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