Trinity RPG - Tales from Eden: A Brave New World

[z-Carver]

Deep Space, 2132

The old man tottered along the hallway, his super-light walker assisting him as needed. It had been many years since he had moved unassisted, but he didn’t complain. He had been born in a time when people were excited to reach a hundred; he was grateful for his one hundred and thirty-five years of life. He had watched his father die of a heart attack at age sixty. There was no way he’d complain about living more than twice as long as his father.

But he knew that there was no way he’d live until they found the New World. That was what the kids were calling it, the youngsters who hadn’t been born when their parents had boarded the Paradise so many decades ago. They would be the ones making the new planet a home, not him. But he was grateful that his children’s children would be some of the people building that home.

As if his thoughts summoned them, a group of young adults dashed by, laughing and giggling as their strong, healthy bodies carry them past him. He idly wondered how many of the boys are named Harold, and how many were named Willa or Jael. Anderson was also proving popular on the ship. The old man chuckled to himself. He was just a guilty as anyone: his second boy had been named Harold.

Course, that’s not what Harold went by these days. Æsir was the name now, and that made the old man chuckle harder. He loved to tell the kids stories of the days when Æsir was Mythic and Mythic was just some Island kid who lot lucky as a wrestler, instead of part of the protector gods of the three lonely ships working their way across the galaxy. The Paradise, the Heaven, and the Nirvana were the ships looking for the New World; the three fragile, floating worlds that carried nearly forty thousand humans and novas to a new, peaceful life. The old man had mocked Harold and Carver’s choice of names, but he still remembered the stark, intense look in Carver’s eyes when she had quietly pointed out that the people would need hope on the long journey.

And long it was. Many years ago, they had stopped briefly in Eden to stretch their legs and feel the sun, but in the end, the ships had moved on, seeking a new, safer world. The old man knew what Harold and Carver were fleeing from: the Aberrants, and the baselines who tried to kill the novas out of hand. And everyone else was along either from love of Harold or Carver, or to find a new life, away from the war and the strife of their home.

The war… the old man shuddered at the memories. New York had been hit so hard. He was damned lucky to be alive; unbidden, he remembered Mike’s screams as he had fallen, tipping into the earth. He had watched his friend fall into the hole that had opened under them; had watched him die. The old man could still remember the look of rage and torment in Æsir’s eyes when he had seen the body of his friend, sprawled where he had fallen. “They hate us,” Harold had said, hands pressed to his eyes. “They’ll never stop killing us until we’re all gone.”

And Carver had said, “Then we’ll leave.” And just like that, the search for the New World had begun. Carver had pulled much of her personal wealth out of her Foundation – “Why should I protect them when they kill my friends?” – and pooled it with Harold’s and a few others. There had been some baselines who wanted to leave with them, and they had offered their resources as well. There had never been a question in the old man’s mind. The day Mike had died had been the day that he’d given up the label of “human.” He wanted nothing to do with those who had killed his friend.

He shook his head as he hobbled around the corner and stopped at his apartment door. I had been so self-righteous… so sure. At least it gave me the courage to leave, he thought to himself, staring at his door. He did that more and more often now – just drifted away into the past while he stared at nothing. He realized he was staring again and he pulled himself back to the here and now. Twisted fingers typed out a code and the door snapped open. “Honey,” he said as he shuffled into the room, “I wanted to see if you wante-”

He stopped when he saw who was in his room. Æsir – Harold stood up slowly, his face solemn. The old man studied his friend’s face, trying to recall the exact features of the thin, geeky friend he used to game with in the face of the blonde giant standing in front of him. It was no use – the blonde man with rippling muscles and a full beard bore no resemblance to Harold Anderson. But a moment later, the old man was relieved to see the same compassion and care that he’s always seen in his friend’s eyes.

“Did you hear me?” Harold asked. The old man blinked and caught himself, pulling his mind back from its wanderings. “There’s been an accident. Erick, I’m sorry, but something’s happened to Ruth.”

* * *

Ruth lay on the hospital bed, her face as white as her hair. Erick shuffled forward, hardly believing that this pale, weak creature was his vibrant wife. “Ruthie?” he whispered, taking her hand. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either.

His children were there: his three boys and his daughter. He tried not to think of the missing one; Rebecca had met a young man and stayed behind on Eden. Erick really wished that she were here now.

His niece was there, too; Donna Jennifer – D.J. to everyone, though – looked so much like Ruth at her age that Erick had trouble breathing for a moment. It looked like Ruth was watching herself sleep. But when D.J. met his eyes, he could see the flashes of blue, like sapphires living in her sockets. Like her mother’s, they only flashed when D.J. was agitated or upset. Given that D.J. was close to her aunt, those flashes weren’t surprising.

“I’ll find out who did this,” Carver said from behind Erick. She had been waiting in the hall for him, and must have followed him into the room. Her voice was cold, and for a moment, Erick was back in Mike’s apartment, with Ghost whispering in his ear… he shoved the memory away. Ghost was long gone, left behind on Earth, and she’d never hurt him – or make him hurt anyone again.

“I know, Carver,” Erick said, smiling at his sister-in-law. And she would – Erick had had Carver in his dreams before, and he knew what she could. His smiled faded as he said, “I just don’t like the idea that one of our own could hurt Ru- could hurt anyone.”

“They’re not one of our own if they can stab an old woman,” Æsir said, his deep voice both familiar and strange. “They’ll be found and punished.”

“I know,” Erick sighed. “I know.” He leaned his stooped frame against the bed and lowered his head, resting it lightly on his wife’s arm.

[z-Carver]

Balder peered around the doorjamb into his parents’ room. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to bother Mommy when she was sleeping, but the six-year-old really wanted a hug. And she’d been sleeping for days now! Still, he knew that when Mommy was resting, he was supposed to leave her alone.

With a pout, the boy turned and quietly stomped into the living room. Freyr was lounging on the couch, his red, green and gold striped hair shining in the overhead lights. Balder envied his older brother so much; Freyr was heavy and thick, even if he was just fifteen. Balder was as small as all the baselines in his classes. Pictures of Freyr from that age had shown that he had been the tallest in his class; he had shone among his classmates.

“Now, now,” a sculpture of a minotaur said softly, “you have your own gifts.”

“Yeah,” Balder muttered, his pale blonde head hanging as he pouted.

Freyr snorted. “Listening to the couch again, shrimp?”

Balder ignored him. “What is Mommy doing again?”

“I’ve told you twice,” Freyr said without any patience, slowly turning a page. “I’m not telling you again. Even you aren’t that stupid.”

Balder remembered then that Mommy was looking for the person who had hurt Aunt Ruth. Still, he wasn’t going to admit that to Freyr. “When’s D.J. coming home?”

“If I was her, and I knew you were here, I’d never come home,” Freyr said, turning another page.

Balder scowled and rushed at his brother, jumping to land on his chest. Instead of landing on his brother, he merely passed through him, and landed on the couch. “No fair using powers when I can’t yet!” he howled, his fists passing through his brother’s head.

Freyr’s only response was to grunt and shift so that he could see his now-dematerialized book. Balder moved to block his vision, and that resulted in a game of dodge as Freyr tried to read around his brother. Balder kept putting his hands and body in between Freyr’s eyes and book, until his older brother finally leapt from the couch and shouted, “Knock it off, twerp!”

“Do you know how hard it is to sleep with you two fighting in here?” Carver’s voice killed the argument as both boys jumped guiltily. Balder recovered first, dashing over to wrap his arms around his mommy. He smiled when her hand rested on his head.

“Did you find out who it was?” Freyr asked softly.

Sometimes, Mommy could be scary, and she had scary claws, but Balder had never been afraid of her. She was his Mommy. Now, her voice made him shiver when she said, “Yes, I have.”

[z-Carver]

The trial was held in the main auditorium. Everyone who could make it crowded into the large room, and the trial was relayed to the Heaven and the Nirvana via the IntraOp. This was not the first time that someone had gone up for murder charges, but everyone wanted to see how their nova protectors would react in this case.

The defendant sat straight in her chair, calm and collected in the face of her accusers. Her strawberry blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, falling from her sparkling barrettes. Her mother had dressed her in her finest clothes, and fifteen-year-old Jill Willow Kurtz had never looked more innocent.

But Carver knew the truth; she had been in the girl’s mind, and she had seen her dreams of pleasure. She had also seen the memory-dreams from the girl’s head, the one where she had stabbed her great-grandmother. She stared at the child from her elevated seat and tried to stifle her misgivings.

Harry was next to her, his hand in hers. The sign of comfort was hidden behind the thick panels of the judgment bench; normally, they wouldn’t do this in public, but Carver could feel his turmoil, and she knew he needed more than the touch of her mind. He’d already told Erick that his oldest great-granddaughter had tried to kill his wife. The pain from that moment rang through her husband’s mind like a banshee’s keen.

But as troubled as Harry’s mind is, Carver’s is more so. She knows what little Jill is, because it is the same thing that Jael is: a reprehensible psychopath. *Harry… how can I condemn her for being the same thing as me?* Carver sighs, her mental landscape showing the indecision that she didn’t let cross her face.

*But you chose to live in peace with everyone else. She either chose not to, or she is unable to make that choice. We cannot survive with her among us*, Harry pointed out, love and concern riding over the ragged edge of his pain. Carver turned to look at the face of her love: much changed from when they had met so many years ago, but still the light of her heart. Harry met her gaze; his blue, blue eyes were still the same and they made her heart jump just as they always had.

Carver allows the impassive mask to drop for just a moment; her face falls into lines of love and compassion as she leans over and catches his lips for a kiss. But when their faces turn back to the crowd, they are again the god-protectors of the three lonely ships. Their powerful and benevolent Æsir who was their father and protector, and their frightening and wondrous Mistress of Dreams, who guided the ships and the people with the help of the spirits and dreams; these were the gods of the people, and they now stood before the people in judgment.

“I have walked the dreams of Jill Willow Kurtz,” Carver began, her voice strong and sure. “I have seen the secrets which she has guarded from the people. I saw her torture and kill animals, both missing pets and rats, and I have seen her stab her great-grandmother, Ruth Angela Kurtz, nee Carver. There is one punishment among us for murder: death.” A wail rose from the family, bunched together behind Jill’s seat. Everyone knew that Jill was guilty, and that this would be the outcome, but to hear it was hard to bear.

“I will carry out the execution,” Carver continued after the family has had a moment to grieve. Jill looked sad, but not at all scared as Carver murmured, “Dr. Trenton? Would you please prep her?”

Dr. Trenton stepped forward, ever ready to obey the protectors, even as his face twisted with hesitation and grief and said, “Jill, please make follow me.”

“I want to do it out here,” Jill said, her collected voice carrying only as far as the ears of the protectors. “I want them to see me die.”

“Why?” Æsir asked, his voice clearly troubled. “Why would you put your family through that?”

“Because I want them to see it,” Jill said quietly. “I don’t want them to wonder and doubt how my last moments were.” Her dark eyes are empty as she stated, “I want them to know.”

“No, I won’t put them through that pain,” Æsir proclaimed curtly. “Dr. Trenton, remove her.”

And Carver closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses. She was waiting for Jill’s mind to reach a certain state, the state at which Carver could access it. How does it feel to kill your young mirror? Jael asked, interrupting her mental preparation.

Let it be, Jael, Willa said softly. There is no anger in either woman’s mental voice; such conflict had long been resolved. This has to be done, so please don’t make it harder.

I don’t like it.

Nor do I, Carver sighed, frowning. Jill suddenly becomes real to her, more real than when she had stood before her, for Jill was now asleep. And when she was asleep, and dreaming, she was in Carver’s realm.

The girl looked around at her, at the misty scene of open fields of green. The teen girl’s eyes widened as she said, “This is the biggest hydroponics garden I’ve ever seen!”

“This is no hydroponics garden,” Carver says conversationally, appearing behind the young killer. Her hands come to rest on her great-grandniece’s shoulders. “This is what it looks like outdoors, off a ship, on a planet.”

“You’re being awfully nice to a condemned killer, Great-Aunt Carver,” Jill observed, a coy little smile twisting up one side of her face. “Where is the fear that you are so known for?”

“It’s coming,” Carver said pleasantly, too pleasantly, and Jill shivered despite herself. “I just didn’t want you to die without seeing this.”

Jill turned and looked at the green space around her, the blue sky over her. “This is beautiful,” she said wistfully. Looking up at her great-aunt, she asked, “Is this where we’re going to go?”

“No,” Carver said sadly. “This is where we’re going to go. You aren’t going anywhere.” She gave Jill a gentle push on her shoulders. “Run. I’ll give you a good head start.”

Even with the head start, the hunt doesn’t take long. Before long, Dr. Trenton saw four red cuts open on Jill’s body. The girl jerked and whimpered in her drugged sleep as her blood seeped down her body and onto the surgical table. Dr. Trenton placed two fingers on the small wrist and began to count down the pulse. One final jerk, and she was silent and still, and Dr. Trenton rubbed at the sudden tears in his eyes, cursing the day he left earth.

[z-Carver]

“Space is cold and hard,” Carver sighed into Harry’s chest. They’re alone in their room, lying quietly together, their bodies still warm and slick from making love. His arms tightened around her as she rested against his muscular body. His thick golden beard tickled her forehead as she snuggled a little closer to him. “I know we had to do it, it’s just…”

After a moment, Harry said, “The necessity of the act doesn’t make it any easier.”

Carver was quiet for a long moment before she whispered, “What if it had been D.J.? Or Freyr? Or, god forbid, little Balder? I don’t know that I could kill any of them, not even for the good of our people.”

“It wasn’t our children,” Harry said softly. “We’ll do our best to make sure it isn’t them.”

“I know,” Carver sighed. “But we’re still years and years from our goal. So much could go wrong. And we’re only about four or so years out from my stamina overcoming the birth control again. What if our next child gets this strange need to kill? I seems to run in my family, Harry… what if our next child gets it?”

Her voice was tight and almost frantic with worry and Harry smiled comfortingly. “Shhh,” Harry murmured, beaming at her with white, perfect teeth. “We will make it, and we will watch our children, the ones we have and any other that come along, grow to be strong, proud novas.” She’d had so many doubts about becoming a mom, doubts which Æsir had worked long and hard to dispel. “You’ll see, love, you’ll see.”

His voice carried such authority that Carver let the moment, and the worry, go. Instead, she curled up against her husband and let her mind reach out, to touch the sleeping souls aboard the three ships, like a mother checking to see that everyone was warm and safe. And as Æsir watched their bodies, so she watched their minds and hearts on their endless voyage toward their brave, new world.