OOCS, Into A Wider Galaxy, Part 634
(I need to get my sleep schedule under control again. Jesus Christ.)
Herald of Red Blades / Tread Softly Around Sorcerers
“You look lost in thought. What’s up?” Umah asks him.
“I saw into The Dark Forest. I saw a man carrying the soul of another and... I really need to use these freaky eyes of mine more.” Harold notes wryly. Then he blinks. Considers and gives her a very intense look.
Despite herself Umah moves her hands to cover her privates. Suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. “Stop that.”
He looks away.
“Sorry.”
“What were you looking at?”
“I wanted to see if the child already had a soul developing. And the answer is yes.” He says before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
“Why is that a... oh shit. If an unborn baby has a soul then... this is tying legal things into religious things again and tying it tight.”
“Such as the fact that if a baby has a soul then aborting a baby for any reason is state sanctioned murder of the innocent and helpless?” Harold asks softly and Umah’s eyes go wide as she stares at him. “To say nothing of adding to the immense legal complications around clones and... oh boy. I just kicked over an anthill the size of a mountain.”
“Yeah.”
“I need to report this... and I also need to calm down a bit. Hmm... how to have fun with this... I know.”
He brings out his communicator and goes to the contact called ‘The Room’ basically a place where anyone in intelligence can just post little things they’ve learned to see if anyone else can confirm or make use of it. Informtaion that by itself isn’t classified, but can still help, just not with the general mission. A lot of profiles and documents get absurd levels of detail thanks to the endless parade of little blurbs.
As he watches he sees some people mention they’re not sure how the Floric Kudzu is even alive as he just did something stupid that according to math says he should not only be dead, but but not have enough left to bury. Another person wonders if it’s a superpower. Then there’s a quick blurb about a profile being updated.
‘Hey guys, I just found out that Brin’Char is literally carrying the literal soul of his dead brother, The Dark Forest is protecting his soul and my unborn Takra-Takra child has a soul. Have fun!’
Question marks, demands for more information and a lot of swears FLY across the screen and his original comment is nearly a thousand messages deep in seconds flat.
“Job well done.” He notes to himself.
“What did you do?”
“Put world changing revelations on a public forum because that shit hasn’t been classified and is not going to be classified.”
“What if they do classify it.”
“Then I’m going to un-classify it with every ounce of power I can abuse. This is the kind of thing that needs to slip out. It’s not something that will tactically advantage the Undaunted to keep secret, but will FUCK US if we’re found keeping it a secret. Being the saint of a religion might be annoying at times, but being the Satan figure is worse.”
“Yeah, I see that. Still... Some people... I mean... I’ve looked up the statistics. There are a lot of mothers who try too early and have complicates meaning...”
“Yeah. This is going to kick off an insane amount of debate. And that’s IF I’m believed, others will call me a crackpot, trying to get attention. Others will point to one random thing or another and claim it disproves me, or even fabricate evidence to either support or counteract it. The existence of the soul is big on it’s own but has precedent and doesn’t shake the boat too much, having it present in the unborn is going to make a lot different people feral in a lot of different ways.”
“And a lot of people will be trying to see if they can get you to confirm or deny if some kind of advanced AI is a person, or at what exact point the soul comes into a baby, or when a person’s soul transfers into a synth body oh! Oh! Imagine if you find out that Synths don’t have the same soul they did when they have flesh! Or if they don’t have them at all!”
“I’ve spotted Synths. They have souls.” Harold says.
“Oh. Okay. Still, it’s a lot.”
“It is.”
“And how is Brin’Char carrying his brother’s soul?”
“I don’t know, but from what I could see he was doing it long enough that he was basically a part of him.”
“He ate his brother?”
“No, he was just holding on for so long that it’s just part of him to keep doing it.”
“Sweet and sad.”
“Yeah.” Harold says.
“Oh. You are back... what happened? I was told a friend of yours arrived to borrow you for a few minutes.” The Realtor says walking into the room and Harold nods.
“Yes, he had some concerns and I am the closest thing to an expert on the subject he can find.”
“... Did you cut someone Saint Redblade?”
“I cut through the nonsense and found out some fairly important things.” Harold notes with a shrug. Then his communicator finally goes off. He chuckles as he moves to answer it on speaker. “Expected that seconds after posting not minutes. Hell-”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE UNBORN HAVE SOULS!?!”
“I mean that if I focus I can see the adorable little souls of my babies.”
“Why didn’t you point this out or learn it before?!”
“I’ve had a LOT going on! Come to think of it I really should have noticed when the eggs Giria laid had the inner light of a soul to them too.”
“GAHH!”
“I’m so glad we can speak of things in such a calm and reasoned manner.”
“I HAVE CONTROL OF ARTILLERY BATTERIES!!”
“Bitch, I fucking dare you.”
“This building is not rated for artillery fire.” The Realtor says in a complete deadpan.
“That was the correct answer. So you’re going to have to hold off on the big guns.”
“When I’m through with you The Impaler will tell me to cool it!”
“Again. Bitch, I fucking dare you.”
“You can’t just drop that kind of information on us and completely fail to elaborate!”
“Sure I can! I’m on forced vacation! I’m not allowed to do more!”
“I will floss my teeth with your spine!”
“My friend, for... you know what? No. You’re some kind of Hippo person, this completely tracks.”
“A what?” Giria asks in amusement.
“OH, this is the voice of Marley Guur that’s screaming at me. He’s a Habdora, one of the most aggressive herbivores you’ll ever...”
“Oh them! What is one doing in Intelligence?” Giria asks.
“I will turn your ribs into toothpicks!” Marley screams.
“Calm down and...” Harold begins and there is a crunching noise as the call gets disconnected. “It’s good to hear that he’s getting such a good grasp on his temper.”
“That was a good grasp?”
“Oh yeah, he’s just threatening me and not trying to teleport in to kill.”
“What use is a man like that?”
“Hard reinforcements. Basically if a mission is going to shit or they need a big distraction, then suddenly a Habdora is nearby and breaking things.”
“... I am not familiar with the Habdora.”
“Not the tallest species, in fact Agatha is just a little less than twice as tall. But they’re rippled with a lot of muscle directly under a very dense layer of fat and extremely tough skin. You’ve seen some bits about us Undaunted right?”
“Yes.”
“Ever spot the men that have very prominent guts and seem to have a more squat frame despite being just as tall as the others around them?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a strongman build. Sheer brute force. I’m more an athletic build. Anyways, the Habdora havea natural strongman physique.”
“Strongman?”
“Human term for it. It’s all based around actual functional strength, so the muscle isn’t concentrated in the places that are traditionally seen as appealing. At least, not the way that other physiques are.” Harold explains.
“Okay but... in Intelligence? You are an Intelligence Officer correct?”
“Yep. Never underestimate how valuable a good distraction is.” Harold replies happily. Then he glances at the communicator again. “More spirit nonsense, news at eleven. Okay, so I’m not the only bit of... Oh The Flying Dog is just about back. Hopefully that ends well.”
“The what?”
“Ship testing the viability of transporting dangerous substances across the Axiom Lanes. Nothing wrong so far, but pray for luck anyways.”
•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Just outside the Council Chamber, Satha Family Palace, Soben Ryd)•-•-•
Warli’Satha marches forward with great intention as she carries the documents with her. Why did no one else see it? Why did no one else understand? How could they ever be great without besting their enemies? The Rella had split from them long ago, they were their opposites, their enemies. They had to be beaten. Not killed. That was savagery. But beaten. Proven inferior. Proven that they were wrong for leaving the Satha and that there was nothing they could do about it now. That they were the dead weight that had kept the family down and without them the Satha would soar.
She enters her mother’s Council Chamber and finds her sitting, only mostly attentively, at the proceedings going on. She held her cloned and returned brother closely.
And that too is a great mess. One that the damnable Rella had also mimicked. She had seen the boy. Knew who they were a copy of. The weaponsmith son, Naird. Fire willing none of Satha blood will feel the sting of some absurd Sorcerous weapon.
Worse still, Bruna’Rella was there. She had seen the sorcerous double of Naird’Rella. She knew she had a weapon. But how to counter it without turning Torn’Satha’s double into a weapon himself? She cannot lower herself to that level, and must rise above it. But how does one stop a natural disaster without destroying the very thing you’re trying to protect?
Not easily. But nothing worthwhile ever comes easily.
She smiles at the sight of her sibling and he looks cautious. Wary. It’s good that he is. But he need not be wary of her. No doubt Bruna’Rella truly shattered her first impression. Damnable witch.
“Here you are mother, I have brought the relevant files from Magi’Wolr, she’s filing her own copy and merely needs your signature on this data slate to properly rename our recently recovered brother.” Warli’Satha says handing over the data-slate and then reaching out to ruffle the hair of Roob’Satha, but he flinches ever so and she frowns just a touch.
Damnation, how does one actually use diplomacy around a cautious sorcerer? Is it even possible?
It doesn’t matter. Possible or not. It has to be done. So she’ll find a way to do it.
“Nervous?” She asks him. Making sure he has his space and isn’t overwhelmed. He can blink out to another planet entirely, if she doesn’t let him have his space he’s going to be gone in a moment.
“About what?”
“Rejoining the family, adjusting from whatever... pit you were sleeping in as a Sorcerer, to say nothing of the madness before.”
“Silkcaps are soft and smell sweet though. They’re perfect for sleeping on.” Roob’Satha replies and she refrains from blinking rapidly to try and process that. No denial of being in a pit, no trying to downplay or upplay what happened. Just a note that it was more comfortable. Not expected, but she can use that.
“I will take your word for it. I am far from familiar with fungus.”
“It’s more than fungus. It’s animals too.” Roob’Satha says as he holds up what looks like a stone at first then after a little bit of angling reveals it has glowing blue skittering legs and a pair of pincers out the front. She kneels down to get a better look. Not missing the fact that mother is carefully watching this interaction with interest.
“And what is this little fellow?”
“What I was telling mom about a bit earlier. I’m different now. Very different because I’m part of something more. And this is part of that something. Another part.”
“A less important part I hope.”
“Uh... kinda? I do more for the Forest, but we’re both doing something for it.” Roob’Satha says pulling back the crab and rising it up to look directly into it’s eyes. He then holds it up and it skitters onto his head before sitting down with one pincer holding each of his horns. “We’re both needed, and both of us alone are just... an Apuk and a crab. But together we’re more.”
“Does your friend there have a name?”
“Animals don’t usually name themselves, not unless they’re really smart. This one thinks very little, mostly about... self. And more about food. Speaking of...” Roob’Satha explains before suddenly having a small treat in his right hand, he splits off a small piece and holds it up for the crab. It takes the scrap of dried meat and begins to eat with a gusto. He then breaks the remains in half and holds up a half for her. She takes it and pops it into her mouth without complaint. It’s near tasteless compared to something she could get in moments from the kitchens, far tougher than she likes and clearly something that’s sold on the cheap to the most common of common folk. But she still smiles wide as if it was the most delicious lalgarta feast she had ever had the pleasure to experience.
“Thank you little brother, now... I was hoping to get to know this you a little better. I’ve dealt with your larger brother quite a bit and I really want to know what makes you both so different beyond size... and the bigger one being a dope.”
“Warli.” Her mother chides her gently.
“Sorry mother. But he can be a bit silly.”
“It’s endearing.”
“Still silly.” She asserts and sees Roob’Satha smile. Step one, complete.