Valiant

[Valiant #30: Sunthorn]

Log Date: 10/7/12764

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Kiwi

Event Log: Kiwi

M.V. Nyroc: Bridge

9:29am SGT

“I’ve never been to a Bastion before.” I smirk, glancing aside to Songbird. We’re both standing on the bridge of the Nyroc, the immersive screens around us showing the tangled darkness of tunnelspace as we ride along its filaments. “Hope it lives up to all the legends.”

Songbird’s ruby eyes stray to me. He smiles, but doesn’t say anything; it’s a smug silence, one that speaks volumes since he’s not usually the smug sort.

“You will, of course, be on your best behavior.” Forecast says from the captain’s chair. “As one of the newest agents of the Valiant, you represent the Maskling race, along with Tarocco and Cahriu. Both of them have laid good foundations with the organization; the Council expects you to build on that, not to ruin it.”

I roll my eyes. “Please, I’m not gonna torpedo my new posting on my first day. Not after all the trouble I went through to get it. Give it… I dunno, six months, maybe more.”

“This is not a joking matter, Kiwi. The Council’s concession to let you join the Valiant was a tenuous one, and predicated on getting the Valiant’s help with pursuing a matter that is important to the Republic. You need to make this work; if you risk it with your usual flippancy, I will not be able to convince the Council to give you this sort of freedom again.”

I huff at that. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll behave.” While I don’t like acknowledging it, Forecast has a point. I had to fight tooth and nail to get this posting. I would have to treat at least some of it seriously, or risk losing the freedom I’d fought so hard for.

“We’ll be coming out of tunnelspace in just a moment.” the navcom officer announces to the rest of the bridge.

“Comms, make sure we’re broadcasting identification the moment we exit tunnelspace.” Forecast orders. “We want to make sure we don’t startle the Valiant. I’d rather not test the Bastion’s defense array.”

“Acknowledged.” the comms officer replies.

“Tunnelspace exit in ten.” the navcom officer states. Ahead of us, the tangled filaments of tunnelspace start to clot together, forming a breach that opens back into real space. A bassy thrum resonates through the ship as we pass through the breach, gliding back out along the underside of a planetary ring circling an icy blue gas giant.

“Damn.” I say, staring up at the ceiling as the immersive display shows the rings passing overhead. “Hell of a view. Don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a ring system before.”

“You wouldn’t be able to get this close in an open-space system.” Songbird says, staring up along with me. “Ring systems are often considered natural wonders of the systems they’re in. Major tourist destination. So the nation that controls the system usually sets up a no-fly zone around the ring system, to keep tourists from doing stupid shit like surfing the rings or diving through them.”

“I mean, that sounds pretty cool. Surfing the rings.” I say, studying the hundreds of lines that run through the ring, marking lower and higher-density areas of it.

“Cool, yes. But it’s also vandalism. Having people skimming low over the rings, fishtailing around and diving through them, leaves all sorts of ugly marks like furrows and holes in them.” Songbird explains. “It may be fun for the people doing it, but it ruins the natural beauty for everyone else. So to preserve them, hundred-mile no-fly zones are usually established around the top, bottom, and visible edges of the ring, so everyone can keep enjoying the beauty for centuries to come. The only reason we’re so close to this ring is because we’re in a dark space system that no one controls.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” I say, looking over my shoulder to see how far away the rings stretch behind us. “They’re so huge. You don’t realize how big they are until you’re up close like this.”

“Roughly fifty thousand miles across, from inner edge to outer edge.” Forecast says, folding one leg over the other. “Wider than the diameter of most rocky planets.”

“And we’re just a pinprick against that.” Songbird agrees. “If we could see our ship from a distance, we’d be a speck of black against a massive backdrop of blue rings. A grain of dust in the dark.”

“We’re coming up on the inner edge of the ring.” the navcom officer announces as the Nyroc starts firing some of its directional thrusters so that the cruiser’s nose is pointed towards the ring at an angle, even as we continue moving parallel to it. “Will be firing thrusters shortly to bring us up around the ring’s topside.”

“Think most of our ID broadcast is getting screened out by the ring, sir.” the comms officer says to Forecast. “Once we’re up over the edge, they should be receiving us loud and clear.”

“They’ll know we’re here already.” Songbird says. “Bastion sensor arrays are extremely sensitive, and Legaci wouldn’t have positioned Sunthorn where it would have blind spots.”

“Oh yeah. How did you guys manage to get into this one?” I ask. “I heard that the one Bastion that was actually found by CURSE was basically impenetrable. You couldn’t get within a thousand miles of it without getting nailed by a mass driver, and trying to attack it from a distance didn’t work because it was too well-defended. And also because it’d return fire on you if you tried.”

“Legaci managed to crack the third layer of the archive and get us the access codes for the Bastions.” Songbird says as the Nyroc’s thrusters kick on, starting the burn that will take us up over the edge of the ring. “A ship broadcasting an access code can get within the perimeter without getting turned into space debris. It’s one of the only ways to get into a Bastion while it’s in siege lockdown, the other being an administrator’s code or another high-ranking officer code.”

“Sweet. So now you guys don’t have to spend all your time running from CURSE or the Vaunted. You’ve got a safe haven where no one can bother you.” I say, watching as we start to inch past the edge of the ring. Though planetary rings look thin from a distance, they’re actually kinda thick when you get up close — the ring itself is a scattered field of space rocks and dust that’s about ten, fifteen stories thick.

“Just because it’s safe doesn’t mean people won’t try to bother us.” Songbird says, tucking his hands in his pockets. “We’ve had plenty of visitors in the last month. CURSE kept a ship parked outside of the perimeter for a few months until they figured out we still didn’t have the command codes, and so the Bastion wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon. They left after that, but tried to leave behind some monitoring buoys to keep an eye on us. We went out and cleaned those up, and they came back and left more of them, but further away… and we went out and cleaned those up too. It’s become a back-and-forth thing; they’ll come back every few weeks, try to hide buoys behind planets or in Lagrange points, and we’ll go out and clean them up as soon as we find them.”

“Sounds annoying.”

“It is. But if we don’t clean them up, then they’ll be able to track the arrival and departure vectors of any ships arriving to Sunthorn, and then trace it back to a point of origin and possibly try to set up ambushes.” he explains. “So we’ve got to keep them cleaned up until we can get the command codes to the Bastions, which will allow us to actually move them. We’ve also had a couple of corsair groups swing by to snoop around, probably looking for easy pickings, but we put our foot down on that. A couple of crippled frigates will probably send a message to Myrrdicato’s pirates about giving the Bastions wide berth.”

“And here we are.” the navcom officer announces as the Nyroc curves up around the inner edge, starting to glide over the vast blue expanse of the rings encircling the planet. “We have visual on the Bastion. It’s that little spot of white way up ahead of us, in orbit a few hundred miles above the ring.”

I squint at the immersive display around us. I think I know what I’m supposed to be looking at, but it’s hard to tell it apart from the rest of the star-speckled cosmos beyond the gas giant. “Is that it? I thought it would be bigger.”

“Oh trust me, it’s big.” Songbird reassures me. “We’re still several thousand miles out. Once we get closer, you’ll see.”

“We’ve got a good channel out to the Bastion, Captain.” the comms officer announces. “They have received our ID and confirmed our codes. We have been given landing permissions and authorization to enter the defense perimeter.”

“Follow the landing corridor they’ve given you.” Forecast says. “Give them our regards, and let them know we’re here to return the Agent they so generously allowed us to borrow for a month or so.”

“Navcom, how long’s’it gonna take us to reach the Bastion at this speed?” I ask.

“Factoring in the distance along with the deceleration required with our current velocity, we should be arriving in just a little over fifteen minutes.” the navcom officer answers. “Landing will likely take another five minutes.”

I puff a breath at that. “Man, I ain’t gonna stand here for fifteen minutes watching a white dot get bigger. I’m gonna hit the break room and grab something to snack on. Dad, Songbird, you want anything?”

“I’ll pass, thank you.” Forecast declines.

Songbird reaches into his tattered longcoat and pulls out the flask I gave him over half a year ago, wiggling it at me. “Refill? I’ve found this strawberry-kiwi flavor has been growing on me.”

I grin, reaching out to snatch the flask from him. “That’s what I like to hear.” Turning about, I make my way to the bridge’s door, waving over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Intercepted Communications

Sunthorn Bastion, local text thread, 2 participants

Maskling Moocher (MM): Yeah, we’ll be landing in the next five mins or so. Also why did you change my name on our comms system? Nobody’s going to know who I am.

The All-Seeing Eye (TASE): you’re kidding me, right

TASE: there’s literally only one person on this mobile fortress that has a raging boner for Masklings and I’m texting him right now

MM: I don’t have a ‘raging boner for Masklings’, I just like Kiwi. The transitive property doesn’t apply here.

TASE: you literally crossed the galaxy to go to the Maskling homeworld and badger their government to let you have your girlfriend back

TASE: if that doesn’t count as a raging boner then I don’t know what does

MM: Whatever, can you change my name back? Or at least change it to something less cringey?

TASE: sure, I got a ton of them

TASE: try that one on for size

Cotton Candy: Seriously?

TASE: you’re asking for it, pairing that pink hoodie with your shade of hair. what do you think you are, some kind of anime protagonist

Cotton Candy: Why do you get a cool name while I get all these cringey names?

TASE: bcuz I’m awesome, and also I’m running this entire mobile fortress and keeping your asses safe from literally everything, including yourselves. also you all still owe me a Synthetic frame

TASE: how about that one, I got it from Cahriu

Blues Clues: Better…ish.

TASE: you’re so picky. fine, how about this one? Inoffensive enough for you?

Bluebird (BB): Yeah, this one’s good. I can live with this.

TASE: good. Fashionista just got back, and he’s going to want to get a tailoring session with you as soon as you’re available. he saw your longcoat in one of the recent clips up on the net and did a line of twitchleaf on the spot before going on a six-minute rant about how you’re an affront to the entire fashion industry

BB: That better be a joke.

TASE: what, the rant, or the twitchleaf?

BB: The twitchleaf. Is he seriously doing drugs on the station?

TASE: hey, don’t look at me. Sierra’s the one that’s letting it slide

BB: This is ridiculous! The Valiant are supposed to be role models, not enabling a psychotic fashion diva’s drug abuse. Does Valkyrie know?

TASE: we’re not enabling it! the guy is buying his own drugs. where from, I’ve got no idea. we’ve screened everyone and everything coming into Sunthorn. I’ve done background checks on everybody that’s currently on the station. he literally disappeared for two days, then reappeared with a bunch of drugs. when I asked him where he’d been, he said that he was tailoring clothes for a demon lord

TASE: then he did another line of twitchleaf

TASE: also Valkyrie doesn’t know yet

BB: Tailoring clothes. For a demon lord.

TASE: yeah I think he was high and might’ve been hallucinating

BB: I can’t even with him. Confiscate his drugs if you can, and let Valkyrie know so she can be prepared if he ends up overdosing one day.

TASE: seriously? that’s like trying to take nuts from a squirrel. he’d bite my hand off if I wasn’t a hologram

BB: Kiwi’s back. Gotta go now.

TASE: alright, see you soon. also Drill’s here, so yeah, be ready to talk with him because he’s on a roll

Event Log: Kiwi

M.V. Nyroc: Bridge

9:49am SGT

“Alright, are we there ye—” I say as I step back onto the bridge. But I stop dead as the door closes behind me, staring at the immersive array. “Holy shit!”

Looming in front of us a gigantic station, something that looks like a massive sphere enclosed within a set of linked gyroscopic rings. Two spires protrude from the outermost ring on opposite sides, demarcating the poles of the station, or what would be considered its ‘top’ and ‘bottom’. Of course, the fact that the sphere is split into two halves helps with that too, with the bottom half armored in white metal, and the top half being a massive glass biodome that has a central tower in the middle of miles of forests, small lakes, and scattered buildings.

“Ink have mercy, it’s massive!” I repeat, walking past Forecast in the captain’s chair. “It’s bigger than a Collective hive ship!”

“Well, yes, but it’s not too big. This one is the small one; the central sphere’s only got a six-mile diameter at the widest.” Songbird says as I arrive beside him.

“This one is the small one?” I say incredulously, handing his flask back to him. “You mean the other ones are bigger?”

“Sunthorn was the first-generation Bastion. Meant to test out the idea, see if it was workable.” Songbird explains, taking his flask and tucking it back in his longcoat. “Solar Echo and Lunar Echo were the second-generation Bastions, meant to scale up the concept once it had been proved feasible. Their central spheres are about nine miles across at their widest. None of them are as big as your Cradle, though; that was twenty miles across. And they’re tiny next to the Viralix starcities, which usually start at fifty miles across.”

“Yeah, but those are literally some of the biggest mobile structures in the galaxy!” I point out as we pass by one of the gyroscopic rings, which dwarf our cruiser. “Even as orbital fortresses go, this thing’s a chonker! It makes the Bulwark look like a joke!”

“Well, the Bulwark was a joke, but we don’t say that part out loud.” Songbird says. “Bastions have much better living accommodations than the Bulwark. The biosphere half has single-family homes scattered throughout the grounds, and housing complexes around the rim of the dome, climbing a few stories up the sides. There used to be restaurants and other small businesses along the rim as well, to support the Bastion’s population, but those are all empty since we’re still working with a skeleton staff and there’s no need for that at the moment.”

“Hot damn.” I mutter, pointing to the white tower in the center of the biosphere. “And that?”

“Central ops tower. It’s where Challengers, administration, and top brass would meet and work.” Songbird explains. “The number of staff in the tower was usually pretty small. It’s mostly composed of the archives and control rooms for the Bastion’s various systems, along with meeting and conference rooms for the top brass.”

“And what about the bottom half?” I ask as our cruiser starts to dip below Bastion’s equator, now gliding along the armored hemisphere on the bottom.

“Lots of things in the bottom hemisphere. The core that powers the entire station. Storage and all the systems that help keep the station running. Hangars take up most of the space, I think; there are several small hangars for drones and small spacecraft. Larger hangars for cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and the like. Enough room for at least one capital ship. Sunthorn can carry an entire taskforce of ships in the southern hemisphere and deploy it if need be.”

“Ink above. How did you guys not rule the galaxy with a station like this?” I ask as the entry to one of the hangars comes into view, the doors pulling back while an environmental shield keeps the atmosphere from escaping.

“There were only three Bastions, and there’s approximately three hundred billion star systems in Myrrdicato.”

I give him a flat look. “Okay, smartass. You get my point, though. The Challengers could’ve been a minor regional power with this kind of infrastructure.”

“Probably. But that wasn’t the point of the Challenger program, and it’s not the point of the Valiant.” he says as the Nyroc starts to slow down and pivot so it can enter the hangar. “We’re supposed to be an elite taskforce that responds quickly to crises and intervenes to keep them from happening. Small numbers, high quality.”

“Small numbers, relatively speaking.” Forecast points out behind both of us. “An orbital fortress like this could easily house thousands of permanent personnel.”

“Well, yes — relatively speaking.” Songbird concedes. “Small workforce, as relative to other galactic organizations like the Vaunted, or system governments.”

“Even if you claim it’s small, it’s not a workforce that is built up quickly. Hiring thousands of staff does not happen overnight.” Forecast says as the Nyroc angles towards the hangar, gliding through the environmental shield. “I am to understand, at least from what Commander Molossus has told me, that the Valiant are struggling to find the staffing they need to function properly.”

“Sierra just can’t keep her mouth shut, can she?” Songbird mutters, then answers properly. “It’s a work in progress. Kickstarting something like this takes time, effort, and lots of institutional support. We’re still working against political headwinds, and the stigma of CURSE’s propaganda campaign. Plus we have to build and diversify independent revenue streams… at the moment our finances don’t exactly allow us to pay top dollar for top talent, so we’ve been banking on the prestige of working at a Bastion to help draw qualified applicants in. It’s… we’re working on it.”

“Indeed.” Forecast says mildly, lacing his fingers together as the Nyroc glides slowly through the hangar, towards what appears to be another environmental shield at the opposite end. “Has your finance officer considered looking at government loans? The Maskling Republic has been operating at a budget surplus for the past several decades; I might be able to convince them that a loan to the Valiant would be an investment in a better future.”

The way Songbird turns ever so slightly, his ruby eyes flicking back to Forecast, betrays his unease. “You would have to speak with the finance officer, Commander, or Lieutenant Commander. I don’t have a hand in the organization’s finances.”

“Really?” Forecast says. “You seem to know a lot about the state of the Valiant’s finances, for someone that doesn’t have access to the ledger.”

“Dad.” I interrupt sharply. I know Forecast well enough to recognize when he’s trying to work an angle, and I recognize the tactic of seeking leverage under the guise of offering help. It’s a staple of Maskling influence operations, even with the few allies we have.

Forecast shrugs. “Simply concerned for the welfare of a partner, Kiwi. These are discussions that large organizations need to have.”

“Well, you can have them some other time, with someone else.” I tell him, reaching out to take Songbird’s hand and lace my fingers between his. “This is my first time being in a Bastion and I want to enjoy it.” Lifting our joined hands, I tug Songbird a little closer to me as I smile up at him. “And I want you to show me around. Show me everything.”

“Dial it back a little, Kiwi.” Forecast reminds me. “Just because your posting’s been formalized doesn’t mean we abandon professionalism in public.”

“I’ll dial back the PDA when you stop trying to pressure Songbird into getting the Valiant to take out a loan from the Republic.” I snip back at him. “Just because I’ve got my boyfriend back doesn’t mean my brain’s gone out the window. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Alright, fair enough. If that’s how you want to play it.” Forecast says, backing off. “We can set aside business in favor of the tour — this is also my first time in a Bastion and I admit that I have been looking forward to it.”

“Hope you don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day, then.” Songbird says as the Nyroc glides through the environmental shield at the other end of the hangar, and crosses over into the Bastion’s interior proper. “‘Cause that’ll be a long tour with how big Sunthorn is.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I murmur as the view opens up on the immersive screens. We’ve crossed into a massive, open area that looks like it’s intended for housing the support fleet that Songbird mentioned earlier. In the center of the Bastion is what looks like a massive sphere built into the equator that divides the fortress; extending down from it is a pillar that dwarfs the Nyroc and connects the equator and the southern pole. Parked lengthwise alongside it are three or four ships, ranging from frigates all the way up to battlecruisers, aligned with service docks lining the sides of the pillar. And that’s just the center of the Bastion — the rest of the southern hemisphere is divided into equal portions, the sides lined with massive buildings and structures holding… well, honestly, I’ve got no idea, but they’ve gotta be holding something.

“There’s a lot to show off here, but I suppose we’ll start with the basics.” Songbird says, lifting his free hand to point out the sphere at the center of the equator. “You’ve probably already deduced it, but that is the core, which is actually comprised of several top-of-the-line industrial-grade fusion cores operating in sequence. They provide power for the entire Bastion, with a generation output that can scale based on the station’s needs. The pillar that links it to the southern pole of the Bastion carries power to all of the sectors you see rimming the interior of the southern hemisphere, and also contains freight elevators for moving materials to the service docks you see lining the pillar—”

I tug on Songbird’s hand, clearing my throat. “A little less nerdy?”

“No no, please go on.” Forecast says from behind us. “I was quite enjoying the technical breakdown.”

Songbird looks at me, then at Forecast, then squares his shoulders. “I’m gonna ignore both of you and do this how I want.” he says, turning back to the vista before us, starting to point out the different sectors. “Much of what you see here is maintenance and utility. Water treatment and filtration, atmosphere recycling and ventilation, power distribution and gravity field management — all the standard things that keep an orbital station functioning. We don’t store everything in one place; as a matter of redundancy, utility resources are spread around the southern hemisphere so catastrophic damage to one part of the shell does not mean that you completely lose services such as ventilation or water distribution. The same goes for the hangars within the southern hemisphere; instead of a single hangar, we have six. Four for drones, two for strike fighters, and you can see them around the interior here — the loss of a single hangar will not cripple our tactical squadrons.”

“What about that big section over there?” I ask, pointing past the pillar as we start to approach it. “The one with the really big doors?”

“That’s the Titan hangar. It contains a comprehensive maintenance garage along with a testing and training range, and other facilities that support mech peripherals.” Songbird explains as the Nyroc turns and starts to rotate so it can align with one of the service docks on the central pillar. “That’s obviously where we stored the Challenger mechs when they weren’t in rotation aboard one of the mech carriers; most of them were Titan-class mechs, but we had a few Jeger-class mechs and at least a couple Hybriddyr-class mechs, alongside a handful of experimental designs. They didn’t see a lot of deployment in the last years of the Challenger program, and honestly, it’s probably gonna be at least five years before we can field a full squad of mechs again, much less field multiple squads at the same time. Buuuuuut don’t tell Renchiko I said that.”

Something clicks at that, a memory falling into place from the late nights we’d spent talking. “Weren’t you a backup Titan pilot for the Challengers?” I ask.

“Well yeah, initially. And then I was a copilot in the last years of the program.” he confirms. “Probably could’ve been a lead pilot, but I was always paired with Ratchet, and she always took lead when she was piloting.”

I bite my lip, grinning a little. “So you’ve spent a fair bit of time in a plugsuit.”

He locks up at that, and I can see him scrambling for an answer. “I… don’t think I should answer that question.”

“Agreed.” Forecast says before I can chase it further. “What is that sector beside the Titan hangar, Songbird? It has an interesting exterior; looks almost industrial.”

“That’s the Foundry. The Bastions were designed to be as self-sustaining as possible, and that included manufacturing our own parts and materials, ranging from replacements for Bastion infrastructure to parts for ships, drones, fighters, and mechs.” Songbird explains as the Nyroc eases into dock, and the docking clamps slowly lock into place. “Most of the stuff that the Foundry produces is simple stuff, like, ah… hull plating, bolts, nuts and screws, casings for missiles, and a lot of other stuff. We could make more complicated parts, but it takes time and materials we don’t always have. The Bastion itself has a limited capacity to mine asteroids and refine ore, but it takes a lot longer than a specialized operation like the ones Mercurials run. Back when I was in the Challenger program, we almost never captured and refined asteroids; we usually just sourced the raw materials off the market, and then manufactured a lot of our stuff in-house.”

“Well, you don’t come across a lot of orbital fortresses that have in-house manufacturing.” Forecast says, starting to stand as the docking checks begin. “I suppose that speaks to the quality of the Challenger program’s infrastructure. I assume a Bastion’s production capability is limited to parts and materials, rather than complete products?”

“Depends on the product. You’d never see the Foundry cranking out the latest strike fighters models, but simple combat drones or bog-standard coilgun rifles? It could produce those if we had a shortage.” Songbird says, turning to follow Forecast to the door of the bridge and tugging me along with him. “It’s like a miniature version of those mobile factory ships that the Cyber Meritocracy has in their warfleets.”

“Oh, the ones that just crank out swarms of fighter drones so long as you keep feeding them metal?” I ask as we exit into the halls of the Nyroc. “I always thought those were kinda neat. I hear they’re great for dealing with the Collective.”

“They’re good for any kind of siege application, actually.” Forecast says as he leads the way down the hall. “And they are the envy of many other nations. The ability to manufacture arms, munitions, and vessels wherever the combat force happens to be — that is a war planner’s dream come true. It removes much of the logistical issue of maintaining secure supply lines to the warfront, thereby removing the need to secure and protect those supply lines. The fact that the Challengers had a miniature version of a mobile factory would’ve given them a great degree of operational freedom that many other military organizations would envy.”

“It reduced our dependence on typical resupply systems.” Songbird says as we make our way to the disembarkation airlocks. “With the way things are right now, it might be a cost-saving measure we can use until we have stable revenue streams. But that’s dependent on getting into the fourth layer of the Challenger backup archive, so we can get the command codes for the Bastion so we can actually start moving it around.”

“Legaci still hasn’t cracked that?” I ask as we arrive to the airlock, waiting for it to cycle and pressurize. “She’s had months to get it figured out.”

“If it was the only thing she was doing, she might have it handled by now. But she’s been helping out with a lot of other stuff.” Songbird explains. “She’s been doing intelligence and analytics so we can stay ahead of CURSE, and try to respond to crisis points in the galaxy, like the invasion of Mokasha. She’s also been handling background checks and investigation on applicants, in addition to handling logistics to ensure we have sufficient resources. One of the sectors here in the southern hemisphere was an industrial-scale agriculture, aquaculture, and hydroponics facility, but after sixteen years everything’s dead and some of the equipment has broken. There’s going to be a lot of work that needs to be done to get that up and running again, so we’re having to buy food supplies until we can start producing our own.”

Further discussion on that topic is interrupted as both airlock doors cycle open, revealing that disembarkation ramp’s already been moved into place, and there’s people waiting for us down on the dock. I let go of Songbird’s hand, trotting down the ramp as I see Tarocco and Cahriu among them. “Hey, long time no see, Tarocco! Can’t believe you’ve been living on this floatin’ palace for the last few months while I’ve been stuck in the Nyroc!”

Tarocco snorts, tilting her head. “It’s not like I’ve been lazing around; I have been working. But I can’t say you’re wrong; this place is nicer than any station I’ve ever been on. Sometimes when I’m topside, I almost forget I’m on an orbital fortress.”

“What, no big greeting for me?” Cahriu says, holding out his arms.

“Oh cock off, you big mutt.” I scoff as I come off the ramp with Songbird and Forecast following behind me. “I see your tail wagging, I know you’re happy to see me. Besides, you know I’m not here for you.”

Cahriu grins. “I told him that you’d find your way back to him if you had a chance, but he didn’t want to believe me.” he says, pointing to Songbird. “You should’ve seen how he got when three months came and went. Ya boi doesn’t have a tail or ears, but damn if he didn’t look like the saddest puppy in the galaxy.”

“I know, right?” Sierra says, rolling her eye. “Thank god you’re finally here. The moping was getting on my nerves. We had bets going on whether he’d die of loneliness if he didn’t get you back before the year was out.”

“I was not moping.” Songbird grumbles, giving Renchiko a hug as she comes up to welcome him back. “I was still doing my job and everything.”

“No, you were definitely moping.” Luci says with a light grimace. “You still did your job, but you were moping while you were at it.”

“Huh.” I say, hitching a hand on my hip as I smirk at Songbird. “You missed me that much?”

He puffs out a hassled sigh. “Look, we’re not here to talk about me, we’re here to get you settled in and show you around the Bastion. Sierra, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to talk with Forecast about. Cahriu, aren’t you supposed to be helping train the new recruits?”

Cahriu waves it off. “Ah, I got all week to train them. It isn’t every day that we get another Maskling, and my bro finally comes back after going rogue for a month.”

That instantly tugs my attention back to Songbird. “Oh, you two are bros now?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re not ‘bros’, we’re…” Songbird struggles for a moment, before the word stumbles off his tongue. “…friends. Ahrm.”

Cahriu chuckles. “That’s an improvement.” he explains to me. “It used to be ‘acquaintances’, and then it became ‘coworkers’, and it’s taken seven months, but we’re at ‘friends’ now. It’s slow, but there’s progress.”

“While this banter is all very good and well, there is business that needs to be attended to.” Forecast says. “Commander Molossus, I need to speak with you about the terms of Kiwi’s posting with the Valiant. The Council wanted something in return for allowing the Valiant to utilize one of our elite assets, and while Songbird agreed to their request, I still wanted to run it by the Valiant’s command structure to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Well, whatever it is, it can’t have been too serious.” Sierra says, waving it off. “He was desperate to get his girl back, but he wouldn’t throw his common sense out the window.”

“I was not desperate—” Songbird begins.

“You were desperate.” Luci interrupts, factually.

“I respect your faith in him; however, even if it’s just a formality, I do need to make sure that the Valiant will assist us with what Songbird agreed to.” Forecast says, patient and calm as ever. “It’s something that I think should be discussed behind closed doors, so perhaps I can request that you and I sit down to have a talk while Songbird is showing Kiwi around the Bastion?”

Sierra sighs, moving over to Forecast to fiddle with his tie. “Gods, it’s always business with you, Forecast. Have you ever considered relaxing, taking it easy for a bit? Having a little fun, maybe? I know people say not to mix business and pleasure, but look at Kiwi and Songbird. It’s worked for them.”

“Hey!” Songbird says indignantly.

“Dude, really?” I demand. “That’s my dad! Are you really making a pass at him in front of me?”

Sierra gives me a shit-eating grin, but Forecast reaches up to politely disengage Sierra’s fingers from his tie. “While I’m flattered, I must respectfully decline. My rank and position requires some level of decorum that shouldn’t be tainted with unseemly behavior. For the present, I must insist that yes, business comes before pleasure.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sierra pouts. “The mutt gave me a good showing, got me kinda interested in Masklings. Pixie sticks has been playing hard-to-get, and Songbird would have an aneurysm if I made a pass at Kiwi, so I figured I’d broaden my horizons.”

“Keep dreaming, vampire slut.” Tarocco mutters.

I look at Cahriu. “Wait, don’t tell me you… seriously?”

Cahriu folds his arms, sticking his tongue out at me. “I’m an adult, I’m allowed to make my own decisions. Besides, what’s it matter to you? You got your boytoy you can play with.”

“I’m not asking for my own sake!” I exclaim. “That’s like picking up a coin in the street; you don’t know whose pants she’s been in!”

“Everyone’s.” Luci coughs into his hand, off to the side.

“Man, I wish.” Sierra sighs. “But some people, coughSongbirdandTaroccocough, like to play hard to get.”

“Right! So, this is all very awkward and cringy.” Renchiko says loudly. “Can we do the actual tour thing now?”

“Agreed! Let’s stop talking about people’s bedroom choices and see about showing Kiwi around the Bastion, yeah?” Songbird agrees quickly.

“I support this plan of action.” Forecast agrees.

“Me too, I think that’d be great.” Tarocco adds.

Sierra blows a raspberry. “Pllrrrbtt. Y’all are no fun. Alright fine, let’s get this ball rolling.” She starts walking off, motioning for the rest of us to follow. “Songbird and the rest can go do whatever it is they’re gonna do. I have to call up Kaiser and Valkyrie so we can all have a chat, Forecast. They don’t let me make executive decisions anymore, even though I’m technically the Commander of this ragtag outfit ever since Dussel bit the dust…”

Event Log: Kiwi

Sunthorn Bastion: Central Tower

4:53pm SGT

“Gah! Geez, I thought they would never stop talking!” I huff, striding away from the doors at the base of the central tower. “It just kept going on, and on, and on, and on, like Ink have mercy, how do you stand it?”

Songbird follows me out at a slower pace. “Legaci and Kaiser are just those types. Their work involves a lot of data, analysis, and tactical assessment, so it’s what they talk about.”

“Yeah, I guess, but good grief, forty minutes in and it was all starting to blur together to me.” I say, shaking my head as I tilt down the stairs. “I’m wasted on middle management. Or micromanagement. Or anything involving management, period. My personal hell would be getting stuck at a desk job for the rest of my life.”

“Well, I suppose that explains your career choices.” Songbird remarks.

I smirk over my shoulder at him. “Why settle for a boring desk job when you could be paid to kick ass, take names, and feel alive?”

He shrugs as we come off the stairs. “There are benefits, but I have the feeling that they’re not the sort that would appeal to you.”

“Would those sort of benefits appeal to you?” I ask, waiting for him to catch up to me.

He seems to give that some thought. “If I had lived a more normal life, perhaps. A quiet desk job, with good benefits and pay, stable work that had meaning and purpose, enough time on the side to pursue hobbies or side projects… I think I would like that.”

I wrinkle my nose at that. “I’d die of boredom. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you didn’t get to have a normal life. I don’t think I’d’ve met you otherwise.”

That gets a bittersweet smile out of him. “I do still wish I’d had a normal life every now and then. But since I met you, I don’t wish for it as often as I used to.”

I bump my shoulder against his as we start walking side by side down one of the paths that leads to the central tower. “Aw. That’s sweet of you, Blueberry.” I shunt my hands in my pockets. “Also, I’m surprised. I didn’t think Kaiser would actually join up after the way you threatened him back on Halomorian.”

“I had my doubts as well. But I’m not surprised, either.” Songbird says, mirroring how I’ve got my hands tucked in my pockets. “Kaiser is tactical and practical. He plays the long game and doesn’t make decisions based on sentiment or principle. The fact that he’s joined us isn’t an endorsement of our values or what we stand for. It’s a reflection of the fact that in the battle between the Valiant and CURSE, he thinks the Valiant will eventually come out on top. And it is safer to be on the winning side of a fight like that.”

I snort at that. “Fat lotta loyalty he’s got.”

“It’s easy to be dismissive of him, but he has his uses.” Songbird says. “He’s good at what he does. I wouldn’t say he’s honest; he used to be the head of Accounting, and he’s told plenty of lies; that’s just part of his line of work. But there’s something uncomplicated about his motives. At the end of the day, he’s going to do what he needs to do in order to survive. If you see him jumping ship, you know things are going down the tubes. If you see him join up with a group, it means that they’ve got a future he’s willing to bet on.”

“So the Valiant have a future.”

“Well, Kaiser’s here, so that’s a pretty strong vote of confidence.”

“Hmm.” I say, puffing a lock of hair out of my face. We walk in silence for a bit, just enjoying the quiet and the temperate climate, which I eventually remark on. “Big damn biodome.”

“Yeah. Impressive, isn’t it.” he says, lifting his head to look upwards. Miles above us is the massive crysteel dome that makes up the shell of the Bastion’s northern hemisphere. Through the glasslike material, you can see the looming edge of the gas giant we’re orbiting around. “Each of the crysteel panes can act as a screen. Once we get the command codes out of the fourth layer of the backup archive, we’ll be able to control what the dome displays. Make it a blue sky, or a night sky… set the illusion of a proper day/night cycle. Maybe even get a seasonal cycle going.”

“It’s insane.” I mumble. “How do you even make a glass dome that big? Actually, how has it not shattered before now? A single railgun spike would smash the entire thing like sugar glass.”

“Combination of point-defense arrays, nonconventional defense systems, and extremely advanced shielding.” Songbird answers. “The dome’s also layered, can’t remember whether it’s quadruple or quintuple. And it flexes; it’s not a completely rigid structure. So in the extremely unlikely event something actually manages to hit it, it can disperse some of the kinetic force by flexing under the impact.”

“Well, that does make me feel a little safer.” I say, lowering my gaze again and studying the scattered groves, ponds, and stretches of grass on either side of the path. The grass is what most catches my attention; it looks like it’s gotten way out of control, browning in some places and going waist-high in others, while the trees look like they’re making a bid to expand beyond their original borders, based on the fringe of saplings ringing many of the groves. “Looks like the grounds have gotten a little out of control.”

“Yeah, there’s been no one to tend the grounds over the last sixteen years.” he says, following my gaze as we stroll down the path. “We had an entire groundskeeping staff back in the day. We had a lot of people back in the day, actually. Your dad was right when he said that the Bastion could house thousands of permanent staff; Sunthorn’s residential workforce easily reached into the thousands. Same for Solar Echo and Lunar Echo.”

“Those are the other two Bastions, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, the two bigger ones. We don’t know where they are yet; even if we did, we’d probably leave them in hibernation. We don’t even have enough people to fully staff Sunthorn yet, and this is the smallest Bastion. Finding enough people to staff two larger Bastions would take years.” he explains. “When people think about the Challenger program, they think about the Challengers. Nobody ever thinks about all the support staff, all the people that made the program possible: intelligence analysts, combat and field support, overseer staff for field ops, in-house medical staff, the finance and legal teams, marketing and recruiting departments, the public relations team, personnel resources, scientists and lab techs, engineers, mechanics, and maintenance staff, crews for staffing the Challenger ships…”

“Dayum.” I say. “You guys did everything, didn’t you?”

“Felt like it sometimes.” he says, still looking out across the vast expanse of the biodome. “Point is, the Challenger program was more than just the Challengers. It was an entire workforce, a major employer. Took decades to get to that point, to have that many people, and it’s gonna take a while to get back even a fraction of that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I say. After a moment, I look at him. “This is what you wanted, right?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, as if he was searching for the words. “…yeah. It is what I wanted. I wanted to… I guess I wanted a second chance. Not for myself, but for everything the Challenger program was. Everything it was supposed to be. And we’ve gotten it; this is our second chance. A new start. A fresh start. But it’s… it’s a lot of work, I won’t lie. There’s a lot of nitty-gritty, unglamorous stuff that goes into building an organization that can make a difference in the galaxy. You need people to crunch the numbers, balance the checkbooks, do the research, keep the hedges trimmed. To do all the stuff that nobody thinks about when they see the news reports about the Valiant rescuing people from Mokasha or interrupting a pirate raid on a luxury cruiseliner or some other heroic stuff. It’s worth it, but it’s a lot of work.”

“You don’t have to do the work though, right?” I point out. “You’re one of the faces of the Valiant. Your job is to get out there, kick ass, take names, and make a difference in the galaxy.”

“I mean yeah, but I can’t do that without the people that do all the rest of it.” Songbird points out hastily. “Like, I can’t do shit without Legaci. She’s the one that does all the intelligence work. Or at least gathering all the data and running the analytics. Kaiser parses through it, figures out the risks, threats, value of the missions we go on. Drill’s the one that manages our finances; Sierra’s the one that smoothtalks her way into getting us connections. Valkyrie takes care of us when we get injured, and I can’t go anywhere without Titania commanding the crew that run the ships that get us from system to system. Me and Jackrabbit, we can’t do what we do without everyone else doing their thing. It’s a group effort; none of this is possible without them.”

“Exactly. And you’re doing your part too, which is kicking ass and taking names. So don’t worry about it.” I say, scuffing my sneakers over the path, giving a little hop-skip as I go. “You can’t do it all, Blueberry. Just do what you’re good at and leave the rest to everyone else. That’s why I never worry about logistics or intel or stuff like that on missions. I know what I’m good at and what I’m supposed to do, and that’s what I focus on. Worrying about the big picture never did me any favors, anyhow.”

“Okay, but I’m not like that.” he says. “I can’t help thinking about the big picture. And where I am in it. And what I can do to change it or make it better.”

I scrunch up my mouth at that. “Don’t you ever think about yourself? About the things that you want to do?”

He bites his lip. “I guess you’re about to tell me that I should?”

“Mhmm. Remember what we talked about after the fight with the S-Twos?”

“That… you would be my dream.” he says after a moment.

“Since you couldn’t have your dream of being an artist or a musician.” I add, reaching out and snagging his hand. “I’m your dream now. So listen to me when I tell you that you should think about yourself. About the things you want to do. Instead of worrying about what everyone else is doing.”

“I get what you’re saying, but that’s kinda… selfish.” he winces. “And that’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Because you’re Anayan, right?” I guess. “Because that’s how you were raised.”

He blinks at that. “Yeah, now that you mention it… that does make sense. Placing the welfare of community above the welfare of self is a big thing for Anayans. We’re expected to serve the community before serving ourselves.”

“Exactly. So now you need to learn how to take care of yourself.” I go on. “Don’t try to be the hero, don’t try to be the good guy, don’t try to always be there for other people or picking up the slack when they let off. Take care of yourself. Spend time doing some of the things you want to do. If you don’t do that, you’re always going to be miserable, working yourself to death trying to fix the next thing and the thing after that and the thing after that. And I know you, and I know you will try to do that if someone doesn’t tell you not to do it.”

“Oh, you know me?” he says with a sidelong smile.

“Like the back of my hand.” I say, bouncing up on my toes to give him a kiss on his jaw. “And I know that you’re a tormented, guilt-ridden, altar boy-turned-vampire that wants to have fun but never learned how to have a good time. And I plan on fixing that.”

That gets a chuckle out of him. “You got your work cut out for you, then, ‘cause there is a lot to fix here.” he says, using his free hand to motion to all of himself, then pointing at his head. “Mostly up here, though.”

I grin. “I’m up for a challenge. Besides, nothing’s quite as fun as teaching a saint how to be a sinner.”

“Oh ho? You’re gonna turn me into a sinner?”

I tap the tip of his nose. “You get to learn from expert. I got my degree in deviance.” Bouncing along a few more steps, I catch sight of something beside the path that looks like a terminal adjacent to a large, half-submerged pipe running through the grounds. “Hey, what’s that? I saw it earlier on the way here, but forgot to ask about it.”

Songbird glances at it. “Ah. That’s one of the terminals for the Tubes.”

I give him a glance askance. “Am I supposed to know what those are?”

“It’s a network of… well, tubes that run throughout the Bastion.” he explains. “A Bastion’s a big structure, literally miles wide. It can take a while to get somewhere moving on foot, and even in a vehicle it can take a bit of time. Plus, there’s the whole difficulty with moving between different levels of the station. The Tubes fix the transit problem, at least for authorized personnel. Are you familiar with how fiber optic cables work?”

“Yeaaaaaaah, no.” I say. “They use those in computers, right?”

“Yeah, sorta, I think… well, not really. You don’t see them in actual computers so much as you see them in transmission and data lines because fiber optics carry high-volume and high-quality data, more than your traditional lines do.” he explains. “Anyway, as it’s been explained to me, the Tubes work kinda like that, but for people and objects. You step into one of the terminals, pick your destination, then step into the tube, which… carries you down the tube at close to the speed of light, kinda like data, to step out on the other side. Bear in mind that’s a very simplified explanation; I don’t understand the full science behind it, and honestly, the guy that explained it to me way back when didn’t sound like he completely understood it either. But the basic idea is that it sends you from one point in the Bastion to the other nearly instantly, so it doesn’t take you ten minutes, two short vehicle rides, and several elevators to get from the Central Tower to, say, the Titan hangar.”

“Huh. That’s neat.” I remark, peering closer at some of the alcoves in the terminal as we walk past it. It looks like the tubes connected to it are dark and unpowered, at least that I can see from here. “Why don’t they have something like that in other orbital stations? Or in cities, for that matter?”

“Well, something to keep in mind is that a lot of Challenger tech was cutting-edge, experimental stuff. Previous administrations would agree to test prototypes for different companies and governments, and provide feedback, in exchange for exclusive access to the tech.” he says. “You’ll see a lot of stuff in the Bastions and on Challenger ships that you won’t see on any other orbital fortress or ship in the galaxy. Most the time, implementation boiled down to cost or energy requirements. If I had to guess, the Tubes were never replicated anywhere else due to both of those. The materials required to make them work were probably either very difficult or very expensive to source, or both, and the energy required to run it may not have been feasible. That’s probably actually why they’re deactivated right now; putting the Bastions into hibernation would’ve involved turning off noncritical high-energy systems. And getting them turned back on does unfortunately require the command codes currently locked in the fourth layer of the backup archive.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I was hoping we could just jump in and get to where we were going.” I lament as the terminal starts to fall behind us.

“Would be nice.” he agrees. “They didn’t come without risks, though. Every now and then we’d lose someone in the Tubes. They’d step in, and just wouldn’t come out on the other side. It didn’t happen too often, I think, just once every decade or so, at least according to the rumors that I remember. Also, if one of the Tubes gets damaged, we can’t use that Tube anymore. Nobody knows how to fix them.”

“What? Seriously?” I say incredulously. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. That’s the risks that come with experimental tech.” he shrugs. “If it breaks, the person that built it might not be around anymore to fix it. And there may not be other versions of it elsewhere. As far as know, the Tubes were only ever implemented in the Bastions; other places couldn’t afford them, or had them uninstalled after the whole losing-people-in-the-Tubes thing came to their attention. From what I can remember, the complexity of the system was part of the issue; they seemed to lose more people in the Tubes when they expanded the system in major metropolitan areas with thousands of possible destinations. The problem didn’t seem as pronounced on the Bastions because they were relatively small transit ecosystems compared to a contemporary surface city — the Tubes in the Bastions only have around a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty possible destinations.”

I stare at him for moment, then smirk. “You’re a nerd.”

He gives me a perplexed look. “What?”

“You’re just rambling on and on about system complexity and transit ecosystems like a nerd. Honestly, sometimes I’m surprised you know how to fight as well as you do.”

“What, I can’t be smart and skilled at the same time?”

“Are you kidding me? That’s too much work. I just settled for being skilled. Other people can worry about being smart.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. You’re smart, you just don’t want people to think you’re smart.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet. Hey, can we go see your place next?”

“Don’t you want to get settled into your place first?”

“What?… I thought I was rooming with you.”

“Wha— you… with me? Like, living together?”

“I mean, that’s basically what we’ve been doing over the past month, right?”

“Yeah, but, I mean, like, we were on a ship for most of it, and space was limited—”

“So you don’t want to move in together. Alright, that’s fine.”

“Wait no, that— that’s not what I meant! I mean, not in the way it sounds—”

“So you do want me to move in with you?”

“I— uh, well, I mean—”

“Sounds like a yes to me. I’ll go grab my luggage!”

“What? But… wait! Shouldn’t we talk about this some more?!”

Event Log: Lucanthiline

Sunthorn Bastion: Sunthorn Spice

9:14pm SGT

“…and the Dodakatheon was like ‘we made you, and we can break you’. And I was like, ‘bitch please! I’ve been around since before your sires and grandsires and great-grandsires. The only reason I’m not in charge of Molossus right now is because I don’t wanna sit around playing the social games you boneless wanks play all day!’ And they took that about as well as you’d expect they would.” Sierra says, tossing her head a little to get her platinum hair back over her shoulder as she sips from what I think is her fourth drink. I’ve lost track, but personally I’m still nursing my first drink.

Valkyrie’s steely eyes flicker towards me. “…is that why Drill has stated we have had difficulty securing financial backing from the vampire establishment?”

I shrug. “Don’t look at me, I’m just a cheshire. I don’t do politics and negotiations; I just deliver the messages.”

“Let’s be honest, that’s exactly the reason the Dodakatheon won’t give us any money.” Sierra drawls, setting her drink down. “The musty ol’ coffins got sticks so far up their ass they got trees growing out their mouths. They’re big on class and refinement and dignity and all that shit. Joke’s on them; I’ve been around longer than almost all of them and I’m still havin’ a good time. Hey Sandago, can I get a refill over here!”

“Do not give her a refill.” Valkyrie calls over her shoulder to the bar, where Sandago’s pouring a couple of fizzwater drinks for Ridge and one of the new recruits. “Sierra, we need to talk about your diplomacy skills. This is a critical time for the Valiant; we need allies. We can’t afford to be alienating potential partners.”

Sierra snorts. “Trust me, we don’t want to partner with the Dodakatheon. The only thing they’re interested in is getting leverage over us so they can ask us to do their dirty work from time to time. They just want connections and people on the inside so they can tug our leash.”

“Be that as it may, we still can’t afford to alienate them.” Valkyrie insists. “The Dodakatheon has wide influence over finance sector, not to mention considerable sway in politics and culture. Obviously they are not our friends, but we still may need to work with them in the future. We should make sure we are in a position to do so, instead of burning bridges before we’ve had a chance to use them.”

“Trust me. Personally speaking, as a vampire, it’s not much of a loss.” Sierra say, finishing the last dregs of her drink. “We can get on just fine without them. We’re not missing out on much.”

“That’s not for you to—” Valkyrie begins.

“Oh hey, it’s the lovebirds.” I say, sitting up when I see Kiwi and Songbird step into the Spice. “Thank god Kiwi’s back. I thought the bluebird would never come out of his funk.”

Valkyrie leans back in her chair, exhaling through her nose. “At what cost? From what I heard, the Masklings only let us have her because Songbird agreed to have the Valiant help the Maskling Republic catch someone they’ve been hunting.”

“Something called a Mask collector. Someone that’s buying Masks from groups that have gotten them in questionable ways.” Sierra says. “It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange, as far as I can tell. We hunt down whoever’s got their tits in a twist, and in exchange, we get Kiwi, who seems to be a pretty good asset. Everybody wins.”

“Jury’s still out on that.” Valkyrie says in an undertone as Songbird and Kiwi start across the room. “If Songbird’s the only one that can rein her in, that might mean problems whenever the two of them aren’t paired up. We’ll have to see.”

“Oh boy, looks like he’s about to find out how pissed Ridge is.” I murmur as Songbird and Kiwi head for the bar where Ridge and the other recruit are.

“Is the kid still holding a grudge? He needs to let that go, man.” Sierra says, shaking her head. “He was only on janitor duty at the Challenger Valiant outpost for a month. We definitely could’ve come down a lot harder on him than we did, after the way he almost cocked up that one mission.”

“It was warranted, after what happened. But we probably could’ve gone for a different punishment.” Valkyrie says, watching as Songbird and Kiwi arrive to the bar and Songbird tries to start up a conversation with Ridge. Based on the looks and the body language, it’s pretty clear it’s getting off to a bad start. “We didn’t think about the fact that Ridge is an orphan, and certain types of punishment can trigger abandonment trauma.”

“Fer chrissakes, gimme a break with that.” Sierra scoffs. “We’re not here to coddle our recruits. We’re the Valiant; we’re a paramilitary spec ops group. We need to toughen up our agents, not roll them in bubble wrap.”

Valkyrie glares at Sierra. “Mental and emotional health are just as important to a fighting force as physical health. You can’t just dismiss a soldier’s problems as if they don’t exist.”

Sierra slams her glass down on the table. “We. Are. A. Fighting force. I get it, everybody has problems. I’m not saying they don’t. But every adult is responsible for managing their traumas and whatever other mental shit they got going on. Your problems, your ‘triggers’, as you like to refer to them, are your responsibility to manage and control. It’s not everybody’s else’s job to make the galaxy comfortable for you. Those are your problems. You need to handle them, not fob off the responsibility for them on the people around you. Yeah sure, Ridge is an orphan, and maybe he’s got abandonment issues. But if he wants to be an Agent in the Valiant, he needs to figure out how to handle his issues. It’s not going to be the responsibility of his coworkers or his superiors to handle his mental health. That’s on him.”

“Looks like Songbird needs to be bailed out.” I interject, breaking up the argument before it can progress any further. Standing up, I call across the bar to where it looks like Ridge is getting super passive-aggressive with Songbird. “Hey Blueberry! Over here, Valkyrie’s been wanting to ask you about the Maskling homeworld!”

Songbird’s turns at that, and Kiwi’s quick to take his arm and tug him towards our table. Even if it’s a bit reluctant, Songbird starts migrating in our direction as Ridge and the new recruit go back to talking. Valkyrie takes a sip from her drink, scooting her chair around to make some room for Songbird and Kiwi as they pull up chairs to our table.

“Hey guys. Didn’t expect to see anyone here this late in the night cycle.” Songbird says as he sits down.

“Luci lied; I’m not interested in the Maskling homeworld. He just needed a reason to get you out of that hole you were digging with Ridge.” Valkyrie says.

“Oh, you guys saw that.” Songbird sighs. “Seems like he’s still holding a grudge over being sent to Cinderella at Challenger Valiant.”

“Kid’s a spoiled punk.” Sierra says, shaking her head. “Hey Sandago, can I get a refill over here? Might as well take Kiwi and Songbird’s drink orders while you’re at it!”

“Prolly should’ve found a different punishment for him, but I honestly don’t know what it should’ve been.” Songbird says, resting his chin on his hands. “I get why it bothered him the way it did, but I thought he would’ve been over it by now.”

“He’s an orphan with abandonment issues. He’s going to be holding that grudge for a while.” Valkyrie says as Sandago comes out from behind the counter and starts in our direction.

“Plus he’s a teenager.” Kiwi adds.

Sierra lets out a small burp as she runs a hand over her face and up into her hair. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Teenagers. Nothing but hormones and idiocy all the way down.”

Valkyrie scowls at Sierra once. “You were a teenager once.”

“I was a silly bitch once. Thank god I left those days behind thirteen thousand years ago.” Sierra says, holding her empty glass out for Sandago to take as he arrives. “I was a goddamn mess when I was a teenager. You couldn’t get me to replay those days to save my life.”

“I wanted to ask him about the whole thing with him falling into the crystal pond and getting sick.” Songbird says. “You told me it was something I should talk with him about, Valkyrie. Hey Sandago, it’s good to see you — it’ll be the usual for me.”

“One strawberry kiwi fizzwater with gravel coming up, then.” Sandago says, his digital faceplate offering a smile. “And what about the miss?”

“Blueberry cherry fizzwater, sixty-forty with rocks.” Kiwi says, returning the smile.

“Coming right up, then.” Sandago says, giving a nod as he heads back to the counter.

“Well, I figured it would better for you to find it out from him.” Valkyrie says. “But considering how things are right now, I may as well tell you myself. That pond that he fell into at the Challenger Valiant outpost wasn’t a coolant pond, like we thought at first. It was a primary seeding pond for a Crystallizer colony that the outpost’s generation array uses as its power source.”

Songbird stares at Valkyrie for a moment, slowly covers his eyes with a hand. “Oh… shit.”

“Am I missing something here?” Kiwi says, leaning forward a little. “What’s a Crystallizer?”

“What Ridge is now.” I answer, swirling the dregs of my drink around in my glass.

Kiwi gives me a flat look. “Well obviously, but like. What is it.”

Songbird finishes dragging his hand down his face. “It’s a species of symbiotic self-replicating crystal that can live in these little outcroppings on their own, or in a host. It usually gives a host certain… abilities.” He looks at Valkyrie. “Have you told him?”

“I’ve told him that he’s now carrying a Crystallizer strain. I haven’t told him that he may be developing unique abilities from it.” Valkyrie says.

“I don’t see why that’s a problem. He’s got powers now, right?” Kiwi points out.

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.” Songbird says. “The problem is that you don’t know about Crystallizers because they’re rare. The reason they’re rare is because most Crystallizer colonies are controlled by the Cyber Meritocracy, which extracts and refines those crystals for use in everything ranging from power generation to explosive warheads to durable, high-fidelity supercomputing, such as what you see in high-end Synthetics. And any Crystallizer sources outside of their control…”

“Tend to make them very disgruntled.” Valkyrie finishes. “Additionally, other governments and corporate entities have a vested interest in getting their hands on Crystallizer colonies and sources, since the Meritocracy does not like to share Crystallizer tech.”

“So kid has powers now, but he’s also an attractive target for certain groups.” I conclude. “Which I’m guessing we haven’t told him either.”

“It’s a complicated conversation to have.” Valkyrie says.

“Guh.” Songbird says, rubbing his face as Sandago returns with the drinks. “Just another day in paradise. Alright, I’ll see if I can talk with him once I get properly settled back in. Valkyrie, do we know which strain he has?”

“Cryofelis.”

Songbird’s brows draw together, like he was trying to remember the answer to a question on a test. “That’s the uh, the blue one, right?”

“Yes. I did the research; it’s one of the stable strains, particularly the one that generates resonance fields.” Valkyrie says, sipping from her drink. “I put together a list of studies on the Cryofelis strain that you can read when you have the time.”

“Resonance fields… oh shoot, that’s the one that people can use to warp around, right?” Songbird asks.

“Resonance jumps, yes. But that’s a very advanced technique that’s only used by skilled Cryofelis Crystallizers.”

Songbird drags his hands down his face again. “Moody teenagers developing teleporting crystal powers. Someone kill me now.”

“Well, at the very least, he’s got a boyfriend to keep him out of trouble now.” Sierra remarks, sipping on her refilled drink.

Songbird freezes, eyes flicking to Sierra. “What.”

She nods to the bar where Ridge and the other recruit are sitting. “Why do you think he got so catty with you? He’s on a date right now.”

Songbird glances back over his shoulder at the bar, then back at us, and leans in a little, hissing quietly. “A boyfriend? Since when has he had a boyfriend?! I leave for two months and he gets a boyfriend while I’m gone?”

Sierra shrugs. “Teenagers gonna teenage. You know how that goes; you were crazy for Nova for years.”

Valkyrie glares at Sierra. “Sierra. Seriously? Have a little class.”

I snort at that. “That’s like asking the sun to stop shining.”

“Nova was a mistake I’m never going to repeat again, thank you very much.” Songbird grumbles, slouching in his chair and taking a sip from his drink.

“I dunno, already looks like you’ve repeated it, but in a different color.” Sierra snarks.

“Hey!” Kiwi says indignantly. “I am much better than some ditzy frou-frou Starstruck, thank you very much!”

Sierra chuckles. “Nova was a lot of things. Frou-frou was not one of them. Powerhungry and ambitious, though — right on the mark.”

“I’m not powerhungry.” Kiwi says, sticking her tongue out at Sierra. “I just like having enough power to be independent, take care of myself, and fight my own battles. Lots of people want enough power to be able to do that.”

“And yet you—” Sierra begins.

“Don’t!” Kiwi interrupts, holding up a finger and then pointing it at Songbird. “He’s an exception. I like being with him. Plus he can actually keep up with me, unlike all my other handlers.”

“Mhmm.” Sierra smirks, leaning back in her chair. “If you say so.”

“You’re not exactly qualified to be passing judgement on other people’s relationships, Sierra.” Valkyrie says, setting her drink down. “But I’m not gonna venture down that rabbit hole. Now that you’re back, Songbird, I wanted to discuss our training program — we’ve gotten plenty of recruits, and we’ve started basic training for a lot of them, but I think we should start incorporating elements of the Challenger training program. Especially for the young recruits, like Ridge and Renchiko.”

Sierra rolls her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Val. We’re having drinks right now; do you have to bring work into it?”

“No, she’s actually got a good point.” Songbird says, straightening up. “We might not have access to the command codes, but a lot of the programs in the training grounds are accessible with third-layer access. Finding ways to integrate some of the core modules from the old Challenger program would be a good idea, especially for the recruits we’re training from the ground up.”

Sierra blusters out a long sigh. “Of course you’d want to talk work this late at night.” She takes a swig from her drink, then stands up. “Well, if that’s what y’all want to do, I’mma be excusing myself. Kiwi, you need to show your man how to relax sometime. He wouldn’t know the definition of fun if you stapled it to his forehead.”

Kiwi just smiles slyly over the rim of her glass. “Don’t worry. The new recruits aren’t the only ones that are getting some training over the next few months.”

Sierra grins. “That’s a good girl. Luci, you comin’?”

“Right along.” I say, taking a last swig of my drink before standing up. “You three don’t have too much fun.”

“I could say the same about you two.” Valkyrie returns, giving us a knowing look as we head for the doors.

“We’re not doing workstuff, so we’re allowed to have fun.” Sierra says as she throws an arm around my shoulders. “And trust me, we’re gonna have fun. Lots of it. Isn’t that right, Luci?”

I just grin, giving the others a little wave. “Have a good night, you three. You all can work on that training program. I’ll work on wearing out the vampire.”

Valkyrie folds her arms. “Yes, because that’s such a sacrifice.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. Someone’s gotta do it!” I call over my shoulder. Sliding an arm around Sierra’s waist, I click my tongue at her. “And you been lazy all day. I think you could do with a nice, thorough workout.”

Sierra shows me her fangs. “Oh yeah, kitty cat? Wouldn’t happen to be a hands-on workout, would it?”

“Maybe. Let’s head back to your room and you can find out.”

“Mmm, I’ll take you up on that.”