Work Text:
There were many things that Stelle could have done that night. Not fleeing from the scene of a murder might have been a good choice, for instance. She had no idea if the Family could surveil them in the Dreamscape, but Aventurine had too much leverage on her already to let him spin that story however he wanted.
Instead, she all but ran away. After a quick break to lose her lunch in the middle of the hallway, she hobbled as fast as her burnt and bruised dream body could carry her to the nearest exit point. She woke gasping and shaking, the phantom pain of her battles threatening to force her right back under before fading away as she stared up at the ceiling of her room.
At that point, she again had options. She could have contacted the rest of the Express, and warned them about the new development. Failing to let them know would waste a critical opportunity to take the initiative, and get ahead of whatever other parties might be doing.
However, there was only one thing on her mind. She dragged herself out of the Dreampool, dripping liquid all over the carpet as she grabbed for her phone. She opened her message app, and her fingers froze, hovering over it — she had never actually exchanged contacts with the woman she needed to speak to. Maybe one of the others had contacted her, and Stelle could connect through them, or…
As if she could read Stelle’s mind (and perhaps she could), her phone pinged with a message notification in her hands.
Black Swan:
Stelle?
I felt you exit the Dreamscape
How did things go with Aventurine?
Of course that was what she wanted to know about. And that was what Stelle should be focusing on, she knew. Instead, her fingers moved almost without her thinking, and she replied:
Stelle:
I want to see her body
It was a shot in the dark. If there was any chance that she could find her, any chance that she wouldn’t just disappear from her life without a trace, it would be through the Memokeepers.
Black Swan:
…I understand.
Based on what I know of her, it should be possible for me to piece together her location.
Stelle:
How fast can you do that
Black Swan:
Right away, if that is what you need.
Please meet me in the hotel lobby, by the time you arrive I will know where to go
Stelle:
Okay
She stared down at her phone screen for a moment more, rooted to the spot. Black Swan could do it. She could find her — and that meant that Stelle would need to face her. She tore herself away, stowing her phone and heading out of the room.
Revisiting the hotel lobby was hard, but it wasn’t as bad as Stelle had been dreading. Brightly lit and filled in equal parts with starry-eyed new guests and disgruntled customers waiting for the staff to address their complaints, it was far from the nightmare it had been within the dream. She spotted Black Swan easily enough — the Memokeeper stood out in a crowd, all the more so by how everyone else in the room seemed to be completely ignoring her.
“Hello again, Stelle,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
“Uh, hi,” Stelle replied. She wasn’t sure what was so good about seeing her.
Black Swan smiled. “It may not seem impressive, but I am glad to see you up and moving. Not everyone in your position could take initiative this way. Now, follow me,” she gestured with her hand, turning away. “I have determined where we need to go.”
Stelle trailed after her, across the lobby and towards one of the many passages branching off of it. She noticed, and appreciated, the way that Black Swan led them in a wide berth around the place where Firefly had fallen.
The sound of guests and activity faded as they left the lobby. The hotel’s carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps, two ghosts drifting through its endless hallways. Not once did they pass another person — perhaps some trick of Black Swan’s guaranteed their privacy. They walked and walked, travelling what felt like miles from the hotel lobby. Gradually, the identical hallways began to change, just a little. Things lost their lustre, the fixtures on walls growing dusty and the carpets dull and trodden down.
“Not all of the hotel is in active use,” said Black Swan. Her voice was barely a whisper, like they were speaking in a library, or a crypt. “There are fluctuations based on available staff, but in general Penacony is simply too vast to be maintained at full occupany. Many of the disused blocks still have functioning Dreampools, allowing unauthorized guests access to the dream from places where it is harder for the Bloodhounds to track them down.”
“So that’s how Firefly managed it?”
“Indeed. The Bloodhounds found her scent within the Dreamscape, but I do not believe they ever determined where in the hotel she was staying. This area is one of the oldest and most remote that is still functional, which she surmised would make it beyond the Family’s reach. She considered somewhere closer to the hotel’s centre, where she might be able to access some of the utilities meant for paying guests, but thought that it was too great a risk. Based on what I know of the Family’s security, I am inclined to agree.”
Stelle tried to make an affirmative mhmm, but it came out as more of a grunt. She stared at the floor, chastising herself. It wasn’t Black Swan’s fault. When she spoke from Firefly’s memories, when she talked so surely about what she thought and what she felt, that was just a Memokeeper’s way of seeing the world.
It was a good thing, even. There was no other way that Stelle would have ever found her. Not without Black Swan having collected her memoria, and held all that was left of Firefly in her hands. Not without Black Swan knowing her more deeply than Stelle would ever get the chance to.
The conversation died there, and they continued in silence.
Minutes later, they at last turned a corner to a shorter corridor lined with guest rooms. “Here,” Black Swan said, gesturing to one near the middle of the hall. She moved towards it.
Stelle stopped, one step behind, and put her hand on Black Swan’s shoulder. “Before we go in…” she said, low and cold, “I want to know what you did to me.”
The scene was etched into Stelle’s memory. Firefly’s face… relief, then shock. Horror. Pain. The weight of the girl in her arms vanishing, and the feeling of the syrupy remains of her dream self slowly evaporating. Stelle could see it all in perfect clarity, whether she wanted to or not — right up until Black Swan had instructed her, relax.
From that point forward her memories were viewed through frosted glass, indistinct shapes and feelings that had seemed real in the moment, but became hazier and hazier the more she tried to focus on them. The Memokeeper had changed something in her mind, she was certain of that.
Her grip was hard, even more than she intended, but Black Swan didn’t flinch. “I simply absorbed your emotions temporarily, so that you could act.”
Stelle grit her teeth. “You—”
Black Swan turned to look at her, slipping from Stelle’s hand like smoke. “Allow me to be clear. I am a Memokeeper, and the collection of experiences is both my duty and my life. However, to me, a memory has value only when it is whole and unblemished, and is its sweetest when shared freely. At that time, I did what I felt necessary to protect your life. That danger has passed, and so I shall do no more. Your mind and your will are your own, Stelle — I will not steal your grief from you.”
Stelle’s hand clenched closed on empty space, and she let it drop to her side. That was as much as she could hope for, she supposed. “…Alright.”
Black Swan, seemingly unperturbed, strode the last few steps to the door, turning the handle. “After you,” she said, standing to the side to let Stelle past.
Her eyes stayed glued to the carpet as she stepped inside. Despite her best efforts to prepare herself, being in the room was suffocating. Stelle wasn’t ready for what she was about to see. As Black Swan drifted in after her, she closed the door behind them — no going back now.
Cautiously, taking care not to gaze too closely at the far end of the room, she looked around.
The room was unmistakably inhabited, but at the same time did not feel lived in. The layer of dust coating this part of the hotel was undisturbed, save for a track carved between the Dreampool, the table and the bathroom. On the table sat assorted packaged foods, with a handful of wrappers scattered on the floor. The cupboards and shelves, the couch, and the television all seemed untouched.
“…How long was she here for?” Stelle asked. “Did she change rooms a lot?”
Black Swan made a hmm sound, a look on her face like she was trying to recall some distant memory. Stelle supposed she was. “She did when she first arrived at Penacony,” Black Swan answered eventually, “but less often as she gained a better understanding of the Family’s network. She had been in this room for fifteen days, with no immediate plans to leave.”
Stelle did a quick tally of how many food packages had been opened in that time, and she did not like the answer.
The only other sign of life in the room was a simple backpack, lying unzipped on the floor. Inside, Stelle saw a cell phone. She took a step towards it, and then stopped herself. When it came down to it, she had known Firefly for only a day. Was it really her place to rifle through her things? She glanced back at Black Swan, still waiting by the door. Her expression was gentle but impassive, seemingly uninterested in influencing Stelle’s decisions. Stelle turned back to the phone.
…She would just check. It was a vague, silly hope that she had, but she wanted to know for sure. She knelt down and grabbed the phone.
Built into the Dreamscape was the ability to sync your physical data with the dream, so long as you were connected to Penacony’s network. A boon for businesspeople and lovers making connections, but a big risk for somebody trying to fly under the radar. Likely, Firefly has left her phone unconnected so as to not chance giving away her location.
Stelle pressed the power button. As expected, the screen remained blank — the phone was off. She went to put it down again when the device buzzed, held just long enough to power on. A manufacturer Stelle had never heard of flashed across the screen, and then for a second it was blank again. Finally, the phone lit up once more, and Stelle stared down at it.
The Stelle on the lock screen stared back.
She had taken the chance. Firefly had connected to the network to download the photo, to hang on to the memory of that day in reality. Stelle felt her throat tighten. Had that moment been as important to Firefly as it was to her? She would never know, but…
She stuck the phone in a pocket of her jacket. She didn’t know what she was going to do with it, but she would figure it out later. If nothing else, the Family would find this room eventually, and the device’s contents were none of their business.
She stood. There was nothing noteworthy remaining in the room — ready or not, it was time to see what she had come here to see. Stelle turned, looking at last towards the Dreampool at the far end of the room.
There she was.
Firefly’s body lay on her back in the pool, her hair fanning out in the water. It wasn’t gruesome, or even violent. There was no evidence of what had transpired in the dream. At a glance it looked a lot like she was simply sleeping, until you noticed how still she was, the way her chest no longer rose and fell with her breathing.
Lit from beneath by the blue light of the Dreampool, she seemed pale and tired. Drained of colour. Firefly belonged amid the glow of city streets and starlight, cheeks flushed with laughter and the chill breeze whistling over the rooftops. This wasn’t how she was supposed to be.
Stelle knelt down by the Dreampool, reaching out to lift Firefly’s hand out of the water. Feeling her slim fingers in her palm, Stelle imagined the sensation of Firefly grasping her back. Maybe in another life they would have had the chance, and walked hand-in-hand through the streets of Golden Hour. Not Anymore.
“This is… real. This is real,” Stelle muttered to herself. It was a stupid observation. What was she expecting, for Firefly to leap out and yell ‘surprise!’ like it had all been some elaborate prank? She had known all along, never hoped for better, and yet sitting there, holding Firefly’s cold hand between her own, something that still lived within her broke.
Once the tears started, she had no idea how long she stayed there, sobbing until her throat was raw and her chest ached. It felt like it had been her whole life, and like it would never be enough. She cried until her eyes were dry and then kept going, hiccuping and whimpering as she stat sprawled on the floor of the hotel room.
Eventually, she couldn’t keep going. Shaking and gasping for air, her crying slowly stuttered to a halt. She looked up at Firefly once more, still and unresponsive, and then across the room at Black Swan.
“I thought this wasn’t supposed to happen,” she rasped. “I thought you were supposed to just wake up.”
“Ordinarily, that is the case…” said Black Swan, “but the Dreamscape is shaped by the minds and emotions of its dreamers, all the more so in places outside of the Family’s control. That thing which you encountered, it was death. A deep and primal fear, coalesced into that form and allowed to fester in the depths of the dream… such a thing can affect people in ways that nothing would normally be able to.”
Stelle closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she steeled herself for her next question.
“What was it like for her?”
She had seen people get hurt in the Dreamscape. It had never seemed like a big deal — like nothing really hurt, like it didn’t quite feel real. That had been in the Family’s domain, where none of those people were in danger, but…
Black Swan was silent for a long moment. “Firefly was immersed fully in the Dreamscape. What she experienced was what you saw.” The blade-like arm punching through her chest. The pain on her face, as she used the last breath she would ever take to apologize. Stelle felt bile rising in her throat.
“Physically,” Black Swan continued, “the shock would have caused her to lose consciousness immediately as she was ejected into reality, and resulted in her heart stopping. There was no further suffering.
No further suffering, right. Stelle snorted. It wasn’t funny.
A short time passed in silence as Stelle tried to calm herself. After a while, she spoke.
“I don’t want to leave her here.”
Firefly deserved better than to be left to rot in an abandoned hotel room. She most certainly deserved better than to be discovered by the Family and disposed of like she was trash. Black Swan seemed to have expected as much, and nodded.
“It is within my ability to keep unwanted attention away from you. Will you be bringing her to the Astral Express?”
“…Yeah. Uh, I guess I should message the others about it first.”
“I will take care of that, do not concern yourself. I did not say any details that I felt it was not my place to give, but when I met them in the dream I did inform them in broad strokes what had happened. They will understand.”
Stelle nodded. “Okay.”
While Black Swan contacted the Express, Stelle stepped into the pool and knelt down next to Firefly, gently sliding her arms underneath the body. The sedatives in the water numbed her where it touched her skin, but she held on tight and carefully lifted Firefly out of the Dreampool.
She was too light. Even with her clothes drenched in the dream fluid she couldn’t have been half Stelle’s weight, and her bones jutted out under her skin, sharp against Stelle’s chest.
“…She didn’t look this bad, in there.” Firefly had been a slight girl, certainly, with sickness hovering at the edges of her features. Not like this, though.
Black Swan, finished contacting the Express, looked over at them. “Appearances are malleable in the Dreamscape, though most people haven’t the skill to change themselves consciously. She likely appeared the way she saw herself — perhaps she never spent long enough awake for her perception of her body to change.”
Slowly starving as she lived her life entirely within a dream.
Black Swan once more opened the door for her. Stelle carried Firefly across the room, the wrapper of a cheap nutrition bar crunching beneath her foot, and followed her out into the hall.
The silence of their return felt different from before. The tension of approaching an unpleasant truth was gone, in its place a sorrowful, hollow feeling that neither of them dared disrupt even with a whisper. Black Swan seemed to melt into the shadows, leaving Stelle to her own solitary funeral procession.
It didn’t take long for Stelle’s arms to begin to ache, but she kept moving. She kept her breathing shallow, so much that it mader her feel lightheaded. Underneath the slightly antiseptic smell of the Dreampool, the body in her arms, too fresh to have given way to rot, still smelt like her. She felt like she would choke on it.
After a while, they were no longer alone. It would cause far too obvious a disruption for Black Swan to steer people away from the main portion of the hotel, which the Family would easily connect to the Memokeepers. One, then a few, then dozens of people, shuffling and chattering like everything was normal. Their eyes passed over Stelle as if she wasn’t there at all.
It made her want to yell. It made her want to demand their attention, their respect. It made her want to force them all to acknowledge what their dream had done, to see their stowaway and know that she was real. That she had lived. That she had mattered.
Instead, she lowered her head and kept moving, clutching Firefly in an embrace that she could not return.
They passed through the hotel entrace and out onto the spaceport, itself a vast structure where countless starships sat docked. As invited VIPs, the Express had its own private space close to the hotel, saving them from further walking.
Welt stood by the door of the train, watching them approach. He wore the same expression that he had looking over the carnage at the Alchemy Commission of the Xianzhou Luofu — the tired look of someone far too used to tragedy, but refusing to be unmoved by it. “Stelle…” he said softly, when they were near enough, “I’m sorry.”
“…Yeah,” said Stelle. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“The others are inside. We can discuss things there.” He took the latch of the door and slid it open, standing aside to let Stelle through. “And, um, Miss Black Swan, will you be…?”
Black Swan shook her head. “My role concludes here. You may contact me later if there is anything else you need. And, Stelle? My deepest condolences, genuinely. I wish that I had been able to do more.”
I wish that you had been able to do more too, Stelle thought, but she knew it was a cruel thing to say. She nodded. “Thanks.”
Stelle stepped inside and entered the parlour car. As Welt had said, the others were waiting there for her. Dan Heng inclined his head respectfully when he saw her. March 7th stared, her eyes wide, and Himeko none-too-subtly nudged her in the side to redirect her attention.
They had set up a table in the centre of the car, covered in a soft sheet that looked like it may have come from Himeko’s room. Slowly and carefully, Stelle laid Firefly down on the table and adjusted her arms to rest upon her chest, and then stepped back. She spotted Pom-Pom out of the corner of her eye, standing nervously off to the side. She wasn’t sure if the conductor was capable of crying, but they seemed to be giving it their best attempt.
March was the first person to speak. “S-So this is who you were talking about yesterday? Firefly.” Her voice was quivering.
Stelle took a deep breath. “She is. This… isn’t how I wanted you to meet her.”
March looked at Firefly, her hand held halfway up like she wanted to reach out to her. “I was looking forward to it. You seemed so happy, and it made me want to meet her too, and… I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair.”
She was right. It wasn’t fair. Stelle wanted to be furious at the injustice of it all, but instead it just felt like all the air had been pulled from her lungs. “…I don’t know where to go from here,” she admitted, her eyes on the ground and her voice barely a whisper.
“We have time,” said Welt from behind her, placing a hand gently on her back. “You brought her here, where nobody else can interfere. That’s enough for right this minute.”
At Welt’s gentle urging, Stelle found herself seating on one of the couches in the parlour car. Himeko approached her with a subdued expression.
“You look exhausted, hun,” she said. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. Stelle stared at her. “…I know you kids have different tastes than I do, so I made it according to March’s directions this time.”
Stelle shrugged. “Coffee sounds fine.”
Himeko made a quick trip to the kitchen, returning with a steaming mug. Stelle took it from her with a nod and drank. As the bitter liquid coated her tongue, she got the distinct impression that Himeko has still taken some liberties with March 7th’s instructions. It helped, though, and she drained most of the cup with only a slight grimace.
She swirled the remains of the coffee around in her cup, staring down at it. “Hey, Himeko?” she asked.
“Yes, Stelle?”
“What… what do we do, when one of us dies?”
She had never thought about it before. Already in their journeys there had been some close calls, but each time they had all pulled through. It had felt a little like they always would, like through adventurous spirit and sheer tenacity they could overcome any danger.
She wasn’t so sure of that, now.
Himeko considered for a moment. “In my time on the Express, it hasn’t happened. Among the Nameless of the past, there was no one ceremony — often, they would perform whatever rites were common on the homeworld of the deceased.”
“Firefly’s world was destroyed,” said Stelle. “She was a refugee from a young age. If she remembered it at all, she never told me about it.”
March 7th had no homeworld either, come to think of it, nor did Stelle herself. Dan Heng was no longer exiled from the Xianzhou Luofu, but she wasn’t sure how much he considered it his home after everything that had happened to him.
Himeko nodded. “There are many followers of the Trailblaze whose homeworlds are unknown, or who have no wish to be remembered by them. For those people, there is something of a tradition: we chart a course for them.”
“Chart a course… like, through space?”
“It is not totally dissimilar to the ceremony you partook in on the Xianzhou Luofu, as we too live a life travelling across the stars. But where the Xianzhou fleet sails ever forward like an arrow through the universe, our calling is connection and discovery. We send them as close as possible to auspicious and meaningful locations in the known galaxy, allowing them to pass by one last time before blazing a new trail through distant stars.”
Stelle swirled the dregs of her coffee around, looking down into them. “She looked up to the Nameless. Firefly did. I never asked if she wanted to become one of us — she… had a condition that she was dealing with. But if there had ever been a chance, I would have liked to invite her aboard.”
Himeko gave a small, sad smile. “If she has your endorsement, Stelle, I have no doubt that she would have been an excellent Trailblazer. If you would like to honour her as one of us, I would be more than willing to assist you.”
“I think I would like that.”
“Very well. Dan Heng?” said Himeko, looking over at him. “We will need to use the data bank, if that’s alright.”
“More than alright,” he replied. “I will assist you.”
In the data bank, Himeko booted up a program on the main terminal, and the three of them got to work. Starting from Penacony, they began selecting interstellar landmarks for the journey — skirting along the fringes of civilization so as to not be intercepted by a well-meaning starship, it would many of the beautiful and wondrous places that Akivili had once walked.
Not all of them were as the Aeon had seen them. It would pass by a star gone supernova, witnessing the forming nebula. Planets once inhabited by thriving civilizations, their continent-spanning megacities now home to only ghosts. They would show Firefly the universe, magnificent and melancholy alike. Little by little, they carved the path of the Trailblaze in miniature.
Stelle didn’t want to admit it, but the process was, more than anything, tedious. She was no navigator, and while Himeko was brilliant, these calculations were beyond what any human could perform. All they could do was lay the framework for each step of the journey and then wait, the Express’ computer running hot for minutes at a time as it simulated the locations of countless celestial objects, far into the future.
It did not take long for the data bank to become quite warm. Stelle watched beads of sweat roll down Dan Heng’s face as he looked through the primary terminal, helping to narrow down their selections.
“You could let us take it from here, you know,” she said. “Me and Himeko could handle it.”
“I should be saying that to you,” said Dan Heng. “You’ve been through quite enough today already.”
“This is important to me. I’ve got to help.”
“Then it is important to me as well.” Dan Heng sent another set of coordinates to Himeko, and then stepped back, turning to face her. “I would like you to know, Stelle, that had I known this would happen, I would never have stayed behind. I assumed that this would simply be a social event, of a kind I do not care for, and that was a mistake.”
Stelle shrugged. “But you didn’t know. None of us knew. And, you’ve probably heard, but they gave us a lot of grief just changing the room assignments, let alone adding another one.”
“Even so, I will do whatever I can from this point forward. You may count on my support.”
“I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
Dan Heng wasn’t the most talkative member of the crew, and he had difficulty expressing his feelings, but she knew he cared just as much as the others. An understanding reached, he silently went back to compiling navigational data.
In the end, the process took nearly two hours, by the end of which Stelle had shed her coat and sweat through her shirt. The final result was a long list of starship instructions that she found incomprehensible, but that Himeko seemed pleased with.
“Alright,” she said, “we have our course. The crafts we have available are small and not made for distance, so I’m quite impressed with the ground we managed to cover on our available fuel. Your additions were a nice surprise as well, Stelle — good work.”
Most of their destinations were first discovered by Akilivi, but Stelle, searching some arbitrary coordinates, had stumbled onto a few records that postdated their death. It wasn’t like she had discovered those places herself, but it still felt like putting her own little spin on the proceedings.
Stelle leaned against one of the shelves, mopping her forehead with her shirt. “So, what now?”
“Now, I think we can step outside and cool off a bit,” said Himeko. “After that, it’s your decision — I can prepare the launch procedure whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay,” she said. “Not just yet, I think. But… soon, probably.”
“I’ll be ready for you,” Himeko assured her.
Outside the data bank, the cool air blowing against her sweaty clothes made Stelle feel like she had been tossed into a snow drift. It still beat the heat radiating from the computer exhaust, though.
When they returned to the parlour car, March 7th sat alone nursing a glass of apple juice. Stelle froze as she passed her, staring at the table in the centre of the room, which was now bare.
“Uh, it’s okay!” March piped up, following her gaze. “Pom-Pom and Mr. Yang said the needed to get her ready — they told me we should head to the rear car when you guys were done.”
Stelle had visited the rearmost car of the train only once, when she had first toured the Express. Separated by an airlock from the other cars, it held a number of small vehicles meant for operating outside the train in an emergency. Welt and Pom-Pom stood near one of them as they arrived, its hatch open to reveal the interior.
“Stelle, everyone,” said Pom-Pom. Their voice, like a squeaky toy with anxiety, was not the most suited to delivering grave announcements. “I would like to express my condolences for this tragedy. While the fallen was not formally a passenger, Pom-Pom regrets not being better prepared to receive her. Welt and I have modified this vehicle to accommodate her, and if anyone would like to… take some time, or say a few words, Pom-Pom invites you to do so.”
The conductor’s voice did not falter, but as they finished speaking they looked not unlike a small, frightened animal. Welt rested a hand on top of their hat, making them jump slightly.
“They give me credit,” said Welt, “but mostly I used my mimicry to replicate tools for the conductor to use. Thank you, Pom-Pom, for doing the real work.”
“I-It’s nothing — the very least that Pom-Pom could do.”
Inside the ship, they had turned the pilot seat around and lowered the backrest, giving them easy view of its occupant. Firefly was laid out comfortably in the chair, the sheet she had been placed on earlier draped loosely around her. The soft, warm lighting of the Express deemphasized her pallor and gave her features a smooth roundness that the harsh light of the Dreampool had not — bundled up the way she was, now she well and truly looked like she was sleeping.
It would be cute, if she wasn’t dead.
“It’s a shame.”
Stelle looked back at Himeko, who spoke. Her expression was distant, her usual confident demeanour wavering. “Death is a part of life, and it is natural that we will see it as part of this journey, but sometimes it is too much. Too soon. This girl is… so young.”
“…Yeah,” said Stelle, looking back at Firefly. Her frame of reference wasn’t the best — many of her recent acquaintances were centuries-old Xianzhou natives — but at a guess, Firefly couldn’t have been more than twenty. “She should never have had to be caught up in all this.”
Her life should have just been starting. Trapped by illness, imprisoned in a body slowly falling out of phase with reality, she had escaped into a dream — and this is what she got for it. It was a joke.
Her view was broken by March 7th striding stiffly across her field of vision, directly towards Firefly. She bent down in front of her, and before Stelle could ask her what was up, she stepped away. In Firefly’s lap was a small stuffed animal, one of the many Stelle had seen in March’s cabin.
Her voice so low that Stelle barely heard her, March explained to nobody in particular: “…I thought she might get lonely.”
The tension in the room popped like a bubble. Welt stifled a chuckle, not quite managing to stop the smile that broke through his stoic expression. Even Stelle felt it, though it seemed a little like somebody had strapped weights to her face muscles.
March looked mortified, her face slowly turning crimson. It was Dan Heng of all people who spoke up first to reassure her. “I’m certain it will keep her good company, March,” he said. “Among the Xianzhou fleet, as you saw, these sorts of offerings are customary. I regret now that I did not consider bringing one of my own.”
“Me neither,” Stelle admitted. Truth be told, she didn’t have much to give. Her possessions were mostly either basic necessities or sentimental items that other people had given to her, and re-gifting them would hardly be appropriate.
“Ah, that’s okay…” said March. “It’s not like I brought it up with everybody beforehand. Why don’t we just say this little guy is actually from you?”
Stelle didn’t think that was quite how it worked, but she appreciated the sentiment. “Sure.”
The group lapsed into relative silence after that, quietly paying their respects. After a short time, Welt approached Stelle.
“We’re ready whenever you are,” he said. “This car will be depressurized, so we won’t be able to stay here when the craft is launched. It will pass by the Express, where we can see it out the windows. If there is anything you would like to say or do before that time, now is your chance.”
His tone was kind and gentle, and washed over her like a bucket of ice water. This was her chance. Her last chance. She mumbled something unintelligible, and then cleared her throat and repeated in real language: “I’d like some time alone, I think.”
Welt nodded. “That’s perfectly alright. You can come find us when you’re ready.”
At his direction, the others filed out of the room. As the door slid shut, Stelle was left alone for the first time since she had met with Black Swan that day. Like her strings had been cut, she sunk to the ground in front of the craft that would be Firefly’s tomb. She looked up at her, nestled in the pilot’s seat.
“So, this really is goodbye, huh?”
She received no response.
“I was… pretty scared when you told me you were sick, you know? I only met you that night, but my first thought was, ‘how many years will I have to know you?’” She laughed, a hollow ha sound that seemed to echo in the empty car. “Guess that didn’t end up mattering too much, in the end.”
Stelle figured that right about now, she should probably feel… something. That she should want to scream, or sob, or just curl up into a ball and lay there. Instead, she felt empty. It wasn’t a good feeling — it was a sort of misery that she was totally unequipped to process.
“I had a good time, you know? I never got to tell you how much I enjoyed it — even the scary parts, when we were lost in the Dreamscape together. I’m weird like that. I guess all of us Nameless are.”
At first, she didn’t honestly expect to like adventuring. But with discovery and danger came a rush that was addictive. The elation that they shared amongst themselves, facing death and living to tell the tale, there was nothing like it. Would Firefly have understood? Would Firefly have felt it too?
She smiled at Firefly, despite herself. “There was a lot that I wanted to say to you, but… you can’t hear me now. We’re sending you some pretty cool places — I think you would have liked them. I would have liked going with you, if we got the chance.”
Slowly but not unsteadily, Stelle rose to her feet. She would never hear the words she wanted Firefly to say to her; would never know the answer to what she wanted to ask. If sitting there talking to herself would change that, then she would never leave — it wouldn’t, though.
“I’m going, now. Next time I see that Stellaron Hunter, I’ll put a few dents in his helmet for you.”
Stelle looked back one last time as she stood in the doorway. “…Bye, Firefly.”
By the time Stelle returned to the parlour car, the Express had already left the spaceport, and was now orbiting Penacony. They would retreat to the outer edge of its gravity, and there they would release the emergency vehicle. Himeko and Welt were standing together, talking quietly to each other, and Stelle gave them a nod when they spotted her. She was ready, as much as she would ever be.
As the Express drifted further out into space, the crew arranged themselves along the window to watch the proceedings. Stelle stood next to March, who fiddled anxiously with the crew badge pinned to her jacket. Himeko conferred briefly with Pom-Pom, ensuring the instructions they had processed were loaded correctly.
When they were far enough from Penacony, the ceremony began with little fanfare. After a brief wait for the rear car to be depressurized, the conductor waddled into the parlour car and addressed them.
“Everyone!” they called. “Pom-Pom has confirmed the successful launch of the emergency vehicle. It will be visible through the starboard window momentarily!”
Stelle stood up straight, staring intently out into space. Inch by inch the emergency vehicle crawled into view, until it was fully level with them, flying side-by-side through space.
The craft seemed to move in slow motion, its speed almost synced with the Express. They couldn’t see inside — transparent viewports were not a necessary luxury for this sort of vehicle — but the sight caused a pang in Stelle’s heart regardless. She placed a hand against the train’s window, as if she could reach out and touch it.
It stayed that way for a while, like they and it were following the same path together. Gradually, though, it started to pull away, its thrusters flaring as it began its long journey through the cosmos. Beside her, March 7th was sniffling as she stared out at it. Stelle watched for a long time, until it became difficult to distinguish from the stars it had gone to join.
She felt a drop of liquid pooling along her jaw and brought a hand up to feel her face. Without realizing it, she had begun to cry again. When she turned her attention back to the window, she had lost track of where the craft had been. It was gone.
There was no particular end to the ceremony. The emergency vehicle would be on its path far beyond the end of all their natural lives, with no fixed destination. An endless journey into the unknown, like Akivili had embarked on so long ago. Her friends spoke to her, offering final words of condolence, but she didn’t really hear any of them, still looking out into the stars.
Eventually, Stelle left the parlour car to take a shower. She didn’t particularly want to — lying on the floor and staying there forever seemed like a compelling alternative — but she knew that she was a mess, and the routine, mechanical action was easy for her to focus on.
Looking and feeling marginally less like some sort of dishevelled slug creature, she returned to her cabin and sat down on her bed. Outside her window, Penacony slowly grew larger, the Express spiraling closer while Himeko negotiated with the Family’s space traffic control to arrange for them to dock again. It made her tense and restless, and she couldn’t look away from it.
Her reverie was broken by a knock at her door. “Stelle?” came March 7th’s voice from the other side. “Are you there?”
“Yeah,” she called back. “Door’s unlocked, you can come in.”
“Okay,” said March, sliding the door open and stepping inside. She gave Stelle a smile, but it was strained, like her face was being held that way against her will. She didn’t look great.
“Hey,” said Stelle. “You can sit down, if you want — the desk chair’s not super comfortable, so the bed’s fine too.”
She slid closer to the window as March walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. “Sorry for barging in,” she said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
Stelle thought about it. She looked down at the floor, and finding no answers there looked back out the window. After a long moment of deliberation, she replied: “Dunno.”
“Uh, pardon?”
“I don’t know how I’m doing. I sure don’t feel good, but it’s like I’ve just kind of… run out of emotions for right now. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than before.”
Stelle wasn’t really sure what a funeral was supposed to make her feel like, when it came down to it. It hadn’t felt like this after the soul-soothing ceremony, but she had known Tingyun only professionally. Strictly speaking, she may never have known Tingyun at all.
“I guess I don’t know that either,” said March. “The others all seem so collected, like they’re used to this. Maybe the old me was more like them, but to the now me this is all pretty new.” Her tone was almost casual. Her hands, resting on her knees, were clenched so tight her knuckles were white.
“Yeah…” Stelle agreed. Her life had for all intents and purposes begun just a few months ago, and she was pretty sure that there were better ways to start it. March had a few years on her, but they were in pretty similar boats. “I’m surprised how well you’re holding up, honestly.”
March gave a humourless laugh. “I mean, I can’t cry more than you do, right? That’s just not fair.”
Stelle shook her head. “No, when I first saw her, it was… a lot. I was mostly all cried out by the time I got here.”
“Oh,” said March, her voice thick. “T-That’s good, because I— I…” she brought a hand up to her face, her eyes shut tight to try and stop the tears. “Darn it…”
March 7th cried relatively quietly, stubbornly trying to keep it together even as her shoulders heaved and her nose started to run. Once she got most of it out, Stelle passed her a box of tissues from the bedside table, and she blew her nose loudly.
“Thanks,” she said. She took a deep breath, looking out the window. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, you know? Trailblazing is supposed to be fun — we get to go to all these worlds and meet all these people, it’s awesome. But all you’ve gotten to see so far is everything going wrong, and I hate that. You deserve better than this.”
“I’d sure like to think I do,” said Stelle. “There was never really an alternative, though, was there? The Stellaron Hunters gave me to you guys for a reason. They wanted me to get caught up in all this, and that means you guys getting caught up in it too. Sorry about that.
March’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t even get me started on those guys. If that little hacker twerp ever shows her face for real, I’m choosing violence. That’s their fault for setting you up, though — don’t blame yourself for it.”
Stelle shrugged. “Fair enough. But, anyway… I don’t think you’re right.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t get me wrong, a lot of this has sucked.” Hungry children in ragged clothes, pale from lack of sunlight. Soldiers locked in battle with the twisted, overgrown husks of their companions. The sickly, hallucinogenic feeling of watching the Fragmentum eat away at reality. Stelle still woke with a start sometimes, as a lance of ice speared her dream-self through the heart. “If we ever manage to visit a world where we don’t have to see a bunch of people suffering and dying, that’ll be pretty cool.”
“But,” she continued, “it’s not all bad.” Watching the sea split open before her eyes. Fighting side-by-side with an ancient titan. All the people she’d come to know, and their displays of bravery, of resolve, of love. A secret sanctuary, standing at the top of the world and looking down over the dreams of countless people. “There’s a lot of great things out there in the universe, and I don’t regret being here with you all. I don’t regret seeing the things I’ve seen or… meeting the people that I’ve met.”
March smiled, more natural than her earlier forced cheer. “Tell me about her? If that’s alright.”
“She was nice. Kind. She showed me all around Golden Hour, and seemed to know everything there was to know about it. Being around her felt… warm, like she lit up the whole place. She liked Oak Cake Rolls,” Stelle added as an afterthought.
“Oh, I saw a sign for those. They seem… interesting?”
“I tried some. They don’t actually have that much wood — they used to, back when people ate them for survival, but now it’s ground up really fine as a flavour additive.”
“So they’re good?”
“Absolutely not. They’re a dessert, but they’re still weirdly savoury, and the texture is really dry but also super tough and chewy. I don’t know how she did it.”
“Different strokes for different folks, I guess,” said March.
“She didn’t just love the touristy parts of the Dreamscape, either. She knew all about the tools the Family uses to maintain it, and could bring us all the way to the edge of where they’ve cultivated it. She was sharp. Street smart. She tried to play it off, but you could see it in her eyes when she looked at someone. She wasn’t just some girl, that’s for sure.”
Firefly had had a will, of a sort Stelle had seen in others on her journey. A sense of determination and purpose that was striking in its intensity. She must have been a Pathstrider, Stelle figured, though she didn’t know which one she walked.
“Sounds like somebody I would have liked,” said March. “She seems like she had some secrets, but… all us of do, right? Even if the two of us can’t remember ours.”
“Yeah,” said Stelle. “And I think you’re right — you would have loved her. Oh!” A thought striking her, she reached for her jacket, lying in a pile on the bed. “I should show you this. I… guess I kind of stole it? It wasn’t really mine to take, but…”
She withdrew the phone she had pocketed and turned the screen on, showing March the picture she and Firefly had taken together.
Standing next to Stelle, silhouetted by the twilight sky, Firefly looked radiant. She hadn’t been kidding about being camera-shy, but her awkward posture lent a certain genuineness to the picture. Her smile, reaching all the way to her sunset eyes, more than made up for it. Her happiness, her vigour, her life — this was how she deserved to be remembered.
“She’s beautiful,” said March. “I kind of got the sense when I saw her before, but it seemed like a super weird thing to say then, you know?”
“I certainly like her better this way,” said Stelle. It was meant to be lighthearted, but as the words left her mouth, it felt like they tore her heart out with them. She would never see Firefly that way again.
March watched the way that she grew tense, concern etched across her face. “You know,” she said, “Dan Heng’s kind of a computer guy, right? Maybe he can figure out how to get access to the image file? If he does, we can print it out on some of my photo paper. We don’t have to go snooping through her data or anything, just… you look really happy in this too. This is an important memory, right? And you know how I am about that. I think you should get to keep it.”
Stelle shifted the phone in her hands, staring down at the photo of the two of them. “Well, it’s not like I can return the phone now, anyway. I wouldn’t mind that.”
“I’ll ask Dan Heng about it for you. And, Stelle?”
“Yeah?”
“If you need to hang back for a while, that’s okay, you know? The rest of us can take over for now.”
Stelle gazed out the window at Penacony looming in the distance, considering the offer. It would be a lie to say that she was ready to face it again. Even looking at it, tens of thousands of miles away in space, filled her with dread.
She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I need to do this.”
March 7th opened her mouth to respond, stuttering to a halt as Stelle continued. “Somebody… somebody did this. I don’t know if they set that thing on Firefly on purpose, or if she just got caught up in someone’s scheme, but this wasn’t an accident.”
Red eyes that gleamed with cruel mischief. A mountain of armour and the smell of charred flesh. A woman’s voice that echoed like crows circling a battlefield. The oily slick smile of a man willing to risk anything. The builders of this dream, and hounds whose fangs kept it in their grasp. One by one the suspects flashed through her mind. All of them, fighting over this fantasy, and the Watchmaker’s legacy at its heart.
Stelle let out a deep, low breath, almost a growl. “I didn’t actually care that much about the secrets here, you know? We were keeping an eye out for the Nameless that disembarked here, sure. But the coded messages, and all this squabbling between the factions? Not really my problem. Now it is my problem, and whoever is behind it all is going to wish it wasn’t.”
As she went on, a grin slowly spread across March’s face. “Right! No way somebody can just screw with peoples’ lives like this and get away with it. If you’re gonna keep going, I’m with you a hundred percent; all of us are. No matter what, let’s get to the bottom of this — for Firefly.”
Stelle closed her eyes, and saw her. That girl who shone so brightly, so briefly; a light that had captivated Stelle utterly. She nodded.
“For Firefly.”