Silence has weight. Like sand piling, layer on layer, on one's chest, eventually it can suffocate.
The sobs barely register—two or three, snuffed out before they can burst.
Kiperina: I will complete my mission.
She speaks with clarity, as if making a solemn vow.
Kiperina: And if I successfully come back with the data, I'll consider joining Laplace.
Kiperina: But I can't make a decision now. I need more time to think.
Kiperina: I will stay until my job is done. You don't have to worry about that.
Kiperina: That is what Mr. and Mrs. Koslov and my friends in the circus would all want. It is the right thing to do.
Kiperina: ...
Kiperina: If you'll excuse me, I should return to my training. I'll see you later.
She's already on the move before the last word is spoken, leaving behind another layer of suffocating silence.
It doesn't take long before someone else tries to wriggle out from it, too.
Name Day: Us too. Need to double-check the warehouse inventory. Might find something useful.
Han Zhang: Wait, haven't we done that already? Those—
Name Day: Alright! We'll let you know if we find anything.
They leave the room one after another. In the corner, Voyager seems entirely unsure of what to do.
Hissabeth: Join them if you want. I have some unfinished business.
Voyager: ...
Moments later, the last light-footed silhouette exits the room.
Voyager: ...
The familiar gold glint rests at the far end of the hallway, her head lowered against the wall.
Voyager tries to approach but hesitates, stopping mid-step.
She looks around to make sure the hallway is empty, then lifts her violin onto her shoulder.
Voyager: ...
Voyager: Alia!
The music strings and her voice twist together like a trembling thread, calling her friend to turn around.
Kiperina: Was that you? Did you just say my name?
Kiperina: You learned how to—
As she sees those flickering sparks, her voice falters.
Then, in a heartbeat, Voyager resumes her usual appearance.
Voyager: Stars ... good.
Voyager: Alia, happy.
Hissabeth has the office to herself for once, but the progress she had hoped would come to her is still elusive.
After yet another failed calculation, she sets her pen down and reconsiders her goals.
Hissabeth: These calculations need to be finished today.
Hissabeth: The "Teleport" ritual requires the caster to recite the location. It could be understood as calibrating in a way.
Hissabeth: Let's continue with that thought.
Hissabeth: The destination must be preset, and the ritual cast through incantation ... But the further the distance, the harder it is to stay on target.
Hissabeth: If only there were an arcane reaction strong enough and unique enough to calibrate to ...
It's only then that she notices the strangeness of the moment, which is abruptly broken by the arcane energy monitor as it lets out an ear-splitting alarm.
A blinding light flashes across the entire screen, then cuts out.
The instrument's detection radius is small, barely beyond the nearby hallway.
Hissabeth: !
She narrowly avoids a full-on collision in the doorway.
Luckily, she catches herself using the girl's shoulder.
Kiperina: What happened? Are you alright, Ms. Hissabeth?
Hissabeth: Was that you? Did you cast that arcane skill just now?
Hissabeth: No, those energy levels were too high for you—beyond most arcanists. Who was with you just now?
Kiperina: Voyager.
Kiperina: She was just trying to make me feel better. Did it interfere with your experiments? I apologize, Ms. Hissabeth. I promise it won't happen again.
Kiperina: She just left. If you want to find her, I'll go with you.
Hissabeth: Are you saying she was the one that cast that arcane skill?
Kiperina: Yes. It was so pretty. It was like ...
Hissabeth: A neutron star.
It's obvious that the concept is beyond Kiperina. She tilts her head expectantly.
Hissabeth: It's a type of highly magnetized star that emits powerful beams that can be traced to show us its precise location. We call them the beacons of space.
Hissabeth: Such a strong arcane reaction would be so bright that it'd be trivial to locate even from an extreme distance!
Kiperina: I don't know much about space, but it sounds like the difference between finding a star in the sky and looking for the sun.
Kiperina: But then the universe is also very big. I imagine if you were looking from far enough away, even the sun would seem small.
Hissabeth: Damn! I'm afraid you're right. When comparing all the stars in the observable universe, our sun is far from the largest or brightest. Only the closest. We can't assume proximity in our case.
Hissabeth: But then, there's still got to be a way, non?
Capturing the fleeting aura, she propels a new train of thought forward.
Hissabeth: Before the "Storm" arrives, the levels of arcane energy in all affected areas will be greatly amplified. But, what about places that won't be affected?
Hissabeth: Perhaps then, the trick will not be to look for the light in darkness, but for the darkness in the light, like finding a dim bulb in a string of Christmas lights.
Hissabeth places her hands on Kiperina's shoulders and makes a promise.
Hissabeth: If that's the case, I can adjust the portion of runium in order to focus the disk precisely on Plesetsk!
Hissabeth: If this works out—
Hissabeth: Then I guarantee you will arrive home safe and sound.
1987, Plesetsk
2 months before the "Storm"
Pointer: Understood. Take care.
She ends the call and waves at the silhouette walking her way.
Windsong: What are you up to?
Pointer: I've been communicating with the garrison in Mirny. They've picked up some abnormal critter activity during their patrols.
Pointer: Another batch of residents is set to evacuate too. I'll head over to help them shortly.
Pointer: What about you—your geological survey? Are you staying at the branch, or will you head back to HQ?
Windsong: Haven't found anything that's worth digging up yet, but I've decided to give it another try. Should be back here in time for the evacuation.
Windsong: Though I'm hoping to stick around for my little apprentice. She said she'll only give us her decision on joining Laplace once she's back from her mission. I can't wait to hear the good news.
Windsong: You still pretending not to care?
Pointer: My concern, whether it exists or not, will have no tangible effect on their results. I just hope they don't kill themselves for nothing.
Windsong: Hissabeth is planning a final teleportation test the day after tomorrow. I'll be observing from the meeting room.
Windsong: You know the one we always use upstairs? Early in the afternoon.
Pointer: I'll likely be in Mirny by then.
A brief silence follows. In the pause, Windsong deftly shifts the topic to the conspicuous glass tank in the crowd.
Windsong: Hey, Ulrich! We meet again.
Windsong: You look even worse than when we last met.
Ulrich: Ah, Ms. Windsong? And Pointer?
Ulrich: What have we here, two of our busiest bees working together in the Plesetsk Branch?
Pointer has no idea why Ulrich looks "even worse." His expression, as ever, is nigh unreadable, so she simply nods to him.
Windsong: So, when is this "humanitarian vacation" of yours over? Any interest in sparing a little time to watch something fun?
Ulrich: If by "something fun" you mean Dmitry's party, then thanks, but no, thanks.
Windsong: No, not that. I told you about it before—Hissabeth's teleport disk experiment.
Ulrich: Ah, yes, that one. You know word of it is already spreading through HQ and all the other branches?
Windsong: And? What's the impression?
Ulrich: I wouldn't categorize it as "good," but it has certainly become a contentious topic.
Windsong: At least one of the bigwigs is supportive—Madam Lucy. It seems she intends to keep our experiment going either way. She even invited a prominent String-Theory Researcher to HQ.
Windsong: As I said, even if we don't get the results we hoped for, the work itself can be illuminating.
The silent researcher at last offers a wave to attract the attention of the room.
Pointer: Excuse me. I have obligations to attend to.
Pointer: Let's talk again later.
She walks off, leaving Ulrich and Windsong to watch her as her figure passes into the hall and away.
Several minutes pass, then Windsong gasps.
Windsong: S**t! I forgot my badge, and Pointer's gone. How am I supposed to get back to the lab?
Windsong: Sorry, Ulrich, do you mind walking me back?
Windsong: By the way, you didn't answer whether you'll be at Hissabeth's experiment.
