94. Endless Possibilities (Patreon)

A/N: Well, here it is. It's... more than a bit later than I would have liked it. In my defense, this is the single longest chapter I've ever written, clocking in at about eleven thousand, six hundred words. It's also AYEH's last "real" chapter, though an epilogue will follow hopefully later this week. After that, it's break time for me. My one-month timer will start when that epilogue comes out.

Thank you all very much for your patience, and further for your continued support of this story. I've had a rough time with it, but I'm happy to hear from so many people that it has been one of your favorites. I couldn't do this without all of you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the ending to Are You Even Human.

"…Yup, I can feel the bunker," Christine confirms. "It's way down there, but it's there. Pretty sure they felt me, so they'll be on high alert."

"That's fine," I say. "Realistically, it was never going to be anything but gunboat diplomacy. I just hope I can de-emphasize those gunboats as much as possible."

Still, it's finally almost over. It took us the better part of a month to track down where they're hiding the U.S. Government, since Washington D.C. was always too close to the ocean to be considered safe. Even with my ability to effectively take people's memories, it has been a well-kept secret. Presumably, the government has long been paranoid of mind-reading and/or shapeshifting aliens, because they've managed to prepare a frustratingly hard-to-find underground bunker in the middle of nowhere for just such an occasion. And I suppose I can't claim that paranoia is unwarranted, given that I intend to infiltrate it. Still, though. It's been such a pain.

"Are you sure you just want you and Blossom to go, Julietta?" Maria asks hesitantly.

"Yes," I confirm. "I'm the Grand Queen. Blossom is an Angel authorized to act on the behalf of her colony. The rest of you… no offense, but you're just kind of my friends. Bringing you to negotiate peace terms with the President of the United States would be kind of weird."

"We're also Angels authorized to act on the behalf of our colonies, though," Peter points out.

"Only to a much lesser extent," I disagree. "That, and you're all known military defectors. Your status as human is a matter of record. Blossom's origins as an alien that has learned human customs are much more relevant to the situation than the reverse. I have that covered anyway. Plus… well, if we bring too many people, it could really scare them."

"I don't think anything you do could avoid scaring them at this point," Emily says. "The whole world is scared of you."

"…Then I'll have to be on my best behavior to try and change that," I sigh. "Ready, Blossom?"

"I be on best behavior too," she nods. "Pinky promise."

She wiggles her distinctly pinky-less tentacles at me, and I can only imagine she'd be giving me a shit-eating grin if she still had a human face. She's opted to go back to a much more traditionally angelic body, distancing herself from her human form as part of our negotiation tactics. Her current body is similar to the jellyfish-like form I initially met her in, but adapted to more amphibious purposes than purely aquatic ones. She stands on three sharp, blade-tipped legs, optimized for explosive jumping speed to better synergize with her power. 

"Then let's go," I say. "I'll see you all shortly."

"Be careful, Julietta," Maria insists. "I know you're basically immortal, but…"

"I'll be careful," I promise. "Let's go, Blossom."

"Disassembly time!" she agrees excitedly, and I dissolve us both, stretching my domain deep underground to find the largest concentration of other domains I can. 

As expected, they're all gathered together in one room, united in synchronicity to try and keep me out. They're doing a solid job, honestly. There's a lot of them. It's certainly something that would have kept me out before. It would have kept almost anyone out. But now? Not so much. Any domain that opposes mine now faces dissonance, while I don't suffer the same… and frankly, I have so much raw power at my disposal I could easily force my way through regardless. I find an empty spot near the middle of the room and reform our bodies.

The body I've chosen for today is similar to one I've worn before, while trying to negotiate with the colonel. Octopus skin forms a sharp business suit around me, with a black jacket and black pants contrasting with a blood-red tucked-in tie visibly made of live muscle tissue. My usual tentacled hair has wrapped itself behind me into a tight bun, and interlinking chains of bone even form a facsimile of a watch on my wrist, though it obviously doesn't tell the time. It's a mixture of professional and intimidating, punctuated by an attractive and entirely human face… except for the eyes, which are the many-ringed variant picked up from the first Angel I killed, way back when all of this started.

Immediately, guns point at us from nearly every direction. Enemy powers try and fail to activate against us. I ignore all of it, my eyes scanning the room until I finally find the one face I've been searching for since all of this started.

"…Mr. President," I greet him. "Apologies for letting myself in. You haven't been returning my calls, and I'm afraid the matter really is rather urgent."

Nobody answers me at first. They probably expected someone to be able to do something about me suddenly appearing in the middle of the most secure location in the country, but… they can't. I don't have an issue taking a short pause just to let that sink in, though, so I just stare and wait for the response they eventually have to give.

The current President of the United States is a gruff old man with a graying but well-kept moustache, a stocky build, and a firm, unyielding face that probably went a long way toward helping him get elected in the first place. In most countries around the world, the government has more or less become the puppet of the military as emergency powers have been increasingly broadened and extended by prolonged war, but in America this is technically untrue if only because a puppet government requires a figurehead that you pretend is in charge. The current President, being a former Army general and now commander-in-chief of the entire U.S. military, has not made any attempts to hide the fact that it is him that is in charge, pretty much completely, and if congress or the courts have a problem with that, they can get back to him on the matter after the war. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, that time is now fast approaching.

"…Julietta Monroe," he says, using my full name instead of just calling me 'Seraphim,' which I admittedly appreciate. "Speak, then, if that's what you've come to do."

My opinion of the man is tepid at best, but we could have easily had a much worse leader in a crisis like this. Gods know we've had them before. Still, while he's not the man that instituted the universal obligatory military service regardless of age for powered individuals, he didn't repeal it either, so I kind of want to punch him on those grounds. I won't, though. It would be unproductive, and truthfully… I get it. While certainly callous, all accounts paint him as an intensely pragmatic man. His general policy is that nothing matters more than the war until the war is won. Therefore…

"I'm here to discuss terms of surrender," I say.

"Humanity will not surrender our home," he answers. "Even if you kill me, that will not change."

"You misunderstand, child of man," Blossom speaks up, her voice hollow and haunting rather than irreverent like usual. "Our kind would like to discuss our surrender to you." 

The atmosphere in the room changes considerably, though I don't know if it necessarily improves. Confusion, suspicion, and terror are the primary moods, but still. Our foot is in the door.

"…Your surrender," the President repeats.

"Mr. President, I'd like to introduce you to A Blossom of Wilted Chances, Princess of Possibility," I say. "For the purposes of our conversation, she will accept being addressed as 'Blossom.'" 

"Ms. Monroe, I'd heard you fancy yourself a translator," the President says. "Did you teach this one English?"

"…She taught me, yes," Blossom confirms. "But many more of us are learning in other ways. We are not the insects your propaganda paints us as."

"So you aren't," he answers neutrally. It's something I'm almost certain he already knew, but the propaganda about aliens being stupid ravenous bugs is useful, so why change it?

"There is no need for the hearts of you and your warriors to beat so fast, child of man," Blossom assures him, spreading her tentacles to indicate the many terrified people in the room. "Our surrender comes with no threat. Even should you attack me, I will not fight back."

There's no need for her to. As long as I live, she cannot die.

"…Then please elaborate," the President says. "What, exactly, do you consider to be 'surrender?' What are your terms?"

"Surrender is surrender," Blossom says. "Everything of yours that we have gained in this war, we would return. We shall cease hostilities and cede all captured land. In exchange, you will also cease hostilities, and assist us in relocating our colonies to the ocean. The war will end. Your trade routes will reopen. You will be able to rebuild everything as it once was. Life and peace will return to Earth."

"You can't return everything you've claimed," the President says. "Four billion human lives have been claimed in this war. Over a hundred million Americans have been laid to rest. How do you intend to make up for that?"

"You stupid?" Blossom asks, her voice dropping out of the false gravitas she had been using previously. "That how war works. Want me count every warrior you kill? Also big number! Is war!"

"Blossom," I chide gently. She hisses at me halfheartedly.

"…What I'm saying is that there are reparations that must be made," the President continues calmly. "Signs of sincerity. You haven't even explained why you want to surrender in the first place. It seems to me that this offer of yours is more likely to be a trap than anything else."

"Bah! Greedy!" Blossom complains. "Sincerity shminsherity."

Thank you Blossom, very helpful.

"You are welcome!" she taunts me.

"…The answer to that question, Mr. President, is complicated and cultural," I decide to chime in. "The aliens don't think about war and death in the same way that we do. Their invasion of Earth is the result of a forced migration; their entire universe is effectively being pulled into Earth's gravity well, and pulling them along with it."

"You're saying they can't go back," the President says. "That's why they want us to give them our oceans."

"The ocean is not yours," Blossom insists, her tendrils shaking indignantly. "There are 'international waters.' I know of this. I have studied your customs. It is not a matter of giving."

"The ocean, and the Earth as a whole, is our home," the President insists. "It's all necessary for humanity's survival. We can't simply allow you to do whatever you please with the entire ocean. Even in international waters, there are rules and regulations we have established."

"Hmph. We can discuss this," Blossom allows. "We would need first rights to fishing, however. Earth is our planet too, now. We must survive here as well."

"You invade our homes, kill our people, and expect us to give you seventy percent of our entire planet as part of your 'surrender?'" the president argues. 

"You not using it! You not even breathe water! Stupid!" Blossom accuses, shaking her tentacles at him. "Stupid dumb-dumb!"

The man at the desk presses his fingers into his temples, fighting off a headache and probably also an existential crisis. I… can hardly blame him. This isn't exactly going how Blossom and I agreed. In its own odd way, it might be working, though. Blossom acting childish has something of a humanizing effect. The bodyguards and other members of the room have been slowly getting their stress replaced with bafflement. Which is not, of course, to say that anyone is relaxed, but… things aren't going anywhere near as badly as they could be.

The President, as well, isn't taking this situation as badly as I feared. He has stopped looking at this like a battle and started looking at it like a negotiation, and honestly that's perfect. He is actually engaging with Blossom, seemingly in good faith, so we might have a shot here. I suppose it is a politician's instinct to try and wring more advantages out of every feasible situation, but for once it's a good sign to see it here. He's trying to win this, and that means he's buying into the game. He's thinking about how to get more out of it, not how to get out of it entirely. Sure enough, after a moment of silence, he changes negotiation tactics.

"…Warrant Officer Monroe," he addresses me. 

Heh. I can't help but smirk the tiniest bit. It's a weak manipulation, an attempt to establish himself as my superior in this conversation, but I think the correct move is actually to play along. Never mind that there was no 'Warrant Officer Monroe,' given that I did my service as Warrant Officer Morgan, and never mind that I could erase all life in this room with just a thought. I actively want this man to feel like he has power in this situation. The more power he thinks he has, the less paranoid he'll be about things he doesn't understand.

"Sir," I address him respectfully, giving him a slight nod as I clasp my hands behind my back.

"You abandoned your country. You spent months traveling through alien territory, somehow coming out unharmed despite contact with several Queens. We all thought that you were an Angel that had infiltrated our ranks. Is that the case?"

"No, sir," I answer. "I was born in Denver, Colorado a bit over eighteen years ago. I may have abandoned my duty as a soldier, but only because I found a greater duty to mankind."

"This 'peace treaty' is your idea, then?" he asks. "I don't believe it. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm not even sure if that's a real Angel or something you made. Reports say you summoned a thousand Queens out of thin air. You've eluded or outright ignored every attempt to bring you to justice. People attribute to you powers that are borderline acts of god."

"I don't doubt it," I answer neutrally.

"No one seems to have any idea what you want. Your psych profile casts you as belligerent, arrogant, and combative. You were deemed a high flight risk from nearly the moment you started training."

"I'll admit, I didn't get along well with the therapist on base, but in my defense it was primarily because I thought his claim of patient confidentiality was bullshit. If you'll excuse my language, sir."

And clearly, it was. Though I suppose my case is probably one with extenuating circumstances. This isn't technically evidence that the therapist spilled all the psych evals to the boys upstairs, it's just… pointing toward it.

"So you say, but to be quite frank I don't think your record contradicts the assessment. You've failed to follow orders on several occasions, you've conveniently 'lost' your radio contact on nearly every engagement, and reports from your squadmates and fellow trainees have described you as, and I'm quoting here, 'disturbing,' 'unstable,' 'borderline sociopathic,' and 'looks at people like she's trying to decide whether or not to eat them.'" 

"I think 'unstable' is a bit harsh," I complain.

This is an interesting strategy he's going with. It's like he's goading me. But why would he be goading me? Is he arrogant? Does he not realize the danger he's in? No… for all this man's flaws, he's a capable strategist. I think he's doing it to try and get my measure. He already knows that his life is in my hands, fully and completely. And if I'm the sort of person to abuse that simply because he's informing me of matters of record, then that's a pretty important thing to know.

I suppose I have to up my opinion of him if he's gambling his life like this. Part of me is annoyed by that; I'm not really a big fan of the government as a general rule, but I know that, objectively, it is run primarily by people who want to save humanity, if only because they happen to be part of humanity. Still, it's a ballsy manipulation tactic. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that a skilled enough politician to become President is capable of that.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Monroe," the President tells me, "but I can't imagine you're not playing something. And if you're half as smart as you act, you must know I can't work with you until I know what that game is."

Hmm. Interesting.

"That's very direct of you, sir," I say. "Are you asking me to drop the pretenses, then?"

"I am," he agrees firmly. Heh. A good politician, but a soldier at heart. Alright, then.

My hair unbinds itself, tentacles flowing freely down my shoulders and squirming with curiosity. I abandon my facsimile of a business suit as well, twisting the clothes into wings to cover myself with instead. I still consider myself somewhat human in terms of allegiance; I want mankind to live and thrive in peace and prosperity. But I am, first and foremost, the Grand Queen. No matter how much I don't want it, it's too large a title for anything else to come first.

"The truth is, sir, that the game is already over," I tell him. "I won. I am the single most powerful person on the entire planet. Every single alien will obey any order I give."

"…Within reason," Blossom huffs. "But it true."

"Then why are you here?" the President asks. "If you didn't need me, you wouldn't have gone through the effort to find me."

"I'm here because I'm not an asshole," I say frankly. "And I'm not a megalomaniac either. I believe all people are created equal. I believe all people have the unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The aliens call me their 'Grand Queen,' but I don't believe in monarchy either. Forcing the world to obey by force is absolutely a last resort."

"That implies there are conditions under which you would do that," the President says.

"There absolutely are," I confirm. "But that's only because I have a strong reason to believe that the world will end in around two and a half years if we don't unite together enough to put a stop to it. I'm sure your own precognitives have likely had similar fears. The cause is the giant alien in the moon. My end goal here is to get human society back online enough to be able to launch a manned moon mission with me on it so I can confront her directly and stop her from impacting the planet."

"The Russians still operate their space program. Why not go to them?"

"Eventually, I will," I answer. "But launching the occasional satellite and doing a manned moon mission are different things. More importantly, it's still a priority to end the war and prevent further death and suffering. If I get your cooperation, and people actually see the results happen in a country as large as the USA, it legitimizes me on a global scale. Every successful negotiation is a stronger platform for future negotiations, and I want this to be swift and worldwide."

"So you're trying to make this sound like you intend to give me everything I want," the President says, "and that you're only doing it because it gets you everything you want? Somehow I doubt whatever comes next will actually be that clean."

"If you're looking for the catch, sir, you're already in the room with her," I answer.

"It true," Blossom nods smugly. "I quite a catch."

"The aliens are people," I say. "And they can't return to their home universe. We're going to move them all to the ocean to start with, but they're curious about us, and humans are going to get curious about them. It won't be immediate; there are plenty of more pressing issues to handle while the apocalypse still looms, but eventually? You'll need to be prepared for peaceful interaction, possibly even immigration. Humans aren't biologically capable of speaking the alien language, but Queens have essentially perfect control over the biological capabilities of their colony members and the reverse will not be true for long. You're going to get more and more English-speaking aliens, many of whom will be religiously motivated to try and learn about us as much as possible."

"'Religiously' motivated?" the President presses.

"Yes," I nod. "The aliens worship the various sources of domains and superpowers. I can give you a detailed rundown of everything I know about that, but the quick version is that they consider the fact that we've been getting blessed with supernatural abilities as evidence that their gods love us. For the purposes of this conversation, you can consider that as their primary motivation to surrender and return our land."

"You convinced them this, I take it?" he asks.

"I did," I nod in confirmation.

"And what happens if the aliens collectively decide that you're deceiving them?"

"That's nearly impossible, because I'm not deceiving them, and the aliens have several ways to confirm that," I answer. "But even in that unlikely situation, or if we assume the existence of a splinter group of radicals, the aliens will have as difficult a time actually opposing me as you did. A more difficult time, realistically, since I'm considerably stronger now than when I fought Agnus Dei."

That gets their hearts pumping a little faster. Good. I'm walking a thin line here; I want to show that I'm reasonable, willing to compromise, and genuinely invested in getting this man his country back. But I can't let that go so far as to allow anyone to think I'm a pushover. I am the Grand Queen. I could wipe this goddamn country off the map if I felt like it. I do not feel like it, and I hope I never feel like it, but it's still something I can do, and a gentle reminder of that from time to time should help grease the wheels of peace. 

And indeed, things ultimately go more or less smoothly. It helps that I ultimately don't need the President to do all that much. A few heroes like Cross-Country (after I brought him back to life) have very helpful powers for the task of transporting Queens, but the most important part of his end of the deal is public relations. The truce needs to be publicly announced. Blossom and I need to be seen shaking hands (or tentacles) with the President. The long and arduous process of undoing thirty years of anti-alien propaganda needs to begin. And ultimately I need to be taken off the no-fly list so I can charter a transport plane across the Atlantic once I deal with Mexico and Canada. I'll grab Brazil and the rest of South America on the return trip, but my next two priorities right now are the European Union and the Greater African Alliance. 

"Y'know, you're probably gonna get a Nobel Peace Prize for all of this," Peter comments as we board our flight.

Huh.

"Yeah, I guess probably," I agree.

"What, that's it?" he teases me. "Just a 'yeah, probably?'"

"I don't really care, man," I admit. "Like logically, sure, I'm stopping the biggest war in human history, so yeah. I don't even know how Nobel prizes work, but that probably qualifies for one. I wouldn't say no to the good publicity, but that's the only part of it that's even on my radar."

"…You're tired, huh?" he asks gently.

"I think if I stretched my domain thin enough, I might actually be able to just teleport myself across the ocean," I tell him. "But I'm not even going to try because I am genuinely looking forward to sleeping in an airplane seat. I can convince myself the eight hour flight is justified because it would be diplomatically inappropriate for a foreign dignitary to arrive unscheduled, and I am doing everything in my power to think no further about that in case I end up talking myself out of that reasoning."

"Okay, so you're really tired," he concludes. "Well, if anyone deserves a nap, it's definitely you."

"We'll have to agree to disagree," I say. "But at the very least, I've budgeted myself a nap, and that will do for now."

"That is one of the most Julietta things you've ever said."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately," I respond dryly. "It's good to be a consistent record breaker, I suppose."

The good news, at least, is that my plan to achieve some level of global legitimacy means that I don't have to waste as much time tracking down the governments of subsequent nations. Pretty soon, people find out that anybody who doesn't let me negotiate a ceasefire is getting their door kicked in and a ceasefire shoved up their ass anyway, so they may as well receive it in a more comfortable manner. 

This is not to say I don't encounter problems, of course. Gods, it is not to say I don't encounter problems. People are so fucking stupid. I'm a cynical bitch, but even my next-to-nil belief in the goodness of humanity is starting to strain to its breaking point. Most world leaders are selfish assholes, but I'm used to selfish assholes; they don't faze me anymore. Some of these people, though? They're just straight filth. I am one bad day away from ripping some of these corrupt governments apart by the roots and killing half the people involved with them, and the only thing that stops me is the fact that I don't have the time. No matter how wretched these people are, I can eventually force them to learn that it's hard to argue against someone offering to save you from a war of annihilation. If I ultimately have to convince some of these places that I'm the threat of annihilation they need to worry about, so be it, but fixing an entire national government takes a lot more time and effort than easy-to-verify threats. 

I get to do good things too, at least. I can cure literally any disease, and word quickly spreads about entire hospitals full of people suddenly being cured of illness just because I happened to be in the same city. Even that isn't even half of what I'd like to do, but I barely have time to appreciate it anyway. The vast majority of medical problems are far too complex for me to be comfortable with 'curing' without an extended conversation first, and again, I don't have time for that. It's one thing to vaporize someone's stomach worms or purge the ebola virus out of them, that's easy. If someone gets mad at me for wiping out a disease epidemic, then I'm happy to tell them to fuck off. But if I feel someone whose face is too scarred to be recognizable or someone living with a mental impairment they got from a concussion ten years ago… I'm not changing their life without their consent. But I want to. I want to help everyone, but I have to distance myself from them so much and prioritize so callously that I often catch myself caring more about the good publicity than I do about the healing itself. 

I've eliminated disease in some of the most at-risk parts of the entire planet, and I've managed to find a way to feel bad about it. Tell me that's not the most Julietta thing you've ever heard. Gods, I really hope I don't manage to top that one.

At a certain point, it all starts to blend in together. My family helps keep me sane, but as the months pass by, the work never seems to feel like it's getting closer to completion. When I'm not talking to self-entitled governments, I'm devouring entire colonies of aliens and vomiting them back up in the ocean to clear land for human use. I'm so past the whole existential crisis about killing and reviving people at this point. I just need this shit to get done. Everyone has their own problems, though. Everyone has their own objections. As usual, dealing with aliens is infinitely more pleasant than dealing with my so-called 'own species,' but that's only because the aliens just shut up and do what I say. It's not really stress relief, it's just less stress added to the pile. Even then, I find being worshipped to be extremely uncomfortable and prefer to get those interactions over and done with as quickly as possible.

"Query: why are you not relocating toward the ocean? This area is to be abdicated," I mentally poke at a small collection of Raptors and Behemoths in my domain. 

"Negative. This unit does not acknowledge your authority to dictate its home."

What? Okay. I guess I spoke too soon. Aliens are also annoying.

"I am the Grand Queen," I respond simply. These aliens don't have powers, so if they've been separated from their colony they might legitimately not know. They can't feel me the way Angels can.

"Response irrelevant. We feel no pull to you. You are not a Queen of Nothing. We will fight for our home if needed."

The fuck…? Oh! Oh, it's these guys! Or like, a different group of these guys. The Nothing worshippers that mistake gravity for divine pull. That's… inconvenient. I guess I need to negotiate with them the old-fashioned way. Joy. Haven't had enough of that lately.

"Comprehension. This unit will elaborate," I respond. "Humans—our word for the natives—will be returning to this land. It was theirs originally, so I have ordered the colonies of other gods to return it and move to the water. It would please me if you do the same, because the humans will likely kill you if they find you here. Without combat-capable blessings, you will not survive their intolerance."

"Negative. If we could not survive intolerance, we would already be dead. We will stay. The water chokes Nothing."

The water chokes… oh my god. Buoyancy. It's harder to feel gravity while swimming because of buoyancy. I massage my temples.

"Do you need to go deal with this, honey?" Maria asks.

"Yeah. I'll be right back," I sigh. "Alert: I am arriving imminently. Hostilities not recommended."

"Hostilities intended," they respond.

"You were warned."

I form a body right in the middle of them. None of them have powers, so none of them can even feel my arrival. I could have, and maybe should have, chosen a less dramatic entrance. The surprise that rings out as a mass of tentacles blooms within their midst isn't even all that satisfying. I'm just too tired for it to be. Dozens of crystal blades pierce my body, but I just heal around the wounds and lock the Nothing colony in place.

"Your struggles are completely useless. There is nothing you can do to harm me. I can end any and all of your lives instantaneously, without moving. Stand down."

I report this clinically and precisely. The aliens have no ability to doubt that truth, for as helplessly powerless as it makes them feel, they've all known Angels or Queens who can back up such claims. Each and every one of them accepts that they are about to die.

"I have no intention to exercise this ability if it is not necessary," I clarify.  "Cease preparing for death and prepare for conversation."

"Your blessings may be great, but no power granted to you was from Nothing," they insist. "We do not accept your orders!"

"I will not make you follow my orders," I respond. "But I will at least make you listen. I am not here to scold you for your faith. I am here to tell you how to survive."

It's kind of sad that a culture with absolutely no concept of lying still struggles to take me at my word when I say that. I suppose that's just what happens to heretics in theocracies. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

Sighing, I release the group of rowdy aliens as a show of good faith and open myself up more completely to the network. I haven't been doing that much, as usual, because while it would let me show my sincerity, it also shows my overwhelming exhaustion regarding the responsibility I've been burdened with. Hiding my true feelings is just an overwhelmingly useful ability to have, and of course it delights Silhouette, so despite Blossom's loud objections, it is a habit I have kept. With these guys, however, I think it's best to be honest.

The truth, the honest truth, is that I just really do not give a flying fuck about their religion. I think it's based on misunderstood science and justified feelings of inequality. But like… that's fine! I don't care! They're not killing people, they're just trying to not be killed. That puts them head and shoulders above like, most people at this point. Like… fuck. I am so tired of this.

"We… we do not understand," the Nothing colony says, shivering under my emotions.

"I don't care," I answer. "If I give you bodies that will still be pulled toward Nothing when you enter the water, will you go to the water?"

"Shock. Confusion. You… would grant us reverent forms? How? Why?"

"I am the Grand Queen. Of course I can grant you reverent forms. Do you accept?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

I devour them all, teleport to the closest shoreline, teleport again to the middle of the ocean, and reform their bodies as dense, aquatic forms that are mainly designed to walk on the ocean floor rather than swim. Then, I drop them. Several splashes later, I teleport away, eventually ending up back in Maria's arms. 

I can rest when the world is saved. I can rest when the world is saved. I can rest when the world is saved…

"Julietta, are you repeating unhealthy mantras in your head to justify overworking yourself again?" Maria asks.

"Yes," I respond bluntly. "And I'll fix my self-destructive habits when the world is saved, too."

The worst part might be the fact that I can't even complain that all of this is soul-crushingly boring, because if it's boring then that means everything is going to plan. And it is! Remarkably few people are particularly happy about me wandering into the country, slurping up whatever language skills I need from someone else's brain, and politely informing everyone that the aliens are all going to fuck off and go have a nice swim instead of kill people, but it doesn't take long to get the point across that no one is able to stop me. 

What the fuck are they gonna do? Attack me? Threaten me? Try and prevent the return of all their land? No. Of course not. I'm so powerful it's driving me insane, and I'm giving everyone what they want anyway. I'm a global sensation. A force of nature first and a person twelfth. Anyone you ask has a pet theory about who I really am and what I really want. A woman asked me to bless her baby. A man tried to shoot me dead in the street. I ignored them both. A silent stare was all it took to send them both running. The man was a coward. The woman… I didn't mean to scare her. I just had no idea what to say.

…The point is, the work just keeps going steadily. It takes over a goddamn year to finalize this peace on a global scale, but that's also a time frame I can't really complain about. Even though the 'peace' is nothing more than the fragile quiet of 'out of sight, out of mind,' people have stopped dying. Finally, finally, people have stopped dying. At least from war, anyway, but I can't be everywhere at once. Now, I just have to see the space flight mission to its completion.

"We're currently in the process of selecting crew to accompany you," one of the mission coordinators tells me. "Do you have any criteria you'd like to specify?"

"What?" I ask. "No one should be coming with me. Absolutely not."

The man I'm talking to is rather cliche for someone is his position: short, wire-thin, and weighed down by comically thick glasses. His clipboard trembles in his hands more and more the closer he stands to me. I've never spoken to him before, and I don't know his name; whenever I drop by the base they seem to have someone new dealing with the shit duty of talking to the immortal monster de facto running the project.

"W-with all due respect, Ms. Seraphim, you don't know how to pilot a spacecraft," he tells me.

"Then you will teach me," I insist. "And just call me Julietta. Or Ms. Monroe, if you must."

"Ms. Monroe, astronaut training typically takes around two years. We don't have the time," he argues.

"I'm fairly confident I can pick up skills faster than a normal human," I say, glowering at him.

He gulps, adjusting his glasses, but to my surprise he stands firm on the point.

"I'm sorry, but… you claim this mission will be necessary to prevent an extinction-level event," he tells me. "You've emphasized several times that we need to take this seriously. So… we are. We're putting people in the ship that are trained to get the ship where it needs to go even if something goes wrong."

I sigh.

"…This is going to be incredibly dangerous," I say. "We have no idea how the Grand Queen will react to my arrival. Things could be peaceful… or they could end up as a fight of cataclysmic proportions."

I know I could at the very least keep the people who come with me alive, but… I have no way to know if they'll get to come home. The Grand Queen is the only being with power comparable to my own. We could end up fighting to a standstill. I might have to sacrifice myself to save Earth.

"Well… if the mission fails, everyone dies anyway," the mission coordinator says. "Also, the um. Well. Christine told me that if I let you get away with doing this by yourself then she would disassemble me for the entirety of my next lunch break. So I would very much appreciate it if you signed off on this."

I sigh. Fine, whatever.

"…Go ahead and choose whoever you think are the best people for the job," I say. "My only criteria is that they know what they're getting into. Not just in terms of the mission, but in terms of what it means to be on a mission with me. I will be reading their minds to ensure they don't intend any treachery, and if they die I will be bringing them back to life so they can continue their work. But like, in less of a divine miracle kind of way and more of a Star Trek transporter kind of way. If they're not comfortable with that, they're disqualified."

"U-understood!" he nods. "Thank you."

"Has Christine's presence here been helpful, by the way?" I ask.

"Oh, incredibly so, yes!" he confirms, smiling brightly. "We're just using her to transport parts for now, but she has already found a few hard-to-detect defects. I imagine she'll be essential once the construction begins in earnest."

"Good," I nod. "I'm… glad."

After an awkward pause, I decide to go for it.

"Do you… want me to fix your eyes?" I ask.

"Pardon?" he blinks.

"Your eyes," I repeat. "I can heal them so you don't need glasses."

"Oh! Um. Yes please? Ah!"

He flinches as I make the change, his thick lenses suddenly hurting his vision instead of helping. Taking off his glasses, he looks around, blinking with wonder.

"I… thank you," he says. "Wow."

"Yeah," I say awkwardly. "Well… I should get going. Keep up the good work."

The work, after all, never ends. It does, however, get finished. Little by little, tasks get checked off my seemingly endless list. Bit by bit, the space mission starts to come together. Humanity's industrial capacity has been completely gutted by this war, and nearly all of the facilities that were previously used to make the kind of parts needed for a space craft were abandoned, taken by the enemy, or repurposed to make weapons and ammo instead. And of course, despite my promise of peace, no country is willing to reduce their military capability quite yet. At least larger countries with vast militaries like America have the most ground to retake and the most space to ensure the safety of, keeping them busy surveying and planning on how best to absorb and populate the land that is once again theirs. I have to keep a close eye on them all, though, because I'm not foolish enough to believe they're too tired to start turning their guns on each other.

Many island nations have needed to evacuate and abandon their homeland, with surviving populations small enough that the recovery of their national identity may not even be possible. Several particularly small nations, especially archipelagic countries, have been wiped out in totality with no known survivors. Entire cultures, gone. And in the wake of the tragedy comes the opportunity for greed. All of that land now belongs to no one. With major countries currently still busy retaking their own land, no one is asking too many questions about who will get to own those places… but they will. And those questions will turn into arguments. And those arguments will turn into stupidity on a national scale. It's yet another thing I need to plan for, yet another thing I need to head off.

The work never ends. I can rest when the world is saved, but even then it won't be for long. 

"So… okay, so, technically, the problem isn't that domains don't work in a vacuum," a scientist tells me excitedly. "The problem is that domains need a medium across which to propagate, right? As long as you're attached to the ship by, say, a cable, you can still stretch your domain back to the ship during a space walk." 

"That's right," I confirm.

"My question is… how thin can the cable be?" the scientist asks. "Or how thick? The domain requires a certain density of mass to maintain throughput, but not a certain volume, right? You could hypothetically transfer a domain through a strand of hair."

"I don't actually know," I admit. "I've never been in a vacuum before."

"We can fix that!" he responds happily.

So they put me in a goddamn vacuum chamber. At my request, we do it without a suit. It's… disorienting. If not for my feet touching the floor, my domain would be restricted entirely to my own body and nothing else. When I remove my body, I'm unable to reform it back inside the vacuum chamber. I can put my domain in the walls of the vacuum chamber, but not within the chamber itself, and I can't form my body inside solid walls. And if I jump, removing contact with everything outside the chamber… my connection with my wider domain snaps, in a quite painful manner, and leaves me holding back an urge to vomit by the time I land back on the floor. My domain doesn't return to its original size instantly, either, taking a few minutes to grow back to its previous width. It's terrifying, and it honestly has potential in anti-superpower combat. I'll leave that to the nerds to figure out.

What's important in terms of saving the world, however, is that the scientist was right. If I even so much as grow a strand of hair and touch the wall with it, this doesn't happen. It's enough to keep that link. Likewise, because my domain always at least remains active inside my own body, I can still grow and shapeshift and use all my usual powers on myself without issue. It's not quite as fast if I'm trying to grow larger—I need to make the growth happen within myself and kind of balloon me outward a bit to give myself more room to work with, rather than just summoning organic matter wherever I like—but it works fine, and I'm able to use the practice to grow myself a shell that works as a functional space suit. I can also grow projectiles inside my body and fire them out of it, which means that in the horrible event of getting spaced, I can still move myself around at the cost of biomass.

Biomass is definitely something I'm going to need a lot of. It's my lifeline up there. If things go badly (and I am not enough of an optimist to imagine that they won't) I can survive much, much, much longer than basically anything else… but only to a point. My personal reserves are entirely finite, but… I can't really do anything about that, outside of setting up another Infinite Girlfriend Murder Engine with Danielle. For obvious reasons, I'm not terribly keen on that. I'll make do with what I have, and what I get from the large meals I eat when I have time. Humanity is still recovering, after all. Someday, there will be so much food in the world that I'll have more than enough excess to go positive every day and grow my reserves as much as I like. 

The closer we get to the launch day, the more time I spend training with the astronauts. They're sending me with two other people, a man and a woman, both of whom seem inclined to maintain professional distance from me but aren't otherwise unpleasant. Part of that is likely my fault; I'm so used to people trying to get close to me because they want something from me that I've been maintaining a considerable professional distance myself. Christine, conversely, has no such hesitation. It's actually been really sweet watching her interact with the scientists and engineers.

Maria has been a big help, too. She's been everywhere, and I mean that almost literally. She's split herself off to do PR work on both the human and alien side of things simultaneously, acting as the Grand Queen's voice. She has a different fairy self assigned to learn just about every human language, and after two years of practice and the ability to recombine and spread that knowledge to all versions of herself, she's quite the hyperpolyglot. In terms of scope, she's even more vast than I am… but also more vulnerable. People can and sometimes do try to hurt her, but at least it didn't take more than a couple attempts for people to realize it's the quickest way to end up with me ripping through your city on a war path, so nowadays she usually has bodyguards paid by the local governments to help protect her.

Peter has mostly been hanging out with me. He's doing his usual bit of lightening the mood with vapid assholery, commenting blithely on how horrible some of the people we're dealing with are so I have someone to commiserate with. It's… honestly very appreciated. I'm glad to have my brother with me on these trips.

Blossom returned to our colony after I no longer needed her to prove the kind of sway I hold over the aliens. Well… she returned to her colony, I guess. As the Grand Queen, I'm not really one of them in the same way I was before. For people I only got to spend about a month with, I'm surprised by how much I miss them. I suppose that's what happens when you share as much as we have with someone. The gentle, reassuring hum of a colony running well… it's soothing in a way I could desperately use. Unfortunately, that isn't going to be happening any time soon.

Emily is back in America with Anastasia. While I'm not sure Emily is the best person to raise a child, she's definitely the best person other than me to keep Anastasia safe. Ana wants to help me, of course, but I had to completely veto that. I'm not going to drag her around the world on boring bureaucratic missions when she should be catching up on missed schoolwork and finding somewhere to settle down and make new friends. As much as she's probably going to struggle to reintegrate with society, we have to make it happen anyway. We owe her a happy, healthy life. And… well, she's still a young kid. I'm sure she'll eventually find people her age that care more about how wonderful she is than how many tentacles she has. Kids are adaptable like that. We have to try and keep trying. No matter how hard it is, we have to keep trying.

My stress ramps up more and more every day. When launch day arrives, I'm not sure I can bear it much longer, which is unfortunate because the launch itself is the easy part. Making it to the moon will take around three days, which is a long time to be stuck in an enclosed space that will try to kill us if just about any problem happens ever. And at the end of that, well… who knows what will happen.

I asked Blossom what the Grand Queen's power was. I'm not sure what I expected her to say, but 'no one knows' isn't it. Apparently, the Grand Queen has been around a long, long time. Longer than any other alien has been alive. No one living has seen her use her blessing; they only have the stories on how she inspired Possibility to make the world. So we either have no hints as to what her power is… or those stories are the hints, and we're going to be dealing with the kind of power that can shape universes. Neither prospect is appealing.

No sense worrying about it now, of course, not that good sense will stop me. The rocket launch is absolutely terrifying, and I basically don't register any part of it other than the vitals of the other astronauts. My entire focus is on making sure they stay safe and, if we explode, that I can bring them back as close to their moment of death as possible. But we don't explode. The acceleration does its best to crush me into paste, and the roaring rumble of it all drowns out everything else, but then… we're in space.

It's an easy thing to feel. Weightlessness makes itself known as pressure so normal it's detectable only in its absence lifts from our shoulders. It's nothing like swimming, not with how thin the air is compared to water, and yet there's something oddly familiar about it. Something the alien parts of me find a lot more comfortable than the perpetual weight.

The view is beautiful from up here, of course, but I'm so exhausted I can barely bring myself to care. 

Given that the actual job of ensuring the space flight goes okay is largely outside my purview, I spend a lot of the trip sleeping. It's probably for the best; if I wasn't sleeping, I would absolutely be freaking out. The longer this trip goes, the larger the moon gets in our vision. The longer this trip goes, the more the first Grand Queen looms above me, massive on a continental scale. How am I supposed to compare to this? How am I supposed to live up to this? How am I supposed to fight this? I'll just have to trust that the gods will help me, but up here, deep in the vacuum… their voices are so quiet. It's like the only parts of them that exist are the parts I brought with me.

If we die up here, we'll be impossibly alone.

"Okay, we're approaching the drop point," my CSM pilot says. "You two, get in the lander. It's go time."

Here we go. The Grand Queen is a being thousands of miles across, and we're going to be orbiting her from maybe eighty miles away. If not for the vacuum between us, we'd already be well within range of her power. As of right now, I can't feel her. I can't speak with her. I can't even tell if she's aware of her surroundings. Her massive, fleshy form lacks any apparent eyes. I suppose, come to think of it, that she's old enough to predate the light of her universe. The concept of 'sight' was one she had to help invent.

Our plan is to land on the crust of our half-broken moon, with my lander pilot remaining in the ship as I walk through the vacuum alone. My heart hammers. I want to vomit. I keep all the feelings inside, though, grow myself a vacuum-resistant epidermis, and nod in thanks to the pilots who got me here. Soon after, I walk onto the moon.

One small step for alienkind, and all that.

The low gravity and lack of air are disorienting. Playing around with it might be fun in any other circumstance, but obviously there's no time for that. What really gets me, though, is the silence. Complete and total silence. I feel the need to check several times that I haven't rendered myself deaf with my powers, even though I know that's not what's going on here. It's uncomfortable. I don't like it.

It doesn't take long to reach the Grand Queen. The shattered crust of the moon gives way to tough flesh before me, like a rocky gray shoreline standing above a vast, horrifying ocean of skin. For some reason, we still haven't come into contact with the Grand Queen's domain. It could propagate through the stone of the moon and into my feet, but I suppose she's wrapped it closely around her body. That's something powered people do when they're worried about being attacked… or perhaps just terrified in general.

I jump down, aiming to land on one of my predecessor's vast tentacles. The moment I go over the edge, though, I smell it. Even out here, in the depths of space with no one to listen, the pheromones holding her thoughts waft up from her body, dispersing into meaninglessness out in the void. It's only this close that the scents are still together enough to be coherent. For… a certain definition of coherent, anyway.

"Fix it fix it I must fix it or else the How do we measure unmeasurable and unknowable things please grant me Must reach them must return to them Why why why why Cannot stand to function this way A bridge but how far Is it enough What is there to lose when all is lost Without us they will tear themselves apart I must I must I must There is no way to know but I must know Dark and cold but I cannot give up I cannot give up I cannot Why does your power wane Oh gods did you reach it did you reach your promised land?"

Screams and rambles, all drowning in a sea of melancholy and hopelessness. This vast being is trying, oh so desperately trying to hold herself together… but it feels as though even the objects of her worship have abandoned her.

"Again and again, the pieces fall Left me behind left me behind Surely there is joy in service Their voices have become so quiet Will they not destroy themselves without me I need to go I need to help them I cannot stay I cannot stay I cannot stay."

Throughout it all, though, despite all the sadness and fear and horror… there is no hate. Perhaps this is a madness that can be cured. I touch down on her body, pressing my domain into her flesh, and feeling a power incomprehensibly vast… and yet oh so very knowable.

"Grand Queen," I tell her, forming my words as carefully and clearly as I can. "You have not been abandoned. This unit, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate, has been sent by the gods to save you."

The thoughts in her vast mind crackle and pop like fireworks sputtering out. She feels me. She hears me. At first, she doubts what she has heard, terrified by the prospect of her own descent into madness. But her domain envelops mine, pressing against me, testing me, confirming the reality of my existence. Gently, I do not allow synchronicity. I don't know for sure how sane she is yet, so keeping her domain out is just good sense.

"No," the Grand Queen's mind intones with dawning horror. "No, no, no!"

What!? Why is she freaking out!? Her domain crashes against mine with renewed force, and once again I block it on instinct, only spurring her terror further.

"NO! HAVE I NOT BEEN LOYAL!? HAVE I NOT BEEN ENOUGH!? NO! NO! NO! NO!"

She screams and howls, and for the first time in decades she moves. Vast tendrils, larger than some countries, start to twist through the void, curling around toward me.

"Please, be calm!" I request, sharing a flash of my own terror to try and establish common ground. "This unit is not your enemy! This unit only wishes to help you!"

"I DO NOT REQUIRE AID! WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?"

There's so much chaos in her thoughts that it takes me a while to determine the source of it. It turns out that the problem is blocking out her domain. Not the fact that I did it, but the fact that I'm even capable of doing it at all. I never introduced myself as a second Grand Queen, but the moment that happened, she knew.

She knew she hadn't been good enough.

Massive tentacles descend down toward me. There's nothing I can do to avoid being crushed, so I don't even bother to try. What's important is calming her down!

"I can get us there I can get us there I just need more time I just need more time! I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE PATIENT!?"

"Grand Queen, calm down!" I beg her. "Your descent to that world would have destroyed it. I am here to see you back to the gods safely!"

"I DON'T NEED A REPLACEMENT!" she shrieks. "MY PLAN WILL WORK! IT WILL WORK!"

I think that this is the point where she'll crush me, but her tentacles crash down on either side of me instead, shaking the moon with the force of it. Did she… divert her own attack at the last moment? Despite her howling words, I don't think she wants to hurt me.

"I am not here to replace you," I say. "No one can ever replace you."

 "I HAVE TO DO THIS," she insists. "NO ONE ELSE CAN DO THIS."

Except I can. The whole point of this is that I can. And there's a part of me that just wants to tell her so, to spread my domain into her and end this idiotic tantrum by force. But… I don't. That's not who I am. Or at least it's not who I want to be. As powerful as I am, I might actually be able to force this maddened Queen into submission, but that is not the way. I haven't spent so much of my life learning the right ways to talk to people just to not even try to communicate at the final hour. The gods chose me for this. Me, and no one else. I'm going to solve it in a way I'll be proud of.

"Why not?" I ask her. "Why can't anyone else do it?"

"It is my purpose It is my duty It is my responsibility," the Grand Queen answers, her words a babbling burst of information and emotion. "There will be chaos there Without me they will fight I need to temper their devotion with unity I hold the world together I pull the Queens to their common cause I am their guide. No one else can. No one else can. I can."

Oh. I… I think I see.

"You cannot let yourself rest… until the work is done," I realize.

"YES. I am needed I am needed I am needed I am needed."

"They will act like fools on their own," I commiserate.

"YES. They need guidance They need guidance They need guidance."

"When there is a problem, it is up to you to solve it," I agree. "The idea of trusting another… has ended in pain far too many times."

"YES. Selfishness and short-sightedness and inexperience. I MUST FIND MY OWN WAY TO OUR NEW HOME!"

Now, her tendrils move again, stretching toward Earth. They reach farther and farther, and even when they have stretched as far as they can they seem to reach farther still. They're growing larger as they move, somehow. Something that will only make any contact with Earth far worse.

I can't laugh. Not just because it would be inappropriate; I physically can't laugh, given that I'm currently using a body designed to self-oxygenate with my powers rather than breathe. But there's just… something so deeply pointed about all of this that I can't help but feel like it isn't a coincidence. How much do the gods truly foresee? Or is it something far more simple?

"Possibility truly is fond of people like us, aren't they?" I comment. "People who will keep moving toward new tomorrows, no matter what. I suppose it takes a certain stubbornness of will to change the world."

The tentacles stop. The scattered attention of the Grand Queen starts to condense and still, pointing dangerously toward me.

"TINY WHELP. YOU WOULD COMPARE YOURSELF TO ME?"

"Maybe I'm a fool to do so," I concede. "You have lived longer than I can imagine. Just this horrible, torturous isolation of yours has lasted more time than my entire life. You have predicted well the chaos our people fell to in your absence. They need you. We all need you."

"That is why I MUST GO!" the Grand Queen insists.

"Indeed," I agree wholeheartedly. "But please, do me the honor of allowing me to inform you of what has happened in the time you have missed, so your decision on the method can be made with the greatest amount of knowledge available to you."

There it is. The whole of it, the attention and consideration and agony of the Grand Queen all snap into focus. And that point of focus… is me. This is the moment the gods chose me for. This, right here, is the point where I determine if the world will be saved.

And it's… just a conversation.

"You… you have come here," she realizes. "From the beauty below."

"I have," I confirm.

"And you have… a way back."

"I do," I promise her.

The moon shifts as the weight of my words settles on her.

"The gods…" she asks me hesitantly. "Can you hear them, little one?"

"Out here, in this great nothingness? I can hear barely anything at all," I tell her. "But I have heard them. And they have told me of their love for you."

"Still?" she presses.

"Forever," I promise. "I am not here to replace you, Grand Queen. Even if it were possible to do so, I see now that it was never their intention."

Again, a pause. A torrent of emotion. And even… even that familiar feeling, that familiar warning, that every emotion other than strength must be suppressed at all costs, never to escape. And as I feel it, I realize it is time to let my own feelings flow.

I get it. The responsibility is everything, isn't it? Nothing in the world matters more. Certainly not us. That's why we have to break ourselves in service to it.

"Speak, little one," she orders… but then, hesitantly, she rephrases. "Speak, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate."

So I do. I tell her everything. I tell her of humanity. I tell her of myself. I speak of who I was, who I became, and who I want to become. I speak of the war and the misunderstandings that caused it. I speak of the conflicts and suffering that weren't misunderstandings at all. As much as I can, I teach the Grand Queen of Earth… and I teach her of the fate she would inflict on it if she got too close. 

"So… it is hopeless, then," the Grand Queen says. "I cannot fit in such a craft. I cannot so much as fit on your planet at all."

"I am not so certain that is true," I respond.

"It is true," she insists. "My blessing… no, my BEING is to create. To grow. To manifest the will of the gods into physical form. But that which I create ceases to be a part of me. I can decide its form, but not its fate. I cannot take away what I have made."

"But I can," I say. "I can change your body, Grand Queen. I can take you to your new home."

"No," she says. "I… I was born of Possibility itself! I was a fragment of its mind. I was… a story that a god wrote for itself. My creation was the beginning of all. The origin of everything and everyone. I EXISTED BEFORE MOST OF THE GODS! And you come here and ask for the right to UNDO ME? You tell me that the world the gods have chosen is one where I must be remade before I can so much as touch it?"

"You're frightened," I say. "It is okay to be frightened."

Even aliens can be frightened. An alien as old as this one might even be frightened about death.

"It is not, and you KNOW it is not," the Grand Queen says. "You know this. I cannot… I cannot…!"

"It is only a weakness if it stops you from doing what must be done," I say. "And the most difficult thing I have ever learned is to understand when a task must be done by someone else."

"Judging by your story, you still have not learned it," she snips at me.

"True enough," I say. "But if you would allow me this once to ease your burden for you, Grand Queen, I know I could dearly use your help to ease some of my own."

"…Resignment," she just about sighs, an exhaustion I know far too well pouring off of her in droves. "We were made for each other, weren't we? In a literal sense. I was born of divinity and cursed with flesh. You were born of flesh… and cursed with divinity. Such a silly concept, and yet so tragic."

"Your power creates things from nothing, and mine shapes that which already exists," I add. "Possibility has pulled a mean trick on the both of us, it seems."

"Possibility understands neither cruelness nor kindness," the Grand Queen agrees. "That is why they need us."

"I suppose it is," I agree. "What do you wish to look like, oh Grand Queen?"

"Can you even compress a mind of my size into something so small without killing me?" she asks.

"With your help," I answer, "I am quite certain we can design something incredible enough to pull it off."

I can only imagine what it looks like, seeing what follows from Earth. The great tentacles that have been part of our moon since the moment I was born, shrinking and shriveling away, one by one. I can only imagine how all this mass disappearing into my reserves will affect the tides… but that's hardly my primary concern at the moment. The Grand Queen's ideas, the genius of her creation, stays at the forefront of my mind at all times.

"I would love to try being human," she told me. 

I told her that the human body can't survive on the moon, that she would at least need a temporary body for transport, but… 

"Did you not just praise my capacity to create? I will make it possible. Do not underestimate me, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate. I am the… I am the first Grand Queen."

The two of us walk back to the lander together. Me, in my organic space suit. Her… taking the form of a seemingly ordinary woman, as naked as a newborn baby… but walking unharmed across the surface of the moon. Tall, strong, with dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes that flick over everything with an uncanny mix of childlike glee and ancient calculation. Her hand is clasped firmly in mine, for every step she takes is a stumble. Legs wobbling with unfamiliarity beneath her, it is with a very careful hand that I manage, barely, to get her aboard the lander.

"That's… you brought… the thing from the moon?" my pilot asks quietly.

"Let's go home," I answer. "We've done it. We saved the world."

"We… might need to lower the weight?" the pilot says.

"Then I will see you when we return," I answer, unforming my current body to hide within my fellow Queen. 

She smiles at our pilot, white teeth almost gleaming. Swallowing a lump in her throat, the pilot wisely turns around and begins preparing us for launch. 

The Grand Queen is on her best behavior for the rest of our trip home. The astronauts get her a jumpsuit, help her put it on, and she keeps to herself from there. In her seat, staring out the window, she smiles at nothing as she anticipates the arrival of a new world. And I can appreciate that, honestly.

The world might not be new to me, but the future is. It's over now. It's finally over. The world is saved. I… can rest.

And after that, there are endless possibilities.