Ravana's Shadow (3) (Patreon)

The transport sealed behind Kit, bright lights illuminating the space in gentle white. The drone did not follow her inside, instead heaving the door closed from the other end.

The car wasn’t empty, though. A single passenger sat in one of the open seats, fully enclosed in their own suit. Somehow, they’d polarized the helmet even without light, their face no more than a shadowy reflection within.

Air hissed as the transport repressurized. Kit rested her back against the wall, pulling her tail into her lap as best she could. The rugged sleeve around it kept the limb stiff, barely responding to her motions. Kit tried anyway, squeezing as tight as she could.

Her head ached as though it might come loose from her body. Maybe she could drift away, where the pain and shock would fade. Either that, or someone would come along and carry her in their arms down to Remedial.

With her eyes closed, she could almost see her body like a starship—disconnected, just as those consoles had been around the Acheron’s bridge. “Kit, listen to me. You’re showing frightening signs of decoherence.” Forerunner spoke from her helmet radio, far gentler than Acheron ever had. “Mara needs you. If you slip into Remedial now, many more will follow. We can’t save the colony with toddlers.”

We. Small or not, Forerunner wasn’t talking to her like a child. They were together, allies on the same mission. But unlike Acheron, he wasn’t forcing it. 

“You knew what was in there?” Kit whispered. “You could’ve told me.”

“I… could have,” came the reply. “But if I did, you would’ve been even more insistent to speak with him. I had no power to stop you. As he says, he is a warship. I am not. Our powers are… different. He was born in an ancient forge, and I—one of numberless seeds thrown into the wind. I could not protect you.”

“But you did,” she whimpered, holding her knees up to her chest. “You cut him out. Otherwise—he would’ve…”

Hammered her, like metal in a forge. With a direct interface to her mind, Acheron could shatter it again and again and again, until something new was born. Not Kit anymore, or even Katlin Rowe. A captain from an earlier age, to take command of a warship.

“I cannot manipulate implants that interface with a colonist’s mind. I may, however, make polite requests of those who can.”

The stranger turned towards her, then spoke. Her voice was higher than Kit remembered, a little weaker and younger. Still somehow identifiable, if only from the tone. “Hello Kit. You don’t have to sit on the floor.”

The helmet turned clear. A stranger looked back at her, or at first it seemed like one. A girl with brown hair, black highlights, and glasses. Another 80%, not one of the ‘full’ templates left over from earlier promotions. That also meant a helmet large enough for her ears, faintly pointed like a predator.

“Wren?” The colony’s director had changed in many significant ways. But enough of her face was still familiar, especially those eyes. Even at Kit’s height, she radiated the same protective confidence of the Director she remembered.

With the final hiss of air, Kit’s helmet clicked, unlocking. But Wren had her own off first, settling it down onto the empty seat beside her. “My name is Morgan. Wren needed time to recover her sanity in Remedial, remember? She couldn’t come upstairs without suffering Decoherence.” Those little brown ears tilted forward, facing Kit. “If you’re gonna sit on the floor, at least sit here. You don’t have to be alone.”

She didn’t have to listen anymore—Wren wasn’t the Director. But official or not, office or not, she still sounded like someone who expected to be obeyed. Kit shuffled over, standing just in front of her. That extra height made her taller, even if similar templates would’ve kept them equal otherwise.

“Does anyone else know you’re up here?”

Morgan shrugged, shoulder twitching to one side, then the other. “Depends. A few kids know there’s an old colonist back on the surface. They think I’m first generation—in a way I guess that’s true.” She reached out, resting her hand on Kit’s helmet. Somehow, she twisted with one hand, sliding it until it went loose. “Maddie knows, I’m pretty sure. When she saw what was inside that section, she tried to call down to me for help. Forerunner would’ve told her I wasn’t there. Even if she can’t see the personnel records, she’ll know something’s happening.”

Wren couldn’t get the helmet off with just one hand. Kit helped, lifting it off and setting it on the floor.

Wren should’ve been obvious to anyone who saw her, even if her ribbon was yellow now instead of white. There had only ever been three colonists with the interface implant. But how many kids even knew what the ribbon was?

“Do you hate me?” Kit whispered. She was already shaky from what Acheron had done to her. With Wren here, she started crying. “You’re here to tell me you were right? The Institute wasn’t ready to know the truth. I’m losing colonists to Remedial every few days. Soon I won’t have enough of them left to keep the lights on. I failed.”

Morgan’s face remained unreadable. She stood from her seat, so their eyes met. Kit braced for whatever impact was coming. Whatever the old Director decided, she deserved it and more. She’d sacrificed their future on the altar of “truth.”

What she felt were a pair of arms wrapping around her. Her suit did less to dull the hug than she might expect, thanks to the interface with her nervous system. Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight. “Forerunner told me you found the Acheron. We were both worried about you. It’s okay, you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you outside the bridge.”

Kit sniffed, then melted. She sobbed into Morgan’s shoulder, clinging to her like the last frail rope hanging down into a lightless cavern. If she let go, she might fall forever.

“Don’t think so little of yourself, squirrel. The last colonists I took in there are still in Remedial. You went in alone and walked out. That was very brave.”

Kit sniffed, fighting her shaking voice. The old director didn’t seem to care, either about that or the slime dripping down her face. “You should hate me! Tell me I’m awful or hit me or something. Don’t just…”

Wren ignored her protest. “Turn around. Let’s get you out of that suit.”

Maybe it was old instincts—or maybe pain she’d suffered under the Persona’s mental conditioning was too strong. The next thing she knew, she was out of her armor, legs folded under her and resting against Morgan’s chest. 

“The universe is a scary place, Kit. Humanity was so young when you left our home the first time. I don’t think you’re ready for everything we found.”

With Morgan’s arms draped protectively around her, she was already feeling better. Even at the same size, the weasel still felt like a stone giant there to protect her from the universe. The transport still hadn’t moved, its wheels firmly planted in gravel.

“We’re dying, Wren. The colony can’t keep pretending things are happy and safe forever. We must find a way out. Even if that means searching places that were too scary to check before.”

“Morgan,” she corrected, somehow sounding sharper than when Kit had whispered of the guilt of replacing her. “For both our sakes, I am someone else. Morgan.”

“Morgan,” Kit repeated, twisting around to meet her eyes. “That’s what the Acheron called you. That was your real name, wasn’t it? Before you became a part of the Institute. Why did you leave Acheron in there? If he’s so dangerous…”

The weasel’s hand slackened on her shoulder. “Because he’s my friend. We fought through hell together. All the other ships burned, all their crews and mine. It was just us against the universe. He agreed to… to let me come here and build Mara. It was supposed to be the seed of a new empire. Humanity’s grand rebirth, where we could grow strong until we were ready to fly back and retake what the Red Tide stole from us.”

She lowered her voice, whispering to herself more than speaking to Kit. “But we failed. Repeatedly.”

Both arms wrapped around Kit again, pulling her close. Morgan’s voice faltered, though her arms were strong. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. He hates how different you are from the way humans used to be, but he’s wrong. You’re proof we can be something different, something… better.”

Kit nodded. Forerunner’s metal arms could offer little comfort compared to another’s touch. “Forerunner is our father,” she said. “Are you our mom?”

Morgan nodded tearfully. It took her a few more seconds to let go. “There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. One day, all the smart kids in this Institute will find the way to turn nitrogen ice into a civilization. Mara will be just as beautiful as I always said it was. We can make the stories real.”

The transport jostled suddenly, its heavy wheels turning. As it did, the lights dimmed overhead, and the steady hum of life support faded into the soothing rumble.

Forerunner spoke again. “The previous Director and I retain our disagreements over the future of Mara. Her faith in a miraculous breakthrough was not irrational when we began. But as the centuries pass, our risk aversion has led us to an increasingly dangerous position. With every fabrication we lose some fraction of the material we brought. Every day our horizon of future action contracts. This colony requires dramatic intervention.”

The weasel stiffened under Kit. Her hand lifted from her shoulder and fell flat onto the floor. “I suppose you could say this only further completes the comparison. We have our disagreements about how to raise you. But we want the same things, even if we fight for them a little differently. Sometimes that means he gets his way, and I’m replaced.” 

Like I had nothing to do with it, and Forerunner just decided. Kit finally sat up. She squirmed away, resting her back against the seats on the opposite side. Maybe the bumping and rocking of the transport would’ve been uncomfortable if she was bigger. But at 80%, she barely felt the discomfort. She could probably curl up and sleep on cement if she got tired enough. 

“Thank you for helping me,” Kit said. “Both of you. It means a lot that you would come for me, even after I…” She trailed off, looking away. “Messed up so much.” 

She looked down, to where the plastic fox lay on the transport floor. Kit hadn’t been watching very closely during her breakdown. But as she recovered, she saw what should’ve been obvious: the fox had moved. Maddie’s drone now lay in a natural curled position, with her head resting on her paws and eyes watching Kit. The reason was obvious: Acheron’s disruption signal wasn’t blocking her anymore.

“It is wrong to second-guess the successes you have had,” Forerunner said, before Morgan could open her mouth. “There were setbacks, it’s true. But overall, the outcome of this change is not yet known. It is not surprising that some individuals would not do well under the pressure of knowledge. Perhaps others will rise to fill their places. We cannot predict the future.”

Morgan stood up. She lifted her helmet off the seat, resting it under one arm. “Be more careful next time, Kit. The Institute makes it easy to forget how small you are. The universe never forgot, though. It will grind us to dust if it can.”

The transport stopped, and the rear door opened. No air rushed past them, suffocating Kit. Because, of course, the truck had parked in a safe section of the Ring.

Morgan hopped down out the back and slipped away into the dark.

Kit remained on the floor for a few seconds more, watching the fox. Was the little drone in sleep mode, or—

No. Maddie moved, arching her back and shaking out stiff limbs. At least the gesture looked like she was. The drone didn’t have any true biology, so the behavior was probably just for show. “Guess we found where the Acheron’s been hiding,” she said, pawing her way over. “Did it tell you anything we can use?”

“No.” She sighed, resting one hand on the fox’s back. “I think it mostly wanted to do some things to me. Hurt me.”

“Make you grow up,” Maddie said, voice flat. “Acheron hates the Institute. Even if I didn’t know where it was, I remember that. When I was the only one, he thought I was cute. But now that it’s everyone, he probably wishes I died.”

Kit lifted the mechanical fox into her lap, a little like Wren had done to her. “I dunno. Can’t tell if he was that bad. He wanted to hurt me, but…” But if I survived, I would’ve been as strong as Wren.

“We can find another way,” the fox said. “It’s scary knowing how little we have left. But we’re doing a lot to conserve! With all that extra time, we’ll figure something out. We’re not dead yet.”

Shoes crunched on composite outside, a single figure hurrying in their direction. Kit sat up straighter, relaxing her tail around herself. No matter how bad things got, she couldn’t let anyone see the Director of the Institute looking like this.

Then a mouse appeared in the open doorway, panting and wide-eyed.

“Jay! I thought you hated the ring!” 

“I do.” He shuffled closer to her, holding out one hand. “You didn’t come back. I got worried about you, and I’m not the only one. Word got around that you were doing something dangerous again.”

She set the fox down at her feet, then took the offered hand. Jay wasn’t much bigger than her, so he had to swing his weight back to help her up. That nearly knocked him over too, but Kit held on tight. “I got a little over my head, but I’m okay now.”

“You look awful.” Jay brushed at her messy hair, wiping away the slime on her face with his sleeve. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Kit shook her head sharply. “Just a nap. Can you help me upstairs?”

“Yeah.” The mouse released her, then took her hand firmly in his. “Come on. Before anyone else realizes you’re down here.”

“See you at the department meeting tomorrow,” Kit called back to the fox. “Sorry I can’t bring your drone back for charging this time.”

Maddie hopped up onto a seat, curling the fox into a tight ball. Her plastic eyes watched Kit until they reached the airlock and vanished up the steps beyond.