Gap Stories #17

[Syncing In The Ocean]

Log Date: 10/5/12768

Data Sources: Genista Project Archives

Event Log: 10/5/12768

Halcyon Test Frame ‘Vision’: Pilot Chamber

6:07am LPT

He had never had much trouble with it.

For him, the ocean was a calming place. Removed from the drama of the rest of his squad, free from the pressure of their trainers — for him, it all fell away here. The moment he put on that helm, plugged in his cables, and closed the hatch, he could close his eyes and let the chamber’s synchronizer pull him into the ocean — that place between minds, where empath pilots linked up and eased into psychogenic lockstep with each other. It was a calming place for him, where sensations were replaced with wandering memories, and the confined interior of the pilot chamber was replaced with a blue expanse through which he could drift, waiting for his copilot to arrive and sync with him.

Unfortunately, not everybody found such solace in the ocean.

“Vision, your sync rate is dropping after that last hit. Pull back and stabilize; we can’t afford a crashout while there’s still three contacts on the field.”

Latti’s brows drew together. Within his helm was displayed the visual feed from their Titan’s head unit, which showed the heat signature of the Leviathan they were squaring off with, slinking behind a low hill in the predawn dark. He could feel the sensory feedback as their Titan moved to angle its front towards the Leviathan; could feel the mechanical weight of those legs as the earth sunk beneath its metal feet. He could feel the way the gears contracted and shifted as the arms repositioned the arclance towards the Leviathan; could feel the heat in the chest of the Titan as the fusion core adjusted its output to keep millions of pounds of metal in motion. He could feel all of it as if it was his own body, though he was not completely in control of it. That was supposed to be Visi, who was the lead in their pairing.

But Visi was struggling.

She wasn’t calm. She was angry; there was fear mixed in there too, but it was mostly anger, and some pain. He knew this because they were synced, so it wasn’t just their Titan that he felt; he also felt everything that Visi felt. He could feel what she wanted to do, where she wanted to move next; he knew her racing thoughts, the fear that they wouldn’t be able to defeat this Leviathan, that it would damage them to the point of being unable to defend themselves. He felt the pain that she felt from the hull puncture on their upper left forearm, where the Leviathan had outmaneuvered them and gotten a bite in. He felt her rising anxiety at the possibility that they were losing control of the situation.

And Latti didn’t know what to do.

Pilot synchronization hinged on being able to match your copilot’s state of mind. To match their mood, to align your intents and desires with theirs. Achieving and maintaining that unified state was critical to operating a Titan through an empath config; if you couldn’t maintain it and keep the sync rate above threshold, then both of you would crash out and lose control of the Titan. Staying in sync with your copilot was the most important aspect of empath piloting.

But when your copilot was unstable and emotionally volatile, what did you do? Do you try to match her, to mirror her wild oscillations in a bid to keep the sync rate above the threshold? Or do you remain calm, and try to stabilize her, to bring her into alignment with yourself, even as the growing dissonance pushes both of you closer to a crashout? They had always been trained to remain calm, to keep a cool head, because emotional pilots were more likely to make mistakes.

“Visi—” Latti begins, trying to push some of his tranquility to her over their link.

The retort is violent and strident, a whiplash of anger as Visi rejects his attempt to calm her. No words even need to be said; she doesn’t want to be calmed down, or told what to do. And Latti realizes too late that trying to calm her only fed into her anxiety — it only confirmed her brewing fear: if someone was telling her what to do, it meant she had lost control of the situation.

And on the inside of his helm, Latti could see their sync rate spike slightly before dropping beneath the operational threshold.

The lights inside his helm turn blue as the safety shutoff is triggered, power levels dropping across the board as they’re shut out of Vision’s control schema. Over the comms, he could hear Visi gasp a desperate “No!” as their Titan starts shifting into standby mode. Automated subroutines slowed it to a halt so it could take a knee, settling into a stable position that reduced its target profile… just as the Leviathan started to come around the hill it had been sneaking behind.

What to do now?

It was only a matter of a couple seconds, but so many thoughts tore through his head in that moment, in this heightened state. They could try to resynchronize, but with the state that Visi was in, he wasn’t sure it’d even be possible. She was too unstable for him to match her, and he knew she suffered from performance anxiety — she cared very much about being as good as the others, and crashing out in the middle of a dangerous field operation was so embarrassing that it felt like the end of the world to her. And even if, by some miracle, they managed to sync back up above the startup threshold, it would take at least ten seconds for them to come back up out of standby mode. They didn’t have ten seconds; the Leviathan was already moving towards them.

So Latti made a decision.

“Field Command, this is Vision, we are crashed out.” Latti says after turning on comms to the field channel. “Requesting immediate backup while we resync and get back on our feet.”

“What are you doing!?” Visi hissed over the comms, her mortification clear. “Stop wasting breath and resync with me!”

She doesn’t give him time to respond; he can immediately feel the pull through the synchronizer as she yanks him back in. Normally he would close his eyes when trying to sync; removing external distractions made it easier to reach the startup threshold. But with the Leviathan moving towards them and starting to pick up speed, he couldn’t bring himself to do that; there was a dread that he’d close his eyes, get halfway through syncing up, only for them to be rammed by the giant beast, knocked out of their synchronization for good. And so he felt himself pulled into the ocean — dark, turbulent, raging with Visi’s storm of emotions — all while watching the Leviathan bear down on them.

He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t sync up to Visi’s state of mind, or try to calm her down. Not like this, not watching their oncoming death bear down on them.

Then a burst of light exploded from Leviathan’s side and lit up the night, an explosive blast of fire that knocked the Leviathan off its gait. Another explosion hammered into its side, sending it staggering off-track, and from the left, Latti’s helm display picked up the outline of the Firefly II moving to intercept. One arm was raised, with its mortar pistol in hand, firing another detonating shell that continued shredding the Leviathan’s chitin plating on impact.

“Field Command, this is Firefly, I have Tantrum locked down.” Renchiko’s voice came over the field channel. “I will keep it off Vision to the best of my ability.”

“Noted. Torikago will head that way once S1 has been dealt with.” Songbird’s voice came over the channel.

Relief swept over Latti, and it was at that point that he closed his eyes and let the synchronizer fully pull him into the ocean. Not that it was any easier once he did; Visi was not calm and focused, the ocean flooded with her emotions. Shame for having failed, for being a burden on the rest of the squad; anger, frustration, at him, for not mirroring her enough to keep them synced. Anxiety over what the Valiant pilots would think of her, and anxiety over the disapproval of their operations commander.

He couldn’t sync with this. Couldn’t match or mirror it, because if he tried, it would just create a feedback loop, and both of them would spiral. Both of them would be volatile, and their sync rate would be all over the place. They wouldn’t remain above threshold long enough to get their Titan started up again.

“Visi.” Latti says tentatively, like he’s tiptoeing around a bomb. “Take a breath—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snaps back at him. “You’re second seat, you’re supposed to follow my lead!”

“I can’t follow you like this, Visi!” he replies, some of his calm evaporating. “I can’t try to feel all these things; it’s not good for either of us. I’m trying to stay calm—” Another explosion from the Firefly’s mortar pistol sends a faint reverberation through the hull of the Vision, cutting Latti off for a tense moment. “—I’m trying to stay calm so we can get through this, so please, please, just… breathe. Can you breathe with me? Like they trained us to do?”

He can feel her anger spike, but it comes down afterwards, with some of her other emotions lessening their intensity. She doesn’t say anything, and he can sense, through their connection, that she was refusing to do so to preserve her pride, refusing to admit that he was right. But she was doing it anyway; he could hear her heavy breathing through their channel, growing slower as the violent emotions in the ocean continued to dilute. They wouldn’t disappear entirely, still lingering like a faint shadow, but they could be shoved down into the depths of the ocean, where they could be ignored while they focused on the present. He likewise slowed his breathing, emptying his mind as best he could, focusing on Visi’s thoughts and desires, and doing his best to adopt them as his own, to make them as important to him as they were to her.

And for the moment, those desires were getting their Titan back up and running, and proving to the rest of the squad that they were useful, and could be relied upon.

Those were desires Latti could understand, desires he could empathize with and share with her. They were things that mattered to him as well, and though his eyes were closed, he could tell when the lights in his helm switched over to green, because it was bleeding through into the blue ocean in his mind. Opening his eyes, he could see on his helm’s HUD that their sync rate had risen back up to 87%, high enough to clear the startup threshold. Sensory information began channeling back into his plugsuit again, allowing him to feel the Titan’s frame as if it were his own body, including the dull ache where the left arm had taken damage.

“Command, we are back online.” Visi announced over the comms, her voice now more composed, though there was lingering annoyance in her tone. “Moving to reengage Tantrum.”

“Do so carefully.” came the reply from the SHOC. “Tantrum is a repeat survivor. It has been learning and adapting between encounters.”

“Understood.” Latti can sense Visi withholding a more sarcastic reply in favor of something more professional and compliant. He could also sense her intention, their thoughts aligning as Vision reaches back to pull the Striker rifle off its back. Not far from them, the Firefly is struggling with Tantrum; the Valiant mech has its tonfa lance locked into its forearm plate, using it to block an attempt to bite down on the Firefly’s head. With the sun not up yet, it’s hard to get a good sense of Tantrum’s size or outline — they have only the infrared and nightvision filters to go off of. But based on the silhouette, it looked like the Leviathan had grown a stout horn, and had bulked up around the shoulders and chest since the last time the squad had fought it.

“Firefly, if you can keep it there. I am lining up a shot.” Visi says as their Titan braces the giant pulse rifle against its shoulder, the accelerator engine starting to ramp up with a low hum.

“Make it happen in the next ten seconds, I can’t maintain this!” Wrench replies, the Firefly’s free hand coming up to brace the bladed end of the tonfa lance. The smaller mech has proven its durability on the operations it’s been on so far, but even it has limits; her forearm plate is starting to buckle under the relentless bite force of Tantrum’s jaws.

“Targeting the eye.” Visi replies as they adjust the angle of the rifle in accordance with their targeting software’s guidance. Latti could sense the logic behind the decision; if they could breach the socket, the shot might go through into the brain and put the Leviathan down for good.

“Watch your fire! If you aim for the head, you might hit me if you’re not careful!” Wrench warns, though at that moment, the Leviathan catches sight of the light gathering the barrel of the pulse rifle. Perhaps knowing what’s coming, it jerks its head in Vision’s direction while opening its maw, throwing the Firefly back towards the Vision and blocking the line of fire.

“Shit!” Visi hisses, and Latti follows her impulse to tilt the pulse rifle down and to the side as the particle burst discharges, a streak of white light narrowly missing the Firefly as it’s thrown through the air. The blast strikes the ground near the Leviathan, sending dirt and chunks of rock flying with the force of a targeted airstrike. But the colossal beast is already moving, building momentum into a charge that has two purposes: trample the Firefly while it’s down, and ram into the Vision.

But with Wrench’s lightning-fast reflexes, the Firefly is able to fire its directional thrusters, scorching the grass as it rolls out of the way of the charging Leviathan. Latti knows they won’t have time to get off another shot, and so does Visi; the Vision drops the pulse rifle, reaching for the arclance they had dropped earlier, trying to grab it in time to get it up to where the Leviathan will impale itself on it. In the dark, though, the giant spear was misplaced, and the Titan fumbles for it, metal fingers raking along dirt and grass in search of the weapon.

Panic starts to set in for both of the young pilots as the charging Leviathan bears down on their Titan, but the ram is interdicted by something big slamming into the beast at high speed. It goes staggering to the side with something clinging to it; the floodlights shining from the Vision’s front show glimpses of curved black metal, with a blue glow peeking through the segmented plates. The Leviathan snarls as reinforced jaws try to get a grip on the back of its neck, while tungsten-carbide claws hook against its chitin armor, trying to cut through them.

And at once, both Latti and Visi realize that Tantrum has been intercepted by the Torikago.

The Hybriddyr Titan fights almost like a Leviathan itself; a metal animal, claws raking and jaws snapping as it looks for a kill bite on the back of the Leviathan’s neck. The Leviathan is not making that easy, bucking and twisting as it tries to get its own teeth into the Torikago, but by this point the black jaguar has clawed its way up onto Tantrum’s back, trying to get a better angle for the bite it’s looking for. Perhaps sensing the imminent danger, the Leviathan throws itself down on its side, flinging the Torikago off its back; the Titan goes rolling across the ground, but comes out of that roll right back on its metal paws, the claws leaving gouges in the earth as it slows itself to a halt.

“Vision, you are standing still! Collect your weapons and get back up!” The order from the operations commander startles both Visi and Latti, both of them reflexively reaching for the dropped rifle as they keep their attention on Torikago and Tantrum. The Torikago, once it has skidded to a stop, starts transforming, internal machinery decoupling and shifting into a new configuration. The external plating pushes outward, making room for the internal parts to move around as the Hybriddyr rises to stand on two feet, and once it’s upright, the plates pull back in and lock into place.

By the time the Leviathan has gotten back up, the Torikago has finished transforming into its humanoid configuration, and short, broad blades slide out of its forearm plates, locking into place. Channels of molten green light race over the blades as the plasma conduction veins ignite, and bringing its arms up, it slams the forearms together with two loud, crashing clangs. The sound has just barely begun to fade when it yanks those arms apart in an open challenge, blasting its warning horn from somewhere in its torso assembly. The bassy klaxon echoes over the hills, audible for miles, and even through the layers of metal protecting Vision’s pilot chamber.

The Leviathan roars in response, only to end up interrupted by an explosion against the side of its head; the Firefly has picked up its mortar pistol again, at the same time that the Vision has started charging another shot in its plasma rifle. Another Leviathan would stayed and fought, but Tantrum, with its bias towards survival and higher-than-average intelligence, seems to recognize that it’s outnumbered and starts backing away. As soon as it has put enough distance between itself and the Titans, it turns slinks away, moving to get behind cover of the hills as quickly as possible. Visi and Latti, desperate to get some damage in before it escapes, fire a shot at it as it flees; however, the streak of light only manages to graze one of Tantrum’s dorsal fins, clipping a cauterized half-circle out of it as the Leviathan slinks from view.

“Operations, do you have eyes on Tantrum?” Songbird demands as the Torikago moves forward, closer to Firefly and Vision, as if to stand guard near them.

“Recon has a drone on Tantrum; it’s not flanking or circling back. From what we can tell, it looks like a genuine retreat.” the operations commander replies. “You are not to pursue. Return to the squad with Firefly and Vision, and finalize the elimination of S2.”

“Acknowledged.” Songbird replies as the Torikago turns and reaches down, picking up something. A moment later, it is offering out the dropped arclance to the Vision. “C’mon, Vision. We’ve got monsters to kill. Firefly, go ahead of us. We’ll bring up the rear.”

The Firefly is already boosting past them, its jet thrusters lighting up the dark as it heads in the direction where the rest of the squad was fighting the other two Titans. The Vision reaches up to take hold of the offered spear once it’s put its rifle away, and it stands shortly after, the jet thrusters on its legs and back firing as it starts to follow after the Firefly. Though the immediate danger is past and they’ll soon be returning to the safety of squad combat, Latti still finds himself finds himself worried about his copilot’s emotions, in part because he has the same feelings.

Deflated about not being able to contribute meaningfully to the operation, and dread at having to face the judgement of the rest of their squad.

Event Log: 10/7/12768

Genista: Pilot Training and Residence Facility

11:19am LPT

“Wait wait wait, play that part back again—”

“Again? We’ve watched it like six times already, dude!”

“I know, but it’s so cool! When he hammers his arms together and then blasts the horn, holy hell, I get shivers—”

“Can we take a look at the transformation part again? It’s crazy, they completed a full config shift in under ten seconds. I didn’t know you could do it that fast.”

“You think that was fast, you should’ve seen how hard they slammed into the Leviathan. I mean, I guess it makes sense, we all know Jegers can move faster on four legs than Titans, but damn, I didn’t know they could move that fast.”

“Hey, give me back the controller—!”

“You’ve had it for long enough, the rest of us get a turn now. I wanna look at the transformation sequence again—”

Latti stirs his straw around in his mug of chocolate milk, briefly tuning out the bickering of the rest of the squad. It’d been a couple days since the operation in the foothills, and everyone had mostly recovered from the experience. Their squad had received their after-action report this morning; the tactical branch of the project had completed the post-operation assessment, and released it to the squad so they could see their performance and the feedback that came with it. It was meant for them to study their performance, see how they’d done, and get a sense for what they could change or improve next time. But that report also came with attached video files of the operation, which was really what the squad was interested in — seeing all the cool moments that they might’ve missed while piloting their own Titans.

So here they all were in the common room, with most of the squad sitting or sprawled on the couches and chairs, playing clips from the battle on the big screen. Latti had settled at the small dining table at the back, flicking through the actual contents of the report on his data slate; considering how the Vision had crashed out during that operation, there was nothing in the clips he actually wanted to see, since they held the proof of his embarrassment. The same went for Visi, but she was actually trying to be part of the group, sitting in one of the chairs with her arms folded and staying quiet.

“And then — there it is! The moment the Torikago shows up, Tantrum turns right around and runs the hell away!” Stratos says, smacking his forearms together the way that the Torikago had. “Scared shitless. I think I’m gonna try that next time, see if I can send ‘em packing.”

Lustra snorts at that, leaning back as she folds her arms. “Gonna get yourself and Rumo killed like that. None of our Titans are scary enough to pull that off.”

“Only reason it’s worked for the Torikago is because it’s fought Tantrum before, and won both times.” Picazo points out. “And their pilots actually know what they’re doing.”

“Man. I hope we get as good as they are one day.” Archer sighs. “The Torikago always looks so confident when it’s fighting. They never hesitate or anything.”

“Did you guys notice that their sync rate is redacted for some reason?” Pix remarks from where he’s scrolling through the report on his data slate. “I was going through the numbers and it looks like their paracapacity and sync rates were omitted. What do you think their partner numbers are like?”

“Whatever it is, they’re better than Vision’s numbers.” Torian grunts.

Visi’s expression darkens, and Latti keeps his eyes on his slate, ignoring the remark. Lustra swats her partner, scowling at him. “Don’t be like that.”

Torian rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, we had to pick up the slack when the Torikago left for babysitting duty.”

“I’ve heard some of the lab techs talking over the last few weeks.” Gale says, trying to redirect the conversation. “Apparently the sync rate for the Torikago pilots is somewhere around three thousand.”

It’s immediately met with scorn and disbelief. “Yeah right. The highest you can go is, what? A hundred and twenty percent?” Stratos scoffs.

“Yeah, I think the highest recorded sync rates are somewhere in the hundred-and-twenties, at least for non-psions.” Archer agrees. “I think psion copilots can get up to… what, two hundred percent? I think that’s normal for the Viralix Jeger pilots.”

“Yeah, but they’re an entire race of psions.” Pix points out. “Songbird and Kiwi aren’t psions. At least I’m pretty sure they’re not.”

“I mean, the girl’s a Mask Knight. She could’ve Masked a psion in the past.” Picazo says.

“Yeah, but that still wouldn’t get them to a sync rate of three thousand.” Lustra says derisively. “Nobody’s ever broken two hundred and fifty before, much less a thousand, to say nothing of three thousand. That’s literally not possible; your mind would have to be folded into your partner’s like a piece of origami.”

Gale shrugs. “That’s what the lab techs were gossiping about.”

“You must’ve misheard them. Maybe they said three hundred, instead of three thousand.”

“No, it was three thousand…”

Latti tunes out the chatter again, sipping from his straw as he goes over his portion of the report. The feedback for him and Visi wasn’t particularly forgiving; their bickering had been logged on the report notes, along with their crashout, and their overall shaky performance. Therapy and counseling sessions had been scheduled for both of them, which was usually what happened whenever partners weren’t getting along. The concluding notes in their section said that if they couldn’t pass their test runs with consistently high marks before the next operation, it was recommended that they should sit out the next operation.

After reading that, Latti’s eyes flit to Visi. It seems obvious that she’d already read the report, and the feedback was weighing on her. Crashing out was humiliating, but for her, it would be even more humiliating to be forced to sit out an operation. It was basically implying that they were be a liability, and couldn’t be trusted not to put their squadmates in danger.

“Latti?”

Latti’s attention is pulled by someone saying his name, and find Rumo sitting down to the table, caddycorner to where he is. She offers him a quick smile, but soon follows it up with “Are you okay? You look a bit lonely back here.”

“I don’t mind it. I don’t like talking, anyway.” he says, laying down his data slate. “Figured I’d just keep my head down after the last operation.”

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad.” Rumo says. “Nobody got hurt. Some damage to our Titans, but stuff that can easily be repaired.”

Latti presses his lips together, flicking a finger against the edge of his data slate. “Yeah, well, the report thinks otherwise.”

“At least you managed to get back up and running.” Rumo insists, brushing some of her hair back behind her ear. “If I crashed out in the middle of an operation, I don’t think I’d be able to resync.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.” Latti says, leaning back in his chair. “You’d be fine. Stratos is the one that would have a meltdown over crashing out.”

“Yeah…” Rumo says, looking over her shoulder to where Stratos is animatedly arguing with Picazo over something. “He tries, though. He does his best.”

“I think we’re all trying to do our best. But it’s just hard when none of us are as good as the Valiant pilots.” Latti says, pushing his chair back so it’s balancing on two legs. “Even their rookie is more experienced than us. And she somehow does better than us, despite piloting solo in a mancon Titan.”

“Yeah, but they’re all older than us.” Rumo points out. “And they have more training as soldiers. Like, actual combat experience. So that probably helps when they’re piloting.”

“Yeah. It’s just hard to measure up to that.” Latti sighs, letting his chair drop back to all fours as he glances over at the others. “I just… wish it was easier. Pix and Picazo make it look so easy. They just… get along, they never fight, their numbers are always high…”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one.” Rumo says, glancing in the same direction. “I think a lot of us would like to get along a little better with their partners.”

Latti nods, remaining quiet for a moment, then remembering something. “How do Kiwi and Songbird do it? You think their sync rate is really that high?”

Rumo shrugs. “Maybe. They just seem really comfortable with each other. Kind of like Pix and Picazo, but even more than that.”

The sound of the door sliding open pulls their attention, and both of them turn to see Wrench stepping into the common room, dressed in her Special Agent uniform. Both Latti and Rumo straighten up, their conversation ending as Wrench clears her throat. But most of the other pilots are too busy chatting and bantering with each other, and the sound goes unnoticed. Rather than barking out orders to get their attention, Wrench reaches over to the wall, hitting the touchpad and swinging the room’s lighting from dim to bright to dim to bright again. That gets the rest of the squad’s attention, most of them looking up, then around, before focusing on Wrench when they realize she’s in the room.

“I have news about your next training exercise.” she states simply. “We will be going on a camping trip up into the mountains.”

Quiet falls in the room as this sinks in. It mostly seems to be confusion, because a camping trip does not equate to training for most of them. “Camping, like… out in the woods?” Lustra asks tentatively. 

“Correct. It will be near one of the mountain lakes. Today we will review with each of you on your performance during the last operation. Tomorrow, you will be learning how to pack for a camping trip. The day after that, we will be heading up into the mountains and spending a couple days camping.” Wrench says, maintaining her disciplined posture as she lays out the itinerary. “Are there any questions?”

“What are we going to do while we’re up there?” Pix asks.

“There are many activities planned. You will be learning how to set up tents, start fires, and cook your own food. There will also be leisure time, a hike, and a lake to swim in. No phones or technology will be permitted. It will be a… very gentle wilderness training.” The way she says it, it’s very clear that she’s struggling to consider it even that.

“But what about our Titan training?” Gale asks. “Shouldn’t we be running sims and preparing to fight different types of Leviathans?”

“Oh, you will.” Wrench answers without hesitating. “The reason for this change of program is because Songbird wants the lab techs to rework the sim programs so that it’s more a dueling program. Instead of fighting computer simulations, you’ll be fighting Leviathan simulations controlled by myself, Songbird, and Kiwi. But it takes time to get the simulations set up for something like that, so while the techs are making those changes, we’ll be going on a camping trip.”

The Genista pilots seem to be taken off guard by that. “Wait, so they’ll be, like… pretending to be Leviathans in the sim chamber?” Torian demands.

“Correct. You’ll get to fight against foes that think more organically. It should keep you all on your toes.” Wrench says, lifting an arm and checking the light streaming over the fibers of her jacket sleeve, forming a message. “Your reviews will begin in about thirty minutes, starting with Gale and Archer, and working through the squad in order of rank. You should get together with your copilot, go over your review in the report, and make sure you’re ready to talk about your performance in the last operation. We will start calling you when we are ready. Are there any questions?”

While some of the pilots do have questions, all that’s returned are scattered ‘no ma’ams’. Over the last month, the Genista pilots had learned that the daughter of Ratchet was deadly serious about piloting, and rarely cracked jokes or broke composure. She behaved like a consummate professional around them, and it was clear that she expected them to behave similarly.

“Very well. We will begin calling you on the hour.” Wrench says, turning and stepping back through the door. As it slides shut behind her, there’s a palpable sense of relief as the tension in the room drops, but not back to the level it was at before. Operational reviews were never fun unless you had handled an operation perfectly, and none of them had handled the last operation perfectly.

“Welp. Guess we better start getting our alibi together.” Stratos says, slouching back on his portion of the couch as he reaches for his data slate. “C’mon, Rumo. We gotta figure out how to explain why we were riding the line for most of the last operation.”

Rumo gives Latti an apologetic smile, pushing back from the table and standing up. “Gotta go now. Good luck on preparing for your review.” she says, making her way back over to the others.

“Yeah. You too.” Latti says as she goes, but then his eyes go to Visi, still sitting with her legs pulled up in one of the couch chairs. She catches him glancing at her, in a silent offer to meet and go over their review, but her scowl said everything. Picking up her slate, she hid behind it, leaving Latti to go back to reviewing the report on his own.

And he could tell right then and there that the counseling sessions were not going to be easy.

Event Log: 10/9/12768

Halcyon: somewhere over the Baleyga Mountain Range

5:09pm LPT

“There is no way. No. I refuse to believe it.” Ridge growls as he clomps back into the spacious cockpit of the flying RV they’re currently riding in. He swings the frosted-glass door closed behind himself, then flops down in one of the seats behind the pilot and copilot seats. “I refuse to believe I was that annoying and obnoxious five years ago.”

“Welcome to being an adult.” Songbird says from the pilot’s seat, idly checking the instruments as he flies them to their camping site out in the mountains. “Now you know what it was like when I had to deal with you at that age.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t like— like— they are!” Ridge protests, motioning towards the door he just came through. Through the frosted glass, one can see, and hear, the Genista pilots having a good time — some of the boys lightly roughhousing with each other, while some of the others enjoyed a rousing game of cards. “Like yeah, I was a punk sometimes, but I wasn’t like these feral heathens! I think I’m startin’ to get a headache, trying to keep them in line…”

“Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it.” Kiwi grins over the shoulder of the copilot seat. She’s got her feet up on the dash, hands laced behind her head. “You gave us a hard time when you were a teenager, and now it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.”

“I am never going to have kids.” Ridge grumbles, throwing an arm over his face as he slouches in his seat. “These little redheaded vampires are sucking the life out of me. I thought I was supposed to be on bodyguard duty, not babysitting.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, since you’re not into women.” Kiwi says, nibbling on one of her trimmed nails. “Unless something really weird happens, you’re not gonna be knockin’ anybody up anytime soon.”

“Thank the gods for the small mercies.” Ridge grunts. “How much longer until we’re there?”

“Less than an hour, more than thirty minutes.” Renchiko answers from where she’s sitting at the workstation built into the cockpit, typing away on a keyboard. “Once we’re at the campsite, they won’t be cooped up anymore, and we’ll have plenty of ways to wear them out.”

“Good. I might go crazy if I have to spend longer than that cooped up with them.” Ridge says, taking his arm off his face. “Why don’t you head out there and handle them until we touch down, ‘Chiko?”

“I can’t. I’m working on the purchase order for the Torikago’s upgrade.” Renchiko says without taking her eyes off the screen. “The claws aren’t cutting it; they’re barely scratching the chitin plates for the Leviathans we’ve fought. It’s not surprising, since they’re made by Nullus Manufacturing. But replacing them means we either have to buy them from a producer that specializes in aftermarkets for the Torikago’s model, or we have to buy the ore and forge the claws ourselves in Sunthorn’s Foundry.”

Ridge sighs. “Okay, fine… but the kids don’t listen to me the way they listen to you.”

“It’s because you’re not a pilot. They respect pilots more.”

“Then why am I on babysitting duty?! I’m literally the only person on this ship that’s not a Titan pilot!”

“You just gotta be firm with them.” Renchiko says, leaning over and opening the door so she can bark through it. “HEY! Bring it down! If I have to stop working and come out there, everybody’s gonna be doing push-ups!”

The volume instantly drops several notches, and Renchiko closes the door and straightens back up while Kiwi chuckles. “Nice goin’, girl. Droppin’ the hammer on ‘em.”

“She gets it from her mother. I remember getting yelled at like that back when I was still a rookie.” Songbird says. “Renchiko, you’re making sure the claw replacements we’re looking at have a heating element or plasma conduction, right?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be pricey, though. Drill’s probably gonna have a fit when he sees the price quotes. And if he does sign off on the plasma option, it’s gonna require some adjustments to the internal tanks that the Torikago uses to store the plasma gas.” Renchiko says, fingers chattering away at the keyboard again. “We’re gonna have to do a teardown of the forearms for a partial refit, and make sure the feed lines for the plasma will work in both configurations. You know how it goes with Hybriddyr.”

“Yeah. No surprises there. Do what you can, and we’ll make it work.” Songbird says, making a minor adjustment to their flight path, along with a few other slight corrections. “It’s going to take time for the replacements or the ore to get here anyway, so it won’t be an immediate upgrade. We’ll schedule the refit between operations and take care of it then.”

“How much longer do you think it’ll take to get these little heathens up to scratch?” Ridge asks as he pulls out his phone and checks it. “They haven’t improved much over the last three battles.”

“They’re improving. It’s going to take time; you don’t train ace pilots overnight.” Songbird replies. “I think, at the longest, we’re going to be here for half a year. So we’ll teach them what we can during that time. After that, they’ll have to fend for themselves if we haven’t eradicated the Collective’s hive on this world by that point.”

“Well, we’re what, two months in already?” Ridge says, scrolling through his messages. “So they’ve only got another four months to get it together. And I’ll be honest, you all are still carrying most of the weight on that squad.”

“Well, it took you and Renchiko a long time to start carrying your own weight too, so don’t go knockin’ it.” Kiwi reminds him. “Those kids back there are the same age that you were when we picked you up from Valcorria, and it took you a couple years and a lot of training to get your feet under you and start contributing.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. We don’t have two years; we’ve only got six months to get these kids flying on their own.” Ridge retorts. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure they’ll be ready at the end of six months.”

“Neither am I. But we’ll do what we can for them, and hope for the best.” Songbird says. “We’ll teach them all that we know, give them all the tools, and put them in a good spot to take off. After that, the rest is on them. It’s not dissimilar to raising children. You do what you can for them, but at some point they have to go off on their own and make it work for themselves.”

“Blugh. Count me out on that.” Ridge says, tucking his phone away and lacing his hands behind his head. “I’m wasted on training. Don’t have the patience for it.”

“Mmm, we’ll have to see about fixing that, then. You and Renchiko will be in charge of helping the kids set up their tents and getting a firepit dug while Kiwi and I check the perimeter when we get there. Should be easy for you, since you picked up those skills in basic training.”

“What? Oh, c’mon, man—”

“Would you rather dig the firepit yourself?”

“…oh.”

“Hahaha! He caught on pretty quick.”

“Yeah, I think I can delegate some of the campsite chores… okay, yeah. I guess I can help the little heathens set everything up.”

Event Log: 10/10/12768

Halcyon: Baleygachu Lake

1:45pm LPT

“Mmm. Man. Never thought I’d ever say it, but I love the silence.” Ridge exhales from the hammock that he’s stretched out in. “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

“Careful there. You’re starting to sound like Drill.” Renchiko says from the hammock she’s lying in. The two of them have been left behind to keep an eye on the campsite, while Songbird and Kiwi took the squad on a hike through the mountains and around the lake.

Ridge snorts. “And you’re starting to behave like Legaci, always working on something. What are you fiddling around with now?” he asks, hanging a leg out of his hammock and kicking it against the ground to keep it rocking.

“Seeing if I can find the schematics for the Siegebreaker cannon that the Torikago has. It didn’t roll off the line equipped with that — that’s something that was designed by the Challengers and then installed in the Torikago after purchase.” Renchiko says as she continues to search through a file directory on her data slate. “Hell of a weapon. I was thinking if I could find the schematics, we could see if we could scale it down to something that could be mounted on a Titan’s arm assembly instead.”

“Man, you need to relax.” Ridge says, scooping up a spiky gumball that’s fallen from one of the nearby sweetgum trees. He tosses it in her direction, scoring a hit on her data slate and causing her to flinch on reflex; the brittle husk bounces off the slate without leaving any mark. “We’re on a camping trip. The kids are gone. The sun is shining; the temperature is perfect for a nap, and it’s just the sound of the wind and the birds. Put the slate down and ease up, ‘Chiko.”

Renchiko sighs, then locks the screen of her data slate and sets it on the ground beside her hammock. “Fine. It is nice out today… and it’s nice to look up at a blue sky. It’s been a while since we’ve been planetside to a world that wasn’t being assimilated by the Collective.”

“Yeah, about that. Why aren’t they trying to assimilate this world? They love bringing new genetic material into the Collective, right? And there’s barely anything here to keep them from assimilating the entire world.”

“The Marshies have something in the Genista outpost that the Collective wants. They’re not here for this world; they’re here for whatever is in the outpost.”

“And throwing giant bugs and lizards and dinosaurs at it is the best way to get it? I don’t buy it.”

“It’s probably not the best way to get it, but they might be using these attacks as trial runs to try out new Leviathan designs. A testing ground for their giant monsters, refining the designs before using them on other battlefields.”

“So they want something bad enough to throw giant monsters at it while completely ignoring assimilating an entire world, but they’re also using it as an excuse to test drive their new monster designs? That makes no sense.”

“The Collective doesn’t think the way we do. And they don’t do things for the same reasons we do. You can’t treat them like a normal nation, because they’re not — it’s literally impossible to corrupt their internal affairs with politics and personal ambition. Everything they do is for the expansion of the Collective, and there is always a grander, more complex strategy at play.”

“Mm. I’m not a fan. And after the last three years we’ve had, I’m starting to think Prophet wasn’t completely in the wrong.”

“Don’t let Songbird catch you saying that.”

“Yeah, I know, I know… but let’s face it, what are you supposed to do against something like the Collective? They take worlds, and then when you fight back, they use it as justification to take more worlds… you have to draw the line somewhere. If you don’t escalate, if you keep playing by ‘the rules’, they’ll eventually gobble up everything.”

“I don’t have an answer for you. That’s a problem people have been working on for centuries.”

“Pretty sure we already know the answer, it’s just that nobody’s comfortable with it.”

The conversation lulls after that, and for a bit, it’s just the sound of the birds and bugs in the midday warmth. After a little bit of silence, Ridge speaks up as another curiosity roams across his mind.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about this recently. Maybe you know the answer, since you’re the expert on Titan stuff. What’s the whole deal with empath pilots always being straight?”

“Mmm?”

“Copiloting. Empath piloting, I think that’s what you guys call it? Why is it always straight people?”

“I mean… well, it doesn’t have to be.”

“Yeah, but it is, right? All the Genista pilots are in male-female pairs. Same thing with Songbird and Kiwi. And didn’t Songbird pilot with your mom way back when? It’s always straight pairs.”

“It’s… okay, I get that, but your sexual orientation has nothing to do with your piloting skills. It’s got nothing to do with the entire process, actually.”

“Mmm, sure, you say that…”

“I do say that. What Genista is doing with their pilots… honestly, it’s just weird. All of it is weird; there’s a lot of weird stuff going on here, which is probably why they’re running this test squad out here on a restricted world that doesn’t have a lot of eyes on it. But for the pairings… I don’t know why they have them paired off like that. My working theory is that they may be trying to stabilize each pair by pairing them off with the opposite sex. From the research I’ve seen coming out of pilot academies, young men are more competitive when they’re teenagers, so they often don’t pair well if they’re vying for dominance. For girls, they’re just… they have more emotional variability, so if you pair them with each other, that sometimes gets amplified in a way that wrecks their sync rate. That’s not always the case, but that’s what the numbers coming out of pilot academies suggest. And then when they grow up and become adults, they tend to stabilize and it’s easier for them to copilot with the same gender once they’re more mature.”

“Hmm. Sounds to me like empath piloting is for straight people.”

“Ridge, I just told you that sexual orientation has nothing to do with it.”

“You also told me that male-female pairs are more stable.”

“I did. That has nothing to do with sexuality. Do you know how limiting it would be if you had to be sexually attracted to your copilot in order to pilot?”

“I mean, isn’t that how Kiwi and Songbird roll?”

“Yeah, but that’s— they’re different. I think the only reason that even works is because they’re in a relationship, because Kiwi’s got bugger-all when it comes to Titan training. The point is, that’s not standard. Being attracted to your partner isn’t a prerequisite for empath piloting. Sexuality has nothing to do with it.”

“You just said sexuality is the only way Kiwi and Songbird make it work.”

“I did not! I said it was because they’re in a relationship. If anything, it’s love that makes that work.”

“So if you love someone, you can technically pilot an empath Titan with them?”

“No! No, no, no, no, no! Gods, why am I even trying to explain this to you? You’re never gonna pilot a Titan.”

“Oi. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means! You are not going to put in the thousands of hours of work and study that it takes to learn how to pilot a Titan when you barely managed to graduate with the digital tutor we had after we joined the Valiant. We both know that.”

“Excuse you, I could totally put in the work if I wanted to.”

“And you don’t want to!”

“Okay, but Kiwi didn’t put in the work either, and she’s copiloting with Songbird.”

“Yeah, because they have a really strong bond, and she’s always going to be second seat because she doesn’t have the training or background to be the lead pilot!”

“So what I’m hearing is that it’s possible, if I’m willing to ride shotgun, and I can find an empath pilot to fall in love with.”

“You’re impossible. I’m not discussing this with you anymore; you’re just trying to annoy me at this point.”

“Look, you’re the one that keeps on handing out contradicting information.”

“No, I’m trying to explain a complex, highly technical topic to someone that just barely scraped through math with passing grade. It’s like trying to explain fusion reactors to a second-grader. You get the core concept, that we need to smash things together really fast to create a new atom, which creates energy, but you don’t grasp the nuances, like needing a torus tokamak, and having to deal with neutron radiation and chamber degradation, and needing to sustain the reaction long enough to pay off the initial energy debt, and that fact that you can only fuse variations of the first two elements on the elemental table, and so much more. All of that is going right over your head.”

“Probably for the best. That stuff sounds like it’d give me a headache.”

“You’re giving me a headache!”

“Whatever. I think I’m gonna take a nap now. I was gonna say wake me up when Kiwi and Songbird and the kids get back, but honestly, I’d prefer to stay asleep for as long as possible.”

“Fine, go take your nap. I could do with some peace and quiet.”

“Funny, that’s the same thing I said when Songbird and Kiwi took the kids on a hike.”

“Shut up and go to sleep. I need to focus on finding these schematics.”

Event Log: 10/11/12768

Halcyon: Baleygachu Lake

10:43am LPT

Morning finds the squad and their chauffeurs up and milling around the fire, where Songbird is making a point of teaching the Genista pilots how to cook, and having them take turns making bacon and eggs. Reception of this exercise is mixed; some are excited to learning something new, and others quickly find that they much prefer having their meals prepared for them. As can be expected for teenagers getting accustomed to live fires, there are some burned fingers, but nothing too severe. While Songbird would be able to heal these injuries, he refrains from doing so — pain was a necessary educator, especially when it came to developing a respect for fire and its destructive capabilities.

The group is not all in one place, though; Visi has wandered off down by the lake’s edge, and having noticed this, Kiwi heads over to check on her. The layer of mist over the lake is quickly burning away as the sun rises higher in the sky, and normally the lake itself would be still and clear as glass — but ripples are spreading across it, promulgated by the stones that Visi is skipping across the water.

“Alright kid, spit it out. What’s with the edgy loner thing that’s going on here?” Kiwi asks as she arrives, tromping down to the lakeside with her hands in her jacket pockets.

Visi just glares at Kiwi, and moves down the shore of the lake a few strides, in search of a flat stone to throw.

“Look, don’t make me go get Songbird for this.” Kiwi huffs, following after her. “I ain’t good with kids. So if you don’t want me to treat you like one, behave like an adult and stop sulking around.”

“Did he send you out here to check on me?” Visi mutters, scooping up a stone and looking it over. “Try and get me to come back to the group and pretend like there’s nothing wrong?”

“He didn’t tell me to, but he gave me a look, and that was close enough.” Kiwi says as Visi crouches and washes the stone in the lake to get all the sand off it. “So spit it out. What’s the deal?”

“You seriously don’t know? Well, in case you forgot, I crashed out in the middle of the last operation.” Visi says, straightening up. “Me and Latti came in dead last on the performance rankings for that mission. We look like a joke compared to the rest of the squad.”

“Okay. So what? You had a bad mission, shit happens. Get up, dust yourself off, and keep moving.” Kiwi says, taking her hands out of her jacket. “Nobody’s going to remember that a month from now. Lustra and Torian literally faceplanted their Titan into the ground on the second operation; everyone laughed about it for a week, and then we moved on. That’s life. Learn from your mistakes and do better on the next round.”

“It wasn’t a mistake, it’s not something I can fix—” Visi retorts with agitation, starting to line up to throw her stone, then turning to point back towards the camp. “It’s him, it’s Latti. He’s just so… you wouldn’t get it. Your copilot is legendary.”

“Oh, so this is about copilots, then.” Kiwi chuckles, leaning down to scoop up a stone. “Well, don’t get shy now. Tell me what the problem with Latti is. He seems pretty chill to me.”

“That is the problem! He’s always so… he’s too relaxed, too calm, even when we’re in danger. Syncing with him is just…” Visi lets out an aggravated sigh, then slings the stone across the lake, where it skips four times before going under. “I can’t match that. There’s no rhythm. He’s like this lake in the morning — it’s just flat; there’s nothing there for me to work with. I feel like I’m trying to make myself braindead whenever I try to sync with him.”

“Calm is usually a good thing, right?” Kiwi says as she crouches down to start washing her stone in the lake. “That’s what Valkyrie keeps telling me, at least. That I’m ‘emotionally volatile’ and I should work on regulating my impulses while I’m in the pilot chamber.”

“Yeah, I guess… I dunno. They trained us to be calm and composed, but that was in training. In the real thing, when you’re actually fighting, it’s hard to stay calm and composed when there’s a giant monster trying to rip you apart.” Visi puffs, running a hand through her crimson hair. “Latti manages it, somehow… but I just can’t do that. I want to live. I get scared when there’s a giant lizard charging me. I can’t stay calm when that’s happening. He does, but… am I the problem? It’s not normal to be calm when you’re fighting for your life, is it?”

Kiwi pulls her stone out of the water, turning it over as she studies it. “I’m not calm when I’m fighting for my life. I know people that are, though. Latti might be one of them. Have you tried to get him, like… un-calm?”

“I’ve tried to get him to match me, but he won’t. And he’s got our training to back him up. We’re supposed to stay calm while we’re piloting, so that’s what he does. I don’t know how.” Visi says, kicking sand into the lake. “He’s like an anchor sometimes, just dragging me down when we’re in the ocean. It helps a little bit, whenever I’m starting to go off the rails, but most times it’s a fight to try and stay synchronized with him.”

“Maybe you need a different partner.” Kiwi suggests as her wristmarks glow to life, and she presses one of the green runes to the stone in her hands.

“Easy for you to say; you’ve already got the perfect partner.” Visi mutters.

“I’ve got the perfect partner now.” Kiwi says, flipping the stone over and pressing another rune to it. “It took me years to find him, and I went through dozens of partners in the meantime. And even then, it doesn’t mean everything’s perfect or easy. I’ve got no pilot training, meaning that I have to let him have control whenever we get in that pilot chamber. And that’s… I’m not good at giving up control. It’s hard, because I’ve spent my entire life trying to be in control, trying to be in charge of my life. But I trust him.”

Visi glances at Kiwi. “Dozens? There’s no way you’ve had that many partners; you’re not old enough for that.”

Kiwi gives Visi a flat look. “I’m almost fifty, kid. Trust me, I’ve had more than enough time for all the partners I’ve had.”

“What? No you’re not.” Visi scoffs, waving a hand at her. “You’re… you’re… like… young. You’re not middle-aged.”

“I’m a Maskling. I can hold myself in my twenties by burning my Maskbearer’s life force at twice the rate it would normally burn if I was letting myself physically age.”

Visi looks suspicious of that. “…I didn’t know Masklings could do that.”

“Yeah, well. Everybody hates us, so nobody ever bothers to learn anything about us.”

“So if you’re almost fifty…”

“Songbird is almost fifty too, don’t worry. I’m not robbing the cradle.” Kiwi says, standing back up. “He’s a vampire, and he got baptized in his twenties. He pays for his eternal youth is the same way every vampire does, by sipping on a pint of blood once a month.”

“Must be nice.” Visi mutters.

“Oh, stop bitchin’. You’re sixteen, you’ve got plenty of time to be young and dumb.” Kiwi says, starting to limber up for a throw, stretching her arm. “So how about it? Is there anyone in the squad you wanna swap partners with?”

“I mean, I’m not sure anyone wants to give up their partner…”

“Nobody that wants to admit to it, at least. Because just like you, they think it’ll be embarrassing. But if you open up to others, admit that you might want to try a different partner, they might do the same.” Kiwi says, repositioning the stone in her hand so that the edge fits neatly into the curve of her forefinger. “Never hurts to try. Although you should probably bring it up with you current partner first and let him know that you’d like to see if you match better with another pilot. Do you think that’ll upset him?”

“I don’t think so. He’s usually relaxed and doesn’t let much bother him. I think he’d only get upset if he wasn’t compatible with the person that he gets swapped to.” Visi says, staring out across the lake.

“Good, then you can have that conversation on your own without needing an adult to supervise it.” Kiwi says, turning sideways and closing one eye as she starts to line up her throw. “So your assignment today is that you go talk to him about it, and then you can bring up a partner swap tonight around the fire, when everyone’s together. If you’re too embarrassed, me or Songbird can bring it up for you and get the conversation started. Sound good?”

“Yeah. I guess. I’ll talk to Latti, and if it’s not too much, can you or Songbird bring up the partner swapping thing tonight?” Visi asks, tucking her hands in her pockets.

“Yeah, we can handle that. I’ll tell Songbird when I’ve got a moment with him.” Kiwi says, whipping her arm and slinging the stone at the lake. It hits the surface and bounces with a green ripple, soaring on a long, low arc before bouncing again, and again, and again, until it disappears into the fading mist.

Visi stares out across the lake in shock. “How’d you do that? You made it… like, halfway across the lake!”

Kiwi smiles, tapping her head. “Don’t give Songbird all the credit. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve too.” With that, she turns and starts heading back up the shore to the camp, with Visi scrambling to follow her.

“Wait, can you teach me how to do that? Does it have something to do with those symbols around your wrist? Why are you laughing like that?…”

Event Log: 10/11/12768

Halcyon: Baleygachu Lake

11:01pm LPT

The sun has set when Songbird finds himself on the shore of the lake, tucking one of his earbuds in as he pulls out his phone and skims through his playlist. Settling on one of his easy listening playlists, he tucks his phone back in his jacket, stepping out onto the water; but before his boot hits the lake, a platform of light forms beneath it, shimmering in pale pink and violet hues. It easily supports his weight as he settles into a comfortable stride, platform after platform materializing beneath every step, as he makes his way to where a dark shape is disturbing the stillness of the lake beneath a double-moon sky.

As he draws nearer, he begins to slow down, and when the shape notices him, it turns and begins swimming in his direction. Eventually, he comes to a stop, his platform hanging a few inches above the water as Kiwi grabs the edge of it and pulls herself up out of the water enough to fold her arms on it.

“You all good out here?” he asks as she slicks her wet hair out of her face.

“Yeah. Just needed to clear my head for a bit, get some space away from the kids.” she says, resting her chin on her arms. “Being around them is a lot. I thought I liked socializing, but there’s just never a quiet moment around them. Someone’s always running their mouth… some of them just can’t stop yappin’.” She pauses to blow a bit of water out of her nose. “I think I get what Ridge is saying about the kids wearing him out. They really do wear on you after a while, don’t they.”

“One or two kids usually isn’t an issue, but once you get past five of them in a single group, you hit a sort of critical mass where they just keep going until they wear each other out.” Songbird says, folding down to sit on the platform. “We’ll be packing up and heading back to the outpost tomorrow, though. We’ll be able to get a bit of respite once we’ve returned.”

“I guess that’s nice.” Kiwi says, lazily treading water as she looks around the still, dark lake. “It’ll be nice to get away from the kids for a bit. But I don’t really want to leave here. I’m liking it… it would be nice if you and I could go on a camping trip sometime, just the two of us.”

“I’d like that too. A little time to get away from it all, and just enjoy the tranquility of nature.” he says, looking at the moonlit mountains around them. “I doubt we’ll get it, though. Not sure if you heard, but the galaxy’s in the middle of a war right now.”

“Eh. I might’ve heard a thing or two about it. Rumors about some brave soldiers piloting giant robots and using them to fight off giant monsters on some no-name world.” Kiwi says with a smirk.

“Yeah. Something along those lines.” Songbird says, reaching down to stir a finger in the water. “I noticed you left your clothes on the shore when I was walking out here.”

Kiwi grins and takes her arms off the platform, dropping back into the water so she can twist around in the water to float on her back. “Did you now?”

He chuckles, shaking his head before trailing the finger he has in the water over to her. “I did.” he says, slowly tracing it over her shoulder and along her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, then idly roaming downwards from there until it reaches her sternum. At that point, with his chin resting on one knee, his eyes flick over to her, as if silently asking her if he was allowed to continue.

She gives him a bemused look. “Feroce. You should know by know that I don’t mind. I want you to show me that you want me.”

“I should, shouldn’t I… forgive my hesitation, then.” he says as his finger continues moving, tracing the defined contour of her midriff beneath a shallow layer of water. “Even after all this time, I’m still surprised that you want me.”

Kiwi rolls her eyes, twisting in the water so she can grab the edge of the platform of light, haul herself up out of the water and straight into Songbird’s lap before he can scoot out of the way. Bracing her arms on his chest, she leans in close. “Why wouldn’t I want you, Feroce Acceso. You’re handsome, you’re dangerous, and you’re a big soft romantic that knows how to cook and sing and draw and pilot giant robots. You’re the whole package, and the girl that passed on you — she doesn’t know what she gave up. Or she had brain damage. I’m willing to bet it’s the second one.”

That gets a short little laugh out of Songbird as he leans his head against Kiwi’s. “Yeah… yeah, that might explain a few things. Also, you got me soaking wet now.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“It’s your hook, line, and sinker. And I’d be taking the bait if there weren’t a dozen people at the campsite that can still see us from here.”

“Pah. Moodkillers. To think, I’d be getting laid on the lake underneath the pale moonlight if it weren’t for them.”

“Well, when you describe it that way, it does sound pretty romantic…”

“Are you kidding me? That’s not just romantic, that’s cinematic! That’s the kind of impractical sex that people in movies and holos have!”

“Hahaha! It is, isn’t it?… speaking of impractical, aren’t you cold? The water felt pretty cool when I stuck my finger in there earlier.”

“It is, yeah, but it helps me clear my head and focus. Besides, I’m counting on you to keep me warm, since my clothes are back on the shore.”

“If you say so. You already know that vampires run a lower body temp on average, so…”

“It’s warm enough.”

“Alright.” He hooks an arm around her as she rests her head again his collarbone, curling up against him. “If you walk back with me, I’ll have to give you my jacket so you can be decent when we get back to shore. Can’t be corrupting the youth and all that.”

“I think I’ll walk back with you, yeah. Don’t want to get my feet all sandy, tromping back through the shallows.” She’s quiet for a moment, then: “The partner swap thing went better than expected. Latti took it pretty well, and Rumo seemed eager to swap with Visi. I think Stratos was the only one that wasn’t sure about it.”

“Yeah, it took him off guard. I don’t blame him for being hesitant. But if he’s able to sync reasonably well with Visi, I think he’ll become more comfortable with it.” Songbird says, tilting his head back and staring up at the double moons and the starry sky. “It isn’t easy, being an empath pilot. I imagine it’s even harder when you’re a hormonal teenager, on top of it.”

“I feel sorry for them.” Kiwi says softly. “They remind me of myself. Being trained as weapons before they’ve even turned eighteen… it’s not a good thing, but at least I know that it happens to other people as well, even in different nations.”

Songbird tilts his head back down, pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to take them on this field trip. They’re still kids. They should have the chance to feel like kids. To be kids. To play like kids.”

“It wasn’t for training them?”

“That’s just how I sold it to the project lead. The real reason was to get them out of the outpost and give them a chance to see and do some of the things that normal kids get to see and do.”

“…you really are a good person, you know that? I’ll never understand how CURSE tricked the galaxy into thinking you were the bad guy for fifteen years.”

“I just do what I can to make the galaxy the kind of place I’d want to live in.”

“You do so much more than that.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would. Let’s go ahead and head back now; I think I’m ready to get some dessert and settle down for the night.”

“Alright. Here’s my jacket — zipper’s right— yeah, there…”

Event Log: 10/12/12768

Halcyon: somewhere over the Baleyga Mountain Range

10:20am LPT

“Alright, most of the little terrors are settled in. Between staying up late, getting up early, and packing up camp, it seems like most of them are tuckered out.” Ridge says once he’s closed the door of cockpit behind himself. “I think most of them are gonna be sleeping it off on the flight back to the outpost.”

“Yeah, that’s about how it goes on the way back from a camping trip.” Songbird says from the pilot’s seat. “We’ll have them unpack the supplies once they get back to the outpost, teach them how to air everything out and clean up, and once they’ve handled that, they can go get showers and spend the rest of the day settling back in. It usually helps to have a bit of time to wind down after a camping trip.”

“Seems like they were startin’ to grow on you, Ridge.” Kiwi remarks from the copilot’s seat. “Once you started showing them your Crystallizer party tricks, that is.”

“Ahhh, what can I say.” Ridge demurs with false modesty as he sits down in one of the seats and laces his hands behind his head. “I might not be able to pilot giant robots, but I can teleport and throw crystal knives. Kids love that.”

“Don’t inflate his ego. It’s already big enough.” Renchiko says from the seat where she’s reading through a recent report from Sunthorn. “If it gets any bigger, he won’t be able to warp around because of how massive it is.”

“You’re just jealous they like me more than you. I’m the cool uncle.” Ridge claims, waving a hand.

“I’m glad you’re coming around to them. Just make sure you’re modeling good behavior.” Songbird says as clouds slide past the forward window of the cockpit. “Teenagers internalize the behaviors of the adults around them. As an example, you picked up a lot of Kiwi’s sass.”

Kiwi narrows her eyes at Songbird. “I’m not sure if I should take that as an insult.”

“As if. All of this is one-hundred percent original Ridge.” Ridge scoffs. “Ain’t got nobody to blame for this work of art except myself.”

“Even if that were true, I’m not sure it’s something you want to brag about.” Renchiko says, sitting forward in her chair with her data slate in hand. “But even if you are one-hundred percent original, it looks like we’ve found something that isn’t. Is the door to the cockpit locked, Ridge?”

Ridge leans over, twisting the deadbolt knob. “It is now. Did we get in some spicy new information from Sunthorn?”

“We did. Big Brother, you’ll want to see this.” she says as she starts organizing the windows on the screen on her data slate. “I finished decrypting the report that Command sent us. Valkyrie and Legaci finished the genetic sequencing for the samples we snuck from the Genista pilots. Kaiser checked the results and confirmed.” She holds the data slate out to Songbird. “It’s what we suspected it was.”

Putting the RV on autopilot, Songbird takes the data slate, his eyes flicking over the screen and skimming the numbers and text. It isn’t long before he’s rolling his lips together, taking a deep breath and slowly letting out. Ridge, not knowing what to make of that, leans forward, glancing between Renchiko and Kiwi. “Okay? So what’s that mean? What’s going on with the Genista kids?”

Renchiko’s eyes flick towards the passenger cabin before returning to the others, her mouth drawing in a slant as she laces her fingers together.

“They’re Cherriki clones. Every last one of them.”