Ghosts of the Federation
*~^~*~^~*
Ezra settled back into his seat and watched the bickering begin again as one by one the room filled up again. Chris was off in some hazy dreamworld, the sort of place that crazy people went when their meds weren't adjusted quite right, he thought acidly.
The others in this deeply unlikely band of heroes were gathering quietly. No sign of their daredevil federale -- Ezra mentally tagged him as 'mostly likely to die young' and decided to not worry about him. Tanner had slunk back in -- a neat trick, considering Ezra's training in observation, that the man -- cybe -- managed to sneak in under the radar just about every time. The wall was empty, and a few minutes later, Tanner was there without seeming to actually take the time to arrive. He wondered if the man had had fun putting the fed to bed, and made a note to ask at some socially awkward moment.
Jackson was another matter entirely. He hadn't seen a glimmer of humor from him. The man had done his job without allowing his prejudices against technology to stop him, but...
Ezra sat back and enjoyed as the man worked his way slowly through the cyborgs, politely smiling and nodding, his discomfort tightly tamped down. In a way he could admire the commitment to his calling that allowed the man to consult with cybes as though they were real people while almost certainly not thinking of them that way. He wondered briefly how the man stood on cyborg ownership. Maybe he'd be a good partner if Ezra ever changed his mind about looking to the future -- his financially secure future. Or maybe not.
All there but the crazy old guy. A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder and a low, deep voice said, "Good evening." Ezra jerked in his seat before he could stop himself. His irritated glare over his shoulder met a knowing, unsmiling look from Josiah, and he jerked his shoulder away from that dangerous touch.
What could a priest learn from a touch? Too much. Priest Inquisitors had been his downfall once already. For a moment he was back on the Church Justiciar's ship, in high orbit above Borealis Ultra, damp sweating hands pressed to his face, his mind wrung dry and still tumbling helplessly...
Josiah stepped back, took a seat, and then, only then, let his pale gaze disengage from Ezra's, looking deliberately away and down, some hint of shame perhaps. What was he trying to say? Anything? Nothing? Was he a renegade priest or was he watching, reporting, telling the Justiciars his every thought...
Ezra wasn't ungrateful to have his line of thought broken when Joche walked back in, his face stern and clouded. The room seemed to grow bigger as everybody took their seats, conversations tapering off as people noticed him, turning to wait for whatever he had to say. Under the pressure of external distraction the nagging sensation of unseen eyes dwindled, the tension fading from his body despite the impending violence. Ezra watched him thoughtfully. Here was the core and crux of it. Joche held both the prize and the failure in his hands.
The old man looked tired behind his closed off expression, and Ezra wondered what had worn him so in the hour since they had last seen him.
"Bad news?" he asked impulsively across the murmuring conversations.
Joche looked at him sharply then visibly shrugged off the grim pall surrounding him, the lines smoothing, the -- fear? -- vanishing behind a mask. "News of an old friend." He dismissed it and rapped his knuckles on the table. "Can I have your attention?" he said quietly.
Ezra was impressed. Joche's voice seemed soft, but it brought every last person in the room to silence in seconds.
"Thank you." Joche looked around slowly, folding his hands before him on the table, meeting each person's eyes in turn. Ezra felt as the dark eyes settled on him that he was being weighed and found wanting. "We are on our own here. Those present right now, everyone currently in the mountain, are all that we are likely to have in the way of allies," he said. He made no differential between cybe and human, between adult and child, even though Ezra had expected some sort of comment. But then -- he thought of the child who supposedly was so willing to suicide in the cause of saving her friends and family -- this was a battle for every one of them. Their lives and sacred honor, the few, standing before the storm. Joche spoke again and he shrugged off the flight of fancy, and wondered just how many other clichés he could cram in. He bit down on a grin.
"Steven Apman demands a tithe of us," Joche said. "We--"
"Call it what it is: he wants slaves; docile, sellable slaves," one of the cybes muttered, and Ezra noted his face.
"Slaves. Yes." Joche looked down for a second, and back up, and Ezra found himself admiring the old man, even as he wished he'd just get on with it. "This is not your fight." He looked at Chris, Ezra, Nathan, then Josiah. "Lao peng yu, you do not have to stand with us."
Josiah shook his head. "No better place to be."
Ezra rolled his eyes. "Whereas I have any number of better places to be, and a tragic inability to reach them," he said lightly. "A last stand in a lost desert in the arse end of nowhere doesn't strike me as my first choice in the exciting things to do with my evening options. And yet, how can I resist?"
"We'll make up for the lack of entertainment shortly," Zhou Yu said with a quick smile and Ezra grinned back. Well, better to put a good face on it, than do the right thing and complain about it the whole damn time. Although, there was nothing to stop him doing both, given sufficient time and incentive. Hmm.
"You need me. If my hands can help, then you've got them, for as long as they can do some good," Nathan said after a quick, irritated scowl in Ezra's direction. Ezra smiled mockingly back and lounged as best he could in his chair, ignoring the discomfort, and enjoying the frustrated annoyance on the good doctor's face. It didn't make up for the rough and ready nose job, oh no. But it was a beginning.
"I stay," Chris looked challengingly around the room, daring anyone to speak.
"Chris, it is just a matter of time," Josiah said. "You don't have to --"
"I stay," he said flatly. "Buck's here. I'm here."
Ezra rolled his eyes. "Buck's here." He looked around ostentatiously, "And yet, rather like the emperor's new clothes, I persist in seeing only thin air." He waved a dismissive hand before Chris could speak. "No matter. The enemy dies regardless of the sanity of those shooting at them. As long as you remember to point the gun the right direction, we'll get along well enough," he said dryly.
"I could make an exception," Chris said, dry as dust, and Ezra caught a hint of amusement in the cool grey eyes. Well now. He nodded fractionally, acknowledging the hit.
"One thing at a time, di di." Josiah spoke softly but his hand on Chris's shoulder showed white at the fingertips and knuckles. Ezra spared a moment to be impressed that Larabee didn't even seem to notice.
"All this jawing's getting us pretty much nowhere but in circles. We agreed a deal, remember?" Chris flashed a scathing look at the other four. "Let's be about it."
Ezra examined his fingernails, "For a reward."
"You'll get yours," one of the other cyborgs muttered, and Ezra glanced at him. Garen.
"That's what I was afraid of," Ezra replied pointedly and at a sudden, abortive movement from Josiah beside him, subsided. "As you please."
Joche looked up at Vin, who took a chair, turned it, and sat, resting his folded arms along the back. "Apman," he agreed. Interesting that Joche didn't question whether Vin would stay or not. Of course, they were both cybes. Some sort of familial trust in the sanctity of Vin's 'deal', Ezra supposed. It made men do the most inconvenient things sometimes. He felt himself fortunate in the lack, really he did.
"Who's out there?" Vin asked, and the tenor of the room changed.
"Our most recent data suggests that," Joche touched the table and a map lit on it, "he has surveillance teams here--" he tapped a red spot and it lit brightly, "here, and here." The teams were spaced about 120 degree angle on a circle around the Medjai site. "Externals show their main forces are on the move. There is a skeleton staff at their primary base," he glanced up at the others, "where we were held, and the bulk of their forces are aiming towards what we believe will be their final position here." He swept his hand in an arc outside the mountain, to the rear of two of the surveillance teams.
"What sort of condition is the primary base in?" Garen asked.
Joche smiled and directed attention to his colleague. "Zhou Yu?"
"Satellite pictures show several buildings have been seriously compromised." She tilted a smile at the questioner, "I think we can safely call it their former primary base, Garen."
Chris shook his head. "You've forced their hand. I'm not so sure that's a good thing."
"I don't remember you complaining about breaking out of the damn place," Ezra muttered.
Chris's eyes were hard and unrelenting. "They've got nowhere to retreat to, and nothing left to lose. That's not a good enemy to be facing."
Josiah shrugged, "We don't know that." He stared at the map. "There are other places that we might yet regret overlooking."
"Such as?" Zhou Yu asked. Josiah shrugged.
"Home of the damned."
Ezra caught Zhou Yu's eye and he rather thought she found it as hard as he to keep a straight face.
"If we can maneuver them into approaching up the gully again," he traced a line into the main entrance of the base, "we might have a chance to pin them," Garen said into the awkward silence. "Up here." He tapped the front door of the complex, and Ezra frowned. Impossible they should fall for that twice, surely.
"They'd never do it, they already know the cannon's at the other end," Vin drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "We should move the cannon. Can give ourselves more of tactical advantage if they aren't expecting it."
"Are there any other ways in?" Chris asked. Ezra thought of the multiplicity of tunnels leading to the surface and winced.
"Several, from what I could judge," he said. "I've visited one or two myself."
"Don't worry about them," Zhou Yu said.
"Don't neglect your rear. Last thing you want is a war on two fronts. And corridor fighting is a damn sight less fun than it looks in the arenas," Chris said sharply.
"Oh, they can come at us from behind if they want to," she grinned, a cold expression, bright with anticipation. "I'm going to enjoy seeing them try."
"We have -- negated -- certain routes up into the mountain," Joche said mildly. The reproving look that the cyborg leader bent on his guerilla tactics commander made Ezra rub his hand over his face to conceal his sudden grin. Insane military risk-taking and crazed blood lust. Very rational. Why was he on their side again?
"Negated?" Jackson was leaning in, half fascinated, half horrified.
"Blind alleys; booby trapped chicanes; mined corridors; deadfalls; surprises galore," Zhou Yu counted off, eyed them -- the non-cybe outsiders -- as though she'd just thought of it. "I'll need a deenay print off each of you before we let you wander as you please." Ezra winced. She wasn't -- she *was* implying that his moonlit walk could have ended in his death. Bombed to bits by his own side. "Not yours, Standish," she added, with a crooked smile, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. Great. He was in no danger -- except of being cloned against his will. Or having a bio-agent tailored to his dna. Lovely.
"And on our side?" Vin asked.
Joche looked at Zhou Yu, who sighed and perched one hip on the arm of a chair rather than sitting in it. "We -- have finite resources."
"What sort of resources?" Vin asked, as Ezra spoke.
"More to the point, how 'finite'?"
He wasn't entirely sure what lay behind the intent look she turned on him. "The generators only carry so much power," she said blandly. "We have hydrogen cells, of course, and alternate sources, but much of the off/def gear is resource heavy."
"That jaunt of yours just now ate through two cells," Joche added after a pause. A pause Ezra strongly suspected had included a swift conversation on cyborg levels that he had no access to despite the transmitter they'd lent him.
Ezra blinked. That fast? "I only fired three times."
"The anti-combat shields run very hot. And the tangle cannon eats cells for breakfast."
"It shouldn't get through one in three shots," Vin said. "What else have you got?"
"We have twelve levels; seven under, five above ground level," Zhou Yu began briskly. "Every level has at least four exits. Two external, two internal. The majority are unoccupied, and non-combatants have been moved to the safety zone in one of the deeper levels." An image of an octagonal tower, broader at its base than its tip appeared on the table. "Level one and two are the hanger and weaponry areas. The majority of action is expected to take place there. We have placed charges here," a corridor lit in the lower areas, "and here. By collapsing sub level one into sublevel two we believe that we can successfully conceal the deeper layers from Apman's attack."
Ezra swallowed. Don't be on sub levels one or two, he noted.
"There a signal for clearing the levels?" Chris asked.
Zhou Yu shook her head. "If it comes to hand combat in the corridors we don't want to give any warning. It will occur in concert with any incursion into those areas, we hope to suggest that the floor was mined to take out invaders and that the lower floor collapsed due to the mines, rather than just to conceal the underground levels."
Chris simply nodded. "The fed needs to go with the non-combatants," he said abruptly.
"That's his choice," Joche held Chris's increasingly angry glare until the man looked away. "I'll talk to him."
"There are other diversions in place," Zhou Yu went on, ignoring the side argument. "Each group should take their assigned blocks. We have finite resources, use them thoughtfully. Personal weapons will be issued with power packs immediately after this briefing. Tanner, your group will come with me."
Vin nodded again, and although the others, Ezra included, moved uneasily none of them protested the cyborg's leadership.
"We don't know how much weaponry they have themselves. Joche took what he could while held, but their security was good. Very good."
"Get the kid on it," Vin said unexpectedly. "Dunne."
Zhou Yu raised an eyebrow at him, and then nodded. "Noted. Limited time frame for this information, so don't expect it. We have some ballistics, but mostly, we're operating off powered weaponry, primarily tangle and laser. You will be issued with extra power packs for your assigned toys. You know the drill -- dump for recharge as soon as you take it out. There are no extras beyond what we are issuing. Don't lose them."
"What about the fixed guns?" Ezra asked. "The cannon." Was he going to get to fire it again? And surely they had more than one?
Zhou Yu simply smiled enigmatically, which stuck the problem under the tag of things that had been classified out of his need to know. Very well. "Perhaps one of us should go wake our fine federal friend, start him on slicing the data Mr. Mendeleyev brought back," he said directly to Vin, hoping to push him a little off balance. Vin smiled at him.
"Best he sleep for now. He'll have better luck once he's rested," he said simply, and looked back to Joche. "What's their rate of approach?"
"Zhou Yu?"
"We've got some time yet. Taking out their drop boat seems to have given them to think," Zhou Yu said, and Vin nodded.
"You got an approximate time yet?" another cyborg asked, and Zhou Yu nodded.
"No sooner than oh four hundred. Nine hours. We're watching closely, and by the time they are within effective ground range, we can eyeball then, not rely on EM."
"Best to sit tight and let them come to us then," the cybe sat back, looking satisfied. "If they try to come in in the dark we have the advantage, and regardless we have the high ground."
"Not that we could go anywhere if we were so minded," Ezra muttered.
Zhou Yu favored him with a bright, cheery smile. "Well, there is that."
Chris leaned forwards and ran a finger over the leading edge of the advancing troops. "Can we do anything to help keep them back?"
"What sort of thing did you have in mind?" Zhou Yu asked.
Chris leaned back and smiled slowly. "I was just thinking about how my Momma always said waste not, want not." He dug in his pocket and produced a half dozen strips of cenemol.
Ezra's eyebrows twitched up, even as Joche's hands slid into his pockets and came up empty. "You picked my pockets?"
"You weren't interested in the cenemol back in that hole, now were you?" Chris gave a tiny grin, and picked up one of the brightly colored, die stamped strips. "Pretty things. I figured we'd need 'em if those guys got too close."
Ezra gaped. "They walked above our heads. Just how close would too close have been?"
"Oh, closer than they were," Chris drawled, flipping the cenemol from hand to hand. Ezra wasn't the only one whose eyes followed its arc anxiously. "They've got finite men."
"We estimate no more than a hundred, and possibly as few as forty. Full Mercenary Guild complement, which means cybes, which means we're fighting our own, but we knew that." Zhou Yu looked down for a second, and Joche's hand brushed her forearm. "Better yet," her voice firmed, "they know that. If we can slice their comms, we may even be able to deal direct with them."
A murmur arose, the idea seemed to please the cybes, and Ezra shook his head. Somehow, he'd been more comfortable with the idea of them as blood thirsty monsters. Though seeing the children had gone some way to dispelling that, they were children. not old enough to be indoctrinated. Cyborgs were bred to fight. Somehow, it didn't seem natural for one to advocate a peaceful resolution. Like a donkey learning to fly.
Or a grounder learning to sky-dance, he thought, and half smiled. Let them rise up against their training. If it irked their creators half as much as his own small rebellions had irked his mother then it was a task well worth the endeavor.
"Further briefings will be directly with your team leaders. " Zhou Yu dipped her head in a small gesture of respect. "I wish you all luck." She stood and there was a general scraping of chairs. "Dismissed."
*~^~*~^~*
Chris shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the room cleared. The meeting was over, and the others were waiting, Tanner and Standish in their sets, Josiah talking quietly to the old man; Jackson standing, waiting nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.
Do or die. Even, do and die.
He reached with his mind, unwilling to let go of the dwindling contact with Buck. With whatever it was of Buck that that damned fed had locked in his brain. Less than Buck's avatar, but still a lingering sense of the man.
The scent of him was faint, almost lost in the morass of minds that had filled the meeting. He'd had to shut down so far to stop himself from being overwhelmed that he'd almost lost that Whatever it was that JD's sleeping mind was generating, he was soaking it up with desperate urgency. Buck, Buck, Buck...
"He's not real, you know," someone whispered, and Chris jumped. He suppressed the motion almost before it happened, but Vin's sharp eyes had caught it anyway. "No more than a ghost."
"A little more than a ghost," Chris countered. A whole lot more than a ghost. It was almost like having him back. If he could get JD to just co-operate it could be like the old days. Almost like. He wondered what he could use to persuade the fed. Drugs... money... mind pressure.
So tempting. So, so tempting. So close, but without touch it was -- Buck had meant touch. So much so, the thought of him was like a touch to the soul, every memory seemed to include a tactile element. And now he had something more than a vid, something less than the real thing. He fingered the burns at his throat, foolish extremism. Back then, he hadn't cared. It was all gone. The interlocked rings were meaningless without the people he had cut them for.
Fire for fire.
What was Vin saying? He tuned the words out. The kid would be fine. He was still recovering from that shot a couple of days back -- puzzlement stirred him briefly -- it was only two and a half days at the most. Even with synth repairs he shouldn't be walking around. But when he was better, Chris could use him to keep Buck with him for good. Hell, maybe he didn't even need the kid. A little of his blood, and he could keep Buck for himself.
"Nate, could I get some of those nanites of his?" he asked. The room was quiet, confused as he talked straight across their strategizing. It didn't matter. As long as he lived, then he had Buck back. And if he died, well. He'd have Sarah and Adam back. Win -win.
"I--" Nathan hesitated, looking for inspiration from Josiah, of all people.
Josiah said nothing. Chris couldn't gauge the meaning of the blank face, those pale blue eyes like ice. He pushed, and found himself pushed back, hard.
"Stay in your own head, Chris," Josiah said, very, very softly, and Chris backed away. "Leave the nanites where they belong. Jedediah has his own part to play."
"You -- am I understanding this right?" Nathan said slowly, "You're surely not proposing that he keep on using JD to access that, that thing?" Jackson said. Chris blinked a little at his disgust. A doctor who was a techphobe? "Don't look at me like that!" he snapped, "I don't know what the hell's going on, or how you're doing it, but those damn nanites of his are eating him alive." Jackson glared around the room, daring anyone to gainsay him. "Well. I think they are," he added more temperately. "He's losing strength faster than he can recoup it." He let his eyes settle on Josiah and Chris watched the priest shift uneasily.
"It's necessary."
"Necessary? Necessary! You told him he shouldn't have done it! Make up your goddamned mind!"
Josiah sighed, and folded his hands in his lap. "Death comes to us all."
"Better it come quick than get eaten away molecule at a time," Vin said, blue eyes narrowed.
"One crow at a time," Josiah spread his hands.
"Well, I suppose on the bright side, the boy will probably die in battle before the nanites finish their meal," Ezra said brightly, and Josiah grinned at him happily.
"Just so."
Jackson looked up abruptly. "It doesn't matter anyway." He smiled broadly, "It can't be done." Ezra shook his head, then dropped his head into his hands; Vin winced. "They're bio-locked to his deenay. And there's no way to obtain undifferentiated nanites for you."
Chris stared at him until the smile dissolved off the doctor's face. "That makes you happy, I guess," he said softly. Jackson flinched, and a small, distant part of Chris saw it and was pleased.
Jackson seemed to catch the undertones, and shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just saying--"
"How convenient for you," Chris growled. He shook his head. It didn't matter. He would think of other ways. All things were possible, for a price. It just depended on what price he was willing to pay. Kidnap the fed, take him to Church space, get them to unlock the nanites. Get someone to build his own nanites, load Buck into them -- his own avatar, half his soul restored. Get the kid to let him have permanent access to his brain. Something. There must be some way...
"If you would like to come with me?" Zhou Yu said impatiently. "We don't have all night, and I have a couple of things you might like to see."
*~^~*~^~*
Vin smiled with satisfaction as he carefully laid the cenemol shards on the ground, then sprayed the catalyst over them. A couple of squirts left the chemical misting in the clear night air before it settled, glimmering wetly for a second. The cenemol flushed a deep green that faded to beige, and he dusted sand back over it, scooting back swiftly, just in case he'd mistimed it. He hadn't, of course. Very nice, he thought to himself, just try stepping on that, you fucker.
He straightened up; Chris was waiting, a dark figure, almost indistinguishable from the deep shadows save only for the dull glow of heat in the ir range cast by his face and hands. He was perfectly still in his position at the lip of the gully, his eyes shut, watching with his mind. Vin stared for a long moment, memory biting hard, but when the man's eyes opened as though sensing his gaze -- almost certainly sensing his gaze, he told himself -- he saw that glimmer of kinship, a stubborn soul still striving in spite of the universe. Whatever that echo of his own soul was, it eased the crawling fear. This man wasn't like any priest he'd known.
He shook himself, shouldering his thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time. He looked critically at the area, dipping into wider ends of the spectrum than most humans could use. The cenemol still showed hot, visible to the right eyes despite being concealed under dirt, sand and lumps of rock. The ground itself looked normal, untouched by human hand -- or anything else, he thought, suppressing his amusement. Good enough. He turned away. In minutes even the heat of the initial reaction would fade, and all that would be left was cold, unmarked sand, waiting for the weight of a foot or a vehicle.
No room for regrets.
"Good job," Chris said quietly, and walked away, heading further up the mountain. "Got any wire?" Vin tilted a surprised look at him, but nodded. "Good. Saw a good place to use it."
Fifteen minutes hard climbing later, Chris paused. "There." He gestured towards a cut at their feet, a dark hole in the mountainside. Vin nodded and dug in his pockets for the reel of monowire that Zhou Yu had given him, a replacement for the reel taken by Apman's cybes.
Vertical or horizontal, he mused, patting his pockets again. Something to hold it up. Aha!
"Yes." He settled in the lee of a boulder, and looked expectantly at Vin. "I leave the method to your discretion."
Vin shook his head. "A little faith, Larabee," he said mildly, "I know what I'm doing." He deliberately relaxed his tensed shoulders. It was just the usual arrogance of the Church. No one could ever manage anything unless a priest was hovering over it every step of the way.
"Buck would tell you," Chris said softly, his voice light and almost teasing, "that I was always an arrogant son of a bitch. Church didn't have nothing to do with it."
"Don't suppose it helped none," he threw back with a quick smile.
"Don't suppose they did, son," Chris said softly, and Vin looked sharply at him. Was this the real man, then? Almost sane sounding, a heard smile unreflected on his face, but, yes, there.
He hesitated, and then said casually, "I'm looking forward to meetin' this Buck of yours." And maybe offering a little payback on that punch he threw, come to think of it. VR or not. He rubbed at his jaw absently.
A real smile softened Chris's face for a second. "Not half as much as I am," he said.
Vin paused for a moment, ducked his head briefly. "Guess that's so," he allowed, and walked noiselessly to the dark gash in the mountainside. Below him it opened up into a space big enough to fly a good sized machine into. Unseen from the side, too narrow to approach straight on, but from above, a good place to drop a ground force. He checked their surroundings against his map of the installation below them. Not an immediate danger. Enough rock between this and the complex to allow for some pretty robust measures.
"You were right," he called softly, pitching his voice to carry no further than Chris's ears. Man could probably pick the words out the air if he thought loud enough. "There's enough space for a landing team. If they're stupid enough to land this far away from any of the entrances."
Chris's teeth shone briefly. "Never underestimate the other side's willingness to be stupid when there's a clear path."
"Point."
After a good look at the terrain and a moment or so waiting for his nanites to catch up, he pressed his left hand carefully to the rock face, and when it stuck, grinned and swung his weight onto it, slapping his other hand further down before the left released at a thought, finding toeholds to balance on, but mainly using the tech induced adhesion as he scrambled down. He dabbed a spot of mil-grade adhesive into a narrow crack in the rock face, tagged an end of monowire into it then ran a half concealed UV light over it. A moment later it was harder than the rock it was welded to, bonded deep enough to hold against anything, and he grinned.
He jumped to the ground, letting the wire unwind as he dropped. He repeated the procedure on the other side of the open area, and then again, until he'd made a three dimensional lattice some meters above the ground. It was lower than he liked, but he wasn't taking any chances on it being seen.
If the mercs were smart, they'd be scanning the ground, but that wouldn't necessarily pick up the wire. He smiled at the thought of Apman's men settling their transport down, and down, and gently, carefully slicing the vehicle -- and probably themselves -- apart as they did so.
He scooped a stone up off the ground and tossed it at the lattice, and grinned as it bounced and then fell, sliced into a dozen pieces.
He looked up. Chris was watching him from the edge above him. He flicked his eyebrows and Chris nodded once, expression cool, approving, unblinking. Not a friend. Vin wondered when the man would sleep; he would last longer than a human bound priest, psi gave no edge over weariness. Worse, the more Chris used it, the deeper he would dig into reserves they needed for the morning. But Chris, like all the priests he had ever known, refused to allow a hint of it to show through.
"You okay?"
Vin smiled ruefully. "That was going to be my line." He let the silence turn the question back on the questioner.
"We'll win." Absolute confidence that insisted that he was well; that Vin would survive; that Buck would return. Storming hell's own gates with the arrogance of the devil himself.
He looked away. He almost thought that if he could just hold out, not look -- he could breathe his own thoughts when he wasn't looking into those cool eyes. What of the others? What of the bodies left in the wake of Larabee's obsession? What of the free cyborgs trailing in his wake, sucked into the maelstrom he had brought down on them. And what of JD, trapped by Chris's madness? But when he was looking, when Larabee was standing right there... he had no doubts that they would win.
He knew better than to fall for it. Cheap tricks. Body language and psi force twisting the mind into fear. And yet --
He gathered himself and leapt for the edge of the gully. Chris dropped to one knee as he jumped, and grasped his wrist. His hand automatically wrapped around the priest's wrist, locking tight. The extra boost swung him up next to him easily and they paused. Vin slanted a look at Chris where he crouched beside him.
"Xiexie."
Chris shrugged. "You're welcome." He leaned his hand on Vin's shoulder, pushing himself to his feet wearily. The illusion of invulnerability, the omniscient, omnipotent priest shattered. Chris was just a man. Tired, scarred, eyes lined with worry, pain gouged deep into his mouth.
"Let's go."
He nodded and stood. "Got a plan?" he asked. It would work out. He'd figure something out, get rid of the avatar that was killing the kid; figure a way to save the cyborgs. Find Buck. Fix Chris.
All that, before breakfast, he mocked himself. Save the world, destroy the evil invaders and marry the princess while you're at it, why don't you?
Chris nodded, and with a sigh set off again. "Got some thoughts."
"Yeah?"
He wondered what it would be like if they ever found Buck. This narrow focus -- tightly wound rage harnessed to a purpose... would it be like that? Or would the anger leech out of him? And -- the thought struck him suddenly -- when had it become 'their' search, and not 'his'?
And was it for the priest or the fed that he had joined it?
"You should leave the kid to me," Chris said softly, and the illusion was broken.
"What? Why?"
Chris looked at him, but said only, "You going to get on with this or not?"
"Don't get the kid killed."
"Funny. That was going to be my line," Chris said coolly. Vin watched him, but there was no further comment, and he shrugged.
---------------
"These." Ezra tapped the screen in front of him. "Can you make them?"
Zhou Yu nodded, a faint smile on her face. "The extrusion facility should be able to do something with that."
Ezra smiled cheerfully. "Low tech, but an ancient and inglorious tradition of warfare has often found these to be somewhat entertaining for the besieged forces."
"I bet," Zhou Yu said. She sighed, and settled back into one of the hard plastic chairs. "You should get some sleep."
Ezra shrugged. "I suspect it would take a pharmaceutical intervention to put me to sleep right now."
"I can arrange that."
"Thank you, but no." He sighed, and let his mind drift. Seven against Thebes. Except they'd been on the outside of the fortress then. Hold the high ground, Ezra. Work with your strengths. Stay sharp.
Maud. Goosebumps ran over him, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising. She wouldn't approve of this. Dear god, she would be infuriated at his lack of self control, his failure to seize the opportunities offered to him. His presence in a last stand with those whom she believed to be little more than mechanical toys, programmable, biddable. Less than human.
Ah. So that was why he was staying.
*~^~*~^~*
He'd walked this path before. The long night.
Josiah silently paced Garen as they scattered spikes and caltrops on the ground. Plastic, invisible, painful.
Pitiful.
He looked up, tilting his head back. "Where are you, meimei," he murmured. He squinted thoughtfully. "I hear you. You're a long way from here."
"What?"
"Just talking to the blind," he said. Garen grunted, somehow conveying a world of eye rolling intolerance. Well, cyborg and churchman was not an easy mix. Probably why Zhou Yu had put them together. Tomorrow they would be side by side, but with death itself as their companion. Not the little night, with its dawn, but its greater sister, closing eyes into the long sleep. "The dead are a little closer." He looked to the north. Yes. Close.
He breathed deep, letting the sanity of the stars fill him. Muscles relaxed, creaked as they let go of long held tension.
Win or lose, tomorrow was the end of it.
Or the beginning.
*~^~*~^~*
JD woke. He reached blindly for the glass, and drank deep, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and the back of his hand on the blanket.
"Can't take you anywhere, kid," Buck whispered, and JD smiled. It was oddly comforting to not even have to open his eyes to see that friendly smile. "You need a damn keeper."
The job's taken, he thought, and then squashed it before it could be heard. What's going to happen? he asked, not even pretending to speak out loud.
"Ah, kid. If I knew that, why, I wouldn't be stuck here in your brain with you. Not that there isn't plenty of room."
JD laughed softly. With an ego the size of yours, it's just as well.
"Ego, schmego. That's one hundred percent justified Buck Wilmington, accept no substitutes."
Gege, you ain't nothing *but* ego and a bunch of alu-glass specks running around in my blood.
"Now, that's just getting picky."
Buck paused. As the silence grew, JD felt tension pulling at him. He opened his eyes. Buck looked just the same, only the backdrop changed, but somehow it was easier to glare with his eyes open. "What are you thinking, Buck?" he asked anxiously.
Buck shrugged a little. "This and that. Meaning of life. Nature of reality."
"The easy stuff," he quipped, but the joke fell flat. "Buck--"
"That's not -- I'm the dead guy," Buck said lowly. He looked at JD helplessly. "The ghost at the feast."
"No. No, Buck, it's not--"
Buck's face was serious, intent. "I'm killing you and half killing him." He gestured at the glass in JD's hand, and JD abortively moved to hide it, as though making the glass disappear would make it less true.
"Buck, don't-- he'll -- we'll find you. Put you back together. It'll be okay," he promised urgently, panicked by the strengthening resolution in Buck's face.
Buck laughed under his breath. "Hey, two Bucks, that's pretty much guaranteed to cause some sort of disaster. Buck and Anti-Buck. Next thing'll be the complete destruction of the universe from all that concentrated animal magnetism."
"So -- so wait for him to go, they'll leave, you know they will. You can stay once they've gone. Don't go, Buck."
Buck struggled to put on a smile. "Don't make it harder on us, boy." JD bit his lip, hard, and shifted sideways without thinking about it, into a virtual environment, perforce pulling Buck with him. You *know* what this," he gestured at himself, "is doing to him. And if putting an end to this is the only way..."
"Buck--"
"Don't take on so, JD. It won't be no different," Buck said gently. "You'll see. You're just making this harder on us all."
JD shook his head, and took a hesitant couple of steps towards him. Buck shook his head and wrapped him in a huge hug, and JD clung, tightly. " What'll I do without you?"
"I'm going to be right there."
"It won't be the same." What if we don't find you, what if you're *really** dead? What if it doesn't work?
"No. It won't." Buck agreed. JD cleared his throat, then had to clear it again. "It'll be better. And I guess you'll get used to me making contact when I hit you." He swiped at JD in demonstration, the slap to his back as real as anything in a virtual environment could be.
"I'm sorry." He didn't mean to grudge Buck his chance of happiness. But -- what if it didn't work?
Buck squeezed tighter. "Don't be sorry. Get back out there and give 'em hell, boy. Remember to watch your six."
"And you gotta promise me something?"
JD nodded, bracing himself.
"Quit making eyes at that pretty boy and do something about it."
"What?"
"And change out of that goddammed oh-shoot-me-now uniform."
JD laughed despite everything. "Buck, dammit!"
"See you on the other side, kid," Buck nodded, and turned away, and JD closed his eyes, closed the virtual room. Closed down everything.
It was just him, in an empty bunkroom, and the loneliness of his own head. He dropped his face onto his knees and didn't move for a long, long time.
Next
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.