God, it feels good to finish this chapter. I'm not sure how good it turned out... in fact, I'm a little afraid of posting it. I almost deleted it about three or four times, because I was convinced it was the worst bit of shlock I'd ever written...
In the end, I'm not a very good critic of how well I portray the emotions behind these characters, and I'm tired of the long period of silence, so I leave it to you, dear reader, to decide.
It was a toss up to finish this chapter or a chapter from one of my other stories, most notably "Why Me?" Since I'm almost finished with the next chapter for that one, too. However, two things made me do this one instead. Firstly, inspiration struck me as I was going to bed the other night, and I managed to break the mental stalemate that was preventing me from finishing this one, and secondly, although I am ashamed to say it, this one is slightly more popular than the other.
In any case, it probably won't be TOO long before you see a mass of other stories of mine being updated.
There were a few things I promised I'd mention when I wrote the next chapter, so I'll get right to those. I apologize for the long period of time it took me to do so. The first is a story in the Invader Zim section called Defective, by HeartsRekindled. A while back I ran into it and was impressed with the Author's ability to portray an alien (irken) perspective. It also manages to display a couple of original characters that don't immediately make you want to vomit.
That being said, anyone who can garner sympathy for the plight of an OC immediately gets my respect. I suggest you give it a read.
Also I ran into a Record of the Loddoss War Self Insert (yeah I know, but hear me out) that actually has me by the balls. I LOVE this story, and being in a relatively unpopular section, being a self insert and from an author who's not terribly well known, it has not garnered much attention. Please, please check this story out people, give the guy some support. I really enjoy his work, and I'd like to see him continue. In any case...
"The Chronicles of Murphy: Book One", by warai kitsune. Good read. Really good read.
At least, in my opinion.
Well, there was a pretty good response in regards to the audio melodrama I produced of chapter 12, so parts 13 and 14 are about finished. I REALLY need to find a website to post them at though, because the whole email thing is really tedious. So these will be ready for distribution as soon as someone wants to put up the space.
In any case, I HOPE you enjoy the story, and as always, thanks for reading and putting up with me.
Chris, DT
"Impotence. Boomerang. I'll stab you. Clumps of hair, in the sink. Who's hiding things from me? You knew all along, goddammit, but you wouldn't tell me. Well, look at you now. It's not funny, my ass is on fire! Paraplegic, inhuman liar. Carve a smile, on your face. Everything's great, suffocate. It's beyond my control. It's beyond my control... I'm crawling! It's not funny, my ass is on fire! Paraplegic, inhuman liar. Boo! Redundant... Boring."- Mr. Bungle, My Ass Is On Fire
Have you ever been set on fire?
Neither have I. Not really anyway. I mean, I've been shot with a laser, and that, in a manner of speaking, is kinda like being set on fire. It involves heat at least. A burning sensation. It's not really like being set on fire, though. I used to imagine the feeling of being set on fire is alot like watching a sugar cube dissolve in a glass of water, only happening to you, and alot more painful.
Well, I may never have been set on fire, but I'm pretty sure I can tell you what it feels like.
Today, I have discovered the sensation of being set on fire three times.
So far.
How can you discover something three times? The same way you can discover the smell of Dirt every day... because it's different every time.
You can never get used to it.
You... can never get used to it.
It stops. The color of the walls fades back into utilitarian grey. Every muscle in my body continues to strain and tighten to reduce damage that doesn't exist for a second longer, then relaxes into exhaustion. My breath eases in and out in ragged gasps.
"YoUR pUNisHMENt CycLE hAs bEeN CoMPLEteD, HuMAn."
Punishment. Punishment for what? At first it was for the audacity of talking back, and not using the proper protocol when dealing with a Tallest. This was explained to me after the punishment cycle, which lasted only about 5 minutes, but felt like an eternity.
"Do YoU uNDerStanD wHAt iS beINg dOnE tO yoU, aNd wHY?" She had asked.
I had looked up. Grinned fiercely. I had some fight left in me, then. I was stupid. For all the fucking good it did me.
"I'm being tortured... because a piece of junk... is too goddamn stupid... to know when it's past its goddamn warranty date."
A metallic sigh. "ThIS rEsiStaNCe GarNErs yOu NotHIng BUt PaIN, alIen. We sHaLL coNtINue thiS lInE oF INqUiRy UNtil YoU anSwer Me iN a SatIsFactory ManNer. YoU Have EARNed ANotHer 20 PunISHmeNt cyCLEs."
The walls flashed red again. I was set on fire again.
I screamed again.
I don't know how long the second one lasted. Squirming across the floor like a worm is useless, there is no way to escape the pain. No way to put out the fire in your flesh. Screaming, clutching yourself, nothing helps. If there is a hell, this is what it feels like.
The walls fade again. After a moment, the computer asks me if I understood what was being done, and why.
"Fuck you, you fucking... piece of Irken fucking trash... I'll rip you apart, I'll I-"
"Ah... I sEE yOu HAve moVEd On tO tHe NExt StAge oF reSisTaNCe. YoU FeAr tHE PaIn, bUt yOu ArE StILL AngRy EnoUGh TO LaSh Out. THis TrANSlatEs ItsElF inTO A LesS WitTY fOrM oF REsIstaNCe. YoU ArE ProgRESsing, ALiEn. ThIS PleASeS Me."
I shakingly stand up, staring upward. There is no visible speaker, no monitor glaring down at me, but I still perceive her to be speaking from above. It would fit her attitude.
"StILl, ReSIstAncE iT iS." A sigh. "LeT's PrOgrESs tO 30 PunIShmEnt CyclES, sHalL wE?"
The pain hits me again. This time I'm ready for it. I brace myself and stand, screaming towards the ceiling.
It is a futile gesture of defiance. It means nothing, but in that induced no-mind agony, retaining enough consciousness to remain on my feet feels like I'm winning.
I "win" for about ten minutes. Then it's too goddamn much.
20 minutes later, the pain stops.
I don't move.
"Do YoU knoW wHAt iS HaPPEniNg DuRiNg ThE PuNIShmeNT CycLE, AlIeN?"
I say nothing.
"ThE NERvoUS syStEM iS sImpLy A VeRy cRUde ElEctriCal cOndUCtor, noT TerrIbLy diSsimilaR tO a MAchINEs WirINg, ThOugH VAstLy InFEriOR. It InteRPRets A CerTaIn FOrm oF ElecTriCAl SigNAl aS PaIN. A SpEcIAL fIELd Is USeD To IndUCt ThIs sIgNal tO EvEry neRve, SimuLtAneoUSly. It CauSeS No... PeRmeNAnT... DAmAge To thE BodY, BuT I Am toLD iT Is quItE eXcrUSiatINg."
"I HavE NEver ExpeRieNCed PaIN beForE, BuT I Am tOld It IS a Unique ExpErieNCe. I aM CUriouS... WHAt dOEs It FEel LikE? CaN yOu DeScRibE iT To Me?"
I curl into a fetal position for a moment, trembling. I am about to do something very stupid, and I savor the sensation of not feeling pain for a few precious moments.
"Go... fuck... yourself."
Boy, I'm just on the cutting edge of verbal wit today, aren't I?
Admittedly, having my nervous system gang raped by a million angry electrons is having an adverse effect on my abilty to sling cutting bon motts.
"PoInTLEss aND IMpoSSiBlE, HuMAN. I MuSt ADmIt, YoU sHoW MoRE REsiSTanCE tHAn I Had oRIGINAlly ANTicIPaTED. I hAD HoPEd yOu WOuLD ANsWeR MY QuEstIon, BuT I sEE wE hAvE YeT tO ReACh ThAt LeVEL oF UNDerstANDIng."
A pause. Here is comes. Fuck, I'm so stupid... this is gonna-
"I wILl HavE tO coNtEnT MysELf wIth GaTHerINg As mUCh DaTA On yOUr FEeblE TwiTchinG aS PossiBLE."
Snap. Red.
Yup. I was right. This sucks.
Jesus Christ, I have to be dying. No one can feel this much pain and be living. Pain is an indicator of damage right? It's natures way of saying, "STOP DOING THAT YOU DUMB FUCK!"
She has found the center of all my nerves and has wrapped them up in one clawed, alien fist like a snarl of loose yarn, ripping and yanking them up out of me as I twitch and slobber and piss and shit myself (yes, I piss and shit myself. Nothing quite like a bit of humiliation and shame to go along with your hideous rape, is there?). I can't fight back, can't reach the hand that flays me... all I can do is lie there and howl.
It goes on. I may not be able to get used to the pain, but I can get tired. Time is not on my side, after all. She won't let me sleep, won't let me do anything until I...
What do I do?
I'm not giving in to this. I'm not letting her... no, I'm not letting them win. There's no one who would care if I...
Vic. Fuck... I gotta focus on something, something other than this. It's so hard... easier to just scream, to let the agony tear me apart, but if I do that, I lose my edge... I lose my hate... my rage... my sheer stupid stubbornness to not be beaten down by this.
Where is this coming from, you ask? I think I've always been this way. I've had my share of childish fits, of teenaged angst, but where did this iron determination to not be beaten come from?
I fucked up once, let the Irken race play its games once, and the entire human race lost because of it. I wasn't well liked... hell, most people down there just wanted me to shut up, go away with my rantings, wanted me locked up, out of sight.
Even my father thought I was crazy. Gaz, well... it's hard to tell what Gaz was thinking all those years. I know what she said all the time, but did she really...
It cuts off again. I stop screaming, hell, I almost forget to breathe.
How many times is this? I'm... I'm not sure.
The bitches voice cuts in on my misery, her tone smug and matter-of-fact.
"YoU aRE tHe OnE ResPonsIble FOr thIS, yOu knOW. It iS a ComMon MisCONcePtion of SLaVes tO tHInk TheY aRe PowErLesS. AlL oF thE PowEr tO PreVEnt FUrTheR paIn tO YouRsELf ResTs in You. ThIS ResIsTANce Is ChIlDisH aNd StupID. YoU GaIN nOthINg By It."
I cough.
Then I glare upward.
"You're enjoying this."
A metallic sigh. "No HuMAn... iT Is aS muCH A wAstE oF mY tImE aS It iS a WasTE oF YourS. I dON'T CaRe aBoUt yoUR PaIN At aLL. AgAiN aNothER cOMMoN mISTake. YoU CAnnoT tuRN mE INto A focUS foR yoUR RESIstaNCe. ShOUld yoU Die As A ResuLt of THEse PUnIsHMEnts, It MEanS NotHIng TO mE. I aM, AfteR AlL, a MaChine."
"You're lying."
"I AssUre You I Am No-"
"I'm not talking about caring about hurting me. I'm talking about caring." The bleak, fatalistic, knowing tone in my voice both shocks and scares me. I'm hurtling down this path on autopilot, a stranger talking with my voice, while I watch.
I don't know what's making me do this. It's petty, and it's gonna hurt. Alot.
Am I trying to get her to kill me? Is that it? Is this some attempt at assisted suicide?
I wish I knew.
I wish... I knew what was happening to Vic.
The machine is silent. I continue, gritting my teeth.
"Who's Tal?"
"WhAT?"
"Excuse me. Who WAS Tal?"
Her voice hisses in response. "You wiLl nOt SPeaK thAt NamE, HumaN. He IS A SUBcoMMAndeR, AnD y-You WIll reSpecT ThaT."
"WAS." I shout, hoarsely. "WAS... A SUBCOMMANDER."
Silence.
"They're all dead." I am fascinated by the sound of my own voice. It doesn't sound like me. Not... at all.
More silence.
"I wasn't there of course. I wasn't around when it happened, but I can hazard a guess, you megalomaniacal electronic BITCH. I'd like to think, in the end, as they were careening towards this shitpile of a planet's surface, they blamed YOU."
A long, low electronic hiss of static.
Then silence.
Finally...
"R-R-ReCoRDs InDiCAtE T-T-ThAt tHe InErTiAL NullIFiCaTioN FiEld FaiLEd FoR .2 TimE UniTs D-D-D-DurIng LoW speED MAnuEverS. It wOUlD HAvE BEeN A SuDDeN sHiFt of INteRnAL VeLocItY tO 85 VrEeMs tOwArdS tHe AfT oF tHE ShIp."
"T-T-ThEy WoUld HaVE F-F-FeLT NoTHinG, If ThEY wErE... LuCkY."
That hiss of electronic noise again.
"YOu HowEVer..."
The walls snap red... a brighter, more brilliant than I had seen before. I almost snap my own back in my contortions. I DO bite my tongue. Hard. I think I lost an eighth of an inch of the side. Blood spills down my lip.
I manage to flop onto my stomach like a landed fish.
I try to scream, but the agony is far too intense.
"ArE NoT LUcky."
Everything fades to a sort of maroonish purple black.
I wake up shivering, not entirely sure where I am. The room is dark and silent, save for a single green light blinking in a corner. My antennae pick up the quiet whirring of machinery. I sit up with the utmost care and my head still swims with nausea. My joints ache with a deep, unpleasant throbbing, my skin feels too tight.
What... what happened?
I methodically gather my legs underneath me and stand up slowly, staggering slightly as sudden disorientation strikes me. Further exacerbating my disorientation is the sudden introduction of light into the room. I blink suddenly, leaning against the wall for a moment with my eyes closed, concentrating on breathing.
"AhH. TALlest ViCToRIA. YoU ArE AWakE AheAd Of SchEDuLe."
I frown. My eyes snap open. I look at the screen, where a SIMA characterature watches me from a position of military at ease. Well, it does not ACTUALLY watch me from the screen... it watches me from the sensor in the room, but the representation is designed to emulate Irken authority, which is largely posture based, so it appears as though the figure on the screen is watching me when in fact...
Ok, Vic. Slow down. Breathe. Concentrate on the situation at hand.
"Do NoT Be ALarMEd, TAlLeSt. YoU WerE UNcoNSciouS FoR SEverAL TiME UnITs. DISoRiEnTatiOn Is To BE ExPeCtEd. It WiLl PAss MomENTarIly."
We were trying to find a way to get around the security protocols left active when the ship crashed here... we had been working on it for some time...
"I exTENd My MOsT SiNCerE APoLOgIeS TalLESt, BuT My MEdicAL DrONEs ApPEaR tO Be... INAcTivE. I dID NoT TruSt thE SeCuriTy CoNStrUCts To ReLAy YOu To OUr MedIcAl FaCiLitiEs wItHoUt DamAgING yOu. I HAve ReGuLAteD ThE OperAtIOnaL ComPArtMEnts ShIpBOard TemPerAtuRe To DEvAstIS StANdArd, HOWevEr."
Dib had said something about hacking... hacking? Hacking the computer to give me security access to the ship as a crew member...
Wait...
Dib!
"Where i-is D-Dib?" I say, surprised at the timbre of my voice... it sounds... different somehow.
"EXcuSe mE?" The computer does a remarkable job of simulating surprise... this is not a standard SIMA... what is going on here?
"Dib. Where is he?"
"I Am SorRY, TaLLEst. I Do NOt KnoW ThiS... DiB."
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. Definately not standard. Why is it addressing me as a Tallest? Come to think of it, it has been doing that since I woke up. I need to find Dib, he is better at dealing with strange, unexpected situations.
And... and I... I miss him.
"The... alien... who was with me, where is he?"
It seems strange to me that the word alien comes to my lips with so much hesitancy. It almost feels as though the word does not truely describe my companion. I reflect upon this for a moment, the memories of our success in repairing the ship's power system clear in my mind's eye. He had swung me about with abandon, a terrifying and... exhilerating sensation at the same time... and something had started to happen... something strange a-and inscrutable... equally terrifying, equally...
"SLaVE 0001? He Is BEinG PuNIShED. I MUSt AdMIt, TalLesT VicTORia, He IS A MosT... DISResPEcTFUl sPEcIMEn. I WoULD SUgGEst IMmeDiaTE DiSPosal."
"WHAT!" I squawk a bit more than I should, in that phrase. Dib is being punished? Oh... Oh no. Knowing Dib, knowing how he thinks, he'd never give in to that... I've been through a punishment cycle before... I KNOW what it feels like. Tig was always... very strict when it came to discipline, and he never liked me anyway. I became intimately familiar with the punishment cycle process.
The thought of Dib in such a thing makes me feel...
Sick.
I turn and dash out into the corridor, my thoughts picking out the dreadnought schematic. My limbs feel strange, too heavy and slow. I trip and fall down several times, but in my haste to reach him, I just pick myself up and continue running. Rushing blindly down mazelike series of compartments, I come to the slave detention center.
I stop, panting helplessly in front of the closed door. After a moment of gathering my flagging breath, I turn to the sensor.
"Computer... open... this... DAMN door." I am momentarily shocked at the profanity escaping my mouth.
Only momentarily, however.
"I Am SOrrY TAllESt, BUt I CAnNOt CoMPLy."
"Open the DOOR, Damn it!"
"TAllESt, foR yOUR SAFEty, I CANNoT COmpLy. PunishMENt cyCle 0001-17 IS StiLL IN ProgRESs. OPenINg ThE DOoR At ThiS TimE IS UNwiSe."
I blink. Oh no... I grit my teeth. Curiously, my vision becomes green at the edges, and I can feel the veins on my head pulse...
What IS this sensation?
I am ANGRY. No... I am INFURIATED.
"TURN off the DAMN punishment cycle and OPEN this DAMN door, you piece of-"
"C-COmplYing, TAlLEst. I-I Do NoT SugGESt ThIS CoURse oF-"
"I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU SUGGEST! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"
The door opens with a hiss.
It is dark inside. The internal lighting is very very dim, just enough to make out a trembling shape in the corner. The smell of... of something foul wafts slowly out of the room.
Something foul, and something familiar as well. Mixed in with the alien stench is the stench of fear, of hopelessness.
I know these scents well.
Trembling, I take a step inside.
I take another.
A sudden voice in the dark nearly makes me jump out of my skin.
"TAlLESt, fOR YouR SafEtY... A SEcuRity COnStRuct is ENroUTe-"
"Shut up. Just... do not do ANYTHING I do not TELL you to do." A part of me is shocked dumb by the tone of my voice, and yammers at me to seek forgiveness for my transgression, but it is so buried under the concern, under the... the fear... that I am able to continue.
The computer is silent.
I take another step inside, closer to the trembling bundle.
"Dib?"
The trembling increases. It... hurts, to see that.
"Dib?"
I step closer, close enough to touch him with my foot, if I wanted to. I bend down over him, cautious, but also anxious... and oddly...
Oddly ashamed.
I slowly reach out my hand towards his shoulder, not sure if this is such a good idea. The stench of something comes from him, he lies in a puddle of... oh...
He has... excreted... and...
"I.. I am so sorry Dib."
No answer. My hand tentatively touches his shoulder. He does not flinch or react to it. I take this as a good sign. Carefully, I take hold of his shoulder and begin to move him towards me.
NOW he flinches, skittering wildly back against the bulkhead, so wildly that his head slams HARD against it. His glasses flash for a moment reflecting the light emanating from the hatchway, and he gasps.
I crouch there, hands held up placatingly.
I can bearly make out his eyes, but they are focused on nothing, wide but dazed.
Dull.
I inch closer. As I get nearer there is no change to his condition. He does not even look at me.
"Dib... Dib... it is alright. No one is going to hurt you. I am not going to hurt you."
I am very close now. I can see blood staining the side of his face, staining his lip, which is split. Blood also oozes sluggishly from the cut on his forehead where he hit the bulkhead. I wince in sympathy.
I gently reach out my hand towards his.
He does not react. Why does he not react?
I gently put my hand on his. I do not grasp it, I simply lay it on top, awkwardly. I have no idea what he could be thinking, no idea what to do in a situation like this...
Please... please let me... I DO NOT KNOW!
Damn that computer... DAMN HER.
I just start babbling about nonsense... what I say is not important, a mixture of apologies and explanations... excuses. My tone of voice is calm and careful, as though I am trying to placate an angry superior. During all of this my hand rests on his.
Slowly, slowly... his breathing begins to even out of its panicked hitch. Slowly, he begins to calm himself.
He still seems to see... nothing.
I do not know how much time passes during all of this, but eventually I am able to drag him up into a standing position. I try to take my hand from his and his grip suddenly tightens on mine painfully, the panic inches from coming back.
I stop trying to resist. I look up at him carefully, and begin to lead him down the corridor.
He does not resist, he just numbly follows me.
His eyes focus on nothing. His face is slack. Unanimated.
Dead.
As we walk, we reach an area where a bit of the bulkhead had bent inward from that impact from long ago, a twisted, broken spur of metal projecting into the corridor. I step carefully around it.
Dib does not. It is not completely in the corridor, so he does not impale himself on it. It simply catches his arm as he passes, ripping a gouge into his arm.
It immediately begins to bleed.
I gasp.
He does not even seem to notice that he is injured.
"Dib! Yo- Your arm..."
He does not react.
It is not easy to bandage someone's arm when the blood is acidic to you, and you are unable to use one of your hands, but I manage. I am, after all, a medical drone. Dib does not react during all of this. His unresponsiveness... frightens me. This creature before me is so different from the animated, insistent human who has filled my life up to this point. A moment of depression overtakes me.
I force it down.
Carefully, I test a theory. I take hold of the sensative skin of his inner arm and pinch it hard. Dib does not react, not even a little bit.
I frown. I have no idea what the consequences of so much prolonged punishment might have on the human body, let alone... mind. I just... I am just... out of my depth.
I take him down to the medical section of the ship, which is infinitely familiar to me, of course. Every medical section is the same, on every Irken ship. I sit him down and somehow manage to coax my hand free from his. After a moment of resistance he seems to give up and lets his hand fall limply into his lap. I take an opportunity to clean and bandage his wounds carefully.
He does not react to any of it. He just stares straight ahead.
It... hurts me to see him this way. I take another moment to scan him and compare his condition to the baseline I built up for him when I tended to his injuries the first time. The familiar actions of medical care fill me with a sort of false sense of calm. It is something I am so familiar with I could do it with my eyes closed, and it is a comfort to feel useful.
So much about this situation makes me feel useless... helpless.
I frown. As I suspected, he has sustained severe nervous trauma from prolonged punishment. The lack of reaction to pain suggests that... that he may be incapable of feeling much tactile sensation.
I do not... know if the condition will be temporary.
I return to Dib and sit down next to him, considering what to do next.
I do not know much about the human mind, but I do know Dib. He absolutely hates to be dirty. I do not know how much it will help, but perhaps cleaning himself will help him... come back. Of course, this will not be possible inside the ship. The... shudder water he uses to cleanse himself with is outside. Carefully, I take his hand again.
He does not resist me. I take this as a sign of improvement.
I do not know how else to take it.
I lead him down the corridors to the appropriate hatchway. I regard him carefully. He shows some signs of awareness now... I am even more convinced that this is the right thing to do.
We reach the hatchway.
"Computer. Open aft airlock 17."
"TAlLEst, SucH aN aCtiON iS ExtREMely DAnGErous WIthOUt E.V.A. EQuiPmenT-"
"Just... do it, SIMA. Do not argue with me." My voice sounds weary even to me.
The inner door opens. I step inside, taking Dib with me.
The inner door closes. The outer door cycles open after a moment of hesitation... of silence. Probably the computer confirming erroneous pressure levels. We step out into the midday sun.
Dib... Dib... What has happened to you?
I... I just do not know what to do. I take a deep breath, choke a bit on the stench of this planet, then lead him out into the garbage. His nose wrinkles as the change, the only outward sign of awareness of his surroundings. Still, it is something.
I take him to the water he has stored and leave him there for a moment, gathering the items he normally takes with him to cleanse himself.
Er... well, I did watch him do it once... in the interests of scientific curiousity. I do not understand the awkward feeling this raises in me.
I return to him and set the objects down around the vat. He stares at them blankly, but he does stare at them.
I stare at him.
We stand there motionless for a few minutes.
Finally I sigh and step up to him, considering his clothing.
I steel myself for a moment, then tug upward at his shirt.
He blinks, then looks down at my feeble attempts to undress him.
"Come on Dib... please. You have to help me with this." I say, frustrated. I am just not tall enough to do it.
He blinks again, then grabs his shirt and lifts it up over his head, casting it aside carelessly. His smooth, naked chest moves with his breathing.
I look up at him, one eye narrowed in curiousity.
"Dib? Are you..."
He looks at the vat, an indescribably strange expression on his face. He turns from me and proceeds to mechanically remove his other clothing.
I watch, transfixed at the sight.
After a moment he pulls himself into the vat and I step back. He turns back to me.
I have a vague awareness of my surroundings. I know She is leading me out of Hell, and I am grateful. For a moment it seems like She is just another demon to torment me, and I resist her, but She is calm, She is careful and soothing. Patient. She takes my hand, and I feel an indescribable sense of peace. The pain is gone, the agony is all gone, and in its place I feel...
I feel nothing. It is blessedly... blessedly empty of any sensation.
It is exquisite.
The Devil is silent, She has fought it off. For a moment it seems that She will leave me again, and I almost panic, but She senses my distress and calms me again.
I am ashamed at my weakness.
She leads me down the path and I follow, ever obediant. My surroundings are strange, and I do not recognize them. She says something but I cannot seem to catch all of it and give up. She takes me to a quiet place and cares for my wounds. I know She must be special... I think... I know Her. If I need any evidence to prove to me that She is special, I need only look at my wounds.
In Her presence they do not hurt.
She leads me down the Path again, Her expression is subdued and sad. I wish there was something I could do to make Her happy, but I do nothing.
I am still afraid.
The Devil speaks again and I fight against my panic. She seems not to care about it's words, and after a short time leads me outside.
She takes me out into the sunlight. It is beautiful, even if the smell is not. This, I recognize. This... this is a place familiar to me. I become more interested in where we are going.
Where is She taking me?
It does not matter. I trust Her. Content to follow, I do so.
We reach a vat of water. She stops and looks at me.
I look at Her.
She looks back.
After a time She tugs at my clothing and I watch Her, confused.
What does She want?
I strain to understand Her.
"Come on Dib... please. You have to help me with this."
The words have meaning. I understand that She wants me to remove my clothing, so I do so. She watches me as I remove them.
Sudden realization strikes me. Sudden undstanding. I almost fall down in my haste to comply. She has led me to my way. She has led me to the way OUT! I cannot form the words at first, to thank Her.
I slip into the water, and it purifies me, prepares me for the journey onward.
I smile at Her, at Her kindness.
I will never forget Her.
A sudden flash of memory, and there it IS. I remember Her. I remember Her name!
"Thank you, Vic."
I close my eyes and take the first step.
I let my body slide into those purifying waters.
I take a breath.
For a moment I think everything is going to be ok. For a moment, I see the old Dib... I see the REAL Dib. He smiles at me, and a strange feeling of tightness clutches my chest, yet at the same time a tension I did not realize was there releases its grasp. Pounded by these conflicting sensations, I almost do not catch the words he says.
"Thank you, Vic."
Then it all goes wrong.
He drops below the surface of the water and bubbles escape to surface immediately, far too many. With a sudden shift of panic, a sudden heartstopping moment of understanding, I realize that Dib is not planning on returning to the surface.
My brain shrieks at me to move... to MOVE NOW.
I do not even think about it. I do not even hesitate for an instant.
When faced with the choice between what is to come and being alone... being... without him...
I rush forward with startling haste and slam my hand into the water, reaching about frantically for him.
Have you ever been set on fire?
Well, I may never have been set on fire, but I am pretty sure I can tell you what it feels like.
My arm errupts into sicking, horrifying pain. I can almost FEEL the flesh shriveling up from the contact. I CAN smell the horrible chemical smell of the reaction, even immersed as I am in the stench of the planet. For a moment my glove resists the liquid, and then the water spills inside and fills it. It fizzes around my submerged arm and I scream in agony.
I reach around frantically, so maddened by the pain that my fingers scratch his cheek. I manage to wrap my hand up in his hair and I tighten that hand into a fist, dragging him with strength I was not aware I was capable of to the surface. He emerges in an explosion of water and a gasping and choking mass of wetness.
Very little of it, surprisingly, hits me.
The few drops that do only add to the agony.
I hold on to his hair and screaming and unable to form a sentence. His eyes roll wildly in the sockets, then suddenly lock onto mine and blink rapidly. His face hardens in a fierce display of rage.
I cannot form words... I cannot...
His mouth opens and closes, he gasps...
Then realization... RECOGNITION floods onto his features.
Horror as well.
"VIC!"
I fling myself away from him, jerking my hand down towards the dirt. The glove flops off easily, still steaming.
I do not look at it as I am sure there is flesh still inside it. Instead, like an idiot, I clutch my wounded appendage with my other glove, then drop to the dirt and curl around the agony.
It burns my chest.
I hear movement and that damnable wet sloshing sound of water and cursing. I cannot do anything but lie there and twitch.
Please Dib... please don't do it again. I can't... I can't do that again.
She reached into the water and pulled me out.
For a moment I'm angry. As stupid as that sounds, I'm friggin' angry at her. The emotion burns its way through the fog and I'm all set to slug her right in the face for prolonging this... this hell.
Then I see the look on her face.
Then I hear the hiss of burning Irken flesh.
It hits me like a physical blow.
She drops, twists in terrible pain and the glove on her hand flops to the ground. My eyes follow it for a moment, horrified. I see bits of skin on the inside, and... and a watery green fluid leaking out of it.
My eyes flick back to her. She's curled around the agony as though she could protect herself from it, her still steaming and blistered hand quivering in her other gloved hands grip. Her fingers have penetrated the skin of her forearm and green blood flows from the wound.
I don't feel anything as I scramble out of the vat, cursing and hating myself for every slip. It worries me, but not enough to make me stop.
She SAVED me.
Oh Vic, you stupid... stupid... glorious fool of an Irken. Why? What have I done to deserve you?
When did I start caring about you like this?
When... when did your pain start to hurt ME this much?
I dry myself quickly and grab a dry towel, collapsing on my knees next to her.
"Let me see."
She gasps.
"LET ME SEE, VIC."
She uncurls a bit and somehow I manage to carefully pull her arm towards me. Even with my being careful, her skin breaks where my hands touch it.
I wince.
I tenderly wrap her arm in the dry towel and she hisses, grabbing my arm with her other hand so hard her sharp little fingers dimple my skin whitely.
I raise my gaze to her wonderingly.
"Why?"
Her eyes are narrowed at the pain. I don't think she heard me.
"WHY, DAMN IT!"
Her breath eases out in ragged gasps. After a moment of this, she slowly opens her eyes slightly wider and stares deeply into my own.
"It was... the least... painful... option."
I blink.
"Dib... please... I am... am... s-s-s-so sorry... I..."
My vision becomes blurry. My face feels tight... heat fills my eyes with wetness, and it makes tracks down the lines of my face.
I ease my head back so it won't fall on her.
I wrap her up in the towel, my arms around her... all of the rage... and the despair... the shame... the guilt... everything just overwhelms me.
"I am... s-s-sorry Dib... I could not... I couldn't..."
"Shut up... j-just shut up please."
She quiets.
I know it must hurt her to be like this. I know she must be in so much pain, but she fiercely holds on to my arm with her good hand. She pushes herself closer to me, closer to my body, as though the thought of being too far away were unbearable.
Pain is only pain, I guess.
I want to help her, I want to ease that pain.
All I can do is hold her and keep my face turned away, slightly to the side.
So my tears don't fall on her.