- still late afternoon -
Artim looks through the spoke's wall at the podstack and says, "Calling poffs 'good kids' is like saying jackals are cute as puppies." He turns towards Katelle. "They're a kind of wild demon dog that's popularized throughout backtime mythology…. Doesn't matter." He looks back out at the podstack and squints at some movement in the common area on the roof. "Would your good puppies kill you?"
"Of course not. They're not bodyguards, and they love me."
Artim snorts. "Anyone who doesn't is a crazy Nathan. Would they turn you in to be 'retired'?"
Katelle taps a circle on the west wall and it opens. "No. Not directly or indirectly. They live with a lot of guilt and make up for it with directness. I mean, they'd follow orders, but only just that far. They tend to ignore hints. So basically trust that I know—"
"I trust you of course. This is despite your... slips from truth. You seem to be rather comfortable in knowing the adult poffs, but that's fine. I'm not jealous and I don't need to know the details. I'm maybe just curious if they are guilty about being poffs as you—"
"They're not ashamed about being peace officers. They have a lifestyle issue, which as you say you don't need to know about. Okay?" Artim nods and Katelle says, "We walk natural and boring like we were and then hug the side near the farmstack and toss a pebble at their window."
"Eastman and Pho share a pod?"
Katelle says, "No no, they just live next to each other."
"Ahh." He smiles and then stops. "Wait, you were being literal, an actual pebble really? Not a text or comms even?"
Katelle spreads her hands. "It's a thing we did. Good to remind big dangerous men of boyhood games, especially from a time they worshiped and adored me." She pats his arm. "It's just some psychological reinforcement. Nowko I'll keep in reserve, but these boys we're going to need.
"Imagine everyone gathered around to hear the centennial speeches, and our young charges are revealing truths like bombs." She mouths explosion sounds. "Even if I get my poff puppies to hesitate for a few minutes that would be so much said true heart with the extra slam of youthful sincerity. Dripping, as you said, with hormonal righteousness." She tugs her raven hair and says, "So one one true as. Just a quick chat with the boys, then we hurry on and settle in to our new secret headquarters."
"At the farmstack next to your known poff associates?"
She chuckles. "Of the nine hundred seventy living aboard, close to three hundred of us are under twenty. Even excluding the last originals, cause they're basically dead anyway, almost as many are over fifty. That leaves like three hundred fifty or so peers and just a hundred sixty-seven prime crew spots." She taps just above the left breast of her onesuit, right on a golden stripe, and a badge appears, Teacher Voune. "Anyone who doesn't have one of these is a passie, a mere passenger. We're prime crew. Some secondaries, some reserves, but still a clear divide right down the ship population." She holds her hands together and then pulls them apart. "I know just about every prime crew by sight and name. It's noticed if you don't. So you may ostracize yourself to feel closer to the passie underclass, but the normal thing is to have most of your associates be prime like you."
Artim sweeps an arm around the open section and transparent walls of the circular room, fingers extended as if he's selecting everything in sight. "I thought you knew everyone, including the passies?"
"Not everyone. Just the everyone that matters."
He sighs and says, "You make it sound like I got passed over in favor of you because you are friendly with everyone, sweet as a Glorate pie."
"That matters Tim dear. With everyone that matters." She taps her wristaid and shows him a picture of a severe looking older woman. "You think Milden is my big get out of trouble tap, using my pretty smile? Try Ms Oushu, the false heart of superman herself, and my wit."
"Uh, you're… associates?"
"I said she had pretty eyes. Then we had tea." She smiles at his confusion. "She does show an interest in most of her underlings. It's generally known the ones she thinks have a future get invited to tea."
"All I had to do was say she has 'pretty eyes', that passes for wit?"
Katelle laughs like a bird's trill. "That wouldn't work for you silly. You'd have to be subtle, a quick peek at her cleavage and then use the word 'uplifting' with emphasis in a completely non-sexual sentence. She's old and takes care to be as sexy as medical and professionalism will let her. As long as you keep your... head cool, she should be an easy woo. Don't be obvious. You did good wooing me with your charming gyme obsession and generally awkward manner. I hardly noticed the scent of horny desperation."
He flicks the tip of his sharp nose and says, "Don't forget general annoyance at having a girl from two batches back becoming my boss, and you being too pretty and nice to actively hate."
She pokes his chest hard with her nail. "Sure, like you don't love getting bossed by me." He grunts but doesn't flinch. She rubs the poked spot and says, "I'm guessing you were never invited to tea? Actually, has she ever even spoken to you one on one?"
"Uh no, I missed that chilling pleasure. No, I get Milden. I always get that russet-eyed manicured alcoholic. And, your dear Deputy Avidanst didn't like me before he knew about us." He mimes being choked. "Now, I expect my mere name summons a fantasy about retiring me some-way some-how."
The spoke car beeps and the wall starts to close until Artim interrupts by stepping out. The section resets open as he glances up at the day glow of the sunax, and then tilts his head down and scratches his nose as he says, "Imagine if they'd included a countdown, a clock, or something in the sunax Hub design, maybe just for the next pulse."
Katelle steps past Artim with head down and then stops and frowns at a pile of clothes on the grass beside their spoke's open wall section. "I would hate that. Every second measured. Every second burned in. The light, a lesson in futile life, ticking down to darkness and death."
"Um, okay." Artim puts his big hand on her slight shoulder.
She points at the abandoned mound of second skin and says, "Our finite supply of smart cloth being taken for granted like Nathan madness. I feel I should pick it up. Be a good Pravidian, a believer in the journey. But, it's not my mess, and it's not my job to clean up other people's messes." She glances up and notices his raised eyebrow. "Not literally, there is no 'Ship Nanny'." She looks back down. "I'm just applying for 'Ship Revolutionary'."
He stares at the kaleidoscope of onesuits and underwear. A rainbow of colors and varied styles, it's enough for a dozen people or one eccentric closet. As with wristaids, people usually just have one onesuit, with a design that by guideline should remain at least a year. None look familiar, and Artim taps his device to take a pic for identification later. "You could tap for janitor staff. You're all good friends right?"
Head still down, she says, "You know what's funny about being a woman in a sexual relationship with a man, sans partner contract?"
"Wha—"
"Watching him true heart to appease me with zero G effect." She tugs a lock of his soft sand colored hair and says, "Over time, as I'm pampered with affection and tangible presents I slowly, so slowly, increase the love G. Until on knees and begging, my man colors my nails while singing verse."
"Um, I love you."
"Good boy." Katelle strokes the hand still bracing her. "I am friendly with Oz by the way. Don't really know his assistants, or in the case of your brother, want to know. Reporting to the ship janitor directly a pile of abandoned clothes would burn some good-will I'd much rather save. He tends to think way more of my interest than the mere tactical importance of being on a first name basis with him. I'd rather not have my ass getting accidentally bumped and gripped while he roundabout suggests a love pod visit. Thus again forcing a continual and rapid reminder of how lovely his contracted partner is and that I would love to get her rabbit quiche recipe."
Artim snorts and she says with crossed arms, "So better to submit a request, which would go down on their little 'to do one of these days' list. After a few more complaints, maybe an actual visit from janitorial staff. In the meantime, this insult to civilized behavior will sit here, probably for a week more.
"All I need to do, my slightest effort, pick up the clown nest and take it to the podstack. A minute and done, the most efficient decision. Don't need to involve anyone else." Katelle spits in the grass with full red painted lips. "But, I will not enable whoever left it! They are not being held accountable. They probably expect someone like me to come along and pick up after them."
Artim scratches his nose. "Um, so about my assisting janitor batchbrother. He's probably just asphyxiating brain cells at the Funhouse. I'm sure he'd come by—"
"Enable change, not change diapers."
Artim spits out a chortle and says, "Sorry. It's just I can really picture you as a burnt out nanny right now." He pats her back. "Stooped over, rubbing an ache, with just that scowl you have now, but permanent."
"For the record I got bored not burnt out, and you are not calling Orto. I don't want you begging off to go drinking and worse now that lovemaking is off tonight's menu. There's a reason your brother's still an assisting janitor. I don't trust that red-bearded maniac, and I don't trust you with him. We are about serious business now. Keep your eyes on my tits and your mind on my coup." Noting his eyes obliging she says, "So what's to be done about this discarded laundry?"
"How about tap for a facilitator investigation?"
"Worshipers of Glorate do serve best when cleaning up someone else's mess." She shakes her head. "But no, Oz and his janitors have their role... including your batchbrother, bless his pure debauchery. If I asked someone else or volunteered myself to do this thing they are paid to do, am I encouraging them to not work for their tokens? Would that not then destabilize our delicate economy of rewards for service?"
She turns and grips his pinstriped onesuit. "Additionally, this pile of stinking smart cloth is a reminder that we don't have autobots picking up after us. But, we could if we just usurped superman and restored it all to the way it was once upon a time."
"Um, I've never had—"
"Can you imagine it? More messes, more salt in the water. The more things go wrong, the more maybe a feeling of 'huh, maybe having a little AI support isn't so bad'. And from that, 'maybe a little invirtu entertainment would be nice'. It's not just wannabe gymers like you that'd like to try out the hock up beds. There was a pretty good balance at the start of Destiny's journey. I mean, it's been suggested that there was. But, was or wasn't, who can true heart about it now?" Katelle slaps herself and her man on the chest. "We can try. We can spectacularly try."
Artim touches the top of her head with a little pressure and says, "Love you getting excited, but watch your angle. You aren't coding at all."
She tilts down her head that had been inching up and sighs, and then she squeezes his hand and says, "Let's go."
He nods and lets her lead him across freshly cut grass towards a road. "I'd have carried the pile of stinking clothes for you if you asked me to." He kisses her hand in response to a stony look and says, "Just saying a small thing I'd have done for you my true heart."
She pats him on the shoulder and glances over to the hum of a small-wheeled autobot coming around the far side of the spoke spitting chopped green. "I know. That's why I love you. You'll do anything for me."
He stops and looking down says, "Joking aside. You know I really agree with your beliefs. It's not just some obsession with gyme. I want our mantras to be sincere. I hate the secrets and the stifling tyranny… almost as much as you do. I also love you, but I am doing this because I believe in it." He adds in a rush, "Admittedly my adoration of invirtu entertainment and gyme—"
"It's a plus that you believe in it, but let's be honest about adoration. You'd do it just for a piece of this." She yanks his hand onto her butt and grins. "A firmer obsession and one you don't have to imagine. Just don't dump me for an upmin girl if we win."
He blushes slightly and uses his free hand to tilt her head down again. "Watch your angle or watch your mouth."
She smirks and then turns to the squat humming autobot and rubs an eye. "What if a prank disabled a bunch of these basic tasked autobots? Something semi-permanent, needing a foundry to replace parts, maybe even some AI assistance with x-tech integration." He makes an encouraging nasal sound and she says, "They can't be used for any of the critical maintenance work anyway, not crippled with the override. We'd just get tall grass and dirt on the roads."
Artim picks up a small rock from the green and examines chips and scars from a hundred or a thousand hits by mowing blades. "The grass still grows and the rock is still a rock. They mow and mow. They never stop. I'm trying to imagine the grass without their hum. I'm no ranger, but eventually, I think it would be a big deal to the whole habitat balance. Grass tall and seeding, maybe another grasshopper outbreak, like when we were kids. Or something worse..." He tosses the crisscrossed rock towards the road and watches it settle at not quite half the distance. "Short term, yeah, I think it could have a strong effect without threatening safety."
Katelle grips just above his wristaid and tugs him again towards Blue Road. "We need to think this all out. Consider our excess labor. We could just unintentionally settle things down by creating work for idle hands and be unintentional establishment enablers. Passie pride is mostly a synonym for self-loathing. I'd rather not patch the unstable machine when a reset can purify it."
"That what Nowko thinks? About the self-loathing?"
"My batchsister is the prime guardian for her daughter. That's her focus; the art tokens are just a side thing for her. And yeah she probably would agree with me. Most passies don't have anything worthwhile to fill their time. We both have batch siblings that fit that description better than Nowko and Orto, our poor brothers and sisters with no official duties at all. They spend their days philosophizing and spending their allowance on amberose rations. Happy and mocking in their ignorance, they crowd the bridges with bloated self-importance expressed in poor craft. I have a box in my pod full of ugly jewelry that would be cute except adults made it. Just something to hold in their hands when they beg, pretending it's a fair exchange instead of charity."
Artim stops walking and pulls his woman to a halt too. "Wow Kat, you sound a little angry at more than superman. You have some bad times with passies or something?"
"Almost violated by one, mocked by others I tried to help. Resentment stores up in children. I think I still have a lot buried. This superman stuff is filling me up, and all the darkness is spilling out. Or maybe idealism is fading with maturity and old demons finally free are possessing me with bitter wit and righteous disdain. Speaking of which, and don't take this as an invitation to invite him around, I don't think Orto is that bad; at least he is dedicated to his addictions and straight-forward with his crude thoughts. I do disdain him, but it is a sort of refreshing shade of it. Much less draining than what I feel towards the circles of do nothings that talk around and around about what could be if only someone would do it, but never any of them."
She squints at the sunax and then looks down. "This is where HR could step in as the hero. Zero zero, a complete autobot shutdown would be a win win for them, a second coup. Milden wouldn't get it. He'd be stuck on missing the tech and the general chaos of it. But our great manager and chief Miss Oushu would. Having everyone working, most of us doing menial work that should be done by autobots, while her and her cronies have meetings about ship culture and crew satisfaction levels. That's her dream Destiny. Plus she could scapegoat the passies, do a mass censorship and give all their wristaids to the barely wizards to butcher."
Katelle starts walking again and Artim follows as she tilts her head lower and says, "I've read superman transcripts with some pretty scary idle chat. Censorship and ship divide aside, having it their way, our lords and ladies would hold on to all our wristaids, to be dispensed at their pleasure, if at all." She pirouettes between steps and says, "It's all about control."
Artim claps and says, "Control and access. Like your amazing access to superman meeting notes. Do you really have a manager or supervisor that interested in your very interesting butt? It can't be Milden?"
She exaggerates the sway of her hips and arches her back as she walks. "I'm basically an uncertified information broker. And though my butt is that interesting the transcripts were from memory, post meeting from a stand-in." She looks around as the grass stops with a step. "I'll tell you who and how, but later."
They step over a raised blue border onto a perfectly straight light gray road that stretches the length of the habitat. To the left Katelle sees a dozen or so people scattered and then a clump of them where a bridge blocks further sight. No one that way is close enough for a friendly wave or yell. To the right just a few spoke rings away is the South Wall, even in the bright of day clearly showing the blackness of space. Well before that is the podstack she flagged for her poff friends and people that are coming into view from around the far side of it.
Katelle taps rapidly on her wristaid as she turns to give those that approach her back and looks up at Artim. "Privacy up, all four of them. Tell me when you recognize them."
"Okay."
"I'll just hug you close like a good clingy girlfriend."
"What if they're your baby poff boys? Technically frontal hugs break public affection guidelines."
She rolls her eyes. "Guideline not rule. You said 'I veer from guidelines'. So veer me tight, and if Eastman and Pho are present I'll turn and be sociable. And if they confess to having to take me in for questioning, then I will just stomp your foot and run. Simple."
"And why stomp my foot?"
She hugs him tightly. "The boys are in great shape. I'd never outrun them. But with a sore foot, I could maybe outrun you. Then they catch you, and you fight them heroically while I escape." She rubs his back and kisses his chest. "And while they torture you with stun sticks and endless double speak, you stay strong and true to your love for me. You say the countercoup was all your idea and that you dragged me along because I was too innocent and in love to know better."
Artim sighs. "It's moments like these when I'm reminded you got the teacher spot over me."
"You mean when you're reminded I'm your boss, in every way."
"Sure, and that you've got a scary manipulative mind. Not brilliant mind you, just scary... and manipulative."
"Thanks, so recognize them yet?"
"No, they left the road and are meandering to the spoke we left."
Katelle releases her man and looks at the four going about their business. "I think the girl is from batch eighty. At least one of the three guys I can recognize from here. He's a paker, and I've heard got the perfect personality for it, more than a little bit the bully."
Artim bares pearly teeth. "Yeah okay, I think I recognize them now. At least two of the guys are pakers. That job is made for bullies. Virtually none of the resolution training poffs get."
"Agreed, they are ones to worry about. Peace makers angling to promote up to peace officer, they will do whatever their facilitator says or, more dangerously, alludes to." She backs a half step away. "Of the secondaries they are the most insecure. You want to really zero zero them, talk about the last prime social they weren't invited to."
Katelle smiles and stares up at him and the sunax as she says, "By the way, have I mentioned trying to become a life coach when Margetta retires? I think I'd be good at that. Real inspiring. What do you think?"
Artim pulls her into a step. "Come on. They stopped at the pile of clothes and are looking at us. Probably bored enough to start something if we don't move."
She stumbles into a walk beside him. "Open hostility in sunax sight? They wouldn't." An angry yell halts her. "Oh wow they are. They sure could use some coaching." Artim steps in front of her as two of the men run over. She says, lips still in sunax view, "'Reason blue I will make you' would be my tag line. It'd flash on my door whenever patrons approached."
One is a bulky man in a personal checkered onesuit with alternating hand-sized red and white diamonds. Artim recognizes him as a paker named Rooch. In a crouch he shuffles onto the Blue Road towards where they were headed and says, "What zero zeros? Passies true as. Not crew. No, no self-respecting crew would leave such a mess for someone else to clean up. So you front huggers, just some passengers wandering true as perverts? No real business except making work for us crew and spoiling the day's spin? Come on." He jabs a finger towards them. "You two, too quiet. Don't be intimidated. Just wondering why you left the bridge." He taps his chest and his Peace Maker Manove badge appears. "See. I've got legitimacy."
Artim glances back at the other lone one, an olive-skinned short man who's also a paker and dressed in the official all-blue onesuit. His name slips Artim's mind, but the paker's eyes widen in recognition and he says, "Hey hey Roo! This is prime crew, the both of them. That's Teacher Voune and I think AT um, sorry sir can't remember your name."
"Artim Drakkin, but just Mr Drakkin is fine."
Rooch straightens and closes an open mouth. "Oh zero zero. I honest didn't recognize. With your privacy up, I made a bad presumption. I apologize. Primes should keep their ID icons public, makes patrolling easier."
Artim's mouth tightens. "It's our day off, and you all have your IDs blocked. Is that a secondary thing?"
Katelle pinches him and softly says, "Don't antagonize."
Rooch smiles and nods. "It is maybe. Hey something about your names tickle me." He taps his wristaid as he says, "So sorry for coming on so strong Mr Drakkin. I really thought you were disreputable." He stops tapping and looks up with a face-splitting grin. "We won't pester you primes anymore." He starts to step out of the way and then stops and says with finger pointing, "One thing though Assistant Teacher. You know your tag got bumped to orange today?"
"Shit," Katelle says just loud enough for Artim to hear.
The second packer says, "Oh and Ms Voune is yellow." She sees him looking at her with a slightly disappointed face framed with dark brown hair that she recognizes from her nanny days, a batchmate of some of her charges with the nickname Bark.
Rooch waves over the last man and woman, who now as a couple triangulate Artim and Katelle. "Orange and yellow, not exactly proper prime examples are you?"
Katelle puts a hand to Artim's lips and then spins a step away and faces Rooch. "Oh and your reason tag is blue is it? Mind if I look it up?"
The checkered paker crosses his arms. "You can't do that. You aren't working conflict resolution."
Katelle smiles and puts in an ear piece as she taps on her wristaid. "This is zero G." She looks around at the other three and pauses on Bark while she taps. "It's been a few years, but I remember you used to get bullied a bit. They still call you Bark?" She whips a finger to point at Rooch. "He still call you Bark?" Seeing the small paker flush she says, "Does he still treat you like a dog?"
Bark looks down and Rooch stomps forward. Katelle taps her ear and shakes her head. "I don't want to embarrass anyone. But one of you is kinda hypocritical about reason hues." She traces the wide golden stripes of her onesuit. "Rooch, yellow tag a hair from orange. Do say why?"
Rooch stops and says, "No no. I'm just barely yellow and due to reset next week."
Bark looks confused, and the last couple of their group uncomfortable. Katelle nods. "You all didn't know? Same work class, probably a work rule against it. I bet the poffs know though don't they?"
Rooch looks around with crossed arms and a tight frown. Katelle looks up at the sunax and then back at him and says, "With all those overtly aggressive gestures, and the way you yelled and ran over here, on play back it will only look like an attempt to escalate to a hostile situation. Your 'reset' might get a little delayed."
Rooch shakes his head and says, "Zero zero that. Your tags give us the discretion to presume trouble. We're peace makers. You're tagged, leaving a mess, and were violating public affection guidelines."
Artim snorts and says, "You didn't recognize us or know our tags when you rushed over. You have no cause to think we dropped that laundry. And, guidelines are guidelines, not rules. Spin off or I'll file a complaint."
Rooch angles his head down and says, "What's replayed won't have sound, and my report will get the benefit of doubt. I've also got three witnesses to your one. You aren't pretty enough to beat that Ms V."
Katelle clears her throat and holds up her wristaid. "I am that pretty and this does have sound. I'm also an excellent editor, not that that's needed here. Shall I replay…?" She looks past him and then looks down and says, "You know what, no need to break a privacy taboo. I don't suppose Eastman and Pho told you about their favorite babysitter growing up? I'm like a big sister. Do you know how they feel about anyone messing with their sister?"
She points, and Rooch turns to see the two named poffs in uniform black padded onesuits, hoods up. They both grip stun guns as they walk on the road towards him. "Ah, Ms Voune—"
Head level, Katelle says, "That's practically perfect Teacher Voune for you."
Rooch gulps and says as he edges off the road, "Okay, Teacher—"
"Practically perfect."
"Teacher practically perfect Voune I'm sorry. I didn't know. I uh. We got some patrolling we need to get to. So—"
"Fine. But Rooch." He takes a step back towards the spoke. "Take care of that laundry. Smart cloth should be better appreciated since we can't replace it." She smiles pleasantly as he makes fists. "You can just take them with you into the spoke and drop them off at the next podstack you happen by on your so very important patrol."
Katelle claps her hands together. "Be a good boy." Looking down, she says, "And this never happened." Head back up and hands spread she curtsies. "Now don't I sound blue reasonable? Now go!"
The four scurry off and the two poffs drop their hoods, pocket their guns, and approach until they're just within normal conversation range. The larger, Eastman, is both bulky and tall. Katelle appreciates his rugged handsomeness. The smaller, Pho, is lean and more beautiful than handsome. She sees him as a careful cat compared to Eastman's direct dog.
Katelle smiles and says, "Good to see you boys. We never get caught up anymore. How's work?" She tilts her head down a moment. "Thanks for the intel."
Eastman says, "Sorry for Rooch and them, Katelle… I mean practically perfect Teacher Voune."
"Ah, just call me Kat. You know that." She scratches her nose. "Can you check to see if Rooch dropped his balls when he ran off?"
Eastman snorts, and Pho shakes his head and says, "We'd like to be informal, but not on duty. Not with your tags. Let's keep this formal and short as we are actually supposed to be harassing you."
Artim gasps. "What?" He scratches his nose. "Did you seriously just say that without angle?"
Pho nods. "If you're curious you should send a request to view our new guidelines." He coughs into his hand. "As poffs we are allowed to day censor oranges, full discretion. In our report we'll say our guns were drawn to intimidate you not Rooch."
Artim squeezes his nose and says with a nasal hum, "Really. No facilitator confirmation needed. You can just grab the wristaid of any orange you see?"
Pho spreads his hands and says without angle, "AT Drakkin, how many orange tagged do you think there are?" Eastman holds up three fingers. Pho sighs and looks down. "Thanks. Yes, three currently, outside the retirement terrace anyway. Be very happy tomorrow when your temp bump wears off or you'd have pakers waiting outside your podstack ready to provoke something with relative impunity." He glances after the four that are now entering the nearby spoke, dirty clothes in hand. "Actually, you might not even want to go home until it wears off."
Eastman kicks a rock and says while he looks down for more, "What you do today anyway? They're no notes with the orange tag. Just that it wears off in a day, so long as you don't escalate. You better not be getting Kat in trouble. I only like you because she does."
Katelle points at herself and covers her mouth. "My fault."
Pho says with level head, "I believe that. You did okay with your unlicensed facilitating." He jerks his head down with a mumbled curse. "Watch my angle or watch my mouth. Sorry Kat, too used to our hoods."
His bulky companion punches his shoulder and says, "Thinking too much can be worse than a thoughtless act. I told you being dumb on purpose made sense."
Pho rolls his shoulder and says with head angled down, "I did over think. We should have just kept our hoods up despite the guideline. Believe it or not, but we don't have much cause to hide our lips when you aren't around Kat. You don't make it easy for the people that care for you."
Artim shields his brow and says with a glance at Katelle, "I don't know much about the history between you all, but today I think my crime was just making our deputy manager jealous. Not really Kat's fault if Milden's lashing out unprofessionally."
Eastman rubs his forehead. "I don't understand. Why would Deputy Avidanst be jealous?"
Pho glances at his batchmate with a raised brow and then looks back at Artim and Katelle. "Why would it matter?"
Katelle sighs and says with head down, "Boys it's like this. I adore you, and you love me, and I think it's cute. Even now that you've grown up all big and scary, I still don't feel weird about it; I think because you simply seem happy for the loving relationship I have found." She pats Artim on the arm and says, "Like I'm happy for you."
Eastman says, "Uh—"
"But Milden, your Mr Avidanst, and our deputy manager, he is something else. His is a sickness. He had no cause to orange Tim except to get him out of the way so he could bully into a relationship with me."
The poffs glance at each other and Pho says with a tilt after a quick glance at the sunax, "You going to file a complaint?"
Katelle laughs harshly. "You think our queen Manager would care? Milden is her darling lackey. At most she would be annoyed he found someone younger to be obsessed with."
Eastman asks, "What about superman directly?"
"A council of their peers, the rulers of the ship? You think they would let me knock their spin out of true?" She points up at the sunax while keeping her head down. "The false light keeps this grass green and watches our lips for a word of deceit. Are we still Pravidians or are we all just passengers now?" She straightens her head and looks at the two directly. "You remember your mantras?" They glance at each other and she says, "I made you say them every day. Come on say one with me now."
Katelle lets Artim's hand tilt her head down as she says, "'The soul exists only when the mind and body are free'. You boys think about that one and I'll be in tap."