“Lorem, are you going to ring that doorbell or what? We’ve been standing out here for five minutes now,” I asked.

Lorem gulped, raised her hand one more time, and her finger lingered over the doorbell. And then she stopped.

She started to lower her hand again.

“Oh, for the love of…” Emmy said. She leaned forward and pushed the button herself. “There.”

There was a brief – very brief – moment of silence, then Lorem turned on her heel and started walking away. “Oh well they are not home what a shame guess we should go now right?”

Emmy reached out with her hand, grabbed Lorem’s arm, and dragged her back in front of the door. “We called before coming. They’re home. Relax, dear.”

“Honestly, Lorem,” I said. “After all you’ve been through, why does this scare you so much?”

“What…” Lorem began, and then gulped again. “What if they do not like me?”

“They will,” I reassured her.

Emmy put a hand on Lorem’s shoulder. “There’s no way they won’t. You’re an amazing person, dear.”

Lorem seemed about to say something else, but before she could speak the door opened to reveal Millie and Isabela.

“Stephanie!” Millie said, stepping forward and embracing me before stepping back again. “Hi, it’s so good to see you!” She gave me a look, up and down, and smiled widely. “Look at you, you look fantastic!”

I smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Aunt Millie,” I replied.

“And you!” she continued, turning to my sister and clamping her in a tight hug, while I hugged Isabela. “It’s Emmy, right? I was so glad to hear you were alive. You look amazing, too! Actually, you two look very much alike.”

And it was true: after a year and a half of us not looking the same because of my transition, we were twins again; three months earlier, after the peace treaty was signed, I’d gone through the same treatment Emmy had, courtesy of Doctor Winters, and as a result my body finally looked like myself.

Once Millie had released Emmy from her death grip, Isabela stepped forward and shook Emmy’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure, Emmy,” she said. “I have to say, I never thought I’d get to meet you. But life has its ways of surprising you, doesn’t it?”

Emmy laughed. “Yeah, tell me about it. We’ve actually stopped by the cemetery earlier, staring at your own gravestone is a really weird feeling. Nice to meet you, Isabela.”

Then Millie and Isabela turned to Lorem.

“And you must be…” Isabela said.

Lorem froze. “Uh… Actually, I am…” she stammered. “I…”

Emmy took a deep breath, stepped up beside Lorem, and put an arm around her. “Aunt Millie, Aunt Isabela,” she announced. “This is Lorem. Empress of the Repulsoids, and my wife.”

Millie smiled. “Well well well,” she said. “I never expected the Repulsoid Empress to be this… Cute.”

I saw Lorem’s hair rise on the back of her neck, and her tail puff up. “I am not cute,” she said.

“Yes you are, dear,” Emmy said with a smirk. “I keep telling you, even if you don’t believe me.” She turned to me. “She is cute, isn’t she?”

“Oh, sure,” I replied. “When she’s not trying to skewer you with her sword, that is.”

“That only happened a few times,” Lorem protested, glaring at me.

I waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter, it’s all water under the bridge anyway.”

“Well!” Isabela exclaimed. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please, come in. We have a pot of tea brewing, and I hope you like cake, Your Highness.”

“Just call me Lorem, I beg you,” Lorem said. “Titles are a formality I reserve for diplomacy and people I want to intimidate. And we are with family now.” She hesitated. “Are we?”

Millie nodded and smiled. “Of course we are, Lorem,” she said.

Lorem’s relief was palpable, and Emmy punched her in the shoulder. “Told ya,” she said.

“Yes, you did tell me,” Lorem replied. “And I do like cake. What kind is it?”

“Carrot cake,” Isabela said.

“Please, follow me,” Millie said, and they walked back into the house, with us in tow.

 

 

“This cake is delightful,” Lorem said, taking another bite. “Carrot cake, you said?”

Millie nodded. “Yes, old family recipe. Emmy told us over the phone you’re a vegetarian, so I thought it was appropriate.”

“They’re not really vegetarian per se, they’re more like herbivores,” I said. “They absolutely cannot digest meat, it does a number on their stomachs.”

“Really?” Isabela asked. “That’s interesting.”

“And a shame, Emmy told me meat is actually really tasty, but I cannot eat it at all,” Lorem replied, nodding. Then she turned to Millie: “You will have to give me the recipe for this cake.”

“Yeah, so I can make it,” Emmy interjected. “My dear wife is terrible at cooking.”

Lorem huffed. “I am getting better. It has been nearly six weeks since I last set fire to the kitchen.”

“Well, at least she admits it,” Emmy said, and we all laughed.

“Also, this house is lovely,” Lorem said, looking around. “Quite old too, it seems.”

“It is,” I said, nodding. “It was my grandfather’s, and my great-grandfather’s before that.”

“I grew up here, and it passed to me when my parents died. Emmy and Stephanie visited often when they were young,” Millie said. “I got it back a few months ago, Steph basically extorted General Ryder for it.”

I smirked. “Had I known the kind of person he was, I would’ve demanded more before joining up.”

“You were saying you’re no longer in the military, right?” Isabela asked.

I swallowed a mouthful of cake and nodded. “Right. The Defender Squadron has been reorganised, by order of the president. We’re all civilians now, subject to oversight and everything, and we only intervene on request when the situation calls for it,” I replied.

“Yes, unfortunately while most people, both humans and Repulsoids, accepted the peace treaty, there were some who were quite unhappy with how things turned out,” Emmy said. “Repulsoids who wanted to continue the war to the bitter end, and humans who think the Repulsoids got off too easily and want to ‘make them pay’ for the war.” She took a sip of tea and continued, “And somehow, the designs for the morphers got leaked, we’re still trying to find who did it and how, so each faction has its own knock-off Defenders. Not many, fortunately you still need some special materials to make the morphers, so they’re rare. But you can imagine how that’s bad.”

Millie nodded. “We’ve seen the news.”

“It is fine, for the most part, when they fight each other. Even though civilians often get caught in the cross-fire,” Lorem said, nodding back. “But sometimes they specifically attack civilians. And that must be stopped.”

“Yes, so--” I began, but I was cut off by a soft, high-pitched ringing.

“What’s that?” Millie asked.

I sighed. “My morpher,” I said, pulling it out and placing it on the coffee table.

It kept ringing for a few seconds, then Isabela asked, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I replied.

“You probably should answer it,” Lorem said.

I looked at my family, sitting in the living room around the coffee table, and sighed again.

I pressed a button on the morpher.

“Good afternoon, Stephanie! There’s--”

“I’m on vacation, Mae,” I said.

“Yes, I know you’re on vacation, Steph,” Maelyn’s voice answered. “But there’s a hostage situation, somewhere near San Francisco.”

I frowned. “California? That’s new.”

“It is. And these folks are new, too.”

“Who are they?” Emmy asked.

“Oh, hi Emmy! Didn’t know you were there,” Mae replied. “They claim to be the… Hold on, got it written down somewhere… They’re the Allied Front for Rejection of Alien Integration and Demands.”

There was a moment of silence as we parsed the name.

“AFRAID?” I asked.

“Yeah, guess they didn’t think about the acronym, did they? In any case--”

“I’m on vacation,” I protested.

There was a heavy sigh over the line. “Yeah, but you’re the only one who can do it, Steph.”

I sighed. “Can’t Amelia do it? Or Meg, or Amet?”

“The three of them are on oversight duty at the boot camp for new recruits,” Mae said. “You know, in case one of the newbies can’t manage the strength of their suit. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

“Right,” I said. “What about Clyde? Or Eli?”

“Eli still hasn’t been cleared for field duty, his physical is next week. And Clyde…” She took a deep breath. “His aunt’s funeral is today.”

“…Right.” I paused. “Alright. Okay. But I want another vacation day, this one doesn’t count.”

“Consider it done.”

There was a click, and the line went dead.

I looked around at my family. “Well, I better get to it.”

I drained my teacup in a single gulp, stood up, and walked to the middle of the room.

“Want me to come with you?” my sister asked, pulling up her sleeve to show her morpher.

“No, don’t bother,” I replied, shaking my head. “It should be a simple thing, Mae would’ve told us if it wasn’t. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

“Okay. See ya later,” she said.

I moved my hands down to my morpher, and pressed the buttons.

“Welcome. Standby.”

“See ya later,” I nodded.

I flicked the lever.

“Power Up!”

The end.