“Jana, do you have a second?” Fletcher asked as he entered the First Lieutenant’s office. It was a mess, but he didn’t think offering to clean it was in his best interest.

  “Sure, pretty boy. But keep it fast. I need my beauty rest.” Jana winked at him.

  “What’s George’s story?” He sat down in the chair opposite of her.

  “George? That [Insectoid] freak? Where did you find him? I thought he crawled in a vent and died or something.”

  “George is a good guy. He’s been helping me with some of my projects,” Fletcher explained.

  “You got George to clean? That’s brilliant. I bet he makes a great maid. Why didn’t I think of that?” Jana slapped her forehead. “Finally, a use for that stupid bug.”

  “He’s actually helping on a different project. He’s too scared to come up past the bottom floor. You and the others did a great job of bullying him into staying far away from you all.” Fletcher crossed his arms.

  It’d been a week since he started his cleaning siege, slowly working through every hallway and room that he had access to in the base. He spent about half his day doing that and then the other half was spent on the bottom floor—the fourth subfloor—with George, cleaning out one of the largest storage rooms down there to make room for his garden. He’d decided he’d teach the [Insectoid] the basics of caring for plants so he had an assistant in maintaining the hydroponics center.

  “Thank you. It actually wasn’t that hard. Just a few harsh words and some shoves, and viola, the bug-freak learned his place,” Jana proudly proclaimed.

  “What did he do to get sent here? George doesn’t seem like the usual type that ends up at Vesi,” Fletcher noted.

  “That’s an interesting statement coming from someone who chose to come here. Maybe you and George are kindred spirits in that regard,” the Lieutenant theorized.

  “Come on, Jana. What’s his story?” Fletcher pressed.

  Jana sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you, but only if you ask nicely.”

  “Lieutenant Jana, will you please tell me George’s story?” Fletcher huffed.

  “I guess I’ll take it.” She leaned back in her chair. “Ah, poor George. I heard he was a good kid back when he was still normal like us. He went through Hotshot training even, a true patriot.”

  “A mission went wrong?” Fletcher guessed.

  “If only.” Jana shook her head. “He did a lot of good work, but during his leave at Paraty Coastal Base, some Hexing experiment went all wrong. He rushed in to save people and all that hero stuff, but alas, he couldn’t save himself. He ended up fully converting, going from a well-trained soldier to a blubbering bug boy who didn’t even remember his own name.”

  “If he was such a hero, why would he get sent to Vesi?” Fletcher asked.

  “Well you’ve met him. Would you call that a hero?” Jana pointed out.

  “So what? They sent him to Vesi so they could forget about him? That’s a garbage way to pay him back for his sacrifice.” He frowned. The Mixed were unusually cruel, and even if he agreed with their overarching mission, there were a lot of practices he didn’t agree with.

  “Yes. His family and friends all requested it. They couldn’t stand the sight of someone they loved so much being that thing. Plus it was for his own good. Being at a base where everyone gazed at him like some hero when he couldn’t remember his own birthday drove the dude crazy. Being out here took him away from the stress and pressure of being someone he wasn’t. Someone who in reality is basically dead. It was the best solution for everyone,” Jana explained.

  Fletcher tapped his fingers against his legs. Okay, fine. That wasn’t quite as cruel as he thought. Terrible still, but at least he saw some of the reason for it, even if he still didn’t agree with it.

  “That… really sucks. I can’t imagine,” he said quietly.

  “Avoid any more Hexing, [Vampire]-boy, and you won’t have to worry about it.” Jana grinned at him. “Say, what percentage are you at anyway? It’s gotta be pretty low given the lack of fangs.”

  “Just six percent,” he answered truthfully.

  She chuckled. “That’s barely anything. You probably don’t have a single useful [Skill] with that little amount.”

  “I have [Frenzy],” he defended himself.

  “At what level?”

  “Level 2.”

  She laughed harder. “Oh, yeah. Because I’m so scared of a level 2 [Frenzy] with a whooping 6 [Mana] behind it. Yeah. Safe to say your [Skills] aren’t your strength.”

  “And what percentage are you at?” he asked.

  “I’m at 17%. Not all that great, but a whole lot more useful than you.” Jana covered her mouth as she yawned. “And that’s the signal for my next nap. It was nice chatting, buddy. See you around. Or not. I’m fine either way.”

  “Bye, Jana. Thanks for the chat.” He stood up and walked out of the way, his mind still wrapped up on George.

  What a terrifying thought, to lose oneself so entirely. Sometimes he still grimaced when he looked in the mirror and saw his red eyes, a reminder that he lost a part of his Humanity he could never get back. But to think of all of it being gone… that was so much worse. No wonder George was so timid. The guy didn’t even know himself anymore.

  As Fletcher walked back down the hallway to the stairwell so he could join George down on the lowest floor, the overhead flickered out, leaving only the yellow emergency lights on. Just bright enough that his [Dark Vision] remained inactive.

  “What the…” He glanced around, wondering if this was going to be another prank, but he saw no sign of anyone.

  A woman named Corporal Kenzo stepped out of one of the closest that had been converted into a bar. “Not again.” She started down the hallway, her black hair hanging in a loose braid. The hair was darker than black, and Fletch got the sense she wasn’t completely Human. “Everything in this bloody facility breaks, I swear.”

  Fletcher cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to fix it?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I don’t know what else I’d be doing, idiot,” she replied.

  “Can you show me how?” he asked. As much as he liked to pretend, Fletcher didn’t have the handyman knowledge to do all that much for his gardening project, and if he got a few tips from an experienced professional, it might make things a lot easier.

  “Why?”

  “I’m curious.”

  Kenzo rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can watch, but I’m not going to hold your hands and explain things to you.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get.” Fletcher smiled and followed her through the hallway to the power center of the station. He stayed close as she opened up various panels and fiddled with wires, using electrical tools he had very little experience with.

  “There,” Kenzo said with a sigh. She closed the panel she was currently prodding and flipped a switch on the far wall. The lights turned back on, a humming noise echoing around the room they stood in.

  “Thank you,” Fletcher said. “I appreciate it.”

  “Cool. Don’t bother me about this again, alright? It’s weird,” she said.

  He nodded, though he knew he was definitely going to bother her again. Thinking of all the loose wiring hanging around, he decided that if he could manage to learn some basic electrician skills, then he might be able to fix them. That would do a lot for the base.

  They both left the room, and Kenzo returned to the bar full of shouting and singing while Fletcher rushed to the stairs and went down to meet George. The [Insectoid] was hard at work, sorting and organizing in the manner they previously agreed to. He was a reliable man, and Fletcher appreciated the chance to work with him and get to know him, even if it made him a bit sad knowing his rather tragic backstory.

  “Hi, George. How are you today?” Fletcher asked.

  “Fine, sir. How are you?” the [Insectoid] replied.

  “Good. I got some electrical tips from Corporal Kenzo, so hopefully that will be enough for me to figure out the wiring for the UV lights for the plants.” He clapped his hands together. “Alright, so we’re almost through cleaning the room out. Then we’ll have room to construct the grow boxes. After that we can get the dirt from outside, and I’ll use some spare pipes to create a water system.”

  “How are you going to get enough water?” George asked. “I thought you said Major Palacios told you not to use the station’s water rations for it.”

  “That he did. We might have to use rain barrels or something to collect it,” Fletcher suggested.

  “It doesn’t rain very often, Lieutenant. You said plants need a lot of water.” The [Insectoid] continued to work while they chatted, his spindly arms and legs surprisingly strong despite their thinness.

  “Okay. Good point. I guess we’ll have to collect water from elsewhere. I’m sure there’s a river nearby or some other water source.” Fletcher tapped his chin.

  “The city has an underground water supply in the catacombs,” George informed him.

  “Does it? Well we will just use that then. Problem solved.” He remembered Major Palacios warning him against the catacombs, but he figured there had to be a way to get the water from the catacombs or it wouldn’t have done the city much good. He’d just have to find an outflowing source somewhere which should be doable. And they had plenty of empty containers for the water. The last problem would be transportation. He was in the best shape of his life, but he did not want to run miles back and forth carrying heavy jugs of water.

  But there was another way. A much better way. It would just take a little help, help he really thought he could get if he asked politely enough and offered the right incentive.

  “George, keep going. I’ve got something I’ve got to do. I’ll be back later,” Fletcher said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see you later, sir.” The [Insectoid] didn’t even wave to him as he left the room.

  Returning to the stairs, Fletcher jogged up to the uppermost floor and went straight to the barracks.

  “Hernandez,” he called out as he entered the room.

  “Oh great, Lieutenant Asshole is back,” the man muttered. “What do you want?”

  “I have a favor.” Fletcher grinned at him. “I need you to teach me how to drive.”

  ***

  “Spare gasoline is in back. And don’t pop a tire. The jack broke years ago, and we never got it fixed. If that happens, the jeep is a total loss,” Hernandez said.

  “I know. I know. I’ll be careful,” Fletcher said. He’d never had a chance to drive since private vehicles weren’t a thing in the colonies. It’d taken a whole lot of bribing with promising all of his cigarette rations for the next two months to convince Hernandez to teach him how to drive. Not that Fletcher needed the cigarettes by any means, but those little death sticks were like solid gold bars out here at Vesi.

  “Be careful with the jeep. I don’t care about you.” The man took the cigarette from his mouth. “I didn’t know they let crazies become officers nowadays, but man, I’m glad they do. See you in pieces, Dixon.”

  “Thanks, Hernandez. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Fletcher climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. He was a little nervous to be going out by himself, but no one else would go with him, not even George. And he wasn’t about to push anyone given the last time didn’t work out so well. It’d taken a week of driving lessons before Hernandez declared he was ready to take the jeep out by himself, but Fletcher didn’t feel ready.

  Truthfully, he would never feel ready. This was one of those things that he just had to take the leap of faith and do. Pressing on the gas, Fletcher gently accelerated away and to the open gate. Several other enlisted personnel were out to see him go. Apparently there was a large betting circle based on whether or not he’d come back alive.

  That was fine. He was promised a part of the cut if he did manage to make it back in one piece, so he had even more reason to not die. There was also the fact he enjoyed living. And he did need the water for the garden project. Not that he planned to get any that day, but at the very least he needed to start exploring and see if he could find an outlet of the underground river to use so he didn’t have to venture into the one place he’d been warned against going.

  If the ruined city wasn’t off limits and it had things like cycats, Fletcher didn’t want to know what the catacombs had.

  The drive down to the edge of the city wasn’t so bad. It went quickly, even though he kept a moderate pace since he was still quite new at the whole driving thing.

  Honestly, he thought it was rather enjoyable to drive, even if it was a bit brisk with the cool breeze. As he approached the city, he stopped the vehicle and removed a map and pen from the glovebox. Someone else’s notes were already on the map, but there was enough visible for his purpose. He only needed to be able to mark an area that provided easy access to water.

  Staring at the map, he contemplated where to go. There was no easy way of guessing where an outlet from the catacombs river might be based on the map before him. But maybe, just maybe, he could narrow his search a little. [Intuition] hadn’t worked well for him when he was looking for Tara back during Hotshot training, but he had nothing to lose by trying again.

  With a thought, he activated the [Skill].

  [Activating: Intuition]

  A little preparation goes a long way.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Fletcher muttered. At least it wasted nothing more than his time. Just another vague quote that someone might post on a bulletin board to try to inspire others.

  Shaking his head, Fletcher randomly chose a spot on the map that looked like it might be a plaza which would hopefully have a fountain of some kind. The trip to the location he selected was slow going since he had to follow the map and he was still so new at driving, but he did eventually get there.

  A brief scan showed the remnants of a fountain, but that didn’t mean the water would be easily accessible, if it even was accessible. Fletcher parked and exited the jeep, grabbing his rifle from the back.

  He kept it close, though he was pretty sure he was far away from Trevor’s home. Hopefully she wasn’t out hunting right now or else there might be some trouble. Then again, he was curious to see how she was doing after all those bullets he put in her and then his attempt at fixing her up. Maybe he should drive over there to check on her and make sure she hadn’t died after all.

  But first thing first. He needed to figure out if there was water access in the area.

  Fletcher walked to the pile of rubble that was once a fountain. The sky was overcast just as it always was out in Vesi, which did nothing to help with the cold. As he approached the broken stonework, something flashed out of the corner of his eye.

  Turning, Fletcher discovered that he was not alone in the plaza.

  That was bad news.

  Very bad news.

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