In the months since the Dreaming City fell into its time loop, Corsair Amrita Vae had learned to wring joy from small triumphs. It was the only thing keeping her in good spirits as she, like the rest of the Vestian Awoken, stared down an indefinite cycle of struggle against invading hive forces.
Of the limited amusements available, her favorite were the guardians and their ghosts. They were truly unpredictable beings, capable of shifting the course of events in the Dreaming City slightly each cycle. Never enough to break it, not yet, but enough to add variety to her daily life. Sometimes, she would tag along on their patrols, listening to their stories and reports of the outside system. Other times, she would watch their antics from afar with the other corsairs.
So her interest was piqued when, one day, a purple-shelled ghost tailed her on her morning patrol near the Spire of Keres. She expected that it had wandered away from its guardian, but saw no one in sight.
"Hello ghost," she said with a smile. "Is your guardian nearby?"
"I hope so," he said cheerily. "But I've never been here before, and don't know my way around."
She tilted her head. "You've lost them?"
"Ohno. I haven't found them yet! But I have a good feeling about this place."
She nodded politely. It was the first time anyone had a good feeling about the Dreaming City since before the Battle of Saturn. Though, she supposed, if he was looking for bodies he would find no shortage here. 4 Vesta had long been a favorite burial site among the Reef Awoken, and the war with Oryx left many more dead here.
"Be careful, Ghost. It's, well . . ." she paused, wanting to warn the eager fellow without discouraging him, ". . . a bit risky here. Dangerous forces have gathered."
His flanges sagged, but he bobbed in agreement. She waved bye to him, and he spun a bit in the way she recognized as a ghost salutation. He buzzed away, and she wandered off into the mist, Tigerspite in hand and Supremacy slung over her back. Watched from behind an outcrop as a pack of hive and scorn tore each other to shreds, and stepped in afterward to take out those left standing.
"You do this all day?" came the ghost's voice from behind her, once the shooting had stopped.
She spun around to face him. "How long have you been following me?"
"Since we talked." He fidgeted. "It's . . . a little scary here. Can I stay with you, Miss . . . ?"
"Amrita," she provided, "And sure, why not. Just stay clear of firefights, will you?"
He nodded. "Thank you, Miss Amrita!"
"The pleasure is mine, uh —" she realized she hadn't gotten his name.
"Pulled Pork!"
. . .
The two traveled together for the rest of the day. She appreciated the company, and he enjoyed having somebody to tell his stories to. By his account, he was an old ghost, and although he could not pin an exact age to himself, from his description she reckoned he'd been in the system longer than the Awoken. A pang of sympathy gripped her when she thought about his centuries of fruitless search.
She traded her own tale of heartbreak. Told him about the happy life she and her partner had built on earth. How she had decided to take up arms in the Dreaming City when Reagent-Commander Petra Venj had requested aid from the remaining Reefborn. How Kazia had not wanted to leave earth, and how she had left them behind, instead. She wondered whether anyone had ever delivered the news of her plight. Whether they still cared for her, if they had moved on from her, or if they had forgotten her. Which would be worse.
In consolation, he bumped against her shoulder with a feather-light tap. She touched him in return, a single finger held to his flange. Whomever he ended up with would be particularly lucky, even by the standards of those chosen by the Traveler.
Night fell, and with it came the corsairs' evening briefing. When she and Pulled Pork arrived at the command center, her comrades amusedly asked if she had died fighting and been revived a guardian. She laughed, and reminded them she wasn't due to be bleeding to death in a cave until tomorrow. Pulled Pork bristled with alarm but she reminded him this was all a part of the cycle. A guardian would find her, she would be rushed to a field hospital and saved.
But that night as she lay on her cot in the barracks, she fantasized. Maybe this time she wouldn't be found. Maybe she would die in that cave, Pulled Pork beside her, and be raised with the light. She would lose her memories of the Reef, good and bad. She would lose all her friends, but she would no longer be trapped here, either. Kazia would become a stranger . . . perhaps for the best. A clean break to match theirs. She slipped to sleep while calculating whether it would be worth it.
Just before sunrise, Pulled Pork woke her from her fitful, dream-filled sleep. "Miss— Miss Amrita? I have to go now," he said, his soft voice taking on a tone of determination, "I think— oh, thank the sky, I think my guardian is nearby—!"
As she shook off her sleepiness, she asked, quiet and furtive, if she could go with him. He gently declined, saying he needed to do this alone. She nodded.
"I hope you find who you're looking for," she whispered.
"I hope you do, too."
. . .
Pulled Pork would not come back for her later that day.
She would not die.
A warlock would carry her off to safety. She would be evacuated to their makeshift hospital, and be stabilized by the techeuns. She would think of Pulled Pork as she lay on the stretcher, and wonder whether he found his person.
Perhaps she got her answer that night, when she heard from the comms that a galliot had gone missing and could not be accounted for.
