The next few weeks went in preparation. Talissa missed her family, missed her friends, and dearly missed her past life, despite everything she had been telling herself. And it had never occurred to her, that despite all odds, what nourishment her life before had held for her soul: how happy she had felt before, with at least some free power of will, and never cherished that.

Now she had, indeed, none.

The four astronauts, including Mascar's hologram and Maximilian Stoll, worked on the spacewalk schedule daily, but oftentimes, the Mendson leader wasn't president in their meetings. The man mainly joined them whenever he had a paper report from the PR'ologists (paper, in modern Engel, had become the controversial equivalent of "top secret" treeware) and promptly left, as if not valuing them much. Such sentiments were already visible in some of the astronauts' conversations; for example, the following:

- Does someone else here truly believe that Earth will be destroyed lest we not fly to stop it? - Skylar nervously suggested.

- Maybe something did occur, but it's not that extraterrestrially dangerous. Perhaps we are being... exploited. - Ender replied. All eyes were swiftly on him, but in every eye there was at least some silent accord.

Only Mascar's death evidence kept their heads down low.

And for Talissa - she was also a Belwoman.

Then the time came for them to launch. Stoll and the news told them they couldn't wait anymore. While the first did it quite bluntly, the second source veiled the information showcasing a "strange array of circumstances" on TV. 12 people died in NovLondon. Perhaps Spain had shown aggression towards Engel again? Americ? Jossia? There was a treaty, after all, between all of the aforementioned countries. But maybe the government was hiding something. It definitely was something political.

But the minute they had signed the papers, the minute the paperwork had left her pen, Talissa was greeted with something she had never seen before. Revels. Parties. Press-conferences. Interviews. Her name - well, her fake name - was always in lights. Her face - well, her all-encompassing full opaque face mask - was on the cover of every magazine. Her voice wasn't modulated, but no one cared to intricately analyse it. It wasn't her ideal, but she'd never been one to chase after fame anyways.

The thing that most surprised her, though, was water. Drinks. Food. Alcohol. She, as a Belwoman, almost went crazy the first time she tasted coffee - she had never even drank. She only knew bout things like food and beverages from school and FBI classes, but she was literally too broke - never got to taste them. Yet now - she was treated like the elite. The latter she hated. She was forced to deal with it.

"Champagne, madam?" A waiter robot - waiterbot - called out cheerfully. Talissa looked up. The waiter wasn't actually a robot holding some aperitifs but a middle-aged man, probably a politician or something.

Talissa almost left her mouth open due to the fineness of his black tailored suit. That must have cost about 10000 Mindvides or more (Author: 5 Mindvides - 1 US dollar).

"Ye-yeah, thank you," she stuttered, taking hold of the peculiar container. Glasses, were they called?

When she took the first sip of the bubbly petrol-oil-coloured liquid, it felt like knives had entered her throat. She coughed.

But the next moment, it felt like Heaven.

She drained the whole glass in a matter of seconds.

"Wow, easy there," the man cautioned, a little too late to stop her. "You are Miss Rikta Acharya, right?"

"Yes, I am," Talissa replied, still reeling from her new experience.

"Nice to meet you. I am Richmond Paulis," the man said smiling, stretching out a elegant thickly-ringed hand.

"Nice to meet you," Talissa answered, taking it. None of them knew her real name. It would be stupid if she revealed it now.

All Stoll's work... - for nothing.

"Are you alright? I can call you a Mindcar if you want."

But then again, the harm would come to her also - definitely. Not just to Stoll's team.

"You sure you're alright? If this is your first time drinking alcohol, I strongly advise against drinking more than half a glass in your first time."

"What would I feel?" Talissa asked, already feeling dread and disappointment at herself - and something else?

"Dizziness, Fatigue... maybe hyperactivity, depends on person,"  Richmond answered. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I am," she replied, but the instant he was walking away Talissa cursed herself for drinking too much. It seemed the effects were getting to her.

She was going to be an embarrassment. On her first day among the elites.

She had to walk a passageway to the VIP entrance. Then the downstairs corridors were a walk in the park.

She had almost made it. Her nerves didn't help. Another step and she would be dead. Another step and-

"Miss Rikta Acharya, please come on the stage!"

Oh her God. She wasn't going to make it. She was going to be a fool.

"Miss Acharya, you are free to leave," someone said behind her shoulder. She started.

"Don't worry 'bout them. I'll take care of it." The man's voice was familiar.

She turned around to see Ender.

"Just go don't make noise. I'll deal with it," Ender advised, his tall stature blocking the VIP passage from view.

As Talissa was too evidently flabbergasted to quickly escape from view, he asked:

"Have they not been training you to build up alcohol resistance?"

"N-no," she managed. Was he always that intimidating?

"Well I'll tell Stoll you need training. You must go, Miss Mercedell," Ender whispered. "They'll cut your and my head too if you don't."

With that Talissa finally learnt how people walked.

"Thanks," she whispered before finally breaking apart and striding away.

He seemed to yield some hold over her, a hold no one ever had ever yielded.

However, she couldn't have had less time to think about that in her fragile thinking tree as she plopped down on the stairs to her own apartment. So close. Yet so far.

Plan failed? Successfully?

Needless to say, she got some additional training after that.