I slowly lathered in my shampoo, staring hard at the muzzy reflection of myself in the fogged up glass. The fact was, I had very little confidence in myself, as a separate Carrier. When I Collaborated with Aleph, when our fragments manifested and slotted together around us, we felt like a god. When Bitch and Grue and Imp and Lambda-154 were slotted in, I felt as though there was nothing in the world that could hold us back.

That wasn't true, obviously, and if it were anybody other than Lambda-154 asking, I would have balked at the start. I worked in my conditioner, drawing lazy circles against my scalp.

She never asked for anything — mostly because she already knew all the answers, but the point still stood — and if she said that Aleph and I needed more power for the plan to work, then I was sure we did. The other option was losing Lambda-154 for good and that wasn't something either of us — any of us, even if Aisha and Bitch had some issues with showing affection — were prepared to do. Lambda-154 was a top-tier Thinker, but she had masqueraded as a Thinker-Observer crossbreed for years, because she had exactly zero interest in breeding. She had confided that she didn't even have an inclination towards... physical collaboration in general.

So naturally, if the PRT wanted to insist that she pair off with Kappa-011, some rich old Pure Thinker who had outlived five of his breeding partners after they had Collaborated with him enough to significantly enhance his abilities, then the only option was...

Well, Aleph liked to call it 'Operation: Fuck Off'.

I had resolved to do my best, and I renewed that resolve as I turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower. And if my best meant primping, dressing up, and doing my level, awkward best to entice a couple Fighter-mixes into physical collaboration, then that was just what was going to have to happen. There was nothing wrong with giving it the old college try, I was sure. I might not be a... an Emma, figure-wise, but Aisha had said showing enough interest would be a surefire tactic, for the Docks. Given that Brian had made a face like he had just bit into a lemon — a rotten one, at that — but hadn't corrected her, I chose to tentatively believe her.

My fledgeling confidence lasted about as long as it took me to dry my hair and get into The Dress.

It deserved capitalization — I wasn't sure where Lambda-154 had found it, but she had to have paid through the nose for it. The fabric was sinfully soft and smooth against my skin, and my normal pallor actually seemed to be enhanced by the dark red dress instead of making me look even pastier than usual. It draped flatteringly in the front, artfully disguising the rather stark absence of any bust to speak of, arching up round my neck in a halter top. From there, it managed to be almost entirely backless, the lower edge resting just above my tailbone. The heels I was emphatically instructed to wear transformed the normal cant of my hips, resulting in a subtle but surprisingly eye-catching curve.

"Since when do you have an ass?" Aleph wanted to know, leaning in the open doorway as he fiddled with his cufflinks.

"Since we let Lambda-154 do the shopping, apparently." My voice came out a little strangled.

"We'd better let her keep doing that, then," he decided, letting his eyes drag up and down my body. He twirled his finger around pointedly. "Come on, let me see the whole shebang, Taf." I obligingly did a little spin, and he let out an obscenely low whistle when he caught sight of the slit that went all the way to mid-thigh. "Damn." He shook his head, catching his lower lip with his teeth briefly. "If we didn't have a boat to catch..."

"Well, we do." I coughed and waved the crystal-tipped pins in my hand a little desperately. "...help me with my hair?"

"I'm gonna do all the work and some muscle-head Fighter is going to wreck it in two-seconds flat," he complained, but he pushed off from the door and took over for me.

It was a good thing he had; we had just enough time to stuff my backpack in the suitcase and catch the tram headed for the shore. The rest of the crew was already waiting for us when we got there, but aside from Aleph and I the only ones particularly dressed up were Bitch and Lambda-154. The former had somehow been talked into black slacks and a sleeveless dress shirt, and Lambda-154 had found herself a nice, conservative long-sleeved evening gown in lilac and black lace for the night. None of us were sitting together once the ship departed since we had bought our tickets at the last possible moment, just to be on the safe side. So I was left alone again, with my thoughts and worries.

Brockton Bay was an artificially regulated dwarf planet with two main landmasses: the residential city I had spent my entire life in, and the Docks. The Docks were where the larger Carriers and frigates entered and departed, but they also doubled as the pleasure district for the colony. Strip clubs, whore-houses, and casinos filled the seedier streets, but there were also high-class playhouses and theaters. Aleph had spent some time there before being shipped over to meet me, and he still took trips out every now and again.

Still, I had never set foot there, for all I had seen the glittering sprawl of neon and glass below when we went out on jobs to the closest colonies, so it was completely understandable that I had to stop a moment to take it all in when I first stepped off the ship. Lambda-154 hooked her arm through mine and neatly steered me forward, waving at Aleph.

"You go on and have fun," she bade him. "Brian and Aisha will make sure all of our stuff transferred over alright, and Bitch and I will look after your better half while she gets her sealegs."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he beamed and curled his hand around my nape, pulling me in for a peck on the cheek before strolling off with a skip in his step. I thought he might even be humming.

Lambda-154 all but dragged me off in the opposite direction, Bitch prowling along in our wake. Our destination for the night seemed to be a casino, which... well, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't surprised. I thought we would have started at a bar, or perhaps a club; I knew most places in the Docks didn't ask for ID as long as you had the credits for an entrance fee, but this seemed a bit ambitious. Or, a dark, self-deprecating part of me piped up, Lambda-154 had already written my part in the plan off as a failure and wanted to at least recoup the credits she wasted on my outfit.

Said Thinker reached out and pinched my side, hard, without looking away from the craps table she had been eyeing up. "Stop that," she scolded me. "There's a lounge with a bar upstairs. That's usually where the Carriers looking for a fight or other ways to spend the night mill around when they're sick of losing credits. Bitch and I will be down here if you need us."

Bitch grunted in what was probably agreement and stalked off to find a wall to hold up. I couldn't blame her for being irritable, since we had shipped the dogs over earlier this week, but that didn't stop the trill of terrified betrayal I felt about being left on my own. Lambda-154 sighed and wrapped her arm around my waist in a loose hug, pressing her cheek against my arm briefly.

"You're going to be fine," she told me. "And if you go up and don't find anybody you like, then we'll just let Aleph pull an all-nighter. I'm not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to — or anybody, for that matter."

"I know," I said quietly. "I just... what if nobody — "

"In that dress?" she snorted. "Don't be stupid, Taf. You look like you stepped out of a magazine. You'll have your pick of the whole place, mark my words."

"Okay," I murmured, hugging her back briefly before taking a few faltering steps forward. I glanced around, and when nobody seemed to look at me askance just because I had left the safety-bubble that was Lambda-154's side, I kept going. Straight back, past the cashiers, right up to the elevator. There were people already waiting — two young couples, tourists, from what I could gather from the rather posh and dazzled atmosphere they had going on — but the elevator was big enough to fit all of us. One of the men hit the button for the lounge and I shifted back into a corner, trying to choke down the lump in my throat as the glass box glided up.

The doors slid open to — well, I'm certain it fit the dictionary definition of 'lounge', but the bar might as well have been a stage given how it stretched down the far wall, and there was already a crush of people on the dance floor. The lady tourists dragged their significant others off in that direction, while the men cast longing glances at the bar. I stepped out behind them, lingering awkwardly in front of the elevator for a moment as I took everything in. Lambda-154 was right, I admitted to myself. I had just as much chance of finding somebody here as I did at a club.

I took a few more tentative steps in, so that I was actually on the carpet instead of the tile, and forced myself to take a good glance around. She had also said that I would have my pick of the lot and while a part of me was still plagued with self-doubt —

I wanted that one.

I froze when my eyes caught on him. I think I forgot to breath too, but that wasn't really important at the moment, because right then I just wanted so hard my teeth ached. It was a little scary; I didn't know the man from Adam, but he was big and he wasn't even manifested but I could already feel his shards shimmering just out of this dimension like a heat wave in the distance and — and —

And he was looking right back at me. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, as he lazily eyed me up from where he was lounging against a balcony above the bar. I had the primal impression of a predator licking its chops. I was pretty sure that in any other situation, that would have sent me running for the hills but I... I wanted. I wanted him, I wanted to feel those fragments searing across my own, I wanted...

He left the balcony, and I immediately snapped back to my senses, as though I had been doused with ice water.

What the hell was that?

I sucked in a quick breath and retreated back towards the elevator, leaning against a fat pillar and using the cold stone against my bare back as an anchor as I tried to get my thoughts in order. That... that had probably been a Pure Fighter, I rationalized. Apparently the attraction wasn't some bullshit gimmick, like the name thing. Okay. Okay. That was probably a good thing. If I had felt all that, then he had to at least have gotten a little of the same from me, right? Right.

"Miss?"

I snapped out of my little pep-talk and stared at the suited man attempting to get my attention. He was nondescript but projected an air of quiet purpose. I straightened up and smoothed down the front of my dress self-consciously.

"Yes?" I asked, forcing more calm and control into my voice than I was really feeling.

"One of our VIP guests upstairs would like to meet you," he said, and gestured towards a curtained hall directly behind the pillar I had been using to support myself. "If you would permit him the honor...?"

I stared at him for a long moment, before nodding slowly and finally stepping away from the pillar. I folded my hands in front of me as I followed him back towards another elevator to keep myself from fidgeting with my dress or my hair as I watched the numbers climb higher. This was way more success than I had expected, and I was left feeling a bit adrift and confused in the wake of it. I knew — what to do, I wasn't stupid, Aleph usually gave me play-by-plays about his various conquests, whether I wanted to hear it or not. But theoretical knowledge and practical experience were two very, very different things.

The attendant stepped out of the elevator and led me to another door, before giving a short bow and walking away briskly before I even had the chance to thank him. Or at least, try to think about thanking him; The aggressive hum of those fragments had started back up again almost as soon as the elevator doors had slid open, and I was finding it hard to focus on anything other than keeping my own fragments from synching up with his wavelength. Fighter Carriers transferred information and energy much more efficiently if there was a physical connection, hence why there wasn't more of a crackdown in regards to keeping them from fighting each other.

Also, it was pretty rude to do that without permission, even if you were pretty sure that was what they wanted.

I took one last breath to steady myself and reached up to knock. The door slid open as soon as I touched it, dragging cold marble against the back of my knuckles and leaving me standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. Or maybe a cow in a tractor beam, like those pre-colonization tabloid stories, because once my eyes caught his again I ended up stepping inside without even thinking about it. I kept walking even after the door slid shut behind me, feeling that strange, twisting heat worm its way back under my skin.

He was sprawled back against a leather couch, his arms slung over the back, and the first thing I really noticed was that what I had taken from a distance to be a shirt was actually a series tattoos: long, serpentine dragons twisting down from his shoulders to wrap around his arms, curling down from his neck to slide down a broad, hard chest and hug a rib-cage wrapped in pure muscle, their tails tapering off just shy of the v-lines curving up out of his low-slung pants. I was not complaining at all, but I suddenly felt decidedly overdressed, in all sorts of ways. I reached up to tuck a loose curl behind my ear in a nervous tick and nearly jumped when his eyes snapped to the side, practically burning.

Oh, I realized belatedly, as he rose up and closed the distance between us in a few long strides. He hadn't seen the dress from the back until then.

Lambda-154 was right about everything, ever, period, I decided once he was in front of me, one large hand curving over the bared small of my back. But she was especially right about the heels; he was even taller than I was, and they closed enough of the gap that I only had to tilt my head up a little for him to dip down and seal his mouth over mine.

I thought I might have some familiar ground to stand on, given that Aleph and i had at least done that much together, but my Fighter — I was pretty sure he was a Warrior Carrier, but I was too damn caught up in the rush to really know for sure — seemed to take a scorched-earth policy in sharp contrast to Alephs playful give-and-take. My hands slipped up to curl against his biceps, for balance. Mostly balance. Well, partly balance. They were also really, really nice biceps — rock firm.