***

I send my report, even if I make only a brief mention of the creepy mage. Quicksilver praises its detail – but to my disappointment, they say they’ll contact me in the future, and I’m left hanging.

I feel like there’s too much going on, too much to consider, to adapt to. Corruption in the base. Quicksilver, my mysterious handler. The ever-present cold, the snow. The people, everything seems different and wrong. I need to talk to someone or I’ll explode.

I should be able to keep my thoughts for myself. Intelligence work isn’t for chatty people. I can’t tell anyone about Quicksilver, unless I decide to break contact with them. And who can I talk to anyway? Kaelich tries to listen to me when I talk about the base’s problems, but xir eyes glaze over.

I’m tossing and turning in my bunk, when I hear a voice talking in Zelenian. I’m so surprised, I sit up sharply, looking around.

I’m an idiot - it’s Sorivel, of course. I hadn’t heard him speak Zelenian before, and I wasn’t even sure he spoke it all, since he emigrated as a child. But while his dialect is different from mine, he’s clearly a native speaker. He speaks in a higher pitch than he does speaking Fallish.

He’s sitting in front of the small altar he built in a corner - a stool with two burning candles and wooden icons of the officers. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, shirtless, and next to him he’s placed a brush and a cup of golden paste.

“On the fifth day,” he says, talking slowly, with the solemn tone he uses to quote scripture, “the Ship had landed safely on Refuge, but the crew despaired. For their new world was beautiful, but barren. The air was thin, and couldn’t be breathed. The soil was lifeless, and would nourish no plants. No fish swam in that dark, lifeless sea.

“The Navigator, who for so long had led the Crew across the endless Abyss, gazed upon the world she had found, and her heart faltered. So she went to the Captain, and asked. How can this be our new home? We can’t even leave the ship. Without its Miracle, we won’t be able to breathe, or grow plants, or eat. Did we really travel so long, only to live forever in the narrow confines of the Ship?”

I can’t stand the religious babble, usually, and the Cult of the Officers is so whiny, at least the Lord and Ladies have cooler stories. But hearing Sorivel speak Zelenian, telling a story I heard many times, is soothing, and I find myself listening eagerly.

‘The Gunner doubted, too. Our people won’t be able to grow and rebuild in this barren place, he said. When the Forgotten Enemy comes, we won’t be ready. Did we fight so long, only to hide in the Ship, and wait for the end?

‘Even the Captain, for all her strong heart and keen mind, doubted - even if she wouldn’t show doubt in front of the Crew. They had sacrificed so much, suffered so many hardships, to reach Refuge. A new home, safe from the Enemy. But this wasn’t a home, no more than the dark, frozen planets they had left so long ago. Had she really been a fool, in leading her crew away from the Lost Stars?

“So the Captain asked all her officers for counsel. And the Scientist, wisest of all, said that they need not fear, because in his library, he had kept all the memories of humanity’s fallen home. He turned to the captain and said he could turn Refuge into their new home - if she gave him the Sacred Fire.

“The officers were outraged. The Navigator said: Without the Fire, the Ship could never take off again. The Gunner said that without the Fire, the Ship would be defenseless. The Doctor said that without the fire, time itself would become a sickness. But without speaking, the Captain gave the scientist the First Fire.

“The Scientist held the Fire in one hand, and in the other he held the Endless Book, where he had recorded all the truths about Fallen Earth. All the history and science he had collected and preserved through the long voyage across the Abyss. Then he tore the book, page by page, and crying, he threw the pages into the Fire. As the Book burned, he forgot, and the Library faded, and all humans forgot the secrets they once held.

“But the Fire flared, brighter and hotter than it ever had before, and it spread, engulfing the whole world, remaking it. It seeded the world with life, it changed the air and the water and the rocks itself. The Flame burned rock and left behind soil and seeds. The Flame raged through lifeless dust, and in its wake left plant and animals, from the smallest to the greatest. The Flame burned the sky and the sun itself, changing them, so that days and years would follow the rhythms of our far, fallen home.

“And when it was finished, the Flame was extinguished, the Library burned, and the Scientist himself dissolved into dust - he was the first of the Officers to leave his material form behind, forever becoming part of the world he had made. So we forgot our Old Home, and we gained a new one.”

He makes a pause, then burns a small piece of fabric, painted with golden ink. It burns in a bright flash, without leaving smoke. It’s still a fire hazard, but at least it won’t make the whole room stink.

He sits there for a while, looking at the flame, then he sighs.

“And then,” he says, “since humans are stupid, instead of enjoying the paradise the Officers made for them, some of them moved into a freezing, inhospitable land between huge mountains, because they really wanted to play with the cursed artifacts we’d been commanded not to touch. And so here we are.”

He turns and looks up at me, a small smile on his lips.

I get a good look at his tattoos, finally. I can’t help but stare at the silver bands around his arms. He’s a Redeemed mage - he gave up his powers willingly, and got arm tattoos instead of the facial ones. The bands aren’t exactly ugly, but they certainly don’t try to be aesthetically pleasing. Couldn’t the Council make them a little nicer? It’s supposedly not a punishment.

Those are not the only tattoos Sorivel has. I make out, in the faint light of the candles, temporary white tattoos, Landfall style, around his eyes. I read the shapes for male, androsexual, but there’s a third one I don’t recognize. He also has a golden tattoo on the right cheek, in a weird style, like a square criss-crossed with lines. I’ve never seen one like that in movies, or on the few Karesians I’ve met before. He also has golden glyphs on his chest, recently painted, going down from his sternum to the navel. Those are signs of the Officers, I’m pretty sure.

“Why do you wear all those face tattoos?” I ask. It sounds harsher than I meant, but I can’t help being annoyed - some people in Zelenia have them too, they think them fashionable. But it feels wrong that the one Zelenian I meet here tries so hard to look Karesian.

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He shrugs. “I’ve lived in Greenport since I was ten, you know. I found them strange at first, but I got into the habit. The Captain teaches us to learn the customs of our hosts. Also, they’re nice, once you get the hang of them. You can use them to express yourself, and show what you care about the most.”

“I guess it made sense one hundred years ago, but we have a datasphere profile for that, these days,” I say. “In words that anyone can read.”

“I have that too,” he says, sounding weary. “But tattoos are more personal. The style and position you pick means a lot.”

“It’s a Landfall thing,” I say. I know I’m being judgemental, but I’m annoyed and lost, and at least we can argue in my native language.

“Is it?” He asks. “The tradition is Karesian, yeah. But a lot of people have them these days. You recognize this one?”

He points at the strange, square golden tattoo on his cheek.

“No,” I say. “I know only the most common ones. I picked them up from movies.”

“Well, this one definitely isn’t common,” he says. “It’s Saevish holy script. A prayer to the Officers. Can you put that on a datasphere profile?”

Heat rises to my cheeks. I’m incredibly stupid, I should have recognized old Saevish, it was in every old building where I grew up. And I was being a judgemental asshole. He isn’t trying to look Karesian, I was just too ignorant to recognize the Zelenian-style tattoo.

“Sorry,” I say. “Look, I’m not… the best, with people. But this place makes me cranky. And I’m starting to hate those tattoos. Everyone and their mother has them, and communicate all kinds of subtle implications I miss - it’s like everyone’s playing a secret game I don’t know how to play.”

Sorivel smiles again - briefly, before returning to his usual stony expression.

“I get it. I remember my few years after moving. It’s all wrong - Karesians are so loud and improper and they always assume everyone knows their language and culture. The Sweet Heavenly Doctor knows it was hard, sometimes. And then I got shipped to this frozen wasteland, and the people here are even weirder. They eat fried insects and insist it’s a delicacy! But at least it’s so cold they wear actual clothes. Riverlanders have no sense of shame.”

As he says that, he seems to realize he’s still shirtless, and blushes a bit - it’s not like we never show skin in Zelenia, but you don’t usually have a conversation with an almost stranger without putting something on. That, more than the tattoos, marks him as Karesian.

“Err, sorry,” he says, rushing to pick up a uniform. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But after ten years in Karesia, I tend to forget.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I get people are more… relaxed about showing skin here. I don’t mind as long as you don’t expect me to go around half-naked. And by the lady I’m not going to do the hot bath thing. Wait, do people really do that? Or is it only in movies?”

He laughs as he buttons up his shirt, careful not to smear the fresh glyphs on his chest. “No, Karesians really love their communal baths. It’s incredible how much water they waste here. In Greenport, I would sometimes join, but never enjoyed it much. But this far north, they’re growing on me - soaking in hot water is the one way to feel warm. It feels like the Doctor’s own blessing, and it’s so relaxing. You should try.”

I’ll be buried in the sand before I strip naked and sit in a tiny pool with strangers, that sounds like the least relaxing thing I can imagine. Also, wasting so much water for bathing horrifies me. Even if, admittedly, there’s snow everywhere here, they definitely aren’t going to have a drought anytime soon.

“It’s… a bit hard to settle,” I say, forcing the words out. “This is so different from home.”

“The Navigator will show you the way, if you let her,” he says.

I glare at him, and he looks away.

“Or,” he adds, “if it helps, remember no one feels at home here. The only Vorokans in the base are LT Sareas and mage Jaeleri, may the Abyss swallow them both. Everyone else hates the cold, the food, and the language at least as much as you do.”

I nod. That does make me feel a little better. The fact that Sorivel wants to make me feel better, religious mumbling or not, helps too.

Should I tell him about the missing inventory? Even without mentioning Quicksilver, sharing my worries would help, I think.

But I don’t want inconvenient questions about my reasons to do an inventory check. Or a tirade about the sinfulness of humankind. So I go for something more harmless.

“What about Kaelich?” I ask. I switch to Fallish, because we don’t really have neutral forms in Zelenian, and some people get offended. “Is xe really… what xe looks like?”

“And what,” Sorivel says, suddenly cold, “do you mean by that?”

I know the tone - the when I’m making some social gaffe that starts a lifelong feud tone. Why does that happen all the time to me?

“Xe seems very nice,” I say, and shut my mouth instead of adding if not very bright or professional.

Sorivel relaxes immediately. I note to myself that he likes Kaelich - despite complaining about xir sins all the time.

“Xe is,” Sorivel says. “It’s not an act, and xe’s not trying to get anything from you, if that’s your worry. For all xir many, many sins, Kaelich is truly as kind and enthusiastic as xe seems.”

Oh, he definitely likes the Corporal. I hope he doesn’t have a crush, I hate relationship drama within teams. I glance at Kaelich’s bunk, but xe’s snoring softly - xe really is a heavy sleeper, when we’re off duty in the morning xe barely wakes up in time for lunch.

“What about the agender thing?” I ask. “I don’t want to be rude. But… honestly, I know how it works only from movies.”

I fear another misstep, but he nods.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “it’s a… Karesian thing, they are weird about their gender stereotypes, but you can ignore most of them. The only thing you should take care with is using the right pronouns. There really isn’t much more to it.”

“Why is xe agender, though?” I ask. “Xe looks very masculine.”

Usually, in Landfall dramas, agender actors look somewhat androgynous. But Kaelich is huge and muscular.

Sorivel winces a little, but he doesn’t look angry. “That’s… it doesn’t work like that. I know movies and sims give the wrong impression. But really, you should ask Kaelich if you want to know. Maybe when you know xem a little better. It’s not taboo or anything, but it’s a personal question.”

Great, I’ll live happily without knowing, since I hate personal questions. But at least talking to Sorivel made me feel a little less like an alien. He isn’t exactly friendly, but maybe we can have a decent professional relationship.

“Thanks, Sorivel,” I say. “Sorry for interrupting your prayers.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “I’m devoted to the Navigator, who shows us the way, and asks us to guide others in turn.”

I lay back on the mattress, and roll my eyes when I’m sure Sorivel can’t see me. He seems like a nice person, but couldn’t he be zealous for a less preachy religion?