Valiant

[Valiant #18: A Kinky Krysmis]

Log Date: 12/25/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Kiwi

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Challenger Valiant: Feroce’s Room

4:36pm SGT

A little plush mountain jay, green feathers tipped in red.

Dozens of books of sheet music, most of it for the piano.

A 3-d star-shaped puzzle paperweight made of carved wooden blocks.

Heavy duty snow boots, barely used.

Half a dozen empty sketchbooks.

Sitting on my knees on my room, with the evening light coming in through the balcony window, I stare at the unpacked boxes in front of me. There’s only four of them, and their contents could barely cover a small space on the floor. Outside of my clothes, all of which fit into my two suitcases with room to spare, this was the entirety of my mortal possessions. Two suitcases and four boxes.

As property went, it wasn’t a lot.

I couldn’t help thinking of the big moving vans that my parents rented every time they moved house. And everything I had to help them with when they moved. Chairs, tables, paintings, furniture, fridges, washing machines, kitchen appliances, beds, mattresses, toolboxes, and boxes upon boxes upon boxes of personal belongings… it had always been so much. Literal tons of property. Often it’d take multiple trips, spaced out over two or three days, to get everything from one house to the next.

Yet here I am, two suitcases and four medium-sized storage boxes. An entire life that could fit in the backseat and trunk of a small car.

It makes me feel small, realizing that this was all I owned. If I died and all of this was lost or thrown away, there’d be no trace I ever existed. It would be easy to chuck all this in the trash and make it disappear. It took days to move all my parents’ belongings, but it’d only take fifteen minutes to wipe away any physical mementos of me.

But that was the life of a Challenger. Always on the move, always on the next mission, never in one place long enough to collect things. Even after the program was shuttered, I kept living as if I was ready to get up and disappear in a night. Only taking the things that mattered the most to me, and leaving behind or throwing away everything else.

“Feroce?”

I look up. Standing in the doorway is Renchiko, a set of welding goggles hanging crooked around her neck. She’s in oil-stained jeans and a t-shirt, hands shoved awkwardly in her pockets. I look at the maze of belongings I was trying to organize, then start putting some of it away.

“Hey, Little Sis.” I say. “Did you need something?”

“They’re doing Krysmis dinner in the main building, if you want.” she says, her eyes wandering over my meager belongings. “Doin’ some housecleaning?”

“Something like that.” I say, trying to figure out the best way to stack my sheet music back into one of the boxes. “I’m not much for big gatherings like that. I like to keep my head down.”

“Well, uh. The Masklings are there.” Renchiko says, scratching at one of her lean, scrawny arms. “They’re having a good time. The one with the green hair, I think she’s called Kiwi? She was asking where you were.”

I pause at that, then look at her. “You mean she told you to come up here and drag me over to the research building.”

Renchiko looks away and shrugs. “I mean, I figured you might not want to…”

“It’s fine.” I say, smiling a little as I study the mountain jay plush I keep among my prized possessions. The green-red gradient on the wings reminds me of Kiwi’s leaf-hued hair and wildfire eyes. “I’d expect it, coming from her. She’s not drunk, is she?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Renchiko says, then wrinkles her nose. “…maybe. She might’ve been on her way there when I left. I think someone spiked the eggnog, so…”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, celebrating Krysmis with a bunch of mercs.” I say, giving up on putting my things away. It would just have to wait for later. Getting to my feet, I grab my pink hoodie off my bed and pull it on. “I’m not much of a socializing guy, but I’ll be a sport and show up. Hang around for as long as I can stand it.”

“Well, you would’ve had to show up anyway. I think they’re going to do presents when the sun goes down, and Ridge is excited about what he got for you.” Renchiko points out as she backs out of my room, staring at my hoodie. “Why do you wear that?”

I follow her out, tucking my hands in the pockets. “I like making a statement. Standing out from the crowd. Besides, pink is a cool color.”

There’s doubt written all over her face. “I don’t mind the pink, but with your blue hair, you look like a walking cotton candy stick.”

“A cotton candy stick that can kick ass and take names.” I say, following her down the hall. “You been working on the outpost’s drones?”

“Salvaging them, mostly. Most of them have been out of commission for ten years, at least.” she replies as we head down the stairs. “I’ve been taking them apart and separating it into stuff that can and can’t be repaired. We can probably sell the stuff that can’t be repaired to a scrapper so it can be melted down. I don’t think we’re going to be able to repair any of the damaged drones; we’d need to order parts and the Lieutenant says we’re locked out of the market because the mercforce is blacklisted right now. Plus it wouldn’t fit in the budget.”

“If we did have the money, we could always get parts from the grey market. Would be harder, but doable.” I say as we reach the common room in the residential building that’s off to the side of the outpost’s main building. “Rebuilding Challenger drones sounds like it would be difficult, though.”

“Legaci said the archive did have a blueprint for the ones we have here.” Renchiko says as we reach the door. “So if we had the parts, I could probably repair some of the ones we have here, and she could reprogram them.”

“Maybe in the future, then. When money isn’t a problem.” I say, the door spiraling open for me. Outside, the sun is heading down; it’s not winter on the part of the planet that we’re on, so it’s a green Krysmis. The grass is lush, the trees outside the outpost’s perimeter waving in the warm wind. As I start down the path, I take note of the stumps where trees have been cut down. With the static fence offline for much of the past fifteen years, nature was able to make its advance on the outpost, and it’s only just now being pushed back by mercs starting to clean up the grounds.

“You think they’re gonna cut this grass any time soon?” Renchiko asks as we make our way to the main building.

“I sort of like it.” I say, reaching out and letting my hand skim over the waist-high blades. “It’s nice watching it dance in the wind. Like a sea of green.”

“Tall grass attracts bugs and rodents.” Renchiko scowls, swatting at the air around herself. “It’s why I hated the fields back on Shanaurse. We always had problems with mice in the garage and trying to get into the house.”

“Fair enough.” I concede, looking across the grounds. “I’m not sure we have a lawn drone here. It would probably have to wait until the mercs got the rest of the stumps ripped up. Would do a number on the mower blades if it went over one of those.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, simply keeping stride with me as we close on the main building. I don’t say anything either, partially unsure of what to say. Sometimes, around teenagers, it’s best not to say anything at all. I remember when I was her age, and one of the things I found annoying was older people trying to make conversation when all I wanted was to be left alone.

How far away those days seemed now.

It’s not til we’re almost to the door of the main building that it feels right to say something again. “You don’t regret coming with us, do you?”

It’s something that draws her attention. Those dark green eyes flick to me, and her shoulders roll uncomfortably. “I, uh… I mean, it’s definitely been an adjustment. It’s, uh… life on the run isn’t as exciting as I thought it’d be. There’s a lot of travel between the exciting parts. Like, a lot of travel. This was a lot more than I expected.”

I chuckle a little at that, coming to a stop outside of the door. “Welcome to the life of a Challenger. Fight bad guys for thirty minutes, spend a day or two on a planet, then spend the next two weeks in hyperspace. Galaxy’s a big place. It takes a while to get anywhere in it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” she admits, looking at the door and puffing her bangs out of her eyes. “I noticed you’re training Ridge how to fight.”

“I am. Teaching him Jai Te so long as he keeps his grades up.” I say. “He wants to be a Challenger, or whatever the equivalent of it will be in the Valiant Project. Why, were you interested?”

“What, me?”

“Yeah, you. In learning Jai Te.”

“I mean… I guess. I’ll prolly never use it, though.”

“How do you figure?” I ask, waving the door open and stepping inside. “Having some grasp of martial arts is useful if you ever find yourself in a scrap, which happens pretty frequently for vigilantes and heroes.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m gonna be getting in a lot of fistfights in the cockpit of a Titan.” she says, following me inside.

“Mm, I’m not so sure about that.” I say as the door spirals shut behind us. “One could argue that being in the cockpit of a Titan is nothing but fistfights. On a much vaster scale than the norm, but mech piloting still involves a good deal of martial arts.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like Leviathans are going to whip out a flying high kick.” Renchiko points out as she follows me down the hall. “They just go straight for the tackle, rip, and tear.”

“You’re completely right.” I agree. “But knowing how to position yourself, how to land a hit, how to feint and manage your footwork — these are all things taught in the martial arts, and things that are important in close-quarters mech combat. Especially against organic targets like Leviathans.”

“I guess.” she admits. As we arrive to the glass hall that wraps around the main building’s terrarium, she stops. “Songbird?”

I stop and look around at her. Hands shoved in her black jeans, feet slightly apart in that command stance that her mother so often had. “Yeah?”

“I need to know.” she says. “Are you actually going to teach me to pilot a Titan or was that something you just said to get me to come with you?”

I don’t respond right away. After a moment, I fully turn to face her. “I said it because I meant it. Your mother asked me to train you, the same way she trained me. And I’ll tell you the same thing I got told when I started training to be a mech pilot: it will take years. It will have to be earned. It’s not just a hobby or something you do on the side. It will be one of the cores of who you are and what you are capable of, if not the center of how you define yourself. I’ll teach you. But only if you’re willing to put in the effort and make the sacrifices it requires.”

By the end of that she’s able to look me in the eye. “I’m willing to do that. But uh, how do I put this… you guys don’t have any Titans.”

“No, we don’t.” I agree. “They’re kinda expensive. And they require a transport vessel, and a dedicated garage crew and an operations and support team. All those things will come in time. But first we’ve gotta find our feet with the Valiant Project, reclaim old Challenger resources, and claim our place in the galaxy. The rest will follow. And, even if we did have a Titan right here, right now, at our disposal…” I reach out, bouncing the tip of my finger against the tip of her nose. “…it’d still be years before I let you set foot in that cockpit. You’ve got a lot to learn before you’re ready to pilot.”

She wrinkles her nose at that. “…okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying to me when you told me I’d get to pilot a Titan.”

“I don’t intend on making a liar out of myself.” I say, tucking my hand back in the pocket of my hoodie. “I’m not going to let you down the way your uncle let you down, or the way that other people have let me down throughout the years. I’ve learned from the mistakes that others made, and I won’t repeat them, or inflict them on others.”

She bobs her head at that. “So you’ve got a plan?” she says, fidgeting with the welding goggles around her neck.

“Pieces of one.” I say, turning and starting into the glass hall. “I know where we can get mechs. I’m just waiting until we’re firmly established and we have enough people behind us that someone won’t come and steal them from us. Being settled in a Bastion is part of that, since Bastions have dedicated mech hangars and their own array of defenses. After that is assembling the garage crew and the operations crew, and then… well, I won’t bore you with the details just yet. Let’s just say that there’s a lot of paperwork and personnel management that goes into running a mech outfit.” I slow a little bit, peering down the hall, then back over my shoulder. “…where is everybody? At the Backbend Break area?”

“Yeah, at the little cafe-lookin’ place towards that one corner of the building.” Renchiko says, pointing in the direction I was headed. “You were going the right way.”

“Mm. I don’t hear that as often as I like.” I say, picking up the pace again. “Who all is down there?”

“Pretty much everyone. The Lieutenant, that catboy that hangs out around her, Ridge, Jackrabbit and Valkyrie, the Masklings, a few of the mercs… some of the others started up a campfire in the terrarium and they’re doing smokies and s’mores.” Renchiko answers. “Lots of food and snacks and stuff. There should probably be some left for you.”

“I rarely eat, but I appreciate the thought.” I say, touching a thumb to the corner of my mouth, thinking about the last time I’d tasted anything besides blood or fizzwater. “I’ll leave the food for those that actually need… it.” My pace starts to slow on the last word as I realize that we’re passing by the infirmary, and I can see through the glass door to the beds within, one of which has Cahriu in it.

“Feroce?” Renchiko asks, noticing me slowing to a stop.

“You go on ahead, tell the others I’ll be there in a bit.” I say, the glass panels to the infirmary spiraling open at a wave of my hand. “I need to make a quick visit.”

I step into the infirmary with that, the door spiraling shut behind me without further explanation. Cahriu, hearing the door open and close, looks over to me, then sits up in his bed a little more. “Well, well. If it isn’t the miracle man.”

“Didn’t think you’d be happy to see me.” I say, approaching his bed. He’s in a hospital gown and tucked under covers in the infirmary bed, but looking a good deal better than he was back at the Vinnerheim Sanctuary. The fissure marks that had crept up his neck while he was tangled with Kiwi are still there, and I’ve got a feeling that they might end up being a permanent scar.

“A little company’s nice when you’re stuck in a bed like this.” he says, flicking at the covers he’s beneath. “Besides, you kept me alive, so I have to respect that. Even if I think you’re boring and joyless and too much of a good boy to deserve Kiwi’s attention.”

“Me, well-behaved? Perish the thought.” I say drily, coming to a stop beside his bed.

He snorts. “Like that. C’mon, dude. Live a little. Have some fun. You’re so… demure and inoffensive and politically correct around other people. Like you’re afraid to express yourself or have an opinion of your own.”

“What can I say. I had my name, reputation, and image absolutely demolished on a literally galactic scale fifteen years ago. The experience came with just a little bit of psychological trauma.” I say, still a bit on the dry side. “How are you doing? Did Valkyrie say when you’d be able to be up and about again?”

“She gave me another two weeks to build up my strength and get walking again.” he says, flopping his head back on his pillow. “Did the whole routine about not knowing where my weakness is coming from, even though we both know why I’m like this right now.”

“You’re just gonna blame it on Kiwi?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks. “Hey, it’s true, isn’t it? Took me a bit but I realized she was chomping on my soul like it was a candy bar during that fight. Forecast says I’ll recover, but it’ll take time. A soul doesn’t heal quickly. Although we’ve both noticed yours seems to be a lot sturdier than most other people.”

“Mm.” is all I say to that, fighting the urge to glance down at Kiwi’s runemarks on my wrist. “If you say so.”

“It’s the only thing that explains why you’re still alive after being tangled with her this long.” Cahriu says, shrugging. “Take the compliment, buddy. It’s not often that I admit somebody else has something that I don’t. That being said… don’t let it go to your head.” He holds up his arm, showing off the black fissure marks on it. “I know you’ve got them too. And they’re spreading, aren’t they? Slower than mine were, but spreading nonetheless.”

My fingers dig into the cuff of my hoodie, as if refusing to pull back the sleeve and reveal my own marks. “Have yours regressed any?”

“They haven’t. Forecast tells me they’re there to stay.” Cahriu says, sizing up his arm. “They don’t hurt now that I’m no longer tangled with her. But they’re a reminder of when I was, and what it cost me.” He drops his arm, looking at me. “She’s going to eat you alive, just like she did to me. I’m not sayin’ it because I’m jealous, or because I want to be an ass. Just between you and me, as two people that know what it’s like to tangle with her — if you stay tangled with her, she’s eventually going to kill you, Songbird. Not as fast as she was killing me, but she will eventually kill you.”

I press my lips tight at that. “She thinks I can survive her.”

One of his wolven ears flicks. “Maybe she does. I’ll be upfront with you, Songbird, Kiwi is hot, but she’s a little… off. Even as Masklings go. I didn’t spend as much time with her as you probably think I did, but I could tell just from that time I spent with her. She’s not like other Masks; she’s more… wild. Visceral. A predator. And back at the Sanctuary, I could tell when I was still tangled with her: she wouldn’t have thought twice about draining me empty to keep fighting those two Peacekeepers.” He fixes those orange eyes on me. “You stay tangled with her, she will eat you bit by bit, until there’s nothing left. And then she’ll move on to her next handler. I’m warning you because I owe it to you for saving my life, so I’m trying to save yours.”

I look away after a moment. It’s a lot to absorb, especially coming from the guy I was butting heads with as recently as two weeks ago. I couldn’t exactly say we were friends, but it looks like he’s trying to bury the hatchet, and he seems sincere about what he’s telling me.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I say, deflecting away to another topic as I notice the tray on his bedside. “I’m guessing they already brought you dinner?”

“Yeah, a mashup of all the greatest hits from the Krysmis buffet.” he says, waving idly at the mostly-finished dinner on the tray. “Most of it was okay. I’ve seen better dinners. Stick to the mashed taters, but watch out for the eggnog.”

“That bad, huh?” I say, reaching over to pick up the tray. 

“It was actually pretty good. Better than I was expecting. I’m pretty sure someone spiked some rum into it.”

“So I heard.” I say, making sure all the bowls and utensils are towards the center of the tray. “I’ll drop this off in the kitchen for you. You want anything before I go?”

“Nah, get outta here.” Cahriu says, making a shooing motion. “Go have some fun. I’m sure someone’s out there waiting to catch you under the kissing berries.”

I snort a little at that. “If you say so.” I say, turning and heading for the door. “Get some rest. I can’t beat you senseless for saying or doing stupid shit when you’re laid up like this.”

“Haha, that’s more like it!” Cahriu laughs after me. “That’s more like it, Blueberry. I knew you had a little spice in you. Keep it up, that’s the sort of thing Kiwi likes.”

I shake my head at that, smiling as I wave the door open and step back into the hall, the panels spiraling shut behind me.

So Kiwi liked spice, did she now.

Entertainment Weekly (Tabloid News Channel)

“Welcome back to Entertainment Weekly, your one-stop shop for all the hottest news in the Myrrdicato Galaxy! Krysmis is here, with the Racuriel Rockettes giving a rousing performance of holiday favorites, hosted from the palace of the Venusian Monarchy this year. There were some protests against the performance by conspiracy theorists claiming that the Viralix psi-pop group would use the broadcast to brainwash the galactic masses into supporting the political agenda of the Viralix, but nobody with a functioning brain takes that seriously. Besides, you don’t need psionic persuasion to be mesmerized by hot foxes with moves and pipes like these!

Moving on to the celebrity side, the official Bad Guy Appreciation website made a major splash last night when they released their annual Top Ten Hottest Bad Guys And Girls list on Krysmis Eve. Carving out a spot at No. 6 was Songbird, who we all know has made a comeback in a big way this year! The ranking was based on a tranche of photos obtained by Entertainment Weekly that show the galaxy’s most notorious Challenger a little ‘tied up’ dealing with an unidentified partner. Other photos in the tranche show the Challenger mixing and mingling at a high-society scene on Sybione, sporting a sharp new haircut and cleaning up in a what looks like a Fashionista classic. We’ll have an exclusive on that later in the hour as our reporters dive into Songbird’s fifteen-year evolution from despised Nova-killer to suave bad boy!…”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Challenger Valiant: Backbend Break Area

5:58pm SGT

When I reach the Backbend Break area, it’s to find that there’s a heated debate in progress.

“I’m telling you, it’s not the same with a holographic tree.” Tarocco stresses, crouched down beside a hover-column base that she’s getting calibrated near the corner of the terrarium where the hall bends around to either side of the building. “With a holo-tree, you just flick a switch and boom, it’s there. There’s no work, no soul, no spirit in it.”

“I mean, I’m just sayin’, we’re over here with our tree all set up, while you’ve been messing with that thing for the last twenty minutes.” Sierra points out. She’s sitting at one of the tables near the fountain, boots kicked up on the table while she sips from her drink. In front of the fountain is a Krysmis tree projected into the air by the local holoarray. “And even once you finally get your tree in here, you’re gonna have to throw lights on it, and hang ornaments, and then it’s gonna die after five days and you’ve ruined a perfectly good tree that took decades to grow.”

“I hate to admit it, but she makes a good point.” Luci agrees from the chair beside Sierra. “That’s really not fair to the tree.”

“Trees don’t have feelings.” Commander Dussel declares from where he’s pouring more punch for himself from one of the bowls on the counter. “If you want Krysmis done proper, a real tree is the only way to go.”

“Exactly! Thank you.” Tarocco says, motioning to Dussel. “Listen to your Commander. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“That’s takin’ it a little too far.” Sierra drawls, puffing a lock of hair out of her face. “Let’s settle this the democratic way. Jackrabbit, Valkyrie, what do you think?”

“Oh, it don’t much matter to me!” Jackrabbit says cheerily from where she’s sitting at one of the smaller tables, with Valkyrie beside her. Judging by the tint in Jackrabbit’s cheeks, she’s had more than a couple glasses of eggnog. “I’m good with either! Holographic trees are easy to set up, but I love the smell of a real tree. That pine scent brings back a lot of memories. Eh, what about you, Val?”

“No comment.” Valkyrie mutters.

There’s an instant uproar in the break area, taking the form of boos and jeering. Sierra takes her feet off her table, leaning forward. “Oh no no no no no, doctor. You don’t get to wriggle out of this one. Pick a side: real or holographic.”

“Jack didn’t pick a side!” Valkyrie protests.

“She said she likes the scent of pine, that’s basically a vote for real trees.” Tarocco points out.

“Yes, but she didn’t commit to a side!” Valkyrie insists.

“She didn’t commit, but she implied a preference, which is basically a vote.” Legaci says from where her hologram is poking at the holographic tree. “For all intents and purposes.”

Valkyrie rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. I prefer holographic. There’s less mess to clean up.”

“See, was that so hard?” Sierra says, waving a hand. “You’re next, Legaci. Real or holographic?”

“Holographic, of course.” Legaci scoffs. “Way less cleanup and maintenance. Plus there’s a ton of customization options and effects that you can’t get with real trees.”

“There’s another vote for holographic.” Sierra says. “Officially puts us in the lead.”

“Actually, I prefer real trees.” Luci says, sipping from his mug.

“What! Didn’t you just say that it was cruel to cut down a real tree?” Sierra demands.

“Well, it is, but I like having something real to touch. You can’t touch a holographic tree.” Luci explains. 

Sierra huffs. “Silly cat, can’t make up your mind…” Her gaze falls on me. “Songbird! Help us out here. Real trees or holographic trees, which one do you prefer?”

I tuck my hands in my pockets, shrugging. “Depends. If I have to set it up, holographic. But if I don’t have to be the one to cut down the tree and bring it in? I wouldn’t mind a real tree if someone else was doing the hard part for me.”

“Oh, that’s just weak.” Dussel grumbles. “Cutting down the tree is part of the experience.”

I put up a hand. “Look, if that’s your thing, great. But I can’t count myself a fan of trudging out into the bitter winter cold, working up a sweat sawing down a tree, getting sap all over my hands and clothes that takes forever to scrub off, just so I can have something to stick my presents under.”

“But that’s the point!” Dussel says, clenching a hand into a fist. “It’s hard earned! A battle with the rugged elements, a proving of one’s ability to wrangle and tame nature. It’s a tradition, a rite of passage.”

“So, that sounds like a vote for holographic to me.” Legaci says. “Since Songbird sounds like he’d rather flip a switch and have a tree, instead of going out and cutting down a real one.”

“And that puts us at a tie.” Sierra says. “Dussel, Tarocco, Jackrabbit, and Luci prefer real trees. Me, Legaci, Valkyrie, and Songbird prefer holographic trees.”

“Hold up there, didn’t four of us go out to get a real tree?” Dussel says. “So that’s another four votes for real trees.”

Sierra waves that off. “Ridge and Renchiko are minors, so they’re not of voting age.”

“There’s still Forecast and Kiwi, which makes six to four.” Tarocco points out.

“Psssh, whatever.” Sierra scoffs. “Y’all just graspin’ at straws now. Speaking of which, are they back yet? They’ve been taking forever.”

“You’re remarkably short on patience, for someone that is supposed to be second-in-command of a mercforce.” Forecast’s voice comes from the other side of the break area, and I look to see him arriving with a pine tree hovering behind him, encircled by rings of yellow light that keep it hovering horizontally above the ground. Ridge and Renchiko are helping pull it along on the sides, with Kiwi pushing it from the back. “We had to venture some distance by flyer before we were able to find a region with conifers.”

“Oh, great! Just in time. I just finished calibrating the column base.” Tarocco says, turning on the stand. A pillar of light rises out of it, marking where the suspension column’s field is. “Bring it on over. Once you get it vertical, you can just push it in there.”

“Hey, now we’ve got somewhere to put our presents!” Jackrabbit crows. “Good job, kids! That means you guys get to open your presents first!”

“I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but what’s the point of putting presents under the tree when you’re just going to give them to someone five minutes later?” Luci asks as the Masklings and the kids float the tree over to the hover column, then working on getting it upright. “At that point you might as well give it to the person you were going to give it to.”

“He’s got a point.” Legaci agrees. “If you were going to throw presents under the tree, you should’ve gotten the tree set up a few days before Krysmis, instead of waiting until the last minute.”

“Look man, we’ve been busy ever since we decided to make this place our stationary hideout!” Jackrabbit says, waving wildly. Valkyrie has to reach out and catch the corner of her chair to keep her from tipping over. “We’ve been fixing the place, and uh… what exactly have we fixed so far?”

“We’ve repaired all the breaches in the building, and restored the solar array so the air conditioning, lighting, and computers work again.” Valkyrie says, reaching over to take Jackrabbit’s glass out of her hand and set it on the table. “Essentially making it livable again. Cleaned out all the debris, and while the Accatria was retrieving Renchiko, we restored the plumbing and water cycling system. We’ve also been working on reclaiming the grounds from nature.”

“Exactly!” Jackrabbit exclaims, reaching for her drink again. “We’ve done all that stuff! We haven’t had time to set up Krysmis decorations!”

“Well, there’s always next year.” I point out. “Tarocco, you guys need help getting that thing up?”

“I think we’ve got it; five should be enough.” Tarocco says as she and the others guide the tree into the hover column. “Well, that should do it. We got our Krysmis tree. Anyone got tinsel lying around that we can throw on it or something?”

“Yeah, you guys do that, I’m starving.” Ridge says, heading over to one of the counters to start scrubbing his hands. “God, this sap is so sticky. Let’s just stick with the holographic tree next year. Or have someone else cut the tree down and bring it in.”

“Hey, there’s another vote for holographic trees!” Sierra crows. 

“Wait, you said that they’re minors, so they don’t get a vote.” I point out, then call over to Ridge. “Make sure you use soap and the scrubbie, Ridge. The sponge won’t get it off.”

“I changed my mind.” Sierra says, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Their votes can count if they’re voting for holographic.”

“What are we voting for?” Kiwi asks as she heads over to one of the tables to pick up a creme puff and pop it in her mouth, then piles a couple more in her hand.

“A silly debate that’s already been settled.” Dussel says, pushing off the wall where he’s been leaning. “Sierra, turn the holoarray down a little. Now that everyone’s here, we might as well get the presents out of the way.”

“Ah yes. Presents.” Sierra says, reaching back and dialing down the volume on the holoarray that’s been playing Entertainment Weekly’s Krysmis special behind her. “Luci already knows what his present’s going to be.”

“Wait, I do?” Luci says, looking up from his plate of chocolate-drizzled pretzels.

“And my present to the rest of you is a set of free earplugs to whoever’s rooming next to the Lieutenant.” Dussel says, moving over to one of the counters and opening the door beneath it. “Trust me, you’ll need ‘em. Alright, let’s see what we got here… looks like we’ve got a couple for the kids.”

“Wait, really?” Ridge says as he dries his hands off.

“Don’t look at me. These are from Songbird.” Dussel says, handing a wrapped box to Ridge before turning and toss the other box across the break area. “Catch, Renchiko.”

Renchiko reaches up with her free hand, catching the box, then stumbles, fumbling with it as she realizes how dense it is. “Wow, this is heavy. What is it?”

I give a light shrug. “Why don’t you open it and see? That’s the point of a present, isn’t it?”

“It looks like a small case…” Ridge says. He’s already torn the wrapping off his, and pops open the latches on the side to open it up. “Whoa, no way. You got us guns for Krysmis?”

“A nonlethal gun. Those are stunner pistols.” I explain. “That used to be one of the first weapons that Challenger recruits were issued. It was to get us into the habit of trying to resolve problems nonlethally, if diplomacy failed and we were forced to resort to violence. Being issued your stunner pistol meant that you were cleared for missions in the field. I’ll show both of you how to use and maintain them tomorrow, if you like.”

“This has got to be the coolest present I’ve ever gotten.” Ridge says, taking out his pistol and sighting down the barrel. “Now I won’t be stuck bringing a knife to gun fights.”

“You’ll also need some trigger discipline and training to go with that.” Dussel grunts, reaching up to plant a finger on the barrel and pushing it down until it’s angled towards the floor. “First rule of guns: even if it’s unloaded or uncharged, never point it at something you don’t intend to shoot. Songbird, you’ll make sure these pups are given proper firearms training and have a healthy respect for how dangerous these kinds of weapons are.”

“Of course.” I say as Dussel goes back to passing out presents.

“This is… a really nice model.” Renchiko says, her fingers running over the inside of the case, tracking over the pistol and the accessories packed in the case with it. “It’s got maintenance tools, extra power cells that you can charge in the case, and the case itself can be charged up for long deployments… Songbird, this… had to be really expensive.”

I give a modest shrug. “I wanted to give both of you something that would last you a long time and you’d get a lot of use out of it. You both made big sacrifices coming with us, and you’ll be taking big risks in the future. You both deserve the equipment you need to do the jobs that you’re training for.”

Renchiko closes her pistol case, hugging it to her chest and smiling at me. “Thanks, Big Brother.”

“On the note of gratitude, we had something for you as well, Songbird.” Forecast says from where he’s helping Tarocco and Kiwi decorate the tree. Each of them are using their wristmarks to form little beads of light, rolling them between their fingers before setting them on the tips of the tree’s branches to give it some illumination. “Commander Dussel, you’ll see a small box in there. It should have Songbird’s name on it. Please give that to him when you come across it, would you?”

“How small are we talking?” Dussel asks, rooting around in the cabinet. “Nevermind, found it. Songbird, you got incoming.”

I raise a hand, catching the box that’s tossed my way. It’s not very large — it fits easily in my hand. “I’d ask what it is, but I’m pretty sure you’re just going to tell me to open it and find out.” I say, starting to dig my fingers under the wrapping.

“More or less. We’re pretty sure you’ll like it, though.” Tarocco says.

Finishing ripping away the paper, I size up what looks to be a small remote with a screen. It turns on at a touch, though I don’t recognize what it’s for. “…right, I’ll admit I don’t get it. Did you all get me a drone or something…?”

“It’s for your hair, Blueberry.” Kiwi calls. “Remember those prismatic nanites we dyed your hair with?”

“Oh, I get it now!” I say, starting to thumb through the options on the screen. “So this is supposed to allow me to control them?”

“We thought you would appreciate that.” Forecast says. “Instead of having to come to one of us to sync your hair color, you can do it on your own now, or in the middle of a mission, should you need.”

“Well, isn’t that nifty.” I say, picking out a flame-red shade and confirming the color, then walking over to the glass wall to study my dim reflection. “That’s neat. Thanks, guys.”

“It’s nothing, just a small gesture to express our gratitude for the aid you’ve given our people recently.” Forecast demurs. “Having an advocate with such clout and recognition on the galactic stage is an honor.”

The sweeping nature of that statement makes me a little uneasy, but Dussel’s gruff exasperation saves me from having to answer it. “Sierra, did you seriously wrap a gift, then address it to yourself and put it in here?” he says, holding up a poorly-wrapped box.

“What, me?” Sierra says, looking over her shoulder. “Did I do that?”

“On the label, your name is in both the To and From spaces. And I only know one person that would struggle to gift-wrap a simple rectangle.”

“Oh hush, I’ve never seen you wrap a present.” Sierra says, snatching the present away from him. “Oh look, it is for me! From me! Past me really cares about future me. How thoughtful of her.”

“You’re telling me you forgot you got a present for yourself?” Dussel says incredulously.

“I’m a busy woman, Commander.” Sierra says, starting to rip open the present. “Oh, that reminds me. There should be another present in there for Songbird. That one’s from me and Ridge.”

“Look at that, you’re popular tonight, Songbird.” Dussel says, digging under the counter until he comes up with another present. Instead of tossing it to me, he stands up and lumbers over to me. “Feels like it has liquids in it, so I decided against throwing it.” he explains as he passes it over to me.

“Liquids, huh?” I say, taking the present and starting to open it. What’s inside looks to be a handcrafted wooden box with a lacquered finish, with the seal of one of the major for-profit bloodbanks carved into the lid. “Wait, is this…”

“I couldn’t think of what else to get you.” Ridge says awkwardly. “But I figured, since you’re an Orphan and blood’s expensive for you, and you can never afford the good stuff, you would like something like… that.”

I press the latch in, opening the lid. Inside is a felt cloth draped over the top of what’s probably a set of bottles. “The Rantecevangian Krysmis Collection… responsibly sourced and bottled by Bloodstone.” I say, reading out the words on the felt cover, then folding it back. Underneath is a set of carved, oval crystal bottles, nestled within similar felt seating, each one with a custom-shaped stopper to denote the blood type in each bottle. Just in case that wasn’t enough, each has a little handwritten tag around the neck to make clear what species the blood came from.

“You like that, yeah?” Sierra says smugly. “Figured you would.”

“Anaya above, this is…” I say, reaching in and reading that tags on each bottle. “…this stuff is rare. There’s lepidopteran blood in here… this one’s Kidaku blood… holy shit, is this a bottle of morphox blood? I didn’t know you could buy any of these!”

“Not from the Dodakatheon bloodbank run by the Families.” Sierra says, sipping from her glass. “There’s certain rules and regulations they have to abide by as a state-run entity, with rare and endangered creatures being off-limits due to preservation laws. But private companies can skirt those laws. Bloodstone specializes in higher-end offerings; they usually source and bottle a lot of rarer and exotic bloods from lesser-known and endangered species.”

“This had to cost a fortune, though.” I say, pulling out one of the elegant bottles and weighing it in my hand. “Did you help him pay for it, Sierra?”

“What? Hell no, I’ll get you a bottle of the good stuff every now, but a collector’s dozen of the rare stuff? I like you, but I don’t like you that much.” Sierra scoffs. “I just showed Ridge where he could buy the stuff and let him pay under my credentials. Bloodstone doesn’t sell unless you can prove that you’re a vampire, or that you’re buying for a vampire.”

“But Ridge doesn’t have that kind of money.” I point out.

“Actually, he does have that kind of money.” Sierra says, kicking her boots up on the table again. “He’s quite the little entrepreneur, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh really.” I say, setting the bottle back in the box as I look to Ridge. “Is that so?”

He shrugs sheepishly, looking back down into the case for the stunner pistol. “Just a gig on the side, s’all.” he mumbles.

“Quite a lucrative gig.” I say, flipping shut the lid of the box. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing to rake in this kind of dough?”

“Uh… photography…” he says evasively.

“Photography?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Would it happen to be tabloid photography?” Legaci asks, breaking into the conversation unexpectedly. She’s still fiddling with the holographic tree in front of the fountain, but there’s an evil gleam in her blue eyes. “I was wondering where Entertainment Weekly sourced those pictures from.”

She makes a flicking motion before I can ask what she’s talking about, and the holoarray behind Sierra enlarges, the volume dialing up a little. Playing through the air is a slideshow of monochrome pictures taken in a darkened room deep with shadows, accompanied by a reporter’s voiceover. It doesn’t click until I see the photo that involves someone with their hands tied behind their back, kneeling in front of someone else who’s leaning back on desk.

That’s the study at the Maskling estate on Sybione.

The realization starts hitting the rest of the room a second later, with Sierra letting out a delighted shriek. “What?! What?! Songbird, is that you? Holy shit that’s you, that’s the blue hair, that’s you!”

“Wait what?” Jackrabbit says, jerking forward drunkenly, leaning over her table to get a closer look at the pictures. “Really? Daaaaaayum, Songbird!”

“It seems like there was some information omitted from your report after you visited Sybione.” Dussel says, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Wait, Kiwi, that’s you in those pictures!” Tarocco exclaims, a little ball of light sitting half-rolled and forgotten in her fingers. “That’s one of the studies in the Kimecan Estate where you were captured! What happened?! You had him tied up in these pictures, you should’ve been the one kidnapping him, not the other way around!”

Kiwi, who up until this point looked startled and caught off guard, gives Tarocco a dirty look. “Oh hush. He’s a Challenger, okay? He had a few tricks up his sleeve I wasn’t expecting.”

“It looks to me like you were playing with your food.” Forecast remarks, his tone somewhat brittle as his gaze flicks towards Kiwi. “Being as you took the time to bind his wrists with your necktie and then made a point of undoing the collar and the top button of your shirt.”

Kiwi rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Dad, I was having fun. I’m an adult now, I’m allowed to do that, right?”

“And here I was, thinking you two duked it out.” Sierra grins, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand. “Now I want to hear a little more about how that ‘fight’ went.”

“You’re not the only one.” Legaci says, smirking. “I think the entire galaxy’s interested in knowing the story there.”

I’m so far gone beyond embarrassment I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. Here we are once again, my image splashed across the galactic airwaves with no context and everything left to the viewer’s interpretation. Some things just never change. Except this time, I know who leaked the material.

I think Ridge can tell, from the moment I look in his direction, that I’m pissed.

“Look, they were offering me good money! I could go to college six times over if I wanted to!” he yelps, shoving back from his table. “Wait — Songbird, I can explain—”

“Ridge!” I snap, starting to march towards him.

“I’m sorrrrrrry, don’t hurt meeeee!” he wails, taking off at a dead run down the nearest wing of the glass hall.

I only pause to set down the box I’m holding, then turn and sprint after him.

“I’m going to punt you clean into next century, kid!”

Event Log: Kiwi

Challenger Valiant: Backbend Break Area

6:11pm SGT

“I’m going to punt you clean into next century, kid!”

The rest of us watch as Songbird goes hurtling across the break area, vaulting a table and taking off after Ridge, shouting as he goes. “You told me you were holding those pictures for blackmail! I can’t believe you sold them for personal gain, you rotten little punk!”

As the sound of pounding feet and shouting recedes down the hall, Tarocco looks back to me. “You gonna do anything about that, or…?”

I look up from my phone. “Whaddaya expect me to do about it?”

“Perhaps prevent him from committing homicide on Krysmis.” Forecast remarks, turning back to the tree to perch another fairy light on it.

“C’mon, Dad, the kid had it coming to him.” I say, going back to my phone. “Selling compromising pictures to a tabloid so they could broadcast them to the rest of the galaxy for a ratings boost? You really can’t blame Songbird for being pissed off. Now the whole galaxy’s going to think he’s kinky, on top of being outlaw.”

“You don’t sound too bothered about that.” Tarocco says critically. In the background, the rest of the mercs and Challengers have gone back to chatting with each other, some of them still giggling over the pictures airing on the holoarray.

“Well, it’s not like I can do anything about it.” I say, thumbing over my phone’s screen as I navigate the galaxynet to where I want to go. “What am I supposed to do, tunneljump over to the Entertainment Weekly studios and tell them to retract it? It’s already out there in the public sphere; there’s no taking it back now.”

“What are you doing?” Tarocco says, moving over to squint at my phone. “Wait, are you… you’re downloading the pictures from their website?!”

“What’s wrong with that?” I protest. “They’re good pictures!”

“Kiwi!”

“What?!”

“Seriously?!”

“They’re good pictures!”

“What are you even going to do with them?” Tarocco demands incredulously.

“I’unno. I like this one where he’s got his wrists tied and he’s kneeling in front of me, I think I’ll try to get that one sized up so I can put it on a holoscroll and hang it in my room.” I say, holding out my phone at arm’s length as if visualizing it on my wall.

“You’re going to hang that kinky-ass picture up in your room like some kind of trophy?” she demands, then looks at Forecast. “You’re just going to stand by and let her do that?”

“She’s to the age where I can’t go into her room and take her toys anymore.” Forecast says without taking his eyes off the fairy light he’s rolling.

“It’ll really add to the ambiance of my room. Good for setting the mood.” I say, starting to scroll through the other pictures in the blackmail tranche.

“You’re unbelievable.” Tarocco say, snatching my phone.

“Hey!” I yelp. “Real mature, Tarocco!”

She points back down the other hall. “Go take care of Songbird and keep him from throttling Ridge to death. You can lech over your steamy blackmail pictures later.”

I roll my eyes. “He’ll be fine, Songbird might be pissed, but he won’t hurt him.”

Before Tarocco can reply, there’s a distant crash, and the faint echo of Songbird roaring from the other end of the building. “You can run, but you can’t hide, Ridge!”

Tarocco doesn’t say anything, just raises her eyebrow at me.

I bite my lip, looking around. It looks like Sierra’s starting to get up from her chair. “I guess he is a bit sensitive about how he’s portrayed to the rest of the galaxy…” I admit, remembering how he’d reacted when we’d manipulated him for the statement on Echo’s death. “I’ll be back. You better not delete those pictures off my phone; I’ll just download them again later.”

“Stop worrying about your softcore kink pics and go get your handler under control.” Tarocco says, waving me off.

I let out a little huff at that and start for the hallway that Sierra’s already moving towards. “You’re worried about Ridge too?” I ask.

“Me?” Sierra says, reaching up and grabbing a curl of kissing berries hanging from the ceiling as she goes. “Couldn’t care less. But everyone else is, and it’s putting a kink in the mood for the evening, so I’m gonna go sort it out.”

“Has he always been this sensitive about his public image?” I ask as we stroll down the hall side by side.

“Nah, that started after the Incident.” Sierra says, waving it off. “The media back then ate him alive, chewed him up, then spit him out on the assumption that he killed Nova. Suddenly the entire galaxy despised him — hate mail and death threats left and right, you had people putting out bounties on his head… it got ugly.”

“Wait, seriously?” I ask. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it went that far.”

“Oh yeah. Of course, he couldn’t control anything that was going on, and nobody listened to anything he was saying. Plus the Challenger media office at the time wouldn’t let him say anything in public because they thought it might be used in court or become a legal liability.” Sierra says as we reach the bend in the glass hall that marks the building’s halfway point. “Not gonna lie, it’s pretty rough, getting dogpiled in the court of public opinion while not being able to say anything in your own defense. Think it shook him up pretty bad and ever since then, he goes a little crazy whenever he gets dragged into media stuff he never wanted to be involved in.”

“He does realize that what we’re doing here, this whole bring-back-the-Challengers project — that’s going to come with a lot of media exposure.” I point out.

Sierra gives me a sidelong look with her lone eye. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it, dear.”

“I think you meant ‘cross that bridge’ just now.”

“No, I meant burn it.”

“Okay, well… I’m pretty sure we’re standing on that bridge right now. Have been for a while, actually. And you still want to set it on fire?”

“We gotta keep things interesting somehow.” she says, holding the sprig of kissing berries out to me as we come up on the front lobby. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with these?” I ask, taking the sprig.

“Seriously?” Sierra says flatly. “We’ve got a pissed-off vampire on the loose.” She reaches out, tapping my lips. “Put that sassy mouth of yours to work on something other than one-liners and flirty comments.”

I jerk back a little at the tap on the lips, mostly out of reflex, but don’t have time to respond as Ridge comes tearing out of the lobby and almost runs into us. “Oh gods you guys have to help me he’s going to rip me limb from limb—”

“Maybe then you’ll learn a lesson about trying to blackmail someone that was trained by the Challengers’ Accounting department.” Sierra says as she grabs Ridge by the hood and pilots him around her, shoving him down the hall. “Go on, get back the break area. Kiwi’s going to talk to him.” With that, she starts walking after him, winking over her shoulder at me. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

I roll my eyes, flicking away the sprig of kissing berries and stepping into the middle of the hall, shaking my wristmarks awake before folding my arms. I can feel Songbird’s wristmark similarly flare to life not far away, although he probably doesn’t notice it, if the boiling irritation coming from his end of the link is any indication. A moment later, he comes hurtling out of the lobby, skidding to a halt when he finds me in the way.

“And where do you think you’re going?” I ask.

He just frowns at me, but I can sense through our link that he intends to sidestep me. I’m already moving by the time he does, stepping to the side that he was planning to go around, and then stepping back the other way when he moves in the other direction. When he can’t get around me, he gestures impatiently. “Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind, but it looks like you do.” I say calmly. “It’s just a bunch of pictures, Blueberry. It’s not the end of the universe.”

“I don’t care about the pictures!” he hisses. “Well, actually I do care about the pictures. But that’s not the point, the point is that Ridge sold them for personal profit at my expense! Without so much as asking me!”

“Yeah, but then he used it to get you a really nice Krysmis gift.” I point out. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

His crimson eyes light up with nuclear fury. “Kiwi, the entire galaxy now has access to compromising pictures of me that imply some kind of nonexistent bondage kink!!” he snarls, his volume dialing up several notches.

“Yeah, I’m in those pictures too, in case you forgot.” I say, giving a shrug. “You don’t see me getting all hot and bothered about it.”

“That’s because you have no shame!” he snaps.

“And maybe you could do with a little less shame and a little more fun.” I counter just as quickly. “You had a religious upbringing, didn’t you? Repressed, sheltered? Taught that sexuality was something to be ashamed of.”

“Well— yes, but— that’s besides the point!” he says, running a hand through his hair as he struggles to make eye contact. “The point is that I don’t like being portrayed like that to the rest of the galaxy.”

“Why does it matter what the rest of the galaxy thinks of you?” I ask.

“Oh, it matters.” he says, his focus sharpening and returning to me. “It matters when you can’t find a job, when doors get slammed in your face, when you wake up to find hired guns busting through your window to collect the bounty on your head. When you get kicked out of your housing because people won’t stop coming to kill you because gods forbid it should bring the property values down, you know that’s the first thing that they were concerned about when they delivered my eviction notices? Property values. Not my life. Their goddamned property values. How the rest of the galaxy sees you matters when everyone knows who you are, Kiwi. Nobody knows who you are, so you don’t have to worry about what other people think about you. You have a freedom I don’t have, a freedom I wish I had. I don’t have that freedom to just ignore what people think about me.”

I could choose to be offended about being told I’m basically nobody, but I know he doesn’t mean it in a cruel way. To him, being nobody is a good thing — and a privilege that he doesn’t get to enjoy. “Alright then. I get that, but you’re not on your own anymore. You don’t have to rely on the kindness of strangers. You have friends, powerful and well-connected friends, to keep you company and help house and shelter you. I’d be stupid to say it doesn’t matter how the galaxy sees you, because it does, but it doesn’t matter as much anymore. You have friends that know who you really are. Isn’t that enough?”

He grumbles, looking away. “…I still don’t like the rest of the galaxy having that image of me. It’s not the kind of person I am.”

“And how would you know?” I ask, smirking a little as I reach up, taking his hoodie strings and starting to tie them together. “You admitted that you were repressed and sheltered. I’m guessing you’ve never tried bondage. How can you say you’re not into it if you haven’t given it a try?”

“I just… know.” he mumbles, his gaze still averted, then glancing down to his hoodie strings. “Hey, don’t tie those together.”

“You gonna stop me?”

“No, I’m asking you not to tie those together.”

“Objection noted and overruled.”

He lets out a disgruntled rumble. “Why are you like this?”

I smirk as I finish tying a bow in his hoodie strings. “Because you like being bullied. In soft, little ways. I can tell.”

“Oh can you now?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I can.” I say, hitching my thumbs back in the belt loops of my jeans. “Are you done being angry at Ridge now?”

“No, I’m still pissed off, because what he did was wrong on several ethical levels, even discarding the fact that giving away those photos to a tabloid channel is tantamount to slander and libel.” he grouses. “Not to mention the fact that he profited off my image, then tried to buy me off with an extravagant gift, using the same funds that by all rights I should be getting a cut of…”

“Well, at least part of his heart was in the right place.” I point out. “He got you something nice for Krysmis. Speaking of which, I still haven’t given you your Krysmis present yet.”

“It’s fine, you already gave me the remote for the prismatic nanites—” he starts.

“That was a present from the group. I meant a present from me, to you.”

That gets his attention. “You… got a present for me?”

“Yeah.” I say, reaching up to touch a thumb to his lips. “Lemme see your teeth.”

“I— ah, buh—” he starts to protest, but when he tries to get words out of his mouth, I take my chance and stick my thumb in there instead. I get my forefinger under his chin to keep him from pulling away as I press my thumb down on his tongue, and all he can do is let out a confused gurgle as he gives me a befuddled look.

I can’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Gods, I’d have such fun ruining you. Never had someone else’s fingers in your mouth before, have you? I bet there’s a lot you’ve never done before.” I start to run my thumb along the teeth on his lower jaw, searching for his fangs. “You never smile a lot, and even when you do, you never show your teeth. Is it because of your fangs? I heard that in vampire society, it’s not polite to show those. It can be interpreted as a threat, even if you’re smiling.”

“Uhhh…” His tone is uncertain, his eyes darting between my face and hand, as if he’s unsure whether I actually want him to answer that. But it doesn’t look like he’s going to try to say anything, not with my thumb still in his mouth.

“You can tell me the answer later.” I say as my thumb bumps up against one of his fangs. I trace its outline with the pad of my thumb, noticing how sharp it is. “Ah, there it is. I’d forgotten how sharp they get; it’s been a while since I messed around with a vampire. How do you avoid biting yourself when you talk? With teeth like yours, I figure it’d happen pretty often.”

His embarrassment is starting to kick in, manifesting in a bashful shrug as he reaches up and tries to pull my hand out of his mouth. But I catch it before he can wrap it around my wrist, turning and pushing him gently back against the glass wall.

“Oh no, we’re not done yet, Blueberry.” I say, trying to find the best place to perch the pad of my thumb against the tip of his fang. “I thought about what to get you for Krysmis for a long time. I could’ve just ordered something off the net, or gotten you something from the store, but I wanted to get you something that would really mean something. Something unique, something nobody else could give you.” With that, I press my thumb down hard on the tip of his fang, wincing as it breaks the skin.

I can feel Songbird tense up as he realizes what I’m doing. His eyes widen, the pupils dilating as he lets out a muffled sound of alarm. “Kiwi—!” he gurgles past the knuckle of my thumb as blood starts to drip down his fang.

“What are you afraid of?” I ask softly. “That you’ll like the taste?”

“S’f dang’rous— instinfs—” he warns, struggling to speak around my thumb. His jaw tenses, like he was fighting the impulse to bite down.

I smirk. “Guess I know what to get you for your birthday.” Lifting my thumb off his fang, I pull it out of his mouth and let go of his hand, stepping back. He hunches forward, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth while his other hand braces against his knee.

“Why would you do that.” he eventually exhales, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding. “You don’t need to— I have plenty of blood, I can always get more from Sierra—”

“But you can’t get my blood from her.” I point out, watching as a little bead of red pools on my thumb, and slowly gets bigger. “And I can tell it’s something you’ll crave.”

He looks at me, then away again. I recognize the motion, how evasive it is, like my words are something he doesn’t want to confront or acknowledge.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, Songbird.” I say. I press my pierced thumb to my mouth, using the blood to paint my lips as if it was gloss. Then I place a hand on his cheek, turning his head back towards me as I lean in and press my bloody lips to his.

He tenses up again, and only after a few seconds does he start to relax. Lips parting slightly, as if the scent of blood was tempting him to lick it off my lips.

But I pull away before he can, leaving just a smear of my blood on his mouth. My only response to his confused look is to give him a smirk, then turn and start sauntering back the way I came, fingers laced behind my back. “We should probably head back. Wouldn’t want the Lieutenant to get any ideas.”

He clears his throat quickly. “Hmm. Yes. Right.” It isn’t long before I hear the sound of his footsteps hurrying along behind me. Glancing askance, I can see his reflection in the glass wall to our left, and when I catch him licking his lips, I smile to myself.

I’ve got him hooked now.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Challenger Valiant: Backbend Break Area

6:17pm SGT

Blood.

Specifically Kiwi’s blood, all over my lips.

My head was still buzzing, an electric thrill that was making it hard to think. It was a struggle to get my mind off what just happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kiwi’s blood, and it wasn’t just because it tasted unique.

It had been fresh.

I’m going to take a moment to explain here, because it’s kinda important.

Contrary to expectation, most vampires don’t take a live sacrament. It’s easier, cheaper, and more practical to stick with bottled blood from the Dodakatheon bloodbank run by the Familes and distributed by various hemopharmacists across the galaxy. The convenience was the big selling point; cracking open a bottle and taking a quick nip was something you could do in public, on the go, without disturbing the people around you. You couldn’t take a live sacrament in public, and not everybody had the leisure of being able to run home whenever they wanted to get a live sacrament. Not to mention that retaining live donors was expensive.

So to that end, the vast majority of the blood I’d had during my time as a vampire was the bottled stuff. Refrigerated, mixed with preservatives to make it last and sweeteners to make it go down easier. On the few occasions I’d had it hot and fresh out of someone’s veins, it was in the middle of combat and I was usually soaking it up through my skin so I could regenerate whatever injuries I’d accumulated to that point — more a matter of practicality than anything else, and definitely not because I’d gotten my teeth in someone.

Which is why Kiwi’s stunt was such a big deal. To me, at least. It was fresh blood, on the spot, freely offered and topped off with a kiss—

Anaya above, I feel like I’m going to explode right now.

I pat a hand to my face, trying to get myself to focus. We’re almost back at the Backbend Break area; Kiwi hasn’t said anything on the walk back, which is just fine by me since my mind feels real noisy. There’s so many questions left unanswered — why did she do it? Is she trying to manipulate me? What did that kiss mean, is she trying to tell me she’s interested in me? Or is that just some game she plays with all her handlers, the way she fooled around with Cahriu?

Now I’m wishing the walk from the lobby to the break area was longer, because there’s no way I’m going to ask her these questions in front of everybody else.

Reaching up, I wipe my hand across my mouth to make sure that I licked away all the last traces of her blood. I didn’t want to deal with more teasing questions after the ribbing I’d gotten for the photos that Ridge sold off. For now I was going to have to put my questions away and focus on socializing with everyone else. Try to salvage what was left of my dignity after getting thrown under the bus on a galactic scale. Again.

“I take it you’re done with your temper tantrum, then?” Dussel asks as we return to the break area.

“Aw, cut ‘im sum slack, Dussel!” Jackrabbit hollers from the table where Ridge is sitting with her and Valkyrie. “Pretty sure yous haffa fit if yous haff pics o’ you leaked on the net ferra’galaxy to see.”

“Thankfully I guard my affairs a little more closely than that.” Dussel says, folding his arms and sipping from his drink. “I come from a generation where we were more circumspect about such things.”

“I lived through your generation, Dussel.” Sierra scoffs. “Stop acting so high and mighty. Y’all boned the same way everyone else did for centuries before ya, and some of ya bragged about it more than kids nowadays do. Just because you talked about it in different ways doesn’t make it superior.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Jackrabbit cheers. “I been ‘round for…” She pauses, blinking a bit, then looks to Valkyrie. “Val, how old am I again? Done gone n’forgot again.”

“Age is like money, dear. Having more of it doesn’t make you better than somebody else.” Valkyrie says, patting Jackrabbit’s shoulder before using an elbow to nudge Ridge, who jumps a little. “I think you had something you wanted to say to Songbird, Ridge?”

Ridge shuffles in his seat, struggling to look at me. “Hey Songbird, I’m… sorry about what I did, I should’ve asked your permission first—”

I cut him off by holding up a hand. “We are enrolling you in an ethics course tomorrow.” Heading back over to the table where I set down the box of exotic bloods, I skim the lacquered finish with the tips of my fingers. “…thank you for the Krysmis gift. It was… thoughtful of you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, Songbird.” Renchiko says from where she’s been sitting beside Luci.

“You’re fine, Renchiko.” I smile at her. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Well, now that we’re all calmed down, there’s still one present to give out.” Legaci says, clearing her throat a little. “And this one’s for the Masklings.”

“You don’t say.” Forecast says, sipping neatly from his glass. He and Tarocco have settled onto a table near the tree they set up. “We’re flattered.”

“Don’t go thanking me yet.” she says as the rest of the holoarrays within the break area start to come to life. “As most of you are aware, I’ve been working on recovering what I can from this outpost’s computers, since the facility’s blackbox was destroyed. Much of what I’ve dug up is partial and fragmented, and not very useful to us. Wildlife surveys for this world, weather data, low-level projects, that sort of thing. However, I was able to extract something from the remains of the xenoculture department’s database: the location of an ancient Maskling arkship that was engineered and launched millennia ago, during a time when the Maskling Republic thought their race was in danger of going extinct.”

“Wait, you actually found the Cradle?” Tarocco says, leaning forward in her chair.

“Well, I found what the Challenger scientists thought was the location of the Cradle, at least based off the relics they were studying.” Legaci says as a map of the galaxy starts to spin into existence in the middle of the break area. “And honestly, it’s not really a surprise the Republic lost track of it, considering where they apparently stashed it away.”

At a flick of Legaci’s finger, the projection of the map starts to zoom in on one of the far arms of our galaxy, keying in on a long, winding filament of darkness outlined by the glow of stars in around it. The projection continues diving into this dark zone before slowing down on a system within the darkness — what appears to be an orange main-sequence star with three gas giants of varying size orbiting it.

“Oh.” Luci says softly. “Yeah, that would explain why you guys lost it.”

“Isn’t that the Vorcrueshen Abyss?” Renchiko says. “That’s not just dark space, that’s like. Dark dark space.”

“What’s the… the Abyss thing?” Ridge asks, deciding against trying to pronounce the first word.

“It’s a large stellar nursery on the edge of the galaxy.” Dussel rumbles, pushing off the wall and walking forward to study the map. “A vast region of space filled with the gas and dust needed to collapse into stars and form new solar systems. Rich with resources, but a volatile, treacherous place to live. Which is why it’s largely inhabited by the Viralix, the Collective, and a number of pirate fleets.”

“Sounds like you’ve been there before, Commander.” Sierra says, holding her glass out to Luci so he can go get her a refill.

“The Dussel Mercforce has been there a couple times before. Typically we wouldn’t go back unless we were being amply compensated for the risk.” he says, reaching down and zooming the map back out a little with a brushing motion. “The Viralix are… hard to predict, but generally territorial. The Collective aren’t thought to live in the Abyss, they merely patrol through it now and again, perhaps an allowance based on the historic truce between them and the Viralix. If we’re careful and polite, we can skirt around both of them. And any pirates stupid enough to attack a mobile fortress will get what’s coming to them.”

“The Republic can see to it that the Dussel Mercforce is fully stocked and supplied for this expedition.” Forecast says. “We will shoulder the expense of resupply if you all help us secure and return the Cradle to Maskling control.”

“On the house, then?” Dussel says, looking over his shoulder at Forecast. “Now that would be very hard to turn down.”

“We can worry about the logistics later.” Legaci says, closing the map and replacing it with a display of falling snow all around the edges of the break area. “I just brought it up as our little gift to the Masklings this Krysmis. If it wasn’t for the Maskling government’s support, we’d probably be doing a lot worse after we got blacklisted by the Colloquium. This is our way of returning the favor.”

“Hey, I can drink to that!” Jackrabbit crows, holding her glass on high. “To th’ Masklings! Turns out they’re pretty decent people after all!”

“I’m flattered.” Forecast says with some bemusement, raising his glass in return.

“I suppose they’re not too bad.” Sierra says, holding up her drink. “To the Masklings.”

A nudge at my side gets my attention, and I glance to see Kiwi offering me one of the two glasses of eggnog she snagged from the buffet table. “What do you think?” she asks quietly. “Are we as bad as the rest of the galaxy says we are?”

I hesitate in taking the glass, but eventually do so because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. “You ain’t saints by a long shot.” I say, sizing up the drink, then smiling at her. “But you’re starting to grow on me.”

She grins. “I’ll take it.” With that, she clinks her glass to mine, before raising it along with the others. I do the same, feeling the remnants of the smile linger around the corners of my mouth.

We might just be a ragtag group, but it feels like family to me.