Disclaimer: I smell something bitter, and something else that's... fruity. -Rating up to M- Kiddies out of the pool!
Chapter 34: Tragic Angels
There were no words for him. Words, the neat little packages of sound, used to convey a bit of information or a concept. A few would pop into his head, but he could articulate none, for they all fell short of what he was feeling. Therefor, he had been forced back from the warm trappings of rational thought and enlightenment to the instinct and feeling of the unthinking beast. In that pure state, he found power, and struck out with it. The machines that had harmed her were themselves harmed in turn, flung aside by a wisp of thought. He screamed into the ether, shattering the song, trying to strike at the one who did this, but finding nothing.
He slowly became coherent, returning to a state that was merely unbalanced. He could understand what he heard now, though it did nothing to help him. She was begging, pleading for any sign from him. A comfort, normally, but not now, not when her words twisted into meanings of subservience and worship. He couldn't take this. He had to know what was done with an urgency so great all other things were squeezed out. It made him do something he had never done before- he formed a link and dove into her mind without asking, deeper than her active consciousness, through the place where memories resided, to the place that held the essence of a person. Had he been in his right mind, he never would have considered it.
The very first thing he encountered was a wall, far larger and stronger than anything he had ever seen her create. It was likely formed by him, the one who stood just before its vast expanse. Seeing him brought out the rage once again, and this time his mental arm twisted and burst into a flurry of razor-like feathers to match what was back in reality. They slashed again and again and again, but did no damage- this was but an image of Knives, after all, and possessed all the substance of any other object from a dream. The image spoke, playing out a recording made and left for him even as he tried to tear it to shreds.
"Hello Vash. I suppose you became curious as to just what is happening in your little pet's mind, as I thought you might be. However, there is a little task you must accomplish before you can proceed further. Not long ago, I showed you a memory, on how I determined that all humans were flawed no matter what they might claim to be. That was only part of what I had to show you. The second memory has been placed here."
The transparent form stepped aside, and a black door appeared in the wall. His burst of rage was waning, a hope now building that all Knives had done was create an elaborate front so he would be forced to see this memory.
"Beyond that door lies the other memory I carefully preserved. It was the one that laid out what had to be done. I never wanted to force it on you, because it is... horrible- the ghastly proof that the humans are wretched, foul creatures that deserve to die. When I found it, I felt something in me wither away. I never wanted you to feel something like that, so I hid everything from you. Unfortunately, I fear this has only caused us both pain. In keeping you from the truth, I forgot an important detail- that without truth, lies and ignorance rule. For this, I am sorry, though I don't expect forgiveness. Now go, and see what I should have shown you from the start."
The image faded away, leaving only the door behind. He tried to calm down and steeled his nerves. If he wanted Meryl back, this was the way he had to go. He took a few deep breaths before realizing that they would do him no good in here. It wasn't real air, after all. He gripped the handle and pulled the door open. The darkness within was absolute and seemed to suck hungrily at him. He took a step back. Maybe this was a bad idea... but Meryl was waiting for him. He stepped in.
"How are the energy levels?"
The lines scrolling across the screen wiggled, but didn't drop. "Holding steady."
"Still? Administer another CC."
A technician dressed in full hazmat gear in the adjacent room moved to do as instructed, as he watched the monitor. There was a brief drop moments later, but the levels climbed back up to standard even faster than before. Now that a decision had finally been made, long after he had already figured out what it had to be, things just refused to proceed smoothly. One CC should have done the job, but it had already taken four to no lasting effect. Damned thing... One of the other technicians spoke up to the project head.
"Sir, this would support my adaptive core theory. They keep neutralizing the injections and forcing repairs on the atomic level, getting faster each time as they become more accustomed with the substance. The recovery times are matching my simulation to within 99.5."
"Noted, but what would you suggest to counter the effect?"
"Remove one of the cores, and increase the dosage by a factor of ten. The remaining core should overload as it attempts repairs at the current efficiency level."
"Need I remind you that we're behind schedule already? Removing a core would take nearly an hour-"
The junior technician interrupted. "Only if we use standard procedure. Since the project is ending, we don't need to take such care. We can simply remove the whole section in one stroke, and we may learn whether or not a core can truly function when separated from the primary control."
The leader considered the proposal before nodding. "Very well, but be sure to use the laser on a high heat setting. Leakage will cause distortion in the readings, and we're only getting one shot at this, so all the connections need to be melted to a seal."
The technician in the room fetched the cutter tool while several of the junior technicians put their hands over their ears. They just weren't used to the noise yet. The first time he heard it, it had spooked him thoroughly, but a few months on the project got him over the sound. Sure enough, there was a piercing shriek as the core and adjoining section was removed.
"Administer ten CCs."
He watched the monitor again. The levels dropped a little, then the decline slowed for a few seconds. Suddenly, the lines dropped sharply on all points save the remaining core, which rocketed off the scale. Another shriek sliced through the room, catching everyone off guard. "Holy shit, look at that!"
He stood to get a good look at what had made the junior burst out like that- the monitors didn't matter now, it was what they expected from the start of the procedure. What was happening in the adjacent room was very much unexpected.
It was screeching continuously, but that wasn't what got his attention. The remaining core was glowing so brightly he could see it clearly, and it was starting to arc electricity around the room. The technician inside dived to the floor as the energy danced, jumping from item to item in small nets and occasional large bolts. An especially violent outburst hit the room, momentarily turning the viewing window white, but afterward the overall storm lessened. It happened again a second later, and this time he noticed a change in the subject. Once more, and the change spread much further. Now it began to convulse violently, knocking off or breaking many of the tubes that had kept it functioning. After the sixth burst, the core faded and the bolts died out. It twitched slightly.
Then it looked at them. It always unnerved him when it did that, and this time it was worse. Now that the hair had turned all black from the prior peppered white, it appeared even more human. Damned monster... Why wouldn't it just up and die already? If nothing else, it was tenacious. It had withstood temperature extremes, nutrient withholding, all manner of toxins, and even an extended bout with the vacuum of space. They hadn't even slowed down its phenomenal growth. Sure, it had looked worse for wear, but the physical parameters just kept growing. A few more weeks and they wouldn't have been able to contain it.
/"Could've been... Friend..."/ He glanced around, searching for who had said it. Sounded like a lady, but all woman had been removed from the project some time ago. If anyone was suggesting that they could have been friends, they clearly hadn't read enough history. Every great civilization came to ruin when it got soft and let someone tougher get established, and the thing in the next room was clearly tougher. At least the Lost had been butt ugly, and that made it easy to kill them, but this new plant spawn looked so much like a human it had begun triggering maternal instincts in the starting research team. Didn't they know that naming a monster wouldn't make it any less of a monster? It would only lower your guard, though after that dying display the name it had been given made eerie sense. Looked just like an overcharged Tesla coil... At least the higher ups had seen it for the oversized cuckoo it was, and wisely decided to nip it while they could.
It finally lost focus and went limp. A glance at the monitors showed everything at zero, but they could just be shorted out. The technician in the room cautiously got off the floor, and gingerly prodded it with a gloved hand. It didn't move. The project leader propped his glasses back up and began to issue orders.
"That's a wrap. Check your data to see how much that surge may have corrupted the readings. Place the subject in stasis, we'll have to wait until planet landing to conduct the full autopsy. Keep the separated core in a nutrient bath for the next forty eight hours and monitor all behavior. Everyone not involved, write up your final reports, and remember that this is level three restricted- nobody outside the project or council is to know anything. Dismissed."
The team filed out of the room. He stayed behind to set up the automatic monitors for the still active core. That done, he turned to leave.
"Steve, wait."
"What is it?"
The team leader flipped off the audio relay into the containment room. "I've received a report that another plant is displaying the instability pattern that preceded this one's spawn."
"We have all the information we need, so why don't they just jettison the plant into space?"
"Two reasons. First, it's not a geoplant, but a Mark IV plant, and thus contained within a ship. Second, the council has decided to stay out of it."
"What do you mean?"
"They're going to let it spawn and leave the crew to decide what to do. Word is that they're hoping the crew will raise it."
"What! Surely they know that letting one of those things survive is a hazard to humanity!"
"Evidently they don't, being the politicians they are. I'm not that worried, though."
"Not worried? Dr. Conrad, with all due respect-"
"That's because I've placed a transfer in. I can't go since that would raise too much suspicion, but with a little tweaking I managed to remove you from the list of Project Tessla and have you rotated onto the lead ship. I'm actually rather interested in what development will be like for one of them without any of the difficulties we placed on this one. I want you to observe and record... and should it become aggressive, terminate it."
"Sir, I really don't think this is a good job for-"
"Nonsense. You're a good man and an excellent plant engineer. Your qualifications are sufficient for this task."
"I still think it should be one of those intel spooks. They've got training at hiding emotion-"
"They're also not cleared to know anything about Project Tessla, and that greatly lowers the pool of people who can do the task at all, and you're the only one who I'd rate over 'marginal'. You're stuck with it whether you like it or not, but it's not all bad. After all, there's a good chance that the spawn will be killed right away, and even if that doesn't happen, well... Space is a dangerous place, and accidents are known to happen, if you get my drift."
"I understand perfectly."
"That's my boy. I think you'll like Captain Joey, and both the women on staff are single. One is actually a distant relative of mine, and a widow, after the Lost got her husband. I think you could do her some good. I'd certainly welcome you into the family."
"Ah, this isn't exactly a good time."
"Nonsense! This is the perfect time. The next generation won't come out of nowhere, and after seeing that you should know that we'll have to work hard at making sure there is a next generation. How about some lunch?"
The doctor put an arm over his shoulder and ushered him towards the door. He took one last look back at the containment room, where the technician was just finishing placing the body and severed arm into their respective tanks. Yeah, there was definitely work to be done on furthering humanity... For now, he'd just focus on making sure they stayed on top, where humans belonged. Now, what would be good for lunch?
He practically fell out of the memory. That was... She had been... Someone like him... And they killed her for it. He could barely pull himself up. Knives was right- that was horrible. And to speak of the devil...
"Now you've seen it all. Do you understand why they must die? Such cruelty, such torment... I saw it all, every moment, every injustice, everything he knew. It was all because they could not accept that humanity was destined to be superceded by our kind. For that one pitiful reason the first of us, we who have the potential to simply walk and see all the universe, was condemned to a short existence filled with nothing but pain. She never went beyond that one room. I tried to be merciful in executing their sentence, but circumstance made things much more drawn out than I anticipated. Gather your pets, brother. Humanity's long delayed end will come swiftly."
The image faded, and the wall crumbled away. Finally, he could go get Meryl, and then she could help him make sense of all this chaos. Now, to go looking... He boosted himself across the landscape of her mind, looking for anything familiar, but all there was to see was an endless barren plain. He finally spied a glint of something different, and zoomed over. It was... different. The features were unlike any he'd seen before, though there was something even more odd about them. It was almost like they had no substance, as if they were... hastily made... He boosted out, and slipped around again- that couldn't be everything, those features were nothing like her, so where the hell was she? He combed the land over and over, to the edge of her mind, but no matter where he went there was nothing else to be found. She was...
He fled, back up, through all the layers. He had to get out of here, if he stayed, he'd have to admit it... And he couldn't do that. So he ran, flew, tunneled, any movement that would take him away from what was back there. He practically tumbled back into reality, right onto the cold metal floor below and the warm plant bulb that kept him propped up.
"Mr. Vash!"
Just as had he been able to view the physical world, it was cut off again by Milly's distraught face. She clutched his collar and began shaking, all the while spilling out what she'd seen as full steam. "WetriedtofollowbutyouweretoofastandthentherewasthisawfulscreamandwefoundyouwithlotsoffeathersandMerylis-"
She stopped abruptly. The palm that had shot up from below ceased the outpour the instant it impacted her chin. Her head snapped back and her grip loosened, then fell away entirely as a slender bare foot planted itself firmly in Milly's midsection. It then shoved with enough force to send the big girl tumbling. Then he heard her.
"Insolent! How dare you treat out Master like that!"
He could only stare dumbly as she turned away from Milly, the snarl of rage on her face instantly softening into concerned doting. "Are you all right Master? Did she hurt you? Your arm looks normal now, though I think you've lost a lot of blood..." His hearing failed him, leaving the world as loud ringing. As he was fussed over, his gaze drifted past the one before him, to where Milly was picking herself off the ground. She reached up, fingers brushing over the forming bruise, then her face shifted from incomprehension to screwed up misery and she burst into tears. The lilac eyes never ever looked back at the friend they had hurt. He could take no more, and fled for the blissful darkness of unconsciousness.
Awareness came back swiftly once he finally stirred. His eyes opened to see the dimmest of light illuminating the room he was in, coming as is was from the thin cracks around the door. The slight hum and smell of machined air told him this was a steamer, likely the Archangel, and the warm softness below him was certainly a bed. The warmer, rather weighty softness above and to his side was another matter, though his suspicions were strong given that his arms had wrapped around it sometime while he was out. The weight, the warmth, the way her breath tickled his chest and her heart set a gentle rhythm... It was all like the past few days had never happened. His hand came up unsteadily to gently run down her bare back, each pass comforting on one level, but also leaving a horrible tightening in his chest.
She stirred, a soft sigh rumbling through her. Then, deepening breaths and a quickening pulse told him she was awake now. He froze, suddenly afraid to move, while she remained still for long moments. Then she let out a lingering sigh of contentment and began to shift, sliding one leg over to rest between his. Her hands played up and down his body, the touch nothing short of electric. His breath froze in shock as she began to grind down, wrapping around his side like a snake and making much huskier moans. This was wrong. "No..."
She paused and pulled her arms back, then she began to slide down his chest, trailing kisses in a meandering path leading lower. "I'm sorry Master, your pleasure should come first..."
"No! Just stop. Please."
"As you wish."
They laid motionless for a time, but he knew this was just delaying what he had to do. There was crushing pain as he hardened his heart in preparation. Then he was done, and there was nothing left but to say it. It was odd how calm it sounded in his ears when he finally spoke, very soft and without a trace of emotion.
"Get out."
"Master?"
"Get up, put on your clothes, and leave."
There was a twinge of disappointment in her voice, but not a trace of anger or sadness. "I... Of course, Master."
She shifted the covers and rolled off him to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned to the wall as the lights came on, listening as she pulled on her survival suit. It seemed to take her much longer to dress than normal, the mattress lightly bouncing with each movement. It finally lifted back into shape as she got up with a slight grunt. He heard her fight with the suit a bit more, then finally move for the door. One step, two steps... a sharp tap? Two more steps then another tap followed, and he turned to look at her departing form. She was moving slowly, firmly planting each foot on the ground then bringing a cane forward to support her through the next two steps. He suddenly felt like he had shrunk a good three feet- in all the shock at what Knives had done to her mind, he had forgotten what else had been done to her body. He should have been the one to leave, but had been too busy stewing in his own misery to remember. She paused at the door and turned back to him.
"In the morning, the regiment doctor wishes to be graced by your presence. He examined both of us and says he has several things to discuss with you. The 3rd has swept the area, but has found no sign of your brother."
She reached out and began to twist the door handle. "Wait, what about Milly?"
She paused. "I'm sorry Master, I don't know. I had to watch over you while you were recovering. Shall I fetch her?"
"No, just leave me alone."
A nod, and then she was gone, the door clicking behind her. He reached out and turned off the lights, laying back in the suddenly chilly bed. He was used to a cold bed, as a few decades of wandering had taught him all the tricks on keeping warm. However, he knew of nothing that could warm the chill in his heart. "What do I do now?" He drew the covers closer. "I'd know what to do if she was dead, but I've never seen this before..." He curled up, clutching at his head and staring wildly into the darkness. "Rem! Rem! I don't know what to do, Rem!"
There was no answer. Rem had been beyond his reach ever since he had fallen from grace.
It just kept hurting and hurting. Sure, she had taken a few bumps on the chin before, and growing up on a farm meant you'd take a few good kicks from the Tomas, and all that was a good bit more forceful than these last two. But they still hurt. It wasn't so much the body, really. She kept going over and over the moment, and decided it really wasn't the slam or the kick that hurt, but that look she had received.
Sure, Meryl got angry. She would get all worked up over silly little things, but that was simply how she was. Meryl used that to keep from getting too involved with people and to stay focused on the task at hand. True, it sometimes got her in trouble, but Meryl always knew when to rein it in. She never really said it, but Meryl wouldn't let that anger of hers hurt someone who didn't deserve it.
But that look... It had made her skin all clammy. It wasn't the regular anger of Mad Meryl, but real rage. She had actually gotten so angry that she had hit her, twice, for no reason. It was like Meryl just wasn't Meryl anymore. It was quite a shock to Mr. Vash too, because he had passed out right after. Things had just become worse from there. Meryl kept saying all sorts of things that made no sense, and it scared her. She kept glaring at everyone that got too close to Mr. Vash, like she couldn't trust anyone anymore. Even worse, while she ranted and raved she seemed oblivious to how bad off she was. That Knives had clearly gone and done something horrible.
She might have found out what it was, as Knives had left a note behind. However, big big brother had found it first, then his face had gone all pale as he read it, and now he refused to give it to her or tell her what it said. It must have been very bad indeed, because now she had two Cavalry soldiers watching over her at all times. Sure, they were very nice and polite, always with a smile, but she could tell they were forced. They had seen the letter too, and they just couldn't really smile after that. Indeed, she was starting to suspect that just about everyone had seen the letter but her, even though it was rather rude to be reading a personal letter if it wasn't meant for you. That was why she hadn't read the crumpled page she had found in the ship, and certainly hadn't shown it to anyone else. It had Meryl's handwriting, and the very first word was "Vash", so she read no further. Once Mr. Vash was up, she could give it to him.
Still, it was kind of unfair that he could sleep like that while she was sleepless. She had only managed a few fitful hours this night while he had spent all of last night, the following day, and now most of this night snoozing. Still, those had been very large feathers, and sprouting them then pulling them back must have taken quite a bit of work. Her thinking was interrupted by a rumble, and she knew that she might as well give up on sleep for tonight- that gurgle meant her insides thought it was time for breakfast, and once someone had breakfast they couldn't go back to sleep.
She changed and stepped out, the two soldiers snapping to attention and pretending that everything was wonderful. Unfortunately, she needed to be doing something to pretend everything was wonderful, and there was simply nothing for her to do here. Well, aside from going to get some breakfast, assuming it was available this early.
"Is there anyone in the mess hall?"
"Usually not, but tonight it's been busy. It's not exactly official, but it's been doubling as the local bar when we get bad news."
That wasn't very comforting, since the only news appeared to be Knives' letter. Well, no sense mulling on something she didn't know. She worked her way down to the mess hall. It was lightly populated, but the people in it were rather quiet as crowds went. They were scattered in twos and threes, and everyone was nursing a drink, at least among those who hadn't passed out. It was the most depressing bar she had seen in some time. There were plenty of unoccupied tables, but eating alone just wouldn't do this morning. She did spy one familiar face in a corner, so she drifted over after grabbing some slightly aged toast from the counter. The samurai looked up momentarily as she sat right around the corner from him, then stared back down into the bottles before him. He smelled rather drunk.
"Mr. Rai-Dei, didn't you say that samurai always conduct themselves properly?"
He looked up, then back down at the bottles. Suddenly, he swept them all aside and into the wall, where they shattered quite noisily. Several people looked up at the sound, but slowly turned back to their own glasses, bottles, or flasks. Yes, they were quite moody tonight, not that she really felt all that good either. Rai-Dei leaned back to look at the ceiling, but there was nothing up there but ceiling, which was dreadfully dull to look at. "A samurai, you say?"
"Yeah, with the sword and bushido and the fancy moves you told me about!" She waved around a butter knife for effect, sometimes people were quite slow to catch on when drunk. He seemed to find that funny, because he chuckled.
"But am I, really? You know the power they command, and after seeing what happened to your friend, I cannot be certain anymore. How do I know that this has always been my calling, when they can just reach down and remake you? Is everything I believe in truly my own achievement, or a manufactured memory of things that never happened, and a person I never was? How can I be sure I am who I think I am?"
Really now, people asked the silliest questions when drunk. "I know you're you, and so do you."
He gave her a very odd look, so she continued. Sometimes you just had to spell things out. "Well, if you don't think you're you, just look in a mirror. If you have any doubt about what you know, then just relearn what you learned. If it's true, you'll learn it again, and if it's not, then you won't. Sometimes you forget things or don't quite remember right after a while, so it's good to learn what you think you know!"
Now he was crosseyed with his mouth hanging open. "Mr. Rai-Dei?"
"I... do not... feel so good..."
He moved to stand, but didn't push his chair back first, thus causing the table to tilt crazily. She barely had time to snatch up her plate before the whole table fell over, with Mr. Rai-Dei close behind. He began to snore softly. That... was so unfair! How come he got to sleep so soundly when she could barely close her eyes? Not to mention how rude it was to fall asleep while someone was talking with you!
"Mr. Rai-Dei, you are a very disrespectful man! You'd be an embarrassment to your daimyo, if there were any of them still around! And what would your mother think! You'd drive her to tears acting like that, not to mention nearly wasting good food!"
Now her finger was in a good scolding wag, even though Mr. Rai-Dei didn't seem to care much. She was so worked up that she didn't notice the entrance swing open until the newcomer was already inside and heading her way, a slow but steady series of taps preceding them. The less inebriated among the crowd began to edge away and surreptitiously slip out the door, while the more to-the-wind hastily chugged whatever they had left and hunkered down for the duration. Finally noticing, she gave a weak smile and tried to wave, but the feeling just wasn't there. The taps stopped right in front of her, replaced with a short, clipped question.
"How are you?"
"Me? Oh, er, I'm okay, though I am a bit tired. How are... you..."
Her question just trailed off as the recipient had already turned and started for the main counter. She considered going after the retreating figure, but then what? In the end, she just righted the table and set her plate back down to finish breakfast- after all, they had usually eaten together, and even without conversation it would still help her feel better. She watched the counter as a meal was assembled among the leftovers from yesterday, and she tried to scoot Mr. Rai-Dei over a little with her foot so there would be room at the table for another. The loaded plate was lifted from the counter, teetered precariously, and barely managed to make it back down to the counter in one piece. An audible grumble came up as the lift was attempted again, this time balancing the plate along an entire forearm to gain leverage instead of just using a hand. The sight made her heart sink- she really hoped it wouldn't be like this forever, it was just much too wrong to see such weakness where strength once resided.
However that hope would play out in the end, for right here and right now, a different hope faded. She finished breakfast alone.
Quite frankly, he would have preferred to stay in bed. Indeed, he might not have gotten out at all if it wasn't for the mention of the regiment doctor having something to say. That, and an ear-splittingly loud reveille that came out of the loudspeaker so suddenly he nearly banged his head on the ceiling. Still, it was easily apparent that he was far from normal. His morning routine was completely off. Even though he used a spent shell casing instead of a fresh egg, a small item was a small item, and nothing should have thrown him off this much. As things usually went, he'd be able to leave whatever he was using perfectly balanced on the tip of his gun, then quickly holster and draw to catch the item before it fell. This time, he was wobbling so much he couldn't even keep the shell casing balanced, much less keep it in place when he tried to do the actual exercise.
Maybe it was because he kept on having memories of happier times get in the way, of other mornings when Meryl would watch him practice. She would usually watch him for a few moments here and there, smirking with raised eyebrows. Then one morning, she came in with her cloak, snatched his egg, and proceeded to give him one heck of a show. Fifty bounces later, the egg was back on the tip of his gun and he had a new appreciation for derringers. Those times and many others kept pushing into his head and throwing off his concentration.
Eventually, he had to acknowledge that he simply wasn't going to be able to do his usual routine, so he did what he could then sought out the doctor. Finding the doctor's office area wasn't a problem, as it was only a few doors down. The actual doctor, on the other hand, wasn't due for a few more minutes. The orderly that had informed him had gone back to stirring a foul-smelling concoction, in between filling jars with the stuff. He was about to ask what it was for when a pair of soldiers dragged in a third trooper by the boots, grabbed one of the jars, and poured the reddish-green soup down the guy's gullet. A second later, the man sprang up, raced for the sink, and stuck his head under the faucet while gulping for all he was worth. Wake-up juice, then. He'd seen a few dozen variants over the years and had a few administered, just enough to convince him that it was better to stick with a hangover than to go through the jolt. The scene repeated itself a few more times as more personnel were dragged, shouldered, or rolled in, but the orderly didn't even bat an eye. This must be fairly normal.
The doctor finally arrived and took but a glance around before motioning for him to come into the private office. Once inside, the man shut the door and sat behind a sheet of metal propped up by twin filing cabinets- a desk of some sort. He sat down across from the doc, nervously wringing his hands. The man shoved up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, then got right to the point.
"I've got good news, bad news, and good news. Which would you like to hear first?"
It was actually quite the question. Did he want to get the bad stuff over and done with, or should he have it tempered with some good news first? He just couldn't decide. The doctor noticed his indecision and jumped ahead.
"Well, the good news is that you are just fine. You do have somewhat low blood counts, but that's only to be expected after losing some. You'll be back to full in a matter of days. Though I must say, I did get quite a shock when you were brought in, I've seen corpses in better shape."
The doctor forced a chuckle, which simply made him cringe. It was never good when a doctor tried forced humor before delivering bad news. At least this doctor knew enough to see when he should just cut the crap and not try to lighten the mood. Besides, while the thought was nice, he didn't particularly care if he was going to live another century and a half or spontaneously combust in ten seconds at the moment.
"What about Meryl?"
"Ah, yes, Ms. Stryfe, or is it Ms. Stampede now?"
He just shot the doctor a look.
"Right. To put it bluntly, she's been through the wringer. I'm still not sure if I've determined everything that was done to her, but I feel this list is accurate from her testimony. Evidently, she was... fully aware for the duration. I fear that's caused her severe mental trauma, and will require someone much more trained in mental ailments than I am for a proper diagnosis, let alone for her to recover."
The doctor paused, no doubt to let his assimilate the horrible news. Little did the good doctor know, but he already knew this bit, and then some. There wouldn't be a recovery from what he had seen in her mind. Everything that was her had been wiped clean, and a simplistic sycophantic persona had been erected in her place. He could even guess who had been the model. Knives would have used only the best for him, as Knives defined "best"- suicidal obedience and worship as a god. He still didn't know what to do about it. The doctor continued.
"Of what I have confirmed, her fallopian tubes were cut, rendering her sterile. The limb weakness is due to Roderick Syndrome, and her appendix was removed, though there was no sign of it being inflamed- it's something of a mystery. She's also had extensive tissue regeneration done, of an impressive level. Had she not pointed out where the incisions were made, I never would have found any. Whoever did this has incredible skills, yet is also highly disturbed."
Well, that was the understatement of the year. "Raving lunatic psycho" could also be used to describe Knives, and also acted as a pretty good reason for doing what he did. Some of it was passingly familiar, some of it not. He'd picked up enough knowledge to know a fair bit about medicine, and while the appendix might be a mystery to the doc, it did fit with what Knives would do- if it had no use, best to remove it. He had already known that Knives had removed the possibility of a child from the equation, so this simply told him the how of the matter. Roderick Syndrome, however, was a new one.
"What's Roderick Syndrome?"
The doctor fidgeted uncomfortably and shoved up his glasses again. "Well, the name is somewhat misleading... It's not actually a disease at all, but we had to call it something on the medical reports. It comes from a few dozen cases found shortly after the Fifth Moon incident, discovered by the ninth fast response mounted regiment. There were too many for them to handle alone, so medical personnel from several other regiments were called in to assist, including myself. Roderick Syndrome was actually a very deliberate severing of certain nerves, preformed by a surgeon in the employ of the Roderick gang, hence the name. The Roderick gang was heavily involved in the slave trade, and the procedure was used to make the slaves more docile for... domestic work."
"She can hardly move herself, let alone push a vacuum around or move a stack of dishes!"
The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Not that sort of domestic work."
It suddenly hit him, and he sagged back as the chair creaked in protest. Sterility, the crippled limbs, the new persona and subtle enlargement, it all fit together into a sickening picture. Knives thought this was all she was to him. Now he had even less of an idea of what to do with her, but he knew with crystal clarity what had to be done with Knives. It didn't even feel remotely bad anymore. Next time they met, one would not leave alive.
"Fortunately, there is some good news. With the exception of the appendix, which isn't of any vital importance, we can reverse everything. However, doing so will require access to more extensive medical facilities, a neurosurgeon, and a great deal of patience."
That was good news. The relief was intense, even if he still had no idea how to relate to her. At least she wouldn't be a cripple for the rest of her days... but then what? He rubbed his temple as a headache began to set in.
"I know this is a lot to take in at once. I would suggest going up on deck, the heat and light should help you relax, but be sure you drink plenty of water as you're still slightly dehydrated."
"I think I will. Thank you, doc."
They shook hands, then he got up and left. He passed another two out cold soldiers as he left the office, one more that was buried under the tap drinking off the wake-up juice, and a few other irate people waiting on the drunks to recover. There was no trouble finding the way up to the deck, but he wasn't the first one up there. A small set of bleary-eyed soldiers dotted the long railing, though the one at the very tip of the steamer's bow was no soldier. The large cross slung over her back attested to that, and the way she stood, slouched with her shoulders drooped down, spoke volumes. The gritty and unfriendly reality was beginning to force itself into her idyllic view- another reason why he was going to place a bullet in the void where Knives should of had a heart. He came up to her quietly as the morning breeze sent her hair swaying.
"Good morning, Mr. Vash."
She hadn't even turned to see who it was. "Good morning, Milly."
He leaned on the railing and looked across the sandy sea. There was a large steamwagon parked below the steamer, two jeeps approaching in the distance, and there were wheel tracks leading off in all directions, the mixture of lines and curves almost artistic. In fact, gazing back, there was someone perched on top of one of the steamer's massive cannons with a sketchpad in hand, looking between the scene below them and the strokes they were making. Why couldn't Knives see them for the richly creative and wonderful people they were? Could one memory at such a young age have truly blinded him to everything good? Tessla had lived and died a tragic life, but that didn't mean he could turn around and do the same to others. Tragedy could strike at any time, and required no malicious hand.
"Here. Meryl wrote it for you."
Milly gave him a folded and crumpled slip of paper. He took it and unfolded the paper, reading down the crumpled lines and slightly crooked characters.
"Vash- If you're reading this, I'm either dead or close to it. There are some things you need to know. First, if I could do it all over again, I'd do a lot of things differently. That 'do everything exactly the same' stuff is a bunch of romantic bullshit. There are many paths to happiness, and this one has had way too many bumps. Don't get me wrong- being with you has been a kind of bliss I would never trade away, but it's been a hard ride, and I guess more than I could handle.
Second, don't you dare let any grief burden you. I've come to this point as a result of the choices I've made, and the results of those choices, both foreseen and unforeseen. That does not change the fact that they were my choices to make, and I will take the consequences of them, both good and bad. If this is where it ends, then so be it. If Knives uses me to force a choice between me and humanity, I will choose humanity, and you should not have regrets over my choice.
Goodbye Vash. Love and Peace.
He gave the slip back to Milly. "It's as much for you as it is for me, I think she didn't mention you to try and keep you safe from Knives, in case he found it."
He squinted into the twin suns as they rose higher. How Meryl had done it, he couldn't be sure, but she had given him the answer yet again. His vision was clear, and he knew exactly what course to take. Meryl was gone, Knives had erased her and put someone new in her place. How life would be for this new Stryfe, he couldn't say. She had more baggage than anyone else new to the world, but ultimately, she would be the one to chose how to live her life. He would help her regain what Knives had stolen, but once that was done, he had to step away. It was nearly hardwired into her to obey him, so she could only make her own choices in his absence.
He took out his gun, flashing brightly in the dawn. He threw up his other arm, watched the arc and shine, every movement, every twist and turn, even the slight drift from the wind. He slipped the Colt back in the holster, then drew it with blinding speed. A sharp ring of metal against metal was sent over the desert. "I'm going to end this, Knives."
The shell casing perched perfectly on the tip of his gun.
Hmm... "Endless Rain of Glass Shards" hell, "Trapped in Elevator With Gaseous Fat Man" hell, "Link's 'Hey, Wissen!' Fairy" hell...
Wolfwood: What are you doing?
Oh, I'm trying to pick out a suitable eternal punishment for Knives for whenever he gets here.
Wolfwood: Well, this "Nonstop Whirlwind of Shit" hell you've got the readers in sounds like a good choice.
Har de har har. Ooh, this one looks good!
Wolfwood: "Get Exactly What You Wanted" hell? Hello! Is your tie too tight or something? We're looking for punishments here!
Oh, that's just because it looks good on the outside. Trust me, if you end up down here, that's the worst of them all. Anyway, gotta cut this short since I've got a honkin' big section for...
betsytheripper: You won't have to do that, mostly since I'm very well versed in the Saotome school of martial arts final attack. ¤runs for the hillsĈ
hope-is-4ever: There will always be hope, as long as there are sneaky authors armed with The Plan™.
Blu: Why'd you have to hurt my head and my stoof? Now I think I'm dain bramaged.
Yma: Ah yes, nothing like a little evil, though I think even the major Knives fans are a tad sickened by this point. Still, I seem to have gotten the exact reaction I was aiming for when I wrote that chapter's ending, so I guess that's a good thing.
cjflutterbye: Well, us artists are known for our X-TREME death defying stunts, so a few flames are all in a day's work. Never fear, there shall be more good times for our heroes. Have faith in The Plan™.
buttercup: She may be down, but she's far from out. Just don't ask a Magic 8-ball anything about Meryl, or Stryfe as the case may be- they seem to explode when you do that.
peridot: A contraction and six words- I've got worse in mind for him.
igbogal: Well, I've been duly flattered. Happy to serve all your heart-twisting needs! Though I don't actually speak Latin- I just know of a translator. I do know some Spanish.
Luneko: Whee! More new people and another marriage proposal! Can't act on it though, as kitsune got number one and there's only one window open. I do apologize for the sleepless night, though the squeeing put some interesting images in my head. You might want to see Blu for thwapping needs over that remark. Now you've been formally inducted into the nuthouse, so feel free to kick back, relax, and gibber to yourself in the lost language of the Incan monkey gods.
kitsune: Well, allow me to apologize early for this new pit of mind-numbing despair for you to crawl out of. However, I shall not lead my loyal readers astray, and I shall deliver you unto the promised land of an ending that shall not suck horribly, though there's probably going to be two more instances of severely depressing plot twists yet to come. At least the next chapter is going to be better!
Aine: Well, short-girl isn't just agreeable, but very agreeable, and Vash suffers even more for it! Talk about twisted... Huh, maybe this is all my way of letting out the stress of getting a house and mortgage...
ReadingWhiz: The yellow-eyed demon is none other than Legato. He's been having a nonstop party down on the sixth circle ever since the last chapter. Pointy hats, pony rides, pin the arm on the outlaw, it's a real bash. I hear all the cool dead villains got invited, and Dracula gate-crashed the event. The Stick may be wielded by anyone with a mastery of Beatdown-fu.
Redcliff: Names are being taken, and Knives has been raking up the bad karma.
Next Chapter: Caught in the midst of the battle between Vash and Knives and pressured from all sides, a few people try to find a place of their own and discover what they can truly be.