Valiant

[Valiant #24: The Cradle]

Log Date: 2/20/12764

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Sector 2, random rooftop

10:21am SGT

“It’s really something, isn’t it?”

I look over my shoulder to see Kiwi walking across the roof, hands tucked in the pockets of her long white jacket with the high collar. Her hair’s pulled back in a messy ponytail, as it always is, with a few locks left free to frame the sides of her face. She stops beside me at the roof’s edge, and I look back to the vista I’d been studying.

“Yeah, it is.” I say quietly. Stretched before us is the interior of the Cradle — though it’s technically a ship, calling it one is a joke. No, this is a literal metropolis that can travel the galaxy, an entire city that has FTL drives slapped on it. From the outside, the whole thing looked like some kind of massive black pie sitting in orbit around a gas giant. Now that we’re inside, it’s clear that underneath the raised dome is an entire, literal city — broken into two rings around the center, with six sectors surrounding the central rings, each one containing highways, streets, and buildings. At the center of the Cradle is some sort of power source hovering between two reactors, one anchored at the top of the dome, the other in the city’s center. I’d hesitate to call it a miniaturized star, even though that’s what it looks like — a tight, dense blue ball that casts the entire cityscape in an eerie, aquamarine glow. Panels orbit around the blue ball at a distance, angled and curved in such a way that it seems like they could form a closed sphere around the power source, if they were pulled in.

“Honestly I’m surprised it’s still here and functioning.” Kiwi murmurs. “Our people built the Cradle roughly three thousand years ago — as you already know, to serve as an arkship in case our people were ever driven to the edge of extinction. I would’ve thought that after three millennia, something would’ve given — something would’ve broken down, and the whole thing would’ve gone kaput, bit by bit. But the core is still functioning, at least from what I can tell. I wonder if the rest of it has held up as well.”

“Three thousand years is a long time.” I agree, studying the layout of the buildings across the Cradle. “This wasn’t just a survival ship. It was meant to hold an entire culture. I can see malls in some of the sectors. On the way here I saw buildings that could be used as shops or restaurants.”

“Tarocco said that it was meant to be a colony ship.” Kiwi says, raising a hand to point across the Cradle. “Each of the sectors is its own little mini-city. It’s thought that they could detach from the Cradle and travel independently, or settle on a planet to act as an outpost or as the capitol for a new colony on that world. Even though the core is the main power source for the entire Cradle, each of the sectors has its own power source, in case it had to be deployed away from the Cradle. In a way, each of the sectors is a backup generator in case anything goes wrong with the core.”

“That’s… I’ll admit that’s pretty clever.” I say, leaning my forearms on my legs as I study the entire structure with a new appreciation. “I’ll be honest, you didn’t strike me as the sort to be interested in the technical details.”

“Well, usually I’m not.” Kiwi shrugs, taking her hands out of her pockets as she sits on the ledge beside me. “But this… this is my culture, my heritage. The pride of my people. I can’t help but be interested in it. Look up there.” She lifts a hand again, pointing to the vast dome over the city. “See those lines running through the dome?”

“I do, yeah.”

“The dome is a protective barrier that folds open in segments, like a flower. The exterior of the petals are slabbed in hull armoring several feet thick, while the underside of each petal is lined with panels that can collect solar radiation to help power the city’s systems to reduce reliance on the core.”

“Doesn’t the dome keep the atmosphere in, though?” I point out.

“It does when it’s closed. When it’s open, a massive environmental shield forms a dome from the central reactor all the way to the edges of the city, keeping the atmosphere in.” She pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she keeps staring upwards. “Our people would be able to look up and see the stars through the shield, or the sun, if we were in orbit around a star. Traveling on a massive flower, flying through the cosmos.”

“I’ll admit that’s got a certain poetry to it.” I nod along. “I’m sure your people will be happy to have this back.”

“Yeah, we just gotta get it up and running again.” Kiwi says, staring for a moment more before she starts to get back to her feet. “It’s been in dormancy for three thousand years, and all the systems in here are likewise three thousand years old. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to understand the computers from back then. Plus a vessel like this needs a crapton of crew to get fully running again. I’d figure a skeleton crew of at least a few dozen in order to be operational.”

“I was thinking on the order of at least a hundred.” I say, reaching out and taking the hand she’s offered me so I can get to my feet. “This vessel looks like it could house hundreds of thousands.”

“Something like that. Once we get the nerds out here, they can start nosing through things and start slapping numbers on them.” she says, walking back across the roof with me following her. “That’s gonna be one of our first orders of business: finding the beacon and getting it active again so our people know where to go to start the reclamation process. Once that’s done, we can sit back and let the Republic handle the rest. Once they get the Cradle’s FTL drives figured out, they’ll jump it back to a Maskling system so we can start refurbishing it to modern standards after cataloguing all the cultural… stuff, I guess.”

“Stuff?” I ask, grinning as I follow her.

“Y’know, the… stuff! Ancient writings or documents or hell, I dunno what they’re supposed to be cataloguing.” Kiwi says, waving her hands. “I’m a Mask Knight, not an archaeologist. I fight people and kill things. I don’t walk around making checklists of the old shit that people left behind.”

“Fair enough.” I say as we step onto the hexagonal panel that brought me up here. Kiwi taps the freestanding console on the edge of the panel, and a primitive, basic holoarray springs up; she selects the option for the bottom floor, and a containment field flares to life around the panel’s edges as it starts to descend back into the building. “So we’re just the vanguard, then. Meant to clear out any threats, make sure it’s safe and habitable, and hold down the fort until the scientists and archivers can get here.”

“Pretty much. None of the Masklings that are with us can do any of that. We’re all fighters and soldiers; we get in, kill people, secure the objective, and move on to the next mission.” Kiwi says as the platform descends through the floors of the apartment building we’d been on top of. “We might be able to figure out how to operate the Cradle’s weapons, or its interstellar flight systems, but past that, the rest of the ship’s systems is on the scientists and engineers that are trained to handle that sort of stuff.”

“A ship like this would need all sorts of specialists.” I agree. “The maintenance crew alone… I can’t imagine all the repairs you’d need to make when the ship’s running at full capacity. Although calling it a ship doesn’t feel right; a ship is something you use to get from place to place, but you have to stop to resupply. This is… more like a mobile capital. It seems like it could be self-sustaining to me; entire generations could live and die on a structure like this.”

“It is supposed to be self-sustaining. Underneath each of the sectors, there’s an agriculture layer for cultivating crops, and extensive waste-reclamation plants underneath the central rings.” Kiwi says as the panel reaches the bottom of the apartment building. We step off once the containment field lowers. “Of course, those fields are probably empty, and there’s nothing for the reclamation plants to recycle because no one’s lived here in three thousand years…”

“Yeah, that’s one of the things that’s bothered me about this place.” I mutter as we exit the lobby back onto the street outside. An empty street, buildings dark and silent, as far as the eye can see. “There’s nobody here except us, and that’s creepy in a city that’s this big.”

“Yeah, it feels unnatural.” Kiwi agrees, looking around as we start to head back down the street. “It feels wrong. Your brain just keeps screaming at you that it’s not the way a place like this should be.”

“Liminal space.”

“What?”

“It’s a sensation you get when something’s just slightly off, or not the way it should be.” I explain. “It’s a feeling that something’s wrong, even when nothing’s wrong. Like…” I pause for a moment, trying to think of an example. “…like being alone in your high school at night. Did you ever end up alone in your high school at night?”

She snorts. “Uh, no. Once the bell rang at the end of the day, I was gone.”

“Okay, well, imagine your high school.” I say. “You’re familiar with the halls, you know where all the rooms are, you go there every day, and it’s always filled with students and people and noise. That’s the only way you’ve ever known it to be. But then you come back at night. All the rooms and halls are exactly the same as they always are, but the difference is that there are no people. Which also means there’s no noise. All the halls seem bigger and longer because they are empty. Every noise you make sounds louder because you are the only one making them. And even if you’ve walked these halls hundreds of times, your brain is telling you something is wrong, that you shouldn’t be there, and that this place is dangerous, even though you know it like the back of your hand.”

“Okay, stop. You’re giving me shivers.” Kiwi says, hunching her shoulders and hugging herself. “Yeah, that’s what this feels like. I think it’s the noise that does it for me. A city isn’t supposed to be this silent.” She looks at me. “Why in the world were you at your high school at night? Weren’t getting up to trouble, were you?”

“Wish I could say I was.” I say as we turn the corner onto one of the highways running through this sector. “We lived in a sort of rural beach area. The local branch of our church didn’t have enough money to build a dedicated building for our use, so we spent turns renting out various buildings for our meetings. For a while, we met in the school I went to, and since my father was the branch president, every Saturday night, we would go set up the chairs for the service on Sunday. I used to joke that I went to school seven days a week because of that.”

Kiwi smiles a little at that. “Would you ever want to go back there? To where you grew up, that is.”

I twist my mouth into a slant. “…I could, but I’m not sure what the point would be. With the choices I’ve made, the way my life’s gone… I don’t think I could go back. It’d be like trying to return to a life that no longer exists. I wouldn’t mind visiting, but I don’t think I could stay.” I tuck my hands into the pockets of my longcoat. “What about you? Does this place, this… arkship feel like it could be home to you? A place you’d settle down in, if you got the chance?”

She looks around, shrugging. “I’ve never stayed in one place for very long. The Council’s been using me as an operative since my late teens. I wouldn’t mind coming back here between missions, but I don’t think I could stay here all the time. I’d get antsy.”

“Hey you two! What’s the outlook from up top?” We both look to see Luci sitting on top of an armored personnel carrier that’s rolling down the highway, with Sierra and Commander Dussel in the driver and shotgun seat. Behind the APC are a couple of supply vans trailing behind them, with mercs sitting on the tailgates.

“Big. Empty.” I call back as Kiwi and I wait on the side of the road for the caravan to arrive. “No signs the city is inhabited, at least from what we can tell. Whole place is silent as a cemetery.”

“No signs of struggle or damage either.” Kiwi says, reaching out and catching one of the ladder rungs on the side of the APC, climbing up it as it passes by us. “Planned dormancy, just like the old records show.”

“I still don’t trust it.” Dussel says through the rolled-down window as I catch one of the rungs and step up on the APC behind Kiwi. “I’ve seen my fair share of abandoned ruins and ghost towns. Just because everything’s nice and quiet doesn’t mean it’s safe. We’ll keep roaming, but we’ll deploy the scout drones, like we originally planned.”

“You’ve seen one too many horror movies about Dragine temples, Commander.” Sierra scoffs. “We’ll be fine. Even if the Masklings did build in defenses to this place, they’re three thousand years old. If they’re even still working, it’ll be ages behind modern tech.”

“Any defenses will probably be runetech. Might not match up to modern stuff, but it’ll definitely still be working so long as there’s power running to it.” Kiwi says, sitting atop the APC as I pull myself over the edge. Luci scoots over to make some room for me. “But as we saw with the hangars, so long as you’ve got a Maskling with you, it should be fine. It looks like the basic access and security systems still recognize runemarks.”

“If that’s the case, we should’ve brought more of you.” Dussel grunts as the APC starts to pick up speed again. “There’s what, five Masklings with us? You and four of your handlers?”

“Myself, Tarocco, Cahriu, two handlers, and Songbird.” Kiwi says as I sit down beside her. “I’m tangled with him, so some of the systems will recognize the runemarks I gave him.”

“So at most, we’ll only be able to have six parties out at a time.” Dussel grunts. “Hope that’s enough to get done what we need to get done in a timely manner. It’s bad enough that it took us over a month to get out here. I’d rather not stay longer than I have to.”

“You’ll only have to stay as long as it takes to get a Maskling recovery fleet out here.” Kiwi says, leaning forward to speak over the rumble of the APC. “After that, we can take over from there. If it turns out the Cradle has a mass beacon, then all we have to do is activate it, and the recovery fleet can use bridge drives to get here in under a week.”

“Then let’s hope you all can find that quickly.” Dussel says. “Being cooped up on the Accatria was tough, but after seeing how empty this place is, I think I’d rather be on my battlecruiser. This whole place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Liminal space.” Kiwi calls down to him, grinning at me.

“What?” Dussel says, sounding confused.

“It’s a… nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Central Reactor Tower

2/21/12764 10:58am SGT

“So the entire OS is written in this… rune language that your ancestors used.” Legaci says, her hologram folding her arms as she stands in front of the central console at the bottom of the reactor at the city’s center. The reactor tower itself is hollow, the equidistant arms lined with radiation mirrors and sloping down to a massive pit in the floor that leads to… something further down. Containment fields fill the space between the towering, curved arms of the reactor, with the glowing core hovering above it all.

“That’s what we’ve gathered from what we’ve seen so far.” Tarocco says. “Every interface we’ve seen so far is rendered in Maskling runes. They activate in the presence of active runemarks; basic functions anyone can interact with once the console is active, but more advanced functions seem to be restricted to just those with runemarks; ergo, the Masklings and Songbird. Ship-critical functions, like comms, weapons, navigation, power, and drive control are all restricted, even to those with wristmarks. The only way to access those functions, at least that we can tell from the denial messages we’ve seen so far, is through a command key.”

“So you want me to hack this vessel’s systems in order to remove the restrictions, or find a way to get it to issue you a command key.” Legaci infers.

“Without it, we won’t be able to bring the core out of dormancy, which is what we need to do to turn on the Cradle’s mass beacon so the recovery fleet can bridge drive to us.” Kiwi adds. “If we can get the command key, that’ll give us permissions to get the core online and deploy the mass beacon, both of which we’ll need to do if we don’t want to wait another month to get the recovery fleet out here.”

“Okay, okay.” Legaci says slowly, nodding to herself. “This should be… doable. The OS hasn’t had a security patch in three thousand years, so it shouldn’t put up much of a fight when I start poking it. The problem is the language barrier. If this entire OS is coded in runes, I’m going to need to learn the language so I can figure out what the hell I’m even looking at. I don’t suppose you lot brought a rune dictionary with you?”

“Nah, we were just hoping you’d do your Cyber thing and learn it in six hours.” Cahriu says from where he’s leaning against one of the secondary consoles, arms folded. “If we’d known that our ancestors coded the whole thing in Vikterian, we would’ve brought a specialist with us.”

“Isn’t that something you should’ve known, though?” I ask. “If this is the language your people use to speak—”

“We don’t speak Vikterian, Blueberry. At least not like we used to.” Kiwi interrupts. “We don’t even write it most times. Masklings transitioned to galactic common centuries ago as part of a normalization campaign, which itself was a bid for legitimacy within the galactic community of nations. Nowadays we speak galactic common, just like everyone else; Vikterian is what we use for ceremonial stuff, and to manage and direct our magic. It’s a complicated language to learn, and even for Masklings, some of them never learn any Vikterian beyond the basics.”

“Charming.” Legaci says drily. “So I’m going to need to learn a complicated character-based language that’s hard to master even by the standards of those who regularly use it. All in the name of hacking an OS that’s written in said language, so we can get it to produce a command key that will allow us to access this vessel’s critical functions.” She turns and looks at the Masklings. “If your ancestors were looking to make it a pain in the ass to reassume control of this vessel, then they succeeded.”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Cahriu shrugs. “We didn’t want it to be easy for some rando to come along and take control of the arkship that’s supposed to stand between our species and extinction.”

“They could’ve at least made it easier for their descendants to come retrieve it.” Legaci mutters. “And in order for these consoles to stay active, there needs to be a Maskling present, right?”

“That is correct.” Tarocco says. “One of us will have to stay here while you are working on it, or the consoles will lock up again.”

“There’s gotta be something that allows for direct interfacing.” Legaci says, stepping back and looking down at the base of the sleek console. “Can we pry open this console and see what we’re looking at in terms of wiring down here? We can have someone run back to the ship, grab my equipment, and we can see about splicing in a direct connection to the console once I’ve got an idea of what I’m looking at. In the meantime, I’ll need a complete listing of the alphabet for your rune language, and tell the Commander I’m going to need to steal processing power from both the Accatria and Narcusa’s nav computers in order to run analytics on text samples, and try to build a translation program that we can run the OS through in order to make it something readable in—”

“No need to tell me, I’m right here.” We all turn around to see Commander Dussel lumbering through the doors far across the golden-floored room. Ridge, Renchiko, and Sierra are following along behind him. “We’re going to need to set up a relay to get you that kind of high-volume connection to the ships, unless you’re willing to work with a shaky connection.”

“I’d prefer a relay. I’d rather not have the connection dropping and buffering every twenty minutes.” Legaci says, turning back to the console.

“I’ll have the boys get on it.” Dussel says as Ridge and Renchiko start to outpace him on their way over to us.

“Geez. This thing is huge.” Ridge says, his head craned back to take in the reactor and the glowing core far overhead. “It didn’t look that big from a distance.”

“Do we know yet what the core is?” Renchiko asks as she looks at the consoles. “This is the kind of setup you’d expect for a miniaturized star.”

“Kid, none of us know.” Kiwi sighs, sounding exasperated. “Everybody here is mercenaries and spec ops, even the Masklings. Stop asking what the big glowy ball is. Nobody knows.”

“Was just wondering.” Renchiko says defensively.

“I suppose if the kids are here, it means that there’s no active threat and we have a secure lane between the reactor and hangar?” I ask, looking to Dussel as he arrives.

“It means that they’re getting fidgety sitting on the ship, so I brought them out here so you can put them to use before they get into trouble.” Dussel grunts. “Also yes, we have a secure route between here and the hangars. Legaci, can you give me an ETA on how long it’s going to take you to crack that thing?”

“Hard to say, I haven’t even gotten started yet.” Legaci says. “It’ll depend on the complexity of the rune language and what I encounter once I get into the OS and see what I’m looking at. Best case scenario, it’ll take me less than a day. More realistically, it might take me three or four days, maybe five. If I run into unexpected complications, could take a week or more to crack it.”

“We’ll plan for the latter end of the realistic scenario, then.” Dussel says. “Keep us apprised of your progress as it proceeds. I’ll tell the boys to dig out one of the relays and set it up at the route’s halfway point. Songbird, this city looks like it’s pretty much abandoned and no localized defenses, so it should be safe enough to put your pups to work. Keep them busy enough that they won’t get into trouble. The engineers caught the girl snooping around the fusion core on the Accatria.”

“I just wanted to see what kind of reactor was powering the ship.” Renchiko says, shrugging aggressively.

“There’s a difference between seeing with your eyes and seeing with your hands, and you were doing the latter.” Dussel says, then gives me a drilling look. “Keep them out of trouble.” With that, he turns and starts lumbering back to the doors.

“Told you you should’ve stayed in your room.” Ridge mutters.

“Hey at least I’m getting out and doing stuff, instead of staring at my phone all day.” Renchiko snaps back at him.

“Children.” I say, cutting in before it can continue. “Dussel’s right. We’ll go ahead and put you to work so that you’re not lazing around or getting into trouble. Renchiko, since you’re so interested in the core, you can stay here and help Legaci with decoding the rune OS. Ridge, a little bit of exposure to Maskling culture will do you good, so you can come with me as we’re doing checkins on other sites around the city.”

“Already regretting my decision to leave the ship.” Ridge groans.

“Actually, let’s send the little man with the big man.” Kiwi says, pushing away from the console she was toying with, snagging the hood of my longcoat as she walks by me. “They can man it up, and you can come with me.”

“Aw c’mon, Kiwi.” Cahriu whines. “That’s just doin’ me dirty. Putting me on babysitting duty while you run off for a date with your boy toy?”

Kiwi just grins at him as she drags me along towards the doors. “It’s not a date, it’s work. Besides, buddy system is the first rule of exploring ancient ruins.”

“Man!” Cahriu complains, motioning a hand after us. “Tarocco! You ain’t gonna do anything about that?”

“I’m not dumb enough to try and crowbar Kiwi away from her handler, Cahriu.” Tarocco says, pulling up an incomplete map of the city that’s slowly being filled out by the mapping drones that we’d deployed once we’d arrived here. “Kiwi, slow your roll. You don’t even know where you’re going. At least let me give you a couple locations first.”

“Ain’t no slowing this roll, ‘cause it’s slathered in butter and goin’ places!” Kiwi scoffs. “Text me the locations, we’ll figure it out on the way there.”

“I’m guessing I don’t get a say in this?” I ask, still being dragged along.

“Keep her under control, Songbird.” Tarocco calls without looking up from the map.

“Sheesh man, whatever. Snog her good for me, blues clues!” Cahriu adds, before turning to Ridge. “Alright kid, what’s your name again?”

“Am I the only one that feels like that was a little bit weird?” I call back to them as Kiwi kicks the doors open.

“Yeah no, that was weird.” Renchiko calls back.

“So weird.” Ridge adds, glaring at Cahriu. “We’ve been on the same ship for a month now! How do you still not know my name?”

“I’m surrounded by perverts and idiots.” Legaci sighs, massaging her forehead. “Alright, Renchiko. I’m gonna need you to be my hands, since mine are holographic right now…”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Sector 2 Undercity

2/22/12764 4:53pm SGT

“You know, if you don’t feel comfortable here, you can stay on the ship.” I say as the panel that I’m standing on slows down. Standing beside me are Midnatt and Sol, one on each side, quite literally pressed against me. I’m not entirely surprised; Viralix are Halfies, and Halfies are different than humans as far as instincts and personal space go. But the fact that they’re practically leaning against me means that they’re ill at ease, and for some reason they consider me, and my personal bubble, as their safe zone.

“No, we were tasked with monitoring and bearing witness. So we must come with you.” Midnatt say, echoes of his thoughts overlapping with his voice.

“If you are worried, we will keep you safe.” Sol adds. “I am a capable combatant, and Midnatt has some combat training as well.”

I have to fight to swallow a smile. “Oh, you two will keep me safe?” I ask as the panel reaches the floor we were headed to underneath the research facility I’d been tasked with checking out. “Well, I’m glad to have the backup.”

“Besides, we are familiar with superstructures such as these.” Midnatt adds, following close to my side as I step off the panel. “The Masklings stole the starcity concept from our people. Their version is much smaller and less impressive, though.”

I raise an eyebrow as I walk down the hall, which is soft-hued and lit only by auxiliary lights. “Small? The Cradle’s twenty miles across at its widest. It’s huge; you could fit an entire fleet into the airspace between the city and the dome.”

“Yes. That is small, compared to the Empire’s starcities.” Sol says, watching the frosted glass doors as we pass them. “Most of our starcities are twice the size of this one.”

“Jeez. I knew they were big; I didn’t know they were that big.” I say, glancing down at them again. Both of them are wreathed in their black cloaks, hoods drawn up over their heads and ears poking through the gaps in their hoods. Even counting in their ears, they barely reach my shoulders. “You say the Masklings stole the idea of a starcity from the Viralix?”

“Yes. They could not have come up with something like this on their own, and it is well known that Masklings acquire the knowledge and skills of their hosts. In order to build this superstructure, they must’ve Masked a Viralix architect or engineer who had intimate knowledge of starcity design. In fact, they probably Masked many, and used the stolen knowledge to piece together their own version of a starcity.” Midnatt says. “They are incapable of creating their own things. They simply steal from other races.”

“Well, I’m sure they do steal intel and knowledge from other races, but that doesn’t mean they can’t create their own things.” I equivocate. “Besides, I hear this vessel was created three thousand years ago. It was a different time back then, and I’m sure they’ve changed for the better since then.”

“It nonetheless represents the theft of knowledge and inspiration from the Viralix.” Midnatt says. “It is a monument to their sin, not something to be celebrated or admired.”

“You must excuse him. His elder brother is thought to have fallen victim to the Masklings.” Sol explains quickly. “His animosity for them is founded in loss.”

I’m quiet for a bit as I process that, considering how to respond. “I understand. I have also lost people in the struggle between nations and ideals. More than I care to count.” I slow down as we reach the frosted door at the end of the hall. “I will say, however, that carrying hate is a heavy burden. I know it from experience. Forgiveness, though difficult, is a mercy not just to others, but to yourself as well.”

“It is not in the nature of the Viralix to forgive.” Midnatt’s echoing words come with a swelling of emotion, flickers of memories. Generations of grievance, of being driven out and ostracized for what they were, until they could endure no more. “But I will take your counsel into consideration. You are remarkably staid for someone who has borne the scorn of the galaxy. I reason that you must therefore have some experience, and therefore wisdom, that I do not possess.”

“Wisdom is the bitter fruit we reap from a harvest of errors, of which I have plenty.” I say, raising my runemarked wrist to the door. “It’s a heavy gift that I would not wish upon anyone.”

“Perhaps you view the Masklings more favorably because of your romance with one of their Knights.” Sol suggests as the frosted door turns clear, becoming a thin, transparent membrane.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it a romance…” I say, reaching up and touching the membrane carefully. This isn’t like any of the other doors we’ve come across so far; most of the other ones were simple pull-and-push, hinged affairs. This one felt more like some sort of tenuous energy barrier, at least in its open state. “We’re just… y’know…”

“You like her. We can sense it. You radiate a certain fondness when you spend time with her.” Midnatt says, reaching out to tentatively touch the energy membrane as well. “Curious. This is an archaic phased-matter barrier. Occupies a solid state while inactive, changes to an energy state when active. Not very good for security, though. The solid state is not usually very durable and can be broken if sufficient force is applied.”

“Wait, have you guys been spying on me?” I demand, carefully stepping through the membrane to no ill effect.

“We’ve sensed it in passing.” Sol says quickly, padding through behind me. “Not spying. Midnatt, why do you say this phased-matter barrier is curious?”

“Precisely for the reasons I stated.” Midnatt says, quickly latching onto the topic redirection and running with it as he passes through with us. “Phased-matter barriers are not good for securing something; they are typically ceremonial in nature, prioritize form over function. Fancy embellishments with much higher power requirements than a standard door.”

“That is a bit strange for a scientific facility.” I agree as the barrier frosts over behind us, turning solid once more. The hall we’re in is narrower than before, and leads down to what appears to be a hub. It’s also much colder in here than it was in the previous hall. “Is there an environmental utility? Can they hold in atmosphere?”

“Oh, that’s a good point. They can. Even in their ‘open’ state, they prevent air from leaving a room unless the pressure differential on either side of the barrier is too strong.” Midnatt says, perking up as he traces his padded fingers along what appear to be tubes or pipes running along the walls. “This then makes sense for a lab that needs to consistently operate at lower temperatures. Still, one does not see this solution employed in very many labs.”

“Whatever was in here must’ve been important, then.” I say as we reach the hub at the center. There’s a single round console in the center, with several halls leading off from the hub itself, like the the spokes of a wheel. Except for the hall that we came down, each of the spokes appear to be lined with pods of some sort. “This looks almost like…”

“Stasis chambers.” Sol murmurs. “But why are there so many? There is no need for this sort of volume on a vessel which has FTL capacity. Are there other facilities like this across the sector?”

“Not sure.” I say, glancing back at the console. “I’m not familiar with the city layout. But Kiwi has said that each of the sectors are more or less copies of each other, so there are least five other hubs like this. More, if there’s more than a single hub within a sector.”

“Stasis chambers are a thing of the past. They are relics of the era of sublight interstellar travel.” Midnatt says, tilting forward down one of the halls, studying the pale curves of each pod. “I do not know why the Masklings would’ve needed so many.”

“If the architects planned them in, and the builders built them, it means that they intended for them to be used.” I say, placing my runemarked hand to the console. Both the console and the runemarks flare to life, but the holoarray above the console gives me a locked symbol along with more runes beneath it, which I take to mean as some form of access denied. “Perhaps they were intended for a backup crew? So the ship could be ready to roll the moment it was brought out of dormancy?”

“That cannot be.” Sol says, wandering down another one of the spokes. “To keep so many in stasis, all in the name of having a crew ready hundreds, thousands of years later? They would wake up in a time they were not familiar with, far removed from the galaxy they knew, and most of the people they knew during their lives dead and gone. That kind of sacrifice is tremendous. It is incomprehensible that they would ask so many to make it.”

“Especially after three thousand years.” I say, staring around the other spokes of the wheel. “Things would’ve changed so much in that time. Can stasis chambers even keep people alive for that long?”

“I doubt that even the best stasis technology on the market could guarantee that.” Midnatt says, using a pawhand to wipe away the frost on the glass surface of one of the chambers. “But this… what did the Masklings call it? Runetech? Magic mixed with technology… it is less susceptible to mechanical failure simply because it relies less on mechanical engineering. Insofar as I can tell, these pods appear intact and still functioning, and their occupants seem in good health.” After staring at the pod he wiped clean, he moves to the next one, wiping the glass of that one as well. “And the occupants, near as I can tell, appear to be human.”

“They are human on your row?” Sol calls. “The ones on my row are all Halfies.”

I furrow my brow at that. Turning and heading down one of the spokes, I grab the cuff of my longcoat’s sleeve and wipe at the glass of the first chamber I come across. Within is a naked male humanoid, seeming asleep within the chamber; I almost mistake them for human until I see the pointed ears. Moving to the next chamber over, I wipe that one clean to find a woman, again with pointed ears. “There’s elves down this hall.”

“These spokes are divided by species.” Sol concludes, coming back to the hub. “But that makes no sense. Why would you need to divide crew by their species?”

“Because they are not crew.” I can feel the dawning dread and consternation in Midnatt’s echos as he returns to the hub as well, his luminous blue irises fixing on us. “This is a Maskling vessel. These people are not crew — they are spare Maskbearers.”

With that, it all becomes chilling clear, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder at the hall of elves behind me. “I’ve never heard of them doing it this way. They don’t keep Maskbearers on reserve like this, not like…”

“Like products on a shelf?” Midnatt demands. “This isn’t a crew; this is an army waiting to be woken and given to whatever Masks don’t have Maskbearers right now. They have at least three species to choose from, very likely more, given there are four other halls in this hub.”

“It was a different time.”

All three of us turn to see Tarocco emerging from the hall that connects the hub to the rest of the facility. Her hoodie is zipped up against the cold, and there’s a vaguely disgruntled look on her face as she steps into the hub and looks around. “You weren’t supposed to be sent to do this checkup, but leave it to Cahriu to be brainless while handing out assignments.”

“When did you plan on telling us there was an army of Maskbearers here?” Midnatt demands. “Were you hoping it would simply be overlooked? Do the Dussel mercenaries even know what they were helping you reclaim?”

“It’s not an army.” Tarocco replies calmly, coming over to the console and setting both hands on it while her wristmarks glow with orange light. “These are vessels, held in reserve for Masks that don’t have Maskbearers. Once upon a time, they may have been reserved for the survivors and the last remnants of our race, but nowadays, they can be used for those of our people which still lack a Maskbearer. Some are military, but many of them are civilian.” On the holoarray, the lock symbol dissolves as it reads both of Tarocco’s wristmarks. “This whole setup isn’t the way we do things nowadays. We don’t store potential Maskbearers in stasis for a later date. And reclaiming the Cradle doesn’t represent a continuation of that practice; just a vestige of it.”

“You didn’t answer the question of whether the Dussel mercenaries knew.” Sol presses, her luminous green eyes narrowed beneath her hood.

“The Dussel mercs didn’t need to know.” Tarocco answers, swiping through the screens that have sprung up on the holoarray. “And we were not obligated to tell them. What Masklings do with their cultural relics is not the business of other nations or corporate entities.”

“It is when we’re the ones helping enable it.” I speak up at this point. “Did Kiwi know?”

Tarocco pauses. Her blue eyes flick to me, and for a moment, I can see her lips moving to form the reply — then hesitate, as if reconsidering it. “Why don’t you go ask her?” she answers after a moment. “I’m not going to pretend I speak for her.”

I snort at that. “Ah. Yeah. Very clever. Tell me to go ask her myself so you can get us out of here.”

“I was actually recommending that because I’m smarter than getting into the middle of a potential spat between Kiwi and her handler.” Tarocco responds loftily, going back to checking through the holoarray screens. “But you make a good point. I will politely ask all three of you to leave now. This is not an area we would normally allow visitors into.”

“We will not—” Midnatt begins.

“Fine. We’ll leave.” I interrupt before he can finish. When both of the Viralix look at me, I give a shrug. “This place is clearly important to their culture. How would the Viralix feel if outsiders entered one of their psicrysts and refused to leave?”

Sol exhales, and looks at Midnatt. “He has a point.”

Midnatt glares, but starts moving towards the entry hall. “Very well. We will leave you to your devices. Just remember that you are in Viralix space. It would not take one of our defense fleets very long to arrive if we called for help.”

“Please. We’re not Venusians.” Tarocco says as Sol and I start to head after Midnatt. “We’re not stupid enough to pick a fight with a race that isn’t bothering us.”

I’m the last one out of the hub, and I stop in the hall. After a moment, I turn halfway, looking back over my shoulder. “Tarocco? Is there anything else she’s hiding from me?”

Tarocco pauses, then turns to look at me. “I already told you, Songbird. I’m not gonna get between you and her.”

“Fair enough.” I say, starting to walk again.

“I will say, though…” Tarocco goes on. “…that Feather is… I mean, Kiwi… has never cared much for keeping classified information. She’s quite bad at it, actually. If you ask her something about our people, she will usually be truthful with you… even if we don’t want her to be. But that’s only for our people in the general sense. Whether or not she tells you the truth about herself… that’s up to her.”

I take a moment to absorb that, then nod. “Noted. Thank you, Tarocco.”

“You’re welcome. And if you could avoid mentioning this to Commander, I would appreciate it.” Tarocco says, turning back to the console. “I’d rather not freak everyone out with the news that there’s hundreds of slumbering Maskbearers under their feet.”

“I can’t do that.” I apologize. “Dussel’s the Commander; he has a right to know, since he’s the one risking his manpower and machinery for this expedition. But if you want, I’ll let you tell him instead, so you can control how he receives that information.”

Tarocco purses her lips. “Fair enough. I’ll be up to join you shortly.”

I nod again, and start walking again, catching up to the Viralix. We’re all silent on the way back up to the surface, lost in our own thoughts, and processing what we just saw.

Wondering, perhaps, what other secrets of the Masklings were hiding in the Cradle.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Cradle: Central Reactor Tower

2/23/12764 2:35pm SGT

“I hadn’t thought it’d be like this.”

I glance to the side. Renchiko’s leaning on the railing of the platform that we’re on, staring out across the Cradle. The platform itself acts as an elevator, and we’re slowly rising along the side of the tower to the base of the reactor itself. “Talking about the expedition?” I ask.

“No, just… all of this.” she says, sweeping her black bangs out of her eyes. “Thought there’d be a lot more fighting, and… stuff. Car chases, narrow escapes, that sort of thing. And we have had that stuff, I guess, but I hadn’t ever thought about all the stuff that comes between it.”

“Yeah.” I say, looking back out across the city. “Nobody ever really thinks about that stuff. The rest of the galaxy doesn’t think about it, I suppose. They only ever see the exciting parts on the news, and in the holos and shows they watch, timeskips are used generously. It gives this… incomplete idea of what the Challenger life is really like.”

“I think I’m okay with that. If it was action all the time, I think it’d wear me out.” Renchiko says, fingers tapping along the railing. “So… what do we do after this?”

“After this?” I repeat, tucking my hands in my pockets. “We see about reclaiming one of the Bastions, get settled in… and find more people to help, I guess. That’s the whole point of all this, isn’t it?”

She takes a moment to consider that. “Yeah, I guess it is. I just… I just didn’t expect…”

“It would look like this?” I guess. “Helping people comes in a lot of shapes and sizes. You hear the most about the fighting, because that’s big and dynamic and exciting. But you can help people in other ways, too. Challengers assisted in a lot of evacuation and rescue operations for natural disasters. And sometimes we served as mediators or negotiators for two sides in a conflict. Yeah, a lot of it was running around and smacking bad guys, but a lot of it was also stuff like this.” I motion out to the Cradle’s cityscape. “Helping people with the things that mattered to them. That’s just as good as smacking a bad guy.”

“Not as exciting, though.” Renchiko points out frankly.

I give a melancholy smile at that. “When you get older, you’ll find that excitement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

She wrinkles her nose at that. “You act so old sometimes.”

“Well, I am forty-three, even if I don’t look it.”

“Yeah, but Sierra’s like. Hundreds… thousands of years old? And she acts younger than you do.” Renchiko points out.

I chuckle at that. “Was that supposed to be an insult? Because it definitely doesn’t feel like one.”

She blows a raspberry at me. “Whatever.” She rocks a bit on the soles of her boots, then bursts into a sudden question. “Why are you dating the Maskling?”

That catches me off guard. “Is there a reason you’re asking?” I ask in return.

Renchiko presses her lips together, then looks at me. “…you know what they are, right? You know what they’ve done. What they still do sometimes. They’re like the Collective.”

It takes me a moment to figure out how to answer. “They’re improving. Getting better. They’re not perfect, but no one is. Besides, no one chooses the race they’re born to. And is it right to ask individuals to answer for the sins of their society?” As the platform starts to slow down, I turn from the railing. “I’m a vampire, Renchiko. Should I have to answer for the bad things that every other vampire across the galaxy has done? Do the sins of other vampires make me a bad person, even if I had nothing to do with them?”

She huffs out a breath, turning as well. “I guess not. It’s just… it’s hard to ignore everything that their people have done.”

“Societies and civilizations should have to answer for the things they’ve done. I’m not saying that the Masklings have done no wrong.” I say, walking across the platform. “But I’m not dating the entire Maskling race; I’m dating Kiwi. And I’m not dating her because she’s a Maskling; I’m dating her because she’s Kiwi. Because she’s fun, and silly, and exciting sometimes, and… she makes me feel good. It’s easier to explore and try new things when I’m around her.”

“Yeah…” Renchiko concedes, following me across the platform and onto the wide, open shelf ringing the reactor structure. “Suppose I can’t really blame her for everything her people have done.”

“I’m not saying she’s perfect.” I add. “She’s rash, she makes mistakes. She’s prideful and doesn’t like to admit when she’s wrong. But I still like her because there is good in her.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Renchiko says as we reach the doors to the reactor. “You make friends with all the weirdest types anyway. Why do the Viralix keep following you around?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s because of my radiant personality?” I ask, pushing through the doors.

“No. I’ve seen the way you are; you try to do the wallflower thing most times.”

“Well, you can’t exactly blame me for wanting to fade into the background after the stuff I’ve been through.” I say, starting to cross the wide floor to the reactor consoles. “Alright guys, sorry to keep you waiting. You can start the party now.”

“Too late, party’s already started.” Sierra calls past a mouthful of citrus. She’s sitting in a collapsible camp chair, orange peels in her lap and Luci sitting on the floor beside her, his head tilted back as he snaps his teeth at the orange slice she’s dangling over him. “Y’all didn’t happen to see the Commander on the way up, did you?”

“Can’t say I did.” I say as Renchiko peels off, heading to the main console to rejoin Legaci. “I’m sure he’ll make his way over shortly, considering how big this is.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Sierra says, dropping the orange slice in Luci’s mouth before calling over her shoulder. “Hey clickbait, how long on the command key?”

“Eat my holographic ass, Lieutenant.” Legaci replies without looking from the console she’s at.

“Oh damn, is that an offer?” Sierra grins. “ ‘Cause I’ll take that up in a heartbea—”

“Setting aside Sierra’s ceaseless lechery, it should only be five or ten minutes more before we have the command key ready.” Valkyrie says from the console she’s standing at. “Legaci has done some stellar work in creating a program to translate the Cradle’s primary OS, and I imagine it can be easily applied to other systems as well, if the recovery team would be interested in using it.”

“That would be… much appreciated.” Tarocco says distractedly, flicking through one of the holoarrays. “Most of our people nowadays read galactic common more fluently than we do Vikterian. I’ve gotten better at it over the past few days, but it’s a bit of an inconvenience, even for those of us that were born into the culture.”

I slow up a little as the Viralix notice I’ve arrived, and they both leave the console they were hovering around, padding up to me. “We are to understand it is the intent of the Masklings to bridge in a fleet once command of this vessel is acquired.” Midnatt says.

“It is, yes.” I nod. “Is that okay with you?”

“We do not mind, but the unannounced arrival of a fleet of ships within Viralix space would be a cause for concern, as far as the territorial defense fleets are concerned.” Sol explains. “Before you activate the mass beacon, we would first ask that you allow us to access the comms and contact the Territorial Defense Command and the Vorcrueshen Travel Authority to explain the situation to them, and request permission for the recovery fleet to be present within Viralix space.”

I consider that, then shrug. “Seems reasonable enough. Have you asked the Commander yet?”

“Our understanding is that Commander Dussel has only nominal command over the Masklings here.” Midnatt explains. “We reasoned that your romantic entanglement with one of the Masklings would make them more receptive to our request, if it was coming from you.”

I hear a snort of laughter from Cahriu, and ignore it. “Fair enough.” I nod. “I’ll ask them if they can hold off on activating the mass beacon until we’ve gotten on the same page as the Viralix. We wouldn’t want them to think they were being invaded and send an armada.”

“Oh, they’ll still send a patrol fleet. Maybe two.” Sol says quickly. “We can say with certainty that they will insist on supervising the entire operation, and on escorting the recovery fleet to the edge of Viralix territory to ensure their departure. But communicating the Masklings’ intent here will prevent a harsher response than would be expected if the recovery fleet showed up unannounced.”

I nod, absorbing that. “Alright, that may involve a little more friction, but I understand where they’re coming from. We’re already on thin ice with how we snuck into the Abyss in the first place. I can trust you to emphasize the strictly non-violent purpose of the recovery fleet, right?”

“We will let them know that it is for the recovery of a conservational and cultural artifact, though I still have my reservations about the purpose of this vessel, given what I now know of its functions.” Midnatt says, his ears lowering slightly. “The army of Maskbearers beneath the city, and the fact that portions of the structure can detach and be deployed planetside, leads me to believe that this vessel could just as easily be used as a tool of conquest, rather than colonization.”

“You’ll forgive my amusement.” Tarocco says drily, looking up briefly from her console. “The Maskling Republic doesn’t exactly have the population required for conquest. We can’t afford to mindlessly send our soldiers into the meat grinder of war, at least not the way that the Collective and the Venusians do.”

“The fact remains that the potential utility is there.” Midnatt says. “But we will apprise our people of the point you have made when we communicate with them.”

“Sounds good, then.” I say. “We’ll make that a priority once the command key is printed.” Moving around them, I close in next on Cahriu and Ridge, who are sparring in the open area beyond one of the consoles. “You two look like you’ve hit it off better than I expected.”

“Turns out you’ve taught him pretty good in Jai Te.” Cahriu says, dropping his stance so he can reach out and ruffle Ridge’s hair. “He’s got some moves. I figured I’d show him some street style, so he can mix it up when he needs to.”

“I like street style. It’s more to the point.” Ridge grins, ducking his head away from Cahriu’s hand. “Can you keep teaching me?”

Cahriu shrugs. “If I got the time, and if your big brother doesn’t mind.”

Ridge looks to me, and I shrug. “You know the deal. Keep your grades up, and you can do the fun stuff.”

He groans, swinging his arms around. “I’ll be glad when I’m finally done with my general education. It’s keeping me from learning all the useful stuff.”

“Everything has its purpose. Just because you don’t enjoy math, history, or language doesn’t mean it isn’t useful.” I say, starting to walk again, and give Cahriu a warning look. “I’m trying to raise a contributing member of society. Don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

“Me? I’m a model citizen!” Cahriu scoffs. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“If I find you’re passing on bad habits to my dependent, I’m gonna model my knee back into your ribcage again.” I caution him, starting to walk again.

“Alright, alright, blues clues. I get it.” Cahriu says, waving a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him on the straight and narrow. Just make sure to loosen up and let him have fun every now and then, y’know? You only get one childhood.”

“You’ll forgive me for questioning the kind of example you’ll set for him, given the whole thing with Kiwi.” I point out.

Cahriu smirks at that, hitching his hands on his hips. “All’s fair in in love and war, Songbird. Besides, you eventually won that one, didn’t you? I ain’t gonna grudge you that.”

I snort at that. “Pretty sure you backed off to save your own hide from her, not because I clobbered some sense into you.”

“Fair ‘nuff. Point is, she’s all yours. Or you’re all hers. Whatever way you choose to look at it.” he says, waving me off as he turns back to Ridge.

I keep walking, the sound of their conversation fading behind me as I walk over to the pit in the center of the reactor, where Kiwi is leaning on the railing, staring down into it. She glances at me once I arrive beside her, smirking a little.

“I’m guessing you heard some of that.” I mutter, reaching into my longcoat for my flask.

“A little bit.” she chirps primly, looking back down into the pit. “So, which one is it?”

“Which one is what?”

“Am I all yours? Or are you all mine?”

I unscrew the lid of my flask, thinking that over. “I’m predisposed towards possessiveness, but I try to keep it in check. I understand that it’s not exactly healthy in a relationship.”

She snorts at that. “So you overcompensate in the other direction and refuse to assert yourself, to the point of letting other people walk over you.”

I stare into my pocket flask, trying to think of what to say in response to that. Nothing is coming to mind… well, plenty is coming to mind, but all of it sounds naïve or moralizing or chauvinistic. All of it cringeworthy in its own right. “Just trying to avoid being a jerk.” is all I mumble in the end, taking a sip from my flask immediately after.

Kiwi puffs a breath that briefly flips some of her locks away from her eyes. “I’m gonna have to tell you to chase me, aren’t I?” she sighs. “You’re so scared of doing something wrong that you’re going to keep playing it safe unless I tell you not to.”

“Accurate.” I mutter into my flask.

“Figures.” she says, pushing off the railing and reaching to snatch my pocket flask away from me. “Chase me. I want to be wanted, Blueberry. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you. But I like having someone that’s willing to chase me. Someone that gets a little territorial over me.”

“Is that so.” I say, raising out an eyebrow as I hold out a hand for my flask.

“Nice try. You want this back, you’ll have to come take it from me.” she says, backing away from me with flask in hand. “It’ll be your first lesson in standing up for yourself and not letting other people walk all over you.” With that, she swings it to her mouth to take a swig.

“Wait! That’s my…” I say, lurching forward and then wincing when I don’t get to her in time. “…blood flask…”

Kiwi seems to quickly realize it as well, her face screwing up when she realizes what she just got a mouthful of. She jerks the flask away from her lips, one eye squeezed shut as she lets out a closed-mouth groan; for a moment I think she’s about to turn and spit it all out, but I can see her work her jaw around, then swallow hard, stumbling back to me and shoving the flask against my chest, her free hand searching the inside of my longcoat. “Uurrgh. Oh god. I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Where’s your other flask.”

I chuckle a little, taking my blood flask back and screwing the lid back on as she finds my fizzwater flask and yanks it out. “I’ll give you points for creativity. That would’ve been a picture-perfect flirt if you’d grabbed the right flask.”

She just grunts, rushing to get the cap screwed off my fizzwater flask. The moment she does, she takes a big swig, swishing it around like mouthwash, then turns and spits it over the railing and into the pit. “Ugh. I don’t get how you can stand drinking that stuff.” she says, before proceeding to throw back the flask again, taking a deep gulp of my fizzwater.

“It’s an acquired taste.” I say, tucking my blood flask away. “You get used to it after eighteen years.”

Kiwi pulls a deep breath after swallowing her current mouthful of fizzwater. “Guh. I can’t imagine. Thank the gods you keep your fizzwater on you; the carbonation’s pretty good at scrubbing the taste of blood off your tongue.” She pauses to peer into the flask. “What was this flavor again? Cherry and lemon? It’s pretty good.”

“Custom mix. Eighty on the cherry, twenty on the lemon. I had it often enough that the barkeep at the Sunthorn Bastion added it to the menu as a regular drink and called it cherry passion.” I explain, holding a hand out for my other flask.

“Neat.” Kiwi says, throwing it back and and chugging the rest of it.

“Really?” I ask, giving her a flat look as she drains the flask.

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want some of this?” she asks, grinning mischievously as she hands back the empty flask. “All out. I’ve got a little bit left…” She leans in a little, tapping her lips as she does so. “…right here, if you want a taste.”

I take my flask back, hesitating at the invitation. For a moment I’m stricken with the whispers of my Anayan upbringing, about being modest and chaste and setting an example for others. Of deflecting on reflex whenever someone tried to flirt with me.

Then I decide I don’t care, and I want to enjoy what I have with someone I care about. I want to play her games, and have fun, and see what I can learn from her. And if Anaya wants to send me to hell for that, well… might as well, since the orthodoxy thinks I’m going to hell anyway for being a vampire.

“Think I’ll take you up on that.” I say, leaning in to give her a kiss. She grins and closes her eyes, bouncing up on her toes a little—

“Alright, you miscreants. Gather round.” Legaci calls. “The command key is printing now. We’re finally about to reach the last stage of this sorry ordeal.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” I grumble.

Kiwi chuckles, grabbing my hand and pulling me back towards the consoles. “C’mon, there’ll be time for facemashing later.”

“Facemashing. You certainly have a way with words.”

“You know you love it.”

As we rejoin the others around the consoles, Cahriu folds his arms. “So this is going to let us access everything we’ve been locked out of so far?”

“Yeah. Comms, power, navigation, weapons, all that.” Renchiko says, watching what looks like a little green crystal prism that's slowly extruding from the main console. “Legaci could hack and access those functions if she wanted to, but she wanted to do this the right way.”

“I actually just hacked and accessed administrative functions because it was easier that way.” Legaci says, folding her arms. “Easier to do that than having to force my way into each individual system.”

“So that’s it?” Ridge says, motioning to the green prism. “I was kinda expecting… more.”

“Little things can make a big difference.” Kiwi says, making her way over to the console as the key finishes printing, hovering in the air above the slot. Reaching out and taking it, she holds it up to the light of the core overhead. “Like the Challenger backup archive. It was about the same size as this.”

“Coming full circle, then.” The sound of Dussel’s voice is overlaid with the clomping of heavy boots over the floor, and I turn to see him stepping through the doors of the reactor tower, fully kitted out in his old suit of Venusian power armor. “Big fights over something small was how this all began, wasn’t it?”

Sierra looks around, as do the others. “Commander! About damn time, you almost missed the big moment. What’s with the armor? Didn’t find an active defense system out there, did you?”

“Not quite.” Dussel says, lifting an armored hand back towards the door and motioning it forward. The doors slam open, and people come spilling through, each of them in partial power armor, tinted a familiar shade of white, each one carrying rifles…

CURSE operatives.

My hand goes inside my longcoat on reflex, reaching for my stunner. Shouts freeze me in place, though; I’m not the only one that’s reacted, and the operatives are raising their rifles as the Masklings light up their runemarks. If I had a pulse, it’d be rising, and I’m ready to fight my way through this just like the others are — until I realize that among those others are Ridge and Renchiko.

And I couldn’t let them get caught in the crossfire.

I shift backwards, grabbing Renchiko and pulling her behind me as operatives keep spilling through the doors. They’re starting to circle around, cutting off our avenues into other parts of the reactor tower. And just when it seems like the flow of operatives has stopped, I can hear the thump of metal boots over the floor — a gait that I haven’t heard for months, yet instantly recognize in spite of how long it’s been. Despite knowing what’s coming, I still can’t quite believe it until I see Axiom step through the door, followed by a smattering of Peacekeepers, some of whom I’ve fought over the months. They fan out as they come to a stop beside Dussel, flanking him on either side, and in a single, stomach-dropping moment, the truth crystallizes before me.

We’ve been betrayed.