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Warning
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Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: "Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? [...] Shall the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? He who rebukes God, let him answer it."
"Come here, Kryssy," Caenda cooed. "Here, I've got your favorite—peanut butter." She waved the treat.
In response there was a snort and scuffling sound as Krystal burrowed deeper behind the sofa. She clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
Caenda peered at the fox with a careful eye. Krystal had jammed herself towards the rear where the sofa met the corner of the bulkhead, and was huddled down, her yellowish-green eyes almost gleaming in the semidarkness back at her. It was impossible to grab at her from above, and no amount of shoving would get the sofa to move—the furniture was sealed to the floor, and was made out of lightweight material that resembled wood but stronger than steel. She was quite safe in her little fort.
This was not going to be easy. It was too late to use treats as a bribe—Krystal never fell for the same trick twice—and unfortunately Caenda had accidentally left the cage door open when she had gone to get her. Krystal took the opportunity to dash out of there, slipping between the halfling's arms like a fish, and out into the hall. A mad chase down several winding halls, an elevator, and several rooms later had led to Krystal being trapped inside the Hanson suite, behind the sofa. The Hansons were nowhere to be found, as it was that time of the week for everyone—all 1054 of them—to attend Uncle Cadfael's religious services.
There were so many people that Uncle Cadfael had divided everyone into five groups and assigned his deacons to them, all in their own separate rooms so services wouldn't interrupt one another. (According to James this is what he had done back as chaplain for the massive, out-of-the-way prison facility, as it meant everyone was served.) Naturally, this meant Raye and Miyu attended his service and not another smaller group's. Caenda had therefore made her escape as soon as she could—and had to wait for a long time until mother's eyes had stopped roving from between Uncle and her, and father had fallen asleep (all the better that he started to snore).
As quickly as she could manage, Caenda dodged the ushers and raced back to the Belial suite just as Uncle started thundering into one of his long, boring, and loud sermons. Her goal was simple, at least in conception. Sneak up on Krystal, grab her, and then somehow smuggle her back into the service without either Raye or Miyu noticing she had vanished.
In practice it was anything but.
Krystal had somehow been alerted the moment the door slid open. Even though she had lain there peacefully, looking to be sleeping without a care in the world as Caenda hurried into the kitchen for the treat, her ears tracked the halfling's movements. She bade her time as Caenda knelt down to unlock the cage door—and then, bam, was gone in a flash.
In retrospect it wasn't a very good idea. Caenda's mind was thinking of a few other alternate plans she could have tried, like draping a blanket over the cage to muffle the sound or opening the door and pouncing on her as she raced out instead of trying to crawl in like the silly girl she had been. Now she had Krystal right where she wanted her, except that she was too big to squeeze in there herself, and if there was one thing she had retained from her father's war stories it was to never ever get someone who feared your very existence stuck in a corner with no escape.
"Come on," she whispered, shaking the treat more enticingly. "I've got two more where that came from."
The fox didn't respond.
"Kryssy, please come on." Caenda switched tactics. "I've only got so long before they notice I'm gone. Don't make me go in there and get you. You won't like it if I do." Again Krystal didn't answer.
"Fine, have it your way."
Caenda stood and walked off—actually walked out of the suite, though not before leaving the treat on the ground before the entrance and leaving the rest placed at intervals between the sofa and door. She knew it would take a while before the fox came out of there, so great was her fear of her. Time to play the waiting game.
The halls that made up the passengers' level were wide, presumably for the moving of cargo around from before it was modified as living quarters. It was the only thing that made sense, since she knew that space on a starship was always at a premium no matter how advanced its technology was. Cornering Krystal out here would be impossible, even if she did manage to get her trapped between one of those peculiar triangular "half-walls" that protruded between the bulkheads, the deck, and the overhead. She could also smell her too. Time to play sneaky.
She retreated a goodly way down the hall and ducked into another suite, the door sliding open without any noise. She darted into the bathing chamber, divested her clothing, and took a quick wash, using one of the scentless soaps to get her own smell out of her. A shame she couldn't do the same with the clothing. By the time she was ready Caenda could hear a snuffling sound—yep, that was Krystal, making contented noises as she munched on her treats.
Peering through the open door Caenda caught sight of the fox's back as she trudged down the hall, moving warily but almost without any speed. From the way her head was moving she was working her mouth furiously, trying to get her food down. A smile crossed Caenda's face. Kryssy got greedy, was the thought. Tip-toeing exaggeratedly she stealthily made her way to the unsuspecting fox, her arms thrown out to keep her balance as she moved on her toes (she'd left her shoes behind in the shower, she'd get them later).
She froze as Krystal stopped. Holding her breath Caenda watched as Krystal gulped and swallowed, trying to get the peanut butter mass down. After a time she started moving again, and so did Caenda. Each time she stopped so did she—and each time it happened did Caenda get a little closer.
Finally she was so close she could almost touch the fox's little brown tail. But… patience first! One wrong step could mess up everything.
She tensed, waiting for Krystal to start moving again as she busily worked on licking the remnants from her teeth. Then she did, having gotten the last of the butter, and was on her way back to her cage and some well-deserved sleep.
"Gotcha!" she crowed.
Krystal's legs immediately started to skedaddle—but Caenda launched herself and landed atop her. All at once she was met with a tangle of snarling fox and snapping teeth. She grit her own teeth as she fought to pin the animal's legs together. It wasn't easy, Krystal weighed nearly fourteen kilograms and was hellbent on escaping, but Caenda managed to get her arms under her.
"All righty, you're coming with me whether you want to or not," she said with determination, forcing herself to stand. Krystal immediately tried to unbalance her by shifting her body this way and that, but Caenda was used to her tricks by now, and compensated. Before she could get any more emboldened Caenda had set off at a rapid pace, hurrying down the hall the same direction Krystal had been going. In no time she had reached the elevator (Krystal was currently attempting to try and bite at her hair so Caenda was forced to shove her head between her arm and body) and the door slid open. God bless those VI having grown used to her exploring. As she walked in she said, "Deck III."
"Acknowledged, Caenda Alissa Belial."
She groaned. "C'mon, I told you I don't like that. Just use my first name, please."
"That is not in my programming."
"Ugh, you are impossible."
"Thank you."
The door opened almost as soon as it had closed, onto another hall—and this one was different, for instead of disappearing into what seemed like infinity and full of recessed entrances, it was bare of all except for an empty wall just twenty meters away. Caenda set off, moving as fast as she could for Krystal wasn't giving her any relief.
The wall split apart for her, just like the elevator, each half sinking into the bulkhead noiselessly, and she stepped into the compartment. Here was where the conflicting statements of "space is precious" and "screw the rules" became extremely apparent: if this were any other building, one would assume this room was half the size of a cathedral, and out of place on any self-respecting starship. Of course Caenda knew that before they had co-opted it this compartment had been a storage unit for bulk cargo. Now it served a different purpose. Its lights were on and the noise level was, thankfully, not very loud.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She'd timed it right after all—in fact, was a little early. By leaving at the start of Uncle's sermon, to account for Kryssy's behavior, she figured she would arrive toward the tail end of all of those pre-Communion blessings and recitations. And that was exactly what happened.
"Ahem."
The low voice was commanding enough to carry over the priest's chanting but not as to distract anyone else. Lucas was one of father's snake buddies, she remembered, and had always overlooked him because he was so quiet compared to his friends. He was tall enough to attract attention in his own right—though not as tall as father was.
He gestured toward the fox in her arms. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you with your parents?"
"I'm here to get Kryssy blessed," she answered with defiance.
"Why here?"
"Because I know Timothy would approve of it. Please," she added. "Kryssy doesn't really like anybody else except Timothy." As if to reinforce the point Krystal growled at the usher, momentarily forgetting her struggle.
"All right. Be quick or you won't be able to get there in time." He'd hardly finished his sentence before Caenda was halfway down the aisle. Lucas shook his head and moved up to carry out his duties.
She took a position on the leftmost rail, choosing to stand rather than kneel (and while she could now see over the railing Krystal's struggles made that very unwise), and began to wait. Her attention was bound with keeping Krystal from slipping loose but she had more than enough to spare in keeping an eye out for Timothy. Caenda heard a chuckle and she looked over to where the acolyte kneeled—it was Raynor, the only child with a sauroid for a dad, and he looked like he was having the time of his life watching her. She grinned back at him, sympathizing with his plight. Of all of her friends only James had any patience for this sort of repetitive thing, and he was with Uncle.
Timothy moved down the line, dispensing little wafers to the adults and blessings upon the children. Behind him moved a leonine man who held a silvered goblet; he murmured a separate blessing as the adults took a sip each. Caenda had heard them all before and their incantations were almost meaningless—until now. She waited with anticipation instead of resignation, partly due to Krystal keeping her preoccupied. Finally she heard Timothy to her right, his voice low yet gentle, and when he moved over to her Caenda, with difficulty, lifted up Krystal.
The fox, like any other time she was in the presence of an adult, instantly stopped her struggles and wilted. It was especially funny since Caenda was holding her up by the base of her forelimbs, like a disgruntled teddy bear.
There was a sigh. Caenda only smiled with feigned innocence. Timothy looked so disappointed as he stared at her, his features wavering between amusement and disapproval. If it weren't for them being in the middle of the service—especially the most important part, no matter how thunderous Uncle's sermons could be—he would have asked her something like "What are you doing here and why aren't you with your parents?" and not necessarily in that order. Paul, the leonine fellow, halted and peered at her with something akin to puzzlement rather than the mixed emotions of Timothy. Raynor, meanwhile, was doing all he could to not break out into open laughter behind their backs. Even the congregation around them were showing smiles.
Timothy reached out and put his palm onto Krystal's head. He said, "Under God's gracious mercy, and protection, we commit thee, amen." He repeated the blessing onto Caenda, and moved to the next person. Paul only nodded but followed after; blessings for children did not warrant a second benediction.
Caenda breathed a sigh of relief. She half-feared Timothy would send her away for disrupting everything, but he had taken it in stride. She lowered an unresponsive Krystal (why did she always go catatonic when touched by someone other than herself, Raye, or Miyu?) and sank onto the kneeler cushions as her own legs gave up from the strain of holding her.
"Amen," Timothy repeated, moving down the line again. That was the signal for the current congregants to give up their place for the next group in line. She followed suit, moving out of view as quickly as she had entered, her mission down. At least this little venture had done one good thing—Krystal was no longer fighting her.
Lucas caught her eye as she passed him. He was standing toward the rear of the makeshift church, making sure people returned to their seats smoothly and letting others go up whenever Timothy signaled. He was smiling, and so were the two families who were getting ready to go up (the little cub and her human brother were prancing about in place), but let her pass without incident.
She exited the compartment and re-entered the elevator. When the doors opened again, the annoying VI pronouncing her full name without correction, Caenda lowered Krystal down and released her. Immediately she recovered her wits and streaked away, a little brown blur. Caenda shook her head and followed after. If she were quick, there may yet be a chance she could return unnoticed, however slim it could be. (She did retrieve her shoes.)
The commons was naturally jam-packed, all of the chairs in rows and the tables pushed back against the bulkheads. Over against the far bulkhead opposite the door she'd entered was a makeshift altar (put together by the simple expedient of throwing a white cloth over a table and setting a small cross and candles upon it) and the railing where everyone was going for the Communion. She looked around, zeroing in on her parents' seat, and breathed another sigh. They hadn't gone up yet—her mother looked like she hadn't moved since Uncle's sermon and father was still slumped over.
Brushing past some people standing in the back, whispering apologies as she threaded through their legs, Caenda made her way over while trying not to attract attention to herself. This was accomplished by not going through the center aisle. On her way she kept an eye on the altar and the area called the "chancel", whatever that meant, through the rows of people. Uncle looked somewhat ridiculous in those huge white robes of his as he moved down the line. James was unlike Raynor, kneeling and staring straight ahead instead of fidgeting. No, not staring straight ahead, she corrected herself, his eyes flickered from person to person, analyzing their movement and expression. It was a good thing she was so far away or he would have seen her.
Reaching her parents' row she made some noise as she slipped past bemused anthropoi (she distinctly heard a woman exclaim, "Dear God, aren't you ever still, Caenda?") until she had reached Raye. Sure enough he still looked like he was asleep, his military training keeping him upright and seemingly attentive looking, but she could see his eyes, while lidded, were still moving. So not entirely asleep, just drowsing. He wasn't the person to watch for, though. Her mother likewise was ramrod straight, her attention riveted towards the front, but as Caenda had learned many times before in the past that level of attention was illusionary. She could easily notice her without losing a single iota of what was going on elsewhere.
Once she'd reached them Caenda slowed down and started moving with the grace of a cat, made somewhat difficult by the couple sitting between her and them. They fortunately were amused enough by her antics to not blow her game. Raye hardly stirred as she clambered over him, but her mother could ruin it at any moment. But today was her lucky break, she made it back into her seat and had composed herself just before the usher gestured them forward.
Up at the railing Caenda mimicked the motion made by some when they didn't want Communion, and crossed her arms. Uncle looked momentarily confused by this when he reached them, but passed her over, attending to Raye first then Miyu, and moved on. In no time the service was over—there followed a general confession, and a hymn, and finally Cadfael said the final blessing.
The orderly, reverent crowd very quickly erupted into conversation and movement as they dismantled the church. The tables were returned to their places, the chairs arrayed around them, and Cadfael was assisted as the altar was taken apart, the cross and candles disappearing into a bag. Caenda helped in the organized chaos, moving around furniture until the commons resembled its old self.
She skipped happily back to the hall, hoping to meet up with James later, when a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Young lady, is there a reason why you disappeared in the middle of the service?"
Caenda gulped. "Um… yes, daddy—?" she began.
"It had better be a good one or you are grounded, again. Keep it up and it'll extend to our new home," Raye said sternly. "Now what was it?" He moved to kneel before her, his features radiating disappointment.
"Uh… um… I… uh…"
"I don't have all day."
Caenda swallowed again. "I went to get Kryssy," she mumbled. "She's always alone back there, and I wanted her to be part of this."
"Care to repeat that? I didn't quite catch all of that." Raye had, of course, heard everything she'd said. This was the part she hated—why wasn't he more like mother?
She repeated herself, much louder this time.
"And where did you take her?"
"To—To Timothy's service."
"What for?"
"So he could bless her."
Raye didn't show any visible emotion, but Caenda was enough of his daughter that she could sense his momentary confusion. "And why would you want to do that?" he asked more gently.
"Because she was lonely and scared. I wanted to do something nice for her for a change," she mumbled again. This time he didn't ask her to repeat it.
"Then in the future ask me or your mother first and we'll bring her along."
"Can we go to Timothy?"
"I'm sure we can work something out." He kissed her on the forehead. "Thank you for being honest. Now go and play with your friends."
"Thanks, daddy!" She stepped back and hurried off, relieved that he wasn't going to punish her. She liked that about him, he was always more lenient than mother was. He was a good daddy.
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Raye watched his daughter disappear, mentally shaking his head as he contemplated the future. Already he could see in his mind's eye that, when she had grown up, any future boyfriends of hers would be confused and bemused, and not necessarily in that order. She was so unlike Miyu, who was easy enough to get a bead on. One moment she was tormenting their pet, the next acting all loving and caring. If it weren't so amusing he would have stepped in earlier to sort things out.
Still smiling, he moved away to help out with the dismantling of the rows of chairs. But as he reached for an unattended chair, he very nearly ran someone over.
"Oh hey there," he said, catching himself just in time. "I was just about to help out."
"At least it'll be more than what you showed earlier." Morgana smiled with a knowing look, her hand trapped beneath his.
"Uh…" Raye carefully disengaged his grip and let her fold up the seat.
"You barely kept awake. I know Cadfael can be long winded at times, but really I would imagine you'd be used to that by now. You did train under him, did you not?"
"Oh, that, yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "Well, that was different—he'd have my head if I slipped up in training. Here, not as much."
"Maybe I should slip a word to Miyu, then."
"Oh God, please don't do that, I beg of you."
"Don't worry, I won't." Why was she smiling like that? She looked like one of those cheshires back home, eerie with that grin of theirs.
Raye quickly cast about for a topic to ease out of this awkward situation he had gotten himself into. "I liked your singing," he offered. "It's unlike anything I've heard before. What is it?"
"A traditional wedding song of Thaljista," she answered promptly. "It promotes health, wellness, and long life for the newlyweds. I figured it was only natural to use it during Communion."
"Thaljista?"
"My home planet. It's not really a place you'd know. It's out-of-the-way, not too politically important to the Federation, and has no major industry to attract your Dynasty."
"That wasn't what I meant," he said. "I've heard of it before, but it was just a name to me. I thought it was a system."
"No, that's the Diaspora system. Thaljista is the eldest of the inhabited worlds, and used to be independent long before the Federation showed up. We've a long and proud history."
"Well, consider me enlightened."
"Before you go," she put out a hand to stop him, "there's something I want to say."
Raye nodded, half-expecting what the subject would be. It had been barely two days since Cadfael's outburst and he had seen neither hair nor hide of any of the other Serpents except in official gatherings. Even Cadfael had been distant. Surprisingly, however, he had frequently run into Desmond and discovered the sauroid had an interest in exotic weaponry, a fascination Raye shared since one of his duties as a Serpent was to analyse alien weapons and figure them out, for one never knew when they needed to use one on the battlespace. Sauroid weapons, in particular, were an interesting bunch—
"I'm sorry about my husband's outburst. He is difficult at the best of times, and that only made things worse. It's not your fault, though, you didn't know. The others ought to have briefed you about it sooner, but, alas." She shrugged her shoulders. "Nonetheless I've given him a talking to, so if you ever find yourself straying near that subject you can speak without fear of your head popping off."
"I wasn't planning to," he answered, bemused that this was what she had decided on. "Really, it's no trouble. I respect him a lot and I won't go near his boundaries unless he says so."
"Well, you say that, but you don't really know him. He's not the same man you knew back in basic."
Raye shrugged. "All right, then, if you say so. I'll be careful around him from now on."
"That's a relief. On a related subject, why have you named your pet the way she is? I'm surprised he hadn't gone berserk earlier."
"Ask Miyu that, she picked out the name, and the beast too, not me."
"Hmm, that would explain a lot…"
"What do you mean?" Raye had a hunch he knew where this was going, and didn't like it.
Morgana swished her tail, a sign she was getting agitated, knuckles trembling on the chair. "It isn't a coincidence—I know what I saw. That Bitch," she spat out the word, "has done much to give you cause enough to hate us all, and Miyu's told me enough of your time with her that she bought that thing to vent her frustration on. And it just had to be a fox, too."
Raye had silently exhaled as she continued on blithely unaware of just how close to the truth she'd come to. Maybe letting Krystal keep her original name hadn't been such a good idea after all. He had argued with Miyu on that very subject before they went their separate ways, about how it would raise suspicions. Be still, my heart.
"—if you had seen what I'd seen, you'd know it too. Refusing to bathe her properly, keeping her in a f*# closet, letting Caenda chase her around, oh that woman is so going to be the death of me. I've tried to tell her, many times, that what she was doing was wrong, and it was doing everything possible to raise an enemy—that poor fox had done nothing—nothing—to deserve that amount of unmitigated hatred."
Morgana paused for breath and Raye seized his chance. "Listen, I've been making sure things haven't been spiraling out of control. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd have done things differently and she wouldn't hate that thing as much as she does—"
"So why haven't you? I'm telling you—" and here she jabbed a finger into his chest, "—it took my son to show your daughter that Krystal should be treated better, and yes I saw her sneak out of the service and I am betting you I know exactly where she went off too, and you continue to ignore—"
"I think I see Miyu over there," he said hastily. "I'd love to chat but I must go."
He quickly sped-walked away with her still ranting as he left her behind: "Make sure you tell her that her behavior is unacceptable and should never be emulated by her own daughter—!"
A gaggle of former parishioners surrounded her, talking excitedly, and after some struggling to follow after Raye, she gave up and retreated with them.
He breathed a sigh of relief. That was the last thing he wanted a conversation about. It would lead to too many awkward questions and threaten to blow it. It also made him realize they ought to come up with a suitable explanation that misdirected any suspicions before someone figured out the truth. This provided a good stepping stone, however inopportune it was. Why couldn't they have had some peace and quiet in their home first before this business started up?
Hmmm, perhaps not, he mused. Perhaps they had better take care of it now while the possibility of suspicion was low, rather than wait until there was absolutely no room for doubt. Raye suddenly remembered the Inquisitors, who had subjected everyone in the Dynastic chain of command and who knew how many common soldiers and support staff to their many and infinite questionings. Morgana was just the least of his worries next to them.
He breathed another sigh. This was getting ever more gnarly…
Looking about to distract himself from the inevitable, his gaze fell upon Pierce and Michael—who still sported a thick bandage about his healing skull—conversing over in a corner. No doubt engaged in some intense discussion, possibly related to matters philosophical or theological. The perfect distraction for his rattled wits, and an opportunity to think of a suitable set of excuses to go over with Miyu later. They still had a few days of travel left to plan, after all. So he migrated over them, trying to look as if he were only drifting about instead of with purpose, in the hopes that no one else would accost him—and he succeeded, too well, as both men ignored him.
Raye quietly listened. It seemed they were arguing about some of the finer points of Cadfael's sermon—Michael took the conservative approach of treating it as a culture far removed in time and space from their present, while Pierce was in the opposite camp.
From what Raye understood of their speech and remembered distantly from Cadfael's preaching it seemed their discussion centered over a particular parable, of a man and his two sons. The elder son was perfect in every way, according to the culture of the Holy Scripture, who respected his father and never gainsaid him. The younger son, however, was the opposite: wild, irresponsible, and a feckless fool, going so far as to demand his inheritance early and deprive his father of half his material wealth. The father, who loved his younger son, allowed him this wish and divided up the household. It was this sticking point that Michael was hotly arguing:
"… No man—no father—in their right mind would allow that ever. He knows how foolish the boy is and he willingly enables his self-destruction. Of course he would have known the boy would go and spend it all on whores and parties—"
"If you think that's the whole point of the parable, you are sadly mistaken," Pierce retorted. "It's not a commentary on how ancient cultures are more permissive than we are. For heaven's sake, if old Ezekiel, God rest his soul, applied the lessons in the parable to his own life perhaps half the war would not have ended in such a disastrous state—"
"It's definitely not his fault, it's that Bitch's fault, she's the one who pushed his hand; and anyway, he only had the one daughter, a woman as dangerous as he is! Do you think she would have been as permissive with her own sons?"
Oh, you have no idea, Raye thought with a repressed smile. He remembered Jessica back in the old days, through his brother's fond memories of her.
The first incarnation of the Serpent Project had ended in failure due to lack of funding and the Avowers of Knowledge's defection to the Brotherhood during the Final Coup. The half-dozen Raye Belial clone children had been released to fend for themselves—their own genetic template, as charismatic as he was to the public, was not a father, could never have been. It was perhaps due to sheer luck that Jessica had taken the boys under her wing and raised them as if they were her own flesh and blood; and, in a sense, they were, for she loved an unreachable man, whose only love was the newborn Dynasty. It was through her they had survived to adulthood and were waiting and willing to be ready commanders in the war against the Federation.
"That's not my point, and you know it. Did you even listen to the parable?" Pierce was growing more indignant by the sentence, a sure sign that whatever ground he had gained in the argument was eroding away from him.
"How could I not?" Michael replied. "Cadfael's such a droner I barely kept from falling asleep. If that is the example Jesus set out—"
"Then you know absolutely nothing of what Jesus set out to do! I'm telling you, it's all laid out right there—oh, hello, Raye."
Well, that was that, no more hiding. "Hello, Pierce, Michael, what's going on?"
Michael answered him. "A spirited discussion on whether or not the Patriarch in Jesus' parable was a fool for enabling a boy who abused his own father's trust in him."
Raye smiled, but sternly stared down Pierce, who had inflated at those words. Reluctantly the Major bit back his counterargument. "It seems to me that it's more of 'let's let them rise or fall according to their folly', isn't it?" he asked.
Michael waved his hand, dismissing it. "Yeah, but, still, I find that damned odd of Jesus to use that to make a point—"
Oh boy, here we go again…
For the next hour and a half Raye embroiled himself in a subject he never would have willingly touched before. The Dynastic high command had discouraged introspection among Serpents—" Your duty is to the nation and her people," they would say, "not to useless fables." Yet in spite of this top-down approach it was inevitable that the Bible—or the Torah, or the few fragments of the Quran—had found its way into the hands of nearly every soldier in the military. It was rumored even Ezekiel kept one on his bedside table, reading through his namesake's epistle with a fervor that was eclipsed by the later madness. And Raye, too, had a Bible, translated into the German tongue that was almost uncrackable by Federal linguists. It had proven extremely reliable when he had been trapped with Miyu, being the only thing that worked when her translator failed from lack of power or parts. Her accent whenever she spoke to him had served to only endear her more and more.
Unfortunately, the Bible was just as alien to him as it was to her. Lacking Cadfael's theological training and expertise, he was often hopelessly lost when perusing its pages. It spoke of cultures he had never heard of before—the Jews were the only ones he recognized. Everything else was an unknown. What was an Egypt? Rome and Persia were only letters to him, and the seemingly meaningless genealogies of Das vierte Buch Mose were equally confusing. So it was a continual journey of discovery for him at each service he attended of Cadfael's, to learn that the principles that served as the root of the Dynasty were actually twisted and warped concepts of this… foreign religion.
In a way he envied Miyu and her seeming naivety when it came to this sort of thing. She had a wealth of similar experiences and concepts to draw upon, to reinforce her "newish" faith, while he had nothing but lies that had been once truths. Absolutely nothing in this Bible ever spoke of hatred or xenophobia—and when it did, it seemed to take especial care in pointing out how all who followed those precepts, Israelite or ethnos, ended up destroying themselves.
And often it was God who let them do it. That was Raye's biggest headache of all—if God was all-powerful and could create the universe, could he have not chosen more peaceful means to go about it? Were all the nations of the galaxy doomed to go the way of the Dynasty? to destroy themselves in cataclysmic self-annihilation and then be enslaved by Babylon? That was not justice, it was sociopathy.
Very quickly it seemed that it was Pierce all alone, on the defensive. He had given up attempting to argue about the merits of that particular parable and instead gleefully engaged in a wide-ranging debate about ethics and morality. Raye was skeptical of most things, not at all helped by his brother's violent past or his own genengineering, and Michael took pleasure in deconstructing all of the Major's halfhearted arguments. So absorbed they were in this discourse that it was some time before any of them noticed the elf patiently waiting beside them.
"Excuse me, Serpents," the elf interrupted when Michael took a pause to breathe. "My deepest apologies for the interruption, but Serpents Belial and Hardy are requested to join with the captain at once."
"Why?"
"I am not permitted to know. It is imperative you join him at once."
Raye looked at the other two; Pierce was still red in the face but starting to calm down, and Michael shrugged, already forgetting their discussion. "Off you go, sirs," Michael said, mock-saluting.
"I can understand why Raye's invited along, but why me?" Pierce asked. "Surely he's more priority?"
"I am not permitted to know," the elf repeated.
"Come off it, Pierce, buddy, you just want an excuse to continue the verbal duel." Raye smiled, his facial muscles unused to such a gesture after such a long while of frowning. "I did not know you had such a way with words—"
"I was required to learn much when I studied to be a medical officer." Pierce answered. "So excuse me if I had outmaneuvered you—"
"If you please, sirs ?" The stress on the final word was warning enough; the alien was starting to get impatient.
"Duty calls," Raye said. He turned from the others and nodded to the elf—ensign? He wasn't familiar with Imperial ranks enough to know the difference between a commissioned or noncommissioned officer. Eh, little distraction, he'll find out later. "Take us to him, then."
The elf nodded and turned about sharply. Raye and Pierce followed after, learning quickly that keeping pace with him was no ordinary matter. It seemed that it was only minutes later they had arrived at one of the lifts that demarcated their allotted section of the starship. Both Serpents were breathing hard when they caught up.
"Holy," Pierce said, only just managing to avoid gasping. "I should hit the gym more often—" He broke off in a fit of coughing.
Raye could only nod in agreement. Had it really been only two years since war's end? He had gone soft.
The lift's doors opened and they marched in. The elf ignored the VI's automatic greeting and pressed a button. A small holographic panel flared to life, showing off characters in the alien script, and Raye was too far away for the auto-translate feature to engage. The alien's fingers danced across it once then the panel faded away. He went to parade rest and almost instantly proceeded to imitate a statue.
The Serpents were not as graceful; they took the opportunity to lean against the bulkheads and relax their muscles.
As he breathed Raye figured the alien was already pressed for time as it was, and wouldn't tolerate conversation, or so his prior interactions with their dignitaries and other officials led him to believe. Straight to the point, unbearably formal and stuffy, and never spoke out of turn—a diplomatic Serpent. This one appeared to be no exception. Then again, Miyu did mention having a conversation with the captain not too long ago, so maybe his perception of them was a tad off. He decided to test his theory.
"Is there anything you can tell us why the captain would want to speak to us?"
One of the elf's ears did a curious twitch backwards. That was funny—it seemed only humans lacked that innate ability to control their ear movement as easily as breathing. "Certainly. We are approaching the Double Persei Cluster on schedule and the captain wishes to have a conversation with you before you are released."
That was it: short, straight to the point, no elaboration. He'd have done Samuel proud, Raye thought with some grudging respect.
"So why now rather than any other time before?" This came from Pierce, who had recovered enough of his breath to speak normally. "We have had at least a month of travel, so he could have spoken at any time."
"The captain keeps his own counsel," came the prompt reply. "I am not permitted to guess his motives."
"Give it a rest, Pierce." Raye said. Pierce, who had been about to retort, closed his mouth. "Why?" he asked in a half-whisper.
The other man shrugged. "They're our technical superiors, you don't question your superior when they've made it clear something's not to be discussed. I'm sure the captain will be more open when we meet him."
Pierce grumbled but understood his logic.
The lift doors opened onto an unfamiliar deck. The lighting was less, and the corridor itself was much narrower. So this means we're at the center of the ship, Raye mused. These were not cargo halls, like their quarters, but crew corridors. They were also likely above the FTL-drive, and not far from the bridge either. Somewhere along the way the lift capsule had executed a complete one hundred eighty degree rotation as it traveled down the connecting pylon, so slight that neither Raye nor Pierce had the faintest inkling it had happened. Before his brain could misinterpret it and give him a headache the elf had set off at a brisk pace, and Raye had to force down nausea to concentrate on following him. It wasn't hard to do, fortunately.
It seemed that Imperial starship construction was just as spartan as Dynastic designs. For a moment, if Raye closed his eyes and counted to three, he could even pretend he was on a Dynastic destroyer or PDE cruiser. In many respects they were not too dissimilar from the other. Like the Dynasty, their interiors were bare and utilitarian, concealing how they worked from the common eye. Like the Dynasty, they used a stardrive that mitigated the wide-spread effects of inertia on the ship itself by translating it into forward motion, propelling them through an artificially generated wormhole to hyperspace.
From there the similarities broke down. Dynastic travel, and Federal from what he understood, through hyperspace was a dangerous affair. It had to be timed right, and everyone had to be strapped down as the ship began its approach to their destination. If successful—nearly "always" all the time—the most they would feel of that disquieting phenomenon called "hypershock" would just be a simple jerk about their inner ears, and that was that. If unsuccessful, everyone was dead, and the ship repurposed into a missile as otherwise cleaning up was extraordinarily messy. The Dominion had no such technological restrictions, and not even deacceleration would be felt when they exited.
How such things were even possible went beyond his and his brothers' understanding.
Additionally, where both Dynastic and Federal nations were limited entirely by centripetal force, the Dominion utilized "grav-plating" for all military applications; and that being a catch-all term for equipment that apparently replicated standard gravities using both strong magnetic fields and—Dynastic scientists suspected but could never conclusively prove—an infinitesimal fraction of neutron-degenerate matter generated by entirely arcane means. Centripetal force was considered to be for civilian usage only.
In the time it took for him to ponder this, which was very little time, they had gone through the corridor to its end, where another lift or transport car waited for them. This time there was no helpful VI, just silence and the everpresent hum of the ship's systems, and the trip was over before he could look around—barely had they stepped foot than did the doors slide apart.
Here, though, was different scenery, and Raye instantly knew they were upon the bridge.
It was a large module, buried deep in the center of the ship, and almost cavernous in appearance. Then his senses caught up with him—it was not enormous, that was an illusion presented by the myriad and colorful holographic displays showing off a bewildering variety of information. There was no helpful auto-translate to help make sense of the script. Apart from them, the only other presences on the bridge were three elves, dressed identically, and they paid no attention even as they entered.
Nor did their guide waste time letting them look around. With equal swiftness he escorted them across the deck and through another set of doors.
As they went Raye craned his head, looking at the crew—it may be his only chance to see how an alien race did their duties. At once he understood why they were ignored: to a man, the aliens had a thicket of wires and cables erupting from their heads spiraling off every which way, fading into nothingness before they even reached the ceiling, no visible connection whatsoever.
And then his sight was closed off—the doors had sealed themselves behind. The last thing he saw was their spaceman escort doing a salute.
Raye turned away. He'll get a chance to see more later. To be honest, he was thinking, I expected something more… exotic.
In direct contrast to the bridge—CIC? the distinction on spaceships was thin—the compartment was small, even for a captain's ready room. There were few ornamentations, and much of the room was taken up by a large holographic display table that seemed to function in exact replica and miniature of the grandiose displays outside. Here Raye could understand, at a glance, what he was looking at: the passage of their ship through subspace, the adjustments by alien technologies keeping that tunnel from crushing them, and the state of the local realspace "outside". Doubtless Pierce understood more of it, he had been trained as a bridge officer in addition to his primary medical duties.
The rest of the room had four chairs grouped around a small tri-legged table, and two of those chairs were filled. The one had the Captain Maedhros Faenorion, looking relaxed and casual; the other held a woman of blue light.
Both Raye and Pierce stood there with some awkwardness. Apart from a meeting where the captain first met all of the passengers shortly before they transitioned to hyperspace, they had never formally met with the captain one on one. Raye, in particular, felt uncomfortable around him. There was something not quite right about the man… er… elf. Almost as if he shouldn't physically exist, yet persisted as an afterimage made solid-state. Then again, there were any number of people that felt like that to him, consequence of rebirth. The psychologists had warned him that things would clash with his memory, for his psyche was still—strictly speaking—a newborn's thrust into the traumatic existence of a dead man. It wasn't entirely unknown, as clones even from birth to full maturation still had the odd flashes of foreign memory that was left over from their genetic template. God knew how often he had looked at Miyu and felt, several times, as an impostor looking upon the wife of another.
Pierce was the first to break the silence. "Um, hello, sir," he began. "May I inquire as the, um, reason for our summons?"
Maedhros gestured. "Take a seat."
They obeyed. As they sat Raye took the opportunity to study the other person besides the captain. She was humaniform at first glance, then subtle differences that indicated her alien heritage asserted themselves; the way her eyes looked, slightly slitted; the subtle curve of the ears, and above all the eerie way her skin changed between white to blue in a gradual manner, almost as if she were bioluminescent.
"I have summoned you for two reasons, both related," the captain was saying. He leaned forward and reached for a bottle of liquor neither human had noticed until now. "I apologize for the lateness, but it was decided after the incident some days ago. Would either of you care for a drink?"
They know, flitted the thought through Raye's mind. How could they not? Every inch of this ship could be their literal eyes and ears. "Yes I'd like some," he answered automatically. "I don't drink often."
"Abstinence is a virtue, so I'm told."
"I'll take some," Pierce said. "Medicinal reasons, pardon. You called at an awkward moment."
"He means you pulled him away from splitting theological hairs," Raye interjected. As expected, Pierce leapt upon it.
"It is not theological hairs, it is about how you interpret the lessons taught."
"Seems like a load of mumble-jumble."
"Why you—!"
"Peace, gentlemen," the captain said, holding up a hand. "I did not invite you to continue your discussion, as spirited as it was then. Now." He finished pouring their glasses and was holding up his own. "A toast, to Governess Takeno's health."
The humans copied his gesture and they drank.
Setting his glass down, Raye noticed the woman hadn't drunk anything, or indeed was offered a glass. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said, looking at her.
"That is fine, you hadn't offended me," she answered. She sounded exactly like the captain, but with a richer accent as if the Imperial Standard wasn't her first language. It wasn't Raye's either. "I am called Serena Butler, and I am the ship's VI."
It took a few seconds for those words to sink in. Pierce was quicker on the uptake. "Ah, so you're the one who speaks every time I walk into a lift."
"The very same. You may call me the soul of the ship. Every part of her is me, and all who breathe, move, and have their being within are my care."
"But… but aren't virtual intelligences computer programs?" Raye was eager to know more. The difference between VI and true artificial intelligence was the degree of autonomy they possessed, and the ability to blend in perfectly with flesh-and-blood. "You don't sound like one."
"That's because I am of a higher grade than most."
"Any relation to the Jihadist?" Pierce again, ever inquisitive.
At this, Serena laughed. "No, no, if there is any relation it is mere coincidence. It would be irony of the highest sort if I were patterned off her, but alas, no, I predate her by many years."
"Pardon? The Jihadist?"
"A noted technophobe and religious fanatic of Gamma Waiping, she launched a jihad upon all Aalaag influence after the first settlers discovered a holdout in hiding. Very nearly reduced the solar system to atomic dust in their zeal."
"Ah, consider me enlightened," the captain said. He leaned into his seat. "Such fascinating history your Dynasty has, fascinating yet tragic… yes, very tragic."
"I assume," Raye began, conscious of where they were, "that we're not here for a discussion of history, but something related to Cadfael's outburst? If this is a disciplinary measure, I will take full responsibility. I spoke unawares of his… history."
"It is not so much a disciplinary matter as it is a word of caution. Up until that moment two days prior, you all have been exemplary models of good conduct and conversation. Under those circumstances, there will be no reprimand issued. That being said, it would be remiss of me to not remind you that everything you had said during that meeting is tightly classified: absolutely no one other than yourselves, your wives, and the Dominion ought to know of it."
Raye nodded. "I do apologize. My mind wasn't thinking properly—I hadn't really thought of a suitable cover story."
"I presume the Dynasty had neglected to provide for one?"
"…yes."
The Captain frowned. "Odd indeed, considering the nature of the Hell moon and what you found there."
Neither Raye nor Pierce needed to be reminded of that place. Ostensibly a planetary satellite of no consequence, in a border system on the fringes of the Cornerian Federation, the fact that the Dynasty had clashed with the Federals had been something of an accident. Dynastic command hadn't expected to run into a fleet movement in the system, and they were sure neither did the anthropoi expect to run into them. Yet there had, indeed, been something down on that moon, an isolated scientific institute, seemingly abandoned, heavily armed to the rafters with enough anti-ship guns to take out a battlefleet—full of murderous robots intent on guarding something down there, to the point of massacring all of the anthropinos personnel whose frozen corpses Miyu had discovered deep in the tunnels.
From what Raye had learned when he had been debriefed properly, upon rebirth, the moon "Hell" was, in actuality, a happy accident they had stumbled upon, much in the same way when one comes across a seemingly worthless coin on the pavement only to discover much later it was composed of a highly valuable alloy worth its weight in billions of Dynastic credit. The fact that it had taken so long to actually figure out there had been a fleet action at all in that particular system was because the scientific institute's artificial intelligence had wiped out completely all transmissions from both sides. In effect, both fleets had been in a communications dead zone, and it was only because of his value to the Dynasty that the Director Samuel had eventually sent a squad for them.
Unfortunately, it also attracted Federal attention—and that had brought Star Fox down upon them.
"In any event," Maedhros continued, "it would be unwise to continue any further discussion regarding Hell. The story is, regrettably, out of the bag, but we can find fortune in the fact that it was to your fellow Serpents, men accustomed to secrecy, that you revealed this."
"What about that… that SharpClaw?" Pierce asked.
"It is of no matter," Maedhros said. "You are all going to the same place, a place of high security. Any secrets you may have unintentionally revealed without knowing will not get out." He leaned forward, setting his drink down. "But do remember, everything concerning your time on Hell is to not be repeated, not even in casual conversation with your wives. Though I can guarantee that you will be safe, the chances of something letting slip through will always be there. Not even the Dominion can guard against an errant ear."
A prickle ran down Raye's spine, followed by unusually intense chills. "This… this isn't a reprimand after all, is it?" he asked. "You sound like we are all in danger. How come I wasn't briefed about this before?"
"That's because the danger you are in is of a twofold nature. The first is obvious—partisans, rebels with a cause, organized resistance. Even though the Governess agreed to our terms there still exist groups who oppose her will, and the Federation is even more decentralized than your country. Not all of the paramilitaries were found and accounted for."
"And the other?"
"The other would be other foreign powers. Yes, as incredible as that sounds to you, there are other star nations out there who would have taken a bite out of the crippled Federation had they a chance. The intelligence they could have gained from you would have been astronomical, and the Dominion cannot allow that. The Governess is well-protected; she has a full contingent of the Dyad Emperors' own body guard at her side, day and night, waking and sleeping. But you all, scattered and isolated, much more difficult. The logistics of negotiations were hard enough—the Cornerians continually demanded reparations before they would even allow this ship through."
Raye cracked a bitter smile at that. Even with Jess' acquiescence to Imperial authority, she had gone up against a neutronium wall when it came to dealing with Lylat as a whole. Every single planet had demanded something in one form or another, the survivors of Aquas and Benomu most of all, and he had lost more than enough nights of sleep trying to word diplomatic letters and forms that would enable any sort of common ground. Jess may have had Imperial authority backing her, but on her shoulders alone fell the burden of convincing the very people her father had swore vengeance upon that her intentions were noble. It wasn't for lack of trying; it had taken two goddamn years before he could see Miyu again, and that was an impressive feat all by itself.
"So you understand the severity of the situation," Maedhros said. "Loose lips have damned greater empires than yours."
"I do; and there won't be a repeat of it. But," Raye added, looking anxious, "what of Cadfael? If I had known what had happened with him I would have been much more careful with him—Morgana told me, before you summoned us here, that I could speak to him without losing my head. Can I still talk with him, or is that too just as classified?"
Maedhros closed his eyes and leaned back. His forehead wrinkled, as if there was great strain going on behind his smooth skin.
But before he answered, Serena instead interrupted. "It is. And of a far higher degree than what we've just discussed with you. It would be best if you never broached the subject again." A faint smile creased her lips. "I doubt you'll be making a second visit to the infirmary then."
Raye coughed. "You saw that, didn't you."
"Yes."
"On that note, this conversation is finished," Maedhros said. "Please remember what I have said. Even though you're going to the best safehouse in all the galaxy do not—I repeat, do not—assume that it will truly be safe, for you and your families' sake." He directed this to both men, who nodded solemnly.
"I understand," Raye said.
"Understood," said Pierce.
There came a hiss, the door to the bridge opened, and there stood the motionless statue of the elf spacer. Both Raye and Pierce made to stand and leave, cognizant the interview was over; but only Pierce left, the door closing behind him.
"Yes, sir?" Raye asked, for Maedhros had made a "stay here" motion. "What's the matter?"
"What we are about to tell you is something that you will tell no one." There burned an intensity inside the elf's eyes, a certainty and conviction that made Raye's blood run with ice. "Not even your wife. Is this understood?"
Raye nodded mutely.
"Take a seat, please." This time it was Serena who spoke. Raye obeyed. As soon as he had made himself comfortable again, she began.
"We know that you are wary, and weary, of repeating your experiences with Star Fox concerning the nature of your first death. But for completeness, I request that you tell us the story one more time."
"Which one?" he asked. For there were two stories—the first one, on the Hell moon, that he had told in large and truncated part to the Serpents; and the second one, aboard the Eternal Fire, that he had been sworn to secrecy by Jess and later Imperial authority.
"The second one," Serena said. "We would like to hear it a second time."
His heart sank. Time to see if the story still holds. He took a breath, steeling himself for the experience, and launched into it. He started from the beginning—from when Director Samuel had reassigned him to the Titan, with the explicit order to assassinate Ezekiel; to his shocking discovery of Jessica somehow still being alive; to his reunification with Miyu as Jess executed her coup shortly after the Wrath of God 's second firing; to when the Cornerian supercarrier kamikazed into the ship, shutting down everything; and finally, to when they had found Krystal.
Here, though, was where the story altered. It was the same story he had told Jessica when she had regained consciousness—he had engaged Krystal in a firefight and gunned her down, vaporizing her corpse so completely that no trace was left. There was no way he was going to tell them a literal supernatural angel of God almighty had been inexplicably present there, executing divine judgment upon Krystal, then charging him and Miyu with her care. There was something about it that struck him as being utter absurdity.
"…and that's what happened," he concluded.
Both looked at him, without speaking, for a long time. Serena's expression was unreadable while Maedhros seemed to be doing his best to burn a hole between Raye's eyes.
Raye shifted. "Is something wrong?" he asked at last.
"You suspect anything?" Maedhros asked, but his question was not directed at the human.
"No. His conviction has not wavered," Serena answered. "Brain scans show nothing unusual."
"But how can it be this strong after this much time?"
The woman shrugged. "We may have underestimated her. But fear has strange ways of amplifying power."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Raye said, looking quickly between them, alarm rising. Surely they cannot have seen through it alrea—?
Maedhros sighed. "I'm sorry to say that you have been brainwashed, Mr. Belial. She did an impressive job on you." As Raye's confused look grew more incredulous, he added, "the woman Krystal is who I speak of. She has modified your memory, to make you believe you had killed her. That it has persisted for this long and so subtle until now is worrying."
Wait a goddamn minute…!
"Are you… are you saying I didn't kill her?"
Maedhros nodded. "Yes. That is exactly what we are saying."
To which Raye's only eloquent response to that was an undignified gaping mouth.
Serena rescued him. "We suspected there was something wrong with your version of events when we compared it to that of the other eyewitnesses aboard the Eternal Fire, the soldiers who found you and the Matriarch. They reported a feeling of intense cold passing by them when they entered the room. As you well know, cold air aboard a spacecraft is unnatural unless it is produced by something with either highly advanced cooling faculties—like this ship for instance—or produced by someone exercising her mental powers."
Raye continued to gape. How… how the f*#% are they coming up with this? None of this made any sense to him; what had Jess told them?
Serena did something, for in the next moment the captain's ready room had vanished, and they were sitting in a replica of the Eternal Fire 's infirmary, the action frozen in an instant. Just to their right stood Krystal, facing them, her tail's protective covering inflated as it fluffed out with adrenalin; her eyes colored with madness. There stood himself in profile on the left, holding her blaster pointed at her, a yellow glow emerging from its melting barrel. Miyu was behind where the real Raye sat, looking dazed where she had apparently been thrown to the side and had collided with the beds. They had both agreed it would be best, as she had been wounded in the fighting prior to tracking down Krystal, and so had stuck to that story when questioned by the Dynasty.
"This is as you've described it," Serena was saying. "We've had to take some liberties with the reproduction, so some of the details won't be right."
The scene unfroze. The simulated Raye fired the blaster at Krystal. There was a flash of light—the bolt flew and struck true. Miyu shielded her eyes from the glare. But then it changed. Krystal did not evaporate in a shower of vaporized gore, as Raye had fictitiously described; instead she took the blast, dispersing it in a shower of superheated plasma particles that radiated everywhere, and dropped down.
In the next instance, the doors opened and in charged the Dynastic soldiers searching for the disappeared Matriarch. Raye watched with increasing bewilderment as Krystal started running, not away, but past his oblivious simulated self, pushed her way through soldiers who ignored her as if she never existed, and vanished through the doors. The simulation ended in that moment as Jessica started to wake and Raye began moving towards her.
"What the hell did I watch?" he asked.
"Our best guess as to what happened," Serena answered. "The soldiers with you reported a sensation of extreme chill passing through them." The men Krystal had passed by started to glow a light blue. "Each of these individuals had reported the strongest sensation, indicating her likely path."
"And why do you think she's responsible?" Oh wait, Raye, why are you undermining your own story? his mind sarcastically cut in; he ignored it, because there was no way in hell his own story could top this.
"Reports of extreme chill usually accompany exercise of paranormal abilities. The fact that this Krystal is a strong telepath has not escaped the Dominion; what has surprised us is the unusual strength of her mind, given that all reports to the contrary have indicated she was losing it."
"They aren't wrong," he muttered. "But I didn't feel any sort of chill…"
"That's because she was most focused on modifying yours and Miyu's memory of this incident," Maedhros said. "She was likely more careless with the rest. And now you see the problem we are in."
"The reason for your relocation," Serena added. "We believe that this Krystal is still alive and out there, waiting for her opportunity to strike back."
To this all Raye could say was: "Wat."
"You jest, but your reaction is a natural one. Those who have been under mind control, even as subtle as what we've found out thus far, tend to react in much the same way. Denial, disbelief, then gradually anger. The mind's natural response to overthrowing an external influence. I'm sorry it has lasted for this long."
You are out of your goddamn minds…
"But you won't need to worry about this," Maedhros said. "Where you are going is one of the most secure sectors in all of the Dominion, second only to the Imperial residence. You will be protected by the full might of our forces. You need not to worry about the Governess, as the Dyad Emperors' body guard is well trained and are not easily influenced. We have agents and Inquisitors hunting for her, informants scouring the reaches of the galaxy for any scrap of her whereabouts. If she should be so foolish as to try and get at you, we are prepared for it."
"Well… well… I… I thank you for… for your graciousness…" Raye answered weakly, suddenly overwhelmed. He didn't bother trying to hide it, for they would assume any sort of suppression on his part was an indicator of this "mind control" crap they had somehow concocted to explain the unexplainable. "I am… am most relieved…"
"Excellent. It is regrettable that we had to tell you this at all, but given the circumstances of two days prior, it was decided that you learned the truth, and our reassurances. Sooner or later you would have asked, and no amount of bandying about would have been satisfactory."
"But what does this have to do with Cadfael?" he pressed on. "You told me that is classified, yet it can't be that classified as to rank above this?"
"What we have told you relates to you and you alone. What has happened to him is his alone. His pain is not yours to share. Yes, before you ask, he too is in as much danger as you are now. What we can tell you is that this Krystal would see him dead first before you, for he very nearly killed her."
"…I see, I see," he said after a very long pause. So it all made sense. "The Good Lord would understand," Cadfael had said, pain lingering behind his green-tinged eyes. So he had tangled with her, but had—apparently—come out worse than Raye had.
"And with that, our debriefing is over. To recap: everything we have told you must not be repeated to anyone else. Not even your wife. She will worry endlessly, and it will leak from her to everyone else. Furthermore, none of your experiences on Hell ought to be repeated either, for state security purposes." Maedhros then took the opportunity to fix his gaze directly on Raye's own. "That being said, it is, in my opinion, that you also be a little more open with your wife. She is very lonely and needs her husband to support her. I know this contradicts what I have just told you, but—"
"I know, I know." So that explained Miyu's recent change of behavior—that conversation she had with the captain, definitely not a coincidence. Just what had she told him, and why did he think it was his business to get involved? "Well, thanks for telling me," he said, real glumness permeating his tone. "Not like I wanted to know."
"If we had any other choice, we wouldn't have said anything until we found her," Serena answered, standing up; Raye followed suit. "But that would mean you would be ignorant of the danger, and wouldn't take the proper precautions. Our search could easily take centuries."
Raye didn't answer; he had said all he had needed to say, and anything more would risk scrambling his already fried brain. The truth would perhaps unintentionally leak out—but then, what was just one more absurdity compared to that mess? A literal angel, or the more believable poppycock of Krystal being able to modify memories at will?
The truth was that he was all too familiar with what she had been capable of.
This time the captain accompanied Raye back to the commons room. As they passed through the bridge he took the opportunity to examine the three inert elves standing about sprouting forests of wires from their heads. It was unbelievable seeing this—like something out of a movie or a drama. How did they control the ship like that? Did they directly interface with the ship's computer, and if so, how was that an advantage over that of a virtual intelligence designed and built for the intricacies of hyperspatial flight?
The only good thing about this musing was that it kept him distracted from the mess Maedhros and Serena had thrown him in, and prevented any conversation from springing up. He thought he saw the elf giving him a sidelong glance every so often, but it could have been a trick of the light. But as soon as he got back to the commons room—back to a reality that suddenly seemed less secure than before—he ignored any and all attempts at hailing him, ignored Pierce and Michael's spirited argument, and went straight for Miyu. But in the time it took to cross the commons towards her, he decided to hold his peace for now and wait until they truly were safe and sound, in their own "home", before he told her anything—and after he had checked it for any eavesdroppers.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~
~X~X~X~X~X~X~
A/N: A huge, huge, huge thank you to Sauron Gorthaur for going above and beyond of my humble request. All credit for this chapter, and the preceding four, belongs to her. Additionally, if you're into thematically similar work, Gorthauro Estel is my recommendation of her work to read, following Sauron, if he went back to Valinor instead of becoming a second Dark Lord and all of that LOTR stuff.
Also I'd like to point out that, as of this update, any review dating from before November 2021 will have incorrect information and/or be referencing things that may not exist anymore, because of so much change.
Additional thank yous to Nail Strafer, Rogercat, and TripleMRed for letting me bounce this stuff off them.