Mutatis Mutandis 3
Sarah awoke to the sound of birds chirping. In combination with the rustling leaves, it formed an unfamiliar ambience which alarmed her momentarily, until her memories flowed back. She was always a little slow after her forced departures from the land of the conscious, and it took a moment to spool her mind up.
Strangely enough given the amount of time she had spent wandering the capital wasteland, she found that waking up with the open sky above her head was an unusual occurrence. She had spent her teenage and adult life in the capital wasteland, fighting through the D.C. ruins, where there was usually either a handy building or a subway tunnel to duck into when it was absolutely necessary to rest. Sleeping outdoors anywhere in the capital wasteland was not a good idea. There were too many hostile creatures to make it worth the risk. Indoors, in shifts. That was the way to go.
As it was, the moment she opened her eyes and saw the sky above her head, she had to stop herself from obeying years of training and experience by scrambling for a weapon, and a wall to take cover behind. The sky a was spotless and brilliant azure painting, framed by the leaves of the gently swaying treetops; a calming sight.
She forced herself to calm down, and reflected that the reaction was a good sign; it meant that she was coming back. She had woken up under the open sky plenty of times during her stay in Point Lookout, but things had been so bleak that Security was no more a worthless adjective. She was back in the capital wasteland. Things were different here.
Blue smoke drifted above her head, and she smelled a comforting wood fire and fresh, clean air. She sat up and took a look around the now familiar glades of Oasis. The Treeminders had moved her away from the central gazebo and onto a makeshift bed, shaped from sticks and covered in a pile of leaves. The arrangement was no less comfortable than the lumpy mattresses of the citadel.
Jason was sitting nearby, using his combat knife to etch designs into a piece of wood. His duster had been spread out under him, a shield against the morning dew. The heavily condensed combat armour he wore underneath it had also been removed, and he was bared down to a simple black undershirt, and grey canvas pants with worn, knee-high motorcycle boots.
He paused in his task when his cold blue eyes met her gaze, and reached into a pack which was lying beside him. He pulled out a packet of snack cakes and tossing it to her. It bounced off an exposed root and came to rest in the grass a foot from her makeshift bed.
"Eat." He suggested.
Sarah picked up the packet and leaned against the foot of the nearest tree, tearing open the old plastic container. It was wet and slippery, a result of the morning dew which covered the grass. The cool feel of fresh water on her skin made Sarah thirsty, and as if he had read her mind, a canteen full of fresh water landed in the grass, almost on exactly the same spot. The Wanderer resumed his work, whittling away the grey bark, exposing the stark white of fresh wood to the bright morning sunlight.
"Good morning." Sarah said.
"Same to you." He dug the point of his combat knife into the bark, scraping out a hole. "You didn't scream last night."
"I didn't?"
"Nope." He turned the stick over and began a similar process on the other side, gouging a hole straight through the wood. "Plenty of groaning, but no screams." Beyond his relaxed figure, she could see the rest of Oasis waking up. The hooded figures bustled through the trees, setting about their morning ablutions.
"Good." She said, pulling out one of the snack cakes. It crumbled in her fingers, a victim of Jason's rough treatment. She ate it anyway, using the water to break up the dry, abrasive texture.
"I think we're going to leave today." He said. He raised the whittled work to his lips and blew on it harshly, clearing out a fair amount of sawdust. "I'm going to take you home."
The news didn't come as any particular kind of shock to her, though she wasn't particularly pleased about it either. Her departure from the brotherhood had been a less than graceful affair, resulting in the alienation of most of her friends as well as her own father. She wasn't sure how they'd react to her return. Indeed her forced hiatus with the Wanderer had been instigated at the behest of none other than Star-Paladin Glade, her closest friend, and longest-serving member of the Lyon's Pride. He had done it not to spite her, but out of well-justified fear for her mental state.
Her expedition to Point Lookout had cost the lives of nearly a dozen scribes, and several Brotherhood knights including two valued members of the Lyons' Pride. Only Sarah and Rothchild had managed to make it out alive, and managing that had been a miracle. The trip, though they accomplished their objectives, had been a disaster. Proving she was once again worthy of wearing Power-Armour was not going to be easy.
On top of that, Oasis had lived up to its namesake; a place of remarkable peace and calm. The small forest was well hidden, surrounded on all sides by the inner walls of a great rock circle blocking all access save for a winding, hidden little path, barely large enough in places to allow a single man passage. Most of the dangerous creatures couldn't even get to it. Add to that the fact that it lay in the northern wilderness, where human raiders and supermutants rarely if ever set foot… it was probably the safest area in the entire wasteland.
Even in the most secure places in the southern capital wasteland, the peace was a manufactured one, and therein lay the problem. Manufactured sanctuaries required constant, often violent defense. What was built could be, and often was, torn down. While in the Citadel, or Rivet City, physical safety was next to assured. But there were always lingering doubts. Oasis offered something more. Something better: spiritual safety as well. A human being could truly rest here, mind, body, and soul.
Sarah didn't particularly want to leave, but in truth, neither of them could stay there forever. The Wanderer was right. It was time to head back.
He helped her pack quite soon after she had finished eating, and allowed her to say her goodbyes to the Treeminders. She had not grown to know them particularly well, but she at least knew Branchtender Linden, who was former member of the Brotherhood Outcasts. Though she hadn't known him beforehand as anything more than a face in a hallway, he certainly knew her, and had greeted her by name when she arrived. Their leader was an elderly man named Treefather Birch, who had spoken less than a dozen words to her the entire visit, with the exception of the first night, when he'd sworn her to secrecy. And of course there was Bloomseer Poplar, who was mysteriously absent from the proceedings.
The Treeminders were polite, in their own quiet way, but early in her stay, it had become very obvious that they were more interested in living up to their name than in getting to know her. Even Linden was distant. She was a visitor. A temporary burden on their peaceful habitat, accepted only because the Wanderer had asked. Jason Howlett was very well respected among them, though no one, himself included, would tell her why, and she got the feeling that he was protecting her from some disturbing piece of information. He had asked her politely to avoid the central grove of the forest, which was blocked off by a heavy wooden gate, and heavily guarded. He had been worried that whatever was inside might have exacerbated her condition. Sarah had complied quite happily; the mental breakdown which had landed her there in the first place was a direct result of knowing more than was good for her.
The farewell did not last long. It ended at the gates of Oasis. The Treeminders, with the exception of their standing guard Branchtender Maple, were standing just inside the gate. Jason and Sarah stood on the outside, adjusting their packs, and making the last minute preparations, which for the Wanderer included checking that his weapons were loaded. The Northern Wilderness was a dangerous place.
"Miss Lyons, wait!"
Sarah turned. Bloomseer Poplar brushed past the silent Treeminders and crossed through the wooden archway to stand in front of her. "It is my custom to give every visitor a gift, if you will accept it."
Sarah glanced back at Jason, who was standing a few meters down the path, watching them carefully. He gave her a tiny nod and she turned back to Poplar.
"I know bad news is never welcome, yet I beg you to heed my words."
"I'll have to hear them first." Sarah said cautiously.
"I see betrayal on your horizon, and misery also." The woman told her in a slow, deliberate voice. "Yet remember that forgiveness is the only gift greater than hope."
"Well that's… unhelpful." Sarah replied. "Who's doing the betraying, exactly? And why does forgiveness matter?"
"I've shared all I know." The woman intoned sadly.
Sarah was about to open her mouth, but bit her tongue at the last moment. Bloomseer Poplar had, afterall, expended unreasonable amounts of her time restoring Sarah to working order. Pushing the poor old woman would be the very worst form of rude. She already looked haggard enough. Indeed though she tried to hide it, her relief at their departure was obvious.
As if reading her mind, Jason said, "Don't push it, Sarah." He walked up to them and turned to Poplar. "Do you see anything for me?"
The woman frowned. "I see worthy companions and a worthy foe. You stand at the brink of a second apocalypse. When the time comes, remember who you are and why you fight."
"Thank you Poplar." Jason said gravely. "Sarah? Shall we?"
They started down the narrow passage, Sarah locked in deep thought. Jason immediately sank into his usual alert silence; what Sarah tended to think of as his 'Wanderer Mode'. His eyes were constantly scanning his surroundings. His face was blank, but underneath it, she knew his mind was hard at work. She took her time, walking slowly past the last trees and bushes of Oasis. They grew more scarce with every yard, and she felt a sense of regret settle upon her shoulders. She knew she was going to miss the place.
"What did she mean by betrayal?" she asked.
"That you're going to be betrayed." Jason shrugged. "It's more than she usually gives. Poplar's prophecies never really make sense until after the fact. If you even remember them by that point. They never mean quite what you think they're going to."
"But now I know someone's going to betray me. The questions are who, when and why?"
He shrugged a hunting rifle off his back and handed it to her, digging out his jet-black scoped, suppressed assault rifle; his signature weapon.
"I don't have any answers for you, Sarah." He said, softening for a moment, "but I'm glad you're asking questions."
As they turned a final corner and descended into the capital wasteland, her regret was replaced with resigned depression. The sun hung low behind them, illuminating the crumbled rail line, visible in the middle distance above the tops of the dead trees. A bent and twisted maglev train lay on the ground, far below, covered in rust and overgrown with tangled weeds.
"This way." Jason said, leading her south.
Riley landed hard on a concreted floor. She fought back against the wave of nausea, and felt her consciousness waver. The taste of copper soured her pallet, and her ribs ached from the sledgehammer blow. She could hear their depraved laughter, and feel the tremors of their heavy footfalls, but she refused to open her eyes; she had seen enough. She wondered where Brick and Butch were, and whether or not their desperate gambit had worked. Everything hurt. She had never in her life endured a beating like that. She had never thought she would break. Yet she had. She no longer wanted to fight. Or to move at all. The cold floor was soothing against her bruised skin. She shivered; they had stripped her of her armour and weapons, leaving her in her underclothes. All she wished for was that they would end it quickly.
Footsteps thudded past her and halted. "Master! We found…" the erratic voice paused for a second, "Four-er of dese humans! Caught tree. Killed two!"
"Find the fourth. And wake her." Said a heavy baritone voice, full of thoughtful menace. Sharply contrasting the others present in the room, it spoke in perfectly pronounced English.
Massive, toughened hands lifted her roughly by her bruised shoulders and forced her into a kneeling position. Her head was tilted back and a bucket of scum-ridden, filthy water was poured over her face. She spluttered and reflexively opened her eyes, coughing. They let her go and she landed on her hands and knees, trying to stay conscious. She found herself focusing on a narrow crack in the concrete, and the tiny bit of moss which was growing out of it.
"Look up, human." The voice prompted.
Riley obeyed. She was in a darkened rectangular room, enormous in height, but narrow in width and breadth. Its ceiling was lost in the depths of shadows. A staircase circled around behind her, leading to a door high up on one of the walls. Dozens of supermutants were quietly standing on it, watching her with crazed feral eyes.
Immediately in front of her was what could only be described as a throne, constructed of twisted steel columns and heavy concrete blocks. Savage rebar and thick bulks of angle iron spread to either side like giant demonic wings. Nets of ichor and human remains hung suspended from them, but Riley's gaze was drawn up the flight of uneven concrete steps to the lone Supermutant occupying the chaotic hodgepodge which passed for a chair.
Its skin was the first thing that came to her attention. The mutant was…strange. Unlike anything she had ever seen before. Dark blue in color, streaked with grey. It possessed weathered knuckles and a scarred face.
It stared down at her from atop the throne. It had adopted a thoughtful pose, elbow on the arm of the massive concrete chair. Its chin was in its hands, and its cold, jaundiced eyes examined her with sharp intelligence. This one was different. Not just in the physical aspects. It was smart, she knew immediately. Smarter than her. Slightly smaller in size than the regular green mutants, but it carried the weight of years of accumulated knowledge. Its experience showed through in every move it made, everywhere it looked, and every word it said. Normal mutants moved in unsteady child-like steps, and spoke in erratic shouts and grunts. Yet as this mutant rose, Riley was struck by the elegance, and fine motor control of each carefully calculated motion. She had already heard its measured baritone voice.
The monster was clad in thick plate armour fashioned crudely from the shells of cars, and the hulls of boats. An enormous sword was leaning against the throne, and Riley recognized the blade as a vertibird rotor. The mutant had used rebar to fashion vicious spiked knuckles, which it was wearing, and Riley knew that a single hit would unquestionably kill her, or any human unfortunate enough to suffer one.
The mutant stepped carefully down off the dais and took a knee in front of her, bringing its face down close to hers.
"Where is the fourth member of your mercenary group?" the Mutant asked, in perfect English.
Donovan… A faint hope flared in the depths of Riley's heart. They hadn't found him yet! Given the mutants sheer numbers, that was a miracle. The young man might have made it out! She desperately hoped so, for the sake of the wasteland. Someone had to get the news out! Riley was already dead. She knew that, had accepted it when she held the line, trying to buy him time. But the capital wasteland…if they were unprepared, their chances would be even slimmer, although in truth her hopes had been extinguish the moment her small band of Rangers had born witness to the mutant army. There had been hundreds gathered! Possibly a thousand. Certainly more than they could count.
Where had they all been hiding? Even deeper in the ruins? How many were there? And how big a fraction of their full forces had been gathered here in Takoma? If these were just the front lines… the first wave of an impending invasion… then the wasteland was doomed. Someone had to get word to the Brotherhood before it was too late.
She hoped Donovan had made it, and for the first time in her life, began to pray. Her head lolled backwards as another wave of nausea spread through her.
"Where is he?" the mutant asked again. It reached out and with a surprisingly gentle touch, supported her head, forcing her to look directly into its yellow eyes. It seemed calm, to her. Collected and purposeful as it searched her for an answer. At last it let her go and looked up at the Overlord, who had reported the incident. "I very much doubt she has any useful knowledge at all. Search the ruins. Block all major subway junctions. I want the humans to have no warning at all."
With a dumbfounded expression, the Overlord stared at its leader.
The mutant king sighed. "Find human. Fast. Kill it."
"Yeah-aha ha ha!" the Overlord roared in approval and stomped off.
The King rose and examined its subjects. "Leave us!" it ordered. "Rally the Behemoths! We march in three days!"
The collected mass roared in approval. The King stepped back and lifted the enormous sword above its head. "Unity!" it shouted.
"Unity!" the mutants responded with enthusiasm, pounding the railing until it bent.
"Unity!" The King said again, and again the audience repeated him, filling the void with a horrid wall of noise.
"Unity! Unity! Unity!"
The King lowered its sword, and Riley fell to the floor as her captors scattered. The room emptied, leaving only her and the King behind. It stared down at her. Riley had never bothered to learn how to read Supermutant expressions. If she had, she would have been surprised by the mixture of mild disinterest, and pensive pity the mutant king displayed.
It said, "What is your name, Human?"
"Just fucking kill me." She said quietly. "Get it over with."
The mutant sighed and moved back, taking a heavy seat on the lowest steps of its throne. "You are the first of the last. You should feel honored. You have just witnessed the beginning of the end for your species. A shame, to be sure, but I am at least one-hundred and seventy years old. I have watched humanity for a very long time. You are overeager and too dangerous for your own good. The great war proved that. My own existence continues to prove it. The world is too precious a place for yours to handle. We are the future. And you are the past. That is how it must be."
"However I owe you no animosity, and I am going to offer you a choice. The same choice I intend to offer every captive. The same choice I have always offered every captive. It would surprise you how many agreed. This is entirely voluntary. If you would prefer death, I will oblige."
"Just spit it out!" she groaned.
How would you like to join my army? Take the virus. Become a Supermutant. Fight beside me and my brothers, or die under our heel."
"Kill me." Riley choked, laying awkwardly on the cold concrete floor.
"As you wish." The mutant stood once again. It walked over to her, and brought its heel down on her neck.
My apologies for the long wait. Again. I hope it was worth it.
I've been caught up in Mass Effect 3, writing The Fourth Option, and replaying the game. Add to that, final exams and other RL stuff, and I've had a busy month.
Alright, so for the new readers, if you want the full details of what happened to Sarah, you're going to have to go back a story and read Aqua Vitae. Don't worry, I tried to make it tolerable. I didn't want to spend much time in oasis. As the last scene in this chapter should indicate, there's plenty to be done.
Brutus' throne room does actually exist, though his throne doesn't. It's in the Takoma Industrial factory.