Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #25: The Cruelty of Children]

Log Date: 11/20/12764

Data Sources: Ilyana Kemaim, Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Administrator Tenji’s Office

5:08pm SGT

“You CANNOT send them to Avvikerene!”

I drive home my point by slamming my hands down on Tenji’s desk and leaning my weight on them as I loom over it, glaring at her. Sitting in her chair behind her desk, fingers laced together and elbows propped on her desk, she doesn’t look fazed by my outburst, reaching up to adjust her glasses ever so slightly. “I understand your concerns, but we do not have a choice, Whisper—”

“You do NOT understand my concerns!” I snap at her, lifting a hand up off the desk and jabbing a finger at her. “You do not understand ANYTHING about what you are trying to do here! You do not understand the place you will be sending them to, you do not understand the risks that come with it, you do not understand the burdens they will be coming back with, and if you do understand those things, then you are CHOOSING to send them there anyway knowing full well what Avvikerene is going to do to them!!”

Tenji’s lips flatten into a straight, terse line. “I see you feel very strongly about this.” she states, remaining aggravatingly calm.

“Of course I feel strongly about this!” I explode. “You are going to ruin good Peacekeepers by sending them to a place you do not understand! Not only that, but you want to send Dare and Kwyn! I trained Dare! Dare trained Kwyn! You are going to ruin all the work I have done and the legacy of Peacekeepers I have created at CURSE!”

“A legacy of debatable value, given your propensity for disregarding the chain of command, but I digress.” Nazka mutters from the side of Tenji’s desk where he’s been watching in silence so far.

“Shut up, Nazka!” I hiss at him, then turn back to Tenji. “If this was just a trip to one of Avvikerene’s walled outposts, I wouldn’t mind as much. But this isn’t that. You want to send our people out into the wilds of Avvikerene. People that go to Avvikerene’s outposts usually come back. The ones that wander into the wilds don’t.”

“You did.” Tenji points out simply.

“Yeah, after TWENTY YEARS!” I shout, slamming my raised hand back down on her desk. “And how the hell did you find out I’ve been to Avvikerene?! Who told you?! Who did you talk to?!”

“I am going to ask that you calm down and deescalate, Whisper, or I will deescalate for you.” Nazka says icily. His arms are still folded behind his back, but his chilly tone and cold grey eyes make it clear that he’s willing to follow through on his warning. “I understand this topic brings up traumatic experiences for you; however, you are still expected to comport yourself in a manner befitting one of CURSE’s elite.”

I shove away from Tenji’s desk with a furious hiss, turning and pacing the open space in the office. Reaching up, I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure out what to do with the bubbling anger within me. It’s been a while since I was this livid, and I’m just glad that Dare and Kwyn aren’t here to see me like this.

“This should come as no surprise to you, Whisper, but we conduct extensive history and background checks on all of our operatives.” Tenji says after a moment of brittle silence. “Peacekeepers included. Peacekeepers especially, since they are privy to some of CURSE’s most sensitive information. It’s important that we understand our operatives, and ensure that we mitigate the possibility that our operatives might be compromised by their past. The intelligence department found out that you visited Avvikerene some three hundred years ago, as part of a routine review of Peacekeeper backgrounds. That information was not obtained through any methodology that we do not already use for everyone else on the Peacekeeper roster. Nor has the fact that you’ve been to Avvikerene impacted our assessment of your operational viability. As a matter of fact, with this assignment now before us, it’s actually enhanced it. You are the only operative we have that has… you said twenty years? Two decades of experience with Avvikerene, its risks, and its dangers. Given the vehemence of your response, you clearly understand them far better than anyone else in CURSE’s employ, which makes you better equipped for this assignment than anyone else in the organization.”

I stop pacing and glare at her. “If my expertise on the topic is so valuable, then perhaps you should listen to what I’m saying and not send our people there.”

“That is not an option.” Nazka says with a flat, unsparing finality. “We do not presently have the luxury of picking and choosing our missions. Our operative within the Valiant has informed us that the Valiant have managed to bring the DIRT network back online, which implies that they will soon have access to the full range of the Bastions’ capabilities, assuming they do not already have access. As you were an Accountant yourself, and likely utilized the DIRT network on multiple occasions, I do not have to tell you how grave this recent development is. If the Valiant begin utilizing the DIRT network to even a fraction of its full potential, it will place us at an insurmountable tactical disadvantage in terms of responding to galactic crises and issues. And that is just the beginning. If we hope to retain our place as the galaxy’s beacon, we will need to take the risks required to secure resources that allow us to stay level with the Valiant, and ideally, ahead of them.”

“Yeah? And how is going to Avvikerene supposed to fix that?” I demand. “What is there that is so damn important that we need to sacrifice our people to get it?”

“The intelligence department has located a Dragine artifact on that planet, which, to our knowledge, has not yet been claimed, and furthermore, is not yet common knowledge to the local government or to any other major entities in the galaxy.” Nazka’s response is smooth and seamless; he’d been ready for that question, and probably knew it was coming. “Given our recent failure on that front in the past month, this presents us with an opportunity to make up for that lost opportunity.”

I huff a breath through my nose, shaking my head. “More Dragine artifacts. You all go crazy chasing that shit, not even knowing what they do. Willing to sacrifice people for it when you don’t even know if you’ll be able to harness it. I guess I’m not surprised. The younger races have always chased the Dragine’s breadcrumbs. Fought and killed each other over the scraps from their table. Maybe hoping you guys had learned from the last ten thousand years was asking a bit too much.”

“We understand that the wereckanan take a dim view of Dragine artifacts.” Tenji says. “That being said, it is undeniable that those artifacts often contain the potential to change conflicts and empower organizations. If there is a chance that this artifact could turn the tables in our fight against the Valiant, we are going to pursue that chance, for the sake of the stability we have brought to the galaxy in the last decade. That is why we are sending people to Avvikerene, Whisper.”

“So you know what it does to people. And you’re gonna send ‘em anyway.” I say, hitching my hands on my hips. “Nazka had to have told you. There’s no way a sorcerer of his stature wouldn’t know about Avvikerene.”

“I have advised the Administrator on the myriad of threats which will confront the team deployed to Avvikerene, yes.” Nazka states. “And I have also advised her of the unorthodox nature of those threats. However, my knowledge on the topic is limited to what I have read in study and research; I have never been to Avvikerene myself. You, on the other hand, have extensive experience with Avvikerene’s environs and firsthand knowledge of its myriad dangers. That is why we are asking you to lead the team on this assignment.”

I press my lips together, frustrated and wanting to say something, but not finding the right words for it. After a moment I shake my head and look away. “And why do you want to place Axiom and Little Wolf on this assignment with me? I thought you hated it when the three of us are together.”

“We have noticed that you are not always the best influence on the two of them.” Nazka says tersely. “Independently, Axiom and Little Wolf are excellent Peacekeepers that perform their responsibilities with conviction and dedication. Once we start mixing you three together, the results are… we will simply say that they are open to interpretation. However, this assignment has certain roles that the three of you fit into better than any of our other Peacekeepers, and it would be irresponsible for us to ignore that.”

“You are the ideal leader for the assignment due to your prior experience with Avvikerene.” Tenji says, picking up where Nazka left off. “Axiom’s skillset and equipment provides durability and strength, and his possession of the Spark provides an ace that we hope he will be able to harness in situations with stacked odds. Little Wolf’s skillset allows her to provide reconnaissance, reparative care, and if necessary, to fill the bruiser role on a team. And the three of you know each other well, and have a close functioning relationship as friends and coworkers. My understanding is that having something like that will provide an important anchor when dealing with Avvikerene’s threats.”

I work that through my head, and I can’t really say she’s wrong. Avvikerene is not a place where you go with people you don’t get along with. The wilds will eat you alive on your own, and exploit any divisions in the group you’re traveling with; the more tightly-knit your team is, the safer you’ll be. “You don’t have another group of miscreants you can throw at this problem? Like… what about Tictoc and Onslaught? Those two get along well, don’t they? Or maybe Headache and Surge?”

“We had considered others, but at the end of the day it boils down to advantages you three have that are simply not present in other squad compositions.” Nazka says. “And particularly in your case — there is no one else in CURSE that knows Avvikerene as well as you do. Tenji was opposed, but I told her that you were a requirement for this assignment, and if we elicited to send someone else in your place, the mission would likely fail.”

I narrow my eyes at that. “You can skip the flattery.”

“I am simply stating the facts. Your experience makes you better equipped for this assignment than anyone else currently at our disposal, and failing to acknowledge and act on that fact would constitute tactical negligence.” Nazka replies coolly.

I fold my arms. “If I’m a requirement for this assignment, what happens if I refuse to go? The assignment collapses, doesn’t it?”

“No.” Tenji says tonelessly, staring at me over her laced fingers. “We will send Axiom and Little Wolf to Avvikerene without you.”

“But Nazka just said—” I start to protest.

“Nazka was being kind. Shocking, I know.” Tenji says coldly. “It is true that he told me you were a requirement for this assignment; that does not mean I agreed with his assessment. CURSE does not have the luxury of walking away from this opportunity; I will not allow your petulant behavior to sabotage the work and the sacrifices we have made to obtain the intel about the artifact on Avvikerene. This assignment will proceed at all costs; Axiom and Little Wolf will be dispatched to Avvikerene to retrieve the artifact. Whether or not you will be there with them is up to you.”

“You can’t do this to them!” I retort. “They’re just kids; they don’t know what you’re about to send them into, what it’s going to do to them!”

“Which is exactly why we wanted to send you with them.” Tenji states.

“You shouldn’t be sending anyone!”

“BUT WE ARE.” Tenji barks, standing up and her sharp shout taking me aback. I’ve never seen her lose her composure before. “We have tried to do this gently, but I have reached the end of my patience with you, Whisper. We have sacrificed people and assets to get this intel. We are currently in a cold war with the Valiant that we cannot afford to lose. The peace that the galaxy has enjoyed for the last decade is starting to fracture. Mokasha was just the first crack in the dam. I do not want to send my operatives to dangerous worlds, but this is the work we do. This is what we signed up for. Kwyn and Dare know and understand that.” At this point, she’s come around her desk and up to me, glaring down at me. “Are you going with them, or not?”

Normally I’m pretty good dealing with aggression, but right now it’s coming from a source I’m not used to. There’s fire in Tenji’s crimson eyes, a commanding force that I recognize — the anger of a fighter that does not want to be sitting behind a desk all day. Someone who would rather be out there in the field, making a difference with her own two hands instead of relying on others to do it for her. She was good at hiding it, but being the Administrator clearly wasn’t Tenji’s first choice.

“I’ll… I’ll go with them.” I say, averting my eyes. “But I maintain my stance. This assignment is going to damage them. You will be responsible for that. The only reason I’m going is to try and keep them safe, and try to blunt the worst of the damage.”

“I’m aware. But someone has to do it.” she replies, her voice stony and unyielding. “I will tell SCION to begin making preliminary arrangements for the assignment. Once Axiom’s training with Little Wolf shows signs of progress and we feel like he can at least partially harness his Spark, we will set a date for the deployment to Avvikerene. You will report to SCION tomorrow and bring him up to speed on the difficulties you expect to encounter on Avvikerene, so he can begin planning and procurement for the resources that the assignment may require. Is that clear?”

“Yeah. It’s clear.” I mutter, avoiding her gaze as I fold my arms again.

“Good. You are not to discuss this with Axiom or Little Wolf. I do not want Axiom to be distracted while he is learning to harness his Spark, since it could mean the difference between life and death on this assignment.” Tenji orders. “If there is nothing further, you are dismissed.”

There’s nothing I can say to that, so I turn and make for the door without a backwards glance. Once it slides shut behind me, I pause for a moment to take a deep breath, and gather myself. I feel like shit right now, and the kernel of unease in my chest is already starting to grow into a ball of dread at the thought of having to go back to Avvikerene. And not just myself, but my friends as well, who have no idea what the administration is about to put them through. All in the name of grabbing an artifact that might not even make a difference in the fight against the Valiant.

I hate this.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Sleep Study Lab

11:54pm SGT

“Ready for another go at it, then?”

I rub a forefinger into the corner of my eye as the door to the sleep study lab slides open before us. Both Kwyn and I have come down here in our pajamas, and have being doing that every couple days for the past week and a half. “What’s the approach we’re gonna take tonight?” I ask as we step inside.

She takes a deep breath as the door slides shut behind us. “I was thinking we’d wing it tonight. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere by systematically rooting through your head, so let’s just get in, get settled, and see where it takes us.”

I glance at her as we reach the reclined chairs in the middle of the room. “This doesn’t have anything to do with last time, does it?” Our last dreaming session hadn’t exactly gone the way we planned, opening straight into a battlefield nightmare and going downhill from there.

“No, it’s just that I was thinking about it the other day, and I think we’re approaching this the wrong way.” she says, getting into one of the reclined chairs, which are side by side, but tilted at opposing angles to each other. Since this is the sleep study lab, these recliners are decked out — they’ve got a smooth, flowing frame that’s broken up into segments that can independently adjust their height and angle to change the resting surface, armrests that actually provide support for your arms, and all of it padded with a couple layers of gel packets that can change temperature, and stiffen up or relax to form a firm or soft surface. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were only ever in here for experiments or tests, it’d be the best night of sleep you ever got. “We’ve been trying to systematically dig into the different parts of your mind while looking for the Spark, and we haven’t been getting anywhere. But dreams are, by their very nature, chaotic; they wander and roam, go in directions that are hard to predict. A dreaming mind is a maze, and the harder you try to navigate in it, the more lost you get.”

I sidle into the other chair, starting to get comfortable as it adjusts to my frame, tilting and angling so my head and neck are well-supported. “So instead of trying to force it, you want to get in there and just go with the flow?” I infer.

“Pretty much.” she says, taking my hand and using a strip of velcro to strap our pinkies together. She needs skin-to-skin contact in order to come wander my dreams, and this ensures that the contact wouldn’t be broken if either of us shifted in our sleep. “Just let the current take us. I’m pretty sure we’ll get where we need to go if we let it take us there.”

“Well, you’re the expert here, so I’ll defer to you.” I say, laying my head back and getting comfortable. I feel a pulse of warmth from the gel padding beneath me as I close my eyes, and start to empty my mind. “See you on the other side.”

“I’ll see you there.” I can feel her start to settle as the tugging on my pinky eases off, and silence takes over the room as both of us focus our shared goal:

Falling asleep.

I come about the way I usually do in dreams: suddenly there, all at once, right in the middle of things. And right now, that’s a train station back on my homeworld of Velennia, rushing to get on the train before it leaves.

I manage to make it onto the train before the doors close, though it’s a squeeze. It’s rush hour, packed tight, and the train is pretty clustered. I find my place clinging to one of the poles as it starts moving, and start to settle in for a long ride when I feel another passenger jostling against my back. Turning around, I’m about to ask if they need to get past me, when I see that it’s a young woman with tousled, blizzard-white hair and striking tawny eyes staring up at me. In a word: breathtaking.

“Dare? Are you lucid?” she asks.

Everything comes flooding back, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shit.” I mutter, pressing a hand to my forehead. I recognize her now, and realize that I’m reliving, in a different setting, the emotions I felt when I first met Kwyn. It’s a heady, exhilarating sensation of attraction at first sight — something I hadn’t thought I’d feel again, since I’d become familiar with her over the last year. But I’m feeling it again as if I’m meeting her for the first time, and it’s an intoxicating distraction I don’t need right now. “Yeah. Yup. Definitely lucid now.”

“Are you okay?” she says, sounding concerned.

“Yeah yeah yeah I’m good, I’m good, I just— just need a moment.” I take a deep breath,  trying to push aside the memory of how I felt when I first met Kwyn. When I open my eyes, the train has emptied out — it’s no longer packed to the gills. There are only a few people sitting in the seats and standing by the poles. “Alright. I think I’m good now.”

“Do you know where we are?” she says, looking around the train car.

“Metro on Velennia, my homeworld.” I say, looking out the windows. I can’t make anything out, though; it’s all blurry beyond the glass. “In one of the cities, but I don’t know which one. I suppose it doesn’t matter; my subconscious is probably just patching it together from my memories.”

Kwyn watches through the windows for a moment before saying anything. “Interesting. Trains are like rivers; they take you from one place to another. I wonder if this is a dream about traveling.”

I glance at her. “You think it means something?”

“Perhaps. But let’s not look at it too closely. We’re going with the flow tonight, just letting the current carry us, remember? So don’t think about it too hard. Just let it happen.”

I nod. “Right.” Looking around, I go on. “Well, I suppose we can sit down while we’re—”

The train starts to slow down before I’ve finished my sentence, leaving me a little befuddled considering we’d left the station just a few minutes earlier. Kwyn notices as well, but doesn’t seem as surprised by it. “Dreams are like that.” she explains. “You never spend a lot of time in dreams doing a whole lot of nothing, do you? You’re never sitting, or waiting, or idling. There’s always something happening. And whenever one thing finishes, you’re always ferried along to the next happening in the dream. From event to event to event until you finally wake up.”

Upon reflection, I find that she’s right — most of my dreams do follow that pattern. A series of events, one after another, with the transition between each scene blurry and expedited. The parts that you remembered in vivid detail were always the happenings themselves. The connecting path between each happening — that was always hazy, truncated, and forgotten more quickly than the rest of the dream.

The train starts to slow to a stop, and once it has, the doors open. But those don’t open to a train station — they open instead to the inside of a schoolbus, as if it was running parallel to the train. It looks like it’s in the middle of an afterschool route, with a bunch of middle schoolers tightly packed onto the seats with their backpacks. Most seats look like they can fit two students, but a lot of the seats have a third student squeezed on, with the bus clearly over capacity.

“I hadn’t been expecting that.” Kwyn says, looking at me. “Do you know what this?”

“Yeah, it’s a…” I say, my eyes searching the seats until I settle on one of the rows that’s packed three-heavy. “…it’s a memory…”

I trail off as I recognize what this is. That row in the middle with three kids to a seat; there’s one kid by the window, one in the middle, and an overweight one sitting on the edge. It’s clearly uncomfortable for all three of them, and I’m starting to remember how it felt on the day. No air conditioning on the bus, packed tight with nowhere to go, tired and sweaty and just wanting to get home.

“You need to scoot more.” the kid in the middle says to the one on the edge.

“I can’t scoot, I’ve gotta stay out of the aisle!” the overweight kid on the edge says.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to learn that fat people have to move, Jimmy.” the kid against the window snaps.

It’s a harsh and blistering retort, and Jimmy just looks away, out into the aisle. Clearly it hurt, but he doesn’t say anything to it, maybe because it’s a battle not worth fighting. Without warning, the doors of the train close again, cutting us off from the memory as it starts moving once more.

There’s quiet as the train gets underway once more. I know Kwyn is parsing her way through what we just saw, trying to make sense of it and what it mean. But I already know what it is, and I owe it to her to explain it.

“That was me.” I say quietly. “I was the kid by the window.”

Kwyn looks at me. Doesn’t say anything. Even though I’m not looking at her, I can feel the questions in her eyes, asking for further explanation. So I take a moment to gather myself, and reply to that unspoken question.

“It was hot. There was no AC on the bus. And I often got squished up against the window.” I say, thinking back to those days when I still rode the bus to and from school. “I was frustrated, and it was a cruel thing to say, but it just came out of me. I wasn’t thinking about it beforehand; the words just came together and spilled out of me.” I pause for a moment. “It only took a few seconds for me to regret what I said, because once I heard the words out loud, I realized how mean they were. But I couldn’t take them back. Words are like coilgun spikes or plasma bolts; once you pull the trigger, once they leave your mouth, they’re out there, and you can’t take them back.”

“It happens.” Kwyn says. “Everyone has their bad days, and you were just a kid.”

“It does happen. But that doesn’t make it right. Doesn’t make it okay.” I say heavily, looking up now, watching the blurry images speed by outside the window. “I did apologize to him, eventually. It took two or three years, and it wasn’t until high school. But I recognized I’d done wrong by him, and I apologized. And he was gracious about it, so gracious, probably more than I deserved. He was quick to forgive me. Acted like it was no big deal.” I fall silent, then go on. “I don’t think I ever forgave myself, though. Because I would think about it now and then. I’d remember what I said, how hurtful it was. It just always stayed with me, this moment I was ashamed of.”

It feels like Kwyn is about to say something, but the train starts slowing down again, and our attention fixes on the doors. This time, they open to a scene from within a low, single-story room with a bunch of cheap chairs and teenagers in ranger uniforms. Disorganized and chattering, without an adult to supervise them at the moment, but clearly expecting one to turn up at any moment, since most of them are sitting down. One of the teenagers — a gangly, bald kid with a cleft palate, malformed nose, splotchy skin, and gimlet eyes goes to sit down in his chair — only for the kid behind him to jerk his chair away at the last second, resulting in the bald kid falling back on his ass on the cold cement floor, to the howling laughter of the other teenagers.

And then the doors are closing again, and the train moves on once more.

I can feel Kwyn looking at me, and I nod without looking back at her. “Yes.” I say with some difficulty. “That was me.”

She doesn’t say anything, and it’s a moment before I can speak as well.

“That one has always stuck with me not because of what I did, but who I did it to.” I say after a moment. “The chair-pull prank was pretty common in our ranger troop. Pretty common among teenagers generally. But it seemed… worse, somehow, to do it to someone like Kirk, who already struggled with a lot, as I’m sure you could tell.” I become quiet for a bit as I reflect on it. “We were not mean to him, as such; we treated him like one of us. He was one of ours, even with the birth defects; it didn’t really mean much to us. He spoke funny, yeah, and he looked a little different, but he could hang and make jokes just the same as the rest of us. We didn’t treat him with kid gloves, but I think that’s what he wanted. He wanted to be normal, to be just like the rest of us.” A moment of quiet. “But it still felt wrong to pull that prank on him specifically. And that stayed with me as well; I was never really able to shake it off, or leave it behind.”

Nothing is said in response to that, and that’s hard for me. With Kwyn, it feels like silence is more damning than words could ever be. With a friend, silence sometimes says more than words do, can express any range of crushing emotions: disappointment, disapproval, judgement.

But regardless of her reaction, the train is already slowing again, the doors peeling open as it comes to a stop. This time it’s two teenage boys at the edge of the forest, a younger girl following behind them. One of the boys is thicker, more stocky, while the other is more of an average build. Upon finding that they’ve been followed, the boy with the average build turns and shouts at her. “Go away!”

“Why not? I want to come to!” she protests.

“No, you can’t! Go away!” he repeats again.

“Please, I won’t bother you—”

“GO. AWAY.”

The girl bursts into tears, turning and trudging back across a row of lawns and houses tucked up against the forest. The boys turn and cross into the forest, the stocky one looking uncomfortable, and the average one looking annoyed. Then the doors are closing again, and the train is moving once more, but all I can do is close my eyes, struggling with the pain I feel within. When I can bring myself to open them again, Kwyn is looking at me.

“That was my sister.” I say softly.

She doesn’t say anything, though she looks away again. I can only imagine what she’s thinking right now. I want to say something, to explain it to her, like I did with the last two memories, but I can’t bring myself to do so. Having to explain these moments of shame and regret — after the first couple of times, the explanations start feeling like excuses, even to the one that’s doing the explaining. Even if the explanations are valid.

We stand in silence as the train races along through the blurry expanse of memory. I don’t know what’s going through Kwyn’s head, but I’m not going to guess at it, because I know that my guess will probably be off the mark. Instead, I search for the words I want to say — the words that I feel I need to say — and once they fall into place, I look to her.

“Kwyn.” I say quietly. “I need to apologize to you.”

She looks at me, her tawny eyes questioning.

“I am not the role model, the example, I suppose I have imagined myself to be.” I admit. “I’m not even the role model that others tell me I am. That’s become abundantly clear with these memories.”

“They were things you did a long time ago.” Kwyn points out.

“I suppose so. But they were still things that I did.” I say, looking out the windows of the train doors at the blur outside. “You deserve a better teacher, a better mentor, one that has not made the kinds of mistakes that I clearly have. I have not provided the kind of example that you, or other recruits, deserve.”

She doesn’t answer right away, pressing her lips together. When she does speak, she looks right at me. “I don’t want a perfect role model. A perfect role model has nothing to teach me. I want a mentor that has made mistakes, knows they’ve made mistakes, and can admit they’ve made mistakes. I can learn something from that.” There’s determination in her eyes as she watches me. “And that’s the kind of person I would want to be.”

There is so much that is said there, without being said. That she still looks up to me, that she sees something worthy in the person I am, even against the history of my past failures. And while it feels like forgiveness, like redemption, it also feels daunting to know I have someone looking to me, and my actions, my decisions, as models for how they might make their own decisions. It’s an honor, but one that doubles as a heavy responsibility as well.

“That should be sufficient. We will take it from here.”

The words catch both of us off guard, and we turn to see that the doors on the other side of the train have opened to what looks like a woodbuilt foyer with earthy tones and warm lights. Standing within the foyer are two people — a sturdy, muscled man with a bald head and an islander tan, and a woman with brown hair, red irises, and a cocky stance, her arms folded as she leans against against the doorway.

Kwyn looks at me, and in that look alone, I know the question. 

“No.” I say, shaking my head and looking back through the open doors. “That’s not a memory, or at least not one I recognize…”

“Even if it was, a memory wouldn’t be talking to you, would it?” the woman says.

“We are the ones you have been searching for over the last several nights.” the man says, and I notice that he’s got tattoos winding up one arm and around the back of his neck — tattoos of the tribal variety, not the gang variety. “We were waiting for a sign that you were ready, and that exercise in humility seems to have satisfied the others.”

I open my mouth, then close it — questions lingering on my tongue, questions I think I already know the answers to, but I’m not entirely sure. “…you two are the Spark? I thought it’d be something… different.”

“Oh, there’s a lot more than just two of us.” the woman says, unfolding her arms to motion to the foyer behind her. The man steps out of the way slightly, revealing that the foyer leads into what looks to be a genial tavern that’s decently well populated with all sorts of individuals. “A Spark is all the individuals that have ever carried it and used it, which is quite a few of us, especially this far down the line.”

“And most of us are ready to meet with you now, if you are ready as well.” the man says. “Just you, though. Your friend will have to remain here; while she has good character, the Spark is not her responsibility.”

I don’t know what to say to that; it hadn’t occurred to me that Kwyn wouldn’t be with me when I encountered the Spark. I glance at her, and she seems surprisingly calm, nodding to me. “It makes sense.” she says. “You’re the one carrying it, so you’re the one they want to talk to. There’s no reason for them to share those secrets with me, since I won’t be using it.”

“But what are you going to do while I’m gone? Is it… okay for you to be here while I’m not around?” I ask. Every time we’ve done this, we’ve walked my dreams together — it hadn’t occurred to me that we could walk them separately.

“I’ll wait here for you.” she says. “If you wake up before coming back, I’ll wake up too. It’ll be fine.”

I take a breath. I still have my concerns, but Kwyn knows more about this than me, and I should trust her judgement. “Alright. I’ll… come back once we’re done, I guess.” I say, stepping towards the open doors. The man and the woman part to let me by, and then fall in behind me as I step into the foyer. When I look over my shoulder, the doors have already closed, hiding Kwyn from view.

“My name is Rotenga, and that is Gazelle.” the man says as Gazelle moves on ahead of us. “We are past bearers of the Spark, although Gazelle is closer to your time than I am.”

“Rotenga’s never seen a starship in person. Or at least, one that could go further than the moons of his world.” Gazelle says as she leads us into the tavern’s main room. “Luckily for you, I’m well-traveled in that regard.”

“And so… everyone else in here, they’re people that have had the Spark in the past?” I ask, looking around the tavern. There’s all sorts in here — old people, young people, all sorts of species ranging from Halfies to humans to sylvans and even a kidaku.

“Yes. There are some outside as well.” Rotenga says as an orc at one of the near tables raises a stein to me. I return the gesture with a polite wave. “Each of them has wisdom, experience, and counsel to offer.”

“Some of them more than others.” Gazelle says as we reach the bar along one side of the tavern, tucked away under the second-floor overhang. “I, for example, had the Spark for a few hundred years, while Rotenga unfortunately only had it for a few decades.”

“It is not the length of time spent carrying it that matters.” Rotenga says, moving around to take a spot behind the bar while Gazelle sits to one of the stools in front of it, and motions for me to do the same. “Rather, it is what you do with it during that time which matters.”

“So will I be here? Eventually, one day?” I ask as I sit on the stool next to Gazelle.

“An echo of you, yes.” Rotenga says, pulling down a couple of glasses from the hooks above. “All of us you see here are echoes of the people that carried the Spark, as they were just before their death, or at the time that they passed the Spark on to another. We act, behave, and carry the opinions and thoughts of those people as they were in that point in time. Those people, their souls, have all long since passed on into different places and different lives.”

“Oh.” It’s kinda startling to consider that even after I’ve died, there’s going to be an echo of me hanging out in this… well, whatever the Spark is. “So you guys, and everyone else in here — you all used the Spark during your lifetimes?”

“We did.” Gazelle says as Rotenga starts pouring a couple of drinks. “And you’re going to ask what the Spark is, and how you’re supposed to use it.”

“I mean, well yeah.” I confirm. “I need to know how to use it. And knowing what it is would be nice too.”

Gazelle smiles and holds her arms out. “We are the Spark. All of us.”

“The Spark is a legacy. A library, passed from one bearer to the next.” Rotenga says, pushing the drinks across to us. “It is the collective knowledge, wisdom, and powers of all those who have ever carried and used the Spark. The things you know, the powers you have, become tools available to anyone that carries the Spark after you.”

“Oh.” I say, taking the drink. “I, uhm, probably aren’t contributing much in that regard… I don’t have any powers. I’m just… normal human. Nothing special.”

“You can contribute your experience and wisdom to those who may hold the Spark after you.” Rotenga says. “You are not the first person without powers to carry the Spark, nor will you be the last.”

I take a tentative sip from the glass, and it seems like I’m sipping some odd mix of apple cider and blueberry juice, or at least that’s what it tastes like. “So how exactly do I use it? I mean, I understand that it kicked on during my fight with Laughing Alice, when someone important to me was being threatened, but is that the only time it’ll kick in? Can I control when it activates?”

“Not really.” Gazelle says, leaning on counter as she sips from hers. “Sparks usually trigger when they need to. At critical moments, or in dire situations. Some rare individuals can trigger a Spark at will, but it’s inconsistent at best. The rule of thumb is that you’ll Spark off when you need to — and there’s no use trying to force it. It’ll happen when it needs to happen, not a moment sooner and not a moment later.”

My shoulders slump a little at that. Tenji and Nazka probably aren’t going to be happy hearing that — having an asset that can’t be reliably utilized makes it hard to fit into mission planning. “And when it does trigger, I hear you guys? Is that normal?”

“You will hear us, and others, yes. Providing direction and guidance, showing you how to use the powers of past bearers.” Rotenga says. “Those powers are only available to you when the Spark is active. At all other times, they will be beyond your reach.”

“And it’s not just abilities or powers.” Gazelle adds. “Do you know how to pick locks? Start a fire without matches or a lighter? Tie a clove hitch? Speak elvish?”

I blink at her. “Wait, are you telling me a Spark can let me do all of those things?”

“It is not just the powers of past bearers that is contained within a Spark.” Rotenga says. “It is their knowledge as well.”

“So if you really need to, the Spark can help you do all those things, because those are all things that these echoes know how to do.” Gazelle says, motioning to the others within the tavern. “Big things, little things, useful things — the knowledge and power of those that came before is at your fingertips. When it’s appropriate.”

I look down at my drink. “So I’m really not in control of… any of this. It’ll just happen when it happens, and there’s nothing that I can really do about it except trust that it’ll happen when it needs to?”

“The people that sent you to acquire the Spark did not understand its nature, nor its function or purpose.” Rotenga says. “They conceived of it as a weapon, a power to be harnessed and bent to serve their ends. It is not that — a Spark is a responsibility. It is indomitable — it cannot be bent or forced into service. It will outlive the organization that you work for, and many others to follow it.”

“And a Spark is for you to change the galaxy, to make a difference.” Gazelle adds. “Not to do it on behalf of the people you work for, or on the behalf of any other group or entity. Its use hinges entirely on what you believe, and the vision you have for the way things should be.”

“Meaning you need to figure out what you believe in. What you feel is worth defending, and what you are fighting for.” Rotenga concludes. “Your predecessors that carried the Spark can offer their opinions and perspectives, and you can incorporate that into the formation of your worldview, but in the end, you need to figure out what you believe in, and what you stand for.”

I don’t know what to say for that. On one hand, it all seems pretty straightforward and simple, even aspirational, but there seemed to be a heavy implication that I would be my own master. That I would make the decision of what I believed in and stood for, not CURSE — and my Spark would only work if I was making my own decisions about what I was fighting for.

“You know I didn’t ask for this, right?” I say after a moment. “There were like… seven or eight other people it could’ve been given to.”

“And it was given to you for a reason.” Rotenga says. “You were the person that was supposed to have it, not those other people. No matter how worthy they may have seemed on the outside, no matter how better equipped they may have seemed, they were not the people that needed to have the Spark. You were.”

“So make it worth it.” Gazelle adds at this point. “Not a lot of people get the kind of chance you’ve been given. And it’d be a shame if you didn’t make the most of it while it’s yours to make the most of.”

I look down at the drink I’ve been given. “I’ll do my best.” It’s a lot to absorb, and my big takeaway from this, at least as far as I figure right now, is that I’m going to need more time to think this all over and figure out what it means for me. “Is there anything else I should know? Anything else that either of you are willing to tell me?”

“Your friend’s cute.” Gazelle says, picking up her drink and taking a swig from it. “Would’ve loved getting my teeth in a fresh little thing like that when I was still alive.”

“Gazelle.” Rotenga says, the disapproval heavy in his tone.

The remark’s taken me off guard, and I glance at Rotenga. “Is she a cannibal or something?”

“Vampire, hon.” Gazelle says, reaching up and tapping a finger under her right eye, highlighting the color of her iris — a vivid red. “Never could pass up a pretty liddl’ drink like that. There’s just something about twinks and ladies. Their blood is always sweeter.”

“If there’s one thing I would tell you before you leave, it is that not all of us were heroes.” Rotenga mutters with a pointed look at Gazelle. “And that having a Spark does not make you a good person, nor is being a good person a requisite for possessing a Spark. None of the previous bearers were evil in the classical sense, but some of them were not exactly role models.”

“That is a subjective opinion and you know it.” Gazelle says pertly, folding one leg over the other and sipping from her drink. “A better galaxy is a better galaxy, regardless of how you get there.”

“The way we get there matters, just as much as the destination does.” Rotenga replies sharply, then looks at me. “That is all we have for you, for now. There is more we could tell you, but I think you should take time to reflect on what you have learned so far. Let it settle in your mind and ruminate on what it means to you. When you are ready for more, we will speak again.”

“Do me a favor? Say hi to that pretty guide of yours. I’ll never get to talk to her, but a girl can dream.” Gazelle says, making a shooing motion at me. All around me, the tavern starts blurring in the direction that she’s shooing in. I can feel myself slipping away as everything around me starts to swirl away, and I find myself sleepy, drowsy within a dream.

The last thing I hear is someone telling me not to let the nightmares bite, and then I’m gone.

When I wake up, I have no idea what time it is.

The sleep study lab is still dim, so it could be any time, really. It’s only when I start shuffling upright and pull out my phone that I see it’s about eight in the mornings. Beside me, Kwyn is sitting up as well, rubbing drowsily at her eyes.

“You never came back.” she yawns. “Did they keep you the whole time?”

It takes a moment for everything to filter back to me. It feels like my meeting with the Spark was something that happened a while ago, and there was a black void of sleep in the hours between now and then. “Yeah, yeah… they just kind of dismissed me, and sent me into this dreamless sleep. If it’s even to possible to sleep within a dream.” I say. “What about you? Did you stay on the train for the rest of the night?”

“No, everything got blurry and then I fell asleep.” she says, pulling off the velcro strap that’s holding our pinkies together. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened around the same time you were getting dismissed. And I just slept until I woke up, like you.”

“Sorry you couldn’t come along.” I say, turning to slide my legs off the chair. “I would’ve let you tag along if they’d allowed it. Although…” I recall Gazelle’s remarks towards the end of the encounter. “…maybe it’s better that you didn’t.”

She looks at me as she starts to sit up. “Yeah? What happened?”

I shake my head. “Just… vampires being vampires. Nothing big, just some off-color remarks.” I decide not to relay Gazelle’s regards to Kwyn. She’s already got enough to deal with, and besides, it’d be weird to tell her that there was a thirsty vampire ghost in my head wanting to say hi.

“Vampire?” she questions, easing off her bed. “What exactly happened while you were meeting with the Spark?”

“Nothing too wild, but there was… there’s a lot to process.” I say, sliding off my bed as well. “Since it’s morning, you wanna grab showers and then we can talk about it over breakfast? I think that’ll give me some time to get my thoughts together.”

“Works for me.” Kwyn says, joining me on our way to the door.

“Oh, and Kwyn?” I say as the door slides open for us. “I’m sorry about what you saw last night. About the moments—”

“It’s okay, Dare.” Kwyn says, looking at me. “Children can be cruel, often without meaning to. We make mistakes when we’re young. That’s part of growing up. That’s how we become the people we are now. You aren’t the only one that’s said and done things that that they regret.” She lowers her head. “I’m not sure I could’ve done what you did. Stand there and let someone else watch my moments of shame. You’re really brave for doing that.” With that, she brings her head up, giving me a lopsided smile. “You’re a better role model than you give yourself credit for.”

That’s humbling, but also comforting. “I’ll keep trying.” I say as the doors to the sleep study lab slide shut behind us.

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Training Room

11/21/12764 11:21am SGT

I’m in the middle of pounding the punching bag a new one when the door to the training room slides open behind me. Turning around, I see Ironfist standing in the doorway, with his personal punching bag slung over his shoulder and his gym bag hanging from the other hand.

“Oh. My apologies, I didn’t realize this room was in use.” he says, starting to turn away.

I hesitate, then say “Don’t go anywhere just yet. You got a sec to talk?”

He pauses, seeming surprised at that. “I’ve got time. Nothing but exercise planned for the next couple of hours.”

“C’mon in, then. Close the door behind you.” I say, swiping my towel off one of the rails and using it to wipe my damp face.

He steps into the room, waving the door shut behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, setting the punching bag down by the door.

“What do you know about Avvikerene?” I say, wiping down the back of my neck as I sit down on one of the benches in this training room.

He tilts his head, wandering over. “Is this apropos of anything?”

For a moment, I debate keeping it secret, but only for a moment. Ironfist might be a stick in the mud sometimes, but he’s a solid guy. I know he won’t go running his mouth all over the station if he knows something is sensitive. “Administration is planning a deployment to Avvikerene.”

“Is that so.” he says, reaching the bench and sitting down.

“Yeah.” I say, pulling my towel from around my neck. “So: what do you know about Avvikerene?”

He reaches up, scratching under his chin as he mulls the question. “Enough to know why you’re worried about it.” He gives me a sidelong look. “Is there something or someone on Avvikerene that CURSE needs to handle?”

“It goes without saying that this isn’t to leave this room, but yeah. Intelligence found a Dragine artifact on Avvikerene.” After a moment, I add: “In the wilds.”

“Ah.” That simple sound makes it clear that he understands the gravity of what’s been proposed. “And they want to send a team for it.”

“Yeah.” I say, bracing my forearms on my knees. “You know what’s in the wilds, right?”

“I’ve heard stories.” he says, lacing his fingers together. “People that wander into the wilds too far never come back.”

I huff out a breath, staring at the far wall of the training room. “I told Tenji about the risks, about the effect it would have on the people deployed to that world, but she doesn’t care. She wants that artifact and won’t take no for an answer. With the whole thing with Laughing Alice, and the Valiant looming on the horizon, she thinks that any trauma our operatives come away with will be worth it so long as we get the artifact.”

“Hmm.” Ironfist says, shifting a little on the bench. “Well, what does this artifact do?”

“That’s the kicker. They have no idea what it does.”

He runs a thumb along one of his tusks. “That’s a lot of faith that taking the risk will pay off.”

“It’s reckless and irresponsible. The Peacekeepers we send will probably come back with lasting damage. There’s a chance they may not come back at all. And all of this for something that might end up being as useful as a paperweight.”

“So this is a Peacekeeper assignment, not an operative assignment?” he asks.

“It has to be a Peacekeeper assignment.” I snort. “You send regular CURSE operatives into the wilds of Avvikerene, you might as well put together the KIA notices for their families.”

“And you are concerned about it because… one of your friends is slated for this assignment.” Ironfist guesses.

I take a deep breath before going on. “They want Kwyn and Dare to go. They want me to lead.”

I can tell Ironfist is mulling that over in the following silence. “Do either of them know about Avvikerene?” he asks at length.

“Kwyn might. I know for sure that Dare doesn’t. And on the off chance that either of them do know about it, I can guarantee you that they don’t know enough.” I say, brushing my thumbs together.

“But you do.” he deduces.

“Yeah.” I say quietly. “I know a little too much.”

He presses his lips together. “The best way to prepare them will be to tell them.”

I shake my head. “Administration gagged me. I’m not even supposed to mention the assignment to them until they’re done with their… special training. They don’t want D… they don’t want either of them distracted.”

“Hmm.” Ironfist says, tilting his head back up that like he found it distasteful. “And do we know when that training’s going to be concluded?”

I shake my head again.

“That makes it rather difficult to prepare them for it, then.” he says. “What about you? Are you prepared?”

“No.” I say, shaking my head yet again. “But I need to go anyway. Tenji said that she will still send Dare and Kwyn even if I refuse the assignment. So I might as well go and do my best to keep them safe.”

“I do not envy your position.” he says frankly. “You have my sympathy.”

I press my lips together, weighing what I’m about to say, then look at him. “Could I have more than your sympathy? Could I have your help?”

“My help?” he says, raising his brows. “This is a first.”

“Don’t remind me.” I mutter. “I wouldn’t be asking you to come on the assignment or anything. But I do need equipment that will be able to handle Avvikerene. Wrist pistols and combat knives aren’t going to cut it out in the wilds. I need proper arcane weapons.”

“And you don’t have any contacts that could supply them to you?” Ironfist asks. “I thought wereckanan would have access to an abundance of such things.”

“They do, but they are rather tightfisted with it. Especially when it comes to those of us that mingle among the younger races. They don’t want items of wereckanan provenance floating around in societies that would likely abuse them.”

Ironfist snorts that that. “The Venusians could stand to learn a thing or two from the wereckanan, then. An absence of weapons control and regulation is part of the reason we have so many problems across the galaxy in the first place… but I digress. So you need someone to source an arcane weapon for you, one that will be effective against the threats on Avvikerene. Are you asking for my help with that?”

“I’ve heard that you’ve got connections in the Ranter community, since you came from one of the colonies.” I say. “And nobody does magic better than the Ranters. Whatever it costs you to source a weapon from one of your contacts, I’d be willing to reimburse you for it. It’s not like I spend my money on much else.”

“I do have contacts, and that’s all good and well, but I need to know what kind of weapon you’re asking for first.” he says. “Are we talking traditional weapons? Conventional weapons? Melee, ranged? What sort of arcane treatment do you want this weapon to have? There’s a lot of details I’m going to need to make this happen.”

“Shortsword. Straightblade. Double-edged. Needs a sheath, and it needs a short draw length so it can be drawn from either the hip or the shoulder.” I give that a moment to process before I add the next part of my request. “But if you could get me a starglass sword, I wouldn’t need a sheath.”

Ironfist lets out a bark of laughter. “You’ve been watching clips of Songbird, have you?” But when I don’t reply, he realizes I’m serious. “Ah. Okay, so you were sincere about that. I’m sorry, but starglass is off the table. Even if you could pay for it, my contacts wouldn’t be able to source the stellarite. The ore is never on the open market — it’s usually sold directly to prioritized buyers, typically the government or arcanology companies that create powerful or unique shield systems. Anything that’s left over is sold to entities that have entered an allocation lottery to get a chance at buying the remaining ore, and none of them are resellers.”

“Dang.” I mutter. “And there’s no existing starglass weapons floating around on the market?”

“Maybe. Most are locked up in museums, or they form the regalia of state for whatever government holds them. And private collections as well. But all of those groups would be horrified at the thought of using them for anything outside of a ceremonial capacity.”

I puff a sigh. “Damn. What’s the point of a weapon if you’re just going to hang it on a wall or keep it in a glass case? And if they’re so rare and only held by the government or the obscenely rich, how did Songbird get his hands on two of them?”

“An excellent question. One I do not have the answer to.” Ironfist says. “But since starglass is not an option, may I recommend some other materials? Specifically moonsteel, sunsteel, and nakterite. The first two exist in abundance; the third is rarer, but at least more common than stellarite.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with all three.” I say, rocking from side to side a little as I think it over. “Each one has its benefits. But for where we’re going, I’d want that sword I mentioned earlier to be made out of sunsteel, with an attunement to fire and heat. Is that doable?”

“Far more doable than the starglass request, yes.” he says. “I’ll touch base with my contacts and see if it can be arranged. If they have a shortsword that already matches your requested metrics, I’ll ask them to have it shipped; if it must be forged fresh, I’ll ask them to start on the order as quickly as possible. I’ll need you to keep me looped in on the timing of the assignment so I can relay deadlines to my contacts, and make decisions about where to ship the item in order to get it to you in time for the assignment.”

“Yeah, no problem. As soon as I know more, I’ll let you know.” I say, standing up. Even when sitting down, Ironfist is almost eye-level with me. “Thanks for helping out, Ironfist. I know you and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, but I appreciate what you’re doing here. I’m pretty sure this assignment is going to be a hot mess, so any help I can get to try and limit the damage is… I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet; I haven’t sent you the bill for the sword.” he jokes. “But in seriousness — as I said before, I don’t envy your position. It’s a dangerous thing that you’re being asked to do. If there’s any way I can help improve the assignment’s chances of success, just let me know, and I’ll see if it’s within my power to deliver.”

I smirk at that. “Not exactly an unqualified offer of help, that.”

“I have experience with overpromising in the past.” he grunts. “Unconditional help is something that I only offer to a rare few, and you are not one of those, I’m afraid. No offense.”

“None taken.” I say, draping my towel over my shoulder and grabbing my gym bag. “I’ll let you have the room now. I’ve gotten all the angst out of my system.”

“Glad to hear it. And feel free to reach out any time, Whisper.” he says, standing up as I head for the door and step back out into the hall. Waving it shut behind me, I take a bracing breath, then start walking.

A single sword isn’t going to fix all my problems, but when it comes to the matter of Avvikerene, it’ll definitely help with some of them.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Gritter’s Bar

3:07pm SGT

“You know, for someone that’s been spending every other night with his crush, you don’t look too happy about it.”

I give Kent a sidelong look. “Been nosing around again, have we?”

He shrugs, using the shoulder of his shirt to wipe away an oil smudge on his cheek. “It ain’t a crime to talk to my friends in the science department, is it?”

“If you must know, it’s strictly work-related.” I reply, sipping from my glass as we sit in our booth at Gritter’s, watching the news flash across one of the mounted screens over the bar. “Dreamwalking exercise.”

“Is that so.” he says, studying his own drink. “I didn’t know the kid could walk around in people’s dreams. You got something in your head you need sorted out?”

“Yeah, basically. And no, I can’t tell you what it is since it’s still technically classified.” I say, setting my glass down. “She’s helping me with that, although I think we’re getting to the point where I can start handling it on my own.”

“And a normal shrink couldn’t handle it? You need someone that could actually dig around in your dreams?” he says skeptically.

I shake my head. “Normal shrink wouldn’t be cut out for it, no. Plus the shrink would need security clearance. Kwyn already has that, so it kills two birds with one stone. Although she’s not qualified as a therapist, and I don’t think she’d want to be.” I give him a look. “So don’t go asking her to root around in your dreams. She’s only doing it for me as a work courtesy.”

“Hey man, don’t worry. I know you’re protective of the kid.” Kent says, holding his hands up. “Besides, I doubt she’d want to go looking around in my head. Honestly, I’m surprised you let her, with how much you like her. Weren’t you ‘fraid your subconscious would betray you?”

“Of course I was. But work was more important, so I focused on that.” I say. “What about you? What’ve you been up to while the rest of us have been busy?”

“Well, on paper, I’ve been working on a way to implement that micromissile rack into the Axiom suit. Remember that?”

I roll my eyes. “I remember telling you that I didn’t want to blow my head off by having it mounted next to my head.”

“Of course, of course. That’s what the armored rack module is for, to protect the missiles against external fire and premature detonations.” he says quickly. “I’m just… working on how to get all that on there without adding another four hundred pounds to the suit. It’s a work in progress. But in my spare time, I’ve been doing some digging into Prophet.”

That gets an exasperated look out of me. “This again, Kent? What do you have against the guy? I mean, aside from his religion and the whole zealotry thing.”

He gives me a serious look. “The zealotry thing is enough. Especially because he’s a zealot with power and influence. And I found out what he was doing when he disappeared over the summer, after the attack on Mokasha. He was helping with recruitment for the COS military, but that wasn’t everything. Rumor is that he’s been in charge of putting together a superweapon that the Confederacy can use against the Collective.”

I give him a flat look. “You know how stupid that sounds? Prophet is a religious leader, not an engineer.”

“I didn’t say he was building it himself; he’s just in charge of making sure the whole thing comes together.” Kent says, reaching over to hit the button for the privacy screen on the wall. “My sources says he’s been visiting ruins across the galaxy, looking for leftover tech from some of the old wars, the ones that happened thousands of years ago.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this superweapon going to do once it’s been built?” I ask, figuring I may as well see how far down this rabbithole goes.

“If I knew that, I would’ve just said it, wouldn’t I?” he says. “It’s all hush-hush; the Confederacy doesn’t want to tip their hand before the time is right. But losing Mokasha got them pissed, and they’re working on somethin’. And Prophet is the one they put in charge of it, prolly because the man’s got a boner for eradicating anything that doesn’t fit into the fundamentalist Anayan worldview.”

“I dunno, Kent. Sounds to me like you’re playin’ fast and loose with the facts.” I say, sipping from my glass. “All you’re giving me is a lot of smoke and no fire.”

“Hey man, I don’t make the rules. You wanna bet on it? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’ll be tellin’ you ‘told you so’ six months from now. Maybe a year.” he says, leaning back against his side of the booth and taking a swig from his stein.

I blow out a gusty breath. “Ah, man. I just can’t pass up an easy win like that. Yeah, let’s bet on it. If there’s no confirmation or sighting of this so-called superweapon in the next six months—”

“A year.” Kent interjects hastily. “Superweapons are, y’know, complicated things, right? Not the kind of project that gets a quick turnaround, y’know.”

“We’ll compromise and say nine months. If there’s no confirmation or sighting in the next nine months, then you…” I chew on my lip, thinking of what I would like. “…you have to pay for your own drinks for three months.”

Kent winces at that. “Aaarrrhhhh…”

I smirk at that groan. “Not gonna take the bet? Sounds to me like you’re not too confident in your sources.”

He glares at me. “I’ll take it. And if there is confirmation of that superweapon in the next nine months, then you…” He looks around, as if he’s searching for a good reward. “…I got it. You have to buy all of Kwyn’s drinks for three months.”

My mouth drops open. “Oh, that’s just dirty. You dog. Whaddya think you are, a matchmaker?”

He grins. “What, scared you’re gonna lose?”

“No, because that’s your job.” I say, lifting my glass across the table. “I’ll take that bet. You better save up or get sober, because it’s gonna be a rough three months for you when I win.”

His glass is raised to clink against mine. “And you’ve got nine months to figure out how you’re gonna break the news to Kwyn. Should be plenty of time to figure out what you’re going to tell her.”

“Not gonna be a problem, because I’m not gonna lose.”

“And that’ll just make my victory all the sweeter when you do.”

Intercepted Audio

CURSE HQ: Administrator’s Office

Accessed through room systems

Tenji: I’m accustomed to pushback, but this is just…

SCION: A surprisingly vehement response. Perhaps I underestimated the extent to which Whisper had been traumatized by her tenure on Avvikerene.

T: Was there anything to indicate how heavily it affected her?

SCION: There was very little of anything, actually. It was three centuries ago; patient records were sealed, as per protocol in most nations. The most I was able to extract from public record is that she had gone, and needed extensive treatment afterwards. Duration of the visit was unclear because we only have the date she was admitted to the rehabilitation center.

T: She said she was there for twenty years. Avvikerene, that is.

SCION: I imagine that would leave a lasting impression on a person, given the environment.

T: What do you think, SCION? Is it really as bad as they say? Usually I take it with a grain of salt, but Gossamer, Nazka, and Whisper all seem to be aligned on this, which is unusual, to say the least.

SCION: To whit? Yes. I have done extensive research and analysis on the planet ever since we learned there was an artifact there. Much of what has been written about the planet is anecdotal, but the Vaunted keep a registry of people that go to Avvikerene, and those that have gone missing on the planet. For the ones that go missing, the next of kin is notified if the individual has not returned or been seen in three years.

T: So they treat it as if the person is dead.

SCION: More or less.

T: Even if they may still be alive?

SCION: The stance of the Vaunted is that anyone that does not return from the wilds of Avvikerene after three years is to be considered lost. They won’t say that the individual is dead, but that they cannot be found, and even if they could, they could not be saved. So for all intents and purposes — dead, yes.

T: Do they ever mount rescue operations? The Vaunted, that is.

SCION: On Avvikerene? Never. Most people that go there are told the risks of venturing beyond the outposts. Even if you aren’t explicitly told, the warnings are plastered all over the outpost walls and gates. The Vaunted have lost too many people trying to conduct rescues on Avvikerene, to the point that they now have a no-rescue policy on that world. If you go beyond the walls, you do so knowing that no one will come for you if you get into trouble.

T: What about the locals? I understand that they make a living off of diving into the wilds. Nazka says that exports from Avvikerene account for a significant percentage of the raw materials used in arcane products across the galaxy.

SCION: The locals will venture into the wilds, conditionally. The rule of thumb is that danger rises in proportion to the distance from the outpost. There’s usually a five, maybe ten-mile radius around most of the outposts that locals would tell you they are comfortable with. Beyond that, it’s a risk even for them.

T: And do they risk it?

SCION: Some will. There are some arcane materials that fetch hefty returns, pound for pound, that can only be harvested or grown beyond the safe reach of the outposts.

T: Such as our artifact.

SCION: Well, Dragine artifacts cannot be grown or harvested, but in the sense that this artifact is deep in the wilds — yes, it will require taking on a similar level of risk.

T: Mm. Those cultists better not be lying to us about this artifact. If we end up losing Peacekeepers over a wild goose chase…

SCION: The Daughters of Azra have a good track record. Insofar as they were the ones that provided Grimes with the intelligence that he passed along to us.

T: What did we give them in exchange for the tip about the artifact again?

SCION: The same thing that Grimes wanted, actually. The assignment schedule for the Dandelion Drift.

T: That again? The ship we’ve got contracted out with the Preservers? What is the fascination there? It seems like the criminal element just can’t get enough of them.

SCION: Clearly. Not that it worked out too well for Grimes in the end.

T: They ended up killing him, didn’t they? At least that’s what I remember from the report that the Drift’s adjutant filed.

SCION: They did, apparently. In the depths of the Primsex, no less. And they seem to have gotten away with it.

T: Mmmm… see, now I feel like we should be making an effort to bring them into CURSE’s ranks, instead of using them as a trading chip for business under the table. They clearly have a lot of potential as operatives.

SCION: Indeed, although it runs up against their penchant for independence, and the Aurescuran did not feel too charitable about the fact that we slow-walked his friends’ requests for aid when he was kidnapped by Grimes. That animosity presents an obstacle to their recruitment, but perhaps the Daughters of Azra will meet the same fate as Mr. Grimes. If so, we can make a formal overture to the Drifters — extend the job offer to the entire group, not just the morphox. If I remember correctly, that was what tanked the deal last time — they were not willing to break up the group, as some of them were romantically entangled.

T: The Academy would be pissed if we headhunted some of their talent… but that’s assuming that the Drifters manage to survive whatever the Daughters of Azra have planned for them.

SCION: Correct.

T: Which they may not. Keep an eye on it for now. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough whether they’re more useful as a trading chip or as a batch of potential recruits.