Beyond the Broken Moon - Dear Katja

February 2068. Rebecca, now part of the Broken Moon Circus, is under the care of a psychologist who tasked her to keep a diary - hoping that it will help her cope with her fragile mental state.

February 2, 2068

Dear Katja,

It’s been almost two months since… since that. My therapist has somehow forced me to keep a diary, but diaries are too… impersonal. Thus, here I am, still your stupid little sister, writing you letters you’ll never read. There is no suitable digital device on board of this floating tin can and the satellite internet connection is very shaky. So, pen and paper it is, despite my paws making it hard to write – and I mean it. I needed quite some time to get accustomed to them – they get in the way of basically everything. Eating, fiddling with tools, firing a gun, reading a book, even just – you know, when the cravings pile up… okay I’ll skip this part because it’s very awkward to write about that, even if it’s the kind of stuff you’d have had no problems speaking of. It’s like wearing two oversized mittens with a complement of sharp nails on all the time. All the time.

Lucia doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest – admittedly, she had almost six months to get accustomed to them. But I? I’m not a born wolf. I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to get this down. After all, I’m the dumb one of the two, the one that is just good at shooting and disappearing, like the ever-shrinking violet I’ve ever been. You would have immediately learned how to… huh, do that thing properly and then would have even boasted it in front of your latest boyfriend (was it called Mark or Gene? I seriously lost count).

I miss you, sis.

I wish I could have joined you.

But I have something I must do.

My paw is hurting, writing with a pen isn’t something I’ve done in two or three years. For today, that is all I can tell you.

Love you,

Rebecca

February 3, 2068

Dear Katja,

My therapist nodded in approval, when she saw me penning down those notes yesterday. She’s a weird woman, all things considered, but who isn’t weird aboard the Mattanza? Lucia says she found this lady in Guangzhou during a refueling pause and that convincing her to join the crew was relatively easy. The only issue is that she can only speak two languages: Cantonese – duh – and a very specific South Italian dialect. Yes, South Italian. Because almost the whole crew of this ship is Italian. Very few of them speak English, most of them speak some dialect, none of them can understand Bosnian. They call Lucia ‘a riggina lupo, the wolf queen. I wonder what moniker I’ll get, if any.

I understand enough Italian that I can start picking up bits and pieces of conversations, but not enough to communicate properly. So, to talk with my therapist I have to resort to some sketchy online translation service, when we have network connectivity, or hand signs, when we don’t have it. You know when we joked that Lucia spoke with her hands? All Italians do. It’s charming and frustrating at the same exact time.

You would have liked the crew, though. Maybe, you would have even dated some of them. You had a weakness for sailors, didn’t you? A sailor was your first, a very tall, gorgeous Algerian sailor. I remember that night as if it were yesterday, because whatever you felt… I felt it too, in the intimate darkness of my room.

My hand is hurting again. Writing with a ballpoint pen with these fingers requires too much focus.

I’ll write you again tomorrow.

Promise.

Yours forever,

Rebecca

February 4, 2068

Dear Katja,

Lucia remained in my room till late at night, after I finished writing yesterday’s passage. She talked and talked and talked, smiling too for the whole time. Lucia. Smiling. Yes, I swear, I’m not joking. Our grumpy Lucia, always the resentful, was smiling and hugging me, patting my hair, caressing my fur, telling me everything about MIRAI Nanami’s new album, an upcoming collection of high fashion clothes by Arturo Mezzalenco and a new food stall that opened in Hong Kong last week. She is the polar opposite of the Lucia we knew. Cheerful, carefree, as if she left every burden behind, back in Tokyo, under the rubble of the Kiku apartment complex. I… enjoyed her company. Hours passed by without me even realizing it. We… even sang some songs together, with the occasional howl that I still can’t control. You should see how she laughs, that scoundrel. Every time I howl by mistake, she gives me the raspberry and pinches my ears, while I hide my flustered face between my ~~hands~~ paws.

It was… fun.

Yes, it was fun.

Singing and dunking on the new album. This Nanami v2 is inferior to the original, I tell you. Her songs sound like written by a trend-chasing committee. There’s no soul in them.

Yet, we had fun.

It was fun.

I had… fun.

I feel guilty for having fun.

You aren’t here to enjoy it.

You aren’t here anymore.

You aren’t here

You

Come back please come back please come back don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t

February 5, 2068

Dear Katja,

Your dumb ~~crybaby~~ sister ended up sitting on a chair in the common room till 4AM, crying her eyes out while being hugged by Lucia. She refused to go to sleep till I calmed down, till I finally sunk in a dreamless slumber. Even then, she left Blade by my side. Now, Blade is an anomaly, the only other mutant on board (except us fair wolf ladies). A big shark guy with yellow skin and deep green eyes. And… and…

His muscles, sis.

You should have seen his pecs. I’ve got a glance of his bare chest just once, but that was enough to make me feel like I was burning, as if my whole body was begging me to act on that. I must have become redder than red, imagining him fucking me hard with his massive erect shark cock and no, no, NO! Scratch that! Black marker it is! I’m not leaving this written down for that psycho therapist or you to read!

It’s all this form’s fault, this half wolf form in which I’m trapped! It amplifies my senses, my feelings, by a factor ten at least. Everything is sharper. I can smell, see, hear stuff that I’d never thought I could. Which is a blessing and a curse, especially on a former fishing vessel that reeks of rotten cod.

Lucia told me something that scared me, though.

“Try to get used to it, it will get even worse when you go in heat.”

When you go in heat.

In heat, like a wild beast.

Now, sis, I hope she was joking.

Because, if that happens, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from topping that shark so hard I’ll dry him out of all fluids no, no, no, not again! Not again! STRIKE THAT OUT!

Where’s the black marker when I need it?!

I hope you’ll be able to accept this… weird part of me, when we meet again.

Because we will meet again, right, Katja?

Love you,

Becky

February 6, 2068

Dear Katja,

Today, Lucia brought me a book about the reality matrix, written by a certain Villam Hassan Sanderbach (what a name). His prose is really pompous and know-it-all-y, but I’ve devoured it, read it in five hours. My therapist (her name is Tian Zhu, apparently) asked me to summarize it for you, but it’s quite complex for the dumber sister of the two (me). I can try, though.

Besides, it has become easier to write. Lucia gave me some nail covers she uses to play with her dolls.

She’s

still playing with the rag dolls I made for her

back when you were still with me

back when

when

Okay, okay, time out. Sanderbach. The book. Back to square one. Tian Zhu gets angry when I start screaming your name in tears. I get her. I totally do. So, no crying. Sanderbach.

So, this guy says that we are clumps of information in the reality matrix, that everything we interact with carries a part of us, which slowly gets overwritten as more interactions happen but isn’t deleted immediately. Some clumps resist deletion for years, even, and emerge like what he calls reality oscillation phenomena (yes, like in that weird recent reboot of the LIFELINE streaming series).

This means that you are

That part of you is still here

That you aren’t completely gone.

Wishful thinking, I know, but if you ever resurface as a ROP… please, come find me.

No matter your shape or form.

I’ll recognize you, sis.

I’ll know it’s you.

Dreaming,

Rebecca

February 7, 2068

Dear clump of information of my sister that is still lurking around,

Lucia doesn’t give up on me, every day she tries something new to lift my mood. This afternoon, we landed in HK and she sneaked me out of the ship, in secret. She brought me to an old, broken down cinema that had very, very old movies. She’s a regular there and seem to know the owner well, to the point of getting free tickets and no questions about our… peculiar appearance. We were the only two people in the cinema, the whole room was our kingdom. She even came up with two cans of pop-corn, filled to the brim. It wasn’t very fresh, but still kind of crunchy. And you would never guess what movie was projected!

I’ll give you a hint: You named your rifle after it.

Got it yet?

Come on, it’s easy!

It’s Dune, of course! Your rifle, the Duke Leto, you chose its name after the character, right? It was the only book that survived the bombing of our house, back in Sarajevo. You loved reading it, I think you went through it at least a hundred of times.

I’ve… never enjoyed it, to be honest.

Every character is a shade of grey, there is no real good and a lot of real evil, morally ambiguous people against morally bankrupt people.

But the movie.

Oh my goodness.

It was so bad.

The guy who played Feyd-Rautha was wearing a diaper, the visual effects were horrible, and what even was that guild navigator?! Lucia told me that this film is almost a century old (1980s? Something like that). It was so badly received that it bombed and lost its producers a lot of money. I can totally understand why. Shame that they never made a second attempt at filming Dune, though, you would have loved a more faithful adaptation. Sadly, that 1980 flick is the one and only that was ever made.

However, something puzzles me deeply, and, the more I think about it, the more I find it cruelly ironic.

Duke Leto is a man who loves his family, is strong and confident, walks into enemy territory knowing he’s going to be attacked and makes all the correct preparations to avoid the worst outcome. Then, he gets double crossed by what he believes to be an ally, he’s betrayed and killed.

You were my Duke Leto, Katja.

Betrayed and k

That vampire snake.

That leather-clad bastard.

That incestuous bitch.

She’ll get the end she deserves, sooner or later.

Like Baron Harkonnen did.

…

Sorry, this came out of left field. Tian Zhu warned me to avoid thinking too much about Yu, or I’ll get back into my shut-in-slash-depressive phase.

I’ve come out of it, I don’t want to get back to that.

I’ll endure it.

For both myself and you.

Munching pop-corn,

Rebecky

February 8, 2068

I wanna die I wanna die I want to join you I can’t stop thinking about you Katja please help me help me come back help me I need you Katja Katja Katja Katja Katja Katja Ka

February 9, 2068

Dear Katja,

Dr. Kobase sedated me yesterday, after I had a panic attack while writing on my diary. I’m sorry to have startled you, I know you wouldn’t… want me to die. I’m sure of it, because Nadia told me what you asked her, before dying.

“Protect Becky.”

You used your last breath to beg her to protect me.

I can’t… I can’t waste this life, a life you lost yours for.

I’m so dumb. I’m so stupid. Among the two, I was always the denser. You wanted me to live, Katja. You wanted me to live. I can’t

I can’t wither away like this.

It would be like slapping you in the face, after all you did for me.

Like killing you again.

Punching your corpse.

Desecrating your grave.

No, I get it. I get it. I get it.

get

I’ll live.

For me and you.

For you and me.

I’ll live on.

Oh, on the topic of Nadia…

She surprised me.

Nadia Nagase, the emotionless Angel… she cried for you. She helped me escape. And, maybe even more surprisingly…

She calls me and Lucia.

Once every two or so weeks, maybe, but she does, in secret – using a burner phone Lucia gifted her. Though, I guess I’ll never get used to her way of talking.

“Question: how are you feeling, Ghost – correction: Rebecca?”

“Acknowledged.”

“Question: I’ve sent you something, have you received it?”

“Remark: your voice sounds better.”

“Question: how’s Lucia? Nivandra sends greetings.”

“Remark: Yu is the usual bitch.”

For the record, that something she sent me via a shady courier is a vinyl of 47-Shishichi’s new album, ‘The Coming Second’. I don’t even know how she got that idea, but she did. My hunch is that Nivandra guided her hand: Nadia has the same sensitivity of a tin can, and Niva is the only Angel she’s even remotely fond of. Even before I left Stratosphere, it was clear as day: despite what Nadia said, Niva is her favorite. I guess she has a sort of ‘big sister instinct’ towards her, or even a motherly one? Still, the fact that Niva chose a very explicit album with uncensored sexual content speaks volumes about her current cravings. Teen girls and their hormones, amirite?

Sad that our teen years were spent in a juvenile prison in Sarajevo.

Well, at least we were together.

Together.

I’ll stop here, or I’ll cry again and I’ll make Lucia worried.

But know I feel better, thanks to her.

To them.

Yours faithfully,

Becca

February 10, 2068

Dearest sister,

Today I attacked my first ship. Lucia brought me with her for a raid on a small Russian container vessel. And I’ve learned something: this body is amazing for fighting.

I feel so light, every step is a pleasure, dancing with the wind. My muscles are like instruments playing a symphony, with a harmony I didn’t believe was possible. The assault was over before it even started, the armed guards just gave up as soon as we downed two of them (not lethally, just a little concussion).

The booty is one container full of elegant clothes, many of them my size. Lucia wanted to help me get a new style and that was the fastest way to try out a new collection. In the end, we just took away a dozen or so packs of clothes, after scaring the crew shitless.

It was wildly inebriating, though it feels kind of… dirty to be a pirate.

But, on the other hand, PIRATE! A true pirate! YARRRRR! Leave the rum and run, filthy land dwellers! Ye scalawags’ll taste my sword! Avast yo, swashbucklers! Make’em walk the plank!

Okay, I’m… laughing too much. I just pictured myself dressed like a pirate captain, with eyepatch, parrot and hat, but with these pesky wolf ears coming out of it – a true wolf of the sea!

I need to take a break (and look for an eyepatch).

On the route to treasure island,

Cap’n Becky Wolf Beckett

February 11, 2068

Why did I do that?

Why?

I ripped it.

I ripped it into pieces

The doll I made for Lucia, the doll shaped like me

like you

I broke it

I ripped it

I couldn’t stand seeing it anymore

I couldn’t

so I ripped it into pieces. In front of Lucia.

And Lucia cried

I made Lucia cry

I MADE HER CRY

LUCIA

MY FRIEND, MY LOVE?

Why

What got hold of me

Why

Why why why why why

Not that doll, not that doll, not that doll

I need to make amends I need to make amends I need to

February 12, 2068

Dear Katja,

Lucia’s still angry. Her eyes are red. She doesn’t want to talk to me. That doll meant everything to her, and I destroyed it. My god, what have I done?

I’m so dumb, sis, right?

So, so dumb. You were always the smart one.

Only once your brains backfired badly and was used against you, when we chose our code names.

Mine was simple. Ghost. A specter on the battlefield, one that moves without being noticed.

You went the extra mile. Lemures. The spirits of the nights, the spirits of the dead. It was a Latin word. And damn, it sounded so cool. But Magnifico boy didn’t like it. Too long.

“Ghost and Lemures? It’s too campy! What about… Ghost and Lemur?”

Lemur.

You should have seen your face, Katja. From deadly night spirit, to a pseudo-monkey mammal (is it even a monkey? Don’t ask me, I just know it’s a funny critter). You went red with rage, even tried to counteract his decision.

But, in the end, he was the boss.

So, you became Lemur.

I… still laugh a little at it. If you chose a more common name, Magnificidiot would have probably kept it ‘as-is’, but Lemures… huh, probably I’m the only one that finds this particular story funny, you know? But at least my morale has improved a little.

I’ve decided I’m gonna make amends.

I’ll fix what I’ve broken.

No matter the cost.

Idiotically breaking things,

Ghost (not a lemur)

February 13, 2068

Dear Katja,

I fixed it. It took me the whole day. The whole day, with these large paws I have instead of hands. I even added some cute wolf ears to it too, because – yes – that’s the new me. I’ve made them detachable, so Lucia can decide if she wants them on or not. I’m truly proud of it.

I fixed it. For once, I fixed something.

The doll is as good as new, better even. Blade helped me a lot. He helped me, while Lucia was still upset. Tomorrow, I’ll give it back to her. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the best day, yes, to tell her that I love her?

… but is that really the case?

I wonder. Maybe… maybe it’s different. Maybe, it’s just a combination of my body’s cravings, my hormones, and the fact that I can’t feel you fucking anymore.

I should find myself a boyfriend or even a friend with benefits, shouldn’t I, sis? This body is incredible, but requires such a high maintenance. I’m always hungry, despite almost not needing to eat, and I CAN’T HAVE CHOCOLATE!

NO CHOCOLATE.

Kobase says it might be poisonous for me!

It’s a nightmare! A NIGHTMARE.

Especially because meals on the Mattanza are almost all fish-based, with little variety. Seeing Blade eat fish is somehow off putting, before I remember he’s a shark – and sharks eat other fish species. Fortunately, we are planning to fetch some extra canned food at our next stop, so that we can vary our diet a little.

Though

NO CHOCOLATE :(

I can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

I’ll keep you posted.

Daydreaming as usual (but fixing things, for once),

Rebecca

February 14, 2068

Dear Katja,

I’m the giantest idiot who ever walked on the face of this planet and I want to hide in shame. I’m currently tucked under my bedsheets, making full use of my enhanced vision to write in the dark.

First thing first: the doll was a success. Lucia cried again, but this time of happiness. So, yay, Fix-it-all-Becky it is! The removable ears were a nice touch too, she loved them. That made her laugh, and she’s so radiant when she laughs.

So I

made the biggest stupid mistake ever.

I TRIED TO KISS HER.

ON HER MOUTH.

I’m

I’m a giant idiot.

I did that and immediately regretted it.

I don’t

I didn’t

“Becky, no. This is not what you want, and you know it.”

This is not what I want.

…

She’s right.

I tried to fill my emptiness by looking for something more than a friend, but I don’t want it.

It was

just a way to cope

to fill my void

to quench my loneliness

…

She’s right. Y ESSH EIS

When I think about her, my body doesn’t react like when I think about the cock of that absolute hunk of a golden shark. When I think about her, I feel affection but more like

…

Like a si

…

I’m not finishing that sentence,

Nobody can replace you

Not even her.

Your idiot little sister,

Rebecca

February 15, 2068

Dear Katja,

We need to talk.

Nadia called again, this time together with Nivandra. Niva wanted to see a picture of us, so we sent one (Nadia’s burner phone can still receive frickin’ MMSs apparently – I thought that tech was dead and buried? The more you know…). Lucia and I took one together, smiling. The photo got downscaled so badly that I’m surprised we’re still recognizable in it, somehow. Niva liked it a lot and asked us a lot of questions, such as whether our fur is fluffy, how soft are our ears at the touch, how warm it is to sleep with fur on half of our body, and so on and so forth.

Then, she asked whether Lucia and I are ‘heatmates’ and whether we already had sex with each other.

Now, I’m not someone that gets shocked easily (that was you, Katja), but that kid must be stopped. Okay that she’s going to be a legal adult in a month or two, but

How did she even come up with the idea of me and Lucia going in heat
Why did her brain immediately jumped to us making love together while in heat?!
Is that even a question to ask?!

After what happened yesterday, with that idiotic failed kiss (yes, no censoring black marker now) that I tried to steal from Lucy, this felt waaaaaaay too awkward. But her remark just after…

“Yay! I just want my lesbian wolf aunts to be a happy couple!”

Kid. We are not your aunts. We are not lesbian. We are not animals. AND WE ARE NOT A COUPLE. So, please, stop reading those goddamn yuri comics I know you hide under your bed and STOP thinking they are applicable to reality.

Because they aren’t.

That’s pure BS.

And it’s your fault, Katja: YOU told her that the reason why I never had a BF was because I had a weakness for blond Italian wolf girls. Your joke got too far, got it?! But, seriously, whenever Niva mentions that topic, I kind of feel like the big sister in a stereotypical American college dorm while her little sister is at the last year of school, eager to listen to spicy stories that are denied to her due to her age.

I sincerely hope she doesn’t get caught in Yu’s schemes, but at least she looks smart enough to avoid that.

Hopefully.

In more unfortunate news, Nadia also told us that it will be harder for her to call for a while – Stratosphere’s internal security has been amped up a notch and she doesn’t want to take risks. I miss her and Niva already, looking forward to the next time they’ll reach for us. Oh, and let me tell you this, Katja: witnessing Lucia trying to describe what ‘heatmate’ meant to a puzzled Nadia was absolutely priceless. I could hear her monotone, ‘emotionless’ voice breaking up even so slightly, before falling into a deadbeat silence.

Poor, naive, innocent Nadia. Never change, please.

Somehow feeling better,

Rebecca (absolutely not Lucia’s ‘heatmate’)

February 16, 2068

Dear Katja,

Happy bir

February 19, 2068

Dear Katja,

I’m sorry for my sudden silence. I had a panic attack and shut myself in for the past three days. The doctor gave me some pills, they helped a little. Found out my (quack?) therapist Tian Zhu can read English, she just pretended not being able to. So, I feel even better about having redacted certain parts. Black marker is a faithful friend. The good thing is that I don’t feel hand cramps anymore. I somehow got accustomed to writing with this mess of a hand I’ve been given.

But yes, shut in.

~~The day of our b~~

That day, I simply collapsed in tears in front of the cake Lucia ordered for me. I cried like a puppy and shut myself in my cabin. I’ve listened to ‘The Coming Second’ on repeat, for hours and hours, while crying my eyes out, reading passages from that Sanderbach book over and over.

~~This birt~~

This day doesn’t make any sense without you. It’s just

Pain

PAIN

I slept for so long.

Slept. Woke up. Slept again.

Then started listening to 47-Shishichi again.

Born within a system that kills me

Songbird in a cage with clipped wings

Longing for a wish I can’t fulfill

It’s my agony, it’s my a-go-nyyyyy!

‘On my wings to life’.

I must have sang that song fifteen times. Yet, nobody came to stop me or to complain.

They

Understood my state of mind, I guess.

While I was singing, I felt a whisper, though, that kept accompanying me in tune with my voice. The wind, maybe? But my cabin was sealed, there’s no room for air.

Was it by chance… you?

Ah, fat chance. Wishful thinking. Please, ignore that, it was just a fleeting fabrication of a delusional mind.

Now, 47-Shishichi. She’s… so similar to the old Nanami, and yet so different. Her songs are visceral, her passion is real. She’s a robot, right? But then, why? Why does she feel more human than many other humans? I can… feel her rage, in her lyrics, her wish for a world that doesn’t exist yet, for a body that could satisfy her inner desires, for getting back something that she’s lost.

There are rumors on the net, weird rumors about 47-Shishichi being the first Nanami, gone rogue after having been decommissioned and dismissed. These are just rumors, mind me, but if they were true…

We wouldn’t be so dissimilar.

We both lost the most beautiful part of ourselves. We both hid under a new skin to cope with it.

We are both struggling to find our identity and come out stronger.

But 47-Shishichi isn’t enough alone, it’s just a part of the equation. She knows it and… apparently found another half to complement herself. 74-Nanashi. 47-Shishichi. Two sides of the same medal.

She’s so strong. I’m

jealous.

I wonder whether she’ll evolve even more. What will happen to her cocoon, when she spreads her wings?

Will I be able to do the same?

Singing like a bird with clipped wings,

3becca

February 20, 2068

Dear whisper of wind pretending to be my sister,

Tian Zhu (my therapist, if you don’t remember) is so weird. A slender, slim woman, too tall to be true. I think she must be at least one meter ninety, with long, long, long, long black hair and eyes that are always wide open, with very small pupils (does she even blink?). She always looks like on the verge of a nervous breakdown, while, in fact I am. I guess she’s around thirty, if it makes sense. Give or take five years. I’ve seen her smoke the same brand of cigarettes as Blade and heard them exchanging a few words in Cantonese. Didn’t know Blade could speak it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Blade is a mystery too, under many points of view. He never talks about his past, except for his unrequited feelings for a woman called ‘D.’ – Yes, just one letter, it has to be a code name. He doesn’t seem willing to tell me the full story, but I might ask Lucy, at some point.

Back to Tian Zhu, she must have been an assassin, a chiropractor, or both. Sometimes she muses about ‘straightening my back’, while cracking her knuckles. I’d almost prefer her to have been an assassin that somehow worked in a massage parlor – an unlicensed chiropractor is much scarier. I wonder how she got her degree in psychology and psychiatry too, but I’d rather not ask.

How Lucia found her is also a mystery. The little I grasped on this woman is that she might or might not have ran a brothel in Macao, or worked there as a therapist for the girls, before moving to Guangzhou. It wasn’t clear, I can barely understand what she says, without a translation unit. Sometimes she pinches my ears too and pats my head as if I were a dog. Last week, I bit her hand as soon as she did it.

I’ve never seen Lucy laughing so hard, right as Tian Zhu started mixing Chinese insults with a South Italian ‘figghia de ‘na cagna bottana’ (I think), while putting her hand under a ice bag and wildly gesticulating at me. Well, at least she never patted my hair again.

I’m not a pet.

That made it clear to her.

I hope.

I think.

But you can pet me how much you want, sis. I’d love to hear what you think of my mane. We look so different now, but… would you still like me?

Coping with my wolf half,

Becky

P.S.: I’m not feeling that well, it’s like all my senses are even more amplified than usual. Maybe it’s the weather? Y OUW ISH

February 21, 2068

Dear Katja,

When I woke up this morning (mind still hazy, I’m still not that good) I found something on my desk. It was a crudely sewn wolf doll with rough stitches and its cotton innards barely kept together. There was a drawing too, close to it, made with what looked like crayons.

It was a… peculiar gift from Lucia.

Now, that girl has many unquestionable talents, but art is not one of them. She’s able to make even stick figures look bad, and not for the lack of trying. Lucy practices and practices, but she doesn’t improve at all despite her effort (according to Blade, at least). Once, she tried oil painting too, resulting in her throwing away the canvas in frustration after three fruitless hours. The members of the crew who witnessed her attempts weren’t even able to agree on what she was trying to portray.

Yet, despite that, she never stops practicing. That doll has probably cost her days of her life… and she made it specifically for me. It’s somehow cute, despite its roughness. I can see she put effort in. Well, at least she has better taste in fact of subjects than Mr. Magnificent Bastard, right? Do you remember what she showed us, after joining Stratosphere?

A plushie of a BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL. A literal EYE WITH EIGHT WINGS.

“It’s Eikon! The official mascot of Stratosphere, isn’t he carinissimo?”

So carinissimo that there’s still a dozen containers full of unsold Eikon plushies, somewhere in the basement of his Magnifico Tower. Well, at least the chaingear merch is cool!

Model kits, plushies with chainsaw noises, bottle openers, even the plastic figure that growls when you push its belly. All that chaingear merchandise is great, I wish I could snatch more of it. I’ve heard he sold the rights to a Japanese company that makes buildable model robots for a collab. Funny how you always were a chaingear nerd, while Nadia doesn’t want to have anything to do with it. It’s one of the few topics that elicit a reaction from her, and a weird one at it – do you remember? Like, she starts rubbing her shoulders, moving her fingers on imaginary lines around her arms. Is it because of what happened during her Rapture? I didn’t think it could still stress her, after so much time.

Back to the gift from Lucia…

She’s proof that people can change. Lucia taking care of a friend. Lucia listening music with her. Lucia bringing her to the movies. Making a doll for her, despite her lack of skills.

This is a Lucia I’d never thought I’d meet, and yet there she is.

I want to repay her, at some point, somehow – at least, in a better way than helping her sink another military corvette (thought that was admittedly a fun idea for a midnight stroll, and we totally enjoyed it yesterday).

My life rests in her ~~hands~~ paws.

On my way to fix a doll that sorely needs rescue,

plushie doctor Rebecca

P.S.: I’ve been feeling a little bit warm and dizzy, lately, with weird cravings too. I hope I haven’t caught a fever. Tomorrow I’ll get checked by Dr. Kobase.

February 22, 2068

Katja,

Your sister’s a bitch in heat.

Literally.

That’s the diagnosis of Dr. Kobase, after analyzing my blood samples.

Well, I’m not really really in heat yet, but my body is rapidly approaching that state.

Still, It’s completely unfair! I’ve read a lot about wolves, after turning! They go in heat once per year between January and April – but then, why did Lucy go in heat last September instead?! And why I’m going in heat NOW, in February? Okay, it checks out, but this has to be a bad joke.

My senses are sharper than ever, I can smell things from the complete opposite side of the ship, and every time I see a male sailor stepping by, my body reacts in… unsavory ways.

I feel like I’ll go insane, if I don’t pounce over someone and stick his throbbing cock up my pussy soon (sentence redacted because I’m feeling super dirty while writing it).

I’m also howling more and more often, so much that Blade suggested putting a muzzle on my face at night. A MUZZLE! As if I were a wild dog! Thinking back at what Nivandra said, maybe her idea of having a heatmate wasn’t that bad. If anything, I’d stop feeling like I’m burning, like my whole body is on fire, and I’d be able to deal with the problem instead of avoiding it altogether.

Kobase says it will last five to seven days.

FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS.

I can’t think straight right now, I’m literally grasping at straws to keep my mind from going full animal instinct and fuck the first guy who crosses my path!

Wish me luck, Katja.

If I survive unscathed, I’ll write you back.

Heroically resisting the urge to ask Lucia to eat my clit and fuck me till I pass out,

Rebecca

February 27, 2068

Guess what, Kat.

I didn’t resist the urge. But, of course, she said no and locked me in my cabin instead.

Fortunately.

With a muzzle on my mouth and mittens I couldn’t take off alone, so that I couldn’t break or ruin anything.

Now that my howling period has ended and nobody got hurt, I’m relieved. I couldn’t face you anymore if I actually fucked my friend. I must have caused a ruckus, but – hey – they had a protocol in place, after what Lucia did back at the end of September. Aaaand her heat lasted two weeks. I can call myself lucky, in a sense.

Still, after experiencing this (and making a mess out of my room), I start seeing Nivandra’s point. Maybe, just maybe, I should try to convince Lucia to – huh – implement a ‘heatmate emergency procedure’, whatever that means. Well, that’s a problem for next year, now. Or for September, when Lucy goes in heat again (probably?).

I wonder what you would have felt, if you were still here, if our synchronicity worked. On one hand, I wouldn’t want you to experience this.

On the other, it would be a good payback for all the times you got intimate with your BF not even two rooms away from me.

…

I’m missing that too, Kat.

Even if it was annoying, frustrating and embarrassing.

I’m missing it because you were alive.

You were still with me.

Now, I’m alone.

Dealing with a body that doesn’t feel mine.

But I’m starting to accept it.

Your finally sane again sister,

Rebecca

February 28, 2068

My dearest sister Katja,

This was going to be my last entry for a while, but I’ve changed my mind. Tian Zhu says I’m not forced to write anymore, that I’m already better and can stop holding a diary. I just… don’t want to. Writing to you helped me a lot. I don’t cry as often anymore (bar the heat period) and I seem to finally have been able to cope with… our birthday, in today’s session.

I needed twelve days (including five days prisoner of my own cabin) but I’ve got over it.

I can’t rewind time.

Days don’t stop passing because I want them to.

You

You cannot come back

Even if I desperately want it.

Even if I’d move heaven and earth for you.

Yet, it’s all fiction.

Above the clouds, we found no God.

There’s no heaven or hell. We just dissolve in streams of information. Maybe, some strains remain. Maybe not. Sometimes we are lucky enough that our bits and data remain stuck to our world. Clumps that don’t fade.

If I could meet you for a second, for an instant, that would be enough for me. I just need to know that you are still there, part of the reality matrix, still undeleted for a while. Maybe unconscious. Dead.

Dead, yes.

But, see, if this thing about ROPES is true and that Sanderbach is not a charlatan (huge if), maybe you are there, reading this, on the other side of this four-dimensional space. Maybe, from your point of view, I’m the one who disappeared.

You know, when Nadia saved me from Stratosphere, I was half unconscious… but I thought she was you. I thought you were she. You smelled the same, at least for a little while. It’s like…

It’s like I felt something of you, in her.

Was it

Was it your last gift to Nadia?

Some of your essence? To help her learn how to feel?

I’m too much of an air-headed clumsy dumb head with a big dumber heart and I want to believe that’s the case. I have no evidence, no proof.

But, you see, if that’s the case and

And something of you is now inside her

I can at least smile.

Because you aren’t gone.

Not completely.

I’m not keeping my hopes up, mind me but

this idea gives me peace.

So, if a part of you is really sticking to Nadia

if that part is reading these notes

next time we meet, tell me something weird, like…

“The white rabbit looked better when he was late.”

It doesn’t mean anything but, but… if you say this – if Nadia says it…?

I’ll be the happiest puppy in the world.

Because it means that you aren’t completely gone.

Hoping to hear about a white rabbit,

Sending you a hug from this side of the cold, four-dimensional space that separates us,

Loving you from the bottom of my heart,

Living the new life you gifted me,

Your dumb little wolf sister,

Rebecca