In a small shack in the Mahdist village, a soft-faced, indigo-haired elf turned in bed.
A voice, distant at first but growing in fidelity as she awakened.
“Nipote. Nipote. I see turning you there. Wakey-wakey.”
She groggily opened an eye to find a blue-haired elf poking and shaking her gently.
A young-looking lady in a fancy tasseled bra top with an open midriff, twin-tailed hair–
“Nipote, welcome back. Are you ready to talk now?”
Elena sat up, looked at Conny in the eyes, and then darted back in bed, startled.
“Stop it!” Conny said, lifting her arms in front of her in defense. “No more rocks!”
Seeing Conny pathetically waving her arms as if it would stop any summoned rocks from striking her, Elena calmed herself down. She sat back and slid down against the wall, ending up on the mattress like a discarded doll. Her sleep, this time around, had been dreamless.
No more hallways or entities pretending to be her dead loved ones.
However she was still reeling from what she had experienced. It was not just a dream world. She had some inkling that psionic powers were dangerous. She knew that it was possible to lose her mind, however briefly, into a dream or vision that felt entirely real to her.
She knew also that real pain could result from such excursions of the mind.
Norn’s echo in her memories had done as much to her.
Elena was not prepared for the sheer scope of it. Those endless, surreal green hallways and the monster that stalked her within them. Did anyone know that such a thing could happen? How many people had fallen prey to it? She couldn’t make heads nor tails of it all.
However–
There were real problems to deal with– she had to put it out of her mind for now.
“Elena, I really want to make peace! I’m truly sorry that everything was so abrupt, but once I discovered your psionics and that Norn the Praetorian had tampered with them, I felt that I had to do something! What if you were being coerced in some way?” Conny said.
“You almost damaged my mind! I was so distressed!” Elena replied.
Conny averted her gaze as if she was beginning to feel shame.
“Losing some figment of Norn the Praetorian could have only been good for you!”
“And you get to decide that for me?”
“Yes! I know better than you! And I felt responsible for a family member’s well-being!”
“I’m an adult! I don’t need you acting like you’re my guardian! You don’t know me at all!”
Conny sighed and raised a hand to her face.
For a moment she stopped talking and looked from between her fingers into the distance.
It took almost a minute for her to turn back to Elena with her shoulders heavy.
“You’re right. I was impulsive. But I was trying to protect you.” Conny said.
“Hmph. I won’t suddenly believe and trust you for the barest amount of contrition.”
Conny crossed her arms in front of herself. “Time out!”
“Time out?!” Elena shouted.
“It’s– it’s been a long time since I had to deal with family affairs. I’m really sorry. I am afraid that I messed things up. Can we just slow down– I don’t want to make another mistake.”
Now it was Elena’s turn to sigh.
She was suddenly reminded of stupid teenaged arguments with Gertrude and Sawyer.
Two block-headed people shouting past each other. One unable or unwilling to apologize and the other unable or unwilling to accept it if it happened. Neither knowing how to resolve the issue or what to do to make it up, or too stubborn to accept it. Until one or the other or both calmed down finally, and took stock, and decided to reach out and return to the status quo. Those were always the most painful nights of her teenaged years.
Elena was often the most diplomatic one.
No matter how mad she was, she hated being on bad terms with anybody.
She had never wanted to fight anyone or to hurt anyone, but things just turned out wrong.
Her current situation with Gertrude was remarkably bad on this front.
And she felt that she would rather not also have Conny hanging over her head as well.
Especially given the potential of learning about her family– of having a family at all.
“Aunt Conny–” Elena began, with a serious tone–
Conny’s face lit up with a childish smile and she interrupted. “You called me aunt?”
She did not acknowledge the interruption.
In her mind, there was a speech taking form that she wanted to deliver as best she could.
“Aunt Conny. I am Elena Lettiere. I am the daughter of Leda Lettiere and Konstantin von Fueller. Just as you suspected. That must then make us family.” Elena said. “I admit that part of myself– but I am trying to leave behind the idea that I am a princess with power over other people. I am trying to just be a person like anyone, among my peers.” She kept from her aunt the idea that she was proletarianizing, not knowing how it might go over. She explained the essence of things regardless. “I don’t want anyone to protect me. I don’t want anyone to decide things for me. I want to be my own person and make my own decisions.”
For the first time, Conny finally appeared genuinely contrite.
The angle of her sharp ears lowered significantly, and she had a downturned expression.
“Elena. I am so sorry. I made such a grave mistake with your mother. I’m truly sorry.”
Seeing the face of her niece– did it remind her of that mistake?
Had it been recalling her painful past since the moment she first saw Elena in the village?
“I don’t think you made a mistake.” Elena said.
She fixed Conny with a gaze that made Conny blink with confusion.
Her heart filled with compassion.
“When you– connected with me.” Elena said, referring to her baptism because she was not entirely certain about the terminology. “I saw memories of you and mom. I have some of my own memories of my mom– and I know what you have told me of her too. I think– if I had been in my mother’s place– I might have made her choice too. I feel that it is a choice that she made. She was not afraid to die. So I think– she must have wanted to be close to power.”
“You’re trying to say that it was not wrong for me to have let her carry on.” Conny said.
“Yes. I’m sorry if its presumptuous of me to talk about those events. I was very young for all of that and I have poor recollections of my mother, but to everyone who knew her, she was a titanic figure.” Elena said. “I can’t imagine that what she wanted from you was someone to coddle her and hide her away from danger. She seemed too independent for that.”
And it mirrored Elena’s own experiences with overprotective figures.
“I think what she wanted was a confidant, a supporter– a sister.” Elena said, smiling a bit.
“It is quite presumptuous of you.” Conny said, her face still a touch melancholy. Her ears slowly began to raise again, however. “But I appreciate that you’re trying to comfort me.”
She reached out a hand to Elena. Inviting her– to show affection as family.
Elena reached her own in response and held the tips of Conny’s fingers.
“I’m still upset with you. But– being my mother’s daughter means being your niece.”
“You’re more mature than I gave you credit for. I wish I’d been there to see you grow.”
The two of them looked each other in the eyes. Their ears wiggled slightly.
She felt safe with Conny, despite what had happened.
“I haven’t felt what it’s like to have family for a long time myself.” Elena said.
“It’s complicated, and we make mistakes. Especially us elves– o dio.” Conny said.
For a moment the two of them shared a small laugh. Conny sat beside Elena on the bed.
“Conny, I want to learn more about my family. But I also have– my own affairs that I need to look after. I have made commitments I won’t abandon.” Elena said, careful of her words.
“I understand. Will you let me meet your crew? I promise to be discrete.” Conny said.
She put on a mischievous smile that made her look so girlish and young.
Elena wondered if she herself looked that girlish when she smiled.
“I’ll talk to the captain.” Elena said. “Maybe you can escort me back to Stockheim.”
“Absolutely! And I’ll thank this captain with all of my heart for protecting my niece.”
So unused to being referred to in such a coddling fashion, Elena could not help but laugh.
“…Elves sure can be boisterous.” Ulyana sighed,
walking through the Brigand’s deployment chute out to Stockheim’s landing, running a hand over her shoulder and squeezing. She winced– her back and her shoulders were hurting from all the sitting down she had done throughout the day and then all the sitting down she did at night. She was tense and tight all over. Her knees were starting to throb. Hunching over her notes at the United Front, standing up and sitting down, yelling her lungs out. There had been too much tension and stress and not enough keeping limber in her life lately.
“At least Aaliyah will keep that Conny entertained while I do this.” She said.
Elena had somehow met her long-lost maternal aunt while on a trek to the Wohnbezirk that Ulyana had not authorized but, once it happened, she felt should have been harmless. She would have to talk to Chloe Kuri about her little “side hustles” someday– but what was done was done. Now the loudest elf Ulyana had ever met in her life thanked them profusely for saving her niece. She offered to buy them pizza, to give them money, and to hook them up with connections from her NGO work. She seemed to have heard a quite massaged version of their story and Ulyana did not want to contradict it in front of Elena.
Especially since the girl looked like she wanted to be buried throughout the conversation.
Ulyana could tell that Aaliyah was initially furious– but she seemed to soften up eventually.
Particularly when Conny promised to sign an NDA and heaped them with promises of aid.
Ulyana was glad to be out of the Brigand for now.
But she was taking a jaunt through Stockheim for business, not pleasure.
Since arriving at Aachen, the Volksarmee had contact with sympathetic dockworkers in Stockheim who helped them out from time to time. The dockworkers had factions among themselves just as the station itself did– Gloria Innocence Luxembourg had discrete connections with the labor union brass in Stockheim, but among the rank and file, the Volksarmee had met smaller cliques of more radical dockworkers who argued for worker self-management rather than just wage negotiations and health plans.
These people helped the Volksarmee more personally.
One such group who worked out of the maintenance areas allowed them access after hours.
There were no recording devices in these locations, and they were out of the way.
This made them perfect for clandestine exchanges.
Using an unmarked pass that had been programmed to work that night, Ulyana got through a security door into a quite small, uninhabited office from which dockworkers could access the maintenance interstice between tiers of the berth structures. She dropped down a ladder into a dark, damp and cold space, the walls covered with thick bundles of wires, square glass gauges, LED indicators, and junction boxes. She had to crouch a bit to fit inside, dimly lit in green, blue and red by all of the lights dotting the walls.
There, she waited, hands on her knees.
Straining her eyes to see in the dimness the figure that she had agreed to meet with.
Checking a pocket-watch that she had borrowed from the Commissar.
Such things being more common to Nagavanshi’s favored who received niche gifts.
Ulyana waited, her ears catching every drop of condensation, every shift of her own feet.
Until she thought she finally heard a counterpart deeper in the tunnel.
Advancing through the dim distance until her figure could be distinctly read as a person.
“Allow me to assist you.”
From out of the shadows a soft, small hand reached out, the skin on the palm splitting.
Yellow bio-luminescence lit up Ulyana and the visitor’s faces.
Shed by a tumorous growth she had suddenly grown, disfiguring the palm of her hand.
An action shockingly casual and seemingly painless for this creature.
It was Enforcer III: The Gluttony, or “Gula,” which seemed to be her personal name.
In her dealings with the creatures the two names were used interchangeably.
The shorter one seemed to be preferred between her and her ‘prince’.
“I thought Avaritia would come to meet me herself.” Ulyana said.
Across stood a girl short enough she did not need to crouch in the tunnels. Her bare feet were damp and dirty from walking in the tunnels, but it did not seem to bother her. She was dressed in a lacy, fancy little dress that nevertheless showed some skin in the sides, in the shoulders, a hint of her identity as a sexual being peering out from the embellishments. Her hair fell so long behind her back it almost touched the floor. When Ulyana had first met the creature her eyes were uncovered, but she was since wearing a kind of faux-feathered white winged mask over her eyes and temples. The majority of her face remained uncovered.
Ulyana could not understand the whims of her visitor.
So well-dressed, so beautifully made up, when she could change her body at any time.
What did beautiful clothes and makeup represent to this creature?
“I can understand why anyone would relish a meeting with my fair prince, but at the same time, am I not a being whose majesty is worth admiring?” Gula put on a wild and wide smile, showing off rows of vibrating saw-teeth inside of her mouth. These were located behind the facade of human-like incisors that would show if she smiled less dramatically.
“You are indeed a looker, but Avaritia needs to keep her promises more strictly. Neither side trusts each other that much at the moment. We should be more exacting.” Ulyana said.
“Oh, we trust you plenty, hominin. You aren’t a threat to us after all.” Gula said.
Maybe not now, but sometime in the future– if it came down to it, she would become one.
Especially since this creature could not read her mind or control her.
“Have you discovered anything about the anarchists?” Ulyana asked.
“Straight to the point? How boring.” Gula’s lips closed, hiding her teeth and returning the illusion of a pretty, delicate and demure ‘princess’. “Indeed, we have met with and stood among the anarchists quite recently. Their main forces are actually located within the Aachen Massif. Numbering several hundreds. They have mastered the tunnel network and have a few means of entry and egress from the Core Station. They even restored a single ship berth in one of the extraction points in the abandoned mine, and have a vessel there, but in poor condition. It seems they had some sort of incident on the way to Aachen.”
“That’s far more sophisticated than I imagined.” Ulyana said.
“They have an impressive operation, but there are flaws. Their operational security is poor, particularly that of the Volgian man’s group. Nobody suspected us even when we refused to bring our entire forces to join the rest of them. All of them wore their intentions on their sleeves– but the group led by the Eloim woman, all of their minds are much more guarded.” Gula said. “They are all hiding something. I believe that their contingent of forces must be larger than we are led to believe. I also sensed great desperation within them.”
Ulyana had thought the anarchists used commercial transportation and fake identities and that they were simply mingling about the station with the civilians, to appear in small groups when needed. She was not well informed on the history of the Aachen Massif and did not realize what a boon it could have been to their forces. This explained why Tamar Livnat was so keen to acquire another ship from them. She must have worked hard to bring all of her forces to Aachen, maybe even devised the scheme in the tunnels ahead of time.
And now she did not have a ship with which to support all her combined forces.
“Are your senses keener than Avaritia’s?” Ulyana asked.
“I am more skilled with auras.” Gula said. “But my darling is more powerful than me in all respects. I make up for what she lacks in subtle technique, and she makes up for what I lack in force. However, I have my own ways of defending myself if necessary of course.”
She opened her mouth and shut it as if miming a bite.
“You like to talk.” Ulyana said.
“I like having a hominin audience. My kin don’t appreciate my eloquence.” Gula said.
“Well, I do appreciate it. You may regale me with anything more that you desire.”
Gula smiled widely again. “You are a very cheeky hominin. I like you.”
“Speaking of your group, how are your forces holding up? Do you need any aid?”
“I’m afraid you might not understand, but many of our forces are occupied on our ship.”
Ulyana bristled a little bit. She was a ship’s captain, they knew at least that!
“Why wouldn’t I understand? I have a crew also. I completely understand.”
“No, you see, we can’t pull anyone from their duties on our ship– because they are the ship.” Gula smiled ever wider. “We had to use significant amounts of biomass to create our ship, and it has to be ready to extract us at a moment’s notice. Separating them from the ship would be a waste of the energy it took to join them. We have only a small five-body team with us. How shall I say this– we are saving them for a rainy day? Is that still an idiom?”
Once more, Gula casually said something that made Ulyana’s guts wrench.
However, she did her best to hide her displeasure and discomfort at this disclosure.
Human crew always expressed a joy at being part of a ship– but probably not like that.
With their biological powers, a living ship only made sense.
Wandering about how its constituent persons must feel in it caused her to shudder.
“Yes, it’s still an idiom. A lot of surface-based language survived to this day.”
“I’m glad. Culture should never be lost. At worst, only recontextualized.”
“So when you take us over, will our culture be preserved?” Ulyana asked suddenly.
“Of course.” Gula said, without skipping a beat. She had thought of this– and something about that disturbed Ulyana even more than if she had kept quiet. “Once you hominin are put in your proper place, you will thrive. Free of oppressing each other for goods and services, you will be able to pursue culture in its purest forms and pleasures. Your bodies will be your art, and you will make art with your bodies. You will be like beautiful dolls who find boundless joy in your flawless performances for us Omenseers. Using our biokinesis we can sculpt you into any shape you find pleasing, and allow you to do anything that you desire, and we can even make it so you feel nothing but bliss forever. Once you become unable to practice further, rather than suffer the pain of senescence, we can turn you to biomass.”
“I– I see. Well– I’m at least glad you’ve put some thought into it.”
She was not glad at all– she was being diplomatic.
Part of her mind wondered if allying with this thing was any better than with the Volkisch.
And what had led them to host such a boundless disregard for humanity.
Or even worse– a disregard in the guise of paternalism.
“We have been engineering our ideal world for a very long time. You’ll see it someday.”
Gula bared her teeth again. Smiling so easily and without worry.
“But for now, that is all that we have to report. We will keep our eyes peeled.”
Ulyana sighed. “Let us know if you need anything.” She said.
“Nothing we feel comfortable asking hominins to do, at the present.”
Gula continued to smile as she spoke.
It was as if her voice was coming from somewhere else.
Ulyana got that feeling again– that she was in a room with something larger than this girl.
“Did you have trouble making it here?” Ulyana asked. “Do you need help getting back?”
Better to be as courteous as possible at this stage of the alliance.
“Oh no, it was incredibly easy. Ah, I know– watch this closely, hominin.”
Gula closed her lips and seemed to let her jaw settle.
She then opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and suddenly vanished.
Ulyana felt something, a force, as if she was gently shoved by something invisible.
The light that disappeared from in front of her Gula then shone from behind her.
When she turned, the found the light figure of the girl standing nonchalantly at her back.
“I am able to eat anything if I understand it well enough.” Gula said, standing behind her as if she had always been standing there. “Including, say, the concept of the distance between one part of the station and another part of the station. Of course, you can’t digest a concept, it reasserts itself quickly, but the ensuing snap does place me at my destination.”
Ulyana was speechless. Gula was far, far, more powerful than she envisioned.
“With that said– ta-ta, hominin.” Gula added. With a snap of her jaws– she was gone.
Left standing alone in the dim LED lights once more, Ulyana thought–
It was not just Gula who was powerful, but psionics was capable of far more than just throwing objects or reading people’s minds. It was capable of far more even than mind control. She wondered just how much they really knew about this power. It seemed almost like psionic powers could do nearly anything at all at the hands of these bizarre creatures. Ulyana felt like her already slim chances of defeating them had begun to slip further.
Then she caught her breath and tried to steady her spiraling emotions.
She was immune to psionics. She had come to understand from Arabella and Euphrates.
That meant no matter what they could do– the Omenseers were not omnipotent.
Because at least this “hominin” could oppose them.
And with the assistance of her own psionic allies, anything could be possible.
Ulyana climbed back out of the maintenance tunnel and left the office.
One final swipe would render her card useless and lock the office.
Mentally, she thanked the dockworkers for their continuing aid as she climbed aboard the Brigand once more. Inside the familiar, comforting steel walls, her heart eased a bit. Just as she was walking back into the hangar, she then found Aaliyah and Conny making their way to the deployment chutes. They met in the middle. Conny looked in good spirits while Aaliyah had one ear folded, the one nearest Conny, and looked a little bit bedraggled.
“Captain! I was hoping I’d see you again before the night is up!” Conny cheered.
“I’m back from a bit of business. I’m glad I got to see you on the way out.” Ulyana said.
“Isn’t all this so fun? I’m glad my niece has such reliable allies.” Conny said, gesturing to the hangar. “You will have my full confidentiality captain, I promise you, but I truly want to do something for all of you, to thank you– I want my niece to be able to be independent, and this seems like the best environment for her to get her legs under her and see the world. Let me buy you all elvish pizza– real elvish pizza and not the Imbrian junk.”
“I won’t say no to pizza.” Aaliyah said. Her voice reduced to an emotionless droning.
“We can’t have it delivered.” Ulyana said softly.
“I’ll bring it here myself.” Conny said. “That ties into my other request.”
Aaliyah folded her other ear as if in preparation. Ulyana narrowed her eyes a bit.
“Captain, let me join you all aboard. I want to observe my niece’s journey.” Conny said.
Ulyana wished she could fold her ears like Aaliyah could and ignore this.
“We’ll have to talk about it.” Ulyana said, her voice too now an emotionless droning.
Conny smiled and winked and leaned forward a little with her chest out.
“Captain, I can be soooo useful! NGO Kamma will be at your service as well!”
Despite everything, it seemed there would be another night over a desk in store for Ulyana.
Sometimes having allies could be a bit burdensome as well.
Upon Captain Korabiskaya and Commissar Bashara’s return from the United Front, Murati was relieved of her temporary command, to be restored again the next day.
She left the bridge to the late-shifters Fernanda Santapena-De La Rosa and Alexandra Geninov and departed with Aatto into the halls of the Brigand. While the days were very busy for everyone, the sailors had temporarily been relieved of night shift, as it was reasoned that if they needed them they could sound an alarm. Therefore when Murati stepped out onto the halls, though it was the early evening, there were few people around.
“Master, how did I do? Was I the image of Union gallantry?” Aatto said.
Murati thought that it was a miracle that the Commissar had not thrown her overboard.
“You’re learning fast.” Murati said, diplomatically.
She was warming up to Aatto– though hardly anyone else was, a fact that troubled her.
(Except Karuniya, whom Murati did not want to count.)
“Do you have any evening plans?” Aatto asked. Her tail wagged behind her.
Aatto was asking because she wanted to be included in them–
But it did remind Murati that she missed her wife dearly.
Both she and Karuniya had been busy since they departed Kreuzung.
They shared a room, so they always saw something of each other every day.
When they were dating in Solstice and Thassal they saw each other much less than they did now. They made a promise back then to go on a date once a week, come hell or high water, and it was an indication of how little time they had for each other that this promise mattered as much as it did to them. That was also when, though they did not necessarily call each other partners yet, they stopped seeing other people and became sexually exclusive. And yet, despite objectively being closer than ever nowadays, Murati still feared that she was, as Karu sometimes joked, a frigid and neglectful “husband” to her poor wife.
She thought they ought to at least stay up a bit late in their room and chat today.
“Private time.” Murati said simply, with a small smile borne of thinking about her wife.
“Ah! Enjoy it, master, you’ve earned your relaxation.” Aatto said, smiling pleasantly.
“Thanks, Aatto.”
“Should you require me, I will be in my quarters. Feel free to contact me at any time–”
“Thanks, Aatto. Good night.”
Murati said the second one a bit more firmly.
Aatto smiled, waved, wiggled her ears a bit, turned and left down the hall first.
Fatima and Semyonova had been roomed together to give Aatto her own place, with the Captain and Commissar reasoning she may be a troublesome roommate. Though with Marina having boarded the John Brown, there was also talk of having her move in with Elena to free up another room in case of additional guests, and to have them learn theory together.
That particular point was a headache for another day’s Murati to deal with, however.
At first Murati headed in the opposite direction from Aatto.
She walked toward the cafeteria. She had in mind to bring her wife a coffee.
Then they could stay up a bit with a warm drink and chat.
In her mind this was all perfectly romantic. Of course, no plan survived contact with–
–well, not “the enemy” this time.
The conditions of the operation, Murati corrected herself.
Walking into the cafeteria, past the chairs and the long row tables.
“Murati! Good evening! Feeling peckish? I’ve got a couple fixin’s leftover!”
Behind the counter sat Logia Minardo in her apron, leaning forward and waving with her fingers. She had a tray with a few leftovers from the dinner service. Though she was normally very meticulous about the amount of food prepared each day, the Brigand had been testing her with the amount of guests that would come and go. Sometimes a person was sick and changed their mind about dinner at the last second too– all these things meant there was sometimes food left over. It would not go to waste, however. Either Minardo would find someone to eat it or she would eat it herself– or find a way to reuse it later.
“I’ve already sent Geninov and Santapena-De La Rosa some stuff. Want to help me out?”
Murati normally did not stick around for such things much.
She was always a pretty goal-oriented person who did not meander the ship.
But– as the Captain, she should strive to become accessible to her subordinates.
Hiding away in her room ill suited a communist, a people’s Captain!
“I have a few minutes, but no more than that.” Murati replied.
Minardo’s face lit up with a smile. “I’d love even a few minutes of your company!”
Murati first got the automatic coffee machine going. It would keep her drinks warm.
After, she joined Minardo at the counter.
On the big tray there were three discrete smaller trays with leftover meals. Each of the trays had a dish of corn chips that had been fried in a pan along with a red sauce, making them a bit soggier and yet still crisped up, and topped with cheese and beans. Minardo made the chips herself using corn flour, of which they still had plenty of from the Union– a taste of home. Murati picked up a spork and dig into a corner of chips from the tray, one with beans and cheese, a bit of everything. She lifted the morsel to her mouth and tasted.
Though the outcome had never been in doubt– it was delicious.
Savory-sweet corn chips with a slightly piquant and fruity sauce, with a distinctive hint of red sweet pepper. Creamy beans, with fatty cheese that added richness. The reheated leftovers lost only a bit of the aroma that the sauce and spices would have had when fresh out of the saucepan, and there was a pleasant variety of textures with the chips still having some body to them. Murati could not help but to be impressed by this simple yet fulfilling dish.
She also could not help but make an expression of girlish joy while eating.
Minardo looked at her fondly in return.
“I feel like you enjoy the corn dishes a lot. What do you think?” She said.
“Hmm? I do. It’s an immensely important crop. Its economic value is truly second to none.”
Minardo’s smile seemed to widen upon hearing that. Murati did not understand why.
Corn was one of the things the Union produced an incredible amount of, and it was an invaluable partner in the miracle that was the Union as a functioning state. Corn was processed into grains, sugars, alcohol, oils, and starches. Grains could be further refined– ground into corn flour, or boiled and canned for whole corn, or dried into corn snacks, that sort of thing. The true miracle was in the rest of the items. Corn starches could be used in food but had a variety of industrial purposes. Corn oil could be used for cooking or processed further into resins. “Synthetic” was a common word for clothing and other items manufactured in the A.D. era, but the Union made many daily things out of corn plastics too, preserving petroleum for its more valuable, specialized chemical purposes. Corn was used in chemical productions too, it had novel enzymatic reactions– it was so multifaceted.
Murati continued to tuck into the corn chip dish, thinking about the miracle that was corn.
She then realized the cook had been watching her space out the whole time.
“It’s fantastic, Minardo. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Murati said.
“Of course! Kitchens are for feeding people.” Minardo said. Murati continued to eat, and she noticed Minardo looking at her while she did so, but she did not say anything. Once Murati was about halfway through the dish, eating silently and unreservedly enjoying every bite, Minardo finally spoke up again. “You know, it is true what they say about you, Murati.”
“Hmm? What are they saying? And who is saying it?”
“You have a certain intensity about you. You don’t even seem to realize it. You might even fade into the background without that spark of yours. But even when you’re just standing in front of me eating chilaquiles after saying one sentence to me about their economic value– I can’t help but be charmed, girl. You capture the eye without even meaning to.”
Murati frowned a bit. “I feel like people are just making fun of me when they say that.”
“They’re really not! It’s just different, but it attracts people to you. You have gravity.”
“It attracts sailor girls to gossip about me.”
“That too. But that’s because your intensity makes you so electric!”
That was a lot of adjectives being slung around that made Murati feel embarrassed.
“Thanks, Minardo.” Murati said, hoping to change the subject, her eyes wandering.
She took a peek at the third tray, which neither she nor Minardo had touched.
“You want to take it?” Minardo said. “Go right ahead. You don’t eat enough anyway.”
“I eat as much as I need.” Murati said in protest. “But yes, I’d like to take the third one.”
Minardo beamed at Murati as she wrapped the third tray in a bit of plastic wrap.
“She’s such a lucky gal. You’re both really cute together. Hurry up; don’t make her wait.”
Were her intentions that easy to read? Or was Minardo just that experienced?
Murati thanked her again, sheepishly took her tray and her small coffees, and left the scene.
She felt self-conscious about being told about her “intensity”– she wondered if maybe other people were as odd about their feelings toward her as Aatto was. Once framed in that particular way, the thought of a whole ship full of Aatto and Aatto-adjacent gazes made her quiver with terror, but she also laughed a bit to herself at the absurdity of it all. Eventually it was completely out of her mind. Regardless of what anyone saw in her, she was only going to be herself and she wouldn’t even know how to change if she wanted to do so.
She tried to imagine this gravity of hers in terms of her goals. Murati supposed being found attractive was a useful asset to a ship’s captain. After all, she found Ulyana Korabiskaya very attractive. It inspired her to follow in her footsteps. To sit more upright, to speak more precisely, to memorize everyone’s names on the bridge. To wear her own uniform more sharply, comb her hair more often. She hoped to inspire the same in the future.
In the present– she had an appointment with a certain ‘lucky gal’.
Without stopping at the door or saying anything, Murati walked into her own room.
At the pull-out desk on the wall, she found her wife, swiping at a little portable computer.
When the door opened, she looked over her shoulder.
“Welcome home!” Karuniya exclaimed with a smile.
Indeed– Murati was home– Karuniya was her home.
Murati smiled quietly and presented Karuniya with the coffee and the food.
“Oh! What’s this? Such a thoughtful hubby– perhaps trying to bribe me?”
She put on a mock skeptical face and stared at Murati for a moment, rubbing her chin.
“Maybe.” Murati replied.
Karuniya laughed. “Come on.” She made space on the table for the dish and the sporks.
Every time she saw her, Karuniya was the most beautiful woman on the planet. However, there was something extra charming about her that night. She looked like she had come in from the shower. Her hair had dried a bit, but still fell messily down her back and had a moist sheen. Dressed in only the plastic robes they were issued for bathing use, whenever she turned around she flashed a bit of her gorgeous skin and the contours of her belly, her hips, her breasts. However she was not self conscious at all, and never guarded herself.
For a moment, Murati forgot about the food and the coffees and stood behind Karuniya.
At first she just laid her hands on Karuniya’s shoulders.
Then her fingers worked their way between the halves of the robe, pulling it farther apart. Bare skin on bare skin; Murati rubbed her wife’s shoulders, and gently worked them between her fingers. Karuniya realized what she was doing. Murati could feel her relaxing in her grip. There was nothing like the immediate response of a body to touch– it was so satisfying.
“How was your day?” Murati asked, whispering near her face.
“I grew mushrooms~” Karuniya replied.
She waved her hand. Her voice had a strangely dismissive affectation to it.
Murati circled with her thumbs, enjoying the pliability of her wife’s soft, round shoulders.
“Are you still sore about the mushroom lady stuff?” Murati said.
“Yes~ I will resent it~ until the end of the time~” Karuniya said in a song-like voice.
Despite her spoken complaints, Karuniya looked rather delighted. She even made a short murring noise when Murati applied a bit more pressure in the middle of her shoulders and settled back into her chair when she eased on her. Sensing an opportunity, Murati leaned forward. She tipped her head and kissed Karuniya in the neck, close to her jaw, nuzzling her. She could feel Karu start to melt into her, heartbeat beginning to quicken.
“You’re so clumsy about everything else, but you’re fantastic at reading me.” Karuniya said.
“I’ve had been blessed with many opportunities to practice.” Murati replied.
Karu leaned back in her chair and stared up. Murati leaned forward to enter her sight.
For a moment it felt like, to a third party, this must have looked quite intense.
But to the two of them–
“Craning my neck this far is not comfortable.” Karuniya said.
“It’s a little awkward, yes.”
Both of them laughed.
Murati let go of Karuniya, eliciting a little ‘aww’ from her wife.
She reached for and raised one of the pull-up seats from the floor and sat beside Karuniya.
“Try it, it’s really good.” Murati said, pointing with one spork at the chilaquiles.
Karuniya took her own spork, pulled away the plastic wrap from the tray, and took a bite.
Her eyes shut and the corners of her mouth rose steadily as she tasted the dish.
“Minardo’s devilry at work again! How can I ever settle for another cook?!” Karuniya said.
Murati laughed. Together, they prodded the dish, catching glances of each other’s eyes, between bites, and talked around the table. Karuniya gradually talked more about her own day. She had been processing biological samples from the Omenseers and collecting data all day, and she would have to comb over everything and create plans for each sample tomorrow. She had ideas for what kind of tests she wanted to run on the samples, but she had to make sure everything she was trying to do was safe and viable.
“I’m not a little kid mixing colored oils and different fluids just to see the different colors stacking in a beaker. Though– I kinda feel like that little kid experimenting here.”
A water density experiment– every Union kid did science-y stuff like that in school.
Though, Murati had never really associated Karuniya with test tubes and centrifuges.
She had a limited knowledge of what the practice of oceanography entailed.
For a moment she felt self conscious about not knowing her wife’s work very well–
But Karuniya seemed to realize her head was being occupied and reached her arm out.
Taking Murati’s shoulder and pulling her in close, laughing gently.
An effective way to dispel Murati’s little doubts about their relationship.
“Are you excited?” Murati asked.
“This could be ground-breaking stuff, or it could be nothing.” Karuniya said. “There’s always the chance I won’t be adequate to the task. I even talked to Euphrates, and she never experimented with Omenseer tissue. Or maybe she just said that to avoid getting involved.”
“Both are equally possible. But don’t hold it against her.” Murati said.
“Oh, I won’t. I’m excited to be a pioneer in Omenseer-‘Hominin’ relations.”
“I think you’re incredibly qualified Karu. I don’t know anyone else our age working on multiple degrees. Even if you don’t know something now, you will make the effort to learn, and you’ll develop a process. You’re amazingly driven when something catches your eye.”
“Yeah– like when I was amazingly driven to jump on your dick, and I went and did it.”
Murati cracked up at the sudden bawdy joke. “Karu– I’m being serious–”
Karuniya giggled in response. “I know. Thank you, Murati. It means a lot to me.”
“You’ll always have one stalwart supporter.” Murati said.
“Can I ask my most die-hard fan to hold me more? It was nice.”
“Any time.”
After finishing their meal and coffees, they relocated together to one of the beds.
Murati tossed away her half-jacket and tie, pulled off her pants. Wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt, a sports bra and undershorts, she sat with her back to the wall and Karuniya sat in front of her. She pulled down her robe to bare more of her back for Murati to admire and feel. Down the spine to the small of the back, almost to her bare rear.
Murati promptly and dutifully pressed her hands over her.
One on the shoulder, one closer to the hip.
“Not your usual massage form.” Karuniya said with a cheeky tone.
“I just want you to feel your skin for a bit. Is that okay?” Murati said.
“It’s always okay. I’m yours, completely and forever, Murati Nakara.”
Karuniya backed into her.
Murati pulled with her, bringing her closer, tighter.
Her hands just wanted to feel contours of her wife more, the pronounced curve of her hip, the soft, pliable flesh of her back, the tiny, near imperceptible bumps of her spine. The elevation caused by the shoulder blade and the gentle bend of her back. She wanted to lay her chin on Karuniya’s shoulder and feel the smoothness of her skin against her lips, to smell the scents left over on her from her time in the lab, sometimes strangely sweet, sometimes a bit plastic, but always her. She wanted to feel the quake of her heart under her flesh.
“From how you’re holding me– it feels like you had a tough day.” Karuniya said.
“I wouldn’t say it was hard.” Murati replied. “It was long. I had no time to myself.”
Karuniya reached up and stroked Murati’s hair, while Murati kissed her shoulders.
“You know what else is getting a bit long?” She said, fingers twining through strands.
Murati had not really noticed until Karuniya pointed it out.
Her hair was starting to grow past her shoulder. Normally she had it trimmed at this point.
She was not in a position to take time off just for that though.
“It’ll be fine.” She said. Maybe she would look good with long hair.
Karuniya laughed. She tipped her head to nuzzle up to Murati’s cheek.
“We should go somewhere. And not dressed up as fascists. You need proper relaxation.”
“Who would I leave the bridge to?” Murati asked, nuzzling Karuniya’s neck again.
Karuniya giggled, wriggling in Murati’s hands. “Aatto would absolutely not mind.”
“Solceanos defend.”
“Oh, I got a Solceanos oath out of you. That bad huh?”
It had happened almost automatically at the thought of Aatto commanding the bridge.
“I’ve been talking with her a bit. She really admires you. What did you do to her?”
“I held her hostage. I truly have no idea how any of this turned out this way.”
“She’s a good girl. You ought to trust her a bit. She really wants your approval.”
“I do trust her, but I don’t want to overwhelm her. Maybe I’ll ask Daphne to cover for me.”
“Whatever helps– I just think we should have some time for ourselves. Like before.”
Murati was quiet for a few minutes. Trying to shut out everything else.
Losing herself in the sense of Karuniya’s skin. As close as they could be without sex.
“Am I being neglectful?” Murati asked.
She felt Karuniya briefly tense up a bit in her grasp. Surprised, perhaps.
“Oh, Murati, absolutely not. You’re fantastic. I hope my jokes didn’t get to you.”
“No. I just recognize we’re both so busy. So I felt a bit self conscious.”
“Murati, I think when you have a better head on, you know this is a weird situation for both of us to have a relationship in. We are messing around in a possibly suicidal combat mission that Nagavanshi went out of her way to force us to go on– promptly being really nice about all our relationship papers when we agreed.” Karuniya said, nuzzling up to Murati again. “We have to tend to our duties first. But we’ve always been able to live our lives as best we can in addition to that. That’s all I ever ask from you. I cherish the good nights and the good mornings. I’m really happy. Despite everything that’s going on, I’m so happy.”
“Thank you, Karu. You’ve made me the happiest woman on Aer.” Murati said.
She could have cried from how happy she felt holding Karuniya.
It felt like everything terrible in the ocean was briefly dispelled when she held her.
There had been so much that had happened so far. So much still to do.
All the crashing of ordnance in her ears, the smell of ozone and plastic, the feeling of her breaking ribs inside her chest as she crashed into the side of her diver, the sight of agarthic orbs after the deaths of ships, the exploding red mist when a diver burst under the pressure. All of the terrors imparted onto her mind, into her hearing, carved in her eyes, the invisible weights on her shoulders– Karuniya could dispel them all with a word and with a touch.
“Besides, Murati, it’s not like it’s been that long since we did something special.”
Karuniya reached behind herself, her fingers probing across Murati’s belly–
and gripping for Murati’s bulge between her legs, and seizing on it firmly.
Murati stiffed up a bit. Not quite enough to get hard. But she felt the thrill.
Holding her hubby’s weakly stiffening shaft through the fabric, Karuniya grinned cheekily.
“I recall it’s only been like a week and a bit since you gave me the second-best dicking of my life back in Kreuzung. If we can just fuck like that every so often I’ll be singing.” She said.
“Hang on. Second-best?” Murati said, picking up and playing into her wife’s mischief.
“Oh ho, curious? My best lay was this hot upperclassman at the Academy– Murati Nakara.”
For a moment she really had her in suspense. “I must have done better since then.”
“You were absolutely feral when we started messing around, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Karuniya continued to stroke her while grinning in such an insolent fashion.
It really made Murati want to teach her a lesson. Her appetite was reaching a peak.
“You have one coming, Karuniya Maharapratham.” She said sternly.
“Oh? Coming when? Ten days from now? Mu~ra~ti~? ” Karuniya said teasingly.
Murati reached out a hand to the wall and expertly summoned some loud DJ Hard Roe.
“M-M-Murati–?” Karuniya whimpered as Murati took her down on the bed.
As always, the synths would protect her modesty.
“Here you go miss! One big beautiful rainbow swirl coffee for a beautiful girl!”
A hand reached out gingerly from inside the little coffee shop’s window.
Upon that hand was a plastic, see-through coffee cup.
A rainbow-colored swirl, creamer and sweetener all at once, spiraled through the black coffee, a neat effect soon to be disturbed by the mixing of the drink. It was a limited-time specialty advertised by the little store on a corner of Aachen’s second tier. Quite a few people were waiting in line for their own “taste of the rainbow.”
Opposite the hand holding the coffee–
stood an embarrassed-looking, salmon-pink haired person in a hooded jacket, hood down.
“Ah, thank you.” Valya said, smiling sheepishly.
They did not want to draw any attention or argue, not under these circumstances.
So they put up with it– as they had become something of a champion in doing so.
They took the coffee into their hands, parted with some polymer reichsmark notes, and left.
Torn on whether to be flattered that they made a ‘beautiful girl.’
Aer had seen the turning of another cycle in its day and night, perceptible to humans mainly via timekeeping that aligned with their ancient biological rites. Another day in the 300-day Imbrian year decreed by Emperor Nocht so long ago. Valya had woken up in the morning ready to get back to work. The Captain and Commissar had departed for the third day of the United Front deliberations. As they stopped at the cafeteria, Galina pulled them aside, handed them reichsmarks, and decreed that today, they would have to go outside.
“Everyone has had at least a little goofing off time. You’ve earned some too.”
“I’m fine– I’m okay just working–”
“I will remind Semyonova that officers cannot accumulate too much unused leisure time.”
Scolded by Galina and threatened with a future scolding by Semyonova–
Valya could only agree. They donned a hoodie over their uniform and left the ship.
They made their way through the commercial district on the first tier. Crossing the lanes of storefronts and the platforms suspending them to the walls of the enclosure, with the massive atrium and its installations flanking them at all times. They were uninterested in shopping, however and even off-peak, the crowds unnerved them. They saw a black uniform in one of the crowds and began to walk more quickly to one of the elevator banks. From the briefing, they knew the second tier had a park with real trees.
They felt warmer toward spending the day at the park instead.
So they went up to a little café in a corner of the park.
Enjoying a coffee under the trees– if they had to relax, that would do just fine.
However, as they sipped their coffee, they couldn’t help but think about what was said.
How did they feel about being a “beautiful girl?” It was a pivotal question in their life.
It was the first time in a long time they realized that they had left the Union.
One of the reasons they preferred the ship and the company of machines.
Valya was in a strange place with regards to their presentation and identity. They felt that they were neither a “man” or a “woman”, social constructions that hardly mattered in the Union by law but were still carried on casually by individuals. While Valya did not want to legislate how anyone else saw or referred to themselves, the prevailing culture was a bit annoying for them specifically– to achieve their desired presentation they used feminizing hormones and had been for years now. This led uninformed people to read them as a woman; and they feared it might lead lovers to read them as a man in bed, and not as what they wanted to be read, as neither one nor the other but just themself.
One of the things that influenced them was the traditionalist attitude of their parents and some of their close family. All of them believed strictly that the family should continue as pairs of uncomplicated men and women having as many children as possible. Such people were not extinct overnight just because the Union extended the rights of bodily autonomy to everyone under its jurisdiction. When Valya came out, the ensuing argument with their parents was so virulent that on a high of emotions they ran to a local branch of the internal security forces to inform on their parents as right-wing elements to the Ashura.
Sitting in a chair in the middle of that office, barely out of their teens, they asked–
“Say that I put down a statement– theoretically, what would happen?”
Across from them, a stoic Ashura officer in their black uniform and green armband.
She looked up from a portable she had taken out of a drawer.
Valya recalled it was a Commissar-Sergeant Yulia Sinilova, a short-haired young lady.
Handsome in uniform and with a polite demeanor behind the desk, she answered–
“We will investigate and if we agree there is a seditious element it will be eliminated.”
“Isn’t that– a bit harsh–?”
Yulia looked at Valya with a strange intensity.
“Misc Lebedova.” She began, using the approved gender-neutral honorific. “So-called traditionalism begins with denying their family members bodily autonomy. It begins there– but it won’t stay there. It will lead to strife along religious lines, racial and ethnic lines; it will become about whether the subject matter in educational courses is too novel, about the makeup of the Party being too foreign, about having strange neighbors and ethnic foods in the cafeteria. It will become about the political system, about the centralized production of goods. But it can all be stopped by a bullet. It is the duty of the Ashura, the mission of our service– to stop this chain of events even if it takes a bullet to do it.”
Receiving that response, Valya apologized profusely and left shortly thereafter.
Without their statement, Yulia did not even record their visit.
As severe as she was, she must have understood.
Though they were angry at their parents, they did not want them to be eliminated.
Thankfully in addition to the Ashura, the Union also had the neighborhood guards and their local shelters where someone with a bit more empathy nursed Valya’s broken heart throughout that night. That night, with the encouragement of the guards, they began the process to transfer out of their home and journeyed to the military academy at Solstice. Unlike the wider world, the secondary society of the military had a rigidly enforced egalitarianism, and Valya found comradeship to be better than citizenship in that regard. It even bore out to the Brigand, where most of the pilot squadron was transgender.
Their parents were proud of them for serving, despite everything that had happened.
And tried to be accommodating– by referring to them as a woman now.
Truly the world was such a mess everywhere.
Whether in the Union of Ferris, Lyser and Solstice; or in the Reichskommissariat Eisental.
But– the hope of things getting better in the latter was infinitely dimmer.
At least, it was at that moment. They hoped to be able to change that.
Under the trees, they sipped their coffee, wandering how anyone found themselves.
Perhaps taking time for themselves was a start. Perhaps dealing with people.
Even if it hurt sometimes; even if they disappointed you; even if they abandoned you.
“Ugh, whenever I’m not working on something I get the stupidest thoughts.”
They had no one to talk to but themselves but still vocalized their frustrations.
When they were done with their coffee they took a stroll around the park.
Marveling at the engineering miracle that allowed all of these trees to thrive. It was a challenge to have a park such as this. Trees expected sunlight, and they expected powerful, permeating sunlight, and if any park of the tree was not receiving the right amount, it would look duller and deader, and the growth of the young tree might even be warped, as it would grow to maximize sunlight exposure– so not necessarily straight up as these trees were.
Not only that, but trees also expected soil, with a composition of nutrients, and they expected rainfall to sustain them. The composite soil in which it was planted was chemically engineered, the sunlamps were strategically placed, and rain-making devices had been installed, with digital calendars of rain days available around the park for all guests to see.
So much more care had been taken to engineer for these trees, than for any human beings.
In terms of engineering, Aachen, like Kreuzung, was hostile to people.
Were Valya to design a very typical station, their foremost concern would have been to maximize living space. To give everyone a place to stay, with enough space and privacy that they did not feel too caged but were not in conflict with others, but contained enough that within the allotted construction area they could make as many units as possible. While also allowing for cafeterias and for distribution centers for goods, and social spaces like the plazas and community centers, each with a calculated amount of occupancy. There should be transportation, childcare and maintenance capability, supported by some level of local industry. These were incredible challenges and there was no one solution that solved every problem. However, Aachen and Kreuzung had not been designed with people in mind– people were coincidental here. Instead, they were designed for commerce.
Imbrian stations seemed to require a plurality of grand, sweeping storefronts full of goods to buy, and all adorned with the slogans for the many businesses competing for the polymer banknotes in the hands of those coincidental people. Valya found the designs pretty and the engineering to be rather astonishing. It was beautiful and immersive, it arrested one’s breath– but it was also depressing. There were so many crowds of people in vast, open spaces that needed a separate station to live in, and among them, there were people who did not even have a room and only the cold, steel floors comforted them.
Something like that went against everything that Valya felt about engineering.
They made weapons because the Union needed them to protect communism.
That was what they staunchly believed– but engineering should, generally, help people.
Things should be constructed, foremost, because people needed them.
Kreuzung and Aachen did not need more shops– but more shops seemed to be the aim.
Thinking about their surroundings made Valya want to return to the ship and never leave.
Especially as their walk seemed to inexorably draw them closer to a building flying a flag with a black sun disc, encased in white, surrounded by red. It was impossible to miss it, seated as if on a hill in the distance, the concrete and glass monument to the rot festering within Aachen. Under its watchful eye all of this took place. Every pathway in the park seemed to funnel toward that building, and in any event, Valya’s own morbid curiosity led them to want to see it up close. They had been afraid and intimidated of the prospect of patrolling Volkisch officers– but surely they could at least metaphorically stare the Volkisch in the eye by approaching the Gau office. They could at least pass by the front of it.
It seemed then, that fate had other plans for Valya that day.
As they crossed the front of the Gau office they briefly stopped to stare at the facade.
Enough so that the door opened, causing their heart to leap.
Not because an evil Volkisch officer had walked out to arrest them promptly.
But because the person that nonchalantly walked out with their hands in their pockets–
Looked astonishingly familiar.
Familiar enough– to recall youthful memories long discarded.
Walking down the steps as Valya stopped before them; looking down as they looked up.
Slightly taller than Valya, but not by much, still lithe, guarded, unsmiling. Long, dark, blueish hair tied up into a braided ponytail, a soft, fair face with a small nose and eyes. Dressed in a brown jacket, black pants and a white plunging shirt that exposed a few bio-luminescent nodes on their flat, slightly narrow chest. Soft-shouldered with lean limbs and yet despite the years and despite them leaving home they hardly looked any more rugged than when they left, when they were both teenagers with foolish ideas.
Ideas about freedom that perhaps this person realized after Valya rejected them.
“Mysia?” Valya said, at the foot of the steps.
“Valya?” Mysia said, looking down from them.
Both of them were stunned for a moment at the presence of the other.
It should have been impossible for them to meet.
Each read the immediate response of the other and knew for certain whom they had met.
Valya was not prepared today to have such hope in something so impossible.
They felt that if they did not do something, the world might evaporate as if a dream.
Shutting their eyes, they ran up the steps and threw their arms around Mysia.
Throwing their head into the chest of their long-lost friend, holding them tight–
“V-Valya? We– We can’t stay here. We need to go, come on.”
Mysia did not embrace them back.
At their urging, they left the steps of the Gau office and walked.
Valya followed Mysia, barely knowing whether their feet were moving, whether they were tethered to the ground, or whether the environment scrolled automatically past them like they were hovering forward off the ground. Not knowing where they were going or what to do. Not able to speak; aborting every sentence that formed in their head out of astonishment, out of anxiety. Mysia might have been feeling the same. They stole glances at each other, awkwardly, and broke eye contact just as suddenly while walking.
“Mysia, are you in trouble?” Valya asked, finally allowing themself to speak.
“No. It was nothing. They– they tried to get me but had nothing to pin on me.”
Valya never conceived of the Volkisch as people who let anyone off with a warning.
Nevertheless, they were glad Mysia was not hurt.
After some wandering, the two left the trees and walked across grey concrete into one of the office complexes. They stood in an alley between two office buildings on the edge of the second tier’s facilities. At their backs, one of the station walls, and a capped duct giving off a small amount of visibly moving air. Mysia put their back to one of the buildings and Valya put their back to the other, standing with their eyes locked together but still silent.
Mysia reached out suddenly– taking Valya’s chin and lifting their face.
Grinning with a too-familiar mischief.
“It is you.” Mysia said. “It’s like I never left. You’re still the same softie.”
Valya pulled off Mysia’s hands from themself. “Hey! I can’t believe you, after all this time.”
“What else am I supposed to do or say? I wasn’t holding out hope of ever seeing you again.”
“Me neither!” Valya said. They smiled a bit. “But I’m– I’m really happy to see you!”
Mysia did not smile back. It was hard for Valya to read their expression.
“You look so– healthy. Grown up. You finally left the Union yourself.” Mysia said.
Looking Valya up and down in a way that embarrassed them to recognize.
“Yeah, I decided to leave. I am working as a mechanic in Stockheim now.” They said.
Of course, Valya could not admit to the truth of why they were able to meet like this.
“Stockheim’s good. Nice pay, and the people are friendly. I’m glad you’re alright.”
It was so awkward. Valya could hardly stand it. They should have been so happy.
Instead, they were standing in a tiny gap framed by concrete, staring at each other.
“Mysia– why did you leave the Union?”
And the fatal words simply left Valya’s lips though they barely realized it.
When they did– even they were surprised at themself.
Thankfully, Mysia took it in stride. Letting out a bit of a sigh, tossing their hair a bit.
“Chasing the myth of the Katarran mercenary. I told you as much when I left.”
That can’t have been the only reason. Valya always thought they had done something.
It was not beyond their will or capability to have done something.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Valya asked.
Mysia did not answer. Rather, they asked a question by way of response–
“Valya, do you still believe the stuff they taught us in the Union?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I see.” Mysia said. Valya thought they looked disappointed with that answer.
“How are you getting along these days? You’re really not in trouble, right?” Valya asked.
Both of them seemed to know that there was an impassable wall between them.
“I’m working for a rich woman now, Gloria Innocence Luxembourg.” Mysia said.
Valya froze for a moment. Surprised, perhaps elated– were they on the same side–?
Foolishly, they were almost ready to say anything– but– Mysia talked so fast–
Mysia spoke first and made a gesture as to bid Valya to be quiet for a moment.
“Valya, I am really sorry but we don’t have all the time we need to catch up now. I have something going on. But– we can still go on an adventure together, just like we wanted.” They said. “It’s really incredible that I found you. It’s– It’s something I’ve only ever dreamed of. I think it’s a sign that everything is going to go how I want. I’ve got plans, Valya. I’m going to get a ship, and a crew. You can come. We’ll go anywhere we want, and we can do anything. Nobody can boss us around anymore. I just need a few more days to get ready.”
At this, Valya’s heart sank– but a part of them, a foolish, stupid, childish part, wanted–
“You don’t have to answer.” Mysia said. “In two days, meet me in Stockheim at noon.”
“Mysia– I don’t know–” Valya felt like they were letting them slip away again–
That mane of blue hair swaying in the air as they turned their back like before–
“Even if you don’t want to leave, I’ll have time to catch up then. To really catch up. I want to know everything that happened to you. I promise I won’t leave you with regrets. I will tell you everything and then you can decide. But right now, I really have to leave. I especially don’t want to linger around this place too much.” Mysia gestured around themself. Perhaps meaning the second tier of Aachen. Perhaps meaning Aachen itself?
Then the most shameful and impossible words of them all spilled out of Valya’s lips.
“Mysia– do you still–?”
Care about me? Care about me like our doomed teenage love?
They would have said it–
But there was no opportunity.
As if in answer to the unspoken plea about to spill deadly into the air–
Mysia took a step forward into Valya’s personal space and
kissed them.
On the lips, with a bit of force, a bit of tongue. A hand on their hip, gripping the fabric.
Heat, touch, passion– a desire they hardly ever felt–
Obliterating Valya’s better judgment as easily as when they first saw them at the Gau.
As easily as when they first saw them at school in Sevastopol.
And as easily as when they almost, so close, stole them away from home.
Easy as a stolen kiss; easy as a quick turn of the feet to leave.
“Stockheim, at noon. Valya, I still want to make you mine. Please consider it.”
Rapid as the current that must have swept them away that day.
Mysia turned, showing Valya their back, and walked away with unconcerned alacrity.
With that confidence and power that imagined a world Valya could only dream of.
Their knees buckled in the alleyway; their breath stolen away with the kiss.
Tears in their eyes and not knowing what to do or what to think.
Had it all been a hallucination? But their lips were still warm with their touch.
All these years, and Valya was still so easily shaped by Mysia in mere instants.
Could they really do as Mysia asked? Did they– want to–?
UNX-001 “Brigand” Official Chronicle
Chronicle Date Code (FROM-1): 293906
Chronicler: Commissar Aaliyah Bashara
Mood
Aboard: Busy, but spirits are high.
Myself: Contemplative.
We set out on this journey long enough now that 980 is near. We left close to mid-year so it should not be surprising. But it feels like an entire year has passed. I am appreciative of my reliable counterpart. I would have broken down if I was shouldering this alone.
Meals
Breakfast: Blins with mushrooms, and a choice of sour cream, cottage cheese or both.
Lunch: Gloria had “Shimii-style” wraps delivered. Hummus, ta’miya, salad, tahini.
Dinner: “Serrano noodles” egg noodles with beans, salsa, hot pepper, avocado and cheese.
Events
Today’s entry will be one of the lengthy ones.
Ulyana slept poorly. I heard her throughout the night, making nonspecific noises in her sleep. This also affected my sleep but to a lesser degree. She was obviously struggling to get out of bed. On my own initiative I brought her a coffee and tried to comfort her. I offered to take some work off of her hands and she claimed it would not be fair to me. There was no point in arguing against this. I instead offered to get her Corvalol for sleep from Doctor Kappel.
She confided in me that she felt everyone in the United Front was hiding something. I tried to both agree and mollify her while also pointing out we were also hiding things. To calm her nerves, I reassured her that I would be at her side to support her no matter what transpired.
We set out for the United Front venue at 11:00.
Before leaving, I gave Murati a goal to frequent the hangar and get acquainted with the sailors’ work more intimately by talking to Galina and the workgroup managers, instead of bothering the bridge crew all day. Murati apologized profusely and claimed that she was ashamed of her “lack of investigation” and that she would correct herself. She volunteered to write a self-critique and I told her not to and that I would be angry if she still decided to write one and that I would not read it if she did. She seemed to finally acquiesce then.
I also gave Aatto a reading and learning goal for the day, enough to keep her occupied between her activities with Murati. It would be remiss of me to turn down a desire to become a Union commissar, which is rare even among committed communists in the Union. Aatto is experienced and highly educated but ideologically suspect and sexually troubled. Setting aside my personal feelings, I am using this as an avenue to correct her. A commissar embodies high standards for conduct. I would be glad to see her achieve this.
Along the way to the venue, Ulyana’s spirits seemed to return enough to ask if we could stop for a spell somewhere along the way. I regretted having to keep her on task, because I enjoyed our brief noontime drink together the other day. I then had an epiphany and suggested we could stop somewhere for a quick drink after the delegations adjourned. Murati would only be happy to have the ship for an hour or two more.
This more than any of my other suggestions seemed to brighten Ulyana up.
Just as we were getting to the venue, we received a message from Eithnen Ní Faoláin that she would not be attending the day’s meeting and that she would defer any decisions that would be needed from her to Ulyana and Erika. She had to talk to Burke and Marina about what they had turned up about the Uhlans and the station’s security situation overall– she figured her time was better spent helping package their intelligence for us than listening to Tamar Livnat’s “grating voice” for another day. While I mildly disagreed, I understood Captain Ní Faoláin’s disdain for politicking and did not argue with her about it. I could take a more active role to support Ulyana and make up for the lack of personnel at the venue.
But the day’s topic would be a simple one.
As agreed the day before, on the third day of deliberations each side would disclose the status and distribution of their forces. It was a simple topic that left little room for the grandiose political disagreements that had been seen in the previous days. Ulyana and I both understood that on this day, it was likely that every side would lie one way or another. The anarchists had reasons to lowball their forces as they did not trust anyone; Gloria had reasons to self-aggrandize as she wanted to take control of the United Front’s agenda generally. We had certain assets that we would never disclose, such as our Omenseer friends and the existence of psionics, as well as the Brigand’s agarthic shielding lattice. However, in terms of our conventional firepower, we laid everything out on the table, and we were frank about our number of troops. We were up front that aside from our special forces contingents we lacked infantry potential. The Volksarmee was primarily naval.
I expected Gloria Innocence Luxembourg to engage in some amount of attention seeking behavior. I did not expect the degree to which she would do so. Gloria concocted an entire “presentation” about the Reichbanner Schwarzrot. It was clearly a propaganda film! She was using us as a test audience! I was too confused to object for most of it, with each passing minute believing that the film must soon end, and some actual information must appear.
Sweeping shots of the repurposed cruise ship she used as a personal flagship. Schwarzrot troops in red and black uniforms marching with the eponymous reichbanner flag in hand, clearly shot in the spacious hangar or cargo hold of that same cruise ship. There were myriad slogans on the screen, such as “Justice, liberty, social democracy” and “fair taxes where everyone pays their share.” For whatever reason there were examples of “socialist” policies that “were already in place” like emergency services. A song that she commissioned about herself, its lyrics finally awakening me from my intellectual stupor and prompting me to ask if she disclosed to an artist any sensitive information. She claimed the artist was a zealous member of the Schwarzrot. Finally there was a Diver, clearly a rebadged Rhineametalle Sturmvolker with a slightly rounder headpiece, that had a pinup of Gloria in what looked like a skimpy halterneck robe with a rose in her hair and a golden belt.
I pointed at the screen. In my mind I was screaming righteously. But I was utterly silent.
Ulyana rarely looked every one of her 36 years– but she was haggard at that moment.
Moravskyi began to complain at the twenty minute mark how much longer it would take, but thankfully the film was only twenty two minutes long, with the final few frames having some actual organizational charts with details about the Schwarzrot. These details were about as useless as the rest of the film was. I did not for a second believe that Gloria had a fleet of 100 ships unless she was counting every escape pod or shuttle as a ship.
And, furthermore, knowing she was going to do this, I had actually researched how many employees Raylight Beauty had, and the exact number of those employees were listed in her chart as “reserve manpower” for the Schwarzrot. It was a complete farce!
Tamar Livnat called it unserious which got Gloria flared up all over again.
Erika clapped and praised Gloria’s spirit but asked if she could pull the charts back up.
They had scrolled too fast– she had missed them.
She was either untroubled by the rest or did not want to make a fuss anymore.
I was glad Murati was not here to fight these people; but some of them needed it.
Moravskyi and Tamar disclosed small numbers of infantry but with highly specialized skills. They had saboteurs, hackers, bomb-makers; they had people who could knock off supplies at ports or processing facilities; they had solidarity with some commercial transit personnel who could smuggle them places. They disclosed that most of their manpower were discrete cells waiting for a chance to strike in many stations around the Imbrium. Ulyana had learned the night before that Tamar Livnat had a ship– she did not disclose this today.
She reiterated her need for ships.
The Omenseers Avaritia and Gula, posing as the anarchists Zozia Chelik and Ksenia Apfel, made up a cover story that their cell had been uprooted by the Volkisch and they only had about five additional personnel. Moravskyi was shocked to hear this as he believed them to have an operation with thousands of people. Tamar looked suspicious of them. Neither would comment further. It was unconvincing, and their act was wearing thin, but in this stage, where everyone had lied, the indiscretion was more easily accepted.
It was at this point that things did get confrontational again.
Tamar Livnat suggested that our problems with troops and recruiting would be over if we could open up the Khaybar Pass for Bosporus. She confirmed that the Khaybar Pass is being held by a group of Shimii “pirates” (her words) that Bosporus has failed to break through. In her mind, if the Pass is cleared, we would receive a veritable flood of reinforcements from Bosporus. She had contacts in Bosporus and could reach them to coordinate.
History might judge us for our decision, but we had good reason to be against this:
1. The Union as a state with a foreign policy, has one very important and pragmatic reason to reject the displacement of Shimii by the Juzni and Eloim actors of Bosporus, which is: the Union was founded by Volgians, Shimii and Bosporans. Milana Omarova, the “Vozhd” of the Shimii in the Union, is being groomed to become Premier Jayasankar’s likely successor. Any action against Shimii on an Imbria-wide scale is likely to have repercussions “at home.” It would be seen as a betrayal and shake the trust of the Shimii. As an agent of the Union, as a Commissar, and as a Shimii, I must reject any such actions in line with the national policy.
2. It has historically borne out that “pirates” are usually downtrodden people trying to secure a livelihood. This has always been the case in Imbria. Shimii, Katarrans, North Bosporans, Campos, and even Eloim, have had famous commerce raiders who ultimately “stole from the rich to give to the poor.” It would be odious to me on not just a personal but an ethical-ideological level to become the party stealing from these people instead of helping them and meeting their needs. For a self-described anarchist, Tamar can be rather cruel.
3. Should we succeed in the odious task of evicting the Shimii from whatever home they have in Khaybar, the “flood of troops” that would constitute anarchist forces from Bosporus. While I would very much regret to see violence between our groups, an anarchist Eisental would not be as friendly to the Union as the regime of Erika Kairos and her Volksarmee. I am a soldier and commissar of the Union before I am anything else. It would be against not only my duty but also my beliefs to put solidarity or convenience before the safety of the nation which I have sworn an oath to serve. I believe that only the Union, and only a militarily powerful Union, can safeguard communism. It is terrible to me to have to now weigh the idea of allowing the Reichskommissariat to entrench itself further when there is a possibility to challenge it sooner, with the future that an anarchist Eisental might bring.
Ultimately, none of this did I speak to Tamar Livnat. I simply and efficiently stood against the proposal on the grounds that it would be a waste of our forces and incur the (rightful) anger of some of the very people we are trying to organize against the Volkisch. At any rate, Moravskyi agreed with me on the grounds that if the Bosporus militia which had the backing of many stations failed to penetrate Khaybar, our armada would likely fail as well.
Tamar quietly and serenely dropped the subject as she had done with many other subjects. Her demeanor continued to unnerve me, but I had no cause to accuse her of anything except being personally odious to me. All of us were withholding information and all of us had bitter ideological disagreements. We would certainly continue to be cautious of her and her faction. But to do any more than be personally cautious was out of the question.
She would remain at this table for now.
We set the agenda for the next day that we would talk about funds, logistics, requisition and asset-sharing within the United Front. We would permanently address the question of our individual and shared resources, as some members of the Front had more, and some members had less, but we all had needs to meet. Gloria seemed excited at this prospect– of course, being the member with the most resources. Tamar being the member with the least resources, was also glad the topic would get more attention.
After we adjourned, we called Murati and told her our plans, which she supported.
Ulyana and I stopped at a small café that served pastries, simple fare, coffee and alcohol.
We ordered coffees and Ulyana insisted we get them with a shot of honey liqueur. There were complimentary sweet crisps at the table to snack on. We talked for about a half hour after receiving our drinks. Ulyana asked what I thought of Aachen. I had not had much time to think about Aachen as a place, as much as a container for various vexations. I told her that it reminded me too much of Kreuzung. That despite its official policies being more “liberal” on paper it was still an unwelcoming and highly stratified place.
I told her I saw people’s gazes on me at times.
Ulyana agreed and whispered that the café owner had been a bit taken aback by her accent.
For the Captain, it must have been difficult to hide her accent to try to blend in.
Quite a pity too because I found her voice, accent and all, to be very charming. I told her as much and got a laugh out of her. It was fun getting to chat. We couldn’t be very honest with each other in such a setting, for someone might hear. But nevertheless, I am growing accustomed to the presence of the captain and growing accostumed to being by her side. I assume that as I have been writing the past several months my assessments must have become more glowing. I will always criticize her when she deserves it.
But more and more, I do so out of a deep respect for her.
As I wrote before– I am feeling contemplative.
Chronicles are meant to be an honest recollection of the feelings of the chronicler.
They are meant to recount feelings which the chronicler would regret losing forever.
It is the final chance of the sailing dead to ever be properly understood by the still-living.
While it is important to recollect the day-to-day, the chronicler has the privilige of having her feelings the most apparent. She can only guess what others are feeling, and she must do so in order to paint a picture of the crew. I have done my best to describe personages like Murati Nakara and Sonya Shalikova, so that it is possible for posterity to recall not just their deeds but perhaps an inkling of who they were as persons. However, one person that can actually be described to her fullness in this chronicle, is Aaliyah Bashara, the writer.
With that said, it would be remiss of me to obscure my feelings too much.
I must admit that Captain Ulyana Korabiskaya has been on my mind more and more.
Perhaps because, more and more, we rely on each other, and have worked very long nights.
The United Front has led to us staying up late together and working closer than ever before.
More than when we set off, certainly; more than in Serrano or in Goryk’s Gorge.
So I have seen many more faces of her– she has been challenged in ways nobody has been.
Ulyana Korabiskaya is one of the few Captains I have served with. She is the only Captain I have ever accompanied into serious, life-threatening combat. She and I did not get on initially. I did not respect her. I was on the lookout for her to cause problems and perhaps even abuse her power over others. However, she has proven herself to me time and again, as not only a capable and professional officer, but one that is outstandingly conscientious. She tries not just to do what is efficient or pragmatic, but what is right, even at great cost. She regrets being forced to take any action which is punitive or brutal, but she wields her powers as she must, and does not shy away from those difficult decisions. My caution around her has gradually melted away. Now I strive to give her perspective, constructive criticism, a second half to herself to help her make decisions, and yes, at times, a bit of necessary scolding. We have a very amicable relationship. She has won my support. And much more–
I find myself trusting her above anyone that I have ever trusted.
I would kill for Ulyana Korabiskaya; of this I am certain. I would protect her to my last.
Being honest– I am not sure how I could end this mission and leave this woman behind.
It is a frightening thing to admit when one’s feelings seem to verge on the unprofessional.
After another turning of the day and night, the Mahdist village buzzed with activity.
On the stage, the Tazia monument was completed and covered with a tarp.
Around the village, banners were hung up with blue, green and gold patterns.
Children were taken aside and instructed on the etiquette of the occasion.
Behind closed doors, Sareh and Baran continued to teach Kalika her moves.
Homa, meanwhile, watched the village gradually come alive around her.
Helping where she could, putting decorations up, helping to fill and move water barrels.
Despite the events of the past few days, the villagers continued to prepare, undaunted.
Feeling their energy, Homa could not help but be swept up out of her gloominess.
Tomorrow,
on the fourth day of the United Front’s deliberations,
while great forces moved in the shadows, and
as Aachen drew nearer to Destiny,
the mahdist Shimii of the little village would forget their pains and celebrate Tishtar.
A festival of water, of the great heroes, of mourning, and of the Mahdist’s will.
Homa’s heart began to beat steadily faster as she looked forward to Kalika’s dance.
And hopefully to a hard-earned plate of cooked meat.
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