Opal Ward 2185
"Fuck that's good!"
Eiichi took in the taste of the beverage.
It was rich, chocolatey with a hint of coffee and a sharp kick stemming from a generous splash of rum.
"As good as the original?" grinned Moira, allowing more of her transatlantic accent than normal to enter her voice as she tightened her grip on her cup of the same beverage.
He tried to recall what the boozy mocha had tasted like at the original Green Dragon. The rum in this was if anything more expensive than what was offered at the old gaming café. The chocolate was richer and the coffee was smoother. Tasting it brought back countless of memories light night games of Catan and Talisman with his friends. However, drinking it didn't give it the same joy as it once did.
"Better!" he grinned doing his best to suppress the latter thought.
"How did you find such good rum?".
Moira gave him a sly look.
"I have my ways. There was a whole crate of the stuff that was being transported from the docks. It was 'liberated by the faithful' before it could reach its destination further into Omega. Most of the good stuff makes it the Ecclesiarch but a little here and there trickles out".
"Would you care to teach me then at some point?" Eiichi grinned.
"I have never been able to do anything substantial out of the Fraternis Militia. They are a shockingly insular bunch".
"Alas, I don't think I'll be around to do that" Moira replied sadly.
Eiichi's eyes widened in surprise.
"You're leaving?"
There had been cases of the shopocracy's members leaving, but those who did had far less to lose materially or socially than Moira, and crucially they did so well before the crusade.
"I made a deal with the Ecclesiarch" she answered.
"He needs me for a final project. Not sure what though. He keeps the whole thing highly compartmentalised, more so than usual. All I know is that whatever it is the power requirements are immense".
"What about the fighting?" Eiichi exclaimed.
"Getting in or out of the district cost many people their lives in recent days. Don't tell me you are going to use the old maintenance tunnels to escape!".
"Don't believe everything your daughter says" Moira replied in a tone of mock reproach.
"The screens will naturally make the escaping hear more dangerous than it seems to be. Besides, the borders will be secured by the time I leave. My Fraternis contacts tell me resistance is diminishing by the hour".
Moira paused for a second as she leaned forward grinning.
"You could come with me. Roam the open galaxy as you used to Eiichi! Regain adventure and excitement and abandon this mess of blood thirst and dogmatism".
Eiichi signed.
"I can't pick up and leave. Even after everything that's happened, I still have a life here, family, a home, responsibilities…" he trailed off and signed.
"You wouldn't understand Moira. You're too young."
He caught a flash in the woman's eyes; a sharp look of condescension that wizen elders have for recalcitrant youths. Though brief he felt strangely chastised.
Moira sighed and glanced away unnerved.
"I was in the same position as you for many years. I was part of a group, well a cult".
"You don't strike me like someone who'd join a cult" Eiichi frowned.
"It was very well disguised put it that way" she replied whilst downing the remains of her drink.
"We sought to change humanity to put us on the path to universal enlightenment, subtlety and through convert means. Some were scientists, others were politicians, bureaucrats, journalists, and influencers. All ambitious, driven and bubbling with energy. We felt like could change everything. I thought we could change everything…"
"What went wrong?" Eiichi asked.
"I stopped believing, despite my efforts. Not so much in our ideals but how our leader was implementing them. He was utterly driven. Inhumanely rational, cruel, arrogant, and too secretive about how his plans came to fruition. I couldn't work in that kind of environment."
"Must have been a hard decision to make" Eiichi murmured.
"It was. I was shocked at how frostily I was treated in the aftermath by people I thought of as friends. I can't blame them. I would do the same in their position given how many years we gave to his plan."
Moira frowned slightly as she replayed the memory in her head.
"The strangest reaction of all was our leader. He took the news calmly… It was as if he had been expecting it for a long time. Then he wished me well, provided that I didn't interfere with his plans"
She paused for a second as if processing a thought.
"I had hoped for something more. Rage, a heartfelt apology, denial or something…".
She trailed off.
"Regardless, I got out despite everything I gave to that man and his group"
She looked Eiichi straight in the eye with all the sincerity and wisdom she could muster.
"You can too".
Cerebus facility 006, The Terminus Systems, 2185
He washed his face in the basin.
His face.
Was it his face?
Or was it Turfan Kemal's?
There was an idea of a Turfan Kemal. Some kind of abstraction. Though many of his co-workers and lab assistants interacted with him, felt his warm flesh gripping there's via the odd firm handshake, and could guess that their lifestyles were comparable: it would be nothing more than an illusion.
An illusion?
Perhaps that was too strong a term.
He had created the role of this scientist, but he had lived and inhabited it long enough for the creation to take on a life of its own, rather than being a mere instrument of his will. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Turfan was an aspect.
A few core traits to pass through into Turfan, much how a father subconsciously imbues his son with his passions in adolescence. His love of science, irony, and literature. But he didn't impart his drive though, his need to shape the destiny of humanity, so it could deny horrors of the cosmos and reach its full potential.
He kept that to himself.
He looked at the face that was his in the mirror.
On the cusp of middle age, but handsome in a plain way, his gold-brown skin worn in a way that appeared rustic. His eyes were a deep serious brown, much like his long hair he kept in a ponytail.
He ceased the train of thought.
He would consult the datapad again.
He had to be sure.
Cerberus had no doubt paid the shadow broker handsomely for this highly confidential Morgan Galactic report. The prospect of laser-based weaponry being deployed at scale could reshape warfare in the galaxy at scale, even though the report only offers a rudimentary explanation of its technical workings and scientific principles. What was more intriguing was its design, which was shockingly primitive even by Terminus Systems standards and looked like something produced out of Dearborn in its prime.
It was the two-headed eagle with one head blinded on the pistol's mid-section that stood out to him the most. An old symbol of numerous long-gone empires on this alleged laser weapon. However, unlike the Habsburg or Romanov embolden this had a more robust industrial design to it. A bleeding edge weapon, with Fordist recreation of symbol of a manorial and blatantly imperial past.
Such a blatant anachronism may have amused him, but not after what he had seen. He had seen it in his visions in the months after Sovereign attacked the Citadel.
A herald of the demise of the human species.
A herald of a carrion lord.
A herald of the laughter of thirsting Gods.