Again and again, she has been haunted by the same dream.
In it, her eyes are clouded by mist, and when she tries to speak, her words come out garbled.
She is wrapped in a vast void, boundless and bare.
Terror seizes her. She opens her mouth and lets out her first cry.
Baby Girl in a Blanket: cry
But her faint cry is swallowed by the howling of a storm, its cruel wind tearing all things asunder.
Somewhere deep within, she senses the vastness of the world she's entered, yet not a single corner of it feels meant for her.
Baby Girl in a Blanket: cry
She begins to slip into unconsciousness.
But vaguely, through the cold, she hears the bark of a dog and feels a warm, wet snout against her numb face.
Sled Dog: Woof ... Woof woof!
Kozlov: Easy now, easy! Settle down, you cheeky girl! What've you found this time? Don't tell me it's another little bear.
Kozlov: Oh dear!
His smile vanishes into a look of open shock.
Urgent footsteps press into the soft snow, reaching her ears and then—
The world spins around her.
Kozlov: You poor child, look at you, chilled to the bone!
Kozlov: Those tiny little hands, like ice.
He holds her close to him, tucking her under his coat. The world shrinks in an instant.
Baby Girl in a Blanket: cry
But this cramped place holds such warmth.
The howling storm can no longer reach her. Her frozen limbs begin to thaw, and a deep sense of safety settles in.
Kozlov: You are safe now, little one.
Kozlov: There is nothing to fear.
Kiperina: One, two, three ...
Kiperina: No more, no less—just seven.
Kiperina: Just how it was before I left.
The girl gives a satisfied nod as she turns her gaze away from the tropical fish in the tank.
After days of observation on her return from space, the end of her long quarantine feels like stepping out from another world. At last it seems like she has her feet planted on solid ground again.
But a drifting voice halts the smile rising on her lips.
Hissabeth: In fact, I ordered ten, but with the "Storm," logistics have been a complete mess.
Hissabeth: The leader said unless one of us is dying from a severe ornamental fish fillet deficiency, we'll have to wait our turn on the exotic fish list.
Hissabeth: He bred these new ones himself, and because he thinks our lovely little teleport disks will save him a ton of trouble someday, he's loaned them to us from his personal collection.
Kiperina: Are you saying that ...
Hissabeth: Oui, we have seven, just not the same pals as before.
The Melusine lifts one of her hidden siblings from the coils of her hair.
Hissabeth: So, listen up, you lot: no sneaky snacking this time, or we're paying for it. And we don't have that kind of money.
Snake I: Mais enfin! That's your fault for insisting on recreating the exact same lab at this branch! Let it go already!
Snake I: This is all that mouthy, overcharging salamander's fault. We haven't even got this month's allowance yet, and you're already splashing cash around like it grows on trees!
Hissabeth: We are still working on the data Kiperina brought from the space. Maintaining a consistent research environment will help keep our thinking on track, non?
Han Zhang: Hold on, hold on, did I just hear one of your snakes accuse me of overcharging? My prices are completely fair! Hell—I gave you them for practically a steal!
Han Zhang: Don't underestimate the pricing on getting identical tables and chairs in times like these. It's not exactly easy to get your hands on them.
The tiny salamander has stirred from its nap and launches into a spat with the serpentine siblings.
But their loud commotion seems almost impossibly distant to Kiperina.
Kiperina: The "Storm" and reversion.
Just saying the words seems to strike her with an unexpected harshness. As though she hadn't been ready for it.
She tries to avert her eyes, but she is drawn back to the eco-tank again.
The fish dart playfully through the water. She used to feel so much joy watching them, but then ...
Kiperina: They're not the same ones as before.
Kiperina: They're gone.
A wave of dizziness sweeps over her.
She feels like she has returned to the weightless void of space, but now without the company of the stars.
In the endless darkness, a colossal presence stirs. Its pull catches her, and she begins to fall.
Hissabeth: So, what's your plan?
Kiperina: Hmm?
Her fading awareness is drawn back to earth by an envelope waving before her eyes.
Kiperina: This is ...
Hissabeth: Knew it. You were off floating in the stratosphere again, weren't you?
Hissabeth: Voilà! This is a letter from the St. Pavlov Foundation—addressed to the "Esteemed Astronaut," no less.
Hissabeth: Seems the Foundation's quite interested in what we pulled off, so they're teaming up with Laplace to throw a banquet-meets-scholarly exchange sort of do to celebrate.
Hissabeth: Everyone's on the list—names you know and more than a few you won't.
Hissabeth: What's with that look?
Kiperina: I ... I just did what I could. It really isn't something worth celebrating.
Kiperina: Maybe there might be something else I should be doing. Like—
She pauses for a moment, then lets the words leave her lips.
Kiperina: About the "Storm" ... Are there any updates on the "Storm," and could there be something I can do to help?
She longs for good news, though she could not possibly explain what kind of news she is hoping for exactly.
But all she is met with is the composed expression on Hissabeth's face.
Hissabeth: The data you brought back has definitely been helpful. We've already made great progress.
Hissabeth: But you're with Laplace now. You have to understand, when it comes to a problem like the "Storm," it won't be solved quickly.
The researcher gives her little astronaut friend a gentle pat on the shoulder.
Hissabeth: Be patient. You've done your part; now it's time for us office-bound eggheads to take over.
Hissabeth: Bien sûr, we don't usually say things like this, but come on, you just came back from space. You nearly died up there.
Hissabeth: What you need right now is a bit of rest and relaxation, not work.
The little astronaut's brow remains furrowed.
Hissabeth: You know what—here, take this.
Three familiar items, along with the invitation, are pressed into Kiperina's arms.
Kiperina: These are the teleport disks we used before, yes?
Hissabeth: They're new and improved, based on the data from your trip. In theory, you only need to think of the destination to trigger these things.
Hissabeth: The banquet's in a week. If you can't sit still till then, it might be the perfect chance to help us test them out and collect a bit of field data, non?
A subtle light returns to the girl's sky-blue eyes.
Kiperina: No problem, Miss Hissabeth! You can leave it to me!
But a thought hits her, and she falters again.
Kiperina: But, to use them, I need a destination to teleport to.
Kiperina: Where should I go?
Hissabeth smiles, perfectly at ease.
Hissabeth: It's all up to you.
Kiperina: ...
Kiperina closes the office door behind her and lets out a soft sigh.
Name Day: Miss Kiperina, is something the matter?
Name Day: I'm surprised to see our brave astronaut looking so glum.
