MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHEN • PRESENT DAY • FYI

// SOMEWHEN  

The hum of the teleportation platform is familiar, filling your ears as the bright light dissipates enough to safely open your eyes. You feel something solid beneath your feet, and the lack of scent from the asphalt and dirt in Nuhiri and Deumia marks a departure from anything resembling a planet, the space around you giving you no reason to think anything of it. You're on the Ximilia once again — finally. Another mission successfully accomplished, for whatever other hardships you and the rest of the team have endured. Hot food and hot showers await, and Newt will surely be scurrying off to prepare for the team’s usual post-mission movie night.

You’re back and you can’t wait for Viveca to greet you, and for Degar to take the orb away, back to the North Wing to join the other ones.

Except … the station’s walls appear to be peeling, and some of the equipment looks a little older and unpolished. There’s even a layer of space-dust on one of the control boards. And most importantly: no one is here to greet you. As you turn and look to your fellow crewmates in confusion, even now some of you might start to wonder at the change of routine. Ivy, who had just been handling the orb, will be empty-handed, but surely there’s nothing to worry about. The station is peaceful and still. Nothing feels amiss … yet. And then:

// 0-L1V-14

Oh, hello. You are not the team I know. Yet you are here for the orb … Good.

The sound of 0-L1V-14 — or 'Olivia' as many have come to call her — voice springs to life around you. She almost seems to sound confused for a moment, clearly recalibrating her systems for this strange occurrence, before the gentle tenor of her voice regains its composure and she recalls her mission directive. The lights in the teleportation platform seem to glow just a little brighter, as though the arrival of the crew has buoyed the AI's spirits.

// 0-L1V-14

I've located one within the station, but it seems to have fractured. The air around them appears to have some sort of temporal disturbance that I can't quite pin down. Be cautious, but bring them to me before anything happens.

Well? You heard the AI. Best to start looking.

1.0   The first thing you might think to do is return to the sleeping quarters, either to clean up and change into another set of clothes; or to take a much-deserved nap; or maybe you just need a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts. The doors to the sleeping quarters seem to stick for a moment, which isn’t worrying in and of itself, but as the doors slide open you realize that you’re looking into a dark and empty carved out space that resembles a place for storage more than anything else. The walls and doors that used to make up your individual rooms are absent, and the floors are stripped bare, with rows of perforated grates allowing the cavernous space to remain relatively well-ventilated. It’s clear that no one has visited this room in quite some time, and perhaps there had once been plans for it, now abandoned to hold a stock of random items in its place.

There are boxes stacked against the wall, and a shelving unit that holds miscellaneous supplies: cans and boxes, batteries and wires, old bound notebooks made of paper. Rolls of rough tarp are haphazardly leaning against the wall to one corner, and thermal blankets are scattered amongst scraps of loose-leaf, a sketch of a cluster of spherical shapes in different colours, and other foreign knick-knacks that seem to have no place on a space station. If you decide to explore this space you’ll have to provide your own source of light as none of the lighting above seem to work though the row of fixtures that you’re used to seem, at least, to have been installed. They’re just not currently online.

Investigating the room a little deeper might draw you to a simple metal box sitting in the middle shelf next to what looks like a half-broken lute, its strings missing. There is no lock on this box, as though it wants to be opened, and lifting the lid will reveal a bright rosy-coloured light. Reaching out towards the small sliver of light in the shape of an elongated teardrop will recall a memory of your childhood so vivid, you’ll think you were back in that time, in that exact moment, to relive it again. Whether it's a good memory or a tragic one is left up to random chance. Only someone entering the room to talk you through your memory will remind you that you aren’t actually a child any longer.

2.0   Perhaps you decide to forgo the sleeping quarters entirely, and want to revisit one of your favourite simulations in the simulation room. Familiar oceans, the futuristic bar, or the room filled with adorable puppies might be your first choice — but every preset you’re used to scrolling through seems to be different now. There are the standard, familiar pre-mission training simulations, and even the Lodgen Mountain Mines mission appears to be here, but everything else has either been deleted … or it was never here to begin with.

You might decide to go ahead with one of the already existing simulations anyway, or you might want to start rewriting the one you’d come here for in the first place. It will depend on your luck, and it will depend on the success of your mission-training, but a small shard of bright, silvery coloured light may suddenly reveal itself to you. It appears like a thin tear-shape that hangs suspended in the air. The faintest whisper beckons you close; it’s familiar. Will you reach out to touch it? Doing so will colour the simulation room around you with a memory so real it might as well be — suddenly you might recall a happy moment in your life, or perhaps your greatest victory or adventure. This can be shared with whoever enters the simulation room with you or after you, and will fade when you manage to locate the right door and leave the room.

3.0   The sunlight room that you may have walked through on countless occasions is missing the familiar bridge, the river that runs beneath it, and trees that surround it. Instead, the vegetation around you appears to be far more deliberate and practical, thick foliage like bushes planted in rows, their large leaves covering most of the ground and soil. Several small metal boxes with wires and buttons can be found planted across the space, each with a thin rotating disc that whirs and spins quietly. Each of these boxes appears to give off readings, each screen displaying a continuous green wavy line scrolling across it and text that displays the quality of the air with a percentile grade, the amount of it being produced, and that particular box’s designation zone: Mess Hall, Storage, Living Quarters, and Teleportation Platform among others. This isn’t just a room that simulates nature, but if you were to approach any of the small bushes and saplings here, it’s clear that the plants here are real and they’re currently working to provide the rest of the station with oxygen.

Further to the back of the sunlight room, a bright sliver of colourful green light seems to glitter and glint between the leaves. It feels familiar in the way that it whispers faintly, and if you concentrate you can make out the sound of your name in a voice like that of someone from your past: a friend, perhaps, or a family member. Maybe a loved one or an enemy. Or perhaps it’s a voice you can’t actually recognize. It might compel you to reach out for the light, but will you listen? Or will you turn away?

If you embrace the light and call out in answer to the voice, you will re-experience the action, the conversation, or the thought that you attribute as being the reason you are who you are today with that most important person being the key piece in your memory.

4.0   Looking for your usual snacks? Feeling peckish for that bowl of instant spicy space-ramen you saved for post-mission? You might head into the kitchen expecting the familiar foodstuffs that you’re used to only to find that the room has been rearranged, with far fewer cupboards and appliances, and more of what looks like typical space-fare: freeze-fried items and nutrition-focused meals sealed into silver foiled bags. What ‘fresh’ ingredients exist are even less, and there are a stack of dirty plates and cutlery in the sink that don’t look like anything you or your crewmates might have used. You may already suspect that this whole station isn’t the one you’re used to, or you might still be in denial. Either way, you may find through your rummaging the call to a little sliver of coppery-coloured light located behind the freezer door.

If you decide to touch the fragment of light here, you’ll feel a ghostly burning as though the glint of the light has cut your skin, almost cold enough to feel sharp — but it’s just your imagination, isn’t it? What you remember now as it comes back to life around you (and the team member or members who may have joined you) is the best meal you’ve ever eaten, whether it is something you made for yourself, something made by your loved one, or the meal that leaves your heart feeling empty and aching.

5.0   You may have become so accustomed to seeing the North Wing doors sealed that it’s your curiosity that draws you forward to the wide expanse beyond the now open wing, your feet testing the threshold as if you’re expecting an invisible wall to keep you out. Nothing happens when you step into the North Wing, though you might immediately notice the large tank that holds all of the team’s successfully captured orbs is very clearly missing. And not only that but the space appears to be well lived in, a small cluster of worn chairs and a table set to one side, and data pads and drawings on white-boards in plain view. They don’t seem to be much more than a couple of crude strategy diagrams (and a couple of silly stick figures in one corner) and as you move towards the crew quarters, some of you might instantly recognize the familiar room with its rows of beds and a scattering of personal effects assigned to each bunk. Photos are pinned to walls of a twenty-person crew, pillows and blankets are left in disarray by unfinished knitting projects, a diary written in a language you can’t quite translate, and a stuffed elephant-shaped plush doll lies at the head of one of the beds in the middle of the room. By the door is a neatly made bed. An analogue paperback novel sits on the nightstand, a bookmark set in the middle to note its progress. On top of it is a well-kept watch stopped a little after the sixth hour and a medal of service in the now recognizable insignia of the Ndiera Complex’s Federation.

By the far wall of these sleeping quarters is a bright golden starlight that seems to illuminate that side of the room as though someone had turned on a torchlight to the highest setting; it’s almost blinding. Moving closer to it, you’ll find that it’s like all the other slivers of light scattered across the station — a broken shard, like a piece of a large puzzle. Touching it may pull you — and whoever might be in the room with you — into a memory from your time with the Ximilia crew, whether it happened over a year ago, or it happened only on the last mission. It might be a happy memory, or it might be something you regret, which is poignant considering your initial raison d’etre for being here at all. It’s a vision that appears from your perspective and while you relive it, you feel outside of yourself.

6.0   The rest of the station still appears to be intact, with the infirmary, the training room, and the armoury in the same locations that you remember. Those of you who have been here for quite some time, you’ll find your way around by muscle memory alone; but even if you’re a newer member of the crew you’ll have wandered the halls enough to know what feels familiar to you … and what doesn’t.

The infirmary looks to be a little out of date, though it looks as if it’s seen its fair share of use. And it’s smaller too, the more recent addition and surgical area missing from the cozy space. The training room and the armoury share similar qualities of seeming a little older, a little more lived in, and with well-used equipment and weapons to boot. The training room is still padded with firm padded flooring and benches for sitting. Some of the racks and hooks (all empty) that had been against the wall have fallen now, and similar to the teleportation room, you’ll find that some of the paneling in this room has since peeled away, revealing some of the bare structure behind them. In the armoury, you won’t find your favourite knife or preferred staff but there are still a few choices in weaponry to arm yourself with.

Wherever you decide to explore, you might once more happen upon a bright bluish light that seems to whisper and call to you in soft, hushed tones. No specific words can be picked out through the murmurs but the feeling is all the same — it draws you forward like a moth to flame, but whether you decide to reach a hand out to touch the sliver of light that hangs suspended in the air is entirely your choice. If you do, you might succumb to a vivid memory of a significant injury you or someone important to you had suffered once, reliving that moment with too sharp clarity. Those feelings of fear or threat or maybe even satisfaction seem to come to you again as though you were there again — only this time you may not be alone as you witness this memory, and someone else has entered the room with you.

● ● ●

Present Day.

The teleportation platform hums quietly in a clean, well-maintained room. No walls or floors appear to be even the least bit dented, and now the Commander of the Ximilia stands behind the control board, staring at the screen as though doing so will bring their crew back by some wild form of magic. Degar knows magic — he’d come from a world so full of it. This, however, is something different.

Beside him, Viveca scans through the data that had sent the crew into the Ndiera Complex, as it should have brought them back the same way, with the orb in tow.

// VIVECA

“I don’t know how it happened… they should have arrived here. Everything seemed normal! But I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

// DEGAR

“They could be anywhere, right? Except we can’t even help them if we don’t know where that might be.”

// VIVECA

“I know. The strange thing is that it seems that we’ve located another orb… only, it states that it’s here. On the station. So even if the platform sent them straight to it… why aren’t they here?”

The Commander and the AI both turn their gaze towards the still empty teleportation platform before exchanging worried glances with each other. Degar finally heaves an exhale but the frown in his features deepens.

// DEGAR

“Keep working at it. I’m going to see what I can figure out in the station’s systems. Maybe we can trace back to the team somewhere. Or somewhen.”

Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.

// VIVECA

“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP

F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the first two weeks of June.

• For this mission, we have decided to run the search request mechanic a little differently. Depending on whether your character decides to touch or grasp one or any of the slivers of coloured light that can be found throughout the station, you will have the opportunity to participate in a search request. More on this is explained HERE.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• Any in-character questions to 0-L1V-14 can be asked HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

TOP

▶ NAV

Comments

[peasant]

I'll consider it.

[ it has little to do with want, alina thinks. no one wants an intruder on the fringes of their mind. no one wants to let the skeletons in their closet topple out onto the floor, left in plain sight. there are too many unsightly corpses of old memories and darker impulses contained inside of her like a haunted house. nothing she would want him to dredge up.

a stranger would be the better choice, for all of her griping. their judgment, contracted to his, is a dull blade. capable of creating a shallow wound, but nothing deeper. chishiya, on the other hand — she hardly knows what he would think. hardly knows if he might think better of her company, might walk away as mal had. if all of ravka might, if their gratitude turned to fear.

she wonders if it won't be an insult that she has to think on this decision at all. still, something tells her he would prefer her to muse over it than to feed him a lie. her eyes flicker between his, returning to solemnity when she mutters, quietly intimate, ]

The offer is mutual, you know. [ she clarifies, after a beat: ] If you need me to return the favor, I can make sure no one interrupts you.

[dispassioned]

[He hums, accepting that answer. It's fair, really. He wouldn't expect her to jump to a decision immediately, not with the amount of stress she seems to
be under.

And when she offers to return the favor, he tilts his head, thoughtful.]

I'd appreciate it.

[Having been dealing with this for a couple of days now, he's a little more open to the idea than she seems to be. At the very least having some warning that someone might be intruding would be nice.]

[peasant]

[ she nods once, twice. if she can conquer the fold, she can manage that much. it adds to her growing list of priorities until the fear of her vacant sun summoning becomes a lesser blip on the horizon. never forgotten, for how it looms and looms like an apocalyptic storm — but pushed a little farther away, for the time being, until she can simply pretend it isn't a pressing concern. ]

You can repay me with something that doesn't taste like bark once we're back.

[ because they will get back. she refuses to accept an alternative fate. carefully, her lithe fingers squeeze around his, a silent reassurance woven through the gesture. and perhaps a slip of thanks, for the inherent trust he's shown her — though she supposes there might be nothing left for her to uncover, no veil to hide behind, with all that he's willfully pulled back the curtain on. invited her to know, of his own volition. ]

[dispassioned]

[Being told is different than actually seeing things unfold in real time before her. There are still things he wouldn’t be proud for her to see. But, while he might dislike if she judged him, it’s also something he’s experienced before. Her disapproval and her scolding. He thinks he could handle it again. What it comes down to is that it’s easier for him to accept sympathy from her than from others. Which is a kind of trust, a willingness to let her have access to the more damaged parts of himself.

His lips twitch a little at her words, squeezing her fingers gently in response. He’s putting himself in her debt again, it seems. Although he was possibly already planning something like that in any case. He hasn’t forgotten her request that he cook her something.

However:]

I could do that now, if you want. I had lollipops packed in my medical bag.

[Did he take her advice about candy working on adults as well as kids? Maybe. And they might be the best tasting things on the station, even if their nutritional value is lacking.]

[peasant]

[ it's so startlingly light-hearted, and such an unexpected development, that it stuns her into a laugh. the usual clarity of that sound rings dull, faded and frazzled — but it's there, all the same, too sudden to be anything but sincere. ]

It's been a long time since I've had one of those.

[ the strangeness of it all strikes her like a blunt force swing of an object to the skull. it must've been mere days for him. for her, it's — a complicated web of time. months, to be certain. months that feel packed into just a few long hours, existing in some liminal space and time, until it all turns into a blurry vortex. days. weeks. the ximilia makes it impossible to distinguish any of it, beyond knowing that she'd been gone.

until she wasn't.

trying to make sense of her circumstances only introduces the same pounding drumbeat into her head, a persistent migraine lingering at the edges of her awareness. absently, she rubs at the base of her spine, pinching to alleviate a gathering bump of tension. ]

You might turn into the station's most popular man, if word about your stockpile gets out. [ then, with a little frail hope, ] Did you bring strawberry?

[ look. it's the small things that are most appreciated, sometimes. ]

[dispassioned]

[The corner of his mouth turns up in a slight smile, pleased to have lightened her mood, if only for a moment.

He tilts his head a little at her comment about how long it’s been, and he wonders how much time has passed for her, but he doesn’t actually question it. He’s had his own experience with how strange time can be. The passing of time in Borderland didn’t make much sense if you took any time to think about it. He figures being ricocheted between an alien world, her home and then here, to a Ximilia stuck in a time anomaly, would probably be even harder to make sense of.

So instead, he continues to focus on the lollipops.]

I brought a whole variety. I’m sure there’s some strawberry left.

[Possibly because he tucked a few away due to his own preference for that flavor.]

[peasant]

Clever.

[ not that he would have had the foresight to consider these circumstances, but — still. funny how such a small novelty can boost morale so dramatically, the way new shipments of whiskey and rations across the fold had fueled first army soldiers.

pointedly, she ignores what it must say of her that the same distraction techniques designed for children are effective on her. with an expectant glance, she skims her eyes over him, searching. ]

I'd ask if you're stowing any away in your pockets, but I'm questioning if there's even enough fabric on you to make pockets.

[dispassioned]

[He huffs a rueful sigh.]

The pants have pockets.

[He slips his hands into them to prove his point. But the fabric is sort of flimsy so he doesn't actually trust them for carrying anything.

However, he nods to the hoodie she's now wearing.]

And that does, too.

[Thicker, sturdier fabric makes for more trustworthy pockets.]

Check the breast pocket with the zipper.

[peasant]

[ shocking, with how little material there is. alina's smile wars with her mouth, trying to suppress what can only be described as a shit-eating grin at his expense; no need to risk the safety of her lollipop by razzing him, and all. ]

Ah. Sneaky.

[ she wiggles slim fingers into its depths until she can detect the bump of a lollipop's round top, paper crinkling as she yanks it out, with some mild sheen of victory on her expression. it draws attention to the fact he hadn't thought to even remove anything from his pockets, in preparation to offer it to her — perhaps a spur of the moment decision, alina thinks. like he'd been hasty to gift it to her.

for now, she refrains from commenting, eyebrows shooting up as she unwinds the candy's wrapping. ]

What else are you keeping in here?

[dispassioned]

[It's true, he hadn't thought about what he was carrying when he'd offered her the hoodie. Her comfort seemed more important than whatever was in his pockets.

He hums a little.]

A few odds and ends. Nothing very exciting.

[If she pokes around his pockets she'll find things like a pen light, a pulse oximeter, a couple of origami stars he made from used candy wrappers while he was bored.]

[peasant]

[ she pops the lollipop into her mouth, crammed up against the side of her cheek, to free up her hands for searching. it turns out — he's right. she doesn't make any thrilling discoveries by rummaging around, though she does sift through it with the same curiosity of a raccoon pawing at trash. one by one, she plucks out her find, offering out his equipment — that seems integral to have in this place, even if she can't figure out the oximeter's function — until she reaches the crisp, folded edges of his paper stars.

from him, it's an unexpected demonstration of artisticness. she holds one up, turning it around in the light, to make a point. ]

These are cute. [ then, with a huff, ] You were holding out on me during arts and crafts.

[ rare a participant as he'd been — and often by alina's cajoling, if not the pestering of a child. sometimes both, for a combined force. ]

[dispassioned]

[He takes back the oximeter and the penlight, though an eyebrow goes up when she holds up the star.]

…Ah.

[He may have forgotten those were there, actually.]

Only a little. I hadn’t done origami in a long time. There’s not a lot to do between looking for orb fragments. I guess I wanted a distraction.

[And figuring out how to fold paper stars again wasn’t a bad one. At least not for the first night or so.]

[peasant]

[ they vanish back into her (his) pocket, not unlike a genuine star blinking out. seems she's keen to steal those next, sentimental in their value as all tiny keepsakes are. ]

You know things aren't going well when Newt isn't the one arranging a distraction.

[ only a rusty space station could stop movie night from occurring. it might've been nice, in hindsight, to return to — living through someone else's life and story, for a brief change. she considers him for a moment longer, can't bring herself to joke that it's an inconvenient time for him to find new hobbies — or dust off old ones, in this case.

instead, she considers the expanse of him, then — ] Have you been sleeping?

[dispassioned]

[He's only experienced one movie night so far, so he’s not entirely aware of how much of a regular occurrence it is. Still, some movies would be nice, actually. Fictional movies where no one real has their privacy invaded.

At her question tilts his head and sighs.]

Not as much as I’d like.

[This is why his favorite hobby on Naephus was sleeping. Being stuck in survival mode is bad for napping. He's done his best to doze when he can, but relaxation doesn’t come easy at the moment.]

Our sleeping quarters aren’t our sleeping quarters here. It’s just storage space. The sleeping situation is…communal.

[An ongoing station wide slumber party made more awkward by people being forced to view each other’s memories.]

[peasant]

Oh.

[ said with all of the intonation that oh should carry, like she's touched some unfortunate goopy chewed gum on the underside of a table. oh. there couldn't be a worse idea on a station so prone to violating privacy, much as self-preservation instincts might say otherwise.

she, for one, would rather take her chances. bunking in the first army had had its own pitfalls, but it had been decent. asking her to sleep in the same shared space as kirigan and every blind fool charmed by him is decidedly indecent. ]

No, thank you. I think I'll find a nice spot on the floor where everyone else isn't.

[ her back will suffer and her blanket will be covered in dust, but at least her sanity might stay intact. ]

[dispassioned]

I don’t blame you.

[He's been inclined to do the same thing. As much as he likes people watching, he doesn’t actually want to share the same sleeping space with the entire crew, even if he has decided they aren’t all bad.]

The infirmary has beds, at least, but you’d have to tolerate the medical staff coming and going.

[It's where he’s been most successful at dozing so far, but then again it’s an atmosphere that’s somewhat familiar to him.]

[peasant]

It's better than bunking with the entire ship.

[ fortune would have it that their medical staff is composed of people she does trust. bones, marta — compassionate, level-headed, and not prone to infringing on another person. it's the most she could ask for, in these pressing circumstances.

not having to contend with interrupted sleep, and the overwhelming sensation of dark and drilling eyes, is a bonus.

a thoughtful tip of her head brings it to one side, in her regard of him. ]

Is that where you're staying?

[dispassioned]

It's where I've managed to get some sleep.

[Saying he's "staying" there doesn't seem quite right. He's offered his services there and managed a couple of naps, but this whole situation has him a little too restless to commit to staying in any one place for too long.

However:]

And it's where the rest of the lollipops are.

[peasant]

So you're resorting to bribery now?

[ as though her mind hadn't already been made up the moment she'd snared him in admitting to how little rest he's gotten. a tellingly amused twitch of her mouth slants it to one side. she doesn't need more incentive than that, truly, but it certainly doesn't fail to sweeten the deal. ]

I hope you haven't suddenly developed a habit of snoring while I've been away.

[ which is, in alina's language, as good as committing them both to sharing space in the medbay. no takebacks. ]

[dispassioned]

[He blinks a little, surprised by her easy (albeit sassy) acceptance. He wouldn't have blamed her if she was uncomfortable with the medical atmosphere of the infirmary.

It is more comfortable than a dusty floor, though.]

I meant it as more of a perk.

[The most simplistic amenity imaginable: free candy. But then again maybe perks are a form of bribery.

He huffs a little, his lips twitching in amusement at the joke about snoring.]

Not that I know of. You'll have to let me know.

[The air in the station now might be a little stale but he's pretty sure he hasn't developed sleep apnea.]

[peasant]

A pillow to the face should be informative enough.

[ he can't be any worse than having to listen to soldiers grappling with one another through labored breaths in the dark, eager to distract themselves from the looming threat of death ahead of them. or the cramped spaces they had inhabited, more than that — snoring and late-night chatter alina had been excluded from among the list.

her teeth chip off a shard of lollipop, fingertips fiddling with folding up the overhanging fabric of his sleeve where it dwarfs her hands. ]

Actually ... [ she smiles, faint. rueful. ] A rendezvous with a pillow sounds appealing right now, if I'm honest.

[dispassioned]

[He smiles faintly.]

Your turn to enjoy a nap, hm?

[Or maybe she's just keen to smack him with a pillow.

He's not too worried about that possibility, though, considering he offers her his hand.]

Want me to escort you?

[peasant]

[ she smiles, the perfect picture of innocuous. he doesn't need to know it's a purposeful ploy to coax him into resting. ]

I'm not going to get lost on the way there.

[ but she isn't discounting that it's become a latent fear of his, nor his eagerness to be in her company. that amusement is gently delivered, as a result, half-mired in reassurance. her hand stretches out, extended for him to take. ]

But I wouldn't say no to some company.

[dispassioned]

[He takes her hand and leads her out of the room.]

You never know. The layout could have changed.

[He's kidding. Though she did get lost somehow during the teleportation process so you never know.]

You want to stop for some freeze dried ice cream or mystery protein on the way?

[peasant]

[ """mystery protein""". he makes it sound so appetizing. alina expression wrenches into a distasteful wrinkle as her hand squeezes around his, easily falling into step beside him. ]

Does the freeze-dried ice cream taste like anything?

[ she's wagering on a big, fat, resounding no. ]