The pain in her head was as equally vicious as it was annoying.
To call it a mere migraine would be an understatement of insulting proportions. It was a relentless drum beat, a volley of scalpels within her skull rhythmically stabbing at her temples and forehead. Each throbbing heartbeat brought forth a fresh wave of suffering, each pulse another test of her fortitude. Her head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and there was no relief to be found even as Elster leaned back against her chair and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was also a familiar pain, however, and it was that lone comfort that held her back from displaying a more extreme reaction. The last forty-eight hours had seen her through some of the worst headaches she had ever experienced in her short life. Her current agony, while severe, was no worse than the deliberating mental assaults she had previously undergone.
It did not mean she was accustomed to the suffering — far from it —, but at the very least she could tolerate it enough to not scream and curse in the presence of company.
Amidst the silent endurance of her mental throes, Elster felt something: A silver of foreign influence slithering upon her thoughts, formless and hissing with intent. It acted without malice, however, shepherding the gnawing thought-strands within her mind and subduing them piece by piece. With each bite, the pain in her head alleviated by portions, until the torment degraded to mere discomfort.
The Replika opened her eyes, and saw the FKLR with a palm outstretched in her direction. If Elster focused, she thought she could hear the faint traces of a melody in the air. The Commander smiled apologetically. “This is the best I can do for you. The Song is not kind to those it sensed to have intruded upon its influence without a Mask.”
“A little less vagueness would be appreciated, Ma’am. I think I had more than enough of that for today.” Elster massaged her temples, before politely adding: “But the help with the pain is much welcomed. Thank you.”
The Commander chuckled. “I apologise. I have a bad habit of defaulting to the more esoteric and superstitious terminologies when the ambient Bioresonant saturation levels are too extreme.”
With another flick of her finger, the FKLR levitated a tome over from one of her many bookshelves. Elster eyed the gold-gilded, leather-bound title warily: ‘The Resonant Phenomena’.
“How much do you know about Bioresonance?”
“Practically nothing.” It was hardly a shameful thing to admit; the secrets of Bioresonance were well-protected by both the Eusan Empire and Nation. If there was one thing the two incompatible governing bodies share, it was that the study of that enigmatic power was to be kept strictly outside the domains of the public.
The tome flipped open, revealing a page marked as ‘Synchronicity’.
“Even after decades of study by some of the greatest minds within the Eusan system, Bioresonance remains ill-understood at best, and a complete mystery at worst,” Falke remarked. “I suspect the only two living beings who may even come close to a rudimentary understanding of the phenomena would be the Empire’s Grand Empress herself, or our Nation’s Great Revolutionary.”
Elster frowned. “But the Great Revolutionary is not a Bioresonant.”
“In so far as the Nation claims.” Falke shrugged. “But no one knows for sure, so I will concede to your point. However, at the very least, I believe we can agree that to have spearheaded the rebellion, our leader must have possessed a keen level of insight into Bioresonance. The FKLR models were said to be her design entirely, which would not have been possible without knowledge of the Song’s secrets.”
Again with the occult names… “Why do you keep calling Bioresonance the ‘Song’?”
“Because that is exactly how Bioresonance is perceived by those who are sensitive to it. Those who are gifted, or made to be gifted, can not only hear its melody, but even manipulate it to perform feats that defy the physical laws. In the old text, we called these individual Mask bearers.”
Masks… Where had she heard the term used before?
Who are you?
You who wear no Mask,
And yet have slipped into the embrace of my tattered robes?
Elster hissed. The pain suddenly re-doubled. Falke sent her a sympathetic look and intensified her efforts to remove it.
“You caught the attention of something you shouldn’t have, I’m afraid,” Falke explained. “Like I said, the Song doesn’t like those who listen in without wearing a Mask.”
“You make it sound like it’s a living thing.”
“‘Living’ might not be the entirely correct term here…” The foreign influence in her head cleared off one final swathe of pain before retreating. Falke smiled. “Better?”
Elster hesitantly nodded. “It still hurts, but it's much more bearable than before. Thank you. Ma’am.”
She hastily tacked on that last honorific when she realised how casually she had been speaking to the Commander. Such disrespect towards a superior, especially one as high up in the chain of command as a FKLR, would have been grounds for punishment if not outright execution.
The Commander sighed. “Just call me Falke, El. There’s no need to worry about rank or hierarchy here. Given everything that has occurred between us, something as trivial as that is barely worth caring about now.”
That did little to assuage Elster’s worries. “AEON might have something to say about that,” she darkly murmured. Even with the Commander’s tacit consent, the Nation's abhorrence of anything even resembling disrespect or insubordination would risk seeing her decommissioned.
“I’ll sooner burn AEON to the ground than let them hurt you, El,” Falke bluntly said, her confession taking Elster by complete surprise. “I am no longer so blinded by loyalty and dogma that I can forgive all the Nation’s failings.”
“The kiss I gave you could not have been THAT good.”
Perhaps it was her headache making her bolder, or the shock of hearing the Commander's outrageously seditious confession that made her lips looser. Whatever it was, Elster couldn’t help but feel she was failing the reputed stoicism of LSTR units Nationwide with her repeated, unfiltered impulsiveness.
The serious expression on the Commander’s face softened into open amusement in the aftermath of Elster’s thoughtless comment, before laughing when Elster blushed and tried to stammer an apology.
“You should take it as a compliment, then. The LSTR that seduced the FKLR from the Nation with her lips,” Falke teased as Elster’s embarrassment doubled. “For now, try to rest a little. The after-effects of the Song are still present in your mind. Drink a little more of the wine to ease the pain.”
Falke blinked as a thought occurred to her, before a playful and excited grin spread across her face. “Actually…”
While Elster sat there and silently nursed her headache and mortification, the Commander had decided that the conversation warranted the need for stronger refreshments. A twist of her fingers had her brought forth the bottle of expensive brandy to bear, accompanied by a beautiful pair of crystal glass snifters.
Elster eyed the drink. The Replika had noted the expensive bottle earlier, but looking at it up close revealed a level of exceptional craftsmanship that she wasn’t expecting. Her sharp eyes lingered on the elegantly curved and intricately decorated design, and noted how the sleek glass vessel bore tell-tale characteristics of hand-blown artistry rather than a machine-made quality. The contents were framed by a crystal-clear surface, purposefully allowing the rich golden liquid within to shimmer with an almost hypnotic allure.
Under the ruthlessly pragmatic environment cultivated by the Nation, art was an indulgence rarely tolerated. The fact that the bottle was both clearly hand-made and so beautifully ornamented was already sending alarm bells in her head.
“Should you really be wasting the likes of that on me?” Elster questioned as her analytical gaze continued to study the bottle. Anyone could see that this wasn’t simply a mass-produced or widely distributed vintage. Elster would have even thought it contraband, if not for the detail that the drink was so openly displayed within the FKLR’s office.
Given the Nation’s intolerance of frivolities and strong alcoholic beverages, the sight of a bottle of hard liquor so finely and opulently crafted was a blatant sign that the drink was not one to be squandered.
Falke shrugged. “Who else am I to share this with? Adler abhors alcohol, and my position leaves me with few others to accompany me. You are not suggesting I drink this all by myself, are you?”
The drink wares float and move independently with but a sliver of the FKLR’s concentration. The bottle’s cap twisted off, and a rich, nutty aroma filled the air as the two snifters were prepared neat and presented before them.
“I don’t think I wouldn’t mind that, if it were me,” Elster murmured. Despite the headache demanding most of her attention, the Replika couldn’t resist picking up the crystal glass that floated over to her, filled with an appealingly dark, amber-hued liquid.
To her surprise, the glass felt comfortably warm – heated by the FLKR’s Bioresonance, such that the temperature would help release the drink’s aroma without spoiling the taste. Elster lightly swirled her snifter and brought the glass close. The scent was delightfully delicious; a heady blend of dried fruits and toasted nuts, mixed with subtle hints of vanilla and caramel intertwined to delicate touches of oak and spice. “This smells… incredible.”
Even with Elster's non-existent experience in tasting liquor of any kind, it was clear that the drink must be prohibitively expensive. It could not have been produced locally, as the dilapidated state of the colony left little doubt that it lacked the proper distilleries to produce something this fine. “Where did you even acquire something like this? It must have cost a fortune.”
“The bottle is from Heimat itself, if you can believe it,” Falke replied, shocking Elster. “Meticulously perfected over decades of ageing within the colony’s unique gravitational and Bioresonant environment.”
“Heimat has a Bioresonant atmosphere?” Elster had never heard of such a thing before. Aside from being lauded as the heart of the Revolution and the home to the Nation's Great Leaders, little else was publicly known about the moon that orbited the Ringed Planet. “I thought Buyan was the only colony to have one in the Eusan System.”
“It’s not a well-known fact, but hardly obscure to the higher echelons within the Nation, or even the Empire. The moon is famous for its role as the capital of the Nation. That it also hides a secret beyond its symbolic importance should not surprise.” The Falke gave her a mischievous smile, as if she were about to reveal something private. “You see, it is rumoured that the moon was the birthplace of the Revolutionary herself, and that the event was how the colony gained its unique Bioresonant property — Similar to how the Empress turned her birth planet into a Bioresonant World.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Synchronicity.
A pair mirrored.
Falke studied the bottle as Elster stared at her, wide-eyed. “As for how expensive this bottle is… Well, I wouldn’t know. It was given to me as a gift.”
Elster shook herself off her stupor. “Must have been a really important occasion, then, to receive something like that as a gift. Who was it from?”
It was most likely the Adler from before. He was the only one that Elster could think of who might have the connections and capital necessary to secure such a luxury good. Given how devoted to the FKLR he had shown himself to be earlier, it was not a huge leap in logic to deduce he would also similarly try to earn her favour through material means. Compared to someone like Elster, who could barely scourge up enough to afford something even a tenth as valuable as the bottle, the Adler held the clear advantage.
She didn’t know why the thought of that made her feel irritated and insecure. She set the ugly feeling aside and focused on the Falke, who was looking at the bottle with a fond smile. The sense of inferiority re-doubled, and the displeasure must have shown on her face. The Falke glanced over at her and smirked, making Elster freeze up.
“There’s no need to look so jealous,” she teased. “The individual who gave it to me was a fraudulent and distasteful person. I have no love nor affection to spare for the likes of them.”
That… was not what Elster had been expecting. In the face of such a visceral response, her earlier distaste for the male Replika was rapidly replaced with pity and a strange need to defend him. “I mean, he’s not that bad, is he? You were even vouching for him earlier.”
Falke frowned, confused. “What?”
“What?” Elster echoed.
There was a pause, before Falke slowly asked: “Who… do you think I was talking about?”
Oh. So she wasn’t talking about Adler, then. Elster realised her blunder and promptly remained silent.
Seeing as she was unwilling to say more on the matter and embarrass herself further, Falke sighed and explained. “The Nation. It was the Nation who gifted me this bottle.”
“Ah.”
“It’s standard procedure, actually. They give one to every FKLR on the day of their ‘birth’, as a bribe of sorts.” Falke smiled wirily. “Based on my experience so far, it’s most likely that whoever my original Gestalt model was based on, they had a liking for brandy as well. It's quite ingenious, as far as subtle means to nurture loyalty goes.”
Better than what I got, Elster thought. All she had received was a number designation and a work order the moment she was deemed fit for service. “And you are wasting it here? On me?”
“It’s hardly a waste. Honestly, El, you should give yourself more credit.” Falke lightly chided. “Now, come. I’m excited to give this a taste.”
The Falke hovered her glass over to her hand and raised it. “To your health.”
“Replikas don’t get sick.” I really need to stop running my mouth, Elster thought. What was with her today? She was not normally even half this disrespectful.
But… being with the Commander… it felt different. She didn’t know why, but in Falke’s presence, she was more uninhibited, less self-conscious. The other Replika had said earlier that the two of them had met before, in whatever bizarre scenario that had led to her maddening affliction.
But the Commander never explained just who Elster was to her, or what kind of relationship they had shared.
Falke rolled her eyes at Elster’s cheeky comment. “And yet you look ill enough to kneel over at any time. Hopefully, the drink will remedy that.”
The both of them took a sip. There was a pleasant hum from Falke, while Elster was completely taken aback. “This is–!”
The palate did not disappoint. The liquid held a velvet-like texture and deceptively remarkable depth. Aromas of ripe apricots, chocolate, and hints of exotic spices unfold gracefully on her tongue. The sheer richness of the taste, the complexity of the flavours that lingered even after the burning warmth rushed down her throat and left her tingling in place… just from that single sip alone, Elster could easily say that it was the best thing she had ever tasted.
“Above average.” The Commander remarked with a pleased smile.
“Above average?!” Elster exclaimed in disbelief. Empress be damned, the drink had been so good, she had almost felt sorry that someone as lowly as she was allowed to taste it. “Your standards are ridiculously high. What would you even rather be drinking?”
“I could think of a few things,” Falke murmured without thinking, before blushing and coughing into a fist. “I mean, I admit it’s good, but hardly what I would call spectacular. In fact, I managed to share a vintage merely a few months ago that easily triumphed this breed of mediocrity.”
Elster raised an eyebrow. “Another bribe?”
“It was, actually. Except that bottle was given to me while I was still in charge of S-23, and it came from someone a lot more savoury and pleasant than the one who gifted me this bottle.” Falke's grin took a clandestine turn. Normally, the sight of that would have irritated Elster, but the warm feeling the drink had placed her in was too good a mood for her to care. “A pity you weren’t there. I have a feeling the individual I shared that with would have liked to meet you as well. Are you feeling better now?”
The Replika pondered for a moment. Her headache was mostly gone, partly because of the drink, but mostly because the pain itself had somehow faded out during the course of their conversation. But to admit that aloud might cause Falke to stop pouring her that heavenly ambrosia, which would be an unacceptable shame.
“I’m not sure. Let's go for another round, and I'll tell you afterwards.”
Falke laughed as Elster unabashedly took another eager sip.
-
Drinking might have been a mistake.
There was no denying that the brandy tasted fantastic — Elster could barely stop herself from taking sip after sip once Falke gave her full permission to enjoy the drink to her heart's content. But one thing that the eager Replika had failed to account for was the liquor’s absurd alcohol content, nor her unfortunate lack of tolerance.
It was only her second cup, but her face and neck were already heavily flushed, her eyelids drowsy, and her speech slowed and occasionally interrupted by hiccups.
“You know, you are surprisingly endearing like this,” Falke murmured before taking another leisurely sip. Unlike Elster, the FKLR did not appear even remotely inebriated. “I must also admit that I didn’t think you would become intoxicated this quickly.”
“It’s a - hic - strong drink.”
“It’s been one cup, El.”
“Y-yeah, but it’s one cup of brandy, not watered-down wine or ale. And it’s hardly a small cup, either!”
Falke shrugged. “I’m feeling fine.”
This woman… The Commander tried to hide it, but Elster could see the smug look of superior in her eyes. “Okay, first off: You are bigger than me, so that comparison is hardly fair.”
“Sounds like a proficiency shortfall to me.”
Elster squinted. “Did… did you just make a pun?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, El. FKLRs do not make puns.” Falke lightly chided, eyes dancing with amusement. “What’s the second point?”
“Well, you said that this bottle was gifted to you specifically at your ‘birth’, right?”
“Yes…” Falke drawled, not seeing where she was going with this.
“That means the bottle is rated specifically for FKLR consumption. While I can’t be certain of this, isn’t it likely that your superior Replika model would possess a higher tolerance against foreign compounds, and that in turn your ‘gift’ would be similarly altered to be stronger to counteract that increased tolerance?”
Falke blinked. “That is… a surprisingly well-thought-of excuse for your current state of inebriation.”
Elster glared at her. “It’s hardly an excuse if it's true…”
The Commander tilted her head at her strangely. “Are you… pouting?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Falke. LSTRs do not pout.” Elster echoed the Commander's earlier words.
“If only I could take a picture to remember this moment…” Falke whispered softly, expression ruptured by Elster’s altered state, who blushed further under the Commander’s gaze and looked away.
“I’m going to get mad if you keep teasing me.”
“I’m not sure how much more of your adorableness I can take, honestly. Maybe I should steal your drink away? For both our sakes.”
Elster glared at her, clutching the snifter closer to her chest while making sure not to spill a single drop. “You already have yours. Gluttony is a sin, you know.”
“So is drinking more than you should. But fine, I will not deny you your fun, especially since I was the one who offered it in the first place. I could probably clear away your inebriation later anyway. It would not do for AEON to see you wander around the base later in your lush state.”
That was good to hear. Elster already had enough rumours to contend with without adding ‘giggling alcoholic’ to the list.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Falke said. “How goes your mission to search for the spies within Rotfront?”
Ah, right. The report was part of why she was even summoned here in the first place. But what can she even say about it? She had barely found anything.
“It… goes.” Elster finished lamely. Nail it. “Should we really discuss this while I’m drunk?”
“So you do admit you are drunk.”
At Elster’s unimpressed stare, Falke relented. “Fine, I will stop teasing. But the reason I am asking this is because I doubt you have found anything substantial enough to warrant a full report. I would just like a quick insight into your thoughts on the mission so far.”
Well, if she insists…
“The mission — hic — is stupid.” At the FKLR’s questioning look, Elster elaborated. “If we are looking for suspects, then just about half the colony falls into that distinction, since nearly everyone is unhappy with AEON’s handling of Rotfront’s dysfunctional condition. While the unease hasn’t blown to full insurgency, the situation still allows any of our presumed perpetrators to easily hide among the dissenters.”
Falke considered her words. “And what about your visits around the different apartment blocks to repair the satellite relays? Have they unveiled anything about the initial instigating force that spearheaded the protests?”
“From what I have observed through my interactions with the locals, the unrest reached its breaking point approximately six months ago, but that no guarantee of a timeline for when our supposed Empire spies infiltrated the colony. They could have easily been around for years beforehand, integrating themselves within the community while silently plotting things and waiting for the right trigger to incite chaos.”
“Why do you assume it is an external infiltrator, rather than a local within the colony?”
Elster hesitated. “Just a gut feeling. I could be entirely wrong, but…”
The Commander waited patiently for her to articulate. “The people here, they feel too soft,” Elster admitted. “It could be because I am only interacting with them after the Protektor’s harsh suppression over the last few weeks, but even considering that, I don’t believe they would instigate the same level of violence seen within the corpse pit images. There have also been no clues relating to the strange yellow-spiral iconography shown in the earlier briefing.”
Elster continued her explanation as Falke silently considered her words. “We had initially assumed that the goal of the culprits behind this mess was to eventually incite a full rebellion of the colony, thereby diverting AEON’s resources from the war. But with the conflict now at a halt and the Empire’s forces in decline, the timing of it does not make much sense. It could be the work of a lone Empire agent or task force gone rogue, but frankly, the motivations and end goals of such a group do not match the actions found so far.”
“Which means it might not be an Empire force we are dealing with at all,” Falke concluded. Elster nodded mutely. It was one thing to make that disturbing deduction in the confines of her own mind, another to voice it out and have someone agree with her. The implications were unsettling.
Elster took a long pull from her drink, emptying the glass completely and savouring the taste of honey and smoke pouring straight into her veins. Falke raised her glass to hers and followed suit, finishing her snifter with nonchalant elegance.
Despite the brandy belonging to the Commander, she had allowed Elster to set the pace for its consumption, only drinking and finishing her glass whenever Elster did. It made their session feel strangely companionable, despite the stark difference in rank and power between them.
“I ssshould probably sstoppp,” Elster slurred, feeling heady as the effects of the drink were finally beginning to overtake her. “How sstrong even issh that? F-f-fourty — hic —, f-fifty percent?”
Falke levitated the bottle over and read the label, before wincing. “It’s probably better if you don’t know. Although you might be glad to hear that you were right; the drink was specifically rated for FKLR units and their higher tolerances.”
“Yayyy…” Elster weakly cheered. Was the room spinning? Had the room always been spinning? “I told you s-so…”
“I should have probably checked first.”
“P-proably, yeaah…”
A pause. “... Do you want more?”
“... Yes, please.”
Many more bad decisions were made that day.