Day 191. 07:00 hours.
Ground Floor.
The dining hall.
The household was at breakfast — but not the usual breakfast, not the quiet rice-and-lugaw morning the household had been having for six days since the war ended.
This was the morning after.
The morning after the report.
The morning after two hundred and forty-eight people learned they were not entirely human and that they were four species and that their blood was not interchangeable and that the doctor was pregnant and fundamental and had been Body Enhancement three days ago.
The morning after was loud.
The dining hall was full and the full was loud and the loud was the sound of two hundred and forty-eight people who had read the report — or heard the report, or heard someone who heard someone who heard the report — processing the information the way the household processed everything: together, at the table, with food, with the volume that came from two hundred and forty-eight people trying to understand what they were.
The three girls were cooking with a rhythm that was faster than usual — Carmen's chin tilting toward the rice pot, Esperanza already reaching for the ladle, Sofia logging portions on her clipboard.
The household was eating more.
The household always ate more when the news was big, and the news was the biggest the household had ever had.
Hua was on her stool in the doorway, three and a half months pregnant, her crimson hair tied back, her violet-blue eyes on the three girls.
She sat the way she always sat — with the particular abundance that pregnancy had only amplified, the full curves that had been hers since before the freeze now straining the fabric of her shirt in ways that made the three girls exchange glances and look away.
Supervising — the same stool, the same doorway, the same supervising Hua had been doing for eleven days.
But this morning the supervising was different because this morning Hua knew what she was.
A blank canvas.
The report had said so.
"I am a blank canvas." Hua murmured, her voice soft, her hand resting on the swell of her stomach where the fabric stretched tight. "A canvas that Jae-min painted on."
"A canvas that Jae-min painted on." Carmen repeated from the stove, her dark eyes on the rice — the repetition of a woman who was also a canvas, also Baseline, also pregnant, also painted on by an Enhanced man.
But Carmen was stirring rice and did not say this because Carmen was stirring rice.
"Logged." Sofia announced from the plates, her pen on the clipboard. "Canvas. Baseline. Pregnant. Logged."
"Shut up, Sofia." Carmen muttered without looking up.
"Logged." Sofia confirmed, and went back to plating.
Esperanza said nothing.
Esperanza was stirring the lugaw.
Esperanza was also a canvas, also pregnant, but Esperanza was a nursing student and nursing students processed things clinically, and the clinical processing was expressed as silence and the silence was the lugaw being stirred.
Lina was not in the kitchen.
Lina was in the greenhouse with Kiko because the greenhouse was warm and the kitchen smells were too much and Lina did not speak, and whose not-speaking was the thing that Lina did in the greenhouse when the kitchen was too much and the greenhouse was enough.
Lina was also a canvas.
Lina was also pregnant.
Lina was the smallest canvas and the smallest canvas was in the greenhouse with the plants and the plants were growing and the growing was the thing that Kiko did and whose doing was what Lina watched because watching was what Lina did when she did not speak.
— • • • —
Jae-min was at the head of the table eating rice with his dark eyes on the room — the spatial-awareness eyes that mapped every signature in the compound, every heartbeat, every flame. The eyes of a man who was fundamental and whose fundamental was Space and Time and whose Space and Time was the void and whose void was the thing that the report had described as "the source."
He was the source.
The report said so.
The void was his.
The void was the thing that had imprinted on Elena — maybe.
The void was the thing that had changed Alessia — yes.
The void was the thing that connected every Enhanced in the compound to him — maybe, not confirmed, cracked.
"The report just confirmed what I already knew — not the details, not the science, but the knowing that the Enhanced were different, the knowing I have felt since the void first opened." Jae-min reflected, his dark eyes scanning the room with the quiet steadiness of a man whose processing was done because the report was read and the report was delivered and the household's processing was the household's.
Alessia sat beside him with her black hair in a ponytail and her black eyes rested — six hours of sleep, not enough for a pregnant woman but enough for a scientist who had delivered the most important report in the compound's history.
She was slender and fine-boned, her frame delicate in the way that suggested precision rather than fragility — the narrow shoulders and the slim waist and the quiet elegance of a woman whose body was built for the steady hands of a surgeon and the sharp mind of a scientist.
The transformation had not changed her frame.
It had changed the canvas.
The black hair and the pale skin and the black eyes had replaced the indigo and the pinkish white and the blue, but the body beneath was the same — refined, precise, aristocratic in its restraint.
Her hand was on her stomach.
The stomach that was flat and would not be flat for long.
The child.
Fundamental.
Group one.
Creation.
"Alessia." Jae-min murmured, his voice low, the low he used when he was being the husband and not the captain.
"Hmm." Alessia hummed, the sound of a woman whose eating was interrupted by her husband's voice and whose interruption was not unwelcome.
"You are staring at your stomach." Jae-min observed, his chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth.
"I am staring at the child." Alessia corrected, her black eyes still on her stomach.
"You cannot see the child — the child is the size of a grain of rice." Jae-min pointed out, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly.
"A grain of rice that is fundamental." Alessia countered, her voice warming. "A grain of rice that is Creation. A grain of rice that is one hundred percent compatible."
"A grain of rice." Jae-min repeated, filing the image of his wife staring at her stomach and calling the child a grain of rice, and the filing was the thing that made the corner of his mouth lift further.
"You are smiling." Alessia observed, her black eyes catching the lift.
"I am not smiling." Jae-min denied, keeping his expression flat.
"You are smiling — the corner of your mouth is lifted, that is a smile." Alessia insisted, the voice of a scientist who was also a wife and whose wife-ness was the thing that let her tease her husband.
"It is rice — the rice makes my mouth do that." Jae-min deflected, and ate more rice, and did not smile, except the corner of his mouth was still lifted and the lifting was the smile that was not a smile.
"This is what the one hundred percent gave me — this, the rice and the not-smile and the morning after." Alessia reflected, her hand tightening on her stomach, the tightening that said this.
— • • • —
Ji-yoo arrived the way Ji-yoo always arrived — suddenly, completely, and on Jae-min's lap.
One moment Jae-min was eating rice with the not-smile.
The next moment Ji-yoo was on his lap and the rice was threatened and the not-smile was replaced by the flat-eyes of a twin whose lap had just been occupied.
She was built for combat — the long legs and the powerful thighs and the defined muscles of a woman who swung Soulcleaver every day, the kind of body that was both weapon and decoration, with the full curves that sat on top of the muscle like armor on a warrior.
Her black hair fell past her shoulders in the particular way that Ji-yoo's hair always fell — wild, uncombed, the hair of a woman who had better things to do than maintain her hair because maintaining her hair did not kill minions.
Her dark eyes — the same fundamental black as Jae-min's — were sharp and bright as they fixed on her brother's face.
The body settled onto Jae-min's lap with the practiced ease of a twin who had been claiming this lap for five months, the athletic frame folding into the clingy with the particular grace of a woman who could bisect a snake and then sit on her brother's lap and refuse to move.
"Oppa." Ji-yoo declared, her arms around his neck.
"You are on my lap." Jae-min observed, the flat-eyes of a man who was used to this.
"I am on your lap because I am your twin and your twin belongs on your lap and your lap is mine and I am claiming it." Ji-yoo proclaimed, settling in, her face going to his shoulder, the arms tightening.
"You are claiming my lap." Jae-min stated, the flat-eyes of a man who kept eating rice with a twin on his lap because this was what Jae-min did and what Jae-min had always done and what Jae-min would always do.
"I read the report." Ji-yoo murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled.
"And?" Jae-min asked around a mouthful of rice.
"And we are the same species — you and me, fundamental, group one, same species, ninety-five percent compatible." Ji-yoo said, lifting her face from the shoulder, her dark eyes finding his with the intensity of a twin who had read a number and whose number was the thing she needed to say.
"Ninety-five percent." Jae-min confirmed.
"Ninety-five percent." Ji-yoo repeated, and her arms tightened — the tightening of a twin who had just said the number and whose saying made the hug tighter because the number meant same.
Same species.
Same blood.
Same signature.
The same that Ji-yoo had always felt and whose feeling was now data.
"The report says I am a dual fundamental — Gravity and Force, dual powers, same as you, Space and Time." Ji-yoo continued, her dark eyes bright. "We are both dual. We are both fundamental. We are the same."
"You are the same." Alessia confirmed from beside Jae-min, her black eyes on Ji-yoo with the gentleness of a wife who understood the bro-con and whose understanding let her watch without jealousy. "You and Jae-min are the only dual fundamentals in the compound. Your compatibility is ninety-five percent because dual-to-dual is the highest compatibility."
"What does ninety-five percent mean — for us?" Ji-yoo asked, her dark eyes turning to Alessia with the directness of a woman who wanted the answer.
"She is going to ask about upgrading — she is at ninety-five, she knows I went from five to one hundred with essences, and she is going to ask if she can upgrade too, and I do not have the answer because I do not know what essences would do to someone who is already Signature A." Alessia anticipated, her jaw tightening.
"Ninety-five percent means you and Jae-min are nearly perfectly compatible — same species, dual powers, your essence genomes fit together like two halves of the same thing." Alessia explained, her voice careful and measured. "But ninety-five is not one hundred. Conception at ninety-five percent would be likely but not guaranteed."
"Not guaranteed." Ji-yoo echoed, her dark eyes still on Jae-min.
"Not guaranteed, but likely." Alessia confirmed.
Ji-yoo looked at Alessia — at the black hair, at the pale skin, at the black eyes of the woman who had been Body Enhancement and was now Fundamental.
"You upgraded — from five percent to one hundred, with essences." Ji-yoo stated, the statement that was also a question.
"With essences." Alessia confirmed.
"Could I upgrade?" Ji-yoo pressed.
"You are already at ninety-five percent — you are already nearly perfect." Alessia answered, her voice carrying the honesty of a scientist who did not have the data. "An upgrade would — I do not know. You are dual fundamental. The essences changed my signature from C to A. Your signature is already A. I do not know what essences would do to someone who is already Signature A."
"You do not know." Ji-yoo repeated, the flat of a twin who was filing the not-knowing and whose filing let her not push because pushing was not what twins did.
Twins waited.
Twins knew when to wait.
"I do not know, but I will find out — the investigation continues." Alessia promised.
"The investigation continues." Ji-yoo echoed, and put her face back in Jae-min's shoulder.
— • • • —
Yue was at the table eating rice with her marble eyes on her plate.
The marble was back — fully back, sealed, the screamer locked behind the marble the way the screamer was always locked after the marble broke and the screamer came out and the screaming was done.
She was tall and lean, her body the kind that came from years of sword training — the long legs and the defined arms and the narrow waist and the quiet curves that sat on muscle like silk on steel.
Her black hair fell past her shoulders, and her marble eyes were on her plate, and the marble said nothing.
She ate the way she did everything — with a controlled, precise economy of motion that wasted nothing, not a gesture, not a glance, not a grain of rice.
The body of a hunter.
The composure of a statue.
The appetite of a woman who had been on infirmary food for four days and was making up for it.
The household did not ask about the screaming.
The household accepted.
But the household looked — the looking of two hundred and forty-eight people who had heard Yue scream yesterday through the infirmary walls and whose hearing was the thing that made them look at the marble woman eating rice.
And the marble said nothing.
"The report says I am seventy percent compatible with Jae-min." Yue stated, to her plate, to the rice, her voice flat.
"Seventy." Ji-yoo said from Jae-min's lap, her face coming out of the shoulder. "You are seventy. I am ninety-five. Alessia is one hundred."
"Seventy, ninety-five, one hundred." Yue confirmed, still to the plate. "The hierarchy of the fundamentals."
"Seventy percent is high — same species, fundamental to fundamental." Alessia offered, her voice gentle. "Seventy percent is good."
"Good is not one hundred." Yue replied, still to the plate, and the flat of her voice did not show what the flat felt — the comparison between her number and Alessia's number and the gap between seventy and one hundred.
"Good is not one hundred." Alessia confirmed.
Yue ate her rice.
The marble on the plate.
The screamer behind the marble.
The seventy percent behind the screamer.
— • • • —
Jennifer was at the table with her icy-blue hair loose and her blue eyes wet — not from crying but from feeling.
She was not tall, but her body carried a quiet, generous fullness that drew the eye without demanding it — the kind of figure that belonged to a woman who did not announce herself and did not need to.
Her movements were gentle, almost shy, the posture of a woman who folded into herself the way a flower folds before it blooms.
Her icy-blue hair fell past her shoulders, and her blue eyes — wide, soft, wet with the feeling of two hundred and forty-eight minds — were the eyes of a telepath who was always feeling and whose feeling made her look, always, as though she were on the verge of tears she could not explain.
There was a stillness to her beauty — not the sharpness of a blade but the softness of water, the kind that someone could drown in without realizing they had left the shore.
"I felt everyone's reaction to the report last night — after the presentation, everyone." Jennifer reported, her voice soft but gaining clarity as she shifted from wife to intelligence officer. "The confusion and the fear and the wonder and the understanding. Two hundred and forty-eight minds processing the same information, each one processing it differently, and I felt all of them."
"All of them." Jae-min acknowledged, his dark eyes on Jennifer with the attention of a captain receiving intelligence.
"The ridge group is scared — they are soldiers, they are Baseline, they learned they are blank canvases, they learned they can have children with any Enhanced. They are processing." Jennifer relayed, her blue eyes distant with the remembering. "The coalition is confused — also Baseline, they do not understand the science, but they understand the blood types. They understand they cannot receive blood from the Enhanced. That scares them."
"The Hearth?" Jae-min prompted.
"Warm — Tessa's mind was warm." Jennifer answered, a small smile breaking through the wet eyes. "She is Support, Group four. She understands she is a different species from the people she is helping. But the warmth does not care about species. The warmth is still there. Father Emil's mind was bright — he is a priest and his power is light and the report says he is a different species and his mind said all species are God's species. The faith does not care about blood types."
"Kiko's mind went to the greenhouse — to the plants, to the growing." Jennifer continued. "The species do not matter to the plants. The plants grow for everyone. Sarah's mind went to the perimeter — the species do not matter to the perimeter. The perimeter needs guarding regardless of blood type."
"The Hearth is okay." Jennifer summarized. "The ridge group is scared. The coalition is confused. The household is processing — each one differently, each one with their own flavor."
"Flavor." Jae-min repeated.
"Each mind has a flavor — Ji-yoo's flavor is fierce." Jennifer said, glancing at the twin on Jae-min's lap. "She read the report and her mind went to the ninety-five percent and the fierce was what her mind did with the number. Yue's flavor is still — she read the report and her mind went to the seventy percent and the still was what her mind did. Alessia's flavor is warm — she read the report and her mind went to the child and the warm was what her mind did."
"And mine." Jae-min requested, his dark eyes steady on Jennifer.
Jennifer looked at him — her blue eyes on his dark eyes, the looking of a telepath about to report on her captain's mind.
"Yours is quiet." Jennifer murmured, her voice dropping. "Your mind is quiet. You read the report and your mind went still — not the still of Yue, the still of a man who already knew. Not the details, not the science. The knowing. The knowing that the Enhanced were different. The knowing that the void was the source. The knowing that the child was coming. You already knew. The report just confirmed."
"Confirmed." Jae-min acknowledged.
— • • • —
Gabriel was at the table with her knee-length black hair loose and her golden eyes bright — not the bright of shock but the bright of a woman who was flirty and whose flirty did not stop for reports.
She was spectacular.
There was no other word for it — the kind of beauty that was almost aggressive in its abundance, the tall, curvaceous body that carried itself with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she looked like and had been using it for thirty-three years. The full, generous figure that turned heads and broke hearts and made men forget what they were saying mid-sentence.
Her knee-length black hair fell around her like a curtain, and her golden eyes were bright with the particular brightness of a woman who was always performing and always real and always flirty.
"I am Group two — Elemental, Wind." Gabriel announced to the table, her voice carrying the easy confidence of a woman who was stating a fact and whose stating was expressed as flirty because flirty was what Gabriel was. "Same group as Mark Jordan and Vasquez and Aiko and Paolo and Chocho."
"And Elena Cortez." Alessia added.
"And Elena Cortez." Gabriel confirmed, her golden eyes finding Elena at the table. "But Elena's blood is Group one — fundamental. She is in the wrong group. She is the anomaly."
"The anomaly — the investigation is ongoing." Alessia confirmed.
"Ongoing." Gabriel repeated, and the flirty came back.
"I am also a wife. One of the five. I am Elemental, Jae-min is Fundamental. Cross-species." She paused, her golden eyes turning to Alessia with a sharpness that was not flirty. "What is my compatibility with Jae-min?"
"I have not run your number — I ran Yue's, Ji-yoo's, and my own." Alessia admitted. "The cross-match tells me your blood group. The compatibility number requires a separate analysis."
"Run mine." Gabriel requested, and the request was also a command.
"I will, today." Alessia promised.
"Today — because if my compatibility is high enough, I want a child too." Gabriel declared, and the declaration landed on the table like something solid and heavy, delivered by a woman whose body was built for abundance and whose abundance was now aimed at motherhood.
The table heard.
Ji-yoo's dark eyes went to Gabriel — the looking of a twin on her brother's lap whose own athletic build was different from Gabriel's spectacular one.
Yue's marble went to Gabriel — the on-Gabriel of a marble woman who was seventy percent and whose seventy was not one hundred.
Alessia's black eyes went to Gabriel — the looking of a wife who was one hundred percent and pregnant.
Jae-min ate his rice.
The household accepted everything, and I want a child too was everything.
Accepted.
— • • • —
Rico was at the table with his dark eyes on his plate and his hand on Marie's hand under the table — the holding that Rico did because Rico was clingy and whose clingy was the biology that the report had confirmed.
Marie sat beside him with her notebook open and her pen moving, six months pregnant, her black hair falling past her shoulders.
She was beautiful in the way that a storm is beautiful — the dark hair and the black eyes and the full, generous curves that pregnancy had only amplified, the voluptuous figure that carried itself with a grace that was both demure and commanding.
The kind of beauty that was simultaneously gentle and overwhelming, the kind that made you think of thunderstorms and the particular electricity of a woman who was always counting and always calm and always six months pregnant.
"The report says I have a trace of fundamental — a shadow of Jae-min's void in my essence genome." Rico murmured to Marie, his voice low.
"A shadow of Jae-min, in you." Marie echoed, her hand in his.
"The report says it might be projection — Yue's sensing, not confirmed." Rico continued, his thumb moving across Marie's knuckles.
"Not confirmed." Marie confirmed, her pen pausing on the notebook.
"But if it is real — if the trace is real, then I have a piece of Jae-min in me." Rico said, the words landing slowly. "A piece of the void. A piece of the fundamental. In my Body Enhancement essence."
"A piece of your nephew, in your blood." Marie said, her violet eyes warm.
"A piece of my nephew in my blood." Rico repeated, the filing taking time. "The report says it does not change my blood group, does not change my power, does not change anything. Just a shadow. A trace. A maybe."
"A maybe." Marie echoed, and her hand tightened on his.
— • • • —
Paolo was at the far end with his Sailor Moon doll propped against the soy sauce bottle and his cracked eyeglasses on his nose and his ice spear leaning against the wall.
"Elemental — I am Elemental, Group two, Ice and Snow." Paolo narrated to the Sailor Moon doll, his voice low. "Same group as Professor Carillo and Miss Gabriel and Aiko and Captain Vasquez and Chocho."
He adjusted his cracked eyeglasses. "And I am not a canvas — I am Enhanced. The canvases are the Baselines. Hua. Marie. Carmen. Esperanza. Sofia. Lina. They are canvases. I am paint. Elemental paint. Ice paint."
He paused, looking at the doll.
"Mara — I am going to be a father four times, and the doctor says the mothers are blank canvases and I am ice paint and the children will be Enhanced, like me, Ice and Snow, Elemental, Group two." Paolo confided to the doll, his voice dropping. "Four canvases. Four children. Four ice paint children."
He paused again.
The pause of a man talking to a doll when the processing was heavy and the doll helped.
"The world is very strange." Paolo concluded.
The doll did not respond, because the doll was a doll.
But Paolo nodded at it as if it had.
— • • • —
Mark Jordan was at the table with his amber eyes measuring — always measuring, the measuring of a professor who could not stop being a professor.
"The thermodynamics of Creation — Alessia creates matter from nothing, Life at its fundamental tier." Mark Jordan theorized, his voice carrying the cadence of a professor thinking out loud. "The first law says energy cannot be created or destroyed. If Alessia is creating matter, she is either violating the first law or drawing energy from a source we cannot measure."
"She is drawing from Life — Life at its fundamental tier, the energy is Life." Jae-min offered from the head of the table.
"Life as an energy source." Mark Jordan breathed, his amber eyes widening. "Life as a fundamental force — like gravity, like electromagnetism, like the strong and weak nuclear forces. Life is a fifth fundamental force."
"A fifth force — Life at its fundamental tier, Creation." Alessia confirmed. "The power to make something from nothing. It is the force that makes the other forces possible, because without Life there is nothing to experience the forces. Life is the context. The medium. The thing that makes physics matter."
"Life is the thing that makes physics matter." Mark Jordan repeated, the repeating of a professor filing the most important physics insight of his life. "I need to write this down."
"You need to eat your rice." Aiko countered from beside him, her loupe down, her black eyes on him.
Aiko was petite and precise, her frame small and neat and built for the kind of work that required steady hands and sharp eyes — the compact body of a woman whose physique was a tool maintained as carefully as the Hellfire.
Her loupe was down and her black eyes were on Mark Jordan and her black eyes said eat your rice.
Beside her, Mei was in her wheelchair with Chocho in her lap and the tablet on her knees.
She shared the same petite, precise build — the same compact frame, slender and efficient, the build of a woman whose power was information and whose information did not require height or muscle.
Chocho's blue eyes were bright in Mei's lap, and Mei's crimson hair was tied back, and her eyes were on the tablet.
"Rice first." Mark Jordan conceded, and ate.
But his amber eyes were still measuring.
— • • • —
Elena Cortez was at the table.
Her black hair fell past her waist, and her black eyes moved between the faces at the table with the sharp, intelligent gaze of a woman who had graduated at nineteen and had walked eleven days barefoot through a frozen city.
She was slender and sharp-featured, her build compact and efficient — the kind of body that was built for endurance rather than display, the kind of beauty that lived in the intelligence of her face and the steadiness of her gaze.
Her thermal aura hummed at its constant low frequency, and the warmth that preceded her was the warmth of a woman whose power was always on.
She had heard Gabriel call her the anomaly.
She sat at the table and ate her rice and did not speak about the anomaly because the anomaly was her and her blood was Group one and her power was elemental and the investigation was ongoing.
Elena Vasquez was on the east wall — Captain Vasquez, with her earth-dark eyes and her soil-dark skin and her hand flat on the wall, palm down, the earth humming through the contact.
She was tall and powerful, her body carrying the full, commanding curves of a woman who was both captain and element — the kind of figure that filled a uniform and made the uniform look like it had been designed for her.
She stood on the wall because the wall was where the captain was and the captain was the earth and the earth held the wall.
— • • • —
The woman in white was on the east wall.
Standing.
Watching.
The katanas on her back, the Glocks in the holsters, the goggles up, the balaclava on.
Her green eyes were on the city, not on the dining hall, not on the household, not on the report she had not been present for because the woman in white did not sit at tables and did not eat in front of people and did not attend presentations.
But she had read it.
The report was on the tablet, the tablet was accessible, and the woman in white had accessed it last night on the east wall in the dark. All twelve sections. All ten pieces.
She had read the section about herself.
Group three.
Body Enhancement.
Regeneration.
Signature C.
Trace of Signature A — deep, woven, uncertain.
Possibly projection.
Possibly real.
Five months of exposure.
"The report says I have a deep trace — fundamental, woven into my essence genome, and the report says it is uncertain, possibly projection, possibly real, and I know the truth that the report does not know because I was there." the woman in white reflected, her green eyes on the frozen city, the goggles dry this morning — no tears, the tears were last night, filed behind the goggles, behind the balaclava, behind the silence.
The report said she was Group three.
Body Enhancement.
Not fundamental.
Not the same species as Jae-min.
Cross-species.
Low compatibility.
The woman in white did not know her number — she had not asked, had not wanted the number, because the number would be either hope or despair and she did not know which and the not-knowing was safer.
But the report said the trace was deep.
And if the trace was real — if the fundamental was woven into her Body Enhancement signature — then maybe the number was not as low as it would be without the trace.
Maybe.
Maybe was not a number.
Maybe was maybe.
The woman in white stood on the east wall.
The city was frozen.
The wall was cold.
The compound was loud behind her.
She was not part of the loud.
She was part of the wall.
— • • • —
The ridge group — the thirty on the walls — had read the report or heard about it.
The thirty who were Baseline and whose Baseline was the Blank Slate.
"We are blank canvases." a private said on the east wall to another private.
"Blank canvases — compatible with any Enhanced, any species." the other private confirmed.
"Even the captain." the first private said.
"Even the captain." the second confirmed.
"So if I —" the first private started.
"Do not finish that sentence." the sergeant cut in from behind them, the frozen mustache and the torn garrison cap.
"Copy." the private said, and did not finish the sentence.
The coalition — the twenty-one — had processed with the simplicity of people who were not scientists: we are blank, we can have kids with anyone, good.
The Hearth had processed with warmth — because the Hearth processed everything with warmth.
Tessa in the infirmary with Lianne on her hip.
Father Emil with his glowing hands.
Kiko in the greenhouse with Lina.
Sarah on the north wall.
Jomar on the east wall.
"We are a different species — Group four, Support." Tessa observed, her warmth aura humming. "But the warmth does not care about species. The warmth is for everyone."
"The light does not care about species — the light is for everyone." Father Emil confirmed, his hands glowing.
"The plants do not care about species — the plants grow for everyone." Kiko added from the greenhouse.
"The stone does not care about species — the stone shapes for everyone." Jomar said from the wall.
"I sense everyone regardless of blood type." Sarah reported from the north wall.
The Hearth was Support.
Group four.
A different species.
But the Support was support — for everyone, regardless.
The Support did not care about the species because the Support was the thing that helped, and helping did not have a blood type.
— • • • —
The morning after was loud, and the loud was the sound of two hundred and forty-eight people processing, and the processing was what the household did, and the household did it together at the table with food.
Ji-yoo was still on Jae-min's lap — the combat-trained body curled on her brother like a koala.
Yue was still marble — the hunter's body still, the marble on the plate.
Alessia was still the doctor — the slender, fine-boned frame, pregnant, fundamental, Creation.
Hua was still on the stool — the crimson-haired abundance, three and a half months, supervising.
Jennifer was still soft — the shy beauty, telepath, feeling everyone, wet eyes.
Gabriel was still flirty — the spectacular, generous curves, golden eyes, wind, wanting a child.
Rico was still steady — colonel, hand on Marie's hand.
Marie was still counting — the dark-haired, violet-eyed storm, den mother, six months, notebook, pen.
Paolo was still talking to the Sailor Moon doll — cracked eyeglasses, ice spear, four children.
Mark Jordan was still measuring — amber eyes, physics, rice.
Aiko was still practical — petite, precise, loupe, circuit board, eat your rice.
Mei was still in her wheelchair — the same compact, efficient frame, tablet, Chocho, genius, Baseline.
Elena Cortez was still at the table — the sharp, intelligent, compact build, thermal aura humming.
Elena Vasquez was still on the wall — the tall, powerful, commanding earth-captain, hand on the stone.
The woman in white was still on the wall — goggles, balaclava, silence, regret.
The household was the household.
The report changed the biology.
Not the people.
The people were the same people they had been yesterday and the day before and the day before that.
The report just told them what they were.
The who was the same.
The what was different.
And Jae-min ate his rice at the head of the table with his twin on his lap and his wife beside him and his household around him and his compound behind him and his void inside him and his child coming.
The rice helped.