Chapter 64: Inter-Mission III - Father and Mother

-VERTEX ONE: 15.556984-

TSAB L-Class Inspection Cruiser Arthra

In Orbit of Io

Souichi Tomoe had no gods to pray to. Despite all the things he had seen and experienced, things which would drive softer men mad, the concept of almighty deities using their omnipotence to listen to one insignificant man on one insignificant planet in all creation was laughable to him. What others called "gods" were usually things they didn't understand. Absolutely there were higher beings out there with unfathomable powers that could be considered godlike, he couldn't dispute that... but he was a scientist. "Godlike" to him merely meant that it couldn't be understood yet. He didn't believe in gods.

He never used to believe in souls, either. Consciousness—human, humanoid, alien, or other—was contained within the brain or the closest equivalent organ, not in some glowing light or ethereal cloud. Only after the first time he held the tangible representation of a human's essence in his hands was he forced to accept evidence to the contrary: souls were very real. Not in the way human religions represented them, obviously, but they were real. Under the right conditions, they could even be taken, corrupted, or destroyed...

... or lost. He was quite familiar with the concept of lost souls by now.

When he asked the guards for one small request, they understood. After some time they came back with two candles, simple and straight and made of wax, like any one might find on Earth. They allowed him to keep them lit, the only decorations in his otherwise spartan cell. And in the hours since Hotaru left to join the battle once again, over and over he found himself staring at them and asking someone, anyone, for the souls those two tiny lights represented to find peace and happiness.

He was sure no one was listening, but still he asked.

In times past, he would have found the notion ridiculous. Even if he had been willing to entertain the concept of praying, he would have thought there was no need to pray for both of them. If you must do it, that version of himself would argue, pray for the daughter still alive, not the sad facsimile of one created to replace her. The other Hotaru was little more than a failed experiment. Nothing of hers was her own, not even her name... she was an artificial body with fabricated memories and a stolen soul. What time she had was laughably brief, her lifespan measured no more than fifteen minutes. And she was irrevocably gone, beyond even a fully-powered Silver Crystal's ability to save. In short, his past self would conclude, having any kind of lingering attachment to her was pointless. Why mourn her death when she was never even truly alive?

Yet still her candle remained lit. It seemed to him that the least he could do for someone who gave her life to save his was to pray for her, and to remember her.

Then there was Hotaru. How strange, to feel so conflicted when the sanest response to what she told him was abject horror.

He and his little girl, his treasure, had no sooner reunited and began the work to heal their relationship when the new threat appeared in Azabu-Juuban. It was a threat far worse than anything they had faced that night save Joker himself, she told him. To end it for good, she was prepared to use Messiah. Her AMP Device, she explained, was a weapon that would kill the unkillable and prevent it from ever returning... but only at the cost of a year of her life, a cost she was prepared to pay without hesitation.

To say that he didn't approve of this decision was an understatement, to put it mildly. To say that he was appalled that she had already used it once tonight...

But, Hotaru said, in the prior case and this upcoming one, it was for love. To protect the people she cared for with all her heart, there was no cost too great. And then she looked up at him, looked at him with violet eyes that bore no trace of fear or doubt or hesitation—eyes so much like her mother's that it made him ache with memory—and said this: "Papa, you of all people should understand what that means. And if you understand, you have to let me go."

Hotaru. In the five years since they had last seen each other, she had grown in far more than just the physical sense. Though the thought that he could lose her again terrified him beyond measure... he let her go. All he could do was keep her candle lit and ask the heavens above for her safe return, no matter how illogical that was.

So absorbed was he in watching the two little flames flicker and dance that he barely noticed when his cell's bars retracted into the floor and the guards stepped in. "Professor Tomoe?" said one of them. "It's time."

Quicker than he expected, to be honest. Tomoe ran a hand through his white hair and stood up. "Of course," he said. "If I may ask one other thing of you—"

"Of course," said the other guard before he could finish. "Don't worry. We'll send someone to make sure they don't go out."

Tomoe nodded. "Thank you. I believe that will be all. I'm ready."

*****

The makeshift judicial chamber's only illumination that Tomoe could see came from a cone of hazy light shining down from the ceiling, and the mint green glow of the spell circle turning on the floor. Though they were out of his sight, the rings of mana that bound his wrists behind his back were presumably the same color, since both the rings and circle were magical constructs of the same mage. Intriguing. Why did every mage have their own signature mana color, he wondered? What possible purpose could such a development have? Did the color denote some kind of speciality, an affinity for magic of a certain type?

Vertex Four and its inhabitants were worth extensive analysis. A society that normalized the use of magic in all aspects of everyday life... that alone was sure to be a fascinating area of study, should they allow him to explore it. Should they allow him to live. An outcome which, he reasoned, was very much in doubt.

Beyond the cone of light, the judge leaned forward to rest her elbows upon the bench, and her hands knit together to cover her mouth. "Let's begin," she said. "Step into the circle."

Tomoe nodded and complied. Faint tingling sensations washed over his skin as he crossed the circle's border. He stood tall and unafraid... to an outside observer, he might appear to be proud. The exact opposite was the case, but during the long walk to the chamber, he swore that he would conduct whatever trial awaited him with dignity. It was his fervent hope that Hotaru would remain where she was, that the trial would be over and done with by the time she returned. She didn't need to put herself through this for his sake.

"Souichi Tomoe of Vertex One," said the judge. Admiral Lindy Harlaown, he recalled from glances at Dead End's library data. Captain of the Arthra, the vessel that held him. Apparently the arbiter of his fate. "You stand accused of numerous crimes against interdimensional law, for which your local system of justice is not sufficient to charge you. You are to be tried for engaging in forbidden biological, technological, and genetic experimentation; kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment; and the aiding and abetting of mass murder, conspiracy, wide-scale interdimensional terrorism, and crimes against humanity. In the matter of the above crimes, how do you wish to plead?"

"Guilty," said Tomoe without pause. There was no sense in denying the truth.

If his admission surprised the admiral, she hid it flawlessly. Her voice and expression betrayed no emotion, only professionalism. "And am I to understand, based on your written request, that you wish to waive your right to appoint an advocate for your defense?"

"Yes," said Tomoe. "No advocate is necessary."

Lindy fell silent for a moment before continuing. "Professor, allow me to speak frankly. The TSAB's justice system isn't like the ones you have on Earth. We aim to correct criminal behavior if it's at all possible to do so, and capital punishment is to be used only if all other options are exhausted.

"Under normal circumstances, however, given the nature of your crimes, a guilty verdict would sentence you to life imprisonment without parole. You would be provided with food, water, adequate living space, and so on... but you would be isolated, all but cut off from face-to-face contact with other humans for the remainder of your lifespan. Do you understand?"

"Yes, and I do not deserve leniency," said Tomoe, plain and clear. "I am a monster. The things I've done cannot and should not be forgiven. I am ready to accept whatever punishment your Bureau deems appropriate."

Only then did a tiny amount of emotion leak through Lindy's demeanor. "For the record: the Labyrinth Commander known as Viluy was your creation, is that correct?"

Ah, of course. He was doomed. "Yes," he said.

"That woman..." said Lindy. There was a tremor in her voice, barely perceptible. "She resurrected the being that killed my husband and countless others. Through the abduction and manipulation of one of my best officers, she killed over a dozen members of my crew in her escape from this ship, and slaughtered hundreds of thousands more in the attack on Headquarters, including many of my closest friends and comrades. Her actions forced us to annihilate an inhabitable planet.

"With her own hands, Viluy tore out my daughter's eye. The pseudo-virus she created caused the death of my daughter's Familiar, her best friend and a beloved member of my family." It was no longer a tremor; to the untrained eye Lindy was calm as ever, but there was an undercurrent of barely suppressed fury in her words. "Were these normal circumstances and were I the kind to seek vengeance, Professor, I could hold you responsible for all of the blood on her hands, and everyone she made suffer."

Tomoe bowed his head and shut his eyes. Of course he knew. Not all the details, but he was aware enough. Dead End had allowed Viluy to explore her full potential for cruelty... and he let it happen, because all that was important to him was Hotaru. "I understand," he said softly. "You have every right to punish me for her actions. On Viluy's behalf, I will accept whatever judgment you mete out, with the hope that it will bring you some measure of solace."

A pause. "Professor, I'm not the one who should be presiding over this trial. To be brutally honest, I don't feel I'm capable of passing fair judgment upon you. By all rights, I should put you in the hands of a higher authority."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do." Her tone hardened into steel. "Because as far as I or any of my officers know, there is no one else after the massacre at Headquarters, Professor. I'm the highest authority left. Much as I need someone, anyone else to do this, there's no one to whom I can defer. So despite my personal connection to the case, I'm doing my damndest to be the most fair and impartial judge that I can be."

"Your—" Tomoe stopped and pondered. How best to address her? "Your Honor" was an Earth term, most likely not appropriate here. "Captain", then? "Admiral"? "You have my respect for your commitment to due justice," he said, forging ahead, "but I assure you, there is no need to worry over the ethical ramifications of this matter. I am guilty, I wish to be sentenced, and I will not object to whatever that sentence may be. All I ask is that this matter be concluded before my daughter returns. She's been hurt enough."

"On that we can agree." Lindy closed her eyes. "As for ethics... What I'm about to do would most likely be considered at very least grossly unethical under normal circumstances. If the Bureau is ever restored, I'll be court martialed at the least. But Professor, these are not normal circumstances. They may be the furthest thing from normal. If I must choose between proper enforcement of justice and the end of everything, I think the choice is clear."

This was it, then. Tomoe stood tall... There were no gods he believed in, no higher beings who would intervene on his behalf. There was only himself, facing judgment. He wondered if Hotaru would ever forgive them.

"Souichi Tomoe, I hearby grant you a stay of imprisonment and clemency for your crimes, on the sole condition that you work in service of the Morning Lights to the best of your ability. Your crimes are heinous, but I believe your remorse to be genuine... That, if nothing else, separates you from most of the monsters we've been fighting."

For a brief moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating. "Admiral?"

Rubbing the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, Lindy exhaled sharply. Her brow was creased with many lines. "The Lights are in desperate need of someone with extensive knowledge of humanoid biology, Professor. At least half a dozen of them have grievous nerve and tissue damage beyond my medical staff's ability to heal. I've read your file, your talents in your field are undeniable. Were I to imprison or execute you, I would be depriving the people who constitute the last, best hope for reality of an invaluable resource." With her free hand, she jabbed her index finger at him. "Make no mistake: this is not a pardon, and you will not be given free rein to do as you wish. Your work will be done in controlled shifts, and my officers will monitor you at all times. At the end of each shift, you will compile a full report detailing all that you've accomplished, and you will deliver this report directly to me. I reserve the right to immediately terminate any of your projects, should I see fit to do so. And furthermore, if I see, hear, or learn of anything you do on my ship that isn't above board, I reserve the right to revoke your clemency and punish you to the full extent of the law. This is your one and only chance to avoid prison, Professor. I strongly urge you to take it."

At a loss for words, Tomoe gaped at her and nodded. A faint emotion stirred inside him, something so foreign to him that he had all but forgotten precisely what it was.

The admiral rose to her feet and brushed off her uniform. "Very well. Don't make me regret this decision, Tomoe. My daughter and her fellow officers are known for showing compassion to their enemies, and I try like hell to do the same, but in times like these..." A pain that Tomoe found all too familiar saturated her voice. "The adults need to be willing to pull the trigger, so the children don't have to."

*****

Once back in her quarters, Lindy dropped into her chair and kneaded her brow. The door was securely locked and Amy had the bridge, so the ship was in capable hands. For a precious few minutes, the multiverse could manage without Admiral Harlaown, or so she hoped. Her hand moved automatically in the direction of her favorite kettle... She paused. No, she thought, this definitely called for something stronger. Her index finger traced a circle of mint green light in the air. Click, whoosh. A panel in the bulkhead behind her, one which was normally kept sealed tight, sank back into a recessed section and retracted upward. Inside the hidden compartment was a bottle made of transparent green glass, bearing a label that was little but a bold and stylized kanji on a plain white background, with a few red authenticity stamps rimming it. Hakkaisan Junmai Ginjo, a treasure from Nanoha's native Japan. Only for occasions when it was desperately needed. Tonight qualified.

With sake in hand, Lindy went fishing for her champagne flutes. When was the last time she opened this bottle? She couldn't even remember. It didn't matter. Of course she couldn't indulge herself too much; none of the crew would blame her and there were always sobering spells in sickbay, but it still wouldn't do to have anyone see the ship's captain plastered. Lindy had to be an example, a pillar of authority and moral something-or-other. Fortitude? That sounded right.

Chirrup. A holocomm window blinked open above her desk. Lindy's instinct was to swipe it away, but. Hadn't she told Amy that she wasn't to be disturbed? It took her tired brain a second or two to register the gently strobing red text: [PRIORITY EPSILON. Transmission encrypted under Protocol 4-7 Alpha Tango, Ytterbium Codex.]

Lindy's stomach did flips, and gently she set the bottle down. Assuming this wasn't some horrible new Dead End scheme, this message was from somewhere she never expected to hear from again. No wonder Amy hadn't warned her; a Priority Epsilon message would go straight to her personal terminal, and no one else on her crew was permitted to know of its existence. Her hand trembled slightly as she removed her glove and pressed it against the window to give authorization.

[Harlaown, Lindy, Admiral. Serial No. R86 53 91. CO, B.S.V. Arthra DNM-120649], said the screen. [Identity verified. Access granted. Standby.]

A message from Midchilda, at last. After months of being AWOL and with zero contact save with the officers in Uminari, the Bureau—whatever was left of it—had finally found them. It took her a moment to identify the face that appeared in the window, if only because it was so different from the one in her memories. "Regius...?" she said in a whisper of horrified fascination.

She recalled Lieutenant General Regius Gaiz as a powerful, stocky man, a wide face on a wide body, built like a side of meat. Always bearded, nearly always scowling, a perpetual thorn in the side of every Navy officer with his constant rants and accusations about his beloved Ground Forces being unfairly overshadowed and underbudgeted. As commander of the Capital Defense Corps, he and his officers were charged with defending Midchilda's capital city, Cranagan. It was a duty which he took so seriously that the common view across the whole of the Bureau was that he badly needed to relax once in a while.

The face in the window was lined, worn, and almost gaunt, the face of someone who had lost a large amount of weight in a short time. Heavy bags the color of bruises hung under his eyes. His beard was now sprinkled liberally with white, and its number of flyaway hairs would have sent the old Gaiz into a fit of rage. Most disturbing, it appeared that someone or something had gouged a hemispherical chunk about the size of an Earth baseball out of his right cheek, for the flesh was stiff and shiny where it caved in. The line of his mouth was not his famous scowl, it was a grimace of bone-deep exhaustion. "Admiral Harlaown," he said. "Are you sure this channel is secure?"

Lindy swiped a few more panels just to be certain, then nodded.

"Damn. I couldn't believe it when your ship's readings came up," Gaiz sighed through a burst of feedback. His image wavered. "I thought it had to be an enemy trap, or an illusion. A technical failure, even. I'd have never detected you at all had it not been for that massive spatial distortion exposing you... In orbit of the most radioactive place in the Sol system is a phenomenal place to hide, I'll give you that. But that's not where you've been all this time, is it?"

"General," she said, switching back to protocol out of habit. "I can assure you, I had no choice but to—"

"Admiral, quite frankly, I don't care about your reasons," said Gaiz. Now that sounded more like the man she remembered. "If we survive all this, they'll be able to write entire books listing the regulations you've broken. You and your crew disappeared just before NR Day... If the media hadn't been convinced you were all dead, they'd have called for your heads on a platter for deserting us."

"NR Day?" said Lindy.

Gaiz's face became shadowed with dark clouds. "Navy Remembrance Day. In the aftermath of the massacre, a proposal came up to declare it a day of mourning across all of the Bureau's territories. It passed less than a week later. No opposition."

Needles of guilt pierced Lindy's heart. "I'm sorry, General," she said, for lack of anything more appropriate. "If we had been able to assist—"

"Don't." There was a little of the old brusqueness. "There's no point in discussing hypotheticals, only the facts. You and your crew have been AWOL for months, for what I desperately hope is a damned good reason. With the Navy destroyed and all the top officers dead, the Bureau's other divisions are stretched to the breaking point trying to defend our territories. The Ground and Air Forces have managed to hold Midchilda thus far, but the long-term prospects aren't good, Admiral. Thousands of people volunteered to join the service after NR Day and they're advancing through the ranks as we speak. But the numbers aren't the problem, what's needed is leadership. The head of the Bureau is cut off... it doesn't matter how many officers we have if there's no one capable of inspiring them."

With a sinking feeling, she began to have some idea of what Gaiz wanted of her. "General, if you're asking me to lead the Bureau, I can't. You know I can't."

"It's not me asking." Black eyes bored into her like drills. "Once your signature was identified, my orders to contact you came from the highest levels."

"I don't understand," said Lindy, feeling a chill down her spine. "The Three Admirals were killed in the massacre—"

"They were," said Gaiz, grave as a winter's night. "What I'm about to tell you is known by less than ten people in all known space, and it's why I had to confirm that this channel was secure. The Three Admirals are—were—the public heads of the TSAB, but in the shadows behind them there's a higher authority still. Within minutes of my reading the Arthra's signature, one of them sent an encoded message to my private terminal. They're not just the ones truly running the Bureau, Admiral, they're the ones that founded it. I don't know how that's possible, I don't even know their names or if they have any to begin with... but they knew things. Things I've never told anyone, things that would turn your hair white.

"It's them that asked for you, Admiral. Whatever it is you've been doing, whatever laws you've broken, they're willing to set all that aside... because if the Bureau is going to continue to exist, we need someone to rally around. A symbol, a reason to keep hoping. You don't need to abandon your war, so long as you appear back on Midchilda and let the worlds see you're still alive and still fighting." A dark, lopsided smirk. "You must admit, your return from the dead would be a hell of a morale booster."

Lindy leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. Becoming a symbol? She was just a woman trying to do her job, it was Nanoha and the others who were the symbols. She understood the logic behind their request, whoever they were, but... She grimaced. All those warnings from Fantine about how the Lighthouse's location had to remain secret at any cost... At first they seemed excessive to the point of hysteria, but then she saw firsthand evidence of how dangerous Dead End was. The more people who knew that she, her crew, and the Arthra were still out there, the more chance there was that they could be traced back to their sanctuary. Going back to Midchilda was an insane risk. But what about fighting Dead End wasn't, really?

She didn't know how long she sat there hemming it over. "I'm sorry, Regius," she said at last. "I really am. I can't make this decision right now, it's just too big."

The deepest sigh yet came from the comm window. "If I were in your position, I doubt I could answer right away either. I understand."

That didn't sound like any version of Regius Gaiz she had ever known. "General...?" she said with considerable concern.

"Whatever you decide, Lindy... don't you dare give up. Ever." His voice dropped low as he leaned close to his screen, and there was a wounded air to him, a show of weakness that would have appalled the old Gaiz. "When I wouldn't surrender the capital, those animals from Dead End came after Auris. It took the Special Rescue Unit three days to find her and bring her back. The medics gave her a full diagnostic and couldn't find anything wrong with her, she seemed perfectly normal. A week later, she walked into my office just like she does every morning, and..." The light caught the scarred and sunken half of his face, and Lindy saw his eyes flash with one of the deadliest emotions known to humankind: the unbridled wrath of a father on behalf of his child. "Make sure you keep fighting, and make sure you crush those sons of bitches, because I've buried enough people."

Upon seeing that flash, her brain fed her horrible images: first Chrono, then Fate turning their Devices on her with glassy-eyed stares. It was a special kind of monstrous act to turn a child against their parent, and if Gaiz's wound implied what Lindy thought it did... All her insides seized tight. "Regius, I—" she murmured. "I'm so sorry." Woefully inadequate.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but sentiment only goes so far." There was infinite darkness in his voice. "I've said my piece. When you make your decision, you know how to contact me. Gaiz out." The window switched off.

Alone once more, Lindy sat in the dark, the sake bottle in her hand forgotten about. She was so used to thinking of Regius Gaiz as a nuisance at best, when she bothered to think about him at all. Now here he was, imparting secrets she never imagined. Asking for help. Bearing wounds both physical and emotional.

She used to believe that Gaiz was far too thick-headed to deviate from his chosen path. Now she was confronted with evidence that he had changed, though the circumstances of that change were too horrible for words. If she was in his place, if it had been Fate or Chrono... she doubted she would act any differently. Lindy shuddered.

Children, she thought. For good or ill, children had a way of inspiring their parents to do things that would never be contemplated otherwise. In that regard, she, Gaiz, and Professor Tomoe were alike. Tomoe was willing to perform unspeakable acts for the sake of his daughter's safety, to deprive her of her freedom of choice and her very humanity if it would make her happy. When she first read the details of what he had done, she was disgusted with him.

But now, in some small way... she understood him, and that upset her in ways she couldn't quite define. "Damn," she muttered to the empty room with a rueful smile.

END OF CHAPTER 64

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I AM FOUND