Windsong: You arrived earlier than expected. Pointer and Hissabeth will be happy to know you got here safely.
Windsong: Oh, FYI, Pointer was the researcher who introduced me to Laplace. You might have met her before in Rayashki. She's occupied with a few important visitors right now. We'll talk to her later.
Windsong: As for Hissabeth, you can meet her in person and save me the trouble of an introduction.
She pushes open the door.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, Pointer enters through another door.
Pointer: Our appointment was set for an hour from now. You're a bit early, sir.
Pointer steps aside, motioning for the people hurrying behind her to go in first. She studies the quiet girl, not finding anything particularly unusual.
Mr. Kozlov: There wasn't much work to do today. And Alia always has everything prepared ahead of anything important. I-It's nothing to worry about.
Pointer: Please take a seat. Windsong and Hissabeth will join us later.
Pointer: If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.
Kiperina: Thank you, ma'am. Please call me Kiperina. I have something to ask you.
Kiperina is the first to speak, surprising Pointer. She adjusts her expression, adding a hint of warmth to her smile.
Pointer: That's fine with me, Ms. Kiperina. My name is Pointer. So, what would you like to know?
Kiperina: If I take the offer and complete all the required training, what will I get in return? Do you pay in ruble or something equivalent?
Kiperina: And I'd also like to know if my family will receive my pay in case anything happens to me.
Pointer looks up and examines the girl once more. She can read the worry in Mr. Kozlov's face, but she still can't quite place the look on hers.
Somewhere between courage and fear. Too fine a line for Pointer to draw.
Plants and machines crowd the limited space, struggling for a balance somewhere between jungle and office floor. It's warmer here than in the hallway outside.
Name Day glances sideways, but Windsong has no intention of speaking.
Name Day: Hello? Is anyone there?
Name Day: The materials you sent from the Far East Branch have arrived safely.
Name Day: Everything you asked for on your list is there. But you should check it over as soon as possible.
He scrounges around for a clear spot on the desk and pulls a metal vessel from his pocket,
revealing a little sleeping salamander roused from its slumber by a tap on the head that sends a puff of ash into the air.
Name Day: Hey. Wake up. You're at work.
Hissabeth emerges from behind the machinery and offers a brisk wave to Windsong.
Hissabeth: Windsong? Back from the mine already? Are you going to throw a welcome party for our new colleagues?
Windsong: The mine can wait, but I can't. Those materials are top priority.
Now Hissabeth turns her attention to the young man in front of her.
Hissabeth: Thanks. You might have heard of me. My name's Hissabeth.
Hissabeth: You've read our proposal, haven't you? It'd save me a lot of trouble if you had. I'll catch you up with Pointer as soon as she's available.
Name Day finds himself staring at the curious little snakes poking out, swearing he saw one flick its tongue.
There's no time to hesitate. He decides to follow proper etiquette—handshake, then introduction.
Name Day: Name Day, Foundation Investigator for the Far East Branch.
Name Day: Mind if I ask you a question?
Hissabeth: Go on. But this is an office, not an interrogation room.
She looks around with an airy glance and, spotting the extra object on the desk, gives the little salamander a second gentle rap on the head.
Name Day: Why did you ask me to smuggle in this runium?
Hissabeth: What?
Name Day: Don't get me wrong. I didn't report it. It's just ... it's odd. You didn't ask for much, just a few pieces.
Name Day: It is a rare resource, I grant you. But I think you could've gotten this amount with no trouble by submitting an application. All you'd need to do is wait for a few weeks.
Name Day: Was it really worth the risk?
Hissabeth: Yeah, because we don't have a few weeks to spare.
Windsong: Saving every bit of time we can is vital. It is as precious as this bag of sunflower seeds from a distant land. You don't find them often in these parts.
Windsong: Here.
She lifts her hand and tosses Hissabeth a small cloth bag.
Windsong: I've already taken my share. Why not plant some of these in the office?
Windsong: It won't take too much effort. If you're lucky, you'll get to see them turn their heads towards the light bulbs.
Hissabeth pulls out exactly what she was hoping for.
Rare arcanum energy, tossed carelessly into the air but caught with practiced ease.
Hissabeth: Actually, Mr. Name Day, you're the perfect man for this job. You knew what you were smuggling, you had the perfect excuse to come here, and you were kind enough to help. It was quite the effort to track you down, you know.
Hissabeth: So, how did the trip go? Any trouble?
Name Day: You bet there was. Though I'm still not sure what those bandits were after, the runium or our noisy "arcane item."
Hissabeth: There's a shortage of supplies everywhere nowadays. People take what they can, whether they need it or not.
Hissabeth: Even if they managed to take the cargo, it'd probably just end up in another branch of the Foundation or Laplace.
Hissabeth: Anyway, you saved us a lot of time and resources.
Name Day: Just bear in mind, this runium is not something that you can replace even with Sharpodonties.
Hissabeth: Thanks. We'll use it sparingly. Please send my gratitude to Ms. Vila.
Hissabeth: And one more thing.
Hissabeth: What would you say if I asked you to stay?
Hissabeth: Don't worry. I won't play the Windsong card. It's only a personal request.
Hissabeth: We could save a lot of time with our procedural work if we had a Foundation Investigator on the team.
Hissabeth: And it could be a great opportunity to earn a reputation. Imagine the prestige if the project ends up a success.
Name Day: ...
He swallows his words, not intending to explain his reason for being here.
Hissabeth's version works just fine—easy to understand, and not too personal.
Name Day: Are you making any progress?
Hissabeth: As much as we can, but we don't have a single Sharpodonty to our name, and this runium is the sum total of all the supplies we've received recently.
Hissabeth: They told us we could use all the resources left in Plesetsk, but that amounts to jack all. Thankfully, we still have half a rocket, fuel, and a launch button. Still, to make up for the supply shortage, we need additional manpower.
Hissabeth: Oh, but there's some good news: we don't have to worry about finding our astronaut. We already have a perfect candidate.
Pointer: We're in dire need of an astronaut.
Pointer: There isn't enough time for anyone to finish the full training course. No one would be able to acclimate to a zero-gravity environment in such a short time, not to mention the high pressure and heat.
Pointer: But you may be the exception, Ms. Kiperina. Your arcane skill may allow us to work a miracle.
Pointer: So, if you take the offer, we'll provide you with a salary and try to get you a permanent position here at Laplace.
Pointer: Hissabeth is already working on it. She has a contact in the Foundation who can help with the procedures.
Kiperina: Alright then. I have no more questions.
Pointer notes that, despite their thorough explanation, the girl seems no less worried.
Kiperina: But, just to be clear, I don't think my arcane skill is as useful as you believe. It only makes a little firework show.
Mr. Kozlov: Heh, she's being modest. You know how children are when they receive a compliment, but I tell you she is more than willing to take your offer. Please give her an opportunity. You'll see how reliable she is!
Mr. Kozlov: By the way, another little arcanist girl joined our circus recently. Do you think she could stay with you too?
Pointer: That's not really how this works. Not everyone's arcane skill works in the same manner.
Mr. Kozlov: But she would keep Alia company. Please, madam, Alia is still just a child who plays with dolls.
Kiperina: Mr. Kozlov, stop! I haven't played with dolls in ages!
Kiperina: I ... I'm already grown up!
Pointer: ...
Seeing emotion break through the girl's steady silence at last, Pointer feels she's reached the root of the issue.
Pointer: We'll take a look at what she can do. Would you be able to bring her here now?
Mr. Kozlov: Of ... of course. I'll be right back.
He bolts up and out of the office. In his wake, Kiperina hesitates, shifting in her seat, until at last sitting up straighter.
Pointer's smile fades. There's no need for social niceties in what comes next.
Pointer: Alright, we're finally alone. Now, how about you tell me what you're actually thinking?
Hissabeth: Our biggest issue remains unsolved, but I'm most certain we can resolve it.
Hissabeth: The entire project is a mixed bag right now, but I'd say more good than bad.
Hissabeth: If our little sleepyhead in that pod there can provide what we need, our situation should improve dramatically.
She tips the little vessel, giving the salamander a brief experience of zero gravity.
Han Zhang: I was dreaming of cutting a tree on the moon.
Han Zhang: yawn You'd better have a good reason to wake me up. I'm not your lackey. We made a deal, that's all. And I'm freaking tired after that trip!
Hissabeth: Yeah, and about that deal? I need something from you, now.
Hissabeth: This little pod of yours. It's electrically insulated, heat-resistant, and highly durable against arcane energy. In short: the perfect aerospace material.
Hissabeth: All I need is to sand off a bit of material from it. Don't worry. Just think of it as dental work.
Han Zhang: Wait, wait. You haven't paid for that yet.
Han Zhang: A deal is a deal.
She needs a moment to think but eventually lands on a solution.
She hooks a tiny badge the size of a fingernail onto the salamander's tail.
Hissabeth: Here's your ID card. Just to be clear, this is only for an internship. You'll need to actually work to earn yourself a permanent one.
Hissabeth: And don't do anything stupid. I vouched for you, and now both our necks are on the line.
Han Zhang: Oh, it does look good on me. I knew I belong with Laplace. sigh The engineers at the Foundation's East Branch are way too competitive for my liking.
Han Zhang: So, what else you need? I've brought some records about gunpowder-fueled flight, and a few books on Eastern alchemy. Though, I'm not sure you'd be able to read any of them.
As the little salamander chatters on, she flips over its vessel and inspects it thoroughly before pointing to the square markings on the vessel's base.
The others gather close, unable to resist their curiosity.
Hissabeth: What does this mean?
Han Zhang: Oh, that? You know, I got this pod from the Panjiayuan Antique Market. It's not a genuine antique, but the craftsmanship is quite excellent.
Han Zhang: These characters here mean "microwave safe." Funny enough, microwave ovens were not that popular when I got it.
Han Zhang: Speaking of Panjiayuan, you can't find a flea market as big or as fun anywhere else. If you're ever looking for antiques and collectibles, it should be your first stop.
Han Zhang: Humph, if you want to go take a look, I might just be nice for once and take you ...
Little salamander notices their eager eyes.
At last, a chance to show off its salesman charm—a moment it's determined to seize.
Hissabeth: No, thanks. Just making sure it doesn't mean "danger, explosive." I already learned that lesson from another escapade with an arcane invention.
She returns the dagger she'd borrowed—who knows when—and slips the vial of metal powder into her desk drawer.
Hissabeth: Alright. I've collected enough. You were so busy talking you didn't feel a thing, did you?
Hissabeth: Now, back to our visitor in the checkered pattern uniform, have you made a decision?
After a brief pause, the question Name Day asks switches the conversation to an entirely different track.
Name Day: What are you going to do with the little astronaut when the project's over?
Hissabeth: I'll submit her application to Laplace once she agrees to join us. It'd be great if you could help with her employment procedures.
Name Day: I mean, when are you going to tell her the real consequences of the "Storm"?
Hissabeth: Same as always, as soon as she gets a permanent position with Laplace.
Name Day glances at Windsong, thinking she might chime in—offer an explanation, at least. But she only nods.
That's just how it is. That little astronaut, whom they've never even met, will have to learn it too: That pale dome and those cold steel buildings can't protect everyone.
Soon, the rain will wash away all that's familiar to them. Again, and again.
Name Day: ...
Name Day: Alright, then I'll stay.
Pointer: You mean you really want to stay with the circus?
Kiperina doesn't have a straight answer.
Kiperina: I ... I meant that I'm willing to do whatever you need, but I don't think I want to do this permanently.
Kiperina: Since you say that you need my arcane skill for this project, I'm happy to help, though I don't really know if I can.
Pointer: I think you know why Mr. Kozlov brought you all this way.
Pointer: When was the last time you had a proper meal?
Kiperina: Well, we usually have stews, and sometimes Mr. Kozlov will find us some canned food if we're lucky.
Her rebuttal is soft and utterly unconvincing.
Pointer: And you still want to spend the rest of your life in that circus?
Kiperina: ...
A knock breaks the silence. Kiperina uses the moment to lift her head.
By the time she sits back down again, the light that had flickered in her eyes is gone.
Mr. Kozlov: This is her, the girl I talked about. She doesn't speak much, but I feel that she has a good character.
Voyager: ...
The girl casts a sweeping look across the room, pausing briefly on Pointer.
Mr. Kozlov: Don't be shy. You can sit next to Alia.
Mr. Kozlov: What were you talking about? I hope our Alia didn't cause any trouble, madam.
He steps into the room, noticing immediately that Kiperina is fixated on the parcel in his hands. It's filled with things he and Natalya packed—things they thought the girls might need.
Kiperina: Mr. Kozlov ...
Kiperina: Will I ever have the chance to return to Utrennyaya?
