"Kaede, I need to talk to you."
Kaede looked up from her work. "Damn, you look like shit."
"I know," Nigs said, impatiently. "I need to talk to you."
"Then talk."
She pushed her chair back from her desk and leant away, folding her hands into her lap and raising her eyebrows, waiting. Nigs hovered in front of her, feet shuffling, not really knowing what it was he wanted to ask or how to phrase it.
"I had a dream," he announced.
"Was it a nightmare?" Kaede asked. "Because I'm not your mummy and I'm not going to comfort you every time you have bad dreams."
"It's not that," Nigs kicked his feet on the floor like a small tap dance. "It's just...there was a girl in it. I...uh....did I know any girls?"
Kaede gave him a long, blank stare. "This place is full of girls. Well, half-full of them. What do you think I am?"
"She was crying," Nigs pressed. "She...I...she seemed to think I'd done something. And then you turned up saying I had to do something about it and look after her and..."
"Nigs, Nigs," Kaede pressed her palms to her temples. "Shut up a minute. Are you really interrupting me just to ask me to interpret your dreams?"
Nigs flopped down into a chair and buried his head in his hands.
"It felt so real! And everything was blurring. Everything I remember about that life and everything that seemed real about this life and...if everything was real and the crying girl wasn't, what the hell was she doing there, Kaede? I just....no, this is stupid. You're right. It's stupid. I'm sorry for disturbing you." He stood up and ran a hand through his hair ruefully. "I'll go now."
"You dealt with quite a few crying girls in your time," Kaede said, just as he reached the door. "What did she look like?"
Nigs turned back. "What do you mean, I dealt with a few?"
Kaede's face betrayed nothing. "What did she look like?"
Nigs shrugged. "Small. Kind of round. Not fat exactly, just...plush, I guess. Dark hair. Why? You think she was real after all?"
"Her name's Beatrice Archer," Kaede stacked her papers neatly and tucked them under a folder. "She cried a lot just before you went to sleep."
Nigs stared at her. "So she was real? You just said..."
"You didn't give me the context before," Kaede's face was serious. "Yeah, you made her cry. You were good at making girls cry. Are you done now? I have work to do."
Nigs's mouth opened and closed and he realised his knees were trembling. He couldn't read the expression on Kaede's face. He never could, but this was different. This wasn't enigmatic, this was boarded up and closed.
"Why did I make people cry?" Nigs asked, bewildered. "I mean...what did I do? And why was I supposed to take care of it?"
"This isn't a conversation I want to have."
"I'm your superior," Nigs said, abruptly. "I insist that you tell me!"
Kaede's look nearly made him melt into his boots but eventually she sighed and spoke.
"The girls in your regiment were easily instructed."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nigs demanded.
Kaede raised an eyebrow. "What do you think it means? Use your imagination."
Nigs paled. "You mean...I...but why? I mean, I was fifteen!"
"I know," Kaede slammed her papers into her folder. "I was there."
Nigs shuddered. "But...I...I'm not like that now. I mean, I'd never...did I really?"
"Yes," Kaede snapped. "You did. And guess what, Nigel? We never told. We never told anybody. It was a secret inside our regiment, for the people under your command. Not even John ever knew. We kept you safe, and we did everything you asked."
Nigs couldn't seem to close his mouth. "I...I..."
"Stop stammering," she glared at him. "I get it. You're different now. New life, new you. Whatever. It doesn't matter. But that's why Beatrice Archer was crying in your dream. She was one of yours."
Something stirred in Nigs's memory, something about his first meeting with Kaede.
"I used to be one of yours."
He swallowed hard. "Did I...did you...I mean...um...."
"Yes."
"Oh," Nigs's cheeks flamed red. He felt sick with himself. "I'm...I'm sorry."
"Whatever," Kaede stepped past him, out of the room. "It doesn't matter now. Nothing does."
The door slammed closed behind him. Nigs stared at the desk, trembling, skin crawling, revolted with himself and wishing more than ever that this life was the nightmare.
Carmen lounged on a chair, watching the people in the room. Lounging was her most natural position. She didn't like to use unnecessary effort for little things like posture.
"What are you looking for?" Ashley asked, nervously.
"Interaction," Carmen narrowed her eyes. "Who is talking? Who is listening? That kind of thing."
At her other shoulder, Alexei nodded in agreement. The room was filled with the people Carmen once worked amongst, and occasionally controlled. They were moving around in small groups, talking in quick, urgent voices too low to be deciphered. There were more of them than Carmen had been expecting.
"Who's that boy?" she asked, abruptly, pointing out a figure in the crowd.
"Him? That's Samuel," Ashley made a little noise in the back of her throat. "He's not very nice."
"I can tell," Carmen murmured. "No, I don't like the look of him at all. But him over there...I could work with him."
"With Tae?" Alexei looked doubtful. "He's smart enough, that's for sure, but he's not very cooperative."
"He can learn," Carmen swung her feet to the ground and clapped her hands sharply. "Hey! Listen up!"
After a few seconds of muted talking, the intellectuals of Subterra fell silent. They were watching Carmen with faces that betrayed their thoughts, flashing little numerical values, annotating her, filling in the blanks.
"I'm back," Carmen announced. "And I'm in charge. Isn't that nice?"
Nobody said anything.
"Now, there's going to be a few changes around here," she continued. "I think you realised that yesterday when you were called to training with everyone else."
"We don't fight," someone called. "We think. Someone has to!"
"Round here, I should hope it was possible to do both," Carmen replied, smoothly. "What's the point in fighting if you can't use your brain, and what's the point in thinking if you can't defend yourself?"
"The army defends us," the boy named Samuel told her. "That's their job."
Carmen studied his face. "You think you're better than them?"
"Yes."
"Then we have a problem."
Samuel stared defiantly back at her, a big, blonde boy who she would never have taken to be a brains-over-brawn character had she seen him elsewhere. It seemed wrong to call him a boy, as well. He was most decidedly a young man, with that jawline and the width to his shoulders.
"Here's how it's going to work," Carmen declared. "For the time being, you're all going to go next door and mill about and complain amongst yourselves, unless I point you out now. If I point you out, you stay here with me. Got that?"
"Obviously," Samuel crossed his arms across his chest. "What are you going to do?"
"Wait and see," Carmen pointed into the crowd. "You there. Tae, isn't it? You're staying."
The dark-haired boy said nothing, merely narrowed his already-thin eyes in her direction.
"And you," Carmen indicated another. "You, you and...you. You too."
"What about me?" Samuel demanded.
"Yeah, you can stay as well," Carmen calculated quickly. "Everyone I've pointed at, stay. The rest of you, get lost. But don't go far."
With much grumbling and complaining, they filed out of the room and Carmen was left looking at the seven she had selected. They regarded her with various expressions masking their true thoughts. Something stirred in her mind as if she knew them, but maybe she was wrong.
"Why do they get to stay?" Samuel objected, pointing at Ashley and Alexei. "You didn't point to them!"
"You want to challenge her?" Alexei stood up straight. "You want to challenge her authority, Samuel? You want to challenge mine?"
Samuel hesitated. "No. I'm not arguing with you, Alexei. But that Ashley girl is nowhere near high-ranking yet."
"There's going to be a few changes to the system," Carmen's eyes sparkled. "The rankings may get shaken up a little."
Samuel took a step backwards. "You can't do that!"
"Believe me, I can," she grinned, enjoying herself thoroughly. "You're Tae, right?"
This was addressed to the only other person whose name she knew, who inclined his head once.
"Are you important round here, Tae?"
He gave her a withering look. "As important as I want to be."
"No," Alexei translated.
"You're going to be," Carmen decided. "Do you think you can work with me? Am I a worthy commander for you, Tae?"
He regarded her for a moment before nodding once. Carmen beamed at him.
"Go stand over there."
He did as he was told, slouching over to the other side of the room and half-sitting half-leaning on a table.
"And who are you?"
It turned out that she had invited over Susannah, Julie, Sanjit and Hubert. They all, with little persuasion, agreed to accept Carmen's new way of running things. They seemed easy-going but Carmen got the feeling they were withholding judgement until a later date.
"And you," she rounded on the final person. "What's your name?"
"Robin," the boy said, clearly. "And I think this is ridiculous."
"Nice to have your opinion," Carmen nodded her agreement. "It is. Will you join me anyway?"
"Gladly."
Carmen looked proudly at her six new allies and then turned her gaze back on Samuel, who had been shifting impatiently the entire time.
"And you?" she quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to become one of mine?"
Samuel stared at her. "Excuse me?"
"These are my new lieutenants. Do you have lieutenants here?"
"Yes," Ashley supplied, "and that's what they are."
"Join me," Carmen invited. "Become one of my higher-than-otherwise command. You clearly have influence. Your word would be welcomed."
Samuel shook his head. "Carissa would never have got so up herself. You can't do this. You can't just promote people meaninglessly."
"It's not meaningless," Carmen held his gaze. "I'm just not telling you the reasons."
"No," Samuel raised his hands. "Absolutely not. It's out of the question."
"Then go," Carmen pointed to the door. "Join the others. We'll be out in a minute."
Samuel left, the door closing behind him with a bang. Carmen's heart gave a little skip of joy as she turned back to her chosen few.
"Now," she smiled, "let's have a chat."
A similar event had been taking place in Miriam's world, though not quite on the same scale. She had finally managed to brave again the looks of her once-friends and they all sat around her now, trying to explain how things had been.
"You weren't a commander," Quinten gestured. "You were an icon. You were a symbol of what artillery soldiers are supposed to be."
Miriam chewed on her lip. "And what are they supposed to be?"
"Strong, brave," Quinten considered, "quick on their feet, fast-thinking, daring, risk-taking...you name it. You were the best. And us here...we weren't your officers or anything. We were your friends."
Miriam studied the faces. "I think I recognise some of you. But...maybe I don't. Maybe I just want to."
"Do you recognise me?" Quinten asked, excitably.
"Possibly," Miriam paused. "I...maybe. Just maybe."
He looked so crestfallen that she laughed. He flashed her a quick grin and began to launch into another speech, waving his arms around wildly.
"But, you see, you were everyone's favourite and that's why you went away and that's why we were so disappointed when you came back boring and emotional. I mean, you were always a bit emotional but not like that and we were all scared we'd lost you."
Miriam tried not to be offended. "I just...this isn't what I remember being."
"But it's what you were," Quinten said, earnestly. "It's what you were and you were good at it. We've missed you."
There were murmurs of agreement and Miriam's face felt warm.
"Well, I'm a commander now," she took a deep breath. "So you're my officers. That's right, isn't it?"
"It's allowed," Quinten hesitated. "I think. But...normally...people earn promotion. You know?"
"Times are changing," Miriam said, briskly. "Tell me everything about the artillery soldiers."
They began to talk, interrupting one another and heading off on wild tangents and telling long anecdotes, laughing all the while. They weren't good at explaining but they were reassuring to listen to. They were the least serious people Miriam had met in this place and she was reminded a little of her childhood, of life before everything exploded.
"So that's it," Quinten rounded off. "I think. Oh, did you tell her about..."
"Enough!" Miriam threw her hands in the air, laughing. "I'll never remember all of this!"
"We'll help you," a girl said, firmly. "Of course we will. We've got your back. We'll help you do this, whatever it is."
"Thank you," Miriam breathed out in a rush. "Thank you."
"It's no biggie," Quinten shrugged. "We're your friends, Miriam. Even now."
When they left for lunch, Miriam stayed till the end, dazed by the busyness of her morning. There was so much to relearn but, just occasionally, a story they had told sparked something inside of her and she found herself nodding along or laughing automatically at an inside joke. She was slipping back into this life again, and she wasn't sure if that was good or not.
"Marcia?"
She turned round, surprised. "Yes? It's Miriam, by the way."
"Miriam, sorry," the boy looked up at her. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course," Miriam sat down again. "What's your name?"
"Puck. Puck Arrigucci."
Miriam's face lit up. "Puck? Really? Like the fairy?"
The boy nodded tiredly. "Yes, like the fairy."
He looked quite puckish too, with a tightly-curled hair and a frame so small and slender that Miriam was having trouble judging how old he was. He hadn't stood up once in the time they were there and Miriam had had much opportunity to admire his chair, one crafted with great silver wheels. He kept a blanket tucked over his lap. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well.
"What is it?" she asked. "Are you alright?"
Puck was looking slightly to the left of her face.
"Yes, I'm fine," he answered. "But I need to talk to John. It's urgently important."
"Why?" Miriam questioned, disconcerted by his lack of eye contact. "What's it about?"
He shifted his head slightly as if trying to get a better look at her and Miriam felt herself blush as she realised what should have been obvious from the start: the boy was blind. His eyes were grey and filmy and matted around the edge with scar tissue.
"Oh, your eyes!" she burst out. "What happened?"
She cursed herself for her tactlessness but Puck seemed unperturbed. Maybe he'd been asked a lot before, or maybe it simply didn't bother him.
"Oh, that happened barely a week after you left," he said, mildly. "We were carrying out an experiment into something new. You'd been working on it with me and Quinten before you left but once you'd gone, it was just the two of us. It went wrong, as you can see."
"Quinten looks unharmed," Miriam said, uncertainly.
"He is," Puck's voice tightened slightly. "Thanks to me."
"Oh. Oh!" Miriam swallowed hard. "Gods, I'm sorry! I didn't mean...I..."
"It's fine," Puck waved a hand. "You never were very tactful. I took the worst of the blast for Quinten's sake. Lost my legs and my sight."
"Lost your legs?" Miriam gasped.
Puck pushed his blanket aside to show where his legs ended at the knee and his trousers were sewn up around the stumps of his thighs.
"What did you think I was in this chair for?" he said, irritably. "I'm just lazy?"
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know," he sighed. "Stop apologising. I can't get used to you apologising all the time. God, if you'd stopped to apologise every time you insulted me or trod on my foot, we'd never have had time to be friends."
Miriam's cheeks were red with embarrassment. "I just...I didn't mean..."
"It's fine," Puck repeated. "It's better, actually, that you don't remember me from before. It would have been harder to deal with then. Anyway, the sob story over, can we return to my point? I need to talk to John."
"What about?" Miriam insisted. "I'm allowed to know."
Puck grinned and Miriam saw his chipped front tooth. "Now that sounds more like the Marcia I knew. He asked me to tell him once he woke up, and you're going to have to make sure he listens. It's about the Nevera papers."