"Mmm-mm-hmmm...mmmm-hmmm..."
Cecilia worked the tights up one leg, then the other, and let go all at once. The fabric snapped gently into place, giving her legs a bit more color. She hummed to herself, tugging here and there until everything felt right.
She reached for the skirt beside her and slipped it on without much fuss. Once she stood, Cecilia tucked her long-sleeved black top neatly into it.
"Finally."
Cecilia fished a short jacket out of a store-brand bag near her feet. It was light brown, slightly loose and ended right at her waist.
A darker lining peeked through once she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
She sat back down and pulled on a pair of burgundy socks. After a brief moment to breathe, she slipped into her lace-up shoes and tied them.
Lightly polished, of course.
Krn.
Cecilia's head snapped toward the door.
Ikade stood in the doorway with her phone raised, covering half her face while the door slowly crept open.
"Who's this troublemaker? Mhm?"
The words came out teasing, a cheeky smile obvious even with the phone covering her face.
Tik—tik—!
The camera flashes went off before Cecilia could react, bright enough to make her flinch.
"Oi."
Cecilia rubbed at her eyes and headed into the living room, where she found Ikade rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out whatever looked edible.
Between the two of them, it took maybe twenty minutes to throw together a quick breakfast. Nothing fancy, but still delicious enough to satisfy them.
"Hh—fuu...I feel stuffed."
Her words might as well have come from both of them.
Cecilia washed it down with a little wine they had bought the day before, just enough to leave her pleasantly warm. Ikade, meanwhile, stuck to juice, curled comfortably in her chair in a tee a size too big, with shorts peeking out from beneath it.
"When are you coming back?"
Ikade asked lazily.
Both of them stared at the twin screens hovering above the bracelet resting on the table. One played a movie Cecilia was not really watching anymore.
The other showed the forecast.
A sandstorm.
Sixty percent chance of reaching them within the next couple of days.
"In a couple hours."
Cecilia answered, a little more focused on digesting than talking.
"Are you sure I can't come?"
The question went in one ear and out the other.
"Yup."
Standing up, Cecilia picked up her bracelet and slipped it back onto her wrist, then headed for the door.
"Let's leave it to a coin next time, kay? Ciao~"
She waved lazily and opened the door, her purse hanging from one hand. Behind her, a soft, wounded "boo" drifted from Ikade's lips.
Outside the room, Cecilia lifted her wrist and logged in.
The map appeared a moment later, her destination sitting near the end of the vessel, tucked into one of the middle decks.
"Hm…mmm…hm…"
Within the first minute of walking, she started humming a tune she remembered.
She moved on autopilot, dipping her hand into her purse and fishing out her earbuds. The moment the second one slid into place, they connected with her bracelet, and the same tune she had been humming filled her ears.
The song was simple.
A steady drumbeat, a lone guitar, and vocals from a young man.
Not sad. Not cheerful either.
It rode along with the thump of her heart and the rhythm of her steps.
The corridors were mostly empty.
The occasional worker passed her, along with someone jogging with a light sheen of sweat. Otherwise, only the vessel's hum kept her company. Maybe the first time she traveled in one of these, it would have annoyed her.
By now, she had long since filtered it out.
Maybe it was the day.
Maybe it was the chemicals in her head doing their thing—dopamine, serotonin, or endorphins her brain had decided to bless her with. Whatever it was, Cecilia felt like moving.
From the small shake of her head to the lazy sway of her arms, it almost felt like she had stepped into some animated music video only she could see.
A few people stared but she did not care.
She passed through long, empty corridors, walked by a small scuffle and slipped past the vending machines scattered about. Stairwells of every shape and size carried her up and down without much thought.
Cecilia hummed without stopping.
At some point, she found herself calling for an elevator, staring at the display overhead while the number ticked down toward her floor.
Ding~!
The doors slid open, and she stepped inside.
Turning around, Cecilia pulled a simple card from her purse and flipped it between her fingers. A series of numbers were engraved into it.
She hesitated for half a second, then pressed the matching buttons one by one.
The doors closed.
Her small movements resumed, from the faint sway of her shoulders to her fingers tapping against her skirt.
She softly exhaled when the numbers above the doors began dropping fast. Her body sank with the elevator, carrying her past floor after floor until it stopped hard enough to make the lights flicker.
—pssh…chk—!
The music dipped suddenly, returning at a lower volume, distorted with faint interference.
Her fingers stopped tapping against her skirt.
The small smile on her face faded soon after.
By the time the doors opened, her eyes had already slipped back into their usual half-lidded state.
Cecilia stepped out into the elevator lobby.
The lighting here ran warmer than the corridors above. The hum of the vessel was louder than her flickering music, so Cecilia pulled her earbuds free and tucked them into her purse.
A few people loitered nearby, dressed in their own mismatched getups. No one spared anyone else a glance.
Neither did she.
She passed them without a word, moving beyond the short hallways branching off on either side, where the rest of the elevators waited, and headed straight for the double doors ahead.
With a push, the doors swung open.
Cecilia squinted against the sudden wash of light.
No.
It was only a little brighter.
Warm light stretched across the floor like a window.
She blinked a few times and let the scene settle into focus. The people gathered beyond the doors filled her sight with color.
To her immediate left sat the front desk, angled slightly away from the entrance. Behind it stretched the event lounge, already alive with chatter. Groups lounged wherever they could, some dressed in elaborate outfits, others in plain everyday clothes not so different from hers.
Cecilia approached the desk, pulled the same card from her purse and slid it toward the man behind the laptop, where they exchanged a couple words.
He returned the card with a lanyard, which she looped around her neck without much fuss.
Beyond the next set of doors, blue light covered nearly everything.
The lights overhead formed a blue-and-white checkerboard, leaving a calm glow across the room. The vessel's hum was more prominent here than anywhere else. Metal beams and fire sprinklers remained exposed above, with a circular LED hanging at the center like a watchful eye.
To anyone else, to everyone already inside and everyone who would walk in after her, it was just a simple get-together.
A room full of like-minded people.
Cecilia wandered farther inside without really noticing. Her gaze moved across the many islands scattered throughout the space. Some were already exposed; others remained buried under white cloth, hiding whatever props waited underneath.
...It's been a while since I've been to one of these. The last time was...
Right before I left for the colonies.
To her left, a small group was already deep into their setup, shifting mock crates, pallets, and bits of cover into place. It looked like a frozen moment from a fight. Battered mannequins had been placed haphazardly around the area, with one leaning into a half-built column.
Then there were people like her, who had only come to check things out.
Nope. I definitely didn't come here because three weeks on this thing was driving me insane.
Cecilia kept moving, tossing glances at island after island as she passed. Eventually, she reached the far wall and took a left.
Straight toward her group's section, where the bass was strong enough to feel in her chest.
Their island resembled a concrete and stone ruin, framed by three wooden archways—two along one side and the third behind her. A large opening broke through the false ceiling overhead, surrounded by several smaller ones covered in wire mesh.
She moved closer and watched her acquaintances lift more props into place. One carried two crates to the wall, removed the top one and snapped it open to reveal nothing but foam.
The lighting high above split the room cleanly in half, blue on one side and white on the other, casting hard lines across the floor.
The wooden frame in the center was as fake as the building itself, though the interior sold the illusion well enough.
With a small shake of her head, Cecilia found herself standing in front of a large shipping crate planted atop a slim trolley.
She tuned out the surrounding conversation and reached for the combination lock, spinning the numbers until it gave way.
Cecilia wedged her fingers beneath the lid and lifted it all the way. She pulled a simple pole from inside and used it to keep the crate open.
The overhead lighting was just enough to catch on what lay inside.
Her belongings, packed like fiskaz in tin, reflecting the blue light.
Compunction.
Cecilia smothered the feeling before it could take shape, but it sank deep into her stomach, the guilt churning and sloshing until she felt sick.
Cecilia stared into the crate.
Then kept staring.
The overhead lights caught on the pieces inside, glinting off the worn edges and highlighting old scratches and dents.
Her most prized tools.
…haa.
With a sigh, she wrapped both arms around it and pulled. The weight dragged against her shoulders immediately, forcing her to adjust her stance before leaning it against the crate.
So damn heavy! fuu—like this? Or like this?
Cecilia played with its placement for a minute until it finally looked right.
She wiped her fingerprints from the surface before turning back to the crate.
The rest of her firearms sat side by side in their own cases, two of them linked by a single looping wire, with two empty slots left beside them.
Cecilia tilted her head and counted them with her finger.
It's a lot less?…No, right?
On the lid hung a half-filled backpack, abused to no end.
Leaning in, she grabbed her micro from the back of the crate, wedged between a firearm case and the inner wall.
She braced one hand against the edge and tugged it free.
tap—tap.
Cecilia turned, adjusting the idle look on her face into open confusion before she faced whoever had tapped her shoulder.
A caprinae man stood there, one hand half-raised.
"Sorry. You busy?"
Cecilia blinked once, then glanced down at the small rig in her hands.
"Hm? Need something?"
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the rest of their small group. Some sat, some stood, gathered around a prop half-buried in a box being built.
"You, uh...wanna sit with us for a bit? We're just comparing setups. Figured I'd ask if you wanted in."
"Ah..."
She looked past him, then back at the crate.
Should I? I've got nothing better to do.
"Sure. Why not?"
The man gave a quick nod and walked back with a small smile.
Cecilia glanced down at the little rig in her hands, shrugged and took a few brisk steps toward the gathering. Their soft conversations slowly became clearer as she approached.
"…managed to find one, so now he's all mine."
She had no idea what that meant.
She dropped into an empty chair and let herself slump, setting the small bag on her lap before unzipping it.
"What about you?"
Cecilia looked up.
A few curious glances had turned her way. Her ears perked slightly, waiting for the rest of the question.
"Bring anything interesting?"
The speaker nodded toward her crate of goodies, pausing briefly on the piece leaning against it.
Cecilia sifted through her memories, deeper and deeper, until old faces started gathering at the edge of her mind. Their outfits, their voices.
At the same time, she opened the pouch and glanced inside—a pair of rubber gloves, spare batteries, tape.
Miscellaneous.
...Should I tell them? It's not like we'll ever see each other again after today. We're just strangers.
Strangers...
Her fingers slowed inside the pouch.
So why can't I tell Ikade?
Cecilia's shoulders sank slightly before she pulled them back up.
"Let me see…" Cecilia murmured. "I was in Sabahran a few years ago. Twenty? Twenty-two-ish? Somewhere around there?"
The group went quiet and the shadows around her stared at her with a myriad of colors.
Numerous like the dog-tags bundled inside the micro.
"We had just finished this one job, the usual before heading out for one of the nearby cities to resupply." Her fingers tapped lightly against the pouch. "There was this merchant near one of the markets. At least, I think he was a merchant."
A faint smile tugged at her mouth.
"He had it sitting out. Nearly stripped inside out, actually. Whoever owned it clearly had no idea what they were looking at 'cause it was in terrible shape."
"I had medical supplies to spare at the time..." She scratched her cheek, heat rising from her fingertips to her face. "So I traded for it, thinking on it now...it wasn't very smart, with everything that was going on back then."
"Worked out so well I ended up hunting down something like it later. Spare parts, mostly." Her eyes drifted away. "Went into debt for a bit, though. Heheh..."
"You traded supplies for something that barely worked?"
Cecilia's faint smile strained at the edges.
"It works now, doesn't it?"
A few laughs broke through the group, taking some of the attention off her.
A feline raised their hand.
"Mhm?"
"You don't carry them, do you? I mean, by hand."
"Huh? Oh, no no."
She let out a small laugh through her nose.
"I'm not that strong, y'know? Without it, there's no way I'm dragging one around by myself. Let alone two."
"I'd just burn my hand even if I tried. I'd probably be using something else."
Her voice stayed light enough to keep the mood from sinking again.
She settled into the atmosphere a little more, then pointed toward a large man squeezed into a chair clearly too small for him. His gray hair contrasted sharply with the dark, fluffy ears perched atop his head.
"What about you? What've you got?"
"Me?"
His voice came out rough but measured, like he thought about every word before letting it go. The graying beard on his face made him look even more like a mountain pretending to be a person.
He pointed toward a metal crate off to the side, its sidewall lowered like a ramp. A few straps poked out over the edge.
"Nothing special. Just a regular one. No flashy stuff." He crossed his arms and leaned back, making the chair complain beneath him. "Bit old, though. My father passed it down to me back in Usegal, right after he retired from the commission."
He shrugged.
"I just carry mine."
A couple of minutes later, the mood eased into easier chatter. R
andom, useless things.
The kind of talk that only sounded pointless until someone stopped and the silence reminded everyone why they had gathered in the first place.
A few drinks came and went, leaving Cecilia tipsy with a warm weight blooming in her chest, but not enough to dull her thoughts.
Little by little, the past left her alone.
Smaller groups eventually split off into their own corners. Conversation drifted toward plans, routes and whatever everyone wanted to show off before the day ended. Cecilia mostly listened, laughed under her breath and goofed around with the others.
"——i've got one too—pretty good, right?"
"Mhmhm. It carries some magazines, a walkie talkie and a few other things—my pistol too, obviously."
Cecilia stood beside her crate of tools, holding the small rig before hooking it over the corner of the lid.
"Pretty worn down though."
She grabbed the grip and pulled sideways, revealing her heavily used pistol. Its body was satin black, fitted with dark, scaled wood grip panels.
"My eleven ninty-onee—"
GRNN—KRAAAM! shrr—clang—!
A harsh sound.
The first jolt threw Cecilia into the crate. The pole skipped free from beneath the lid right when she reached out to catch herself.
The lid slammed down on her hand.
Pain exploded through her hand, trapped between two unforgiving surfaces.
"Fuck—!"
She yanked it free, her fingers curling tight around her pistol.
Everything and everyone went off balance at once.
The floor lurched to one side, like the whole landship had sunk into a ditch and decided to stay there.
Yet it kept pushing forward without a care.
Metal beams groaned overhead. The lights flickered wildly while yells and shouts broke loose around her.
Then the floor jumped.
Cecilia barely caught herself, her shoes scraping hard against the ground.
The floor shook again.
Her weight shifted with it, and then—there was nothing left to brace against. She dropped hard onto her ass with a sharp exhale, the impact running straight up her spine.
The lights cut out.
Blackness swallowed the room in an instant, leaving only faint outlines and vague shapes of stumbling people. Cecilia blinked, her eyes swimming through the dark while her ears rang from the sound of metal grinding somewhere beyond the walls.
She squinted through the dim afterimage of where everyone had been only a second ago.
For a moment, all she could do was sit there with her heart pounding, waiting to see if the ground was going to move again.
But it never came.
For what felt like several minutes, they all waited in the dark without moving.
Flick!
Like a breaker switching, dim orange lights appeared along the walls and washed the area in a cautious film. They came on unevenly—some steady, others flickering with a quiet pitter-patter.
Cecilia forced her expression back to neutral and stood beside the crate. She curled her injured fingers once, then made a small pressing gesture.
A ring of light shone from her bracelet, illuminating her surroundings in white.
Then a broken voice rang around them.
「—nnouncement—please remain—...—encoun...a—hurd...e—」
The smaller groups slowly gathered into a single mass, save for a few outliers.
Cecilia included.
She slid the pistol into the holster inside the small rig.
Welp. Guess I got my hopes up for nothing. So much for talking shop.
With that, she tried calling Ikade. Again. Then four more times. Each failure tightened the knot in her chest.
Seriously? Now? Now!?
After the final attempt, she exhaled sharply and lifted the crate lid despite the sting running through her fingers. She wedged the pole beneath it again, then returned the large piece to the crate, its metal body clinking against the wooden walls.
C'mon—pick up the damn call. Just once. I'm not asking for a miracle here and I could really use you right now!
She complained under her breath, tapping her heel against the floor.
When that got her nowhere, she switched to messaging instead. Her fingers moved quickly through the floating screen above her bracelet, where nothing waited except their previous talks.
With a small sigh, she sent the message and leaned against the crate's edge. Light from her bracelet cast unsteady shadows around her.
A landship slams itself half into fuckall, everything goes dark, and I'm stuck here playing patient. Just my luck.
Cecilia looked down at the small chest rig and tuned out the chatter around her. She picked it up, turned it sideways and set it back inside the crate.
Then she grabbed her pistol along with a magazine.
She turned the magazine in her hand, counting out nine rounds.
After a short fumble, she seated the magazine and gave it a firm tap. With the muzzle angled downward, Cecilia hooked her palm over the red dot and drew the slide back.
A quick press check followed next.
Cecilia eased the slide forward but kept staring at the pistol. The pain in her fingers pulsed beneath her grip.
Cecilia stood, removed the pole and guided the lid shut. Once it settled, she secured the crate and gave each lock a firm tug.
I'll just send it back to the cargo deck…carrying all of this the whole time sounds miserable.
Cecilia looked down at her hands, only then noticing the holster hanging from one of them.
She placed the pistol flat against the crate, reached behind herself and fastened the holster against the small of her back. After giving it a firm tug, she picked the pistol back up and slid it inside.
Her jacket fell over it, concealing the weapon.
Cecilia turned toward the scattered lights from phones and bracelets. Their glow cast long shadows across the island. More automated trolleys had appeared, each stacked with boxes or crates being gathered up.
By the time she looked up again, she was back with the group, purse in hand.
"It's just us four, right? No one else is putting their stuff away?"
A feline spoke up, now fully geared and leaning against a trolley. Including Cecilia, there were two men and two women, each of a different race.
"Mhmm."
"Yeah."
The third only nodded.
"Alright then."
It seemed he had become the impromptu lead.
As Cecilia walked through the archway, she glanced over her shoulder, watching her trolley follow behind her while the others did the same.
The interior beyond lay beneath a muted film of cautious lighting. People covered the floor, their strides purposeful, with flashes of white light beaming from phones and bracelets.
Then.
BEEP-BEEP—BEEP!
Cecilia snapped her head toward the blaring siren.
White and orange light bounced off the surrounding islands and straight into her eyes.
The four of them navigated the maze of islands. Around them, people stripped down their props and gathered their gear, a mess of different expressions passing from face to face.
Cecilia's face did not change at all.
She raised her wrist, unlocked her bracelet, and checked her messages.
Three small dots bounced in sequence before her eyes narrowed.
She glanced up to make sure she was still with the group, then looked back down when her bracelet chimed.
All she got was a simple thumbs-up from Ikade.
Ikade, use your damn words. That tells me nothing.
A few dozen steps later, she found herself pushing through the crowd gathered in front of a lift, where the siren was loud enough to rattle inside her head. Her group was far from the only one with the same idea.
Klng—klng—klng—klng—!
It sounded like something heavy grinding its way down a rail.
Cecilia looked up just in time to see the lift sliding down the wall toward them, its chassis shuddering while it screamed against the guides. The sirens flared again, white and orange light washing over the crowd until the alarms overlapped one another.
The lift slowed, metal protesting every inch of the way.
Hazard tape marked off a wide section of the floor, cutting a clean boundary just short of where the platform would stop. People instinctively pulled back, soles scraping against the floor.
Once it reached ground level, the platform sank into the recess under it.
Until its surface sat flush with the surrounding floor.
Shrr—clnk.
Bang!