Day 7 — Day 1/3

Fiona had been waiting long enough to move from impatient to angry. The Riverstone Trail didn’t help. It was quiet, pretty, and too good at pretending it wasn’t some construct made by the system. Cold morning air moved along the river, wet stone darkened the trail edges, and somewhere farther down the valley water struck rock with a steady sound that would have been relaxing if Fiona had been anywhere else.

She had already stretched twice by the time the door set into the rock wall opened behind her. Van came through at a run, already sweating, and bent with his hands on his thighs for one breath before forcing himself upright.

“Sorry.” His hair was damp around the temples, and his face had the gray, rubbed-thin look of someone whose body was worn down. “I went to Riverside Trail by accident.”

Fiona stared at him. “Since when is there a Riverside?”

“Apparently since this morning. Or last night.” He gestured vaguely behind himself. “Or the building decided it wanted one while I was looking at the sign. I don’t know. I got the trail wrong.”

The Hotel had rearranged itself often enough that Fiona couldn’t even accuse him of inventing the place. It didn’t make her less irritated. “You made me wait.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He stopped there. Fiona watched for the excuse that usually followed an apology, but none came. Winner’s Eye supplied other information instead. Van was tired enough to be sloppy: his reactions were slower than normal, his shoulders had not loosened from the night before, and yesterday’s training soreness still lived in his back and legs. The fatigue around his eyes was worse than any of that.

He hadn’t slept. Fiona had noticed at breakfast; here, with no one else to divide her attention, it was impossible to miss. Lizzy had been alone with him last night. He had somehow gotten a kiss out of her, and then apparently stayed awake until morning. Fiona’s thoughts moved in directions she did not appreciate.

“What kept you awake?”

Van’s attention shifted toward the trail. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“That usually has a reason.”

“Yeah.” He left the reason where it was.

Fiona almost pushed. Then she remembered another private conversation and Van asking who had hurt her, treating pain like a door he could open. She realized she didn’t want to hear him make up an excuse.

She folded her arms instead. “Do you understand why I’m angry?”

“Yes. I made you wait.”

“That’s part of it. Naomi refused breakfast after nearly draining Katherine in her sleep. Verena warned her, Naomi didn’t obey quickly enough, and the System put a collar on her.” Fiona touched two fingers to her own throat. “You get lost on the way to an approved training session and nothing happens. No punishment. No lecture. No automatic correction because you are the Master.”

Van glanced down the empty valley before answering. “It isn’t fair. I’m not asking you to forgive it because I agree with you. I got the trail wrong; that’s on me. The rest of this mess isn’t.”

The answer did nothing to soothe her, but at least he hadn’t tried to turn his privilege into innocence. Fiona held his gaze a moment longer. “You still wasted my time.”

“Yes. And I am sorry for that.”

She let the answer stand, then jerked her chin toward the trail. “Fine. Show me your warmup.”

Van blinked. “Ok, it’s nothing special.”

He rolled his shoulders, swung his arms forward and back, bent at the waist to reach toward his shoes, then lifted one knee toward his chest and nearly lost his balance. Fiona’s expression stopped him before the routine could become stranger.

“Your face is saying a lot right now,” he said.

“You’ve collected random things you’ve seen other people do.”

He accepted the observation with enough good humor that Fiona almost kept going. Then the obvious question caught up with her. “Didn’t you listen to any of your coaches?”

Van went quieter. “My last year in school was sixth grade. I didn’t finish it.”

She suddenly remembered the story Evelyn had shared. There weren’t a lot of details, but the homelessness, the facilities, the memory loss. She was forced to admit she had been careless.

She allowed him a small nod, then jumped back in, “Ok then, what did you do for exercise?”

“I ran when I could.”

“How?”

Van pointed down the trail. “Leave the apartment. Run until I got tired. Turn around. Run back.”

Fiona waited, then realized that was the whole plan. “Are you serious?”

“I wasn’t exactly training for the Olympics.”

She exhaled through her nose and walked to a flat section beside the trail. “Come here.”

This time she started over with less contempt in her voice and more detail in her hands. She showed him how she loosened joints before loading them, how to raise his heart rate without wasting too much energy, and how a stretch could prepare a muscle instead of simply pulling on it.

Van listened. She expected him to complain or question how she was doing it. But, he didn’t. When she told him a movement was wrong, he stopped and did it again. Fiona was used to coaching people who knew enough to resist correction because they had habits; Van knew almost nothing and responded by paying attention.

It should have made the lesson easier. Instead, she started to wonder why he was so agreeable. He had spent last night alone with Lizzy, somehow gotten the shyest woman in the Hotel to kiss him, earned her enough points to tie for first place, then emerged the next morning exhausted, apologetic, and perfectly willing to let Fiona order him around. A young man did not need much reason to be agreeable after a night like that.

Fiona stepped back. “Good enough. Start slow.”

Van rolled his shoulders once more, this time the way she had shown him, and they ran.

---------------------------------

Cassie stopped in the doorway of the training center with the others behind her.

“Naturally,” she muttered with a broad gesture.

The entire indoor hall had been replaced by blue water, white tile, lane markers, an artificial shallow shore, and a deeper section wide enough for the word pool to feel inadequate. Machinery waited behind glass walls at the far end beneath a sign that read WAVE CONTROL. Alpha stood near the water with both arms raised, blonde twin tails bouncing as she greeted them.

“Good morning, swimmers!”

Naomi looked from Alpha to the water. “The timing is somewhat suspicious.”

“The facility did most of the heavy lifting.” Alpha lowered her arms and leaned toward them conspiratorially. “I heard everyone wanted to go swimming and just couldn’t help myself.”

Claire frowned. “You weren’t there. How’d you hear about it?”

“I may have been watching the monitor,” her smile turned sheepish for a bare instant before returning to its previous halogen brightness.

“I don’t eat, but I love group meals.” For a fraction of a second the smile softened. “The Van-droids are poor company.” Then Alpha clapped once and pivoted back to the subject at hand. “You discussed swimming. I already had aquatic survival on the training schedule, so I moved it forward.”

Naomi lifted one hand. “I said swimming sounded better than an onsen. That was not the same thing as wanting to swim.”

Alpha was already turning toward the pool. “Water rescue is a small part of hero work overall, but it is a very bad time to discover you never learned it properly. Today we cover difficult water and rescue techniques that will teach you how to not turn one drowning person into two.”

“Practical, then,” Evelyn said, studying the pool.

“Very. With one small organizational improvement.”

Pale words appeared above the tile.

TEAM ONE PIECE - 3 Members

TEAM TWO PIECE - 4 Members

“Choose a team, ladies. I originally wanted shirts vs. skins,” she rolled her eyes and continued, “but some uptight press secretary of a boss said no.”

“Dibs!” Cassie practically yelled, jumping forward to stand under the sign for team one piece.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she tugged pointedly at the hem of her shorts trying vainly to cover the bottom curve of her ass.

Eyes turned expectantly to Naomi. No one was moving until she made a decision.

“If no one minds, I’m joining team one piece too.” Her voice was quiet and almost apologetic.

“Of course, Naomi,” Evelyn answered immediately. “We understand. I’ll take a spot on team two piece.”

“Me too,” said Mara. They walked more calmly than Cassie did to stand under the sign.

Claire and Lizzy looked at each other briefly. Each deciding what the other wanted. Before they could act, they were surprised to hear Katherine speak.

“I will also take team one piece,” she moved under the sign confidently.

Claire turned to Alpha. “Obviously that leave Lizzy and me for team two piece, but why are the teams uneven/

“They aren’t!” She pointed at the locker rooms. “Change into your suits ladies. I have everything under control.”

------------------------------------------

The locker room had benches, bright mirrors, and rows of lockers. Naomi stopped just inside. Katherine glanced at her and then moved to the suits waiting under their names.

Naomi’s deep-blue one-piece was modest by swimsuit standards but left her shoulders, arms, much of her back, and all of her legs exposed. Power Valve responded before she touched the fabric, not by activating but by loosening some invisible resistance beneath her skin.

Cassie lifted her own black athletic one-piece and inspected it with open suspicion. “This looks normal.”

“Give it time,” Claire said.

“Hey! Don’t jinx me,” she stretched the material between her hands. “Maybe this time it won’t?”

Across the room, Lizzy held a violet two-piece against herself. Her hands were steady until she noticed they were steady, and then the carnival returned in pieces: missing underwear at the entrance, her blouse disappearing in the water, the bra beginning to phase in the mirror that morning. Mara stood nearby without crowding her.

Lizzy took a breath and dismissed the memories. “I’ll be fine. I’m not embarrassed by swimsuits as long as they aren’t ridiculous.”

“Good,” Mara said. “Besides, that’s going to look great on you.”

Behind them, Alpha began taking off her training uniform. Cassie looked over with her shirt halfway above her stomach and stopped.

Alpha saw her staring, “What’s the problem? We’re all girls here.”

“You used that excuse the first time.”

Alpha pulled the top over her head, and conversation thinned. Her body was feminine, smooth, and nearly human in proportion, but the resemblance ended under scrutiny. There were no nipples, no ordinary scars, no visible pores at this distance. The surface of her skin joined itself too perfectly around the chest and abdomen, and when she removed the rest of the uniform the absence lower down was just as complete.

Naomi looked despite herself. Several of the others did too. Alpha followed their attention down her own body, apparently checking what had caught them.

“What?”

Claire recovered first. “You really are mechanical.”

“Gynoid,” Alpha corrected. She opened a locker and took out a red lifeguard swimsuit. “Feminine artificial humanoid. Android is traditionally male-coded. Technical accuracy matters.”

Cassie lowered her shirt again. “You correct people on that?”

“If you’re going to objectify me,” she leered at Cassie, “at least use the right vocabulary.”

Mara laughed into one hand. Naomi glanced down again before she could stop herself. “You really don’t have…”

“No. None of the ordinary reproductive equipment.” Alpha stepped into the lifeguard suit without embarrassment. “Trust me. It’s a bigger disappointment to me than a shock to you.”

Evelyn folded her own clothes with deliberate neatness. “You understand that your lack of embarrassment does not create privacy for everyone else.”

Alpha paused. “Here at the Hotel, we have a huge budget for almost anything you can think of. Privacy isn’t on the menu.”

“I’ve found that out. Repeatedly,” Cassie said.

“Learning is a process.”

Alpha pulled the lifeguard suit into place and reached for a whistle. Lizzy, still changing with her back angled toward the room, glanced over.

“Can you actually go down underwater?”

“Absolutely, I am especially suited to going down.”

Lizzy definitely ignored the lewd distraction. “Were you built for it?”

“No.” Alpha’s hands slowed on the whistle cord. “I was a lifeguard before the System found me.”

Claire turned fully around. Mara watched her more carefully now. “Before?” Claire asked.

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?” Mara asked.

Alpha hooked the whistle around her neck and smiled. “It means changing time is nearly over. Swimsuits, Miss Ellison.”

She gave them nothing else. Cassie looked down instead and discovered that Cover Girl had used the distraction productively. Her sensible black one-piece still qualified if a person was feeling charitable, but the legs had pulled higher over her hips, the back had dropped, and the fabric hugged her more tightly than it had a minute ago.

“God damn it.”

Katherine glanced over once.

Cassie caught her. “Don’t.”

Alpha blew the whistle before the argument could take off. “Pool!”

They filed out of the locker room into the training room in an irregular line.

A side door opened, and the aquatic Van-droid stepped through wearing a bright blue Speedo. Cassie’s groan joined several others. Lizzy went scarlet and became abruptly fascinated by the far wall, while one loose curl of Claire’s hair drifted toward the droid, hovered halfway there, and settled back against her shoulder. Claire touched it suspiciously.

“Look,” Alpha chirped. “The rest of team one piece is ready as well.”

Cassie pointed at the droid. “No. That is not what one-piece means.”

Alpha looked from the Speedo to Cassie. “It is one piece.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Cassie,” Alpha leaned in with a serious look on her face. “I’m mechanical, not dead. I’d do that on purpose any time.”

Katherine walked past them toward the pool. “You will not win this argument.”

“I’m not trying to win,” Cassie muttered as she followed. “I’m just saying she needs to be on a registry or something.”

------------------------------------

Fiona set a pace Van could have exceeded immediately. That was the point. They ran with the river to their left and a low slope rising on the right, the trail changing underfoot from packed soil to gravel and then to broad dark stones slick with spray. Van stayed beside her without trying to pull ahead.

After several minutes he looked over. “Why are we going this slow?”

“Because training isn’t proving you can suffer.” Fiona waited until they cleared a bend before continuing. “You have one speed when you run by yourself: keep going until you’re tired. That teaches you exactly one thing. You need to know the pace you can maintain, what your legs feel like before they’re gone, and where you’re wasting motion. You train with restraint so that if you ever have to run for your life, you still know where the rest of your strength is.”

The trail started climbing, and she shortened her stride. Van adjusted to match. “That makes sense. I had to learn something like that with my hands.”

Fiona glanced over. Van held one hand in front of himself, large palm and thick fingers catching the gray morning light.

“When I was younger, if I tried to do something small the same way I did everything else, I ruined it.”

“What kind of small?”

“Model kits as an example.” His expression soured at the memory. “Tiny plastic pieces. I snapped three before I figured out I had to stop using so much arm movement.” He thought for a moment, “I also cracked cheap furniture by leaning on it wrong.”

“That sounds like cheap furniture.”

“Probably. But eventually you learn not to put your full weight into everything just because you can.”

Fiona understood the lesson. Winner’s Eye supplied context she had not asked for: his size, the strength test, the way terror had stripped away his restraint during the Alter demonstration until she had nearly lost her grip on him. The comparison was unfair and still arrived fast enough to affect her stride.

Van noticed. “What?”

“Nothing. Just run.”

He let the subject go. The quiet lasted through the next rise and part of the descent, long enough for his new technique to begin replacing bad habits. He stopped overstriding on the inclines and attacking every hill like a personal challenge. When Fiona changed pace, he followed without making the adjustment into a contest.

Her dislike was plain. She watched him constantly, but only out of the corner of her eye. Every time he tried to copy something she was doing, she let out a small angry breath. And each time, he struggled, a dark smile toyed with the corner of her mouth.

Eventually he asked, “If you dislike me this much, why are you here?”

“You asked me to teach you.”

“I know why I’m here. Why did you agree?”

Fiona had several answers ready: the challenge debt, his bad form, the possibility that the System intended to drag him into the field with them, the simple professional irritation of watching someone waste physical ability because no one had ever taught him what to do with it. None fully explained why she had agreed.

The question found places she had not organized. “What are you trying to do?”

Van’s brow furrowed. “Right now?”

“With us,” she demanded.

He breathed out through his nose, but Fiona pushed before he could answer. “You wait. You let the Hotel do the pressure for you, and you stay polite while the rules keep making your position easier than ours. You tricked Lizzy into earning eight points in one night. Or the system did, which amounts to the same. You don’t have to order anyone around. Why would you, when the setup does the work?”

“That isn’t what happened with Lizzy.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

Van stopped. Fiona made it several steps before turning and found him in the middle of the trail, exhausted and furious.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Talk about her like she’s small. You need her to be a victim to justify the way you feel about something that should have been private.”

“She suddenly decided to earn all those points just because you’re so charming?” Fiona squared her shoulders, “You had nothing to do with it? She couldn’t help herself but to start making out with you.”

“She kissed me.” His voice rose hard enough to carry over the river. “She chose it. You can be mad about the points, the Hotel, or me for being there, but you don’t get to make Lizzy stupid because you hate what she did.”

Van took an angry step toward her, and Fiona’s body prepared before her thoughts caught up. Her feet set and her weight shifted. Van saw it immediately. His attention dropped to her stance and he stopped where he was.

“I’m not going to hit you.”

“I didn’t say you were. You were shouting and walking at me.”

“You’re right about the shouting.” Van stepped back and dragged a hand over his face. The anger remained, but he kept his distance. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I am still angry with you.”

Fiona gave him a humorless laugh. “Good. Don’t pretend you feel bad now.”

“I’m not. I can be angry and still not want to scare you.” He put both hands behind his head, “This is what I’m talking about. You assume the worst version of everything I do. I don’t like this anger. I don’t want us to be enemies.”

She wanted to reject that answer and could not find the clean edge. “Then what do you want me to do? Believe you?”

“No. I want you to stop deciding what people’s motivations are without talking to them. Ask Lizzy what she did and then decide what it means. If you don’t, you don’t. I can’t make you.”

The tiredness had returned to his voice. Fiona stepped closer, not enough to threaten, enough to force him to hear her without the river carrying pieces away.

“You stand in the middle of this place and every rule bends around the fact that you’re the Master. Even when you hate it, you benefit from it. Even if you are a decent man, just being in that position can hurt us.”

Van opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Fiona kept going. “That’s the part everyone keeps trying to skip. Evelyn can tell me you’re frightened. Mara can tell me you’re trying. None of that changes what happens around you. The System rewards us for getting close to you. It punishes us in ways it does not punish you. Every time I start separating Van from Master, the Hotel gives me another reason not to.”

“I know,” he said.

Fiona’s temper flared at the simplicity of it. “Do you? Because from where I stand, you get to hate the title and still receive everything attached to it.”

Van’s answer came sharper. “And from where I stand, every decent thing I do can be called strategy because the Hotel put a word over my head before you met me. I can’t prove a negative to you, Fiona. I can’t make the point system stop, and I couldn’t make Verena treat Naomi fairly. I can be responsible for what I actually do. That’s all I have.”

She had an answer ready before he finished, then another behind it. The argument pushed them back and forth until Fiona realized Van had stopped trying to interrupt every accusation. He stood in the cold air, breathing harder from the run and the shouting, and waited through each thought before deciding whether it required an answer.

“What?” she demanded when the silence became irritating.

“I spent enough time with angry people to know when arguing just gives people more to fight.” He rubbed at the side of his neck. “So say what you need to say. I’ll answer what I can when you’re done.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“I know.”

The power in Fiona’s chest stirred. Her voice had always been a physical sensation; pressure built beneath her sternum and climbed into her throat, the familiar prelude to sound becoming force. Van caught the change in her posture but did not brace or move away.

Fiona knew exactly what a scream would do from this distance. Winner’s Eye mapped the open trail behind him, his exhausted footing, the time he would need to react. She swallowed instead. The pressure burned on the way down, and her next breath came rough enough that Van’s eyes stayed on her face.

“What do you want from us?” she asked, quieter than before. “From me. You keep saying you aren’t doing anything. Fine. What are you waiting for? What do you actually want me to do?”

She was tired of holding every possible future in front of herself at once: him, Verena, the rules, the pretty rooms that offered something useful and expected everyone to forget the bars. For one ugly second she wanted him to stop making her guess.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Whatever you think this gets you. Say it.”

Van studied her, then turned around and started running.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He kept moving. Fiona ran after him, caught up in several strides, and matched his pace automatically.

“You asked what I wanted,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Running advice. I came because I run badly. You know how to run well, and you taught me.” He shortened his stride over a patch of loose gravel the way she had shown him. “I know that isn’t what you meant. I just don’t have another answer for you.”

They ran several more steps before he added, “You don’t have to stay.”

Fiona slowed. Van did not. She came to a stop in the middle of the trail and watched him continue along the river without turning around. His stride was still wrong in two places she could see from behind; he was also correcting a third on his own.

The trail bent and took him behind the trees. Fiona stayed where she was, listening to the river and the fading rhythm of his feet until she could no longer hear which was which.

-----------------------------------

Alpha kept the lecture short and the water moving. The first waves were barely more than heavy swells; by the time the group learned to stop planting their feet against every push, the system had enough force to shove Cassie several steps sideways when she tried to overpower it.

“Stop fighting the whole thing!” Alpha called.

Cassie surfaced with wet hair across her face. “It started it.”

“Water doesn’t care about blame.” Alpha let the next swell carry her two steps, then corrected when the force passed. “Save strength for the movement that changes something. If the water is already taking you somewhere harmless, let it. Move when your movement matters.”

The lesson became repetition rather than lecture. Evelyn learned the rhythm quickly. Mara relaxed once she understood that yielding a step was part of the technique rather than failure. Lizzy kept bracing too early until Alpha reached her before another swell.

“Breathe first.”

Recognition loosened Lizzy’s shoulders. She inhaled, held, and exhaled. The wave reached her; she moved with it, then recovered after it passed. Alpha pointed approvingly and moved on without making the moment larger.

Rescue technique came next. The aquatic Van-droid entered the water to another shared murmur about the Speedo, which Alpha ignored.

“A panicking victim is dangerous to a rescuer,” she said. “They grab, climb, push. They are trying to get air, their desperation makes them dangerous.”

The droid lunged at her. Alpha turned with the grab instead of meeting it head-on, slipped around the reaching arm, and secured the droid from behind. When it thrashed, she let the worst movement spend itself against the water before shifting her hold.

“Don’t let their panic overwhelm your calm. Sometimes the correct thing is to back off and let them settle.”

Cassie frowned. “That sentence feels suspiciously philosophical for swimming class.”

“Most useful things do when you say them dramatically.”

Alpha released the droid. Then she stepped onto the surface of the pool.

Water flattened beneath her bare foot. Before Claire could finish opening her mouth, Alpha took another step and a small swell formed behind her without help from the generators. It lifted and rolled forward, carrying her across the pool in a smooth curve. She bent one knee and surfed the artificial wave with the delighted posture of someone showing off a favorite trick.

Cassie stared. “What?”

Alpha stepped off the swell and sank beneath the surface. She didn’t kick or stroke. Water curled along her body and drew her forward, turning her underwater before lifting her in a clean vertical line beside Evelyn.

Claire pointed. “You have powers.”

Alpha put both hands over her chest. “I’m custom designed,” she replied with a wink.

“That answers a different question,” Evelyn said.

Alpha shrugged. “It’s still relevant.”

Mara studied her. “Are you Empowered?”

Alpha smiled. “How could I be? I’m mechanical?”

“You were a lifeguard before the System found you,” Claire said. “Now you can move water. What happened to you?”

Alpha held Claire’s gaze for half a beat, then raised the stopwatch. “Practical assessment time! Two rescuers, two victims. Cross the pool, secure your partner, return, then switch. Fastest performance wins.”

Team Two Piece went first. The drill moved quickly enough that no one had time to turn it into a spectacle. Claire attempted to use telekinesis to reduce drag and received an immediate whistle blast. Mara swallowed water once and recovered. Lizzy forgot to move with a wave, corrected on the next one, and finished her return with every part of her swimsuit still where it belonged.

Then Team One Piece entered the water.

Naomi stood beside the Van-droid. The resemblance was close enough to be uncomfortable and wrong enough to prevent it from becoming familiar. Alpha came over and tapped the droid lightly on one synthetic shoulder.

“You two are partners.”

“Because it isn’t alive?” Naomi asked.

“Because it is safe enough for a control failure. If you slip, we learn here instead of learning on Miss Lin or Miss Wren.”

Naomi looked toward Cassie and Katherine. Neither objected. She disliked the reason and appreciated it anyway. “Fine.”

First round, Naomi played the victim. The droid reached her in the middle of the pool and secured a rescue hold beneath her shoulders. Synthetic skin pressed against her bare arm and upper back, and her power woke at once.

Don’t pull. Don’t want. Don’t need. Don’t take.

The old sequence ran through her thoughts while the droid towed her toward the wall. Her one-piece left enough skin exposed that Power Valve felt less like a locked fist than it once had. The drain pressed toward contact, but Naomi could feel the boundary now and hold it. A wave passed under them; the contact continued; nothing opened.

When the droid brought her to the wall, Alpha clicked the stopwatch. “Not bad. Now switch.”

Naomi put both feet down in the shallows as Cassie arrived nearby with Katherine. “You good?” Cassie asked.

She nodded, “I’m fine. This much coverage is manageable.”

Cassie accepted the answer and turned toward the next round.

They switched roles. Naomi pushed away from the wall and swam toward the droid, fitting herself into the rhythm Alpha had drilled into them: stroke, breath, wave, recover. She reached the droid, moved behind it, and fitted her arm across its upper torso.

She braced herself for a great weight, but the construct wasn’t heavier than a human body. Naomi shook off the surprise and began towing the false Van. She fought the first wave for two useless strokes before remembering the lesson. She let the water carry them sideways, corrected after it passed, and gained distance. Her shoulder started burning with the unfamiliar weight and the distraction kept her from predicting the next wave.

She was pulled under briefly. For one second, controlling her power dropped behind everything else.

The drain opened.

The Van-droid jerked in her hold. Naomi gasped as something moved through the contact—she clenched her grip trying to get above water. When she tightened her grip, the power roared to life.

Unlike the heavy sensation of drain she was used to while she was fighting against her own power, this feeling was mercury quick and electric. It was her power set loose, free of the leash for the first time since childhood as she flailed for breath.

Energy rushed into her. Her burning shoulder stopped hurting; her lungs opened; the fatigue from the swim vanished so abruptly that her next kick drove both bodies forward harder than she intended. The droid went slack, and Naomi’s head broke the water.

One second became several as she oriented herself.

The world sharpened.

Alpha crossed the pool by simply running across the bucking surface. Water rose beneath her feet in quick steps; she dipped a hand and swept the arm sideways. A band of water curled around the droid’s torso, ripping the construct cleanly out of Naomi’s hold.

Contact broke. Naomi staggered in the water while the droid slid across the surface and stopped beside Alpha with its eyes dark.

Cassie moved one step into the shallows. “Naomi?”

Naomi looked down at her hands. Her breathing had already recovered. Her shoulder should have hurt and her legs should have carried the dull heaviness of the drill, but every muscle felt fresh and ready.

Katherine stayed where she was, giving Naomi room. “What happened?”

“I drained it.”

Claire looked toward the limp droid. “But it’s a machine.”

Alpha knelt beside it and pressed two fingers beneath its collarbone. “It is a machine built to imitate a living body extremely well. Circulation analogues, responsive energy distribution, synthetic tissue systems. Enough life-pattern behavior that your power apparently recognizes it as a valid target.”

“So I can drain machines now?” Naomi asked.

“I wouldn’t expect a car to interest your ability at all.” She looked at Naomi with a bit of reproach, “Machines like this are much closer to a person than a vehicle.”

The distinction did little for Naomi. She flexed one hand beneath the water. Nothing unfamiliar answered—no borrowed electrical discharge, no new technique—yet the energy remained inside her, clean and physical. The effort of the drill had been erased. She had more stamina now than she had before she touched the droid.

The discovery reached backward through every accident and every lesson built around stopping as fast as possible. Her childhood had taught her the only moral goal that mattered: end contact immediately. Her power got worse and worse the longer she maintained contact. She had lived that rule so completely that she had never allowed herself to learn what happened on her side of the exchange.

She knew now.

Cassie came one step closer and stopped before entering reach. Naomi saw the distance without needing to look for it. Everyone in the Hotel had learned where to stop around her. No one looked disgusted; the concern was harder to endure.

Alpha stood again, the water settling around her ankles. “Assessment paused.”

Naomi looked at her. “Did you know this would happen?”

Alpha’s smile did not arrive immediately. “No. It was always a possibility, but no.”

Naomi’s fingers curled beneath the water. The reserve inside her remained, and for the first time since childhood she had crossed the line she had spent years treating as the edge of disaster.

Her body felt rested. Alert. Strong enough to keep going.

Naomi opened her hand again before she could decide whether she wanted to know how much more it could hold.