2 Days Later

— Skydia, Colyath 15, 8054 —

“Ugh… so much damn work…”

With a frustrated sigh, Davídrius sat back in his office chair, his attention drifting across the contents of his dreary office. A lone window occupied much of the wall behind him, allowing bright midday sunlight to scatter across the room and the myriad text-covered papers laying within. The Dean’s desk in particular was covered in both paper reports and dull holograms; while Kaoné had long ago created computers for use in Compound Tresnon, most of Treséd still used paper and other hard media for reports and record-keeping. Most of Treséd didn’t have the kind of energy security that Tresnon did, after all, and they couldn’t afford to leave key information on a computer’s hard drive that they might lose access to at a moment’s notice.

Compounding the issue of masses of paper on his desk was the fact that Davídrius was still trying to work with nearby Compounds to assess the Bleeder threat. The Hunger’s Bane attack was just over two and a half weeks ago, but even in that time, Davídrius didn’t know much more than he did just after the attack. It seemed almost as though the Bleeders that had shown up to attack Tresnon had simply disappeared into the ether after leaving. Where could they have gone, and who were they getting their technology from — these two key questions remained unanswered, despite Davídrius and the Tresnon Defense Force’s best attempts otherwise.

“And now Strén’s back, too…” Davídrius muttered with a scowl. In an irritated huff, he stood up from his desk and turned to stare out the window, hoping to distract himself by watching the campus grounds of WCU. He could see several students milling about in the courtyard, occupying themselves with their lunches — a sight that reminded Davídrius that he had yet to eat.

Knock knock.

“Come in,” Davídrius said, glancing behind himself at the closed door to his office. Shortly after his words, the door opened and Karísah stepped through, two bags in hand.

“I brought lunch,” she remarked, and then tossed one of the bags to Davídrius.

The Velocitechnic readily snatched the bag out of the air and began rummaging around inside. “Thanks,” he replied, grabbing a sandwich from within the bag and taking a huge bite. Amidst chewing, he continued, “you know you don’t have to do this every day, right?”

“Don’t talk and eat…”

“Bah.” Davídrius swallowed before passing Karísah an annoyed look. “Now you’re gonna get on my ass about manners, too?”

“Kaoné and Christeané both asked me to watch out for you,” Karísah replied with a smile as she sat in a chair in front of Davídrius’s desk.

“Ah, those meddling fucks… but don’t think I ain’t noticed that you dodged my question.”

“You ask me that question every day. My answer hasn’t changed, I like bringin’ you lunch. Besides, you didn’t even have your own, did you?”

“I coulda gotten somethin’ from the town. Things’re different right now, anyways.” Davídrius took another bite of his sandwich as he turned to look out the window again, this time at the practice fields on the far side of the campus. In the midday light, a handful of students were using the fields to practice with their abilities. “Your team got accepted to the ACT. Hell, you’re supposed to leave for Riverana, tomorrow. Why ain’t you eatin’ lunch with your team?”

“There’s not really much to talk about…” Karísah responded, finally taking out her own sandwich as she did. “We aren’t really friends, I’m just teamin’ up with ‘em…”

“That attitude is why y’all ain’t friends,” Davídrius countered, turning around to look at Karísah. “How many times’ve I told you? You wanna make friends, you actually gotta go talk to ‘em, spend time with ‘em.”

“Says the one who avoids social activity like a plague.”

“Yeah, and have you seen how few friends I have?” the Dean retorted. “…Still. You sure you’re fine with this? Seems like you spend half your free time with me. Don’t you got any other friends to hang out with?”

Karísah didn’t verbally respond, instead taking a bite out of her sandwich as she diverted her gaze from Davídrius.

He released a wary sigh. “…Right. Sorry for askin’.”

“It’s fine…” Karísah replied. “Most of the students just get intimidated by me, anyways…”

“Intimidated?” Davídrius scoffed. “By a big softie like you?”

“I’m still one of the Elite Six, to everyone else. And I was raised by you, a Tresédian Hero, too.”

“’Hero’ my dirt-damned ass, half the folks on this continent couldn’t give two shits about me. And the other half sure ain’t showin’ me any favor. Still… I guess some kids would be intimidated by you constantly eatin’ lunch with the Dean of the fuckin’ school.”

“Yeah…”

“That can’t be it, though. All of the other Elite Six, despite bein’ assholes—“

“Liéhdan isn’t an asshole.”

“I’m talkin’ about the others. My point is that they still got plenty of folks approachin’ ‘em, even though they’re unpleasant people. I know Tresédians are different, but I think you just ain’t givin’ folks enough credit. I bet some of the students would love to get to know you. Your ACT teammates especially!”

“Maybe… but the other Elite Six have more goin’ for ‘em, like their looks. Me, I’m just… I’m tall, especially for a girl, and really muscular, so…”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think bein’ tall is great! Hell, Selind’s just as tall as both of us, and she seems just fine.”

Karísah stared blankly at Davídrius before shaking her head and taking another bite of her sandwich.

“…What?” the Dean questioned in confusion. “I don’t get it. Is this some woman thing? I don’t do very well with that kinda subject…”

“You don’t say.”

“Don’t give me that. Ain’t my fault I’ve been too busy for relationships and shit. You better learn from me, Karísah — don’t take on too many responsibilities, or you’ll be single for life!”

“Responsibilities…” Karísah echoed, her attention dropping to the heaps of paper that covered Davídrius’s desk. “Speakin’ of—“

“The Bleeders ain’t your problem to deal with,” Davídrius declared.

“How— how did you know I was gonna ask about the Bleeders?”

“I done spent over a decade lookin’ after you, I can read you just fine. I bet you wanna offer to drop out of the ACT, too, to stick around here and help protect the place?”

“…I admit, the thought’s crossed my mind…”

“I knew it. I’m tellin’ you, Karísah, this ain’t your problem to deal with. You’re still a student. Don’t feel like you gotta be responsible for all this shit.”

“But you were fightin’ the Bleeders at a much younger age than I am, now…”

“Yeah, and my whole damn point is I don’t want the same for you — or for any of the students here, for that matter. I founded WCU and started up the Bleeder Reformation Program to stop people from havin’ to fight for their lives.”

“But on Hunger’s Bane—“

“Look, I know you’re concerned, and I appreciate that. And I’ll admit that the Bleeder problem is, uh… bigger than I expected. But Tresnon is on top of it. Selind and the Defense Force are lockin’ things down, and Kaoné comes back tomorrow. Hell, Kaoné on her own could take on an entire army by herself. So don’t worry about us, got it?”

Karísah eyed Davídrius doubtfully. A few seconds later, however, she diverted her gaze and sighed deeply. “Alright… if you say so.”

“Good. Now if only I could get Relia and those Earthians to agree, too…”

“Relia can take care of herself, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, until she ain’t. Solo acts rarely turn out well, in Treséd.”

“Right…”

“Then again, ain’t like couples do much better, either. Not when they wander like Relia does. Maybe she’d settle down in Tresnon if she had a reason to, though.”

“I dunno…” Karísah muttered, only to notice that Davídrius was giving her a knowing look. “…W-what?”

“Eesh…” The Dean sighed and shook his head. “That part of you is just like how I was when I was your age.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Relia isn’t… I mean, I don’t…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m tellin’ you, though. Don’t be me, don’t be single for life.”

“You aren’t even middle-aged yet, you still have plenty of time…”

“I don’t need one of my own students cheerin’ me up,” Davídrius retorted with a scowl. “And don’t think I ain’t noticed you tryin’ to change the subject. But, fine. We can talk about somethin’ else.” He then shoved the final bits of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing loudly. “…You ready for the ACT, and Riverana?”

“Well, I’m all packed, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s more than that! You’ve never been to Riverana before, so this is your chance to see the sights! Anika is a damn impressive city, and you’re gonna be spendin’ five weeks there!”

“It’s only five weeks if my team makes it to the finals.”

“And I have faith that you will. Those elite bitches from those other schools ain’t got shit on you.”

“So you say, but Cartérius and Derynii are in, this year…”

“You just gotta have a little faith in yourself,” Davídrius declared. “Maybe a little fightin’ dirty, too. I know both of those fucks have a dozen different triggers you could pull to set them off. That Sméthan idiot, too.”

“Are you really supposed to be insultin’ students from other schools? And encouragin’ me to push their buttons?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you to make ‘em go Berserk or anythin’, sheesh. But half of fightin’ a Chaotic is findin’ weaknesses not just in how they fight, but also in how they think.”

“I guess. I still don’t think that pissin’ off Cartérius or Derynii would go well, though.”

“Ah, you’re a Duratechnic, you’d be fine. Anyways, we’ve gotten away from the main point. I better not hear that you spent all your time in Anika cooped up in your room, got it? You better get out and see the sights. Especially that big ass waterfall they got! Ain’t nothin’ like that in Treséd! And just how clean the city is, too, like, damn…”

The rest of the lunch break went on without issue, as Davídrius and Karísah continued in idle conversation.

---

That Evening

“Overdrive: Wanderer.”

After uttering those two words, Relia silently disappeared from her position in the sandy wastes of Treséd, only to immediately reappear atop the walls of Compound Tresnon. Post-sunset twilight obscured her presence, allowing her to teleport again without anyone noticing her arrival in the Compound. Barely two weeks had passed since she left, but she made no attempts to announce her presence to anyone as she continued to silently teleport through the Compound a few hundred meters at a time.

Half a minute later, she appeared atop one of the buildings along the Compound’s coastline. The two-story building provided a vantage point over Mirage Lake, while still being somewhat isolated from the busy Market Street; the businesses in Relia’s immediate vicinity had just finished closing for the day, leaving the area quiet. Still, Relia carefully surveyed the area around her, crouching down and pulling her cloak around her to minimize her profile. While the purple designs embroidered upon Relia’s otherwise beige cloak were obvious from up close, they were surprisingly good at breaking up her profile at a distance, especially in the dimming light of dusk and the sandy wastes of Treséd. When combined with her short stature, tanned skin, and dark (albeit fluffy) hair, she was rather hard to spot in the dim twilight.

After determining that there truly was no one else around her, Relia wordlessly teleported once more, this time to a series of stone monuments built on a small pier over the lake. With a somber expression on her face, she quietly approached one of the monuments, upon which a massive list of names was carved. Immediately, with only the kind of speed that one who had visited the monuments before could match, Relia’s gaze honed in on one name amongst the massive list: “Austilad Condsa.”

Her attention lingered on the name for several moments, her lips pursed, and her brow furrowed. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, at which point she stepped up next to the monument and extended her hand over the water below the pier. Slowly, she opened her closed fist, allowing a small pile of sand held in her palm to sift down into the water below.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Relia remained as she was, allowing the sand in her hands to fall away — but on her face she wore a distinctly irritated expression. “…Mother,” she eventually commented, though she never once looked behind herself as Selind walked up the pier.

“How cold,” Selind remarked with a smirk, though the typical levity in her tone was gone. She stopped in front of the monument herself, running her left hand across the same name that Relia had spotted earlier, only to then adjust the strap of her gun and step up next to Relia. A second later, she held her right hand over the water, just as Relia had, and let the sand within slowly fall into the lake.

Relia briefly eyed her mother’s hands before turning around to leave.

“Really? Not gonna say anything?”

Relia stopped in her tracks, only to finally turn to face Selind straight-on. “What is there to say?” she questioned, her voice strained.

“Maybe a ‘hello’? Or a ‘how’re you doin’?” Selind replied, her arms crossed as she turned away from the waters to look at her daughter.

“I’m not here for you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Selind released a weary sigh. “…You really have done this every year, though, ain’t you? And you never told me once.”

“And why would I?” Relia countered. “I’m here to remember father, and that’s it. I can’t waste time here, or the Bleeders will keep harrassin’ folks out in the wastes.”

“…Heh. Don’t think you can get insults like that past me. I’ve done more to stop the Bleeders here than I ever would’ve out there in the wastelands.”

“To stop the Bleeders from attackin’ Tresnon, maybe. But what about the rest of Treséd? They need help, too — and father knew that.”

Selind remained silent for several moments, her lips pursed. Eventually, she responded, “don’t think like you knew your father better than I did. We both knew that stoppin’ the Bleeders meant more than just fortifyin’ Tresnon, obviously. But we also knew that stoppin’ the Bleeders is somethin’ that Treséd needs to do together. Leavin’ every Compound for themselves is how the Bleeders got to be so bad of a problem, in the first place.”

“Then why do you spend all your time in one place? Why aren’t you helpin’ the rest of Treséd?”

“If you think Tresnon ain’t helpin’, then you ain’t lookin’. And if you ain’t lookin’, then what the hell are you wanderin’ for?”

“I’m lookin’ for the Bleeders. I’m lookin’ to stop ‘em, to protect the folks who can’t protect themselves. I don’t think you know how grim it is out there, mother—”

“I know exactly how grim it is out there!” Selind snapped, fury briefly flashing across her features as she glared down at Relia. “I’ve been livin’ in these dirt-forsaken wastelands for my entire damn life, for some forty some-odd years. I know how shit things are, here. Your father died because of that, you know — hell, because of me. I was the one who suggested we visit Compound Anktsan, to talk about what the Tresnon Defense Force could do for ‘em. I was the one who convinced your father to come along, despite him usually bein’ in charge of behind-the-scenes type stuff.”

A heavy silence fell over the two for several seconds, with Selind diverting her gaze and scratching her head, as if trying to process her thoughts. Eventually, she continued, “…I should’ve been the one to die at Anktsan. But I wasn’t. Despite all that, though, Anktsan managed to fight off the Bleeders, with the help of the other Defense Force members we’d brought with us. …Ah, what am I even sayin’, you already know all this shit…”

“You should’ve brought me with you,” Relia insisted. “If I had been there, then maybe—!”

“You were 16!” Selind countered incredulously. “Your father and I weren’t about to drag you into the middle of danger! We’d been workin’ for years and years to make it so young folks like you wouldn’t have to get into fights.”

“Father wasn’t even a Chaotic. Neither are you, but at least you know how to use a gun. How was he more qualified for that trip than me? Not once have you ever given me a good answer!”

“My answers are plenty good, you just ain’t old enough to appreciate it, yet. Instead, you run off into the wastes, like you’re spittin’ on everythin’ Austilad and I worked for!”

“You think I’m the one spittin’ on that?!” Relia exclaimed indignantly, “how?! I’m actually out there, fightin’ the Bleeders myself! How long has it been since you last fought or killed a Bleeder, huh?”

“Hunger’s Bane aside — the entire point of the work I’m doin’ here in Tresnon was so that folks wouldn’t have to fight Bleeders. The reformation program, expandin’ the Defense Force to cover the surroundin’ Compounds… that’s all important work, that makes the Bleeders less dangerous.”

“And yet, we still lost Goresan, and Tresnon itself was attacked! Some good your ‘reformation program’ is!”

“You can’t condemn the whole thing on the backs of two idiots! We’ve got dozens, if not hundreds of former Bleeders here in Tresnon, all goin’ on their days and helpin’ out like normal people!”

“And yet, the Bleeders are stronger than they’ve ever been! And instead of tryin’ to get rid of ‘em, you sit here, welcoming monsters who’ve terrorized the rest of Treséd!”

“Oh, so you think the way to get rid of the Bleeders is to kill every last one of ‘em? Treséd has been tryin’ that for generations, and it’s never worked! Don’t tell me that all your wanderin’ has taught you is that continuin’ this endless cycle of violence is the answer to Treséd’s problems?!”

Another silence set in, this once stiffer than any previous. Selind and Relia’s eyes were locked, both intensely glaring at each other. After a few moments of that, however, they both looked away, in a mixture of shame and frustration.

“Ah, damn it all…” Selind muttered. “…Just look at us. Imagine if Austilad were here, now…”

“Probably would’ve just shoved dinner in our faces,” Relia replied with a bitter smile. “Like he always thought food was a good way to stop an argument…”

“I mean, he ain’t— he wasn’t wrong.”

“Maybe. But don’t think I’m stickin’ around for dinner.”

“I know you well enough to not expect that much,” Selind responded in resignation. “…You really do think your wanderin’ ways will help fix Treséd, though, huh?”

“I wouldn’t be doin’ it if I didn’t,” Relia declared. “…But… I can’t deny that I wasn’t much help at Goresan… or that I wouldn’t’ve been able to stop the Hunger’s Bane attack from happenin’. I’m still too weak…”

“’Weak’ is one thing I know you ain’t,” Selind countered. “You’re stronger than most, Relia. And… I’m sorry for talkin’ shit about how you do things. I just… well, with how little you’re around, it’s sometimes hard to remember that you ain’t a kid, anymore.”

“I’ve been of age for three years,” Relia replied incredulously.

“Just goes to show how little time you spend in Tresnon!” Selind remarked with a smirk — though the expression quickly faded into a forlorn smile. “I really do miss you, you know. You should visit more often.”

“I…” Relia looked up at her mother, only to glance away, a pained look on her face. “…Can’t. If I stay here for too long… I’ll never leave.”

“You really that afraid of stayin’ in one place for too long?”

“I’m afraid that if I do that, I’ll forget just what the Bleeders have and can do to Treséd.”

“You lost your father to the Bleeders,” Selind pointed out. “I’m sorry to say, Relia, but that sticks with you. You don’t need to go wanderin’ Treséd to remember that feelin’.”

“…”

“Besides, it ain’t good to latch on to that kind of anger. If everyone did that, we’d never have the reformation program here, you know? And that’s helped out way more than either I or Davídrius ever expected.”

“…I suppose… but… …I can’t stop, not now. Not while there are still other Compounds that could use my help.”

“You have a whole damn list of reasons for why you wander, huh?” Selind questioned, and then sighed in resignation. “That’s just like you, though. Didn’t think I’d be able to convince you to stick around, anyways.”

“I’ll… maybe think about visitin’ more, though. Maybe. If you can stop tryin’ to convince me to stick around, at least.”

“Ha! I’ll try, but no promises. I ain’t the only one you gotta worry about, though.”

“Who…?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. We both know Karísah’s smitten with you. I also know you’ve managed to dance your way around that, somehow. But you can’t be doin’ that forever. It ain’t fair to either yourself, or to her.”

Relia diverted her gaze uneasily. “…I know, but…”

“This applies especially if you’re gonna insist on continuin’ that wanderin’ lifestyle of yours,” Selind insisted. “You should know well enough how dangerous it is to keep goin’ up against the Bleeders. You should know that if you keep wanderin’ Treséd, well… you might never get a chance at closure.”

“…”

“I know you’ve probably thought about this yourself, but I still think you need to actually talk with Karísah about this. I don’t actually know how you feel about her — and I ain’t askin’ you to tell me — but you’ve got to come to some kind of decision. Accept her feelings, turn her down, I don’t care. Just don’t keep leadin’ her on, especially if you’re gonna keep puttin’ yourself in harm’s way.”

“But she… she wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what? Your desire to wander? I doubt that. Don’t forget that she lost both her parents to the Bleeders. And she’s been raised by Davídrius, who lost both of his parents to the Bleeders. Karísah knows well the kind of pain that Tresédians face. …Or is that the problem? You think you haven’t suffered enough to be with Karísah, since you still have me — your mother?”

“That’s… that’s not it.”

“…Well, I’ll take your word for it. Either way, though, Karísah is one hell of an understandin’ person. I bet she’d even be willin’ to wait for you, if you just actually addressed her feelings.”

“Mother…”

“Alright, alright. Just one more question before I drop the subject, though. Karísah’s set to leave for Riverana tomorrow, and she’ll be gone for a while. Are you at least gonna go see her?”

“…I… don’t want to distract her. Not this close to the ACT. It’s only a month, or so, anyways…”

“Right…” Selind released a wistful sigh before turning to look out over the waters of Mirage Lake. Dim golden lights from the lakefront to the west skimmed off of the water’s surface, offering the only source of illumination in the dark night. “…Well, I can’t force you to do anythin’. Just, keep everythin’ I’ve said here in mind, alright? And try not to get into too much trouble, out in the wastes. I’d hate to lose you.”

“And I’d hate to be dead,” Relia replied. “…I’ll think about everything. And… sorry for implyin’ you aren’t takin’ father’s death seriously.”

Selind turned to look at her daughter in surprise, only to find that Relia had already disappeared from the pier. An amused, yet resigned chuckle escaped Selind’s throat as she re-adjusted the gun strapped to her back. She turned to the side, her gaze lingering for a moment on the monument bearing the name “Austilad Condsa”. “…That daughter of ours really is somethin’ else, ain’t she?” she remarked, “although, slippin’ past the Defense Force so easily… that’s a hole we needa patch…” A moment passed, followed by Selind shaking her head in amusement before turning to walk away from the monuments, leaving the pier silent and empty once more.

---

*

The soft sounds of the waters of Mirage Lake lapping against the piers and lakefront of Compound Tresnon filled the dark evening air, masked only by the crowds that diminished in size with the light. Students and other younger folk remained out, enjoying the night that led into their weekend, but even the noise brought about by that simply mixed with the waves and other crowds over a distance, turning into a serene sort of background noise.

Gavon sat back in his chair on the far eastern side of the lakefront, distant enough from the main sources of activity to feel at peace, but close enough to hear the sounds of life and take in the sights of others enjoying the start of their weekend. In relaxed comfort, the Black Suns officer slowly finished off his dinner, occasionally tossing scraps into the waters for the nearby fish and birds to take. On the ground to his side was his rifle case; he had just wrapped up a busy day of instructing at WCU, helping out with Defense Force patrols, and then taking some shooting time with Selind. Normally, they would get dinner and a drink together afterwards, but Selind had excused herself tonight to “take care of something personal” — so Gavon was left to eat dinner on his own. Eating alone wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he didn’t mind the serenity of sitting in silence to take in his surroundings, especially given how little time he’d had to do so since the Hunger’s Bane attack over two weeks ago.

His dinner in serenity came to an abrupt close, however, as a comms alert appeared on his AR display. Upon noticing the individual attempting to contact him, he quickly gestured to open up the comms connection. “Master Captain Gavon Savénos, here,” he remarked as he casually sat back in his chair again, dividing up the remnants of his dinner into small pieces to begin tossing to the wildlife. “…It’s been a while, Krydonin.”

«You really are too cavalier with names,» replied a stern female voice. «Most superior officers would have your ass for not greeting them by rank.»

“Alright, alright, Master Colonel. That better?”

Krydonin sighed, audible even over the audio-only call. «Sometimes I wonder why I have to interact so frequently with a Master Captain. And then I actually talk to you, and immediately remember why.»

“Oh come on, Krydonin, you enjoy it! The gulf of power between us is so vast, we don’t even need to keep up the pretenses of rank and address.”

«You’re still a Black Suns officer, Savénos. I’d appreciate it if you acted like it.»

“Oh, please. My affable demeanor is the entire reason I was assigned to the Schools of Chaos in the first place!”

«That’s true for many reasons,» Krydonin deadpanned.

“Anyways,” Gavon replied, idly flicking pieces of food into the lake and watching the fish eat them up, “what’s the call for? And so late, too.”

«I suppose it would be late where you are. I only just arrived on Nimalia an hour ago, so I’m still in Nimaliaka Central.»

“Oh? And what brings you here?”

«It’s a professional matter — and for the time being, a confidential one. While I’m here, however, I decided to check in on you.»

“I see. I take it this is about my recent report.”

«That, and more. But we’ll start with the report. You mentioned that one of these ‘Bleeders’ had a cybernetic prosthetic?»

“So say the Deans. I’ve taken a look at the debris they recovered, and it sure looks like part of a prosthetic, to me.”

«What are the chances it’s a Black Suns model?»

“Straight to the point, eh, Colonel?”

«Just answer the question, Savénos.»

“Right. Well, there isn’t enough debris to tell — the bits we have are standard fare, when it comes to prosthetics. There’s one thing I find suspicious, though: according to the Deans, the Bleeder who had this prosthetic had an embedded energy shield to go along with it.”

«Embedded energy shields aren’t solely a Black Suns feature.»

“No, but her shields stood up to sustained fighting against three of the Deans — Davídrius Wrikax, Christeané Kolstén, and Rebehka Tchiréon. I hear you’ve worked with Hero Machina before, Colonel, so you should have an idea of what that means.”

«That was two decades ago. However, I understand what you’re getting at. You think this prosthetic really was a Black Suns model, then?»

“I think the chance is too great to overlook. Most other prosthetic manufacturers don’t produce commercial variants with such high shield resilience.”

«I feared as much. And combined with the fact that these outlaws have Black Suns armor, too… I’ll be direct, Savénos. Do you think Sector 2 is involved?»

Gavon fell silent for a moment, his casual demeanor transforming into something more serious as he thought out his next words. “…I don’t think there’s enough information to say, right now,” he eventually replied. “But I’m leaning towards ‘no’. The Bleeders who had our armor — they were incredibly blatant about it. That doesn’t sound like Sector 2. If Sector 2 was behind the Bleeders, then I’d expect to see them using Chaos Knights armor and tech, or something along those lines. Something that wouldn’t link people back to the Suns.”

«That’s what I suspected, as well. It sounds like whoever’s backing the Bleeders — if there even is anyone — wants the Nimalians to think it’s us.»

“Agreed. It’s too early to know who that might be, though. It could be the Chaos Knights, the Light Keepers, hell, it could even be a third party. Our armors and tech are commercially available, after all. It could be anyone behind the Bleeders.”

«I highly doubt it’s the Light Keepers; secretly backing groups like the Bleeders is the complete opposite of what they do. The Knights, though… well, this is nothing we haven’t dealt with before, as much of a pain in the ass as it might be. At least we can rule out Sector 2, for now.»

“What’s the word, there? Are they up to anything?”

«They’re always up to something. But there isn’t much new to tell you about.»

“What about what happened on Oriciid’kas? I hear we unexpectedly had to bomb an entire district.”

«So you heard about that… …well, it’s only been two days, so the investigations into how things got so bad have only just begun.»

“I’ve heard that a Sector 2 squad showed up just a day or so before things went to shit. Is that really a coincidence?”

«It’s too early to say. That Chaos Knight being present throws a wrench in things, too. But I can tell you one thing… the Supreme Commander has already expressed ‘interest’ in this investigation.»

“Oh, wonderful. I bet we can all guess the outcome, then: full exoneration for Sector 2, full blame on Sector 1?”

«The Supreme Commander isn’t daft. He knows that Sector 1 is the only source of goodwill and positive PR that the Black Suns have left, so he isn’t about to torpedo us publicly. I’m sure Sector 2 will be mysteriously absent from the report, however.»

“This is ridiculous. Are Generals Greant or Sheak going to do anything about this? Why do we keep letting the Supreme Commander walk all over us?”

«The Generals’ hands are tied. Remember, their positions are as much political as they are military and merit-based. If they give Commander Regek even the slightest reason to replace them without drawing attention from CSA regulators, then he will.»

“The wonders of politics. But why would the regulators matter, in this case? We had to have tattled on Regek a dozen times by now, and the regulators have done nothing.”

«I don’t have an answer for that, Savénos. There could be a dozen reasons for why the CSA hasn’t said or done anything, chief among them being the fact that they have bigger problems to deal with. Rebuilding their planets, fending off the Drakkars, dealing with increased Riaxen aggression, and now this resurgent metallic infection…»

“So the CSA just doesn’t think Sector 2 is that much of a problem, then?”

«It’s all just speculation, at this point.»

“I guess. But it really is all down to us, then, huh? Down to Sector 1 to keep Sector 2 in check, just like always.”

«It may be harder than ever, but it’s always been our job, regardless. That brings me to the next thing I wanted to ask, though. Are there any signs of Sector 2 activity regarding the Schools of Chaos?»

“Not yet, but I’ve only been here for a month and a half.”

«Well, our intel says that Sector 2 still wants to put a couple of young Chaotics into the Schools of Chaos. We still don’t know why, but their plans don’t seem to have changed. Do you have any thoughts on that? On if it would even be possible?»

“My thoughts, huh…” Gavon trailed off idly, resuming his casual stance — though he took subtle glances all around himself, so as to verify that no one was eavesdropping. “…Well, given that the Schools have taken in some Earthian Chaotics, I think it might be easier for Sector 2 to get in a couple of their own than we thought.”

«I thought the same. Do you know which school the Sector 2 Chaotics would be most likely to enroll in? Will we need to arrange for some kind of transfer for you?»

“I doubt it. The Deans seem to use Wrikax Chaos University as both a testing ground and a place to put people and policies that would be unpopular amongst the general Nimalian public. In that sense, I’m confident that any Black Suns students would end up at WCU.”

«A harsh assessment. I didn’t take the former members of Hero Machina to care so much for public opinion.»

“I don’t think they have a choice. Founding these Schools of theirs expended all of the political capital they earned from ending the Nanocreature War, so all of their dealings with the NSD and Union government since then have been on their own merits. And I think we both know that these Schools are a threat to the conscription paradigm across the galaxy — and therefore, a threat to the power of every government and military.”

«You’re being a little dramatic, but I suppose there is truth there. The Schools are a valuable first step towards ending Chaotic conscription, after all. We need to ensure they remain open. Is their closure really that much of a threat?»

“You have access to more intel than I do, Colonel, but personally, I very much think that it is. Public opinion is on the side of the Deans, at the moment, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that if the public ever turned on the Deans, then the NSD would use that as an excuse to close the schools and end this little experiment.”

«And you think that letting foreign students into the Schools of Chaos would be enough to turn the public?»

“The risk is bigger than you’d think. I know most of the galaxy seems to think of us Nimalians as accepting and peace-loving, but the truth is that Nimalian Homeworlders tend to be pretty prideful. There are already rumblings of discontent at the idea of the Schools of Chaos opening enrollment to all Nimalians in the Union, rather than just Homeworlders. Now imagine if those same people knew the Schools were taking in Earthians, or worse, Black Suns? Especially when those admissions aren’t even merit-based? The public would turn on the Deans so fast, it’d make your head spin.”

«And WCU somehow doesn’t count?»

“Are you kidding? The average Homeworlder couldn’t give two shits about Treséd or its inhabitants. That’s a big reason why the Bleeders are such a problem. Most Nimalians don’t even think of WCU as a School of Chaos.”

«Huh. Your assessment of your own kind is harsh.»

“You only say that because our propaganda has worked. If you don’t believe me, try asking any other Nimalian officer in Sector 1. They’d say the same as me, I’m sure.”

«I see. It sounds like the continued existence of the Schools of Chaos is in a more precarious position than I thought, then.»

“Yeah. …Well, I’m probably overstating the danger a little. But it’s definitely there.”

«When you look at things from that angle, though… it sheds a very different light on the new Bleeder aggression that you’ve reported.»

“…I hadn’t even thought of that. Are you saying that someone might be funding the Bleeders to thrash WCU, and force the Deans to ship Tresédian students to other nations, or something?”

«It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. Given what I know of the Deans, I very much doubt they would be willing to let Tresédian students fall behind their peers. Kaoné Densalin, at the very least, would feel responsible enough to teach them at her own school. But, given what you’ve told me here, and what I’ve heard about Nimalia, myself… inviting Tresédian students to a Nimaliakian school would turn the public in a worse way than Earthians or Black Suns would.»

“That’s true… and if that’s the case, then the Bleeders’ mysterious benefactor could be anyone who has a vested interest in closing the Schools of Chaos, or in maintaining Chaotic conscription. Skies above, it could even be the NSD itself behind the Bleeders!”

«Let’s not get carried away, now. This is ultimately just speculation.»

“True… Even so, this makes the situation at WCU much more dire. Surely it’s fine if I alert the Deans about the Sector 2 Chaotics? This kind of thing very much affects them!”

«You can tell them about our speculation regarding the Bleeders’ benefactor — that part is only speculation, after all. But your actual purpose there is still Sector 1 confidential.»

“I can’t even tell them that the Black Suns might want to shove their own Chaotics into the system? I won’t even advise them not to accept…”

«It’s too risky. Sector 2 doesn’t yet know that we have this intel. If we leak it to the Deans, then it could very well make it back to Sector 2 — and if it did, then they would realize they have an information leak, and close it. We can’t let that happen.»

“I see the reasoning, but I don’t like it. It feels like I’m constantly lying to the Deans, and to the people of Compound Tresnon.”

«I know it’s hard, but stick it out, Savénos. Remember that you’re there to help keep an eye on Sector 2’s activities. If they really do get some of their own Chaotics into WCU, then you’ll be the one to watch them, the one to guard against any suspicious activity. You’ll be the one in charge of protecting the Nimalians.»

“I get that, but I can’t really feel good about it if I’m still deceiving the locals. Isn’t Sector 1 supposed to be all about transparency, anyways?”

«We’re more transparent than the other Sectors by far, but we can’t afford full transparency. Even the Supreme Commander doesn’t want us to be fully transparent.»

“Since then it would be blindingly obvious that he’s hobbling us?”

«Among other things. It’s why he hasn’t touched the White Suns, since they’re the only full transparency group we have.»

“Damn…” Gavon sighed in resignation, watching as the wildlife of the lake gobbled up the last of the treats he had to feed them. “…Sometimes, I really wish I could just quit.”

«And go back to the NSD? You would never.»

“Ha! You know me well. I really would like to see these Schools succeed, though…”

«You and me both, Savénos. As well as most of Sector 1. I have to say — in my almost two hundred years, the Nimalian Schools of Chaos are the closest this galaxy has ever been to ridding itself of the conscription paradigm. And even this is just a fragile first step.»

“’Two hundred years’, she says,” Gavon scoffed. While Colonel Krydonin was indeed almost 200 years old, that was in SGT, where the years were only 300 days long. In Nimalian or Earthian years, she was closer to 160 years old — which was still much longer than the Nimalian life expectancy of 120 years, and much shorter than the Siion life expentancy of 250. “Just rub it in, why don’t you.”

«What can I say, Savénos. I’m a Siion. It’s not my fault we live longer than you Nimalians.»

“Yeah, yeah. Still… I ultimately agree with you. And I think the Deans would, too.”

«That’s good to hear. I have some things I need to tend to soon, though, so this will have to be the end of our chat. Is there anything else to report, Master Captain?»

“Nothing else, Krydonin. Don’t you worry — I’ll do my best to keep showing the good side of the Suns to the Earthians and the locals. And I’ll do my best to protect WCU and the other Schools of Chaos, swear to the skies.”

«You Nimalians and your skies. But I appreciate it. Be careful, Savénos. The future of our galaxy is looking turbulent, at best. Master Colonel Sinstis Krydonin, out.»

“Turbulent, at best, she says…” Gavon muttered to himself after the call had cut out, leaving him to idly look out over the dark waters of Mirage Lake, and the endless star-speckled night skies above. “…I hope you’re wrong, Krydonin. But I somehow doubt you will be…”