Glen furrowed his brow. He had only seen this sort of technology in historical texts.

“I take it you’re familiar with this device?” Lune asked from behind Glen.

Glen couldn’t help his curiosity. “It looks like a cerebral probe,” he said.

“Exactly,” Sol said.

Glen’s head lifted. “But those haven’t been produced since –“

“This one was produced in 532,” Lune explained. “But don’t worry – I’ve preserved it well. I even still have the transceiver button. See?” He held a metal button up in front of Glen’s eyes. “With this, the device is fully functional.”

Glen swallowed. He didn’t want to ask how Lune knew it still worked. He had a suspicion that he was about to find out.

Lune placed one hand on Glen’s left temple. Glen instinctively pulled back. “Stay still,” Lune said in a sing-song voice. He placed his fingers against the left side of Glen’s head once more, and then pressed the metal button to Glen’s right temple. It stuck there, against Glen’s curls, as though magnetically attracted to his head.

“Now, Sol – if you will?” Lune asked.

Sol, reached forward and placed two fingers around the knob on top of the radio, then turned it.

Glen gasped as rapid bursts of electricity began to buzz in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t a painful sensation, but it was unpleasant.

“Is it working?” Sol asked.

“Let’s find out,” said Lune. He placed his hands on Glen’s shoulders and put his mouth close to Glen’s ear. “Feel like playing a game?” Glen didn’t answer. “The instructions are fairly simple.” Lune drew away and stalked to the other side of the table. He gestured his head towards Sol. “We ask you a question, you answer the question. If you get the answer right, then you get to ask us a question. Think you can do it?”

Glen was sure that they could hear his heart beating against his chest. He said nothing.

The pair exchanged a brief glance. Lune smirked and reached for the sensor beside the knob. “I asked you a question,” he said smoothly. “I asked if you think you can do it. Well? Can you?”

“Yes,” Glen choked out.

“Well done,” Lune said. “Now you have the chance to ask your first question. Make it worthwhile.”

“How did I get here?” Glen asked.

Lune sighed. “I was hoping for something…more specific. It’s less boring that way,” he said.

“We kidnapped you,” Sol answered.

“Why?”

Lune suddenly slammed his hand down on the table, eyes murderous. “It’s our turn!” he snarled. He laid a finger against the cube and slid it halfway up the sensor bar.

Pain exploded in Glen’s head. He reeled back, nearly sliding out of his chair. His knees drew up toward his chest, and his hands gripped the hair around his temples.

“Stop!” he pleaded. “St-Stop!”

Sol leaned forward. “Your name?”

Glen gasped for breath. His vision was growing dim. “G-Glen! Please, stop!”

Lune took a deep breath in. “We need your full planetary name, Glen,” he said in a tone too calm for Glen’s liking.

Glen gritted his teeth and groaned. “Glen – Ptahfi,” he hissed.

Lune removed his fingers from the sensor bar. The pain vanished at once, but Glen took a few moments to uncurl.

“Alright, Glen Ptahfi, it’s your turn,” Sol said.

Glen inhaled shakily, then asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“We were hired to,” Sol replied. Glen waited for further elaboration, but Sol didn’t offer any.

“Our turn again!” Lune said. “Who is the True Delegate of Zelos?”

Glen blinked. “…What?” he said. “I – I don’t know that.”

“Wrong answer,” Lune said. He reached forward and slid his finger on the sensor bar.

“Wait – w-“ Glen broke off as electricity pulsed through his skull. “S-Stop!” he cried. His body curled in on itself once more.

“Who is this planet’s direct link to Gal-U? Who is the True Delegate?” Sol asked.

“I don’t – I don’t – don’t know!” Glen gasped, raising his shaking hands to his forehead. “P-Please!”

Lune's finger slid up the sensor bar, and Glen’s skull felt like it was splitting apart. He tried to beg for the pain to stop, but all that came out was a howl.

Chirp.

It was a familiar sound: it was the sound of Glen’s comm. But it hadn’t echoed through Glen’s head, as it usually did. It came from the speaker of the cerebral probe.

“What was that?” Sol demanded. “Lune, knock that off.”

Lune lifted his finger from the sensor bar, and the pain dissolved. Glen gasped for breath.

“What was that?” Lune demanded. “That noise, that – that chirp – what was it?”

“Aegis to Ptahfi.” Blare’s voice came from the tiny cube on the table.

“Ah…it’s your comm,” Lune sighed. “Who is that? Will they come looking for you?” Glen didn’t reply, his ears ringing too loudly to think straight. “Will they come looking for you if you don’t answer?” Lune’s voice was sharp as a knife. Glen forced himself to nod. Lune hummed. “Answer the call,” he instructed.

Glen looked up at Lune through a gray haze. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly.

“Answer the call,” Lune said. “I won’t say it again.”

Glen reached up at tapped his sternum four times.

“Aegis to Ptahfi,” Blare said again, her voice tinny on the cube.

“Hey, Blare,” Glen said.

“Glen! Holy – Aries above, are you okay? Where are you?”

“I –“

Panic killed Glen’s voice as Lune reached his hand out and hovered a finger over the sensor bar.

“Glen?” Blare asked. “Are you there?”

Sol leaned forward. “Say you’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” Glen said.

“Glen, you dialed us and then wouldn’t answer when we got back to you. I’ve been trying to reach you for like an hour. What’s going on?”

Glen looked up at Lune, who lifted his chin. “Go on,” Lune whispered. “Convince them.”

An idea landed in Glen’s head, and he curled his fingers into fists to stop them from shaking. “I’m okay, Blare,” he said as brightly as he could. “I promise.”

Glen regretted it immediately; the word tasted like blood. His stomach turned over, and for a moment Glen felt like he was going to vomit. But he held himself together.

Blare didn’t reply right away. When she did, she sounded mildly annoyed. “Don’t scare me like that. Ugh, whatever. I’m going back to bed. Good rest.”

Chrip.

Lune withdrew his hand from the sensor bar. “Well…” he said. “Now I can’t remember whose turn it is.”

Glen blinked himself out of his disgust and said, “It’s mine.” He swallowed the bile in the back of his throat. “You asked if they’d come looking for me, and I answered.”

“So you did,” Sol said begrudgingly. “What’s your question?”

Glen looked up at the clock, then back at Sol. “My question is: what exactly were you hired to do?”

“That’s more like it,” Lune said. “That’s a specific question. You’re getting the hang of this.”

“We were hired to kidnap and interrogate a Gal-U representative,” Sol explained. “Our employer wants information about what’s going to happen to her…business, if the planet is inducted into Gal-U.”

Glen blinked. They think I’m higher in rank than I actually am, he thought. If they find out I’m just an intern, they’ll probably kill me.

“And speaking of that information,” Lune said, “it’s our turn to ask a question.” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Which of Zelos’s extraterrestrial ambassadors is the True Delegate?”

“That’s – that information is above me,” Glen stammered. “I don’t have clearance.”

Lune huffed. “Unfortunately, that is the wrong answer,” he said.

“Wait – please, I’m telling the truth!” Glen begged. “I – I –“

Lune’s finger pressed against the sensor bar, but before he could slide it, Sol grabbed his wrist. “Don’t waste your time – I believe him,” Sol said.

Lune lifted his finger. “Fine,” he sighed.

Glen, numb with relief, managed to say, “Thank you.”

“Ask your question,” Sol replied.

Glen couldn’t keep his eyes off of Lune’s finger hovering over the sensor bar. He furrowed his brow. “What…no, why does your employer want to know who the True Delegate is?” he asked.

“To assassinate him, of course,” Lune said. Glen flinched. Lune turned away and grumbled, “What a waste of a question.”

“Does it matter?” Sol growled. “Now it’s our turn again.” He lifted his chin. “When and where will the ambassadors be meeting next?”

Glen’s heart sank. “You want to assassinate all of the ambassadors to get to the True Delegate,” he said.

“Not bad, star-dweller,” Lune said. “Now quit stalling and answer the question.”

“I – I don’t –“ Glen broke off as Sol’s finger rested above the sensor bar. Glen did, of course, know the next meeting arrangements for the Zelosian ambassadors. He felt tears sting his eyes. “I don’t know,” he lied.

“Wrong,” Sol said. He pressed and slid his finger against the sensor bar.

Glen curled up with a gasp. He was sure that his head was going to cave in upon itself. His skull was like clay, and the electrical currents like hands folding and squeezing the it until it was soft and flexible. “Please – stop – stop!” he shouted.

“Answer the question,” said Sol.

“I – can’t,” Glen gasped.

“Sol, take it up,” Lune suggested.

Glen groaned. “No, please.”

“Tell us about the ambassadors,” Sol ordered.

Glen said nothing. Sol’s finger slid up the sensor bar, and Glen’s moan rose until it plateaued into a guttural bellow.

“All you have to do is give us a time and a place,” Lune said impatiently. “Let’s go.”

Glen pressed his palms against his temples. His vision was darkening, the ringing in his ears rising. Please, let me pass out, he thought.

But just as Glen was on the threshold of consciousness, the pain vanished.

Glen sucked in a long breath and tilted his head back. He blinked, and a heavy tear rolled down the side of his face. They want me awake, he realized miserably. They’re not about to let me just slip away.

Lune pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a simple question,” he said, “and a simple answer.”

“And don’t say you don’t know,” Sol said, “because I don’t believe you this time. So tell me: when and where are the ambassadors meeting?”

Glen hung his head. “I can’t tell you,” he croaked. His eyes shut tight and his muscles tensed in anticipation.

Lune’s hand grabbed Glen’s hair and pulled his head up. “No,” he snarled. “You can. And you will.”

Glen could barely see Lune’s face through his own blurry tears. You can’t tell them, he thought. You can’t tell them. Lives are at stake – you can’t tell them anything.

Lune pushed Glen’s face back. “Sol, let’s quit holding back,” he said. “Turn it up.”

Sol dipped his head. His finger slid against the sensor.

“No – n-“ Glen’s voice rose into a squeak as lightning struck the surface of his brain. His vision went white. He tried to cry out, but nothing happened. He tried to move, to claw at his own head, but his muscles wouldn’t reply.

Beyond the ringing in his ears, he heard a slam. He heard voices.

The pain dissolved suddenly, and Glen, too numb to stay upright, fell from his chair.

Voices rattled through the room. Shadows on the wall showed movement. Glen’s eyelids drooped.

In what could have been moments, could have been hours, he was in darkness. Then hands lifted his head, and his eyes snapped open.

“No – no,” he started to gasp.

“It’s okay – it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Glen recognized that voice. His eyes lifted to see Blare’s familiar face looking down at him.

“You’re okay,” Blare said again. “You’re safe.”

Glen blinked. “You found me,” he rasped.

“Thanks to you,” Blare explained. “When you used the Unbreaking Words, I – I knew something was wrong. We came as soon as we could."

Glen felt like his heart couldn’t take the amount of emotion overflowing inside. A sickening mixture of relief and revulsion washed over him. He’d saved his own life with his quick thinking – but at what cost? He’d compromised his own beliefs. Glen pressed his palms against his eyes and let his face crumple.

“It’s okay,” Blare murmured. “You did the right thing."

They arrived at the waterfall when the sun was directly overhead. The air was warm, but the soft mist from the waterfall lowered the temperature considerably.

“Check it out!” Tabby said, leaping onto a rock in the middle of the stream. “I see a pool over there. That’s got to have some hag stones.”

“Would you watch your step, please?” Brando fretted.

“Come on, Chuck.” Tabby ignored Brando and held out a hand. Glen took it and joined her. Their combined weight wobbled the rock a bit.

“I see a path,” Glen said, stepping onto the next flat stone. “We might get our feet wet, but –“

“That’s fine,” Tabby said. “I just want to see an alternate reality!”

Tabby found the first hag stone. She plucked it from a puddle and held it up to the sky. “Okay, fellas, take bets on whether it’s really cool or totally mundane!”

“Mundane,” Glen and Brando said at the same time.

“Boring,” Tabby snorted. She closed her left eye and held the hag stone hole in front of her right eye. “Oh! Okay, so it looks like…it’s dark…” She tilted her head upward. “Oh. Based on the stars, I’d guess that I’m on Hel.”

“So, in some alternate reality, you never left your home planet,” Brando supposed.

“Ew,” Tabby said, pulling the hag stone away from her face. “That sucks for alternate me.”

A splash turned their heads. Glen had stepped into the water; the current rushed past his ankles. He leaned forward and plucked a stone from the bottom of the stream.

“Got one,” he said. He held it out to Tabby.

Tabby shook her head. “Nope – your turn!” she said.

Glen regarded the hag stone for a moment, then shrugged and held it to his eye. He hummed in surprise.

“What do you see?” Tabby asked.

Glen gestured out into the open air. “I see a massive forest.”

“What kind of trees?” Brando asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” Glen said. He swung around, facing away from them both, and tilted his head down. “And this way…I see a river going down a hill, feeding into a bunch of farms. It’s beautiful. I don’t think it’s any planet I’ve ever been to, though.”

“What makes you say that?” Tabby asked.

“The sky’s orange.” He hummed. “Oh! I see someone. They’re…not a species I’ve met. They look…like…um, they sort of look like…” Glen trailed off, letting the sound of the crashing waterfall finish his thought.

“What do they look like?” Tabby asked eagerly.

Glen didn’t answer.

Brando leaned forward. “Glen?”

Glen’s head snapped up. “Oh – sorry. I…zoned out.” His hand fell by his side, hag stone barely hooked on his finger.

“You okay?” Brando asked.

“Hm?” Glen turned around. “What?”

Tabby and Brando recoiled, their voices rising with alarm.

“Whoa – whoa –“

“Chuck, your nose –“

Glen furrowed his brow and raised a hand to his face. His fingers traced the wide line of red that trailed down over his lips. He pulled his hand away in surprise. “Oh,” he said. “That’s blood.”

“I noticed that,” Tabby said. “You feeling okay?”

Glen’s brow furrowed as he stared at the red streak on his fingers. “Yeah…” he said. “I’m fine.” He lowered his hand into the stream to wash away the blood.

“I don’t like this,” Brando said. “Can we get out of here?”

“Yeah, I’m cool with that,” Tabby said. She leapt from rock to rock until she landed on the pebbly bank.

Tabby was the first, and the most frequent, user of the Unbreaking Words. “I swear, Brando!” she often admonished. But that was it. There was no actual threat, no real promise to stop whatever it was that Brando was doing to annoy her.

Blare was no better. Glen had been present for several of her report logs, and he’d heard her commit to things that were out of her control. “We promise to…”

Then there was Brando. He often urged the Unbreaking Words on others. “Promise?” he’d prompt sardonically. He did this whenever Tabby crossed her arms and threatened to stay quiet.

Slipper was no exception, either. He – much like Blare – would reach beyond his control and make promises. “You will recover. This I vow.” Slipper always said his words with certainty, but Glen knew science well enough to know that physicians cannot always accurately predict the trajectory of recovery.

It was only after a dangerous mission, one that left Glen and Brando in the Medical Bay, that Glen reached his breaking point.

“You will recover. This I vow,” said Slipper. Glen took the words like pills.

“Brando, I swear –“ Tabby threatened. Glen turned his head away.

“Promise?” Brando asked innocently. Glen shut his eyes.

“We promised to –“

“Please,” Glen finally choked out. “Please, not now.”

Blare, standing at the foot of Glen’s bed, blinked in surprise. She came around to stand by his side. “Are you in pain?” she asked. “Should I get Slipper?”

Brando and Tabby, sitting on the next bed over, fell quiet.

“No – yes – I mean…” Glen rubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to open them and meet Blare’s as he said, “Please, don’t say that. Not…not now. Not to me.”

Blare furrowed her brow. “I didn’t even finish.”

Glen couldn’t answer. He felt foolish.

Blare lowered herself into the chair by Glen’s beside. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you in pain?”

“That’s not it – I mean, yes, but that’s –“

“Tabby, fetch Slipper,” Blare ordered. Tabby left without argument. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry – it’s nothing.”

Brando tilted his head to the side. “You’re shaking.”

“Glen, what’s wrong?” Blare demanded.

“I’m okay,” Glen said, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid.” He shook his head. “It’s just…culture shock.”

“Culture shock?” Blare echoed. “What are you talking about?”

Glen’s throat tightened. He hadn’t wanted to make a scene.

Slipper and Tabby appeared in the doorway. “Are you in pain?” Slipper asked.

“Yes, but it’s not bad,” Glen assured. “I’m just being – sensitive,” he said, fumbling over the word.

“This is expected, after today’s incident,” Slipper said matter-of-factly.

Blare hesitated. “Did I say something that upset you?” she asked.

“No – no –“ Glen’s voice broke. “You didn’t mean to,” he amended. Blare’s eyes softened. “None of you did – do. It’s okay.”

“So it was not just Blare, but the entire crew,” Slipper inferred.

“What’d we do?” Tabby asked. “It won’t happen again.”

Glen swallowed back a sob. “It’s just…a planetary thing,” he said.

“Tell us about it,” Brando encouraged.

Glen bit the inside of his cheek. “On Ptah,” he said, “we have words that are…sacred. Words that we don’t use unless we truly mean them. It’s just…I’m not used to hearing them all the time.”

“Like what?” Blare asked.

Glen blinked rapidly. “The Unbreaking Words,” he said, “are words that we use to make oaths that we can and will fulfill. Words like…vow. Or swear. Or promise.” His voice cracked on the last syllable.

The crew stiffened as he spoke. Weeks of dialogue floated through their heads. Faces turned uncomfortable as they recalled instances wherein they had unthinkingly used those words.

“I had no idea,” Brando murmured. “Ah, shit, Glen, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Glen said, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay – I mean it. It’s just culture shock. I’m just being sensitive –“

“No, you’re not,” Tabby said, her voice serious. She stared him down until he had to meet her eyes. “Up until now, it wasn’t our fault – we didn’t know. But now that we do know…” She grinned. “Castor and Pollux, Chuck, we’re not going to keep using them like that. That’s not fair to you.”

“Yeah,” Brando agreed. “I’ll find better ways to say what I mean.”

“Agreed,” said Slipper, inclining his head.

“I’ve got a bigger vocabulary than you give me credit,” Blare teased gently.

Glen looked around his crew, his team. He felt his eyes welling with tears again. “You don’t have to –“ he started to say.

“We want to.”