Two red eyes hung over me the seventh time I awoke. They were not Bliss’s and reinforcing that point was the fact that blond hair drooped around the edges of my view, where Bliss’s was black. “Callant? Are you with me?” Castecael asked, shining a light in my view.
“I am,” I managed to squeeze out, then broke into another cough. Castecael pulled her face away from mine as I gagged and wheezed on dry air. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries, it’s to be expected from someone with a sternum half-collapsed,” she answered. “You may not be able to see us all, but we are all here. Everyone, keep your distance, please,” Castecael insisted of the group of my fellows that surrounded me. I could, in fact, see most of them, at least in part, even though I did not have much head movement. Most of my crew was wounded, at least among the ground operatives. Zha and Castecael appeared to be unharmed. Lucene appeared to be the most harmed, covered in bloodied bandages—a sight I had not seen of her since our battles on Hestia Majoris. There was, however, one of my retinue missing.
“Luther?” I asked, fearing the worst. And indeed, many heads—including Silas’s—fell toward the ground.
“He didn’t make it, Cal,” Mirena replied. “He took his Strike teams and the Harakoni on a mission to take out that giant, awful cannon thing. It was heavily guarded, but they took it and held it.”
“They served with honor and died in glory,” Galen confirmed. “I arrived to it too late—these Iron bastards had a pair of corrupted Knights of their own that slowed me down. I found few survivors among the Harakoni. Luther, I believe, died in the defense of their position.”
I was seething, and I was in no state of being to do so. It hurt to be as angry as I was, then. I did my best to focus on the silver lining, that Luther Vaigg found a most glorious, worthy, and deserving end, and that he, unlike what would come of us in time, was undoubtedly sitting at the Emperor’s table in the afterlife. Surely one such as he would be of tremendous value to the Emperor in the End Times. That, then, was a blessing, but it did little to quell the rage of his loss in the here and now.
“Silas,” I muttered then, recognizing that my Scion undoubtedly felt the same pain I was feeling, even if without the broken chest. Silas lifted his head up, revealing two streaks of tears to me. I gestured for him to approach me, and when he did so, I raised my biological hand to him. He took it, holding me by my arm, and I held him likewise. “I’m so sorry, Silas.”
“So am I, Cal, so am I,” he whimpered. “You’re like a brother to me, and I think you think the same of me. So you know, then, that they were as unto my children, of a kind. And I’ve lost all three of them, now,” he sobbed, pressing his head into the side of my pillow atop my medicae unit. Czevia Gao. Xavier Gradshi. Luther Vaigg. Silas’s three expert operatives, hand-picked by the two of us, managed and trained solely by him. All dead. Had we failed them? Or had we succeeded in making them soldiers competent enough to know what to die for? Or both?
“Too many you and I have lost, my brother,” I agreed, also crying. For many in the room, it was the first time they had seen a tear shed from me. “Far, far too many. I’m so sorry,” I repeated. I then address the room while continuing to hold on to Silas. “I sense we’re still on Jaegetri’s surface.”
“Yes,” Zha confirmed. “We, uh, we don’t know what happened with you. We don’t know if Mortoc’s still alive, if the mission is complete, or what. She hasn’t revealed anything, and has refused to speak,” Zha explained, tapping her head forward. I realized then that indeed, my twice-savior was not within view. From Zha’s head-tap, I knew that Bliss was situated somewhere behind me.
“She has also refused medicae aid, despite clearly needing it,” Castecael muttered.
“And to leave your side,” Mirena added, looking past me and likely into Bliss’s eyes. “But, well, at least she hasn’t stabbed anyone with those daggers. That I know of.”
“I see. Mortoc is dead. Bliss killed him in front of me and then extracted me from captivity. We should exfiltrate from this world as soon as possible, then engage the Exterminatus. Until then, Lucene, how are you holding up?” I asked my wife.
Lucene grinned, a pained gesture for her, but shrugged. The shrug also appeared to be pained. “I am fine, Cal, thank you for asking.”
“Lucene is not fine and has suffered severe damage to her cybernetic ports,” Castecael corrected. “As have most of her Sisters.”
“I am fine enough to stand, and therefore fine enough to serve,” Lucene retorted.
“Yes, I’ve heard this one before from you and your husband,” Castecael grumbled. “Obstinate sods, both of you. Speaking of which, Callant, you have—again—suffered grievous trauma. You should not move much for two weeks while the augmetic reinforcing plate I’ve installed in your chest settles in. And I mean it. Please do not move within two weeks. If that plating slips, it could very well stab into your heart and kill you in an instant.”
“For once, Castecael, I’m not much inclined to go anywhere,” I admitted. “You have my word. I’m happy to take a two-week nap.”
“Cal, I am far more thrilled than I look to be hearing that at last,” Castecael replied, heaving out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Everyone else, we should give him some space to recover. And I mean everyone,” Castecael insisted, turning to Bliss’s as yet-unseen position behind me.
“Glad to have you back, Cal,” Silas muttered, squeezed my arm more tightly a moment, and then took his leave alongside Zha and Galen.
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“Lucene, stay a moment,” I called as Mirena left by Castecael’s side, albeit not before blowing me a kiss herself.
“You and I, my dear, have much to discuss. And when your chest can take it, much love to make to overrule the trauma of this whole damnable ordeal,” Lucene explained with a wink. “But, for now, I think you owe your savior a word or two first. I think she’s earned that much. She’s my savior, too, this time around. Be well, my love,” Lucene wished for me, and then left me on my own with the Callidus Assassin behind me.
“Bliss,” I muttered, and had intended to thank her, but did not get the chance before she moved over my head from my rear and flattened my lips under hers. Given our positioning, I found myself with a front-row view of her chest, which I think was probably her intent; she ever knew how to wield herself to toy with the feelings of the men and women around her. I will admit, I had no idea how long she kissed me for. It could have been a minute or two, or an hour or two. I only know that when our lips did part, I was out of breath. “Thank…you,” I muttered, thanking her for saving me, not for the kiss. She, however, giggled, recognizing that out of context, I may have been thanking her for the kiss.
“Anytime, Callant. Both saving you and kissing you, I’m down for either one at any time,” she said, giggling to herself before taking a seat on my medicae unit where Silas’s head had been to my side. “I’m very sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed, and her eyes widened as her face flushed. I think she expected some of my usual compassion and not so much of my candor. But I had a bone to pick with her, my savior or not. “What are you to me, Bliss?”
“I…I don’t understand the question, Callant,” she admitted, flustered.
“What are you to me? Because you’re not loyal. But you’re also not my enemy. In one moment you’re betraying me and getting me ruined and seeing my Agents killed, but in the next you’re saving my life,” I explained, and Bliss got off my medicae unit, embarrassed and hurt. “I don’t blame you for all of this. Mortoc is mostly to blame and I thank you for giving him what he deserved. But do I hold you partly responsible for my wounds? Yes. Do I hold you partly responsible for Luther’s death? Yes. I could have wielded you and avoided all this mess. Bliss, I cannot have an Agent that is unwilling to listen to my orders. And you don’t have to be my Agent; you’re an Inquisitor too, you can go and do as you please. But I need to know what you want to be, now, and forever after. I thought you wanted this, once. I’m not so sure anymore.”
Bliss looked on at me, sorrowful and as deeply wounded as I felt. She was still covered in physical wounds, too, some of which—albeit not many—were still open and bleeding slightly. But the wounds I inflicted upon her, then, were far from physical, but nevertheless painful. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly for a few moments, and when she opened them again she took my hand up in hers and knelt down to my side. She then kissed my open palm before saying, “Callant Blackgar, I hereby swear myself to you. If you wish to kill me, I will let you. If you mean me harm, I shall suffer it, as I will bear any burden that may otherwise weigh upon you. I will die for you, and I will live for you. Under penalty of torment and death, I am yours, howsoever you will have me.”
“Coming from you, that last bit almost seems to bear a sexual connotation,” I muttered.
She giggled, rose to her feet again, and relinquished my hand from her grasp, then leaned down to my right ear. “Almost? Seems to?” she whispered, giggling to herself again. Then she righted herself once more. “Anything you want of me, Callant, I will deliver henceforth. Even as may concern the bodily vices. I pledge myself to you as I have the Throne; my body is forfeit and meaningless in your vicinity, as in His. I am so sorry, Callant Blackgar, for all this shit I have brought upon you. I will live the rest of my days doing anything and everything I can to help you, howsoever you need.”
“Well that’s all a bit dramatic,” I grunted, earning a wider smile from her. “But…it’s good that you’ve pledged yourself so, as I have a favor to ask of you that I can ask of no other,” I began.
“Anything you need, Callant,” she nodded.
“Curb your enthusiasm,” I warned her. “You say anything that I need, that you’ve pledged your life to me. Well, if I needed you to end my life, would you?”
“Please, Callant, what nonsense is this?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“I had much the same reaction when I heard the news,” I acknowledged, managing a grin. “Open your mind to me, and give me an arm with which to tether to you, and I shall show you,” I explained, raising my arm up again. She took it at once, and with equal haste, I showed her everything. My meeting with Lords Caliman and van der Skar, from which I learned of Cronos for the first time. My dreams of Ouranos and the conversation I shared with him and Mortoc. My encounter with Cronos in the streets of Jaegetri. I revealed every last secret I had about the broader situation to her, and when I had finally finished, she backed away from me, bewildered and horrified. Each of our arms were steaming, sizzling in the heat of my psykana, while she paced about the room, around me.
“No, I…I can’t…I won’t…why?” she asked at last, clenching her fists in front of her face like a boxer would shield themselves. “Why the frig is it us? I love you! Why does it have to be us? Why can’t there be one nice damned thing in the whole frigging galaxy? It’s not fair!”
“No, Bliss, it isn’t,” I agreed. “You and I both drew short ends of the stick. But we should have known that when we agreed to become Inquisitors. Answer my question. Will you kill me when I need you to?”
“No, I…I…I…,” she stammered, trying to make sense of it all. She then threw herself across the room to me, where she planted her fists on either side of my head and loomed herself over me. Her face contorted in equal parts fury, sorrow, love, and pain, her expressions never quite settling on anything for long. “But I love you,” she protested in a whisper.
“I know.”
She closed her eyes over me for a while then, but did not remove her fists from either side of my head. When next her eyes opened, tears were welling up in them. “I will do anything you need of me, Callant Blackgar. Even if you need me to kill you. But before I do, I will do everything in my power to save you. Only when there’s no alternative will I…will I…”
“Thank you, Bliss,” I agreed. “That will do.”
“Damn Cronos,” she hissed. “Damn Ouranos, damn every last frigging one of them. I will rip them all to shreds to save us, to give us a chance to be together,” she offered, then laughed. “That’s the grand plan for me, right? Live long enough for the line to move from Lucene, to Mirena, to me, and to keep you alive all the while. And Throne, when it gets to me, I’m never letting go of you,” she admitted, laughing again. Her laughter, like every other facet of her, was beautiful, so perfectly lovely to hear. Even in this dark and terrible conversation, despite the doom and gloom, her laughter brought a grin to my face, and, eventually, a laugh of my own.
Together, with her, perhaps there was room for some bliss in this damned galaxy after all.