Tap…tap…tap
Her steps echoed along the silver metal walls, the lights above giving her just enough light to avoid tripping over her own feet. Vending machines sat spaced out beside benches littered here and there. The handful of floors she'd explored so far were packed with more areas than she could count.
Some looked like decent lounges, others were cafeterias of every conceivable size and open atriums that connected to the floors above—but never through the decks. Their stairs were built from concrete, metal, and glass, aged enough to seem livable. Small galleries lined certain hallways, selling whatever they could to whomever happened to pass by while the fancier shops sat recessed against the walls.
Rectangular ductwork stretched overhead, pulling and pushing air through the vessel. The persistent buzzing from the HVAC gave her a strange sense of peace, the white noise filling her mind.
"I don't even know where I'm going…I'm just walking in circles."
Her voice barely rose above the steady drone in the background. Sierra practically floated down the quiet corridor, lazily munching on a sugar stick—each crunch reverberating faintly behind her as she watched her own shadow dance over the floor.
Her feet carried her everywhere and nowhere—until she passed a narrow hallway. Sierra stopped and pivoted on her heel before taking a brisk right turn without a second thought.
She found herself staring at two people guarding a door, the short hallway bathed in soft lighting. One was a librei, the other a mustela—both stationed in front of whatever lay behind the metal door.
Their faces were carved by boredom and mild irritation. The librei leaned against the wall with their arms crossed and their mostly dark blue gear wrapped around their body—clearly wishing they were anywhere else. The mustela on the other hand, sat behind a small desk with a sheathed knife resting near one corner while he scrolled lazily through his phone, his ears flicking about with every press.
Sierra's quiet munching finally caught their attention, the feathered person turned her way the moment her footsteps drew themselves.
The leaning librei pushed himself upright and uncrossed his arms, his stare boring straight through her while she stopped in front of the desk.
"Sup."
The mustela didn't look up from his phone—his voice was flat, bored and completely uninterested. Sierra chewed the last of her sugar stick and tossed both the empty wrapper and the stick into the bin beside the desk. Her eyes drifted to the tablet lying face down, then to the small metal sign bolted to the door—Cantina, faintly etched into the silver surface, barely readable from where she stood.
"What do you want."
This time it came from the librei who planted himself in front of the door, his irritation leaking through every syllable. His gloved hand curled into a fist—the once tan material worn nearly black from it's long use.
Sierra stayed quiet for a moment before finally answering.
"I wanna pass through...so, uh…how much?"
Her voice cracked through the stale air, turning it into something awkward. A long, resigned sigh escaped the fluffy eared man behind the desk.
The dulled, purple haired mustela finally looked up from his phone, turning it off and setting it faced down.
He looked like he wanted to complain about the injustice of being alive, his round white ears forced to stay upright—his very exhausted eyes staring back into hers.
"You don't even know what's back there."
Sierra paused for a moment before speaking up, lifting her finger slightly with a small smile forming on her face, it felt like blood rushing to her head after standing up to stretch from a day of slouching around.
"And why wouldn't I?"
The knife came free from it used sheath, the blade was a dull silver that slowly shifted in color, like metal hovering over a hot flame—until it settled into a dark, muted purplish red.
He remained unamused, reaching across the desk for the tablet.
Her eyes flickered to the librei stepping closer, the spotted pattern of his feathers scattered through his hair.
"ID?"
Sierra pulled up her clutch bag and popped it open, searching through for her ID before giving it to the man who snatched it—he glanced between her face and the card with a skeptical look on his face.
"When were you born?"
Just the question itself forced her brows to pitch lightly, though she kept herself steady before answering.
"Sixteen O' eight."
Her tone was dull like a rock, the librei handed her ID back without ceremony. She slipped it into her bag and closed it with a quiet snap.
The mustela finished tapping on the tablet, then slid it toward her before turning the screen around.
"Its just a couple hundred." The mustela said, waiting for her input.
Sierra dragged her finger across the screen until she couldn't scroll any farther, not even pretending to read the terms and conditions before signing away and tapping accept. The screen flipped to another window immediately—another paywall. She willed it forward and an outline popped up with a string of numbers at the top.
A balance of five hundred thirty seven dollars flashed to its side with a minus sign. A moment later, the screen shifted again.
An opaque bell in the top right of her view flashed a buzzing red, dancing about without stopping. . Sierra glanced at it once and it quieted down immediately—the little icon turning yellow and motionless.
The mustela dragged the tablet back his way while the librei stepped aside, giving the metal door behind him a heavy bang.
Her feet moved before she even thought about it. Another door waited ahead and the moment the metal door shut behind her, this one swung open. Her ears perked at the Rat Pack music drifting through the background.
A handful of guards lounged around in outfits identical to the librei behind her. To her left, a small band played calmly, their music blending into the chatter of the patrons scattered throughout.
Sierra walked through the sea of mostly normal looking folk and dropped herself onto a stool at the counter.
She let her weary feet rest, plopping her bag between her legs and idly soaking in the warmth of the room for a while.
The music settled into her bones, soothing her spirit as her head dipped in slow tired bobs. Her body tried to steal rest wherever it could—if she were home, she would've slept through the entire day and worked through the night without complaint.
clnk—!
Her eyes instantly darted up, staring straight into the bartenders own—an empty glass cup sat between them, catching the dim light above in its clear surface.
The man behind it had a pleasant face, his short coelhinho ears standing neatly at attention before placing his palm on the counter.
"What can I get started for you?"
Sierra's mind churned for a moment before her brain finally spat out an answer and at the same time, pushing herself upright from the counter.
"Anything that'll keep me awake." She paused. "Whatever you've got."
The bartender nodded once and turned away.
She watched him work—nothing flashy, nothing showy. He pulled a slim bottle from the shelf, the label scuffed from the many uses and poured a measured shot into a metal shaker. The bartender then reached for a another bottle sitting on the prep counter, its cap barely visible to her. A dark syrup followed shortly after, hitting the steel with a low tap.
He tossed in a handful of ice cubes that clattered sharply, then snapped the shaker shut.
His wrists rolled the metal with talented ease, his shoulders moving in a relaxed rhythm for a short while.
When he opened it, a cloud of cold mist drifted upward.
—then he popped the lid off and strained the drink into the waiting glass before pushing it her way with a professional smile.
"There. This should help."
Sierra wrapped her hand around the glass and took a quick peek at the drink, pulling it close enough to give it a brief sniff.
It carried a faint sweetness with something sharper she couldn't quite place into words. She gave it a cautious sip—then downed the rest in a few long swallows. Her metaphorical feathered tail practically wagged behind her, her eyes lifting a little from their drowsy half lidded state.
"Here."
She gazed back up at the bar and pointed at him while snapping her fingers, willing the payment forward.
The bracelet on his right wrist flickered a few times, and at the same time, a hundred dollars vanished from her account in an instant.
"By chance—" Sierra lowered her hand before tracing a slow line around the rim of her empty glass.
"…You wouldn't happen to know a place where I can take on some work, would you?"
Her voice dipped near the end, her hand falling still as she fixed him a stare—waiting and watching the small changes in his expression.
But his expression didn't change much, the bartender reached deeper into the prep counter—somewhere she couldn't see, then slid a simple card across the counter. Sierra dragged it toward herself while he took her empty cup away to wash.
She flipped the card over, reading the thin strips of information pasted across it. The instructions were straightforward enough.
…I didn't think they'd have one here too.
She stood and glanced around before spotting a passage on the opposite side of where the little band played. A sign hung that above the entrance glowed bright green, flickering every few seconds.
Sierra pushed her stool back in and headed toward the passage.
I just need to make a left at the end, tap this card, and knock. Right?
Her footsteps was barely any louder than the background noise. A few too many steps later and passed a restroom, another door waited ahead—standing between her and whatever lay beyond.
Her eyes wandered for a moment before landing on the card reader. She tapped the card against it after and the indicator blinked green, the lock clicking open at the same time.
Sierra hesitated briefly, then pushed the door wide enough to slip through. She stepped inside and shut it behind her in one motion.
The first thing that hit her was the faint stale air, followed by the low hum of something deeper than murmurs passing through the space, and—
That familiar ambiance from a lifetime ago.
For a split second she could almost see her younger self sprinting through a similar place, learning about the world one mistake at a time.
She shook her head lightly to scatter the memory.
"Huh…not bad at all."
In front of her sat two old brown leather sofas with a table dab in the middle, all three sunk into a shallow depression in the floor. A handful of people were lounging there—chatting, drinking or wasting time one way or another.
To her left stretched a small cafeteria, busy with people chowing down on meals of every size. Groups clustered together, some clearly guards assigned to the vessel, others of similar professions looking for fresh regions to wander into.
Her feet carried her through all the little pockets inside, her eyes searching for something specific.
After a few minutes, she finally found it—a man typing away on a laptop, tucked far from everyone else. Sierra sat down in front of him, her bottom sinking into the cushioned seat with a soft thud while his slightly pointed ears twitched at her arrival.
"I almost mistook you for an Elfin, heh."
The man shut his eyes and sighed, the disappointment was written plain across his face. Sierra's gaze drifted to his tail that was no thicker than her wrist, colored close to her own tufts but spotted and rough looking.
"As if you'd ever see them here. There's no way they'd live anywhere near a place like this."
His tone was flat that bordered on exasperated. His greenish irises flicked up from the laptop screen, unimpressed at her quip.
"Oh? Is that so, mister Lacerti?"
Sierra's voice carried a rare spark of liveliness, a smug glint slid across her eyes.
"Don't use my race as an insult."
The rough tailed man finally looked up from his laptop.
"Alright then—what do you need?"
She paused, thinking harder than she probably needed to. "Let's see…uhh...how many stops we've got, what there is to do around here, and—" Her eyes drifted around the room without settling on anything before turning his way, the background fading into a blur.
The next thing she knew, she was already back in her room.
Ugh—fuck these papers. Why didn't I just do them yesterday? Now look at me. Brilliant, Sierra. Real smart.
Her mind complained on repeat, even while she typed away at her reports.
Even at her age, her body wanted to protest these boring details—Sierra felt like kicking her feet at the sheer amount she had to write. She wouldn't get paid until she finished, even if the job itself was a failure.
She raised her arms high, grabbing one wrist and stretched her whole body out.
"mmnn—haa…"
Blood rushed to her head, forcing a yawn out of her before she glanced at the date on the bottom left corner of her laptop. January twentieth—it had only been a week since she'd returned. Her gaze slid toward the sleeping feline beside her, Ikade's long furred tail draped across her face like a blanket of soft fluff.
The sleeping feline curled up with her ears floppy for a change.
A handful of more key presses, and she was nearly done after an hour of typing and reading.
A few more key presses brought her to the end of the report. After nearly an hour of typing and rereading, she finally tapped the screen and signed the dotted line at the bottom, pressing save and sending it off in the same motion to a certain old man.
ding~
Ugh. Who could that be?
She shut the laptop the rest of the way and stood up, setting it on the nearby counter before heading toward the front door.
Sierra peered through the peephole, moving her head slightly until her view landed on a small trolley waiting outside. A lightbulb flicked on over her head, she opened the door—only to be greeted by a smiling face drawn on a balloon.
It was a delivery bot.
She glanced past the doorframe and quickly scooped up the bag perched on the trolley's rack. The machine rolled away the moment she lifted the last one off, a cheerful little tune playing with each turn of its wheels.
A small flicker of amusement crossed her face watching it go. Turning back inside, she closed the door and set the bags on the counter beside her laptop.
Right when she was about to sit down, her bracelet buzzed against her skin.
She lifted her wrist, a small screen flickered into view—a simple but effective notice showing the vessel's outline with a single word at the top.
Departing Soon.
Two words actually, but that was beside the point.
A grin pulled at her lips, she waited for the countdown to finish and soon enough, her bracelet buzzed again.
The room vibrated softly at first…then more…and more again. The floor trembled under their feet, the walls humming hard enough to make her body feel weird. Ikade rolled straight off the couch, panic stamped across her face.
"Hee?!"
Sierra abandoned ship and ducked behind the counter, listening to the feline's panic rising by the second.
"Nani?! Nani?!Nani?! Nani?!Nan—?!"
Ikade's voice slurred into one long, frantic sound, calling out to her with her desperation barely hidden.
Sierra kicked off her slippers and crept toward her on tiptoe. Ikade was halfway to standing when Sierra wrapped her arms around her waist and lifted her clean off the floor. The feline let out a very unflattering word before flailing wildly.
"Let go! Damn pervert, let go!"
A stray kick caught Sierra in the stomach, and another was hard enough to make her lose balance.
She hit the ground with a silent grunt, her bottom taking most of the impact. Ikade tumbled free, spinning around with an expression that of a little boss.
"Uff!"
Sierra tried to scoot away but couldn't get far. Ikade raised both hands as if to pin her—and promptly straddled her. Sierra intercepted the dainty hands mid-pounce and a quick tug of war erupted between them. Ikade huffed and puffed, pushing with all her might but she barely managed to move Sierra's hands an inch.
The librei's smug expression didn't her help mood much.
Sierra intertwined their fingers and rubbed the back of Ikade's hand. For a moment she let Ikade think she was winning—only to shove her back with a swift push.
"What's wrong?~ Going soft on me? You used to be so fierce back when we met."
Ikade's ears turned several shades redder, her hair moving everywhere before she backed up a little and turning to her side.
"My strength is sealed! That's all!"
Her voice squealed at the end, her eyes darting around the room. She barely got the words out before yelping again—Sierra already blowing her fluffy ears above.
"Oh? So you're a chunni after all."
They kept fooling around for nearly twenty minutes before finally ending up back in the living room, their surroundings no longer shaking or rattling off.
The blast door that was the window to the outside groaned, the two looked up at it, watching it unfold like a blind.
They stood up, brushing the dust from each other's clothes with quick pats.
Sierra caught Ikade's expectant look and nudged her gently from behind, guiding her closer to the window. She stepped in beside her and held her dainty hand.
Their eyes adjusted to the glare spilling in, but—
It wasn't what Ikade had imagined.
"I kinda hoped it'd look…different, y'know?"
The feline glanced at her, their hair blowing softly with the wind whistling softly. Ikade's shoulder drooped a little while Sierra squeezed her hand lightly.
It was a sad sight, the dirt was dry, little sand dunes forming about with the sight on small canyons forming all over the place. Here and there, patches of green scattered sparsely clung to where small pockets of water had pooled.
Sierra could almost feel the heat radiating off the emptiness, the old, familiar sound of survival waiting to swallow her whole.
And the abundance of beasts waiting their turn.
"It'll be fine! Not everywhere looks like this. C'mon, you didn't forget that already, right?"
Sierra stepped closer and bumped her shoulder against Ikade's, trying to lift the wilted cat's spirits.
"Give it a few days. You'll see more than just dirt, promise."
She dragged the wilted cat toward the front door and the two of them slipped into their shoes before grabbing their purses.
"How about we go on a date, mhm?" Ikade only gave a soft nod, curiosity flicking through her ears—Sierra tugged her along.
Sierra led her through the countless halls of the vessel, their footsteps soft against the metal floors. Ikade's mood lifted bit by bit, her ears rising a little higher with every corner they turned. Eventually, they stumbled across a small exhibition tucked near the ship's midsection—Ikade's eyes lit up instantly.
"Whoa…they're way bigger than I expected."
This time, it was Ikade pulling her, dragging Sierra deeper into the free exhibit while the two gazed up.
A massive skeleton hung from the ceiling. The wildefowl's talons alone dwarfed both of them. Ikade let go of her hand and practically speed walked around the displays, her excitement carrying her from one section to another.
The beast—once draped in feathers, though more like fur—was stripped clean, leaving its pristine skeleton on full display. Sierra's eyes drifted toward the rear of the creature, noting down the four smaller tails branching out alongside the main one.
A creature like that could have fed a small village for weeks.
But this wasn't the only place they wandered into. The two walked through every corner that caught their interest, taking pictures of anything that fancied them—whether it was a fancy drink at a cafe or a tiny dramatic scene playing out between the other passengers.
Hours slipped away without either of them noticing. They ate at a small restaurant tucked in a wall, browsed through the pockets of green exhibits trying to sell whatever novelty they could, and even stopped to admire a few artists sketching the landscape outside.
Through it all, Sierra ignored the little bell in her vision that buzzed red. She wasn't ready to deal with whatever it wanted from her so she ignored it.
By the time they wandered back to their room, the afternoon light had settled into their room. Ikade trudged in first, her tail dragging on the floor from exhaustion.
She grabbed her laptop, set it aside and helped Ikade into the bedroom.
The moment Ikade landed on the bed, she curled up and fell asleep without a sound. Sierra draped the blanket over the tired Ikade, removing both their shoes before crawling up to the bedframe and using it for support.
Her laptop slid across the mattress the moment she looked at it and she pulled it into her lap, flipping it open and pressing the power button.
Sierra typed in her password, moved the cursor to her messages, and clicked on another icon.
"You'd think they'd have something better than email by now."
She muttered under her breath, casting a glance toward the light switch near the door. It flicked off, dropping the room into darkness. Only the glow of her laptop lit her face when she opened the first message in her inbox.
It was from the doctor—the same one who cared more about her money than her wellbeing.
She double tapped the email that had been forwarded to her again. The message was short, and painfully simple. A reminder not to ignore his messages, followed by a warning that if she kept delaying, she might find herself dying before it was too late.
Sierra scrolled down just enough for the attached file to appear. She tapped it twice—only taking a moment to download.
The file swallowed her entire screen—all three hundred and six pages of her history laid bare, the background becoming a blurry mess of colors.
Medical Report — "Sierra", June 14th, 1608
Her fingers forced the pages downward, skimming past the parts she'd already memorized and the ones too useless to read again.
But not everything was unimpor—
'You ha ve a m a ss in y our br a i n.'
When the words hit her conscious, her scrolling stopped right where she needed to be.
She slowed down to a crawl and read the lines of text, then again and again. Each detail cut through the fog in her head while she absorbed the information—the crystalline had begun to press into the pons varolii, forming between it and the medulla oblongata.
Several smaller clusters had also begun to populate deeper inside.
More specifically—right at the border of the pyramids and both nucleus, spreading along the accessory olivary nucleus and the inferior olivary nucleus. All of it concentrated in the medulla.
All of it getting worse.
If Sierra had looked at this nine months ago, maybe she would've had a chance. A better one, at least.
Who knew how much worse it had gotten since then?
Everything else she attempted to read blurred together—too complicated, too dense, too fucking hard for her exhausted mind to read. Only the graphs and images gave her any real sense of how deeply fucked she was.
Sierra breathed out deeply, slamming the laptop harshly and looking forward—
At you.