The first time Redana heard the Nero verse, golden hair tucked into a bandana and mask pulled up to hide a rather distinctive face, her cheeks burned and she fell silent, listening to it ring out all around her, her pride pricked and prodded. How dare they talk about her Mommy like that! How dare they mock her subjects! She was sullen and dejected for the rest of the shift.

It took time for her to figure out what they meant. It was like a lightning-bolt striking her the day she realized that what that song meant was that [i]they agreed with her.[/i] Kind of in a mean way, but the Coherents didn’t have much of a filter in a way that made her... well, relax, once she knew that not everything they said was calculated and intentional. That they said the first thing they thought of, and if that got a laugh and a “fuck you!” that wasn’t a challenge to duel but a mild rebuke or even an acknowledgment of, yes, I don’t mind what you said, but don’t think I won’t push back if you try to insult me.

Then she started to sing with them, in time with the hammers and the wrenches, the cabling and the scything. Her voice was made for operatic solos before an audience, but here, among the strange shapes of the Coherents, this neo-creed, this trans-crafted fellowship, it was one note among the many. And once she was there, she sang the verse about her mother loudest of all.

Because one day, they’ll be singing a verse about [i]her[/i], and she means for it to be a really, really good one.

(And Redana noticed more than they let on, too. Noticed how they closed ranks around her, didn’t let her get singled out when the Magi were looking, how they Knew that the human princess was looking to slum with them... but she kept her head down and didn’t complain, and they let her be one among the hundreds.

(Catch her, soot rings around her eyes from her goggles, glowing with exertion as she flops into bed without even undoing her ponytail, smiling her way into dreamless sleep. Catch her, delegating as much as she can to Iskarot, sneaking stamps of approval for the Order’s motions and resolutions on lunch breaks while around her, there is laughter and insult-contests and jokes about Nero snapping off Zeus’s swan[1] between her cold thighs.

(Catch her shouting back into the hubbub: “How long does it take a Coherent to install a bulkhead?” Catch the reply swelling all around her: “Depends on how often the Magi change their minds!”

(Catch the smile around her eyes, crinkling over the smoothness of her mask, one golden strand escaping to curl on her forehead, as she listens to Big Jenny talk about the movie she starred in[2]. Catch the moment of serene acceptance.)

***

[1]: long, stately, beautiful, and prone to causing catastrophes.

[2]: [i]chan-barra-chan-barra-chan-barra-chan!!![/i]