Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #16: Retreat]

Log Date: 3/1/12764

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Officers’ Lounge

10:06am LST

I can hear the click of a flexiglass card being laid down on the table. It feels distant, faraway; even though I know it’s my turn, I just can’t bring myself to pull my eyes off the cards in my hand.

“Axiom, dude. If you don’t want to play, just tell me.” Markos says from across the table. I look up to see that he’s giving me an earnest stare. “It’s been a hell of a trip. If you just want to sit and shoot the breeze, that’s fine too. No judgement here.”

I stare at my cards, then set them down, sighing. Reaching out, I grab my glass and take a sip from it. “Tenji’s gonna have my ass on a skillet when we get back to the HQ.”

Markos snorts, throwing down his hand as well as he reaches for his drink. “What, like it was your fault the assignment failed? I heard the stories from the operatives. There wasn’t shit you could’ve done about that. It wasn’t like anyone told you Songbird was gonna pull some magic laser space dragon bullshit towards the end. If Tenji puts your ass on a skillet, you’re not gonna be alone. It’s gonna be part of a seven-course meal along with Nazka, Gossamer, Whisper, Prophet, Onslaught, and Blockchain’s asses.” He sips from his glass before going on. “Speaking of which. You know what the deal is with Blockchain switching sides?”

I shake my head. “Not a damn clue. I don’t know what goes through his head, and he can’t speak, so I have no idea why he did what he did. Best I’ve got is that he got tired of Onslaught harassing him.”

“Can’t say I’m sad to see him go. Still, I’ll admit, he had his uses, even if he was constantly scratching up my hangar dragging around that bigass cube.” Markos huffs. “But honestly? We got out with mostly everyone alive. I know that’s not sayin’ a lot, but… situations like this, you gotta find the silver lining.”

“I know you’re trying to help, Markos, but setting the bar at ‘we survived’ is setting the bar pretty damn low.” I reply. “This was a categorical ass-kicking at every level. We didn’t capture or kill any of the Challengers, we pissed off the Viralix, we lost an asston of equipment, we didn’t secure the Challenger archive, the Masklings recovered the command key for the Cradle, and we got rolled like a cannoli by Songbird and his girlfriend. It was a complete and utter operational failure.”

“Yeah.” Markos says, swirling his drink awkwardly. “Well. At least Nazka was the one in charge, and not you, right? It’ll be falling on his head, not yours.”

“Yeah.” I mutter, sipping from my drink. “There’s that, I guess.”

“And it wasn’t for lack of trying, right?” Markos adds. “You all did the best you could with the hand you were dealt.”

“I dunno. Maybe there were some points of failure, but I don’t see what we could’ve done differently aside from killing them all on sight.” I say, staring into my fizzwater. “Gossamer put a railgun spike clear through Songbird. Onslaught dropped an entire bridge on him and nearly killed me in the process. And he still got up after that and was able to go toe-to-toe with Nazka and Kwyn. What are you supposed to do against something like that? He’s a goddamn beast.”

“For what it’s worth, I think shooting on sight is probably the way you all should handle it going forward.” Markos says. “You all tried doing things the civil way and you see where it got you. It sucks, but sometimes violence is the answer, dude.”

I shake my head. “I dunno, man. That’ll be for Tenji and Nazka to decide. All I know is that we’re not equipped to handle Songbird. We can probably take the rest of them; they were problematic, but nothing we couldn’t handle. But Songbird is just beyond us. Beyond me, at least.” Draining the last of my fizzwater, I look around. “I should go. I need to go check on Kwyn. I know she’s been itching to get out of the infirmary.”

“Hey, you go ahead. Don’t worry about your glass, I’ll take it back to the kitchen.” Markos says, waving me off. “Give her my regards when you see her. I hear she fought real hard out there. Girl’s got guts, taking a stand against Songbird.”

“Thanks, Markos.” I say, pushing back my chair and standing up. “Take it easy.” With that, I turn and head for the door, tucking my hands in the pockets of my uniform.

I’m not looking forward to arriving back at the HQ.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Infirmary

10:35am LST

“She’s awake, and the same as yesterday, Peacekeeper.” the nurse says the moment the door spirals open for me. “Same bed as usual. You know the rules.”

“Understood.” I say, nodding to her. “I’ll avoid stressing her out.”

“Much appreciated.” she says, motioning me through the lobby to the partitioned beds at the back. I walk around her, making my way towards Kwyn’s bed, where she’s got a holoarray screen up in front of her, and a data slate sitting in her lap.

“Hey there.” she says as I step into her partition. “They said they’re going to discharge me in another twenty-four hours. Finally.”

“Good to hear.” I say as I sit on the edge of her bed. “I imagine it’ll be nice to get out and about again.”

“I should’ve been out and about earlier.” she says, taking the screen and dragging it to her side, so her view of me is unobstructed. “Someone else could use this bed more than me, but they insisted Peacekeepers got medical priority. Even if I’m still in training.”

“You’re an asset we can’t afford to lose. It makes sense.” I say, nodding to the screen she’s got up. “Found something to keep yourself busy?”

“I figured if I was gonna be stuck here, I might as well do something useful with my time.” she says, checking her data slate. “I’m trying to figure out what kind of magic Songbird used and what’s powering it. It has to come from somewhere; there has to be some kind of source that we can target. No one can roll out that kind of power on their own.”

“I mean, you seem capable of it.” I point out. “Managed to slow down a transport vessel weighing thousands of tons, remember?”

“Yeah, but it about damn near killed me.” Kwyn says, running a hand through her hair. “Songbird wrecked the entire convoy, then strolled right past us after that. We need to know where he gets his power from. If we can do that, we can knock him down a peg. Or at the very least, figure out how to get on his level.”

“Well, don’t run yourself into the ground trying to figure it out.” I say, motioning to her data slate. “Do you have any working theories so far?”

“I think the Mask Knight might have something to do with it. Remember how we were pulled into their little… mind bridge thing?” Kwyn says, holding her slate out to me. “They have a connection. They have to; there’d be no other reason for something like that to happen unless they were linked to each other in some way. I’ve been reading up on Masklings, and there’s something called ‘tangling’ that might be what the two of them have. I think they might be powering each other. But it says that only Masklings can tangle with each other, so unless Songbird is actually a Maskling…” She trails off, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I don’t know. We need more intel.”

I glance over the slate, studying the article she was reading, and the notes scrawled on a word processor beside it. “It’s a start. We can ask SCION for help when we get back to the HQ; he’s an angelnet, so he should be able to put together a comprehensive analysis for us. But for now, you shouldn’t stress yourself out about it.” I say, resting the slate back on her lap. “There isn’t gonna be much we can do until we get back to the HQ anyway. We’re going to have to regroup, and reassess our approach… figure out where to go from here.”

“Where do we go from here?” Kwyn asks as she folds her hands back around the slate. “We weren’t able to stop the Challengers, and they still have the Challenger archive. The Masklings are gonna get their Cradle back; the Viralix might align themselves against us…”

I take a deep breath. “We go the only direction we can go: forward. There’s still a chance, I think. We can still stop them, especially if they lose the support of the Dussel Mercforce. We just need to plan for it, and be ready to act when the opportunities arise.”

“And what about Songbird?” she presses. “What are we supposed to do up against something like that?”

“I don’t know.” I admit. “He managed to knock down Nazka. I don’t know if we have anyone that can top that. We’ll figure something out, though. We have to.” I look around at the other partitioned beds, hidden from view. “How’s Onslaught doing?”

“Fine. That broken collarbone’s gonna have her down for weeks.” Kwyn says, setting aside her slate. “She’s fidgety, so the nurses keep her sedated. I pity her; having an operative in partial power armor get thrown at you, then knock you off the top of an APC and land on top of you, has to suck.”

“You’re probably the only one that pities her. She damn near dropped a bridge on my head.” I say. “I wouldn’t mind if it had managed to kill Songbird, but it didn’t even do that much.”

Kwyn’s quiet for a bit, then looks at me. “If he hadn’t slowed it down while it was falling, it would’ve killed you too.”

I look down. “Yeah. It would’ve.”

“Dare?” Kwyn asks hesitantly. “Do you ever wonder if we’re… really the good guys?”

I glance at her. “Yeah. Of course we are. We’re not perfect, but we’re here to protect the rest of the galaxy. It’s… not easy, and we don’t always win. People don’t always appreciate what we do. It’s hard work. Dangerous work. What we just went through only proves all that.” I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. “But it’s work worth doing. Making the galaxy a better place is something worth fighting for.”

She nods, almost to herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is.” After a moment of silence, she goes on. “I just… I suppose I had this idea in my head — one that I think a lot of people have — that if you’re doing the right thing, then you’ll win. I mean obviously, that’s a fallacy of thought, but it’s one that’s constantly pounded into our heads by all the holos we watched when we were growing up, by all the movies put out by the entertainment complex. Good guys win. Bad guys lose. It’s a weird sort of cultural math, I guess.”

“And when you lose…” I begin.

“You start to wonder if you’re really the bad guy, because bad guys are supposed to lose.” Kwyn finishes. “It’s a mental framework that’s gonna take me a while to deconstruct.”

“Honestly I wish it was as simple as that sometimes.” I admit. “It feels like that’s the way the universe should be. The way a fair universe would be.”

“Well, until then, we’re just gonna have to deal with an unfair universe.” Kwyn says, scooping some of her hair out of her eyes. “Do you know how long it is before we reach the HQ? I got assigned a junior Peacekeeper suite before we left, and I barely got the chance to enjoy it.”

I smile at that. “Already enjoying the perks, huh?”

“It’s a big room, I like it!” she says bashfully. “Not that the officer quarters on the Justice are bad, but living quarters on a starship are always… tighter than living quarters for orbital installations or surface dwellings. I also heard there’s other suite types for Peacekeepers…?”

“Yeah, I think the one you got assigned was probably a single-room suite.” I explain. “They’ve got three-room, four-room, and family suites. Three-room has a kitchen, living room, and bedroom, while the four-room has all that and a guest bedroom. Family suite has something like five or six rooms, I think.”

“Dang. Which Peacekeepers have those suites?” she asks.

“Senior Peacekeepers get a three-room suite. I don’t know anyone that’s got a four-room or a family suite.” I say, shifting on the bed. “Though, thinking about it, having a kitchen would be—”

“Ms. Resquill?” someone asks. I glance around to see a nurse peering around the partition. “One of the showers is open now, if you like.”

“Oh shoot, yes.” Kwyn says, sitting up quickly and setting her slate aside. “Sorry Dare, I gotta go. It takes some people forever to get showered because they’re injured, and I’ve been waiting for a shower to open up for a while.”

I chuckle as I stand off her bed, stepping out of the way. “Go get clean, you dirty girl. We can chat later.”

She sticks her tongue out at me as she hops out of bed and leaves the partition. “Next time you see me I’ll be out and about, and ready to start training again, so you better be ready.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Junior. Doctor’s going to have a fit if you overexert yourself and end up back in the infirmary.” I call after her.

“Who says I’m going to be the one ending up in the infirmary after we pick up our sparring matches again?” she calls over her shoulder. I smile at that, watching until she rounds the corner, then pull my phone out of my pocket to check the message I missed while I was talking with her. It looks like it’s from Nazka, and he wants to meet with me. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the screen so I can answer, then turn and head for the infirmary door.

Hopefully I’m not about to get chewed out.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Nazka’s Temp Office

10:55am LST

Once the door to Nazka’s office spirals open, I step inside, standing at attention. “Hullo, sir. I understand you needed to talk to me?”

“Yes.” Nazka says shortly, waving the door closed behind me. He’s currently seated behind a desk, with his arm in a sling, but otherwise dressed in his usual, buttoned-to-the-neck black uniform. Holoscreens are arrayed to the sides of his desk, and on the walls as well. “I’ve been told that Resquill is on the road to recovery.”

“Yes sir.” I answer, tensing up a little. “She’s due to be discharged tomorrow.”

“Good.” Nazka says, collapsing a couple of the screens to the side of his desk. “It’s good to see she bounced back after the encounter with Songbird. The young have tendency to do that, thankfully. With Onslaught out of commission for at least a month, and Blockchain gone, we will need her.”

I find myself fidgeting a little at that. “…as in… you plan in utilizing her as a Peacekeeper asset?”

“With supervision. We need to commence her training in that role as quickly as possible.” Nazka says, leaning back in his chair somewhat. “I’ve spoken with Administrator Tenji, and I brought you here to have a frank discussion with you, Axiom. In light of our recent… setback, it seems prudent to the Administrator that we do what we can to accelerate the training of our more consequential assets. Kwyn Resquill is one of those.”

“Alright then.” I say. “What does this acceleration look like?”

“In simple terms? We are going to have to take her from you and place her with Peacekeepers that have relevant skillsets so they can teach her how to better use and harness her abilities.” Nazka says bluntly. “Kwyn has great potential, but she does not know how to utilize it efficiently. Every time we’ve seen her use it, it’s been all or nothing. She needs to be trained to operate at scalability. And for that, she needs to spend time training with Peacekeepers that are versed in the arcane.”

I grit my teeth. “Peacekeepers like yourself.” I infer.

Nazka purses his lips. “I do not enjoy this any more than you do, Axiom. The order came from Tenji herself; my response, for the record, was that I had better things to do than train an arcane neophyte to use her own powers. The Administrator, however, disagreed, and proceeded to make what was an admittedly convincing argument for why I and other Peacekeepers with relevant skillsets should be investing our time in her. I understand you are attached to her, but it is the Administrator’s belief that you have already taught her most of what you will be able to teach her. If she is to grow and mature, we will need to expand the scope of her training.”

I exhale a sharp breath. So it came straight from Tenji, did it? I suppose there wasn’t really much I could do about that. “Understood. Will you be telling her, or is that going to fall on me?”

“I would’ve preferred that you told her; however, the Administrator, in her infinite wisdom, insisted that it be the administration that let her know.” Nazka states, rolling his desk stylus between his fingers. “She believed that this would allow you to remain ‘the good guy’ in Kwyn’s view. We may be having her mentor with other Peacekeepers, but the Administrator knows that you have built a rather protective friendship with Ms. Resquill, and would like for that to remain intact. Not for Kwyn’s sake, but for yours — apparently this trainee was an important rebound for you after your falling-out with Roya.”

I can feel the heat rising to my face as I realize that the top brass have paid a lot more attention to my social life than I ever realized. “Ah.” I mumble. “That’s uh… well.”

“Rest assured, Axiom, the conversation was just as awkward for me as it presently is for you.” Nazka says brusquely. “However, the social health of our employees is important for an elite organization like ours, and we understand that the relationships that soldiers form with each other can improve performance in the field. So, though it pains me, I would like to make clear that this is not an embargo on time spent with Ms. Resquill. Do not feel obliged to avoid her simply because we have removed her from your mentorship.”

I suck in a breath between my teeth. “Okay.” I say simply.

For a moment we both stare at each other in silence. I don’t know what else to say, and I’m not sure if Nazka intends to dismiss me, or continue the discussion. For his part, he seems to have expected some pushback, and seems surprised that none is forthcoming.

“Well. At any rate, that concludes that topic.” Nazka says, shifting again as if to get his arm more comfortable in the sling. “Thank you also for composing and sending your after-action report in a timely manner. If you could also guide Ms. Resquill in how to fill out one of those at the Peacekeeper level, I would appreciate that as well.”

“Yes. Of course.” I agree quickly. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Yes.” Nazka answers, staring directly at me. “Do you know who ended up with the Spark, Axiom?”

It takes a moment for that to process. “The… you mean back on Chibundi? In the underground temple?”

“Correct. You may not have noticed, but the Administrator took everyone with her that confessed they did not end up with the Spark.” Nazka says, once more rolling his stylus between his fingers as his cold grey eyes drill into me. “She was under the… potentially misguided assumption that an encounter with another Spark, such as the one the resurgent Challengers are suspected to have, would help it manifest. As you and I are both aware, that was unfortunately not the case.”

I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “Sorry. I don’t know.” I lie. “I figured someone else had it.”

“As did I.” Nazka says, tapping the stylus against the desk’s edge. “My guess would’ve been Ms. Resquill, as she appears to be the only person that possesses both the requisite humility and integrity to wield such an apparently consequential power, but she has insisted that the entity within the temple did not choose her. So unless she is lying, it must have been given to another one of the Peacekeepers on this ship.”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about it. Even if I did, I’m not sure who’d confide in me about it.”

Nazka raises an eyebrow. “I would think your trainee would, unless I am misjudging how much she trusts you.”

“I’d figure that too.” I say quickly. “But she hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

“Hmm. Well, hopefully that is a function of having nothing to say about it, rather than eliciting to hide something that should be said.” Nazka says, setting his stylus down. “That is all I wished to discuss with you, Axiom. You are dismissed.”

I nod. “Sir.” With that, I turn and head for the door. It’s only when it’s spiraled shut behind me once more that I let out the breath I’d been holding. My chest feels tight, as if I was about to have an anxiety attack.

I think I’ll go visit the hangar, and walk around in the open space there to calm down.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Officer Quarters Hall

5:51pm LST

Stepping out of my room, I start down the hall as the door closes behind me. It’s dinnertime, and I could use something to chow down on after my workout a few hours earlier. That had helped ease a lot of the strain I’d been under, given me something else to focus on for a bit. The shower afterward had kept me distracted as well, and I’d elicited to go over some old Challenger profiles to pass the time between my shower and dinner.

But now, as I was heading down the hall, I noticed the door to one of the officer quarters was open. Though I feel nosy doing so, I slow down as I near the open door, glancing in passing. There’s not much that really sets it apart from other rooms; it hasn’t got a lot after the way of decoration, which infers to me that it’s occupied by someone that’s only here for this assignment, and isn’t part of the regular crew. Sure enough, as I get closer, Prophet comes into view, kneeling in front of a holo-altar in the corner of the room. If the indistinct murmur is any indication, he’s in the middle of a prayer.

I slow to a complete halt, looking up and down the hall. Since it’s dinnertime, I’m sure there are others going to be passing by soon, so I lean towards the doorway and give a couple of polite raps on the frame. “Hey, uh, Prophet? Did you mean to leave your door open?”

The praying stops, and Prophet lifts his head, looking over his shoulder. “Ah, Axiom. It is good to see you.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” I say awkwardly, tucking my hands in my pockets as he turns around and stands up. “Just figured I’d… check, y’know, just to make sure you were aware. Figure most people want a little bit of privacy for their worship.”

“True. At the same time, one should set the example they wish to see followed.” he says, straightening his sleeves and coming to the doorway. “How is your trainee? Recovering well?”

“Kwyn?” I say, surprised. “Oh yeah, yeah… she’s good. Due to be discharged tomorrow. She’s young, and young adults bounce right back from that kind of trauma, y’know.”

This seems to amuse him. “Spoken as if you yourself were not a young adult.”

I shrug sheepishly. “Well, I mean, I’m five years older than her, it’s a bit of a difference…”

“The gap gets smaller as both of you grow older. It will mean less as time goes on.” Prophet observes.

I get a distinct sense that Prophet’s referring to something entirely different than what I was intending. “Yes. I suppose. Uhm. How about yourself? I heard you had a bit of a scrap with Songbird back there, even put a dent in the hull of the Justice. You doing okay?”

“The body is recovered. The mind… needs some time to process.” Prophet says pensively, arms folded behind his back. “I suspect we will all need time to come to terms with recent events.”

“Yeah.” I agree quietly. After a moment, I look to him. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” he replies, those blue eyes searching me. “That Songbird was so monstrously powerful? That he could take on an entire platoon and a squad of Peacekeepers, and still have strength to fight me afterwards?”

“Yeah. All that.” I confirm. “Did you know what he was capable of?”

“Mm.” Prophet says, his eyes moving away again. “There’s a difference between knowing how powerful a person is, and knowing what they’re capable of. Many people have great power, but the ways in which they are capable of using it depend on their beliefs, their ideals. To answer your question: I knew how powerful Songbird was. But I only thought I knew what he was capable of.”

I stare hard at him. “You knew he was capable of this kind of destruction?”

Prophet raises a finger. “I knew he had the power. I did not know he was capable of using it for this kind of violence.” he says sharply.

“If you have power, you’re capable of destruction.” I point out.

“Just because you have the power does not mean you are capable of using it to destroy.” Prophet says patiently. “You conflate the two, as so many others do. Power is an object. Destruction is an action. They are two different things.”

“And you didn’t think he was capable of destruction, even though he had the power?” I demand.

“I didn’t, no.” Prophet answers, his brow furrowing. “Not in this manner. Not in the way that your soldiers described him, and not the way that I encountered him. This version of him was new. It’s as if he’d lost his mind, finally gave himself over to the darkness that had been gnawing away at him ever since he met Nova. Like he no longer cared to preserve whatever shreds of humanity he may have had left.”

Something about that doesn’t quite jive, and I’m wondering if Prophet is viewing this through the lens of his religion, through some warped mirror that turns every conflict into some kind of battle between light and dark in his mind. Yeah, Songbird had seemed intense when he fought us at the convoy, but I wouldn’t say that he’d lost his mind. He seemed sane to me. Pissed off, but sane.

“So he’s always had this kind of power?” I ask, trying to bring this conversation back around to an area that’s a little less subjective. “He’s just never used it this way before now?”

“Yes, he’s always had the ability to generate power from music.” Prophet nods. “I wouldn’t say quite to this scale, but it was always… intense. And I think, as with certain types of magical talent, his sorcery grows more potent with age and experience. I have seen it in action before, but always to a defensive end. I had never seen him use it as an aggressor.”

“Hold up, he gets his power from… music?” I repeat, not sure if I’d heard that right.

“Yes. He’s a sonic sorcerer.” Prophet replies mildly. “He has Rantecevangian heritage; the magic runs in his blood. He probably gets it from his mother; she’s Valcalian from a Ranter colony, and Valcalians have a strong history of musical magic.”

I gape at him for a moment, then shift on my feet. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me a little bit more about that, would you? Because none of that was in the old Challenger files that I was just reading.”

“Sadly, I wouldn’t.” Prophet apologizes. “You see, I’m not Rantecevangian; I’m of Original descent. I only know what I know from being around Songbird when we were young. But I can tell you that he gets much of his power from music. And I will confess that I had not realized the magnitude of that power until I confronted it last week. It surprised me, what he is now capable of.”

“That at least gives us something to work with.” I murmur, mulling that over. This information would probably make a good addition to the research that Kwyn’s doing. “Well, thank you for sharing that with me. If there’s any other bits of information that you think might be relevant, please let us know. Anything that might help level the playing field against him is valuable.”

“Of course. I want to see him stopped as much as you do, Axiom.” Prophet says. “Perhaps even more.”

It’s just a bit unsettling, the way he says the last part. “Yes, I’m… glad we share that goal.” I say, taking a step back. “Anyhow, I’m going to dinner now. You wanna tag along…?”

“I must decline for now. I need to finish my prayers.” he says, motioning back to the altar. “Perhaps, if you are still in the mess hall once I am done, I will come eat with you.”

“Noted. Well, I’ll let you to it, then.” I say, quietly relieved he hadn’t taken me up on my offer. Backing away from the doorway, I turn and start walking down the hall again, trying not to let my stride carry me too fast.

I think I’m going to eat dinner a little quicker than usual tonight.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Axiom’s Quarters

3/2/12764 1:06am LST

Living in space can be difficult.

There’s a reason that the architects of orbital installations go to lengths to add large community spaces, and try to stuff as many greenspaces and parks into them as they’re allowed to. Nature features, like rivers and waterfalls or rocks and cliffs. There’s a reason that ships set a day-night cycle, even if there’s no day or night while you’re in the warp, or plowing through the labyrinth of tunnelspace. There’s a reason some ships just have a room full of dirt and grass that you can go stand in for a while.

We might be space travelers, but something in us always yearns towards the worlds that we came from.

That’s the itch that’s overtaken me now. It’s a familiar one, a part of me that has gotten tired of living in narrow halls and confined rooms that are starting to feel like tunnels and caverns. That’s another comparison that’s apt for space travel; on most ships, you feel like you’re living in an underground labyrinth, because that’s all that a ship is: a network of tunnels that connect a bunch of rooms. There’s no open space, nowhere you can stand out in a wide open area; you’re always confined, the horizon always limited. Some orbital installations and luxury cruiseliners fix the problem by having wide, domed parks or arboretums, but that isn’t an option for most interstellar and military ships that have hard constraints on how space is utilized.

Which was why I was now pacing my room, trying to walk off some of the restlessness. There was a general sense of dissatisfaction on the ship, coming from both crew and operatives, after our failed assignment. It was stirring up other emotional and mental instabilities, and for me, that was the itch to get off the ship and back planetside, where I could stand beneath an open sky, and breathe the free air, see the horizon and feel the wind over my face.

The buzzing of my phone on my bedside draws my attention; turning in place, I head over to pick it up. There’s a text from Whisper, telling me to open up my door; a moment later, the bell tone for my door rings. Sitting down on my bed, I tell the system to open the door; it spirals open to reveal Whisper standing there in her pajamas.

“I’d ask if I can come in, but I know you’re not going to tell me no.” she says, stepping in and waving the door shut behind her. “How’s Junior doing?”

“She’s okay. Getting discharged tomorrow.” I say, setting my phone back on my bedside. “How about you? It’s awful late to be awake.”

“Says the guy that’s still awake.” she snorts, sitting on the bed beside me. “I’m Calyri; I have an excuse. I get midnight zoomies. What’s your excuse?”

“Restless.” I say, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m craving planetside right now. I want to feel ground underneath my feet. Wind in my hair, sun on my face.”

“Oh.” she says softly. “Gettin’ the Itch?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we should be back in like… a week or so, I think.” Whisper says, leaning against me. “I heard that physical contact helps manage the Itch.”

“Yeah?” I ask, leaning my forearms on my knees.

“Yup.”

“It does feel nice, I guess.”

Whisper snorts at that. “Did you already have your meeting with Nazka?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yup. Went about as well as you’d figure it would.”

“What’d he chew you out for?”

She shifts on the bed beside me. “For being useless, or something like that. Apparently I didn’t do as much as I should’ve. He thinks I should’ve snuck onto the merc ship and stolen the Challenger archive during the chaos.”

I wrinkle my nose at that. “Instead of helping with the wounded and injured after Songbird got done trashing the convoy? I mean… I guess, but it’s not like we even knew where Dussel was hiding the archive. What did Nazka expect, that you’d sniff it out and make off with it?”

“Something like that.”

“Sounds to me like he’s just looking for someone to drop the blame on.” I say. “I guess, based on that, that they never intended on giving Dussel what he was asking for.”

Whisper scoffs. “With the time it would’ve taken? No way. There’s no way the administration would’ve waited that long to get their hands on the archive. Once the Challengers were out of the way, they could’ve refocused their resources on squeezing Dussel until he gave it up to them. Or hell, we could’ve just straight-up hunted them down and taken the archive from them. It’s not like the Vaunted would care; the Dussel mercs were blacklisted by the Colloquium and there was a bounty out for them. Still is.”

“Would’ve been ugly, but it would’ve been a better outcome than we’ve currently got.” I sigh. “Kwyn was asking where we go from here. I told her that the only way to go is forward, but honestly, I was asking myself the same question.”

“They might’ve won, but there’s still only a few of them.” Whisper says. “They can’t keep doing this forever. They don’t have the numbers.”

“We’ve been saying that for a while now.” I say quietly. “Are we just saying that to make ourselves feel better about the fact that we haven’t taken them down yet?”

Whisper puffs at that. “I’m not gonna admit they won. They haven’t, not yet. They won the battle, not the war.”

I want to agree with her, but I can’t help but think about the conversation I had with Songbird while we had him prisoner. About how CURSE was going the way of the Challenger program, about his offer to me to join the Valiant Project. About the bet we made.

I was hoping, very badly, that I would not end up losing that bet.

“He asked me about the Spark, too.” Whisper says. I glance at her. “Nazka did. I guess he’s trying to figure out who ended up with it, so he can blame that person for not pulling their weight.”

“Is that what he’s trying to do?” I ask.

“Hell, it’s what I would do if I had to go back to Tenji and tell her that we got our asses handed to us by Songbird.” Whisper scoffs. “The Spark was supposed to put us on level footing with Songbird. Fat lot of good that did. I don’t even think anyone ended up with it. Most of us aren’t exactly paragons of virtue. I figured if anyone ended up with it, it would be Kwyn, or Ironfist.”

I’m quiet for a moment. “She gave it to me.” I say softly.

“What?” Whisper says, looking at me.

“The Spark. The stone lady gave it to me down in the temple.”

Whisper straightens up, staring at me. “You’re the one that ended up with the Spark?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to use it; I don’t even know what it is; all I know is that she stuffed in my chest, and I— I—” I pause to take deep breath, hunching my shoulders as I brace my hands on my knees. “I don’t know what to do. It’s like being handed something, but nobody tells you how to use it, or even what it is. But you’re expected to use it anyway. I don’t know what to do.”

Whisper’s still staring at me with shock. “And you haven’t told anyone else?”

I shake my head again. “I haven’t. I couldn’t. If I told them, they’d expect me to use it, but I don’t know how to use it. I don’t want everybody looking at me, relying on me, expecting me to do something, when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t want them to have expectations, only for me to let them down. I haven’t told Kwyn… you’re the only person I’ve told. Because…”

“Because I won’t judge you for it.” she finishes softly.

“Yeah.” I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what to do. She didn’t give me instructions, didn’t tell me how to use it, just gave it to me and told me that how I used it and what I used it for was up to me. I thought about trying to look it up or research it when I got back to the HQ, but I’m pretty sure SCION would notice and report it to the Administrator, and then Tenji is going to ask me why I didn’t tell her I had it, and Nazka’s gonna ask why I lied to him, and it’s just…” I exhale another deep breath. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. You figure if someone’s going to give you incomprehensible power, they’d give you years of training to build up to it, or at least, some sort of, like— like— some sort of instruction manual to go with it if they’re just gonna dump it on you and walk away!”

“Sounds like a lot to deal with.” Whisper says, putting a hand on my back and rubbing it in little circles.

“Yeah.” I say, deflating. “It’s just been… I don’t know what to do. And then all this, with Songbird, and the Challengers, and the Masklings, and getting our asses handed to us, and it’s just… it’s been a lot to deal with.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Whisper says gently. “And I won’t tell anyone. Not until you’re ready or you’ve got it figured out, at least. I could even do the Spark research for you, so you can stay under the radar. If Tenji calls me in and asks about it, I can just tell her I was curious and I don’t have the Spark. It’s true, after all.”

I glance at her. “You never do research.”

“I don’t like doing research, but I’ll do it for you.” she shrugs.

I smile a little, leaning ever so slightly to the side to rest my head against hers. “Thanks, Whisper. You’re a good friend.”

“Damn straight I am.” she chuckles, leaning against me in response.

“And you’re not humble about it at all.”

“Why would I be? I know I’m hot shit.”

I snicker a little at that, but I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. I know she’s putting on a front, trying to be funny to help cheer me up. She’s probably just as confused and lost as I am, but she’ll play the fool to make me laugh. And with everything else we’ve been dealing with recently…

It’s nice to know I have a friend that would do that for me.