Nina lived up to her promise and did, in fact, patch me up good. A few days of bed rest with some physical therapy, hidden with Corena and Boxer in a Concordia rental and I'm back to full health. The operation cost nearly all our pooled savings. We don't have enough to keep living in this city. Corena is trying to get a job from the bounty board. Boxer and I are more intent on finding a way off the moon.
It's strange being away from the Legion. A freedom I am unacquainted with. The days are unstructured and lazy—the vault hunters haven't been back to Concordia since we showed up so we don't have to flee for our lives again. Granted, we're all still on edge, but also enjoying our limited days of peace. We've all earned it.
I am free of the Lost Legion, years free of Dahl, but the vault hangs around my neck, in my bones. Our armor became too heavy and cumbersome and we sold most of it for food and rent. Yet I'm still wreathed in relics and bones. I have to keep the mask near me or I go into a spiraling panic. It's how I imagined a heart attack but of the mind. Slowly, then all at once, I'm consumed by a tidal wave of frantic frenzy before it is in my hands or by my side again.
Boxer lies on the futon with me, legs stretched across my lap, Corena curled in the chair across from us. I hold the mask in my off hand, feeling the grooves in the dense material. I dangle it off the armrest. The sight of it, precarious in the air, sets my nerves on fire. My fingers clench around the curved edge of the mask. I hate that I am like this. That the vault has built itself into my psyche. I don't want this anymore. I don't want any of this. I don't want the relics, I don't want to ascend, I don't want the glowing eyes, the purple rashes, the lack of sleep—any of it.
I hold it higher above the ground. Experimental. It takes a few seconds to calm my breathing. Corena flips through her book. Boxer mutters as he browses the ECHOnet on his busted device.
Take the plunge. Take back control.
I drop the mask. It clatters to the floor, splitting in two. My whole body jerks. Boxer startles, swinging his legs to the ground, asking me if I'm okay.
It's so wrong. I bite my tongue to keep back a groan. It's like I've lost a limb. An immense weight lifted and part of myself, gone.
It's not me, I remind myself.
"I'm good," I assure them, not sure if it's true. Corena watches me curiously over the top of her book. Boxer's trying to catch my eye. I can't stop staring at the shattered mask. I'm torn in half. I did that. Power, like I've never felt, fills my chest. Personal autonomy. I am not a servant of the vault any longer. Yet my heart screams seeing the mask broken and discarded on the ground.
Corena eyes it. "Finally," She says with a smile.
Boxer puts his hand on my arm, steadying me. I lean my head toward him in gratitude and he takes my jaw in his hand. I still can't fathom how the rough, papery violet skin there doesn't bother him.
"I . . . didn't think I could do that," I admit. I look at the other relics on my person, a resigned tired dragging my bones down. Soon. Soon I will be rid of all of them, but the drive has left me. I sink back into the cushions, Boxer coming with me. "I'm ready to put this vault shit behind us."
"You know what this calls for?" Corena asks with a grand smile, setting her book down. "A drink."
"You've been trying to get us to go to that bar for days," Boxer groans.
"Which makes this the perfect occasion. We can't stay here forever."
"You sound like Best."
Corena pauses, gaze softening. "Thank you," She says suddenly, "I think she brought out the best in me. I'm trying to reflect that more."
I glance over at Boxer, who offers Corena a smile. "I'm sold on that drink."
The Up Over Bar is the most well-maintained joint I've seen on this planet. It has tables, chairs, and a roof, which is more than what can be said for nearly everywhere else on Elpis. Bass rattles the floor through massive speakers, a smoky haze wreaths the floor, and Concordia citizens mixed with drifters fill the interior with ambient chatter. Posters over posters line the walls, advertising bands, bounties, and other shops. The freshest posters advertise the bar itself, which is on a closing sale. Apparently, the owner is packing up and moving back to Pandora, which, in and of itself, is a misnomer. Elpis may be a festering blister on this galaxy, but it is far better than anything Pandora has to offer.
Boxer, Corena, and I look like a pack of drifters. We fit right in. I'm covered head to toe, wrapped in sashes and mismatched cloth, with a mask and goggles wrapped around my head. The whole ensemble is hot and a lot of dead weight, but it's necessary for me to go anywhere without looking like I took a bath in slag.
Corena and Boxer wear what passes for casual on the moon, which means a windbreaker and work pants accessorized with combat gear and holsters, also a bandana around their foreheads to conceal the Dahl implants. Our kind isn't exactly welcome here.
Quietly and casually as possible so as to not gather unwanted attention, the three of us slip into a booth in the corner. Boxer cranes his neck to look out the window, taking in the sheer verticality of the city while Corena eyes a bounty board. I sit and watch the other patrons. Some sit in groups, some alone. A woman sits at an empty table, an ECHO in front of her. She chews a nail and notices me. I give her a polite nod and look away.
The barkeep—and owner if the posters in the front are to be believed—swings by. She is instantly enamored with Corena. Her painted face glows with a smile, flashing dazzling white teeth. Her overzealous flirtation has little effect on my thoroughly jaded friend. She wipes our table down with a rag, leaning forward and exposing a generous amount of cleavage. "I didn't know there were cuties like you on this side of the moon," she purrs.
"We are just passing through," Corena replies curtly.
"Ah, to where?"
Corena gives her a look and she backs down, hands up.
"Keep your secrets. I always love the mysterious ones. There's something so alluring about a hidden past," She sighs contentedly, clearly trying to get a reaction out of Corena. When it doesn't come, she falls back on routine, taking our orders. When she saunters away, she passes the lone woman at the table, who shifts. She's wearing a Dahl legion jacket. Our legion. The Lost Legion before it was lost. I nudge Boxer's arm and tilt my head at her.
"She could have scavenged it off the Drakensburg," Corena whispers.
"In that good condition? She had to get it right from the source. I'm going to talk to her."
"What? No," Boxer grabs my shirtsleeve.
Corena agrees with him, "We came here to keep a low profile, get drinks, and leave."
"I just want to talk to her. If she's from the Legion, she'll be sympathetic and maybe get us out of this awful moon."
"And if she isn't, she might blow your head off."
I stand, "Then it's good I'm wearing a helmet. Give me five minutes."
Corena tosses her head back with a groan. "Fine, but we're coming with."
We shove away from the booth and tread down a short set of stairs to the woman's table. She glances up at us as we sit around her, confused, eyes narrowing. Before she can ask questions, Corena pulls the top of her bandana up, revealing her implants. The woman nods tightly, tucking a strand of short blonde hair behind her ear. She eyes each of us, searching for weapons.
She is easily the most put-together person in this bar. Short hair held up around her face, clothes washed—her shirt even looks ironed—and she doesn't smell like watered-down booze. The cuffs of her jacket are hemmed, the stitches looking hand administered.
"You're with the Lost Legion?" She asks in a low voice, still taken aback by our appearances. Corena replies affirmatively and asks her where she got the jacket. The woman flushes, "Oh this? This was my mother's."
"She served?" Boxer asks.
"She was The Colonel," The woman admits, and now I see the resemblance. Same grand posture, same wide eyes.
"Britannia," I whisper. Her eyes snap to me, trying to find purchase on my featureless mask and blank goggles. "She told me about you, that you were here on Elpis . . ."
"I hadn't seen her in years, then I got word that she died," Britannia explains, tracing the ECHOdevice with her fingers. "I knew it would happen, but . . . I mean, it's different when it happens, you know?"
"Absolutely," Corena replies instantly.
"You were with her all that time . . ."
I nod. "She was a friend."
Britannia pauses, staring at the table, having some internal conversation with herself. She lifts her head and meets Corena's gaze. "I was about to leave this stupid moon. Do you want a ride off? In exchange, you can tell me stories about my mother."
Boxer and Corena exchange a glance. "When do we leave?"
The daughter of The Colonel smiles, stands, and drops a few bills on the table. "How about now? I have a ship waiting at the Concordia docks."
A grin bursts through Corena's stoicism. "Give us ten minutes to get our things."
"Alright," Britannia returns the smile, snapping the ECHOdevice to her belt. "Let's get the hell off this moon."