#he’s like yes princess we’ll get you nuclear bombs

[inoghmia]

I’ve been really burned out and taking a break after a huge art project but I’ve been wanting to do a father-daughter Silco and Jinx piece for months so here’s this sketch :)

Happy Christmas to everyone btw!

[nalgenewhore]

A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away. 

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“It just can’t be. Have you double checked?”

Weylan Darrow’s disapproving face stared at Nox through the computer screen, Asterin sitting next to him with a blank expression.

“Yes, sir. Everyone in SatCon and the RPL checked them,” he replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “See, the images show both the rovers moving and the solar panels being cleaned. Modifications have been made to—”

“Modifications? What modifications?”

Sartaq Dalavtchai, the director of the Rocket Propulsion Lab, held up an image, “Galathynius took the battery off the second rover and attached it to the first, to double its power…”

Asterin spoke, finishing his sentence, “She’s trying to travel to the Mistward crater for The Crone.”

“Exactly, Asterin, or that’s what we believe is happening.”

“But the rover will only be able to travel a total of one-hundred kilometres and Mistward is… two-thousand at least. Not to mention, she’ll need to use the heater during the nights.”

Sartaq nodded, “You’re correct. Which is why we believe she is planning to attach the solar panels and…” he and Nox shared a look; they wouldn’t be happy to find out what she’d dug up.

“And?” Weylan prompted, wariness in his eyes. “And what?”

“Sir, she dug up the RTG.”

Asterin’s otherworldly eyes – the truest black flecked with brilliant gold – widened, “The plutonium battery?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat back in her chair, thinking aloud, “Well, it would be able to fully power the rover without needing to be charged.” As well as powering a nuclear bomb, but Asterin kept that to herself.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

“She’s what?” Manon barked, glaring through the computer at Nox, as if he had grossly offended her. “Who even is this, where’s the director of SatCon?”

Asterin calmed her cousin, “Stop being a dick, Manon, this is Nox Owens, he’s a satellite planner and the one who found out Aelin’s still alive.” She addressed Nox next with a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry about her, she hasn’t drunk the blood of a virgin for a while, she’s a little grouchy.”

Nox laughed, still terrified of the glaring woman, and Weylan shook his head from the opposite side of the table as Manon, as if thinking, Why did I hire so many witches?

“Please, continue, Nox,” Gavriel said, “where’s Aelin going?”

“Well, we’re not sure, sir. We believe she’s testing out her modifications on the rovers. She drives for thirteen hours, stops, and returns. We think the stops are to charge the batteries.”

Weylan frowned, he seemed to do that a lot. “But you said that she attached the solar cells to the top. Why would she need to re-charge and what about the RTG?”

Sartaq waved to introduce himself, “I can answer that. The solar cells are extremely delicate and the rover is designed to cross all sorts of rough terrain so she can’t have the solar cells out all the time because the risk of breaking them is higher. As for the generator,” he paused, rubbing his fingers over his jaw, “it’s good for spacecrafts but if it ruptures around humans… no more humans. Which is why she isn’t completely relying on it. And why we buried it, with a flag so we would know not to touch it.”

The Orynth team all nodded thoughtfully and Weylan asked, “Sartaq, what’s the fastest you can get a food probe ready?”

“Hmm,” the gears in his mind circled and he narrowed his eyes, “with the planetary positioning… nine months. We’ll need six months to build it in the first place—”

“Three months. Get it done.” Weylan held up his hand when Sartaq startled, looking to protest, “You’re going to say it can’t be done and I’ll give some speech about the immeasurable capabilities of the RPL team and you’ll say something like the overtime alone will be a nightmare.”

“The overtime alone will be a nightmare,” the harried rocket scientist mumbled, looking behind the camera at the rest of his team who were all shaking their heads and holding up a sign that read FUCK NO!!!

“Get it started, I’ll find you the money.”

Manon breathed out, trying to keep her anger in check, “It’s time to tell the crew.”

“Manon,” her boss started, his voice conveying his emotions on the topic they’d already discussed many, many times. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this. But I’m the crew director, I decide what’s best for the crew. They deserve to know,” she pressed, balling her hands into fists, her iron nails flashing for a second.

Gavriel shook his head, “I agree with Weylan, Manon. They need to concentrate on getting home safe.”

“Fuck all of you,” spat Manon, murder in her eyes. “Fuck all of you.”

“When we have a rescue plan, we’ll tell them. Until then, it’s useless. Sartaq has three months to get it done, be patient.”

“We’ll do our best,” Sartaq said, his face pale.

Manon turned her gaze on him, cocking her head to the side, “Aelin dies if you don’t.”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan couldn’t sleep.

Hadn’t been able to in the month following Aelin’s death.

He wanted more time. Not a lot, just five minutes, just enough to tell her he loved her with all that he was and would ever be.

There had always been some unspoken thing between them, it was impossible to stay away.

They’d loathed each other at the start.

Oh, she drove him crazy.

She seemed to know everything about everything and beat him to the first spot in their classes in the space program, utterly ruthless. At least, when Elide beat the two of them, she was tactful and humble, but Aelin…

She knew just how smart she was and refused to downplay it. Despite loathing her, it was always something he subconsciously admired of her.

She was a wildfire, unapologetic with her quest to get what she wanted, accepting nothing but the best of herself.

With her corn-silk hair and electric blue eyes, it was easy to peg her as a princess – a brat, only here on Daddy’s money.

Gods, he was an ass. It wasn’t until she had fled the dorms, crying after he’d insulted her by calling her a dumb blonde, looking for her Mrs. degree, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be here like the rest of them, and the verbal beating he’d received from Elide (arguably the most terrifying experience of his life – especially when Nesryn was forced to physically restrain the five-foot woman) that he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up.

Even Lorcan gave him a disgusted look and slapped him upside the head before Rowan chased after her and begged for forgiveness.

After… they weren’t friends but they weren’t at each other’s throats all the time either.

Everything had changed the night she’d stumbled into his room, high after smoking with Elide and Nesryn – a birthday tradition he was told – and he fell. Harder than he’d thought possible, irrevocably and irretrievably in love with her.

Rowan kept his eyes at the kitchen table, picking at his fingernails, refusing to look up as Fenrys and Lorcan sat down.

They stayed silent and for that, he was grateful. There were no words to say and so they sat, quiet until Rowan was ready.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Gavriel was absolutely exhausted.

It had been a long day, after flying to Perranth from Orynth and meeting with Nox, who he was currently sitting next to as they watched the satellites.

He could feel his eyes drooping shut. Slapping his cheek, a couple times, and draining the rest of his coffee, he sat up and tapped the screen, “Why is there a jump here?”

“Oh, because of how the orbits line up, there’s a thirteen-minute gap every thirty hours,” Nox explained, pushing his glasses onto the top of his head and rubbing his eyes.

“Where is she going,” Gavriel wondered, tracking the movement of the rover through every frame, “there’s out there except for…” he sat up straight, his tawny eyes wide. “I need a map.” With that, he was gone, making his way out of Satellite Control as Nox scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, not sure what was happening.

They sped-walked down a hallway until the cat-like man stopped abruptly and took down a framed image of the Anascaul crater, where the hab was located, and took a marker from his pocket as someone said, “Hey, man, you can’t just do that—”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Nox,” he addressed the younger man next to him, Nox’s mind still reeling, “what are the hab’s coordinates?”

He rattled them off and Gavriel marked them on the glass protecting the picture, drawing another mark halfway across the picture, in the opposite direction of the Mistward crater. He nodded to himself, “Alright. I know where she’s going. Where’s Sartaq?”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Nox still had absolutely no idea what was happening as he trailed after Gavriel and Sartaq through the lab. The dark-haired man said to Gavriel, “I got everyone who was here in ’03, which is when the probe went silent. I’d like to point out that it lasted three times longer—”

“Of course, Sartaq. No one is criticizing the RPL’s work, you’ve done an amazing job.” He shook hands with the three scientists, Malakai Scéalaí, Brulo Vojnik, and Philippa Bisset. “So, I’ll just get right to it. What’s the likelihood of Aelin getting it working again?”

Philippa answered him, “It’s hard to say, really. When we lost contact, we lost a data bank, so we were never able to figure out how it lasted as long as it did and why it stopped working.” She indicated the covered machinery behind him, “We have the replica all ready for you.”

Gavriel turned around and they pulled the tarp off to reveal the original Farnor probe – The Lord of The North.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin had been sitting outside the hab for an hour. She was so ready to just give up, but every time she thought about throwing a fit and stomping inside, Lorcan’s face appeared and his voice filled her head, insulting her and threatening her with gross bodily harm if she went the ‘pussy-ass-bitch’ route and gave up. Aelin had to stop herself from answering to him, not ready to be that kind of crazy.

She stared at the probe, praying for it to move to point to either one of the signs she’d written and stabbed in the earth after travelling to dig up another TNSB relic.

There were three signs in total, the closest one reading Yes, the middle one: Messages written here. Are you receiving? And the third: No, which was a little redundant because if they didn’t receive, they wouldn’t be able to point to any of the signs, let alone No.

The sun was setting and Aelin could feel herself nodding off, drained after her day and the emotional toll. Gods, I just want to go home, she prayed, take me home, please. She hadn’t let herself cry and it seemed she had put it off too much to control when her eyes grew wet and soon enough, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

A whirring noise interrupted her and she opened her eyes, her heart in her throat as the camera spun to… the left. Yes, they were receiving.

Aelin almost didn’t believe it and stood on surprisingly strong legs before taking one step and then another, but when the probe stayed on the ‘yes’ sign, she threw her arms up and roared of her victory to the high heavens, her voice breaking as the tears came faster and faster.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

“So, here’s the thing,” Aelin addressed the camera once again, eating oatmeal for dinner, and potatoes. She’d always loved oatmeal, loved to load it up with brown sugar and cream aplenty, to the confusion of every person she’d ever met. “We have to have serious astrophysical engineering conversations with a still frame camera that has a thirty-two-minute round trip communication time. Luckily,” she ate a bite, talking with her mouth full, “the camera does spin three-sixty so I can use an alphabet.”

She stood and walked her empty bowl over to the sink, scraping it clean, “It just can’t be ours because with twenty-six characters plus a question card gives me a twelve-degree arc, which is too narrow, we’d never know what it’s pointing at. Which means,” she spun, pointing her spoon at the camera, “hexadecimals to the rescue!”

She elaborated as she dragged Nesryn’s box into the frame, “Only sixteen characters gives me enough room and I’m hoping the geeks at RPL can send me some code so that the rover’s computer can communicate with TNSB. Fingers crossed.”

Sitting down, she held up a TSCII – Terrasen Standard Code for Information Interchange – table, “I figured one of you had to have an old TSCII table lying around and, ladies and gents, I give you super nerd: Nesryn Faliq. Mala above, Nes, you’re such a computer geek.”

The code had been developed from telegraph code and eventually formatted for the very first telephones and then evolving to computers. It used the decimal numbers – 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 – and six extra symbols, which were transmitted in binary code to be converted by computers.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

It had been three days since the probe first made contact with TNSB and Aelin had been right, the folks at RPL sent her instructions on how to hack the rover’s computer and with just a smidgen of code, they could now communicate by using the Lord of The North’s broadcasting system.

She’d told them what was happening and what had happened during the storm, reinforcing that it was not the crew’s fault.

Text appeared on the screen.

TNSB: Aelin, this is Gavriel Aryeh

TNSB: We’ve been watching you on the satellites for a while now, amazing job modifying the rovers and growing crops, we’re all rooting for you

LTN: I should hope you all want me to survive, Aelin replied, laughing to herself. Giddiness had taken over every emotion since they’d made contact.

TNSB: RPL is putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until The Crone

LTN: Glad to hear it, really excited about not dying

LTN: How’d the crew take it when they found out I was alive?

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: well that was a fun place to end on! till next time lovies and as always, let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list! 

@mythicaitt​ @kandasboi​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @that-other-pineapple​ @sleeping-and-books​ @superspiritfestival​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @chemicha​ @rowaelin-cressworth​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @candid-confetti​ @bat-wing-rhys​ @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear​ @feyrethedarklady​ @booklover41802​ @rowaelinforeverworld​ @jamesxdaisy​ @julemmaes​ @hellas-himself​ 

[thatbluegibson]

CH 23

“You literally live two houses away?” Liz asked, dropping her helmet on the seat of the sidecar.

“Yep,” Dave replied, watching the garage door close behind them. “And Taylor lives three houses down. We like to wave to each other from our decks.”

“Bunch of goddamn dorks,” Liz said just loud enough for him to hear.

Dave just smiled and held the door to the house for her. She tried to appear impassive, but every bit of her was on edge. Finding herself in a hallway, she watched Dave close the door behind them and walk right past her into the dark. A moment later, the room was flooded by several bright overhead lights causing Liz to shut her eyes tight.

“Shit, sorry,” she heard Dave mutter and the sound of light switches being flipped.

She opened one eye to see Dave standing in a starkly bare kitchen, his hand still adjusting a dimmer switch. Looking around, she was surprised at how normal the house was. The hallway she was in opened into a small front entry that led to the kitchen and dining room. Beyond the dining room and on the other side of the hallway wall was a living room with a couch, a stack of half empty boxes and a single acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. A staircase to the upstairs was directly across the entry way from the hallway Liz was in.

“It’s a little depressing,” Dave admitted, looking around. “I haven’t had time to find anything more permanent since I lived between a fucking airplane and bus all last year.”

Liz remained in the hallway, not sure what to say. She had just gone through all this herself, uprooting, relocating, readjusting… it all fucking sucked. She tried to imagine what she would want him to say if she had brought him over to her little farmhouse when it was empty and sad, then remembered it was just her that was empty and sad. Before she realized what she was doing, she ran up to Dave and wrapped her arms around his waist with such force that he staggered backwards into the counter behind him. She leaned her head into his chest and sighed.

Dave looked down at the top of Liz’s head, momentarily stunned by her embrace. He slowly draped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. They stood like that for awhile before Liz took a breath.

“At least you have a dishwasher,” she muttered.

Dave lifted his head and looked over at the stainless steel appliance next to them.

“You don’t have a dishwasher?” he asked, bewildered.

Liz shook her head against her chest. “I’d have to knock out an entire bank of cabinets and I’d rather not do that in the dead of winter.”

“Do you live on a fucking commune?” he asked. Who didn’t have a dishwasher?

He felt her laugh a little. “I live on a farm, dummy!” she looked up at him, but didn’t release her hold on his waist.

Dave’s eyes went wide for a second. “I’m just now realizing that I know very little to nothing about you, Liz.”

“All right,” Liz said, pulling away from him and leaning against the island across from him. “What do you want to know?”

Everything, he thought. “Start with this Farmer Liz business.”

She shrugged. “I bought a little farm north of my hometown. The schools are good, the neighbors are far away and the tractor came free.”

“Do you like, grow shit?” Dave was not prepared for this conversation, at all.

“No, the neighbors ‘grow shit’,” she laughed, “They have cattle and chickens.”

“Do you have chickens?” Dave leaned forward, for some inexplicable reason he was excited about the prospect of Liz owning chickens.

“A few! Just for the eggs and the bug control. I haven’t had to butcher one yet,” she explained as if it were a normal thing in the San Fernando Valley.

Dave made a face at the mention of butchering, but went on. “So you grow, what? Crops?”

Liz nodded, enjoying every look on his face. “Mostly alfalfa, but I have fruit trees, a good size vegetable patch and a greenhouse.”

Dave narrowed his eyes at her, “What’s in the greenhouse, Liz?”

“Weed,” she said simply.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I’m a licensed state producer!” her voice sounded a little defensive.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Dave said, stepping closer to her.

Liz just shook her head, now worried about his reaction.

He took a deep breath, “First I find out that you’re related to my bass player, then I find out that you’ve had some mystery plastic surgery, which I’m working up to so don’t think you’ll be skirting around that, Elizabeth,” she smiled as he poked her shoulder with his finger, “and then you decide to just drop the fucking nuclear bomb that you’re a goddamn weed farmer?”

Liz smiled at the incredulous look on his face. “It’s good weed, too,” she said quietly.

Dave threw his hands in the air, “I bet it fucking is!” he cried.

“You wanna hear about the brewery or should we leave that one for another day?” she laughed.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dave shook his head. “We’ll get back to that one in a bit. I have a mental list I’m trying to get through here.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling herself onto the island she was leaning on. She felt instantly more at ease at his eye level. “Let’s go.”

“Plastic surgery,” he pointed at her, “Go.”

“Boobs. I was 25 and it was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Next.”

Dave hesitated a moment, his mouth hanging open, trying to register what she just said. “They don’t look fake,” he said, glancing down at her white shirt.

“Not all boob jobs are triple D’s, dude,” she replied, looking down her own shirt.

“I’d like to come back to that one, but let’s move on” he said slowly. “What the fuck does your dad do to know DeGrasse Tyson?”

“Budget manager for a science foundation. He allocates federal funds into the proper ch-,” she stopped short when Dave interrupted her.

“Okay, that’s too complicated for me right now. Any tattoos? Felonies?”

“Yes and no. Next.”

“No, not next,” he waved a finger in her face and moved the one step closer so he was touching her legs. “Tattoo showdown. Now. Let’s go.”

Liz felt herself panic a little, then shoved her wrist towards him. Dave grabbed her forearm and ran his thumb over the delicate black feather on her wrist he had noticed the night he met her. She gently pushed him back a step and slid off the counter. Pulling up her shirt, she turned a bit so he could see Paul’s handwritten ‘Blackbird, fly’ lyric on her side just below her black bra strap. She felt a chill up her spine when he placed his hand on her rib cage and dragged his thumb over the ink.

“What, are you checking to make sure they don’t wipe off?” she quipped, trying to steady her breathing.

He ignored her question and traced the tattoo again, “Are they all Beatles related?”

She shook her head and dropped her shirt, but Dave kept his hand on her ribs. He slid his free hand under her jaw and pulled her to him. Just as she was about to kiss him, she whispered against his lips.

“I have all the lyrics to Rainbow in the Dark on my lower back.” She watched as his eyes half opened to look at her. “I really love Dio,” she breathed, still pressed against him.

Before she knew what was happening, he had her spun around and bent her over the island. He gripped her right forearm and used his left hand to move her shirt, exposing her tattoo-free lower back. Liz’s breathing faltered when she felt a distantly familiar heat pool between her thighs at his simultaneous aggression and gentleness. She laid her head against the cool counter top and closed her eyes. “You’re pretty aggressive for someone that played with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem,” she muttered. 

“It wasn’t Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, it was The Moopets. And you’re pretty fucking sassy for a Disney princess,” he replied, pulling her back upright.

Liz made a face at the princess reference, “Any other questions for me, Mr. Letterman?”

Dave put both his hands on the island on either side of Liz so his face was inches from hers.

“Tell me your name,” he tried, but Liz only smiled.

“Okay… What gang is Travis in?” he had overheard Nate earlier and didn’t like the sound of any of it.

“It’s not a gang, per say,” she shrugged. “My grandfather and his brother started a motorcycle club after the war and it turned into a… thing.”

“Hell’s Angels?” he felt a little nervous at the prospect of Liz being involved in something like that.

She laughed, “Fuck no. Just a bunch of guys that love bikes. They race and have chapters, but have no business other than charity stuff.”

“So your entire security team is a bunch of dudes with motorcycles.”

“Out of six, three of them are ex-military. Travis was a SEAL,” she said quietly.

Dave made a mental note to look all this up later. “Are you in this… what?… club?”

“Nope. No girls allowed,” she shrugged. “One of the original rules, ‘No dope, no dukes and no dames.”

“The fuck is a duke?”

“I was told it meant rich men that avoided the draft, but I think it evolved into meaning Ducati, since only allied-made bikes are allowed in.”

Dave stayed quiet, absorbing all the new information.

“Pops, my mom’s dad, taught me how to ride on a dirt track when I was six,” Liz said, her voice almost a whisper. “I crashed hard when I was nine, totally fucking up my side and Pops freaked out. He wrote my sister and me into the books and now every member, whether they know us or not, makes an oath to look after us. … which we hated,” she laughed a little, “Try going on a date when five massive Harley owners in leather vests are sitting in the next booth.”

Dave looked over her shoulder to his front door, “They aren’t here now, are they?” he feigned worry.

“No, Travis and I have a… comfortable agreement,” she laughed softly.

He searched her face for a moment. “Who was that kid next to you in Nate’s photo?” he asked quietly before immediately regretting it.

Liz’s eyes dilated before looking straight to the floor. She crossed her arms in front of herself and her breathing sped up.

“Whoa,” Dave stepped back, moving his hands to hold her upper arms. “We’ll skip that one, okay?”

Liz nodded quickly and shook her head. “Sorry,” she breathed, desperately fighting off a looming panic attack. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes still on the tile floor in front of her, then looked back up. Her green eyes were wide and a little afraid, Dave made a mental note to ask Nate who that kid was and what he did to cause a complete 180 in Liz.

“Better,” she forced a smile.

“We okay?” he asked, watching her eyes slowly return to normal.

She closed the space between them, put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we’re good.”

[thenewlittleprincess]

Stars Are Falling

Monday, December 15, 2025 4 pm and it's... TEDDY... DA... VINCI !" says an offstage announcer.

The band, mostly a set of horns, start up, with a tune that could have been a hit in 1938, in the days of Benny Goodman.

"Always ready Teddy here and welcome to the Teddy Da Vinci show. The big news story today:

'Will President Kat get the Nobel Prize?' Rumor has it that some Members of the Norwegian Parliament want to nominate our very own President Katherine Elizabeth Hemingway for a Nobel Prize.

"The one problem is... Which prize does she qualify for?

"Some want to nominate her for a literary prize.. Only problem is, she's never actually written a book... [Laughter from the audience] In fact, as a former primary school teacher, the last thing she wrote, in Chestnut Hills Elementary School, was probably something on the board like 'See Spot. See Spot run. Spot and Jane run.' [laughter from the audience] Now the question is, 'Are the Norwegians so desperate to give our first woman President a Nobel Prize that they will call that "literature"?' [laughter and applause from the audience] Well, they say books are dying.

"Some want to nominate her for a Nobel Economic Prize... Well, she's not exactly an economic theoretician, with her Bachelor of Education degree.. Wait, I know what she could get the economic prize for.. Getting a $ 130 trillion tax increase through Congress to cover a $ 3 trillion dollar deficit! Kat Hemingway has, for the first time, combined economics and magic... abracadabra and the money in your World Bank account just disappears! [laughter and applause from the audience]

"Some want to give her the Nobel Peace Prize because she proposed her 'Ploughshares Plan' to literally bury all the world's nuclear weapons. But . . . didn't they notice? Nobody actually wants to talk about that plan . . . Certainly none of the nuclear powers . . . Russia, China, India, Pakistan, Israel . . . Where are they? They kind of nodded and smiled [audience laughter] . . .  Like 'Uh huh . . .'. I think  they'd have to change the name of that Prize to the "Nobel Pipe Dreams For Peace Prize" to give her that award [laughter and applause from the audience]. Ah well, I guess you can't blame her for trying. . . .

"I think the New Little Princess has a better chance of getting a Nobel Peace Prize but they have to make a new name for the prize. I think she is the first child ever to have started a war! [applause from the audience]

"By the way, she'll be here later, to sing her last new song before her Christmas videopacks get released next week. So we'll ask her what she thinks of the President's action on Guatemala: will it help restore democracy in that troubled country? . . . "

The Princess' appearance is at the end of a long queue of actors, famous businessmen, politicians, even other top-of-the-chart singers. Teddy Da Vinci's been a Las Vegas-and-now-New York personality for a generation and only recently started this show to chat with his friends in public on the ICT. That the Princess is even here is a big step up for her. If the President had not said, this morning, "I want to thank the New Little Princess, because I didn't really understand what was happening on the ground in Guatemala until I saw the video she showed on the Carrie Woodlawn Show last week", and publicly invited her and her family to Christmas lunch at the White House in the media conference, she would never have got here.

When her Princesistos  and Princesistas on the ICT feel like they have been watching the boring hob-nobbing of Da Vinci and his peeps for an eon, after a commercial break, suddenly The New Little Princess skips on to the stage and comes over to Teddy's desk.

Teddy hugs the Princess and invites her to sit on his sofa with the famous people who are still there. She looks over in awe at them, having seen every one on the ICT, whether in movies, videos or on shows like this, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Several of them say "Hi", at which she gulps and says quietly, "Hola".

"Well, welcome, New Little Princess!" says Teddy. "I think you're no stranger to shows like this now."

"No, I'm on them every day now," says the Princess.

"And last week you were on Carrie Woodlawn, weren't you?" says Teddy.

"Aye," she says.

"And did you know the President was watching?" Teddy says.

The Princess sits on her hands, her eyes widen and she slowly shakes her head 'No'.

"And did you know she mentioned you today?"

The Princess flashes her Altrincham Cat grin and slowly nods.

"Yes," says Teddy. "And what do you think about what she announced for Guatemala today: quarantine, no-fly zone, air support for the revolutionary fighters there? Is that going to be enough to topple the military government there, that is.. not your favorite group o ' guys? "

The audience laugh.

The Princess hisses like a cat and says "They're no one's favorite group except murderers and thieves. For them, they're poster kiddies."

The audience laughs even louder.

"Truth be told, I dunno 'understand what the President is doin' there in Guatemala now. But the important thing is, after three months of talkin 'about it, she's doin' somethin '. That'll make other countries do somethin' and maybe, maybe, that's the beginning of the end for the Guatemalan junta ! " says the Princess.

The audience applaud.

"As for what she's doin', she's the President, not I, and, if we trust her - and I do - we've got to believe she's doin' the right thing. The only thing I want to say to her, in front of everyone, here and on the ICT, is 'Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! If the people of Guatemala have any chance it's because of you and your people, and people and leaders like you across the world," the Princess says.

The audience applaud again.

"Well," says Teddy. "And we hope that she does know what she's doing. And, if it works, maybe she will deserve that Nobel Peace Prize I talked about before."

"Dunno' want the War Prize, by the way," the Princess says, her eyebrows raised, looking like a teacher who's just caught someone cheating on the test.

The audience laugh.

"Oh, you heard that?" Teddy says, his eyes shifting left and right.

"Aye," says the Princess. "Do ya think I weren't listenin '? In the dressing room? Made me Mum shout at me.  'Now see what ya've gone and done? ' [mimicking her mother's Scottish brogue] "

Teddy clears his throat.

The audience laugh again.

"I dunno 'want to play War Child. I dunno' want to start a war between America and Guatemala. What ya've missed out is that there is already a war in Guatemala, between the junta  and the ordinary people. I want it stopped! But the only way it will stop is if countries like yours lock up the junta  or at least chase them out of power. Got it? " says the Princess.

Looking chastened and embarrassed, Teddy, the great actor he is, says "Yes, Miss Princess."

"So, then. Can I show me video now?" the Princess says.

"Uh ... yes ... sure Miss Princess," says Teddy, playing his role to the delight of the audience.

"There's no sound," the Princess says. "So I have to tell you what you're about to see. This was just taken by someone with a videocam in the street in GC - Guatemala City. Zero production. The trabajadores marched out of their factory because their wages aren't enough They are wavin 'their signs tellin' that, but it's all in Spanish, so you won't understand. It's a huelga : they shut down the factory and block the gates until they can get a rise in pay. Then came the Army and you can see what they do with no explanation. "

In the video, a lot of men are marching in the street waving signs. Then the Army arrives. There is some kind of shouting match. Suddenly, there is blood everywhere as bombs are dropped and the infantry open fire, even shooting the demonstrators in the back as they run. At the end, the street is clear but littered with the dead and dying.

The Princess' face looks like a delta.

"Have ya seen it? Have ya got it now? There's the war. It's not my war. That's what I - and now your President - is tryin' to stop. And you can try too."

The Princess wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, gulps and tries to sit up straight and speak clearly.

"Just send a contribution to the Guatemalan Freedom Fund. That's World Bank account GFF30749. G ... F ... F... 3. .. 0... 7... 4... 9. That goes to buy doctors and medicine for the victims like that. Plus food and clothing for the refugees and for the people fighting those soldiers. Plus guns and bullets. Until the President can knock out the junta  the people need all that," the Princess says.

"Well, you're certainly a great little salesgirl," Teddy says. "Now what about singing? Mark sang and Trini sang and Tina, your friend from Pina Colada, sang."

The Princess grins and waves her fingers at Tina Mendes, another Pina Colada starlet, but 12 years older. Tina smiles and waves back.  

"Aren't you going to sing?" Teddy asks.

"Of course!" says the Princess. "This will be me last chance to introduce a new song from me Princess At War videopack, comin' out next week. It's called 'Stars Are Fallin' and it's for me non-fans, or at least fans who never do anything."

"Never do what?" asks Teddy.

"Look," says the Princess. "Me Dad says like 20,000,000 people see me talk about Guatemala and ask them to put money in the Freedom Fund or send a message to their President to lock up the junta but only 2,000,000 people do anything. The other ones are sleepin'."

"Sleeping?" Teddy says.

"Must be," says the Princess. "So this song is to wake up the sleepin' dead, or dead sleepin', before they create millions really dead in Guatemala by doin' nowt but nowt. And get them to wake up and do somethin'!"

"OK, little Princess, it's your show," says Teddy, pointing to the other side of the stage where the Princess' Army wait with their instruments.

"Cheers, Teddy!" she says.

The audience applauds as the Princess skips over to her Mighty Synth and sits on her bench.

The Princess starts a few chords, with sound effects, on the synthesiser and one-by-one, the other instruments fall in behind her.

After the musical introduction, the Princess starts singing, putting chords between her lines, while the band carry the music.

Why are you sleepin'?

While the world is goin' mad

Why are you sleepin'?

When we're losin' everything

We ever thought we'd ever have

I sit here watchin' the sky

Watchin' the stars fall

And watchin' them die

Why are you sleepin'?

When you should be makin' history

Why are you sleepin'?

Why don't you just do somethin'

Like pick me up, take me and run away with me?

There's nothin' left for us here

Why not force the exit?

Run away from the fear

'Cos the stars are fallin'

Over me and you

The stars are fallin'

Nothin' we can do?

You say "Sh! I'm sleepin'"

Oh, yeah . . .

[Only organ chords on the synthesiser, quietly]

We are ridin' on a wave

Of livin' history

Where it's takin' us

Is a nightmare and a mystery

[Band resumes playing, full sound]

Everythin's gone sour

All the sweets have gone off

And when I scream at you

"Just do somethin'!"

You just look at me

And just cough . . .

[The music stops. The Princess covers her mouth with her hand and coughs, then rolls her eyes.]

[The music starts again]

[The Princess sings a full octave crescendo]  "Oh, Yeah-h-h-h? "

[Shouted] I say "Look but the stars are fallin'!"

[Singing again]

Over me and you

The stars are fallin'

Don't tell me that there's

Nothin' we can do

You say "Sh! I'm sleepin'"

Oh, yeah . . .

[Rapped]

And I shout "Yeah, right"

Done nothin' all day

And doin' nothin' all night. . . .

[Sung]

And you're fallin' . . .

You don't know but you're fallin' too . . .

[Softly, just synthesizer – organ sound - chords as Princess says quietly]

And nothin's happenin' . . .

I'm cryin'

You're still sleepin '

And my people are still dyin '

[Whispered, through tears]

Sleep tight

Good night

Hope you get your soul back

From the moonlight.

[Princess bursts into tears, crying into her hands]

[theeurekaproject]

Chimera

Questions ricocheted around the Revelation at the speed of light, but Lyra’s head spun too fast for her to even really register any of them. It felt like her weirdness-detecting meter was broken—so much had happened in the past few days that her mind had just stopped noticing these bizarre situations. It all still felt like a fever dream, and she half-expected to be woken up at any minute by some drunken draft dodger or homeless streetwalker screaming at her to get out of their territory. That was it, it had to be. Any second now, the distant hum of the spacecraft’s life-support systems would fade into the buzz of neon lights, the lingering scent of lavender would transform into the odor of cheap perfume, and Imperial white would turn to Cantator black.

Lyra closed her eyes tight and opened them again, only to see the glittering, ascetic luxury of the Revelation once more. She was still the picture of upper-crust perfection—she was clothed in a gown the Imperatrix had personally gifted her, wearing jewelry expensive enough to support her forever if she dared to run away and pawn it, and sitting amongst people from a range of castes she never thought she’d meet. Acidalia sat in front of her, talking to David about some complicated war Lyra had only ever heard snippets of from T, while the others interrupted the conversation occasionally to add bits and pieces of information and insight. Lyra herself stayed silent, mostly because she had no idea what she could possibly offer this conversation.

“This is dangerous territory,” Acidalia said wearily, rubbing her forehead like she had a migraine. “You’d think after all this time, people would learn that forming never-ending, complicated webs of alliances is a recipe for disaster, especially combined with that imperialistic, militaristic attitude Cadé claims the Alliance has.”

David scoffed. “People never learn from their ancestors’ mistakes. If they did, nobody would be in the mess every one of us is trapped in right now.” Alongside him, his daughter nodded, looking a strange combination of bored and annoyed that Lyra never associated with meeting literal honest-to-god space aliens.

“Well, we’re not really in a mess, are we?” Athena, one of the Scientias, asked. She’d already somehow managed to get her lipstick smeared all the way down her chin and on her bright white teeth, though she hadn’t eaten anything or touched her face. It looked absolutely ridiculous, but Lyra assumed she had a high enough status that the others didn’t want to mention it. “I mean,” Athena clarified, “outside of our own war, that is. What can they do, make us listen to them?”

Acidalia sighed. “Well, yes.” “Bullshit,” Athena said. “You’re the Imperatrix Ceasarina—or, at least, an Imperatrix Ceasarina—of Eleutheria. They have to listen to what you say.”

“That isn’t how diplomacy works.” Acidalia frowned. “I have no way of knowing if Cadé is telling the truth or if this is all entirely made up. Keep in mind that, according to him, the governing body behind their delegation has no idea that they’re even here. There’s a very real possibility that he could just be utterly mad, or that he’s a radical politician with no real, substantial support simply making absurd claims to invoke pathos.”

“So you can just say no to him,” Athena said patronizingly.

“No, not exactly. Because if he was telling the truth, Eleutheria could be facing a military unlike any other we’ve ever dealt with, and then either they crush us, or we waste countless resources getting them off of our planet. Perhaps I’d have taken the risk of denying him if we were in peacetime, but the great Eleutherian army is already divided in two, the government is a barely functioning mess, and half the citizens hate the other half with a passion I’ve never seen before. If we declined their ‘offer’ of an alliance and we were attacked by this hypothetical enemy…” Her voice trailed off, and though it never wavered, she didn’t look exactly the same as before. She wasn’t shaken, really, but perhaps slightly less confident, and that worried Lyra supremely.

“Well, I, for one, am not going to be bullied by these interstellar assholes,” Praetor Andromeda declared, as if it was that easy. Her one glowing iris made a click-click-click noise like metal on metal when she rolled her eyes. “They may claim to have fancy technology, but they’re definitely bluffing. If they don’t have Eleutheria’s biotech, how can they have weaponized black holes? Those aren’t even possible.”

“That is true,” Acidalia ceded, “but they’ve always been far more advanced than us in regards to physics. They do seem to lag behind in biology, but that’s not what’s important right now.” “And, um,” the other Scientia—Carina?—said, “weaponizing black holes is kind of technically possible.” Andromeda’s eyes widened, casting a fluorescent blue glow on the floor. “What do you mean by that?”

“The math does check out.” Carina shrugged. “I—well, I’d hardly know, I’m a student, really. But they’re definitely not too outlandish. And, theoretically, if they existed, they’d be too powerful to face up against. All of Terra would be torn to shreds, and most of Mars, too, at the very least.” “Is there any way for us to get weaponized black holes?” Andromeda asked. “Hypothetically.”

“No,” Acidalia said quickly, “and even if there was, I would never green light that. If these massive forces of destruction are real, the galaxy most certainly doesn’t need another one.”

“It’s war. Creating massive forces of destruction comes with the territory.”

“We do not need to go from leveling cities to leveling solar systems,” David argued. “As if nuclear bombs and the like aren’t already bad enough. Have you ever seen Star Wars: A New Hope? Look at what happened to Princess Leia’s planet! Acidalia’s right—nobody needs more of that.”

“Maybe Acidalia should keep her mouth shut about what’s ethical and what isn’t, seeing as she let her brother kill himself to save her own skin,” Ace snapped suddenly, glaring at Acidalia with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel.

Lyra was sure her eyes almost bulged out of her head, but the Imperatrix herself seemed to take it in stride. “We can debate the ethics of war and self-sacrifice another time,” she said, smoothly transitioning to another subject. Ace looked like he wanted to say something, but Lyra shot him a look, and he closed his mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Acidalia to be held accountable for her actions and the role she had in T’s death, but it seemed unwise to bring that up now, and insulting royalty was never a good idea. Ace was lucky nobody straight-up arrested him on the spot.

With Acidalia’s statement, the rest of the room quieted somewhat, though Ace continued to stare angrily into space. Andromeda kicked at something on the floor, clearly irritated, and an awkward silence fell over the leaders.

“So what are we gonna do?” Athena asked eventually, breaking the unsteady quietude.

“Right now, I think our priority should be shutting down the insanity happening in Appalachia at the moment,” Acidalia replied. “Once we secure the capital, we’ll have more resources to allocate to dealing with the massive war the rest of the Via Lactea may or may not have gotten itself into. I’m going have to address the potential alliance at some point, but I can’t do much while we’re actively fighting a battle.”

“You make it sound much simpler than it is,” Andromeda cautioned, gesturing at the window. “Imperatrix Ceasarina though you may be, you’re still no Praetor.” “I’m actually the Commander in Chief of the entire Eleutherian military, technically speaking, but that’s irrelevant. I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I maintain that it needs to be done. We have to get Appalachia and we have to do it quickly, and if there’s anyone alive who can do that, it’s you.” The compliment tacked on at the end was clearly an attempt to pacify Andromeda, but it seemed to work, and she relaxed slightly, placated.

“All right, but you’re going to have to be lenient on me,” Andromeda said. “If I have to use unorthodox methods—“

“Andy, don’t,” David interrupted, and he and Acidalia both stiffened. Lyra glanced at Cressida, Ace, and the Scientias, who seemed just as tense as the others. For a brief instant it seemed like Acidalia and Andromeda were about to start arguing again, then the atmosphere shifted, and Acidalia’s eyes went wide like she’d had a sudden realization.

“What is it?” Andromeda asked—well, more like demanded, really.

“I just had an idea.” “Yeah, no shit. What’s the idea?” Acidalia bit her lip. “It’s absolutely mad.” “Great.” “It’s almost certainly a war crime.” ���Even better.”

David shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like where this is going. I will not have my daughter be the child of a convicted war criminal.”

“You can’t get convicted of war crimes if you don’t lose the war,” Andromeda shrugged. “What is it?” “Before I say anything—“ Acidalia began. “Will you stop running your mouth and spit it out? You’re going to give me a goddamn heart attack from the anticipation. I swear to God, you are the worst,” Andromeda interrupted. She held something in her hands—an elastic hair tie, or maybe a rubber band—and twisted it around her fingers, fidgeting, like she simply couldn’t wait to hear what horrible plan Acidalia had concocted in the past five minutes.

Acidalia swallowed, looking like she was reconsidering even mentioning whatever she was about to say. A moment passed, then two. Then, with a pained voice, she announced simply, “I am a Cipher.”

Lyra had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but evidently Andromeda and David understood, because they looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“That’s genius,” Andromeda said, her features lighting up like a Saturnalia tree.

“That’s horrible,” David countered, looking shocked that Acidalia even dared to suggest it.

Everyone else just kind of stared at each other, and Lyra was relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one in the dark. Even the Scientias looked bemused, which wasn’t a feeling often associated with the caste of knowledge. Cressida tugged at her father’s arm, asking a question in rapid Martian Anglian, but he didn’t answer her. Eventually Acidalia seemed to sense that they needed an explanation, and she rose from her place in her organic white chair, which suddenly looked much more like a throne than it had before.

“To cipher is to encode,” she said, but she didn’t look at them. Her big brown eyes focused on something outside the window, a distant speck of light a million parsecs away, and Lyra got the feeling Acidalia was trying to avoid her gaze. She wondered why. It didn’t seem like the Imperatrix should have to worry about anyone’s judgement—especially not a Cantator’s.

Athena just stared. “Your point?” “What I’m about to say may be somewhat shocking,” Acidalia said, though her tone never wavered, and she didn’t look at all like she was about to drop a bombshell. Still, Ace tensed, and Lyra couldn’t blame him. If she were in his position… well, she might not be very enthusiastic to hear any more life-changing statements by Acidalia, either.

“With all due respect, we just met space aliens. I doubt there’s anything that could shock me any more than that,” Athena dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Now you’ve just made me curious.”

“Well, if you insist.” Acidalia sighed. “The Ciphers are rulers, first and foremost, but we are scientists, too. Eleutheria is much more of a technocracy than you may have anticipated, and the strength of the Imperial family comes not only from wealth, but from scientific skill. More specifically, people like my mother and I are both Imperatrices and geneticists, and that’s why we’ve been able to rule over Eleutheria for as long as we have. If you genetically modify each and every citizen from birth, you’re quelling rebellions before they even begin. Everyone in this room bears the marks of a society so focused on futurism that they’ve given up on ethics, myself included.”

For a minute, nobody said anything. Lyra only half-knew what Acidalia was talking about—she’d heard, vaguely, of biology and genetics, but she hardly knew what a cell was, let alone the intricacies of the human genome. Then Athena said, quite loudly, “so that means we’re mutants?”

“In a sense,” Acidalia said, “though I’m afraid that it’s probably not half as cool as what you’re thinking of. Let me give you an example: you’re a caste Scientia, correct?”

“Yeah,” Athena said, “so?”

“So…” Acidalia trailed off, and Lyra could almost see gears turning in her head. “So you have a very high IQ. Some would argue extraordinarily high, higher than human nature is supposed to permit. High enough that the negative effects—anxiety, depression, mood disorders, psychosis, and schizophrenia—almost cancel out any benefit it ever may have had. How many of your elders suffered from incurable mental illnesses?”

Athena went silent, her easygoing façade disappearing like a mask falling off her face. “Oh, god. My mother. I never met her, but while she was alive, she was supposedly out of her mind. I always wondered if that was why I was so bad at numbers—my family was just stupid. But you think it’s because she had an artificially inflated IQ or something?”

“I know four people with psychotic disorders,” Carina offered. “I always thought that seemed kind of like too many people for such a small sample size, but I never put the pieces together. Why would Eleutheria want to drive their scientists crazy?”

“They don’t. It’s an unprecedented side effect of an experiment that was done one time on one small group, and then extrapolated to everyone forever. You’re researchers, too, even if you’re not in biomed, and you know how disastrous improperly applied science is. But the Eleutherian perspective on science and society extends far beyond just the intelligence and resultant mental illness of the Scientia caste—it permeates every aspect of our civilization from the top down, and the Ciphers are—supposedly—the ones in charge of it all.”

“So they built us to fit in the boxes they made,” Athena said, sounding half-enraptured. “You’re saying that they intentionally modified everyone just to fit into a caste?”

Acidalia nodded. “That’s why I don’t even have to look at you and Carina to know that you probably have all sorts of inconvenient diseases that would make it difficult for you to do much of anything physical. Asthma and allergies, chronic fatigue, weak muscles and soft bones, immune systems that will lose their metaphorical minds over a grain of pollen or cat dander but will turn the other cheek when faced with influenza. Scientias weren’t built for fighting, and I mean that quite literally. After all, if the smartest members of the population are also the strongest, you’re setting yourself up for a revolution. That’s too risky.”

“I was always sick as a child,” Carina said softly. “Is that why?” Acidalia nodded. “Almost certainly. It’s like that with every other caste, too—Labora are incredibly strong, but also prone to deafness, blindness, and other conditions that make communication much more difficult in the absence of sign language and Braille, because you can’t form rebellions—or even unions—if you can’t speak to one another. And the only group of people who are exempt from this are the people who were born to rule society itself. Have you ever seen a noblewoman who’s anything less than brilliant and beautiful?”

“Long story short, the propaganda isn’t lying when it says power is in the Ciphers’ DNA,” Andromeda said, looking far less concerned about all this than Lyra was. Despite being a Cantator, a child whose existence wasn’t approved of by the government, she almost felt that something was crawling underneath her skin, like her body wasn’t exactly her own.

Maybe it wasn’t. She’d never meant anyone else whose hair grew in a natural fluorescent pink.  That couldn’t be normal, could it? She’d inherited it from one of her parents, and where did they get it from? Pre-Eleutherian humans didn’t have hair that looked like liquid fruit-gum  amoxicillin. Even Lyra, who had an abandonment certificate instead of a birth certificate, was affected by the Ciphers and their encoding of genes. And if they’d managed to make her hair the same color as strawberry-flavored antibiotics, what had they managed to put into her head?

“So how can we weaponize this?” Athena asked, having apparently already gotten over the revelation that the government had effectively been poisoning her to keep her scrawny and weak her entire life.

“I can edit the genome of anything,” Acidalia said, “including microorganisms. I’m a walking source of made-to-order bioweapons. It’s not a complicated science—in fact, any standard Biologica could probably do it—but what makes me different is the fact that I have training and education and an expensive lab, while any Biologica who looked too deep into genetics would probably find herself dead before her research even made it to publication.”

“Yes, so let’s stop talking and do it already,” Andromeda snapped, clearly bored. She’d probably heard this discussion a thousand times, to the point where she was sick and tired of even hearing people talk about it. “What do you think would work best? I’m partial to something as infectious as the common cold and as lethal as rabies, myself.”

“Rabies would never work, it’s too slow-acting,” Acidalia dismissed. “Besides, I am in no way agreeing to dropping virus bombs out of planes, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Why not?” “Because that would start a cascade I have no way of shutting down. At least with nuclear attacks, radiation disperses over time. Infectious diseases only amplify, becoming worse and worse with every new case. Innocent people would almost certainly die.” “Well, the needs of the many—“ “Don’t you dare. I’m not murdering civilians for the sake of winning a war. They didn’t sign up for this, and it’s not their conflict to fight. They don’t deserve to die.” “By that logic, neither do half the soldiers we’ve killed.” “Soldiers know what they’re doing when they join. The two aren’t comparable. Even disregarding the ethics of targeting civilians, though, the effects of such a drastic attack would be felt for miles around. It could kill millions. It could bring about the end of days. Eleutheria was born from the ashes of a world killed by a pandemic, and I won’t let that happen again. No more world-destroying, civilization-ending smallpox missiles.”

“Then what are you proposing?” Andromeda’s voice was as cold as the gaze from her electric iris, and Lyra was suddenly more afraid of her than she’d ever been before. She sounded so icy, so inhuman, that it was hard not to flinch away from her uncanny-valley eyes.

“There are ways to localize plagues. It uses ridiculously outdated technology and it’d be a very risky mission, but it’s far better than killing innocents.”

“Not if it kills you.”

“I’m one person. I’d much rather risk my own skin than doom millions of others unfairly.” Acidalia didn’t say unlike you, but the way she looked at Andromeda made it abundantly clear.

Andromeda narrowed her eyes. “If you want to kill yourself, that’s fine with me. But I’m going to need to know what to put in the obituary.”

“You don’t need to write an obituary, because the planet thinks I’m dead anyway. Remember, Alestra killed me. I have nothing to lose. If we win, we win, and if I die, nothing happens. It’d be wonderful if I could come back from the dead proclaiming the news of a Revolutionary victory, but if I’m killed for real, people will be none the wiser.” Acidalia sounded incredibly blasé about her potential imminent death, and Lyra had to wonder if it was all due to T’s untimely demise. The Underground was a sick, twisted, violent place, and she’d lost enough childhood friends to know how the Imperatrix felt. When a loved one died, it was so easy to slip into a toxic, self-sacrificial mentality borne out of survivors’ guilt and the first stages of grief. Even monarchs weren’t immune to the challenges and feelings that came with being human.

Equally empathetic and disturbed by the sudden realization that the Imperatrix Ceasarina was, in fact, as human as any other, Lyra sat back and tried to focus again on the task at hand. Localizing a plague seemed impossible. Diseases—well, they replicated. It was their nature. She’d seen it a thousand times. One person would fall ill, and maybe they’d get better, or maybe they’d slowly decline until their body just crashed and they died. And sometimes that was it—one body, one burial, one half-empty bottle of ineffective antibacterial pills. But there were other times where one sick person turned into ten turned into a hundred, and symptoms swept through crowds of people like wildfire. Lyra had been a victim of such an event; her throat had swollen up, almost but not quite enough to suffocate her. She made it through. Many had not.

It didn’t discriminate, the sickness. It killed the slavers and slaves, the criminals and police, the powerful and anyone who dared to oppose them. It was a silent, lethal force that lurked in every dark corner and every abandoned medical base. She couldn’t imagine how dangerous it would be if it was weaponized. How do you fight against an enemy you can’t even see?

“How would you make sure it would only hurt the people it’s supposed to?” Lyra asked, feeling nervous. Addressing the Imperatrix so casually still felt wrong.

Acidalia still looked uncomfortable, but she answered anyway, sounding as proper and elegant as ever. “Several centuries ago, when Eleutheria was far smaller and the populace more easily controlled, there existed a laboratory of sorts called the Terminal. It was built for the sole purpose of providing medical care to the city-state, but technology progressed and my ancestors gained more power, and, like many scientific endeavors, it lost its original mission after years of experiments of dubious ethicality. After several wars and a near-uprising, the Terminal’s purpose shifted from noble scientific research to citizen control, and you can now use it as a method to dispatch deadly pandemics or lifesaving cures to whichever portions of the city you’d like.”

“How?” Athena asked, looking suspicious. As if Acidalia had a reason to lie to them, Lyra thought.

“It’s built into Eleutheria itself. The city’s grown around the Terminal for the past few hundred years. Or, to put it metaphorically, it’s like mycelium; the actual structure is the flowering fungus, but it has an invisible network of hyphae that reach under the surface,” Acidalia said, somewhat unhelpfully.

Athena looked completely bemused, which made Lyra feel slightly better about not knowing what mycelium was. Acidalia didn’t seem to sense that they hadn’t gotten the metaphor, because she didn’t explain.

“So what you’re proposing,” Athena said, “is getting into the Terminal and creating some nightmare plague that would only affect Nova bases?” Acidalia nodded. “Well, more specifically, adolescent and adult men in those Nova bases, as that demographic composes the majority of their army. It’s not perfect—rare as they are, female soldiers exist, and there are doubtlessly many women in non-combat roles that nevertheless have great impact—but it’s the same philosophy about cutting specimens, isn’t it? It’s far better to cut carefully and with patience, even if you wind up removing less than what you wanted, because you can always go back and cut away more. But you should never try to cut more than you need, because once it’s off, there’s no way of getting it back on again.”

Her tone of voice suggested that everyone spent their spare time playing with “specimens” of some unknown kind, and Lyra wondered just how involved the Ciphers were in medicine and biology. She tried to picture Acidalia wearing a lab coat and blue latex gloves like the scientists she saw on the posters for disaster holos, but the image was too ridiculous for her to keep it in her mind’s eye for very long. It was hard to imagine the Imperatrix wearing anything other than elaborate white dresses and platinum jewelry.

“That’s suicidal,” David said simply, looking very put-off by the suggestion. “Ethics aside, you’re going to get yourself killed. The only entrances to the Terminal were built eons ago, back before the starscrapers were thousands of floors high, and they’re all located in places that are considered horrible areas even on the best of days. And today is definitely not the best of days.”

“I know,” Acidalia replied.

“Well, I’d volunteer to take you on a little tour of the worst places on all Terra,” Andromeda offered, “but it’s been years since I was last down there. And even when I was a kid, it’s not like I saw too much of the surface anyway. Besides, it’d be stupid to have us both go on a mission so risky.”

Lyra thought that sounded like a flimsy excuse to avoid having to go on a dangerous expedition, seeing as Acidalia and Andromeda were certainly not the only two important people in charge of the Revolution, but Acidalia seemed to agree with the Praetor. “I’ll have to go alone,” she not-quite-shrugged.

“No you don’t.” It took half a second for Lyra to realize that those words had just left her mouth, but she found that she couldn’t stop herself from talking. “I know those streets. I was raised there. I could show you the whole city if you wanted, and I can most definitely get you to the Terminal.”

Acidalia raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You know that place?” “It’s where I stumbled across your brother. Or, more accurately, where he and Ace stumbled across me. You know—where Cassandra lives. I’ve worked there for my entire life. Up until a few days ago, I’d never even left the island. I tried, but I couldn’t get past the River Orientalis.” She cracked an awkward smile.

“I’m not saying no,” Acidalia said slowly, “but you’re… fifteen?”

“Sixteen,” Lyra corrected. In truth, she was probably not sixteen. She could count her age in summers, but everything before five or six years was fuzzy and nebulous, and she could just as easily have been fifteen or even younger. But that made her sound much more immature, and that was not how she wanted herself to come across.

Acidalia bit her lip. “You’re so young.”

“You’re barely twenty.” Lyra’s heart practically spasmed in her own chest, and she nearly flinched away from Acidalia’s steely brown eyes, half-surprised by her own boldness.

“You grow up quick in the Underground,” Andromeda shrugged. Lyra guessed that she was only agreeing to the plan so Lyra could take her place as the sacrificial lamb, but that wasn’t here nor there.

Acidalia shrugged, and something about her posture reminded Lyra of a surrendering dictator waving a white flag. She had an air about her that gave every expression and every action an uncanny amount of weight—all she had to do was breathe, and she captured the attention of everyone in the room.

“I suppose if it’s the only option,” Acidalia ceded, “but I will never be comfortable with dragging innocent people into a war that isn’t theirs.”

“I live on this planet, too,” Lyra reminded her.

“It isn’t the same. This is not your responsibility, and you don’t have to make this sacrifice. There is a high possibility we could both die from this mission.” “I’m a Cantator. Death doesn’t scare me.”

“Then that’s one thing we have in common.” Acidalia offered Lyra hand, which she took. The Imperatrix’s skin was clammy and cold, and a thin crust of blood stuck around the edges of her perfectly manicured nails. Her fingertips were red and raw, like she’d been scrubbing at them until the skin started to peel, perhaps in an effort to get the clotted blood off. Lyra didn’t remark on it.

“A Cantator and a Cipher. I sure hope you survive, because the propaganda department will have a goddamn field day with this,” Andromeda laughed. “Good luck.”

Lyra almost wanted to snap at her. The Praetor wouldn’t be so jovial if she was the one about to go on a suicide mission. But that would have been wasted time, and this whole conversation had been long enough already. There were more important things to do than yell at Andromeda.

Like deliver a living biological weapon, who also happened to be Imperatrix Ceasarina Acidalia-Planitia Cipher, to an ancient laboratory buried in the middle of a war zone so she could program a plague to kill her own mother’s soldiers.

This is going to go just wonderfully, Lyra thought.

[707spenis-blog]

RFA+Saeran+V keeping the MC safe in the nuclear apocalypse?

warning: cw/tw for guns, suicide, and blood mention i straight up made this angst bc this blog needs some hehehehehe but also i hope these aren’t too cliche or unreasonable,,,

also suuuuuuuuuper long scenario post, just a fair warning i hope i did it justice! i worked so hard on this alfjlasjfljfa;f s

Yoosung

he’s not prepared for this at all

everything was out of control, there were so many dead bodies everywhere

Yoosung does his best to protect you while this is going on

if either of you got injured, he’d try and patch them up as best as possible

however, when you two were roaming around, Yoosung didn’t feel so good

“MC… let’s go look somewhere else. I’m not getting a good feeling right now.”

so you listen to him and follow close behind

it was hours and darkness was falling quickly

you two took shelter in an abandoned home, even though it probably wasn’t the best idea since none of you had any sort of protection

it was just a matter of relying on dodging bullets if you ever came across someone who had a gun

both of you had a difficult time falling asleep – neither of you were sure if it was because of being on edge or that you literally couldn’t just sleep

what you assumed to be the next day came, you told him that it probably wasn’t the best idea to stay in one area for too long

he agrees with you, but he first decides to rummage around to see if there was anything for protection

Yoosung does end up finding a gun in one of the closets, but with little ammo left in it and there weren’t anymore ammo boxes to be found

“We’ll just have to use it sparingly.” however both of you know that Yoosung’s never really fired a gun before

once finished, you guys head out and begin trekking to another place

dread was tugging at the bottom of your heart, though you couldn’t figure out why

stopping and taking a break at another house empty, your boyfriend disappeared for a bit before you started getting worried, but then he pulls you into a hug and tells you that everything will be okay

“Sorry for worrying. I wanted to make sure this house was safe first. Oh, by the way, MC, could you see if I left my bag of items outside?”

“Yes.” and then you went out the door and looked around and sure enough, his familiar bag that had the essentials was near the next door house

you figured that if it was that far away, he was doing some excessive checking

as soon as you picked up the bag, the most ear-deafening sound surrounded you and sent you flying backwards and knocking you unconscious

when you awoke, everything was muffled and there was a nasty burnt smell wafting around

as you sat up, confusion was replaced by despair as the house that Yoosung was in was completely demolished

“Yoosung… Yoosung!!!” you got up as fast as you could and ran towards the destroyed house, but deep down, you knew he was gone

your knees collapsed underneath your weight as you began weeping his name over and over again, however no amount of times you said his name would bring him back

Zen

let’s just he’s glad that he exercised daily to be able to keep up with running away, lifting debris, and carrying you if you got too exhausted

he’s never had to pull a gun on someone, but if he needed to to keep you safe, then he would

many buildings are in complete ruins or blown to smithereens, so it was difficult looking for somewhere to hide

additionally, you both had to be careful that the area wasn’t too infected with leftover radiation

reminds you often that he’s here and that he’ll be here to protect you

sometimes a little too overprotective, but you know he means well

instead of roaming from house to house, he suggests that you two should just stay put

luckily, you were currently residing in a house that had a lot of unopened food and water bottles, so if you rationed the food properly, it would last for awhile

when you guys slept, he made sure you slept closer to the wall and him closer to the door just in case someone tried breaking in

while you slept against him, he just stared into the darkness, constantly worrying about you and keeping you safe

everything seemed peaceful and calm, until one night, Zen heard some banging noises around the house

he wakes you up and tells you to hide and then he grabs one of the guns and carefully makes his way to the front

when he peers out one of the windows, he catches a glimpse of a guy roaming around and it didn’t seem like he was up to any good

he mentally prepares himself and cracks the door open and a bullet whizzes past, just barely grazing his cheek

slamming the door shut, he crouches down and hastily searches for a good place to hide and shoot at the same time

shots are fired through the window creates a deafening sound

he moves over slightly to get a better view and he’s finally in Zen’s line of sight

he raises his gun and shoots a few times then crouches down and reloads the barrel quickly and as he’s about to shoot again, the guy was out of sight

he’s cursing and trying to figure out where he might have moved to next and as soon as he gets up to move to a different spot, an unseen bullet makes its way right through his heart

Zen immediately falls to the ground

you’re hiding in the closet and holding a hand over your mouth, hoping that it was your enemy who just fell to the ground

the door opens and there’s heavy and slow footsteps that seem to get closer, as if he were inspecting to see if anyone else was hiding in here

you couldn’t breathe; you body was frozen stiff and you didn’t dare start crying

they stop in place and then get quieter and the front door finally shut

listening to make sure he was gone, you opened the closet door and looked for Zen

and when you did, you gasp so loudly and stare down at his lifeless form; there was a pool of blood slowly expanding underneath of him

“Zen…”

you put a hand to your mouth as you sob uncontrollably, wondering how you were going to survive without your protector and love of your life

Jaehee

fairly fit to be in this kind of situation, but knows that her judo skills won’t provide any use

you both rely on running away from danger until a secluded place was discovered

you also picked up a few weapons here and there from dead bodies along with way, distributing them evenly amongst both of you

even though this was really happening, it still felt unreal… just the fact that at any point in time, either of you could end up dead

and that alone scared Jaehee

if anyone were to go first, she was going to make sure that it’s her

as of now, you two are hiding in an abandoned house, but luckily it was still filled with non-perishable foods and water

when night came, you’d take turns every other night keeping watch, and tonight was hers

while you were asleep, there were voices that could be heard from outside, so she grabbed a gun and tip-toed through the dark to see if was something she could ignore or had to take care of

there were a group of strangers roaming around and it looked as if they were going to enter the house

strangely, they knock and she has to mull over whether it’s worth telling them to find another place or hiding… but what if they just enter?

hiding the gun in the back of her waistband, she cracks to door open, asking them questions and curtly telling them that this house is occupied

but they weren’t having any of it; they kept going on about how it took them forever to find somewhere, but Jaehee was keeping her ground

finally her and the other groups came to an agreement – if she forked over some food and water, they’d leave

skeptical at first, she finally decides to go with it just so that they would leave

she’s about to shut the door and grab some food, but they others overpower the door and push it open, but she acts quickly and fires the gun twice, one bullet per person

this causes you to wake up quickly and grab yours as well and then examine the scene

there were two bodies on the ground and Jaehee was in a standoff between another person

you’re about to take another step forward quietly, but the floor creaks and jaehee looks over at you

“MC…!” but that was enough of a distraction for the enemy to shoot her in the chest, killing her immediately

your hand flies to your mouth

It was all your fault

but you quickly snapped back and shot him before he could even say another word and he slumps right to the ground

tossing your gun to the side, you rush over to her as she was lying face down, blood pouring from the bullet hole

you break down and cry into your hands, blaming yourself for slipping up and causing the death of your beloved

Jumin

sure enough, he owns a bomb shelter and sees that you and Elizabeth the 3rd are securely in it

there’s bodyguards outside of the door 24/7 for your protection

you tell him that you don’t really think that you need bodyguards considering you’re way underground and safe from thieves and whatnot

still, he insists that they’re there for your protection

as much as you appreciated him protecting you in this dome, you missed having fresh every once in awhile and he lets you out with a few security guards

while you were sleeping, with Elizabeth the 3rd, he’d come in and stroke your hair and kiss your forehead

he really did hate keeping you holed up here, but since everything has escalated into something as serious as a nuclear apocalypse, he had to protect you at all costs

you played with Elizabeth the 3rd from time to time and played games

however, one day, Jumin had to meet with his father in a different location to discuss important matters regarding the future of C&R and other things

he told you this and you didn’t like the idea

“Jumin, it’s so dangerous out there… please don’t go!”

“I have to. I’m sorry, princess. If I don’t, and this war subsides, everything will be a mess. I must prepare for this.”

reluctantly, you let him, not that you really had a choice

there’s a knock onto door and one of the bodyguards comes in

“He’s here, sir.”

“Let him in.”

“Who…?” and then a familiar redhead comes in with several electronics

“Seven?” you gasp in surprise

“Seven Zero Seven at your service!”

“Jumin, what’s he doing here?”

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

taking your face in his hands, he places his forehead onto yours and gazes into your eyes

“I love you, MC. I love you so much.”

you blink a few times in confusion before responding

“I love you too, Jumin.” and then he places a very gentle kiss on your lips before breaking away and petting Elizabeth the 3rd one last time

“Take care of MC of me while I’m gone, okay?”

she meows sadly in response and he sets her down beside you and heads towards the door, looking back once more at your beautiful face, and then finally taking his leave

on the other side of the spacious room, he’s setting up his hacking equipment

he does help cure your boredom by telling you funny stories and “”””playing”””””” with Elly, but even with the entertainment, you were missing Jumin

it’s been at least a week since his departure and there hasn’t been word from him

you’re about to go ask the security guards, but as soon as you open the door, Seven’s standing right there, dread covering his entire face

“Is there an update on Jumin?”

he looks away, unable to meet your expectant gaze

“Jumin… won’t be returning.”

your hopeful face falters, shock and disbelief replacing it

“No… he… that can’t be true…!”

Seven looks back at you; his eyes seemed dull and there were no signs of jokes

“I’m sorry.”

unable to hold it in, you burst into tears and flung yourself into Seven’s arms

he’s completely thrown off, but eventually wraps his arms around you as you’re bawling into his jacket

so this is what Jumin meant by just in case

707

seven knows of a hidden, but safe bomb shelter-like place for the time being

the real challenge would be getting there with his hacking equipment safely

brings gas masks just in case you two have to walk where there’s high radiation

also brings extra guns and weapons for protection and gives some to you just in case you two get temporarily separated

he understands that any moment something drastic could happen, so he’d do everything in his power to make sure you won’t be hurt

you take one of his cars as transportation

on your way there, both of you are silent

he’s got a look of dread on his face and his knuckles white from clutching the wheel so tightly; you’re rigid like a statue

you tried not to think about when your last moment with each other could be

but as soon as you thought about that, an unexpected explosion went off nearby, causing the car to flip over multiple times

things are fuzzy and heavily muted, but there’s a muffled voice calling your name repeatedly

“MC!! MC!!!!”

was that seven…?

you felt a pair of hands dragging you across the ground and shaking you

“Sev…en?”

“MC! Can you hear me?”

you nod, but very weakly as you try to sit up

he helps you and you look around – his car was smashed all over

“If you don’t remember, there was an explosion that went off and the force caused the car to veer off and I lost control… Everything in the car, including my hacking equipment is unusable. I still have a few guns hidden in the waistband of my pants and in my pockets, though.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine. Let’s start walking and find somewhere to hide until we devise a different plan.”

so you two begin walking in a totally different direction trying to find shelter

what seems like hours after, there’s an abandon set of houses and you take refuge in one for the time being

both of you eat what’s available, talk about a new plan, then sleep

the next day, you two set out again. everything seemed calmer, but… you thought too soon once again

instantaneously, your boyfriend pulls out a gun and points it at an open window, shooting because he sensed someone watching from above

he missed at first and the other fired back, sending at least 3 bullets through the side of his stomach

he falls down while clutching the fresh wound and you’re staring in complete shock, but then snap out of it and pull out a gun hidden in your waistband of your pants, and aim before the opponent has a chance to re-aim at you

pulling the trigger, the gunshot echoes throughout the area and shoots right through his head

once you’re sure there’s no one else, you rush over to your dying boyfriend

he’s only hanging on by a thread…

tears form and you start crying, knowing that his life is nearing its end

“Seven…”

he struggles to reach his other hand up and wipe away your tears, giving you one of his signature smiles

“Looks like Defender–” he coughs up blood trying to speak, “of Justice… Seven Zero Seven, has been defeated…”

“No…” you didn’t want to accept that in a few minutes, you’d be all alone.

tears start falling from his eyes as well

“Let’s find each other… in the next… life… and we’ll definitely… marry in the space… station… okay?”

nodding your head vigorously, you hold his hand tightly

“I promise… I promise we’ll find each other… I love you, Saeyoung!”

“I love you the most, MC. Don’t… ever forget that…”

a moment later, his hand goes limp, and his breathing comes to a halt

you scream out in agony, wondering why everything had to come to an end like this

then an idea came to mind; your hand reaches for the gun in his hand

and you press the cold metal to your temple, squeezing your eyes shut while tears are still pouring from your eyes

I’ll find you in the next life, Saeyoung, so we can marry in the space station and live a better life.

you hesitate a slight moment before finally pulling the trigger

your body falls to the ground right by his and all you remember was a blinding white light enveloping you

V

with his limited sight, he’s basically… well, useless in this kind of situation

even with his heightened sense of hearing, it doesn’t provide much use

there’s constant explosions going off everywhere, but staying inside is your best option

however, you didn’t know when your last day would be…

even in areas with low radiation, you two didn’t have any sort of masks to filter out the dangerous particles, so they would fill your lungs over time

there were nights where you would constantly shake in fear, but V would hold you tightly in his arms

he’d try to calm you with his low and soothing voice

even if he was calmer on the outside, he was scared as hell – he was scared of losing you first

if either of you were to die, he’d want to be the one to go first because he knows that you have a higher chance of survival than him

so to make sure you don’t end up as the same fate as him, he does something while you’re asleep

what seems like it’s going to be another normal day, there’s a knock on the door

you’re confused because who just… knocks in this kind of situation?

“Ah. MC, would you get that?”

a million things are flying through your mind because V said that as if he knew something…

but you decided to trust him and open the door

there stood Jumin and at least 3 bodyguards with a car behind them

“MC. Good to see that you’re safe.”

your head whips around as V approaches from behind

“V… what… is this?”

“I’m sorry, MC. It’s the only way to keep you safe since I’m incapacitated.”

then it clicks – he’s sending you off with Jumin because he has the protection

“No… V, please come with me! You can’t stay here by yourself! You’ll… you’ll…”

“I know. But it’s too late for me anyway,” he moves closer and strokes your cheek gently, giving you a warm and loving smile, “I know you’ll be fine without me.”

“No…” tears begin to fall down your face

V concentrates his limited sight on Jumin’s form

“I know you’ll take good care of her, Jumin”

he nods and picks you up and slings you over his shoulder like it’s nothing

but before leaving, Jumin looks back one more time at his best friend

“V…”

“Goodbye, Jumin.” and he just smiles once more as Jumin makes his way to the car with you

“V!!!!!”

he just waves at you, and even behind those sunglasses he always wears, you could tell he was crying and that it was just as hard for him to say his final goodbyes to you as well

Saeran

you’re his number one priority and he doesn’t care what he has to do to keep you safe – he’ll do anything and kill anyone to ensure that you’re living

once two are finally alone and in a safer place, he embraces you tightly

he doesn’t know if it’s comforting for you, but it’s the only thing he can think of to help

you end up falling asleep behind him and he stays up to make sure that nothing happens to you; however, someone manages to break in, startling you awake

the intruder managed to outwit Saeran and shot him in the stomach, falling to the ground, seemingly dead

your eyes were wide with shock as tears began forming, heart rate skyrocketing

the person stalked towards you and you reached for the knife in your back pocket, but you knew it was useless against someone with a gun 

as the enemy raises his arm and points the gun at you, finger on the trigger, you close your eyes, ready to accept your death along with Saeran’s

there was a loud fire, but you didn’t feel anything

when you opened your eyes, there was a bullet hole through the guy’s head and he dropped to the ground with a large thump

beside him, Saeran was sitting against the wall clutching his stomach, the gun still pointed up from shooting

“Saeran…!” you rush over to him and grab his face, “I thought you were dead!”

there was blood everywhere; his hand, shirt….

“I was not about to let him touch a single hair on you.” he said through gritted teeth

“Your stomach! Ah, let me see if there’s gauze around here…”

he didn’t didn’t stop you because, well… he just couldn’t tell you that he was bleeding too much

you came back with a small roll and tried your best to stop the bleeding and wrap him up

“You’re going to make it, okay? E-Everything will be fine…” you kept repeating to him, not sure if it was to comfort him or yourself

you lie down and gingerly place your head in his lap, wet eyes trying to make out his face

Saeran looks down and wipes the tears away and then gently caressing your cheek, silently giving you what you know will be his last smile forever

both of your hands hold onto his wrist tightly

as painful as it was for him, he does his best to lean down and place a kiss on your forehead

you and Saeran are enveloped in silence, enjoying each other’s presence while you could, but you end up falling asleep some time after

he stares at your sleeping face for as long as he can

“I guess this wasn’t the right world. Maybe… maybe in the next one, it won’t end in ruins like this. We can be happy again…”

Saeran hesitates at first, but then decides to do it anyway

“I love you.”

when you awoke, you instantly remembered everything that happened and see that he’s looking down at you… but… with duller eyes

his wrist that you were clutching was eerily cold as well

“No!!” you scrambled to your knees and put your ear to his mouth

Nothing.

immediately, tears burst from your eyes as you hugged him close to you

death had taken him, and you didn’t know how long it would take to catch you

but you hoped it was soon

brushing your hand over his eyes to close them, you place a hand on his cheek once more

he looked peaceful

but then you remembered

You didn’t get to tell him that you loved him.

[theroamingshadow]

Grand Tour

Azzy had convinced Chara to let me give him the grand tour. I wanted to show him his new Royal Guard detail since as a Chara he gets entitled to his own unit. He had always given me his unamused look since Ichi doesn't particularly like me. Oh well! At least the others do. Anyways I decided to show him all his cool new toys myself since I figured Azzy and Frisk probably wouldn't like what he gets too much.

When we arrived at one of the hangars, I led Ichi to one of the helicopters we had. "Now I know what you're thinking, "I don't need Royal Guards. I can take care of myself and them if I have to." I'm not doubting that, despite your adorable appearance, you're actually a force to be reckoned with." "Don't call me adorable." Ichi snapped "I describe what I see!" I nervously chuckled before he rolled his eyes at me and flipped me off. "You're lucky Asriel talked me into going with you." I do want to be friends with him, that's for sure. But right now I had to focus on business.

"Anyways, the reason why I'm giving you a Royal Guard detail is because as a prince, I feel as though you should treat yourself like one. Including staying safe. Frisk has a lot to deal with as ambassador. However, we can't dismiss the possibility of dickheaded politicians decided to try something stupid or potential anti monster terrorist organizations. You might be overwhelmed with large numbers during an attack of any kind which is why you'll be getting the extra help.

I gestured to the helicopter "This old girl is a UH-1S Huey helicopter. Manufactured by Bell helicopter with stealth modifications by the Black Mesa Research Facility, the Huey can provide a wide variety of functions from troop transport, MEDEVAC, and even air support with an M60A6 light machine gun, M134 Minigun or any other light machine gun of your choice on either side for a door gunner. This one is configured to Shadow Guard specifications with no markings and the notorious black paint."

He wasn't impressed yet, I was cool with that. The fun part would come later hehe. "This next one is a UH-60 Black Hawk manufactured by Sikorsky, a subsidiary of Lockheed Martin which makes some other fun toys we'll get to later. The Black Hawk is for more rugged and intense combat operations which can serve most of the functions of a Huey."

As we left the hangar, I showed Chara a few other aircraft such as the Chinook. I didn't want it to be too long since we still had much more to look at. Finally we got to the planes "Alright now we're on to the bigger toys! This right here is a B-52 Stratofortress bomber. She can carry all sorts of payloads from carpet bombing loads to even tactical nuclear weapons! Yes, you're authorized to use those but only in extremely desperate situations."

"Speaking of bombs!" I pointed to one next to the bomber "This is the X-473 crowd control bomb. It contains sleeping gas which... I'll be honest, we actually developed it as a countermeasure against Princess Rubbertits. It should knock her out cold within a few seconds of inhaling the gas. The bombs used can either be unguided "dumb bombs" which rely solely on gravity or more advanced bombs that can be more precise with a few technological enhancements. They can range from incendiary napalm, high explosive and of course, the previously mentioned nuclear option.

"Up next, the B-2 stealth bomber. I feel as though this one you might like since you seem to be the type that values stealth missions over brute force. Also nuclear capable."

I finally got to my favorite plane in the hangar. "Finally, we have the AC-130X Gunship! This bad girl can serve also as a bomber exclusively for the GBU-43 or most commonly known as the Massive Ordinance Air Blast or MOAB for short. You might know it better as the Mother Of All Bombs. One of the most powerful non nuclear weapons ever built. But that's just the beginning!"

"The AC-130X is the most powerful iteration of the AC-130 yet with an unstoppable powerhouse of weapons. Featuring an M61 25mm rotary cannon, a Bofors L/60 40mm auto cannon and the final cherry on top, an M102 Howitzer with a powerful 105mm shell to provide a devistating blow for anything that gets in your way!"

As I led Ichi into the next hanger I could tell he was losing his patience "We're almost done here. After this you'll get to either fly in one or command some for yourself." We entered the next hangar. "I've saved the best for last! This is my personal favorite part of the tour. Fighter jets!" I pointed to 2 in the hangar, one of them was being worked on by the pilot.

"Yo!" I called out. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Ah, heya Mark! I see you're giving another Chara the grand tour?" He answered. "Yup!" I responded. "Think you can head down to the Sim Chambers for me? I'm giving Ichi here a chance to learn how to blow shit up with style." The pilot responded with. "Sure thing! Once I'm done with this I'll head down there."

"Alright, thanks! What he's working on is Lockheed Martin's world renouned F-35 fighter jet! This one here is with stealth configurations but if stealth is your thing, the F-22 Raptor's got you covered. That one has 2 afterburners while the F-35 only has 1. Both can carry bombs such as Mark 77 incendiary bombs and of course, sidewinder missiles alongside JDAMs and other Air to Ground Missiles. We also have a few predator drones and reconnaissance planes such as the U-2S but I'm guessing you don't care to know about those."

I checked the time. "Well! I think that's everything, if you'll follow me to one of the command rooms I'll get everything ready. I know you'll love this. Most Charas do." Ichi sighed "I can barely hold my excitement..." He said sarcastically.

This is where the fun begins!

--------------

Part 2 will be out soon!

Ichi by @channydraws (I can't help but write about my favorites ÙwÚ )

Shadow by @xm115