Recruiting Once More

[Kyeera Hastur]

The Steadfast

Kyeera stands in the cavernous atrium of her penthouse, the only lights in the home coming through the massive windows from the lights of a sea of speeders and small ships zooming through the air below them. Kyeera turns from the window. Her dark eyes reflect the lights as she focuses on Tik performing some mundane chore, her gaze holding only a great weariness.

What mundane chore do I interrupt?
What have I done to make you suspicous?

[Tikreta]

Tik whistles softly as she goes about carefully watering the plants arrayed about the penthouse. Had they been given the choice, their hideout would have been somewhere more remote, somewhere they could have had a garden. Tik of course cannot provide biological material to be used for reproductive purposes -- their own biology is strange and ill-suited to this dimension, and would almost certainly be incompatible with the captain's -- but it would have been nice if they and the captain could have shared in the growing and raising of something alive nonetheless. But this makes the Captain happy, this massive metropolis, and that's enough for Tik.

Plus the dancing is much better here than somewhere rural! They were dancing last night, which is the source of the song Tik whistles as they care for the plants.

The frustration and inconvenience of losing the ability to change their form is tempered by two facts: first and most important is that it was the consequence of a terrible sacrifice by someone they were both close to, but a distant second is that at least it's a form that can do things like dance or water the plants. Tik thinks of it as their default form, a round-cheeked, curvy humanoid of indeterminate gender, short shaggy yellow hair and smooth pale blue skin. It would be nice to be able to change clothes, of course, it was always one of Tik's guilty pleasures about being a shapeshifting interdimensional projection, but the form-fitting generic shore leave crew uniform wasn't the worst fashion statement one could make. Even if it did uncomfortably remind one of the crew.

The captain doesn't sigh, not audibly, but there are certain dimensional vibrations when an entity feels such an emotion. Tik has always been good at sensing them. They look over their shoulder as Kyeera turns away from the window. Uh oh. That's the 'this is going to be a difficult conversation' look. Tik knew there was one coming. The captain never keeps secrets from them unless it's something serious that they're not going to agree on, and she's been sending messages in secret the last few days.

How different am I from when we first met?
What do you love most about me at this moment?

[Kyeera Hastur]

Tik was so different from how they used to be. Obvious physical differences aside, they were more settled now. More comfortable. When the strange, extra-dimensional creature had come to them for help, their physical form practically buzzed from agitation and worry. It was so nice to see them relax. To see them whistle and dance to the tunes from the nearby nightclubs. Though even that gripped her heart, her gloved hand gripping her ornate cane with anger that she could not join her lover in these simple delights.

But she loved them anyway. Loved how little it took to make them happy. Loved that she could experience those little vignettes of happiness through her. That love didn't assuage her worries, unfortunately, but it did help.

Our home is filled with beautiful things that reflect my care for you...

The tapping of Kyeera's cane echoed through the vast room as one of her facial tendrils twitched in a familiar gesture for Tik to follow her as she walked. Walked past statuettes of past victories, and portraits of them in their glory days, the shadows of the unlit corridor making their faces, in Kyeera's troubled mind, dark with disdain and judgement. Stopping briefly, she lifted the head of a flower towards her, taking in its delicate scent. She didn't much care for all of the plant-life that now littered their home... but it made Tik happy for whatever reason.

[Tikreta]

...and I look at the one item that reminds us of the crew, reigniting older memories.

Tik trails behind the Captain, studying her body language as she walks, the silence growing more and more concerning.

They walk past familiar objects, many of them art from one outing or another, that hilarious disaster of a vacation to Tersain-4, the peddler on the streets of Athrodu that would not leave them alone... but not all of them are art. Not all of them are fond memories, but most of them are abstract enough that the context can be conveniently overlooked.

But then there's the image display, cycling through its collection of thousands of images, taking up much of the wall at the end of the hallway. Tik had tried to carefully curate the image databank it pulled from, focusing on touristy photos and personal portraits of the two of them. The memories of their adventures were hard enough when they were only locked up in their heads. But apparently they hadn't curated it well enough, because there in not-quite-life-size-but-damned-close-enough was a portrait of the crew in their happier times, during that ridiculous shore leave not long before... before everything went wrong.

Tik stops suddenly, a shiver of anguish rushing through them. They'd never realized that Lav had been standing behind them making a face.

I miss Lav. I miss Xi'asz and Betua and...

No. No, they would NOT think about the sacrifice. They would not think about the crew. The crew had abandoned the Captain, and that was not forgivable. They had made their choice, and that was it.

The ache didn't go away, though.

I've been working on a project, and I invite you to sit with me as we speak.

[Kyeera Hastur]

Kyeera takes a turn at studying Tik's face. She can see the pain, the longing, etched into their ethereal features. She wants to offer a comforting word, but she has none. None of the words she has can come close to comforting. Not now...

She watches as Tik drifts away a few steps, and, in an effort to distract themselves, picks up the stylus of their digital painting-pad. It was a small thing, to be able to pick up a pen, or a watering can, and manipulate for someone from this dimension. But Tik wasn't from this dimension, and until recently, this hobby of theirs was merely a way to practice and grow stronger in their ability to manipulate the matter of this dimension.

They were getting quite good, too. And she desperately wished that that was a good thing...

...And I point out how you've been using this project to avoid the truth we can't escape.

A few steps brings Kyeera to Tik's side, and she finally breaks the silence. "You've been getting good at that," she remarks, her tone quiet and teetering on accusatory. She reaches, taking Tik's hand in hers and turning it over gently, plucking the stylus from it and placing it back with her other hand.

It felt good to hold her hand again, even through the damned gloves that she wore all the time now. But it shouldn't. Tik shouldn't be strong enough for her to touch. She turns Tik to face her, her eyes piercing through their luminescent orbs. She brings their faces close to each other, so close she could practically feel Tik's breath against her lips. So close that she could almost...

No... She wouldn't. Even if they could, the moment would always be tainted by what she knew.

Squeezing Tik's hand once, she lets it drop, her own coming to rest on the other that grips her cane.

"You shouldn't be this strong," she tells Tik. "Our work isn't finished."

All this time, the captain's eyes never leave Tik's. But they change drastically. Already, the wheels are turning, and weariness is replaced with resolution. A silent question from Kyeera rises between them.

What will cost me your loyalty?

[Tikreta]

No.

No, this is not happening.

"I'm just getting better at it, that's all," Tik protests, but the words ring false even to their own ears. "I've had time to focus, now that we're safe. Now that we're..."

Tik doesn't breathe, exactly. Their projection shifts the air with their movements, the parting of their lips as Kyeera draws kissably close making it feel like breathing, but the sudden hitch when the captain pulls away feels like a caught breath. They've tried to explain to others how their biological self can be contained within the vastness but their consciousness can be projected here, and what it means for common biological processes such as breath. Dr. Argent came closest to understanding, but how do you describe a four-dimensional being to a three-dimensional universe? They've largely given up on being understood and have convinced themselves they're content simply to be needed. Even wanted sometimes.

"Now that we're together," Tik whispers, turning away as the captain draws back.

They focus their will and become incorporeal again, the stylus falling through their hand to clatter on the table, roll off the edge and hit the floor.

The words are spoken before they even fully form them in their consciousness.

"Why am I not enough for you?"

The plaintive note in their voice is irritating, like an object they can't pick up, can't manipulate, can't control.

"Maybe the work isn't done," they continue, "But why do we have to be the ones to pick it back up? Why would you do this to yourself, after what happened? I would follow you to the ends of every dimension, Kyeera Hastur, but you can't ask me to like putting you back in the path of annihilation."

It's uncomfortably clear that the captain's mind is made up, though. Love is knowing when you've lost.

"Very well," they say finally, head bowed. "You won't be dissuaded. I have one condition, though."

They lift their eyes again. "You cannot keep me safe, like one of your pretty statuettes," they say, gesturing to the hallway of mementos. "You have to let me take risks. You have to let me fight in my own way. With the weapon you've given me, even if you meant it as a joke at the time."

I won't hold back in fear this time, and I won't let you take me for granted. I need you to prove that I'm more than a decoration to you, they think. Even the thought chills their insides. Could they ever be disloyal to the captain? It's an intrusive thought, but one they've had more and more of late as their lives have grown mundane. If I am not enough for you, then let me be more.

[Kyeera Hastur]

Kyeera wants to answer truthfully, but she, herself, doesn't quite know what the truth is. At least, she isn't quite sure how to put it into words. Was it a biological or societal need? She wasn't a young woman anymore. In fact, she was drawing close to her matron years, and the need to produce offspring can be overwhelming for some. But she hadn't been at the whims of her biology since everything fell apart. And she'd long since disregarded the pressures her peoples' cultural norms placed on her.

So was it something else?

"You're not..." she begins, hesitating for only a moment as a slight pang of shame crosses her face. "...here. Not all the time, and almost never in the ways I want you to be." Her mouth opens to continue. To soften the blow with an "I love you, but...", but there was no softening this blow. And she wouldn't dare. She deserved the guilt and the hurt that this statement brought, but she knew Tik didn't. That's what really stung.

She couldn't express either the emotions she felt that prompted such an honest, if incomplete, answer. She was afraid. Afraid and strangely hopeful. If the work isn't done, then maybe things don't have to stay this way. If they can finish the job, really finish it... then maybe Tik could be more. Maybe they could be here.

"I'll let you do whatever you feel is necessary," she promises, her voice strong and resolute, even if her will felt weak. Weak enough that, if push came to shove, she'd have no problem breaking that promise if it meant keeping them safe.

[Kyeera Hastur]

The atrium is quiet. Kyeera's acceptance of Tik's terms, and her difficult answer ringing in their ears as the stand and look at each other for a moment. Only for a moment, as the captain's eyes flit over to the digital display behind Tik, and she sees a face that she knows was removed from that database. Tik had pulled it the first time it had reared its ugly head. An image of Zimeon, the ship's resident tinker, working in his lab on the ship. Nose buried deep in his work, tears began forming at the memories it dragged out of her. But no tears came as her blood ran cold when the picture moved.

Zimeon looked up at her. Looked at her in a way that Zimeon had never looked at her. A look that screamed hatred and bloodlust, and a smile that let her know that he would enjoy making her death a slow and painful one.

And just as her fear became too much, her tendrils twitching and her eyes wide with panic, he vanished. A picture of the crew enjoying drinks at some dive bar taking his place.

[Tikreta]

"You're not..." she begins, hesitating for only a moment as a slight pang of shame crosses her face. "...here. Not all the time, and almost never in the ways I want you to be." Her mouth opens to continue. To soften the blow with an "I love you, but...", but there was no softening this blow. And she wouldn't dare. She deserved the guilt and the hurt that this statement brought, but she knew Tik didn't. That's what really stung.

What can Tik possibly say to this?

It is the brutal, honest truth. They aren't here. They've never been. here.

And no matter what they've sacrificed, the potential relationships, the potential options they've had to help their people that they've turned down out of devotion and belief that it would be the captain that represents their people's best hope, the things that would have made Tik happy, none of it has mattered.

Not enough.

"I understand. Thank you for your honesty," Tik says, laying their incorporeal hands on the table as though they would use them to influence the physical world, to push themselves up (to be here, Tik thinks) to standing. "We have a great deal to get done. You'll be contacting the rest of the crew, of course. If we're to finish our work, then we all have a part in that. I will start the process of departing here while you focus on that."

Tik walks from the room without looking back at the captain.

* * *

In a distant dimension, at angles to this one that defy geometry, in space so folded that it frays at the edges, a consciousness reaches out.

Mental fingers probe at distant star systems, caress distant minds and then reach inside them.

It is not gentle.

The screams travel along the mental connection, light years distant in physical space, merely the diameter of an electron away in this folded reality.

The screams nourish the consciousness. New areas of its being awaken. The screams fade, but not because the minds have died. That would be a blessing. These minds now belong to the consciousness.

To the Enemy.

To the mind now at its center, now waking up from an unwanted slumber. One thing, one thought, rises above all growing cacophony of the billions of minds now seeking to do its bidding.

I'm coming for you, captain.

[Kyeera Hastur]

The Believer

Kyeera steps into the lecture hall, a stark contrast to the dark and brooding atrium of her penthouse. Brightly lit, and packed to the brim with students, books and educational diagrams, she couldn't help but feel claustrophobic, even in such a large, open space. Despite attempting to merely slip in unobserved, her presence does not go unnoticed by Dr. Argent's students. She makes a show of standing stoically in the entrance, watching her old comrade speak to the galaxy's future heroes.

How are you giving hope to others?
How does that reflect my legacy?