Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #17: Relocation]

Log Date: 9/12/12764

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

Sybione Starport: Observation Lounge

11:44am SGT

“Is that the last of them, Markos?” I call down the hall.

“Almost, we’ve got two or three stragglers.” Markos replies, striding down the hall. “Go on, get to your seat. Don’t worry about them; if they’re late, it’s their loss.”

“It might be their loss, but it doesn’t exactly reflect great on us.” I mutter to him as he steps through to join us in the observation lounge. “Sybione’s High Prelate is here. We’re supposed to be making an impression.”

“We are making an impression.” Markos murmurs back. “We’re both in uniform and dressed to the nines, and all the cadets and recruits are in formal. Isn’t that fancy enough for the high and mighty Marshy Prelate?”

“You realize you’re talking to a Marshy, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re not a Marshy politician.”

“Forget it. The point is that we’re supposed to be giving the impression of a well-trained and disciplined security organization.” I mutter as we make our way across the lounge. “Punctuality is a part of that.”

Markos stops, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. “Axiom. Relax, man. Look around you. Does this look like a formal proceeding? No! It’s closer to a goddamn munch n’ mingle! They’ve even got a snack bar and catering set up on the far side of the room. You’ve got people just sitting around and chatting, not lined up in chairs or standing at attention.” Reaching out, he takes a flute of champagne from the platter of a passing waitstaff, picks up my hand, and joins the two. “Relax. I promise you, the Marshy delegation doesn’t give a shit.”

“You say that, but we’ve spent the entire summer season fighting the narrative that the Valiant have been handing our asses to us.” I mutter, taking a sip of the bubbly and swiftly deciding that I’m going to be drinking this only for the sake of politeness. “The incidents on Soiruxia and Talingrad didn’t do us any favors, and they beat us on response to the invasion of Mokasha. The media scorched us over that last one, and with good reason. We need to restore the galaxy’s confidence in us, and we can’t do that by showing up late to a celebratory event.”

“Okay, all good points, but have you considered: some of these recruits and cadets are barely twenty years old.” Markos says, placing a hand on my back and guiding me towards the view window that gives us a view of Sybione’s high orbit. “They’re kids, Axiom. Let them enjoy that.”

“Yeah, I was a recruit at that age, and let me tell you, Whisper would’ve had my ass on a skillet if I had showed up late to a big event.” I retort.

Markos gives me a flat look. “Whisper? Seriously? The giver-of-no-shits?”

“She took my training seriously, so yes. And that was back in a time of peace.” I reply, looking around at the CURSE personnel drifting around the observation lounge. This particular lounge has been closed off to the public for this event, so it’s just us and the Marshy delegation for Sybione. “It’s even more important now, in a time of unrest. Our allies and our backers need to know we are competent; that we can provide the security and stability that CURSE promises.”

“And you need a vacation.” Markos says, backing up to plant his hands on my shoulders and squeezing like he was going to give me a massage. “Gods, son, you are wound up. You’re acting like this little powwow is going to make or break CURSE. Come on, breathe with me. One, two. In, out. Repeat it with me: it’s just a munch n’ mingle.”

“But it’s not just a munch and mingle.” I sigh, closing my eyes and breathing deeply nonetheless. “This is literally a once-in-a-generation event. For the first time, we’re posting the CURSE HQ within the borders of a major nation. It’s an inherently political act with wide-ranging consequences for our relationships with dozens of other governments and organizations that could change the very definition of what we are to the rest of the galaxy.”

Markos sighs, his hands slipping off my shoulders. “I give up; you’re hopeless.” Reaching out, he takes a flute of champagne as that same platter passes by again. “I’ll bite, then. Why’s this such a big deal?”

I give him the incredulous look. “Are you seriously asking me that?” You would figure that the conspiracy theorist would be all on top of a big move like this. “The reason this is a big deal is because CURSE is supposed to be a neutral entity. It’s why the HQ has remained posted around worlds only owned by the Colloquium, and not within any systems owned by member nations. That’s to preserve our neutrality, and show that we don’t favor, or are influenced, by any one nation. This is like, foundational stuff, dude. These are CURSE basics.”

Markos shrugs. “Okay. Just because the HQ is posted in a Marshy system doesn’t mean we can’t continue to help other nations, though. And besides, Vestkong is a more centralized system. It’s easier to reach most of open space from here.”

“Yes, it’s easier, but the subtext is that we’re favoring the Marshies over other nations.” I point out. “Think about it. Who’s going to attack a system with the CURSE HQ in it? Our presence alone provides an additional layer of security for a given system. What about our procurement needs? We’re obviously going to supply the station with material and resources from the Vestkong System, because why pay a shitton in freighting when you can cut the long-distance cost and get most of your supplies locally? And that, in turn, is a major boost for Vestkong’s economy. Surface leave and vacation for CURSE personnel? Where do you think they’re going to go on short breaks and holidays? It’s gonna be here in Vestkong, so mark up another point for Vestkong’s economy. And that’s not even going into a dozen other things that we affect simply by being here. Our presence has consequences, Markos.”

“Huh.” That appears to have actually gotten Markos to stop and reflect. “…okay, fair. You make a good point. I suppose that explains why the Marshy delegation has been so smiley about this whole affair.”

“You think?” I say, sipping from my champagne as I scan the room again. “This is a major win for them. For the Vestkong System, it means a noticeable economic boost, for Sybione in particular, since that’s the world that the HQ will be orbiting. For the wider Marshy Republic, they won’t be getting the economic boost, but they’ll be getting the prestige. The bragging rights. Most importantly, they get the access, or the imagined access, that comes with having CURSE set up shop in one of their systems. And with access comes requests and favors.”

“Yeah, but we won’t actually be giving them preferential treatment.” Markos demurs.

“We’re giving them preferential treatment just by being here, Markos.” I sigh in exasperation. “Were you not listening to everything I just said?”

“Well — yeah, there’s the economic angle, but what I meant is that we’re not going to be doing them any favors we wouldn’t do for another nation.” Markos explains. “It sounds like you’re not happy about this. But you’re the one stressing about making sure we leave a good impression on our Marshy hosts. Which is it, dude? Do you want this to go through or not?”

“It’s complicated.” I mutter into my champagne flute. “On a principles level, moving the HQ to Marshy space is a violation of our commitment to neutrality. But the Administrator is doing it for a reason. Out of the four major human nations, the Marshy Republic is the one that’s most sympathetic to the Valiant, and they’ve been getting a little twitchy after the Challengers returned as the Valiant. So far only the Masklings and the Viralix have tacitly backed the Valiant; if the Marshies gave their backing to the Valiant, it’d grant them the legitimacy that comes with the approval of one of the larger nations. So.” I motion my champagne flute to the delegation members and CURSE staff mingling throughout the observation lounge. “Moving the CURSE HQ to one of their systems is a calculated move to keep the Marshies on the CURSE bandwagon. Because if they fall off, and the Valiant pick up their endorsement…”

“Ah, okay.” Markos says, tilting his head back as if everything was becoming clear. “I get it. So Tenji is playing some four-dimension chess here.”

“The rest of us call it politics, but yes, that’s what she’s doing.” I confirm, keeping my voice down. “I don’t like it, but I see why it’s necessary. The galaxy is changing; if we don’t evolve to match it, then we might not survive what comes next. That’s why I’m concerned about this little… event going well.”

“Well.” Markos says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I am happy to assure you, Axiom, that everything is gonna be just fine. Look around you. The delegates are happy; our people are behaving themselves; everyone’s relaxed.” He taps the lip of his champagne flute to my chest. “And you should relax too. You’ve been working hard these last six months. You deserve to loosen up a bit.”

I take a deep breath. Say what you will about Markos, but maybe he’s right. Everything’s fine; people are relaxed, none of the CURSE personnel have made fools of themselves… so maybe I should loosen up a bit.

“Peacekeepers, it’s a pleasure to have you here.” comes a voice from behind us. I turn around at the same time Markos does, to see… the Sybione High Prelate standing behind us.

Well, so much for relaxing.

“High Prelate! It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Markos says pleasantly. “I’m actually a Captain, Captain Markos, that is. Axiom here is the Peacekeeper.”

I smile and incline my head. “A pleasure to be here, High Prelate.”

“Axiom. It’s an honor to meet one of the Republic’s sons.” the High Prelate says. She’s an older woman that has all the dignity and posture of someone that’s known several decades of statecraft. “You’re a role model and an example for many young Marshies.”

“I just do my best. Nothing more, nothing less.” I demur.

“Well, keep at it. The Republic is proud that you stand as a representative of the good quality of our nation.” the High Prelate says, then turns, motioning out the window of the observation lounge. “My team has informed me that the arrival is about to commence. I admit that this be the first time I’ll have laid eyes on the CURSE HQ in person.”

“Oh, you’re in for a show, then.” Markos promises as all of us turn to watch. It’s hard to see against the backdrop of starry darkness, but the mass beacon in high orbit around Sybione is preparing to open a breach to tunnelspace. Hours and days of calculation and charging have gone into this, with the mass beacon having broken into segments that have formed a circle across a region of space miles wide. Segments had to be pulled from other mass beacons in orbit around Sybione — most vessels using bridge drives are big, both military and commercial alike, but typically not more than a mile across at their biggest.

But the CURSE HQ is not a vessel. It’s an orbital station.

As we watch, electricity starts arcing across the segments of the mass beacon, flashes of light that outline the ring structure in the starry dark. As cool as that looks, it’s merely a side effect of the energy being channeled through the mass beacon; the important stuff is in the center of the ring, where a black hole too small to see is being formed. But even if you can’t see it, you can tell where it is by the way the backdrop of the galaxy lenses around it at the center of the ring. It only lasts for a few seconds, since its entire purpose is to punch a hole in the fabric of the universe that can open up a tunnelspace breach of this magnitude.

Seconds later, that breach is made, and we see it while the lensing in the center of the ring starts to expand. As it does so, the green-black backdrop of tunnelspace, streaked through with tangled filaments of dark matter, comes into the view at the center of the ring. That window into the witchdark quickly expands, with the lensed border stretching around it as it widens all the way out to the crackling ring itself.

“Never gets old.” Markos murmurs beside me. The rest of the lounge has likewise fallen silent, everyone watching the colossal feat of engineering and science unfold before them. Many of them drift forward to the observation window across the length of the lounge, getting a better look at the lethargic, mesmerizing chaos of tunnelspace. Thin, spiderwebby filaments of dark matter are starting to drift through that window into our dimension, like the beginnings of some eldritch invasion.

One that’s thankfully contained as a yellow energy shield manifests from the ring’s edge, slowly expanding inwards and trimming off the tendrils of dark matter as it closes in the center. Beside me, Markos smiles, likely at the rapt attention I’m paying to the whole affair. “Never seen a mass beacon from this side before?” he asks.

“Well, no, but I mean…” I say quickly. “Yeah, I’m usually on the ship that’s coming through the bridge, but I have seen ships arrive through mass beacons before. Not often, but I have seen it. Just… never at this scale.”

“Well, it isn’t every day you get to see an entire orbital station bridge into high orbit.” Markos agrees, sipping from his champagne. “It’s definitely something to behold, that’s for sure. I doubt our earthbound ancestors could imagine we’d one day be able to move a small city into orbit above a planet from halfway across the galaxy.”

“Oh, it’s starting to come through!” one of the recruits says in a hushed voice. Behind the yellow shield is the outline of something truly colossal moving through the twilight of tunnelspace, and as we watch, the lowermost tip of the CURSE HQ breaches the shield like a spear slowly rising from the water. Tendrils of lightning jump and race along the superstructure as that tip broadens out to either side, more of the buildings along the bottom of the HQ pushing through the shield until the main ring of the HQ passes through all at once. Like a crescent moon laid flat, the HQ is thickest near the center of the center of the ring-like structure, and narrowest near the tips. Dozens of floors make up the central arc, with hundreds of independent buildings rising both above and below it, but never into or outside of the ring. The design almost seems silly, until you realize that maintenance hangars and repair yards line the interior of the crescent, giving the station the ability to support a full fleet and provide it cover from outside attacks.

“Now that is something you don’t see every day.” I murmur as the HQ finishes exiting the mass beacon.

“It’s definitely something.” Markos agrees as some of the CURSE personnel start clapping, and the rest of the lounge quickly joins them. What they’re clapping for, I’m not sure — perhaps just the fact that the HQ made it through without complications. As a full fleet of orbital tugs move into position to help the HQ slow down and move into a stable orbit, swarming around the station like a flock of midges around an elephant, I fold my arms and take another sip from my champagne.

For better or worse, we’ve crossed a line and made a choice we can’t take back, and I just hope it’ll be worth it.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Arrivals Platform

8:11pm SGT

It feels strange, stepping through the airlock to the arrivals platform. Nine months ago, the terrorist attack by the Masklings had left it scrunched, deformed, unrecognizable wreckage. Repairs had gotten underway the moment the bodies and debris had been cleaned up, and much of it had to replaced outright, since what had been damaged wasn’t salvageable. For the first half of the year, everyone arriving and leaving had done so through the maintenance docks, which were far more practical and less flattering than the arrivals platform had been. But now that the repairs had been concluded and the replacement platform had finally been installed, we could use the arrivals platform once more, and I realize now how much I missed it.

For one, there’s a lot more space for the most recent class of recruits to fan out on their way through the airlocks. We’d returned to the HQ after our little sightseeing jaunt to the Sybione Starport, which I figured would be a nice treat for this group, getting to attend a catered event and watch an entire orbital station arrive after a bridge jump. It had gotten many of them amped with a new appreciation for CURSE and the importance we held in the galaxy, seeing the scale of the HQ and the majesty it held in motion.

As this training group flows around me and across the arrivals platform, I take a slower pace and reflect on the differences between the old platform and the new one. You can tell there was a rush to get the platform replaced as quickly as possible; this new one is unpainted and mostly metallic gray. It seems bigger, emptier, likely on account of the fact that the water features and little patches of garden along the sides haven’t been replaced yet — presumably they’ll be installed once the piping and wiring in the walls have been completed. The design of glass walls and ceiling from the previous platform have been replicated to preserve the experience of being able to see the rest of the HQ’s inner arc, or the celestial view beyond. But wrapped around the base of the platform, where it joins with the rest of the station, is a telescoping set of blast plates that can be extended out to sheathe the arrivals platform in a protective layer in the event of an emergency.

It’s the compromise that CURSE probably made to preserve the views of the iconic platform, while making a gesture towards improving its structural security and resilience to an attack. I had my doubts about whether it was an effective or sensible measure, but I was also hoping I’d never have to find out whether those doubts were well-founded or not. One builds security features in the hopes that they’ll never be put to the test, after all.

“Dare!” The shout draws me out of my reverie, and I pull my attention away from the platform’s structure. I have just enough time to see a flash of dark hair darting around a recruit before I’m hug-tackled, staggering backwards with a grunt.

“Whuh— Whisper?” I sputter as she hangs from around my neck, the toes of her sneakers dragging over the floor. “Good grief, I wasn’t gone for that long.”

She grins, puffing some of her short black hair out of her eyes. “No, but this is the first time the crew’s all together again. You were the last one missing and now you’re here.”

“Wait, the crew’s all here?” I ask. “Kwyn got back while I was gone?”

Whisper smirks, letting go of my neck and dropping back to the floor. “Knew that’d be the first thing your mind went to. Yeah, she just finished her tour with Ironfist. They got back to the HQ twelve hours before it initiated the bridge jump.”

“Dang, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have volunteered to take the new class of recruits on a field trip…” I say, running a hand through my hair.

“Well, you can keep standing there looking blinkered, or you could come with us to Gritter’s and see her.” Kent says, hopping around a recruit as he joins us. “She’s holdin’ down a table for the rest of us. We were just waiting for you to get here, so let’s get a move on, yeh? Longer she spends sittin’ alone in the bar, the more starry-eyed recruits are gonna be hittin’ on her.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Haha, yes, very funny.”

Kent shrugs his jacket-clad shoulders, falling in step with us as we start walking across the platform. “I’m being serious, dude. Kwyn’s been doing time in the field; the public’s getting to see more of her. She’s starting to rack up fans, and the girl’s a knockout. Put all that together and what you’ve got is a hot young Peacekeeper everyone wants a piece of.” He gives me a sidelong grin. “You can claim you were crushing on her before it was cool, though.”

I roll my eyes, folding my uniform jacket over one arm. “…seriously? She’s already got fans? Inside of CURSE, or out in the public?”

“Both. Her popularity spiked after the footage from the Soiruxia Standoff hit the galaxynet.” Kent says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “PR’s started to put together a team for her, just like they have a team to handle your fanmail and fanclubs.”

“Jeez.” I say, shaking my head. “How’s she handling it?”

“Oh, you know her. Modest as always.” Kent says. “But you should be asking her all this yourself, not getting it from me, so let’s pick up the pace, buster.”

“Look, you and I have long legs. We have to keep the pace down so we can accommodate our vertically-challenged colleagues.” I say, motioning at Whisper.

Whisper clicks her teeth at my hand. “I will bite you, Dare.”

Kent grins. “Vertically-challenged, I like that.”

“I am not short!” Whisper protests, giving Kent a one-handed push. “Five feet or shorter is vertically challenged. I’m five-five.”

“I dunno, I’m always having to tilt my head down to talk to you…” Kent snickers.

“Oh yeah? Watch this!” With that, Whisper jumps onto my back, and I stagger forward, trying to keep my balance. “What now, foo’? Now I’m on your level!”

“Oof. A little more warning next time, please.” I grunt as Whisper wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. “I’m gettin’ old, my back can’t handle sudden surprises like that.”

“Oh hush, you’re barely thirty.” Whisper scoffs. “I’m six hundred and I’m still going strong.”

“You’re also wereckanan, and age fifty times slower than humans…” I point out, adjusting my stride to account for carrying Whisper. With as small as she is, she’s not too much of a burden. “But Kent’s right; let’s pick up the pace. Wouldn’t want to keep Junior waiting on us. To Gritter’s!”

It only takes us another five or so minutes to get there, and when we do the place is packed. The HQ arriving at Sybione looks like it’s given everyone an excuse to get out and celebrate, especially since we’re now posted within visiting distance of a well-populated world with an ocean. Whisper slips off my back as we get to the bar and wind our way in, making our way to our usual booth, where it looks like Kwyn is patiently humoring a couple of operatives that have stopped by the booth to make conversation with her. When she sees us, a hand shoots up to wave at us. “Hey guys, over here!”

“Aaaaayyyyy, look what we brought back for you!” Whisper calls back, making a big show of motioning to me. “One Axiom, exactly as promised!”

“Yes!” Kwyn says, pumping her fist before looking to the two operatives. “It was nice meeting you two. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night!”

The pair nod, give their smiles and say their goodbyes, roaming away as Kent, Whisper, and I slide into the booth’s seats. The moment we’re settled, Kwyn hits the button for the privacy screen with the bottom of her fist, slumping a little as the staticky blue screen goes up around our booth. “Gods, if I had a credit for everyone that’s tried to get my number in the past twelve hours…”

“Yeah, I could tell your patience was starting to wear thin with them.” Whisper says, pulling off her jacket off. “Figured they would clear off if I made it seem like you and Dare had a thing.”

I give Whisper a look. “That’s why you did that?”

“Well yeah, I don’t make a habit of announcing your arrival to everyone in the bar. I know you like being low-key.” Whisper says, folding up her jacket. “Man, it’s warm in here. This place is packed.”

“Of course it is. Everyone’s celebrating that we don’t have to travel three hundred lightyears to reach a planet that has a decent beach anymore; now we’re parked in orbit above one.” Kent says, pulling up the menu on the table. “Sybione’s got a nice biosphere, proper cities, and sports leagues, and an orbital spaceball stadium… what’s not to like? This world is great. Better than one of those desert rocks owned by the Colloquium that we’ve been orbiting in the name of neutrality.”

“Mmmph. Let’s not talk about that, I had to give Markos a crash course in the neutrality principle we’re breaking by posting the HQ here.” I groan, leaning back against the booth’s seat. “The dude can recite conspiracy theories about the Maskling deep state all day, but ask him what CURSE’s guiding principles are and all you’ll get from him is a blank look. I’m surprised he hasn’t caused a major diplomatic incident yet.”

“Now, I can’t say I’ve ever talked to the guy, but the vibe I get from him is a charming idiot that was in the right place at the right time to get a promotion he prolly shouldn’t have gotten.” Kent says, sliding the menu across the table’s surface to me. “And that’s kinda what I’ve gathered from the people I’ve talked to that work under or around him.”

“More or less.” Whisper says. “The dude is not as smart as he thinks he is, and he’s nothing special as far as ship captains go. Cralix was a much better captain of the Justice than he was. Girl ran a tight ship, almost as tight as her constantly clenched buttcheeks.”

Kent snorts. “Is that literal, or…?”

“Metaphorical, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was also literal.” Whisper says, catching the menu as I slide it across the screen to her. “Girl was uuuuuuptight. Prim, proper military brat, all business and no play. I don’t think I ever saw her out of uniform, although lemme tell you, that uniform was tight. Knee-high boots, naval dress jacket left buttoned towards the bottom, white gloves tucked into her shirt cuffs… if you worked under her and you stepped out of line, it was a fast pass to bust ass.”

“I’ve never heard of her. Does she captain another ship now?” Kwyn asks, catching the menu as Whisper slides it across the screen to her.

“Oh, yeah.” Whisper says quickly. “Cralix was never a part of CURSE. I’m talkin’ back in the Challenger days, when the Justice still had a Challenger captain. The program was rotting from the inside out, but one place things weren’t falling apart was on Cralix’s ship. The girl was no fun, but she was straight as an arrow. Never got involved in any shady shit, kept her crew in line, and always tried to represent the best of the program. She moved on after the program collapsed, and I think she’s the admiral for an elite mercenary fleetguard now. Didn’t take advantage of the resettlement agreement, but she didn’t need it. Everyone knew she was a clean, by-the-book type.”

“Did CURSE never try to recruit her?” I ask. “Sounds like she could’ve been a good addition.”

Whisper shrugged. “Just because she was a straight arrow doesn’t mean she liked CURSE. We tried to recruit her just after the fall of the program, when we knew she was out of a job and hadn’t been snatched up yet, but she declined within twenty-four hours of us sending her an invitation to meet. So you can tell she received the message, and only spent enough time to write ‘no’ as politely as she could before sending the reply. I think the administration has reached out a couple more times in the years since, and from what I gather, the reply has always been a fast, polite, and firm ‘no’.”

“Well, at least she didn’t go rogue. And isn’t working for the Valiant.” I say, glancing over to Kwyn. “You done ordering, Junior?”

“Just finished up, and I prepaid. I’ll cover the tab tonight.” Kwyn says, closing the menu. “My treat.”

Kent perks up. “Eeeeyyyy, look at that!” he crows, elbowing me. “Your trainee’s all grown up and covering the tab! Aren’t you so proud?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Does this mean you aren’t grown up, since you never cover the tab?”

“It’s not a rite of passage for me, since I don’t get paid as much as Peacekeepers.” Kent insists. “I’m just a humble lab tech, after all.”

Whisper snorts. “Ain’t nothin’ humble about you and we all know it.”

“Please, I’m the paragon of virtue.” Kent says loftily. “They keep me in the lab because they know I’m too much of a threat on the battlefield.”

“A threat to someone’s booze cabinet, maybe.” Whisper says, before nudging Kwyn. “Thanks, Junior. You didn’t have to do that.”

Kwyn smiles and shrugs. “I wanted to.” Then she looks to me. “How have things been, Dare? You’ve been a bit quiet.”

The question catches me off guard, and I take a deep breath. There’s so much that could be said that I don’t know where to start, and much of it is heavy topics that I don’t know if I want to bring up here. Seeing me hesitate, Whisper glances at me, and our eyes meet for a moment.

“It’s been… eventful.” I say after a moment, shrugging as I do so as if to downplay the answer. “A lot of the usual stuff, and a lot of unusual stuff, with the way the galaxy is right now. But everybody kinda knows that anyway, and besides, I don’t want to bring the mood down with work stuff.”

Kwyn’s tawny-eyed stare remains fixed on me, and I know she’s not buying it. But she’s also graceful enough not to pursue it while we’re with the others, so she just smiles and shrugs after a moment. “Aight. Fair ‘nuff. How about that Talingrad Incident, then?”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started.” Kent says, slamming his hands down on the table. “I’ll be the first to tell you I’m no fan of Songbird, but that rap battle he had with the Venusian king? Shit was fire, yo.”

“You think that was cool?” Whisper says, leaning forward. “Like, I don’t like to admit it, but that zero-gravity tango he did with the morphox music idol? That was hot. Downright volcanic.”

“I was impressed he managed to make it to the end of the concert without any pants.” Kwyn says, hitting the button to drop the privacy screen as our drinks arrive. “That’s gotta take some crazy confidence during a live broadcast to the rest of the galaxy.”

I shake my head, taking my drink. “I just can’t believe he fought that many ninja bears with one hand while using the other one to sign autographs. It’s just insane.”

“Oh, are you guys talking about the Talingrad Incident?” the waiter asks, pausing before he departs. “The porcupine dodgeball part was crazy.”

Someone close to our booth overhears, and leans over. “Are we talking about the Talingrad Incident?” she asks as the topic takes root and starts to spread across the bar. “I didn’t know Songbird knew how to play the electric saxophone, or that he could transpose the Mercurial national anthem into swingtime jazz!”

“Oh! What about the part where he juggled twenty-eight kittens and didn’t drop a single one? Mad crazy skills!”

“Man, forget the kittens! Why is no one talking about how he managed to bake a twenty-minute cake in thirteen minutes while beatboxing for the morphox’s pop rap number?”

“I’m just surprised the Talingrad planetary police didn’t shut down the whole concert when a dragon showed up to the party…”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Axiom’s Quarters

11:04pm SGT

I’m sitting out on the balcony of my room, staring across the new starscape as visible from Sybione’s high orbit, when I can feel my phone vibrate. Looking down, I can see a text from Whisper asking to come in.

“System, open door.” I call over my shoulder through the balcony door. It hisses open a moment later, then closes, and I can hear Whisper’s light footfalls across the floor as she makes her way across the room, stepping out onto the balcony with me.

“Enjoying the new view?” she asks, flopping down into the other chair on the balcony.

“It’s a different view of the galaxy, that’s for sure.” I say, studying the brilliant patches in the night sky. “The Vestkong System is slightly above Myrrdicato’s disk. It allows us to see parts of the galactic core from here, since the view isn’t as obstructed by clouds of stellar gas and dust.”

“Does make for a better view than the one we had in the last system we were posted in.” Whisper remarks, then looks to me after a moment. “So what was all that about tonight? With Kwyn in the bar.”

I press my lips together, swirling the creme fizzwater I’ve got in my other hand. “It’s… hard to explain.”

“I ain’t got nowhere to be tonight.”

“Okay, well… what I mean by that is that I still don’t really understand it, so you’re going to need to give me a little bit to think about it, so I can explain it.”

“Alright. I can wait.”

I nod to that, taking a sip of my fizzwater as I go back to staring out at the stars. After a few moments, I take a deep breath. “She’s different. You can see it. She’s more relaxed, more confident.”

Whisper thinks about that, then nods. “Yeah. She is.” She looks at me. “Do you not like that?”

“No, it’s just… how do I put this.” I tap my middle finger against the side of the glass bottle, trying to find the words for what I’m feeling. “She’s not the same person. And I feel like… I’ve missed out on seeing her grow into a different person over the last six months.”

Whisper shrugs. “That’s to be expected. She shadowed six different Peacekeepers on six different assignments in different parts of the galaxy. She’s probably learned a lot, and is starting to become more comfortable, and better, at using her powers.”

“Yeah. That’s a good thing.” I agree. “I just… she’s not my trainee anymore, she’s not even a trainee. She’s a Peacekeeper, albeit a junior Peacekeeper, so she’s my equal now, and I don’t… I don’t know what our relationship is, how to interact with her. What’s the right way to be around her?”

Whisper puffs a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Stop beating around the bush, Dare. We know what’s really on your mind. You’re still interested in her.”

I purse my lips, looking away and sipping from my fizzwater.

“You could always give it another try. See if she’s open to it.” Whisper suggests. “You told me she had her eye on someone else and wanted to take a pass at them, but that was what, eight, nine months ago? Has she taken that pass yet, or what?”

“I haven’t pried.”

Whisper snorts. “Of course you haven’t.”

“Well I don’t want to look like a creep!”

“There’s nothing creepy about asking someone if they’re available!”

“There is if they’ve already turned you down!”

“Yeah, nine months ago, and she’s still single! How the hell else are you supposed to start a relationship? You sure as hell can’t read people’s minds, and they sure as hell can’t read yours! You need to talk to her, Dare; the answer’s always gonna be a no if you don’t ask the question in the first place.”

“I did ask her, and she already told me no!”

“Yeah, nine months ago.”

“I don’t wanna keep asking and look like one of those guys that doesn’t know how to take no for an answer! Personnel Resources would have an aneurysm, and besides, shit like that’ll get you canned faster than a sardine in a processing factory. Not to mention opening up CURSE to lawsuits—”

“Jesu goddamn christi, what’d PR do to you? Run you through the yearly harassment training again?” Whisper demands, leaning forward in her chair. “Relationships require risk, Dare. You’re never gonna get close to someone if you spend all your time cowering in the shadow of PR’s rules and regulations. And before you say anything about the workplace, yes, I know she’s your coworker. But our work is not normal, Dare. We spend half the calendar year traveling, the other quarter in field ops, and the last quarter here at HQ. And not in those nice big chunks — our time is constantly broken up into coming and going, hopping around the galaxy, and we don’t get the luxury of staying in one place long enough to form stable relationships. We form relationships with the people we spend the most time with, and that’s other operatives and Peacekeepers, because they’re out there with us, living the same life we do. Always coming and going. So screw PR’s rules! We’ve got a right to find and enjoy relationships, even if that means finding it in the workplace.”

I try to find something to say to that, but I can’t, and so eventually I just huff out a breath and take another sip from my fizzwater. The thing is, I don’t disagree with what she’s said, because she’s right. The life of a CURSE operative isn’t a stable life; we don’t have the luxury of stability like normal people with normal jobs do. And if we were to play by the same rules that normal people played by, very few of us would ever be able to have relationships. We spend our time, day in and day out, around our coworkers. It’s hard to find a relationship outside of the workplace when you literally sleep and live in your workplace or its associated properties at all times.

“What if she turns me down again?” I ask, breaking the silence. “That’s going to make it so awkward for all of us to hang out together.”

“You’re just fishing for excuses at this point.” Whisper says, holding a hand out for my creme fizzwater. “You will always be able to find an excuse to not go for it, Dare. There will always be some rule, some social expectation, some taboo that will say that you shouldn’t do what you want to do. That’s just how it goes in human societies; you all treat sex and romance like it’s an obstacle that keeps society from functioning properly, and you come up with all these rules and regulations to keep it cordoned off from… like, almost everything—”

“The rules are in place for a reason—” I start, handing the bottle to her.

“The rules are stupid.” Whisper says, snatching the bottle from me. “There’s sensible rules, and then there’s the asinine legalistic bullshittery that PR, and resource departments across the galaxy, churn out in order to protect their companies from equally asinine and obnoxious legal systems. Have I ever told you that human-engineered court systems suck? Because they do.”

“And those also exist for a reason.” I point out as she takes a swig of the fizzwater. “Though I will admit that you’re right; they don’t work very well sometimes.”

“They work like dogshit. Your rich assholes get off left and right while the court drives the poor into poverty. Although that’s the courts enforcing the law, so really, it’s your laws that need to be blown up and rewritten.” Whisper says, taking another swig before going on. “But all of this is a distraction, which you were probably hoping I hadn’t noticed. The point is that there will always be an excuse. If you want Kwyn, then throw away the excuses, break a couple rules, and take the risk. If you’re not gonna do that, then stop whining about not having a girl you’re not even trying to chase.”

I don’t say anything to that, at least not right away. Whisper’s got a point; I shouldn’t be complaining if I haven’t put the effort in, or made the attempt. But I don’t like the feeling I get when I think about what happens if I make an advance, and get rejected again. I don’t like feeling like a fool, and I don’t want Kwyn to drift away the same way Roya drifted away.

“Yeah. I guess.” I say eventually, holding out a hand so I can take my drink back. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Whisper looks at me, and judging by the look, apparently I hadn’t hidden my doubt as well as I should’ve. She eventually hands the fizzwater back. “Break some shit, Dare. Just do it. Yeah, maybe Kwyn turns you down. Yeah, maybe it’ll be awkward for our group afterwards. Yeah, maybe she’ll stop hanging out with us. And yeah, maybe you’ll feel the fool for putting so much effort into helping her become a Peacekeeper, only for her to run off without acknowledging that. But you can’t waltz through life treating everything like it’s glass. Take some risks. Reach for the things you want. And if it breaks, it breaks. Learn the lesson and keep moving. Do it better the next go ‘round.”

“I said I’ll give it some thought.”

“Alright. Sorry.”

We go back to sitting in silence, neither of us in a great mood. I take slow sips of my fizzwater, staring out at the stars and trying to get my thoughts in order, and finding that they keep wandering in directions I don’t want them to go. Directions that don’t let me relax.

“Sorry.” I admit eventually. “There’s just been… a lot on my mind. Not Kwyn, but other things. But the Kwyn thing doesn’t help.”

Whisper’s ice-blue eyes flick to me. “The Valiant, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Join the club. Everyone’s been thinking about it ever since we found out they managed to reclaim Sunthorn.”

“Is there anything we can even do about them anymore?” I ask. “At this point, I just feel like… they are… like we have to live with them now. Like it’s not possible to get rid of them anymore. It feels like this is something we will have to deal with for the next few years, probably longer. Maybe a decade, or even more.”

Whisper takes a deep breath in, her chest rising and falling as she exhales it. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s probably… they’re a thing now. They’re prolly gonna be a thing for a while.”

“I’d figured.” I say softly. “What do we do about that? What are we even supposed to do? If we can’t take them down, are we just supposed to run counterops against them until we wear them down? Gods, I felt something inside me shrivel up inside the moment those words came out of my mouth.”

“I dunno.” Whisper says, shaking her head. “That’s what the administration gets paid for. Figuring out how to take down insurgent groups and rival organizations. We’re just here to go where they tell us to go. Fix what they tell us to fix.”

“So we shouldn’t think about it, since we’re not paid to stress about it.”

“Ideally, yeah. But it’s kinda hard not to think about it when it could destabilize the entire galaxy and change everything about your work life.”

“Yeah.”

We both lapse into silence again with that, and Whisper holds out her hand for the fizzwater again. I pass it over to her, and she tilts all of it back in a single go. “Any luck with the Spark?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Whisper nods. “Maybe no news is good news.” Pushing up out of the chair, she heads back towards the doorway, pausing next to my chair to give me a one-armed hug, topped with a passing kiss on the head. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long day. We’re posted above a new world for the first time in a decade, so tomorrow can be a brand new start. New chances.”

“Mmh.” is my muffled response before she lets go. “Have a good night, Whisper.”

She nods, stepping back into my room and leaving me alone on the balcony. A few seconds later, I hear the door to my room hiss open and closed, leaving me with just the silence of the empty balcony, and the white noise of the HQ’s systems humming in the background. Lacing my fingers over my stomach, I stare out across the field of stars and the way they seem to spiral down to the bright patch of sky at the center of the galaxy, like a vortex that moves on the magnitude of aeons. Somewhere out there, among those swirls of gas and dust, I know the Valiant are on the loose, with at least two Sparks in their ranks, possibly more.

And sooner or later, I’m going to cross paths with one of them.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Tenji’s Office

9/13/12764 4:54pm SGT

I take a deep breath in, then let it out, reaching up and knocking on the Administrator’s door.

It’s only about ten seconds before the door splits open, allowing me into Tenji’s spacious office. I step in, crossing about halfway to stand in the center as the door closes behind me once more. Tenji is sitting behind her curved desk in her swiveling chair; the wall behind her desk is transparent, and looks out over the inner arc of the HQ. From this high tower at the center of the HQ, one can see ships coming and going from the HQ, and activity on some of the slopes of the lower decks, where one can see into their large, glass-walled observation lounges.

“You wanted to see me, Administrator?” I ask, remaining at attention.

Tenji does not answer right away. The holoarrays in the room have projected screens onto the walls, most of them playing footage and clips from various Songbird encounters over the last year or so. Tenji herself is watching one such screen playing against the glass wall behind her desk, her chair mostly swiveled away from me, but I can see the images reflected in her glasses.

“You know, we gave him a good deal.” she says. “Back when we finally caught him. It took years to hunt him down after the fall of the Challenger program; he was slippery. But we finally caught him. And we didn’t have to do it, and he didn’t deserve it, but we gave him the option to take the resettlement agreement. He could get a second chance, a fresh start, in a civilian life under Vaunted supervision. We let him have that. An act of goodwill on our part, trying to bury the hatchet so that the past could be the past, and we could look forward to the future.” She motions to the screen she’s watching. “And after all these years, he decides to come back and throw it back in our faces. Ready to pick up where the Challengers left off, and keep fighting that war under a different name. He just couldn’t move on and let it be.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Tenji might be using royal pronouns, saying we and our, as if speaking for CURSE in the general, collective sense, but her tone and posture betrays that this goes further than that. The way she talks about Songbird’s rejection of the resettlement agreement, it reads more like a personal betrayal of goodwill, rather than a betrayal of the organization’s goodwill. As if she was the one that made the choice to show mercy to Songbird all those years ago, and now it had come back to bite all of us in the ass.

“You couldn’t have known at the time what he would do, years into the future.” I offer. “You were trying to bring peace and stability to the galaxy. Trying to bury the hatchet was the right thing to do at the time.”

“The right thing to do, but simultaneously idealistic and misguided.” Tenji says, turning her chair a little more to face me. “If I’d had the spine for it back then, I would’ve given the order to have him disposed of when we caught him. And if I had done that, we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in today. Many of our problems spring from that decision to show him mercy, and the blame for that falls on my shoulders.”

I shake my head. “You did the right thing in showing mercy. What he chose to do with it is not your fault.”

Tenji’s pink lips press together, as if she didn’t quite agree. “I know you and the others will say it was the right thing to do at the time. And yet I can’t help but think that if we’d finished him off all those years again, everything that’s happened in the last year wouldn’t have happened.” She stands out of her chair, moving to the window to stare through it. “The Masklings wouldn’t have had a reason to attack us because their fate wouldn’t have been bound up with the Valiant. We would not have lost two dozen people to the sabotage on the arrivals platform. We have lost other people to clashes with the Valiant over the last year, but the Maskling attack on the HQ is what weighs on me most heavily. The majority of our losses that day were civilian. Those were not people that signed up for the kind of danger that our operatives face on the daily.”

“That might’ve happened regardless of whether Songbird was still alive or not.” I point out. “CURSE has never gotten along with the Masklings. We’d likely still be butting heads with them today even if Songbird wasn’t part of the picture.”

“That’s true, but their involvement with Songbird and the Valiant exacerbated those tensions.” Tenji counters. “I’m sorry if I come across as contrarian. These are things you think about when you’re in a position of high responsibility. How every choice has consequences, how one thing leads to the other, wondering if the choices you made long ago have led to the struggles of the present, and how much responsibility you bear for that.” She takes a deep breath in, turning from the window to look at me. “I need your help, Darrow. I need to be ready to fix this if I end up having to stepping in and taking care of Songbird myself.”

A shiver runs up my back. I’ve never seen Tenji in combat before, and for a long time I’d always imagined it was just because she was just an executive. Over time, and watching the respect that Nazka gave her, I’d slowly realized that she must have some tactical experience or power that he would defer to. And now, I’m realizing that I’ve never seen her in combat not because she doesn’t want to fight, but because things had never been bad enough that she needed to get involved.

Until now.

“How can I help?” I ask. If the Administrator called me here specifically to ask for my help, then I can only imagine how important this must be.

“Songbird is powerful. I know you’ve seen that firsthand.” she says, motioning to one of the screens that shows the feed from my visor while Songbird was attacking our convoy at the Masklings’ Cradle. “It’s not a matter of debate; it’s a fact, and one we have to live with. At present, there are not many within the Peacekeeper ranks that could withstand Songbird, much less defeat him decisively. Even I am… not sure I could muster the kind of power needed to take him down.” She looks directly at me. “We have to change that.”

I nod. “I’m with you so far. Sounds pretty simple. But how do we… match that level of power? Like… we are Peacekeepers. We are the best of the best; most of us are already capped out, at the top of our game.” I gesture at one of the screens that holds another angle of the convoy battle in the Cradle. “Forgive my language, but he summoned a goddamn spirit dragon that breathed lasers, clobbered the shit out of both Nazka and Kwyn at the same time, and wrecked an entire platoon of operatives and me as well. How the hell are we supposed to compete with that?”

“There are ways.” she says, starting to walk around the office and organize some of the screens, closing some and grouping others. “I know Songbird, better than most other people do. He might look invincible, but he has weaknesses.” Taking one of the screens, she starts to tap and drag her way through the footage. “The convoy battle was a resounding defeat for us, but confirmed that some things haven’t changed since Songbird was a Challenger. I watched through the footage, several times, from the angles that we had recorded. Songbird is a sonic sorcerer, and what he did during that fight was a product of that unique arcane talent.” Pausing the footage, she takes the screen and turns it to me so I can see the still frame of Songbird putting his hand to his ear just before the fighting started. “But it has its limits.”

I stare at the still frame, then at her, trying to get my head around that. “So… you’re telling me… what exactly? That he used music to summon his space dragon?”

“Songbird is powered by music. That is quite literally the entire foundation of his Challenger codename.” Tenji says. “He generates energy and raw power while listening to music. And he can generate vast quantities of it. No music, no power. So if we can prevent him from listening to music when we encounter him, it should make it easier to handle him.”

For a long moment, I just stare. And I try not to say what’s coming to mind, but I just can’t hold it in. “I’m just sorry, that just sounds…”

“Stupid? Yeah, I know.” Tenji snorts, pushing the holoscreen away. “Trust me, it sounded stupid years ago, and it still sounds stupid now. The fact that keeping the most dangerous man in the galaxy at bay is dependent on keeping him from listening to his workout playlist is… well, let’s just say I’ve seen conspiracy theories that make more sense than this, and Markos comes up with some pretty harebrained shit.”

“Oh, he tortures you with that stuff too?” I ask, folding my arms.

“He tortures everyone with it.” Tenji sighs, massaging her temples. “One of these days he’s going to cause a major diplomatic incident. But my point is that there are ways to deal with Songbird, to bring him down to a more manageable level, if we can just keep him from tapping into that power source.”

“Well, even if you stop him from using his sonic sorcery, he’s got a Spark.” I point out. “If it’s not one thing, it’s the other. Is there a way to keep him from using his Spark?”

“Not that I know of.” Tenji says, looking around at the other holoscreens. “And that was the reason for the trip to Chibundi, and why I took so many Peacekeepers on that excursion. I knew the only way you could compete with a Spark was if you had one of your own, and I was hoping that one of us would end up with it. But everyone said that they didn’t receive it, and nobody has exhibited Spark abilities in the months since. And so we are back a square one, looking for the means to get our operatives on the level that Songbird is at.”

I keep my expression carefully neutral, even as my heart rate picks up a bit. Not much had been said about the Sparks since that visit to Chibundi, and until I figured out how to use the one I’d received, I wasn’t going to reveal that it had been given to me. “Are there other ways to do that? I thought a Spark was the only way to compete with someone like Songbird.”

“There are. Difficult to find, but they’re out there.” Tenji says, grabbing one of the screens and pulling it over. “It’s what I’ve had the research departments working on ever since we found out the Valiant acquired Sunthorn Bastion. It took a while, but… we have leads. We have hope.”

Opening up a file, she passes the holo screen to me. I take it, pulling it close and leafing through the assignment details, doing a skim read since there’s some pretty dense paragraphs next to the images in the file. “This I can… kinda understand. It’s a Dragine artifact?”

“That is the preserve world near the core of the galaxy where our research department thinks an artifact resides.” Tenji explains. “We are not completely sure, and we will not know until we investigate it ourselves. But an archaeology project we funded recently has turned up evidence that the Dragine may have used this world to store valuable assets during the War.”

“The War from thirteen thousand years ago, with the gods and all that?” I ask.

“That’s the one.” Tenji nods. “This is new information, not yet widely available to the public. We have first dibs on the findings, so to speak, since we funded the project. It goes to show the importance of investing in the sciences, even if the Preserver Academy can be a bit… vexing at times.”

“Yeah, scientists aren’t exactly great at taking orders.” I say, opening up the map of the galaxy in the file to see where the system is. “Do we know what this artifact can do, or…?”

“It can probably do a number of things. But we are pursuing it for the information it is believed to contain.” Tenji says. “And if that information pans out, then we may be able to get access to something that can do away with Songbird and the Valiant altogether.”

I mull that over. “So we have information, that may lead us to something that contains more information, which may lead us to… some magic solution for the Valiant?” I ask doubtfully. “What’s this ‘something’ that’s supposed to be at the end of this scavenger hunt? Is it a weapon, or…?”

Tenji gives a rueful smile. “There’s some things so classified I can’t even share them with Peacekeepers, Darrow.”

I know that look. I’m not going to get an answer, even if I press for it. “Alright. I just… it’s bit hard to go out chasing ghosts, after the Spark thing.”

Tenji’s lips draw tight. “Yeah. I know.” she says, tucking her hands in her the pockets of her business slacks as she looks away. “Trust me, that did not turn out the way I wanted it to either. I was… really hoping that would be our answer, our counterpoint to Songbird and Jackrabbit. Lord knows we needed it, and we dumped plenty of resources and personnel into it. But sometimes the gamble doesn’t play off. That’s life. It was a tough dud to swallow, but we don’t have the option of throwing in the towel just because it didn’t pan out. Songbird’s still out there; the Valiant are still out there, and they’re still a problem. So we gotta keep looking for solutions. That’s our job.”

I nod, passing the holoscreen back to her. “Understood. Suck it up and get back to the grind, right?”

“Spot on.” she says, taking the screen back and placing it with the others. “I’m going to be sending you and perhaps another Peacekeeper out to investigate that lead soon. And even if it doesn’t pan out, we’ve got a couple others that the research department managed to dig up in different parts of the galaxy. So even if this one’s a dud, we’ve still got options. We won’t be putting all our eggs in one basket.” She looks back to me. “Any other questions?”

I shake my head. “Just let me know when you need me.”

“Good.” she nods, clasping her hands behind her back. “Well, with business out of the way — how are things going with Ms. Resquill?”

That catches me off guard. “Oh. They’re going… fine, I guess. Why do you ask?”

Tenji shrugs. “I know that you’re fond of her, and it’s been a while since you two were last on the HQ at the same time. It’s been… half a year since she started training with other Peacekeepers and shadowing them on assignments?”

“Yeah, about that long.” I say, trying not to fidget with my hands. “We’re okay. She’s doing her thing. I’m doing mine.”

Tenji seems to take a moment to parse that, then turns and starts closing screens on the holoarray. “If you don’t want to talk about it, Darrow, that’s fine. Just say so and I can leave it.”

“No no, it’s not that I don’t want to talk about it.” I say quickly. “It’s just that… it’s a complicated thing.”

Tenji shrugs, closing out another screen. “Attraction is like that. I hope it works out for you; she really is a sweet girl. But if not… there’s plenty of other stars in the sky.”

I blow out a long breath. “…honestly, if she’s not interested, I may just throw in the towel for a while.”

“You don’t say?” Tenji asks, her curious crimson irises finding me for a moment. “It’s not like you to give up.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” I begin, running a hand through my hair. “I was talking with Whisper the other night, and thinking about how things work for us, for Peacekeepers and operatives that get deployed frequently. And I guess talking to her made me realize that we don’t have the stability that’s good for long-term relationships. Often they’ll have flings with each other, but it never lasts very long, not for those of us that are active-duty. I’ve been thinking about it, and thinking maybe that’s just not in the cards for people like us. Solid relationships, that is.”

Tenji takes some time to absorb that, fiddling with one of the screens she was closing out. “…yes, I suppose that is true. It’s one of the sacrifices we make in service to the rest of the galaxy. We give up access to the romantic opportunities that could be found outside the workplace. And there are complications that naturally accompany dating within the workplace, as Personnel Resources is always so quick to point out.”

I nod glumly. “That was the other part. PR’s always watching.”

“Indeed. I see why long-term relationships face far more obstacles in our workplace than they do in others. I suppose I understand why you would want to take your hat out of the ring, considering those conditions.” Tenji says, closing the screen and looking down at her hands. “I have no comfort for you, Darrow. Everything comes at a cost, whether it is for ourselves or for others. Power, influence, opportunity, freedom, security — each of these things require sacrifice, whether you are obtaining it for yourself, or on behalf of others. I’ve learned that lesson more times than I care to count, and it still stings sometimes. The only consolation you have is to tell yourself that it will be worth it in the end — and to try to believe it.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for. I was hoping she’d tell me there was a solution, there was hope. But I suppose this answer is the more realistic one, and would be more of a service than giving someone unrealistic expectations or hopes.

“Guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.” I say with a bit of a sad smile. “No point in whining about it. Just do the best we can with what we’ve got.”

The rueful quirk of her mouth comes back. “That’s really all we can do.” Turning, she motions to the office door, which unlocks and opens. “But don’t let me keep you here with my melancholy. You’re still young. Go out; take chances. You never know; failure may be the rule, but there are always exceptions to the rule, and your relationships might be one of them, if you’re willing to give it a swing.”

I nod. That’s at least a better note to end on. “Thank you, Administrator. Also… you do realize you look younger than I am, right?”

She chuckles at that. “It’s only a look, Darrow. Like I said earlier, everything comes at a cost. Immortality included.” She gives a shooing motion. “Go get along now. I know it’s close to dinner and you like to eat with Whisper and Kent when you can.”

“Understood, Administrator.” I say, giving her a quick salute before backing towards the door. “You have a good evening.”

“You as well, Darrow.”

Leaving her office, I start down the hall, waiting until I hear the doors close before I pull out my phone. I’m about to tap out a message to Whisper asking if she wants to do dinner on the officers’ deck tonight, but as I’m scrolling to her message thread, I come across the one I have with Kwyn, and I pause. Thinking about what both Whisper and Tenji have said about taking risks, even if they might not pan out.

For a moment, my thumb hovers over the message thread, lingering on the wild, crazy thought that maybe it would pay off. I almost do it; I tap on the thread, and my thumb hovers over the text field.

But then I think about how rushed that would seem, asking out Kwyn merely a day after I’ve returned to the HQ. I don’t want to look desperate, or like a creep. It would be better to wait, given it some time, then test the waters. So I lock the screen and tuck my phone back into my pocket, even though I know that all I’m doing is making up excuses because I’m scared of failure.

I’ll wait for now.