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1. Anchors Assembling, or: The Blueprint for Tomorrow
A chime rang through the Silver Anchor's quiet living quarters — bright and electronic, the sound of a visitor at the hatch.
"I'll get it."
Ledea rose from the sofa and made her way down the passage toward the airlock, Shutia's short acknowledgment at her back. The warmth of Kanoa's hands still lingered in her palms as she opened the outer door.
A moment later she returned to the living room, and behind her came a familiar presence — quick-moving, cheerful, the kind of energy that filled a room without trying.
"Welcome, Sati."
"Sorry to barge in! ...You called me over so suddenly — what's going on?"
Sati arrived with her brown ponytail swinging, the same open expression she always wore. She was the one-woman maintenance crew for Hal Maintenance, and she had been handling the Silver Anchor's routine upkeep while the Mace sisters were away on their commission. She had only just returned to the shop when Ledea's urgent message had pulled her back.
"Hello, Shutia."
She greeted Shutia with her usual unguarded smile — but something in the air of the room reached her, and her voice dropped slightly.
"I'm sorry for calling you back so suddenly, Sati. Thank you for coming."
Shutia's apology was genuine, her smile quieter than usual. Sati's gaze moved from her to the red-haired girl sitting alone to one side.
"You must be Kanoa. Ledea told me a little, on the way."
Kanoa gave a small nod. She was not the same as she had been an hour ago — the hollow blankness was still there, but something had shifted behind her eyes. A faint light, where there hadn't been one before. Shutia's data had done that.
"Now that everyone is here — let's begin."
Ledea moved to the central console. Two hologram monitors expanded into the air above the living room — channels opening, light filling the space.
*"— You kept me waiting! When I heard Asphi was in danger, I, Katrine de Argent, the Galaxy's Premier Analyst, exceeded the limits of communication speed itself to be here!"*
One of the monitors filled with golden ringlets and unapologetic confidence — Katrine, her presence somehow larger through a screen than most people managed in person. The weight that had been sitting in the room lifted, just slightly.
*"Hm hm. Katrine is as lively as ever. ...Ledea, Shutia — I could not stand by and do nothing for Asphi, not after everything she has done for me."*
The second monitor showed Lumie, her expression calm but resolute — the composed bearing of the Alnilam Heavy Industries heiress.
"Thank you both for responding so quickly. Katrine, Lumie."
Ledea faced the screens and bowed, genuinely.
"I sent a brief encrypted message earlier, but let me explain everything properly now, in our own words."
In the stillness of the Silver Anchor's living room, Ledea, Shutia, Kanoa, and Sati all turned toward the hologram monitors. Ledea took a quiet breath, and began.
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2. A Will Beyond Pride, and Wings to Chase the Future
"— That is everything that happened in the abandoned factory."
When Ledea finished speaking, a heavy silence settled over the room.
On the other side of the monitors, Katrine and Lumie said nothing. In the room itself, Sati said nothing. The facts sat in the air and were simply absorbed.
"Liminal Flux..."
On the screen, Lumie repeated the words quietly, her expression grave. Even for someone with her breadth of technical knowledge — the daughter of a company that worked at the frontier of space engineering — this was something that strained belief. A genuine unknown.
"I can't believe it... And Ledea, you went through the same thing thirteen years ago...?"
Sati looked between Ledea and Shutia, unable to hide her shock. She had been close to the Mace sisters for a long time — close enough to maintain their ship, to know their rhythms — and none of this had she known.
The silence tightened. And in the middle of it, Katrine — who could normally be counted on to fill any pause with her own voice — was uncharacteristically still. Shutia noticed, and looked at her with something like curiosity.
That was the moment Katrine spoke.
"Shutia. That data you recorded — send it to me. Now."
Her voice was sharp. It was also completely certain.
"Katrine... you think you can do something with it?"
Katrine tossed her golden ringlets with theatrical extravagance and gave her most insufferable smile.
"Who do you think you're talking to? I am the Galaxy's Premier Analyst. Did you imagine something like this was beyond me?"
Shutia looked at her with an extremely flat expression.
"Hmm... I'm not sure an auntie can handle calculations that advanced."
"I am still in my twenties! Who are you calling an auntie! Just send it, and do it now — are we clear?!"
"Yes, yes, fine..."
Shutia shook her head with a tired smile and transferred twelve years of tracking data to Katrine's terminal.
"I will immediately arrange for Alnilam Heavy Industries' top analysis team to be assembled and work jointly with Katrine on the data."
Lumie followed without missing a beat. The offer of a major corporation's full research capacity behind them — Ledea let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Thank you. Both of you."
"...Thank you."
Kanoa's voice came after Ledea's, quiet and small, but from somewhere real.
"Oh, everyone is so incredible... I'm a mechanic — I can't do anything with data analysis that complicated — I want to help but I don't know how..."
Sati was the only one still turning over the problem, her ponytail drooping slightly.
"Sati — that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to ask you to do a full refit of the Silver Anchor."
Everyone in the room went quiet to listen.
"Sis, me, and Kanoa — the three of us are going to take this ship to find Asphi."
"What?"
The voice most surprised was Kanoa's own.
"But — I have my own ship, I couldn't possibly —"
Ledea cut gently across her.
"The Aqua Ignition's main pilot was Asphi. You can fly it, of course — but there are limits to what one person can do alone. And more than that." She paused. "I am not leaving you on your own. Come with us. The Luna Geist is too cramped for three people over a long journey — the Silver Anchor is the right ship for this."
"But — this is my problem, mine and Asphi sis's — I've already put you through enough, I can't keep —"
Shutia looked at her and smiled, simply and warmly.
"What are you saying. Kanoa — you were there when Vizarde had us cornered. You helped us. You're someone we owe a great deal to." She tilted her head slightly. "So let us pay it back. Please."
She glanced at Ledea beside her, and they both nodded.
The warmth that had been extended once — travelling its long way around — had come back as a shield. Kanoa's eyes went wide as she took it in. She closed them tightly for a moment, holding something back. Then she nodded, quietly.
"— All right, then this is where I come in! Leave it to me!"
Sati's face lit up entirely. She clenched her fist.
"I'll push this ship as far as it can go — interstellar travel, tracking through uncharted space, whatever it takes, I'll rebuild it from the ground up! ...Although, I'm not sure I have parts at the shop that can handle output levels like that..."
"Leave that to me."
Lumie smiled gracefully through the hologram.
"Alnilam Heavy Industries will provide the finest custom components we have. ...Ledea — it goes without saying, but you want this refit to include full combat capability as well, correct?"
Ledea held a brief silence. Under ordinary circumstances — the circumstances she had lived in for years — she would have hesitated here. The Silver Anchor was a work vessel. That had meant something to her.
The hesitation did not come.
"Yes. Please. ...Right now, I have decided that I will move for the future of my dear friends and the people I owe — not for my pride as a work ship's captain."
On the monitor, Katrine made a small sound of satisfaction.
"Hm. Now that is the right answer. — Useless sister. You had better hold yourself together and protect Ledea and Kanoa with everything you have. And you will bring Asphi back. Is that understood?"
"I know that already, auntie."
"You incorrigible little — stop calling me auntie!"
The argument that filled the room was exactly what it always was — loud, pointless, and somehow entirely right for the moment. Kanoa was watching it. The tension that had been locked in her face was breaking apart. Tears were running down her cheeks.
But her lips, quietly, were smiling.