Pt. 082 — Day 9 Mid-day

When Fiona called Van back to the start of the course, the gym no longer looked like a gym. Portable walls divided most of the floor into narrow lanes and blind corners. Low padded barriers stood in for wreckage. A pair of broad foam blocks had been arranged like stalled vehicles with a gap between them barely wide enough to squeeze through at speed. Mats covered the hard floor anywhere Fiona expected him to jump, fall, crawl, or be knocked down.

She had called it a gauntlet because obstacle course wasn't hostile enough.

Van stood at the starting line with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily through his mouth.

Fiona checked the stopwatch. "Last run."

Claire smiled from beside a rack of heavy padded balls. Alpha was stationed on the opposite side of the course with a second rack. She still sat with the exaggerated posture Van had demanded earlier, knees pressed together and both hands over her mouth. The moment Fiona looked away, Alpha fluttered her fingers at him.

Van pointed at her. "You're still doing it." Alpha pressed both palms harder over her lips and widened her eyes innocently.

Fiona refused to turn around. "If we don’t acknowledge her, she can’t win."

Van bent forward and put his hands on his knees for one last breath. His shirt clung damply to his back. His legs felt too heavy. The first few sets had been embarrassing in ordinary ways. There had been bad starts, missed catches, and clumsy footwork. Then he had started improving. After that, Fiona had made everything harder. The barriers moved. The commands came later. Claire and Alpha stopped throwing where he expected them to throw. The route changed every time he learned it.

Van straightened. Fiona lifted the whistle, "Ready?"

Claire rolled one shoulder and lifted a ball while Van nonned and lowered his center of gravity. Fiona blew the whistle, and the course came at him in pieces.

"Right!" Van cut around the first wall and planted his foot. "Left!" He went right instead, drawing an immediate, "Other left!" from Fiona. He swore, corrected, and lost a step before ducking under a padded crossbar hard enough that his shoulder clipped the edge and spun him half sideways.

"CATCH!" Claire threw. Van got both hands up late; the ball collapsed against his chest and almost bounced free before he trapped it. Fiona gave him no time to enjoy the save. "Drop! Over!" He let the ball fall, planted both hands on the next waist-high barrier, and tried the vault Claire had shown him. His arms had less left in them than he expected. He cleared it anyway, landed too far forward, and stumbled three steps before catching himself against one of the false walls.

Fiona kept the whistle down. "Dodge!" Alpha sent a ball low. Van slid sideways and felt it miss his hip by inches. "Forward!" He accelerated, though his legs answered reluctantly, and turned his shoulders to squeeze between the two padded blocks.

"BACK!"

He stopped too late. His shoulder hit the block with a hollow thump. Van backed out while Fiona kept feeding him commands—left, down, then catch—faster than he could settle between them.

Van looked toward Claire, anticipating a throw that never came. That was the mistake.

The ball came from Alpha's side, high and fast enough that Claire reacted first. Her hair lifted away from her shoulders and the padded ball jerked sideways in midair as though something had swatted it, changing course less than a foot from the back of Van's head.

Van moved anyway. He didn't duck. He threw himself to one side, hit the mat across his upper back, rolled with the impact, and came through the motion so quickly that Claire barely followed it. A second later he was braced in a crouch—one hand flat, feet under him, head up, facing Alpha. The change in his face lasted less than a second. Claire had seen Van when he was afraid. She’d even seen him embarrassed and angry.

This was not quite any of those. His lip pulled back. His shoulders bunched. There was something naked in the stare he fixed on Alpha, a kind of fury that arrived before thought.

Alpha's smile vanished, "Master?" She was already moving toward him, the concern on her face immediate and unperformed. Van blinked. The anger disappeared so quickly that Claire wasn’t sure what she actually saw in that moment..

His shoulders dropped. His hands loosened against the mat. He looked at Alpha, then at the ball Claire had knocked aside. "Sorry," he said.

Claire wasn't sure which part he was apologizing for. Fiona's whistle cut across the gym.

"Done."

Van sat back on his heels. "I can finish."

"No." Fiona was already walking toward him. "You're out of steam. Your reactions are getting worse and you're compensating by throwing your whole body at problems. That's useful info, because now we can see where you ran out of juice."

Van got to his feet before she reached him. He didn’t look up. "I need a shower."

Fiona slowed. "Van—"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

The words came too quickly. Claire looked at him. Van rubbed the back of his neck, realized he was doing it, and dropped his hand. "You said break."

"I did."

"So I'm taking one."

Fiona watched him for another moment, then nodded toward the locker rooms. "Go." Van left without another word. The door swung shut behind him. Fiona looked after it. "What was that?"

"I don't know." Claire's attention stayed on the door, "He's tired, I guess."

Fiona gave her a skeptical look. Claire bent to retrieve the ball she had deflected. "You ran him through this for hours. Maybe he hit the point where being studied stopped being fun."

Fiona considered that. Claire put the ball back on the rack before Fiona could ask anything else. "What do the numbers say?"

The question kicked her out of her introspection. She looked down at the clipboard in her hand, her irritation changing shape. She flipped back two pages, then forward again. "His numbers are all over the place. I’m not sure how to interpret all of this."

Alpha appeared at her shoulder. "Give me."

Fiona pulled the clipboard away on reflex, but Alpha held out one hand and gave a demanding little stomp.

Fiona narrowed her eyes. "You can read it from there."

"I can." Alpha smiled. "But taking it from you feels more official."

Fiona gave her the clipboard. Alpha's eyes moved down the page. The smile stayed, but something behind it became more focused.

Claire came closer. "Well?"

Alpha turned one page. Then another. "Master is wonderful."

Fiona's jaw tightened. "Translate that before I puke."

"He has excellent acceleration, strong recovery, and very good balance when he stops thinking. His numbers actually improve with some fatigue.” She scratched idly at her chin while examining the scores. “His reaction time is better than his background should support. Coordination is inconsistent, but the inconsistency is instructional rather than physical."

Fiona folded her arms. "That sounded almost useful." Alpha tapped one of the columns. "His raw scores are high. Not Empowered high, but very high for someone with no formal training history."

"And?" Fiona asked. “This isn’t really news.”

Alpha flipped back to the first page. "And these." She tapped several earlier numbers. "His improvements are small."

Fiona stared at her. "You just said he's learning everything too fast."

Alpha brightened. "That's one of the things that makes Master so special."

Fiona pinched the bridge of her nose. "Use normal words."

Alpha sighed theatrically. "Fine. An ordinary person can improve during a practice session. But fatigue usually hides some of that improvement. You don't generally get cleaner across several unrelated categories while also getting tired."

Fiona pointed at a later column. "But here everything fell apart."

"Because you finally tired him enough that his body was failing, not his instincts." Alpha rested the clipboard against one palm. "The interesting part is where he started and how quickly the numbers moved before that happened."

Fiona frowned. "So what's the answer?"

Alpha looked toward the locker rooms. "I don't have one."

That got Fiona's attention. Alpha smiled again, smaller this time. "I've worked with people who were stronger, faster, more coordinated, more durable, and much better trained. I've worked with people whose bodies could do things Master's body absolutely cannot do." She looked back down at the clipboard.

"I haven't seen this exact pattern before. He looks like somebody with a very high natural ceiling who somehow missed every normal opportunity to learn what his body can do."

Claire thought of Van on all fours. Facing Alpha. Ready for something that had already stopped happening. Fiona took the clipboard back. "Potential."

Her cheerleader smile returned. "Lots of it."

"That's not an explanation,” she groused.

"No." Alpha smiled fondly toward the door. "But it is a lovely problem."

Fiona groaned.

—--------------------

Van shut the locker-room door behind him and leaned against it. The silence helped.

For about three seconds.

"What the hell was that?"

His own voice sounded too loud in the empty room. Van pushed away from the door and pulled his shirt over his head. The fabric stuck between his shoulders before coming free. He threw it onto the bench harder than necessary.

"Great."

He sat to untie his shoes. His hands were still shaking. He never felt so angry so quickly before. Fiona could pull it out of him without trying. Verena’s whole persona could do it professionally. Cassie had nearly set him on fire during their first week and somehow that had turned into one of the simpler relationships in his life. This had been different. For one second he had wanted—

Van stopped. He didn't know what he had wanted. That was worse than knowing. The ball had almost hit him, but he had been hit earlier. Claire had even stopped it this time. Alpha had looked worried. Then whatever had filled his chest had gone out so fast it made him feel ridiculous for having felt it at all.

He stood and crossed to the showers. "She's going to think I’m mad at her."

Water came on overhead. Van stepped beneath it and let the heat hit the back of his neck. "I should apologize."

He scrubbed both hands over his face. "Then she'll decide that's a declaration of love or a marriage proposal or permission to build another robot with my ass."

The last part echoed around the tile. Van closed his eyes. "Okay. Maybe don't apologize alone."

He turned under the spray. Alpha was a social problem, but he didn't think she was a danger. She had protected him when he had his episode. Held him down without hurting him when he had lost control. She listened when he gave her a direct instruction, even if she twisted what he asked for. But something about the way she acted around him was becoming impossible to ignore.

"Maybe I should ask Verena." Van opened his eyes. "Does she even have an office?"

He had never seen one. Of course she probably had one. A ridiculous room somewhere with old books and a fireplace and a chair designed specifically for making people feel guilty.

"Or maybe she just appears when somebody says her name."

A cool voice cut through the rushing patter of the shower. "That would be an unnecessarily theatrical use of my time."

Van nearly slipped on the wet tile. He caught the wall with one hand, turning his head so fast that his body pivoted.

Verena stood on the other side of the glass. Steam covered the locker-room mirrors and fogged most of the shower’s glass. It should have blurred her into a dark shape. It did not. The air immediately around her was clear. Not cleared, exactly. There was no visible current moving the steam away. Moisture simply failed to settle across the portion of glass between Van and Verena, leaving her perfectly visible in her dark morning clothes with both hands folded behind her back.

Van stared at her. "What?" He started, then said, “No. Why?”

Verena's eyebrows rose.

He sputtered, water running down his face as he tried to cover himself. "No. Absolutely not. You don’t get to just be standing there."

She raised one eyebrow in response. "You said you wanted to speak to me."

He hunched inward, both hands cupping himself, "I was talking to myself!" He grabbed one handedly at the shower control and shut off the water. Verena didn't move.

"Turn around." He said with surprising force, finally collecting himself enough to think.

She looked over the rim of her glasses. "Master Van, I assure you—"

"Turn around." He made each word sound like a separate command.

A tiny pause. Then Verena turned, presenting him with her back. Van grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself.

"I am somewhat beyond being startled by human nudity," she said.

"Good for you,” he stalked towards his clothes. “I'm not."

"Then dress."

Van dried off with angry, inefficient motions. "You heard me talking or you just knew I wanted to talk to you?"

Her response was the same even tone she always used. Her failure to react to his raw emotions making her calm words grate roughly against him. "I suspected you would eventually want to discuss the matter."

Van stopped pulling on his shirt. "What matter?"

Verena turned her head slightly. Van pointed at her back. "Stay like that." She faced forward again. He finished dressing before saying, "All right."

Verena turned. Van was still barefoot. His hair dripped onto the shoulders of his clean shirt. She looked at him without comment. Van folded his arms. "What is wrong with Alpha?"

Verena's expression barely changed. "That is a poorly constructed question."

Van stared at her. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" She continued with agonizing patience, "Right and wrong are subjective categories. If you are asking whether Alpha is damaged, impaired, malfunctioning, transformed, traumatized, dishonest, enthusiastic, lonely, inappropriate, or merely irritating, those are different questions."

Van's jaw tightened. "Why does she act like she's in love with me?"

Verena regarded him for several seconds. "Is that what you think love looks like?"

Van's irritation spiked. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Being clever because you can." He stepped closer. "You're too smart not to understand what I'm asking."

Verena's mouth shifted by the smallest amount. "Very well," she allowed. "I understand the question."

"And?" he demanded, jaw set.

She took a single measured step to one side, the fog damp air fleeing her movement to not dare interfere with her. "And Alpha's private thoughts and feelings are not mine to explain to you."

Van stared at her. "You cannot be serious."

"I am quite serious, Master Van."

"She follows me around. She built robots that look like me. She makes those noises every time I exercise. She told me she would do anything I asked." He ran his hands through his damp hair, “I just don’t understand how this is helpful. Is this part of your fucked up experiment?”

Verena let the angry tone fill the air between them, not responding until Van felt the anger replaced with discomfort. "Her behavior is not something I spend time curating."

"That isn't an answer," he insisted.

"No." She raised her hand, palm out and looked at him with intense eyes. “It isn’t the answer you want. There is a difference.”

Van dragged one hand through his wet hair again. "Then what exactly was the point of showing up in my shower?"

"To give you the opportunity you requested."

"You haven't told me anything."

"I have told you that Alpha's interior life is not a file to which your title grants automatic access." Verena watched him. "You are focusing on the wrong part of the problem."

Van's mouth closed. "What part should I be focusing on?"

"That Alpha has private reasons for her behavior." She stepped another few feet closer, heels refusing to click on the tile. "That's called a secret."

Van let out a humorless breath. “Okay…and?”

Verena continued. "You should be careful how much you resent that." She caught his gaze like a serpent, holding him paralyzed. "Alpha has secrets," Verena said. "Just as you do."

Van stopped moving.

—--------------------

Professor Dane released them twelve minutes after the scheduled end of class. Cassie made it three steps into the corridor before putting both hands over her temples. "My brain hurts."

Lizzy came out behind her doing almost exactly the same thing. "Mine too."

Naomi closed the classroom door, laughing softly. "That seems like a poor review of the lesson."

"The lesson can be good and still hurt." Cassie pressed her fingertips harder against her temples. "Like exercise. Or tequila."

Lizzy frowned. "Can your brain actually hurt? I think I read that brains don't have pain receptors." Cassie lowered one hand. "Then what is hurting?"

Cassie shrugged, "Maybe something brain adjacent? It just advertises in the brain."

Naomi tried not to laugh. The classroom door opened behind them and Mirel Dane stepped out with a stack of notes beneath one arm. "Brain tissue itself lacks nociceptors. The surrounding membranes, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, and other structures do not."

Cassie pointed after her. "See? Advertising."

Naomi laughed as they started toward the dorm corridor. The humor lasted until Lizzy looked toward the windows and remembered tomorrow. "Do you think the Challenge is going to be like today?"

Cassie groaned. "Please don't say that word while my skull is full of fresh advertisements."

Lizzy slapped at her playfully. "I mean the uncomfortable thing."

Naomi's smile softened as Lizzy tucked both hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Verena said it would push us out of our comfort zones. Dane spends all morning making us use our powers in ways that feel wrong. That feels connected."

"It probably is," Naomi said.

Cassie rolled one shoulder. The yellow jacket she had been so proud of at breakfast had already pulled itself high enough to expose most of her waist. "Fine. Then tomorrow we get uncomfortable." Cassie caught Lizzy looking at her. "What?"

"You say that like it doesn't bother you." The younger girl dipped her head. “I’m just jealous, I guess.”

Cassie grunted, "Hey, it bothers me."

"Then why do you sound excited?"

Cassie thought about it. "Because if the Hotel is going to do something awful either way, I'd rather look at it as an exciting opportunity to blow stuff up."

Naomi looked down at her bare hands. "I would prefer more information before adopting that position."

Lizzy smiled faintly, but the tension didn’t fully leave her face. Behind them, Mara waited until Katherine and Evelyn had gathered their things. Katherine had made it through class with the expression of a woman patiently enduring someone else explaining her own profession to her. The effect had become less convincing each time Mirel invented another exercise. Mara fell into step beside her. "How is the search going?" Katherine looked at her.

Evelyn joined them on the other side. Katherine sighed. "Poorly."

"Still?" Mara asked.

"Last night I abandoned physical space and tried a digital approach."

Evelyn's attention sharpened. "And?"

"I discovered several gigabytes of photographs poorly altered to depict Alpha and Van on vacations."

Mara blinked. Evelyn said nothing for two full seconds.

"What kind of vacations?" Mara finally asked.

"Beach. Ski lodge. Paris. One extremely improbable safari in which Van appears to be wrestling a lion while Alpha takes a selfie."

Mara covered her mouth. Katherine's expression remained perfectly serious. "There was also a cruise."

Evelyn looked almost offended. "Why?"

Katherine frowned, "I assume because Alpha finds herself amusing."

“I know this building is compromised,” she gestured around helplessly. "Which is why I'm not explaining my last idea in a corridor."

"You have one?" Mara asked.

"One," she said. "'An excellent point of view.'" Katherine's mouth flattened. "I have treated that as architecture, observation, surveillance, perspective, and now information access. Tonight I'm trying the last interpretation I can think of."

"What is it?"

Katherine smiled. Mara sighed. "Right. Listening."

"The Hotel has demonstrated an irritating interest in dramatic timing. I see no reason to provide it advance notice."

Evelyn inclined her head. "Reasonable."

They reached the turn toward the dormitory rooms. Mara looked at Evelyn. "Speaking of dramatic timing." Evelyn glanced sideways.

Mara leaned in. "Have you thought about the bond assignment?"

Evelyn sniffed. "Unfortunately."

"What does that mean?" Mara’s curious tone flattened into something defensive at the edges.

Evelyn's expression softened despite herself. "Van approached me after breakfast."

Mara brightened. "Oh?"

"He very sweetly confessed that my celebrity makes him nervous."

Katherine laughed. Evelyn looked at her. "I knew you would enjoy that."

"I'm sorry." the shapeshifter said. " Please continue"

"He said that whenever he speaks to me, he feels as though he has walked into a meeting for which he failed to prepare. He asked whether, for one evening, we could attempt to treat each other as ordinary people rather than the roles surrounding us."

Mara smiled. Katherine laughed again. Evelyn stopped walking. "What?"

"He asked permission to stop being intimidated by you," Katherine said. "That's the divide. A man with more confidence would sit down, talk to Evelyn Cross like the woman across the table, and let you decide whether you liked it. Van asked whether he was allowed to try."

Mara shook her head. "I still think it's sweet."

"It can be sweet and still be a type of retreat," Katherine said.

"Most sweet things are a little absurd,” she argued.

Evelyn resumed walking. "I admire your dedication to romance, Mara."

The blonde caught up. "And how do you feel about it?"

"I feel like a thirty-eight-year-old woman who has been assigned to pretend-date a twenty-two-year-old trauma victim." Her tone made clear that the event was wholly obligatory.

Mara's expression collapsed. "That is a horrible way to describe it."

"It is an accurate one," Evelyn insisted.

"It is deliberately horrible." Mara didn’t retreat. “Why?”

"Twenty-two." Katherine looked thoughtful. “I suppose that does put some things in perspective."

"Don’t encourage her," Mara pleaded with a heavy sigh.

Katherine smiled. "I wasn't going to." Evelyn's eyes narrowed. Katherine waited half a beat. "Still…he is a strapping young lad. His arms are especially excellent."

Mara made a helpless sound.

Evelyn stopped again. "Oh, aren't we catty today?"

Katherine looked pleased with herself. Evelyn rubbed two fingers against her temple. "Yes. Fine. He is attractive." Mara's smile returned.

"And yes," Evelyn continued, "the whole wounded-bird quality has a certain regrettable charm."

Katherine nodded solemnly. "Regrettable."

Evelyn released a strained grunt. "Don’t make me regret trusting either of you with this."

"We haven't done anything," Mara said.

Evelyn exhaled. "I am not going to begin a physical relationship with him. The age difference is significant. The power structure is grotesque. He is still learning how to be around people without assuming he is dangerous to them. I’m not adding myself to that confusion because his shoulders are broad."

"Arms," Katherine corrected.

Evelyn looked at her. Katherine lifted both hands. Mara laughed hard enough that she had to stop walking. Evelyn continued down the corridor without them. After three steps, she called back, "They are very good arms."

Katherine looked at Mara. Mara smiled. "You are terrible."

"I know."

—--------------------

Fiona made it into the women's locker room before realizing Alpha was still following them. She stopped so abruptly that Claire almost walked into her. Alpha stopped too, carrying her little metal toolbox in one hand as though it justified everything.

Fiona turned. "Why are you here?"

Alpha gave a little pout, "I worked today too."

Claire laughed before she could stop herself. Fiona gave her a flat look, then began stripping the tape from one wrist.

Alpha set the toolbox on the nearest bench. "My body gets dirty." Fiona's eyes narrowed. Alpha walked closer and held out her hand. "Go on."

Fiona looked at the offered palm as though it might contain a trap. "Why?"

"Because you keep looking at me like I'm a refrigerator with breasts."

Claire coughed. Fiona took Alpha's hand. The reaction on her face was immediate. She turned Alpha's wrist over. The skin gave under her fingers. Warm. Soft enough that the tendons shifted when Alpha flexed. Fine lines crossed the knuckles and palm. Dirt from the gym had collected along the creases near the base of the fingers, and a faint grey smear marked one side of her thumb where she had worked inside the cable machine.

Fiona rubbed at it. The smear moved. "Huh."

Alpha beamed. Fiona brought the hand closer. At a glance there was nothing wrong with it. At close range, though, the perfection became suspicious. The joints moved too smoothly. The skin texture remained almost unnaturally even around places where a human hand would have accumulated tiny scars and roughness. Still, it was shockingly convincing.

Claire came closer before she realized she was doing it. Fiona released the hand. Alpha flexed her fingers. "My body imitates human function in almost every respect."

Fiona grabbed her towel from the bench. "You sleep?"

"Obviously."

Fiona started toward the stalls, then glanced back. "Do you eat?"

For the first time since following them inside, Alpha's smile lost some of its shine. "I can't." She looked down at her hand. "I wish I could." Claire paused with one shoe half off.

"The food here smells wonderful," Alpha continued. "Pixie insists I'm not missing as much as I think, but Pixie is just being sweet."

Fiona's expression shifted. She didn’t comment on it. She only picked up her shampoo. "So the shower is for the grease." Alpha held up the dirty hand. "I would like not to put cable grease on everything I touch."

Fiona pointed toward the open showers. "Do you have to do it with us?"

Alpha brightened. "No. You can always go back to your room and shower with Cassie."

Fiona's face went blank. Claire turned away very quickly. Fiona walked into the shower area without another word.

Alpha looked after her. "She likes me."

Fiona’s voice drifted from the next room. "No, she doesn't."

Alpha pinched her finger almost together, showing Claire the tiny gap, "A little."

Claire shook her head and followed. The shower space was built with the same privacy as the dorms, which means none. Alpha selected the showerhead beside Claire and immediately started talking through the sounds of falling water.

Alpha's body had already been strange when Claire first saw it during aquatic training. Smooth where a human woman was not. Too seamless. Clearly artificial in ways that became more obvious without clothing. But now Claire had watched water bead and run across the body as though there were no meaningful distinction between machine and person until one looked for the places where the imitation deliberately stopped.

Claire watched the water track over Alpha's shoulders for another few seconds before curiosity won. "Do you breathe?" Alpha looked over, then put one hand against her upper chest and inhaled. Her torso rose. "Yes."

"Ok,” her hair twisted questioningly behind her. “But, do you need to?"

"I don't know. I know I do it." Alpha shrugged with an open carelessness.

Claire turned slightly, reaching for soap. "How do you not know?"

"I didn’t design myself." Alpha reached for the soap as if that settled the matter.

The answer took some of the comedy out of Claire's next question. "Do you dream?"

"Yes."

Claire’s attention zeroed in. "What about?"

Alpha smiled. "That’s private, Claire.” She eyed the younger red head up and down pointedly. “I just don’t think you and I are at the sharing private things stage yet."

Claire’s face turned red and she turned back to her showerhead. "Fair," she squeaked.

Alpha worked soap between her fingers while Claire avoided her eyes.

"Do the Van-droids do all this?” she asked Alpha.

"No. They simulate breathing because movement looks wrong without it, but they don't sleep or dream. They don't think."

Claire hesitated. "What about emotions? Anger? Love?"

Alpha's teasing expression disappeared. "No. They're sophisticated robots. Behavioral architecture. There isn't an interior life hiding under Master's face."

Claire thought of the thing that had sat beside the grill at the beach wearing Van's body. "Good."

Alpha's grin returned. "Would you like to borrow one and confirm?"

“Ugh!” Claire recoiled under the spray. "No."

From two stalls away Fiona called, "Also no."

Claire shook her head and turned back to the water. "I was just curious."

Alpha turned under the water. Claire watched her hair darken slightly as it became wet. Even that looked human enough to be unsettling.

"You said they're exact duplicates." Claire’s eyes were squinted against the spray. "Exactly exact?"

Claire had tried to sound casual and failed. "How did you get the measurements?"

Alpha went still. Fiona's shower continued running. Claire became aware of her own heartbeat. Alpha stepped sideways until she stood at the edge of the Claire’s personal space. Then she leaned closer.

"Before Master was fully taken by Verena," she said softly, "I had access to a Hotel system that let me operate outside the normal flow of time."

Claire stared at the android who began to slowly ran both hands down her own upper arms. "I had a great deal of time." Her hands traced over her collar to her throat. The motion was almost absent-minded. Almost.

"Time for what," Claire stammered trying to regain control over her space.

Alpha’s answer poured out of her like honey. "Observation." Claire swallowed past the lump in her throat. Alpha's fingers moved back to her torso and trailed along her ribs. "And research. Don’t forget the research." Her words were heavy with meaning as the bubbly persona ripened into something else entirely.

Claire drew in a shaky breath, "Alpha." Her voice was small like she couldn’t fill her lungs properly.

Alpha’s fingers traced lines down to the swell of her hips. "I was very thorough, Claire."

Claire's face felt hot enough that she thought the shower would boil away.

Alpha leaned nearer, breath hot against her neck as she continued. "I examined everything that was available."

Claire's hair shifted against the back of her neck, twisting and straining in every direction.

Their eyes were locked together. "I took notes, Claire." The pause that followed was criminal. "Measurements, diagrams, everything my senses could feel." Her shoulders dipped and here eyes widened but never left Claire’s own.

Claire knew she should stop asking. She had taken this too far. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Alpha’s, but in her peripheral vision she saw the androids, arms cross to her center.

Alpha's eyes gleamed. "I spent a lot of time with him and his long, thick..."

Claire stopped breathing.

"...file."

The dripping sensuality vanished so completely it might never have existed. Alpha straightened and beamed.

"Kidding! Verena would never allow pre-season contact, but the files were very thorough."

Fiona’s who’s head had been covered in thick lather up to this point, turned from her own showerhead. "Would you two stop whispering and hissing?"

Alpha smiled even brighter.

Claire thrust her shampoo bottle, which she had nearly emptied with her iron hard grip, back onto the little inset self. "Yes. Definitely enough." She hurried to rinse off the clinging white gel from her hands and wrists.

She pointed at Alpha. "You are a dangerous woman."

Alpha pressed one hand to her chest. "Thank you."

Alpha shut off her shower, gathered her dirty gym clothes beneath one arm, and headed for the door without bothering to put them on.

Fiona stared after her. "Put your clothes on,” she shouted. “You don’t have to make everything weird!”

Alpha only waved and disappeared into the corridor completely nude. Fiona muttered something impolite and went back to dressing. Claire dried her hair more slowly than necessary, replaying the story even after the punch line had removed its worst implication.

Fiona caught her looking at nothing. "You okay?"

“Yeah,” she tilted her head. “I can’t tell if it’s an act, the whole cheerleader vixen routine.”

"Obviously, that’s the point." Fiona pulled on her shirt. "Why, you want to try out for the Van fan club?"

Claire laughed and reached for her own clothes. "I'm not Alpha, so no." She hesitated a bit, “He is cute though, maybe enough to enjoy a date but not cute enough to suddenly join a polycule over.”

Fiona laughed, "That’s a very low bar."

By the time they left the locker room, Claire had decided the entire conversation had been ridiculous. Alpha could not be taken seriously. She was just making people uncomfortable.

Claire stopped in the hall. "My phone,” she was patting her pockets.

Fiona kept walking for another step before turning. "What?"

She turned back, "I left it on the bench." Claire turned around. Behind her, Fiona continued toward the dorm wing. Claire jogged back through the gym entrance and into the locker corridor. She had nearly reached it when voices carried from the other side of the hall.

It sou ded like Van.

Claire slowed. The Master locker-room door stood partly open. Verena answered him. Claire stopped without intending to.

Van sounded frustrated. "I don't have secrets."

"You misunderstand me." Verena's reply was quieter.

Claire should keep walking, she felt the guilt immediately but smothered it under the weight of her kidnapping. Surely rules are different under some circumstances.

"The Hotel knows every fact you have attempted to conceal since entering it," Verena said. "As well as those from before. I do not share private information with the contestants merely because I possess it."

Silence filled the room. Claire's hand tightened around the strap of her gym bag. This was not her conversation. She took one step toward the women's locker room.

Van spoke again, voice rough with restrained emotion. "If you know, then you know why I can't just leave it alone."

His voice had changed. The frustration was still there, but something underneath it had folded. "Is there anything you can do?"

Verena took longer to answer. "Yes."

She continued like she was reading from a script, smoothly and with practiced inflection. "But not without cost."

Van’s voice moved as he raced the room. "What cost?"

Verena’s own voice was like ice sliding on glass. "Everything within the System has a cost, Master Van."

Claire thought of the numbers from the gym. Van's recovery. That flash on his face. The records they had not found in the Archive. She hated the direction her mind took and couldn’t stop herself from imagining what he could be hiding.

"What happens when they notice?" Van asked, clearly distraught.

Verena said nothing.

"I can't keep pretending and hoping they don't." His voice dropped lower. Claire had to strain to hear. "They're smart. All of them. Eventually one of them is going to figure it out."

Claire went very still.

"And then what?" Verena asked.

Van laughed once. There was no humor in it. "Then they look at me differently." A heavy pause. "They won't respect me anymore."

Claire's stomach tightened. She stepped closer to the women's locker-room door, putting distance between herself and the open room. She told herself she should leave.

Verena answered. "I know what you are hiding from them. I have the power to lift this burden for you."

Van spoke immediately. "Then do it."

"No." The refusal came too calmly. It was so simple and even that Claire almost missed it.

The voice of the headmistress floated out of the locker room, perfectly audible despite the echoes on the tile. “I said there is a cost."

"Fine,” Van hissed. “What is it?"

"The same currency used for most optional alterations in this facility." A beat of hope before the knife. "BP."

"You know I don't have any BP." Van's answer was sharp. "So how exactly do you suggest I buy something with money I don't have?"

Verena's voice remained level. "As Master, you have access to financial privileges the contestants do not share."

Claire forgot about her phone for a second. Van sounded equally confused. "What privileges?"

"A contestant may voluntarily transfer BP to you. Contestants cannot freely transfer BP among themselves."

Van was silent. Claire could imagine his face. "No."

"Then your second option is debt." Claire could hear the smile in Verena’s voice. "I can loan you the BP."

Van's voice hardened. "Of course you can."

"There are no giveaways here. No free tickets. If you want a resource before you can afford it, you either persuade someone with resources to give them to you or accept terms."

"What terms," his answer was full of defeat.

"Assigned objectives." Verena continued. "I advance the BP. You complete objectives. Each completed objective lowers the debt according to its assigned value."

"Objectives like what?"

"That depends upon the debt."

Van started to answer. Claire did not hear what he said. She opened the women's locker-room door, slipped inside, and let it close behind her. Her phone sat on the bench exactly where she had left it. Claire picked it up. The screen lit beneath her thumb. HOTEL HEROINES had three new messages. She didn’t read them. For several seconds she stood alone in the locker room, phone in one hand, listening to the quiet beyond the door.

Then she put it into her pocket and left by the far exit. She didn’t look back at the Master’s locker room again.