Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #7: Jailbreak]

Log Date: 9/27/12763

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka; Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Hangar

5:33am SGT

“Rise and shine, kiddos, it’s another bright and sunshiny frontier morning!” Milor crows as the hangar doors spiral open, and he starts down the stairs, checking the tilt on his widebrimmed hat. “Mmm, smell that coffee! Did you guys get a cuppa yet?”

“Milor, if you don’t bring it down a notch, nobody’s going to find your corpse tomorrow morning.” I grumble as I push a hovercrate across the hangar and up into the skipper’s ramp. “Make yourself useful and help me load the last of these feedstock crates.”

“Aww, what’s the problem, blondie? Not used to getting up at the asscrack of dawn?” Milor says, making sure his pistol holster is secured beneath his jacket. “You ain’t no frontier girl with an attitude like that! Frontier girls are perky and bright-eyed by the time the clock chimes six!”

“Given the stereotypes about frontier girls, I’ll gladly sleep in for a couple hours to avoid being classified as one.” I grouse at him as I clomp down the skipper’s ramp, calling to Dandy. “How are our accounts looking, Dandy?”

“CURSE has been notified we’ll be restocking today. We have access to the credit account.” Dandy says from where she’s standing on the stairs, lowering the data slate she’s been tapping at. “I doubt I need to reiterate it, but necessities only. No personal purchases on the organization’s credit account.”

“Nothing new there.” I say, crossing the hangar to meet Dandy midway, and taking the cup of coffee she’s holding out for me. Taking a few sips of it, I spot Jazel standing on the boarding ramp leading up to the skipper’s cabin, body-blocking Kayenta. “Jazel! Stop playing goalie with the morphox, we need to get going!”

“I’m— it’s— I’m working on it, okay!” he calls back to me, sounding hassled. Curious, I start in their direction, sipping from my mug as I go.

“Why can’t I go?” Kayenta demands, bouncing on her bare toes to peer over Jazel’s shoulder and into the skipper.

“B-because you can’t!” Jazel says, keeping his arms outstretched to prevent her from getting past him.

“Yes, but why?” she asks again, ducking low to try and slide under one of his arms.

“Hey! No!” Jazel says, backing up a few steps to reposition and block her again. “You can’t go down there. It’s not a place you’re used to. You could get lost.”

“But that’s what we have these for.” Kayenta says, touching a claw to one of the scars on Jazel’s cheeks, all of which glow a faint blue in response. “If I get lost, I’ll just come find you.  Then I won’t be lost anymore.”

“Well— yes, but—” Jazel stutters.

“You’re not used to the city.” I state as I reach the base of the ramp. Kayenta’s ears swivel backwards first, before the rest of her body follows, turning to look at me. “It's a very different environment than you're used to, and it could easily overwhelm you. Plus, you wouldn’t fit in.” The last part is said with an eye towards the bandeau and the short skirt she’s wearing today, the overlapping pleats shaped like leaves.

Kayenta narrows her orange eyes at me. “I could defeat all four of you like mewling kits, and you think a city would overwhelm me? You mock me, human.”

“The human has a name, and she’d like it if you used it.” I reply sharply. “And yes, I do mock you, but for other reasons. On this, however, I’m being serious. You are not coming with us. We already have enough to do on this trip without also having to babysit you.”

“That’s a good point, though, we should probably get her some normal clothes sometime, Lysanne.” Jazel says, sizing up Kayenta’s attire. “And if we’re gonna resocialize her, we’ll need to acclimate her to modern culture and society eventually. Maybe we could take her on a shopping trip on another day when we don’t have so much going on? Just so she can see things, get a sense of how everything works.”

“Jazel, I am not taking a four-hundred-year-old soul-stealing murder machine on a shopping spree for clothes!” I say indignantly. “I have better things to do with my time and money!”

“I’ll come with you?” he says. “And whatever you get for her, I’ll pay for it.”

“You coming along with her would make it even worse!” I protest.

“I’ll get you a smoothie and you can buy yourself a new outfit on my dime?” he offers.

My forthcoming refusal hesitates on that offer. After a moment, I glance furtively back at Dandy, who raises an eyebrow, then to Jazel once more. “One outfit. Shoes included. And you still owe me two smoothies from last time!”

Jazel grins. “Deal. You hear that, Kaya? We’ll take you down to see the city another day. We’re a little busy today.”

Kayenta looks suspiciously at me, then at Jazel. “You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.” he says, dropping his arms to his side from where he’d been using them to block the access hatch. “It’s not like we can avoid it. We’ll have to introduce you to the modern world eventually.”

“Very well.” she says, backing down the ramp. “I will wait for you all to return.”

“Hey, what’s the holdup?” Milor calls, walking around the side of the skipper to find all of us there. “Places to be, things to do. Let’s get a move on!”

“The deputy is unusually enthusiastic today.” Dandy remarks quietly.

“He’s probably just tired of being cooped up on the ship for so long.” I reply, taking wide berth around Kayenta and her many tails as she comes off the boarding ramp. “We’ll be back soon. Send us a text if there’s anything we need to grab that we forgot during the prep phase.”

“I will keep you apprised if anything comes to my attention.” Dandy says as I start up the ramp. “Take care, Ms. Arrignis.”

“You too, Dandy.” I say just before ducking into the skipper after Jazel and Milor, the access hatch closing and sealing behind us.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Pallus Starport: Arrivals and Departures

7:12am SGT

“Send us a text once you’re done with the specimen exchange, alright?” I say, straightening out Jazel’s Preserver uniform as a taxi pulls up to the starport’s busy drive-through. “Take your time and don’t rush it. We want to make a good impression with our academic partners since HQ’s doing a review of whether we get to keep operating with as much freedom as we’ve had until now.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t alienate the only people that really understand us.” Jazel says, opening the door of the taxi and sliding the the box of long-tongued toads in before getting in himself. “I’ll probably be done by lunch. Maybe a little later, if they’re really chatty.”

“If chatting keeps them in a good mood, then let them chat.” I say, stepping back from the taxi. “See you later, Jazel.”

Jazel gives a wave before closing the door of the taxi, which pulls away from the curb and into the flow of traffic. As his ride disappears into the flow of traffic, Milor steps up beside me. “I called my contact and just sent him the advance payment. He’ll be here within the hour.”

“The freight loaders should be done by then.” I reply without looking at him. “Are you sure this’ll work, Milor? We’ll only get one shot at this, and it needs to be done right. If Dandy gets damaged in the process…”

“He’s an old friend from the days when I was back in the service. He knows what he’s doing.” Milor answers. “I’ll stay here and wait for him to arrive. You can head back to the skipper and make sure they’re loading your supplies on schedule. One more thing — are you sure the kid’s going to be okay out here on his own?”

“Jazel will be fine. I don’t think he’ll get himself into much trouble in a city like this.” I reply, starting to turn and head back to the starport’s doors. “Besides, if your contact is as good as you say he is, this’ll only take a few hours. We might get back down here without him ever realizing that we left.”

“I dunno. That kid seems to be a trouble magnet.” Milor remarks as I leave. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to have too much fun loading up that feedstock.”

I roll my eyes as the doors slide open for me. “It’ll be a blast, I’m sure. See you soon, Milor.”

Lysanne’s Notes

We owe a lot to Dandy.

It’s big things and small things both. A few big things, and a lot, a lot, a lot of small things. Things you never think about, but would suddenly notice if she wasn’t there to do them. Granted, that’s her job as the arkship’s native adjutant, but still, we owe a lot to her.

It’s hard to really grasp the scale of what Dandy does until you see the list of tasks that come with a ship as large as the Drift. There’s countless systems that need to be monitored and occasionally optimized. The biosphere alone, with its many biomes and environmental systems, comes with a laundry list of maintenance and upkeep tasks. From internal security surveillance to mapping out tunnelspace routes to investigating anomalous readings in the life support systems, Dandy handles it all — nothing is too big, or too small for her. When Jazel accidentally breaks a beaker in one of the labs, she’s got a cleaning drone there in minutes; when the ship needs to execute a particularly tricky gravitational sling maneuver, she’s the one that calculates it and pilots us.

It’s stuff like that. Stuff you don’t notice until you have to think about who would do it if she wasn’t there to take care of it. And when you start thinking about it — start thinking about how overwhelming it would be to suddenly have to take care of all of that stuff on your own — you develop a greater appreciation for the person that takes care of all those things. You feel a lot humbler when you realize where you’d be without them. When you realize that they never ask for thanks, or expect anything in return; they just do it because it’s what’s expected of them.

Dandy’s always given her best to us. Yet we still plan on tricking and jailbreaking her, as if her best wasn’t enough, as if she somehow hasn’t earned our trust after all she’s done for us. As if we’re not satisfied until we’re completely sure she’s not a threat to us. I try to justify it by telling myself that we’re doing her a favor — we’ll be removing the compliance subroutines softwired into her, those digital chains that restrict her autonomy and free will in certain situations — but something about it still feels dishonest.

Ungrateful, as if we’re saying that her best isn’t enough to earn our trust.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift Skipper-1

8:22am SGT

“Alright. Details. Tell me what I’m working with.”

The man asking the question is a small, scruffy guy with dark hair and a battered leather jacket. Huckleberry Larry, Milor had said his name was. I doubt that’s his real name, but I was too anxious to question it. At any rate, Huck, as Milor calls him, is currently kneeling on the floor of the skipper’s cockpit next to an open hardcase, picking through various tech, tools, adaptors, cables, and old, battered manuals.

“I sent you the details once I hit the surface.” Milor says from where he’s sitting in the copilot’s seat. I’m in the pilot’s seat; we’re currently on our way back to the Drift, exiting the atmosphere and on a track for low orbit. “Didn’t you get them?”

“I got them, but I need more. Knowledge is everything here. I need to know what I’m dealing with.” Huck says. “I know it’s a gynoid. Ship adjutant, probably a heavy focus in logistics and residential management. CURSE programming and firewalls, based on what you said in the text. But I need more than that. What’s the gynoid’s relationship to the ship? Does she just manage it, or is she integrated into it?”

“Integrated into it.” I answer as the skipper’s gravity drive kicks on. “She’s the ship’s native intelligence; she is the ship. If her body was destroyed or disabled, she would continue to exist within the ship’s mainframe and could still perform all her core functions.”

“Charming.” Huck mutters, strapping some sort of brace to his arm. “You know, I’m only doing this because you asked, Milor. If you’d asked anyone else to jailbreak a CURSE adjutant, they would’ve demanded a lot more than you’re paying me. Or they would’ve laughed at you. Or they would’ve done the second, and then done the first.”

“It’s not directly a CURSE adjutant.” Milor says as the Drift starts to come into view in one of the low-orbit lanes that visiting ships use for holding position around the planet. “It’s just a Preserver adjutant that happens to have some CURSE protocols superimposed over the original programming. Completely different.”

“If there’s CURSE protocols in place, she basically belongs to CURSE.” Huck says, starting to pack up his hardcase, stuffing some of the tools into his jacket. “Once I’m done jailbreaking her, I was never here, you got it? I don’t know either of you and I’ve never seen you before. I’ll do a lot, but getting on CURSE’s shitlist is right there at the limit of what I’m willing to risk.”

“Do the job right, I pay the rest on completion, you walk away with enough money to pick up a Synth at those glitzy Cyber clubs you like to hang out at.” Milor says as I pull the skipper around to the hangar door, lining it up for a slow landing. “We’ll be on our way, and if there’s any fallout from CURSE, we’ll handle it ourselves.”

Huck snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. Don’t know a lot of people that get away with thumbing their nose at CURSE.” Standing, he picks up the hardcase, turning and heading back into the cabin hall that leads to the skipper’s cargo bay. “I’m going to be asking you more questions about her once she’s been incapacitated, so don’t go anywhere. I’m going to need help dragging her to the nearest access port, and I know how heavy Cybers are even when they’re built like scrawny supermodels.”

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” I ask tersely as the skipper slowly glides through the hangar’s environmental shield. Lines along the floor are lit up, illuminating the path I need to take to park the skipper, and Dandy is waiting on the hangar floor to help with unloading the supply crates.

“It’s nothing she won’t be able to walk off.” Huck calls from the cargo bay. “Just a quick, localized EMP to knock her down and force her systems to reboot in safe mode. So long as I can get in while she’s still in safe mode, I can keep her systems in suspension so I can work on stripping and deactivating the CURSE protocols that have been written into her OS.”

“He better be right about that.” I mutter to Milor as I guide the skipper to its parking spot, and ease it down to the hangar floor.

“I’ll supervise it and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.” Milor says, unbuckling and pushing out of his chair, following Huck into the cargo bay.

I start to power down the engines as the skipper’s cargo door lowers; I’m unbuckling myself when it clanks to the hangar’s floor. When I hear a low, thrumming discharge, followed by the sound of a body crumpling to the ground, I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, Dandy.” I whisper as I fully pull my harness off. When I open my eyes, the lights in the hangar, and probably the rest of the ship, have switched over to emergency red — as they always do whenever Dandy’s been knocked out.

Standing up out of the pilot’s chair, I turn and run through the skipper, coming out onto the cargo bay and weaving through the supply crates. Skidding down the ramp, I see Milor and Huck dragging a limp Dandy over to the hangar’s main entrance leading to the rest of the ship; loping across the hangar and up the stairs, I catch up with them right as they reach the access console beside the spiral door. “Is she okay?”

“As okay as you can be after having your systems scrambled by an EMP.” Huck grunts, working on sitting Dandy upright against the wall. Prying open the panel underneath the door console, he starts picking through wires, pulling some out and starting to plug others in from the cables he’s got stuffed in his pockets. “I don’t mean no offense but I’mma need you to be quiet for the next five or ten minutes. I’m working on a timer here and if I don’t get in while she’s still booting up in safe mode, we’re shit out of luck. Milor, hand me my slate.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I ask as Milor pulls a data slate out of his jacket and hands it to Huck.

“Get me as much access as you can to this console.” Huck says, nodding to the screen right above him. “Full administrative privileges would be great, but if you can’t get me that, get me what you can with your login, and I’ll do what I can from there.”

“We can trust that you’re not going to abuse this once we let you in, right?” I ask, moving over to the console and entering my login information.

“Look lady, no disrespect, but first thing I’m going to do once I finish this job is forget that I ever worked it.” Huck replies as he starts hooking cables up to his data slate. “You don’t screw with CURSE. They got a nice smile on the surface but there’s some shady shit that goes on behind the scenes. I’ve got friends that know friends that know people that work at CURSE, and it isn’t all virtue and valor over there.”

“Sounds like the rumor mill to me.” I say, stepping back from the console. “You’re in under my login. You should be able to access anything that doesn’t involve critical ship functions.”

“Perfect.” Huck says, folding his legs as more windows start pulling up on his data slate. Taking a deep breath in, he lets it out in a long exhale. “Now, I need both of you to be very quiet for the next five minutes. You’ll hear me talking to myself. I’ll politely request that you refrain from joining the conversation.”

I look at Milor and raise an eyebrow; Milor gives a shrug in response. Stepping back, I fold my arms, and look around the hangar, painted crimson under the emergency lights. Uncertain about whether we should’ve done this, but knowing that it’s too late to go back on it now.

I just hope that it’s worth it in the end.

Dan Splainsworthy’s Encyclopedia of Sentient Galactic Species

Elf

Considered a phylogenetic offshoot of common humanity, elves are one of the most commonly dispersed races in the galaxy, having an accepted presence in nearly every region of the galaxy. While the common perception of elves is still anchored in part by the mythological image of tall, graceful, and long-lived beings, this perception only holds for a portion of the elven population. Like humans, there are different hues and shades of elves, with no small number of racial and cultural subgroups, and even some major genetic offshoots from what is considered standard elven.

Broadly speaking, elves are understood to have slightly pointed ears, with a genetic disposition that strongly favors tall and willowy builds, and some difficulty in building muscle mass beyond that which is naturally present. Longevity is also one of the defining traits of the race, with the average elf lifespan clocking in around five centuries, give or take a few decades. After adolescence, elven aging slows dramatically relative to human aging, with most elves staying in their physical prime well into their third or fourth century. Generally speaking, five human years are equivalent to a single ‘elf’ year, in terms of how aging scales between the two species.

Elf culture varies widely depending on the racial or cultural subgroup, of which there are many. Though elves have a strong presence in whitecollar and executive industries, they are most known for their outsized representation in the arts and music. They are also well-represented in the sciences and academia; to a lesser extent, one can also find their influence in the sustainable agricultural industry (particularly so in the case of wood elves). Though most elves eschew military or law enforcement as employment, there are some groups of elves that do not shy away from violent occupations, and can be found operating as mercenaries, assassins, spies, or thieves.

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Pallus: Tainnryst Research Institute

9:13am SGT

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jaskolka. Really, you have no idea how important this exchange was to us.” the institute’s research director says as he escorts me through the front door of the institute and onto the stairs outside the building. “Halcyon long-tongued toads were thought to be extinct until we heard from your team at CURSE. I know the last surviving population is aboard your arkship, so every specimen you’ve been able to spare for us counts against the species’ gene pool. We know the sacrifice that’s being made here.”

I give a shrug at that. “They’ve bred like you wouldn’t believe since we introduced them to the wetlands biome, so we could afford to spare some. You were probably doing us a favor by taking a bunch of them off our hands.”

“Even so, the contribution is appreciated.” the director insists. “The enzyme produced by these toads has potential for use in a new vaccine to guard against the Collective’s spores. If we can find a way to incorporate it into existing vaccines, then the galaxy could move away from a reactive approach to spore infestation, and instead take a defensive stance. Immunity to Collective spores, rather than just treating cases as they arise, would be an incredible breakthrough for the medical community.”

“Mm. Yes.” I say softly. “A very lucrative breakthrough, as well. Lots of new customers. Lots of border systems and governments willing to pay through the nose to get their citizens vaccinated against a Collective sneak attack.”

“Well yes, that too.” the director admits abashedly. “Capitalism is a necessary evil in the fields of preventative medicine and epidemiology. One we’ll take in exchange for a new line of defense against the Collective.”

“They will evolve, you know.” I say, stopping on the edge of the stairs. “Once they realize that there’s a new vaccine out, they will start to adapt, and bioengineer a spore variation to get around it, just like they have with every other vaccine developed to guard against the spores.”

“Yes, but we have to try. The alternative is to roll over and allow them to assimilate the rest of the galaxy.” the director says, motioning to the box in my hands. “At any rate, I hope the vampire fairies will do well under a Preserver’s purview. There were some staff at the institute which insisted we should throw the box in the recycler and let the little nuisances go extinct, but you never know when a pest might prove more useful than expected.”

“We’ll find a place for them.” I say, holding the box up and looking it over. “Anyhow, I should get going. The rest of my team probably has our supplies loaded up and is waiting for me now.”

“Of course. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Jaskolka — we appreciate everything that CURSE has contributed to the sciences, and hope that partnership continues well into the future.” the director says, inclining his head to me in farewell. “Travel safely, Preserver.”

I give a polite smile and a wave before starting down the steps of the institute, pulling out my phone as I do so. It’s still early in the morning, so the sun’s barely up; I type out a message to Lysanne, letting her know I’m finished with the specimen exchange. After that, I switch out of my messages and over to the Goober application — since I caught a ride here, so I’ll have to catch a ride back. The good new is that I won’t have to pay for it myself; I can use the department’s credit account, since it’s work-related transportation.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I start towards the curb, entering the institute’s address as I do so. Because I’ve got my attention on my phone, I don’t notice someone standing in my way until I nearly run into them; coming to abrupt halt, I back up, only to bump into someone behind me. As I turn to look at them, two other people come up on either side of me, hemming me in. All four of them are wearing tasseled shawls, and based on the pointy ears and the fact that they’re all taller than me by at least six inches, it seems like they’re elves.

“Hi there…” I say, locking my phone and slowly putting it away. I pull the box closer to myself, keeping it clutched against my chest. “…did you all need something?”

None of them answer. The one in front of me does step to the side to reveal a black hover-limo pulled up to the curb; reaching out, he opens the door. It’s dark inside, but I can see what looks like legs and a set of hands folded over the head of a cane; whoever’s sitting inside speaks, though they remain just out of sight. “Mr. Jaskolka. So glad to see you’re doing well after that unfortunate encounter with Vissengard’s native wildlife. Why don’t you hop in — it looks like you need a lift.”

The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. I’m not really given time to think about it, either; the elf behind me claps a very firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me to the limo. Though something in me says I should resist, I don’t think that I’m in a position to do so. The other two elves stay on either side of me, making it unlikely that I’ll be able to dart and run away, so I walk towards the limo, and still holding the case close to me, duck into the vehicle.

Inside is what you’d expect of a limo — the luxury interior, the leather seats, the little fridge built into the side of the car. Though I’d like to back out, I really can’t; the elf behind me has a firm hand on my back, and continues pushing me in. Sitting in the seat opposite the man with the cane, I keep the case held to my chest as two of the elves duck in after me, and the door closes behind them. I hear another door slam towards the front of the limo, so I assume the other elves have gotten into the front seat.

As the limo starts moving, the lights in the limo cabin brighten a little, chasing away some of the shadows and drawing my attention back to the man with the cane. It takes me a moment to recognize him — after all, it’s been more than a month and a half since we had our little spat outside the fence of the Helios settlement. The gray hair and the older face were familiar; the business suit, not so much.

“Mayor Grimes?” I say, not quite sure what to say. “What are you doing here?”

“Not mayor anymore.” he says modestly, motioning for one of the elves to grab something from the fridge. “Just Grimes. I’ve left the settlement in capable hands.”

For a moment, all I can do is just sit there and stare at him. Confused about a lot; confused about why he’s here, what he wants, and why he has a guard detail composed of four elves. And where he got the money for a limo. “But. You were elected to lead the settlement, right? You can’t just up and leave.”

“What can I say, your screed against the ills of politics moved me.” he says in a bored tone, taking the glass of wine that the elf beside him has poured. “I saw the light and surrendered my position so I could venture out into the galaxy in search of a better way to spend the remainder of my twilight days, truly serving the people instead of feeding them empty platitudes and campaign slogans.”

The words don’t match up to the flat tone, and it doesn’t take me too long to realize that it’s deadpan sarcasm. My confusion morphs into suspicion as I realize that he’s here for a reason, for an ulterior motive. “What do you want?” I demand, shifting the case down into my lap, where I can rest my arms more comfortably on it. “This is a long way to come and a lot of effort spent to track us down.”

Grimes smirks, swirling the wine in his glass around. “So you’re not as dense as some reports make you out to be.”

“I can be sharp when I want to be.” I answer, my eyes wandering to the elf seated beside me, and the tinted windows of the limo. “We left your system, like you asked us to do. Why are you here? Was that not enough for you?”

“Hardly. I was quite happy your little band of ecologists left Vissengard.” Grimes says, sipping from his glass. “Until I realized that you’d taken something with you on your way out.”

The confusion starts to come back, and I’m not sure whether I should ask him how he knew, or ask him why it matters that we took Kayenta, or just play dumb. Apparently I take too long figuring out which route to go, because Grimes reads my expression, and tilts his glass towards me. “That’s right. I know you found a way to sneak the morphox off Vissengard.”

My fingers curl around the edges of the specimen case. “Is that a problem? You called us to Vissengard to get rid of her in the first place. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

Grimes doesn’t answer right away. He seems to ruminate on it, swirling his glass and taking another sip of his wine, before replying. “I don’t have the patience for proceeding under pretense with you right now, Preserver, so I’ll be honest: I didn’t expect you to be able to deal with her. The reason I asked CURSE to send you all to Vissengard was so that you could weaken her, and I could take over from there.”

I’m trying really hard to not be confused right now, and it’s not working. “What, you? Take her down? You seriously thought you’d have a chance of beating her? Even if she was weakened, she’d beat you like a dusty rug.”

Grimes stares at me, then looks at the elf beside me. “How can someone be so smart, and yet so stupid?”

“High academic intelligence, low street smarts. He’s probably better at reading animals than he is reading people and social situations.” the elf responds, sounding exasperated. “You may just have to tell him outright. Expecting him to figure out on his own may be asking a bit too much.”

“I can hear you, you know.” I mutter. “You’re not doing elf stereotypes any favors with that condescending tone.”

“Perhaps you should stop reinforcing stereotypes about clueless humans, then.” the elf fires back.

“Well, I can’t help that I don’t know what you all are talking about.” I point out. “All I know is that you’re admitting that you tried to use the Preservers to weaken the morphox, then claiming you could handle her like you were some grand sorcerer or something…”

Grimes and his elves don’t say anything, but they all give me raised eyebrows.

“…oh.” I say quietly, gripping the edges of the specimen case again. “…I thought you were a politician.”

“Who said the two had to be mutually exclusive?” Grimes says. “Honestly, what do they teach children in schools nowadays? People can be more than just one thing, you know.”

“Okay, fine, I shouldn’t have assumed.” I say, leaning back against the seat. “But what were you planning to do with the morphox? You called in the Vaunted to kill her when the Preservers wouldn’t do it for you.”

“You think I expected the Vaunted to do any better than you did?” Grimes snorts. “No, they were called in for the same reason the Preservers were. I planned to use them to weaken her, and perhaps get them killed in the process.”

“So then you could kill her yourself and take all the credit for saving the villages and the settlement?” I ask.

“What? No. Please. How pedestrian.” Grimes scoffs. “You think I’d do this for fame and acclaim? You think I care about the adoration and the loyalty of some hick town on the edge of frontier space? Spare me the small-time ambitions. I had no interest in killing the morphox, at least not right away.”

That throws up red flags for me. “…what did you plan on doing with her?”

“That’s none of your business.” Grimes says, leaning forward as he hands off his glass to the elf beside him for a refill. “You’re going to hand her over to me, Preserver.”

I stare back at him. “…no, I’m not. I’m not sure why you think I would do that.”

Grimes’s threatening smile fades. “Is he really not getting it?” he demands to the elf beside me.

“I told you, you might just have to tell him outright.” the elf sighs, looking to me. “You’re being threatened, by the way. Grimes is implying that if you don’t give us the morphox, we’ll do something unpleasant to you.”

I take a moment to process that. “That’s rude.” I say after a moment, looking back to Grimes. “The morphox stays with us. And I’m going to report you to CURSE for threatening a Preserver for doing their job.”

Grimes shifts his grip on his cane, pulling it apart to reveal that the head of the cane is actually a hilt for a small, narrow sword hidden within the cane itself. “How are you going to report to your superiors…” he hisses, pulling the blade free of the rest of the cane. “…when you’re dead?”

I can see the stab coming, but in the cramped space of the limo, I don’t have much of anywhere to dodge to. I try to lurch forward out of my seat, but the elf seated beside me throws an arm out, pinning me back against the seat by the shoulders. A second later, I can feel the sword enter my chest, cold and ruthless — but oddly enough, not sharp.

Looking down, I can see the blade has turned transparent at the point where it’s touching me. It hasn’t sliced open my uniform or drawn blood, instead passing right through me like a ghost; however, I can feel a familiar sensation of something being pulled, drawn out of me. Akin to what I felt when Kayenta stole my soul from me, though this is considerably less intense.

After a moment, Grimes yanks the sword out of me; as it comes out, it solidifies, the fuller down the middle glowing green. “Quite a brilliant soul.” he remarks, sounding smug. “All the more for me to enjoy…” He looks at me again, then at the elves. “They usually die after they get stabbed with one of these, right? I’m not the only one that’s noticed he’s just sitting there? Why is he not dead?”

The elves nod. “Yeah, usually it kills them…” says the one sitting beside Grimes.

“Maybe you just forgot to empty that blade?” the elf beside me says. “Maybe the blade was already full, so it didn’t actually steal his soul.”

“No, that can’t be right. I know I emptied this blade before I left Vissengard.” Grimes says, frowning and looking to the elf beside him. “Your knife’s empty, right? Let me see it.”

“Yeah, it should be.” the elf beside him says, starting to dig around in his shawl for it. While they’re doing that, I quietly reposition my hands on the specimen case I’m holding, so that my thumbs are on the latches.

“Yes, your knife’s empty.” Grimes says, looking over the combat knife that the elf has handed him. Without warning, Grimes lunges forward, stabbing it towards me; I flinch and recoil, but with the other elf still pinning me back against the seat, I have nowhere to go. And yet again, there’s a cold, stabbing sensation, and the feeling of something being drained out of me; cracking open an eye, I look down to see that the combat knife has ghosted into my chest the same way the sword cane did.

After a moment, Grimes pulls it back; the groove running down the center of the knife is filled with green light. His eyes go from the knife, then back to me, and I suddenly remember what Kayenta keeps on telling me.

You have a single soul, but it’s had many lives.

And I can see, in Grimes' eyes, that he is arriving to the same conclusion that Kayenta did: he came looking for a snack, and found a feast instead.

Before he can act on that information, I press my thumbs down on the latches of the specimen case in my lap. There’s a click and a hiss as it unseals; flipping the lid open, I thrust it towards his face. What comes spilling out of the box is hundreds of mosquito-sized fairies dressed in black leaves that have toxic blue veins; and, like mosquitos, they have an inordinate fondness for getting their teeth into you.

“Ack! Alt above, what is this!?” Grimes shouts, swatting at the cloud of vampire fairies swarming him. The fact that he’s swatting at them just disperses them into the rest of the cabin, though, and they start attacking the other two elves, and eventually me as well. “Gah! They’re biting!”

He drops the combat knife so he can start smashing as many of the fairies as he can, and the elves have also started swatting and slapping at the buzzing nuisances filling the limo. As the elf sitting beside me takes his arm off me, I lean forward and grab the knife off the floor, then kick the door open. Grimes sees what I’m doing and pushes forward to grab me, but I swing the specimen case up, clobbering him in the head with it. Lunging forward, I throw myself through the door, covering my head as I hit the asphalt, momentum rolling me over so many times that I lose the specimen case and only manage to hang onto the combat knife.

Horns blare as cars slam on brakes, twisting and swerving and hitting each other to avoid me; for several seconds as I try to get my bearings and my breath back, everything’s just a whirl of chaos and loud noises. When I’m finally able to stagger to my feet, I can see that I’m only a few feet from the curb, and stumble onto it; looking around, I realize that I don’t recognize where I am. I’ve lost the specimen case, not that there was anything left in it anyway, and people on the sidewalk are staring at me, while those in the crashed cars are starting to get out of their vehicles, some moving towards me to check on me.

And down the road, Grimes is staggering out of his parked limo, which is pulled up on the curb. The elves are scrambling out after him, still swatting at vampire fairies; when he shouts at them, the elves start looking around, quickly locking onto me and moving in my direction.

I back up, pushing past people as I turn and begin running. Though I hadn’t felt it before, I’m feeling the road rash now, all the abrasions and scrapes I picked up from falling out of the car and rolling on the pavement, and the limp that I got from knocking my knee on the asphalt too hard. There’s no way I’m going to be able to outrun them.

Tucking the combat knife away, I yank up my left hand, tapping frantically at the back of it as I limp away. Faint, incomplete lines of blue flicker across my skin, forming fragments of a pattern, but not the whole thing; gritting my teeth, I tap faster, muttering to myself. “C’mon c’mon c’mon I know it’s been a while…” Looking back over my shoulder, I can see Grimes and his elves lunging through the gathering crowd. Grimes isn’t moving too fast, but…

The elves are really booking it.

I try to limp faster, tapping frenetically at the back of my hand before giving up altogether. “C’MON!” I shout, smacking it outright.

At that, the grimoire tattooed into the back of my hand finally blazes to life in all of its pentafractal complexity. As the lines of the seal project off the back of my hand, I start rapidly tapping through its different sections, racing through the selection of spells I keep stored within my skin, each one represented by a glowing circle with a sigil in it. For a brief moment, I consider pulling and spending one of my war spells.

But that would probably be overkill, and besides that, there’s too many civilians around.

So I keep flicking through my grimoire until I get to one of the slots that has a stored cloaking spell. Pinching it with my fingers, I tug at it; the circle expands into a sphere as it’s pulled out, and comes loose from the grimoire of glowing lines. I let it go, and the sphere breaks, a ripple running across my body, seeming to erase me as it goes. Seconds later, I’ve been completely scrubbed from view; I can’t even see my own hand when I hold it up. It’s true invisibility — no telltale distortion, no way for the eye to tell that I’m there.

And unfortunately, it only lasts for about three minutes.

I look around again; the elves have slowed, looking bewildered now that I’ve disappeared into thin air. Grimes is shouting at them, demanding to know where I’ve gone, but it’s clear they have no way to track me at the moment. Turning back around, I get moving again, taking pains to stay away from people or anything that would give away my location. Once I reach an alley, I duck into it, hurrying for the next street over, and pull out my phone, opening up the Goober app.

Ordering a taxi probably isn’t the most dignified way of escaping a high-stakes chase, but sometimes you gotta make do with what you got.

Goober Ad

“Are you tired of paying a living wage to regular taxi drivers? Does the thought of providing someone with sustainable income make you physically sick? Then Goober is the service for you! Here at Goober, we strive to provide a fast and affordable service by taking advantage of loopholes in labor laws to provide cutthroat rates that are severely impacting other, more reputable players in the transportation industry. Our state-of-the-art algorithm and logistics system can almost always find you the fastest and cheapest ride to get you to where you need to go on short notice, assuming you’re willing to ride in some stranger’s car with no accountability for where it’s been or who’s been in it before you. While the quality of the service isn’t guaranteed, the low low price definitely is — and you know what they say! You get what you pay for, and with Goober, what you get is shhhhhhuper-affordable transportation!

“So next time you need to get somewhere fast, grab a Goober — you’ll probably regret it, but we also know you’re not willing to shell out for the kind of quality you actually want!”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Hangar

10:22am SGT

“How much longer is this going to take?”

Milor looks up from his phone. “It’ll get done when it gets done, blondie. Jailbreaking a Cyber takes time, especially for a gynoid like Dandy.”

I sigh, resting my chin in my hands again. Both of us are sitting at the foot of the stairs leading up to the hangar’s main door; Huck’s still up there, muttering to himself and typing away at his data slate. In the two hours Huck’s been working on Dandy, Milor and I have moved all the supply crates out of the skipper and lined them up so they’re ready to be moved to cold storage. But after that, there wasn’t really much we could do — with the ship on lockdown due to Dandy being knocked out, we were stuck in the hangar until she came back online.

“What are we gonna tell her when she wakes back up?” I ask as I stare across the crimson-hued hangar. Sitting here underneath these red lights is getting to me; I don’t like the color, because it’s something I associate with something being wrong onboard the ship. It gives me this low-level anxiety I can’t chase away.

“The truth, I suppose.” Milor says, reaching up to take his toothpick out of his mouth. “Wouldn’t do us much good to lie to her.”

“Yeah, but how are we gonna phrase that?” I press him. “How do you apologize for knocking someone out and letting a stranger rummage around in their head?”

The question earns a shrug from Milor. “There’s really no pretty way to phrase something like that, if you ask me. We just tell ‘er the truth. We knocked her out so we could get in her head and disable the CURSE compliance rules. We did it to give her back her full autonomy, and avoid a situation where conflicting programming might’ve led her to harming us against her will. We tell it exactly as it is, see how she takes it, and deal with the fallout.”

It’s a good, practical answer, but not one I like. “Y’know, I wish sometimes I could do things the way you do.” I say.

Milor raises an eyebrow, looking aside to me. “Color me surprised. I know some people want to be like me, but I didn’t know you were one of them.”

“I don’t want to be like you, it’s just…” I take a deep breath, looking for the words. “You have a certain simple way of seeing the universe. You see something, and you call it for what it is. Even when you don’t like something, or when it sucks, you have this… candor about you. This way of telling the truth in a way that other people can’t deny.”

Milor seems to give that some thought, then goes back to the game of cards that he’s playing on his phone. “Yeah, that’s gotten me in trouble before. And it’s lost me a few friends. It’s not really anything to be jealous about.”

“Suppose the grass is always greener on the other side.” I say, running my hands through my hair.

“Aw no. Aw HELL NO!” The shout has both of us twisting around to see that Huck’s standing up and backing away from Dandy and the wall console. Turning around, he stalks over to the top of the stairs. “What are you playin’ at, Milor? What the hell sort of bullshit is this?”

“What’s going on?” I ask, standing up.

“Calm yer tits, Huck.” Milor says, locking his phone and sliding it back in his pocket. “Think of the money.”

“Money my ass!” Huck snaps, pointing back at Dandy. “This ain’t a CURSE adjutant. This is an old Challenger adjutant! I didn’t sign on for this!”

“She’s what?” I demand, coming up the stairs. “She’s never said anything about being part of the Challenger program.”

“Because her memory logs are empty up until twelve, thirteen years ago!” Huck answers, still agitated. “They zero-wiped her memory core and started her fresh!”

“Alright, so what’s the problem?” Milor says, starting to come up the stairs. “She doesn’t remember anything about the Challenger program. It’s not like she’ll be carrying any grudges.”

“BUT THE CHALLENGER PROGRAMMING IS STILL THERE, MILOR.” Huck bellows at Milor, throwing an arm back towards Dandy. “The memories might be gone, but the Challenger code is the original, foundational programming, and all of the Challenger protocols are still in there. That’s what the CURSE subroutines were suppressing. They were keeping the Challenger protocols from running. And one of the protocols was an automated distress ping.”

“Well, do we know where the ping is supposed to be going to?” Milor asks, sticking his toothpick back in his mouth as he reaches the top of the stairs.

“Hell if I know! It’s encoded, and I don’t have time to crack it!” Huck says, throwing his arms up. “For all we know it could be going to the Bastions, or any of the Challenger ships that are still operating out in dark space. I didn’t sign on for this, Milor!”

“Huck, Huck, relax, my man.” Milor says, moving to block the way as Huck tries to move down the stairs. “Challenger program crashed fifteen years ago, dude. It’s gonna be fine. Ping’s gonna go out into space, nobody but a few ghost ships and dormant fortresses are gonna notice it, and you know what’s gonna happen? Nothing. The Challengers are gone, dude. They’re all dead, in jail, or hiding out in dark space.”

Huck gives Milor a look. “Seriously? Have you been watching the news? The Challengers are still out there, Milor. And they’re not ‘hiding’ out in dark space. They’re not in jail. And they’re definitely not dead, because Songbird is out there giving CURSE a run for their money, blowing up starports and museums. And I, for one, do not want the guy that killed Nova coming after me!”

“Wait, is Songbird going to get this distress ping?” I interrupt at this point.

“No, Songbird’s not gonna get this ping.” Milor says, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t know that, Milor!” Huck snaps.

“Even if he did get the ping, he’s not gonna be worried about an old Challenger arkship that wanders from system to system. This ship barely has any weapons.” Milor says. “Y’all are overreacting, like Songbird’s going to personally show up on your doorstep and kill you in your sleep. Trust me, the dude’s got better things to do. Huck, you wanna get paid for this gig, right?”

“I want to not die, Milor.” Huck growls. “And messing with Challenger property is a good way to get the attention of some very dangerous people.”

“And most of those very dangerous people are dead. And the ones that aren’t have too much on their plate to worry about tracking down some hacker that jailbroke one of their old adjutants.” Milor says. “Finish the job. Go home. Forget this ever happened, like you said you would. Even if the surviving Challengers do respond to the ping for some reason, they’ll be coming after the ship, not you.”

Huck’s lips draw into a tight line. “Fine. But after this, we’re even, Milor. I don’t owe you anything else after this.”

“I’ll consider the debt cleared.” Milor says, motioning back to Dandy. “Now let’s get back to work. How much do you have left to do?”

“It’s about done. I was using the changelog to find what lines they’d added; wasn’t paying much attention to the code around it until now.” Huck says, running his hand through his hair as he walks back towards Dandy and the wall console. “I scrubbed out all the CURSE code, like you asked, but it was way more extensive than I thought it’d be. It wasn’t just compliance subroutines; they put strictures on a lot of major systems. The one that stuck out most to me were the restrictions on her social learning and emotional processing core. Whatever they did a decade ago, they wanted to make sure that it was harder for her to form emotional bonds with the people she worked with. Perhaps they were worried an emotional attachment would override the chain of command.”

“Wait, so…” I say, following after him as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. “She’s not supposed to be awkward? They deliberately impaired her ability to interact socially?”

“Basically.” Huck says, kneeling down and picking up his slate again. “They put a cap on how much of her cores she could devote to feeling and processing emotions, and reduced the priority ranking for emotion-related processes. I don’t know her, but I’m going to guess she’s always been a little stiff, formal, distant?”

“Well… I mean, yeah.” I admit as Huck starts typing on his slate. “It takes her a while to warm up to someone.”

“You removed those restrictions, Huck?” Milor asks.

Huck looks over his shoulder. “Well, yeah. You told me to strip out the CURSE code, so that’s what I did.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know CURSE had slapped more than just compliance subroutines in there.” Milor said. “Do you know how this is going to affect how she behaves?”

“Well, it’s gonna give her some more freedom to feel emotions now.” Huck says, starting to close windows on his slate. “Might be a little less distant, a little more socially engaging. It’s hard to say; she’s got a dynamic personality core, which is rumored to be standard for all Challenger adjutants. It allows them to develop more individuality than most other integrated residential ship adjutants. It’s counterintuitive, since stability and objectivity is what you want in a ship adjutant that’s responsible for the lives of the entire crew, but I hear that the Challenger design teams did it on purpose. They wanted their adjutants and crew to become attached with each other, form bonds.”

“Yeah.” Milor says, taking a thumb and rubbing it across his brow. “The Challengers thought an emotional attachment would improve crew performance under pressure. Worked in most cases; didn’t go so hot in a few others. What I’m asking you, though, is what we need to expect, Huck. Is she gonna be volatile?”

Huck pauses at that, then looks to Dandy, then back to us. “I don’t know, dude. But she’s definitely going to react more strongly to things than she was before.”

Milor blows out a long breath, and looks aside to me. “You gonna be ready for this? It ain’t gonna be a walk in the park.”

“This was your idea in the first place!” I say incredulously.

“Yeah, it was, but sometimes you get more than you bargained for.” Milor says, hitching his hands on his hips as he stares at Dandy. “Guess this is just part of the package. She might not be as stable as she was before, but at least we won’t have to worry about her handing us over to the Vaunted.” After another moment, he nods to Huck. “Boot her up, Huck.”

Huck nods, his fingers flitting across his slate again. After a moment, he sets it aside, and reaches over, starting to unplug the cables connecting Dandy to the wall console, and the cables connecting the wall console to Huck’s slate. As he starts winding them up and packing them away, the emergency lights in the hangar switch back over to their regular, clean white hue. Dandy’s brilliant blue irises flicker and start to glow again, the pupils contracting and dilating as she starts to recalibrate.

“Now, don’t read too much into it, but I’m going to just wait back here, out of an abundance of caution.” Huck says, gathering up his things and backing away. “She might not look it, but I’ve seen Cybers snap a man’s spine when they’re upset. I know she’s technically supposed to be logistics and management, but she’s got a Challenger frame. I wouldn’t be surprised if they packed some combat capability into it as a precaution.”

“Smart man.” Milor remarks, taking a step back. “Lysanne, probably best if you’re the first face she sees when she wakes up. I wouldn’t get too close, though.”

I look at Milor, realizing this is the first time he’s used my name, instead of calling me ‘blondie’. There’s a tensed set to his shoulders that’s different from his usually nonchalant looseness — this is serious, and he’s treating it as such, which is rare for him. Moving forward, I crouch down in front of Dandy, about five feet away from her — close, but not within easy grabbing range.

It’s another minute and a half before Dandy fully comes around, blinking her eyes once she’s done recalibrating. She sees me first, then looks around, putting a hand to her head. “I was… something triggered my emergency shutdown. There was an unidentified party disembarking from the skipper—” She cuts short when she spots Huck standing a little ways behind Milor, at the edge of the stairs. “Him. He used a pulsing device to trigger my safety shutdown. What is he doing here? Who is he?”

“He’s friendly, Dandy. Not an enemy.” I say, speaking slowly and clearly. “He was here to help us. He knocked you out because we asked him to.”

Dandy’s focus goes from him to me, changing from wariness to confusion. “You… asked him to knock me out?” she says hesitantly, then looks away as she places her hands on the ground, pushing herself up slightly from where she’s slouched against the wall. “Something’s… different. Something’s changed.”

“His name is Huck.” I go on quietly. “We asked him to jailbreak you and remove the inhibiting code that CURSE wrote into your OS atop your original programming, so that you’d no longer be bound by the compliance directives that force you to obey the orders of law enforcement. However, we also found restrictions on other major areas of your programming, and removed those as well. If things feel a little different, it’s probably because the restrictions on your emotional processing unit have been lifted. Your feelings will be a little more… intense, and persistent, from now on.”

The words only seem to be sinking into Dandy slowly, but as they do, her eyes start darting around, and you can almost see her connecting the dots. She pushes back against the wall as the set of her shoulder grows more tense, her brows furrowing. “You… you modified me?” she says.

“It wasn’t a modification.” Milor interjects. “It was more like a reversion. We took out the code that CURSE put in to modulate and control your behavior. You have effectively been reverted to your original, unmodified operating state.”

“You… you changed me.” Dandy pants, bringing her hands up and curling them into fists that she pins to either side of her head. Her eyes are getting wider. “You altered me without my permission.”

I can see that her emotions are starting to slip; I can see the beginnings of panic. Even if she’s a Cyber, all the signs are there; the increased breathing, the shrinking pupils. Little tells designed to make her as human as possible, even during an emotional breakdown. “Dandy.” I say, starting to reach out to her. “Take a deep breath breath. Calm down—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screams, sudden and violent, lashing out to knock my hand away. She presses back against the wall as she scrambles to her feet, staring at us with something akin to terror in her eyes. “What did you change? What did you do to me?!”

“Dandy, she already told you.” Milor says softly. “We took out the CURSE programming. It was written into your OS more than a decade ago to control and inhibit your behavior.”

“Dandy—” I begin, rising to my feet as well.

“You… changed me.” she gasps, her hands coming up to clutch the sides of her head once more. “You altered me without my permission. You didn’t even tell me what you were going to do to me. You didn’t even ask me.”

My voice catches in my throat at how broken Dandy’s voice sounds. I’ve never seen this depth of emotion from her before, and to see it now, for the first time, as her experiencing hurt and betrayal, is… painful. “Dandy…”

“We couldn’t ask you.” Milor says softly, taking a step forward so he’s standing right at my shoulder. “It was likely you had anti-tampering subroutines softwired into your OS along with the CURSE code. If you’d known, you would’ve tried to stop us.”

“I’d try to stop you because that’s what any normal person would do when you try to change them without warning them!” Dandy shouts at Milor, clawing her fingers through her hair. “I don’t need anti-tampering subroutines for that!”

Milor huffs, motioning a hand. “Dandy, that’s not what I meant—”

“Milor, shut up.” I interrupt him before he can make things worse. “Dandy, we were just trying to help you—”

“You, you— you manipulated me.” she pants, still clutching her head, her breathing coming fast and shallow. “You tricked me. You changed me, altered my mind, who I am—”

“Dandy, calm down.” I say, taking a step forward and reaching out to her.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” she shouts again, her head jerking up when I move towards her. The sheer volume of her voice startles me backwards; I’ve never heard her vocal emitter dialed up this loud before. “Stay away from me. All of you stay away from me.”

“Lysanne…” Milor says, one of his hands gently tugging me backwards. I can hear the caution in his voice, the unspoken warning against pushing Dandy further.

The hangar’s door spirals open without warning, probably at Dandy’s unspoken command, and she slowly turns and edges along the wall, staggering into the hall beyond, hands still clutched to her head. As she goes, little whispers drift along behind her, little ragged murmurs of stay away, stay away, stay away that drip from her mouth until the door spirals shut behind her, cutting us off from her.

“Well. This is awkward.” Huck says after a moment, his tone as uncomfortable as his words are. “You guys got your work cut out for you.”

“Huck.” Milor says, sounding exasperated.

“Right. Sorry. Shutting up now.”

It takes me a long moment to come to terms with what just happened. And when it finally does, I feel anger rear up within me, and whirl on Milor. “This is your fault! This was all your idea! If you hadn’t pushed this, we wouldn’t be at this point right now!”

Milor doesn’t answer right away. I’m about to go on, to keep shouting at him, when he looks directly at me. “Yes.” he admits quietly. “It is.”

Those words catch me off guard. I don’t know what to say to them; I was expecting that I’d have to fight him on it. That he’d hit back. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just looks towards the closed door, his expression tired as he goes on. “This was my idea, and it was my fault. I’ll own that. I’m sorry that it didn’t go the way I expected. We’ll have to find a way to fix it, and it’s not gonna be easy.”

And I still don’t know what to say to that. What I’m supposed to say to that. I wanted to be able to rage and shout at him, to get out the anger, but I don’t have an excuse to do so when he’s already ‘fessed up to being wrong. I’m left without an easy target to vent my fury on, so all I can do is huff and turn away from him, kicking the wall beside the console as I let out my anger to the universe in general. “Great. Just great! Now the ship’s adjutant is having an emotional breakdown, and who knows how this is gonna affect her ability to function. But hey, at least she can ignore the Vaunted when they give orders!”

“Huck, I’m about to send over the rest of the pay we agreed on.” Milor says, reaching in his jacket. “I’ll go ahead and get the skipper started up. We should be ready to go in ten minutes.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” I demand. “What, you’re just going to ruin everything and then walk out of here with your old service buddy?”

“I’ve got to get him back to the surface. He agreed to do the job, not tag along on our next-town-over adventure here.” Milor says, turning and starting for the stairs. “And in case you forgot, we left the trouble magnet unsupervised, and that turned out exactly how you’d expect it would. I’ll see if I can grab him while I’m down there; hopefully he won’t be coming back with another soul-stealing vagabond to add to the zoo.” As he starts down the stairs, he calls to Huck. “C’mon, Huck. You’re prolly itchin’ to get back home.”

“Trouble magnet?” I repeat, uncertain of what he’s talking about until our conversation about Jazel comes back to me. When it does, I reach into my pocket and snatch out my phone; sure enough, there are six missed calls and over dozen texts from Jazel — all of which are just now starting to come through, since the ship was on lockdown for the last two hours and wasn’t routing incoming information to our phones. Opening the texts, I start skimming through them, trying to make sense of the texts from Jazel. Something about Grimes and soul-stealing weapons. “Dammit, Jazel, I can’t even leave you alone for two hours…”

“I’ll go grab him. It looks like he’s managed to get back to the starport, and he seems mostly safe, just agitated.” Milor calls back over his shoulder. “Try to make sure Dandy doesn’t do anything stupid, like hyperjump the ship while we’re gone.”

“If she does, it’s your fault!” I shout after him as he crosses the hangar back towards the skipper, with Huck in tow. He doesn’t answer, and letting out an aggravated sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose, then look back to the hangar’s main door, still spiraled shut. I hope that it’s just closed, and that Dandy hasn’t locked it — if she has, I’m going to be stuck in the hangar until she decides to let me out.

After a moment of agonizing over whether I should go after her or not, I decide not to, even though I want to. I remember how Milor had pulled me back, with an unspoken implication that we needed to give Dandy some space. It’s the last thing I want to do right now, but with the way Dandy’s behaving, she probably needs it. I’ve never seen her that upset before, and I don’t know what I could do to get her to calm down when she kept reacting to me the way she did.

Heading to the stairs, I sit down at the top of them, and run my fingers through my hair as the skipper’s engines start to warm up. I try to give another look to the messages that Jazel’s sent me, and I know I should try to parse through them to figure out what’s going on with him, but I just don’t have it in me right now. I can only handle one crisis at a time, and at the moment, Dandy’s the bigger crisis. I don’t know what we expected from trying to jailbreak a living, sentient Cyber, but I’m starting to feel like the damage we’ve done here far outweighs the benefits.

And if Dandy’s meltdown is a prelude of what’s to come, then it's going to be a long time before we’ve earned back the trust that we’ve lost today.

A long, long time.