Besca watched as the pair of fresh Casobani pilots charged courageously at the singularity as it spewed forth a deluge of ink-black creatures. Most were crushed underfoot, and what surged past them was mopped up by the lines of military barricades waiting behind. Eventually a sizable beast, nearly half as tall as the Saviors, breached the void, rushing one of them on four legs, with a wickedly-horned head leading the way. A Modir clawed its way out shortly after to engaged the other one. 

The news feed quickly became inundated with drone-feeds, cycling between close-ups and wide-shots, while the anchors rattled off play-by-plays like sports commentators. For a brief moment that whole country held its breath, waiting to see if the newcomers would fold in their first battle. Even Besca found herself worried, instinctually. 

But there was no need. The pilots were swift, graceful, and they were obviously toying with their opponents—likely as they’d been instructed to. The pageantry of it all never failed to frustrated her; at least with someone like Dahlia, things were over quickly and without theatrics. 

[i][color=gray]They’ll be in a good mood after this,[/color][/i] she thought, but it wasn’t reassuring. This demonstration was as much for the people of Casoban as it was for the ESC. Eusero’s space station was parked right by Casoban’s, watching, assessing. This was an audition; that they would ally themselves was practically given, but the unspoken question of what Casoban brought to their allegiance had yet to be answered. They had to prove that their poor performance at the duel wasn’t a systemic weakness. 

Well, good for them. 

She’d been trying to ring the CSC station all morning with no luck. All week, really. There’d been no formal severing of ties, nothing in writing to say ‘[i]You fucked up, that’s it,[/i]’ but the message was clear nevertheless. She almost felt bad for Toussaint; the man was likely still fighting for their alliance with Runa, and it would undoubtedly cost him his job. Some new Euseran shill would be at the helm soon enough, then there’d be no conversations at all. 

Besca had half a mind to just leave. Why did she need to be here for this? The Board was looking for her replacement, and there was nothing she could do about it—there was nothing she could do about [i]anything[/i]. So why not leave? Why not just go spend what time she had left up here with Quinn, and Deelie, and just enjoy herself? 

With a resigned sigh, Besca started for the door. Fuck it, she’d take the girls to CB Danes, browse some online shops. They’d make an afternoon out of it. 

Then she heard it—the beeping. The chatter in the room fell instantly quiet, and everyone went still. Except Besca. 

“[color=gray]Where?[/color]” she asked, whirling back around. She pulled up the tracking map of Runa, scanning furiously for blips signaling a singularity. But there were none—at least, not here. 

On the TV, news stations scrambled, their anchors speaking so quickly and anxiously that the auto-translate struggled to keep up. But she caught enough: Two more singularities were opening in Casoban. 

[hr]
“That’s scary,” one of the technicians said. “They showed up fast.”

“Happened during the duel, too, remember?” said another. 

“Didn’t even have time to set up barricades.”

The crew was split, gathered into clots around TV screens across the hangar. They watched, muttering and worried, as the news showed the CSC station lowering its elevator on the outskirts of Gontiard, where already a small horde of creatures was charging towards the city.

“[color=f26522]That’s [i]Château[/i],[/color]” Tillie said, pointing to the Savior that leapt from the platform. Looking down at Quinn, she realized the girl might not have been as thoroughly invested in pilots from other nations. “[color=f26522]He’s probably their best when it comes to handling Modir. But with the new guys still on the coast, that only leaves [i]Foudre[/i] to deal with the other singularity—she’s more of a duelist.[/color]”

Usually, whenever she went off spouting trivia, people just told her to shut up. Now, though, the eyes that turned to her did so deference, and she felt suddenly burdened with responsibility. 

“[color=f26522]S-She’s fought Modir before, though, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Plus, the others will be done soon, then they can help.[/color]”

“No they can’t,” someone said.

The news went hysteric; a fourth and fifth singularity were opening. 

Static crackled overhead, then a voice thundered throughout the Aerie’s comms—it was Besca. 

“[color=gray][i]Brace for redirection.[/i][/color]”

A moment later the Aerie shuddered and lurched. The crew grabbed onto railings, the wall, or got low to the floor. Tillie was unlucky, stumbling to the ground alongside a slew of smaller, unsecured tools and devices. Before the general air of surprise could shift into anger, the intercoms sounded again.

“[color=gray][i]All hands to stations. Pilots, prepare to disembark.[/i][/color]”

All eyes turned briefly to Quinn, but unlike some of the looks she would and had been getting from the staff in other areas of the ship, everyone here seemed to hold her in confidence. As the crew split up and hurried to their stations, she got nods and assured pats on the shoulder. [i]Go get’em, girl,[/i] they seemed to say.

Tillie was much more forthright. “[color=f26522]Okay! Uhm! Go get changed, I’ll finish up getting [i]Ablaze[/i] ready for you![/color]” She reached out awkwardly, miraculously [i]still[/i] unsure of just how to operate her hands at a time like this, and wound up settling for a firm grasping of Quinn’s shoulders and a smile, before she darted off. 

Down below, shouts of encouragement rang out as a familiar face dashed across the hanger on a full-tilt sprint for the lockers—Dahlia.