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Valiant #27: Reunion Tails #22: Recovery Covenant #21: The Blackthorn Demon CURSEd #17: Relocation Valiant #28: Butterflies and Brick Walls Covenant #22: The Great Realignment Tails #23: The Most Dangerous Prey Valiant #29: Sunbuster CURSEd #18: Culling Covenant #23: The King of Pain CURSEd #19: Conscript of Fate Tails #24: Explanation Vacation Covenant #24: The Demon Tailor of Talingrad CURSEd #20: Callsign Valiant #30: Sunthorn Tails #25: Eschatology Covenant #25: The Commencement CURSEd #21: Subtle Pressures Valiant #31: Recruits Tails #26: Prodigal Son Covenant #26: The Synners CURSEd #22: Feint Covenant #27: The Stag of Sjelefengsel Valiant #32: Marketing Makeover Tails #27: Kaldt Fjell Covenant #28: The Claim CURSEd #23: Laughing Matters Valiant #33: The Gift of Hate Tails #28: The Leave Taking Covenant #29: The Mirage Mansion CURSEd #24: Mixed Signals Covenant #30: The Gates of Hell Valiant #34: Be Careful What You Wish For Tails #29: S(Elf)less Covenant #31: The Old City Valiant #35: Preparations CURSEd #25: The Cruelty of Children Tails #30: The Drifter Deposition Covenant #32: The Hounds of Winter Valiant #36: The Fountain of Souls Tails #31: Statistically Unfair CURSEd #26: Avvikerene Covenant #33: The Daughters of Maugrimm CURSEd #27: The Lies We Wear Tails #32: Life-Time Discount CURSEd #28: Avvi, Avvi Valiant #37: The Types of Loyalty Covenant #34: The Ocean of Souls Tails #33: To Kill A Raven Valiant #38: Tic Toc (Timestop) Covenant #35: The Invitation CURSEd #29: Temptation Tails #34: Azra Guile... Covenant #36: ...The Ninetailed Tyrant Valiant #39: Dizzy Little Circles Tails #35: I Dream Of A Demon Goddess CURSEd #30: Kenkai Gekku Covenant #37: The Ties of Family Valiant #40: Apostate Covenant #38: The Torching of Tirsigal Valiant #41: Location, Relocation CURSEd #31: Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover Valiant #42: The Book You Need Tails #36: Meet The Parents CURSEd #32: Turkey Bacon Club

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CURSEd #32: Turkey Bacon Club

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Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #32: Turkey Bacon Club]

Log Date: 1/26/12765

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion, Ilyana Kemaim

 

 

 

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Officers’ Lounge

11:28pm LST

“Been a hot minute since I saw you, old chum. Pity it’s under these circumstances.”

I puff out a sigh as Markos squeaks the cap off a bottle of Venusian whiskey, leaning across the table to pour a little more into my glass. “Yeah, it’s been a hell of a year so far, and we’re only twenty-six days in.”

“I’ve been feeling it, that’s for sure.” Markos says, sitting back in his chair and picking up his own glass. “I thought it bad when the Challengers were coming back and forming the Valiant. Then there was Mokasha. And now there’s Tirsigal. Every time you think it can’t get crazier, it just ramps up even more.”

“Tell me about it.” I say, sipping from my glass and wincing. “Feel kinda stupid for thinking this would all blow over a year and a half ago.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one.” Markos says, nodding to me. “A lot of people thought the Valiant would flame out and things would calm down. But after Tirsigal… it’s pretty obvious they’ve got no plans to slow down anytime soon.”

I start to reply, then I process what he just said, and tilt my head to one side, quirking my mouth a little. I suppose expecting to get through a conversation with Markos without brushing up against a conspiracy theory was asking a little too much. “You think the Valiant are responsible for Tirsigal?” I ask carefully.

“Look, I’m not sayin’ — I’m just sayin’.” he says, putting a hand up. “I saw the footage of what happened on Valcorria, and it’s pretty obvious, what they’re capable of now.”

I run my tongue through my teeth as I try to parse that statement. “Well, what exactly did you see on Valcorria that makes you think that?” I ask.

“Bro, Axiom, you were there. You saw it firsthand.” Markos says, leaning back in his chair and sipping from his glass. “That library? Just… poof. Tells you all you need to know about what they’re capable of now.”

Pressing my lips together, I tap the rim of my glass against them. “I’m not quite sure I follow.”

Markos grimaces. “I mean, that makes sense, honestly. You probably wouldn’t know; you were still a kid when the Challengers went down.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Markos, you’re only a few years older than me.”

“A lot of people have forgotten stuff over the years.” he goes on, apparently not having heard me as he stares off into the middle distance. “Memories fade as time passes. Something that a lot of people have forgotten is that Challengers could teleport.”

My raised eyebrow stays raised. “Care to explain that, or…?”

“I only wish I could.” he shakes his head, sipping from his glass. “Not much is known about it. It was very secretive, one of their most powerful technologies. But they couldn’t hide it, not completely. The Challengers used to be able to go anywhere in the galaxy at the snap of their fingers; it’s how they were so good at responding to crises. They could be onsite faster than anyone else. Nobody ever figured out how it worked, though there were rumors that it was tied to the Bastions. And now that the Valiant have one of the Bastions, I think they’ve finally figured out how to use that teleporting tech again, judging by the way that library disappeared on Valcorria.”

“You realize we could just ask Headache, or Whisper, or Gossamer, right?” I point out. “All three of them are former Challengers. If the Bastions have teleportation tech, they’d probably know about it.”

“Oh c’mon, Axiom, do you really think they’d let the people lower down the chain know about the teleportation tech?” Markos scoffs, waving a hand. “That would’ve been a high-level secret, not something you share with the rank and file.”

“I mean, considering they probably had to use it… to send their people to places to respond to crises… I’m pretty sure all the Challengers would’ve known about it.” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “And how does any of this prove that the Valiant were responsible for Tirsigal?”

“I mean, think about it, Axe.” Markos says, pouring himself another shot. “The problem with worldkiller weapons is the wind-up time. It’s entirely possible to make those weapons, but it’s almost impossible to deploy them because you can see them coming from lightyears away, and countermeasures get deployed weeks ahead of time. But if you can just teleport it straight to the target?” He clunks the whiskey bottle down on the table. “Checkmate.”

“You think the Valiant have a worldkiller weapon.” I say flatly.

“I’m just sayin’, Axe. Somebody does.” Markos shrugs, leaning back and folding his arms as he sips from his glass. “That’s what it takes to torch an entire world. And your mechanic, whatsisname, Kent, told me he’d heard whispers of someone working on a worldkiller weapon in recent months. Man’s got his ear to the wall in a lot of places, so there might be something to it.”

That catches me off guard. “You talk to Kent?”

“Well, it’s more like he talks to me. Seems like he likes to stay in the loop on all the happenings around the HQ. Great guy. Fun to hang out with.” He reaches up to scratch his jaw thoughtfully. “Never seems to pay for his own drinks, though. They must not be paying him a lot.”

I snort at that. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. So he’s the one that thinks that the Valiant have a worldkiller weapon at their disposal?”

“He didn’t say the Valiant had it, but he was pretty confident that one was involved at Tirsigal, and it seemed like he had an idea about who used it, but he didn’t want to say.” Markos says. “But it seems pretty obvious that the only people that could’ve made it work were the Valiant, and I’m pretty sure he’s arrived to the same conclusion. It’s just something you don’t want to say in polite company, because it was a pretty big massacre, after all. Seems a little tawdry to be throwing blame before the Colloquium officially pins the people responsible.”

I don’t quite buy it, and knowing Kent as well as I do, I know there’s reasons he may be holding back on assigning blame, at least when talking with Markos. Filing that away in my head to bring up with Kent later, when we get back to the HQ, I decide to divert Markos’ attention to other topics in the method that I know works best with him. “Hmm. Speaking of the Valiant, I’ve heard that they’ve started releasing Junko collectibles for their Special Agents. Someone told me they were going to use the sales data to figure out where to recruit, based on the locations where the Valiant Junkos are selling the best.”

“Ooohhh I did hear about the Valiant Junkos! Apparently people love them, but here’s the kicker: I heard that the Valiant Junkos are being manufactured on Viralix worlds, where they’re sneaking psiwave chips into the orbs to run a covert psi-op to improve the galactic public’s opinion of the Valiant…”

 

 

 

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Diplomatic Office

1/27/12765 9:28am LST

“…and intelligence has reported the location of another Dragine artifact. This one, thankfully, in a less dangerous environment than the one that you were previously tasked with retrieving.”

My brows draw together. “That’ll be three Dragine artifacts in the last, like… six months, right? Is that… normal?”

“It is not, no.” Nazka says from behind his desk, where he has several reports splayed across the glass surface of his desk, and even more on the wall behind the desk. “Dragine artifacts are surpassingly rare, especially this far removed from the Serenity War. The arcanology department’s leading theory is that these artifacts are part of a set, given their structural and dimensional similarities. The third one will likely resemble the first two, and it is unclear whether the function of any one sphere is dependent on the presence of the other two.”

It takes me a second to parse Nazka’s chunky vocabulary, but I eventually figure out what he’s getting at. “So arcanology thinks we may have to collect all three in order to use any of them at all?”

“It is a possibility. There are recorded instances of sets of Dragine artifacts that are functionally useless if they are not paired with the rest of their set.” Nazka says, starting to close down one of the windows on his desk. “Of course, with regards to the artifacts we’re pursuing, little is known about them, and that may not be the case. But if it is, it is imperative that we secure as many of them as possible — even if we cannot acquire all of them, we can see to it that the Valiant are unable to utilize the one they have acquired so far.”

“Understood.” I nod. “And I assume the classification for anything tied to the artifacts…?”

“Remains Peacekeeper and above, yes. With how valuable Dragine artifacts are, and what other parties will do to get their hands on them, it is vital that we keep this at the elite ranks and above. If other parties find out about the existence of the third artifact, they will attempt to claim it themselves.” Nazka confirms, lacing his thin fingers together. “Arrangements are currently being made for that assignment, and while the launch date has not been determined yet, it is likely that you and a team will be dispatched to that assignment shortly after we return to the HQ. We are letting Peacekeepers know this ahead of time, so it does not come as a surprise if you are dispatched less than a week after you return to the HQ. We understand that may not be ideal, but the gravity of the assignment may not permit us the luxury of the usual downtime between deployments.”

I nod once more. “Understandable. I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Naturally. Now, that is the end of the matters I had to discuss with you; you are now dismissed.” Nazka says, unlacing his fingers and returning his attention to the reports on his desk. “Please go locate Little Wolf, and send her to me; I need to have a similar meeting with her regarding the upcoming assignments and her report on the Library.”

I nod a third time and turn to go, but something is bothering me and I feel like I don’t ask it now, I won’t get the chance to do so again. “Actually, Deputy Administrator, now that you mention it…” I say, turning back around. “…there’s something about the Library that’s been bothering me.”

Nazka’s cold grey eyes flick up towards me, though the rest of his body doesn’t move. “Is that so.” he says, and though his tone is flat and emotionless, I get the feeling that his patience is being tried.

“Yeah.” I say, shifting my stance to fold my arms. “You.”

He fully raises his head at this point. “If this is regarding my combat performance during the Library assignment, I will fully acknowledge that it was subpar. I do not have the requisite arrogance to pretend otherwise. I have dwelt upon it over the last several days, and decided that it is apparent that I have spent too much time behind the desk, and will be setting up a training regimen for myself once we return to the HQ. While I do not imagine that I will be dispatched on another assignment in the near future, you can expect that when I am, I will be more than capable of pulling my weight on the squad.”

“Alright, okay. I’m glad you’re willing to do that.” I say. “But there’s something that isn’t explained by any of that. Yeah, you may be rusty, but that Librarian that killed Onslaught? We had him with his back against the wall. You could’ve ended him, but you held back, and you held the rest of us back too. You let him get away with killing one of our people.”

Nazka laces his fingers together again, this time leaning back in his chair. “Yes. That.” he says, sizing up the reports on his desk before waving them away, as if to clear any distractions from this conversation. “Setting aside the fact that Onslaught’s value as a Peacekeeper was dubious at best, there are multiple reasons for the actions I took and the orders I gave in that situation. The first is that killing that Librarian likely would not have achieved anything of value, beyond a moment of catharsis. I assume you are not familiar with living Libraries, Axiom?”

I hold my hands to either side. “Well, if you’d like to enlighten me.”

“Then I shall.” he says, folding one leg over the other. “Librarians within a living Library are often living books themselves. You saw what happened to Onslaught after she was killed?”

“Yeah, and it’s not something I’m gonna forget anytime soon.” I answer.

“That is a living book. When a person dies within a living Library, their soul is trapped within it, and is turned into literature. Most often a book of some sort, but sometimes also a scroll, or maybe an audiobook, or a data drive, or some other form of record or stored information.” Nazka explains. “The Librarians that staff living Libraries are sometimes living books that have been reconstituted. When you kill them, they turn back into living books — but they can be reconstituted. Again, and again, and again, and again.”

I bite my lip as I see where he’s going with this. “So… Librarians can’t die?”

“They can die, certainly. The issue is that Librarians which are living books, or who become living books, will not stay dead.” Nazka says over his laced fingers. “As I have never worked in a Library myself, I can only make educated guesses as to their eschatological functions. I assume the destruction of a living book will kill the person that it reconstitutes, but destroying magical books is a notoriously difficult and often dangerous undertaking, something which we did not have the time to trial-and-error in that situation. Killing that Librarian likely would’ve turned him into book, and then destroying that book likely would’ve taken time and effort we could not afford to waste, and all of it would’ve been tangential to our purpose there: destroying the Valiant and reclaiming the artifact that Laughing Alice gave them.”

I press my lips together. I don’t like admitting it, but the way he’s explaining it is starting to make it clear why he gave the orders he did. “You said there multiple reasons. What were the other reasons you didn’t kill him?”

Nazka’s thumbs twitch and slide past each other. “Well. In no order of importance, the second was that I did not want to escalate the situation further. Magical locations and residents can be quite petty and spiteful. Killing one of the Librarians may have prompted increased aggression from the other Librarians, and we were not in a position to deal with a renewed assault, especially since Libraries often have a wide variety of weapons at their disposal. And the third reason is that I suspected that the Librarian that killed Onslaught may have been a Syntaritov.”

Syntaritov. The name is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “I’ve heard that name before, I just… I can’t remember where…”

“You met one, roughly two years ago. We were looking for help decoding the map for the Spark, and we summoned a creature known as the Blackthorn Demon to ask for his help.” Nazka reminds me. “You may recall that he referred to himself as Lord Syntaritov.”

“Oh yeah, that!” I exclaim as it all comes rushing back. “That was the demon in the bathrobe, right? The one that showed up in the middle of brushing his teeth?”

“That is the one, yes. He was a Syntaritov, or at least he claimed to be, and we handled him with the caution that should be afforded to such a creature.” Nazka confirms. “You recall his demeanor, correct?”

“Yeah, he was really… confident. Like it was a quiet confidence; the confidence of knowing he was in control.” I say, thinking back on the encounter. “Even though he had nothing but a bathrobe, and three of us were fully armed—” I stop dead as the similarities click. “Oh my god. The Librarian was exactly the same. Completely unarmed, outnumbered, and he just did not give a shit. He was in control the whole time, even when he was sitting on the ground with a scorch crater in his chest.”

“Precisely.” Nazka says coolly. “Do you remember any other similarities?”

I unfold my arms, thinking about it, running the two experiences back in my head. The first encounter is harder to remember, since it happened over a year ago, but… “The eyes. They were this… unnatural, vivid shade of green.”

“Remember these things, and know that there is a reason why these creatures are feared.” Nazka says. “They are almost never armed; they have no need of weapons. Most often they have white hair, green eyes, and an unusual demeanor. Sometimes they will play games of chance, or make deals, as the Blackthorn Demon wanted to do. Do not ever play their games. Do not accept their deals. And do not vex them, if at all possible. At best, they might take away any powers you may have, or saddle you with a creative curse; at worst, they will pick through your memories and eat certain ones if they think you are better off without them, or that doing so will make you a more agreeable person.”

“They can eat memories?” I say, feeling a little unsettled by that.

“Easily. They are creatures of the Dreaming; they feed on emotions, memories, and dreams.” Nazka explains. “There are many creatures to come from the Dreaming, but the Syntaritovs are some of the most dangerous, and not always by design or intention. Some of them simply want to have fun; some of them think they are being helpful; and all of them are dangerous when vexed. That is why I hesitated when I saw that Librarian; I was concerned that Onslaught had gotten us into a fight with something far beyond our capacity to handle.”

I think back to the Librarian slumped against the wall, looking so weak and defenseless. “I still think we could’ve taken him down.”

“I would remind you of how that worked for Onslaught, but perhaps learning from the mistakes of others is not your style.” Nazka remarks drily. “If you would rather burn your hand even after you’ve been told not to touch the stove, who am I to deny your roundabout method of attaining experience.”

“I just don’t think it was right. To leave like that. To not do something after Onslaught got killed and trapped there.” I say, knowing full well that Nazka will disapprove. “I didn’t like Onslaught, but she still deserved better than that.”

“Then perhaps it is a good thing that your command roles have been limited.” Nazka replies with a certain tartness. “Leadership requires the consideration of the whole, not just the part. I was not just responsible for Onslaught, but for all of you, and I was not going to risk the welfare of the group for the sake of an individual that was already dead. It is something you would do well to learn if you ever wish to hold a position of command. Now, is there anything further you wished to discuss?”

Though it’s phrased as a question, it’s clearly a dismissal, and fighting it wouldn’t get me anywhere productive. “No. That is all.”

“Good.” Nazka says, tapping on his desk. The door to the office spirals open. “Go retrieve Little Wolf so I can speak to her about her Library report.”

“Yes sir.” With that, I turn and head out of the room, the door spiraling shut behind me. Taking a deep breath in the hall, I slowly let it out, then start walking.

Even after all the years I’ve spent working under him, talking to Nazka never seems to get any easier.

 

 

 

Event Log: Ilyana Kemaim

C.V. Justice: Ironfist’s Quarters

10:40am LST

“Alrighty, big guy, how’s it doing today?” I say as the door to Ironfist’s quarters spirals shut behind me. The man himself is sitting on the edge of his bed, gingerly pulling his socks on; his ribs are still recovering from being broken in the Library.

“I am reminded that I am not as young as I once was.” he grunts, straightening up as he gets his second sock on. “Never get old. You don’t bounce back from this stuff nearly as fast as you do when you’re young.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a couple thousand years before I start getting creaky.” I say, bringing over the breakfast tray and setting it on his knees. His mobility’s been limited while he’s recovering, so we’ve been bringing him breakfast rather than making him walk all the way to the mess hall for it. “Nazka’s meeting with everyone today to go over their Library reports and bring them up to speed on upcoming assignments, so heads up on that; he’ll probably want to see you at some point today.”

“Thank the Rantheon. I’ve needed an excuse to get off bed rest.” he says, snagging up his fork and poking at the eggs and bacon on his tray. “Laying in bed all day while eating three square meals is going to do horrors for my figure.”

“Hey, you’ve been reading and writing reports, right?” I say, tapping his bare head. “Mental workouts burn calories too.”

“That’s nowhere near the calorie burn I’d get with my usual exercise. And it isn’t exercising the muscles that need to stay in shape.” he says, starting to cut up the sausage on his plate. “Hopefully the doctors at the HQ will be able to speed up my recovery. The infirmary’s done what they can, but there’s only so much you can do in a mobile care center.”

“You know you’re lucky to have survived that hit, right?” I remind him. “I read your report. She nailed you good, big guy. You’re lucky it was just broken ribs, and not a cracked skull or a broken spine.”

“I did not expect her to hit that hard.” Ironfist says around a mouthful of eggs. “Good night, she was something else. And all because I laid hands on her boyfriend. The two of them must be very close.”

“That's what Dare told me, first time he went up against Songbird.” I say, pulling up a chair to sit beside his bed. “Said that the Mask Knight was the problem, not Songbird. Of course, I saw what Songbird did at the Cradle, so I can confirm he’s definitely a problem, but I hear his girlfriend doesn’t slack either.”

“No sir, she does not.” he puffs. “I’ll certainly be giving her due consideration next time I encounter her. The two of them together are likely more than I could handle alone, and it was a mistake to think otherwise.”

“Eh, we’ll be there with you next time. Make sure you’re paired with a partner that won’t get riled and run off the way Onslaught did.” I assure him. “Speaking of which. How you feel about… all that?”

He grimaces, shaking his head. “I am not happy with it, obviously. But neither am I surprised. The way Onslaught lived, the way she went about things… it was just going to be a matter of time before she met her end. The girl didn’t care to be careful or take anyone else’s advice, and it ended about how you would expect it would. Honestly, I’m surprised she made it this long before taking the long walk.”

“Yeah, I’m right there with you.” I say, folding my arms and leaning back in the chair. “Didn’t give me any joy to see it happen, but it didn’t surprise me either. Not gonna lie, I feel a bit relieved now that we don’t have to deal with her anymore. Going on assignments with her was always more stressful than it was with other Peacekeepers.” I glance at him. “How quick do you think they’re going to fill her spot?”

Ironfist shrugs, although the motion is very, very limited, to avoid aggravating his ribs. “They’ll probably put up the posting once we’re back. A month, maybe two, and a few rounds of interviews with anyone that applies. If they really need someone in the position right away, they may fast-track the most qualified candidates.” He motions his fork at me. “You know what that means.”

I throw my head back and groan. “Recommendation letters. Great. I hate it when people ask me for those.”

“Do you dislike writing them, or dislike turning people down when you don’t feel you can give them a recommendation letter?” Ironfist asks.

“Both.” I grumble. “I hate telling people I can’t write them a letter because the implication is you don’t think they’re cut out for the job. Which they aren’t, sometimes. And then for the ones that you do agree to write the letter, it’s such a slog. I never know what to say. I know there’s templates out there that you can use, and I do use them, but my mind just blanks whenever I start filling them out.”

“Agreed. I also struggle with that.” he concurs, sipping from his milk. “I’ve never enjoyed writing resumes, cover letters, or recommendation letters. I understand they’re necessary for the purpose they serve, but they’re such a dry exercise. Lifeless and dull, all the way down.”

“Oh thank god I’m not the only one.” I sigh. “Here’s to hoping that whoever the new Peacekeeper is, they can measure up to what the Valiant are bringing to the table. I heard they’ve been recruiting, and they’ve been snatching up some big names recently. Hero types with a lot of brand recognition.”

“One can hope.” he says, spearing another sausage slice with his fork, then looks at me. “You’ve heard about Tirsigal, I assume?”

“Yup.” I say, tilting my head to look at him. “You?”

“I most certainly have.” he says heavily, chewing on his sausage. “I’ve been reading whatever the intelligence department has cleared for our rank on the matter. It’s given me something to do while I’m laid up on bed rest, but it hasn’t been pleasant reading. I’m no great fan of the Collective, but…” He lets out a dolorous sigh. “That’s a lot of dead Symbiotes.”

“Yeah.” I say quietly. “Well, maybe they’ll finally know how we feel whenever they assimilate one of our worlds.”

He glances at me, thumbing his jaw. “You have history with them, I presume.”

I shake my head. “No. At least, no more than any other person. But wereckanan, we live for a long time, and we have long memories. We see the patterns; we know how the Collective work, and most of us hate it. Creeping and spreading, slowly but surely, like rot working its way through a tree.”

He glances at the locked data slate on his bedside. “And you think they deserved this? The deaths of so many, the scorching of an entire world?”

“I’m not heartless, Ironfist.” I say, keeping my arms folded. “I know that most of the Symbiotes on Tirsigal were probably civilian. I know most of them had nothing to do with worlds like Mokasha, and Shi Morlan, and Anraim. I know most of them were probably just people living their lives. But that’s also the case with the worlds that the Collective assimilates. The people on those worlds are largely innocent people that never wanted to be involved in that kind of fight, and never asked to be assimilated. But it happened anyway, and there was nothing they could do about it.” I give those words a moment to rest and soak in the silence. “As individuals, the Symbiotes on Tirsigal never asked for this. As individuals, they didn’t deserve it. But someone has to pay the price for the worlds and the people that the Collective has assimilated. Their crimes cannot go unpunished, even if it means that you have to punish the innocent members of their nation. A message needed to be delivered; a point needed to be made. The Collective needed to be reminded that there are consequences for their actions.”

“Perhaps.” he says. “It it still a tragedy that so many innocent should have to die for that reason, though.”

“It’s a tragedy, yes. But the Collective have only themselves to blame for it.” I say, refusing to budge. “Hopefully they will take a hint and change their ways. I doubt they will, but one can always hope.”

“Do you have any insight into who may’ve been responsible for it?” Ironfist asks as he finishes corralling his sausage and eggs together.

“No idea. From what I’ve heard, intelligence agencies are still scratching their heads over it. Nobody seems to know how it happened or who might’ve been responsible for it.” I shrug. “Whoever or whatever it was, it was powerful. Would have to be a major nation or a gigacorp to have resources to pull off something like that; it wouldn’t have been a lone wolf or a fringe group. Regional disasters, ecological catastrophes — that’s something that terrorist groups could pull off. But complete planetary devastation? That’s big boy territory. You need coordination, resources, and a state apparatus for that.”

“If that is the case, then that means there is a nation-state actor out there with a worldkiller weapon. And that would violate Colloquium regulations.” Ironfist points out.

“Sure does. But you know that doesn’t stop people.” I say. “There’s always people out there that think the rules don't apply to them, or that think they have a good justification for breaking them. I’d bet you my tail that the Mercurial Consortium has a worldkiller weapon stashed away somewhere. Might even have multiple, knowing them. And the Venusian Monarchy — they’re so damn proud of their warrior culture that you just know they’ve got a worldkiller hidden somewhere in their arsenal. You know the Marshy Republic has one because they don’t want to be left out, and because they probably think they can build a better weapon of planetary destruction than all the other nations. The Confederacy of Original Systems… well, honestly, they might be the only major nation that doesn’t have a WPD stashed away somewhere. The Cyber Meritocracy, you know they definitely have one. The Rantecevang Diaspora — they don’t give a shit about Colloquium regulations, so I can guarantee you some of their colonies have some mad mages that have probably cooked up some weird, janky, magical WPD. The Viralix Empire, hell, they don’t even bother to hide it — they build their giant psi lasers into the cores of their starcities and fly the things around as a reminder not to mess with them.”

“And the Halfie Protectorate?” Ironfist points out, taking a sip of his milk once he’s finished everything on his tray, aside from the bacon.

I click my tongue. “That’s a good point. The Protectorate does actually play by the rules, don’t they. But all the others… nobody admits to it, but you know that some of them have worldkiller weapons. They just keep it quiet. Doesn’t matter that it’s against the rules; everyone wants insurance for a rainy day.”

“I’ve seen no indication in the reports so far that a nation-state actor was responsible. If they are, they’re hiding it quite well.” Ironfist says, offering his tray to me. “Bacon? It’s an unhealthy meat to be eating when you can’t leave bed. As a Calyri, I assume you would appreciate it.”

I shrug, taking the tray. “I won’t turn down some fresh bacon. It’s better than the stuff they were serving yesterday. You know they had the nerve to try and feed us turkey bacon?”

“Oh really? I hear that’s actually much healthier than pig bacon. Less fat, more protein. Better for building and maintaining muscle, at least compared to pig bacon.”

“Ew, no. The turkey bacon was flat as a ruler! And it was tough, like jerky or something! That shit’s unnatural, man.”

“I don’t know. That actually sounds interesting to me.”

“Ugh. Something’s wrong with you, big guy.”

 

 

 

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

C.V. Justice: Mess Hall

11:54am LST

“Quick question, what’s this turkey bacon club sandwich?” I ask, sizing up the menu behind the counter. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen that before. Looks new to me.”

“Oh, that’s something new. Chef threw it together because we had too much turkey bacon left over from yesterday.” the server behind the counter says. “You’re looking at a typical club sandwich, toasted on white or served on multigrain, lettuce, tomato, your choice of provolone or swiss, spicy mustard, sliced ham, and then the turkey has been substituted with turkey bacon. Makes it a little chewier, but really helps the overall experience in terms of texture. My personal recommendation is that you take it on toasted white instead of multigrain, since the multigrain is already pretty chewy to begin with.”

“Hmm.” I say thoughtfully. “Sure, why not. I’m feeling adventurous today.”

“One turkey club, coming up!” the server shouts back over his shoulder to the kitchen, while tapping at his screen. “Sides today are pasta salad, grape salad, and curly fries. If you’ve got the calories in your budget, go for the pasta salad or the curly fries.”

“Let’s pretend to be healthy.”

“Grape salad it is. Water to go with that?”

“Nah, I got my canteen today.”

“Great. We’ll have that out to you in a few. Next!”

I meander over to the wall where others are waiting for their orders to come out, pulling out my phone to check my messages while I wait. I haven’t gotten anything new recently, which isn’t really surprising — we’re in tunnelspace right now, so no comms will reach us here unless they’re traveling through a quantum-entangled comms array. And while the Justice does have one, it’s reserved for navigation and official priority communications only — civilian and non-work comms aren’t allowed to flow through that array. I could upgrade my phone to have it enabled with a quantum-entangled module, but it would be pricey and the monthly subscription for the service wasn’t exactly cheap.

Since I can’t communicate with anyone outside of the ship right now, I pull up my thread with Kwyn and start thumbing out a message to her. We hadn’t exactly been talking with each other much since Avvikerene, and we’d both been avoiding a conversation we needed to have, a conversation we’d have to have sooner or later. Problem was, I didn’t know how to have that conversation, and it was honestly a little scary — I didn’t know how to start the conversation, I didn’t know what I should say or how honest I should be, and I didn’t know what would happen afterwards. That uncertainty was paralyzing me, but it was only going to get worse the longer I put it off, so I needed to do something before it turned into an awkward chasm neither of us could bridge.

So I start simple, with punching out a message about something that was unrelated and could serve as a stepping stone to a longer conversation: How’d the meeting with Nazka go this morning? It checked all the right boxes — vague, innocent, indicated concern but wasn’t invasive, and was the sort of thing that could be asked by either a coworker or a close friend. I could measure her mood by her response, and see if it would be safe to go further, or pull back. Satisfied that it’s sufficiently normal, I send the message, lowering my phone and leaning back against the wall with a deep breath.

“Didn’t go as bad as I thought it would.” someone says beside me. “Was yours a bit rougher?”

I glance over, and jump when I find that Kwyn’s leaning back against the wall beside me.

“Gah! Kwyn!” I gasp, clutching a hand to my chest as my heart jumps to my throat. “Good… lord. I didn’t see you there, have you been here the entire time?”

She smiles a little. “I was right behind you in the line, yeah. I was going to say hi, but you looked like you were pretty focused on that text.”

“I uh, well, yeah. Didn’t want to be too nosy.” I stammer. “So, uhm. Your meeting with him went well, then?”

She shrugs. “It went okay. Wasn’t bad, wasn't great. Heard we’ll have another special assignment and might not be getting much downtime between deployments.”

I puff out a breath at that. “Yeah. Not a big fan, but I understand it. That’s just how it goes — sometimes assignments are back to back to back; other times, you’re sitting idle for a month or two.” I push off the wall when I hear my name called, and I move to the counter to collect my lunch container. Returning to where Kwyn is, I lean back against the wall, popping the paper container open to make sure they got the order right. “What did you order for lunch today?”

“That.” she says, nodding to my container.

I blink. “You ordered the same thing I did?”

“You ordered for both of us, didn’t you?” she says, blowing a lock of white hair out of her face.

It takes a moment to realize the game she’s playing. It’s been so long since someone’s flirted with me that I completely forgot what kind of flags and signs I was supposed to be looking for — not that I was ever great at picking them up in the first place. “Oh! Right, right, yeah, totally. Of course. So, you wanna eat in here, or…?”

“Let’s go somewhere else.” she says, pushing off the wall and heading for the doors of the mess hall. I assume she has somewhere in mind, and I follow along as she leads us back into the ship and its halls. From the track she’s taking, it looks like we’re headed towards the rear of the ship, where engineering and maintenance are headquartered, and that’s reflected in the composition and number of crew we see as we head in that direction. By the time Kwyn finally slows down and picks a hall for us to settle into, it’s been a couple minutes since we’ve seen anybody.

“This should do.” she says, sitting down on the floor, back against the wall. To our left, there’s an airlock for one of the cargo hatches. Through the reinforced glass in the center of the hatch, we can see the tangled, twisted web of tunnelspace outside, the black strands of dark matter backlit by the eerie green glow that permeates this dimension. “I come here when I want to be alone, but I’m tired of staying in my quarters. Not a lot of people spend time in the engineering and maintenance areas.”

“Makes sense.” I say, sitting beside her and opening the container. The club’s been quartered, as usual, and I pick up one of the quarters and offer it to her. “You doing okay after the whole Library thing?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t happy with the way it turned out, but I don’t think any of us were.” Kwyn says, taking the quarter. “I keep thinking about it, wondering if there was anything I could’ve done differently. I feel like there was more we could’ve done, but we just didn’t know what to do. The things you could’ve done differently seem obvious in retrospect, but when you’re in the middle of it, and you don’t have all the information and you’re trying to react to a changing situation…” She trails off, then takes a bite of the sandwich.

“Yeah. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty.” I say, picking up one of the quarters myself and taking a bite. “Think we did the best we could’ve in that situation. We didn’t show up expecting to pick a fight with a bunch of magical Librarians in a place that’ll turn you into a book if you die there. If we’d know that beforehand, things probably would’ve been a lot different.”

“What about you? Are you okay?” Kwyn asks, looking to me. “Seemed like you got pretty upset when Onslaught died.”

“I’m fine, I just… I didn’t like the way it went down. And the fact that we basically just gave up on it and ran, instead of finishing off the Librarian that killed her.” I mumble. “I hashed it out with Nazka earlier today. Went about as well as you’d expect it would.”

“Was she important to you?” Kwyn asks. “Onslaught, that is.”

“Onslaught? I mean no, not really. Pain in the ass, honestly.” I say, taking another careful bite of my sandwich. “But she was still a coworker. Still a Peacekeeper. Still a person that deserved a proper death, instead of having her soul trapped in a book for eternity. I mean, hell, we don’t even have a body we can give back to her relatives. They don’t have anything they can bury or cremate. That part bothered me. Still bothers me.”

“And you would’ve stayed to try and get back her book?” Kwyn says as she finishes chewing, then takes another bite.

“If Nazka had let us, yeah.” I say, wiping my mouth with one hand. “The rest of it, I could’ve let that go. We weren’t gonna beat the Valiant, with the way things were. And we probably weren’t gonna get the artifact back. But I think we could’ve at least stayed and fought for Onslaught’s book. Suppose we couldn’t really do that, since the entire Library just got up and moved, and we had to get out before it did. But if we could’ve stayed, I think we should’ve stayed long enough to get Onslaught’s book back.”

“Are you mad at me for holding you back?” Kwyn says, staring at me. “When you tried to go after that Librarian.”

“What? No, no no. I’m not mad at you.” I say quickly. “I know when you do something, you have a reason for doing it. I trust you. Besides, Nazka told me why he didn’t want to finish off that Librarian. The thing where you can’t really kill Librarians, since they’re living books and they’ll just come back to life after they die.”

“I mean, that’s not why I was trying to stop you.” Kwyn says. “I was worried about you. I saw him kill Onslaught; I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“Oh.” I say, lowering the last little chunk of my sandwich. “You were… trying to protect me?”

She shrugs and takes a bite of her sandwich, looking abashed. “Sounds kinda stupid, saying it out loud like that. Onslaught only had the basic armor, while you had a full suit of power armor on, so it’s not like he could’ve snapped your neck like he did with Onslaught. But I was worried he’d do something else. Librarians have a lot of magic at their disposal, and that Librarian felt powerful, way more powerful than the other Librarians we encountered.”

“Really?” I say, perplexed. “I couldn’t tell any difference. How did you know?”

“I could sense it. Feel it. It’s a something I’ve been able to do since I was a kid.” she says quietly. “The sensation is hard to explain, but it’s like… heat. The way you pass your hand over a stovetop, and you can feel the heat coming off it? Or the way you can feel the heat from a bonfire even when you’re standing twenty feet away. It’s like that.”

“So to you, everyone’s got a certain kind of temperature you can sense?” I say, sticking the rest of my sandwich quarter in my mouth.

“Well, it isn’t actually heat; it’s just similar to heat in that it’s a sensation that I can feel and gauge based on intensity and distance.” she clarifies. “For most people, the output is low, and then it spikes up when they’re actively using magic. If they’re using magic, it’s easier for me to sense them further away; if they’re not, I have to be closer to sense that they have magical power or ability. The passive baseline is usually pretty low. But every now and then I come across people or creatures that are just humming with power, and you can feel it from two rooms over even when they’re not doing anything. That’s what Sundew was like, and the Librarian that killed Onslaught felt similar to that.”

“Ah. So that’s why you held me back.” I say, picking up another sandwich quarter. “You were trying to stop me from biting off more than I could chew.”

Kwyn shrugs. “I dunno. I could’ve been wrong, or just paranoid. He did look pretty weak after he got shot, and it’s not like he busted out any big spells or powers after that. Maybe we could’ve taken him after he killed Onslaught, I dunno. All I know is that whatever he had, I could feel it clear across the room even when he wasn’t doing anything. It reminded me of Sundew, and I panicked a bit.” She ends with mumbling a quiet little “sorry” past her sandwich as she takes another bite.

I shake my head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Kwyn. Like I said earlier — when you do something, I know you have a reason for it. I know you don’t really have much in the way of ulterior motives; that’s why I trust you.” I take a bite from my sandwich, and since the topic’s been brought up, I figure I might as well try to tackle it now. “Are you, uh. Doing okay? After… y’know. Avvikerene.”

Her golden eyes dart to me, then away. “It’s been…” She swallows hard, resting her forearms on her bent knees. “Do you ever wish there were things you never found out? Things you never learned?”

I puff out a breath, nodding at that. “Yeah.” I say quietly, studying my sandwich. “Some things about yourself that you would’ve been better off not knowing. Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Kwyn nods wordlessly, taking another bite of her sandwich and chewing slowly. It’s only once she’s swallowed that she speaks again. “I just… don’t like the idea that I’m not the person I thought I was. You get so used to thinking of yourself a certain way, thinking that you’re a certain type of person, and then you get a look in the mirror, and you’re not actually that person. You’re not… normal.” Her voice fades down until it’s almost a whisper at the end.

“Normal, as in…?” I ask, glancing at her.

“Y’know, normal. A girl that wants a spouse, a couple of children, picket fence with a three-bed two-bathroom house and… all that stuff.” she says around a mouthful of sandwich, gesturing vaguely. “Instead, I’m an indecisive mess that can’t settle on anything and because I can’t settle on anything, I guess I just want everything, and, and…” She trails off, seems to deflate, and out of nowhere: “I made out with Whisper last month. I’m sorry. I know she’s your best friend, and I didn’t mean to do it; it just… it just happened. I liked it. Gods, I enjoyed it so much, but I knew it was wrong, and it’s just been eating me alive for the last—”

“Kwyn.” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

She stares blankly up at me. “You’re not… mad?”

I set down my sandwich. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Whisper: you two are adults. It’s not my job to tell you two what you can and can’t do. I’m not her boss and I’m certainly not your boss, so if that’s something the two of you want to do, something that you want to pursue, something that makes you happy, you’re free to do so.”

“But what about you?” she blurts out.

I give a lazy shrug. “That’s just the way life is sometimes. You do the best you can with the hand you’ve been dealt. You don’t need to worry about me; I’ll survive.”

She just keeps staring at me as I pick up my half-eaten quarter again, and when she doesn’t stop staring, I glance at her. “You okay?”

“But didn’t you… don’t you…” she says, confused.

“Yeah, I like you. But things don’t always work out, and that’s okay.” I say, pausing to pull the toothpick out of my sandwich. “If you wanna chase Whisper, I’m not gonna resent you for that. A lot of people would chase her; it’s not really a surprise.”

I go to take a bite of my sandwich, only to find Kwyn grabbing the front of my uniform. I glance down, then find myself pulled to the side, putting me on eye level with her as she fixes her golden gaze on me. “I like you, you dense clod.”

My mind goes blank. “What?”

“I like you. Isn’t that obvious?” she demands.

I try to form a sentence, my mouth hanging open stupidly. “But… you and Whisper…”

“Weren’t you listening earlier? I told you that I wasn’t normal. That I was indecisive, that I couldn’t settle on anything, and so I wanted everything.” She pauses a moment to let that sink in, her eyes searching me. “I was talking about you and Whisper. I don’t want to choose. I want it all. I want both of you.”

I don’t have a ready response for that. “I— don’t understand, I thought—”

Her grip on my shirt tightens, and she tugs me a bit closer as she leans in, pulling me into a kiss. For a second it feels like my heart stops; I hadn’t been expecting this, and it’s been so long that I almost don’t know what to do. But her lips are warm and soft, and a part of me that’s been long suppressed remembers that I’ve wanted this. That I’ve been craving it. That’s when the instincts kick in, and I return her kiss with as much enthusiasm as it’s being given. She doesn’t hesitate to pull me into another one immediately afterwards, hooking a hand around the back of my neck as she steals my breath yet again, and my half-eaten sandwich is promptly abandoned in favor of pulling her closer to me. When we finally break off to catch our breath a moment later, she doesn’t pull away.

“Do you understand now?” she murmurs, her warm words spilling over my lips. There’s a heat in her eyes that’s infectious, glowing like molten gold, and I have absolutely no resistance to it. Even if her question’s rhetorical, I answer it, and I answer it without words, pulling her into another kiss as my fingers curl into the shoulder of her jacket.

It’s only when we hear the sound of footsteps that we break apart again, though one of the maintenance crew walks into view before we can fully pull away from each other. He slows down when he sees us, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth as if he was about to snark out a one-liner or whistle, but the way Kwyn’s staring at him could burn a hole through his skull and a few walls behind him. That imperial glare, golden and moribund, has him reconsidering the wisdom of opening his mouth, and he moves on without a word, pulling his mop and bucket with him. As he footsteps slowly fade down the hall, Kwyn slowly relaxes, her nose brushing against mine as she turns back to me.

“Sorry.” she mumbles, her eyes tilted down. “I shouldn’t have—”

I reach up to touch her cheek, resting a thumb on her lips before she can go on. “If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have kissed you back.” I say softly.

Her eyes flick back up to me, then flutter shut as she lets her head hang forward, resting against mine. Her lips move against my thumb, planting a kiss there, before she lets out a sigh. “I’m a mess.” she murmurs with resignation of someone accepting something they hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

“Yeah. Maybe.” I say, moving my hand along her cheek to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “But you’re our mess.” When she opens her eyes to look up at me, I clarify. “Mine and Whisper’s mess.”

That seems to take her concern away, and she leans her head against my hand. “Where do we go from here? What… what are we?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what we are. What any of this is supposed to look like.” I admit, feeling the uncertainty creep back in. “You, me, and Whisper… I don’t know how this is supposed to work. I think it can work?… I just don’t know how. It’s not anything I have experience with, so I really don’t know what it’s supposed to look like.”

“We can learn.” Kwyn says quickly. “Other people make it work, and they’ve written books about it. We can do some research, figure out how they make it work, and see what works for us.”

“Really? You think that would work?” I say, finding myself lost in her earnest eyes again; those rings of molten gold in the shadow of blizzard-white hair. I feel like I’m being devoured by her attention, and I never want it to end. “I mean, I dunno if Whisper would be open to it…”

“Then we’ll ask her.” It comes without hesitation, without doubt. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be open to it. She might even have some ideas on how to make it work, since she’s centuries older than both of us.”

I open my mouth, then close it, mulling that over. “…that is a good point. I always forget that she’s six hundred years old.”

“Well, she doesn’t act like it.” Kwyn reasons.

“Or maybe she does. Six hundred is young for a Calyri, after all.” I point out.

She bites her lip, holding in a soft giggle. “Yeah. I have a feeling she wouldn’t like being called old.” Her hand leaves the back of my neck, moving around to trace her fingers over my lips. “I liked this. Let’s do this again soon… but without the turkey bacon next time.”

I had a ready reply until that last part, at which point I can only look down and chuckle as I run a hand over my mouth. “Yeah, isn’t exactly the best flavor for a first kiss, is it…”

“I wanted to wait, but you were trying to write yourself off! I didn’t know how else to get it through your head that I like you!”

“I mean, fair enough, I’m not sure the message would’ve gotten through otherwise…”

 

 

 

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

The Dreaming

11:15pm SGT

I blink, realizing that I’m staring at my reflection in the liquid below me.

“There you are. I was wondering how long it would take you to find your way back here.” comes a familiar voice. Looking up, I can see I’m sitting at bar in a tavern, with a bald, muscular islander standing behind it, tattoo winding over one of his arms. It isn’t much longer before the memories click and I recognize Rotenga, and realize that I’m in the Spark tavern.

“Wait, was I… was I trying to find my way back here?” I say, turning on the stool I’m sitting on. The tavern looks mostly empty today.

“Doesn’t seem like you were trying to end up here on purpose, but you were definitely looking for us.” comes a voice on my other side, and I’m startled by a hand clapping on my back. Even though I have an idea of who it is, I still turn to see Gazelle sitting on the stool beside me, grinning widely with her vampire incisors on display. “Look who scored! First base with the shy little lady! Well done, sport!”

“First… what?” I say, a little confused.

“Really? You don’t know what that is? Has baseball as a sport finally died out?” Gazelle says, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of her drink. “About damn time. Boring-ass sport, it’s a wonder it survived as long as it did.”

“Wait, how did you — how did you know about me and Kwyn?” I demand as her words finally process. “Were you all spying on us?”

“We are aware of certain things that take up the current Spark-holder’s attention.” Rotenga explains, pouring a drink for one of the other echoes that’s come to the bar. “Your conundrum with your lady friends has been weighing heavily on your mind, and so we are aware of it.”

The embarrassment immediately sets in. “Should I just operate under the assumption that my life is no longer private?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my face. “Are you guys gonna be watching whenever I go on a date or take someone to bed?”

“We will not be watching every moment of your life, but we will be aware of general happenings or consequential moments.” Rotenga explains, returning to my portion of the bar. “A Spark requires that awareness in order to be able to help and intervene in certain situations.”

“The price of power.” Gazelle grins, taking a swig from her drink. “Being able to access all the skills, knowledge, and powers of previous holders means that you have to put up with the peanut gallery and let us have a peek at your affairs when we want.” She slings an arm around my shoulders, raising her drink up. “You’re stuck with us. Cheers~”

“If I’d known this was what I’d have to deal with, I would’ve thought twice before accepting it.” I mutter. “So is that why I’m here? You all can actually help with my current… situation?”

“There are a couple of echoes here that could offer their experience, yes.” Rotenga answers. “But that is not the primary reason you’re here. There is much unrest in the galaxy with the cleansing of Tirsigal.”

“Wait, you know about that?” I say, taking Gazelle’s arm off my shoulders. “Wait, of course you do. You just told me you know everything I do, so it stands to reason…”

“We know about it because you know about it, but we also know about it because it’s a big deal and it’s caused ripples in a lot of different places.” Gazelle says, bracing her forearms on the counter. “And we can tell you right now, it’s not a nation or gigacorp that’s responsible for it.”

“Wait, it isn’t? How do you know that?” I demand, straightening up on my stool.

“Sparks are privy to certain things.” Rotenga replies, pulling up a stool behind the bar so he can sit on it. “There are others who are being sent to handle the person responsible for Tirsigal. But should those individuals fail, it may fall to you, and other Sparks, to step in and handle the matter.”

“Wait, me? And other Sparks?” I say, looking between the two of them. “Wait, wait wait wait. I thought this was… nobody told me that Sparks would get assignments.”

“They don’t. Most times.” Gazelle says, planting her head on a curled fist as she stares sideways at me. “We’re usually left to our own devices. To frolic along and do whatever the hell we want. But every now and then, an order comes down from the Ember. And the Sparks are expected to answer the call.”

“Before you ask, the Ember is the individual that created the Sparks.” Rotenga says, answering my unspoken question. “The Ember gave us this power. And in return, we are to answer the call whenever it comes.”

“The price of power.” Gazelle says again, raising her drink. “Thankfully, the Ember doesn’t ring that bell all too often. It’s only… what, once every thousand years or so?”

“In times of need. Entire generations of Sparks can pass by without ever receiving a call from the Ember.” Rotenga says, lacing his fingers together.

“Look, that’s great and all, but I can’t just run off if this Ember thing tells me to.” I protest. “I have a job; I’m a Peacekeeper that helps maintain stability in the galaxy. And there’s going to be a critical assignment coming up soon that I’ll probably be deployed for. I have responsibilities; I can’t just get up and run off to do something else.”

“Relax, chickadee.” Gazelle says, waving off my protest. “You haven’t gotten the call yet, and you might not get it at all. We’re just saying that it could happen, and if it does, you need to be ready to answer it.”

“And you said other Sparks would get the call too?” I ask, still feeling uncertain about all of this. “So people like… Songbird and Jackrabbit?”

“When the call goes out, it goes out to all Sparks, yes.” Rotenga confirms. “Friend or foe, it does not matter. When the Ember has a request, Sparks work together.”

I rub my wrist against my chin, thinking that over. Working with Songbird… I just couldn’t imagine it. “You said there was a person responsible for happened on Tirsigal? Just a single person?”

“Just a single person, yes. And I know what you are about to ask.” Rotenga says, fixing his gaze on me. “And my answer is: is that really a question you want the answer to? Knowledge comes with responsibility. The more you know of a matter, the greater your obligation to it.”

I scowl at that, then glance at Gazelle, who shrugs. “Don’t look at me, champ. You’re the one with a conscience. You know how much it’s gonna bother you if we tell you who burned Tirsigal. Besides, there are already people that are handling it, and you’ll only need to know if they screw things up. Why don’t you ask us about something that’ll actually help you, like how to manage a three-way relationship?”

I let out a sigh, leaning on the counter. “…this isn’t a joke, right? You can actually help me with that?”

“Well not me specifically. I’ve been told I give horrible relationship advice. But some of the other echoes here can definitely give you some pointers.”

“Fine, sure. Why not.”

“Just for the record, the purpose of a Spark is not to dispense relationship advice or act as personal therapist. This mantle has a higher purpose and responsibility than that, though it does not preclude us from dispensing counsel as the situation demands.”

“Oh, shut it, Rotenga. The boy’s confused and he could do with some guidance from people that have been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Besides, what’s the point of us being here if we’re just gonna sit on our hands when we could be helping instead? Just because it isn’t some glorious endeavor doesn't mean we can’t give him a hand.”

“…very well. I suppose there is no harm in dispensing a little life advice.”

“There’s a sensible man. Alright, let’s see… hey Chandra, you mind coming over here for a bit? The new kid’s got some questions about handling a three-way relationship!…”

 

 

 

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