Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #4: Pact]

Log Date: 8/16/12763

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka; Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Kitchen

3:49pm SGT

The beeping of the microwave pulls me out of my reverie.

Reaching up, I open the door and pull out the bowl of reheated vegetable soup within. Setting it on the tray on the counter, accompanied by a couple of slices of bread and closed cup of ginger ale, I pick up the tray and turn about. “Is he awake, Dandy?”

I’m almost out of the kitchen before Dandy answers through the interface next to the kitchen door. “Yes, he’s awake. No change in status; he’s still quiescent.”

“Let’s hope he’s feeling a little hungrier than he has been over the past few days.” I reply as I head down the halls of the Drift, making my way to the residential quarters. It’s quiet, as it usually is; though the Drift could easily house a full scientific team, CURSE has never bothered putting much funding towards our department. The smaller the staff, the less they have to pay.

As I pass through the commons room, the galactic news catches my attention, and I slow down a little to watch the headline. “Sightings of hiveships near the border of Halfie space have raised concerns that the Collective is considering another system grab. Ships from the Halfie Protectorate’s 3rd Fleet have been dispatched to the region in concern, though such moves are viewed as largely symbolic in nature, given the strength of the Collective armada…”

“Ms. Arrignis?”

“Coming.” I respond to Dandy’s voice coming from the commons room console. I pull my eyes off the window screen and the images of fleet officers waving goodbye to their families, getting back on my way.

Arriving to Jazel’s room, I give the door a couple knocks, but I don’t wait too long for a response. Dandy remotely opens the door for me, and I step in.

The first thing you notice upon stepping in is that it definitely isn’t like other rooms. It’s a dim, half-lit place; he never uses the room lights. All the illumination comes from traditional lanterns hanging from the ceiling or the corner of the room; his desk is neat, but definitely full and stacked with books and scrolls. Bookshelves take up one corner of the room, while a table on the other side of the room has a big glass terrarium filled with insects. The entire room smells faintly of cinnamon and coals, which I’m told is the usual scent for witchlings like Jazel.

Jazel himself is sitting in his bed, staring at the mirror hanging on his closet door. Moving over, I set the tray down over his legs, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him and smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the quilt. “Sleep well?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer. I look at the mirror and see that he’s staring at his reflection; the scars on his cheeks are still glowing blue and have been ever since we brought him back from Vissengard. Reaching up, I touch his shoulder tentatively.

It snaps him out of his staring contest with himself, and he turns to see me. “Hullo. Sorry. I was thinking.”

“It’s okay.” I say, reaching out to rap the tray with my knuckles. “Lunch. Dinner. Whichever one you want to call it.”

He looks down at the tray, reaching out to touch the spoon, picking it up. “This is the soup you made a week ago.” he says quietly. “For dinner.”

“Wow, surprised you noticed.” I say, hints of sarcasm making their way through as I pick up the salt and pepper, tapping a little into the bowl. “Made a whole pot of the stuff, but I’ll be honest, I get sick of my own cooking when I’m the only one eating it. Figured I’d share, and it was about time you graduated from broth to chunky stuff.”

He sets the spoon in the bowl, slowly stirring around the soup but not saying anything. He’s been like this ever since we got back, distant and wall-eyed, like everything is reaching him through a thick layer of haze. I’d tell myself I appreciate the quiet, but I really don’t. I want to hear his comebacks to my sarcasm; it doesn’t feel right when he just sits there and takes it. Sometimes I wonder if he even hears me, and I worry that he’s been damaged after having his soul jammed back into his body the way it was.

“Is there anything you need while I’m here?” I ask softly.

There’s no response, the spoon scraping quietly around in the bowl. Shifting a little to get a better look at him, I realize that he’s not even staring at the soup; his eyes are unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular. The spoon just keeps going round and round in circles in the bowl, like his body has been left on autopilot.

It’s unsettling.

I reach over and grab his wrist, to stop him from the endless stirring. “Jazel.”

His eyes slowly come back into focus, as if he was returning from whatever distant place he had gone to, and looks down, letting the spoon rest on the rim of the bowl. “You were right.” he says quietly. “It was never going to work. I shouldn’t have gone down there.” He pauses a moment, the words fading into the cinnamon-scented silence of his room. “I’m sorry.”

I slowly let go of his wrist. In the twenty-some years I’d known Jazel, he’d always been mild, but stubborn. His curiosity was an unapologetic variant, one that was more interested in asking questions than asking forgiveness. Admitting that he had taken it too far was rare, and showed that he had been shaken, and was vulnerable.

Putting an arm around his shoulders, I pull him close and rest my head against his. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather be wrong and see you happy than be right and see you like this.”

He slumps against me, looking and feeling small and defeated, and I slowly rock him back and forth, both of us silent as we come to terms with our admissions.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Conference Room

8/17/12763 11:19am SGT

“He’s slowly been improving. He was catatonic immediately after we rescued him, but recently he’s been moving around, doing things of his own accord, starting to shower and dress himself again. We’re doing daily uplink checkins with the doctor in Helios Settlement, and he’s cautiously optimistic that Jazel will eventually make a full recovery.” I explain, reading off the notes I’d typed onto the conference’s table’s glass surface. I look up to the widescreen against the back wall, where the screen is unevenly split between CURSE Administrator Tenji and Deputy Administrator Nazka.

“I’m glad to hear he’s on the road to recovery.” Tenji says, reaching up to adjust her glasses. She’s a slight woman in a suit, with her smooth scarlet hair pulled back in a ponytail and some of her locks left free to frame her face. “Your mission is, of course, important, but the welfare of our operatives comes first and foremost. What about yourself — are you well?”

“I’m fine. Nothing but a few scratches from running through the woods.” I answer, leaning back in one of the conference room chairs.

“Well, since you are safe and your coworker is on the road to recovery, we can turn our attention now to the assignment itself.” Nazka says. He’s a lean individual, in a black business suit that matches the black hair that is kept clipped away from his eyes, which are occasionally hidden behind the glare of his narrow, rectangular, rimless glasses. “Three months, diplomatic relations with a fringe world considerably damaged, and the Vaunted taking over the assignment after one of our operatives was nearly killed. We’re just lucky this occurred in frontier space instead of a metropolitan system, otherwise the media would’ve had a field day with it and it would’ve been a PR disaster. Care to explain what happened here?”

I take a deep breath in. “Jazel and I disagreed on how to handle the situation. The situation fell apart because that, and much of that falls on me, I admit that. The situation here is also a cultural minefield; the settlers and the natives don’t get along, and we had to navigate that divide, which slowed things down considerably. Tensions are high all around; the settlement mayor made several litigious threats, so we have been conducting our duties under… pressure. That may have contributed to the breakdown in communication between Jazel and myself.”

“We have your checkin reports here.” Nazka says, a finger flicking over his desk, probably going through our report files. “I’ve noticed some are surprisingly skimpy on details for an assignment that stretched over three months. Is there anything you’d like to add to them now?”

“That’s how it goes with long assignments. Sometimes you end up playing the waiting game.” I explain. “Some days pass with nothing to report, or only minor changes as you wait for the main event or for your trap to spring. It’s not uncommon in the field of arcanological ecology.”

“This was not marked as a long assignment, though.” Tenji cuts in at this point. “When the request was first made, it was assessed to be a short assignment. Tracking down and neutralizing a soul-eating monster on Vissengard. But your checkin reports show that you took the resettlement route instead. Was there a reason you decided to take the resettlement approach to this assignment?”

“Jazel was under the impression that we could resettle the soul stealer.” I explain. There’s really no way to sugarcoat that, so I don’t even try. “I didn’t agree with him, and I don’t know that it would’ve been possible, but I have to admit that he was making progress before the assignment was taken off us.”

“Humor me, because I’m not familiar with your line of work.” Nazka says. “How do you resettle a soul stealer?”

I don’t have a ready answer for that. “I… I don’t know. Jazel knew more about the creature than I did. But he was convinced he could make it work, and Jazel doesn’t do something unless he thinks it’s possible.”

“So this attempted resettlement would not have been in keeping with the standards for your industry.” Nazka says, staring over the rims of his glasses at me.

“Not as such, no, but we’re arcane researchers.” I say defensively. “We experiment and try out new procedures. That’s how we discover new things, and expand the boundaries of what our industry considers possible.”

“Sounds risky.” Nazka remarks, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “And expensive, where your department’s finances are concerned.”

“That may simply be the nature of the department. Exploration and discovery aren’t known for being cheap or simple endeavors.” Tenji says, leaning forward and steepling her fingers together. “What I want to know more about is this soul stealer. What led Mr. Jaskolka to the conclusion that it could be resettled?”

I shift in my chair, glancing aside to the desk and the notes I have written on it. “Well, the creature in question is sapient. Her species is not an endangered one; in fact, they have a healthy galactic population that’s decently integrated into many existing civilizations; she just happens to be one of the more… extreme examples of this species. He thought we might be able to resocialize her.”

“Extreme? How do you mean?” Nazka asks.

“Well, to start, she’s at least four hundred years old.” I point out.

“There are many species with lifespans equal to, or longer than that.” Nazka interrupts.

“Yes. There are.” I agree tersely. “But not hers. She’s a Rantecevangian morphox. Contemporary lifespans for their species average around a hundred and ninety years. She’s lived more than double that.”

“I’m sorry, she’s a what?” Tenji asks, leaning forward. “You said something and it sounded like it was seventeen syllables long. I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Rantecevangian morphox.” I repeat, more slowly. “Multi-tail fox person. And before you ask, she is not a vulpine Halfie, nor a wereckanan Vixili. We already ruled those out early on.”

“Alright, so she’s lived a long time.” Nazka says, tapping his stylus against his desk as he raises an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“No. She’s a walking artillery cannon.” I retort flippantly. Nazka’s dismissive and disdainful demeanor is getting to me. “We don’t know where she gets her power from, but she managed to launch arcane attacks on the settlement from over a mile away, obliterating portions of the local library, an entire supply depot, part of the mayor’s mansion — twice! — and a playground.”

“And your friend thought he could tame this feral… anomaly?” Tenji asks. “He thought it would be possible to resocialize her?”

“Well, he was certainly trying.” I point out.

“And we see where that got him.” Nazka counters.

I can’t argue with that, so I just fume silently, holding in a retort that would probably get me fired.

“It appears to me that this entire misadventure was ill-advised, and represents a lapse in judgement and foresight.” Nazka continues on, the disapproval in his voice evident. “As I pointed out at the beginning, it has cost us in terms of diplomatic relations and reputation, and the damage was contained only by the incident’s remote location. Considering what happened here, we are going to initiate a wider review of the independence with which the Drift has been allowed to operate, and determine whether that will continue to be the case as we move forward.”

“In the meantime, we have set up an assignment schedule that will keep you close to metropolitan systems.” Tenji adds, in a much kinder tone than Nazka. “The assignments are simple, straightforward, and lack the danger of many of your prior assignments. We think this will be a good way to ease Mr. Jaskolka back into his Preserver duties.”

At the same time that I want to protest it, I have to admit that it makes a certain amount of sense. With the state Jazel’s in, it’s going to be a while before he’s got his head back in the game. “Alright.” I sigh, resigning myself to it. “Send it to us whenever you’re ready. We’ll get on it once we’ve got the skipper back.”

“What happened to the skipper?” Nazka asks, pausing in from where he was preparing to get up out of his chair.

I rub a thumb over my brow. “Jazel took one down to the surface, I took the other to follow him, but on the return trip he obviously wasn’t well enough to pilot, so I took him back up to the Drift in one skipper. The other one’s still sitting on the Helios settlement airfield. I would’ve gotten it back by now, but Helios hasn’t exactly been… welcoming.”

“They’re not allowing you to go back to the surface to get it?” Tenji asks, perplexed.

“As I understand it, Jazel had a little encounter with Mayor Grimes while he was recovering the pylon crystals that we were using to power the protective barrier around the settlement.” I say, thinking about how to phrase the next bit. “The mayor demanded to know why we were leaving them without protection, and Jazel may have implied that the settlement deserved it for replacing us with the Vaunted.”

There’s a moment of silence as both the administrator and her deputy process that.

“Your friend is not a diplomat, is he?” Tenji asks after a moment, somewhat rhetorically.

I shrug. “He’s a Preserver, not a politician. He was hired to explore and collect things, not play word games and manipulate people.”

“He may want to start exploring new career opportunities.” Nazka mutters.

“I understand.” Tenji says to me. “Try to get the skipper back. If the settlement won’t play nice, let us know. We can explore our options and apply legal pressure to retrieve our property if necessary. Are there any other questions?”

“Ah, no. Thank you for the meeting.” I reply, nodding my head in respect.

“Very well then. Take care of yourself, Ms. Arrignis.” With that, the administrator’s window goes dark, and the deputy administrator’s window follows suit soon after. The screen reverts back to its desktop display, and I slump in my chair, blowing out a long sigh, massaging my forehead as I close my eyes.

“Dandy!” I call after a moment.

The console by the door of the conference room clicks on. “Alcohol is not the answer, Ms. Arrignis.” she says apologetically.

“Dammit, how’d you know?” I mutter, pushing myself up out of the chair. “Fine. I’ll take a milkshake, then. I don’t care what flavor.”

“Shall I bring up the romance selection of holos in the common room?”

“Please. It’s going to be one of those days.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Bridge

8/18/12763 9:58am SGT

“I don’t like it.” I mutter, folding my arms.

Dandy looks up from her console, staring at the image of Vaunted frigate on the bridge’s main screen. “They haven’t expressed an interest in us, and have made no attempt to contact us. As far as I can tell, they present no threat to us.”

“Don’t care. I hate warships. They make me nervous.” I mutter, tapping a foot rapidly against the floor. “Have you been tracking their activity?”

“Idly, yes. In the last few days, there have been several troop transports deployed between the frigate and Vissengard, usually at morning and evening.” Dandy answers, cupping her pale hands in her lap. “I believe they’re deploying teams to the surface in the morning and taking them up in the evening.”

“I wonder how they’re going about tracking down the creature.” I make an effort to keep my foot still once the tapping becomes audible. “Has Helios responded to our request for landing permissions yet?”

“They denied it again.” Dandy answered. “This was the request that had the full explanation of the purpose of the surface visit.”

“Now they’re just being spiteful.” I mutter, walking over to the console that Dandy’s seated at and leaning over her shoulder. “Did they give a denial reason?”

“No. They simply denied it.” Dandy says, bringing up the denied request on the screen.

“Hmm.” Reaching over, I scan through the request form, then turn my attention towards the top corner, where there’s a resend button. Reaching up, I give it a tap; a window pops up on the screen reading Request resent.

After a moment to contemplate that, I start jabbing the resend button as fast as I can.

“Ms. Arrignis!” Dandy exclaims after a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Sending a message.” I reply, my finger still jackhammering against the resend button.

“This is more than one message!” Dandy protests as the screen starts to fill up with duplicated Request resent windows. “This is at least thirty messages!”

“You’re right.” I agree, adding another finger to the screen and tapping them back and forth to maximize my button-tapping rampage. “That’s not nearly enough.”

“That’s enough!” Dandy says, grabbing my wrist and holding my hand away from the screen. “This is obnoxious and redundant. You have sent forty-seven requests for landing permissions to the settlement. A single request would’ve sufficed.”

“A single request wouldn’t have gotten the message across.” I reply. “Perhaps they’ll pay a little more attention when their inbox blows up and they realize we aren’t leaving until they let us take our skipper back.”

“That is not the proper way to express your frustration in this dispute.” Dandy insists, starting to clear away all the Request resent windows littering the screen. “I understand that you are growing impatient with the settlement’s intransigence, but cluttering their inbox with duplicates of the same request will solve nothing. If they will not give us landing permissions to retrieve the skipper, the next course of action is to inform CURSE so they can take legal action.”

“I wonder if they would try to shoot us down if we went down there with anyway.” I wonder idly. “They’re just a frontier settlement; they don’t have any planetary cannons, at least that I saw. I think I did see a few mid-range turrets posted around the settlement walls, though.”

“You cannot seriously be considering going down there without landing permissions!”

“What are they going to do, shoot down an unarmed vessel? Skipper ships don’t have weapons systems. I bet that would look real good when CURSE takes them to court.” I say, looking down. “Is there a reason you’re still holding my wrist?”

Dandy looks at my wrist, and hastily relinquishes it. “You are not going to embark on a gambit that could cost you your life. I will not permit it; a skipper ship is not worth your life. We will instead inform CURSE of the settlement’s refusal to comply—”

She’s cut off as the tone of an incoming call sounds on the bridge. We both look to the main screen to see that it’s originating from the settlement; after a moment, Dandy accepts the request for comms. A window opens up on the main screen, showing Deputy Milor slouched in a chair in what appears to be the Helios airfield tower.

The first thing he does is take his toothpick out of his mouth. “Why. Just why.”

I shrug. “You guys kept ignoring us.”

“Yes, but forty-seven requests for landing permissions?”

“Apparently that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skulls.”

“Okay, look.” Milor says, throwing up a hand. “If it was up to me, you could have the skipper back. I don’t give a good goddamn about your friend mouthing off. But the mayor does. I know it’s stupid, I know it’s petty, but that’s just how Grimes is. He’s a politician. He holds grudges and he gets even. Him keeping the skipper down here is his way of leveling the score.”

“Milor, I cannot leave without that skipper.” I say, bracing myself on Dandy’s console. She scoots her chair to the side a little so I can stare right into the screen. “That is a department asset, which is, by extension, a CURSE asset. And low-orbit skippers are not cheap. This arkship is not going anywhere until that skipper is back in our hangar.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, blondie.” Milor groans. “I work for the sheriff. The sheriff works for the mayor. The mayor says that any landing requests from the Preservers are to be denied. If I go against that, I break the chain of command, and I can’t do that. I got bills to pay, blondie.”

“Her name is Preserver Arrignis.” Dandy says tersely.

“Look, strawberry soda, this is an A and B conversation, and you need to C your way out of it.” Milor drawls, his widebrimmed hat tilting slightly towards Dandy.

“Watch your tongue, Milor.” I warn him. “This is the Drift’s native intelligence. You’ll show her the same respect you show me and Jazel.”

“I’m just tellin’ it how it is, blondie. She’s not part of this conversation.” Milor says, using his toothpick to scratch at his brow. “It doesn’t matter how many landing requests you cram into the settlement’s inbox; I can’t grant them. The mayor said you guys can't come back down here, and there’s nothin’ I can do about that.”

I push off the console, folding my arms. “Okay then.” I say. “If you’re not allowed to let us come down there, then why don’t you take the skipper and bring it up here to us?”

Milor points the toothpick at me. “I know what you’re gunnin’ for and that’s a smart loophole, but I’ll still get in trouble for that.”

“Says who? You’re just returning property to where it belongs. That’s entirely legal.” Leaning forward, I lean one hand on the console, and the other on my hip. “Besides, the deputy is an officer of the law. At the end of the day, your loyalty is to the law, not to a politician exercising his power out of spite. Right?”

Milor narrows his eyes at me. “You remind me too much of my college girlfriend.”

I smirk. “Let me guess. Lawyer?”

“Criminal justice reform major. We didn’t date for very long.” Reaching down out of screen, Milor comes back up with the bottle of Venusian whiskey I gave him, and works on uncapping it. “I’ll think about it. It’s gonna take some planning to pull it off, if I do decide on it.”

“You want me to throw in another bottle of Venusian whiskey?” I offer. “I figure that may help quicken your decision-making process.”

Milor pops the cap off the bottle, taking a whiff of it and sighing. “Make it two, and I’ll consider it.” He reaches forward to his console, ending the call, and the screen goes dark.

Straightening up again, I look aside to Dandy. “Remember when you told me alcohol is not the answer?”

Dandy narrows her brilliant blue eyes at me. “I do not appreciate your forthcoming smugness.”

I reach out, tapping her nose with a smirk. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” Turning around, I head towards the bridge’s door. “I’ll be in the kitchen going through my alcohol cabinet. You can join me, if you want to learn a bit more about what makes a good vintage whiskey.”

The only response is a soft hmph on her part, but after a moment, I hear her get up out of her chair, skipping after me as I leave the bridge. “I doubt there’s anything you could teach me that I wouldn’t be able to research on the galaxynet, but I will humor you.” she says loftily.

I smile as the bridge’s door spirals shut behind us. “We’ll see about that.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Cold Storage Rooms

8/19/12763 2:15am SGT

“Today, the Venusian Grand General filed a motion for military action against the Collective. The motion was supported by several human systems that have unofficial ties to the SCORN political action group, and the motion reached the threshold needed to move the motion to a wider vote. The galactic Colloquium is scheduled to vote on the measure next week; though the motion is expected to fail, the margin by which it will do so is suspected to be narrow. Anonymous sources within the Colloquium have said that proponents of the motion may add language to the motion authorizing more restrictive laws on Maskling communities and more severe penalties for Masklings that break those laws, in an effort to get the motion over the vote threshold to make the proposed military action a reality. When reached for comment, Maskling advocacy groups and the Maskling government stated that the rumors, if true, would amount to penal and legislative discrimination, and that such language would immediately be challenged in the courts…”

“Dandy, you mind if we switch back to a music station?” I ask as I close the lid on one of the feedstock bins, and wait for the light around the rim to turn green, indicating that the stasis seal is back in place.

Dandy looks around from where she’s closing another bin. “But you requested this station.” she points out. “Do you not want to listen to the news?”

“I thought did, until I was reminded of how depressing the galaxy is right now.” I say, moving onto the next open bin and closing the lid. “Galaxy’s a mess. Has been for a while. Who elected these people to lead, anyway?”

“Well, the Venusian Grand General is actually an appointed position, which is at the discretion of the Venusian Monarchy, who are obviously not elected.” Dandy says as the door console cuts from the news station over to a music station. Some sort of fluffy pop song that sounds like it might be a cover by Blueberry Bubblegum.

“That would explain the Venusians having an idiot in command, but not the elected representatives of the other nations.” I mutter, moving back to the door now that we’ve finished the biosphere’s daily feed duties. Dandy falls in step beside me as the door to the cold storage room spirals shut behind us. “Why do they want to go picking fights with the Collective? They know they can’t win. It’s like picking a fight with a black hole. The black hole is going to get its way eventually — it always does.”

“It is the nature of organic species. They fear for their survival.” Dandy answers. “You and Jazel should understand this well enough. Cornered animals lash out and struggle up until their dying moments. Nations and races are the same way.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I admit as we walk down the hall. “But fighting the Collective isn’t going to achieve anything. They’re too big. You can never defeat them, and no matter how many you kill, there are always more… eventually, they’ll take over the galaxy, and we’ll have to flee this one the same way our ancestors fled the Milky Way a billion years ago.”

“Statistically speaking, that seems very likely, if distant.” Dandy agrees. “But accepting that is admitting defeat. Nations and leaders are unwilling to do that.”

“They would rather fly into the fire like moths, instead of flee from it.” I say, shaking my head. “If that motion passes, I wonder how many lives are going to be wasted trying to curb the Collective and take back lost worlds.”

“I thought you would be more vehement in your opposition to the Collective.” Dandy remarks as we reach the lift, the doors sliding open so we can step in. “Considering they terraform every ecosystem they reside in and assimilate any organism that’s susceptible to their spores. They seem to be a large threat to the galaxy’s overall biodiversity.”

“Well, yeah.” I say as the doors close. “Biosphere access deck. It bothers me that the Collective are what they are and they do what they do, but what am I supposed to about it? All I could do, even if I was to do something, is try to rescue unique species from the worlds they’re likely to take over. And that’s a ridiculously colossal undertaking, given the biodiversity of most planets with virgin ecosystems. It would only be possible with a full fleet of worldships dedicated to the task, and that’s never going to happen.” I shrug. “It’s a problem that’s bigger than me. I can’t do anything about it, so I don’t get worked up over it.”

“I believe the resources are there. It’s merely the collective will that’s not.” Dandy points out. “I wonder why they were considering adding Masklings to the motion. They’re not nearly as big a threat as the Collective.”

“A lot of people conflate the two.” I explain as the lift rises through the decks. “The Collective and the Masks share some similarities, despite being two entirely different races. Both of them have a history of assimilating or taking hosts against their will, they tend to absorb the strengths and diversity of the creatures that are brought into their flock, and they have cultures that diverge from mainstream galactic culture in many places. A lot of people see them as the same devil with different faces.”

“Have you ever met a Maskling?” Dandy asks as the lift slows, and the doors open, letting us out onto the access deck that runs around the biosphere’s equator.

“Even if I had, how would I know?” I ask, stepping out onto the deck. “You can’t tell they’re a Maskling unless they tell you themselves, or you watch them die and see the Mask come off. And it’s not like I run around, grabbing people’s faces and yanking to see if it’ll come off.”

“I want to meet one someday. Just to see what they’re really like.” Dandy says as she follows me. “I think it’s fascinating that they’re able to become something more. That they’re able to transcend the limitations of race and physical form by merging with other creatures that are outside of the boundaries they wish to surpass.”

I look back at her. “You worry me sometimes, Dandy.”

“I said that it fascinated me, not that I supported it.” Dandy says hastily. “It is, of course, a terrible thing for them to do if the Maskbearer is not willing.”

“Glad we’re on the same page there.” I say as I come to the monitoring console on the access deck, and start scrolling through the biosphere’s stats. “Do you know if we’ve made any progress on our sustainability commitments for the permanent biomes?”

Dandy clasps her hands behind her back. “Given that we have been in low orbit around Vissengard for the better part of four months and have not introduced any new species into the biomes, no. The wetlands biome’s flora and microbacteria web remains unbalanced and prone to algal blooms, and the savannah’s food chain still requires an additional predator species to pare back the herbivores and prevent overgrazing.”

“If we just leave the savannah biome, overgrazing will eventually lead to a population collapse when there’s not enough food to go around.” I say, bringing up the directory of the savannah biome’s native species. “The problem seems to resolve itself.”

“The population problem resolves itself; however, it will not resolve before overgrazing endangers the survival of select floral species that we are trying to preserve within the savannah biome.” Dandy points out.

I grimace. “Man, this is never easy. If we don’t introduce another predator species to do some population control, we’ll going to have to start culling some of the herbivores ourselves. Do we have any good predator candidates for temporary residency in the savannah biome?”

Dandy shrugs. “There are a few; as usual, the vorcruelians are at the top of the list. If we introduce a pair of them into the savannah biome, we could handle the overpopulation problem while simultaneously halving our feed costs for the vorcruelians, at least for the duration of their residency in the savannah biome.”

“Well, let’s check in on them, then.” Bringing up the database for the temperate biome, I pull up the camera feeds, then pause. “Dandy, did you notice Jazel left his room?”

“Yes, he has been doing that more and more frequently over the past couple of days.” Dandy confirms. “Usually not for very long. He seems to tire easily, but his excursions have gradually been getting longer, which I take as a sign of his recovery. I see that he has ventured into the biosphere this time.”

“Yes, he has.” I say, my eyes lingering on the camera feed where he’s curled up next to Ravoc in one of the temperate biome’s meadows, along with the rest of the vorcruelians. “I don’t suppose we’ve heard back from Milor yet?”

“We’ve had no communications from the settlement since your last conversation with the deputy.” Dandy says, her muted distaste evident on the last word.

“We need that skipper back.” I mutter. “Staying here makes me itch. I want to leave before Jazel fully recovers. The longer we remain, the stronger he gets, the more likely he is to change his mind and go back down there.”

“You believe he will go back down there even after what happened to him?” Dandy says, looking perplexed. “It’s more dangerous down there than before. The settlement is hostile; the Vaunted do not appreciate interference; and the monster still wants to kill him, from what you have told me.”

I glance askance at her. “Dandy, you’re currently talking about the person that wandered into a meadow full of overgrown feral flying firebreathing cat lizards and decided that would be a good place to take an afternoon nap.”

Dandy’s face scrunches up. “…point taken. What are you going to do if Milor doesn’t bring back the skipper?”

Resting my hands on either edge of the console, I go back to watching the feed where Jazel’s sleeping among the vorcruelians. “I’m going to tell HQ and ask them to send a Peacekeeper.”

“A Peacekeeper? That request seems a little extreme.” Dandy says, her brows coming together.

“Peacekeepers bring the full weight of CURSE’s authority with them.” I explain. “They are not individuals you brush off or ignore. If that’s what it takes to get the skipper back so we can leave, then that’s what I’ll do.” I take a deep breath. “I need to get Jazel out of here before he fully recovers. Even if he seems shaken right now, I’m worried that his fear will wear off, and he’ll go back down there. And I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Would you like me to restrict his access to critical ship functions and the hangar, as a precautionary measure?” Dandy asks. “I can also monitor his movements around the ship.”

“I don’t see a need for that. Yet.” Pushing away from the console, I look up at the massive biosphere, watching as it slowly revolves within its housing. “Let’s just hope that Milor loves a good bottle of whiskey enough to defy his mayor.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift — Biosphere, Temperate Biome

8/20/12763 4:31am SGT

“It’s good to see you up and about.”

Jazel looks over his shoulder as I walk towards him. Standing at the edge of the temperate biome in his pajamas, he’s been here for nearly an hour, staring through the glass panes. I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind, but I figured I’d check in and see.

“They’re here, aren’t they.” he says as I come to a stop beside him, my shoes sinking into the grass. “I saw the outline of a ship as the sun was coming out from behind Vissengard this morning. The shape didn’t look civilian.”

I only consider lying to him for a moment. “Yes, the Vaunted are here. They’ve been here for several days now.” While I could lie to him, I don’t want to. I want him to trust me, even if telling the truth makes things a bit harder. “They’ve been sending teams to and from the surface daily, according to Dandy.”

“I see.” is all he says.

It’s hard to find something to say to that, so I just stay quiet for a bit. “We plan on leaving once we have the skipper back. HQ has put us on a schedule of low-intensity assignments near metropolitan systems, so we can ease you back into your duties once you’re well enough to do so. This also means that we’ll just be a hop and a skip from proper medical facilities, so we can get a doctor to take a look at you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel okay.” he says quietly.

I look aside at him, tracing a finger along the straightline scars on one of his cheeks. They still glow faintly. “Just because you feel okay doesn’t mean you are okay, Jazel. She did something to you. We need to find out what it is.”

Jazel reaches up, moving my finger away from his cheek. “I’m fine. Let’s just leave; I don’t want to stay here. The longer we stay, the more I think about what’s going on down there.”

I let out a sigh. “We will. As soon as we get the skipper back. We can’t leave without it. I know you don’t want to be here, but we can’t just leave behind CURSE property, especially something as big as a skipper.” Dropping my hand, I tuck both back into my pockets. “I’ve spoken with Milor. He might do us a favor and bring it back up here, since the settlement has effectively banned us from coming back to the surface. I’ll check in with him tonight and see where we stand on that.”

Jazel lets out a little sound at that, but doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps staring through the glass at Vissengard, its vast forests and mountain ranges half-hidden underneath a sparse quilt of clouds. I watch along with him, letting the silence linger, broken only by the sound of the insects humming throughout the biome.

“Have you been sleeping well?” I ask after a bit. Trying to get a read on how he’s doing.

Jazel doesn’t answer right away. “I dreamt of my past lives.” he says at length, and softly.

It takes me a moment to process that. “Your past lives, like… previous incarnations? I thought that was just a legend. I didn’t think that happened to Aurescurans anymore.”

“It’s supposed to be a choice now. That’s what the church said when I was growing up.” Jazel answers. “Aurescurans have the option of being reborn again, instead of it being a curse that is forced on all of our people.”

That’s a lot to take in. And I’m not entirely sure I actually believe it. “Were they nice dreams?”

“They were memories.” he answers, hands coming up to cup his elbows as if he was hugging himself. “Arbitrary. Random. I took the kids to school in one. In another I was doing someone’s finances. In another one I was learning to ride a bike, fell off and skinned my knee. In another one I was having a shouting match with my husband. All from different times, different lives. Little flashes, little snatches, like a bunch of books had been shredded, and all the pieces had been mixed together and then thrown to the wind.”

I raise an eyebrow. “A husband? You were gay in one of these memories?”

His green eyes flick to me, then away again. He doesn’t say anything.

My eyes widen, and I can’t help grinning. “Oh. You were a woman. Now that’s interesting. Go on, spill. What was it like?”

“I don’t remember much. The memory is faint now.” Jazel mutters, hunching his shoulders. “They’re like smoke, fading after I wake up, slipping through my fingers. But they bother me. Right after I wake up is when they’re strongest, and I am not sure who I am. It takes a bit before I remember myself, the me that is now, here in this life.”

My amusement fades as I remember the way Jazel had stared blankly off into nowhere when I’d brought him food. Like his mind was somewhere else; now I understood where it’d been. Reliving past lives, old memories, trying to draw the line between the people he’d been and the person he was now, perhaps getting confused in the process.

“Jazel.” I say softly. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” he mumbles again.

“You’re not.” I reply firmly. “You had your soul torn out of you and shoved back in, and it was messy going back in. Now you’re having dreams of your prior incarnations. We need to have someone look at you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Were you having these dreams before?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, but I know what that silence means.

“I’ll find an in-network doctor in the system where our next assignment is located.” I say, tucking my hands back into my pockets. “They can do a general evaluation, and if there’s anything that’s not right, we can get a referral to a specialist. But this isn’t normal, Jazel. I don’t know a lot about your heritage, but Aurescurans aren’t supposed to remember their previous lives, are they?”

It takes a moment before he answers. “No.” he whispers. “We’re not.”

“Then you’re not fine. Something’s wrong.” I say, taking a step closer to him and bumping my shoulder against his. “You want to get better, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Alright then. Let’s get you to a doctor when we’re done here, then.”

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drift: Common Room

8/21/12763 10:12am SGT

“Hey Dandy, have you seen Lysanne?”

Dandy looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch in the commons, her brilliant blue eyes focusing as if she’d been remotely handling some logistics task. “Jazel. It is good to see you up and about once more. Ms. Arrignis is in the hangar; Deputy Milor will be arriving shortly with our missing skipper.”

“Oh.” I say quietly, pulling my shawl a little tighter around myself. “She didn’t tell me. Thanks for letting me know.” Turning from the doorway, I turn to head for the lift that will take me down to the Drift’s hangar.

“Wait, Mr. Jaskolka. Allow me to accompany you.” Looking over my shoulder, I can see that Dandy’s standing now, brushing down her uniform as she crosses the room to join me. “I would like to meet this Deputy Milor. I do not have the opportunity to meet many new people, given how I am tied to this vessel.”

“Oh. Of course.” I say softly, starting down the hall again, now with Dandy at my side. She slows her pace to keep up with me; we reach the lift without a word, the doors closing behind us as we step in.

The lift is quiet as it descends through the decks. My gaze remains fixed on the seam of the doors in front of me while my mind chases memories, drifting fragments of last night’s dreams. The memories haven’t stopped coming; they’re not as intense as they were on my first night back, but they’re persistent. Every night I’m pelted with little bits and chunks of other people, people that I once was. People that I used to be.

“Mr. Jaskolka?”

It takes a moment for that to process. I look at Dandy when I realize she’s the one that said my name. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but Ms. Arrignis has gone through much on your account over the last several days.” Dandy says without looking at me, her eyes fixed on the doors. “No matter what you think of her at the moment, I want you to be aware that what she does, she does for your welfare. She has protected you from more than you know, and without her intervention, I believe CURSE would’ve kicked you off this vessel long ago.”

I’m quiet while I take the time to process that. It feels like the words are loaded, and I’ve never been good with implied meanings. “What are you wanting me to do?” I ask, since it seems like Dandy’s asking me to do something, I just can’t quite figure out what that is.

“I want you to consider the consequences of your actions from now on.” Dandy says as the lift slows, and the doors open. “You are often reckless, and act without regard for the potential detriments, fixated only on what you stand to gain. It has endangered both yourself and Ms. Arrignis at various points, and Ms. Arrignis usually has to compensate for your behavior. Please consider this in the future.”

My first instinct is to bristle at the words. Nobody likes hearing that they’re a danger to their friends. I know Dandy’s got a point, even if she does have her own motives… but my head hurts, trying to process this when my head’s already crammed full of all the lingering emotions from so many different past lives. “I’ll think about it.” I mumble, shuffling out of the lift and heading down the hall towards the hangar’s entrance.

“Please do.” Dandy say as she steps out of the lift, following me to the entrance.

The door to the hangar spirals open for us, and we step through to find that the hangar’s exterior doors have already opened up, the environmental shield holding in the atmosphere. Outside, the skipper is lining up to pull in and land; Lysanne is standing at the foot of the stairs, arms folded.

“Ms. Arrignis, would you like me to begin charging the Drift’s tunneldrive to prep for our jump to the next system on the assignment schedule?” Dandy says, starting down the stairs while I remain at the top of them.

Lysanne looks over her shoulder. “Hey, Dandy. Yeah, go ahead and map us so we can gravity-sling away from Vissengard and then proceed to tunnelspace. How’s it doing, Jazel?”

“Hey.” I say, giving a little wave from beneath my shawl.

One of the hangar’s alarms sounds as the skipper starts to pass through the environmental shield, and we all look forward again. Milor’s visible through the windshield of the cockpit, easing the skipper into the landing lane and pulling it up to the parking outline projected onto the floor of the hangar. As he powers off the engines, the hangar doors start to close, and the embarkment ramp folds out from the side of the skipper.

“Oh shit.” Lysanne says suddenly, glancing at Dandy. “I forgot the whiskey. Dandy, can you go grab that for me?”

“Which one? You have several in your cabinet.” Dandy asks. Bootclomps echo across the hangar as Milor starts down the ramp.

“The Ragnar vintage. He can’t say no to that.” she says. Dandy nods, and starts back up the stairs.

“Well, one thing I can say about your skipper is that it sure handles smooth.” Milor calls as he makes his way across the hangar to us, reaching up to tilt the brim of his hat back some. “Would probably fold like wet paper the moment you point a plasma cannon at it, but that’s the smoothest atmospheric exit I’ve had in fifteen years.”

“It’s a research flyer, not a combat fighter or a freight hauler. If someone’s pointing a plasma cannon at it, then we’re somewhere we’re not supposed to be.” Lysanne responds. “But I appreciate that you—” She stops suddenly, her head tilting up a bit to look past Milor; I follow her gaze to the skipper’s hatch, where there’s someone else stepping out. For a moment I’m worried he’s brought the mayor with him.

But then I see the silver tails and the vulpine ears, and I realize it’s something far worse than that.

Lysanne’s expression must’ve changed as well, because Milor slows a little. “What’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned. “You kids looks like you’ve seen a ghost—”

“Jazel, get back to the upper decks!” Lysanne shouts, reaching to her beltline. “Milor I swear to the gods I’m going to string you up by your thumbs—”

“Whoa whoa, what’s the deal?” Milor says, holding up his hands as Lysanne yanks a card out of the deck holder on her belt and holds it up, the edges sparking with electricity. “I brought your damn skipper back and there’s not a scratch on it…”

The morphox pelts down the ramp, her side-cut skirt fluttering as she curves a path across the hangar towards Milor, leaned low and picking up speed. The sound of bare feet over the hangar floor catches his attention, and he turns around just in time for her to slam an open palm against his chest. A ring of blue light ripples out from the impact; Milor stumbles back, wheezing and clutching his chest, and she strikes him another three times, blue rings rippling out from each hit. He staggers for a moment, then topples over on the hangar floor and doesn’t get back up.

“You are not getting your filthy foxy mitts on him again!” Lysanne snaps, throwing the card. It streaks across the hangar, hitting the morphox and detonating with a thunderclap; when the flash fades, I can see Kayenta is crouching on the ground, having been shoved back by the electrical blast, with smoke drifting off her midriff-baring shirt.

But her august eyes are burning with determination, and aside from scorch marks on her shirt, it doesn’t look like she was fazed by the hit.

“I think you need to draw a stronger card, Ms. Arrignis.” Dandy says, sounding concerned as she grabs my upper arm and starts pulling me back.

“That was a strong card, that was a ten of storms!” Lysanne shouts back as she yanks another card from her holder. This one ripples and turns translucent between her fingers, like it’s made of water. “And it’s randomized, I can’t choose what comes out!”

“I have waited half a moon for this moment.” Kayenta growls, her voice low but carrying across the hangar as she rises to her feet again, and her gaze leaves Lysanne to rise to me. “Come here, my frail little sacrifice. Let’s finish what we started.”

A shiver runs up my back, and I pull my shawl closer around myself as my heart flutters. A surge of weakness runs through me when I feel her hungry eyes on me, and I feel a whisper of something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Fear.

“Dandy, get Jazel to the upper decks! I’ll cover the retreat!” Lysanne orders, throwing her next card. When it hits Kayenta, it explodes like someone took five swimming pools and threw them together all at once. Water bursts out from the point of contact in gushing waves that rush across the floor of the hangar, while Dandy yanks me back towards the hangar’s entrance.

“Wait!” I say, fighting against her. “We can’t leave Lysanne! And what about Milor?”

“The deputy will be fine, and Ms. Arrignis is coming—” Dandy says, tugging on me as Lysanne turns and starts pelting up the stairs.

Before she gets halfway, though, the fountain of water in the middle of the hangar twists and warps, then billows open. Standing in the center is Kayenta, shaping the liquid with fluid, graceful motions; a swing of one arm and a push of her hands sends the water rushing across the hangar. It overtakes Lysanne, and Kayenta clenches her open hands into fists; the entire wave freezes solid, trapping Lysanne with from the shoulders down.

“Shit!” Lysanne gasps, the cold stealing her breath. “Jazel, run!”

“You ought to listen to her.” Kayenta calls, stalking across the hangar and starting up the stairs. She reaches out, punching Lysanne in the side of the head as she passes her; another blue ring ripples out from the impact, and Lysanne sags, unconscious. “Go on, run. Get my blood racing. I want to hunt you.”

“We cannot delay any longer.” Dandy lets go of my arm, and instead catches me around the waist, demonstrating the hidden strength of her Cyber frame as she practically lifts and carries me through the hangar entrance, the panels spiraling shut behind us. Except where they normally click closed, there’s instead a crunch. Dandy stops, and we both look back.

In the center, where the panels would typically meet, there’s a spike of ice blocking them from fully closing. The panels spiral back a little to try and close again, and when they do, more water flows through and freezes, widening the aperture. The panels spiral back a little more, and yet more water flows through and freezes in place…

“That is not good.” Dandy states, turning and running towards the lift at the other end of the hall. “We must get to the bridge. I will initiate a shipwide lockdown once we are barricaded there.”

“But what about Lysanne and Milor?” I demand, trying to brace myself from bouncing against Dandy’s shoulder.

“Both are unconscious but my threat analysis indicates that the intruder does not appear interested in harming them so long as they stay out of her way.” Dandy answers as we reach the lift, and she sets me down. “They will be fine for now.”

“Fine?!”

“Relative to being dead, unconscious is an acceptable status.” Dandy says, pulling me in as the doors open.

She hits the button for the access deck, and the doors close, though both of us startle when something shoots through the doors and buries itself in the wall between us. It’s a narrow spike of ice; looking back through the cracked hole it’s left in the glass doors of the lift, we can see the morphox stalking down the hall towards us, dripping water with each barefoot step. She holds out one hand to the side, water drawn from her soaked clothes, traveling along her arm, and rising above her hand to form into another narrow spike of ice.

I let out a strangled sound. “Why aren’t we moving?!”

“She’s damaged the lift.” Dandy answers, jabbing the screen again; a warning that says Obstruction Detected is flashing on the glass.

Looking up again, I see Kayenta flick her raised hand, the ice spike racing down the hall. I throw myself to the side of the lift just in time to dodge it, though it slices through my shawl and pins it to the wall behind us.

“Dandy!” I shout, pressing myself back against the corner of the lift as Kayenta closes in, her august eyes practically glowing through her raven hair.

“Override!” Dandy snaps at the lift. “Authorization: Dandelion Primary!”

There’s a whirring as the lift’s brakes release, and a scraping of metal on metal as it starts to rise. Kayenta disappears from view, and I gasp out a breath as my knees fold beneath me. “How’d she get on the skipper? Did Milor really not notice?”

“Questions that are currently irrelevant to the situation at hand.” Dandy answers, reaching down and pulling me back to my feet. “We will alert the Vaunted to our situation once we are on the bridge. At the moment, surviving the trip there is our primary objective.”

“Can’t you- can’t you lock her down?” I stutter, bracing myself against the wall. “Detect which corridors she’s in and seal her off?”

“I am attempting to do so now.” Dandy replies, her tone still neutral and flat as the lift slows to a halt, and the fractured glass doors open. She pulls me out of the lift, marching me around the corner and down the hall that leads to the wraparound deck spanning the biosphere’s equator. “She moves fast and is evasive. I am not sure how she is circumventing my attempts to seal her into a single corridor.”

As we emerge onto the wraparound deck, I manage to catch my stride so I can stay even with Dandy and keep up with her brisk pace. It’s as we’re making out way around the biosphere that a voice wells up out of the depths of the ship, as if projected from a distance and echoing through the decks.

“I can smell you, little sacrifice. You think you can hide, but I can sense an old soul like yours from miles away, especially since I’ve already had a taste of it.”

Neither Dandy nor I say anything to that, but we start running.

Reaching the other side of the biosphere, we step into the lift, the silence terse as it starts rising to the deck that the bridge is on. A thump from the top of the lift has both of us looking up; a few seconds later, what looks like a small, blue plasma blade cuts through the top of the lift, followed by another and another. As warnings start flashing on the lift’s control screen, I realize from the alignment of each blade that they’re actually claws.

“That’s impossible! How did she get to this side of the ship before we did?” Dandy hisses, hammering the control panel. Instead of going to the bridge deck, it stops at the next deck, the doors opening and letting us out as the claws continue raking a hole in the top of the lift. “We’ll need to take the maintenance stairs to get to the bridge deck.”

“How are we going to keep her from getting onto the bridge?” I say, trying to keep up with Dandy as she marches down the hall, a door spiraling shut behind us and sealing off the corridor.

“The bridge can go into lockdown, with a hermetic seal and its own shielding, and an independent atmospheric recycler.” Dandy answers. “Both entrances to the bridge have secondary blast doors that can be deployed to prevent—”

“You won’t keep him from me.”

Both of us look back. Coming through the closed spiral door is what looks like an ethereal blue specter that resembles Kayenta; as soon as the last of the tails pass through, color and solidity pass over her again, filling her in. Dandy turns and places herself squarely between me and Kayenta. “Go, Jazel. Get to maintenance stairwell.”

At this point I know it’s useless to argue with Dandy, so I start backing up, then turn and run - or at least I try. I’m still a little weak from recovering, and my leg folds beneath me, pitching me to the ground; gritting my teeth, I push back to my feet even as I hear the thumps and thuds of Kayenta and Dandy exchanging blows behind me. Starting down the hall at a hobble, I make it halfway there before the lights flicker and turn red; turning around, I can see Dandy’s on the floor, out cold, and Kayenta is stepping over her.

I start backing up again, but more slowly, because I know that I can’t outrun her at this point, and she probably knows it too. I keep going until I feel the wall behind me and can’t go any further, and then I just…

Wait.

She takes her time stalking down the hall, stopping in front of me and placing a hand against the wall behind my shoulder. Leaning in, she sniffs along my jaw; I remain still, the way I would when meeting a wild animal for the first time. No sudden movements, no loud noises.

“You stopped running, because you knew you could not escape.” she murmurs. Her fingers leave the wall, tracing over my shoulder and down along my chest, her palm pressing there. “And yet your heart races. You’re scared, more than you were before.”

“What do you want?” I reply just as quietly, avoiding looking at her. Just staring over her shoulder at the ceiling. “I took down the barrier around the settlement; they’ve been unprotected for over a week. Weren’t you able to find a soul to sate your hunger?”

“Oh, I could’ve.” she says, lips still brushing against my jaw. “But that would’ve just been a snack, and I wanted a feast.”

I furrow my brow. “A feast? You mean you wanted to consume multiple souls?”

“No. Although I suppose I could’ve done that.” I can almost hear the rolling of her eyes. “I could’ve just eaten the soul of one of those settlers and called it even, since they deprived me of my usual sacrifice. Gone back to hibernating for another three years or so.” Her free arm comes up, sliding around my shoulders and behind my neck as her lips go a little higher, whispering towards my ear. “But I got a taste of a soul that could hold me over for centuries. Perhaps millennia.”

I try to fight down the shiver that wants to run through my body. “I think you made a mistake—”

“You have a single soul, but it’s had many lives.” she interrupts, her palm pressing a little harder against my heart now, and I can feel my heartbeat pushing back against it. “Beneath the veil of your present life, there’s hundreds, perhaps thousands of years of memories lingering, sealed away beneath the surface. I tasted them when I first consumed your soul. I didn’t realize the bounty I’d stumbled onto until it was too late, and you slipped through my fingers.” She turns her head, her lips brushing against mine as she gazes at me with half-lidded eyes. “Be mine again.”

My heart skips a beat. I can’t tell if it’s a request or a command. But I also know what she’s doing; it’s a textbook case, the way she’s leaned against me, arm around my neck, the soft voice, the lazy lover eyes. The typical siren stuff you could see a mile away.

But what scares me is that it’s working.

Working my right hand up, and fighting through the fear and old memories clouding up my mind, I rest my hand over the one she’s got on my chest. “Remember I asked you to come with us? That we’d find out a solution? That offer’s still open. You can still come with us; we can figure out a way to feed you that doesn’t involve killing people. We can help you.”

She smiles. “You are the solution.”

I give my head a little shake. “I can’t let you kill me. My friend needs me. I want to help you, but not if it means you kill me.”

“What’s death but another door? One that all you mortal creatures must pass through one day.” she asks, twisting the arm she has around my shoulders, so she can run her fingers through the hair on the back of my head. “You’ve already had so many lives; you’ve been through that door many times before, you just don’t remember it. So step through that door and into me. Let me be your next life.”

I begin to shake my head a little more vigorously. “You said that I could sate your hunger for decades, possibly centuries — perhaps, if you just took a little at a time—”

“And risk you getting away?” she says, fingers tensing, her nails starting to dig into my chest. “No, I know better than that. You’d just be buying time to figure out how to escape.”

“No, no! I wouldn’t!” I say quickly, pushing back against the mistrust in her voice, and looking her in the eyes instead of trying to avert my gaze. “I meant what I said when I said you could come with us, and we’d help you find another way. It’s— it’s not going to be easy, I admit that. And it’s going to take some time. It may take years. But there’s a better way than what you’ve been doing for the last four hundred years. We just need to find it.”

She draws back a little, so we’re no longer quite nose-to-nose. “I don’t believe you.”

“No really, I promise—”

The hand she’s got on my chest escapes from beneath mine as she places a finger to my lips as if to hush me. “I don’t believe you, not because I think you’re lying, but because you’re naïve. But the fact that you would try, even when I know you’ll fail, amuses me.” She lets that finger slide down my chin, the nail tracing over my neck until it hooks in the collar of my nightshirt. “You promise to find a way to feed me, little feast?”

I take a shaky breath and nod, because it might be the only thing keeping me alive.

Her mouth curls at the corners. “Very well.” Her other arm leaves my shoulders, hooking in the collar of my shirt and pulling it down while she uses the other to extract the spirit bloom woven into her hair. “We’ll make a pact. You find a way to feed me, and until you do, you’ll sustain me. In return, I promise to only take what I need, and not kill you.”

“And you won’t hurt my friends or anyone else that doesn’t deserve it.” I add as she uses one of her nails to puncture one of the flower’s petals. She pauses, narrowing her eyes at me. “I won’t help you if you endanger my friends.”

“Very well.” she says, pulling her nail from the petal as the liquid wells up, blue and viscous, like blood. “That will be our pact.” Digging that dripping nail into the skin below my collarbone, she draws it down at an angle; I grit my teeth as it cuts my skin open, blood mingling with the flower liquid. She then does the same but going in the other direction, forming an X; pulling her hand away, she then claws an X into her skin, just beneath her collarbone on the same side as where she marked me. Both marks glow, and I gasp, pushing back against the wall as I feel my mark burn, little wisps of smoke drifting from each one as they’re cauterized into our skin.

“Break this little pact of ours, and all the protection you have bought for your friends is forfeit.” she says, licking the liquid of the spirit bloom off her finger. “And your soul will be mine. Are we understood, little feast?”

“We’re understood.” I pant, reaching up to cover the X burned under my collarbone. It still hurts and throbs, and I can feel my eyes watering at the pain.

“Good.” she says, taking a step back, light on her toes. Picking a petal off the spirit bloom, she pops it in her mouth like a piece of candy, turning on her heel and heading back down the crimson-lit hall. “Let your friends know we have an agreement. They’re going to be seeing a lot more of me now.”

With that, she skips over Dandy’s prone body, picking petals from the flower and eating them as she heads down the hall, then hangs a corner and disappears from view. Once she’s gone, my legs give out, and I slide down against the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, still covering the mark burned onto my chest.

Lysanne’s not going to be happy about this.