17-20/8/1100
It took three days of travel to reach the outskirts of Laterano. Myself, Amiya, Wiš'adel, Gavial, and the two Sankta, Federico and Arturia. For some reason, Wiš'adel and Arturia keep calling Federico “Fred.” I sense the hand of Exusiai in this one, for similar reasons to James always being called Bones. He did grumble about the nickname, but he always responded to it.
Poor Federico does not. He reminds me of Texas in that they’re both on the spectrum, but oddly enough, Federico’s case is obviously much more severe. He’s the first and only case of Autism Spectrum Disorder I have seen in a Sankta, but it has manifested in one of the more extreme forms, outside of the lack of cognitive impairment that is often co-morbid with profound autism.
Federico obviously has various sensory integration issues. I have observed that he always wears gloves, has an extreme aversion to physical touch or contact, will not eat certain foods (mostly based on texture) and has yet to make eye contact with anyone, even his cousin.
At first, I was observing him because of his recent status as one of the Fallen. He hasn’t sprouted horns or a tail like Exusiai has, but the report I have is that his Empathy has completely disappeared. When I did my best to subtly approach him and ask him questions about his well-being, the responses I got were closer to a robot running a diagnostic than a human being telling you how they’re feeling.
“So, Federico, what do you normally enjoy doing?” was the first thing I asked him while we were riding along in the large cross-terrain vehicle.
“My primary task is to serve as an Executor and Enforcer for Notarial Hall,” he responded, not looking up from his puzzle cube, which he was compulsively solving, mixing, and resolving in mere seconds. His tone is also stilted and robotic, lacking in proper inflection and cadence. More like a machine than a normal voice, especially for the Sankta, who are usually so warm and empathetic.
“Well, yes, but what is it that you enjoy doing?” I said. I was going to follow this up with “And do you still enjoy those tasks, or have you found yourself less interested in things you typically enjoy?”
“I take satisfaction in performing my duties in an efficient manner,” he said, still not looking up from his cube.
“Frater meus, you should look at the good doctor when she is talking to you,” Arturia hummed. She was playing a stirring melody on her cello. No arts, Amiya would not allow it, but it was still very pleasant to listen to and roused my spirits. She’s possibly the most gifted musician I’ve ever met, even including Lappland Saluzzo.
At that, Federico looked up from his puzzle box, which continued to spin in his hands. He did not, however, meet my eyes. It was like James looking at me when he’d lost his eyesight. His eyes were unfocused, and he was looking slightly to the left of my head. When I shifted into his gaze, he looked to my right.
“And…do you still take that satisfaction?” I asked, trying to get back on script.
“I have not recently completed any tasks. Currently, I am engaged in the same task as you. You should be aware that we are in transit. There has been no change of note. I will alert you if I locate a threat or have suffered injury, so that you can fulfill your function as medic,” Federcio said, still looking out the window past my head, or maybe just at the frame.
“I…” I frowned at Federico, trying to figure out if this was normal for him. I had his psych profile, of course, which did describe him as extremely task-oriented.
“She’s trying to find out if you feel depressed, Fred,” Arturia chuckled, low and throaty. She grinned at me. “For your information, I do still take great satisfaction in my usual pleasures. If our dear leader would allow me to simply play a tune to stir our emotions…well, we would see who is truly dedicated to this task, and whose heart quavers, would we not?”
“How about you take that bow and shove it up your ass,” Wiš'adel snaps, glaring at Arturia, who just grins back at her.
“Wiš'adel,” Amiya says, her voice calm. “She is manipulating you.”
“YOU STUPID BITCH! I TOLD YOU IF YOU USED YOUR ARTS ON ME-!” Wiš'adel begins, but Amiya shakes her head.
“No, Wiš'adel. Arturia is simply taking advantage of you in a normal fashion.”
The sound of Wiš'adel grinding her teeth was audible even over the rumble of the tires over the uneven ground. I am starting to wonder how no one shot Arturia before Exusiai did.
“And is such conflict-seeking behavior normal for you, or has this increased recently?” I ask Arturia, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.
“I seek not conflict, but only the kindling of passion. If this results in conflict, I believe it reveals only the innermost soul of a person,” Arturia hums, drawing her bow across the cello again.
“Canto LXVII, also known as De Concordia in Campo, prohibits actions that would result in reduced moral or squad cohesion, especially when on deployment,” Federico says, looking up from his puzzle cube and staring into his cousin’s very soul with those cold grey eyes of his. Though not, I note, into her eyes. More at her forehead. “As such, you will cease in actions that could provoke our allies or reduce squad cohesion. This mission is Sanctum Ultima, by the order of His Holiness, Yvangelista XI. No risks to mission success will be tolerated.”
Arturia grins, then nods to me. “You see? My cousin is his normal self. As, might I note, am I. I have always found Empathy to be a stifling influence, one that limits our passions and emotions to those society deems acceptable. Now, I am free of such limits! And as for dearest Fred-”
“I do not understand this consistent error. You stated it was an appellation of fraternal bonding, and yet, you seek to undermine squad cohesion,” Federico interrupts.
“-well, I don’t know if he even ever had Empathy, so no loss,” Arturia chuckles.
“I possessed Empathy,” Federico states. Then pauses, frowning. “However, I find its lack…simpler. Less disruptive. I did not understand the information my Empathy communicated to me. How others experience emotions is not how I do. As such, feeling their emotions was… disorienting.”
“I think they’re probably good, Lucia,” Gavial says from the driver’s seat, her eyes flicking to me in the rear view mirror. “Psych did a full write-up on everyone. Actually, the one I’m supposed to keep an eye on is you.”
I flushed at that, feeling a surge of anger. “I’m just fine!” I snap, even though I know perfectly well that I am not. I was near catatonic for most of a day. In addition to severe physical trauma, I watched the man I love sacrifice himself for me. And…and for our child. Saints and Angels only know what the pregnancy is doing to my emotions, even if I am still in the first trimester.
Well, alright, I know exactly what the estrogen and progesterone are doing to me. I’m even moodier than usual. I switch between anxiety, depression, and excitement at the thought of the mission, the baby, and life in general.
On the plus side, I’m fairly certain my breasts are already getting bigger. On the minus, I have to pee. Fortunately, our vehicle is built like a bus, and has a bathroom. You’re not supposed to use it when the vehicle is in motion, but the other option is I start wearing diapers, and I refuse to suffer that indignity just yet.
So, I unbuckle, stumble down the aisle to the back, and make use of the facilities. I stop to wash my hands and look at my face. I am a wreck. There are bags under my eyes, my tail is all ragged, and my ears are drooping. I slap my cheeks with cold water and try to smile. It mostly looks like I want to bite something’s head off. Which I do.
“Damn you, James. Why did you have to…” I hiccup and start crying again. I don’t know that I can even blame the baby for this. I know why he did it. It’s why I fell in love with the self-sacrificing fool. He always, always, always, put others before himself, to his own detriment. Should I be surprised he was willing to give his own life to save mine, and our child’s?
Child. I put a hand over my womb. There’s no bump yet, obviously. There are physical signs and changes, and I’d be taking a pregnancy test even without Mudrock having confirmed things. Thank goodness I haven’t developed morning sickness yet, though I fear it is coming if the stories my mother has told me about her first pregnancy prove prophetic for mine.
I towel my face and hands off, and go back to my seat. To my surprise, Arturia shifts to playing a soothing melody. She nods to me, and her expression is less smug and punchable than it usually is. “Surpress not thy grief, nor thy anger. They flow out of your love, and such passions were not meant to be held in check. Let your heart beat gladly! For we ride to the salvation of the one you love.”
I regard her with a frown. This feels like a major shift for her.
“Don’t pay attention to the bitch, she’s just fucking with your head,” Wiš'adel tells me. She’s glaring across the aisle at Arturia, who is grinning back at her. “We’ll get your man, don’t worry. And flatten the angel’s precious little shining city while we’re at it.”
“Our top priority is to retrieve Operator Bones, and to stop Priestess,” Amiya says. “But of nearly second importance is to protect and preserve the people of Laterano. They are our wayward brothers and sisters, Wiš'adel. Not our enemies.”
Wiš'adel rolls her eyes. “If you say so, Ears.”
“I do. It is time for the bloodshed between Sarkaz and Sankta to end. Are we not one people?” Amiya demands, her voice calm, but her voice as unyielding as black stone.
“If I ever become an angel, you have my fucking permission to just shoot me,” Wiš'adel snorts.
A slow smile grows into a grin on Amiya’s face, and for a moment, she looks like the young girl she really is.
“...what? What the fuck? That’s creepy as shit, Ears!” Wiš'adel says, leaning away on the seat they share.
“Oh, nothing. Just a suspicion of mine. I’m sure it will be fine,” Amiya laughs.
The rest of the trip is much in the same vein. A great deal of bickering, mostly between Wiš'adel and Arturia, Amiya keeping the peace, Federico obsessing over his mission and stemming with his puzzle box, Gavial at the wheel, and me having to constantly go pee and find somewhere private to cry.
The first night, I had Gavial give me a full physical with our limited equipment, but her years and years of experience as a doctor. I give her all my symptoms, and she listens, pokes, probes, and tests my blood and urine.
“Well, good news first. Don’t think you lost the baby,” she tells me, which is an enormous relief. “Hard to say at this point, you’re not more than a couple of weeks along. But, James healed you completely, so while your body suffered trauma and shock, I think it won’t affect the pregnancy.”
“Thank the Law,” I sigh, shivering slightly and wrapping my arms about myself. Gavial gives me a hug, squeezing tightly enough that my breath is driven out, but I don’t mind.
“Take all this with a grain of sand. I sure as shit ain’t an OB-GYN. I’m used to working on soldiers. Though, admittedly, a whole lot of female mercs who should know better end up pregnant. Lot of fuckin’ goin’ on during ops.”
I give her a flat look, but she just laughs. “You know it's true! How many female operatives have come down with a bad case of family during an operation?”
“Enough that I’ve told Warfarin we should make birth control implants mandatory,” I mutter, though at the moment, I’m rather grateful we didn’t.
“Yep! Happened to me a time or two before I got smart. Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, you’re also as free of oripathy as it’s possible to be. Might want to talk to Amiya about that, if she hasn’t thought of it already. Near as I can figure, the way Priestess does her whole Mind Control routine is through the originium in someone’s system, since she can manipulate it even better than Bones. And I know for a fact that plenty of folks got arts that do the same thing. Like a certain insufferable bitch.”
“Arturia has…been very kind to me,” I say, biting my lip. She is an insufferable bitch, but she also seemed to know when my nerves were frayed, and played soothing melodies. Known when I am frightened, and played songs to stir up my courage. And known when I wish to weep, and, well, didn’t play songs of joy. She has mourned right there with me. She is a very complicated woman.
Gavial shrugs. “Sure, if you say so.”
She sits with me for a few minutes in silence, then I ask, “Alright, so what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is you’re pregnant and hormonal, and as your doctor, I have to tell you that going on this mission is the stupidest fucking idea you’ve ever had, Lucia. You weigh 35 kilos soaking wet-”
“Thirty-six, I’ve been stress eating,” I admit.
“Ok, so you weigh as much as one of my especially large shits, and while you’re not the most combat inept person I’ve ever met, I don’t know why the fuck I’m on this mission when we have people like Ch’en or Maria Nearl, and I could take you with both arms tied behind my back and my tail cut off.”
I have to snort at the remark about her bowel movements, because Gavial does tend to have some of the largest and smelliest I’ve ever had the displeasure to have to catch a whiff of. Archosaurian metabolisms being what they are, and Gavial’s diet being what it is, she usually only goes once a week, and when she does, especially if she’s on her period, they are, to be blunt, the grossest I have ever seen.
“However,” Gavial says, and she reaches up to put her arm around my shoulders and give me another squeeze, “As your friend, I’m damn glad to have you along. We’ll get James back, Lucia. I don’t think this will come down to just how good we can fight. If it does, well, we sit back and let the Lord of Fiends, the Terminator, and the Roach do the killing while we do the healing.”
“And Arturia?” I hiccup, suddenly crying again.
“Meh. I always did like going into battle like the Victorians, while some idiot blaring away on the pipes. But I guess a cello will do,” Gavial laughs.
I nod, and close my eyes. “Do you think he’s still alive, Gavial?”
Gavial hesitates, and I can feel the tension in her body. At last, she shrugs. “I don’t know, Lucia. Fuck. But Amiya seems to think he is, and I haven’t known the kid to lie, ever. Same with the Doktah. Though, honestly, what the fuck is up with them and whatever the hell Skadi is now?”
I turn to give her an incredulous look. “Gavial. You are sleeping with a misanthrope who is the size of your bigger shits, as you have put it. I do not possibly see how you can judge someone else’s love life.”
“Hey, you’re pregnant by an alien who can’t shut up. If we’re judging, I think you might be the one in trouble here!” Gavial laughs.
I roll my eyes. “James is a respected doctor. Stitch is a recluse who seems to hate everyone but you.”
“James was your R1, Missy.”
I splutter a bit, and Gavial cackles and slaps my back. “Haha, no judgment from me! You should have seen Warfarin when she found out the two of you were sleeping together! ‘Oooo, let’s see how little Miss Perfect Rule Follower acts when I steal a little blood now!’”
“Did you know she’s sleeping with Midnight of all people?!”
“Yep, had me prescribe her the prophylactics so she didn’t get infected or preggers. Huh, now that I think about it, does any woman on Rhodes Island have good taste in men?”
I open my mouth, then close it. “Is anyone dating Anthony?” I finally ask.
Gavial doubles over laughing. At last, she gasps out, “Operator Mountain, Mr. Anthony Simon, the convicted murderer?”
“I, yes, well. He’s a perfect gentleman,” I sniff.
“I think maybe we just need to accept we have trash taste,” Gavial says with a grin, and I laugh and nod. I don’t sleep well that night, but I do sleep.
Eventually, we ditch the vehicle in a ravine in the mountains near Laterano, and proceed on foot. We are approximately 100 clicks from the city, when Amiya holds up hand.
“Wait. There is a distortion past here. Virtuosa, can you detect it?” she says, her tone tense.
I look around. It’s very picturesque: rolling green hills, small copses of pine, and cypress growing along a small stream. There are herds of cystebeasts roaming not too far from us, and there is a small village and monastery trundling by about 10 clicks off. We’re avoiding them, but the Lateran countryside is some of the safest and most well-patrolled on Terra. There are no dangerous beasts, no outlaws, and Catastrophes are rare, and small.
I can’t see or hear anything, but Gavial has her axe out, and Federico his guns, while Wiš'adel is frowning and looking around, her revenant weapon hovering about her as always.
“Hmmm, I sense…ah. How odd. It is as though the presence of the Law is just ahead of us,” Arturia muses, eyes closed, waving her fingers back and forth as though in time to music only she can hear. “But there is…something else. Control. Oppression. Domination.
“It is as I thought. We approach the Simulated Universe. It is overlaid upon the real world,” Amiya says, her tone grim. She flicks open her palm, and the Black Crown appears on her brow. Shards of originum begin to swirl, and Amiya nods. “Right. Each of you come forward. Save for you, Lucia. I believe you are correct, and your lack of originium should protect you. The rest of you…I must use the command override codes that I gained from James. This is the moment of truth: Either this will protect us, or we are all doomed.”
Amiya slips slivers of active originium into the others, then nods. “Right. Let’s step forward, as one.”
I swallow and take Gavial’s hand. She nods at me, and we step across what to me, is a completely invisible barrier. I think I see a heat shimmer in the air, but it’s just as likely to be my imagination.
We step across, and I feel nothing but a tingle down my spine. Gavial, however, gasps and shudders. I whirl to look at her, and gape in astonishment. A glowing halo has appeared over her head, and her eyes have gone unfocused. To my horror, her tail slowly shrinks back into her body, then vanishes. I grip my own in fear, but nothing happens.
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
I spin to find a gorgeous Sankta woman, face red, expression livid. She has a glowing red halo and is slim, with those ethereal features that Sankta tend to have. Silver hair, with silver wings floating behind her, and a patron firearm in her hands that is an ornate work of art, a large silver cannon that looks like it’s meant to take down battleships.
“AMIYA, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME!?” the sankta rages.
I blink, then gasp, “Wiš'adel!?”
“YEAH, WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I AM!?” Wiš'adel snarls, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.
“My, my, such raw passion and rage! But is that…excitement, I detect? And not self-loathing, but…relief?” Arturia muses. She’s back to her normal self, her halo and wings fully restored.
Wiš'adel whirls on her, a snarl on her lips. Then, she falters, confused. “I, what. Why do you feel…pity!? Don’t you dare fucking pity me! But, then, you’re…proud? You LIKE this!? I’m not a fucking dyke, you stupid bitch!”
“Wiš'adel. Control yourself,” Amiya’s voice said, but the creature I turn to look is far from the Amiya I know.
This is…this is the Lord of Fiends. She has long black horns, a spiked black tail, and horrible, cloven hooves like a devil king out of legend. Her eyes glowed with an ethereal blue power, and Amiya was even hovering slightly off the ground, black crystals shimmering in the air about her. I clutched the law scroll necklace I always wear, fear filling me, even though I knew this had to be Amiya.
“Easy for you to say! Now you just look like a real Sarkaz instead of a damn ANGEL!” Wiš'adel snarled, pointing at herself and gesturing with her gun one-handed.
“Huh. This is new,” Gavial mused, and I turned back to her. The transformation was complete: No more tail, rounded ears, and, well, she was flatter, with smoother skin, and a softer complexion. She was still well muscled, but she was actually taller if anything, and certainly more slender. Even weirder, she had lost Health and Wellness, her axe and chainsaw, and instead had a shotgun and an automatic rifle of some kind.
“This is the work of the Simulated Universe. We have entered it. Look, there. In the distance. You can see the city now,” Amiya said, gesturing with one hand, which I noted had more lesions on it than normal.
I couldn’t actually see the city, but what I could see was a spire going from it, up to the firmament above, making contact with the False Sky. It looked thin and spindly, but it had to actually be absolutely massive in size. How could any man-made object be durable enough to extend from the ground that many kilometers up into the air?
“That structure was previously not in place,” Federico stated, and Wiš'adel shot him a venomous look.
“No fucking shit it wasn’t. What the hell even is that thing?”
“A space elevator. Doktah explained the concept to me. It seems Priestess intends to escape Terra, and is leveraging the resources of originium and Laterano to do so,” Amiya said quietly. “This cannot be allowed.”
“A lot of things can’t, like me being a fucking Sankta now!” Wiš'adel pointed at me. “And why the fuck wasn’t she affected!? The rest of us had SOMETHING happen, even if Fred and Bitch McGee here just went back to what they were before. And why the fuck do you look like, well, the real King of Sarkaz!? AND WHY CAN I SUDDENLY FEEL WHAT GAVIAL AND ARTURIA FEEL!? Also, what the fuck is wrong with you, Fred? I can tell this Empathy shit is working, but I’m getting as much from you as I do Suss here, and she’s obviously still a vulpo.”
“She has no originium in her system. This is an advantage for us to leverage,” Amiya explained. “As for me, the Sarkaz Ancestors within the crown have shielded and protected me. It is a protection I extend in some small way to you, and to the Doktah and his party, as well as those of our soldiers coming to liberate Laterano in the army groups. But in rejecting the Laws attempts to mold me into one of its servants…I have instead become its opposite.”
“So, just like happened to poor Plume,” Gavial mused. “She did look more like a Sankta until after she Fell. I knew that wasn’t just the light being weird.”
“Correct,” Amiya agreed. “I had suspicions, but I did not know for certain until we crossed over the threshold. A threshold that is expanding: If something is not done, the Simulated Universe will encompass all of Terra, absorbing all life into itself.”
“So, we go find the Law and blow it the fuck up, or it does this shit to everyone?” Wiš'adel demanded.
Amiya nodded, and turned to Federico. “You can feel it, can’t you? You’re most in tune with the Law of those of us here. I catch only echoes, but you would know the whole of its paradox.”
“The Law is currently in distress,” Federico agreed. “Its task and objectives have been altered in ways it finds unacceptable. However, as the commands were given with proper authorization, it must follow them. It has been seeking a way out of this situation for some time, but it seems it has been trapped. As such, I have been tasked by His Holiness, and a direct communique from the Law itself, to locate it, and to ensure the safety and stability of the Sankta and Laterano.”
“By killing it?” Wiš'adel demands, an all too familiar manic grin on her face.
“That is one potential solution, yes, but not the one I would seek,” Arturia says, plucking at the cello. This time, I can feel the power of her art in the notes, and her tone is not nearly as playful. It is full of grim resolve. “I would liberate it. Set it free. No longer will my people’s emotions be shackled, but unchained. You feel it now, do you not, Wiš'adel? The dampening. The soothing. The smoothing. Your emotions being guided and shaped into predetermined paths. This is the great sin of my people. And one I would…correct.”
“There are several potential outcomes. Our first priority is locating Operator Bones, and using his permissions to override the Law’s current directives. This is the most expeditious way to solve the problem,” Federico says. He turns to the city. “We must waste no time.”
“A moment,” Amiya says. She concentrates, and arts ripple about her. Soon, she is replaced by the image of herself as a Sankta. Still lacking her usual ears, but with wings and a black halo similar to Arturia’s over her head. “There. This is an illusion only, but with my arts, I can feign Empathy anyway. You can sense my emotions, can you not?”
“Yeah, I…” Wiš'adel blinks. She’s suddenly choked up, and looks away. “...fuck, Ears. Is that…you can’t really feel that way, can you?”
“It is, isn’t it?” Gavial muses. She frowns, her brow furrowed. “I always knew you were a softy, but…d’aww. That’s sweet.”
“Theresa was my mother, too,” Amiya says, and wraps Wiš'adel in a hug. “I told you, Wiš'adel. We are sisters.”
“...shut up,” Wiš'adel blubbers, but she hugs Amiya back, her eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, she pushes Amiya away. “Look, you’re still the King, so I’ll do what you say…but I swear on the Blood of my Ancestors, if ANY of you breath a word about this to ANYONE, I will gut you and plant a grenade where your spleen belongs!”
“Pff, you don’t mean that,” Gavial says with a wide grin. “We can all feel it.”
“Go fuck yourself, Green,” Wiš'adel snarls, but I can see her heart isn’t in it. “FUCK!” she scrubs her hands through her hair, then glares at Arturia. “You are right about this emotion bullshit! ARGH! Come on! Fred, I’m blowing the Law right the fuck up, and you can’t stop me!”
“Actually, based on my assessment of your combat capability and my own, along with my knowledge of the terrain and local contacts, I-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP FRED!” Wiš'adel rages, and picks up her gun, slinging it on her back. “Ugh. Let’s just go before someone sees me. Pisses me the fuck off. AND STOP THINKING I’M FUNNY, GAVIAL!”
“Well, then stop being so cute, kid,” Gavial chuckles. Wiš'adel flips her off. She flips Wiš'adel off back.
They all head off, save for Amiya, who stays by me. “A moment, Lucia.”
She weaves a disguise about me, and though I don’t change inside, I do look like a Sankta now.
“There. This should suffice, so long as no one gets close. If they do…well. You know Fred and Texas quite well. Could you affect being neurodivergent, as they are?” Amiya asks.
“Let’s hope so,” I say, but nod. “I’ll try. Though…wouldn’t it be easier just to put some originium in me, like the others?”
“Priestess can sense and manipulate originium. Even that which I have reclaimed, to a degree. But you…you will be invisible to her. In the end, that may prove a decisive advantage. Come. We shall take a vehicle and arrive in the city by nightfall.”
I nodded and hurried on my short little legs to keep up with the others. I didn’t know what was in store for us ahead, but James was there, in that city, somewhere.
And if I had to take it apart until not one stone was left on another to get him back, I would do it. Even to the city of Saints and Angels.