A/N — This was inspired by Ancillary Justice (which is an excellent book, and I would 100% recommend), though the plots are completely different, so no spoilers here :)
And a massive thank-you to Amber and Ned for beta'ing this! (And Amber for coming up with the title)
For Abby :)
[8740]
[during]
"Nymphadora T. One K.S," Captain Delacour says instead of a traditional greeting. But that's understandable; who would say hello to an AI? Tonks remains impassive; it is no use telling her new captain what name she prefers to go by. She should have no preference.
"Do you require anything, Captain Delacour?" she asks instead, keeping her arms folded neatly behind her back — non-hostile, always non-hostile — and her expression blank.
Delacour looks at her, blinks once — confused, Tonks thinks — and then asks: "Where is my Lieutenant?"
"I have been instructed to take you straight to your quarters, Captain," Tonks says slowly. "Do you require nourishment?"
"On whose orders?"
"The Minister himself, Sir," Tonks says. She blinks slowly, registering the frown on Delacour's face, and takes a guess: "Ma'am."
Delacour's frown deepens, but she only makes a small 'hmm' sound in response. "Your last captain," Delacour begins, and Tonks can feel her facial muscles trying to twist out of their calmly neutral expression, "had to leave suddenly, I take it?"
Tonks nods once, stiffly. She had been careless with her last captain, she knew, and she was distrustful of this new one, sent in from a planet most of her crew didn't originate from — a strategically located one, yes, with an abundance of resources, but the distrust remained. Whispers of alien had been circulating the ship for weeks before Delacour's arrival, and rumours developed as people guessed what she could possibly have done to be assigned here.
Tonks doubted anyone would be careless enough to mention anything of the sort to their captain, but nothing could be kept from the ship.
"And I will be meeting my new Lieutenant soon?" Delacour asks.
"Yes, soon." Tonks gestures down the corridor, the strip lighting across the walls turning a soft pink in the direction they need to walk. An AI should never walk in front of their captain, unless their captain is in extreme danger; they must find other ways to give directions, without the need for constant chatter. Her previous captain had even gone so far as to disable her audio systems for half a decade.
.oOo.
[during]
When they reach Delacour's new quarters — twice the size of the crew quarters, and only required to house one person for a sustained period of time, but still cramped by planetside standards — Tonks stands to attention beside the door.
"Are you not going to come in?" Delacour asks; Tonks thinks she might be trying to hide an accent — she must be, for she is not from the same planet as the majority of the crew; the original human planet, as some call it — but she makes no comment. Delacour does it well, regardless; no one will likely be able to tell.
"Do you require me to?" Tonks asks.
"I would like to know how this ship has been run in the past," Delacour says, slight irritation bleeding into her tone, "and if I am to be confined to my room, I may as well ask the Nymphadora herself."
"I am Nymphadora T. One K.S," Tonks corrects. "If you wish to speak to myself in my entirety, there is a console in your room where you can communicate with the ship directly until your implants are updated."
Delacour huffs an annoyed sigh. "Zat ees not 'ow —" She coughs softly into her fist. "That is not how we do things, in the Beauxbaton region."
Tonks pretends she has not heard the slip, though they both know she has, and inclines her head gently. "As you wish," she says, and follows Delacour into the small room.
"Are you always this … indifferent?" Tonks opens her mouth to respond, but Delacour makes an odd noise in the back of her throat and makes gestures that Tonks should ignore the question. "Of course you are," Delacour says. "You are android." She doesn't say the word quite right, the connotations she gives it likely not translating as she had intended, but Tonks remains silent. Even without Delacour's implants being updated and synced with the ship, she understands her meaning. For some, android and different are essentially the same thing, so the slip wouldn't be too noticeable.
Tonks remains just inside the door, arms folded behind her, and keeps her eyes straight ahead.
"You look possessed," Delacour mutters under her breath, possibly thinking Tonks can't hear her; or perhaps she just doesn't care. Either is just as likely — those familiar with AI know they can easily find out anything they want to about you, as everyone's data is constantly being monitored, but the Beauxbaton regions don't employ their use as often as the Ministry, and they have only recently been annexed.
"Do you require nourishment," Tonks repeats, for lack of anything better to say. That is a fault of this her in particular; the inability to remain in absolute silence. It is, after all, why her captain had had to manually enforce it. Nymphadora as a whole, as a ship, has no such failings.
"No, thank you," Delacour says. Tonks is a little taken aback by this — no one's ever thanked her before, least of all a captain — but she decides it must be down to Delacour's unfamiliarity with AI.
"Would you like a complete history of the ship?" Tonks tries again; her expression is still mostly blank, but she can feel her mouth twitching as she tries to work out what it is exactly Delacour requires. She's not used to having to guess, but she supposes she won't for much longer. Medical is getting ready to link Delacour with her main database.
"Yes."
Tonks is reasonably sure she knows what Delacour means, but: "Construction began —"
"How did your last captain run things?" Delacour interrupts hastily. "And what are your other —" she pauses, a flash of what could almost be disgust appearing across her face "— bodies doing?"
"Are you referring to Nymphadora as a whole, Nymphadora T. K.S, or another Nymphadora K.S?" Tonks asks, careful to keep her tone impassive, though she finds the obviously irritated state of her new captain amusing.
"How many of you are there?"
"There are twenty-four Nymphadora series," Tonks says, "each with at least twenty units that are replaced when needed. And the main AI connects them."
"And you're all different people?" Delacour asks. Tonks is about to tell her that no, they are the same, just connected more like different areas of one brain than a single person with multiple bodies, but another question has occurred to Delacour. "Why only twenty-four?"
"Nymphadora B. K.S. was discontinued," Tonks says. "It had developed an inappropriate sense of humour." Delacour looks as if she's about to respond, but Tonks takes an almost petty satisfaction in interrupting with: "Medical is ready to see you now." Medical had, in fact, been ready for the last five minutes, but Tonks had decided to withhold that information.
Delacour's eye twitches, her lips thinning, but all she says us: "And where is Medical?"
"Nymphadora R. Seven K.S. is waiting outside to escort you," Tonks says, giving Captain Delacour a sweet smile. Delacour visibly recoils, face twisting into an expression of mild fear. Perhaps Tonks had misused the expression.
"Alright, thank you," Delacour mutters, subdued, and takes the few steps needed to activate the doors motion sensors and leave her quarters. Tonks stands idly for a moment, considering what to do. T. series had been banned from Medical, so she couldn't follow Delacour even if she'd wanted to, but T. series had been assigned as Delacour's personal connection to the main AI.
Nodding to herself — an oddly human gesture Tonks was unsure when she'd picked up — Tonks decided she would set about retrieving Delacour's belongings and unpacking. She had, after all, been granted access to her captain's quarters. That had not been revoked, and Tonks saw no reason to act as though it had.
.oOo.
[during]
When Delacour returns, rubbing the place where the implant was imbedded behind her ear though Tonks knows it isn't causing her any pain, she freezes in the doorway, staring down at where Tonks is crouched on the floor, surrounded by Delacour's belongings. Instead of commentating on the situation, Delacour says instead, "R. series has begun using slang."
"Ah, yes," Tonks says, not looking up from where she is meticulously folding uniforms, despite them having been perfectly folded before she'd removed them from the suitcase. "It has a tendency to do that. I'll notify the main AI and have it sent for correcting."
"No need," Delacour says, stepping over Tonks and sitting heavily on the bed. "I do not mind it."
Now that Delacour is connected to the ship's AI, Tonks can access whatever she needs from her. And seeing that expression of … something, Tonks decides checking its meaning is the best course of action. Captain Delacour is definitely feeling distress, Tonks justifies.
A girl — daughter? no, Delacour wouldn't have been assigned captaincy if she had a child. But the facial features are too similar. Sister then, or close cousin.
.oOo.
[interlude]
"I want to come with you," the girl says, pulling at Fleur's hand.
"I know," Fleur says, pressing a kiss to the top of her sister's head. "I'll miss you, too."
Gabrielle rolls her eyes. "I won't miss you," she says, though Fleur knows that to be untrue. "I'm just as qualified as you are —" also a lie; Gabrielle isn't even legally an adult "— I want to come with you," she repeats.
"You know you can't," Fleur says softly, her smile turning sad.
There's a longing in Gabrielle's eyes; Fleur knows her sister will miss her — of course she will, they've never spent more than a few days apart — but it's not just that. Jealousy, too, that Fleur wishes she could erase from her sister's heart. This is not something to be jealous over, though Fleur can't tell her sister what she suspects is happening. Even having such thoughts could be dangerous. She wouldn't dare to speak them, not to her sister.
"I will contact you as often as I can," she says instead. She doesn't imagine it will be very often — she's travelling so far away, and news takes time to reach as far out as Beauxbatons, right on the edge of the known universe — but she doesn't voice that aloud either.
"When will you be back?" Gabrielle asks. There are tears forming in her eyes, and Fleur doesn't wait for them to fall before pulling her sister into a hug.
"I don't know."
.oOo.
[during]
Tonks distances herself from the captain, both physically and mentally, though Delacour doesn't seem to notice. Her head is buried in her hands, and Tonks can read the beginnings of a headache in her vitals.
The memory hadn't been enritrely familiar, but some aspect of it felt … similar to something Tonks had seen before, but what that was she couldn't quite place …
"I do not know 'ow to be a capt'in," Delacour murmurs into her palms, looking through spread fingers at Tonks. "I do not know why I was assigned 'ere."
Tonks had not had the time to personally go through Delacour's records yet — though she knew her Nymphadora her must have done so, there was often a delay between information being learnt by one Nymphadora and the others receiving it.
Thinking for a moment, unsure what to do — yes, it had been an oversight on her part, not researching Delacour fully when she was the Nymphadora series assigned to personally assist the captain, but there was nothing she could do about that now — Tonks places her hand atop the captain's head.
And quickly withdraws it at the flash of pain and confusion registering from Delacour.
"What was zat for?" Delacour asks, annoyed now. Tonks had accidentally pulled some strands from Delacour's tight bun, and they fell down in messy tangles around her face.
"I apologise, Captain," Tonks says, inclining her head in an approximation of a bow, "I believe I misread the situation."
"In what situation would zat ev'r be necessa'y?" Delacour snaps incredulously, though her distress from earlier is entirely gone. Tonks decides she had acted correctly, and remains silent.
"You 'ave made a mess in 'ere," Delacour says when the silence has stretched on for nearing five minutes, according to the ship's internal timeframe. They had once been co-ordinated to a specific planet's timezone, but having spent so long in space they had drifted into their own.
"I can clean —"
"No," she says. "Thank you. I wish to sleep." Tonks makes to return to her position by the door, but Delacour adds, "You will not stand zere watching me sleep."
"What do you propose I do instead?" Tonks asks.
"Do you not 'ave work to be doing?" Delacour asks.
"T. series currently has fifteen active units," Tonks says. "They are attending to everything that needs it. I have been assigned to you."
Delacour rolls her eyes, a gesture Tonks doesn't quite understand, and says, "Zen you can wait outside."
Tonks nods, deciding she will take this opportunity to fully research her new captain. She's a little surprised Nymphadora hasn't passed the information on yet, but it's nothing she can't easily find out for herself.
.oOo.
[before]
"I'm going to be a captain!" the girl says, looking up to her … mother? Yes, her mother. "I'm gonna have my own ship and —"
"People like us don't become captains," her mother says, a sad smile twisting up her mouth.
"Why not?" the girl asks, indignation flashing across her features. And then, after a moment, happiness takes its place. "So I could be the first?" she asks, excitement lacing her tone.
"Oh, that would be wonderful," her mother says, though she doesn't look happy, her voice still soft and placating. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but —"
"Nope," she says, determination radiating from every aspect of her small being, "I'm gonna be the best captain the Ministry's ever seen. Then they'll have to hire people like us. They'll want to." She pauses a moment, then a wide grin spreads across her face. "And it'll be so much fun."
.oOo.
[during]
"T. One K.S," the nearest wall console sounds.
Tonks frowns, stepping in front of the wall panel. After a brief pause, unsure, she says, "Yes?" though it sounds more like a question than she would have liked. She can sense that the ship's main AI is contacting her, but she can't tell why, and that worries her. What could she possible want to keep from herself? How could she possibly be keeping something from herself? She clears her throat, forgetting for a moment that she has no need for coughing, and says, "T. One reporting … Nymphadora," she says, her name sounding strange on her own tongue.
Why would she need to contact herself like this?
"Lieutenant Weasley is requesting access to the shuttle bays," the voice over the console says, and Tonks immediately brightens; she hasn't seen Charlie since — "Not that Weasley."
"Which one, then," she snaps, "there are several." She ignores the pointlessness of being angry at another aspect of herself.
"Lieutenant Percy Weasley is requesting access to the shuttle bays," Nymphadora says. "At the Minister's orders."
That draws Tonks' attention. "Then open the hangar doors."
"I already have," Nymphadora says. Tonks frowns. "You are to escort him to the captain."
"The captain is sleeping," Tonks says. The console remains silent; of course, Nymphadora would have already known that. "I'll … wake her," Tonks says, feeling oddly reluctant to do so.
"No need." The console screen blends back into the surface of the wall just as a faint buzzing sounds from the captain's quarters. A thump sounds, followed quickly by another, and then the door slides open.
"What ees zat and 'ow do I stop it?" Delacour snaps, looking anything but the pristine captain she'd been hours before. Tonks feels mild surprise at that; she'd imagined Delacour to be the type of person who was always presentable, no matter the hour, though she isn't sure why she'd come to that conclusion. It wasn't in her programming to fantasise.
The alarm switches off as soon as the door closes behind Delacour, so Tonks doesn't bother answering the question. Instead, she says, "Lieutenant Weasley is here to see you, Captain."
Delacour blinks slowly. "Bill?"
"Lieutenant Percy Weasley, Captain."
"Oh," Delacour says, her lips turning down in a small frown. "I don't think I know him."
"He is one of the Minister's junior assistants," Tonks says. "I shall escort you —"
"I'm getting dressed first," Delacour says, and turns back to her quarters.
As soon as the door slides open, the alarm sounds again; though Tonks adjust the volume so it's easier to ignore, she doesn't turn it off completely. She reasons that it's to hurry Delacour in getting dressed, but really she's just a little annoyed at being interrupted. She wouldn't suggest Delacour wander the ship corridors in her regulation nightwear, she knew the Ministry mandated dresscode; the captain should have let her finish.
While she waits, she checks in with T. Eight K.S, her closest body to the hangar bay, making sure that it's escorted Weasley to the correct room. He'll just have to wait for Delacour there.
.oOo.
[interlude]
Fleur is assigned a very menial position aboard the Gringotts Exploratory Vessel. It's mostly crewed by a vaguely humanoid species — considerably shorter than most pure humans, as people have taken to calling those who originate from the original planet, though Fleur didn't know where that was. Longer limbs, too, and long, pointed ears.
They consider Fleur to be beneath them, incorrectly assuming she is close to pure — no one is entirely pure, except for those on the original planet, but those that originate from any planet annexed by the Ministry over a thousand years ago are considered such.
Fleur would be considered such, if not for a slight discretion on her maternal grandfather's part. But it was easy enough for her to hide, and it had been kept from her family records.
She stands with the other new crew members; everyone is young, looking around in wide-eyed awe — this is likely a lot of people's first assignment — but no one makes a sound. Fleur wonders if it's because they, too, are unsure what it is they're waiting for, but doesn't dare to voice her question.
And then — "Hello, everyone!" a man says, startling her, though she instantly relaxes at the wide smile across his face and casual demeanor. "Sorry for the wait! You've all been given your individual assignments, yes?" he asks, and there is various mumbled agreements as people pull out their data pads and open the information documents they'd all been given without his instructing them to do so. "Great!" he says, his smile widening, and he claps his hands together once. "Follow me, then, and I'll give you guys the tour!"
.oOo.
[during]
Percy Weasley stands up as Delacour enters the meeting room, followed closely by Tonks, and holds out his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Delacour," he says, his expression remaining impassive and he holds himself stiffly.
Delacour takes his hand, shaking it. "You are nothing like your brother," she says, her accent once again masked.
Weasley's lips thin, his expression tightening, but he doesn't comment. "I'm sure you've been filled in on the situation?" he asks instead.
Delacour frowns. "Situation?" she asks, taking the large chair behind the desk and leaving Weasley to use one of the smaller chairs opposite. Tonks goes to stand at the wall behind Delacour, folding her arms behind her back, and monitors the conversation. She could easily do so with just her AI, but she finds she likes to have at least one body available for use, should the need arise.
Before taking the offered seat, Weasley turns slightly to regard Tonks. "Identify yourself."
She bristles at the tone, but replies, "Nymphadora T. One K.S."
"Why were you not assigned the A. Series?" Weasley asks Delacour. Tonks' irritation grows at being dismissed in such a way — though she knows, of course, that she should not be irritated in the slightest — but she keeps her face impassive. At least, she thought she was succeeding at doing so, but Weasley frowns, and repeats the question, this time aimed at Tonks.
"There is no A. Series," Tonks says, though something about that doesn't quite ring true, as though she's forgotten something, but it's just on the grasp of her memory. Which is impossible; everything is stored in her main data banks. Should she need access to a memory, it would be almost immediately available.
Weasley frowns at that, but slowly lowers himself into the seat, and turns fully to address Delacour.
"You are linked with the ship's data banks?" he asks her, sounding a little patronising, Tonks thinks, but without access to his readings, she can't be entirely sure.
Delacour nods. "I was synced to the ship yesterday," she says, keeping her tone cool.
Weasley clears his throat, pulls out a data pad, and scrolls through his tabs until he has the right one open. Then, he sends the file directly to Delacour's personal pad. "I would have thought the ship would send this to you," he says, though Tonks can't tell if he's irritated or confused. Possibly both. She's never been good at reading conflicting emotions.
A bing sounds as the data is received by Delacour's pad, the little light on the casing above the screen flashing green, and she reads in silence for a few minutes.
And then scrolls back to the top of the page and reads everything again, her eyes moving across the text slower this time.
"Well, this is ridiculous," Delacour says. "I don't need you to babysit me."
Weasley takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "That is not what I am here to do," he says. "I am to ensure the annexation goes smoothly, when such a new —"
"And why are we even attempting this?" Delacour interrupts.
Tonks frowns. She doesn't have access to the document. Why doesn't she have access to the document?
"Because the Ministry —"
"But the Forbidden Forest has refused annexation since the beginning," Delacour says. "Or almost the beginning."
Forbidden Forest isn't the planet's true name, Tonks knows that much, but she can't access the document Weasley sent. Can't even access the history of the Forbidden Forest, can only see its coordinates. She feels something almost like dread twist in her gut. Fear. But why should she be afraid?
Why would she be keeping information from herself?
.oOo.
[before]
"Dad!" she yells, running through the back door and into their small house. She can't remember when they moved to this small planet on the edge of the universe — the known universe, her mother keeps correcting her, though even at such a young age she knows that really means the annexed universe — but she knows they haven't always lived here. "Dad, look what I found!" she says, no quieter despite being closer to him.
"Don't shout in the house," her mother scolds, but she ignores her and runs straight to her dad.
"Look!" she says, holding out her open palms. Cupped inside is a small toy, a miniature replica of one of the original Ministry ships. It's a little broken, damaged from being lost outside for so long, but she can still make out where Arcturus is engraved in the side. It might have originally been painted, too, but nothing of that remains now.
"Oh, that's —" her dad begins to say.
"Where did you you get that?" her mother snaps, snatching the toy from her hands, and holding it tightly in her clenched fist. She's never seen her mother look so angry, even with how prone she is to misbehaving.
"I — I found it," she stutters, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
"Dro—" At her mother's glare, her dad clears his throat and starts again. "It's just a toy," he says quietly. "What harm can it do?"
"No," her mother hisses, and she visibly recoils, leaning into her dad's side. A drop of blood, looking oddly silver in the lighting of their small home, falls the the floor.
"Mama, you're hurting yourself," she whispers, sniffing loudly and still clinging to her dad.
Her mother looks down at her hand, her expression changing too fast to note, and pulls the edge of her shirt up to wrap around her injury, hurriedly turning and leaving the room.
She doesn't let go of the toy.
.oOo.
[during]
When they touch down on the planet, something feels wrong, though Tonks can't pinpoint what exactly that is. The planet itself feels familiar, though it really shouldn't; no one's been here since … well, since before the Nymphadora had been created.
But still, she can't help that strange feeling of fear from gripping her.
She decides to remain close to the captain, monitoring her vitals at all times — it's an unnecessary use of energy, but Tonks can't help but feel like something is going to happen. If whatever it is hasn't already started.
"Is there no one to greet us?" Delacour asks, seemingly affronted. Tonks can see in her vitals that her overriding emotion is fear, worry, dread, and it does nothing to quell Tonks' own unease.
"These are a forest dwelling people," Weasley says, his tone taking on that of a lecturer. Tonks barely restrains from rolling her eyes. Delacour doesn't bother. Weasley looks mildly irritated, but continues, "Maybe we should go into the forest?"
Despite popular belief, the entire planet isn't made up of trees. Those that are there are dense and foreboding, but they don't take up the entire planet. There are clearings, some large — like the one they're standing in now, that could likely fit the entire Nymphadora if they chose to land here — and others are barely large enough to hold their landing shuttle.
Tonks doesn't have access to Weasley's vitals, so she can't know for sure what he's feeling, but he hesitates before starting forward towards the trees. Almost as if he'd hoped someone else would take the lead. But Delacour hadn't wanted to come down to the planet, despite her orders, and Tonks will always remain behind her captain.
Delacour, not wanting to be left behind, despite knowing Tonks is the most capable of defending them, jogs to catch up, and their small security team files in behind them.
.oOo.
[interlude]
Fleur sits on her bunk; she'd managed to grab the lower bed, but now she's regretting it, as she's tall enough she's forced to sit with her spine bent forward to avoid hitting her head on the bed above.
"That doesn't look too comfortable," her roommate says, an amused smirk twisting up the corners of her lips. Fleur doesn't bother replying.
They're from the same planet, which is, Fleur assumes, why they were roomed together. The entire ship is oddly segregated in a way Fleur hadn't quite expected, but she's hoping she won't be here long. Maybe it's just something the … goblin creatures have introduced. They dislike pure humans, after all, so it stands to reason that they might enforce some sort of policy to keep them separate.
That doesn't explain why all the new crew are pure, but Fleur supposes that has something to do with the Ministry's aptitude tests that determine everyone's assignments when they're old enough.
It's probably just a coincidence.
.oOo.
[during]
It's not just familiar, Tonks realises; she has the distinct impression she's been here before. But that would be impossible.
"Is the robot daydreaming?" one of the security guards asks with a laugh. Tonks can't quite remember his name; she could easily find out, could easily monitor the security team's vitals like she is with the captain, but she finds she doesn't particularly care.
"She is not a robot," Delacour says, surprising Tonks. "She is an android." Well, Tonks decides, it's the thought that counts, and she doesn't bother correcting her captain.
"Actually," Weasley says, "I believe she's —"
Tonks turns to see what's distracted Weasley, and finds herself freezing.
Surrounding them on three sides — all sides except in front, Tonks notes — are vaguely humanoid creatures; at least their torso is, anyway. From the waist down they are equestrian. Similar to horses, though the species became extinct millenia ago. They are completely bare except for leather straps crossing their chests, each bearing a weapon — bow and arrow, axe, sword — and the fact that they are carrying weapons feels odd, unnatural, in a way that their seemingly hybrid bodies do not.
And how had they approached without her noticing?
.oOo.
[before]
She can hear her parents whispering, though she doesn't know why they're keeping their voices so low. She was sent to bed hours ago, and there's no one else who could hear. Unless you count their city's AI, which monitors all the houses within its jurisdiction. But few rarely counted the AI. They were everywhere, they monitored everything —
"It's not safe," her mother hissed, her voice raising slightly; not much, but loud enough that she could hear it where she was pressed against the kitchen door. She wasn't sure how they could possibly be unsafe; with the AI monitoring everything, crime was very rare, and the Ministry's aptitude tests sorted out anyone with violent tendencies and assigned them 'positions accordingly'. She didn't know what that meant, but her dad had told her it was a good thing.
She could hear her dad responding to her mother, but he kept his voice too quiet for her to hear.
"They'll have seen!" her mother whisper-shouts, and she hears her dad making shushing noises.
Seen what? She looks around their small living room — she has memories of them living in a much larger space, but they are vague, like she's viewing them through a misted fog. But they are not badly off. They even have picture frames, an unnecessary luxury some even consider ostentatious, but she finds it's nice to see their family holograms framed in such a way.
As she's looking around the room, the AI console on the wall flashes red. It's never done that before.
No alarm sounds, though she feels like one maybe should. Something's clearly wrong, and usually when that's the case, an alarm sounds. Like when she'd tried to cook potatoes in the microwave and had set them on fire.
There is a sound though, like falling fabric, and the city outside the windows becomes clouded, like it's very far away.
.oOo.
[during]
None of the weapons seem to fire, and even though Tonks is programmed to be good at hand-to-hand combat, she finds she can't get a purchase on the creatures. Though not for lack of trying.
The other crew members have no such difficulty, and are able to get in a few good punches, but the creatures seem barely affected.
She can feel Delacour's fear growing, though Tonks is distantly proud of her captain for keeping it hidden from her crew — and Weasley, who was faring surprisingly well in the fight — but everything seems distant, like she's viewing things through a fog again. Again?
When Tonks finally feels like herself again — like T. One K.S — their hands are bound behind their backs — even Tonks', despite the creatures' obvious reluctance to touch her — and they're forced into a line, tied to one another. One of the security team lies unmoving on the floor, and when Tonks checks she can't find any vitals.
Distantly, a part of her is horrified — someone is dead, and they're just going to leave them there? — but she can't think why she should be affected so much. She is nearing a thousand years old; this is nothing she hasn't seen before.
Injuries happen often, particularly on such large ships.
.oOo.
[interlude]
"Shit!" Fleur hisses, and then looks around, worried. Were they allowed to swear?
"Language," the nearest console sounds, flashing a soft orange.
She waits a moment and, when the console gives no other warning, goes back to nursing her injured hand.
"Are you alright?" someone asks, approaching slowly. "I saw you —"
"Yes, I'm fine," she says, forcing a smile and bringing her hand up to her chest, as she turns to face the man who had given her the tour on her first day — Bill Weasley.
"Do you need Medical?" he asks. "I can take you there?"
"No, really, I —" she begins, but he's already reactivating the console and contacting the medical bay of the ship.
He types in a brief message that Fleur can't see over his shoulder, and then turns to give her a relaxed smile. "It looks like you're due for your checkup, anyway. Don't know how you managed to avoid one before boarding — I'm a little impressed, actually. One of my brothers tried, and was practically dragged to the medic."
"I went through all the tests on my home planet," she says softly. "My grandfather is a doctor."
"Oh, I see," he says. "Well, then this shouldn't be a problem, should it?"
Dread coils in her gut. "No, not at all."
.oOo.
[during]
They walk in silence for what feels like hours — for what Tonks knows to be hours — through the dense trees of the forest. They don't come across any more clearings, but Tonks knows they must have passed some. These creatures seem to know the forests very well — of course they do, Tonks chides herself, they live here — and are taking the route that travels through the thickest parts of the trees. She can't figure out why that might be.
But when they do finally stop, it's at the edge of the biggest clearing Tonks has yet to see; even bigger than the one they'd used to land in, which doesn't make sense. They'd chosen that clearing because it was the biggest open space the planet had to offer.
One of the creatures steps forward, and holds out its hand.
There is a ripple in the air that looks almost like static, and when Tonks blinks it's as if her eyes are coming slowly into focus. Distorted shapes appear at first — greys and whites and the occasional black — then then, slowly, they form shape.
The building sits at the bottom of a deep valley, but it's tall enough that the highest level is still above their heads. It looks like a castle from old fairy tales, the likes of which don't exist anymore on any planet Tonks is aware of, except the surface is wrong. It's made of … not metal, but not glass, either. Something in between.
How had they missed this during the initial scans? Why was it still not registering on her sensors?
A large door opens at the top of the closest tower, and another of the creatures stands just inside.
Just when Tonks is beginning to think these creatures expect them to jump across the large chasm, the one inside the turret throws across two long coils of rope. When the creature at the front on this side of the chasm grabs hold, the ropes straighten, the colour brightening, and strands spread out, connecting the two together into a surprisingly solid looking bridge.
There's a pause, and the creatures all stare at them expectantly.
When no one moves, Delacour, at the front of the line, is shoved none-too-gently forward, forcing everyone behind her to stumble after.
Tonks swallows thickly. This is all too horrifyingly familiar, though she still can't remember.
"Don't go in there," she whispers, knowing it will do no good. They have no choice.
.oOo.
[before]
"Mama!" she calls out. They'll know she's been listening, but … something's not right. "Mama, what's happening?" she asks, her voice shaking.
Her mother pulls open the kitchen door quickly, staring down at her with anger on her face.
"Mama," she whispers, pointing at the windows. They're not only misted over now, but entirely grey, shutting out the view of the narrow city streets outside.
Looking up, all the anger drains from her mother's face — all the colour, too, and her skin takes on a grey tone pretty similar to that obscuring their windows — and she clenches her injured hand into a fist.
She can see the bandages wrapped around her mother's hand — they look thicker than necessary, but she isn't a doctor. In fact, despite her clumsiness, she very rarely gets injured herself.
"Mama, what's happening?" she asks again, her voice a little stronger this time; braver for having both her parents near. But her mother only shushes her, taking a hesitant step towards the windows.
"Is there —" her dad begins, but he stops when her mother shakes her head.
There's a pause that feels like it stretches on forever — when in actuality it can't be more than a few seconds — before her mother whispers, "It's too late."
.oOo.
[during]
They encounter no more of the creatures within the castle itself, and the one who had let them in remains in that first room. The initial group that had found them within the forest dwindles down to two, though Tonks can't see where the others have gone.
The creatures seem to have some difficulty with the stairs, and Tonks suspects that this building isn't their creation; that they're just guarding it, though she can't guess as to their reasoning.
Her theory solidifies when they reach what appears to be the main staircases — for there are so many of them, filling a room Tonks can't make out the other side of, all crossing over and under each other in ways that look as though they should be impossible — and large portraits line the walls.
The faces captured within are old not in appearance — far from it, in fact — but style. They move, yes, but they aren't the holograms Tonks is used to seeing; these seem more … alive, but not quite as real. Holograms are a captured moment in time; a small video someone can carry with them and view without a screen. These are … like looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's reflection looking back at you.
One of the guards opens their mouth, a startled choking noise escaping. One of the paintings is trying to talk to him, but the words aren't in any language Tonks understands.
They're quickly dragged on, descending countless flights of stairs, all contained within that one room. It feels as if they're looping back on themselves, going up and backwards — and Tonks' internal sensors have been giving clearly false readings ever since they stepped onto the bridge — but every landing they reach is lower than the last.
When they finally come to a halt, they're in a different room, though Tonks' can't recall leaving the one with all the stairs, and the ropes are cut.
Before any of them can move, they are each shoved into a cell by people Tonks' hadn't been able to register. She turns just in time to see a transparent wall forming where the door should have been, and the hooded figures standing just outside.
They merge back into the shadows as the glass starts to cloud, until all Tonks can see is a grey wall in front of her, made of the same material as the castle itself.
.oOo.
[interlude]
The doors to the medical bay slide softly shut behind her and Bill, and despite the open area before her, and the carefully measured calm of Medical, Fleur feels like a trapped animal.
They'll know, she thinks, clutching her hand to her chest tighter, her nails digging into her wrist. She'll probably draw yet more blood, but it's too late.
"There's no need to look so frightened," Bill says, resting what she imagines is supposed to be a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It just makes her feel even more trapped, like he's ready to grab her and hold her down should she try to run.
Not that she would. It's far too late for that.
"Sit," the nurse says, gesturing to one of the many empty beds. Then she turns to Bill, adding, in a much harsher tone than she'd used to address Fleur, "If you need to stay, you can wait outside."
That's a relief, at least. Fleur would prefer he not bear witness to this. She isn't sure how long she's been a member of the crew here — time seems to move differently, both faster and slower than at home, and each day is mostly the same — but she's grown quite fond of Bill in that time.
She doesn't want that to change when he realises what she is.
"Well, you're going to have to let me see it," the nurse says, standing in front of Fleur with her arms folded across her stomach. Fleur slowly lowers her hand.
The nurse visibly startles, clears her throat, and then sets to organising her equipment, her hands shaking slightly.
Fleur stares blankly at the wall opposite to avoid staring at the silvery blood pooling in her own cupped palm.
.oOo.
[during]
They realise pretty quickly that they can still hear each other, despite being unable to see anything outside of their individual cells. And, when the guards don't tell them to stop, they use this to what little advantage they can.
Mostly, this seems to be for comfort, knowing that they aren't alone in here, but Tonks finds the constant hum of chatter irritating.
Delacour and Weasley, at least, seem to have quieted somewhat, though that doesn't help to ease Tonks' nerves either. At least when they're talking, she knows they're still alive.
But that's contradictory, and she's an AI. The two should be incompatible.
.oOo.
[before]
Her dad pulls her behind him, gripping her shoulders so tightly it hurts, and she clings to his shirt, pressing her face into his side.
Guards armed with weapons she has only seen on TV force their way into the small house, aiming their weapons at her and her family.
Her mother remains silent, though when she turns slightly there are tears falling softly down her cheeks. She's never seen her mother cry before, and it's that, more than anything else, that forces loud sobs from her mouth as she is grabbed, as her mother is grabbed, and her dad falls to the floor.
And then she is falling too.
.oOo.
[during]
Tonks can't tell who's left now. She even finds she misses the constant talking.
It might have been days, or it might have been mere hours, but there is no way to tell the time down here. No indication that it's even passing.
Everything looks exactly the same. As before.
But then someone coughs, and Tonks knows she isn't alone.
"Why don't they just kill us?" Delacour asks. Tonks, oddly, feels relief at knowing her captain is still there with her.
Tonks shrugs — a gesture she is specifically programmed not to do — before realising that Delacour can't see her. "I don't know, Captain," she says, though that doesn't ring quite true. She knows the answer, but the words won't come.
Delacour gives a choked laugh. "I'm not your captain," she says; Tonks would respond, but she's trying to figure out — "I don't know why I was promoted, why I was assigned this position, but —"
And, with a jolt, Tonks realises.
She's been here before.
.oOo.
[interlude]
Fleur had spent months waiting. Waiting to be fired, to be reassigned, arrested — she doesn't know, but when the message finally comes, it's expected.
The light at the top of her pad flashes red, the word important scrolling across the bottom of the otherwise black screen, and Fleur unlocks it. There's no use waiting; she's been dreading this, yes, but she's come to accept —
Fleur finds herself on her feet and moving quickly through the corridors of the ship before she's even fully registered what the letter says. It's only when her hand is reaching up to knock on the door, despite the ship's sensors being programmed to notify anyone inside when someone was waiting to come in, that she stops to think maybe this isn't the best idea. But by then it's too late.
"Come in," the cool voice of her captain says. They're goblin, like the majority of the crew, and in all her time aboard Fleur has managed to avoid direct contact with them. She steps through the door — it's too late to hesitate now. "Ah, Delacour," the captain says, not turning to look at her. The sensors must also have told them who was waiting outside. "I suppose you've heard the news?"
"Captain," she says, "there must have been a mistake, I —"
"The Ministry's aptitude tests do not make mistakes," the captain says, irritation bleeding into her tone.
"Y-yes, I know that," Fleur stutters, "but —"
"Then why are you arguing your new assignment?" her captain says with a sneer. "The tests have decided. You will captain the Nymphadora."
.oOo.
[before]
She wakes up alone; she doesn't know where her mother is, and she's trying desperately not to think of her dad. Instead, she takes in her surroundings.
Her vision is still clouded by tears, and her head throbs with each beat of her heart, but there isn't much to see, anyway.
All four walls are grey, made of a kind of metal — or is it glass? it looks like a cross between the two — and there's nothing inside the room. Not even a bed.
She sits cross legged on the floor, settling in for a long wait, when the grey wall to her left begins to take on an appearance like fog, looking like the reverse of what had happened to the windows of their home. Right before — no. She wasn't thinking about that.
But the wait isn't anywhere near as long as she's expecting — in fact, it's not long at all, as if someone had just been waiting for her to sit down.
She's pulled from her cell by two figures in black cloaks, faces hidden behind ornate masks. Each one grabs an arm, and pulls her along with them.
They practically drag her through the corridors lined with framed faces, their frames far more ostentatious than anything she'd ever seen in her city. They reach out to her, screaming in a language she recognises — one her mother had barely begun to teach her — their hands seeming to claw at the glass in front of them.
Each has a plaque underneath, carefully inscribed with text the hooded figures don't let her stop long enough to read.
The last frame is empty, the glass reflecting her own face back at her, and the plaque has been left blank.
.oOo.
[during]
She is taken from her cells some time later, though Tonks can't be sure how much time that is. Once, she would have been able to respond down to the very second. Delacour is getting much the same treatment, two cells over, but Tonks can't see anyone else being removed. She suspects Delacour is intended to take her place.
The hooded figures do not touch them, merely walk alongside as they are led through twisting corridors in a familiar route.
They stop for a moment, and Tonks knows it is on purpose when she catches sight of the framed face on her left. A little girl, possibly six or seven — maybe a little older, Tonks can no longer remember — stares at her with sad eyes.
Unlike the other portraits, she isn't trying to reach for them, crying out in that same language Tonks has never been able to fully learn — has never remembered she should learn.
Silent tears fall down the girl's cheeks, and when she stares at Tonks it's like looking in a mirror and seeing her past.
Even before reading the name underneath — Nymphadora A. One K.S — she knows that is exactly what she is doing."
Tonks frowns, her own unease momentarily forgotten, and glances back down the corridor.
None of the frames had been empty.
.oOo.
[before]
She's left squinting as they pull her through a heavy set of double doors into an open courtyard, caught off guard by the sun after so long spent inside a cell.
She must make a noise, must cry out in some way, because one of the hooded figures shakes her and hisses, "You don't want to wind up like your mother, do you?"
And she screams — fear and loss and the wrongness of all this mixing together inside her, and she needs some way to let it out or she feels like she'll explode.
"What did you do that for?" the other yells over her, but he's talking to his companion. "You didn't need to tell her that!"
Her legs give out under her, but she's held up by the grip they still have on her arms.
"Fuck," the second one hisses. "Let's just get this over with." And, with that, she is unceremoniously thrown into the centre of the courtyard, hitting the ground hard enough to end her scream.
"Thank fuck," the first says. "Was beginning to think we should've let the centaurs get to her, too."
"What is wrong with you?" the second asks. "We need her to —"
Everything goes deafeningly silent, but when she looks up she can see through tear-clouded vision that they are still talking to each other.
And then even they begin to fade, and a faint buzzing sounds, getting louder with each passing second until she thinks she actually is going deaf. It feels like her ears are bleeding, like blood is pouring from her mouth, eyes, nose, as if her brain is expanding and trying to force itself out of her skull.
She can't tune out the pain, can't ignore how it feels like she is being torn apart from the inside, like she's becoming too big for her body to contain.
And then it stops.
So abruptly that she is left reeling, feeling as though she can't stand, and everything is disorienting, as if she's out of sync with the rest of the world.
When she finally comes back to herself, however long that takes, she is not only herself, but multiple versions of her all spread out across the courtyard. Different aspects of her all separated out, blinking at each other in unison.
All her bodies are the same and, though she does not know how, she knows that can easily be changed. Will be changed.
A figure steps forward, cloaked not in black but grey, and says a single word — "Nymphadora." She turns to the sound of her name, awaiting instruction.
.oOo.
[after]
"It's a shame, really," the grey-cloaked figure says. The others, all cloaked in black remain silent, and keep their distance. The two bodies lying at his feet are unmoving, each surrounded by a pool of silver blood. "Her decay wasn't unexpected, but so quickly …" He frowns. "The others all lasted longer."
"Maybe — maybe, sh-she was reminded of something? Something from when she was alive?" one of the black-cloaked figures stutters. The grey-cloaked figure doesn't look up.
"Her mother was strong," he says, ignoring the comment. "Would have been excellent, had she survived the centaurs." There is something akin to admiration in his voice when he adds, "Though she did take out three of them."
With a sigh, he moves to stand over the second body.
"The new one might have been useful," he says, genuine remorse lacing his tone, "if we'd found her a few years earlier." He sighs again, the sound almost wistful. "When her mind was still flexible enough to make the necessary changes. I think we could have done excellent things with this one."
Another of the black-cloaked figures coughs quietly, and gestures at the second body. "Doesn't she have a sister?"
Prompts:
Hunger Games — HPFC: [word] Unexpected, [emotion] Jealousy, [character] Percy Weasley, [setting] The Forbidden Forest, [weapon] Axe
Friendship Bracelets — Camp Potter: [word] Mist, [colour] Silver, [pairing] Tonks/Nymphadora
Tie Dye — Camp Potter: [word] Daydream, [object] Picture Frame, [dialogue] "Don't go in there."
Thank you for reading :D