“Weeeeeeeeeee ll drink-a-drink-a-drink to Lily the Pink-the-Pink-the- 
Pink, the savior of our human ra-a-a-ce! For she invented medicinal 
compound, most efficacious in every case!” 


[Nanami: How long are they going to keep singing? I’m 


about ready to tear out my spine and hang myself with 
it.] 

[Tomi: I'd like to see that.] 

[Boss: You could go ask them to stop.] 

[Nanami: Hell no! Why do you think I’m sittin’ here 
complaining about it? Drunk Momoko is one thing, but 


there’s no way I’m getting near drunk Hana without being 
totally sloshed.] 


[Nanami: And they just drank the last of it, WHICH IS 
THE REASON THIS IS A PROBLEM. ] 


“Poutine poutine!” 
[Nanami: OH GOD] 
[Boss: hahahahaha] 
“Poutine poutine!” 
[Nanami: OH GOD NO.] 
“J'ai tellement faim!” 
“Poutine poutine!” 
“Poutine poutine!” 
“Poutine poutine!” 
“C'est ¢a ou rien!” 
“POUTINE POUTINE!” 
[Nanami: / am dead, bury me with my porn stash.] 
[Tomi: You shall be as Nefertiti.] 


[Nanami: Damn right.] 


Day 15 


“Hope you like cranberry.” A packet of juice tumbled end over end 
from Boss’s to Wizard’s. 


“How long was | out this time?” A limp hand plucked the bag out of 
the air. 


“Nine hours and change.” 
“I’m sore all over.” 

“You look like it.” 

“Thanks for reminding me.” 
“Need anything else?” 

“Na. Think I’m okay.” 


“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” Boss pushed off towards the 
other module. Wizard was left alone with his cranberry juice and his 
thoughts. 


There were moments when his mind drifted from the ship and the 
girls. Here some hazy, lingering shade of his old identity had come 
floating into the present between the dream and waking up. There 
had been a past before, as little as he thought about it now. He once 
had a wife. Kids. Siblings. Friends. Parents. A job. All gone. As far 
as any of them knew, he had just disappeared a short time after he 
had gone off to Japan to teach English. A suicide by a man of low- 
to-middling prospects and low-to-middling ability, fueled by a failing 
marriage and failing health, or so it was thought. 


All of those memories felt as if they belonged to someone else. No 
matter how he felt that the nature of the man had changed, the 
nagging voice of doubt always asked if that was truly the case, and 
suggested it would be more reasonable to assume that he was 
either callous enough to sever all ties to the man he was, or 
delusional enough to try and run from it. 


It was a Cunning, persuasive voice, and at times like these he could 


not tell if it was Red’s, or his own, or if there was even a difference 
between the two. 


Wizard drained the last of the cranberry juice. Selective hearing had 
always been a skill of his. 


Day 18 

“Hana, there’s the carcass of a space whale right outside our 
window,” Nanami said, with far less enthusiasm than she had any 
right to have. 


“Are you okay?” 


“I’m bored. The whale is surrounded by the bodies of the whalers 
who died trying to bring it back into port.” 


Hana pushed herself over and nudged Nanami to the side so that 
they could share the window. There was, as she suspected, nothing 
there. 


“That one guy with the broken helmet was two days away from 
retirement.” Nanami pressed a finger against the glass, pointing at 
nothing. 


“The woman with the big harpoon used to be a pirate. Her best 
friend was a space octopus.” Hana played along, because she was 
just as bored. 


“The company never retrieved the bodies, because they wiped them 
all from the records.” 


“But...it’s not all depressing. They left a gift for one of the other 
crews.” 


“A map to a hidden stash of loot.” 
“Space ambergris.” 
“Diamonds the size of your skull.” 


“And a crate of microwaveable space-meat burritos.” 


“Now you're just cheating,” Nanami groaned. 


“So the second crew all gets packed up in their tugboat and heads 
off into the belt to find the treasure,” Hana continued. 


“And let me guess: the second crew is five sisters and their best 
friend?” 


“Yep. 


“Hahahahaha,” Nanami flipped herself backwards off the module 
wall. “Not yet, sis, not just yet.” 


But soon, both of them thought. Soon indeed. 
Day 21 
“That's it right there, Boss. That’s the Solidarity.” 


The ship was little more than an egg-shaped blur on the screen, but 
it was enough to re-ignite Boss’ sense of swashbuckling from its 
vacation. 


“Excellent. What kind of resistance are we looking at?” 


“Uh, none, Boss. Station’s giving us the all-clear to board,” Nanami 
said as she fiddled around with the control board. 


A second passed where even the ship engine seemed to silence 
themselves. 


“Are you fucking kidding me?” 
“No joke. Clearance codes are all good.” 


Boss peered again at the fuzzy grey ship and its accompanying 
station. 


“What an obvious trap.” 
“Tell me about it.” 


“They'd know we’d figure that out, though,” Momoko butted in. 


“And we know that they know that, yeah yeah, let’s skip that song 
and dance.” Boss shook her head. “Suggestions, anybody?” 


Stealing Solidarity: Phase 3 


« Stealing Solidarity: Phase 2 | Hub | Stealing Solidarity: Phase 
4» 


Hieronymus was the oldest of the D-class aboard the Solidarity. He 
alone remembered the time when the Glass Mothers were of the 
fourth generation, rather than the fifth. He had once fought a 
neogenic moonshark in the aquaculture, and lived to tell of it. 
Whenever there was a disagreement between cousins, the clan 
brought the issue to his feet, knowing that his wisdom would guide 
the quarrelers to peaceful compromise. Throughout the Nation-in- 
Solidarity, his name was adored, for he was the greatest elder of 
their history. 


He was also the last surviving member of the Nation, and he was 
dying. Space and age had stretched him out. Blue veins criss- 
crossed underneath doughy, translucent skin. His organs, flash- 
grown, sputtered and coughed — they had passed their expected 
lifespan some time ago. 


The Tertiary Automated Janitorial System, the Nation’s long-held 
enemy, had broken the pattern of simple strikes back and forth and 
had attacked in their full force. The tide of silvery-green blobs had 
been met with lightning-caster and nanopaste, and Nation-man 
fought alongside the Lords’ Wardens, both the warriors and the 
scholars. They offered nothing less than the greatest and most 
noble resistance, stopping only when they were at last overwhelmed 
and consumed. Heironymus’ two most beloved cousin-sons, 
Theophrastus and Praejectus, were the last to fall as they drove out 
the Janitorial blobs and sealed off the Nation’s modules from the 
outside. 


Now there was only old Hieronymus, waiting in Ancestors’ Bay, to 
greet the newly-docked emissaries of his distant lords. They had 
traveled far to reach the Nation, but had arrived too late to help. 


But he would cling to life for as long as he could, as long as was 
necessary, just long enough to pass on his mission to the 
emissaries. 


The ship from afar was heavily damaged: great sheets of plating had 
been torn away. That which remained was pockmarked and scarred. 
It had settled in the great magnetic docking clamps, but the 
emissaries had yet to exit. 


The hatch opened, and the barrel of a gun poked out. This was 
retracted after a few moments, and replaced with a head that 
scanned Ancestor’s Bay, and then withdrew. 


Five women! descended down the ladder, their steps uneven in the 
minimal rotational gravity of the Solidarity. They were all armed and 
armored, and carried with them bags of supplies. One man wearing 
a spacesuit, with a maroon robe and matching floppy hat, followed 
them. 


“Hail, esteemed guests!” Hieronymus called out to the emissaries as 
they approached. “I welcome you in behalf of Nation-in- Solidarity.” 
He bowed as low as his brittle back allowed. To his inner surprise, 
he noted that they did the same to him, and this made him glad: the 
Lords knew of his work, and were pleased by it, this was a sure sign. 


“Thank you,” said a woman with a great scar across her face. 
Hieronymus judged her to be the leader of the emissaries by her 
stance and the cadence of her voice. 


“No thanks are necessary. You are guests, and servants of our 
distant Lords the same. | am Hieronymus, last of the Nation.” 


“Bosch?” asked the largest of the women, whose hair was black and 
white. Hieronymus blinked at her. Was that a name? Some foreign 
word of confusion? He was not sure, though it didn’t seem important 
enough to follow up. 


Mirror 22 appeared non-anomalous when examined after incident. 


Experiment 944-C-2: Date: / /201 Subject D-21332 allowed to 
enter SCP-944. Subject walked into Mirror 5, Hallway A. Security 
team dispatched after hearing subject screaming. D-21332 observed 
trapped in/behind mirror (unable to determine which). Mirror broken 
during attempted extraction of D-class. [DATA EXPUNGED]. 


Experiment 944-C-3: Date: / /201 D-23187 ordered to enter 
SCP-944. Subject observed to walk through Mirror 15, Hallway B. 
Subject found in front of Mirror 15, Hallway C, deceased, entirely 
coated with thin layer of glass. Mirrors found intact and appeared to 
be non-anomalous. 


Experiment 944-C-4: Date: / /201 D-24110 ordered to enter 
SCP-944, and follow blue-lined path to “Hall of Fun.” Subject found 
collapsed in Hall of Fun; height extended to 229 cm and [DATA 
EXPUNGED}]; remotely extracted. Subject expired after 10 minutes 
due to massive organ damage. 


Footnotes 
1. Similar toSCP-1225, many of these distortions result in the 
degradation of the object/subject. 


« SCP-943 | SCP-944 | SCP-945 » 


“What happened to the rest of your people?” the scarred woman 
said. 


“Dead.” Hieronymus bobbed his head. “You have arrived too late 
and too early, | fear. | am the last, and the Glass Mothers cannot 
fulfill my petition to replenish our numbers before | die.” He 
attempted a smile, and the result was broad and awkward. “But 
come, there will be time to the Lords’ duties later. We will go to the 
village, where you might eat your fill and take what you need from 
the Dispensary, and | might leave my duty in your hands. Please, 
follow me.” 


[Hana: Well, isn’t he friendly.] 

[Momoko: How is there no trap?] 

[Tomi: He is.] 

[Hana: | like him.] 

[Momoko: They cannot be this bad at laying traps.] 
[Tomi: Not a single suspicious bulge anywhere. ] 
[Boss: Calm, calm...] 


[Momoko: Pulling the friendly old person as bait routine? 
They’re either idiots, or tactical geniuses. | 


[Nanami: Prior experience says those are the same 
thing.] 


[Boss: She’s right. Especially because we've used that 
trick before.] 


[Momoko: Fuck ambiguity. | like my traps 
straightforward.] 


[Tomi: Ha ha ha.] 
[Hana: Just be careful. No need to get super-paranoid.] 


[Boss: The lone surviving member of an inbred clone 
clan onboard a gigantic ancient spaceship is not the 
weirdest thing we have dealt with. Just be thankful that 
convenience decided to be on our side for once.] 


[Nanami: Oh goddammit now I’m trying to think of what 
the weirdest thing we've ever dealt with is.] 


[Momoko: ...] 


[Momoko: We're going to be at this a while.] 


Boss was as giddy as a schoolgirl, or would have been if she had 
ever been a schoolgirl@, or ever openly expressed giddiness. She 
was giddy in her own way, and the occasional sideways glances she 
got from her sisters told her that they knew it. 


The ship was greater than she could have ever imagined. While 
there was a certain attraction to be had for a sleek iMac interior, it 
lacked personality in lieu of sterile, focus test cleanliness. The 
Solidarity, she was finding, had personality oozing out of its walls. In 
one case this was literal. 


Hallways and modules were cobbled together with tape and prayers, 
no two the same. The aesthetic went from trim and utilitarian to 
clunky and industrial to esoteric and seemingly-pointless. Equipment 
built by entirely different species, computer terminals and access 
ports. Everything overhauled and replaced: torn out, built up, built 
over, built on, put into. Graffiti all over the walls in dozens, hundreds 
of different languages, and she could read each piece, even the 
clearly alien text. She had no idea why, and she didn’t care. Space 
magic, why not? They already had a space wizard. Space magic 
could be a completely legitimate field of not-science. 


The locals had all the looks of the vat around them: facial structures 
and body structure were effectively uniform, their voices all had the 
childlike high pitch of a eunuch. Faster and more crudely grown than 
her or any of the girls, obviously. Disposable, probably. Decanted, 
lived, worked, died on the ship and the station, never seeing Earth. 
But, she didn’t pity them overmuch — in terms of vat-spliced slave 
labor, this operation seemed to be relatively pleasant. Hopefully, 
they would be understanding of a little change in management, and 
while Boss acceded that they might not, it was a free crew, and she 
was far too overwhelmed with stupefying childlike joy to give much 
more thought to it. 


There was a feeling perched on her shoulders of returning to a place 
she had never been. She knew this ship. Knew each detail with the 
same intimacy that someone else might trace the outlines of objects 
in their bedroom. The clank of boots on metal grate stairs, the dry- 
warm smell of the air, the creak of an inexplicably-placed hardwood 
floor were all as close to her as if she had spent years soaked in 
their presence 


This was home. This was home. 


There had been an engraving on the arch of the door leading out of 
the loading bay, and the words had been bouncing around in her 
chest since she passed under them. 


“Serenity upon you and the end of your fernweh.” 


Home embraced her, like an old, beloved friend. 


Internal Dispensary Requisitions Receipt: SmartPrint Station 40 
[TIMESTAMP UNAVAILABLE: PLEASE CONTACT SHIPWIDE 
INFORMATION SERVICES] 


As this terminal has not been activated in [TIMESTAMP 
UNAVAILABLE: PLEASE CONTACT SHIPWIDE INFORMATION 


SERVICES], user feedback is mandated to insure continued quality. 
Thank you for using SmartPrint Station 40! 


Order# 110030437 
Contents: 


¢ Tank top (Black) 

* Cargo pants (Olive) 

¢ Boots (Black) 

* Custom patch (Black Rabbit Company) 


Customer feedback: Interface needs streamlining. Service was 
quick, item quality high. 


Order# 110030438 
Contents: 


* Summer dress, combat modified (sea foam) 
* Sandals 
* Custom patch (Black Rabbit Company) 


Customer feedback: This is very handy. 


Order# 110030439 
Contents: 


¢ Blouse (white) 

¢ Three-piece double-breasted suit, with tails. (Black, crimson 
velvet trim, gold buttons) 

Fingerless wool gloves (white) 

Cravat (white) 

¢ Peaked cap (black) 

¢ Smart-Eyepatch (Electronic-uplink capable) 

* Custom patch (Black Rabbit Company) 

¢ Parody Cigar (Chocolate & banana flavor) 


Customer feedback: (“w™) 


Order# 110030440 
Contents: 


« Headband (red) 

¢ T-shirt (black, custom print: Chibi Bayonetta) 

« Jeans (Loose fit, medium bleach, low tear) 

¢ Aurochon-Class power armor [ERROR: COULD NOT 
MANUFACTURE] 

* Custom patch (Black Rabbit Company) 


Customer feedback: Oh come on, you had the power armor listed 
in the catalog and everything. 


Order# 110030441 
Contents: 


* Mountaineering sunglasses (Purple tint) 

¢ Scarf (Light blue, alpacas print border) 

* Hawaiian-print button-down shirt (Blue with yellow flowers) 
* Straw hat 

* Custom patch (Black Rabbit Company) 


Customer feedback: No. 


Hieronymus set out the remainder of the village’s food for his 
guests. Plankton and krill cakes, even a full spindly-fish from the 
aquaculture. The woman with the scar across her face had 
introduced herself as Boss.