####################
# REWRITE NOTICE #
####################
[This chapter is part of the rewrite batch released on March 3rd, 2025]
- For more information: See chapter titled "Update - Rewrite Status (1-6): Complete"
- All rewritten chapters contain this notice at the top
———————————————
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
- William Shakespeare
———————————————
Himeko led Xander through the corridors of the Astral Express, her steps light despite the weight of responsibility she now carried. The decision to welcome this mysterious man aboard hadn't been made lightly—God knows Welt had argued against it until the last minute—but after their discussion at the docking bay, she felt confident they'd made the right choice. Usually.
"The Astral Express was created by Akivili, the Aeon of the Trailblaze, to transport them and the Nameless across the galaxy," Himeko explained, watching Xander's face carefully for any reaction. His expression remained frustratingly neutral, though his eyes moved attentively, taking in every detail like he was memorizing escape routes. "Legends claim that Akivili's heart powers the Express' core, although I've found no evidence to support that claim."
As they entered the main lounge area, Himeko felt a familiar surge of pride swell in her chest. No matter how many times she walked through this space—had it been three years already?—the grandeur never failed to impress her. The dark walls and ceilings were illuminated by tiered lighting fixtures, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the room. Red, curved couches were arranged in seating areas on either side of a central walkway, inviting passengers to relax and socialize. The flooring, a light-colored, reflective material that resembled marble but wasn't quite, added to the luxurious ambiance while hiding the countless battle scars from their adventures.
She continued her explanation as they walked, noting how Xander's gaze swept methodically across the lounge, analyzing rather than admiring. It reminded her of how Welt had initially approached the Express—with scientific curiosity rather than wonder. Always looking for the flaws in the design, the weaknesses, the potential problems.
"Shortly after the fall of their Aeon, a loyal group of Nameless took Akivili's trailblazing legacy upon themselves." She paused to straighten a cushion that was slightly out of place—a habit March teased her about constantly. "However, the star rail became overly obstructed as Stellarons began spreading across the galaxy, preventing the Express from running. It eventually fell into disrepair and was abandoned."
She paused, unable to keep the hint of pride from her voice. "Sometime later, the Astral Express crash-landed onto my home planet, where I discovered it." Though "discovered" was putting it mildly—the damn thing had practically crashed on top of her grandmother's garden. "I successfully repaired the train after many years and began retracing Akivili's steps through the universe."
Xander nodded, his expression shifting briefly into something that might have been respect. "That's impressive," he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent of something Himeko couldn't quite identify. Not quite skepticism, but a certain detachment, like someone complimenting a painting they didn't particularly like.
It struck her that despite his agreement to join them, he remained guarded, keeping a careful distance between himself and the reality of his situation. Given what Herta had told her about his memory alteration, perhaps that was to be expected. Trust would come with time, if at all. She'd seen it before with Dan Heng, who'd spent his first month aboard speaking no more than ten words a day.
As they approached the far end of the lounge, Himeko gestured towards a doorway with a flourish that made her bracelet jingle. "I think you'll appreciate the cafe on the rear side of the Express," she said with a smile. "It's a great place to unwind and—"
She stopped, noticing that Xander had fallen a few steps behind. He stood near one of the large windows, his gaze fixed on the breathtaking view of the cosmos beyond. Stars twinkled against the inky blackness of space, and distant galaxies swirled in a mesmerizing dance of light and color. His hand was raised, almost touching the glass, before falling back to his side.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Himeko asked, her voice soft with understanding. The first time she had seen this view, she'd been speechless for nearly an hour, much to her grandmother's amusement.
"It is impressive," Xander replied, a tad of bitterness creeping into his tone. "Although..."
He trailed off, his expression clouding over like a storm rolling across open water. Himeko watched as something like conflict played across his features—appreciation for the beauty before him warring with some deeper emotion she couldn't name. For a moment, she wondered if he was remembering something from his past, some fragment of memory triggered by the vastness of space.
She recalled his words from their earlier conversation: "Freedom is relative when you're carrying a Stellaron that half the cosmos wants to either study or destroy." Despite his agreement to their terms, his bitterness about his limited options had been clear as crystal. Perhaps that was what she was seeing now—a man trapped by circumstances beyond his control, unable to fully appreciate the wonder around him because of the burden he carried.
Xander sighed, tearing his gaze away from the window and turning to face her. "I apologize," he said, his expression smoothing into careful neutrality once more. "I got lost in thought for a moment there. You were saying something about a cafe?"
Himeko studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his shoulders and the careful way he avoided meeting her eyes directly. Despite his attempt at composure, there was an unmistakable weariness about him, as if he were carrying a weight far heavier than just the Stellaron within his body.
"Is everything alright, Xander?" she asked gently, genuinely concerned. March's words echoed in her mind—"I know what it's like to wake up without knowing who you are or where you came from." If his experience was anything like March's, his disorientation must be profound. Like waking up from a dream only to find yourself in another one.
Xander hesitated, something vulnerable flickering across his face before disappearing behind a carefully constructed mask. There was clearly so much more he wanted to say, thoughts he was wrestling with, but whatever internal debate he was having resulted in him closing himself off once more.
"I'm fine," he said finally, forcing a small smile that didn't reach his eyes—didn't even come close. "I think I could really use a cup of coffee right now. I'm a bit of a harsh critic when it comes to it, so I'm curious to see how yours measures up."
Himeko grinned, recognizing the deliberate change of subject but choosing not to press the issue. Building trust would take time, and forcing confidences would only push him further away. Instead, she decided to engage with his challenge, letting a hint of mischief sparkle in her eyes.
"Oh, a harsh critic, huh? Well, challenge accepted!" She placed her hands on her hips, striking a pose that made her look more confident than she felt about her coffee-making skills. "I'll have you know that while I'm better at making tea, my coffee is still pretty magnificent. Prepare to be impressed!"
As they made their way towards the cafe, Himeko observed Xander's continued distraction. His eyes were focused somewhere far away, his thoughts clearly not on their conversation or even their surroundings. She wondered what memories were surfacing—or perhaps what he was trying to prevent himself from remembering.
Welt's unusual interest in whether Xander recognized "Earth" came to mind. She'd never heard Welt mention that particular world before, though she knew his own origins were somewhat shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he had recognized something in Xander that resonated with his own experiences, some hint of displacement that went beyond simple memory loss.
She made a mental note to speak with Welt privately later. If anyone could understand what it meant to be truly out of place in the universe, it would be him. That man had secrets wrapped in enigmas, but his insight could be invaluable.
Himeko continued to chatter about her coffee-making skills as they approached the end of the lounge area, partly to fill the silence and partly to give Xander space to process whatever internal battle he was fighting. Just as they were about to exit, a familiar voice called out, stopping them in their tracks.
"Himeko! Are you and the crew ready to depart?"
Turning, Himeko spotted Pom-Pom approaching with purposeful short strides, their blue and white form bobbing slightly with each step. She smiled warmly at the Express's conductor, but her attention quickly shifted to Xander's reaction.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he seemed momentarily frozen, staring at Pom-Pom with undisguised shock. It was the most genuine reaction she'd seen from him since they'd begun the tour—a crack in his carefully maintained composure. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, like he was searching for words and finding none.
"Hey there, Pom-Pom! We'll be ready as soon as the rest of the crew is situated," Himeko replied, watching the interaction with interest. "I'm just finishing up the tour for our newest member, Xander." She gestured towards him, and Pom-Pom's gaze settled on his face, studying him intently.
Xander shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. His reaction struck Himeko as curious—surely he must have encountered non-human species before? Unless his memory loss was so extensive that even basic knowledge of the cosmos had been affected.
"Is this your first time seeing someone that isn't human, Xander?" she asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement from her voice. His discomfort was oddly endearing, a glimpse of genuine emotion beneath the guarded exterior.
Xander nodded mutely, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from Pom-Pom. The conductor finally spoke, their voice soft and reassuring. "My name is Pom-Pom, and I'm the conductor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Xander. Come find me if you have any trouble."
Himeko watched as Xander visibly pulled himself together, straightening his posture and finding his voice. "Uh, yeah, likewise. Just call me Xander. I guess I'll be in your care from now on." He hesitated, then added with surprising formality: "Thank you for your service."
The formality of his response, combined with his earlier shock, struck Himeko as another piece of the puzzle that was their newest crew member. If he was truly unfamiliar with non-human species, where had he come from? What isolated world could produce someone with his combat skills and apparent technological knowledge, yet leave him startled at the sight of Pom-Pom?
As Pom-Pom walked away, leaving Xander looking slightly dazed, Himeko couldn't resist teasing him gently. "Look at that, flustered much?" She asked, nudging him with her elbow.
Xander scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't get used to it," he muttered, though Himeko caught the slight relaxation in his shoulders, the momentary easing of the tension that had defined him since his arrival. For just a second, he seemed more like a normal person and less like a coiled spring ready to snap.
It was a small victory, but one Himeko would take. As they continued toward the cafe, she found herself unexpectedly optimistic about their new crew member. Beneath the guarded exterior and bitter practicality of his decision to join them, she sensed something genuine—a person worth knowing, if he would ever allow them close enough to truly see him.
Whether he had been pushed aboard the Express by circumstance rather than choice, Himeko was determined to make the Astral Express feel like home to him, as it had for her and the rest of her found family. After all, the Nameless had been giving second chances to lost souls for generations.
Why should Xander be any different?
———————————————
It hadn't been over 24 hours since Xander had woken up in this nightmare, and he was already feeling as if his mind might tear itself apart. Not gradually, not cleanly, but with the jagged violence of something ripped beyond repair.
He shut the door to his room on the Astral Express with more force than necessary, wincing at the sound. His posture slumped as he leaned his forehead against the cool metal surface. His hands were shaking—had been shaking since the incident with Herta—and no amount of clenching them into fists seemed to make the tremors stop. They just kept going, like an engine that wouldn't turn off.
Himeko had just finished giving him a tour, vowing to impress him with her next cup of coffee. It had been average, as he'd expected—weak in the middle, bitter at the end—but smiling politely and making small talk had required every ounce of self-control he possessed. The entire time, he'd been fighting the crawling sensation beneath his skin, the feeling that something alien was moving inside him, waiting to emerge again.
"That was..." Xander's voice failed him as he tried to find words for what had happened back in the Space Station. What could you even call it? A possession? An awakening? Terror washed over him in a fresh wave as he recalled the moment. One second, he'd been shouting at a Herta doll, his frustration and fear boiling over after everything he'd been through. The next, The Herta herself had appeared, and before he could even process what was happening, ice had formed around him, trapping him.
Then... something else had taken control.
Xander squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead harder against the door, trying to block out the memory of feeling himself fade into the background of his own consciousness. Something inside him had risen to the surface—something ancient and powerful that spoke through his mouth with words he'd never heard before, carrying a confidence he couldn't hope to match. The entity had negotiated with Herta as an equal, maybe even as a superior, revealing knowledge about Nous and the Simulated Universe project that Xander had no way of knowing.
And through it all, he'd been forced to watch, a passenger in his own body, screaming silently as this thing used him like a puppet.
What the hell is wrong with me?
A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, droplets sliding down his temple. Was he losing his mind? Possessed? Or was this somehow connected to the Stellaron they claimed was sealed inside him? Was that even real, or just another part of this elaborate hallucination?
Xander pushed away from the door, his legs unsteady as he began pacing the spartan room. Three steps one way, four the other—the walls felt like they were closing in. His thoughts churned like storm-tossed waves. Everything felt wrong—this world, this body, this reality. He'd been plucked from his life and thrust into some cosmic nightmare, and now something else was sharing space in his head.
You are much more than you realize, a voice whispered from somewhere deep inside him. It wasn't his own internal monologue—this voice had texture, a honeyed quality that both repulsed and attracted him. Like the voice of an old friend who'd betrayed you once but knew all your secrets. Why resist what you could become?
"Shut up," Xander hissed, pressing the heels of his palms against his temples. "Just shut the fuck up." The voice—the Stellaron, it had to be—fell silent, but he could still feel its presence, watching, waiting. Patient in a way that only immortal things can be.
Every time he tried to recall the details of the "game" he remembered playing—Honkai: Star Rail—a blinding headache would strike. He knew March was supposed to have been discovered frozen in some kind of special ice, but when he tried to remember more specific details, his mind filled with swirling colors and pain. Like someone had taken a highlighter and blacked out the important parts. And whenever he attempted to recall what happened after his accident on the motorcycle, all he got was a blank and that single, frustrating command:
Survive.
I can help you fulfill that command, the honeyed voice whispered again, softer this time, almost compassionate. Let me in, and together we will do more than survive. We will conquer.
Xander was trapped in an unfamiliar universe, alone and without a guide. He didn't have a place to call home. He didn't have anyone he could trust. The people around him weren't even real—they were honest-to-God video game characters. Pixels and programming that somehow had flesh and blood and smiles that seemed too genuine to be fake.
He couldn't continue thinking as he normally would, seeing things through his real-world-filtered lens. He needed to get practical and pragmatic, plan the next twenty moves, then execute the next thirty to a hundred at a run. Like chess, except the board kept changing and half the pieces weren't what they seemed.
There was no other choice.
His pacing grew more agitated as his thoughts raced, hand raking through his hair again and again. The Astral Express crew saw him as a helpless victim engulfed in this Stellaron mess. They didn't know the truth: he was a man out of time and place, and he'd do anything to return home.
Even if it means going along with their hero's quest for now.
Xander had watched the security footage from the battle with the Doomsday Beast. He'd seen the golden light burst from his chest, witnessed his body move with a grace and power he'd never possessed before. Another moment where his body hadn't seemed entirely his own.
And wasn't that another can of fucking worms?
There had been no trace of the original Trailblazer on the station. No mentions, no records, nothing. Now he seemed to have been stuck with the Stellaron that was supposed to be for them, carrying the burden of playing the protagonist in a story he'd once believed was just a game. A sick cosmic joke.
You speak as if you are trapped, but you have been liberated, the honeyed voice whispered again, curling around his thoughts like smoke. The limitations of your former existence have been stripped away. You have been chosen for greatness.
"Fuck off," Xander muttered through clenched teeth, but the words lacked conviction. As terrifying as his situation was, he had one advantage—his arrangement with Herta had given him access to the Simulated Universe. A potential key to understanding this reality, even if it was just a reflection.
He had planned to suggest becoming her guinea pig for the Simulated Universe project, hoping to "steal" her idea when in reality it was her plan all along. He'd wanted to appear more valuable than just a specimen to analyze in a petri dish. Instead, he'd been encased in ice, and that... presence... had taken over, negotiating terms he couldn't even fully recall. Pieces missing, like trying to remember a dream hours after waking.
The simulation is but a pale imitation of true power, the voice said, almost amused. I could show you so much more.
A sudden wave of nausea hit him, acid churning in his stomach, and Xander staggered to the small bathroom attached to his quarters, barely making it in time before his stomach emptied itself. Gasping, he gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, dark circles forming under his eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of gold in his irises, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure it wasn't his imagination. Just like those shapes you think you see in the dark.
Poor, fragile vessel, the voice cooed. Let me help you. Let me in.
"Never," Xander rasped, splashing cold water on his face, droplets clinging to his eyelashes. He returned to the main room, hands still trembling slightly.
If the simulation worked the way he thought it worked, he could use it to prepare himself. His body seemed to have memories of combat he couldn't consciously recall—muscle memory that had kicked in during moments of danger. The footage showed him moving with a precision and skill that made no sense given his background. Where had that come from? Was it connected to the presence that had taken over when facing Herta?
He needed information. He needed to know everything there was to know about how the world worked, about the Aeons and the Stellarons and whatever other cosmic fuckery was at play here. Knowledge was power, and right now, he felt powerless.
And he needed allies, or at least people he could work with to achieve his goals. People who wouldn't ask too many questions.
Herta was, being honest, the best possible start. Rich, with an established presence across the universe, and well-connected to boot. The actual Herta was as brilliant as she was arrogant, and he could see the hunger in her eyes when she looked at him—that cold, clinical fascination. She wanted to study the Stellaron inside him, unravel its secrets. That arrangement could work for both of them.
If he could trust himself to maintain control when he was around her. The memory of the ice closing around him, of losing control to that other presence, made his skin crawl. What if it happened again? What if next time was worse?
The Astral Express crew was trickier. They were, by all accounts, the good guys. The heroes of the story. But he couldn't afford to trust them, not fully. They didn't know the truth about him and where he came from. If he revealed too much and somehow derailed the story from its original course just a little bit, he risked losing his only lead back home.
Kafka.
The name echoed in his mind like a lifeline. In the game, she brought the Trailblazer to the Herta Space Station. If anyone had answers about how he got here and why, it was her. The puppet master pulling strings from the shadows.
But finding Kafka wouldn't be easy. The Stellaron Hunters were elusive at best. He bet he couldn't find them even with Herta's resources—like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Thus, his win condition was to ensure the story unfolded as it was meant to, meaning…
He would have to play the role of Caelus until their paths crossed. He was so royally fucked. So completely, utterly fucked.
Putting that massive fact aside, getting intel out from Kafka would be a challenge. She was skilled, dangerous, unpredictable. Subduing her alone would be a monumental task. Doing it while she was in the company of other Stellaron Hunters like Blade or Silver Wolf? Near impossible. Like trying to kidnap a lion from a pride.
You underestimate what we can accomplish together, the voice whispered, sending a chill down his spine. Their power is nothing compared to what you could wield if you would only surrender to me.
Xander's hand drifted to the inner pocket of his coat, fingers brushing against the cool metal of his cross pendant. He pulled it out, holding it up to the light, desperate for some connection to his old life, to the faith that had once grounded him. It felt smaller somehow, insignificant against the vastness of what he now faced.
"What's your role in all of this?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "Am I just another Job? Are you testing me? Am I just imagining all of this?" He waited, as if expecting an answer that deep down he knew wouldn't come.
The pendant remained silent, offering no divine insight or comfort.
Your god cannot hear you across the boundaries of reality, the voice said with what almost sounded like pity. But I am here. I am real. I can give you what you seek.
Xander scoffed, shaking his head, ignoring the whisper. "I hope you're having a good laugh out of this," he muttered, pocketing the cross again, unsure if he was addressing God or the universe itself. His fingers lingered on the pendant a moment longer than necessary.
He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needed to focus on the here and now. Glancing around the room, he took in the sparse furnishings. A bed with sheets too perfectly made, a desk with nothing on it, a chair pushed in at a precise angle. It wasn't much, but it was his. For now, at least.
Xander sat at the desk, pulled out a notebook and pen from his coat's inner pockets, and began writing down names and mapping out diagrams. His hand shook as he wrote, making the lines wobble, but the act of putting thoughts to paper helped stabilize him somewhat. Making the intangible tangible.
For now, it was time to make plans. When the time came, he'd face Kafka and the Stellaron Hunters head-on. And somehow, he'd find his way home.
And together, we will reshape this reality to our liking, the voice promised, a whisper like silk against his thoughts.
Xander pretended not to hear it, but even as he worked, he couldn't shake the terrifying suspicion that part of him—a growing part—was tempted to listen.
———————————————
March 7th spotted Xander sitting alone on one of the couches in the lounge area, hunched over a notebook. His brow was furrowed in concentration as his pen moved across the page, filling it with what looked like strange symbols and diagrams. He'd only been aboard the Astral Express for a few hours, but already he seemed to be isolating himself from the rest of them—building walls before he'd even unpacked his things.
That wouldn't do at all, she decided. No one should be alone, especially someone who was clearly as lost and confused as he was. She knew that feeling too well.
March bounded across the lounge, her camera bouncing against her hip with each step. She approached quietly—well, as quietly as she could manage, which wasn't very—hoping to see what he was writing before he noticed her. The strange markings looked like some kind of language, but not one she recognized. Was it code? Or maybe a language from his homeworld? Either way, it looked important, the way he hunched over it protectively.
She plopped down beside him without warning, the couch cushion dipping under her weight, unable to contain her cheerful grin. "Hi, Xander! Whatcha doing?"
He startled slightly, his body tensing as if bracing for an attack before he seemed to register who she was. An odd mix of emotions flickered across his face—irritation, wariness, and maybe a hint of fear?—before settling into a carefully neutral expression. His pen had made a jagged mark across the page when she surprised him.
"Just writing down key memories," he replied, his voice measured as he subtly shifted the notebook away from her view. "I've forgotten some things from my life after I woke up on the Herta Space Station. I want to make sure I don't forget anything else."
March's heart swelled with empathy. Of course—he was dealing with memory loss too! She understood that feeling all too well, the desperate grasping at fragments that might slip away.
"That's a great idea!" she exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly, her hair falling across her face before she pushed it back. "I wish I could do the same, but..." Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly as the familiar ache of her own situation settled in her chest. "I don't remember anything from my past life. Nothing at all. Not even a flicker."
Xander's gaze sharpened, his eyes focusing on her with a strange intensity that made her skin prickle. "Nothing? Not even snippets?"
March shook her head, absently fiddling with the strap of her camera—a nervous habit she'd developed somewhere along the way. Talking about her past—or lack thereof—always made her feel vulnerable, but maybe sharing would help him feel less alone. That's what Himeko had taught her—sometimes your pain can help others.
"When I first woke up after being rescued from the ice, I could see clusters of stars in front of me," she said softly, remembering the disorienting moment with perfect clarity. "I reached out for them automatically, but they turned out to be carriage ceiling lights."
She laughed, though the sound was tinged with embarrassment. "The whole crew was watching me—it was pretty embarrassing. They looked at me like I was some kind of weird alien! I don't really blame them for being curious though. They had no idea where I came from."
March leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting to the stars outside the window—real stars, not ceiling lights. "You might not believe it, but before all this, I was stuck in a huge block of ice drifting through space. Just... floating. For who knows how long."
The memory of her awakening was vivid, though everything before it remained frustratingly blank. "Himeko and Mr. Yang and... who was it again? Dan Heng, I think? Anyway, they figured out a way to melt the ice and saved me. Who I am, where I'm from, my name... it's like everything was erased from my mind. 'March 7th' was the day they found me, so it stuck." She tapped her fingers against her knee, a rhythm only she understood.
She turned back to Xander, her smile returning despite the melancholy topic. "Ever since then, I've been hanging out on this train and following it to whatever destination it decides to stop at. I'm hoping that one day, I can find my past. Or at least... understand why I forgot it."
Xander closed his notebook, tucking it away with what seemed like excessive care. As he turned toward her, March noticed how tightly he was gripping the armrest, his knuckles almost white. Was he feeling unwell? Or was it just the topic of their conversation making him uncomfortable? He looked like someone trying very hard to appear normal.
"I'm sorry to hear about your memory loss," he said, his voice neutral. "It must be tough not knowing who you are or where you come from."
March nodded, grateful for his understanding even if his tone seemed a bit detached, like he was reading from a script. "It is," she agreed. "But having friends helps. I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to bring down the mood." She wrinkled her nose. "I can be a bit of a downer sometimes."
She couldn't help herself—curiosity had always been her weakness. She leaned forward, trying to catch another glimpse of his notebook. "What about you, Xander? What kind of things have you been remembering and jotting down in there? Maybe I could help somehow."
Something dark flickered across his face as he abruptly shoved the notebook into his pocket. "Oh, you know," he said with forced casualness, "just little things here and there. Like your nose, for example."
March blinked, confusion washing over her. "My nose?"
"Yes, your nose," he said, his expression suddenly serious, a coldness entering his voice. "It was in my business again. Kindly mind yours, March."
The words hit like a splash of cold water. March's mouth opened and closed, a hurt feeling spreading through her chest. She'd only been trying to help, to connect with him. Why was he being so... mean? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, buying herself a moment to recover.
Before she could formulate a response, Pom-Pom's voice echoed through the lounge, providing a welcome distraction.
"Attention all passengers," the conductor announced, "the Astral Express has reached a safe distance from the Herta Space Station. We'll be jumping to our next destination in approximately 2 to 3 minutes. Miss March 7th, please remain seated, as the ride may get a bit bumpy. Thank you."
March rolled her eyes, grateful for the chance to shift her focus away from Xander's harsh words. "Um... thanks, Pom-Pom. But did you really have to remind me? I'm not a newbie, you know..." She was getting better at the jumps. Sort of.
"Well, it wouldn't be necessary, but Miss March 7th likes to challenge herself... and falls over every time," Pom-Pom replied, their voice deadpan.
March grinned, feeling her spirits lift despite herself. "That's just called never giving up! Hehe!"
As Pom-Pom's voice cut out, March turned back to Xander, determined not to let his coldness deter her. Something was clearly bothering him—the way his eyes kept darting around the room, how his leg bounced nervously, the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He reminded her of a cornered animal, defensive and afraid. She recognized that look—she'd worn it herself those first days after thawing.
"I'm sorry, Xander," she said gently. "I didn't mean to be 'nosy', no pun intended, about your personal life. I just wanted to... you know, help." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "It's what friends do."
His expression softened fractionally, though the tension in his body remained. "It's fine," he said, waving off her apology. "Just... stay seated, okay? We don't want you falling over, like Pom-Pom said."
March felt a spark of determination ignite inside her. She'd been trying for months to maintain her balance during jumps, and she wasn't about to give up now. Each failure was just another step toward eventual success—that's what Himeko always told her.
"Nuh-uh," she declared, leaping to her feet and planting herself in the middle of the lounge. She closed her eyes, bracing her knees as she began to chant under her breath. "I won't fall down, I won't fall down, I won't fall down..." If she believed it hard enough, maybe physics would listen.
"Hello? Hello? Hello? All passengers, please return to your seats," Pom-Pom announced, their voice crackling over the speakers once more. "The train is about to make the jump. Hold on, everyone."
March opened one eye to peek at Xander. He had leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, but his white-knuckled grip on the armrests betrayed his anxiety. Poor guy—first jumps could be scary. She'd have to remember to check on him after the transition. Maybe he'd be less grumpy after they reached their destination.
"Five, four, three..." Pom-Pom counted down.
March felt the familiar acceleration of the Express, the ethereal blue flames that always accompanied a jump reflecting in the windows. Her hair ruffled with the sudden increase in speed, and she doubled down on her concentration, determined to stay upright this time. She could do this!
"Two, one..."
The universe seemed to stretch and contract all at once, a sensation that never failed to fill March with awe despite its disorienting effects. For a split second, she thought she might actually succeed...
...until the recoil hit, and she found herself sprawled inelegantly on the floor, elbow smarting where she'd banged it.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, rubbing her backside as she sat up, blowing hair out of her face. "Next time, I'll finally get it! I was so close!"
She looked up to see Xander already on his feet, moving toward the window with a strange urgency, as if drawn by something outside. His earlier standoffishness forgotten, March scrambled up to join him, gasping in wonder at the sight that greeted them.
A massive planet filled the viewport, its surface gleaming with ice and snow under the pale light of distant stars. It was hauntingly beautiful, like a giant pearl floating in the endless void of space.
"Wow," she breathed, pressing her hands against the cool glass. "It's so pretty! Like a big snowball!"
Himeko joined them, her expression more somber as she took in the frozen world below. "After all those millennia..." she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of awe and sadness. "Is this what Jarilo-VI has become?"
March turned to her, curiosity piqued. "Huh? So that snowy planet is our destination this time?"
Himeko nodded, raising a hand to her mouth as she studied the icy sphere. "Yes... Looks like this trailblazing expedition won't be easy." She sighed, the way she always did when anticipating trouble.
"Spatial readout anomaly!" Pom-Pom announced, appearing behind them with surprising stealth. March noticed Xander jump at the conductor's sudden arrival, his hand twitching toward his hip as if reaching for a weapon before he caught himself. "Star rail stability is down to 12%. Schedule alteration: Seven-day stopover time extended indefinitely."
"Anomaly?" March asked, her brow furrowing with concern. That didn't sound good. Indefinitely meant... a long time.
Himeko stepped forward, her expression serious. "The complex locality of this world has been... affected somehow. The star rail has been blocked off by something." She paused, searching for the right words, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Take an ordinary train as an example: It's like the tracks up ahead have suddenly snapped, and the way forward leads straight into a collapsing abyss... The only sensible thing to do would be to brake hard, right?"
Pom-Pom bobbed in agreement. "If we try to force our way ahead, there could be a hefty price to pay."
March sighed, her shoulders slumping as understanding dawned. "This again... Don't tell me, it's gotta be..."
"A Stellaron," Xander cut in, his voice tight. "What else could it be?"
March glanced at him, surprised by both his knowledge and the tension evident in his jaw. For someone who claimed to have lost his memories, he seemed remarkably well-informed about certain things. Or maybe he was just good at making logical leaps?
"Right on the money," Welt confirmed, joining their growing circle by the window, the light glinting off his glasses. "The results of the preliminary analysis are here. The anomaly stems from, as Xander kindly put it, a Stellaron."
Himeko offered Xander a reassuring nod. "Don't worry, Xander. It's not the first time our route has been obstructed by a Stellaron. While we don't fully understand them, at least we know how to neutralize their influences."
Welt adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowed in thought. "There must be an inextricable connection between the Stellaron we're dealing with here, and Jarilo-VI becoming a frozen planet."
"Our current theory is that Stellarons are seeds of disaster planted by a certain Aeon throughout the universe," Himeko continued, her voice firm. "We can't continue to trailblaze without removing the source of the disaster."
"Nanook," Xander said, the name slipping from his lips with a certainty that made March stare at him in surprise.
Himeko blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Correct," she said, tilting her head. "How did you personally come to that conclusion, though?"
March watched as Xander shrugged, attempting to appear casual despite the slight tremor in his hands that she doubted the others had noticed. His fingers kept twitching toward his pocket where he'd stored the notebook.
"It's easy to paint the picture when you have context over Aeons as a whole and at least understand the basics of their Paths. Nanook's whole schtick is the destruction of the universe," he explained, his tone carefully measured, like a student reciting memorized facts. "If you are aware of how Stellarons appear throughout the cosmos at random and know the things they cause, it's relatively logical to assume something must be behind them, Aeons right at the top of the list of potential culprits. Nanook is the most obvious one because, again, destruction."
March's eyes widened as she listened. There was something strange about the way he spoke—like he was reciting facts from a textbook rather than sharing personal knowledge. And those brief moments where his mask slipped, revealing flashes of panic or confusion...
Something wasn't adding up about their newest crew member, but March couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
Himeko nodded thoughtfully. "Xander, I'd like to entrust this trailblazing expedition to March, Dan Heng, and you. The objective is clear: Find the Stellaron responsible for the disaster and the spatial distortions, and bring it back to the Express. Welt and I will deal with the rest."
Her expression softened as she continued, placing a hand on Xander's shoulder. "By helping us, it's possible you'll find more information on the Stellaron residing within you. While you're down there, I promise to look up information about your homeworld. I have some contacts I can call who could help us track down its location. Be sure to leave me a text message with any information that could be of help."
Xander nodded silently, his gaze distant, as if seeing something beyond the frozen planet in front of them.
March raised her hand, bouncing slightly on her toes, a question forming on her lips. "Why aren't you joining us on the expedition, Miss Himeko? You always have the best ideas when things go sideways."
Himeko smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Someone has to stay on the train, or Pom-Pom will get lonely. Not to mention, Nanook threw us a glance just now. If we're targeted by the Antimatter Legion, then things could go south fast."
March nodded, understanding the logic even if she was a bit disappointed. Missions were always more fun when Himeko came along. She had a knack for finding the right path forward, even in the most confusing situations.
"Xander, March, if you two are ready, why not go and find Dan Heng?" Welt suggested, clearing his throat. "He's probably already started collating the ecological data and survey results for Jarilo-VI."
March could tell from the way Welt glanced at Himeko that he wanted to speak with her privately. Xander seemed to pick up on it too, turning toward the door.
"Come on, March. Let's go find our lance," he said, his voice oddly formal.
March hurried after him, pleasantly surprised by the "our lance" comment. Maybe he was warming up to them after all! She liked the idea of them being a team.
As luck would have it, Dan Heng was just entering the lounge, his ever-present lance strapped to his back. March gave him a cheerful wave as they approached, nearly tripping over her own feet in her enthusiasm.
"Are you doing okay after your first jump?" Dan asked Xander, his expression neutral as always. "Dizziness or retching are normal reactions. You'll feel better once you get used to it."
"I feel fine," Xander replied with a shrug. "Wasn't that bad."
Dan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "So you have high compatibility with the Express. That's good."
March noticed Xander flinch at the statement, though Dan didn't seem to catch it as he continued explaining his findings.
"I went through the Express's database, and it seems the environment of Jarilo-VI has undergone drastic changes in the past few centuries. It was not a frozen planet to begin with..." He paused, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face.
"Mr. Yang said it was caused by a Stellaron," March interjected, eager to share what she'd learned. She still felt a flutter of pride whenever she could contribute information.
"He said so? Hmm..." Dan considered this information. "Considering the spatial obstacle that the star rail has encountered, it's highly possible."
He paused, his expression thoughtful. "I've conducted a preliminary survey and found that there's one area with relatively normal temperature on the surface of the planet. By 'normal,' I mean a temperature that just about allows for human survival. If I had to choose a site for the initial investigation, that would be it."
"Any other additional data you've glimpsed from your analysis?" Xander asked, his posture tense, fingers drumming against his thigh.
Dan shook his head. "Beyond more general information about the ecology and geography of the planet, not much else. The records are surprisingly sparse."
Excitement bubbled up in March's chest. A new planet to explore! New sights to photograph! New mysteries to solve! She bounced on her heels, unable to contain herself. Maybe they'd find snow people, or ice creatures, or—her imagination raced with possibilities.
"Oh, Dan Heng!" she exclaimed, grabbing his sleeve. "Miss Himeko wants you, me, and Xander to go to Jarilo-VI together!"
Dan's expression didn't change, but his voice carried a hint of resignation. "...As I expected. Even after he's arrived, I'm not being liberated of my duty."
He turned to Xander, a trace of exasperation in his voice. "Before you came, whenever March wanted to go anywhere, Himeko would make Mr. Yang and me go with her. I assume..."
March watched as Dan trailed off, noticing something in Xander's expression that made him pause. "Is something the matter?"
"We can't go down to Jarilo-VI yet," Xander stated, his tone unexpectedly firm.
March blinked, confusion washing over her. "We can't?" But she'd already been planning what to pack, what photos to take first!
Xander sighed, rubbing his temples as if fighting off a headache. "We don't have enough information," he explained, his voice patient despite the strain evident in his posture. "What happens if we stumble upon civilization where Dan Heng mentions there's still good enough temperature for humans to live? How will they receive us? Will they take kindly to strangers or just about try to kill us on sight? It wouldn't be a far-off possibility—we'd be aliens to them."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. Can we find any records of civilization on this planet before it froze? If so, what was their culture like? Were they a very globalized society, or the entire opposite? What of their government? Was it a monarchy, or a dictatorship perhaps?"
March felt a twinge of disappointment, but she had to admit his reasoning made sense. They usually did dive into missions with minimal preparation, and it had gotten them into trouble more than once. Like that time on Penacony when she'd accidentally insulted a local official by taking pictures of the wrong building.
"We need to prepare for any worst-case scenarios," Xander concluded, crossing his arms.
"What would be a worst-case scenario for you?" Dan asked, curious.
"Cannibals," Xander replied, his tone deadpan. After a beat, he added, "Or zealot communists."
March shuddered at the word "cannibals"—that did sound pretty terrible. But the second term confused her. "What's a communist?"
Xander was already walking away, heading back toward Himeko and Welt. March hurried after him, her curiosity piqued.
"Hey, hey Xander!" she called out, tugging on his sleeve. "Don't leave me hanging, you meany. What's a communist? Xander!"
He continued to ignore her questions, which only made her more determined to get answers later. For someone who claimed to have memory problems, he certainly seemed to know a lot of strange terms and concepts.
They reached Himeko and Welt, and March listened as Xander explained his concerns about their mission readiness. His confidence was so different from his earlier nervousness—it was like watching two different people inhabit the same body. The contrast was jarring.
"Himeko," he said, "I'm aware you mentioned you can look up information for us, but I'd like to request that you let me do it instead."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"
Xander gestured toward the floating blue crystal in the corner—the Space Anchor that March knew connected to various points across the galaxy. "I'll use the Space Anchor to pay a visit to Herta. Knowing her, the station likely holds records of Jarilo-VI that could be of help."
March perked up at this suggestion. She hadn't had a chance to properly explore the Herta Space Station before all the chaos erupted. Maybe this time she could take more photos! The architecture there was fascinating.
Himeko considered the idea, her expression thoughtful. "Alright," she finally said. "Why not take March and Dan with you?"
To March's disappointment, Xander shook his head. "The Astral Express can't move from where it is. You said it yourself: Nanook glanced at us. The Antimatter Legion could attack at any moment. The more people left on the Express to defend it, the better."
He met Himeko's gaze, his voice softening. "I promise to come back as soon as possible."
March watched as Himeko observed him closely, clearly weighing his request. After a moment, she exchanged a glance with Welt, both nodding in agreement.
"Alright, Xander. I accept your request. Be careful out there."
As Xander turned to leave, March caught a glimpse of something in his eyes—relief, perhaps? Or was it something darker, more complex? She couldn't quite read it, but whatever it was, it didn't match his calm exterior.
She couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to their newest crew member than met the eye. And March 7th, if nothing else, loved a good mystery.
She'd give him space for now, but sooner or later, she'd figure out what he was hiding.
And maybe, just maybe, help him the way the Astral Express crew had helped her.
———————————————
The Herta doll designated Unit #319 stood perfectly still in a small antechamber adjacent to Madame Herta's primary laboratory. Through mechanical eyes, the doll observed the organized chaos of equipment and charts that filled the space, analyzing each element with quiet efficiency.
Unit #319 had been activated just seven hours prior for a specific assignment—one that Madame Herta had deemed of particular importance. The memory of that activation remained perfectly preserved in the doll's memory banks.
"I'm assigning you a special task, little me," Madame Herta had said, her purple eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of curiosity and calculation. "We have a fascinating new specimen to study. Subject designation: the Unanswerable Question, though he seems to prefer to be referred to as 'Xander.'"
The doll recalled how The Herta had circled it, making minute adjustments to its articulation points, ensuring optimal functionality.
"He's not just any subject," she had continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He hosts a remarkably stable Stellaron—one that shouldn't be stable at all. But more intriguingly, there appears to be something else inside him. A presence that emerged during our... conversation."
The real Herta had paused then, absently twirling a strand of ash-brown hair around her finger. "He's, moreover, Nous's Unanswerable Question', although he holds no recollection of ever meeting Droidhead. Utterly fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"
The doll had nodded dutifully, as programmed.
"His memories have been altered—quite extensively. Whether by Memosnatchers or some other means, I can't yet determine. But I've struck an agreement with him. Or whatever was speaking through him at the time." Herta had chuckled then, the sound ringing with anticipation. "He'll submit to my experiments in the Simulated Universe, and in exchange, I'll help him find answers about his condition."
The Herta had fixed the doll with a penetrating stare. "Your task is simple: monitor him. Report any anomalies, any signs of the other presence emerging. And remind him, subtly but firmly, of our arrangement. He belongs to me now, regardless of whatever agreement Himeko thinks she's made with him."
The doll's sensors detected a vibration—a message arriving on its internal communication system. Madame Herta was reaching out from her main office.
Experiment#7161945: Get the simulator ready. Arriving at the office in 5.
Interesting. The subject had returned to the Space Station far sooner than anticipated. The doll's facial mechanisms shifted into the default smile configuration as it calculated possible reasons for this early return.
Perhaps the strain of hosting both a Stellaron and the mysterious second presence had proven too uncomfortable aboard the Astral Express? Or maybe the subject's curiosity about his condition had overwhelmed his desire to maintain the pretense of joining the Nameless?
The Herta doll made its way toward the monitoring station that connected to Madame Herta's office. Through the security feed, it observed as Madame Herta read the message on her device, her eyes widening with surprise before narrowing in amusement. She couldn't help but snicker, the sound echoing in the empty office.
The doll noted the reaction with mechanical precision. Madame Herta had clearly expected Xander to return to the Station after a couple of days, not mere moments after leaving with the Astral Express. This early return represented an anomaly—and anomalies were always of greatest interest to The Herta.
"Madame Herta?" Asta's voice interrupted, the assistant entering the frame of the security feed. "Did you receive good news? You seem happy."
The doll observed as Madame Herta turned to face her assistant, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Indeed, I did," she admitted, her tone laced with a hint of mischief that the doll recognized as anticipation of an engaging experiment. She rose from her seat, smoothing out the creases in her dress as she walked towards the door.
"Asta, continue monitoring the progress of the repairs," Herta instructed, her voice firm. "I want regular updates on how quickly we're fixing the damage left by the Legion's attack."
Asta nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, Madame Herta. I'll keep you informed."
Herta paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. "I've got a new toy to play with," she said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Make sure I'm not disturbed."
With that, she stepped out of the office, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way towards the simulator room.
The Herta doll designated Unit #319 was waiting, having already run diagnostics on the simulation equipment and confirmed optimal functionality. The special protocols Madame Herta had designed for Subject Xander were loaded and ready.
The Stellaron-contaminated simulation environments remained isolated behind triple-layered containment fields. The doll noted that the most recent adjustments had been calibrated specifically to interact with Subject Xander's unique Stellaron signature.
Its memory banks recalled Xander's behavior during their previous encounter—the trembling hands he had tried to hide, the flashes of panic in his eyes when the doll had mentioned "their arrangement," the way he had flinched at the lightest reference to whatever had occurred in Madame Herta's office during their private conversation. Subject Xander was clearly experiencing significant psychological distress regarding his condition.
The Herta doll's facial mechanisms adjusted slightly. Not quite a smile anymore—more akin to the expression Madame Herta wore when a subject was proving especially reactive to stimuli. The most interesting test specimens were always the ones who showed emotional instability under pressure.
Given what had transpired during Xander's confrontation with The Herta, his rapid return suggested the other presence—this "Nemesis imprint" that Madame Herta had theorized about—might be exerting greater influence than initially projected. The doll made note to monitor for any signs of altered speech patterns, unusual knowledge, or physical manifestations that might indicate the presence was surfacing.
The security sensors detected Madame Herta approaching the simulator room. The doll positioned itself beside the main console, ready to assist with whatever instructions she might provide regarding their fascinating new subject.
What made Xander particularly intriguing was his connection to Nous and the impossible knowledge he possessed. Madame Herta had been most explicit in her instructions about this aspect: any reference to the Aeon of Erudition, any manifestation of foreknowledge, any sign of the "Unanswerable Question" emerging—these were to be reported immediately and recorded with the highest priority.
The door slid open as Madame Herta entered the simulator room, her eyes bright with anticipation.
"Status report, little me," she commanded, approaching the console.
"All simulation parameters are prepared according to specifications, Madame Herta," the doll replied, its voice a perfect mimicry of The Herta's own, though slightly higher pitched. "The subject is expected to arrive via Space Anchor in approximately seven minutes, based on current transit patterns."
The Herta nodded, examining the readouts with a quick, practiced eye. "An interesting development—our specimen returns sooner than expected. This suggests an eagerness that merits study." She tapped a sequence into the console, bringing up several additional monitoring protocols. "I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for this initial session. Something rather pressing has come up in the Clock Tower that requires my personal attention."
The doll's head tilted slightly. "Would you prefer to reschedule Subject Xander's session, Madame?"
"Absolutely not," Herta replied, her tone betraying mild irritation at the suggestion. "This is precisely why I created you, little me. You will oversee the subject's initial simulation runs. Monitor his reactions, physical responses, and particularly any manifestation of the secondary presence."
She handed the doll a specialized data crystal. "This contains modified simulation parameters designed to provoke stress responses. Implement them progressively—I want to see how far he can be pushed before something interesting happens."
The doll accepted the crystal, interfacing it with its systems. "And if the imprint emerges?"
A slow smile spread across The Herta's face. "Then engage Protocol Omega-7. Record everything. And under no circumstances allow him to leave the simulator until I return."
"Understood, Madame Herta." The doll's voice modulation shifted to match The Herta's excited cadence. "How much should I reveal about our awareness of the imprint?"
"Nothing directly," Herta instructed, already moving toward the door. "But feel free to... provoke it. Make oblique references to our earlier conversation. Observe how he reacts when you mention Nous or the Aeon's interest in him. Push him to his limits."
She paused at the doorway. "Our new toy is more fascinating than he realizes. I suspect he's carrying something quite valuable inside that fractured mind of his—something even he doesn't fully comprehend."
The Herta doll nodded, its programmed anticipation a pale shadow of its creator's genuine excitement. "I will extract maximum data from the sessions, Madame Herta."
"See that you do." With a final glance at the simulation readouts, The Herta departed, leaving the doll to prepare for Xander's arrival.
The doll adjusted its facial parameters to display the perfect balance of clinical interest and mild condescension that The Herta preferred when dealing with research subjects. It would observe. It would record. And it would help Madame Herta unravel the mystery of the man who had somehow caught the attention of an Aeon.
After all, that was what it had been made for.