The Splintered Child
As we rest our heads on the pillow, the Dreamer looks at Tesin’s soul, and pulls forth a dream as fractured as she. We see the Haze, all-consuming, but twisting in all directions, seen through dozens of pieces of broken glass. One of the pieces shines, and we are pulled in, to a dream unlike any you have ever seen. Our view starts in space, deep in the Vast. Although we cannot pick out our location by the stars, the Haze tells us that we are on the rim of the galaxy, as far as mankind has ever gone. The lens focuses on an asteroid, a small explorer starship attached to one side. Zooming in, we go deeper into the stone. The rough texture of the rock fades away, and inside, we see smooth, circular halls, as if bored out by some enormous worm, and then polished by thousands of hands. In the center of where all paths meet, we see a young Lashunta standing before an iron basin, filled to the brim with some undulating, mercuric liquid. You instantly recognize Shalema, although she must be almost two decades younger. She’s afraid, the inside of her spacesuit building with steam, but you sense the resolve of a Project 9 agent build within her, and then she reaches to her belt, and pulls out a specimen jar.
A thick glove pulls a silvery ladle from inside, which scoops up some of the liquid, and with the stillest hands you ever seen, pours the liquid inside. Disaster strikes. The liquid melts through the ceramic. Then the glass. Then the insulated coating. And then the metal outside. As if alive, the specimen crawls up and around the jar. Shalema has just enough time to drop it before taking a step back, but the liquid creature leaps, lands on her hand, and enters her spacesuit, like water filtering through paper.
Shalema: “Fuck. Fuck.”
Shalema turns to head back towards her ship. There’s a hatchet in her emergency kit. She’s already resigned that she’ll lose her arm. She gets one step. Two. Three. And then we see the mercury appear at the side of her neck. She panics, breath steaming up her visor entirely, a frightened scream, and then drowning silence. Shalema goes unconscious. Then, as if receiving a signal, the remainder of the liquid in the basin rises, drips down the sides, and crawls across the smooth bored halls - directly into Shalema’s suit.
We cut, to another broken piece of glass, to another Haze. Shalema is alive, crawling towards her ship. She barely gets inside, and sighs with relief as the airlock closes. Looking over her body, there is no trace of the specimen. At the cockpit she does an internal scan. No foreign lifeforms detected. Whatever the creature wanted, it must have escaped afterwards. Relieved, Shalema starts up her Drift Engine, and looks out to the stars. She had failed her mission, but she was alive. Thank the gods for that.
Another cut. We find ourselves in an office. One we’ve been in before, but far in the future. None of you recognize the Lashuntan man sitting across the desk from Shalema, calmly scouring her reports. He looks nothing like Jessel Kesh. His shoulders are wide but his body is thin. His skin is a light blue, but his eyes are a startling orange color, as if he had them modified. He plays with a cufflink on his tailored suit as he reads, and then looks up to Shalema, sitting ramrod straight ahead of him.
???: “The specimen… Vanished?”
Shalema: “Yes, sir. When I awoke, it was gone. Scans from both the ship and the Station 9 entrance hall report no alien lifeforms in my system. No irregularities in my anatomy. It just knocked me unconscious, and escaped.” The man looks over the reports again, specifically at the bio scans. You can tell there is something he wants to say, but he’s finding how best to say it. ???: “Alien lifeforms, no… But additional…” The man looks pointedly at Shalema, and then down at her stomach. Shalema looks confused for a moment, and then realization sparks. She stands, holding a hand to her abdomen, craning her neck to look at the bio report. Shalema: “I’m pregnant?”
???: “It appears so. But you're quite along. Six weeks, maybe seven. But we know from your records…”
Shalema: “Only for the mission. And not in a year. And I had an operation...” Shalema pales. The man nods, and then pinches the bridge of his nose. He glances up, and the camera spins to two armed security guards, standing at attention in the back. ???: “Junior Agent Shalema. You have been put on leave. You will report to the Doctor immediately.” Shalema stands up a little straighter. The Haze shows us her anger and fear, bouncing around inside like a red, screaming snarl -- but on the outside, she looks composed. She turns to the security guards, and leaves the room. Another cut. Some time has passed, but the Haze doesn’t tell us how much. Shalema is strapped onto a delivery bed, her face covered in sweat, howling in pain as she gives her all for one, last push. Then a moment of silence. Shalema rests her head back. A doctor, covered from head-to-toe in hazmat gear, works between her legs. Another moment. And then a scream. The healthy scream of a baby. The doctor lifts a tiny, yellow Lashunta from the table, swaddles it in a hospital blanket, and hands it to Shalema. She hesitates, looking at it with a mix of maternal love and scorn, and then escapes the child into her arms. The camera hovers over her shoulder. We see a tuft of blue hair. Smooth, yellow skin. And brown eyes, flecked with mercurial silver. Then the dream fades... But by the Beekeeper and the Dreamer, a trailing Dream, almost too fractured to process, is brought into the Haze. We see Tesin, perhaps four or five years old. Her azure hair is down to her knees, in a loose waterfall covered in pins and decorations. A large t-shirt covers her body, clearly from Shalema, who sits adjacent to Tesin on a comfortable-looking loveseat, one arm around her, another holding the remote to a TV. A children’s show is playing in the background. Tesin is transfixed with the plot of the show. Shalema is going along, giving her daughter subtle glances, openly revealing her gentle smiles. Such moments of bliss have been common these past few years. But they’re about to come to a close. The door to the living room opens. Shalema stiffens, her arm tightening around her daughter. The man from before, a member of Project 9’s board, walks in like he owns the place. He does, but he’s not welcome here. The TV shuts off, but Shalema never touches the remote. Tesin looks up, finally recognizing the intruder. She knows better to speak, but glares at the man over her mother’s arm. ???: “It’s time, Shalema. She’s of age.” Shalema’s expression is a kaleidoscope. Anger. Longing. Regret. Acceptance. Denial. Shalema: “Give me another year. They usually don’t start until they’re six.”
???: “They start when they’re selected, Agent. Her numbers are phenomenal. She’s in. It’s time.”
Shalema: “We’ve never had an Agent’s child join, it’s unconventional-”
???: “It’s an order, Agent. Let’s go. The Doctor is waiting.” Shalema tenses, and looks at her daughter. Tesin looks away from the man, the naive anger of a child falling into curiosity. She has no idea that she is scheduled to be wiped. That she will wake up tomorrow with no memories, and begin her training as a member of Project 9. That this is the last day she’ll remember her mother, or the life they had here. A tear falls down Shalema’s face. A hand rises to cup Tesin’s chin. Shalema: “I’ll do it myself.” The camera lifts over Shalema’s shoulder, putting the Board member back into view. He opens his mouth to object, but seems to consider something, and then nods. The camera spins to Tesin’s face instead. ???: “Very well. Proceed” Shalema’s hand tightens, holding her daughter still. The little girl looks back and forth between two of the three adults she’s ever known, her voice now building with fear. Tesin: “Mama?”
Shalema: “Sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” A psychic knife erupts from Shalema’s finger, and enters Tesin’s brain. The little girl jerks, immediately falling unconscious, her half-open lids revealing wild and terrified eyes. Shalema releases a deep sob, and erases Tesin’s memory. Or at least, this is what the Board member sees. The camera makes a slow spin to Shalema, the sounds of her crying continuing. We hear Tesin whimper, and then fall silent. Shalema wipes away a tear. A somber, clever smile splits her lips. A nova of hatred builds in her eyes. The Haze screams of revenge, and the dream fades.
Shalema: “Yes, sir. When I awoke, it was gone. Scans from both the ship and the Station 9 entrance hall report no alien lifeforms in my system. No irregularities in my anatomy. It just knocked me unconscious, and escaped.” The man looks over the reports again, specifically at the bio scans. You can tell there is something he wants to say, but he’s finding how best to say it. ???: “Alien lifeforms, no… But additional…” The man looks pointedly at Shalema, and then down at her stomach. Shalema looks confused for a moment, and then realization sparks. She stands, holding a hand to her abdomen, craning her neck to look at the bio report. Shalema: “I’m pregnant?”
???: “It appears so. But you're quite along. Six weeks, maybe seven. But we know from your records…”
Shalema: “Only for the mission. And not in a year. And I had an operation...” Shalema pales. The man nods, and then pinches the bridge of his nose. He glances up, and the camera spins to two armed security guards, standing at attention in the back. ???: “Junior Agent Shalema. You have been put on leave. You will report to the Doctor immediately.” Shalema stands up a little straighter. The Haze shows us her anger and fear, bouncing around inside like a red, screaming snarl -- but on the outside, she looks composed. She turns to the security guards, and leaves the room. Another cut. Some time has passed, but the Haze doesn’t tell us how much. Shalema is strapped onto a delivery bed, her face covered in sweat, howling in pain as she gives her all for one, last push. Then a moment of silence. Shalema rests her head back. A doctor, covered from head-to-toe in hazmat gear, works between her legs. Another moment. And then a scream. The healthy scream of a baby. The doctor lifts a tiny, yellow Lashunta from the table, swaddles it in a hospital blanket, and hands it to Shalema. She hesitates, looking at it with a mix of maternal love and scorn, and then escapes the child into her arms. The camera hovers over her shoulder. We see a tuft of blue hair. Smooth, yellow skin. And brown eyes, flecked with mercurial silver. Then the dream fades... But by the Beekeeper and the Dreamer, a trailing Dream, almost too fractured to process, is brought into the Haze. We see Tesin, perhaps four or five years old. Her azure hair is down to her knees, in a loose waterfall covered in pins and decorations. A large t-shirt covers her body, clearly from Shalema, who sits adjacent to Tesin on a comfortable-looking loveseat, one arm around her, another holding the remote to a TV. A children’s show is playing in the background. Tesin is transfixed with the plot of the show. Shalema is going along, giving her daughter subtle glances, openly revealing her gentle smiles. Such moments of bliss have been common these past few years. But they’re about to come to a close. The door to the living room opens. Shalema stiffens, her arm tightening around her daughter. The man from before, a member of Project 9’s board, walks in like he owns the place. He does, but he’s not welcome here. The TV shuts off, but Shalema never touches the remote. Tesin looks up, finally recognizing the intruder. She knows better to speak, but glares at the man over her mother’s arm. ???: “It’s time, Shalema. She’s of age.” Shalema’s expression is a kaleidoscope. Anger. Longing. Regret. Acceptance. Denial. Shalema: “Give me another year. They usually don’t start until they’re six.”
???: “They start when they’re selected, Agent. Her numbers are phenomenal. She’s in. It’s time.”
Shalema: “We’ve never had an Agent’s child join, it’s unconventional-”
???: “It’s an order, Agent. Let’s go. The Doctor is waiting.” Shalema tenses, and looks at her daughter. Tesin looks away from the man, the naive anger of a child falling into curiosity. She has no idea that she is scheduled to be wiped. That she will wake up tomorrow with no memories, and begin her training as a member of Project 9. That this is the last day she’ll remember her mother, or the life they had here. A tear falls down Shalema’s face. A hand rises to cup Tesin’s chin. Shalema: “I’ll do it myself.” The camera lifts over Shalema’s shoulder, putting the Board member back into view. He opens his mouth to object, but seems to consider something, and then nods. The camera spins to Tesin’s face instead. ???: “Very well. Proceed” Shalema’s hand tightens, holding her daughter still. The little girl looks back and forth between two of the three adults she’s ever known, her voice now building with fear. Tesin: “Mama?”
Shalema: “Sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” A psychic knife erupts from Shalema’s finger, and enters Tesin’s brain. The little girl jerks, immediately falling unconscious, her half-open lids revealing wild and terrified eyes. Shalema releases a deep sob, and erases Tesin’s memory. Or at least, this is what the Board member sees. The camera makes a slow spin to Shalema, the sounds of her crying continuing. We hear Tesin whimper, and then fall silent. Shalema wipes away a tear. A somber, clever smile splits her lips. A nova of hatred builds in her eyes. The Haze screams of revenge, and the dream fades.
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