Tabitha watched a seed moving in her hard black hands. Glowing softly and unfurling gently, in a glass-clear heavenly shoot. Drinking her volts and reaching for the bright summer sky. She stared in a reverie, where she sat on that skyscraper roof; breathing soft and silent. Lost in its tiny growth. A stolen moment, piano-peaceful, away from everything. Silk-soft and drowned in golden sunshine. Just the jewel-blue sky above her; the glassy plant growing in her cupped metal fingers. The hot tropic sunlight filled her up to the brim.
There has to be some kind of peace, on the other side of this. She had to believe that. Without that thought, that neon delusion, things were just too bleak. The odds too high against them. Nothing but death, in that dark distant ship.
‘Hey,’ came Atha’s voice in her earpiece. It startled her. ‘I found the plans. It’s dead ahead of you, towards the coast. Right in the centre.’
‘…Ok,’ she replied, pulling her bright eyes from the plant reluctantly. Sighing as she got to her feet; armed and armoured for the fight. Clawing a hole in the gravel rooftop to plant the voltflower down. A shining splash of water from the bottle on her belt, to help it grow bright and strong.
‘Alright. Let’s do this,’ she told Seven, towering black and brutal beside her. Climbing his offered wing to take the saddle. Tabitha felt his thoughts, as the harness grew around her. His power-plant energy, and that hot-metal smell. But her ship didn’t share her lost grey feelings. His thoughts were burning; fire-bright and fierce as ever. Pure bloody arrogance. Vast and formidable, and ferocious as a storm. Death or glory. She even smiled a little, as his jetscales roared thunder and they tore off over the city. They’d fight this together, he told her. Just like they always had. That Ghost conviction; that shotgun spirit. There was nothing the Watchers could throw at them that they couldn’t overcome.