Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊
Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—
M:6 D:17
Day 973 of Cycle 3
[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́]
As Rin pulled away from me, bits of my flesh and uniform went with her. It was only then that she seemed to truly notice my injuries, her eyes going suddenly wide and her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
“Oh my god Zyr, that bastard! I’m so fucking sorry—”
“There is no need to concern yourself. I require no assistance in healing my body, only time.”
Her brows knotted together, lips twisting as she considered my wounds.
“Does it hurt? Do you feel pain?”
“It does,” I said. “I do.”
She grimaced, threw a look over at Lore, who sucked in a breath through her teeth.
“Come on,” said Rin. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
We left the marine vessel behind, braced and anchored so that one of Jonathan’s civilian allies might eventually find and reclaim it. Then, boarding the skimmer, we relocated the Mano and set a course. Rin and the others spent that stretch of the journey speaking with Lore, while I focused my attention and energies on recovery. But by the time we’d met with the seafarer at one of its many stops, returned the skimmer to its owner and found someplace to pass the journey, the captain’s attention turned to me.
With Lore under the watchful sensory organs of her crew, Rin drew me a distance away. Onto the broad outdoor walkway lining Forward Deck 3 Section C, leaving the others behind in the extremely crowded coffee shop we’d found. Lore had called it cozy. The sun, near setting, rendered the sky in streaks of brilliant violet and fuchsia.
“Tell me,” ordered the captain.“Everything.”
Drawing us first further away from any beings who might overhear us, I did as she commanded.
By the time I had finished, Rin’s eyes were red with rage and tears, and I scented a hint of her blood in the air as her fists clenched and unclenched, her claws—no, nails—having dug little wounds in her flesh.
“He told me she was dead,” she hissed. “That fucking bastard told me she was dead.”
“I am sorry,” I said. Partly because I had learned this was, among many things, a way to express sympathy. And partly because I truly was sorry—sorry that I had not been sure to kill her ex-husband when I had had the opportunity.
“Don’t be. This isn’t the end of it.”
Reaching out, she pressed a hand to my bicep, just under my shoulder, and squeezed.
“I owe you,” said Rin.
Her lips turned up at the corners, but only just. A shadow of her usual bone-baring smile. Then she turned to rejoin the others. I followed.
Rin was silent almost the entirety of the journey back after that point, but judging by her neural oscillations, her mind was hard at work. The subject of its efforts became evident after we’d finally returned to the house and Lore had parted from the rest of us to go to bed. Indri and Allico had been busy while we were away, upgrading the house drone software and installing safeguards against juvenile hacking. Hopefully, we did not have to worry about another unannounced excursion.
“First of all, we need to call the others,” Rin said as we gathered again in the upstairs living room, once the rest of the crew and household had been informed of recent events. [The others, I later learned, referred to everyone else who’d abandoned Jonathan’s organization in solidarity with Rin.]
The humans all had dark crescents beneath their eyes and mugs full of coffee clutched in their hands. I drank coffee as well, to feel included.
“I hate to send people in without me again, but I need to be with Lore right now, and Lore needs to be safe. So. I don’t want anyone to take this as an order. Volunteer basis only.”
“Just get on with it!” called Shosho from the back of the group, tentacle-tongues flaring from her throat as she yawned.
“Fine,” snapped Rin. “Turs, I’m asking that you volunteer. I need you to—”
“I know your need, my…captain,” she said. “And I’m ready to fulfill it.”
A look passed between them.
“Thank you,” she said. “Tursa, then, and whoever volunteers among you all and the others. You can take Jonathan’s Triton. Assuming it’s still there. If we can get enough of the old crew back, piloting it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I can pilot it,” I informed her. “I will go back.”
Rin looked to me.
“Zyr, I’m going to ask that you stay with me here” she said. “You need to heal, and besides. Jonathan has loyalists in the city. Once they find out what happened, they might come after me. Lore and I, this household, needs the extra protection.”
I considered for a moment.
“Very well, Captain Rin.”
“So we take the base,” said the huntress, drawing the plan back to where we’d left off with it and crossing her arms. Her whiskers twitched up and a single fang bared in what I believe was a smile.
“We take the base,” confirmed Rin. “Hopefully, by the time you get there, they’ll still be more-or-less incapacitated. Most of those people are already on our side as it is, when they’re not being actively brainwashed. If we’re really lucky, J’s bled out by now and his influence is dead with him. And if he hasn’t, we finish the job. See that Ellie’s…remains…are properly dealt with,” her voice hitched, and again she exchanged a look with Tursa.
“Then we’ll be free to restore the EFC to what it was, reinstate them into Lutra’s Sanctioned, and get back to our original mission. It’s more vital now than ever.”
“Er,” said Marah, clearing her throat. “What about funding? Without Mr. Birth-Lottery Billionaire, how do you mean to keep the operation going?”
Rin shrugged.
“As far as everyone’s officially concerned, he’s already been dead for years. He funnels his money through off-world accounts, fake identities, allies. Once he’s dead for real, we just make all of that ours.”
“Just make it ours.” Massaging her forehead with her upper right hand, Marah released a soft groan. “I volunteer as treasurer.”
“I hereby declare it so,” said Rin. “Alright. I have calls to make. Turs, anyone else who’s going…get some rest. That is an order.”
“Wait,” called Indri. The captain turned, wearily, to look back at her.
The other human lowered her voice.
“What are you going to tell Lore?”
“I’ll get back to you on that one,” said Rin. Then she left.
I wished to maintain proximity to her, but resisted…sensing she needed space. Instead I retreated to the spare room which had been assigned to me for the duration of my stay. There, at the center of a mattress softened by numerous mismatched blankets and pillows, I sat to rest. As my primary brain entered an OtherState, my remaining pseudo-brains carried out the directive I had left them with—continuing the repairs and modifications I had already begun on my body.
I returned to my baseline state of consciousness six Elysian hours later. My nearly-severed tentacle still sported a deep wound, but was no longer at risk of breaking in two. The flesh exposed by my burns had begun to mend, but what had been seared away of my t̸̟̀̊r̸̬̙͐̑y̶͍̹͌͘p̴̼̪͊͝t̸̡̾͝ḧ̴̢́͜ỳ̸͎r̸͕̿a̷̺̾x̷̛̹̮̏ had not yet fully regenerated. A soft knocking like that which had drawn me from my OtherState sounded again. Rin was standing at the other side of my door.
Reaching out with one tentacle but otherwise remaining where I was—seated cross-legged at the center of my bed—I pulled the door open.
“You may come in,” I informed the human.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up,” said Rin, padding in across the thick rug (black and white and covered in random geometric patterns, of note because I quite liked it), she came to a stop a few human paces away from me, seeming to hesitate. She wore a pair of soft-looking, gray shorts and a tie-dyed shirt that was much too large for her, and draped off of her shoulders.
“That shirt is much too large for you,” I pointed out. “And yet I find it…appealing on your frame.”
“Er,” replied Rin, chuckling a bit nervously as her hand went up to sweep through her hair. “Thanks.”
“It seems I especially appreciate how it contrasts with the very small amount of fabric covering the bottom half of your body. Fascinating.”
“Are you hitting on me?” queried the human. “Because this isn’t really the best time. I’m…I’m not ok.”
“Captain Rin, I would never hit you unless for some reason you were to be rendered mindless, violent, and extremely powerful, and I was forced to do so in order to protect another.”
She exhaled in a strange way, a little like a laugh. A little like a sob.
“Look. Everyone who’s going is gone. That includes Tursa. I’m. I’m—I feel like shit. I can’t get my brain to shut up. I just want to rest, but I can’t.”
“I am very sorry to perceive that, Captain Rin.”
She sighed, another particular sort of exhalation that I had come to recognize. Her hand ran again through her hair.
“Zyr. Please. Just call me Rin.”
“Very well.”
“I’m here because I need someone to hold me, and of all the options in this house right now, you’re…” she rubbed at her arm as she trailed off, looking away from me and around the room as if she had not seen the inside of it before. “Could we cuddle?”
I regarded her for a moment. I knew much of the nuances of human pack-bonding by then. Extenuating circumstance such as those we were experiencing could accelerate the process, leading to a desire for physical closeness. But considering the apparent monstrosity of my own species in the perception of hers, it still seemed early in our acquaintance for such a development.
And then I recalled something she had said earlier.
“You do not owe me anything, Cap…Rin. Neither sexual nor physical contact of any kind, nor offspring. Please—”
“No,” she said. “That’s not what this is about. I just need the comfort of human con—of contact, alright?”
“Alright,” I said, making room for her.
