Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #29: Temptation]

Log Date: 12/27/12764

Data Sources: Ilyana Kemaim

Intercepted Communications

CURSE HQ, local text thread, 2 participants

Ironfist: Has the trauma leave request for Little Wolf been approved yet?

Gossamer: Jovo, dude, chill

G: i just checked the assignment schedule, she’s not q’d up for anything

G: it’s fine

IF: I’m aware she’s not assigned to anything; that doesn’t mean the trauma leave request shouldn’t be approved. She shouldn’t be in the reserve roster if something unexpected comes up over the holiday season.

G: I’ll ask Nazka again when I see him. Administration’s dealing with a lot right now.

IF: We made this request over a week ago, while we were on our way back from Avvikerene. It should’ve been approved already.

G: Admin’s been busy lately.

IF: We were able to get holiday leave approved for Axiom, but we can’t get trauma leave for Little Wolf?

G: look, if I go ask tenji to approve this right now, will you get off my case

IF: Are there any leave requests pending for Whisper?

G: whisper didn’t submit a leave request

G: she’s a titanium bitch, we both know that

IF: Can you submit one for her?

G: no, you’d have to ask scion to do that. i don’t have admin privileges

IF: I’ll ask him to do that, then.

G: What’s up with you? you don’t usually go out of your way to babysit other peacekeepers

IF: We don’t usually send people to Avvikerene. We need to make sure that we’re taking care of them afterwards.

G: Look, all of them came back alive. That’s honestly more than I was expecting. We should consider ourselves lucky we got all of them back.

IF: They shouldn’t have had to go in the first place.

G: preachin’ to the choir, Jovo.

IF: You’ll check on Little Wolf’s leave request?

G: got a meeting with tenji in 15 mins, I’ll ask her then

IF: Thank you.

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Whisper’s Quarters

9:38am SGT

“System, gimme the door camera.” I order as I pull a t-shirt on, roused from my bed by the door chime. Leaving my bedroom, I head out to my living room to see that the holoarray is playing the camera feed from just outside my door. Apparently Kent is the visitor that’s bugging me this early in the morning, and he’s got what looks like a gift basket with him.

“Now what’s all this?” I mutter, heading for the door. “My birthday’s not for another six months…”

Kent looks up as soon as my door unlocks and slides open. “Hey. Hope I didn’t wake you up or anything.”

“I was taking a lazy day anyway.” I say, hitching a hand on my hip as I size up the wrapped basket he’s got. “What’s the big occasion? Did you actually find someone to take to bed more than a week in a row?”

“This? Oh no, this is for you.” he says quickly, holding it out. “Since Krysmis was a couple days ago, and you guys came back around that time, I figure you really haven’t have time to celebrate anything, so I just thought I’d put together something nice for each of you.”

“Really?” I say skeptically, reaching out and taking the basket. “That’s unusually thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, well I, ah.” He slips his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. “I was chatting around some of my friends in intelligence and the other departments, and I heard where you guys ended up going, and, ah… how it went.”

I grimace a little, looking down at the basket. “Yeah. Well, it went, that’s for sure.”

He nods, rocking a little on his heels. “You okay?”

I shrug. “Yeah. Sorta. Maybe. Not really. I suppose I’ve got things under control. It’ll take a little bit, but I’ll be fine eventually. Just need some time to walk it off and get back into my groove.” I weigh the basket in my hands. “You made one for Kwyn and Dare too?”

“Yeah, I did.” he said quickly. “I heard that Dare got a text from his parents on the way back and punched out to go see his family for the start of the new year as soon as he returned, and the administration let him go because of what they’d just put you all through. So I didn’t get a chance to give him his. And Kwyn, uhm. Didn’t get to talk to her. I think she’s holed up in her room; I visited a couple times, but she never answered, so I just left her basket outside her door.”

I purse my lips at that. Out of all of us, Kwyn had struggled the most with the assignment on Avvikerene, and that was true even after we’d been extracted and were on our way back to the HQ. Aside from regular checkups with the infirmary staff, she’d holed up in her room on the ship, and had avoided interacting with people as much as possible. “She’s got a lot on her plate. It’s best to just leave her be for now.”

“Alright. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen or spoken with her since y’all got back.” he says, rubbing one of his thumbs over his oil-stained workshop uniform. “I figure y’all know already, but if any of you are needing to talk, y’know… I’m here. Just hit me up. I’m not a therapist or anything, but I know how to listen, and I can do that for free, so…”

I smile a little at the awkward offer. “That’s nice. You know that we’ve got coverage for the therapists though, right?”

Kent’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, really? Like, completely covered? No copays or out-of-pocket maximums?”

I blink. “Uh… not that I’m aware of. I mean, I’ve never had a therapy session, but the way that the administration pushes it on us, they make it sound like the cost is on the house. Come to think of it, that’s the case for most of my medical appointments. I can’t think of the last time I paid a copay… if I did, I think it was like seven or eight years ago.”

Kent wrinkles his nose a little. “That must be the Peacekeeper coverage talking. I got copays for everything. My dentist has been murdering me lately.”

“Oh, that explains it, yeah.” I say, shifting the basket to my hip. “You’re noncombat personnel, so your health coverage is like. Three tiers down from mine.”

He gives me a flat look. “Thanks, I feel so loved.”

I give a grin and a shrug. “What can I say. I’m an elite asset, and CURSE has to protect their investments.”

“Well, the offer stands. If you gotta get something off your chest but don’t wanna go talk to some stranger with a fancy degree and a cardigan, just shoot me a text. I don’t mind taking some time to listen.” he says.

“Thanks, Kent. I appreciate it.” I say, turning my attention down to the basket and peeling back some of the wrapping. “So what all is going on here? What am I looking forward to?”

“Ah, so each of the baskets are different; I decided to customize them for each of you.” he says, nodding to mine. “The big ticket in yours is a bottle of Venusian vintage single-malt whiskey from a seven-year cask. The rest of it’s minor stuff that’s unhealthy, but tastes great: Aureos, gummipops, some jerky to satisfy that feline need for meat, some of those weird little Krysmis peppermints that melt in your mouth, and something special for you right down there in the corner…”

He points it out, and I reach into the basket to pry out what looks like a little fuzzy mouse on a string, with a cheap bell inside it. “Seriously?” I say, giving him a look. “A cat toy?”

He shrugs and smiles. “I couldn’t be that nice, otherwise you’ll start telling people I’m relationship material.”

“Oh ho, the horror. A committed relationship; truly, a fate worse than death.” I say, spinning the cat toy around on the string and swinging it at him. “It sounds almost like I should be trying to find you someone to settle down with.”

“Oh, no no no. No need for that.” Kent says, waving his hands back and forth. “Honestly, truly. I am perfectly happy being a substandard bachelor. You can offer your matchmaking services to Dare; I’m sure he’d be a much easier client.”

The mention of Dare and matchmaking in the same sentence has my smile faltering, with the revelations of Avvikerene rushing back all at once. Along with all the many complicated emotions that come with it. I don’t have a ready reply, and Kent notices; he seems to realize that he’s hit a sensitive topic, and quickly backpedals. “Well, anyhow… I just wanted to drop by, say hi, make sure you were doin’ okay. Anytime you wanna hit up Gritter’s, or just talk, let me know — I don’t mind taking some time for a friend.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” I say as he takes a step back from my doorway. “I appreciate it, Kent. And the gift basket, too. That was really nice, really thoughtful of you.”

He holds his hands out with faux grandeur. “That’s what I’m here for. Anyhow, I’ll get out of your hair now. It was good catchin’ up with you, Whisper.”

“You too, Kent.” As he turns and head down the corridor, I wave my door shut again, turning and walking the basket over to the table. Setting it down, I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair, trying to push away everything that had come rushing back. The conversations I’d had with Sundew in the mindscape; the glimpses I’d had into Kwyn and Dare’s inner worlds; the new light in which I could see both of them; the guilt I felt for having brought them to the same place that had consumed me for two decades; the feelings I had developed, trying to protect both of them from the worst of it. For the sake of trying to be normal, trying to get back to what I thought was normal, I’d buried most of it, pushed it away, tucked it into the back of my head where I didn’t have to think about it. Trying to get back to the old Whisper, trying to prove that I was okay, and a return to Avvikerene hadn’t changed me.

But it had changed me, and I wasn’t okay, and I was feeling my emotions more violently than I had in a long while. I was feeling my wants and needs far more keenly, and they were eating at me. And with Dare on leave with his family, and Kwyn holing up in her room, it felt like both of them had run away from this, fleeing it instead of facing it, leaving me to deal with this on my own.

And that made me angry.

My hands curl into fists, and for a moment I want to just scream and punch something. I get a wild impulse to grab the basket and hurl it across my apartment in a fit of rage, and I fight it down, mostly out of respect for the fact that Kent had actually put effort into something for once, and it’d be a shame to see that go to waste. Gritting my teeth, I run both of my hands through my hair now, trying to clear my head and failing abjectly. After a moment, I turn towards my bathroom, settled on the idea of a cold shower to get my temper down and clear my head. It’s still morning, and I have an entire day ahead of me.

I might as well make the most of it.

Intercepted Communications

CURSE HQ, intergalactic text thread, 2 participants

Axe: hey, how’s it been?

Furball: it’s been

Furball: hows vacation going

Axe: mm

Axe: it’s going

Furball: are u getting sassy with me

Axe: you gave me a mediocre answer, I figured I’d return the favor

Furball: next time tell me u want me 2 lie 2 u, it’ll be easier for both of us

Furball: its sunday over there, aren’t u supposed 2 b in church or something

Axe: I am

Furball: texting in church? the heresy

Axe: was listening to the talks and thought about you and Kwyn

Furball: oh?

Furball: wouldn’t happen 2 b b/c we’re dirty filthy sinners, is it

Axe: it’s not that kind of church

Axe: I just wanted to check and make sure you two were doing okay

Furball: im doing

Axe: so you’re not doing okay

Furball: none of us r gonna b swimming in sparkles and kittens after the last assignment, dare

Furball: im okay as im gonna get 4 now

Axe: yeah, fair

Axe: how’s Kwyn doing?

Furball: not great

Furball: haven’t seen her since we got back

Furball: i think she’s holed up in her room and avoiding people

Furball: and before u ask, no, i haven’t checked on her

Axe: has anyone else checked on her?

Furball: kent tried, she wasn’t there or wasn’t answering the times he stopped by

Furball: ur about to ask me to check on her

Axe: I wouldn’t normally ask if I could do it myself, but I’m not there right now, so…

Furball: well who’s fault is that

Axe: normally I wouldn’t have gone after what we just went through, but I haven’t seen my parents in a couple years

Furball: u didn’t have to leave right away

Furball: administration would’ve let all of us have leave whenever we asked for it after what they put us through

Axe: sorry. I just didn’t want to pass up the chance while my parents were available.

Axe: can you check on her, though?

Furball: not sure that’s a good idea

Furball: u saw what i saw, u know how awkward she’s gonna be around me

Axe: I’m talking to you, aren’t I?

Furball: …

Furball: uuuuugggggghhhhhhhh

Furball: fine.

Furball: ill check on her when i get the chance

Axe: actually check on her. Talk to her, make sure she’s taking care of herself.

Axe: if you can sneak into my room as often as you do, I know you can sneak into hers

Furball: im gonna strangle u when u get back

Furball: u should b the 1 fussing over her, not me

Axe: how in the world am I supposed to fuss over her after she got to see what’s in my head

Furball: 1. you’re better at fussing over her and 2.

Axe: 2?

Axe: …were you going to finish that

Furball: shtup i hit send on accident

Furball: 2. she saw what was in ur head but u also saw what was in hers

Furball: trust me

Furball: u dont feel as awkward as she does

Axe: pretty sure we all feel awkward at this point

Furball: ill check on her

Furball: but u HAVE 2 talk 2 her when u get back

Furball: shes prolly gonna try 2 avoid u but u 2 r gonna have 2 level with each other, even if i have 2 grab her by the scruff of her jacket and sit her down 4 it

Axe: not sure that’s a good idea

Furball: U dont think its a good idea

Furball: any1 with common sense can c its something u 2 need 2 do

Axe: I mean

Axe: technically we could say the same thing about you and Kwyn, and me and you

Furball: lets cross that bridge when we get to it

Furball: try 2 enjoy ur vacay and relax

Furball: ill make sure kwyn’s okay until u get back

Axe: thanks. take care of yourself too

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Inner Crescent Hallway

12/28/12764 11:33am SGT

Lunch today was something I took early, mostly on account of wanting to get in and out before the lunch rush. Going at eleven was usually early enough to avoid most of the lines, and the food was hot and fresh at that point — the mess hall usually started to ramp up production in the hour before, so it was ready by the time noon hit. It’s as I’m leaving the mess hall, and making my way back to the Peacekeeper suites, that I catch the snatches of a conversation that’s starting to heat up.

“I typically don’t offer unprompted, but considering your circumstances, I feel like this would help you a great deal.”

“I appreciate the thought, but the answer is still no. I know you’re concerned, but I can handle this — I will handle this on my own. I don’t need… baptism or purification or whatever it is you’re offering.”

“It is clear that your mind is troubled. That is something that Ecclesiarchs know how to help with—”

“I said no.”

I’ve located the source of the conversation, and it looks like it’s Prophet and Kwyn. Prophet looks like he’s accosted Kwyn as she was coming out of the one of the access corridors on her way to the mess hall, and while he hasn’t physically stopped her, he is standing in her way. I can tell, by the posture of each one, that there’s tension building — and I change directions, heading directly for them.

“What’s all this?” I demand when I get within range.

Prophet turns to look at me. He’s dressed in his typical clerical attire: white uniform, light golden trim. “Ah. Someone else that is in desperate need of help. You may benefit from this as well.” he says.

“Benefit from what?” I demand as I size up the situation. Kwyn’s got her arms folded defensively, but she isn’t saying anything, keeping her eyes averted from me.

“Amelioration. It is the tradition of meditation within the light of Anaya that helps remove corrupt influences and impulses from the mind.” Prophet explains calmly. “It is a service that is typically not offered outside of Anayan temples, but Anayan Ecclesiarchs, such as myself, have the authority and means to render that service on a smaller scale.”

“Oh really.” I say, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you think that either of us need that service.”

He gives an incredulous outwards motion of his arms. “Both of you have been to Avvikerene. You quite obviously need it.”

I narrow my eyes. “That assignment was classified. How did you find out about it?”

“It’s hardly a secret when you and the other operatives came back reeking of Avvikerene’s perversion.” Prophet says. “Places like that are not subtle with their corruption. It lathers its victims with depraved impulses, and such vandalism of the mind is slow to fade. It is something that Anayans and other clergy can sense a mile off. I am offering to help cleanse your minds of that vandalism.”

“We don’t need to be cleansed of anything, thank you very much.” I say, folding my arms. “We did our quarantine on the ship on the way back. If there was anything hitching a ride with us, it got sterilized while we were in isolation.”

“The body was sterilized, perhaps. The mind and the spirit are another matter altogether.” Prophet says. “The seeds of corruption, of perversion, that are carried in the mind — those are not so easily extinguished by quarantine. If you are not careful, they will grow in time to consume you — this is how Avvikerene and other dark forces spread their sickness across the stars.”

“That’s what we’ve got psychologists and health insurance for.” I counter, firm and unyielding. “If either of us wanted church to fix our problems, we’d be attending the services on Sundays. But we’re not. So whatever weird ritual or dogma you have up your sleeve, you can keep it to yourself. If we want your help, we’ll come ask you for it. Until then, we’re getting along just fine with the resources that CURSE has provided us.”

“It’s not just for your sake that I offer this. A sick spirit often infects others if it’s left to fester for too long.” Prophet intones. “A spiritual darkness clouds your judgement. I believe you should—”

At this point Kwyn’s quietly started walking away, back down the access corridor she was coming out of, and I interrupt Prophet. “And I believe you should stop talking about something you know nothing about.” I say, walking around him and into the access hall, speaking over my shoulder as I go. “Stay away from Kwyn. If I catch you harassing her again, I’m gonna bring the administration down on your head.”

“The administration asked me to be here. They are the ones that reached out to me and SCORN, not the other way around.” Prophet replies without looking at me. His demeanor is cool and unshakably calm, the threats rolling right off him like water on oil. “I only offer help; it does not serve me to see my allies weakened by their ordeals. The administration knows that.”

I stop, then come back down to the corridor’s entrance. “You might have Nazka fooled, and you might have SCION fooled, but you are not fooling me, and I know damn well Tenji is only tolerating you because she thinks you’re necessary.” I warn him in a low growl, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I know what you are. I’ve seen your type before. I am not going to let you take advantage of Kwyn’s struggles so you can sucker her into joining your religion. So this is your first and only warning: stay away from her.”

None of the threats have shifted him; he just stares down at me with those impassive blue eyes, head tilted back slightly, hands laced together before him. “Or what, Whisper? You’ll take matters into your own hands?”

“Or I’ll tell Axiom that you’re harassing his protege. And we’ll see how much of a holy man you are when he comes down on you like the wrath of god himself.” I hiss, then turn and start stalking down the corridor again.

Prophet doesn’t reply, at least not that I can hear, so I take that as a sign that the prospect of incurring Dare’s wrath has at least given him pause. But during the time that I was warning him off, Kwyn’s disappeared, and I have to lope down the corridor to where it turns to the left to see her striding away at a fast clip, probably making her way back to her suite. I jog after her, calling as I go, so she’s not startled by someone catching up to her. “Kwyn!”

She doesn’t turn around, so I reach out and grab her arm. “Hey. Are you okay?” I demand, slowing to a halt and pulling her with me. When she turns around, she’s trying to smile, but it’s pained and forced.

“I’m fine.” she mumbles.

“No, you’re not.” I say immediately. “Stop trying to hide it; you’re a shit liar. I told Prophet that if he tries something like that again, I’m going to bring the administration down on his head, and if that doesn’t work, I’m going to drop Dare on him like a meteor from high orbit. If he bothers you again, you tell me, okay? He doesn’t need to be putting anyone through that, especially us. We’ve been through enough already without having a sanctimonious priest trying to exorcise whatever demons they think we dragged home from Avvikerene.”

“You don’t have to bring the administration and Dare into this.” she says, looking away guiltily. “It’s fine, Prophet’s just trying to help…”

“Just because he’s trying to help doesn’t mean that you need help.” I say. “He’s trying to fix something that isn’t broken. We made it out of Avvikerene alive; we don’t deserve to be treated like lepers just for surviving that ordeal.”

“What if he’s right, though?” Kwyn says quietly. “I haven’t felt the same since we left Avvikerene. I don’t feel like the same person I was before I left. I’ve seen things; I know things that I didn’t know before. Things that I can’t forget.”

I stare at her. I hadn’t expected her to be on the verge of folding like this; I’d known she was struggling, but I didn’t know she’d had it this bad. It wasn’t exactly surprising; leaving Avvikerene usually gave people this kind of whiplash. Even if you only spent a little bit of time on the planet, it would do the best it could to unfold your mind like an origami crane. To reveal all the secrets hidden in the folds that never saw daylight; to bring your deep, dark desires to the surface. Sometimes it exposed things you didn’t even know about yourself. And to go from that fevered haze, back to the sharp clarity of sanity, was a brutal snapback that could make you question everything you thought you knew.

“Kwyn, you’re not corrupted, or depraved, or whatever else he’s claiming you are.” I say. “Everyone’s got secrets. Everyone’s got strange desires they don’t tell other people about. Everyone has a hidden side that never sees the light of day. That doesn’t make you corrupt, or depraved, or impure, or whatever else he thinks we are. It makes you mortal, and every mortal is like that. We are imperfect creatures, and anyone who tells you that they can fix that is trying to sell you something.”

She shakes her head. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t like what I am, what I’ve become since we—”

I grab her arm, pulling her into a nearby maintenance corridor and shoving her against the wall within its shadowed confines. “You are what you are, Kwyn. You haven’t ‘become’ anything since you came back from Avvikerene.” I hiss at her, low and growly. “You are exactly the same person you were when you left this station a month ago and the only thing that has changed in that time is that we saw the parts of you that you were hiding. Those things were there before you went to Avvikerene; those things are still there when you came back from it. If this is about me, and me finding out how you feel about me—”

I can see her start to shut down the moment those words leave my mouth. “Look, just forget it, it’s—” she says, turning to leave.

“No.” I catch the lapel of her jacket, pulling her down a little, and when she looks at me, I push up on my toes a little, pressing my lips to hers.

She freezes like a wild animal caught in the headlights, and after a moment I pull back a little, soaking in the shock in her golden eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with wanting the things you want.” I say quietly. “You’re still Kwyn.”

I can feel the little exhale she gives upon hearing that, and before I have a chance to second-guess myself, I lick my lips and kiss her again. A proper kiss, nothing withheld; learning the contours of her lips, how soft they are; the taste of her breath and feeling her chest hitch with surprise beneath the arm I’m using to pin her to the wall. I lose myself to this moment, and I take her with me, throwing away logic and manners in return for pulling her desire to the surface, and validating it.

It only lasts so many seconds, and when I finally pull away, I can’t resist giving her upper lip a little nip on the way out. I come off my toes, rocking back on my heels as I fight the urge to keep going, to seek more; the expression on Kwyn’s face makes it clear she’s stunned, though it’s the mindblown shock of someone that got what they were looking for and doesn’t know what to do next.

And I know I could go further. I want to go further. I’m hungry, and I want it more, and I want it badly. Like a wild itch just begging to be scratched. And I know, from the look in Kwyn’s eyes as she touches her lips, that if I invited her back to my room, then she would accept on the spot.

This is dangerous. I’m trying to help, but what I’m doing is dangerous.

I take a deep breath, looking away. “Sorry, I…” I swallow hard. “…I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that. I… look, the point I’m trying to make is…” What point was I trying to make? That I knew how to corner a coworker in a dark hall and seduce them? I really have no way to justify what I just did. Truth is, I did it because I’ve been pent up ever since Avvikerene; I saw a chance to get some relief and reassure Kwyn at the same time, and I took it. “There is nothing wrong with you, Kwyn. You are fine as you are. There is nothing about you that Prophet needs to fix.”

“Whisper, are you…” Kwyn begins, quietly.

I already know what she’s going to ask, and I shake my head, looking away. “I don’t know, Kwyn. I don’t… I’m not really sure of anything right now. I’m still figuring things out, and it’s… I think it’s gonna take me a bit.” Reaching out, I take her free hand. “But I do care about you. If you need help with anything, let me know.”

Her hand tightens around mine, and she leans in without warning to kiss me.

I don’t pull away.

No, I snag her jacket again and pull her in closer. One kiss, and then a moment to break for air, and then a second kiss as she pushes me back against the wall and braces a forearm on the wall over my shoulder. A third kiss, and then pause as she rests her forehead against mine, squeezing her eyes shut as we both catch our breath.

“This is… not smart.” she murmurs. Perhaps to me, but mostly to herself, it seems.

I take a breath. “Yeah, it’s…” I mumble.

“I want this, so badly.” she says, opening her eyes a little. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting this. Ever since the Challenges last year, when I was just a fresh recruit, and I saw you up there with all the other Peacekeepers. Slouched in your chair like you were the most confident person up there. It stayed with me; I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

I’ve got no easy response to that; I’m not used to getting confessions like this. It’s flattering, obviously, but when you’re not expecting it, it’s hard to know what to say to it. “For that long?”

Kwyn pushes off the wall behind me. “Yeah.” she says, taking a step back and returning my personal space to me. “Ever since that day.” Another step back, until she’s leaning back against the other wall in the corridor. Four or five feet of distance, maybe. “Y’know I want Dare, too? Took a bit longer, but he grew on me. ‘Course you know that; we’ve all seen inside each other’s heads. But it’s the stuff I saw in myself that bothered me more. Still bothers me. I want it all; I don’t want to have to pick and choose. I want it all.” She looks away into the darkness at the end of the maintenance corridor, her mouth drawn into a tight line. “That’s pretty greedy of me, isn’t it.”

I don’t answer right away. “It’s natural to want it all. Natural to want the things that are out of reach, or the things that we’re not allowed to have.” I say, looking down at one of my hands. “This is a right proper mess, innit.”

“Yeah.” Kwyn agrees quietly. “Probably shouldn’t make things more of a mess than they already are. I’m sorry about doing that; I know how you feel about Dare…”

I let out a quiet little snort at that. “You’re not the only one that wants to have their cake and eat it too, Kwyn. You don’t have anything to apologize for; I’m the one that started it. I should’ve known better, knowing how you felt about me.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been wanting that for a long time.” she murmurs, touching a thumb to her lips. “I just wish there was an easy answer to all of this. What are we gonna tell Dare when he gets back?”

“I don’t know.” I say, shaking my head. “Nothing, for now. I’ll figure out a time to talk to him and figure things out.”

“He’s gonna be pissed.”

“Maybe. But he’ll try to be understanding, I know that much. Let me handle him; I’ve known him ten years.”

“Alright.”

Both of us fall silent with that. With each of us leaning back against the facing walls in this darkened corridor, I get the feeling that neither of us know what we’re doing, or how to handle it. In the wake of our trip to Avvikerene, our group dynamic has been completely upended, and we’re sorting through the pieces, trying to figure out what can be salvaged, and what’s going to emerge from the wreckage. Things are never gonna be the way they were before.

“I should probably go. I was trying to get lunch when Prophet caught up to me.” Kwyn eventually says, pushing off the wall.

“I meant what I said earlier.” I say quickly. “If he bothers you again, let me know. I’ll bring the administration down on his head. And if they don’t do anything about it, I’ll… I’ll take it to Personnel Resources.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Kwyn says. “See you later, Whisper.”

She slinks away with that, but I remain in the corridor, even after the sound of her footsteps have faded. I feel worn out, emotionally overspent, like all the tension of the last several minutes hadn’t gone anywhere productive. Because in truth, it hadn’t. All I’d done was make things more messy and complicated than they had been before.

I am not looking forward to that talk with Dare when he gets back.

The Myrrdicato Dispatch: Satire Section

GALAXY’S MOST NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL FORGETS TO BE SCARY (AGAIN)

Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it. But no one else is saying it, and it’s got to be said, so here we go:

Songbird is the villain we need, but not the villain we deserve.

I do not arrive to this conclusion lightly or easily. I’ve worked as a chief media strategist at several image management firms for several decades; I’ve worked with many public figures, and I’ve watched even more come and go. From pop stars to presidents, clergy to CEOs, black market barons to syndicate bosses, I’ve seen and worked with them all. The good, the bad, the ugly — and even when you’re ugly, we can work with that. A bit of charisma and a few well-delivered lines can make up for whatever crimes your face has committed just by existing.

But Songbird’s latest outing on Kasvei wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t even ugly. It was just plain weird, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

For those that don’t know, Songbird was a surprise guest at the retirement announcement for Jetfire Justice. And it was certainly a surprise, in that even Songbird seemed surprised that he was there. The man genuinely did not seem to know he was going to be making a cameo, and it showed. He spent the entirety of his appearance looking like an owl that had been startled awake — a thousand mile stare and the sort of wide eyes you’d expect from a bewildered animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Hell, those eyes were so wide that if you told me he was a cardboard cutout of an anime character, I would’ve believed you.

Now, I don’t expect much from our public villains. A sullen, disfavorable look will do. If you can muster a menacing aura, even better. If you can bring some class and elegance to the equation, even better still. If you want to masquerade as a demagoguing voice of the people, I’ll allow it. At the end of the day, your job as a villain is to be despicable, and if you can elicit a feeling of disgust, disdain, fear, or indignation in the common viewer, then you’ve succeeded.

But when I look at Songbird, all I see is a befuddled vampire that seems to have gotten lost on the way to the coffeeshop and somehow wandered onto a stage that happened to be broadcasting to an entire world. When I look at Songbird, I don’t feel fear, or anger, or disgust, or disdain; no, I feel confusion. Because he looks confused, which makes me confused, and we are all confused about why CURSE has worked themselves into a lather over this witless wonder.

Are we really to believe this is the man that killed Nova? The one that supposedly brought down the Challenger program and inspired terror across the galaxy? The one that was faulted for the terrorist attack at the Shinobe Kibe Starport, and then decided, for some inexplicable reason, that he was going to return there with a cruiser full of refugees that the Valiant rescued from Mokasha? CURSE has made this man out to be a calculated killer, a plotter and manipulator of exceptional skill and charisma, but I’d be surprised if he managed to make it out of the house in the morning without forgetting to tie his shoes. (For what it’s worth, it seems like Songbird prefers maglatched combat boots, so I cannot attest to his shoelace-tying skills.)

His latest appearance on Kasvei follows a pattern of public appearances where he is, in the vast majority of cases, either befuddled, awkward, or entirely unaware that he was being placed in the public eye. You remember that media release from the Maskling Republic last year, where he spoke with surprising vulnerability and candor about Echo? Rumor has it that the man didn’t even know he was being recorded at the time. One of Songbird’s most moving and honest moments appears to have been entirely unscripted, although that’s not saying much — I’m convinced that the Valiant media office seems to take a perverse pleasure in throwing this man into public engagements with only minimal guidance and prep time.

My point in all this is that I simply cannot take Songbird seriously, and by extension, I cannot take CURSE’s hysterics seriously either. I won’t contest that the footage from the Songbird Incident sixteen years ago makes it clear that he killed Nova. And the footage from his recent combat engagements makes it clear that he is an exceptionally skilled warrior. But a schemer, a manipulator, a persuasive operator? The only thing I’m persuaded of is that someone in the Valiant media office must be holding this man hostage, because that’s what he looks like whenever he gets shoved in front of the cameras.

Myrrdicato deserves a better class of villain than this. We deserve a villain that actually knows what he is doing. Hell, we deserve a villain that’s actually aware of the fact that he’s supposed to be the villain! I need someone that I can actually hate, do you understand? I need someone I can despise, someone I can point to and say ‘yes, this person has caused my woes and ills, whether directly or indirectly, and if given the chance, I would show him the business end of my fist’. And as much as it pains me to say it, Songbird is not that person.

I’ll accept that he’s the villain we need for now, if only because there’s currently no other viable candidates (Laughing Alice is getting there, but I’m going to need to see a bit more consistency from her before I start assigning my current load of galactic grievances to her). But trust me, Myrrdicato, when I say this:

We deserve a much, much better villain than Songbird.

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Ironfist’s Room

12/29/12764 3:41pm SGT

It’s almost a full minute before Ironfist answers his door, and when he does, he looks surprised to see me standing outside of it. “Whisper. This is a surprise; what can I do for you?”

“Just had a few things I wanted to settle up and ask you about, if you don’t mind.” I say, holding up the sheathed sword I’m holding in one hand. “Still need to pay you for this, after all.”

“Ah, I see.” he says, turning from the door and motioning me in. “Come on in, I haven’t got anything going on right now. Would you like some tea?”

I wrinkle my nose as I step in. “Depends. Am I gonna like it?”

He chuckles at that as the door closes behind us. “Probably not. I’ve got flavored water as well, if you would prefer that.”

“Let’s stick with that.” I say, looking around Ironfist’s suite. It’s got the same layout as all the other single-bedroom Peacekeeper suites, but the decorations help distinguish it. There’s a shrine in the corner sitting on a woven blanket of some sort, and incense sticks that haven’t been lit. On the walls, framed paintings have been hung, all of them portraying a musclebound woman that I presume is his goddess — I know I’ve heard her name somewhere before, but I can’t remember it right now.

“So I assume you’re here to discuss the sword, of course, but you said there were other items you wanted to talk about as well?” Ironfist says from the kitchen as he opens the fridge.

“Yeah, it’s actually… something you may know more about than I do.” I say, having paused in the living room and taking in the decor until I’m invited further in. “Yesterday I caught Prophet trying to rope Kwyn into some Anayan… meditation… thing. Said she was corrupted by Avvikerene and needed to be purified, or some nonsense like that. I just wanted to know if you knew another about that? Like, Anayan traditions and rituals.”

“Hmm.” he says, pulling out a tray of flavored waters and bringing them over, so I can pick one. “He said that? That she was corrupted and needed to be purified?”

“I mean, basically. He was a lot more artsy-fartsy about it, but that was the basic idea.” I say, picking out a watermelon-flavored can. “Going on about vandalism of the mind and seeds of corruption and all that jazz. He was pushing it on her pretty hard, and I stepped in once I saw what was happening. Told him to beat it, or I’d bring the administration down on his head.”

“That’s interesting.” he says as he takes the tray back to the fridge and puts it back in. “I thought the assignment on Avvikerene was classified.”

“I said the same thing. He claims he can see whatever ‘corruption’ that we brought back from Avvikerene, and that’s how he knew we’d been there.” I say, cracking open the can and taking a sip. “Wasn’t sure what to think about it, so I figured I’d ask you.”

“Well, if we’d brought anything back from Avvikerene besides the artifact, I’m pretty sure I would’ve sensed it.” Ironfist says as he fills a tea kettle with water. “Perhaps Prophet is seeing something I’m not. As for rituals and traditions for the Anayans, there’s nothing coming to mind as far as purification goes. I’m pretty sure they have something for that; I just don’t know what it is. I’m only familiar with their dogma up to a certain point; as far as their ordinances, rituals, or deep lore goes, I’m in the dark.”

“Mmm. Well, what do you know about the Anayans?” I ask, still studying the paintings on the walls. “Anything that can explain why they’re so xenophobic?”

“Ah. Well, that is a complicated question.” Ironfist says as he puts the kettle on the stove. “As most things at the intersection of religion and politics usually are. To give you a shortened version, the Anayan worldview is built around the central tenet of the Anayan faith: that families are the most important unit of society, and that building, creating, and perfecting a family is the highest and most honorable achievement during a mortal lifetime.”

“Oh, is that what they believe?” I say, roaming into the kitchen while he digs through his cabinets.

He raises an eyebrow at me as he comes up with a tea packet. “You mean to tell me that you didn’t even know what they believed until now?”

“Look, in fairness to me, I never really got past the whole xenophobia part.” I say, motioning my can around.

“Hmm. That’s interesting. Anayans never really struck me as xenophobic, as such?” Ironfist says, opening another cabinet. “I have seen them be intolerant of other cultures, but that is strictly on the basis of lifestyle and value set, rather than being a matter of targeted racial animus. And I support that argument with the fact that the Anayan denomination does have members of multiple species in their faith. Granted, humans still make up the vast majority, but there are many non-human Anayans that follow and adhere to the Anayan faith.”

“Okay, well, like… how do I put this.” I say, squirming a little. “They don’t like people that date and marry across racial lines, right? And they’re not big fans of the homosexual community. That’s the part about them that bothers me.”

“Ah, so you’re talking about racism, not xenophobia. The two are similar, and sometimes overlap, but they are not the same.” Ironfist says, pulling down a set of snack cakes and putting them on the table. “Now that, I can see. There are strains of racism in the Anayan resistance to mixing races. Same thing goes for the… homophobia? I believe that’s the word for it, yes. Both of these things tie back to the Anayan focus on family. As you’re probably aware, some mixed-race marriages are incapable of producing natural children, and the same goes for homosexual couples — which is antithetical to a religion that is founded around the premise of family.”

“They do realize that adoption is a thing, right?” I point out. “Like, you don’t need to have sex and a full-term pregnancy to have a family. Adoption is a thing people can do. So is surrogacy. The definition of family is not limited to two straight people having sex and pumping out kids.”

“Indeed, and this is where you start getting into the shades of grey.” Ironfist says, sitting down at the table and motioning for me to do the same. “This may come as a surprise to you, but Anayans don’t all believe the same things about their religion. And that goes for pretty much every religion. There are different fault lines, depending on the central tenet of each religion, but for the Anayan faith, that central fault line is the definition of family. There are some progressive Anayans that would wholeheartedly agree with you on a more expansive definition of family. And then there are Anayans fundamentalists that believe in a far more narrow, restricted definition of family. And there are some that fall between those two poles.” He takes one of the snack cakes, starting to open it. “Prophet, however, is on the extreme end of Anayan fundamentalism. And for the most part, it seems like most of the Anayan denomination leans towards fundamentalism.”

“So there are some Anayans that are okay with… non-traditional families?” I say, reaching for one of the snack cakes as I sit down.

“There are, yes. I’ve met them. They’re wonderful people.” he says, taking a bite out of his snack cake. “But they’re the exception, rather than the rule. Don’t get me wrong; I understand your dislike of Prophet and Anayan fundamentalism. I come from a Ranter colony, and those are full to the brim with mixed-race families, and adopted families, and found families, so I understand. But not all Anayans are built the same, and sometimes it’s worth finding out what someone believes, instead of making assumptions about what they stand for.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I mutter, biting in my snack cake. “But Prophet, though…”

“Oh no, absolutely. I get a big segregationist vibe from Prophet.” Ironfist says, demolishing the rest of his snack cake in his second bite. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a xenophobe as well. I’ve seen some of the recruiting speeches he gave for the COS military after Mokasha was assimilated. That man just seethes with hatred for the Collective. For Masklings and vampires as well, come to think of it; I heard that he helped ghostwrite a piece of legislation that would’ve banned blood buffets in the Confederacy. He’s got a serious chip on his shoulder, even if he hides it while he’s here at HQ.”

“And I suppose the reason he’s so worked up about us going to Avvikerene is because of his fundamentalist beliefs?” I guess as the kettle starts whistling.

“Well. That would not be unique to Prophet. There are many clergy that would go into conniptions at the mere mention of Avvikerene.” Ironfist says, getting up to take the kettle off the burner. “For better or worse, there are many religions that place an outsized focus on sexuality, and controlling the way that people express it. Avvikerene will always present a challenge to clergy from those religions, because it exists as a statement of defiance against those clergy and religions. But in Prophet’s case — and for Anayans more generally — their dislike of Avvikerene comes from the belief that sexual freedom is corrosive to the core family unit, and therefore antithetical to their religion.”

I rub a thumb against my forehead as Ironfist pours himself a cup of hot water and places his tea packet in it. “Well, my visit to Avvikerene isn’t going to ruin his family, so he doesn’t really have any right to run around trying to pressure us into whatever Anayan purification ritual he wants to put us through. If he keeps bugging us about it, I can ask Personnel Resources to come down on him, right?”

“Certainly.” Ironfist says, sitting back down. “Religion is like tea. There are many different kinds, and you can offer someone tea, but they have every right to decline it. And if they make clear they that they do not want it now or ever, you should not keep offering it to them.”

I snort at that. “Tell that to the missionaries. Anyhow…” I pick up the sheathed sword, and lay it on the table. “I’m here to settle up. How much do I owe you?”

“Ah, yes.” he says, leaning forward and taking the sword, pulling it out of the sheath halfway to study the yellow-orange tint of the blade. “I read your after-action report, and noticed that you got quite a bit of mileage out of this blade. It was used to kill Sundew Weaver at least twice, wasn’t it?”

“Sort of. Killing Sundew is… not easy.” I say, taking another bite of my snack cake. “It helped, let’s put it that way. It wasn’t just useful against Sundew; it kept us safe whenever we stopped to make camp. I owe you big time for getting it to me in time for that assignment.”

“I’m glad to hear it performed above and beyond expectations.” Ironfist says, sipping from his tea. “Have you given it a name yet?”

“Nah. I’m not really the type to name my weapons.”

“Perhaps not, but this is an exceptional weapon.” Ironfist says, motioning to the half-unsheathed blade. “Its history is short, but already remarkable. It accompanied you into the wilds of Avvikerene, kept you safe while there, and was twice used to kill one of the Kotetsidokoro. Many weapons nowadays are showpieces or vanity projects; they are worn for looks, or crafted to demonstrate mastery, or they are mounted on walls and never see use.” Reaching out, he taps on the sword. “But this blade has seen action. It has made a difference. It was used to kill one of the children of Avvi — the host of the Infinite Sin. I think it deserves a name — and I think it would be a shame not to give it one.”

I roll my eyes, stuffing the last of the snack cake into my mouth and washing it down with a swig from my can. “Fine, whatever. I’ll give it a name. Lemme just think of something.”

“Give it careful consideration. Names are powerful things, and a weapon’s name can carry part of your legacy.” Ironfist advises. “If you’re not sure where to start, then consider that the weapon’s name should be a reflection of its history, or it should be a representation of what you think it should stand for. It doesn’t just represent the weapon; it represents the idea or the history that the weapon embodies.”

I’m tempted to make light of it, but I know that Ironfist wouldn’t take kindly to that. I instead spend some time in thought, mulling it over as I stare at the half-sheathed blade and take the measure of the service it’s rendered so far. Nothing’s really coming to mind at first, and I wouldn’t really consider myself a wordsmith; poetry and prose aren’t really my strong suits. So when I find myself stuck and unable to come up with anything, I pull the blade closer to myself and pull it out of the sheath a little more, running a finger along the blade’s polished side. It’s warm and smooth, and I’m suddenly reminded of yesterday in the maintenance corridor. Forbidden kisses, warm and soft, shared in the dark, born out of a shared trial on a sinful rock.

“Temptation.” I say, pushing the blade back towards the middle of the table. “It should be named Temptation.”

Ironfist seems to consider that as he sips on his tea, then nods. “Yes. That is a good name, I feel. It fits the circumstances in which it earned its reputation.” Setting his tea down, he slides the blade back into the sheath. “I’ll have it sent back to the forge so they can have the name engraved upon the fuller. Is there a specific font or language that you want it engraved in?”

I lean back in my chair. “How much is it gonna add to the price?”

“Nothing. I will be paying the cost.”

“That’s unusually generous of you.” I say, sipping from my can. “I won’t complain, though. How much do I owe you for the sword itself?”

“Also nothing. I will not be charging you for this sword.” he says, sipping the last of his tea.

“Hold on just a minute, you told me I could pay you for it once we came back from the assignment on Avvikerene.” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“I did. That was before I knew what it would achieve. Now that I know what it has accomplished, I do not need compensation for it.” he says, folding one leg over the other. “I am paid by knowing I commissioned a weapon that has a foundation of greatness. All I ask in return is that you continue using it, and build its history and legend by doing so.”

I skrunkle my nose at him. “Now hold on, buster, I said I was gonna pay for this thing, and I meant it. How much do I owe you?”

“Whisper, I am an orc. We have a great respect for weapons which have built a history, and earned the right to a name.” he says, resting his hands on his knee. “It would be bad form to accept monetary compensation for such a weapon, and I simply will not do it. The honor of having commissioned this weapon is payment enough.”

“And for Calyri, it’s bad form to accept free handouts!”

“No, it’s not. I have studied wereckanan culture.”

“Well, I’m paying for this whether you like it or not! How much did the sword cost?”

“I can’t rightly seem to remember. Threw the receipt in the recycling some time ago; it’s probably long since made its way to the incinerator.”

“Oh, you… stubborn green bastard!”

“If it helps, perhaps you could consider it a Krysmis gift, from me to you.”

“I hate you.”

Intercepted Transmission

CURSE Conference Call

5:12pm SGT

Nazka: You are certain about this?

SCION: Confidence is high on the assessment. Some of our analysts are expressing doubt, but the preliminary data places the Drift in orbit around Charisto during that timeframe, and the Drift’s activity logs show that one of the skippers went planetside during the window when the assassination is thought to have occurred. Our monitoring of black market forums and chatspaces is showing an explosion of communication and increased chaos in the industries and enterprises that Paguayan was known to control. 

N: Even so, this is only circumstantial. Causality has not been established.

SCION: You do not believe the Drifters are capable of disposing of one of the Four Ravens?

N: I don’t, no. I have met them in person; they are a dysfunctional group, and in all honesty, I am surprised they survived the Primsex. The morphox was the only one out of them that demonstrated any potential, and all the power she has would likely be squandered for her lack of discipline. I am hard-pressed to believe they disposed of one of the four major black market barons.

SCION: Perhaps Paguayan held similar sentiments, and paid for it with his life.

N: Until I see more compelling evidence, I will maintain my stance. I am not willing to credit that group of Preservers with an accomplishment that even CURSE would find difficult to secure.

Tenji: Gentlemen. Apologies for the delay; my meeting with the arcanology department ran long.

N: Any early news on the artifact’s nature or utilities?

T: Our teams are still doing preliminary assessments and structural analysis. It has a consistent energy output that is standard for most Dragine artifacts, so if nothing else, we may be able to build a converter that could absorb some of that radiation and help contribute to the station’s power generation.

SCION: But that is not the primary reason we acquired it.

T: It is not, no. This artifact can offer more than a bit of power generation to supplement our fusion cores. I believe it is capable of some function, or contains some information that we could make use of. What that is… well, as you both know, it will take time figure that out.

N: Dragine artifacts are often multifunctional, are they not? Is there a specific function we are hoping to harness?

T: Anything that can be weaponized against the Valiant. But I would put a premium on anything that would help us withstand or bypass the defenses of a Bastion.

SCION: You are aware that there are research institutions which have been unable to decipher Dragine artifacts even after centuries of study, correct? Even the ones that have been partially deciphered only reached that point because the artifacts seem to have willingly simplified portions of their computing structure to humor the researchers studying them.

T: I am aware.

N: This will not, of course, diminish our efforts in other areas.

T: Of course not. A Dragine artifact is hardly an instant fix for the sort of problems we have. We will continue countering the Valiant on multiple fronts while we wait for our research into the artifact to produce results.

N: Yes, our other fronts… some of which have left much to be desired recently. I understand you are still laying the groundwork of our official response to Tic Toc’s botched assignment in Chaitokoma?

SCION: It never happened, and the Valiant are trying to scapegoat CURSE to distract from the failure to protect their own donors.

T: Have we found out what happened there? This was an uncharacteristic performance failure from Tic Toc. She has not made an error like this since her junior Peacekeeper days, and this was an assignment that couldn’t afford any errors at all.

SCION: The autopsy of the assignment is ongoing. However, the most concerning piece of information to emerge from the incident is that Songbird is capable of timeskipping, at least according to Tic Toc.

T: You’re kidding, right?

N: Apparently that is the reason that the assignment went sideways. The working assumption for the assignment planning was that she would be able to move through the estate uncontested. She says that when she realized that Songbird could timeskip, she panicked and bolted for extraction as quickly as she could.

T: What a paragon of courage.

SCION: We have never seen Songbird exhibit the ability to timeskip, either recently or in his Challenger days. If he is able to do so, it would be a recent development, or something he has hidden so well that no one has found out about it until now.

T: If he was able to timeskip before now, or at all, then he certainly would’ve made more use of it, on many occasions. 

N: Perhaps this is an exhibition of his Spark in action.

T: You think so?

N: We know from Axiom that he cannot fully control his Spark. It activates in times of need, and allows him to do things that he would otherwise not naturally be capable of. If we extend that logic to Songbird and his Spark, then we can reason that Songbird cannot timeskip at will, but only when his Spark allows him to. Which would explain why he has never demonstrated this capability before now — and why he may not consistently demonstrate it in the future.

T: We can only hope. He’s capable of enough as it is; we don’t need him regularly making use of timeskipping. I do find it odd that he suddenly demonstrated the ability to timeskip when he was in close proximity to a timeskipper, though.

N: You think his Spark allowed him to mimic her ability?

T: We don’t have proof, but I wouldn’t rule it out. Something about her presence allowed him to timeskip, whether he was mirroring her ability or accessing a latent skill within the Spark itself. Until we know more, I want to keep Tic Toc away from any assignments that would put her within proximity of Songbird. There’s a lot of unique powers out there, but timeskipping is not one that I want Songbird having access to. Especially if we’re the ones accidentally enabling it by throwing a timeskipper at him.

SCION: I will add a note to Tic Toc’s file and have the system flag any assignments that would bring her in contact with Songbird.

T: Thank you. Now, when I arrived on this call, I thought I heard you two talking about Preservers and a dead black market baron?

N: SCION believes that our wayward contractors have killed one of the Four Ravens in the pursuit of rescuing their kidnapped friend, and caused general chaos and upheaval in the black market as a result.

SCION: There is high confidence that James Paguayan and many of his top staff are dead. There are signs of a scramble to fill the leadership void, with some other Ravens making a move on some of the enterprises that Paguayan once controlled. While we do not have solid confirmation that the crew of the Dandelion Drift was responsible, their presence at Charisto and the timing of their surface visits are… interesting.

T: Quite the little group of troublemakers, aren’t they? First the incursion into the Primsex, and now this… they must be making quite a name for themselves in the underworld. Tell us a little more, SCION; I’d like to know if we can take advantage of this chaos to get some movement on some crime ring cases that have stalled out recently…