The ceremonies didn’t last much longer; there was, undercurrent to everything, an urgent air, not pronounced enough to notice, but present enough to feel. After the recent, sudden attacks, it seemed like having the pilots separated from their Saviors, even so briefly, caused a degree of anxiety amongst the commanding officials. In the same way Dahlia was now all but glued to the Aerie and [i]Dragon[/i], it seemed like Quinn would seldom be away from [i]Ablaze[/i] unless there were other pilots available. 

So, when the lift landed once again, Quinn and the denizens of the Ange bid goodbye to the crowd with a fairly tame farewell. Toussaint positioned himself beside Quinn, who he sequestered towards the edge of the lift, so that he stood between her and the rest of the crew. Commander Darroh had made it quite clear to him that the girl was easily flustered, but even without the warning, he’d seen that well enough for himself at the duel. 

Thankfully, aside from some wayward glances, everyone kept their distance. He’d instructed as much, but, with pilots you never could know what they would and wouldn’t listen to. Especially with the new blood. Camille had always followed orders well, but Sybil and Cyril were young celebrities—which, after Hovvi, was not a sort he would blindly trust any longer. Even now they stood shoulder to shoulder, glancing back at Quinn with poorly-hidden intrigue, muttering to one another like school children in the back of a classroom. He did not envy Darroh the daycare RISC had become.

They drew closer to the Ange, now visible through the hardlight barrier above them. Unlike the utilitarian Aerie, built around the stripped corpse of Westwel’s old station, the Ange was an original work, and like most things from Casoban, it was a work of art. It was easily twice the size of the Aerie, wide, disc-shaped, like a tiered dessert saucer awash with lights and viewports as tall as houses. Curving buttresses swept out from the base, around the entrance to the elevator, and encircling the whole station was a ring housing what appeared to be a monorail system. If the Aerie was a town, then the Ange was a small city.

With a smoothness like butter, the elevator eased into the hangar. Even for a place that was ostensibly entirely practical, it was still beautiful. The ceiling was vaulted like a cathedral, and the alcoves for the Saviors—all close to the platform—were shaped like stone pillars, though they were undoubtedly metal. Tiny trucks and forklifts scooted about on roads painted onto the floor, elegant and organized. A small cluster of workers stood about nearby, pretending to be busy. Toussaint had made similar orders that they not be crowded upon their return, and this was…close enough. Stargazing he could permit, especially considering many of the crew had families not too far from where Quinn had been fighting. 

The platform sealed beneath them, and the barrier flickered away. To his relief, the crew—twins included—wandered off immediately to leave him and their newcomer alone. Only Camille lingered a moment, casting an impassive if appraising look at the young pilot, before marching away.

“Well,” Toussaint said with a long breath. “I suppose this has been a rather exciting day for you, and it’s hardly lunch. Speaking of…” he retrieved a small satchel from atop a nearby cargo box, which he offered to her. “Your onboarding package. Inside you’ll find a map of the station, complete with the operating and visitation hours—the Ange’s lower shopping floor is open to occasional tourism from the public, but mostly private, sector. You’ll be expected to make yourself visible—though not necessarily available—during these every now and then. If you’d like to allow interviews and autographs, I’d recommend scheduling a time and location, unless mobs are your thing.

“The floor directly above us belongs entirely to the pilots. Your dorms are in the western radius, recreational and private facilities are in the east. No other personnel aside from medical, security, and myself have access unless granted by you. The lift connects there,” he pointed to a hallway just beside the alcove [i]Ablaze[/i] was stationed at. “And there is a second lift in the eastern radius that leads to the station’s upper floors. It’s quite a walk from one end to the other, so I’d suggest acquainting yourself with the monorail. There’s a smaller auto-walkway in the dormitory floor as well. 

“There is a curfew. Pilots must be on their floor by midnight, but everything therein will remain open, and a small catering staff will be on call in the event you find your amenities to be insufficient. You are welcome to any of the Ange’s restaurants, but private chefs are available, and eager. 

“I suppose this goes without saying but, you and all the pilots are always on call. That goes for singularities, yes, but also for public events. At your commander’s request I’ve seen to it you have no mandatory appearances for your first two weeks, but I can make you no guarantees after that. If I might offer my advice, I would try to attend something before that point, whether you interact with the public directly or not. 

“Other than that, you are, essentially, free as you please. I’ll do my best to make myself available to you should any concerns arise, but I do beg your understanding for any delays, as things have been…hectic, as of late.” He gestured to [i]Ablaze[/i] then, entombed in scaffolding, upon which men and women in lab coats scurried about like ants. “As you can see, your Savior was transported safely. My people are running tests as a formality, and they will, of course, see to any emergency issues, but your own technicians should arrive tomorrow to do their part. 

“Do you have any questions? Is there anything I can clear up for you, or do to make your settling here easier?”