Author's note:

Holy hell. I've just uploaded chapter 24 and read a volume of Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso - and now I'm back to writing more?! Jeez... I kinda want to just sit back, and sleep...

I should try stay awake like normal, or I'll just end up permanantly jetlagged. Gotta get into Adelaide's +2.30 time zone as soon as possible.

Aisling tapped her toes downward, felt her feet snap towards the ground and grabbed the handrail to stabilize her upper body. A kick of her legs, a flick of her toes and she'd turned a corner.

That may have been my last shower ever.

Somehow, she didn't seem to mind. She'd never really liked showers. She'd only ever had three types of showers – cold water showers on Brink, virtually no water showers aboard the IMS Austraeus and later the TKY Shikinami, and low pressure showers on Venice 3. To her, showers were functional things, not for pleasure or enjoyment – but rather, for scrubbing the dirt or oil or sand out of one's pores.

She hit the next corner, somersaulted.

The hell?

Danniek had been far ahead of her. Did he wait for me, hear me coming and start gliding again – or have I caught up?

Lets find out.

She tapped her toes downwards for the smallest of seconds; just long enough to add the tiniest bit of sideways movement to her momentum. Five seconds later, her feet brushed the ground. On went the magnets and she kicked off the wall, flicked her toes upwards a second later, now rotating and drifting both forward and slowly towards the wall directly opposite the one she'd just kicked off. A few seconds later she repeated the process – a tap of her feet against the wall, just enough to make her go that little bit faster. She was a tiger, tearing after her prey – no more gliding after Danniek but actively sprinting along the walls after him.

Either he's going slow or I'm going fast!

She outstretched her arm ahead of her.

Then the pain in her legs hit her, lactic acid searing her muscles like bullets tearing through her tendons. She gasped, choked on air she hadn't been breathing, doubled over. Continued gliding down the corridor at a sprinter's speed, bounced off one corridor wall, ricocheted into another.

She tried to uncurl herself but her chest wouldn't expand and her lungs wouldn't breathe. Her legs were limp, numb, useless lumps of flesh and bone.

Despite her legs failing her, she didn't just stop. Inertia carried her forward towards the end of the corridor where nothing but a solid metal wall awaited her. Would she land on her feet? Her back? Her neck? Her head?

She coughed, sipped the air for a second and tapped her toes downwards as a last-ditch attempt to slow herself. Her magnet boots flicked downwards and she scraped her back along the wall and kept moving.

Damnit!

And then she hit something much softer than the metal wall at the end of the corridor. This something gave a grunt as she hit and she tried to twist her body to see what it was. No response from her weak legs.

"I've got you," said Danniek softly from behind her.

His jump kit was firing, slowing them down, and while they still both hit the end of the corridor in a jolt it was significantly less than what it would have been had Aisling not been stopped by Danniek.

"What happened?" he asked, stuck to the wall at the end of the corridor.

"I," breathe, "forgot to", breathe, "breathe." Breathe.

"You what?" He grabbed her shuddering shoulders, hauled her body around to face him.

"It's a," breathe, "thing with," breathe, "people who," breathe, "grew up on," breathe, "on brink." Breathe. "Small," breathe, "lungs. Can't," breathe, "breathe properly." Breathe.

He raised an eyebrow. "And you still reckon you should be jumping to Venice 7 with us?"

"The hell is Venice," breathe, "7?"

"Sorian. Venice 7 is the proper name, Sorian is its nickname. It was first settled by Sir Orian before being purchased by Ms. Kodai."

"Oh. Why don't they just," breathe, "leave it at Venice 7?"

"Dunno. Same reason they call Yuma 5 'Victor'."

"People are stupid." Breathe. In and out.

"I'll ask again. If you can't even breathe properly, how do you expect to survive a hotdrop?"

"We'll have oxygen masks. So I'll be fine, right?"

"Are you being one of those stupid people you were just talking about?"

"Because that's my only problem," she continued, ignoring him. "I came from brink. I'm short, I'm strong – as long as I can breathe properly, I'll be good."

He swallowed. "Very well then. Stay near me and you'll be okay."

She smiled. "Okay then. Take care of me."

"Lets get going, they'll be waiting for us."

"Hello again!" grinned Zeta, opening the door. "Ready for so... wow."

She paused for a second. In front of her stood Bruce, jet black hair slicked back and smelling like a stallion.

Did I really just think that?

"Hey, Zeta," he grinned. "Lets go launch some comms pods."

"Yeah," she mumbled, flicking her eyes over him. "Oh, you left your jacket here last night."

"So I did." He took it from her clothes-hook, patted the pocket.

Probably to check that his Wingman's still in the pocket.

She'd returned it after she got back from lunch, he'd never know it had been missing.

"So, shall we go?" he asked.

"Yeah. My hoverbuggy's downstairs, I've got the pods aboard."

She slung her electric katana off her back and tossed it into the hoverbuggy's storage compartment atop the three comms pods, slammed the lid shut and jumped into the Pilot's seat. Bruce slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt and Zeta pressed her thumb onto her communicator's screen, activating the engine before buckling her own seatbelt and placing her feet on the pedals. Pressed both pedals gently.

Two propellers underneath the hoverbuggy began to spin, inflating a synthetic rubber skirt underneath the two-man car and it lifted into the air on a pocket of air.

Zeta slid her arms into the control gauntlets out of habit and mentally cursed her mistake. Most people wouldn't even have a manual control system, let alone use it. I should have just used the autopilot.

Bruce looked surprised. "Manual, huh?"

"Yeah," she grinned, hoping he wouldn't think it too odd. "Feels like I'm in control, y'know? I never liked autopilot."

"Me neither," he said quietly.

She gently tilted her forearms upwards, elbows down. As both her left and right elbows were tilted downward the left and right rear rockets began to fire softly. As both her left and right fists were tilted upwards the left and right forward rockets stayed off. She kept her forearms parallel, and the rockets stayed firing in parallel. The hoverbuggy started moving forward out of its garage.

She was moving onto the road now and thus pulled one of her left triggers, turning on the indicator. She eased off the right pedal, slowing one of the propellers under the hoverbuggy. The propellers spun in opposite directions – but as the clockwise propeller was now spinning faster than the counterclockwise propeller the overall movement of the propellers was clockwise. This resulted in an equal and opposite reaction from the cabin of the hoverbuggy – a turn to the left. Zeta allowed her left forearm to tilt horizontally and pushed her right elbow down further while pushing her right elbow out far from her waist, tilting the right rockets downwards and firing them at maximum power, banking the hoverbuggy as it turned.

"Not bad," commented Bruce. "You seem to have a knack for manual."

"One develops a knack after a few years," fired back Zeta, shining from the compliment. She slammed her right foot back onto the pedal and reoriented her forearms and the hoverbuggy began to move towards a hill to the East of Alpha.

Author's note: I've just finished Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso. I cried. If you want to cry, you should read it too.

"Is there anyone not ready?!" called Jaggerjack. He paused for a second before continuing. "Alright! We're moving out of the hangar in thirty seconds!"

He sat back in his seat, buckled his restraints. Watched the monitor.

"This is docking control," said the intercom. "Shuttles, you are cleared to exit the Shikinami."

"Brace for acceleration in twenty seconds," said the monitor.

Aisling closed her eyes, clasped Nathan's hand in her left hand, Danniek's in her right. Both their palms were as sweaty as hers.

I'm not the only one who's nervous.

"Ten seconds!" called Jaggerjack. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five! Acceleration in three, two, one, mark!"

The shuttle's chemical rockets began to burn softly, gently pushing its inhabitants into the backs of their seats. Beside them the other shuttle did the same.

"Rockets burning at 99% efficiency," displayed Overwatch's monitor. "Reactor within safety limits. Titan restraints functioning. No inefficiencies detected. No warnings to declare."

"Ms. Brand!" called Jaggerjack from the upper floor. "You and your mechanics did a good job!"

She shuttle was outside the airlock doors now and they began to roll shut.

"This is docking control," said the intercom. "You are now outside our jurisdiction. Good luck, D-Team."

"This is jump control," said the intercom. "You have a free jump path to Venice 7, given name: Sorian. Estimated jump time: 19 hours and thirty-two minutes. Shuttle team D, you are clear to jump in forty seconds."

"Brace for rotational acceleration in three, two, one, mark," displayed the monitor, echoed by Jaggerjack. The shuttle's auxiliary rockets burned softly and the shuttle began to turn.

"Ooooh, I would so love to be doing this in a military shuttle," muttered Danniek.

But that would blow the Austraeus's our cover immediately.

"Brace for rotational acceleration in three, two, one, mark," displayed the monitor. The shuttle's auxiliary rockets burned softly and the shuttle slowed, now facing towards where Venice 7 – AKA Sorian - would be in 19 hours and 32 minutes.

"Jump control, we are jumping in 10 seconds," displayed the monitor.

"Jumping in 10!" called Jaggerjack. "Nine!"

The soldiers in the shuttle began to chant, their voices rising in unison to mask their anxiety.

"Eight! Seven! Six!"

Aisling, Nathan, and a quivering Phillip joined in.

"Five! Four! Three!"

Deep within the two shuttles black holes flickered into existence. Light bent around the shuttle in odd angles – the light from the planet and the starship beside them stretched to enormous proportions while the stars ahead of them seemed to shrink.

"Two!" roared the inhabitants of the shuttle.

The pressure within the shuttle's chemical fuel reserves doubled.

"One!"

Vents connecting the shuttle's hydrogen and oxygen tanks opened with a hiss!, a spark plug fired.

"MARK!"

Venice 3 and the Shikinami disappeared and Aisling was shoved into her seat with a scream of fear and a scream of wonder that the whole thing worked.

"We're here!" sang Zeta, shoving her arms forward, firing the forward rockets, slowing the hoverbuggy down. A few seconds later she eased her feet off the pedals, lowering the hoverbuggy into the sand. A tap of her communicator's screen later and stabilizing spikes dug into the ground.

The hoverbuggy was parked atop a rather sandy hill, in the middle of the dark Venice 3 night.

Zeta hopped out, opened the storage compartment and slung her electric katana over her back, pulled a pair of red beers out of the compartment.

"Want one?"

"What is it?"

"Red beer. It's… well, it's like… imagine a normal beer, and now imagine it stings the back of your throat like a strong ginger beer."

"Sure."

She threw him the can, opened her own and took a sip, looked up at the sky. A second later, she heard the psshh! of the seal of his beer being broken.

Bruce took a sip, and then decided to ask the question that had been on his mind.

"You're rather attached to that thing on your back," he asked. "What is it?"

"An electric katana." Zeta pulled it off her back and pulled it slowly from its sheath and it glistened in the starlight for a few seconds.

"Ahh!"

She sheathed it again and slung it over her back again, feeling as though she'd just exposed a very hidden part of herself to this man. "I was born on New Tokyo four," she explained. "Where they've managed to engineer compact, personal EDF generators. You want to protect yourself? Normal bullets are useless when everyone's carrying around a vortex shield on their left arm. You've gotta use something charged to strip the plasma away." She pulled the katana off her back again; slinging it across her shoulders was habitual. Unsheathed a few centimetres and held it out to him to have a closer look, blushed ever so slightly as he took it.

"Of course, electrolasers, tasers and charged projectiles also work."

"Why not use one of them? Surely an electrolaser would be safer."

An electrolaser fired a two lasers at a particular frequency through the air at a target, ionising the air in its path. This made the air conductive, and allowed a pair of electrodes positioned at each laser to electrocute whatever the lasers hit as if the lasers were copper wires. A Titan's vortex shield would be stripped of its plasma; a personal EDF shield would similarly be rendered useless.

"A friend gave it to me. She's dead now."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," sighed Zeta. "Anyway, I got good with this katana," she said, balancing the hilt on her finger as if to prove it. "So, not having a ranged weapon doesn't really matter that much."

"Ahh."

She finished her red beer, tossed it back in the hoverbuggy.

"So, lets launch some probes!" she grinned. "Thought of your messages yet?"

"Yeah, give me a second." He pulled his communicator out of his jeans' pocket. "Yeah, what were those communicator addresses again?"

Zeta pulled one of the probes out of the hoverbuggy's storage compartment, propped it upright. "Lets see… okay, first up is 832941-Broadcast. Send a message to that for the probe's broadcasting array."

"Sending message… done."

"Cool," said Zeta, fingers flying across her communicator's screen.

The probe's serial number was not 832941. Her communicator, however, was. A message had just appeared in a folder she'd made the night before – named "Broadcast".

"Plus," she muttered under her breath to her AI, "forward this message to the actual probe's broadcast array. Serial number 942377."

"Forwarding successful," said the AI into her earpiece.

The probe beeped once.

"The probe's received the message," said Zeta, turning to Bruce. "Next up is the probe's computer. Send your destination's coordinates to 832941-Computer."

"Sending coordinates."

Her communicator vibrated again, indicating the arrival of a message in her "Computer" folder. Plus automatically forwarded it to the probe's computer folder, and the probe beeped once more.

"Last up is the launch message. You wanna launch it now?"

"Sure."

Zeta picked up the probe in both hands and hauled it ten metres away from her hoverbuggy and propped it upright before returning to the buggy.

"She's ready to launch. Send 'Launch' to 832941-launch and she'll be off!"

"Now?"

She grinned at him. "No time like the present!"

Her communicator vibrated once again, the probe beeped a third and final time – and the space in a cylinder above the probe began to contract and compress. The probe, in comparison, seemed to stretch high into the sky, a towering pillar of dark silver.

"That's the jump sequence!" shouted Zeta as the sound of the probe's jump drive rose to a loud whine. "See why we do this out here?!"

The rockets pulsed, and the probe disappeared, a column of light extending into the air where the probe had once been. There was a crack! as the probe broke the sound barrier somewhere high in the distance, and the light began to fade.

"She's off," said Zeta from beside him, gazing upwards. "Ready for the next one?"

"Ready when you are."

She hauled the next probe out of the storage compartment, muttering a command to plus as she did. "Change my communicator's address to 832942 and forward the next three messages I receive to 942378-broadcast, 942378-computer, and 942377-launch, respectively."

She made a show of looking for the probe's identification sticker, which she'd replaced to say ' 832942' the night before.

"Same deal as the last probe," she said to Bruce, "but this time, use 832942-broadcast instead."

She'd been dreaming for a long time. Dreams of Titans; of Pilots and starships named 'Austraeus' and 'Shikinami', and of friends named Aisling and Nathan and Philip and Samantha and John and Bonerhead. She'd been on a planet, she'd dreamed, of sand and dirt and dust, of name 'Venice', with a Pilot who cared about her who had been called George.

There had been a shuttle, she dreamed. She'd gotten aboard to head for a planet named 'Carlyle', to steal some fuel for the 'Austraeus', which had been renamed the 'Shikinami'. She'd gotten into a cryopod, so that the shuttle could fly faster. She'd gotten in, and it had been really cold, and light and bright had rhymed…

"-phia!"

That's right. Her name ended with 'phia'. What was the first bit?

"Sophia!"

Ah, that's what my name is.

"You in there?!" asked a voice. A hint of chav.

"Nnngghhh..."

"Pull her out," ordered a different voice. French accent.

HISS!

"Gah!" gasped Sophia, plunging forth from the cold cryofluid and into the warm air. She heard beeping sounds synchronized with her heartbeat. Looked to the left, saw the IV drip in her arm. Pulled it out, stared at it for a moment with drunken fascination.

It's blue…

"You're awake now!"

She sat up, looked around, saw the inside of the shuttle.

I'm awake now..?

"Cahn yeh remembur me name?" asked Bonerhead. "Ahn how maahny fingers ahm I holdin' up?"

"Bones Deen, and three."

"Nah, I'm holdin' four."

"Cut it, Deen," ordered the French woman. Jenni. That's her name. "You're right, Sophia. He's only holding three up."

"Aww, come on lass," muttered Bonerhead. "I'm only tryin' teh have some fun."

"Get out of there and put some clothes on. We've just jumped past Solcarlyle and we're on approach to Carlyle refueling station. We're going to be taking that station in two hours."

"Yes, Ma'am," grunted Sophia, hauling a leg out of the cryopod.

Ah. That's right, I'm practically naked.

She placed her shivering left leg onto the deck floor, pulled her upper body upwards, now standing, wearing nothing but the underwear she'd had on when she'd goten into the cryo-pod. She felt cold liquid drip from body, shivered. Moved to sit on the side of the cyropod, opened the cryopod's storage compartment and pulled a towel out. Dried most of the liquid from her body and soaked underwear. Pulled on some under-armor leggings like she'd been trained to do before moving on to the upper half of the under-armor. Stretched, before pulling on a pair of over-armor pants, followed by torso over-armor and then chest over-armor. Boots came next. The last piece of 'clothing' to don was her usual shy and quiet persona.

"All right, listen up!" called Jenni from the upper deck. "Can everyone on the lower deck hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" roared the soldiers from the lower deck.

"The fact that our shuttle isn't full of holes means that they have not discovered us yet! In a few minutes we're going to turn the shuttle around and drift towards Carlyle with our jump drives engaged. With any luck they won't notice us till we're too late, at which point we'll jump underneath the refueling station and use them as a shield."

A picture appeared on display screens around the shuttle.

"This," called Jenni, "is an image our sensors have just captured of Carlyle refueling station!"

The station itself was an enormous metal behemoth floating above the surface of Carlyle, an enormous yellow gas giant. Thin metal girders connected huge circular storage tanks together, presumably full of tritium and deuterium – reactor fuel, extracted from the gas below by means of a pipeline that dangled below the station, disappearing below the surface.

High above the station itself was another circular storage tank. It was from this tank that ships were allowed to refuel – given that they had paid the refueling station the necessary funds first. Any ship approaching the high refueling tank without paying beforehand would have a warning shot fired at it. Any ship approaching the lower station would be filled with railgun projectiles without warning.

"So!" shouted Jenni, pointing at the picture. "We are jumping underneath this bit! Once we're there, everyone is going to put their oxygen masks on. We're going to unload underneath the station and assault the command center, which we believe to be located here! The station is in orbit, so we'll be doing this mission in a zero-g environment. Everyone understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good! We'll be leaping around the outside of the station for this mission! Don't get too far away or your magnetic boots won't work! Always stay within a metre of the station!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Private Leonard! You're in charge of squad one! Private Sona! You're leading squad two! Private Jackson, you're taking squad three! I'm in my Titan, on my own! Are we clear?!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Squad one will move from the unload point under the station towards the north end of the station and will advance up the north end towards the east! Squad two will take the south end of the station and will advance east! Squad three will take the civilian mechanics down the middle, behind the other two squads. I will stay in front of squad three and provide support for squads when they need it.

As no invasion force has ever made it that far, we don't know what to expect. Carlyle may have a private military force on contract, they may have automated defense turrets, they may have spectres. Keep your eyes peeled and be careful. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Jenni looked around the shuttle's upper deck, surveying the soldiers listening to her.

"We arrive in one hour! Stretch the kinks out of your muscles, load your weapons and be ready to unload by then. The other teams will be stealing a fleet from Kodai about now, and will be jumping to this station with the Austraeus's legacy drive soon. Let's take this station by then!"

The shuttle faced Solcarlyle, moving towards Carlyle refueling station but burning its engines to slow it down. From an observer located on Carlyle's refueling station, the shuttle's engines could be mistaken as an expanding bright spot on Solcarlyle's surface.

The only reason this maneuver had worked was because Venice 3, Solcarlyle and Carlyle 1 only arranged themselves in a suitable position once every 15 kilohours. Technically, anyone could pull this kind of maneuver off by approaching from behind Solcarlyle and using Solcarlyle to mask the glow of their engines once they passed.

There had, of course, been previous attempts to take Carlyle – such a bounteous supply of hydrogen in its three isotopes, so close to a trading planet like Venice 3 was bound to attract attention. Said attempts had involved fleets of battlecruisers retrofitted for stealth until the last moment possible, swarms of frigates and destroyers so large they could block out . Attempts that had ended with said battlecruisers fleeing with their tails between their legs and their hulls scarred with railgun fire.

Rumor had it that a demon lurked below Carlyle's surface, crushing fleets with its invisible hands whenever anything seemed like it was close to overwhelming Carlyle's defenses. In the century they had been operational, Carlyle's legendary 32 orbital railgun battery had never failed to repel an invasion force.

They drove home back into Alpha afterwards, Bruce admiring the city and the stars, Zeta working the control gauntlets and pedals.

I wish he'd glance this way a little more.

What?

Did I mean that?

Surely not… I mean, I'm Zeta. I'm a professional. I'm only doing this because Menelaus is paying me to investigate him.

Yeah, that's it. Part of the job, she told herself.

"So that's it, huh?" asked Bruce as the hoverbuggy smoothly turned a wide, sweeping corner, Zeta gently easing off the left foot pedal and tilting her elbows to match.

"I guess so," she sighed. Smiled softly at him. "Your messages are away, off to whomever is out to receive them."

"I don't even know if there will be anyone to receive them," he mused. "All I have is hope." He turned to her and returned the smile. "But hey, if I don't try, I'll never know, huh?"

If I don't try, I'll never know, huh?

"Well," said Zeta, a thought suddenly striking her, "I never got your communicator address."

"Huh?"

Oh come on, please.

"It's just a communicator, so none of that fancy comms pod stuff. Uhh… let me see..."

She laughed. "You're one of those people who can't remember their own comms address?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Ah. Wait, what?"

"You're reading the sticker on the back, right?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the road. "First two numbers declare the comms chip type. Yours is a personal communicator device, so, that number will be 83."

"Wait, I thought comms probes were 83."

"Unlabelled pods just have personal communicator device chips inside them," she lied. "So, 83 for both. Next up is your manufacturer code. Did you buy that communicator at the spaceport?"

"...Yeah?"

"And you went for the cheapest model?"

"...Yeah..?"

"Then it's probably a Kodai communicator. They're cheap here, cos' their factory is in the system. Their carrier code is 03. Last up is your communicator's unique identifier; and that's what is written on the back."

"438945."

"So, in that case, your communicator's infonet address should be 83-03-438945."

"Ah."

"Mind writing that down for me?" she asked, motioning to her communicator lying in the glovebox. "Notes application is at the home screen."

"Sure."

Yes!

"What?"

"Huh?" asked Zeta.

"You were giggling or something."

"Oh, um, nothing. Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"Corner of eighth street and second avenue, please."

"Not too far from here," commented Zeta, turning into the CBD. "They've got a few inns up eighth, right?"

"Yeah. And seventh is a tourist district. Surely just a coincidence, right?"

"Heh. At least they turn all the lights off at 21:00."

Bruce shifted his gaze towards the top of the hoverbuggy's windshield. "Light pollution, huh? The sky is prettier without it."

Zeta eased both feet off the pedals, pushing her fists downwards and her elbows upwards, slowing the hoverbuggy as it glided into a hoverbuggy park.

"And here we are!"

He opened his door, stepped out of the buggy.

"How much longer are you gonna be staying on Venice 3?" asked Zeta, hopeful.

"Mmm… I've got friends who are collecting something for me right now. I'll be off to another system when they get back."

Oh.

"Ahh, I see."

His lips moved. "I'm glad I met you, Zeta." No sound came out.

Her windpipe constricted. "Yeah, me too," she choked softly. "I might see you later, huh?"

"Yeah."

He slammed the door of the hoverbuggy and she circled the streets of Alpha for an hour. Down first street. Turn onto seventh avenue. Then to fourteenth street before a right turn onto first avenue. And then back to first. 7th. 14th. 1st. 1st. 7th. 14th. 1st. Working the pedals, flicking her elbows through the air like a machine.

And then she looked at the time and she drove back to her apartment and flopped onto her bed and cried.