#ah yes this space-time traveling ship that works in mysterious fashion ways

[sadlynotthevoid]

Ngl, the Ark of Miracle Nikki sounds like the perfect way to get characters transmigrate from a world to other.

I mean, imagine most people from TBOAH getting suddenly teleported into a massive (techno? magic? fashion inspiration fueled?) flying ship, which can travel through the space-time, because "your world is doomed because of an asshole. We're so sorry. Please feel free to use the facilities and rest until we arrive to your new home".

Besides, I would really like to have og!Cale befriend Aeon and Marina. They would get along, specially having in count that "new world" means their nobility is nothing. He wouldn't need to hide himself and they aren't from his world, so no precoinceived ideas.

Besides, Marina is a kid. Og!Cale would look at this cheerful lively kid and wouldn't be able to hold back his big brother instincts. "She's a lot like Lily when she was a toddler", he probably would think. (Because, yes, I headcanon that og!Cale spent a lot of time with Lily when no one was around and she was still "too young to remember". Lily isn't sure whether she dreamed it all or not)

And imagine Aeon introducing modern music to og!Cale. Og!Cale, who may had learned music when he was a kid (classic noble kid activity), liking many of these various styles of music, all so different from the elegant ones the noble likes and the vivid ones he heard at the streets and bars. Then Marina telling him that Aeon also writes songs, but warning him not to listen them in a way too serious tone (she's such a gremlin).

And between all that you still have the tboah characters aclimatizing to the idea of a new world, fixing relationships, and planning what to do now that their status mean shit (poor royal family. Ha.)

Just a transmigration story where the characters have time to talk with their family and adjust before being send to other world.

Maybe the world they're going to is the Soo's Earth. One that is on its way to recovery, but has way less population than before.

[novantinuum]

Moments Faster Than Light (original)

Words: 3000~

Summary: In an instant, her mind reeled in the wake of infinite potentiality, strung between a series of futures with no clear answers. But in the end, two choices stood out highest above the others. Loyalty to her empire, or loyalty to childish, hopeful desire? 

Genre: Sci-fi (in setting), drama, kinda an introspective piece

This is an original work I wrote for a fiction writing class I just finished. I set about wanting to tell a familiar, character-focused story, but set in a futuristic, unfamiliar setting and this is what I eventually came up with. Without saying too much, at its core I’d say it’s about forgiving oneself- and the often long and tangled path we humans take to reach that point in life. 

As this is an original work- and thus devoid of the normal fandom audience that would otherwise read my stuff- if you read and enjoy it, I would appreciate any reblogs or boosts you could give. Enjoy :)

Firsthand experience of faster-than-light travel was truly a curious thing, she mused, perhaps even borderline unnatural. The stomach twisting sight of visible space bending around the broad, riveted hull, distant pinpricks of light elongating into thin streaks as the ship accelerated to its maximum velocity, she watched the whole spectacle from behind a tinted window in the engine room a day ago. This ship was en route to a distant colony world at the far edge of the Milky Way, on an aid mission due to recent skirmishes against a warring human empire that had grounded all civilian crafts to and from the planet. Thousands of light years away, and they’d arrive in no less than a week. How haunting then, that humankind’s vessels progressed far enough to cover such an unimaginable distance in so little time. Considering that, it never ceased to awe her how they possessed the ability to cross the physical boundaries of— for many— what encompassed the lived space of an entire lifespan in naught but a flicker of the second hand of her watch. 

Tamara stifled a chuckle as she adjusted her uniform. While she’d love to follow that mental thread through the far reaches of the cosmos, she cut herself short. There was no time on the docket for such fantastical, philosophical musing today, especially since her last review haggled her for “having an occasional tendency to appear unfocused on duty.” If she truly desired the chance to redeem herself and impress her superiors on this mission, it was imperative she kept to task. Calloused fingers brushed against the metal pins at her collar, two to signify her rank as junior lieutenant, and with a distant smile she imagined what the weight of three more might feel like. 

Not now though, not now. With an intentional crack of her knuckles she wrung these ambitions from her mind, and eventually settled back into the comforting rhythm of her current assignment in the engine command room. Her hands worked with quick familiarity in unscrewing the back panel of a broken medical scanner, this kind of mechanical work engrained so deeply into her subconscious it no longer required her constant attention. In between other jobs, Tamara’s superior officers generally allowed her to fix whatever busted tech she came across, satisfying her desire for busy work on slow days. She was thankful for that kindness; it kept her thoughts from wandering too far into the shadows of troubling memory she’d rather not recall. Her main duty however, rested in monitoring engine stability. Whenever the main computer caught a taunting glitch in functionality, she diagnosed the root cause of the problem and instructed the handful of crewmates under her command on the proper fix. In the olden days of space travel she bet her job would be lost to droids or half-sentient programs, but in this age of technology one learned to cherish the presence of the human touch. That being said, thanks to the numerous redundant failsafes the ship’s builders no doubt installed into the main drive, glitches were few and far between. Hers was a slow job for sure, but still one of great importance. 

“Lieutenant Raske, may I speak to you for a moment?”

She lay the medical tech on her desk and eagerly spun in her chair at the call of her supervisor, meeting his gaze. “Yes, Commander?”

“I, ah—“ He squinted through thick horn rimmed glasses at whatever text the tablet in his hand displayed, face masked with stress, and for an instant Tamara’s mind fixated on every possible outcome of this conversation, desirable or not. “Sensors in the rear cargo bay seem to have picked up an unusual signature? You’re well acquainted with our sensor arrays, so I’d like you to go check on it. Honestly, I think it’s just a malfunction you’ll have to fix,” he admitted, absentmindedly tugging at curls of greying hair at the nape of his neck, “but you know what they say about foresight in a time of war.”

“On it,” she said with a confident nod as she stood from her post, secret relief flooding through her veins. New assignments always excited her. “Report back. I’ll send the data to your viewfinder.”

...♦...

Tamara strode through the sterile, winding corridors, the steady echo of her boots against the deck acting as her pace keeping pendulum as she passed fellow crewmates. Thick panes of UV reflecting glass acted as portals to the world outside their artificial gravity filled, climate controlled paradise. Some people on this ship envisioned space as a purely hostile domain, and understandably so. She certainly couldn’t blame them, with the steely eyed gaze of pulse canons beckoning their attention from just outside the hull portholes. However, when she saw space, she liked to extend her envisioning to the endless universe beyond the walls of her ship. What of the star cluster glistening just above the starboard bow, or the nebula spreading its arms through distance space like veins of ore in stone? In an ideal world, one where her empire’s safety wasn’t constantly usurped by the threat of the Solarians, she knew she wouldn’t be a military officer; she’d be an explorer. 

She scanned her badge at the door upon reaching the rear cargo bay and entered the vast, low lit room, a thrumming sense of anticipation for a mystery yet understood expanding to fill the unused space. After a few moments spent fussing with the controls of the light panel, she glanced between the schematics on her viewfinder and the shelves of cargo, vying to familiarize herself with this new space. Wide shelving units extended all the way to the riveted metal ceiling, ten meters above at least. Bins of provisions— ranging from food staples like potatoes and beans, to practical supplies such as thermal blankets and bandages— were stacked wherever they could fit. From her observations, she was nearly ninety nine percent certain this entire bay was dedicated to nothing but storage of aid supplies for the civilians at their destination.

Her gaze dropped to the viewfinder in her hands. Securing the data on the strange signal her commander had intercepted was child’s play, and she quickly devised that the sensors had been tripped by unexpected motion. The ping appeared to originate from a storage locker in the wall a few rows to her left. She bit at her lip, meeting eyes with this locker as if it could sprout lips and vocally provide her a rational explanation for her mystery. Perhaps something had shifted inside. Yes, that must be it. The boxes got jostled about when the ship jumped to light speed, perfectly reasonable. A new curiosity boiling within her core, she trekked directly to the wall and pressed her palm flat against the burning cool steel of the locker’s door. She gripped the latch, and after a second’s hesitance pushed up. A harsh metallic squeak pierced through the stillness like the memory of bombs dropping through the cloud layer, and the cacophonous terror that accompanied them. Tamara couldn’t stifle the shout that escaped her lips and echoed throughout the entire bay.

She saw. 

Within the locker, half concealed by thick shadow and curled in fetal position inside a storage bin, sat a girl. Her face was pallid and thin, and her pale grey eyes—  blown wide with an emotion falling somewhere between fear and shock— appeared far too haunted for a child of her age. The clothes on the girl’s back were faded, threadbare facsimiles of the gaudily patterned fashion she herself had been accustomed to in her last years on Earth. Something about her appearance, whether it was the familiar mode of dress or the overall shape of her face, tugged at distant threads of memory. The threads wove through glimmering constellations, through years of stories, dreams, and childlike laughter, and the reassuring warmth of a small hand clasped within hers. They wove through acrid smoke and muddled sobs, unraveling the knots she’d tied that suffocating guilt within.

She clutched at her communicator, unknowing. Unsure. Blood pulsed through her veins at an almost painful tempo, her chest aching from the pressure. In an instant, her mind reeled in the wake of infinite potentiality, strung between a series of futures with no clear answers. But as her subconscious tore through the varied consequences any one of these decisions might bring, two distinct choices called louder than the others...

...♦...

Choice one.

All crewmates must report unidentified trespassers to the ship’s command immediately. Any actions made against this protocol resulted in removal of rank and potential charge of treason. Despite the mounting conflict gnawing at her bones she knew this fact well; after all, it was a rule branded onto the souls of everyone in their first year of academy. “There’s no place for anything but skepticism in a time of widespread war,” or so went the claim. Tamara held her own issues with this rhetoric, but good luck trying to provide criticism to authority when one desired nothing more but promotion. 

“Please,” the young girl said with a slight quiver, voice clearly hoarse from extended lack of use.

She tried not to let the air of desperation sway her best judgements, or wedge itself within the part of her soul that achingly remembered the experience of being a sister. Everyone knew the Solarian Empire they fought against was not above tactically planting impoverished children as sleeper agents. As much as she desperately wanted to prove this child wasn’t a link among enemy forces, she saw two issues with this endeavor. First, exactly how would she prove that the girl was telling the truth? She might talk to her, yes. Perhaps she might question why she decided to board this craft, ask what her intent in doing so unannounced was. But inevitably, if one asked a spy “are you a spy, or not,” they’d deny it with every fiber of their being. Like it or not, trust wasn’t an element in high demand right now. 

Second, and most importantly, she wouldn’t dare endanger her entire crew on nothing more than a glimmer of childish desire. She failed in her vigilance years before, and look where that left her. Every action, every decision she made within her ranks... she dedicated them all to him, to the one she loved, to the one she couldn’t bury before she evacuated from Earth or even mourn, because there wasn’t a body left to find. As much as she desperately wanted to move on, she thought of him every morning as she attached her pins to her lapel. She carried him with her on her assignments. She carried him within her dreams. The pull she felt towards title of captain— the very concept of steering her crew through the most distant, ancient nebulas, through space never touched by the whims of humankind— resonated deep within her, as if the constellations had written this aspiration into the very nucleotides of her DNA. She hadn’t been alone in this idealized vision of her future. He may have only been ten, but he had dreams too. 

Two breaths, she told herself. Deeply, in for four and out for eight, feeling her lungs swell with stale air.  In a bolt of hardened duty, she brought the communicator to her mouth and pressed to talk. 

“This is Junior Lieutenant Raske, I found a stowaway in cargo bay R1 and need backup? Over.” She averted her eyes from the girl before she could truly see her reaction. (Although nothing stopped her from hearing it.) This was a tough but necessary decision, she told herself, picking at a stray string dangling from a hem on the upper leg of her trousers. A child she may be, but truly knowing her motives was impossible. And despite her reasons for stowing away inside a bin filled with potatoes, any other choice might lead to her punishment, to the end of the rapport and reliability she’d spent years building. 

Security arrived within the second minute, and she wordlessly stepped aside to let them through. The two officers grabbed at the girl’s arms, pulling her kicking and screaming out of the locker. Her furious grey eyes yelled betrayal as security whisked her away to containment. Tamara’s nerves now considerably shaken, she lingered in the cargo bay a moment longer to close the door and conduct a final diagnostic check on the sensors. A large shuddering sigh drew from her lips as she dropped her forehead against the wall. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the girl, or about the ruthless interrogation she’d likely be subjected to. 

At least both her crew and her position were safe, beyond a sliver of doubt.

...♦...

Choice two.

As much as she dared deny it, she couldn’t help but see her brother in the face of this girl. It wasn’t exactly a matter of resemblance; the only features they shared were grey eyes and similarly dimpled cheeks. Rather, it was their age. She appeared close to the same age Artie was when he— well, when she lost him to this dreadful war. 

She’d loved her brother. Over five years of separation between them, but their bond transcended that of normal siblings. By all else but title of mother, she practically raised him. Neither parent could ever afford to spend much time with their children because of work, but between scribbled sketches of spaceships and the endless mythology he invented at whim about every constellation that danced across the night sky... they found their own normal. She was only sixteen the day this “normal” splintered. It happened at the start of the current war against the Solarian empire, an old confederacy of worlds colonized by humans whose leadership had gone rogue. For weeks, a constant slew of news reports had outlined the mounting threat their strengthening forces posed to Earth, and yet she assuaged ten-year-old Artie’s worries and sent him off to school that morning anyways. When even but a fraction of the powerful Solarian armada crashed through the atmosphere hours later, haloed by fire, they caught Earth’s defenses by surprise. She remembered feeling the shockwave rattle the foundations of her own school, students pushing and grasping to reach the window so they could catch a glimpse of the cloud rising miles away, fringed with inky black tendrils smelling of death. Denial sliced through her heart first, followed by blinding anger on the day her family evacuated off planet. And once she enlisted in Academy, the last rotting sensation left after all those other emotions had boiled away was guilt.

“Please,” the young girl before her begged. A single word, unquestionable in its message.

Help. 

She thought of Artie, how his messy chestnut hair always fell in front of his eyes, the way he’d smile at her like she was his whole world, an endless ring of laughter as they lay on a blanket, stargazing under her old Earth sky. She thought of treason, of the punishment due to her should anyone catch her concealing a stowaway. Her actions might condemn her, strip her ambitions of one day becoming a captain into shreds. But should this girl be an innocent... a refugee of war, trapped between the lines of a conflict no child should ever be burdened with? She also just might save a life. 

Tamara’s pulse calmed, her path selected.

“I never saw you,” she said, meeting the girl’s eyes. Whatever words the girl planned to say next were lost in the slack jawed shock that followed. 

She gently closed the locker, plans already weaving through her synapses to adjust the parameters of the sensor array to mask the stowaway’s movement throughout the rest of their journey. It’d be an easy adjustment, nothing more than jumping a single line of code. As she walked back to the engine room, she tapped her fingers at a syncopated rhythm against her thighs, preparing within her the lie she must tell next.

Her commander stood at the far wall of the room, and apparently had watched her position for her while she was away on assignment. 

“Commander?”

He spun on his heels, greeting her with a trusting smile she knew she didn’t deserve. “Ah, Lieutenant, spectacular timing. Any findings?

“Negative, sir. Nothing of concern,” she said under the guise of confidence. “I’m almost certain the signal you received was just a glitch. It should be an easy fix for me.”

“Excellent,” he nodded, stepping away from her chair. “I’ll leave you to it.”

...♦...

Tamara gripped the handles of the storage bin and picked it up, muscles straining under the weight. Following her crewmates, she carried the food stock down the ramp and to the exterior of the ship, where the light of this colony world’s star warmly welcomed her. She deposited the bin with the others and inhaled deeply, appreciative that the air here didn’t leave her with a stale, metallic taste lingering on her tongue. In the distance families lined up in droves, eagerly waiting for the ship’s crew to begin passing out food and supplies. 

When she entered the rear cargo bay for the second time this journey, around an hour ago, the girl was nowhere to be seen. She kept a watchful eye for her among the civilians waiting for aid, but a deep hunch told her she may never know her full story. Since there was no news to be heard of a young stowaway found in the side lockers as they unloaded, however, she could only assume the girl slipped out in time. Of course, why or even how she trespassed on their ship remained a mystery, but as Tamara watched a solitary mother in the crowd turn and embrace her child tightly, she realized it didn’t matter. The only truth that mattered was that she put in her best effort to save her. Everything else was out of her hands, factors of fate. She leaned against the outside hull of the ship, the threads of guilt that had tangled across her soul for so many years slowly but surely beginning to unravel.

Wherever that girl may be now in this vast, mysterious universe, she at least hoped she finds what she’s looking for.

[itsclydebitches]

Summary:

Just days after Balem returned to his adult self, Jupiter is thrown head-first into another adventure - one she, frankly, really doesn’t have the energy for. But when has the universe ever taken her desires into account? Mysteries, promises, and desperate moves forward; bees, splices, and awkward family dinners. It’s enough to make even her seasoned head spin.

…which doesn’t even include the chance to play at ‘Mother’ once more. Only question is: will Jupiter take it?

(DIRECT SEQUEL TO “ROCK THE CRADLE”)

Fandom: Jupiter Ascending

Words: 18,708 so far

Warnings: Will eventually mention previous neglect/abuse of children

Pairings: Jupiter/Caine

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

Chapter Ten

Jupiter walked up into the Aegis and promptly felt like she’d entered an episode of the Twilight Zone. It was so disconcerting that she reached out, steading herself on one of the cold, metal walls.

“Easy there, Your Majesty.” T’sing’s hands came around Jupiter’s bare shoulders. “Do you dislike it?”

Dislike it?

Jupiter didn’t know what to think of it, because she’d expected ‘it’ to be the sterile, high-tech ship she’d traveled on months ago, the futuristic wonder that had saved her ass on more than one occasion. Instead, Jupiter had walked straight into an old-fashioned living room.

Not even a living room, her living room.

“I just feel vaguely like I’m having a stroke,” Jupiter said. She missed T’sing’s chuckle, moving out of her embrace to step tentatively into the room. It was, impossibly, exactly like Vassily’s home, down to the drab walls and thin layer of dust. Jupiter’s heels sank deep into the carpet, which correctly looked like it needed a good vacuuming—he might live with three cleaners, but they weren’t much for free work and Jupiter was sure her cousin hadn’t picked up a duster himself in decades. The couch was appropriately ratty and when Jupiter pressed her face to the old throw draped across it, she could smell mothballs and her mom’s cheap perfume. It sent a pang of homesickness through her that she wasn’t expecting. Which was stupid really. She’d seen them just last night.

It was all different now though, wasn’t it? They still saw Jupiter Jones, their daughter and cousin, toilet scrubber extraordinaire, which was great in some respects... but she also couldn’t deny that she was just as much Queen Jupiter, collector of lucky breaks and bureaucratic insanity. Jupiter looked down at her gown and felt another pang. She didn’t look like she fit in here either.

“Whoa, get a look at this!”

Kiza came barreling up into the ship, dressed now in a clean pair of jeans and a pretty white top with lace sleeves. She’d pulled her blonde hair into pigtails and the whole effect was to make her look young—younger than she already was, anyway. Jupiter saw the unmistakable outline of a blaster under her shirt and wondered if that wasn’t half the point.

Caine and Stinger followed with identically raised eyebrows. Guano brought up the rear, her wings momentarily blocking out the sun. T’sing let out a happy exclamation at spotting her and as the two women embraced Kiza skipped over to Jupiter, snapping pictures that must have been blurry.

Honestly, Jupiter wasn’t that photogenic. What ever happened to ‘three, two, one, smile’?

“Loving the contrast,” Kiza said. She pocketed her phone and made a frame of her fingers. “Title: Gorgeous Queen in Hovel. What is this place anyway?”

“Your Queen’s home,” Stinger said dryly and Kiza’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

She slowly lowered her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Jupiter just shook her head, oddly feeling better now. “Don’t sweat it. You’ve only seen the kitchen and our bedroom, right? The living room has always been a little more... shabby.”

It was true, though Jupiter hadn’t realized it until she said it aloud. They splurged on the bedroom because that was their place of rest and if you were cramming three women in there together it had to be comfortable, as soothing as possible and nice to look at. The kitchen, meanwhile, was the embodiment of their family—the space for food and conversation, the remnants of their culture after living here. But the living room? That was just a room on its own, a housing space for old furniture and toys no one played with anymore. It was a hodge-podge of things, colors, and textures. Jupiter ran her hands over the table she and Vladie had hung out at and acknowledged how random this space was.

Especially when it showed up in a spaceship. Fitting.

Jupiter spread her arms. “What is going on?”

Guano grinned at her, running past and launching herself onto the couch. It was like a tornado combined with an earthquake and Caine absently pat Jupiter’s hair back into place as went to set his weapons aside. Guano stretched out and got comfortable. She arched up to look at T’sing.

“It’s an interrogation room, yes?”

Jupiter stared. “You think my living room is that bad?”

“No, no Your Majesty.” T’Sing raised her hand imploringly while Guano cackled. Stinger just shook his head.

“Standard warship fare,” he explained. “Or police force, I suppose. Now that you’ve been demoted from the front lines.”

T’sing made a rude gesture his way. “This is my retirement, I’ll have you know.”

“You poor thing,” Kiza muttered.

Stinger tweaked her ear. “Like I said, Your Majesty, standard equipment. Space, as you know, is somewhat vast,” he adopted a vaguely sarcastic tone, “and it often takes a long while to transport criminals from wherever they've been apprehended to the nearest police post—if, of course, that post even falls within your jurisdiction. So, much of the work needs to be done in-route."

T'sing nodded. "It's not uncommon for the accused to go through the entirety of their trial by the time we dock. These ships are normally outfitted with lab technicians, judges, even civilians to choose a jury from." She gestured expansively to the otherwise empty ship. "It's a nice deal for them: the chance to explore space for the price of a public service they'd need to perform on their own planets anyway."

"But dangerous," Caine added. "They're rich fools looking for adventure. Then they sue when, shockingly, the police cruiser gets shot at."

Guano laughed and T'sing adopted an, 'well yeah, there's that' expression.

"The point, Your Majesty, is that this is indeed just a standard holographic system, though one designed specifically for interrogations. It's capable of re-creating any environment from the user's memory," T'sing laid a hand on her own chest, "and we use it to enhance our routines, create a sense of unease in the accused—or relaxation. Some simulations are even able to trick them into thinking they've escaped, or its all been just a dream. Humanoids will spill a lot if they convince themselves they're safe."

"And they want to convince themselves," Guano said, a rather evil smile gracing her features.

Jupiter wandered over to the far wall where T'sing pointed. There, inside the cabinet that normally housed all their old board games was some sort of machine, no bigger than a toaster. It actually looked a bit like a toaster too: square, silver, though ingrained with alien symbols and tech she could never hope to decipher. Jupiter reached out a hand to touch...before thinking better of it.

"That still doesn't explain why you want to interrogate aliens in my living room," she said.

T'sing blinked. "Oh. I don't, Your Majesty. I only thought that this would help your family feel more at home. I saw this room briefly during our... negotiations with that Chicanery fellow and thought that it would be a more welcoming sight than the normal bridge..." she trailed off, looking around at all the averted gazes. "Ah. They're not coming."

"Nope." Jupiter shrugged in self-criticism. "I 1000% chickened out in that regard and honestly? Don't regret it for a second. Yeah. I know. Mom and everyone need to get the low down at some point, especially with the Keepers scrambling their brains every few weeks, but at least I'm not dealing with them on top of Kalique and weird Encroacher people—"

"Encroachers?" T'sing said sharply. Even Guano sat up, looking worried.

Stinger rubbed at his forehead. "I'll explain on the way. Come, we'll be late as it is."

As Kiza gave them the lowdown on her theory T'sing moved to the front of the living room, to the door that normally lead into the kitchen. When she opened it though there was a familiar windshield looking out into the cornfields and a series of complicated buttons that Jupiter recognized as the Aegis' steering. For a second she thought her mind was playing tricks on her until T'sing lifted a hand and suddenly the whole view changed from vertical to horizontal. The door was still there, it had just... shifted.

"Okay," Jupiter said. "That's cool."

"That's technology," Kiza countered. "You humans are so behind. Kinda like our cell service, Dad."

"Would you stop with that already, you're driving your Queen nuts."

Kiza leaned into Jupiter's side, rising up on tiptoe to whisper: "Am I driving you nuts?"

"A little, yeah."

"Awesome."

Of course, Jupiter wasn't an idiot. She knew what they were doing. Easy banter. Lighthearted questions. Let's move away from the topic of family, shall we? And Jupiter did appreciate it. She knew she wasn't being fair to Mom or her cousins anymore... but she was also getting a sense of how much she could handle. Tonight was for a rather different type of family.

If 'family' was even the right term. Jupiter wasn't sure anymore.

At least there was family right here. That Jupiter could swear to. Guano tossed her a soda from the ancient mini fridge next to the couch and Kiza forced her to make room, fussing over Jupiter's hair and begging her not to spill Dr. Pepper on her dress. Stinger went to speak with T'sing—who kept the illusion up the whole time, for Jupiter's sake at least—and filled her in, as promised, on all the strangeness that had been going on—how none of them trusted Kalique as far as they could throw her. Caine kneaded Jupiter's thigh and confirmed that this was despite the fact that they could, in fact, throw her pretty damn far.

A pang ran through Jupiter at that. Just the thought that she might have been wrong...naive in how much progress she'd been making with her and Titus causing an ache in her chest. If they were truly up to something, it would be a lot like losing Balem all over.

Jupiter pushed that thought down though, stood on shaky legs, and went back over to the cupboard. The games were still there behind T'sing's tech. Ignoring mind boggling thoughts about what she was touching if this wasn't really there (or what she’d been drinking from that soda), she selected something to pass the time.

"Yes," Kiza breathed as Jupiter set the box down. "Hell yes!"

Guano snatched a card and sniffed it. "What is it?"

"Something you said you'd teach me," Caine murmured. Jupiter nodded.

"An ancient and beloved Earth past time. Well, not ancient, but definitely beloved. Brutal too. Prepare for civil war, guys."

Caine looked intrigued. Guano was practically bouncing in her seat. Jupiter called Stinger over and got T'sing to put the ship on autopilot. She set the box out on display at the front of their little half cirlce—Cards Against Humanity.

"Gimme the freaking 'Bees?' card," Kiza muttered, trying to sort through all the white as Jupiter slapped her hands away.

As she'd suspected, it was an excellent distraction. A memory to return to sometime. A little over three hours flew by and it was while Jupiter was trying to decide on an answer for "10% of adults admit having an addiction to..." that she looked up, catching sight of the planet ahead of them. The cards dropped from her hands.

"Wow," Jupiter whispered.

T'sing hummed. "Yes, Your Majesty. Welcome to Dithor IV. Wealthy, gorgeous... the perfect paradise."

"There’s no such thing as perfect," Caine said and Jupiter nodded. It certainly looked stunning from way up here—

—but then, it was hard to see imperfections from so far away. An easy enough fix.

“Let's get closer."