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[14][19] The file burns in your hands as you maintain eye contact with him, a soft smile curls your lips. You can feel his discomfort... and you enjoy it. You don't break eye contact with him until the file drifts down in ashes. Captain Zachary dips his head once more in a nod, straightening as he turns to leave. Emma bores holes in his back until the door shuts behind him.

"I always hated power politics, but no man rules alone." The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you contemplate the ashes and Emma stares at the door. Eventually, she claps her hands, snapping you out of your reverie, "We'll be going to see the armorsmith next, Pheobe. Or do you want to spend the day in bed? At this point, either works for me." You note her defiance and the hand on her belt, where her holster would be, if she had one.

"The old and the smart say that compromise is important for relationships." Emma sniffs, letting you take the time you need. When your anger burns at a slow simmer, you call Zachary in. He steps smartly in, las-rifle on his back, helmet in hand. He has a folder of paper, and he calmly explains, "The Foster Brothers, Johnathan Shellton, Erica Hail, Quincy Black, and Eric Armstrong all agreed, Mother Alphira. They were already half-way through Crusader Basic Training, so we can rotate them in in about another three months. That is all I have to report." He bends his back in a half-bow to you, and you notice Emma watching him like a hawk, with hostile intent.

"Permission to speak freely, Mother Alphira?" He's still in a half-bow, his hands lifted slightly away from the pistol and knife at his side. His palms up, facing towards you, showing you he's unarmed, you realize all at once.

---

[-]When you write it out for her, Emma's fair face curls into something dispassionate and icy. You've seen her like this before, with William; a fit of sudden cold anger. "Fuck her." Is her whispered verbal response for a long time as she wrestles with her fury. Then its contained.

Emma wraps you in a sudden tight hug, breathing in and out hard, before carefully and quickly whispering, right in your ear, something that sends chills up your spine, "Did it come from a trustworthy source? It matches why the guard tried to grab me, and the Pontifex intervened. Black Nicky is a brutal pragmatist, and the script is a higher level." She kisses your cheek and pulls away, taking a seat on your bed, trying to speak more casually.

"Time for love later, Pheobe." She gives a forced giggle, smiling through her teeth as she carefully twists the conversation towards the soldiers under your direct command. "We have to prepare for war. William...William wants to advertise something, and promises soldiers good enough to take on a fully grown [insect] on their lonesome. It would be well within your powers to approve them as part of your command."

[-] Stifling a yawn, you leave the training room and head towards Emma's room, only to find it empty. You return to your own room, and despite never having been given it, you find the folder securely beneath a spare uniform in your closet. You don't know who might have put it there, but it isn't a surprise that someone has given it to you. You pop it open and skim through it.

[12 vs 9] A rush of anger consumes you, and you feel your powers react instinctively, violently. You focus on breathing, on repeating your mantra to yourself to reaffirm just who you are and what you're doing. Your blood boils with barely contained rage.

...primary containment agent of Project Angel of Fire, also known as Alphira, Pheobe Gainer, is two-fold. Emma Thornton of the Thornton Family is a high-value emotional connection to the target. Primary containment is to secure and hold Emma Thornton in the event of Alphira losing control, destroying vital property with ill intent, possession of weapons not signed off on, and any hostile action or words directed at SEED. Should Alphira violate these procedures, its is to be made clear to her that Emma Thornton's future survival will be in jeopardy should such actions persist. Further action will be taken as needed, up to termination of both Emma and the Project...

...Secondary containment is the holding of myself, Nicole Gainer, as a hostage to ensure her good intentions should Primary Containment methods fail...see appendix section eight for further details as to my relationship with the subject...Emma Thornton has a higher emotional connection to the subject, so great caution should go into retaining her and keeping her close to the Holy City.

[-]Somebody knocks at your door, and you stow the folder away back beneath your folded uniform, your hands falling into tightly balled fists at your side, your knuckles pale from the force. Emma steps in, looking bedraggled and tired, but happy to see you. "I've brought the armor down, and I've got a great armorsmith looking at it. Captain Zachary also reports that several of our previous classmates have been selected to be in your personal guard-- he's waiting for you outsi-- is everything okay, Pheobe?" Her smile drops, concern appearing on her features, "Is your arm okay-- I swear, if Silas made you sick, I'll shoot him myself!"

---

"Does that happen often-- the pain going away that quickly?" Silas asks, then explains further, "The itchiness is normal, you have a chunk of metal sticking out of your arm to see if it gets infected. If it didn't itch at least a little bit, I'd be concerned I'm too good at this. Let me know if there's redness, swelling, inflammation or you feel weak and unable to move. I probably won't be able to do much for you, but its good to know."

"Now, you might want to leave before the debt-slave wakes up. I'm going to have to keep her on pain medicine for a while."

Nodding, you adjust the bandage wrapped around your new...implant, and wake up Emma, so you can leave. The two of you sleep separately, and you collapse into your comfortable bed for a night of rest.

---

[20] You sit in a classroom, listening to the teacher talk. Something boring about physics, about entropy, as if any of that matters. The class is, as always, respectful, silent, and...nearly empty. But you drift, staring out into inky blackness. Outside the window, a grey ball turns around a fading red star...

"Alphira, could you--"

"We're dead anyway. Why does any of this matter?!" The teacher stares at you in silence, then calls on another student.

---

You awaken, rubbing at your arm, which, you note, has healed around the injury fairly quickly, the surgical wound already scabbing over. You rise and get dressed, sitting on your bed and trying to figure out your day. You could probably sneak out before Emma comes to wake you up and get more training in, or you could wait and talk to her about what needs to be done.

---

"Wonderful." Silas gestures the young woman to the operating table. She hops up without a word, undoing her jumpsuit quietly to reveal her thin arms and figure. "So, did you know that you weigh less than most women of your age, despite your musculature? If I wasn't looking at you, I would say that your height to weight ratio is incredibly unhealthy, but you currently show no signs of starvation."

He washes his hands in steaming hot water, slowly applying some surgical garb. He approaches the young woman, picking up the uncovered syringe as he does so. With a slow draw, he puts less than a quarter of the liquid into her arm. With a scribbled note, he picks up the scalpel. He shakes her, gently, then roughly, satisfied with the lack of response, noting that down as well. With smooth, careful movements, he ties a tube around her arm after checking her pulse. He takes a sealed package from somewhere beside him, cuts it open, and then slices a sharp gash across her arm. Blood still trickles out on to the operating table, but he's quick, pulling the stainless steel fin-shaped object from the package and neatly pressing it into the incision.

With deft hands and nimble fingers, he stitches the wound shut and applies a dressing to it, threading through spokes on the object.
He observes his work before carefully removing his gloves. "Some help, please, either of you. I need her out of the way."

You rise, taking hold of her legs and settling her limp, unresponsive form on a nearby bed. He gently covers all but her arm with a blanket and then turns, cleaning off the operating table with a foul-smelling chemical, washing away the faint traces of blood. Then he undresses his surgical garb, throwing his dirty clothes into a trash bag nearby.

"You next, Lady Alphira. Hop up."

Silas begins to walk, and you and Emma follow. Emma shoots you an apologetic look as Silas navigates the twisting hallways of the compound. He pauses for a brief moment, then looks back at Emma. "I"m hopelessly lost here, could you guide us to my lab, ma'am?"

Emma blinks, then takes the lead while Silas follows behind, close to you to continue the conversation. "I'm told you wish to experiment on yourself with implants to improve combat effectiveness. You intend to be fighting [the plague], which is no small task even for one with your abilities. From what I've read in the Thornton Family dossier on you, and the one the Scholar's provided; you have a great deal of regenerative ability, which may make the process incredibly simple or incredibly difficult."

"My first step in this process is to take baseline measurements, comparing you to a subject, a debt-slave I requisitioned, of similar age, build, and gender. Emma assures me you're a woman, so I'll take her word for it."

"After that physical baseline is established, we'll move forward from there. You have some resistance to the chemical effects of drugs if the Compound's medical reports are to be believed, but not a complete immunity. It may be as simple as raising the dosage or I might have to completely engineer an entirely new line of chemical compounds that work with your unique biology."

"Of course, these may be expensive, and I do not work for free, even if the materials are provided to me."

[-] The lab you step into is spacious, and, you notice with amusement, that is because somebody has haphazardly smashed down a wall into a nearby operating theater. A young woman in a grey jumpsuit sits nearby, and you notice, despite the difference in hair color, that she's of the approximate size and build to you currently. A strange mark is tattooed on her face in fading ink, the symbol of SEED. "Now, to be blunt, there are going to be a number of experiments conducted here that will injure you, but I'm sure you'll be fine. Please, have a seat." He gestures to a chair beside the one the other young woman sits on, and Emma looks uncomfortable, hanging back in the office portion of the lab. You notice a table with two glass slide on it, two very sharp scalpels, two crude metal syringes full of a clear, brownish liquid, and two bottles of a clear liquid.

"Or do you wish to see more work of mine to prove my point?"

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