Your name is TAGORA GORJEK, and you just survived your first assassination attempt.
Not many are as lucky as you to have made it to your eighth sweep around the sun without such an experience (or several), so you do your best to keep that in mind as you stagger back to your feet. The world feels like it’s spinning around you-- are you in shock? Probably. You’ve always been a bit of a weakling when it came to things such as these. There’s grass stains and dirt on your clothes and in your hair, and your side is definitely bruised from where Bombyx kicked it, but you are alive and that is what’s important.
The air is dead silent from when the alien called out a name… Polypa?
Oh.
Oh, shit.
You are going to kill Tegiri.
“For fuck’s sake, woman!” you explode, losing all fear as you storm over to the oliveblood and yank her up by the ponytail. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take you to court for this, right now-- uh, are you okay?”
Goezee hasn’t even tried to slice off your fingers for touching her. She and the alien are just staring at each other, wide-eyed and speechless. The alien’s gaze briefly flicks over to you before they look back at Polypa, and they wince.
“Uh… Gor-Gor, do you mind letting go of my moirail?”
… You are going to kill Tegiri, bring him back to life, and then kill him again.
“Your moi-- of course. Of course you’re dating the assassin.” You step back and massage your temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “Yes. Of course.”
Goezee comes back to life in the blink of an eye and slaps your hand away. She goes down on her knees next to the alien and flings her arms around them, letting out a string of the most pathetic pale vocalizations you have ever heard, and that includes the porno Tyzias sent you as a prank for your seventh wriggling day.
“What the fuck?” Stelsa demands, before she bends over with a pained cough.
“Yes, my feelings precisely. Our mutual friend has lovers in high, er, low places, it seems,” you huff, going to help her up before your eyes fall on something a little more distressing.
Lanque Bombyx is on his stomach in the grass, unmoving and silent.
“Bombyx!” Before you even know what you’re doing you’re beside him, shoving him over onto his back with a grunt. Your guts flip over on themselves in fear. “Lanque? No, no, come on, you Troll Gucci-loving jackass, you’re the only one I’ve ever had a good conversation about accessorizing with, I forbid you from dying on me now--”
A low groan rises up from the bloody mess, and you’re able to breathe normally again. “Please stop talking, it’s too loud.”
All at once, the alien, Goezee, and Stelsa are joining you and Lanque, with Goezee tight-lipped and the alien growing increasingly scared for their friend.
“Did you hit any vital organs?” Stelsa demands.
“No, I was just trying to get him off me, not kill him.” With practiced ease, the oliveblood pulls out a clean rag and a small bottle full of some green liquid. She unscrews the cap and dumps some of the liquid into the stab wound on Lanque’s shoulder. The jadeblood heaves with a pained hiss, growling deep in his chest.
“Lanque, I’m so sorry,” the alien whimpers.
“Oh, darling, you’re the one who stopped this bitch from completely eviscerating me,” Lanque breaths, reaching over to gently pat their thigh.
“This bitch is keeping your injuries from getting infected and jump-starting the healing process,” Polypa grunts. Ignoring another furious spit, she tightly wraps the stab wound with the rag and ties it down. “Make sure to clean out the other cuts when you go home. Avoid moving that shoulder around for a couple wipes.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Lanque rasps.
Polypa rolls her eyes. “Of course.”
You and the alien help him to his feet, and relief helps you stay grounded when he’s able to walk without too much difficulty. It’s no secret you’ve got a soft spot for jadebloods, and if he had died because of you… well. You don’t want to think about it.
“What about Bovois?” you ask Polypa as the five of you make your way back up the sidewalk to the omniscuttlebus station.
“I’ll take care of him,” she promises grimly.
The bombs in your backpack weigh heavily on your shoulders and mind. If anybody had told you six perigees ago that you would soon be joining a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, you would have simply laughed in their face at the sheer audacity. Then, you would have called the drones on them. That’s what good, law-abiding citizens did, after all, and you are a good, law-abiding citizen.
But it had started way before that, hadn’t it? Ever since you befriended that alien and saw how good a person can be. Ever since something in your twisted bloodpusher came untangled, bit by bit, as the exposure to their warmth and kindness thawed you from the inside out. If it hadn’t been for Xigisi and all the other friends they made, you would have assumed you were losing your mind.
As of now, you have about twenty-eight hours until the beginning of the next mission. Tyzias has yet to hammer out all of the finer steps, which is slowly driving you insane because you want nothing more than to pester her for details, but you already had the nerve to lash out at the alien earlier over their time travelling shenanigans. Entykk is slow to anger, but even you know better than to test her twice in the same night.
Being that this is Thrashthrust, you and your group don’t receive so much as a second glance as you board the omniscuttlebus, even with you and the alien supporting a beaten-up jade boy and another teal and an olive giving each other nasty looks behind your back when they think you’re not looking. The ride out of the indigo part of the city is, unsurprisingly, a lot less enthusiastic than the ride in. Even Stelsa doesn’t say much other than a couple of warning hisses at Goezee when the olive accidentally makes eye contact.
By the time the omniscuttlebus reaches the station nearest to your hive, Lanque is able to walk by himself again, but you still don’t hesitate to quickly usher everybody inside your office-slash-home as quickly as you can. You can’t even bring yourself to care about the dirt left by the front door from peoples’ shoes.
“I’ll text Daraya and Tyzias,” Stelsa mutters, giving Goezee one last nasty look before sitting down primly on a loungeplank.
Something tugs at the bottom of your pants, and you glance down to see Ferretdad yanking away, an angry chitter rising up from his throat.
“I’m fine,” you promise him, crouching down so he doesn’t have to crane his neck as much. “We got the bombs and everything. See?”
You take off the backpack and show him. Ferretdad doesn’t look impressed, and squeaks at you to wait before bouncing off down the hall.
Any other time, you’d be embarrassed from all the fussing, but after what happened earlier you can’t bring yourself to protest. You busy yourself at your desk by turning on the coffee machine and getting clean mugs from the cupboards. A good cup of coffee would help clear your pan, and then you’d feel fine again.
A scoff from Lanque has your attention, even though he’s talking to the alien, who Goezee clearly wants to just be alone with. “You should have told me your quads were open, dear. I know many in the cloister who’d be a great match for you.”
The way he glares at Polypa makes it obvious he’s really saying I’d rather see you with anybody else than this filthy creature.
You privately agree. Why couldn’t the alien have chosen a good, dutiful jade from one of Lanque’s peers? Better yet, one of your own coworkers?
The alien smiles tiredly and pats Lanque’s arm. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. Geez, what’s up with jades and trying to get me to date their coworkers? Bronya asked me the same thing awhile back.”
“Perhaps she’s right about one thing,” Lanque mutters.
Polypa glares at him, pulling her moirail closer to her. “That’s nice. Shouldn’t you be in the caverns with your sisters?”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to murder some poor bastard?”
“Can we not?” the alien demands, shoving the two farther apart. “Don’t make me auspitize for you fuckers, because I will.”
“Tyzias says ‘Good job on not getting killed’,” Stelsa calls over.
“Tell her I said thanks.” You bring her the mug and set it down on the nutrition plateau. “Any word from Daraya?”
“She better not have told Bronya,” Lanque growls.
“Why do you guys need electromagnetic explosives?” Polypa asks, crossing her muscular arms.
“None of your business, stray.”
The alien ribs him. “We’re gonna wreck the drone factory.”
You turn to them with a hiss. “You can’t just go around telling people these sort of things! You’ll get us all killed!”
They roll their eyes. “Gor-Gor, she’s my girlfriend. She’s not gonna snitch.”
“I don’t snitch,” Polypa agrees.
A clattering from the back rooms announces the presence of Ferretdad, who comes huffing and puffing back into the living room, dragging a medicalizer kit that’s three times his size. He leaves it to bound over to Stelsa and bite her ankles until she relents, before doing the same to Polypa and Lanque.
“Thank you, sir,” Polypa says graciously, popping the kit open and selecting one (1) bandaid for herself. She slaps it on the massive puncture wounds on her forearm from when Lanque bit her. A bite like that would have given a lesser troll nerve damage, you note. You’d be impressed if it wasn’t because she was trying to kill you.
“Darling, if you could just put it over the stab wound on my shoulder? I’m afraid I can’t see it very well,” Lanque says, holding another bandage out to the alien while making the most pathetic pair of baby-barkbeast eyes at them.
“Sure!” The alien takes the bandage and holds the ripped sleeve open while they apply the bandage, tongue sticking out in concentration as they wipe a bit of blood away.
Lanque makes a big show of looking away, exposing his neck to them in the sluttiest display of pale-flushed behavior you’ve ever seen. He smirks at Polypa, whose pupils dilate in rage, a low rumble rising up from deep in her chest. The alien doesn’t seem to notice-- the frequency must be too low for their sub-par ears to catch.
By some miracle of the gods, Stelsa has the globes to intervene before the two start trying to kill each other all over again. “So! Polypa, was it? If I were to tell you that our little group here is part of a… rather rebellious faction with the intent to overthrow the Heiress and bring equality to all members of Alternian society, how would you feel?”
Polypa’s growling stutters to a halt. “I… I’d tell you that’s absolutely insane, probably borderline suicidal. Where do I sign up?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I like her,” Stelsa says happily. “No need to sign up for anything! Just keep your trap shut to everybody else outside of the group and I won’t feed your guts to the dire-ravens.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“We’re going on a mission tomorrow. Wanna come?” the alien offers.
“Absolutely.”
You groan. “We don’t even have all of the details yet, because my dearest coworker leaves everything to do until the last possible second before rushing off on a potentially deadly expedition--”
“Dude, how hard can it be?” the alien snorts. “I can teleport. Just give me the bombs; I’ll be in and out of there in, like, ten seconds.”
“I’m sorry, you can what?” Polypa demands.
“Teleport. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you in a bit.”
“Do you know how to set and time them? Do you know where you’re even going?” you ask, raising a brow.
“Um… no. But that’s what I have you for! Just set them up for me, and I’ll drop ‘em off and skedaddle. And, uh… I’ll bring the map?”
Stelsa and Lanque look at each other like, they’re gonna die.
The alien makes a face. “Well, unless anybody has a better idea, I’ll be the one doing this. I’ve done a lot stupider for a lot less.”
“I don’t doubt that,” you tell them dryly. “I just don’t like the thought of you going in alone.”
Polypa claps a hand to their shoulder. “Then I’ll come, too. I’m good at finding my way around.”
Your friend’s brow furrow, and for the first time, you see a glint of fear on their face. “You know I can’t ask you to do that.”
“No need to ask. I’m telling you I’m coming with you. I already lost you once,” Polypa snaps. “And that will never happen again.”
They groan. “I’m not gonna convince you to stay behind, aren’t I.”
“No. No, you are not.”
“Ugh.”
“Where will our base of operations be?” Stelsa asks.
“There’s an abandoned building two blocks away,” Lanque offers. “Nothing to fuck up if the bombs go off prematurely. Nobody to see us doing illegal shit.”
“Ooh, good idea! I’ll tell Tyzias and Daraya,” Stelsa says, already tapping away at her palmhusk.
You’re still not convinced the plan is foolproof. There was too much depending on the alien and Polypa finding the computer rooms undetected, placing the bombs, and leaving before they went off. The thought of drones or security finding and killing your off-world friend is enough to make your palms sweaty with anxiety.
“The waves begin tomorrow at three,” you force yourself to say. “We’ll meet at two in the abandoned building Lanque says is safe. Bring food and stuff to entertain yourself with. Providing it doesn’t take too long for the alien and Polypa to find the computer rooms, we’ll finish placing the bombs before the end of the fourth wave. We’ll leave, and once we’re a safe distance away we’ll set them off.”
The alien grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
“I’ll run it over with Tyzias when I go over later,” Stelsa assures you.
“Thanks.” You stare out the window at the lights of the city, where trolls of all castes and shapes and sizes were living out their lives, one possibly deadly night at a time. How many of them, given the chance, would join the rebellion? How many would cull you on the spot for even thinking about such a thing?
You think about Tirona, and the anger in her eyes when you first denounced the Alternian Empire in front of her. The grief you had tried so hard to suppress over losing the alien had boiled over after finding some selfies on your palmhusk they had taken when you weren’t looking, all freckles and cheesy grins. For the first time since you nearly failed an exam at the beginning of your legislacerator career, you cried at your desk like a little grub. Tirona had walked in and tried to cheer you up with some memes-- something about a rustblood getting culled for trying to speak up for themselves, and you just lost it. Instead of that shittily-drawn rustblood, you just kept thinking about your lost friend at the wrong end of a culling fork, and you told Tirona as such while shredding a file that would have condemned some goldblood to death for arson.
What you didn’t tell her, however, was that everything you did for the rebellion you also did for her. Hell, you and your coworkers practically raised the kid after her deadbeat lusus kept fucking off to who-knows-where. You still have daymares about the night you went in to check on her, not too many sweeps ago, and found her in a dirty respiteblock, naked except for a dirty diaper and a single sock. She’d been so dehydrated you and Tyzias both thought she wouldn’t make it through the following day.
If-- when you win, no kid will ever have to have a lusus like that again.
But it’s still a while before the moons will set, and you have a hive full of friends and tentative acquaintances alike.
You grin and turn to the alien and Polypa. “How about we get your dear moirail up to speed on all that’s happened, hm?”
"MAJOR TRAVEL DANGER" ok then why does the graphic look like the probability cone for a herd of bisexual flying unicorns that just got here from outer space with some trippy frozen desserts?
