Year: 2157 CE (Standard Terran Calendar)
Location: Von Colony
Derek had been agitated from some discovery in the “global archives” buried deep. Whatever it was must have been awful - or better have been to be worth getting out of bed this early.
But no one, nothing, could have prepared Sophia for what she saw. Arthur was already there. So was Alice. “I thought it was a myth.”
“No. He was…that kind of person definitely leaves a memoir. I believed it when I heard about it. But…this…I never thought I’d be looking at it.”
“What am I looking at?”
“The Nihilus Testament. The manifesto of Nils Andover and his Inner Circle.”
Year: 328 AC (Gaianist Calendar) During the Surge (Almost 200 years later)
Location: Nihilon Camp Ruin, Frostreach, 27 Kilometers from Seattle.
Pike could barely believe the artifact he held. Bound in laminated pages, still effective, legible after all these years. Vile, the lamination. Poisonous. But it had maintained an artifact from the old world, one he had scarcely believed existed. One that…
Year: 352 AC
Location: Arcata, Archives
Tyler looked at the item they had been handed by River. “This is…”
“Recovered by Pike during the mop up after the surge. It’s…the only known copy.”
Tyler looked at it, and then identified the seal on it, and felt sick, as though the pages had been made of human skin rather than laminated paper. “This is…his. Nils Andover’s.”
“Or from his first Disciples, yeah. We could read it. Learn what…makes someone like that. We’re supposed to learn, not just bury.”
Reed took a breath.
***
The first chapter had revealed the worst horror they could have imagined.
Nils Andover, the False Messiah, Accelerationist Demon of the Old World, Nihilus Rex…
As a young man, he hadn’t been that different from any of them. Just in a world that bred monsters.
Knowing what he’d become just made it that much worse.
This one got away from me. I meant for it to just be some filler, but it turned into a serious conversation, somehow. Those wily OCs keep getting away from me. *Spots one sneaking out the door* Hey! Get back here!
By the virtue of having to proof the pizza dough, Maverick managed to dash into our quarters with just enough time to shower and change before sitting down with us for dinner. He gulped down a glass of wine before even reaching for any food, nodding his thanks to Antoine as he handed the glass back. Conor and I glanced at each other, concerned: Maverick rarely drank with dinner, and if he did it was usually sparingly.
He must have caught our glance. “My hands are shaking and my back is a mess of knots from checking – and I quote – ‘everything in the lab that may have had anything to do with the construction of the platforms, along with any equipment that may have interacted with them after construction’. So sayeth Grey Hodenson.” He paused to stuff a fish-laden slice of pizza in his mouth. “Mmph. Sorry. Hey, Zach.”
“That’s literally every piece of equipment in BioLab 2 and the fabrication lab,” Conor interjected. “Grey is making you do all that?”
Maverick shook his head. “Huynh is coming down on everyone with this, Con. Grey’s just protecting their technicians and researchers.”
“What about Xiomara?” I asked, waving my hand to grab their attention before glancing at my sister. “I mean, the platforms being unsafe would fall under her department, right?”
Tyche picked up on what I was hinting at. “Does she even know about this issue?”
Conor glanced back and forth between us for a moment. “I – I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve been so caught up in defending myself that I didn’t even think to ask.”
“If Councillor Hodenson knows, would they not think to pass the information on to her?” Antoine asked reasonably.
It was my turn to shake my head. “Don’t you remember on Level One? Grey gets incredibly forgetful when they’re under extreme duress. With the recent gravity increase, I don’t think anyone has been sleeping all that well. Derek told me earlier that he’s been having nightmares. I know the three of us haven’t been sleeping worth a damn.” I gestured between myself and my two partners-cum-guard dogs.
“Surprised you can sleep at all, the way Maverick snores,” Zach snickered, earning a half-hearted glare and the confiscation of a slice of pizza from his plate. “Hey!” he protested weakly.
Still staring him down, I took the biggest bite I could manage of the slice in my hand before sliding the rest of the pizza on the table toward him. “Be nice,” I admonished around my stolen mouthful. “The point is, Xio may not know about the situation. I’ll touch base with her tomorrow, first thing.”
Later, Tyche and I were sitting in the living room while the guys were cleaning up and joking around in the food-prep area. “Does he do that often?” she asked, referring to the earlier situation with Conor.
“Hmm? Oh, umm…. No? Not really?” I scrunched my nose. “This is the first time I’ve known him to do it while someone else was here?”
She looked at me skeptically. “Mon soeur…” she started with the same fond tone that she usually reserved for calling me ‘silly bitch’.
“I’m not lying, you can have Noah check the recordings later. I swear. Yes, he does lose his temper sometimes, but he makes a point to ask me and Maverick to leave while he calms down or warns us before we get home that he had a bad day and needs some time to himself. I can’t really think of any time that it’s been something one of us did that set it off – usually it’s work or a hydroponic project that gets him that frustrated. We didn’t even know that he was throwing things until we came back for something once, thinking he was just laying in bed or reading a book or something, and we caught the mess he had made while he was cleaning it up.”
She seemed reluctantly mollified. “I really thought for a second that… Anyway, assuming you are telling the truth – and I will check – it makes sense that he was so upset when you walked in earlier. But if I check with Noah, and he tells me a different story…” She left the threat hanging as she gave me a pointed look.
“Check all you want,” I assured her. “Cross examine, be specific, grill them. If I’m blind to something, let me know.”
Before we could say anything else, the other four joined us. Tyche left the couch in favor of sitting with Antoine in the armchair, while Maverick took her seat next to me. Surprisingly, Conor let Zach sit on my other side, in favor of sitting on the floor and resting against mine and Maverick’s legs. It wasn’t unusual for him to do after losing his temper – I wasn’t even sure he realized that he acted like he had to earn back his spot on the sofa – but I hadn’t expected him to do it in front of other people.
My favorite source of never-ending surprise didn’t stop there. “Antoine,” he asked, clearing his throat. “Do you have anyone on staff who, uh, helps with… anger management?” He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment when Antoine’s eyebrows shot up. “I got… mad as hell today, and I was throwing things in front of Zach. And it’s not the first time I’ve tossed a room ‘cause I was pissed off.” Leaning forward, he shoved a hand through his hair and forced himself to keep talking. “I’ve never raised my voice or threw things at Sophie or Mav, and I try to make sure that no one is here when I do it. But today… Zach was here, and Sophie and Tyche got home and the door was open, and I could’ve… Even if it had been a accident, someone could’ve got hurt, and – “
“No one got hurt?” Antoine cut in, glancing around with concern. I could see his fingers digging into Tyche’s hip where his arms were around her, his professional façade cracking just a hair at the idea that she had been in potential danger. The three of us who had been there shook our heads, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am well aware that Tyche will likely be checking the recordings to ensure that you are save, Sophia and Maverick. I will be checking them with her, just to be sure. And yes, Conor, we do have some people on the Ark who are trained to handle anger management.” When Antoine removed his hand from his face, I caught him clenching it in a tight fist for a brief moment.
Apparently Conor wasn’t the only one with an unexpected temper. “Antoine,” I said softly. “I already told Tyche, go ahead and check the recordings. Grill Noah. Conor really has always made a point to make sure we weren’t here when he knew he was going to lose it, and he tried as hard as he could to make sure we didn’t realize how badly he was handling it. But I do think he could use some help learning a more… productive? Way to handle things.” I stroked Conor’s hair and smiled slightly when Maverick moved my hand so he could do it, instead. “I did suggest boxing,” I pointed out, glancing up.
“The last thing I want to do is graduate to hitting things,” Conor grumbled. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea at all.”
“Actually, boxing is an effective outlet for aggression,” Antoine argued. “It has proven to provide a safe outlet for violent urges, especially if it is not an activity you have ever taken up before. Over time, it reprograms the same physical impulse that causes you to throw things to instead channel that aggression toward hitting something that is designed to be hit, or toward a sparring partner who is consenting to engage and is physically protected.”
“There has to be something else. Something non-violent.”
“Any physical exercise can provide an outlet, but it may not be as satisfying,” our resident therapist relented. “Running, aerobics, or dance are found to be the most effective due to the high cardiovascular output they provide.”
Conor nodded, taking that into more serious consideration. “Running sounds better.”
“Awww, you don’t want to start taking dance classes?” Maverick teased, grunting when I elbowed him. “What? You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be a little funny.”
I glared at him as Tyche cleared her throat. “Um, Maverick? Sweetie? Sophia took dance lessons for years. Believe me, just the stretches will have you pouring sweat when you first start.”
“It takes about the same amount of discipline as martial arts,” I picked up from there. “Precision, and complete focus on what each part of your body is doing at any given time. Not to mention the amount of strength you have to build up, depending on what you’re doing – at one point I could squat close to three hundred pounds. Not for long,” I admitted. “But I could do it.”
“Maybe you should start dancing again,” my sister mused. “It was good for your anxiety.” I tilted my head, conceding her point, but didn’t say anything.
“I am tempted to make the entire ship start taking up more cardiovascular exercise,” Antoine sighed. “Since the most recent gravity adjustment, the reports of anxiety, paranoia, and insomnia have far exceeded what we anticipated. As Sophia suggested at dinner, it seems that very few on the Ark are unaffected.”
I snorted before descending through giggles and into outright hysteric laughter. I glanced up briefly to see everyone staring at me, waiting for me to explain the joke. I managed to pull myself together long enough to gasp, “Ten-thousand-person flash mob.”
One by one, the entire room descended into laughter, the seriousness that had settled upon us temporarily broken by the mental image of everyone on the Ark dancing their hearts out.
Okay, so I was so busy patting myself on the back for getting a chapter up that I totally missed that it was the wrong chapter. Insert me smacking myself in the face when @baelpenrose pointed out.
Thankfully everything still applies: a good mix of fluff and machinations, and very much more co-written than beta read. Whew!
When Rome's in ruins
We are the lions
Free of the coliseums
In poisoned places
We are anti-venom
We're the beginning of the end
Tonight
The foxes hunt the hounds
It's all over now
Before it has begun
And we've already won
Fall Out Boy, “Young Volcanoes
Lash
Nils eventually came out of the master suite, carrying a bottle and sniffing it suspiciously. “This isn’t mine.”
I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “White boy hair oil and brown girl hair don’t necessarily work well together. Thank you, I’ll stick it in my bag. Sorry.”
He snatched it back. “Nope. I like it, it’s staying here. In case you need another shower. Only practical. I’ll buy you another bottle on the way to take you home.”
I smothered a smile as he padded barefoot back to the bathroom, returning seconds later to take his position on the far end of the couch - at some point, we had established ‘our’ seats, although I couldn’t pinpoint when. But his was on the left, mine was on the right. Everywhere. I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Food is ordered - hope saag paneer and double extra garlic naan is okay. I still can’t stomach the idea of meat at the moment.”
“Sounds perfect.” He leaned back in the couch. “So, what was so nuts about my idea that it beats…whatever movie we were going to watch?”
“I didn’t say it was nuts, I said it was interesting,” I pointed out. “But to your point. Firstly, I am constantly caught off guard by how hopeful you can be for someone who is so pessimistic. I don’t mean that as an insult, by the way. But, secondly… I think it could work if - and only if - we think in the very long term. Not scales of weeks, months, or years, but we’re talking generations. Lifetimes.”
“A sunrise we’ll never see?” His tone was pensive. “Or in the sense that it will be an ongoing project whose endpoint will take several lifetimes beyond our own?”
“In the sense that it may not even be the best idea if we live to see the sun finish setting,” I responded as gently as possible. “Studies show that sustainable, lasting change - good or bad - is done over time to gain momentum.”
“Which has the singular downside that I don’t know that’s time we have.” Nils said, thinking. “Behold the climate. There are places we can challenge capitalist control, and places we can replace it, fairly rapidly. We didn’t do it with debts, no, but we proved it could be done, that the system was weaker than people thought, and we got away clean. A lot of why rapid change is impossible to sustain is that the system is too load bearing, so our first play has to be to prove that we can take those loads away - which has the advantage of making us look like winners and making the powers-that-be look like conquerable fools. How many revolutions fail before they start simply because people don’t try? Because they think the system is invincible?”
I reached out and squeezed his thumb affectionately. “Hey, I agree. Keep in mind, I’m not beating the ‘Go Vote’ drum as the be-all-end-all, here. We can definitely pull away those theoretically load bearing systems, one at a time, provided we are smart about what they are supposed to be propping up and how much we care if those loads crumble. Case in point, the debt heist we just did.”
The familiar, laughing-at-a-far-away-joke smile played about his lips as he looked at me, eyes focused entirely in the moment. “That’s why we’re partners. Never would have worked as well without you. I wouldn’t be trying this without you.” He reached out and gently squeezed my hand. “We can pick our targets carefully, but at some point we’re going to inspire copycats - and those people should have some means of finding us, so that we can guide them a bit, so they don’t fuck it up.”
I shook my hair out, thinking. Reaching back, I started twisting it, looking around and finding a pen to shove through it and keep it balanced. “We honestly aren’t all that sneaky, outside of the fact that we are very openly doing this under online personas that are very much hard to trace back to real people. But I agree, we need something like a council - proxy real people who copy cats can reach out to when we are asleep or busy. Like… Bishop, for sure. Weasel is out. Bryce may actually be a good option, though.”
Nils shook his head. “He wasn’t reliable to not steal from you and finish the job. He’ll roll over on us for any reward money in a heartbeat.”
I pointed at him and winked. “Exactly. Bryce is motivated by money, pure, plain, and simple. We know what to watch out for, and we know how to hack him. Weasel… we can’t pay him in enough of his preferred currency to keep him from turning in half a breath. But Bryce? Has a gambling addiction, a few hundred thousand in student loans, and parents who are always a hair away from cutting him off. If we can redirect some ill-gotten billionaire funds to keep him from getting killed by loan sharks, he’ll be loyal.”
“Point the first: We just torched a huge swathe of student debt, that was literally my original goal. Gambling addiction though, that’s interesting.” I thought about it. “My issue is that if the FBI offers enough he may take a bigger payday from them. Consider it for now, not a hard no. I like Bishop though. And we’re going to want someone to manage the psychopaths a little more directly, ideally someone who understands…frankly, weapons, tactics, and ideally isn’t a racist psychopath I have to string along with mind games.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I suggested, just as the food arrived. “Am I safe to grab that, or should you?”
“I’ll get it.” He got up and headed down to go grab the food at the door. When he got back, he set the food down on the table and set out a plate in front of each of us. “Good call, this stuff smells amazing.”
I smiled. “Thank yew, thank yew. I could eat this every day, mass murder notwithstanding.” I started scooping rice and curry onto my plate before continuing. “So. Yes, we need a council, persons beyond Bishop to be determined. But we also need a figurehead.” With my fork, I pointed at my face vaguely. “Clearly not the person to visibly converse with racists, which are our primary market currently.” I started swirling the tines in his general direction. “However, you? Mr. Rich Boy Who Hates the Rich? Perfect.”
“We have to network with people who will look at my…everything…and know we’re bullshit, though. Ideally, we may want to have two different figureheads, for interacting with different crowds. You for our actual side of things, me for the rowdy and violent crowd? Bear in mind, we’re gonna need actual activists to set up the community shit to take advantage of whatever we do with our pawns.”
“Activists don’t care what you look like,” I agreed before shoving a chunk of spinach covered cheese in my face and chewing thoughtfully. “But yeah, I can organize the actuals on the back end while you rally the minions in the front. Right now, front work is going to be our focus. Did the dead guys have life insurance? Families?”
“Based on chatter? One did. It came up alot.” His tone was unconcerned as he heaped his plate. “Are we thinking hitting life insurance next? For that matter, are we reaching out for a mutual edge? Get payouts for the victims of the fire and the widows and orphans of our retribution? An easy way to reunite “our” forces and get them refocused on the real enemy.”
I waffled my hand while I chewed on naan. Swallowing I managed to get out, “Kind of both? Don’t get me wrong, if we just wiped out their mortgage and they still bombed the cafe? We can pro-rate that insurance, I know the math. But also.” I started gesturing with my fork again. “Did you know that, in the absence of a clear beneficiary, most life insurance defaults to the state after three to ten years? Waste of funds, plus the interest goes to the state, regardless. It’s gross.”
“That is uniquely disgusting,” he said, before shoving a large hunk of naam into his mouth. “Or, I’d say so if I hadn’t heard about. Other theft the state likes doing. But that’s directly addressable, right now.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “So, you’re picking up what I’m putting down: unclaimed and excessive life insurance. Reroute that shit.”
“Sounds perfectly agreeable to me. To the poor, or to the recently widowed and orphaned of the country? I think both would be…pretty funny.”
“Tired, poor, and huddled masses,” I toasted with a chunk of naan, rice, and curry. “Fuck the yearning, let’s make them free. Food banks, medical debts - until we can wipe those out - Hey.” I set my food down for a second. “Funnel the funds into a medical debt jubilee? Would that work better, or would another hack work better? We need an accountant or insurance adjuster on staff, I think.” At this point, I was rambling, but in the groove and happy for once in the last several years.
“Second hack. We drop that kind of cash into the people who are real experts in making it matter the most, they’re legally required to find out who it comes from and how. We’re better off intercepting the shit they can’t buy yet.” Nils was grinning. “We can find an accountant though. Gotta be a way to start dumping money into this machine.” He blushed a bit. “I love seeing you smile again, Lash. For real, not just for cover.”
I complied with a genuinely enthusiastic, sunny grin, spinach in teeth be damned. “I still think we need a risk-reward specialist on board,” I pointed out. “Keep in mind, we don’t need a licensed adjuster, just a trained one. Think of all the people who get educated in prison and can’t get employed. We can cultivate one, cherry pick.” At this point I was screaming high on endorphins and realized I sounded silly. “Or just… I dunno. Pay one who is willing to take the pay over the ethics. You might be right.”
“You didn’t even wait to hear my objections. I was going to say there’s no one trained for this, because we break that scale at both ends.” He was laughing too. “Then again as we get this council together, we’re probably going to run into that problem a lot if we go as far as we could.”
I glanced around while I thought, and spotted a surprisingly dusty chess set. Carefully, I brought it over to the table, set it down, scooted our food over, and sat on the floor. “So here,” I I picked up a king out of the box - it happened to be a white piece, but whatever, it was the first one I saw - “This is basically you.” I set it in place. “You think incredibly well in short term but you put your neck out without caring about the consequences, yes?”
He picked up the black king. “I don’t hate your analysis. But this is the side we’re playing. The system’s had at least one move on us a long time. We’re just moving back to react to the world we’re living in and trying to win anyway. Also, you know you’re setting me up as the piece we can’t win without - that the game ends if they manage to kill me.” He sounded oddly anxious about that concept.
I nodded and fished out the corresponding queen. “In theory, this is me - long term thinking, flexible, but not the figurehead. The movement doesn’t die with me.” Without waiting, I grabbed a bishop. “Obvious. But we need another, so I’m only putting one on the board right now.” Fully committing to the metaphor, I fished all the pawns out of the box and placed them on the Black side. “These are your pawns. Appropriately, both useful, powerful, and sacrificial.” To the side, I started setting the rest of the Black pieces. “Here’s what we don’t have.”
“An advisor, two specialists for atypical offense, and two builders to make whatever we want last. Okay.” He took a look. “Not king and queen of much of a court.” He glanced at me. “You were born to be a queen though, even if when we’re done there’s not going to be much in the way of monarchies.”
I felt my face flush, and turned away so he wouldn’t see it. Given how many times I had been subjected to similar pickup lines, I mentally scolded myself while I calmed down. Remember all the stupid lines about Nubian queens when you aren’t even from Africa, I asserted. And how many references to Cleopatra left you with a soggy date and an empty cup. “Capitalism, monarchies, whatever,” I managed to get out, “leaders need a council. I assume you would object if I placed myself as King’s Rook - the one piece that can swap for the King in an assassination attempt in chess - so I accept being Queen. Fair?”
“We didn’t establish that I really bought the model that you’re more expendable than I am to the movement long-term.” He said, obviously thinking about something. “But if I can’t convince you of that, yes, you’re the queen.”
I grabbed a bite of my now-cold paneer and nodded as I swallowed. “If it helps your conscience at all, these games rarely get far past the Queen being taken, unless you are playing against an absolute master or a total newb.”
He nodded. “Point.” He then proceeded, speaking in a voice somewhere between supervillain and flirting-teasing, with a grin that indicated he had an entirely new thing to tease me with, “So, ‘my queen,’ do you have a particular preference for the rest of our council that we should contact or discuss this evening?”
My face burning, I managed to keep facing him and steadily respond. “Bishop, first. Ask him for suggestions… Beyond him and Weasel, I don’t think we know a lot of the same folks.” Surrendering, I dropped my forehead into my palm. “And please, for the love of everything, let me sleep on this big, fluffy, gorgeous couch tonight? I don’t want to even think of blaming anything that happens between us, non-professionally, as being due to trauma.”
He snorted. “I was going to be a gentleman and take the couch, let you have the bed, but if you insist on the couch, I’m not going to force you.”
I started giggling, possibly out of tired delirium. “I flopped on the bed earlier,” I confessed. “It’s hard as a rock, so I will take the couch and suggest you get a softer bed.”
He shrugged, and boxed up what was left of the food. “Ah. Yeah. We can talk about that, if you were coming over here more often. But for tonight, yeah, take the couch. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.”
Lash is trying to moderate her reaction to her parents being injured.
This is a woman who is deeply attached to her parents.... so yeah, @baelpenrose did have to rein me in a bit.
Life ain't always beautiful
You think you're on your way
And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day
But the struggles makes you stronger
And the changes make you wise
And happiness has its own way of takin' its sweet time
Gary Allan, “Life Ain’t Always Beautiful”
Lash
Mama was rasping, and the doctors weren’t happy about her oxygen levels, but they took her off the ventilator and gave her a mask instead. Baby steps that may as well have been tremendous milestones when my only hope was that she survived this. I squeezed her right hand - when had it become so fragile? - while Mori rubbed the left. Weaponized love to keep her from taking the hateful mask off.
“Baba,” she managed to get out, just loud enough for us to understand.
“They are doing circulation tests on this leg,” Mori explained, avoiding the reason behind the tests in an attempt to save Mama from worrying.
Regardless, Mama’s eyes went wide, wild. Her head thrashed side to side between us. “The boy.”
Mori’s eyes flicked to me, and I nodded firmly. “Nils is fine, Mama. He was wearing protection for his motorbike. Scrapes and a couple burns at worst.” I looked back to Mori and explained, “Nils. You met him earlier. He was caught in the same blast as Baba. But his clothing protected him.”
My sister nodded vigorously in understanding. “Yes. He is fine, Mama. Walking, talking. He made sure that everyone’s medical costs are covered.”
I could see Mama trying to force out more words, and just bit the proverbial bullet. “The baby is fine, as is his mother. Only three people didn’t make it, and we have already spoken to Auntie Yildiz… Uncle Ahmet did not make it.” I refused to tell her about Imran. I still could not believe he was gone, even with his wife Fatima haunting the hospital with the face of someone who was holding themself together by sheer force of will. But Ahmet’s widow would be by soon to see Mama, and I didn’t want her to be shocked.
My phone abruptly buzzed and I glanced at it. Nils was texting. “They have news about your dad’s leg.”
“Mama, Mori, I need to step out. I’ll be right back.” I kissed the hand I was holding and nodded at my sister before slipping out of the room. I almost ran smack into my shadow, who was clearly waiting for me to step out.
Never a good sign.
“They wouldn’t tell me what it was, because I’m not ‘next of kin’ and they’re gonna be sticklers about policy, especially since they can’t be happy with us. I can take you to the people who can tell you, but…Lash, I’d…prepare for some bad news, about whether he keeps it. I know the doc working on him and he looked pretty grim.” Nils’ voice was tense. “I’m sorry, Lash.”
I waved him away absently. “Doctors don’t want to share scary or bad news. They will violate HIPPA for good news. As soon as you said they wouldn’t tell you, I knew the leg was toast. Let’s go find out how far up.” I marched with purpose towards Baba’s room, uncaring of how angry I looked.
Nils trailed behind me, looking apprehensive. A doctor and a nurse were talking to Baba, who seemed to be somewhat more lucid. Nils winced when he heard the conversation. “They’re going over informed consent for the amputation, now that saving the leg failed.”
I gathered myself and spoke as clearly and loudly as I dared. “I am Elashki Botelho, his youngest daughter. I know you do not need my permission for this surgery, but his wife and my mother is down the hall and I need to be prepared to tell her what is going on. Please tell me.”
The doctors glanced at Baba and, once he nodded, they explained. His leg needed to be amputated right above the knee, minimum, due to prolonged lack of oxygen. All the tissue in his calf and foot were either dead or dying. I blinked back tears, despite the feeling that I was trying to force whole bees into my eyes. “Thank you.” I turned to Baba. “This will save your life. We want you more than we want any money or pride. Please consent.” With that, I spun on my heel and left the room as fast I could while retaining any shred of dignity.
I whipped out my phone and started stabbing at it frantically. Nils made a gesture to take it from me, and I growled with a feral tone I hadn’t realized I possessed. “I am telling Mori that she needs to pee and to meet me here. Giving my mother a panic attack while she is barely off a ventilator is idiotic. No woman ever questions the need to urinate. Reach for my phone again, and I will bite you.”
Nils blinked. “Ah.” He stood silently for a moment. “I’ll wait here, and…Yeah. Go talk to your sister.”
Mori arrived a few minutes later, and I explained that Baba would need his leg amputated. As I expected, she immediately sat in a nearby chair and started crying. Once she caught her breath, I gripped her shoulder hard enough to grab her attention. “Mori. If they don’t do this, he’ll die. And we both know Mama may not survive that.”
Immediately, she sat bolt upright and shook her head. “Oh, hell no. Take it at the hip, I don’t care so long as that means he makes it.”
If nothing else, my family was practical. “They are going for above the knee with a prosthetic. We’ll see after that.”
“But does his insurance cover - “
I almost started to tell her that his insurance covered whatever the fuck I said it covered, but Nils beat me to it.
“Watch evening news reruns. We got hospital admins to agree that every victim of this horrible tragedy will ‘of course’ be helped free of charge.” His voice took on a cold note. “By telling the news that’s what was happening and daring the hospital to disagree with the free PR. He’s covered.”
I rushed to clarify. “That doesn’t mean he is completely secure. But, he is their best radiology tech, the only one who can keep peds patients from squirming. That has to hold some value. We just have to support him adapting to any prosthetics.”
Mori groaned, loudly. “Baba hates assistance. He’s doomed.”
I chutted at her and corrected. “Baba hates not being independent. We have to maintain that prosthetics are independence, not help. I need you on my side on this, more than anything.”
Nils made a point that was simultaneously deeply morbid and exactly what I needed to get my sister’s help. “Lack of independence - or more accurately, men being stubborn about it and just giving up on surviving if it requires accepting help - kills more men recovering from wounds than basically anything else. There’s a reason so many older men buy it within a month or two of going incontinent. Women tend to be a lot less teeth-shatteringly obnoxious about the whole thing, and tend to outlive their husbands by a large margin. Helping him maintain independence matters.”
I hugged Mori and stood. “I am going in there and asking him if he wants osteointegration or sockets. No option for not amputating. If he argues, I will scream this hospital down until they let Mama scream at him directly. She’s dedicated over thirty years of her life to keeping Baba alive, she has earned the privilege.”
Nils broke in with a bit of characteristic irritation. “We are absolutely not getting your mother involved, right to or no. Woman just got off a ventilator and they JUST got her lungs and airways working properly again. She’s not doing any screaming for a while.”
I whipped around and stared him dead in his soul - or what substituted for one. “You are more than welcome to try to stop her. We will stand back and laugh as you fail.”
Mori nodded and blessed his attempt at stopping her. “Mama does what she knows is the will of her god. If she dies scolding Baba, he will never live down the shame.”
Nils gave me a long, slow look. “I can help with this. I grew up catholic, I know everything about guilt trips. Let’s go see if we can’t convince him to NOT waste all the effort we already put into saving him and his wife. Let’s start with that BEFORE we bring in the big guns of your mom coming in to literally scream herself to death.”
I glanced at Mori and swatted my hand in an ‘I’ll explain later’ sort of way. Then we went into the room.
“Baba. Are you going to have the sockets or the osteointegration for the prosthetic?” I asked matter-of-factly.
“They cannot take my leg,” he grumbled. “They will save it.”
I grabbed the leg in question as tightly as I could, devastated when he didn’t even flinch. “Baba. They cannot save it. You should hurt, but you don’t even notice. Let them take the leg, and discuss the best prosthetic for you.”
Baba threw the closest thing to him - an empty cup- as hard as he could across the room, only to yield a dull thud and some clattering.
“Children throw things,” Mori chided. “You are grown and a man. You are better than this.”
“Grown men have two legs!” he shouted, waving to dismiss us.
I move my grip up to pinch his hip painfully. “Grown men do not need help, yes. But if you do not agree to this, you are choosing to leave Mama - “
“I WOULD NEVER LEAVE HER!” he roared.
I nodded. “Then you will have this surgery. So you do not leave Mama. I am glad we agree.” He went to open his mouth again, so I started speaking. “I have looked in many support groups, and they agree that a socket is the best way to start. Can you imagine? Talking to children in short legs, looking at them eye to eye? They will be thrilled.”
“I am only losing one leg,” he argued.
“And some of them are losing one, maybe two,” Mori added. “Won’t they feel better to see you with only one foot?”
I watched his heart break - for my mother, for his patients. This man, not just my father, but the reassurance of so many children in the last twenty years. “I cannot leave your mother to fight alone, and I cannot leave these children thinking this is the end of the world. Cara - she has leukemia. If I cannot survive losing a leg, how do I expect her to?”
As I sat back, I let a huge breath leave my body. “Thank fuck - sorry - but my next option was bringing in Mama.”
He sat bolt upright. “Your mother is in a respirator, don’t you DARE risk her life to yell at me!”
Nils waved a hand. “That’s what I said. They told me that I couldn’t stop her, so I could be an intermediate step. With all the knowledge of guilt that a catholic upbringing provides.”
“Mama is willing to die to yell at you if it’s the last thing you’ll ever hear,” Mori stated flatly. “Both or neither, you don’t get the luxury of an afterlife without her.”
We all started cackling as Baba dove for the call button. “SOCKETS!” he screamed. “SOCKETS OR MY WIFE WILL KILL US BOTH!”
Yep. You read that right - this is it. At least for now.... I made the decision to end the journey when the journey actually stopped. Including the fact that it stopped very abruptly.
Do not skip: Content/Trigger Warning for gore, blood, and injuries at the beginning of this chapter. There is a line of three asterisks (***) to denote where that ends. I am not kidding, I had to revoke a beta-reader’s access to the master doc until I wrote the rest, out of concern.
I cannot thank everyone enough for this wild, wild ride: @baelpenrose for all your moral and written support (and for the part of this chapter I just had to warn about!), @charlylimph-blog for being my third sister essentially, @drbibliophile, @quantumized-insanity, @werewolf2578, @lavcircuts, @janeshadow, @generalperfectionbread, @mustachebatschaos, @dierotenixe, @1978sah, and anyone else I may have missed. Thank you!
I came to, gasping. Smoke filled my nostrils, and my eyes refused to see. Panic filled me and I reached for my face even as I shouted hoarsely for my family. Only one hand would obey me, but it was enough to feel the sticky texture of blood glueing my eyes shut.
I worked to open my eyes, still shouting and straining my ears for anything. Finally, I could open my eyes and sweep the ruins of the bridge.
Maverick’s face lay in ruins, blood dripping down both sides, his chest caved in by the impact as he slumped over the controls that had smashed in his ribs. Beside him, my sister, teeth clenched in defiance, horrifyingly small in the death that had actually claimed her. I looked around, my muscles screaming as I clawed, frantically, at my restraints.
Scrambling out from under the table did not reveal anything better. Arthur had apparently managed to free himself shortly before I’d woken, but he had succumbed to his wounds trying to get to our pilots, and I could see the blood around his mouth, the way the impact had destroyed…
Charly…oh gods, Charly was. Charly’s face. Her spine was…it was wracked, twistingly broken, and she’d obviously died before waking. I tried to crawl towards where Grey had been strapped in, or Hunyh, but…my legs weren’t…
I screamed, coughing up more blood, trying to…
Some of the ship’s damaged hull screamed for me. Some of it crumbled, and I saw two more of my colleague’s mangled bodies come into view as their seats twisted around beneath the already ruined deck. That was Eino…I couldn’t even recognize the other’s face beneath the mask of blood, but based on the build, maybe, maybe Hunyh?
Parvati…
Xiomara had died next to Parvati, and seeing the way Parvati had gone was probably the bitterest. Her last act had been to scrawl on the walls something, some little symbol I wished I could recognize, above where she and Xiomara lay.
I couldn’t see Pranav and Alice, but there was…it was quiet, and my vision was starting to tunnel. I tried screaming one more time, found myself coughing, choking on the blood from where my throat had torn. Convulsions wracked my body, pain surging from limbs that were broken -
***
“Sophia!” a voice shouted. “Sophia!”
I woke, gasping for air like I had been drowning. The pain was a phantom sensation, and I started sobbing when I saw the person shaking me.
Maverick, eyes wide, hands firm but gentle on my shoulders, slumped in relief. “It was a nightmare, love. You were screaming.”
The tension left my body and I rested my forehead on his perfectly intact chest, feeling his hear beating strongly against my cheek. “I thought they had gone,” I admitted. “I haven’t had one in years.”
“It’s okay,” he assured me, pulling me onto his lap. “We’re okay. We’re here, we made it.”
“Conor isn’t here.” Damn the tears and the sniff that betrayed me.
Mav squeezed me tighter. “Love, he’s staying with the children, you know that. It’s just for a month, then he’ll be back. They turn five soon - “
“I know,” I sulked. “Then they can come stay with us when it’s his time to keep them.”
“And he can stay here,” Maverick finished. “You fully supported the proposal when Hannah and Antoine came to you about it.”
I rubbed my forehead and mentally cursed myself. “How was I supposed to know that Conor would be one of the first fathers?”
“Two more weeks, then he’s back for a month,” Maverick repeated. “And it’s not like we never see him around or have meals with him.”
Didn’t make me any happier about the situation, but he was right. Despite what could charitably be called a rough start, the colony had been very stable after the first five years. The Council - at the time in a state of peaceful transition while roles were voted on and handed off - had agreed to slowly start allowing children, but with one caveat. Due to the need for genetic diversity, and to provide stability, they would live in their own quarters, later to be shared with their siblings, and their parents would come to them until they started school. Once school started, all parents were required to live as close as possible to where education would take place, and the children essentially lived with both families as they saw fit.
In theory. Conor’s twin girls were some of the colony’s eldest children, and fortunately we got along very well with their mother and her wife, who lived nearby anyway. Even officially retired, a part of me was holding my breath to see how the parents who had to relocate handled things.
“Those girls had better be glad they’re cute,” I grumbled, snuggling in to try to get some more sleep before my shift started.
Several restless hours of dozing later, I felt my jaw pop as I yawned my way into the still-rebuilding Archives. A precious cup of high octane tea in one hand, a bundle of thick paper in the other, I found my alcove and moved the light closer. Great, more medical papers, I sighed to myself. Having good penmanship had its ups and downs, the current ‘down’ being that I mostly got stuck transcribing essential documents that were less interesting than watching moss grow.
There hadn’t been time to commit all of the Archives to crystal, and on a planet with humidity both above and below ground, there were entirely too many documents that would be lost to the environment without transcription. The paper we were using was made from the fibers of the stonevine - the vine Teeth had brought to our attention for how hard its sap cured once boiled. It had taken several attempts, but the resulting paper was incredibly waterproof and actually required the letters to be etched into it to take any sort of pigment. However, once anything was written on it, there was no way to destroy the document short of grinding it into a new pulp.
Unfortunately, that meant anyone copying the documents needed a very steady hand and impeccably legible handwriting, because you only got one shot at it. Everything was in the database, but those last several months of Eko-mari interference had reinforced the need for hard copies of everything. And so, my retirement from the Council had led to six shifts per week transcribing very important and very boring documents.
A harsh swear hissed in my direction, snapping my head up in confusion. I barely had time to make out a head of wild brown hair attached to a young adult with an odd gait, practically dragging a toddler behind her. “Teeth…” I ventured hesitantly.
They froze in their tracks, and the little boy squealed before running over to me on stubby legs. Slowly, Teeth turned to face me, nose wrinkled in embarrassment. “Hi, Aunt Sophia.”
“PHEE!” the little boy screeched, climbing into my lap while I deftly moved the etching pen out of his sticky reach. “Sibby was noddy,” he assured me in the special loud whisper only managed by small children and drunks.
“I figured bud,” I muttered before turning my attention back. “I can’t imagine that the child of two queens is here on community service, not to mention that Siu writes better than you do.” I nodded to the boy who I was trying to keep the old papers away from. “What’s up?”
Surrendering, they came to sit across from me, gently taking the papers from my hand before their little brother could. “I was scaling the Vault - “
“Which you know you aren’t supposed to do,” I added.
“Which I have been told is dangerous,” they corrected. “And Siu saw me.”
I bit my tongue but scanned him for injuries. Scraped knees, but that was about as normal to him as breathing. Kid was a klutz, bless him.
When I nodded, Teeth kept going. “I thought he was with Queen Mum, but he was with his daycare class, on a field trip, and… The kids tried to imitate me.”
“Since you aren’t, you know, dead, I’m assuming the adults stopped anything tragic.”
“Miss Mona said we couldn’t climb,” Siu pouted at me.
“And they all started crying,” Teeth finished in a huff. “Busted by thirty six kids and four adults. All of my parents knew within an hour.”
I whirled a finger around to indicate the Archives, before swooping it in to boop my nephew’s cheek. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“Penmanship practice,” they groaned, dropping their head on their organic arm in a huff. “With an etching pen and everything.”
I thought about it for a second. “Simon’s idea?”
“Who else?” they despaired. Being twenty five may have given Teeth more experience, but it had also solidified them into a very expressive person that borderlined on teenage dramatics when it mattered the least.
I sighed. “Okay. You can practice here, but go get a glass slate and some markers for Siu. Otherwise he’ll get bored.”
“It’s only for a couple hours,” they swore, attitude suddenly changing. “Mom will be here on her lunch to come get him.” Springing to their feet, they took off to request one of the panes we used to conserve paper when people were first learning new alphabets.
“Swindled,” I told Siu very seriously. “Your sibling has swindled me again.”
“Fucking duh,” he giggled cheerfully.
Gaping for a second, I ground my teeth before shouting. “TEETH!”
Three hours and some exasperated promises from Charly - who was admirably keeping her laughter at bay - Siu was shrieking with laughter at the promise of swimming lessons with Mummy, and Teeth was working on a glass slate to replicate my cursive writing.
“This is so small,” they complained. “How do you do this?”
“Same way you are,” I answered without looking up. Hematology extracts for the win - I could barely spell half of these words. “Practice.”
“You could have written it bigger.”
“I did.” Demonstrating, I took a scrap of stonevine paper, etched a few words in it, washed in the ink, then turned it towards them. “See?” The only person I knew who naturally wrote smaller than me was Tyche - the largest letter on my paper was a quarter of an inch. Most were right at an eighth.
“Bitching has been retracted.”
“Besides, cheer up,” I continued. “I just heard today that Xale and Brol are coming to visit soon. Siu’s never met Xale, has he?”
The felt pen squeaked loudly as Teeth’s arm jerked. “How did you hear this before me?” they demanded.
“Xale wanted it to be a surprise,” I assured. “But you seem like you could use the good news. They should be here in time for his birthday.”
They paused mid-wipe as they erased the streak. “Do you think his genetic parents will show up?” they asked quietly.
I shrugged, trying to look lighter than I felt. “They relinquished any custody of their material, neither felt confident that they could raise a child. As far as who Siu’s parents are, he’s your human brother, being co-raised by Charly and Nixe, just like you.”
They relaxed a fraction. “Then he should love his big sister as much as I do. Will Kelly and Mati be there?” Teeth loved their little brother, but loved their ‘cousins’ almost as much, and made a point to play with them, even when Conor wasn’t the custodial parent.
“Their moms are all for it,” I assured. “The girls are the only kids on their side right now, and no one wants them to feel left out.”
“Good,” they nodded firmly. “Family is important.”
“Preaching to the choir,” I pointed at myself. “You may be the only person I know who has a bigger family than I do.”
“The outer caverns are almost complete,” they threw out, changing topic. “Mom is excited, because one of the caverns is going to be a new park.”
“Botanical lab,” I corrected. “Technically.”
“Interactive lab, which is the same thing as a park,” Teeth rebutted. “And you promised.”
“I don’t have any say, I told you that.”
“But you promised me you would at least talk to them…”
“I know, but are you sure? Siu’s already - “
“Aunt Sophia, you promised,” they pressed. “Mom and Mum will listen to you, especially when Simon already agrees with us…”
“Have you even one hundred percent decided - “
“Poodle collie mix,” they bounced triumphantly, knowing they’d won. “They shed less, they are incredibly smart, and they are gentle, so Siu and his kitten will be fine.”
I rubbed my forehead in mock frustration, secretly very proud of how far they had thought this through. “I can’t even argue about responsibility. I’ve seen you with the kids, recent blunder included.”
“Look, I - wait, what?”
I set my etching pen down and started counting off on my fingers, getting a small laugh out of them. “You made a point to do it when you thought you wouldn’t be seen, but especially when you thought Siu wouldn’t see you. No one got hurt, so you clearly came right down before any of the kids could actually try. And you brought Siu with you today, to make sure you knew where he was and that he wasn’t trying to climb a rock wall.” I turned my glance to them. “Plus, you were very adamant that when Xale gets their kitten, Siu gets one, too, because he misses Mac.” Poor guy had barely survived the crash - excuse me, ‘high velocity landing’ - but even then, old age caught up a couple years later.
“You know, you could still get a kitten, too,” Teeth pointed out gently.
I scoffed, this time actually indignant. “I am a firm believer in the Kitten Distribution System, I will have you know. When I am meant to have a cat, one will manifest.”
“You do know that animal breeding is strictly controlled?”
“Cared exactly zero cats, ever. You’ll see.”
For the next several hours, we made at least an effort to focus on Teeth’s penmanship and my transcription. I managed to copy several pages, but despaired that Teeth was a lost cause as far as cursive went. Which, fair - as long as they could print legibly, I could honestly have cared less.
When my shift was over, I let Teeth know that they were freed to their own recognizance and let my mind wander as I navigated the cavern system. Several times, I had to dodge fuzzy yellow balls darting past - Else still largely navigated by bumping off of things, despite being large enough to leave a pretty sizable bruise - only to later stand aside so that Noah’s much smaller avatars could trundle after them. I was still adapting to the hive-minded mushrooms being four feet tall instead of twelve, and always chuckled when I saw one chasing behind Else.
Eventually, children would be running through the caves in the same way. Every day, more and more of Charly’s bio-lights were mounted rather than hurriedly attached - constant signs of expansion as we recovered and spread out. Gardens were tucked in every possible nook and cranny, especially those with small thermal pools. More than a few had been built out with seating that used stone from smoothed out or expanded areas, repurposed.
It took all of my restraint to keep from turning into a communal food nook, the smell of chilies practically dragging me in. The heavily vegetarian group of cooks had quickly found and claimed the space, which was too warm for habitation due to the springs that ran behind the walls - making it perfect for cooking.
Dinner with Maverick and Evan, I reminded myself. The newly installed Councillor for Health and Safety had been very attached to Mav since the final hours of our journey. For a time, Conor and I had been slightly concerned and very much amused, but Evan had made it abundantly clear that she preferred zero romantic or physical attachments - she basically considered Maverick a very intelligent pet, and he thought that was hilarious.
I reached my favorite point of my walk and paused to enjoy it: one of the narrow passages had collapsed slightly on one side, leaving an overlook to our main hub. The Vault, we called it. There was no part of the day when people weren’t crossing through it, often stopping to speak to each other. Streams of both hot and cold water flowed in channels across the floor, small decorative bridges arching over them at the wider points for safety. Horticulturists hovered between the relatively new plant installations, which had already made the air sweet in their scant three years of growth.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the steam, feeling my heart slow and calm as it always did. Terrible events had brought us here, refugees from our birth planet. But we had survived the trip, across a distance we had never thought possible, and were carving out a home as carefully as possible. And one day, if we ever saw the journey home, nothing would remain behind us except the stone works - the plants needed constant maintenance, a decision we had made to avoid introducing invasive species.
We had a second chance, and we promised we would do right by it. As I did daily, I quietly said a prayer to myself that those who had survived on Earth - something Teeth was evident of - would make the same decision. Done, I smiled gently and headed home.
Scheduling this ahead of time since I've had time issues with getting posts up on Fridays....
This chapter is definitely one of my favorite examples of what happens when @baelpenrose and I are really working in a cohesive way. Tech stuff happens, plot moves forward, but people stuff happens as well.
Interested to see who can spot the most easter eggs in the online handles...
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I stifled a groan at the stiffness in my shoulder as I scooted to the edge of Nils’ bed. Fingers clumsily fumbled down my back, forcing me to stand up before he tried to yank me back down in his sleep. I grabbed the first shirt that I found on the floor and padded out into the living room, opening my laptop to scratch the itch in my brain that was keeping me awake - we knew one person who was looking for us, time to find the other.
Ever since the interview with Agent Watson - and ever since I had royally screwed up - I had been trying to track down the person who was working to seduce Nils’ minions away for their own nefarious purposes. For the past four days, I had been practically living off antacids to keep from vomiting at the amount of absolute trash that filled the message boards these people frequented, but something told me I was getting close. I just didn’t know what.
There was no telling how much time had passed when I felt a chunk of my hair being lifted and played with - at some point it had started raining again, so for all I knew the sun had been up for hours. “How are you not cold?” Nils yawned while twisting the lock between his fingers.
“Fat deposits,” I muttered. “Besides, your bed is rock hard, so cold and soft wins.” Drumming my nails on the screen, I finally turned toward him only to be momentarily distracted by his bare chest. I blinked rapidly to get my brain back on track. “They’re here. I know it. I found them in two other boards, under different names, but I know it has to be them.”
Nils continued playing with my hair, slowly braiding it. “How do you know it’s them, Elakshi?” His voice was probing, but there was an odd cheer to it. “You’ve made progress?”
I nodded, changing tabs. “Right now, this one in particular.” Highlighting one user, than another, I pointed to the names. “VassilisaAura and CasparsNERVE. They’re arguing, but look at the way they talk… They’re either very good friends in real life, or the same person.”
He gave an interested grunt.. “Same style of pseudonym…that’s interesting. Certainly I’ve run that trick when I want to get people talking about the same thing, regardless of where they go with it, so I can steer them with account number 3. So…we seeing anyone else who is steering them? Ideally with the same name?”
“Even better,” I confirmed, switching tabs again. “EcoDekorashion. There’s some sub-tagging, but it’s like whoever this is decided to pick AI names from whatever anime they had on the shelf. I’m not even going to start on their taste, honestly.” I tapped my chin before digging his hand out of my hair so I wouldn’t be distracted. “Then again, these are so obscure that they honestly don’t clock unless you know what you’re looking at.”
“Which we do, because we’re nerds. So, next step. How do we know this is our guy?”
“We’ll have to trace the accounts, which is going to be a righteous pain in the ass,” I yawned. “But I know it has to be the right person… All three accounts I’ve found aren’t arguing if we are right or wrong, they’re arguing over why it could have been done better.” Tipping my head over, I dropped it onto his shoulder before looking up at him. “And, just so you’re aware, there is a not-insignificant amount of mockery over the names of your factions, mister clever.”
Nils gave a light smirk. “I’d love to say I gave a shit, but it was clearly clever enough. I don’t have to be a genius, just smarter than the mark. And as long as he’s not fucking that up, rather than…”
He looked at it, where it was obvious that the three accounts were pushing the idea that whoever was doing it was making up names for real stuff because he thought people were too stupid to understand codenames. One of them was arguing that Nothing had made the whole thing up, and getting shouted down by idiots - Nils pointed out that one was also arguing that Q was bullshit to begin with and that the new guy was clearly just digging deeper - and the third one was simply mocking the names of these “pretentious assholes” who thought the world was their playground.
All in all, I had to admit it was pretty clever, given the crowd we were playing. Mock while drawing attention to power that these idiots claimed. Make denial unpopular. Make it okay to believe in it while mocking it because everyone on these boards was irony-poisoned half to death. That was perfect - almost exactly what we needed. “This person doesn’t want to deescalate. They either want to usurp us…or want in.” I gave Nils a sleepy grin. “So, let’s bring them in.” He looked like he was going to argue, so I sat up and clicked over to one of the dozen or so tabs I had going. “Here. VassilisaAura again, basically calling out whoever hit the banks and called for the people behind the fire to be taken care of. Claiming that, if we meant it, we would be recruiting, not dividing. And, right on schedule, EcoDekorashion pointing out that, as pretentious as we sound, more people benefitted from our ‘sloppy’ work than from just sitting around and bitching.”
Nils rubbed my shoulders. “Alright. You were right, babe. This is a good idea. We’ll get him on our side.” He took a step. “So, do we want to trace him and get a meeting?”
“Hmmm.” I considered it. “This is more your court than mine. Would it be better to track them down and set up something, or to give them a challenge to find us?”
His eyebrows raised. “Depends on how serious he is. My issue is that if we dangle ‘find me’ in front of them and piss them off, we’re looking at a person fluent on a board famous for hosting dox who will have found out where we are. If they can meet the challenge. Plus, seeking them out for a meeting indicates we know what’s happening and we’re able to probe - but he’s strong enough to attract our attention. Issuing a challenge means we aren’t worried - but also puts power in his hands if he can meet it, and that he doesn’t get that power if we ping him through enough proxies. And that’s assuming he can find us, because if he can’t he may just fuck off and then we lose the option. Which matters more here, real power or perceived power?” He clearly had an opinion on it. “I’d edge towards perceived power since we’re trying to prove that the government isn’t as strong as they say, and we need to let them think we’re stronger than we actually are to do that. But we are at risk if someone pushes and we actually can’t shove them back.”
I was hesitant, but made the decision to trust his judgment. “Like I said, your court, so it’s your call. Do we want to set up contingencies if this person is halfway across the country? Like, a neutral ground situation? Because I know, I know you aren’t about to ask me to fly out to some other state to meet someone face to face while we’re under FBI scrutiny.”
“No, I was talking about an end-to-end encrypted Usenet Chatroom that we scrub the minute we’re done with it, actually. Horrible system, lots of absolutely awful shit gets moved across the bones of the original internet. But it is amazing for privacy.” He sounded distracted. “No, I think perceived power is better, but there’s practical reasons as well. If we reach out to him as a response to what he’s already said, and he’s a mole, we’re fucked. If we say ‘come find us’ then that’s much easier to fake like he made a mistake, or claim we were trolling online if caught. Challenge is better. So…let’s give him a challenge.”
At this point my brain was spinning trying to trace what had just spewed forth from Nils’ mouth. Challenge was dangerous, but perceived power was advantageous, no challenge, yes challenge… “So, yes challenge,” I finally worked out, feeling on more firm ground. “How does ‘could be mistaken for viral marketing in the wrong hands’ sound? I can definitely whip up some images with links and shit contrasted into them, some flash cartoons with binary or hex glitches, that kind of stuff.”
“That’s brilliant. I’ll frame it, you make the links and shit? We stick in some code and dog-whistles that these idiots will recognize that most people won’t and we draw smart boy to come to us?” He was sounding more coherent now.
“Double order of dog-whistles with cheese, coming up,” I agreed, yawning again, this time hard enough to pop my jaw. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Uh…” He glanced at the clock. “10. We slept in.”
I craned my neck around to scowl at him. “We who? You and the mouse in your pocket? I’ve been awake for hours, at least.”
“Mattress shopping so you can sleep better at my apartment? Is that where we’re going next?”
“Orrr,” I teased, “we can just sleep on your couch when I stay the night?”
“Or, and hear me out, we get a mattress my amazing girlfriend doesn’t hate. So that she wants to come over more often.”
My nerves spiked outrageously, and I fought not to show it. “That sounds like a pretty major step. I don’t even have a toothbrush over here.”
“Yes, my bathroom and its famous black hole that makes toothbrushes of yours just. Vanish.” He said, quietly. “Lash, it’s okay if you aren’t comfortable coming over here more often but I still want to get a bed that’s comfortable for you when you do.”
I started squirming when he called me out. “I like being over here, especially with Mori and the kids staying in the apartment while my parents are still in the hospital. But you bought that bed - which, I’m not stupid, was a few grand easy - because it’s what you prefer, and you live here.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt before looking back up. “Can we compromise on a mattress topper for half of it?”
“We can get a mattress topper with a lot of memory foam or something to make it more comfy for you. Does that work?”
I nodded, biting my lip to hide my residual anxiety. “And I’ll figure out what’s causing the black hole and stop the vanishing toothbrushes.” And we are totally going to pretend I haven’t been throwing them away. “With that decided… do we have time for me to take a nap before our regularly scheduled shenanigans, or am I running on coffee and the promise of an early night?”
“Class starts in half an hour, so coffee, unfortunately. Not even that if you don’t get dressed.”
I looked down at myself and realized several things: I had no pants on, not even shorts; I was wearing Nils’ shirt from yesterday, backwards and inside out, and at no point had I thought to grab - “Oh my god,” I bolted to my feet. “Shower, dressed, give me five minutes and we’ll be out the door.”
Writing this chapter was... interesting to say the least. Creating such a disgusting character with @baelpenrose was both more and less of a challenge than expected. But hey, Bael got to brush off his knowledge from his troll hunting days, so that came in handy.
Guy still gives me the creeps, though.
I don't need no arms around me
And I dont need no drugs to calm me.
I have seen the writing on the wall.
Don't think I need anything at all.
No! Don't think I'll need anything at all.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
All in all you were all just bricks in the wall.
Pink Floyd, “Another Brick in the Wall, Part III”
Lash
A couple days later, after Nils and I had agreed to take some space and get some social ‘fresh air’, I was in my parents’ apartment, listening to Baba snore gently when my phone buzzed. Nils’ name popped up on the screen, which wasn’t unusual since we did check in each day. I ignored it for the moment, deciding to clean the one or two dishes from Baba’s lunch. However, no sooner had the water started to heat up in the sink than my phone started buzzing more urgently.
I sighed, dried my hands, and answered. “This is new. You never call.”
“Neither do funny AIs, but times are changing.” Nils’ voice contained the self-satisfied tones of a man delivering an inside joke. “I think we really might want to check our place of business to work on the breakthrough.”
“Exciting times,” I murmured, trying not to wake Baba in my shock. Our little pestilential question mark had already made contact. “Let me leave a note for Baba. Mori should be home in about an hour, but I don’t want him to wake up and panic if I’m not here. Or, you know… do something stupid in a fit of toxic masculinity.”
“No worries. We have a little time before the meeting with the investors.” Nils’ voice was quiet, and he sounded for all the world like an insufferable young man going into a tech startup with his girlfriend. “Let’s sell it, babe.”
He disconnected, and I took a deep breath. First, finish these dishes or I’ll never hear the end of it from Mori, I decided. Mama was still in the hospital due to a respiratory infection - nothing major, the doctors swore, but they wanted to keep a close eye on it to be safe. Less than fifteen minutes later, I had a note left by Baba’s bed and was out the door.
Getting to the abandoned mall was a journey in and of itself, both as a consequence of public transport and because I took a few unnecessary routes out of sheer paranoia. I finally got there, and Nils was waiting for me with a surprise.
“Bishop!” I gasped in excitement, trying not to scream. The gruff-looking older man took the bag out of my left hand and hugged me with his free arm. “Hey, Baklava. Good to see that face in one piece.”
“He’s been briefed, and he’s spent the last several hours helping us set up the VPNs - far as our mark knows, we’re not in the same country. He’s here to monitor the connection and make sure the fucker doesn’t start tracing us through it as we talk.” Nils spoke, quickly. “You play yourself but more grandiose, I have to play the asshole as we sound him out, but if he’s wise to the game, we drop the act a bit and try for more subtlety, and we can play a little more open and hook him in. Stay noncommittal and keep our cards close to the chest no matter what - Bishop and I already physically debugged the place, but if there’s digital bugs we didn’t get or coming from his end, we can’t give them anything that’ll hold up as a confession. When in doubt, look at Bishop, or glance to me, I’ve been reading my mother’s legal shit nonstop for days now.”
Anxiety immediately spiked through me. This was happening. I nodded. “Okay, got it. Let me drop off some of this food, and we can get on it.”
Bishop made a mockery of a fake pout. “You mean this isn’t all for me?”
I glanced at the huge bag of food he had, and the one in my other hand. “Sure. I am completely certain you can eat twenty pounds of food. Especially since it’s mostly veggies and carbs.”
That made him do an about face. “My plumbing thanks you for the warning.”
The guys helped me drop off food to the storefronts where people were most likely to camp out, and we made our way to the breakroom in the old Sears. I flopped on the same beanbag I used last time with a puff of dust and started unpacking my laptop. “Let’s get me through all the VPNs, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Nils and Bishop helped me get set up, with Bishop exaggeratedly and pointedly looking away at Nils’ whispered apologies to me for his snipiness, and him holding out a hand for me to take.
We had just barely finished getting my audio set up when Nils looked at me. “We got this, Lash.”
“We got this,” I agreed, adjusting my mic. “Time to turn ‘on’ our online mad hacker personas.”
He walked over to his computer and hooked in his audio. As I saw his signal, it was the familiar black chess king icon, but the “ANothing49BC” was gone. Beneath the icon was the screenname “Nihilus Rex.”
I looked at him, quizzically, and said, “New handle?”
“Same old, really. Just a bit more gravitas. If I’m gonna be the king of this shitshow, I have to remind everyone I’m still King of Nothing.” His voice sounded manic, nervous, but with an underlying tension to it.
“Nihilus Rex.” It did have more gravitas than his original handle, and it suited him better, if I was being completely honest.
Then the call started.
The pfp I was looking at contrasted both with my highly stylized Phoenix and Nils’ Black King - it was a skull with a dagger spiked through it, vertically. Underneath, the handle - MostDangerousPlayer.
Didn’t that say lovely things about the person we were going to be meeting with.
No one spoke. No one spoke, and I was half convinced there was some sick white people power play going on.
Then Nils finally spoke, and I was absolutely certain. “Hello, you asked for a meeting to discuss certain…collaborative opportunities?” His voice was light, easy.
“I have questions about your work with the banks.” The voice on the other end was calm, flat. It almost sounded fake, and I was inclined to think it was.
“That’s interesting. We have questions about any potential partner - our work with banks is a bit sensitive. Clients worried about confidentiality for obvious reasons.” Nils was obviously playing multiple angles - if this was a fed, it would look like Nils was being careful to avoid being fished, as we’d discussed, but if this was for real this would look like an abundance of caution. I heartily approved, especially in light of my previous gaffe with the FBI agent.
“Alright. Then can we talk about roles within the…organization, I’m looking at? I feel that that should be safe enough to discuss, without violating client confidentiality. And I’d like to hear both of you speak.” The voice on the other end seemed bemused - and like it understood what was happening. What we were concerned about.
Nils glanced to me and mouthed, “give just a little.”
I put on my customer-service voice, pitched down slightly. “Apologies. I am dealing with some delays in the audio, but I am here.” That should be safe enough. If anything, it would emphasize the theoretical distance between us. “What roles were you most interested in?”
“Oh, I think I would be interested in determining if your enterprise is real. If it is, I have…interests, in the field of corporate discipline. Helping targets get met, helping logistics be organized, all that.” He emphasized the word discipline ever so slightly, with stress on the wrong syllables to give no mystery as to what it meant. He’d already twigged we were playing, that the Disciples weren’t entirely real, but that he was offering to help make them a real thing. “But I think you misunderstand my question - what roles do you two play?”
I turned to Nils with wide eyes, just in time to catch Bishop shaking his head at his screen. Not a good sign, and Nils clearly caught it as his expression darkened.
Then he carried on, undeterred. “I’d say that the phoenix is…unorthodox, one might say, but something of a diversity coordinator and invaluable to our efforts, and that I am more or less the corporate executive. Thus far everyone pitches in on the technological side - there is also a chief of system security.” Nils’ voice at the end took on a mocking edge.
The guy at the other end of the call chuckled. “Ah, that’s the way of it. This seems like a project built on a dream. And unless I’m missing my guess - you’ve already had some results.”
“One could say that.”
I chose that moment to speak up a little. “You seem to have at least some idea of our…goals. It only seems fair to ask a bit about your background.”
“Did human intelligence for the military for a while, got out back in 2013, realized that for all the military promises to teach you marketable skills the two skills they taught me that’re more marketable than anything else in this day and age aren’t something I can put on a resume. You guys’ marketing campaign for new talent said you were looking for security, cyber and physical, and I can do both. You want smart, I already proved I can run you down and crack the codes you came up with that were cyphered across a bunch of different communities and worldviews. You guys seem smart and capable, and willing to work from a bunch of angles, and I want to get in on the ground floor of something like that, rather than getting caught with a bunch of useless eunuchs stuck in an echo chamber.”
I gave Nils a skeptical look. To my knowledge, our ‘campaign’ hadn’t said anything about physical security - we had Nils’ fucknuckle minions for that. But the level of crazy this guy was giving made it clear we definitely needed him on our side rather than against us.
“Our campaign didn’t say anything about physical security, but I don’t have complaints about your application.” Nils said, slowly. “That was clever. Question, though: what echo chamber did you leave to find us? And why did you leave them? Be honest.”
“I appreciate the question, actually. So, I was stuck with a bunch of white supremacist dipshits for a while. I kinda got the “white power” thing, but they were wrong about the reasons - white people didn’t rule the world because we’re better, we ruled the world because we conquered it and that’s how power works. When they started talking about white genocide or great replacement I started losing my goddamn mind that I was putting up with them. If they really thought they were better, they should have relished the chance to prove it by competing rather than try to use the government to crack down, and if they couldn’t do that, then obviously whites aren’t the master race and it's our turn to be subjugated. Natural selection, rules of nature. Essentialists are idiots.”
My eyes got wide again. Oh, he’s crazy crazy. I looked at Bishop again, and he looked just as concerned as I was. Nils, on the other hand, looked like this is exactly what he had expected. Which, again, tracked.
“I won’t pretend that isn’t deeply concerning to me. I have a question: if our aim is partially to prove that the ‘rules of nature' don't apply along racial lines, but along different axes entirely, do you see yourself objecting?”
“I’m open to not supporting or disputing your theory until I see it in action. And I’m open to helping convince the idiots who aren’t good for anything else to do what you tell them if you’re correct.”
I muted my mic and gestured for Nils to do the same. When he nodded to confirm, I was still barely above a whisper when I spoke. “This is really feeling too easy,” I wondered. “For someone who has spent weeks undermining us and trying to get your army out from under you, he’s caving entirely too fast.”
“He did fail to get my army out from under me,” Nils mused. “Think about his offer. He wants to be the lieutenant that helps coordinate my army for us, and at least for right now, our interests and his genuinely align. Throw the government into chaos, right? Let the world return to ‘rules of nature - predator vs. prey, social darwinist, not…actual rules of nature’ - and see who wins. But he’s spent the last several weeks getting dribbled by me in those spaces because I’m smarter than he is overall. But give him that access…what’s to stop him from taking his orders until our interests diverge and he can take the army we handed him and Order 66 us?”
I held up one finger and unmuted my microphone. “What are you willing to offer as a gesture of good faith that we can believe you?” I muted myself again and shrugged at Nils while Bishop stifled a laugh. “Worth a shot.”
“The current screen name attached is my more used handle - trace it back and you’ll find more about me. Well within your skills from what I’ve seen. I also have cold evidence of something you’re very interested in. I’ll send you a sealed file in a drop if you provide a place for me to drop it. If you find it interesting, you know where to message me.”
Nils paused, muted his mic, and looked at the trace for the screenname. “Wow. This is…not well sealed.” Then he unmuted. “I want it perfectly clear that you cannot begin to imagine the level of hate I will rain on your motherboard for the rest of time if I open a malware packet.”
“I would still scrub whatever you find like it has STDs,” I murmured.
Nils gave the code for a blank webdrive we had access to. Then a file was dropped in. Contained in that closed file was a zipped video of a molotov attack on a cafe with two semi familiar individuals and one stranger cursing at each other to run. The cameraman’s arm was visible, with a very familiar swastika tattoo.
“Opinions?” Nils voice was quiet.
“Christ…” I swore, rubbing my face. “That’s… Scary, but definitely a show of good faith. Were there any strings?”
Bishop stood and started pacing and cursing under his breath. “There’s a fourth one.”
“That is neither here nor there,” I forced out, as much as it was killing something inside me. “Was there anything attached to the file? Tracker, virus, anything suspicious?”
“No,” Bishop replied, slowly. “It was clean. For what it’s worth, this guy is interested in joining up.”
“I’ll be honest, he gives me two heebs and a jeeb, but it’s pretty clear Bishop’s right,” I admitted. “Nils?”
“If we can use him, and he’s not trying to fuck us over, we can make do, yeah.” his response was terse.
Bishop took his seat again, combing his beard with his fingers. “Then it’s unanimous. Reluctant, but unanimous. But I do plan on keeping tabs on this guy with as much time as I possibly can carve out, just so the two of you know.”
Nils nodded, so I unmuted my mic. “Package received and reviewed. Thank you for that. Everything looks good on this end. I think we can do business together, pending a second review. I’m sure you understand.”
