Valiant

[Valiant #2: Good Bad Guys]

Log Date: 8/25/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Lucanthiline

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Shinobe Kibe Police Station: Interrogation Room

4:02pm SGT

When the door unlocks and slides open, I take my head off my hand and look up.

“Well, Mr. Acceso, you’ve really done it this time.” Chief Holberg says as the door slides shut and bolts behind him. “It’s not looking good.”

“What are they saying?” I ask as he sits down, setting a data slate on the table as he does so.

“Right now, the phrase being thrown around by the local news stations is ‘potential terrorist incident’.” Holberg says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got reporters clogging the phones, trying to get statements. Evidently they don’t understand what ‘still under investigation’ means.”

“Did anyone get hurt when the ceiling caved?” I ask.

His eyes flick up to me at the question. “Yes. No deaths, but we have two people in the hospital in serious condition, and the rest got off with minor injuries.”

I let out a breath that I’d been holding. “That’s good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s good?”

I look at him. “Well yeah, I’d been expecting that people would get killed when the roof started going. Obviously it’s not great that people got hurt, but at least nobody’s dead.”

“Nobody but the girl that everybody watched you kill and throw off the roof of the airport, that is.”

“Is that what they’re saying?” I say, slowly slouching back in my chair.

“That’s what it looks like in the video, and that hit the galaxynet early this morning.” he says as he turns on the data slate. “You made the morning news, Mr. Acceso. Your name’s already out there. People are already forming opinions based on what they’ve seen.”

“Perfect.” I say, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. “Because that’s just what I wanted, another mob rushing to judgement. It’s not like I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”

“What happened up there, Feroce?” Holberg asks. I open my eyes to see he’s leaning forward on the table. “I watched the video, and it looks bad, but it doesn’t look like you stabbed her, not on purpose, at least.”

For a moment, I think of what I can tell him. Whether to give him the full truth, keep parts of it out, or just lie outright. After a moment, I drop my hand from my face, looking at one of the mirrored walls; I know there are other officers watching, recording.

“She was a Maskling.” I say. “She had a data core that could expose retired Challengers in the resettlement program. I was trying to get it from her before it fell into the wrong hands. When she couldn’t get away from me, she decided to set me up by killing herself and making it look I did it, then got away by masking the first person that got near her body once she fell off the roof.”

Holberg appears to need a moment to digest this information. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Holberg laces his fingers together, looking away and looking thoughtful. “Feroce, I just want to be upfront with you here. There’s several videos of you putting a sword through an unarmed woman and then dropping her off the roof of an airport. There’s footage of you, covered in blood, being cuffed and shoved into a police cruiser. And you were at the airport when the ceiling caved in the lobby. Those images, and that information, are spreading across Shinobe Kibe like wildfire. First impressions are crystallizing hard and fast.”

I look at him. “The only time I kill someone is if I need to stop them from killing someone else, and I have no other options left, Chief. She wasn’t threatening anyone. I had no reason to put that blade through her.”

“For what it’s worth, Feroce, I believe that.” Holberg sighs, picking up his data slate and scrolling through the information on it. “We’ve kept tabs on you since you got here, since that was part of the asylum agreement. Your coworkers and your employers like you and depend on you. You don’t have many friends, but the ones you do have like you. You’ve lived nice and quiet since you’ve got here. I don’t believe you’d kill someone unless you had a good reason to do so. But I’m not the one you need to convince.”

I furrow my brows. “Who do I need to convince?”

“The Vaunted have dispatched a team to come investigate the incident.” Holberg says, setting the tablet down again. “You’re a smart fellow. You know that you’re going to be their primary suspect, as a former Challenger.”

“Shit.” I mutter, pressing the knuckle of my thumb against my forehead. The galactic police were getting involved. This wasn’t good. “Lemme guess, CURSE is sending someone too.”

Holberg shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from or about Citizens United.”

“They’re going to send someone. If they have a chance to bury a former Challenger, they’re going to take it.” I say, dropping my hand back to the table. “I am so royally tired of trying to do the right thing and getting shafted for it, Chief.”

It’s so frank and straightforward that Holberg doesn’t appear to know what to do with that information. “Tell us the truth, then.” he says. “Walk us through what happened that night. The airport has cameras; if you’re truthful, then what we’ll find there will help vindicate you.”

I take a moment to think about that. I didn’t have a problem telling the truth; the problem was that I wasn’t sure how many people would believe it if I did tell them the truth. And I’d learned long ago that telling the truth didn’t always save you, and it didn’t always make you the good guy. But sometimes you told it anyway — not for someone else’s benefit, and not because anyone would believe you, but so that you could say you were honest. So you could live with yourself.

“Alright.” I say, sitting up in my chair. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

The News

“Our top story tonight: anti-Mask sentiment on the rise as protests ripple through the galaxy. Demonstrations were organized by the Sovereign Citizens Of Righteous Nations advocacy group, whose connections to unsanctioned militias have come under scrutiny in the past. On several worlds, armed groups marched through high-population areas, with some vandalizing the Quill Sanctuaries that serve as the heart of most Maskling communities. Clashes were reported in several metropolitan areas where counter-protesters turned out to confront SCORN and its supporters. On some worlds, deaths were reported as the clashes turned violent, and at least one Sanctuary was torched. Protesters and counter-protestors alike have been taken into custody, with most being let off with fines for disturbing the peace. For more on this, we turn now to Dan Splainsworthy, our resident expert on tensions between the Maskling population and other populations. Dan, can you break this down for the members of the audience that may not be familiar with Masklings and their detractors?”

“Of course, Clarence. We first have to start by understanding what Masklings are — they’re a race of sentient masks that require hosts in order to move and act on their own.”

“They’re just inanimate objects until they have a host?”

“More or less. Once a Mask is placed on a host’s face, the Mask melds into the host’s face, and can choose to either retain the form of the host, or reshape the host’s body into one of the forms the Mask has stored within itself. It is said that the Mask absorbs the host’s mind — the host becomes part of the Mask’s identity, and is subsumed.”

“Dan, this sounds like a predatory or parasitic relationship.”

“It sure does, Clarence, and that’s why you see these people showing up to these protests against Masklings. There’s a good chunk of the galactic population that very much views Masks and Masklings as abominations and aberrations. That dislike isn’t restricted to the civilian population either — governments and corporations have an inherent distrust of Masklings because of their ability to absorb what their hosts know and can do.”

“So any knowledge that the host knows becomes something the Maskling knows?”

“It does. Confidential information, classified secrets, intellectual property — if the host knows any of these things, they become things the Maskling also knows. This feature is something that’s allowed Masklings to quickly co-opt new technology, or deliver calculated and devastating blows to organizations or nations they perceive as enemies. Many nations accordingly view them as a national security threat.”

“And you said that they gain the ability to do what their host can do?”

“That as well. Masklings are amalgams, chimaeras that have the ability to incorporate the biological and magical features of their previous hosts into their current form. Typically they have a civilian form, one they use for everyday things and that has all of their favorite traits of their previous hosts; and a second survival form, one that incorporates all the best traits of their previous hosts. It really is quite fascinating — each Maskling is truly unique, because no two Masklings will ever have the same set of hosts.”

“You say fascinating, but some of us would say terrifying, Dan. Let’s hold that thought for now, since we’re coming up on a commercial break. Once we get back, we’ll pick up on where we left off — the question of where Masklings belong in our galactic society, and the fact that some groups clearly think they don’t.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Shinobe Kibe Police Station: Holding Cell 2E

9:22pm SGT

It’s been a while since I saw the inside of a holding cell, and I can’t say that it’s something that I missed.

My cell is basically a box with a bare bed in it; grey walls, and a static screen that snaps, pops, and shocks you whenever you touch it. The only light comes from the screen itself, a dull, grey ambience that’s the same brightness regardless of what time of day it is. Since they took all my stuff, I’m left with nothing to do but lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about what I’m going to do if this situation comes crashing down around me.

When the static screen ripples open, I look to the side, expecting to see an officer.

What I see instead is Luci.

I jerk upright on the bed, swinging my legs to the floor as he steps in and taps a badge to the wall, the screen rippling shut behind him. “What are you doing here?” I hiss quietly. “I thought you’d run off after the encounter at the starport!”

“Well, I was certainly tempted.” he says, brushing his mahogany hair out of his eyes and pulling open his jacket to rifle around inside. “I touched base with the Boss to see what she wanted me to do. She says we need you, so she told me to get you out and get you offworld.”

There’s so much to unpack there. “Who’s we?” I demand.

“The uh… group.” Luci says vaguely, waving a hand as he pulls my ninjato hilts out of his jacket and tosses one of them to me. “Dunno how to really describe it. It’s the Boss, a mercforce, and then whatever Challengers we can find and get on our side. Guess you could call it a project?” He pulls out the other ninjato hilt, and tosses that to me as well.

“I’m not the only one Challenger you’ve been looking for, then?” I ask, reaching up to catch one hilt and hook it back on my belt, then doing the same with the other. “What’s this project that you’re talking about?”

“Oh, you know. The one that mostly wants to make sure that the Challengers don’t get narked by CURSE.” Luci says, pulling out my stunner pistol and sizing it up critically. “You know this thing’s shit? If I’d come earlier in the day, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough to stun all the cops I needed to stun. This place is kinda quiet after sundown.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Yeah, did you think that they would just let me saunter in here and let you out?” Luci says, his ears laying back at my exclamation. “Seriously though, you owe me dinner. When I told you that I was just a messenger last night, I meant it. I don’t do fighting if I can avoid it.”

“You just stunned a building full of cops!”

Luci holds my pistol back out to me. “I mean yeah, but I only did it because the Boss asked me to. I wanted to leave you in here, but she insisted that I get you out and get you offworld.”

I take my pistol back, looking it over. It’s almost dead; the power cell’s going to need a recharge or a replacement. “You realize you have pretty much ruined my life, right? I’m not going to be able to go back to my job after this. I’ll be on the run; Shinobe Kibe’s going to put out a reward for my capture if I leave this world.”

“Dude, what were you going to do?” Luci says, gesturing around. “Sit around in here waiting for CURSE to send a lawyer to bring charges against you so they could lock you up for even longer? I thought you were a Challenger, not someone that would sit around waiting to get framed!”

“I just…” I exhale in frustration, looking away. “…it just sucks is all. I got a good job. I was living a quiet life. I was playing by the rules. And then this goes and happens.”

“Yeah, life’s not fair.” Luci says, hitching his hands on his hips. “So you can sit here and let it steamroll you. Or you can get up, give life the middle finger, and take back control of your circumstance instead of letting your circumstances control you.”

I run a hand through my hair. “…yeah fine whatever. I’m still pissed about everything I’m leaving behind. I don’t own a lot, but what I do have is important to me.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I already grabbed all your stuff.” Luci says, pulling out the badge again and tapping it to the wall. “Soon as the Boss told me that leaving you behind wasn’t an option, I called up a mover, went to your place, and starting packing all your stuff up. I also paid up your landlady for the rest of your contract.”

“You… you what?” I say, following him out into the hall as the screen regresses again, and he closes it behind us. “I still had three months left on my contract—”

“Luckily for you, the project’s got some private backing.” Luci says, leading down the hall. “So we’ve got expendable revenue that we can burn on making sure you have a clean exit from this world. Speaking of burning money on things, we’re going to need to get you a fresh change of clothes. Walking around in a pink hoodie splattered with dried blood is prolly gonna raise a few flags with most people that have been watching the news.”

“Yeah, that’s not my…” I trail off as we enter the precinct’s main office. Every officer still in the building is slumped over their desk or on the floor, out cold. “Good grief, Luci.”

“Like I said, you have a shitty stun pistol. I would invest in a better model if I were you. Thankfully, the project can provision you with one of those once we rendezvous with the others.” Luci says, tucking his hands in his pockets and strolling around the desks on his way to the door. “The Boss has pulled a few strings to get us an offworld flight at one of the private starports out in the desert. On the drive there, I want you to give me your bank information so we can drain your accounts before the police pull the freeze and seize maneuver that they usually do for outlaws. If you’ve got any media presence on the galaxynet, we’ll need to scrub that as well so they can’t track you.”

“No social media.” I say, keeping a hand on my stunner as we step out of the precinct into the desert night, and I do a cursory scan around the parking lot. “Gave up on that a decade ago. Someone always managed to figure out who I was and then the trolls came running.”

“Oh good, a hermit. Makes my job easier.” Luci says as a black car pulls up, and he opens the backseat door for me. “Get in, we’re on a timetable here. Place is going to be swarming with badges once someone turns up and realizes we’ve stunned the entire nightshift.”

“You stunned the entire nightshift.” I say, ducking into the backseat and settling in while he gets into the shotgun seat. The first thing I notice is that the leather’s really nice; the second thing I notice is that the driver is a Cyber with no facial array. It’s the sort of thing you’d expect from mob muscle. “But if the pattern holds, I’ll catch the blame for it.”

Even though I can’t see Luci’s face, I can hear his smirk. “Well, I did use your pistol.” he says, pulling the door shut as the car starts moving. “Besides, you’re already suspected of a terrorist attack at a starport. Might as well go for bonus points and add an escape from police custody.”

I blow out a long breath, slouching into the seat as we pull out of the precinct parking lot and get underway. “Feels like I’m going to end up getting turned into the public’s punching bag. Again.”

Luci laces his fingers behind his head as we pick up speed, the lights on either side starting to blur by us. “Welcome back to the media machine, 5377. Truth is inconvenient if it doesn’t drive the narrative that spikes the ratings, and if there’s one thing the media loves, it’s a good bad guy.” I can see his eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “But you already know that, don’t you.”

I don’t answer, looking at the window, and my dim reflection in it. Those dark red irises, almost black, staring back at me.

I knew all too well that the media loved a good bad guy.

Intercepted Transmission

Shinobe Kibe Police Department to Vaunted Headquarters

Earlier that day

Operator: Vaunted Headquarters, how may I direct your call?

Chief Holberg: Hello, this is Police Chief Holberg with the Shinobe Kibe Police Department. I need a Level 3 escalation, please.

O: Certainly, Chief Holberg. Can I have a brief description of the issue to pass along to the supervisor?

CH: Potential breach of the Challenger Activities Ban.

O: Understood. Transferring you now.

[hold music]

Vaunted System Supervisor 31: Hello, this is Vaunted System Supervisor 31. I understand I am speaking to Police Chief Holberg of the Shinobe Kibe system, calling to report a potential Challenger Activities infraction?

CH: That’s correct.

VSS31: I see. Give me a moment to get the form up. Is the issue you’re reporting still ongoing or has it been resolved?

CH: It’s been resolved. I have the involved Challenger in custody; we’re currently holding him for questioning.

VSS31: Understood. Do you have this Challenger’s identification number?

CH: 5377, Feroce Acceso.

VSS31: Alright, let me bring that up here. Give me a moment.

CH: No problem.

[extended silence, sound of typing]

VSS31: Alright, here we go… oh.

CH: Yeah.

VSS31: Mmm. Wow. Okay. You sure it’s 5377?

CH: Yeah, I felt the same way when they told me he was going to be living under my jurisdiction.

VSS31: You’ve got my condolences. Alright, what’d he do?

CH: We don’t know if he actually did it; he says he was chasing down a Maskling. The roof of the starport lobby did get caved, though, and we have people in the hospital.

VSS31: Anyone dead?

CH: Allegedly, just the Maskling. He claims she threw herself on his sword while they were fighting.

VSS31: Right. Did she slip on a banana peel while she was at it?

CH: I wish. Would make it easier to explain away the rest.

VSS31: Well, hang in there, Chief. We’ll dispatch a team and I’ll send a memo to Command. I do need to fill out the rest of this form, though, so if you don’t mind walking me through what happened, starting at the beginning, with timestamps, if you have them.

CH: Certainly. My detectives have provided me with a breakdown of events, so I’ll just read straight from that report, if you don’t mind…

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Shinobe Kibe: Caloran Private Starport: Runway

10:09pm SGT

The door clomps shut behind Luci as he steps out of the car, and he gives a long stretch, tail lashing back and forth. “Mmmf. Long car rides. I love it when I don’t have to drive. You know the front seat has a built-in massager? Heavenly, lemme tell you.”

I watch as the car pulls around and drives back down the runway, then turn my attention to the private cruiser looming before us. The glow of the city is distant enough that I can actually see the stars out here; the wind blowing across the open desert is tugging at my hair. It feels like fingers, trying to pull me back towards the city.

“Hey, you okay?” Luci asks, sizing me up. “You look kinda spaced out there.”

“It’s just hard.” I say, staring back towards the city. “I’m just gonna… up and leave. Won’t even get the chance to tell anyone I’m leaving, explain what happened, tell my boss I won’t be in tomorrow… just gone, like I was never there.”

Luci stares back at the city, then looks at me. “There someone back there that you love?” he asks.

I look at him. “What? No.”

“Alright then, then you ain’t got anything worth staying for.” he says, waving me along. “Let’s go. Even if you explained, nobody would believe you; your boss is going to replace you within the week; and if there’s nobody here you love, then you don’t need to tell anyone you’re leaving. You keep building up this life you have here like it was something worth sticking to, 5377. But are you really gonna miss it?”

“I mean, some parts…” I shrug.

“Which parts? The part where a normal workday involves getting chewed out by racist backworld hicks six systems over? The part where you got stuck in traffic every morning? This godawful heat where it’s triple digits even after the sun’s gone down? It can’t be the nightlife, because from the reports it sounds like you never went anywhere but work and the grocery store.” 

“Alright, now it just feels like you’re attacking my lack of a social life.” I say, folding my arms.

“Hey, you’re the one that admitted to it.” He hitches a hand on his hip. “Stop lying to yourself, 5377. There isn’t anything here worth staying for. This is just what the authorities have conditioned you to tell yourself since the program shut down: that you’re not a Challenger anymore; that you should find a nice, quiet, domestic life, never get in any trouble, and be a good galactic citizen. You used to be something more than that. And they don’t want you to go back to being that. CURSE doesn’t want you to go back to being that. They want you to stay on the sidelines, so they can keep shaping the galaxy how they want it, without anyone there to push back against them.”

I give a last, long look at the glow of the city in the distance. After a moment, I turn and start towards the boarding ramp, passing Luci on the way there. “I don’t know what I’m going to become, but I very much doubt I’ll go back to being what I was before.”

“What, you didn’t like who you were before?” Luci asks, following me up the boarding ramp.

“Not necessarily, I’m just…” I search for the words to describe it as I step into the cruiser. “I still believe in the things I believed in back then, but I see things with a little more nuance now.” As the hatch closes behind us, I stop and stare around the sumptuous cabin. The seats are fully reclining and cushioned, and instead of sitting in rows, they’re well-spaced and arranged around tables in sets of four. “Jeez. Who did we kill to get a ride like this?”

Luci smirks. “The Boss has connections like you would not believe, dude.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulls a metal thermos and holds it out to me. It’s the same one that he filled up at the hemopharmacist’s. “You left this in the car. Doesn’t look like you drank any of it because your irises are looking pretty dark.”

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ kinda low. Took a sword through the chest at the starport, so I burned through more of my reserves than I was expecting.” I admit, reaching out and taking it. “Are we the only people on this flight?”

“Yeah. Speaking of which, let’s take a seat. Can’t take off unless we’re buckled in.” he says, making his way over to one of the seats and flopping down in it. “We’ve got all your stuff in the cargo hold; you can go rifle through it once we go to warp. There’s also onboard showers, so you can get cleaned up and out of those bloody clothes.”

“Not gonna lie; a shower sounds nice.” I say, sitting down across from him and buckling in. Twisting the cap on the thermos so the mouth opens, I take a sip, then cover my mouth, staring at it. “Shit that’s good.”

“It’s virgin pureblood. Of course it is.” Luci says, folding one leg over the other with a smirk. “Obviously I’m not a member of the Families, but I’ve worked for plenty of them, and I’ve seen the difference between mudblood, pureblood, virgin blood, and all the other variations there are. Pureblood and virgin blood do wonders for your kind, really brings out that healthy glow and provides that long-lasting energy.”

“Costs an arm and a leg, even with a card.” I say, taking another sip from the thermos. “So where’s this rendezvous point?”

“Moros system, out in frontier space. Favorite hang spot for mercs to hang out while waiting for a job to come down the pipe. The entire system’s owned by the Guild; it’s a neutral zone, so Vaunted don’t have jurisdiction there.” Luci says as the cruiser starts moving down the runway. “Since I didn’t find it in the evidence box in the precinct, I assume that you managed to hide the data core where they wouldn’t find it?”

I pause in taking my next sip. “…no, she still has it.”

Luci’s brows draw together, and he scratches the side of his head. “…well, that complicates things.” he says, reaching into his jacket. “You weren’t able to wrestle it away from her?”

“It was… secured in a way that would’ve made it difficult to obtain.” I say, focusing on my thermos and taking a long sip. “Things got complicated when the roof collapsed.”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll let the Boss know.” he says, starting to type out a message on his phone. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I tailed the contact all the way to her flight after she pulled that switcharoo with the flight attendant. Maskling, am I right? This’ll make things interesting. Wonder why they’re after the data core.”

“Wait, you were following me back at the starport?” I demand. “You just let me get arrested up there on the roof?”

Luci lets out a pffft sound as he continues texting. “What was I going to do, get in there and help you fight off the security and escape? That would’ve just made you look more guilty. Didn’t want to make a bad situation worse, so I let you get arrested, then tailed the Maskling so I could figure out what flight she was on so we could track it later. I figured if we needed you, I could always go back later and break you out. Which, lucky for you, is exactly what the Boss asked me to do.”

“You mean you would’ve just left me in prison if your boss hadn’t told you to let me out?” I demand as the cruiser starts tilting up, leaving the runway.

Luci holds up a hand. “Hey, look. I told you, I’m just a messenger. I’m not a Challenger like you; I don’t take stands on principle and stuff like that. If you’re looking for a hill to die on or a hero to look up to, you’re looking in the wrong place. That’s what the Boss needs you for, not me.”

I slump back in my seat, looking out the window as the lights of the city start to shrink beneath us. “Unbelievable. You actually would’ve waltzed off and left me to take the fall.”

“If it helps, it’s nothing personal.” Luci says, going back to typing out his message. “I get it; you were a Challenger. Loyalty and doing the right thing was a big deal for you. But not everybody rolls that way, 5377. In fact, most of the galaxy doesn’t roll that way. We’re not all heroes like you are.”

“Nowhere in any history text or news report will you find the word ‘hero’ being used in reference to me.”

“Eh. True.” Luci shrugs, sending his message and tucking his phone away. “But the Boss says you’re a hero, and the project needs one of those.”

“Mmm.” I say, taking another sip from the thermos and looking back out the window, watching as the surface of Shinobe Kibe starts to grow distant. “Nothing against your boss, but she should probably look somewhere other than the bargain bin for her heroes.”

“Your record leaves something to be desired.” Luci agrees with a smirk. “But sometimes, we’ve just got to make do with what we can get our hands on.”

Shinobe Kibe Breaking News Alert

“This just in: a rogue retired Challenger, rumored to have been involved in the terrorist incident at the Shinobe Kibe Starport, has escaped incarceration at the Shinobe Kibe Police Precinct. Police coming off duty arrived to the precinct to find the vast majority of the night watch stunned, and cell holding the suspect empty. In the hours since, a Priority 1 alert has been issued to all municipalities on the surface of Shinobe Kibe, and police are working to track the suspect and his accomplice, who enabled the suspect’s escape. All flights in and out of the system are being closely monitored for both fugitives.

“If you should happen to see either of these individuals, do not approach them and immediately contact your local authorities. Both are assumed to be armed and dangerous, the Challenger especially so.”

Event Log: Lucanthiline

Caloran Private Cruiser: Luci’s Cabin

8/26/12763 4:20am LST

“Not gonna lie, Boss, I was kinda expecting something… more.” I say, flicking through the file I’ve got on 5377 as I’m sprawled out on the bed in my cabin.

“More what?” asks the box beside me. Comms in hyperspace are a bitch, so specialized equipment is needed to communicate with all the scrubs that are hanging out in the normal space-time continuum.

“I just… I dunno. This is the guy that destroyed the Challenger program?” I say, lifting my head to make sure the door’s locked. “I’m not seeing it. He’s just kind of a… lost soul.”

“He didn’t destroy the program. He was just the pawn that pushed the first domino, but he wasn’t the one that set them up in the first place.” the box crackles in return. “What do you mean, he’s a lost soul?”

“He’s lost.” I say, scanning through pictures of 5377 in action before the program was shut down. “When was the last time you looked him in the eye?”

“Take a wild guess, Luci.”

“So you haven’t looked this kid in the eye in fifteen years.”

“I was little busy cleaning up his mess. But yeah, has he been giving you the puppy eyes?”

“No.” I say, pausing on a picture of 5377 in his profile. Owlish, blank, uncomplicated, faintly confused as if the picture had caught him off guard. “Sometimes you look at a person and you know they’re lost inside their own life, caught between who they want to be and what everyone else tells them they should be. Like they’re trying so hard to fit in, but they’re being asked to abandon who they are in order to make it work.” I scroll down to another picture of him in his file, this time with other Challengers. “When I was trying to talk him off Shinobe Kibe, he kept on whining and moaning about how he’d lose the life he’d built up there, but the way he moved, the way he talked about it, it was like there was something in him fighting, begging to get free of the cage he’s been living in.”

“Good for us, it means he’s ready to get back to doing what he was doing before we got shut down.”

I don’t say anything. The Boss is like this; she’s practical, straightforward, isn’t really a fan of the nuances, or at least she pretends like she isn’t. She pretends to be nonchalant, but I know she pays attention to the details.

“Y’know, I’ve only spent a day or so with him.” I eventually say. “So I could be wrong; I haven’t had the chance to see all his sides, but…” I take a moment to think about what I’m about to say. “He wasn’t the one that pulled the trigger, was he.”

The box is silent. After a moment, I set the data slate down, turning my head so I can look at the box while I wait for the response.

“Why does it matter?”

“I dunno.” I say, reaching out and turning off the data slate. “Because the truth is supposed to matter, or something like that. It’s why people try so hard to find it. Control it, manipulate it.”

“Get some sleep, Luci. You’ve been awake for too long.”

“No such thing as awake too long when you’re in hyperspace.” I say, reaching out to the box. “But I’ll take a nap. See you soon, Boss.”

Shutting it off with a soft click, I close my eyes and curl up on the covers.

Intercepted Transmission

CURSE Relay Satellite to Undisclosed Recipients

5:39am SGT

>New infraction of Challenger Activities Ban logged by system.

>Unit has previous or active instance on file?

>>Statement returned false.

>>Generating new case…

>New case file generated for Unit 5377. Compiling data for case file…

>Data compiled. Determining operatives to assign to file…

>>Blockchain available.

>>Axiom available.

>>Gossamer unavailable.

>>Onslaught available.

>>Whisper unavailable.

>Blockchain added to case file.

>Axiom added to case file.

>Onslaught added to case file.

>Notifying CURSE Administrator…

>Adding case file to active docket for analyst review…

>Placing assigned operatives on standby pending case approval.

Event Log: Lucanthiline

Caloran Private Cruiser: Common Cabin

9:59am LST

When I step back into the common cabin, it’s to find that the place is littered with boxes and there is stuff just everywhere. And right in the dead center of it is 5377, running a hand through that obnoxiously blue hair of his, staring at the mess surrounding him on all sides.

“Should I even ask?” I say, taking a bite out of my breakfast pastry.

“When you said you hired a mover to clean out my apartment, I figured they were professionals.” he puffs, looking around. “I started opening boxes down in the cargo hold. Nothing was organized. My clothes were scattered through like eight different boxes and all of them had been unfolded.”

“Well, it was a rush job. We had to get everything out of there before the police got out a warrant to search your place.” I shrug, stepping over a small pile of books on my way to one of the cabin’s tables. “It was more a grab and go than a tidy affair.”

“I’m just making sure you got everything.” he says, grabbing a bag and starting to stuff a pile of clothes in it. “I don’t own a lot, but what I have is important to me.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” I say, flopping down in one of the seats and kicking my feet up on the table. “Never really settled down, did you?”

“Everything I own could fit into my car.” he says, still stuffing clothes into the bag. “If I needed to pack up and leave, I could be gone in under twelve hours. Only things I’d leave behind is whatever’s in the pantry.”

“That’s a Challenger perspective if I ever saw one.” I say, finishing my pastry and licking my fingers, then rubbing them off on my pants. “Y’know you could’ve just waited to unpack all this and organize it when we got to the mobile fortress, right?”

“I can’t leave it like this. It bothers me.” he says, pushing the bag to the side and grabbing a shirt, starting to fold it. “All the clothes should be folded and in the same boxes, unless they’re dirty; if they’re dirty, they go in the laundry bag. Folding clothes reduces the amount of space they take up, so that you can fit more into fewer boxes and it takes up less space. Books and odds and ends go in the same boxes and need to packed like a 3-D puzzle so you can fit all of them into fewer boxes. If you don’t pack tight and neat, it means more trips to transport everything.”

I can’t help but smirk at that. “You sound like metropolitan mother packing for a vacation. So domestic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be neat and organized.” he answers tersely, setting the shirt into a pile of folded clothes and reaching for the next one. “There’s a measure of self-respect that goes into cleaning up after yourself and keeping your living space spruced up.”

“If you say so.” I say, lifting my data slate and starting to flick through it. “I gave the Boss the info on the flight the Maskling took, so they’re tracking that now. Once they have the flight manifest and the Maskling’s final destination, they’ll adjust our jump course to intercept her there. In the meantime, the Boss recommended we do our homework on Masklings.”

“Your boss honestly thinks that I don’t know about Masklings?” 5377 asks as he folds another shirt. “What, does she think I live under a rock? Just because I don’t have socmed doesn’t mean I don’t watch the news.”

“Everyone knows about Masklings. Knows they exist, knows how they work, knows why people are suspicious about them and hate them in some cases.” I say, flicking through a library of documentaries. “But what do you actually know about Masklings?”

“Well, they need hosts, everybody knows that.” 5377 says, starting to fold a pair of jeans. “They make great spies, and they’re dangerous because they adapt the abilities and the knowledge of their hosts. They can die but they never really die, because as soon as someone else puts their Mask on, they live again. Pick up right where they left off. I fought my fair share of them back when I was still in the program; they weren’t your standard mooks. Most of the ones I fought had a few tricks up their sleeves. A lot of them leaned pretty heavily on magic, but there were some that relied heavily on physical adaptations.”

“That’s the tactical breakdown.” I say, picking out a few documentaries and linking up the data slate to the cabin’s entertainment nexus. “The Boss knows you know what the Masklings are. She wants you to read up on who they are.”

He looks around as the holoarray flickers to life, the lights in the cabin dimming. The words Unmasking the Myth play through the air before opening up to view of a busy plaza, with the filming crew moving towards what appears to be a Quill Sanctuary.

“Really?” he asks, glancing aside to me. “A documentary?”

“Don’t be a hater. Documentaries are great because someone else does all the investigative legwork, then cuts and edits it into a nice, neat, 90-minute package that’s easy for normal people to process.” I say, reclining the seat and lacing my fingers behind my head. “Besides, this is the best we can do without actually having a Maskling we can talk to.”

“When I was a Challenger we would’ve done extensive research on a subject and put together a comprehensive briefing…”

“Yeah, and in my day, we killed Shyl-tari for breakfast and nibbled on ecclesiarchs for our midmorning snack. Shut up and watch the documentary, 5377.”

Interview with an anonymous Maskling

Excerpt from the documentary ‘Unmasking the Myth’

Released in 12577

“We’re people.”

“That’s what you would tell everyone if you could tell them one thing about Masks?”

“Yeah. It is. It’s really as simple as that.”

“Why do you say that? Why do you think people need to know that?”

“Because people don’t know that. They don’t think that. Other people don’t think that Masks, or Masklings, count as people. As living, sentient beings with rights. And I know — I know that other people take issue with certain aspects of our culture, and that’s a topic for later, but when it comes to our day to day lives, we are people just like the rest of you. We go to the store, buy groceries. We have to pay rent. We have to go to our jobs. We hate Mondays. We say we’ll do something on the weekend but when we get there all we do is binge-watch our favorite shows. Just like everybody else in the galaxy does. We’re people just like the rest of you.”

“Do you get a lot of people that don’t treat you like a person?”

“No. Not really. But then again, most people don’t realize I’m a Maskling. Most people wouldn’t know a Maskling if they saw them. They don’t realize their neighbor is a Maskling, the cashier at the checkout is a Maskling, don’t realize their portfolio manager is a Maskling. And that’s because we’re just like the rest of you.”

“So you wouldn’t really say that you’ve encountered racism against Masklings, then?”

“Y’know, it’s funny that you say that, and a lot of people assume that. People always think that just because the galaxy doesn’t know I’m a Maskling, I don’t encounter Maskling racism. But it’s there; it exists; it’s just, often, it’s not directed at me.”

“Really? How do you mean?”

“Let me tell you a funny little story about the last place I worked. I had this coworker — now don’t get me wrong, she was a great person, often put her foot in her mouth but her heart was usually in the right place. We worked together pretty often, and we were friends, got along pretty well. I don’t know how it happened, but one day the topic of Masks came up, and she just went off. Five minute screed about how Masks were parasites and thieves that stole the soul of cultures and were a threat to civilization as we know it, and how the galaxy would be better off if they all just up and died. The type of thing you expect to see off of SCORN media. And she said all of this not realizing that she was ranting and raving to a Maskling.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say a damn thing. I think at the end I said really and wow, I never knew and I played dumb. What do you say to something like that? What do you say to someone who just said that your entire species should go extinct? Would they have said that if they knew you were a member of that species? Maybe they would’ve thought it, instead of saying it out loud.”

“So you just let her slide on that?”

“I mean, yeah. Thinking back on it, I can remember thinking that this was so crazy. Part of me was thinking I should just keep my mouth shut, it wasn’t a battle worth fighting; another part of me was just kinda… stunned that someone would say those things in public. With other people listening. Wishing an entire race to death! And part of me just didn’t want to lose a friend. Isn’t that terrible? You’re scared of telling your friends what you really are because they might not be your friends anymore.”

“That’s quite something, yeah.”

“So yeah, I just… let it slide. The right thing to do would’ve been to say something, to speak up and own it. Own what I am. But the easy thing is to just let it go. And I took the easy way because it can be hard. It can be really hard, to get a friend and then lose them just because you’re something that you have no control over. I can’t help being a Mask, y’know? I didn’t get to choose my species.”

“Basically, it’s not your fault you were born a Mask.”

“Exactly. That exactly. That’s like getting mad at the sun for shining or getting pissed off at water because it’s wet. I am what I am, and getting mad at me for it won’t change what I am. I don’t have the power to do that, you don’t have the power to do that, nobody has the power to do that. Masklings can’t help that they are Masklings. So what I want the rest of the galaxy to know is that Masklings are people. Just like everyone else. And we just want to be treated like it.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Caloran Private Cruiser: Common Cabin

10:52am LST

Setting aside the shirt I’d been folding, I reach over to Luci’s data slate and hit the pause button. The image on the holoprojector freezes, caught in the gap between interviews, and I lean back against the chair behind me, letting out a long sigh.

“Y’know, we used to fix stuff like that.” I say quietly. “It wasn’t all doomsday machines and dictators. We did cultural work too. Helped build bridges, forge bonds, worked as ambassadors… Challengers were more than just combat operatives. We helped build a better galaxy.”

There’s no response from Luci. Turning my head, I check him again to find that he’s still curled up in his chair and fast asleep. The documentary did him in; it took thirty minutes before he was out like a light, leaving me to continue organizing all my mortal possessions while I watched the documentary.

“Not that anyone ever paid attention to that part.” I say, pushing myself to my feet. It’s easier to talk about my past when there’s someone else around, and yet I would only do it when I knew they couldn’t hear me. I don’t know why. “The battles were what got attention. The action-packed fights and dynamic throwdowns. But we did more than that. We were more than that. More than just soldiers, more than just war machines.”

Pushing aside my bag of dirty clothes, I start picking up the folded piles of clean clothes and carefully tucking them away in the storage bins. “We were a force for good. And we were good people, most of us. There were some bad apples, it’s true, but that didn’t mean we should’ve been shut down. Just because a few apples were rotten doesn’t mean you should cut the tree down.” Sitting back on my heels, I pull the lid over the packed bin and let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“I wish you could’ve seen us the way we were before we got shut down.” I say to Luci, pushing the closed bin out of the way and pulling another one to me. “I wish you could’ve seen the good Challengers. With the way the media covered it, and the propaganda pieces that CURSE kept putting out, you’d think the entire program was made of psychopaths and mass murderers. But that’s not how most of us were. We were good people, just trying to do the right thing.”

“Of course there were good Challengers. There’s an animated kid’s show called Courageous: Tales from the Challenger Initiative. Hell, they’ve got like three or four comic book lines about the adventures of the Challengers, too.”

“Anaya above!” I hiss, twisting around to see Luci blinking owlishly at me. “I thought you were asleep!”

“Catnap. I woke up to you waxing poetic about your glory days.”

“I would’ve kept it to myself if I knew you were listening.” I mutter, starting to stuff my folded clothes into the next bin.

“Aw what, you don’t like confiding in me?” Luci coos. “Scared of showing your vulnerable side?”

“I’d rather not have my nostalgia mocked, thank you very much.” I reply tersely.

“You yearn for something that’s never coming back.” Luci yawns, stretching out in his chair. “Why do you keep pining over something that doesn’t exist anymore?”

“Because it was good while it did exist.” I snap back at him. “There were good people in the program. And we loved our jobs. We loved what we did. It was hard, and some days were worse than others. It was really hard towards the end, when the public turned against us, but we kept doing what we did, trying to live up to our mission, because it was the right thing to do. And when we found out how corrupted our command structure had become, we tried so hard to tell the Administrator what he needed to do to fix things. And we were all willing to help him. Because we were losing people, and we knew what would happen if the organization didn’t change.”

Looking down at the shirt in my hands, I relax my hands from where my fingers had curled into fists around it. After a moment, I slowly start refolding it. “We put our hearts and souls into trying to keep that ship from sinking. But it doesn’t matter what you do when the captain’s already decided he’s going down with the ship.”

Luci doesn’t reply to that. I can hear him shift a little in the chair as I refold the shirt, and slowly stack it into the box along with the other clothes. As I turn to start grabbing the next pile, Luci asks his question, less flippant now: “So what happened to the crew?”

“The crew?” I say quietly. “A lot of them abandoned ship. The younger ones that hadn’t been on the ship quite as long. It wasn’t their life, the way it was for some of the older Challengers. The young ones could move onto different things, start again somewhere else. But the older Challengers had dedicated years, decades of their lives to the mission. A lot of them went down with the ship. Stayed right up to the end, and if they weren’t killed outright, then CURSE usually disappeared them. There one day, gone the next. No trace, no explanation, nothing.”

“And you survived because you abandoned ship with the others?”

“I didn’t abandon ship; I was thrown overboard by the ship’s officers.” I snort. “A futile sacrifice made on the altar of public opinion. They pushed me over the railing thinking it would lighten the load and save the ship. They didn’t realize the ship was sinking under their weight, not mine.”

Luci is quiet for a moment. “Fifteen years on, and you’re still angry about this. I thought you would’ve moved on by now.”

“I have. Mostly.” I say, tucking the last stack of clothes into the next bin, then grabbing the lid and fitting it on. “I still get angry when I think about it, though. Because there were good people in the program. People that cared about doing the right thing. People that put their heart and soul into making the galaxy a better place. And they got punished for it.”

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s life, dude. Life isn’t fair, and bad things happen to good people.” Luci says, his seat humming quietly as he un-reclines it.

“That’s true.” I say, locking the lid shut on the bin. “Bad things do happen to good people. But we don’t have to stand by and just let them happen. We can step in and do something about it.” I turn to look at him from where I’m sitting. “That’s what true Challengers believed in. And it was something worth fighting for.”

Luci reaches for his data slate again. “What are you going to do about it, then? Can’t save the program. It’s been dead fifteen years. You can’t bring back something that’s not there anymore.”

“I don’t know.” I say, looking around at the rest of my things that still need to be packed up. “But I’m not going to stand by again and let CURSE cross off the rest of the Challengers.”

“Well then.” Luci says, unpausing the documentary. “We better learn as much as we can about Masklings, then, so we can get that data core when you go on your second date with that feisty little lady.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing another bin so I can start filling it. “First date didn’t go too hot, what with her killing herself and all.”

Luci smirks. “She comes from a culture where dying isn’t as big a deal for them as it is for the rest of us. Maybe that’s their equivalent of a goodnight kiss.”

That earns him a flat look from me, but as the documentary picks up again, I turn to watch it once more. Even though my attention is on the images and the sounds, I find myself idly thinking about how Kiwi’s blood felt on my hands and my face, soaking into my skin as she grinned up at me.

Interview with a senior Quill at a Quill Sanctuary

Excerpt from the documentary ‘Unmasking the Myth’

Released in 12577

“What most people fail to understand is that the vast majority of individuals that serve as Maskbearers do so willingly, and of their own accord.”

“And — just so we’re clear for the audience here — when you say Maskbearer, what you’re referring to are people that are hosts to a Mask, correct?”

“That’s correct; that's the terminology we use here at the Sanctuary. A Mask is a sentient, living individual contained within an actual physical mask; a Maskbearer is an individual that agrees to wear that mask. Together, the two constitute a Maskling, an individual comprised from those two individuals being fused together into a single entity.”

“You say it’s a single entity, but common understanding of the Masking process is that the entity within the Mask usually consumes the mind and soul of the Maskbearer. The entity within the Mask is dominant, and the Maskbearer’s identity is absorbed into the Mask’s identity.”

“That’s a mischaracterization of the process. There’s the implication of a predatory relationship and, in the past, that was very much the reality. But in the modern day and age, Maskbearers are willing hosts, as I said before. It’s not so much the Mask consuming the host as it is the host and Mask becoming a single entity. There is no ‘killing’ or ‘consumption’ involved. The Maskbearer does not die in any sense, but it is the start of a new existence for the host, one where it has become an entirely new individual, and that individual is the Maskling.”

“You say that the Maskbearer doesn’t die, but it ceases to be what it was before. That is, by some measurements, a description of death.”

“It could be. But it also describes a butterfly, doesn’t it? A caterpillar weaves a chrysalis; it emerges a butterfly. It is no longer what it was before; it is something different, but is it dead?”

“That’s a physical transformation, though; at the end of the day the butterfly still has the same consciousness as it had before. With Masklings, we’re talking about deconstruction of the Maskbearer’s individuality. A Maskbearer ceases to be an individual once they become a Maskling. In the philosophical and practical sense, the person they were dies.”

“If you consider change to be equivalent to death, then yes, we could consider that death. But for Quills and Masklings, that is not death to us. Imagine a glass of water; let’s say you put a drop of red dye in it. Mix it around, you have red water. Now let’s say you put a drop of blue dye in it, mix it in, and naturally, it turns purple. The red dye and the blue dye are both still in that glass; they both still exist, but they no longer exist in isolation from each other. They have formed something new, something that is sum of its parts - neither of which have ceased existing. This is how we view Masklings.”

“So — if you’ll pardon me venturing a comparison — almost like elements. Hydrogen and oxygen — put them together and you get water. They form something new, but they’re still the sum of their constituent parts.”

“Precisely. Now you understand — Masking isn’t killing someone. But it is the beginning of a new existence.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Caloran Private Cruiser: Common Cabin

4:28am LST

“Hey, what’s up with all these empty bins?”

I look up from my headset to see Luci nudging one of the bins with his foot. “That’s the leftovers. I managed to consolidate all my stuff into fewer boxes and put them back in the cargo hold.”

“Packing skills like that, you missed your calling in interstellar shipping and freight hauling.” Luci says, wandering over to drape lazily over the back of my seat and stare at what I’m working on. “Hot damn. Is that a Crescendo headset?”

“I don’t own much, but when it comes to my sound systems, I need quality.” I say, continuing to fidget with the dual headband.

“Quality is a Forte or a Soundwave brand. Only a true audiophile would shell out for a Crescendo headset.” Luci says. “Guess it makes sense, considering who you are.”

“I feel like I should be offended by the fact that you’re making that assumption, but at the same time, I also can’t say that you’re wrong.” I mutter, locking in the upper headband’s length setting.

“Well, it’s not hard to connect the dots.” Luci says, pushing off my seat and moving over to flop down in the one across from me. “Your irises are also looking a much healthier shade of red now. You finished that thermos yet?”

“Most of it. I always save a little bit, just in case of an emergency.”

“Well, it’s good to see you’re in tiptop shape, because we just got orders in from the Boss. They just got done tracking the Maskling’s flight and all her connecting stops.” Picking up his data slate, Luci flicks through a couple screens before flipping it around to show me a blue-green world where about 85% of the surface is water. “Final destination: Valcorria.”

I set my headphones down, peering at the world. “Valcorria. I’ve been there before. It’s a nice place, nice people. We saved their world once, and they’ve loved us ever since. They even gave us a museum to put our stuff and provide a history of the Challengers, as a counterpoint to all the propaganda that CURSE was putting out.”

“Makes sense that this is the world where the Challenger backup archive would be hidden, then.” Luci says, flipping the data slate back around to start poking through Valcorria’s world data. “I’ve already given the information to the pilot, and we’re going to divert to Valcorria  once we reach our next jump stop. Current calculations have us arriving there well before the Maskling will, since she’s flying budget and coach, so we’ll have time to settle in and get our bearings before she arrives.”

“We’ll be able to get the jump on her, then.” I say, picking up my headset again. “This time, I’m going straight for the stun. Not going to have a repeat of the starport suicide nonsense.”

Luci grins over the top of his data slate. “Yeah, your last date didn’t go so hot. Don’t worry, this time you’ll have a wingman. The Boss has asked me to get involved and help pull some of the weight this time around.”

“I thought you didn’t do combat.” I point out.

“I don’t. That’s what you’re here for.” Luci says, kicking his feet up on the table and reclining his seat. “I’ll do the reconnaissance, shadowing, and spying. I’ll be the one that tracks down the problem and lets you know where it is and where it’s going, and you’ll be the one that deals with it. Sounds fair enough, right?”

I pause in putting my headset on, thinking about that arrangement. When it came down to it, it wasn’t altogether so different from how things used to be when I was in the program. And honestly, after all this time spent going things alone, it felt nice to have a wingman again.

“Yeah.” I say, putting my headset on and kicking my feet up on the table the same way he has, folding one leg over the other. “Sounds fair to me, so long as you don’t leave me high and dry and get me arrested like last time.”

Luci gives a chuckle, smirking through his slate. “You know, I wasn’t too impressed with you when I met you, and you’re still not much compared to other Challengers… but for someone that got the program shut down, you’re a pretty okay, 5377.”

My mouth curls up at the corner. “A good bad guy, right?”

“That exactly.”

Smiling, I turn on my headphones, then lace my fingers behind my head and close my eyes, leaning back in my seat.