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Sascha adjusted his grip on the manila envelope, as though afraid it would blow away at the slightest touch. Its contents were like lottery tickets. They could either be useless scrap paper or the turning point of his entire life. Sascha just needed someone to interpret them.

The envelope contained the handful of papers scavenged from the epicenter of The Root. They'd been handed to Sascha by Odette and never returned. The building finally imploding in on itself had a lot to do with it. Sascha had booked it out of the ruins and never looked back. He hadn't even realized he'd kept the papers in his clenched fists until he was halfway to the train station.

His lusus had needed to build an entirely new shell for herself after that debacle. Sascha hadn't seen much of the outside world since then.

The papers were able to generate a surprising amount of interest from the otherwise antsy troll. When Baista Solvak had recorded that postmortem message, he likely hadn't considered anyone to have had time to read his research, much less get out of the Root before being taken down with it. If the hivestem had been intact to begin with and had more walls and corridors to navigate, that would have most certainly been the case. Beyond that, the large telekinetic yellowblood probably hadn't considered his notes falling into the possession of a smaller, also telekinetic yellowblood. For the first time in his life, Sascha was able to view the world through another person's eyes.

Space flight. It was the crowning achievement of Alternia. They weren't just a planet, they were an empire. Ever since the Vast Glub, interstellar travel seemed almost mythical in its unattainability. It was such a magnificent, grandiose legacy, that the thought it ever existed felt implausible. The Alternian Mount Olympus. The scientists of the present age may as well have been appealing to ancient gods.

This was the closest Sascha had ever come to his people's legacy. Not just trolls, but helmsmen. The literal hearts of space flight that provided power to the entirety of their vessels. It was the power that took their species light-years in what may as well have been moments. They were pioneers, and they were an armada. Civilizations had burned beneath the shadows of Alternian spacecraft. The officers may have been the ones to set the course, but without the helmsmen, they wouldn't have even been able to get off the ground.

It was the heavenly empire that troll society remembered most of the old nights. Baista was just one of them. No, he was more than that. Sascha had no reasoning beyond his own bias and gut instinct. Baista had been willing to burn an entire city block's worth of innocents to the ground, including himself for this research. Even Sascha, for all his callous selfishness, didn't want to believe that such a sacrifice was for naught.

If by some absurd stroke of luck that these research notes were worth the blood they'd spilled, Sascha Diasis wanted to be a part of it.

He entered the Chittentown Technology Center and demanded to speak to someone in charge.

Sascha wasn't sure what he was expecting. "Uh... I guess that's what I'm here for?" Every word he spoke was its own individual question. "I gotta know who I need to speak to about this," he waved his manila envelope for emphasis.

Obviously the receptionist wouldn't know what the hell he was talking about. Technically Sascha didn't know what he was talking about--hence coming to the center in the first place. He took a breath and started formulating the words that would best describe the situation in a way that made it sound important and not crazy.

"Okay... So you know the Root in New Hemisect? That huge luxury hivestem that just up and exploded one night? And then exploded again nights after the fact? ...Uh, as far as news about explosions go I'm pretty sure it was noteworthy enough to get written up in a Chittentown newspaper..." Sascha could feel himself crashing and burning. Just like the Root.

"A-Anyway! I may have trespassed into the building after that first explosion and just before the second one. Like just before," he tried to give the most meaningful look his face could muster, "I found these notes. They're too technical for me to parse, but the gist of it is that they're concerning, um, helmsmen experimentation," Sascha said the last part in little more than a mumble. This was getting both crazy and illegal sounding. If he saw a security guard Sascha was prepared to start running.

"Basically I have no idea if these are even worth anything, which is why I need someone techie to translate. I figured this place would have both the personnel to understand it and the resources to actually do something should it end up being actually useful."

Sascha was nervous in his presentation, but earnest. This could possibly be a really big deal for a lot of trolls, not just himself.

Sascha flexed and unflexed the fingers of his right hand, trying very hard not to wrinkle the notes with his fidgeting. They were already crushed pretty badly from the initial escape. If Sascha hadn't been wearing gloves at the time he probably would have sweated through all the ink.

He supposed that if the receptionist was typing something up immediately after his delivery, then that was a... good sign? Proactive at least? They hadn't just drifted off to other paperwork to make up for lost time listening to him, right? Sascha was pretty sure no matter how he explained his presence it was anything but boring. He was a pretty difficult person to ignore.

After what felt like sweeps, the receptionist addressed him once again. Sascha didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. Now his restless waiting was tinged with excitement rather than worry. He resorted to rocking back and forth on his heels until he was finally given instructions.

"I- Ah... Thank you." Well that had been easy. Sascha blinked as his body mechanically turned itself in the direction of the elevators. He punched the number in and up he went. He had no idea what would be waiting for him on the other side of the door, but he knocked anyway. "Doctor... uh, Casini, right? The troll at the front desk told me to meet you..?"

Sascha wondered if he was still in the same building. Was he meeting with a doctor or a wizard? Regardless, he was immensely impressed with the decor. The doctor herself produced a similar response. It wasn't as though Sascha had spent much time conversing with adults, much less one of this sort of standing. Even in Chittentown an orangeblood with an office like this clearly knew what they were doing and were probably the only one who could do it.

Sascha was still looking around the room when Dr. Casini approached him for a handshake. Startled out of his reverie, Sascha instinctively took the doctor's hand. He gave a decisive shake and released. He was there on a mission, dammit. He could be distracted by shiny objects later.

He leveled his gaze at her, scrutinizing Dr. Casini openly. "I'm not sure how much the receptionist told you about my... situation. Apparently you're the person to come to about it."

Sascha grimaced at his error. The size and class of the Technology Center was really getting to him. He knew the moment he stepped through the door that he was the dumbest person in the building. At least the doctor wasn't being a snob about it. Perhaps the fruit was hanging too low.

Sascha admired the curious objects spread across Dr. Casini's desk. If anything his ignorance made everything seem more impressive and mysterious than it probably was. For all he knew that thing could have just been a stapler. He dropped the envelope in the designated spot

"Good thing for me I don't have the credentials to be working here then, I guess," Sascha joked to mask his residual embarrassment, "My name is Sascha Diasis. The guy who wrote these notes was named Baista Solkov, but I don't know if that means much of anything. He was camping out in a bunker underneath a hivestem so I don't think he was keen on participating in the scientific community."

Sascha continued standing in front of Dr. Casini's desk a moment longer before realizing this might take a while. Unsure if it was kosher, Sascha went ahead and took a seat in one of the nearby chairs. He scooted forward a little bit to be closer to "the action."

Dr. Casini was proving to be a much more personable figure than he'd expected to find at the Technology Center. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward at the tone with which she was using to speak about the late Baista Solkov. While the exposition was interesting, Sascha was pretty sure he could have deduced paranoid genius from his own observations. He actually sounded like a pretty cool guy as far as whack-job felons went.

Sascha did his best to continue smiling pleasantly as Dr. Casini mentioned the garbage shoot. It was a funny mental image, under the circumstances that she was just kidding. Which was the case. Right? His optimism only continued to deteriorate as Dr. Casini explained his situation. Eventually he leaned forward in his seat, planting his mouth against his laced fingers. "Maybe a thank-you?" Sascha said without thinking.

Still, despite his posturing Sascha knew he was playing with fire. What did he expect to gain? He certainly wasn't doing this out of any sense of loyalty to Chittentown, or the security of its reputation as the technological capitol of Alternia. Like with most of Sascha's behavior, being a good little citizen was an afterthought. His primary motivation was always

"If this ended up being something big, I wanted to be a part of it."

Sascha spoke with a seriousness that hadn't been displayed since entering the building. His hands had moved to his knees as he sat upright, looking Dr. Casini in the lenses. It was a simple statement, but true.

Sascha carefully watched each of Dr. Casini's movements, fearing she'd make good on that garbage chute comment. It was hard to tell if her thanks was genuine or sarcastic. He was surprised when she kept going, and even more shocked with what she had to say.

Sascha wore his skepticism openly at the assertion that he so much as could work at the Technology Center, much less was needed. He hung onto Dr. Casini's every word. The thought that she could so clearly see through him--almost literally given her powers--it should have unnerved Sascha. All he felt was a tentative, but rapidly growing sense of anticipation. He didn't know what solacularite was, and the word "pubescent" was never a flattering adjective, but Sascha had never felt so sure of himself.

Sascha chuckled woodenly, eyebrows knit up in continued disbelief. There was disbelief that this was happening, and disbelief at the idea of anyone thinking he'd say no. The subtle threat of blackmail barely even registered with him. He had no clever retort or even the will to think one up, lest he be taken for anything but one-hundred percent on board.

"When do I start?"