Colors of War, Chapter 6: Bet Your Soul On This
Promotion felt like nothing, she thought blurrily as she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. It still carried with it all the problems of having low rank, and there wasn't any opportunity to do anything. On top of that, she'd forgotten to ask Hurst for permission to return to Corel. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.
Power. If I had power...if I had power…
That was silly. She had power… she had the Mako. Wasn't that enough? Vincent was always telling her that brains mattered more than killing.
Power enough to rule…
She berated herself as soon as the thought drifted to the surface of her mind. Who was better suited to the job than Uncle Iri? He had The Voice and The Presence. Things that made people obey his orders, though she hadn't quite figured out why. It was a force to be respected. Certainly she had no idea how to do things like that, though she had often thought that life would be simpler if only people did what she wanted them to.
Shaking her head at the silly thoughts that kept blooming like weeds, the young Turk stripped off her bra and slipped into bed.
--
…stars…
Stars…
Stars, stars, stars. An endless expanse of stars.
Dead stars.
I come and drink from each pool of life, and all places are mine to hold.
(mine/yours/his/hers/you?)
A puppet, just a puppet given to me by the forces that reign over sky and space. Many, many puppets.
(nopuppetnonotapuppet)
They bind me, and I am halted, but I am a force of nature; I will not be denied. They talk of peace. I do not understand. I drink them.
(killdeadalldeadwhereami)
Their memories teach me of this thing called 'human', this thing called 'Cetra'. They teach me of 'hate', 'anger', 'fear'.
(somanymindssomuchPAIN)
I am the Starsnuffer, the death of planets, and I will win free.
(whereisthiswhoareyouwhatareyouwhyareyoudoingthistome)
And you humans are going to help me.
(NO!)
--
She jerked in her sleep but did not fully awake.
Tossing sweat-damp hair out of a hot face and turning over onto a cooler patch of the bed, she dreamed again.
--
Are you ready?
They stood together at the frozen place, the place of knowledge, the scar of the Planet, faceless. And she wept. He knew what must be done.
We need time… we need more time.
We don't have time. He gave her a brief, awkward hug, as much for warmth as for comfort. You know that as well as I do.
She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the blizzard that raged about them. It's too soon. The seal should have held it far longer.
It's been a long time since we sealed it up, Ifalna. And we're the only two left.
She gripped his arm as his gaze shifted to the faraway threat, suddenly afraid for his life. No- afraid for what must come. You'll die. It'll kill you.
Its arm is not yet that long. And humans are notorious in their greed for weapons. In spite of his firm tone, disgust tinged it.
The weapon might die, and all our work come to naught.
If we die, we die, and the Planet dies with us. The Cetra do not allow such things to happen.
You're really going to do this? What are you going to make it from?
We've discussed this, Ifalna. Your blood and mine, and a newborn will suffice. This must needs be done swiftly.
They stood together at the beginning and the end, one and two, and cast their defiance in the face of their ancient enemy.
Are you ready?
--
Diera jerked half-awake, startled by the question that she knew, oddly, had been addressed both to her and yet not to her. Rubbing a hand across tired eyes that felt strained with all her troubled dreams, it came away dripping wet, tinged with a rusty color that showed up brown in the harsh electric light of the CC base fittings. She touched the pillow; it was stained pale brown. A smell hung in the air like something vaguely remembered.
She was sweating blood.
--
"What is it you're worried about?" the hawk-faced medic inquired shortly, plainly not pleased to be woken up before dawn with the terrified screaming of a young girl. He wasn't the only one; she had roused the entire corridor by shrieking like a wounded chocobo. Diera could expect a request to return to Corel fairly soon, she felt sure. A good thing in the midst of all these bad things. All these mystic…
Mystic?
The Elders, she growled mentally, biting down hard on the rim of the paper cup that the medic had provided for her. They had to be behind this. She'd dissed them rather personally, even if it had been justified; this was their petty revenge. Well, see if she'd give them the apology they wanted! Nasty old men and their grudges!
And yet… the dreams had not been… her own?
"Give me a pep, and I'll leave you alone," she offered at last, realizing that her medic had repeated his question for the last five minutes or so. "I promise."
He looked suspiciously at her. "You're sure you'll be fine?" Obviously he noticed that she hadn't answered his question.
Deciding that the truth was harmless enough, if it did sound silly, she told him, "It's just bad dreams."
"It's your health on the line," he shrugged dismissively, going to his drug shelves and shaking some white capsules into a plastic sleeve. "Try not to rely on these. If you get hooked, I'll supervise you in the cold turkey myself. You hear?"
She waved a hand equally dismissively, relieved to find that she wasn't sweating blood anymore, even though the traces had dried into a rusty crust on her skin and in her sleeping shift. "I'll be careful. D'you think I can stay on active duty today?"
The medic looked up in the midst of a yawn, scratching a hand through sleep-ruffled hair. "It's not contagious, I don't see why not."
"Thanks, Uncle Justin." Deciding to take a morning bath since dawn was hours away, she ducked out into the corridor, leaving the medic to record her prescription down in his logs. He finished signing next to the line, and thought about this new case, perplexed. Sweating blood wasn't unheard of, but it was a very rare ailment, brought on by extreme fear, worry, anger and other negative emotions. Certainly it wasn't something that could be explained away by a child's nightmares.
The boss was going to hear about this whether Raistlorne liked it or not. He thought a silent apology to the girl. He'd sworn oath, after all.
----
Author's note: Deutrinium took a long time, and Just Sure took me just two days. (sighs) I'm inconsistent. If this chapter seems shorter, it's so I could steer the story back on track and on schedule; right now it's following my timetables quite nicely. As before, please review! I'm starved for reviews…