Wherever Gahn is, Vertan couldn’t be bothered with it right now. Maybe he has his matters to deal with, looking after the lodging and health of his crew. Or perhaps he’s negotiating the repair of his ship. Nonetheless, what’s important right now at least is that they’re hiding right under the Coalition’s nose without them knowing. At least for now.

  But still. The anger from earlier continued to gnaw at Vertan, and he found his head clouded as he walked all the way back.

  It was still very typical of Gahn, so Vertan tried to understand. In fact, he found that he did understand, yet he still found himself to staunchly stand on the other side. How could such an educated and competent man dig his head into the sand in front of something that was so obvious?

  On the walk back, Vertan thought back to his days in the Expeditions with Hilgo. Only in hindsight did he realize how much his late friend would often point to the oddities and unnaturalness that stood out. Hilgo had recognized those patterns long before Vertan could even conceive of such concepts, but he was too stubborn and arrogant to meaningfully address and interrogate those questions back then. He was too enamored by the idea of joining a noble cause and to make something of himself without ever realizing that the prestige he signed up for only set him up to be another rat in their maze. He had traded the hamster wheel for a hamster ball.

  Maybe it was seeing his old self in Gahn that made him so infuriated. If anything, he found that he only forced himself to live, still blaming himself for being responsible for Hilgo’s death. The man’s soul is condemned to be forever buried on that planet out there millions of miles from home as a result of his arrogant blindness.

  He knows how Gahn is. He knows that as a man educated and having benefitted from these institutions, he’s going to have different priorities and is more likely inclined to defend it. And yet, the personal ties to Hilgo’s fate continue to sober him, and so Gahn’s arguments instead read across as willful neglect as opposed to ideological difference.

  What was he going to do? Tell the man who built a bright and stable career with a successful and educated family that the system that allowed that in the first place are also genocidal warmongering maniacs? That the people who helped ‘develop’ their homeworld have ulterior motives? How is he going to want to hear that, let alone believe that? He’s basically their poster-child for the perfect example of what succeeding looks like.

  Finishing his cigarette, he throws it to the ground. The roads are already dirty and polluted to begin with, anyway.

  Walking back up to the carrier ship, Vertan steps over the barriers and yellow tape set up surrounding it. There were still some troops moving in and out, but most have gone elsewhere for the day.

  Walking up and inside the massive vessel, Vertan returned to that one small cargo hold that he had spent the trip in, and, to his surprise, he found Lym, still lying fast asleep.

  For a moment, his face softened from his previous anger.

  His frustrations, still carrying its momentum, nonetheless bubbled quite a bit still. He is reminded of the predicament of her people and the conflict. But slowly, he found his anger simmering down until he found himself only with something quieter.

  Standing next to her, he finally decides to sit down, gentle rays of golden sunlight peeking through from the large, metallic doors. Strangely, a subtly warm feeling grew within him, though he didn’t acknowledge this to himself.

  He had never seen her sleep so fully, and so he wondered what it must feel like for her. She continued to lie still on her back, her position almost as tight and disciplined as she usually always was. But somehow, he could tell that it was more relaxed. There was a gentleness that he’s never seen before, the way she rested under the standard issue blanket. Her eye was closed and her mechanical eye turned off completely, neither having to run through endless different calculations for any given instant. Her chest rose and fell in what felt more like natural breathing, compared to the first time he met her, where even this simple fact was nearly imperceptible.

  For a moment, Vertan found his hand reaching out slightly, and found himself wanting to stroke her hair gently, before pulling back and keeping to himself. They had gone through so much, and in that moment, it seemed to be the most peace they had. In that moment, a small part of him quietly wished that it could last indefinitely, even loop in perpetuity.

  It was not that they were in here together, but rather, that the rest of the world was outside of it.

  Suddenly, Lym shifts in her sleep, and her head turns slightly. In the next instant, her right hand reflexively lashes out, denting the thick metal wall next to her.

  She sits up with a start, her eyes opening and immediately shifting through different modes. She looks around confusedly, almost frantic, for her nature, of the change in lighting, and Vertan’s presumed absence.

  “Lym!” Vertan whispered. “Lym, it’s alright, I’m here.”

  Immediately turning towards his voice, Lym’s expression softened in relief.

  “Oh! Vertan—”

  She still remained somewhat startled, and her breathing was slightly heightened.

  “Oh, did I do that?” she asks, eyeing the dent in the wall.

  “Yeah,” replied Vertan.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

  Somehow, out of instinct, Vertan comes in to embrace her in a hug.

  Stupid! he thought to himself momentarily. What if her next reflexes accidentally kill me?

  But no reflexes came. Instead, slowly, but surely, she too returned the gesture, and the two found themselves in each other’s arms with a great sigh of relief.

  “It’s alright,” Vertan found himself saying. “It’s alright.”

  A moment of quietness between the two.

  “Are you alright?” she asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “I’m alright,” Vertan chuckled. “Are you alright?”

  “I, I had some very intense dreams. But I also haven’t slept so well in so long.”

  “Sounds like a lot of things are long overdue for you.”

  “Where are we? What time is it?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “We’re still in Alpharion. Somewhere, I don’t know. It’s only just afternoon outside here.”

  “I see, I see—”

  Bringing herself to stand up, Lym almost falls, and Vertan rushes to catch her. Catching her breath and balance, she is taken aback by the ordeal.

  “Lym, are you alright?”

  “I didn’t expect that. I feel kind of weak.”

  “Must be from yesterday. Take it easy; I think your body needs more rest.”

  “I know, I know, but I need to check something.”

  Struggling her way up again, she begins taking limping steps to test her abilities. She doesn’t make it far before Vertan has to catch her again, though she accepts the aid this time.

  “You sure you need to check right away? I feel like we ought to get you some food and water first.”

  “Just for peace of mind, Vertan.”

  “Alright, fine, fair enough.”

  “By the way, you smell like cigarettes. Did you smoke?”

  “Oh—you noticed? I’m sorry, I’ll—”

  “Mind if I try one?”

  *****

  Indeed, Lym’s dreams were intense ones.

  In one such dream, she found herself back in orbit above the fortress-planet that is Gateworld Thoma, piloting her gunship and carrying out her operations from there. Every now and then, she would get more hands-on with her work, exiting her gunship and letting it run free and amok alongside her. Countless lives were taken by her hand, tools, and expertise as she and her brother Aru carried out their mission in systematic order.

  There was a painful sorrow in accepting what was to come. There was no coming back from that mission. With every sweeping pass, and every coordinated implosion of the enemy’s systems, it was impossible to ignore her brother’s undeniably declining vitals signs. He was far more brutal and suited for surface operations, compared to her surgical precision work in orbit, but so did he lack in both numbers and experience. There was nothing she could do but watch her brother slowly die from orbit.

  And suddenly, she was sucked with great violence into the final gateway, flung across the cosmos at a velocity unlike anything she experienced. Those sensations gnawed at her body again, even with the protection of her suit. She watched as legions of her people continued to march on, flying past her, all condemned to eternity on the battlefield, just so they could maintain the privilege of existence. She could almost feel every molecule, every atom, every particle of her essence being smeared across the stars, before a very sudden and disorienting impact.

  But unlike how it had played out, she didn’t find herself in the forests of Ulminh. She found herself having crashed on World Ritus. She found herself bound and restrained, held back by those same burning, barbed chains and scorching frequencies that evaporated every teardrop that managed to escape her. She found herself paralyzed as tubes and pipes continually stole her blood, extracting it for research, replication, commodification, and usage.

  She watched as her body continued to be endlessly and systematically violated, over, and over, and over again, and all she could do from her position of utter helplessness and absolute terror was to watch everyone around her die. General Hiau stood above her, grabbing her head and twisting it so that she was forced to watch the slaughter.

  She was struggling to break out. She has to break out. She has to save even just one person.

  She watched as Vertan is struck down, killed, and—

  *****

  So it was there.

  Vertan and Lym found themselves in a great state of relief. They hadn’t thought to check it yesterday amidst the chaos, but indeed, upon digging through the gunship’s systems, there was found, the directions leading back to her homeworld.

  To Happia.

  With this verification out of the way, the two continued to make their way out of their ship. Soon, a new mask was found to protect her identity, and they cut this in half. New clothes were purchased at the same gift store by the lake, given that her robes have since been lost, and the ones Aolia had lent her were coming apart following the ordeal they went through. Lym now found herself to have acquired a new set, and for the day, is dressed in a simple shirt and long rugged pants. An additional hat helped to further conceal her identity.

  Throughout the whole way, Vertan shouldered Lym’s weight. The lean woman was surprisingly heavy, likely due to all manners of different biomechanical parts within her.

  But at no point did he complain during the ordeal.

  Lym’s overall lack of concern over it suggested to him that she must have gone through such an ordeal before, despite his worries. But he had never seen her in such a state. He can tell that even with her heightened rate of recovery, it would be a while before she’s back up to speed with her usual self. She must have expended so much energy and endured so much suffering in that battle to end up as such. Vertan took mental note to keep her on the low so that she is allowed ample rest.

  Meanwhile, Lym was indeed concerned about her state of being. She had suffered similarly before, but not quite so much as this time. This time felt a little different. This time, she felt unable to shake herself of a pervading distress, and it took an exceptional amount of willpower to maintain mental clarity and keep herself together. She had never felt so helpless and vulnerable, even to her own immense, unrestrained power towards the end. However, as Happians typically are, none, if barely any, of this showed up on the surface.

  Rather, she was more concerned with Vertan. She was almost certain the two would lose each other until she had woken up with a start, finally relieved that he was indeed alive and well. She quietly vowed to herself never to allow such a failure to come anywhere within the realms of happening ever again.

  Finally, the two found themselves sitting on a bench by the lake. Skyships moved in and out of the sky, much smaller in size and in much more calming traffic than what is typical of more highly populated Coalition worlds.

  “So, what do you think?” Vertan asks.

  “I think the taste is interesting,” Lym replies. She blows out a puff of smoke as she gazes out to the lake, her eyes continuing to switch between different modes.

  “You know, it’s kind of strange seeing you like that,” quips Vertan. “Smoking in casual clothes.”

  “It’s my first time smoking,” she replied, observing the cigarette. “You do this a lot?”

  “Usually only when I find myself stressed. Less likely if I don’t have one of those cleaner-candies on me to keep my teeth and breath in shape.”

  “This is your idea of relaxing?”

  “Happians don’t smoke?”

  “Maybe at one point we used to. These days, I think we smoke enough all the same from inhaling the fumes of war and our dead.”

  “I guess that’s fair enough.”

  With another inhale, Lym finishes the entire cigarette in a single drag. Vertan stares in amazement as she lets all of the smoke out in one puff.

  “It’s alright, I guess,” she comments. “I don’t feel much out of it.”

  “You just smoked the entire thing.”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I, I mean. Wow, I guess your lungs are strong, too.”

  “Oh, oh. Wait, let me try.”

  Lym motions for Vertan to pass her another cigarette, but he finds himself at first confused before he figures out that she was referring to the entire rest of the pack. Putting all seven of them in her mouth, she picks up a branch that was sitting next to them on the bench, and with a single snap of her fingers, lights the branch on fire with pure friction.

  Bringing her makeshift match up to the cigarettes, she lights every one of them up, and with a single breath, drags all of them before billowing enough smoke to create a small cloud.

  Vertan stares at her for a moment in disbelief.

  “Oh,” she says after discarding the cigarette butts. “Ooh, I think I feel that now. I see.”

  “Oh my God,” chuckles Vertan.

  “What?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  The two stare at each other for a moment in suspended silence. A slight smile begins to creep up onto both of their faces, before the two finally find themselves laughing together.

  Just for that moment, things felt like they could be alright for the two fugitives.