"Confirmed."

Pulses of light rippled across a 3D holographic brain scan. 

Ren stood in the infirmary, arms crossed, watching as her medic, Mamoru, analyzed the results.

"He has no implant."

Keshi lay on a gurney, his torso wrapped in blood-stained bandages.

Yuki stared at him, wide-eyed, holding a tablet, absently pressing the nib of her pen to her chin.

"But how could she transplant into someone who doesn’t have an Ichor? There was no link..."

Akashi gazed intensely into Keshi’s eyes.

"Emi, you really don’t remember anything?"

Keshi (Emi) let out a pained grunt.

"I told you, no! Last thing I remember, I was in that Sando freak. Then I looked up, and there was this bright light. Next thing I know, I’m in this kid, bleeding all over the floor."

Ren’s eyes narrowed.

【Atsu. Find him?】

【Keshi Kagami. 18 years old. Lives alone in refugee relocation housing.】

【I want a complete profile.】

【Yes, Commander.】

"Emi. What did the light look like?"

"It looked like a light! What do you want me to say! A white light. Then nothing."

Yuki stood speechless, jotting down notes, occasionally shaking her head in disbelief.

"What did the light feel like? Did you have any unusual thoughts or feelings before you saw the light?"

Keshi (Emi) grimaced, words catching in his throat.

"Ghh–I don’t know! Ask me questions when I’m back in my own body!"

As Akashi continued his interrogation, Ren grew increasingly impatient.

Fixated on exactly the wrong thing, as usual.

"Akashi, focus! This is now a rescue operation, not a lab experiment. Primary objective is extracting my agent. That’s an order."

Keshi (Emi) looked up at Akashi with a pleading expression, grabbing at the sleeve of his lab coat.

"Please?"

Akashi gave Keshi (Emi) a reassuring nod, but his eyes appeared distant.

"Don’t worry. We won’t let anything happen to you."

Mamoru interjected.

"Commander Sasaki, every second counts. This was a quick fix. We need to get him in for surgery as soon as possible."

Akashi inhaled and let out a sigh, recomposing himself.

"Right. The obvious first measure would be installing an Ichor. If successful, it may isolate her ego long enough for extraction.”

Mamoru leaned over Keshi (Emi)’s shoulder.

"Emi, I’m going to give you some morphine for the pain."

"Ugh. Finally."

"No."

Keshi (Emi) looked back to Akashi with a look of desperation.

"Any major shifts in consciousness could displace her, and make recovery impossible."

"But—"

"—Not to mention..."

Yuki tapped her pen against her chin.

"If we put him under for surgery, there’s a risk that we trap her in his subconscious. At that point, we’d be dealing with textbook assimilation."

"That’s totally inhumane!"

Akashi responded matter-of-factly.

"Yes. But our best chance."

Ren pressed her middle finger to her temple. 

She knew her own limitations. That meant occasionally deferring to the expertise of her crew. But whether this was medical or phenomenological—she had no idea.

In principle, she would rather side with Mamoru, but Akashi was the architect of this thing—if she couldn’t trust him at a time like this—what good was he?

Ren let out a tense sigh.

"Alright. Mamoru, take him in for surgery."

She paused.

"No anesthesia."

Keshi (Emi) let out a pained whimper. Mamoru stared down at him with a look of pity.

"Yes, Commander."

"Once he’s stabilized, install the Ichor."

Ren looked down at Keshi (Emi) on the bed.

"I’m sorry, Emi."

Keshi (Emi) groaned.

"I hate you so much."

Ren felt a twinge, then a sudden lump—as if her guilt had laid an egg in her stomach. 

Emi… 

Mamoru pressed a button on the bed and wheeled Keshi (Emi) away. 

Ren watched them go with a conflicted look in her eyes.

…If that’s what it takes.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

In the operating room, Keshi (Emi) lay on the surgical bed, staring up at the bright, halo-shaped surgical lamp above him.

His eyes narrowed.

Just get me out of here…

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

A digital screen on the operating room door flashed to:

SURGERY IN PROGRESS

Ren leaned against the wall just outside the door, arms crossed, staring down at her feet with a troubled expression.

The surgical bot made a whirring sound on the other side as it began to operate.

Keshi (Emi) let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Ren winced, before planting her other foot firmly on the ground.

She would listen to those screams. Carve them into memory.

The cries intensified—gutteral—gargling—wordless.

If nothing else. She would remember the consequences of failure. 

Ren reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a foil blister pack. She turned it over, pushing out the last small black pill at the bottom—popping it into her mouth.

She tilted her head back and swallowed. After staring at the ceiling light for a moment, she let out a heavy sigh.

It was going to be a long night.

MORE AGONIZED SCREAMS