Chapter 6: Volitant Vigilance
Floating far above the vibrant city of Mixopolis, encircled by myriads of clouds, the Flexer District stood stalwart as ever, rope-bound houses swaying gently in the serene breeze. An intricate network of bridges and airborne vessels, the district had been crafted using the Flexers' expertise in complex technology and the power of their formidable flexibility, a quality exhibited by no other tribe. Great attention to detail was present during the construction of the district – some of the ships were even transferred directly from the Sproingylands. Though they seemed relatively traditional in their lifestyles, the Flexers' ingenuity and craftsmanship put them on par with the likes of the Electroids and Klinkers when it came to technological advancements.
Of course, this meant that most of this architecture was built specifically for the Flexers themselves; many visitors had difficulty entering the district, let alone exploring outside the use of Mixing. Given the district's elevation, many Flexers opted to use their natural abilities to traverse the area: clambering across, on and even under bridges, propelling themselves with their own limbs, or even flying through the open skies, receiving an unparalleled view of the district and beyond.
Floating above even the highest houses, a manta ray Flexer maintained constant vigilance over a swath of airships, her single eye scanning the area back and forth, back and forth again. There was little noise present other than the gentle breeze, allowing her to maintain complete focus over her endeavors. She had lost count of how many times she had surveyed this particular area, but that hardly bothered her. One could never be too careful, as far as she was concerned.
Glancing to her right, she noticed an airship shaped like a nautilus shell. Unlike most other buildings of its kind, however, the typical equilibrium of its buoyancy was disrupted, the boat slightly askew. Her curiosity piqued, she tucked in her patagia, streamlining her body and swiftly diving toward the ship, letting the natural air currents guide her trajectory.
Though such a tilt was subtle enough to have been overlooked by most, Mantrae was renowned for having a particularly keen eye; spotting such errors had become quite commonplace to her. Upon reaching sufficient range, her eye darted around once more as she circled the ship, scanning for any irregularities.
Thankfully, such an endeavor only took but a few seconds – the source, she found, was merely an unsecured length of rope, its frayed ends swaying in the winds. She was grateful she had identified it so quickly; unattended ropes historically had disastrous consequences for Flexer architecture. Rumors still spread about an entire fleet having crashed to the surface at one point.
Sighing, Mantrae grappled her tail to a nearby column for support. Compressing her patagia further to allow for greater dexterity, she began readjusting the rope. As one of the top surveillance officers of the Flexer Aerospace Patrol, she was highly devoted to her job and took her responsibilities quite seriously, even going so far as to work double time on occasion to ensure the district was fully secure.
She would've said that the appreciation of the district's citizens and her colleagues was payment enough for her deeds…if it were that simple. No matter how long, how hard, the seeds of discontent still festered in her mind, gnawing away at her from the depths of her subconscious. She still wasn't quite sure why, even after working so diligently on a regular basis. Some deep-seated insecurity, perhaps?
A sudden, powerful gust blazed past her, followed swiftly by several others. The sheer intensity sent Mantrae sprawling off balance, making her lose her grip on the rope. Trails of white smoke, accented by faint mischievous laughter and the scent of rocket fuel, were the only traces of the offending Mixels.
Mantrae rolled her eye. Dealing with troublemaking flyers was but one of the consequences of her job, one that she especially resented. Typical careless delinquents, she thought to herself, returning to readjusting the rope. What's a bunch of Orbitons doing in Flexer airspace anyway?
It was hardly worth her time, though – it happened often enough for her to ignore them or avoid them entirely for the most part. Double-knotting the rope for good measure, she finished readjusting it, allowing the airship to slowly return to its usual alignment, its metal hooks creaking softly.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Mantrae gazed out over the expansive district before her, networks of bridges and houses stretching into the aether. At least for now, this particular section was fully accounted for. Considering how much ground she had managed to cover, as well as the gradually dimming sunlight, it was due time for another report back to base. If nothing else, it would give her something to do during the brief moment of respite before her next shift.
Expanding her patagia, Mantrae took off into the open sky, gliding along the gentle breeze. Looking down, she could see the many skyscrapers of the rest of the districts, peeking through the dense layer of clouds. Admittedly, whenever she wasn't keeping constant vigil over her neighborhood, flying was actually quite serene, and even calmed her nerves – she simply had little time to appreciate it. Though pangs of regret pierced her heart from time to time when soaring over the district, she had come to accept this as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of her fellow Mixels.
On either side, other Flexers passed by, either gliding in similar fashions or swinging about as if on massive snakevines, all donning similar sets of protective armor emblazoned with the Aerospace Patrol insignia. With arguably one of the largest districts in the city to manage, the patrol had found it imperative to expand its numbers as quickly as possible shortly after being founded, with several being assigned to the same area in some cases. Despite their duties, though, it was not uncommon for officers to assist each other in their respective surveys or even cover two to three shifts at a time, especially for those burdened with great responsibility like Mantrae. Ultimately, the Aerospace Patrol remained stalwart through decisive and organized methods and the persistent sentiment of camaraderie characteristic of Mixel society.
With her speed, it didn't take too long for Mantrae to approach the Aerospace Patrol's base, a massive wooden airship finished with a silvalium edge, closely resembling a hangar dangling in midair. One end of the ship had been partially hollowed out, allowing for abundant space for Flexers' departures and arrivals. As Mantrae descended to meet its wooden surface, another Flexer resembling a seahorse approached to meet her.
"Ah, Mantrae, you're finally ba-a-ack," the Mixel, Recompus, said, his tone calm yet authoritative. "Here for another status report, I assume." Recompus was Mantrae's superior and mentor, and in charge of supervising most of the eastern district. Typically, he was fair in his judgment, although there were rumors of a repressed temper lurking beneath.
"Precisely, si-i-i-ir," Mantrae replied robotically. "I've conducted thorough surveys of the first eight sectors, and briefly skimmed over the 11th and 12th sectors since I was nearby. Aside from a few improperly fastened ships, and some stray troublemakers, the district is in order."
"Good to kno-o-ow." Recompus copied her detailed description onto a wooden notepad suspended by a thin rope, which zoomed upward once he was finished, pulling the notepad away. "Nothing noteworthy lately, but at least most of the sectors are fully stable. That's our mission, after a-a-all."
"Of course, sir." Mantrae's stance remained rigid.
"Which reminds me," the elder Flexer continued, his eyes boring into his subordinate. "I actually wanted to address something regarding your work habits."
Mantrae's composure faltered, a bead of sweat rolling down her brow. Given her position, the last thing she intended was to disappoint her superiors, so the mere mention of her "work habits" immediately put her on edge. Her mind was racing, scrambling to formulate a defense.
"Well…I…" she stuttered. "...I can assure you there is hardly anything to worry about, sir. I've made certain to assist colleagues in nearby sectors whenever necessary, taken inventory of storage ships, a-a-a-and even did a full perimeter scan. I've done everything I can-"
"Mantrae, you were gone for over ten hours straight."
The blunt response silenced her immediately.
After a brief moment of tension, Recompus' expression softened. "I'm well aware of what you're assigned and how much you manage, but that's almost double your shift. Don't you think you're pushing yourself too ha-a-a-ard?"
Mantrae remained silent, her mind spiraling. She had hardly realized it herself, but hearing Recompus' words out loud had put her recent shifts into a fresh perspective. As of late, the Aerospace Patrol had expanded its operations, and she had found the extent of her scrutiny had expanded alongside it. She replayed memories of weeks past in her mind: the newfound sense of fatigue that accompanied the ends of shifts, the confused looks from her coworkers during her surveys, the seemingly pointless stretches of time circling sectors over and over. Had she been overworking herself after all? Perhaps that's why she felt a constant sense of tension, like a rubber band coiled over itself again and again.
Her lack of a proper response prompted Recompus to continue. "Look, I'm not trying to undermine your efforts or anything like that, not at all," he reassured. "I appreciate the effort you put forward, we all do – I just care about your well-being as well. You shouldn't have to stress so much over your responsibilities."
Luckily, his words were enough to put Mantrae at ease, if only a little. Even so, it did little to dissuade the doubts she harbored within herself, the desires to keep pushing herself further. Every time she let her guard drop, she was worried that something would suddenly go awry.
"I appreciate your concern, sir," Mantrae stated, attempting to sound as calm as possible. "But I can assure you, I'm fine for now; it isn't too much to handle for me. If any issues arise, I'll be certain to let you know."
"Of course. For now, I suggest you take a temporary break from surveillance. There are plenty of other Mixels who'd be happy to take over your duties for you."
"Actually, I was planning on doing so-o-o-o. Just enough to prepare myself for the next flight out, that i-"
"I was referring to an extended break, a day or two-o-o-o. You certainly deserve it." His assuring smile grew wider.
Mantrae faltered, uncertain. From her perspective, both the directions from her subconscious and her superiors' orders held equal importance; attempting to hold two clashing ideas in her head was somewhat overwhelming. She attempted to form another counterpoint, to assert her personal views…yet she couldn't. Her mentality wouldn't allow it.
"I…I'll think about it," she conceded, before slinking off toward the entrance leading into the main base.
"Fine by me," the seahorse-like Flexer replied, watching Mantrae wander away.
Soft footsteps echoed throughout winding hallways as a lone Flexer walked briskly, her gaze drifting from one wall to the next. Despite Recompus' earlier words, Mantrae was still plagued by her conflicting thoughts, her mind a ravaged battlefield. Though she was naturally as physically flexible as could be, courtesy of her Flexer DNA, her mental state remained as frustratingly rigid as obsidinite. Try as she might, she could not reconcile with her boss' suggestion.
She hated these moments. Fatigued and restless simultaneously, her mind and body desperately sought any form of solace. Yet they received none, for Mantrae could not accept it. No matter how much she attempted to distract herself, the demands that arose from the depths of her own mind returned at some point, their hunger for order insatiable.
Granted, at first glance, any Mixel would assume that she was a perfectionist needlessly overworking herself for the sake of validation. That was at a glance, however; they couldn't understand why she forced these burdens upon herself in the first place, and why she struggled to manage them.
As she wandered, Mantrae passed by a doorway to a break room, the sound of ambient chatter emanating from its entrance. Upon noticing her presence, two of the Flexers inside perked up.
"Hey, Mantra-a-ae!" Reebaun, a Flexer with thick, coiled tentacles called. "Not often we see you not on duty. How've you been?"
Mantrae was briefly startled, but forced a smile. "I'm doing well, Reebaun. How are you two-o-o-o? Have you been busy lately?"
"Oh, not at all," the other Mixel, Pliank, chimed in. "Quite the opposite, in fact. This district's so well-built almost nothing happens around here anymore," he chuckled. "Though we have to stay alert if the worst ever comes, you know?"
"O-of course." Mantrae's smile was even more strained.
"By the way, why not join us?" Reebaun offered, holding up an empty teacup. "You've been working around the clock lately, I'm sure some te-e-e-ea would do you good."
Those conflicting thoughts again, only stronger. Mantrae could feel the sweat cascading down in bullets. Attempting to retain her composure, she forced the muscles in her jaws upwards, forcing any stress down. "I-I'd love to, but I can't," she replied. "I just want to make sure I'm prepared for tomorrow and such, y'know? I really do appreciate it though."
"Eh, it's fine, I get it," Reebaun said. "You're welcome to join us anytime though."
"Thanks. See you around." The manta ray Flexer dipped around the corner, continuing on her way. "Keep up the good work!" Pliank's voice called after her.
The moment she was out of sight, Mantrae's facade dissolved, and the mounting tension resurfaced. She could still feel the aches in her jaws from smiling so much.
Despite her attempts to come off as relaxed and amicable, seeing her colleagues while off-duty had made her all the more stressed. From the day she had first enlisted, Mantrae had worked tirelessly to climb up through the ranks of the Aerospace Patrol, relying on little else than her own skills and her mentors' guidance. She had become a role model for many newer recruits, and thus strived to lead by example. What if seeing her unproductive, casually ambling about the base, gave others the wrong idea?
Eventually, she came across another door, one leading to an empty break room. Sauntering inside, she collapsed onto a sofa, breathing a sigh of discontent. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling as her frenzied mind spiraled further and deeper into itself.
As much as she enjoyed her job, her position, and the knowledge that she was helping others, Mantrae still felt a sense of pressure, a weight of unspoken expectation that was permanently shackled to her soul. No matter how much she achieved, how much she impressed others, she could not dispel it. Even though it had grown large enough to be considered debilitating, she still kept attempting to pursue unreachable goals. After all, logically, lifting a given weight required becoming strong enough to push it off one's body.
Then again, how much of that weight was actually from others' expectations?
Blinding red lights and screeching sirens derailed her train of thought instantly, making her shoot upward like a rocket. Her eye darted about frantically, nerves overloaded like a haywire Electroid. What was going on?! she thought. This couldn't be happening, could it? Normally, the emergency alarm wouldn't sound unless…
"Attention, all officers: level 4 houseship collapse in 13th sector. Repeat, level 4 collapse in 13th sector. This is not a drill."
Mantrae's blood ran ice-cold. Through the popspruce walls, she could hear numerous voices frantically shouting and chattering among themselves, rapidly increasing in volume. Only second to level 5 collapses, which the district had the fortune of never experiencing, level 4 collapses were quite rare, but when they did happen, every member of the patrol readied themselves for immediate action. The ships that collapsed under such circumstances were usually quite large, meaning it took several Mixes or even Maxes to prevent them from crashing into the city below. Additionally, these ships' size meant several smaller buildings used them as anchors, meaning when the larger ones fell, three or four went down with them.
Bursting open her door, Mantrae was greeted by hordes of Flexers flooding the hallways, all urgently rushing to the hangar entrance. Struggling to find an opening, Mantrae was finally able to squeeze into a narrow gap between two slower Mixels. Her feet moving on autopilot, the Flexer looked around, searching for potential leverage to avoid being slowed down further. The back of a stout crustaceous Flexer caught her eye, its surface high enough for the perfect elevation for takeoff.
Weaving past frenzied officers, she finally got within range. Leaping onto the Flexer's back, she then bounced upward, using their collective elasticity to propel herself. Thankfully, the base's ceiling was high enough to allow her to glide over the crowds, allowing Mantrae to swiftly maneuver her way to the front. It was imperative that she was prepared as quickly as possible, for the sake of however many lives were at risk.
At last, she dove through the exit door, the rest tumbling out after her. As she landed, she was greeted by the sight of Recompus, standing among the rest of the commanding officers, their faces equally grim. As every officer present piled into the hangar, they stood just as rigidly as Mantrae, ready to receive further briefing.
"Listen u-u-u-up!" Recompus barked, authority prominent in his tone. "As you all know, it has been months since our last level 4 incident, which means that this situation is all the more cru-u-u-ucial. If we wish to resolve this effectively, we will need to do so in a coordinated, orderly manner."
"Just because you are all well-trained and are working together on this matter does not mean it will be easy," Slinglish, another commander, added. "If everyone does not follow their given objective accordingly, we cannot guarantee the success of this missio-o-on."
"You will be separated into squadrons based on ability, each with a designated task," Recompus continued. "When signaled, you will disperse and reconvene at the site of the ship. From there, you will follow your given objectives until the scene has been deemed safe for civilians. Is that cle-e-e-ear?"
All present Flexers affirmed his statement in unison.
"Good. We will stay behind to guide each squadron and pinpoint potential danger areas. We are counting on you all."
She knew it wasn't intentional, but Mantrae felt as if Recompus' gaze was focused on her slightly more than the others. Regardless, she was fully prepared to face whatever dangers lay ahead.
The setting Lightbulb Sun cast an orange tint across the Flexer District, bathing it in a warm glow. Additionally, it served to accentuate the fleet that now flew past dozens of houseships and rope bridges in a strict formation.
To little surprise, Mantrae had been assigned as the head of the largest squadron, responsible for supporting the weight of the unstable houseship. Doubtlessly, it was a quite daunting task, but one she willingly accepted. This mission was her responsibility as much as anyone else's, and it was only right that she oversaw the most crucial aspect. The wariness from earlier still lingered, but she had pushed it to the back of her mind for now, too focused on the situation at hand.
"We're almost at the 13th sector," she called to the Flexers behind her, most of whom rode upon a large, floating three-way Mix. "Once we get there, locate as many anchors near the base of the ship as you can. We're gonna need a-a-all the support we can get." The others silently nodded, their faces serious. They may not have all been as hardworking as she was, but even they knew when to set aside their differences to work toward a greater good.
Though Mantrae was quite good at hiding it, something that even surprised herself, she was deathly afraid of the mission's outcome, or at least the hypothetical ones. Her worst fears had come to pass, and she was worried that she would lack the fortitude needed to direct her team when push came to shove. She didn't try to push her fears down too far, lest they strike again with full force at the most dire moments.
Her squadron cruised into the 13th sector, marked by its distinctive use of teal and bronze popspruce. Swerving past intricate networks of pastry-shaped houses, Mantrae would soon find herself approaching her target. Her eye widened as it came into view.
The houseship was massive, easily as wide as an adult Porcapoise; a storage ship meant for holding copious amounts of priceless antiques. Like balloons tethered to a wooden post, four smaller houseships hung above it, connected by thin rope bridges. They seemed just as unstable as their host, swaying every which way in the breeze. As for the main houseship, several of the rope bridges keeping it upright had snapped, all but one remaining whole. One of the impossibly long ropes connecting it to the surface far, far below had also severed, making the situation all the more frightening.
Most of the other squadrons had arrived, however, with their efforts going toward repairing the rope bridges and keeping the smaller houseships in place. Looking down, Mantrae could see the forms of two Maxes scaling the severed grounding rope, attempting to work together to reconnect it.
The sound of Recompus' voice crackled through Mantrae's earpiece. "Mantrae, are you the-e-ere? Your squadron should be there by now."
"We are, sir. We've just gots to determine which points to secure."
"Excellent. Divide them between either side, and make sure there's at least two groups supporting the bow and stern each. Work with the rope bridge teams to make sure the ship's properly aligned as well."
"What about the ancho-o-o-or?"
"Covered. Our officers on the ground are calling in Cragsters and Sticky Squad members to help as we speak."
"So we just gots to…?"
"However long it takes. Don't fail u-u-us, Mantrae."
Recompus' voice fizzled out, leaving Mantrae in silence. She could feel the shadows of self-doubt crawling out from the abyss, but she wouldn't let them out just yet. Not now.
She whipped around to her squadron, who looked at her expectantly. She recited her commander's instructions rapid-fire, as loudly as she could: "Split into four groups! Cover the bow and stern on each side! Make sure the bridges can connect! Let's go-o-o-o!"
The Flexers quite literally sprung into action, an array of Mixes forming in seconds as Cubits were withdrawn. With the rest of her squadron in synchronized forms, Mantrae watched as they swung their way to the bottom of the ship, grappling onto its wooden surface. Diving downward, Mantrae circled the houseship, guiding the Mixes toward any nearby anchors she spotted.
Tentacles and legs held on for dear life to wooden posts, metal hooks, anything they could get their grip around, as the ship creaked and groaned under the Mixes' influence. All of them exerted every ounce of strength their bodies could muster, using their combined powers to the fullest. All the while, Mantrae continued to hover around the ship's perimeter, ensuring her teammates remained in position and occasionally monitoring the other teams' progress.
Recompus' voice rematerialized. "Nice work, Mantrae," he said. "Looks like your squad has managed to get into position." The distant sounds of elastic snapping and flowing liquid echoed from below, followed by that of two Maxes splitting apart. "The anchor rope is now fully secure, but we aren't out of the woods yet. Make sure your team stays strong."
"Right," she said, before floating upward to get a wider view. From the looks of it, the situation was starting to gain some semblance of control. Her squadron had slightly shifted position to further stabilize the ship, the smaller houses were secured, and the rope bridges were quite close to being reconnected. For a fleeting moment, she felt an inkling of relief. In spite of the odds, each team had managed to work harmoniously, and were now close to achieving their common goal. As far as she was concerned, the sooner this was over, the better.
Shifting her gaze downward, however, gave her cause for concern. Her current angle gave her a view of one of the Mixes holding up the ship, one she identified as partially made of the crustacean Flexer she bounced off earlier. Even from far above, the Mix was exhibiting visible signs of struggle: even with their numerous appendages, they struggled to uphold the sheer weight of the ship, gritting their teeth in exertion. They dug into the polished wood harder, their multiple minds working in harmony to-
Split.
The Mix split.
Oh no.
The nearby Mix, still holding together, managed to grab onto the three former constituents, dangling them in midair. Unfortunately, more force was shifted off of the ship, causing the Mix to strain itself even further. However, this would only be the precursor to what occurred next.
It was like watching a chain reaction of explosions. The ship tilted downward at an alarming rate, startling the remaining Mixes and forcing them to hold on doubly as tight. The smaller houseships were sent off balance, one's rope severing from the tension. The houseship's changing angle caused the rope bridges to drift apart, the Flexers manning them reaching out for the torn halves in vain.
Mantrae could only watch, horrified. Startled and frustrated shouts and yells rang through her ears, a chorus of pure chaos. This was not what she envisioned happening at all, what anyone envisioned. Everything was failing. The plan was failing. Her team was failing. She was failing.
"Mantrae! What is going on over there?! The ship's just gone off balance, and everything's out of whack now! The houseships are starting to break away!"
Recompus's voice was like a sledgehammer. Mantrae choked out a response, her voice wavering. "I- I just- Everything was fine until…one of the Mixes split. They…they couldn't hold on, and now-"
"Then get them back into position! Find another Cubit ASAP! I don't care if they have to Mix without one! Just make sure that ship is secu-u-ure!"
Mantrae attempted to respond, but failed. She could only float above the disaster of a scene unfolding before her, frozen in midair by terror and self-doubt. Tearing up, she let the darkest and most horrifying thoughts she harbored invade her mind. What would the commanders say if they saw that one of their best officers had let an entire mission fail out of indecision? What would her peers say? Anxiety wracked her mind, coercing her to give in, to escape to safety, away from her mistake.
After all, it was her mistake, wasn't it? She couldn't monitor her team properly, she couldn't act accordingly when everything was falling apart. She was doomed to become another casualty to the looming darkness of insecurity and fear.
And yet, she refused.
She knew better. This wasn't any time to give up, nor to be indecisive. The stability of an entire sector was at risk. This may have been her oversight, but she could easily fix it. She was entrusted with leading this squad, and by the Maximum Mixel, she would make sure they saw it through to the end.
Wiping away her tears, Mantrae felt her heart burning with newfound resolve. She tucked in her patagia, diving with the speed of a peregull toward the ship.
Swooping over to the dangling trio of Mixels, she threw them her emergency Cubit, allowing them to catch it and reform into another Mix. Relieved, they returned to their initial position, straddling the ship even tighter.
Mantrae then changed momentum, flying upward toward the houseships. She made a beeline for the disconnected house, grabbing its rope with her tail before pulling it downward with all of her might. Grabbing on, the Flexer manning it gave Mantrae a grateful wave before attending to the rope.
Finally, Mantrae soared back toward the bottom, performing one last circle as she ensured each Mix's anchor was fully secure. After doing so, though, she noticed the rope bridges still disconnected. Even with balance restored, the ship had sunk too low for the bridges to connect.
Running on pure adrenaline, Mantrae pieced together an idea. She was out of Cubits, and all others were occupied, so it would rely solely on her own strength and durability. It was quite a risk, but one she was willing to take.
Again, Recompus checked in. "We're back on track, thank the Maximum Mixel, but the ship's too low! The bridge squadron can't conne-e-ect. Got any ideas?"
"Do you trust me-e-e?" Mantrae asked.
"...Affirmative."
Wasting no time, Mantrae immediately dove down and underneath the ship, flipping onto her back. She positioned herself directly at its center before sucking in a deep breath. With as much power as she could muster, she expanded her patagia as far as they could possibly go, hoping they found any support. Reaching her limit, she was relieved to feel the appendages of her comrades, who had caught on to her plan and grabbed onto her fins.
With her body now at full length, Mantrae acted as a makeshift safety net for the entire ship. As she sucked in another breath, preparing for what came next, she could feel her muscles begin to strain, the Mixes' tentacles pinching down on them. She refused to relent, not when they were this close to success.
"On my signal, press up on the ship as hard as you ca-a-an!" she hollered, attempting to be heard from beneath the hull. She couldn't see, but Mantrae was sure that the entire squadron was waiting in anticipation, ready for her next word.
"Whatever you're planning, Mantrae, you better do it quick!" Recompus advised. "We don't have all day!"
Mantrae breathed deeper, stretching her core muscles and patagia. Harder and harder, until they could stretch no further.
"NO-O-OW!" With that single word, all Mixes aboard pressed firmly against the ship, forcing it upward. In a split-second, Mantrae's patagia and torso recoiled, their elastic surfaces slamming against the wooden hull and propelling it upwards. Together, the combined forces launched the ship several feet skyward, returning it to its rightful position. The anchor ropes wobbled from the excess energy, reaching down their entire lengths.
Several suspenseful moments passed. All waited in anticipation as the bridge squadron immediately got to work, retying the ropes at breakneck speed. When a call of affirmation was given, every Flexer burst into rapturous cheers. All but one – Mantrae floated upward to rejoin her teammates, too exhausted from exerting such force to join in.
As the Mixes split, Mantrae's earpiece crackled to life one final time. "Outstanding, Mantra-a-a-ae!" Recompus cheered, his voice now triumphant. "Using your natural tensile strength in a maneuver like that was ingenious! We couldn't have done it without you."
"Thanks…sir…" she replied, gasping for air.
"It's my pleasure. The others have agreed to award you for your bravery once you return. You did great out there, missy," he said. "By the way, I'd say now's a good time to start your break…or at least until you go home, heh."
"I suppose so." She wouldn't mind one, given how worn out she was.
As Recompus signed off, she was alerted to the sounds of applause behind her. Turning around, she was met with all of the Flexers congratulating her, cheering her name, commending her for her bravery. At that moment, it was as if all of her prior anxiety and worries melted away, elation and gratitude taking their place. She couldn't help but smile proudly – genuinely, that is.
Suddenly, a faint glimmer caught her eye, making her turn toward the ship. Intrigued, Mantrae glided over to get a closer look, hovering above the deck. Upon closer inspection, what she saw made her eye twinkle.
A bright orange Cubit shard lay against the dark wooden deck, abnormally large. Its impeccable crystalline surface glimmered in the fading light, even when she picked it up. Mantrae stared deep into its center, enamored by the strange artifact. Without warning, it suddenly glowed, nearly blinding her.
Celestial voices, too many to count, swarmed her mind as the shard glowed. Mantrae was too occupied with sensory overload to make sense of what they said, but she picked up faint snippets: successors, foretold destinies, ancient power. She had hardly a clue what it all meant, but it bedazzled her all the same.
As quickly as it emerged, the shard's glow dissipated, fading to a faint flicker. Bewildered, Mantrae looked around, searching for anyone else that had potentially noticed. Alas, it was as if it never happened; the rest of the Flexers had already set off for the base, talking among themselves. Her brow furrowed. Surely someone would have noticed a random shard glowing out of nowhere, even amid the celebration. Regardless, Mantrae also decided to take her leave, trailing behind the others.
Mantrae sat on her bed, turning the Cubit shard over in her fins. In the comfort of her home, she was free to be alone with her thoughts. Upon her return, she was awarded a medal of bravery as promised (which now hung on the opposite wall), and fully accepted Recompus' suggestion, much to his delight. Admittedly, today had taken a massive amount of energy out of her. If it meant she could recharge for the coming week, she was fine with a short break.
Even so, the foreboding thoughts that had plagued Mantrae all day still lingered in the recesses of her mind, and she was no less unnerved by them. Her creative solution for realigning the storage ship, though impressive, had only set the bar higher for herself and for her superiors.
How would she possibly outdo such a spur-of-the-moment feat? Could she even do so? Most of all, she worried deeply about failing again. The ship was still intact thanks to her efforts, that much was true. As proud as Mantrae was of it, though, she couldn't deny it was a mere fluke on her part that caused the disaster to begin with. What if she acted irresponsibly? What if she froze up again and failed to act in time? What then?
And then there was the matter of the Cubit shard. Mantrae had no clue where to start with its multi-layered mystery: its size, its convenient location, the fact that it nearly blinded her and no one seemed to notice. It utterly annoyed her to no end.
As she held it with her fins, however, it felt somewhat…reassuring. Natural, even. Some primal energy in it resonated with her, even if she wasn't quite sure why. Of course, it did little to answer her questions, but it was at least relieving to feel its gentle warmth.
Gazing out her window, at the district she had sworn to protect for five years, Mantrae couldn't help but feel a sharp pang in her chest. A reminder of her failures, perhaps, but also a push to do better, to go farther than she did today. If a group of Mixels once rose up to foil a city-wide scam, what was stopping her from gaining the strength to protect those she cared about?
She sighed. Today was a success, but also a warning of the consequences of failure. For her own sake, above all else's, she could not afford to let anyone down again. Perhaps the mysterious shard would be the key to her dilemma, and would guide her down a fruitful path…but for now, it was but another burden to shoulder.