Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #37: Silver Linings]

Log Date: 3/30/12765

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion, Ilyana Kemaim

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: CURSE HQ Docks

6:59pm SGT

It’s been a while since I’ve had to do something like this, and perhaps that’s why I was finding it harder than I expected.

At the moment I’m standing at the end of one of the Justice’s loading ramps, watching as long white boxes are being unloaded. Each one has a hoverframe, so they glide easily down the ramp and out onto the dock’s loading area, where they are neatly lined up in a row. It’s only when each box has been unloaded — eleven of them in total — that the honor guard steps forward, one by one, to lay the flag of their respective nations over each box.

Once each flag has been laid, the guard’s horn sergeant raises his instrument and plays the Soldier’s Elegy. It’s a short song, less than thirty seconds, but always somber and reflective. Once the last notes fade into the silence, the honor guard moves to take the coffins, and load them, one by one, into the truck that will transport them further down the dock so they can eventually be loaded onto other ships that will transport them back to their homeworlds and families. I remain silent through it all, and even after all the coffins have been moved, I remain where I am.

Beside me, Ironfist relaxes from his at-attention posture. “You may stand at ease now, Axiom.”

“I know.” I say, relaxing only marginally.

Ironfist takes his dress cap off, watching as the coffin truck trundles off down the docks. “It could have been worse. Eleven is not bad, considering Svyash, and Kasvei, and Losinadae. We could’ve easily lost more, but we didn’t.”

“Still eleven too many.” I say quietly, reaching up and taking my dress cap off, looking it over. “And it’s likely to get worse in the coming months.”

Ironfist doesn’t say anything to that. Eventually, he starts walking along the docks towards the tram terminal, and I do the same.

“I know your friend Kent has his ear to the wall in many places.” Ironfist eventually says. “Has there been any word about Songbird?”

I shake my head. “Last he heard, and last I heard, Songbird’s still missing. I think the Valiant are trying to keep it quiet, since he was their ace in the hole. Once the information becomes widespread, people are going to view them as weakened, even if they still have a decent roster.”

“Two months ago, that would’ve put the entire station in high spirits.” he says, tucking his cap into the crook of his arm. “Now it barely seems to matter, with everything that’s going on. Does your friend have any news on that front?”

“He knows what we know. Collective have established a foothold on the Losinadae Ring and they’ve launched incursions into a couple of the Confederacy’s frontier systems. There’s a suspicion that there will eventually be a larger, more targeted incursion towards one of the Confederacy’s major systems, as retaliation for Juncosa.” I say heavily, reeling off the prognosis I’d gotten in the last war briefing I’d received. “The Confederacy’s been quick to hit back. The last eight months of military ramp-up helped them prepare for this, and none of the systems that were attacked have fallen so far. There’s no sign of deescalation, and it doesn’t seem like there’s much appetite for it in the Colloquium. The Venusian Monarchy’s already pledged to support the Confederacy, and knowing the Venusians, they’ll probably go barreling headfirst into a war if it means a chance to score a few hits against the Collective.”

“A common enemy brings together those that would otherwise be squabbling with each other.” Ironfist observes as we reach the terminal. “Any news on Prophet?”

I shake my head yet again. “He hasn’t resurfaced, but SCION was able to get access to the security logs for the control complex. Songbird let him go, but threatened to kill him if they ever crossed paths again. Not that the threat holds much water now, since he’s missing.”

“He needs to be pursued, and stand trial for his actions. We cannot allow something like this to become acceptable behavior.” Ironfist says, sitting at the bench in the terminal. “I understand he is upset about Mokasha, but this was disproportionate. You do not answer the assimilation of millions with the deaths of billions.”

“I agree, but Whisper said that the Confederacy’s top brass are probably going to shield him for now. She said nothing would be achieved by giving him up to stand trial — the Collective now have their excuse to launch incursions, and the surrender of one man won’t change that, even if he is the man responsible.” I say, looking for his reaction to that.

He runs a hand over his bare head. “I do not like it, but there is truth in what she says. The Collective wouldn’t just turn around and leave if we gave them Prophet. Too much damage has been done; they will feel a need to send a message, and to try and recoup some of what they lost by taking it from Confederacy worlds. But that doesn’t mean that Prophet should be shielded, or that he should be allowed to run free. He needs to answer for what he’s done — needs to answer for this mess that all of us are about to be dragged into.”

I sit on the bench next to him. “You think we’ll get dragged into it?”

“I am very certain we will. CURSE will be asked to lend a hand in some way, whether that’s helping with evacuation and refugee operations, or in directly supporting local forces against Collective attacks.” he says, digging around in his uniform until he comes up with a little tin of gummipops, and snaps the lid open, taking one for himself before offering the in out to me. “And we are not in a position to refuse. CURSE’s reputation is beaten and battered after what happened on Kasvei. One of the fastest ways for us to earn back that credibility will be to contribute in the coming war. The administration knows that, and I can’t see a good reason for them to pass up that opportunity.”

I reach out and take one from the tin. “You think this’ll force Tenji to put her vendetta with the Valiant on hold? Bigger problems to deal with, and all that… though if we’re being honest, I never thought I’d see the day when the Valiant weren’t our biggest problem.”

“For now, yes. She’ll have to let go of her obsession and focus on the bigger picture.” Ironfist says as he crunches through his gummipop. “CURSE is in a precarious position right now, and we can’t afford to make any missteps. I trust that Gossamer will be able to get her to see that, and to set CURSE’s agenda accordingly. That being said, I still have my reservations about Tenji and the secrets she’s kept. Her past history.”

“You’re worried about the fact that she was a Challenger?” I say as I poke my gummipop into my mouth.

Ironfist shakes his head. “I am not concerned about her loyalty to CURSE. Quite the opposite; I’m worried about the lengths she will go to try and stamp out the Valiant, and whether she will drag CURSE along with her on that quest. She may be backing off on it for now, because there’s a war starting up, but obsession like that doesn’t just disappear overnight. I’m sure it’s still lurking there, hidden behind whatever facade she used to hide her identity from everyone.”

“Maybe with Songbird missing, it’ll ease up a bit?” I suggest. “As far as I could tell, most of her obsession with the Valiant was because of him. Maybe if he’s gone, she won’t be as worried about them anymore.”

“Perhaps.” Ironfist says as he finishes crunching on his gummipop. “Sometimes that does solve it. Other times, it just forces the person to retarget their obsession onto something else. I hope, for the sake of CURSE, that she finds a better way to channel the anger and resentment that motivated her vendetta.” Snapping the tin shut, he tucks it back in his uniform. “Congratulations, by the way.”

I glance to the side. “On what?”

He smiles sidelong at me. “On making it official with Little Wolf.”

I nearly choke on the fizzing shards of my gummipop, cupping my hand to my mouth as I’m overtaken with a sudden bout of coughing. “W-we’re not official! Yet! It’s— there’s been a lot going on, so—”

“Oh, stop being modest. Everybody knows, Axiom.” he says, waving off my protestations. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and we’ve all seen the way you look at her. It’s official as it’s gonna get for for Peacekeepers. From the moment that you two clobbered each other senseless at the Challenges, I knew it was just a matter of time. Saw it happen all the time growing up in orc communities. Nothing sets the tone for a relationship like starting with a good clobbering.”

“Yes, well, neither of us are orcs.”

“Just goes to show that some truths transcend the boundaries of race.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Take the compliment, Axiom. You two are still sparring regularly, right?”

“Well…”

“‘Sparring’ in bed does not count.”

“Look, I know orcs are very… physical about expressing their affection, but I’d prefer not to make a habit of pummeling my significant other. Humans tend to have… gentler ways of cultivating their relationships with their significant others.”

“I’m simply saying that there are merits in testing your companion’s strength every now and then.”

“This coming from the guy that doesn’t have a companion.”

“Right now, that is. In my youth, I was quite the stud.”

“Suuuuure.”

“It was the hair, sadly. The ladies loved my luscious, flowing locks.”

“You always say that, but I just cannot imagine you with hair.”

“And they always say that. Here, let me see if I can find a few pictures on my phone. And I don’t want to hear any remarks about what I’m wearing in those pictures — it was a different time. Bell bottoms were in the vogue back then…”

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Intelligence and Security Analytics Department

11:03pm SGT

When to the door to the room slides open, everything is dark inside, and the lights are dimmed down. I step inside anyway, knowing that even if the holoscreens aren’t on, the work is still being done silently and out of view, running on hundreds of server racks somewhere in the HQ. Modern intelligence and analytics never really stops — it just slows down during the off hours.

“C’mon out, SCION. I know you know I’m here.” I say as the door slides shut behind me.

The central holoarray shimmers to life, casting SCION’s image into the center of the room. Even if it’s just a projection, he’s still wearing that long red labcoat, with his crimson hair neatly coiffed, and his hands folded behind his back. “Whisper. Rather late in the evening to be doing research, isn’t it?”

“Figured you’d prefer to have this conversation when there weren’t others around to listen to it.” I say, hitching a hand on my hip. “The Shyl-tari relic that was used in the Losinadae weapon. Where is it?”

“Somewhere safe, of course. It has demonstrated what it is capable of in the wrong hands, so after retrieving it, we have taken the utmost precaution to store it safely.”

“Obviously. Now stop dodging the question. Where did you store it?” I demand, refusing to be thrown by his evasion.

“Unfortunately, I cannot disclose that information.” SCION replies with the mild, firm tone that indicates it isn’t up for negotiation. “Did you have any particular curiosities about the relic that I could satisfy for you? The arcanology department is still putting together a research schedule for it, so there won’t be much we can offer you in the way of information at the moment.”

“I’m not interested in whatever data you’re trying to collect on it. You need to launch that thing into Vestkong’s star.” I order. “It should’ve been destroyed back on Losinadae, and if I’d gotten my hands on it, I would’ve vented it into Losinadae’s white dwarf the first chance I got.”

SCION raises an eyebrow. “That is an interesting perspective. Not a very common one, to be clear.”

“It’s dangerous, and you need to get rid of it.” I state. “If you don’t, it will slowly corrupt everyone on this station. The only reason I haven’t addressed it before now is because I just found out a few hours ago that we recovered the damn thing and brought it back.”

“Ah. You are concerned about the Shyl-tari radiation, then. I believe the older races refer to it as ‘Conviction’, or something along those lines?” SCION says. “You may rest easy. We are aware of the side effects of Shyl-tari relics; they’ve been well documented by the institutions that have studied them before us, and we have taken the precautions required to protect the staff from the side effects.”

“Have you now?” I say, folding my arms. “Why don’t you elaborate on what those precautions are.”

“I could, but I doubt you’d be interested in the minutiae of—”

“Tell me what precautions you have in place, SCION, or the Wereckanan Alliance will be getting a tipoff about an improperly secured Shyl-tari relic.”

SCION does not change his expression, though he does not respond right away either. “I believe that action would run counter to your outlined responsibilities in your contract of employment.”

“Maybe. I don’t have the damn thing memorized, but I’ve got most of my Peacekeeper oath on hand, and acting with integrity is one of the key requirements.” I point out, refusing to back down. “Maybe everyone else in the administration is clueless, but I know what those relics can do, SCION. The wereckanan remember. For most of the galaxy’s races, it’s been more than a hundred generations since the Serenity War; for the wereckanan, it’s only been four generations. We know what those things are capable of; we know the damage they can do. I am not going to risk the safety of this station, and my friends, and my own sanity, on empty assurances. I want details about the security measures you have in place for the relic.”

His hands come out from behind his back so he can lace his fingers together, even though they’re holographic; an attempt, I think, to seem more open and trustworthy. “I don’t recall that you raised this much of a fuss when it came to the acquisition and the storage of the Dragine artifact we currently have in our possession.”

“Because the Dragine were our allies during the Serenity War, and they fought to defend the galaxy alongside us. Their protection is the reason that some systems survived the War mostly intact.” I answer tartly. “And there is an extensive body of evidence to show that while extended exposure to Dragine radiation may accelerate a creature’s natural development to a degree, it doesn’t slave a person’s mind the way that Conviction does. So yes, I’m much more concerned about the measures that are in place for the relic. A Dragine artifact won’t brainwash me; a Shyl-tari relic will. Now, are you going to share those security measures with me?”

“If I do, will you let the matter rest?” SCION asks patiently.

“If the security measures that are in place are sufficient, then I won’t go snitch to anyone about it.” I say. “So let’s have it. What are you doing to keep the relic secured?”

“Very well. We have ensured that the containment solution is close to the one where we are keeping the Dragine artifact, since we understand that Dragine radiation helps counteract the effects of Conviction. The relic has been installed in a psi suppression chamber to limit the reach of the radiation it emits, and the chamber will be receiving further modifications and upgrades over the coming months to enhance its capabilities and ensure there are additional safeguards in place. The research staff themselves have been placed on regular rotation to limit the amount of radiation they receive within a given period of time, and when working with the relic, they are required to wear psiblocker suits with built-in dosimeters that track the amount of radiation they are exposed to. Those values are logged on a monitoring sheet, and any staff member that is found approaching the safe limit is flagged so that they can be taken out of the rotation for a cooldown period, and mandatory exposure therapy adjacent to the containment chamber for the Dragine artifact. There are also regular psychological evaluations for the research teams assigned to both the relic and the artifact, the particulars of which I can enumerate for you if you would like; but which I believe you’ll find rather uninteresting, given its level of granularity on certain topics. Has this satiated your concerns about the containment of the Shyl-tari relic?”

I narrow my eyes. “For now. Know that I will be keeping an eye out for anything unusual, though. If something does crop up and you don’t correct it, I will inform someone who will correct it.”

“Of course. The arcanology department takes this very seriously, and there is round-the-clock monitoring and heavy security for both the artifact and the relic. If you notice anything that might be attributable to either object, let us know as soon as you become aware so we can look into it and remedy it, if so.” SCION says. “Is there anything else for which I can help set your mind at ease?”

“That should be all.” I say, unfolding my arms as I turn to leave. The door slides open for me, but I pause there, looking back over my shoulder. “For the record, I am not okay with researching the Shyl-tari relic. I believe it should be destroyed. If the Dragine find out we have one, they will come for it, and we will not be able to stop them from taking it.”

“If you don’t tell them about it, I don’t think that should be an issue.” SCION reasons, rather unhelpfully.

I snort at that. “I’ve got connections, but I’m not that well-connected. I don’t know any Dragine, and if I did know any Dragine, they wouldn’t tell me they were Dragine, and I probably wouldn’t know. But they are out there, and they are watching. If they connect the dots and realize that a Shyl-tari relic was used in the Losinadae weapon, they will come looking for it.”

“Noted. I will take it under advisement.” he says. “If that’s all, I will bid you a good night, Whisper.”

“Mm.” I say, unconvinced about his sincerity on that count. Knowing SCION, it’s just a formality, something he says for politeness’ sake. I step out, letting the door slide shut behind me, starting to make my way back to my quarters as I pull out my phone and begin to tap out a message.

Even if the administration thinks they’ve got it under control, I’m not going to be leaving something as dangerous as this to chance.

Intercepted Communications

??? to Peacekeeper Device via Vestkong Local Comms Relay

11:48pm SGT

Furball: theyve got it contained with plans 2 upgrade the containment over the coming months

Furball: seems solid 4 now but ill keep an eye on it

???: good

???: Let me know if anything changes for the worse. Ranu said the tribe can have a recovery team out there in a few days if anything goes sideways.

Furball: tell him 2 sit tight 4 now. ill keep u all posted if things go south

Furball: how r things looking on ur side of the galaxy

???: The Alliance has started deploying ships from the reserve fleets to the border systems. Nobody really thinks the Collective’s dumb enough to attack us, but we know better than to let our guard down, and besides, it sends a message.

Furball: better safe than sorry. Mokashans let their guard down and we all see where it got them

???: Does CURSE have any plans to get involved in the current lineup of combat theaters?

Furball: not that i know of, but shits been chaotic over here ever since the Nova thing

Furball: its just gotten worse with the Collective incursions

Furball: everytime u turn around theres another crisis

???: I don’t envy you

Furball: i dont envy me either

???: You still want to stay with CURSE, even after the Nova thing?

Furball: if i feel like a career change, ill let u know

Furball: until then, leave it alone

???: fine

???: Just don’t get how you can stand working there, now that the truth about Nova has come out.

Furball: every org has a shitty leader at the top, thats not unique to CURSE

???: yeah, but most orgs aren’t led by an ultra-powerful magical girl that faked her death for fifteen years while pulling strings from the shadows

Furball: i dont even think shes a proper magical girl, shes the fallen version, the watjamacallems

???: can’t believe you typed that word out but you can’t be bothered to put apostrophes in your contractions

Furball: dark stars or some shit like that

Furball: hy now

Furball: dont b raggin on my texting

???: You got a proper education, have you considered using it?

Furball: u can read what im typing, right

???: Yes, but it’s like rubbing sand in my eyes

Furball: look here u liddle shit

???: oh no, more sand

Furball: shut up

???: I will if you start using proper punctuation

Furball: i WiLl If YoU sTaRt UsInG pRoPeR pUnCtUaTiOn

???: Now imagine taking all that spiteful energy and using it to properly punctuate your messages

???: probably takes a quarter of the effort you just spent there.

Furball: whatever, im going 2 bed

Furball: its almost midnight over here

???: Rest well. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you don’t get any Collective assignments.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Media Office

4/1/12765 7:33am SGT

“Guys, you are killing me here.” I say as the makeup team descends on me. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you all, but I woke up thirty minutes ago. I am barely awake; I still have the taste of toothpaste on my tongue. Can we just skip on the touch-up this time around?”

“Sorry hon, that’s exactly why we need to get you touched up.” the messaging director, Rokoa, apologizes as she checks her data slate. “You’re a stud, Axiom, but everyone can tell you just rolled out of bed, even if you are in your uniform. This spot is going to be going out to the rest of the galaxy; we’re gonna have trillions of eyeballs on it. We need you at your best, no half-measures.” She turns around, shouting into the hall. “Somebody get this man a coffee, stat!” She glances back at me. “You had breakfast yet?”

I shake my head, though only a little bit, because someone’s already working on my face, applying foundation or something like that. I’ve learned that the more I remain still, the faster we can get this part over with.

“Make that coffee and a donut!” Rokoa shouts, then kneels down in front of the chair I’m sitting in. “So, this first one is going to be lengthy. We’re looking at two and a half minutes, script is going to be on the wall as usual, and we got a copy for you here so you can review it and practice your delivery and inflection.” She takes a second data slate from an aide, handing it to me. “The word of the day is ‘reassurance’. We’re thinking gentle, but firm. Strong, but calm. Like a protective big brother, or a fatherly presence. We want people to come away from these ad spots feeling like the galaxy is crazy, but its going to be okay, because CURSE is there. You follow me?”

I furrow my brow at that. “‘Fatherly’? When did I become a fatherly presence? I’m not that old. You should’ve used Ironfist if you wanted a ‘fatherly’ presence.”

Rokoa gives me a look. “You know the messaging game, Axiom. Minorities for the minority audiences; humans and elves for the general audiences. And before you ask, no: we can’t use the girls for these ad spots. Administration wanted a strong male presence for the delivery of the wartime message. Polling and demographics shows higher rates of positive response when men address security concerns.”

“Then why’d you guys drag her in here, then?” I ask, motioning out into the hall where another messaging team is briefing a nervous Kwyn. “You could’ve just called me in and left it at that.”

“Because she is going to be delivering our humanitarian messaging.” Rokoa says, giving me a chiding look. “Because, say it with me…”

“Women get higher positive response rates on soft messaging.” I sigh, lifting my slate and starting to skim over the script. “Just go easy on her, okay? This is her first time doing this kind of stuff.”

“She’ll do fine.” Rokoa says, reaching through the tangle of arms to straighten up my outfit a little. They’ve dressed me in something that does have a hint of ‘young middle-class father’ to it; it’s jeans and a collared short sleeve that’s a bit tight around the chest. I look like I just walked out of a house in the middle of suburbia: picketed fence, manicured lawn, wife and two kids, the whole nine yards. “If it makes you feel better, we’re going to have the two of you doing the closing message for this series together. Going to frame it as the two sides of the CURSE. You’ll be the paternal side: protective, strong, dependable, wise. Little Wolf will be the feminine side: soft, nurturing, caring, empathetic.”

I’m trying to stay still for the makeup team, but I can help but narrow my eyes at that. “I noticed that there’s a bit of a mismatch there. Shouldn’t it be paternal-maternal?”

“She’s too young to be maternal. Everyone can still see she’s rockin’ her twenties, and I am not going to do a girl a disservice by aging her up. Youth only comes once, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to prolong it for as long as possible.” Rokoa says, standing up scrolling through her slate. “At least that’s how it is for women. A lot of men tend to age like fine wine; you guys hit your wall a lot later than women do. Dunno why that is, but I’ve always envied it.”

I start to ask what she means by that, then decide better of it. “What’s the big deal with the paternalism? Are you calling me old or something?”

“You have the shoulders for it, big guy. And let’s be honest, Surge is too much of a pretty boy to be a fatherly presence.” Rokoa says, giving me a pat on the head. “Besides, I know plenty of people that would be happy to call you Daddy, and surprise surprise: most of them are not children, and one of them is standing in the hall out there.”

All that gets out of me is a flat look.

Rokoa smiles. “Word travels fast, sweetie, and if I’m being honest: it will make my job a tiny bit easier, because my job has been extremely difficult lately.” She swipes across to another window on her slate. “On that note, our image and brand director would appreciate it if the two of you made it official sometime in the month or so? As part of our efforts to rehabilitate CURSE’s image, we’ve been doing some research with focus groups to see what areas will get us positive returns. On the subject of shipping, it looks like you and Little Wolf are one of the most popular pairings, so the two of you would make a lot of people happy — the image and brand director among them — if we could stage a few photos of you two being cozy with each other, mmm? Which we would then of course leak — selectively — to certain publications that have reach with our younger target demographic.”

I take a deep breath, holding up a hand as an indication to the makeup crew to pause for a moment. They do so, pulling back a little, and I tangle my fingers together as I carefully pick the words I want to say. “Rokoa, I know this is your job, and you are just doing your job. And I am happy to help with a lot of the stuff that you all do here in the media office. But when it comes to my personal relationships, I would prefer that those are not treated as chips on the table. You know when I first became a Peacekeeper, and we laid down that ground rule about my family? I would like that rule to extend to my relationship with Kwyn.”

Rokoa blows out a sigh. “Really bustin’ my balls here, Axiom.”

My eyes flick down, then back up. “…you mean your ovaries?”

“Ovaries, testicles, reproductive organs, whatever.” she says, waving a hand. “I assume things are pretty serious if you’re trying to shield Little Wolf from the tabloid scrutiny, then.”

“Let’s just say that she and I are exploring things right now, and I would prefer that she be able to do that without feeling like she’s being pressured into a relationship for the sake of the cameras.” I say carefully.

Rokoa quirks her mouth, then looks to the makeup crew. “Vibe check. What do you all think?”

One of them shrugs. “Girl doesn’t seem like she wants the spotlight. She’s usually only in here when we ask her to be.”

“Yeah. Don’t think she’d be comfortable getting thrown into it.”

“Axiom’s got a point. It’s one thing to date a coworker; it’s completely another thing to have the company go ‘hey, let’s put that front and center so we can capitalize on it’. Makes it feel like your relationship doesn’t really belong to you, y’know? Like it’s just some asset for the corporation to use when it’s convenient. I’unno. If my relationship didn’t feel like it really belonged to me, I’m not sure I would want it.”

Rokoa rolls her eyes. “Romantics, the whole lot of you. Fine. We won’t push the narrative about you and Little Wolf being an item, although we do reserve the right to hint at it, or at least tease the masses by having you two next to each other in the lineup whenever we send out promo material. Also, we can’t keep the tabloids from reaching their own conclusions if you two get cozy with each other outside the HQ. Got it?”

I hold my hands up. “That’s completely fair. I’m okay with that.”

“Good. Alright, back on task. Script. Have you read over it yet?”

“Halfway there.”

“Read the rest of it while the crew finishes getting you prepped. I’m gonna pop across the hall to check on Little Wolf and let her know what to expect. I want you ready for the first take by the time I pop back over here, got it?”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be ready.”

“Good. I’ll be back in five minutes. Hey you! Yeah you! Where’s that coffee and the donut I ordered?…”

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

CURSE HQ: Axiom’s Quarters

2:33pm SGT

The door to Dare’s suite slides open not long after I ring the doorbell, and when I step in, it’s to see Dare and Kwyn sprawled out on the couch, Dare with his eyes closed, and Kwyn with her head sandwiched by pillows — one underneath her head, lying in Dare’s lap, and another on her face. Upon hearing the door slide shut behind me, Kwyn grabs the pillow off her face and looks my way. “Oh hey, Whisper. How’s it doing?”

“Damn. You two look like you got run through the wringer.” I say, making my way over. “I’m guessin’ the media office had their way with you?”

“Oh my god, Whisper, you have no idea.” Dare says, opening his eyes and rubbing his face. “They are in overdrive right now. I haven’t done that many messaging and promo videos since… since ever, they’ve never had me do that many in a single go. And they want us to come back tomorrow for more.”

I chuckle as I sit down on the arm of the couch, near Kwyn’s feet. “I never have to deal with that in covert ops. They prefer to keep this pretty face away from the masses.” Reaching down, I snag one of Kwyn’s toes and shake her foot around. “How ‘bout you, Junior? What’d you think of your first time doing ad spots for the media office?”

“I’d rather be in combat.” she groans, flopping the pillow back over her face.

I laugh at that. “Not a fan of the game. I can’t blame you, honestly; the game is pretty silly sometimes. Have you guys had lunch yet?”

“They kept bringing us snack packs and donuts and canned drinks.” Dare puffs, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “They kept us fed, but it was all junk. Never thought I’d say it but I’m craving a salad now. But like, a good salad, you know? Something that’s more than just leafy greens. Think I could go for a club salad.”

“Club salad? What’s that?” Kwyn says, taking the pillow back off her face.

“Oh, you take a lot of the stuff you’d put on a club sandwich, and you put it on a salad instead.” Dare explains. “So ham, turkey, shredded cheese, sometimes they throw a hardboiled egg in there too, drizzle it with dressing… it’s like a meaty salad. Good if you want to get in your proteins while skipping on the carbs you get from grains.”

“Oh, that does sound good…” Kwyn muses.

“Well, I’m good for a late lunch if you two want to go out and grab something.” I say, letting go of Kwyn’s toe so I can cycle around the back of the sofa, leaning down to give Dare a kiss on the forehead. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet and I’m hungry, so I’d be down for anything.”

He closes his eyes as I kiss his forehead, growing a soft little smile. “I’d be down for that. What about you, Kwyn?”

“I’ll probably get something small, but yeah, I’d be good with it.” she says, starting to sit up. “Just let me go to the bathroom first. They kept bringing me coffee and I should’ve turned them down after the first couple of cups.”

“At the very least, you can’t say they lack hospitality.” he says as she gets up. Once the bathroom door closes behind her, he looks back up at me. “So, what you been doing while we’ve been playing puppet for the media office?”

“Catching up on intelligence. Still no sign of Prophet, and the same goes for Makalu.” I answer, resting my forearms on the back of the couch on either side of his head. “I still can’t believe the two of them were working together.”

“I could imagine Makalu doing it. Prophet, not so much. Always got the feeling that he’d cut off his own hand if you gave him the choice between that and working with Masklings or the Collective.” Dare says, his eyes roaming. “Hate saying it, but Kent was right, way back when Prophet first came onboard. He said we were going to regret working with him and SCORN.”

“Yeah. Well, tell it to the administration. They’re the one that signed off on it.” I say, resting my hands on his chest since my arms are already over his shoulders.

“I just might. I’m scheduled to meet with Tenji this evening.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t expect her to take me up on the request for meeting, but the secretary pencilled me in. Kinda surprised, honestly.”

“You want to confront her over the lies?” I ask, tracing little circles on his chest.

“Yeah… sort of, but not really. I just want an explanation, just want…” he trails off, as if he’s searching for the words. “…I dunno. Maybe I’m looking for something, looking for… who she really is. Maybe I just want to know if it was all an act, if she was just pretending to be someone, and the Administrator is a completely different person from how she’s acted for all these years. I dunno; I haven’t spoken to her since Kasvei. I just want to know, so I know what I’m dealing with, who I’m working for, y’know?”

“Well, you don’t work for the Administrator. You work for the people, remember? That’s who we serve.” I remind him. “We’re a security org, not a for-profit corporation. We don’t answer to stakeholders or stock markets. We’re supposed to serve and advocate for the galactic public.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” he sighs. “It’s easy to lose track of that, with all the politics and maneuvering. I can see how people get so caught up in playing the game that they lose sight of what they’re really there for. What they’re supposed to be there for.” He reaches up, cupping one of his hands over mine. “I was gonna offer you a date tonight, but maybe it’d be better for you and Kwyn to go on a date instead, since I’m going to be meeting with Tenji.”

“We can go out on a different day. I’ll take Kwyn to dinner tonight while you’re meeting with Tenji.” I say, brushing my free hand over his cheek. “How about you meet us at Gritter’s afterwards for drinks with Kent? It’s been a while since we’ve all done that together. Might be a while before we can do it again, with the direction the galaxy’s heading in.”

“Honestly? Drinks at Gritter’s sounds like the best way to come off a meeting with Tenji.” he admits. “No matter how it turns out, I can just drink it away afterwards.”

“That’s the spirit.” I say, booping him on the nose as Kwyn comes out of the bathroom. “Hey Junior, why don’t I take you out to dinner tonight while Dare’s meeting with the Administrator? We can rendezvous at Gritter’s afterwards to have drinks with him and Kent.”

Kwyn finishes drying her hands as she returns, looking to Dare. “Is that okay with you, Dare?”

Dare scoffs. “You don’t have to ask my permission for that, Kwyn.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I like to.” she says, clambering onto the couch and giving him a kiss. “So. Do I have permission?”

He gives a good-natured roll of his eyes. “You have my permission, ya little gremlin.”

She grins, planting her hands on his shoulder so she can push herself up to me. “Looks like we have a date tonight.”

I smirk, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Be a good girl and I’ll get you dessert too.” I tease, pulling her into a kiss.

“Get a dessert for me too. I’m gonna need it after that meeting with Tenji.” Dare adds from below.

I break off the kiss, scoffing down at him. “What, the view from down there isn’t sweet enough for you?”

“View from down here, I’m seeing a lot of tickle spots…”

“Ah! Dare! Nonono, please don’t—”

“Do it Dare, I’ll hold her still!”

“Oh, you liddl’ shit, you ain’t half as innocent as everyone thinks you are—!”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Administrator Tenji’s Office

7:49pm SGT

Stepping into the office doesn’t feel too different from stepping into a dragon’s den. 

Before now, my respect for Tenji had largely revolved around the fact that she was the boss, the head of CURSE, and the person that could make decisions about my job, and whether I’d remain employed. It was a respect for the authority she held, because I’d never seen her demonstrate combat capability. It had been implied that she had a background in field operations, but since I’d never seen what she was capable of myself, that had never really factored into my perception of her.

After Kasvei, however, it was very clear that Tenji had the raw power and combat prowess to back up the authority she wielded.

Tenji herself is sitting behind her desk, which is littered with reports and a preponderance of messages and video files. The same goes for the windows behind her; normally you’d be able to gaze through them and have a grand view of the rest of the HQ’s crescent sprawling out below her office, but there’s so many different files displayed on the glass that you can barely see through the windows. Upon seeing me, though, she lets out a sigh and makes a waving motion. The door slides shut behind me, and the clutter on her desk starts to disappear as she makes a flicking motion, all the files starting to slide off the edge of the touchglass.

“You know, when I first met Songbird in high school, he was like a quiet version of what Prophet is right now?” she says, flicking at the windows behind her. The files plastering the glass start to tuck themselves away, the view of the HQ slowly becoming more visible. “Fundamentalist bullshit, black and white vision of the world.”

I cautiously approach her desk. “He was Anayan?”

“He was. Not the preachy kind, like Prophet is now. Just the sort that’s been taught those things since birth, so when you present them with something that doesn’t match their worldview, doesn’t fit neatly into it, it just confuses them.” Tenji says, organizing what few physical objects she has on her desk. “It blew his mind when he found out I was bisexual. I think his church had taught him that anyone that wasn’t straight, anyone that dated outside their race — they were promiscuous, misguided wrecks of people that were confused and didn’t have their life together and would take you down with them because we were out doing the devil’s work. And I just… wasn’t that. I was nice to him. More than some other people were. Mind you, he was a weak little noodle when we were teenagers. Point is, that blew his mind, and it started to change how he looked at the galaxy. Started to change the things he believed in.” She stops fidgeting with her desk toys for a moment. “Back then, I thought I made a difference. Changed him for the better.”

I’m not sure where this is going. It definitely isn’t the way I expected this meeting to go, and I’m not sure what to do with this information. “Do you… regret it?”

“No.” she says, her gaze pinned somewhere distant and off to the side. She’s stopped bothering with wearing glasses, and I can’t help wondering if she actually needed them in the first place, or if they were just props. Part of the costume. “I just wonder if there was any point in trying to change him in the first place. I changed him; I did. I succeeded in making him a more tolerant, open-minded person. Yet we still ended up on the opposite sides, fighting each other anyway.” She goes quiet for a moment, as if lost in her thoughts. “Maybe I did this to myself. Maybe if I hadn’t been nice to him, maybe if I had just let him keep being a sheltered Anayan kid with a black and white worldview, he wouldn’t have turned into the thing he became.”

I don’t know what to make of this, but I do know I don’t agree with it. “Being mean to him, ostracizing him, wouldn’t have made things any better, Tenji. He probably would’ve just become a different version of Prophet, and we saw what Prophet was capable of. I don’t like Songbird; I don’t agree with him, and honestly, he scares me with how powerful he is. But if there’s one thing I can say about him, it’s that he knows genocide is wrong, and he was willing to set aside differences to try and prevent it. If that’s because of you, then you made the right choice all those years ago. I would rather have Songbird and Prophet, than have to deal with two slightly different versions of Prophet.”

She tugs absentmindedly at her tie, loosening the knot so her collar has some breathing room, as if she was itching to be out of the buttoned-up clothes that she’d spent years wearing. “Maybe if I hadn’t helped him change what he believed in, he wouldn’t have become that powerful. Maybe he would’ve just kept a narrow mind; maybe that would’ve limited the things he was willing to try, and the things he learned as a result of that openmindedness. Maybe I created this problem.”

I can feel my patience wearing a little thin. “With respect, Administrator, you did create this problem, but not by being kind to a nerdy little Anayan kid thirty years ago. Why did you lie about who you were for so long? Why didn't you let the rest of the galaxy know that you survived when they thought that Songbird had killed you?”

That seems to pull Tenji out of her distant ruminations, and she finally looks towards me. “I didn’t want to. I wanted to come back, to prove that I was strong, that Songbird couldn’t put me down. But they told me that I needed to stay dead. That the only way for CURSE to win was to win in the court of public opinion, because we would never be able to defeat the Challengers in battle.” She looks away again, fingers tapping over the arm of her chair. “So Nova… stayed dead.”

“Who told you that? That Nova needed to stay dead?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

“Gossamer and Oruna. Gossamer had defected to CURSE by that point, and Oruna was the Administrator of CURSE before me.” Tenji says, swiveling her chair to look out the windows behind her desk. “After the Songbird Incident, CURSE got their hands on the recordings, and Nazka had come up with a plan to capitalize on my death. Oruna didn’t want to ruin Nazka’s strategy by revealing that I’d survived, and Gossamer argued that this could be a chance for me to start fresh. So I stayed dead… and Tenji was recruited into CURSE as a visionary that quickly rose through the ranks and eventually replaced Oruna after she was assassinated.”

“So you built all of this on a lie?” I demand.

Tenji looks back at me. “You think I like this, Dare? You think I want to sit up here and push papers and attend tea parties with politicians that have never seen a day of combat? I used to topple regimes and throw down with Leviathans. I could move the masses; I had billions of fans. Nova had billions of fans, people that adored me and looked up to me. I had product lines; I had sponsorships; I had social clout; cultural influence; I had it all. I had everything.” As she speaks, I can hear her tone growing more heated, more resentful, more aggrieved. “And I could’ve had it all back. All I need to do was go public, to reveal that Songbird hadn’t managed to kill me, and I could’ve had it all back, and more. The comeback probably would’ve made me even more popular than I was before; it would’ve pushed my star even higher in the sky. Maybe it would’ve been enough to take the fight directly to the Challengers, and maybe even win, despite everything they had at their disposal. But no.” She slowly sinks back into her chair, staring at her dark reflection in the windows behind her desk as her voice comes down again, growing softer. “Gossamer wanted me to play it safe. Oruna needed a martyr for the masses. ‘Your death will mean more than your survival’ is what they told me.” Her head tilts down a little. “So Nova stayed dead. I gave it all up. Because that was the right thing to do, they told me.”

That leaves me silenced, because I hadn’t stopped to consider that. To think of everything that Tenji would’ve given up by staying dead. Obviously it was a lot, and in retrospect, it made sense. Nova was the most popular Challenger in the fading days of the program; even when public opinion of the Challengers was dropping, public sentiment of Nova only continued to rise. She probably did have everything, and could’ve have even more if she’d made a miraculous comeback after the Songbird Incident.

“Is that why you’ve tried so hard to put a stop to Songbird and the Valiant?” I ask carefully. “Is this why you’ve pushed CURSE so hard to stamp them out?”

“I gave up everything for the galactic order that was established after the fall of the Challengers, Dare.” Tenji says, glaring at me. “I wasn’t just going to sit back and watch them tear it all down. Everything I gave up, all those years of living another identity, pretending to be someone else, keeping my powers hidden, just for the Valiant to show up and ruin everything? To make my sacrifices and my work pointless? No. I wasn’t just going to sit back and let them do that. Everything I gave up, everything I lost, it had to be for something. Otherwise, I gave it all up for nothing.”

It starting to make sense; honestly, more sense than I want it to make. Simple decisions that had compounded over years into a situation where the only logical thing to do was to maintain the status quo that CURSE had fought so hard to establish. So much had been sunk into it, so much had been given up for it, that to do anything else was inconceivable because it would invalidate all the sacrifices that had been made for it. “So why did you… why did you blow your cover on Kasvei?” I ask, looking for that final piece of the puzzle.

She presses her lips together, shaking her head. “…because we were losing, Dare. CURSE was losing. Every time I sent you all out to fight the Valiant, you all were losing. Sometimes they were small losses; other times, you were getting your asses handed to you; but you always lost. At the back of my head, way deep down… I think I knew. When Songbird first resurfaced, I think I realized on that day that I’d eventually have to fight him again. But I was hoping that something had changed; maybe he had gotten weak, or the next generation of Peacekeepers would be stronger than him. So we sent you on those assignments, hoping that you all would be able to handle him.” She licks her lips. “And after Onslaught died, it…”

She trails off. I don’t say anything, because I don’t have anything to say; I could tell the Library was the turning point in Tenji’s mind.

“After we got the news back, that Onslaught had died, I realized I couldn’t avoid the truth anymore.” she goes on. “I could keep on throwing you guys at Songbird and the Valiant all day, and it wouldn’t achieve anything, except getting some of you killed. I wasn’t okay with that, because it felt like those deaths would be pointless. But CURSE couldn’t just back off and let the Valiant run rampant through the galaxy. So I headed to Kasvei, because I thought I might be able to put an end to Songbird and the Valiant myself. Even if people found out Nova was still alive, I thought it’d be worth it if we managed to deliver a crippling blow to the Valiant.” She motions a hand towards me. “And you can see how that turned out.”

I feel like I should say something to assure her, but it’s hard to come up with anything at the moment. “You tried.” I say eventually. “Nobody can blame you for trying.”

“Trying doesn’t pay the bills, and it doesn’t keep the galactic order intact.” she exhales heavily. “Point is, you know now. That’s why I did it; that’s how we got to where we are now. There’s definitely some things I would’ve done differently if I had the chance, but… they’re the sort of things that you don’t realize are mistakes until years after the fact. And by that point, you’ve just gotta live with it, even if it sucks.”

“Well… on the bright side, Songbird’s missing.” I offer after a moment. “Maybe that’s a good sign. The Valiant are definitely weakened without him.”

That prompts a wry half-smile from her. “Yeah. Problem is, he didn’t disappear until after the damage had been done. We’re only just starting to climb back out of the public relations hole that I dug us into, and that galactic order I was trying so hard to maintain is burning in a backalley dumpster right now.” She waves a hand at the windows, and the starfield beyond them. “Two planets are roasted, twenty billion Symbiotes are dead, a major war has started up with combat theaters in at least three different Confederacy systems, the Venusians are chomping at the bit to jump into the fight, and you know there’s going to be a refugee crisis looming on the horizon. There always is, with wars against the Collective.” She runs a hand through her hair, letting out a long sigh. “I miss the days when I was just a magical girl that got to beat people up and save the day.”

“Well, since everyone knows now, maybe you can get out and do that every now and then?” I suggest tentatively. “It’s not like you have anything to hide anymore.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at me and smiles. “Yeah. I suppose I can go on field assignments now, participate in combat operations. The board probably won’t like an Administrator that gets her hands dirty, but I’m Nova. What are they gonna do, tell me no?”

I smile back at her. “I’d rather have an Administrator that gets her hands dirty with the rest of us.”

“My only regret is that I couldn’t get back into it sooner.” she says, getting up and pushing her chair in. “I am sorry that I lied to you and all the others, Dare. If it helps, it wasn’t personal. I was just trying to preserve what had been built on that version of the past. A lot was sacrificed for this decade of peace that’s now coming to an end.”

I find myself wrestling with that. “I wish you hadn’t lied to us. But I also understand why you did it. It doesn’t seem like any of the choices you were given were easy ones.”

“No, they weren’t.” she says as she turns towards the windows of her office, staring out over the HQ’s crescent. “There’s something that this cafe manager told me once, and recently, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head: ‘Sometimes we lose sight of the sort of person we want to be, while in pursuit of the sort of person we’re told we should be.’” She folds her arms behind her back, head canted to one side as she studies her reflection in the glass. “Took me a while to understand what she meant by that. Honestly, I wish I could’ve figured it out sooner, but maybe it’s one of those things you only understand once you’ve made the mistake.”

It’s fairly obvious why that particular quote’s been sticking in Tenji’s head. “A warning that only makes sense in retrospect.” I concur.

She nods. “I’m going to dismiss you now, Dare. I need some time, some peace and quiet to clear my mind and gather my thoughts. If there’s any advice I’d offer you before you go, it’s to avoid making the mistakes I made. Don’t lose sight of the sort of person you want to be. And think twice about being the kind of person other people tell you to be.”

“Understood. Thank you for your time, Administrator.” I say, giving her a slight bow before turning and heading for the door, which has already started to open for me. All things considered, the meeting had actually gone much better than I’d expected it to go, and I’d gotten most of the answers I’d been looking for. Things were starting to make more sense now.

And with the galaxy the way it was, being able to make sense of things went a long way towards preserving a person’s mental health.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Gritter’s Bar

8:42pm SGT

“…and the continuing Collective incursion in the Anguliot System, fears of famine have started to rise with the expected disruption to agricultural production. Shanaurse, the most populated world in the Anguliot System, is one of the vertebrae in the backbone of the Confederacy’s agricultural supply chain, and appears to be the primary target of the Collective incursion in Anguliot. Observers are unsure on whether the Collective’s targeting of the system is intended as a strike of malice against the Confederacy, or if the Collective truly intends to assimilate Shanaurse and populate it with Symbiote communities. In either case, fighting continues in Anguliot as the COS astronavy continues to dispatch reinforcements to the system.

“In other news, a new front has opened in the war as another Collective invasion fleet arrived in the Perignum System, belonging to the Venusian Monarchy. The incursion, which was first reported less than twelve hours ago, appears to be a response to the Monarchy’s decision to deploy Venusian warships to defend the COS systems that are currently under attack. A statement released from the office of the Collective senator earlier this afternoon is in line with that assessment, indicating that ‘military involvement by other nations in the defense of the Confederacy will be considered valid grounds for expanding the war’s scope to the nations responsible for the aforementioned interference’. However, rather than scaling back their pledged commitments to the defense of the Confederacy, the Venusian Monarchy has begun mobilizing standby fleets in a sign that they intend to defend their territory and continue assisting the Confederacy with defense of their systems. Early reactions from pundits warn that this level of commitment runs the risk of triggering a cascading escalation, with other nations being pulled into the conflict as mutual defense agreements are—”

“C’mon, man, I came here to get away from that stuff! Why you got that playing on the big screens?” one of the patrons at the counter complains.

The response from the rest of the bar is overwhelming, with HQ staff and operatives alike turning to shout him down, balling up napkins and throwing them in his direction. In our booth, Whisper stands up and adds her voice to the pushback. “You don’t like it, get outta here! The rest of us wanna know what’s going on in the galaxy!”

The guy that spoke up swats at some of the balled napkins being thrown his way. “Fine, fine! Geez, figured sane people would want a break from this craziness…”

“So the Venusians are getting dragged into it now.” Kent mutters, sipping from his stein as Whisper sits back down. “How much you wanna bet the Mercurials are gonna be next?”

“The Venusians were already tangled up in it. They’ve been sending their ships to the frontline from the moment the Collective started invading Confederacy systems.” Whisper grumbles, grabbing her drink again. “Only thing that’s changed is they’re actually having to defend their own worlds now, instead of someone else’s.”

“Can they afford to do that? The Collective?” Kwyn asks quietly. The volume in the bar has returned to a low murmur; even though there are more people in here nowadays, it’s quieter than usual. Most of the screens have been set to news channels, so if there are any new developments, we don’t miss out of them. “They’ve already sent fleets to three different Confederacy systems, and now they’ve sent one to a Monarchy system. Those are major offensive operations in four different systems — that’s a huge commitment of resources, right?”

“Launching a four-system invasion is a huge undertaking, yeah. Problem is that the Collective has enough people and ships for that. Hell, they could probably double or triple the number of systems they’re invading before they start feeling the strain.” I say, using my thumb to wipe some condensation off my glass. I just got here, fielding some questions about my meeting with Tenji but mostly letting them know I needed more time to process the encounter, so this was a welcome change of topic. Sort of. “The biggest pillar of Collective strategy has always been raw numbers. They just keep sending people, bury you under bodies — their bodies, your bodies, it doesn't matter. They pile the pressure on, and if there’s a crack, they will get in and break your defense. A single Symbiote can bring down an entire planet if you’re not vigilant.”

“I dunno, that seems a little exaggerated.” Kent disagrees. “I mean, it’s technically possible, but it isn’t really realistic in the modern day and age. There’s protocols in place for this sort of stuff, containment procedures. If the planetguard does their job, then they’ll snuff out Collective colonies the moment they become aware of them. Contain the infection and burn it out before it becomes a problem.”

“That’s if they do their job.” Whisper says, sitting back on her side of the booth. “The Collective wins when people slack off and don’t do their jobs properly. Which happens more than a lot of people like to admit.”

“At least they haven’t attacked any major hub systems, right?” Kwyn points out. “It’s been, uh… Losinadae, that’s an incomplete ringworld; Anguliot, that’s a farm system; and… Mur’ka? That’s not a major system, right?”

“Manufacturing hub. Planets with a lot of metals in that system, so the Confederacy set up a lot of factories there.” Kent says over the lip of his stein. “It’s not a metropolitan center, but it’s still up there in the supply chain.”

“And then Perignum. Does anyone know anything about the Perignum System?” I conclude.

Whisper shakes her head, while Kent shrugs. “I got nothing. Never heard about it before today, so it’s probably some no-name system with a few dustball planets.” he says.

“Chikipedia says that Noira is the world with the biggest population in the Perignum System, and it’s best known as a connector system that links the interior bulk of Monarchy territory to some of the outlying Monarchy systems towards the edge of the galaxy.” Kwyn says, reading from her phone. “It’s got its own industries and stuff, but it looks like a good chunk of its economic activity comes from being a pass-through point for trade and supplies within the Monarchy.”

“That does sound pretty important.” I concede. “Attacking Perignum would cut off supply lines to the frontier worlds on that flank of the Monarchy’s territory, and it’d make them vulnerable to attack. It sounds like the first step in a bigger plan.”

“They might not be major hubs, but all of the systems that the Collective’s invaded are still important in their own way.” Whisper says, folding her arms. “Food, manufacturing, supply routes — any one of these can cripple a war effort. Just because these systems aren’t big doesn't mean they’re not important. The Collective targeted them for a reason.”

“Well, at least the Confederacy’s ready for it. They’ve been ramping up their military operations ever since they lost Mokasha last year.” Kent notes. “War manufacturing was already in full swing for them, and they’re several months deep into modernization programs. They’ll be able to put up a good fight.”

“Let’s hope the fight is good enough that we don’t have to step in.” I say, taking a swig  of my drink. “I had to oversee honor guard for the coffins that came back from our last set of assignments yesterday. I’d rather not do that again anytime soon.”

It’s a sobering remark, one that puts our booth into silence for a bit. A reminder that war isn’t just numbers and tactics; there’s a cost in lives and resources. It’s a reality that CURSE hasn’t been exposed to… yet. But for the Confederacy systems that have been invaded, it’s a reality that they’re already dealing with; a reality that’s begun to spread to Monarchy systems as well, and might continue to propagate across the galaxy if the escalation continues.

“Well. We came here to take a load off and relax, right?” Kent says, looking around at us. “We’ve got stuff to celebrate. We managed to destroy Prophet’s superweapon, and kept it from barbecuing another planet! So that’s something.”

“That was mostly the Valiant.” Kwyn says quietly. “We just handled Prophet’s zealots. The Valiant are actually the ones that disrupted the Losinadae weapon right when it was firing, and damaged the weapon enough that it couldn’t fire again.”

Kent puffs out a breath. “Okay, well… Songbird’s still missing, right? That’s gotta be worth something. We might actually be able to beat the Valiant when we run into them now!”

“Ten credits says he’ll pull a mysterious return the way Nova did.” Whisper mutters into her drink.

“Good golly damn, y’all are just a bunch of downers tonight, aren’t you?” Kent grumbles, chewing on his thumb and then grinning. “Ah. I’ve got something we can drink to. Congratulations to the three of you… on being in a committed threesome.”

I inhale some of my drink and immediately start hacking and wheezing, bracing myself on the table as Whisper and Kwyn do the same. “Don’t… call it that!” I cough.

“Phrasing, Kent! God, of all the ways to put it…” Whisper rasps, thumping her chest.

“There’s gotta be a better word for that.” Kwyn mumbles, trying to hide her reddened face behind her glass.

“Well, what else am I suppose to call it? We don’t really have a word for that in galactic common, do we?”

“There are plenty of words for that.”

“Okay then, name one.”

“Trio, for one.”

“Boring.”

“Shut up. You could also call it a triad.”

“Isn’t that what some criminal organizations are called?”

“How about calling it a trinity?”

“I’m pretty sure that religious connotations.”

“Well, we just gave you three alternatives, and all of them are better than calling it a threesome!”

“Well, invite me, and it doesn’t have to be a threesome anymore, it can be a foursoOW okay okay okay I was joking, I was joking!”

“Look at that, he folds like a wet paper bag. Foursome, my ass. He wouldn’t be able to handle any of us in bed.”

“Agreed.”

“I can drink to that. Toast, anyone?”

“Aye, I’ll toast to that.”

“Me too.”

“Y’all are just the worst sometimes…”