12. Revelations of the Faithful
~ Two Days Before the Welcoming Ceremony ~
Amarria felt groggy, but the effects of activation are wearing off. The nurse, if that is what you want to call her, is in the next set of rooms. She attempts to sit up. A GalNet terminal sits idle next to her bed, and with some effort she lurches over to it, touching its panel.
"Open transmission to Medical Teams." She looks back to the other rooms, but the nurse is too far away.
"Specify," the voice requests.
"All Medical Teams. Now!"
"Standard relay transmission open."
"This is Doctor Amarria Darcest. I am reporting my findings to you in the hope you are able to utilize the information herein. Please do not listen to the words of the Amarr, Daison Kador. I am not a traitor. I was attempting to discover a way to neutralize the retrovirus, and was caught by Sect Warden forces near Ezzara VI."
Amarria leaned against the wall, her breathing getting harder. This clone wasn’t going to survive. She had to do it, she knew, just in case she died before releasing the information -- and somewhere in a facility not far from Ezzara, and not operated under Amarr control. The black-market facility reminded her of the stories of ancient torture chambers.
Her breathing came as gasps.
"My findings . . . my findings are that radiating the doses provided by the Sect of the Warden with cesium 135 and cesium 156 neutralize the retrovirus sufficiently to pass mostly harmless from the system. Measure the dosage of radiation carefully, but of course you all know this. Reproduction of the treatment is a matter of incorporating cesium and gallium in 2 parts per million to a solution of 1/1000th retrovirus to saline. That will make enough doses for everyone in New Eden and then some, if my calculations are correct."
She fell to her knees, keeping her voice low and hoping it was being recorded. "Ezzara is the planet Ardishapur bombarded after the uprising there. The Sect of the Warden claim that planet, I was sure of it. The Khumaaks aboard those . . . those deaths ships were their symbols."
Face pressed against the wall.
"I took the treatment pack to the planet, which is high in natural cesium. The Sect used the planet to provide the resources to alter this virus, and as always, such processes include their natural determinants. In this case, cesium."
Four breaths per minute now.
"It should be a . . . a simple matter to inject . . . all pilots via their neural inter . . interface . . . and spare the whole of New Eden this disaster. All others can be normally . . ."
So very tired. Amarria let her eyes close. Not even enough time to have purchased another clone . . .
A moment passed, and the nurse entered. Looking down at the body, she shrugged. One out of two ain't bad, right? At least the other one is doing well. She always hated losing a clone. She called for the orderly to clear up the mess, and pulled the curtain surrounding the other clone.
The woman who stared back at her carried the facial mark of Degraded, and used to sport long blonde hair -- which the nurse had cut away because it had not grown in properly. Such a beautiful face, the nurse thought, for one of the shamed.
Oh well, she had paid for her clone just like anyone.
"How are we doing today?" The nurse said, always trying to sound enthusiastic. "It's a good thing you missed that one dying there while you were sleeping. I do hate when patients see others suffering. It's a terrible . . "
The Degraded was on her feet and rushing to the blinking NeoCom. She simply stepped over the Amarri's body and was tapping the interface. Too late the message the Amarri had recorded was already broadcast.
The Degraded's fist smashed the panel, and she slumped to the floor.
"Now, now, that's not very nice," the nurse said. "That will cost you for its replacement, but let's get that hand fixed up shall we? There's a good girl."
**
The shredders outside the malinite outropping had grown to thousands, probably tens of thousands, but the sight of a field of wind-worn flags did not slow the three ronin from entering into the caves at full speed. Even Gaelbhan seemed intent and energized.
The last week had seen many events happening in the worlds of New Eden. The Sect of the Warden had released a deadly virus - not just against the Amarr, but for all races. The machinations of it were boggling.
RageChild walked next to Gaelbhan, her sister-of-blood, but even this close proximity would not allow the shared-mind. Her sister was as a blank wall, moving and talking but not truly there. After assisting in the location of the Amarrian doctor in Ezzara this morning, her NeoCom opened with Gaelbhan’s face – her heart raced and the rifter responded by plunging headlong into the Hed to meet up with her. Airgoidh took the direct route to Amamake, maneuvering the ship in ways RageChild had never seen in a pilot.
RageChild had tried to speak with Gaelbhan about her escape, but her sister would not talk about it. Realizing she could not pry information from her, she told Gaelbhan of the threat the Sect of the Warden. She told her sister of the attempts to stop the doctors from discovering a cure, and the fact that Daison Kador was involved directly in an engagement in Ezzara.
“So, he still lives,” Gaelbhan said.
The sisters did not know how to take her statement, but they continued their effort to educate Gaelbhan on events. "The Degraded have taken the work of a thousand generations and turned it into their own version of the Sect of the Sun Warden then?" Airgoidh asked as they passed through the caves, walking now around the pool.
"It appears, sisters, that the Sect of the Warden is now firmly in the hands of these Degraded."
RageChild tried to tell if Gaelbhan was disappointed in having her work, and the Sect of the Sun Warden perverted as it was by the actions of the Degraded, but nothing could be read on her face. Herself, she felt angry and dismayed that the Degraded have taken to atrocities that affected all citizens of New Eden. They may even be guilty of attempted genocide.
Gaelbhan refrained from telling her sisters of the poison in her system. She did not want them to know of her decision to be the Sebiestor-in-Waiting of the upcoming Welcoming Ceremony on Matar, a ceremony in which she would sacrifice herself to Matar. A sacrifice not to spare her the death of Daison's poison, but to relish in the faith that was hers, faith in Matar.
Faith that Cizin would see her soul return again in another way at another time. She certainly did not tell them that the poison made it impossible for her clone to activate properly. The doctors at the Clone Bank had seen similar situations, and could offer no solution.
The cave of the Sun Pool opened onto the underground temple. The crude houses and the general stonework were still there of course, built from solid malinite, but the Sun Warden panel and relics were gone.
"They took advantage of your absence . . ." Airgoidh said, holding her blood-sister's hands in her own. They looked into each other’s eyes, Gaelbhan knowing from the outset of her sister’s blindness. She had arranged bio-implants for her sister just before sending her to the Republic Military School. In addition to seeing her sister’s eyes still inactive, she saw a deepening of darkened intent there. Airgoidh had come through a test, perhaps borne of Cizin Himself, and she know had perception beyond the normal.
"The Degraded and the ronin have worked together in the past," Gaelbhan answered, turning away. The fires of Cizin burned equally as bright in both, the Paratwa and the Degraded cousins in the effort to turn the darkness of the universe back to itself and rebirth."
"Not today," RageChild mumbled.
"Yes sisters, even today. Just not in the form we thought."
**
Airgoidh dreamed. Her mind was the world for her, her eyes useless in deciphering visual light except as the bio-implants provided. Her dreams were reality and the universe filled her perception with sights and sounds and smells so accurate that her mind generated life. She could walk along the most treacherous path and seem as if she weren’t blind. She could hear people speaking of her across the rise, or simply let the dreams play. She had often let them just play, events and things just doing.
Now she dreamed of cities in ruin, the basis of civilization brought up against the wall of destruction of their own fears, fears of their creation. She dreamed of Gaelbhan. She dreamed of a journey together into the space lanes, establishing the conditions within the factions of men that would bring about minimization of their lives. She dreamed of misconstruction of alliances, of the false promises of faction leadership so dark that outright war could be the only result.
She dreamed of these warring factions demanding the best warriors and assassins money could buy – an army of Paratwan assassins – the True Paratwa of Cizin’s great plan. She could feel some hesitation in her sister-of-blood, but she knew that would end as she explained the revelations of her faith. Sister RageChild would follow, of course, and the three would push forward Cizin’s plans to balance the universe’s energies.
She dreamed of her and Gaelbhan standing on frozen cliffs, startled by the vivid cold that enveloped them. This dream covered all others, like a blanket over layers of reality. The sky was beginning to show dawn’s light, but she could not turn to see her sister. Gaelbhan seemed to diminish as if she were moving away. She was unable to breathe as the air became as solid rock. She fought to breathe, and found instead water in her lungs. She coughed, but even that movement was impossible. Gaelbhan was gone. Nothing of her remained. She cried out.
She woke, looking around. Her mind created the image of the caverns in fullest detail, but she saw nothing of her sisters. Gaelbhan was gone, and so was RageChild. A ship was prepping up in the hangar, a thousand meters up. She ran up the long underground incline to the Mount hangar, finding only RageChild there.
“Our sister has business on Matar – a Sebiestor ceremony I think – their Welcoming Ceremony. She left last night after you fell asleep. Come, let us return to the station to reload our ammo stores.”
Airgoidh ignored her, running to her own rifter and settling herself into the pod. She floated in the gel, which reacted with cold autonomy as it calculated the trajectory to punch through the atmosphere. She cried. Her mind refused to make an image of her sister-of-blood. Even the gel remained static as she willed the onboard data bank to recall her image from storage. The sun was rising on Matar about now.
Nothing remained of her dream of Gaelbhan, her sister-of-blood. Not even a mindful memory.