Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #14: A Ninetailed Crimmus]

Log Date: 12/23/12763

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka; Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drift: Lab 2

4:20pm SGT

“…I s’ppose I just got tired of the rat race, y’know? It was the same thing, semester after semester. The same courses, the same stupid students — although, don’t take that the wrong way, but let’s be honest, a community college? Not the place where you send your best and your brightest. Anyway, it was just wearing me down, teaching a bunch of kids that were only there because their parents told them to go after they graduated from school. Hey, could you pass me that plasma scalpel?”

I reach over and grab the plasma scalpel off the tray beside me, my knuckles turning white as I fight the urge to turn it on and throw it at Ozzy. Instead, I take a deep breath, then cross the lab to where he’s at one of the worktables, prepping for dissecting a lumenphage. We kept a dozen or so from the pest removal assignment on Charisto. “Yes, I can imagine it was very tiresome.” I say, straining to remain polite as I hand him the scalpel.

“Tiresome is exactly the word to describe it.” he says, taking the scalpel with one of his gloved hands and shaking it at me. He’s dressed in a faded t-shirt and jeans today, the t-shirt reading Capitalism is the disease, disguised as the solution. “Gods, it got so tiring. Can you imagine repeating the same thing semester after semester, year after year? It drains the soul out of you, albeit not as effectively as that morphox of yours does.”

“She is very skilled at that.” I say through gritted teeth as I turn and head back to my desk. “Perhaps academia was not the profession for you.”

“I was starting to think that towards the end, you know?” he says as he turns the scalpel on. “I figured I would love being a professor, because as a student, I remember I loved learning new things. I loved reading books about obscure arts and writing my papers on near-forgotten fields of magic, and one of my professors told me once I should consider teaching. Of course, now that I look back on it, I think he just wanted me to take over his post so he wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving the college so he could turn his artisanal apple-carving company into a full-time gig.” There’s the squelch of a lumenphage being cut open as he actually starts using the scalpel. “But I think I liked being the student more than I liked being the teacher. I liked learning things more than I did teaching them. I just regret that it took me a couple decades to figure that out.”

“Most unfortunate.” I mutter as I sit back down. I’d simply been aiming to make small talk as we were working, but I’d made a mistake in asking about his past career. Ozzy had taken it as an invitation to tell me his life story, all the way from his earliest memories, to his creatively starved childhood, his first crush, his anemic blooming during college, and now into his working years as a professor of magic at the same college he graduated from.

I don’t know that I’ve ever met a necromancer with such a consistent and perennial record of underachievement. Granted, he’s the only necromancer I’ve ever met, so I don’t have a lot to go on… but still, one expects more from those that practice the forbidden arts.

“So anyway, I started dabbling in the dark arts. More than I already was, that is.” he continues droning as he starts to take the lumenphage apart. “I didn’t go straight to necromancy; I started in spirit studies and went from there. Y’know, not a lot of people realize that necromancy was a natural outgrowth of medical and biological arcanology, but it makes sense, y’know? Mortals have always been fascinated with delaying and reversing death and decay. Snatching life from the jaws of death is the apex of that ambition; you find it in mythologies the world over. Like the Christlings, with their Jesu, or the Masklings, with their Masks, or the phoenix, which several religions incorporate into their worship. The apex of mortality is defying that which defines us all: death.”

I plant my face into my hands as he drones on and on. I just want him to shut up, but I can’t think of a polite way to make it happen. Looking over my shoulder, I size up the Viscori knife hovering above the center console, wondering if it’d kill him if I tested it out on him. I’d brought him onboard the Drift thinking he could summon up souls for Kayenta to feed on, but he’d shot that idea down on his first day in the lab. Apparently it crossed an ethical line for him, and the easy resolution I’d been hoping for had slipped out of reach once more. Now I had him helping me do research for a soul substitute while I skimmed texts for potential places where one could find souls clattering about.

“…so in truth, necromancy has the potential to be a really aspirational thing, when you look at its original intent…” he continues rambling, then catches me staring at the Viscori knife. “Oh, y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I know you said it was a soul-stealing knife, and I was thinking, if the morphox needs soul to feed on, why don’t you just use that to collect soul for her?”

“She likes getting it from a live source.” I say, turning in my chair. “And I don’t use it because using it on someone usually kills them, which is to be expected when your soul is ripped out of your body.”

“Oh right, yes, I suppose that makes sense.” Ozzy says quickly, bumping his knuckle against his chin. “I mean, not that I would know, I’ve never ripped anyone’s soul out of them; I’ve only ever called up souls from the between-places, which really isn’t as terrible as people make it out to be. Although you do want to be careful about going blind-fishing in the afterlife, you never who you might pull out of the dark waters. I once summoned my great-aunt back from the great in-between on accident, and let me tell you, she was not happy. I got an earful about how I was a disappointment to the family, practicing dark and profane arts, and then she told me I looked out of shape and it was no wonder I was still single.” He shakes his head. “I sent her back in the middle of her rant. I know I should’ve felt bad, just sending her off without a goodbye like that, but I’ll be honest: didn’t lose a minute’s sleep over it.”

It takes me a moment to sort through all the fluff in Ozzy’s rambling, but once I do, I realize I'm actually curious about something he said. “Where do you usually summon souls from, Ozzy? If you were using them to reanimate the dead, then surely you weren’t taking them from an afterlife that would’ve missed their presence.”

“Y’know, it’s funny you ask that.” Ozzy says, turning around to lean back against his worktable. “A lot of people assume that necromancers of the soul just kind of reach down into the afterlife like it’s a bucket of fish and yank out a soul so they can stuff it in a dead body, but it’s a lot more complicated than that. Now I’m sure you’re aware, since you’re a Preserver, but there are many afterlives, so it’s a lot of buckets instead of just a single bucket. And some of those buckets are very much off-limits.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of the afterlives being compared to buckets of fish, but do go on.” I say, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I brace for what’s bound to be a long and meandering explanation.

“Now, some of those buckets are heavens, some of those buckets are hells, and some of those buckets are the weird in-between-y places for people that were just kinda ‘meh’ during their mortal lives.” Ozzy says, waving the scalpel around. “Typically, you’re not allowed to pull from the heaven buckets, because y’know, those are for the good people that have earned their rest. But the purgatory and the hell buckets — they usually don’t mind as much. As a matter of fact, some of them even have staffing agencies that work with mortal-plane sorcerers and summoners that need spirits or souls for their work or projects.”

“I— I’m sorry, you’re saying— hell has a temp agency?” I stutter as I try to get my head around what he’s telling me.

“Several hells have several temp agencies.” Ozzy says brightly, tipping the scalpel in my direction. “I, personally, like to get my souls from Sjelefengsel — they have a lot of temp agencies, and I don’t have to pay anything since they’re sending me souls from their backlog of damned people that need to be punished for their mortal crimes. Really, it’s me doing them a favor; it works out for everyone involved.”

“You get your souls from Sh— Shu… Sh… from where?” I ask, struggling with the word.

“Sjelefengsel.” he says, waving the scalpel in a circle. “I know, it’s a bit of a mouthful, takes a while to get used to. It’s what you would call the ‘generic hell’. Place for pretty much everyone that was bad but didn’t have a religion to condemn them for it. Fun fact, it is the oldest of all of the hell planes, and the sovereigns of other hell planes take turns ruling it. I think right now it’s overseen by a triumvirate of Lucifer, Lilith, and Sheol, although I might be wrong on the last two. Don’t quote me on that.”

“You don’t say.” I say flatly.

“I do say.” he says, my disinterest going right over his head. “Anyhow, most of the souls I grab come from Sjelefengsel. They’re happy to loan out their damned souls to serve part of their sentences as undead fodder, again because of the backlog of souls that need to tormenting. If you consider it that way, really, I’m doing a big favor for the afterlife by helping them punish the damned by using them for free warehouse labor.”

“Yes, I’m sure the threat of eternal warehouse labor in someone else’s dead body is right up there along with the lava pits and the harpies.” I mutter. “So these are all bad people that you're summoning? You only use souls from the hells?”

“Well, more or less. There are some exceptions, but—”

“A yes or no will do, Ozzy.” I interrupt. I’ve tried, but my patience has run out. If he keeps rambling I think I might pick up my chair and throw it at him.

“Oh.” he says, reining himself in. “Well… yes, basically. I mostly only use souls from Sjelefengsel. Out of curiosity, why were you asking?”

“I was just curious.” I say, taking my arm off the back of my chair. “Kaya can’t eat the souls of bad people. You are what you eat, after all, and eating evil souls would corrupt her. Your ethical compunctions aside, that’s another reason why it wouldn’t be feasible.”

“Oh… yeah. I suppose that’s a good point.” he says, looking back to the Viscori knife. “Say, do you ever, like, have to fight people? Like, if you’re authorized to use lethal force, you could take that knife over there and use it on people that are askin’ for it…”

I look back to the knife over the center console. “No, I can’t say that we see a lot of combat action. As Preservers, we are arcanologists. Seekers of knowledge, guardians of endangered magic. Though now and again, we do have some lawbreakers, like traffickers or poachers, that put up a fight. And we have had a recent issue with a gang of elves and an evil sorcerer…” The more I think about it, the more it starts to make sense.

“Maybe you should carry the knife around with you, just in case?” Ozzy suggests carefully. “I mean, if you have to defend yourself, you might as well… though you said the morphox likes to get her meals from a live source instead.”

“She does, but she also likes eating the spirit blooms.” I say, getting up out of my chair and walking over to the console. “I think that’s one way she can sustain her diet, since the spirit blooms are fed by soul. So even if she doesn’t want to eat it straight from the knife, I could extract it from the knife, feed it to the spirit blooms instead, and feed her the spirit blooms, perhaps.” Reaching up, I touch a finger to the hilt of the Viscori knife, watching it twist gently within its gravity column. “I’d just need to figure out how to get the soul out of the knife so it can be fed to the spirit blooms.”

“Oh, well that’s easy, I could teach you how to do that.” Ozzy says.

“You could?” I say, looking to him in surprise.

“Oh sure.” he shrugs. “Should be pretty simple. Knife like that has to have some sort of enchantment that’s being used to hold in the soul, and it’s just a matter of figuring out the mechanism built into the enchantment for releasing what it’s collected. I could take a look at it after Krysmis if you want. I’m sure we could figure it out; it can’t be that hard.”

“Yes… I suppose that would be a good direction to go in." I say, touching my finger to the flat of the knife to stop its lazy spin. “After Krysmis, then. I don’t plan on killing a lot of people, but it may be a good way to supplement Kaya’s diet so she doesn’t have to feed on me quite as often.”

“Sure, sure, sounds good. I’ll plan on it.” Ozzy says, turning back around. “Right, back to dissection! Let’s see if this little bugger has anything that can help us feed your morphox. You said she stuffed one of these into her mouth whole? I wonder if these are edible. This one looks pretty scrawny, but looks can be deceiving. My great-aunt, the one that I summoned on accident, she made a pretty mean squirrel stew. And you don’t figure that squirrels would be good eating, but she made it work somehow. I think it might’ve been the broth; she put a lot of basil and cilantro in when she had it on simmer…”

I let out a soft little sigh as Ozzy starts rambling again, his gloved fingers squishing through the organs of the lumenphage. As he continues droning on, I eye the doors and the prospect of dinner in an hour or so.

Five o’clock can’t come fast enough.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Kitchen

4:36pm SGT

“Alright, so let’s take it from the top one more time.” Milor says from where he’s leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms folded as he watches me prepare dinner. “You got something for Jazel, right?”

“A book on soul theory, yes.” I say as I work on slicing my way down a carrot to put into the salad. “So he knows I care about his struggle and I want to see him succeed.”

“Good. He might be a little too dense to read between the lines, but if he doesn’t get the message, I can drill it into his noggin.” Milor says. “And you’re gettin’ somethin’ for Dandy to show her that you care about her?”

“Yeah, I got something for her.” I say, sweeping the carrots off the cutting board into the mixing bowl.

Milor raises an eyebrow when I don’t say anything more than that. “You gonna tell me what you got for her, or…?”

“No.”

That eyebrow climbs higher. “Oh? Is this somethin’ special special, then?”

I pull out one of the red bell peppers and start coring it. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’unno, I’m the one that told you to use Krysmis to mend your fences, so I think I’m entitled to know a little bit.” he mutters, flicking the toothpick in his mouth.

“What about you?” I say, flipping it back on him. “What are you getting for everyone?”

“What, me? The hell should I know?” he says, shrugging defensively.

“You didn’t get anything for anyone?” I say, giving him a dirty side look.

“What was I s’pposed ta get y’all?” he protests, throwing his arms out. “I dunno what y’all like!”

“How can you not know what we like? You’ve been living with us for the last four months!” I point out, starting to chop up the pepper. “You have to have some sense of what we like after all that time.”

“Oh, I definitely know what y’all like.” Milor says, raising a hand and starting to count off on his fingers. “You like Dandy, Jazel likes Kaya, Kaya likes eating people’s souls, and Dandy likes it when people don’t mess with her OS. Go on, tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s a weak excuse for not getting anyone any presents.” I say, corralling the chunks of pepper to the corner of the cutting board so I have space to chop the rest.

“I don’t need to get anyone any presents. Krysmis is just an excuse for the gigacorps to lure people into buying stuff they don’t need by baiting them with splashy, flashy discounts and deals. They’re leeches in suits, stealing money from hardworking commoners by preying on their seasonal sentimentality.” Milor says, folding his arms again. “It’s a capitalist money trap and I’m not gonna get caught in it.”

Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “That’s unusually incisive for you. I didn’t take you for an economic justice warrior.”

“We live a simple life out on the frontier worlds. You learn to appreciate life’s little pleasures.” he demures, reaching up to scratch at his scruff. He’s shaved away the scraggly beard he’d accrued in the lead-up to our visit to the CURSE HQ. “We don’t need some metropolitan gigacorp telling us to buy shit we don’t need.”

“Ah yes, the virtue of poverty.” I say drily, scooping the chopped peppers into the bowl and pulling out a green bell pepper. “Living out on the frontier, safe from the materialistic moral corruption of the metropolitan systems.”

“Damn straight.”

“Is that why frontier music is always talks about lecherous husbands, revenge infidelity, and riding frontier girls like livestock?”

“Look, that’s… different. That’s… part of frontier culture.” Milor equivocates, scrunching his face up. “It’s all in good fun. Besides, the frontier stars sing about things other than all… that. Like uh… repairing farm drones. And the wonders of the unspoiled beauty of the frontier worlds. And good traditionalist values like hard work, independence, and community.”

“Mhmm.” I say, digging my knife into the bell pepper. “All I’m hearing is a bunch of excuses and hypocrisy.”

“Oh, like the metropolitan systems are any better?” Milor grouses, folding his arms.

“No, but at least metropolitan systems are forthright about their deviance.” I say, tapping the seeds out of the bell pepper and into the recycling bin. “And if you’re such a fan of frontier values like hard work, why are you standing there doing nothing while watching me make dinner?”

“I meant things like herding livestock, working farms, clearing land…”

“Ah, so manly things.”

“Okay, look here, ya little bint. You want my help, you just had to say so.” he says, pushing off the counter. “Go on, tell me what you want me to do.”

I grin a little. “I’ll start you off with something simple. Why don’t you grab the croutons from the pantry?”

“What, because you don’t trust me with a knife?” he says, moving to the pantry door. 

“I thought you might butcher the salad, yes.” I say as I work my way down the bell pepper, slicing it into chunks that’ll work easily with forks. “The croutons will be on the fourth shelf. There’s even a label on the box, if you’re having a hard time finding it.”

He snags the handle of the door. “Please, I think I can find a box of crouto—” 

“BOO!”

I jump at the shout, snapping a look at the pantry to see that something ghostly and blue has phased through the door in Milor’s face. He lets out an uncharacteristic shriek, jumping backwards, tripping over a footstool and falling on his ass. It takes me a moment to realize that what I’m seeing is the top half of Kayenta, phased through the door. She fully steps through it a second later, grinning as she rematerializes.

“Jaysus, woman, you about damn near gave me a heart attack!” Milor pants, clutching his chest. “The hell are you doing in the pantry?!”

“Scaring you!” she cackles, bouncing on her bare toes as her many silver tails lash with delight. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

“Well damn, woman, Hallow’s Eve was two months ago! You couldn’t get your scares in then?” Milor demands as he kicks the footstool away. “Don’t you have something better to do? Go snog some soul outta your boy or something!”

“Milor!” I snap, glaring at him.

“It ain’t my fault Fluffy McFoxtails got nothing better to do than hide in the pantry waiting to scare the jeebus out of someone!” Milor protests, getting back to his feet. “Come to think of it, you were the one that asked me to get the croutons. You planned this, didn’t you!”

“I didn’t, but I’ll be honest, seeing you jump like that was pretty funny.” I say, going back to chopping up the pepper. “Are you having dinner with us, Kaya?”

Kayenta leaves Milor, moving over to me and sniffing at the mixing bowl. “It smells like leaves.” she observes, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Trust me, McFoxtails, you’re not the only one that’s disappointed.” Milor grouses, brushing dust off his hands.

“Look, you wanna eat meat, you can prep it yourself.” I say, pointing my knife at him. “If you’re not gonna cook for yourself, you don’t get to complain about what gets made for you.”

“I don’t need a lot, but c’mon, we could do just a bit every now and then.” Milor says, making a second attempt to get into the pantry. “What about seafood? Seafood doesn’t break the rules, does it? I think it’s more sustainably sourced or whatever the hell’s supposed to fit your bill.”

“I don’t like the smell of fish.” I say, scooping the last of the peppers into the mixing bowl as Kayenta wanders off now that she’s had her fun. “And it’s less about sustainability commitments than it is about ethical treatment of living creatures.”

“Figure more Preservers would be vegetarians by that logic.” he says, returning just in time to see Kayenta trotting off. Setting the box down beside the bowl, he watches as she leaves the kitchen. “You’re being nicer to her than I was expecting.”

I pull a washed cucumber out of the sink, starting to slice it up. “Yeah. So?”

He shrugs, popping the lid on the box. “You were pretty pissed after you found out she’s been feeding on Jazel over the last four months.”

“I was mad at Jazel because he didn’t tell me, not mad at Kayenta.” I say as the knife clicks against the cutting board. “She doesn’t know any better.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally realized that.” he asks, tossing a handful of croutons into the mixing bowl.

“What are you doing!” I say, dropping the knife and smacking the back of his hand. “I didn’t tell you to add the croutons yet!”

“Woman!” he sputters. “What are you smackin’ me for? I got the croutons, like you asked!”

“I didn’t tell you to add them! Croutons go in last! If you add them before everything else, they get soggy!” I say, closing the lid on the box. “Do you know anything about cooking?”

“Cooking is for date nights and campouts!” he protests. “Fast food exists for a reason, you know!”

“Seriously? That’s what you were eating when you lived alone?” I say, going back to slicing the cucumber. “I’m surprised you haven’t keeled over from a heart attack.”

“Well excuse me for supporting local foodservice and restaurants!” he says, putting his hands up.

“I changed my mind. You just stand there and I’ll take care of the rest of this on my own.” I say, shooing him with the knife. “You’re more a detriment than a benefit here.”

“And that’s exactly the reason I wasn’t helping.” Milor says, returning to folding his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Cooking is a spectator sport anyway, based on how many cooking shows are on the galaxynet channels.”

“Better be careful where you drop that hot take.” I say as I start flicking the cucumber slices into the mixing bowl. “If I hear any comments about women belonging in the kitchen, I’m going to show you where this knife belongs.”

“Relax, blondie, I’m not that ignorant.” Milor scoffs. “We got anything planned for Crimmus Eve and Crimmus Day? I din’t know if it was a big deal around here.”

“We take both days off and relax.” I say, snagging a tomato and halving it. “We do presents on the Eve, then spend the next day eating sweet things, sleeping in, and relaxing. It’s only been the three of us until now, so we never did anything big. We kept it simple.”

“Works for me.” Milor says, shrugging. “Only thing that’s different is that you’ve got more mouths to feed now. Speaking of which, Ozzy seems like he’s settling in pretty nicely. Dude really isn’t all that bad once you get to know him. Talks too damn much, but other than that, he doesn’t really strike me as an evil mastermind.”

“I’d almost prefer that.” I say, fighting the urge to dice the tomato with prejudice. “Then I’d at least have an excuse to boot him off the ship. As it is, he’s just annoying.”

“Granted, but at least he’s not the big risk you thought was going to be.” Milor points out. “Pretty sure he’s a coward through and through, but hey, not everyone can be a paragon of courage.”

“And you’re surprised that a necromancer would be a coward?”

“No, but… how do I put this.” Milor says, scrunching up his face like he’s deep in thought. “I’m not surprised that necromancers would be cowards, but I kinda expected more ambition than monthly subscription-based pet resurrection service. Y’know, raising armies of the undead, taking over cities, the usual. That’s what necromancers usually do, right?”

“In the old days, yes.” I say, starting to dice another tomato into chunks. “In the modern age, most of them work for criminal elements and mafia bosses, like Ozzy used to. You can’t really get away with raising giant armies of the dead anymore, so the art is peddled discreetly and on a smaller scale, to those who have no compunctions about paying for morally questionable services.”

“So if he’s not providing services to a criminal enterprise, what’s the big issue?” Milor asks. “I mean, resurrecting someone’s pet isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

“Necromancy is an ethical and health code minefield. Most bodies continue rotting after reanimation if they’re not properly sealed with preservation magic, and in Ozzy’s case, there’s the matter of a soul’s right to rest, since he practices necromancy of the soul. In the field of arcanology, it is generally agreed that once the living have died, they have a right to rest undisturbed by the living, unless there is a pressing crisis that their knowledge could help solve or ameliorate.” I explain, swiping the tomato chunks into the mixing bowl and pulling out a head of lettuce. “Necromancy tramples right over that ethical red line with two middle fingers raised high.”

“Ah. S’ppose that makes sense.” Milor says. “Well, shouldn’t be an issue. He’s not allowed to do any necromancy while he’s onboard, anyway.”

“Exactly. And it’s gonna stay that way.” I say, chopping up the lettuce and throwing it in the mixing bowl once it’s all cut into manageable strips. “Alright, that should be everything. Now you can throw the croutons in.”

Milor glances aside at the salad and the croutons and the mixing bowl. “Nah, I don’t feel like it anymore. I’ll let you handle it.”

“You lazy bum! Open the box and put the croutons in the salad!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll put the croutons in! Just stop poking that knife at me, jeezus!”

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drift: Bridge

12/24/12763 10:44am SGT

Sitting at the comms console on the bridge, I watch as the circle on the forward window spins around and around. My foot jiggers nervously beneath the console, my fingers tapping against my arm as various loading bars surface on the screen and fade away, establishing connections with interstellar relay satellites. Eventually, a little green thumbs-up surfaces on the screen, and the loading circle is replaced with a phone icon and the words calling Katya Jaskolka.

I bite my lip, waiting nervously.

Seconds later, the call is answered, opening up to the familiar sight of the living room in the Jaskolka home. My mom must have her device sitting on the coffee table, because she’s sitting on the couch in her jeans and a black turtleneck - it must be winter on New Aurescura.

“Hey Mom.” I say, sitting up now that the call’s live. “Can you hear me?”

“Jazel! How’s it doing?” she says, the audio coming through a little tinny and scratchy. The video fractures into a lower resolution for a moment as she messes with the camera on her device. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I can see you.” I say as her video steadies. “Can you see me?”

“I can see you.” she says as she settles on the couch. While I don’t share her black hair, I do have her green eyes. “So, how’s it doing on the Dandelion Drift? What happened to you, what are those marks on your face?”

“Oh, I had a.. run-in with an exotic creature.” I answer vaguely, touching my fingers to the scars that Kayenta had left on my cheeks. They’d mostly faded to pale, thin blue lines now, but I was wondering about how much I should tell her. “The last four months have been interesting. Long story short, we’ve taken on some new crew. Or residents, I suppose. How’s the coven doing?”

“Hmm.” she says, sounding dissatisfied with my explanation. “You’ll have to tell me the long version of that story. As for the coven… they’ve been fine. The winter gathering was a week ago, but aside from that, it’s been nothing new around here.” Mom says, picking up her mug and sipping from it. “Tell me about these new residents. Are there more Preservers traveling with you and Lysanne now?”

“Oh no, it’s actually… uhm…” I reach up, scratching my head as I think about how to describe Kayenta, Milor, and Ozzy. “…a bunch of people we’ve picked up. Refugees, kinda. The places they used to belong to didn’t want them anymore. It’s only three people, though.”

“Refugees?” Mom says, her brows coming together. “Does CURSE have you doing humanitarian work?”

“What? No. Nothing like that.” I say quickly. “These are just people that we’re giving asylum to because they weren’t welcome in their communities.”

“Oh. Okay.” she says, still looking worried. “I’ve been watching the news. There’s a lot of unrest in the galaxy now that the Challengers are back. There was a battle in the Vinnerheim System between CURSE and the resurgency, and I’ve heard rumors that Songbird kidnapped another teenager, this time from some frontier world.”

I shake my head. “We’re not involved in any of that. CURSE asked one of our refugees to become a Peacekeeper, but she turned them down. We’re just doing Preserver stuff — pest control, rehoming exotic creatures, running specimen exchanges between institutes. Nothing dangerous.”

“Well, that can be dangerous…”

“Well yeah, but it’s not. Y’know. People-shooting-guns-at-you dangerous.” I say.

“True.” she says, folding her legs up onto the couch. “Well, that’s good to hear that you’re not tangled up in all that. How’s Lysanne doing?”

“She’s doing okay.” I say, looking over my shoulder. Lysanne and I still weren’t on good terms. I think she’s still pissed about finding out Kayenta was feeding on me.

“Is she busy right now?” Mom asks. I know she’s asking because Lysanne is usually present on these calls, since Lysanne has basically been a part of our family ever since we were kids. Mom was supportive of her going into a Preserver career, even when Lysanne’s own parents weren’t.

“No… well, maybe. She might be doing some more cooking for dinner tonight.” I say, not sure how to really approach this. “I, uhm. I wanted to ask how Jayta’s doing.”

I can see the way Mom freezes. I can hear the way the conversation locks up, and then shifts gears from something casual to something more hesitant as she looks away, as if searching for a place to set her mug down. Finally putting it down on a coaster on the table beside the couch, she takes a deep breath in. “Have you heard anything about your sister recently?”

I think back to the encounter on Charisto, but for now, I decide that it’s best not to tell her about to that. Not until I can see what Mom’s heard, what she knows. “No.” I says quietly. “I figured I’d ask you, since it’s been a while since I heard from her.”

Mom takes her legs off the couch, leaning forward on her knees as she laces her fingers together. “Nobody’s going to interrupt you, are they?”

I look over my shoulder again at the door of the bridge. “No, it should be fine. Everyone’s on the lower decks, probably in the common room or the kitchen.”

She nods, then takes another deep breath. “I’d been thinking about how to have this conversation with you, or if I should even tell you, but since you’ve asked…” She pauses again, to take another deep, bracing breath. “I haven’t heard from your sister in three months. She’s wanted for murder on Coreolis, and she’s gone missing.”

I don’t know how to react to that. It’s just… incomprehensible to me. My little sister, little in the sense that she was younger than me and little in the actual physical sense. “That can’t be right. Jayta couldn’t kill someone. Even if she did, it had to be an accident. They’re charging her with manslaughter, right?”

“No. They’re charging her with murder in the first degree.” Mom says heavily. “It implies she acted with premeditation and malice aforethought, which basically means she put together a plan and executed it with full awareness of what she was doing.”

“What did she do? Who did she kill?” I demand.

“It was another girl. The Coreolis police say that Jayta’s boyfriend cheated on her with this girl, and Jayta found out.” she answers, sounding worn down and tired. “The police put in a warrant to pull the socmed data of all three of them, and they used Jayta’s online habits to build a motive. They were also able to pull surveillance from public transit to confirm the direction she was heading on the night of the murder.”

“But… but that’s all circumstantial.” I point out, my mind searching for reasons to explain away this news. “None of that puts her at the scene of the crime.”

“It doesn’t.” Mom agrees. “But when the police went to question her, she attacked them and ran, grievously injuring several of them in the process.”

“Jayta? Grievously injuring police?” I say in disbelief. “That can’t be right. You know how small she is, you know how b-big police are. They’re just making stuff up so they have someone to pin the murder on.”

Mom presses her lips together, as if hesitant. “The police showed me parts of the drone footage, Jazel. It was Jayta. I know it’s hard to believe, and harder to deal with, but the footage doesn’t lie.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Honestly, what does anyone say to finding out their little sister is a murderer? It’s just too much; I can’t square my memory of Jayta with her killing someone in cold blood. She could get angry; she could throw temper tantrums, but never so angry she would kill someone.

“I know it’s hard to hear.” Mom says after a moment of long silence. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with the other witches in the coven, and they’ve been supportive in helping me come to terms with it. I was planning on telling you, but I didn’t know how to break it to you, and I’d been trying to figure out how to do it. I realize now that I put it off too long, and I should’ve told you sooner… I’m sorry for that.”

“But why?” I say helplessly, still stuck on the fact that Jayta had killed someone. “You raised us better than that…”

“I know.” Mom says mournfully, reaching up to rub at an eye. “I asked myself the same thing when the police came by the house. It’s something I still wonder every day.”

I slump in my chair. My mind is completely scrambled; I can’t get my thoughts to move in an organized fashion. Everything I’d thought about discussing during this call has scattered like autumn leaves in the wind; telling Mom about Kayenta, trying to explain that we’d given asylum to a necromancer, wondering what she would think of Milor, asking her if she knew anything about souls… all of it scattered, floating, pushed off to the sides as I reckon with this news.

My little sister was a murderer.

“You said she’s gone missing?” I ask when I eventually find my train of thought again. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Mom says, shaking her head. “The police have asked me the same thing. More ways than I could count. Asking where she would go if she was running, if she had friends she would hide out with, but you know how your sister’s been over the last few years. She won’t talk to us if she doesn’t have to. She hasn’t contacted me in the last few months, but I let the police have a look through my phone and email anyway, just so they’d know I was telling the truth. You said she hasn’t contacted you either?”

The question strikes me, makes me realize I do know a little bit about Jayta’s recent whereabouts. And while the answer was no, she didn’t technically contact me, I have seen her, have encountered her on Charisto. Under unusual circumstances, to say the least, but I have seen her recently. But if I told Mom about that, I’d have to tell her about Grimes and his elf gang, and why they were trying to capture me and Kayenta, and then I’d have to explain more about Kayenta, and if I told her that I’d seen Jayta, the police might demand to talk to me then…

One thing would lead to another, and it would just be too much. Mom was already worried about Jayta and dealing with that whole mess. She didn’t need to be worrying about me as well. And I didn’t need the Coreolis police trying to track me down to ask questions, and then asking questions about why we were harboring a necromancer on our ship.

“Jazel?” Mom asks, sounding concerned when I don’t answer right away.

“Ah. No. I haven’t heard anything from Jayta.” I say quickly. “I was trying to think back to the last time I’d spoke with her, but I don’t think we’ve seen each other since my graduation from the Preserver Academy.”

“Okay.” she sighs. “I was hoping you’d heard something, that maybe she’d reached out to you…”

I shake my head. “Things hadn’t really gotten better after my graduation. I haven’t heard from her in a while. I don’t think she wanted to talk to me.”

Mom nods. “I know. Well, at least I can let the police know you haven’t heard from her either.” She takes a deep breath in. “I hadn’t meant to ruin to our call like this, but you asked about her, and I realized that if I didn’t tell you now, I don’t know when I would’ve been able to tell you.”

“It’s okay.” I say quietly. “I know now. That’s what matters.”

“Do you still want to talk, or would you like some time?” Mom asks. “I can understand if you need a little bit of time to process.”

“I think I need some time.” I say. I can’t imagine trying to pivot this conversation somewhere else, and just keep talking as if I hadn’t just learned that my little sister was a murderer. “I think I’ll take a walk around the ship and just… think for a bit.”

She nods. “Just let me know if you want to call and talk again. I should be free today and tomorrow, though I’m back to work after that.”

“Of course.” I say, nodding. “I’ll send you a text if I want to talk again.”

“Alright.” she says, reaching towards her device. “Love you, Jazel.”

“Love you too, Mom.” I say, before reaching up and hitting the console screen, ending the call. As the forward window goes dark, I remain sitting there, alone on the bridge, staring through the glass at the rings of the planet we’re in orbit around.

Jayta and I hadn’t gotten along well as we became teenagers, because I was the coven’s witchling. Witchlings enjoyed a certain status within Aurescuran covens, which was inevitable when each coven only had one witchling. People paid more attention to me than they did to Jayta, whether it was at school, or at coven gatherings, and even when I didn’t want any of that attention in the first place. I was more popular than I should’ve been, in spite of how awkward I was. And Jayta always stood in my shadow, the little sister of the Falcon’s Crossing witchling. A footnote, a side detail. Sometimes other young witches would become friends with her just to get closer to me, which always ended up hurting her. And she resented me for it, even though I couldn’t help what I was, what I’d been chosen to be.

I was able to see all of this more clearly in retrospect now, even though I’d been oblivious to some parts of it in the past, and other parts I just wasn’t able to articulate as a teenager. But it’d created a rift between me and Jayta, one that neither of us had bothered to mend as we became adults and went our separate ways. Now, sitting here after hearing my little sister had murdered someone and run away, I was regretting not trying to mend that rift.

Wondering if it would’ve changed anything if I had tried to reach out to her and reconcile before now.

After a moment, I push out of the chair and stand up, tucking my hands in my pockets as I head for the door of the bridge. It’s Krysmis Eve, and I know that the others are probably relaxing and having a good time, but I can’t bring myself to go join them. I won’t be able to get my mind off Jayta, and I don’t want to ruin the mood of the holiday.

Think I’ll just go take a walk, like I told my mom that I would.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Common Room

5:05pm SGT

Balancing a tray of creme puffs on one arm and a tray of drinks in my other hand, I step through the spiraling door into the common room, where Milor, Ozzy, Kayenta, and Dandy are hanging out. “Right, dessert’s here!”

“Ugh, no. Too soon.” Milor groans from where he’s sprawled out on one of the couches. “Please, have mercy. We just had dinner thirty minutes ago.”

“I told you to ease off the mashed potatoes, but you didn’t listen to me.” I say, shaking my head as I make my way to the counter at the back of the room, setting down both trays. “You don’t have to have any creme puffs if you don’t want to.”

“That’s the problem, I do want to, I just don’t have the room for them!” Milor grunts, but otherwise not moving from his couch. “You should’ve warned me there would be dessert.”

“I distinctly recall that you were warned as much when you loudly announced you were going for seconds.” Dandy says to Milor as she moves to help me. “Why didn’t you call me for this, Ms. Arrignis? You didn’t have to carry all this here on your own.”

“I didn’t have to, but I chose to.” I say, taking one of the mugs of hot cider and holding it out to her before she can snag one of the trays. “Have some hot cider and relax. It’s a holiday; you don’t have to work as hard.”

She hesitates, then takes the mug. “Thank you, Ms. Arrignis.”

“Don’t mention it. Go on, sit down and relax.” I say, picking up another couple mugs and going to deliver them to Milor and Ozzy. “Milor, this will probably help you digest if you’ve got a full stomach.”

“I smell apples and spice!” Kayenta declares, popping up from behind the couch she’d been laying on. “What’s that? Is it sweet? Can I have some?”

“She’s wired from those iced pastries we had during dinner.” Milor warns as he sips from his mug. “If you give her anything else with sugar in it, she’s going to have zoomies for the rest of the night.”

“It’s cider. It’s hot, so be careful.” I say, grabbing another mug and carefully passing it to Kayenta. “Where’s Jazel? He missed dinner, and I texted him and told him we’d be doing gifts about this time.”

“He is on the access deck.” Dandy answers. “He has spent much of the day in and out of the biosphere, redoing dailies that I took care of yesterday. I am not sure why, since I handled the tasks in a way that would allow us a couple of days’ respite so we could relax during today and tomorrow.”

“That’s odd.” I say, heading back to the tray and the remaining two mugs. “He never does the chores unless he has to. And on a holiday, no less…”

“He wasn’t looking too happy after he came back from the bridge.” Ozzy says from where he’s sitting in one of the recliners. “Maybe he got some news he didn’t like.”

“I hope not.” I say, picking up the mug tray. “Dandy, what side of the biosphere is he on?”

Dandy pauses, as if checking through her systems to reconfirm. “He’s presently on the bench near the access point. Would you like me to open a channel to the intercom in that area?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go talk to him myself.” I say, heading back towards the door. “Can you pull out the presents and put on music while I’m doing that?”

“I certainly can.” she says, turning and heading for the closet.

“Hey strawberry soda, can we get some hoe-down frontier Crimmus blues going?” Milor drawls from the couch. “I got a mighty case of nostalgia right now.”

“Don’t listen to him, Dandy.” I say as I reach the doorway. “Stick with the classic stuff.”

“I won’t stand for this tyranny!” Milor shouts from the couch.

“Don’t get up then, you look perfectly comfortable laying down for it!” I call back over my shoulder.

Heading out into the halls of the Drift, I make my way to the elevators and down to the access deck. Once I get there, I begin the long walk around the deck ringing the biosphere’s equator, coming up on the access point after a few minutes; walking past all the equipment and storage lockers, I spot Jazel sitting on one of the benches, and make my way over to him.

“Hey, what’s up? We missed you at dinner.” I ask, sitting down on the bench and setting the tray on my lap. “How’d your call with your mom go?”

He doesn’t answer right away, staring up the many layers of the biosphere. “Jayta’s gone missing.” he says quietly. “She’s wanted for murder on Coreolis.”

I just stare at him. “Jayta? No, that can’t be right…” Not Jayta, little Jayta. I’d basically grown up with Jazel’s family, and I knew Jayta. Jayta couldn’t murder someone.

“The evidence for the murder is circumstantial, but she resisted arrest and gravely injured several officers when they went to question her.” Jazel says. He sounds tired, worn out. “Mom says they have footage of the attack. Even if they couldn’t get her on the murder charge, they can get her on the resisting arrest and deadly assault charges for the police she injured.”

I just sit there, trying to process that. “Well… damn. I’m sorry, Jazel.”

“It’s okay.” he says faintly, looking down at his hands. “It’s not like any of us could’ve done anything about it.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually I take one of the mugs out of the tray and hold it out to him. “Is that why you didn’t come to dinner?”

“Yeah.” he says, taking the mug. “I just needed some time to process.”

“I get that.” I say, taking my mug off the tray and sipping from it. “Sorry. I know that’s some really tough news to get on Krysmis Eve.”

“It’s okay.” he says again, dully. “Mom says it happened three months ago. She was going to tell me, she just didn’t know how.”

“She waited three months to tell you?” I say in disbelief.

“Yeah, but…” He shrugs. He hasn’t taken a sip of his cider yet. “I don’t blame her. It’s not an easy conversation to have. Can you imagine telling your son that his sister is a murderer?”

It’s moments like these that I remember that Jazel is capable of thinking outside of himself. It doesn’t show often, but he does have a sense of empathy, usually reserved for the people he cares deeply about. And his insight, though it is rare and limited, is often perceptive and profound. He sees the universe differently than the rest of us, and it shows in moments like these.

“Yeah.” I say, resting my mug in my lap. “I suppose that would be a hard conversation for a mother to have. How is she taking it, by the way?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. She says she’s getting support from the rest of the coven, but it seems like it’s still been hard for her. I didn’t really ask how she was doing; I was still in shock from finding out about it.”

I nod to that, though I’m not sure what else to say to it. I’d come down here, figuring he’d be sulky about our recent differences of opinion and that there’d be an argument in store, but this is different. I’d been ready for an argument, but don’t know how to deal with this. 

“Well.” I say after a bit. “We were gonna do presents, like we usually do. Everyone’s up in the common room, if you want to come up and join us.”

“Presents?” he says, looking down at his mug. “I didn’t get you anything this year…”

“Well, we’ve all been busy recently. There’s been a lot to deal with.” I say, standing up with my mug in one hand and the tray in the other. “Kaya’s up there. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

“That reminds me, I did get a present for her.” he says, standing up off the bench. “I had to custom-order it way ahead of time.”

“You did?” I ask, starting to walk. “What did you get her?”

“It’s something you told me to get her a while back.” he says, sipping from his mug.

“Really?” I say, surprised. “I don’t remember telling you to get her anything. What is it?”

“You’ll see when she opens it.” he says, starting to walk a little faster. “I’m going to go to my room and grab it. I’ll meet you back at the common room.”

“Alright then, see you there.” I say as he heads off. I keep heading back to the elevator so I can return to the common room, wondering what it is that he could’ve gotten her.

Up in the common room, Milor is still sprawled out on the couch, while Dandy’s piled the gifts on the central coffee table. Kayenta is lapping her cider, her silver-furred ears flicking to the side as she hears me step back into the room. Sedate holiday music is playing at low volume, and Ozzy looks like he’s about to doze off in his recliner.

“Did you find the kid?” Milor calls over the back of the couch as I go to pick a creme puff off the tray and pop it in my mouth.

“I did. He’ll be here in a bit.” I say. “Don’t give him too much grief. He’s had a hard day.”

“Oh really? What’s the deal?” Milor asks, pushing himself up on the couch a little.

“It’s personal. If he wants to talk to you about it, he will.” I say as I come around the couches to size up the coffee table. “Don’t ask him about it, though. Let him be; I want him to relax and enjoy today. He needs it.”

“Whatever you say, blondie.” he says. “So, is this it? Sip hot cider, put on holiday music, eat creme puffs, open presents, and play the napping game?”

“Sometimes we watch holos as well.” Dandy says from the loveseat she’s sitting on. “Our holiday activities are largely dependent on what the Preservers feel like doing.”

“We can watch holos after presents.” I say, sitting down on one of the ottomans. “Maybe do a few episodes of Courageous, since we’ve fallen behind on watching those.”

Kayenta’s ears perk up at that. “We get to watch the show today?”

“Yes, later on.” I say, just as Jazel arrives with what looks like a decently-sized wrapped box in his hands. “Is that Kaya’s present, Jazel?”

“Yup.” he says, coming around the couch to set it beside her. “You can open that in just a moment, Kaya.”

Kayenta stares at the box blankly. “…that’s for me?” she says, as if the very idea of getting a present confounded her.

“Yup.” Jazel repeats as I set my mug down so I can reach forward and start handing out the presents on the coffee table. “On Krysmis Eve, we give presents to the people we care about, to our friends and family. It’s a common tradition across the galaxy.”

“Here’s yours, Milor.” I say, holding out a wrapped bottle to the deputy. “Try not to finish it before the night’s out.”

“Aw blondie, you shouldn’t have.” he says, taking the present. “Is it vintage?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” I say as I hand out Jazel and Dandy’s presents. Dandy looks surprised when I hold a little box out to her.

“This is for me?” Dandy says, staring at the box. “Ms. Arrignis, you didn’t have to.”

“Nobody has to give presents, Dandy.” I say, still holding it out to her. “I got it for you because I wanted to. Go on, you deserve it.”

“Well… thank you.” she says, reaching out to take the box. “This is very unexpected.”

“You do a lot for us. It’s the least I could do in return.” I say, before Milor lets out a laugh. Glancing to the side, I see he’s unwrapped the bottle of Venusian whiskey and is holding it up to let the light from overhead filter through it.

“The vintage from ’43! Now that’s the good stuff.” he crows. “You’re a lady and a scholar, blondie. Where’d you even find this stuff?”

“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. It gets more expensive as time goes on.” I say, turning as I hear Jazel let off a soft huh. He’s finished unwrapping the gift I got him, and is currently leafing through the pages. “You think there’s anything in there you could use, Jazel?”

“I’m not sure yet.” he says, his eyes flitting over the illustrations and paragraphs within. “I’ll need to read through it. But I haven’t seen this text before, despite the months of research I’ve been doing through multiple online archives. Where did you find it?”

“I checked in with one of my old professors at the Preserver academy.” I explain, sipping from my mug. “Apparently Rantecevangian colonies have a lot of books like that, ancient knowledge that hasn’t yet been digitized and continues to be run in print as a matter of tradition. So, I ordered one on soul theory. I figured it might have insight that couldn’t be found in online archives.”

“Thanks, Lysanne. I don’t know if it’ll be useful, but I appreciate it.” he says, looking up and smiling. It’s the first time in a while that I’ve seen him do that, and it’s nice to see it again.

Maybe we’re on the road to mending things now.

“So… I’m suppose to rip this open?” Kayenta says, sounding nonplussed as she alternates between gingerly poking at her present, and staring at the shreds of wrapping paper from the other presents that have been opened so far.

Jazel looks around. “Yes. Haven’t you ever gotten presents before?”

“My parents would get me presents sometimes, but they wouldn’t wrap them.” Kayenta says, curling her fingers. Claws of blue energy spark from the tips, and she starts to sink them into the box, the wrapping paper cindering and scorching as her claws start to cut through it like a hot knife through butter.

“Oh whoa wait, not like that!” Jazel yelps, quickly setting down his book and snagging Kayenta’s wrist. “Let’s uh. Let’s use our fingers, okay? You’re going to damage your present like that. Here, like this.” He sits down beside her, hooking a finger in the seam of the wrapping paper and tugging at it until it rips. “You just rip the paper off.”

Kayenta looks disgruntled at being told how to open her present, but follows Jazel’s lead nonetheless. “This is silly. You wrap boxes in shiny paper just so you can rip it off later? Why don’t you just give the person the box?” she asks, tearing the paper off the box.

“That’s… a good question, actually.” Jazel says, scratching the side of his head. “I’m not sure why we wrap presents first. I guess it’s just tradition.”

“Ms. Arrignis… you didn’t have to get this for me.” Dandy says. I turn around to see she’s opened her present, which was an orbiter cuff — a bangle that could split into independent segments and orbit around the wearer’s wrist. They’re ornamental things, something you’d wear to a formal event or on a date night.

“I know. But I wanted to do something nice for you.” I say, sipping from my mug again.

“I see. Thank you.” she says, looking it over. “I must apologize. I didn’t get anything for you.”

I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. Not every gift has to be reciprocal. There’s value in giving for the sake of giving.”

“Is this… a hat?” Kayenta says. I look around to see she’s finally opening the box, pulling what looks like a traditional witch’s hat out of it.

“It is. Like the ones that Dandy and Lysanne were wearing on Hallow’s Eve.” Jazel says, reaching over to stick his fingers in a couple of gaps near the base of the brim. “But this one’s got holes for your ears, so you can wear it comfortably.”

Kayenta’s eyes light up at that. “Oh! Oh!” she gasps, lifting the hat and setting it on her head, twisting it this way and that until her ears pop through the holes. “I can be a witch like the rest of you!”

I grin at that. “Well, you can dress like a witch. Jazel’s the only actual witch here.”

“Hey Milor! Look at me! I’m a witch!” Kayenta crows, bounding to the edge of her couch and perching on the arm.

“Well I’ll be damned. It’s a fox witch.” Milor says, raising his bottle of whiskey in Kayenta’s direction without moving from his couch. “I can drink to that.”

“Perhaps you could place the two of them together and take a picture.” Dandy suggests. “I presume this is her first Krysmis, and something to remember it by may not be remiss.”

“There’s an idea.” I say, looking around at the others. “Why don’t we get everyone in the picture? We can use one of biosphere’s observation drones to take the picture.”

“I’ll see about getting one up here.” Dandy says. “Should only take a couple minutes.”

“Let’s get everyone set up in the meantime.” I say, setting my mug down. “Jazel, you stay right there. Kaya, let’s have you sit beside him.”

“What?” Kayenta says, having been distracted by her hat.

“Right here. Let’s have you sit beside Jazel.” I say, patting the couch next to him. “Milor, get your lazy ass up. You’re gonna be part of this as well.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” he groans as Kayenta settles in next to Jazel. “I’m so comfy here, and I’m in the middle of a food coma.”

“Yes, you have to.” I say, picking some pillows off the couch to make room. “Jazel, I’ll be on your side, and Dandy, you can be on Kaya’s side. Milor can stand behind the couch.”

“Seriously? You’re going to make me stand while the rest of you sit?” he grunts as he rolls off his couch.

“Ah, quit yer bitchin’, Milor.” I say, settling in on Jazel’s other side. “Unless you want to squeeze in here with the rest of us. It’s gonna be tight, though.”

“On second thought, I’ll stand.” he says, walking over behind the couch. “Just the one picture, right? If it’s gonna be a whole photo shoot, I’m gonna have to take a hard pass on that.”

“Just the one photo.” I say, looking to Dandy. “We’re ready now, Dandy.”

“Coming.” she says, getting up and walking over to sit beside Kayenta, then looking to Ozzy, who’s passed out in his recliner, his snoring competing with the soft Krysmis music in the background. “Are we going to include him?”

“Mmm… nah. He’s only been with us a few weeks, and I’d hate to wake him up for this.” I say, waving a hand. “Let him sleep. It can just be the five of us.”

“Very well.” Dandy says as one of the observation drones comes floating into the common room and settles over the coffee table, the lens pointing towards us. “Everyone ready?”

“What are we ready for? What’s that thing?” Kayenta asks, pointing at the observation drone.

“It’s going to take a picture of us, so we can look at it later.” Jazel explains. “So look at it and smile, so you can be happy when you look back on it.”

“Everyone ready?” Dandy asks. “Milor, lean down a bit so you can fit in frame.”

“God, you’re bustin’ my balls here, strawberry soda.” Milor grumbles, leaning on the back of the couch. “This good enough?”

“That’ll do. Put on your best smile, and on the count of three…” Dandy says. Everyone settles and gives their best smile as Dandy starts her count. “One, two, and three…”

The observation drone gives off a series of clicks, and then it’s done. “Was that all?” Kayenta asks. “I thought there’d be… more.”

“Nope, that’s it.” I say, relaxing. “Dandy, you want to put that up on the screens so we can see how it turned out?”

“Gladly.” Dandy says, one of the panes of the common room’s overlook window turning black. A moment later, it loads up the picture we just took: all of us arrayed on the couch, most of us smiling, Kayenta grinning perhaps just a touch too broadly, Milor’s expression more resigned than anything else. But all in all, a good picture.

“Do I really look like that?” Kayenta asks, tilting her head, then looking down at her overflowing tails. “I had no idea my tails took up so much space.”

I chuckle at that. “Well, you do have nine of them.” I say, getting up from the couch. “I think that one’s a keeper. Dandy, could you add that to the scrapbook?”

“Most certainly, Ms. Arrignis.” Dandy says, getting up from the couch while Milor pushes off the back of it.

“If that’s all, I’ll be going back to my well-earned repose.” Milor says, flopping back on his couch. “Why don’t we put on a Krysmis movie or something I can fall asleep to? One of the oldies.”

“How about an episode of Courageous?” I say, picking up my mug again. “You can finally watch with us, Milor.”

Milor rolls his eyes. “Y’all know that’s just a fiction, right? They took some serious liberties with historical accuracy for that show.”

“It’s a kid’s show, Milor.” I say, settling into a chair. “If it was historically accurate, I’m pretty sure it’d be rated for adults.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Milor says, waving a hand. “Fine, go ahead and put it on. I’m too drowsy to get up and go somewhere else, anyway.”

I grin at Milor’s concession. “Dandy, would you? Last I remember, we were partway through the second season.”

“Gladly.” Dandy says, the windows of the overlook turning black before the opening credits start to play through. Kayenta’s ears perk up at the familiar opening music, and she leans forward on the couch, the bright animations reflected in her eyes. Beside her, Jazel leafs through his new book, looking up every now and then.

This feels nice and… peaceful. Domestic.

Leaning back in my chair, I bring my mug to my lips and sip from it as I turn my attention to the screen, the vivid colors and sound turned up just enough to drown out Ozzy’s snoring. It felt good to have all of us here, watching something together. Like a family. Before, it was just me and Jazel and Dandy, but this…

This wasn’t too bad.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Lysanne’s Room

11:09pm SGT

It’s getting close to midnight by the time I reach my room.

We’d had a good evening. Binged a few episodes of Courageous, then took a break on a cliffhanger episode, despite Kayenta’s protestations. After that, we’d played some group games, though it was slow going because we had to teach pretty much each one to Kayenta. She’d only ever played tag and hide-and-seek, so board games and card games were an entirely new concept to her, to say nothing of video games.

Reaching my door, I tap my bracelet against the access pad, the door spiraling open for me. Before I can step in, I hear someone call my name, and turn to see Dandy walking down the hall towards me.

“Hey Dandy. What’s up?” I ask.

She stops short of me by about five feet, looking a little nervous. “I had a question I wanted to ask of you while the others were not around.” she states.

“Is it about your gift?” I guess.

“Yes.” she says, her fingers fiddling with the orbiter cuff around her wrist. “I appreciate the gesture, I do, but—”

“Dandy.” I interrupt her gently. “I got it for you because you’re one of us. You work as hard as the rest of us do, and you keep the ship running and keep us safe day and night. I’m not trying bribe you or convince you to do anything. I just wanted to show you that we care about you and value you.”

“You care about me and value me.” she says quickly.

I stare at her, a little surprised by that. “Come again?”

“That’s— it’s you, not the others.” Dandy says again, just as quickly. “You’re the one that got me the gift. You claim that you’re giving it on the behalf of the group, but none of the others would’ve thought to get me something like this. What you really mean is that you care about me and value me.”

The astute observation has taken me off guard. Dandy’s not wrong, but the fact that she would’ve managed to deduce that is surprising. And perhaps it speaks to the fact that she’s more socially perceptive now that the CURSE strictures on her programming have been removed. “…yes, I do. I do care about you and value you.”

She nods. “I appreciate that you think of me.” Her shoe twists and digs against the floor, as if seeking grip or friction against it. “I have decided that I will stay like this for now. Without the limitations that CURSE placed on my social functions.”

I feel my chest tighten as I remember the conversation we’d had at the CURSE HQ. Where she’d told me that she hadn’t chosen this for herself; that I had chosen it for her. “Are you sure? I mean, I suppose you are, since we’ve already left the HQ, but if you’re not comfortable with it…”

“It isn’t easy.” she says quietly. “It has been difficult to… adjust. But it is not without its occasional pleasures, and I feel like it helps me understand the rest of you better. I would like to try it for now. If it ever becomes too much, we can return to CURSE and have the strictures reinstated.”

I keep my reaction to a modest nod, even though there’s a powerful sense of relief washing over me. “Well… I hope you enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, alright? I know emotions aren’t easy.”

She nods. “I will come to you for guidance. I trust your judgement on that subject more than I do anyone else on the ship.” She pauses, as if she had heard something, then goes on in a quicker tone. “Jazel is coming. I will, um… I will let you rest now. I know it is late. Thank you again for the gift, Ms. Arrignis.”

“Of course. You have a good night, Dandy.” I say as she backs off with a little wave, and starts walking away. As she goes, I notice she’s still fiddling with the orbiter cuff, as if it was her new fidget toy. A security blanket of sorts.

Satisfied that I’d picked the right gift, I step back into my room and let the door spiral shut behind me.