'The World Where Yesternight You Died - part 26
And the end!! Except for the epilogue. Which follows right after. :D
Also at AO3.
Upon a cloud among the stars we stood.
The angel raised his hand and looked and said,
“Which world, of all yon starry myriad,
Shall we make wing to?” The still solitude
Became a harp whereon his voice and mood
Made spheral music round his haloed head.
I spake-for then I had not long been dead-
“Let me look round upon the vasts, and brood
A moment on these orbs ere I decide …
What is yon lower star that beauteous shines
And with soft splendour now incarnadines
Our wings?-There would I go and there abide.”
Then he as one who some child’s thought divines:
“That is the world where yesternight you died.”
Lloyd Mifflin - The Flight
They moved into the space about fifty-million kilometers from Salome between one breath and the next. The hum of the powerful arcology engine had glowed and growled and grown and grown, higher and faster and brighter, until everything seemed to be screaming, burning; moving, without moving at all.
And then iynght srahzss, and everything came apart and everything stopped and everything moved, and then Jensen was blinking, gasping in a ragged breath, looking around the obs-com deck where everything was...exactly the same. Fireflies, clustered tightly around their respective Quo, flared bright and zoomed up and out, all of them, as if shaking off some paralysis, and the Quo huffed and shuffled a little, bony knuckles dancing over console surfaces.
"Is that...it?" Jared asked, echoing the 'net, and Jensen looked up at the port, at the starfield shown there, and felt his heart jump, extra-hard beat knocking in his chest. The Giraffe system - dirty, crowded, immense, with its strange, there-not-there, gargantuan heart of a black hole - was gone. Instead, Salome swung in that view, a system both familiar and strangely alien, after so long. Salome was a distant, pink-hued dot, almost lost in the background scatter of planetoids and dust rings and the sullen glow of the system's bulging, red giant star, called Arcturus. Its companion - it was a binary system - was dimmer, its orbit currently putting it on the far side of the ecliptic, nearly invisible. As Jensen watched, the cameras zoomed in, refining the image, and now Jensen could see Salome itself, pink-grey and shrouded in rushing, twisting dust storms. And curled around her like the steel and glassine bones of giant fingers, the new, vast scaffold of the Company shipyards.
Beneath the curdled, curling rush of endless storms was Company headquarters. Sunk deep into the hidden crust of the planet itself were layers and layers of habitat; offices and medical wings, classrooms and dormitories, laboratories and hydroponics and training courses; kilometer after kilometer of featureless hallways. Somewhere in there had been added birthing suites, according to Kee; creches for the newly-born Angels. In the lowest, most protected levels, were the living quarters and offices of the highest ranks; Directors and Managers and all manner of suits, living in their own little private city, a paradise of cloned greenery and filtered water and clean, bright air.
Or so it was rumored - so it was whispered. No Angel had ever been there, that was for sure, and the Company closed ranks on any speculation about how they lived, how they were paid - what their rewards were. The Company - with its own rules, its own laws, its own security forces; practically its own government. And now its own citizens, or maybe slaves? Quasi-human, made and molded. Their own army, and no wonder the military and the United Stellar Federation had let them have free rein.
"So, what now?" Jared asked, and Jensen was wondering the same thing. The Quo wouldn't attack; had no weapons that Jensen was aware of. They had a plan, but nobody had explained it to any human. And it wouldn't take long for Salome - for the Company - to notice them. Even if the Company couldn't track iynght srahzss, something the size of the arcology, that had just punched a hole through billions of light years of space, was loud. They probably had about five minutes, tops, before all kinds of alarms would start going off.
Jensen could feel the rising excitement in the 'net; could feel the anticipation of a fight, of a mission; of Angels wanting to get back their own, to show the Company once and for all that they were not owned - that they were free.
The Matangi, Apsû, Seker, the Wu Zetian, Kanagatucko, and Hissa Hila were docked in a ring around the equator of the arcology. Now they powered up, one after the other, the Angels on board unlocking armor that had frozen into 'ready' position for the ride. They checked weapons, ordered themselves into squads and platoons, braced and ready and on. A mass run on the showers had gone down in the last hours in the Giraffe system; ArchANGELS that had signed up for armor and a ship chemically stripping away hair, re-dying skin, touching up tattoos.
Readying themselves for war.
Kee, in a half-tube now, freed of the breather, and a fine fuzz of grey-sprinkled curls growing over her skull, had been unceremoniously stood down by Doc before she'd even had time to say 'yes' or 'no' on her own, though it was obvious she couldn't do a damn thing outside the 'net. Sinna had just shaken her head, her own skull layered in fine, blue-black hair like feathers, long enough to touch her ears, now, wisps hanging down to the narrow, dark eyebrows that had grown in in gentle arcs.
The rest - some vets, like Suni, some greenies like Than - had also said no, showing, in the 'net, that they were simply...done. Too tired, or too damaged, or simply unwilling to fight again, kill again. Being on the arcology - free of the Company - had shown them they could do other things. Be other things. They were there - they were Angels. They always would be. But, Suni had said, his long, dark eyes grave and calm, his scarred hands resting gently on the shoulders of two greenies that sat at his feet, Some angels were teachers, or messengers, or makers. We don't have to fight, nutánqusosqews, nutánqus'. We can just be.
So just a little over three thousand were on the ships, with crews and troopers, too, drop-ships ready. And some that had stayed behind were in armor, as well, because they would defend, if the arcology was boarded, but nothing more. Jensen had agonized over it, but in the end, he'd decided to stay on the arcology, to be in command, even though it grated on him to abandon his Angels.
Not abandoned, stop that, it's good it's needed, ready-steady and we will go, we'll go, you lead us, need a head, need someone thinking Kane had thought, insistent, and others had taken it up, until Jensen had backed down, reluctantly.
He walked the few feet to the half-dozen Quo that were standing over their consoles, clicking and hissing and booming to each other. Shoumei was there, despite protests from other Quo, and Hakase. Taichou-san and Alinx were there, and Raleigh and Doc and Morgan. Jensen pushed into the loose circle, looking up at the Quo first, and then around, until bony Quo knuckles and human fingers stopped moving, and they were silent. Watching him.
"In about three minutes, they're gonna know we're here, if they don't already. The Company has their own militia, and it's probably all those...those new Angels, now. Those made...Angels. We need to launch the ships, and we need to- You need to tell me what your plan is. For if they attack." The fireflies hummed, blinking, spiraling up and then down again, lighting on their individual Quo, and Jensen braced one leg back a little, shoulders squared, consciously not clenching his fists.
He gazed up into Hakase's face, waiting.
"Su, su, su," Hakase said, and lifted their hands, a conciliatory sort of gesture. A translator firefly drifted down, blinking in slow, lavender pulses. "There has been detection of movement," Hakase said, and Jensen felt adrenaline like a shock go through him, jolting and hot. "There are ships coming in from system edge. There is skip generation. There is iynght srahzss."
"Wait. What do you-? Do you mean the Company can...can do that?" Jensen said, and fuck, his heart was pounding now, his hands shaking, and he struggled to damp it down, keep it out of the 'net. But he knew Jared was hearing, looming over Doc at the edge of the circle. Hearing and maybe not bothering to filter it.
Qemuel what report report from Kane, and Jinx, and Jensen took a hard breath in and shook his head slightly. Hell, he wasn't filtering, either.
Stand by wait not clear stand by
He looked around the circle but everyone, Quo and Human alike, were looking at Hakase, and Jensen braced himself for, oh fuck, the worst possible news.
"Hakase, is the Company going to use...that, that…yingt zrazs on us?" Jensen said, doing his best, but he saw Alinx wince ever so slightly over his mangling of the word.
"Nahht," Hakase said, and put heavy, bony hands on Jensen's shoulders, their fireflies swarming down their arms and circling around behind Jensen and then back up again, to hover over Hakase's shoulders. "Zhen...ssen. Nhoo. It is..." Hakase trilled a sound at a firefly and the translator one was back, hovering. "It is Uuhruus arcology come. They bring Chi'khs arcology come, and the-" The translator firefly made a sound that was like a string of clicks and coughs, nothing like the Quo language; more machine than organic.
"I don't- What-?"
"They mean Stick, yah?" Alinx said, and Jensen just stared at her, his mind going to static-nothing. Stick. Stick.
"Coming...here? Stick are-?"
"Jensen-"
"Wait, now-" Alinx and Doc spoke at the same moment, but whatever they were saying was lost, drowned in a surge of noise, a static bomb in his head that cleared, abruptly, at a startled, internal flinch from Jared.
"Battle stations battle stations, this is Command Actual, Stick incoming all hands brace and lock, all ships uncouple and go, scatter formation, Stick incoming," Go go go! Jensen felt the shockwave of his alert flash out, hitting the 'net like a bomb, racing to the very edges, the furthest possible reach. And then felt it hit, rebound, and surge back to him.
Excitement, dismay, anger, horror, terror, swamped him. But riding high on that, clear and precise, was Kane, Jinx, Lt. Trejos, Lt. Dee, so many others. Command, ship and battalion and platoon and squad. Deadly calm, battle focus coming online, ingrained and oh, so familiar.
"Acknowledged Command Actual, Stick incoming, we are a go, Hissa Hila is a go."
"Apsû is a go." Ship after ship, precise and perfect.
Right up the line, as if choreographed, as every Angel in every ship powered up, put weapons online, and hit their go-mark. Red hot but somehow calm, without the underlying, frenetic, skittery energy of a go-pack or ultrasounds. On, in, solid, ready-steady.
"Acknowledged, all stations, all personnel; stand ready for go, this is Command Actual, stand ready for go," Jensen said - sent - and he glanced up and saw Morgan, wide-eyed but calm, talking rapidly with Raleigh. Jared pushed past Doc and just reached - grabbed - yanked Jensen close and smothered him, for a moment, body and 'net alike.
"Jensen, fuck, oh..." Fuck fuck fuck, are we going to fight? Jensen-
"It's okay, you're okay, steady, honey, c'mon." Here home us all in all safe, Jared, us, we, all safe
"Fuck," Jared said, and then he stepped back, his arms sliding free of their death-grip around Jensen. He wiped the blade of his hand under his eyes, fast, and sniffed. "Fuck, I'm not- This is fucking scary shit, Jensen." His hazel eyes were huge, and Jensen could feel him, trying to tamp it all down and shove it away, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking as he smiled a thin, crooked smile.
Not a soldier, he always said. But not afraid, no. Just...not stupid.
"Yeah. But we got this. Ready-steady," Jensen said, and safe with us safe with me, always
Lights flashed, suddenly, on every console. A high, grating alarm went off, a string of rasping buzzes that made every Quo straighten up, heads lifting and long snouts curling up, frozen for a moment.
"Ships have uncoupled, all ships have uncoupled, arcology may destabilize momentarily," a translator firefly said, spinning in a tight spiral over their heads. Jensen braced, and so did Jared and every Angel left behind, and the arcology seemed to skip for a moment, weightless and then too heavy, and then it was back to normal, over in a heartbeat.
"Shit," someone said, and Jensen was pretty sure it was Alinx.
"Qemuel, you need to listen," Stand down, Angel Morgan said, and Jensen felt his lips lifting in a snarl, the 'net seething. Doc snorted, shoving between them and giving Morgan a look, and then putting her back to him, right up in Jensen's face.
"You need to listen a minute, Jensen. Don't be- Fuck's sake, don't start a damn fight out there. We knew; Quo knew the Stick would be here," Doc said, and it was like a sudden faceful of cold water, stinging shock.
"What the fuck, Doc? Morgan, fucking report, what the fucking hell?" Jensen said, and Morgan took Doc's shoulders in flesh and polycarbonate hands and gently turned her aside.
"Affirmative, they knew. The Company got Stick DNA, remember? They didn't get it with permission. They've been stealing DNA and tech from Stick for...fuck, almost two hundred years. They were our first contact. Why do you think we're fighting them?"
"Because...because Stick, they- The attacks, the...colonies, wiped out, they- They-" Jensen floundered, and Morgan was shaking his head, slow, his gaze direct and calm and infinitely, infinitely tired.
No. Sorry, I'm sorry. They told us...
And then the 'net was flooded with images, with history. History Jensen had never seen before, not like this. The Quo had showed the Diaboli, and Morgan, what the Company had done, years and years ago. First contact with Stick in a Company outpost, long before it had become what it was, when it was still a mining concern. Stick and humans both wary, curious but initially peaceful, until some misunderstanding, some far-flung variation in thought and process had triggered a confrontation.
And then deaths, the Stick reacting with a ferocity unimagined, and the Company outpost left in a shambles, with few survivors; the Stick cohort withdrawing. But from that wreckage had come samples, bits of tech, an idea.
The Company had mutated and changed and grown, and they had acquired Salome and built their buried labs, and experimented. Every tiny step forward had been skewed toward profit, toward acquisition, toward control. The ANGEL system, the military contracts, ArchANGELS...on and on and on.
But they needed more, always more. They ran out of cell lines, out of tech, out of workable leads, and so they manufactured attacks and outrages, they stirred up hate, they programmed their soldiers and crews to obey, to fight, to kill. To have no mercy.
They sent troops and ArchANGELS on mission after mission, attack after attack. Hounding the Stick, who fought back with unflinching ferocity, the Company had killed hundreds - thousands - without thought. They found the Glorianna and they mined her DNA and gene banks for more indentured workers, for more ANGELS. They created monsters, and they didn't care.
All in the pursuit of money, and power, and control. All for the sake of greed, for dominion. All for themselves. They culled their ranks without thought; coerced and threatened and murdered and stole, lives and souls.
All of it poured out, through the 'net, like fire and acid and hammer-blows, and Jensen could feel the Angels reeling under the assault; could feel Jared's arm around his shoulders, long fingers digging into Jensen's bicep, his breath gusting hot and damp over Jensen's throat. And the 'net screamed.
Killed us they killed us they made us to kill us corrupted us used us animals to them not human nothing used us hurt us kill them kill them kill them
"Jenss-sen, fuck," Jared said, breathless and shaking, the 'net dinning in their brains, so many voices, so much emotion; more and louder and more until it was a feedback snarl, static whiteout, overload.
Something boomed and hissed over the Quo coms, and a firefly bobbed up nearly in Jensen's face, pulsing pink-yellow. "Ship's weapons are live online, ship's weapons are live online, query orders, query next, query protocol."
"Shit, Jensen-"
"Stand the fuck down-" Morgan and Doc together, and Alinx muttering in some other language than English, fingers flying over her console.
Hakase shuffled forward a step, and Shoumei did too, and then all of the Quo, coming up close and reaching out, arms linking, shoulders brushing. And then...noise. Humming, infrasonic, subsonic, ultrasonic; thrumming, throbbing, sinking into Jensen's bones. It was deafening and almost painful, pulsing through him, and Jared curled tighter into him, making a small, shocked noise.
The sound dipped down lower, impossibly basso, and higher at the same time, a whine that went to something thin and ringing, hitting every spot in Jensen's brain that was used to it, that had needed it, once upon a time. It flooded his system with endorphins, adrenaline, pleasure; fuck, it was like being petted from the inside out, it was like being fucked, it was like being hugged. Jensen was aware, dimly, that his knees were buckling and his brain was fuzzing; that the others - other humans - were reacting, as well. And the 'net was hushing, smoothing down, going still, going so very quiet. Soporific waves, a not-quite-tangible touch that rippled through and through them until suddenly, it was gone.
Jensen blinked, then lifted his head, looking up (on his knees, fuck), Jared beside him, both of them breathing hard. He felt so damn relaxed, warm, loose in his skin. The Quo had backed off a bit, not looming over them now, and the humans were shaking their heads, Alinx with her eyes squinted shut, her assistant curled down over his consoles, fist against his ear. So - not good for regular people, either.
Hakase murmured something, too loud, and Jensen flinched.
"Apologies," a firefly piped, and Jensen tried to focus on it. "We could not let there be violence. We could not allow blood spilled," it said, and Jensen looked past it, at Hakase's long, solemn face, hovering so far above him.
"You can't...can't just-"
"It was incorrect,", Hakase said, and sighed, shuffling a little on wide, clawed feet. "It is not correct, coerce or control. But we needed a moment, so that you could be without emotion."
"Don't think that's possible," Jared said, and all at once he was on his feet, heaving his long limbs upright, pushing himself into Hakase's face. "Don't do that, that's just like the fucking Company. That's...that's fucking wrong."
"We are sorrow, Jared. But please to listen. All of you must listen."
Jensen became aware, slowly, of the 'net waking up, of confused queries coming in from the ship, from Kane, from the rest. All of them, coming up out of the stupor of pleasure and warmth, too. Jensen telegraphed intent, and Jared turned around and held out his hand, pulling, strong and steady, until Jensen was up on his feet next to him, keeping Jared's hand in his.
"The whole-? Did you broadcast that? To all the ships, to...everyone?"
"To Aaahn-guls, su, su, su," Hakase said. The other Quo had shifted back a little, but Hakase was still much too close, looming over them both, heat and their distinctive scent in Jensen's nose. "You must listen well all."
"Don't do that," Jensen said, still dazed, and a moment later he was reeling again as Kane's thoughts cut through the fog, as narrow a communication as possible in the 'net.
Alert, alert, alert, movement, power up
"Command Actual, we have ships going live, repeat, ships going live at Salome. It looks like...three, four...six Annihilation-class ships are in undock from the shipyards."
"Acknowledged, Command One." Jensen could feel Jared like a tightly-wound spring next to him, quivering with the need to move, go, do. His own heart was pounding again, shaking off the last of what Hakase had done to them, the heat of his blood burning off the fog. The Quo's consoles, and Alinx', were making noise, flashing lights; seeing what Kane was seeing, Jensen was sure.
"They've got ships, ships like Annihilation, they're on the move," Jensen said, and Hakase bobbed slowly, long nose tucking down and curling under, just a little. The firefly pulsed between them, humming.
"We know this. They must also listen."
"They're not going to listen! They don't care-"
"Armaments are live! Command Actual, armaments are live on Company ships," Kane said, his voice clipped and hard, eager.
"Battle stations, battle stations, bring up armaments, go live, we have incoming unfriendlies, we have Stick at system edge, friendlies at system edge, Quo arcologies, go live, prepare for maneuvers, lock down steady, ready, go on my command!"
"Acknowledged." Acknowledged...acknowledged...acknowledged, echoing in the 'net from the ships, from the Angels on board in arms and armor, racing to key points, locking down and bracing for whatever would come next. Suni, and his greenies, and the rest who were not in the fight were in quarters, with Sinna and Kee, gathering close, hands and arms wrapped around each other; protective, anxious, sad.
Acknowledged and ready, Suni sent, and Jensen sent them all love you us me we all mine, family, all, we will win we will win, fierce, furious, all-encompassing. He turned to Hakase, to Alinx and Morgan, anger, fear, and fight fight fight all twisting in his chest. A tightly wound spring, shivering with tension, that would explode at a touch.
"I need to be on the Hissa Hila. I need to get out there now," he said, and Hakase made a mournful sort of noise, fireflies spiraling up and around.
"Zheeeen...sen -"
"No, Hakase. I understand that you don't want...violence. But if I'm not out there, if I'm not with them, it's going to be violent. It's going to be slaughter. Get me out there." Jensen felt like he couldn't quite get a full breath, a band constricting his chest, his lungs refusing to expand. He could feel his heart pounding against this ribs and every instinct in him was screaming to go, to move, to fight defend go go go.
He forced himself to stand still, to see the Quo, and the arcology Diaboli. To feel Jared just behind him, the solid press of Jared's hand to Jensen's back, the heat of him. He had other choices, he had other ways. He had his Angels, and the Quo, and the Diaboli; his actions were his own, and he was not - they were not - the animals the Company had tried to make them.
"I don't want- I won't shoot first, I won't let us shoot first. I want to fix this without fighting, Hakase. I do. But I have to be there. These are my Angels, this is- It's their lives, and everything the Company did to them, all the ways they twisted them. I have to be there."
Hakase swayed in place, their fireflies pulsing, fluttering up and around, up and around. They made a low, rumbling hum, shivering through Jensen's bones, through the 'net. Shoumei joined them, and the other Quo, the fireflies all blinking, blinking, blinking, pale and then brighter, over and over.
"Su, su, su," Hakase said, finally, and put one heavy, bony hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Zhen-ssen," Hakase said, and then lapsed into Quo, a firefly darting up between them, translating. "It was against belief, to...cajole you. We are sorrow. You must to your ship.". "Su, su, su." Hakase lifted their hand away and turned a little, saying something the firefly didn't translate, and Alinx' console chimed.
"There's a skimmer, yah?" she said, and looked up, making a small, breathy sound toward the fireflies. One darted over and Alinx' console chimed at it. The firefly blinked, flared bright green, and then settled, pulsing slightly. "Follow this one, yah? Take you to the Hissa Hila. Go now."
Jensen ducked his head in a nod and turned to Jared; got a fist into Jared's shirt and pulled him into a brief, hard kiss, have to go stay stay safe need you safe coming back love you love
"Go, go love you with you go go go," Jared said, and Jensen turned and ran.
It was like a slow-motion nightmare, to watch the ships. Jared shifted on his feet, staring over Suni's shoulder at the console, and the holo projection of the system. He'd had to come down, to be with the others; couldn't stand another moment on his own in coms. Morgan had come, too, easing into the room and then being enfolded, no different, and Jared had felt a release of some tiny, brittle tension in the 'net at that.
But now, all he could do was stare at the specks that moved, bright light, in the air. The Angel ships were a glowing blue, 'their' Quo a slightly greener shade of the same color. Salome was pinkish-red, and the ships lifting from the shipyard were a brighter, bloodier hue.
The Stick ships were vivid purple, and the other two Quo arcologies an amber-green. And all of them were moving, in a stately sort of dance, together. Converging on a location that was almost midway between them and Salome, and a cascade of numbers and code fell steadily down the side of the display, almost too fast to read.
Armaments, engines, heat signatures, angle, vector, velocity
The information came to Jared through the filter of the Angels, letting him see the data as they saw it; the speed of incoming targets, possible and probable courses laid down in layers, constantly updating with data that was already minutes old. Possible fire vectors were plotted, overlapping, blinking out and retracing, and Jared…
Jared felt so damn, fucking helpless. He wasn't an Angel, he wasn't a soldier. Never had been, not for the Diaboli, not for the Company. The cool, logical plotting of the deaths of thousands made him feel faintly sick and absolutely horrified. But then a wave of excitement would hit; anticipation, a feral, exulting glee that felt...good.
Enemy end them not us outsider Company take them down out kill them all end it end it
Jensen would push in over that, urging calm, ording no, his own desire to see Salome a smoking ruin hobbled by the knowledge that there were millions of civilians there; kids, some of them, who'd won the lottery, who'd gotten lucky, been chosen, special.
Who were even now being wrapped and twisted and tied in strings of virus and DNA, chromosome chains. Jared shivered, pressing in closer to Suni, to Sinna. Head down and eyes closed, he pushed his own first year or two at Salome into the 'net, showing them, letting them know. Too much to lose, can't hurt them, innocent, they're innocent
And Kee was there, too, with memories of her Angels; deliberately made warped and unable, forever hobbled. But still there, for her, in the 'net - still beings of emotion and need, however blunted. They, too, were innocent, and not even given the status of human, or individual. Just Company wind-up toys, discarded on a whim.
Have to stop it, help them, part of us, us, us Jared thought, and Kee agreed, though Kee, too, wanted Salome gone, obliterated.
"Huuuh," someone said, a startled sort of hum, and a flicker ran through the 'net, making Jared lift his head sharply, looking. The Annihilator class ships had gone from a scarlet to an almost incandescent blood-red, and a new set of numbers had popped up next to them, spooling out white.
"What?" Jared said, and Sunni lifted his hand, fingertip ghosting through the numbers.
"They're powering up something big. Looks like-" Nukes, plasma-bomb, something, something…
"Oh fuck, oh, no." Jensen, get out of there
We see we know safe safe came back, distracted, and Jared watched as new lines traced over the screen, new possibilities. The Stick ships suddenly moved, faster than the Company ships, driving forward and then arcing up, down - subjective up and down - diving for the Company ships.
Shit, fuck, no! "Quo! Hakase! Tell them stop, tell them to just stop, no firing, tell the Stick to back the hell off!" Jensen said, his voice thin and a little distorted through coms.
"Su, su, su," came back, and then something else. Stick language, trills and clicks and coughing grinds. Some kind of announcement, or warning, Jared hoped. Then Quo language, then Stick again, and finally Human, a translator firefly, over the arcology coms.
"All ships all stop, not to engage, all ships all stop, allies all, T'ssmg'ku, Uuhruus, Chi'khs, human ships - allies all, speak all." The incomprehensible Stick name was in there, too, grating, and Jared found himself leaning forward, as if getting closer to the display would somehow affect what was happening.
Three minute delay on all comms, stand by, stand by, from Jensen, and they waited, silent, while the Quo message flew across light years, and the Stick ships...kept moving.
"Come on, come on, stop, just stop," Jared muttered, and a hand - Than's - insinuated into his, clutching tight. Jared clung back, his heart thumping in his chest hard enough to feel, fluttering in his throat. He felt sick, he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin.
What happened next was...chaos. It happened so fast, and was over so quickly, Jared wasn't one hundred percent sure what he'd seen. One moment, the ships were moving, following plotted traces, deadly but still stoppable. The next moment, a sudden blooms of mercury-white appeared, one, two, threefour, and ships…ships were…
Expanding clouds, scattered pieces. One Stick ship, one Angel ship, simply gone. Two more burning dots were static, churning and boiling and motionless, and then two of the seven remaining Stick ships dove, and one of the Annihilation class ships was hit, a deadly arrow gone to a cloud of gas and debris, tumbling remains. Another was hit but mostly whole, crippled but still firing, and a Stick ship slewed around, showing damage, a steady bleed of power and forward momentum.
The 'net seemed to go dead for one long moment, and then it crashed down on them like a wave, like a fist. The dead and the dying, in the 'net; last moments, last impulses, voices crying out, shock and horror and pain and then nothing.
Aching silence where they were no more, just the numb pulse of a severed limb. Jared groaned, going to his knees, and around him others went down; greenies and seniors alike, some of the kids gagging, clawing away, others curling into shaking, crying balls.
Stop them stop it please, Jensen, make them stop
"Hakase, fucking tell them stop, cease fire, cease fire, this is Command Actual, cease fucking fire, disengage, disengage, move, go, now!" from Jensen, his voice a whiplash through the distortion.
Quo language boomed out, loud, so full of ultra and infra sounds that Jared thought he was going to lose consciousness; vision going to a tunnel, spangles and stars, black rushing in. Than's hand gripped down on Jared's, bruising-hard, and the lance of pain cleared Jared's head for a moment, allowing him to look up, eyes watering, at the holo.
A line arced out from a Stick ship, so fast it was hard to follow, and then Salome was blooming outward in the holo, an eruption of atmo and fire and debris, something on the surface hit and destroyed and the plume of it went up and up, out of Salome's thin atmosphere, into space. The Angel ships were arching away; the Stick ships were still coming, the Company ships driving hard away from Salome, wedge formation, headed for the Stick.
"Hakase"! Jensen roared, and the air seemed to...to… Jared didn't know what was happening. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, and for one long, horrible, chest-burning moment, he couldn't breathe. Light bloomed across the holo, whiting everything out, expanding, burning, taking the air apart to atoms, to molecules, to nothing; the universe gone and there in the same breath, a weight so heavy Jared could feel his bones creak.
And then it was gone, over, done, and the quarters seemed lightless by comparison. Jared couldn't hear anything but the roar of his own breathing; the thump of his heart. Gradually, by increments, light, and sound came back, a steady climb from nothing to the warm, amber-green-pink of the quarters, and the steady, cool blue of Kee's modified generation tube. Than's fingers opened with a shaky little spasm, and Jared hissed as blood rushed back to the starved tissues.
Sorry, sorry Than thought, distracted, and Jared pushed himself upright from the tight-curled lump he'd been a moment before, heart fluttering, fluttering, fluttering in his chest, his breathing shocky-fast and too shallow. Patting Than on the shoulder, distracted, he tried to make sense of what was on the holo.
What? What did-? "Oh, God," Jared said, as the holos fuzzed and cleared and steadied, and the system came back online, stars and ships and the arcology popping back up on the display.
"What did-? Where is it? Wh-where's Salome?" Jensen, oh God, is it gone? Where is it?
Where Salome had been was...nothing. A little clutter of debris churned like wake in the gaping hole left behind.
"Report, all ships, fucking check in, status, damnit! Tell me where the damn Stick are," Jensen snarled, curled down around the pain of losing that ship - those lives. Who was it, who was hit, who who who
Klaxons and alarms were blaring through the ships. Jensen was getting them in coms, in person, and in the 'net, and he felt like he was about five seconds from losing it. The harness holding him into the observer-post seat was cutting into his shoulders (Captain Onray had offered her seat, but hell if Jensen was going to usurp her, he just needed to be here), and his head was swimming from what-the-fuck-ever had just happened.
"Quemel, fuck-" Look, look from Kane, over at the arms-prime board, braced in his armor and looking wildly at screens and holos.
"Report, damnit! What ship did we lose, what happened?" Jensen said. Then his eyes finally focussed, the tunnel of his vision flattening out and he could see the display, the system - the ships - and the hole where Salome was not.
"It's gone. It's just...it's gone, Salome is- Let me see the, yeah- Fuck!" Kane's armored fingers tapped something on a console, another Angel leaning out of his way. All around them, the bridge of the Hissa Hila was frozen, shock making reaches for boards and floating consoles abortive, shaky, incomplete. The alarms howled, and lights were blinking, strobing, shattering over them.
Jensen felt a sharp, horrified jolt of emotion from Jared and he shook his head once, sharply, as if throwing off water; breaking the paralysis.
"Get me Hakase," he said to the com-prime, in what felt like a damn steady voice, and she blinked at him for a long second and then turned to the board, hitting a holo-key, doing her job, steadying down as Jensen did. He poured that steadiness into the 'net; enfolded her in a brief, powerful burst of love and admiration and then sent it out, hard. Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen could see com-prime blink again, and smile, push a strand of hair back off her forehead and then steady down all the way, focused - good. Captain Onray, away to Jensen's right, was leaning into her consoles, keying alarms off, silencing the klaxon, getting the bridge crew moving, thinking again. Calm rippled out, from her and Jensen and com-prime, going out and out.
Good, we're good, ready-steady, my Angels
"It was the Kanagatucko, Jensen," Captain Onray said, a low voice just for his ears, and Jensen acknowledged with scant nod, the hurt in the 'net still throbbing.
"Zhhen..sen. Su, su, su," Hakase said, and Jensen breathed in, long, and then out.
"Hakase. Where-? What happened to Salome?"
"Iynght srahzss, Zhenssen. Uuhruus, Chi'khs, they make go..." There was a moment's pause, and then a firefly piped up instead, the voice higher, softer. "We take Salome and go, go to safe, go to M'mtss. Too much damage, too much hurt, needed them to be safe."
"You took...you took a whole...a whole fucking planet back to...to the Giraffe." A planet. An entire planet, and the shipyards, just...poofed away, moved millions of light-years. "Did it-? How is that possible? And what-? I mean, the system, how will that-?"
They're safe? Are they safe? They're not dead, it's not gone, they didn't...didn't blow them all up, they're safe, they're safe A rising, relieved, heading-toward-slightly-hysterical tide from Jared, from Sunni and Sinna and Kee, from the Angels left behind and, faster and faster, the Angels on the ships.
Ships, hell.
"Sariel, what are the Stick doing? And the Company ships? Hakase, we've got to- They'll surrender, they have to, we need-"
"Su, su, su,", Hakase said, rumbling over coms, and Jensen could see the huge, hunched figure in his mind's eye, the down-curved, mobile snout and dark, dark eyes and the bright, light swirl of fireflies all about; links and data and memory, in pastel little gleams. "You can make for peace, Zhenssen. You are fit for peace. We will help. All help, all safe, all, all."
All us all here home safe us us we you me, Jared thought, and Kane, and Jinx; all of them, a spiraling thread of amber-pink emotion, warm and soft and full of love. All of them - all of them - together, safe...home.
"Okay," Jensen said, softly. And then he straightened up in his chair and gave a nod to the pilot - Company drop-ship crew, promoted, proud, fledgling Angel, his. "Captain Onray, contact the Company ships, sue for their surrender. Tell them...about Salome. Tell them… Hell, zip up our damn story out of archive and send it out, broadcast. Get the Quo to put a translator file on there for the Stick. Tell them full stop and just...wait." Captain Onray nodded and started working, fingers flying, mouth moving as she spoke quietly into a mic, getting the job done.
"Hakase, explain to the Stick, tell the Company ships about Salome, too, just...hit 'em with everything we got. Slow 'em down before anybody starts firing again."
"Su, su, su. You tell, all, Zhenssen. Sssa-ome, they hear, listen."
Something crackled and then clicked, a sharp, echoing pop, and a voice came over coms, too-young, scared sounding, trying to be brave. Jensen could hear, faintly, alarms in the background, klaxons and shrill beepings; fire, damage, calamity, help.
"This is Salome Central Command to...to unknown...entities. We- Where-? What happened? I don't- Please identify."
Poor damn kid. Sounded like they'd come in the middle of third shift, some junior officer scrambling while actual authority was alerted. Grabbed by unknown beings, whisked millions of light-years away, and trying to cope with an attack on top of it all, with who knew what casualties, what damage..
"Salome Central Command, this is Jensen AR. You’re- Hell, you're alright, you hear?"
"We took damage, there was a strike from orbit. I don't- This is not our system, J-Jensen."
"No, it's not. It's...it's-" The information came via the 'net, via Morgan, and Jensen sent back a grateful, mental hug. "Galaxy cluster MS 0735.6+7421. Use your library, we know it. Listen, you're safe. The Quo are going to help; they're allies, I promise. Hold and wait for a data burst, you hear?"
"The...Quo? Acknowledged," the kid said, after a long moment, and Jensen could only imagine the panic and desperation at Salome. He felt a sudden surge of rage at the thought of the Company trying to fuck the Quo around, and tamped it down, hard. The Quo could fend for themselves. The Company's teeth had been pulled, mostly, with the loss of their ships and the sudden introduction into a brand new system, a brand new everything.
How are they stabilizing the planet, are they putting them in orbit? How do they get a transmission that far? How-? What-? Jared, and the rest of the 'net were a babble of confusion and speculation, and Jensen hushed them, Jinx and Kane with him, forcing calm. They needed to be damn calm. On the holo, the Stick ships were forming up, closer than Jensen would like, but at least not showing active launches. Angels were moving in for salvage and rescue, and the Company ships seemed...stalled out. Confused, but listening. Com-prime sent a signal to Jensen's console, showing the transmission of all their data, all their archive, everything. Ready to go. Jensen reached out, hit the key, and sent it.
"Com-prime, all ships, and Salome, too." Com-prime nodded, and Jensen took a long, deep breath in.
Love you, Jared, love you, us we me you all, love you all, all
'This is...Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL Command Actual aboard the…" Jensen paused, heart pounding and then soaring, when it came to him, exactly what to say, to make them understand. It hit the 'net and came back to him with a roar of pure approval. "...aboard the Independent Angel Starship Hissa Hila. Please scan and acknowledge our data transmission; that is the sum total of our archive, detailing how we came to mutiny from the Company, cure their cancers in the 'net, and find the Quo. We are calling for your surrender as allies, not prisoners, and we assure you that Salome and all those living down-well and in the shipyards are alive and well and in the care of the Quo, who are our allies."
Something else in the 'net, Kane and then Morgan, and Jensen was smiling, smiling so hard his eyes were stinging, just a little.
"I repeat - this is Commander Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL Command Actual aboard the Independent Angel Starship Hissa Hila, and we're coming to take you home, Angels. We're coming to take you home."
Part twenty-seven.
Originally entered at https://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/201627.html - comment where you please!
Also at AO3.
Upon a cloud among the stars we stood.
The angel raised his hand and looked and said,
“Which world, of all yon starry myriad,
Shall we make wing to?” The still solitude
Became a harp whereon his voice and mood
Made spheral music round his haloed head.
I spake-for then I had not long been dead-
“Let me look round upon the vasts, and brood
A moment on these orbs ere I decide …
What is yon lower star that beauteous shines
And with soft splendour now incarnadines
Our wings?-There would I go and there abide.”
Then he as one who some child’s thought divines:
“That is the world where yesternight you died.”
Lloyd Mifflin - The Flight
They moved into the space about fifty-million kilometers from Salome between one breath and the next. The hum of the powerful arcology engine had glowed and growled and grown and grown, higher and faster and brighter, until everything seemed to be screaming, burning; moving, without moving at all.
And then iynght srahzss, and everything came apart and everything stopped and everything moved, and then Jensen was blinking, gasping in a ragged breath, looking around the obs-com deck where everything was...exactly the same. Fireflies, clustered tightly around their respective Quo, flared bright and zoomed up and out, all of them, as if shaking off some paralysis, and the Quo huffed and shuffled a little, bony knuckles dancing over console surfaces.
"Is that...it?" Jared asked, echoing the 'net, and Jensen looked up at the port, at the starfield shown there, and felt his heart jump, extra-hard beat knocking in his chest. The Giraffe system - dirty, crowded, immense, with its strange, there-not-there, gargantuan heart of a black hole - was gone. Instead, Salome swung in that view, a system both familiar and strangely alien, after so long. Salome was a distant, pink-hued dot, almost lost in the background scatter of planetoids and dust rings and the sullen glow of the system's bulging, red giant star, called Arcturus. Its companion - it was a binary system - was dimmer, its orbit currently putting it on the far side of the ecliptic, nearly invisible. As Jensen watched, the cameras zoomed in, refining the image, and now Jensen could see Salome itself, pink-grey and shrouded in rushing, twisting dust storms. And curled around her like the steel and glassine bones of giant fingers, the new, vast scaffold of the Company shipyards.
Beneath the curdled, curling rush of endless storms was Company headquarters. Sunk deep into the hidden crust of the planet itself were layers and layers of habitat; offices and medical wings, classrooms and dormitories, laboratories and hydroponics and training courses; kilometer after kilometer of featureless hallways. Somewhere in there had been added birthing suites, according to Kee; creches for the newly-born Angels. In the lowest, most protected levels, were the living quarters and offices of the highest ranks; Directors and Managers and all manner of suits, living in their own little private city, a paradise of cloned greenery and filtered water and clean, bright air.
Or so it was rumored - so it was whispered. No Angel had ever been there, that was for sure, and the Company closed ranks on any speculation about how they lived, how they were paid - what their rewards were. The Company - with its own rules, its own laws, its own security forces; practically its own government. And now its own citizens, or maybe slaves? Quasi-human, made and molded. Their own army, and no wonder the military and the United Stellar Federation had let them have free rein.
"So, what now?" Jared asked, and Jensen was wondering the same thing. The Quo wouldn't attack; had no weapons that Jensen was aware of. They had a plan, but nobody had explained it to any human. And it wouldn't take long for Salome - for the Company - to notice them. Even if the Company couldn't track iynght srahzss, something the size of the arcology, that had just punched a hole through billions of light years of space, was loud. They probably had about five minutes, tops, before all kinds of alarms would start going off.
Jensen could feel the rising excitement in the 'net; could feel the anticipation of a fight, of a mission; of Angels wanting to get back their own, to show the Company once and for all that they were not owned - that they were free.
The Matangi, Apsû, Seker, the Wu Zetian, Kanagatucko, and Hissa Hila were docked in a ring around the equator of the arcology. Now they powered up, one after the other, the Angels on board unlocking armor that had frozen into 'ready' position for the ride. They checked weapons, ordered themselves into squads and platoons, braced and ready and on. A mass run on the showers had gone down in the last hours in the Giraffe system; ArchANGELS that had signed up for armor and a ship chemically stripping away hair, re-dying skin, touching up tattoos.
Readying themselves for war.
Kee, in a half-tube now, freed of the breather, and a fine fuzz of grey-sprinkled curls growing over her skull, had been unceremoniously stood down by Doc before she'd even had time to say 'yes' or 'no' on her own, though it was obvious she couldn't do a damn thing outside the 'net. Sinna had just shaken her head, her own skull layered in fine, blue-black hair like feathers, long enough to touch her ears, now, wisps hanging down to the narrow, dark eyebrows that had grown in in gentle arcs.
The rest - some vets, like Suni, some greenies like Than - had also said no, showing, in the 'net, that they were simply...done. Too tired, or too damaged, or simply unwilling to fight again, kill again. Being on the arcology - free of the Company - had shown them they could do other things. Be other things. They were there - they were Angels. They always would be. But, Suni had said, his long, dark eyes grave and calm, his scarred hands resting gently on the shoulders of two greenies that sat at his feet, Some angels were teachers, or messengers, or makers. We don't have to fight, nutánqusosqews, nutánqus'. We can just be.
So just a little over three thousand were on the ships, with crews and troopers, too, drop-ships ready. And some that had stayed behind were in armor, as well, because they would defend, if the arcology was boarded, but nothing more. Jensen had agonized over it, but in the end, he'd decided to stay on the arcology, to be in command, even though it grated on him to abandon his Angels.
Not abandoned, stop that, it's good it's needed, ready-steady and we will go, we'll go, you lead us, need a head, need someone thinking Kane had thought, insistent, and others had taken it up, until Jensen had backed down, reluctantly.
He walked the few feet to the half-dozen Quo that were standing over their consoles, clicking and hissing and booming to each other. Shoumei was there, despite protests from other Quo, and Hakase. Taichou-san and Alinx were there, and Raleigh and Doc and Morgan. Jensen pushed into the loose circle, looking up at the Quo first, and then around, until bony Quo knuckles and human fingers stopped moving, and they were silent. Watching him.
"In about three minutes, they're gonna know we're here, if they don't already. The Company has their own militia, and it's probably all those...those new Angels, now. Those made...Angels. We need to launch the ships, and we need to- You need to tell me what your plan is. For if they attack." The fireflies hummed, blinking, spiraling up and then down again, lighting on their individual Quo, and Jensen braced one leg back a little, shoulders squared, consciously not clenching his fists.
He gazed up into Hakase's face, waiting.
"Su, su, su," Hakase said, and lifted their hands, a conciliatory sort of gesture. A translator firefly drifted down, blinking in slow, lavender pulses. "There has been detection of movement," Hakase said, and Jensen felt adrenaline like a shock go through him, jolting and hot. "There are ships coming in from system edge. There is skip generation. There is iynght srahzss."
"Wait. What do you-? Do you mean the Company can...can do that?" Jensen said, and fuck, his heart was pounding now, his hands shaking, and he struggled to damp it down, keep it out of the 'net. But he knew Jared was hearing, looming over Doc at the edge of the circle. Hearing and maybe not bothering to filter it.
Qemuel what report report from Kane, and Jinx, and Jensen took a hard breath in and shook his head slightly. Hell, he wasn't filtering, either.
Stand by wait not clear stand by
He looked around the circle but everyone, Quo and Human alike, were looking at Hakase, and Jensen braced himself for, oh fuck, the worst possible news.
"Hakase, is the Company going to use...that, that…yingt zrazs on us?" Jensen said, doing his best, but he saw Alinx wince ever so slightly over his mangling of the word.
"Nahht," Hakase said, and put heavy, bony hands on Jensen's shoulders, their fireflies swarming down their arms and circling around behind Jensen and then back up again, to hover over Hakase's shoulders. "Zhen...ssen. Nhoo. It is..." Hakase trilled a sound at a firefly and the translator one was back, hovering. "It is Uuhruus arcology come. They bring Chi'khs arcology come, and the-" The translator firefly made a sound that was like a string of clicks and coughs, nothing like the Quo language; more machine than organic.
"I don't- What-?"
"They mean Stick, yah?" Alinx said, and Jensen just stared at her, his mind going to static-nothing. Stick. Stick.
"Coming...here? Stick are-?"
"Jensen-"
"Wait, now-" Alinx and Doc spoke at the same moment, but whatever they were saying was lost, drowned in a surge of noise, a static bomb in his head that cleared, abruptly, at a startled, internal flinch from Jared.
"Battle stations battle stations, this is Command Actual, Stick incoming all hands brace and lock, all ships uncouple and go, scatter formation, Stick incoming," Go go go! Jensen felt the shockwave of his alert flash out, hitting the 'net like a bomb, racing to the very edges, the furthest possible reach. And then felt it hit, rebound, and surge back to him.
Excitement, dismay, anger, horror, terror, swamped him. But riding high on that, clear and precise, was Kane, Jinx, Lt. Trejos, Lt. Dee, so many others. Command, ship and battalion and platoon and squad. Deadly calm, battle focus coming online, ingrained and oh, so familiar.
"Acknowledged Command Actual, Stick incoming, we are a go, Hissa Hila is a go."
"Apsû is a go." Ship after ship, precise and perfect.
Right up the line, as if choreographed, as every Angel in every ship powered up, put weapons online, and hit their go-mark. Red hot but somehow calm, without the underlying, frenetic, skittery energy of a go-pack or ultrasounds. On, in, solid, ready-steady.
"Acknowledged, all stations, all personnel; stand ready for go, this is Command Actual, stand ready for go," Jensen said - sent - and he glanced up and saw Morgan, wide-eyed but calm, talking rapidly with Raleigh. Jared pushed past Doc and just reached - grabbed - yanked Jensen close and smothered him, for a moment, body and 'net alike.
"Jensen, fuck, oh..." Fuck fuck fuck, are we going to fight? Jensen-
"It's okay, you're okay, steady, honey, c'mon." Here home us all in all safe, Jared, us, we, all safe
"Fuck," Jared said, and then he stepped back, his arms sliding free of their death-grip around Jensen. He wiped the blade of his hand under his eyes, fast, and sniffed. "Fuck, I'm not- This is fucking scary shit, Jensen." His hazel eyes were huge, and Jensen could feel him, trying to tamp it all down and shove it away, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking as he smiled a thin, crooked smile.
Not a soldier, he always said. But not afraid, no. Just...not stupid.
"Yeah. But we got this. Ready-steady," Jensen said, and safe with us safe with me, always
Lights flashed, suddenly, on every console. A high, grating alarm went off, a string of rasping buzzes that made every Quo straighten up, heads lifting and long snouts curling up, frozen for a moment.
"Ships have uncoupled, all ships have uncoupled, arcology may destabilize momentarily," a translator firefly said, spinning in a tight spiral over their heads. Jensen braced, and so did Jared and every Angel left behind, and the arcology seemed to skip for a moment, weightless and then too heavy, and then it was back to normal, over in a heartbeat.
"Shit," someone said, and Jensen was pretty sure it was Alinx.
"Qemuel, you need to listen," Stand down, Angel Morgan said, and Jensen felt his lips lifting in a snarl, the 'net seething. Doc snorted, shoving between them and giving Morgan a look, and then putting her back to him, right up in Jensen's face.
"You need to listen a minute, Jensen. Don't be- Fuck's sake, don't start a damn fight out there. We knew; Quo knew the Stick would be here," Doc said, and it was like a sudden faceful of cold water, stinging shock.
"What the fuck, Doc? Morgan, fucking report, what the fucking hell?" Jensen said, and Morgan took Doc's shoulders in flesh and polycarbonate hands and gently turned her aside.
"Affirmative, they knew. The Company got Stick DNA, remember? They didn't get it with permission. They've been stealing DNA and tech from Stick for...fuck, almost two hundred years. They were our first contact. Why do you think we're fighting them?"
"Because...because Stick, they- The attacks, the...colonies, wiped out, they- They-" Jensen floundered, and Morgan was shaking his head, slow, his gaze direct and calm and infinitely, infinitely tired.
No. Sorry, I'm sorry. They told us...
And then the 'net was flooded with images, with history. History Jensen had never seen before, not like this. The Quo had showed the Diaboli, and Morgan, what the Company had done, years and years ago. First contact with Stick in a Company outpost, long before it had become what it was, when it was still a mining concern. Stick and humans both wary, curious but initially peaceful, until some misunderstanding, some far-flung variation in thought and process had triggered a confrontation.
And then deaths, the Stick reacting with a ferocity unimagined, and the Company outpost left in a shambles, with few survivors; the Stick cohort withdrawing. But from that wreckage had come samples, bits of tech, an idea.
The Company had mutated and changed and grown, and they had acquired Salome and built their buried labs, and experimented. Every tiny step forward had been skewed toward profit, toward acquisition, toward control. The ANGEL system, the military contracts, ArchANGELS...on and on and on.
But they needed more, always more. They ran out of cell lines, out of tech, out of workable leads, and so they manufactured attacks and outrages, they stirred up hate, they programmed their soldiers and crews to obey, to fight, to kill. To have no mercy.
They sent troops and ArchANGELS on mission after mission, attack after attack. Hounding the Stick, who fought back with unflinching ferocity, the Company had killed hundreds - thousands - without thought. They found the Glorianna and they mined her DNA and gene banks for more indentured workers, for more ANGELS. They created monsters, and they didn't care.
All in the pursuit of money, and power, and control. All for the sake of greed, for dominion. All for themselves. They culled their ranks without thought; coerced and threatened and murdered and stole, lives and souls.
All of it poured out, through the 'net, like fire and acid and hammer-blows, and Jensen could feel the Angels reeling under the assault; could feel Jared's arm around his shoulders, long fingers digging into Jensen's bicep, his breath gusting hot and damp over Jensen's throat. And the 'net screamed.
Killed us they killed us they made us to kill us corrupted us used us animals to them not human nothing used us hurt us kill them kill them kill them
"Jenss-sen, fuck," Jared said, breathless and shaking, the 'net dinning in their brains, so many voices, so much emotion; more and louder and more until it was a feedback snarl, static whiteout, overload.
Something boomed and hissed over the Quo coms, and a firefly bobbed up nearly in Jensen's face, pulsing pink-yellow. "Ship's weapons are live online, ship's weapons are live online, query orders, query next, query protocol."
"Shit, Jensen-"
"Stand the fuck down-" Morgan and Doc together, and Alinx muttering in some other language than English, fingers flying over her console.
Hakase shuffled forward a step, and Shoumei did too, and then all of the Quo, coming up close and reaching out, arms linking, shoulders brushing. And then...noise. Humming, infrasonic, subsonic, ultrasonic; thrumming, throbbing, sinking into Jensen's bones. It was deafening and almost painful, pulsing through him, and Jared curled tighter into him, making a small, shocked noise.
The sound dipped down lower, impossibly basso, and higher at the same time, a whine that went to something thin and ringing, hitting every spot in Jensen's brain that was used to it, that had needed it, once upon a time. It flooded his system with endorphins, adrenaline, pleasure; fuck, it was like being petted from the inside out, it was like being fucked, it was like being hugged. Jensen was aware, dimly, that his knees were buckling and his brain was fuzzing; that the others - other humans - were reacting, as well. And the 'net was hushing, smoothing down, going still, going so very quiet. Soporific waves, a not-quite-tangible touch that rippled through and through them until suddenly, it was gone.
Jensen blinked, then lifted his head, looking up (on his knees, fuck), Jared beside him, both of them breathing hard. He felt so damn relaxed, warm, loose in his skin. The Quo had backed off a bit, not looming over them now, and the humans were shaking their heads, Alinx with her eyes squinted shut, her assistant curled down over his consoles, fist against his ear. So - not good for regular people, either.
Hakase murmured something, too loud, and Jensen flinched.
"Apologies," a firefly piped, and Jensen tried to focus on it. "We could not let there be violence. We could not allow blood spilled," it said, and Jensen looked past it, at Hakase's long, solemn face, hovering so far above him.
"You can't...can't just-"
"It was incorrect,", Hakase said, and sighed, shuffling a little on wide, clawed feet. "It is not correct, coerce or control. But we needed a moment, so that you could be without emotion."
"Don't think that's possible," Jared said, and all at once he was on his feet, heaving his long limbs upright, pushing himself into Hakase's face. "Don't do that, that's just like the fucking Company. That's...that's fucking wrong."
"We are sorrow, Jared. But please to listen. All of you must listen."
Jensen became aware, slowly, of the 'net waking up, of confused queries coming in from the ship, from Kane, from the rest. All of them, coming up out of the stupor of pleasure and warmth, too. Jensen telegraphed intent, and Jared turned around and held out his hand, pulling, strong and steady, until Jensen was up on his feet next to him, keeping Jared's hand in his.
"The whole-? Did you broadcast that? To all the ships, to...everyone?"
"To Aaahn-guls, su, su, su," Hakase said. The other Quo had shifted back a little, but Hakase was still much too close, looming over them both, heat and their distinctive scent in Jensen's nose. "You must listen well all."
"Don't do that," Jensen said, still dazed, and a moment later he was reeling again as Kane's thoughts cut through the fog, as narrow a communication as possible in the 'net.
Alert, alert, alert, movement, power up
"Command Actual, we have ships going live, repeat, ships going live at Salome. It looks like...three, four...six Annihilation-class ships are in undock from the shipyards."
"Acknowledged, Command One." Jensen could feel Jared like a tightly-wound spring next to him, quivering with the need to move, go, do. His own heart was pounding again, shaking off the last of what Hakase had done to them, the heat of his blood burning off the fog. The Quo's consoles, and Alinx', were making noise, flashing lights; seeing what Kane was seeing, Jensen was sure.
"They've got ships, ships like Annihilation, they're on the move," Jensen said, and Hakase bobbed slowly, long nose tucking down and curling under, just a little. The firefly pulsed between them, humming.
"We know this. They must also listen."
"They're not going to listen! They don't care-"
"Armaments are live! Command Actual, armaments are live on Company ships," Kane said, his voice clipped and hard, eager.
"Battle stations, battle stations, bring up armaments, go live, we have incoming unfriendlies, we have Stick at system edge, friendlies at system edge, Quo arcologies, go live, prepare for maneuvers, lock down steady, ready, go on my command!"
"Acknowledged." Acknowledged...acknowledged...acknowledged, echoing in the 'net from the ships, from the Angels on board in arms and armor, racing to key points, locking down and bracing for whatever would come next. Suni, and his greenies, and the rest who were not in the fight were in quarters, with Sinna and Kee, gathering close, hands and arms wrapped around each other; protective, anxious, sad.
Acknowledged and ready, Suni sent, and Jensen sent them all love you us me we all mine, family, all, we will win we will win, fierce, furious, all-encompassing. He turned to Hakase, to Alinx and Morgan, anger, fear, and fight fight fight all twisting in his chest. A tightly wound spring, shivering with tension, that would explode at a touch.
"I need to be on the Hissa Hila. I need to get out there now," he said, and Hakase made a mournful sort of noise, fireflies spiraling up and around.
"Zheeeen...sen -"
"No, Hakase. I understand that you don't want...violence. But if I'm not out there, if I'm not with them, it's going to be violent. It's going to be slaughter. Get me out there." Jensen felt like he couldn't quite get a full breath, a band constricting his chest, his lungs refusing to expand. He could feel his heart pounding against this ribs and every instinct in him was screaming to go, to move, to fight defend go go go.
He forced himself to stand still, to see the Quo, and the arcology Diaboli. To feel Jared just behind him, the solid press of Jared's hand to Jensen's back, the heat of him. He had other choices, he had other ways. He had his Angels, and the Quo, and the Diaboli; his actions were his own, and he was not - they were not - the animals the Company had tried to make them.
"I don't want- I won't shoot first, I won't let us shoot first. I want to fix this without fighting, Hakase. I do. But I have to be there. These are my Angels, this is- It's their lives, and everything the Company did to them, all the ways they twisted them. I have to be there."
Hakase swayed in place, their fireflies pulsing, fluttering up and around, up and around. They made a low, rumbling hum, shivering through Jensen's bones, through the 'net. Shoumei joined them, and the other Quo, the fireflies all blinking, blinking, blinking, pale and then brighter, over and over.
"Su, su, su," Hakase said, finally, and put one heavy, bony hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Zhen-ssen," Hakase said, and then lapsed into Quo, a firefly darting up between them, translating. "It was against belief, to...cajole you. We are sorrow. You must to your ship.". "Su, su, su." Hakase lifted their hand away and turned a little, saying something the firefly didn't translate, and Alinx' console chimed.
"There's a skimmer, yah?" she said, and looked up, making a small, breathy sound toward the fireflies. One darted over and Alinx' console chimed at it. The firefly blinked, flared bright green, and then settled, pulsing slightly. "Follow this one, yah? Take you to the Hissa Hila. Go now."
Jensen ducked his head in a nod and turned to Jared; got a fist into Jared's shirt and pulled him into a brief, hard kiss, have to go stay stay safe need you safe coming back love you love
"Go, go love you with you go go go," Jared said, and Jensen turned and ran.
It was like a slow-motion nightmare, to watch the ships. Jared shifted on his feet, staring over Suni's shoulder at the console, and the holo projection of the system. He'd had to come down, to be with the others; couldn't stand another moment on his own in coms. Morgan had come, too, easing into the room and then being enfolded, no different, and Jared had felt a release of some tiny, brittle tension in the 'net at that.
But now, all he could do was stare at the specks that moved, bright light, in the air. The Angel ships were a glowing blue, 'their' Quo a slightly greener shade of the same color. Salome was pinkish-red, and the ships lifting from the shipyard were a brighter, bloodier hue.
The Stick ships were vivid purple, and the other two Quo arcologies an amber-green. And all of them were moving, in a stately sort of dance, together. Converging on a location that was almost midway between them and Salome, and a cascade of numbers and code fell steadily down the side of the display, almost too fast to read.
Armaments, engines, heat signatures, angle, vector, velocity
The information came to Jared through the filter of the Angels, letting him see the data as they saw it; the speed of incoming targets, possible and probable courses laid down in layers, constantly updating with data that was already minutes old. Possible fire vectors were plotted, overlapping, blinking out and retracing, and Jared…
Jared felt so damn, fucking helpless. He wasn't an Angel, he wasn't a soldier. Never had been, not for the Diaboli, not for the Company. The cool, logical plotting of the deaths of thousands made him feel faintly sick and absolutely horrified. But then a wave of excitement would hit; anticipation, a feral, exulting glee that felt...good.
Enemy end them not us outsider Company take them down out kill them all end it end it
Jensen would push in over that, urging calm, ording no, his own desire to see Salome a smoking ruin hobbled by the knowledge that there were millions of civilians there; kids, some of them, who'd won the lottery, who'd gotten lucky, been chosen, special.
Who were even now being wrapped and twisted and tied in strings of virus and DNA, chromosome chains. Jared shivered, pressing in closer to Suni, to Sinna. Head down and eyes closed, he pushed his own first year or two at Salome into the 'net, showing them, letting them know. Too much to lose, can't hurt them, innocent, they're innocent
And Kee was there, too, with memories of her Angels; deliberately made warped and unable, forever hobbled. But still there, for her, in the 'net - still beings of emotion and need, however blunted. They, too, were innocent, and not even given the status of human, or individual. Just Company wind-up toys, discarded on a whim.
Have to stop it, help them, part of us, us, us Jared thought, and Kee agreed, though Kee, too, wanted Salome gone, obliterated.
"Huuuh," someone said, a startled sort of hum, and a flicker ran through the 'net, making Jared lift his head sharply, looking. The Annihilator class ships had gone from a scarlet to an almost incandescent blood-red, and a new set of numbers had popped up next to them, spooling out white.
"What?" Jared said, and Sunni lifted his hand, fingertip ghosting through the numbers.
"They're powering up something big. Looks like-" Nukes, plasma-bomb, something, something…
"Oh fuck, oh, no." Jensen, get out of there
We see we know safe safe came back, distracted, and Jared watched as new lines traced over the screen, new possibilities. The Stick ships suddenly moved, faster than the Company ships, driving forward and then arcing up, down - subjective up and down - diving for the Company ships.
Shit, fuck, no! "Quo! Hakase! Tell them stop, tell them to just stop, no firing, tell the Stick to back the hell off!" Jensen said, his voice thin and a little distorted through coms.
"Su, su, su," came back, and then something else. Stick language, trills and clicks and coughing grinds. Some kind of announcement, or warning, Jared hoped. Then Quo language, then Stick again, and finally Human, a translator firefly, over the arcology coms.
"All ships all stop, not to engage, all ships all stop, allies all, T'ssmg'ku, Uuhruus, Chi'khs, human ships - allies all, speak all." The incomprehensible Stick name was in there, too, grating, and Jared found himself leaning forward, as if getting closer to the display would somehow affect what was happening.
Three minute delay on all comms, stand by, stand by, from Jensen, and they waited, silent, while the Quo message flew across light years, and the Stick ships...kept moving.
"Come on, come on, stop, just stop," Jared muttered, and a hand - Than's - insinuated into his, clutching tight. Jared clung back, his heart thumping in his chest hard enough to feel, fluttering in his throat. He felt sick, he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin.
What happened next was...chaos. It happened so fast, and was over so quickly, Jared wasn't one hundred percent sure what he'd seen. One moment, the ships were moving, following plotted traces, deadly but still stoppable. The next moment, a sudden blooms of mercury-white appeared, one, two, threefour, and ships…ships were…
Expanding clouds, scattered pieces. One Stick ship, one Angel ship, simply gone. Two more burning dots were static, churning and boiling and motionless, and then two of the seven remaining Stick ships dove, and one of the Annihilation class ships was hit, a deadly arrow gone to a cloud of gas and debris, tumbling remains. Another was hit but mostly whole, crippled but still firing, and a Stick ship slewed around, showing damage, a steady bleed of power and forward momentum.
The 'net seemed to go dead for one long moment, and then it crashed down on them like a wave, like a fist. The dead and the dying, in the 'net; last moments, last impulses, voices crying out, shock and horror and pain and then nothing.
Aching silence where they were no more, just the numb pulse of a severed limb. Jared groaned, going to his knees, and around him others went down; greenies and seniors alike, some of the kids gagging, clawing away, others curling into shaking, crying balls.
Stop them stop it please, Jensen, make them stop
"Hakase, fucking tell them stop, cease fire, cease fire, this is Command Actual, cease fucking fire, disengage, disengage, move, go, now!" from Jensen, his voice a whiplash through the distortion.
Quo language boomed out, loud, so full of ultra and infra sounds that Jared thought he was going to lose consciousness; vision going to a tunnel, spangles and stars, black rushing in. Than's hand gripped down on Jared's, bruising-hard, and the lance of pain cleared Jared's head for a moment, allowing him to look up, eyes watering, at the holo.
A line arced out from a Stick ship, so fast it was hard to follow, and then Salome was blooming outward in the holo, an eruption of atmo and fire and debris, something on the surface hit and destroyed and the plume of it went up and up, out of Salome's thin atmosphere, into space. The Angel ships were arching away; the Stick ships were still coming, the Company ships driving hard away from Salome, wedge formation, headed for the Stick.
"Hakase"! Jensen roared, and the air seemed to...to… Jared didn't know what was happening. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, and for one long, horrible, chest-burning moment, he couldn't breathe. Light bloomed across the holo, whiting everything out, expanding, burning, taking the air apart to atoms, to molecules, to nothing; the universe gone and there in the same breath, a weight so heavy Jared could feel his bones creak.
And then it was gone, over, done, and the quarters seemed lightless by comparison. Jared couldn't hear anything but the roar of his own breathing; the thump of his heart. Gradually, by increments, light, and sound came back, a steady climb from nothing to the warm, amber-green-pink of the quarters, and the steady, cool blue of Kee's modified generation tube. Than's fingers opened with a shaky little spasm, and Jared hissed as blood rushed back to the starved tissues.
Sorry, sorry Than thought, distracted, and Jared pushed himself upright from the tight-curled lump he'd been a moment before, heart fluttering, fluttering, fluttering in his chest, his breathing shocky-fast and too shallow. Patting Than on the shoulder, distracted, he tried to make sense of what was on the holo.
What? What did-? "Oh, God," Jared said, as the holos fuzzed and cleared and steadied, and the system came back online, stars and ships and the arcology popping back up on the display.
"What did-? Where is it? Wh-where's Salome?" Jensen, oh God, is it gone? Where is it?
Where Salome had been was...nothing. A little clutter of debris churned like wake in the gaping hole left behind.
"Report, all ships, fucking check in, status, damnit! Tell me where the damn Stick are," Jensen snarled, curled down around the pain of losing that ship - those lives. Who was it, who was hit, who who who
Klaxons and alarms were blaring through the ships. Jensen was getting them in coms, in person, and in the 'net, and he felt like he was about five seconds from losing it. The harness holding him into the observer-post seat was cutting into his shoulders (Captain Onray had offered her seat, but hell if Jensen was going to usurp her, he just needed to be here), and his head was swimming from what-the-fuck-ever had just happened.
"Quemel, fuck-" Look, look from Kane, over at the arms-prime board, braced in his armor and looking wildly at screens and holos.
"Report, damnit! What ship did we lose, what happened?" Jensen said. Then his eyes finally focussed, the tunnel of his vision flattening out and he could see the display, the system - the ships - and the hole where Salome was not.
"It's gone. It's just...it's gone, Salome is- Let me see the, yeah- Fuck!" Kane's armored fingers tapped something on a console, another Angel leaning out of his way. All around them, the bridge of the Hissa Hila was frozen, shock making reaches for boards and floating consoles abortive, shaky, incomplete. The alarms howled, and lights were blinking, strobing, shattering over them.
Jensen felt a sharp, horrified jolt of emotion from Jared and he shook his head once, sharply, as if throwing off water; breaking the paralysis.
"Get me Hakase," he said to the com-prime, in what felt like a damn steady voice, and she blinked at him for a long second and then turned to the board, hitting a holo-key, doing her job, steadying down as Jensen did. He poured that steadiness into the 'net; enfolded her in a brief, powerful burst of love and admiration and then sent it out, hard. Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen could see com-prime blink again, and smile, push a strand of hair back off her forehead and then steady down all the way, focused - good. Captain Onray, away to Jensen's right, was leaning into her consoles, keying alarms off, silencing the klaxon, getting the bridge crew moving, thinking again. Calm rippled out, from her and Jensen and com-prime, going out and out.
Good, we're good, ready-steady, my Angels
"It was the Kanagatucko, Jensen," Captain Onray said, a low voice just for his ears, and Jensen acknowledged with scant nod, the hurt in the 'net still throbbing.
"Zhhen..sen. Su, su, su," Hakase said, and Jensen breathed in, long, and then out.
"Hakase. Where-? What happened to Salome?"
"Iynght srahzss, Zhenssen. Uuhruus, Chi'khs, they make go..." There was a moment's pause, and then a firefly piped up instead, the voice higher, softer. "We take Salome and go, go to safe, go to M'mtss. Too much damage, too much hurt, needed them to be safe."
"You took...you took a whole...a whole fucking planet back to...to the Giraffe." A planet. An entire planet, and the shipyards, just...poofed away, moved millions of light-years. "Did it-? How is that possible? And what-? I mean, the system, how will that-?"
They're safe? Are they safe? They're not dead, it's not gone, they didn't...didn't blow them all up, they're safe, they're safe A rising, relieved, heading-toward-slightly-hysterical tide from Jared, from Sunni and Sinna and Kee, from the Angels left behind and, faster and faster, the Angels on the ships.
Ships, hell.
"Sariel, what are the Stick doing? And the Company ships? Hakase, we've got to- They'll surrender, they have to, we need-"
"Su, su, su,", Hakase said, rumbling over coms, and Jensen could see the huge, hunched figure in his mind's eye, the down-curved, mobile snout and dark, dark eyes and the bright, light swirl of fireflies all about; links and data and memory, in pastel little gleams. "You can make for peace, Zhenssen. You are fit for peace. We will help. All help, all safe, all, all."
All us all here home safe us us we you me, Jared thought, and Kane, and Jinx; all of them, a spiraling thread of amber-pink emotion, warm and soft and full of love. All of them - all of them - together, safe...home.
"Okay," Jensen said, softly. And then he straightened up in his chair and gave a nod to the pilot - Company drop-ship crew, promoted, proud, fledgling Angel, his. "Captain Onray, contact the Company ships, sue for their surrender. Tell them...about Salome. Tell them… Hell, zip up our damn story out of archive and send it out, broadcast. Get the Quo to put a translator file on there for the Stick. Tell them full stop and just...wait." Captain Onray nodded and started working, fingers flying, mouth moving as she spoke quietly into a mic, getting the job done.
"Hakase, explain to the Stick, tell the Company ships about Salome, too, just...hit 'em with everything we got. Slow 'em down before anybody starts firing again."
"Su, su, su. You tell, all, Zhenssen. Sssa-ome, they hear, listen."
Something crackled and then clicked, a sharp, echoing pop, and a voice came over coms, too-young, scared sounding, trying to be brave. Jensen could hear, faintly, alarms in the background, klaxons and shrill beepings; fire, damage, calamity, help.
"This is Salome Central Command to...to unknown...entities. We- Where-? What happened? I don't- Please identify."
Poor damn kid. Sounded like they'd come in the middle of third shift, some junior officer scrambling while actual authority was alerted. Grabbed by unknown beings, whisked millions of light-years away, and trying to cope with an attack on top of it all, with who knew what casualties, what damage..
"Salome Central Command, this is Jensen AR. You’re- Hell, you're alright, you hear?"
"We took damage, there was a strike from orbit. I don't- This is not our system, J-Jensen."
"No, it's not. It's...it's-" The information came via the 'net, via Morgan, and Jensen sent back a grateful, mental hug. "Galaxy cluster MS 0735.6+7421. Use your library, we know it. Listen, you're safe. The Quo are going to help; they're allies, I promise. Hold and wait for a data burst, you hear?"
"The...Quo? Acknowledged," the kid said, after a long moment, and Jensen could only imagine the panic and desperation at Salome. He felt a sudden surge of rage at the thought of the Company trying to fuck the Quo around, and tamped it down, hard. The Quo could fend for themselves. The Company's teeth had been pulled, mostly, with the loss of their ships and the sudden introduction into a brand new system, a brand new everything.
How are they stabilizing the planet, are they putting them in orbit? How do they get a transmission that far? How-? What-? Jared, and the rest of the 'net were a babble of confusion and speculation, and Jensen hushed them, Jinx and Kane with him, forcing calm. They needed to be damn calm. On the holo, the Stick ships were forming up, closer than Jensen would like, but at least not showing active launches. Angels were moving in for salvage and rescue, and the Company ships seemed...stalled out. Confused, but listening. Com-prime sent a signal to Jensen's console, showing the transmission of all their data, all their archive, everything. Ready to go. Jensen reached out, hit the key, and sent it.
"Com-prime, all ships, and Salome, too." Com-prime nodded, and Jensen took a long, deep breath in.
Love you, Jared, love you, us we me you all, love you all, all
'This is...Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL Command Actual aboard the…" Jensen paused, heart pounding and then soaring, when it came to him, exactly what to say, to make them understand. It hit the 'net and came back to him with a roar of pure approval. "...aboard the Independent Angel Starship Hissa Hila. Please scan and acknowledge our data transmission; that is the sum total of our archive, detailing how we came to mutiny from the Company, cure their cancers in the 'net, and find the Quo. We are calling for your surrender as allies, not prisoners, and we assure you that Salome and all those living down-well and in the shipyards are alive and well and in the care of the Quo, who are our allies."
Something else in the 'net, Kane and then Morgan, and Jensen was smiling, smiling so hard his eyes were stinging, just a little.
"I repeat - this is Commander Jensen AR, call sign Qemuel, ArchANGEL Command Actual aboard the Independent Angel Starship Hissa Hila, and we're coming to take you home, Angels. We're coming to take you home."
Part twenty-seven.
Originally entered at https://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/201627.html - comment where you please!