Little longer than normal, but it works.
---------
Questions
1. What kind of person is Lcorn Llorne? What does she look like (in your mind)?
2. What kind of person is the Deborah Ignigus? What does she look like (in your mind)?
3. Does the setting seem fitting? Would you like to know more?
4. Again, should I consider swapping the first section of this part with the last section of the previous part?
5. Is it too sappy or just about right?
“Mama!” Deborah began pounding away at the side of
the large cylinder. Inside was her
mother, or the creature that used to be her mother at least. The face was still very much that of Patricia
Igningus, but the body was decidedly not human.
The long tentacle like appendages that had replaced her arms and had
been added to her lower torso hung floated slightly in the tank due to the
pressure of moving water. Her legs had
been deformed into a pair of backwards bending legs that looked like those of a
frog. Aside from her hair and face, the
rest of the body was covered in smooth, green skin that L’lorne immediately
identified.
She grabbed
Deborah and held on to her tight as the girl began bawling into her
shoulder. It was so odd the empathy L’lorne
was feeling for the girl right now, the sight of her mother's current state was
probably the most terrible experience ever, so perhaps it made sense as L’lorne
remembered her own mother's death.
Casually, she traced the path of emotions and found the block in her
mind as the source. Whatever was on the
other side was related to this, and it was causing cracks to form. Her eye's panicked for a moment, and she
quickly threw up a few extra layers of protection.
“What did
they do to her?” Deborah bawled. “Mama, mama!”
L’lorne
checked the other cylinders, hoping she'd find a better answer than the one she
suspected. Each contained a different
person, their faces and heads all that remained of their once human
bodies. This wasn't what she had
expected, and now she was faced with the hardest task of all: Explaining it to Deborah. “Ritch 'arrd.”
“Oh no, is
he here too?” Deborah seemed to cry
extra tears for L’lorne as she looked up and tried to stare into the other
cylinders.
“No, they
all look like him.” The silence from
Deborah was the result of shock, so L’lorne let it sit there for a moment. “He isn't human, he never was.”
The shock
had worn off just enough for Deborah, through her red, tear filled eyes, to
speak. “Does that mean you're not. . .”
“No, I'm
human, through and through. He isn't,
wasn't when I met him, though he looked it back then.” How many times had he changed his form? She couldn't even remember, but he did it
nearly all the time. He liked to blend
in to his environment, and after hundreds of worlds, it was a surprise to see
the original form so well presented here.
The head was wrong, of course, but they must have wanted to maintain a
slightly human look, to prevent insanity probably.
“Why? Why would he do this? Why?”
That was the question, wasn't it?
“Well let's
find out.” She pushed Deborah away
slightly and began working her way toward the terminal on the far wall.
“Wait! We need to let her out.” Deborah pulled on L’lorne's shirt, trying to
halt her progress.
L’lorne
shook her head. “Something must be
wrong, otherwise they would be out and about.
Let's see what's going on first, then we'll let her out.” Deborah released the shirt in silent
agreement, rubbed her nose and eyes on her coat sleeve and followed.
The
terminal lit up as L’lorne decided to move toward it. The password protection was cracked before L’lorne
was within two steps, and the desired information was already on the screen
before she even touched the terminal's keyboard.
“Well?” Deborah sniffled before and after she spoke,
trying to hold herself together.
“It's some
kind of super-soldier program,” L’lorne said, paraphrasing the mountain of
documents. “Looks like they got the
genetic material from an unnamed source and had been using it along with an
accelerated mutation program to make people who were better swimmers and
such. He always was as much at home in
the water as on land,” L’lorne mused about his tendency to jump right into
rivers and lakes simply because it was in his nature.
Deborah was
less interested in such nonsense. “What
about letting her out? Or fixing her?”
L’lorne
waved her hand slightly over the keyboard, like flipping the page of a book
with the light breeze such an action produced.
The result was more pages of data and documents. “They messed up the first few attempts,
killing the subjects,” L’lorne paused at this and amended her statement for
Deborah's sake. “Killing the people in
the process. They got better, but there
are still problems. Insanity often
occurs, and,” she breathed in to create and artificial pause, this line wasn't
going to be pretty. “And often the sub.
. . person is unable to process air again as planned. Once out of the tank, they die of suffocation
within minutes.”
“Oh.” That was all Deborah said as she slumped down
to the floor, her legs no longer holding her up.
“They're
working on fixing the problem, but not much success as of yet. In the meantime they've got a mental
reconditioning program in place. They've
already got all the people in the tanks undergoing it except their most recent
addition.” The screen popped up a
picture of Deborah's mother, the last addition.
“She's due to start undergoing the treatment in the morning.”
“What does
that mean? What are they going to do to
her? What else can they do?” Fear, that was what sat in Deborah's eyes
now, and L’lorne felt sorry for her because the fear was completely justified
and terrible.
“It means
that by lunch time, she won't remember her own name, by this afternoon she
won't remember your name, and by tonight, she won't even remember being human
in the first place.” The scheduling was
oddly coincidental, and L’lorne traced the entire path of the data, looking to
compare it with past events. For a
moment she considered it was a set up by Ritch 'arrd, but all the others had
been done at a similar stage. Perhaps it
would have been more merciful if they had come the next day.
“We've got
to get her out of here,” was Deborah's reply. “Now!”
“She won't
survive outside of the tank. She'll die
if we take her out. And we can't take
the tank with us.”
A reality
Deborah hadn't expected was slowly starting to sink in, but it was obviously
not going to let it win if she could help it.
“There must be something we can do?
Maybe we could keep her head in water or something.”
L’lorne
looked at the floor and considered their options. The first one was to simply undo all the
modifications, but that would ruin all her plans. Before, the plan was to leave her mother
here, then once Ritch 'arrd was dealt with, let the system let her out,
probably within days once his support was removed. Now, however, that couldn't be done. There were things she could do, including
sabotaging the mental conditioning apparatus, but that could be repaired long
before they found Ritch 'arrd, and even then they weren't likely to let her
out. No, there was only one option, and
she could feel the pain that it would cause already. “There are only two options.”
Deborah's
hand came up, stopping L’lorne from continuing.
Her eyes, even behind the glasses as they were, were very red and filled
with tears, but she sniffed them back as best she could and spoke. “There's only one option.”
---------
As soon as
the cylinder opened, alarms went off.
They were loud only for a few moments, then they became muted. Water began pouring onto the floor, soaking
Deborah's shoes down to the skin, but she ignored it. Right behind the torrent of water, came her
mother's body, and she and L’lorne did their best to arrest her descent to the
floor.
She was
heavy, silky smooth, but not slimy as Deborah had expected. They laid her body against the side of the
cylinder and Deborah dropped to Patricia's side. “The entire building is going into lock
down,” L’lorne said as she looked towards the door. “I can stall them for a bit, but we still
won't have much time.”
Deborah
ignored L’lorne's warning. She already
knew there wouldn't be a lot of time, and she had no plans to waste any of
it. Her mother's hair was wet and flat
against her skull and face, so Deborah brushed it aside, causing a sudden bout
of coughing to erupt. “Mama?”
More
coughing, her limbs, all of them rumbled around as if lost for a moment, then
settled down. Her eyes opened, the same
eyes that Deborah remembered, and she looked at her. “Deborah.”
Her voice was hoarce and she gasped a couple of times before speaking
again. “Run, you have to run.”
“It's okay
mama, I'm here to rescue you.” Deborah
was already starting to tear up again, despite thinking she had finally run
dry. A deep breath with her eyes closed
and she pulled her mother toward her.
“We're going to get out of here.”
“No, you
have to go,” she gasped at her. “They'll
hurt you, you have to run.”
“It's
alright, it's alright,” Deborah said, trying to instill that same comfort she
could remember being given time and time again over the years.
“Go now
young lady,” Patrica suddenly did a giant gasp, coughed and then wheezed
out. “I can't breathe.”
“I
know.” It was starting. L’lorne had tried to prepare her, but Deborah
didn't want to believe it, even now she only partially believed. It wouldn't be long now. “Just hold me for a bit mama, and everything
will be alright.”
One of the
green limbs draped itself around Deborah, and they pulled tighter
together. “Deborah,” her voice was going
slowly, her eyes closing as if she were going to sleep.
“I love
you,” Deborah said, the tears now freely flowing, her face scrunching up in
pain.
Patricia
traced her daughter's face for a moment, and smiled as best she could between
the gasping, ineffective breaths. “I
love you too.” Her hand grew still, then
fell away, her body going completely limp.
Her eyes stared forward, locked in their last position even as the rest
of her relaxed away.
Deborah
grabbed her tightly, holding her, swaying slightly in the hopes that this
simple movement would undo what had happened, but there was nothing to be
done. Patricia Teresa Igningus was gone.
Gun fire
erupted from just on the other side of the door, pulling Deborah away from her
own pain for a moment. “What's going
on,” she asked between light sobs.
“My
diversion,” L’lorne said quietly. She
kneeled down next to Deborah and her mother and gently closed Patricia's eyes. “May the spirits guide and protect you,” she
said quietly. “We should go now. They'll be here soon.”
The gun
fire died down, then lit up again, with along roll of a heavy machine gun
firing. Deborah reluctantly leaned her
mother's body against the cylinder then got up.
“We can take the vent back. He
said the security seals wouldn't be active.”
L’lorne made no objection as Deborah made her way towards the
ventilation duct. Within a step of it,
however, a solid plate of metal dropped down over the top of it with a loud
clang. “He said all the doors would be
unlocked!”
“Looks like
this was added after his death,” L’lorne said without any serious concern. More gunfire sounded from behind the door,
then a sudden explosion shook the door.
“Time to go,” L’lorne said as she grabbed Deborah's hand.
Before
Deborah had a moment to question the plan, L’lorne placed her free hand against
the wall, and then through the wall without disturbing it in the least. The rest of her followed quickly, and Deborah
did as well, dragged out and through a solid wall as if it wasn't there at
all. She looked back towards the still
form of her mother just as the door burst open, flooding the room with light. And then, all of it was gone.
---------
Questions
1. What kind of person is Lcorn Llorne? What does she look like (in your mind)?
2. What kind of person is the Deborah Ignigus? What does she look like (in your mind)?
3. Does the setting seem fitting? Would you like to know more?
4. Again, should I consider swapping the first section of this part with the last section of the previous part?
5. Is it too sappy or just about right?
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