The World Where Yesternight You Died' Part 21
*waves*
Hullo! So much stuff going on, homg.
Two chapters of 'Yesternight' for you, that went up at AO3 yesterday. It was too late to post here, i had to go on to bed so i could be at my work on time. A little more news in the next post!
So - here we go!
Also at AO3.
Give me back my young brother, hard
and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse
for God and burning eyes that look upon
all creation and say, You can have it.
You Can Have It - by Philip Levine
Jared came ghosting back from a visit to the head, doing his best to stay out of the way in the uncanny quiet of the Quo obs-con. It seemed as if every human on the Quo arcology was in a state of low-key panic. The Quo, on the other hand, only seemed confused by the panic and, in trying to impart some measure of calm, were making some people more nervous. Jensen, in particular, was not happy to have gentle, concerned Quo hovering over him and trying, the Quo way, to be soothing.
Soothing, to a Quo, was shuffling up close and tucking long, flexible noses into chests or necks, arms tucked around ribs and claws gently scritching down backs. Only Raleigh, for some unknown reason, seemed to like it. Everyone else stood stiffly, and Jensen just skittered from place to place in the obs-con, doing his best to stay out of the long-armed reach of any Quo.
It did make him look a little…
I look crazy. I know. Can't help it, Jensen thought, his physical aversion coming through the 'net like particularly annoying com-link static, all squeal and feedback. It made Jared twitch right along with Jensen, but he did his best not to twitch away from the Quo, who didn't really understand that being enveloped in half a ton or more of overheated, hairy, alien biped wasn't exactly comforting.
Not crazy. It's fine. Anything? Jared asked, skirting a knot of Diaboli and a lone Quo and finally coming to rest beside Jensen, who was standing stiffly by the viewport, keeping a wary eye on the crowd. A firefly or two drifted around him, but they didn't seem to be doing anything more than keeping an eye? out.
"Not yet," Jensen said, relief and come here in the 'net, and Jared happily crowded into him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Hakase is trying to see how many ships, exactly."
"How many are there?" Jared wondered, and got a flashing list through the 'net, a jumble of statistics and technical information and troop strengths that meant almost nothing to him. Just...overload; Jensen, in panic mode and trying not to be, reverting to Squad Leader out of sheer habit.
Slow down, Jared thought, and Jensen took a long, shaky breath.
"Sorry. There's...thirty five ArchANGEL ships total. Troops and crew is five hundred per ship, but that's medevac and drop-ship crews and all. Just Angels - four-hundred and thirty-two."
"Okay, so, that's...that's - over fifteen thousand Angels," Jared said, and he felt cold all over, suddenly. Cold, and his heart was pounding wildly. Fifteen thousand ArchANGEL troops, armed and armored and hyped on go-paks. Coming right at them. Holy...fuck
"No, no, fuck, Jared. No." Jensen was staring at him, a hard grip on Jared's neck, fingers running up into his hair, his thumb just rubbing at the point of Jared's jaw. "No, Jared. First, it's not all of them. It would- It would never be all of them. There's still Stick bases out there, there's- Fuck, it's not all, okay?"
Jared gulped, nodded, and then leaned in, pressing his forehead to Jensen's. "Okay, so, not all. Okay."
"And...the Nebuchadnezzar and the Tiamat are...here. So take them out of the equation."
"Yeah, okay," Jared said, brief cascade of images through the 'net, of Kane and Jinx and Malik, of Sinna and Sous and Morgan; of still, pale bodies in a chilly twilight.
Forever, Jensen thought, and then stopped that thought cold.
Jared dipped down and kissed him. No, not, stoppit, he thought, wrapping himself around Jensen and kissing him for all he was worth; making the damn 'net - and Jensen's brain - just go to a warm, buzzing null for a moment. Respite, for both of them, because Jared was Diaboli - had been for years - but behind the scenes. He could pry his way into data spots and comp systems, he could forge ident and money cards, he could sabotage a damn skip-array, if he had to. But that had all been in secret, in hidden warrens the Diaboli had carved out. Or he'd been the pretty on the make, luring in this or that mark, getting them to talking and then to thinking, before someone else would take over. He'd never been on the bleeding edge of any part of the work; never seen death and desperation like he had when they'd jumped with the Nebuchadnezzar trying to kill them.
He’d never been that close to his own death.
And now, with Jensen in his head...Jensen's memories, his knowledge, his fears, his wants…. It was so damn much, and most of it was nothing he'd ever trained for, and he felt useless damn useless, so fucking scared, so stupid
No, came right back at him, Jensen's fingers clenching tighter for a moment. No, not, Jared- The 'net opened wide, with a flood of emotions and thoughts and images, most of them making Jared out to be...so much better than he was. So much more. True, all of it, true, it is, hear me, Jared, this is you, Jensen insisted, and his mouth under Jared's went fierce and hungry, insisting with every part of him that Jared believe.
I don't know what I'm doing, Jared thought, helpless; angry at himself for twisting it all around and making Jensen feel like he had to deal with Jared, on top of everything else. And deal with him in a way that was totally outside his comfort zone. He was a damn soldier, not a therapist.
"I can be fucking...comforting," Jensen growled, breaking off from their kiss to glare at Jared, and Jared blinked at him for a moment and then let out a half-choked laugh. "I'm damn comforting, Jensen said, and he looked so outraged and furious that Jared laughed for real, this time, and yanked him back in, going for a kiss that would make Jensen's knees go weak. Or his own, whichever, because that, yeah, right there, that was-
Yes yes yesyes, a flood of acceptance, want, positive, just Yes, in every way possible, and everything else just slid away for a long moment. Nothing but them, their heartbeats, their bodies, their minds, until there was a shuffling sound behind them, and then they were both enveloped in the heavy, too-warm arms of a Quo, shaggy hair tickling their skin and the distinctive, bitter-musk smell in both their noses.
Get it off, off, off, fuck!
"Hey, okay, it's okay," Jared said, a little muffled. He did the shoulder-roll-hitch thing that some of the Diaboli had figured out signaled 'enough', and the Quo's arms (arms like both Jared's thighs combined, heavy with corded muscle) briefly tightened and then let go, the Quo shuffling backward.
Maybe if we quit climbin' on each other, they'd quit thinking it was okay, Jensen thought, and for a moment he felt fragile and shaky in the 'net. Utterly vulnerable.
"Nah, fuck that," Jared said. He let go and turned, keeping his arm around Jensen's waist, to see what Quo it was, and what they wanted. This Quo was fairly dark, with a pale dappling on the velveteen fur of its face and throat. Their coat, however, was brilliant with looping spirals of bright green and yellow-green and blue, with flashing white and silvery beads and threads. Some of the same beads and threads had been woven into the longer fur of the Quo's shoulders and upper arms, so it seemed they almost wore a chitinous armor.
After a moment, Jared relaxed. He recognized this Quo; she, because she'd made a point to say so, and one of the Diaboli - her name was Alinx - said she was doing the equivalent of mate-hunting. She wanted to bear, and so had shifted into fertile 'she' mode, which meant she was rather brash and flashy, showing off herself and her skills, so as to attract a good partner.
It meant she made a little more noise than Quo usually did, and her back-curved claws were sheathed in a filigree of dull-pewter metal that, Alinx assured Jared, rippled with an oil-slick sheen to Quo eyes. Her fireflies were in hues of red-gold, pinks, and silvery-whites, and seemed a little more excitable, to Jared.
She's also chosen a human-word for her name, something the younger Quo had enjoyed. They seemed to simply go on how the word sounded, never mind the meaning. This Quo was called Shoumei. Alinx - Jared's source for all things Quo - said it was a kind of tea.
"Shoumei," Jared said, nodding up at the Quo, who was peering at Jensen as if she could sense his unease. She shuffled back another step, a meter or so, and Jared felt Jensen relax a little next to him. "Is there news?"
"Su, su, su," Shoumei said. "Whhee ghut tha."
"You...what?" Jared said, trying to pull English out of the sibilants and 'sonic trills that seemed to sneak in no matter what.
"Ahnn-gulss. Whee - vvring hhere. Ziss!" Her hand came up, fingers half-open, the gleaming claws spread out, and made a kind of cupping, curling motion, pulling her hand into her chest.
"You're going to-? You're bringing the Angel ships here?"
Su, su, su, Shoumei said, bobbing a little in that way that meant she was pleased. "Sships in-" She made a sound that meant on the bubble, in faster-than space. "Whee taak herrre."
"What?" Jensen straightened away from Jared with a jerk, the 'net blaring out a chaotic tangle of emotion and images, and just as quickly shutting down to almost nothing, an excited buzz that made Jared's heart pound a little faster. "You're going to-? They're in skip space, how can you-? What-?"
"Hold on," Jared said, echoing in the 'net, because Shoumei was curling her long nose under, her fireflies zipping in furious arcs around her head. She was getting agitated from Jensen's obvious agitation, and Jared really didn't want that to happen.
"Slow down, hold on, just...Shoumei. The Angels ships, they're in skip space. The Quo- You can...bring them here, out of that space? How can you do that?"
Shoumei tipped her head from side to side, thinking. The fireflies settled and then a few darted away. More came back, settling on her fur like a corona, and she made a little growling, hissing, 'sonic noise in her throat.
"Su, su, su. Shhipsss herrre." She held up one massive hand about a meter above Jared's head. "Wheee herrre," she continued, holding up her other hand. "Wheee mhhak hhole, ssso, vvring - ziss! Pooohl."
"You're going to make a hole and pull them here out of faster-than," Jensen said, his voice absolutely flat, and Shoumei bobbed, the tip of her tongue making a little 'ppbbbt' noise against her lips.
"Su, su, su.. Ee-zhha. Uuo ssee." She bobbed at them a couple more times, and then a handful of new fireflies came over, glimmering bright blue-white and green, and she turned and moved off, burring to herself.
"Jensen, can they-? Is that...even...possible?"
"Fuck if I know. Can't fucking be," Jensen said. The 'net was alive again, information and images and technical stuff Jensen knew, but couldn't really explain to Jared, or even himself. "Fuck, I wish Jinx were here," he said, and Jared felt the helpless anger and longing from him, and the frustration at himself. Sorry.
Don't need to be. "Let's go find Raleigh or Alinx. Somebody's got to know what the hell's going on. Okay?"
Jensen reached up and curled his fingers in the hair behind Jared's ear, scrubbing with his fingertips for a moment, tugging at the long hair there when Jared turned his cheek into Jensen's wrist. Love you, c'mon, it's okay
"Yeah, okay," Jensen said. Love you too
"So, why not just wait until they get here? I mean, they're coming here already, right?" Jared asked, and Jensen sent him a little push of warmth in the 'net, because normally, it would be a really good question. Just...Jared didn't know enough about ships, and the skip, to really get it.
"They are," Alinx said. She was tapping her fingers furiously on a floating console, one adapted for humans, but which still had some Quo icons around the edges. "But if we let them come, they come in mostly where they want, yah? At the speed they want, at the vector they already determine. Put us on the back foot, yah?"
"Okay," Jared said, in that tone of voice that meant he was waiting for the explanation.
"Quo do it this way, they put them where we want. Full stop, yah?"
"They can do that?" Jared said, practically at the same time that Jensen said;
"How are they going to do that without killing them?" Because a ship in faster-than, going from light+ velocity to nothing...the crew would be paste, full stop.
Alinx shrugged, tapped something else, and waved her fingers at a firefly that had come drifting over. They seemed attracted to certain people, even if they weren't carrying a message; Jensen was deeply grateful he wasn’t one of those people. The firefly appeared to be hopping along the trail of little glittering sequins that decorated Alinx's headscarf.
"They say not. Quo say, when they open the vector, it's this huge power-drain, and then they tap the velocity of the skip to keep the vector open. I think it might even kill the skip-array, how they do it. Anyway, it's like they just...go from skip to stop without anything in between, and all the velocity is gone, yah?"
"But- how are they going to find them? I mean...they're in skip; how do they even locate them?" Jared asked, the 'net a welter of confused half-questions, muddled thoughts, sheer exasperation. Jensen nudged him a little, and Jared leaned back, still frowning.
"Quo is Quo, it's what they do, yah?" Alinx said, flipping her hand up for a moment in a gesture that was pure spacer, and probably completely lost on Jared.
Means it's a mystery.
"Yah," Jensen said, and turned away from Alinx toward the port, and the drifting, blazing stars. All of that sounded...completely impossible. It sounded like the kind of shit they used to tell tales about in quarters; about planets made of diamond and ships that could skip fifty gravity wells in an eye-blink. Ships that never came down from the Between, but ghosted along in faster-than, crying out in the ultra-space, calling for help, or singing a warning….
Stories they used to tell about the Quo, sometimes; ships that flew without an array, or that never flew at all, just folded space around them, moving without moving, shifting reality to shift themselves…. Fuck. Here he stood, on the deck of a Quo archology that, before he'd met Jared, he'd have dismissed as ridiculous fantasy.
But here we are, Jared thought, and Jensen could feel him, coming to stand behind Jensen, and a little to his left. On his six, pivot-man, shield.
Not a soldier, Jensen thought, apologizing, and Jared made a little sound, a sort of strangled laugh.
Might have to be, he thought. His hand came to rest on Jensen's back, between his shoulderblades, heavy and warm, and Jensen's shoulders eased back down, making him sigh a little as he relaxed.
Hope not.
A firefly darted up just then, chiming rapidly, and Jensen felt all his tension come back hard; a sudden, bone-deep clench in every muscle.
"Ns'ssu?" Jared said, and the firefly flashed purple-white, bright and fast.
"Iynght srahzss," it said, the untranslatable word that meant whatever the Quo were doing to yank who knew how many Angel troop ships out of the Between. "Iynght srahzss will commence in thirteen minutes. Please find a secure place to wait. Thirteen minutes on count now," the firefly said, and Jensen felt the sudden scatter of energy and emotion from Jared. Panic and excitement and wonder and something that was like anger, but not quite. It all pulsed through him like a hit of ultrasound, like a hard blast of heat.
Then he was doing his best to pull it back, tamp it down, and fuck, but Jensen was so damn…impressed with him. So fucking amazed.
"Chugn," he told the firefly, which was starting to repeat itself, and it darted away. "Jared," he said, and then stopped, instead yanking Jared close to hold onto him. He let the 'net go, wide open, drawing Jared in deep and letting him feel everything, hear everything, know everything: Jensen's own panic and anger and regret and need; his own desperate longing for his Angels and his bone-deep, rock solid trust in Jared. His love for him.
"God," Jared said, both in the 'net and out loud - a little shaky, a little uncertain. "God, you are-" Jared crushed Jensen close for a long moment, and the emotional storm in the 'net seemed to settle, knots unsnarling and rough spots becoming smooth, cacophony becoming cadence as they slowly, steadily aligned.
Another firefly pulsed at them, the chime faster and faster, and Jensen gave Jared a last, hard hug; sent a last pulse of warm safe good you me us to him. Then he straightened up, and followed the firefly to their designated safe space.
They counted down, and to Jensen it seemed that not much was happening. The humans in obs-con all looked jumpy, or, like Raleigh and a couple of the arcology Diaboli, excited. Jensen just felt sick. There didn't seem to be any readying of weapons, or mustering of troops. Jensen knew - but just hadn't really believed, until this moment - that the Quo didn't fight. Didn't attack, didn't threaten, didn't even really defend, unless you counted dedicated obscurity for millennia as 'defending'. The Quo probably did.
So they were facing who knew how many troop ships - ANGEL ships - with nothing but some of the more hard-core Diaboli, and table knives, and Jensen himself. All the Angel weapons really only worked with the armor, and the stuff the crew had had - some hand guns, some knives - had all gone into a lockdown room that only Quo could get into.
So, they were defenseless.
Jared's hand was laced with his, and Jensen squeezed it tightly, relenting as soon as he felt the wince in the 'net, and then grinned when Jared squeezed back, just as hard. The console in front of them counted down to the slanted oblong that was the Quo zero, and then everything seemed to...stop. Without actually stopping. Jensen didn't feel any different, exactly, but even the low background noise of the quiet Quo seemed to have stopped completely, and the light-
It's frozen. There's something-
Jared was feeling it, too, and Jensen watched as everything around them seem to flicker for a moment. A bare second - less - when everything seemed to be coming apart into its essential elements; every atom glowing or vibrating or spinning to its own rhythm; every solid thing suddenly smoke, every color too bright and then weirdly dim. Under it all, so low it was pressure, tension, push, was a throb, like a single heartbeat of the universe. Deafening, all-encompassing, crushing them.
Wrong wrong wrong, Jensen?
Okay, we're okay, we're- "It's fine," Jensen said, and then everything was, snapping back to normal as if nothing had happened at all. Except that now, on the console, was a slowly-blooming nebula of light and energy; the vector, opening into skip-space, into the Between.
Jensen had a purely instinctive reaction to shield his eyes, to look away, as if what he might see there was forbidden, or maybe even deadly. Jared, he could tell, had no such fear; he was craning forward, looking at the console and then looking out the vast port, as if he could see it. But the vector was opening at least a hundred-thousand k distant from them, if not more, and toward the nadir of the arcology.
We're not close enough, Jensen thought, knowing there was an undercurrent of relief there, and Jared slumped a little, but then leaned in toward the console instead.
"Fuck, look at that, it's huge," Jared breathed, and Jensen scanned the information the Quo had oh-so-considerately included with the image: size, distance, energy used, the dimensions of the 'hole', for lack of a better word, that they were making. It made his head spin and his stomach lurch, so he looked at the image instead.
Light was curling and twisting and bending back on itself, sending out hair-fine plumes of radiation or energy or decay. It seethed and knotted, twisting and expanding until it filled most of the console. The center was a burning pinprick, an open hole into a space so brilliantly lit it was hard to look at.
And the pinprick was growing. The size of a drop of water, then a fingertip, then larger; expanding more rapidly as it grew, until suddenly the entire screen flared, actinic brilliance, enough for Jared and Jensen both to flinch away, ducking, eyes squinting shut. Little gasps and cries came from all over the obs-con, and then it was fading, contracting, shifting down through the spectrum, flattening and fluttering and shredding away into the blackness until there was nothing there at all.
Almost nothing.
"There they are," Jensen breathed, as Quo lidar lit up the incoming ships with pulses of laser light. Stripped of their skip velocity and possibly without any power other than trim jets, the ships would be days coming in. Days that they would have, at least, to prepare; to plan. The console took on a life of its own for a moment, shifting different windows and menus and suddenly the lidar image was bigger, more solid, taking up the whole screen. Showing each ship individually.
"One, two, three- Fuck." Jared's finger was hovering over each ship, as if he was afraid he'd miscount, but Jensen had already seen, already calculated.
"Thirteen. There are thirteen of them. Fucking...shit, fucking hell, thirteen."
"Jensen!" somebody yelled, and Jensen twisted around, looking. It was Alinx, standing in a little knot of Quo. "Jensen, to your com three, you'd better get on that," she said, her deep-set, dark eyes glued to her own console, her hands flying. The fireflies were like a fog, all around them.
"Shit, what now, how do I-?"
"Here," Jared said, reaching past him, tapping something on the console, and suddenly a window opened, a com line. It was a false-color image, weird shades of blue-grey and grey-white, ghosty and full of interference, something that might be the outline of a person at a com station. Feedback made orange-white lines zig-zag over the image, and the only sound was a hissing, spitting mess of static.
Then it cleared with a hiss and a pop, the image clearer but still grainy, dark; the ship station seemed to be illuminated with emergency spots, leaving most of the view a muddle of shadow. The audio was coming in a little hollow, with an undercurrent of echo. The crewman's voice was ragged, exhausted sounding.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. To any ship or station in range. This is the United Stellar Federation ship Xevioso, Ensign James Urbin reporting." The man on the screen looked jump-sick, gaunt and pale, dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slur of drugs in his voice, and he was sitting awkwardly, one arm tucked tight against his ribs, as if he were hurting.
"Our convoy has lost all power and are adrift. Navigation and propulsion are out convoy-wide, life support is failing in seven ships, and we have medical emergencies on eleven ships. We-" The man speaking seemed to lose his way for a moment, one hand coming up, shaking, to rub across his mouth. His formality, his forced calm, cracked. "We need help. Please, we-"
Jensen couldn't stand it. "How do I talk to them, Jared? How-?"
"Here, just-" Jared reached across, touched something on the console, and a little glowing triangle lit up, casting a soft scatter of light onto Jensen's face. "Now talk." Jensen watched the Xevioso crewman react, the signal reaching him faster than Jensen was anticipating.
Fucking...hell
Good, you're good, you're fine, from Jared, and Jensen straightened, taking a quick breath.
"USF Xevioso, this is-" This was what? They weren't a ship, they weren't a planet, they were a myth. Would he believe the Quo had yanked them out of skip? Would Urbin - would any of them - believe they weren't hostile? Fuck, shit, and damnit. "This is Corporal Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL to the USF Tiamat-"
"Tiamat? Holy fuck!" Urbin seemed electrified, straightening with a grimace, eyes wide. "LT, we found them! Hey, we found them!" Urbin was yelling, looking somewhere to his left, and a moment later, other people - another man, a woman, someone in some kind of armor or maybe an evac suit - were crowding around the console, indistinct in the grain and shadow.
"Xevioso, what do you mean?" Jensen was aware of the same thing happening on his end; people were crowding around, jostling to look over his shoulders, though they were perfectly capable, he was sure, of seeing what was going on on their own consoles. Even a couple of Quo - Shoumei, for sure, and one other, a startling, almost-pure white - were looming in the background, humming. Jensen shuddered, and forced them out of his awareness, grateful for what was basically the white-noise of Jared's hyper brain helping to block them out.
"We've been- Fuck, we...we've been looking for you. We came- We were-" Urbin was stuttering, hands waving wildly, and the person in the back - helmetless evac suit, ripped open across one shoulder - leaned in and put their hands on the man's shoulders, squeezing with bulky, gloved fingers. Urbin leaned back with a shuddering sigh, and the woman leaned in, as gaunt as Urbin, pale hair in a messy knot at the nape of her neck, the glint of a metal stud in one broad nostril.
"Tiamat, this is Lieutenant Calypso Dee. We mutinied. Us, the Hissa Hila and the Apsû. The fucking Company…." She made a particular spacer hand-sign, and Jensen grinned.
FUBAR, that's...totally fucked. Beyond help,, Jensen thought, and Jared sent a little laugh through the 'net.
"We ran, and we kept picking up strays. Wuriupranili said you took out the Nebuchadnezzar, the Seker said you talked them over to your side. All we knew for sure was that both of you were gone, out of Company control, and that you were alive. We got a half-dozen of your old crew-mates here, mustered in after your crew mutinied." She seemed to flag for a moment, leaning heavily on the console of the station, wiping a long strand of greasy-looking hair back from her cheek.
"We've been chasing you for...three years...our supply lines were getting thin, getting cut...old caches and dumps were depleted, we were...damn desperate. Found the ghost of your skip-trail...maybe five months back, Tiamat, and we just… We were hoping like hell you had a plan, or a safe dock. We had to slave eight of us to do this last jump. We're running shakey, Tiamat, and our Angels…. We need help."
"You'll get it, Lt. Dee, fucking swear, everything you need. It's not- We're not a ship, we're a station here, a fucking arcology. We'll do whatever we can,"Jensen said. He looked up from the console, at the clustered knot of people and Quo. "Alinx, Taichou-san. Tell me what we're doing; we need to get them here now."
"We got it, we're on it, let me-" Alinx shouldered through the crowd, a handful of fireflies on her head like a crown. Her assistant - a tall, thin boy of unguessable age, loaded down with consoles and data spots and a couple fireflies, as well - was right behind her, fingers flying over several things at once.
"Xevioso, I'm senior com here on the arcology. We're going to tractor you in. Get all hands buckled in and settled, we're in count already. When we pull, you're gonna feel it, a g at least. You've got twenty minutes."
"That's gonna hurt some of us, ma'am, we've got some pretty fragile people right now," Dee said, hope warring with worry in her expression.
"Right, okay...Shoumei, we gotta ease up on that, yah? Gotta go lighter. We got you, Xevioso, talk to Jensen." Alinx was already turning away, concentrating on her console, Shoumei coming to stand beside her, and Jensen saw Dee catch sight of the towering Quo.
"Holy fuck, Tiamat, what in hell are you into?" she said, and Jensen shook his head, looking over at Jared, completely at a loss for a coherent - and brief - way to explain...anything.
"Lieutenant, you are not going to fucking believe this…"
The ships came in, caught in the ghostly bubble of the Quo tractor drive. It took thirty minutes - less - and Jensen stood by the port in the human arcology, watching as the graceful bulks of glassine, ceramic aluminum, and titanium-steel alloy were, one by one, nudged and hauled and pushed into position. Quo tugs and skimmers floated, like their fireflies, but much slower, easing the ships into dock beyond the entwined wreck of the Tiamat and Nebuchadnezzar.
On coms, Jensen listened as each ship reported docked, locked in, seals up and functioning even if, on more than one, those seals had to be manually forced. The Xevioso first, then the ships whose life support was failing; the Apsû, the Hissa Hilla, Ilya Muromets, Wu Zetian, Kanagatucko, Tangaroa, and the Svetovid. Sakayengwaraton and Aquehua both had medical issues on board that had gone beyond critical, and the Matangi and Seker were starting down that same path. Only the Wuriupranili seemed fairly stable, and that, they discovered after docking, wasn't because the crew was somehow better.
"They're all sedated, the Wuriupranili captain reported. "Every last Angel on board. It was voluntary," he added, catching the look Jensen was giving him through coms. "We ran out of down-packs five or six skips back, and the pharmacy's empty. One of the drop-ship crew had a little...still going. They cooked up a sedative. It was that or casualties, Tiamat", he said, and for the first time Jensen really saw how skip-pale and thin the man was; how his hands were shaking as he hunted through a data spot for numbers, files, a cobbled-together report for the Diablo and most especially, Doc and all her colleagues.
"You don't know...what they've done. The Company. They…"
"Save it for the briefing, Wuriupranili," Jensen said, forcing his voice to be calm. Professional. "You did what you had to do, I'm sure of it. Just...get your accesses open and let us in, we've got room for all of you; supplies, everything. You're safe."
"I'd like to think so,", the captain said, and then signed off, his voice ragged, eyes hollow from exhaustion and skip-drugs. None of the others were in much better shape; at least four others had followed Wuriupranili's example and put their Angels into what amounted to a light coma, strapped in and rigged up with IVs and nutrient pumps for the long skips. That had its own attendant problems, though. Not every self-made 'pharmacist' was as good at cooking up drugs as the Wuriupranili's seemed to be, and some of the Angels hadn't, after all, gone down willingly.
What shape those men and women would be in, once they were finally freed from that… Jensen shuddered, arms wrapped around his ribs, and reached out, clinging as discreetly as possible to the warm thrum of distracted affection from Jared. He was with the Diaboli and Quo, helping to organize quarters, mess and infirmary space for the incoming thousands. A full complement, Angels, ship crew, dropship crew, and the medevac, would number five hundred; over six thousand souls, on those thirteen ships, ideally.
But individual and group mutinies hadn't been without losses, and whatever meddling the Company had been up to had taken out troops, too. The long, long game of hide-and-seek they'd been playing, the multiple jumps, dodging of regular Marine troopships and other, still-loyal Angel ships...had all taken their toll. By Lieutenant Dee's estimation, they were docking with a little over four thousand, and close to half of those had to go straight to some kind of medical facility more advanced than the ships could offer.
It was, all in all, a huge, complicated, fucking mess, and Jensen wanted to stay in the isolated bubble of the port and the hall and the dim light; the soft whisper of the arcology trees. He didn't want to plunge into the chaos and the dying, the desperation, the need...that he couldn't fix. He was a fucking soldier - not even that! - and every person he'd talked to, on those thirteen ships out there, had spoken to him as if he were in charge. As if he knew what came next. As if he knew what to do.
He was fucking terrified.
Okay, you're okay, it's fine, Jensen, Jensen, Jared thought, little warm pets and nudges through the 'net, and Jensen took a long, deep breath. It's gonna take a while, Jared thought, amidst flashes of the chaos three levels down and in, toward the center of the human arcology. Hastily assembled beds, tables and chairs filled the mess; the Quo 3D printers and machine shops turning out what they needed as fast as possible. And while Diaboli assembled and set up, the Quo actually took apart: disassembling bulkheads and moving walls so that the spaces opened up wider and wider. Halls and rooms became sprawling bays, interrupted only by the vast Quo trees that arched up and up, meters high, to form the interlaced ceiling. Those were immovable, but every partition, every station and dispensary and console dock and recycling bin could be uncoupled and moved, providing endless configurations.
It was something they'd long planned, but gradually, over time. As they'd hoped to talk and coax and lure a ship here, a squadron there, into the Diaboli; as they endeavored to undermine the Company with the vaccine. But now...it was happening faster than anybody had thought possible, and there was just so damn much to do.
The Quo had the resources, Alinx had assured them, when she'd hastily outlined to Jared what they were doing, Jensen listening in via the 'net. That wasn't the problem. They just needed time to get it all made, set up and working smoothly. They were already setting into motion the means to capture another, smaller asteroid and hollow it; do to it whatever the Quo had done to the others in the arcology, to be used for 'ponics and tanks and vats for human food, because that was the one area they would be a little stressed in, for a while.
Quo had a very specialized, very not-human-friendly diet, and there was no possibility of crossover there. And nobody wanted to live on protein-goo and reconstituted algae for any longer than they had to.
I should come help, Jensen thought, but Jared pushed back firmly as he blew a loose strand of hair out of his face, rubbed his nose on his shoulder, and then sniffed. The new-monomer smell of the freshly printed Quo material made his nose itch.
No. You're Tiamat. They need to see you, talk to you. You're the one, Jensen; the Angels need you.
"Of course you'd say that," Jensen muttered, but he smiled at the earnestness in Jared's voice, and the shivery little throb of believe in the 'net.
Fortified, at least a little, Jensen brushed his hand back through the spiky hair he'd freshly clipped a day or two ago, and straightened his shirt-hem. He still had on at least three layers, but none of them were an oversized coat or two-meter long scarf, and his shirts at least fitted him, as did his trousers. He was presentable, if not outstanding.
He turned away from the port and strode down the hall, and into the small foyer where two lift-bubbles rode. He stepped into one and it sank, down and down, to the docking level. He had people to greet, and information to give and get, and if he did it right - if he kept his fucking head and didn't fall apart in some spectacular, messy way - he could at least be of some use.
At least that.
Chapter twenty-two.
Originally entered at http://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/197412.html - comment where you please!
Hullo! So much stuff going on, homg.
Two chapters of 'Yesternight' for you, that went up at AO3 yesterday. It was too late to post here, i had to go on to bed so i could be at my work on time. A little more news in the next post!
So - here we go!
Also at AO3.
Give me back my young brother, hard
and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse
for God and burning eyes that look upon
all creation and say, You can have it.
You Can Have It - by Philip Levine
Jared came ghosting back from a visit to the head, doing his best to stay out of the way in the uncanny quiet of the Quo obs-con. It seemed as if every human on the Quo arcology was in a state of low-key panic. The Quo, on the other hand, only seemed confused by the panic and, in trying to impart some measure of calm, were making some people more nervous. Jensen, in particular, was not happy to have gentle, concerned Quo hovering over him and trying, the Quo way, to be soothing.
Soothing, to a Quo, was shuffling up close and tucking long, flexible noses into chests or necks, arms tucked around ribs and claws gently scritching down backs. Only Raleigh, for some unknown reason, seemed to like it. Everyone else stood stiffly, and Jensen just skittered from place to place in the obs-con, doing his best to stay out of the long-armed reach of any Quo.
It did make him look a little…
I look crazy. I know. Can't help it, Jensen thought, his physical aversion coming through the 'net like particularly annoying com-link static, all squeal and feedback. It made Jared twitch right along with Jensen, but he did his best not to twitch away from the Quo, who didn't really understand that being enveloped in half a ton or more of overheated, hairy, alien biped wasn't exactly comforting.
Not crazy. It's fine. Anything? Jared asked, skirting a knot of Diaboli and a lone Quo and finally coming to rest beside Jensen, who was standing stiffly by the viewport, keeping a wary eye on the crowd. A firefly or two drifted around him, but they didn't seem to be doing anything more than keeping an eye? out.
"Not yet," Jensen said, relief and come here in the 'net, and Jared happily crowded into him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Hakase is trying to see how many ships, exactly."
"How many are there?" Jared wondered, and got a flashing list through the 'net, a jumble of statistics and technical information and troop strengths that meant almost nothing to him. Just...overload; Jensen, in panic mode and trying not to be, reverting to Squad Leader out of sheer habit.
Slow down, Jared thought, and Jensen took a long, shaky breath.
"Sorry. There's...thirty five ArchANGEL ships total. Troops and crew is five hundred per ship, but that's medevac and drop-ship crews and all. Just Angels - four-hundred and thirty-two."
"Okay, so, that's...that's - over fifteen thousand Angels," Jared said, and he felt cold all over, suddenly. Cold, and his heart was pounding wildly. Fifteen thousand ArchANGEL troops, armed and armored and hyped on go-paks. Coming right at them. Holy...fuck
"No, no, fuck, Jared. No." Jensen was staring at him, a hard grip on Jared's neck, fingers running up into his hair, his thumb just rubbing at the point of Jared's jaw. "No, Jared. First, it's not all of them. It would- It would never be all of them. There's still Stick bases out there, there's- Fuck, it's not all, okay?"
Jared gulped, nodded, and then leaned in, pressing his forehead to Jensen's. "Okay, so, not all. Okay."
"And...the Nebuchadnezzar and the Tiamat are...here. So take them out of the equation."
"Yeah, okay," Jared said, brief cascade of images through the 'net, of Kane and Jinx and Malik, of Sinna and Sous and Morgan; of still, pale bodies in a chilly twilight.
Forever, Jensen thought, and then stopped that thought cold.
Jared dipped down and kissed him. No, not, stoppit, he thought, wrapping himself around Jensen and kissing him for all he was worth; making the damn 'net - and Jensen's brain - just go to a warm, buzzing null for a moment. Respite, for both of them, because Jared was Diaboli - had been for years - but behind the scenes. He could pry his way into data spots and comp systems, he could forge ident and money cards, he could sabotage a damn skip-array, if he had to. But that had all been in secret, in hidden warrens the Diaboli had carved out. Or he'd been the pretty on the make, luring in this or that mark, getting them to talking and then to thinking, before someone else would take over. He'd never been on the bleeding edge of any part of the work; never seen death and desperation like he had when they'd jumped with the Nebuchadnezzar trying to kill them.
He’d never been that close to his own death.
And now, with Jensen in his head...Jensen's memories, his knowledge, his fears, his wants…. It was so damn much, and most of it was nothing he'd ever trained for, and he felt useless damn useless, so fucking scared, so stupid
No, came right back at him, Jensen's fingers clenching tighter for a moment. No, not, Jared- The 'net opened wide, with a flood of emotions and thoughts and images, most of them making Jared out to be...so much better than he was. So much more. True, all of it, true, it is, hear me, Jared, this is you, Jensen insisted, and his mouth under Jared's went fierce and hungry, insisting with every part of him that Jared believe.
I don't know what I'm doing, Jared thought, helpless; angry at himself for twisting it all around and making Jensen feel like he had to deal with Jared, on top of everything else. And deal with him in a way that was totally outside his comfort zone. He was a damn soldier, not a therapist.
"I can be fucking...comforting," Jensen growled, breaking off from their kiss to glare at Jared, and Jared blinked at him for a moment and then let out a half-choked laugh. "I'm damn comforting, Jensen said, and he looked so outraged and furious that Jared laughed for real, this time, and yanked him back in, going for a kiss that would make Jensen's knees go weak. Or his own, whichever, because that, yeah, right there, that was-
Yes yes yesyes, a flood of acceptance, want, positive, just Yes, in every way possible, and everything else just slid away for a long moment. Nothing but them, their heartbeats, their bodies, their minds, until there was a shuffling sound behind them, and then they were both enveloped in the heavy, too-warm arms of a Quo, shaggy hair tickling their skin and the distinctive, bitter-musk smell in both their noses.
Get it off, off, off, fuck!
"Hey, okay, it's okay," Jared said, a little muffled. He did the shoulder-roll-hitch thing that some of the Diaboli had figured out signaled 'enough', and the Quo's arms (arms like both Jared's thighs combined, heavy with corded muscle) briefly tightened and then let go, the Quo shuffling backward.
Maybe if we quit climbin' on each other, they'd quit thinking it was okay, Jensen thought, and for a moment he felt fragile and shaky in the 'net. Utterly vulnerable.
"Nah, fuck that," Jared said. He let go and turned, keeping his arm around Jensen's waist, to see what Quo it was, and what they wanted. This Quo was fairly dark, with a pale dappling on the velveteen fur of its face and throat. Their coat, however, was brilliant with looping spirals of bright green and yellow-green and blue, with flashing white and silvery beads and threads. Some of the same beads and threads had been woven into the longer fur of the Quo's shoulders and upper arms, so it seemed they almost wore a chitinous armor.
After a moment, Jared relaxed. He recognized this Quo; she, because she'd made a point to say so, and one of the Diaboli - her name was Alinx - said she was doing the equivalent of mate-hunting. She wanted to bear, and so had shifted into fertile 'she' mode, which meant she was rather brash and flashy, showing off herself and her skills, so as to attract a good partner.
It meant she made a little more noise than Quo usually did, and her back-curved claws were sheathed in a filigree of dull-pewter metal that, Alinx assured Jared, rippled with an oil-slick sheen to Quo eyes. Her fireflies were in hues of red-gold, pinks, and silvery-whites, and seemed a little more excitable, to Jared.
She's also chosen a human-word for her name, something the younger Quo had enjoyed. They seemed to simply go on how the word sounded, never mind the meaning. This Quo was called Shoumei. Alinx - Jared's source for all things Quo - said it was a kind of tea.
"Shoumei," Jared said, nodding up at the Quo, who was peering at Jensen as if she could sense his unease. She shuffled back another step, a meter or so, and Jared felt Jensen relax a little next to him. "Is there news?"
"Su, su, su," Shoumei said. "Whhee ghut tha."
"You...what?" Jared said, trying to pull English out of the sibilants and 'sonic trills that seemed to sneak in no matter what.
"Ahnn-gulss. Whee - vvring hhere. Ziss!" Her hand came up, fingers half-open, the gleaming claws spread out, and made a kind of cupping, curling motion, pulling her hand into her chest.
"You're going to-? You're bringing the Angel ships here?"
Su, su, su, Shoumei said, bobbing a little in that way that meant she was pleased. "Sships in-" She made a sound that meant on the bubble, in faster-than space. "Whee taak herrre."
"What?" Jensen straightened away from Jared with a jerk, the 'net blaring out a chaotic tangle of emotion and images, and just as quickly shutting down to almost nothing, an excited buzz that made Jared's heart pound a little faster. "You're going to-? They're in skip space, how can you-? What-?"
"Hold on," Jared said, echoing in the 'net, because Shoumei was curling her long nose under, her fireflies zipping in furious arcs around her head. She was getting agitated from Jensen's obvious agitation, and Jared really didn't want that to happen.
"Slow down, hold on, just...Shoumei. The Angels ships, they're in skip space. The Quo- You can...bring them here, out of that space? How can you do that?"
Shoumei tipped her head from side to side, thinking. The fireflies settled and then a few darted away. More came back, settling on her fur like a corona, and she made a little growling, hissing, 'sonic noise in her throat.
"Su, su, su. Shhipsss herrre." She held up one massive hand about a meter above Jared's head. "Wheee herrre," she continued, holding up her other hand. "Wheee mhhak hhole, ssso, vvring - ziss! Pooohl."
"You're going to make a hole and pull them here out of faster-than," Jensen said, his voice absolutely flat, and Shoumei bobbed, the tip of her tongue making a little 'ppbbbt' noise against her lips.
"Su, su, su.. Ee-zhha. Uuo ssee." She bobbed at them a couple more times, and then a handful of new fireflies came over, glimmering bright blue-white and green, and she turned and moved off, burring to herself.
"Jensen, can they-? Is that...even...possible?"
"Fuck if I know. Can't fucking be," Jensen said. The 'net was alive again, information and images and technical stuff Jensen knew, but couldn't really explain to Jared, or even himself. "Fuck, I wish Jinx were here," he said, and Jared felt the helpless anger and longing from him, and the frustration at himself. Sorry.
Don't need to be. "Let's go find Raleigh or Alinx. Somebody's got to know what the hell's going on. Okay?"
Jensen reached up and curled his fingers in the hair behind Jared's ear, scrubbing with his fingertips for a moment, tugging at the long hair there when Jared turned his cheek into Jensen's wrist. Love you, c'mon, it's okay
"Yeah, okay," Jensen said. Love you too
"So, why not just wait until they get here? I mean, they're coming here already, right?" Jared asked, and Jensen sent him a little push of warmth in the 'net, because normally, it would be a really good question. Just...Jared didn't know enough about ships, and the skip, to really get it.
"They are," Alinx said. She was tapping her fingers furiously on a floating console, one adapted for humans, but which still had some Quo icons around the edges. "But if we let them come, they come in mostly where they want, yah? At the speed they want, at the vector they already determine. Put us on the back foot, yah?"
"Okay," Jared said, in that tone of voice that meant he was waiting for the explanation.
"Quo do it this way, they put them where we want. Full stop, yah?"
"They can do that?" Jared said, practically at the same time that Jensen said;
"How are they going to do that without killing them?" Because a ship in faster-than, going from light+ velocity to nothing...the crew would be paste, full stop.
Alinx shrugged, tapped something else, and waved her fingers at a firefly that had come drifting over. They seemed attracted to certain people, even if they weren't carrying a message; Jensen was deeply grateful he wasn’t one of those people. The firefly appeared to be hopping along the trail of little glittering sequins that decorated Alinx's headscarf.
"They say not. Quo say, when they open the vector, it's this huge power-drain, and then they tap the velocity of the skip to keep the vector open. I think it might even kill the skip-array, how they do it. Anyway, it's like they just...go from skip to stop without anything in between, and all the velocity is gone, yah?"
"But- how are they going to find them? I mean...they're in skip; how do they even locate them?" Jared asked, the 'net a welter of confused half-questions, muddled thoughts, sheer exasperation. Jensen nudged him a little, and Jared leaned back, still frowning.
"Quo is Quo, it's what they do, yah?" Alinx said, flipping her hand up for a moment in a gesture that was pure spacer, and probably completely lost on Jared.
Means it's a mystery.
"Yah," Jensen said, and turned away from Alinx toward the port, and the drifting, blazing stars. All of that sounded...completely impossible. It sounded like the kind of shit they used to tell tales about in quarters; about planets made of diamond and ships that could skip fifty gravity wells in an eye-blink. Ships that never came down from the Between, but ghosted along in faster-than, crying out in the ultra-space, calling for help, or singing a warning….
Stories they used to tell about the Quo, sometimes; ships that flew without an array, or that never flew at all, just folded space around them, moving without moving, shifting reality to shift themselves…. Fuck. Here he stood, on the deck of a Quo archology that, before he'd met Jared, he'd have dismissed as ridiculous fantasy.
But here we are, Jared thought, and Jensen could feel him, coming to stand behind Jensen, and a little to his left. On his six, pivot-man, shield.
Not a soldier, Jensen thought, apologizing, and Jared made a little sound, a sort of strangled laugh.
Might have to be, he thought. His hand came to rest on Jensen's back, between his shoulderblades, heavy and warm, and Jensen's shoulders eased back down, making him sigh a little as he relaxed.
Hope not.
A firefly darted up just then, chiming rapidly, and Jensen felt all his tension come back hard; a sudden, bone-deep clench in every muscle.
"Ns'ssu?" Jared said, and the firefly flashed purple-white, bright and fast.
"Iynght srahzss," it said, the untranslatable word that meant whatever the Quo were doing to yank who knew how many Angel troop ships out of the Between. "Iynght srahzss will commence in thirteen minutes. Please find a secure place to wait. Thirteen minutes on count now," the firefly said, and Jensen felt the sudden scatter of energy and emotion from Jared. Panic and excitement and wonder and something that was like anger, but not quite. It all pulsed through him like a hit of ultrasound, like a hard blast of heat.
Then he was doing his best to pull it back, tamp it down, and fuck, but Jensen was so damn…impressed with him. So fucking amazed.
"Chugn," he told the firefly, which was starting to repeat itself, and it darted away. "Jared," he said, and then stopped, instead yanking Jared close to hold onto him. He let the 'net go, wide open, drawing Jared in deep and letting him feel everything, hear everything, know everything: Jensen's own panic and anger and regret and need; his own desperate longing for his Angels and his bone-deep, rock solid trust in Jared. His love for him.
"God," Jared said, both in the 'net and out loud - a little shaky, a little uncertain. "God, you are-" Jared crushed Jensen close for a long moment, and the emotional storm in the 'net seemed to settle, knots unsnarling and rough spots becoming smooth, cacophony becoming cadence as they slowly, steadily aligned.
Another firefly pulsed at them, the chime faster and faster, and Jensen gave Jared a last, hard hug; sent a last pulse of warm safe good you me us to him. Then he straightened up, and followed the firefly to their designated safe space.
They counted down, and to Jensen it seemed that not much was happening. The humans in obs-con all looked jumpy, or, like Raleigh and a couple of the arcology Diaboli, excited. Jensen just felt sick. There didn't seem to be any readying of weapons, or mustering of troops. Jensen knew - but just hadn't really believed, until this moment - that the Quo didn't fight. Didn't attack, didn't threaten, didn't even really defend, unless you counted dedicated obscurity for millennia as 'defending'. The Quo probably did.
So they were facing who knew how many troop ships - ANGEL ships - with nothing but some of the more hard-core Diaboli, and table knives, and Jensen himself. All the Angel weapons really only worked with the armor, and the stuff the crew had had - some hand guns, some knives - had all gone into a lockdown room that only Quo could get into.
So, they were defenseless.
Jared's hand was laced with his, and Jensen squeezed it tightly, relenting as soon as he felt the wince in the 'net, and then grinned when Jared squeezed back, just as hard. The console in front of them counted down to the slanted oblong that was the Quo zero, and then everything seemed to...stop. Without actually stopping. Jensen didn't feel any different, exactly, but even the low background noise of the quiet Quo seemed to have stopped completely, and the light-
It's frozen. There's something-
Jared was feeling it, too, and Jensen watched as everything around them seem to flicker for a moment. A bare second - less - when everything seemed to be coming apart into its essential elements; every atom glowing or vibrating or spinning to its own rhythm; every solid thing suddenly smoke, every color too bright and then weirdly dim. Under it all, so low it was pressure, tension, push, was a throb, like a single heartbeat of the universe. Deafening, all-encompassing, crushing them.
Wrong wrong wrong, Jensen?
Okay, we're okay, we're- "It's fine," Jensen said, and then everything was, snapping back to normal as if nothing had happened at all. Except that now, on the console, was a slowly-blooming nebula of light and energy; the vector, opening into skip-space, into the Between.
Jensen had a purely instinctive reaction to shield his eyes, to look away, as if what he might see there was forbidden, or maybe even deadly. Jared, he could tell, had no such fear; he was craning forward, looking at the console and then looking out the vast port, as if he could see it. But the vector was opening at least a hundred-thousand k distant from them, if not more, and toward the nadir of the arcology.
We're not close enough, Jensen thought, knowing there was an undercurrent of relief there, and Jared slumped a little, but then leaned in toward the console instead.
"Fuck, look at that, it's huge," Jared breathed, and Jensen scanned the information the Quo had oh-so-considerately included with the image: size, distance, energy used, the dimensions of the 'hole', for lack of a better word, that they were making. It made his head spin and his stomach lurch, so he looked at the image instead.
Light was curling and twisting and bending back on itself, sending out hair-fine plumes of radiation or energy or decay. It seethed and knotted, twisting and expanding until it filled most of the console. The center was a burning pinprick, an open hole into a space so brilliantly lit it was hard to look at.
And the pinprick was growing. The size of a drop of water, then a fingertip, then larger; expanding more rapidly as it grew, until suddenly the entire screen flared, actinic brilliance, enough for Jared and Jensen both to flinch away, ducking, eyes squinting shut. Little gasps and cries came from all over the obs-con, and then it was fading, contracting, shifting down through the spectrum, flattening and fluttering and shredding away into the blackness until there was nothing there at all.
Almost nothing.
"There they are," Jensen breathed, as Quo lidar lit up the incoming ships with pulses of laser light. Stripped of their skip velocity and possibly without any power other than trim jets, the ships would be days coming in. Days that they would have, at least, to prepare; to plan. The console took on a life of its own for a moment, shifting different windows and menus and suddenly the lidar image was bigger, more solid, taking up the whole screen. Showing each ship individually.
"One, two, three- Fuck." Jared's finger was hovering over each ship, as if he was afraid he'd miscount, but Jensen had already seen, already calculated.
"Thirteen. There are thirteen of them. Fucking...shit, fucking hell, thirteen."
"Jensen!" somebody yelled, and Jensen twisted around, looking. It was Alinx, standing in a little knot of Quo. "Jensen, to your com three, you'd better get on that," she said, her deep-set, dark eyes glued to her own console, her hands flying. The fireflies were like a fog, all around them.
"Shit, what now, how do I-?"
"Here," Jared said, reaching past him, tapping something on the console, and suddenly a window opened, a com line. It was a false-color image, weird shades of blue-grey and grey-white, ghosty and full of interference, something that might be the outline of a person at a com station. Feedback made orange-white lines zig-zag over the image, and the only sound was a hissing, spitting mess of static.
Then it cleared with a hiss and a pop, the image clearer but still grainy, dark; the ship station seemed to be illuminated with emergency spots, leaving most of the view a muddle of shadow. The audio was coming in a little hollow, with an undercurrent of echo. The crewman's voice was ragged, exhausted sounding.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. To any ship or station in range. This is the United Stellar Federation ship Xevioso, Ensign James Urbin reporting." The man on the screen looked jump-sick, gaunt and pale, dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slur of drugs in his voice, and he was sitting awkwardly, one arm tucked tight against his ribs, as if he were hurting.
"Our convoy has lost all power and are adrift. Navigation and propulsion are out convoy-wide, life support is failing in seven ships, and we have medical emergencies on eleven ships. We-" The man speaking seemed to lose his way for a moment, one hand coming up, shaking, to rub across his mouth. His formality, his forced calm, cracked. "We need help. Please, we-"
Jensen couldn't stand it. "How do I talk to them, Jared? How-?"
"Here, just-" Jared reached across, touched something on the console, and a little glowing triangle lit up, casting a soft scatter of light onto Jensen's face. "Now talk." Jensen watched the Xevioso crewman react, the signal reaching him faster than Jensen was anticipating.
Fucking...hell
Good, you're good, you're fine, from Jared, and Jensen straightened, taking a quick breath.
"USF Xevioso, this is-" This was what? They weren't a ship, they weren't a planet, they were a myth. Would he believe the Quo had yanked them out of skip? Would Urbin - would any of them - believe they weren't hostile? Fuck, shit, and damnit. "This is Corporal Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL to the USF Tiamat-"
"Tiamat? Holy fuck!" Urbin seemed electrified, straightening with a grimace, eyes wide. "LT, we found them! Hey, we found them!" Urbin was yelling, looking somewhere to his left, and a moment later, other people - another man, a woman, someone in some kind of armor or maybe an evac suit - were crowding around the console, indistinct in the grain and shadow.
"Xevioso, what do you mean?" Jensen was aware of the same thing happening on his end; people were crowding around, jostling to look over his shoulders, though they were perfectly capable, he was sure, of seeing what was going on on their own consoles. Even a couple of Quo - Shoumei, for sure, and one other, a startling, almost-pure white - were looming in the background, humming. Jensen shuddered, and forced them out of his awareness, grateful for what was basically the white-noise of Jared's hyper brain helping to block them out.
"We've been- Fuck, we...we've been looking for you. We came- We were-" Urbin was stuttering, hands waving wildly, and the person in the back - helmetless evac suit, ripped open across one shoulder - leaned in and put their hands on the man's shoulders, squeezing with bulky, gloved fingers. Urbin leaned back with a shuddering sigh, and the woman leaned in, as gaunt as Urbin, pale hair in a messy knot at the nape of her neck, the glint of a metal stud in one broad nostril.
"Tiamat, this is Lieutenant Calypso Dee. We mutinied. Us, the Hissa Hila and the Apsû. The fucking Company…." She made a particular spacer hand-sign, and Jensen grinned.
FUBAR, that's...totally fucked. Beyond help,, Jensen thought, and Jared sent a little laugh through the 'net.
"We ran, and we kept picking up strays. Wuriupranili said you took out the Nebuchadnezzar, the Seker said you talked them over to your side. All we knew for sure was that both of you were gone, out of Company control, and that you were alive. We got a half-dozen of your old crew-mates here, mustered in after your crew mutinied." She seemed to flag for a moment, leaning heavily on the console of the station, wiping a long strand of greasy-looking hair back from her cheek.
"We've been chasing you for...three years...our supply lines were getting thin, getting cut...old caches and dumps were depleted, we were...damn desperate. Found the ghost of your skip-trail...maybe five months back, Tiamat, and we just… We were hoping like hell you had a plan, or a safe dock. We had to slave eight of us to do this last jump. We're running shakey, Tiamat, and our Angels…. We need help."
"You'll get it, Lt. Dee, fucking swear, everything you need. It's not- We're not a ship, we're a station here, a fucking arcology. We'll do whatever we can,"Jensen said. He looked up from the console, at the clustered knot of people and Quo. "Alinx, Taichou-san. Tell me what we're doing; we need to get them here now."
"We got it, we're on it, let me-" Alinx shouldered through the crowd, a handful of fireflies on her head like a crown. Her assistant - a tall, thin boy of unguessable age, loaded down with consoles and data spots and a couple fireflies, as well - was right behind her, fingers flying over several things at once.
"Xevioso, I'm senior com here on the arcology. We're going to tractor you in. Get all hands buckled in and settled, we're in count already. When we pull, you're gonna feel it, a g at least. You've got twenty minutes."
"That's gonna hurt some of us, ma'am, we've got some pretty fragile people right now," Dee said, hope warring with worry in her expression.
"Right, okay...Shoumei, we gotta ease up on that, yah? Gotta go lighter. We got you, Xevioso, talk to Jensen." Alinx was already turning away, concentrating on her console, Shoumei coming to stand beside her, and Jensen saw Dee catch sight of the towering Quo.
"Holy fuck, Tiamat, what in hell are you into?" she said, and Jensen shook his head, looking over at Jared, completely at a loss for a coherent - and brief - way to explain...anything.
"Lieutenant, you are not going to fucking believe this…"
The ships came in, caught in the ghostly bubble of the Quo tractor drive. It took thirty minutes - less - and Jensen stood by the port in the human arcology, watching as the graceful bulks of glassine, ceramic aluminum, and titanium-steel alloy were, one by one, nudged and hauled and pushed into position. Quo tugs and skimmers floated, like their fireflies, but much slower, easing the ships into dock beyond the entwined wreck of the Tiamat and Nebuchadnezzar.
On coms, Jensen listened as each ship reported docked, locked in, seals up and functioning even if, on more than one, those seals had to be manually forced. The Xevioso first, then the ships whose life support was failing; the Apsû, the Hissa Hilla, Ilya Muromets, Wu Zetian, Kanagatucko, Tangaroa, and the Svetovid. Sakayengwaraton and Aquehua both had medical issues on board that had gone beyond critical, and the Matangi and Seker were starting down that same path. Only the Wuriupranili seemed fairly stable, and that, they discovered after docking, wasn't because the crew was somehow better.
"They're all sedated, the Wuriupranili captain reported. "Every last Angel on board. It was voluntary," he added, catching the look Jensen was giving him through coms. "We ran out of down-packs five or six skips back, and the pharmacy's empty. One of the drop-ship crew had a little...still going. They cooked up a sedative. It was that or casualties, Tiamat", he said, and for the first time Jensen really saw how skip-pale and thin the man was; how his hands were shaking as he hunted through a data spot for numbers, files, a cobbled-together report for the Diablo and most especially, Doc and all her colleagues.
"You don't know...what they've done. The Company. They…"
"Save it for the briefing, Wuriupranili," Jensen said, forcing his voice to be calm. Professional. "You did what you had to do, I'm sure of it. Just...get your accesses open and let us in, we've got room for all of you; supplies, everything. You're safe."
"I'd like to think so,", the captain said, and then signed off, his voice ragged, eyes hollow from exhaustion and skip-drugs. None of the others were in much better shape; at least four others had followed Wuriupranili's example and put their Angels into what amounted to a light coma, strapped in and rigged up with IVs and nutrient pumps for the long skips. That had its own attendant problems, though. Not every self-made 'pharmacist' was as good at cooking up drugs as the Wuriupranili's seemed to be, and some of the Angels hadn't, after all, gone down willingly.
What shape those men and women would be in, once they were finally freed from that… Jensen shuddered, arms wrapped around his ribs, and reached out, clinging as discreetly as possible to the warm thrum of distracted affection from Jared. He was with the Diaboli and Quo, helping to organize quarters, mess and infirmary space for the incoming thousands. A full complement, Angels, ship crew, dropship crew, and the medevac, would number five hundred; over six thousand souls, on those thirteen ships, ideally.
But individual and group mutinies hadn't been without losses, and whatever meddling the Company had been up to had taken out troops, too. The long, long game of hide-and-seek they'd been playing, the multiple jumps, dodging of regular Marine troopships and other, still-loyal Angel ships...had all taken their toll. By Lieutenant Dee's estimation, they were docking with a little over four thousand, and close to half of those had to go straight to some kind of medical facility more advanced than the ships could offer.
It was, all in all, a huge, complicated, fucking mess, and Jensen wanted to stay in the isolated bubble of the port and the hall and the dim light; the soft whisper of the arcology trees. He didn't want to plunge into the chaos and the dying, the desperation, the need...that he couldn't fix. He was a fucking soldier - not even that! - and every person he'd talked to, on those thirteen ships out there, had spoken to him as if he were in charge. As if he knew what came next. As if he knew what to do.
He was fucking terrified.
Okay, you're okay, it's fine, Jensen, Jensen, Jared thought, little warm pets and nudges through the 'net, and Jensen took a long, deep breath. It's gonna take a while, Jared thought, amidst flashes of the chaos three levels down and in, toward the center of the human arcology. Hastily assembled beds, tables and chairs filled the mess; the Quo 3D printers and machine shops turning out what they needed as fast as possible. And while Diaboli assembled and set up, the Quo actually took apart: disassembling bulkheads and moving walls so that the spaces opened up wider and wider. Halls and rooms became sprawling bays, interrupted only by the vast Quo trees that arched up and up, meters high, to form the interlaced ceiling. Those were immovable, but every partition, every station and dispensary and console dock and recycling bin could be uncoupled and moved, providing endless configurations.
It was something they'd long planned, but gradually, over time. As they'd hoped to talk and coax and lure a ship here, a squadron there, into the Diaboli; as they endeavored to undermine the Company with the vaccine. But now...it was happening faster than anybody had thought possible, and there was just so damn much to do.
The Quo had the resources, Alinx had assured them, when she'd hastily outlined to Jared what they were doing, Jensen listening in via the 'net. That wasn't the problem. They just needed time to get it all made, set up and working smoothly. They were already setting into motion the means to capture another, smaller asteroid and hollow it; do to it whatever the Quo had done to the others in the arcology, to be used for 'ponics and tanks and vats for human food, because that was the one area they would be a little stressed in, for a while.
Quo had a very specialized, very not-human-friendly diet, and there was no possibility of crossover there. And nobody wanted to live on protein-goo and reconstituted algae for any longer than they had to.
I should come help, Jensen thought, but Jared pushed back firmly as he blew a loose strand of hair out of his face, rubbed his nose on his shoulder, and then sniffed. The new-monomer smell of the freshly printed Quo material made his nose itch.
No. You're Tiamat. They need to see you, talk to you. You're the one, Jensen; the Angels need you.
"Of course you'd say that," Jensen muttered, but he smiled at the earnestness in Jared's voice, and the shivery little throb of believe in the 'net.
Fortified, at least a little, Jensen brushed his hand back through the spiky hair he'd freshly clipped a day or two ago, and straightened his shirt-hem. He still had on at least three layers, but none of them were an oversized coat or two-meter long scarf, and his shirts at least fitted him, as did his trousers. He was presentable, if not outstanding.
He turned away from the port and strode down the hall, and into the small foyer where two lift-bubbles rode. He stepped into one and it sank, down and down, to the docking level. He had people to greet, and information to give and get, and if he did it right - if he kept his fucking head and didn't fall apart in some spectacular, messy way - he could at least be of some use.
At least that.
Chapter twenty-two.
Originally entered at http://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/197412.html - comment where you please!