~February 25th, 140 AH~
~Sector Capricorn, ???~
The entrance to ‘not Old Earth’ was a barren swath of ash and rock, indistinct from the surrounding land that stretched in all directions. But as the convoy waited in an orderly line, one swath of the barren earth dissolved. Ash and rock morphed into a flat layer of pale blue shield before that too powered down, revealing an enormous tunnel that led underground at a steep angle.
Zelen watched the impossible unfold before him… and felt nothing. He felt nothing as he followed the others onto a vast square platform that then whirred to life with loud mechanical churning and began its ponderous descent along guide rails built into the walls. He also felt nothing as he took in the sight of the enormous passage with its innards of enmeshed cables and molded metal—and saw instead the darkened corridors of someone else’s sinking ship.
All along the trip, there’d been constant chatter on the radio. A man who called himself Akash Varana—a name that sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough to arouse any real curiosity—gave out frequent instructions to his team. This team included Asena, and the only times Zelen felt a modicum of not-nothing were when her voice occasionally filtered onto the channel: earnest, reassuring, nostalgic.
Nostalgic? That didn’t seem quite the right word to describe a fiancée to whom he’d given entirely too little of himself over the twelve years he’d known her. This contradiction was curious enough to vex Zelen for a short while. But only for a short while, before he turned his attention to other matters that aroused nothing in his mind.
He paid attention to Asena now as she in turn paid attention to the man called Akash Varana. The latter seemed to be explaining the provenance of this enormous escalator and the civilization that had built it. Or maybe just his theories about them? Zelen couldn’t be too sure. While the man’s mild-mannered if slightly smug speech was pleasant enough to listen to, the information contained therein aroused nothing in Zelen’s mind.
The convoy eventually stepped off at the bottom of the escalator, where more impossibilities awaited. A colossal entryway, large enough to comfortably fit the frames of twenty model ES-Vs, led into an even larger space.
A city, ceilinged in its entirety by a thick layer of barren earth. The city was dark, presently lit only by the portable Nexa-Lamps in the hands of a small welcoming party that had awaited the convoy’s arrival. But even in the darkness, Zelen could feel rather than see the expanse of this underground civilization: at least as large as Akropolis, if not more so.
And yet, beyond that, Zelen felt nothing.
He followed obediently as the welcoming party waved their lamps to guide him, this time onto a field of metallic structures—some in more disrepair than others—which rose from the ground at roughly regular intervals. Docking bays. An open air hangar. He didn’t stop to wonder at its implications as he parked his Eidolon and disembarked as instructed.
On foot, he was finally reunited with Asena, in the flesh. Yet, as he gazed upon her weak smile and tall thin frame, what he saw instead was her brother. A giant wraith of a man. A crimson centipede that had flown into battle at his side—that had died at his side in someone else’s battle. This non-memory did stir up more not-nothings, but not the kind that Zelen liked to dwell on. So, he forced himself to focus on the sister.
He’d thought—perhaps hoped—that the sight of Asena would bring with it a measure of comfort. Warmth for him to cling to. It was strange then… that the sight of her only brought more nothings. Instead, what he needed—what he wanted to cling to—was her voice.
“How did you even find this place?” That voice asked now, as the convoy that had become a congregation on foot made their way deeper into the darkened city.
“Would you believe me if I said it came to me in a vision?” Akash replied, mild-mannered if slightly smug. “I’m being facetious, but it’s honestly not far off. As you know, my Einkunst [ALLIANCE]’s primary function is to connect with other Sehers, especially when those Sehers are, consciously or otherwise, crying out for help. About twelve years ago, shortly before I faked my own disappearance, I detected one such signal, originating from this exact location.”
“… Who was this Seher that was crying out for help? From the ruins of Old—of whatever this place used to be?”
“I don’t know. We never found them. Maybe it’s someone that wandered in here before we did. But my personal theory—one admittedly not shared by every one of my [ALLIES]—is this Seher, whoever they are or were, was the one that manifested these ruins into reality.”
Even in the hazy depths of nothing, Akash’s latest words did raise a prick of… curiosity? Recognition? Zelen felt, not with any amount of conviction, as though he’d heard this tale or something like it before.
But did he hear it? Or had he been the one to tell it?
“Yes, you did allude to that earlier,” Asena pressed the older man, hiding none of her breathless wonder, “but I’m still not sure I quite understand it.”
“I’d be lying if I said I did,” Akash returned with a smile and a brief glance in Zelen’s direction. “The fact of the matter is, the Joint Forces and the Syntropy both have had at least 140 recorded years to scour the planet for resources, in between all the fighting. If a place of this magnitude and density had existed for all that time, it would’ve either become Akropolitan property or fallen into enemy hands. That’s why I believe… it only manifested twelve years ago, at the same time as when I felt the presence of that unknown Seher.”
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Twelve years ago. This notion too tugged at the unseen edges of Zelen’s non-memories. What had happened twelve years ago? He’d been ten then. The age when all Akropolitan children had their Ascension Standard…
“Another Einkunst then?” Asena wondered aloud. “But to create something of this scale… How could one human have been responsible for this?”
“To create? It likely would’ve been impossible for any one human, Einkunster or no. But if it’d already been fully formed… and this Seher simply recalled it into existence? The First Fundamental Tenet of Seherschaft: a Seher sees into the Nexus and calls forth the memories contained therein. I believe that, even as we speak, we tread upon the halls of someone’s memories. Someone with an entirely different recollection than ours of the planet and the wars it hosted.”
“What say we continue this debate over dinner, boss?” a second woman exclaimed then, one much stockier than Asena and also far cheerier in demeanour. Feray Geyik, the woman and Jaeger that could pilot an Eidolon—and had her own kill count. Yet another impossibility that had phased through Zelen like air. The woman continued, “I’m sure we all have a tram-load of questions for each other, but I think we ought to get our guests settled in first.”
“Yes, you’re right, Feray,” Akash remarked with an amiable nod, then gestured toward a complex of buildings ahead. These, while still mostly dark, were partially lit by fixtures that dotted crumbling walls. “Speaking of, here we are. We already have quarters prepared for you two.” Then a funny look came over the older man as he glanced between his two young guests. “For what it’s worth, we’ve prepared two separate rooms… owing to the fact we hadn’t really discussed—”
“That’s fine!” Asena cut in hastily, her reddening face apparent even in the dark. “And thank you. We could certainly use the space to catch our breath.”
“And I suggest you make full use of it,” Akash said as a smile returned to his features. “Rest. Sleep, if you have to. Take all the time you need. Whenever you’re ready, join us in the concourse over there, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Alliance… and discuss further plans.”
Zelen went through the motions of obedience, this time following Asena into the building that was to be his new home. It was a rather dour-looking thing, with dilapidated walls and exposed framework, and he suspected that the darkness only helped to mask more of its imperfections.
Yet, despite this being the dourest accommodation he’d ever been assigned, the sight of it too tugged at the unseen edges of his non-memories. It was a gentle tug, one offered by an old friend who wanted to let him in on an inside joke. It was the kind of not-nothing that made him want to linger and bask in its warmth.
Perhaps he’d stood motionless for too long. The next thing he knew, Asena too had stopped next to a cracked doorframe and now looked to him with an inscrutable half-smile half-frown.
“Zelen,” she spoke softly—hesitantly, as if afraid of the thoughts her own words could breathe life into, “could we talk for a second? Just the two of us?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s”—she looked around the building; there, at the base of a staircase, was a teetering table and a pair of stools—“have a seat and just chat.”
Asena took the lead, and Zelen followed obediently. But even after the two of them had sat down, it took the former some time before she found her next words.
“I just wanted to see how you’re taking all this,” she spoke slowly, carefully. “My ambushing you during your Tethering. The decision to desert… and join a bona fide coup. And… and what you did… with the General.”
Zelen, in his earnest effort to please Asena, to adhere to the voice that so soothed him, went over each item in his head. And try as he might, he only managed to come up empty.
“I’m fine,” he reported. Succinct—but also just the full extent of it.
“Are you really?” Asena’s expression contorted more clearly toward a frown. “So much has happened. So much has changed in the last few hours. Do you really… have nothing to feel about it?”
“No,” he asserted, and curled his lips into what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. That I do right by you.”
“… Doing right by me doesn’t involve killing other Akropolitans, Zelen. At least… I don’t wish it to.”
“Have I upset you?”
“… I don’t know. I don’t know what to think, and maybe I was hoping you could help me decide.”
Zelen recalled the finisher. Its speed. Its efficiency. The softness of a model ES-F’s central chassis, once its armour had been depleted. He recalled everything, and still felt nothing.
He also remembered something else. As a proto-Reiter, he’d always been a rather indifferent student, one that often found himself in his Instructors’ crosshairs. But one thing he’d always excelled at—a cut above everyone else—was single combat. And that expertise had only grown and enhanced over four years (had it really only been four years?) of war.
“Fenix Duodecim was a threat. I eliminated him. Did what I had to, for us to move forward.”
Asena’s face fell, and to Zelen’s mild confoundment and numb horror, fresh tears streaked her now crestfallen face.
“I understand that, Zelen,” she said with a trembling voice. The tremor in her voice somehow felt wrong, dissonant. In his non-memories, her voice wasn’t supposed to falter, wasn’t supposed to fail. “I understand also that if anyone in Akropolis deserved his fate, it was the General. But still… still, I don’t want you to be a killer.”
Zelen did frown then. Now more confused than horrified. His words, unlike his counterpart’s, remained steady in their earnestness.
“But Asena,” he said, “I’ve always been a killer.”
Asena was silent for a long time. Long enough for the tears to dry. Long enough for Zelen to hope that she’d come around. That they could agree on what it meant for Zelen to do right by her. And after a long time, she turned to him with a smile, one that betrayed the chasm she held within her chest.
“Let’s get some rest, Zelen. We’ve both had a long day. And there’ll be many more long days ahead. We need all the time and space we can have to ourselves.”
She stood without waiting for a response, and made her way up the crumbling steps of their new home.
Zelen sat for a while by himself, even after Asena had left him with his latest instructions. Her voice rang in his heart still, tugging at the unseen edges of someone else’s memories.
~~~
~???~
~Sector Leo, somewhere along the coasts of Terra Nebulo~
A hairless ageless creature bends toward its core to hug itself. A lurid red stain spreads upon a grey barren field.
A lone flower blooms, shivering amidst the planet’s haze.