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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 78

Okay, I checked. This is actually chapter 78 :)

Thank you, again, to @zommbiebro for the name of the colony. This will be way more important than people realize.

As runners-up, @baelpenrose and @iguessthisisme, thank you for the names of Else’s new habitats. While the reason isn’t given (you are free to mention them in the comments), they did rank as the runners-up.

I made an appointment with Miys to continue our talk about other species next week and sent messages requesting a small meeting in my office. When I arrived, Alistair already had everyone seated and was handing out drinks. Dropping into a chair, I grabbed the one Tyche passed me and took a deep sip, narrowly avoiding a sputter when I realized my coffee had at least one shot of whiskey in it. “Geez and fuck, Worthington, what are you trying to do to me?”

Taking the cup from me, he inhaled deeply before apologizing. “It was meant to be coffee with Irish crème, not Irish coffee.”

“Whatever, give it back.” Pinching the bridge of my nose to avoid the looks I was inevitably getting, I made a blind grabbing gesture with the other. “By the time this conversation is over, I may need this to be sans coffee.” I inhaled deeply before looking up. “We have a problem on the Ark.”

“That’s nothing new,” Tyche pointed out. Beside her, Antoine gave a regretful look of agreement along with an eloquent shrug.

Groaning, I arched an eyebrow at Arthur Farro, who sat across from Tyche, on my other side. “You see how often this kind of shit happens?” With that, I launched into what happened in the corridor with Miys, specifically the crowd of people plowing into us. When I finished, I held up a hand to stop the outpour of questions from Farro and focused on Antoine. “Can the update to receive proximity alarms be disabled?”

“In theory, yes,” he answered hesitantly. “But I’m uncertain if the entire implant would have to be disabled in order to do so.”

“Our hosts should be able to tell us if the implants can be turned off,” Alistair pointed out.

“Mmmmm… you would think so. But I asked, and apparently they didn’t even think we would be able to understand any of their technology, much less futz around with it on the scale needed to create the proximity alerts in the first place,” I explained.

Tyche nodded firmly. “That means we use our secret weapons.”

“Derek?” The question came from our resident former-warlord, who was still not used to our shorthand.

“And Zach to run herd on him,” I confirmed. “If we can determine whether it’s just the update or the entire implant that’s disabled, Derek can turn the right thing back on and lock user privileges down so they can’t be messed with again.”

Raising one hand for attention, Antoine ventured a point. “Are we - is the Council - okay with the ethics behind forcing people to use the translation implants?”

My head dropped heavily onto the tabletop. I hadn’t even thought about that, but he had a point.

“We can argue ethics later,” Tyche interjected. “First, we have Zach and Derek determine what part of it isn’t working. If it’s the update, there isn’t anything to worry about, since the Council already agreed that it was in the best interest of the ship as a whole to make the receiver software compulsory.”

Thank you, little sister. When I lifted my head after a silent prayer, I saw Farro giving Tyche an evaluating glance before turning to me. “So. Were these the same people you two mentioned at the dinner?”

“I think so.” Opening my datapad, I pulled up the questions he sent me. “So, on that note, since that’s why you’re here…. ‘How large are the groups?’ I would say three to seven people.” I tipped my hand back and forth in a vague gesture.

Tyche nodded. “I tend to watch my data pad as I walk but the groups aren’t too big. Five-ish? Sometimes more sometimes less? Not suspiciously big though, that I can say for sure.” She opened her own copy and tackled the next question. “Any frequent meetings...The clusters seem to be everywhere, but it's the whispering and watching that make me uncomfortable. I'm face-blind, though, so I couldn't tell you if these are the same groups.

“To be honest, meetings happen all the time on the Ark. Granted, there are generally fewer after the misunderstanding with Else - “ Alistair scoffed so hard I was worried for his sinuses, but I ignored him and plowed on. “but I would definitely say nothing overt enough to stand out.”

Before I could reference the next question, Farro pre-empted me. “Have you noticed people from these smaller groups interacting with each other? Or groups combining, mixing?”

I had to roll my eyes that one. “Dude. It’s literally my job to get people to interact, so the only answer you’re getting to that one is ‘all the damned time’.”

He turned to Tyche, eyes hopeful. She just gave him a smirk. “What do you get when you mix an elephant and a rhino?” When he looked perplexed at her non sequitur, she leaned forward. “Ellephino. Faceblind, remember?”

Scowling, he shook his head. “You handle staffing… how the hell do you do your job?”

"I do it damned well, if I do say so myself," she waved off his complaint. "Which I do. Voices, body language, key accessories... Been doing it my whole life."

“Fair,” he shrugged, seemingly satisfied. “Sophia, have you noticed if it’s always the same people who are clustered up?”

I couldn’t stop the groan that question elicited. “Arthur. There are over nine thousand people on this ship. It would be nearly impossible to be sure.”

He grumbled something about ‘no self preservation’ and ‘what happened to proper paranoia’ before asking the last question. “Please tell me someone at least noticed if they got noticeably quieter when any outsiders came near them?”

My sister and I exchanged glances before I responded. “Eyeah. Kind of why they stand out.”

How did Farro avoid getting dizzy when he rolled his eyes that hard?

Antoine cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. Leaning forward in his seat, he ran a tired hand through his hair. “Tyche mentioned these groups to me a few days ago. I’ve been keeping an eye out and while they aren’t the same groups, there are the same people with new groups, sometimes two at a time in the larger gatherings. Much like a very hushed spreading of word about….something. I have no idea what of course. I’m usually on my way to either medical or a client.”

“Wait,” I held my hand up for a moment. “Same people with new groups? What do you mean? Like, intermingling groups of these people?”

“Think of a social butterfly, but more secretive. There are some I recognize from other groups, but surrounded by different faces. Mingling but spookier.”

Tyche nearly choked on her drink. “You’ve been around me too much. ‘Mingling but spookier.’”

“At least someone noticed something useful,” Farro grumbled.

“Hey!” I complained. “I get that you’ve got a theory, but you don’t have to be rude.” I scowled at him.

Okay, maybe I pouted.

After a moment of deadlock, I took a drink of my coffee and arched a brow at him. “You know. If you told us what exactly your theory was, this would go a lot better. I get that you’re used to working on your own, but you’re asking questions that are leaning into things we aren’t going to notice. It’s like… asking a vet if they’ve noticed any fleas lately. Even if they don’t just ignore them outright, it’s nothing remarkable.”

“A cult,” he admitted, sitting back and taking a drink of his tea, only to glare at it like it betrayed him. Getting up, he went to dispose of it and asked the console for a hot, fresh cup. “People suddenly acting weird, closing off others unless they make the first move? Cult, all day long.”

“That’s pretty overt for a cult though. Most of the time, it’s hard to tell when someone is part of one. They were surprisingly common back Before,” Tyche immediately interjected, having suddenly gone eerily serious. “I’ve known former members. They creep in.”

“Not that overt,” he pointed out. “Scientology.”

“A fake religious movement, that if not for a certain celebrity wouldn’t have gotten so much attention.”

“Oh, completely fake. Not even the founder believed the bullshit he was slinging,” Farro agreed. “But, it was also a very overt, definitive cult.” He started counting on his fingers. “There’s also Jonestown and the Manson family, as far as cults that withdrew from society, although the somewhat limited space of the Ark makes it easier to just get quiet instead of trying to isolate.…” he trailed off before seeming to snap out of his thoughts.

Tyche groaned at the point. “And the non-religious ones, such as multi-level marketing and pyramid schemes.”

“Of which there were several in the latter half of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries,” I pointed out. “Very famous and popular ones, actually. So. Being overt doesn’t mean this couldn’t be a cult.” My stomach twisted at the idea of something like that forming in the midst of our chance to be everything good we had the potential for. It felt like someone doused the Mona Lisa with acetone.

“To be fair, it could also be a more harmless, mysticism based situation like the legionary sect of Mithras in ancient Rome, so we don’t necessarily need to assume the worst - just plan for it, in case.”

“If we concede that this could be a cult,” Alistair volunteered, “I feel it would be wise to discuss the matter with Councillor Hodenson.” Deafening silence followed his statement, broken only when he squinted at our group in confusion. “Grey Hodenson? The Councillor for Research and Sciences? Who was raised in a cult?” Another emphatic squint before he sighed and threw his hands up. “Unbelievable. For a group of supposed geniuses, you all show a breathtaking capacity to overthink things.”

“I believe we should also include Councilor Kalloe,” Antoine advised. “As the Councillor for Health and Safety, it is imperative that she is kept abreast of the situation, even if it is unfounded.”

“It would also give us a stronger likelihood of a majority in the Council if it came to a vote,” Tyche confessed. “We’d already have three out of six, would just have to convince one more.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I groaned. “But yeah, subject tabelled for now, until we can reconvene.” I forced myself to sit up straighter. “Now, enough bad news. Tyche, Antoine, someone, give me some good news.”

Antoine spoke first. “The portion of Else that is not in coldsleep is adapting well to its new habitats. It is quite pleased with the compromise, and reports excitement at the opportunity to speak to more humans.”

My eyebrow arched before I could stop myself. “Do I even want to know why that is in your purview?”

“Therapy is therapy,” he shrugged eloquently. “Adjusting to new environments is stressful for all living creatures, even those not known to be sentient.”

Alistair added, “Additionally, a nebula has been located that is determined to be sufficiently large and ferrous enough for Else to colonize. They have determined to name the nebula Esperia, to symbolize their origins with humanity and their hope for the future. When we locate a similarly suitable planet or planetoid, they have decided upon Redemption, or the equivalent in whatever language they have evolved by that point.”

“Wait,” Farro stopped my assistant. “You mean to tell me that a bacteria decided on a name for two colonies before we could decide on one?”

“Only by a breath,” I smirked, opening an alert on my datapad. “Apparently the name for our new home was just approved by the Council. Good news indeed.”

Several seconds of silence followed as everyone stared at me intently, with Tyche and Alistair pointedly ignoring the similar updates they had just received. Finally, my sister broke. “Are you going to share, oh mighty Councillor, or does everyone have to wait for me to leave and spill the details?”

Laughing, I gestured my concession. “The name that was agreed upon, by a five to one majority within the Council, is Von. ‘In Norse religion, Ragnarok is the end of the world, followed by a period of rebirth and renewed hope. Our world has already ended, this we agree upon to point that we have all simply named the chain of events Before, The End, and After. The new colony will be our renewed hope, our opportunity to be reborn as a better people. In that spirit, I put forth the name Von, which simply means hope or expectation in Icelandic. Nothing could be more fitting for our new home, after our own Ragnarok’.”

Heads nodded in agreement. “That’s a good name,” Alistair admitted. “Not my suggestion, but still good.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #sci fi #original writing #apocalypse #aliens #humans are space orcs #original fiction

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