The Quicksand Singularity ArQive: Array.init:0

A0T5.3 The Ëchüha Incident (Part 4)

"You've nothing to apologise for," Duchess Tví dismissed.

"Most of the Memarqs I was able to review were Katzali's personal notes," Fhá continued, "there were about four hours of them, including their attendant documents."

"Anything of note?"

"Besides assessments of the general state of the planet, only one thing stood out," Fhá answered. "Katzali suspected three different classifications of Apocalypse. He'd determined it was a Class A 23-13."

"By Édzulì," Duchess Tví gasped.

"His IIR had narrowed down the scenario to three suspect classes. Surface probe missions—that dataset I've yet to analyse—ruled out a 66-99, leaving a strong 66-12 with a weak 66-40."

"He sent a live team down, didn't he?" Tví asked, nervously.

"He did," Fhá confirmed. "A team of former special operators known under their call sign Dropkick Daemons. Their squad commander's Memarq was the only one recovered. Katzali sealed it in a classified Archive."

"The appropriate authorisations were sent to your desk," Duchess Tví said, expectantly.

"They were, and...well...what they show is..." Fhá started, before the words caught in her throat again. "Sod! It was..."

"They encountered something, didn't they?" Duchess Tví prodded.

"Yes," Fhá answered.

"An anomalous entity?" Duchess Tví pressed.

"Yes," Fhá answered.

"Extremely hostile?"

Fhá nodded.

"If you can, could you describe it to me?"

"Anthropomorphic," Fhá said, shakily, "emaciated, ghoulish. Its proportions were all wrong, everything was too big and too small in all the wrong ways. It had this horrible almost shrunken head-like look and its eyes were enormous and black and glassy. And it was all slimy, like coated in snail goo. Oh it was awful. Terrible. I...I can't. I'm sorry. I just..."

"You're fine," Duchess Tví consoled, "I know this is hard, but I need to ask a few more questions."

"Of course, m'lady," Fhá nodded.

"Did the creature possess a discernible sex?" Duchess Tví asked.

"I... I don't know," Fhá floundered, "it... it might've been female... I couldn't say. Its form was so distorted and wrong. It... it didn't really have... ugh! I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's okay," Duchess Tví consoled, "you've been through an ordeal. I can only imagine how hard this is."

"It's... I... I'm sorry," Fhá stumbled, racking her brains, "It... it was...androgynous, I think. It didn't have a... a..."

"Penis?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, m'lady," Fhá apologised.

"No, no," Duchess Tví dismissed, "there were no obvious remnants of one having previously been attached either?"

"No, not that I recall," Fhá answered, knowing better than to ask after the nature of this line of questioning. "Why is this important, exactly?"

"I promise that is the last of such...uncomfortable questions," Duchess Tví assured, "I believe I should have enough to pass along to the appropriate agencies."

"I'm sorry, m'lady," Fhá added, realising she might've committed a major faux pas. Questioning a High Noble's line of questioning? How dare she! "I shouldn't be so caught up in myself with your son..."

"My son," Duchess Tví interrupted, "deserves no pity, and certainly none of yours. Speaking plainly, and in confidence, his commission was an exile. For the actions that earned him it, the long arm of justice does not reach. Not in this Imperium. He is, or perhaps was, high nobility. I possess now, as I did centuries ago, only but lingering fondness for that worm, and only from having laboured for three days to bring him into this world, and to have cared for him as a mother ought. But even a mother's love has its limits, Fhá. This, his last and greatest achievement, has trespassed even that, and by so far a margin I dare say I plumb the depths of antipathy for it."

"Then, if m'lady does not mind my asking, why are you so keen to know the fate of His Highness?"

"It is not Ëchüha's fate that I am keen to know," Duchess Tví answered, "but the testimony of his last and greatest cruelty."

"I... think I understand," Fhá replied.

"Don't trouble yourself over it," Duchess Tví insisted, "I would be there myself, to sift through the aftermath, were it possible. Instead I must rely on you, and I am grateful, if nothing else, that this task found its way to the right hands."

"I'm honoured, m'lady," Fhá said, bowing her head.

"I've thought up another question," Duchess Tví refocused, closing her Jálüng Bàdzè. "The creature, did a name come to you? Something that felt right, but perhaps you couldn't explain?"

"Yes," Fhá answered, "a wraith. A wraith of wrath."

"Hmm..." Duchess Tví hummed, leaning back in her chair. Her brow creased as she pondered Fhá's answered. After a long period of silence, the Duchess spoke up again.

"Thank you for this. I'll reach out to some of my contacts. Until tomorrow, please, go home, take some rest."

"Yes, m'lady." Fhá replied.

"One more thing," Duchess Tví remembered, "what did you say the commander's name was?"

"I don't think I did, m'lady," Fhá answered, "it was Hvórþ."

"Clanname?" Duchess Tví requested.

"Null entry," Fhá said, "I'm sorry, m'lady."

"Don't be," Duchess Tví dismissed, "it's the Inquisition. I'd be more surprised if Katzali had included that information. Tell me about Hvang. Is he reliable? Or, dependable, I should say?"

"Come again?" Fhá reacted, taken by surprise.

"Your colleague in the neighbouring cubicle," Duchess Tví clarified, "Hvang, I believe is his name. He is dependable, yes?"

"When he's not asleep, m'lady," Fhá answered, blushing. The Duchess must have been aware of her breakdown in the bathroom. "I suppose."

"Good," Duchess Tví said, "that will be all. Until tomorrow."

"Yes, m'lady," Fhá farewelled as she felt herself being drawn out of the VirtuScape.

The Nerve Lance disengaged, jacking Fhá out of VR. She took the headset off and threw it onto her desk before leaning over, resting her head in her hands, elbows on the cheap, Tygea polymer. Rubbing her temples with her thumbs, Fhá let out a long groan. There wasn't enough Cloud-Forest wine and fine Fennos chocolate in the universe to get her through this in any semblance of okay. Princelings and their hedonistic excesses. Causing messes whole mobs of people had to clean up and pay for was seemingly the only thing they were good for. The insufferable, entitled, good-for-nothing fuck-ups! Even his own mother had no love for him! The things he must have done to accomplish that!

"Um..." the Knotworx spoke up, tapping Fhá on the shoulder.

"What do you want!?" she snapped. "Can't you see I'm having a moment!?"

"Uh..." the Knotworx reacted, stepping away from her, hands raised, "I'll... uh... I'll just..."

Groaning, Fhá grabbed her bag and pushed past the Knotworx, making for the elevators before anyone else could fuck up her day any more than it already had been.