“Just make sure you jump hard enough from the start. You’ll make it through the rotation; don’t worry. Worrying is what leads to failure.”

About a month later, Hundred was finally demonstrating her backflips to the Phaetons of the 1st Fleet, as part of her new inter-Class morning training. The 3-Gears watched in awe, laughing nervously to themselves at the thought of having to imitate her.

One of the braver ones, a Striker called 621, actually managed to do it, although she very nearly fell backwards on the landing.

Hundred caught her hands. “Good. That’s all there is to it. Now you just need to practice.” She smiled at her, a genuine smile.

After another hour, the group dispersed, heading off to grab water and snacks before afternoon training began. Hundred went alone to the drive rail, to sit and sip sugar water while looking out at the clouds.

The flame that had raged in her soul for all those years had finally burnt out. She didn’t feel insecure anymore. After what she had done in that battle, she had earned a permanent place in the 1st Fleet.

The medic Phaetons had a whole slew of theories as to how she had survived that night. The prevailing one was that all the energy she had released from her sword had cauterized her body, so that she didn’t lose any more solvent afterward. And a Phaeton’s chance of survival, even from catastrophic injury, was fairly high as long as they weren’t bleeding.

A darker theory, almost a joke theory, held that she’d survived because she had allowed the attack to consume her armor, which included her incinerator light and its mechanisms. So the incinerator simply wasn’t around to erase her. In short, she had come closer to death than she should have been allowed, and lived just long enough for help to arrive.

No one was really sure about that one, partly because no one knew what would happen to a Phaeton that “died” without her armor on. Was the incinerator a part of the armor, or a part of their bodies? Or was it an inescapable part of the System, beyond their understanding completely?

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Hundred blew across the mouth of the water bottle, making a flute-like noise.

“Hey, that’s my favorite song.”

1225 had appeared behind her. Smiling, she came closer into the light.

“So, how are the old bones?” she asked.

“Almost back to normal. 911 wants me to keep taking calcium supplements until next week.”

“Just one more week, huh? Cool. So…when you’re finally 100% again…are you going to—”

“I won’t be the captain.”

Hundred turned away. “I don’t feel right about…replacing her. It’s like what she thought I was trying to do in the first place.”

“Hundred, I’m telling you, she was just being sour. If you’d only known her before she started acting that way, you wouldn’t take it so seriously…besides, everyone already sees you as the Point Captain, and you said you weren’t going back to the 5th. Why not make it official?”

“It’s because…”

Hundred picked at the label on the bottle. “Because…I feel like she’s still out there, somewhere.”

1225 sat down beside her. “Whaaaat??” she cried, smiling incredulously. “Why would you think that? You do realize that, if a Phaeton doesn’t leave a body behind, that’s normal, right…?”

“Of course I do. I just…something isn’t right about this. The lack of Exhaust activity alone leaves an eerie feeling in the air…”

“You think there hasn’t been a formation all month…because of something Ten did?”

“I don’t know if the two things are related. It’s just that something feels…empty about both of them. Like they shouldn’t have gone away so easily.”

“Well, if I know anything, it’s that the Exhaust always comes back with a vengeance. We’ve had plenty of dry spells before— well, we haven’t had any this long before, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m sure we’ll be back on the front lines before you know it.”

She patted Hundred’s shoulder. “And as for Ten…I guess you should just feel however you need to feel.”

Before Hundred could reply, 404 rushed into the launch bay. “You guys,” she said, out of breath, “You may want to come see this.”

+++

A lone Phaeton, fully armored, hopped over the front gate.

Instead of white, her armor was a deep, dark red. As she walked up the path to the facility, she removed her helmet and shook out her long hair.

Crowds of Phaetons gathered at the sides of the path to gawk and gossip. She walked on, ignoring them with a slight smile on her face.

Also on her face was a number printed in faint red: 10.