Cosmosis

Interlude-Vengeful

(English)

It was the little things that somehow managed to bother her.

Madeline's throat wasn't sore. It should have been.

Her palms should have been bloody and raw from squeezing her own fingernails into her fists. But they weren't.

Her eyes should have been puffy and bloodshot.

And yet…

She looked in the mirror and a perfectly pretty face stared back at her, with just enough makeup to make her look nice without burying her face under layer and layer of cosmetic-whatever-slime.

Except it wasn't 'whatever'.

She knew exactly what it was. Exotic particles, custom designed—literally under a microscope—to cling to human skin without choking pores. One of the many pet projects Madeline had gotten up to with the Adepts of the Flotilla.

When had her habits become so ingrained? She'd materialized it on her face like she did every morning, strictly out of habit.

You bitch. Habit?

Her brother was dead, and she was waking up the same as she did every morning. A familiar swell of self-loathing exploded out from her, and her fist rose before Madeline could even realize what she was doing.

But before she could punch-out the mirror, an invisible force caught at her elbow.

Madeline startled, twisting to look behind her only to find no face staring back at her. An empty set of pajamas stood upright, and it took Madeline's brain too many seconds to recognize them as being worn by an invisible girl.

Drew wrapped Madeline up in a tight hug. Madeline returned it.

She pulled away too quickly though.

It hurt to be around Drew.

Even back in the early days, Madeline had been closer with Aarti. But she and Drew had still bonded over their sibling angst.

Madeline thought she'd left behind her five brothers and sisters, while Drew had been outright staring at Jordan when she was abducted.

It sucked to bond over, and the two's relationship with their siblings couldn't have been more different. But it was still something in common. The older abductees had all realized quickly how important it would be to set examples for the younger kids. It was a lot of pressure too.

So, it had been nice having concerns and worries to confide in one another.

But then Jordan had turned up at their door. Madeline couldn't help but feel at least a little slighted. Which was such bullshit. It wasn't Drew's fault. It wasn't anyone's 'fault'—it wasn't a bad thing!

Jordan was okay, and she got to be reunited with her sister.

Some fraction of Madeline's personality was irked seeing family so happy. She despised that piece of herself. She was too mature to not recognize why that was a terrible impulse to experience. She didn't know what to do about that part of herself.

Drew, however, was not having any of it.

She pulled Madeline back into the hug without a word, squeezing until more tears came out.

Madeline spent the next few hours going through the motions aboard the Siegfried. There was plenty to be done, always. Her normal duties revolved around engineering and robotics. She checked hydraulic servos and seals on the hatches and bulkheads. Tested the actuators' precision and responsiveness on the gun arrays and torpedo tubes. Ben was normally the one to oversee most of the electrical work, but Madeline had enough of a head for the work that she beat him to it. She almost scrawled his initials instead of her own on the maintenance log, but she forced herself not to.

A nice gesture it might have been, but she was making an effort to do everything by the book. As perfectly as she could. Because…what else could she do?

Drew followed her for most of the morning, periodically reminding her that no one expected her to be on duty right now. Not after this.

Aarti came later and took over after lunch. Aarti knew her a little better. She didn't try reminding her she didn't need to be on duty. Aarti knew that work was the only thing she could do to feel remotely… stable.

That wasn't just a matter of comfort.

Madeline chastised herself not for the first time that day. For many failings. For her own attitude. For everything. But today it was also for almost punching her mirror.

On a spaceship, everyone had to keep their composure better than that. Especially people like Madeline: Adepts. Who could materialize a mechanized gauntlet capable of destroying god-knows-what in the blink of an eye.

Her emotional turmoil could put the people around her in danger in heartbeat if she let it get the better of her again. Even for a second.

Aarti talked to her more. About their Adept-makeup. About the latest news in alien politics. About the current state of the ship's larder. About…About...About…

But as she and Madeline finished the last bit of maintenance they could feasibly tend to, Madeline realized she hadn't heard a single word her friend said in the last hour.

More chastisement flared up in her brain.

Aarti wasn't here out of convenience; this wasn't summer camp. She had other responsibilities too, and she was making sure not to leave Maddie alone.

And Madeline couldn't even muster up the decency to pay attention to her friend.

Aarti didn't blink though. As if she could see the self-loathing behind Madeline's eyes, she leapt to distract her.

Maintenance all done?

Cleaning.

Spaceships always needed cleaning. And Adeptry was literally the best cleaning imaginable.

Every Adept picked up a slightly different way of doing it, but on spaceships most methods resembled the slimy gel for cleaning keyboards.

Madeline and Aarti tore through every deck and corridor on the ship, pressing handfuls of puddy into corners and crevices, pulling every trace of dust and gunk they could. Rinse. Repeat.

Madeline tried putting more effort into listening to Aarti's attempts to buoy her mood. Still, she missed more than she got. Too absorbed in her own gloom and barely-controlled rage.

Dimmed corridor lights marked the beginning of artificial evening aboard the ship, and eventually Madeline's physical needs won out over the urge to curl up inside her own emotions.

The Siegfried's mess served hot sandwiches for dinner. Something like crispy tofu and cheese. It was too hearty and savory for her mood. She knew the meal had been scheduled weeks in advance, just like all the meals. But this one in particular was too savory for today. Too much like comfort food. Too much reminder about just how awful she felt right now.

"Boy, what you wouldn't give for a salad right now…"

Caleb sat down across from holding a foil-wrapped sandwich of his own.

Maddie looked around. When had Aarti moved on?

Didn't even notice my own friend gone—

Caleb flicked her.

"None of that."

"Shut up," she mumbled.

"You're the only person I know with a personal-guilt-complex bigger than mine," he said. "I can see it when you're thinking stuff like that. Don't."

"I know," she said bitterly. That was the worst part. She knew it was bad to tear into herself like that. She couldn't help it.

Because I'm just that pathe—

Caleb flicked her again.

"Stop it!" she hissed.

It was a flash of genuine anger she immediately felt bad about.

"Hey, I'm a good boyfriend," he said. "I know it's better for you to be rightly angry at me than wrongly angry at you."

"It's not—"

She bit her tongue.

Caleb was staring at her accusingly. Daring her to say it.

'It wasn't wrongly' she wanted to say.

But Caleb just stared at her in that earnest, unapologetic way. Like there was absolutely nothing wrong in the world with what he wanted her to think. Like it never even occurred to him she might be right to be angry with herself.

Only Maddie knew better.

Caleb…had definitely considered the possibility. And he still looked at her with those eyes, unflinching and heartfelt.

He was right.

"It's not good for me to get angry with people trying to help me," she said. Jeez, her voice was hoarse. Had she said anything all day?

"I said it's better, not that it's good, per se," Caleb conceded. "But I take your point. Inane question: how are you holding up?"

God, she didn't want to hear that asked again. A million times now. Her brother was dead. The answer was self-evident, and it was an inane question.

Caleb knew she didn't want to hear that kind of platitude right now. He asked anyway.

Because…from him it didn't feel so much like a platitude. And it was important for her to talk, even if she didn't want to.

"Great. Terribly," Madeline said. "I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm pissed at myself. I'm pissed at him…and at the same time, I feel…normal. And it's fucking terrifying me. I woke up this morning and went about the exact same morning routine I did last week. I'm a mess. I'm completely fine. I'm both. So, I don't even know if I'm handling it or not."

Caleb nodded.

"We think similarly. I've definitely reassured myself more than a few times about killing people. The day it doesn't bother you is when you need to be alarmed."

"I don't like feeling like I'm not caring enough," Madeline confided.

"That bothered you back on Earth too," Caleb recalled.

"Yeah."

It was true. Madeline had a long history of running away from her family's drama. It left her with a lingering guilt about leaving her younger siblings in her parents' warpath.

The Squire parents were toxic enough that being abducted by aliens was liberating by comparison, and that did nothing to help any lingering guilt.

She was trapped in a negative feedback cycle.

Even when she managed to find herself in a healthier mental state, just feeling better enflamed guilt and shame soon enough. It left her prone to spiraling.

The only way out was to change her thinking on a level she didn't feel in control of.

"I can't say exactly how much effect it had…" Caleb warned, "but that thing Michelle and I did might have messed with the normal timeline of grief."

Madeline flashed back to a thousand conversations with her brother, all overlaid on one another. Every one of them was different. Complaining about their parents' abuses, chatting Adeptry, commiserating their shared foibles…

"You probably got to talk with him for a couple hundred hours cumulatively," Caleb guessed. "Grief…it at least softens with time. You could say…you got a head start."

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"That might not be a good thing," Madeline pointed out. "Grief doesn't seem like it should have shortcuts."

Caleb leaned back and stared at the ceiling contemplatively.

"Hmm. I guess not."

"Why did you leave yourself out of that?" Madeline asked.

"I didn't want to butt-in," he said simply.

"I think I would have liked you there. Dustin too."

"Then I made a mistake," Caleb said.

Madeline winced.

"I should have been—"

Caleb flicked her forehead.

"You could have been," he corrected. "There's a big difference between those, and it was a horrific situation; you did the best anyone could."

Madeline leaned forward, pressing her forehead harder against his finger.

"I'm a mess, and I need a lot of help and reminders just to keep my head screwed on straight…" she said quietly, "…but…"

"But you've got the help," Caleb smiled.

"And the reminders," Madeline agreed. <Drew, Aarti, you guys free to talk more this evening?>

<You bet!> Aarti said.

Drew started to reply, <I'll be there—>

But an emergency signal cut in.

<Flotilla tactical,> Tasser's voice flared to life, <hostile sighted onboard the space station.>

Madeline watched Caleb's personality freeze mid-expression, get filed away for later, and be replaced by pure focus.

<Tactical, details,> Caleb called out, standing immediately.

Madeline wasn't even a full step behind him.

Tasser had broadcast on the dedicated Flotilla tactical channel, hard keyed to the Flotilla's most battle-ready personnel.

<Caleb, Shinshay and I are onboard the station picking up hard-drives of footage, specifically, the shots that caught HUNGRY. They didn't leave the station when we thought. Station camera footage caught it less than an hour ago up on the highest levels.>

<I'm on my way,> Nai called.

<Belay that,> Caleb said.

<He's right,> Tasser said. <On footage, HUNGRY was moving toward escape pods.>

So instead of charging across the gangway into the station, Caleb, Madeline, and other combat-critical personnel darted toward the Jack.

Madeline's boyfriend didn't hesitate to bark orders.

<Jack crew, red alert,> he called. <Drop all activity and prepare for emergency launch. Our little sortie is launching sooner than expected.>

Madeline took her cue while Caleb handed out orders, tapping into the Jack's psionic-compatible computer and booting up the engines.

She paused though. Caleb was dating her. It was a dangerous conflict of interest for them to go into battle in the same chain of command.

<Hon—> she started.

<Screw conflict,> he said. <I trust you.>

She was almost stunned silent.

What went unsaid was… we'll need all the hands we can get.

HUNGRY had managed to slip away from Nai. That was no small feat…and…one of her thousand conversations in her brother's final moments.

The plan to down the space station was targeting something on the ground.

But there was a flaw in that theory. And she couldn't put her finger on what exactly. The specifics of the conversation were just barely past her grasp.

Madeline wasn't on the Jack's normal crew, but with the impromptu launch they were going to be missing a few of the normal lineup, so she dropped into one of the empty bridge seats.

Caleb put himself in the helm chair, psionics and hands flying across the controls.

<Nai, we're launching early,> Caleb said, switching to Starspeak: this was a tactical situation. <You and Tasser grab everyone who was further away and take one of the A-ships.>

<Take the Artemis,> Nora interjected. Still in English.

Madeline glanced at the girl. She hadn't noticed Caleb's archrival board the Jack.

<She's armed,> Nora added, catching up with the change in language.

Caleb eyed her, and Madeline's girlish and jealous side perked up ever-so-slightly. But Caleb looked at Nora with an almost unreadable expression. Madeline knew him well enough to recognize when he was forcing himself not to emote. Was that annoyance or approval?

She couldn't say for sure.

<…You get that?> Caleb asked.

<We'll just be a few minutes behind you,> Nai confirmed. <Station scopes are tracking an escape pod launch to the surface.>

<Relay,> Caleb prompted.

<Send it to the bridge displays,> Ben requested.

<You got it.>

The Jack shuddered as the crew rushed through the rapid decoupling, and Caleb opened the ship's maneuvering thrusters to full throttle as soon as they were clear of the Siegfried and the station.

<All hands brace for high-G,> Caleb warned.

Flipping the ship upside-down, he executed the flightpath he had in mind.

The Jack's twin engines roared, and everyone suddenly weighed more in their seats.

They accelerated toward the moon for only a minute.

The moon was small, but even meager gravity added up over time. The Jack decelerated as it hurtled toward Rava below. No one aboard spoke.

<The pod landed out in the dust,> Aarti reported.

Psionic-built holograms beamed real-time 3D maps of the projected landing site as they drew closer. One speck amidst the wide fields of greys and greens quickly widened to show a metal orb having tumbled down the side and into the bottom of a wide crater.

<…Those are tracks,> Jordan reported, eyeing the display. <Look.>

It was a vague pattern, just fuzzy pixels at this distance, but when she highlighted the shapes for contrast, they were consistent.

Alternating parallel lines in the dust, bee-lining it for the nearest structure.

<Mads, get on the phone with law enforcement on the ground, warn them to be on lookout at transit points,> Caleb said. <Johnny, get us a landing pad.>

A few lights were visible making their way toward the crater. Multiple vehicles. Standard emergency response to an escape-pod landing out in the dust.

<They're not going to give us clearance for an actual pad,> Johnny frowned. <…But I can make one.>

<Do it,> Caleb ordered.

<There,> Aarti marked a flat spot between the escape pod and the sunken cluster-complex of buildings roughly a kilometer away.

<Johnny, Mads, get suited up now. Everyone else afterward. Fenno, you're staying with the ship. Stay ready to lift-off again. Jordan, you head toward the pod and interface us with the emergency response. If HUNGRY is on this moon, we need to turn this into a manhunt now.>

Acknowledgements sounded off, and Madeline and Johnny unstrapped themselves, carefully made their way down to the airlocks. They pulled on vacuum-rated suits and prepped suits for the rest of the crew.

<Touchdown, T-minus twenty seconds,> Caleb warned.

Madeline and Johnny both secured themselves in pulldown seats near the airlock, while the engines flared one last time to arrest their fall.

Johnny had his eyes closed, focusing on creating a perfectly flat plate for the ship to land on.

Caleb, the rest of the former Puppies, Jordan, and Nora all followed to the airlock. Suits were donned in deadly silence. Nobody had expected this to turn into another fight so soon.

Jordan split first, bounding through the dust toward the emergency responders. They would be very confused by the empty escape pod. Everyone else didn't even bother aiming for the nearest buildings.

The sunken cluster-complex was small. Maybe a tiny outlying town or corporate-housing operation. Whatever the case, the only item of any real interest could only be the tram line running toward the much larger city-complexes in the distance.

Madeline's mind was still turning its gears. Adrenaline was oozing through her veins now, and it was taking her mind off her woes.

Her brother's conversations still lingered in her mind, just out of reach while hinges and padlocks broke. No locked door could keep them from getting into the tram station to chase HUNGRY, and their little battalion slipped past the sunken-colony's air barriers.

Johnny led the pack with Madeline right behind him. Both of them could materialize high-mass protection and benefitted from augmentations. Out of anyone present, the two of them were the first through every door because they were the most likely to shrug off a bullet from someone lurking in a dark corner.

Madeline occasionally liked to joke that made Johnny and her the dumb-brute-barbarian front-liners of the Flotilla's fighting force. And there might have been some truth to that.

Except her intelligence had always been the one area of Madeline's psyche free from angst and self-doubt: she was smart enough to know exactly how smart both she and Johnny were.

So when the both of them froze after rounding a corner to the station's platform, everyone following their lead froze without following them.

Madeline and Johnny both had the same rapid-instinct: share senses.

They fed low-grade video from their own eyes to everyone else present, and everyone saw the same thing.

One tram departing the station with a grey-white metal figure hunched over, barely visible as the tram pulled away.

The timing was too much coincidence. Whatever route HUNGRY had taken inside might have been slower than theirs, but they should have been minutes behind the robot.

And yet they'd managed to catch up and catch an oh-so-tantalizing glance.

Trap.

The word went unspoken between all of them.

But that didn't mean they weren't okay with springing the trap…

They found a deceased Vorak manning a booth on the far end of the platform. That had certainly been HUNGRY, but the machine had delayed until it could guarantee being seen.

<Madeline,> Caleb said. <Get back outside, get your wings, and go ahead of us on the tram line. Try to scout things out.>

She nodded, sprinting back the way they came. As soon as she was out under the starry sky again, she breathed life and energy through her Spellbook and materialized a complex machine wrapped around her torso and shoulders.

Mechanical wings with round rotors inlaid, sprouted to life, kicking up a blast of dust.

The rotor-version of her flight pack relied on air, so the second she cleared the air barrier, she had to abandon the rotors in favor of a clunkier thrust system built into the wings. It was a lot easier to take off with one and switch once she was at altitude.

Gravity on Rava was light though, and it didn't take much mass for her to stay aloft. Nor was there much friction to stop her from accelerating more and more toward the city.

But as she looked out across the lunar vista, she saw a fast-moving blinking light high in the sky.

Yigown station.

It was so tiny up there, streaking across the horizon. Even a small moon like this one, it was still just a tiny, tiny fraction of the mass and size. Like a speck of sand compare to a basketball. Except the difference was even more dramatic.

Madeline's eyes widened as she remembered what one of her conversations with Dustin had been.

<The target!> she realized. <They're on the ground.>

<We already knew that,> Caleb reminded her, but concern crept into his voice. He knew Madeline wouldn't reiterate the fact for no reason.

<Where was the station going to come down?> Madeline asked.

<It's impossible to say for sure,> Caleb said. <We interfered. They didn't keep the original timeline.>

<But suppose they had,> Madeline pressed. <How would they have known where something that big would come down? Precisely?>

<They couldn't,> Aarti followed.

Caleb swore.

<Serral even said it. That's a massive amount of collateral damage. You couldn't guarantee a target whatsoever.>

<But a space station falling anywhere would paralyze most of the moon,> Johnny realized. <It'd be the perfect opportunity to kill any one person you wanted. You could bring down a building, and it would probably be written off as debris from the space station falling.>

<Emergency services, communications, even utilities,> Ben said, <gas leaks, power outage—>

Madeline saw a bright flash on the horizon, and an orange glow began quickly rising from the far side of the city-complex. Within a minute, the scattering of building lights visible on the horizon winked out in waves, plunging half the moon into darkness.

Madeline frowned.

HUNGRY wasn't that far ahead of them…

<All points, red alert,> Caleb warned, beaming the message up toward the rest of the Flotilla. <Another shoe just dropped for this thing.>

As Caleb and the others rode the tram and coordinated their best response, Madeline poured on the throttle on her flight pack. Her emotional turmoil melting, giving way to the anger that made her want to smash her mirror. There was a fight here.

And she wanted to hit something.