Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #18: Just Food]

Log Date: 1/26/12764

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka, Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Conference Room

11:17am SGT

“What do you mean, they’re not available?” I shout at the screen in the conference room.

“Precisely that.” the Administrator’s secretary replies tersely. The screen currently shows him seated at his desk, looking vaguely disgruntled. “Perhaps it has escaped your attention, but we have been a little busy here at the CURSE HQ recently.”

“It’s been over a week since the attack on the HQ!” I snap at him, going back to pacing back and forth. “There has been more than enough time for them to deal with the fallout. Get the Administrator on the line, now!”

“Unfortunately I cannot simply wave a wand and clear the Administrator’s schedule.” the secretary replies with barely-restrained brittleness. “It has only been a few days since the perpetrator was apprehended, and the Administrator is very busy right now, reviewing HQ security, communicating with her counterparts in other security organizations, and making the rounds with the families of the victims.”

“One of your contractors has been kidnapped, and CURSE has done nothing about it!” I explode at him. “We told you about this five days ago, and we have heard nothing! No word, no reply, no acknowledgement, nothing!”

“Over two dozen personnel on the HQ are dead!” the secretary snaps back at me. “Your friend is missing; we understand you are concerned, but he is alive. That is more than can be said for the two dozen coffins we will need to ship back to families across the galaxy. Understand that you are not the center of the galaxy, and while I empathize with the stress you are feeling, your problem is just one of the many that the Administrator is being asked to fix right now.”

I grit my teeth, fuming. I don’t like to admit it, but he’s got a point. “Fine. What about the Deputy Administrator? He can’t be too busy, right?”

“The Deputy Administrator is currently busy arranging a meeting with the Maskling senator to demand an explanation and accountability for the attack. Needless to say, he has his hands full managing the political dimension of CURSE’s response to the attack.” the secretary replies, ratcheting his tone down a notch, but still sounding terse. “If you would like, I will put together a note for the Administrator to reach out when she has a free moment. It may be some time before she can speak to you, however — we are in troubled times with the return of the Challengers, and there is much riding on the Administrator’s shoulders.”

I fight the instinct to grind my teeth. “Is there no one else we can talk to? CURSE has to have someone available. There has to be someone there that’s not busy dealing with the attack. I mean, hell — I’ll even take SCION at this point if that’s what it comes down to. But we need someone to do something about this!”

“The intelligence department has already been made aware of the development, and they will be working on a response as time permits.” the secretary answers. “As I’m not a security analyst, I don’t know what they’re doing. But I do know they’re aware of it, and will be working on it when they can devote resources to it. Unfortunately, your crisis is not the only one in the galaxy right now. Far from it. That doesn’t mean CURSE doesn’t care; it just means that we will get to it when some of the more pressing crises have been dealt with.” With that, he unfolds his hands. “Now, unless there is anything further, there are tasks which require my attention. The Administrator will reach out to you at her next convenience.”

With that, he ends the call, and the screen goes dark. I stand there, staring at it in the ensuing silence, then ball my hands into fists. The helplessness and the anger I feel are overwhelming, and start to spill out as I turn and kick one of of the chairs in the conference room. Letting out a shout, I grab another one and throw it against the wall, lacking a better way to vent my anger.

“Ms. Arrignis.” Dandy says softly, watching from the chair she’s seated in. “Calm down. Throwing chairs won’t fix things.”

“Well I might as well, because nobody else is fixing things!” I snap back at her, starting to pace again. “Jazel’s missing, CURSE is sitting on their hands and giving us excuses, even if we wanted to go after Jazel ourselves, we have no idea where to start and no way to track him. Hell, not even Kaya can sense him, even with the marks she’s left on him; she even admitted as much! What the hell am I supposed to do, Dandy?”

“We can talk with the others and figure out what to do.” she answers. “Milor is not just a deputy; he has connections, even if he tries to hide them. I am sure he wouldn’t mind pulling a few strings to help find Jazel.”

“And then what?” I demand. “Have you seen us? We’re not equipped to go up against Grimes and his elves! We’ve got a redneck; the galaxy's worst necromancer; a soul-munching fox that doesn’t take orders from any of us; plus you and me. That’s not a well-oiled strike team, that’s a disaster in five parts! And the people that should actually being doing something about this are too busy picking fights with the Masklings to give us the help we need!”

“We can find a way.” Dandy says, standing up and moving over to pick up the chairs I’d thrown over. “It will not be easy, but we have resources at our disposal. We can assess them and formulate a plan of action.”

“How long is that going to take, Dandy?” I demand, motioning to the blank screen. “It’s already been five days. Grimes has had Jazel for five days already, and it’s gonna take, like, weeks more to even figure out where they went and get after them, and, and, and—”

I start stuttering as my eyes tear up. The moment I start tripping over my words, Dandy leans forward, hesitates, then leans in again and puts her arms around me. I don’t resist, slumping a little and leaning into her as I try to take deep breaths and calm myself down, wrapping my arms around her. All this anger, all this helplessness, all the anger that comes from the helplessness — it’s been a while since I’ve felt like this, and I’ve never felt it this strongly before. I don’t like it, and I don’t like feeling this way.

“I just… we’re running out of time.” I rasp, trying to keep my voice from wavering as I wipe my eyes. “The longer Grimes has Jazel… I just feel like if we don’t get him back quick enough, he might not be alive when we find him, and nobody will help us, and I’m just so angry…”

“We will find a way, Lysanne.” Dandy repeats softly, patting my back. “We are not without options. Perhaps our way will not be as efficient as CURSE’s would be, but we will find a way.”

I don’t say anything to that. Don’t really have anything to say to it, except wishing desperately for it to be true. I didn’t have any answers right now, and that was the worst part of all of this: having a problem, and no clear way to solve it. And the people that were supposed to be helping us solve it were too busy with problems of their own.

All I can do is bury my face in Dandy’s neck and hug her tighter, wishing I could just stay here and hide from my problems in her arms.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Common Room

4:52pm SGT

“So you’ll want to sit down for this.” Milor says from behind the counter at the back of the common room. As Dandy and I approach the counter, he slides a glass of Venusian whiskey with a couple stones in it towards us. “I know shit’s been tight ever since Grimes made off with Jazel. I’ve been doin’ some… poking around over the last few days, and I think I’ve got a lead, but you’re not gonna like where it goes.”

I pull myself onto one of the stools, Dandy sitting beside me as I take the glass and sip from it. “If we can get Jazel back, we’ll do what we have to. Might as well start chasing our own leads, since CURSE ain’t doing shit about it right now.”

Milor smirks a little. “I like that. Nothing warms my heart like someone seein’ CURSE for what they really are.” Turning, he pulls another whiskey glass out of the glass cabinet on the back wall. “You two will remember after the, ah, kidnapping, I decided to cool my heels with Carrots before heading back to the Drift.”

“Yeah.” I say flatly. “We remember.”

“Hey, don’t judge until you hear it all.” Milor says, another couple stones clattering in the glass and before he starts to pour for himself. “Now, I know it didn’t look great, but there was a point to taking her out for drinks. It was a… conciliatory thing.” he says, gesturing vaguely with the bottle.

“Is this story going somewhere, Deputy?” Dandy asks, polite but unamused.

“It is. Lemme finish the story. These things, you have to get the full picture to really understand how we got to where we’re gonna go.” Milor says, before motioning to the untouched glass. “Anything for you, by the by?”

“I’ll pass, thank you.” she declines.

“Your loss. It’s good stuff.” he says, setting the bottle aside. “So, as I was saying, it was a conciliatory thing. I wanted to get on the level with her, clear the air, let her know we were sorry about the casualties on her team. She took it well, we got to talkin’ about a few other things, all told it was a good night, and I managed to get her number at the end of it. Well, over the past few days I’ve been texting her.”

“I’ll admit that I don’t quite understand how your dating life factors into our current situation, Deputy.” Dandy says, her patience clearly waning.

“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa.” Milor says, sipping from his glass. “Slow down, boss. I never said I was sending her flirty texts. I’ll spare you the details, but I managed to convince Tash to pull a few strings and do some digging on Mayor Grimes. Now, the Vaunted weren’t able to nail down his current whereabouts, but they were able to dig up his participation in certain black markets that have notably arcane dimensions.”

I pause with the glass at my lips. “Wait…”

“That’s right.” Milor smirks. “He’s an occasional customer of the Gang of Four Ravens.”

I set my glass back down, biting my lip. “So that’s the part that we weren’t gonna like.”

“Yup.” Milor says, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “The Vaunted and CURSE don’t know where Grimes is, but the Gang might if we go talk to them. Normally we’d have to spend weeks figuring out a way to get an audience with someone in the Gang, but we happen to have someone onboard that might have the inside track on where one of the Ravens might be roosting.”

“Damn.” I say, thinking about that. “Ozzy might actually be useful for something.”

Milor points at me. “Amen and pass the barbecue chips. It’s just a matter of prying it out of him. I tell you, I ain’t ever seen someone talk as much as he does until you start to talk about something he doesn’t want to talk about it. The moment you hit a subject he’s sensitive about,” Milor snaps his fingers. “he clams up tighter than a nun at a strip club.”

“A rather… flavorful, yet apt, way of describing Mr. Ozzy’s recalcitrance.” Dandy says with furrowed brows. “How, then, do we extract this information from him?”

Milor smiles and gives the whiskey bottle a flick that has it ringing faintly. “The time-tested answer to the ageless riddle of how you get a nun to loosen up at a strip club.”

“That riddle does not exist in the cultural zeitgeist.” I say flatly. “That’s like. Not a thing. At all. For anyone. Anywhere.”

“Well, it is now.” Milor says, undeterred. “So once we booze it out of Ozzy, the hard part comes next. We’re gonna hafta roll up on their roost and smooth-talk our way into getting an audience with someone that’s got enough clout to tell us where Grimes’ base of operations is. And then, y’know, we hafta actually go raid it. But I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. One step at a time — we should start with boozin’ the location of the roost out of our resident ex-necromancer.”

“While there are obviously finer details that need to be filled in, I must admit, Deputy… your recommended course of action is surprisingly well thought-out.” Dandy remarks. “It has flaws, yet it is still well within the realm of plausibility.”

“Thank ya. I aim to impress.” Milor drawls, taking a moment to bask in the compliment.

“Boozing Ozzy is gonna take too long.” I say, tapping my glass on the counter. “Every moment counts. We can’t sit around waiting for him to loosen up and spill.”

“Well, ‘less you got a better way of wringin’ it out of him, it’s all we’ve got.” Milor shrugs.

“I think I do.” I say, tossing back the rest of the whiskey, and setting the glass back on the counter as I stand up. “There’s one other person that wants Jazel back as much as I do, and I think she can make a fairly convincing argument.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Lab 2

5:23pm SGT

“And this will help find my witchling?” Kayenta demands as she marches down the hall on the way to the lab we typically have Ozzy working in.

I resist the urge to swat her tails. It drives me up the wall when she talks about Jazel like she owns him. “Yes. It’s the first step to finding him.”

“If this does not work—” she starts to growl.

“Yes, I know, you’re going to eat our souls, you’ve only threatened us with that every time we’ve seen you for the last five days.” I say, rolling my eyes. “I get it. You’re worried that you won’t have something to munch on. Trust me, we’re worried about it too. We don’t want to end up on your buffet either; Jazel’s the only one that’s got enough soul to suffer through the shit you put him through. That’s why we’re trying to find him, and this is the first step.”

Kayenta tosses her head, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Fine. The necromancer knows where to find this bird?”

“He’s not actually a raven, he’s just called a Raven. It’s a title, like a mob boss or something.” I say, waving a hand. “Problem is that Ozzy gets dodgy when we ask him to spill the beans on his former employers. Snitches end up in ditches and all that.”

“What’s a snitch?”

“It’s… okay, nevermind that.” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “The point is that Ozzy should know where Medukat’s roost is. We need him to tell us where it is, so we can go ask Medukat or one of his mooks where Grimes is keeping Jazel. Got it?”

“Understood.” Kayenta says as we reach the door of the lab, stepping in as it spirals open. Ozzy, who’s humming to himself as he performs a dissection, doesn’t hear us coming until we’re halfway across the lab.

“Oh, hullo there ladies!” he says, turning around when he sees us and starting to pull his gloves off. “You know, I was just thinking about the whole situation with Jazel and this sorcerer guy, and I was wondering: have we filed a missing persons report with the Vaunted yet? Now granted, I know the Vaunted were there when he was kidnapped, but it’s still important to cover all your basHRK—”

Ozzy wheezes as Kayenta seizes him by the throat, lifts him with inhuman ease, then turns and slams him on an adjacent worktable hard enough to cause the equipment on it to clatter. “Where is Medukat’s roost?” she demands.

“Oh gods, my back!” Ozzy gasps, squirming on the table. “I knew I should’ve done my yoga this morning.”

“Focus, Ozzy.” I say flatly. “Kaya asked you a question.”

“Where is your master?” Kayenta growls down at him.

“Oh, I mean, well, I wouldn’t really call him a master, that’s kind of an antiquated term.” Ozzy coughs. “More along the lines of, like, a former employer? Although I never got a severance package. I knew I should’ve gotten something in writing when we first did our little deal—”

“Stop babbling!” Kayenta snaps down at him. “I asked you where he is! Answer the question!”

“I mean, if, if, if, if we’re being honest, like, how would I know?” Ozzy says, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s not like I’m a psion, right? He’s one of the four Ravens, he goes where he wants! How am I supposed to know where he is?”

Kayenta lifts Ozzy back up, turning in place and swinging Ozzy around to slam him onto the worktable on the other side. I have to scramble backwards to avoid getting hit by his legs as she swings him around. “Where is his roost?” she demands.

“Oh gods.” Ozzy groans. “I think I felt my back pop. I’m gonna need to see a chiropractor next time we go planetside—”

“You’re gonna need a lot more than a chiropractor if you don’t answer her question, Ozzy.” I say. “So answer the damn question and stop dodging it.”

“Look, I, I, I don’t know!” Ozzy protests, throwing up his hands. “He had a lot of places, okay? Dude as rich as he was, he had a lot of places! There was a mansion in Chaitokoma, I think he had a penthouse on Sybione, he might’ve even had an asteroid in Moros—”

“Pick the one we’re mostly to find him at this time of year, then.” I order.

“L-look, you really don’t want to do this, like, this dude is not a guy that you mess with.” Ozzy wheedles. “Like, I know that you think this is a good idea, but you really should wait for the authorities to get on it—”

“I spoke to CURSE this morning. Jazel is on the backburner because there was recently a terrorist attack on the CURSE HQ.” I cut him off. “They’re not sparing any help for us, so it’s on us to do something. Tell us where Medukat is, Ozzy.”

“Now.” Kayenta growls, leaning more weight onto his neck.

“Look, I know you think you can just talk to him and walk away, but you guys are Preservers, he will kill you—” Ozzy splutters.

“I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT TELL US WHERE HE IS!” Kayenta roars. Golden light blazes along her silver tails, filling the room with a solar glow; I can feel the heat coming off them from here.

“Okay okay okay! Halomorian! There’s this place in the Halomorian System, on Halomor!” Ozzy squeaks, putting his hands up to shield himself from Kayenta. “It’s a bar, like, thing, sort of! Down in the Ravines! It’s called Rock Bottoms! Bar on the first floor, office on the second floor!”

“Halomorian.” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. “That’s a pirate system.”

“I mean, technically there’s also a mining operation there, so there are legitimate businesses there—” Ozzy starts.

“We are going to this Halomorian place, then?” Kayenta asks, still holding onto Ozzy’s throat as she looks at me.

“Yes, you can let him go now.” I say, tucking a fist under my chin as I think. “That’s a dangerous system. All the ships there are going to be armed to the teeth, and most of them are equipped for raids. If we take the Drift there, it’s going to be like a deer wandering into a den of wolves.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Ozzy says as Kayenta lets go of him. “It’s too dangerous. You guys should let the authorities handle this. They’re actually equipped for it!”

“If we let the authorities handle it, Jazel will be dead by the time they get around to it.” I reply. “We need to find a way to get into the Halomorian System without being noticed.”

“When are we leaving?” Kayenta asks as her tails lose their glow.

“Soon. I have to talk with Milor and Dandy first. We need to come up with a plan.” I reply, turning and starting back towards the door of the lab.

“I do not like all this waiting.” she mutters, turning and following me.

“Hey, wait!” Ozzy calls. “You’re not going to tell Medukat I told you where to find him, right? You can’t let him know I was the one that tipped you guys off!”

“He already knows you’re traveling with us, Ozzy.” I call over my shoulder. “He’ll figure it out whether or not we tell him.”

“Oh.” Ozzy says quietly. “Well, if he already knows, let him know I’m sorry about the whole leaving-on-short-notice thing! It’s hard to give two weeks’ notice when it might get you killed.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along.” I say just before the door closes behind us. Back out in the hall, I stuff my hands in my pockets, frowning to myself as I start heading back to the common room.

“How long will your planning take?”

I look up to see that Kayenta is still following me, staring at me with those intense orange eyes. “It’s going to take us a while. The place we’ll need to go to is very dangerous. We will need to plan for that.”

“Yes, but how long with that take?” she insists. “How many hours?”

“I don’t know, Kaya.” I say. “I just got this information. We still need to figure out what to do with it. We will get Jazel back, but we can’t just plow in there headfirst and get ourselves killed.” I stop and study her posture, the forward tilt of her silver ears. “When was the last time you fed on Jazel?”

Her ears fold back as she narrows her eyes at me. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know how long it is before you’ll need to feed again.” I reply.

“I am fine for now.” she says, staring at me. “Why did you stop walking? You need to go plan with the others.”

I furrow my brow. “If you don’t need to feed, why are you trying to rush me?”

“Because we need to go get Jazel!” she says impatiently. “Why are we just standing here? We should be finding the others!”

I stare at her. “You’re… concerned about Jazel.”

“Of course I’m concerned about him! I have no one else to feed on!” she snaps at me, reaching up and starting to push me down the hall. “Let us go. You are wasting time.”

I start walking again, with Kayenta pushing me along. “But if you didn’t have to feed on him… would you still try to rescue him?”

“Your questions are pointless and they bore me.” she mutters. “Walk faster. We are losing time.”

I keep walking, refraining from asking more questions. Still, I can’t help but wonder about the combination of evasion and pressure from Kayenta. I don’t want to read too deep into something that might not be there, but…

Maybe he’s more than just food to her.

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Location: Unknown

10:08pm SGT

I’m lying on the bed when the door opens.

The first people in are a pair of elves, one of them with the handprint burned on his face from the fight on Charisto. The other one is hauling a chair, which he sets on the padded floor; then both of them stand aside as Grimes walks in, minus his greatcoat and carrying a book under his arm. Sizing up the room, he repositions the chair, then snaps his fingers, a flare of crimson light kindling to life at the tip of his fingers. He points it to the floor, and a red line starts to follow, drawing itself along the padding, riding up the wall, across the ceiling, then back down the other way to meet where it first started. Once it connects, a thin, translucent film appears, bisecting the room and dividing my portion from the one that has Grimes and his elves in it.

“That should be sufficient.” he says to his elves. “You may go now.”

They nod, turning and exiting the room, closing the door behind them. In the ensuing silence, Grimes clasps both hands around the book he’s holding and gives me an ingratiating smile. “So, Mr. Jaskolka, I hope I have not interrupted your evening.”

I glare at him, then around the padded room, which very much lacks windows or anything which would allow anyone to tell what time it is.

“Let’s begin.” he says, coming around the chair and sitting down in it. “I apologize for not being able to formally welcome you until just now. I’ve been rather busy; I won’t bore you with the details, but running an enterprise requires a certain amount of bandwidth which sometimes prevents us from dedicating our attention to certain projects. But with matters now taken care of, I believe I can now devote some more time to being a proper host.”

“Charming.” I mutter, returning to staring at the ceiling.

“Oh good, you’re more verbose than some of your predecessors have been.” Grimes remarks, folding one leg over the other. “Though we know each other, I believe introductions are still in order, as this will be the first time we are not meeting under pretense. My name is Anselm Grimes; I am a… small business owner, let’s put it that way, working in a very niche but very lucrative market. And you are?”

My response is to raise my right hand and give him the middle finger.

“Very well then, if I must, I’ll introduce you to yourself.” he says, placing the book in his lap. “You are Jazel Jaskolka, a Preserver contracted by CURSE to work onboard the Dandelion Drift as part of their token gesture at supporting the sciences and shoring up the political support they receive from the Preserver Academy. You are almost thirty years old, and most importantly, you are a native Aurescuran. Did I miss anything?”

“What’s so special about being an Aurescuran?” I demand without taking my eyes off the ceiling.

“We’ll get to that eventually.” Grimes says, lacing his fingers over his knee. “How have you been? Is everything comfortable? Food good, bathroom breaks frequent enough?”

“You kidnapped me and you’re holding me in a padded cell.” I say, motioning to the room we’re in. Aside from the bed, there’s really not much else in here. The bedframe is squishy yet firm; even the walls and ceiling are padded. Everything’s been carefully designed to prevent harm. “How do you think I’ve been?”

“It’ll grow on you, I’m sure. There’s something comforting about a padded cell.” Grimes says, looking around. “It’s a very safe place. We did have to scramble to get this up on short notice, you know. Cost me a fortune, as renovations go. Prior to this we were using regular cells, but you are an unusual case.”

“How very comforting.” I say drily.

“Indeed. I’d be quite disappointed if my investment expired prematurely.” he says, straightening a little in his chair. “Well, now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, I suppose it’s time we get down to business. And for me, the business I’m in is the business of souls, Mr. Jaskolka. But I figured you’d gathered that by now.”

“You didn’t bring your cane with you.” I point out.

“Very astute. That’s correct, I did not, because I will not be using it on you. It’s much too inefficient, considering the volume of soul you possess.” Grimes explains. “No, for you we have something special. Something we were actually reserving for your morphox friend.”

That finally gets me to look at him. “What?”

“Ah, there we go.” he says when I turn my head toward him. “Something that gets your attention, I’ll keep that in mind. But yes, Mr. Jaskolka, we have something more special reserved for you. The market for souls, it’s a very difficult one; souls are, as you can imagine, a very precious resource, and one that is hard to harvest and harness. The benefits and applications, though, are without parallel, especially where it comes to longevity. I myself am two and a half centuries old, far past the hundred and thirty years that is the human average. Impressive, is it not?”

I glare at him. “Souls aren’t a health food.”

“Well, I’d disagree with that.” he says, waving a hand. “I sip on a bit of soul fairly regularly and it’s done wonders for my health over the last couple of centuries. And you cannot tell me that is a new concept, or that it is unnatural. As your morphox friend has demonstrated, it is in fact quite natural for some species.”

“For morphoxes. Humans aren’t designed for or meant to do that.” I point out.

“Not designed for it, no.” Grimes agrees. “Morphoxes can do it with a kiss, it’s quite natural to them. While humans and other species, well. We have to design special tools for that function, like my cane, as you earlier pointed out. But even if we as humans are not designed for it, it does not mean we cannot benefit from it just the same as morphoxes can. I myself am a case study in that, as are my employees.”

For a moment I consider arguing with him, but just by the way he’s talking, it seems clear that he’s very sure of himself. He’s not here to have his mind changed; he’s here to push his point of view on someone else, that someone being me. Rather than humor him, I just go back to looking at the ceiling.

“However, longevity aside, there are other uses for souls.” Grimes continues, leaning back in his chair. “Even in the smallest of doses, they make exceptional catalysts and reagents for arcane projects. Very potent, very powerful, very rare, and as a result of those first three, very illegal and very expensive. My business, as it were, is one of the very, very few in the galaxy that is willing to undertake the harvesting and processing required to turn a soul into a usable product for customers that have a need for that product. Now, obviously the entire business model is more complex than that, but this is the way I pitch it to those that need a layman’s understanding of how my enterprise works.”

“By harvesting you mean kidnapping.” I infer at this point.

Grimes shrugs. “Water and rain, it’s all the same. We like to encourage a positive mindset here. ‘Kidnapping’ is a very negative word; ‘harvesting’ is much better. It has a productive, industrious feel to it, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think you’re a psychopath.”

“Quite possibly. But if so, I am one that is very financially secure. And one that is looking to potentially expand his operations.” Grimes says, tapping his fingers against the cover of his book. “You see, Mr. Jaskolka, you represent a potential shift in paradigm for my entire business.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Mr. Jaskolka, that you have the potential to change everything.” Grimes says with mild incredulity, as if he still hadn’t come to terms with it himself. “Let me explain some of the particulars of the industry to you. Souls are a difficult fruit to harvest in that a single body will usually only hold a single soul. Once it’s been harvested, the body dies. Very difficult crop, takes decades to grow, and if you want to make sure it’s a healthy soul, it needs to be free-range. You can’t keep a person in a cage their entire lives and expect them to have a healthy, well-rounded soul.

“However, there are certain exceptions. Wereckanan, who live much, much longer than any other species, have very potent souls due to the length of their lives. However, they’re also a devil to find and capture, and it takes literal centuries for that fruit to mature. Besides them, though, there are morphoxes, who have a natural ability to extract soul from their victims. Now, most of them don’t do that nowadays; it’s a cultural taboo except in a few specific circumstances, but there are some exceptions, such as your morphox girlfriend on Vissengard. I was in the midst of a years-long attempt to flush out and capture her, and she would’ve been quite a bounty! Four centuries of unrestricted soul consumption — I thought I had hit the jackpot.” He leans forward at this point. “Until I met you.”

Though I can tell where this is going, I don’t like where it’s going. I sit up on the bed, saying nothing but staring at him and the gauzy crimson film that he’s behind. Trying to measure how hard it would be to breach it.

“Now, the fact that you managed to survive getting hit with Viscori weapons twice in quick succession, and barely seemed shifted by what they had extracted from you, is what first alerted me to the fact that you were different.” Grimes says, looking down now at the book in his lap. “So after that miserably failed attempt to whisk you away on Pallus, I decided to do some research after speaking to a few of my connections and finding out what you were. And I must say…” He holds up the book at this point. “…the early history of Aurescura is just wild, as the modern youths would put it.”

Opening the book, he starts leafing through the pages. “Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. It has all the hallmarks of a classic mythology, and yet it’s subversive. Where other cultures and religions have a bible, what Aurescurans have is a legend about how they defied their goddess. Your religion does not revolve around worship or idolization of your creator — it revolves around your grievance and defiance against her, and your resistance when she tried to destroy what she created.”

Stopping on one page, Grimes holds up a finger. “There was something that caught my attention in this hymn recorded here — it was this that really got my attention, let me read it for you. A thousand times ten thousand times / Were we sentenced for our crimes / And ev’ry time our fate delayed / Our divine pedigree each time displayed.” He looks back up at me when he’s done. “In your mythos, it is said that a divine beast broke free of its prison every ten thousand years to destroy the people of Aurescura, and every time they had to seal it away for another ten thousand years. And it is said here that this cycle repeated a thousand times. Do you know how long that is, Mr. Jaskolka?”

“I was never very good at math.” I mutter, sitting now on the edge of my bed.

“That’s ten million years.” Grimes says. “And what’s more, your people were bound by the curse of Aurescura. She denied them both heaven and hell for their trespass against her, so that there would never be an afterlife for them — when they died, they would be reborn into another life, reincarnated in a maddening, corrupt cycle where the weight of past lives slowly but surely began to bleed into present lives.” He chuckles to himself. “I must admit, your goddess was one twisted bitch. But that’s tangential to what all this means when taken together: an Aurescuran soul, reborn from the old days, should have ten million years’ worth of reincarnations within it. An old soul that has lived over a hundred thousand unique lives, perhaps more, depending on how long each of those lives was.”

“You think that just because you picked up one of our mythology books and went on a binge read, you know all about Aurescurans?” I say, pacing now in front of the thin film separating our sections of the room. “If you’d actually bothered to talk to an actual Aurescuran, you’d know that half of us don’t believe in our origin myths. And those of us that believe the old stories also believe they were seriously embellished over the last ten thousand years.”

“Then there’s only one way to find out, I suppose.” Grimes says, closing the book. “And trust me, we will soon find out. If your soul contains even half of what I suspect it does, that would represent a windfall that would normally take centuries to harvest. And you, obviously, are not the only Aurescuran wandering the galaxy. If there are others like you, Aurescurans reborn from the old days, then it changes my entire business model. This would no longer be considered a ‘small business’.”

“You will be caught and stopped.” I state, raising my right hand and touching the crimson film, then pulling my hand back when lancing pain goes through my finger. There’s no blood, but it’s now filled with a dull ache. “Kayenta hungers. She relies on me to keep her alive and keep her from preying on others. You have removed her food source, and that will make her… upset.”

Grimes heaves out a patient sigh. “We’ve been over this. I’ve been running this business for quite some time now; I know what is needed to cover my tracks. The premises here are heavily warded; she will not be able to track you. And as I already told you, CURSE is the one that disclosed the Drift’s location to me. There is no help coming, Mr. Jaskolka. Your friends cannot find you, and CURSE will not help them find you. The sooner you resign yourself to your fate, the more comfortable you will be.”

“So you just want me to give up.” I say, lifting my left hand now. It’s encased in a metal glove, locked at the wrist, to prevent me from being able to access my grimoire. I use it to touch the film partitioning the room; it bends and stretches against the touch of my forefinger, but soon enough, I can feel a needle of pain starting to go through that finger as well. “You want me to just get cozy and accept that I’m going to die.”

“Personally speaking, I think that would be in everyone’s best interests.” Grimes says mildly. “Makes things easier all around. A resistant prisoner puts everyone in a bad mood and makes things so much harder than they have to be.”

“I’m going to laugh when Kaya shows up on your front door.” I say, turning and starting to wander back to my bed. “I’m going to laugh when she kills your elves and destroys what you’ve built here. And after she’s broken me out, I’m going to do to you what you’ve done to me and other people. I’m going to take your cane and shove that sword right through your chest so you know what it feels like to have your soul ripped out.”

“Rather aggressive for a Preserver.” Grimes remarks. “None of the pacifism your institution is famous for, is there?”

“We’re pacifist when it comes to animals that don’t know any better.” I say, laying back down on my bed. “The civilized ones, like you, are much more dangerous, and often need to be euthanized before they do too much damage to the rest of the ecosystem.”

“Ah, so you’re the other end of the spectrum. The ecomilitant.” Grimes says, sounding thoroughly enlightened. “Fascinating, but ultimately deluded. And there are some gaps in your logic as well — clearly you have no compunctions about the morphox feeding on you, yet you would deny me the privilege of extracting the same resource from you, if it was within your power.”

“She does it to survive. You do it to make profit.” I say as I get comfortable. “That’s what makes her different from you.”

“Say, then, that I wasn’t making profit.” Grimes posits. “I somehow doubt even then that you would give up your soul willingly.”

“Not to you.”

Grimes smirks. “So you do it seeking to ingratiate yourself with her. An understandable motive, coming from a young man, but trust me when I tell you that a woman, even one such as her, is not worth that kind of sacrifice. I imagine she regards you much the same as I do: a resource to be exploited for as long as possible.”

I don’t respond right away, analyzing his words. “Are you trying to undermine my faith in her?” I ask. “If this is your attempt to sabotage my belief that she will come for me, I recommend that you find another approach.”

“I don’t believe that she will come for you, boy.” Grimes explains. “But I’m willing to entertain the possibility that she might. And if she does, I want you to know the reason will not be out of any sense of sentiment she feels towards you. You yourself admitted as much earlier — I have removed her food source. If she does come for you, it will not be because she cares for you — it will be because she is desperate, and hungry, and you are a means to her ends.”

Again, I don’t respond right away. I want to find a counterpoint, but he’s reasoned me into a corner, and I don’t have a good comeback for that, especially since he’s using my own words against me. “The reason for her coming back doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she does come, and she ruins your day while she’s at it.”

“Well then, I am afraid you shall be sorely disappointed on that count.” Grimes says, shaking his head. “In time, you will eventually realize nobody is coming for you. I look forward to the day of your epiphany. It will be a good day for everyone involved.”

“And I look forward to seeing the look on your face when she does shows up.” I reply, lacing my fingers over my midsection again as I go back to staring at the ceiling. “It’ll be a good day. Mostly for me.”

“We’ll see if that stubbornness is still in place a week from now.” Grimes says, standing up. “Much as I’d like to stay and chat, I do have a business to run. Behave, make things easy for us, and I’ll see to it that your stay is as comfortable as possible, for what time remains of your life. You might very well be the most valuable individual in this building right now, and we would like to treat you like it if you’ll make it feasible for us to do so.”

“If we’re doing preferential treatment, I’d like steak for dinner tomorrow.” I say as he opens the door to leave.

Grimes smiles as he picks up the chair. “You think you’re clever, Mr. Jaskolka, but we’re not going to give you a steak knife. If you behave, you can have the steak — but it’ll be pre-cut for you.”

“Worth a try.” I mutter.

“For that alone, I think we’ll have you on oatmeal and apples tomorrow.” Grimes says, stepping out of the room. “Your meal fare will improve when your behavior does. Have a good night, Mr. Jaskolka.”

The lights in the room dim as he shuts the door, and as they fade to almost nothing, I turn on my side, curling up. I didn’t want to admit it, but Grimes’ assessment of Kayenta’s motives had hit a nerve. Something that had been gnawing at me even before this, an insecurity that was only growing worse with time.

That I was nothing more, and never would be anything more, than just food to her.

Intercepted Transmission

Undisclosed caller to Anselm Grimes

11:36pm SGT

Grimes: Hullo?

???: Where is our morphox, Grimes?

G: Vecora. You sound a little… out of sorts.

Vecora: We know you got what you were looking for, Grimes. Two of our disciples saw you return to your business with heavy security and a prisoner.

G: Lovely, so you’ve been spying on me.

V: We have been monitoring your activities to see whether they have borne fruit, and to ensure you hold up your end of the deal. Which you have not.

G: Yes, the ambush didn’t go quite the way I was expecting. They didn’t bring the morphox — the boy kept her on the ship to protect her. Really nothing I could do about that; boarding a Preserver ship is a much different proposition than ambushing them in the sewers.

V: That is not our problem. We had a deal: we provide you with the location of the renegade Challengers to pass along to CURSE, they provide you with the location of the Preservers, and you in turn provide us with the morphox once you caught her and the boy. The only person that has not held up their end of the bargain is you, Grimes.

G: Again, things didn’t go the way I planned. That’s not to say that I don’t respect the deal that was in place. In lieu of the morphox, I’ll give you something else, something equivalent. Once I start extracting soul from my new specimen, I’ll ensure that you have enough to create a ninetailed morphox of your own — why, as an apology, I’ll even give you twice that, as insurance.

V: That was not what was agreed, Grimes.

G: Perhaps not, but life isn’t fair. We don’t always get what we deserve or what we planned for. I damn near drowned just trying to secure the witch boy; I am not going to take my chances going back for the morphox. This Preserver group isn’t normal; they’re contracted out by CURSE. They’ve got their own bodyguard with a silly hat and they pack way more arcane power than any other Preservers I’ve seen. You want the morphox, you’ll have to go get her yourself. In lieu of her, I’ll give you enough soul to make a ninetails twice over. Take it or leave it.

V: …we will take it. But we will remember this failure in future business dealings, Grimes. When will you deliver the product?

G: I’m not sure yet. There are still tests I have to run on the boy, figure out exactly what I’m working with. Honestly it’s a miracle we got back here as soon as we did. As far as the product goes, I’d say a week, maybe two weeks. I will need to take it slow at the start — I cannot have him expiring during the extraction.

V: We will be checking in in a week, then. If you do not have a timeline by then, and if you do not deliver the product by at least two weeks, then we will take this to the Four Ravens. We do not have patience for a game of moving goalposts.

G: You will be first on the waitlist, I promise. Now if you don’t mind, it is rather late, I have had a long day, and there is much work ahead of me. Is there anything else—

-line disconnected-

G: Ah. Charming. I suppose not, then.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Common Room

1/27/12764 1:54am SGT

Standing in front of the liquor cabinet behind the bar in the common room, I stare over the arrayed bottles, trying to figure out what will put me to sleep fastest.

The last week or so had been hard, as far as rest went. The times when I’d slept were mostly only due to exhaustion; constant worrying about Jazel, along with the frustration of CURSE doing nothing to help us, had kept me up and robbed me of my normal amount of sleep. Tonight had been particularly bad; even after my shower, even after getting into my pajamas, I just kept tossing and turning. I couldn’t stop thinking about the future, envisioning scenarios that could play out in Halomorian. What I should bring, what I should say, what I should do, to make things turn out in our favor.

After four hours of this, I’d finally thrown in the towel and come here to fix it the only way I knew how to fix it: drink something strong enough to impair my cognition, thereby eliminating my capacity for complex abstractions like the scenarios that kept running through my head. But now that I was here, I couldn’t even decide on what to drink. I realize, soon enough, that I don’t actually want to drink anything — I just want to stop thinking long enough to get some rest.

“Ms. Arrignis?”

I just about jump out of my skin, twisting around. Dandy is there, standing just inside one of the doors to the common room, watching me. I didn’t even hear the door open or hear her step in. “Dandy! Jeezus! You scared the shit out of me!”

“My apologies. I received a system alert for unusual movement during quiet hours. It is rather late for you to be awake; is something wrong?” Dandy asks, coming towards the counter.

“No, I just… can’t sleep.” I sigh, rubbing a palm against my eye, moving up into running my fingers through my hair. “I can’t stop thinking… about everything. About Jazel, about Halomorian, about Grimes…”

Dandy notices the liquor cabinet open as she arrives beside me. “Alcohol is not the answer.” she says, reaching up to close the cabinet door. “You should try breathing and meditation exercises instead. It is healthier.”

“Easy for you to say.” I grumble. “You’re a Cyber; if you don’t want something to bother you, you just deprioritize it. Human brains aren’t as easy to control.”

“Have you taken a shower?” she suggests. “I understand that it is supposed to help clear the mind.”

“Already did that, yeah.” I say, making my way back around the counter. “I don’t usually take sleep aids, but I’m considering it now. I just want to stop worrying for a while.”

“Would you like some company? I understand that it helps distract the mind sometimes.” Dandy offers.

“I mean. I’m willing to try anything at this point.” I say, wandering aimlessly through the common room. Restless.

“Let’s sit on the couch, then, and watch the biosphere.” Dandy says, following me out from behind the counter. “It may calm you enough to go to sleep.”

“Alright.” Wandering back over to the couch, I sit down, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the common room. Beyond them, I can see the biosphere slowly rotating in its housing; like the rest of the ship, most of the biosphere’s levels are dark or dim, well into their night cycle. After a moment, Dandy sits on the cushion beside me. “I hope CURSE isn’t expecting us to do any assignments anytime soon. If they get on us about falling behind on our assignment schedule, I’m going to snap.”

“I doubt they will. It would be audacious of them to expect us to continue carrying on operations while one of our Preservers is missing.” Dandy replies, primly resting her hands in her lap.

After a moment more of staring in silence, I shake my head. “I wonder sometimes if any of this would’ve happened if we’d just left things alone when we were supposed to on Vissengard. We would’ve left, and there would’ve been no morphox stowing away on our ship, no need to keep feeding her souls, no sorcerer chasing us… things would’ve been normal. We would’ve gone onto the next assignment and just kept doing our jobs.”

“That is true.” Dandy agrees. “But Jazel would not have been happy about leaving behind Kayenta on Vissengard.”

“He would’ve gotten over it.” I mutter. “Things would’ve gone back to the way they were before. We would’ve just kept doing our jobs.”

“Still true.” Dandy concedes. “But what would’ve happened to Kayenta if we hadn’t stayed?”

I open my mouth, then close it with a sigh. “Who knows. She probably could’ve taken care of herself? She’s powerful, and there were plenty of people to feed on back on Vissengard.”

“True. But such feedings would kill most people.” Dandy points out. “While I am reluctant to give his actions approval, Jazel has, by some measure, prevented the loss of life. His motives may be more self-oriented, but his willingness to sustain Kayenta has protected others. It is not just for her benefit that we took her in, but for the benefit of those she would’ve otherwise fed upon. I know it is hard to see it when we are the ones that have to shoulder the burden, but taking care of her has made the galaxy a better place in some sense.”

“Yeah.” I admit reluctantly. After a moment, I turn and lay down on the couch, resting my head in Dandy’s lap as I stare out the window at the biosphere. “I just… I just want what’s best for Jazel. Want him to be happy. I’m not sure Kayenta is the right path for him. I’m not sure she cares about him the way he does for her.”

Dandy doesn’t respond right away. She took her hands out of her lap when I’d laid down; after a moment, I can feel her gently combing strands of hair out of my face and behind my ear. “Who are you to say what the right path for him is?” she asks softly.

I exhale in defeat. “Yeah. You’re right. I suppose it’s not my place to decide what’ll make someone happy.” Falling silent for a while, I simply remain there, watching the biosphere while enjoying the feeling of Dandy combing her fingers through my hair. “We’ve known each other for a quarter century, and yet there are still times when I just don’t understand him. I think there are some things about him I’ll just never understand.”

“There are some things which defy explanation.” Dandy says. “Jazel may be one of them.”

“I suppose that’s really all there is to be said about that.” I agree. After several moments spent in silence, I roll over on my back so I can look up at Dandy. Those digital-blue eyes glow in the shadow of the curtain of her hair; reaching up, I brush the back of my forefinger over her cheek.

She doesn’t shy away, though I can read the hesitation in her eyes. It’s not the hesitation of reluctance, but the hesitation of ignorance, of someone that’s never done something like this before, and isn’t entirely sure of how to respond. Still, she turns her head a little, her cheek pressing against the backs of my fingers.

That’s enough encouragement for me to lower my hand and brace it on the couch on the other side of Dandy’s legs, sitting up so I’m facing her. She’s not the only one that’s hesitant; I’m wondering if I should do this, but it feels right. The quiet, the lateness of the night, the light coming off the biosphere, the shadows that are painted across both of us. I lean forward, and she doesn’t lean away; her luminous blue eyes remain fixed on me, her lips parting slightly.

Even if she hasn’t said anything, that’s as good as a yes to me.

I press my lips to hers, closing my eyes. It’s been a while since I’ve done this; I’d gone on a dating hiatus a couple years back. The roving life of a contracted Preserver hadn’t really lent itself to easy relationships; I always thought I’d get back into it eventually, but I hadn’t thought it would happen like this, trading a midnight kiss with someone that had been there the whole time. And when I pull away, it’s partially because I wonder if I should even be doing this, if it’s even what Dandy wants. I thought I read her correctly, but it’s hard to tell with Dandy; what I thought was a cue might’ve been something else entirely.

But when she leans back in with a kiss of her own, hesitant and yet curious, I know that I’ve read her right. I can’t help but smile at the timid tug of her lips, uncertain and shy; reaching up with my other hand, I slide it around the back of her neck, running my fingers through her hair as I lean into the kiss. Guide it, and show her how it’s done.

I’d come here looking for distraction, a bit of peace, some relief for the compounding stress of recent days.

I didn’t know I’d find it by teaching the ship’s adjutant how to make out after midnight.