Chapter 2: The Second It Hit

For the first week of the month she was usually residing in the Chancellor's residence as a guest researcher in Fendel. She had earned the praise and respect of the Fendel Research Laboratory, now converted into a mechanical and bio engineering center led by her sister. Understanding her need for independent, unscrutinized work, Chancellor Eigen usually let her do what she wanted and go wherever she pleased. Only Captain Malik checked in on her from time to time. Pascal even had what she called an "uber pass" as she described it to Fourier, that would allow her access to the "super secret places." She only needed to report to Chancellor Eigen once a month with her proposals and present any newly made progress. These were the only terms of her employment. The rest of the month she was free to do and explore Ephinea as she pleased.

Pascal was once of the opinion that exploring was the best part of her life, as she was able to leave the confines of the Enclave and go anywhere, just as her father did. Most Amarcians would rather keep their distance from Ephinea's general population but the pure Amarcians were a dying race. Those who left the enclave for reasons other than work did not usually return. Pascal knew that few Amarcians decided to marry and have children because the family unit was not enforced in their culture. In fact, many Amarcian children are raised by elder members of the Enclave while their parents worked outside of it. They were not, by nature, a close knit society either. Rather, they were only the remnants of an ancient race that was once a great society, but most Amarcians living today had little interest in the past, let alone sticking together.

Pascal, like her father, didn't believe in the separatist stance prior generations of the Enclave had enacted, and when the current Overseer agreed to help Fendel and its people Pascal was overjoyed. It was her ticket to go explore the world and test her theories. Better still that she had made good friends during her journeys and ate as many bananas as she wanted.

If her father taught her anything, it was that science could help make people's lives better, or it could destroy entire civilizations. Pascal had studied Amarcian ruins and ancient Amarcian history as her thesis topic, but she hoped her work would prove to be the opposite. She had seen first hand that Fodra was the prime example of the dangers of science. She believed science should be used for the empowerment, protection and livelihood of the common people so Ephinean cultures could evolve together. Though people generally saw her as a happy-go-lucky type of girl, Pascal was no fool. There were some notes and ideas she knew better than to share with Eigen or any other world leader at the yearly Summit Science Meetings in Yu Liberte. Mecha dolls could be used as weapons. Cryas amplifiers could be designed as bombs. The unfettered use of her father's work posthumously had taught her that. She kept only one notebook for sketches, and that stayed with her at all times. Everything else, she kept in her head.

But there was one thing her father never taught her, and perhaps in hindsight, she should have heeded Hubert's message.

Never travel in a sandstorm.

Her head wrapped tightly in a scarf and donning a pair of goggles, Pascal struggled to see ahead of her as she dug her staff into the sand beneath her sinking feet. She couldn't even tell if she was going in a straight line. The people at port had warned her not to go, but it seemed silly to be so close to Yu Liberte and not try to get there as soon as possible. But the second the storm hit, she calculated the chances of her making it out alive as slim, and wondered if they would find her remains fossilized in the sand thousands of years later, like the famous "sand statues."

"That cactus looks awfully familiar," she grumbled underneath her scarf. She was sure there was sand in between each of her teeth now, and maybe under her tongue, but there was no helping it. One thing she forgot to bring was money, and so instead of using a transport she had to go on foot from the port to Yu Liberte. The journey was taking about a week, and this sand storm certainly wasn't helping. Several times Pascal wanted to turn back, but realized she didn't know which direction "back" was.

As she went over the stages of decomposition and her lessons from childhood about chemical reactions needed for petrification and fossilization, she heard a distinct noise carried by the thrashing wind. When she heard it again, Pascal was sure it was the voice of someone screaming for help and she started to run towards it.

Stumbling over the crest of a large sand dune, she slid down the opposite side with her staff at the ready. A group of desert scorpion monsters had happened upon a caravan that was tending to a broken wheel on one of the wagons. What appeared to be women and children were huddled inside the covered wagons while the men and mercenaries guarding the caravan were doing their best to fend off the monsters. They were more rare nowadays, with both Ephinea and Fodra's core stabilized, but they were still a threat to travelers.

These monsters were among Pascal's least favorite because they could kill you instantly with a single sting and her fighting style was not the up close, hack-and-slash style of Asbel or the sharp shooting killing style that was Hubert's. It would be all over if she was stung since she could not heal herself, but none of that really crossed her mind as she cocked her weapon and opened fire. A barrage of energy was released from her cryas powered staff and Pascal instantly segued into an inter-dimensional summoning spell to call in some heavy cavalry to end it quickly.

"Come forth!" she commanded and in a flash of light mecha-Sophie was in front of her taking down the enemy with laser canon fire. After the dust cleared and the spell ended, only one was left. Pascal finished it off with several shots and a combination whack-smash-thunk on the head.

When the confrontation ended, the men and women of the group thanked her profusely, shared their supplies and welcomed her to tag along as they made their way towards Sable Izolle.

-000-

News of the sandstorm had kept most travelers stranded in the small research town and caravans, business and government alike, were stuck until the storm passed. Like most towns in Strahta, Sable Izolle was protected by a cryas field that functioned as a dome keeping out the elements when activated to avoid sand sweeping into the town at times like these. It was a welcome respite for those coming in from the storm, but it was also a restless stay for those who were waiting to get out.

Hubert drummed his fingers rhythmically against the wooden table of the local watering hole and only half-listened to the idle chatter of his officers and the soldiers who had accompanied him at the President's request. Important research from the facility at Sable Izolle and funded by the government had gone missing, and it was Hubert's task to find out if it was espionage or pure carelessness, or both. Cryas research, especially since the world was nearly destroyed by Lambda, was a popular topic these days. Since the supply was limited, research was precious and if stolen, could possibly be sold to the highest bidder. Hubert knew his father all too well and part of the reason he accepted the assignment was to make sure the Oswell name wasn't involved somehow. The other reason was to escape the fashionable season when women had nothing better to do than try to set him up for marriage.

He drank his cider and mulled over the investigation thus far. He had no suspects and wondered if his last lead had gone cold. It was very unlike him to report to the President empty-handed, and his pride wouldn't allow him to overlook anything. So as his men talked, he went over his notes mentally, separating and grouping them together in his head.

The conversations in the bar came to a stop when a frazzled fellow burst in looking for a doctor. His wife was pregnant and had started to go into contractions when their caravan was attacked by monsters. Fortunately, a doctor from the port had been stranded in town when the storm hit and just happened to be sitting by the door when he heard the man's plight and agreed to assist. The innkeeper offered a clean bed upstairs and the traveler thanked him profusely and rushed back outside with help for his wife.

Another group of travelers sat down at an empty table and ordered refreshment from the bar as they all unraveled their dusty cloaks and scarves to settle in.

"Thank goodness that young woman saved us. Don't know what she was doing out there, but if it wasn't for her we might have been killed," said one of the travelers.

"Oh really?" asked the innkeeper as he served them cider.

"I've never seen someone fight with a shot staff before or summon things out of mid-air," said a young boy. "It was so awesome! One of the things she summoned was like a really big doll with pigtails and a humongous head!"

Hubert's attention snapped to and he half got out of his chair as his men watched him quizzically.

"Where is she now?" he demanded. The traveller looked a bit surprised at the sudden inquiry but inclined his head politely to what he rightly presumed was a high-ranking military official.

"I-I think she's still helping outside…." his answer trailed as Hubert headed for the door. But before he reached the entrance, a group of heavily cloaked women, one of them carrying a silver shot staff, assisted the laboring woman into the inn and ushered her upstairs. It wasn't until he called out her name that she stopped and turned to look at him. She blinked at him several times before her eyes went wide in surprise.

"Hu!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

He met her at the bottom of the steps and without thinking clasped one of her hands in his.

"I would ask you the same thing," he said as he observed her dusty form. Dirt was smudged across her pale cheeks and her goggles were still on top of her head, which was wrapped in the turban she had made to keep the sand out of her hair.

"I heard you protected them," he said as he did a visual check for wounds. "Are you hurt?"

"Heh, naw," she chuckled shyly. "Just ran into some really big bugs out there. In hindsight I would'a preferred if you or your bro were leading the front lines. I'm more of a back-up type of gal."

"I'm glad you're safe," he said earnestly. She smiled one of her radiant smiles and it almost took his breath away. She removed her foggy goggles and shook out the sandy scarf. As Pascal tossed back her red and white cropped hair, Hubert thought he caught the scent of Strahtan wild flower soap.

Pascal pulled away and marched rather unceremoniously to the bar at that point and plopped down in a stool. She then proceeded to remove her gloves and her cloak and bundled all of it in a heap on the seat beside her.

"What can I do for the young lady?" asked the bartender.

"Just gimme…anything." She sighed and ran a tired hand through her hair, resting her chin in her palm. "I'm so thirsty and all I taste is sand. Wandering lost in the desert really makes even cactus look appetizing. But, uh…I don't have any money." She grinned apologetically.

The bartender stared at her.

"Get her a fresh cider and a side of bananas," said Hubert, appearing next to her, placing coins on bar. His facial expression turned stern when she looked up at him. "Whatever possessed you to travel in the desert during a sandstorm? You could have died out there."

"Yeah, I s'pose I could'a," she grinned. "But I figure everything always works out in the end. And so it did!"

Hubert groaned both inwardly and outwardly. "I wish you would take a deeper interest in your well being and safety. What are you even doing out here?"

"Well…" she paused and grasped for an explanation other than the truth. "You said the sandstorms were pretty bad here. I thought I'd see just how bad they were… y'know… for myself," Pascal said, her voice tapering off. Even she found her lame excuse unconvincing. She tried again. "I was also interested in seeing how the cryas field worked. So here I am." Pascal smiled cheerfully and hoped the explanation was enough to satisfy. Alas, nothing really could get past those sharp eyes, as she was well aware.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked her seriously, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and almost frowning at her. She visibly shrank from the scrutiny of the furrowed brows.

"I..uh, it's nothing," she mumbled and looked away. She couldn't exactly tell him that the only reason she risked the sandstorm was to see him sooner. Pascal was still a little embarrassed that it ended up taking her twice as long.

You need to find someone who will take care of you. Her sister's words haunted her and Pascal frowned at the fact that her sister nagged her even when she wasn't physically present.

"What's wrong?" Hubert asked, noticing the sudden change of expression. Pascal wondered if he was always this attentive or if he was even better than she was at reading expressions. She looked up and gave a small smile, shaking her head. Finishing up the snack and chugging down the drink in the blink of an eye, Pascal sighed and looked up at him.

"I guess I'm a little tired from wandering around." She offered a sheepish grin and Hubert's expression softened again.

Listening to the conversation, the bartender added, "I'm sorry miss, but if the entire group of people you came with are going to stay here, I'm all out of rooms. Most other places are crammed with all the travelers hiding from the storm, too."

Pascal gave a little laugh. "Well, it's not like I have money to pay for a room anyway. Just let me borrow a row of chairs or a rug, or a crate and I'm good." At her elbow Hubert cleared his throat.

"My men are staying at the barracks of the local militia. I actually have a room here and there are two beds…" he began. A noticeable flush was creeping up his face.

"Why do you need two beds?" she asked innocently.

"Well, that's just what I mean," he sighed in exasperation. "If you don't mind, you could sleep with me." One of the nearby soldiers nearly choked on his drink while the bartender let out a muffled guffaw.

"T-That's not what I meant!" he stammered. "I meant, if you don't mind sharing the room, you could sleep in the other bed. In fact, just use my room and I'll find a cot in the barracks." The rest of his words stumbled over each other and he turned his back towards her in finality.

Pascal noticed that he did these things whenever he was flustered, and she found it endearing. She pat him on the back and answered loudly, "Aw, thanks Hu! If you don't mind sleeping with me, I'd love to!"

Hubert was about to admonish her to keep her voice down but he relented and gave up. He shot his men a serious glare and they all looked away as if the peeling paint, the floor boards, or the bottom of their cups suddenly became very interesting. He gave his men some additional orders and they shuffled out of the bar fairly quickly. Just as he was about to head back to the research tower Pascal caught the hem of his jacket.

"Thank you…Hu," she smiled softly. Hubert resisted his first inclination to gather her small frame into his arms and just smiled back.

"You're welcome. Let me show you to the room first." He looked over to the barkeep and added, "Anything else she wants will be on my tab."

"Yessir," said the burly man. Hubert ignored the wink he received and led Pascal upstairs.

The room was sizable, probably the best room in the house, with two beds, a bath, and a lounge area. Pascal felt a little guilty that other guests had to squeeze into less accommodating rooms but Hubert was an Oswell after all. Money was never an obstacle. The large space made her feel a bit small.

"There it is again," said Hubert staring directly into her face. Pascal blinked back to reality and realized his face was very close to hers.

"What?" she asked.

"That look on your face. It's rare. I've only seen it once before today, when we were about the engage the Little Queen in battle. You're always smiling, otherwise. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she insisted cheerfully.

She wondered when the mask she had worn nearly all her life had suddenly come off, or if in his presence she felt she didn't need it. In all her twenty-four years, Pascal had never really been understood, not even by Fourier. And yet, in this one moment, Hubert had read her perfectly, and asked her directly. For all his bluntness, Hubert was nothing if not to the point. Even his words had an exactness that skipped the fluff and demanded access while laying himself bare. With his one question, she finally understood what her sister was trying to tell her.

She really liked him. But she had no idea how to tell him.