“-and then that bitch Morgana had the nerve to imply that if I had raised Sariel appropriately this wouldn’t have happened! As if my Sariel was the issue here, not her gutter trash way of raising her own god damned daughter. On the last day of her middle school as well!”

 

Doctor Alexander Rester sighed, rubbing the increasingly creased lines of his forehead as his daughter ranted about the latest incident between Sariel and Aurora. As much as he loved his granddaughter, any way he looked at it, objectively Sariel was in the wrong here.

 

Honestly, using psychokinesis to make the young lady piss herself during an argument? As proud as he was that she had accomplished such a feat, using such an ability on a regular civilian, a local on top of that, was problematic. Even if in his definitely unbiased opinion everything he heard about Aurora indicated that the young lady deserved it.

 

“You didn’t cause a scene, did you?” He asked reluctantly, already afraid of the answer.

 

“Of course not.” His daughter replied indignantly, and for a moment relief washed through him.

 

“Well that’s goo-”

 

“I just did what any good mother would do. I took off my earrings and told her to meet me in the parking lot, and promptly kicked her ass.”

 

He groaned. “Your combat training isn’t meant to be used for beating up women in parking lots, sweetie.”

 

“But dad-”

 

“No buts! And I know Hardin isn’t on either of your sides here, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me. Which should tell you something. If nothing else, that husband of yours has a good head on his shoulders.” He firmly rebutted, and he heard a sigh on the other end of the circlet.

 

“... okay, maybe you’re right. I’ll bake a cake or something. Sorry my family’s better than yours-”

 

“Lexi!”

 

“Fine! Gah! I’ll pay for the medical bills, and apologize.” She grumbled.

 

“Medical bills!?” He shouted, voice climbing an octave.

 

“Nothing serious!” She hurriedly reassured her father, which of course did nothing of the sort. “Just a trip to the local healer. You can’t even tell she was missing any teeth now.”

 

Doctor Rester sighed again, now taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

“Just… promise me this is the last time our family will ever interact with them again.”

 

Alexandra Nesiphero laughed, the tone surprisingly pleasant even if her personality was anything but. To people she didn’t like, at least.

 

“Of course. Sariel is going to be attending the Academy come this fall, so she shouldn’t have any more incidents with non-Gifted or unmutated individuals. Unprovoked, at least.” She said, the pride evident in her voice.

 

“Civilians.” Alexander corrected for what felt like the thousandth time. “The non-problematic term for them is just civilians, sweetheart.”

 

Another laugh. “Oh, right, did you want to talk to her?” Alexandra asked, and the Doctor immediately perked up, his frown dissolving into a smile.

 

“As long as she wants to.” He said.

 

“Of course she does. Sarah, sweetheart, it’s grandpa!”

 

He heard some muffled grumbling as his daughter covered the transceiver on the circlet, before a new voice greeted him as the line was switched between the two devices.

 

“Hey grandpa.” His granddaughter said somewhat reluctantly. He chuckled, having had the experience of being forced to talk with his own grandparents before.

 

“Hello sweet pea. I heard you had another incident with Aurora today.” He began, and heard the shocked gasp and betrayed ‘Mooom’.

 

“Okay, before you get mad, she totally deserved it this time, I swear. She just wouldn’t stop picking on Gas-”

 

“It’s okay Sarah,” he assured her, “I’m not mad. If anything, your mom was the crazy one in this situation.” A laugh came over the device, high and clear.

 

“Oh yeah, she went over the deep end. Grandma had to stop her before she started kicking Aurora’s mom.”

 

Doctor Rester shook his head ruefully. A grown woman, nearly curb stomping another grown woman over a child’s argument. If he didn’t love his daughter so much, he might think she was psychotic. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out who she got it from.

 

“Now, this isn’t a lecture. But remember what me and your dad said about using your abilities on civilians.” He reminded her in what he hoped was a non-lecturing tone.

 

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Aurora mutated, like, a week ago. That’s the only reason she started picking on Gaster, she thought she could take me on.” There was a somehow dignified snort from Sariel.

 

Oh. Well that certainly changed a few things.

 

“In that case, good job sweet pea. Just make sure your father checks on her from afar that it wasn’t permanent. Psionic abilities can still be unpredictable at your age.” He instructed, and heard some sort of displeased but confirmative grunt.

 

“Alright, I won’t take up too much of your time. I love you sweet pea. I’m hanging up now.”

 

“Alright, love you too grandpa. Wait! When are you coming to visit?” She hurriedly asked before he ended the call, and the Doctor paused.

 

“I don’t know. Work has been… busy, lately. But I’ll try to make it to your induction ceremony.” He replied hesitantly.

 

“Okay… bye grandpa, love you!”

 

“Wait, Sariel, transfer the line back to my circlet before-”

 

The call ended with a sad little boop, and the Doctor placed his circlet back on his desk, next to the piles of papers and stacks of various folders that littered it.

 

The contents of them ranged anywhere from life vitals of X1 to budgetary concerns his team had brought him. The stack of reports drew another sigh from him, exhaustion already creeping back into his old bones, but he placed his glasses back on his face and began to settle back into the rhythm of his work.

 

Knock knock knock.

 

Startled, he set down the folder he had just begun to sort through. Pushing out his mind, he saw a figure he recognized just beyond the door.

 

“It’s unlocked!” He called, and the metallic door of his office slowly pushed open to reveal a rather tall, moderately good looking grey-skinned and dark grey haired youth with wire-framed glasses, and the customary white lab coat and badge that read ‘Lab Assistant.’ Gangly limbs carried him into the Doctor’s office as he clutched two full, brown paper bags in one hand, grease spots already staining the bottom, and two thermoses in the other.

 

“Ah, Devon. What brings you in?” The Doctor asked, and Devon flashed him a smile.

 

“Just got back from Jodie’s. I figured you hadn’t eaten yet, so I bought you some food too. Fried ungal, for a full day’s work.” He replied in the trademarked melodic voice all nuans tended to have.

 

The Doctor nodded appreciatively, hunger that he hadn’t even noticed making his stomach rumble as he hurriedly stood and cleared off papers from two padded chairs for them to eat.

 

They both sat down and immediately began eating, paper bags resting in their laps as they devoured their food. Devon wordlessly passed over a thermos, filled to the brim with hot dark coffee, which the Doctor took and sipped from between bites.

 

Food mostly eaten, they both relished the small break they had from their work, their bags set aside and resting on the floor as they cradled their thermoses in their hands.

 

The Doctor inspected Devon and, despite having lived beyond the Rift for decades now, was still fascinated by the distinctly humanoid features of the nuans. Aside from being taller on average than humans, the lengthened limbs and digits of their extremities, the grey skin and differing shades of white to dark blue hair, nearly everything else about a nuan was nearly identical to a human. Which was quite frankly absurd, considering that they weren’t carbon based lifeforms. Very little on Stillera was.

 

“You're doing it again sir.” Devon remarked, snapping him out of his reverie. The Doctor cleared his throat, coughing awkwardly and sipping from his thermos.

 

“Apologies, Devon. And thank you for the food.”

 

Devon only smiled, his gaze wandering over the Doctor’s humble office. The Doctor’s eyes wandered with his, taking in the small space, only 3 meters wide and 4 meters long, when entering from the door. Bookshelves lined the stone walls, packed full with white binders and beige folders. The Doctor’s own desk was a cluttered mess, the very definition of ‘organized chaos’. The two chairs they were sitting on sat opposite of the desk, sharing the space with the rest of the shelves.

 

“Oh, right, I have the audio logs you asked for earlier today.” Devon seemed to recall, and the Doctor nodded.

 

“Much appreciated. Please email them over to me at your earliest convenience.”

 

“Already done.” The youth said, tapping the circlet around his neck, and the Doctor grinned. It had only been two years since Devon was assigned to his team, now the longest remaining member after all the other’s government contracts had expired, and he was proving far more capable than any other he had worked with. As if remembering something, the Doctor spoke.

 

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your thesis coming along? It was based on interactions between mutated vs. developed Cores, if I recall?” He inquired, and Devon shook his head ruefully.

 

“I’ve hit somewhat of a block, sir. I was actually hoping to discuss it with you later, over a couple of drinks if that’s alright.”

 

The Doctor smiled and nodded, while Devon continued. “But for now,” He began, “I wanted to talk about X1. For the first four weeks of its life cycle, its’ progress was somewhat stalled. But over the past several days, its growth has increased explosively. We all know about Hunt’s… insistence about disposing of X1-”

 

This drew a wry chuckle from the Doctor, as he recalled the terror X1 instilled in Mr. Standesh.

 

“-but the rest of the team, save Carl, also have their own concerns about X1. It has a somewhat pavlovian response to us entering its testing grounds, but what happens when it overcomes its instinctive fear of us? When we start looking like its next source of biomass? I care about X1, Doctor, you know I do, which is why I’m suggesting we release it to the closest Rift instead of purging it. I worry that any fu-”

The Doctor held up a hand, stopping Devon from continuing.

 

“Devon, what category would you place X1 in?” He inquired, causing Devon to frown thoughtfully.

 

“Well… with its obvious shapeshifting ability, I’d mark it as a category one.” He ventured, and the Doctor nodded. He twisted around in his seat, searching through one of the folders on his desk until he pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it over to Devon.

 

Devon inspected it for a moment, his eyes growing wider and wider until he let out a shocked gasp.

 

“4.3 debicules of existence!?” He exclaimed. “Psionic pressure of 1.3 astrobules!?” He looked up at the Doctor, who nodded somewhat… smugly.

 

“Those results were taken during its last physical examination.” He explained, reaching out and grabbing the sheet out of Devon’s hands, placing it back in its folder.

 

“But sir, that shouldn’t be possible!”

 

Again, the Doctor nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. “Indeed, it shouldn’t be. But it is. Those tests were run three times, 30 minutes apart from each other. The first time, its debicules tested for 4.22999. The second time, 4.229 repeating. And the third, 4.3. X1’s psionic pressure had a much lower increase, but still observable within the .00001 range. What does this tell you?”

 

Devon shook his head, disbelief painted across his expression. “But sir, X1 hasn’t displayed any characteristics of a category 2, much less a category 4!”

 

“Yet.” The Doctor corrected. “X1 hasn’t displayed them yet.” He suddenly leaned forwards, a manic fervor flashing through his eyes, causing Devon to flinch back. Passive psionic pressure weighed down on Devon’s mind, slowing down his thinking. “You surely must have an idea what the implications of this are. A growing entity. Possibly a category 6, if it does begin to display those characteristics. A possible growth class 2, category 6 entity that we control! Not only is this a possible solution to the Rifts, X1 could solve most modern science problems. I’m now somewhat regretful that we gimped its ability to grow a brain. If we hadn’t, Devon? What then? X1 could have propelled us forwards decades, no, centuries!”

 

Devon leaned back, having forgotten the Doctor’s… intensity. But still… hope flared through him. If X1 really could be what those numbers indicated…

 

“LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN!” A voice blared through the intercom, causing both of them to jump. They looked up wildly at the intercom system located in the corner of the Doctor’s office. “SECURITY BREACH IN LAB THREE! CLASS 3, CATEGORY 4 RIFT ENTITY HAS ESCAPED FROM ITS HOLDING CELL! LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN!”

 

The Doctor and Devon both looked at each other, surprise and mirth in their expressions.

 

“Lab three again? This is the second time in three months.” The Doctor laughed wryly, shaking his head, the manic light in his eyes already fading. “And they say they’re the only competent team. Devon, get the door, would y-”

 

“EVACUATE! EVACUATE! EVACUATE! SECURITY BREACH IN LAB THREE! CLASS 7, CATEGORY 6 RIFT ENTITY HAS BEEN SIGHTED IN LAB THREE! TERMINATE ALL TEST SUBJECTS WITHIN THE NEXT TWO MINUTES! EVACUATE, EVACUATE, EVACUATE!”

 

Devon and the Doctor both looked at each other again, but this time with stark terror.

 

“My God.” The Doctor whispered.

 

And then they both exploded upwards, running for the door.