I sat on the cushioned examination couch in the Medical Room, watching the numbers scroll across a nearby display. Atmospheric levels, temperature gradients, gravity fields. I knew them all, for they were the same measurements that had structured every morning of my life. It felt odd to be silent in front of them, to not have to agree and consent to all these vital voidhold systems.

Something warm trickled down my cheek. I touched it, confused, then saw moisture on my fingers.

Without my veil the tears fell freely.

Why was I crying? I wasn't sad. In fact, I wasn't anything I could name. My throat felt tight and my stomach ached with something between terror and exhilaration. I tried to stop the tears, to maintain the careful control that had been drilled into me since childhood, but they kept coming.

"Here." Vessa was suddenly beside me, holding out a soft cloth. When I didn't take it, she gently wiped my face. The gesture was so unexpected, so human, that I nearly jumped off the couch.

“It’s okay," she said, her voice gentler than before. "Just let it happen."

I touched my cheeks again, oddly fascinated by how the air felt against wet skin.

"You've been through a lot," Vessa said quietly, still holding the cloth ready. She studied my face with professional concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. On Zero, showing emotion was dangerous. It provoked Rashala's rages, confused Father, and drew nothing but cold disappointment from Mother. But here...here I sat crying in front of a stranger, and she didn't seem to mind.

Behind us came Chio's laughter, and then she emerged from behind the partition, with Larkin close behind. Their faces were flushed, and their clothing was slightly askew. Something twisted in my chest at the sight of them together, yet another new kind of ache. More tears fell.

"How's our guest doing?" Chio asked. She paused when she saw me. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I said, raising my hands to cover my face.

"You don't look all right," said Chio.

"I expect this is all a bit new to her." Vessa's hands were on mine, trying to gently pull them down, but I resisted. "It's okay, you don't need to hide."

"Oh." That was Larkin, sounding uncomfortable. "Right. The veil thing. I probably should have mentioned it."

"What veil thing?" Chio asked.

"On Zero they kept her face covered. Have done since she was little, apparently. Some family thing." He shrugged. "She probably feels weird without it."

"What? They made her wear a—" Chio's voice rose. "What kind of—"

"Chio." Vessa's tone was quiet but firm. She waited until Chio subsided, then let go of my hands. Her movements were careful. "My dear, this must all feel very strange for you. Would you like something to cover your face? Nothing permanent, just until you find some steadiness. I have some masks you could use. They're light fabric, easily removed whenever you want. It might help you feel more...yourself while you adjust."

She retrieved a thin dark green mask from a drawer near the couch. "Here. See how it fits."

My hands shook as I took it. The fabric was far simpler than my veil. When I put it on, it didn't seal to my skin, just rested there.

"Is that better?" Vessa asked,

I nodded.

"Good." Vessa turned to her datapad. "Now, we need to talk about your overall condition. You have some minor nutrient deficiencies, which frankly most not us have...it's just the way of things. But your muscle atrophy is far more significant..." She frowned at the screen. "We'll need to be careful with your diet. Chio?"

"Yes, doc?"

"Take her to the canteen and see if she's feeling well enough to eat. Start with the basics from Processing, nothing experimental yet." She smiled. "Her system won't be ready for Marlo's latest innovations."

"Don't worry," Chio said, grinning. "We'll keep her away from the fermentation deck for now." Her hand trailed absently down Larkin's arm. "And what about our brave Voidhold Four Pilot?"

"He's famished," said Larkin. "Let's go!"

I followed them into the corridor, carefully examining this new environment. The basic architecture mirrored our voidhold's, but the air felt different. It was warmer, and carried traces of unfamiliar scents. Ahead of me, Chio and Larkin moved through the corridor with easy familiarity, their bodies close, his hand around her waist. She explained things as we walked.

"That's where we first broke their override systems," she said, pointing to a scarred section of wall. "And that's where Nesta made her last stand. We lost three good people, but gained control of life support." Her voice carried a fierce pride mixed with old pain.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She gestured to a reinforced doorway. "That's a command center now. It used to be their primary interface hub before we ripped out their cores."

Suddenly she punched Larkin on the arm.

"Hey, your approach trajectory was terrible. Since when do you fly like a first-year trainee?"

"You try navigating through those crosscurrents," he said, pulling her closer. "The void streams are treacherous."

"They are! Remember when we first met?" she asked. "Me, hanging in the void with a busted collector array..."

"And me, swooping in to save you?" Larkin's grin was bright in the dim corridor. "How could I forget? You called me an interfering idiot."

"Because you were! I had it under control."

"You were venting atmosphere." He pulled her closer. "Your hull was compromised."

"I would have managed." But she was smiling, her hand finding his. "Though I suppose I'm glad you were stubborn enough to ignore my protests."

I watched their exchange, how their bodies seemed to gravitate toward each other, utterly unlike Rashala's desperate grip on him.

"Your collector arrays needed constant adjustment," Larkin was saying. "I had to keep coming back."

"For purely professional reasons, of course." Chio's laugh echoed off the walls.

"Of course. Although..." He whispered something in her ear that made her snort and push him away playfully.

"I know, and we’ve lost so much time," Chio said, her voice softening. She squeezed Larkin's hand. "But now we have a chance to change everything."

She looked at me as she said it, but I pretended I was inspecting the bulkhead.

Suddenly, a deep vibration ran through the corridor's exposed struts, followed by a shrill alarm. I tensed, expecting the rush of functionaries, the surge of protocols and permissions that would follow such a disturbance on Zero.

Chio glanced at a display jury-rigged into the wall. "Western quadrant's acting up again," she said, tapping the screen. "Nothing to worry about. We get those all the time." She shrugged. "The hull flexes more since we stripped out the rigid support matrix. Actually works better now."

The voidhold shuddered again. On Zero, such movement would have triggered an immediate lockdown. Yeller would have ordered us to the secure zone while other functionaries ran emergency diagnostics. But here, people barely looked up from their tasks. A man passing by called out, "Western struts holding steady. Just that same harmonic we got last week."

"Thanks!" Chio's answering wave was relaxed, almost cheerful. She caught my stare and smiled. "Different from what you're used to, isn't it?"

I nodded, still braced for emergency protocols. "How can you be sure it's safe?"

"Because we trust our own judgement." She patted the wall fondly. "We know every creak, every groan. We feel when something's wrong, not because a functionary tells us, but because we live here. We are part of this place."

Another tremor passed through the structure. My hand found a support beam, fingers curling around its exposed metal. Chio studied my face. I was very grateful for my new veil.

You don't believe humans can handle this alone, do you?" she said. When I didn't answer, she straightened. "Come on. Let me show you something before we head to the canteen."

She led us through a final corridor, the one that in our voidhold led to the thren. Here, the walls were marked with colours and shapes. Some were simple lines or geometric patterns, others were complex images that made my eyes hurt. My steps slowed as I tried to absorb it all, but I had difficulty understanding what was depicted.

"Prepare yourself," Chio said in front of a set of doors much larger than our thren's entrance. Her hand found the handle. "You'll want to see this all at once." She pushed the doors open with a single smooth motion.

Light flooded out, and I forgot how to breathe.

The thren of Voidhold Two soared upward, its ceiling lost in shadows. But it wasn't the size that stopped me in my tracks, it was the vast mural stretched across the curved walls, painted in colours that seemed to glow from within. It showed Mosogon, the Lilac Giant, its eternal storms captured in infinite shades of purple, periwinkle and rose. Behind it, in the far distance, Caliban's Star burned fierce and bright, its corona reaching out in delicate strands of gold and white.

In front of Mosogon the mural showed an image that made my heart race: voidholds, dozens of them, arranged in a perfect constellation as one whole structure like an intricate jewel. Streams of small craft wove around the structure and spread out to the bottom of the mural, where the five moons of Mosogon gleamed with the lights of human habitation.

"That's where we're meant to be," Chio said softly. "What we should be doing. We’re meant to be together, as one voidhold.”

I moved closer to the wall, my hand reaching out to touch the painted surface but stopping just short. In all my life, I had never seen anything so vast, so human. Every brushstroke was evidence of someone's hand, someone's vision. Imperfect, beautiful, alive with possibility.

"Yes," I whispered, and was surprised to find I meant it. This was right. This was what we should be. Not separate, not controlled, but connected and working together. Building something greater than our small worlds. The longer I stared at the mural, the more details emerged: tiny maintenance shuttles weaving between the voidholds, gardens visible through vast viewports, spaces where humans could gather and grow.

A burst of laughter drew my attention to one side of the thren. A small group sat at what looked like a workbench, sharing something from a container that steamed in the air. Their movements were so free, so uncontrolled. One woman gestured expansively as she told a story, nearly knocking over her companion's drink. Instead of rages or correction, this only prompted more laughter.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Larkin's voice was soft beside me. "Not just the art but the people. This is how we're meant to live."

"And now we can share it with everyone," Chio added, her fingers intertwining with his. "The voidhold locator you brought us, it's not just a device. It's hope. We can finally find them all, even Voidhold One. Every lost fragment of humanity." Her free hand gestured toward the mural. "All of us together again, strong enough to master the storms instead of hiding from them."

Human...human..hell...hello

A new voice in my ear ornament, crackling and broken.

Human variance detected. Initiating soc-soc-social protocols...

I tensed, scanning the room for functionaries but seeing only people. Then my gaze caught on something glinting at one woman's throat. It was a pendant made from familiar dark metal, complex circuitry still visible beneath its polished surface. The same kind of components that had spilled from Oren when PQ9 destroyed it.

I am Aspen. Protocol suggests... suggests... sugge-ge-ge—

The voice dissolved into meaningless sounds, fragments of functionary language corrupted beyond recognition. I touched my ear ornament, understanding dawning like a cold wave. These people hadn't just eliminated their functionaries, they wore their minds as jewelry.

I stared at the people, my thoughts tangled and uncertain. That fragment had once been part of something like Oren, an entity who shaped and guided human lives. Now it hung as a silent gem while its wearer's laughter echoed off walls painted with dreams of humanity's future.

I wasn't sure if this made me want to weep or soar.