Tameka had lost Rayne about five seconds into the description of her first time with Xelan. The girl had gone to her ‘happy place.’ Although, judging by the look on Rayne’s face, ‘lost place’ was more accurate. Tameka continued brushing out her bestie’s freshly washed black hair.

Sagan stared open-mouthed at Tameka, who grinned in return. The almost not-so blond girl repeated, “The ceiling?!”

They’d gathered around the three-bed gray dorm room designed for them to share, as with every Iona. Tameka smiled at the bed her bed which always went unused. Sleeping with Xelan was better than listening to these two snuggle all night.

This girl time mattered, though. At least once a week they washed their hair and spent a day brushing and styling—in Sagan’s case, occasionally bleaching—it together to remind themselves self-care was important. Even in the apocalypse. It had become a light-hearted gossip event. Tameka valued these moments.

But not this one.

A grim shroud was suffocating the fun as Rayne prepared for her mission.

Even so, Tameka refused to dwell on it. She pointed the hairbrush to the ceiling. “You heard me.”

Sagan gaped some more. “Wow…”

Tameka continued, “After that, we talked about the whole almost-being-shot-to-death thing. I’d noticed it had really shoken him up after. He was so sweet about it, being terrified I almost wasn’t saved in time. His eyes even did the thing.”

“It’s a deep emotional response.” Sagan nodded, solemnly.

Tameka bounced with excitement. “Yeah! His eyes do it when—”

“No!” Rayne shouted. Drawn out of her frozen state, finally. She held up her hand as if to ward them off. “I never want to think about that again.”

Sagan, better at compartmentalizing, asked, “Did his wings ever come out?”

“Oh, my god. Please stop!” Rayne cried. The tops of her ears glowed red with bashfulness.

Tameka got straight to it. “Honey, I don’t want to pressure you, but if you’d simply taken Cypher for a ride when you had a chance, these conversations wouldn’t bother you so much.”

Sagan went quiet then. Tameka had lost her back up.

Rayne fell utterly still. Her stony transformation was sucking the fun out of the room. The storm in her voice belied the calm in her posture. “What are we doing right now, Tameka?”

Shit. Wrong button to press.

This had happened on more than one occasion between Tameka and her friends. She often went too far. In the seven, almost eight, years since meeting Rayne, Tameka had lost count of how many times they’d butted heads. They usually made up the same day.

The only exception to that being Rayne’s sex life. Maybe it stemmed from growing up bisexual in a southern Republican state. Or maybe it came from an alien stalker manipulating Rayne most of her teen life. Either way, Tameka knew better than to go there. She said, “Rayne…”

Rayne asked, “We’re getting me ready for a date, right?” Damn her. She was trying to back Tameka into a corner.

Screw that.

Tameka said, “This is not a pity party. Your dating life is your problem you’ve chosen to ignore. I was wrong to poke fun at you about it. I’m sorry. But god damn it, I am not sitting here preparing you as the virginal sacrifice to the dragon. We’re three besties, hanging out, polishing up the knight’s armor so she looks badass slaying that motherfucker. Now let’s force the boy slaves to make us some virgin daiquiris and get us some music going.”

Rayne burst into a fit of laughter between Tameka’s feet, sending a rush of relief through the room. “Boy slaves?”

“Let’s get some cheese and crackers, too. I’m starved.” Sagan rifled through her makeup kit.

“Wingmaster, this is Progeny Alpha Three. Over.” The girls giggled with Tameka as she held the radio, waiting for him to respond.

Xelan’s tone was priceless. Bemused and delighted at the same time, and utterly patient as always. “Progeny Alpha Three… This is Wingmaster. Go ahead. Over.”

“Wingmaster, we require wait staff at Dorm One. Over.” Tameka fell back on the bed snickering into her hands at her own practical joke. It felt wonderful.

Sagan’s face flushed red and tears shone in her eyes.

Rayne fell onto her side on the floor, holding her stomach.

Out of nowhere on the radio came a deep voice. “Peaches, just tell him what you want brought to the room. I’ll make sure he gets it there. He’ll take Star and Rayne’s orders, too. Won’t you? Hey—” Comms went silent.

Full. Belly. Laughs.

They laughed until they cried and rolled out on the floor. Much needed.

After the moment passed and Tameka placed their orders, the girls stared up at the ceiling.

Please don’t start with heartfelt words.

Tameka peered at Rayne, her coloring paler than usual and her expression grim. Tameka opened her mouth to give her a rousing speech, but Rayne asked, “Can one of you cut my hair?”

“Hell no!” Tameka said on a reflex. “No. It’s a sin to cut hair that long and beautiful. How could you even ask—”

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“I’ll cut it,” Sagan answered. “If you’ll cut mine.”

The girls stared at each other over Tameka. They shared something somber which Tameka wanted no part in. She said, “I’ll cut both your hair. Jesus, we can’t let Sagan give you another hack job like in tenth grade.”

Rayne giggled. “My mom was so mad that she called your mom.”

“I’ll admit. It wasn’t my best work.” Sagan shrugged.

Thirty minutes into cutting their hair, a knock resounded. “Progeny Beta One reporting with snacks.”

Sagan snickered. “It’s the Golden God.”

“Come on in, Andrew,” Tameka called.

He walked in all smiles until he caught sight of the blasphemy Tameka was committing.

Andrew cried, “No! I loved it!” Rocking the long, blond lead guitarist look himself, he pouted at the destruction at hand. He’d muscled out a lot over the last four months, and the summer sun had bleached his hair and darkened his skin even through Nox’s Sphere.

Hence the ‘Golden God’ nickname. Though it helped Andrew went everywhere shirtless.

Tameka had asked him once about it, and he’d said, “I get tired of washing blood out of my clothes.”

Andrew set the tray of snacks on a nightstand and the drinks on another.

Rayne kept her head still as Tameka went on adding layers to the mid-length hair. “I’m keeping it a V-cut so at least some of it will stay at her waist.”

Sagan said, “Not me. I want my bob back. So much less shampoo. And it stays out of the way during fights.” She held her ends pinched between her fingers with four inches to cut. Then she peered over at Andrew. “Hey, you want a makeover?”

Tameka shot a glance at him. “We could definitely work with that.”

Andrew grinned at the three of them and peered at Rayne last, asking for permission.

She nodded him over to Sagan, the only one with free hands.

“Yay!” Andrew flopped on the bed with her. “So what have you got in mind?”

He left an hour later with a few tiny, beaded braids littered throughout his hair and his eyebrows groomed. “Do you think Lucas will like it?” Tameka asked Sagan as she cut her hair.

Rayne had left to rinse off a facemask in the locker room.

Sagan snickered. “God, I hope something happens soon. I almost died in the dining car four nights ago.” She paused, then added, “Do we talk about this? About what’s going on? I’m angry and horrified, and I feel like I’m not allowed to talk about it because no matter what I say, it won’t change the outcome.”

Tameka admitted, “I want to distract Rayne from it as much as possible. It’s not good to dwell. This is a strategic move on her part, no matter how bizarre the circumstances. We have to trust her and Xelan to get this job done and get back in one piece.”

“The entire base feels alive with the buzz of it.” Sagan chafed her arms.

Tameka nodded in agreement. “There’s a lot of energy brewing about it.” She leaned around Sagan to give her some eye contact. “But it’s a good call no matter how weird. You know that, right? You trust her?”

“I—”

The door opened, and Rayne returned in a robe. “Sorry I took so long. It’s hard getting into this bra…” With one arm lingered in the air.

Tameka said, “It’s okay, hun. Finish blow-drying your hair upside-down, and we’ll finish as soon as I’m done with blondy.” Tameka pointed to the hairdryer and gave Sagan a pat on the shoulder. “I’m thinking buns. Will you help me with some buns, Rayne? I think it’d look cute if we all matched this week.”

“Oooo do you have any ideas for them? I’d love to help.” Rayne beamed at her. It hurt Tameka’s heart a little given the conversation she and Sagan were having before Rayne returned.

Sagan said, “I think I want to enjoy my short hair for a while, so no buns for me, babe. Rayne, I’ve got some makeup options for you. I can do it while she finishes your hair.”

Rayne said, “Thanks, guys. I—”

Here came the heartfelt

“—I know this is weird.”

Tameka snorted.

Rayne shot her an endearing glance. “Please, just trust me.”

“I trust you’re about to beat his ass, so let’s get you ready to do just that. Sagan, I’m done with your hair. Switch places with me, Rayne. So, here are the buns I have in mind for me…”

Another hour later, Rayne put the last pin in place for Tameka’s hair. Two cute, full buns on top of her head with little red ringlets trailing out. Battle-ready and stylish. During their weekly gatherings, gratitude and love suffused Tameka as both girls learned to help with her 3C curls. Respect and love were beautiful things, and she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather weather an apocalypse with than Sagan and Rayne. And Xelan, of course.

Tameka stood and hugged her bestie. They squeezed each other tight. Sagan invaded, and it became a group hug.

Tameka broke her no-heartfelt-stuff promise. “I love you guys.”

“I love you,” Rayne said.

Sagan added in a muffled voice, “Back atcha”

Breaking apart, the girls discretely wiped the corners of their eyes. After a sniffle, Tameka directed, “All right, Rayne. Get your butt back in the chair.”

Rayne obeyed and sat straight.

Sagan came around. “Is it all right if I start her makeup?”

Tameka nodded, and the girls set to work. After thirty minutes, another knock interrupted them. As more and more people visited the room, it occurred to Tameka they were coming to see Rayne before she left. As if this were their last chance to say goodbye.

A voice behind the door called, “It’s Lucas.”

Rayne answered, “Come in.”

He made it two steps into the room with his bags before he stopped and stared at her. “Firebug, I think these girls did a number on you.”

“And Andrew,” Sagan chirped.

Lucas shot her a grin. “Believe me. I noticed.”

He’d fooled them, but Tameka saw it.

As Rayne played with a small knife in her hand and Lucas hugged Sagan, he glanced at the General with utter concern. He wiped it clean and replaced it with his smiling mask.

Lucas said, “This is for you, Rayne.” He withdrew a black dress from the first bag. “Do you like it?” He grinned the entire time.

“It’s outstanding.” The smile she gave him was conflicted at best. The dress was beautiful. The occasion was nightmarish. “Did you get—”

“Yes, I got everything you asked. I even brought the abomination you commissioned from Kyle.” Lucas held up the second bag, cleared his throat, and added, “He didn’t feel up to bringing it himself.”

“It was his idea. A good idea,” Rayne insisted.

Lucas’ mask slipped just enough to let sadness fill his eyes. “Kyle is very proud of it, but he’s upset with its purpose. I won’t say anymore on the matter.” He set the bags down on the bed. With his back to them, he said, “Not much longer now.”

Tameka placed the last pin in her masterpiece right as Rayne threw her hand in the air and cried, “I’ll be fine! This isn’t the final battle guys. It’s just a rest stop. Xelan will be there. I’ll be fine.”

“Damn straight!” Tameka shouted. “I’m tired of this doomsday attitude.”

“Hell, it might even end tonight as strong as Rayne’s gotten.” Sagan faked a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Bless.

Lucas turned and nodded with his beaming smile. “Absolutely. You’ll get his DNA, and we’ll get you to Enki. Stand up for me.”

Rayne did, and Lucas enveloped her in his arms.

When he stepped back, he looked over her hair, saying, “It’s so darling.” When the girls snickered, he defended himself, “I’m old. Okay. Very, very old. Darling is still a compliment.”

“How old are you?” Rayne asked as she returned to the chair.

Sagan resumed applying her makeup.

Lucas said, “About nine thousand years old. I was born here on Earth before The Vacating. Compared to the Icari you’ve met, I’m still a baby. A very rich and athletic baby.”

The girls giggled. Tameka often wondered about Xelan’s age. He wanted to wait a while before telling her the exact number. He thought it might intimidate her. She said, “You don’t look a day over five thousand,” and gave Lucas a smile.

He returned the expression. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll leave you to your grooming ritual, ladies.”

“What color lipstick?” Sagan muttered.

Rayne replied, “Black, like my soul.”

At the door, Lucas gave one last lingering glance at a distracted Rayne. He caught Tameka watching him and dropped the mask altogether.

As Tameka’s heart broke, Lucas mouthed, “Take. Care. Of. Her.”

“I. Will.”