Chelen City: Chapter Fourteen, Part Two

 Notes: the truth it out!

Title: Chelen City: Chapter Fourteen, Part Two

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Chapter Fourteen, Part Two

 

The crystallization of an idea was a crucial moment in the scientific process for Elanus. When he settled into deep brainstorming, into the almost meditative state where it was easier for him to follow the wisps of thoughts and see how they connected to the larger problem on the whole, sometimes the experience was…well, magical. Sometimes he got so deep, held himself there so long, that he was able to puzzle out some of the greatest mental challenges of his life. He’d come up with the central idea for Catalina’s AI in one of these sessions.

He’d also tried, years ago, to focus and fixate and fester with thoughts until he found a thread that tackled Elfshot Disease, which was one of the most frustrating endemic diseases in any modern society given how it operated, and he’d failed.

Over and over, he’d failed.

And now he knew why.

Elfshot Disease wasn’t one disease. It had the same presentation each time, but each generation of it attacked the body in a slightly different way, with emphasis on destabilizing different systems. Elanus’s generation attacked his skeleton first and foremost, which led to persistent osteopenia and bone deformation, which in turn led to muscular weakness and connective tissue damage and, sometimes, damage to the circulatory and lymphatic systems. Hence the strokes he’d occasionally suffered, and the ease with which he broke ribs.

The latest generation of the disease was different; it targeted the lymphatic system, leading to issues with immunity against illness, swelling and edema in joints, and terrible inflammation of the nodes and organs associated with the system. It was linked to sharp declines in health and, in some cases, death, even with Regen on hand. It was also strongly linked with depression—what a surprise.

The manifestations were different, but the disease was categorized the same because, somehow, it indicated nearly identical genetic markers when tested for despite everything. It was thought to be highly mutagenic, inexplicable, an accepted but dire lightning bolt strike from an ancient source that defied detection so well it might as well come from a wrathful god.

But this wasn’t the product of nature, or of a god. This was a manmade plague, a designer disease used to keep the strongest from rising too fast, too far. It was a weapon to be used to keep the lower classes where they ought to stay, and when the system failed to do so, it turned the would-be Daedaluses in Icaruses instead. Elanus was an outlier, and he knew it.

And he knew who was behind this, too.

Not Caria. For all that she was powerful, from an ancient and ignoble house, for all that she had the funds and connections to make this happen…it simply wasn’t her style. She wanted to wield the iron fist of diplomacy, not weaken her opponents with something out of her control. She had genuinely pulled for Elanus in the beginning, too—helped him when Deysan was too busy or just too much of a fucker to be bothered. She had helped target him for greatness, and had done the same to other students, some with Elfshot. It genuinely didn’t make a difference to her—talent was all that mattered.

And Fritz was out too. He just didn’t have the reach to make something like this happen; he didn’t move in elevated-enough circles yet. He was working hard to change that, but it would be years before he had access to the highest seats of power on the planet. He was ruthless enough, but he wasn’t in position.

That meant Restaria Sanclare. Darling Restaria, the cool, calm, and collected vice president of the entire fucking planet of Gania. The person who handled all planetary issues while President Moreno was busy off-world, hobnobbing and signing treaties. The person Elanus had been the next best thing to engaged to for two glorious years in university, sure that he’d found someone special. Someone as smart as him, someone as driven, someone as amazing.

And someone else with Elfshot, too.

He’d been the one to call things off, in the end—his growing corporate empire had taken him in one direction while Restaria’s political rise had taken xer in another. Too many missed dinners with people who should never be snubbed, too many lunch dates missed when his work ran over, too many breakfasts abandoned because of an emergency at the factory. It had been untenable, too rude to Restaria to continue as they were, and in the end the choice had been easy. The work came first, it always came first…until he made a family. Catie, and Lizzie…

And Kieron.

Elanus reached out through the implant before he even realized he was doing it. [Help me.]

[I’m coming.]

That was so…so Kieron. They could talk about whatever Elanus needed right now, without having to wait, but he never settled for that when he was close enough that they could talk face-to-face instead. One-point-four minutes later he came into the study and, oh so gently, touched Elanus’s face.

Elanus opened his eyes. He’d forgotten he’d closed them, and linking up with the house’s video monitoring meant he could see things through the implant anyway, but there was something special about using his own eyes to look at his lover. It gave him details that even the best camera would never be able to pick up. How could anything categorize a look like the one Kieron was giving him without being able to feel the warmth of his fingers at the same time, or see the pulse beat in his throat and resist reaching out with his lips to taste it, or…

“Talk to me,” Kieron said, still cupping his face. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

There was so much that Elanus hardly knew where to begin. Did he do a retrospective on the disease, explain the mutation theory and the ways that it was plainly wrong? Did he point the finger at Restaria first, explain his thoughts about xer’s involvement? Did he begin by exonerating the unconnected?

“I want to ruin someone, and I need you to help me not do that.” Because that was what he really felt like, honestly. There were threads to be tied up, yes, a few smoky tendrils to draw back down to the central flame, but the core of the idea was solid beyond a shadow of a doubt. The girls would be able to find him indelible proof in minutes, maybe less. His beautiful girls, who had been threatened by a virus just like Elfshot, one that mutated and destroyed and had taken everything he had to defeat.

“I can do that.”

Good, that was—oof, apparently he was helping by sitting down on Elanus’s lap and making himself comfortable. It was such a Kieron move, deliberately physical, palpable in a way so few things were. It was just what Elanus needed.

“You’re perfect,” he told Kieron in complete honestly. “And a little heavy.”

“You’re perfect too,” Kieron replied. “But you need to work out more, I’m not that heavy.”

Elanus tilted his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed, until he cried.

And Kieron was there, and held him through it, and Elanus didn’t burn down the world.

Not yet.