“I think you have the right of it,” Tank said, with forced amusement. “I should try sleeping through this, too.”

Emily found herself staring at a ceiling that she didn’t recognize. Blue, metallic, with only artificial light. A room filled with people that she did not know. A chemical stench of clean was in the air, and the scanning bed she was lying on was active, holographically displaying above her everything that she did not want to know.

The confusion of dream chased after her, but eventually her heart-rate came down, and the fluttering feeling in her limbs and chest stopped. The display complained and distorted around her like a reflection in water as she sat up.

“It’s not on purpose,” Emily said. “I’m tired when I wake up. I think if I tried standing I might fall asleep on my feet.”

The youngest of their trio, Ariana, seemed to take this with great concern, but said nothing. Tank gave a careful, conspiratorial look to the rest of the room. They were not alone, several people who had not bothered to introduce themselves clustered in a corner and discussed, well, most likely the three of them. It was not a welcoming place, and nothing suggested they were safe, but it could not have been argued that they were worse off than within the clutches of Saurians.

Tank seemed convinced enough that they were not being observed, and spoke lowly, such that only the two of them were able to hear her. “They’re calling it a parasite.”

Emily shrugged, glancing back down at the display that her body was distorting. She held her hands under the holographic projection and watched the trace-work of vines it tracked beneath her skin. “I got told so many times there wasn’t anything there,” she mused.

Tank looked gravely at the display, before making a noise and dismissing it. “No one told me shit. They said everyone in those camps was sick and I wasn’t special.”

They looked to Ariana, who shook her head. “They didn’t have medical scanners. Some days I couldn’t stand and people thought I was trying to get out of working.”

Emily nodded, and the action brought back that same sensation of the inside of her head sloshing. “Well, fuck everyone we asked for help, I guess.”

“Amen,” Tank agreed with an approving scoff.

“It wasn’t just me, though,” Ariana said, thoughtfully. “I knew other people with it, too. They weren’t… as sick. But there are more. We all have the eyes.”

“I suppose if you aren’t actively exploding, no one cares,” Tank mused.

Emily leaned in closer, lowering her voice further. “That’s a uniform isn’t it?”

“Eugh, I think purple is system peacekeepers.”

“She is not nice,” Ariana said, severely.

Tank stifled a laugh, but lost all merriment when she saw Emily’s face again. “What is it?”

“I do not like that whatever this is requires uniforms,” Emily said.

“What do you think they’re going to do?”

Emily shrugged, at a loss. The dream was fading, but the looping waves of terror had not ebbed away. It came back, now and seared into her for another round. She did not want to be here, in this little room under the ground, and knew there was no where else for her to go. For any of them to go. They appeared to be in a new type of captivity, and it remained to be seen if it was any better than the last.

Within the group of strangers on the other side of the room, there was that strange afterimage of Winterwing. She did not dream that, then.

She could not recall for the life of her either Winterwing or Dabble mentioning another brother. It was not fair that she had already decided she did not like him. It was his fault, though. When he looked at her, it was with suspicion, and he spoke with an authority that she did not recognize.

Tank must have seen her line of sight, and asked, lowly. “Who is the guy with you, anyway? They seem pretty concerned with him.”

Emily blinked, and looked away. “Just a guy.”

“He went sprinting through a warship for you,” Tank said, amused.

She shrugged. “Yeah, he does stupid shit like that.”

Tank announced, exasperated: “Oh, honey.”

“We’re all going to die and you want to gossip, is that it?”

“Boys are dumb, but I’m not sure I’ve met a boy dumb enough to run around a hive of villainy for me,” Tank said.

“Stop that. He has a girlfriend.”

“I thought you didn’t want to gossip.”

“Shut up,” Emily said. She laid back down and smashed her palms into her irritated eyes, without asking permission to break from the conversation. The exhaustion was started to creep back up on her, in that way that made joints ache and the world dim. She had learned almost nothing, and felt no better off for having had the conversation, but she could not find within her the willpower to stay awake.

“You’re going to sleep, now?” Tank said, incredulously.

“I don’t know. Its like sleeping doesn’t do anything,” Emily said.

“What do I do, if they say they want to dissect you?”

“Tell them to do it quietly, please.”