Breathe Out, Breathe Out

The Prime Beacon stared into the recording equipment a moment longer before averting his eyes downward. Someone called, "Cut it," and the broadcast ceased. As the amassed personnel of the Third vacated his office of themselves and their bulky equipment, he maneuvered around the edges of the space and settled into the sofa, waiting for them to clear out completely before allowing himself to relax.

Though the Directory's internal communication was leagues ahead of the general civilian populace in what was already known before the broadcast, this information asymmetry was mostly concentrated among the officers and anyone with a higher position than that.

The servicemen, the largest body in both the government and military, were distanced from the loop until now due to their closer connections to family outside of Ardiseg Hall.

They would be as nervous as any normal person right now, and it wouldn't do them any favors--or his colleagues, to see him pacing about his office, determined to wear the floors down to the support beams beneath. The urge was there, but like so many other things, it could be controlled. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see the Third Headman with a mug. "Thirsty?"

"Thanks." He took a long draft without pausing to register the flavor, wiping his lips after. He hadn't done much talking during that brief moment, but something about knowing he addressed every human left without being able to see their reactions was effective at drying his throat. He pulled the mug back, tilting it to get a better look.

He'd intended to grab the handle, but now that he'd lifted it to the light, he realized there was no handle. Most of the mug crushed into itself, handle included. Half of it flattened like a sandwiched plate of metal. "Don't tell me this is what I think it is."

"Oh, it is." Eighth Headman strolled through the door and pivoted around the Third Headman with grace, only to flop beside him with a sigh. She patted the last vacant cushion in an invitation, and the Third's direct representative followed suit, albeit with more decorum.

"I placed a request for one of the crews operating a scaffold to retrieve it. Don't worry your head over it, I had it cleaned and smoothed before he brought it."

"And, my friend, why'd you go willingly with her latest attempt to beguile me into an early grave?"

The Third Headman shifted at that. "I've known this lady for a time, but every moment where she re-fangs herself is never a dull one. I admit I found myself intrigued at where she was going with this one."

"Good for you." He hushed Eighth Headman before she could no doubt retort back at the Third Headman's labeling of her as "lady" and rested the mug on his knee. It felt cold even through the skinsuit, drilling an ache into the joint.

"Should I have included Ze-4's words?" He'd found them while perusing the action report for the Nyx Breaker's first deployment and took a liking to them. He found agreement with those sentiments, though he presumed not in the way his Ancient colleague had meant when first speaking them.

"Who has enough time to care about plagiarism these days? You already did it, and even if In-3 seeks you for vengeance in the sitesman's stead, what will come of it?" Eighth Headman studied one of her cuticles, picking it before abandoning the activity and stretching, forcing the men on either side of her to lean away to accommodate the spacious action. "Mmm~! That's good! I tell you, managing my men proper has gotten me all tied up too. I'm not sure if my Blessing can set back the fatigue I now carry."

"Yes it can." The Third Headman pushed away one of her legs with an annoyed face. "But do tell. How is the civilian population handling the broadcast?"

"Buddy, you don't even know how my Vigor works."

"But it can," the Prime Beacon seconded. Her betrayed look made his mug's contents sweeter when he went back for a sip. "And I'd like to know too."

"Hmph. If you must know, I've had my men assimilate into the civilians' numbers again, though this time they're seeing more action. I don't want any of the accumulating ire to turn on the government if anyone catches wind my men are Directory employees, so they're working in covert pairs. Already," she tapped her temple, "I've received six reports of incidents. At this point, simple stress overloads as catalysts were easy enough to deescalate by using the crowd as a verbal proxy or having my men separate the offenders while posing as samaritan passersby, so there have been no injuries. I don't know if that will last."

While the Third Headman attracted Eighth Headman's attention with some comment observing her continued and disappointing lack of tact for someone in her position, the Prime Beacon closed his eyes.

His HUD conjured an image of him and Pa-5, something he'd had registered in the days leading up to her departure for Fort Io. The two of them looked happy together, smiling with gayness at the recording equipment. He was younger in the image, looked far healthier too. And she still had all four of her limbs; the way her lips stretched seemed as if they'd split from the strain of being unable to express her boundless pleasure at being by his side in full.

She had smiled at him like that when he first raised her into his arms, back when she was small enough to cradle with a single arm. She'd smiled at him like that when he'd approved her choice to enroll in engineer specialization courses during her time at the Light Institute. And yet…

She hadn't smiled like that once since her return. Not at him or anything else, and his heart stilled at those memories. The hand gripping the mug curled tighter.

Wherever his thoughts would've taken him, they never got the chance to, as Eighth Headman shook his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he found the other two original militarists already on their feet. "Were you hoping to settle down for a nap? Your men summoned us to Directory Control."

Not bothering to check his HUD, he rose and followed. Draining the last dregs from the mug, he hesitated, then placed it on his desk. Eighth Headman tracked the action, though offered no remark.