Shadows and Stardust: A Tale of Ambition & Quest for Recognition

In the realm of emotional chess, she is the grand-master, anticipating every move before it happens. A female covert narcissist weaves a tapestry of false narratives, leaving those close to her ensnared in a web of half-truths and illusions. – Dr. Fine

Operation Menu: Phase Dinner (UNKNOWN)

FRAGO: Operation: Marianne's Vigil (UNKNOWN)

Rain pattered down in heavy drops as Sabine sprinted for cover beneath the packed bus stop shelter. Without an umbrella or any form of head covering, the rain transformed her hair into a sodden, tangled bird’s nest.

In the recesses of her mind, Sabine berated herself for neglecting to bring an umbrella. Estelle cracked open an eye and contemplated whether she should unleash an hour's worth of 'I told you so' or 'you should have joined the carpool' speech upon Sabine.

“I know I should have just given in and carpooled,” Sabine thought. “But I really don’t appreciate the way Dr. Howard eyes me when I sit next to him.”

Estelle observed that Sabine was occasionally using a word or phrase, a phenomenon that only manifested when she was fully synchronized or feeling overwhelmingly emotional.

A man, with dark brown hair and stubble, carelessly brushed against her, his hand lightly grazed her rear. Sabine turned to confront him directly.

“Pardon me,” he said to her. “There’s no room in here, and I didn’t mean to bump into you like that, Dr. Queen.”

Sabine stared into his soft blue eyes, and he smiled back at her.

“How…did you know my name?” she asked hesitantly.

He slowly moved his hand up and pointed to her name tag pinned to her shirt, under her white lab coat.

“I’m Doctor Kopf,” he said, trying to hold his hand out for her to shake it. “Gilbert Kopf.”

“Oh, you were just transferred…from the colonies,” she said, lowering her voice.

The eyes of the others crowded in the bus stop shelter stared at him, and a few tried to shift away.

“Yeah, but don’t hold that against me,” he said, pointing to those who moved away from him. “I was hoping to meet you, but not under these circumstances.”

A silver-haired woman pushed her way into the shelter, causing Sabine and Gilbert to press up against each other. Her hand accidentally rested against his firm stomach.

“Great this will be masturbation material for the next month,” Estelle thought. “It’s only slightly better that the usual fantasies…I guess.”

“I look forward to working with you in the ER,” he said in a hushed tone.

She smiled and nodded. The two stood there, side-by-side, a moment she hoped would never come.

***

Sabine shifted in the bed, attempting to rise, but Gilbert gently pulled her back, drawing her closer. His warmth enveloped her as he brushed her hair away from her neck, placing tender kisses on her ear.

“I need to get ready for work,” she murmured softly, feeling torn between responsibility and the comfort of Gilbert's embrace.

His lips trailed down to her neck, causing a gentle shiver to run through her.

Estelle and Sabine’s mind buzzed like a beehive, caught between the desire to leave and the irresistible warmth and security she found in Gilbert's arms. Each caress of his fingers felt like a soothing tide, making it difficult for her to pull away.

“Your father is the director; can’t you get him to find a replacement?” Gilbert whispered in her ear, his lips now on her shoulder. “I mean, you deserve at least one day off.”

“Yeah, but…someone needs to…” she started, closing her eyes as he continued to kiss her shoulder and move his lips further down.

“Even you are allowed to be a little late once in a while,” he suggested, kissing her back. “Please, my Queen Bee?”

“Okay…just a bit longer,” she replied with a sigh, succumbing to the allure of the moment.

Sabine reached for her phone and called the hospital, Gilbert's gentle distractions with his lips and fingers providing a welcome distraction.

***

The fluorescent lights buzzed loudly as Sabine navigated from room to room, her gait affected by the discomfort of her advancing pregnancy.

“Now this is hell,” Estelle complained, expressing the physical toll she was experiencing too.

Sabine's back ached, her feet were swollen, and the persistent pressure of the baby against her bladder exacerbated her discomfort. Compounding the situation, unusual hunger cravings tormented her, yet Bine, busy with double shifts, couldn't tend to her yearnings.

A comforting hand rubbed her belly from behind.

"How’s Junior?" inquired Gilbert.

“A bundle of energy,” Sabine replied, pushing his hands away.

“I need to leave early today, Bee. Can you cover my patients until the end of the shift?” he asked, rubbing her hands. “It’s okay, I already asked your dad. I need to go to town and…”

“Watch, he’s going gambling again,” Estelle interjected.

“You want to go gambling with your friends again, don’t you?” Sabine questioned, looking up at him.

“Uhhh no, I’m going with Robin and his brother to New Yarby to pick up stuff for the baby’s room,” he explained. “You are always imagining things, Bee.”

“Show him we are mad,” Estelle thought.

As Gilbert moved in for a kiss, Sabine turned her head at the last moment, accepting a kiss on the cheek instead.

“Thank you, Bee. You’ll see, the room will be ready by the time you get off your second shift,” Gilbert assured as he walked away.

“You know he’s still going to gamble, right?” Estelle remarked.

“Yeah, I know. Let’s just get through this shift and get some rest,” Sabine said, scratching her head, resigned to having to deal with Dr. Kopf’s patients.

***

The cocktail of medications, pain, and emotions flooded both Estelle and Sabine. Nestled on the bed amid a layer of pillows, Sabine clutched a stuffed bee beneath her arm, its stitched smile offering little solace.

In their shared grief, both Sabine and Estelle asked, "Where’s my baby?"

A warm hand rubbed Sabine's back while gently stroking her matted hair.

"He…didn’t make it, you know that," Gilbert said.

Dizzy from twelve hours of labor and pain medications, Sabine attempted to shift her position, hoping to find solace in Gilbert's smile, but the world remained a blur.

“But we did everything we were supported and…” Sabine began.

“Shh…don’t say a word,” Gilbert interrupted. "Get some rest, and we can talk about it later."

He extracted a needle from his coat and injected it into the IV bag port. Though footsteps approached the door, Sabine's eyelids grew heavy. She closed her eyes, clutching the stuffed bee tighter as tears silently streamed down her face.

“Don’t fall asleep; I want to hear what he will say to Nurse Pritchett first,” Estelle urged.

“Okay,” Sabine murmured.

"I’m sorry for your loss, Doctor,” Nurse Pritchett said, her voice was soft and comforting.

“She pushed herself; I told her not to overwork herself, but you know how Bee is. I…should have taken more of her shifts or something,” Gilbert lamented. “But she insisted on working double after double, no matter how many times I begged her not to.”

“Dr. Queen is such a colonial slave driver, working ten to fifteen days without time off,” Pritchett commented. “Umm, no offense, Gilbert. You did everything you could; the entire staff knows it!”

“None taken; I guess it was all for the best. Could you really see her taking care of a child? She would be in worse shape if it wasn’t for me taking care of her,” he reflected.

“Everyone knows you love her; it was all for the best, sir,” Pritchett whispered.

“You can’t help those who can’t help themselves,” Dr. Kopf added.

Estelle and Sabine had heard enough. They closed their eyes, allowing sleep to envelop them in its embrace.

***

Sabine and Estelle returned home after Sabine's night shift at New Yarby General, their weariness deep after enduring seventeen consecutive days of work. Upon entering, they found Gilbert lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the table.

"Good morning, Bee. Did you bring breakfast?" Gilbert inquired casually, clicking through channels on the telecrystal.

Sabine managed a weak smile before reclining on the couch.

"I said good morning," Gilbert repeated in a louder tone, prompting a half-hearted wave from Sabine as she gazed blankly around the room.

The state of the house was disheartening, scattered with empty beer bottles, and Gilbert appeared disheveled, as if neglecting personal care for days. Glancing at her watch, Sabine noted the time: 07:45.

"Aren’t you going to the Health Clinic? You've got your community service thing to do in 15," Sabine and Estelle reminded him.

"Pfft, I’m not going," Gilbert declared, settling back in his chair.

Sabine, feeling a surge of energy, sat up abruptly.

"What are you talking about? You only have forty hours left, and then you can get your license back. Daddy said once you complete the required..." she started.

"Eighty hours," he replied. "I stopped going a week ago."

"What have you been doing this entire time?" Sabine and Estelle demanded, their voices growing louder.

"Something that will benefit the family, but you don’t appreciate the sacrifices I’ve made for you. I’ve been going to the BC tryouts. I've got a real shot at this, Bee," he explained.

Sabine stood up, crossing her arms.

"Team Red needs doctors, and even paying big sign-on bonuses," he said, rising to his feet. "And once I’m in..."

She turned away, smoothing out the wrinkles on her pants.

"You... could join me, Bee," he suggested, wrapping his arms around her. "Free yourself from your old man and that stupid hospital. No more doubles, no more working ten days in a row without a day off."

She leaned into him, and Gilbert kissed the back of her neck.

"We can’t just quit," Sabine and Estelle insisted. "I have a responsibility to my patients and to my colleagues."

"This Battle City thing is projected to be the next big sport. They are paying gladiators triple-digit salaries, that’s before any endorsement contracts kick in, and..." Gilbert turned her around, kissing her forehead and pushing her hair back.

"When was the last time you took a vacation day, Bee?" he questioned.

"Well..." Estelle and Sabine hesitated.

"I'll make a deal with you. If I don’t make the cut, I promise that I will do one hundred and sixty hours of community service. But if I do make it, you must take some time off and join me," he proposed, sealing the deal with a deep kiss.

Sabine closed her eyes, holding onto the moment as he embraced her tightly, reigniting the fire in her heart.

***

The ground shuddered, causing paint to chip from the ceiling, as the staccato rhythm of gunfire echoed through the air. The heavy bark of a weapon was met with a volley of return fire from multiple sources. Amid the chaos, radio chatter urgently summoned back up to the third floor, just as another explosion rattled the building.

Sabine found herself attending to a patient laid out on an office table, his arm bleeding profusely. Despite her efforts, the tourniquet failed to stop the flow, and the stitches stubbornly resisted anchoring to the skin.

“Get this patient to the Gansfield chamber,” Bee ordered, her tone clear and concise. "This assassin's hemorrhage skill is ruining all attempts to save our people. Next!"

"Blue has been at this for twenty days straight. When will they give up?" inquired a nurse.

"We only have three days left until the season ends. Now, less talking and more working," Bee commanded.

In response, the nurse snapped her fingers, and two assistants clad in blood aprons swiftly entered, ready with a stretcher to assist in moving the patient. Two additional litter bearers entered, bringing in the next patient.

A man wearing a black leather trench coat and a red bandana tied across his forehead stormed into the makeshift operating room.

"Queen Bee, we've got a severe issue with the Gansfield Generator. We can’t extract the residual memories of death fast enough, and the techs keep reporting that the filters are clogging up," he reported, taking a knee before her.

Bee sighed. Without the filtration system functioning properly, any of the gladiators brought back to life would suffer from the memories of when they were killed and most likely freeze during combat. Her eyes changed color, and within her mind Estelle and her saw a glass jar with glowing coils inside. The remove viewing took her deeper into the inner workings of the machine. Her eyes began to glow blue. Then she saw what she was searching for. One of the chips on circuit board was black, while the others around it glowed a soft amber color.

She told the man in the trench coat, “We see a blown chip and we need to bypass it to save the generator. The device was never designed to work in an extended period like this.”

Estelle and Sabine distanced themselves from the patient leaving him with the nurse. They sprinted down the hallway as the building rumbled, the lights flickered lights. The people in the corridors sought cover under doorways as the building swayed.

“It matters not to us,” Estelle and Sabine said indifferently.

To her right, the wall emitted a hiss and pop.

"Someone is opening up a de Sitter doorway," Estelle thought.

The drywall peeled back, revealing a figure draped in a navy-blue cloak with daggers decorating his belt as he stepped into the hallway.

With a few blinks, Bee's mind absorbed the man's life. She was facing the assassin Mutilator. His entire life story and training projected into her mind after the second blink. Without so much as a glance, Bee dropped to one knee just as Mutilator's blade sliced through empty air. She deftly snapped her wrist, summoning her scalpel, parrying the ensuing series of attacks effortlessly.

As Mutilator prepared for another set of strikes, Bee flipped the scalpel, blade down, slicing up the length of his arm. Retrieving a syringe from her pocket, she injected its contents into his arm. Nonchalantly, she stood back up and continued down to the elevators.

Mutilator’s skin peeled back from arm. As he clutched limb, the skin continued to peel back till it removed itself from his body. He fell to the floor and muscles spasmed till they ripped themselves from the tendons and bones.

Undisturbed by his screams of pain, Bee swiped her access card on the elevator control panel and descended to the basement level. Upon reaching the lower 39th floor, the elevator doors parted, revealing warriors clad in thick plate armor that shielded every inch of their bodies. As she moved past, they bowed deeply and stepped to the side.

At the end of the hall stood a steel door, secured by another keypad. Bee knocked on the door three times, waited for a two-second count, and then knocked twice more. Swiping her keycard, the door emitted a loud click, unlocking.

Upon entering the room, a guard stood nearby with a heavy belt-fed machine gun, accompanied by a slender Labtech holding a clipboard. The space was cramped, housing several round plexisteel cylinders filled with a vivid green liquid. In the center of the room, the Gansfield Generator was mounted in a steel cabinet.

“We need total silence,” Sabine and Estelle said. “Any disturbances will shatter the already overworked circuit boards, and if that happens. We lose.”

The guard stood at attention and said in a mechanical voice augmented by the mask he was wearing, “I will protect you with my life.”

The Labtech, weakly nodded.

Bee pulled out her multitool from her belt and used it to open the side panel of the machine. Then she removed the secondary layer of shielding.

“Tech! We require an ID10-t chip,” Bee ordered.

“At once Queen Bee,” he said as he bowed and ran to the cabinet.

Bee then pulled out blade portion of her multitool and gingerly lifted the corner of the burnt chip. Her sight told her that two more chips were in the process of failing and needed to be replaced.

“Bring us two more chips,” she shouted.

Once the clip was halfway free, she pulled it out the rest of the way with her fingers.

“One down, three to go,” she sighed.

The next chip proved easier to remove, and as she lifted it, an explosion reverberated through the walls and floor. Pressing the chip to another section of the board, an electric shock surged through her, accompanied by a black cloud of ozone. The memories of people and their deaths engulfed her mind.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bee and Estelle declared, closing her eyes.

Bee took her scalpel, placing its tip to her temple, and wiggled it around, deadening circuits and neural pathways in her mind.

“Where is our chip?” she yelled.

Hearing no reply, Bee looked up from her work only to find the door blown open. The guard struggled with a wire wrapped around his neck as he dangled from the ceiling, lifeless. The assistant's head had been severed; its hue turned an ominous shade of blue.

Bee blinked a few times, but all that met her gaze was an eerie emptiness. A blue smoke cloud billowed through the doorway, accompanied by the resounding echoes of gunfire from the hallway. Bee cautiously stepped back, tightly clutching her scalpel.

From the thickness of the smoke, a pair of purple glowing eyes materialized. Soon after, a woman with white hair emerged, surrounded by shadowy tendrils that twisted around her body and clothes. In her hands, the woman gripped a pair of katar punch daggers, still stained with blood from her recent kill.

Bee started to close her eyes, but the woman disappeared from her vision.

“No, she didn’t turn invisible, where did she go?” Bee asked and noticed that her severed arm was on the floor.

Her mind still didn’t register the shock from the attack. A loud crack echoed through the room, creating a dent in the wall behind her. Bee had just enough time to turn and look at the white-haired woman before she disappeared once again. Blinking her eyes, Bee slowly came to the realization that she was now on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling.

"As I suspected, Red is using a Gansfield Generator to resurrect their fallen,” Estelle said as she strolled past. "Someone, kindly procure a Rose Coil so that I may properly dismantle this infernal contraption."

Bee closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she found herself in what seemed like purgatory.

***

Sabine stumbled into the house, hastily slamming the door behind her as the voices from Gansfield generator’s information dump grew louder. With a wave of her hand, she managed to suppress the cacophony to a dull whisper. Knowing she couldn't simply burn off the intrusive thoughts, Sabine understood it would take months of psychological therapy to return to a somewhat normal state.

Reflecting on how she'd burned through her vacation days to participate in the games, Sabine checked her pay balance, only to discover it was a disheartening -1,355.22. Estelle and Sabine sighed deeply, then ascended the stairs to find Gilbert in the bedroom, hurriedly packing a duffel bag.

“What’s going on?” Sabine and Estelle asked hesitantly.

“We already know what he did; he gambled on Red holding the tower and lost,” Estelle replied.

“Shush, I know,” Sabine thought.

“I just need to leave for a bit,” Gilbert said as he shoved his belongings into the bag. “Probably for a month or two.”

Sabine attempted to comfort him, placing her hand on Gilbert’s chest, but he pushed it away.

“How much did you wager?” Estelle and Sabine asked. Gilbert continued packing, stuffing his medical bag inside.

“Are you going to answer me?” Estelle and Sabine pressed.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if you would have done a better job at protecting the Gansfield, Bee,” he said loudly.

Sabine’s eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill. “We did the best we could!” she retorted, fighting back her emotions.

“Like the best you did with our son?” he lashed out. “You’re so useless, Bee! You couldn’t take care of the Gansfield generator, and now I've got angry bookies breathing down my throat.”

Gilbert pushed her away, and Sabine, now alone, felt the voices in her head grow louder, overlapping with visions of violence. “Are we in trouble?” Estelle and Sabine asked. Gilbert silenced them with a gesture.

“Shh, don’t say another word,” Gilbert replied. “As long as you give the bookies something…they won’t hurt you. I’ll see what I can send back once I get to the Schafer colony.”

“So…you are leaving us?” Estelle and Sabine asked, stepping in front of him.

“There’s no 'us' right now; now move!” Gilbert snapped, pushing Estelle to the floor. “I don’t want to fight right now.”

The voices intensified in Sabine's head as she dug her fingernails into her temples. Gilbert turned to grab his duffle bag, and as he did, Sabine felt something in her pocket—a syringe filled with a Class 7 paralytic. Pulling off the protective cap, she stood up.

“Do…you love me?” Estelle and Sabine asked in unison.

The syringe's plunger pressed against Sabine's thumb, and the voices subsided.

"Not right now, Bee. I don’t have time for this," Gilbert responded.

Sabine walked over to him, jabbing the needle into the side of his neck. The liquid quickly numbed his nerves.

“You will love me!” she shouted as he hit the floor.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, his eyes glazed over.

She stood over him, a sapphire scalpel in hand, her eyes vacant.

“Don’t worry, mama will take care of you,” she said.

***