595 had a lot to think about after the operation. She’d been taught from ancient texts, like everyone else. No one could deny her fanaticism for the cause. Yet, her role as sin-eater required a certain open-mindedness, to avoid compromising the mission. It was this thread of assimilation with Outremer at large that pulled at the back of her mind. Something was different between what she’d seen today and everything she’d been told before.

She’d checked Dr Lang was alright after the bumpy extraction. The scientist had seemed badly shaken, and for good reason. 595 had long since been desensitised to stressful situations like the rig falling off a cliff, but she was aware that many of these academics had led relatively sedentary lives until the last few months. The Agent had made sure they were accessing the support they needed, then retired to her quarters to fuck a crewmate and then meditate.

The Agent was holding a Dragon Squat in the middle of her room, low to the floor and completely motionless with her eyes closed when there was a knock at the door. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at her armour, which stood to attention in front of her with its visor down. “Answer it.” She ordered calmly.

The suit of armour padded silently to the door and unlocked it. It swished quietly open, and 595 could see her opposite number standing in the entryway. Already? The guy was insatiable. “What a pleasant surprise, Vreta’Sori! Come on in.” 595 ladled on the syrup, seamlessly exiting the squat and warming down her fiery muscles. “That was a close one, huh? Nothing like a bit of skydiving to make you feel alive.”