01

She only saw it for an instant, right as they came out of warp. The planet, a nameless red-brown thing, was already dead, but the moon was still very much alive. Its pale, gray body was covered in cracks, from which fins of light spread out into space like a winter aurora. Color and shape sloughed from it in a blurry orbit, bending even the empty void into a whorl, and it was hard to tell where, or even what, it truly was. All she knew, and all she felt, was the immense and terrible malice radiating from within it.

The Mondkonig. Mindbender. A bruise in reality. Miyo had seen them before, and was each time unprepared.

Before she could blink to shield herself, the viewport shutters closed. Dim lights flickered on overhead, and the rumbling of the engines quieted as they slowed to a crawl. There was silence, broken only by the occasional beep from the navigation console, and the permeating thrum of space.

“Alright,” said Jinsei, their pilot. “Enough rubbernecking. Don’t need you all bent in the head before we even get started.”

Miyo rubbed her eyes, took a settling breath. “Gonna be okay flying blind like this?” she asked, leaning over his seat to observe the nav. Beside his controls was a holoscreen, which streamed a feed from the little transport’s exterior cameras. The video was filtered and refreshed slowly, so what they saw was more like a washed-out, pixelated slideshow of the outside. Like this, the moon was reduced to a simple, dull circle, sheared of its warped radiance and malevolent aura.

Jinsei scoffed and lit a cigarette. “You better hope so. Empire’s out a lot of money and effort if I crash.” He took a drag and blew smoke into the vents above the console. He was an unkempt man, with long, pushed back hair and the scraggly beginnings of a beard. Pilots could deploy for months at a time, so they skirted more regulations than most. “Speaking of, why don’t you go check on the princess?”

Instead, Miyo pointed to the display. “Is that the Hallow?” she asked. Hovering in front of the moon was a dark, blocky shape, suspended in utter stillness like a sleeping whale.

Jinsei huffed, squinted, and flipped a few switches on the console. “Yep. Big bastard isn’t she? When I was eight, one of these Ryu-Class ships parked itself in orbit over my home world. Felt like I didn’t see the sun for a month.”

“It’s closer to the moon than I thought. Are you sure the ports are clear of the distortion field?”

“What am I, clairvoyant?”

“Are you?”

“Allow me to consult my crystal ball.” He tapped the console and there was a sonar-like pulse on the image, drawing an outline around the Hallow’s bulk. After a moment it blinked green. “The spirits seem optimistic,” he said with faux reverence. “Would you like your horoscope, too?”

She plucked the cigarette from his mouth and put it out on the back of his seat. “Last time you coughed during the landing and jammed one of the struts.”

“Oh, fuckin’…whatever,” he grumbled, snatching it back but stuffing it into the pocket of his flight suit. “Go get your girlfriend. Should only be a couple minutes.”

Miyo left him to his work. Like most pilots, Jinsei didn’t appreciate having someone breathe down his neck, but she couldn’t help it. She was a stickler by design, especially when it came to matters like this, when it was more than just her own life at risk. He put up with it though, and not, she suspected, simply because of her rank. She’d asked him before what his longest stretch was flying solo, and all he’d told her was, “Long enough that I don’t fly alone anymore.”

The back of the transport was only marginally less cramped than the cockpit. A hardly cushioned bench ran along either side, with suspended cots fastened up on the walls for extended trips. Miyo knew from experience they were somehow less comfortable than they looked, and was glad this jump had been relatively quick. The lights back here were soft and low, but sleep never came easy in space travel.

At least, not to her.

Enri sat on the bench with her head leaned back against the wall, and her eyes shut. Black hair ran long down her back and over her face like a frayed curtain. Her Imperial uniform was gray trimmed with white, but as with most Zauberin, her work had left it ruffled, torn and stitched, and faded. Her chest rose and fell in a soft rhythm, and Miyo felt a knot twist in her stomach.

“Hey,” she said quietly, hurrying over to shake her awake. “Hey, Ennie, you shouldn’t—”

“I’m not,” Enri muttered, brushing Miyo’s hand away before it even touched her. Her eyes peeled open, bleary blues staring up at the ceiling. She sounded tired, and there were dark, restless circles beneath her eyes, but all of that was par for the course. “Guess we made it.”

“Jin’s bringing us in now. Should be nice and smooth. Smoother than last time, anyway.”

“Low bar.”

Miyo chuckled, but Enri only continued to stare deadpan at the lights. Clearing her throat, Miyo retrieved an energy bar from a pouch on her belt. “Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Still, looks like you could use a little boost.”

Enri finally looked at her. She wasn’t hateful, but the exhaustion had a way of turning her blue eyes cold and icy. For a moment she said nothing, but Miyo knew that was just a tactic, and held the bar out to her.

“It’s white chocolate and almond.”

Relenting, Enri took the bar and tore it open, before biting off half all at once. She was a slight woman and almost a head shorter than Miyo, but a Zauberin burned through energy like fire through a dry field; their appetites were often reflective of their capabilities, and Enri was always hungry, even when she wouldn’t admit it.

Miyo sat down beside her and hesitantly scooted closer, an act which Enri neither rebuffed nor reciprocated. Though they had been partners now for well over a year, and though ostensibly Miyo knew everything there was to know about her, these days she found their interactions stilted and difficult at the best of times. Enri was opaque. Not her motivations, but her thoughts, which as guardian and ward were meant to be of almost synchronized lucidity. Instead, Miyo often worried over whether she was saying or doing something wrong, something that might offend Enri in an unexpected but irrefutable way. Nevertheless, they functioned—they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t—but Miyo always hoped for more. She couldn’t help it. That was by design, too.

“Are you nervous?”

Enri glanced at her, brow cocked. “Why?”

“You’re bouncing your leg to the beat of ‘Skyline Cardio’,” Miyo said, nodding down to Enri’s boot tapping softly against the metal floor. “You do that when you’re nervous.”

“Oh.”

“Ever since we heard it live in eighth grade, you always do that before—”

“Stop.” Enri’s voice turned hard, and the coldness in her eyes was not happenstance now.

Miyo looked away, silent, until Enri leaned back against the wall. Another misstep. “It’s gonna be alright. Whatever it is, we can handle it. You can handle it.” She smiled, but couldn’t bring herself to look back at her just yet. “And I’ll have your back.”

The ship rattled, the lights flickered. There was a whoosh of pressure outside as they presumably passed through the Hallow’s hardlight hangar gate. The humming void was replaced by a more industrial sort of white noise, and there was a triumphant laugh from the cockpit as they came to a steady landing.

“Yeah,” Enri sighed quietly. “I know.”