Peach rises to her feet in surprise. “What? So quickly?”

“Calm down, calm down,” Tiffney laughs. “First things first… when a nice dragon found me knocked out cold in the Teleport Hanger, he not only helped me to medbay, but he walked me through the registration process for adding a new member to our crew! Ta-dah!”

Suddenly, Breve’s face is projected from a light emitting out of Tiffney’s Sleeve. Other than the general oddness of observing yourself being projected on a holographic screen, Breve’s ears twitch up in shock at how scarily detailed her mugshot is, right down to the mole atop her right cheek. How could they capture her likeness in such stunning accuracy?! “Turns out, all I needed to do was to submit the blood sample I collected, and the planet we nabbed her from! Paperwork really isn’t as hard as you make it out to be, Peach.”

“No, it isn’t... but I am sure you would have found a way to make it difficult if you were left to tackle it on your lonesome,” Peach remarks blithely. Tiffney only laughs again, before pulling out a metal bangle from her pocket.

She waves it at Breve, who then squeaks as Tiffney lobs it at her with top speed. The bangle would’ve made direct contact with Breve’s nose, had Dechambul not swiftly reached out an arm to grab it for her. “And that’s your very own CBT sleeve, Breve. Try it on! We’ll see our new mission details together.”

“This is… the sleeve?” As Dechambul places it into Breve’s hands, she stares at the dimensions of the large ring. It’s nothing like the gauntlet which covers the entire forearm of her squadmates.

Still, she slips her left arm into the hole within it. And that’s when the magic happens.

Breve realizes that there still remains a little bit of wonder within her that wasn’t blasted to bits with the rest of her planet. She watches in awe as the bangle suddenly cinches itself to her wrist, comfortably fitting around her skin before expanding across her arm. It wraps around her digits snugly, and though the device seemed a little bulky on everyone else’s limb, now that she’s wearing it, the sleeve almost feels like a second skin.

“WELCOME, BREVE.” It addresses her in a robotic, yet inviting tone, and suddenly the metallic plates that looked like armor begin to give out light, projecting a whole list of possible commands in front of her.

Peach nods along, examining the words as they appear. “HP… not the best, but we will work on that. Very high MP reserves, as expected from a Rank A Healer. Ah, but… known spells…”

“Whoa,” Tiffney pipes in, “I’ve never seen such garbage potencies before! Cure for only 10 HP? That can barely seal up a scratch!”

“Shut up,” Breve finally has the confidence to mutter, and while Tiffney looks aghast, Peach lets out a soft chuckle of approval. There is, however, another problem which Breve has to now contend with:

All these things they’re talking about make no sense to her, and she doesn’t see anything of that sort on the screen. “What’s HP and MP?”

Dechambul points at the top left corner of the screen. “Oh, they stand for health points and mana points! You should see the equivalent in your native language over on this side of the projection.”

“Um…” Breve clicks her tongue, studying the display in front of her. “I just see a red bar and a blue bar. There’s some drawings, too. Nothing else.”

Peach narrows her eyes. “Are you sure? Do you not even see the labels?”

Tiffney shrugs her shoulders. “Guess she’s got a graphical glitch, or something! Maybe we’ll need to bring her down to medbay and get it checked. They’ll probably put a worm in her eye to fix it, or something.”

“A w-worm?!” Breve immediately jerks away from Tiffney in horror. “I can see just fine, thank you!”

Dechambul puts a bony finger on his chin, tapping away in thought. “The sleeve seemed to integrate without a problem… it should be translating everything she sees and hears to something she can understand. Clearly, she can understand what we’re saying, so that part works.”

“Wait.” Peach looks up. “Breve, do you see this symbol on your screen?”

Quickly, Peach pulls out an image of an audio sign. “Oh!” Breve looks around, and sure enough, it’s on the bottom right. “Yeah, I see it.”

“As I thought,” Peach hums with a nod. “Everything is in working order. Breve is simply illiterate.”

Yikes.

Breve sputters indignantly at Peach’s matter-of-fact declaration, while Tiffney bursts out laughing. Dechambul himself tries not to join the elf when Breve’s face twists into a grimace, clearly affronted by the claim. “Hey! I can read! I was top in class in academics back in school! I… it’s all destroyed now, but there’s no way I could’ve gotten full marks without being able to read! That’s preposterous!”

Peach tilts her head, blinking owlishly at Breve’s distress. “The displays projected by your CBT sleeve will always take a form best suited for your understanding. For illiterate users, they will show clear pictorial representations and audio options for further elaboration. It is clear that you are illiterate.”

“I am not!”

“Alright,” Dechambul interrupts, stepping in between Peach and Breve. “Clearly, there’s a communication breakdown here. Peach, I know you’re just stating facts, but illiteracy can be a pretty scathing mark of shame for some societies!”

“I AM NOT ILLITERATE!”

“You cheated on all your exams,” Dechambul finally says, and it is declared with the same finality as a judge sentencing the damned to death row. Breve doubles back and nearly falls over, gaping at Dechambul as all words leave her. “I didn’t want to reveal your secrets unnecessarily like this… but trust me, Breve, I know them. All of them. I am, after all, the CBT’s best vampire.”

Breve raises a shaky hand, still reeling from the last piece of her pride being consigned to the abyss. No, not that she was top marks, she knew she didn’t deserve it— the pride that she’d at least gotten away with cheating in an academy where cheating was considered impossible. “How did you… even their magic sensors couldn’t… what does being a vampire have to do with finding out about that?”

“ALRIGHT!” Tiffney shouts over the din, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Bitch can’t read, who cares? Let’s get onto the mission briefing already!”

“...Yes,” Peach sighs, agreeing with Tiffney for once. “Breve, navigate to this mail symbol, then tap that audio symbol. It will read our mission briefing aloud.”

Without anything else to do, Breve brokenly raises her right arm to do as Peach says. She finds the mail, marvels for just a moment at the animation of it opening like a real envelope, and proceeds to play out the mission briefing for everyone in the room.

ATTENTION, RECRUIT

Planet: Heles-397, “Hades Penitentiary”

Class: D

Orbital Guard Program: PRESENT. ARACHNID-TYPE LEVIATHAN

Statues: ABSENT

Description: Largely covered in poisonous swamps and smog. Ground temperatures just above freezing and day-night cycle is nearly negligible due to heavy pollution. Signs of life detected, however no evidence of sapience has been found.

Records retrieved from a previous mission (see: Heles-141) revealed that Heles-397, once called “Hades Penitentiary”, was created to house the prisoners of the Heles galaxy. Terrain is purposely designed to be difficult to traverse. During the operation of Heles-397, a chemical accident occured, killing all prisoners and staff members. While data corruption has made most reports on the incident inaccessible, the information available seems to indicate that the corpses of many prisoners were reanimated.

As no effort to reclaim Heles-397 had been made, it is assumed that these reanimated bodies are highly dangerous. Approach with caution.

Dismantling Procedures: A command must be issued from the Head Jailer. Due to data corruption, details on the nature of this command or who/what it should be directed to are unclear. As the Head Jailer is long-deceased and possibly re-animated, the assigned squad should have a member who can raise the dead while returning their living memories, as detailed in the Recommendations section.

Recommendations: Squad MUST include either (1) no lower than a Rank B Necromancer or (2) no lower than a Rank A Cleric-Type with Resurrection specialization. Species that prefer minimal visibility and/or are resistant to poison are highly recommended (i.e. Underground Dwarves, Cave-Dwelling Mothren, Vampires). Any species under the Plantae classification may be recommended, but must bring food supplies due to lack of light.

Any CBT member with a fear of kinemortophobia should not be considered for this operation.

Persons of Interest:

Head Jailer Bamadis. Head Jailer at the time of the accident which led to the current state of Heles-397. Described as a Dragon, though no further details on subspecies or abilities could be found.

Van Lieza. An inmate on Heles-397. Abilities described would classify them as a Rank A Necromancer. Theorized to be behind the reanimation of the prisoners, though preliminary analysis of Heles-397 has not found any signs that they are still alive. Due to data corruption, species or appearance could not be determined. If found, engage with caution. Recommended for recruitment.

“Oh.” Dechambul blinks, turning his head to Breve. “Well then!”

“Looks like our new healer’s gonna have to level up real soon,” Tiffney says with a smirk, and Breve feels the blood draining from her face as she takes it all in. Reanimated corpses? Poisonous landscape? Necromancy? “How many levels do we need, Peach? Will the grind be better or worse than when we dragged Dechambul’s sorry ass up the ranks?”

Dechambul opens his mouth to protest, before Peach cuts in. “We… will have to spend quite a while grinding, I believe. Looking at when Breve unlocks Resurrection...” Peach taps away at her sleeve for a moment, before she lets out a soft sigh. “Almost eighty.”

Breve doesn’t know how much that is, but from how Tiffney nearly collapses on the spot, it’s probably a lot. “Eighty! Like, eight zero?”

“I’m afraid so,” Peach confirms. She turns to Breve, before giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It comforts Breve, just a little bit. “Rest assured that, though we may have our differences, all three of us are experts at grinding. It will not be long till you catch up.”

“I, um… thanks,” Breve says, trying to understand the words being thrown at her without coming off as stupid. But ultimately, faking knowledge in a planetary-destruction space-organization is probably way worse than in a shitty elitist healing school, so Breve decides to ask away. “What exactly… do you mean by ‘grinding’?”

Tiffney claps her hands together, and a worryingly enthusiastic grin slips across her face. “Oh, don’t worry Breve. You’ll know.”

Something tells her that she doesn’t want to.

“In any case, we should prepare for our mission.” Peach walks away from the rest, before waving a hand in front of a wall to reveal another doorway. “Those in charge do not take kindly to long delays before embarking on a specifically-assigned mission. It is clear that the requirements of this mission call for one of Breve’s talents… so I do hope that the both of you will give her your full support.”

And by both of you, Peach clearly means Tiffney, as if the way Peach turns around to stare at the elf for a moment isn’t indication enough. “Dechambul, do show Breve to her room. We will be resting a night before departing. And Tiffney, just…”

Pause. “Just stay out of trouble,” Peach sighs with a certain resignation. “I will be in the Training Grounds till we are ready to leave. If you need me, you may find me there.”

As Peach walks down the doorway and out of sight, Tiffney tilts her head, making direct eye contact with Breve. In an instant, the hairs on Breve’s white caten-tail stand up in discomfort. “Right, then! I’ll be seeing you around,” Tiffney says, smiling widely enough to reveal the sharpened edges of her canines.

And with that, she turns around to leave as well, skipping away like a schoolgirl off to see her crush.

Breve turns back to Dechambul, who eyes the spilled coffee on the table with a slight hint of sadness. “Well, I’ll clean that up later,” he shrugs, before beckoning Breve to follow. “Sorry again for revealing your secret! Perhaps I can make it up to you by teaching the ways of navigating this infuriatingly complicated spaceship?”

“Sounds good,” Breve mutters. She waves her hands in front of her sleeve to dismiss the hologram, which seems to work as the lights power off. “Lead the way, then.”