Confession time: I've had the rough draft of this ready for a little under two weeks. Sadly, the rewriting was a little more intensive than usual and the Olympics is awesome, so… well anyway it's out now and that's what matters right? This chapter isn't one of my favorites, but it has plot in it. Don't worry, I won't be going at this slow pace forever. Once I've done what I need to do I can start to hit the fast-forward button.

I am, however, very sorry that I haven't responded to many of your reviews. The first few reviews for the previous chapter I read and responded to fairly quickly, but I honestly haven't done more than skim the others. Thank you for all of your support, and I'll try to work my way through the reviews sooner rather than later. I feel that maintaining communication with my readers helps me improve the story and my writing, so I dropped a fairly important ball there.

Well, here's the chapter. It picks up about five seconds after the last one ends, but from Zest's point of view. As such, the chapter name is similar. (Also, I was having trouble thinking of a new one.) Please let me know if you spot any plot holes!


Chapter 9: Growing Pangs


Monday, June 2, 0065


Zest Grangeitz knew his flaws quite well. Among the most prominent were his social skills and his technical prowess, or rather the lack thereof. His success lay in his combat ability, his observational skills (when not in a social setting) and his knack at surrounding himself with talented comrades that could make up for his weaknesses. Zest found it mildly baffling that his ability to put a hole in a steel wall was considered more important to his success than the contributions of his subordinates.

Fortunately, Regius understood that. If Zest had been separated from his team for the upcoming headache… Well, no reason to worry about what hadn't happened.

As he followed Enforcer Harlaown into the briefing room, Zest scrutinized those already present. There were three people in the room, only one of which Zest immediately recognized. Admiral Crowbel was one of the three admirals who had ushered in the current era, a living legend. In a way, it was a relief to see her, as her presence very neatly resolved the question of who was in charge. But it also meant that this case was being treated very seriously.

And once again, it raised the question: Why was he here, when the navy had plenty of enforcers to deal with the investigation?

As he saluted, Crowbel nodded seriously. "At ease. Thank you for coming so promptly. I realize that this is very unusual, but circumstances dictate our response, not the reverse. Take a seat and we can commence."

Zest complied, his team flanking him. Harlaown sealed the door and took a seat beside a green-haired admiral on Crowbel's left. The woman smiled at Harlaown, who pretended not to notice. Interesting.

Seated on Crowbel's right was an older, male admiral. The man's bearded visage was creased lightly by wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and mouth, and his features were shadowed in a way that suggested he had been sleeping poorly. Zest's first thought was that the man was out of place, but he couldn't say why. Zest frowned inwardly. Such baseless feelings were nearly useless. Only when the cause of the feeling was consciously identified could he begin to draw conclusions.

The lights dimmed as Crowbel activated a projection above the table. A small blue world, splashed with brown and green landmasses, shimmered into view, rotating slowly.

"You will be able to examine all of our information later, but for now allow me to give you a quick overview." Crowbel summoned data screens for Zest and his team to peruse with a wave of her hand. "This is Non-Administered Planet 97, 'Earth'. Population as of last week estimated at 7.2 billion. A completely non-magical world, with a large number of divided nation-states in a somewhat stable equilibrium. Use of mass-weapons is prominent in conflicts, but nuclear arsenals are not used in warfare due to fear of destroying the planetary biosphere. The more developed nation-states have advanced technology based around electronics and the use of fossil fuels for power." Crowbel paused.

"It is, unfortunately, believed to be the center of the dimensional dislocation that occurred last week. I am told that there is a chance that there may be survivors, but…" Crowbel sighed. "Well, I'll let Admiral Harlaown explain the problem as she is more knowledgeable than myself in this area. Admiral, if you would?"

The projection changed, showing a three-dimensional map. A dot labeled 'Earth' sat in the center. Other dots representing various worlds were arranged around it. The greenish-haired admiral, who Zest strongly suspected was related to the young enforcer, began to speak.

"If it was possible, we would want to have forces in position over Earth, both to discover what happened and to render aid." Admiral Harlaown manipulated the projection as she spoke. "However, the dislocation has crippled our ability to reach the site. This is a rough model, but it should give you an idea of what we have to deal with. This," she highlighted a region with a red mist, Earth at the center with a few other dots on the edge of the cloud, "is the space in which dimensional space is too dangerous for our ships to pass through safely. As you can see, it isn't too large from this perspective. It doesn't impede us significantly in reaching any of the administered worlds, and there are no other inhabited worlds in the red region either.

"Outside of this," she highlighted a larger area with a yellow mist which encompassed a dozen or so locations, "is the region in which civilian transportation is impossible. We have been forced to allocate several ships to these areas to resolve this issue. Our vessels are sufficiently shielded that the yellow region is no significant danger to them. Trade will remain severely impeded for a few months, after which we believe the civilian dimensional transfer stations can resume operation."

"Is it possible to reach Non-Administered Planet 97 if we don't pass through dimensional space?" Quint asked.

In response, Admiral Harlaown selected Earth and a region just outside of the red mist. "This map is a representation of the distance between worlds via dimensional space. It takes perhaps an hour to travel between these two points under normal circumstances. However, the distance through normal space is much larger. Are you familiar with the distance limits of teleportation?"

Quint shook her head. Zest couldn't recall it exactly, as it had been years since he had learned about it and there had never been much use for the knowledge since.

Megane had somewhat of a better idea, with her more frequent use of movement magic. "Ten, twenty light-seconds, for me. Maybe as much as a light-minute if I really push it. I imagine a navy ship could do a couple of light-hours, what with its power reserves. It gets exponentially more power-intensive with distance, so I usual switch to a dimensional transfer spell if I need to transport someone a really long way."

"Exactly," Admiral Harlaown nodded. "If we used the entirety of an L-class ship's power supply, we could do a one-way teleport of about 60 light-hours, which is a huge distance from our perspective. But on an interstellar scale, that's nothing. To reach Earth through normal space, the shortest route is this."

As a golden line extended out from the start position towards Earth, the map unfolded to represent the distance along the skein of three-dimensional space. Or perhaps four-dimensional, but Zest didn't much care one way or another which group of physicists had the right of it. The line grew, and the map unfolded. And unfolded. And unfolded. By the time it stopped, the golden line was longer than the table they sat at, far longer than the few inches separating the two points in the initial representation.

"The distance through normal space is a little over two light-years." Admiral Harlaown said. "As such, we will be able to determine if Earth has been able to maintain a civilization capable of their former levels of EM radiation-based communications after about two years via a sensor we placed a few days ago. But our ships don't have the power or the supplies necessary to make a journey to Earth through normal space. I've been told that we need another month or so before we can put together a definitive timeline, but current estimates say that it would take decades to build a ship capable of making the journey, whereas travel through dimensional space will be safe a few years from now."

In other words, space is huge, we are small, and we won't be able to reach the crime scene for a few years, Zest translated. Which was completely understandable and unavoidable, but really brought the investigation to a screeching halt. Zest was at a bit of a loss as to where to go from here, but hopefully they had some leads to go on or this was going to be an exercise in futility.

"With no way to reach the crime scene, we would be left clueless were it not for a circumspect bit of luck." Admiral Harlaown continued.

Zest suppressed a smile. If nothing else, the admiral knew how to structure a presentation. He hadn't even had to ask.

"Earth is, or at least was, a world that had no knowledge of magic. For this reason, we believe that either an immensely powerful Lost Logia was accidentally activated, or, more relevant to us, a criminal from a different world is responsible."

Quint's eyes lit up. "Which means that we could track them down from this end," she concluded.

"They would probably need magical supplies, things they couldn't obtain on Earth," Megane said, following the train of thought. "They could have left some kind of trail."

Admiral Crowbel nodded. "Indeed. Of course, I don't expect you to find that by yourselves. I intend to have the entire Bureau keeping an eye out for anything related to Earth. Once something turns up, that is where you come in. You'll be based aboard the Arthra, Admiral Harlaown's ship, for the duration of the assignment. It is a bit of a strange arrangement, but what it really comes down to is that you'll have some added protection from the media and an Arc en Ciel if you need firepower."

And, of course, they would be answering directly to the navy and not to Regius, Zest concluded. Which was probably the entire point.

"Enforcer Harlaown will escort you over there after we are done, and Admiral Harlaown will explain in detail how this is going to work later." Admiral Crowbel informed them. "Sadly, I'm a busy woman and there is still one more thing for you to learn about before we're done, so I'll ask you to hold any questions about that for later." The elderly woman nodded to the other admiral, the man who had not yet been introduced.

"My name is Admiral Gil Graham." The man said. "And the other reason you are here is to investigate me."

Zest had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.


Momoko padded into the kitchen, leaving the exhausted children to crash in Nanoha's room. Shirou handed her a cup of tea, and she flashed him a quick smile in thanks.

After a brief silence, Kyouya coughed lightly. "So, forgive me if this is a stupid question, but what was that all about?"

Momoko felt the corners of her mouth twitch up. "Yuuno apologized."

Kyouya blinked. "For what?"

"Exactly," Momoko said brightly, then decided to take pity on her son. "Fate blames herself for Yuuno's injury, since he was hurt because of her mother's actions. Yuuno saw she was troubled because of him, and apologized."

"And thanked her," noted Arf with amusement.

"And thanked her." Momoko smiled.

Momoko could practically see the gears turning in Kyouya's head. "She started crying… because Yuuno was nice to her?" He asked dubiously.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but pretty much," Arf shrugged. "I could feel her going through a real rollercoaster. Once she started crying, she didn't stop until she'd cried everything out."

Kyouya massaged his forehead. "This is just one of those things, isn't it?"

"Emotional responses are rarely rational," Shirou said as he finished his tea. "And nobody feels things quite the same way-"

"You aren't going to give another one of your little philosophy classes now, are you?" Arf groaned. "Sheesh!"

"I feel so unappreciated…" Shirou sniffed. He cast a pleading look in Momoko's direction. "You still love me don't you?"

Momoko giggled. "Of course, dear. You're too cute to not love." She gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and he immediately brightened up. But before things got too far off-topic, Momoko figured she should get it over with. "Arf, do you think it would help Fate to talk to someone?" Momoko suggested tentatively.

"You can say 'therapy'." Arf said bluntly. "But… I don't know. She's been doing pretty well without it and I'm kind of leery about involving an outsider. There are a lot of questions we couldn't answer and, well, lying to a trained psychologist would be a lot harder than lying to a bunch of sleep-deprived hospital interns. And the last thing Fate needs is to be publicly known as a mage." Arf grimaced. "She couldn't handle that kind of attention. And I'd be lying if I said that I'm not at least a little worried about ending up on someone's dissection table."

"We haven't asked," Shirou spoke carefully, "but we can draw conclusions as well as anyone. And abuse can leave lasting scars."

Arf growled reflexively, but remained silent.

"We want to help," Momoko said, "but beyond accepting her and caring for her we can't do much. We don't know how to help her heal."

"You are already doing a lot," Arf argued, but Momoko could see her wavering. "…What did you have in mind?" Arf said reluctantly.

"I was thinking we could ask Shamal." Arf's ears twitched at the name, Momoko noticed. "With any luck she'll be able to help, or at least give us advice."

Arf rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "We, ah, might want to give it a couple days. You know, so we aren't imposing."

Momoko and Shirou exchanged glances, their finely honed parental instincts screaming at them. Out of the corner of her eye, Momoko saw her son facepalm.

"So, Arf," Momoko said kindly, carefully setting aside her tea to give the familiar her undivided attention. "How did your check-up go?"


"The familiar's words are troubling you."

It wasn't a question. Signum knew, just as Shamal knew that it didn't bother Signum. It was the blessing and curse of Belkan telepathy. The direct link from mind to mind was capable of conveying complete mental states, and while in enemy territory the Wolkenritter would never let go of any advantage, however slight, for reasons as paltry as 'privacy'. Not that the Takamachi household or a park could truly be considered enemy territory, but it wasn't exactly allied territory either. And even allies couldn't be trusted implicitly.

Shamal tapped her fingers on the seat of the bench as she waited for a family to walk out of hearing range so she could talk out loud, which she found more emotionally satisfying even if it was inefficient. Using the park allowed them to avoid disrupting the harmony of Hayate's home (or rather, apartment) but it meant that they had to watch out for prying ears. Once the danger was past, she spoke.

"It shouldn't bother me." Shamal grumbled. "I haven't killed or maimed anyone this time. I've done more healing than harming. Our Mistress is a kind girl rather than a warlord. This is the best incarnation I can remember."

"But it does." Signum stated calmly.

Shamal fidgeted as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "You like Hayate." She said. "You don't act any different from how you would if you hated her, of course, but I know you liked her almost immediately. You always make snap judgments, but that's fast, even for you. Why?"

Signum considered that for a little while. "She wants the three of you to be happy," the knight decided.

Shamal smiled and shook her head in bemusement. Anyone else would have said 'us', but Signum was… Signum. The smile faded, the corners of her mouth tugged down by her heavy heart.

"Considering what we normally do to helpless little children with strong magical powers, I'm not so sure we deserve to be happy." Shamal whispered.

Signum didn't flinch at the reminder. "It doesn't matter whether or not we deserve anything," Signum rebuked Shamal gently, or at least tried to. "Our Mistress's will is our will. If She wishes us to kill, we kill with all our strength. If She wishes us to guard, we will guard with all our might. If She wishes for us to be happy, we will do our best to seek happiness. Regardless of what we deserve, we have no right to make our Mistress sad."

And to Signum, that was that. Shamal sighed. "I envy that certainty."

The Knight of the Sword shook her head. "…Perhaps I am not the best person to discuss this with. I must admit that I can at times be… inflexible… in my views."

Shamal hid a smile. That was one way to put it. "Thank you all the same. I will not let it affect my performance."

Signum stood, but Shamal hesitated to follow suit. "Signum… do you feel as though we've been overlooking something?"

"What do you mean?"

The Knight of the Lake frowned. "…I'm not sure. I just… I don't know. It's as if… as if I am missing something obvious, something important. I've been having that sort of feeling from time to time, like there's a joke and I can't understand the punch line. Sometimes around Hayate, and today with Arf…" She cut herself off. "It probably isn't important. We should go back to the apartment. Hayate is waiting."

"Yes. She will be upset if we are late." Signum agreed.


"Well, I suppose it makes sense," the Investigator (Alpine, Chrono thought) said absently as she rummaged through a box of supplies. "It would be bad if word got out about an investigation into the admiral. People want someone to blame, and the media would lynch him, guilty or not. There would be a big backlash against the navy, too. Quint, have you seen the cup that I keep my pens in?"

"Yeah, I've got it here." Nakajima answered, handing over the mug. Chrono suspected it may have once been white, but it had apparently accumulated enough dust to be stained a grayish tone. Not surprising; there wasn't much use for pens or paper in the office these days. It was probably more sentimental than anything.

Alpine thanked Nakajima and put the cup on the desk. She searched through her box for pens and pencils and deposited them in the cup as she found them. "I can understand that they need an impartial group to do the investigation, but I don't like being put on the spot like this."

"If anyone can be considered impartial," muttered Nakajima as she put a small framed family photo on her new desk. Chrono snuck a peak, spying two girls and who he guessed was Nakajima's husband. He winced. Two daughters... She was probably more than a little upset with Admiral Graham at the moment.

"Don't be too hard on him," Chrono said quietly. "He may have planned to do something horrible, but… I don't think he would have gone through with it."

"Why do you say that?" asked Alpine. Chrono relaxed a little, glad that the investigators seemed to be fairly level-headed. "He definitely had it all planned out."

"Planning and doing are two different things." Chrono pointed out. "I'm not going to involve myself in the investigation into him, I freely admit that I'm more than likely too close to be objective, but I've known him my whole life. He isn't nearly as ruthless or calculating as he wants you to think he is."

"Why would he want us to think badly of him?" asked Nakajima skeptically. "We won't be convicting him of anything without solid evidence, but if he's playing up his villainy like you seem to be suggesting he's trying to shoot himself in the foot."

Chrono grimaced. "Exactly. Honestly, he isn't really in good shape right now. He's always been the sort to blame himself for things that go wrong, regardless of whether or not he's actually responsible. And after what he's just been through… I'm not sure that survivor's guilt really covers it." Chrono shook his head. "I'm not making excuses for him, but…"

"Don't worry, we'll give him a fair chance, same as we would for anyone else," Nakajima assured him. "He might be a potential criminal, but he's also a victim."

"Indeed." Grangeitz's gruff voice caused Chrono's heart to skip a beat. The man was so quiet compared to his two subordinates that Chrono had nearly forgotten the knight was in the room. "It is not our place to judge, but to seek truth."

There were a few minutes of relative silence as the Ground Forces team finished setting up their workspace to their liking, then Nakajima spoke up again. "Hey, Harlaown," she said. "I've been wondering. Why are you on this case?"

Chrono blinked. "What do you mean?" He said, not quite able to keep the affront from his voice.

Nakajima gave him an apologetic smile. "Well, from what I gather, they couldn't have found an enforcer with more personal involvement with Admiral Graham if they tried. It just seems like an unnecessary complication."

Chrono couldn't really disagree with that. In truth, he had wondered about that himself, but he wasn't about to go ask Admiral Crowbel what she was up to.

"I suppose it's the same reason that the Arthra is our base of operations for this assignment," Chrono answered, doing his best to hide his own doubts. "The admirals must be hoping that there's some sort of connection between the distortion incident and the dislocation."

"Distortion incident?" Alpine asked, leaning over to pull up the relevant files. Chrono thought that her uniform tugged a little strangely at her stomach as she did so, but Ground Forces' poor tailors wasn't what he needed to focus on at the moment. Well, alternatively she might be… no, this was a combat post so that was impossible. "Ah, found it. Wait, I remember hearing about this! You were involved in it, Harlaown?"

"About as much as anyone on the ship was," Chrono said quietly. He wasn't quite comfortable with talking about it, but this was part of his job, so he'd have to manage. "At this point I'd trust the timeline that we put together more than my memories, but the basic story goes like this. There was… something in the dimensional sea, we still aren't sure what, that was distorting time-space around it. We investigated of course, but nothing we did helped us to identify it. The captain eventually made the decision to approach in the hopes of reaching the source of the distortion. After that…"

Chrono shook his head. "We aren't sure what happened, to be perfectly honest. Our sensory capability was next to nothing within the distortion, so we don't have much to go by. The distortion suddenly started surging. One moment our shields were holding, then the next… part of the Arthra was just… gone. The captain cast a modified barrier spell, which kept us from losing any more people or supplies to the dimensional sea, but we were completely blind until after the emergency systems kicked in. By that time, whatever it was had left somehow, and we limped back to HQ."

"So you think that it's connected to the dislocation?" Nakajima asked.

"Maybe," Chrono sighed tiredly. "I mean, Earth was part of our patrol area, so just going by general proximity and similarity… it's the best we have so far. It might be grasping at straws, but it's the right sort of straw. And I think we all want there to be some sort of connection because that means we might get answers. We lost more crewmembers in one moment than we've lost in the entire time the Arthra has been active…"

Chrono could feel his emotional control slipping. He stopped talking before he choked up and looked down at S2U (when had he pulled it out?) which glowed briefly in acknowledgement of his attention. A large hand landed on his shoulder, and Chrono looked up to see Zest's understanding face.

"Why don't you go check with the bridge crew to see if any tips have come in yet?" Zest suggested with surprising gentleness.

Chrono nodded automatically, and slipped out of the office. It was a weak excuse, but Chrono appreciated the gesture. Chrono hated, hated, hated not being in control of his emotions. It was bad enough when his positive feelings got out of hand, but it was much worse with negative ones because that impacted his work.

The gently curved hallways of the Arthra were quiet as Chrono wound his way towards the bridge; at this time of the afternoon everyone was already at their stations or off duty and magic made the repairmen's work nearly soundless. Chrono relaxed a little, and took his time to soak up the silence as he walked.

Soon enough, Chrono arrived at the nerve center of the ship. His mother wasn't in her chair when he entered the room, so he figured she was probably doing paperwork in her office. Chrono's target was at her station, tapping away at her console, though he couldn't tell what she was doing. He descended the short distance to her.

Amy shot him a tired smile, to which he responded in kind. "Sorry Chrono, nothing yet."

"That's fine." Chrono leaned back against the desk. "At this point we can't control the pace of the investigation. We'll get our first clue when we get it. Really, I should apologize to you for co-opting you into helping."

Amy waved him off. "Oh, it isn't as if I have any other work to do. All of my shiny equipment is useless without anything to use it on. If I wasn't helping you I'd be doing secretarial work for your mom again."

The two of them let a comfortable silence settle for a few moments, then Chrono reluctantly stood back. He couldn't avoid his new colleagues forever, so he might as well get back to them.

Amy's voice brought him to a halt before he got too far.

"Do you think we'll catch them?" Amy said quietly, almost resignedly.

"We'll find them." Chrono promised. "They might be able to hide for a time, but somewhere out there someone has the answers we need. It's only a matter of time."

He didn't turn to face her.

"When I tell myself that… I'm not sure I can believe it." Amy admitted. "But somehow… I think you can do it."

Chrono smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. "No," he said, turning. "We can do it."

Amy smiled back cutely (bad brain, don't go there). "I'll let you know the moment I have something for you," she promised.

"Thanks," Chrono smiled. "I'll see you later."

Amy waved goodbye to him as he left. Not that he looked back to check or anything.


"We're home!"

Hayate smiled, basking briefly in the pleasure Shamal's words brought her. "Welcome home," she replied completing the ritual. It was a small change compared to the many other changes her life had gone through over the past week, but there was a certain giddiness to the thought that there was someone in her life to exchange phrases with like that. Four someones, at that. Four someones in her new family.

The Book pulsed on her lap, prompting Hayate to pat it reassuringly and tentatively change the number to five. The artifact's sentience was uncertain, but it certainly seemed to have a personality of sorts. Its tendency to float along behind her kind of reminded her of a little puppy.

Thankfully, it had ceased to do so in public after she scolded it.

"How did it go?" Hayate asked.

"Ah, fairly well." Shamal said. "Yuuno seems to have recovered fully, and Nanoha and Fate are healthy. Arf is…" Shamal and Signum exchanged glances. Hayate suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "…Somewhat belligerent still, but she has mellowed out a little."

"That's good." Hayate smiled. Of course, they weren't telling her something, or rather they were doing something sneaky like changing the emphasis of their words to obscure something. She didn't really mind; compared to the exhaustive reports of their every action she'd been subjected to from time to time during the first couple of days this was preferable. It was actually kind of cute how the Wolkenritter put her on a pedestal, once they had toned it down so that it wasn't obviously fanatical. Hayate still had a ways to go before she achieved her goal of integrating them into society, however.

…It was nice to be treated like a princess from time to time though. Not that she'd ever encourage them by saying that, they might start bowing and scraping again, but still…

"You can tell me all about it during dinner." Hayate decided. "If you don't mind eating a little early, we can start cooking now and have some space for the groceries Zafira is buying. I didn't really plan this out properly," she sighed. "I still keep thinking I have more shelf space than I actually do… But anyway, who wants to help me today?"

A mumble which sounded approximately like 'Food?' came from a futon in the corner. Hayate giggled. "Not quite yet, Vita. A little longer. You can keep napping."

"Wuh?" Vita sat up sharply. "Not napping," Vita denied, her lie betrayed by a yawn.

Hayate giggled again. Vita was just too cute. "If you say so!"

Shamal shuffled around Hayate's wheelchair to reach an apron, and Hayate tapped the Book lightly, prompting it to take to the air. Signum moved out of the way so that Hayate and her trainee chef could have the cramped cooking area to themselves.

Hayate quickly began the process of boiling water, and watched cautiously as Shamal, with intense focus, began peeling. It had taken Shamal several attempts at first (which was several attempts faster than Signum and several slower than Zafira; Vita had yet to manage it) but Shamal now more or less had it down. It took her several seconds, but she soon set aside her first and reached for a second.

Hayate sighed at the sight of the opened cup of instant ramen. Well, everyone had to start somewhere.

…Just a little under a month until her house, and more importantly her kitchen, was fixed. It couldn't come soon enough.


Miyuki pulled the front door closed behind her with a tired sigh. High School had started back up today and boy were the teachers making up for lost time. Including calculus. Especially calculus. Maybe she could get Nanoha to tutor her.

Her little sister could understand calculus better than she could. Life was so unfair.

"I'm home!" Miyuki called out as she put her bag down. A "Welcome home!" came from the direction of the kitchen, so she started in that direction. Three short figures impeded her way however.

"Hey there, Nanoha." Miyuki said cheerfully, before eyeing Yuuno playfully. "I'd say that it's good to see you on your feet again, but since you are the closest male to a pair of tearstained girls, I'm obligated to assume the worst."

To Miyuki's disappointment, her attempt at humor fell flat. She shrugged mentally; that wasn't exactly one of her best lines anyway. Well, time for big sis Miyuki to step in and cheer the kiddies up!

"Good to see you three up and about again," Kyouya said warmly, stepping out into the hallway just in time to steal her thunder. "If you feel up to it, we can get some food for you. I imagine you are all rather hungry, having gone without lunch."

"Ah…" Fate flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Kyouya cut her off with a chuckle and mussed her hair affectionately. "No worries. We all need a good cry from time to time. Why don't the three of you run along to the kitchen and help mom get dinner ready?"

Miyuki's annoyance grew as her brother (cousin, whatever) deftly redirected the kids to her mom's (aunt's, whatever) care. As the munchkins rounded the corner, Miyuki expressed her displeasure with a half-hearted punch to Kyouya's shoulder.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "What was that for?"

Miyuki glared pointedly. He knew perfectly well. This was her opportunity to be cool and he stole it! "I had it under control," she hissed, not wanting to raise her voice and alert the kids.

"Miyuki," Kyouya said resignedly. "Your ability to deal with children is… not exactly stellar. You are… something of an acquired taste."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Miyuki demanded. "Hey, don't just walk away like that, I'm still talking to you! Get back here and- Don't you shake your head at me! Answer me you jerk!"


Quint Nakajima enjoyed the little things in life. So she waited until Megane was getting a drink from the water cooler before sidling up to her.

"Seems someone has an admirer," Quint noted casually, smirking when Megane startled.

Megane coughed, trying to get the water back into the right passage. "Don't do that! And what the heck are you talking about?"

Quint rolled her eyes. Megane Alpine: tunnel vision incarnate. And she wondered why it was so easy to sneak up on her. "The kid's been eyeing you from time to time all afternoon. See?" Quint jerked her head in the direction of the desks. Megane turned to look and for a brief moment her eyes met Harlaown's.

Harlaown suddenly regained interest in his notes, and Megane's disposable paper cup died from grievous bodily harm.

"Oh, let it go, girl." Quint rolled her eyes again. "You're a single, good-looking, mature female; he's a male in the throes of puberty. He's being polite, he's not drooling over you, and he's not trying anything funny."

Megane glared darkly at Quint, who blinked. Why was she…? Oh. Oh crap. "Sorry," Quint whispered, averting her eyes. "I didn't mean to… you know."

Megane sighed, her face softening. "Don't apologize. I'll have to get past it eventually. He would want me to." Megane forced a wan smile. "Sorry for being so on edge about it."

Quint awkwardly smiled back. "Do you want to come eat with us tonight?" She offered. "You know that Ginga and Subaru would love to see you again, and you could use some down time."

Megane hesitated, but ultimately shook her head. "Maybe another time. I'm not sure I could handle their enthusiasm right now."

Quint chuckled. "Fair enough. Still, my door's always open to you." Quint patted her friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks." Megane whispered.

Quint smiled. It wasn't great progress, but these things took time. And Quint would be there every step of the way.


The silence of Megane's small residence was unremarkable.

There was something profoundly sad about that statement.

Megane liked being alone. It was comfortable. Safe. Of course, she wasn't going to be alone for much longer, but that wasn't a bad thing. She'd probably need to find a bigger living space at some point. Yet another thing to add to the list…

"Food, food, food…" Megane murmured. "Here we go." She pulled out some frozen breaded poultry (best not to ask what sort of bird) and got it defrosting on a board with an enchantment on it that sped up the process. She preheated the oven, then sat back and waited.

And waited…

…This was going to be a long, boring night. Maybe she should have taken Quint up on her offer after all…


"Now remember, use both hands." Genya Nakajima cautioned Ginga as she poured milk. "Very good. Why don't you take those over to the table?"

"Daddy, it looks brown now!" Subaru called from where she was using a stool to keep an eye on the meat.

"Alright," Genya said, helping her down to the floor. "Can you bring me the plates one at a time please?"

"Mm-hmm!" Subaru nodded emphatically, scampering off to grab the first one.

"I've put the drinks on the table," Ginga said proudly. "What should I do now?"

"Knives and forks for everyone," Genya answered. "Here you go Subaru, this one is yours." He put the burger on the plate carefully. "Take your time; we don't want to drop anything."

The front door opening and closing in rapid succession signal Quint's arrival. "I'm sorry I'm late," she gasped out as she rounded the corner. "Don't worry, dinner won't take long- Oh, you are a life-saver." She said thankfully upon seeing that Genya had things well in hand.

"Got caught in traffic?" Genya asked as he served the second plate.

"Yeah, I forgot about the construction." Quint admitted, and gave him a quick kiss before turning her attention to her children. "How was school today?" She asked brightly.

Genya tuned out the babble that ensued (he'd already heard it once) and handled the last two plates himself. "Everyone to the table," he announced.


"…So both of you should be in the same class as Nanoha, Suzuka and Arisa." Shirou finished. "School won't start back up until Wednesday, so we can get your uniforms tomorrow."

"Don't worry," Nanoha reassured Fate, who was looking noticeably reticent. "It might be a little scary at first, but everyone's nice."

"That reminds me, I need to look over Bardiche." Arf said. "I haven't had a chance to do maintenance yet, and since I'll have to make any replacement parts by hand I need to make sure to keep on top of things."

"Can you show me how to do maintenance on Raising Heart?" Nanoha asked hopefully. "I've put her through a lot lately, but I'm not sure how to help…"

"Well I can show you the basics, but I don't know much about Raising Heart." Arf admitted.

"I can construct a tutorial." Raising Heart suggested.

"Would you?" Nanoha asked. "You've been taking care of me, so I should help take care of you."

"Thank you for your concern. Fortunately, I can perform most repairs so long as my core remains intact, given sufficient mana and time. My upkeep requires minimal resources."

"You know, I should probably start teaching you again." Yuuno said. "You've got combat magic down fairly well, but I focused heavily on that and nothing else. Since we have more free time I can start teaching you more than the basics of barriers and movement magic."

"Can I learn too?" Fate asked tentatively. "I mean, it's fine if you don't want to, but-"

"No, I'd be happy to give you some pointers," Yuuno assured her. "What are you interested in? I can't really help with attack spells but I know a wide variety of support magic."

"Maybe… healing spells?" Fate averted her eyes. "I don't know any, so…"

"Sure," Yuuno said. "It might be tricky with your lightning mana conversion affinity, but I think I can teach you how to use magic to close open wounds at the very least." He turned his attention to Nanoha. "That's actually a really good idea. If everyone knows at least a minor healing spell and some first aid then training would be a lot safer."

Nanoha nodded. "Yeah! Let's do that."

With consensus reached, the conversation petered out, leaving an awkward silence that stretched out for almost a minute.

"So, anyone up for playing some board games before bed?" Shirou asked.

"Board games?" asked Fate. "What sort of games can you play with a board?"

"Why don't we show you?" Shirou said kindly.


Once the door to Ginga and Subaru's room clicked shut for the third time (the first when they went to bed, the second after the glass of water, and the third after exorcising the monster in the closet) Quint got to relax a little with her husband and trade stories of their days.

Thankfully, there were no dead bodies to talk about today.

"A ship?" Genya asked. "Will you be living there for the duration?"

"No, I don't think so." Quint shook her head. "I'll probably be staying there some of the time, like Zest is tonight, but we're still assigned to the same post as before even though we aren't working there. And if that doesn't tell you this is one huge mess waiting to happen…" She shrugged. "We're just doing all of our work on the Arthra for a variety of political and logical reasons that make my head hurt. At least it simplifies the chain of command a little."

"So you'll be reporting to Admiral Lindy, then?"

"More or less. There are a lot of people involved." Quint sighed. "Admiral Crowbel's is the person we're ultimately answering to, but in practice we're in charge on the ground, Lindy's in charge when we're on the ship, and hopefully we can play well together the rest of the time. It's hard to complain too much though. I like having back-up, and it doesn't get much better than this. Everybody's being reasonable and we haven't run into any jurisdictional pissing contests yet. I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Well, I think I've got something that will cheer you up a little," Genya said, reaching under the table. "Only took me a couple years but I got it done!" He proclaimed, handing a loosely wrapped object to his wife.

"What's this?" Quint asked as she unwrapped it. "A picture frame? Oh! You it framed it! Thank you!"

The photo showed the team of Zest, Megane, and herself after their first case together. They mostly looked the same, if a little younger. The real difference was…

"Megane…" Quint sighed. "She smiled so much more back then."

"She has had a rough few years, hasn't she?" Genya noted. "How's she been doing lately?"

"Better," Quint sighed. "She isn't depressed, not like she was right after Rob died, but she's still hurting. He was good for her, but… I almost wish she'd never met him. She'd be happier now."

"…He wanted me to help him pick out a ring." Genya said quietly. "He was thinking about proposing. Never got the chance."

"Life can be so unfair sometimes, can't it?" Quint looked at Megane's smiling face. "…So much has happened between then and now. Hard to imagine that it's already been three years."

"She certainly looks different." Genya pointed out.

"How so?" Quint asked. "Actually, now that you mention it, she does doesn't she? Can't quite put my finger on it. Hair's the same, height's the same, uniform's the same… Maybe she's gained a little weight?"

"I doubt it, she works out even more than you do."

"Not so much recently," Quint said absently. "She fights a lot more defensively lately. She's enhanced her barrier jacket, especially around her abdomen, but she doesn't take advantage of it. Always blocks or dodges instead of taking hits, even though she's slower than before. She doesn't drink anymore, which is one good thing."

The two of them stared at the picture for a little longer. Then Quint slowly set it down on the table and stared off into space.

"…What are you thinking?" Genya asked.

Quint stood up. "I'll let you know if I'm right."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Genya asked nervously as Quint put on a coat. "Wait, are you going to visit Megane now? What's your theory that it's so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

"Well, it probably could wait," Quint admitted, her eyes sparkling. "But I want to know now!" She grabbed her keys off of the counter.

"Shouldn't you call her first?" Genya asked, but the front door closed on any reply Quint may have made. "Wow. I haven't seen her that excited since Subaru first called her 'Mommy'."


"Laundry tomorrow, I guess," Megane muttered disinterestedly as she hung her uniform in the closet. She could get another day out of it. After some deliberation, she tossed on a loose tee and some shorts and plunked herself down on her bed to continue her research. She'd crash in a few hours, but it was too early to get to sleep now, so she might as well get some work done.

And it wasn't as if she had anything else-

No, don't go there, she berated herself. You could go visit Quint. You could go join Zest. You could go train. You are here because you decided to have a quiet night alone. Things haven't gone like you hoped they would, but you have it a lot better than a lot of people. There's a reason you are doing this job and it isn't that you are the only one who has problems.

She buried her face in her pillow. "And now I'm giving myself a talk straight out of a self-help pamphlet." She exhaled heavily into the fabric, then rolled over and busied herself calling up viewscreens of the data she had copied into her device (wasting twenty minutes filling out the appropriate forms in triplicate to make it legal).

"Well," she said with false cheer, "time to examine Admiral Graham's tax records for the past…" She flicked through the list of files. "47 years. Joy."

BZZZZ.

Megane blinked. Was that… the doorbell? This late in the evening?

BZZZ. BZZZ.

Megane groaned and closed the file directory, letting the screens vanish. She climbed off of her bed. "I'm coming!" She called as she marched over to the door, grumbling.

BZZ. BZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

What sort of impatient jerk was at the door? Megane hauled the door open, ready to snarl something uncomplimentary, but stopped when she found herself face to face with…

…Quint.

Megane slammed the door shut, then slowly took a deep breath. Okay. She was cool. She was calm. She was collec-

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZ-

She opened the door, grabbed Quint's arm, and dragged her inside.


Megane pinched the bridge of her nose. "You wanted to talk to me."

Quint nodded.

"So rather than calling me, you drove." Megane said, exasperated.

Quint nodded, smiling.

"And proceeded to incessantly mash the buzzer, rather than politely waiting."

Quint was nodding and grinning and bouncing with barely contained enthusiasm. Megane gave into the inevitable. "…Why?"

"CanIbethegodmother?Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeease?" Quint squealed, then faltered. "Oh, uh, sorry. I meant to ask if you were pregnant first… Why are you laughing?"

Megane gasped for air as she failed to suppress her laughter. "Oh, only you, Quint. Only you."

Quint laughed nervously. "Can I try that again?"

"No, no need," Megane waved her off as she got herself back under control. "And yes. To both questions." She gave her best friend a hug. "I'd never choose anyone else."


Author's note:

Okay, some of you have wondered why nobody has noticed that Megane is pregnant (at least before now). Because I haven't yet found a good way to make it absolutely clear in the story I will say it now: Megane is not obviously pregnant to a casual observer. Her 'baby bump' is small enough to hide with a loose shirt most of the time, she doesn't have morning sickness, etc., etc. Basically, my point is that her condition is not blatant, and any changes her body has gone through have occurred slowly enough that people who see her on a day to day basis are actually less likely to figure it out than someone new to the scene.

If you don't realize, Quint figured it out (or rather, thought it possible and ran with it) not because Megane looked hugely different, but because she stopped drinking alcohol and changed her fighting style.

Also, this means Megane doesn't have to hide it actively. Why she hasn't told her friends is something that will be made clear later (but not too much later).

I freely admit that the subplot centered on Megane is something that has developed because I forgot that Lutecia was born in 0065 and I'd already developed a team dynamic that I liked and didn't want to ruin it. (Incidentally, that's also why Zest isn't Lutecia's father.) However I think I've got something that I can work with, and hopefully something that you, the readers, will be at least ambivalent towards. There are still a few more things that I have to reveal to you (not that it's hidden, it's just that there's only so much I can realistically cram into a chapter) so be patient.

I know some of you have been hoping for the TSAB to discover Earth's status in the next few chapters. Sadly, that just isn't workable. I've been making an effort to treat this aspect with the perspective it deserves and that perspective is that space is so ridiculously fucking HUGE that without the ability to travel through the 'dimensional sea' travel between worlds is a colossal undertaking at best, a logistical impossibility at worst.

For those who haven't figured it out yet (and because I can't remember if I've stated it outright) teleportation does not involve the dimensional sea. Dimensional transfer does. That's why Shamal could teleport to the dojo, but the TSAB can't dimensional shift to Earth.

Speaking of the Wolkenritter: They are totally not missing anything important. Shamal is just being paranoid. Honest. Would I lie to you? Don't answer that.

For those who are wondering (which is none of you) Momoko Takamachi majored in Child Psychology at the School of Motherhood, just like all mom's everywhere.

Ok, fair warning, this next part isn't that important. At all. And it may also confuse you. Sometimes it confuses me, too.

Another thing that doesn't really come up in the story (and in this case probably never will be addressed) is that none of the characters except Bardiche and Raising Heart are actually speaking English. The only characters that speak the language I write are the devices (which is why the only word thus far spoken by the Book of Darkness was in German). You could say that I'm translating (but not literally, which is why you'll see some idioms from time to time). This means that I am trying to represent the various levels of formality embedded in the Japanese language without having a proper equivalent in English. Let's use Chrono, Zest, Megane and Quint as an example to explain what I mean.

Quint is the least formal. She feels a close emotional attachment to both Zest and Megane, but not to Chrono. I represent this as follows: She thinks of the others (except Chrono) by their first names and speaks to her team using their first names in most situations, but calls Chrono "Harlaown". Her outgoing personality is also slightly exaggerated, but nobody takes offense because she is being 'informal' rather than 'rude', though I try to make sure I stay on the right side of the line just in case.

Megane has emotional attachments to Quint and Zest, but is more formal. She thinks of everyone but Chrono by their first names, and calls everyone but Chrono by their first names. I don't really tweak her personality at all; contrast with Quint is sufficient to differentiate.

Zest has emotional attachments to Megane and Quint, but is even more formal. He thinks of everyone but Chrono by their first names, but always calls everyone by their last names. He is also the least likely to use contractions, though I usually don't worry about that.

Chrono does not have a strong emotional attachment to the others, and is almost as formal as Zest. He thinks of everyone by their last names, and calls everyone by their last names. He also refers to his mother by rank sometimes. Keep an eye on that; how he refers to Lindy and how he reacts to how others refer to her can sometimes give you insight into his emotional state.

Why does this matter? Well… it doesn't most of the time. What I'm trying to say is that since I'm not using honorifics, you need to watch other cues to pick up on some things. You probably won't miss a whole lot if you don't, but keep an eye open just in case. Also, I'm saying that sometimes I can't quite 'translate' it properly. For example, during the scene from Hayate's POV if I were using honorifics I would have used 'Vita-chan' at least once, but I'm trying to be consistent so I didn't even though I couldn't properly represent that in English.

The one way in which this whole 'translating' thing comes up the most often is actually related to religion. Specifically, I believe I have yet to use 'hell', 'God', 'Jesus', 'Christ' or 'damn'. Why? Because those are religious words that have crept into the everyday vernacular in my culture, but NOT in Japan's (to the best of my knowledge) or the TSAB's. And since my impression of the whole Saint Church thing is that it's closer to what would happen if England had a church centered on King Arthur than it is to Christianity, I don't use that as a replacement.

(To make it clear, this is a device I use to help me. I don't actually write the story in Japanese and then translate it to English.)

And now you know.