"Pasture-raised meat's a luxury out herOllie stopped in his tracks, peering into the lab with a look of disbelief. "That's a fake bit of steak, that is!" he exclaimed, pointing at the trays as if they'd personally offended him.

"Pasture-raised meat's a luxury out here in the void," I explained, trying to keep from laughing at his reaction. "We've got to make do with this stuff. And honestly? It's not half bad."

Ollie's expression twisted into something between skepticism and curiosity as we kept walking. "Really? I'd imagine it tastes funny compared to the real thing."

"Oh yeah, sure," I said, waving a hand. "It's not exactly the same. But if you know how to cook it, you'd barely notice. My foster mom used to make this pot roast that, dare I say, was even better than pasture-raised."

Elaine glanced back at me briefly, her expression unreadable, before continuing to lead the way.

Ollie, meanwhile, looked like a kid at a theme park, barely containing the urge to dart off and explore every glowing panel and lab we passed. Each room was alive with activity, the hum of machinery and the soft glow of holomatrix displays spilling into the corridor.

We stopped in front of a set of imposing double doors with Research & Development Alpha emblazoned in bold letters across the top. Elaine turned to us with the smallest flicker of pride in her otherwise stoic demeanor.

R&D Alpha. The belly of the beast. This was iNNoTec's crown jewel, their in-house think tank, the birthplace of humanity's greatest technological leaps since the mid-20th century. If innovation had a Mecca, this was it.

We staggered into the lab like a couple of hitchhiking drifters, our shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Compared to the other labs we'd passed on the way here, this one felt... different. More intimate, more personal.

The walls were cluttered with framed photos, dozens of them, all featuring members of the Bradford family. The reclusive dynasty rarely made public appearances, which meant these pictures were the closest anyone got to knowing them. And now here I was, presumably face-to-face with the latest Bradford in charge.

Great. Another corporate windbag who probably wanted to bribe me into silence. (For the record, my cosmic cats, they'd have to pry my typewriter from my cold dead hands. Bribes are for hacks.)

At the back of the room, a chemistry array stood like something out of a pulp fantasy novel, all twisting glass and glowing liquids. A holomatrix screen floated above it, displaying notes and formulas for whatever was bubbling in the setup. A man in a lab coat, his dark hair slicked back and glasses perched on his nose, was focused on the array. He turned taps, lit a Bunsen burner, and adjusted tubes like he was conducting a symphony of alchemy.

This had to be him. The big cheese.

Elaine had slipped into another room, her creepy cat sticking around like my shadow. It perched on a bookshelf, its glowing green eyes locked onto me, unblinking. It hadn't moved since I walked in, and I was starting to wonder if it ever blinked at all.

Clearing my throat, I stepped forward and addressed the scientist. "You must be our host. Thanks for having me. I'm Tracy Lawrence of the-"

Before I could finish, a woman's voice cut me off. "The Quantum Pulse Network, yes, I'm keenly aware of who you are~!"

The voice belonged to a thin woman with unkempt dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and thick red-framed glasses. Her cream lab coat, complete with the iNNoTec lightbulb insignia, had its sleeves rolled up, and she held a half-filled plastic cup of boba milk tea in one hand. She stood in the doorway, grinning like she'd just stumbled across a new experiment. Elaine appeared behind her, the cat now back on her shoulder.

The woman strode toward me, hand outstretched, and grabbed mine in a shake so enthusiastic I thought she'd pop my arm clean off, like a barbie doll. "Delia Bradford, Owner and CEO, Innovation Technologies Incorporated. A wonderful pleasure to finally make your acquaintance!"

Caught off guard, I managed to mutter, "O-oh, the pleasure's all mine."

Before I could process her energy, Delia's eyes landed on Ollie. Her excitement cranked up another notch as she barreled over to him, shaking his hand with the same vigor. "Allo, chap! Come a long way, have you?"

Her hazel eyes darted over him with laser focus. "Ah, you were right, Elaine. This is definitely a Nightwalker."

Ollie stiffened, his entire demeanor shifting. His brows furrowed, his shoulders squared, and his fangs peeked out as he snarled, "OI! WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME, YOU RAGGEDY ENGLISH CUNT?!"

Shit.

I instinctively grabbed Ollie's shoulder, trying to calm him down, but my peripheral vision caught something far more alarming. Elaine's eyes and hands were glowing, her fingers crackling with an energy I'd only ever read about in conspiracy theory blogs. A row of wooden stakes levitated off a nearby counter, hovering like a spectral firing squad, each one aimed squarely at Ollie.

Holy fuck. Elaine is a Domilicaster.

I'd heard about them, those who can manipulate Domiculus engines to fuel what we used to call magic. Back on Earth, they'd been called witches, using the planet's own Domiculus engines to power their abilities. But out here? They had to rely on smaller, portable-ish, less powerful engines, giving them a more personal range.

But there was no engine on her.

Before I could ask how the hell she was pulling that off, Elaine's glowing hands intensified, a soft hum vibrating in the air. The stakes hovered closer, the deadly points aimed with surgical precision. Ollie tensed, his fangs partially extended, but he didn't move. I'm no expert, but when someone's glowing hands are summoning a stake firing squad, it's time to start sweating. And, buddy, I was Niagara Falls. Then, Delia's voice cut through the tension like a burst of static. "Alright, everyone, let's take it down a notch, shall we?" She sipped her boba tea, unfazed, her casual tone stark against the storm brewing in the room.

"Ah, now it makes sense," Delia said, her tone shifting to something closer to reverence. "A Nightwalker... A Type A Vampire. Stronger, faster, but so rare these days." She paced, tapping her boba cup."practically a walking Dodo bird. Your kind hasn't really been seen since the Great Exodus of the 2060s."

The stakes hovered, their polished wood glinting under the lab's sterile lighting. Ollie's body coiled, every muscle taut as he growled low in his throat. The air between him and Elaine seemed to vibrate with unspoken hostility. My hand instinctively edged toward my handgun, not that it'd do much good in this mess. Elaine's voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of tension.

"Nightwalker or not, a threat is a threat. And I don't leave threats unchecked." Her eyes glowed faintly, their intensity matching the eerie aura around her. Then, as quickly as it had risen, the tension shattered like glass against concrete.

"Alright, alright!" Delia's boba tea sloshed as she waved a hand, stepping between them. "Let's not go all Underworld in here. We've got science to talk about!"

And just like that, the stakes dropped to the floor. My knees almost followed, but I managed to stay upright, pretending I wasn't ready to kiss the ground. Elaine stepped back, crossing her arms as the cat leapt to her shoulder, settling there like it owned the place.

I finally exhaled, realizing I'd been holding my breath.

"I take it from your reactions," Ollie said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "that you all have experience with vampires?"

Delia beamed, clearly enjoying the moment. "Intimate knowledge!"

Elaine, on the other hand, sighed and crossed her arms tighter, the cat curling around her neck like a fuzzy scarf. "Before the D.A.A. became an intergalactic investigative agency for cosmic anomalies, we were Earth-bound. Our mission was to protect the existing monster population and catalog any new ones that popped up. This was long before my time," she added with a small shrug.

The way she said "long before my time" gave me a chill. Between the glowing hands, floating stakes, and the strangely animate cat, I wasn't sure if Elaine was older than she looked or just unusually talented. Either way, it was clear that things were about to get a lot weirder.Elaine opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, staple-bound booklet, blowing the dust off the cover. It was labeled Vampirism Type A (Nightwalker): D.A.A. Guidebook. She handed it to Ollie with a neutral expression. "This is everything we know about Vampirism, Type A. It's in a familiar form factor, so you can flip through and figure out what you may, or may not, be capable of."

Ollie raised a brow but started thumbing through the booklet, his curiosity outweighing his skepticism.

Elaine continued, her tone clinical. "Your thirst for blood is actually a thirst for iron. That's why the ships we detected going into the station never seemed to make it out. At first, we believed it was due to the undead inhabitants of the station, but now we've put two and two together." She shot me a sharp look, and I felt my stomach twist. Looks like my tiny fib wasn't as solid as I'd hoped.

"How long were you on the station, Ollie?" she asked, her voice casual, but her glowing eyes betraying her focus.

"Oh, about 20 years," he said, flipping another page.

Elaine stroked her chin, and her glowing eyes flickered slightly, an implanted optic, I realized. "And your atomic signature from my ship's scans places your origin around the mid-2010s."

Delia, still sipping her boba, chimed in with a nod. "Ah, that clears it up! You're not time-displaced from the 2010s, you're time-displaced from the mid-'90s. Your time displacement just happened 20 years ago." She punctuated her deduction with a loud slurp, only stopping when tapioca pearls clogged her straw.

Then she launched into a rapid-fire interrogation. "Tell me, Ollie, do you feel cravings for anything other than blood? What's your favorite food? Have you ever tried going vegan?"

Before she could fire off another question, a soft, glowing light appeared, and a much smoother-sounding Webster chimed in. "Now, Delia, you're getting sidetracked."

Delia stopped mid-sip, sighed dramatically, and nodded. "Ah, you're right. Thank you, Webster."

"Anytime~!" he replied with an almost smug tone.

I smirked. "Huh. That logic circuit seems to be steering you."

Delia turned to me and grinned. "That's what Webster was invented for! To keep me on task and help me manage my neurodivergent habits."

I blinked, caught off guard. I'd always assumed Webster had been invented solely to piss me off. "So, what, you just made it better and better until it became an essential piece of tech?"

Delia chuckled, the grin never leaving her face. "Exactly." Delia adjusted her red-framed glasses, her enthusiasm lighting up the room. "My team kept saying it could change the way we use technology, so I listened."

Now, the damn thing runs starships, facilitates business empires, and probably solves Sudoku puzzles when no one's looking. Go figure "Necessity really is the mother of invention." I responded.

Elaine crossed the room, her arms folded tightly. Her cat leapt from her shoulder onto the table, curling into place as if it owned the spot. She fixed her gaze on me. "Now, for my questions. There were quite a few bounty hunters waiting for you outside Velstrazda. You told me they believed you were harboring Leon Stardust and hiding out on the station."

"That's indeed what I said," I replied, feigning nonchalance as my eyes flicked toward a metal skeleton in the corner of the lab. She had me.

"So, tell me," she said, her tone sharp, "3.6 AU outside Velstrazda, during the escort, there was an F.M. pod deployment. One Strexian male aboard?"

The YSD argument wasn't going to cut it here. Clearly.

I sighed, relenting. Walking to the sleek holopit where Delia was standing, I gestured to it. "May I?"

"But of course!" Delia replied, her chipper tone setting me a bit at ease as she unlocked it for me.

I removed my trusty Merigold glasses, the ones I'm never seen without, and placed them on the holopit. A mix of marigold and crimson light filled the surface.

Now, cosmic cats, here's a little trade secret: my glasses are always recording. Even the most observant journalist gets tricked by their own eyes now and then, so these bad boys help me keep the facts straight. Using my optic control ring, I accessed my files and played back the events from Bay City onward.

The feed showed it all, from me returning to Gonzo, catching Leon eating my Vaccucho, to the abomination in the station begging for its life, and finally the explosion that obliterated the station.

Elaine shook her head as the playback ended. "Blowing up the whole station? Was that really the right approach? There's still so much we don't know about that place!"

Delia cut in, her voice soft but firm. "It's all right, loves. You did the right thing for that poor creature."

Elaine turned to Delia, perplexed. Delia responded with a warm, reassuring smile, gently patting Elaine on the back. Elaine sighed, letting it drop.

Onscreen, the feed showed Leon stealing my F.M. pod.

"Hah! Classic Leon Stardust move," Delia said with a laugh, pointing at the screen like a rowdy kid in the back of the classroom.

She turned to Webster, calling out, "Webster, darling."

"What can I do for you, Delia?" he replied, chipper as ever.

"Send us up some cheeseburger baskets from the diner on Deck 85 and have the mechanic team meet me in the flight simulator."

"Consider it done, oh captain my captain!" Webster said.

Delia giggled, shaking her head. "Cheeky bugger." She then looked at me. "Poor girl, you must be famished. I've sent for something to fill your belly. I'll be right back."

She turned to Ollie, her tone shifting to something more businesslike. "I'm going to get our time-displaced friend here some help reentering society. Returning you to the 1990s is, unfortunately, not in the cards."

Ollie shrugged, his tone resigned. "Because it's not scientifically possible."

Delia chuckled, wagging a finger. "Oh, no, that's not it at all. Time travel to the past is illegal for very good reasons."

She led him into another room, Elaine following closely behind, her cat still perched on her shoulder like a furry gargoyle.

And just like that, I was alone.

I leaned against the holopit, turning my glasses over in my hands. Had Delia really figured out time travel to the past? Time travel to the future is one thing, theoretically possible, even practical in small increments. But to the past? That's a whole other can of worms.

Not that it mattered, I supposed. If Delia wasn't pursuing it, there was no use worrying about it. Still, the idea stuck in my mind as I waited for her to return.