Valiant

[Valiant #34: Be Careful What You Wish For]

Log Date: 11/13/12764

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Kiwi

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Sunthorn Bastion: Central Tower

10:53am SGT

“What? She never gave you the breakdown on how important tangling is in Maskling society?” Cahriu asks incredulously as I park the cart we’ve driven to the central tower.

“I mean, I figured it was important, you’re practically forming a semi-psionic bond with someone else.” I say defensively, unbuckling and sliding out of the driver seat. “Besides, Maskling spec ops does it all the time, right? That’s SOP for you guys?”

“I mean yeah, but there’s so much more to it than that.” Cahriu says as he slides out of the shotgun seat. “Like, the military uses it, sure, because it’s good for combat, but that’s not why it exists. When tangling was invented back in the day, it was used for relationships. That’s what you used to indicate you were mated or married to another individual. Having a wristmark from another Maskling,” At this point he pats a hand against his wrist. “would let other Masklings know that you were exclusive, and that others shouldn’t be making passes at you.”

I stare at him, then at my runemarked wrist, then back at him. “Wait, does that mean—”

“No, no!” Cahriu laughs, waving a hand as he starts walking towards the central tower. “You’re not married. Things have changed since then; the custom has evolved over the last ten thousand years. At first, one wristmark was enough to indicate a relationship, but as our species grew and our culture evolved, tangling grew more complex as well. Nowadays, having a single wristmark from another Maskling just means that you’re dating them long-term. Having two wristmarks from another Maskling is kinda like married status. It doesn’t stop there, though. Maskling couples can share collar runes, ankle runes — you get the idea. Point is, the more sets of runemarks they share with each other, the closer and more committed the relationship is.”

I hustle a little to catch up with him. “But you said the military—”

“Yeah, that’s an exception. That’s what we call work tangling.” Cahriu says quickly. “It’s supposed to be strictly professional, and it’s not meant to be permanent or long-term. Typically you untangle from your work partner once your deployment is over.”

“So when Kiwi tangled with me, that was just strictly practical?” I ask, pulling back the sleeve of my jacket to stare at her runemarks on my wrist.

“Kiwi’s the exception to the exception. For her it was probably more than practical; even if you didn’t know it at the time, she was claiming you as her partner.” Cahriu assures me as we walk down one of the main paths leading to the central tower. “But she probably didn’t expect that it would last as long as it did. Before she found you, she tended to burn through her handlers in a matter of months, or even weeks, and in the time intervening, they’d usually be her little relationship playtoys before she drained them into husks. Or at least that’s what the rumors were in the Knight Corps. You already know that, though.”

“Yeah, I’m already familiar with all that.” I confirm. “So when Masklings tangle, do they exchange wristmarks? Like each of them gives each other one of their sets of runemarks?”

“Normally that’s how it goes, yeah.” Cahriu says, tapping one of his wrists again. “Runemarks themselves are more than just relationship identifiers. We mostly use them for magic — the fact that they can be used for tangling with other Masklings is one of its secondary uses, not the primary use. Plus, the amount and type of runemarks a Maskling possesses can tell you stuff about the position they have in society or work! All Masklings are allowed to have wristmarks, anklemarks, and collar marks. But stuff like shoulder runes, torso runes, iris runes, and more, are restricted to certain types of jobs or roles, like the military. Plus, the more runes you have, the more spellweaving flexibility you have, since each rune functions like a word — it has a meaning. More words in your ‘rune vocabulary’, as it were, means you can construct a wider and more complex range of spells.”

“Gosh, this is… a lot.” I say, rubbing a hand over my face. “So the runemarks are used for a ton of stuff in Maskling society. Mostly magic, first and foremost, but then you use them for social signaling, and then for tangling, which is relationships? I never realized those marks were used for so much in your culture.”

“Let’s be honest, most times people are too busy hating on us to be interested in our culture.” Cahriu says as we mount the steps leading up to the central tower. “So we don’t really talk about it all that much with outsiders. But you’ve obviously got a vested interest, so I figured hey, why not. You deserve to know what you’re gettin’ into.”

“Well, I really appreciate it. Really helps clear some things up.” I say as we crest the top of the stairs.

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Cahriu says, giving me a hearty slap on the back. “You saved me from getting sucked dry by Kiwi; it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m still a little surprised you were so willing to just… let her go.” I say tentatively. “I mean yeah, she was burning through you like a Durasell battery, but—”

“Songbird.” Cahriu says, turning to face me fully and plant a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know where you grew up, but where I come from, the lads got a rule: bros before hoes. If a guy saves your life, you don’t let a girl ruin that. ‘Sides, you’re better equipped to handle that hellcat than the rest of us, so go on, king. You caught her fair and square. I ain’t gonna grudge you that.”

I consider that for a moment, then smile. “Y’know, you’re really not half bad, Cahriu.”

He laughs at that. “And all it took was the better part of a year and a near-death experience, right? I’ll admit, pushing your buttons was fun at first, but being friends is a little more enjoyable in the long run.” He tilts a thumb towards the glass doors leading to the tower’s lobby. “You wanna tag along? Masklings are meeting with the Valiant command structure. Apparently the Council has something they wanted the Valiant’s help with.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I was planning on checking in on Blockchain and making sure the big guy is doing okay.” I say, tilting my head back towards the grounds. “I’ll just ask Kiwi tonight, and if it’s important, she’ll cue me in.”

“Pff. Maybe. She glossed over runemarks and tangling, so she may not be the best place to get your news.” Cahriu says, waving me off as he turns and heads for the doors. “See you around, Songbird.”

“You too, Cahriu.” I say, giving him a little wave as I turn. Starting down the steps, I tuck my hands into my pockets, picking up the pace as I head for one of the ornamental paths leading into the gardens around the tower.

Time to see how the biggest recruit is holding up.

Event Log: Kiwi

Sunthorn Bastion: Central Tower COR

11:36am SGT

“…and surveillance from Demon’s Eyes indicates that the Mask collector we were originally pursuing on Halomorian may be working with a larger, more networked group. For now a stealth unit is tailing the vessel the Mask collector is traveling in, but if the current trajectory holds, they are headed for a world that houses important spiritual sites for Masklings…”

I puff a lock of hair out of my eyes, slouched in one of the hoverchairs in the Central Operations Room in the tower. All the other Masklings are here, plus the Valiant command structure — Sierra, Drill, Kaiser, Legaci, and Valkyrie. Forecast is giving a briefing on the mission that the Maskling Republic wants help with: chasing down and stamping out a group that finds and buys Masks from people who have probably gotten them through unsavory means.

I’m certainly glad the Council wants us to do something about it, but all the talking and planning and strategizing that leads up to the actual mission has me bored to death. It’s why I’m sitting in one of the hoverchairs a little ways from the others, checking my phone and staring at some of the holoscreens hovering in the cool blue darkness of the room. I’m just passively absorbing what the others are discussing while keeping myself from falling asleep.

“…low population, minimal development, and as a result we do not have much in the way of a defensive presence there the way we would for other worlds that have higher populations.” Forecast explains. “And getting soldiers there will take time; the ship will have arrived before the Maskling military does.”

“That’s going to be the same case for any ship we dispatch, though.” Drill points out. “Even if we dispatched one today, it’d still get there after the collector’s ship. From where Sunthorn is currently stationed, the transit time through tunnelspace wouldn’t get us there fast enough to intercept the collector’s ship.”

“Perhaps not, but we are hoping the collector’s ship stays at the planet long enough for an interdiction, or we can track its exit vector when it leaves the planet and intercept it at its presumed destination.” Forecast says. “At the moment, the Republic does not have any ships available in the area that we could commit to such an interception, which is why they have reached out to the Valiant for their…”

I hook my fingers in the nearest holoscreen, tugging it closer and idly poking through it. Legaci’s been busy in here over the last several months, sifting through the Bastion mainframe and assuming control of whatever she can. Based off what Songbird had said, she, and by extension the rest of us, were still stuck at third-layer access. The fourth and fifth layers, which were needed for some of the Bastion’s more advanced features, were still sealed off from us because Legaci hasn’t broken the encryptions protecting them.

“…could do that, but we’d need something in the way of resources or revenue to defray the cost of the excursion.” Drill says. “There’s a reason we’ve kept most of the Valiant grounded and we’re only sending out one or two ships at a time for missions. Revenue’s tight right now. We’ve got new cash flow trickling in from the recent merch deals, and I’ve got a funding conference planned with some of the gigacorp philanthropists at some point in the future, but things are still a little wobbly while we establish our presence. So anything that the Republic can do to help trim the operating costs for a mission like this — it would greatly appreciated.”

“That’s perfectly understandable. I’d be happy to speak with the Council and see if anything could be arranged. If the travel cost could be defrayed — fuel, supplies, maintenance — would the Valiant be willing to commit to the operation?”

“If the Republic can cover the operating costs, then the Valiant can take care of paying the personnel for the time deployed, and this operation would be much easier on our bottom line.” Drill says. “And if it’s a success, all we ask is that the Maskling Republic gives it some public acknowledgement or praise, so we can boost our public profile. Build the reputation, make it easier to bring in new donors and partnerships to help solidify the financial foundation we’re trying to lay here.”

“Certainly. That would be mutually beneficial, both for the Republic and the…”

Swiping through the holoscreen, I wander through the various programs or systems, getting a sense of what can be controlled from here in the COR. The answer is pretty much everything — the directory is broken up into the major regions of the Bastion, which branch out into the systems in each one, and then the subsystems within them. Everything from environmental controls to water systems to power distribution to automated defenses to hydroponics to maintenance drones to the Titan hangar to the Foundry to the Tubes to station propulsion and hyperdrives to— to… dirt?

“What in the world is this?” I mumble to myself, staring at an option on the directory tree under the transit tree that simply reads D.I.R.T. Curious, I poke it, expecting that it’ll give me the access denied message. A window opens up, running a facial scan on me, then closes into a message that reads Welcome back, Administrator Kiwi before disappearing. The D.I.R.T. directory option unfolds to fill the holoscreen, the center of the screen filled with a map of the galaxy, while a panel along the side starts listing actions that can be taken within this system.

I stare for a moment, then sit up a little in my chair. This is not what I expected, and from what I can see of the galaxy map, there are hundreds… no, thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of points marked out across the stars, almost like a network of some sort.

“…matter of personnel. We will require more information on this Mask collector, their vessel, and the retinue they may be traveling with so that an appropriate team can be composed and dispatched to assist with the operation. I assume, based on what has been disclosed so far, that Maskling intelligence would prefer this individual captured alive so that further intel can be extracted from them in the event that they are part of a larger organization.” Kaiser states, cold and efficient as always.

“Preferably, yes. If this weed has roots, we want to find out how far they go so we can tear it up completely, and not have to worry about it growing back anytime soon.” Forecast says. “At the end of the day, the Republic will accept the Mask collector dead or alive, but alive is much preferred. As for intel, we’d be happy to share what we know with you during an intelligence briefing where we can discuss the more technical details of the objective.”

“Understood. We will need that before we make any decisions about personnel assignments for this mission.” Kaiser says. “If we are going to be dispatching a team to help with this operation, we should maximize the value we get out of this deployment, since the budget is tight at the moment. I understand that time is of the essence on the deployment, but on the return, I would assume a more leisurely pace that could allow the assigned team to accomplish a few things on the way back to the Bastion. Legaci, are there pending…”

Reaching up, I snag the galaxy map and use two fingers to zoom it in, stars and systems flying past until I reach one of the major arms of the galaxy, then zoom further until I’ve reached one of of the markers. It looks like a sleek, dark satellite in orbit around an inhabited world; a cursor blips to life around the planet, asking if I would like to plan a deployment. Reaching up, I tap on it, and it opens another screen off to the side, containing empty slots for personnel files, and a series of rosters that can be opened up to select people from.

“…not yet made contact with Boaris, and there are indications that—” Legaci says, then stops dead, her head rising from the screen she was looking at. After a second, it swivels around, her gaze locking on me with a mechanical focus. “What are you doing?”

I look up to see everyone in the loose circle turning to look at me. “What? Oh, nothing, I was just pokin’ around the mainframe—”

Legaci’s hologram disappears, instantly manifesting right in front of me, and startling me backwards in my hoverchair a little. She stares at the holoscreen that I’d been messing with, then looks at me, her blue eyes intense and demanding. “How did you access this system?”

“The— the, what, this?” I stammer, scrambling to sit up in my chair a little more. “I just saw the screen sitting around, and I figured I’d check it out—”

“This is the DIRT command console. It requires fifth-layer credentials. How did you access it?” Legaci demands.

“What’s going on?” Tarocco says, pushing her hoverchair backwards a little towards us.

Kaiser stands without a word, walking through the circle and over to us. Arriving to the holoscreen, he adjusts his spectacles as he examines it, reaching out to tap through a few of the windows and buttons. After his cursory examination, he folds his gloved hands behind his back, glancing at Legaci. “Can you check the personnel directory?”

“That’s what I’m—” she starts, then falters. “No, that’s not right. That can’t be right.” After a second, she turns to me, fire in her eyes. “Why do you have administrator privileges?!”

“I— what? I don’t— I don’t understand?” I say, alarmed. “What did I do?”

“What did you do, we’re asking you!?” Legaci demands.

“Has she broken something again?” Forecast says, getting up out of his chair as the others start to migrate in our direction.

“Dad, c’mon!” I complain.

“Quite the opposite.” Kaiser remarks, still examining the holoscreen. “Your… charge appears to have accomplished something confoundingly unique. Evidently she is designated as an Administrator within the Sunthorn mainframe.”

“That can’t be right.” Valkyrie says, coming over. “Administrative designation requires an active Administrator to confer the permissions. The last Administrator of the Challenger program died without designating another Administrator in his stead.”

“I’m not lying, it’s right here!” Legaci says, bringing up another holoscreen, this one with what appears to be a roster with my name at the very top. “She’s listed as an Administrator in the directory!”

“Wait, does that mean we now have access to everything in all five layers?” Sierra asks, her holochair gliding over to where we are as she kicks against the floor.

“Not we. She has access to basically every single function in the Bastion.” Legaci says, pointing at me. “Literally everything. Archives, propulsion, hyperdrives, exotic weapons, defensive countermeasures, drone fleet, protocols, promotions, demotions, northern hemisphere weather patterns, everything down to the bloody lighting color in the public bathrooms — she has access to it!”

“An Administrator has absolute power over and access to Bastion systems and functions. Which raises the question of how, exactly, she managed what should be a singularly impossible feat, considering the previous Administrator’s decidedly sepulchral status.” Kaiser says, turning his cold violet gaze on me.

“Indeed.” Forecast remarks, then glances at me. “Is there something you’d like to share with us, Kiwi?”

“What?” I protest. “I don’t know how or why I ended up with Administrator privi…”

Then I trail off as the encounter from a month ago comes rushing back to me. The red panda Halfie in the grove. The pool, the tree beside it. The lotus flowers floating on the water. Being told to make a wish, then having several suggested for me, before he finally settled on giving me administrative privileges when I turned down the Starstruck offer.

Oh gods, he was being serious.

“Kiwi?” Tarocco says, noticing I’ve spaced out. “Is there something you need to tell us?”

I snap back to the present. “Okay, in my defense, I didn’t know he was being serious, because he was acting like a gremlin the whole time, okay?” I begin. “If I had known—”

“Wait, who is ‘he’?” Drill demands. “Are you telling us there was someone else involved?”

“Yeah, there was this, this, red panda dude, out in one of the glades near the tower. I think. I wasn’t able to find it again—”

“Oh no.” Sierra says, sitting up straighter than a flagpole, then shoving her hoverchair away as she stands. “Oh no. No, tell me you didn’t… did you pick one of the flowers? Did you make a wish?”

I look towards her, startled. “How did you know?”

“You did.” she groans, running her hands through her platinum hair as she starts pacing. “SHIIIIIIT. GodDAMMIT. Son of a BITCH.” She wheels on me. “How many flowers are left?”

“I— I don’t know! I wasn’t there to count flowers!” I retort.

“Uhm. Don’t mean to interrupt or anything, but would anyone like to explain what’s going on?” Cahriu says from where he’s still sitting in his chair, watching all of this. “Because I am really confused right now.”

“Is there something you know that we don’t?” Legaci asks Sierra. “Because you lost me when you started talking about red pandas and flowers.”

“She done screwed up is what she did.” Sierra says, marching towards me. I start to back away, but she grabs my wrist and pulls me up out of the chair. “You’re coming with me. We’ve gotta go figure out how bad the damage is. I knew there weren’t a lot of flowers left when the Bastions went into hibernation fifteen years ago, but we need to know exactly how many are left.”

“Whuh— hey!” I protest as she hauls me towards the door of the COR.

“Where are you two going?” Valkyrie demands. “You still haven’t explained to the rest of us what’s going on!”

“I’ll explain it when we get back! You guys just stay here and do your boring business meeting things while I figure out how close Kiwi’s put us to an existential crisis.” Sierra calls over her shoulder as the door spirals open ahead of us. “And close the DIRT screen! We’re not sending anyone anywhere until we figure this out.”

“What’s going on?” I demand as the door spirals shut behind us. “How did you know about the red panda dude and the flowers?”

“The reason I know about the red panda dude is because he’s a God Eater that the Challengers captured decades ago and imprisoned in the Bastions.” Sierra growls as she strides down the hall, pulling me along. “And part of the enchantment that traps him is a pool of flowers that can be exchanged for wishes.”

“Oh.” I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “And, uhm. What happens when you use up all the flowers?”

Sierra just gives me a searing look with those scarlet eyes.

“Right. Stupid questions.” I say quickly. “We should, uh. Probably go check on that.”

“Yes, we should.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Sunthorn Bastion: Northern Hemisphere

11:18am SGT

“Blockchain? Hey Blockchain, buddy, can you hear me?” I call, plodding through one of the open stretches of grass on the grounds arounds the tower. It’s been almost half an hour, and I’ve been following the tracks left by his massive feet. They roam and wander all over the place, with signs of groundskeeping left in his wake — tall grass that’s been trimmed, overgrown trees that have had their branches hedged, areas cleared of deadfall wood. But I haven’t come across him so far as I’ve been wandering around.

Walking alongside one of the sets of tracks, I follow it to a glade that has path leading into it. It’s not until I step into the shade of the trees that I see Blockchain’s massive, hulking frame seated within, tucked into the trees along the side of the path. There are birds perched on him, though they scatter as I step into the shade, and his recessed, shallow dome of a head swivels towards me, the digital eyes within his visor blinking.

“Hey, here you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.” I say, heading over to him. “Wanted to check in on you and see how things were doing. Takin’ a lunch break?”

He rocks slightly, back and forth, which is his approximation of nodding, since his head unit can’t nod up and down. After that, he lifts one of his hulking arms, a single massive digit pointing to me, then to himself. After that, he uses his fingers to imitate walking legs, before pointing in the direction that the path leads further into the grove.

“You want me to walk with you for a little bit?” I guess. When he rocks back and forth again, I nod and move to the side on the path to give him room to stand up. “Yeah, sure. I can walk for a bit.”

He plans his hands on his massive metal knees, and rises to his full height, lumbering onto the path with me. I turn my hands into my jacket pockets as he starts up a plodding pace; even if his walking speed is slow, his strides are long, and it requires me to walk at normal speed to keep up with him. “How are things going?” I ask him. “Are you still happy with the groundskeeping job?”

Since he can’t rock back and forth while walking, he lifts one of his chunky arms and lifts the gripper digit in a thumbs-up. “That’s good to hear.” I say. “So long as you’re happy with it, I’m happy with it.” I watch the trees passing us by on either side of the path for a bit, enjoying the quiet for a bit. “Things are coming along for the organization. We’re training a new class of recruits. Working on getting funding. Trying to stay relevant in the galaxy. I’m not going to lie; it’s a lot of work. Which isn’t a bad thing, it’s just…” I hesitate against what I’m about to say, then look at Blockchain.

His head swivels towards me, waiting for me to go on, and in a moment of clarity, I realize that he may understand better than anyone else.

“…it’s just not… exactly what I wanted to do with my life, I suppose?” I say, a little more quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone else but Kiwi. And it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop doing what I’m doing; I do it because someone needs to do this kind of work, and I know I’m at least somewhat decent at doing it. But sometimes I just… look around and wonder if I would be happier doing something else, something that I’m good at, that I enjoy. My work right now has purpose; it has meaning, and that’s good. Having a sense of purpose makes you feel fulfilled. But it doesn’t always… make you feel happy, you know?”

Blockchain slows down and stops walking, so he can rock back and forth slightly to indicate a nod. Reaching over, he taps one of his massive, blunt digits to my chest, then clamps one of his hands to an upper arm, as if to indicate muscle or strength.

“Strong heart?” I guess as he starts walking again. “I try. It’s not always easy.” I look around at the light dappling through the leaves, feeling very small for a moment. “Sometimes you wonder what your life would’ve been like if things had been different. If you’d become a singer, or a musician, or an artist, instead of a warrior. Maybe you would’ve created beautiful things, art and songs that would’ve connected with people. But then you realize you wouldn’t have been the person that saved lives here and there; and yet, still… you wish at the back of your mind you’d had a chance at that life. Took the opportunity when it presented, instead of passing it by, even at the cost of the lives you know you’ve changed and saved since then. Is it selfish to want that?”

There’s a clank as Blockchain lifts an arm, carefully lowering a hand to pat the top of my head. I don’t know how to interpret that, except perhaps as pity or sympathy. It’s comforting, in his odd, mute way; he may not be able to offer words, but Blockchain does the best he can with what he has. That patient, listening silence somehow feels a lot more comforting than the way this conversation may have played out with a lot of the other people I know.

“Well. Thanks for listening. I know that might not be what you wanted or expected out of this, but I really do appreciate it.” I say as he starts to slow to a stop at the end of the path. “It means a lot to me, and it really helps to have someone that will just listen sometimes, and not judge. So thanks for that, Blockchain.”

He turns to face me, rocking back and forth slightly, then lifts an arm to motion to where the path opens out into a dipping hollow in the middle of the glade. A stream runs in a loose spiral through the meadow, ending at a pool at the center that has a single warped tree growing beside it with a low, spreading canopy. The knee-length grass within is a dying yellow, browned in some patches, and the trees ringing the edge of the hollow seem to be in the middle of losing their leaves, a patchwork of red, orange, and yellow struggling to cover naked grey branches. It’s very different from the rest of the northern hemisphere’s grounds — almost like it’s a different season here in this glade.

“What is this place?” I ask him, even as I step off the path and over the edge of the hollow. The grass luffs around my ankles as I start down the slope of the hollow, and I realize it’s noticeably colder here — the rest of the northern hemisphere is set to an air temperature that mimics mid-spring, not too cold and not too hot. But here it feels like it’s the tail end of fall, or the beginning of winter.

The sound of Blockchain’s massive footsteps grabs my attention, and I look over my shoulder to see him turning and lumbering back down the path that led us here. “Wait, where are you going?” I call after him, confused. I thought there was a reason for him showing me this place; I didn’t think he’d just turn around and leave once I was here.

“Well, well, well. It’s about time the other half of that dynamic duo showed up.”

The new voice has me turning back around, scanning the hollow. As far as I can tell, there’s no one here, or they must be hidden from view. On reflex, my hand starts to stray towards where my ninjato hilts are hooked on my beltline.

“Dynamic… more like… dysfunctional duo, that’s more interesting, if you ask me.” the voice goes on. It sounds like it’s coming from the center of the hollow, where the pool and the tree are. “Frankly, it probably makes for a better story as well. If you ask me, personally I’d prefer a story about a dysfunctional duo over a story about a dynamic duo. What does dynamic duo even mean nowadays, anyway? It’s such a cliché it’s lost all meaning. Flavorless, like… oatmeal with no additives. Might as well be marketing department vomit. Something you just plaster on a book jacket or a holoposter.”

I move down towards the pool in the center of the hollow, proceeding with caution and keeping a hand on one of my ninjato hilts. On the way there, I jump over the stream winding through the grass; the water looks clear and crisp, at least from what I can tell. “Is there someone there?” I call.

“No, it’s just your imagination.” comes the sarcastic reply. By now I’ve narrowed it down to coming somewhere in the vicinity of the tree beside the pool. “I know you only became a protagonist within the last two years or so, but c’mon, man. Gimme somethin’ to work with here. Where are you getting your lines, from the bargain bin at Cliffhanger’s? Give it some spice, man. Punch it up a bit, put some personality into it.”

I find myself vaguely offended by that, although I’m not entirely sure why. As I near the edge of the pool, I can see that there’s someone sitting on one of the branches that hangs out over the water. From what I can tell, it looks like a red panda Halfie in a hoodie and jeans, reclined against a neighboring branch. He’s holding a sphere about the size of a soccer ball in his blackfurred hands, and although the surface looks like glass, it behaves like water whenever he hooks a finger in it, tugging at the vaporous blue swirls within it.

“Alright then, so who are you?” I say as I stop near the pool’s edge, hoping that’s ‘spicy’ enough for him.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” he says without looking away from the sphere in his hands. “For all of us, really. Who are we? Are we what we choose to be, or are we products of our environment? The people we know, that raised us, that we interact with? A lot of people think that they are who they are because they choose to be that person, but if you really dig into it, we’re often shaped by our environment and the people around us more than we like to admit.”

I let my gaze wander to the lotus flowers floating the pool, then back over to him. “Look, I didn’t come here looking for an existential debate about identity and self-determination. Who are you, and what are you doing here? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around before, and I don’t think you’re one of the new staff we’ve hired on.”

“Of course you’ve never seen me around before. You weren’t a protagonist sixteen years ago, so you would’ve never stumbled across me.” he says, spinning the sphere in one of his hands. It seems like images are floating around in it, but I can’t make them out from here, and I’m hesitant to get any closer than I have to. “That has changed, which is why you are here now. Your time has come; it’s a new generation, a new story. Now, lest I be accused of bias, I should point out that I’ll happily hang with side characters as well; in fact, they’re often more interesting than main characters. But the, ah, circumstances of my residency here come with a few restrictions about who I’m allowed to interact with, and I don’t always get a choice in who gets to drop by.”

“What the hell are you sayin…” I begin, then shake my head. “Wait, hold up! You dodged the entire question!”

“Sure did. Almost got away with it, too.” he grins, blowing a lock of blizzard-white hair out of his bright green eyes. “Seems like you’re not as dense as I thought you’d be.”

I’m quickly starting to realize what kind of person this is, and I don’t like it. “Look, could you just stop it with the games and the riddles, and have a straight conversation with me? I’ll even leave you alone if you’re not a threat. I just need to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”

“Oh, so you want to get down to the nitty-gritty, then?” he says, setting the sphere in the bend of one of the nearby branches, then turning on his bough to face me, those bright green eyes drilling into my soul. “Why don’t we talk about you, in that case. Reluctant hero that’d rather be doing something else; obscenely powerful, and yet still hasn’t explored his full potential. You’ve accrued a vast array of skills, experience, and abilities, and then disappoint me by eschewing their use at nearly every turn. Tell me, what’s the point of having power if you don’t let it corrupt you a little?”

There’s so much to unpack there that I don’t quite know where to begin. “Okay, first: I’m not a hero; second: I’m not powerful; third: you don’t know what my potential is; fourth: I decide how to use my skills and experience, not you; fifth: no, you’re not supposed to let power corrupt you; and sixth: you’re still dodging my question about who you are and why you’re here!”

He pushes off his branch, landing on the ground next to the pond with a springy ease. “You’re not powerful, you say?” he says, folding his hands behind his back as he treads towards me. “You have the audacity to think that you are normal, like everyone else? Or maybe it’s not audacity, it’s denial.” He doesn’t stop when he gets near me, and I fight the urge to step back when he pivots at the last moment, passing to the side and circling around me. “You long so badly to be normal that you willingly downplay your unparalleled potential as a sonic sorcerer. You’re certainly not ignorant of what you’re capable of; I know you’ve dipped your toes in another persona, Blueberry Bubblegum.”

Hearing that name again sends electricity down the back of my neck; I take two sharp steps away from him, my nervous fingers twitching towards the hilt on my beltline. He notices as he completes another circuit around me, and it brings a smirk to his face as he continues circling.

“It’s tempting to go on, to drop more bombs about you, but that would be like having dessert for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All things in moderation, and besides, I believe I’ve made my point.” he says. I’ve starting turning to keep him in view, not trusting him with my turned back. “I find your assertion that you’re not powerful absolutely laughable, if for no other reason than that your feisty little girlfriend believes the very opposite. She believes you’re quite the powerhouse; admires it, but more importantly, envies it. Did you know she asked for power while she was here? Power like yours, ah, what were the words…” He stops, rubbing a knuckle to his chin, then grins and looks at me. If my heart was beating, it would’ve skipped when I hear the next words out of his mouth. “But you can give me the kind of power that Songbird has? When he’s listening to music and has raw power flowing through his veins?”

That’s Kiwi’s voice. Right down to the tone, the inflection, the way she bends her words and drops some of her consonants — a perfect imitation.

He’s a sonic sorcerer as well.

“Ah, there it is. The gears are clicking into place.” he says when he sees my expression, and continues circling around me. “Not so mouthy now, are we, reluctant hero?”

“You better hope to god that if you did anything to my girlfriend, I don’t find out about it.” I warn him, my hand now resting firmly on my ninjato hilt.

He snorts at that, his banded tail lashing. “What god, the one you were raised to worship, but has never answered your prayers? Anaya, who sleeps while her corrupted religion advocates for things she would abhor? You really ought to find a new deity to worship. One that will actually hear your prayers when you send them up.”

I take a deep breath. This is really getting under my skin, but I’m pretty sure that’s the point. Someone like him, I’m pretty sure he feeds off stuff like this, getting people riled up. And if I keep engaging, I’ll just be giving him what he wants. “This is going nowhere, so if you don’t have anything useful to offer me, I’ll gonna leave now.”

“Oh, I have plenty I could offer you. You just haven’t asked.” he says, breaking his next circuit around me to instead head back to his tree. “How would you like to be… human again?”

I had started to turn to leave, but that brings me up short.

I know I shouldn’t give in. I shouldn’t engage. Those are exactly what those words are designed to do: to hook me in, to get me to stay, to engage. I know that; he knows that; and I know I should pretend I didn’t hear him, and just keep walking. And I try to; I start moving again, but only make it a couple steps before turning slightly. “That’s not possible.”

He just keeps walking to his tree without looking back. “Well, if it’s not possible, there’s no reason for us to continue this conversation, then.”

I click my teeth together, fighting the urge to grind them. Running my tongue along the top row, feeling how sharp my canines are, bitterly reminded of an impulsive, emotional decision I’d made eighteen years ago. “You can’t un-turn a vampire; it’s not doable.” I growl at his retreating back.

“Then why are you still here?” he says, reaching up to loft the sphere out of the branch where he’d left it. “Go run along and find something better to do than being tempted by something you lack the imagination to consider.”

I spend another moment fighting with myself, then give in and move a few strides back towards the pool. “To change a vampire back, you’d have to do a complete biological revamp, a genetic overhaul on a scale that even the best labs would struggle with. And not only that—”

“I’d have to remove the arcanological framework that makes it possible, yes.” he interrupts, sticking his claws into a seam in the tree’s trunk, and pulling it open as if it was made of silk. “But not merely that. I would have to remove it without accidentally stripping away or damaging the other arcane predispositions you already possess. It would be a good deal more complicated than many other wishes that could be made, but it’s something I have extensive experience in. Changing people — mind, body, and soul — is a specialty of mine; in fact, there are some who say I may be better at it than anyone else.”

I should not be humoring this, but… “You can change people’s species?”

“Their bodies, their memories, even certain pieces of their souls, yes.” he says, sticking the sphere into the seam in the tree’s trunk. “Creatures of the Dreaming tend to be well-versed in that. There are plenty of people that are not happy with what they are; that yearn to be something else. Plenty of people that wish they could forget certain memories. Plenty of people that are not happy with who they are. I’ve helped many people with all three, though I usually require something in turn.”

“Ah. Right.” I say, shaking my head. “Knew it. There’s the catch.”

He smiles as the seam in the trunk starts to close back up. “You don’t even know what I would ask for in return.”

“I can make a few guesses.” I say, starting to list things off on my fingers. “My soul, or my firstborn child, or however many years of my life…”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “Firstborn child? Yes, I suppose… it sounds cliché, but that might actually be a compelling ask, since vampires can’t have children, and the whole reason you want to be human is because you regret giving up the privilege of having your own children and raising a family. Yes, that would be juicy, wouldn’t it. But in the end, still a little overdone…” He looks around, as if he was mulling it over, before his gaze settles on the pool and the flowers floating on the surface of the water. “…tell you what, I’ll cut you some slack and make it easy, since you’ve given me ample amusement today. Snag one of those flowers for me, and I’ll grant your wish.”

I stare at the pond in disbelief, then at him. “That’s it? All you want me to do is get you a flower and you’ll turn me back into a human?”

He glances at me, arching a white-furred eyebrow. “What, you want me to make it harder?”

“No, I just…” I gesture to the pond. “That’s so simple. You could literally do it yourself; I don’t understand why you need me to do it for you.”

He holds up blackfurred hands. “I’m covered in fur, dude. I don’t like getting wet; it takes me hours to get dry. Plus the water’s cold.”

I let out an incredulous snort. “So you’re just lazy.”

“Do you really care that I’m lazy if it means you get to be human again?” he says, giving me an exasperated look.

“I’m just saying, it seems like you’re settin’ the bar pretty low, but whatever.” I say, starting towards the pool. “Wet socks and boots is a small price to pay for— UMPH!”

Something hits me from the side in a full-on tackle, taking me the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of me. I twist around on reflex, ready to grapple with whatever it is that barreled into me, only to find that it’s Kiwi on top of me. As soon as I’ve got some air back in my lungs, I gasp her name. “Kiwi? The hell are you—”

“He doesn’t have a flower, does he, Kiwi?” I can hear Sierra’s voice getting louder, matching the sound of her boots thumping over the grass.

“No, he’s good, I think we got here just in time.” Kiwi says, running her hands over me as if she was checking for said flower. “Feroce? Are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“The only thing that’s been done to me is you hitting me like a pro-league spaceball frontliner.” I cough, trying to sit up. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“I should’ve known!” Sierra snaps, striding into view and heading straight for the red panda Halfie. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, pulling this shit with people that don’t know any better!”

He just smiles, folding his hands behind his back once more. “Sierra. Long time, no see. How’s the bingo card looking?”

“Don’t you ‘long time, no see’ me, you fluffy menace!” she growls, stopping just short of him. “And you know damn well my bingo card is still incomplete because I never got the chance to bed your sister!”

His smile just stretches wider. “What a shame. But to be fair, if it was easy to bed a higher power, everyone would be doing it. Have you considered trying to seduce some other deity?”

Sierra jabs her forefinger up under the red panda Halfie’s chin. “Don’t get smart with me, fluffybutt. I don’t have hypernaturals on speed dial like you do. And I didn’t think you’d be stirring shit this soon, but here we are. How many wishes have you granted since Sunthorn came out of hibernation?”

The finger under his jaw forces his head to tilt back a little, but his only answer to Sierra’s demand is a shit-eating smirk. Behind him, his fluffy red tail swings back and forth, brushing over the yellowed grass.

Sierra twitches her mouth in a snarl that bares one of her canines. “Was one of those wishes turning Kiwi into a Bastion Administrator?”

“I’m surprised. It took a full month for you guys to realize the level of access she had and where she got it from? You’re slower than I thought you’d be.” he chuckles.

“I’m confused.” I say, guiding Kiwi off of me so I can properly sit up. “Do you know this person, Sierra?”

“Yes. Too well.” Sierra growls digging her finger into the black fur on the underside of the Halfie’s jaw. “This is Solebarr Syntaritov. He’s a Dreamcatcher and a God Eater, and he’s the biggest pain in the ass you’ll ever deal with. He’s also been imprisoned here in the Bastions for the last eight or nine decades. The Challengers caught him back in the day when he was creating problems in the McCorrin System, and we sealed him in the Bastions, which were still under construction at the time. Being trapped here means that he isn’t running loose in the galaxy, creating problems, but it doesn’t keep him from trying to stir shit up here in the Bastions.”

“What can I say. After being stuck in the same meadow for ninety-six years, you find ways to keep yourself entertained.” Solebarr says, reaching up to take Sierra’s finger between two of his, and move it out from underneath his chin. “Besides, you can’t threaten me with anything. I’ve been playing by the rules; it’s impossible not to. The seal wouldn’t allow it, after all.”

Sierra narrows her eyes at him, then looks at Kiwi. “Get him up. We’re leaving.”

Kiwi takes my arm and helps me to my feet, already starting to pull me towards the edge of the hollow. Sierra backs away from Solebarr, pointing at him. “No more hinky shit. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“You can certainly try.” he replies with a smile, watching us go. “Do visit again soon. I quite enjoy the company.”

Neither Kiwi nor Sierra say anything to that, so I figure staying silent is the smart option. We move together to the edge of the hollow, and it’s not until we cross back over into the shade of the trees that either of them say anything.

“There were only two flowers left.” Kiwi says as we start down the path that originally led me here.

“I saw.” Sierra mutters.

I’m still getting my head around it all. “Would anyone like to explain to me what’s going on? Because like. Some of it got explained, but not all of it.”

“Short version is that we have higher power sealed in the Bastions.” Sierra answers, marching down the path. “That pool with the flowers is part of the seal. Each flower can be exchanged for a wish, which is basically like a miracle of some sort. Once all the flowers are gone, though, the seal will break, and the fluffy menace will be unleashed on the galaxy once again.” She stops at this point, glaring at both Kiwi and me. “So if either of you come across him again, don’t pick the flowers, don’t give them to him, and don’t make any wishes. Got it?”

“Look, I didn’t know any of that, and it’s not like he told me any of it.” Kiwi says, holding up her hands. “As far as I knew, he was just a weird dude that liked eating flowers and granting wishes.”

“Yeah, same here.” I add. “He almost tricked me into grabbing one of the flowers by making it seem like it was a discount.”

“A discount?” Kiwi says, giving me a look.

“Yeah, he said normally he’d ask for my soul or my firstborn child, but he was willing to cut me a break and grant me a wish if I’d bring him a flower instead.” I explain.

“And you fell for that?” Kiwi says, astounded.

“Well, I asked him why he couldn’t just grab the flower himself, and he said it was because he has fur and didn’t want to get wet because it takes him hours to dry off, so I just thought he was lazy.” I explain. “And I mean… like, it did kinda make sense the way he was saying it.”

“Yeah, I guess fur thing does make sense, that does take forever to dry out…” Kiwi concedes.

“You’re both idiots.” Sierra says. “Don’t touch the flowers, don’t make wishes.” She turns and starts stalking away again, muttering as she goes. “…mostly because he’s tied into the power grid for each of the Bastions and if the seal breaks and he escapes, we lose most of the power generation capacity for all of the really cool stuff the Bastions can do.”

“Wait, what?” I say, alarmed. “You mean all of the exotic tech relies on him to function?”

“Basically yes. The fusion cores in each Bastion would struggle to power the exotic systems.” Sierra says. “If the seal breaks and he gets free, I’m pretty sure they’ll be off the table. The QE Gates, the DIRT network, the localized wormhole generator, you get the idea. All the neat tricks that the Bastions are known for will be out the window.”

“Look, no offense, but who thought it was a good idea to plug a godlike being into your power grid and then install a bunch of tech that could only work if a godlike being was plugged into your power grid?” Kiwi asks as we follow Sierra down the path.

“Well, it clearly worked for the better part of a century.” Sierra points out. “You see the reputation that the Bastions have at this point. CURSE was willing to fight us tooth and nail to keep us from getting our hands on them. So clearly the Challengers were doing something right.”

“Yeah, but you guys had to know that you were going to run out of flowers eventually, and he’d get free again one day!” Kiwi counters. “Speaking of which, how many flowers did that pool start with? Did it have more than three?”

“It had a hundred.”

“A hundred?” I say incredulously. “What the hell were the wishes being used for? That’s at least one wish a year, or two wishes in some years if you count out the fifteen-year gap that the Bastions were in hibernation!”

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one that was making the wishes!” Sierra says, shrugging aggressively. “I never got to make any of those wishes. Look at your girlfriend; she’s part of that special club of people that put us where we are now.”

“Whoa, hey, that’s not my fault!” Kiwi protests. “I’ve already told you, I didn’t know who he was or what he could do! If I’d known you guys were keeping a Dreamcatcher in your basement and using him as a living battery, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of his shenanigans!”

“Well, it’s too late now.” Sierra says, her pace not slowing. “We can’t undo what’s been done, so we might as well make the most of it. Let’s get back to the tower. Now that we have access to all of the Bastion’s systems, this massively opens up our options. We’ll be able to do a lot more with a lot fewer people, which is good since we’re still shortstaffed. And since you’re an Admin now, you can raise other people’s security clearances and give them access to certain systems in the Bastion, so we’ll need you to do that for all the command staff in the Valiant, Kiwi. We’ll finally be able to move this floating palace to more populated systems, where it’ll be easier to and quicker to get supplies, recruit staff, and respond to crises.”

“At least we’ve gotten something out of it?” I say, glancing at Kiwi and hoping that makes her feel better about the whole thing.

“I just can’t believe that out of all the things you could’ve wished for, you wished for administration permissions.” Sierra mutters.

“Well, what was I supposed to ask for?” Kiwi retorts. “I don’t need money, I don’t want fame, so the only thing left was power!”

“Power? If you wanted real power, you could’ve asked him to turn you into a Dragine, or a demigod, or a Starstruck, or something like that!”

“I told him once already and I’ll say the same thing to you: I’m not interested in a frilly stargirl uniform, no matter how much power it gives me!”

“Wait, he offered to turn you into a Starstruck?”

“DON’T, Feroce. Not a word.”

“I mean, I would’ve been interested in seeing how you look in o— OW! Okay okay okay, point taken!”

Challenger Mainframe

Login: Kiwi, Administrator

Root Directory

>biometrics authenticated

>personnel directory: edit

>>edit: clearance

>>move to level 5 clearance:

>>>sierra_molossus

>>>jacqueline_kasherta

>>>kaiser

>>>>level 5 designation confirmed

>>move to level 4 clearance:

>>>tony

>>>lucanthiline

>>>>level 4 designation confirmed

>>move to level 3 clearance:

>>>renchiko_chamako

>>>tarocco

>>>cahriu

>>>midnatt

>>>sol

>>>jaree_leafly

>>>forecast

>>>>level 3 designation confirmed

>>edit: succession

>>apply designation: administrator

>>>applied to dorol_oberell

>>>applied to legaci_crane

>>>…

>>>…

>>>applied to feroce_acceso

>>>>administrator designations confirmed

>>edit: clearance display

>>hide clearance:

>>>feroce_acceso

>>>>clearance display concealed

>save root changes?

>>changes saved; root directory updated

Event Log: Kiwi

Sunthorn Bastion: Songbird and Kiwi’s Apartment

7:51pm SGT

“Hey darling, dinner’s ready!”

I lean back from the holoscreen that I’ve got open in front of me, biting my lip as I weigh what I’m about to do. After a moment of doubt, I type in the confirmation for the order I’d just put in, and hit enter; once I see that the changes have saved, I quickly close the screen. Pushing off the couch, I walk around it, and into the kitchen, where Songbird is finishing putting plates and glasses out on the table.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” I ask as I head to the fridge, pulling out the iced water while he puts a trivet on the table to hold what looks like a steaming bowl of chunky, yellow-and-orange sauce. “It smells kinda… fruity.”

“Vashaya’reian taziri. It’s pineapple and chicken curry, with basmati rice. I kept the spice level low to make sure it doesn’t clash with the pineapple. I mean, the heat usually cooks away a lot of the pineapple’s acidity, but, didn’t want to take any chances. Lots of spice and pineapple acid don’t mix well, in my experience.” he says, leaving one of the oven mitts on the table in case any of the dishes need to be moved around. “We’ve got some butter rolls in the oven for the side, but they’ll need another five minutes. They’re not quite done yet.”

I fill my glass with ice water, then fold my arms and lean back against the fridge as I close it. “You tryin’ to get laid tonight?” I say, sipping from my glass.

“Wha?” he says, looking up from setting the table, his eyes wide. “No, just… figured you’d like something nice after the day we’ve had.”

“Most guys would’ve done twenty-minute enchiladas and called it a day. And most girls would’ve soaked their panties, seeing a guy make them something this fancy.” I smirk at him.

“Oh… oh, I mean, it’s not really that fancy.” he demurs as he straightens up. “It’s just… exotic. People don’t try vashy dishes all that often, but this wasn’t hard to make. Just need to keep an eye on the curry, really, to make sure it thickens properly; the rice is practically fire-and-forget, once you’ve got it in the rice cooker. It’s just the prep work that takes the most time…”

“ ‘It’s not fancy’, he says, after making me egg drop soup the other day.” I chuckle. “Feroce, you realize that if I was living on my own, I’d be eating cereal and canned soup for most of my meals, right?” I nod to the spread laid out on the table. “You might not be a five-star chef, but to me, this is fantastic. This is so far above anything I’d be eating on my own.”

If he wasn’t a vampire, I’m pretty sure I’d see him blushing. As it is, he gives a bashful shrug and a smile. “Aw. Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

“Well, I haven’t tried this yet, but if it’s anything like the other stuff you’ve made for me over the past month, I’m pretty sure I’ll like it too.” I say, moving over to the table and pulling out a chair to sit down. “Like don’t get me wrong, but men usually aren’t this good at cooking. And I’m double surprised, because you’re a vampire and the only thing you need is blood, so I figured you wouldn’t be doing all that much cooking. But you’re really good at it. Where’d you learn that?”

“It’s a family thing.” he says while grabbing a couple of serving spoons. “My grandfather was Moksan, from one of the Rantecevang colonies. Was poor when he was young; him and his siblings had to run from a war, and they ended up as refugees on a world that wasn’t equipped to handle the humanitarian response. There were times in his childhood when he and his siblings had to survive by stealing bananas off trees in the neighbors’ yards, and when things got really tight, they had to catch and eat lizards.” Pulling out a chair, he sits down, setting each serving spoon into each serving dish. “So having ready access to food was a big deal for him when he got into the COS military and started a family after that. And it wasn’t just the access to food, but the variety and choice that were available to you. That’s one of the biggest things that my grandfather loved about becoming a Confederacy citizen — the food security that was available in a Colloquium member nation.” He shrugs, smiling at me. “And that’s how our family shows love for one another. Making good food is an act of love for the people you care about.”

I listen while I’m scooping some rice, then draping the curry over it. “I wish I had history like that sometimes. It must be nice to know where you came from; why you grew up the way you did.”

“Forecast has never told you anything about where you came from?” he asks, taking a much smaller portion than me. Since he doesn’t get any nutritional value out of the food, he keeps his portion sizes small, and does what he calls ‘social eating’ — eating so that the other person at the table doesn’t feel awkward eating alone. “Does he not know, or…?”

“I think he knows where I came from. But he’s never told me, and I’ve got a suspicion the Council might have something to do with it, wanting to keep the information secret.” I say, stirring the curry into the rice. “They’ve put up with my shit all these years and still want to hold my strings, so they must know something about me that I don’t. If I were them, I would’ve lost patience with me a long time ago.”

He’s quiet for a bit, mulling that over as he eats, then speaks up again. “Does it ever bother you? Not knowing where you came from?”

“It does, but I don’t let it get to me.” I answer. “I’ve asked both Forecast and the Council multiple times and they refuse to say anything, or dodge the question. If I linger on it, it bothers me, so I try not to think too much about it. I just focus forwards, on the future and what I have now. Speaking of which.” I take a moment to swallow the mouthful I’ve got right now, then go on. “You’re okay with everything that happened today, right? And with… what I did?”

He glances at me. “You mean the whole thing with giving everyone rank clearance and you having administrative access?” There’s a pause, as if he was gathering his thoughts on it, before he continues. “It was… a lot. I suppose it isn’t surprising, how heated people got about their security clearances, but it still took me off guard. I didn’t expect everybody to be arguing over it for hours, but it makes sense, since it’s a foundational issue for the organization. And as for what you did, well… I mean, it’s not like you knew, right? That red panda dude — well, I suppose he’s not a dude, he’s what, a god or something?”

I scrunch my nose at that. “Sierra said he was a few things. The one I can remember is a God Eater, whatever that’s supposed to be. I didn’t follow up on it, since it seemed kinda self-explanatory.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever he is, he’s clever and dangerous and really good at what he does. And it’s not like you knew that making a wish would put him one step closer to getting free. He didn’t tell you, and he obviously didn’t tell me, so it’s not like we could’ve been expect to know what we were risking.” he says. “Maybe if I hadn’t met him myself, I would’ve judged what you did a bit differently… but since I met him, I get it. He’s persuasive, knows how to hook you and pull you in. Like working a fish on the end of a line. So no, I don’t blame you. Honestly, if you and Sierra hadn’t showed up when you did, I’m pretty sure I would’ve fallen for it too.”

The tension leaves my shoulders at that. “Thanks. Today was rough, after getting chewed out like four times. Like, I’m used to getting raked over the coals by Forecast and other ranking officers in the Knight Corps, but it’s still no fun—”

He reaches over the table, taking my hand. “It’s okay. Nobody’s perfect.” he says, smiling. “I’ve got your back.”

That simple gesture has a feeling swelling in my chest that is hard to control or push down. I have to take a deep breath, brushing my thumb at the corner of my eye as I blink a couple times. “You’re silly.” I mutter, clearing my throat a little. “But, uh, yeah. I appreciate it. So, uhm! Why don’t you tell me more about what all this means? I can basically do anything and control everything in the Bastion? And what’s all the fuss about some of this other stuff you guys were talking about? There was a thing about dirt, and then kooey gates?”

“One question at a time.” he chuckles, letting my hand go. “But yes, the Administrator or Administrators have full control over the Bastions. Not just that, but control and access to every Challenger facility, vessel, machine, and system. You have a lot of power at your disposal now, which is why the leadership was so agitated. It’s good that we now have access to the Bastion’s full capabilities, but access to those capabilities needs to be carefully managed, because some of them can be very destructive.”

“Yeah, I was getting that feeling. Like Valkyrie and Legaci wanted me to surrender my Administrator designation and give it to someone else.” I mutter, scooping some pineapple, chicken, and rice. “They didn’t say anything, but I could feel it in the way they were talking and looking at me. Like someone had given a juvenile delinquent the key to the city.”

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t have been anyone’s first choice for Administrator. Typically you want an exceptional person in that role. Not that you’re not exceptional!” he says quickly. “But it’s a role that usually asks a lot. Administrator is what you’d consider the leader of the organization that controls the Bastions — and all the responsibility and expectations that comes with that. It’s a lot of power, but it’s not a position I’d want, what with all the pressure that comes with it.”

I pause at that. “But if you did end up with Administrator privileges… would you? Handle it, I mean. Or would you try to give them away to someone else?”

He rocks his fork on his plate a little, looking down at his portion. “I think someone else would probably be better for the job. I’ve got a lot of baggage. But if there was no one else that would or could do it, I’d… do the best I could if I was given something like that. Be the best leader I could be, until a better leader came along.”

I relax a little, though he doesn’t notice it. “You’re probably better for the job than a lot of other people would be. I know for sure you’d be a better candidate than me.” Shoveling more of the taziri in my mouth, I move the topic on before we can linger on it. “Alright, so tell me about the other stuff. What’s the deal with the dirt?”

“Ah. That.” he says, getting up and going to the oven to pull out the biscuits. “So what they were referring to was the DIRT network. You remember how it seemed like Challengers used to respond to crises almost instantly back in the day? The nearest Challenger ship could be hundreds or even thousands of lightyears away, but we could have Challengers planetside within hours of being alerted?”

I watch as he sets the biscuit pan on the counter and starts cutting them into neat little squares. “Not really? Like… I do remember that it seemed like Challengers were everywhere, but I didn’t really see a lot about their response times.”

“Well. Probably wasn’t something people were keeping track of at the civilian level, but on the military and governmental level, nations and major corporations definitely noticed that we could drop our people on a planet thousands of lightyears away, basically on the turn of a dime.” he explains. “That’s why so many groups and nations tried to get into the Bastions for so long, and why CURSE tried so hard to get ahold of them after the program was shuttered. And it’s also why they fought so hard to keep us from getting them back when the Valiant formed. The Bastions are the keystone of the DIRT network.”

“Okay, yeah… but that doesn’t explain why dirt is so important to it.” I say, pausing for a sip of my water.

“Oh, that’s— sorry. DIRT is an acronym. It stands for Deploy Instant Response Team.” he explains, bringing the biscuits over after setting a hotpad down on the table for the pan. “Each Bastion has a complex DIRT array, and a chamber we call a launchpad, that allows us to transport squads and teams across the galaxy in a matter of seconds. We can’t just send them anywhere — a planet has to have a DIRT satellite in orbit in order for us to send a team to that world. But the DIRT network refers to the constellation of DIRT satellites in orbit around worlds across the galaxy. I think there’s a DIRT satellite in orbit around basically every world that has a population of more than a million people. And there’s DIRT satellites in orbit around uninhabited or low-population worlds that the Challenger program deemed sufficiently important to warrant a satellite.”

“Really?” I say, taking one of the buttermilk rolls and ripping it open so it can let steam out, and start to cool. “That sounds like something that… a lot of nations would be very not okay with.”

“You are correct. Which is why almost nobody outside of the Challenger program knew about the DIRT network, and how it worked.” he agrees. “On top of that, all of the DIRT satellites were designed and manufactured with visual cloaking and passive scan stealth. The network, as it currently exists, was put in place without the knowledge or consent of any of the worlds that are now a part of it, and as far as I’m aware, the vast majority of worlds that are part of the network still have no idea they’ve got an invisible Challenger satellite zipping around in orbit.”

“How does it work, though?” I ask, mulling that around in my head. “Even bridge drives still take days to get you from one spot to another. Even longer with a tunnel drive, and even longer than that with a warp drive. Moving people across the galaxy in a matter of seconds is… well, you know the pun’s coming, but it’s lightyears ahead of any current hyperdrive technology.”

He shakes his head, tearing a roll of his own. “I couldn’t say. I can tell you the parts that are needed for it to work — the satellites, the launchpad, the array — but I don’t think anyone below Level 5 clearance knew the science behind it. And even if we did, it’d probably be something super complicated and hard for a normal person to understand. All we know is that it worked so long as you had the clearance and knew how to operate it.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.” I say, dipping my biscuit in the curry. “That kind of technology getting out into the galaxy would change everything. Transportation, freight shipping, combat, everything.”

“Yeah, well. Even if the rest of the galaxy did know how it works, I’m not sure they’d be able to use it.” he says. “The energy cost is probably prohibitive, considering we can only use the DIRT network when we literally have a captured god plugged into the Bastion power grid. At least according to Sierra.”

“I still can’t believe someone thought that was a good idea.” I say, taking a bite of my torn biscuit. It tastes good with the curry sauce. “So as soon as the last wish is made and the seal breaks, that’s it? He gets free and the Bastions become just like any other orbital fortress? No special tricks, no exotic tech?”

“Seems like it, based on how Sierra put it.” he says, following my lead and dipping his biscuit in the curry. “We’ll still have a lot of exotic tech that we can use on the small scale, since the Challenger program did a ton of research into experimental science throughout its history. But the big stuff integrated into the Bastions — without our prisoner powering it, it’s probably gonna grayscreen.”

“Why didn’t they just seal him indefinitely?” I point out, still mulling it over. “Why go through the trouble with the flowers, and the wishes, and all that nonsense?”

“Beats me.” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe that wasn’t an option, or they had to do it a certain way. You know how magic can be; there’s all sorts of weird rules and obscure traditions, regardless of the system you’re using.”

“Yeah, fair point.” I concede, absentmindedly rubbing my wrist. “Alright, well. Tell me about these kooey gates.”

He grins at that. “QE gates. The QE is short for quantum entanglement. Each Bastion has a set of doorways, of freestanding thresholds, that appear to lead to nowhere — but when they’re activated, you can walk through one and come out the other side in another Bastion. Back in the day it’s how we would do personnel and equipment transfers between Bastions. Got a mission that needs more soldiers or a different Challenger team comp? Just transfer them from one Bastion to another. The Titan hangar downstairs even has a giant QE gate down there, in case you suddenly need to deploy a giant mech and you don’t have any in reserve at your current Bastion.”

“Huh.” I say, corralling my rice into a neat little pile on my plate. “So all the stuff that made the Challengers so scary, that CURSE wanted to get their hands on, wasn’t the weapons tech? It was the ability to almost instantly deploy people and resources days or weeks before anyone else could respond.”

“Transportation, yeah.” he confirms. “Feels weird sayin’ it, but that’s the biggest advantage the Challengers had at their disposal. They could almost always get there before anyone else could. Of course, there were limits — with the DIRT network, we can only send people. We can’t bring them back, because that requires deploying a DIRT array on each planet in the network, which runs the risk of other people finding it and using it, possibly for bad intentions. Plus it would be crazy expensive. The only DIRT arrays are in the Bastions, so only the organization that controls the Bastions can use them.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” I say while chewing. “So if you can only send people, I guess you have to send a ship to go pick them up afterwards? Or you have to have one in the area to go pick them up and bring them back.”

“Pretty much. That’s where the Challenger fleet came in. The program maintained a large fleet of small, fast cruisers for that reason.” he says, pushing his finished plate to the side. “The fleet had larger ships, obviously. A few battlecruisers, some destroyers, a scattering of frigates and diplomatic vessels, all state of the art. But the bulk of the fleet was small, fast cruisers that were light on weapons and shields, and heavy on engines, drives, and passenger space. We’d have them positioned within range of population centers across the galaxy, ready to go pick up teams that had been deployed through the DIRT network. Sometimes we’d use them to help with evacuations for civilian worlds affected by crisis.”

“Damn. You guys had a whole setup for all this.” I say, finishing my taziri.

“Yeah, used to. I think it’s all gone now.” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Back when the program shuttered, I think CURSE ended up seizing a lot of our fleet assets. At best, I think we’ve got like one battlecruiser left, maybe a couple of destroyers, and a handful of speed cruisers. The rest of the fleet is under CURSE’s control, and I think they sold off some of the ships to interested corporations or nations because they didn’t have enough ship crew to staff them. Basically anything that wasn’t locked up in a Bastion, CURSE had a good shot at seizing it.”

“But now that we’ve got Administrator privileges, do you think we could get them back?” I ask as he gets up and starts to clear his dishes.

“Maybe? I’m not sure. I’ve got a feeling that CURSE would’ve safeguarded against that, reprogrammed the ships they captured so that a Challenger with sufficient clearance wouldn’t be able to come back and just override the captain and crew.” he says, glancing at me. “Did you want any more, or should I start boxing these up for later?”

“I’m good.” I say, taking a sip of my water. “It was good, though. I’ll probably be having the leftovers tomorrow.”

He smiles. “Better you than me. At least you’ll get some nutrition out of it.”

I smile in return, watching as he takes up the dishes and heads over to the counter. I’m about to stand and help him clean up, but I stay for a moment, sipping my water and watching as he starts pulling storage containers out of the cabinet. It’s rare, but he’s got his hoodie off, and seeing him in just a t-shirt and jeans seems so… normal that it just feels strange. It’s a loose t-shirt, but the way it drapes, I can see hints of the muscle underneath. He’s not bulky or buff, but without his hoodie or jacket to hide behind, you can tell he’s built like a predator — lean and strong at the same time, economical and flexible. There’s also a smooth, catlike grace to the way he handles things — the way he flips one of the containers around, peels the lid off, slides it across the counter once it’s full, then tugs the next one towards himself with only a couple fingers. Efficient, and yet the way his hands move, it seems almost like he’s playing with it.

He eventually notices me staring as he’s finishing with boxing up the leftovers. “Something up?” he asks as he closes the fridge.

I give him a lazy smile. “Just admiring how sexy my boyfriend is.”

“Me? Sexy? Perish the thought.” he chuckles, pausing to look down at his jeans and t-shirt. “I’m not exactly red-dress material right now.”

“You don’t need to be. I just like… watching you. How you move. How you are when you’re like this. Relaxed, I suppose.” I take a sip of my water, hooking an arm over the back of my chair. “You’re always so stiff and guarded around other people, but in here, you loosen up. You look more relaxed, more happy.”

“I suppose I do relax more in the apartment.” he says, turning on the water in the sink and grabbing the sponge so he can start washing the dishes. “It’s just the two of us here, and when I’m alone with you, I feel…” He pauses, as if he was searching for the word while the water gargles in the sink. “…I feel safe.”

I tilt my head at that. “The most dangerous man in the galaxy only feels safe when he’s alone with his girl?”

“It’s not that, it’s…” he stutters, scrubbing at the serving dish before setting it in the drying rack in the other half of the sink. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself the most dangerous man in the galaxy, but even so… I figure even the most dangerous man in the galaxy would still want to feel safe and comfortable.”

“And I make you feel safe?” That comes as a shocker to me. I know I’ve made my various partners feel many things over the years, but safe was never one of them.

“You do. You don’t hate me for what I’ve done, what I’ve been involved in.” he says, quietly scrubbing away. “For the Songbird Incident, or for causing the fall of the Challenger program. You don’t care about those things the way other people do. You actually see me, who I am, instead of the things I’ve done. You see Feroce, not Songbird.” He’s quiet for a moment, then goes on ever more softly. “I don’t get to be Feroce with… anyone else, really. I have to be Songbird most of the time because that’s who people see when they look at me.”

I start to reply, to tell him that I treat him like any other person, then pause and realize that might be the point. I treat him normally when nobody else does. It doesn’t seem like a big thing to me, but I suppose, with the life he’s lived up until this point, feeling and being treated normally is something he doesn’t get to enjoy.

Setting my glass down, I get up, moving around the table to wrap my arms around him from behind. The washing of the dishes slows down a little as he turns his head a bit. “Sorry. Am I being too sentimental or sappy?” he apologizes.

“No, it’s okay. I like the fact that… I get to see a side of you no one else gets to see.” I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. “But I know that’s hard for you. And if I could, I would make people see that you’re Feroce, and not just Songbird.”

I can see the corner of his mouth curl upwards a little. “I know you would.” His head tilts back down as he goes back to rinsing out the serving dish he has in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve got much of a choice in it, though. Most of the galaxy sees me as Songbird, for better or worse, and I don’t think that’ll ever change. But I think I can live with that, so long as I get to be Feroce when I’m with you.”

“You can be whoever you want to be when you’re with me.” I mumble, rocking a little from side to side. “Whether that’s the legend that everyone’s scared of, or the quiet guy that likes holopainting and music. I’m okay with both sides of you.” Taking my chin off his shoulder, I tug the collar of his t-shirt down a little. “Although, after the day you’ve had, you could probably stand to get some of that pent-up tension out of your system…” I press a light kiss to the back of his neck, and then another one slightly lower.

“Khh!” I can feel him suddenly tense up, a fork clattering into the sink as his back arches a little, and a shiver runs up his spine at the light, feathery touches. His head turns a little as he braces a hand on the sink’s edge. “Okay, now you’re playin’ with fire…”

“Ohhhh?” I grin, leaning back a couple inches. “That was quite a reaction.”

“I’m not accustomed to people gettin’ up on the back of my neck, it’s a… new sensation.” he mutters.

“Mm. Well, maybe you should get a little more acquainted with it.” I murmur, leaning in again to exhale against the back of his neck, then plant a quick kiss there.

That gets another shudder out of him, and he turns off the water in the sink, dropping the sponge as he turns around and tries to snag me. “C’mere, you lewd little gremlin—”

I cackle, keeping my arms wrapped around him and twisting with him when he tries to turn around. “Hey, I’m not the one getting hot and bothered by neck kisses!”

“Ah, you’re such a brat! Hold still!”

“What, and make it easy for you? As if!”

“I’m starting to think you were projecting when you asked me if I wanted to get laid tonight— get over here—”

“Haha! Too slow! C’mahn, do you want it or not?”

“Oooh, you’re about to find out…”

“Come and get it, then!”