Ark savored the scene of Mino having fun with the kids for a moment longer, before he gently pushed through the crowd and caught Mino’s arm. “We gotta go, Mino. Hera only gave us 15 minutes to get to Respite. I don’t want to know what she’ll do if we’re late.”

“Oh sh…” Mino stopped himself and looked around. The gleaming eyes of the children were all on him. Clearing his throat, he said, “Right, I’m sorry everyone. We have to go.”

The children let out a collective ‘Aww’, until someone perked up and said, “don’t let her cut your head off!”

“I-It’s not going to get to tha—“ Mino tried laughing it off, when another chimed in.

“Keep your hands close, or she’ll chop’em!”

That made them all laugh, and Mino tried to laugh with them, but both he and Ark started to get cold sweat running down their spines. They were joking, of course, but it was only funny because there was some truth to it.

“We really gotta go, bud,” Ark pulled at Mino, who nodded and tried to follow, but was stopped by someone still holding on to his leg. Bess now had both arms and legs wrapped around it, and her face buried in the rough fabric of his pants. Mino gave Ark a look, until he stepped away so that Mino carefully could pry Bess off and kneel down in front of her.

Her face was a mess of dirt and tears, mixed with snot in smudged patches. Mino pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and wiped it off, without a moment of hesitation, smiling gently as he worked.

When she looked half-way decent again, and the sobbing had reduced to sniffles, Mino spoke to her gently. “You’ll be alright, Bess. No one’s gonna hurt you here, I promise.”

“B-But th-the b-boss is so scary,” she stammered, trying to maintain her relative calm.

“Yeah, but she takes care of us,” said a kid, standing beside her. He reached out and patted her on the shoulder, “She’s scary, so no one thinks they can mess with us.”

“Just wait ‘till some of them gangsters come knocking,” another said, joining the first kid at Bess’ side, “They are scared shitless whenever they got to deal with us!”

More kids joined in, and at the end, Mino didn’t have to say anything else. Bess gradually calmed down, until she even managed to smile. “Thanks, Mino,” she said, shyly looking down to the ground. After a moment, she looked up at where Ark stood, and said, “And thanks, Ark…”

“Don’t mention it,” Ark said, waving to the side, “We really gotta go, though.”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” Mino gave Bess one final pat on the head, then stood up and jogged after Ark, as they set forth at speed. The kids ran along, jumping across the littered field of the scrapyard as if it was an advanced training course, before they—one by one—took off in different directions, back to their stations.

Ark increased the pace, running down into the open area of the scrapyard, among the broken remains of ships and gliders, crossing it quickly. They rounded a corner, marked by a wide pile of electronics, then ran up a ramp into one of the old ships, through it and out the other side. The passage was lit by blinking lights, leading out of an old loading bay into a wide area with no junk or scrap in sight.

There she was.

She had once been a magnificent cruiser, capable of transporting over a thousand troops, outside of its standing crew of five hundred. Shaped like a mantis ray, its wide wings had held cannons capable of shredding through daemon shields like bullets through butter. At the assault on the Red Moon, she had run reinforcements five times back and forth between Vanguard and their forward positions, allowing the riftwalkers to maintain momentum and successfully overrunning enemy positions.

When the moon had imploded, she was caught in the blast and ripped in half. One half was lost to the abyss, but the other lay here; a monument to what had been sacrificed.

Built in the early days of the war, her name was reflected by the general emotions that her builders had toward the enemy. It still bore that name proudly, even now, as its paint was well maintained by its current inhabitants. Above a modified entrance into its metal hull, it read: “SPITE”

In front of the name, in a more rough hand, the letters RE had been attached as a prefix, giving the orphanage of Respite its name.

Ark was, as always, transfixed by the sight of the ship that now served as the home for the children of the scrapyard, and of Hera. Mino had to physically drag him forward, reminding him that they were on the clock. Shaking his head, Ark straightened his priorities and sped across the open area to the main entrance.

They got right up to the door, reaching out to open it, when it swung open to reveal a young woman with a freckled face and red hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Both Ark and Mino jerked back in surprise, unable to stop themselves.

“Sammie?” Ark said, blinking at the sight of her.

She looked from one to the other, her green eyes sparkling with humor. “You’re late,” was all she said in response.

Mino and Ark looked to one another. Then Ark said, very carefully, “No… I think we’re still within our 15 minutes.”

He was barely able to react when she suddenly lunged forward and punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and sending him to his knees. For the second time that day, Ark puked up the empty contents of his stomach.

“Eww, gross,” Sammie complained. Ark managed to look up and see her threaten Mino with her raised fist, “You want some as well, big guy?”

Mino raised his hands and carefully backed away. “I don’t want to fight you, Sammie?”

“Yeah? Then why are you so late?”

“What do you mean… late?” Ark gasped, trying to get back up on his feet. He failed the first time, but the second he managed to get up on one knee.

She threw up her hands and stalked over to him, looming over his short frame as she began lecturing. “I mean late, late. What, you never call, or visit? You just slip out one day, and then we never see you guys again?”

Confused, Ark placed a hand on his head, trying to make sense of things. “But… you left as well?” They had held a farewell part and everything for her, Ark remembered.

“Sure, but I didn’t leave the district,” she said, shaking her head, “But apparently you two are too good to be duskies.”

“That’s not what people here are called,” Mino protested, somewhat lamely, and he got a pointed index finger in his face as a response.

“It is now,” she said, “Cause I said so.” She kept the pose for a moment, Mino going cross-eyed staring at her finger, before she laughed and hugged him. “Aww, I can’t stay mad at you, you lovable ox. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Sammie” Mino said, very careful not to do anything that might shift the mood of the volatile girl.

“I know, right?” She grinned, then turned to Ark and served him with a rude gesture. “You, though, gotta do a lot more to be forgiven.”

“Why… me?” Ark still heaved from the assault.

“Because you’re sneaky, and Mino’s not—that’s why.”

“What does that even me—“

“Samile, are you keeping our guests from paying me my due respect?” A frosty voice seethed out of the main entrance, sending chills down Ark’s spine.

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“Sorry, Mom,” Sammie yelled over her shoulder, then grinned back at the two of them, “You’re in trouble.”

“We know,” they chorused, and followed her inside, where a wide corridor opened into a main chamber. Most of the furnishing here were post-war, added over the decades as the ship had been turned into a home for Hera and her growing orphanage. It made it a mish-mash of impressions as wooden chairs and tables stood beside utilitarian seats without any padding.

Coming to stop past the entrance, they finally came face to face with Hera, as she awaited them at the other end of the room.

She was just as Ark remembered her; gray-hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and blue eyes so cold they could make your heart freeze up with too much eye-contact. Her expression was always intense, as if she was just waiting for someone to bust in the door and start a fight, and she wore practical clothing that would suit exactly such a situation.

The image of combat-readiness was somewhat diminished by her thin frame, and the fact that she was sitting in a large wheelchair; her lame legs slightly tilted to the side. It was an image that would fool the uninitiated into thinking she was a weak old woman.

No one made that mistake twice. Usually, because they were dead after the first.

“Well, well,” she said, spreading her wiry arms out to the side, “My prodigal sons return to the nest. Have you come up with your excuses yet?”

“No excuses,” Ark decided, keeping his head held high, “Just the honest truth. We’ve been struggling to survive, Hera.”

His words were punctuated by a sudden rumble from Mino. His stomach churned out the kind of garble that only a full day’s work with no food could entice. Mino scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed expression, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” Hera said, her expression turning into a frown.

“Times have been tough,” Ark said, shrugging, “There are a lot of kids out there who haven’t eaten today either.”

“They will tonight,” Hera said, steel in her voice, “Apparently, some anonymous donor found it in their heart to give a seizable donation to my little enterprise.”

Ark and Mino surreptitiously looked at one another, although Ark was sure Hera saw straight through their subterfuge.

“Come, we’ll have some food, then you’ll beg for mercy.” It was a command as clear as any Ark had ever received, and for once, he did not mind it. It was good to be back.

Without any visible input, Hera’s chair turned on its own, and started down another corridor, toward a dining room.

“Hmph,” Sammie snorted, “You got off easy.”

“They’re not out of trouble yet,” Hera said over her shoulder, “You, girl, aren’t entirely yet either. Joining the Fingers was not on my list of approved jobs.”

Ark and Mino both looked at Sammie with wide eyes. “What?” She said, looking from one to the other.

“You joined the Fingers?” Ark said, disbelieving.

“Yeah? So what?” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Are you three coming, or will I have to drag you along with me?” Hera said, from further down the corridor. All three of them jumped and hurried to follow her, falling into step behind her wheelchair.

“Why would you join the Fingers? They’re first on VISOR’s hitlist,” Ark said, eying Sammie as she marched beside him.

“I don’t have to defend my choice to you,” Sammie retorted, sticking out her tongue at him.

“No, but you do have to answer to me,” Hera said quietly, turning a corner and moving through a doorway into the dining room. That shut Sammie up, and she looked sullenly at Ark, as if it was his fault she was being admonished.

They entered the room behind Hera to find a square table already set up up dishes and food on it for all four of them. Hera moved to the side of the table without a chair, while they Sammie and Mino were quick to take the seats on either side of her. That left Ark having to sit straight across from the most terrifying woman he had ever known.

Swallowing, he took his seat and waited for the first, verbal attack. It did not come. Instead, Hera gestured toward the food at the table. “Eat first, then talk. I don’t want any bickering either, that goes double for you, Samile.”

They did as they were told, and dug into the food in silence. It was no impressive feast; a clear soup with vegetables and slight traces of meat, with some home baked bread at the side. For a hungry stomach, though, it was divine.

Ark took his first bite, and for the first time all day, he felt whole. Unable to restrain himself, he gobbled his first portion down in an instant, then went for a second helping when a bony hand grabbed him by the wrist.

Taken completely by surprise, Ark tried to jerk his arm back, but Hera’s grip was made of steel. He looked into her cold eyes, wondering what he had done wrong, when she said, “What happened to your arm?”

Blinking, he looked down at his left arm, where crystals were still lodged into it like scales of a fish. It felt like a lifetime ago, but only this morning he had been completely paralyzed by pain from the wounds he had received during his summons to the Ashlands. Now, he barely registered discomfort at Hera rotated his arm to look at it from all angles.

When did it stop hurting? He thought, feeling a slow dread overcome him. So much had happened since then that he had been distracted.

“It was… erh… an accident,” he said, knowing it was a lame excuse. Hera clearly did not buy it either. Her cold, blue eyes bore into his for a long breath, before she released his hand and nodded

“I see,” was all she said. “Now, explain why you sent that girl to me.”

Ark did as commanded. Hera allowed him to tell of how they had found Bess in Lowtown, then she asked Mino for details, and at the end of it, she massaged her head in contemplation.

“We did not mean to trouble you. We just thought she deserved a chance,” Ark said, as honest as he could. Mino nodded along, while scooping out another serving of soup. He was on his fourth bowl, and showed no sign of stopping, which was good. Ark had been afraid he would refuse to eat, considering the state of the children they had met outside. However, knowing their donation would ensure their upkeep, Mino’s reservations had been allayed.

“You always mean trouble, Ark,” Hera said, a note of irritation in her voice, “But at least I believe you had no idea about what was going out here.”

“We honestly didn’t know,” Mino said, his face a mask of worry, “What’s happened, since it’s turned out like this? I think we would have noticed if there were that many orphans appearing in Lowtown.”

“That’s because they’re not all from Lowtown,” Hera said leaning back and folding her arms.

“What then? MidCity?” Ark scrounged up his face in confusion, “That can’t be right. They got much better facilities up there than here.”

“They do, but they’ve figured out a nice trick, see,” Hera sneered as she looked upward, toward the perpetrators, “Who’s going to notice if an orphan goes missing? If they’re still in your books, but you don’t have to feed them, that’s a tidy profit. And if, somehow, they’re lost in Lowtown, outside of your jurisdiction, they’re no longer your problem. Neat, isn’t it? What VISOR officer is going to believe a child that comes up to them on the street and says they belong topside?”

The crunch of glass made them all turn to Mino, whose tight fist now bled from the glass that he had held in his hand while Hera was speaking. Sammie looked at him with wide eyes and reached out across the table with her handkerchief to quickly dry away the blood.

“That’s not—“ Mino’s eyes were red, and his voice trembled as he began to talk, when he was swiftly stopped by a slap to the back of his head. A metallic claw had seemingly grown out behind his chair to deliver the blow. Hera the followed it up with sharp rebuke.

“What are you doing making a mess at my dinner table, Mino? Do you think cups are worthless, since you can just crush mine as you please?”

“N-No, I just…”

“You just thought you’d demonstrate your petty feelings to me? Well thank you, young man, I’ve seen it now, you can calm down,” she scowled and threatened him with her small fist, as the metal arm disappeared back underneath the table, “Pathetic.”

“Stop it, Mom. Mino’s right to be angry. I’m angry as well—that’s why I joined the Fingers in the first place,” Sammie said, still holding the handkerchief to Mino’s fist.

“Yes,” Hera’s eyes narrowed into slits, “Enlighten me to your reasons, girl, I’m sure now is the right time for that.”

“Ugh, it’s never the right time, that’s why I didn’t tell you till now,” Sammie rolled her eyes and talked back to her mom in a manner that Ark thought would probably have lost him an ear, at the least.

“Then let’s hear it. The boys might as well listen in. Perhaps they can dissuade you from being stupid, where I fail.”

Sammie opened Mino’s hand and began picking out the glass shards, from where they were stuck in his flesh, completely unfazed by the mess. “It’s not stupid, Mom. It’s the right thing to do. The Fingers fight for justice in Lowtown, for the little people.”

“They fight to make trouble, that’s what,” Hera sneered, “What? You gonna shut down factories? Beat up informers who tell on others to VISOR? What is it you think you’re doing?”

“We’re fighting for Lowtowners to have a voice,” Sammie said, ignoring her mother’s icy stare, “My boss, Carven, is gonna change everything. If enough people join the cause, even Central Command can’t stop us, if we insist on the right to govern ourselves.”

Hera laughed, her neck craning backward, as she cackled like an old witch. “You know nothing, girl. You see one handsome man leading the charge, and you think change is in the air?” Shaking her head, Hera pointed at Ark and Mino, “These two fools might not be worth much, but at least they’re standing on their own. Hitching your wagon to a cause is the quickest way to die, Samile.”

“That might not be true for long,” Ark said, interjecting himself in the conversation with a little bit of trepidation. He did not really want to get in between Sammie and her mother having a row, but he figured it was safer than waiting for them to start fighting for real.

“What?” Both mother and daughter chorused, looking at him with strange expressions both.

Wetting his lips, Ark pushed boldly forward, “Mino and I are joining the Explorers Guild tomorrow. We’re going to become riftwalkers."

That, as so many things did, started another fight.