Culmination
This is the twenty-third part of the O Maker Mine plot. It is preceded by We All Become. It is followed by Pilgrimage.
Jastes Verdan | Present Night | Civitrecce [Universe B]
Jastes sat alone in the old resistance hideout, staring blankly out of its now-smashed windows.
Rain fell lightly. It felt almost too normal - something that would happen on any other night in Civitrecce.
It reminded him of the night he’d met the artifice again in the park.
The night everything had started to go wrong.
At least it was mostly quiet now, and some trolls could be seen going about their business - if openly wielding weapons and constantly looking around, wary of attack.
He missed Torvah. He’d barely known his ancestor, but he missed them badly, wanted them here to assure him he was doing something - anything - right.
He wasn’t sure anymore.
The cyborg felt adrift, clinging to a raft he had to constantly repair to keep from sinking.
He’d kept most of his people and the refugees alive, but food supplies were running low, even with the gardens he’d had trolls cultivate and the animals some trolls had managed to hunt on trips outside the city.
Even if they were supposedly due to return to their native universe soon as was the news from that greenblood, Maidel, and the tealblood she was working for…what then?
Despite the damage his choice had done - though the Grey Mob had finally almost beaten QPIN at last - Jastes refused to go back to how things were before.
For the first time in his life - for the first time in everyone’s lives - they’d tasted what it was like to live without constant surveillance.
Without the yoke of the trident pressing down - forcing them into columns, into too-long shifts at factories - they could truly live.
He would go back to his original universe. But he would not go back to misery.
Even now, he sat and rested only because he’d spent the last few hours covertly gathering more parts and supplies for a project he was only trusting a select few trolls with: the expansion underground, building a tunnel to an entirely different cavern where his drones and droids were setting up shop at this very moment.
He could control multiple bodies and program-selves at range with barely a flick of conscious thought now: it had become automatic.
With the protection of the robot this ‘Legion’ organization had sent him for the refugees and Phasma here on the surface assisting the Mob, he could spare them for that work and to keep it a secret.
He didn’t want anyone knowing where they were. Not the empire, not the Grey Mob, not a single other soul.
Many Civitrecce lowbloods had died. Others had refused to come down. Some had left the city entirely, searching for whatever else this new universe might have to offer.
Much as it hurt, he knew he had to let them make their choices. He could only help trolls who wanted to be helped.
And if he was entirely honest…he was relieved to not be responsible for a whole city.
He would admit - if only to himself - that he never could have done that. Not with any real success, anyway.
Maybe even Torvah couldn’t have managed it. Not with how complicated things were now.
He paused. His proximity alarms and cameras had caught -
Oh. It was just Phasma.
The half-drone crashed through the wall and directly into the yellowblood, knocking the wind out of him and slamming him so hard into the opposite wall that part of it crumbled around him.
What?
This shouldn’t be possi -
It grabbed him, unfurled its massive buglike wings, and jumped through the roof, breaking it into pieces as it shot through into the air.
“Why!!” He shouted, all his questions condensed into that one word as his head spun from what had just happened, frantically trying to figure out if he’d messed up altering Phasma’s code after all -
“Is it such a fucking mystery?” The hybrid breathed, voice vibrating with quiet fury as it stared him dead in the eyes.
“Do you really - ” It wrenched one of his arms off and threw it aside as they flew higher. “ - have to fucking ask?”
Jastes paused, hardly caring about the mixed yellow and silver blood coming out of him, the distant pain of severed flesh and metallic bone.
“You got someone to undo my restraints.”
“Bingo.” Snarled the half-drone, and it threw him hard, hard enough he only had time to curl up and throw up a quick forcefield as he made a small crater in a sidewalk, scattering screaming trolls who ran from the impact.
Ow. He felt the pain more now.
Jastes struggled to move, his whole body shaking, barely even able to register the loss of his arm given everything else.
Who had undone his work? Why would they do such a thing?
How had Phasma gotten them to agr -
It landed on his body with a sickening crunch of bone and metal as over three hundred pounds of hybrid stood on him, disintegrating his forcefield.
Oh. He might actually die from this.
Jastes coughed up a mix of yellow and silvery blood.
Well.
Maybe he deserved it.
And he had spare bodies.
He had -
The cyborg passed out.
—
Jastes was surprised to wake up in the same body Phasma had attacked.
He still hurt a lot. His throat was dry as a desert.
But he could feel his nanotechnology slowly repairing his body, rebuilding his arm, row by row of metallic cells.
They were back underground, he could tell, as he blinked blearily and looked around.
He was…yes, he was on his cot. He still hadn’t had time to upgrade to a proper recuperacoon, and the refugees needed them more anyway.
Phasma walked back in the door and shut it behind them, eyebrows raised.
“I’ll give you one thing, Verdan, you recover quickly. I thought you’d be out for at least a few more hours.”
“Why’m I notdeads.” The yellowblood slurred, coughing a bit.
The hybrid snorted. “And bring this place crashing down around me? No thanks.
No, you get to live because you’re too much trouble to kill, and because this experience has hopefully taught you a fucking lesson.” It drawled.
“Uhh.” Jastes said, his brain still working slowly. “Sorry.”
Phasma cracked up.
“I bet you are! I bet you fucking are, you idiot. As for your earlier question: you’re not the only one who can mess with code. I made a trade with someone I knew wouldn’t fuck me over, and here I stand, free of your shit.”
Jastes knew he should probably be angry, but all he found in himself was a sense of guilt and a gnawing realization that he probably shouldn’t have restricted Phasma’s behavior to begin with.
He’d just…
He hadn’t wanted to take any chances.
He hadn’t wanted even more of his trolls hurt. Not again. Not when he still had no idea where half of the original resistance had gone.
No one had found their bodies, but even QPIN hadn’t had any information on them.
But…he should have at least tried to reason with the hybrid, he realized.
Phasma sat down on the floor with its oddly prim pose, legs crossed as it leaned forward, the long part of its silver-black hair waving slightly. He almost smiled for some bizarre reason.
It rolled its eyes at him in return.
“And as for your dumb fucked-up pitchcrush on me - ”
“What? No!” The cyborg protested, his mouth now healed enough to talk properly despite its dryness. “I don’t - why would you think that? That’s crazy!”
Phasma looked at him, then loomed over the cyborg and opened its mouth wide, smiling at him with all those gleaming black teeth.
Jastes felt a flush creep across his cheeks that he knew with a sinking feeling wasn’t embarrassment or anger.
“Oh god.” He muttered, now yellow to the tips of his ears. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Oh, grow up, you’re not the only troll in the world to feel some kind of way when a freak flashes their fangs at you.” They said in an unimpressed tone as they sat back down.
“I couldn’t care less what you’re into, I’m just not interested.”
Jastes covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t ask you to be. Ugh.”
Phasma laughed at him.
“Have fun with that, Verdan. Back on topic: you owe me for what you did. I’m leaving, but I want to be able to come back here if I need to, and I want the best disguise tech you can make.”
Jastes sucked in a breath, but he knew he couldn’t deny Phasma. It was right.
“Done.” He said, nodding.
It smiled slightly.
“Good boy.” It said condescendingly, and he flushed a bit again, hating himself for it.
“You stop that.” He grumbled.
“Why, because you like it too much?” The hybrid retorted with a yawn. “I’m owed some entertainment.”
“Anyway.” Jastes said, then coughed, determined to change the subject. “Bring me some synthetic flesh or spare tech, and I can start on that.”
Phasma looked amused, but nodded, and got back up and walked out of the door, shutting it again.
Jastes stared up at the stony ceiling.
What a mess.
And it was all his fault.
Everything was, really.
Not that that was news.
No matter what he did - no matter how many people he saved, how clever he was with his tech and his powers - he always seemed to make the worst choices when it mattered the most.
Was that how Torvah had felt all those sweeps ago? Did they regret sealing the artifice away?
He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them.
Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference.
Maybe nothing he’d done really had.
Not yet.
But he couldn’t stop here.
Something had to change. He had to change something.
As the cyborg lay there, his body slowly repairing itself, he realized what he needed to do.
—
“Are you serious.” Xineck said, the maroon man’s tone flat as he, Edri, Uthern, and Jastes met in one of the cavern’s small rooms a few hours later.
Jastes nodded calmly, now fully mended and changed into unruined clothes.
“Of course I am, Xin. I need to step down, and if you’ll accept, I want you to lead inste -“
“Shut the fuck up.” The redblood muttered. “Just - fuck it, fine, you have a point. But it’s not gonna be just me. That hasn’t worked too fucking well, now has it, only one of us assholes calling all the shots.”
He took a deep breath, touching his fingers to his forehead, then looking at the other three trolls.
“If we’re really making a whole new settlement, we need to do better than that. We owe it to our people.”
He nodded at Uthern and Edri.
Uthern nodded back, and Edri smiled in approval.
“If we’re really doing this…” Xineck sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly.
“Then I want us to have a council. We’ll get some reps from our refugees, too, some new blood, at least two trolls of every caste we’ve got so everyone is represented.”
Jastes smiled. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it was a start.
“I’ll still be in charge of technology, if you’re okay with it.” He offered. “I was always better at that anyway.”
“Nah, I was thinking of putting you on janitorial duty.” Xineck retorted with heavy sarcasm, which made Edri cough-laugh and Uthern smile slightly.
“Get your head out of your shiny metal ass. Of course I still want you on tech. Who the fuck else would I pick?”
Jastes laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
Then a polite knock came from the door, and they all looked over.
“Come in.” Jastes said, curious.
Quinne - in her maroon disguise - came in, shut the door, and turned her psiionics off, tail waving back and forth in excitement.
Her red and white eyes were happy, and she had a big smile on her pale gray face.
“I jus’ heard from that greenblood girlie; they’re gonna have us back in a few nights! She’s workin’ double-time with some Civi troll called Process who said, uhhh - ”
She screwed up her face, then said ‘ah’ and continued.
“They said ‘Hold strong, Jastes. We have a troll manipulating time who will help take care of the fleet’s response to Civitrecce coming back. Still, ready your people.’”
“Or somethin’ like that.” She added with a shrug. “You guys got any snacks?”
The clearblood had actually put on a little weight since he’d met her, becoming less malnourished. It cheered Jastes to see it.
It cheered him to know that despite how badly he had messed up, it wouldn’t be for nothing.
He tossed Quinne a pack of fruit rollups from his sylladex, then turned away, so the others wouldn’t see a few yellow tears running down his face.
Which only enabled the mutant to jump on him, cackling as she bowled him over and he squealed in surprise.
The other resistance trolls laughed too.
“I gotcha!” She crowed. “I got ya, Jas! One hundred percent gotten!”
“Yeah.” He agreed, smiling through his tears.
“You really did.”