At Sixes and Sevens

A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories

COPYRIGHT NOTE: I don't own Xenosaga

COMMENTS: This story takes place during the U.R.T.V.s' childhoods, pre-Miltian Conflict, and also during the early years when U-TIC was still a mystery to the rest of the world. After all, nobody seemed to know U-TIC = Ormus until the present day in Episode II. This chapter will also dig into Xeno-style religious symbolism/elements, so feel free to consider everything a "what-if?"

6&7#6: "Six Six Six" | Genre: Adventure/Drama | Rated: T for mild language, mild violence, & religious references. This story is pure fiction and no religious offense was intended.

Six Six Six
Aiselne Nocturnus

Those idiots had really done it this time. But as the saying goes, he who plays with fire inevitably gets burned. Just because he happens to be a devout follower of his god does not make him an exception to that rule, either. And if God does not play favorites, damn certain the Devil does not, either.

Thus the fire indiscriminately burned, devouring the once-proud U-TIC stronghold that better resembled a once-sacred chapel of a bygone religion. Some soldiers prayed to the nameless, crumbling statues, but most fled to the hangar, foolishly fighting each other over the remaining operational A.G.W.S. Martyrdom always sounded romantic until the day of reckoning finally arrived.

So weak, all of them—the brave men of U-TIC mere sissies compared to the children they fought.

But to be fair, Albedo no longer felt overly fearless, himself. Neither did Nigredo. This fiery battle had long since gone to hell, and now it was every soldier for themselves—adult and child alike. And the Variants would have fallen back by now, had they not been missing their leader.

"We can't wait around forever!" Citrine shouted over the umpteenth explosion, gripping the vibrating railing of the U.R.T.V.s' shuttle. Of the sixty bioweapons deployed on this mission only thirteen were lost, most when the citadel began disintegrating. U-TIC's casualties were far more devastating. Nevertheless, the girl was not about to lose any more comrades…especially on account of her Variant brothers' dawdling. Their ship was boarded, loaded, and ready for takeoff anytime, and time was of the essence when docked inside a floundering fortress. "Are you leaving with us or not, Nigredo?"

Albedo noticed his exclusion from Citrine's question, but he was much more appalled by his sister's cold-hearted insinuation. "Are you actually suggesting we leave Rubedo behind?!" he screamed back, fury reddening his wide-eyed face. All that stood between his palm and Citrine's face was Nigredo's restraints, but they did not silence Albedo's mouth. "You heartless bitch! How'd you feel if we left you behind?!"

"If it preserved the integrity of my mission then I'd proudly lay down my life," Citrine countered matter-of-factly, not the least bit bothered by Albedo's insult. It was hardly the first time she was labeled so callously by people who had not the foggiest idea of the responsibilities she carried. "I am not about to jeopardize a shuttle full of U.R.T.V.s just for one kid who's supposed to be the leader!"

His sister's ideology fell on deaf ears. Albedo would sacrifice an entire planet for Rubedo's sake. Of course, he did not expect Citrine—or anyone, for that matter—to understand, so what point was there in arguing? A nearby steeple had collapsed, gagging the children inside a cloud of debris. It would not be long before the entire floating structure leveled itself.

After painfully wrenching himself out of Nigredo's hold Albedo made a beeline for the nearest corridor, ignoring his youngest brother's hollers. So what if Citrine left without him? There was consolation in knowing Albedo would be there for Rubedo's death.

Nigredo knew exactly what his white-haired brother was thinking, too, and it terrified him. All he could imagine was Albedo holding onto Rubedo forever—together in their final moments, and countless years later, the undying U.R.T.V. never letting go of his other half's corpse…

"Ten minutes," Nigredo told Citrine, leaving no room for argument. He understood, even admired his sister's conviction, but she did not share the same bond with Rubedo and Albedo, either. "If they're not back by then, leave us."

"Us," as in leave me behind with them, Citrine knew, shaking her head in disgust. Love was not blind, it was blinding, and it made people act incredibly stupid. Why Dmitri allowed his Variants to possess emotions, unlike the unfeeling standard U.R.T.V.s, Citrine would never know. She decided never to be swayed by emotions.

For those reasons, she also decided to keep her mouth shut regarding the perfect opportunity, win-win situation her baby brother was moronically forgoing; the Red Dragon dying here and now, in the rubble, without the need to be slain by the Executioner. Citrine knew Nigredo was not a coward, but still…it would have saved his heart a little guilt.

"You're all fools, Nigredo."

Blood pounded in Albedo's ears, barely muting the booming destruction into which he ran face-first. Such recklessness was typically Rubedo's doing, not his timid twin's, but Albedo could not afford to become frozen by fear. And it was not himself for which he was afraid…

"Rubedo!"

His cry came out as an echoed gasp upon finding the link master in a foyer; circular, like a clock, ornamented with exactly twelve cracked statues at each hour, encompassing its center where a thirteenth idol overlooked the main altar. A fresh bloodstain obscured the engraving –RIENKIND, smeared against the sagging corpse of a robed old man. Why an organization like U-TIC employed such a surprising number of priests—not to mention hole up in holy sanctuaries—was beyond Albedo's understanding, but apparently faith protected its devout only so much. The boy did not fathom religion, but he did know what it felt like to worship something, or someone.

Even when that someone was encompassed by undulating waves of crimson; the color of the fire gradually consuming the hall; the color of his hair…and currently the color of his infuriated eyes.

"Bastard' kept shooting his mouth off," Rubedo snarled, knowing Albedo was near but choosing to keep his glare on the dead chaplain. The U.R.T.V. leader's body rippled with red, translucent tendons that intensified with each word. "He wouldn't shut up about how he was some sorta' 'chosen one'…hell, how all of U-TIC was 'chosen' by their god to find some holy land. Jeez, I knew U-TIC was made up of a bunch'a nutjobs but this takes the cake."

There was no argument from Albedo. "Do you think it has anything to do with the Zohar?" It was so easy to forget their objective amidst the commotion and demolition.

Rubedo shrugged, the first movement he made since his twin arrived. The casual maneuver looked anything but when wrapped in menacing red ether. "Who knows? The Federation ordered us to investigate a criminal organization, not religious."

The Federation also did not order the U.R.T.V.s to destroy the place, either, but Albedo held his tongue. He would always defend his twin, but even looking at the situation objectively, Albedo could not blame Rubedo entirely for the mission's catastrophe.

"I told him to shut up," recalled Rubedo, still shooting daggers at the carcass. The boy's fists clenched as his voice darkened. "I don't care what the excuse is, God or otherwise, that doesn't justify what U-TIC's done. Just because you're 'chosen' doesn't mean it's okay to screw anyone who isn't. If God does exist I sure hope He's got enough conscience to be disgusted by what these holy rollers are doing in His name."

Perhaps the children were not in a position to discuss, never mind criticize, faith, but Albedo liked to think there was some degree of rationalism in his brother's rant. Unfortunately, the now-dead priest had not shared such sentiments.

"Then the son of a bitch started in on how we are 'sacrileges,'" Rubedo continued to sarcastically lament, tipping further over the edge. "I told him to shut up again but he just kept goin' on and on. How only God can create life, and it's a big no-no for people to scientifically emulate it. Just cause' I was born in a test tube doesn't make me any less human, dammit!"

Rubedo's words would have held greater strength had he sounded like he truly believed them. But it was the same dilemma for all Designer Children. None were conceived through the fairytale romance of a man and woman falling in love. All clones had a "father" and a "mother," but only regarding the sperm and egg donors. A genetically-engineered child was considered lucky to personally know one of their parents, although "lucky" was a pretty far-fetched feeling Rubedo felt for Dr. Yuriev.

"If God's supposed to love everybody unconditionally, then shouldn't that negate the need for 'chosen ones,' anyway? What the hell difference does it make how I was born? It's not as though Dad ran around impregnating hundreds of women! You mean to tell me God would consider that a more acceptable practice?!"

The very idea nauseated Albedo, but he may have laughed if Rubedo's body was not growing redder and redder by the second. Not to mention the flames around them growing bigger and hotter. Now was not exactly an ideal time for the link master's absentminded rant. But like the sermonizing priest once had, Rubedo went on and on.

"After that the guy went batshit, chanting prayers and flinging holy water in my direction. It was like he saw a ghost, or…" Rubedo trailed, lowering his eyes towards his hands. The left hand held a forgotten pistol, whilst the other palm was naked, save for the U.R.T.V.'s red tattoo. Rubedo felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. "No, he must've seen my serial number."

Of all the things for a religious zealot to see. In the eyes of a priest, a cloned child already had enough strikes against him to be awarded eternal damnation. But to have the number 666 carved into his right palm…

Rubedo reclosed his fist and scrunched his eyes shut, hiding the truth inside and hiding from the ruins outside. "I'm not a monster."

Yet the leader continued to glow scarlet. To others the sight would have appeared diabolic—it was no small wonder why U-TIC's fanatical priest freaked out—but Albedo found Rubedo's blaze undeniably beautiful. Stepping closer into the glow, Albedo felt heat but no pain. At least, not his own. Psychic waves tended to carry ripples of thought and emotion, the Dragon inside feeding off its host's emotional turmoil. Albedo had a bevy of self-insecurities of his own, so he knew how agonizing it felt to be at their mercies.

Close enough to place a hand on his twin's vibrating shoulder, Albedo gently spoke. "It's okay, Rubedo."

"The hell it is! Look at me!" blasted Rubedo, quite literally. Carmine waves erupted from the boy, almost knocking Albedo backwards. Somewhere in the background two statues toppled into each other like tackling football players. The Red Dragon's ether was fluctuating, bouncing off walls erratically, some blows gentle as a breeze and others strong enough to ignite rows of pews. Emotional instability aside, Rubedo's subpar control of his powers did not improve the situation. "The last thing I wanna' do is prove that jackass right, b-but…"

They were the epicenter of the whirling, blazing destruction. It was hardly the appropriate place for Albedo to hug his brother but he did just that, wrapping his arms around his other half's trembling frame. Despite the fires Rubedo shivered as though he were encased in ice, the fear so crippling he could not bring himself to return his twin's embrace. The leader expelled all of his capacities just to stay in control of himself, and look how well that worked out.

"It doesn't matter what that old geezer thought," Albedo whispered in Rubedo's ear, gently combing a hand through the redhead's locks. He could feel his brother's muscles ease, albeit minutely. "We can't change a person's beliefs anymore than we can change how we were born. Maybe we are sacrileges and maybe God can't love us," he paused to kiss Rubedo's forehead, wanting to kiss elsewhere and imagining how the priest may have reacted at seeing blood brothers behave that way. "But that's exactly why we need each other to survive."

It took some time, but eventually the Dragon's rage receded and Rubedo's body relaxed in Albedo's arms. Or more accurately, the older twin's body collapsed into Albedo's arms, the unleashing of energy always taxing on Rubedo's body. But by then Rubedo regained enough of himself to grapple onto his sibling's shoulders. It was a rare sight indeed whenever the proud, self-sufficient U.R.T.V. link master needed to lean on someone else for support.

When Nigredo finally showed up he figured the eldest Variant was injured and offered to help carry Rubedo. Two escorts were better than one, even if Albedo was not the biggest fan of sharing. U-TIC's building was on its last legs, after all. The chapel collapsed inside itself, entombing the mad priest, and would have trapped the U.R.T.V.s if they had not rushed to the shuttle.

Citrine waved manically for the boys to hurry, seizing their collars and dragging them aboard just as the ground gave way. The launching was rocky, violent, and rewarded every passenger with a mixed variety of gashes and bruises, but when the dust settled the kids released the breaths they had held.

After using her headband to wrap a particularly nasty tear in Nigredo's shoulder, Citrine then stomped over to the bench were the Variant twins recuperated. She wanted to read the boys the riot act—what the hell took them so long? Why did the fortress suddenly go up in flames? Where the brats not aware that their foot-dragging nearly cost them the entire mission, let alone their lives?! But she preferred to leave those honors for their father.

For now, there was only one thing Citrine needed to know. "Did you find the stronghold's leader, Commander Abraham?"

Albedo warily eyed Rubedo, knowing Citrine was inquiring about a touchy subject. But whatever rage Rubedo felt had long since expired. Exhausted as he was, the link master gave his report. "Yeah, but my guess is he was called 'Father' Abraham. The man was a priest, not a soldier like we figured he'd be. The whole facility was built like one big church. Why? I have no idea. If this is U-TIC's way of strengthening, they're using the wrong ammunition. Religion doesn't hold the same power like it used to during the Lost Jerusalem era."

People once initiated wars due to religious beliefs, something the Galaxy Federation did away with during more peaceful times. Not so say religion was obsolete, but it was no longer something governments, armies, or terrorists could use to fuel violence. Or so everyone thought.

Citrine wondered herself. "Did he know anything about the Zohar?"

"He didn't seem to," which Rubedo knew was not a suitable answer. "But he sure knew about us."

"That's not good," frowned his sister, folding her arms. "We're the Federation's trump card. The less U-TIC knows about us, the better."

The situation was growing more desperate. U-TIC somehow achieved possession of the Zohar, though its whereabouts were still unknown. As to what U-TIC wanted, and was doing, with the Zohar, it was the U.R.T.V.s' job to find out—and stop it. Tonight's mission was hardly a job well done. One small consolation was the other U.R.T.V. recon division's discrediting the presence of the Zohar at that specific base, but that also meant their Zohar hunt was going back to the drawing board.

"Where is Abraham now? Did he escape or go down with the ship?" asked Citrine, hoping for the former possibility but expecting the latter. She could care less about the man's life, but a lost or dead body could not be interrogated, either.

"He's gone, but it was a dead-end, anyway," Rubedo answered knowingly, curtly, hoping to end the conversation before Citrine asked the inevitable question of how Abraham died. The U.R.T.V.'s gun was still cold, but the Dragon's fire still simmered. And that made Rubedo feel even worse. "There was no getting through to that guy. We've got better people to risk our lives for."

That was not necessarily Rubedo's decision to make, but Citrine could tell across the U.R.T.V.s' mental link that her brother was not lying, either. Whatever was exchanged between Rubedo and Abraham, it obviously was not worth the effort. Later, Dmitri would get the details, but for now Citrine and the rest of her crew needed their rest. U.R.T.V.s were no good to anyone half-dead.

With the pressure off from his sister Rubedo finally relaxed, resting his head on Albedo's shoulder. The younger twin's hand covered his clenched fist, squeezing it reassuringly. Indeed, there were much better people for whom Rubedo preferred to risk his life. There were people who needed him and appreciated him, regardless of what he was or how he came to into being. That was what mattered.

"The mark of the Beast! You bear the Dragon's number! Devil wearing the skin of an innocent child! You fool nobody! The day will come when God himself will rid the world of such evil abominations! Monsters, all of you! MONSTERS! Burn everything in your wake, but it is you who will be left with nothing in the end! NOTHING!"

The dead lunatic's words still haunted the back of Rubedo's mind, but their bite lessened with time. As he listened to Albedo's echoing heartbeats, Rubedo realized that even if the whole world eventually turned its back on him, at least one person would never stop loving him.

Fin