Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twenty-Four, Part One

 Notes: Oh my goodness, are we almost done? I think we're almost done! Wow! This one's been a bit of a wild ride, huh? One more week to wrap it up and then...I don't know what happens next! Obviously we've got to resolve things on Trakta, but I'm still working out the details of how. I might write a shortie fic in between to cleanse my mental palate. We'll see!

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twenty-Four, Part One

***

 

Chapter Twenty-Four, Part One

 

Photo by Geronimo Giqueaux 

 

It was easy to be quiet, in the aftermath.

There was nothing for Kieron to do. No heavy lifting, no investigation, no preparation. Lizzie nailed the drop with all the propulsion equipment that Catie was going to need to get back into space, and it was mostly preassembled. The last bits were tricky enough that only Elanus could see them through, so that left the rest of them with a lot of time on their hands.

Bobby didn’t speak audibly, just tapped when he wanted to say something. Elanus had already offered to outfit him with a voice system, but Bobby had declined for now. “But don’t you want to be able to talk to people who don’t understand Morse code?” Elanus had asked, and Bobby had simply replied, [No thank you.] And that was that, for now at least. And Carlisle…

She didn’t speak much to anyone. She hardly made eye contact with Kieron—which was strange, because she made plenty of eye contact with Elanus. They were antagonistic, but in a teasing way, able to engage in an almost lighthearted fashion that was simply impossible with Kieron. He wanted to be offended, wanted to have the energy to rage and demand answers, to wonder what it had all been for if she was just going to ignore him now, and yet…he didn’t. He didn’t have that energy. He felt detached, almost entirely dissociated from his body. Floaty, and distant, and still.

Elanus had noted it, because of course he had. “You need better medical care than we can give you in the middle of nowhere,” he muttered as he laid a hand on Keiron’s forehead in an embarrassing act of checking his temperature.

“Sorry, Daddeeee,” Catie said sadly. “I did the best thaaat I could.”

“I know you did, baby, you did great.”

“You did great,” Kieron echoed, because it was true and because it was all he could think to say in the moment. He wished he could do more, but he just felt…empty. Hollow.

Coming here had changed nothing for him. Nothing. He didn’t have any deeper understanding of himself or his past actions. He hadn’t been gifted with any new memories of the time between when he started at Cloverleaf Station and when he woke up in Elanus’s house on Gania, Regened right out of his own mind. He had all the feelings he’d had before—more, even, shame and anger on top of the love like some sickening cauldron that bubbled inside of him, threatening to spill over and fill the emptiness with its toxicity. All he’d done here was make himself worse.

And save his mother, but she didn’t even want to be saved, so…

Bobby tapped out something from where he sat in Kieron’s lap. [Breathe, Papa.]

Kieron tapped back, “I’m breathing.”

[Breathe better.] So Kieron made an effort, and Bobby hummed and settled in once more, and that was all Kieron spoke for the whole day, and that was all right.

With the limited capacity he had for emotion right now, he was rather surprised that his family was taking his silence so well. Not that Elanus and Catie couldn’t carry a conversation for days just the two of them, and they did a good job of drawing Lizzie and Xilinn and even Ryu into everything from technical discussions to simple chatting, but they didn’t push him to speak. No one did, and Kieron was all right with that. He knew it couldn’t last, but there was something nice about not having to work to put anyone else at ease right now.

The countdown to getting off Hadrian’s Colony changed, it seemed, on a daily basis. As soon as the chassis was in place, they had to make sure the fuel cells weren’t compromised; as soon as the fuel cells were verified, they had to recheck the chassis; as soon as Catie was secure, they had to find the best break in the weather to attempt it. That was the hardest part, and it took a week of concerted effort on both Catie and Lizzie’s parts to independently choose the same window for takeoff.

And they had five minutes to make the most of it. “—because the layer of frozen methane shifted unexpectedly by several thousand meters, Elanus, and—”

“I believe you, baby, I believe you,” Elanus said as he rapidly moved about the cabin, prepping the living space for launch as fast as he could. There were only two chairs and there was no question who was sitting in them, but he’d already fabricated a harness that could clip to the wall and floor for Carlisle. She sat in the makeshift seat without complaint, her expression steady. Kieron watched Elanus buckle her in, then distractedly did the same for himself.

“Shoulder straps.”

“Hmm?” He looked up at Elanus, who was gazing at him with an obscure blend of patience and pain on his face.

“Shoulder straps, darling. You forgot them.”

“Oh.” So he had. He started over, not objecting when Elanus double-checked his work before sitting down himself. Bobby extended a set of legs over Kieron’s ankles and settled in down low, and then it was time to go.

The chassis that Lizzie had deployed for her sister was a bulky circular thing, a bit like a belt, that integrated into Catie’s midline structure and fuel system. It was essentially a donut-shaped rocket capable of generating immense lift, not so great for steering or fine control. Catie was going to be using all her personal resources to keep them on course while using the rocket to power them through the storm, which…the rain seemed thick to Kieron, lashing at her viewscreen and occasionally pelting it with pieces of grass that the wind had whipped up.

“Running eeengine check.” A series of numbers flew by on the control panel, percentages that meant little to Kieron but were clearly relevant considering how Elanus pored over them.

“Looks good, sweetheart, how’s the telemetry?”

“Gooood, Daddeee.”

“Still solid, Elanus,” Lizzie said. “But you’ve got to go in the next thirty-two seconds if you’re going to hit the window.”

“Copy that, baby. Catie, let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, Daddeeee.”

The rumble that accompanied her engine coming online was genuinely startling. Catie was usually as soft as a whisper compared to other ships, but the chassis propelled her noise level up by a thousand percent. Kieron actually had to cover his ears, the roar became so loud. He couldn’t feel the heat of the fire she was spewing, but he knew the ground beneath them had to be scorched. After a ten-second buildup, Catie launched into the air so hard Kieron felt like his lungs had been punctured. He was driven down into his seat, G-forces too heavy to resist, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

It had to be worse for Elanus, but he was still looking at numbers and talking to Catie. Shouting, more like, but he had to if he was going to be heard over the noise. “You’ve got this, baby, hit the line, hit the line…we’re off by a kilometer. West, baby, we’re off by two kilometers…shift us, baby, shift us or we’re going to hit the ice!”

“I’m tryyyying, Daddeee! The power is—” There was a ka-chunk, and a piece of ice broke apart over her viewscreen. “Ow!”

“Cut power to the right side!”

No arguments—Catie cut power, and the ship began to spin wildly, hurtling across the high sky instead of up.

“Restart in three, two—now!”

The chassis engine flared to life immediately, stilling their spin so fast that Kieron’s stomach could barely hold itself together. Carlisle couldn’t; he heard her retch, but there was nothing he could do to help. They began to ascend again, and this time…

“We’re in liiine, Daddee!”

“Good girl, you’ve got this, we’re close to breakout. Hold it steady, sweetheart, hold it steady…almost there.” Catie rumbled and roared, the force of the chassis so intense Kieron wondered that his girl was able to keep herself together under so much force. If she ran into trouble in the upper atmosphere, there was nothing anyone would be able to do.

She’s fine. Catie knows herself, she knows what she can do. Elanus is helping her. Straining, Kieron reached his closest hand out to the control panel and laid it near one of her sensors. He couldn’t speak, but he could still communicate. I’m here too, baby, you’ve got this.

It took a moment for Kieron to realize the noise had stopped, his ears were ringing so hard. Catie cut the extra engines, and the whine died down to nothing as he realized her viewscreen had gone black. And there, in the distance, was another very familiar ship.

The viewscreen came to life, and they got visuals for the first time since reconnecting with Lizzie and her crew.

“You made it!” Xilinn exclaimed, squeezing her son so hard that the boy tried to wriggle away even as he laughed. “Oh ancestors, oh thank you, you’re all right.”

Ryu, beside her, was less expressive but still gave them a grin. “It’s good to be out of there, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Elanus said, beaming at the others.

Kieron blinked and stared, taking them all in, and then the view switched to exterior. Lizzie’s skin was tinted pink, and Catie began to giggle.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Lizzie chided her sister, then—“Kee.”

Kieron finally found the strength to raise his head. “Hey, Lizzie,” he murmured, feeling lighter than he had since he woke up. “It’s good to see you again.”

Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards, Ch. 8 Pt. 1

 Notes: Let's have our potential lovers sit down for an actual conversation, hmm?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards, Ch. 8 Pt. 1

***

Chapter Eight, Part One

 

Photo by Kasem Sleem

Peverell’s Demon

 

“What do you carry for nightmares?”

A startlingly blunt question to begin a conversation with, but Hiram couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued. He contemplated the man in front of him for a moment, took in the light in his eyes and the faint curve at the corners of his lips, and after a moment he said, “That would depend upon the strength and the source of the nightmares, Master…”

“Surrus. Avery Surrus.” The smile edging those lips blossomed for a moment. “Lollop’s schoolmaster.”

“Ah.” Hiram felt a surge of gratification. “I thought as much. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

Master Surrus chuckled. “From the Neven clan, yes? I’m not as beastly as my dear students say, I assure you.”

“I would never accuse you of such a thing,” Hiram replied. “Children aren’t always the best character witnesses.” Sometimes they were, of course—sometimes they were spot on, but a teacher could encompass fear, faith, appreciation, and resentment all in the same breath. Still… “No one has said anything ill of you in my presence, so your reputation is safe as far as I’m concerned.”

“As is yours,” Master Surrus said, but there was a hint of something else in his voice. “Or perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘safe,’ since I’ve heard a great many reports about you since your arrival in Lollop and not all of them agree. Rather, let me say that you seem to be a man of much interest.”

Ah. He’s fishing. Not really surprising, considering how many people had come by his stall this morning with no intention to buy, just wanting a bit of conversation. Still, it was a trifle disappointing. Back to the matter at hand. “Tell me more of your nightmares, Master Surrus.”

The young man nodded like he hadn’t just been put off. “They take an unfortunately broad number of forms, I’m afraid. Most often they creep up on me at night, but occasionally I’m lost to them during the day.”

Interesting. “Do you suffer from waking nightmares, then?”

Master Surrus nodded stiffly. “From time to time.”

That was rather serious. “How long has this been going on?”

“Oh, for years now,” Master Surrus replied with more than a bit of fatigue in his voice. “For a time it wasn’t so bad, but recently it seems like they’re increasing in duration and intensity.”

“Was there a catalyzing event for these nightmares?”

He smiled again, a barely-there curve. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Hmm.” This was beginning to sound more like the domain of a priest, but there had to be a reason the young man was coming to Hiram instead of them. Perhaps they’d tried and failed to cure his mental affliction, or perhaps he was afraid they would dig too deeply into his psyche. At the very least, Hiram could give him a good start to his sleep. He began to dig through his sachets, looking for ones he could combine for better effect.

“Let me give you something to start your night off sweetly. Chamomile.” He tapped three of the bags into a small ceramic jar, then added a spoonful of tiny stone fruits he’d found at the back edge of his garden. “Sour cherries. And some of this.” He retrieved the ground valerian root he’d brought all the way from Galenish and poured a spoonful of that in as well. He shook the jar to mix it, then contemplated it for a moment and added the last of his packages of chamomile. “Soak a spoonful’s worth in warm milk at night—water if you don’t care for milk, but no alcohol—and drink it down a few minutes before you go to bed. It should give you a head start on a good night’s sleep. It should certainly suffice to keep your dreams pleasant through the length  of a nap.”

Master Surrus’s expression was a trifle…disappointed, it seemed. “Thank you.” He shook his head. “I suppose it would be too much to hope you had a Peverell’s Demon on hand.”

Hiram laughed with delight. He couldn’t stop himself; it had been a very long time since he’d heard that particular name brought up. “Are you trained in the classical philosophies, then?”

Master Surrus blinked. “You know of Peverell’s Demon?”

“Who doesn’t? A creature devoid of desire except to serve, but only able to do so in a manner that is both destructive and creative at the same time, in equal measure. A hypothetical posited to students of many different stripes, so that they can examine their own biases and thoughts with relation to their field of study.”

Master Surrus nodded encouragingly, his smile back full force. “A gentle introduction to discussion and, more importantly, to disagreement. Not to mention finding a creative and hopefully positive solution to a problem.”

“Indeed.” Hiram chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, it’s been a long time since I’ve contemplated Peverell’s Demon, Master Surrus. Not since I was a student myself.”

The other man sat back a bit farther in the other chair, his gaze contemplative. “And what does a student of herbology make of Peverell’s Demon, Master Emblic?”

In truth, most herbalists would know nothing of this particular philosophical construct. It acted as a thought experiment to those who went into more esoteric fields of study, which herbalism decidedly wasn’t. But Hiram was enjoying the conversation and wanted to draw it out a bit longer. Tilda wasn’t back yet…there was no one waiting for his services…what could it hurt?

“An interesting question,” he said after a moment. “The most direct application of this particular Demon lies in the harvest of ingredients for the things an herbalist makes. That’s destruction and creation in equal measure. However, the same could be said of most types of healer, or even a farmer, so that’s not a very compelling or unique example. Let us consider your particular predicament, Master Surrus.” He idly rolled the jar back and forth in his hands as he spoke. “You wish to be free from your nightmares. Nightmares in and of themselves are creatures that can have many different layers and distinctions. Without knowing how to name your nightmare or the depths from which it springs, I cannot outright kill it with the tricks of my particular trade. Even if I could, it’s likely other parts of you would be affected. Parts you’d rather keep whole.”

This was the point in a conversation where a normal sort of person would blink or look away, but Master Surrus didn’t so much as twitch. “And so I must dance around this nightmare instead and create a different sort of barrier,” Hiram went on. “Something less effective than an outright assassin, but more effective than a child with a pointy stick.”

“I don’t know about that,” Master Surrus murmured. “Children with pointy sticks can be quite dangerous.”

“I daresay you’d know best. Nevertheless, and at the risk of belaboring the metaphor, in your case the Demon cannot seek outright destruction. It can only seek to tame, and so Peverell would say this is a weak example of the good to which this predicament is applicable. Personally, though, I would say that murder is always a serious undertaking, whether you’re slaying your nightmare or someone else’s, and that softening is as good a place to start as any.”

He set the jar down on the table and reached for one of the empty sachets, stretched it over the top, and bound it in place with a piece of leftover twice. “This should last you until the next Market Day,” he said, focusing on the knot he was making instead of the weight of those bright blue eyes. “Come back then and let me know how it works for you.” When Master Surrus reached for his money, Hiram shook his head. “A fair exchange for an interesting bit of conversation,” he said as he held out the jar.

Master Surrus stared at him for a long moment before saying, “I don’t think my value as a conversational partner is so high.”

“I get to be the judge of that, I’m afraid.”

“No, truly. I can’t…I can’t accept this for free.” When Hiram started to speak again, Master Surrus shook his head, then leaned in close. “Let me give you a useful bit of advice instead, if you don’t mind. The High Cleric of Melemor is a true devotee of his god, but his ability with prayer is akin to attacking with a glass bludgeon. He strikes hard at the most obvious targets, but he can only strike once. If you were to for some reason be called out during a service and asked to confess your lies before his god, it wouldn’t be impossible for a mind like yours to position only that which you were prepared to share front and center for the blow.” Master Surrus held his eyes as he took hold of the jar, then stood. “Thank you for your time, Master Emblic.”

“Hiram.” It felt important to break down this particular barrier before he left. “Please, call me Hiram.”

Master Surrus smiled. “You may call me Avery, but not where my students can hear you. I’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all.” Then he turned and walked away, and Hiram was left feeling a trifle breathless for no good reason.

“I know why, you horny old—”

“Shut up, Phlox.”

 

Hadrian's Colony: Interlude: Carlisle Pt. Two

 Notes: Time to finish up this riveting conversation and get this show on the road! Gravity wave...space lane...whatever.

PS, it's raining in Colorado today--like, a LOT of rain--and now I really want hot chocolate. Gonna have to go get me some of that as soon as I get this posted. 

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Interlude: Carlisle Pt. Two

***

Interlude: Carlisle Pt. 2

 

 

Photo by Giancarlo Duarte

 

 She wanted to lash out at him. What do you know about his pain, or mine? But that would be another misstep, she was sure of it. Carlisle stared coldly for a moment before saying, “I need fresh clothes.”

“In the drawer behind you.” A seam appeared in the wall that Carlisle was certain hadn’t been there before, and she found sleep clothes with built-in undergarments and socks inside. They were long-sleeved, and the cloth adjusted to fit her as she slid into it, then—a wave of warmth rippled over her body, and she stared down at the clothes with incomprehension. How—

“It warms or cools based on species assessment and ambient temperatures if you’re more than a few percentage points off normal,” Desfontaines told her. “You can turn that functionality off if you don’t care for it.”

“No,” Carlisle said hoarsely. “No, I…it’s fine.” It was more than fine, it was the first time she’d felt warm in days, maybe weeks. Maybe longer. She wasn’t going to thank this arrogant son of a bitch for it, though.

“Good. Want anything else? Water? Food?”

Both sounded good, now that she felt more assured that he wasn’t going to throw her into a storage compartment or something. “Yes.”

Desfontaines got up and moved over to the small mess area, sliding a door back to reveal a plethora of boxes and cans. He dispensed hot water from a tap in the wall into a mug, then added two scoopfuls of powder to it. Every move he made was economical, and unnaturally quiet too. Carlisle didn’t quite know why, until she realized he was standing right beside Kieron.

He’s trying not to wake him. Well. Say what you would about this asshole—and she could say a lot—but at least he was dedicated to her—to Kieron.

He grabbed something else out of the cabinet, then came back and handed both items to her. One was a meal bar, which was fine but not as fancy as she’d expect for a man who was supposed to be responsible for most of an entire planet’s net worth. The other… “Oh,” she whispered after she tasted it. Chocolate. How long had it been since she’d tasted chocolate? She drank more deeply, then again, finally tipping the mug back so that the last few drops rolled into her mouth and across her tongue.

“Kieron’s a die-hard coffee fan, but he likes hot chocolate every now and then,” Desfontaines said from where he’d sat himself down again. “More?”

Carlisle evaluated the state of her stomach and shook her head. “Not yet.” She hadn’t had much to eat or drink over the past few days, and the last thing she wanted was to make herself sick in front of this man.

“All right.” He nodded, then stretched his lengthy legs out in front of himself and crossed his joined hands over his middle. It was a languorous pose, but the intensity in his eyes showed it for a lie. “Now that you’re all fixed up, I want to talk to you about what’s going to happen next.”

Carlisle’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Already thinking about where you’ll get the best bounty for me?”

“On the contrary. No one wants you,” he replied, and damn but if that didn’t hurt a little. “No one out there remembers Hadrian’s Colony,” he went on, perfectly matter-of-fact. “No one cares about your little power games and the price you paid for them. No one gives a shit about the General and how hard he tried to be a god. The only person left who gave a shit about finding out what happened back here in the first place is lying on the floor over there.”

“Why did you let him come?” It wasn’t the question she’d intended to ask, but slipped out despite herself. “If you love him so much, why let him do this to himself?”

Was that pity in his eyes? “You don’t understand how love works very well, do you?”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “You don’t—”

“Keep your fucking voice down.”

Carlisle’s mouth snapped shut. They both sat in silence for a moment as Kieron shifted on the cot, finally settling again after a few seconds.

“I want to make something very clear to you,” Desfontaines said once he was content that Kieron was asleep again. “Kieron Carr is a good person in a way you’re not capable of being. I don’t say that to offend you,” and it didn’t offend her at all, actually, “but because it’s the truth. He looked at you and saw someone worth saving, someone worth risking his life for. I enabled that because he needed me to, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not here to help facilitate a better relationship between the two of you. I prefer there to be no future relationship between the two of you, but I’m not naïve enough to think I can put him off now.

“So. My proposition to you is this. Once we’re done with this planet, I equip you with a ship and a stipend. You go do whatever it is you want to do—explore new places, look up your old flame, hire yourself out as a mercenary, I don’t care. Go learn how to live like a human again, but do it somewhere far away from Kieron, because you’ve hurt him enough.” His words cut like knives, shredding her but also freeing her from the weight of expectations she knew she couldn’t live up to.

“You’re not a mother, even though he’d like you to be,” he went on, looking her straight in the eyes. “And that’s fine, you shouldn’t take on a role that you’re not prepared for. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of you to try and fail right now. I’ve got him, all right? I’m not perfect, but I love Kieron. I’m going to marry him. I’m going to live the rest of my undoubtedly amazing life with him, and I’m going to make sure he has everything he needs to be healthy and happy, and that doesn’t include you right now. It can’t.” Then he smiled, just a little. “It’s okay. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt him.”

Carlisle slumped back against the wall, a matching smile coming to her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, then looked down at her empty mug. “Can I have another hot chocolate now?”

“Absolutely.”