A sultry murmur stirred me from deep sleep, snapping my consciousness awake.
I blinked, recognizing the room—Lemon's bedroom. Beside me, as expected, was Lemon, sound asleep and stark naked.
"…Right," I muttered, the pieces falling into place.
Last night, with only three days left before Shadow-Mirror's rebellion, Vindel had abruptly ordered me to take a full day's leave. Amid the final push, I'd tried to refuse, but he insisted I'd been overworking. "Rest up and be in top shape for the rebellion," he'd said, leaving no room for argument. Lemon, given the same orders, and I had seized the rare chance to spend time as lovers, leading to this moment.
I absently stroked Lemon's hair as she slept, whispering, "It's almost time."
We'd spared no effort preparing for the rebellion. From stealing El Eins units from Albert Gray's group to gathering intel from DC remnants and resistance factions, we'd raided every untraceable organization we could. My spatial storage was stuffed with pilfered firearms, explosives, and gold bars I hadn't told Vindel about.
Vindel's connection with Graien Grassman had panned out, a testament to his political savvy. His subordinate, Kenneth Garrett, was another story—his condescending attitude was palpable in our brief meetings. He reminded me of Ziebel, my officer school同期. Ziebel might end up like him… if this world doesn't get wiped out by the Aerogators first. In a world with no certain future, that was a grim thought.
Thanks to Grassman, Fremont Industry, and Z&R, our supply worries were gone, but we'd kept raiding unreportable targets for extra resources. The result: roughly 500 PTs and AMs, plus over 600 units including fighters and tanks. Still, factoring in losses from this world's doomed battles and failed dimensional transfers, we'd likely arrive in the other world with 200–300 units, as in the original timeline.
Vindel's political maneuvering had also secured some Federation soldiers who'd join us when the time came—sleeper agents, so to speak.
"Nn, Axel?" Lemon stirred, awakened by my touch, her eyes hazy with sleep.
"Hey, you're up," I said. "Go shower. It'll wake you up."
"Yeah, okay," she mumbled, trudging to the shower, still groggy and not bothering to cover herself. Could she at least throw on a towel?
The Trilobite-class fleet, originally planned for three ships, had grown to five, thanks to my input. Once the rebellion began, we'd abandon this base, and those five ships—Gyanland and its sisters—would become our strongholds. Vindel's supply network meant we wouldn't want for resources.
"Hey, Axel," Lemon called, emerging from the shower wrapped in just a towel. "What's with all those packages addressed to you?"
"Oh, those?" I said. "Once the rebellion starts, my identity will be exposed, and my bank accounts and movements will be tracked. So I withdrew all my funds and bought everything useful I could. Vindel was stunned by the haul, but when I said we'd be too busy to shop later, he got it."
"You can't fit all that in your Gyanland quarters," Lemon said. "I don't want to open your door and get buried in an avalanche."
I grinned, activating my spatial storage. "Forgot about this? It's all in here. Packed in a hurry, so most are still boxed."
"That thing's incredible," Lemon said. "As a scientist, the slime fascinates me, but for daily life? I'd pick the storage. Unlimited capacity, mental inventory, instant access, and time frozen inside? Most scientists would dissect you for that."
"Don't say creepy stuff, lady scientist," I teased.
"I said most scientists," she shot back with a smile.
"Speaking of science," I said, "I forgot to ask—what happened with Lykeios?"
"Lykeios? It's done," Lemon said. "I stepped away mid-development, though."
"Stepped away?"
"I can't exactly prep a rebellion and develop a transfer device simultaneously," she said.
Fair point. Still, for the world transfer, I'd hoped she'd stay involved with Lykeios.
"Agieus was a cross-shaped device," I said. "Is Lykeios similar?"
"No, it's quite different," she said. "It's four monolithic units placed in a square. Together, they're called Lykeios."
Four monoliths—good to know. In the original timeline, Lykeios was barely mentioned during my transfer, with no details on its form. This was a lucky break.
"Hey, Axel, why don't you shower?" Lemon said. "Unless you want to keep last night's scent."
"…Right," I said, catching her meaning and heading to the shower.
After a hot shower, I returned to a savory aroma. On the table was a textbook breakfast: sunny-side-up eggs, thick bacon, salad, bread, and tea.
"Let's eat," Lemon said.
"You can cook?" I blurted, earning a light pinch to my side.
"This barely counts as cooking," she said. "Sit."
I sat across from her. "Let's dig in."
"Thanks," I said, taking a bite. The eggs were perfectly runny, the bacon juicy but not overdone. I preferred this to crispy bacon—more texture. Wait, how does she know my tastes?
"Hey, Lemon," I said. "Did I ever tell you my food preferences?"
"Nope," she said.
"Then who did?"
"Fiona," she said. "Well, less 'told' and more 'bragged.' She saw it in a letter you sent Dr. Fell. Showed it off to me. You're quite popular."
I vaguely recalled mentioning it in a letter to Dr. Fell years ago. "Yeah, we go way back," I said. "After Dr. Fell died and Dr. Montague was killed by Albert Gray, I was the closest thing those four had to a guardian, despite being barely older."
"And now that guardian's starting a rebellion," Lemon said. "You okay with that?"
"Yeah," I said. "They're grown now. They'll manage. Though I'm a bit worried."
"About what?"
"Raul and Mizuho have a good vibe—won't be long before they're a couple. But Raj and Fiona? No romantic spark."
In the original timeline, Raj and Fiona became lovers, but here, they're just close friends. Fiona's nurturing streak should make Raj her prime target, but there's no hint of it.
"Raj and Fiona getting boyfriends or girlfriends? Who knows when," I said.
Lemon clutched her head, looking down. "Axel…"
"What? You sick?" I asked. With the rebellion days away, the Tech Team's leader catching a cold would be a disaster—maybe even delaying us.
"No, I'm fine," she said. "I just… I know you're like this."
"Good, as long as you're okay," I said.
And so, our final day of peace passed in a warm, tranquil haze.