“…This doesn’t seem safe at all.”

“Can’t say that I disagree, Major,” Gavon replied as he passed Hackett a glance. “But sometimes, you just have to make do with what you have.”

“And what we have right here is tons and tons of empty space!” Selind remarked while taking aim through the scope of her laser sniper. The sprawling, sandy wastes of Treséd seemed to reach in every direction from her position atop the northern walls of Compound Tresnon, making for long and clear sight lines across the remarkably flat terrain.

“I don’t know…” Hackett muttered, looking at each of Gavon, Selind, and Luke as the three set up their guns on the edge of the wall. “I mean, I get it. You don’t have space for an actual gun range in the city. But firing out into the wild with no backstop, no warning signs to passersby…”

“The warning sign is the sound of gunfire,” Selind remarked.

“To put things more charitably…” Luke quickly added, “since the terrain outside the Compound is so flat and sprawling, with minimal obstructions, it means that we can spot any bystanders long before they would actually enter our firing lanes.”

“Not to mention the romantic ideal of three friends shooting the shit atop a quiet, dreary wall,” Gavon quipped.

Hackett responded with a sigh and a shrug. “Alright, alright. I suppose this way, you’re also helping to keep watch, too. Still… I can’t say this is what I was expecting when I heard about you going shooting with friends, Captain.”

“Sorry, Major,” Luke replied with a sheepish smile. “Guess I’ve been here for long enough that this just feels like normal.”

“Seems like you ain’t the normal one, Luke,” Selind said. “After talkin’ with your teammates some more, it’s pretty clear that you’re the odd one out, when it comes to carin’ about rules and such!”

“…Captain?” Hackett turned to give Luke a level stare, her arms crossed.

“She just means that I don’t sweat the small stuff,” Luke replied uneasily. “I’ve never actually done anything out of line!”

“I can attest to that,” Gavon affirmed. “He’s certainly more conscientious than many other soldiers I know.”

“What I was really talkin’ about is how your Colonel keeps grillin’ Davídrius about those kids of yours,” Selind explained. “Saito makes good points, no doubt about that, but I don’t see many people try to put a fire to Davídrius’s ass, ha!”

“Anyways, Major, are you going to join us?” Gavon questioned while glancing back at Hackett. Of the four standing on the wall, Hackett was the only one without a gun.

“I’m not a sniper,” she replied. “The Captain here has always had much better aim than I, and from what he’s said, the two of you are at least as good as him. I can’t hold a candle to that.”

“So he talks about us, does he?” Gavon turned to give Luke an amused look.

“Nothing bad, I hope,” Selind remarked.

“I haven’t said that much…” Luke said with a sheepish smile.

“All I’ve really heard from him is how the both of you are snipers,” Hackett answered. “I know you’re the leader of the Defense Force, Selind, and I know you’re with the Suns, Gavon… but that’s about it.”

“So you want to get to know us better, is that it?” Gavon asked.

“You could say that.”

“I see…” Gavon paused for a second to take aim with his rifle and then fire into the distance, sending a hypersonic bullet into a small piece of scrap about a kilometer away. His rifle used electromagnets instead of chemical propellants to shoot bullets; when coupled with him putting the weapon on a lower-power setting, he was able to fire the weapon without generating much of a ‘bang’, allowing him to turn back toward Hackett and address her in his normal speaking tones. “Well, what do you wish to know?”

“It’s not like I came here with prepared questions,” Hackett replied. “This isn’t an interview. I just wanted to talk, is all.”

“We could share a little bit about ourselves,” Selind suggested, taking aim and firing with her gun as she spoke. “Now that I think about it… I don’t think I’ve actually heard much of anythin’ about either of y’all, Luke, Gavon. Not outside of shootin’ and workin’ ‘round here.”

“Huh, that’s a good point…” Luke mused.

“There isn’t much to tell, on my end,” Gavon remarked as he set his rifle down, just as Luke began taking aim with his. “I was born and raised over in Riverana, in the city of Fendréna, up in the north. It’s a nice little town, right on the edge of a big lake and a river — kind of like Tresnon, but surrounded by plains, instead of desert. I got my Chaotic powers at 8, then got drafted into the military later on, as all Chaotics do — into the Riverana Protection Force, specifically, since they were still Riverana’s military at that time. But the RPF had just had its interstellar arm ripped off and absorbed by the recently-formed NSD, so they were just floundering when I joined. Shortly after that, Riverana replaced the RPF with the SFC as their official military. It was around that time that I jumped ship to the Black Suns, where I’ve been for around, oh… 15 years, now?”

“’Not much to tell’ my ass,” Selind replied. She paused for a brief moment as Luke fired his rifle, only to glance back at Gavon and continue, “I’ve heard from Davídrius’s Riveranian friend that it was pretty wild over in Riverana, in the years after the NSD’s creation. And you’re sayin’ you lived through that, yourself?”

“It was wild from an administrative standpoint, but to the boots on the ground, not much about the day-to-day changed. Aside from some supplies being harder to get, I suppose,” Gavon said. “Still, it was sad to see the decline of the RPF, and the SFC did not look like an appealing organization to work for. They always struck me as incompetent, at best.”

“And now, they’re the ones who were behind the Bleeders coming back,” Luke pointed out as he leaned his rifle against the ramparts and stood up, joining the other three. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“The NSD existed by then, though, right?” Hackett said. “Did they not force you to join them?”

“I slipped through the cracks,” Gavon responded with a wry smile. “You see, when the NSD was created, the RPF managed to negotiate a deal in exchange for losing its interstellar arm. That deal allowed them to have the ‘first pick’ of Riveranian Chaotics, while the rest get shunted off to the NSD. That’s how I ended up with the RPF, instead. And the RPF still technically exists, too — I could still be working for them, if I really wanted to. But it was pretty clear that neither the RPF nor the SFC would be accomplishing anything of note anytime soon, so I decided to leave. The NSD was an option, of course, but the Nimalian Union didn’t exist in 8039 — we were still the Nimalian Territories, back then. So the NSD seemed like little more than putting a military commander in charge of an interstellar nation. I wasn’t too keen to be a part of that.”

“That sounds a lot like some of the criticisms people levy at SERRCom…” Luke commented.

“It’s certainly something to be wary of,” Gavon declared. “So, in the end, I decided to join up with the Black Suns. Started out in Sector 4, as most people do, and managed to work my way into Sector 1 in about five years. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“If you joined the RPF shortly after the NSD was created, then…” Luke mused, “…you must be around 40 years old, right?”

“Close. I’m 38. In Nimalian years, at least. Then again, Nimalia’s year is only five days shorter than Earth’s, isn’t it? 38 Nimalian years is probably still 38 Earth years.”

“38?” Hackett echoed doubtfully, her eyes reflexively flicking up to Gavon’s silver hair. “I thought you were older…”

“What, because of my hair?” Gavon reached up grab a strand of his hair and hold it in front of his face. “…While not exactly common, many Nimalians have silver or white hair from birth, independent from albinism. Some Citans and Dra’kis have naturally silver or white hair, too. This isn’t age-related graying, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It’s pretty rare in Treséd,” Selind remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Tresédian with silver hair.”

“You mostly only see it in Nimaliaka and Riverana, or in people who can trace their ancestry to those two continents. The royal family in Nimaliaka, the Nimals, is the most prominent example.”

“It’s certainly a nice color, though,” Luke said. “I think it fits you pretty well.”

Gavon offered Luke a smile. “Glad you think so!”

“You’re 38, though, huh? You’re closer in age to me than I thought.”

“How old are you?”

“30.”

“31,” Hackett corrected. “Your birthday was last month, Captain.”

“Wait, it was?!” Luke glanced incredulously toward Hackett. “Wait, what’s today?!”

“February 1st, 2130.”

“Ah, damn… I guess I’ve been on Nimalia for so long, I lost track of Earth’s own calendar…”

“That’ll happen,” Gavon remarked. “My work takes me all across the galaxy, so I often have to remind myself what the date is on Nimalia to keep things straight.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that,” Selind replied. “But by the sounds of it, I’m the oldest of us all, you young fucks. I even have two years on Davídrius.”

“Davídrius is only 40 or so,” Gavon said. “You can hardly complain about being old until you’re 90 or 100, I’d say.”

“That’s a high bar!” Luke exclaimed.

“Most Nimalians live to see 120,” Gavon refuted. “If Selind is in her early 40s, then she isn’t even middle-aged.”

“I suppose that isn’t too much longer than us,” Hackett remarked as she and Luke exchanged a glance. “The life expectancy on Earth is around 100 years right now, I believe. I myself am 37, so we’re about the same age, Gavon.”

“Y’all are forgettin’ about the harshness of Treséd,” Selind interjected. “Maybe most Nimalians live to the ripe ol’ age of 120, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a Tresédian older than 70 or 80, if that. Hell, seems like half the people born in these wastelands don’t even make it to 40.”

“That’s… pretty bad,” Luke said with an uneasy frown.

“Practically unsustainable, I’d think,” Hackett remarked.

Selind shrugged. “Yeah, well, it is what it is. At least things seem to be gettin’ better, recently. Until Strén showed up, I guess.”

“Any stories you’d be willing to share?” Gavon questioned.

“Ha! Too many to count,” Selind remarked with a bitter smile, her gaze drifting over the streets and buildings of Tresnon. “If we’re startin’ with the basics, though… well, I was born and raised right here in Compound Tresnon. Place wasn’t quite as busy when I was a kid, but we were still the biggest Compound this side of Treséd, even then. Interestin’ thing, though, is both my parents were Chaotics.”

“Really?” Luke replied. “But you aren’t one yourself, right?”

“That happens more frequently than you might think,” Gavon explained. “While your race — and therefore, to some extent, your genes — can affect how likely it is for you to become a Chaotic, or what kinds of Chaotic abilities you might get, actually being a Chaotic isn’t hereditary.”

“And that seems to be what happened with me,” Selind said. “My parents were the Guardians of Tresnon, and they were really hopin’ for a kid with Chaotic abilities. But when I turned out not to have any, they decided to train me to be a Guardian, anyways. Even took me out to the dumpin’ grounds by the Eastshield Mountains to scrounge about for my own personal weapon…” She lightly tapped the laser sniper resting atop the battlements. “I’ve had this thing for over 25 years, now.”

“Wow. And it still works?” Hackett questioned incredulously. “That gun must be incredibly hardy!”

“It is a laser sniper,” Gavon pointed out. “Laser weapons have less moving parts than mag rifles.”

“Certainly makes maintenance easier, that’s for sure,” Selind declared. “But findin’ replacement focusin’ crystals can be a real pain in the ass ‘round here. Either way, this trusty sniper of mine has gotten me out of quite a few scraps, heh.”

“And it’s a weapon your parents got for you, huh?” Luke commented. “Must be pretty nice to have something to remember them by. …Uh— wait, are they even—?”

“Yep, they’re dead,” Selind responded airily, as though discussing something no more impactful than what she had eaten for breakfast — though despite her light tone, her expression had grown somber, her eyes idly sweeped across the distant wastes. “They were both killed on the same trip I got this rifle, actually.”

“Bleeders?” Gavon questioned.

Selind nodded. “Yep. Like I said, my parents were Guardians, and that made ‘em Bleeder targets. In those days, the Bleeders would never dream of attackin’ Compound Tresnon, so they never had a chance at my parents… but when we left to look through the dumpin’ grounds, the Bleeders took their chance.” She took a deep breath. “I still remember the look in my mother’s eyes when she told me to get back to the aircraft and leave, while she and my father fought off the Bleeders. ‘Don’t worry about us— we’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘The Bleeders have nothin on your ol pa,’ my father said.” Selind released a wistful sigh. “That was the last thing I ever heard either of ‘em say.”

A momentary lull fell over the group, as Luke, Hackett, and Gavon failed to find the words with which to respond.

“…Buuut that was over 20 years ago,” Selind spoke up again. “I’m over it. And besides, compared to folks like Davídrius or Karísah who lost their entire home Compound, I ain’t got room to complain.”

“I still don’t see how this is even remotely sustainable,” Hackett said. “I keep hearing about how Tresédians have lost both parents, or entire families, or even entire Compounds, all thanks to the Bleeders. But if that were really true, then how are there still people left on this continent?”

“There are a lot less of us than there used to be, that’s for sure,” Selind remarked. “You can find the ruins of old Compounds all across the continent. They’ll’ve been picked clean by Bleeders and scavengers, of course, but the signs are there: Treséd used to have way more people than now.” She then turned to look out over the wastes again. “There’s a kind of ebb and flow to it, too. Bleeders only get by by raidin’, after all, so if the population drops low enough that the Bleeders can’t survive by raidin’, then their numbers drop. And with less Bleeders, the remainin’ Compounds get room to grow, again… and when they grow big enough, people start joinin’ the Bleeders again, and the whole thing starts all over. Over an’ over, for hundreds of years…”

“Quite the vicious cycle…” Gavon replied. “I take it, then, that the Bleeder resurgence today is just a part of that cycle?”

“Eh, kinda. I think the real Bleeder comeback was 20 years ago, with Strén’s first rise. Today’s problems are just the aftermath of stuff from 20 years ago.”

“Excuse me if this is an insensitive question, but…” Luke eyed Selind uneasily. “Strén first rose 20 years ago, and you said that the Bleeders killed your parents over 20 years ago… is there a connection, there?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Selind replied. “But if Strén was the one behind my parents’ deaths, he never admitted it — and you just know that he’d gloat about that if he could. My bet is that the murderers were some outside group of Bleeders who were tryin’ to get some favor with Strén by killin’ high-profile Guardians. Either way, like I said, this was over 20 years ago. No use stewin’ over it, now.”

“If you insist,” Gavon said. “You have a daughter, though, right? Surely there’s a happier story, there.”

Selind laughed. “Ha! I wonder. Did you know, I almost left her father before she was born? Young, stupid me was afraid of that kind of commitment, ha ha. Not to mention believin’ in the ol’ lifeforce superstition…”

“What does that mean?” Luke questioned.

“Oh, right. Outsiders ain’t familiar with that, huh,” Selind replied. “So, a common superstition in Treséd is that becomin’ a parent is the end of you. Some folks think that your own ‘lifeforce’ or whatever disappears into your kid, and then you just die — so, we Tresédians ended up callin’ the whole thing the ‘lifeforce’ superstition. Of course, the truth is that parents don’t have that much higher chances of dyin’ than non-parents. It ain’t like Bleeders or disease or whatever target parents specifically, after all. But there are lots of Tresédians out there who’ve lost one or both of their parents, so that superstition still hits hard. I mean, you ever wonder why Davídrius refuses to call Karísah his daughter, even though he took her in, raised her, and for all intents and purposes, is her father?”

“Now that you mention it…” Luke mused, “I think I’ve heard something from Mark about how Karísah is reluctant to call Davídrius her father.”

“Yeah, that’s because Davídrius is convinced that if he admits that he’s basically a parent, then some cosmic force will conspire to kill him. I’m pretty sure he knows it’s an irrational fear, but he lost both of his parents, and Karísah lost hers, and I lost mine…” Selind sighed. “You put all that together, and it’s hard to shake what it does to you. Hell, I almost let it get to me, 20 years ago. I almost refused to have Relia.”

“I can’t imagine how that feels…” Hackett muttered.

“It’s a pretty shitty mindset to be stuck in, that’s for sure,” Selind replied. “But at the end of the day, I made up with Austilad— uh, that’s Relia’s father, and my husband. And we both went on to become Guardians of Tresnon, just like my parents.”

“Pardon my candidness,” Gavon spoke, “but I can’t help but note that this Austilad fellow doesn’t seem to be around. Is he…?”

“Yep.” Selind nodded, a bitter smile again finding its place on her face. “…After Strén was stopped 20 years ago, Austilad and I — and Davídrius, too — we all realized the need for the Compounds to work more closely together, to stop the Bleeders from becomin’ such a threat, again. As part of that, Austilad and I founded the Tresnon Defense Force, and started tryin’ to negotiate defense pacts and such with other Compounds in the region. While we were on one of those trips… the Bleeders attacked. And Austilad died during the defense of the Compound.” She stopped, taking a deep, thoughtful breath before continuing a second later. “…That was 5 years ago, or so. Relia was 16, at the time. She’d already been accepted to WCU, and was gettin’ ready to go to school, and all that. But then, one day, a month later… she tells me that she wants to wander the wastelands and fight the Bleeders! Alone! You cannot imagine the fight we got into about that.”

“She started wandering when she was 16?” Luke questioned incredulously. “Isn’t that kinda…”

“…Young?” Hackett finished.

“That’s what I said,” Selind replied. “But she wasn’t havin’ it. Kept sayin’ that other people in Treséd were forced to fend for themselves at even younger ages, kept sayin’ that she knew how to handle herself. She is a Chaotic, that much is true, but I wasn’t about to let my 16-year-old daughter wander Treséd all alone. But… she left anyway. Not much I could’ve done to stop her.”

“You can hardly blame yourself for that,” Gavon insisted. “A Chaotic who decides that they want to do something isn’t easily stopped, especially if they can teleport like Relia can.”

“But she’s at least still alive and around, right?” Luke pointed out.

“Yeah, I know now that she can take care of herself just fine,” Selind said. “But at the time… well, I’d just lost my husband, and then my daughter just up and left! I must’ve lost ten years of my life from how much I worried about Relia over the next year or two. The heartless child didn’t even visit Tresnon at all until she was 18!”

“How’s your relationship with her, now?” Hackett asked.

“Better… but still not where it was before Austilad died.” Selind released a lofty sigh. “…But I think that’s just how things are gonna be. She has her way of dealin’ with Treséd’s problems, and I have mine, and that means that we don’t see each other often. At least I know she’s alive and well, out there.”

“That’s…” Luke eyed Selind uneasily, and then moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “…I’m sorry.”

“You have nothin’ to apologize for,” Selind replied as she casually brushed Luke’s hand aside. “You ain’t responsible for what’s happened in my life. Ain’t really anyone to blame except the Bleeders, really.”

“And yet, you still endorse that Bleeder Reformation Program,” Gavon said.

“I ain’t gonna write off the whole gang just ‘cause some of ‘em are psychotic bastards,” Selind declared. “There’s some good buried deep, there. Some folks who get trapped with the Bleeders ‘cause they didn’t see a better way to survive, or ‘cause they were forced to join. And even if those people didn’t exist, from a fully practical standpoint, the Reformation Program is important. After all, the most important step to makin’ Treséd a better place is to get rid of the Bleeders, right? Well, if you can ‘get rid’ of ‘em by tellin’ ‘em that you’ll overlook what they did in the past and give ‘em a job, food, and a roof over their head so long as they don’t act up in the future… well, it’s sure a hell of a lot easier than tryin’ to hunt down and kill every damn Bleeder on the continent.”

“You don’t even punish them at all?” Hackett questioned.

“Can’t afford to,” Selind replied. “Remember, a lot of the Bleeders are hedonists, and only do what they think is ‘easy’. If we can make it easier for ‘em to get shelter, food, and drink by workin’ an honest job than by raidin’, then we can get ‘em to stop raidin’ — and from there, we can work on turnin’ ‘em into upstandin’ members of society. If you throw a punishment on there, then that route is suddenly a lot less ‘easy’ for the Bleeders, and they’ll stick to raidin’.”

“That’s a very calculated take on things,” Gavon remarked. “I can see the logic, but… hmm. I believe I’ve mentioned this before, but the Black Suns have a similar program for ex-cons, where we seek to rehabilitate them and give them a job. But that only applies after they’ve done their time for whatever crime they committed. Here, though… with your program, it sounds like nasty people can get away without ever taking responsibility for their actions. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“I don’t think we got a choice,” Selind replied. “Believe me, I don’t much like it either. But if you had to pick between lettin’ a murderer go free — on the condition that they don’t murder again, of course — between that, and lettin’ this endless cycle of violence just go on and on and on…” She sighed. “Maybe a more stable society could properly punish criminals, but in Treséd, the Bleeders have too much power, relative to the Compounds. We can’t force them to do anything. Hell…” She held her hand out towards the wastelands. “What you see here is the result of generations of the Compounds tryin’ to ‘punish’ the Bleeders, tryin’ to force the Bleeders to stop doin’ what they do. It just doesn’t work. Not in Treséd…”

“I suppose…” Luke muttered. “And… well, obviously I don’t have the same background and experience as you, but I’m still having a hard time believing that this is really the right way forward. Is forgiving criminals really working out for you? Is that really all it takes to get Bleeders to stop being Bleeders? Surely there’s people who abuse that lack of responsibility.”

“Well there’s more work to it than that, obviously,” Selind retorted. “And sometimes, yeah, it doesn’t work out, and a former Bleeder starts actin’ up, again. Or someone hears about the program and uses that as an excuse to do a bunch of heinous shit before tryin’ to join us, thinkin’ that we’ll just ignore their willful malice. When that happens, me and Davídrius deal with it in a way that makes it clear that we don’t tolerate bad faith actions when it comes to the Reformation Program. But 9… well, maybe 8 times outta 10, the former Bleeder stays a former Bleeder, and becomes a useful member of Tresnon. Like Ralak!”

“If you say so…”

“It’s still an immensely heavy burden that you’ve taken on,” Gavon said. “If I had suffered through the things that you did, Selind, then I don’t think I’d be able to be so empathetic. I’m certain I’d have devolved into a hateful bastard.”

“Eh. I just do what needs to be done for Treséd and her people. Turnin’ to hate sure hasn’t solved anythin’, so far…” Selind replied with a shrug. “…Anyways, I think that’s enough sob stories, for now. What about the rest of you, what’s your stories?”

“Well, there’s even less to say on my front, compared to Gavon,” Luke remarked, though his tone indicated that he was eager to turn the conversation away from the dark place Selind had taken it. “I was born and raised in the suburbs of Dallas, over on Earth. My oldest brother is the father of Austin, one of the recruits we have here at WCU, and I’m only ten years older than Austin — so he was a lot like a younger brother to me, growing up. That’s how I got to know Spike, Sky, and Twy, as well.”

“That’s a hell of a coincidence,” Gavon pointed out. “You’re a member of SERRCom’s only Chaotic Support Fireteam, and your nephew — and his three friends — then become one of SERRCom’s only 12 Chaotics?”

“It struck me as weird, too,” Luke replied, only to shrug. “But I don’t really see any connection. Sure, I’ve worked with the Eximius Vir, but I don’t see how that would have any effect on Austin and his friends becoming Chaotics. Pierce, Phoenix, Conrad, and Kestrel all became Chaotics despite having nothing to do with either me or the Eximius Vir, after all.”

“True…”

“Is your nephew becoming a Chaotic why you joined SERRCom, then?” Selind asked.

“No, no, I’ve been with SERRCom for about ten years, now,” Luke replied. “I’ve always liked guns ever since I was a kid, and joining SERRCom was a way for me to use guns as a job while also getting to see the galaxy. Somewhere along the way, I ended up on CSF-1, and… the rest is history.”

“You’re really brushing over how you became one of the best unaugmented marksmen I know,” Gavon said with a smirk.

Luke shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t feel like I practiced especially hard, or anything.”

“Not to mention that we technically aren’t unaugmented,” Hackett added.

“Translation and AR implants barely count as augments,” Gavon retorted. “Those kinds of implants are as common as stars in the night sky among interstellar travelers.”

“I guess I should’ve expected a member of the Black Suns to say that.”

“Ha! I may be biased, but I’m sure you’d hear the same opinion from anyone in any of the galactic militaries.”

“Is that your whole story, then?” Selind questioned, turning back to Luke. “Sounds pretty light, to me.”

“I did say that I didn’t have much to say,” Luke remarked.

“Ha ha, true!” Gavon replied, and then glanced toward Hackett. “Well, that just leaves you, then.”

“I’m afraid my life story isn’t any more interesting than the Captain’s,” Hackett said. “I was born and raised near Los Angeles, went off to an officer’s school when I turned 18, and then joined SERRCom at 22. While in school, I met the woman who’d eventually become my wife, and married her a couple years after I joined SERRCom. And… yeah. That’s my story.”

“That can’t be it!” Selind exclaimed.

“I’m afraid it is,” Hackett replied. “There isn’t much to say about my childhood, and most of the story-worthy things that I experienced in SERRCom are still classified.”

“That is how things go, sometimes…” Gavon lamented. “Still, in a way, it’s good that your childhood wasn’t remarkable. It means that nothing too bad happened to you.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Don’t think you can just gloss over your wife, however. Most people I know would jump at the chance to gush about their significant other!”

“’Gushing’ isn’t really something I do,” Hackett countered.

“Surely you can at least tell them how you met her, Major,” Luke suggested.

Hackett passed Luke an annoyed glance before sighing in resignation. “…There isn’t much there, either. Like many couples before me, I met Allison in a bar. We were both in college at that point, so we commiserated about schoolwork, talked about sports a little, and then hit it off from there.”

“C’mon, give us more than that!” Selind urged. “What’s she like? What do you like about her?”

“Well, uh… she’s… smaller than me, I guess…”

“That doesn’t say much,” Luke remarked. “Hell, Major, you’re the tallest member of CSF-1, and I’m no shortie, myself.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Hackett retorted dryly. “I’m not usually put on the spot, like this.”

“Do you mean to imply that you haven’t seen the Major’s wife, either?” Gavon questioned, passing a glance toward Luke.

“I’ve seen pictures here and there,” Luke replied. “Mostly of her and Hackett going surfing or snowboarding or something. And I’ve heard that Allison is a civil engineer. But otherwise, the Major doesn’t really talk about her that much.” He then passed Hackett a cheeky look. “It’s one of the few things she gets embarrassed about!”

“I just don’t see what my wife has to do with my work,” Hackett insisted.

“I can’t help but disagree!” Selind countered. “…Uh, well, I dunno how it is on Earth, or in any of the proper militaries. But at least here in Treséd, the knowledge that I’ve got folks who depend on me, who love me, is what keeps me goin’. The idea of lettin’ down my daughter by just up and dyin’ is terrifying, so I do my damnedest to make sure I don’t die, and to try and make this world a better place so that when I do eventually die, my daughter won’t need me. Surely, it’s the same for you?”

“Of course, but…”

“Now now, Selind, let’s not squeeze her too hard for more info,” Gavon remarked. “Some people just don’t like to talk about their personal lives, and that’s fine.”

“I’m glad someone understands,” Hackett said.

“Aw, you’re no fun, Major,” Luke quipped.

“If you want to gossip, then get your own spouse to talk about,” Hackett shot back.

Luke grimaced. “Oof… right where it hurts…”

“Now that you mention it…” Selind glanced between Luke and Gavon. “Neither of y’all have romantic partners, huh?”

Luke and Gavon exchanged an unreadable glance before Luke put on an uneasy smile. “Nope…”

“Romance is difficult, for Chaotics,” Gavon said. “You know how we’re all forced to be a part of a military. And every reputable military has anti-fraternization regulations. Which means that most Chaotics only really meet the people that they work with, but aren’t even allowed to establish romantic relationships with them. It’s a mess.”

“I suppose I hadn’t even thought of that…” Hackett commented. “That’s really unfortunate.”

“It is. But it isn’t all bad. Since the major militaries of the galaxy are rarely, if ever in conflict with each other, it’s become fairly commonplace for Chaotics to have ‘cross-military’ or ‘inter-military’ relationships. I know several of my colleagues in the Black Suns who have relationships with people in the NSD, or one of the CSA militaries.”

“Isn’t that a security concern?”

“Technically, pragmatically… it probably is. But as I said, the major militaries of the galaxy don’t fight each other. The Drakkars and the Riaxen are our main opponents. Sure, the PMCs will sometimes be used to put down uppity colonies here and there… but even that doesn’t involve us fighting a national military.”

“I bet the folks in charge probably overlook it to let people blow off some steam, too,” Selind pointed out. “The way I hear it from Davídrius’s friends, Chaotics are often given a lot of leeway compared to regular soldiers, as a way to make up for bein’ forced into the job in the first place.”

Gavon nodded. “That’s true, to an extent. To put it cynically, it’s a balancing act. The politicians in charge know that Chaotics are powerful, and want to use our abilities for their own ends — but they also know that if they push too hard, then they’ll have a rebellion on their hands. It’s happened multiple times in the past; hell, the Black Suns, Chaos Knights, and Light Keepers were all originally founded in the aftermath of a Chaotic rebellion, for the simple purpose of giving Chaotics some vague semblance of choice when it comes to their career.”

Luke laughed uneasily. “You’re right, that does sound pretty cynical…”

“But it’s also just the truth…” Hackett said. “Chaotics are the playthings of powerful governments and militaries. We’ve seen it play out exactly that way in SERRCom with our own two eyes, Captain.”

“True…”

“Hard to believe that Chaotics are the ones bein’ forced into doin’ things,” Selind remarked. “Here in Treséd, it always seems to be Chaotics runnin’ the show. It’s always a Chaotic in charge of the Bleeders, for example. So how’d things get flipped around in the outside world?”

“Technology,” Gavon replied. “Guns, energy shielding, and especially CENT fields are incredible equalizers. Throw in some propaganda for good measure, on top of the fact that Chaotics can go berserk, mixed with the fact that Chaotics make up far less than one percent of the entire galactic population… and you’ve got a recipe for the majority stomping all over the minority.” He shook his head warily. “Chaotic rights are a travesty. …Well— there’s no denying that, before the invention of the firearm, Chaotics would frequently abuse non-Chaotics in just about any society in the galaxy. It’s in Nimalian history, Siion history, Dra’kis, Citan, Syraus history — everywhere in the galaxy, you can find stories of Chaotics acting as dictators or warlords, or even posing as gods. And once non-Chaotics developed the technology to even the playing field, they were quick to turn the tables on their once oppressors. But that societal vengeance quickly turned into oppression of its own, which developed into today’s conscription paradigm, where all Chaotics across the galaxy are forced to join a military. It’s outdated and ethically suspect, but it’s a boon to the people in charge, and the common person hates changing the status quo… so it’s what we’re stuck with for now.”

“Well that sounds fucked,” Selind replied.

“And also in line with SERRCom’s own answer to Earthian Chaotics…” Hackett muttered.

“SERRCom is certainly taking after the other national militaries, for better or for worse,” Gavon said. “The only difference so far is that you’re incredibly insular. There are no Earthians living long-term on non-Earthian planets, no Earthians in any of the PMCs. There are no Earthians working in any non-Earthian organization, for that matter. Even relationships between Earthians and non-Earthians seem to be non-existent.”

“The PMC part is probably because PMCs have a distinctly negative reputation on Earth.”

“So I’ve gathered from interacting with your students, here. It still seems, to me, that SERRCom is keeping a tight grasp on any Earthians who wish to leave Earth.”

“That’s just because of the economy,” Luke replied. “Earth doesn’t really have anything to offer to the rest of the galaxy, aside from Subspace Drives. So our currency isn’t worth much. As a result, traveling is just too expensive for most folks. It’s part of why I joined SERRCom — because it was the only way I could reliably see the galaxy.”

Gavon raised an incredulous eyebrow. “…So, to re-iterate: it seems, to me, that SERRCom is keeping a tight grasp on anyone who wants to leave Earth.”

Hackett’s brow furrowed as she gave Gavon an annoyed look. “Are you saying that SERRCom intentionally sabotages Earth’s economy, just so people have incentive to join?”

“I’m not saying that it’s intentional at all, or even that they’re sabotaging Earth, necessarily. But it certainly sounds like SERRCom stands to gain a lot from Earth’s current political and economic position.”

“It’s true…” Luke admitted.

“Y’all are makin’ it sound like life outside of Treséd is actually fucked,” Selind remarked.

“Ha, well, that’s what happens when we only talk about the negatives!” Gavon replied with a smirk.

“I can’t say that I expected you to be so anti-establishment, though,” Hackett said.

“One might even argue it’s why I was sent way out here,” Gavon commented cheekily. “Anyways, I seem to have taken us all down one hell of a tangent. Sorry for that.”

“Wait, what were we talking about before…?” Selind questioned. “Life stories… romance, right!” She then looked at the other three incredulously. “How did we get from ‘romance’ to talkin’ about how the galaxy’s elites are keepin’ everyone down?”

“Heh, that’s just how conversations go, really. You follow tangent after tangent until you end up somewhere you didn’t expect,” Luke remarked. He then passed Gavon a quick glance. “…But I think I get what you were talking about. Chaotics have a rough time with relationships, because the people in power use that to keep Chaotics in check.”

“Ah… don’t interpret that as me trying to pressure or guilt-trip you, or anything,” Gavon responded uneasily. “I just tend to complain a lot, that’s all.”

“Pressure…?” Hackett echoed, glancing between Gavon and Luke in confusion — followed quickly by a look of realization. “Oh… I see what’s happening here.”

“Do you…?” Luke questioned.

“I guess that’s up to you,” the Major replied. She then sighed and crossed her arms, her gaze drifting out across the wastelands outside the walls. “…To be perfectly candid, I’m still not sure that I trust the Black Suns. I think that a future clash between SERRCom and the Suns isn’t out of the question.”

“I certainly hope you’re wrong, Major, but…” Gavon smiled bitterly. “Your concern, I think, is justified.”

“What, are you sayin’ that y’all can’t be friends with each other?” Selind questioned.

“If I wanted to be fully, coldly pragmatic, then I probably would,” Hackett replied. “…But Gavon here has a point. A lot of rules and regs exist more to enforce the status quo, than to actually keep people safe and responsible. Those rules, it’s possible to break without too much consequence, so long as you keep your wits about you.”

“Major…?” Luke looked up at her in confusion. “Are you…?”

“Don’t worry about me, Captain. I’m just thinking out loud,” she said. “Now, Gavon mentioned how there aren’t any documented relationships between an Earthian and a non-Earthian, even though we’ve been in contact with the rest of the galaxy for around 30 years, now. And on that note… I know that SERRCom explicitly forbids relationships between members of SERRCom and members of a national military or government on Earth, but I don’t actually think the rulebook says anything about the militaries or governments outside of Earth’s territory.”

“…Seriously?”

“Don’t quote me on that, of course. And… while SERRCom undoubtedly has many problems, I’m still loyal to them — so if I see anything that could legitimately threaten SERRCom’s operations, then I’ll report it. But outside of that… I don’t think anyone would care what an officer of SERRCom gets up to on their own time.”

Gavon chuckled. “…You remind me of some of my superior officers, Major.”

“I’m… lost,” Selind muttered. “What are we talkin’ about, now?”

Hackett shook her head. “It’s nothing, I’m just… thinking out loud.”

“Uh… okay…?” Selind responded in confusion, only to turn to the side, as if distracted by something.

Luke passed Selind a quick glance before looking back at Hackett. “Those sure are some… interesting thoughts, Major.”

“They are what they are,” Hackett said with a shrug. “Just… be careful, Travis. And don’t do anything that you think will come back to bite you in the ass.”

“Hey, don’t judge. I might be in to that,” Luke quipped.

“Are you into that?” Gavon questioned incredulously.

“Whether you are or not, I don’t want to hear about it,” Hackett interjected crossly.

“Ha ha… sorry, Major,” Luke replied with a sheepish smile. “And… thanks. I think those ‘thoughts’ of yours have put some of my own to rest.”

“Speakin’ of rest…” Selind interjected, turning back to face the three with a serious expression on her face — while simultaneously packing up her gun. “It looks like we ain’t about to get any ourselves anytime soon.”

“Why?” Gavon questioned as he, Luke, and Hackett all stiffened their posture in response to Selind’s sudden seriousness. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, somethin’s happenin’, alright,” Selind remarked with a grim look. “I just got word from the Defense Force. Just a few minutes ago, the Bleeders launched an attack on Compound Falnon.”