True Believers: Part Twenty-Three
"This is quite the place, huh, Dreamy?"
"Don't call me that," Gina said absently, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself as she studied the room they were in. It looked a little bit like the War Room at the mansion, but bigger. And the technology looked--different.
Jubilee shrugged, and sipped at her hot chocolate. "So what exactly are you guys supposed to be doing, Scooter?" she asked rather derisively of Tally, who scowled at her.
"None of your business," the white-haired girl muttered, and then gave Jubilee a nasty smile. "It's classified."
"Classified," Jubilee scoffed. "Sure. Right."
"Right," Tally said, making a vain attempt to straighten her hair. "Why do you think Ambrose was so uptight about you two being here?" She shot a slightly uneasy look over at the tall, thin man working at one of the consoles.
Gina frowned. So Tally doesn't like him either. Ambrose had introduced himself as the station's 'security officer'. With a job like that, she would've expected someone like Bishop, but Ambrose was--strange. He'd just--stared at Jubilee and her, a cold, dead look in his brown eyes. It reminded her too much of Essex.
She'd counted six other people on the way through the base to this room--four men and two women. They'd all been polite and friendly, even curious, but they'd gone back to their own duties almost immediately. Gina gathered that there was something bad going on, but no one was explaining.
Kevin--the 'station chief', according to Tally--just seemed irritated, as if he didn't have time to be worrying about two uninvited guests. At least Angharad had been nice enough--
The door beside them slid open, and Angharad came in. Seeing them sitting there in the corner, she smiled and came over. "You don't have to pretend you're not there," she said gently. "Do you need anything? Something to eat?"
"Angharad," Ambrose said in an emotionless voice. The green-haired woman glanced over at him, and made a face.
"Am I disturbing you then, Ambrose?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes."
"Good," she said, just as pleasantly, and then turned back to them. "You'll have to forgive Ambrose. It isn't his fault he was born without a sense of humor."
Gina smiled tentatively. She liked Angharad already. Extending her mind tentatively towards the woman, her smile grew a little at the impressions she got. Humor and warmth and a strangely embarassed maternalness--it only confirmed what her instincts had been telling her. Just as she was about to break off the light contact, an image flickered through her mind, of Angharad and Kevin--oh! Gina flushed and immediately withdrew. I don't think I was supposed to see that!
"Are you all right, lass?" Angharad asked her concernedly.
"Umm--yeah, fine," Gina said hurriedly.
The door slid open again, in time to save her from any more questions, and Kevin came in, looking grim. Gina squirmed a bit as he came over. She couldn't remember being so intimidated of someone since she'd met Nathan and Bishop. He was almost as tall as them, but leaner, with short, spiky black hair, an ugly scar across one cheek, and strange topaz-colored eyes that looked right into you.
"Well, I have search parties out," he said. "I'm just praying this isn't the Askani we were told to watch out for."
"You said her name was Hana," Jubilee volunteered. "This one says her name is Miriya--"
Kevin gave her a slightly disgusted look. "And you're positive that was her real name she gave you," he said sarcastically. "She may not fit the description, but that doesn't mean anything. She could have been distorting your perceptions--" His expression suddenly darkened--
And Gina gasped as her powers activated, seemingly of their own accord, flooding her mind with images.
--Kevin and a blond girl, wearing strange armor and fighting beside other mutants. Fighting and killing--but unlike the others beside them, they moved a little stiffly, almost like puppets, and their eyes were dead, not full of blood-lust or pleasure. And if she looked closer, just beneath the surface, she could sense anger, shock, pain--helplessness. They didn't WANT to be there--
The images faded, and Gina stared at Kevin in absolute shock. He was as white as a ghost. "I--I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to do that--I don't know what happened!"
He swallowed, and managed a crooked smile. "Your powers are a little more impressive first-hand, kid," he said. He was so obviously trying to reassure her, to brush it off, that Gina nearly burst into tears on the spot.
She HATED her powers! They couldn't do anything but hurt people!
He reached out and took her hand, but it was Angharad he spoke to. "Jelena's been having the same sort of problems with her telepathy," he said almost thoughtfully. "Ever since that distortion wave hit."
Angharad nodded, looking concerned. "I know. I just went to check on her. Offered her a sedative, and she nearly bit my head off."
Kevin turned back to Gina. "Don't worry about it," he said, more gently. "It's not something I haven't relived a thousand times in my nightmares. But if you keep having trouble with your powers, tell us, okay? It seems to be something about this distortion that's affecting psis."
"O-Okay," Gina said, still feeling miserable. Kevin raised an eyebrow, giving her that same odd smile.
"You're not even going to ask?"
About the memories, he meant. She didn't need to.
"I guess I must be too used to Scooter here and her never-ending flow of questions," Kevin said, and darted a look sideways at Tally. Instead of scowling at the nickname, which Gina had already figured out was her usual expression in such circumstances, Tally was staring back at Kevin, looking upset by the whole conversation. Kevin smiled at her faintly and then turned back to Gina. "You've been in Nathan's memories, from what we've heard. You probably know what--"
"You--were a Dark Rider," she whispered. "You and--" The name of the blond girl, however, was missing. All that she'd gotten about her was protectiveness and rage from Kevin's perspective--
"Melinda. My sister," Kevin supplied.
"Whoa!" Jubilee said sharply. "You were a WHAT?"
Kevin looked sideways at her. "Not by choice," he said, almost lightly. "Our father was one of Apocalypse's telepaths. Mel and I both have very--destructive mutant abilities."
His sister had been tossing huge fireballs around. Pyrokinesis, Gina remembered from one of her classes. And Kevin--he'd been emanating waves of crimson energy that smashed through everything in their path like a knife cutting through butter.
Kevin was still talking. "High-octane wielders--isn't that the term the X-Men use sometimes?" he asked, almost dryly. "Apocalypse was--impressed. So we were--encouraged to make ourselves useful." His mouth twisted bitterly for a moment. "Our father was just twisted enough to think he was doing us a favor--'securing our futures'."
Gina got the point. So did Jubilee, apparently.
"Bummer," Jubilee whispered. "But what happened? I mean, how did you get free?"
Kevin's smile, this time, was almost chilling. "Someone blew the old bastard's head off for us." He squeezed Gina's hand once, then let go and stood up. "That's why you'll never hear me make a joke about Nathan's guns."
***
"I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about this," Rebecca said lightly from where she was perched on the edge of the interface room's console. Her emitter floated in the air above her, responding to each minute shift in position so there was no distortion in her holographic image. "But then again, part of me is glad to be going. I've been worried about Jamie."
Cable started to nod, and then thought better of it. If he kept very still, his head didn't hurt quite so much. "So have I," he said, hearing the fatigue in his voice and hating it. "I don't know what Carmen was thinking, sending him in there--"
"It was his idea," Rebecca pointed out, and smiled wryly. "I tried to talk him out of it."
"Successful as always, I gather?" he said, trying to smile back at her. He couldn't quite manage it.
"You of all people know how stubborn he is," she said lightly, but her eyes narrowed in worry as she studied his face. "Nathan, are you sure you're all right?"
"Oh, great, not you too!" he snapped, oddly flustered to realize that even a hologram could notice how bad he looked. "Why don't I just wear a sign? Avoid all the questions--"
"Stop being such a bastard," Rebecca said, a little disapprovingly, and Cable shut his mouth. A rebuke from Rebecca, who was perennially sweet-tempered even as a hologram, carried a surprising amount of weight. "Aren't we allowed to worry about you? You nearly died six weeks ago, and frankly, right now you look like you DID."
Cable started to reply, but the words froze on his tongue as the air in the room turned an odd greenish color and took on the consistency of molasses. Rebecca's image seemed to stretch out, turning her into a giant, and a wave of nausea swept through him. He gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut. No one else seemed to be able to see these little--episodes, so talking about it was more than a little pointless.
The fabric of reality was breaking down around him, fraying under the pressure of the temporal flux. He could see it--thanks to his latent chronal-variant abilities, he supposed--but he couldn't do a flonqing thing about it, except try to ride it out.
The distortion abruptly faded, as suddenly as it had appeared, and he could breathe normally again.
"Nathan?" Rebecca asked, concernedly. "My sensors says your heart rate just skyrocketed. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he muttered, and forced himself to release his death-grip on the arms of his chair. "Look, Rebecca, I just wanted to make sure you were clear on what we were planning."
Rebecca smiled wryly, though there was still a faint uneasiness in her expression as she looked at him. "Didn't you trust Melinda to explain it all?"
Cable bit back an exasperated sigh, and got up. The room spun around him, but he forced himself to ignore it. "That's not it, Rebecca. I just thought--it's a risk, and I felt like I should talk to you about it myself."
Rebecca's smile grew a little more sincere. "Nate, I'm already dead, remember?"
Cable felt a flicker of that same near-hysterical mirth that he'd given in to back on the plane, when he'd seen Stryfe in the mirror and smashed it. He pushed it away, almost fearfully. He had to stay in control, here. Maniacal laughter was not going to reassure anyone about his ability to lead this mission. "Oh, I remember," he said unsteadily. "But I killed you once, Rebecca, and I don't want to do it again--"
"I really wish you'd stop saying that, Nathan," she said softly. "The bio-attack killed me. Not you."
"You shouldn't have even been there." The memories reached up to claim him, mocking, but he somehow managed to elude their grasp. They subsided, back into the depths of his mind, but he knew it was just a reprieve. Something would happen to trigger another flashback--and he had enough dark memories to serve as fodder for thousands of them.
He heard the door slid open. "Nate?"
"Hello, Domino," Rebecca said with a friendly smile.
***
Domino, eyeing the holographic girl warily, went over to join Nathan. She sized him up with a look, and didn't like what she saw. He was flushed, a little glassy-eyed, and looked none too steady on his feet. The link was still echoing with pain, almost unbearably so when she was this close to him, proximity heightening the connection. She honestly didn't know how he was managing to stand it. Stupid, stubborn-- Reminding herself how little was probably left of his shields, she cut herself off in mid-thought and turned to the hologram, to buy herself some time.
"Hello," she said, somewhat warily. The hologram's smile only grew.
"I should have introduced myself earlier, I guess. I'm Rebecca. It's nice to meet you," it--she? Domino wondered--said. Rebecca extended a hand and then shook her head, looking aggravated. "Sorry. I still slip up and forget I'm not solid anymore, sometimes."
"Not--anymore?" Domino asked, curious almost despite herself
"I think you'd probably call me a ghost," Rebecca said, and then looked rather charmed by the idea. "The 'real me' died five years ago. I'm just--memories and a psi-pattern. Our computer needed an operating system, and I decided I wanted to be it."
"You don't--mind?" Domino asked, shivering at the idea. Dying was one thing. But having part of yourself kept alive, unable to touch, or feel--I couldn't do it. Not even for a 'good cause'.
"No," Rebecca said cheerfully. "I like being useful."
Domino's eyes narrowed, and she looked across at Nathan. "Useful," she said, her mouth twisting.
It was a gut reaction, that unspoken accusation, and she regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth. His eyes narrowed, and a brief flicker of anger flashed across the link, like a wayward spark, replaced almost immediately by a sadness so heavy that she could almost taste it, like ashes in her mouth.
"It was her choice," he said in a low, unsteady voice. "And it wasn't my idea to begin with, so go be indignant somewhere else."
"I didn't say anything," she said defensively.
His mouth twisted bitterly. "Try that on someone who isn't a telepath. I know perfectly well what you were thinking."
For a moment, she seriously debated wringing his neck, but forced herself to remember that she had, after all, started it. "I'm sorry," she said tightly. "I had no right to--think anything of the sort. And if you say ANYTHING about 'sorry has no meaning', I swear--"
"I actually get tired of spouting cliches sometimes, if you can believe that," he said, almost harshly.
Cliches? Domino wondered. Rebecca was watching them, her expression distant and somehow preoccupied, but curiously sad at the same time. "Cliches?" she repeated aloud, trying to keep her tone light. "You sure that won't get you shot for blasphemy or something?"
"Heresy is vastly underrated," Nathan muttered, staring down at the console.
"I am never going to understand why you get off on being oblique, Nate," Domino said bitingly. This was swiftly moving beyond frustrating to infuriating. She was running out of tactics.
"I'm just perverse that way. What can I say?" The words, spoken in a different tone, would have been wry, even bantering. But his voice was flat and expressionless--it was as if he was going through the motions of a conversation without really meaning it.
Rebecca's image flickered, and she frowned. "Geneva Station just came back online--I've got to reestablish their link to the tactical net." She gave Nathan a quick, almost pleading look, and then vanished. Her emitter hummed and floated back down to the console.
"She seems nice," Domino said, for lack of anything better to say. Nathan said nothing. "For a hologram, I mean. I bet she and Professor--Prosh, rather, got along well."
Still no answer. Domino tried not to grind her teeth. He's either forgotten I'm standing here or he's decided to ignore me. Either one was not acceptable. She was going to snap him out of this, one way or the other.
Another question occurred to her; one that might, from what she'd sensed of his reaction earlier, do the trick. "Nathan, what exactly is the Record?"
***
Nathan froze. Out of all the questions she could have picked, she chose THAT? part of him screamed.
But he found himself answering, in a level, neutral voice that might have fooled anyone to whom he wasn't psi-linked. "Another computer program--an artifical intelligence."
"That doesn't tell me much," she said, and moved around to stand in front of him, leaning against the same console Rebecca had been sitting on. "If Rebecca's the operating system, what's the Record?"
Something broke inside him, and it all came out in a flood. "The blueprint for the future," he snarled, nearly choking on the hate and guilt and frustration the subject of the Record always provoked. "A paratemporal diagram of what specific events have to take place to bring about the 'preferred' timeline." Domino opened her mouth, but he continued furiously. "What, you thought Apocalypse was the only concern? History is a chaotic system, Dom! And according to Blaquesmith, killing Apocalypse won't do any good if we don't have all the correct nexus points set up. All our stars in alignment, if you like--"
She straightened. "But you don't believe that," she said. It wasn't a question. "I can feel what you think of this thing, Nate--"
"Since when has it ever--EVER mattered to anyone what I think about any of this?" he shouted at her, self-loathing lacing every word. "And besides, I can hardly congragulate myself on that point, after I did the flonqing thing's work for it, all those years--"
"What would its 'work' be?" she asked, her voice still preternaturally calm.
He started to laugh. This time, he didn't even bother trying to fight it. "Oh, better to ask what WOULDN'T its work be, Dom--much better! Fixing elections, making sure certain scientific discoveries catch on or get discarded, starting wars, stopping wars--deciding who lives and who dies! Are you starting to get the picture, here? Basically, warping a few dozen different eras to suit our 'needs'!"
Her expression was tight, rigid. He couldn't even feel her reaction along the psi-link, she was controlling herself so carefully.
He wanted a reaction. He wanted her to shout at him, tell him what a fool he'd been--wanted someone, anyone, to hate him for going along with this for so long!
Then he thought of a way.
"Computer," he said through gritted teeth. "Activate Record. Full interface."
The emitter rose into the air, and projected the image of the Record's interface. Its 'voice' and 'face', programmed by Blaquesmith all those years ago. He'd tried to reprogram the interface countless times, without success. He had never been allowed access to the Record's core program, and he'd never been able to break the layers upon layers of encryption. Blaquesmith's choice for the interface had been very deliberate, and the old Askani hadn't been about to let him flout that decision.
"Hello, Nathan," Aliya said. "How may I be of assistance?"
And the memories reached up and swept him away. One after the other, each worse than the one before--
--watching as a car bomb took out a scientist who had been working on a technique to reverse genetic mutation. Watching as the bomb exploded, killing not only him, but his family as well. That last moment's glimpse of the man's four year-old daughter, her round, smiling little face pressed up against the window--
--walking through the remains of an African village, ignoring the horribly mutilated bodies of women and children in order to find the body of the local 'warlord', to make sure he'd died in the attack that his enemies had launched on the basis of intelligence given to them by the network. Trying to ignore the smell that nearly choked him, the sounds of flies buzzing in the hot midday sun--
--lying atop a roof, watching his target through the sights of his plasma rifle. A smiling, dark-haired woman, halfway through a pregnancy. Aliya--*the Record's!*--voice in his ear, calmly explaining that the child would grow up to design a new breed of Sentinels. *Necessary things are often difficult, Nathan. It must be done--* His finger, slowly squeezing the trigger--
Cold-blooded murder, done in a dozen different eras. Atrocities sanctioned, often covertly aided. People cajoled, persuaded, and often simply forced down paths they never would have chosen for themselves, all for the greater good. Heroes turned into monsters, monsters made to look like heroes--lives shattered and twisted at every turn. Manipulation on a grand scale, reweaving the tapestry of history with no thought to the threads that got broken in the process.
No right, no wrong. Only necessity. A life lived in a hazy borderline of indistinct shades of grey, where the shadows stole your soul bit by bit, day after day--
"Nathan!"
He opened his eyes. He was on his knees, on the floor, Domino crouched in front of him. The image of Aliya was still standing there, smiling. Waiting.
"Computer--deactivate Record." His voice didn't sound like his own. The hologram vanished, and he looked around at Domino.
Waiting.
"What the hell just happened?" she asked, her voice tight with fury.
"Lost my balance," he said softly.
"Right! Bullshit!" She rose, glaring down at him with naked anger on her face and scorching down the psi-link. "Why the hell do I bother?"
He managed a ghost of a laugh. "Good question."
"You son of a bitch."
"Let's leave my mother out of this, okay? Although I'm sure some people would agree with you--" He forced himself to get up. It took a sheer act of will, and he wasn't entirely sure if his legs would hold him. The pain in his head was pounding away like a second pulse, and that core of ice inside his chest was growing, reaching out to take over the rest of his body as well.
"Nate--damn it! Talk to me!" Domino reached for him, but he flinched away. Too close; he couldn't deal with this anymore, couldn't let her in any farther than he had already. He had to be strong--had to be as hard as steel and as cold as ice, if he had any chance of making it through this mission. He couldn't afford any more exhausting emotional revelations.
Her violet eyes flashed. "Fine," she spat. "If you don't want to share, that's your prerogative. But I'll be damned if I'll put up with it anymore. I want you to shut down the psi-link."
All the strength drained out of him, like water.
"W-What?" he asked, taking a shaky step around her and leaning on the console for support.
***
The look on his face nearly broke her heart, but Domino held tightly to her resolve. "You heard me," she said in as level a voice as she could manage. "I can't deal with this anymore, Nate. You're not the only one who can't stand being helpless--"
"Dom, I--I don't--"
She cut him off in mid-protest. "You don't what?" she asked bitterly. "Want to talk? I gathered that. Trust me enough to let me help you deal with whatever's got you in such a state that you're acting like a zombie one minute and a psychotic lunatic the next? Guess what, Nate, I clued into that, too!"
"You don't understand!" His left eye flashed for a moment, before the light there died.
"You're right!" she said forcefully. "I don't. I want to, Nate, believe me, but if you won't let me in, I can't!"
Nathan's expression was strange, a mixture of half-suppressed yearning and a sardonic bitterness that set her teeth on edge. "You don't want to know what's going on in my head," he said, his voice even rougher than usual. "You really don't, Dom."
"Damn it!" she ranted at him. "Would you quit making decisions for me, Nate? How the hell would you know what I want? And don't give me any crap about the psi-link either--you're so wrapped up in your own problems at the moment that you wouldn't notice what I was feeling if I wrote it across my forehead!"
He opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if he didn't know what to say. All in all, a satisifying reaction, Domino thought almost savagely.
"If you're so determined to deal with this on your own, I can't stop you," she said, more calmly. "But you can't have it both ways, Nate. These hallucinations of yours, or whatever the hell they are--they're spilling over to me, too. You do realize that, right? I'm not going to be able to watch your back on this mission--and believe me, you need watching at this point--if I'm so distracted by what I'm picking up from you."
Something warned her that she'd taken the wrong approach, a moment before the shock on his face vanished and his expression hardened into impassive stone. "I suppose you have a point," he said neutrally. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. It's not your problem."
"Nate, damn it--I want to help you!" she tried once more, desperately. Shit! She hadn't wanted to present this as the only alternative--
By then, though, it was too late.
***
He knew what he was giving up, here. His last link to a sane world--a sane mind? a nasty voice sniggered in the back of his head. But Dom had given him a choice. A choice that wasn't a choice, which made things more simple. He could tell her everything, or he could shut down the link. The former was out, for obvious reasons, so the latter was the only option. Maybe that made him a coward--
Yes, that did make him a coward. But there was no other way.
He took a deep breath, and reached out along the psi-link, closing it down. Not breaking it--he couldn't bring himself to do that, couldn't bear the thought of the void it would leave behind--but sealing it, as he had so briefly back at the mansion. As soon as he did, the pain in his head seemed to redouble, and only his grip on the edge of the console and the last vestiges of stubborn pride kept him upright.
But oath, he hadn't realized--hadn't known how much strength he was drawing from her. He felt dizzy and weak, worse than he had since those first few days out of bed after he'd been hurt. Nathan Summers, the psychic vampire, he thought dazedly, despising himself for what he'd been doing.
He heard her indrawn breath. "It's done," he said curtly, pulling together the last, fragile remains of his shields, and trying not to sense her thoughts, tinged as they were with frustration, sadness, and the tiniest flicker of ashamed relief. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got some more work to do here." He wanted her out of here. Now. Before he fell flat on his face.
"Nate--" There was a world of pain in that one soft word. "This doesn't change anything. We can still talk about this--"
Talk. When had that ever settled anything? He didn't have the energy to run around in circles at the moment. "I'll see you in a while," he said, and stared down at the console.
She stiffened, and he flinched as he realized how badly he'd hurt her with that cold dismissal. Dom might have an inhuman amount of patience, to have put up with him for all these years, but it wasn't an infinite supply. "No one ever accused me of not being able to take a hint," she snapped, and gave him one last penetrating look before she turned.
And left.
The door slid shut behind her, and Nathan leaned forward over the console, his grip tightening until the metal actually dented. "Shit," he whispered, his eyes blurring with tears. "Oh, that was beautiful. Just beautiful. You stupid son of a--"
The Record chose that nicely inopportune moment to switch itself back on. "Warning," it said in Aliya's resonant voice. "Unexpected nexus detected. Five point variation--"
Rage exploded inside him, like a volcano. With a roar that was part defiance, part heartbroken fury, he grabbed the chair, ripping it off its base, and smashed it against the console.
The Record continued to deliver its warning, and Cable sank to his knees, his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block it out. Trying not to listen--
And trying, very hard, to stop crying.
***
Tyris had never been so cold in her life. The white substance was still falling, and enough of it had accumulated to make walking difficult.
Walking, she thought disgustedly. Since when did members of the Askani Sisterhood walk? Under any other circumstances, she could have been across this entire continent in the blink of an eye, with something less than a conscious effort.
Instead, she was relegated to stumbling blindly through these fields, trying to ignore the wind and the cold. Her own consolation was that Hana--IF she was alive--was probably having just as much difficulty getting around. It might be petty, but it was certainly satisfying.
The temporal flux was simply adding insult to injury. Another period of distortion began, the air around her shimmering and thickening, and Tyris fell to her knees with a groan, telling her rebellious stomach that yes, it WOULD behave itself. She'd never thought she'd come to a day when her chronal-variant ability was such a disadvantage.
Insane, all of this--even En Sabah Nur couldn't have possibly meant to do THIS! What would it gain him?
#Very little, I would think. If he had intended this to happen.#
Tyris pulled herself back to her feet, looking around sharply as she instinctively threw up a telekinetic shield. #Who is there?# she demanded.
A sweet laugh echoed in the wind. #Why, who do you think, my dear child?#
Abruptly, Tyris felt colder. #Show yourself,# she sent, trying not to betray any reaction.
Again, that bell-like laugh as a glowing form took shape in front of her. Robed in purple, a kindly look on her face, Madame Sanctity smiled down on her.
#I thought I would 'favor' you with a visitation, child,# Sanctity said, warmly. #Those who do the Sisterhood's vital work in other times are always in need of guidance.#
Tyris found her voice again. "Your guidance?" she said aloud, incredulously. "Yours, you murderous, traitorous BITCH? Is that supposed to be a FLONQING JOKE?"
Some unreadable expression flickered in Sanctity's eyes, but her smile only grew. #Dear girl. How I've missed you.#
"I find that very difficult to believe!" Tyris snarled. But that momentary flash of anger had been replaced by real fear as she studied Sanctity's astral manifestation. It was as stable as if the madwoman was standing right here in the flesh. Stable, as the Mother Askani's had not been.
Which could only mean that Sanctity was using something besides her own power, to reach across the centuries. Not something, Tyris corrected herself grimly. Someone. Several someones.
The witch was merged.
Which put Tyris at a marked disadvantage, to state things mildly.
#You shouldn't doubt my motives, my dear,# Sanctity said gently. #Was it not I who found you, who brought you into the Sisterhood?#
Tyris stiffened. #Whatever gratitude I felt towards you for that is long since gone,# she sent back harshly. #So if you're attempting to appeal to it, do not bother!#
Sanctity sighed, sorrowfully. #Your anger pains me, child.#
#Don't make me laugh,# Tyris said scornfully, and turned away.
Suddenly Sanctity's astral form was in front of her, the expression on the glowing face disapproving. #You would turn your back on me, child? On me?#
#No,# Tyris sent back, as nonchalantly as she could. #I'd much rather kill you, but since you're not really here--#
Sanctity laughed. #Such arrogance! Remember to whom you speak, Tyris.# Her astral form seemed to darken, grow more threatening. #Without me, you would have lived out your life on the street, yet another broken victim of the High Lord's atrocities. I gave you a purpose, a way to fight back--#
Tyris straightened, glaring. #The Mother Askani gave me that,# she said deliberately. #What little you gave me, you tried to take away again when you broke the Sisterhood. I will never, NEVER forgive you for that.#
#Vows made in haste are often repented at leisure,# Sanctity said coldly. #Be careful what you say, Tyris.#
Tyris smiled savagely, part of her glad that Sanctity dropped the pretense. Any battle, even a hopeless one, was best fought in the open. "Go flonq yourself," she said pleasantly. "Or dine on excrement and choke. Whatever you prefer."
#Pardon me?#
"You heard me, oathbreaker," Tyris said, a certain recklessness overcoming her. "I serve the Mother Askani, I carry my psimitar in Dayspring's name. I owe you nothing. No courtesy, no loyalty. Nothing but hatred."
Sanctity was silent for a moment. #Your siondahri pride will be the death of you, child,# she finally said, almost mildly.
Tyris threw up all her shields, and ran.
It was the only option left to her. The false sisters merged with Sanctity might be able to lend her the power to pierce the veil of interference and manifest fully in this time, but mobility--and the length of her astral form's 'reach'--would still be vastly restricted. If she could just get far enough away--
The first attack nearly buckled her shields. Tyris tasted blood, realizing she'd bit through her lower lip, but she forced herself to continue, even as she reeled from the sheer brutality of the psionic assault.
Another attack, and another--Tyris could hear her own heart racing, the sound of her own ragged breathing as the Sanctity-merge deliberately 'leaned' on her pain center, trying to drop her in her tracks, to stop her from escaping.
But she was Askani. More than that, she was siondahri. She would not--could not give up.
The next strike smashed through her shields, but Tyris felt the strain behind the attack, and kept running, staggering onwards, knowing she had to be close to the edge of Sanctity's range. Bright Lady, help me--just a little farther--
Then she was stumbling down into and back out of a shallow ditch, empty of the tall, leafy plants that filled the fields. There was a sharp blare of noise, and Tyris saw a pair of lights, like great glowing eyes, coming at her.
Something struck her, throwing her into the air. There was a moment of pain, and then nothing.
to be continued...
[FOOTER]