"Mmm-mm-hmmm...mmmm-hmmm..."
One leg after the other, she slid the tights up her legs and let go all at once. The fabric snapped gently into place, her legs gained some color from them as she hummed, tugging at the tights here and there until everything felt just right.
The librei reached for her skirt where it laid beside her. Sierra slipped it on without much fuss, standing up from the bed and tucking her long sleeved black top neatly inside.
"Finally." She muttered, one full of relief.
Sierra turned and fished a short jacket out of a store brand bag next to her feet. Light brown, slightly loose—stopping just at her waist, with a darker lining that peeked out when she slipped her arms through the sleeves.
She sat back down to pull on a pair of burgundy socks, taking a brief moment to breathe before slipping into her lace up shoes, then bending down to tie them up—lightly polished of course.
Krn—
Sierra's head snapped toward the door.
Ikade stood in the doorway with her phone raised, covering half her face while the door crept more open.
"Who's this troublemaker? Mhm?"
The words came out teasing, a cheeky smile obvious even through the screen.
Tik—tik—!
The camera flashes went off before Sierra could react, bright enough to make her flinch.
"Oi."
Sierra rubbed at her eyes and headed into the living room, where she found the feline rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out whatever.
Between the two of them, it took maybe twenty minutes to throw together a quick breakfast—nothing fancy but still delicious enough to satisfy them.
"Hh—fuu...I feel stuffed."
That thought might as well have belonged to both of them. Sierra washed it down with a bit of wine they'd bought the day before—just enough to leave her pleasantly warmth. Ikade, on the other hand, stuck to juice, curled comfortably on the chair in a tee a size too big with shorts peeking out beneath it.
"When you're coming back?"
Ikade asked lazily.
Both of them stared at the twin screens hovering above the bracelet ,resting gently on the table. One played a movie Sierra wasn't really watching anymore. The other showed the forecast—a sandstorm with a sixty percent likelihood of it occurring within the next couple days.
"In a couple hours." Sierra answered, the words came out a little slow while her body focused on digesting.
Ikade opened her mouth immediately.
"Are you sure I can't come?"
The question entered one ear and left out the other.
"Yup—" Standing up, Sierra grabbed her bracelet and slipped it on. She was already walking toward the door when she spoke again. "Let's leave it to a coin next time kay? Chao~"
She waved lazily while opening the door, her purse gently held in her palm. Behind her, a soft, wounded boo drifted out of Ikade's lips.
Outside the room, Sierra lifted her wrist and logged in, the map popping into place a moment later. Her destination sat near the end of the vessel, tucked into one of the middle decks.
So she walked after locking the door.
"Hm…mmm…hm…"
Within the first minute of walking, she started humming a tune she remembered. She moved on autopilot, dipping her hand into her purse and fishing out her earbuds. The moment the second one slid into place, they connected with her bracelet—and the same tune she'd been humming filled her ears.
The song was simple. A steady drum beat, a lone guitar and vocals from a young man. Not sad, not cheerful either but it rode with the thump of her heart and steps.
The corridors were mostly empty—just the occasional worker passing by, someone jogging and sweating lightly or the perpetual hum of the vessel. Maybe the first time she'd traveled in one of these, the hum would have annoyed her but now, she had long filtered it out of her mind.
Maybe it was the day. Maybe it was chemicals in her head doing their thing—dopamine, serotonin, or endorphins her brain had decided to bless her with. Whatever it was, Sierra felt like moving. From the small shake of her head, the lazy sway of her arms, like she'd stepped into some animated music video only she could see.
A few people stared but she didn't care.
She passed through long empty corridors. Walking past a small scuffle, slipping by the vending machines scattered about. Past stairwells of every shape and size, up and down without much thought.
Sierra hummed without stop and at some point, she found herself calling for an elevator, staring at the display overhead while the number ticked down—to her deck, then her floor.
Ding~!
The doors slid open and she stepped inside. Turning around, Sierra pulled a simple card from her purse and flipped it between her fingers—a series of numbers were engraved into it. She hesitated for half a second then pressed the matching buttons one by one.
—and the doors closed.
Her small movements resumed, from the faint sway of her shoulders to her fingers tapping against her skirt.
She exhaled softly as the numbers above the doors began to lower swiftly. Her body sank with the descending elevator, carrying her through floor after floor, stopping abruptly enough to make the lights flicker.
—pssh…chk—!
The music dipped suddenly, returning at a lower volume and distorted with faint interference. The small smile on her face flattened almost immediately.
Her brows eased while her eyes slipped back into their usual mildly lidded state—the indifference settled in right when the doors slid open.
When the doors slid open, Sierra stepped out into the elevator lobby.
The lighting here ran warmer than the corridors above. The hum of the vessel was louder than her flickering music, so she pulled her earbuds free and tucked them away into her purse.
A few people loitered nearby, dressed in their own mismatched getups. No one spared the others a glance and neither did she.
Passing them without a word, Sierra moved past the short hallways branching off on either side—where the rest of the elevators waited and headed straight for the double doors ahead.
With a push, the doors swung open and she squinted against the sudden wash of light flooding the main lobby, a mutter slipped from her lips. She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust as the scene settled into focus—the abundance of people filled her view with colors.
To her immediate left sat the front desk, angled slightly away from the entrance. Behind it stretched the event lounge, already full of chatter. Groups lounged wherever they could, some dressed up in outfits, others in plain everyday clothes not so different from hers.
She walked up to the desk and opened her purse, pulling out the same card and sliding it across to the man behind the laptop. They exchanged a handful of words before he handed her a lanyard, which she looped it around her neck without much thought.
Pushing through the next set of doors, she was immediately greeted by the blue ambience—no, literally.
The lights overhead glowed blue and white in a checkerboard pattern that casted calm glow over everything. The hum was more prominent here than anywhere else. Sierra could clearly see the metal beams above, the fire sprinklers, the circular LED hanging at the center like a watchful eye.
To anyone else, to everyone already inside and everyone who would walk in after her, it was just a simple get-together.
A room full of like minded people.
One step became two, and then those two doubled without her really noticing. As she walked, Sierra glanced around at the many islands scattered across the space. Some were already exposed, others still draped in white cloth, hiding whatever props were underneath.
What kind of props? Anything that fit the theme of each island.
To her left, a small group was already deep into their setup—mock crates, pallets, bits of cover stacked and shifted around. It looked like a frozen moment from a fight, battered mannequin were placed haphazardly and one was leaning into a half built column.
And then were those who just wanted to check things out.
Sierra continued to walk through while throwing glance to the other islands, eventually reaching the far wall and taking a left. To where her groups section was at.
Then there were the ones just wandering.
Totally not here to fan over each other's stuff and network, no. Definitely not because being trapped inside a vessel for three weeks straight had gotten boring as hell.
Sierra kept moving, tossing glances at island after island as she passed. Eventually, she reached the far wall and took a left—
Straight toward her group's section, where the music was already loud enough to feel in her chest.
Their island was built from concrete and stone, framed by three wooden archways—two along one side and the last one she walked through. Once inside, she noticed the large opening cut into the ceiling, along with several smaller openings, each covered in wire mesh that let light and air bleed through.
She took a few steps closer, watching her acquaintances lift more props into place. One carried two crates and set them against a wall before removing the topmost one then placing it aside, snapping it open to reveal nothing but foam.
The lighting high above split the room cleanly in half—blue on one side, white on the other, casting hard lines across the floor. The wooden frame in the center was as fake as the building itself, though the interior sold the illusion well enough. With a small shake of her head, Sierra found herself standing in front of a large shipping crate planted atop a slim trolley.
The librei filtered out the surrounding conversation and reached for the combination lock, spinning the numbers until it gave way. Repeating the motion once more.
Sierra wedged her fingers between the lid and the crate, lifting it fully before pulling a simple pole from inside to keep it propped open. The overhead lighting was just enough to catch on what lay within—her belongings, packed taut, some catching the light more harshly than others.
This should be fine, right?
She stared and stared, her eyes reflecting her most prized tools.
With a sigh, the feathered woman looked at the driver before her—using both arm to pull it out and leaning it against the crate, Its worn silver surface reflected the lights above, the dents and scratches pulled at her eyes.
So damn heavy! fuu—like this? Or like this?
Sierra played with its placement for a minute until it felt just right. It was stripped of its accessories, its source of power removed and resting at the bottom of the crate in its own container.
She wiped her fingerprints from its surface before turning back to the crate—the rest of her firearms sat side by side in their own cases, all five were connected by a single looping wire lock. She tilted her head, counting them with her finger, then counting again when she lost track.
Did I always have this much?…No, right?
On the lid was a halfway filled backpacked, used and abused—yet, ever so faithful. The brackets for her firearms were packed into a side bag along with the rest of her equipment—the extinguishers, ,her self-administered trauma bag among other things.
Leaning inside, she grabbed onto her micro rig at the back of the crate, wedged between firearm and the crate. Using one had for support and tugging it free.
tap—tap.
Turning around, she changed her expression, looking at whoever had tapped her shoulder with open confusion.
"Yes? What's up?" Sierra said, staring at the caprinae with a slight head tilt.
"Wanna join?"
The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the rest of their small group, some sitting, some standing, gathered around a prop.
"Uhh...sure?"
She gave a quick nod. The man turned and walked away without another word. Sierra glanced down at the little rig in her hands, shrugged, then took a few brisk steps toward the gathering. Their soft conversations slowly became clearer as the music faded down, the ringing in her ears easing.
"...anaged...find one...so far."
She plopped down onto an empty chair, letting her body slack while she leaned into it—placing the small bag onto her lap and unzipping it the next moment.
"What about you?" She looked up, catching the curious glances sent her way. Her ears perked slightly—waiting for the rest of the question. "How'd you end up getting that?"
The speaker nodded towards her crate of goodie, stopping briefly at her driver.
The librei sifted through her memories while, at the same time, she unzipped the pouch to glance inside—an extra IFAK, a pair of rubber and normal gloves, spare batteries, tape, snacks, and some writing supplies.
"Lemme see… ah, I was in Sabahran a few years ago—think I was, what, twenty? Twenty-two-ish?"
Her memory failed her once more before finally catching on. The group went quiet, interested in how someone else in their profession fought.
"Anyway, I was getting frustrated 'cause I couldn't land a hit while the mining vessel I was on was getting raided, but I digress—" She said, zipping the pouch back up after checking that nothing was missing.
"So once it was over—cuts and bruises and all, we grabbed a few trucks and drove to a nearby city...that's where I bought it."
Sierra looked back at her tool, feeling a bit of weight creeping into her tone.
"It worked out so well I ended up getting another. Went into debt for a bit, though—heheh." She scratched her cheek in embarrassment, feeling them heat up.
A feline raised their hand. She responded with a small nod and a quiet—"Mhm?"
"You don't carry them, do you? I mean, by hand."
"Huh? Oh, no no." Sierra waved her hand a few times, flashing a quick smile.
"I'm not that strong, y'know? Without telekinesis, there's no way I could carry one on my own." She said.
"I'd just burn my hand even if I tried. I'd probably be using something else."
She said it lightly, letting herself sink into the atmosphere, before pointing toward a large man seated on a chair clearly too small for him. His grey hair contrasted sharply with the dark, fluffy ears perched atop his head.
"What about you, Osito? What've you got?"
"Me?"
His voice was rough but deliberate. The greyed beard on his face sat atop a mountain of a man as he pointed toward a metal crate off to the side, its sidewall lowered like a ramp—a few straps could be seen poking out over it.
"JJust a regular one, so no beam for me. Bit old, though. Ehh—passed down to me."
He crossed his arms and leaned back.
"I just carry mine."
A couple minutes later, the mood had settled, molding into chatter about the most random, useless things as they enjoyed the moment. A few drinks came and went, leaving her tipsy with a warm weight blooming in her chest—but not enough to dull her thoughts.
The conversation drifted from where everyone was headed next to splitting off into small trios, each talking about their plans. For her, it was mostly listening and just goofing around with the group for a while.
Until it was her turn.
"——i've got one too—pretty solid, right?"
"Mhmhm. It carries some magazines, walkie talkie and a few other things—my pistol too, obviously." Sierra stood beside her crate of tools, holding the small rig before hooking it over the corner of the lid.
"Pretty worn down."
She grabbed the grip and pulled sideways, revealing her heavily used pistol—unloaded, of course.
Its body was satin black, fitted with dark, scaled wood grip panels. "My eleven ninty-onee—"
GRNN—KRAAAM! shrr—clang—!
A harsh sound.
Sierra stumbled, reaching out and grabbing the crate right when the lid slammed shut. Pain exploded through her hand, caught between two harsh surfaces. She shouted a curse and yanked it free, clenching her pistol harder too.
Everything and everyone—was thrown off balance as the vessel shook, her small rig falling straight to the ground.
The floor lurched hard to one side, like the whole landship had sunk into a ditch and decided to stay there.
Yet it felt like it pushed ahead without a care, the metal beams groaned, the lights flickered away while yells and shouts echoed about.
The floor jumped. She barely caught herself, her shoes scraped hard against the ground.
It shook again, her weight shifted at the same time and then—there was nothing to brace against. She dropped hard onto her ass with a sharp exhale, the impact ran straight up her spine.
The lights cut out.
Blackness swallowed the room in an instant, leaving only faint outlines and vague shapes of stumbling people. She blinked, then her eyes swam everywhere, her ears ringed when metal rubbed against one another, she squinted through the dim afterimage of where everyone had been a second ago.
For a moment, all she could do was sit there with her pounding heart—waiting to see if the ground was going to move again.
But it never came.
For a long, drawn-out couple of minutes, they all waited in the dark, in stillness.
Flick!
Like a breaker switching, dim and scare orange lights appeared from the walls of the area. washing them in a cautious film. They came on unevenly, sporadic—some steady, others flashing with a quiet pitter patter.
Sierra set her expression back to neutral when she stood beside her crate, curling her fingers once before making a small pressing gesture. A ring of light shone from her bracelet, illuminating her surroundings in white.
A voice, broken, rung around them.
「—nnouncement—please remain—...—encoun...a—hurd...e—」
The trios slowly regrouped into a single mass, save for a few outliers—her included. She slid her pistol back into the small bag, holstering it properly.
Welp. Guess I got my hopes up for nothing. So much for talking shop.
With that, Sierra tried calling Ikade. Again. And again—four more times, each failure tightened the knot in her chest.
Seriously? Now?
On the final attempt, she exhaled sharply and propped the crate lid open despite the sting still running through her fingers. She lifted her downed driver and settled it back inside, it's metal body clinking against the wooden walls.
C'mon—pick up the damn call. Just once. I'm not asking for a miracle here and I could really use you right now!
She complained, tapping her heel against the floor.
She let out a breath and switched to messaging instead—swiftly typing, the floating screen above her bracelet showed nothing but their previous talks. With a small sigh, she sent it off and sat against the crates edge, the light from her bracelet casted unsteady shadows across.
A landship slams itself half into fuckall, everything goes dark, and I'm stuck here playing patient. Just my luck.
Facing down at the small chest rig and tuning out the chatter from the group, Sierra picked it up and turned it sideways, setting it back into the crate. She grabbed her pistol along with a magazine.
She turned the magazine in her hand, counting out nine rounds—a full one. She seated it after a short fumble and giving it a firm tap, then, pulling the slide back by the red dot with the muzzle angled downwards.
A quick press check followed next.
Standing again, she propped the lid long enough to let it fall shut, then secured it, giving each lock a firm tug.
I'll just send it back to the cargo deck…carrying all of this the whole time sounds miserable.
Her gaze dropped to the pistol still in her hand. She stared at it until its outline began to blur, relaxing her grip—a faint pulse bloomed behind her eyes, and the pistol remained suspended in the air for a moment before slipping out of sight, behind her back.
Turning around, she took in the scattered lights from phones and bracelets, their glow casting long shadows of men across the island. This time, however, there were more automated trolleys—each stacked with boxes or crates, slowly being gathered up.
In the blink of an eye, she was back with the group with her purse in hand.
"It's just us four, right? No one else is putting their stuff away?"
A feline spoke up, now fully geared and leaning back against a trolley. In total, there were two men and two women, all different races—including her.
"Mhmm."
"Yeah."
The third only nodded.
"Alright then."
It seemed he'd become the impromptu lead. As Sierra walked through the archway, she glanced over her shoulder, watching her trolley follow behind her—the others doing the same.
The interior beyond was washed in the muted film of cautious lighting. The ground teemed with moving people, their strides purposeful, flashes of white light beaming from cellular device and—
BEEP-BEEP—BEEP!
Sierra snapped her head toward the blaring siren—white and orange light bounced off the surrounding islands and straight into her eyes.
The four of them navigated the maze of islands, watching people strip their props and gear together, their faces marred by a mess of different expressions. Sierra's face, however, didn't change at all. She raised her wrist, unlocked her bracelet and checked her messages—three small dots bounced in sequence.
Narrowing her eyes, she glanced up to make sure she was still with the group, then looked back down when her bracelet chimed.
All she got was a simple thumbs up from Ikade. She closed her eyes and sighed.
A few dozen steps later, she found herself pushing through a sea of people gathered in front of a lift—the source of the blaring siren. Some were taller than her, some shorter. Her group wasn't the only one sharing the same thought.
Klng—klng—klng—klng—!
It sounded like something heavy grinding its way down a rail. She looked up just in time to see the lift descending to their level, its chassis shuddered while it screamed against the guides. The sirens flared again, white and orange light washing over the crowd when its sirens overlapped one another.
The lift slowed, the metal protesting every inch of the way. Hazard tape marked off a wide section of the floor, cutting a clean boundary just short of where the platform would stop. People instinctively pulled back, scraping their soles in the process.
Even though the metal gates ahead still kept everyone separated from the lift—receded into the landship itself.
Shrr—clnk.
Bang!