The cockpit was cold, and dark, even with the skullport open. As the elevator brought the unnamed Savior down from Aerie Station, Quinn could only sit and feel the odd, artificial gravity keeping her steady. The vents on the suit’s collar warmed her face, but an eager chill raked its fingers down her scalp. 

Dahlia stood in the narrow opening. She wasn’t suited up—Dragon was still docked in the hangar—but she’d thrown on a few layers of shirts and coats, and had a scarf around her neck. She still shivered even without being [i]inside[/i], but made no complaints.

“[color=skyblue]It’ll happen,[/color]” she said. Her words were visible in the frosted air. “[color=skyblue]You’ll get it, it takes a little focus at first but you’ll get it. You just gotta reach out, physically and, y’know, mentally, too. Don’t think too hard about what you want it to be, don’t worry about not knowing what to do with it—it’s all natural. It comes to you, from the Saviors. They know what to do with these things, so, so do you, if that makes sense.[/color]”

She looked down below, to the horde of engineers scurrying around the Savior’s feet. Most were running last-minute diagnostics as the elevator closed the last distance to the earth. Some, she saw, were snapping pictures up at them—or more likely, at its face. 

Its eye still hadn’t grown back. A month had passed, and the Savior’s socket was empty—covered now by a metal plate. Dahlia had never seen anything like it before, which wasn’t too surprising, because evidently [i]no one[/i] had. All wounds dealt to a Modir short of destroying the brain would heal, without fail, in every single case. 

Except for this one. 

She tried not to think about it. It wasn’t her area of expertise anyway, and whether the thing had one eye or four or twenty didn’t matter to her. Quinn mattered, and Quinn seemed to do just fine with it as it was. 

“[color=gray]Alright, touching down,[/color]” Besca’s voice said over the comms. Sure enough the strange gravity waned, and with a slight shake the elevator came to a stop. “[color=gray]Slot in whenever you’re ready.[/color]”

“[color=skyblue]Gonna be right here on the lift watching the whole time,[/color]” Dahlia said. She scooted in enough to give Quinn a hug she’d likely barely feel through the layers, and then climbed back onto the lift outside. “[color=skyblue]Good luck, sis.[/color]”

As she descended, the view behind the open cockpit opened up. They’d come to a vast expanse of flat, dry earth, and miles in the distance the lip of a crater creased the horizon. The bed of a long-gone lake, perhaps—plenty of space regardless. 

Soon enough the door shut, and she was enshrouded. 

The eager chill returned. It told her she was ready.