Darting through the metal hallway, still feeling as though she was being pursued, Mable passed by a servitor head and entered a dark cellar room. Blinking as the green skull scanned her, Mable wordlessly thanked the servitor who had said goodbye to her earlier, and then ran to the wall she had fallen down earlier that day.
Staring into the darkness, Mable looked at the chute entrance currently being guarded by a metal screen that had not been there prior… and looking down at her wrist, she would speak to the humming bracelet.
"Can you, uh… I don't know, help here? I can't-"
The metal vent quickly fell apart as the liquid blades shone outwards, easily cutting the barrier apart. Covering her face as metal fragments fell upon her, Mable felt her arm suddenly snap to extension and, in her pain, she would cry out as she watched the silvery tendril latch into the stone and begin to reel her towards the escape path.
Feeling great pain as she pushed herself into the chute, swearing to herself not to ask for help in such a manner again as she began to crawl deeper into the tunnel, Mable twisted and found a small light generating from her wrist as her eyes were adjusting to the pitch darkness… and although she was happy having escaped… the breath she was taking was dry, and pained.
She was tired.
Sleeping painfully in the chute that sent air upwards into the hive, Mable came to as she felt a poking at her face. Blinking in the pure light that shone beautifully, Mable rubbed her eyes of the grime and tears she had created while passed out… and looking around, she would quietly begin to scale her way upwards. Twisting awkwardly, exerting painfully as she realized escaping downwards was much easier than going up, Mable would continue to contort her body until, at last, she found the trap door.
Pushing against the stone briefly, before it automatically began to thrum against the wall it was surrounded by, Mable would wait… and listen. Not hearing any footsteps, or gunshots, Mable quickly bolted upwards to her feet… and then let out a groan of pain as she stood to her full height, her back having found poor rest in the tunnel. Rubbing her lower back several times as she listened, Mable kept an ear open as she stepped into the closet that hadn't been shot through, nor broken down by xeno-worshipping mutants.
Unsure what time of day it was, or what year it was – or had ever been now that she thought about it – Mable continued to stare through the crack in the closet door… and, after judging no one was in the connecting hallway, open the door and entered the hall. Already seeing a difference in the temple she knew and the one she currently inhabited – as sacred dust wasn't immediately clogging her nostrils – Mable paused, reflected, and then tried to figure out how to get shoes on her feet without disturbing anyone. Having no other objective right now, but not wanting to steal from the temple that had taken care of her, Mable slowly traversed the halls, beginning to hear the footsteps of barefooted nuns as faded conversation echoed down the stone corridors.
Looking down at her wrist, and then hoping that it wouldn't activate and kill anyone as they continued to flee, Mable… would wonder if this 'artefact' as Priam called it, could differentiate between friend and foe, as when the researcher had aimed a pistol at her it hadn't immediately cut him down. Thinking it unimportant in the moment, Mable continued her escape, finding the exit to the cloister-turned-orphanage… and, glancing towards the main hall that was currently abandoned, Mable would step out into the hive city's streets that had been overrun by mutant monstrosities hours ago.
Or perhaps several years from now.
Bumping into hundreds of night-goers as she tried to avoid the bad parts of the area, Mable would instinctively head to the second-hand clothier. Heading to their back-alley, and glad to see that some things never changed, Mable would smile at the other street-rats that were going through the garbage of cloth to make shoes or bindings. Being stared at by the other eight kids that were digging through trash for their families, Mable eased her way into the mess as she was studied… but as they looked down to the frayed, damaged, and blood-stained dress she wore, Mable would be allowed to wordlessly join those of her age or younger.
"You hurt?" Mable was eventually asked by a younger girl, and as she would look at her hands that… honestly didn't hurt as much anymore. Shaking her head, but refusing to speak, Mable gained a nod for her denial as the girl continued to question her. "What are you looking for?"
"Shoes, or cloth to bind my feet. I'm… needing to leave."
"Where you going?" She was immediately asked… and as she frowned, she would speak the truth.
"Somewhere else."
"Do you need money?" The girl asked… and as she narrowed her gaze at the younger girl, she was told of what appeared to be news to her. "A man said to tell girls around your age that a hot-shot from the middle hive came down, wanting to recruit them."
"Um… thanks. I'll think about it." Mable whispered to the girl that… was far too young to be discussing such… 'opportunities,' as her old matron had called them.
Getting a nod of understanding from the child, Mable would eventually find enough scrap cloth to bind her sore feet… and, quickly wrapping her toes all the way to her ankle, she would glance at the other children who were digging through cloth that had watched her. Soon asked by a young boy to help him make his own, Mable would smile and nod as thanks for them not running her off, and then, when she helped the third child finish their wrappings, the owners of the clothier would hear them and come out to scare them off.
Having shoes, but now incredibly hungry, Mable went to go through garbage of the foodbank, dodging the older vagrants and bums that watched the building. Unable to get close, Mable realized that she needed to find a place that had a better source of nutrition while people around her weren't turning into mutant monsters or being eaten by alien creatures.
Looking at her wrist then, Mable quickly darted off into an alleyway, squeezing between buildings and taking shelter out of sight… before whispering to the bracelet that had locked to her wrist.
"Mister Orb?"
Low-hum, as if questioning her.
"Um… I'm not sure how this works. Can you only go backwards in time?"
Very low hum. Negative confirmation?
"So, you can go forwards, back to when we first met?"
High-pitched whir.
"That's… a yes?"
A mirrored whir… like grinding cogs.
"Could you go… I don't know, like a few days before we met?"
Silence.
"Okay, what about a year?"
Again, silence.
"Do… you know what a day or year even is?"
Continued silence.
"Alright… well, can you send us forward for a moment? I need food, but if I go-"
Gasping painfully as she felt air enter her lungs for what felt like the first time in her life, Mable would blink as light returned to her eyes. Feeling sick and as though an electrical charge had just coursed through her body… Mable would silently fall forward… and then, catching herself, remember when she was.
Xeno rebellion. Right. Monsters in the street, killing people. Turning people into soup.
She was not soup, her brain confirmed.
Standing up in the alleyway, Mable slowly, quietly, glanced out to the now empty streets that had previously been packed by thousands of people. Seeing refuse of the evacuation, stores having been looted, vehicles having been abandoned, and dozens of dead bodies in the street, Mable grimaced as she turned towards the foodbank… and, not seeing anyone or anything immediately guarding it, she slowly creeped through the edge of the street towards where food could be found.
Heading at first to the entrance that was protected by a metal shutter that had descended likely during the chaos of the evacuation, Mable would run to the back entrance, and see a dead militia member that had recently died. Stepping over the man's body, Mable carefully headed to the door that had been kicked open… the back entrance being the location of more than one death she realized.
Looters, or perhaps less-obvious mutants, lay dead. Six, or seven, judging by the severed arm that one of the mutants had been holding onto when he was killed here, laying on the floor of a break room. Stepping beside the militia member who was holding an autogun, his back resting on the door to the interior of the foodbank, Mable would try to open it, and then, digging through the militia man's pockets, find a small key that she could insert into the lock.
Twisting left, trying right, and then remembering the old adage of 'left is life, right is knife,' Mable would try the left again, hearing the lock open. Pulling the door free, Mable would enter the darkened back area, extending her hand out as the pale light of her wrist shone into the darkened interior.
Then finding the illumination switch, Mable would try the power, and, after a prayer to the machine god that wasn't on her wrist, she would feel quite proud of herself as the power flickered on – illuminating a vault of canned, dry, and preserved food that…
Would have made her a very rich girl, were this a different time and place.
After eating the canned food, drinking what was likely unclean water, and then scavenging a backpack to fill up with more rations and a canteen, Mable would be quite surprised as she heard a ringing alarm go off within the foodbank. Looking around briefly for the noise, if only to turn it off, Mable discovered a simple communicator mounted onto the wall of the back office where the ration overseer would catalog and account his shipments, and then, carefully picking up the device, she would hear a feminine voice call out to her.
"Marak, finally! Tell me you're okay."
"Um." Mable started… and then felt a hesitation across the communication line. Feeling quite awkward as she spoke, Mable quietly introduced herself. "I'm… not Marak. I'm Mable."
"M-Mable? What… what are you doing in Marak's office?"
"I heard the… noise, and I picked up. Who… who is this?"
"This is Ration Administrator Dorithi Furlow." The feminine voice introduced with a tone of annoyance, and then gave her an impossible task. "Are you taking shelter from the looters with Marak? He's the ration overseer in this bank location. Can you hand the communicator to him?"
"Um." Mable hesitantly started, glancing to back exit she had wandered through, and doubting a ration-overseer would die like a heroic militiaman in a last stand… but then again, she had seen Priam, a researcher, do the same when trapped and wounded. Remembering for a moment that Priam's body hadn't been found with anyone dead around him, Mable would speak up, trying to keep her voice level. "I-I… haven't met anyone with that name. I think he may have evacuated."
"Evacuated? Why would he evacuate? There was just a power-outage in that section of the hive, right?"
"If… if there was a power outage, could I talk to you?" Mable asked, the city still having lights in the cavernous, rockcrete walls.
"I… suppose not?"
"There's… like, a strange cult running around killing people, Ration Administrator." Mable quietly explained. Remembering they were very food motivated when it came to people, Mable felt quite lucky that they had, more or less, forgotten about the foodbank while she was here. "I'm from the local orphanage down the street, and saw them kill the nuns. No one is in the streets, but… I still hear distant shooting, so maybe others are around. They told me they were going to turn me into soup."
"W-what?"
"Can you call the arbiters? Or the planetary defense forces? Things are really bad." Mable whispered, and then began to hear the shooting growing closer – with much more intensity. "Um, I think they're coming this way, so I gotta go. I'm sorry if Marak is dead."
"Wait! Mable-"
Mable quickly put down the communicator, and rushed to the side exit. Glancing both directions to see if she was being approached, and definitely hearing the shots of an autogun, Mable would duck out of the alleyway, and glance down the street where she would see a vehicle – or perhaps several vehicles welded together – shooting guns towards windows of the side streets. Unsure if this was just a random act of destruction, or the driver was trying to achieve an unknowable objective, Mable looked towards her wrist, and spoke.
"Mister Orb, I'm ready to go back to that other time now."
With a shock, a jolt, and then pain as she breathed, Mable decided that she did not want to go back to the time she was familiar with. Feeling quite tired as she leaned heavily on the wall of the alleyway, she had transitioned within, Mable held a hand to her face… and then stood up. Realizing she needed to truly rest, Mable would consider her options, and feel that she was going to be in trouble regardless of where she slept. Unsure if the temple she had once lived within as an abandoned child would allow her to stay with them for a time, and knowing that her family likely wasn't even around in their old home, Mable thought for a time… and then decided that she would settle on the temple prior to trying to sleep on the street. Not particularly afraid of the latter, especially with Mister Orb on her wrist cutting soldiers in half, Mable slowly turned back the way she came, and decided to place her faith in the followers of the Emperor.
Looking at the tracked and wheeled vehicles painted black parked in front of the temple's gates, Mable would see a throng of bystanders be kept at bay by a perimeter of arbiters and their activated stun batons. Unsure what was occurring, Mable curiously moved towards the perimeter and tugged at a nearby older woman who was trying to peak into the opened gate, but as she saw soldiers clad in black armor like the ones she had ran away from earlier, Mable could guess what was occurring.
She had been followed, or perhaps tracked. Realizing the soldiers had figured out where the hidden tunnel went to, Mable had drawn the attention of those tracking her to the temple that was now being searched for her… and as she slowly turned away, Mable decided it was best to flee before she was noticed by someone who recognized her. Using the curious mob as a screen as she ran away, Mable ducked into a nearby alley and tried to think of a plan to survive… and as she took cover off the main street, not sensing anyone around her, Mable would question her wrist.
"Mister Orb? What should I do?"
High-then-low whir. A query?
She stared at her wrist for a time, expecting more. Wondering if it could even speak on its own, or if it was just reacting to her words, Mable decided it was better to stay on the move for now, and left to see if she could pass out in an alley and rest.
Her feet took her home, Mable realized as she wandered through the poorest residential quarter closest to the elevator where miners descended below, into the earth. Seeing the horde of dust covered, grime-concealed faces as they returned home after their shift, Mable would briefly wonder if her grand-father, or great-grand-father was somewhere within the crowd… but as she looked towards the tower on the fringe of the lowest part of the city, Mable decided that this was far enough.
Hiding away from the many eyes that could view her, as if she was a daughter waiting for a father that would never arrive, Mable looked to her wrist, and asked for them to transition again. The artefact, pausing briefly, would do as she begged, and, feeling the discharge be easier this time, Mable would let out a breath as she looked around the mining elevator after the uprising.
Her legs hurt as she leaned on the wall. Her lungs hurt, as she breathed in the dusty air from the massive hole in the ground. Staring at the tower entrance that had been abandoned… Mable grimaced to herself as she searched for the window she had once stared out of, several hundred meters above the earth her wrapped feet now braced herself on.
Deciding for herself that this was what she wanted, Mable slowly took her first step towards her family… both terrified of them being there, and being gone.
Finding the ascender, Mable would walk up the stairs she had often descended with her mother. Having held the woman's hand down them for most of her life, only to have her suddenly ripped away on a normal day, Mable would look at the stair that had so pathetically claimed her mother's life.
Staring at the metal steps that her mother had been pushed down by a careless arbiter that hadn't seen her or the eleven-year-old girl that had tried to anchor the older woman, Mable would wait… as if expecting something to happen. Eventually looking to the wrist that had sent her back in time, she wondered aloud the power this artefact had.
"Do you understand dates, Mister Orb?"
Low hum. No.
"You must understand the concept of time, right? Days, nights? Twenty-four-hours? Minutes? Seconds? One. That's a second. One, two, three. Three seconds. Surely, you can figure it out."
Low hum. Rejection.
"You understand time, though. You have to. You've reacted to me saying that word before. You've sent us back and forth on my request… but is it just then? Just that… year? Day? Time period? What is locking you to there, but can't send me back… earlier? If we go back to then, can we go back further than that?"
High pitch whir. Affirmation.
"How far back can we go? Two jumps? Three?"
Silence.
It wasn't going to tell her its limitations.
"What decides the length of the jump, then? Is there… something that has to be met? A condition?"
High hum. Probable affirmation?
"Do you not know?"
Silence.
If it did, it didn't want her to know.
"Come on. Please, there's got to be something… that explains this, right? You sent me back, but… is there a particular time you sent me? Why was it there, when a person could shoot us? Couldn't you send us to a time before that… facility was even built? Or… would that just send us into the ground, burying us forever?"
High hum. Probably confirmation.
"So… if I go to a place where a stone was demolished, and then ask you to go when it was still around, you wouldn't be able to?"
High whir. Confirmation.
"So… I can't go back in time if something blocked me from being there… but what about movement? If I was in a moving vehicle, and we went back in time, would the entire vehicle go with us?"
Low hum. Probably… not?
"Would I just fall, or would I keep the momentum of the vehicle?"
Silence. It didn't know.
"What about on a space ship? If I ask you to move me backwards in time on a spaceship, would it just have us fall in space?"
Silence again.
It hadn't tried?
"Well… there has to be some kind of rule to this, right? Can you take us back in time to an earlier point in my life?"
Low whir. No.
"But before I existed is fine?"
Low-high hum. Probably fine?
"What about the future? Can you send me forward in time?"
High-low hum. Blinking at that one, Mable would pause… and looking down at the metal steps as she realized it probably could send her forward in time to some unknown effect, Mable… would question the orb.
"Have we met before?"
Silence.
"If you can exist in the future, then no one would be able to interact with you unless you wanted them to, right? Because then you could just move forward in time before they could get to you. Or does that… imply you have a will in the first place? Priam said you were an artefact, so… are you just an object, or do you have a will? A want? You have to want something, surely, right?"
Low hum.
Probably not? Or was that a different cadence of hum, suggesting that she was wrong but somewhat close to the truth?
Mable didn't know as she sat on the metal stairs close to where her mother had died… and feeling as if she was losing her mind interrogating the thing that wouldn't take her to a time where she could avoid this entire situation, and putting off finding the truth of her family's fate, Mable… shook herself.
"I… I guess we'll figure it out as we go, right?" Mable whispered, and then let out a thought. "If you do know me from the future, I hope you won't let me walk into an ambush, okay?"
High hum. Unsure if that meant it would probably help her, or would probably let her walk into a future ambush, Mable scoffed to herself as she tried making sense of the noise of the artefact… and then make fun of the entity.
"I think I liked you better as a floating ball of light."
Trying the locked door of her family's generational apartment, Mable would beg the silent entity to open the door. Expecting it to extend into a blade and cut it apart, Mable was incredibly surprised as the tendril of liquid silver extended towards the key-hole, and inserted itself into the locking mechanism. Soon hearing the shifting of gears, with a try the handle as the metal returned to the bracelet, Mable would enter her family's changed home.
She wondered if her family had evacuated as she stepped beyond the half pace of a hallway, into the living room where many beds lined the walls. Finding her own, apparently in use by a different child, Mable would stare at the bed that was disorderly and left unmade… wondering why her father hadn't beaten their guest or family member for having an untidy, unpresentable living space.
Perhaps they hadn't had time. Not seeing any of her older sisters' belongings close to the beds they had once lived on, Mable would check her father's room… trash and belongings of another woman being immediately present.
She hated it, Mable realized as she felt a burning in her stomach. Staring at the mess some woman had made, and allowed her father to slack on cleaning when her mother had been so strict to keep them well maintained, Mable would stare in anger and rage… but felt a simultaneous joy that her family had likely not died. Hoping they had made it to an evacuation point during the initial rebellion, and that the xeno cultists hadn't yet reached the other parts of the hive city, Mable moved to the kitchen and placed her small sack of food down on the counter. Trying to see if they had water, and then finding out they still did, Mable would drink from the tap… glad that if power had gone out, it was while she hadn't been… here.
It felt weird, realizing she was transitioning through time. Wondering if anyone had seen her, or if there was some kind of sensory effect after they transitioned, Mable silently stared at the six cans of food, and the three heavy dry rations she would use to survive the rebellion. Hoping that the arbiters in this section of the city would destroy the xeno worshipping cultists soon, Mable slowly went to lock the door, and then rested in what had once been her own bed. Planning for herself as she waited for sleep to take her, Mable decided that it would be wise to wait a day for a change in the current situation before moving forward. Imagining the arbiters would combat these xeno-worshippers, or if not them, then the planetary defense forces, Mable would be certain that she would be able to find help, or escape.
Where she would escape to, she wasn't sure… but, knowing that someone would come to reclaim this part of the hive city eventually, Mable would slowly look towards the upper city, and hope things would be okay.
Trying to teach the artefact what a day was by spending two twenty-four-hour periods staring at a clock, Mable would be blasted by the vox-casters in the entire spire by a deafening, booming voice. Warning her that the lower hive was to be entirely abandoned, Mable was then given two hours to evacuate the area before a neuro-toxin was introduced into the air system to kill any xeno within the area.
Not liking that news, Mable guessed no one was coming to the area, and that it was time to leave. Quickly putting on her sister's spare shoes, Mable rushed to get her things in order. Packing up the food of her family that had been abandoned – as well as a spare watch from her father's room – as they likely weren't going to be able to come back immediately after the whole 'neuro-toxin' thing, Mable rushed down the descender and began to look for a way out of the hive.
Running for as long as she could, until a man-sized, elongated headed, multi-armed, pale-and-red fleshed creature came out of hiding to chase her, Mable would freeze in terror as the screaming, biting, awful thing was cut down as it jumped at her, the silver liquid reacting with an unfollowable speed as it extended and swiped its head and neck from its body. Continuing to run at her, still upright, swung its claws despite the lack of head, Mable began to cry as she raced towards the railway that would take her to the second tier of the city… but as she saw more the scattered beasts coming to investigate the death cry of its kin, Mable felt it was better to transition now, rather than risk being chased or shot by the strange creatures hunting for people. Finding the local lavatory beside the rail-line, and taking shelter behind the garbage dumpster, Mable decided now was the time to escape, and then get onto a train when people were still around.
Sniffing hard to hold her breath and instantly regretting it as the scent of generations of uncollected garbage entered her nostrils, Mable closed her eyes, and then felt a jolt course through her body.
Blinking and inhaling sharply, Mable would blink, and stare at a homeless, likely unemployed man shift from his small space next to the dumpster that, despite the time change, didn't look any newer. Looking down at the person who blinked at her, Mable quickly sent a question to the confused bum that appeared as if he had just been woken up.
"Did you see something just now?"
"A… light."
"Like, bright white light?"
"Y-yeah." The man groaned, stretching out as he looked at her rags. "You got a hand-torch? Find it fun to mess with a guy down on his luck?"
"Uh, no. Sorry. Actually, here." Mable apologized, going through her sack and dropping the man a dry ration while he was still groggy and couldn't steal from her in anger. "I'm running out of time. Do you know how to get to the middle hive from here?"
"Middle hive? Kid, what… what do you think you're doing? Running away from home?"
"Uh, something like that." Mable confirmed, the bum shaking his head in apparent disappoint for her, despite living next to a dumpster behind a lavatory.
"You want Spire Lorthanx, then."
"What's that?"
"The fuckin'… Pee-Dee-Eff spire. They'll give anyone a job." The man breathed out in disappointment, opening the ration and biting into the crust… and then, looking down at the packaging, would seem quite confused. "Where did you get this?"
"A… foodbank." Mable stated truthfully, not lying as she paused to think through her answer. "Why?"
"They… mislabeled the expiration date. Never seen the Administratum do that before. That's a shooting-offense. Deception and all that."
"Oh, wait, what?" Mable asked, never having thought to get the date from the cans or packaging… but realizing she had nothing to compare it to anyways.
"Yeah, it should say… 'Em-Forty-One, Nine-four-four.' This says 'Em-Forty-Two, Oh-Nine-Three.'" The man stated… and then looked up at her with a confused stare.
"Ha." Mable breathed awkwardly, letting out a cough as she smelled the dumpster again, and then, with a wince, spoke back to the man's original advice. "So, Spire Lorthanx? Planetary Defense Forces are there?"
"Oh, yep. They'll take any idiot that walks into their spire. If you want to be a soldier, or join the guard eventually… that's the place you'd go to get off-world." The man stated… and then bitterly commented. "Unless you pick a fight with a noble. Then, suddenly it doesn't matter what color you bleed, or what uniform you wear."
"Wow, that sounds awful." Mable stated, nodding her head… and then questioning the man who seemed to have been kicked out of the planetary defense forces. "What about the inquisition?"
"W-what? What are you wanting to see them for?"
"Uh, a guy named Priam told me about an Inquisitor Redmane. You wouldn't-"
She watched the man crawl to his feet and run before her clarification could be aired… and as she checked over her shoulder to see if someone was scaring him away. Realizing she was alone, slowly nodding at the fact that just saying the inquisitor's name had been enough to get a former veteran to run from her, Mable would look towards the platform… and wonder if the planetary defense forces would be safe from the neuro-toxin in the future. Also wondering if she should just… not go back to her time ever again, Mable would trot down the railway's platforms, looking for a way to get to 'Spire Lorthanx.'