Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Eleven, Part Two

 Notes: It's almost the new year, darlins! Let's go into it more kindly than Kieron is, shall we?

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Eleven, Part Two

***

Chapter Eleven, Part Two

 

Half an hour into his reluctant stay in Carlisle’s room, Kieron was forced to admit that she was right. There was no easy escape from this place. He’d need more supplies than he had to make a real go of it, not to mention retrieving Blobby. Given that he didn’t know the layout of the compound, it was just as likely that he’d free himself from her room only to emerge into someone else’s instead of outside, where he might be able to do something about it.

But that wasn’t unexpected. He’d come along knowing that he was going to have to be patient when it came to planning his escape. His odds got way better once he was outside; it might be the stormy season on Hadrian’s Colony, but that only meant he’d have decent cover when he decided to make his move. Perhaps they thought the storms would dissuade him, make him less likely to do something they considered rash.

Ha. He’d lived on Cloverleaf Station for years, one rogue asteroid away from being nothing but a smear of frozen DNA floating through the cosmos. Rain, thunder, lightning, giant lizards—nothing was going to stop him from getting back to Elanus and Catie. Nothing.

Kieron’s hands were trembling. He grimaced, but he knew a sign when he saw one. He forced himself to relax enough to think about his family. It was dangerous, opening his emotional walls up and realizing the depth of the emotions he was having about his loved ones, but bottling it up for too long would only result in it exploding at probably just the wrong time. Right now he could afford to be strategic, so he sat on the couch, leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and—

Shots echoing in the air. Catie’s door closing rapidly, clunkily, Elanus shouting inside of her as she screams in pain and fear, trying to escape from a whole new form of confrontation. Elanus split between his fear for his daughter and his desperate worry for Kieron and Blobby, alone out there on the plains, maybe already being hunted down,  maybe shot, maybe hurt, maybe dead.

But Catie, he’s got to help his girl, and he struggles to the pilot’s chair and does his best to steady her wild ride and make sure they’re not being followed. Sees what she’s lost—communications, maybe fuel, maybe worse. Maybe her core program is damaged, her beautiful, intricate brain, the thing that makes their girl an individual with feelings. Maybe she’ll never be the same again. Maybe she’s permanently altered by this fuckery, maybe her landing gear isn’t working, maybe she’s about to crash.

She falls out of the sky and it’s all Elanus can do not to break another leg as they hit the ground hard enough to knock him out.

Everything is dark, hopeless. Kieron is alone.

The sound of the door opening knocked Kieron out of his painful reverie. He shot to his feet and immediately walked into the bathroom before Carlisle could see the wetness on his face. He heard her enter the main room, but luckily she didn’t call out to him. He wasn’t sure he could answer in the moment.

Fuck, that had been brutal. That was the point, of course—imagining the worst-case scenario took the sting out of it, made it so that a part of your psyche had already confronted the ultimate loss which then allowed you to move through the world with a sense of grim determination. This was one of the earliest mindset tricks Kieron had learned here on the Colony, but he’d been terrible at it as a child. He’d already been in so much pain, deliberately imagining himself in more of it had been next to impossible.

Funny that he should end up so good at it now.

He ran the water in the sink, which came out a rusty yellowish-gray, and made the sounds of washing up while he actually cleaned his teary face off and made sure his eyes weren’t too red or swollen. The last thing he wanted to do was let these fuckers know he’d been crying.

It was going to be okay. The worst-case scenario hadn’t happened—Elanus was way too sharp for that, Catie far too vibrant and in love with life. They were fighters, both of them, and they had each other. Kieron trusted in Elanus to keep Catie safe, and he knew that Elanus trusted him with Blobby. They respected each other’s abilities—it was the only way they were able to live together. Otherwise Elanus became too controlling and Kieron became too recalcitrant. They had to acknowledge each other’s expertise to make their love, their family, work.

“Desfontaines?”

“What?” he called out, pleased that his voice sounded normal.

“You need to come with me.”

Well, that sounded pleasant. “What for?” he asked, taking one last look at himself before opening the bathroom door. Carlisle was standing just outside it, a frown on her elegant face. “I was under the impression it was nighttime. Aren’t all of your people supposed to be asleep?”

“Good effort at getting our guard roster out of me,” she replied, and he shrugged because, yeah, of course he had to try. “Our leader wants to meet you.”

Oh good. It was Big Boss time. “Who’s your leader?”

“Not someone to be kept waiting.” She stepped aside and gestured impatiently to him. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

Kieron wished he had a few more minutes to lock down the painful emotions he’d let rage just minutes ago, but the barriers he’d hastily constructed would have to do. He’d get through this meeting, undoubtedly another cavalcade of threats and insinuation with maybe some physical punishment thrown in as well, and then he’d get back to figuring out how to get out of here.

Having a solid goal helped short up his psyche, and he was confident in his poker face as Carlisle led the way out of the room and down the hall, turning left instead of right as they’d gone before.

Kieron memorized his steps and surroundings, and by the time they got to the room with double doors—a singular feature he hadn’t seen anywhere else in this heap yet, he’d remember that—he was confident he’d be able to retrace his steps if he needed to. It was fine. Everything was fine. He was calm, he was in control, he had the situation handled.

Carlisle, her lips compressed into a tight line, pressed her palm to the reader outside the doors. They swished open with a bit of a rattle, and then she led Kieron into a dark room—yet another dark room, were these people afraid of light or something?—and over to a broad chair that was turned away from them. On the other side of it was a holographic tactical table, the sort of thing military commanders sometimes used to show the positions of troops on the battlefield. Kieron barely got to glance at the terrain shown there before it blanked out, leaving a flat blue field behind.

“Sir,” Carlisle said respectfully, her hands crossed behind her back. Kieron crossed his over his chest instead, his hands uncommonly fluttery. The chair turned, slowly, and—

“Took you long enough,” rumbled from the twisted mouth of Eleazar Hadrian, and Kieron—

Kieron lost—

All sense—

Of himself, as the present turned into the painful past, too close to veer away from or push aside for later. He saw the hateful, broken body of his grandfather and decades worth of pent-up anger burst out of him like a tsunami.

He lunged, one hand rearing back to punch even as the other went for the old man’s throat—

And the world dissolved into agony.

Merry early Christmas!

 Hey darlins,

I'm not posting this week because FAMILY, omg family so much family, but I just want to let you all know how much I appreciate you. This is my oldest platform for posting work--I started this back in the Peace Corps days, which--holy wow. Long time ago. Whether you've been here since the beginning or not, whether you left and came back or are new to the game, please know how much I treasure you and your time. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I'm so grateful for you.

Much love, many hugs, a little ax throwing, and happy holidays :)

Lord of Unkindness Ch. 23

 Notes: Happy reunion time! Let me give them this before we start shit again...

Title: Lord of Unkindness Ch. 23

***

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Ciro isn’t entirely sure how it happens, but a second after Annette says “hi” her arms are around him, wrapping his waist in warmth and a vaguely familiar sense of support that he hasn’t had in…years now. That was what hugging Annette always felt like, to him—like hugging family. She had been his fiancée, but their love was purely platonic, a sweet side-effect of the necessity of their togetherness. They’d been prepared to be friends, to be partners, to be family before his fucking family had messed it all up.

Ciro slowly wraps his arms around her shoulders, looking past her at where Angelo is just getting out of the car. His lover looks tired, but when he sees the two of them together a pleased smile crosses his handsome face. Ciro manages to smile back before he sees his fucking magic alight on Angelo’s shoulder. “Get it!” he shouts, but the damn bird takes off again before Angelo has a chance to do more than turn his head.

Angelo watches the bird fly off and says, “Wait. Was that…”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you let it outside?”

“It was fine very other time I let it outside!”

“Call it back!”

“You think I haven’t tried that already?” Ciro blinks when he realizes his arms are shaking—not because of anything he’s doing, but because Annette, who he’s still holding onto, is giggling helplessly. As she looks up, a warm weight twines itself around Ciro’s ankles before vanishing into the house.

He barely has time to catch sight of the large orange cat before Annette says, “I think it’ll be okay. Your magic knows what it’s doing.” She pulls back and looks at Ciro, really looks at him for a long moment. “Honey, you look like shit.”

Ciro starts to laugh. He can’t help it. Everything that’s happened to him over the past year has been so awful, by and large, and yet here he is: in a safe place, with the man he adores and the woman he thought was dead and gone, and both of them are looking at him like he’s a little crazy.

“What’s so funny?” Angelo asks as he comes up next to them, a Starbucks in one hand and his sunglasses in the other.

“I was just thinking that I clearly have a type,” Ciro says, and that gets a smile out of them. “Annette…” The emotions that surge in the wake of his relief and pleasure are less enjoyable, but he has to get them out. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I said it before, but I don’t think you really heard it back then.” He picks her hands up and brings them to his mouth, kissing the backs of them. “I’m so, so sorry for what happened to you. For what Nephele did, and for what my family let her do. I should have pushed back against them sooner, I should have done something, I—”

“Oh honey, no.” She pulls her hands free just to wrap him up again, and this time Ciro can’t stop the tears that start to fall. Angelo is easing them inside and closing the door but all Ciro can do it hold on to Annette and try to be there for her as they fall apart together. “It was never your fault,” she says wetly. “I  always knew that. We could have been smarter, I knew Nephele hated me, but my parents didn’t want to risk offending your family by showing any less than our full strength. They wanted me to marry you more than they wanted me to be safe, and…they still don’t know I’m alive.” She shakes her head. “Only Jocelyn and Angelo know, before now. I wanted to tell you eventually, but I couldn’t while you were still with your family, and then you vanished and I feared the worst.”

“They wouldn’t kill me.”

“They’d do so much worse.”

She’s not wrong. They could go on like this for hours, hash out old grievances and commiserate over how truly fucked up their parents are, but Ciro doesn’t have the heart for it right now. Not when the music is playing at a quicker, happier pace because Angelo is back in the house, not when he’s already in the kitchen making coffee and food, not when Annette is here and safe and seems happy enough, even though she’s only got one familiar left, and—

“Shit.”

“What?”

Ciro sighs and recounts the story of how his magic took off this morning as Annette pulls him over to the couch, where her orange cat curls up in her lap once they sit down. Angelo brings coffee over for all of them, and by the end of the tale Angelo is grinning and Annette is swatting him for it, and Ciro feels more like a regular person than he can ever remember.

“Well, I don’t know why your familiar decided to take off,” Annette says, “but we can make this work. It’ll be harder when you don’t have a well of external magic to draw on right in front of you—” she pets her cat, who purrs with satisfaction “—but that’s how I started too.”

“I can go outside and look for it,” Angelo adds. “It might come to me again.”

“I bet it will.” It’s very evident to Ciro that his familiars have a soft spot for Angelo. It’s hardly surprising, seeing as he did too, but being down to a single manifestation of his magic was illuminating in a lot of ways. The way his magic favored Angelo when given the chance, the way it wanted to be around him and on him and with him—that was just what Ciro wanted to do but didn’t have the same excuse for, wasn’t it? He had to act like an independent adult when the more visceral, vital part of himself really just wanted to graft on to Angelo and not let go.

Letting go the first few times had been so fucking hard. Now that he’s let himself have this level of closeness, of intimacy, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to give it up again.

Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe Ciro is right and we can make this all work out somehow in the end. Oh shit, speaking of things working out…

“Maria came by yesterday,” Ciro says, flushing with exasperation at himself for only now remembering her frantic visit.

Angelo blinks in surprise. “Really? She didn’t call me…what did she want?”

“I don’t know,” Ciro confesses. “I…didn’t actually open the door for her. I didn’t say anything, in fact. I’m sorry, I probably should have, but—”

“No.” Angelo is firm on that. “You did the right thing. She knows she’s supposed to call before coming here.”

“Maybe she tried and couldn’t get through,” Annette suggests.

“Maybe…” Angelo gets up and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll try her now.” He heads for the bedroom and closes it behind him. Ciro keeps watching the door until a gentle touch on his arm brings him out of his reverie.

Annette smiles sympathetically. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she says with a bit of regret. “I can’t stay away from home for long.”

“I’m sorry Angelo dragged you out here just to help me with magic problems,” Ciro says.

“I’m not sorry.” Her grip on him strengthens for a moment before she finally lets go. “Not at all. I’m grateful for the chance to be with you again, Ciro. More than I can say. Now.” She lets go and sits back. “Let’s talk about magic.”

Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Eleven, Part One

 Notes: We've arrived at base! Time to start fucking some shit up :)

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Eleven, Part one

***

Chapter Eleven, Part One

 

It was dark out when they disembarked from the rackety ship after landing. Kieron couldn’t see much—he didn’t have advanced implants and wouldn’t have wanted them if he could have them, since his early training was enough to make him paranoid more than he wanted to be—but he lifted Blobby slightly out of the pack so he could get a recording as they walked across the gritty landing field toward low, flat buildings in the distance that were entirely blacked out except for faint reflective markers along the base of them.

No one had come to meet them, but Kieron knew that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched. On the contrary; if this operation was run by his mother, then they were definitely being watched. Monitored in person, via video surveillance, and probably via low satellite as well. “Three sets of eyes,” he remembered learning as a child. “Always have at least three ways of monitoring your target before you strike.” Good thing they hadn’t carried that lesson into the field, or Elanus and Catie might not have gotten away.

Trapper was the first to disengage from the group once they got to the main building. “I’m gonna go talk to the boss,” he said gruffly, not quite meeting Carlisle’s eye. “Give him an update on the situation.”

Wait. Carlisle isn’t the boss? That was news to Kieron. She certainly acted like the boss.

“Fine,” Carlisle replied, not sounding put-off or surprised by that. Instead, she disregarded Trapper immediately after and looked over at Alissa and Doubles. “You ought to check in with the medic just in case,” she advised Doubles. “The extra color’s mostly gone, but a little Regen would help mend the broken blood vessels faster.”

“Doc’s not gonna give me Regen for a little thing like that,” Doubles said with a sigh.

“He might, we’ve got a bit of a surplus after the last job,” Lis said unexpectedly. “Worth a try.”

“Tell him I authorized it,” Carlisle added.

“Boss won’t like that.”

“The boss can talk to me about it.” Lis took her at her word and shuffled Doubles away as fast as she could, and Carlisle finally turned to Kieron. “So.” She folded her arms over her chest in the dark hallway, as grimy and gritty as the rest of this world. “That leaves you.”

Kieron smiled. “Where’s my cell?”

“You don’t necessarily have to go to a cell.”

Bullshit. “I doubt whoever your boss is would agree with you. Trapper is already reporting me as a hostile to them.”

“If you’re willing to put yourself in my hands, I can put you under personal house arrest. You’ll be confined to my quarters and won’t be able to leave without an escort, but it’s better than being in the cells, trust me.”

He didn’t trust her at all, but that was okay. She clearly didn’t trust him either, and thought keeping a close eye on him was safer than handing him over into someone else’s watch. “Sounds good.”

“You have the hand over the gear, though.”

Kieron pulled his pack a little closer to his chest. “No.”

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. Since it was the eyebrow over her missing eye, the effect was pretty strange, but the intent still came across okay. “You’re going to have to hand it over either way. I can put it into a secure storage locker where no one can get it out except for me, or I can throw it into general supplies. Our quartermaster will have it taken apart and repurpose its battery in under a day if that’s what you want.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck— Blobby wasn’t the same as Catie and Lizzie. At least, not yet. But he was more than just a machine, more than an AI-powered automaton. He was an eager, obedient, bumbling little kid of a bot, and the thought of letting go of him was painful. But if someone tried to disassemble him…Blobby wouldn’t let that happen if it wasn’t Elanus, and that would cause trouble for both of them that Kieron wasn’t ready for. “Fine,” he said at last.

“You can have it until after we get to my place,” Carlisle said graciously, then set off down the corridor, confident that Kieron was following her. And why wouldn’t she be confident, he acknowledged with a silent huff. She’d dug inside of him and hollowed out the things that mattered in record time. Not even Elanus could match her skill at information gathering, not that he’d ever tried to be subtle.

Kieron fell in behind her, dipping one hand inside the bag as he went to tap out a message to Blobby. Morse code…it was such a tedious way of communicating, but Catie had gone through a phase for a few weeks where it was the only way she wanted to talk, and she’d refused to translate. Kieron had learned out of sheer self-defense, and then once he was finally starting to feel confident Catie had decided to speak in binary instead.

He wasn’t even sure Blobby knew Morse code, but it was worth a shot.

Going…to…be…apart. Be…safe. Be…careful. Be…quiet. I’ll…find…you. He wanted to add more, to tell Blobby he didn’t have to be afraid, that he should be sure not to let anyone figure out what he really was, but then Carlisle was opening a door with a palm print and a twist of a key around her neck. The lights flickered on as she walked in, then motioned for Kieron to follow her. “Kitchen,” she said as they entered. “Sitting room. Bedroom. Bathroom.” She pointed to the couch. “You’ll be sleeping there.”

“Homey,” Kieron said dryly as he looked around at the distinct lack of personal touch. The walls were a dirty beige, the floor was the color of mud with no carpet in sight, the furniture was all scarred, repurposed military stock.

“The communication devices are here and here.” She pointed to a spot on the wall by the door, and then toward her bedroom. “They’re set to shock anyone who isn’t me, so I wouldn’t try using them if I were you. The door locks at my touch and can’t be reprogrammed by anyone else, so don’t try. There are no windows, so you won’t be able to climb out, and the ventilation system is too small for you to crawl through.”

“You’ve thought a lot about how I might try to escape from here.”

“I’ve thought a lot about how anyone might try to escape,” Carlisle replied. “Part of my job.” Her comm beeped, and she listened to whatever message was coming through with a frown. “I’ve got a meeting.” Probably with her boss. “I’ll put your things in storage on the way.”

Kieron uneasily handed over his pack. “Be careful with it.”

“I will be. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course not.” Mutual distrust in place, Carlisle let herself out again. Kieron was a little surprised by how much the sight of her leaving with Blobby hurt even as he tucked a small, singular piece of the bot into his pocket. Just a sensor…but he might be able to use it to help him find Blobby later on. If he couldn’t, Elanus sure as hell could.

Next up…figuring out how to get the hell out of here. Kieron was under no illusion that he’d be allowed this sort of freedom for long, so he needed to make the most of it.