Mentuc entered his house as quietly as he always did. He had left a sleeping Cassy behind in what would soon be Jane's house, having bundled her up in a sleeping bag. The real construction work was done, and all that remained was putting in the furniture. Over the past several days, as his wife and her friend had been busy watching the footage of Nagalan, he had steadily increased the pace he worked at until he was moving at his normal pace, much to the younger girl's delight. The weather had been right, sunny and dry, and he had explained to Cassy why this was important, explaining the effects of mud and rain on movement and materials. Sam's Vertigo had constantly flown back and forth between the village and the construction site, and he had continuously been swift to unload it as soon as the autopilot had parked itself. He had put out a large tarp, serving as an impromptu cargo bay, and spent a fair amount of time on sorting it out properly. Cassy had begun to help, but her eagerness had earned her a stern remark that she couldn't simply toss the materials out of the Vertigo and onto a free spot on the tarp. Everything had to be organised in proper fashion. She had rolled her eyes and asked why that really mattered.

And so Onoelle's sister had received a very thorough and in depth lesson in the importance of logistics, and how vital it was to any project that the transport of goods, materials and even persons would be executed in a well thought-out , smooth manner. He was glad that she had been an attentive student, one rife with questions and attempts to apply what he taught to her personal experiences. He did not understand why others still claimed her as a child. Her behaviour was often irregular, but as long as one made clear to her that something was important, and gave her the underlying reason, she always paid rapt attention.

She had been quick on the uptake and the few tasks he had assigned her had been well executed. She had taken time to go over the order in which the interior of the house would need to be filled, wrote it down on her datapad, and only then set to work triaging the materials. By the end of it, she was intimately familiar with the items associated with logistical work, such as a cargo manifest, the concept of double bookkeeping, priority lists and the other dozen and one vital details that made the difference between an orderly workspace and chaos.

As his eyes took in the interior of his own home, he wondered if he would have to teach his wife the same thing. He did not need to turn on the light to see the carnage. Empty beer bottles were scattered around, as were the clothes that hinted at a violent struggle to transition from day-clothes to nightwear. He picked both up as he went. Empty wrappers were the next thing to go, as were the dishes holding half eaten snacks. He smoothly went through the motions, unburdened by the need to move slowly. Part of him enjoyed it. He had never possessed Stalker's knack for turning invisible, nor Nightmare's affinity for infiltration, but even so he was adept at it. Onoelle and Jane were out cold on the bed, the one collapsed on top of the other, completely unaware of his presence. Given how strong the scent of alcohol was, he doubted they would hear him even if he made noise. Not that it mattered. It was not his habit to be loud.

To say he busied himself with the cleaning would be a lie. His pace was too fast, the chores too small. The clothes were folded, the trash discarded and the dirty dishes placed in the sink for the day after. He put more coals in the hearth to ensure it'd burn through the night. He cleaned up the bottles, wiping up the spilled drops. He fished the black box out of the bottom of the trash can, used a wet wipe to remove the badly drawn images on it, before putting it in his pocket. Then, very carefully, he tucked both women in properly, ensuring there were new water bottles next to them, as well as empty buckets. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of alcohol intoxication, though the reason why people kept imbibing in it was one he could not understand. He knew why, both Onoelle and others had explained it in detail, but he did neither share their motivations, nor agree with their reasoning.

Perhaps that might change if he had experienced it once, but so far all attempts to bring him to such state had failed. Onoelle had been trying to get him drunk at multiple occasions, which had been pleasant in its own way, as his wife behaved differently when lightly inebriated. Her attempts had consistently failed, as he had told her it would. The few bottles of beers that had been her first attempt, had been replaced by several bottles of stronger spirits. Those had turned out to be equally ineffective. On him, at least. Onoelle had begun to whine, clinging to him with less abandon than ever before —unusual for her, at the time, as they were not yet intimate at that stage— and constantly muttering about the entire thing being unfair.

Ever since then, his professional dislike had warred with seeing his enjoyment of seeing his wife behave so... strangely uninhibited. To willingly diminish one's own reaction time and capacity for thought was alien to him, and no explanation of "how fun it was to loosen up" would alter his opinion on it. The hangover that humans suffered, and irrevocably regretted, only furthered strengthened those beliefs. Yet when his wife was in that stage, and leaned on him, peppered him with soft kisses and other forms of attention both physical and no, strange, pleasant emotions he could not fully describe welled up within him as he took care of her.

And so he did not stop her when the fancy struck her. He did caution her, but to forbid her? No. Never. She was free to make her own decisions. She had once confided in him that she only could allow herself to be put in such a defenceless state because she fully trusted him to keep her safe through it. Words that had caused more of those strange, inexplicable emotions to form within him.

And so he kept her safe. Then, and now.

His chores done, his wife and friend taken care off, the threat of a surprise awakening tucked away in his pocket, he left the house again. In the far distance he made out the barely visible lights of the Vertigo as it began its descent down the road, back to the village, and high above the stars twinkled. It was a perfectly peaceful night, and nothing disturbed the silence that reigned.

And in the middle of that calming darkness, he set off towards Agitana, to acquire his half of the deal he struck with Cassy.

He ran the distance, easily loping across the strengthened surface of the road. His mind was racing, far more so than his body. He had been thinking. He always thought, was constantly planning ahead. Onoelle's simple presence was somehow commanding enough that almost his entire being ended up revolving around her, but even so she had never truly seen the depth of how active his mind was. That did not bother him. He had long since come to terms with humans being incapable of comprehending the speed of a Genesis' thought process. It was, perhaps more so than their physical abilities, what had made them so terrifying. As a civilian he used it for less violent purposes. Their small farm demanded a fair bit of attention, both the fields and the animals, and he had it to spare. Most of the details of what he did escaped Onoelle's notice. How well the seedlings were dealing with the weather, ground water level, rain, temperature influences. If weeds were creeping up. How much every plant grew day by day. How the animals reacted to different types of feed or other external influences. Acidity of the ground and which plants were most suited for it. The level of nutrients left in the soil. He saw it all and logged every miniscule detail, and drew up their day to day plans accordingly.

Then there was Onoelle herself. They were still jointly working on fixing his mental state. His flashbacks, while diminished, had not gone away. There was still a soldier in him, and that part of him did not deal well with being inactive. The less he was kept busy, the more that part of him found time to focus on all the tasks he had failed at. The brothers he had lost. The people he had let die. Those he had been unable to protect. Nightmare had been right, all those centuries ago. Only when his mind was focused on combat, war, or equally occupied, could he shed off the traumatic memories of his past.

Onoelle's existence was valuable beyond what he could express. She held his confidence, his loyalty and, though the expression still felt alien to him, his heart. Emotions were strange to him, despite having felt them intensely the last few years. Leonne had gone from a stranger to a useful asset, then somehow evolved into... Onoelle. Though his face remained unchanged, a feeling of warmth spread within him. It had taken a long time before the full explanation of her name had gotten through to her. As soon as she had gotten it, however...

It was a good memory.

She was valuable to him. Just as valuable as Nightmare. Differently so, but equally vital. She was not necessary for him to survive. Instead she was far more important, for without her he would not be alive. She had somehow rekindled purpose in him. Gifted, not burdened, him with a duty. It had made all the difference. She cared for him in a way no other did, without reason, without cause. The word "love" still was such an alien concept to him. He did not understand it. Could not wrap his head around it.

He did not need to. Just as he had explained the word Onoelle to her, she had explained love to him. And he had accepted it to be true.

But all of that had begun a long time ago. And since then their relationship had stayed surprisingly stable, though he knew that his sense of time was slightly warped, used to the fast paces of war as he was. Now, however, that period of peace and quiet had been shattered. Jane's arrival was like a surprise artillery barrage, utterly throwing his position into disarray. He had revealed more of himself than he had wanted, Nightmare had been reactivated and put on high alert, Jane had been shown parts of a history he had tried to free himself from, and Onoelle... Had stepped into a world she never should have been exposed to.

Anger glittered in his eyes as he recalled the memories with perfect clarity. He grew angry more easily now, his emotions more of a part of him than ever before, thanks to his beloved wife. Then he pushed it back down. Re-establishing control over his mind came easily and natural to him.

And while all that happened, his mind kept going over the plan he was setting in motion. He had watched, learned, listened. He knew far more about the village life than he had let on. Discovered more about Onoelle's past than the woman herself was fully aware of. He hadn't shared that with her, because he knew that normal humans could not handle the raw amount of information Genesis' took in, and there was simply not enough time in a day to talk to her about everything that was on his mind. The important matters he had always discussed with her. All except one.

One plan that he was keeping close to his chest, with only Cassy knowing a fragment of it, and even then he had kept the girl largely out of the loop, though he believed she was smart enough to have figured out most of it on her own.

It was the first time that he had hidden something from her and part of him felt guilty about it. His mind had long warred on it, but in the end he had made the choice to let his emotions win out, for once. Just as he had done so long ago, something about it felt right and he had decided to move on that.

Even so he hesitated as he reached the village, his increased breathing the only sign of his exertion. His mind ran over his justifications, his reasons and his beliefs again as he snuck past what few civilians were still awake, before arriving at the house of Lady Helena. The aristocratic woman was known as strikingly attractive, but also as quite the "loose fox". It had taken him some research to understand that definition, and even then the answer had left him with more questions than he had started with, but she possessed certain skills. Skills he wished to acquire. Skills he was willing to pay a great deal for, as Cassy's new saddle had revealed. Skills that would allow him to, for once, surprise and even shock his wife. On purpose. A minor, but vital distinction.

He put his inner turmoil aside and knocked on the door.

It creeped open, and a pair of eyes took him in, quickly widening. White teeth were flashed in a smile, one that reached her eyes. "Such a late visitor," she tittered. "Normally I wouldn't open my door this late at night, you know." She threw him a sultry wink that bounced off him, before opening the door more, revealing a very light choice of dress. "But for you," she giggled, "I'll make an exception."

Several long hours later, Mentuc snuck out of the village once more. Helena was simultaneously sad and glad to see him go. She remained seated in her lounge chair for a good while, granting her trembling muscles a measure of rest. She'd never quite met a man like him. On one hand he was a quick student, absorbing everything she taught him at a speed that defied belief, yet on the other... There was something mechanical about it all. As if everything he performed was a pale, if perfectly executed, imitation of the real deal. It lacked emotion, drive... Perhaps even certainty. She could not precisely put her finger on it. The determination was there, as was the desire to do it right, but what it lacked was soul. He performed every step, from start to finish, as a surgeon rather than an artist.

Still, she had thoroughly enjoyed the session. And was looking forward to the next. Perhaps she could teach him the difference over time. There were worse ways to spend the night than with a strong, reasonably attractive man. And he paid well to boot.

She reached for her pipe, willing her exhausted body to stop shaking so much, and managed to both stuff it and light it with only minor difficulty. As she enjoyed a long pull, she wondered, her eyes full of mischief. Should she inform Leonne's parents about this? Or the town gossip? On one hand it could be dangerous. On the other... She did love drama, after all. And the pair of them were just so adorable.

It would be so delightfully delicious to see the storm unfold.

Cindy watched as more of Nemesis trickled back into Margelheim. The system was already fit to burst, and yet more and more vessels kept pouring in. Each vessel that entered realspace was greeted with promises of well earned R&R, repairs and refits, medical care, and a lot of after action reports. Verloff personally contacted every captain to congratulate them on a job well done, and got more details from them in the process. He didn't need to, as reports would summarise the information for him regardless, but she knew he wouldn't budge. Sleep could wait. The man wanted to know how many more souls had been consigned to the beyond. The retreat from Novican space had been a harried one, Nemesis having to extract itself after having run a chaotic, close quarters gambit that had kept the Novicans from simply overrunning them. Had Nemesis' crew not been as good as they were, had the Novicans not been so shattered, it likely would have ended in utter disaster. Verloff himself had wanted to stay until the last, as the rearguard of his battlegroup jumped to safety in every direction they could, before sneaking back to allied line. It had caused the two captains to put aside their differences for once, and they'd knocked him out cold. Even so, the Blackest Night had taken several weeks to get back home and the Citadel had left a trail of coordinated destruction in its wake. Which translated to Verloff having slept an average of four hours a night, only for him to cease sleeping entirely as soon as he returned. He ran on concern for his men, determination, willpower and no small share of stimulants.

She wondered how she could accurately write down that level of dedication in her reports. Especially since she was missing her left arm. Typing with only one hand slowed her down considerably, and the ineffectiveness of it annoyed her to no end. She'd needed to get it seen to, sooner or later, but she had no time for rehabilitation just yet. "Still", she considered, "All in all a small price to pay given the size of our victory." And it kept her distracted from bigger worries.

"Quite so," Giliam dryly agreed. He was a fair bit older than her, and had made his disapproval of her decision to tag along with the Genesis known quite thoroughly. Every stab he could take at her, he took. If that meant berating her for the loss of an arm, than that was what he did.

Cindy found his attempts amusing. She didn't pull rank on him, wouldn't even think of doing so. NavInt was too close a family for such silly things. "You be good now, Gil," she shot back with a sly, patronizing smile. "Or I might just let your location slip to Dalan. A little birdy told me that she's been looking to accidentally bump into you."

The man let out a hearty chuckle in response. He hadn't told her what transpired, but it had not been a difficult thing for her to ferret out. "My agents reported that she did hold back after our chat, so it appears my words did hit their mark." He pushed his chest up a little as he spoke. He knew his methods were often considered fairly brutish by the standards of his colleagues, but he prided himself on getting the job done quickly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Think that's going to make her reprisal any softer?"

"Oh no", he laughed, shaking his head. "I think I'll be pummelled all the harder for it."

She returned his laughter with her own, perhaps a bit too forceful. Giliam took note of it. He turned around in his chair so he was facing her, an expression of mild concern on his face. Few things could genuinely disturb the officers clad in black, and he knew her to be a veteran despite her younger age. His eyes glanced around their office. There were several rooms in their little corner of the planet, every single one heavily reinforced, fully soundproofed and well protected. There was little in the way of furniture or decorations. If it wasn't for the strong lights overhead, the place would have been dark and dreary. As it was, it was merely dreary, yet the people toiling endlessly inside it paid it no heed, enjoying their work and each other's company. Just beyond the door were a platoon of NavInt security, along with several hidden security measures.

And despite all that, a shiver ran through his back at seeing the Admiral in that state. It wasn't the foes outside the Empire that concerned them.

"Was it that bad?"

"Yes," she replied, standing up with a brusqueness that belied her words. She fixed her gaze on him, and he found steel in it. "It's Genesis. Voids damned Genesis."

"I read the reports..." he began, only to be interrupted by her furiously raising an arm, then taking a step to adjust her balance, the lack of her other arm throwing her off.

"That's the damned thing," she said. "Reports do not do it justice. You can't imagine how utterly dangerous they are in battle until you've lived it." She waited until she saw understanding appear in his eyes, before continuing. "There are two things I want you to know, Gil, you and everyone in NavInt." She held up a finger. "The first is that they should never be judged as humans. Their psyches are alien. They are like computers. Capable of incredibly complex thought at mind-boggling speed, performing inhuman feats without even acknowledging them as such, and they only slow down when forced to interact with actual humans." She saw his fingers dance over the screen of his datapad, writing down every word she said. She raised a second digit. "The second thing is that they are, and I give my word on this, loyal to the orders they receive. Or their programming, rather. They had every opportunity to take me out without even attracting suspicion, but Verloff, who had operational command, had ordered them to bring me back alive, and so they did, to the point they were willing to sacrifice themselves to save me. Nothing I asked of them was met with a lie or an omission of truth. They didn't side-track, didn't abstain, for any question asked they would irrevocably give me a straight and clear answer. They told me that they are physically incapable of lying, and I tested them on this. I believe that they are right, barring any hidden programming inside their heads."

"We'll need to have either Sci-ops or Bio-Ops to take a look at what's possible in that regard," Giliam nodded, his fingers finishing their furious dance. He hadn't broken eye contact even once. "Sounds like they're pretty impressive. I take it that means you're moving onto their creator next?"

"Yeah," she sighed, allowing herself to crash back into her chair. "I asked one of them about their purpose. To protect the Empire. Sounds fancy, doesn't it?" She shook her head, a weary smile on her face. "I asked him to define it. What I received was an exceedingly long lecture about battle strategy. They're..." She chuckled. "They're so straightforward. They don't see grey at all. Everything is black and white to them." She gave him a smile. "Would that our job was that easy."

She got up and stretched, deciding she could use a small break. "I'll be taking Havel with me. The Genesis will be returning to Eisel's location soon, where he's busy reverse-engineering the Kra'lagh tech. I'll be with them. Same rules as before, I die or don't report back at the allocated times, Eisel's a threat and must be dealt with." A small smile broke out on her weary face. "Though I doubt it'll come to that."

"Yeah, I figured. Verloff seems rather fond of you, and he's going along as well, isn't he?"

"Verloff not rushing off into the next war?" she muttered, surprised. "That's a first."

Giliam shrugged. "Not really. Nemesis is pretty battered. Don't count on them being out long, though. Spider's got them in his web."

"The Spider's here?" she asked, sharply turning around. It wasn't the man's real name, but it was a nickname he was almost unanimously addressed with. Despite being only a Major, officially, the man held enough power to call even gung-ho Admirals to a halt without blinking. Even NavInt treated the man with far more respect than his rank warranted. If Verloff was a fleet admiral of unequalled ability, then the Spider was the same for the logistical end. "I thought he was supposed to be near the Kra'lagh frontier, overseeing our automated defences?"

"He's supposed to be, yeah," Giliam grinned. "Reckoned he felt the twitches of the threads and came here with an entire supply fleet in tow. About two days after the Novicans hit us here. I only got a day's warning on it. He must have rushed here like mad."

She nodded. "That'll be the Spider. Can't hide any troop movement from him." Then a grin unfolded on her face, splitting it nearly in half. "That means he's likely with Verloff right now. If you'll excuse me Gil, I have a party to crash, and I hope I'll get there on time."

Verloff swallowed back his words as Major Colet shook his head. The Spider's eyes were dancing around, almost as if the man was a Genesis freak himself. He was juggling four datapads, three of which had been sown into the left sleeve of his uniform. "Three months and a half? No, Admiral. Far too long. Not that unprofessional. Sixty-eight percent of required materials are here already. Rest will arrive in the coming week, along with more engineers and factory ships. Refit should be done within two months, top." The man spoke with cut off words, a thing Verloff had gotten used to. Nobody knew just quite how many things the logistics officer juggled in his head, aside that they were legion.

"Look Spider, I'm grateful for your presence, really, but I have to ask, how did you know about this?" he asked, stupefied. He liked the man well enough, trusted him with his life, but the man simply should not have been here. "This was classified and I know you don't have the clearance."

The Spider glanced at the Admiral, as if he was measuring the man was worth the expense of time to give an answer. "Clearance irrelevant. You took three Battlegroups into battle. Logistic trail as large as a nebula. Not hard to follow. Harder to miss."

"The damned requisition forms were also classified."

"Original ones were, yes, back up to fill in the gaps your demands left, were not. They left holes in the reserves. Easy to see if you've got the experience." He pushed a datapad into Verloff's hands, before pulling a new one out of his pockets. "Summary of delivery orders, arrival dates and who to pass shipments on to. Noticed your back-up calculations for eventual refit were absent. Assumed it was deemed to large to cover up that on top of original demand. Called NavInt, they confirmed. Decided to arrange delivery personally to avoid delayed transport of goods." He paused briefly and shot the man a look that was equal pride and annoyance. "Not easy. NavInt wasn't very cooperative. Had to call in some favours. I made it work." He paused again, pulled out another small datapad and held it out in front of the Admiral. "Sign here."

Verloff took hold of the datapad with a sigh, read the content and, for a brief moment, toyed with the idea of waiting for his quartermasters to confirm the delivery of the goods. Then the impatient tapping of the Spider's foot began to ring through the room, and Verloff decided to just sign the bloody thing.

"Thank you. Must go now. Material expended for satellite defences was outside expected parameters. Must be fixed," was all the Major said before retreating at something closer to a run than a brisk walk. Verloff could only shake his head. The Spider still took him off guard. He knew the man had a security clearance that already belied his rank, but even so, Colet had a knack of finding out things that were supposed to be kept hidden. He didn't need to tell people about operations. He simply found out by following the trail of goods. It was a surprisingly well kept secret that the Spider held as much power as he did, and the main reason it wasn't known was because the man himself simply did not care. He was one of the rare few who lived and breathed his job, uncommon even within the Empire. And he did it with such skill that even NavInt and the Admiralty let him be. He was unorthodox, strange, was often caught bending the rules and regulations, but his ability to get goods where they were needed, when they were needed, no matter if aforementioned goods were available or not, or whether the people in question even knew they needed anything, was legendary. And most people never even realised it was happening. Shortages, folk noted. Heroic efforts to keep everything normal, were not.

And now the man was going to be attached to Eisel as well. Repairing Nemesis was but a small sidetask compared to the gargantuan task of rebuilding the entire Imperial fleet to fight the Kra'lagh, and for that they needed the best. So the Spider had been asked. Not ordered. The man tended to wander off at times, and trying to order him would only result in him putting his hackles up, as he saw it as people getting in the way of his work. Verloff was pretty sure the only reason that NavInt did not grant him higher clearance was purely because it would make the entire "game" too boring for Colet's liking. The man thrived on overcoming challenges.

Still, despite the Spider's strange behaviour, his dislike for orders and his habit of running off whenever he so fancied, the man was too useful to be coralled. "Two months for the refit, I'll be damned." He knew a fair bit of logistics as well, a vital skill for any commander, but this was next level. Suddenly he knew that he needed to make Genesis get in touch with the man. If they could apprehend even a fraction of what Colet knew, then their future arsenal would be expanded tremendously. Logistics were an essential skill to any officer.

He logged it in his to do list, then sat back down at his desk. There were still a handful of his ships out there, and he would not rest until they were all back home, or confirmed as lost. And then there would be endless after action reports, taking up stock of the damage taken and damage done, meeting up with the other Admirals, going through reports of the Novic Confederacy, …

As the old saying went, there was no rest for the wicked.

The final reports had finally been processed and Admiral Verloff had called in one final meeting to discuss the result of Operation Angry Comet. NavInt, present in the form of Admiral Cindy, Vice-Admiral Giliam and Specialist Havel, shared the large room with a dozen Admirals, fleet and sector alike, dozens more lower ranked officers, the three Generals who had led the ground invasion and, naturally, Lieutenant Dreamer and the newly christened Sergeant Nightmare. Cindy knew that Colonel Girault and her staff were not too far off, having stayed close to the Genesis in order to continuously tinker with new designs, whilst improving existing ones. The Spider had already left again, roughly a month ago. He had stayed exceptionally long, which was highly out of character for him. Cindy had found out, for once not through subterfuge but simply by measure of asking Dreamer directly after having a hunch, that Verloff had pushed the Genesis onto the man in a bid to get them to learn logistics. A suspicion had begun to form in her head, one she had not yet shared. Those thoughts had been further strengthened by Verloff himself inviting the Genesis over, after the Spider's departure, to play virtual wargames with them. If true, if that was truly the end goal of the Genesis Project, than it would have grave repercussions for the Empire. Whether those would be good or bad, she could not yet tell. She supposed a lot would depend on how her meeting with Eisel would go.

For now, though, she got to bask in the smiles and happiness of the victorious party. It's good to be Imperial, she grinned, allowing her own satisfaction to become visible. Beside her, Giliam relaxed a spell as well, and Havel went from standing at attention to standing at ease. The man hadn't smiled much since Lufer. Likely wouldn't for any time soon, either. But he was solid. And while his face didn't betray anything, there was a subtle twinkle in his eyes that spoke that he too was relieved to see the Empire triumph, as it vindicated his personal sufferings.

It wasn't an official meeting, as such things went. It was more of a post-victory celebration. Food and drink were aplenty and the atmosphere was relaxed rather than tight, even though every discussion was about something professional. Cindy contented herself with sitting in a corner and watching things. Had her affiliation made her less approachable before, the effect was now heightened with a prosthetic arm hanging from her shoulder. It worked well and while she could have had the prosthetic look more biological, she enjoyed the way people glanced at the mechanical part. Really enhanced the "evil spook" image.

The only people in the room who had matched her menacing presence were Eisel's creations, but even they had found themselves outmatched for once. General Shivran had all but rushed over to the two Genesis, and his enthusiasm over their performance overcame any unease their inhuman behaviour caused. His presence caused a few other officers to relax somewhat as well, and soon enough a small crowd had formed around the superhumans, who reacted to being surrounded and pelted with questions with their usual indifference.

She took a sip from her drink, eyeing them carefully. The mainstay of her focus was on Nightmare. The woman had underwent some remarkable changes on the planet, and it seemed to have affected her relationship with her superior somewhat. In what way, she couldn't quite tell, but the woman no longer gave him those confused glares that were specked with annoyance. There was something else in them now. Not emotion. The Genesis simply didn't do that. She shook her head, a rueful smile forming. Whatever subtle streams that were hidden within the seemingly calm waters of their command structure, it affected their performance none. The final tally was still being updated, but the reports had been met with flat out disbelief, until she had affirmed them. Not that she blamed anyone. They'd been on the planet for weeks, all without suffering a single casualty. Wounded aplenty, sure, and many heavily so, but every Imperial who made landfall had been extracted alive. Novican losses were... Well, hard to estimate. Nagalan was lost, though, and that mattered. She, nor any other officer in the room, had regarded the devastated planet as a home of billions, but as the logistical lynchpin it strategically was. Had been. Goods still arrived in massive amounts from deeper within the Confederacy, but without a centralised point? Everything was a total mess, and deliveries took ages to reach their destined targets, causing many fleets to go dry. They were no longer a threat.

She noticed Verloff looking at her from the corner of his eyes, his trademark wolfish grin carved on his face. She permitted herself a broad grin in turn, and lifted her glass in toast. The Empire had lost, losses of Perseus, Icarus and other defence forces counted with, somewhere upwards of five million two hundred odd thousand people. Not all reports had fully come in yet, and the hospitals were still running ragged with wounded. Novican losses, on the other hand, even excluding those killed on Nagalan, were estimated at forty-eight million. Including Nagalan, those numbers got bumped up into the billions, though the Novican's own actions contributed no small bit to those astronomical numbers. It had been a long while since the Empire had claimed that many lives. It'd be a grim reminder to the other powers in the galaxy that they were not to be trifled with. She hoped it'd scare them into behaving. Otherwise the tally would go up a damned sight more.

But that was a concern for tomorrow. For now they got to enjoy their victory. One threat eliminated. So many more to go.

Jane woke up, the sun having progressed enough to pour light through the window and directly onto her face. She let out a pained groan, softly cursing the world, the existence of alcohol, her friend, her husband, and everything else that deigned to pop up in her mind. She blinked slowly, before uprighting herself and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She caught sight of a bottle of water next to the bed, and reached for it, the parchedness of her throat making itself known to her. As she greedily gulped it down, Leonne let out a groan that was an exact copy of her own. She didn't get up to, merely rolling to her side. Her arm went out as she batted it around, until finally finding the bottle on her side. Without a word, she tore the cap off and emptied it in a long series of large gulps, before tossing it away.

She let out a chuckle. "That seemed like a practised move."

Leonne groaned in response. "Less then you'd think."

Jane grinned in response, the sight of her friend being miserable alleviating her spirits. They both laid there for a good while, waiting for the pounding in their heads to recede. She didn't think. It was enjoyable, almost, to just lay there and not do anything. Her blissful rest was interrupted by the sudden, pressing need to relieve a bodily function. She forced her legs out of the bed, and immediately began to swear a blue streak as she hit the bucket that had been placed there. Muttering angrily to herself, she picked it up and put it aside, glad that it was empty and hadn't caused more of a mess. Then she finally got up, and immediately froze as she looked around in the room.

This was not the first time she and Leonne had ended up drunk. Back when they were still students, they had occasionally celebrated things, and usually taken them too far. As such, waking up to the aftereffects of such a momentary lapse of proper judgement was something she was familiar with. What she most definitely wasn't used to was seeing the room spotless and properly cleaned up. Her mind began to kick itself in gear, even as her legs carried her to the toilet, moving on autopilot. It didn't take long for her to reach the answer to her query. A room that should be a mess magically cleaned up? Bottles of water and vomit-buckets at the ready? Not having seen a damned thing? Check, check and check. Leonne's monstrous magic husband had been at it again. She felt conflicted about that. The thought of him roaming around while she was out cold was...

Huh.

Not as stress inducing as she had thought. Maybe it was the aftereffects of alcohol clouding her mind, or the visceral footage of literally thousands of people being brutally massacred, or the fact that she'd seen plenty of evidence of Leonne handling him like an oversized puppy, or...

Or because I'm no longer brainwashed to hate anything Imperial, she though with a shudder. It was a frightening thought, powerful enough to instantly banish any lingering intoxication from her mind.

Then another, more powerful feeling made itself known, and she narrowly succeeded in reaching the sink. Any further thoughts in her head were violently ejected as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

Onoelle grimaced as she finally conjured the will to get out of bed. She staggered over to the bathroom, paying no heed to the unlittered floor, and was about to knock on it and demand what was taking so long, when a series of retching noises accompanied with a cry that was filled with pain and regret filtered out through the door. She decided that maybe she didn't need the toilet all that badly. Instead she settled for going outside for a bit. Some fresh air might do her good.

Within seconds of her opening the outer door her husband popped up, one arm outstretched. Cassy was clinging to it, determination warring with exhaustion on her face as she struggled to climb on top of it. She smiled at the sight of it. After everything she'd been through the past days, it was nice to see something simple and heartwarming. She watched her husband as he neared, keeping his arm steady to not throw the girl off. Going by how utterly covered in mud her clothes were, she'd already hit the dirt on more than one occasion so far.

She shook her head, gently to avoid stirring the headache lurking behind her eyes, and once again found it remarkable how different the personalities of Mentuc and Dreamer seemed to be. She knew better than to believe they were not one and the same, and yet there was something that separated the two. Even as he greeted her with a soft voice, and carefully brought his free arm around her, unsure of how well she was, there was nothing that hinted at the man holding her so tenderly, that he had committed such atrocious crimes. It felt like purely academical knowledge. She lifted his sunglasses and looked into his eyes, watched the eternal dance of his lenses. The way he took her in with that subtle hint of wonder, as if he couldn't fully believe her presence. Nothing in his movements hinted at anything other than kindness and love. She darted forward and gave him a light peck on the lips, unable to resist the temptation.

And yet she knew he was still the very same Genesis that had terrorised the galaxy centuries ago. She'd seen him resurface when Jane had threatened him. It was only briefly, but the soldier was still very much present. It wasn't a personality disorder, her husband knew damned well who he was, but it was more a radical shifting of priorities. He did not want to fight, had no desire to be violent and harm others. He was perfectly happy to be a good husband to her, and a caring older brother to Cassy. He did not need to be a soldier.

Her sister finally began to pipe up, having finished her excruciating climb to the top of his shoulders, and the pair of them began to bicker, with Mentuc being content to just sit back and observe. She pushed the last thoughts about the day before out of her mind, the task made easier by the lingering aftereffects of the impromptu drinking fest of the night before. Instead she settled on looking at her husband, and she finally noticed that there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He wasn't just observing her with the usual love and wonder, as sappy as that sounded, but there was something new there. She was unsure if it made him appear as the hunter, or as the hunted.

"What's wrong?" she began, immediately kicking herself for asking. It had to be related to this damned surprise he was planning. She recovered smoothly, giving him another kiss to shut him up. "Did Cassy hammer down screws again?'

"Hey!"

"No," came his simple response. She could see him thinking and a shiver ran through her back. He was fast, so incredibly fast. She hadn't covered herself as smoothly as she'd thought. She knew he had seen through to her, that she knew he was hiding something, but he chose not to respond to it. Another shiver ran through her, this one more pleasant, as she allowed him to hold her more tightly. She had never expected to find someone who could understand her so deeply. Who could accept her so completely, without holding back. Or that she would be able to do the same in turn. Neither of them were perfect, both of them had their baggage, but they had made it work. A love formed out of genuine appreciation and respect for the other. Sure there were issues, struggles, points of discussion and, on her end at least, shouting matches, but neither of them were going to abandon the other over something as silly.

And as such, no matter what his surprise might entail, he had her trust. Jane would likely question her sanity for trusting a man with a hidden "surprise", given her personal track record with men, let alone if she, void forbid, ever figured out that he was the monster from the past, but she was an adult with her own opinions. Mentuc wouldn't harm her. Not now, not ever.

But what if he did?

It was a tiny voice, one she'd gladly strangle if she could. She hated it. She trusted Mentuc fully. He held her heart just as surely as she held his, and her belief in him was unshakeable.

Yes, the tiny voice nagged. But what if?

Her need to answer was put on hold when Cassy, now firmly entrenched upon her throne, decided to clean her mud-covered hand with her hair. All her annoyance at the tiny voice was violently shunted into this new outlet, along with all the anger the continued present of her hangover had accumulated. She let out a primal, warlike scream, as she felt the thick, wet earth attach itself to the strands, and, in a very unwomanly move, launched herself at her younger sibling, who immediately slid down Mentuc's back.

It turned out to not avail her much, as Onoelle leapt half over, half on top of her husband, and grabbed her sister's shirt before the girl could make good on her escape.

By the time Jane exited the bathroom, feeling much refreshed now that the contents of her stomach were no longer weighing her down, she was greeted by a mixture of screams, yells, shouts, and a stern voice interjecting once in a while. Clearly the Gyhad siblings had been at each others throats again, and Mentuc was babysitting the lot. Deciding that the sight would be undoubtedly worth it, she skipped changing clothes and walked outside. The moment she laid eyes on them, a grin wrestled itself to the forefront of her face and no force could have stopped it.

The two sisters were pouting, covered in mud, as Mentuc was methodically hosing them down. She had arrived just in time to catch the tail end of his admonition. "—because you are not dragging it inside the house." She burst out in giggles at the sight. She knew her friend would immediately seek vengeance, but she couldn't help herself. Leonne looked like a very miffed wet cat, soaking wet as she was. Cassy merely looked miserable, shivering and glaring at Mentuc as he finished up washing the mud off her.

Her vision immediately came true as Leonne let out a hiss and darted for her, the intent to tackle her into the ground all too visible in her eyes, but before the woman could take a third step, Mentuc intercepted her and yanked her back. "No," he simply stated. For a second Jane expected him to spray her with the nozzle, but apparently he didn't prescribe to such jokes. Instead he simply held her close to him as he declared Cassy free to go, and began to rinse his wife's hair, causing her to resume her angry mewling. Cassy immediately darted inside the house and made a beeline for the shower, loudly slamming the door as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Shaking her head and still laughing, Jane bade a retreat of her own, and decided that she'd give a shot at making breakfast for a change.

By the time she was done with making eggs and reheating the leftover bread from the day before, the rest of the gang had showered and changed into dry, day clothes, leaving her the only one still in her pyjamas. Mentuc and Onoelle were the last ones to exit the shower, and they were whispering animatedly to one another. Something about whose turn it was and why an interruption was or wasn't allowed. She paid it little heed, instead focusing on the damned eggs and trying to get them to not stick to the pan, while avoiding Cassy who kept darting around as she set the table in an endless whirl of energy.

Soon enough everything was ready and they began to eat, Mentuc quickly making the coffee and tea she'd forgotten about. She raised her eyebrows when he asked Leonne if it counted. Leonne quickly explained that they'd set up a system where they each took turns doing household chores, and that Mentuc was a stickler to it. The snort that explanation caused was smothered when the man in question gave her an intense look, causing Leonne to laugh in turn, before they turned to discussing a million and one other things, her new house included.

She was surprised to discover that she genuinely enjoyed the entire thing. Despite everything that had happened to her the past weeks, the sudden shocks, the traumatic events, her world being turned upside down, the un-brainwashing, reliving the ancient past through combat footage, and the strange-ness of her best friend's marriage, she felt happy. The sort of happiness that came with living life at its fullest. It was a deep, intense feeling of content that warmed her heart and stretched itself out from her toes to her fingertips. Life, she concluded, was good.

The conversation ended up in a sudden lull when Mentuc subjected her to an intense scrutiny, one that made her feel like a prospective employee being interviewed by a bunch of people who already made their mind up. She tried to muster her courage and look at him, but fell short. And so the surprise came all the harder when he finally spoke.

"I think," Mentuc began, pronunciating the words slowly and carefully, "that, if Jane is willing to help, it might be time for us to begin planning a visit to the city." He moved his perforating gaze away from her and onto his wife, suddenly seeming a lot less imposing and even unsure. "That is, if you—"

Any further words were smothered as Leonne let out a cry of concentrated, pure joy and jumped him from across the table, causing the other two to leap for the falling plates.

There was much she still didn't get, but that was alright.

After all, she considered once again. Life was good.