This chapter was a tough one which is why I'm sorry for being late. Why? Because when I started writing it, I realized that I had three plots for Olga intersecting at the same time. I had to balance out all three without having one get in the way of the other. It was a large reason why I have to write this out rather than skip past it. Lots of character development opportunity. And all of it at Olga's lowest point too.
Oh, and I'm not a medical professional so I might have gotten some things about dehydration wrong.
Checklist 20: Director Olga Marie Animusphere
Olga sat beneath the harsh sun and glared at the horizon. Not the mirage of green but the general horizon. The empty of anything moving horizon.
"When are they getting here?" She asked the air. "They put me in here, they should be getting me out of here soon!"
The air didn't reply back.
Her stomach did with a growl.
Olga frowned and pulled out her dried fruits. Opening the small container, she frowned at the last few snacks left after Ritsuka and Mash had gone through them in Fuyuki.
"They're late," Olga grumbled as she pulled the last of them out and chewed. Sweetness spread on her tongue and she eagerly swallowed the food down. But her stomach was still empty. Reaching in, she ran her fingers around the edge, hoping that she could find a little more.
No go. The last container was empty.
"And now I'm hungry," Olga complained. "It's been days! Maybe. Why does nothing change here?"
Glaring upwards at the sun which was still overhead in the exact same spot it had been when she had arrived…hours ago? Days ago? There was nothing here that changed! No way to tell if time had passed other than how she felt! It was the creepiest thing she had ever felt!
"Argh! Romani hurry your ass up!" With that complaint, Olga tossed the now useless food container over her shoulder and fumed.
"Stupid Ritsuka." She grumbled. "Giving him my fruits was too good for him. What good did it do me? Nothing. Lev betrayed me and he did nothing! Only cried out after me. Didn't even stop Lev."
If she had known they would leave her waiting this long, she wouldn't have given her dried fruits to Ritsuka and Mash. Then again, it had been so dangerous, facing Archer then Berserker than Saber. It could have been that her fruits made the difference between life and death.
Olga snorted. Of course it hadn't. She had never mattered in anything.
Drawing her knees closer, she rested her chin on top of one stocking knee. "At least he did more than Romani-"
Well, Romani had put her into this place. Saved her from dying, not that this miserable Reality Marble was an improvement.
What was taking Romani so long? Was he even coming? He wouldn't leave her here, would he? Would he?
Of course he wouldn't, Olga assured herself. She was the Director, the head of the Animuspheres. He wouldn't dare to leave her. Like how Lev wouldn't-
Lev.
Olga's throat tightened. Her throat was dry already and this was an uncomfortable sensation. A light pulse in her unceasing headache.
How could Lev betray her like this? It was impossible. But Lev himself had… He had…
Her throat uncomfortably tight, Olga pushed herself up.
Lev had called her incompetent. That the entire debacle was her fault! That he himself had killed her. Annoying!
And that, that-
She gasped, the pressure in her throat and eyes overwhelming. She wasn't crying again. She couldn't be crying again.
She wasn't dead! This was all a bad joke! It had to be, it had to be! She couldn't have messed up so badly that even Lev wanted nothing to do with her anymore!
Impossible! That wasn't Lev! That wasn't the Lev she knew!
"It wasn't him," she choked past the large ball in her throat. "It wasn't Lev. He wouldn't betray-"
Her throat closed up, the words failing to squeeze past the grief materialized into her throat like a cloying bowling bowl.
No, it was true.
Olga collapsed to her knees again, her strength failing her again for the most recent time in the past few hours. Her soggy clothes hanging thick about her, her white hair sticking to her sweaty skin.
Lev had confessed, no, he had bragged about killing her. He had expressed his disappointment in her surviving it. Except, she hadn't survived it.
She had died.
No, that couldn't be true. This was a prank. A joke!
That made more sense. More sense than her only friend Lev betraying her. Romani and Emiya were playing a joke on her. Lying to her face about her being dead. And they had roped Lev into it! Convinced him to join the joke! Romani and Lev had even studied magecraft together. Romani must have used some form of leverage over Lev to pull him into this!
Olga huffed as the anger surged again, a churning in her stomach from outrage and repeated complicated whiplash emotions.
This was not funny! She had not worked so hard through everything, from having rumors spread around her back, to being compared unfavorably with her father's apprentice, to failing to qualify as a Master, to losing her father in 'suicide', to discovering the dirty secrets! She had dealt with the duties of leading the Animpushere family. She had stood alongside the other 11 Lords of the Clock Tower. She had been the one to keep Chaldea running!
And they thought they could play a joke on her!
Olga glared up at the shimmering sun, ignoring the burning in her eyes as her exhausted tear ducts dredged water from her veins to produce more tears.
It wasn't amusing! She would take it out of their hides when she got back! See if Romani would keep his job after this! By the time she would be done with him, he would be lucky to ever have another career! He was always going on about 'her needing to take a break' and 'come and sit down to talk out the grief from Marisbury's death'. As if she had the time! If she had had the time to do arsine requests like that, she would have done something better! She wouldn't have been forced to let go of so many things! She wouldn't have had to sacrifice her own personal research projects in order to preside over the bigger ones! She would have added her own valuable legacy onto the Animuspheres's prestigious history!
Olga's hands tightened, her nails cutting into her palms.
And Lev knew that! He had been working alongside her, the only one who took the responsibilities as seriously as she had! Everyone else had been casual about it. Even slacked! Especially Romani, who she had only kept on because her father gave the greatest of trust to him. More than he had to her even! Where her father had kept her unaware of some projects like the Demi-Servant experiments, Romani had been in the thick of it!
And Lev, Lev knew that! He had always been working hard. Always taking his responsibilities seriously. If she was sacrificing her free time, so was he! If she had to cancel in order to go to a pointless meeting that she couldn't avoid, he was always still up working when she returned! There was no way Lev would play a joke on her!
There was no way! None at all!
None at all.
Olga crumpled to her knees again. The dry ground would stain her clothes.
Lev wouldn't have played a joke on her. He wouldn't have done this cruel prank.
He wouldn't have been Lev if he would.
Which could only mean—it could only mean-
Burying her face in her elbow, a wracking, dry sob escaped Olga's throat.
Lev had truly hated her. He had truly killed her.
She was alone.
Again.
A few hours later, Olga was in better spirits. She didn't need a mirror to know that her eyes were red but she was done with Lev! She wasn't going to deal with Lev anymore! And one day, when she succeeded and everyone realized that she was the one to lead Chaldea to success, Lev would apologize!
For almost killing her.
Olga snarled and punched a nearby sword.
"Ow!" she cried as stinging pain radiated up her hand. Bringing it back, she curled her stinging fist back towards her stomach.
What was it made of metal? Whimpering, she turned to look at it.
Yes, the sword was made of metal. She had punched the flat of the blade and the purplish blade with a red jewel in the hilt hadn't even done her the dignity of taking an indent in response for her taking out her anger that Lev had! Betrayed! Her!
Olga let loose a scream of pure rage and punched it again. This time with the same hand. She had learned from when she had slapped Shirou.
"Whmm," She whimpered as pain shot through her hand.
The agony stoked the flames of her anger. How dare it inflict damage on her! She was Olga Marie Animusphere!
Glaring at the sword, Olga's mind plotted. One white strand of hair fell across her eye. Scowling, she flicked a hand up to remove it.
A gleam shined into her eyes. Olga turned to the source, hoping it was someone finally arriving.
The light was bouncing off another sword. The gleam was the sunlight reflected off the blade. Not as good as a rescue but it also meant no one was watching.
A wolfish grin split her face. Olga stomped over and pulled it out, grunting with the effort.
A claymore. Big. Strong. Heavy. Perfect for her purpose.
"Aaaah!" Olga screamed, the guttural sound offering relief to the stoked molten fury pooled in her stomach. Her feet pounded the earth as she charged back at the sword that had hurt, sword desperately grasped in hands.
"Hyah!" She yelled as she swung the sword down at the powerful blade before her.
CLANG!
Her sword bounced off. Somehow, this expected result only inflamed her more. If her anger was molten fury, now it lit the air itself on fire.
"RRRAGH!" She cried as she recovered and swung the sword down again. Clang! And again. Clang! Again! Clang! Again, again, again! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Clang-schlick!
Olga paused, chest panting, as she realized that her sword was now lighter, not that she had noticed. Her fury was empowering her, giving strength beyond her means.
But the sword she had grabbed was now missing its tip. A tip that was now feet away, lying on the ground like it was meant to be there and not on the sword Olga was using.
"RRGH!" She growled as the rage exploded through her, pushing her anger beyond any emotion she had ever felt before as it writhed through every vein, channel, and circuit. Never had she been so angry!
She swung, body trembling in rage, not caring that every strike was double-sided. Or doing more damage to herself.
"Why! Won't! You! BREAK!" Olga raged as metaphorical fire burned in her hands.
This was barbaric! Swinging a sword like some uncultured swine. Unsuitable for a Lord of the Animusphere family.
She swung her shortening sword again, her only goal, her only thought to make this sword pay for defying her rage!
Olga panted and glared at the purple blade as the shards of her sword lay scattered around the landscape near her feet.
WHY! WOULDN'T! IT! BREAK!
Sure, she could tell it was a Noble Phantasm, she wasn't an idiot! It radiated power, too much for it to be a mere Mystic Code. But she had been hacking away at it like some madwoman! She had sacrificed her dignity! The least the world owed her was some SATISFACTION!
Throwing down the broken hilt, her hands scrapped raw and throbbing from the strain of gripping it so tightly, Olga fell back a few steps. Back slamming against a large kite shield, it collapsed under her weight.
"Yikes!" Olga squeaked as she felt herself fall and bounce the back of her head off of a metal surface. Heart beating rapidly, Olga wheezed in rapid succession as she felt her eyes slowly contract. Then the anger came back.
"Stupid shield!" Olga stormed up to her feet. Spinning around, her tangled hair spun around. She hasn't been able to brush it for over a day! She was tired, she needed a bath, she was hungry and she was done with this!
Drawing her leg back to kick the shield, Olga paused, her blindingly reddish-white rage having abated to mere pulsing in her head and heart.
No, this wouldn't do. All kicking the shield would do is hurt her foot. As much as she would like to kick the shield over the horizon and break that misery inflicting sun, it wouldn't happen.
Huffing, Olga slowly, inch by inch, dropped her foot until it touched down on the brown, cracked dirt. She glared at the shield. Stupid shield. Why couldn't it at least do something useful and give her shade—
Shade. Olga blinked her tired eyes at the shield on the ground in front of her. The large shield.
Excitement and exhaustion swept away her anger like a river sweeping away useless junk. Shade! Scrambling forward, Olga grabbed the shield and pulled it up, setting it up, point down, to provide her with some shadow in this cursed nightless land!
The shield fell over, collapsing with a loud clatter.
Olga stopped and glared at it. Useless shield. How had it stayed up for so long with so little underground? Eying the shield, the parched ground, then the wide land full of other weapons, shields, and armor, Olga huffed and stomped away, her drenched with sweat clothes clammy on her skin.
Why bother? The shield was shorter than her anyway. She'd find a bigger shield somewhere else!
Then once she had secured her environment and established a local base, she'd start preparations for her extraction. Assuming that they ever tried to extract her.
Lord Chaldeas. Olga eyed the large shield with pleasure, on the other side of the hill with Caliburn and Excalibur from where she had first started. The perfect shield. Larger than her, wide, and with plenty of shade to offer. Best of all, it was a product of her Chaldea.
She scowled as she glanced down at the ground. If only it wasn't parallel to the sun! How was she supposed to rest in Lord Chaldea's shadow while it didn't offer any? A few inches wide shade from Lord Chaldea's width wasn't enough for her!
"Stupid Reality Marble," Olga grumbled as she reached out to grab Lord Chaldeas. Her throat ached, the rawness of her emotions having exhausted her throat. "Why can't you actually be convenient?"
Her throat rubbed raw from simply speaking, she decided to hold back. She didn't like feeling like she was rubbing sandpaper down it. She was having a bad enough day already.
Hands on the shield she had named, Olga twisted.
"Oof!" She huffed as the heavy, heavy shield resisted her effort. Glaring, Olga mouthed off to it. 'Figures that you'd be as easy to move as the rest of Chaldea.'
Seriously, why couldn't Chaldea just shut up and obey her? She wouldn't be in this predicament if they did. But she made it this far, she wouldn't give up!
Twisting the shield, to put it perpendicular to the sun, her exhausted and starved muscles strained and groaned. Inch by slow inch, the shield dug up furrows through the ground as it rotated, degree by painful degree. This was much harder than when she had carried it after Mash had been beaten by Berserker!
With a final push and pull, Olga stopped and bent over, keeping on her feet but resting her hands on her knees. Her arm muscles were burning almost as much her throat felt raw. Her clothes felt absolutely disgusting after such hard labor. If she got back, she'd take these off and immediately burn them. There was no redemption for such.
Gasping for breath, Olga cast her eyes up at the shield and its now wide shadow. A few specks of dirt crumbled near the base.
Olga had only a moment to widen her eyes. Before the whole heavy shield fell like a giant cedar, slow, lumbering, and undoubtedly heavy.
With the last dredges of effort remaining in her spent body and spirit, Olga jumped back, seeking to escape the collapse before it crushed her like paste.
CLANG!
Olga stared at the heavy shield. Which was now on the ground. Where she'd have to pick it up.
"RAAAARGH!" She threw back her head and screamed, the additional agony in her throat now insignificant compared to the burning of her muscles, the frustration in her heart and the smoldering embers of her anger and rage.
Why did this always have to happen to her!
Olga slowly woke up, the bright light of day rousing her to action. Bleary eyed, Olga blinked, her eyelids heavy.
Her coffee. Where was her coffee? She couldn't smell her coffee. And why wasn't her alarm going off?
Drudgingly, like she was slowing moving through a sludge of heavy mud that was pressing down on her every move, her right arm rose up to block out the sun.
She squinted. It didn't work. The light was too bright. Her hand didn't make much difference. The light just shone everywhere, even when she would rather it didn't. Was this a new wake-up method she had installed?
"Uuurgh," Olga groaned through a throat and mouth as dry as the Sahara desert. Why was she here and not in her comfortable bed? She had made sure her bed was the highest quality she could get, importing it from the most prestigious of craftsmen. She would rather be there than here.
But duty calls and responsibility waits on no one. Probably why she was waking up like this now. Even if she felt like her clothes had been turned into a bath but failed to make it onto her skin. Did someone replace her pajamas with a sweat-heavy, utterly sticky mess?
Yuck, she could smell it. Why did the maids and laundry have to mess up this horribly? She'd fire them all. They deserve it for such gross incompetence!
Eyes still fastened shut by sleep and crust, Olga stumbled up, her heavy clothes clinging to her skin like messy syrup. Why was she so hungry? She was in the mood for a double breakfast. No, she shouldn't. She was on a carefully chosen, highly nutritious diet since she didn't have the time to keep up her old exercise routine. Another thing she had sacrificed. But becoming fat would just be horrible and incredibly demeaning.
Could she snack on fruits in between meetings? If she could, she would need to grab a new box. She was feeling really hungry. She'd go through her current supply if she didn't get something to eat soon.
Hand blindly clutching for her desk and the director's comm on it-
Where was it? And why did her desk feel like packed earth instead of the priceless mahogany she preferred?
Olga twisted her sore back to where her desk should be and with great effort equivalent to that of Atlas holding up the sky, she opened her eyes.
To parched brown ground in the shadow of a large black stone sword instead of her pleasantly adorned room with her favorite bed. Beneath her was her jacket and the outermost white layer of her dress, doing a pathetic job as bedsheets but too heavy and hot for her to sleep in. If she didn't have her pride, she would have taken off more layers as even now she felt uncomfortably overheated. Above her, a sun remorselessly pushed light and heat onto her, not caring that she would prefer an air conditioner.
A Reality Marble.
Olga nearly crumpled, only barely catching herself as she remembered yesterday and the miserable excuse for a day before and the horrible day before that.
Singularity F. The bomb. Lev. Her failure. Her death.
No, she couldn't be dead! She couldn't be! She existed! She wasn't a ghost, an imprint of psychic energy! She couldn't be!
Except, her body was gone. Her spirit should be on its way back to the Root for reincarnation. Instead, she was sheltered in this forsaken, blasted REALITY MARBLE!
How had HR failed to detect a Reality Marble in one of her employees? She'd have an epic scolding for Department Head Drake about this!
Drake was dead. As was the rest of her carefully chosen elite staff.
Olga's throat tightened. The greatest debacle for Chaldea had just occurred. And it was under her watch. Conducted by the man she trusted the most in the world. No, the one person she had put her complete trust in. She trusted Lev more than she did her own father.
Wait, could it be?
Olga's heart paused in its descent back down into the blackest depths of despair.
Lev. She knew Lev like no one else did. Could Lev be running a double agent plan? Could it be that Lev arranged for the entire sequence of events? What if there was a traitor on her staff and to flush them out, Lev had killed them all? But as the only way to do so would mean hurting her, he made sure she was sent to the Singularity?
But why would he pretend to kill her? What if the traitor, the real traitor, was still alive? So he had to play along, pretending to kill her—No, that didn't make sense. Wiping out Chaldea to get rid of one traitor? Lev knew better. Chaldea had defenses against traitors. If Lev suspected a traitor, he would have examined the staff until he found the traitor. And even if he couldn't, he would have told her.
But that wouldn't explain why he would try to kill her. If she died, Chaldea would fall. Especially as ownership of Chaldea would be divided up by the Animusphere and the Clock Tower, those treacherous snakes who would tear apart her father's treasured legacy.
So why would he try to kill her? There was no motive, unless… unless he thought that Chaldea was a threat to the future of mankind.
CHALDEAS, completely red, flashed through her memory and Olga could feel her throat contract in fear.
Red. A technical failure. But that had never happened and the programming and magecraft involved was impeccable. Nothing less would do for predicting the future of humanity. Even then, every test, every failure to read CHALDEAS had never produced that state of red. That looked like CHALDEAS couldn't even find the Human Order. Which was impossible. Even when humanity had vanished from 2018, it hadn't gone red. It had just gone dark, as it was programmed to. So it couldn't be that the Human Order had died because that would have just been dark, not red.
So what had happened? Finding and fixing the cause of CHALDEAS's error should be a top priority! And she couldn't because she was trapped here!
Olga gritted her teeth as her anger finished waking her up.
Stupid Lev! She didn't have time for this! Stupid Romani! She needed to be out of here already! Stupid Ritsuka! Why did she have to depend only on a third-rate and Mash Kyrielight for Singularity F? If Lev hadn't interfered, she could have dealt with Singularity F with the A-Team!
Unless A-Team was the problem? But if so, a weaker bomb would have dealt with them. And there would have been no need to wipe out the Command Room staff and watchers.
Olga rammed both hands into her tangled and filthy hair and screamed. "Argh!"
Ow! Pain shot through her throat like a thrashing rat's claws and she cut off her scream.
This didn't make sense! Lev wouldn't betray her without a good reason and the actions he took didn't make sense!
Unless, unless.
A terrible, terrible thought occurred to Olga.
Unless she was the threat to humanity.
No, not possible. She would know if she was a danger to humanity. She would know! She only sought the continuation of the Human Order! She would do nothing that would harm the future! There was no way she would be the threat!
Right?
She couldn't be such a screw-up that she would be the one to destroy the human future, right?
Every failure in her life came back to life. Born too late, born to Father's second wife after his first was found infertile and she died. Every spell she had failed. Her inability to be a Master. Not Rayshift compatible. Unable to bear the metaphysical weight of a familiar. Her untrustworthiness to the point that Father wouldn't even bother to inform her of everything going on in Chaldea. Her lack of talent compared to Kirschtaria.
Olga stumbled back, coming to lean against the stone slab. This object was so heavy and solid that even her weight couldn't disturb it.
It was true, wasn't it? She was the threat to humanity.
That could be the only reason why Lev would turn on her like this. Why he would try to kill her. It wasn't because he hated her or wanted to betray her.
Olga hung over a chasm. On one side was the horrible idea that she was the danger and cause for humanity vanishing. The other was that Lev had hated her.
She didn't know which was worse. Unless-
"It was for humanity's sake, right, Lev?" Olga whispered past dry lips. "Not because you hated me?"
Unless he both hated her and wanted to preserve humanity by killing her. That would be the one thing she couldn't handle.
"Please, I'll remove myself from power," Olga begged the uncaring sky, hoping that her plea would reach the Counter Force from inside this human Reality Marble. "I'll quit from being director. Just save humanity and return Lev to me. I'll do anything."
It was silent. The Counter Force did not respond.
"Please, I'll surrender my-" Olga choked before she could offer up her Crest. She couldn't do that. That would be spitting on her ancestors' work! Thousands of years of effort. She couldn't sacrifice that! Her life should be lost before her Crest!
But wouldn't that mean that Kirschtaria would be the better choice? Wouldn't her father's favored apprentice manage better than she? Everyone knew it. She had just been in denial. She was the heir after all. Her father trusted her, he had passed on the responsibilities of the Animusphere family and responsibility of Chaldea to her, not anyone else.
But what if Father was wrong? The old thought slithered through her mind. He had done horrible things. What if his decision to trust her was another?
The evidence mounted. CHALDEAS. Singularity F. Her staff. Her Masters. Her life. Each a boulder, no, a rockslide she was bearing.
The pressure was insurmountable, squeezing down on her like a god's hand. As heavy as the ocean at the bottom of the Marina trench.
"I'll pass on my Crest," Olga gave up.
Olga wandered in a daze, her rapid breath the only sound.
Her sacrifice hadn't been accepted. Bargains with the Counter Force was a last-ditch option anyway. And she had nothing it wanted either, nothing that it couldn't get by replacing her.
Her feet climbed, one foot rising higher than the other, her already fast breath turning intense as she struggled to find the air to keep on moving.
It was actually something that Father had been counting on. As long as Chaldea acted to preserve humanity, the Counter Force would aid and abet Chaldea. After all, it would be much easier to act through a powerful organization than to summon a Counter Guardian.
But the Counter Force didn't respond.
Hunger, thirst and fatigue blanketed her thoughts like dense fog in London. Numbness soaked her mind from the unrelenting weight of everything that had been lost. Everything that had been lost because of her.
Olga's feet stopped as her burning eyes blinked before the three swords on the hill came into focus.
Excalibur. Excalibur Morgan. Caliburn.
She had heard Shirou Emiya's words when he had saved her and used his Noble Phantasm. Somehow, the former Master of Saber had the right of a king. To wield the sword of Selection, the sword that had determined the next king of Britain.
But how? Shirou was clearly not the king of Britain. She would have known if she had an heir or a claimant to the British throne in her Chaldea. And if Caliburn was a Noble Phantasm, it could only be wielded by the Heroic Spirit in question. But she could feel the power of a Noble Phantasm pressing on her and Shirou Emiya had clearly demonstrated the ability to use it as a Noble Phantasm.
The world swayed and Olga staggered, her feet managing to keep her upright. No, not the world, herself. Her own balance was as stable as a paper airplane in a storm.
However, Olga was in a Reality Marble. The fact seemed to come out of a rabbit hole hidden in her mist of exhaustion. Rules that guided humanity didn't always work in these places. It could very well be that anyone could wield a Noble Phantasm here. Or it could just be that only Shirou Emiya could.
But why would a mere technician be so special? And if a Japanese technician could call on Caliburn, then maybe… Just maybe Olga could as well. She was much more important than a mere technician after all.
"Please," Olga whispered through cracked lips. Her dry tongue darted out to moisten them but couldn't as they both lacked even the slightest hint of saliva. "Please let me see."
Her hands, red from sunburn and blotched with dark spots shakily reached out.
She was weak. She wasn't strong enough. She had been through too much.
But she wanted to see if she had the qualities needed to lead Chaldea. No, not wanted, she needed to. Surely, surely if she could lead Chaldea, then this sword would respond.
Her palm landed on the warm hilt of Caliburn. Her trembling fingers curled.
Her distant heart pummeled in her ears. She could do this. The sword wasn't rejecting her. She could pull it out and prove, once and for all that she was capable of leading Chaldea!
She pulled.
The inch of sword in the packed dirt didn't move.
Olga stared before pulling again, all of her pathetic strength going into budging the sword. You couldn't be a king or leader half-heartedly, right? Only an idiot would be a half-hearted leader. Obviously, the sword wouldn't respond to a partial effort. Right?
It was like moving a boulder or a world.
"Urgh!" Olga reached past her limits, focusing her meager strength, groaning at the strain, the fatigued burn of muscles. She had to succeed here! She had no choice but to! Please!
Caliburn ignored her.
With one last, desperate surge she pulled!
Her hands slipped off the hilt. A sense of vertigo as she tumbled backwards, her pull putting her off-balance.
'No,' Olga mentally whimpered as she sprawled across the ground. Beaten. Defeated. Unworthy.
A thought, no, a fact, tried to fight its way through her mental fog of exhaustion and now dark clouds of depression but she didn't let it. She already knew the truth. This was just the clincher.
She wasn't fit to be a leader. She wasn't fit to lead Chaldea. She had never been.
She was nobody.
Olga lay underneath the only shade in this blighted land and stared up.
27 gears. She had counted. She wasn't able to count all the spokes but there were 27 gears in the sky. 1 spoke, 2 spokes, 3 spokes, 4…
She came back to herself, her mind having blanked out again watching the gears. Time didn't pass here nor did it matter. The only indication of time was the 27. They moved according to time, or she guessed. Maybe they moved just because they could and were random about it. Some gears were faster than others. Or maybe it was just her drifting in and out of consciousness.
There were no animals, no plants here. A land of silence really. A land where her lungs and her heartbeat was the only sound.
A dead world. Fitting for a person like her. Someone who deserved to be dead.
Olga blankly looked up at the sky.
She had responsibilities. She was the director of Chaldea. The work never ended. She ought to get up and get to work. Make preparations for the challenges after Singularity F's resolution. Countermeasures to prevent Lev or whoever was involved from doing even more damage.
But she didn't. Why should she? It wasn't like anything she could do would matter.
Olga looked up at the sky, the gears churning under the cruel light of the sun.
She didn't care.
She didn't, couldn't, feel anything. Just numb.
Her eyes closed.
.
After finishing off another pile of documents about the repair reports, Romani leaned back and sighed.
Ritsuka and Mash were fine. Their vital signs corresponded to them being bored but then again, they had been inside the Reality Marble for about a day now. At least they had enough supplies that they would be able to hold out for a week.
"Go fish," the audio channel conveyed in Ritsuka's voice.
Romani ignored the game the two were playing and that he wished he could do instead of all this. But he couldn't turn it off. He needed the audio open in case Olga took a turn for the worse and they needed medical advice ASAP. It would only take one command to take his side off mute.
Not that he was sure they could do much. If things really went bad, they would need more medical technology than they could quickly get. But on the other hand, Olga was just lying there, alive and slowly regaining strength. Not much could happen to her while she was unconscious and isolated. And Da Vinci hadn't detected other major problems in her brief diagnosis.
Romani made a face. But there was also another issue. Olga had been high-strung and working hard for the last several years, ever since her father had died. She had been long overdue for a break even before Singularity F was discovered. Honestly, Roman didn't think she had had time to adjust to her father's death. Even while preparations for the funeral was underway, Olga had immediately gone to working long hours with all the effort she could muster. Just putting off the problem and busying herself in other things rather than confront her father's death.
Not that it was a bad way to cope, Romani would admit. Putting it off would spread the effort of recovering from grief over a longer period of time, slowly letting the person adjust to life without a loved one. And years had passed since then so she probably had come to terms with Marisbury's death and her own grief by now.
But if overwork was how Olga dealt with grief, then she might be in trouble now. She was stuck in Shirou's Reality Marble. On enforced bedrest, no less and without anything else for her to do. No work, no Chaldea, no meetings at the Clock Tower or reports to the U.N. or politicking, or anything really.
And Lev's betrayal was a sore blow. One that even Romani was dealing with and he had only barely trusted the man! Sure, they were, no, had been friends but they hadn't been close friends.
But Olga trusted Lev completely, Romani winced. Not to mention the other problems beside Lev's betrayal, of which there were plenty. Chaldea had been gutted, the Masters paused in the drop down the precipice of death, almost all senior management killed, and to top it off, Olga herself had been killed by the person she trusted the most.
Romani tapped his fingers on the desk in thought even as he idly perused a new document. How would Olga react to this? Her grieving method was to busy herself and distract herself from the issue. But she couldn't anymore. In Unlimited Blade Works, there wasn't any work to do.
Romani winced as he realized what the intersection of the two meant. Olga needed to grieve and her usual method wasn't possible. Which meant that Olga would need to find another way, a new way, to grieve and adjust. So what method would she use?
Romani paused. Then in a flurry of motion and clumsiness, maybe he should get some sleep? How about after this worry was resolved with a tentative solution.
Romani grabbed his digital record in a flurry, opened a notepad document, and with just a single moment of hesitation, wrote down the worst-case scenario he could think of.
Suicide.
Tapping his stylus against his cheek, Roman stared at the word. If Olga was broken to the point that she wanted to die, not entirely unreasonable considering the last week, how could they stop her? Ritsuka and Mash were there right now. But with the additional Singularities they had found and Ritsuka being their most experienced Master right now, eventually they would need to go and leave Olga alone. Alone in a world full of blades.
Memory of the dry landscape where weapons were as plenteous as the sands of the sea or the stars in the sky rose from his tired memory. A land of graves marked by weapons of war.
Yeah, slitting her wrist or throat would be too easy for Olga, Romani frowned. The environment there was literally the worst possible place for preventing suicide. A suicide watch wouldn't be able to form. They just didn't have the manpower or ability to keep an eye on her at all times and the budget wouldn't allow it.
Could Shirou do something? Possible, Romani concluded, but Shirou was a novice in regard to his Reality Marble. What he could and couldn't do was something that Shirou would need to figure out. Shirou already knew how to pull blades out and put weapons in as well analyze them, not to mention do brief manifestations of the whole of the Reality Marble, but what else could he do? Reality Marbles were highly personalized, what one person could do with one, another might not be able to do at all. Learning how to use a Reality Marble well was a journey of self-discovery. It wasn't like being given a Noble Phantasm with its inbuilt instruction manual like how a Servant knew how to use their boosted legendary artifacts.
Admittedly, Shirou had made remarkable progress over the last few days in regard to Unlimited Blade Works. But if Romani was going to go by his hunch, he would guess that Shirou's Reality Marble wasn't too concerned about avoiding killing. The sheer abundance of weapons exposed and ready to be used indicated that the Reality Marble could kill anyone, let alone anyone who was inside of it.
Also, Shirou needed to sleep. If Olga was awake while Shirou was asleep, would Shirou be able to stop Olga from committing suicide?
Maybe, Romani shrugged. But at that point it would be subconscious decisions. Or maybe even like a dream to Shirou. Can't really count on someone remembering a conversation about preventing suicide while their mind is asleep. Best not to depend on it.
No, if Olga was to avoid suicide, Romani would need to come up with something. But what?
Romani spun around in his chair, mentally designating the work in front of him to be dealt with later, and faced the wall.
The work never ended. But Olga's life might. And he would not let that happen. He was a screw-up but he wouldn't give up on a life without a fight.
Getting up, Roman started pacing and muttering to himself.
"Suicide watch by means of LAPLACE or TRIMEGISUTUS? No, Olga is the director. If she ordered it, the two would stand by and allow her to die. Can't rely on that. Assign someone to keep an eye on her vital stats and always be there to converse? How would we get a communication device to her? Rayshift is too expensive and when the person leaves, so does everything they brought with them. Manifesting Shirou's Reality Marble won't let us bring new stuff in. Wait, Shirou copies swords. Could we build a communication device that Shirou could copy? Except, hmm, it would have to be a sword while being a communication device. Is that even possible? I mean, it would either be a sword or a communication device, but both at the same time? I don't think anyone has ever built something like that before. Something to talk about with Da Vinci, I suppose. I haven't the slightest idea about how that would work. Wait, wouldn't the communication device need to reach outside of the Reality Marble? Yeah, it would be pointless if transmission wouldn't even be able to leave Shirou. And don't they need power or something? Well, write that down for Da Vinci."
Writing sword-communication device? Even possible? Power source? on the note under suicide, Roman continued brainstorming.
"Got any twos, Senpai?"
"Ahh, you beat me."
"Sorry, Senpai."
"Don't apologize. You won fair and square. Here, you can have, uh, is there a sword that you want?"
"Umm, err. How about…" a moment of silence like someone was looking around at something. "The knife?"
"The butter knife? That is a butter knife, right? The really small one."
"I'm not sure which one you are pointing to. How about, that knife, the umm, carving knife?"
"Is that what it is? The curved one? That is medium length?"
"I think so?" the feminine voice was hesitant.
"Eh, we can ask Shirou later. I think I know which one you picked. Sure, I'll go get it."
"I can go get it."
"Nah, I lost so I'll go get it."
A quiet rasp and scrap as textiles rubbed against each other and the ground. A sound of pops like the male was stretching. Then the clops of boots hitting ground getting softer and quieter as the person moved away.
Olga's dry eyes blinked before shutting again.
Dark for once. The sun wasn't shining in. and the only source of light came from one direction. Forcing her sealed and dry lips apart, Olga coughed, relieving her throat of the discomfort she was feeling there.
"Director Animusphere?" The female voice was surprised. Wait, Olga knew that voice. It was Mash Kyrielight. The designer baby, the only Demi-Servant experiment survivor.
The one that might be, no should be hiding a grudge against her, waiting for the right moment to strike.
And Olga was alone with her.
Odd that there was no fear, Olga noted almost clinically. She really should be. Mash Kyrielight was now a Demi-Servant, one of the most powerful beings in Chaldea. And Olga was on the verge of death. Last she remembered, she had just been waiting for it to finally take her. Odd that she was still alive.
It was also odd that she was so numb about all this. Was she under some form of mental interference? Or would it be closer to emotional interference? Or was she still numb to everything?
Olga kept her eyes closed, waiting for the strike. Mash would end her now and get revenge. Get her revenge for being experimented on, for being imprisoned, for having no family, no life, no purpose in life beyond answering an unethical question.
"Are you awake? Are you okay?" Mash's voice washed over Olga, some weird form of caring in her voice. Ah, her Master must be within eyesight or hearing. That would explain the continued act. The Command Seal would be able to kill her if she tried to act on her buried desire for revenge. Not to mention the social pressure of murdering someone in front of someone else would be a small deterrent. "Director?"
"Did something happen?" Ritsuka Fujimaru's voice sounded.
"I thought she had woken up," Mash responded now with some uncertainty. "I thought I had heard something but she isn't responding so I must have been wrong."
The light went darker like a shadow had gotten between her and the light. Footsteps from the direction of the light until they came to a stop beside her and the light was again back.
"Is she the type to wake up slowly?" Ritsuka asked.
"I don't know," That had to be a frown. It sounded like a frown. But it didn't elicit any response from Olga. Just more of the weird apathy she was feeling. Or not feeling which may be a better term. "I never saw the director in the morning like this before."
"I suppose that makes sense," Ritsuka agreed. "Advantage of Chaldea's private rooms like that is that if you need coffee to wake up, you can get your own pretty easily. Maybe it takes her a while to wake up?"
"Maybe," Mash obviously didn't know. Olga didn't care to enlighten her about her morning habits. Actually, Olga didn't care about anything at all. Not even the unusual lack of irritation that they were discussing her like this. Her private habits were hers alone.
"Well, she was on the brink of death so we should just let her sleep?" Sound of headscratching through hair. "The uh, the bag isn't empty, right?"
"The drip chamber is still fine," Mash reported after a second. "Fluid is still dripping at the prescribed rate and no sign of infection, swelling, redness or blood at the insertion spot. Her skin turgor has improved though, it is no longer "
Olga kept her eyes shut. With Ritsuka watching, Mash wouldn't kill her right now. But they'd abandon her soon enough, casting her aside as they must oh-so-secretly wish to.
As her mind returned from the unawareness of slumber, Olga could feel an intense pressure in her lower stomach. Her bladder was full.
The human need to relieve herself was enough to rouse her from the comforting darkness of unawareness, where she could not exist and be an embarrassment to the Animusphere name. But even she was not a filthy savage who would urinate in her own bedding. She might be nothing but she wasn't a barbarian.
But it was odd how she hadn't needed to relieve herself over the last few days…
Oh yes. She was dead. Odd how that didn't seem so important right now. Had she adjusted to having been killed already? Or had the last few days of losing her mind affected how she viewed her recent demise?
Olga opened her eyes, blinking as she saw an oddly tilted roof.
"Director?" the boy, Ritsuka, that was his name, asked in surprise.
"Director Animusphere?" Olga's tired heart jumped a few beats as Mash's voice sounded. Her dry eyes spun as she shifted them to look to the side.
There was some kind of stand with a bag of liquids on it and Mash sitting behind it, with a flat, nearly empty bag identical to the full one on the stand in her hands. Olga's eyes followed the tube from the small stand down to the ground where it curved and trailed up to her arm.
Where it entered her arm, plastic tube connecting to her vein next to a dark bunched up splot on her skin.
"Don't move, please Director," Mash quickly requested before Olga could do anything. "If you dislodge it, we run the risk of infection. I think. I'm not sure if bacteria even exist here though, so that might not be a risk."
"Didn't the textbook say something about 'infiltration'?" Ritsuka asked. "Like our first attempt at putting it into the vein?"
"Yes, her moving around too much could cause the needle to be dislodged again," Mash nodded. "If it is dislodged, the fluids could enter somewhere other than the veins and that would be a problem. Especially as we are limited in medical equipment right now."
"Take-" Olga coughed, her dry throat objecting to its use.
"Do you want something to drink?" Ritsuka offered, digging through a bag she hadn't noticed.
"Coffee," she rasped. They could take the needle or whatever it was out of her after she had something to drink.
"You're not allowed any caffeinated drinks," Mash ordered. "Doctor's orders."
"You were severely dehydrated," Ritsuka added as he pulled out a bright yellow fluid in a bag. "Here, some juice. Orange, I think."
Her thirst had her fix upon the liquid like it was the solution to all her worries. But she wanted coffee!
"Coffee," she ordered again with a horrible rasp in her voice.
"Director!" Romani's voice suddenly came from Ritsuka's wrist. Glancing down, Olga could see a communicator on his wrist. "You're awake!"
She glared. She wanted coffee! She needed coffee to wake up!
But did she really want to wake up? Why not go back to the comforting place where she wasn't a dismal failure?
Her legs itched so she twitched. As she did, the reason for waking up, the tightness, reminded her. She needed to go to the bathroom first. But she was so thirsty.
Ritsuka placed the juice into her hand and with shaking effort, she raised it up to her lips, ignoring Romani's blatherings.
The liquid spilled into her cavern, hitting a place as dry as the desert she was in. The liquid sloshed around, depositing moisture where she had none. Sweetness joined the wonderful sensation of water as it slid over her tongue like a masterpiece silk dress. The river of juice poured down her throat seeking a stomach that roused itself for its first guest and victim in days.
The waterfall stopped. Olga blinked as she returned to herself, her mind no longer focused on the sensation of liquid.
Had orange juice always been so amazing, so delicious? Or had this orange juice been the best orange juice in the world? Real world, not this one.
But the reaction of her stomach reminded herself of where that liquid would come out and the pressure in her bladder was already increasing.
"-and we have repaired-" Romani was still talking.
"Bath-" Speaking was easier now but still an effort. Mustering up energy, she croaked out. "Bathroom."
Mash and Ritsuka looked at her then at each other.
"I'll uh, go take a look on the other side of the hill," Ritsuka suddenly stood up and fled out the opening in the stone tipi. Looking out through it, Olga could see that she was still in the same hopeless wasteland of a Reality Marble. A fitting place for her.
"I'll find something to do," Roman changed his tact and verbally fled, leaving Mash alone with the director.
"Um, I guess I'll help," Mash's face looked pinched and her body language radiated intense discomfort. Good. At least Olga wasn't the only one suffering in this utter indignity.
It was after the incident which shall not be talked about. Mash returned Olga back to her home and then told Roman who had told him to return so they could begin the discussion.
"Why haven't I been taken out yet?" Olga demanded weakly. Despite being on IV for two days now, she was still weak after waking up from her short coma.
Ritsuka looked to Mash who looked back at him. He didn't want to be the one to say it.
"Well," Roman took the burden of delivering the bad news. "We can't."
Olga's eyes narrowed as she glared at Ritsuka. At the moment, Ritsuka wished that his communicator wasn't the one that Romani wasn't speaking through.
"Explain." She demanded.
"You see, we were hoping that we could move you into a puppet body but a complication, actually two of them, emerged," Roman was talking fast as if he was worried that he would soon be fired if he didn't excuse himself soon. "Shirou Emiya doesn't have the ability to transfer you out. It is incompatible with his origin and element and his circuits wouldn't be able to take the strain. Furthermore, he doesn't know how to take you out. His only methods of accessing the Reality Marble are intellectual, some variation on Projection with a copying aspect, and manifesting through a Bounded Field now."
"Then how did you get here?" Olga asked, weakly flopping her hand in Ritsuka's and Mash's direction. "If he can't take me out himself, then how did these two get in?"
"You're not going to like it," Roman warned.
"Romani." Her eyes seemed to harden and gleam in irritation but it was…dull. Like she was only doing a half-hearted effort or going through the motion.
Roman took a breath.
"We Rayshifted them," Roman divulged sullenly like a kid waiting to be grounded.
"Roma-!" Olga shrieked before hacking.
"Here," Mash pulled out some juice and put it to Olga's lips. The director greedily drunk from the juice pack like it held the elixir of life.
"We tried to get Shirou to manifest but he was struggling to understand Bounded Fields," Roman sped through the information in order to take advantage of Olga's enforced silence. "His Reality Marble was complete but he lacked the ability to manifest it. Fortunately, Da Vinci was able to get him through the process to the point he can manifest now but it is still rough. Even with all the supplements we could get him, he was only able to hold for one minute, just long enough for Da Vinci to do a prognosis on you. He would need an extraordinary magical energy source to power and hold the transition from reality to Reality Marble."
"So it's Shirou's fault," Olga concluded as Mash pulled the juice away. Olga's stomach was small from not eating or drinking anything for days so they couldn't overfeed her or she would throw it all up.
"More like a rough draft thesis," Roman disagreed. "He was finished but needed to go through and put a title page on it and edit it. Now he has a complete draft but he needs to go through and refine it so it isn't full of errors. Once he gets practice and experience, he will be able to hold the Reality Marble much, much longer and utilize it more effectively."
"Why did he-" Olga broke off with a frown. "What resources did he demand as compensation and to finish?"
"None, we actually didn't realize until we were dealing with the problem of how to get food and drink to you. Before that, we all assumed we would have time to solve this problem," Roman's voice was haunted. "In all of our defenses, the situation at the end of the First Order didn't offer us the luxury of thought and second-guessing."
"Then what was the problem that needed you to do an illegal Rayshift that will have us all hosting an inquisition?" Olga acidly demanded. If it was a weak acid given the lack of strength in her voice.
"Keeping you alive," Roman answered bleakly. "You need food and water to survive as you recently discovered. Even so, you slipped into a coma. It was a pretty close call."
"Why not take me out?" Olga demanded. "I know the regulations, Romani Archaman. Getting me into the infirmary should be the first thing you did."
"Because we can't. Even if Shirou was able to keep the Reality Marble up long enough for us to perform a ritual or invoke a Mystery, the second problem is more difficult to overcome," Roman took a deep breath in. "We lack a puppet body to put you into."
Silence.
"How?" Olga asked. Ritsuka frowned. It was bleak, like the fiery director was full of despair and ashes instead of her usual fire. "We restocked all supplies when bringing in the Masters. We topped off all reserves and supplies, even got extra reservoirs of consumables and medicines set apart. I spent days making sure of that."
"That is Da Vinci's fault," Roman threw the Servant under the bus. "She went and used the entire stock of puppet bodies to renovate her appearance. She put in a requisition form and the tracking report has the replacements at the base which is at the foot of the mountain."
"Then get it up here," Olga sighed. "Honestly, even you should be able to do that. A drunk monkey could have done it."
"Which leads into an unrelated problem," Roman told her. "We can't get in contact with them. We can't get in contact with anyone by any means. U.N., Mage's Association, even the other bases. I would have guessed that something happened at the supply base but we can't even get signals from satellites."
"Communication equipment malfunction?" Olga frowned. "Or was it sabotage?"
"Probably the second," Roman answered. "Before the First Order and the bombs going off, Shirou was able to have a phone call back to his home about putting flowers on his sister's grave. Given that he was controlled by Lev, I would put it as a false flag, a possible false memory. Or perhaps he made that call and then destroyed it. But there is literally nothing wrong with the communications equipment. I've had everyone go over it, independently and as a group. It works as it is supposed to, or it did until Da Vinci made some improvements and now it works even better at contacting no one. But the back-ups work in the same way."
Mash seemed to tense as to brace for an explosion. But nothing of the sort happened.
"Figure it out Romani," Olga closed her eyes as she gave the order in a dull tone.
"Director, are you okay?" Roman asked worriedly. "This isn't like you."
"I'm dead, Romani," Olga bit back. Ritsuka could just imagine that she would have snarled but somehow the fire was absent. It was disturbing to see the Director who had burned brightly and even able to give support to the clash of Servants sound like she was waving the white flag in despair. "Not even medical science can save me. And as you said, you can't save me because you don't have anywhere to put my spirit. So unless you can pull out a Third Magician from somewhere, I'm stuck here in a Reality Marble that will be the death of me. Why did you even put me in here?"
"Because it was the only option," Roman said grimly answering the question for which Olga realized the answer. "It was either this or death."
"And I am already dead," was Olga's response as she stared up at the ceiling. "Worse than that, I'm a waste of space, not even worth a percent of the expense of a single Rayshfit let alone the efforts to explain it."
"You're not!" Ritsuka protested, the words pouring up from his heart. "Saving your life isn't worthless!"
"Then what value do I have?" Olga turned to glare at him. Ritsuka could read irritation but also loathing in that look. "I'm the director who let Chaldea fall. It was because of me that Chaldea is gone. I was the one who trusted Lev and gave him everything he wanted and he used that to destroy us so thoroughly that you survivors will be scattered to the four corners of the earth."
"Because you're alive and with us," Ritsuka pointed out the simple fact.
"I'm dead, you idiot!" Olga snapped. "Wake up from your idyllic life to reality. I'm dead and as soon as Chaldea is impounded for illegal Rayshifts, I'll slip back into a coma from thirst and die again."
"Not if you talk to the Association and U.N.," Roman encouraged. "If you do-"
"Nothing will change because I can't and it wouldn't matter anyway," Olga closed her eyes. "If you want someone else in charge, put forth a proposition to the Mage's Association and hope you have something to offer."
"But that is what you excel at, Director," Mash responded. "You are the only one the Association and U.N. will listen to."
"They don't," Olga shut down bluntly.
"They'll listen to you more than to us," Roman supported Mash's argument.
"Not when they learn I'm dead," Olga disagreed.
"All we need to do is get the other base to ship the puppets to us," Ritsuka urged. "Then you'll be alive."
"You can't Rayshift a puppet body," Olga was visibly giving up. No, had she already given up? It seemed incredible to Ritsuka but she looked like she had abandoned all hope. "It lacks a spirit so it won't bond to Spiritrons. And if it did have a spirit, you couldn't transfer me into it."
"What if we use a Coffin?" Ritsuka asked.
"That experiment failed," Olga turned her head to look at him. "Just give up already. You're not even a third-rate magus."
"I won't," Ritsuka told her. "I don't want to see someone die, much less you, Olga."
"You'll deal with it," Olga turned back to the peak of the sword tipi. "What can you do?"
"I'll do something," Ritsuka promised. "Just stay alive until then."
"That is literally the problem. I'm not alive and I can't stay alive. Your efforts are pointless," Olga rolled her eyes. "Just shut up already."
"Actually, we do have a way to keep you alive," Romani intruded.
"Illegal Rayshifts are forbidden," Olga forbade. "Stop wasting Chaldea's power."
"Not that," Roman accepted. "If we could just get Shirou a powerful enough and regular supply of magical energy, we could manifest his Reality Marble."
"But you can't, otherwise you would have done it instead of Rayshifting," Olga pointed out.
"Actually, there is one thing you can do," Roman began.
"I'm literally dying here," Olga snorted before wincing. "If you intend to have me do a tantric ritual, you might as well walk to the moon."
"We discussed that but that would result in even more problems," Roman replied. "We need you to sign off on our solution."
"You're the temporary vice director, you do it," Olga rudely told him. "Actually, I'll make this easy on you. You are the new director because I'll be dead in less than three days."
"Fortunately for my stress levels, the transition of responsibility is harder than that," Roman muttered before clearing his voice and speaking louder. "But we do have a magical resource we can give to Shirou. Command Seals."
"He's not a Master," Olga immediately responded.
"Da Vinci has finished adjusting the Rayshift affinity analyzer to account for both Unlimited Blade Works and your presence inside of it a few hours ago. We are just waiting for Shirou to finish his shift on repairing the damage to CHALDEAS chamber's walls from Caliburn impacting them when Lev had closed his portal before putting him through the tests," Roman explained. "Once we have that data, and given that he fought as a Master in Fuyuki Grail War, we are pretty sure he will have no problems with being able to summon and create a contract with a Servant," Olga scowled at her inability being referred to like that. "the last thing we need is for the Director to sign off on approving him as Chaldea's 49th Master Candidate, regardless of test results. While we would like him to be able to Rayshift, we don't need him to, we just need to have FATE issue him Command Seals and he can use them to power the Mystery of manifesting his Reality Marble."
"Fine," Olga sounded exasperated. Did they wear her down? "If he manages to be capable of Rayshifting, which I doubt as we tested everyone in Chaldea before reaching out to the outside world for Masters, then you can make him a Master."
Ritsuka exhaled in relief and Mash smiled beside him.
"Did TRIMEGISTUS catch that?" Roman asked someone else.
"Confirmed, Director's verbal conditional permission was caught by SHEBA and recorded in TRIMEGISTUS's databanks," a female voice responded. Ritsuka didn't recognize the voice but he and everyone else had been busy the last week. He had only met about three quarters of the survivors. "It'll work as a signature."
"Excellent. We'll get Shirou onto that," Roman sighed in relief. Ritsuka could imagine him slumping in relief in his chair. Then a comm bleep as a channel was opened. "Hey Shirou, report to the testing station. Da Vinci's plan is green to go so your shift on repairs is over."
"But," the female rolled on. "It says that we'll need her to confirm the signature after the form is finalized. She, or someone she designates, needs to review the results and approve them. Due to emergency regulations, she can approve senior management's decision but they need to look at the data first."
"Oh, well, that's no problem. We were going to have to look over the data anyways," Roman dismissed before obviously wincing. "Oh yeah. That's another problem."
"Deal with it," Olga's eyes were shut. "Just bring me my coffee when you're done."
"We have to," Roman was grim. "We've detected more Singularities, possibly the source of the problems we are having with CHALDEAS."
"What?" Ritsuka asked in shock. Even Mash looked startled. They hadn't heard anything about more Singularities!
Olga just sighed.
"Not my problem." Was her announcement. "You deal with it. You'll do better without me."
"Well, actually, it is your problem," Roman sounded awkward. "As we can't get any messages out of or into Chaldea, we can't tell anyone about the Singularities. Which means that we might have to deal with it ourselves without any help. Assuming that whoever Lev is working for has agents inside all of the nearby bases, we and any other survivors might be the only people left around. If they can't reach the outside world either, then the only known Master candidates will be Mash and Ritsuka with Shirou as a hopeful third."
"We lost over 75% of Chaldea's personnel under me," Olga disagreed. "Over 60 dead, only 23 survivors, 22 if you rightfully exclude me, 46 cyrofrozen Masters on the verge of death, and one traitor. You can't do worse than me. Take control, give it to someone else, solve or fail the Singularities, I don't care. I resign."
Mash loudly gasped as her jaw dropped and eyes widened.
"Rejected," the female voice said in surprise. "She can't resign in an emergency situation. She would need-"
She was suddenly cut off.
"Yes, well, I suppose I can make it easy on you and only get your verification," Roman coughed to cover the sudden mute. "I'm ill-suited to work as director, horribly suited in fact, but I'll do my best as vice-director. I'll take care of what I can but I will need your verbal approval for some things."
"Then do it," Olga sighed, obviously tired and worn out. But she had just woken up from a coma! Why would she be tired? "I'm done with this."
"But—Alright," Roman accepted. "We'll get Shirou through the tests and then get your approval again afterwards."
Olga didn't respond.
"I think she's asleep," Mash leaned in to peer closely at Olga. "She just woke up though."
"Ah, that makes sense," Roman sounded enlightened. "She spent a few days in a coma so her body and mind were almost completely shut down. It was probably too much to ask her to be making decisions just after returning to life and activity. Especially after everything that happened."
Ritsuka looked down at his communicator watch device. The timing of the other person being silenced was awfully suspicious. What was Roman trying to hide?
"What was that about?" Lyudmilla glared at Roman after the call was put back onto silent. "You stopped me from explaining that the majority vote of senior management would be needed to approve her resignation or to suspend her from duty. That's just you, the chief Medical Officer, Karen, the head of Sustaining Human Resources, and Da Vinci, the head of Technology. Or you could give her a leave of absence due to a medical problem."
"She's suffering from depression and maybe a few other mental and emotional problems. She certainly sounded like it and unless I can scan all of her hormone levels and brain waves, I have to use her words to diagnose her," Roman shook his head and expressed his reasoning. "I think that if I do affirm her decision to resign, she'll just take it as an affirmation of her not being important. And given that we can't keep someone with her in Unlimited Blade Works, she'll be in isolation. Depression, isolation, betrayal, and doubts of self-worth are a potent environment for creating thoughts of suicide. Worst of all, she's without a body, which means her soul should be moving on. Add in the abundance of weapons in the Reality Marble and I can't think of a better way to create a genuine suicide."
Lyudmilla paused at Roman's words, the implications sinking in.
"But if I keep on telling her that we need her tomorrow, she might just decide to live to tomorrow," Roman continued, revealing his one thin thread plan that might counter his dark fears. "You know Olga. She was always the most upset at people not living up to their responsibilities and duties. If I can pull her one day at a time into the future until we can get her out, I'll count that as a win. We can put a suicide watch on her after that but we have to keep her alive until then first."
The Command Room was silent.
Roman looked up and around him, his bleary eyes falling onto everyone who just heard.
"Did I say that out loud?" He asked rhetorically before rubbing his eyes. "Don't tell anyone what I said. I don't want to be in violation of patient confidentiality."
"I didn't hear anything," Boris Clay, a janitor who had been working here for decades said as he put on a false smile and a joke. "I'm an old man and my hearing aids cut out sometimes. Did you say something?"
"Your hearing aids are just for show," Roman muttered his usual part in Boris's joke. "I would know, I have your medical files. You have perfect hearing."
"Is she your patient though?" Bobby asked thoughtfully. "I mean, your services are available to all employees but I recall hearing that she never entered your office."
"I'm treating her like she's my patient," Roman answered. "I don't think I have anyone who needs me more right now."
"Weren't you going to go put Shirou through the tests?" Lyudmilla asked with a frown.
"Nah, I have Da Vinci doing it," Roman shook his head. "She's the only one who can both operate the machine and analyze the data. And if she is wrong about the adjustments, she can make the necessary fixes on site."
Thanks to shadyxlr for beta-reading.