A/N: In case you can't already tell, this story takes a few vast liberties with the information given in the anime series and the manga. Just don't look to closely at it, trust that everything I say is true, and forget about the original ideas, and it shouldn't be too hard to believe. =)
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Disclaimer: I am not a plant technician, I am not a Trigun historian, and I am not the creator of Trigun.
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Knives lowers himself into the seat in front of the main computer controls, fingers immediately going to the keyboard to type. I stand behind him, holding myself up against the back of the chair as I lean in over his shoulder to look at the screen. Bits and pieces of scrambled, more than likely encoded, pieces of information flash along the screen at incomprehensible speeds, from bottom to top, scrolling. My eyes dart back and forth as it moves, trying to get as much out of it as I can. "What're you doing?" I ask, voice lowered to a whisper, as if whatever he is about to show me is a great secret, and no one must find out that it is being divulged to us.
He doesn't answer, instead typing in a few more commands. The screen flickers for a moment from white to black. A room slowly comes into focus, like none I've ever seen before. It is completely white, and the beings inside are also bedecked in white. The lights from above nearly cause glares to appear. It shows a few of them doing various things that are too hard to pinpoint. They seem to be working upon tedious tasks. "What is this?"
Knives sits back in the chair, crossing his arms. "Just wait."
The view quickly shifts to the right, where a small balding man in a gray coat appears, nearly smiling. "As you can see, the use of genetic engineering is already being put to work to vastly improve the world. Human beings are one of the largest suppliers of energy and electricity, but we have yet to find a way to harness it. Therefore, the idea that humans can be engineered into some form of cataleptic being that will provide nearly limitless production is not that far from our grasp. This is referred to as the "Plant Project." The screen fades to black.
"What the hell was that?"
Knives shifts uncomfortably in his chair and then looks up at me, frowning. "I think you know what it means."
I shake my head, disbelieving, eyebrows knit together in confusion and not able to comprehend that anything like this can be real. "Was he saying that plants are actually… humans? Humans that have been genetically engineered?"
He seems to ignore me, instead staring ahead at the screen in front of him, where another doctor stands, as if waiting for our attention before he speaks. "With the 'Plant Project' already vastly in motion, we now control a total of two running plants. However, we have discovered that they are not limitless in their lifespan or energy production, thus we have implemented our back-up plan. This consists of a small computer, which monitors input and output ratios, energy consumption and development, and growth rates. When the original plant reaches the end of its' life span, the computer will send new growth cells, along with electrical impulses that will spawn new growth from the mother plant. Much like a rose bush, it seems, the root controls the growth, and new 'buds' form from the stem. So far, each plants' life expectancy is roughly two years, though we expect that this will improve with the implementation of these systems, and also help to stabilize some of the electrical fluctuations that have been present thus far." Once more, the screen fades to black.
I think I'm beginning to feel sick. I practically sneer at the screen ahead of me. "Why is all of this information on this ship?"
Knives swivels around in the chair, standing up with his fists clenched at his side. He looks terribly angry, and I suppose he has every right to be. Knives always believed that the humans and the plants were so different from one another; that plants were a type of God-like being that deserved special treatment. Now, he finds out that they're nothing more than humans, as well. "I suppose it was for security. It was probably stored in every ship's memory logs so that if one of them crashed, there would be nearly infinite backups." He shakes his head, falling back to lean against the smudged, dirty wall.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself as I watch him mentally battle with the facts thrown upon him. Straightening up from the chair, I decide to go over there and do something… anything. I stop when I hear the sound of static behind me. Turning around, I see that another picture has appeared, blurred with colors all bleeding in to one another.
Steadily, something comes in to focus. It appears to be a room. Strangely, it seems to be a room on the Seeds ship, walls a pristine metallic silver, just as I remember them. Someone emerges in the room from behind some unknown place; a man dressed in a gray coat with a mustache and a rather thick pair of spectacles. He clears his throat, adjusting the coat about him, and then speaks. "Experiment number 0039, Project Vash." My eyebrows knit together at the name. "Due to unfortunate accidents in experiment number 0038, the original prototype for Vash has been destroyed. Thus, similar techniques were used to create another." The view on the screen shifts slightly, moving over to what appears to be two small plants, a larger one residing in the far background, pulsing steadily. "Once more implementing the technologies of cloning and genetic manipulation, we were able to cause new growth in the genes from plant number 5 and recreate normal plant growth and environment. However, certain 'side-effects' if you will, occurred, and Vash's genes mutated and separated, spawning a new growth form. This being will henceforth be known as "Knives." However, we were still able to succeed in causing them to appear human in every way, even including the navel despite lack of umbilical cord. Could you zoom in on this?" The view gets closer to the two small plants; the murky yellow liquid inside slowly becoming clearer to reveal what appears to be a small child. I stare at the engraved brass nametag along the top of the miniature plant that boasts only four simple letters: VASH. The man still speaks offscreen. "Vash and Knives were found by Rem Saverem three days ago. It seems the original calculated length of time for mother-bud incubation was incorrect."
My knees give way beneath me and I fall onto my ass in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the screen ahead of me, the only source of light in the room. I grasp my hand over my mouth, feeling as if I'm about to either vomit or pass out from shock. Knives reacts differently, running up to the computer screen and yelling at it. "Are you telling me that I'm nothing but a fucking side-effect?" The screen moves over to the second plant bulb, revealing what I suppose is more than likely Knives, smaller than… I was.
Knives growls and punches the screen, splintering the large glass covering and causing the picture to turn to crackling static. I sigh and shake my head, thoughts swirling through my mind that I dare say make no sense. It's almost as if my entire life has been a lie. I suppose I'm not as upset about it as Knives, but it's still gotten me a bit shaken and uncertain. He rests against the console, breathing heavily, before he turns to me. A strange, crooked, nearly insane smile is on his lips, one that I've seen many times in my life, one that has haunted me and my waking dreams, visions of the past flowing back inito my consciousness. I'd hoped to never see it again. "I suppose that makes sense. Look at me," he gestures to himself, hand against his chest, "and look at you." The other hand is poised palm up in front of him. "My hair, my eyes. They're so much lighter. Like a damn diluted version of the glory that is Vash." I can tell he's being sarcastic, probably trying to pick a fight of some sort. Sometimes I wonder, in truth, which of us is the cat, and which is the mouse? When cornered, Knives seems to blindly lash out at anything, anyone, that he can.
I'm not going to let that happen. Not to me, not today. I refuse to be the scapegoat any longer. Standing up, I take the initiative and role of the leader, knowing that being babies about this will get us absolutely nowhere. "Did you find out anything about the plants, Knives?" He leans back against the control panel, apparently surprised at the sudden change of subject. He stares at me, icy, metallic blue stones glaring. "Knives?"
"Just that." His voice is a low, angry whisper.
"That doesn't help us with the current situation. I'm just as shocked as you, but it's pointless to dwell on it when we should be worrying about what's going to happen; not what did happen."
His eyes are narrowed angrily, mouth set in a tight line. I push back some of my hair, trying to ignore the fact that he looks just about ready to kill someone. Understandably so, I suppose. "Why would I want to help vermin who mutate their own kind? Why would I want to help my own kind, if they're nothing but mutated vermin?"
Now it's my turn to get angry. It isn't a boiling rage like it has been before, when Knives was hurting something extremely precious to me. It's more of a little ball of pent-up rage, buried deep within that has been waiting to explode, and now has reason enough to, because he's being so nonsensical. "You've gotten so much better at seeing all people as equals, and now because of this," I gesture dramatically towards the crackling computer screen, "you're going to forget all of that?"
He glances at it numbly, and then back to me, a grave look in his eyes. I shake my head, at a loss. "Fine. Fine, you want to sit here and feel sorry for yourself? Watch as the entire population faces death? Go ahead. You'll die too, Knives, but life is all you know, and I'm ashamed that you would give it up out of nothing but stupid pride."
I turn to leave, my footsteps heavy and loud as I practically stomp towards the exit. "I'm not going to die! Only the bulbed plants are failing, you idiot."
Turning around at that, the anger becomes more intense. I know I shouldn't argue with him about this. I shouldn't, but I do. There are too many things… too many bad things, all of them pouring down on me at once. I feel like I'm about to snap. "You know damn well that we're going to die too!" I shout at him across the room, frustration with his naiveté building. "Stop thinking that we're immortal! Your hair is changing black, too, or did you forget? Dying it back to its original color won't change the fact that we're both dying. Our lives are slipping away before our very eyes, and all you can do is stand there saying that because you're not dead yet, you're not going to be." I shake my head at him, snarling. "You are so naïve, it's ridiculous."
"Well, I don't see you doing anything, either! What do you want me to do? I can't change anything. I don't understand what's happening!"
"Then stop sitting there whining about it and figure it out. I'm going to do something."
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Sitting at the bar of the only saloon open this late at night, I calmly run my index finger along the rim of the glass, moist with condensation. I could say that I'm working things through in my mind, running down a long list of theories and probable solutions. I'm not. My mind seems to have gone blank, really. Instead of trying to force it into action, I stare mutely at the ice cubes in my glass of scotch, watching as they melt and dilute the alcohol with water.
I am now thoroughly confused as to which course of action to take next. I was wrong to say those things to Nicholai. I was wrong to allow my anger to get in the way of my thought processes and logic. Knives helped me to find that out.
On the other hand, the plants are failing, and my brother and I, along with the entire population, could very well die out.
I am at a loss. Do I worry about my own needs and find Nicholai, apologize, and get things back to the way they were? Or do I remind myself that we have no idea how much time is left, and try to find some sort of solution? I don't know what to do. Someone tell me what to do.
"Why are you just sitting there? Don't you have better things to do with your time?" Knives' hand rests upon my shoulder, heavy and firm. He sits down beside me, calmly folding one arm over the other on the bar as he turns to watch my finger's idle motions. "I thought you at least had a plan. Certainly sounded like you did."
I smile weakly at him before picking up the glass, ice clinking against it, and take a small sip. "I don't."
He remains silent for a moment, looking at me, yet through me, as if contemplating. I give him a curious look. He scoffs at me, shrugging his shoulders. "The only thing I can think of to do is wait and see what happens. Maybe if we're here when it fails, we can get a clue as to why."
I sigh at that, placing the glass back on the bar and lowering my head. "That's fine. We'll wait. But in the meantime, I'm still going to try to do something."
He scoffs at me again, voice now incredulous. "What? What do you think you can do without knowing why this is happening?"
I stop to think about that, rubbing one of my eyes with the back of my hand. I suddenly feel tired; almost too tired to think. I decide to just give him any answer I can, anything to satiate his curiosity. "I've got a few ideas. Why don't you just do what you do, and I'll do what I do, and we'll meet somewhere in the middle?"
He scowls at me. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I stand up, the muscles in my shoulders tightening painfully as I try to move them. "I don't know anymore. I'm going to sleep." A twinge in the back of my neck causes me to flinch. I raise my hand to it, rubbing a bit. My eyes widen as it becomes even more painful, like a knife being jammed into my spine.
Seeing my expression, Knives stops scowling and mirrors it, eyes slightly concerned. "You okay?"
I nod, despite the fact that it sends jolts of molten pain down the length of my back, radiating out into my right arm, which goes numb. I'm almost grateful that my left arm is not real, and therefore has no feeling in it. "I'm fine. Just tired." With that, I head to the wooden staircase to the left of the bar, the one leading to the rooms on the second floor. With each step, another shot fires through my body, causing me to grit my teeth against it. By the time I reach the landing, I'm sweating and shaking, out of breath. The only things going through my mind are the icy, numbing pain and questions as to what the hell is going on.
I glance around quickly. No one is in the hall, thank God. I fall to my knees as the pain becomes more intense, releasing a strangled cry as my hands both go to the back of my neck, arms wrapping around my head. The hurt, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. Like fingers are being jammed into my brain, wriggling and pushing things around; like my flesh is being ripped off in long, thin lines down by back.
I close my eyes tightly, holding my breath and tensing every muscle in my body.
And then suddenly, as if it had never happened, the pain is gone.
I exhale and then breathe deeply for a moment, calming myself. My hands slowly lower from the back of my neck and I hold them out in front of me. My right one shakes uncontrollably, looking terribly pale and thin. I swallow roughly, glancing around before I precariously stand, using the rough, splintering wood of the wall as a crutch. What is happening to me? What is this I'm feeling? "Just forget about it," I tell myself. "Go to sleep and forget about it."
I begin to walk down the hall, to my room at the end. Then I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open in realization of a possibility that has eluded me thus far, a reason and theory as to why I've been getting headaches lately, and why this one was so exponentially worse. Oddly and against all common sense, I slowly smile and run to the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the bar. "Knives! We have to go back to the plant!"
He gives me a curious look from the bar, confused. "What? Why?"
"I have an idea."
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The plant is pulsating, like a star in the sky. The light goes from brighter than the sun to dim – so dim that the room is nearly black as pitch. I knew it.
"Knives," I bark at him, not bothering to contain my excitement and apprehension, "Get to the computers!" I run up the metal stairs that lead to the walkway threaded around the plant, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as I walk up to her. I can vaguely hear Knives call out to me that he's ready before I place my hands on the glass shell surrounding her. "Tell me what's wrong," I whisper to her, my breath hitching in my throat as I immediately feel the pain that she is feeling. I close my eyes tightly and attempt to control my breathing.
Buds… something about… giving birth? It's hard to understand her. She sounds muffled, white noise permeating the sounds. "I don't understand." Pain. There is molten pain, once again, and a gray light before she speaks. I press my hands more firmly to the glass, trying to get closer, hear her better.
After a moment, I gasp in comprehension, pulling away from her and turning to Knives. "It is the computers! Something in the programming controlling the births!" I jog back down the walkway and to the steps. Taking them two at a time, the inertia causes me to slip and bang my chin on the railing. Ouch… that's going to leave a mark. Not that I really care. I'm too excited.
"I don't see anything wrong with them. Are you sure?"
I pull myself to my feet and stumble over to him. "I'm sure of it. Something about…" I close my eyes, trying to remember every word as clearly as possible. "Something about the computers that control what is sent to the plants to spawn the new growth. There's something wrong with it."
Knives growls, still searching on the small computer, finding nothing, and getting frustrated. "This piece of shit isn't telling me anything!" he barks back at me, pounding on the keyboard. I place my hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "It's saying that all systems are running fine and there are no problems."
"If there were no problems, the plants wouldn't be dying. We need to find the other computer."
"Do you have any idea where it is?"
"No," I sigh, glancing around. I don't know where it is, but if we don't find it. "It must be near the plant," I say off-handedly, eyes scanning the room for a door of any kind. Of course, it would be hard to discern a door from a group of pipes in here, everything is so jumbled together.
"What about that?" Knives points at a tiny crawlspace underneath the walkway of the plant with a small vent-like, grated door covering it. The dark links stick out like a sore thumb in the metallic shine of the room. I should have noticed that.
"Oh, hey! Maybe that is it!" I run across the room, back to where the plant is, and kneel on the floor, jamming my fingers through the holes in the covering to pull it off.
"You wanna go crawling around with the spiders, go right ahead. I'll go ask Jason if he knows anything about it."
I nod to him, jerking the covering off and peering inside. It's pitch black. Oh well… it's not like I've never crawled through tiny shafts like this before. "We can't all spend our time with the butterflies, Knives," I answer morosely, mocking the arrogant nature of some of our previous arguments that occurred so long ago. I stick my head inside, feeling the impending hysteria of claustrophobia and trying my best to ignore it. I lie on my stomach and use my elbows to pull myself inside. Not enough room to actually crawl. Knives' footsteps begin to fade as I pull my way through a dark, musty-smelling, cobweb-infested tunnel.
"Large open fields," I whisper to myself. "Bright… blue skies and large open fields. The walls are not closing in on you. Ouch…" I feel around in the dark, hands brushing against some sharp object jutting out of the floor. It feels like a piece of the metal flooring has been bent upwards, but I can't be too sure. My arm is cut, but I continue forward and ignore the pain as the scrap of metal brushes along the length of my body. "Ouch!" Got my leg, too, the bastard.
I lift my head, pressing my torso down into the floor so that I can lift it high enough to see ahead of me. Thankfully, there appears to be a light source of some type up ahead… possibly a larger space. At least, I hope there is. Eagerly, I continue down the cramped space until I reach it. Poking my head out first, I peer around a dim room with white walls and – oh thank God – a computer that appears to be up and running, its small blue screen flashing a message. I pull myself out of the tiny space and fall onto the floor before brushing nearly five inches of dust and cobwebs out of my hair and off of my clothes. The air is still heavy and hard to breathe and it clogs my lungs. My arm is bleeding and my pants are torn, but I really don't care as I walk over to the computer, still brushing off dust, and take a seat in the small chair.
"Data input necessary. What does that mean?" I press my finger to the tiny button on the screen that reads, "more" and another screen comes up, black with white letters and numbers scrolling rapidly down the page. I blink, trying to read it all, until another message appears. "Input type?" Shrugging and trusting my instinct, I press, "automatic," and watch as the screen slowly fades out and turns off with a click. A heavy sinking feeling plagues me as, with a slight humming noise, every light in the room slowly fizzles out, leaving me in darkness once again.
"Oh shit…"
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I am SO sorry this took so long to get out. I've just had the most horrible case of writer's block. I feel really, REALLY bad about it, but I will try my best to work through it. I promise! ;_;