~February 6th, 140 AH~
~Joint Base Akra, Main Headquarters~
The office of Fenix Duodecim—the General—was, in almost every way, the antithesis to that of Colonel Shiranui’s. Where the latter’s had been a near-empty shrine to industry and pragmatism, the General clearly had no qualms about turning his workplace into an exhibit of wealth and power.
The steel-based construction that predominated the whole of the JFB had been hidden away under a varnish of blue and gold, evoking something of the Old Earth palaces Asena had seen in faded picture books. The room itself filled with carefully arranged trinkets and decorative pieces that had nothing to do with work: framed paintings, a glass cabinet that displayed legacy firearms from Old Earth, and even the taxidermied head of a ‘deer’—real or synthetic, Asena had no way of telling.
The General himself imposed his presence at the centre of it all, filling nearly the entire width of an antique mahogany desk—yet another exquisite rarity—with his broad-shouldered frame. These shoulders, bulging despite the man’s otherwise relaxed posture, were wrapped within a Reiter’s grey fatigues, which cut an oddly drab contrast against the surrounding décor.
Asena, like everyone else in the Joint Forces, feared General Duodecim, though more out of conformity than any particular reason she could point to. Everyone said the General was a man to be feared as much as revered—Zelen certainly seemed to think so, judging from his memories—and so, Asena too dutifully feared him.
Her only real interactions with Fenix, however, had been in social rather than military settings. In all the visits and gatherings where the two had spoken, the Duodecim patriarch had been nothing but smiles, jokes, and compliments.
Even now, as she and her father sat across from the man, General Duodecim fixed her with a genial smile—at least genial enough to loosen the knot of anxiety that had built up during her long walk to his office. Loosened, but not fully unravelled.
Not like what she’d done to her fiancé’s memories not an hour past.
“First, I thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Corporal Shiranui,” the General now spoke, causing Asena to inadvertently start and stare. No matter how many times she’d heard him speak, she still couldn’t get used to the surprisingly delicate tenor that trilled from Fenix’s muscular frame. “I know you’re already staying well past your shift, so I’ll try to make this brief.”
Asena said nothing, despite knowing full well she was expected to offer pleasantries in return. She could feel her father’s eyes on her but remained unmoved. The simple truth of the matter was that she had neither the Somatic nor the Psychic Reserves left for performing on a stage she hadn’t chosen.
“To that end, Corporal, I’ll cut to the chase,” the General continued. If he’d found Asena’s comportment lacking at all, he didn’t show it. “I’ve already received a verbal report from Colonel Shiranui regarding your latest session with Lieutenant Zelen Athelstan. There’re a few things from that report I wished to clarify with you in person. Are you ready to begin?”
No, was what Asena wanted to say. Yes sir, was what she should’ve said. In the end, she did neither, and managed only a weak reluctant nod.
“I understand that the memory fragment you [EVOKED] today concerns a routine Anamnium retrieval mission dated April 22nd to 23rd in the year 136. Our records from four years ago, based on reports from the concerned Reiters as well as their Kuratorial handlers, indicate that all three objectives were secured and retrieved with no significant harm to personnel. In fact, this is the mission where Lieutenant Athelstan scored his first kill of a Kentavros—unidentified at the time—an achievement that was much celebrated on base upon his return. In fact, I myself remember this well. It became one of the anecdotes I referred to when I presented him with his first medal. Are we in agreement, Corporal, that the details of this record are in keeping with your experience from the session?”
She nodded again.
“It’s also my understanding that, prior to seeing the aforementioned memory, you’d first [EVOKED] a… very different version of events that took place over the same time period, the details of which I won’t rehash here, out of respect for both you and your father. Now, my first question is… how would you characterize the subject’s own perception of the two alternate memory fragments? Did he himself exhibit any knowledge of this… phenomenon?”
The last thing Asena wanted was to recall anything from her latest session. Yet even in her current state, she knew better than to openly defy the Joint Forces chief-of-staff. She frowned slightly in distracted concentration as she gave her answer.
“I wouldn’t characterize it as knowledge, but yes… there was evidence to suggest Ze—the subject had retained subconscious awareness of what had happened in the… the alternate memory fragment. In that sense, there seemed almost to be a chronology to this, like one version of events had happened before the other. The subject was able to act on information gained from the first sequence to then produce a more… successful outcome on the second, though as far as I could tell, he didn’t know where that information had come from.”
“Very good,” the General nodded and widened his smile, evidently pleased about something Asena wasn’t privy to. Then he glanced at Yuito as though sharing a private joke. “I tell you, I never cease to be amazed by what you Kurators are capable of. To relive another’s memories through their mind and body… the thought of it still makes me shudder, I hope you don’t mind me saying. And yet, you all perform your duties with nary a complaint, and thank god for that.”
“It’s the path shown to us by the Nexus,” Yuito said with a respectful bow of the head, “and it’s what Akropolis requires of us. We’re only too pleased to serve her.”
There had been a time when Asena would’ve felt pride at the General’s compliments and been impressed by her father’s political acumen—his ability to know just the right things to say in the right moments. Right now, however, she felt only dull distaste for Yuito’s sycophancy—for that was all this was—and she also couldn’t be more disgusted with herself, for the brand of Kuration she’d just performed on Zelen.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“What is your understanding of what had happened with Lieutenant Athelstan?”
It took a second for Asena to realize the General had turned his attention back onto her. “Sir?”
“I’d like to hear if you have any theories… that might explain the seemingly incontrovertible fact that Zelen Athelstan had experienced two versions of the same event, and had somehow retained—or repressed, in this case—memories of both.”
Asena’s frown deepened. Was this really what this meeting was about? For the chief-of-staff and the commander of the Kurator Corps to hear a lowly corporal’s explanation of Zelen’s… strange power? Did they really expect her to believe that they hadn’t long formulated answers of their own?
Regardless, the General had asked, so she could only answer to the best of her ability. Which meant she wasn’t about to pull any punches—not anymore. Which meant she was about to get at the truth of the matter…
“I believe Zelen Athelstan possesses an Einkunst. And everything we’ve discussed is a result of his having activated—perhaps unknowingly—said power.”
Nary a muscle upon Fenix’s smile shifted as he ordered, “Elaborate.”
Asena drew in a steadying breath, forcing herself to reorganize her jumbled thoughts. No small feat, considering most of these thoughts had only popped up in the last hour or so, and had been pulled from remarkably eclectic sources at that.
“Certain segments of Old Earth literature,” she began, “both scientific and speculative, speak of the concept of parallel universes. It’s something that’s never been empirically proven, and there are different definitions and parameters of the idea depending on whom you ask. Some say the universes are fixed to their own dimensions and timelines, never to intersect nor interact with one another. Others say that every instance where a choice is made, one way or another, creates an entirely new universe, thus allowing for an infinite multitude of universes to be shaped by the consequences of upstream individual choices.
“I believe Lieutenant Athelstan’s Einkunst fits within the latter framework. It’s impossible for me to say whether the Einkunst allows him to create these parallel universes or merely… travel between them. In any case, there are decision points within his life that break off into alternate realities, to which he’s able to return then manifest the consequences of different choices.
“If there’s any merit to my theory, however, this only brings more questions. How does he retain information—subconscious or otherwise—between these realities? And what of the world around him? Of us? Are we the result of the alternate versions of Zelen’s life having merged back to one reality, or are we simply one version of us that had split off—unbeknownst to ourselves—from a multitude of others? And does that mean there’s a version of reality where—”
The General suddenly burst into laughter: an alarming sound, for both its volume and harsh musicality. It made Asena halt in her tracks, which was just as well, because she’d been tumbling down a dark path she herself wished dearly to avoid.
“Yuito, my man, you must tell me your secrets,” Fenix boomed, still shaking from laughter. “How do so many of your children manage to be so delightful?”
“If Corporal Shiranui has caused any offence, sir, I apologize on her behalf,” Yuito said with another bow. Asena threw her father a sidelong glance, noting he didn’t look all that apologetic.
“No, are you kidding? This is the most interesting conversation I’ve had in months. Certainly beats arguing back and forth with the blockheads over at the Council. Corporal, you will of course refrain from mentioning that to the subject.”
Asena nodded slowly, as her frown turned from one of guarded concern to that of bemusement. She understood the General’s quip, of course, what with Gerech Athelstan—Zelen’s father—being the incumbent Chancellor in charge of the Council. What she didn’t understand was how any part of this conversation could’ve put the General in such a jovial mood.
“No, I’m the one that should apologize,” Fenix said with one last guffaw, then cleared his throat. The change in demeanour was instantaneous. He still wore his genial smile, but the laughter was gone entirely, from both eyes and voice. “It’s just, I rarely hear my servicemen speak so eloquently on Old Earth miscellany. You really are well-read, Corporal, I’ll give you that. Reminds me somewhat of another Shiranui sibling, but that’s neither here nor there. And you’ve certainly shown me—and your father, I hope—that you’re not one to be trifled with. That you deserve our respect… and our collaboration.”
The General stood up then. He wasn’t a towering figure by any stretch of the imagination—not like Yuito or Makiri—and yet, his presence seemed to fill the entire room. Fenix Duodecim had that effect on every room he occupied.
He walked over to the taxidermied deer that was mounted on the back wall, reached up, then patted the back of the head, around the base of the antlers. There was a fondness to this gesture, yet Asena also sensed an unmistakable menace.
Her Old Earth readings had also taught her the historical significance of this deer head. Once upon a time, it’d been a trophy of sorts, the proud memento of a hunter’s tussle with his quarry. As Asena watched the General, she was overcome by the absurd notion that he himself had hunted and killed this deer. Yet there was a remoteness to his look that suggested he had a much different quarry on his mind.
“Your theory is certainly an entertaining one, Corporal,” he said, taking on a softer—almost wistful—tone, “but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. We don’t need to know the true nature of Lieutenant Athelstan’s Einkunst. All that matters is we control it. And to do that, first we must get it back. Now, this setback with the extraneous memory”—he glanced at Yuito as he said this, ever so briefly—“was unexpected, but not one we can’t easily correct, as you yourself have demonstrated today.
“I’ve decided I’m glad this happened, that we can finally bring you into the fold. I believe this may well have been the breakthrough we needed. You’re clearly a talented Kurator, and one who cares deeply about your subject, as well you should, given your circumstances. Help us help him, Corporal. Help us make him whole. We must not let his Einkunst go to waste…”
Asena was both surprised and disturbed by the turn of events. She hadn’t expected the General to be so forthright, and yet, he was also asking her to continue with something she very much despised. To join the cabal of liars that had kept her fiancé in the dark, about his own Einkunst, no less!
How many threads of death and failure had Yuito Shiranui [UNRAVELLED] to keep Zelen meek and pliant? To how many still hidden threads must Asena Shiranui now do the same, to save her fiancé from his own pain?
Then her words rang across the room, before her mind had a chance to filter them,
“What is it?”
The General turned slowly to face her, his hand still resting upon the deer head. Her father too gave her a look of alarm, no doubt reacting to her having dropped the sir.
“What is the name of Zelen’s Einkunst, the one you deem so precious to the war?”
Only once during an Einkunster’s lifetime did the name of their unique power reveal itself. Only once—during the Ascension Standard—echoed and whispered from the Nexus. Zelen must’ve heard it too, then had that memory [UNRAVELLED] by the adults that took control of his life.
“The moment we learned of it,” the General spoke softer still, voice now tinged with unmistakable awe and reverence, “we knew it was the answer to mankind’s prayers, our just rewards for fourteen decades of struggle and sacrifice. For the Syntropy is our enemy, and the Nexus has shown us the path to their defeat. The Nexus has delivered into our hands…”
Fenix Duodecim suddenly gripped the base of an antler, so tightly that the entire deer head as well as his own arm trembled with the effort. Then he declared,
“[ENTROPY].”