“Why?” Pyralis asked the pinned Elara, as tears streamed down her face. Just moments after getting her back. After hearing that she still loved her. Elara had just tried to kill her.
In stark contrast to the fury that Elara had displayed just moments before, she laid there frozen, staring into Pyralis’ eyes wordlessly.
No matter how hard Pyr looked, all she could see was the gaze of some cornered animal. Something that found itself bested, and froze in some hope that further conflict could be avoided. Not remorse, but fear.
Pyr’s arm trembled as she continued to drink in what had just happened. She stared at it, doing her best to will it to stop. It was her arm. Elara’s spare. She couldn’t stop herself as she ran its fingers down Elara’s, still straddling her.
A piece of Elara was a part of her, in a very real way now. She was touching her. Yet it still felt like Elara was someplace else. On the other side of the world.
Elara was still frozen there, but she began to tremble under Pyr’s weight. Her eyes watered, tears beginning to trickle down the side of her head. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to cry. This was her fault.
“Ah- I. I’m ssorry. Sorry.” Elara forced the words out, the words bursting forth, more a cry for help than an apology. She knew it wasn’t an answer to Pyralis’ question, but it was all she could muster.
Everything seemed to set in at once. Elara’s joints hurt, and she was hungry. It had been over a day since she had slept or eaten, and fatigue was finally setting in. Her prosthetics felt heavy, like they were pinning her shoulders down.
Pyralis didn’t seem to register the apology, still searching for her lover in the thing beneath her. She had seemed so close just moments ago.
The two sat there in silence for a bit, Elara’s hair getting more and more soaked with her tears as she continued to weep.
Pyr was the one to break the uncomfortable silence with another question. “Do you still love me? Really?” She had already received an answer to the question not a few minutes before, but something felt… different after she asked it this time.
The response took longer than she would have liked. Elara looked like she had to actually consider the question this time. Pyr’s heart began to drop until Elara spoke again.
“Yes. Always. I love you, Pyr.” Despite the words being the same, this felt like a profoundly different answer. The truth. Not just a dream, some hope, but a bitter pill the both had to swallow.
The words stung this time around, Pyralis finally understanding what that meant for the two. She couldn’t just let Elara go, or move on like nothing happened. She still loved the woman that had been taken from her, but it felt like she didn’t recognize her anymore.
Elara began to laugh to herself under Pyralis, pausing to sniffle until she came to an eerie stop. “Do you still love me?” She asked cautiously, as if prodding a bear. A weight lifted off her as she asked the question, having held it in ever since she had seen Pyr for the first time in months.
This time, Pyralis was the one to laugh. She covered her mouth in order to stifle it, and took a deep breath. Pyralis let herself fall forward, wrapping her arms around the back of Elara’s head. The tremble in her arm persisted, but it softened as she embraced Elara.
“Of course.”
Spark stood at the door to Faust’s room, holding her palm against the door. They hadn’t come back after the mission, and she had been too afraid to ask any of the others what had happened. It was fairly obvious what had happened after the corpse of the scarab had come in, reeking of the smell of rust.
She should have insisted they leave together. To the new base. She should have been happy that Elara was recovered, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Not when they had to sacrifice Faust to get there. He wasn’t as good a pilot, as good a tactician, they had won.
Except she couldn’t celebrate with her friend. She would never hear them again, laughing as they joked together in the dining hall. Never be able to spar with them again. Never be able to tease them, fight alongside them. Elara wasn’t worth that. She got to walk out of every battle without a scar. Live happily with Pyralis.
All after killing Faust. The woman who had killed one of their own was sitting in some room being comforted by the people she had just tried to murder. How was that fair?
She slid the door open, looking at the tidy room that Faust had left. It was spotless, every inch of the place looking like it had been newly cleaned. Of course he lived like this, meticulous with every inch of his work and living. They would never have let themselves be captured. Never turned their machine against their friends.
Spark made her way to Faust’s bedside, pausing for a moment to realize the sheets were freshly ironed. She wasn’t sure the last time she had ironed her own clothes, let alone a bedsheet. Had Faust tidied up before the mission, or did they do this every morning?
The obsessing over cleanliness was far from surprising, but this was to another degree. It felt like walking in a museum, each part of the room some artifact that had been tidied up.
She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for, but something popped out at her. A large crate was poking out from beneath the bed, jutting out from the otherwise perfectly tidy area. Pulling the sheets up, it looked to be a metal trunk. It was heavy as hell, but she managed to heave it out into the middle of the room.
What the hell was Faust keeping here? Mech parts? She moved to the front of the large box, attempting to open it up. Locked, of course. A keypad on the front glowed a faint green as she tapped at it, pressing in random numbers. No luck. Spark doubled back to look under the bed for anything else, finding a plain envelope. It was sealed with wax, bearing an Imperial insignia.
She popped the envelope open, and pulled out a typed document, running her eyes over it.
Imperial Year 3072: Day 0.
Today marks the first of the new year, when I write my confession all over again. If I am right, it should be Spark, otherwise referred to as Khyla Ghanil, reading this once it is discovered. Any previous copies of this document are located in the armored container beside the envelope in which this document will be placed in. The code is 992-1034-22046. My Imperial identification number.
I shall begin as I have with all previous copies of this confession. I am not a hero. I am not a survivor. To preface, I should mention that I do know that our current general, Alimony Frill, is dead. He was the last remaining person who knew of my history with this rebel group, at least in some part.
He would have called me one of the survivors of the Butcher of Warren. This is, in some part, true. More accurately, I am Warren’s killer. At least, I was.
My name was not originally Faust, as many of you know. It is a representation of change to me, and what I have become. Although, even if I wish to leave the past behind, it is important that I know what I once was. My name was once Theadora Maycor. I was an Imperial citizen, and was drafted into the war. From there, I worked my way up the ranks until I was eventually assigned an undercover intelligence agency role. A spy.
From there, I was sent to the closest rebel base to our base, rebel base warren. I was to pose as a defecting engineer, gain access to various maintenance tunnels and shafts, and flood the base with a fast acting inhaled toxicant.
During my time at the base, I grew fond of some people. This should have stopped me, but my Imperial allegiance ran too far deep. It was not until I watched those I had spent months with drop dead in front of me that I realized my mistake.
As per my integration, I was fitted with an implant not befitting a person of Imperial citizenship. My lungs and nasal cavity were replaced with a synthetic implant, capable of filtering various toxins. This made me immune to the agent which I had released into the base, thus I decided on another way to attempt to rectify the mistake I made.
I pointed my pistol to the side of my head and was going to end my life, in order to repent. General Frill found me before I could pull the trigger, and ended up pinning me to the ground to prevent me from ending my own life. I do not think that he knew that the mass murder was my fault, only that I had some part to play in it.
He was a good friend of mine. I was quite sad to hear of his passing. He convinced me to repay my debts by helping to rebuild. To spend the rest of my life fighting against the army which I had just killed hundreds for. I reluctantly agreed, and have since gone from role to role in rebel base Weaver.
I am sorry, Spark. I have spent many hours grieving the loss just as others have, although I know it is not enough. Do not mourn me, for there is nothing to lose. My only hope is that my death was in service of the rebel cause.
Located inside the crate found with this letter is various messaging with Imperial intelligence, to back up my claims. Additionally, a large Imperial remote messaging system, which should be adequately tuned as of my death to intercept and send messages to the Imperial Intelligence Network.
Please lay my body to rest in a forest without a coffin, and allow my blood and bones to feed the earth. I do not deserve a burial, nor a funeral. I would ask that one is not held in my honor.
Spark was in tears by the end of the message. She wasn’t sure what to feel, loss, betrayal, forgiveness, hatred. Everything ran through her mind as her tears dripped down onto the letter.
She had been recruited after the massacre, in order to fill the ranks. She had heard the stories from Preon and Frill. It was one of the reasons why she wanted to become a pilot. To kill some Imperial monster who would kill so many in a heartbeat.
Now that monster was dead, and she felt loss. Screw what Faust wanted, she couldn’t avoid missing them. Faust was rebuilding what they had destroyed, but even they knew they could never fix the damage they had caused. Not in a thousand lifetimes.
“Fuck you.” She whispered the words, almost speaking to the page. The paper that held what would be the last words she received from Faust. She wanted to hit Faust, yell at them, be angry at them, maybe try to live with them after knowing what they had done.
Except she would never have the chance. Faust had taken even the chance to be mad at them, asking why they had hidden this for so long. Why let people grow close when this was waiting for them?
Fucking Theadora. She wished she never asked to learn Faust’s old name. It left a bad taste in her mouth now. Of course it wasn’t a nickname. Couldn’t just be a damn moniker. Faust.
She wasn’t sure what to think about their death anymore. Should she still be angry at Elara? Elara had no knowledge of Theadora. She killed Faust. Not Theadora. Her friend. Who kept a secret from her.
Spark moved to the crate, opening it up with the code from the letter. It popped open, revealing a few stacks of paper, along with a very large box. She pulled out the box, presumably the communicator. It had a large monitor on it, and an analog keyboard. Pretty much a relic.
What was she supposed to do with this? She was still debating whether to reveal Faust’s secret to everyone else, and here she was sitting with an Imperial communication array.
She wanted answers. The pages should have been enough, but she wanted to hear something. Know that this machine was what Faust said it was. One truth she could at least confirm. Spark noted the machine was spotless, not a speck of dust on it’s shiny surface. Of course Faust had taken care of this too.
Spark powered the machine on, and it made a whirring noise, until it buzzed to life. Except- it wasn’t what she expected. It looked like it was connected to a channel. The box made a click as she saw something else connect to the channel on the screen. Could they tell she was on the line? Had she just made this thing useless?
The speaker’s came to life as whoever was on the other side began to speak. “Hello, who am I speaking to?” The voice was feminine, asking in a sickly sweet voice like she was a customer service representative.
Doing her best to do a Faust impression, Spark lowered her voice an octave. “This is Fa- Theadora. Calling in.” She kicked herself for actually responding, realizing too late she’d likely blown any chance of getting out of this.
“Well, I know that’s not true. The pilot of the Scarab is dead, is she not?” The voice asked, prodding at the fresh wound.
Spark grew angry at the comment, “How do you know? They- They’re still alive.”
She could almost hear the Imperial smile as they responded. “Let me take a guess. You pilot the unnamed machine. Spark. Khyla Ghanil. You studied under Pyralis Callisto and graduated your training after Elara Callisto was captured. A friend of ‘Faust’?”
Spark sat in horror in front of the communicator. Who the hell was this? Had she given them access to the network somehow? She went to power the machine off, but was interrupted by the machine talking again.
“We have a common enemy. The Imperial army. I can help you. I’ll start with a show of good will. You want to know about Theadora, yes?” The voice said the words like they were panicked, but Spark could tell there was something behind it. Like they were playing a game.
Although, if it was a game, Spark was going to play. It might have been bait, but she wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to learn about her dead friend. Get the truth.
She sat back down, staring at the flickering monitor. “Okay. You answer my questions first, and then we can start. How did you know my name? How did you know Faust was dead?”
The communicator stayed silent for an uncomfortably long time before blaring to life once more. “I knew Elara while she was in Imperial custody. I know that the Scarab, Halcyon, and Sunset were all destroyed in battle. The Vernonia was heavily damaged. Their pilots are likely recovering or dead. Granted this line came to life, which it has not for almost nine years, it was the logical conclusion that somebody else came upon the communicator.”
What she said… it made sense. It still felt like something was being kept from her, but it was a start. “Did Elara know? That she was killing Faust?”
“Your real question is did she know who ‘Faust’ really was. Theadora. No, she did not. I made an educated guess.” They seemed more curt with this response, choosing their words carefully. Guess it was fair. Spark didn’t trust them either.
“…Who was Theadora?” Spark was ready to turn the machine off as soon as she got the answer.
Once again, the communicator went dead for almost a minute before responding. “Before I give you an answer, I want to know if we can work together.”
Fucking Imperial. Spark moved away from the machine, afraid they could somehow see her. “Fine. Yes. We can work together on taking down the Imperial army. Only that.”
“It’s a start. She was an Imperial spy. She was tasked with rigging various systems in Rebel Base Warren to emit an inhaled poison. After the activation was confirmed, she disappeared. Assumed dead. Until Elara and I spoke.”
Spark looked down at the letter again. At least Faust had no more secrets to give. Maybe she could forgive them. It wasn’t her place, but she couldn’t bring herself to imagine Faust as a murderer. A monster.
She took a deep breath before focusing her attention on the communicator again. “Okay. What now?”
“I believe it is my turn to ask questions. What are Elara and Pyralis Callisto doing at this moment?”