"Some lessons are written in equations. Others are written in blood."
The hangar smelled like metal and sunrise.
Florence stood near the edge of the loading ramp, the wind from the turbines lifting the hem of her coat. Her reflection trembled in the glass plating of the shuttle, framed by the red morning light that poured through the open doors of Salt Lake Base.
Einstein checked her tablet one last time. "Primary objective: recovery of data cores from Site Delta-Seven. Minimal Honkai presence, residual radiation only. You'll be in a support role—medical and observation."
Florence tilted her head. "So, basically: don't die, don't run, don't improvise."
Tesla strapped a diagnostic band around her wrist. "Exactly. Three things you're notoriously bad at."
"I could try behaving," Florence said. "But then who would you two worry about?"
Einstein didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on Florence longer than necessary, studying not vitals but something quieter — hesitation disguised as confidence. "You're ready," she said finally. "But remember—if anything feels wrong, you call out."
Florence smiled. "Relax, Doctor. I'm good at surviving my bad ideas."
Tesla muttered, "That's what scares me."
The shuttle cut through the desert air, engines humming like low thunder. Florence sat near the open hatch, watching the world roll by — salt flats glinting beneath the morning sun, scattered ruins catching the light like broken mirrors.
She flexed her hands. The gold veins beneath her skin shimmered faintly, as if aware of where they were going.
Einstein's voice came over the comm. "How do you feel?"
"Like a ghost pretending to be useful," Florence replied. "But the view's nice."
"You'll do fine," Tesla said. "Just follow orders."
"I always follow orders," Florence said sweetly.
"Name one."
"'Wake up,'" Florence said, grinning. "I nailed that one."
Tesla groaned. "I regret bringing her."
They landed on the cracked earth of Delta-Seven — once a research outpost, now a grave of broken metal and wind. The remains of Schicksal equipment lay half-buried in salt and dust, their insignias erased by time.
Anti-Entropy drones whirred overhead, mapping radiation pockets. Florence adjusted the filter mask Tesla had given her and followed the two scientists toward the ruins.
Her sensors picked up the faint pulse of residual Honkai energy — echoes, not threats, but they made her skin prickle.
Einstein knelt beside a shattered data console. "Tesla, power coupling."
"On it."
Florence crouched beside them, watching. Her hands itched for something to do.
"Want me to hold the metaphorical flashlight?" she asked.
Tesla tossed her a toolkit instead. "You're a MANTIS, not decoration. Make yourself useful."
Florence caught it one-handed, smirking. "Finally, someone appreciates my versatility."
She opened the panel, eyes narrowing. Circuits sparked faintly — enough to warn an ordinary human away. But she wasn't ordinary.
Her fingers moved with the easy precision of instinct. "By the way, you're missing an isolator here. Whoever designed this was either an optimist or suicidal."
"Both," Tesla said.
Florence reconnected a bypass, the hum stabilizing. "There. Stable. Try not to blow us up."
Einstein powered the console. The screens flickered alive. "Data integrity 74%. You may have just saved us a month of reconstruction."
Florence smiled faintly. "What can I say? I like fixing things that deserve another chance."
The peace didn't last. A tremor passed through the air — faint but distinct. Drones went static, and the readings spiked.
"Localized anomaly," Tesla said, frowning. "Residual Honkai reaction?"
Einstein looked at Florence. "Can you sense it?"
Florence turned slowly. Something tugged at the edge of her awareness — not malice, not a presence, but pressure. The Holy Blood in her veins thrummed in response.
"It's… energy displacement. A leftover loop," she murmured. "It'll collapse in seconds if I stabilize the field."
"Can you?"
Florence's lips quirked. "Do you want the honest answer or the optimistic one?"
"Do it," Einstein said.
She stepped forward, palms open. Golden light bloomed across her skin — faint at first, then rising until it filled the air with warmth instead of fear. The static cleared. The readings flattened.
And for the first time, the site felt quiet again.
Tesla exhaled. "Remind me to rewrite the risk assessment for 'human miracle.'"
Florence turned to her with that dangerous grin. "Told you I'm useful."
Einstein smiled slightly. "More than useful. You're proving that control isn't a myth."
Florence's gaze softened. "Maybe control is just another kind of hope."
By the time they returned to the shuttle, the sky had turned amber. The desert stretched endless and peaceful beneath them.
Tesla leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "You didn't panic. You didn't break anything. I'm starting to think you're growing up."
"Don't ruin my reputation," Florence said. "I'm fragile."
Einstein adjusted her notes. "You also demonstrated field composure, creative problem-solving, and restraint. Otto never intended that."
Florence looked out the hatch as the base came into view — lights glowing like small promises in the distance. "Then I guess he failed successfully."
Tesla snorted. "Welcome to Anti-Entropy. We celebrate that."
Later, in the lab, Florence leaned over the railing while Einstein reviewed the data.
"You two really do balance each other," Florence said. "Brains and fire."
Tesla arched a brow. "What's that make you?"
Florence grinned. "The chaos between."
Einstein's tone was soft. "You're more than that. You're proof that even in ruin, something better can be built."
Florence met her eyes, then looked away, embarrassed by warmth she couldn't joke away. "Careful, Doctor. I might start believing you."
"Good," Einstein said. "We could use more believers."
That night, Florence sat alone in the observation deck. The stars shimmered faintly through the cracked dome above, filtered by the dust of a world still healing.
Her hand traced the sigil on her chest — calm now, not burning. The rhythm beneath her palm was steady, human.
She smiled. "Maybe I can learn to like tomorrow."
And in the silence of the Salt Lake Base, the machines answered her heartbeat in kind — steady, patient, alive.