Mcmolly

Amygdala Circuit

Tillie recoiled at the offer, cast a furtive glance back at Ablaze as if it had caught her doing something she shouldn’t. “O-oh, gosh, that’s—well, I appreciate that. I’m thrilled to be working on it, you can bet I’ll be hanging around all the time. W-working, of course! Strictly working. Thank you! Uhm! Really!”

A nervous giggle escaped her. Left unsaid were the silent laws of a place like the Aerie, the hierarchy of the staff, and the expectations laid upon those who could only newly call the station home. Quinn’s offer was kind, but Tillie’s bosses weren’t going to let someone as green as she was have free reign over a Savior, blessing or not. If she showed up here unscheduled she’d be planetside with her junk packed in a box and a resume that would function better as kindling after RISC was done with it.

But, of course, she wasn’t going to say any of that. Not to Quinnlash Loughvein. Quinn, even! The girl seemed so nice, and even without the weight of their unspoken social dynamic heavy on her shoulders, she could never bring herself to reject a gift. For now, she would ride the high of sitting in Ablaze’s cockpit, and being friendly with her favorite pilot, and that would carry her plenty far.

Tillie checked her phone, let out a small, excited sound that she’d find time to be embarrassed about later, alone. “Oop! I’ve gotta log my results then check in with my supervisor,” she said, making her way back onto the lift. “You wanna ride down together, or do you need a bit more time?”

The Shattering of Aegis

---

This was a fucking nightmare.

Lilann had seen plenty of death in her time, especially in the past few days. She was used to the way it looked, how it smelled, and how it affected the less obvious senses, like comfort and guilt. She was not, however, used to seeing it move. So when the dead wolves burst from the brush and charged them, she took a moment to check whether or not she was dreaming.

As it turned out this was not, in fact, a fucking nightmare.

Ceolfric and Ermes leapt into action, brave boys that they were. Lilann’s focus shifted quickly to the wolve rushing towards her. She clutched her whittling knife and reeled it back, flooding it with her aether—only to see the dark blur of a waterskin hurtle past her at the beast. A moment later, she registered the hazy shouting she’d heard a moment prior as Kyreth crying out her name. He must have thrown it. A brave boy in his own way.

It wouldn’t be enough she guessed, even if the wolf had been living. So, with a sharp whistle, and the somatic propulsion of the throw, she launched her knife after it. It sailed arrow-fast, guided more by will than anything—which was for the best, she was an awful shot with a bow. As it drew close she curled her fingers in and twisted her hand, shouting: “Down!” Heeding her call, the knife angled down following an intuitive marriage of her motion and her intent.

Her goal wasn’t to take its legs; the blade was small and even if she managed to slice one it would just keep coming. Instead, her aim was the back of its neck, or its back, to pierce in and press it to the ground. With any luck—and a fair bit of aether—she hoped to pin it there until Kyreth or Ceolfric or anyone, even fucking Cerric could come take the damn thing’s head off like Eila was instructing them to do.

Amygdala Circuit

Tillie continued to rub her arms, her hands, her face. It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed how cold it had been inside, but now back in the warmth it seemed so reluctant to leave her. Perhaps that was just another effect of the cockpit; she’d never read anything concerning it, but, there was a certain unnatural aspect to the Modir that made it hard to call any study ‘definitive’. Who was to say, really?

Looking to Quinn, it seemed she was still stricken as well, shivering, teeth clattering. She’d broken out into a cold sweat though, which was odd, but again, by what metric? Certainly cold sweats weren’t unheard of among pilots who were often dealing with modium growths in their own bodies. Still, as close as modiology could run with medicine, Tillie wasn’t a doctor. It wasn’t her place to say.

So, instead she got excited. “Can I?” she squeaked, voice suddenly and thoroughly thawed. “I mean! Uhm! Of course I can!”

With a bounce in her step, Tillie scurried back to Ablaze and took hold of the opened port. Her stomach fluttered to look into the darkness one more time, but then the chill reached out for her again, and she closed the door. It sealed with a sharp hiss, and black-against-black, the seams all but vanished to the naked eye.

Instantly she was warmer, the whole of the air was too. Coming back to Quinn, she stood with her hands triumphantly on her hips. “Phew! Savior secure! How’d it look in there? I mean, did you see anything you want checked out?”

Amygdala Circuit

The cold did fade, quickly, and with it the pressure. The presence was slowest to go, and even then it didn’t leave her completely. Quinn’s messages went out, and, expectedly, she received no response from Dahlia. Besca did reply a handful of moments later though.

- great hun ! gla d u r making friends :o) -

Inside the cockpit, Tillie stood with Quinn’s phone light, torn. Obviously the appropriate thing to do would be to leave immediately. This wasn’t just like being in someone else’s room, this was a Savior. People like her weren’t meant to even see inside the cockpits, to say nothing of being left inside unattended. To dally would have been wholly unprofessional, and if Quinn decided she’d waited too long, or if one of her superiors happened to check the feed, she could be very justifiably fired.

But…when else would she get a chance like this?

She could be quick.

Using the phone as a guide, Tillie approached the seat and carefully, very carefully, hopped up onto it. The cushions were surprisingly soft, but still utterly frigid. As she leaned back against them, the chill shocked her, pushed through her back all the through her chest, her legs, her face. She rested her head against the frame, and felt the barest tickle of the plug’s input against her neck, a focal point of cold almost like a needle. Of course, she had no housing for it, and the last thing she wanted to do was bleed all over Quinn’s cockpit.

She lay there, shivering, but inwardly as settled as she might be lying in her own bed. She felt her face split for a smile, her cheeks burning, the corners of her lips cracking. A horribly embarrassing giggle escaped her, and she was thankful there was no one around to hear it.

For a few, transcendent moments, she wasn’t Tillie Tomm, Modiologist. And she didn’t quite feel like Tillie Tomm, Hero Pilot, either. Just then, she was Tillie Tomm, Turning Ten, and it was the happiest she’d been in a long, long time.

When she emerged from the Savior’s skull, she was quaking like a leaf, her face was beet-red, except for her lips which were graying. She rubbed her arms and cheeks furiously, and squeezed her hair, which crackled like ice. Her glasses were frozen over, and she rubbed those clear too. If she was at all uncomfortable, she showed no sign of it. All Quinn saw was a wide, goofy grin, and the giggling that came with it.

“T-t-t-that was a-am-mazing! Thank you s-so much, I-I’ve d-dreamed about that forever!” She held out Quinn’s phone, unscathed save for a bit of frosting over the screen. “U-uhm! B-b-but I d-definitely get wuh-wh-why you guys wear h-heated suits!”

Amygdala Circuit

With the dark there came an odd and familiar enveloping sensation, like arms around her, briefly, before it slipped off of her like a blanket. Even then it didn’t feel entirely gone. Along with Tillie, Quinn could feel another presence there, separate from them, and from the unplacable pressure exuded from the pulsing walls. And, as always, it brought with it a certain comfort.

Tillie walked with all the sure-footedness of a newborn faun, immediately folding in on herself to stave off the cold. Of course, even in the cockpit’s frigid heart, she didn’t seem the least bit deflated. As Quinn checked the seat, she made her way to the soft edges. They held no brace, but there were, driven into the flesh, the dim, blinking lights of a measuring array. Tiny nodes set up all around, aimed inward towards the seat. Tillie guessed it was another way of monitoring the Circuit’s regenerative progress.

Tentatively she reached out, probed the brain matter with a single finger. Soft, damp but not wet, though she felt a slight suction the instant her skin made contact with it and she jerked back. A cold-addled giggle broke the dark and quiet.

“T-t-t-this i-is-s…s-so cool!” she said through chattering teeth, punctuated with a squeal. She came over to join Quinn at the seat, marveling in the narrow but piercing light of the phone. “A-a-and y-you just….s-sit here! I-in this! I-in the c-c-cold! Uhm! The suits m-must be s-s-so warm!”

She ran a hand down the chair, careful not to touch the inputs, though she did lean in close to examine them. “I n-n-never tho-o-ought about how yo-you’re p-plugged into this. I-is it c-c-comfort-t-table? D-d-do you get…l-like…uhm! C-c-cramps?”

The Shattering of Aegis

---

Lilann was no stranger to waking up with the urge to scream, and so it was with practiced restraint that she managed to keep from shrieking when a nightmare quite literally tore her from sleep. She said a silent thanks to nothing that no one had heard or noticed her bolt upright, and though it took several minutes for her heart to slow and many more for her breathing to steady, she did eventually shut her eyes again.

Just in time for it to be dawn. Next time she would just pray for death.

On the road once more, Lilann found herself in a daze. She tried to keep her mind busy, plucking at her lyre and forcing herself to focus enough to carry the tune—though she did not sing. Occasionally the chill would catch her the wrong way, and she’d glance urgently behind her, or out into the woods. She listened for…well, she didn’t know. Growling, perhaps, or maybe music.

Often her eyes went to Kyreth, as though he might be gone if she didn’t check on him. She had to remind herself that the shadows about his face, and clothes, were shadows and not blood, had to tell herself, almost out loud, that he was still alive. It donned on her that she’d never heard him scream before, and so she couldn't know what it sounded like, even in a dream.

In the back of her mind, a part of her was confused and repulsed by how quickly she’d begun to care for him. He was nearly twice her size, and she suspected they were about the same age, but more and more when she looked at him she saw…

The cart. Or didn’t, rather, as she walked squarely into the back so committedly it nearly knocked the hat off of her head. She felt her mask for cracks, relieved to find none, and made a mental note to threaten anyone who might have witnessed her clumsiness later. For now, there were evidently more important things to worry about.

Ceolfric and Ermes stood near the front of the wagon, talking to themselves—Ceolfric much more loudly, and not, it seemed, explicitly to the shadowy boy. Their attentions were focused upon a wounded wolf in the middle of the road, but before she could consider the pitiful thing any further, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Once again, practice saved her from an embarrassing outburst. It was only Kyreth, though he seemed rather concerned. “Be careful, something is wrong,” he said, before joining Ceolfric and Ermes. She would have followed despite his quiet urging for her to stay back, but then she saw the woman, Eila, draw her bow. Almost instinctually, Lilann pulled the knife from her pouch, ready to infuse it with aether.

She watched, confused and more than a little apprehensive, as Eila loosed a—surprisingly excellent—shot directly at the wolf.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn received an ecstatic shriek in reply, devolving into another giggling fit “See the cockpit? Really? I’ve literally dreamed of it!” Tillie said, near breathlessly. “Yes, yes! Uhm! Please yes!”

She stepped out of the way and followed along behind, practically hopping. She deposited the equipment on a table near the Savior’s ankle braces, and the two of them proceeded through Ablaze’s legs, to the lift situated along its spine. The ride up gave them a scenic view of the mottled back, and not much else, but Tillie looked very nearly as fascinated as Quinn had on her ride down to Mona’s.

“They tell you about how big they are, and, you know, you see them on TV all the time, but this…wow. Uhm! I never got to go to any of the singularities growing up. Dad never liked them, didn’t trust it. Duels too. Couple years ago I thought I’d never get to see one up close like this, let alone work on them. It must be so cool, huh?”

Eventually they reached the top, where the neck-brace was extended into a wide, flat platform that spanned Ablaze’s shoulders. There were more tables up here, tool cabinets and tables cluttered with equipment that looked like it might be meant for reading as much as mining. Tillie scurried over to a little console and swiped her nametag over its sensor.

“I-I saw your fight in Casoban!” she said over her shoulder. “You really surprised everyone, even me! Uhm! I mean, not that I didn’t think you wouldn’t—well, maybe I didn’t, a little. But I was rooting for you! Ever since they first started talking about you. Actually, it’s kinda why I signed up.”

As Quinn approached the back of Ablaze’s skull, she felt that chill again. It had been coming to her more often, and unfailingly each time she’d come to check on the Savior. The cockpit would be frigid, she’d know, but it was almost as if that cold darkness was reaching out to meet her.

Tillie sidled up beside her again, hands clasped together. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean—I don’t want to assume or anything. I know some pilots are really particular about this stuff. Should I close my eyes? Turn around?”

Amygdala Circuit

Tillie’s eyes magnified behind her glasses, making her look somehow more excited than she already was. “Really? I can? Okay, uhm! Quinn!” she giggled again, high and staccato in a way that drew passing eyes.

Her hand remained extended until Quinn drew attention to the equipment she carried. With another jolt, and a sharp, Oh!, she fiddled with the plated machine until it finally stopped beeping. A thin screen displayed a green light and no other information. The shavings she’d taken from Ablaze’s foot were sealed inside an inner chamber with a transparent lid.

As with all things removed from Saviors, they had begun to break down into the bubbling, black ichor of liquid modium. While normally being so close to it would have been extremely dangerous, Tillie’s nonchalance suggested that the sample must have been safely contained.

“Wrong?” she asked, though as she studied the display and the sample it sounded more like she was asking herself as well. “Mmmmnope! Nope it looks good so far! I was just—well, the section heads noticed you were coming in a lot, thought maybe you found something wrong yourself. They ran a full diagnostic on it, didn’t find anything, but well, you’re a pilot! You spend more time in that thing than anyone so, if you’re checking it so much, then it must be important! That’s what I told them, anyway.

“I sorta study modiology. I mean, sorry, uhm! I do study modiology. So I sorta-volunteered-sorta-got-assigned to monitor Ablaze! You can think of me like…your assistant technician!” the idea got another, softer chitter out of her, but it was quickly snuffed. “O-or! You know, I don’t have to be! I can totally stay out of your way, only draw samples when you’re not around—it’s no problem! Whatever’s better for you, Miss—uhm! Quinn!”

Tillie tried to salute, but she had to hunch low to keep from dropping the equipment again. Her smile turned nervous, expectant. She seemed ready to be yelled at, but something told Quinn that even that wouldn’t deter the woman.

Amygdala Circuit

The ride down was quick, quiet. Rarely was her presence in the hangar a good omen, but then, perhaps the recent days of her new habit were enough to help her forget that. Perhaps they weren’t. As the doors opened, she was given the chance to find out; Ablaze had been moved, and when Quinn exited the lift’s hallway, passing by the pilots’ locker room, she found her Savior standing directly across from her on the other side of the hangar.

From here it looked fine, which was to say, it looked like a monster. An array of braces, like shackles, helped keep it upright, and even, even with the light in its singular eye out, the beast radiated malice. Every person that passed below, every vehicle beeping by its feet, it regarded them all with the same hungry, flayed rictus. To see it in such stark light was an equally stark reminder that these things were not dead, only subdued.

Subdued, and angry.

Less malevolent were the smiles and waves she received on her way over. The crew’s numbers had been greatly reduced from the incident at Hovvi, and the river of applicants had been dammed until Quinn’s duel against Roaki. Only in the past week was the Aerie really beginning to restore its personnel, and even then there weren’t many in the hangar to begin with.

She saw familiar faces; this shift was small, and most of the people moving through the hangar weren’t technicians. Those present seemed glad to see her, and throughout the tumultuous weeks that had not changed. True, there were some among the security staff, and in administration whose opinions of the girl were more mixed than they once were, but here, in the hangar, Quinn was still the rookie hero, out to change Illun for the better.

As she drew closer to Ablaze, Quinn would notice something…odd. A figure was crouched by its foot, lab coat bunched up into a puddle. They were scraping the steel carapace of the Savior’s organic greaves with some kind of tool, and collecting the shavings onto the plate of another device. It beeped, sharp and loud, overshadowed only by the person’s own bubbly giggling. Eventually they noticed Quinn approaching, and as though they’d been shocked, they jumped to their feet so abruptly, they nearly fumbled the—presumably expensive—equipment onto the ground.

“Quinn! Quinnlash!”

In a mad dash, they made their way over, and Quinn could see that it was a young woman. Tall, even hunched, and lanky, with her hair pulled back into a messy tail that still left strands hanging over her face. Wide eyes behind wider, round glasses stared down at Quinn with frankly alarming intensity, though it was somewhat disarmed by the enthusiastic smile.

“Quinnl—uhm! Ms. Loughvein! P-pilot Loughvein! Hi! Wow, you—oh!” Awkwardly shifting the equipment against her chest with one hand, she struck the other out. “Hello! I’m Tillie Tomm, I’m, uhm! I’m the new intern! W-well, I mean, sorry, I’m a new intern, not the new—nevermind. Sorry! Wow, gosh. Look at you! I’m actually talking to you!”

Amygdala Circuit

The elevator opened one floor early, the doors parted for Aldous Follen.

Besca sighed.

“Good morning, Commander,” he greeted, stepping in beside her. It was only the two of them, and this lift was quite a ways from medical. He’d come all the way across to find her here, and she half expected him to hit the emergency stop once the doors closed again. Instead he said nothing, only smiled blankly ahead. Somehow she still felt as though they’d been speaking for hours.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want, Follen?”

He feigned offense, poorly—couldn’t even hide the grin. “I can’t check up on my friend?”

“Checking up on your friend.”

“My friend,” he insisted. “Who is very clearly struggling to bear the weight of her honorary diplomatic duties.”

Besca sighed again, as involuntarily as the first. “You heard.”

“Saw, more like. Every news channel in Illun is abuzz about it. Casobani dignitaries flying into Eusero; I think even high school newspapers can tell what’s going on there. The imminent erosion of Runa’s union with Casoban, laid at the feet of RISC’s amateur commander, and her uncontrollable pilot.”

“They did not call her ‘uncontrollable’.”

“They will. Even our own people. Once Casoban falls in with Eusero, they’re going to blame Quinnlash’s actions at the duel—and you for allowing them.”

The elevator dinged and opened again. Besca walked briskly like she didn’t want to be followed, and Follen followed. “So what, then? Come to offer some grand solution?”

“I already did that, if I recall, you and yours just haven’t been able to deliver. No, I’m here because your theatrics with the Tormont girl are beginning to interfere with my department.”

“What, you didn’t consider getting manhandled as interference?” she scoffed.

“I considered it a part of those theatrics, but now things are moving backstage," he said. "The Board may not want to squeeze you right now, but they’ve certainly made their displeasure known to me. Our supplies are low, some of our men are sick and being prescribed band-aids. This morning I received an email giving me reason to believe medical’s payroll could be held until this situation is handled.”

“They can’t—”

“They could, and any public backlash they might face would be forgotten the moment you crack and they get to parade an enemy pilot to her execution. My guess is they’ll give her to Casoban, force us to work together against the inevitable retaliations from Helburke. Doubt it’ll work, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you for your suggestions.”

“I’m not making suggestions, he said, stopping. She paused begrudgingly. “I’m telling you to do your job.”

Besca couldn’t help the bristle that made her fists clench; she had to fight the urge not to grab him by the collar and show him what real interference looked like. But she took a deep breath instead, lips curling into a sneer. “That sounded awful close to frustration, Aldous. If you’re not careful you might accidentally feel something.”

Of course then he grinned again, which was enough to remind her how impossible that really was. “Good luck, Commander,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Part of her missed being colleagues—it didn’t look so bad when she yelled at him then. These days she did all her screaming on the inside.

---

---

She found Deelie in the sims. The monitors were off, but the readings came through normal at a glance. There was only one supervisor on shift, and, without anything to watch or any need for direction on the comms, there wasn’t much for them to do. So, when Besca came through the doors, they hastily took their feet of the desk, and wiped the drool from their mouth.

“Commander!” they started, but Besca waved them at ease.

“How long’s she been in there?”

“Uh, well,” they checked the terminal, blinking the sleep from their eyes. “She was in before my shift.”

Besca balked. “Since last night?”

“Since…uh…yesterday afternoon.”

She’d sent Deelie a text reminding her to get something to eat before she came back to the dorms. Now she knew why she’d never gotten a reply. “Cut the sim.”

“But,” the supervisor started, but a sharp glance told them Besca’s generosity was waning. “Yes ma’am.”

She made her way out to the row of pods as one opened, and Deelie sat up. The girl seemed a bit bewildered, but mainly she just looked exhausted. When she saw Besca, a little life returned to her and she waved happily.

“Heya,” she said blearily. “Where’s Quinn?”

“Asleep, because it’s six.”

“In the…?”

“Morning, Deelie.” She helped the girl out, and held her steady while she shook the feeling back into her legs. “Seriously, you had two slices of toast yesterday, and this is the third day this week you haven’t slept.”

“Mmh. Gotta.”

“No, you gotta go back to the dorms, lie down, and sleep. I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

Deelie looked at her, the haze clearing in her eyes just long enough for Besca to see how anxious they were. “Have to be ready,” she said.

“You have to be functional. The sims will still be here in twelve hours—which is when you’re allowed back in. Go.”

“‘Kay. Sorry.”

“Not mad at you, hun,” she said, running a hand through Deelie’s fraying hair. “Just…worried.”

Deelie nodded mechanically. The hours were starting to catch up to her. “Me too, she said, and walked away.

---

---

In her waking moments, as the warmth of her dream sloughed away, Quinn would feel a sharp chill pass over her. It slunk in through her cracked-open door, and moved across her bed as though she had no sheets at all. It touched her to the bone, not cruelly, but intently, as if to say: ‘Alright, time to get up.’

Distantly, she might have heard something she could easily have mistaken for hoofbeats. A shadow passed by her room, large and antlered, and then it was gone—or perhaps it hadn’t been there at all.

Her door opened wide, and standing there was not some ghostly beast, but the silhouetted form of her sister. Dahlia wobbled at the threshold, but eventually found her bearings and made her way in, step by shaky step until she nearly tripped into Quinn’s bed. This wasn’t the first time Dahlia had come to sleep here, and in fact, since they’d found out about Dammerung, it seemed she spent more nights here than in her own room. It was like she’d grown afraid to leave Quinn alone; then again, she had also been holing herself up in sims most days.

“G’night…” she mumbled, absently patting Quinn on the head. Moments later she was fast asleep.

Dahlia’s day had ended, but Quinn’s week had just begun.