‘That’s a damn lie,’ said Fitz, wiping the tears from his eyes, not caring if Compassion saw. ‘She’s not going to be all right, not going to be all right at all.’
‘You can’t fault my bedside manner, though, can you?’
Fitz swore wearily. ‘There’s a time for humour, Compassion. It isn’t now.’
‘Sorry.’
She actually sounded like she meant it, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that.
He knelt by Arielle’s side, holding her hand. It was cold and dry and it felt as brittle as burnt paper. The skin was almost transparent. She was lying, naked, on a giant spongy leaf Compassion had grown for her in her forest – her deep, secret place of nature and emotion. The leaf pulsed gently around Arielle, infusing painkillers through her skin into her body. That was all Compassion could do. Make it as painless as possible. Live up to her name in actions if not in actual emotion.
Because Arielle was dying.
Compassion had told him why. She had been possessed by spores of the Omnethoth, the thing that controlled the transmitter, the thing that had brought about the destruction of Yquatine. Their very essence had invaded her cells, making her one of them. They had made her build the transmitter, birthing it from her own cells, nurturing it. It sent signals to the dormant Omnethoth colonization clouds spread throughout the universe, activating them. They had worked to produce the invasion fleet, the thousands of black ships that the transmitter had teleported to Yquatine. Now the transmitter’s work was done, the Omnethoth spores had withdrawn from Arielle, taking their essence away and leaving behind a devastated body. Arielle was disintegrating before Fitz’s eyes.
He remembered what had happened on the St Julian. Arielle’s eyes completely black. Arielle in a coma. They had taken her then, these Omnethoth.
It could have been him. He railed against the unfairness of it all. Why couldn’t it have been him? At least he was used to being taken over by alien entities.
‘Arielle?’ whispered Fitz. ‘Can you hear me?’
She gave no sign that she could. Her eyes remained closed. Short, gasping breaths escaped from between her desiccated lips.
If he hadn’t come back in time one month, if he hadn’t worked in Il-Eruk’s, if he had never met Arielle, then she’d still be alive. And maybe the Omnethoth attack wouldn’t have happened. His head reeled as he tried to work it out, and he came to a shattering conclusion. His coming back in time had set in train the sequence of events leading to the end of Yquatine. He’d been so bloody careful, not warning anyone, going out of his way to avoid Lou Lombardo, but it had all been for nothing. He’d walked right into it, like a trap. Was it because he was tainted by Faction Paradox? Was this some intricate, temporal sick joke? Fitz couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all somehow his fault. That inbuilt Kreiner guilt again.
‘Arielle?’
She was hardly breathing now.
Fitz let go of her hand, turned away. He couldn’t stand this. ‘How much longer?’
Compassion’s impassive tones. ‘Not long.’
Fitz screwed himself up to say kill her, put her out of her misery, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let go of hope. ‘Isn’t there anything else you can do for her?’
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timeasmymeasure
For Kirei, cn watching a love one dying
Date: 2023-04-22 02:26 am (UTC)‘You can’t fault my bedside manner, though, can you?’
Fitz swore wearily. ‘There’s a time for humour, Compassion. It isn’t now.’
‘Sorry.’
She actually sounded like she meant it, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that.
He knelt by Arielle’s side, holding her hand. It was cold and dry and it felt as brittle as burnt paper. The skin was almost transparent. She was lying, naked, on a giant spongy leaf Compassion had grown for her in her forest – her deep, secret place of nature and emotion. The leaf pulsed gently around Arielle, infusing painkillers through her skin into her body. That was all Compassion could do. Make it as painless as possible. Live up to her name in actions if not in actual emotion.
Because Arielle was dying.
Compassion had told him why. She had been possessed by spores of the Omnethoth, the thing that controlled the transmitter, the thing that had brought about the destruction of Yquatine. Their very essence had invaded her cells, making her one of them. They had made her build the transmitter, birthing it from her own cells, nurturing it. It sent signals to the dormant Omnethoth colonization clouds spread throughout the universe, activating them. They had worked to produce the invasion fleet, the thousands of black ships that the transmitter had teleported to Yquatine. Now the transmitter’s work was done, the Omnethoth spores had withdrawn from Arielle, taking their essence away and leaving behind a devastated body. Arielle was disintegrating before Fitz’s eyes.
He remembered what had happened on the St Julian. Arielle’s eyes completely black. Arielle in a coma. They had taken her then, these Omnethoth.
It could have been him. He railed against the unfairness of it all. Why couldn’t it have been him? At least he was used to being taken over by alien entities.
‘Arielle?’ whispered Fitz. ‘Can you hear me?’
She gave no sign that she could. Her eyes remained closed. Short, gasping breaths escaped from between her desiccated lips.
If he hadn’t come back in time one month, if he hadn’t worked in Il-Eruk’s, if he had never met Arielle, then she’d still be alive. And maybe the Omnethoth attack wouldn’t have happened. His head reeled as he tried to work it out, and he came to a shattering conclusion. His coming back in time had set in train the sequence of events leading to the end of Yquatine. He’d been so bloody careful, not warning anyone, going out of his way to avoid Lou Lombardo, but it had all been for nothing. He’d walked right into it, like a trap. Was it because he was tainted by Faction Paradox? Was this some intricate, temporal sick joke? Fitz couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all somehow his fault. That inbuilt Kreiner guilt again.
‘Arielle?’
She was hardly breathing now.
Fitz let go of her hand, turned away. He couldn’t stand this. ‘How much longer?’
Compassion’s impassive tones. ‘Not long.’
Fitz screwed himself up to say kill her, put her out of her misery, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let go of hope. ‘Isn’t there anything else you can do for her?’