Blogathon post #48: Last bit of Xenonovel!
Finishing up this scene. Didn't get nearly as far in the story as I'd hoped, but, well, I'm a fucking wordy bitch.
"Caspace," Virgil says, strolling further into the lab. "Still herding sheep?"
"Hmph." Shion's never seen Caspace on edge like this. Virgil marches up to the other side of the sleeping Realian's maintenance bed, leans extravagantly on the edge of it with a heavy clunk. Up-close, Shion can see shadows under his eyes and harsh, scaly scars striping his face. He's wheat-blond with watery blue-green eyes, strong features, a cruel twist to his lip. He gives Shion a piercing look, then bends low over the sleeping Realian, and she hears him draw a deep, deep breath.
"That stench," he murmurs.
"What?" Shion blurts.
"They reek, you know." He raises his head with a tight smile. "I can't get their rotten odor out of my system. What, you can't smell it?" He rounds the bed, gets a little too close for comfort. "It makes me sick to my stomach."
"What are you--"
"That's enough," Caspace snaps. "You got your orders from the Lieutenant Commander, didn't you? One of the goals of this operation is to enhance combat support between your A.G.W.S. units and the new Realian models. And yet you're--"
"Support?" Virgil laughs, short and mocking. "In a battle against those things, the last thing I want to deal with is a batch of untested, weapons-grade Realians."
"Excuse me," Shion puts in, "but these people are highly-qualified soldiers, born and raised as such--"
"These people? You're treating equipment like people?" Virgil's pacing the lab like a caged animal now.
"If you have to go around saying things like that, at least have the manners to not do it here," Shion says, halfway between annoyance and outright anger. "These people have the same intellect and emotions as us. I was just reading their brain scans, I'd know! And the Miltian Charter clearly spelled out the basic human rights of Realians when it was ratified in '63--"
"Get off your soapbox and stop giving me this load of crap, little girl," Virgil snarls. "You act noble and preach about their humanity, but in the end, they're just equipment as far as your company is concerned." They're practically circling each other by now, and Shion's near the little 100-Series' bed. To her surprise, she feels a small gloved hand wrapping around her own, and looks down to see the little Realian hiding behind her. "Equipment, or merchandise."
"We don't treat them anything like equipment or merchandise!" Shion snaps.
"Then why categorize them as weapons-grade Realians? Just like weapons-grade plutonium? What more evidence do you need than that? No matter what you feel like calling them, they're still just what they are. Tools of warfare." He strolls closer to her, leering. "Besides, I know your little secret." His heavy hand lands on her shoulder, and the only thing keeping her from darting out of his way is the small trembling body behind her. "You people have an emergency override to control them, don't you?" he murmurs in his ear, like it's some filthy nothing.
Shion gasps and jerks back from him; the 100-Series clutches her hand tighter.
"Virgil!" Caspace bellows. "Why are you--"
He's cut off by Alex stepping calmly in front of him.
"Huh?" Virgil looks the Realian up and down. "Wh-what do you want?"
"It is as you say, Sir," Alex says blandly. "We are manufactured as merchandise and raised accordingly. However, I take great pride in what I do now. And this pride was not forced upon me. It is of my own free will."
Shion hears a soft gasp from behind her.
Virgil stares hollowly at Alex for one long moment, sullen rage on his face, and then he chokes, doubles over, drops to one knee, clutching his chest. He laughs, soft and ragged. "Free will, huh?" He looks slowly up at Alex. "Well, good luck with that, sucker. Enjoy it when you can, because soon you'll realize what's really going on here. Just you wait." And then he turns on his heel and paces out of the lab, leaving stunned and awkward silence in his wake.
Shion swallows her disgust as best as she can. "Is he," she asks hesitantly, "a DME addict?" The scaly patches on his skin, the spasms of pain...she turns and hugs the 100-Series, quick and tight, though the girl's obviously bewildered.
Caspace says nothing, but his silence speaks volumes.
"If you ask me," Shion says softly, "people like him should be kept far away from all Realians. Like a restraining order. They should've written that into the Charter."
DME addiction--physical dependency upon the ingestion of Realian nervous tissue. That stench of Realians is the siren smell of his favorite drug.
"My apologizes, Ms. Uzuki," Caspace says after a long moment. "He...wasn't always like that. But something happened."
"Is he an old acquaintance?"
"We were classmates at the military academy, and I've been stuck with him since then. It...I'm not sure exactly what happened. But it was on Miltia." His voice drops, dark and hollow. The voice of a war veteran speak of the battlefield that broke him.
"I see," Shion whispers. "So that's why he's so..."
"You know about what happened on Miltia?" Caspace eyes her with wary respect. "I suppose anyone planning to join the Third Division would know..."
"Well." She shakes her head, then looks up, forcing the pain off her face. "I'm from Miltia."
"Oh," he breathes.
"Of course, nobody's allowed to go there anymore." She paces, not quite able to face him. "My family moved to Second Miltia when they transferred the capital after the war. And my brother still lives there."
"I see," Caspace says quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring back painful memories."
Shion shakes her head firmly. "It's not your fault. And it's something we must never forget." She turns, looks over at Alex where he stands next to his maintenance bed, visibly relaxed with Virgil gone. At the 100-Series, who'd slipped back to her corner. "For our sake, and for theirs as well."
Her connection gear beeps loudly.
"Oh, hold on, I--oh, no! I have to report to the bridge! Sorry! I'll be back to check on you all later." And then she bolts for the bridge. At least she has the data now.
This post is part of Letterblade's Blogathon 2010 madness, to raise money for Heifer Project International. Please go here to pledge your support.
"Caspace," Virgil says, strolling further into the lab. "Still herding sheep?"
"Hmph." Shion's never seen Caspace on edge like this. Virgil marches up to the other side of the sleeping Realian's maintenance bed, leans extravagantly on the edge of it with a heavy clunk. Up-close, Shion can see shadows under his eyes and harsh, scaly scars striping his face. He's wheat-blond with watery blue-green eyes, strong features, a cruel twist to his lip. He gives Shion a piercing look, then bends low over the sleeping Realian, and she hears him draw a deep, deep breath.
"That stench," he murmurs.
"What?" Shion blurts.
"They reek, you know." He raises his head with a tight smile. "I can't get their rotten odor out of my system. What, you can't smell it?" He rounds the bed, gets a little too close for comfort. "It makes me sick to my stomach."
"What are you--"
"That's enough," Caspace snaps. "You got your orders from the Lieutenant Commander, didn't you? One of the goals of this operation is to enhance combat support between your A.G.W.S. units and the new Realian models. And yet you're--"
"Support?" Virgil laughs, short and mocking. "In a battle against those things, the last thing I want to deal with is a batch of untested, weapons-grade Realians."
"Excuse me," Shion puts in, "but these people are highly-qualified soldiers, born and raised as such--"
"These people? You're treating equipment like people?" Virgil's pacing the lab like a caged animal now.
"If you have to go around saying things like that, at least have the manners to not do it here," Shion says, halfway between annoyance and outright anger. "These people have the same intellect and emotions as us. I was just reading their brain scans, I'd know! And the Miltian Charter clearly spelled out the basic human rights of Realians when it was ratified in '63--"
"Get off your soapbox and stop giving me this load of crap, little girl," Virgil snarls. "You act noble and preach about their humanity, but in the end, they're just equipment as far as your company is concerned." They're practically circling each other by now, and Shion's near the little 100-Series' bed. To her surprise, she feels a small gloved hand wrapping around her own, and looks down to see the little Realian hiding behind her. "Equipment, or merchandise."
"We don't treat them anything like equipment or merchandise!" Shion snaps.
"Then why categorize them as weapons-grade Realians? Just like weapons-grade plutonium? What more evidence do you need than that? No matter what you feel like calling them, they're still just what they are. Tools of warfare." He strolls closer to her, leering. "Besides, I know your little secret." His heavy hand lands on her shoulder, and the only thing keeping her from darting out of his way is the small trembling body behind her. "You people have an emergency override to control them, don't you?" he murmurs in his ear, like it's some filthy nothing.
Shion gasps and jerks back from him; the 100-Series clutches her hand tighter.
"Virgil!" Caspace bellows. "Why are you--"
He's cut off by Alex stepping calmly in front of him.
"Huh?" Virgil looks the Realian up and down. "Wh-what do you want?"
"It is as you say, Sir," Alex says blandly. "We are manufactured as merchandise and raised accordingly. However, I take great pride in what I do now. And this pride was not forced upon me. It is of my own free will."
Shion hears a soft gasp from behind her.
Virgil stares hollowly at Alex for one long moment, sullen rage on his face, and then he chokes, doubles over, drops to one knee, clutching his chest. He laughs, soft and ragged. "Free will, huh?" He looks slowly up at Alex. "Well, good luck with that, sucker. Enjoy it when you can, because soon you'll realize what's really going on here. Just you wait." And then he turns on his heel and paces out of the lab, leaving stunned and awkward silence in his wake.
Shion swallows her disgust as best as she can. "Is he," she asks hesitantly, "a DME addict?" The scaly patches on his skin, the spasms of pain...she turns and hugs the 100-Series, quick and tight, though the girl's obviously bewildered.
Caspace says nothing, but his silence speaks volumes.
"If you ask me," Shion says softly, "people like him should be kept far away from all Realians. Like a restraining order. They should've written that into the Charter."
DME addiction--physical dependency upon the ingestion of Realian nervous tissue. That stench of Realians is the siren smell of his favorite drug.
"My apologizes, Ms. Uzuki," Caspace says after a long moment. "He...wasn't always like that. But something happened."
"Is he an old acquaintance?"
"We were classmates at the military academy, and I've been stuck with him since then. It...I'm not sure exactly what happened. But it was on Miltia." His voice drops, dark and hollow. The voice of a war veteran speak of the battlefield that broke him.
"I see," Shion whispers. "So that's why he's so..."
"You know about what happened on Miltia?" Caspace eyes her with wary respect. "I suppose anyone planning to join the Third Division would know..."
"Well." She shakes her head, then looks up, forcing the pain off her face. "I'm from Miltia."
"Oh," he breathes.
"Of course, nobody's allowed to go there anymore." She paces, not quite able to face him. "My family moved to Second Miltia when they transferred the capital after the war. And my brother still lives there."
"I see," Caspace says quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring back painful memories."
Shion shakes her head firmly. "It's not your fault. And it's something we must never forget." She turns, looks over at Alex where he stands next to his maintenance bed, visibly relaxed with Virgil gone. At the 100-Series, who'd slipped back to her corner. "For our sake, and for theirs as well."
Her connection gear beeps loudly.
"Oh, hold on, I--oh, no! I have to report to the bridge! Sorry! I'll be back to check on you all later." And then she bolts for the bridge. At least she has the data now.
This post is part of Letterblade's Blogathon 2010 madness, to raise money for Heifer Project International. Please go here to pledge your support.