Arthur stood on the Outpost platform as the AZX train hissed to a stop, steam billowing from the undercarriage. The familiar cheerful voice called out before the doors had fully opened.
"Commander Cousland! Right on schedule!"
Diesel bounded down the steps, her brown hair bouncing, a paper bag of strawberry candies already in hand. She pressed one into Arthur's palm with the enthusiasm of a child sharing treasure. "I heard you wanted to meet the rest of the crew?"
"If they have time," Arthur replied, unwrapping the candy. "I've been riding this line for a while now and only ever see you."
"Oh, they'll make time. Come on!" Diesel grabbed his prosthetic hand without hesitation and pulled him toward the locomotive. "Brid! Soline! We've got a VIP!"
The officer's car door slid open, revealing two figures. The first was barely visible behind the control panel—a tiny Nikke with long silver hair and oversized goggles perched on her head. She peeked around the machinery, her small frame dwarfed by the massive instruments.
"Soline, engineer extraordinaire!" Diesel announced. "Best mechanic on any rail line, living or dead."
Soline's voice was soft, almost mousy. "You're... you're Commander Cousland? The one who saved Squad Shepherds' Shepard?"
"Just did my job," Arthur said, crouching slightly to meet her eye level. "This train runs smoother than anything I've seen in the Ark. That's your work?"
Soline's cheeks flushed. "I... yes. I maintain the magnetic couplings and reactor balance. It's... it's nothing special."
"It's everything special," Arthur corrected. "Without you, we don't move. That makes you critical."
The second figure emerged from the narrow corridor, and Arthur straightened. Brid was tall, with short silver hair. She wore a flowing skirt that reached her ankles and a tight sleeveless shirt that strained against her generous curves. The buttons down the front looked ready to surrender at any moment, and when she turned to retrieve a clipboard, Arthur caught a glimpse of smooth synthetic skin at the side of her chest.
"Commander," Brid greeted, her voice warm and professional. "Diesel's told us about you. It's good to finally meet the man who treats Nikkes like people."
"Should be standard practice," Arthur replied, extending his hand. Her grip was firm, confident.
"Should be. Isn't." Brid's smile was knowing. "We appreciate what you're doing at the Outpost. If you ever need priority cargo or passenger transport, just send word ahead. We'll make it happen."
"I'll keep that in mind. This line is our lifeline. Knowing it's in capable hands makes everything easier."
Diesel beamed. "See? I told you he was different. Oh, Commander, before you go—strawberry or cherry candies next shipment?"
"Surprise me," Arthur said, giving Soline a final nod before stepping back onto the platform.
As the train began its return journey, he found Anis waiting by the elevator, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.
"So, you're just making friends with every Nikke you meet now?" she asked.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. Just... observing." Anis shifted her weight, her yellow jacket catching the dim light. "Hey, Commander. You got time for a... a thing?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A thing?"
"A date. There. I said it." Anis's face flushed. "Rapi got one, and it's not fair. So you and me, we're going to the Ark, and you're buying me lunch. Deal?"
Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Deal. Let me grab my coat."
"Don't need it. We're not going anywhere fancy."
They caught the next train back, Diesel winking conspiratorially as they boarded. The ride was filled with Anis's running commentary about Soline's shyness and Brid's efficiency. But beneath the chatter, Arthur sensed something else—a tension, a purpose.
When they arrived at the Ark, Anis led him away from the Royal Road district and toward the industrial sectors. The streets grew narrower, the crowds denser, the air thick with the smell of oil and recycled oxygen.
"First stop," Anis announced, pushing open the door to a small diner. The sign above read *Rico's Grill*.
Inside, the place was packed with laborers and off-duty soldiers. The moment they entered, conversations faltered. Eyes tracked Anis with the casual contempt Arthur had seen too many times.
The man behind the counter, broad-shouldered and balding, looked up and scowled. "No Nikkes. Read the sign."
Arthur followed his gesture to a laminated card taped to the register. *Management reserves the right to refuse service.*
"She's with me," Arthur said calmly, his Commander's insignia visible on his collar.
"Don't care if she's with the Goddess herself. No Nikkes."
Anis tugged at his sleeve. "Commander, it's fine. Let's just—"
"It's not fine." Arthur's voice dropped, cold and precise. "I'm a paying customer. She's my guest. You're telling me you'd rather lose business than serve someone who's fought and bled for the Ark?"
The diner went silent. The man's face reddened. "Look, I don't make the rules—"
"You absolutely do. This is your establishment." Arthur placed a credit chip on the counter. "Two meals. To go, if it makes you feel better. Or we can sit, eat, and leave a generous tip. Your choice."
The standoff lasted ten seconds. Finally, the man snatched the chip. "To go. Ten minutes."
Outside, Anis let out a breath she'd been holding. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did."
They ate on a bench overlooking the lower districts, the food mediocre but warm. Anis was quieter than usual, picking at her fries.
"Next stop," she said eventually, leading him to a rec center. The same pattern repeated—hostile looks, a manager citing 'policy,' Arthur's calm insistence. They were allowed in, but the atmosphere was glacial. Anis played a shooting game with grim determination while Arthur watched, his presence a silent shield.
At a clothing store, the clerk followed them, obviously suspicious. At a transit hub, a security guard asked to see Anis's identification three times. Each instance, Arthur intervened—not with anger, but with quiet, unyielding authority.
By the fourth location, a small park where they were told Nikkes weren't permitted on the grass, Anis stopped walking.
"Okay. Enough." She turned to face him, her eyes bright. "I get it."
"Get what?"
"That you're not faking. That you actually give a damn." Anis's voice cracked slightly. "I needed to see it, okay? Not in the Outpost where everyone's desperate and grateful. Out here, where people treat us like... like things. I needed to know if you'd still stand with me when it was inconvenient."
Arthur met her gaze. "Anis, you're not a test to pass. You're part of my squad. That means something."
"Yeah. Yeah, it does." She laughed, shaky and relieved. "Come on. I know one place that won't give us shit."
She led him to a tiny arcade tucked into a forgotten corner of the commercial district. The owner, an elderly woman with kind eyes, greeted Anis by name.
"Haven't seen you in months, dear! And who's this handsome young man?"
"My Commander," Anis said, and Arthur heard the pride in her voice.
They spent an hour playing ancient video games, the kind with pixelated graphics and simple controls. Anis was surprisingly competitive, crowing with victory when she beat Arthur's high score on a racing game.
"You're terrible at this," she teased.
"I'm excellent at delegating," Arthur countered. "You can handle the racing. I'll handle the war."
The laughter that spilled out of Anis was genuine, unguarded. For a moment, she looked younger, unburdened.
On the train back to the Outpost, they sat in the officer's car, the city lights fading into darkness as they descended into the tunnel. Anis rested her head against the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass.
"Commander?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't die, okay?" Her voice was soft, almost fragile. "I know that's a stupid thing to ask a soldier, but... just don't. We need you. *I* need you."
Arthur reached over, his prosthetic hand resting gently on her shoulder. "I'll do my best."
"That's not good enough," Anis said, but she was smiling. "But I guess it'll have to be."
When they arrived at the Outpost, the platform was lit by the warm glow of construction lights. The sound of hammering echoed through the dome, a rhythm of progress.
Anis hopped off the train, then turned back. "Thanks for the date, Commander. Even if half of it sucked."
"Same time next week?" Arthur asked.
"You're on." She flashed him a grin and jogged toward the barracks, her yellow jacket a bright spot against the gray.
Arthur watched her go, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him like a familiar coat. Diesel poked her head out of the train.
"She's a good one, that Anis. Rough edges, but good."
"They all are," Arthur said.
"Then you'd better keep that promise, Commander. Don't you dare die on them." Diesel's smile was gentle, but her eyes held steel.
Arthur nodded and walked toward the Command Center, the lights of the Outpost flickering like stars in a man-made sky.