The food service, seemingly, was the only aspect of Rainbow Rocket willing to acknowledge how many regions that the rank and file represented. There were always a plethora of options in the cafeteria. Some of these cultures were spoiled for choice, it seemed, and caused the menu to be ever-changing and occasionally grandiose.

That diversity, thankfully, meant that Saturn could have the same rice, fish, and miso that he'd had through prison, through Galactic, and all the way back to the point where food stability had stopped being a concern.

Somewhere in the labyrinthian facility, Cyrus would soon be waking up. Or maybe he was already awake, or maybe still awake without anyone to force him into bed. But, regardless, they were both creatures of habit. Despite the options, every bite they'd have for breakfast would be the same.

That thought put an oddly nostalgic feeling in his gut. And, if he closed his eyes, he could be back to any of those meals. The quiet year of domesticity before Mars had become their first recruit. Crowded daily briefings around the desk in the head office. That last morning where Cyrus had savored every bite as if he'd thought it'd be his last…

Saturn tried not to close his eyes more than he had to.

It was the second day of the dig and, with everyone already set to their roles and output meeting expectations, the grunts seemed more at ease in their work.

Maxie, by contrast, looked as if he hadn't slept all night. His movements were sluggish and skittish. His eyes darted from his work to the guards as he distributed research materials to the science team.

If a guard that cared had been too close, he'd already have been caught. Maybe worse. It was only by sheer luck that the security head was away for the moment, and none that were left bothered to notice that the notebook he'd passed down to Saturn could barely close. It was a poor attempt to hide two bulging, but neatly labeled, envelopes.

Saturn was far more used to working around suspicious guards. In a fluid motion that was masked by his other duties, he soon had both envelopes hidden on his person.

He transitioned smoothly back into his assigned tasks. After a reasonable period, and then some just to be sure, he tucked his own message into a stack of papers and headed over to Maxie's workstation.

Maxie casually talked through the team's progress as he flipped through the papers he'd been handed. His smile fell a bit as he came across the note card that had been concealed, and a bit more as he came to the end of the stack and realized that was all there was.

"Now," he said, carefully, as he tapped the papers against the desk. "You do realize that we're running short on time. I am unable to run through this project again." He gave Saturn the hardest look he could while still attempting to remain casual. "Are you sure the data is complete?"

Saturn took one last moment to think it through before he nodded. "I've compiled everything necessary."

"It…" Maxie dropped his voice down. "I'm not trying to insult you. If all you want is for him to be reminded to eat and sleep, I can get that message across myself. This is a prime opportunity that I want you to be exceedingly sure you are not wasting."

The words were… well they certainly weren't immaterial. Cyrus had come out of whatever situation he'd been in looking worse for wear. And, being who and what he was, he needed the prompting.

But what mattered, truly mattered, about the note was that it had been hand-written by all three of them. It was a defiant message that they were not dead, and they'd all been gathered once again by his actions.

Maxie couldn't get out of his own head enough to understand the interpersonal working of Galactic. Cyrus... There was a distinct possibility he'd have no interest in their status even if he caught on.

This was the only way to know if the shot had been worth taking.

"I know what I'm doing," Saturn assured him.

Maxie took a breath, and then finally said "Alright" even though he was still less than convinced. He tucked the papers into his briefcase. "I'll get these reviewed as soon as we get back to base."

"Of course, sir," Saturn agreed.

Cyrus had always ebbed and flowed depending on the way that his depression and motivation balanced out. At yesterday's dinner, the distribution had left him struggling just to stay on his feet.

That night he took his stance at the front of the room and, with hard eyes that demanded attention, scoured the crowd of identically-outfitted grunts.

It was an order that has commanders reveal themselves, and for once he was willing to wait. That patience didn't extend to the guards. One stepped up and muttered in his ear that he had to move on, and it was amazing the man didn't burst into flame with the intensity of glare he received.

But Cyrus, after a tense stand-off, did finally acquiesce. He took, the commanders noted with satisfaction, what seemed to be a reasonably-sized dinner. And then, with another hard, but fruitless, scan of the crowd he headed out.

The commanders took all the time they needed to untense their shoulders and return to their food.

"Where do we go from here?" Jupiter asked.

Saturn looked down at his tray of food. He knew, without having to have seen it clearly, that he and Cyrus would yet again be bite-for-bite.

"Stand down for tonight," He finally said. "It's been enough."