My first night had been rough and sleepless, despite the quality of the accommodations. The hustle and bustle of Sanctuary 1 never went away. And though the bed was soft, and the decor was pleasing, I’d always found it hard to sleep when people were walking and talking just outside all night long and well into the morning.

A uniform had been laid on the bed, a similar sailor uniform to what the lady at the reception had been wearing yesterday. It seemed only right to wear it. It wasn’t exactly the sort of uniform I’d expected when Vespa had first made a contract with me, but... well, it was better than nothing. And, to my delight, it fit absolutely perfectly. Almost suspiciously so. The material was light but tough, and, well... I had to ask. “What’s it made of?”

Vespa landed on my sleeve to investigate the fabric. “What do you think?”

“...It’s made of chitin, isn’t it.”

“The suit is only slightly alive. Do not be afraid.”

I sighed. Still, I couldn’t exactly complain. It was incredibly comfortable and breathable, despite how rough it looked. I supposed that was what you could accomplish with excellent engineering.

“It’s adjusting to make sure that it’s comfortable for you.”

“Oh. That’s um... how convenient.”

A knock on the door. Nep was here. She was dressed in a similar uniform, a pale gray jacket and dress pants over a white button-down shirt, though her jacket was far more decorated with embroidered patterns and designs than mine. “How did you sleep? The smile on her face told me she already knew the answer. “You’ll get used to it. But for now, let’s get you some coffee. And breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

Nep flashed me a smile. “Of course.”

I hurried to get ready and stepped out into the hall. My room was in a very nice part of the Sanctuary. Here, the wide walkways were carpeted neatly, and the walls were finished with siding and wallpaper. If it weren’t for the total absence of windows and the hum of electric lights, I wouldn’t have even known that we were underground. It was still busy, of course: Angels walking up and down the way, trolleys bearing various boxes and crates being carted from one place to another.

Our destination was only a short distance down the hall. The morning meal was served cafeteria-style. Being a huge organization certainly had its perks. The canteen was yet another large cavern, supported with steel beams and pillars and lit with floodlights. The industrial look was offset by the decor: ceramic planters full of potted shrubs and flowers, and even a few trees. Wooden picnic tables were set up between the vegetation, with people sitting down and chatting over breakfast. To serve all the people in this facility, there must have been dozens of cafeterias just like this one.

The line was moving quickly. The servers were kind, excited to see me and especially to see Vespa. It seemed that everyone knew who I was, or who she was, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. They looked at me as if... expecting something. Perhaps that was right. There was that prophecy, after all. Vespa’s host was... supposed to be important.

I just didn’t feel that I was living up to that.

I felt a craving for something sweet, and so filled my plate with pancakes and (of course) drenched them in maple syrup. What sort of Canadian wouldn’t? I usually didn’t drink coffee, but today I welcomed it.

“Shouldn’t our rooms all be together?” I asked. I couldn’t fathom why we were scattered so far apart in this huge complex.

“Ah, you see, we’re divided up by Flight,” said Nep. “Different Flights for different purposes. Different purposes so that all the Flights can work together for common good. Sanctuary 73 was small, and we didn’t really bother with that. But here... I mean, there are thousands of Angels here. And with the differences in our symbiotes, it only makes sense to have some proper organization.” She held up her keycard to the light. A silvery symbol was printed on it, resembling a cicada with its wings spread. “In my case, Flight Manifold. The intelligence branch.”

I pulled out my own keycard. Engraved into the surface was a single hexagon. “And I am?”

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“Flight Magister,” said Vespa. “Command and control.”

“Command...”

“Oh yeah.” Sarah smirked, sitting down beside me. Her plate was piled high, mostly with bacon. “You’re in Flight Magister. Lucky you.”

“Sarah. How did you sleep?” asked Nep.

“Just fine, thank you very much. Flight Haltere is... just as it always is.”

“Flight Haltere?” I whispered.

“Support.” said Vespa.

“So Flights are like... factions?” I took a sip of the coffee. Bitter. Where was the cream?

“Kinda,” said Nep.

“No,” said Sarah. “Because you don’t choose your Flight. It is assigned to you. According to your symbiote partner, regardless of who you are or what you want. You just have to accept it.”

“You’re being a little uncharitable, Sarah,” Nep said. “Sometimes that’s the case, yes. But usually, if the symbiotes are choosing wisely, the Flgiht should align with the personality of the host.”

“Should,” Sarah emphasized.

“Yes, should,” Nep conceded.

“You’ll see what I mean soon enough, Quinn. I’m sure of that,” said Sarah. The cream was in a cute little teapot in the center of the table. I reached over and poured it into my coffee, taking a second sip. Much better.

“By the way, Sarah,” said Nep. “Did you meet with—”

“Don’t wanna talk about her,” said Sarah. “Not at breakfast, Nep. It’s the most important meal of the day, after all.”

“Well actually...”

“Not now, Nep. Not now.” Sarah looked up from her plate to look around. “Heidi’s not joining us for breakfast?”

“She’ll meet us when we go up to the citadel,” said Nep.

“The citadel?”

“Where the Archangels meet to arbitrate. They’ve got a lot of... or supposedly a lot of things to deal with right now. I’m really surprised, to be honest. Normally, we’d be meeting with them right away. If things are indeed actually busy enough, Hmm....” Nep started muttering over and over again, the little waterscorpion crawling out from her jacket to chitter in her ear.

Sarah sighed. I really felt like I should say something. “Um... do you want to go for a walk after this?” She stared at me like I was crazy. I’d messed up. She was an adult, and I was only a highschooler, after all. Who was I to think that I could help her emotionally. “I-I mean... sorry. Ignore—”

“Sure. Yeah,” she said. “That... that actually might be good.”