CHAPTER 15: "First Wrap Me In Her Raven Hair"
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
RATING: R, for violence and some language
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Deathfic
CODES: R/S (heavy on the R) with touches of everyone
The universe was spiraling out of control. The room was swimming before Malcolm's eyes, the cruel red light cast by the EMS fields above him making the cargo bay seem like a Halloween funhouse. The illumination poured over The Thing That Was Hoshi's face, painting her blood red.
"No," he forced through gritted teeth. He began to shake his head; slowly at first, but then gaining speed until it felt as though his skull would fly from its perch atop his spine. "No! Not Hoshi. NOT HOSHI!"
Hoshi tilted her head. "We are Hoshi."
"No you aren't! Stop talking like you are!" He needed to think. Needed time to clear his head.
"We are." The Thing took a step towards him.
Without a thought, Malcolm lifted the point of his phase rifle and aimed at The Thing's head. "Stay. Away," he hissed, too appalled at the thought of pointing a gun at his wife to think of anything more relevant to say.
She stopped and stood still, staring at him with vacantly calm eyes. A ripple of horror ebbed through Malcolm's body as he realized that, where Hoshi's soul had seemed whole and healthy just minutes before, it had now been fractured as T'Pol's had been. A thousand different signatures struggling for dominance in her almond-shaped eyes.
Taking a deep breath - but not lowering the rifle - he asked, "Why the ruse? Why make me believe… she was still normal?"
She tilted her head again; he was beginning to feel like a lab rat being examined by a mad scientist. "When we took this husk-"
"Host," Malcolm barked, voice shaking with anger. "You share one conciousness. You know I don't like when you call them husks."
She nodded once, and continued. "When we took this host, we believed her to be perfect. She had use to us. Her knowledge of language exceeds even our own, though we have lived in many hosts."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"She was not perfect."
Malcolm tightened his grip on the rifle. "How?"
The Thing paused, then continued. "She continued to… want."
"Want? What do you mean, want?"
"Upon absorption into the Amorphia, hosts become dormant. They cede control to the conciousness."
"You mean they're imprisoned inside their own minds," Malcolm growled.
She made no comment, and continued. "This host … did not cede control. She continued to want."
"You said that once already!" Malcolm snarled angrily. "WHAT did she want?"
"You."
Malcolm blinked. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the woman before him; the woman masquerading as his wife. "What… what do you mean, she wanted me?" he managed to ask.
"This host had strong … feelings for you." She said feelings as though she'd never heard it before. "We have encountered such feelings before, and have often overpowered them. But when she knew that you had returned to the ship-"
"Wait, she KNEW?" Hopeless anger overtook him again. "When did you take her!" he barked, shaking his rifle. "Answer me, dammit!"
Hoshi blinked calmly, unfazed by his reaction. "Shortly before your return. It was We of this host who opened the doors for your return. The host tried to fight, but we did not allow it."
Malcolm felt his world shatter. Had he been a little sooner; had he come back just a few hours earlier… "I still don't know why you tricked me," he murmured, eyes staring through her, lost in regret.
"The host would not desist in her attempts to regain control of its container. So a compromise was made."
"A compromise? What sort of compromise?"
"The host would cease her attempted sabotage, and you would be willingly brought into the Amorphia."
Malcolm squinted his eyes. "You mean… Hoshi TOLD you to take me?"
"That is correct."
"I don't believe you. Hoshi would NEVER…" But he trailed off, remembering the woman who had told him, not too long ago, that she would never leave, and that she could never bear to lose him.
"The host was given enough free rein to make you comfortable," she continued, ignoring his interruption. "When the time was right, we interceded and once again took control."
The feeling of Hoshi's warm lips turning cold and clammy against his mouth scurried through his sensory memory. "Why should I believe you?" he growled.
"Why would you not?"
"Because you're telling me that the woman I love wanted me to become nothing more than a memory in the back of a shell!" He straightened his back and held the rifle tight against his shoulder. "She… would NEVER do that. No matter what she may have said once upon a time."
The Thing seemed unfazed. "Believe what you will. The bargain was struck, and it has failed. The negotiations are over. You will join us, or we will feed." She began to walk toward him - even, measured strides.
"No I won't," Malcolm hissed. Then, for a moment, his face softened.
"I'm sorry, Hoshi," he whispered, and fired.
Minutes passed like lifetimes as he knelt beside her body. The Amorphia would know what had happened - would know that he knew. They would come for him now. But he couldn't bear to leave her.
"I meant it, Hoshi," he whispered, stroking her hair. There were no tears in his eyes - he didn't have the energy to cry. "I'll get them all back. And you. I'll get you back. I swear."
He looked away from her face and down to his phase rifle. He didn't know when it had been set to Stun rather than Kill but he could only imagine Hoshi had done it, when she'd had her brief requiem of control. The Amorphia would have known - that explained why she had taken no notice of his phase pistol. Which meant that she would wake up soon, and try to take him again. And he didn't think he could shoot his wife a second time.
Standing, he stared down at Hoshi's supine body, and began to plan.
The universe is created of orbits. From the largest galaxy to the smallest sub-atomic particle, everything revolves around something. People revolve around people, drawn by emotional gravity.
But energy…
Energy is different. Nuclear energy is created by the splitting of an atom - the fracturing of one of the smallest pieces of the fabric of space, releasing some of the most powerful and most dangerous forces known to man.
Orbits were all Malcolm thought about as he knelt in the Armory, reassembling a phase pistol, newly rewired. He thought about bioplasma, and whether it was more the bio or more the plasma. He thought about his crewmates - the thirty dead in Enginnering, the rest waiting to join them there. He thought about people, and recovery.
And he thought about Hoshi, and hope, and worlds succumbing to The Void.
"Destroy the brain, destroy the creature," he said softly, fingers moving reflexively over the casing of the pistol, rebuilding it, better than before. That was what he had been trained to do. "Where's the brain? Where's the center?"
Most of them are on the bridge, charting a course to God knows where. They swarm when they get a chance, like moths to a flame. I think it comes of having a collective conciousness.
Swarming; orbiting. Synonyms were fascinating things
But the question became, which one held the brain? The intelligent thing to do would be to put it in the strongest person on board. The one most able to defend himself.
That was him. No luck there.
The next best place was to put the Center - their sun, their guiding star, their nucleus, their heart - in the most unlikely person imaginable.
Where's Emma?
She's with Travis. They're both safe, don't worry.
I'm a father trapped on a ship that's been invaded by alien hostiles. I think I'll let myself worry a bit.
A soft laugh. Just trust me, they're fine.
Split an atom, and the world explodes.
"Hoshi, I wish you were here," he whispered, standing slowly and tucking the phase pistol into his holster. Slinging the phase rifle over his shoulder, he walked towards the door which would lead him to the corridor that would take him to Sickbay, then up to the Bridge. "I'll need someone to hold me when this is done."
Then, eyes dry but heart heavy as lead in his chest, Malcolm Reed went to find The Thing That Was His Daughter.