#uthern merlou

[cloudbattrolls]

Unburied

Jastes Verdan | Outskirts of Civitrecce

Jastes dug at the grave, dirt-flecked face set in a grimace as he carefully shoveled chunks of soil away from the hole he was making. It was midnight - the moons shone brightly above, neither full, but both more than half and uncovered by clouds. A gentle breeze sometimes tossed his curls, providing a bit of respite from the heat. 

Good weather for a grim task.

Abbeth and Uthern helped him, the young yellowblood passing him a water bottle or climbing down to take a turn sometimes, the adult maroon keeping watch for any undue interest in their activities.

He was tempted to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but he knew he’d just get more dirt on it if he did. He kept at it, glad his muscles were enhanced by internal biotech fibers, though he still had the physical needs of any troll.

“Jas, do you want to take a break?” Abbeth asked with concern, the one-eyed six sweep old looking at him curiously.

“No.” He grunted. “I want this settled. I - “

His shovel hit something more solid than dark brown earth and he immediately stopped.

He took in a sharp breath and handed it up to Abbeth. The goose troll took it and put it aside, his gray eye wide. 

Jastes knelt down and brushed dirt aside, hurling clumps up and away from the two trolls accompanying him.

There it was, inches under him. 

First’s body. Exactly as he’d left it.

He sucked in a breath. He had to be sure.

The cyborg took out a small, aged hand broom and brushed more dirt aside.

Yes…it had definitely been down there. The fleshy parts showed obvious signs of decay, eaten away at by subterranean insects, though understandably not as much as a regular body would have. The hair was caked with dirt, and the…the metallic hands were dull.

He couldn’t stand to uncover any more. He’d seen enough, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he remembered what had happened that night.

He remembered how it had died in his arms. 

“It’s dead.” He called up, a quaver in his voice, though he hated himself for sounding so weak in front of his resistance members.

“It’s dead, so I have no idea what Takami is talking about.” He spat bitterly. “It’s been down here the whole time.”

Abbeth and Uthern exchanged looks.

“You don’t…think the other one got out too, somehow?” Abbeth asked hesitantly.

Jastes’s eyes flashed psiionic green.

“First is the only one I took out. There weren’t any other bodies - “

He stopped.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it?

The bugs…

“No.” He whispered, his hands shaking. “No.”

Had he been tricked? Had he been conned the whole time?

Process had warned him, and he’d still…

Green sparks crackled around his hair, sourced from his horns hidden within it as the rebel gritted his teeth, dirty hands clenched.

He forced himself to take deep breaths as Abbeth and Uthern both looked at him with concern. He let the analytic tech part of his brain take over, filing away his emotions for later.

“We don’t tell Takami everything at first.” He said coldly. “Let’s see what he knows too. I might be jumping to conclusions. This could also be a trap. We ask for…insane as it is to say it, magical aid in exchange for our information. If he can get all of you new lives, without the empire breathing down your necks, I will wring this for all it’s worth.” 

He looked up at the waxing moons, feeling his heart and resolve hardening again.

Torvah Verdan had lovingly created the guardian artifice, over four hundred long sweeps ago.

Here stood their descendant, hatred literally sparking green in his eyes, for he was so, so tired of being tricked, trapped, and betrayed.

“And if the most recent version of the artifice did survive…nowhere on this planet will be safe from me.” 

--

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES HAS FALLEN.

NOW IS A TIME OF INFERNAL DEVICES.

[cloudbattrolls]

Take the Hook

Jastes Verdan | Safehive, Outskirts of Civitrecce | Present Night

They’d all had to flee the city that night with little more than their clothes and the contents of their sylladexes. Disguises in place, the resistance had all walked, drove, or took public transport to get to their safehive just outside Civitrecce’s suburbs. They’d all taken pains to not be followed there, or to eliminate anything or anyone that tried. 

They could only assume by the lack of imperial response upon their arrivals that they’d succeeded. 

The safehive wasn’t much; it couldn’t be, to avoid attracting attention. In theory - and in most ways - it was a run-down warehouse for a courier business that had seen better nights. Various species of bugs and rodents nested in its roof and under the floorboards of the worn-down porch, and there were few streetlights that remained unbroken in the edges of what could barely be called a neighborhood. 

The place usually reeked from garbage that stewed in the hot sun during the day; droid services only visited once a week. Otherwise it might smell faintly of whatever the food processing plant a mile or so off was handling that night.

Not many trolls lived around here anymore; most had moved closer in, taking advantage of Civitrecce’s public transport lines and droid services at the cost of its endless surveillance and data harvesting.

When Jastes had met them there, after he’d stopped Process and stabilized the city’s power after the outage he’d caused, the missing faces among the resistance had been expected.

But it hadn’t hurt any less.

Now he lay on a bed with frayed and stained sopor-infused sheets, taped over in several places to stop the green substance from leaking out. He stared at the ceiling, dotted with a few spiderwebs here and there.

None of them blamed him. He almost wished they did, even though it wasn’t his fault. How could he have known?

How could any of them have known that the city’s guardian was a twisted disappointment? 

Jamie hunting him had been obnoxious, but he was a highblood. That was their nature.

Process…Process should have been better.

He supposed it went to show no AI could truly have the ethics or feelings of a real person, no matter how complex it was. Troll morality couldn’t be replicated. A machine couldn’t be expected to understand something beyond its capabilities; it had no stake in the feelings of others or how they suffered.

So why did he still feel let down?

He shook his head, annoyed at himself. He was old enough to know better. 

“Jas?” Called Abbeth from past his respiteblock’s closed door, his younger castemate sounding unsure as the faint scent of cooking beef reached the cyborg. “Are you gonna come to dinner?”

“In a few minutes.” He said, trying to sound reassuring. “I have to wash my hands, I’ll be right there.”

He had to move on from this. He had to boost the group’s morale again somehow, as well as his own, if he was being honest. It was a miracle they’d stayed loyal to him after having to flee their homes, and he wasn’t going to make them regret it.

He got up, stretching his lean limbs, and cracking his neck. Maybe he should cut his hair shorter; he didn’t want to get lice while he was here, though they’d already been careful to set up bug traps and repellent inside.

The yellowblood grimaced at the thought as he went and washed his hands, noting that they needed more lemon-scented soap. 

He liked his tight curls. Other trolls had told him he had beautiful hair, and while he was hardly one to fuss over his appearance, it was nice to hear compliments sometimes.

He walked out into…confetti?

“Surprise!”

“Hm?” He said, blinking as confetti was thrown over him and he saw a small pile of wrapped presents next to a broken stereo. He blinked, confused.

“Did you forget your own hatch night?” Said Xineck, shaking his head. “Fucking typical.”

Jastes paused. 

“Maybe.”

“Dumbass.”

He smiled a little and shrugged, palms raised and open in a gesture of concession.

Edri smiled back at him, the brownblood serving out the beef onto plates. The portions weren’t large, but they were enough. She’d made peppers and zucchini as well, and poured everyone juice.

Jastes went to sit down, pulling out one of the old chairs. It creaked a bit as he did so; yet another thing that needed to be replaced down here, but it was lower on the list than the structural repairs. It would still hold him; he hardly weighed much, even with tech.

Still, he took care to sit down gently, and began eating with a word of thanks and a smile, savoring his first bite to really soak in the flavor of the beef and its rich sauce before going to the zucchini. 

Eventually, once he had gotten a decent way through his meal, he spoke, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. He didn’t have to speak up as much as he used to to make sure all of the resistance heard him…he tried not to let his bloodpusher sink at the thought. 

“So…I’ve told you all about Process’s intel. We all know their word is dubious at best, but this is worth investigating. The Spine itself, though it’s currently being studied and dismantled, is also worth investigating. Modern helm generators are so little like it. I haven’t been back since I defeated them, since Latrai’s team is down there…but apparently that’s how to find this system that’s supposedly even deeper underground.”

Edri shook her head as she tried and failed to get another slice of vegetable onto her fork. 

“A rogue security system still sounds silly to me. Robots and drones can go berserk sometimes, if there’s flaws in their code or they’re hacked, but a whole system? Those don’t tend to be able to think. That would take so much processing power. How would someone have not noticed by now, even if it’s hidden away?”

Jastes shook his head. “Process said the guardian isn’t a normal system. Apparently it’s some synthesized hybrid of biotech and hard tech. I guess given my power - my ancestor’s power - that’s not really surprising.” He admitted, looking away from everyone’s faces. It was a bit silly, but…

…well, he’d had to tell the resistance what his power really was, after the blackout had happened. After he’d had to explain what he’d done. 

While they’d outwardly taken it well for the most part, he wasn’t dumb enough to think that everyone was fully comfortable with it.

He couldn’t blame them. It still stung anyway.

A quiet hung over the table as pink and green moonlight shone through the room’s windows, closed despite the heat. 

The resistance leader managed to look back at his people, making a brave attempt at a smile.

“I would never make anyone into anything.” He said softly. “Not unless they were willing. I don’t…you know I hate that kind of thing.”

He tried not to look at Xineck, hoping for support. The maroon shifted in his seat, then muttered something indistinct under his breath.

“He wouldn’t.” The lower-hued man said out loud, a little roughly, but honestly. “He’s never done shit to me, no matter what I said. Never even threatened it. He’s got other problems.” The raptor troll said dryly, and a few uncertain chuckles went around the table as Jastes sighed but figured that was the best he was going to get.

“So, if this is true…if this system exists, didn’t Process say it wasn’t finished?” Abbeth piped up hesitantly. “Is it going to be any good to us, then?”

“They still acted like it was a formidable threat.” Jastes answered calmly. “They’re hard to read, but they seemed genuinely worried about how the empire would respond to it, if their body language was any gauge. I don’t know if we can use it ourselves, but maybe we can strip it for parts and materials if that doesn’t pan out. Having things to sell that can’t be traced would be a huge help on its own.”

A steady murmur of agreement went around the table. Jastes himself was trained as a mechanic, and he wasn’t the only one who had experience handling and selling technology and its raw materials. 

“What exactly would we do with it, even if we could control it?” Asked a voice crisply. 

It was Uthern, another maroon man, but utterly unlike Xineck; he had been raised as a highblood attendant, and was very formal. Jastes had been surprised he’d turned against his supervisors when he had such a cushy position for his caste. Uthern had told him, very evenly, that his position hadn’t done a thing when he’d tried to protect his moirail from being given a so-called mercy cull when she’d gotten sick and had to miss work for a week. 

Just another brownblood, one of low psiionic power, considered disposable. There were always more, the highbloods said. No one ever lacked for lowbloods, especially ones who weren’t valuable psions.

“Protect ourselves.” Said Jastes, slightly incredulous. “Protect other lowbloods. Imagine if we could use something like that, Uthern. We’d actually have some bargaining power.”

The maroon shook his head. “Not for long. We’ve survived because we don’t fight directly, Jastes, you’ve said it yourself. Sabotage, infiltration, blackmail. That’s how we make a difference.” 

“I did all of that, and Abnale still nearly caught me. I did all of that and Process still tried to hijack my body.” He gripped his fork tightly, knuckles whitening slightly. 

“Don’t you go back and talk to both of them?” asked Uthern dryly. “You don’t seem all that concerned, Jastes, if I might say.”

“For intel.” Jastes said tightly, voice very deliberately kept from rising. “Do you think it’s because I like or trust them? That I’ve forgiven them for what they did? That I don’t still go to sleep and dream that Process is trying to get into my head again, that Abnale is hunting me across the city? I had to tear myself open. I had to remake my own brain.” 

The yellowblood clutched the fork so hard it cut into his hands, a few drops of dark yellow blood dripping out and onto the old plastic table. The other resistance who hadn’t spoken looked away, or looked at him briefly, unwilling to break the awkward silence.

“Shut it.” Cut in Xineck, looking at Uthern mutinously. “You want Jas going to pieces in front of us all? That what you fucking want? Trying to see if the cyborg still has feelings? Of course he fucking does, you prick. What are you getting at? Just talk straight.”

Uthern looked awkward for a moment, then shook his head in irritation, smoothing back his hair. Xineck did the same thing to mock him, his own far scruffier than the taller man’s, who somehow still had product with him. The maroon ignored his castemate’s antics and looked at the yellowblood again.

“I just think it’s a little…strange, how much time you spend as an AI, speaking to the people who tried to kill and catch you. Surely you don’t have to actually talk to them, Jastes?” He said, threading his fingers together, plate abandoned entirely. “You could just watch. We almost never engage, that’s our way. That’s how we stay safe.”

Jastes was silent. 

“We aren’t safe, Uthern.” He said after a few moments, voice cracking a little. “Look at the ones who didn’t make it, and we’ll never know why. Dead. Caught and helmed. Just plain decided they didn’t want to do it anymore. Could be any of those. We’ve never been safe, especially not now. I just…I don’t want to lose any more of you. No matter what it takes. No matter who I have to talk to, or what I have to be.”

Yellow tears gathered in the corners of the cyborg’s eyes, and he didn’t bother trying to hide them. He couldn’t find it in him to act strong right now. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Abbeth got up from his chair and walked over to his castemate, reaching his small six sweep old’s arms out to hug the other lowblood. Jastes leaned into the embrace, too done to care that a child had to comfort him, something he’d normally be embarrassed by. But right now being held felt like the best thing in the world, as he wiped his lightly bleeding hand off on his shirt and took deep, shuddering breaths.

“You happy?” Said Xineck after a short pause. “You proud of yourself, Uthern? Get the fuck out of my sight, I’m not as patient as Jas.” A switchblade appeared in the six-horned man’s hand and flicked out, the silvery metal gleaming. 

“You can’t order me around.” Replied the other troll tightly.

“Stop it.” Said Jastes quietly, still holding onto Abbeth. “I know we’re all stressed. We’re all angry, or upset, or sad. But we can’t fight each other. I need all of you to help me prepare before I go find this security artifice, or guardian - whatever it is. That’s my big hatch night present, okay? The presents are a nice bonus.”

He let Abbeth go and managed a watery smile as Xineck snorted softly and a few other trolls chuckled, Edri among them. 

“If you boys are done fighting while the rest of dinner gets cold, I can bring out dessert.” Said the brownblood woman dryly, standing up with her arms crossed.

“Yes, Edri.” Sighed Uthern. Xineck rolled his eyes but didn’t object, essentially equaling an affirmative as he put his switchblade away. The bronze shook her head in amusement and walked back into the kitchen. 

Abbeth sat down again, a hand on his chair as usual to help guide him given his lack of one eye.

Jastes swallowed, steadied himself. He could do this. He would do this.

“Let’s enjoy dessert, no shop talk.” He said to everyone, as lightly as he could. “Then we can brainstorm while I unwrap presents. I don’t know exactly what I’ll be walking into, but whatever it is, I know I’ll be prepared.”

Some smiles, even if a few were unsteady. A few nods. 

It was something.

He’d take it. He’d make it worth their while.

Whatever was down below the Spine, he was going to bring it back and make it work to their advantage. 

No matter what he had to do to make that happen.