ΔV Pt. 11

Qasim pursed his lips. He didn't say that he had only been trained to die. Instead, he waited for the Captain to continue -- and DuPont let the moment hang. He walked to the simulated window -- the view did not rotate, as it should have. It showed the paradise of Arcadia. He shook his head. "Part of me wants to stay. To build up our forces. But that's not on the cards, is it."

Qasim nodded -- and said nothing at all.

***

Vidya stood by the door and rubbed her shoulder. The Enterprise had always felt claustrophobic, but the number of people who had filled her corridors for the big meeting made the place feel as cramped as a sardine can. She looked at the door and chewed her lower lip. Several officers were at the end of the corridor, chatting with one another about some duty or mission they had. She let the words flow past her without even thinking of them. She knew that if she opened the door, one of them would notice. They'd ask around. They'd talk. The whole ship would know.

And she'd know.

She felt like an idiot. Right now, the Earth was under the boot of a long dead necromancer, and her husband had been ripped away from her again -- and here she was, thinking about...this.

But gods.

Gods.

Gods she missed being held. And she needed it with a bone deep ache. She needed the terror and the fear of the world around her to be pushed away. To be forgotten, if only for a little bit. She needed -

The door opened and Mohammad stood there, mustache looking freshly combed. Vidya felt the urge to run her tongue along him like a visceral gut punch. The fact that he was so completely unaware of just how gorgeous he looked only made him more attractive -- and the downtime he'd gotten since they had arrived in Arcadia and his personal scientific skills had not found an immediate use meant that he had had plenty of time to hit the gym. His muscles were as refined as she'd ever seen them -- and those gentle eyes of his met hers, and filled with concern.

"Vidya?" he asked. "I've been reading the briefs -- it's all...a..." He trailed off. "Are you all right?"

"No," Vidya whispered. "The whole world has gone insane. Sukhdeep is gone -- I..." She closed her eyes. "M-May I come in?" Her voice was so soft that she couldn't even hear herself over the low, constant roar of the Enterprise's air recycling. Mohammad looked stricken -- but his hand went to hers. His fingers, so smooth and gentle, closed around hers and he drew her into the room. The door hissed shut. The space felt, compared to the packed commons of the Enterprise, decadently huge. Vidya breathed in Mohammad's warm, clean scent.

"Here, let me get you some tea," Mohammad said. "I have a drink bulb around here."

He turned away and began to rummage around.

Vidya gulped.

"It will be all right," Mohammad said, quietly.

Vidya stepped forward, as if she was in a dream. Her gut knotted and she knew she shouldn't. But gods. She had wanted to do this since before her husband had ever died, and knowing that felt like a stab and a twist in her heart. Her palms pressed against Mohammad's back and his fingers stilled as he gripped one of the drink bulbs he had contained in the personal storage unit in his room. His back was knotted, like iron cables, and her fingers drew slow circles along his muscles as she whispered. "I need...I need to forget, Mohammad."

The memory of earlier today -- of the accidental trip. Of his arms catching her arms. Of their mouths, being so close she could almost feel his mustache, brushing against her lips. She trembled as she felt a glow lit between her thighs -- a heat so intense that she nearly mewled with want. Her face pressed against his shoulders. Mohammad shook his head, slightly. "No..." He whispered. "No, I cannot."

"Please-"

"No!" He turned about to her, grabbing her shoulders, his glare meeting her eyes. "I cannot."

"But-"

"Vidya..." Mohammad paused. "I cannot." He turned to face her, gripping her shoulders. "We are friends. You are...not thinking straight. Anything that happens now would destroy what we had -- and you would hate yourself for it." He looked into her eyes, his voice growing more gentle. "And even if we did, I could not do what you wish me to do."

Vidya's brow furrowed. Her mouth opened and then closed. "Oh," she whispered. "You're..."

Mohammad sighed. "I am what I am. It...I don't quite know the word for it." He shook his head. "I am not homosexual. But while I am your friend, I am not...what you want." He finished, somewhat lamely. His head shook from side to side and Vidya felt all her memories of the close, near brushes she had had with Vidya...and she wondered, suddenly, how much of it had been her desires. Projections against a kind mirror. She flushed and her head swung to the side and she pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she choked.

And she fled.

In her room, the door closed, her back pressed to it, Vidya closed her eyes and dragged in a ragged gasp. She felt that magic in her belly, that half trained, half understood power. And she wanted to use it. Somehow. To throw it out and drag Sukhdeep to her, to pull him back and to ask her everything she had been terrified to voice. Was he really there. Was their marriage still real, or was it as ephemeral as his new body was? She put her hands over her face and tried to throw out that power -- but her fingers burned and buzzed with a kind of electrical feeling. And then it died away, fading into nothingness. Vidya breathed out and it almost came like a whine.

And then a small dragon appeared on the ground before her. Vidya had heard his name -- but she honestly couldn't remember it. It had flown out of her head with the shock of the moment. Her mouth opened, then closed, and the dragon, his nose sniffing at the air, turned his head back and poked his nose at his own tail, chasing himself for a few moments. Then, spinning around, he looked back up at Vidya, then waved at her with one scaled paw. "Hi!"

"Hello?" Vidya asked.

"I'm Hua! You look sad," Hua said, nodding. "What's up?"

Vidya sniffed. "Oh...I'm just an idiot. A useless idiot. I've got a degree that doesn't matter, a lust that cannot be fulfilled, a husband that cannot be found and is dead and...it's just..." She sighed. "I don't know what to do."

Hua hopped up onto her drawn up knees, standing there as lightly as a kitten. His paws felt very soft. Then he reached out with his head and gently bumped his soft, wet nose against her nose. "Boop!" he said. "There. Now, you have been touched by a celestial dragon -- that means you're more special than most of everyone in the entire world. In two worlds, actually. Qasim says there are almost seven billion people on Stark, so you're more special than the entire of that number. And..." He drew his wings back, flattening them against his wings. "Qasim is good with magic. What happened with your husband?"

"He died..." Vidya whispered.

"Oh!" Hua said. "I'm very good at making sweet love to widows."

'I-" Vidya blinked. "What?"

"Nothing cheers a sad lady up more than gentle lovemaking!" Hua said.

"But my husband is a ghost!" Vidya blinked. "And you're the size of a kitten!"

"I can shapeshift," Hua said, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Then he gasped. He gasped so hard, so loud, and so eagerly, that he literally swelled up like a balloon. Then, with a pop, he vanished. Vidya was left, so confused and non-plussed by the moment, that she was still sitting on the ground, back to the door, when the Captain, the entire council of elven magi, and Prince Qasim himself, came down to her rooms and dragged her to the meeting room.

In a short time, Vidya rather wished she was still useless.

***

Dale stood above Annie, his head hanging forward. The hole on her forehead was small and delicate -- neat, as if punched in by a drill. But Dale had seen the back of her head as well. The image had seared itself into his eyes. His eyes closed and he picked up the small gemstone that he had chosen. His fingers worked upon it and he began to whisper softly. The incantation was one he knew well, but he had rarely used -- and the powers that dragged at him were weightier than many spells he had cast. But he needed to cast the spell. It felt as if the whole world was weighing on his shoulders, pressing him down. But Dale had no time for feeling. For emotions. He only had time for the incantation. He formed it, whispering and making the passes faster and faster.

The gemstone in his hand began to glow.

It began to heat.

The incantations came faster and faster. He felt the power growing. Underneath his magic, Annie's body began to twitch and writhe. The wound on the back of her head closed, bone growing back together. The brain formed underneath, invisible to Dale's eyes. The bullet that had ripped through her lungs was gone, and the lungs could grow back together. Her body,in a few moments, looked as if it had never been hurt. His fingers clenched on the gemstone.

Molten, dripping gemstone flowed past his fingers. It should have burned. But it was not the heat of fire -- it was the raw heat of magic. And at the last moment, he cried out -- the last word, the capstone to the ritual.

And Dale felt his stomach wrenching. Magic scattered through his hands, flowing and twisting aside. It flowed off in each direction, swirling away and Dale gasped, falling to one knee as he felt the spell trying to jerk free of his control. It writhed under his grip and he opened his eyes. He physically reached out, and worked the most complex spell he had ever improvised. The ressurection magic felt as if it was trying to tear the whole room apart -- the energies normally used to drag a soul back to a body instead seeking to lash out, to smash down the walls, to tear apart his own body. Dale snarled out words, gutteral words in orcish, as he used the arts of the Sur shamans to control the spell. He threw in t'row song, the elden language of the fae, even Vedic numerals.

At last, the magic buzzed away.

The gemstone was gone -- evaporated in the blaze of energy.

And Annie was still dead.

Dale panted, glaring at her.

That had not been a fault in his casting. That had been something else. That had been a force, grabbing onto his spell and twisting it. And there had been no care or thought to it. If he had to compare it to anything, it had been as if he had been painting a delicate portrait and someone had grabbed his arm and wrenched it hard to the side.

Dale frowned -- and he nodded to himself. This confirmed something he had suspected. Now the question that burned in his mind was what to do about it. He closed his eyes, then placed his thumb to Annie's forehead. This was not what he had wanted to do...but it was what would have to do until he could solve the larger problem. He whispered under his breath. Magic flowed once more.

Once he was finished and had emerged from the room, his council of administrators were waiting for him. Heydrich stood at their head. Strange. He had been as far back as he had been before. Dale -- feeling worn and wrung out by the double spells -- regarded him coldly. "My lord," Heydrich said, his voice clipped. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Dale said, his voice soft.

"I have been considering," Heydrich said, his voice growing more firm. "The city should be shown what attacking your wife gets them-"

Dale lifted his hand. His finger clenched and Heydrich's eyes widened.

"Ghost," Dale said, his voice a low snarl. "Do not push me. Do not suggest things to me. Do not do anything but what I order you to do. Or else, so help me gods, I will..." His lips pursed. "I heard what Annie said to you. You recall it? About the bidet?" He leaned forward. "I will do far worse."

He released him.

And he strode away.

And Heydrich stood, his eyes gleaming furiously.