|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:25 pm
Mistral wasn’t having a good day. No! She wasn’t having a good week, and she was really upset about it, and now Babylon was late. They were supposed to have another go at deciphering the blueprints together--but, well, he wasn’t here and Mistral was getting antsy on her own. She rolled out the ancient vellum on the picnic table in the park where they’d agreed to meet, tracing her fingers over the diagram. The actual technology they’d unearthed with the blueprints was tucked in a lockbox under her bed, glimmering faintly with Mercury tech--she could sense it there, a faint ping of an Order signal, too weak to be detected.
Or, she’d be able to if she weren’t a block and a half away. Mistral huffed out a sigh and pillowed her chin in her hands. She’d give him another few minutes, and then she would get the ******** home, because there was something that felt kind of Order, but also… not like Order. Something wrong. And she didn’t want to be there when it reached where she was, so she decided to maybe pack up and go?...
Her care for the old papers ate up more time than she thought, and the weird signature was upon her before she was ready to go. She looked up towards the person coming along the path, and… “Babylon? What the ******** is wrong with you, you gave me a ******** heart attack.”
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:26 pm
“Wrong?” asked Babylon, stepping double-time once she came into sight. He’d been waylaid with more of that awful nausea, although he wasn’t sure if he ought to tell Mistral about that. Zia had been right - having a second starseed in your chest wasn’t a natural state of affairs, and he could already feel the repercussions clear as day. Babylon needed to find a way to the cauldron sooner than later, but in the meantime he had commitments to keep up.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his temple a bit as he came to a halt beside the picnic table. “I’m feeling a little bit under the weather.” Which was an understatement if there ever was one. It was silly not to tell Mistral what he’d done, he realized - Menachem was equal parts her ancestor and his. Space Uncle Mendel, she called him.
“So I did this thing?” he began, moving from his temple to the back of his head, where the gesture became more sheepish than anything. “Like, I found my ancestor’s starseed. So I’m taking it to the space cauldron. But since it’s going to take a while to actually get there, he’s just kind of chilling in the back of my head for now.” He stopped messing with his hair long enough to tap his sternum. “And here,” he added. “It’s a work in progress.”
Anyway, he gestured to the papers she had laid out before them. “This is the stuff we found in the labyrinth, yeah?” All that old text he could make heads or tails of. But - for once, he knew someone who could. “Might actually be to our advantage that I’ve got him here.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:26 pm
“Your aura is ********,” said Mistral, which was probably not the most senstive way to put it, but it was the only way she knew how. She didn’t know what it was about it that was driving that little alarm in the back of her head insane. But something was definitely off there, and she kind of hoped it wasn’t contagious. “I have water back at my place,” she offered. She hadn’t thought she’d be gone long so even though she knew that she probably should bring her medicine just in case--ugh, did it even matter?
She raised both eyebrows. “Uh… you couldn’t have just put him in a box?” Wait, could he hear her? God, she didn’t want Space Uncle Mendel to think she was an insensitive b***h. But she kind of was one. Mistral rubbed her temple and sat back down on the bench, spreading out the papers between them gently. “Yeah, it’s the stuff from past me’s lab,” she said. “Uh, I guess this, here? This is the part we found already assembled.” She tapped the fine-lined drawing, wondered if she could do that if she learned how. Maybe she ought to take a long step away from computer programming and become an engineer. Or maybe both? How many degrees did she even need?
Ugh, she was just going to be a perennial student, wasn’t she? “Not even going to ask why your first thought was shoving something in your chest that prob’ly doesn’t belong there,” sighed Mistral, and she pillowed her chin in her hands as she considered the papers before her. “Does Space Uncle Mendel have any pertinent thoughts on the topic of what the ******** this says?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:27 pm
“You can’t just put a starseed in a box,” said Babylon, though he was trying to be gentle about saying so. Mistral, he reminded himself, was lacking in combat experience and had no reason to know about how starseeds died when they were separated from the bodies they belonged to. “They’re - they’re not just inert crystals,” he explained. “When a starseed is separated from its body for too long, they both die. Menachem was being preserved by the light of Babylon. I needed a place to preserve him, too.”
Seriously, it had made all the sense in the world at the time! But since then, pretty much everyone besides Elke had tried to convince him that he’d made a stupid mistake, and Elke had just wanted him to give control over to Menachem so she could jump his bones.
Which had happened, and Finn could not decide whether he ought to feel the slightest bit used or not.
Anyway, it was time to get down to business to defeat the Huns. Or whatever. Babylon hunkered down over the picnic table and consulted the papers. This is Asimov’s handwriting, said Menachem. She’s such a clever girl. This was her knighthood project. I remember it. Finn nodded.
“He says you were working on this as your knighthood project,” he relayed to Mistral. “What does it do?” he asked aloud, directing the question to the voice inside his head.
I am not a scientist, intoned Menachem, But it appears to be a communication device. The notes say it would be instantaneous and auditory. Had Asimov completed this, I daresay she could have changed the course of the war.
“It’s some kind of long-range space walkie-talkie,” said Finn, translating. “He sounds really impressed.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:28 pm
Mistral wasn’t sure how she felt about learning that the essence of her personhood was basically congealed into a sparkly rock, but she decided she would contemplate the topic in more detail later. Rocks could wait. What could not wait was the Mercury blueprints and whatever technology they held. “Kinda sucks they sent her away, then,” said Mistral, a little pointedly, hurt for no reason she could actually articulate. Part of her was pleased as punch to hear that he was impressed with her, though. The same part of her that was hurt, actually.
Mostly she was just puzzled as to where all these ******** feelings were coming from. C'mon. She'd learned better than that.
“I guess that makes sense,” she says, “but, uh, your aura is really weird, so… you should probably not keep Uncle Mendel in there for too long. Just in case. Because if you die, there will be no one to keep me from dying, and I am an awful, mercenary friend.” But she smiled, to let Babylon know she’d miss him for more reasons than just her personal time of death moving up a few decades.
She traced a line, one of the weird bubbled-out bits that she thought might contain some sort of power source. “My past self’s knighthood project, huh?” Mistral didn’t know what she thought about that. Should she start thinking of her own, present knighthood project? Maybe that was a little bit too, er… maybe she was rushing things, was what she meant. “I wish I had an ancestor to tell me what all I was supposed to do,” she said. “Like, how do I become a Squire? I just… sort of… pass a test? Maybe? How does that work if I had a project? Who’s going to grade my project, it’s not like Space Mom is there anymore. Or like, anyone. It’s empty. Except of those flowers and like. People I bring there.”
Maybe she should just stick a nametag on Babylon. Stand-in knighthood judge. “How do you convince a great big inanimate object that you’re ready for more power? ‘Cause I heard I have to do that!”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:28 pm
Babylon smiled, pleased to know that Mistral would miss him if he died, which was a morbid thing to be pleased about but the heart wanted what the heart wanted. Zia had been concerned for his wellbeing, too, and he was glad for that. (Elke, not as much, but she had different priorities.) "We get upgrades to our magic when we most need them," he said, remembering dropping his glowstick through a sewer grate and receiving his first lantern in its place. "It's sort of random."
In the past it was more structured, said Menachem, because of course he had something to add. It was a knight's duty to decide when their apprentice was ready for the power that accompanies a new rank.
Babylon was not sure what relevance this held in the modern day, seeing as no one had ever made him pass an explicit test for any of his upgrades. Which was probably why Menachem was always so pissed at him, honestly. He supposed they were making up for lost time now: he liked this new, helpful side of his mentor.
As far as I am concerned, Menachem said, sounding a little huffy, Asimov has already earned her Squire rank. It is merely a matter of regaining her powers in the present day.
"You'll just kind of get it when you're ready," said Babylon, shrugging helplessly at Mistral. "That's how everyone gets their power-ups. If it makes you feel any better, he says you're already a squire in his eyes."
Blatant favoritism, he thought, looking back down to the blueprints. "I bet there are still supplies in Mistral to build this," he said. "It's been sealed, right? So everything should still be there."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:28 pm
She didn’t know whether to deflect Babylon’s kind words by calling him a nerd, or to accept the compliment. Certainly she didn’t feel ready for a Squire’s powers and responsibilities--she just wanted them because otherwise she had a gut full of nothing and no real way to defend herself from monsters or over-aggressive opponents. Or Negaverse agents. “Thanks, Space Uncle,” she said. She had no doubt her real life present day uncles would be just as proud of her if they knew she was a superpowered soldier of love and justice.
Mistral sighed through her nose. All of the notations on this page looked so arcane. Was it really science that she was looking at, or magic? And if it was magic, how could she ever hope to echo this kind of intelligence? Menachem could say all he wanted that she was the same person as Asimov, but that didn’t necessarily make it true. She sighed. “I wish I was more like you,” she said to Babylon. “This is… a lot of pressure. I mean, past me made this. She conceptualized it, she built it, and she made it real. I’m just an environmental scientist, and not even a good one.”
Like, she’d be better with functioning insides, but that was pretty much it for her disadvantages and excuses. “If they sealed it right after we left,” she said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the rest of Asimov’s device got cannibalized for, like, more war machines.” Did Mercury have war machines? They hadn’t seen any. Well, there were spike traps in Mistral, but that wasn’t a thing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:29 pm
Babylon could feel Menachem at the back of his head, bursting with pride in Mistral for everything she had accomplished so far. Mistral was abandoned when it was sealed, he said, with surprising gentleness. Such an assumption coming from Babylon, no doubt, would have been reprimanded more harshly. There were war machines, yes, but nothing was removed from Mistral after it was closed. What was being done there was too important to risk it falling into corrupt hands.
“He says that everything is still there,” said Babylon, succinctly.
My sentiments were significantly more complex, said Menachem indignantly. If you will not report accurately, then perhaps I should just take over and speak to her myself.
Which, Babylon thought, would suck, because he was probably going to have to deal with this communication device thing again later and he wanted to remember this conversation. Okay, he thought. I’ll stop editing. “Yes to the war machines,” he said, “No to things being raided and pillaged and scavenged for parts. He says that the research being done in Mistral was too important to risk it falling into corrupted hands, so the entire facility was abandoned and hidden when it was closed.”
It was struck from records, added Menachem. Mistral never fell. Was never conquered. Was never found.
“He says Mistral’s existence was hidden,” said Babylon. It made sense - he’d never heard of Mistral before meeting her, while plenty of other knights were named for places he had at least passing familiarity with. “It was struck from the records. But anyway, yeah, sounds like all this stuff is still down there and you could put it back together.”
Also, wait. “Why do you wish you were more like me?” Babylon asked, sputtering. “I am like, literal trash. I let my friends get corrupted, I do dumb impulsive s**t like sticking starseeds that don’t belong to me into my chest, and I’m making up ninety percent of everything as I go along.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:29 pm
There was clearly a conversation here she wasn’t hearing, but Mistral would just take Babylon’s word for it. He didn’t really have any way to know this and it wouldn’t benefit him to lie, so she would trust him. Also it’d be really easy for him to just let her get killed if that’s what he wanted to do. So. “Well, that explains the lack of bodies.” It was only half a joke. The fate of her Wonder was actually fairly depressing, when she thought about it. If no one had ever found it, if she had died on that mountain, what would’ve happened to the impossible flowers? One thing that they were clear about from the genealogies was that Anabel Au was the last, and only, option for the line of Mistral.
She rubbed her temples and hoped to high heaven that she would at least measure up to where her past life had been going with this. “Okay, so… that’s only gonna take, what, a year? Realistically?” Mistral the labyrinth was huge. She hadn’t even explored all of its first level yet.
After a moment, Mistral folded up her papers and tucked them into her wrap. “You saved my life,” she said. “You’ve probably saved a lot of lives, you nerd. So some of your friends made shitty life decisions, that doesn’t make you trash. And yeah, the starseed thing is kinda dumb and dangerous, but you made that choice for a good, selfless reason. I couldn’t have done that.” Er, that probably didn’t go across right. Mistral winced, and added, “Sorry, Uncle Mendel. It’s true, though.”
She was pretty new to knighthood, but it sure seemed to her like there was more to it than just fumbling along being perfect all the time. Bravery and kindness was probably a fairly large part of it, too, and Babylon had that in spades.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:29 pm
A deep blush spread over Babylon’s cheeks, and he reached over to pull Mistral towards him in a one-armed hug. “Geez, you nerd,” he said, ruffling her pigtails. “Don’t try to be me. Just try to be the best possible version of you. Give the alternate universe versions of yourself someone to look at and say damn, that is one tough-as-nails b***h.” Because, like, alternate universes were definitely a thing. He was friends with living, breathing proof of one.
Anyway, he was feeling optimistic about this despite her despairing over how long it would take. “Menachem, you got any more insight into these plans or how far she was with building this?” he asked out loud for Mistral’s benefit. It was strange, he thought, but he could hear his ancestor ruminating.
The components were all fabricated and completed, said Menachem, a hint of fondness in his voice at the memory. Asimov was very proud of her accomplishment, but had not had the opportunity to assemble the device when the call was made to seal the labyrinth.
“According to him,” said Babylon, “You’ve pretty much already built it, so thumbs up to your past self for doing most of the work for us. Where would the parts be?”
They’d still be in the labs where they were fabricated. Mistral was left pristine, so that work could resume as soon as possible.
Babylon nodded and planted his hands on his hips. He rocked on his heels once or twice. “Okay,” he said. “He says it’ll all be exactly where you left it. A thousand years ago.” Man, reincarnation was weird.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:32 pm
Mistral stuck her tongue out at Babylon and smacked his hand away. If she had alternate universe versions of herself, she really wanted them to be like, super cool rocket stars, flying around in space. She didn’t doubt they looked at their poor crippled alternate universe self and thought, Damn, I have it good. It’s what she would do, anyway. Then she’d move on with her life. “If it’s all constructed, we just need to find everything,” she said. “I wish they’d left a map. I get why they didn’t, but I still wish they had.” She sighed, and then--
If it was left pristine... Who knew what treasures were still in Mistral? Maybe there was a reason that the universe had still chosen to awaken her despite her disadvantages. Like, she was absolutely 100% a worthwhile person, but she was not anyone’s first choice for a superpowered soldier. Nor should she be! It was stupid to expect her to be any good at this. Except for the brain parts. Which she was pretty much made for. “Hey, if there’s not anything else, I will take another hug and then go home to try to decipher what all this stuff does. Please tell me old me was like, forty, and I have time to catch up?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 3:33 pm
Asimov was fourteen, said Menachem, sounding chuffed, and Babylon blanched for a moment before reaching out to wrap Mistral in a proper hug that involved both arms.
“Past you was fourteen when she did this,” he said, stroking her silvery hair. “But we’re sure you’ll be fine. Okay.” He broke the hug, and stepped back to give her space to put the plans away. “Text me if you make any breakthroughs or want to go get midnight pancakes or something.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
