Fic: Merlin/Firefly; Avalon (Part 2); R; Reel Merlin (Round 2)
Master Post
part 1
“I’m telling you, Will,” Merlin said urgently, his tone hushed, “she knew there was something wrong before I did. No one knows Avalon better than me. You know that, and I can tell when something’s going tits up. But she just walked in there and she knew. And I could have sworn when we started out that she knew as much about engines as her brother does - which isn’t very much.”
Will looked at him thoughtfully before shrugging.
“It doesn’t matter, Merlin. So she’s a little… odd, probably a Sensitive. But we don’t pry into their business and they won’t pry into ours.” He paused, giving his mechanic, and friend, a significant look. “And we don’t want them prying into our business. You know we don’t.”
“I’m just saying if the girl’s a reader then she’s stronger than any I’ve come across before,” Merlin said holding his hands up.
“They’re paying for passage, and they’re not being any trouble,” Will reminded him, “well, at least none I can’t handle.”
“Arthur’s not that bad,” Merlin argued.
“He’s an andéaw dóc10, Merlin,” the Captain said with an edge of finality. “Never done a day of hard work in his life.”
“Or hard crime?” asked Merlin, raising his eyebrows, going over the lines of a well-worn argument. Will sighed heavily, giving him a look that clearly said he would not accept that level of insolence from any other member of the crew.
“I take whatever jobs I can to keep us alive. Sometimes they don’t involve us staying entirely on the right side of the law. At least they mean we can eat - and we’re still flying. There’s nothing more important than that.”
“I know.”
“The minute the girl or her brother makes trouble for us, they’re off this ship, Merlin. I’m not going to endanger the lives of my crew just so some stuck up rich kid can play ‘how the other half lives’ with his sister.”
“I was just saying that… maybe they’re not out here for thrills.” Merlin played idly with a spanner he had tucked into his pocket, no longer smiling. “You know that life on the central planets is tough for someone with… talents.” Will eyed him for a moment before replying with forced jollity.
“And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that you like to stare at her brother’s arse?” Merlin rolled his eyes.
“Any attraction I have for Arthur is more than balanced out by how much of an obnoxious git he is.”
“Glad to hear it,” Will said, turning to head up the walk way to the bridge. “Now, no more bleeding heart stories. They’re paying passengers and that’s an end of it, ácnæwest11?”
“Yes,” Merlin said reluctantly.
As Merlin was about to walk away, Lancelot popped his head out of the bridge and called to them.
“Sir, the Dragon’s on the line about that ship, the one yesterday,” he said. “You might want to hear this.”
Both Merlin and Will headed up to the bridge, jumping up the small stair case that led into it. When they arrived Gwen was sitting in her customary place at the controls, Lancelot at her side with one hand lightly on her shoulder, and they were talking to a man on the screen.
When Will came in, Gwen turned to him.
“Captain,” she said, not smiling, which was always a bad sign. Gwen smiled at most things, and when she was deadly serious things were going really badly. “It’s just - that ship yesterday, it was making a clean exit. Its trajectory was perfect and I was thinking that… well, I thought that if Merlin said that didn’t look like an engine fault then what was it, so I asked the Dragon to look into it. I know you didn’t ask me to, but…”
“It’s fine, Gwen,” Will said, waving her explanation aside. “What did you come up with?”
The man on the screen cleared his throat, or he could have been laughing. As he was about to speak, Merlin heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Arthur standing there, Morgana at the bottom of the stairs.
“William,” the man said slowly, “this is interesting, very interesting. It most certainly wasn’t an engine fault, or a pilot error. Your crew is correct. Not that I would expect anything less.”
“Then what was it?” Will asked impatiently.
“All in good time,” the man said, and the Captain’s fingers noticeably tightened on the back of Gwen’s chair where he was resting them. “At the same time as your ship was exploding in the skies of Camelot,” On the secondary screen a slow motion shot of the exploding ship was played, “there was, unseen from the ground and known only to the authorities, an Alliance cruiser planted in a high orbit.” The exploding ship was replaced by a read out of a military orbit plan.
“Why would an Alliance military ship be on a stealth mission in the central systems?” Merlin asked curiously, peering intently at the read outs.
“That, young Merlin, is what I asked myself. So I took advantage of my own talents and looked into it more closely.”
“What has this got to do with the ship?” Will asked, impatiently. The Dragon peered out at him from the screen, his face not twitching an iota.
“Everything is connected, William. Everything. And there is no such thing as coincidence - there is only destiny, fate. They control the universe, and I sit here in the centre of it all and I watch them play out.” The Captain rolled his eyes, sharing a glance with Merlin over Gwen’s head. They had heard that nonsense a few too many times to be impressed by it. The Dragon had an elevated sense of his own importance.
“So you’re saying the Alliance had something to do with the explosion?” Lancelot asked, realising that Will was getting impatient. Next to him, Merlin cast a quick look at Arthur, who was watching the shot of the explosion as it played again over the screen.
“Of course. Like I said, everything is connected, some things more-so than others.”
“What does that mean?” Will asked, his voice tight as his tolerance for the vague, nonsensical answers stretched almost to snapping point.
“These two things in particular are very closely connected. Their destinies are entwined, you might say,” the Dragon went on. On the second screen more read-outs began to feed across the page, numbers denoting energy signatures and so forth, with one line flashing red against the orange of the others. “I looked more carefully into it and I saw that, seconds before the explosion, there was a high energy emission from the Alliance cruiser in the direction of the ship… almost, one could say, targeted.”
“A weapons blast?” Lancelot asked, leaning forwards to look more closely at the figures. Will’s eyebrows raised and Merlin drew in a sharp breath. No one but Merlin noticed Arthur’s brief expression of horror before his jaw tightened stubbornly, refusing to show any further emotion.
“It does look that way, yes.”
“The Alliance shot a ship out of the sky?” Gwen asked in shock.
“Very neatly too. From what I can tell the missile hit the engine dead centre, destroying the ship instantly, no part of the vessel or crew could have survived,” the Dragon looked almost smug. “They meant business.”
“But why would they do that?” asked Merlin.
“That’s not my job, Merlin. I just tell you what happened. It’s up to you to find out the truth behind that if you want to look for it.” The Dragon paused and looked at his little audience, “if I might suggest that you don’t though… this seems like it has the potential to be very… messy in the end and you are highly entertaining. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
“What was the ship called?” Arthur asked from where he stood by the door, out of sight of the view screen. The Dragon paused and looked across the screen to what was probably another monitor of his computer system, tapping away at the keyboard.
“The Gedref,” he said, “registered to a Captain Anhora and his crew. It was one of the older Unicorn models if that’s any help, registration 09-Y78#”
“Thank you,” Will said, shutting down the connection before the Dragon could say anything more. There was silence for a moment as the crew stared at each other, alarmed by the news. It was broken seconds later by Morgana’s voice.
“They all fall down…” she said, half to herself, half to them. “In the end, we all fall down.”
Will felt a shiver creep up his back at the haunted tone in her voice, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to turn around and face her. The shot of the Gedref exploding was still playing in his mind, even though the screens were dark.
*
“Morgana,” Arthur asked, after he had led her back to their quarters, leaving the crew to whisper worriedly among themselves. “Did you know that was going to happen?”
“Did I know what was going to happen?” his sister asked, looking up from the book she had just picked up. She held it upside down, but didn’t seem to notice.
“The Gedref, did you know it was going to explode, because right before it happened you were talking - about fire in the sky.”
“Was I?”
“Yes, and before, when we left the ship, you were upset and you told me that they didn’t deserve what was going to happen to them.”
Morgana looked up, her face creased in confusion.
“I don’t remember that,” she said, haltingly. Her face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “I don’t… remember. Did I know?”
“You seemed to…” Arthur breathed out a long sigh, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I can’t believe I didn’t even know his name until today. He helped me get you out and I didn’t even know his name. It would have been too dangerous. But they got him anyway, in the end.”
“They get everybody in the end,” Morgana said, “some die slow, and some die fast, but everyone dies… the mind can’t live without the body, the body can’t live without the mind either - and neither of them can live without the soul.”
“Morgana…” Arthur looked down at his hands, steepled together in his lap. “Do you think… was it because of us that they all died?”
“Everything’s connected, little brother,” Morgana said, crawling down the bed to lean her head against his shoulder. “Everything’s connected.”
“They won’t find us, Morgana,” he said setting his jaw. “I promise you that no one’s going to hurt you again.”
“Eallwealda árdæde áhreddaþ ús12.” Morgana said, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She bit her lip and slipped an arm round her brother’s waist as he wrapped his own around her shoulders.
*
“Lord Pendragon,” the man said, walking into Uther’s office without an introduction. Pellinore stood in the doorway, looking furious and apologetic at the same time. Uther dismissed him with a wave of the hand.
The man was tall, dressed in a plain cloak with no identifying markings or insignia. He had blond hair, but what most drew Uther’s attention were the scars that covered the left side of his face, clearly from burns. The skin had melted and hardened into thick ridges and furrows that made Uther’s stomach turn. When the man held out his hand in greeting, he could see that the burnt skin extended to the palm. But Uther was well trained, and he had seen men with worse battle scars in the wars, although most of them had not still been alive. He took the proffered hand and shook it firmly, ignoring the unpleasant feel of the twisted skin against his own.
“I am called Edwin, my lord,” the man said, inclining his head slightly, although Uther got the distinct impression that he did not mean to show deference at all. His face was carefully blank, his entire posture self contained and absolutely sure of the placing of every muscle. He did not seem overawed by Uther’s position, nor dismissive of it, he merely acknowledged that it existed. “Currently, at least.”
“And what brings you to my office?” Uther asked.
“The High Council sent me…”
“What position do you hold that the High Council consults you directly?”
“I am… a doctor,” Edwin said, smiling slightly, as if the phrasing almost amused him, though Uther could not imagine this man ever showing true amusement. “I heal the ills of the Alliance.”
“Ah,” Uther’s blood ran cold. The underlying meaning was undeniable. He had heard about these people, had even fought for their existence immediately after the war. They were nameless, emotionless and, as far as every government record was concerned, bar those kept in the most powerful and secure vaults of the Alliance - only in paper, never on a computer, ready to be burnt if anything should go slightly wrong - they did not exist. They came and went and they did what no one else could, what no one else wanted to do.
“I have been sent regarding the unfortunate incident involving your children,” Edwin said, sitting down and indicating that Uther should do the same. He did, without even a question.
“They’re dead,” Uther said firmly, “I gave the order myself.”
“Ah yes, the order to destroy the Gedref, which aided your son in his quest for his sister.”
“Yes, so if that’s all…” Uther picked up a form he had already filled out and signed off on once and attempted to look busy.
“Sadly,” Edwin said, ignoring Uther’s attempts to ignore him, “that isn’t all. Would that it were. We have surveillance footage indicating that your son and daughter left the Gedref at Camelot space port… although we do not know where they went from there. There were a couple of ships which left before we were alerted to their presence and they could be on any one of them.”
Uther’s heart was racing, and his hands shook a little as he replaced the form and linked his fingers together. He was not sure whether to be relieved that Arthur and Morgana were still alive, or upset by this prolonging of the agony.
“You are glad, perhaps, that they are not dead,” Edwin said, nodding. Uther blinked rapidly and shook his head.
“No… it is just… there was…”
“They are your children, it is only to be expected,” Edwin assured him, “Love is stronger than duty - as it should be. It is very powerful, and the Alliance understands that. I know how difficult it must have been for you to make that decision: to give the order to kill your own flesh and blood, the reminders of your Igraine.” Edwin leant forward and picked up the picture frame where is stood, looking down at the pictures of Arthur, Morgana and Igraine that scrolled through one after the other. “And you have proven your loyalty, Lord Pendragon. You have done more than any normal man would have done.”
“I…”
“Can’t do it again. I understand,” Edwin said in a voice that was almost kindly. “That is why I am here. To take the burden off you.”
“You are going to… cure the universe of my children?” Uther asked, his voice tight.
“Yes,” Edwin said with a serene nod, “I have a remedy to cure all ills.”
He stood up, smiling faintly.
“But sadly, conscience doth make cowards of us all,” he murmured. “Your guilt is too great, I fear. Your love is too strong. Once, you could see them killed, but now you see a chance to try again - to save them.”
“I would never betray the Alliance,” Uther protested, his eyes wide.
“Nor would you ever betray Igraine,” Edwin said, pressing the button on the picture frame that held one image on screen and replacing the frame on the desk so that Uther could see it. It held the four of them, Uther and his family, Arthur in Igraine’s arms and Morgana on Uther’s knee, smiling for the camera. Five seconds later Arthur had begun to scream and Morgana had clambered away to play knights and dragons with the photographer’s gear, tearing her expensive dress in the process. It was the last image he had of Igraine alive.
He didn’t even realise he was crying until he tasted the salt of tears on his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Igraine’s smiling face.
“As am I,” Edwin said. “Please understand that I do not blame you, nor does the Alliance. You are not a sinner, nor a traitor. Your only crime is love. But we cannot allow you to try and save your daughter. She is a threat to the Alliance and to the future, as are all the people she has come in contact with. She is a disease that must be purged, before it can infect anybody else. I am creating a better future.”
“You are a murderer,” Uther said firmly.
“I am sorry that you should see it that way, when it is the world you fought for that I am trying to save.”
Uther looked down at his family as Edwin extended his hand.
“I hope that you shall see Igraine and your children again soon,” he said.
There was no flash of light, no sound, just silence followed by the thud of Uther’s body collapsing onto the desk, and then the floor. Edwin turned and left just as Pellinore opened the door, his eyes wide.
Edwin did not look back at where Uther’s body lay, eyes blank and lifeless, nor did he look at Pellinore, whose mouth was open in horror and whose eyes were wide with fear.
“I am going to require the use of the swiftest ship at your disposal,” Edwin said, withdrawing his hands back into his cloak and pulling the hood back up over his head. “Mr Pellinore? Your employer is at peace, he has been cured of all his ills. The ship please…” Pellinore snapped back into PA mode, though his voice trembled a little as he replied.
“Yes sir, certainly. When would you like it for?”
“Immediately. I fear I have a lot of catching up to do.”
*
The next day was not a good day. Morgana woke up, eyes wide, staring into nothingness, and she began to scream. The sound echoed around the ship, amplified by the metal, making it sound as though Avalon herself were screaming.
“Morgana. Morgana!” Arthur was by her side almost instantly. “What is it?” She didn’t see him, looked right through him, tossing and turning, her fingernails digging into her palms so hard that there were bright red streaks of blood dripping down to her wrists. Arthur tried to pry her hands open and hold her down. “Morgana, please. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
The door to their quarters slid open and Will walked in, followed closely by Merlin and Valiant.
“Can’t you keep her quiet?” Will demanded, looking at the pair of them. Arthur twisted round to glare at him, still holding on to Morgana’s wrists desperately.
“How would you suggest I do that?” he asked, bitterly.
“I could help…” Valiant took a step forward, raising the gun in his hand as if to strike her with the butt. The snake head tattoo on his wrist stared at Arthur menacingly.
“You do not touch my sister,” Arthur growled.
“Gag her,” the Captain said, crossing his arms.
“No!” Arthur yelled, “She could hurt herself, or bite her tongue.”
“I don’t care what you do… just stop that noise!” Will yelled over the keening of Morgana’s wails until, suddenly, they stopped and he was left shouting into silence. Arthur felt his sister fall limp in his grasp. “Right…” Will said, a little taken aback, to his right Valiant seemed slightly annoyed that he wouldn’t get to knock her unconscious, but Merlin slipped between the two of them, the ship’s small medical kit in his hand, coming to kneel down next to Arthur.
“Thought you might need this,” he said, gently lifting one of Morgana’s hands from Arthur’s grasp and straightening out her fingers.
“Thank you…”
In the doorway, Will looked at the three of them sourly.
“Just keep her under control, alright. It sounded like someone was being tortured, and that’s not something I like to hear.” He grasped Valiant by the arm and pulled him out.
On the way back to the bridge, they bumped into Lancelot and Gwen, half dressed and concerned.
“Just our guests’ new early morning wake up call,” Will said. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Back in the guest quarters, Merlin and Arthur were wrapping bandages around Morgana’s hands as she stirred again, looking for Arthur.
She raised one half bandaged hand to his face and When he looked up, she was crying.
“We béoþ gedémed13,” she told him. “They’re coming, and we won’t be able to stop them. They’ll tie me down again and cut me open. They’ll try to see how I work.”
“Shhh… Morgana,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin out of the corner of his eye, but the mechanic was studiously ignoring them. “It’s alright, you’re free now.”
“You rescued me,” she said lightly.
“Returning the favour,” Arthur replied.
“Like the Prince in a story… rescuing the damsel. You came for me.”
“I’d hardly call you a damsel,” he said a little uncomfortably. “You’re far too irritating for that. You didn’t think I’d leave you there, did you?”
“I didn’t know. You didn’t talk to me, before I left. You were too cool for me… wrapped up in your own life. You told me to go away - and then I went.”
“I didn’t mean it, Morgana,” Arthur whispered back, forgetting Merlin’s presence momentarily. “I never really meant it.”
“I thought… perhaps, sometimes, you were glad I was gone.”
“I was a gedwæsmann14,” he told her. “And I was never really glad you were gone. There’s no fun in goading you if you aren’t around to react.” He shot a look at Merlin, where he crouched next to them, but the mechanic seemed to have realised that this was a private moment and was studiously ignoring everything other than the bandage in front of him.
“Maybe you should have left me there,” she said, laughing, harsh and cracked. “Maybe I’m not really your sister anymore. It’s the same face, same body, but I’m not the same inside. I’m what they made me. I’m empty… like a drum, and I’m full, all the time I’m so full of things that I don’t understand. There are voices, and there are images, memories I don’t remember. How can I have memories I don’t remember, Arthur?”
“I don’t know… but we’re going to work it all out, alright?” He nodded his head determinedly, “just try and get some sleep.” She slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently.
“Don’t leave,” she said and he nodded, standing up a little so that he could perch on the edge of her bed and lifting his legs until he was sitting alongside her, back against the wall and legs extended parallel to her body. He looked up at Merlin as she closed her eyes.
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Merlin asked, standing up. Arthur shook his head, choosing vague over lies. He knew a little. He knew some of what had been done to her: he knew some aspects of what they had been trying to do, but he had no definites, no solutions, not even any idea of where to begin.
“She’s my big sister,” he said, without really meaning to, and not knowing why he did. Merlin nodded. “I keep expecting her to just be like I remember her, teasing me and calling me names - embarrassing me in front of people, like she always used to. But…” he stopped.
“She’s not the same.”
“Sometimes she is,” he said, Arthur told him, almost defiantly. “Sometimes she’s fine, other times…”
“She wakes up screaming,” Merlin said.
“I remember,” Arthur said, unwilling to let the memory lie. There should be someone else who knew. Why Merlin, he didn’t examine too hard, perhaps it was just that the mechanic was there, was willing to listen. Merlin shouldn’t look at Morgana and see what they made her into. “When I was younger, she’d get me out of trouble. She’d take the blame if I did something really wrong, and she’d just accept whatever punishment our father gave her, even if she knew that he’d punish me less because I was younger. Then afterwards, I never said thank you… not once.”
“That’s because you’re an ungrateful idiot,” Merlin supplied helpfully. Arthur laughed and gave him a mocking glare. He hadn’t turned the lights on full since he had woken up, so distracted by Morgana’s outburst, and Merlin’s face was half in shadow, emphasising his cheekbones and his ears. It made the situation feel less real somehow, and more secret, like for a few moments, he was hidden from everything.
“Yes, I am…” he admitted under his breath, not loud enough for Merlin to here.
“But you’re saying thank you now,” Merlin said, sitting down on the end of the bed. “You’re making up for it.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” Merlin told him, grinning widely. Their gaze held until Arthur had to look away, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
“Anyway, sorry for the disturbance,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll try to stop it from happening again.” Merlin’s face fell slightly and he stood up again, brushing his hands off on his already filthy clothes.
“Yeah, I should be… getting back,” he said, heading towards the door. “I hope Morgana feels better.”
“So do I,” Arthur agreed, “thank you for the…” he waved a hand vaguely, whether he meant the medical assistance or the ability to talk was unclear, but Merlin smiled and nodded anyway before disappearing out of the door.
Arthur took a deep breath and almost jumped out of his skin when Morgana began to speak.
“Some things don’t change, little brother,” she said with amusement, “You’re still a gedwæsmann15.”
*
Lucid periods returned the next day. Morgana even managed to sit in the bridge and have a lengthy conversation with Gwen before lunchtime. Arthur had come to find her and been greeted by an unimpressed look and his sister’s insistence that he stop bothering her by clucking around like a mother hen, much to Gwen’s amusement.
It was when they were halfway through their meal, Merlin managing to make both of them laugh with an anecdote about his teenage years spent working in his mother’s shipyard, that everything started to collapse around them.
The first thing Arthur heard was the footsteps. He was getting used to the clang of boot against metal, so different from the usual soft thudding noise of carpet or the clack of wooden floors he had grown up with. But there was something different about these. There was force behind them and all three of them, and Valiant, who was at the other end of the table, looked up towards the door, wondering what was going on.
Will’s face was as black as thunder when he walked through the doorway, his eyes seeking out and fixing on Arthur’s.
“I didn’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice echoing off the walls. “I’ve been minding my business and keeping away from the Alliance and their lap dogs since the war, and then you have to come along like a bloody beacon and bring down all types of hellfire on us.”
“I don’t know what you’re-” Arthur began, but Will cut him off before he could finish.
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest on the cortex. Gwen caught it a few minutes ago…”
It was then that Arthur noticed the pilot standing beside the Captain, tugging on his arm.
“Will, I’m sure it can’t be right. It’s probably a misunderstanding,” she said, giving Arthur a pleading look.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked, turning to him with wide eyes.
Arthur could feel everything he had tried so hard to do collapsing into ruins. And he shut his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his pounding heart. Will crossed over to him and jerked him upright by the arm, waving the alert in his face, so that he could see his and Morgana’s faces staring back at him.
“Get off me,” Arthur growled, reaching up to grasp Will’s wrist, hard.
“So tell me, Arthur Pendragon,” Will said, spitting out his surname like the worst insult. Lancelot, who had just walked in, summoned by the Captain’s irate voice, turned his head immediately to Arthur, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“Pendragon?” he murmured under his breath.
“Why did you bring your troubles down on me and my crew?”
“Just drop us off and you’ll never hear from us again,” Arthur said firmly. Across the table Morgana was still eating, seemingly oblivious to the pandemonium around her. The room was silent other than the noise of her eating.
“Just like the Gedref dropped you off?” Will asked. Arthur knew that his face betrayed him immediately. “They were the people who left you at the space-port, weren’t they? And you knew they’d been destroyed by the Alliance and you still chose to come aboard my ship.”
“I didn’t know…” Arthur said, “I didn’t know it was the Gedref until yesterday.”
“Right, but you’re not denying that it was because of you and your sister that the Alliance took them out.”
“It seems likely that there is a connection, yes.”
“And the same thing might happen to us.”
“The Alliance doesn’t know where we are, if they did then they wouldn’t be sending out warrants for our arrest,” Arthur pointed out, keeping his voice calm and logical, which only served to infuriate the Captain further. Will shook him slightly until Arthur threw him away from him. “You want us off, we want to get off. So we’ll be getting off next time the ship stops, wherever that is.” The eyes of the crew were on the pair of them.
“No,” Will said, “not good enough. I’m not willing to die for some spoilt rich kid who ran off with Daddy’s money.”
“I am NOT a thief!” Arthur yelled, losing all his carefully maintained composure. Morgana started, dropping her spoon with a clatter. She drew in a deep breath before picking it up again and resolutely continuing to eat. Her brother took several deep breaths and deliberately relaxing his shoulders.
“Then why does this say that you’re a dangerous criminal?” asked Will, indicating the bulletin again, “did you snap one day and kill Daddy dearest, or maybe you and your sister-”
Arthur punched him, squarely to the jaw, years of training and fury meaning that the Captain was knocked clear off his feet, although he was back upright in a second with his weapon drawn.
Arthur looked around, every gun in the room was pointed at him, Lancelot holding his completely steady as he looked the Captain up and down, Valiant looking pleased that he might have an excuse to shoot. Merlin had jumped to his feet too, standing half in front of Arthur holding his hands up in a calming gesture. It wasn’t doing any good.
“Look, let’s just calm down a bit, shall we,” he said, looking Will squarely in the eye.
“I want to know what kind of trouble he’s got coming after us,” Will said.
“I say we just space the pair of them,” Valiant said, grabbing Morgana by the shoulder.
“GET OFF HER!” Arthur didn’t even pause, he was round the table in a flash, tearing Valiant away from his sister and standing between the pair of them, his hands balled into fists. He wished that he had a weapon of his own, just so he didn’t feel so impotent.
“Valiant… leave the girl alone,” Lancelot said firmly, and the thug stepped back, glaring at Arthur.
“Tell me what you did,” Will insisted again.
“It was Morgana, wasn’t it?” Merlin said quietly and Arthur felt himself deflate.
“Yes,” Arthur said. “I rescued her from them… and they want her back.” He looked at Will and watched as the man searched him for any sort of lie before slowly putting his gun away.
“This tastes good,” Morgana said, looking up at them with slight confusion.
*
“Your father’s Uther Pendragon?” Lancelot asked from the doorway, after they had all sat down. “Former Alliance General?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, nodding. “He was a war hero.”
“That really depends on what side you were on,” Will commented. Arthur chose to overlook that remark.
“Anyway, we always had everything, Morgana and I - except our mother. She died when I was three and Morgana was five, and our father was heartbroken.”
“Great,” Valiant commented, “a sob story. Can we just skip past the weepy bits and get onto the part where you’re a wanted fugitive.”
“I need you to understand why this is important,” Arthur said. “So just sit down and listen for a minute. Father… threw himself into his work, after the war he became a politician.”
“Passed the Registration Act for Sensitives,” Merlin said in an unimpressed tone of voice. Arthur nodded, not quite daring to look in the mechanic’s direction.
“Among other things… There were Sensitives involved in my mother’s death, he blames them. I’m not sure whether they were at fault or not, but he believes it.”
“That’s because he’s a prejudiced…” Will began but Gwen and Merlin both glared at him. “Fine, I’ll just shut up then.”
“With him being away so much of the time, Morgana and I only really had each other. We looked out for each other… mostly her looking out for me, but, I’m trying to repay the debt.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Morgana was always… quick, smart. She could read people well, but we never thought… One of her teachers suggested that she might be Sensitive and father...” He shook his head. That had not been a happy day in their household. “It was difficult for him. He couldn’t be seen to be a hypocrite, especially not with the legislation that he had lobbied for. And the High Council told him about a program they were beginning, that they might be able to help Morgana, teach her how to control what ability she had, to contain it, or maybe even to extinguish it completely. He couldn’t pass it up.
“It was three years ago, I was only eighteen at the time. I just heard that Morgana was going to be taught at a different place. Then she never came back. I asked my father when I saw him, but he didn’t want to talk about it, just said that she was fine. I don’t know if the people who worked there sent him reports, or any information at all, or if he found it easier to pretend that he didn’t have a daughter.” Arthur kept his voice clinical, detached, he couldn’t allow the bitterness to creep in. Years of knowing that his father was right, his father must not be questioned.
“A year and a half later and I got a message, it was half nonsense, half inanity, but I knew it was from Morgana, and eventually I managed to work out what it was trying to say: help me.” He glanced over into the corner where Morgana was standing watching him with a quiet smile on her face.
“I couldn’t ignore it. I spent the next eighteen months trying to find out where she was, breaking into my father’s personal accounts, cross matching dates and finding other people who had similar stories. I found a payment, regularly, once a month, to an Alliance research company I’d never heard of.
“By that time, I had come of age for the inheritance my mother had left me in her will and I used all of it to gain access to this place and to get Morgana back.
“I was supposed to be joining the army. I’d been at the academy for two years. I headed out on the shuttle for my final year. My father saw me onto the shuttle. But at the stop over I changed onto another shuttle and went to Albion, where the research facility was based.
“The Gedref and its crew had been looking into the disappearances of Sensitives for a while. I think the Captain’s daughter had been treated in a similar way to Morgana… only from what I understand, she had died.
“They agreed to help me escape, but I had to get in myself. I disguised myself as an army officer sent to inspect the facility, and what I found was worse than I had ever expected. They used the people there to experiment on - searching for their abilities and how to expand them, and how to destroy them. They were looking for ways to make them into weapons, or to wipe them out completely.
“When I found Morgana she was… they were messing around with her head. They were doing things I don’t understand to her. She was a mess.
“I managed to get her out, and the Gedref picked us up, but not before their registration was logged by a nearby facility. The rest you know.” Arthur paused, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said, “I just wanted to save my sister.”
“You didn’t mean to,” Will said, “but the Gedref’s crew is dead because of you.”
“They knew the risks when they helped us,” Arthur argued.
“But I didn’t… and if I had, I never would have let you set foot on my ship,” Will said.
“Which is why I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d be in any danger if you didn’t know who we were.”
“As far as I can see, people are getting killed because of you, and I, personally, don’t want to die for another man’s fight. You’re getting off at the next stop we come to. I won’t have you putting people at risk for a battle that isn’t theirs.”
“Will!” Merlin protested, Gwen’s voice not far behind him. “You can’t just leave them to fend for themselves. It’s not like you’re any friend of the Alliance.”
“Merlin has a point,” Lancelot said, looking at Arthur thoughtfully, “To leave them this close to the central planets would be as good as murder. The Alliance will find them in five minutes. And it seems callous. We should help them. Our fight is not with them, and we’re on the same side.”
“No, we’re not,” Will said shortly. “The war is over Lancelot, there’s no us and them any more, everyone’s on their own side and we’re all out for ourselves. I’m not going to die for some complete strangers, especially not Uther Pendragon’s son, no matter how touching their story might be. They’re getting off at the nearest space-port and that’s final.”
“Yes sir,” Lancelot said, although he did not sound convinced.
“Still think we should just space them,” Valiant commented.
“Well I don’t pay you to think,” Will snapped, rising and walking out of the room, not even glancing at Morgana or Arthur as he did so.
“Glenglic16,” Arthur muttered under his breath.
*
In Morgana’s dreams she sees things she doesn’t understand and people she doesn’t know. Sometimes they follow cleanly from one point to the next, like there is some sort of narrative to them, other times it’s just a jumble, flashes of faces, surging feelings.
Most recently, the faces have stared blankly at her, as though she isn’t there, as though they can look right through her. She feels like a ghost in her own head, as though she doesn’t belong there. They don’t speak to her, they don’t move, just stare.
Then, one by one, they dissolve.
“Sit down,” her father’s voice says from across the dinner table. Her knees bend automatically. She is not in control of her body. She wants to scream at him, ask him how he could have done that to her, how he could have done it to Arthur. She wants to cry because she knows this is the only way she will ever see him again. But none of those things is true yet, and she smiles at him happily. He is her father, and while she does not agree with some of his policies, she knows that she will be able to change them when she is older. She will go into politics, follow his footsteps and she will change the worlds.
Arthur is next to her, quiet.
She remembers this dinner, Arthur eating quickly and silently, not looking up or around at either her or their father. There was something wrong.
She reaches out to poke him… or one of her does. Morgana sees her hand, transparent like a hologram reaching out towards him, touching her brother’s arm. He shivers slightly, she does it again.
Her other self - the self that is real in this dream, and perhaps all the time, because here in the dream world, her other life, on the run in space, seems like a dream - continues eating. Cutting off little slices of meat and vegetables, real vegetables the like of which they can’t have on Avalon: they spoil, they’re expensive. Arthur doesn’t like his peas, he never has, but he doesn’t know how lucky he is to have them.
Their father tells him so.
“On the outer planets, life is a lot harder. They would pay a lot of money for that food you’re pushing round your plate,” Uther tells them. For a second, Morgana sees him crumple to the floor, eyes wide open and sightless, but then he is back, regarding his son with the stern look he does so well.
“On the outer planets there are Skinlaekers,” Arthur mutters, but he eats the peas, one forkful shoved into his mouth, like he’s trying to prove something. He is always trying to prove something. That was why he took the tests to get into the military academy; that was why he continued to study in every subject the school offered, rather than dropping down to the more usual number. That was why he was friends with the son of the High Council member who lived next door; that was why he never asked questions.
Superimposed over the Arthur eating his peas in a rebellious manner, Morgana sees him earnest and worried, more grown up than her little brother should ever be. She wants him like this - stubborn, petulant and minlic17 forever. If she could keep his eyes closed… blindfold him to everything he knows in the future that he didn’t know here.
“What was that?” Uther asks, his glass of wine pausing centimetres away from his lips. Arthur looks like he’s about to back down, but instead, at the last minute, he juts his chin out.
“I said, father, on the Outer Planets there are Skinlaekers.”
“Fairy tales and nonsense…” Uther says, taking a deliberately nonchalant sip of his wine. Morgana can see that he’s lying, can see it in his brain behind that flimsy armour of muscles and bone. Lies, lies, lies. Maybe all he ever said was lies.
No, her father loved her, she knew that once.
Her brother loves her, she knows that now.
“You say it’s lies, but I’ve seen the figures,” Arthur says, his voice rising, gaining courage with every word he speaks. He could be great, this brother of hers. Artie, she’d called him when they were little, and he’d wail at her and scream for their father. She remembers him - chubby red cheeks and screwed up eyes. He will rail at the injustice in the world until it kills him. He will try so hard to be a hero, and never realise that he has been one all along.
The real Morgana, fake Morgana, Morgana that is eating, has paused, watching the back and forth between the two men. She said something here, she is sure she did, but she cannot remember what. Maybe it was Arthur’s name, in warning, asking him to back down. Maybe she tried to alter the conversation, or perhaps she backed him up. Maybe this never actually happened and it will all dissolve like the people she saw before.
“You can’t deny that there are more ships and colonies raided than can be accounted for by pirates.”
“I can, because it’s not true,” Uther replies. His jaw is tight, the muscles tense and the vein in his temple is sticking out slightly. “There are far more pirates out there than you realise, Arthur.”
“And these pirates skin the people alive… they eat their flesh?” Arthur asks - asked, once a long time ago, back when these things meant nothing really to Morgana, just atrocities, to be filed away under things that didn’t happen to nice people.
Naïveté, like a cloak she draws over herself, hanging in thick folds between her and Arthur and their father.
“Rumours and superstition,” Uther tells them, the flick of his fingers as he sets the wine glass down negligent. This is not true, it says. That is what he is supposed to say, when in his mind, underneath it all, he is thinking - Arthur, no. Never learn the truth of these things.
Not that Uther knows the truth, but he knows more than he says and he knows there is more yet that he doesn’t know, but he does not ask questions.
“They have never been substantiated…” There is a man behind Uther’s chair, his skin is decorated in scars and tattoos; there are shards of metal stuck into his arms and a bolt screwed into his forehead. Morgana catches his eyes and she can see through them.
The eyes are the windows to the soul - she never expected there to be nothing beyond.
Uther crumples to the ground, Arthur is crying, silent, angry tears, and Morgana is screaming. The man with the metal third eye smiles, and his eyes whirl with lights. He holds up one hand and Morgana can feel her skin being cut open, right between the eyes. She pulls her lips together with all the will she can muster.
She will not scream, she will not scream.
The man becomes men - in scrubs and face masks, with metal probes and curious hands, they are pulling apart her skull, their hands are in her mind, sifting through it, searching for things.
One of them stabs a needle through her eye. Right through the pupil - she sees it coming, can’t blink. There’s something holding her eye open and then she sees the needle punch through her eye, feels it too.
And then the people are back, staring through her again. She wants them to talk, she wants them to move, but they just stand there - soulless.
They stole their souls.
She wakes up knowing that.
She wakes up screaming and, when Arthur asks, all she can say is that they stole their souls.
*
part 3
part 1
“I’m telling you, Will,” Merlin said urgently, his tone hushed, “she knew there was something wrong before I did. No one knows Avalon better than me. You know that, and I can tell when something’s going tits up. But she just walked in there and she knew. And I could have sworn when we started out that she knew as much about engines as her brother does - which isn’t very much.”
Will looked at him thoughtfully before shrugging.
“It doesn’t matter, Merlin. So she’s a little… odd, probably a Sensitive. But we don’t pry into their business and they won’t pry into ours.” He paused, giving his mechanic, and friend, a significant look. “And we don’t want them prying into our business. You know we don’t.”
“I’m just saying if the girl’s a reader then she’s stronger than any I’ve come across before,” Merlin said holding his hands up.
“They’re paying for passage, and they’re not being any trouble,” Will reminded him, “well, at least none I can’t handle.”
“Arthur’s not that bad,” Merlin argued.
“He’s an andéaw dóc10, Merlin,” the Captain said with an edge of finality. “Never done a day of hard work in his life.”
“Or hard crime?” asked Merlin, raising his eyebrows, going over the lines of a well-worn argument. Will sighed heavily, giving him a look that clearly said he would not accept that level of insolence from any other member of the crew.
“I take whatever jobs I can to keep us alive. Sometimes they don’t involve us staying entirely on the right side of the law. At least they mean we can eat - and we’re still flying. There’s nothing more important than that.”
“I know.”
“The minute the girl or her brother makes trouble for us, they’re off this ship, Merlin. I’m not going to endanger the lives of my crew just so some stuck up rich kid can play ‘how the other half lives’ with his sister.”
“I was just saying that… maybe they’re not out here for thrills.” Merlin played idly with a spanner he had tucked into his pocket, no longer smiling. “You know that life on the central planets is tough for someone with… talents.” Will eyed him for a moment before replying with forced jollity.
“And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that you like to stare at her brother’s arse?” Merlin rolled his eyes.
“Any attraction I have for Arthur is more than balanced out by how much of an obnoxious git he is.”
“Glad to hear it,” Will said, turning to head up the walk way to the bridge. “Now, no more bleeding heart stories. They’re paying passengers and that’s an end of it, ácnæwest11?”
“Yes,” Merlin said reluctantly.
As Merlin was about to walk away, Lancelot popped his head out of the bridge and called to them.
“Sir, the Dragon’s on the line about that ship, the one yesterday,” he said. “You might want to hear this.”
Both Merlin and Will headed up to the bridge, jumping up the small stair case that led into it. When they arrived Gwen was sitting in her customary place at the controls, Lancelot at her side with one hand lightly on her shoulder, and they were talking to a man on the screen.
When Will came in, Gwen turned to him.
“Captain,” she said, not smiling, which was always a bad sign. Gwen smiled at most things, and when she was deadly serious things were going really badly. “It’s just - that ship yesterday, it was making a clean exit. Its trajectory was perfect and I was thinking that… well, I thought that if Merlin said that didn’t look like an engine fault then what was it, so I asked the Dragon to look into it. I know you didn’t ask me to, but…”
“It’s fine, Gwen,” Will said, waving her explanation aside. “What did you come up with?”
The man on the screen cleared his throat, or he could have been laughing. As he was about to speak, Merlin heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Arthur standing there, Morgana at the bottom of the stairs.
“William,” the man said slowly, “this is interesting, very interesting. It most certainly wasn’t an engine fault, or a pilot error. Your crew is correct. Not that I would expect anything less.”
“Then what was it?” Will asked impatiently.
“All in good time,” the man said, and the Captain’s fingers noticeably tightened on the back of Gwen’s chair where he was resting them. “At the same time as your ship was exploding in the skies of Camelot,” On the secondary screen a slow motion shot of the exploding ship was played, “there was, unseen from the ground and known only to the authorities, an Alliance cruiser planted in a high orbit.” The exploding ship was replaced by a read out of a military orbit plan.
“Why would an Alliance military ship be on a stealth mission in the central systems?” Merlin asked curiously, peering intently at the read outs.
“That, young Merlin, is what I asked myself. So I took advantage of my own talents and looked into it more closely.”
“What has this got to do with the ship?” Will asked, impatiently. The Dragon peered out at him from the screen, his face not twitching an iota.
“Everything is connected, William. Everything. And there is no such thing as coincidence - there is only destiny, fate. They control the universe, and I sit here in the centre of it all and I watch them play out.” The Captain rolled his eyes, sharing a glance with Merlin over Gwen’s head. They had heard that nonsense a few too many times to be impressed by it. The Dragon had an elevated sense of his own importance.
“So you’re saying the Alliance had something to do with the explosion?” Lancelot asked, realising that Will was getting impatient. Next to him, Merlin cast a quick look at Arthur, who was watching the shot of the explosion as it played again over the screen.
“Of course. Like I said, everything is connected, some things more-so than others.”
“What does that mean?” Will asked, his voice tight as his tolerance for the vague, nonsensical answers stretched almost to snapping point.
“These two things in particular are very closely connected. Their destinies are entwined, you might say,” the Dragon went on. On the second screen more read-outs began to feed across the page, numbers denoting energy signatures and so forth, with one line flashing red against the orange of the others. “I looked more carefully into it and I saw that, seconds before the explosion, there was a high energy emission from the Alliance cruiser in the direction of the ship… almost, one could say, targeted.”
“A weapons blast?” Lancelot asked, leaning forwards to look more closely at the figures. Will’s eyebrows raised and Merlin drew in a sharp breath. No one but Merlin noticed Arthur’s brief expression of horror before his jaw tightened stubbornly, refusing to show any further emotion.
“It does look that way, yes.”
“The Alliance shot a ship out of the sky?” Gwen asked in shock.
“Very neatly too. From what I can tell the missile hit the engine dead centre, destroying the ship instantly, no part of the vessel or crew could have survived,” the Dragon looked almost smug. “They meant business.”
“But why would they do that?” asked Merlin.
“That’s not my job, Merlin. I just tell you what happened. It’s up to you to find out the truth behind that if you want to look for it.” The Dragon paused and looked at his little audience, “if I might suggest that you don’t though… this seems like it has the potential to be very… messy in the end and you are highly entertaining. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
“What was the ship called?” Arthur asked from where he stood by the door, out of sight of the view screen. The Dragon paused and looked across the screen to what was probably another monitor of his computer system, tapping away at the keyboard.
“The Gedref,” he said, “registered to a Captain Anhora and his crew. It was one of the older Unicorn models if that’s any help, registration 09-Y78#”
“Thank you,” Will said, shutting down the connection before the Dragon could say anything more. There was silence for a moment as the crew stared at each other, alarmed by the news. It was broken seconds later by Morgana’s voice.
“They all fall down…” she said, half to herself, half to them. “In the end, we all fall down.”
Will felt a shiver creep up his back at the haunted tone in her voice, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to turn around and face her. The shot of the Gedref exploding was still playing in his mind, even though the screens were dark.
*
“Morgana,” Arthur asked, after he had led her back to their quarters, leaving the crew to whisper worriedly among themselves. “Did you know that was going to happen?”
“Did I know what was going to happen?” his sister asked, looking up from the book she had just picked up. She held it upside down, but didn’t seem to notice.
“The Gedref, did you know it was going to explode, because right before it happened you were talking - about fire in the sky.”
“Was I?”
“Yes, and before, when we left the ship, you were upset and you told me that they didn’t deserve what was going to happen to them.”
Morgana looked up, her face creased in confusion.
“I don’t remember that,” she said, haltingly. Her face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “I don’t… remember. Did I know?”
“You seemed to…” Arthur breathed out a long sigh, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I can’t believe I didn’t even know his name until today. He helped me get you out and I didn’t even know his name. It would have been too dangerous. But they got him anyway, in the end.”
“They get everybody in the end,” Morgana said, “some die slow, and some die fast, but everyone dies… the mind can’t live without the body, the body can’t live without the mind either - and neither of them can live without the soul.”
“Morgana…” Arthur looked down at his hands, steepled together in his lap. “Do you think… was it because of us that they all died?”
“Everything’s connected, little brother,” Morgana said, crawling down the bed to lean her head against his shoulder. “Everything’s connected.”
“They won’t find us, Morgana,” he said setting his jaw. “I promise you that no one’s going to hurt you again.”
“Eallwealda árdæde áhreddaþ ús12.” Morgana said, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She bit her lip and slipped an arm round her brother’s waist as he wrapped his own around her shoulders.
*
“Lord Pendragon,” the man said, walking into Uther’s office without an introduction. Pellinore stood in the doorway, looking furious and apologetic at the same time. Uther dismissed him with a wave of the hand.
The man was tall, dressed in a plain cloak with no identifying markings or insignia. He had blond hair, but what most drew Uther’s attention were the scars that covered the left side of his face, clearly from burns. The skin had melted and hardened into thick ridges and furrows that made Uther’s stomach turn. When the man held out his hand in greeting, he could see that the burnt skin extended to the palm. But Uther was well trained, and he had seen men with worse battle scars in the wars, although most of them had not still been alive. He took the proffered hand and shook it firmly, ignoring the unpleasant feel of the twisted skin against his own.
“I am called Edwin, my lord,” the man said, inclining his head slightly, although Uther got the distinct impression that he did not mean to show deference at all. His face was carefully blank, his entire posture self contained and absolutely sure of the placing of every muscle. He did not seem overawed by Uther’s position, nor dismissive of it, he merely acknowledged that it existed. “Currently, at least.”
“And what brings you to my office?” Uther asked.
“The High Council sent me…”
“What position do you hold that the High Council consults you directly?”
“I am… a doctor,” Edwin said, smiling slightly, as if the phrasing almost amused him, though Uther could not imagine this man ever showing true amusement. “I heal the ills of the Alliance.”
“Ah,” Uther’s blood ran cold. The underlying meaning was undeniable. He had heard about these people, had even fought for their existence immediately after the war. They were nameless, emotionless and, as far as every government record was concerned, bar those kept in the most powerful and secure vaults of the Alliance - only in paper, never on a computer, ready to be burnt if anything should go slightly wrong - they did not exist. They came and went and they did what no one else could, what no one else wanted to do.
“I have been sent regarding the unfortunate incident involving your children,” Edwin said, sitting down and indicating that Uther should do the same. He did, without even a question.
“They’re dead,” Uther said firmly, “I gave the order myself.”
“Ah yes, the order to destroy the Gedref, which aided your son in his quest for his sister.”
“Yes, so if that’s all…” Uther picked up a form he had already filled out and signed off on once and attempted to look busy.
“Sadly,” Edwin said, ignoring Uther’s attempts to ignore him, “that isn’t all. Would that it were. We have surveillance footage indicating that your son and daughter left the Gedref at Camelot space port… although we do not know where they went from there. There were a couple of ships which left before we were alerted to their presence and they could be on any one of them.”
Uther’s heart was racing, and his hands shook a little as he replaced the form and linked his fingers together. He was not sure whether to be relieved that Arthur and Morgana were still alive, or upset by this prolonging of the agony.
“You are glad, perhaps, that they are not dead,” Edwin said, nodding. Uther blinked rapidly and shook his head.
“No… it is just… there was…”
“They are your children, it is only to be expected,” Edwin assured him, “Love is stronger than duty - as it should be. It is very powerful, and the Alliance understands that. I know how difficult it must have been for you to make that decision: to give the order to kill your own flesh and blood, the reminders of your Igraine.” Edwin leant forward and picked up the picture frame where is stood, looking down at the pictures of Arthur, Morgana and Igraine that scrolled through one after the other. “And you have proven your loyalty, Lord Pendragon. You have done more than any normal man would have done.”
“I…”
“Can’t do it again. I understand,” Edwin said in a voice that was almost kindly. “That is why I am here. To take the burden off you.”
“You are going to… cure the universe of my children?” Uther asked, his voice tight.
“Yes,” Edwin said with a serene nod, “I have a remedy to cure all ills.”
He stood up, smiling faintly.
“But sadly, conscience doth make cowards of us all,” he murmured. “Your guilt is too great, I fear. Your love is too strong. Once, you could see them killed, but now you see a chance to try again - to save them.”
“I would never betray the Alliance,” Uther protested, his eyes wide.
“Nor would you ever betray Igraine,” Edwin said, pressing the button on the picture frame that held one image on screen and replacing the frame on the desk so that Uther could see it. It held the four of them, Uther and his family, Arthur in Igraine’s arms and Morgana on Uther’s knee, smiling for the camera. Five seconds later Arthur had begun to scream and Morgana had clambered away to play knights and dragons with the photographer’s gear, tearing her expensive dress in the process. It was the last image he had of Igraine alive.
He didn’t even realise he was crying until he tasted the salt of tears on his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Igraine’s smiling face.
“As am I,” Edwin said. “Please understand that I do not blame you, nor does the Alliance. You are not a sinner, nor a traitor. Your only crime is love. But we cannot allow you to try and save your daughter. She is a threat to the Alliance and to the future, as are all the people she has come in contact with. She is a disease that must be purged, before it can infect anybody else. I am creating a better future.”
“You are a murderer,” Uther said firmly.
“I am sorry that you should see it that way, when it is the world you fought for that I am trying to save.”
Uther looked down at his family as Edwin extended his hand.
“I hope that you shall see Igraine and your children again soon,” he said.
There was no flash of light, no sound, just silence followed by the thud of Uther’s body collapsing onto the desk, and then the floor. Edwin turned and left just as Pellinore opened the door, his eyes wide.
Edwin did not look back at where Uther’s body lay, eyes blank and lifeless, nor did he look at Pellinore, whose mouth was open in horror and whose eyes were wide with fear.
“I am going to require the use of the swiftest ship at your disposal,” Edwin said, withdrawing his hands back into his cloak and pulling the hood back up over his head. “Mr Pellinore? Your employer is at peace, he has been cured of all his ills. The ship please…” Pellinore snapped back into PA mode, though his voice trembled a little as he replied.
“Yes sir, certainly. When would you like it for?”
“Immediately. I fear I have a lot of catching up to do.”
*
The next day was not a good day. Morgana woke up, eyes wide, staring into nothingness, and she began to scream. The sound echoed around the ship, amplified by the metal, making it sound as though Avalon herself were screaming.
“Morgana. Morgana!” Arthur was by her side almost instantly. “What is it?” She didn’t see him, looked right through him, tossing and turning, her fingernails digging into her palms so hard that there were bright red streaks of blood dripping down to her wrists. Arthur tried to pry her hands open and hold her down. “Morgana, please. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
The door to their quarters slid open and Will walked in, followed closely by Merlin and Valiant.
“Can’t you keep her quiet?” Will demanded, looking at the pair of them. Arthur twisted round to glare at him, still holding on to Morgana’s wrists desperately.
“How would you suggest I do that?” he asked, bitterly.
“I could help…” Valiant took a step forward, raising the gun in his hand as if to strike her with the butt. The snake head tattoo on his wrist stared at Arthur menacingly.
“You do not touch my sister,” Arthur growled.
“Gag her,” the Captain said, crossing his arms.
“No!” Arthur yelled, “She could hurt herself, or bite her tongue.”
“I don’t care what you do… just stop that noise!” Will yelled over the keening of Morgana’s wails until, suddenly, they stopped and he was left shouting into silence. Arthur felt his sister fall limp in his grasp. “Right…” Will said, a little taken aback, to his right Valiant seemed slightly annoyed that he wouldn’t get to knock her unconscious, but Merlin slipped between the two of them, the ship’s small medical kit in his hand, coming to kneel down next to Arthur.
“Thought you might need this,” he said, gently lifting one of Morgana’s hands from Arthur’s grasp and straightening out her fingers.
“Thank you…”
In the doorway, Will looked at the three of them sourly.
“Just keep her under control, alright. It sounded like someone was being tortured, and that’s not something I like to hear.” He grasped Valiant by the arm and pulled him out.
On the way back to the bridge, they bumped into Lancelot and Gwen, half dressed and concerned.
“Just our guests’ new early morning wake up call,” Will said. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Back in the guest quarters, Merlin and Arthur were wrapping bandages around Morgana’s hands as she stirred again, looking for Arthur.
She raised one half bandaged hand to his face and When he looked up, she was crying.
“We béoþ gedémed13,” she told him. “They’re coming, and we won’t be able to stop them. They’ll tie me down again and cut me open. They’ll try to see how I work.”
“Shhh… Morgana,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin out of the corner of his eye, but the mechanic was studiously ignoring them. “It’s alright, you’re free now.”
“You rescued me,” she said lightly.
“Returning the favour,” Arthur replied.
“Like the Prince in a story… rescuing the damsel. You came for me.”
“I’d hardly call you a damsel,” he said a little uncomfortably. “You’re far too irritating for that. You didn’t think I’d leave you there, did you?”
“I didn’t know. You didn’t talk to me, before I left. You were too cool for me… wrapped up in your own life. You told me to go away - and then I went.”
“I didn’t mean it, Morgana,” Arthur whispered back, forgetting Merlin’s presence momentarily. “I never really meant it.”
“I thought… perhaps, sometimes, you were glad I was gone.”
“I was a gedwæsmann14,” he told her. “And I was never really glad you were gone. There’s no fun in goading you if you aren’t around to react.” He shot a look at Merlin, where he crouched next to them, but the mechanic seemed to have realised that this was a private moment and was studiously ignoring everything other than the bandage in front of him.
“Maybe you should have left me there,” she said, laughing, harsh and cracked. “Maybe I’m not really your sister anymore. It’s the same face, same body, but I’m not the same inside. I’m what they made me. I’m empty… like a drum, and I’m full, all the time I’m so full of things that I don’t understand. There are voices, and there are images, memories I don’t remember. How can I have memories I don’t remember, Arthur?”
“I don’t know… but we’re going to work it all out, alright?” He nodded his head determinedly, “just try and get some sleep.” She slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently.
“Don’t leave,” she said and he nodded, standing up a little so that he could perch on the edge of her bed and lifting his legs until he was sitting alongside her, back against the wall and legs extended parallel to her body. He looked up at Merlin as she closed her eyes.
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Merlin asked, standing up. Arthur shook his head, choosing vague over lies. He knew a little. He knew some of what had been done to her: he knew some aspects of what they had been trying to do, but he had no definites, no solutions, not even any idea of where to begin.
“She’s my big sister,” he said, without really meaning to, and not knowing why he did. Merlin nodded. “I keep expecting her to just be like I remember her, teasing me and calling me names - embarrassing me in front of people, like she always used to. But…” he stopped.
“She’s not the same.”
“Sometimes she is,” he said, Arthur told him, almost defiantly. “Sometimes she’s fine, other times…”
“She wakes up screaming,” Merlin said.
“I remember,” Arthur said, unwilling to let the memory lie. There should be someone else who knew. Why Merlin, he didn’t examine too hard, perhaps it was just that the mechanic was there, was willing to listen. Merlin shouldn’t look at Morgana and see what they made her into. “When I was younger, she’d get me out of trouble. She’d take the blame if I did something really wrong, and she’d just accept whatever punishment our father gave her, even if she knew that he’d punish me less because I was younger. Then afterwards, I never said thank you… not once.”
“That’s because you’re an ungrateful idiot,” Merlin supplied helpfully. Arthur laughed and gave him a mocking glare. He hadn’t turned the lights on full since he had woken up, so distracted by Morgana’s outburst, and Merlin’s face was half in shadow, emphasising his cheekbones and his ears. It made the situation feel less real somehow, and more secret, like for a few moments, he was hidden from everything.
“Yes, I am…” he admitted under his breath, not loud enough for Merlin to here.
“But you’re saying thank you now,” Merlin said, sitting down on the end of the bed. “You’re making up for it.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” Merlin told him, grinning widely. Their gaze held until Arthur had to look away, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
“Anyway, sorry for the disturbance,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll try to stop it from happening again.” Merlin’s face fell slightly and he stood up again, brushing his hands off on his already filthy clothes.
“Yeah, I should be… getting back,” he said, heading towards the door. “I hope Morgana feels better.”
“So do I,” Arthur agreed, “thank you for the…” he waved a hand vaguely, whether he meant the medical assistance or the ability to talk was unclear, but Merlin smiled and nodded anyway before disappearing out of the door.
Arthur took a deep breath and almost jumped out of his skin when Morgana began to speak.
“Some things don’t change, little brother,” she said with amusement, “You’re still a gedwæsmann15.”
*
Lucid periods returned the next day. Morgana even managed to sit in the bridge and have a lengthy conversation with Gwen before lunchtime. Arthur had come to find her and been greeted by an unimpressed look and his sister’s insistence that he stop bothering her by clucking around like a mother hen, much to Gwen’s amusement.
It was when they were halfway through their meal, Merlin managing to make both of them laugh with an anecdote about his teenage years spent working in his mother’s shipyard, that everything started to collapse around them.
The first thing Arthur heard was the footsteps. He was getting used to the clang of boot against metal, so different from the usual soft thudding noise of carpet or the clack of wooden floors he had grown up with. But there was something different about these. There was force behind them and all three of them, and Valiant, who was at the other end of the table, looked up towards the door, wondering what was going on.
Will’s face was as black as thunder when he walked through the doorway, his eyes seeking out and fixing on Arthur’s.
“I didn’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice echoing off the walls. “I’ve been minding my business and keeping away from the Alliance and their lap dogs since the war, and then you have to come along like a bloody beacon and bring down all types of hellfire on us.”
“I don’t know what you’re-” Arthur began, but Will cut him off before he could finish.
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest on the cortex. Gwen caught it a few minutes ago…”
It was then that Arthur noticed the pilot standing beside the Captain, tugging on his arm.
“Will, I’m sure it can’t be right. It’s probably a misunderstanding,” she said, giving Arthur a pleading look.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked, turning to him with wide eyes.
Arthur could feel everything he had tried so hard to do collapsing into ruins. And he shut his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his pounding heart. Will crossed over to him and jerked him upright by the arm, waving the alert in his face, so that he could see his and Morgana’s faces staring back at him.
“Get off me,” Arthur growled, reaching up to grasp Will’s wrist, hard.
“So tell me, Arthur Pendragon,” Will said, spitting out his surname like the worst insult. Lancelot, who had just walked in, summoned by the Captain’s irate voice, turned his head immediately to Arthur, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“Pendragon?” he murmured under his breath.
“Why did you bring your troubles down on me and my crew?”
“Just drop us off and you’ll never hear from us again,” Arthur said firmly. Across the table Morgana was still eating, seemingly oblivious to the pandemonium around her. The room was silent other than the noise of her eating.
“Just like the Gedref dropped you off?” Will asked. Arthur knew that his face betrayed him immediately. “They were the people who left you at the space-port, weren’t they? And you knew they’d been destroyed by the Alliance and you still chose to come aboard my ship.”
“I didn’t know…” Arthur said, “I didn’t know it was the Gedref until yesterday.”
“Right, but you’re not denying that it was because of you and your sister that the Alliance took them out.”
“It seems likely that there is a connection, yes.”
“And the same thing might happen to us.”
“The Alliance doesn’t know where we are, if they did then they wouldn’t be sending out warrants for our arrest,” Arthur pointed out, keeping his voice calm and logical, which only served to infuriate the Captain further. Will shook him slightly until Arthur threw him away from him. “You want us off, we want to get off. So we’ll be getting off next time the ship stops, wherever that is.” The eyes of the crew were on the pair of them.
“No,” Will said, “not good enough. I’m not willing to die for some spoilt rich kid who ran off with Daddy’s money.”
“I am NOT a thief!” Arthur yelled, losing all his carefully maintained composure. Morgana started, dropping her spoon with a clatter. She drew in a deep breath before picking it up again and resolutely continuing to eat. Her brother took several deep breaths and deliberately relaxing his shoulders.
“Then why does this say that you’re a dangerous criminal?” asked Will, indicating the bulletin again, “did you snap one day and kill Daddy dearest, or maybe you and your sister-”
Arthur punched him, squarely to the jaw, years of training and fury meaning that the Captain was knocked clear off his feet, although he was back upright in a second with his weapon drawn.
Arthur looked around, every gun in the room was pointed at him, Lancelot holding his completely steady as he looked the Captain up and down, Valiant looking pleased that he might have an excuse to shoot. Merlin had jumped to his feet too, standing half in front of Arthur holding his hands up in a calming gesture. It wasn’t doing any good.
“Look, let’s just calm down a bit, shall we,” he said, looking Will squarely in the eye.
“I want to know what kind of trouble he’s got coming after us,” Will said.
“I say we just space the pair of them,” Valiant said, grabbing Morgana by the shoulder.
“GET OFF HER!” Arthur didn’t even pause, he was round the table in a flash, tearing Valiant away from his sister and standing between the pair of them, his hands balled into fists. He wished that he had a weapon of his own, just so he didn’t feel so impotent.
“Valiant… leave the girl alone,” Lancelot said firmly, and the thug stepped back, glaring at Arthur.
“Tell me what you did,” Will insisted again.
“It was Morgana, wasn’t it?” Merlin said quietly and Arthur felt himself deflate.
“Yes,” Arthur said. “I rescued her from them… and they want her back.” He looked at Will and watched as the man searched him for any sort of lie before slowly putting his gun away.
“This tastes good,” Morgana said, looking up at them with slight confusion.
*
“Your father’s Uther Pendragon?” Lancelot asked from the doorway, after they had all sat down. “Former Alliance General?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, nodding. “He was a war hero.”
“That really depends on what side you were on,” Will commented. Arthur chose to overlook that remark.
“Anyway, we always had everything, Morgana and I - except our mother. She died when I was three and Morgana was five, and our father was heartbroken.”
“Great,” Valiant commented, “a sob story. Can we just skip past the weepy bits and get onto the part where you’re a wanted fugitive.”
“I need you to understand why this is important,” Arthur said. “So just sit down and listen for a minute. Father… threw himself into his work, after the war he became a politician.”
“Passed the Registration Act for Sensitives,” Merlin said in an unimpressed tone of voice. Arthur nodded, not quite daring to look in the mechanic’s direction.
“Among other things… There were Sensitives involved in my mother’s death, he blames them. I’m not sure whether they were at fault or not, but he believes it.”
“That’s because he’s a prejudiced…” Will began but Gwen and Merlin both glared at him. “Fine, I’ll just shut up then.”
“With him being away so much of the time, Morgana and I only really had each other. We looked out for each other… mostly her looking out for me, but, I’m trying to repay the debt.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Morgana was always… quick, smart. She could read people well, but we never thought… One of her teachers suggested that she might be Sensitive and father...” He shook his head. That had not been a happy day in their household. “It was difficult for him. He couldn’t be seen to be a hypocrite, especially not with the legislation that he had lobbied for. And the High Council told him about a program they were beginning, that they might be able to help Morgana, teach her how to control what ability she had, to contain it, or maybe even to extinguish it completely. He couldn’t pass it up.
“It was three years ago, I was only eighteen at the time. I just heard that Morgana was going to be taught at a different place. Then she never came back. I asked my father when I saw him, but he didn’t want to talk about it, just said that she was fine. I don’t know if the people who worked there sent him reports, or any information at all, or if he found it easier to pretend that he didn’t have a daughter.” Arthur kept his voice clinical, detached, he couldn’t allow the bitterness to creep in. Years of knowing that his father was right, his father must not be questioned.
“A year and a half later and I got a message, it was half nonsense, half inanity, but I knew it was from Morgana, and eventually I managed to work out what it was trying to say: help me.” He glanced over into the corner where Morgana was standing watching him with a quiet smile on her face.
“I couldn’t ignore it. I spent the next eighteen months trying to find out where she was, breaking into my father’s personal accounts, cross matching dates and finding other people who had similar stories. I found a payment, regularly, once a month, to an Alliance research company I’d never heard of.
“By that time, I had come of age for the inheritance my mother had left me in her will and I used all of it to gain access to this place and to get Morgana back.
“I was supposed to be joining the army. I’d been at the academy for two years. I headed out on the shuttle for my final year. My father saw me onto the shuttle. But at the stop over I changed onto another shuttle and went to Albion, where the research facility was based.
“The Gedref and its crew had been looking into the disappearances of Sensitives for a while. I think the Captain’s daughter had been treated in a similar way to Morgana… only from what I understand, she had died.
“They agreed to help me escape, but I had to get in myself. I disguised myself as an army officer sent to inspect the facility, and what I found was worse than I had ever expected. They used the people there to experiment on - searching for their abilities and how to expand them, and how to destroy them. They were looking for ways to make them into weapons, or to wipe them out completely.
“When I found Morgana she was… they were messing around with her head. They were doing things I don’t understand to her. She was a mess.
“I managed to get her out, and the Gedref picked us up, but not before their registration was logged by a nearby facility. The rest you know.” Arthur paused, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said, “I just wanted to save my sister.”
“You didn’t mean to,” Will said, “but the Gedref’s crew is dead because of you.”
“They knew the risks when they helped us,” Arthur argued.
“But I didn’t… and if I had, I never would have let you set foot on my ship,” Will said.
“Which is why I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d be in any danger if you didn’t know who we were.”
“As far as I can see, people are getting killed because of you, and I, personally, don’t want to die for another man’s fight. You’re getting off at the next stop we come to. I won’t have you putting people at risk for a battle that isn’t theirs.”
“Will!” Merlin protested, Gwen’s voice not far behind him. “You can’t just leave them to fend for themselves. It’s not like you’re any friend of the Alliance.”
“Merlin has a point,” Lancelot said, looking at Arthur thoughtfully, “To leave them this close to the central planets would be as good as murder. The Alliance will find them in five minutes. And it seems callous. We should help them. Our fight is not with them, and we’re on the same side.”
“No, we’re not,” Will said shortly. “The war is over Lancelot, there’s no us and them any more, everyone’s on their own side and we’re all out for ourselves. I’m not going to die for some complete strangers, especially not Uther Pendragon’s son, no matter how touching their story might be. They’re getting off at the nearest space-port and that’s final.”
“Yes sir,” Lancelot said, although he did not sound convinced.
“Still think we should just space them,” Valiant commented.
“Well I don’t pay you to think,” Will snapped, rising and walking out of the room, not even glancing at Morgana or Arthur as he did so.
“Glenglic16,” Arthur muttered under his breath.
*
In Morgana’s dreams she sees things she doesn’t understand and people she doesn’t know. Sometimes they follow cleanly from one point to the next, like there is some sort of narrative to them, other times it’s just a jumble, flashes of faces, surging feelings.
Most recently, the faces have stared blankly at her, as though she isn’t there, as though they can look right through her. She feels like a ghost in her own head, as though she doesn’t belong there. They don’t speak to her, they don’t move, just stare.
Then, one by one, they dissolve.
“Sit down,” her father’s voice says from across the dinner table. Her knees bend automatically. She is not in control of her body. She wants to scream at him, ask him how he could have done that to her, how he could have done it to Arthur. She wants to cry because she knows this is the only way she will ever see him again. But none of those things is true yet, and she smiles at him happily. He is her father, and while she does not agree with some of his policies, she knows that she will be able to change them when she is older. She will go into politics, follow his footsteps and she will change the worlds.
Arthur is next to her, quiet.
She remembers this dinner, Arthur eating quickly and silently, not looking up or around at either her or their father. There was something wrong.
She reaches out to poke him… or one of her does. Morgana sees her hand, transparent like a hologram reaching out towards him, touching her brother’s arm. He shivers slightly, she does it again.
Her other self - the self that is real in this dream, and perhaps all the time, because here in the dream world, her other life, on the run in space, seems like a dream - continues eating. Cutting off little slices of meat and vegetables, real vegetables the like of which they can’t have on Avalon: they spoil, they’re expensive. Arthur doesn’t like his peas, he never has, but he doesn’t know how lucky he is to have them.
Their father tells him so.
“On the outer planets, life is a lot harder. They would pay a lot of money for that food you’re pushing round your plate,” Uther tells them. For a second, Morgana sees him crumple to the floor, eyes wide open and sightless, but then he is back, regarding his son with the stern look he does so well.
“On the outer planets there are Skinlaekers,” Arthur mutters, but he eats the peas, one forkful shoved into his mouth, like he’s trying to prove something. He is always trying to prove something. That was why he took the tests to get into the military academy; that was why he continued to study in every subject the school offered, rather than dropping down to the more usual number. That was why he was friends with the son of the High Council member who lived next door; that was why he never asked questions.
Superimposed over the Arthur eating his peas in a rebellious manner, Morgana sees him earnest and worried, more grown up than her little brother should ever be. She wants him like this - stubborn, petulant and minlic17 forever. If she could keep his eyes closed… blindfold him to everything he knows in the future that he didn’t know here.
“What was that?” Uther asks, his glass of wine pausing centimetres away from his lips. Arthur looks like he’s about to back down, but instead, at the last minute, he juts his chin out.
“I said, father, on the Outer Planets there are Skinlaekers.”
“Fairy tales and nonsense…” Uther says, taking a deliberately nonchalant sip of his wine. Morgana can see that he’s lying, can see it in his brain behind that flimsy armour of muscles and bone. Lies, lies, lies. Maybe all he ever said was lies.
No, her father loved her, she knew that once.
Her brother loves her, she knows that now.
“You say it’s lies, but I’ve seen the figures,” Arthur says, his voice rising, gaining courage with every word he speaks. He could be great, this brother of hers. Artie, she’d called him when they were little, and he’d wail at her and scream for their father. She remembers him - chubby red cheeks and screwed up eyes. He will rail at the injustice in the world until it kills him. He will try so hard to be a hero, and never realise that he has been one all along.
The real Morgana, fake Morgana, Morgana that is eating, has paused, watching the back and forth between the two men. She said something here, she is sure she did, but she cannot remember what. Maybe it was Arthur’s name, in warning, asking him to back down. Maybe she tried to alter the conversation, or perhaps she backed him up. Maybe this never actually happened and it will all dissolve like the people she saw before.
“You can’t deny that there are more ships and colonies raided than can be accounted for by pirates.”
“I can, because it’s not true,” Uther replies. His jaw is tight, the muscles tense and the vein in his temple is sticking out slightly. “There are far more pirates out there than you realise, Arthur.”
“And these pirates skin the people alive… they eat their flesh?” Arthur asks - asked, once a long time ago, back when these things meant nothing really to Morgana, just atrocities, to be filed away under things that didn’t happen to nice people.
Naïveté, like a cloak she draws over herself, hanging in thick folds between her and Arthur and their father.
“Rumours and superstition,” Uther tells them, the flick of his fingers as he sets the wine glass down negligent. This is not true, it says. That is what he is supposed to say, when in his mind, underneath it all, he is thinking - Arthur, no. Never learn the truth of these things.
Not that Uther knows the truth, but he knows more than he says and he knows there is more yet that he doesn’t know, but he does not ask questions.
“They have never been substantiated…” There is a man behind Uther’s chair, his skin is decorated in scars and tattoos; there are shards of metal stuck into his arms and a bolt screwed into his forehead. Morgana catches his eyes and she can see through them.
The eyes are the windows to the soul - she never expected there to be nothing beyond.
Uther crumples to the ground, Arthur is crying, silent, angry tears, and Morgana is screaming. The man with the metal third eye smiles, and his eyes whirl with lights. He holds up one hand and Morgana can feel her skin being cut open, right between the eyes. She pulls her lips together with all the will she can muster.
She will not scream, she will not scream.
The man becomes men - in scrubs and face masks, with metal probes and curious hands, they are pulling apart her skull, their hands are in her mind, sifting through it, searching for things.
One of them stabs a needle through her eye. Right through the pupil - she sees it coming, can’t blink. There’s something holding her eye open and then she sees the needle punch through her eye, feels it too.
And then the people are back, staring through her again. She wants them to talk, she wants them to move, but they just stand there - soulless.
They stole their souls.
She wakes up knowing that.
She wakes up screaming and, when Arthur asks, all she can say is that they stole their souls.
*
part 3