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canyouhearthelight · 6 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 32

As promised, this chapter is 4400 words - much longer than usual, and definitely longer than the last one.

If you cried at the last chapter, you’ll cry at this one. Content Warnings for PTSD episode, mood swings, mentions of large scale violence.

I woke up to a low growl vibrating in my ear. Startled, I tried to sit up – when did I lay down? – only to feel something tightening around my waist. Conor, I remembered vaguely. I had fallen asleep tucked into his lap, exhausted after everything caught up with me. We must have lain down at some point in the night, probably his doing when he started to get tired, too. I could feel my face heating up with embarrassment at the idea of him tucking me into bed like a child. The low noise started again, and I slowly cracked an eye open to see what on earth he was growling at.

Tyche. Of course she would find me like this. And she will never let me live it down.

Trying to preserve some vague shred of dignity, I gently nudged the man behind me. “Cut it out, killer.” I was pretty proud of how calm I sounded. “That’s my sister.”

“So was she.” How did he manage to both mutter and spit the words out like they offended him? It was pretty impressive, if I was being honest.

“Yeah, but the worst Tyche ever did was bust my lip when I was fifteen. Stop growling. Better yet, why are you growling?” I carefully rolled onto my back so I could look at him.

“Keep you safe,” he mumbled. Now that I could clearly see him, I realized he wasn’t even fully awake. Which meant he was threatening an intruder in his sleep. Good to know, I guess?

A glance at my sister showed she was all wide eyes and smothered mirth. Yep, not living this down. Gently but firmly, I moved the arm restraining me so that I could sit up; it turned out to be an exercise in futility, because as soon as I was vertical and trying to smooth down my hair, his arm manifested again and pulled me back against him. I took the conditional victory against the over-protective cuddle monster – I was at least sitting up.

“Everything seems to have gone well after we left,” Tyche managed to choke out through her suppressed laughter.

I just rolled my eyes and leaned far enough to the side that she could see Conor had his shirt and coveralls on still. “I fell asleep after crying all over him,” I explained quietly. “He feels guilty, blames himself for what happened.” I gestured at my face for emphasis. Hujylsogox medical technology could get rid of bruising, but that was only if the damage was in the skin. With all the broken bones in my face, I was still a nifty shade of purple with olive highlights. “I managed to explain it’s not his fault, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be a while before he actually believes that. I begged him for a hug, he gave me one, and then I just fell apart.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I saw that part. Grabbed my stuff and scooted, made sure everyone left y’all alone. I know how you get when people catch you like that, and apparently you needed it.”

My face flushed again and I huffed with embarrassment. She wasn’t exaggerating: I despised people seeing me rattled, especially crying about it. I just felt weak when it happened. “Apparently,” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, eventually I calmed down and realized I needed to go to bed. When I told him, he just grabbed my blanket, wrapped it around both of us, and promised he’d keep me safe while I slept.” I shrugged and glanced down at the now-snoring Irishman. “Honestly, it’s probably the best sleep I’ve gotten since I first woke up on the Ark.”

“Given how he reacted in his sleep to me even being in the room, I’m not surprised,” she giggled. “I mean, obviously you feel safe around him – you don’t even break down like that in front of me.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she waved her hand to cut me off. “I’m not offended, don’t get me wrong. I know you subconsciously see me as someone to protect, you’re my big sister, blah blah blah. He, however, is two meters and two hundred pounds, and has never needed you to protect him. Feed him, absolutely. Save him? Nope.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but didn’t want to analyze it any further, either. Instead, I cleared my throat again to change the subject. “So, what brought you here so early, anyway?”

“Right,” she looked up at the ceiling before looking back down at me. “I did actually come to check on you after yesterday, at least partially. But yeah, I’m also on official business. Arantxa’s trial is today, and Xiomara wants you there.”

“They haven’t tried her yet?” I furrowed my brows, confused. “I thought she was caught in the act?” The act of bashing my brains out in the shower, a distant voice screamed in my mind.

“She was, but the Council has decided to abide by Galactic Law on this. Begin as we intend to proceed and all that. Anyway, Galactic Law requires that the accused be allowed to present a statement at the first opportunity after arrest. No lawyers, thankfully, but she still gets to say her piece.”

“But she was arrested weeks ago?” I was confused. “Shouldn’t they have done that part, already.”

“Two things,” Tyche held up her fingers. “One, we had to be sure you would pull through, or she would have an additional charge against her.” I swallowed thickly, understanding exactly what she meant. “Two, she had to, uh… recover? From some injuries? Before she could actually make her statement?”

I remembered someone telling me Derek had attacked her. “What kind of injuries?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

“Derek may have – okay, yeah. Derek broke her jaw to stop her from hurting you any further, and then broke several of her fingers trying to get her hands out of your hair, because she wouldn’t let go.”

Whoa. While I had known in a theoretical sense what Derek had done in the past in defense of himself and Sam, actually knowing it for a fact was a strange experience. I rubbed the back of my head, feeling the shorn, fuzzy length where it had been shaved. Several fingers. Plural. “Is he in trouble?” I finally asked.

She shook her head. “It was determined to be done in defense of you, so no charges can be brought under the law. Let’s hear it for the aliens – the logic is that people will not come to defense of each other if they have to fear retributive criminal charges as a result.”

At least there was that. One concern dealt with, I sighed. Definitely not looking forward to facing my former friend. “Where does Xio need me, and when?”

“In the Council Chamber, in about an hour and half so you have time to prepare before the trial starts,” she told me with an apologetic tone. “I brought you clean clothes, and your Council pendant. I know you had spare clothes in your office, but I – I had them destroyed.” She whispered the last part, and I couldn’t blame her. I, personally, had never kept spare clothes in my office. Arantxa did, in case I needed them at short notice. If Tyche hadn’t destroyed the clothes, I probably would have, just to get rid of the reminder.

Reaching slightly behind me with a groan, I shook Conor’s shoulder. “Hey, you gotta wake up.”

“No,” he grumbled, pulling me tighter against him. “Sleep.”

You have got to be kidding me. “Dude, I’m not your teddy bear. Besides I have to go see Xiomara.” Telling him that Arantxa’s trial was in a couple hours did not seem like a great idea.

“She can come here,” he yawned, not budging an inch.

Time to pull out the Big Guns, I decided. “Please, Conor, I really have to pee,” I begged. Like magic, his arm pulled a disappearing act and I saw free.

“How did you know that would work?” Tyche asked suspiciously.

“It’s worked on literally every single person I’ve ever shared a bed with,” I smirked. “No one wants to get peed on.”

“Huh.” She actually looked impressed. “Neat. All right, time to stuff you into a bath and get you dressed before the trial.”

Shit, I groaned internally. Suddenly, the living part of the bed sat bolt upright, wide awake. “The fuck do you mean, trial?” he asked, no sign that he had been fast asleep three seconds prior. “Sophie, you can’t seriously think you’re doing this?”

“Are you telling me I’m not?” I challenged, arching a brow in question.

“You know I can’t do that,” he scowled before clarifying. “You were really going to try to go down there, by yourself, and face the…person… who tried to kill you?”

I scoffed. “Of course not. Tyche’s going with me, and the entire Council will be there.”

“I’m going.”

“Say what? Conor, you can’t. This is a criminal trial.”

“She’s right,” my sister interrupted before it could turn into an argument. “Plus, Arantxa will be restrained the entire time.” Conor and I both winced at the name, but she carried on. “Soph is going to give what amounts to a victim impact statement, Arantxa will give her statement, all witness statements will be given and verified, and then she’ll be sentenced. From what I’ve been told, it’s pretty cut and dried. She either did it or did not, and in the event she did, there’s exactly one sentence. No lawyers arguing, no twisting the situation for sympathy.”

“How will they know the witnesses are telling the truth?” Conor tried to argue. “She could still get out of this!”

“Uh, hello?” Tyche started at him incredulously. “We are on a ship full of living lie detectors, genius. You know, twelve foot tall scary-looking mushrooms who can practically read our thoughts when they’re in the same room?” A grumble issued from the ceiling. Noah was clearly listening, and clearly not happy being called a mushroom. “Even back on Earth, we had the technology to detect pheromone changes when people were lying. Do you really believe a species whose communication depends on pheromones can’t tell if we’re being honest?” She scoffed at the idea.

When Conor looked like he was going to keep arguing, I held up both hands. “Stop. Everyone just stop. We don’t have time for this, so let’s compromise. Conor, you can escort us until we go into the Council Chamber, and you can wait until the trial is over if you want. I really don’t have the energy to argue against someone wanting to make sure I’m safe, but you have got to promise you won’t start treating me like I’m made of glass, okay?” He agreed reluctantly. “Tyche, that good with you?” She nodded with a little more enthusiasm. “Okay. Great. Let’s get this dog and pony show on the road. I need a shower, and I hate to ask, but to prevent any further arguing, Tyche can you sit in the room with me and keep an eye on me. If I have a panic attack or something, I’d rather you be in there to cover me up before this dork,” I hooked a thumb at Conor, “barges in to save me from drowning or something equally ridiculous.” The man in question at least had the decency to turn bright crimson and turn his head away.

“Fiiiiiiine,” she let out an exaggerated groan. “You need me to do something about your hair anyway, so that works. Follow me.”

She led me to the door, which I had been under the impression led to the corridor in a similar manner to the original room I had been in upon arriving on the Ark. To my surprise, however, this time it led to a vestibule with five other doors. My sister pointed to three doors off to one side. “Other medbays,” she explained before pointing at the door closest to my room. “Corridor, and this is the bathroom and shower facilities,” she finished, leading me through the final door.

To my relief, the facilities on the other side looked nothing like the hygiene facilities set up on Level One. Where those had been boxy and efficient, clearly human construction, this room matched the typical Hujylsogox design evident throughout the Ark. Four partially closed in, cylindrical showers were set into one wall, with a curtain available for modesty. Closer inspection showed that the water descended in a small waterfall rather than the typical spray.

“Their medbay has a freaking spa,” I murmured in amazement.

When I turned to my sister, she was nodding enthusiastically. “They’re also equipped with sonic cleansers, in the event of hydrophobic species. I tried it, feels like a weird massage. But it works.”

“Should I try that first?” I asked nervously. Even though I didn’t remember any of what happened, there was still a primitive part of my brain that was slightly off-kilter at the thought of taking a shower.

“You can’t.” She sounded distraught. “I know why you would want to, but with your head still broken, Noah was adamant that you only use the water option, and even then, it can’t fall directly on your face. Trickling down is okay.”

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady myself. “Big girl panties, got it.” After another breath, I decided to get it over with and stepped under the cascade. “So far, so good,” I reported with a broken laugh.

“Just keep talking,” Tyche advised.

Dutifully, I kept up a stream of chatter, even if it wasn’t directly about how I was feeling. It was distracting, which was nice. I tried to focus on how luxurious the shower was; the water was the perfect temperature, just the right flow rate. The sound of the falling water was incredibly relaxing, and combined with the swooping design of the shower, it gave the feeling of washing off under a stream falling into a cavern. All of the soaps felt and smelled nice, and reminded me of herbal tea in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I mused out loud where Noah learned about Terran soap, and was told that someone on board actually made them and programmed the recipe into the consoles.

Finally, I couldn’t put off the part I had been dreading: washing my hair. With a shaky breath, I started lathering what had been left behind after my impromptu haircut, and was surprised to find I was fine. I even managed to close my eyes and enjoy it – I had always loved washing my hair.

Suddenly, my fingers caught in a tangle and pulled. All the air left my lungs in a rush, and I distantly heard a thud as I fell to my knees. Tears were rolling down my face as I desperately rinsed my hands. “Tyche,” I gulped back a sob. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I was okay until I started washing my hair, and then it pulled and – “ The shower curtain was yanked back and I looked up at my sister, so consumed by panic that I couldn’t even bother being embarrassed that I had fallen down crying while doing something as mundane as washing my fucking hair. We don’t have time for this, I berated myself.

She didn’t even bat an eye. “We need to rinse it somehow,” she rubbed the bottom half of her face. Snapping her fingers, she seemed to have an idea. “Be right back,” she said, pulling the curtain closed. It jerked back again briefly. “I’m not leaving the room, stay in there, okay?” Not waiting for response, she snapped the curtain closed again.

While she was gone, I tried to take several steadying breaths, and even managed a couple that didn’t shake. As I adjusted so I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, I heard her talking to someone. “Grab me a bucket…No, a clean one! No, she isn’t about to puke. For fuck sake, just get me a damned bucket!” A couple minutes later, an arm holding a bucket poked around the curtain. “Here’s our solution!” she proclaimed proudly before her head joined her arm. “Turn around, grab your knees, head back.”

I did as she instructed. Without further ado, she filled the bucket before turning the water off, and gently started pouring the water over my soapy hair. Instead of running her fingers through it, she lifted the ends toward my scalp and gently bounced my hair to ensure the water got all the soap out. Once she was finished, she asked if I would be okay drying my hair.

My throat closed at the thought. Unable to speak, I shook my head in response. Not showing the slightest bit of inconvenience, she grabbed a towel and gently wrapped my entire head in it to soak up as much water as possible. Once she removed the towel, she sprayed something in my hair that made me sneeze. “Sorry,” she said distractedly. “Gel.” Once again, she started scrunching my hair toward the scalp.

Finally, she declared me done. “That’s as good as we’ll get without a blow dryer. We may have to limit you to sponge baths with me washing your hair until your face finishes healing.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, so embarrassed at this point that I didn’t even want to stand up. I had just fallen apart, like a fucking child. It was so weak, even more so than falling apart on Conor the night before. I couldn’t even take a shower without being afraid to wash what was left my hair.

“Soph, stop,” Tyche commanded in a voice that usually made grown men shake slightly. Through sheer practice, I ignored her. It was to no avail, apparently, because she kept talking. “There is nothing wrong with you. You were assaulted, damnit! There’s nothing weak about wanting to avoid the place you were, or the things you were doing when it happened! It’s the most normal thing in the world. Which means you aren’t some freak, or some failure, you’re just depressingly, heartbreakingly normal for once in our fucked-up lives. It’s okay to be scared, or depressed.”

Part of me knew she was right, but another part just wanted to skip ahead to the part of my story where my hair had grown back and I could wash it again. Or just rewind and have none of this happen. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself what happened and who was behind it, my brain refused to acknowledge that Arantxa did this. It could comprehend the assault well enough to force me into panic attacks just from snagging my pinky on a knot in my hair, but refused to admit who was responsible.

I didn’t even realize I had been talking out loud until a voice responded from the ceiling. “As your sister has kindly explained to me, Wisdom, human brains are not meant to handle such trauma. The – psyche? – psyche breaks. Eventually, I understand it will heal, just like your bones do.”

The absurdity of Noah trying to reassure me in their clumsy way forced a small smile on my face. “Thank you, Noah. Maybe today will help, with the trial and all.” There was a slice of my mind that tried to hold on to that hope, or at least to the idea that I would finally be able to accept who was responsible for the attempt on my life. It would at least be a step in the right direction. Pulling myself together – despite the fact that Tyche had told me repeatedly in the past that she hated watching me ‘switch modes’, as she put it – I managed to stand without wobbling – point to me – and ask my sister for some clothes. Shakily, I was able to dress myself without help, although I did have to sit down once I had my pants on. I drew the line at shoes, however.

“Soph, you’re going to be a witness at a criminal trial,” my sister explained in a frustrated tone, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You can’t go barefoot.”

“I don’t like wearing shoes, to begin with, and you know it,” I countered. “Even on the best of days, I kick them off constantly, and this is far from the best of days. Besides, you said this will be in the Council Chamber, right?” She nodded. “Okay, well, you know as well as I do: that room is most certainly not large enough to walk around in unless you have to. Even if I stand up to testify, no one will see my feet, so it really doesn’t matter.”

She scowled at me. “You still have to walk there,” she admonished.

“So?” I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure they’ll be less concerned with my bare feet than they will be with this.” I gestured to my head. The scowl intensified, but she gave up on making me wear shoes, at least.

Feeling at least a little triumphant, we exited the bathroom and collected Conor. “Your hair looks good like that,” he ventured in a tentative tone.

I waved it off. “It’s okay, Conor, I’m not terribly concerned with my hair. The only reason it was as long as it was is because I couldn’t be assed to cut it. Thank you, though. I’m glad it looks okay.” He stood straighter in visible relief, and I couldn’t blame him, honestly. Even I knew that women in general could be notoriously touchy about our hair; I just wasn’t one of them.

The journey to the Council Chambers took long enough that I was relieved that the episode with the shower hadn’t taken any longer than it did. Not because of my bare feet, like my sister constantly tried to argue on the way there – the entire ship was temperature controlled, so the deck plating really was not cold on my feet – but because we were really pushing the hour and a half window Xiomara had given us. As I reminded Conor that he could not enter the room, Tyche signaled our arrival.

Conor had just taken a reluctant seat next to the door when it slid open to reveal my fellow Councillor, more frazzled than I had ever seen her. Brushing past my sister, she grabbed my shoulders firmly and turned me side to side, examining me. Releasing her breath in a whoosh, she collapsed slightly in what seemed to be relief. “Part of me could not believe you were alive,” she admitted. “I had to make sure you were really here.” She squeezed my arms gently, the closest she ever came to a hug in my experience.

Just how bad was it? I wondered in trepidation. Instead, I asked out loud “Why am I here so far ahead of the actual trial?”

“I want to go over everything with you so you’re prepared and don’t get blindsided,” she explained, glancing at my sister. When I turned to glance her direction, Tyche ducked her head and turned away.

Seeing that, I threw both hands in front me of me, palms out. “Hang on. What the actual fuck is going on here?”

”Language,” two voices scolded from the ceiling. Right. I was in the corridor. Had to be somewhat professional, apparently, despite nearly dying.

I tried again through clenched teeth. “What is going on? I thought this was just a trial charging her with assault and sabotage of the ship.” I looked between my sister and Xiomara again. Conor, at least, looked as confused as I was.

Taking a deep breath, Xiomara spoke. “Yes, she is being charged with sabotage of the ship, and with attempted murder, not assault. Even then, those are only two of the charges.” She paused and looked up, rubbing her mouth and jaw with one hand. Was she bracing herself? “Arantxa Bidarte is also being charged with two additional crimes. One is conspiracy to commit murder – “

“Wait,” I interrupted. “She’s already being charged with trying to kill me. Why conspiracy?”

“Conspiracy to kill Noah,” she clarified. “The sensor damaged was intended to destroy the ship, or at least delay it until they could figure out a way to destroy it. That would kill Noah, entirely, so ‘murder’.”

I nodded in understanding despite the sudden need to vomit. They planned to destroy the ship? “What about everyone else on board?” I asked in confusion.

“That’s the fourth charge,” was the grim reply. “I ordered your sister not to disclose this any sooner, because I wanted you to recuperate as much as possible prior to today.”

I stared at my sister, incredulous. Without looking at me, she closed her eyes and nodded, jaw set in such a way that I could tell she was clenching her teeth, too. “She still outranks me, unfortunately,” she told me drily.

“What is the fourth charge?” I demanded. If she ordered my sister to keep a secret from me – not asked, ordered – there had better be a damned good reason.

“Genocide,” Xiomara whispered. My eyes grew so wide it was actually painful, and every breath of air rushed from my lungs. “If they had succeeded, it would have wiped out what’s left of humanity. Galactic Law or Terran, wiping out an entire race is genocide.”

“What – “ I sputtered. “That’s – what do you even do for something like that?” My brain was still trying to comprehend what I was hearing. Genocide? I could vaguely remember reading about war criminals being found guilty back on Earth about fifty years ago, most being sentenced to life imprisonment. Where would we even imprison someone –

“We didn’t know when we decided to charge her under Galactic Law,” Xiomara choked out. “You have to believe that. There’s only one punishment for genocide or conspiracy to commit it.”

“You’re shitting me,” Tyche gasped, realizing something I didn’t. It wasn’t any wonder: she had been given days or weeks longer to process all this, while my brain was still trying to catch up to ‘genocide’ to begin with.

Xiomara, though, shook her head grimly at my sister. “I’m not. If she and any of her conspirators are found guilty of – that – they are to be sentenced to immediate execution.”

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