The Last Human IV - 37 - The Last, Best Chance (Patreon)

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Coward was a word meant for other people. Not Agraneia.

Getting shot at? Find cover, return fire. 

Commanding Officer demands intel? Volunteer to head out into the night with nothing but your rifle in your hands, and your knives tucked into your boots. She never had to worry about shell shock, or the shakes, or the pants-shitting fear the other soldiers always seemed to suffer from. 

That’s how it used to be. But now? Now, Yarsi was on life support, and the doctors said they had done everything they could for her. And Khadam… 

You lost her. 

You failed.

Her anger boiled like rotten stew, making her sick with self-loathing. She needed to do something. Anything. But there was nothing Agraneia could do. So, she sat by Yarsi’s hospital bed, and clenched her jaw, and tried to ignore the voices that whispered in her ears. 

Agraneia had a silver chain wrapped around her blue fingers. Talya’s long, white feather dangled from the tip, though the bristles were starting to fall apart from where Agraneia had touched it so many times.

If only she could go to Talya…

But Agraneia, afraid of her own problems, had walked away from the beautiful wingmaiden. Agraneia had told herself it was for the wingmaiden’s sake. Since then, she’d only gotten worse. So why would she ever want to talk to me now?

And yet, her fingers couldn’t stop tracing the chain and the feather. Her ears couldn’t stop hearing the way Talya laughed—not that delicate, diplomatic one, but the real squawk and snort and laugh-so-hard-you-cry laugh she used to give after Agraneia made one too many bad jokes. And that look she would give her, with those dark eyes and white feathers creasing just so…

You ruin everything, don’t you? The voices whispered to her. 

Good.

It had been a week since they’d boarded the Ark. It had been three days since Yarsi went into this coma. No one had seen the Swarm since that first jump. All this peace and quiet, and Agraneia couldn’t gather the courage to talk to the only living person who made her feel good enough. 

Coward.

Die, and die alone. Like you deserve.

Her stomach twisted. Her fingers gripped the chain so hard, the links started to bend. Forget about the voices, Agraneia had more than enough hate for herself.

“Hmm-mmm?” A clicking hum from the other side of Yarsi’s bed made Agraneia lift her head. Laykis was leaning over the lassertane girl.

“What?” Agraneia asked, sitting up. “Is she awake?”

“Comatose. But I have never seen someone like this with such an active mind. Look. She dreams.” 

Beneath her blankets, Yarsi’s limbs twitched. Her eyelids flicked as her eyes rolled back and forth. Fangs bared, as her snout wrinkled. Like she was snarling at something. No…

“Is she … talking?” 

“I have been trying to read her lips. I thought she was praying,” Laykis said. “But now, I wonder… She mentions them by name. Their true names.”

“Who?”

Laykis lifted her eyes, until Agraneia could see the glow from inside the android. “The gods.”

If the android knew more, she didn’t say. And that was fine by Agraneia, who had more than enough conversations in her head, without adding one more. She held up the feather, trying to smooth out the broken vanes. A clump of down fell away. She rumbled out a frustrated sigh.

Two avian nurses came in, and fussed with the clear tubes feeding into Yarsi’s forearm, and gave Agraneia little dark glances. They brought a bowl of warm soup, with flecks of spices in the broth, and Agraneia offered to help feed the lassertane. One of them muttered her disapproval, like they knew who Agraneia was, but in the end they left her with the bowl. 

Agraneia managed to pour a few spoonfuls down the lassertane’s throat, when Yarsi started to splutter and choke. “Laykis,” Agraneia grunted urgently. “Laykis?”

At first, Agraneia thought she was dying, thought about sticking her fingers in the lassertane’s throat—until Yarsi’s eyes flickered open. Alive. Alive. She’s alive.

But her pupils were unnaturally pale, almost milky, and her gaze went past Agraneia. Agraneia pushed the table out of the way, knocking over the bowl in a rush to grab the girl by the shoulders, and help her sit up. 

Her snout wrinkled. Yarsi let out a strangled rasp from the back of her throat. 

“She’s talking,” Agraneia shouted, unable to contain her excitement. “What is she saying?”

“I can’t tell.”

Then, Laykis put her hand on the back of Yarsi’s neck, where the device was embedded in her spine. The android’s glowing eyes flickered off, just for a moment.

“Oh,” Laykis clicked. 

“What is it? Say something!”

“I can hear her. I can—the Key? The Maker is alive?” Laykis’s head turned to Agraneia, eyes glowing like twin suns. “Agraneia. She says she knows where Khadam is.”

***

The Ark’s one and only Habitation deck held a city. When evening came, and the virtual suns sank below the false horizon, Agraneia could almost pretend it was real. Floating globes mimicked the stars and illuminated spires, tower-homes, temples and belfries and sky bridges. Streams gurgled through gardens, green with new growth. Xenos leaned off the balconies, drinking and talking, or roamed the winding paths in twos and threes. Laughter and the clinking of cutlery poured out of two-story cafes. 

None of this had to be here. Khadam could have given them a massive, empty warehouse, and called it a day. Instead, the Maker had toiled on the Ark’s interior for years, creating this paradise in a cage for the last of xenokind. 

Only, right now, Agraneia couldn’t enjoy it. She was on a mission—one she should’ve undertaken the moment she boarded the Ark. Her boots carried her across a bridge, over a trickling stream, and through pristinely-paved alleys, until she found the balcony she was looking for. Golden-orange light rippled as something moved up there. Her heart fluttered, but it was just the curtain stirred by the breeze.

Agraneia had to force herself to unclench her jaw. To unclench her whole body. To make her legs carry her up the steps to the apartment’s door. By the time she reached the third floor, sweat beaded on her brow and stung under her arms. Why did I wear this old jacket? The weather was always perfect on the Ark.

Well, the answer was obvious. Talya always said it was her favorite.

A simple vine wreath hung on the door. A memory from Gaiam. Agraneia knocked. And when it didn’t immediately open, she started to take off her jacket. The sleeves were tight, and her arm was stuck halfway, and she was about to rip the damn thing when Talya answered.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

Did her throat catch, or did Agraneia imagine that? She dared not dwell on it. She didn’t want the voices in her head to know what she wished.

“I, uh, I came to make sure you were safe.”

“Safe?” Talya’s face soured. “My home was destroyed, Agraneia. Everything I’ve ever known is either on this ship, or gone forever. The Queen refuses help, which means she needs my help more than ever. And the people… All of us. Where are we? Does anyone know? And I’ve been alone all this time and you only just now cared to ask if I’m safe?” 

“No,” Agraneia grunted, “I mean, it’s not that. I don’t—” she swallowed her stumbling words. And tried again. “I made sure you were on the Ark.”

“Where have you been, Agraneia? I haven’t seen you, or heard from you. I only knew you were alive because I asked.”

“I sent you something. Didn’t you get it?” 

“That box of seeds and dirt? That was you? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Flowers. It was all I could find. I mean, it was all that was left from Gaiam. Thought you might want a garden to remind you of... It’s what I wished I had, when Cyre…” The words dried up. Agraneia scratched at the back of her head, feeling the head rise in her cheeks. Stupid. So damned stupid. 

But Talya’s eyes softened, and her crest of white feathers lowered slightly. “Oh,” she said gently. “Why didn’t you just come and talk to me?” 

Agraneia grunted, too embarrassed to speak. She could only shake her head.

Talya stepped toward her. Tilted the black tip of her beak up until those great, big eyes stared directly into hers. Agraneia flinched as Talya’s feathered hands reached out and touched the cyran’s torso, fingers gentle on her muscles. Then, the avian slipped her wings under Agraneia’s arms and sank into her embrace, cooing wordlessly as her beak pressed against Agraneia’s chest. 

The Ark was a shallow paradise, compared to this. No one else could sweep away the doubt and darkness like Talya. You don’t deserve this. 

And before she could stop herself, Agraneia squeezed her back. The two of them stood in each other’s arms for what might’ve been forever, and for no time at all. 

Murderer. Monster.

The voices crawled up her neck. Clawed into her ears. They chittered like needles in the wind. They dripped from the shadows, and wrapped around her feet, so that when Talya bid Agraneia to come inside, the cyran couldn’t move. 

“What’s wrong?” Talya asked, and Agraneia felt like she might be cut to pieces by those perfect, hazel eyes. “Agraneia?” 

Agraneia, a too-familiar voice crowed in her ear. Don’t you hear the way she says your name? 

But still, she couldn’t move.

How can you do this to her?

“Agraneia, please…”

“I can’t,” Agraneia growled. “I can’t be here.” 

Talya’s soft, hopeful gaze almost broke her. But it had to be this way. Agraneia had to do this. Didn’t she?

“I must pay for everything I’ve done,” Agraneia said. “They follow me. The voices. And it’s my fault. I made them. I killed them. But Khadam is alive. I must find her. I must be someone worthy of forgiveness, for what I’ve done. Where I go, there is no way back.” 

“Then why did you come here?” Talya asked, her voice quivering with rage and hurt. 

“I wanted to make you understand. And…” Agraneia nearly broke, then. She forced herself to meet the avian’s gaze. “And I came to say goodbye.”

“No.”

Agraneia blinked. “No?”

“Your goodbye is stupid. And I don’t accept it.” 

“Don’t accept it?” 

She couldn’t do that. Could she?

Can, and did, that rough voice answered in a dry croak. Battlefields are simple, cyran. War is nothing compared to this.

“You must believe me,” Agraneia said. She opened her palm, offering the feather and chain to Talya, “I have to leave. I hope you can forget me. What I’ve done to you.” 

“You stupid, self-centered idiot cyran. This doesn’t change anything. You think I’m so weak? So delicate? I survived the Imperial occupation. Years. I survived when the Magistrate tried to burn our city down—I survived, when the others were slaughtered. Do you know why?” 

Agraneia shook her head.

“No one must suffer alone. I did not underestimate the strength of others. Our people were lucky. The Queen was devoted to us. Silently giving us strength. And even after Cyre fell, and Gaiam changed, I found strength in another.” She cupped both hands over Agraneia’s, pressing the feather back into her palm. Wrapping the cyran’s fingers over the chain, until it was firmly in Agraneia’s grip. “You think you must do this alone? Then go, and find whatever it is you need to find. And remember that as long as you love me, you will never be alone.”

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