Fabricated Chapter 33

[companionwolf]

 They don’t have time.

The thought permeates his entire being, dogs his every step. 

Every moment spent on this side of the Gate, as he passes the plasma sword to Davey and shows the man the proper handholds, as the Spartan teaches them the basics of firearms, as he and Alex practice Psionic attacks and defense— every moment, he thinks, every moment the Elders are not dead is a moment closer to the end we’ve tried so hard to prevent. 

They will never be ready, he realizes one evening during practice a week later, gun going limp in his hands. They are not XCOM. And even if they were they’re just humans. And they’re so few...

The Spartan comes over to him, a hum noise expressing concern. “Are you alright?”

“Just worried,” he says, and it’s a statement he’s made over and over. The Spartan gently takes him by the wrist and pulls him into hefting the gun back into proper position.

“Then practice,” it says, gesturing at the targets on the far end of the clearing they train in, already scorch marked from the humans, who talk and laugh above the firing of their weapons. “The life of this planet depends on it.”

The words do not make the icy cold fear settling in his approximation of a stomach any better. He looks toward Alice and Espeon, who sit on a chair a few paces behind him; Espeon wags her tail at him, Alice smiles, and his heart hurts.

The Spartan has left his side, is critiquing the humans again. PC finds his hands are shaking, and when he manages to get them to stop and begins to engage the targets, his gunshots are unsteady, blazing off into the trees. 

Elyion’s quiet voice in his head: you are right to be afraid, I think. I am afraid too. 

What if we can’t do this? What if we’re leading them to death? All of them? All of earth?

Then we die, but at least we will know we have tried. I think trying is the only thing we can do.

PC’s breath catches.

Where did you learn that phrase? 

In your head, it says. It’s something your Beholden says. I thought maybe since they would say it, if I said it, you might feel better.

He steadies the shake of his hands again, fires- this time, he meets his target, barely.

“I just wish things were different,” he says out loud. “That we had better chances. That it didn’t feel like the things that weren’t real and never were are gonna become real.”

A sense of a internal hug. Alice would say that you are thinking in worst case scenario, and to think instead think in most case. 

“I know, I know,” he says, and smiles a little. “Most case is we get hurt, but so do they, and maybe we force them dormant if we don’t kill them then. Dormancy would be better then activity, at least.”

Exactly. Whatever happens, it is unlikely to be the extreme case you so fear. 

“I want to believe you, I do, I just... worry.” He fires again, and this time, it’s a clean straight through shot. 

I know you worry. I can hear it, constantly running in the back of your mind. I wish I could make it easier.

“The reminders help,” he says. “Thank you.”

We will win, says Elyion. It just might not look like what you thought. 

When practice ends, a half an hour later, PC finds himself excusing from the makeshift dining table in the Welcome Center and then alone in the Psi Gate housing. He sits awkwardly in front of the Gate, stares at it, and remains like this until he is jerked from thought by footsteps.

Alex stands in the doorway, and after a moment, comes and joins him on the titles floor.

“Alice wanted me to check on you,” they say.

“I’m okay,” he says, although he doesn’t really feel the word that much.

Alex traces the curvature of the Psi Gate with their eyes. “Alice says it’s ok to be scared,” they say. “That she’s scared and she isn’t even going into the fighting.”

“I don’t want them to kill you,” he says. “I don’t want to have brought you all this way just to have them kill you.”

“But if we don’t go,” Alex says, “who will?”

The Beholden’s voice, suddenly, inside his head echoing from his core: if not now, when? if not us, who?

He takes a breath, finds it wavers. Alex raises a hand toward his shoulder, and he leans into their touch. They sit, the gentle breath of the leaves rustling outside in the wind the only noise. 

“Do you blame them? Blame us?” he asks suddenly. “For your psionics manifesting? For being part of this whole save the world thing?” 

Alex blinks, and then smiles. “I know if I hadn’t gone to that house with you guys things wouldn’t be like this, I’d be somewhere else- someone else entirely, but I don’t want to be that person. The Psionics are weird, but I’m happy they’re here. I’m happy I’m here. I want to do this.”

“Even though you might die?”

“Someone has to do something,” they say. “It might as well be somebody with space magic instead of somebody without, right?”

PC turns and hugs them then, tightly, deeply, finds he’s doing the body pillow approximation of crying a little. “Everyone says it’ll be alright,” he manages muffled into their shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I think they’re probably right,” they say as they return the hug, patting him on the back. “We’ll just have to go and see.”