And we've arrived!
Chapter 10, very likely the second last of our breather chapters at this point. It would have been the last, were I a man more reserved with my words. But I fear I am not so cogent, and so you'll have to bear with me a while longer.
Nonetheless, it's here. And to be honest, I never thought I'd quite get to the point where breather chapters would be necessary. It's surprising how far a bit of commitment and no small amount of encouragement from others can get you.
And in any case, enough about me. This is where you take it from here, reader. Feel free to leave comments, questions and the like below, and most of all, I hope this was worth the wait.
Xena, out!
(P.S. if this eases your mind any, the first words of Chapter 11 are being dreamed up as we speak - although I fear an extreme increase in pace may still be a bit much to ask. Ah well.)
======
A Sea of Stars
Book 1: The Stars, Awake
Chapter 10: The Apples of Eris
"Wake up, sleepy head."
He doesn't want to, he says, arms folded in the manner of the Stoics.
That is, if a Stoic could still look the part in horizontal repose, side laid out upon many-hued sheets, face against the wall.
"Why not?"
He feigns interest in a tectonic-sprung hairline crack in the wall.
"Oh, come on, was it really so bad last week?"
Ugh. Annoying. What an annoying woman. He could see her now, in all her annoyingness. The cheek of perpetual chuckle. The teasing emerald eyes under her auburn bangs - and that infuriating habit of waiting on answers that she knew he could not avoid giving.
Yes, it was that bad. He almost spits those words out.
She sighs. And for a while there is silence.
After all, they both know how much he hates Saturdays.
The Others call them 'play days'. And maybe it is play. For them: bigger, stronger, faster, better on their feet. He cannot keep up. Never could, and the gap grows wider every day. He can count the last time he was not picked last in months now. That was he is still picked at all is a shock, really.
Maybe they still hadn't figured that
one out yet, he chuckles. It's still like acid, but time dulls the taste.
"What a bunch of meatheads, huh?"
He nods.
The woman plops down next to him, kicking blue bunny slippered feet into the air.
"Well." A sigh, and her legs drop back down. "Well then. That's going to be difficult."
Guess he'll have to be brought there all the same, he thinks. Again. But at least she's not like the others. At least she doesn't like it, and shows it as and when she can. They're similar that way; as they seem to be in many ways. Small ways always, but always there. And he will take what he can.
"Why don't you come with me, then?"
That comes out of the blue, in every way. Come with her? Where to? To do what? And what about the last few weeks when-
"No, no." He is being read like a book. He realizes it quickly, staring into those endless emerald eyes. It rankles less than it should. "We're not going to the roughhouse. That's so uncivilized,
don't you think?"
The old suspicion creeps upon him. He knows this song and dance: she is trying to take control of the conversation. And people want things of you, yes, want things from
you, when they do this. But the question he knows she knows he will ask burns, burns him down to the bone.
And just maybe, perhaps, surely, this time will be different.
He asks away. What then would she consider civilization?
Three seasons pass over her face. A brief reaving of doubt before a smile springs forth newborn, lit up by eyes like grass under burnished sunlight. But it is winter that remains, that outstays the welcome of eyes breaking contact.
"Well then. How about a little experiment, instead?"
=====
"Hey. Dude."
The first thing I realized was that the halls weren't white anymore. These ones were pink, with a dash of fresh blueberry in the top quarter or so. An interesting touch. A personal one too - and it also required little guesswork as to who might have ordered it. Still, it was a comforting thing to see.
Less comforting was the look JD was tossing me from over half a dozen steps in front. His arms were folded, as decent a 'no, whatever answer you've brought, it won't be enough' statement as they came. But it was the rest of him that spoke far louder. And kohl-black eye rings, trembling hands, a tendency to stick far closer to the nearest wall than strictly necessary? Those never said good things about how your previous night went.
But in any case, great job, Ethel. Beating Lethe at the Umindfulness Grand Prix? Next you'll be out-strutting Narcissus, or out-fighting Achilles.
Hmmm. One of those wasn't quite right.
"You okay?"
"Probably." Where one's idea of 'probably ' could be redefined as a demented butchering of Dean Martin's 'Sway', but don't worry folks. I'll get over it. "Just a little out of the zone, is all."
"Wonderful."
"And you're looking rather wonderful yourself, I see."
JD rolled his eyes.
"Look, man, I-" and he might have rolled his shoulders dramatically as well, but he doubled over, that abuse one offense too many for his still hung-over body could take. "-Urrwgerrrgh."
"If it helps, I think I got the plate of the truck that ran you over last night."
"Screw off," JD choked out, in between attempts to seek the aid of the nearby wall in keeping his balance, as well as last night's supper.
"Just offering."
"I'm fine."
Eh. Let no one say I didn't try before giving you the Suit Yourself Shrug.
"You look half dead, but I'll let it slide."
JD shot me one last dirty look. And it was very dirty indeed, what with the pestilent shade that his face had taken on and all. Still, he fought it down at every turn. Guess resilience could shore up a dire dearth of wisdom after all.
[ETA to docking completion at Eris Shipyards, 15 mikes. I repeat, Eris Shipyards in fifteen mikes. All hands, prepare for docking.]
And in any case dearth of wisdom did not extend to attempting to miss deadlines that had a non-zero chance of getting us killed if missed.
Fortunately for both of us, the half-jog half-dash to the hangar deck near the stern of Gradivus was not a long one. The mobile base was research station first, bristlingly-armed battlefortress second, and had thus been built even more so than the average ship for the speedy, automated transfer of material and men. This we played to our advantage: a joyride on a high-speed rail here, an muzak-accompanied trip down an ultra elevator there.
Before we knew it, Gradivus' hangar doors were before us, nine men both abreast and tall, being pried open by invisible hydraulic hands to allow us and many others entry.
It wasn't hard to find our quarries from there. Even having lost our folk from the 322nd to the company of their unit-mates we stood out like sore thumbs. For one thing, Suzy and Bucky had free hands not either occupied by dataslates, containers or machinery with which to wave at us, grinning to outshine the sun; while Yuudachi's -Aoki Yuuka was plain unusable given how we'd been introduced- mane of free-flowing hair and easy smile was a rarity amid the short-crops and cramped, busy-worked faces that passed us by even as we approached.
But it was the rest of Agano Team that were the real eye-catchers here. In particular, mincing, smirking Amatsukaze, the air around her crackling with pending sarcasm as she bumped a shoulder against her raven-haired, well-curved and visibly unwell companion.
"Oh-ho, Squadron Leader, look.
Some more people who didn't actually collapse after just a few drinks last night!"
Hmm. I'd say our friend JD here was close enough to collapsing, but if mine eyes had not fooled me, he hadn't gotten this way on account a mere 'few' drinks. The eponymous Agano, now identified by simply process of elimination, looked far worse for the wear however, almost recoiling at the mild tap.
"Uuuu...it's not my fault the stuff they chug on Ulmud is that strong!" Agano clutched at her head. "And I wasn't thaaat bad, was I?"
On a scale of one to ten - unconvincing.
"I don't know," the silver haired destroyer quipped with a shrug, "It's not like my shoulder isn't still half-broken from carrying you or anything."
Once in while you would meet people whose trains of thought proceeded with such obvious deliberation that you could simply read their faces. Agano was one such person, starting out with a brief pitstop at Confusion Station, then over to Loch Awareness before finally screeching to a dead halt on the white hot shores of Ocean Implosion.
"Are you saying I'm heavy? You're saying it, aren't you? That's awful!" Agano wailed. "You're awful!"
"I'm
right," Amatsukaze countered.
Now if I didn't think it biologically abhorrent, I'd say this little lady here needed to be born with a longer neck, all the better to look down on the breathing debris that so overpopulated our universe.
"That still makes you awful!" The cruiser moaned, clutching her head. "I'm not fat! I'm well rounded! Well rounded, you hear me?"
"Eh," the destroyer said with a shrug, "whatever makes you feel better."
I for my part sidled over to where the quantum of the universe leaned more towards 'sanity'; that is, where my partner, her blonde sister, and Fubuki presently stood.
"This normal around here?"
Yuudachi gave a surprisingly dainty snort.
"Like, y'think?"
True. A perfectionist and a ditz walk into a bar…
"And you two?"
"Just discussing some future plans." Suzy chirped. "I was just saying that we'd like a class reunion if we can get the people!"
Yuudachi leaned in.
"Or two, if we count Bucky's crew! Or maybe," and here the blonde paused - a rare moment, no doubt. "we could do a twofer. A reunion union!" The blonde nudged her neighbour in the side. "Eh, Bucky?"
The eponymous
Fubuki-class in the side started. An incomprehensible thing, of course. Utterly so: I mean, why would any sensible person take time out in their busy, crapshoot idle talk-filled schedules, to stare dreamy-eyed at some Plain John making himself unwelcome in Social Inertia Corner, as if that might impel him to go thither?
But as it was wont to do, reality reasserted itself, and Fubuki started from her reverie. A pity. I figured things were just about to get good.
"Ah. Uh." She sputtered. "Yeah! But would that be alright? I don't think we'd be able to keep up with you
Shiratsuyus. We, well, weren't the most-"
But Fubuki would get no further talking herself down the basement, as a hand descended from on high to clap her on the shoulder.
"None of that!" Yuudachi declared. "We'll be great! Just you wait!" Then without warning, her voice fell to
sotto voce. "Ah, but one can never tell, you know? What with these psions we've got: a couple with their head in the clouds, one guy with eyes on arse, plus one suicidal hero type. Ah, what's a girl to do?"
"Hey now, Yuudachi," JD cut in from the side, "I'll have you know that I-urk!"
"That you what now?"
Now those words sounded innocent enough. But it would take a subtler quirk of lip to escape my long-honed Smug Detector.
Nor did it escape Fubuki's, for that matter.
"Yuu," she chided, before walking over and taking JD's hand, pulling him towards us from where he had stood a meter too many adrift. "You're going overboard again."
Yuudachi struggled not to roll her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Just ribbing 'em that one last time, come on now."
On the contrary, I doubt we have seen the last of your overwhelming desire to get the final word in any argument, young lady.
Which made three of us, if you added in our silver haired wonder over there nailing our ostensible lead ship to the nearest wall. I almost felt bad for the cruiser. Had to be tough herding a cat -and perhaps it was a trick of the hairstyling, but Amatsukaze did look just a little like one- whose goal in life seemed to be herding you instead.
"Ethel?"
Suzy asked, but my feet were already carrying me towards the scene of soon-to-be verbal manslaughter.
"One moment, Suzy," I replied. "Excuse me? Excuse me!"
Two heads turned to face me, and my if their expressions -one genuinely curious, and the other the thrice-distilled essence of 'glower'- could not be more different.
"I don't believe we've met! Ethel." I thrust my hand out towards the dark-haired cruiser. "Ethel Deschantes."
"Ichinomiya Akino!" The Agano-class' name-ship's face lacked any trace of relief whatsoever as she shook my hand. Guess some people were just that glad to meet new folks, huh? "And this is-"
"We met yesterday, you dolt," Amatsukaze said flatly.
"Oh. Yesterday." Agano almost seemed to mull that last word over, like a child contemplating their first snowfall. "Ah, right! Suzy did mention that!"
"You know what?" Amatsukaze threw both hands up in the air in frustration. "I'm just done here. So done."
"And it is good that you are," a familiar voice interjected.
Men, sound the cornets! Let all rise for Lady Reiner the Responsible, chaser of deadlines, leader of ships, and grandmaster of approaches undetected. Seriously. What are you, woman, a submarine?
Such were my thoughts as Amanda strode towards us amid a flurry of swift and swiftly dismissed salutes, not least among them ours. A single glacial eye swept across us as we returned to at-ease positions. It passed over our young ladies without incident, but stopped to measure and find my rumpled left uniform lapel wanting. A stare longer still was reserved for JD's dishevelment. We straightened ourselves out posthaste. No telling what might happen to bad little boys who didn't fix their clothes.
"I see we have all been acquainted."
Graf Zeppelin's avatar began. "And it is good to see that you two are-" she paused, regarding my companion again. "-reasonably healthy."
"I'll survive, ma'am," said he, abashed. "Just a little run-down."
"Well, I hope you didn't hit your head or anything."
"Uh, actually," JD scratched the back of his ear. "I probably did?"
"'Probably'?"
"I don't quite remember."
"Do you? Well, I admit to only having a little bird for sources," and here she gave me a sidelong glance, "but I heard you had some...help with that last night. That might have had something to do with it."
"Huh?" JD followed suit, turning to me. "I did?"
I shrugged.
"Don't look at me. I turned in early."
Yup. Nothing to see here, just a man with an ironclad alibi. Not that iron has had a spot in the top fifty toughest materials since, well, forever. But don't let that stop you from being more context-blind than the average visually impaired person. I mean, there's no way a random man sized hill prediction-barrelling his way into your drunken romantics and then hauling you back to our room could have been an inside job. Right?
"Indeed, I do recall you making an early exit."
And I'd have thought that Amanda might have -for her part- tried to prod JD in my general direction a little further. Though to be fair to her, a conspiratory upswing to the lips was usually enough to tip one off to afoot plots. But not JD, apparently. The dark haired young man glanced from one of us to the other, confusion -by Jove, genuine confusion!- rampant on his features.
Ah, innocence. Best to change the subject.
"Speaking of things we do or don't recall…no one told me you ladies could get drunk at all."
Amanda arched an eyebrow at me, something I returned in kind plus a shrug
gratis.
"Our observations remain inconsistent on the matter," said she, folding her white-sleeved arms.
"Interesting."
"Indeed. You'll have to ask Liz for the specifics. As for myself, I have never been inebriated." The very edge of her lips quirked upward again, faintly. "Though perhaps replacing my Balorium fuel reserves with beer might produce interesting results."
Results I would gladly fund, milady, if only to learn what karma had in store for people who suggested ideas this idiotic.
"I suppose. And speaking of which, where
is Liz?" I wondered. "
Zero nine thirty. Lab Block, Lab Four. We need to meet. No offense, but I do hope she hasn't forgotten about that."
"Come to think of it," Yuudachi noted, interposing herself as the third corner of our conversation. "I don't see Nora or Shal anywhere either. Where've they gone?
"Ah. That." Odd. One would think tardiness was exactly the sort of thing that got Amanda all riled up. But it seemed the time for that had come and long gone, leaving in its wake only resignation. "They'll be meeting us there, I'm afraid."
"You're afraid? Of what? That they'll be late?"
"No. I'm afraid they're already there."
"Ma'am," I objected, "Eris' mag-locks are still warming up."
"That they are."
Her reply was almost a sigh.
Well then. If one could not choose to shun the snare, one may as well spring it.
"Point being," I continued, "I don't see how they managed that. What, did they teleport across or something?"
=====
"You did
what."
My eyes were accusation itself - but alas, Mraliz Vorkros knew not the meaning of guilt.
"Uh huh."
"That can't be."
"As surely as I live and breathe."
"You're insane."
"Exactly. And it was great. You should try it sometime," the Benthos declared.
Of course. Especially when all about us lies scattered the detritus of greatness: ground zero was a raised circular platform, unique in its relative pristineness - albeit where 'relative' meant looking like someone had dropped a tank on it and then swung the vehicle around the room like Samson's chosen jawbone.
Some of resulting spiral rents had torn clean though the surface to reveal heavily reinforced cabling, the purpose of which I neither knew nor really wanted to. That which radiated outward from there could only be called utter destruction, despite the best efforts of maintenance automatons scuttling about performing cleanup duty.
Entire racks of computing consoles had been knocked tail over teakettle, their accompanying chairs and lab benches hurled hard at the walls hard enough for them to splinter. An unlucky few had been crushed, folded in on themselves. A grim reminder of what might have happened had we not been as swift as we had been in the battle only a few days prior, and a dead giveaway as to the experiments that had taken place here.
Or so the latter should have been, had I not guessed at it already.
So had Suzy, apparently, cradling her face in one hand from where she stood on my right.
"You could've died, you know," she groaned.
"A small step for Mraliz Vorkros, a huge step for science!"
Liz exulted from her perch: one of the few intact seats left in the lab, this one by virtue of being both bolted down to the ground, and being at least half the room across from ground zero at what I only presume had -pre hail of debris- been a small bar. Three others reclined at said bar. Nora and Yag Shal Troie, all-too-pleased co-conspirators in this dastardliness, and their partnered
Agano-class cruiser.
"And how do you plead?"
"Came along for the ride!" Nora cheered, swinging back and forth on her own as-yet unwrecked bar stool, causing it to creak in protest. "Also, I plead 'bored'! We've been waiting for all of you for a bit, you know?"
"Hmm." Huh. So Ichinomiya Akino had a fine Lake Placid impression to go with the 'silly elder sister' routine. A necessary code switch, and one that fit the vantage position she had taken up upon the bar table, from which she -and one gunmetal-sheen disk-shaped cleanerbot- kept vigil over our two eager partners in crime. "I don't think you answered his question, Nora."
Mmm. Make that necessary, fitting, and one that served us both well.
"Indeed," I chipped on. "I was asking why you're
still here."
"No offense," Suzy agreed, "But I agree. This place is a warzone."
"Doctor's orders~"
Yes, Blonde Cherry Sunshine. Very informative.
As if sensing my thoughts -funny how that possibility was so literal now- Yag-Shal lifted a regal hand from where he reclined upon the bar table itself, a king amidst the wrack of his own empire.
"It is a routine checkup, nothing more," the gold-armored Anguirian noted, his baritone taking on a dramatic flair. "Our good scholars have been keeping tabs on our additional psionic burden, though we bear it gladly, and wish to report on whether it breeds trouble in us apace or no."
"Huh." Suzy wondered. "I'd have thought Yuu and the others would want to be here for this. Don't you think so?"
"Ah."
Suddenly, Yag Shal was not so much a bipedal reptilian giant as someone who'd just been told that their most embarrassing childhood memory had been immortalized on the walls of City Hall. Akino looked like she had bitten on a lemon. Heck, even Nora's brows were in hunker down mode.
Three seconds was far too long a time for Suzy to take to realize that she might have just dropped some massive bomb.
"So, um," she began. "I'm sorry-"
But no sooner did I think that than did the lab's cratered, pitted blast door open with a rusty hiss.
Why hello there, Graf's
more resigned spirit sister, I thought to myself. For beyond the two sliding panes two eyes framed by dark orange hair and cheeks only just hinting at gauntness stared out at us: black and black-ringed, and so, so done with our bullshit.
"Mira-"
Not that the universe cared what you were or were not done with, of course. Sometimes the universe dictated that a half-octopus in an exosuit would close the distance between you in a single bound, before flinging themselves at and catch you in a rib-s `hattering hug.
Such, I suppose, was the fate of Commander Lyn Yaya Emmanuel: Head Researcher, Eris Shipyards, and one of our very first trainers, albeit in the same touch and go way that everything but the sim training had been. The passing introduction upon arrival and subsequent cameos in instructional or general orders holos had made up the bulk of what we knew of her. But it was enough for us to know that this put upon and put through the busiwork wringer look was normal for the Commander. The frazzled haid, the spots where light makeup struggled against dark eye rings, and not to mention the barely veiled resentment against the powers that chiseled into the bedrock of her features; features that shifted nary a hair even in her friend's iron grip.
"Yaya!" Liz exulted. "So good to see you again!"
"Call me that one more time, and I will put you headfirst through a centrifuge till your nanostructure suffers permanent fractures. And incidentally, unhand me this instant."
"Cheerful as a flatlining heartbeat as usual," The Benthos remarked, "didn't I recommend that you get therapy for that?"
"Unnecessary."
"Unnecessary? Just look at you!" Liz made a show of fainting away, releasing her victim in the process. "Oh, I feel so sorry for Akachin. How does she even live with such a clod?"
"None of your damn business," the Benthos' newly freed victim growled. "And speaking of business…"
Dusting herself off with a mollified look, the lean, labcoat-clad woman turned to me.
"Welcome back, Deschantes, Onjouji, Ichinomiya."
"Hey," Agano waved.
"Heya!"
So did Suzy. Which left it up to me to be contrarian, of course, and to that effect I tipped two fingers off my forehead in an informal salute.
"Ma'am."
"Hey," Nora piped up. "Why don't we get a welcome?"
Yaya rolled her eyes.
"I'm not certain," she said. "Perhaps you could tell me about it after I outstay my welcome by almost leveling one of your laboratories."
The scientist turned to Suzy and I.
"Now while I wish I could have greeted you all earlier and with more enthusiasm at your continued health, some unexpected messes-" and here a withering glare was cast Liz's way, "-had to be cleaned up first, and much besides needs to be addressed. This means we have a lot of ground to cover."
Sweeping the debris off another still-intact chair, Yaya sat down.
"So, shall we begin?"
======
Note to self: next time you get a lecture from a member of the Advanced Warfare Research Division, at least ask for a recap slide.
Seriously, in this Yaya and Liz were as two peas in pod. Sure, one was a xenomorphic lean mean touchy-feely machine, while the other seemed liable for a hive breakout if sentient contact got any closer than a dozen meters. But give either of them a platform, an OmniPad and no time limit, and they could talk the nearest main sequence star through a mid-life crisis.
"So to sum up, we're hunky dory?"
Thank goodness for the art of summary. And guess whose awesomest littlest shipgirl buddy happened to be a maestro at that?
Yes. That's right. Yours truly.
"A gross oversimplification." Yaya's face teetered on the edge of a frown. "We have been
lucky. A far more complicated affair."
The scientist paced, every step a judge's gavel - and with a hawk's glare to go with to boot.
"Allow me to reiterate. In the first, we were lucky that righteous cause coincided with critical recovery on Sancaid Prime," Yaya began, nailing Liz to the wall dead-on with but a gaze. "Following that, fortuitous personnel selection somehow weathered over-lax standards for personnel deployment - despite the presence of cooler heads."
Those molten black pools then swung to catch both myself and Suzy in their crosshairs.
"We were then fortunate that cellular regeneration treatment was sufficient insurance against reckless heroism.
"And finally, after all that, some dingus who knows post-FTL mechanics better than she can tell her left hand from her right decided to brave the three in ten thousand odds of leveling everything in a nine mile radius of this lab in a Warp Terminus Crush - and won that bet." "So while it is understandable that in some circles this would pass for 'hunky dory', I would argue that we have, instead, only just passed the point where one should be in constant anticipatory trembling for the next catastrophic backfire."
Well. I was no expert linguist, but I reckoned this would pass in any circle for 'one heck of an earful'.
A worrying one, too, if the shadow over Yag Shal's face was any consideration.
"I hope all this preamble does not precede this backfire you speak of."
Severity suffused every syllable...and by powers combined they hit Yaya Emanuel with all the force of water upon lacquer-work.
"On the contrary, you're our one source of good news." The scientist replied. "We had our doubts, but your psionic vitals have thus far only shown a stabilizing trend. You're in the pink of health, and getting rosier."
"Ha!" Nora puffed her chest out. "Guess we're just great that way, eh?"
"So we hope you will remain," Yaya noted drily. Unbridled enthusiasm was a rare gem, who knew? "The alternative would be unpalatable."
Suzy cocked an eyebrow.
"Alternatives? To what?"
Our two resident researchers exchanged a brief glance, the darker eyes more insistent by far. Liz sighed, and then turned back to us.
"Well, Onjouji," she said, "I'm sure you understand by now that the Primer's 'one psion one shipgirl' thing was just placeholder information."
Read: misleading.
My partner nodded.
"What we haven't told you, or much of anyone really, is why that can sometimes be the case."
"Our case was one of simple coincidence. A use of Eris' summoning facilities that should have brought two ships gave us three instead," "We knew even less then than the little we do now about the process. So in the absence of a third psion to be found at the time, the arrangement was simply allowed to stand. An experiment, if you will."
"And a risk, albeit one that paid off," Yaya continued. "But while these off-cases have usually proved informative, they have not always proved so fair-starred."
Tapping her OmniPad, she performed the by now familiar 'catch and toss' motion, bringing its contents up onto the scarred walls.
The face that greeted us was striking. Not so much for its age, but the way it wore those years, as if this were not the era of mandatory telomere treatment - not to mention all the optionals.
"Meet Lieutenant Commander Abram Magayon." Yaya began almost immediately, giving us no time for further discomfort. "He was the partner of the
Fubuki-class destroyer
Murakumo, summoning her on the 16th of May this year."
Well. I took that last statement back.
'Was'. That word rang in my mind with a wet gulp, the psionic echo of Suzy's very physical response to the news.
"He remains, at ninety-two years, one of our most senior psions if we measured age-upon-discovery," Yaya continued. "It did go well at first, just so you know. But suffice it to say that by early June it was obvious that something was wrong. Our diagnosis came back as immune-based telomere bond rejection: rare from a genetic standpoint, but not unheard of.
Mura's a bright girl. Perhaps a bit too bright: she got it into her pretty head that
she might be at fault with Abram's sudden deterioration. Not that this made things better at all. In fact, it did the exact opposite. I won't go over the details; I believe you both understand why."
Yes, thank you for that. Just remembering that one elective in Genetics that went over accelerated multiple organ failure could make me green in the face. And let's not even talk about Suzy. I had no words for what I was hearing from her at the moment, though the 'chalkboard threnody of a thousand psychic cats' was close, if somewhat charitable.
"It got to the point where we had to make a switch, post-haste. Turned out that Abram's grandkid, Darius, was also in the military. Had the lad tested, came up positive psionic. We got lucky. Or so we thought." The orange-haired scientist's constant grimace grew deeper still. "Abram Magayon passed away on the 2nd of July this year. Never once did he have any more than a lukewarm response to treatment."
Judging by the awful silence that gripped the room for the next few forevers, the old saying that seeing a plunge coming from mile away only made things worse held true.
"How are they now?"
Suzy's voice was all too quiet.
"Alright." Yaya replied.
"All things considered," she added far too soon.
"That is to say, 'not speaking'. At all. They don't even
argue. Or at least, not that we can hear. And not including what they say during training." Naked exasperation tinged Liz's voice. "Some of our most muddle-headed call it 'competence'. Or a 'bond'. Both of which they have in spades, make no mistake! Take Matsu, multiply her by an order of magnitude, you get Mura. Maybe it runs in the silver hair or something."
The Benthos folded her three default pairs of arms akimbo.
"But I don't like it," she finished. "It's just not healthy to be that way."
"And you taking these two out for their first jaunt at less than half the usual training time was healthy," Yaya grumbled.
"You agreed to it."
"I agreed that you should 'bring' them along, not 'deploy' them."
"Well, needs must when they do?"
"Needs must. Yes. Fine. Sure. Because heaven forbid that you should ever stop chasing that-" The scientist threw up her hands. "-ugh, nevermind!"
Hmmm. Something to file away for later. But for now, Hurricane Emanuel needed a little deflection.
"To be fair, I think we did wind up needing as many hands as we could get."
"Please don't defend her." Well, she was damn well deflected alright. And in my general direction too. Wonderful. "Damn it, Deschantes, you almost ended up in a body bag! Have a little awareness. And if not for your own sake..."
The wind left the human scientist's sails even as her gaze fell upon my partner. Ah, the power of who a look troubled enough to star in a Simon and Garfunkel remix video. But Yaya Emanuel was not one for extended sentimentality. Stilling her features in short order, she began to speak again.
"You might be wondering why this conversation was necessary. And why only one out of three of the Troie shipgirls is present with us."
"Yes." Suzy said little. But even through what limited mindspace we shared I could hear ten thousand gears in hers putting the lie to her lack of eloquence, grinding, turning, churning. "Yes. I do wonder that. Why is that?"
"The second is simpler to talk. Let me tell you this, Onjouji. As far as we're concerned, you girls are industrial crock pot of bullshit we haven't begun to properly understand. But one thing we know almost for certain is that emotional strength is the bedrock -or the shifting sand- on which your and your partner's well-being rests.
"And it is an amazing thing, capable of feats both subtle and wondrous: the connecting of two or more minds, the moving of mountains with but a single thought. Yet at the same time, we cannot ignore the way in which it puts its own users at risk." Yaya paused. "Please understand."
And then for the first time since I'd known her, I felt something erupt from within Suzy.
"'Please understand'. Really. Is that it?"
"What's 'it'?"
Lyn's voice was wary.
"Is this what this is about? 'We don't want to hurt them'. Is that all?" Something bubbled just underneath the calm in those words, seething and hissing. "That's great, coming from people who willingly participate in highly destructive experiments," a cool blue eye flicked itself at Yaya, "and whose response to these experiments somehow isn't tossing everyone involved into the brig for a night or two."
Woah. Find me a rank that could shield you from the sting of that, and I'd give an arm to have it.
"Now, Suzy, that's hardly fair," Yag Shal protested. "We would hardly still be alive if we could not weigh the necessity of the risks we took."
"Well, yeah. It's just that, with kids, sometimes you just gotta-" Oh. Oh my. Was that a pause for consideration, for actual thought? Would wonders never cease. "we have three, you know? Back at home, with the relatives. Sometimes you gotta step more carefully around them."
"More carefully?" Suzy shot back, undeterred. "More fearfully, you mean. And in all the wrong places! Do you know what I think? Let me tell you. Nevermind the crazy experiments! Nevermind the general craziness. When it comes down to it, you're afraid! You underestimate them, and yourselves. Would it make you happier if any of them -and one of them is right here!- had you disappear from their lives without ever knowing why?"
It doesn't have to be like that. I know both of you know deep down -far better than even I could now- that they would stick by you to whatever end. Yuu's a bit loopy and Matsu's kinda a dick. Sure. But we'd never leave a comrade to just rot, much less the people who brought us back into this world. But we're in this one together, and we'll fight it out together." It was almost unnoticeable, but Suzy had begun to tremble just a little. "If what we've heard here is true, then all the more a relationship based on secrets, no matter how well-intentioned, will fall apart once exposed. And it pains me to think that those very people who share our minds, even if a little, would try to pretend otherwise!"
Her voice, having risen to an unbearable crescendo, now gave way to a far worse silence. But it did not last, the sound of a lone pair of hands clapping rising up almost immediately to take its place.
"Hehe," Agano said as she applauded, her smile gentle but not at all naive. "I couldn't agree more."
Liz's smile was positively solar, nevermind that she had just been both called out, and told by a junior officer that she deserved a military style timeout.
"That was beautifully put, my dear."
Make that three of us in the 'crazy impressed' side of Parliament. Guess the whole 'Don't Pick Up Ethel's Shitty Habits' seminar I had prepared could be shelved for a later date.
"I'm sorry, ma'am." Suzy said, apropos Yaya. She did not meet the Commander's eyes. "Was there anything else you meant to discuss?"
For her part, Lyn Emanuel seemed rather composed - or at least until she leaned back against the nearest table with a long sigh.
"Well, there should have been. But we'll stop here: I think we've gotten more than we bargained for for today. Just take note: you were made privy to this information largely because Battlegroup Gradivus will receive new orders soon, and a major part of that will be the decision whether or not to take the Magayon-Murakumo pair on board when they ship back in to Eris with our live fire training squad in two days."
"Believe you me, our next mission is very demanding, and we'll need every functioning ton of firepower we can scrounge up for it - emphasis on 'functioning'." Picking one shattered piece of glass out of the reach of a cleanerbot, Yaya stared into it as if to scry from it the secrets of the universe. Or perhaps, more simply, the secrets of ignoring a robot's almost indignant squawks at having been suddenly deprived of its sacred duty. "If you don't believe yourselves ready for the task, Battlegroup Parthia will be back from the Reaver Stars by the weekend next, and I will take up the issue with them next. This is just a show of hands, nothing final. But what do you say?"
"...If my vote means anything," Suzy replied, a little too quietly. "I'll take them."
"My vote is hers," I added.
"As will I," Agano said. "Hagi-chan probably has enough on her plate right now as it is." Her smile turned impish. "And anyhoo, I'm too horrible an elder sister as it is to also have this on my conscience!"
"I daresay the matter is half decided already, then," Yag Shal observed, his gaze severe but thoughtful, even chastised. "I thank you for your honesty, Lady Suzukaze. I- we, may have measured you poorly when we first met. We will have a long talk with Yuu and Matsu about this matter, among others. But first, we need a bit of time to consider."
"Please do." Suzy just barely grit out through the shaking. "Then if you'll excuse me-!"
And away she went, legs making a tear for the door.
So much in a hurry was Suzy to vibrate right out of the room that she failed to notice the sliding panes opening far too soon to permit her exit to have been caused by her passing, thus treating us to the sight of Amanda Reiner suddenly having to jink to the right to avoid getting a chestful of fleeing destroyer.
The blonde carrier watched my partner go for a good many seconds, before finally turning back to us,
mene mene tekel upharsin written all over her face in divine script renewed.
"Well, I see things escalated while I was away," Amanda noted. "Regretting any life decisions at this point, Ethel Deschantes?"
I shrugged.
"Not that I recall having any choice in this matter."
"True," the carrier conceded. "But if you do not mind dealing with the sins of your fathers, I believe your partner was last seen headed in the direction of the Observation Gallery, above the Summoning Hall. Do you remember the way there?"
"Mostly."
"Only mostly?" The Graf Zeppelin Special -deadpan face, mischievous eyes- was in full effect as Amanda leaned over one of our cleanerbots as it corralled more debris for disposal. "CR2045-Z1, Guide Mode. Navigate to Sector S3."
With an almost cheery
bleep boop boo breeeeee, the bot laid its burdens down and began puttering. its way out the room.
"Now follow that star, Ethel."
I will deal with this mess, a sudden flash of a thin smile finished for her.
I didn't need to be told twice.
"Seeya later!"
Agano called after me even as the door shut, leaving me alone with the CR-Z unit.
"So. Just you and me, huh?"
Bling, the maintenance type sounded by manner of 'reply', before turning to leave.
"Curt fellow." I joked, to no one in particular. A picky one too, to gift the lady four words and myself but one. "But lay on, Macduff. I'll be right with you."
======
'So much ostentation.'
That thought never failed to cross my mind when viewing the Summoning Dome.
Sure, the alibi given was a decent one: something something alien technology, blah blah early project staff decisions to blame, yadda yadda suitably foreign aesthetic used to 'set the tone'.
Given the character profile in our command staff so far, one could only imagine the great architectural luminaries who had envisioned the soaring hexagon of inner walls, the gold-silver trim and inlay in them that mimicked trees, and the glowing vertical white crawl of foreign runology that ran down from the ceiling to the floor, where lay in state a white circle similarly adorned, large enough from end to end to allow a
Catha to land.
Incomprehensibly ancient, and ringing by a tongue that echoes through space, indeed.
Real mystics they must have been. I mean, the fact was that all alien furniture I'd witnessed so far had preferred a more, ah, minimalist approach. So if anything the Dome was but an ironic monument to our ever complicated relationship with the god called science. Or a horrendous abuse of budget surplus that could no longer be taken back, depending on your point of view.
Regardless, it made sense that Suzy should be here. Eris Shipyards' Summoning Dome was, understood science or not, the birthplace of all shipgirls. Here these ancient ladies of war were once again given form, given
our form, and from here they were sent forth.
Until her.
What did that mean - for her, for us, who now knew that this one exception was hardly so singular and inconsequential as we might first have thought? What did it mean for this place? I could not say.
But what I could do, I would.
"Run along now, little buddy," I half-whispered to the maintenance bot. What was its name again. CR20-something-Z1? Yeah. Something like that. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta-"
But the robot was already shuffling away to its next task, nary another sound made in its departure.
"Perceptive fellow." I saluted him with a chuckle, before returning to my quarry. "Hey, Suzy."
The shipgirl in question was practically draped across one of the viewing gallery rails, a fact that rendered her half-hearted attempt to turn towards me but a mere bob of the head.
"First sortie into open seas, and I steer us right into an iceberg," she muttered. "Great job, huh?"
"A real masterpiece." That made her look up, and with the best 'are you kidding me' face I'd ever seen her muster. Hello, newsflash - you're partially in my head. Figure that out for yourself. "Worthy of the Hagia Sophia's own frescoes."
That got a snort.
"Ha ha. Very funny."
"Oh, I'm aware," I quipped.
Were there any energy behind it, Suzy's half-head-turned stare would have been withering.
"Ethel. Be serious. There were a half dozen other things we could have gone over in that time." Then she looked away again, heaving a deep sigh. "But I-"
"Shouted down four superior officers hard enough to warrant half a lifetime in the doghouse?" I shrugged. "Eh, we'll be fine."
Now that got me a real reaction. Suzy brought herself back up to a standing position, her eyes searching my face with the barest hint of suspicion.
"Fine?" She half-hissed. "Who are you, and what did you do to Ethel?"
Oi, little lady. Watch that tone or you'll get the Cocked Eyebrows treatment.
Or we can give it to you anyway, whichever.
"I'm being serious here," I protested.
"Well, so am I! The Ethel I know would almost be angry if he didn't get the chance to talk everyone's ears off about the newest secrets that the super mysterious voice in his head just told him about-" Man, it was always fun to watch the wheels in someone's mind turn my way, slowly by surely arriving at inevitable self-realization. "-Oh. Right."
"Yeah." I shrugged my right shoulder. "Right."
"Not even a peep? Seriously?"
"Nope." Now, Lady Incredulous. I sympathize with you. Really, I do. But sometimes things is as they is. "I guess it's taking its own sweet-ass time."
"Uh-huh," Suzy replied. "And wouldn't that be an awkward conversation to have?"
"Actually, I was just going to tell it like it is. But-"
My OmniPad chose that very moment to beep,
[New Message (1)] flashing across its small screen. It was text-only, and the sender ID masked. But the tone of voice left no doubt as to its origin.
[Heya~ Hope it's going well with Suzy. But it probably is; I trust you at much at least.] Oh you. How could anyone
ever doubt me?
[In case you thought we're just shooting the breeze back here, we aren't. Your Sigma-level data privileges have just been unlocked. Enjoy - Cmdr M. Vorkros.]
"Scroll down," Suzy noted, leaning over my shoulder. "There's more."
[P.S. You can thank me later. Convincing everyone to wait and see was a pain and a half!]
"'Wait and see?'" The shipgirl murmured, more to herself than to me. "This really is an odd day."
"Meaning?"
"I didn't think anyone could be this, well, laid back about something as compromising as an unknown factor in your head," she replied, scratching her head, "let alone everyone."
"On the contrary, I'd say you're too jumpy." I held out a hand in front of me to stave off what was surely the inbound counterpoint. "Hear me out. See, we don't know if it's something in my head to stay, as opposed to a one-off visitor. Nor do we have any way of finding out with our present knowledge of psionics, let alone figure out any motive for helping us on Sancaid Prime - save that it did do so. That makes continued quarantine unwarranted so far as we know, even stupid if we're hurting for manpower as much as they say."
I turned my back to the Dome, leaning against the railing.
"So if you think about it that way, 'watch and wait' is a safe course of action. Maybe even the best one. In the worst case, we might lose something we never even knew how to keep or contain. But if not, we may learn something new from a -as far as we know- benign force far beyond us in this field. I know which option I'd pick."
"Not that I have no misgivings about it, mind you," I added quickly. "But as in many other things, I make the best of what I'm given."
And sometimes making the best of things meant convincing a certain shipgirl that no, she had not made a big of a mess as she might have thought in speaking truth.
Another curtain of quiet descended over us. The good sort this time, more comfy satin and linens, and less 'coarse and rough and threatening confrontation around every corner'. Indeed I did not need to probe at all to sense that the cloud that had hung over Suzy since...the midpoint of the incident at the lab if I were to be honest, had become a fair sight less grey.
Not wholly dispersed yet, mind, and with good reason. But we'd take what we could get.
Then she chuckled, breaking that silence with its gentle tune.
"You know, sometimes I do wish we shared minds more than we do."
I looked at her askance.
"Oh, really?"
"I mean, I usually wouldn't even dream of it! You're morose, depressing, and try to see the worst in almost everyone." My, if someone wasn't all too pleased to have gotten that off her her chest. "But sometimes," she continued, a thrice-damned grin on her face, "you
do have something bright to say."
"That's quite the vote of confidence," I quipped right back.
Suzy rolled her eyes.
"You're incorrigible." Then the destroyer's look sobered. "So. Murakumo, huh?"
"Sounds like they need time," I said.
"Experience?" My partner asked.
"Just from the spectator stands. Sometimes the VIP box."
Suzy quirked an eyebrow in response.
"No firsthand knowledge?"
"Ha! Never had the misfortune," I almost scoffed.
"Cold fish."
"That's me," I acknowledged. Shame, mine face I do callouse against thee.
"Like I said, incorrigible," Suzy chided with a shake of her head, before reprising her usual smile. "But you're right. They do need time, and quality time at that!"
"Yeah, well, that's definitely where you girls come in." I shrugged. "Can't say I've ever been any good at making the mood better."
"A cold fish and a short sell! What are the odds?"
What were the odds, indeed. What were the odds of anything, really - to say nothing of the cosmic jigsaw that must have clicked in place, that some human stripling looking for his place in the galaxy should find it, today and for time foreseeable to come, next to a literal ghost of the past reforged into flesh and steel.
But that was neither here nor there. For now, 'what Jezebel wants', eh?
"Eh. I'll do what I can." I conceded. "But no guarantees."
"I know."
Yes. You know me, indeed. You know Ethel Deschantes: always a little aloof, always a bit lukewarm, always a tad slow to commit if not pushed against the brink.
Placing one hand against the falsely transparent walls that separated us and the Dome below, I turned to face Suzy.
"So. Any ideas on what to do?"
"A few so far," the destroyer replied.
But once committed - well then, we'll see, won't we?
"Well, two brains are better than one," I said, wearing a grin of my own. "Let's hear 'em."
=== To be continued in Chapter 11: Cloudy, With A Chance of Warp Storms ===
