Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊
Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—
M:6 D:15
Day 971 of Cycle 3
[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́] [cont’d]
“Not an option!”
Rin had to shout to be heard through the uproar as I suggested she contact Makarian authorities. Marah scoffed, and Indri emitted a hissing laugh. I did not understand their derision. It seemed the easy answer, after all. Once Rin proved herself the fledging’s legal guardian, they could dispatch their seeker drones and find her at once. Their capabilities, after all, far exceeded those of anything this household had access to.
Of course, the house drones had managed to record footage of Lore climbing down from the rooftop…a feat which the pitted biocrete made all too easy. But thanks to a rudimentary yet effective hacking, they hadn’t bothered to alert anyone or do anything about it.
“Even if they would see us in the bedlam after that announcement, I already know where she’s trying to go. And it’s not anywhere the cops or their damned drones can follow.”
Crowding the corridors and stairwells of the house, we trailed Rin to the front door as she dragged on a battered leather jacket.
“How do you know where she went?” wondered Shosho. “Did she leave a note?”
“I know my daughter,” snarled Rin, not turning to look back at her or anyone else. “I’ve already sent one of the housedogs ahead to the docks to start looking for her. Anyone who wants to come with me can come with me, but we’re going now. “
[Dog is how some humans occasionally refer to drones to which they have pack-bonded. It seems important to them that they distinguish these units from those of which they disapprove.]
The rain outside had not lessened. I turned my face upward as I followed the captain out, appreciating the cold and the wet even as another part of me longed for fire.
An unmistakably primate quality.
Bypassing public transportation entirely, Rin used her phone to summon a hovercar for hire. She was the first in when it arrived, yanking a passenger door open so violently it might have come off its hinges if she weren’t so small and human. I was in immediately after her, with Tursa, Shosho, Marah, and Grayman all cramming themselves in after me.
It was a big car, but not quite big enough. I had to be careful to contain my tentacles, lest they twitch toward Rin, or worse…Tursa.
Thankfully, the drive was short.
Despite the late hour and heavy rain, the port bustled with activity. In an absolute uproar, just like everywhere else on the planet, no doubt.
Splitting up to cover more ground, we searched through the crowd of servo-drones and drunken humans. I employed all of my perceptions and even, like the others, stopped whomever I could to ask after the fledging. Most of them barely responded. Others just shook their heads. One man thought he had seen her that evening, but he didn’t know where she’d gone.
With each passing moment, my guilt grew. It was not an emotion with which I was pleased to become acquainted. But I couldn’t stop thinking that I should have sensed Lore’s leaving. Despite my inebriation. Despite the fact that the house was large, too large to be entirely contained within the range of my perceptual abilities.
These rationalizations, however, were pointless. Human emotions have very little to do with reason.
My phone buzzed. It was Rin.
I met with her near a food stall selling grilled tentacles on sticks, which should have been off-putting but instead smelled delectable.
“See that stall guy over there?” she whispered, jerking her head slightly in the direction of a man hawking edible bowls full of some sort of tiny, deep-fried mollusk.
“Of course,” I replied.
She inhaled very deeply.
“He was paid to give me a message. About Lore.”
The expression on her face was grim, lips pulling into a hard line as she looked up at me.
“I surmise this message was an unpleasant one.”
“Zyr, I’m really, really sorry. But…I need to ask another favor of you.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Ask.”
The seafarer was clearly one of the eldest of Elysian’s scattered fleet. A bulging, irregular beast of flesh and metal, its shape reminded me of a bloated shark, floating half-submerged on the surface of the water. But its pectoral “fins” were elongated, winglike, stabilizing the behemoth vessel as it bobbed with the surging of the waves.
For whatever reason, the Warp’s effect was weaker out at sea. Though never mitigated entirely, it was softened and slowed the further one went from any land mass. This had given rise to the seafarers—massive vessels akin to floating, contained cities. They could hover over the water in emergencies, which were frequent, as the seas of Elysian are tumultuous and unforgiving. But mostly they spent their time floating far from land, sending out squadrons of smaller vessels to port for supplies and shore leave.
This one was called the Mano.
It loomed larger and larger ahead of us, the little transit skimmer making good time despite the choppy conditions.
It was not, of course, our final destination. But as it would be cruising relatively close to it as part of its usual rounds, it was our most inconspicuous means of getting there.
The skimmer dipped low, finally meeting the waves as it slipped into an arched opening in the Mano’s underbelly. It docked, and we disembarked—along with a gaggle of residents—half of whom were barely conscious and the other half of whom were exceedingly loud. Very few, however, seemed inclined to stare at me or even to pay me particular notice. In perceiving my surroundings, it was easy to understand why.
Though their life at sea did indeed slow their change, the change still came. And everywhere I looked, a saw translucent, silvery flesh. Fins. Gills. Scales. Tentacles. Clear secondary eyelids.
As far as the residents of the Mano were concerned, I was a perfectly ordinary—if perhaps old—human. Or close enough to one, at least.
Upon boarding, and at Shosho’s insistence, we took an elevator to the upper decks at once because, as she said, “that’s where all the good stuff is.”
The good stuff, it turned out, consisted mostly of bars, restaurants, shops, gambling houses, and open-air hookah parlors. Several were closed in the chaos following the announcement. Those which weren’t were packed. It was in one of these parlors, wiling away the journey, that we encountered a regular—and especially generous—client of Shosho’s. From that point onward in our time on the Mano we wanted for nothing and paid for nothing.
And so, by the time we neared the rendezvous point, we were all overly-fed and overly-caffeinated, save Rin, who consumed very little.
We paid the owner of a small skimmer to rent his vessel. At first, he nearly refused us—saying we could only take it if his servo-drone accompanied us to supervise. But then Rin pulled at her leather jacket, showing the man her inner lapel. I perceived only the briefest flash of something metallic as she let the garment fall closed once more. The man’s expression transformed to one of wide-eyed respect, and he inclined his head to her.
We took the skimmer at a steep discount, sans servo-drone surveillance. By the time we stepped out of the vessel and onto the shore of a barren island with a single spindly dock built out from it, the moons were low in the sky. The rain had stopped at last. It was quiet, peaceful even…the only sounds the waves lapping against the rocks and the occasional rushing exhalation of a large marine mammal, surfacing to breathe in the near distance.
We waited for a long time. Shosho chattered on about nothing in particular. Everyone else stood or sat in grim silence.
And then I perceived it. Something large coming up from the depths, something artificial.
A black tower rose from the heaving waves. As the waters fell away from the platform at its base, a door opened. Several armed humans poured forth, forming ranks. And then out stepped a somewhat slighter man, short dark waves for hair, a thick beard. Blue eyes, crinkled at the corners. It was a face that my human DNA had an instinctively positive reaction to. A face of charisma. He was dressed simply, in dark layers.
“Riiin,” he said, clapping his hands together as he came forward. Somehow, in the limited light of the moons, his eyes twinkled. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Cut the shit, Jonathan,” snapped Rin. “Where’s Lore?”
The man tsked at her.
“I know you remember my message. Yours first.”
Rin sighed.
“Fine.”
Looking back to her crew and Marah, the captain jerked her head. Everyone stepped back, leaving me in the divide between themselves and the submarine-men.
Rin’s face was all twisted up as I looked at her.
“I’m sorry, Zyr,” she mouthed.
The man she called Jonathan laughed, a particularly deep sound in his case.
“You really are incredible, hun,” he said. “What did you tell it?”
She shrugged.
“Told him I was hoping his enhanced perceptions would help us find her.”
Realizing I had not thought to do anything with my face, I attempted to look betrayed. I am unsure of my success as, catching sight of me, Jonathan rose an eyebrow.
“Is it in pain?”
“No,” she said. “He’s just not good at the whole…having a face…thing.”
“Ah.”
At a signal from Jonathan, one of the armed humans raised an unfamiliar weapon.
The shot was nearly silent. An airy thwip, and something cold splattered across my head. At once, my senses dulled. The cold spread through my body, rapidly, cell-by-cell. My tentacles attempted to flare forward…and failed. I could barely move, beyond sliding one foot after the other. Half of the remaining armed humans closed in around me, ushering me down the dock to the tower door.
“You know,” said Jonathan, taking a few steps closer to Rin as his thugs herded me past him. “I really have missed you.”
“Fuck off Jonathan. Where’s my daughter?”
This time, both his eyebrows rose.
“Your daughter? She’s my flesh-and-blood, Rin. You’re barely even her legal guardian. And she doesn’t want to go back to you. Doesn’t want to go back up there to live a half-life crammed in that shitty tin can of yours. Let her go.”
I lost visual perception of her then as I entered the marine vessel, the barrels of plasma-rifles pressed to my back. But I could hear her still.
“You fucking bastard!” she screamed. “We will never give her up! You’ve never even wanted anything to do with…” she paused, and her next breath came as a gasp. “What are you going to do to her? Give her back to me or—”
“Or what, Rin?” queried Jonathan. “You’ve already wronged me in every possible way you could manage.”
I could not make out Rin’s reply. A moment later, Jonathan and the rest of his men followed us into the dim interior. Several heavy doors, hatches and locks clanked closed between myself and the outside world. Between myself and Rin. And as the men half-shoved, half-dragged me into the bowels of the submarine, it began its descent.
