The darkness within the carriage was thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint, rhythmic pulse of the biocrawler’s machinery. Lady Bhaeryn, Bee, lay amidst a cocoon of velvety blankets and pillows, her frail form trembling as she whimpered softly. Her pallid, purple-hued face was slick with sweat, and beneath the thin veneer of her skin, a grotesque, worm-like coil squirmed unnervingly. The parasite’s movements drew an involuntary shudder from her as her body rebelled against its unwelcome guest.

  The sudden creak of the carriage door brought a beam of light slicing through the dark, harsh and intrusive. Bee gasped, her eyes fluttering open and immediately narrowing against the brightness, a pained sound escaping her lips. The door closed again, sealing the light away, and the chamber returned to shadow.

  Vashante knelt carefully amidst the bedding, her imposing form somehow softened in the act of lowering herself beside the stricken Lady. Her mechanical half-face reflected what little dim ambient glow permeated the air, the plates forming her expression shifting subtly as she studied Bee with something approaching tenderness.

  “Have you been able to rest?” Vashante’s voice was low, resonant with her mechanical timbre, yet laced with genuine concern. She reached out, the cool tips of her mechatronic fingers brushing lightly against Bee’s fevered brow. The gesture seemed to draw some small comfort from Bee, though her response was weak.

  “No,” Bee murmured, her voice barely audible. “They won’t stop… talking.”

  Vashante’s expression tightened, the edges of her cybernetic features shifting minutely. She didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. She knew the writhing parasites infesting Bee’s nervous system constantly whispered, their alien communications invading her mind, robbing her of even her autonomy. Vashante imagined the cacophony that must echo within Bee’s thoughts, and a flicker of anger crossed her face—not at Bee, but at the cruel invaders that had turned the Lady’s own body into a nest.

  “Vash,” Bee whispered after a pause, her voice trembling. “Please, can you… hold me again?”

  For a moment, Vashante hesitated, the dark cameras that passed as her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. Then she moved with deliberate care, lowering herself fully onto the bedding and positioning Bee so her head rested against her lap. Vashante’s hand moved to Bee’s hair, her fingers weaving through the damp strands with a precision born of caution. Each stroke was deliberate, ensuring not a single strand snagged on her mechanical digits. Nevertheless, her touch was an anchor amidst the torment coursing through Bee’s body and mind.

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  The carriage rocked gently as the biocrawler traversed the uneven terrain of its descent, biomechanical limbs adapting in lurches to the shifting ground. The vibrations, normally unnoticed, seemed magnified in the tense silence between the two women. Vashante’s voice broke the stillness. “You are safe,” she said softly, her words carrying a weight of assurance that seemed to ease some of Bee’s trembling. The Lady’s breathing steadied slightly, though her grip on Vashante’s leg remained tight.

  “I cannot stay long,” Vashante said after a moment, her voice quieter now, almost apologetic. Bee’s body tensed at the words, and a small whimper escaped her as she clung there.

  “No,” Bee whispered, her voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

  “I have to. We have to,” Vashante said, her fingers continuing their soothing motion through Bee’s hair. “The bannermen of the Hash family have arrived at the terminal. We must confront them.”

  Bee’s eyes fluttered open briefly, her gaze clouded but searching. Vashante’s tone remained even as she explained, “I cannot fathom why they are here. Diplomacy, war, a deal for arms, territory, or servants… Perhaps mere rank opportunism as we march. But we must face them.”

  Bee’s lips moved as though she were trying to respond, but whatever words she sought to form remained unspoken. Vashante’s gaze softened further, her mechanical expression adjusting to convey a shadow of human empathy. She leaned closer, her presence as steadying as her words. “I have dealt with them before,” Vashante continued, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “And, whatever they have come for, I fear this will not end well. But you are safe. I will make sure of it.”

  The room seemed to close in around them, the oppressive atmosphere pressing against Vashante’s shoulders. Yet she remained steadfast, offering Bee the stability she desperately needed. Bee’s grip on Vashante’s leg faltered slightly, the effort of listening and holding on sapping her strength. Her eyes closed again, her head settling deeper into Vashante’s lap as exhaustion overtook her.

  Vashante continued stroking her hair, her movements steady and precise, offering what little comfort she could as the biocrawler’s stamping filled the air. Outside, the faint echoes of marching footsteps and grinding machinery hinted at the massive force gathered beyond the walls of the carriage. The City beyond was still moving, the world still turning, its demands relentless.

  For a time, Vashante remained. But such a time could never last.