"Well ... that was certainly something."

Note said the statement awkwardly, perhaps trying to break the palpable tension in the air. All she succeeded in was eliciting a huff of angry breath from Val as he entered his room and threw himself onto his back upon his bed.

"That's one way to put it, yeah."

She walked over to the edge of the bed closest to his feet and sat down. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Note glanced around the room, taking in the sight of various paper sheets with unfinished sketches strewn about haphazardly, as well as a few small projects of unknown design that were half-constructed. "So ... this is where you live?"

"For the last two years, yeah."

She gestured at the papers and projects. "What are all these?"

"Just some ideas I've been working on," he told her, sitting up and pointing at a circular device sitting on the floor. "That one's a custom filter for the gutter system. Should keep all the leaves and grass that get into it from ending up in the main water tank."

"I take it you're something of an engineer, then?"

He frowned. "I don't know if that's the right word for it. I just like ... making things."

A long silence followed as the two of them sat there, unsure of how to proceed. Note had asked if he wanted to talk about what happened downstairs, and truthfully, he might have said yes if it was Ten asking. But regardless of their apparently connected past, Note was still largely a stranger to him, and he didn't feel comfortable venting to someone he'd just met.

However, maybe there were steps he could take to bridge that gap. "Hang on, I've got something for you."

Reaching over to the nightstand beside his bed, he pulled out a drawer and reached inside. Retrieving a small pouch tied with cord, he unwrapped it and grabbed the item within to show her.

The matrix.

Gingerly, he held it out to her and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She brought the broken chip close to her face, analyzing it with a mixed expression of inquisitiveness and disdain.

"Well, good to know my safety was your top priority," she said with an air of sarcasm.

"The chip was fine until you crashed the ship," Val replied back, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose you'd rather I have left you with the Cell?"

He held his hands up. "Fair point."

Turning back to the matrix, she narrowed her optics. "It's certainly seen better days ... but I don't think it's beyond fixing. Not completely, anyway."

"I always wanted to try my hand at repairing it," he explained glumly, "but I was too afraid that I might make it worse than it already was."

"The crash did a number on the outer casing ... it's hard to tell what is or isn't salvageable."

He tilted his head. "Why would you need it? Don't you have a body of your own now?"

"I don't need it for that," she agreed, "but this is everything that I used to be—everything I was before I woke up."

Val's eyes widened. "You think there's still something left on there?"

She stared at the chip skeptically. "I'm not sure. But it's possible. Maybe there's something hidden inside that can help us."

He watched her tinker with it for a bit longer, maneuvering it with her fingers and inspecting it at every pause. Abruptly, she stopped and turned to him once more.

"You know, we didn't really have the best introduction," she said with no small amount of embarrassment. "Since that's my fault, I think it's fair that I'm the one to make amends."

She straightened her posture, and held her hands together in her lap. "Hello, I'm Note."

Val smiled, and extended his hand to her. "Nice to meet you, Note. I'm Valentine, but you can call me Val."

There was a moment's pause, and then Note gave a small chuckle as she accepted and shook it. "I guess that's a good start. What else ... hmmm. Well, how about this; you ask whatever you want about me, and I'll answer."

He nodded in agreement. "Okay, let's start small. Any interests?"

"I haven't exactly had much time to find a hobby," she joked, leaning back on the palms of her hands. "I like this coat. Does that count?"

"Cool coats, I'll add it to the list. Speaking of which, you planning on returning that?"

"I wasn't even planning on returning the ship. What makes you think I'd make the effort for this?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I guess I can't argue with that logic ..."

"What about you?" she snickered. "Any interests of your own? Other than 'making things', that is."

He let out a huff of air, looking down in thought. "Can't think of any that stand out. Maybe farming?"

"That's more of a job than an interest though, right?"

He shrugged. "True, it's probably not the most glamorous activity, but I actually enjoy it. At first, I just wanted to help Ten and Pragley, maybe repay them for all their generosity. But working the fields, spending the day outside ..." He gave a contented sigh. "It's kind of cathartic for me."

Note seemed surprised, but pleased with his answer. "Glad to see that you've made somewhat of a life for yourself in spite of ... well, you know."

Another silence fell over them, their earliest memories resurfacing once more—memories that neither of them were particularly fond of. She looked over at Val hesitantly.

"What do you think they wanted with us?"

"The Cell?"

"You know anyone else that abducted us?"

He rolled his eyes, but pondered her question seriously. "I don't know. Truth be told, I'm not sure I want to know."

"I heard some horror stories of them while I was on the Mercantile, rumors from people who crossed their path. If even half of them held a shred of truth ..." She shuddered, clearly disturbed by the prospect.

He didn't blame her. Ever since the day he'd escaped the gene-splicers, his sleep had been plagued by nightmares—not always about the Cell, to be fair, but they definitely played a prominent role in many of them. Sometimes, he found himself fitfully waking in the middle of the night as he relived the terrifying silence of the ship, punctuated by nothing but the metallic clangs of his captors' legs as they stalked the halls, hunting him down—

A sudden knock on the door startled them, and both their heads snapped towards the noise. As the door opened, Ten poked her face inside and was taken aback by their expressions. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine," Val assured her, letting out a deep breath as Note's fists unclenched. "What's up?"

"Prag wants to talk with you."

Note held up her left forearm, and a small section of it slid sideways to reveal a hollow space inside. Placing the matrix within for safekeeping, she turned back towards Val to await his answer to Ten. He inhaled slowly, steadying his nerves, then nodded.

"Okay."

Pragley sat at the dining room table, watching the trio as they descended the stairs. Val walked over and set himself down in the chair opposite of him while Note and Ten sat in the adjacent seats.

They all waited expectantly, watching Pragley fidget with the pockets of his overcoat for a few moments before he finally spoke.

"Kid ... I'm sorry."

He looked down in apparent shame, unable to meet Val's eyes. "I thought—I thought it would be better for you. Better not to know, better not to live in fear." He looked back up, his mouth tightening. "Not everyone in Spectra is as friendly as we are. I don't just mean the Cell—there are others who would take advantage of you in a heartbeat if they thought you were worth somethin' to them. I hid you because I don't want you to get hurt, kid. You've gotta understand that."

"Prag," Val said softly, leaning forward, "I do understand that, believe me. But this is all I've been able to think about for two years. Where I come from, who I am—I can't stand being kept in the dark anymore."

"Being in the dark is what's kept you alive," Pragley whispered. "Knowledge comes with a cost, Val. That hunger for more never goes away. The more you know, the more you'll want to know. And the more you want to know, the more danger you're in." He tensed up, shaking his head. "How can I set you on that path, knowin' you won't come back?"

The two stared at one another from across the table, Val' mouth parting slightly in shock. "Is that ... is that what you think?"

Without warning, he stood up from his chair and walked over to Pragley. Before the irva could say anything, he wrapped him in a hug. "I'm not planning on just taking off and leaving you behind," he said quietly. "You're not losing me, that's not what this is about. You're the only family I've got, Prag—but there are answers out there, answers I have to find. And I don't know where to look unless you tell me."

He pulled away and watched Pragley's eyes soften at his words. "Please. I need to know."

Finally, Pragley shut his eyes in pained resignation, and gave a small, reluctant nod.

"Okay."

Val made his way back over to his seat. Pragley tracked his movements, waiting until he was sitting again to speak. "I'll tell you what I know—but don't say I didn't warn you."

He stayed silent, waiting patiently. Pragley sighed.

"Twenty years ago, I was in a very different line of work. Dangerous work. I was in charge of a team that would scout out Architect ruins for sites of certain ... value, and catalogue them for further study."

Ten's eyes widened. "You never told me about this."

"It's not something I wanted to tell you," he replied with a sigh. "This is all stuff I tried to leave in the past. There were around twenty of us, and one of our jobs led us right up to the outer rim of the galaxy. A probe had detected strange signals coming from an uncharted moon, so we were sent to investigate. From the topographical readings, we were fairly certain that we'd discovered the site of some kind of Architect temple."

"What's so special about that? Architect ruins aren't exactly in short supply."

"True enough," Pragley agreed with a nod. "While it's no secret that Architect ruins are as common as rocks, most are as dead as the Architects themselves, nothing more than gravestones." He reclined in his seat. "Most ruins are only running in a sort of 'standby' mode, rudimentary power and activity at best. Sometimes you can get lucky and access a few of their systems to use doors, lifts, whatever. We expected as much when we reached the site, but this temple was ... different. It was totally locked down, completely unresponsive to our presence. No way in other than a door at its base that refused to open."

He turned to look at Val and gently grabbed the boy's arm. Turning it over, he pointed to the Mark of Eden. "This symbol was engraved on the door of that temple. Now, I won't pretend to know what it means, all I know is what happened next. We decided to try and force our way in with some plasma charges—but before we could set the explosives to detonate, we all heard a voice."

Note narrowed her optics. "A voice?"

"Something on the other side of the door spoke to us. Just two words—and those words are something that I will never forget." Pragley clenched his hands tightly.

"Turn back."

He looked into each of their faces with a grim expression. "Needless to say, that put us all on edge. A Sentinel speaking to you is one thing, but a temple itself? Unheard of. We set up camp instead, opting to stay there and observe the facility for more activity rather than risk damaging it." He shook his head sadly. "We should have listened."

"What happened?"

"There was a member of the team who began to show strange symptoms, Faldan. Good man, if a bit eccentric. After the first few nights, he told me he'd started hearing whispers when he was alone, like hearing his own thoughts breathing down his neck. I was concerned, but a quick check from our medic revealed nothing out of order. I eventually dismissed it as stress from the toll our assignment was taking on all of us.

"He got worse over the coming week. His behavior became erratic, unpredictable. He was jumpy, fidgeting constantly with his hands. He had alarming mood swings, asking casually about supplies one minute and flying into a blind rage the next. At that point, I understood that something was wrong with him. We didn't have the proper equipment for a full medical analysis, so we decided to quarantine him and monitor for further changes.

"His symptoms kept growing more severe, making him paranoid and inconsolable. He started muttering under his breath about the 'slithering' in his head and pointing to the trees, whimpering about how they were watching us. At night, he'd scream as though he was being tortured, crying out that we'd all be 'taken' ... none of us got much sleep after that.

"Then, one morning, he was fine. Claimed he didn't remember much of what had happened, but apologized profusely for his behavior, said he was feeling much better. After several hours with no changes, he was allowed to walk freely. We assumed that our troubles were over, that we'd reached a turning point and could get back to the job.

"That night, Faldan disappeared."

Pragley sighed heavily as he recounted the tale. "When I found him missing in the morning, I ordered everyone to start packing our gear at once. It was clear that we weren't meant to be there. But I tried to find him before we left, hoping there was a way to bring him back and get him help. Went into the woods by myself, calling out his name."

Val glanced at Pragley's hand, noticing it begin to shake.

"I saw something move deeper in the woods, and I still don't know exactly what—but it was fast. It ran from one tree to another, its arms and legs twitching like they were hooked to strings, and disappeared into the forest." The irva shut his eyes tightly. "I ran back to the ship, and we took off within the hour. I don't know if what I saw was Faldan or something else entirely, but I knew that we'd meet the same fate if we stayed any longer."

He sat back in his chair, looking thoroughly exhausted from recounting the experience. "I left that work shortly thereafter, started a new life here, and never looked back. I thought I'd closed that chapter of my life—but when I first saw the Mark on your wrist ..."

His eyes met Val's. "That mark is connected to whatever it was we found on that moon ... and that means you are too."

"Prag ..."

"It's a big galaxy," Pragley continued, "and one that has plenty of secrets. Who knows what other horrors are out there, just waiting for someone to stumble into them?"

Val swallowed hard. The prospect was not a particularly inviting one, certainly not if even half of the irva's recollection was accurate. And yet ...

"But ... that temple might have answers?" he asked quietly. "There might be something there that can tell me who I am?"

Without warning, Pragley reached out and grabbed hold of him, pulling him into a tight hug. Val didn't know how to react, and judging from Ten and Note's faces, neither did they. After a few seconds, Pragley stood him back up and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"I'll tell you who you are, Val," he whispered fiercely. "You're one of us. You're part of my family too, Val—and as far as I'm concerned, that's enough. I've seen people eat themselves up over old history, waste away the years as they look back on what was rather than what could be."

His eyes were fiery, full of admiration and love. "You have a good heart, one full of passion and creativity. I've seen it in the ideas you come up with for the farm, I've seen it in your eyes whenever you talk about seeing more of what's out there, they practically light up the room when they spark."

He placed a finger over Val's chest. "Use it to guide you wherever you go. I can't tell you who you were, Val—maybe the answers are there, maybe they aren't. But no matter what happens, don't let who you were define who you are. Promise me you won't lose yourself."

Val was stunned into silence by Pragley's emotional plea, and felt a lump in his throat that he desperately tried to swallow. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement.

"I promise, Prag. I won't ever forget who I am."

Pragley sighed deeply, sounding somewhat reassured. "Okay. Okay, I'll tell you where to find it."

And then the walls exploded.