“Proof is trust.”

—Old Damastar Proverb

For two days Zaina went about her business at Hobst’s shop. Everything was done early in case Reida came back. After helping Hobst close the shop for the night, she’d walk home and spend the rest of her time in Sister Tyza’s facility. Otmonzas, as far as Zaina was concerned, consisted of these two places and the walk between them.

The third night looked to be no different. Sitting behind the counter, Zaina rested her hand on her chin. The storefront was pristine—she had more than enough free time to see to that. Today had been so boring she’d wanted to clean to pass the time. Only two people had been in all day, and neither bought anything.

She cast a glance toward the shop in the back, cringing as a metallic whirring rang out. I wonder how he stays afloat with so few customers?

The final minutes of the day were counting down. It wasn’t long before Hobst burst into the shop, performed his nightly once-around, and told her to go home. After saying goodnight, Zaina made for the door. Another day, and nothing from Reida.

Hopefully she’s okay. I hope Bilvane’s androids didn’t get her.

She didn’t put it past them. Still, she was a little disappointed. Maybe she yearned for the adventure—or the chance to control her destiny. It mattered little now; all she could do was live her life and wait.

Before she made it out the door, Hobst’s voice called after her. “Oh, by the way—Zaina!”

“Yeah?” she asked, pivoting to face him.

“News on your ship: it’s all done.”

She blinked. “All done? You mean—”

He grunted. “Up and running. Fully operational. That includes the glyph inside. Wordy little bugger. Keeps asking after a ‘Giramodo.’”

Cool, soothing relief flooded her system. Finally, some good news. “Yeah, Gizmo can be a trip.”

Another grunt. “Now—on the issue of payment.”

She tensed up. This was the conversation she’d dreaded. How long did she have to spend here?

“Now,” he said, “I know you’re in a bad way, kid, but I like the way you work. I’ll pay you my top rate. At that rate, it’d take a full two years of wages to pay for the parts and labor I put into that ship of yours.”

Zaina’s heart sank. Two years? But—I only have ten to be a lancer, right? And two more years of—this?

He raised his hand. “I know, I know, that’s an awful lot of your time. And I know you’ve got places to be. So, I’ll tell you what. Let’s say you stay for three months. Keep helping me out, and I’ll count all your hours worked toward your debt. In three months’ time, we’ll part ways.”

A sigh of relief escaped from her lips. “Thank you, Hobst.”

“That wordy glyph,” he said, “mentioned something about Kaado. You working with a High Lancer. That true?”

She grimaced. “I think ‘worked with’ is kind of a stretch. I didn’t know him very long, but he was my friend—that’s how I think of him. I like to think he thought of me the same way.”

Hobst grunted. “Never met a lancer myself. Heard a lot of stories.”

She stepped all the way inside and closed the shop door. This was the most Hobst had said to her...well, ever. She had to see what this was about. “If you don’t mind me asking—why are you helping me?”

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He scratched his head and adjusted his glasses. Then he shrugged. “You know, I owe Sister Tyza a couple of favors. She does good work here. You may go on to do great work—but not if you stay here.”

She leaned back against the wall next to the door. “Can you even afford all this? You haven’t brought in any money—”

He waved his hand to brush her concern aside. “Don’t worry about my money. I’ve got enough.”

“If you say so,” she said.

He sighed. “You know,” he began in a low, solemn voice, “I had a daughter about your age. Lot like you.”

Zaina frowned. Had?

Hobst waved his hand. “That’s neither here nor there. You get on out of here. Probably hungry, grab some food.”

Zaina turned. “You too. Don’t work yourself to death.”

He grunted in reply, his mind clearly on whatever project was in his shop.

“Goodnight, Hobst. And thanks again.”

The last sound from the shop before the door closed was a grunt from the grumpy mechanic. Zaina was struck by a twinge of sorrow. I wonder what happened to his daughter.

It seemed like everyone in the galaxy had lost something.

Zaina trudged home—by now, she knew her path by heart. Not having to pay attention allowed her mind to wander, or her exhaustion to creep in. She walked by an alley, and something moved in her peripheral vision.

A familiar voice called out, “Hey there, stranger.”

Stepping back, Zaina was greeted by a waving, gray-robed figure. They pulled the hood back, revealing their face—it was Reida.

With a smile, Zaina ducked into the alley and said, “I thought you forgot about me.”

Reida chuckled. “As if. You ready to meet the captain?”

“Yeah. Where’re we going?”

“We’ve got a bunker near here,” Reida replied, turning. “Follow me.”

Zaina stayed as close as possible, not wanting to lose Reida amid the weaving complex of alleyways. Night had fallen over Otmonzas, and there was little light along their travels; a few spare trash campfires, some flashlights used by people searching through dumpsters and piles of odorous garbage, and some wall-mounted lights at the back of restaurants and bars. The back-alleys were a welcome respite from the glittering glamour that permeated everything on this world.

With every few turns, the buildings around them became more and more dilapidated. Their silhouettes were riddled with holes, broken windows, and missing entire chunks; whatever Zaina got a glimpse of in the light was patched up with boards of sheet metal and wood. Fewer people were out and about here.

“Rough area of town?” Zaina asked.

Reida shrugged. “Easier to hide.”

They came to a fence at the end of an alley. Zaina put her hands on her hips. “You get lost? It’s a dead end.”

Reida rolled her eyes and climbed the fence—on the other side was a disheveled concrete building. Its entrance was cracked open, and pieces of the first floor had spewed all over the property. Flickering fire lights glowed in most of the windows. It stood tall against the night—at least a hundred feet tall. Reida led her to the side of the building, walking by the entrance. Inside were rows of tents and people huddled around campfires.

They came to a stop by an angled cellar door beside the building. Reida pried the hatch open and gestured for Zaina to go into a dimly lit stairwell with the bottom out of sight. Once Zaina was in, Reida followed and pulled the door closed—it fell shut with a mighty thud.

“Not exactly what I pictured when I thought of your guys’ headquarters,” Zaina said.

“Yeah, it leaves quite a bit to be desired, if I’m being honest. But don’t worry, we’ll be moving somewhere new soon.”

“Are the people up top—are they Angels, too? I mean, they’re not exactly trying to hide.”

Reida shook her head. “No, just a bunch of vagrants. Kind of works in our favor to have ’em here. All the attention goes up there, and we’re free to do what we want down here.”

“Right,” Zaina said. That didn’t seem very heroic.

“This part of town’s fallen apart,” Reida said, “but it can be rebuilt. For now, though, it serves our purposes.”

The stairwell went on for quite some time—Zaina lost track of minutes. Finally, the bottom came into view—she stepped into a massive room with concrete walls. Light panels hung from the ceiling in rows, suspended by steel wires. Stacks of metal crates were scattered about—some were popped open, revealing copious amounts of guns, Celestium batteries, and assorted pieces of armor.

People of all shapes and sizes hustled about, loading or unloading cargo; none of them looked friendly, and not one took notice of Zaina as Reida led her through the tapestry of controlled chaos. Everyone wore differing sets of armor—even people of the same species had unique protection. Everyone’s clothes were haggard and dirty, and the entire complex gave off a foul odor from the numerous unwashed bodies.

On the other side of the room was a large black table, around which several important-seeming people stood. Reida led Zaina toward them.

A human woman, probably in her late thirties, raised her hand. Everyone else at the table dispersed as Reida and Zaina approached. The woman wore all black, including her armor, and she had a black fur cloak draped around her pauldrons. She had long, black hair pulled back into a war-like topknot set with pins; her amber-colored skin and piercing red eyes complimented each other perfectly, all set on a thin, serious face.

Reida bowed her head. “Captain Danjai.”