“And here’s your quarters,” Dechambul says, pointing to a small, empty room with nothing besides a neatly-made bed. “It’s a little sparse… but I’d think you’d prefer that over the morbid furniture our previous healer kept. Do let me know if there’s any stains left behind, though I’d hoped the automatic cleaning took care of all his... remnants.”

Breve walks in, studying the clean walls and floors. No such ‘remnants’ seem to remain, and for that, Breve is infinitely grateful. “Looks fine,” she says, because at this point a warm bed is all she can possibly ask for. “I’ll be alright with just a bed.”

“Haha, I guess it works for now. Hey, once we complete our first mission, I’ll take you shopping for furniture,” Dechambul offers, and Breve looks up in surprise.

“We can go shopping?”

“Oh, definitely!” Dechambul’s eyes light up as he spreads his arms wide, gesturing wildly. “Once you get your first paycheck, we’ll stop by Tien. It’s a CBT rest stop, which means the entire planet is overrun by rampant consumerism! You’ll be able to buy anything you’d ever want from there.”

Breve only focuses on one word that comes out of Dechambul’s mouth. “Paycheck? I get paid?”

“Of course!” Dechambul laughs, putting his hands on his (squishy) abdomen as he does so. “Working in the CBT is a respectable job… actually, the only respectable job for us ‘barbarians’ who aren’t among the four Progenitor Races.”

“What… are these Progenitor Races, anyway?”

“Now that you’ve got your CBT sleeve, you can go ahead and ask it those questions, and it’ll answer for you,” Dechambul points out, and Breve looks at her arm in surprise. “I’d highly recommend directing those questions to your sleeve. Trust me, it’ll explain with much more detail than I could!”

With that said, Dechambul cracks his shoulders (is that the sound of bones snapping) and sighs. “Don’t worry too much, Breve. Once you settle in, you’ll realize it’s not too bad. All room and board is covered by the CBT, and they’ve literally been all over the cosmos, so no matter how strict your dietary requirements, you’ll be able to get your favourite grub here.”

“Favourite…” Breve looks back up. “Hey, I was just wondering, what… was that thing you were eating?”

“Oh, nothing special!” Dechambul shrugs. “I just tossed a few things in the blender and ate it up. The usual vampiric fare… some cow blood, a handful of mealworms, my own liver… yeah, that’s about it?”

“Ah,” Breve breathes. And then her brain screeches to a halt. “Your own liver?”

“Waste not, want not,” Dechambul laughs, and Breve has to sit down on the bed to prevent herself from fainting. “Regrowing my body takes a lot of energy, and I’m not going to waste any good protein. Especially the ones that drop out of my guts!”

Breve buries her face in her hands. “I… are you… going to be okay, Dechambul?”

He lets out another full-bodied laugh, and the forcefulness of it definitely cracks a few bones this time. “I see you’re not familiar with vampires! Just a tip, Breve: you’re going to run into a lot of species, both in the CBT and out on the field. And a lot of them are going to be very different from what you’re used to. There’s too many in the universe to know about every single one, unless you’ve got freak encyclopedic memories like Peach. But there’s no harm in asking the CBT sleeve about a new species when you encounter them.”

Dechambul gestures at Breve’s arm. “In fact, why don’t you try it now? Ask the sleeve to explain the vampire species.”

She pulls her hands off her face, before turning to the sleeve. “Alright… uh, Mr… CBT sleeve, can you explain the vampire species?”

The sleeve immediately lights up. “PLAYING AUDIO FILE: INTERGALACTIC GUIDELINES FOR UNIFIED SPECIES NAMING. SECTION: VAMPIRES.”

WELCOME, RECRUIT

Vampires

Vampires are unique amongst the universe for several reasons. They are unable to reproduce amongst themselves: instead, they are a parasitic species which multiply by transforming humans into vampires through a bite to the neck. This means that vampires are reliant on the presence of a human population for their continued survival. Though there are many species which share close similarities to humans, a vampire bite meant to turn them will either have no effect or, in the case of more frail species such as the rabbitfolk, lead to their death. The only notable exception are catfolk, who upon being turned will behave similarly to their human-vampiric counterparts.

This species prefers the dark and shuns the light, though the extent of both depends on subspecies. Each subspecies will transform those bitten into the same subspecies as the biter. The naming of these subspecies are based on the vampires described in ancient human literature, where writings from different eras in their history led to vampires with vastly different traits, leading to the formation of three unique subspecies during the Era of Creation.

Classical: The rarest and most varied of the subspecies, the classical vampire describes those who closely resemble the earlier mythos of blood-sucking monsters. These vampires have no set appearance and are capable of shapeshifting into many different animals, though shapeshifting often takes a noticeable toll upon their bodies. As such, classical vampires often shun human civilization, living in remote locations or amongst other vampires. They are able to feed off both humans and non-humans for sustenance, but their messy feeding habits means that they often leave a trail of maimed, blood-drained bodies in their wake.

The classical vampire is also the most sensitive to ‘natural light’, which in this case is any light from the planet’s sun. Upon being directly exposed to natural light, their skin will begin to rapidly melt off, and if they survive the incident, they often take over a week to regrow their skin. Though they have increased resistance to natural light while shapeshifting, they will still be noticeably affected if they remain for too long. They are immune to all other light sources. Though the classical vampire is extremely hardy, being able to survive the loss of most vital organs and even decapitation, exposing their heart to sunlight will lead to immediate death.

Victorian: The most common vampire subspecies. Victorian vampires share a few common physical similarities, such as a prominent widow’s peak and slightly pointed ears, along with their easily recognizable elongated canines. Unlike their classical counterparts, the Victorian vampire is only capable of shapeshifting into a bat; furthermore, shapeshifting bears no inherent cost, and they are able to switch forms whenever they please. In addition, they are only capable of feeding off human blood. This means that Victorian vampires are often found blending into human society, as they are reliant on humans for food and much better at hiding their tracks.

The Victorian vampire is also harmed by the presence of sunlight, suffering crippling upon exposure. If they remain too long in the sun, they will begin turning to dust, effectively killing them. If the Victorian vampire manages to retreat into the dark, however, they will regain full power and suffer no lingering ill-effects. Other methods of killing them include a wooden stake through the heart or complete cremation; most other injuries which would prove fatal to humans are of no concern to Victorian vampires.

Contemporary: The odd one of the bunch, contemporary vampires have been described as nothing more than glorified humans with pointy teeth. They lack the weakness to light that the other subspecies possess, though certain tells that they are vampires still remain (e.g. sparkling skin). However, they also lack any shapeshifting ability. In addition, contemporary vampires lack most of the hardiness that other subspecies possess, as many methods that kill a human also work on contemporary vampires.

Instead of reproducing through stalking and trickery, contemporary vampires often turn humans consensually. This is likely because contemporary vampires are often regarded as extremely attractive by the standards of their society. Furthermore, while all vampires have elongated lifespans, contemporary vampires are effectively ageless upon turning, maintaining their appearance until death.

“Now, take a guess,” Dechambul says. “Which one am I?”

“Since you talk about melting skin and eating your organs, I’d wager the classical vampire,” Breve guesses.

Dechambul only laughs again in response. “I was hoping you would flatter me by saying contemporary… but yes, you’re right. Now, if you run into anyone who you don’t know the species of, your CBT sleeve can also tell you by taking a blood sample— though, I suppose you would probably need to ask them for permission, first.”

“Totally,” Breve mutters as the memory of Tiffney roughly shoving a syringe into her palm comes back to the forefront of her mind. “Thanks, Dechambul. I’m probably going to ask this sleeve a few questions… and go to sleep.”

“Of course! Take care,” Dechambul says, bowing out of the room. “Oh, and— just another thing. Since you’re in our squad, you can access our personal files too— just say our name.”

Breve blinks. Personal files?

As Dechambul shuts the door behind him, Breve looks at the gauntlet. Perhaps if she could read the files rather than sit through them being read out to her, she would look it up. As it goes, even she’s aware that reading at your own pace is probably more relaxing than having the words blathered out to her.

Because yes, even now, Breve’s own inadequacy haunts her. Joy.

Breve immediately begins slapping herself gently on the cheek. “No, no, no. Stop thinking like that. Now’s not the time.” She lays back on the bed, forcing her eyes shut.

Now is the time to rest. To sleep.

And then, Breve sniffs at the air, before realizing that she stinks.

Jerking back up, she almost walks out the room to ask Dechambul where she can wash herself, before remembering about the sleeve. “Oh, let’s see if this works,” she mutters to herself. “Hey, where are the showers?”

The sleeve lights up accordingly, and soon, an easily-understood map shows up in front of her, accompanied with arrows pointing her way. “Great, thanks,” she says, as if it was a real person, before following the directions out the door and into her squad room’s showers.

After asking the sleeve if it was waterproof— to which it responded ‘yes’— Breve steps in and takes a nice, hot shower. The kind that is long enough to make you relax, but not long enough to make you start having a crisis of reality, of which Breve has clearly had enough of today.

Drying herself off, Breve grabs one of the many blue spellcaster’s robes hanging near the shower to wrap herself in. Even the generic, CBT-issued clothing is a little fancier than the ratty clothes she was dragged here in, though she’s not too keen on tossing them away just yet— sentimental attachment and all. Putting them into the laundry system, Breve walks back to her room before once again lying on the bed.

Nah. No dice. There’s no way in hell she’s going to be sleeping soundly after all of that.

After managing to avoid mentally beating herself up for failing to even do a task as simple as sleeping, she decides to pose another question to the sleeve on her arm. “Hey,” she begins, recalling Peach’s words. “Where are the Training Grounds?”

As with the showers, it shows her the way there. Taking a deep breath, Breve walks out her quarters, then out of the squad room to begin navigating the spaceship in a bid to find Peach.

It’s kind of a dumb idea, and Breve feels a little too much like a lost child looking for their mother, but Peach did say that anyone could drop by if they needed to find her. In the end, Peach has been the nicest person to her in this time— other than Dechambul, but he’s also kind of melting into a puddle and that freaks her out. And, well, it’s probably better to familiarize herself with her new home than stare at the ceiling for hours while being ravaged by a monumental survivor’s guilt on the planetary scale.

Yeah. Like that. Not good. Time to find Peach.

Breve tries her best to look like she isn’t fresh off the planet-rubble, but the way she flinches when a more scary-looking species turns the corner definitely doesn’t go unnoticed, and she gets a few stares her way. Still, most have the general courtesy to leave her alone, save for a few tiny red-skinned imps that start whistling suggestively at her— before walking right into the path of a passing gigantic serpent, nearly getting swatted into the wall by the swish of its tail.

The more she goes down the tubes and walks around the Main Hub, the more relaxed she begins to feel. Yeah, everyone looks weird, but that’s the point, isn’t it? They’re all weird. And if it’s normal to them, well, it’ll be normal to her in due time.

Eventually, she finds a hallway with an incredibly high ceiling. The signs around it all state it clearly: this is the way to the Training Grounds.

Walking down the hallway, she realizes that the walls have turned into transparent glass, allowing her to look into the rooms. And, as the name would suggest, everyone she sees inside is training: from swinging heavy-looking clubs to performing impressive feats of sorcery, CBT recruits of all kinds are whaling on dummy targets, or sparring each other.

In just one glance, Breve sees a dozen more different sword styles and magic spells than she would’ve ever guessed even existed. The thought of locating Peach in this place is just a little daunting, but hell, she’s a CBT member too now, right? She belongs here too. Doesn’t matter how out-of-place she still feels.

So she walks down the hallway, approach what seems to be the center of the Training Grounds, and—

“And look at you!”

Breve’s ears immediately twitch up. All the hairs on her body and tail stand straight in shock as Tiffney’s voice bellows over the din of clashing steel and spells, and the elf cuts through the crowd to sling an unwanted arm around Breve’s shoulders. “Didn’t expect you’d be able to find your way here!”