Siren regained consciousness. Wherever he was, it was somewhere he didn’t recognize. Panic crept in fast. As he got his bearings, he came to realize that it was the observation deck. Another few seconds of listening and it became clear it had been repurposed as a makeshift medibay. He started to sit upright, wondering if any medical personnel would rush over and force him back down. None did—in fact, the atmosphere seemed relaxed, so he relaxed, too.
He glanced at who he was in the company of. Upon seeing Velocity tending to other patients, he suddenly remembered that they’d committed mutiny, yet there she was. Had punishment already been administered? What would it be? And where was Getaway during all this? Siren would have liked to have had a word with him. He turned to the right and was immediately panic-stricken once again. “Agh! Hosehead?!”
Unphased, Hosehead smiled. “You’re finally back!”
On closer examination, Siren’s friend no longer had exposed fuel lines or a look of blood lust. “Hey, you’re yourself again! That’s great!”
“Mhmm,” Hosehead nodded with great enthusiasm. “Everyone’s back to normal.”
Siren sat fully upright. “Everyone? Really?”
Hosehead scratched awkwardly at his cheek. “Well, not technically everyone…but most of us.”
“Ugh.” Siren wondered who he’d had to live without now. He wished he could have done something. “Well, most is good.”
“Yeah. And we can feel a bit safer since Getaway didn’t make it.”
To Siren, that sounded less like reassurance and more like Getaway would never have to face punishment. Even with Siren’s obvious displeasure, Hosehead was still smiling. “What is with you?”
“I’m just really glad you’re okay! If you died on me I’d never forgive you. You were taking so long to wake up, I kept wondering how in the pit I was supposed to figure out how to do anything if you wouldn’t be there. I was so worried!”
Siren reached for his friend’s hand and gripped it tight. “That’s exactly what I was thinking when they turned you into a sparkeater. Wait, shit! Hold on! They know I’m here, right? How’s the office? Do I need to—”
“Don’t even think about it!” Hosehead freed his hand and gestured for Siren to calm down. “It’s sorted. Inferno’s in there avoiding all the post-disaster chaos. He’s totally sick of everything. ‘The drama’. Wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already done your last shift.”
It was strange to think that, just like that, what had been plaguing Siren for years simply ended without warning. What would he do with his time instead? He knew he had a clear idea at one point, but it escaped him now—multiple layers of brainwashing took a bit of time to undo. Siren could feel all the primary programs and subroutines trying to get his perception of reality back in working order. He mulled over things as they came to him, chewing mindlessly on his thumb until one stood out above all the others. “Are the old captains back?”
“Yep. Everyone’s been avoiding them for the most part. It’s really awkward.”
“Including you?”
“Uh, yeah. I just feel too weird. I’m glad I took a stand but I’m not sure it was the right one…kicking Rodimus off his own ship…I don’t know about that. Should I get kicked off just cause I’m also dealing with a learning curve? I don’t know, and I don’t wanna chance running into him until I do. So mostly I’ve been in here. Haven’t seen Nightbeat around, either.”
That Nightbeat had managed to escape Siren’s mind for even a few minutes was proof enough of the tampering that had been done. Siren felt awash with determination to go find him and started shifting to leave, but Hosehead restrained him again and motioned for someone to come assist them. First Aid reviewed Siren’s profile, gave him a check-up, and formally released him from care.
“You don’t need me right now, do you?” Hosehead asked, taking a step back as Siren stood beside the now vacant bed.
“No, why?”
“Okay, good, it’s just that—well, you remember how my fish were about to have babies before all this happened? I haven’t had a chance to check them out yet. I’m really worried they’re gonna eat each other or that one of them didn’t make it or something! I know it’s natural, and it’d help if they have more nutrients since I haven’t been able to feed them yet, b—”
Siren smiled a bit more with each sentence. It wasn’t every day that people like them got to witness new life, it was almost enough of a reminder of the cosmic balance to be comforting in the wake of bad news. “Go, you goofball, go, it’s fine! And congratulations!”
“Okay, thanks, bye!”
Left to his own devices, Siren realized he had little to no context for where they were or what was going on. Seeing that the Velocity wasn’t busy at the moment, he flagged her down for a brief overview of the story so far, which she gladly gave him.
Since reconvening on Cyberutopia, they had made the difficult trip and parked on Cybertron so that command could sort things out with the acting government—namely, which party would get the ship, since Prowl wanted to strip it for parts to tend to an unexpectedly ignited hot spot. Siren thanked her for her time. He was sure there was a lot she had omitted, but he didn’t want to keep her from her duties, so he set off in search of Nightbeat with an additional objective: figure out what’s going on.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to look far. Standing just outside the observation deck was Nautica, idly chatting someone up.
“Nautica! Nautica!” Siren trotted up to her. “I was hoping I’d find you! Well, any of you. Team Rodimus, I mean. Cause I don’t know what just happened, and—oh, a new face!” Siren gestured to the person with which she had been speaking. “Hi, sorry! I’m Siren! Who’re you?”
“Call me Krok.” He held out his hand for a surprisingly good shake. Shaking hands with the (former) enemy—it was so novel Siren held on a few seconds longer than he should have out of sheer disbelief.
“We’re both loitering near our medic friends,” Nautica gestured to where Siren had just come from. Siren turned to see that, somehow, he had indeed completely overlooked an oversized Decepticon-purple medic working alongside the Autobots. Nautica continued as he craned his neck for a better view. “I had just come to keep Lotty company on her break a while ago, but Krok here knows so much about Decepticon history!”
Siren would’ve thought that subject was too taboo and too fresh a wound to tread, but they seemed to be enjoying it themselves—maybe things really were starting to get better. But he’d ponder all that later. “Will you ever forgive us?”
Nautica looked lost. “…For…?”
“The mutiny!” Siren waved his arms. Wasn’t it obvious? “I mean, we’re criminals! We left you for dead! If you never want anything to do with us again, I get it!”
“Siren, it’s…” She slowly let out a laugh. “No one is pressing charges. Most people on both sides seem very understanding about the whole ordeal.”
“Just like that? But that’s like nothing ever happened!”
“Uh…” Krok interjected. “What are you so upset about? Isn’t that preferable?”
“I—I guess?” Siren replied. “God, I don’t know! I was freaking out! This feels so…anticlimactic!”
“Well, that’s life, sometimes.” Krok shrugged. “Considering you’re the one who’d be in trouble, I’d take it if I were you.”
Siren went quiet for a second. “Okay! Well, I don’t like this is how it’s being handled, but I guess I’ll take it. So, anyway, how are you? Is everything okay?”
Krok seemed fine, but Nautica’s smile faded.
“I, uh…” Siren stammered. Maybe he should have eased into that. “Do you want to go talk about it…?”
Nautica’s gaze shifted slightly to Krok, who made a subtle gesture that he didn’t mind ending their conversation prematurely. Despite having his blessing, she still needed a moment to decide whether she actually wanted to go off with Siren, but, ultimately, she did. They bid Krok farewell and found seclusion in the nearby oil reservoir—it was a familiar spot for the aquatic Nautica, and lent itself to the sort of talk they’d be having (or so Siren had heard).
They both watched the unmoving oil reflect shimmering stars as they sat on the dock. Neither of them seemed sure who should speak first. Eventually Siren decided it had been long enough for Nautica to gather her thoughts and tried prompting her. “So…it sounds like a lot happened!”
“Certainly. I didn’t know so much could occur in just two weeks. Although once you factor in the time travel that makes a bit more sense.”
“Listen, I don’t know much about Caminus, but considering it never caught our radar, I’m guessing it was pretty quiet there.”
“More or less.”
“And then you just drop yourself in the middle of what might as well still be a war…”
Nautica gave a sardonic smile. “That is exactly what I did.”
“So what I’m saying is it’s okay if you don’t know how to handle it!”
“It would be strange if I knew how. I just witnessed more death and destruction than I ever thought possible. The things people say about Cybertronians…I thought there was a good deal of hyperbole, but it’s all real.”
“Yeah…I’ve only been off-ship a couple of times, but it’s unbelievable how hostile people are. And it sucks because they’re completely right to be wary.”
“I hate to say it, but even Camiens have that attitude. A lot of why I came along was to look into whether there’s merit to that attitude.”
“Well, it’s been a while for you now, right? What do you think?”
“I think…it’s reasonable. I’m sorry, but it really bothers me how unbothered you all are by death. On Caminus, dying is a big deal, and it happens very rarely. Funerary rites go on for days to weeks, depending on the sect of the departed, but it’s more for the living than anyone else. We take our time to process it all. But you all…” She hesitated. As she continued, her voice cracked. “It’s like a drop in the water to you. You just move on. Sometimes you don’t ever mention it again. It makes it difficult to reconcile the idea that you’re supposedly the faction that values life. I understand perfectly well why you all act like that, but still, it offends my sensibilities!”
“Mine too.”
Nautica met his eyes for the first time since they left Krok. “At least you’ve managed to retain some sensitivity. I wish I could take you to Caminus to see the rites first-hand, maybe it’d reawaken more of it in you.”
“You wish? If you wanna show me, I’ll go!”
“No, that’s—“ Nautica began, but she was interrupted by Siren’s sudden understanding.
“Oh. Did something…happen…to Caminus?”
“Yes. Unicron happened.”
“Primus! How’d I miss that?!”
“You were unconscious, and then you decided to ram into this without preparation…I do appreciate that, though. I take it no one told you Cybertron is gone too? At least, your Cybertron is. It’s been replaced with one from the Functionist Universe…Which is a universe with a very similar background to this one that ended up taking a different path so that Functionismwent on much longer.”
“It’s gone?! Did anyone die?”
“Yes…they haven’t figured out who, exactly, but I’m sure that will all be available soon.” Her hand found its way to his far shoulder. “I don’t think anyone has the capacity to truly process something of that magnitude. It sounds fantastical. In my mind, it still feels like I can head right back home and it will still be there, even though I know that’s not true.”
“No kidding…”
“That was my one respite on this trip—if things didn’t work out, I could always move back home, even if there was never really a place for me there. So much for that…but at least I found somewhere I fit in marginally better. You know, all that digging into your cultural backlog I did—and new releases, like Crosscut’s play—I think I was trying to prepare for something like this. I don’t think it was a total waste, and I don’t mean to degrade any of your artistry, but I don’t think it’s something that can really be captured or ever be fully received. I thought if I studied enough I could understand, but it’s just too much.”
“I get that.”
She exhaled, her hand still lingering on him. “That’s cosmic-scaled loss, though. Losing an individual is never easy, but I’m sure I can wrap my head around it in time. We—“ She choked up at the thought but pushed through. “We lost Skids, against the DJD. Thank the Primes the rest of us survived, but none of us—we couldn’t take it. We took mood suppressants. I’m so ashamed. I should have done something, Velocity and I both, but neither of us knew how to fit it into all the chaos we’re so unaccustomed to.”
It hurt to hear. Siren put a reassuring hand between her water wings.
She inched closer, her grip tightened. “The suppressants weren’t enough. We stopped by Troja Major, in a howling town. I sold off my feelings on the matter. He’s a stranger to me now. That’s what I’m upset about, that I don’t even have them anymore. I was lucky to be able to feel when everyone around me had lost that ability to a degree.”
He knew exactly what she meant. Skids wasn’t a stranger to him—they’d exchanged a few words at Swerve’s before—but hearing if his passing wasn’t exactly impactful. And at least he’d be prepared, knowing that Nightbeat had lost a friend when he saw him next.
“But it’s only Skids I’ve forgotten. There’s still some hope—it feels strange to call it that, though. Some others—we…” She stared into his visor, she bit her lip like she was trying to hold back what she was about to say, but it had to come out. “…Nightbeat…died.”
“…Again?”
“Yes, he—we—“ Nautica had to force the words out of herself. “We really lost him.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wish I could be uncertain.”
Siren crossed his arms in contemplation. Nautica folded her hands into her lap.
“Really, I’m so sorry,” She instinctively tried to reestablish contact but halted herself. “That should have been the first thing I mentioned, but I—I—you looked so jubilant, and…oh, this is all my fault.”
“No, no, no!” Siren insisted, waving his hands incessantly. “It’s—you—things like this aren’t easy. They shouldn’t be. So…He’s really gone? How?”
“Spark extraction. I’m so sorry, Siren.”
“Don’t.” Siren shook his head, adjusting his posture from a deep slump to something more upright. “It’s not your fault, right?”
She winced.
“Right?”
“I don’t know!” Nautica cried, guilt dripping from her tone.
Siren frowned. “Well, what happened?”
Nautica shook her head, lost. “‘Cyberutopia’ turned out to be a euthanasia program that utilized deceptively real holography. It showed you what you wanted most with the intent that you would die happy.”
“Yeah, no…” Siren shook his head, staring blankly ahead. “He would’ve hated that. Dying being lied to.”
Nautica clamped her palm over her mouth as her eyes welled. “I know!”
Siren gave her a tight embrace. Her response was so vivid, he felt guilty for being able to keep his composure. What hurt the most wasn’t Nightbeat’s absence, but that he felt less than expected. He knew how much he cared and the dissonance between that and what he was experiencing was immense.
Nautica managed to gather herself enough to continue. “He said he wanted to check something out, and I just let him go, and like that, he was gone. I thought it was safe.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I could have! I did figure it out, just…too late.”
At least, unlike with Springer, it was an accident. He couldn’t find it in him to blame her. “You can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try. Believe me—I know.”
“I understand that. It’s just…he had been through so much, he was fighting for his life in ways I barely managed to scratch the surface of…and he lost. He deserved so much more.”
Siren wished he knew what to say to her, but he didn’t. He stood up. “I’m sorry, Nautica. I want to help you, but—I can’t! Not yet. Not right now. I need a break. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. I just wanted your perspective, and if no one broke that news to you, I figured I’d be an alright one for the job…don’t worry about me.”
“You’ll be okay?”
Nautica looked to the distance. “I’ll manage.”
“If you need me, I’ll be in the morgue.”
“Oh, he’s not—we didn’t recover his body.”
Siren groaned inadvertently—a minute alone with a corpse usually gave him what little closure he could ask for. He’d have to improvise. Nautica got up and held him tight for as long as he—and she—both needed. Even if it was mostly his own fault since his mind moved so fast, he didn’t get too many thorough goodbyes—he had even ended the last time he ever saw Nightbeat abruptly—and he had never appreciated one more than in that moment, even if it was just for an intermission.
He made the long, somber walk to Nightbeat’s habsuite. Once there, he took to the locks, mentally reciting the wordy Neoprimal prayer to Mortilus that corresponded to the combination Nightbeat had set. He recalled how Nightbeat had first explained it: as an obscure dedication for a less favorable god, it kept the place secure from anyone not devout and/or nerdy enough to care to remember that it existed, much less how it went. Now, as the door shuttered open, it seemed all too appropriate a choice, and Siren hated that.
He looked around. In the hurry to board the shuttle, Nightbeat had left his room in imperfect order, giving the illusion that he was still with them, as if he was going to come back and tidy it later, but that was impossible.
Siren’s guts churned at the thought of Nightbeat’s now-final perception of him being what had happened on the brig. Never mind that there were far more pleasant memories to act as a counterweight, or how very likely it was that Nightbeat hadn’t been anywhere near as displeased as Siren was imagining. Siren had been regretting that since the moment it happened. What they had was so precious, he betrayed both of them by soiling it like that, and now that Nightbeat was gone, the damage could never be mitigated.
Before Nightbeat, he had felt lost, but setting his sights set so fervently on someone gave him a sense of time and place. They had fostered so much turbulence between them, for it to come to such an abrupt end was disorienting, so now, he felt positively aimless. Was it unfair to one or both of them that he had made Nightbeat into such a lodestar? Nightbeat would have had a great answer to that, he was sure, but Siren couldn’t fathom what it would be.
No one ever had or ever would accept him in quite the way that Nightbeat had. Thanks to their commonalities it never once came across as pity. He was never too hard or too soft on him. Siren’s mind flooded with static. All the reasoning he had been laboring at fell apart from the weight of the pain. He was only able to think about how much he had loved him.
The setting became too much to bear, so he left. He needed Hosehead. Maybe seeing that new life his aquarium harbored would help.
Outside was Nautica with a respectful buffer between where she stood and the door. Siren looked at her inquisitively—was she distraught enough to need to return to their conversation so soon? He tried—with great effort—a light greeting to see how she responded. “You found me!”
She smiled. It was a relief that she was in a marginally better mood. “Listen, I don’t want you thinking everything is doom and gloom. Anode is taking Brainstorm and I to go see the sparkfield on Luna 1. Would you like to come with?”
Siren perked up at the offer. Luna 1: All things too all bots. Every problem solved, every question answered, every wish granted.
They all now knew the truth of that moon, but damn if that notion of guaranteed clarity wasn't calling out to him. There was guaranteed sightseeing, at the very least. Fish were fine, but it was much rarer for Cybertronian life to spring up. He supposed confiding in Hosehead wasn’t time-sensitive, and the trip might give him the much-needed perspective he was looking for. “Yeah, absolutely! I’ve never actually seen a hotspot!”
Waiting for them in the otherwise empty shuttle bay were Brainstorm and two new faces.
“You must be Siren.” The taller of the two said. “Anode,” she gestured to herself, but reached for Siren’s hand as soon as he initiated a shake.
“And I’m Lug.” The shorter of the two preemptively offered her own hand.
“My wife, so don’t go getting any ideas.”
Siren laughed. “That won’t be—“
Anode shot him a fierce glare. “What, she’s not good enough for you or somethin’?”
“No! It’s just, uh…” Siren shielded his mouth from the others despite the fact that they could still hear his lowered voice. “I like cars.”
(Plus his head was too preoccupied with grief to look at anyone that way—not that either of them needed to know that.)
“Okay, good excuse, you can live. I’ll even let you onboard. You’re welcome!” She said, walking up the loading ramp of the Leading Light.
Siren hadn’t stopped to think about how they would be getting all the way to the moon, but he suddenly remembered the catastrophic last time he had tried to board a shuttle. Usually, he would be bothered by everyone taking too long to get situated, but now, he was thankful they had nothing to worry about.
After departing planets became a routine thing, the magic of the view had worn off for Siren early into the war, but his awe was reignited now. Functionist Cybertron looked healthier than the old one, even after it had reformatted itself. Pieces of landscape and impressively sized architecture that were before his time stood proud alongside newer structures that had never had the chance to be developed in their war-stricken world. He, Brainstorm, and Nautica were content to stare out the windows in silence for the entire trip. The cockpit, however, was the source of many angry, joking whispers and muted laughs as Anode and Lug tried and failed to not let their passengers overhear their numerous inside jokes. Arms crossed, Siren hoped that the others didn’t notice the death-crushing grip he had on himself thanks to the all-consuming jealousy he felt over such simple interactions.
The distant sun shone on the moon, but even it was outshined by the intense green of the sparks that covered its surface. The lack of atmosphere forced the rows upon rows of sparks to compete with the cold of outer space, but even with that factor, it was almost uncomfortably warm.
“This is a massive yield, and they seem unusually healthy, too,” Anode said in a way somewhere between acting as a tour guide and muttering to herself, pacing in the rows between the newborn sparks nestled into the ground. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they stayed lit for decades.”
Siren watched the subtle, unsynchronized pulsating of the sparks. He felt compelled to give each of them at least a moment of his undivided attention—which was proving to be more difficult than expected, as he couldn’t help but also listen in on Anode and Nautica’s exceedingly technical conversation. He understood when they would occasionally prompt Lug to weigh in or tell Brainstorm to stop touching things, but he realized that their discussion was one of the many Nautica partook in that had a certain barrier to entry, so he decided he was better off just taking in the sights.
The ride over had really cleared his head. Now that he’d given it an hour or two, he could fully accept that Nightbeat was gone. He wasn’t by any means over it, and it still felt karmically unfair, but he supposed he should be grateful that he’d arrived at the closure he craved, even if how quickly he had gotten to it didn’t feel right.
He squatted down to get a better view and scanned the scene—though there was some variation in the sparks’ size, color, and placement in the ground, it looked entrancingly repetitive, stretching across the surface of the celestial body in every direction.
A glimmer on the horizon caught Siren’s eye. He darted over to investigate. In one of the spark-cradling wells, lodged underneath a spark was some sort of disc that had taken an intricate and complicated form. He stared, then gingerly extracted it, careful not to disturb the newborn it was wedged under. He turned it over in his hand—it may have looked terrifyingly delicate, but holding it made its fortitude apparent.
He trotted to rejoin the group and held out the specimen. “Hey, look at this! What is it?”
Anode’s face lit up, first with the same awe he just had, followed by rage. “Where did you find that?! Give it to me!”
Siren handed it over without question. “What is it?”
“It’s sentio metallico.” She said as she pivoted her wrist to view it from all angles. “When a spark burns out prematurely, its body-to-be turns into this. Where did you find it?”
Siren led the party to the scene. Anode got on all fours for the best possible view of where it had come from.
“I’m surprised you spotted it with that other spark still in there—usually, there’s an empty pit, so it’s pretty obvious. Must’ve been a twin, and the runtier of the two.” Anode rose to full height and shook her head. “Oh well. I guess even if this litter’s stronger on average, they can’t all be winners. And it’s not like it was for nothing—these are invaluable. It’s thanks to one of them that I managed to revive Lug here, actually.”
Nautica and Siren instantly locked eyes, each knowing the other was thinking the same thing. Just because Siren was able to accept losing Nightbeat didn’t mean he was going to sit back and do nothing when an opportunity to bring him back appeared!
Anode was lost for a moment before she, too, worked out what they were thinking. “No. No way. I’m not doing that, and I’m not letting any of you take a stab at it, either!”
“You don’t even know who it is that we’re thinking of!” Nautica said.
“Don’t care! Doesn’t matter! Unless you have some piece of their spark, it’s not possible.”
“Not the mention the money.” Brainstorm chimed in, sarcastic.
“Not to mention the money!” Anode agreed, genuine. “It costs a lot to settle down, you know!” She put her hand around Lug’s neck and pulled her closer.
“Anode, I’m begging you…” Nautica said softly. “You know exactly how it feels to lose someone so dear to you.”
“Yeah!” Siren agreed before realizing he had no idea what he was agreeing to. It just felt unfair that she was denying him Nightbeat, whatever the reason.
“But you don’t have the bits!” Anode gestured to her chest. “It can’t be done.”
“What bits, exactly?” Brainstorm asked.
“Uh, Stormy?” Nautica said with hesitation. “What are you getting at?”
“…Don’t be mad.”
She folded her arms, her posture alone demanding an explanation.
“You’ll recall when we were trying to barricade ourselves inside the Mederi center and I said I’d go look for extra tables—First, let me remind you that I did deliver on that. But really, I went looking for where it took the sparks once they’d been extracted. We were both Dead Universe-curious, so I sort of…” he rolled his wrist flippantly. “Nicked his spark for research purposes.”
“You robbed a corpse !” Nautica exclaimed with utter shock. “And not just any corpse! And you didn’t tell me!
“Because I knew you’d get like this!” Brainstorm gestured. “Is it really that big a deal? It was for the sake of science! It’s what he would have wanted.”
“I have videographic proof that it isn’t! He wanted a Neoprimal funeral!”
“Now you care what the dead wanted? I don’t recall Skids asking you to take his brain and shove it in your eye socket…I haven’t properly scolded you for that, actually. I’m not really sure how to scold someone other than Chromedome.”
“Stop talking!” Siren interrupted. “Fight later! All that matters is that we have everything we need to bring him back, right?”
“We’ll see about that.” Anode held out an expectant hand so that she could confirm or deny. Brainstorm’s torso cracked open and he fished what was left of Nightbeat out of the conveniently spark-shaped chamber where he had once incubated what became Megatron. It was just the casing and the photonic crystal rattling inside of it—there was no bright, burning light to speak of.
Everyone but Lug looked intently at it, Siren noticed. She must have felt that she should look away for the sake of modesty—and he happened to agree. He never got a very good glimpse of it.
Anode cupped her hands around it to shield it from the other light sources and held it up to her eye. Siren looked back up now that it was hidden from sight but noticed an incredibly faint and faltering glow projected against Anode’s armor. “Yep, that might work.”
Siren yelped in celebration and Nautica gave him a tight embrace, purely on instinct.
“Don’t get too excited,” Anode said as she started to walk back to the shuttle. “Birthing isn’t an easy process even when you aren’t working from scraps. A lot could go wrong.”
“But a lot could go right!” Siren retorted, following right behind her.
“And you—” She stopped, holding out her arm to push him away. “What are you doing? You’re not coming with.”
“I’m not?”
“What can you contribute? I’m the blacksmith, Brainstorm is the one who knows about that Dead Universe whatever, Nautica is moral support for him and the dead guy.”
“I’m—well, I’m moral support too…?”
“No. You don’t understand how stressful this operation is. The fewer people in the room, the better.”
“Well, I live there, so can I at least get a ride home?”
“Nope.”
“Anode!” Nautica chided.
“Eagle eyes here is gonna scout this moon for more snowflakes! I don’t work for free.”
Siren didn’t protest. Anode, Lug, and Brainstorm all loaded, but Nautica still felt like there was a bit of unfinished business. “Will you be okay here on your own?”
He’d rather not be left all alone, but a glimpse of Anode’s stern expression behind the cockpit glass confirmed to him that this was just something he had to do. “Yeah! Sure!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that last time I left someone to their own devices, th—”
“Don’t worry about it!” He put his arms on her shoulders as if he were keeping her from falling apart. “This is Luna 1!”
“And that means…?”
“Well, Red Alert—“ He paused, realizing she might not know who that was. “He’s the most pain-in-the-ass safety-conscious person in the entire world and he lived here for months! And sure, it’s practically on fire now, but it’s my job to know how to weather that! This isn’t Mederi.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re right. I’ll be seeing you.”
She boarded and he took a few hundred steps back to give them space to launch, waving until he was sure they couldn’t see him anymore.
A while after departing Nautica started sending him updates: they had made it back, Brainstorm was setting up his workshop per Anode’s direction, and so on. He didn’t know whether to worry or not when she suddenly went silent. Were they simply busy with the operation, or had something bad happened? Was Nautica the type to tell him if something had? He had to keep reminding himself that he had already accustomed himself to the idea of never seeing Nightbeat again, and that the possibility of defying that fate was nothing short of a miracle, even if it had a perfectly practical explanation. It took constant effort to temper his expectations.
He eventually realized he wasn’t even sure how long this procedure was supposed to last. How long would he be stranded up there? It was beginning to feel like days.
Every once in a while something would catch his eye, but it always turned out to be a trick of the light as opposed to another snowflake. His search spanned miles and miles. He watched the planet below slowly cycle over. He hadn’t been awake so long in ages—he needed a break. He laid down in a small clearing, framed by sparks on all sides, and drifted off until his communicator ringing jolted him awake. He felt his entire body tense up when he saw that it was Nautica who was trying to reach him.
“I have good news and bad news.” She said.
“Bad news first!”
“Okay. The bad news is that I left you stranded on a moon for two days.”
“That’s not news.”
Nautica gasped. “Don’t be a pedant. You’re ruining my presentation!” She grumbled and reset herself. “The good news is that I only did so because my hands were full taking care of the little one. Well, not so little anymore, but…”
Siren shot upright and screeched with joy. “Are you serious?! It worked?!”
“Send me your coordinates and you can see for yourself!” ✧