Chapter Text
“What the hell is that?”
Luiciana had barely even taken a drink of her Long Island before Amy plopped herself down in the booth across from her. She smiled, reaching up to feel the new prosthetics on her ears. Around 2107, cyber prosthetics such as cat eyes, metal tattoos, and fairy ears had a surge in popularity. Luciana was just hopping on the hype.
Luciana huffed a laugh, setting her glass down. “You don’t like them?” She tilted her head so Amy could see the sleek curve of metal where cartilage used to be, the way it caught the dim bar light. “Cost me a week’s salary. Don’t crush my dreams.”
Amy leaned in, chin propped on her fist, eyes bright. “They remind me of that time you cosplayed Legolas when we were, like, fifteen or something. I like it,” she shrugged. “They match the tattoos, atleast.”
She hummed, running a thumb over the silver metal tattoos that ran across her hand and arm like vines. She’d gotten it done as soon as she turned eighteen. “See? You get it. You always get it.”
Amy snorted. “Yeah, well, next time I want to come along so I can stop you from doing something dumb. You’d bedazzle your whole face if nobody stopped you.”
“Wrong,” Luciana said, pointing at her with mock severity. “I would never go full metallic. That's way too much upkeep and you know how lazy I am.”
They both laughed, the kind of laugh that burned the throat because it tried so hard to cover something else. When it died down, Amy glanced at the drink sweating on the table and said, softer, “You been sleeping okay?”
Luciana’s thumb stilled against the metal lines etched in her skin. “Yeah.” She didn’t look up. “Sometimes.”
She finally took a sip of her drink, letting the burn chase away the dryness in her throat. She set it down, turning the glass between her palms like it held answers. “...Sometimes,” she repeated, quieter this time. “I still hear him, you know. When I’m half asleep. Like he’s going to walk through the door any second, still in uniform.”
Amy’s face softened. “Lucy…”
“I know he won’t.” Her voice caught, but she pushed it steady again. “But it’s worse in the mornings. Waking up and remembering that the last time I saw him, he promised me he’d write. And then—”
Amy reached across the table and tapped her knuckles against Luciana’s. “Hey. Don’t.”
Luciana gave her a look, but Amy was already barreling forward, like she always did when the silence got too heavy. “Besides, he’d kill you if he knew you were drinking the most depressing cocktail on the menu. A Long Island, Lucy? Really? Could’ve at least gotten a cherry on it.”
That dragged out the ghost of a smile. “He used to drink them, too,” Luciana admitted. “Said they were efficient. One glass, three shots’ worth of alcohol. I guess it runs in the family.”
They sat with that for a second, the booth’s vinyl creaking when Amy leaned in. Music thumped from the bar—something with a synth line and a beat you could feel in your ribs—but it felt far away.
“How’s JD?” Amy asked finally, soft. Not prying, just opening a door.
Luciana huffed through her nose, a not-quite laugh. “Busy. Everyone is. He’s on nights this week in Command. Keeps pretending he’s not exhausted because he thinks I won’t notice if he holds very, very still… like a lizard.”
“Like a lizard,” Amy repeated, wrinkling her nose. “Romantic.”
“He tries,” Luciana said, the corner of her mouth tipping. “He’ll send me pictures of the sunrise from the roof. It’s, you know… It’s nice.”
They sat in that for a second. The synth beat bled into a bass drop; someone at the bar whooped. It felt stupidly normal.
Amy traced a circle on the wet ring the glass left. “Haven’t seen a sunrise in weeks that wasn’t orange with ash.”
“Last one he sent was super weird and distorted.” Luciana said. “The sun was larger than it’s supposed to be.”
“Sounds about right.” Amy leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “So. How bad is it, on your side? I keep hearing a different number every hour. Evacuations, ration tiers, curfews—that little ticker in my head just keeps spinning.”
“Depends who you ask.” She sighed. “My CO says we’re stable. The news says we’re stable. But if it’s all so stable, why are we reinforcing curfew with live ammo?”
Amy rubbed her palms over her jeans, restless. “So, basically it’s worse than what they’re saying. Right?”
“Seriously, the amount of conflicting reports gives me a headache. Officially, food supply chains are stable, relief convoys are running on schedule, and the eastern coasts are under control.” She lifted the glass halfway to her lips, then let it fall back against the table. “Unofficially… my unit’s been pulling double shifts to keep people from breaking into silos. We’re guarding grain like it’s gold. Because it basically is.”
Amy let out a low whistle. “Yeah. Same story, different setting.” She shifted in the booth, lowering her voice until Luciana had to lean in to hear her. “They had to send armed patrols out to the Titans again last week. Some idiots tried to strip wiring from one of the stabilizers. Can you imagine?”
Luciana blinked. “Wait—they actually touched one?”
Amy nodded grimly. “Got halfway through cutting into a conduit before they were spotted. One bad slice and the whole power system could’ve collapsed. You’ve never seen the reactors, have you?”
“Not in person,” Luciana admitted. “Just the reports.”
Amy’s mouth twisted. “Reports don’t do them justice. They’re… enormous, Lucy. Like skyscrapers. You can’t stand next to one without feeling it in your bones. The ground hums, like it’s alive. Hell, if I didn’t have a hand in the schematics of the damn things, I’d think it was alive.”
Luciana shivered despite herself. “And people are stripping them for parts? Jesus. How dumb can you be to do something like that…”
“Dumb or desperate,” Amy said, eyes rolling. “Tetraferrous Hexasulphide Isotope. Pure Titan blood. A single shard of the stuff sells for thousands. People crush it, snort it, inject it, whatever. Doesn’t matter if it fries their nerves—half the addicts burn out after a few months anyway. Nobody cares. Not when it glows that pretty.”
Luciana leaned back, frowning. “Fuel for the machines and people are getting high on it. Brilliant.”
Amy huffed out a laugh, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “Brilliant’s one word for it. I’d go with suicidal. You’d think extinction would kill the market, but no—turns out nothing sells faster than the end of the world.” Her wrist buzzed. She glanced down, thumbed a notification away, jaw tight. “Sorry. Command keeps pinging me. ‘Status updates.’ Like I can fix a planet from a bar.”
“Tell them to send you a cherry for my drink,” Lucy said. “Morale booster.”
Amy smiled. “Yeah, I’ll requisition fruit.” She crossed her arms against the table, then went quieter. “Got a memo earlier. New language in the contingency docs. They’re calling it a ‘selective long-term relocation protocol.’”
Lucy’s eyes flicked up. “Cold shift.”
“Cold shift,” Amy echoed, not looking at her. The words sat between them like a live wire. “They're drafting final lists.”
Lucy took a slow drink to buy herself a second. “How final?”
“Final-final,” Amy said. “Tiered by role. Command, engineering, medical. Their families if there’s space.” She rolled the glass ring under her finger again. “If anyone asks, I never said that.”
“Nobody’s asking,” Lucy said. Her voice felt too steady for how her stomach dipped. “They’ll keep it quiet until the last possible second. Otherwise the silos won’t just get raided, the Titans will.”
Amy nodded. “EDEN’s already prepping, by the way.” She kept her tone flat, casual, like they were discussing grocery lists. “Got a notice earlier—biobank vaults are sealed. Animal blood panels, embryos, seeds, the whole… ark. ‘Environmental Development & Evolution Network.’” She pulled a face. “Cute name for a freezer.”
“Missed chance to name the whole thing NOAH.” Luciana chuckled.
Amy snorted. “Marketing probably vetoed it. Too biblical. Bad optics when you’re quietly packing an ark.”
Lucy rolled the glass between her palms. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want the end of the world to feel on-the-nose.”
There was a moment of silence, filled with music. They’d finally ran out of ‘fun’ topics for Girls Night Out.
“...Think you’re on it?” Amy finally asked.
Luciana didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the sweating glass in her hands. This was the question none of them really wanted to talk about.
“I don’t know,” she said. It wasn’t quite a lie. “I’ve got the rank. The degree. The clearance. On paper, I check all the boxes.” She tipped the glass and let the ice rattle. “But so do a thousand other people. Who’s to say which of us they decide are worth keeping?”
Amy huffed. “You’re worth keeping. Hell, if it weren’t for you, half the reactor schematics would still be sitting in draft folders. You’ve held this place together more than any suit in Command.”
“Yeah,” Lucy said flatly. “And look how much good that’s done.”
Amy didn’t argue, just chewed her lip and let the music thump between them. Then, softer: “They’ll pick you. They’d be stupid not to.”
Luciana gave a short laugh, more breath than sound. “You say that like being picked is a prize.” She set the glass down hard enough to make the liquid slosh. “You realize what it means, don’t you? Everyone else… doesn’t make it.”
Amy’s jaw worked. She kept her eyes on the glass ring she’d been tracing, the circle growing darker with each pass of her finger. “That’s assuming I even make a list.”
“You will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Luciana’s tone was firm enough to cut through the noise around them. “You’re too valuable. They’ll want you down there. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Amy glanced up, met her eyes, and for a second looked like she might cry. But then she snorted, sharp, like she could blow the weight off her chest if she laughed hard enough. “If you say so, Colonel.”
Lucy leaned back, rolling the drink between her palms again. “Scary times when the best thing your friend can say is: don’t worry, you’re too useful to abandon.”
Amy smirked, reached over, and tapped her glass against Lucy’s. “Scary times,” she agreed.
“Scary times,” Lucy echoed, and took a long, long drink.