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  • One 1/11/2026

    January 11th, 2026

    Eleonore Duplay met Maximilien Robespierre when she was twenty-two years old. It had been a hot day and later there were gunshots and shouting in the street. She’d stayed up with her mother, waiting for her father to come home. If he hadn’t come home, she’d been preparing to go out to find him, no matter the condition. However he’d hurried into the yard, a stranger trailing behind him. Maurice Duplay shut the gate behind him and then towards the house.

    “Mama, the kettle,” Eleonore said just as father reached the door. Her mother moved the kettle off the fire to start on making coffee.

    “I own several apartments, monsieur. You can stay here for tonight, the top room is vacant.”

    “Ah, merci.”

    The door opened. Her father framed is wood, the stranger behind him, bedraggled by a long day. Eleonore lit another candle to see more clearly. The light caught pale green eyes and a pale freckled face. Maurice led him further into the house, closer to his wife and daughter.

    “My eldest daughter Eleonore, and my wife Francoise. Dearest, please meet Monsieur Robespierre.”

    Both women dropped a shallow curtsy and Francoise tutted. “Oh you poor man. I have coffee. Come sit,” she ordered. Robespierre muttered a thank you. Eleonore studied him with an artists eye. His profile flattened, make his face look shallow and his cheekbones look high. Maurice met her gaze and they stepped aside.

    “He was trapped at the club, during the shooting. I helped him out. He can stay for the night,” he told her. “Can you go see to the room?”

    “Yes papa,” she said and left, glancing over her shoulder to the slumped form in front of the fire.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • After the Resurrection

    January 2nd, 2026

    In the end, the choice was never a choice. Eleonore had so much left to, so much she had failed to accomplish. The power to change that was something she could not pass up.

    The place that Finn guided her to was unlike any space she’d been to before. There’s nothing natural about it. The lighting is flat and omnipresent, the walls soaring up towards a ceiling she could not even see. The atmosphere was comfortable, neither hot nor cold. Regardless she felt unnerved by the location. Eleonore sometimes expected to get lost in the flat whiteness, as though it was a blizzard and never find her way back out.

    “It’s to give you some drive,” Finn said, when Eleonore remarked on her uneasiness. “You wanna get out of here, right? Then come up with something and we can all get out into the great out there.” He waved his hand, burdened with silver rings and dotted with faded black ink, at some unseen beyond.

    Eleonore raised her eyebrow. “That seems exploitative.”

    Finn barked a laugh. “You’d be entirely correct lass.” He brought her a cup of tea and Eleonore was left to think about making things.

    • Bluesky

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty Three: Arrivals. Part One.

    May 15th, 2020

    Robespierre had just rejoined them, and Richard was sharply reminded of how much he disliked the diminutive Frenchman when he limped his way up from the kitchens, into the grand entrance. He clutched the heavy shawl around his shoulders. He also wore a pair of heavily tinted glasses. He looks the part of a beggar, Richard thought. Robespierre hair had also been shaved down to the scalp and it appeared to grow like a wild hedge.

    “Cold,” he rasped. Richard had heard that something happened to his throat, reducing his voice to whisper.

    “Yes, it is rather. Here,” Russo pushed a cup of tea over to him. “You’ll warm up.”

    Richard rolled his eyes. Across from him Bonaparte had stood up to sit down next to Robespierre, who looked up at him. Bonaparte bent toward him, whispering something that Richard couldn’t hear but made Robespierre suddenly smile widely, stretching the scars over his face.

    “Aw, that’s sweet,” Aspen Strong said. She was seated next to Richard, also watching as Bonaparte and Robespierre bonded over something.

    Richard snorted and Strong nudged him playfully. “Come on. He was such a soggy plum after we got him back. Frankly this is way better.”

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty Two: All Burst to Light. Part Three.

    May 8th, 2020

    Maximilien focused on keeping his eyes closed. Even the very dim light filtering through made his temples throb in a muted agony. He knew that the subtle sting of something in his hand was helping to keep it at bay, he’d managed to parse that much since waking up. There was a lightly accented woman’s voice that kept up a steady stream of chatter, likely so he could easily track it around the room.

    “This is going to be cold, but the medicine in it is going to help the inflammation in your eyes. We need it to go down before I can start working on your corneas.” There was a gentle clattering nearby and he flinched. “I’m curious, have you always been sensitive to light?”

    He tried to swallow, throat still aching. But he was able to force the syllable out. “Yes.” His voice was a quiet raspy husk of what it used to be.

    “There’s not a single portrait of you with them on,” the voice remarked. “Was that a vanity thing?”

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty-Two: All Burst to Light. Part Two.

    April 24th, 2020

    PART TWO.

    Napoleon had always awoken early. He just couldn’t stand the feeling of wasting time on sleep. When he’d been on campaign, he would sometimes wake just after midnight to pour over his maps or wake his aides to send missives.

    Now stuck, he still found himself waking early, wandering through the castle, often ending up in the Harmony Susuki’s study, where he could easily spend hours reading through the various war reports that had happened since his death.

    Typically, one of the women would find him, chin propped on his hand, staring unblinkingly at the diagrams of battles long won.

    However, for once he was interrupted by something far more interesting: raised voices outside of the door. Napoleon leaned back in the chair, looking over at the door.

    “Are you sure you want to do this, Jerome? You don’t-“

    “I have to do this, Mags. It won’t take a genius to put together that Julia’s source is me. Since Miller saw Aspen they’re definitely going to know we had something to do with this if I stick around.”

    There was silence. Napoleon, cognizant of the creaking chair, stood up and padded over the door.

    “We’ll miss you. Everyone,” Jones said quietly. The tall negro was facing away from Napoleon, but he could see Jenkins face. The young man ran a hand over his face and sighed.

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty-Two: All Burst to Light. Part One.

    April 17th, 2020

    Maxime was drowning in blood.

    It was in his mouth, his throat. The very smell made his eyes water and churned his stomach. He was trapped wherever he was, standing in a warm pool of blood that he couldn’t avoid getting into his mouth.

    He wanted to scream. But he didn’t dare open his mouth, for fear of all of it flooding it into him. Then, much to his horror, he could feel it creep up his face. Into his nose, leaking into his mouth past his lips and clenched teeth. It stung as it got into his eyes, warm and salty as tears.

    He was fully swallowed in it before he finally decided to just open his mouth and let it happen.

    Maximilien woke with a gasp.

    He failed under an unfamiliar weight. Something was covering him from neck to feet and he couldn’t claw his way out from under it.

    I’m drowning!

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty One: Dante in Hell.

    April 10th, 2020

    Episode Twenty One – Dante in Hell.

    A/N: Specially formatted extra-long episode! Aspen Strong: Secret Agent: The Movie. 

    This was such a terrible idea, Aspen thought to herself.

    She was barely floating along, using just enough of a propulsion to gently drift towards the Bastille, which loomed ever closer. The red emergency lighting made all the blue controls on her panel pop, but only served to remind her that she couldn’t use any of them. If the Bastille detected any unauthorized  ship coming towards them and inquired, it would ruin everything.

    Such a bad, bad idea. Why didn’t I leave for Mars?!

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty: The Destruction Cycle. Part One.

    March 7th, 2020

    Once Maximilien had given Charlotte and Henriette one of his beloved doves to care for. A moment of childish negligence and the poor bird was dead.

    He’d given Camille to Georges for careful keeping in the way he needed to be watched and as a lamb taken in by a lion, Camille had been destroyed.

    He’d carefully helped craft a document to free France from her chains and within months seen it betrayed and violated.

    Maximilien’s whole life was a constant cycle of destruction. He would nurture and build only to see it pulled apart like cooked meat as soon as he turned his attention away.

    Something must have been wrong with him, if Maxime could never care for things the way they needed to be cared for. Now, he was being punished for it.

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Nineteen: Human Needs. Part One.

    October 11th, 2019

    PART ONE.

    It was an extremely strange experience to sit down in the ancient dining hall in front of a replicated dinner with Leonardo da Vinci across from her and Napoleon next to her. Aspen took a bite of her sandwich and watched Napoleon struggle with his burger. 

    “You don’t eat it with a knife,” she pointed out and took the opportunity to take some of his french fries.

    “I’m not some savage or student, to eat with my hands,” Napoleon snorted. He persevered with the fork and knife.

    Leonardo was clearly lost in his own head, eating with his right hand and sketching with his left. It looked like the designs of an eagle or falcon in flight. 

    Harmony and Kami were getting ready to head out for the night, standing in the entryway, speaking to Magpie. Richard was sitting at one end of the table, eating steadily and ignoring Russo who was sitting at the other end. She eschewed dinner, studying the maps of the land around Middleham. 

    “Is this whole damn castle built on a swamp? The only safe places to build would be inside the castle walls,” she asked aloud, pointedly.

    Richard scowled. “The ground is steady enough to hold the castle,” he snapped.

    Russo glared at him. “It won’t always be. You should see the state of the plumbing,” she muttered, looking back down. 

    Aspen hid her smile in her coffee. She wasn’t above being amused by petty bitching between the doctor and the Englishman.

    Above them, there was the electronic whine of an engine and she glanced up. Cutting it close, Jerome.

    Aspen stood and stretched. She grabbed the last bite of her sandwich and stuffed it into her mouth, getting ready to be relieved of duty. Let Jerome keep the keep, as it were. 

    But instead of the calm saunter that she expected from Jerome, the door exploded inward, nearly taking out Harmony. Jerome wasn’t even in uniform but he looked wild, his eyes red and breathing heavily. Everyone stopped and looked up at him.

    Before anyone could ask Jerome, he spoke. “I know where Robespierre is!”

    (more…)

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Eighteen: Living Will. Part Two.

    October 3rd, 2019

    Maximilien was woken by a sharp pain to his neck. He jerked but couldn’t gather the strength to scramble away. He’d been unbound as his captor no longer considered him a threat. He’d had another three encounters with the terrible force-feeding tube and each one left him weak, trembling in a huddle on the floor. Inevitably his abdomen would cramp into knots and he’d expel some liquid bile onto the floor. 

    His mind was unraveling. It was gradually pulled apart by a single thread, where the frayed fabric could be easily punched through by his visions and dreams.

    Max squinted up. His eyesight was becoming increasingly terrible. If he was blinded, he’d no longer have to see the phantom of Camille sitting across from him, his head cradled in his lap. No more Danton looming over him, or Marat castigating him for his mistakes. 

    “Don’t speak. Well actually, you’re welcome to try.” Rainbow Miller’s voice was close to him. Her shadowy outline shifted.

    Maximilien wanted to beg her for release. If she could undo what she’d done and allowed him back into death, he’d forgive her anything. But he opened his mouth and tried to force the words but nothing happened.

    “It’s a localized numbing agent for your vocal cords. Don’t worry, it won’t last forever,” Miller said.

    There were footsteps and then Maxime lost touch with the floor. He was pulled to his feet, but unable to stand, so he was dragged. The touches were impersonal and felt far away, the pressure on his arms barely registered. Brount was barking and the smell of lilacs and sawdust was in the air. 

    The sun was brought through the window of his study. His desk was neat. Downstairs there were the quiet sounds of the household below. It was not Arras. But it was home, with Eleanore and Antoine, Camille and Lucile coming by with the baby. Coulthon and his puckish humor. David’s sticks of sketching charcoal forgotten on the settee. Danton with his ill-gotten wine, climbing the steps to meet with him, his eyes bright in his scarred face. Antoine inside his rooms, his curls falling into his eyes as he worked on the next report for the Comittee. The rain over Paris, washing away the blood into the Seine…

    Maximilien was forced back into his body when the first jet of water hit him in the face. He gasped and then choked. He’d been pinned back to the wall and could now only thrash his head back and forth to try and avoid the frigid spray. He opened his mouth the scream but nothing happened. Not at all. 

    XXX

    Julia Jenkins, Lt. had joined the Federation with her twin brother. Jerome had always been more of a playboy, more interested in the simple answers than duty and so remained earthbound. Meanwhile Julia ascended, picked by hand for her ambition and service for Chikara Haruka.

    She didn’t know why they were on the Bastille, only that Haruka had ordered it suddenly, urgently. In less than two hours a discrete cargo ship was lifting off and headed towards the artificial ring that served as part space station part prison. Haruka stood in the back watching the infamous Rainbow Miller, who did not look at all concerned to be suddenly arrested and whisked away. 

    Now they’d been on the base for days and rumors grew. Miller had been freed and now it seemed she was doing bizarre experiments on an android prototype.

    “It insists that it’s an AI and we’re trying to sort it out,” Miller explained shortly when Julia asked. “Hit the water again.” The android hadn’t even been given a designation. Julia wrote it off as one of Miller’s many quirks. She thought she’d heard Miller referred to it as “Max”. 

    Julia felt uneasy, watching it squirm against the wall. It was unnervingly silent, especially since it often spoke to Miller when they performed fuel injections. Now however it just slumped to the side, wet and broken looking. 

    Miller walked forward her cane tapping on the ground and stood before the android. She examined it closely for a moment, opening its ocular lenses, it’s auditory systems, it’s chassis and frame before humming and gesturing them forward. 

    “You can take him back now and consider yourselves dismissed for the night. We’ll perform a fuel injection in the morning.” 

    Julia almost breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired and her uniform was soggy from the ice-cold water. She and Briggs unlocked the android and it sagged between them, forcing them to drag it’s heavy frame back to the holding cell.

    “Why even have a fuel injector and not just a charger like every other android?” Briggs grumbled. She was just as soaked as Julia. “What’s the bloody point?” 

    Julia shrugged. “You’ve heard the stories about Miller. Why does she do anything?” 

     

    “To see if it can be done,” they chorused together, then broke down into giggles. Miller was almost a meme, someone so absurd but popular that it was easy to craft her into farce. 

    Julia finished toweling off while Briggs grabbed her basketball. “Do you want a game? Larousse and Yu should be getting off soon and we can do doubles.” 

    “I need to call my brother, but I’ll be down in a second,” Julia told her. Briggs shrugged and grinned. 

    “Blow him a kiss for me.”

    “Fuck off.” 

    XXX

    The quarters on the Bastille were serviceable, if old-fashioned, a relic of the period they originated in. Julia kept banging her hip on the cold metal desk, which was just a sheet of steel that jutted out of the wall, soldered on. Everything about the room was far more authoritarian than anything the Federation designed now. 

    Julia replicated herself a small bowl of pistachio ice cream while waiting for the connection. They were rationed 4gb of data per day and most of hers went to dessert and her calls back to earth. She’d put in a token bet on if Blanche was going to come out as dating his bandmate but didn’t have any real hope of winning.

    “Hey! How’s it going Jewels?” Jerome was flushed and smirking when he picked up a clear sign that he’d recently gotten laid. Julia rolled her eyes. 

    “Not as good as it’s going for you, apparently. Who was it this time?”

    Jerome winked. “Not telling. You wouldn’t know him anyway.” 

    Julia wrinkled her nose but dropped it. Same old Jerome. “Fine. How’s Aspen? Is she psyched for Blanche’s concert?”

    For a moment Jerome looked blank. “Oh uh. You know I don’t know if she’s going to see it. We’ve been pretty busy here.” 

    Julia laughed. “What? At Middleham? What, too many school field trips to handle? Chasing aliens away from the moat?” 

    “Middleham doesn’t have a moat,” Jerome corrected her automatically. Julia rolled her eyes again.

    “Oh right.” She let the silence linger for a beat before sighing. “So are you going to tell me why you’re busy or what?”

    There was a flash of an expression she’d never seen on her twin’s face. Panic. Jerome was supposed to be the charming, romantic one of the two, the one who thought on his feet and used his charm to get in and out of sticky situations. 

    “Jerome?” She asked again when he was quiet for too long. 

    “We’re having some renovations done to the castle. Jones is freaking out about it, working me and Aspen to the ground. There’s all kinds of people hanging around now,” he finally said. His voice was calm and the cadence natural. He even met her eyes. 

    “Jerome.” Her voice came out like the whip-crack she’d never heard except for in movies. 

    He sighed. “I’m being real with you, Jewels. We’re having renovations, there’s a bunch of strangers in the castle, that’s it. Please, can we talk about something else? How’s it going with your posting?”

    Julia could feel it deep in her gut that she shouldn’t let him off the hook. If she pressed Jerome long enough he’d cave to her, like he always did. But there was that expression, the look in his eyes. Whatever was happening at Middleham, it wasn’t for her to know. 

    “It’s going alright. It’s been uneventful for the most part. I haven’t seen my CO for like, a week now but I think we’re being farmed out to Miller anyway- oh fuck!”

    On-screen, Jerome was wearing a similar look of alarm, not amusement like she’d expected for her slip up. It was pretty common for Julia to usually forget about Chikara’s NDA and accidentally blurt out scuttlebut to her family. It was how Jerome found about Chikara’s impending marriage a month before the official press release.

    “I didn’t say that!” She said quickly. “Forget it, Jerome.” 

    Typically he would, with a grin and wink. But now his eyes were large and she could see where a vein ticked in his forehead. 

    “Did you say Miller, like,” he glanced over his shoulder and leaned into the screen, “Like Rainbow Miller?”

    Julia shook her head frantically but it was too late. Jerome groaned and leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked up at the ceiling and muttered something that the audio didn’t catch. He looked back at the screen. 

    “Okay. Is there any way you can tell me where you are?”

    XXX

    “Jewels, you’re late. Get over here and help me against Yu!”

    Julia is distantly aware of putting on the best performance of her life. Her body moves on autopilot, grab the ball, pivot on one foot, bounce it under Yu’s legs right to Briggs. She smiles when her partner shoots and yep, scores. 

    In her head, she’s a wreck. 

    Jerome had told her the most ridiculous story. Dead white men, up and walking around? Some bizarre experiment that Miller had done, or maybe it was aliens or whatever. Now they’re being hunted by Chikara, the Federation’s most loyal supporter, President Zhu’s strong right arm to keeping the Federation peaceful and orderly.

    She’d kidnapped him off the fucking street, in broad daylight, as he screamed. Jerome sent the security footage you saw the panic in his actions, the same that he had when you’ve grabbed him. Shorn and isolated and oh god…

    Julia didn’t believe him at first. Miller was up here because she was running secret experiments, Government Eyes Only. Where else would they hide, then in the Bastille? Who would investigate this lonely place willingly? It was a test on a rogue AI, ensuring that it’s wasn’t really developing past its programming. Everyone had stories about an android with so much personality you could swear it was living.

    It wasn’t saline, those were tears. It wasn’t a new nitro mix for fuel it was a liquid food, it wasn’t an injection it was cold-blooded torture. I’m a fucking monster.

    As soon as Julia had been convinced, something that only her brother could do, she’d confessed everything that had happened, the cold sweat of disgust all over her body. The ice cream melted as she cried, Jerome trying to tell her that she couldn’t possibly know, this was something that Chikara and Miller cooked up. She gasped out what had happened, what they were doing to the man. Jerome’s face had paled and he scrubbed a hand over his face. The warning that they had used up almost all of Julia’s data made them both jump. 

    “Look. You can’t let Chikara and Miller know that you know, or that I know. Just…play along.”

    “Play along?!” Julia shrieked. “We fucking used a high-pressure hose on him today! I’m don’t want to-”

    “Two minutes.” The computer’s smooth voice cut across Julia’s hysteria.

    “You’re going to have to, otherwise Chikara will have us all up there, Jewels. Please,” Jerome begged. “I’m going to tell Magpie and we’ll make a plan to rescue him. You won’t have to do it very long.”

    “It’s the goddamn Bastille,” Julia snarled, tears dripping onto her console. “You don’t just fly up here and ask nicely to be let in.”

    “One minute.”

    “We’ll make a plan. Play along. I’ll make sure to keep you out if it. Just promise me you won’t try and interfere with Chikara or Miller. Promise me?”

    Julia hesitated. Her heart was shredded. Her trust in her brother, her loyalty to the Federation and Chikara, her horror at what she’d unknowingly done. The knowledge was a fork, the tines pulling through her tender soul. 

    “Promise!” Jermone barked.

    Julia jumped and eyed the countdown. “Fine, I promise. Just, get up here soon please?” She begged. 

    Jerome breathed a sigh and smiled. “I will. I love you.”

    The feed cut out. 

    XXX

    Robespierre seemed to be wilting. His already pale skin was becoming translucent, sapped of vitamin D. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, the green of his eyes disappeared behind the black. He didn’t react when Rain poked him with a needle. If it weren’t for his rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing, he could be mistaken for a corpse. 

    “We’re going to have to change the fuel,” Rain tsked. It was simply easier to allow the indulgent fantasy of a broken android than waste her breath on the guards. She stood up from her crouch and nodded. “Grab him and let’s go.” 

    One of them moved promptly but there was a moment of hesitation from the other. She glanced at Rain before reaching for Robespierre. 

    “Is there an issue?” 

    She startled and adjusted her grip on Robespierre, tightening on his arms. “No Ma’am.” 

    Rain watched her carefully before turning on her heel to lead them from the cell. So far no one had raised any objections, there had been no suspicions on her conduct. Rain guessed that Chikara had ordered this silence.

    “Pin him down.” 

    Robespierre struggled weakly. “Non. Non. Arretez.” Rain wondered if she should have numbed his vocal cords again.

    Once again the guard shows just the flicker of hesitancy but Rain seriously considered throwing her from the room anyway. Or telling Chikara.

    Robespierre gagged around the tubing, convulsing before going limp and shutting his eyes tightly. Rain messed with the recipe and it’s slightly thicker when she poured it down the funnel. Robespierre gagged again when it hit his stomach. Rain can see the tremors in his hand as he flexed his fingers around the arms of the chair. 

    She watched carefully as she flushed the mixture with water, looking at the guards. One of them, a shorter more muscular woman from the independent State of Texas watched with barely concealed boredom, her eyes glazed over. The other one, taller and lithe, was standing at stiff attention. She wasn’t shivering or fidgeting, but there was a deliberate control in her stance. 

    Rain sat back after she finished. The taller guard moved to unbind Robespierre. 

    “Stop. We’ll leave it like this for a bit.” 

    There, in the girl’s eyes was what Rain was looking for. Panic, fear, anger. She almost smiled. I see you figured it out. But were you smart enough to see it or did you have help?

    “You’re dismissed. We’ll come back for it at,” it was just after six, “two hundred hours.” 

    “What? That’s two hours!” She blurted out and Rain made a show of blinking in surprise.

    “Yes. It doesn’t have anywhere to be. I’m running a simulation and need to check on in. Check the perimeter and then we’ll take the android back two hours,” she said, shrugging lightly. “I do have other things to do up here you know.”

    For one moment Rain was sure the girl was going to refuse, her eye’s quickly flickering over the tube that was still running down Robespierre’s throat. But she and other guard gave a crisp salute and matched out the door.

    Rain flicked off the light as she left, considering her next move.      

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Eighteen: Living Will. Part One.

    September 19th, 2019

    Episode Eighteen: Living Will. Part One.

    Richard wouldn’t know how to define the way time passed at Middleham. It seemed both that he spent his days relearning his home and all the changes, but then either Strong or Jones would find him and he would be called for dinner. When he looked back later it would seem that he did nothing for days. 

    Jones persisted in their attempts to speak to him but Richard found that all he needed to do was claim exhaustion or illness to be left alone. Outside of their company, however, Richard found himself entirely alone, except for the beings of light. Leonardo did not seem interested in his company, spending time with one of the guards, or speaking to Harmony about computers.

    Richard had also found himself lingering in the chapel for hours, praying for guidance and strength in light of this new world he found himself in. He was no longer a king, no longer a husband or father, no longer a soldier. But Richard would be damned before he lapsed and abandoned his faith as well.  

    Then Russo returned.

    “I had to completely rearrange the shifts at the clinic. Also if anyone asks, I’m visiting a monastery in Tibet,” she told Jones, who grinned shakily. 

    “Let’s hope that holds up under examination,” they said. Russo pursed her lips.

    “I’ve spent time there before. If it’s for spiritual guidance people are less likely to go looking for me. And I rented a room there.”

    “Won’t help if they look for your ID,” Strong pointed out.

    “That’s the last case scenario, hopefully. Besides, I’m not missing. I’m not going to drop out of contact with anyone. There’s no reason for the Federation-”

    “Chikara,” Strong interrupted. 

    “For anyone to go looking for me,” Russo said calmly before casting her gaze on Bonaparte, who was examining her as well. Richard had noticed that he had a soldier’s bearing, feet firmly planted and shoulders stiff. Russo didn’t seem to care, reaching out to embrace his hand. 

    “Doctor Primavera Russo.” 

    Bonaparte’s eyes flicked over her height, her face, her hand. After what was clearly a moment too long, since Strong and Jones glanced at each other, he took her hand. 

    “His Imperial Majesty Napoleon Bonaparte,” he said gravely. 

    Russo’s cheek twitched. “Pleased, I’m sure,” she muttered and dropped his hand, turning to Richard. “So I’ve been doing research and I’ve come up with a few experiments about how to make your spine. But first, we’re going to have to come up with a sterilized space to do it.” She grinned suddenly, the first Richard had seen on her. “It would be a fine thing for you to die of an infection in the thirty-first century.”

    Richard could feel his face harden. It was something that Anne told him many times that frightened the court since his mood suddenly became unreadable and unnerved his company. 

    “Is it so necessary?” He asked quietly. The room stopped, even Bonaparte. 

    “What? What do you mean?” Russo looked over at Jones. “What does he mean?”

    “I speak for myself,” Richard snapped. “I mean what I say. Is my life at risk, with my back as it is?”

    Russo’s grin had long fled and now she crossed her arms over her chest, her face just as stony as his. “No. Scoliosis isn’t life-threatening. But surely you don’t want to be,” she gestured to all of Richard. 

    “Please, tell me what I should not wish to be when the Lord Almighty crafted me thus?” Richard replied coldly. Jones laughed too loudly and stepped towards Richard, palms up as if Richard was some horse to need calming. 

    “Richard, she-she didn’t mean that. It’s just that… well, wouldn’t you be more comfortable?”

    “I don’t think my comfort matters unduly.” Not if it’s God’s will to have me be so. It would be a just punishment for my life.

    Jone’s face twisted slightly and for the first time, Richard saw irritation pass over it. “Richard, are you saying you don’t want to have Russo operate on you?” 

    Richard stiffened. Jones may think of themselves as the new master of Middleham, but the last virtuous king died with him on Bosworth.

    “No. I do not wish it.”

    Russo threw her hands up and snarled like a dog. “Fantastic!” 

    Jones approached Richard. “Please, Richard it would really be for the best if you-” He backed away, uninterested in their protests.

    “No. If he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t have to have it.”

    Everyone looked around at Strong. She was leaning against the table, her arms crossed over her chest. She was looking at Richard evenly, expression inscrutable. She looked over at Russo. “You said yourself, it’s not going to kill him. If he wants to live the way he was born, we can’t tell him to change it.” 

    Richard blinked. Once again, the maid soldier had surprised him.

    Strong bit her lip now. “But I do think that Doctor Russo is right. We’ll need a medical bay. We still don’t know what condition we’ll find Robespierre in.”

    Bonaparte startled, eyes wide. “Robespierre?”

    Richard looked over at him. “Yes. Do you know him?”

    Bonaparte hesitated, eyes flicking around the room. “I did not know him. I knew his reputation as a tyrant, a dictator,” he said slowly as if feeling out the words. 

    Richard snorted, mouth twisting. I knew it. For all his words about being an unjust ruler, he ranked petty tyranny over others. 

    “He was kidnapped, right before Leonardo and Richard came to Middleham and uh we still can’t find him.” Strong shifted her weight back and forth. “Harm’s still working on it.”

    Russo, who still looked mulish, sighed loudly. “I suppose you’ll also want me to fix that when we find him.”

    Jones looked over at her with a small smile. “That’d be great, certainly.” 

    “Well if you want me to, then get me a layout of the grounds,” Russo demanded. “I’ll take my bags upstairs.”

    With one last look at Richard, she scooped up her belongings and mounted the stairs. Richard had the insane desire to laugh, trying to picture any of the ladies of the court doing the same.

    Strong cleared her throat. “Well, I need to check in with my commander. I’ll use Mags office.” She nodded at them and turned towards the smaller stairwell. 

    Jones seemed to have trouble looking at Richard as they passed, muttering something about checking in with Harmony. Bonaparte and Richard were left alone in the grand hall. 

    “Why don’t you want your spine fixed?” Bonaparte asked. “You might as well accepted and soothed them.” 

    “I don’t want them to try to fix me,” Richard replied, affronted. “There’s nothing to fix.” 

    XXX

    Aspen stayed in Magpie’s office, flexing her metallic fingers. The neural processor made it flawless. She could still remember having her real hand, it had only been seven years, but if she’d had it reskinned, even Aspen would admit that she’d never know the difference. She could make out texture, temperature, pressure. In some ways, the prosthetic was even better, since she could exert more pressure than a normal hand could and withstand higher temperatures. The wrist and all the fingers could reverse the joint or rotate in 360 degrees. The metal was military-grade alloy.

    Doctors now had to report if they suspected that patients were harming themselves to get prosthetics. They were so much better than human parts that a common ice-breaking question was “if you could get a body part replaced, which one would you want?” 

    It was no wonder that Richard’s flat refusal surprised Doctor Russo. 

    But it was a good reminder. 

    Aspen looked up when the door opened and Magpie stepped in. To their credit, they didn’t even look surprised.

    “Aspen.” 

    She relaxed and smiled. Magpie was one to wear all of their emotions on their sleeves. Even just her name had no bite behind it. 

    “Boss.”

    She stood up and waited at ease while Magpie settled in, looking much like their namesake in a nest. Ruffled feathers and all. 

    “I’m assuming you’re hovering for a reason?” Magpie asked. 

    “Permission to speak freely?” 

    Magpie startled. “You’ve never asked before,” they said slowly. “I’ve never had a reason to ignore your advice before.”

    Aspen shrugged. “We’re in uncharted waters here, boss. We’re harboring three fugitives and figuring out how to turn Middleham into a safe haven. I figured I should at least observe the basics, right?” 

    Magpie snorted. “Alright. Permission granted. What is it Ensign Strong?”

    Aspen relaxed her stance. “I think we’re going to need a psychologist.” 

    To her surprise Magpie sighed and nodded. “Yes. I think so too.” They shook their head. “I wasn’t expecting Richard to refuse treatment like that. I thought he’d want to be able to…” They shook their head again. 

    “Be normal?” Aspen guessed. Magpie looked up sharply. “That’s quite ableist of you.”

    “I didn’t think that he’d consider his spine to be a part of his…identity,” Magpie admitted. “I’ve studied the late medieval period for two decades. I knew I was in love with it the first time I read about the Hundred Years War. At first, it was a bitter love. A perfect example of European excess and the so-called divine right of kings. And then I slowly grew fascinated by the people who fought it. And who was more fascinating than the perfect prince who might have committed fratricide to secure his position?” Magpie was frowning heavily, looking into the middle distance. “All of my research, sitting in sealed rooms wearing a mask and gloves to handle thousand-year-old texts and I thought…” They sighed and looked at Aspen with a lopsided smile. “I thought I knew him.”

    Aspen shrugged. “I’m not a historian. I couldn’t tell you anything about it. But I do recognize the signs of a displaced soldier,” she said as gently as she could. “And more than his spine, it’s his head and heart we’re going to need to look out for.”

    “It sounds like you’ve given this some thought. Alright. Do you have an idea? Who were you assigned to after you lost your arm?” 

    Aspen laughed. “Absolutely not! Gods, I wouldn’t subjugate anyone to Leddi. That man could make you think up was down. Also, he was a hardcore atheist and that’s not gonna fly with this crowd.” 

    “True. We’ll need to appeal to Richard’s spirituality.”

    “And Leonardo’s and Napoleon’s. And Robespierre’s if we can ever fucking find him,” Aspen said pointedly. 

    “I think Robespierre was an atheist,” Magpie said absently. “But you’re right. We should make it part of the deal. Weekly counseling, like we would for any trauma. Okay, so who did you have in mind?”

    “An old college friend of mine, Robin. A double major in theology and psychology. He’s out in Rome and actually did four years as a chaplain on a ship.” 

    Magpie raised one perfect eyebrow. “Really? A practicing priest?” 

    “I don’t see how we’re going to get Richard or any of the rest of them to trust him if he wasn’t,” Aspen admitted. 

    Magpie sighed. “Contact him. See if he has any interest, but subtly.” 

    Aspen groaned. “Great. More subterfuge!” 


    A/N: I’m not going to do this often, because it’ll be too easy for me to just start posting essay’s down here about my Opinions on History, but I felt this update was going to warrant some clarification. First, in regards to Richard’s back, the original draft has him do the surgery. But upon further consideration and rereading some thoughts from his biographers, it occurred to me that it was as Aspen said, “ableist” and considering Richard’s piety, out of character for him to just be okay with allowing an invasive operation to change a fundamental part of who he is. Secondly, in regards to some of the statements Magpie makes on Robespierre which are incorrect, one should remember that Magpie’s specialty is Medieval Europe, not the Enlightenment or French Revolution. If a historian doesn’t actively tap into a time period, they might not know any more than any other academic on the subject.     

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Seventeen: Invasive Operations. Part Two.

    September 5th, 2019

    Episode Seventeen: Invasive Operations. Part Two.

    A/N: This is for Jeremy. You know what you did. Thank you.

     

    Richard’s very first introduction to the so called “Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte”, as Magpie Jones introduced him grandly was when the other man looked around Middleham and sniffed dismissively.

    “Is this where I’m to be banished?” The man complained, looking over at Aspen Strong. “This drafty English castle?” He waved his hand around the grand entrance.

    Richard was gratified to see that he wasn’t the only one who bristled. Jones’s red tinted lips tipped down and he caught Kami and Harmony Susuki grimacing at each other.

    Strong rolled her eyes and squeezed his shoulder with her metal hand. “You’ll get used to it. Here, let’s get you something to eat and get caught up.” She glanced around. “Although maybe we should get Doctor Russo to look at you first?”

    Jones shook their head. “She left to arrange her sabbatical. We have to make it look natural, she can’t just up and vanish.”

    Strong shrugged and continued to drag Bonaparte with her. He did not seem to expect her strength and stumbled over his own feet following along, glancing around at the castle’s tapestries and the small glowing panels that were embedded among the masonry.

    These were the panels that Richard had spent the majority of his morning studying. There was at least one is every room and he discovered that when activated they played small scenes, the actors appearing in a beam of light that Richard could pass his hand through, as if they were made of fog. To his understanding they represented what the life of the castle would have been like to live in.

    It had shocked him, when Richard activated one of the panels and was confronted with himself. The representation was fairly close, although the clothes were plain and he seemed too old. But the scene was of himself, with Anne. They were in audience with several nobles, their hands lifelessly clasped together as they listened.

    Richard played the scene several times, his heart tight as he stared at Anne. Her representation was a poor one, her features plain and wooden, but Richard could look into her eyes and with a little imagination, it was almost as if she was before him again. Before everything had gone so terribly wrong, their son taken from them and her own health plummeting like a dove shot out of the sky.

    He’d only been pulled from his musings when Jones found him and pulled him along to meet the Emperor Bonaparte. Richard eyed the young man again, who was being instructed on how to use the food and clothing dispenser by Strong. His countenance seemed noble enough, but his name was not one that Richard was familiar with.

    “Where is he from again?” He muttered to Jones.

    “He’s Corsican and French by marriage. I suppose you could also count him as Austrian if you tried,” they said.

    Richard snorted. “Why didn’t you drag Leonardo down here, then?”

    “Oh! We should introduce him, shouldn’t we? Would you get him, please?” Jones asked, eyes wide.

    Richard’s refusal was on the very edge of his tongue, pressing up against his teeth before he remembered that he had no authority here. He clenched his jaw together and spun on his heel, towards the stairs.

    “Thank you!” Jones called out after him.

    XXX

    Leonardo took his own good time in answering Richard’s summons.

    He was disheveled and was biting back a yawn when he opened the door. He seemed disappointed to see Richard, mouth twitching into a small frown.

    “Ah. Richard, how lovely. Good morning,” Leonardo mumbled, leaning against the door frame. “What can I do for you?”

    “It’s noon, the day’s half over. Have you been asleep the entire time?” Richard’s voice rose incredulously. Leonardo waved his complaint away, smothering another yawn.

    “I was reading all night.”

    Richard frowned and mentally marked down sloth onto Leonardo’s list of faults. “There’s a new person downstairs.”

    Leonardo regarded him blankly.

    “Another one. One like us. He was Emperor of France, apparently.”

    Leonardo blinked and straightened up. “Emperor? Well that is something,” he muttered and nodded to Richard. “I’ll be down shortly. What is his name?”

    “Bonaparte.”

    Leonardo nodded again and whirled away, snapping the door shut in Richard’s face. Relieved of his duty, Richard took the opportunity to return to the chapel. After all, Jones never said he had to return.

    XXX

    Leonardo was enjoying the future. More than he ever could have guessed. It was as if he had finally found where he was meant to be. Everything about it was fantastic. There was a quote in one of his own biographies “It was as if Leonardo had woken to find the world still dark.”  Leonardo was awake again and found that everything was illuminated to an almost painful degree. 

    Leonardo made his way into the heart of the castle and he could hear Aspen speaking to someone. 

    “So I still unclear. Are you technically French or Italian? Because you were Emperor of France but your army was Italian?”

    Leonardo had just stepped off the final stair as the man answered. “I am Corsican. Neither Italy nor France had a right to claim and oppress my home.”

    Aspen’s eyebrows were raised as she listened to him. She was resting her chin on her human hand. As Leonardo drew close she waved at him. 

    “Either way I guess you’ll have company here, beside all the barbarous British. Leonardo, come and say hello to Napoleon Bonaparte.”

    The man turned in his seat and blinked at Leonardo, thin brows drawing together slightly. Leonardo offered his hand and bowed slightly from the waist. 

    “I’m pleased to know you. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard the news from Corsica.”

    Napoleon nodded, still staring at Leonardo as if he couldn’t place him. “Yes. And you are?” He glanced at Aspen. 

    “Leonardo as in da Vinci. He died in France, right?”

    Leonardo smiled, thinking back on his borrowed chateau. “Ambroise. It was beautiful.” 

    Napoleon’s eyes had widened and he suddenly stood, taking Leonardo hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “You! You painted the Mona Lisa!”

    Leonardo smiled. “Si. You admire her?” 

    Napoleon’s smile was a wide and toothy thing. “I love her. I put her in my bedroom, in the Tuileries. She is the best of all the portraits I have ever seen. Not even David could capture the like on canvas.”

    The praise made Leonardo flush. “Oh. Well, thank you. She’s not finished,” he admitted.

    Aspen slapped her hand down on the table. “Perfect! Since the two of you get on, Leonardo can you show Napoleon around the rest of Middleham? You know, get him all caught up? I need to speak to Magpie.”

    Leonardo nodded and gestured to the door that led into the courtyard. “Your highness, I’ve been reading up on the history of this castle. I think you’ll be interested to learn about the Nevilles.”

    Napoleon’s lip curled back and out of the corner of his eye, Leonardo saw Aspen flinch. 

    “I doubt there is, but I would like to take a look at the fortifications. Are there maps, as well? I want to know where exactly on this damned island I am.”

    XXX

    With Napoleon taken care of Aspen headed back up to the offices where she found Magpie and Harm looking over his program for finding the recently-resurrected. 

    “Is Napoleon all settled in?” Magpie asked. Aspen leaned against the desk and watched as Harm did something clever with the coding. 

    “Yep. I drafted Leonardo to help. What’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the screens.

    “I was thinking it over last night. If we’re trying to figure out how many of these uh,” Harmony looked at Magpie to fill in. 

    “Temporarily-displaced,” Magpie said at the same time Aspen shouted “dead people!”

    “Zombies,” Harmony nodded at Aspen. “If we’re trying to find zombies and we know they don’t have IDs then instead of combing every millimeter of the planet with the smart recognition program all we should need to do instead is use subtraction right?”

    Aspen looked at him blankly. “What? How?”        

    “We can always know how many IDs are currently on Earth. There’s a live counter right on the Federation site. Look,” Harm pressed his display and it popped up on the screen. As Aspen watched the counter fluctuate around 11 billion, the last five digits changing faster than she could read them. Harm pressed another button and it froze. 

    “Then all we need to do is take the Terran-tracking life sign counter, the one that the Federation uses on a private database.” Another number, this one at 11.4 billion and Harm pressed it. “So then I’ll subtract the two and remove the calculations from the Martian colony.”

    “But how does that help us find them?” Magpie pressed. “All we’ll know there’s a discrepancy.” 

    Harm smiled and held up a finger. “Ah! I’m glad you asked boss. Now all I have to do is find the life signs that don’t have a corresponding ID…” He swiped his fingers across the board. “So these are the remaining ones. What I’ll do now map out each of these life signs.”

    He flicked his fingers up and the holo-globe popped up. As Aspen watched little blips of light started appearing. They then kept appearing, like a little leak that reveals a serious problem in the plumbing. 

    “I think you’re calculations must be off,” Aspen said. “There must be-”

    “It’s one hundred and forty-seven,” Harm told her. “The flickering ones are accounted to births/deaths.”

    “But the others…” Magpie slid their fingers over the globe, spinning it. “Look! There’s these three in Vegas City. And over here in Moscow. And look, here’s where we are! Oh my god.” They looked at Aspen and Harm, eyes wide and horrified. “If there’s really this many…”

    “Then what the hell are we going to do?” Aspen finished.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Seventeen: Invasive Operations. Part One.

    March 28th, 2019

    A/N: This part contains depictions of force-feeding and suicidal thoughts.

    “Why isn’t he eating?” Chikara demanded when she caught sight of the security screen.

    Rain shrugged, shuffling the pack of cards she’s replicated. The Bastille was not the most exciting posting she’d ever had and that included the six months she washed petri dishes for chem lab.

    “No idea. His mental state has declined steadily since he’s been a prisoner so he might have decided to simply,” she flipped the cards from palm to palm, “give up.”

    Chikara’s cheek twitched and Rain raised an eyebrow at her. “Is there a problem, Major?”

    “Keep him alive. He’s evidence,” she barked.

    Rain shrugged. “Yeah, in the case you’re building against me, no doubt. Why should I try and help you?”

    “I can arrange for you to join him.”

    “You can. But I think you’ll also need my help in finding the other two. What else?”

    Chikara was silent for a long moment, dark eyes inscrutable. “Because you want to,” she finally said.

    Rain blinked. These were the first words Chikara Harurka had said to her that she couldn’t outright disagree with.

    She set the cards aside and glanced at the viewscreen. “You have me there.”

    Chikara nodded. “You may use any means necessary,” was her final declaration before leaving.

    Rainbow smiled. Any means huh? Well then once again Robespierre, I apologize.

    XXX

    “They took me shortly after you were taken to the National Razor. I bore it for you, but they would not let me take your name. I was severed from you, because of you, Maxime. Babet lost her husband because of you. Lucile lost her son, the son you name, because of you.”

    Maximilien Robespierre would have given much to drive a needle into his ear, to prevent the soft voice from getting into his head.

    Eleonore Duplay was sitting beside him, her white linen dress drenched in blood from the neck down. She looked much like she had the morning Maxime had left for the last time.

    “Cornelia, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were dry and aching. He had nothing more for her, not even tears. It didn’t occur to Maximilien that Eleonore never would have wanted them, just as he wouldn’t have wanted hers.

    Maximilien had been disturbed from his visions when a hand roughly grabbed his arm and he was jerked to his feet.

    “Move!”

    Stumbling blind Maxime walked forward. The invisible barrier that had kept him in the room was gone and another pair of arms grabbed him and led him for what felt like hours. His eyes felt as if they had swollen nearly shut, reducing the world to hazy grey blur. Almost immediately his calves cramped into bunches of knotted rope in his legs from kneeling and sitting for so long.

    Maximilien could only assume this was when they would finally execute him.

    Eventually, harsh hands grabbed his bare shoulders again and maneuvered him into a room. It was blessedly dim. He was shoved into a metal chair, goosebumps promptly breaking out over his skin. His wrists, ankles, and neck were firmly strapped against the chair.

    “Hello again Robespierre.”

    He gasped. “Rain? Madame Miller? You’re alive?”

    She stood over him, her features blurred. “I am. Did you think the Federation was going to kill me? You really are from a very different time,” she said, her voice colored by humor. Maxime heard her take a seat next to him, her voice coming close to his ear.

    “I want you to know, I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I wanted change. It won’t matter much to you, but I am sorry, Robespierre.”

    He wasn’t able to turn his head at all, but he tried to make sense of her expression. Rain’s face seemed to be obscured by water. “What do you mean?”

    In her typically irrelevant tone, “you’ll see what I mean.”

    Lights flipped on directly over him and Maxime cringed away from the painfully bright light. There was the sound of metal on metal.

    “Open your mouth.”

    Dread built in his stomach as he meekly complied. Promptly a metal bit was shoved into his mouth, depressing his tongue and making so he couldn’t shut his jaw. Maxime recoiled and tried to squirm away.

    “Restrain him.”

    Someone grabbed his head, fingers sinking into the soft skin of his temple. A whimper tried to crawl out of his throat but Maxime ruthlessly beat it back. The would not have his submission. Not here, not when he was being held with no trial or accusation against him.

    There was a moment of stillness and the only thing Maximilien could hear was the thunderous sound of his heartbeat. Then there was a smell, like lamp oil only stronger.

    “I recommend you take a deep breath in,” Miller said. Maxime had no time to contemplate this advice before there was something rubber at his lips, in his mouth, at the back of his tongue and snaking all the way down his throat. There was the heavy taste of iron, the tube had scraped his tongue and he was bleeding

    He gagged and tried to scream but found he couldn’t make any noise at all. He tried to shake his head loose but the talon-like fingers just held him tighter. Down, down, down. Maxime could feel the pressure of the tube behind his lungs and all the way into his stomach. He was shaking when they finally stopped feeding it into him.

    Tears that Maxime hadn’t been able to shed for Eleonore now trailed down his face, scalding hot. The part of the tube still out of him was lifted over his head, so it was fed directly into him. After another painful moment of silence, he felt something being poured into the tubing, the cold liquid hitting his stomach directly and he gagged again. His toes curled against the metal floor. He gripped the arms of the chair, feeling his nails break under the pressure.

    “It’s very emotive,” someone said softly. “Is it the pressure that’s evoking the saline?”

    “You got it in one, Jerkins,” Miller said absently.

    “Why wasn’t it taking fuel? Some defect for a prototype to have.”

    “Classified,” Miller muttered. “Just shut up and keep him still.”

    Maximilien was enveloped in a fog of horror. Time slipped away from him and he was horribly unprepared when the tub was roughly yanked back out. He tried to scream but the best his abused throat could do was a croak. He was made to stand and promptly crumpled to the floor. Someone grabbed him under the arms and they dragged him back to the cell.

    As he laid on the floor, shivering, Maxime finally realized the totality of his imprisonment. He was not even going to be allowed to die. There was truly no escape.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part Three.

    March 22nd, 2019

    Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part Three.

    A/N: Guys. Small confession. I’m not the world’s biggest Napoleon fan, so if he’s not quite as fluid in terms of thought process and characterization as some of the others, that’s why. I may or may not resent him for being The World’s Worst Jacobin.

    The Island of Saint Helena.

    Clio perched on one of the ceiling beams, looking down on the mortal below her. His eyes were closed but she wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or just playing at it.

    “Now that’s a big fish,” Spectra said from beside her. She swung her back legs, her yellow-eyed gaze amused. “These mortals have some ambition.”

    “Just like Rainbow,” Clio pointed out. “And look how that’s turning out.”

    “Just like him and he kicked off a whole era of silly alliance making. Which in turn led to the most shocking war-“

    “Until the next most shocking war and the one after that, so on and so on. Yes. I know. But how could he have known that? How could he ever be asked to see beyond his own small life?”

    Spectra shrugged. “Mortals get better at it with age. Mine seems to understand the difference between diplomacy with words and diplomacy with a knife, you know.”

    Clio sighed. “You have to hold him to his own. He was a weight-bearing spine when the previous years had seen nothing but cripples.”

    “You’re soft on him,” Spectra grinned. “This is your background come to light. You prefer the direct attack, the blunt weight of a club.”

    “Don’t blame me, blame my lineage,” she said with a sniff. “Oh look, he wakes.”

    XXX

    Napoleon Bonaparte wasn’t entirely sure how much sleep he had gotten but there was light still streaming through the windows of his room. So he’d either fallen to Morpheus for an entire half day, or it had been a meager few hours. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

    He’d never before considered himself blessed to be able to sit up, but after a month of feeling like his abdomen was being crushed in a vice, it was an ability he was never going take for granted again.

    Once up, he promptly checked the door, which had been locked after he’d been tossed in here. The handle was missing and it was barred from the outside. Napoleon snorted. They knew how they had and taken proper precautions then.

    Likely the English.

    He examined the one window, which was ten feet from the floor and barred. The bed was bolted to the floor. There was a single plate which had previously held a small loaf of bread, butter, and some smoked shellfish. The plate was made of some lightweight material that hadn’t broken when he threw it against the floor, hoping that the disturbance would cause a guard to come, or break into a shard to fashion a weapon with.

    Not much to engineer an escape, frankly. Napoleon sat down and stared at the door.

    It a perfect world, word his resurrection would have already spread and those still loyal to him would undoubtedly come for their Emperor. However, nothing had gone right over the past few years so he didn’t think was about to start.

    Napoleon did not know how long he had been laying down on his cot when he heard the door unbolting. He quickly got to his feet, holding himself ready.

    The door swung open and the two masked people who had been looking over Napoleon when he woke are standing in the doorway, with some foreign styled pistol aimed directly at his chest. He lifted his head in challenge: like any man would dare to fire boldly at him.

    “You will come with us.” The speech is strange, stilted. It’s a very unnatural voice as well, it sounds like metal grating on cobblestone.

    Napoleon lifted his head higher. “You will not give me orders. I de-“

    Before he can give them his list of requests and demands to get into contact with whoever the hell is running France in his stead, one of them stepped forward and hit him with the barrel of the pistol. Napoleon found blood dribbling down his chin and he was dragged along by the arms outside.

    The sun seemed stunningly bright and he shook his head, clearing spots and trying to shake off their hold off his arms.

    There was a very loud buzzing noise from overhead and Napoleon looked up, expecting to see a myriad of hornets. A dark shadow passed overhead and then began to float down to the ground. He gaped at the flying object, which was a stern grey and black and shaped in a wedge with two wings. It opened and figure clad entirely in black matte fabric exited, holding a very large rifle.

    In a strict military fashion that Napoleon would have been proud to see in his own ranks, the soldier marched directly toward them.

    “You have the credits?” One of his captors called out.

    In an oddly mechanical voice, the soldier replied. “Yes. Right here. Release him and I will send it over.” He held up his fist and Napoleon could just make out that he held something shiny. Silver? He was insulted, he was worth more than just a fistful of silver!

    “Maginot line exchange?” His captor called again. The soldier nodded once. He pressed his arm and much to Napoleon’s amazement, a part of the uniform detached and hovered next to him. He placed the silver on the floating object and slowly started sending it towards them. Napoleon could just make out the air it displaced to keep it hovering.

    His captors seemed unphased and they shoved him forward. “Walk. Slowly. If you run, we will shoot. Understand?”

    Napoleon glared over his shoulder, but nodded once and began a slow march over the parched earth. His heart pounded in his chest but he kept his chin up. What coward what shoot him in the back and suffer the wrath of his Empire?

    The floating object passed him halfway and he could hear a high-pitched whine. He glanced at the silver and saw it was pressed into a small square, almost as flat as paper. Untarnished and good quality but such a small amount that he scowled.

    When he finally made it to the solider, he turned around and faced back across the hostage line. They had the silver but the floating thing zipped back quickly. The soldier caught it and slotted it back into his uniform.

    “Satisfied?” He called out, voice still grating out oddly. The captors looked at the silver, examining it closely and even holding it against the sun.

    “No tracer?” One of them shouted, looking at them suspiciously.

    “Of course not. This is off the books.”

    Finally, they seemed prepared. “Get on your ship and leave,” one of them barked, leveling the pistol at them.

    The soldier nodded and with a firm hand on Napoleon’s shoulder, steered him ahead. He was herded up the metal ramp and pushed into the cabin of the ship. The soldier slapped hand down on the wall and the door slowly shut. He ripped off his helmet-

    “You’re a woman!” Napoleon blurted out. The African woman looked at him and grinned shakily.

    “Sure am. You’re Napoleon,” she glanced over him quickly and moved to the front of the ship. “I kinda thought you were going to be shorter.”

    Before he could formulate his furious reply to this or demand to be released, she powered the thing on and he could feel the vibrations under his feet.

    “I’ll get you out of those cuffs soon, but we only have about thirty seconds until they realize that credit card is a forgery and then we’re totally fucked,” she said brusquely. “You’ll probably want to sit down,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and gesturing to bench on the side of the ship.

    “Why would I-“ but before he could get out the rest of his demand, there was a high whine of sound and then the impact of something hitting the metal outside of the ship.

    “Fuck! Sit down!” She barked and pressed the glass panel in front of her. The ship was still being bombarded when it lifted into the sky and Napoleon pressed himself against the hull, eye closed. It felt as if his stomach he been left behind.

    He could hear the woman hissing and cursing as she steered the ship and the feeling of it weaving back and forth on the open threatened to make him very sick.

    Finally, it evened out and there was a gusty sigh. “Okay, we’re over open water so we should be good,” she said softly. He jumped when there was a hand on his shoulder. Napoleon opened his eyes and saw her smiling at him. He glanced at the front and saw that it seemed to be steering itself.

    “Here, stand up and turn around. I can get those off,” she said, pulling the leather gloves off her hands. He started when he saw one of them was made of metal. He turned and faced the bulkhead.

    “I’m sure you have a lot of questions about all of this,” she said, voice carefully level. He felt tugging on the restraints and they suddenly popped open. “I can answer a few of them, but my boss will be able to answer even more. Right now our biggest priority is to get you to safety.” Napoleon turned around.

    “What did they ask for my ransom?” He asked.

    The woman blinked. “How much money? A billion credits from the Corsican government.”

    “Oh,” he said. “A billion. Is that what you gave them on that silver?”

    She nodded. He shrugged. “That’s good enough, I suppose. Where are we headed? Paris?” He asked, heading towards the bow.

    “Ah, well,” she stuttered as he inspected the navigation. It was sleek and clean, comprised of entirely glass panels.

    “How do you steer this?” He asked before she could answer his question. “There is no wheel.”

    “Thank gods, a question I can answer,” she muttered. “This is the navigation array, this is propulsion, and this is altitude. Honestly, it’s pretty fool-proof. The Federation does know how to streamline things.”

    He looked up, eyebrow raised. “Federation?”

    “The Terran Federation,” she said. “That’s where you are now.”

    Napoleon nodded absently. “So if not Paris, then where?”

    She pulled a face and fingered the end of her golden braids. “You aren’t going to like this, but we’re going to castle, in England. It’s called Middleham.”

    He sneered. “So I see. From one jailer to another.”

    She sighed. “It’s not like that. There’s a lot of people who are trying to get to you and won’t hesitate to kill you. You’ll see when we get there,” she assured him.

    Napoleon scowled. “And what’s your name, madame?”

    “I’m Ensign Aspen Strong. I work security at Middleham.”

    He cast a dubious look at her. While the woman did seem to be well built enough to be a fishmonger, he’d never heard of a woman who worked as a soldier.

    She steered him to the back and pushed him onto a bench. “Look, we’ll be back at Middleham in about an hour and a half. Why don’t you get some rest?”

    Napoleon’s stomach growled. Strong smiled. “There’ll be food there, too, don’t worry.”

    He rolled his eyes. “English food.”

     

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part Two.

    March 5th, 2019

    Season Two. Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part Two.

    A/N: *Comes back almost 1 year later.* I told I wasn’t done yet! To everyone who has been patiently waiting on me to update again, thank you. Special shout out to whoever is doing a regular check in China. I really appreciate it. Hopefully, I will get back up to doing weekly updates.

    Rain stretched her back and looked over at Marie Rivera, still standing at parade rest as she watched Rain.

    “Can you go get me a coffee? His heart rate has dipped so it’s not as if we can do much right now,” Rain said, kicking her legs up onto the console, smiling as Rivera scowled.

    “You don’t understand how orders work, do you?” Rivera said. Rain smiled ever wider.

    “I do, I just don’t care. You’re Chikara’s second, she clearly trusts you not to fuck this up. So just go get me the coffee,” she insisted. Rivera stared at her for a long moment before finally sneering and turning to the door.

    “Two sugars, two creams,” she called at her jailer’s back before the door locked.

    Rain waited for just a moment before turning back to the console and switched her feed from Robespierre’s pathetic figure to the piggy-backing counter she’d applied to her program. It kept an inventory of how many IP addresses had downloaded it.

    Right now it was over 500. Rain smiled: if even half of those managed successful resurrections it wouldn’t take very long until the Federation realized something was amiss in their picture-perfect surveillance society.

    Chikara Haruka wanted to bury the past, did she?

    Well if there was one thing that Rain could remember from her school days it was that history always had a funny way of coming back for people who didn’t respect it.

    XXX

    Richard grit his teeth and recited Hail Mary under his breath. He yelped again when a sharp pain applied to his shoulder.

    “Will you stop that?” He snapped at Russo who merely stared at him, unimpressed.

    “No. Since you can’t tell me what Rain inoculated you again you and Leonardo get to have all of them done. Frankly, it’s a minor miracle that neither of you caught anything yet.” She muttered under her breath as she turned away, “Or that we haven’t caught anything from you.”

    Richard glared at her turned back.

    “Courage, Richard,” Leonardo said lightly, leaning against the wall. “It could be Rain doing all of this to us.”

    This didn’t comfort him as Leonardo probably thought it would. Richard also sourly noted that Leonardo hadn’t volunteered to go first either.

    “This is the last one. Then we just need to do a quick scan and I can work on getting you a spine,” Russo said and poked him again. Richard gritted his teeth and endured.

    Leonardo watched in interest as she slowly waved a long metal pole over him, staring down at a display. He slowly crept over, craning his neck to see it better. She noticed and her lips quirked up into a small smile.

    “Here, you hold this and tell me what you see,” she said and thrust it to the Italian. Richard scowled slightly. Why did everyone seem to innately trust the Leonardo? There was nothing to suggest that he was a priest or another especially educated individual. His artwork seemed to be the largest motivator for admiration but there were thousands of artisans.

    Leonardo fumbled it for a moment before steading and staring at it intently. He quirked his head to the side.

    “It appears that his spine has curved out of shape. The bones have changed, becoming angled. But not all of them. The ones above his hips and neck are still straight,” he glanced at Russo, who nodded. “You said you could replace the damaged ones, si?”

    She nodded and looked at Richard. “Not all of the bones need to be replaced. But what this means is we will need to identify and measure the ones that do need to be. Since you’re past maturity we will actually also need to calculate how long to make each one, since we can’t add any more to your height.”

    Richard nodded, lost. Hesitantly he decided to ask, “How will you remove the bones?”

    Russo frowned slightly. “Well, typically we would do it in an operating lab where we could simply put you out and then swap each vertebra, using microsurgery. Then we would keep you under for a few hours to watch for complications. After that, you’d be looking at about six weeks to two months of PT.”

    “PT?” Leonardo asked.

    “Physical therapy. Helping the muscles to heal and the spine readjust to its new shape. It wouldn’t be totally painless but it would require the least amount of trauma possible.” She sighed. “Since we’re limited to staying here however it’s slightly more complicated. I’ll have to work on finding a way to bring in medical transporters, laser scalpels, the bone printers and training someone to assist in the operation.”

    “What does that mean?” Richard asked.

    Russo looked him over. “It means I’m going to have to resurrect some old techniques. It’ll take some time,” she said, sounding apologetic.

    “I’ve been this way for over a thousand years. What’s a few more days?” Richard asked dryly. He saw Russo quirk a smile in his direction.

    “That’s the spirit,” she told him.

    XXX

    Leonardo rubbed his shoulder, slightly sore from the multitude of injections. The needles were narrower than a grain of sand but the force that they were plunged into his skin left a bruise none the less.

    “I guess the dead just have thinner skin,” Aspen said with a grin.

    The night was now falling over the castle and Aspen had left for the night after taking Russo back to Italy, with promises to return after she had sorted out her affairs and found some way to transport supplies.

    Magpie was staying but both Kami and Harmony had both left as well.

    “No offense but this place isn’t exactly the picture of modern comfort,” Harm confided in Leonardo. “Magpie is great but Kami and I have a life outside of this,” he waved a hand around at the castle. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

    Now Middleham was dark and quiet. Leonardo was sitting up, teaching himself about basic medical operations. He was surprised at the amount of disinfecting that seemed to take place. He never thought that so much of what caused complications in injuries had to do with infections.

    Leonardo blinked and looked up as a breath of cold air stole over his face.

    “Hi. I knocked but there was no reply.” Jerome was standing in the doorway, hand on the door. “I’m checking in on everybody.”

    “Everybody?” Leonardo asked, leaning back in his chair, stretching slightly.

    “You, Richard and Mags. They’re not looking to leave anytime soon,” Jerome said with a twist to his lips. He gestured. “Can I come in?”

    Leonardo smiled. “Please. I was just finishing some texts that Doctor Russo gave me. She thinks I have the makings to become her medical assistant for Richard’s surgery.”

    Jerome sat back on the bed, resting against the wall. “Yeah? That doesn’t surprise me. From everything I’ve ever heard you’re a pretty smart guy.”

    Leonardo laughed aloud. “I’m flattered that people think so highly of me. I hope I don’t disappoint.”

    Jerome tilted his head and slowly drew his eyes over Leonardo, before meeting his gaze boldly. “You’re looking pretty good from where I’m sitting.”

    In all his life Leonardo had never been so blatantly propositioned. He couldn’t imagine having anyone stare at him the way Jerome was currently as if Leonardo was an especially well-prepared meal. He flushed and Jerome’s expression grew even more smug and satisfied. He patted the place next to him.

    “Come here. You don’t have to sit so far away.”

    When Leonardo was fifteen he had modeled for Verrocchio’s David. He’d borrowed armor from a soldier and wielded a sword left-handed. While Andrea had worked the other students had used Leonardo for practice. It was here, long after the workshop had closed and the other apprentices had gone to bed that Leonardo first laid with another man.

    “Come, Leonardo,” Angelo said drawing him close, breath smelling of watered wine and his already calloused hands eclipsing Leonardo’s. He was still taller than Leonardo then. “Show me what talents you already you possess with that sword.” They went down on the floor of the studio, hands on skin and hair tangling as Angelo hovered over Leonardo.

    The excitement, tinged with the despair of shame and danger if pursued rushed back over Leonardo as he stared at Jerome, slowly rising from his desk. It wasn’t more than two steps to the bed but Jerome pulled him in, hand on his wrist so Leonardo instead landed on his lap.

    “There’s room here too,” he whispered and kissed him.

    Jerome, in Leonardo’s estimation, was a lovely kisser. He knew the rhythm and steps of the old dance. He wasn’t interested in simply staying confined to Leonardo’s mouth, often trailing off to nip playfully at his neck or gently kiss his cheeks.

    “You’ve some talent for this,” Leonardo murmured.

    Jerome pulled back. “I practice,” he returned with a grin.

    That were the last words spoken between them for some time.

    XXX

    Aspen yawned as she entered Middleham. The main hall was already occupied with Magpie, who looked annoyingly cheerful for seven in the morning and Russo who looked as tired and grumpy as Aspen felt.

    “Good morning! We’re waiting on Kami, Harm, and Jerome to start debriefing,” Magpie said, brushing a sliver bang back from their face. “Can you check if he’s on his way down?”

    Aspen nodded, already headed to the back staircase, more interested in the coffee upstairs than where Jerome was. However, she found Jerome before she was even anywhere close to the staff facilities.

    He was stepping out of Leonardo’s room.

    Aspen gaped openly as he gently shut the door and then started tiptoeing to the staff area. She followed behind and apparently Jerome was distracted enough that he didn’t notice until he was at the replicator.

    Jerome turned and jumped narrowly avoiding slashing hot coffee all over them both.

    “Dear god Aspen, what the hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” he demanded. She ignored him instead scrutinizing him carefully, looking for the evidence of getting up close and personal with a formally dead Italian.

    “Did you sleep with Leonardo last night?” She asked finally.

    Jerome smirked. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said.

    Aspen slugged him in the arm. “You’re not a gentleman, you’re a slut. I can’t believe you!”

    Jerome opened his eyes wide and adopted a look of contrition. “What do you mean?”

    Aspen shook her head and pushed past him to help herself to the replicator. “If Mags catches you, they’ll lose it. You can’t go sleeping around with all these dead people, Jerome.”

    “Um he came on to me. Also, why not? We’re trying to introduce them to the year three-thousand. I just gave him a warm welcome.” Jerome winked.

    Aspen rolled her eyes.

    XXX

    Magpie had retreated to their office when Aspen returned to the main floor. She came across Harmony and Kami coming in.

    “Harm had an idea for tracking potential ressurections last night. He’s going to experiment this morning,” Kami explained when her husband promptly bolted for his office, taking the stairs two at a time.

    Aspen nodded. “I’ll let Magpie know. Have you seen Russo yet?” Kami shook her head. “That’s fine, she said it didn’t know how long it would take for her to sneak away.” She continued onto Magpie’s office.

    “How’s it going boss?” She asked, sitting down across from Magpie.

    They looked up and said gravely, “I think you should go today.”

    Aspen blanked for a moment before realizing what Magpie was referring to. “You want me to go get Napoleon today? What’s the rush?”

    Magpie turned on the desk display. “I was up all last night, trying to dig up what I could on why he might have been resurrected. I came across an anonymous source that leaked this document that was sent to the Corsican government.”

    He once declared that France must choose. Now so do you. We have him and he can be yours for one billion credits. What is your history worth to you? You have 48 hours. After that, he will be destroyed.

    Aspen glanced up at Magpie. “You think this refers to him?”

    Magpie nodded. “According to the leak, a lock of hair was included, presumably to authenticate him.”

    “Forty-eight hours. The exchange would be today,” Aspen said. A cold ball of dread had gathered in her stomach.

    “Yes.”

    “You want me to go steal him out from under the Corsican government, knowing that if Haruka catches me I’m dead?”

    “Yes.”

    Aspen sighed. Here she was, thinking that working security on an old castle tourist-trap would be easy. She was indeed a fool. “I’m finishing my coffee first. Also, Harm apparently figured out a faster way to find the resurrections. He’s working on it now.”

    Magpie brightened. “Really? How?” Aspen shrugged.

    “Kami didn’t say, but he’s working on it now. I’m sure you could send Leonardo to spy on him, they seem to get on well enough.”

    Not as well as he and Jerome get on, her mind snickered. Aspen fought to keep from smirking.

    Magpie nodded, looking thoughtful. “He seems to be adjusting the best.” They snorted. “Well of course. He’s the one who was always ahead of his time.”

    “What about Richard?” Aspen asked. She remembered the gloomy look on his face from yesterday.

    Magpie shot her a helpless look. “I don’t know what to do for him yet. I think Russo will help but,” they shrugged. “Who knows?”

    Aspen nodded and sighed. What have we gotten ourselves into?      

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part One.

    May 11th, 2018

    Episode Sixteen: The Emperor. Part One.

    Aspen set the flyer down inside the underground lot and flipped off the engines. She turned around to look at Russo, who was fiddling with the straps of her belt.

    “Well then, let’s go and meet everyone, shall we?”

    Russo nodded mutely.

    Aspen led the way into the castle and pushed her way past the double doors.

    Magpie was sitting at the grand table, fingers drumming on the table and looking over a spread of tablets. They looked up at Aspen’s arrival and shot to their feet when they saw Russo.

    “Aspen, and Doctor Russo, I presume?”

    They started forward with a huge grin on their face.

    Russo shook hands, looking surprised. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

    “We haven’t but I’m delighted you are here anyway. You can just call me Magpie.”

    Russo nodded then gestured to Aspen. “I was told that you had a most,” she hesitated, “interesting project that you wanted my assistance on.”

    Magpie nodded. “Yes, I do. How much has Aspen told you?”

    “That you have a dead man living in the castle,” Russo said flatly. Magpie shot Aspen a raised eyebrow. She shrugged her shoulders.

    “That’s a partial truth. You see, we actually have two dead men living in our castle.”

    XXX

    Leonardo was woken from a light doze by a knock on the door.

    “Hey, Leonardo? Are you awake?”

    He blinked and shook his head, coming awake near instantly. He rolled off the bed and crossed to open the door. Aspen was standing there. Her brown eyes flickered over Leonardo’s shoulder and she leaned to the right slightly, peering into his room.

    “Something I can help you with?” He asked eyebrow raised.

    She grinned at him, shameless. “Funny, I thought Jerome might be here.”

    Leonardo fought the urge to flush. “Non, he went home.”

    “Hmmm, really? I knew he wasn’t a gentleman.” Aspen smirked.

    Leonardo put up a single finger, hushing her. “He has been nothing but proper. Now was there a real reason for you to wake me or are you just here to tease me?”

    She shook her multitude of braids back from her face, sobering. “Yes actually. We have someone we want you and Richard to meet. Magpie is waking his highness now, so come on,” she waved him on with her mechanical hand.

    Leonardo darted back to grab his notebook and the new lead pencil that Jerome had brought him and followed Aspen’s broad frame down.

    There was a striking black-skinned woman with long hair who was sitting at the table with her hands clasped tightly around a cup. She looked up as Leonardo and Aspen came down. She glanced over at Aspen.

    “Who is this?”

    Leonardo bowed at the bottom of the stairs. “I am Leonardo ser Piedro da Vinci, signora.”

    He heard her gasp and looked up, smiling slightly.

    Her brown eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open slightly. Leonardo noticed the way her eyelids fluttered as she glanced over his face as if trying to see if he was recognizable. Leonardo doubted it, the only (official) portrait he’d ever done of himself was considerably different than how he looked now.

    “Leonardo da Vinci?” She asked faintly, as he walked forward. “Like, the Gian Giaconda, Leonardo?”

    He nodded and she took a deep breath and braced her hand on the table. Before she could ask anything else Magpie arrived with grumpy looking Richard in tow.

    “Here he is! This is his highness Richard the Third, King of England,” Magpie announced grandly. Richard glanced at the woman then back to Magpie.

    “Who is this woman?” He asked. Leonardo winced, seeing her expression darken slightly. Magpie also flinched and Aspen buried her face into her human hand.

    “I’m doctor Primavera Russo. Jones invited me here to see if I can help you,” the doctor said and held out her hand, pointedly remaining seated. Leonardo raised his eyebrows. He’d been in the presence of many men who would have had her promptly beaten for such a flagrant display of disrespect to royalty.

    Richard’s expression went wooden and he stiffly shook her hand, before turning to Magpie.

    “I told you, I am not having anything more done to my body. Your doctors have already done enough to me.”

    Magpie looked hurt for just a moment, their goldish-brown eyes dimming and casting to the floor.

    Russo bristled. “Look, I came here of my own volition. Furthermore, it’s for your own good,” she sniffed.

    Richard whipped around and Leonardo took a step back while Aspen stepped forward.

    “For my own good?! How dare-” Richard growled.

    The doctor stood up and Leonardo realized that she’d been disguising her height. She was as tall as Leonardo was and seemed to tower over Richard. To his credit, the ex-king did not shrink away.

    “Yes, I dare. Jones is trying to do something nice for you, and if it’s true that you come from the 16th century, it’s something that you can’t even imagine. But if you’re going to be an ass about it, I can just as well leave,” the doctor snapped in his face. Leonardo looked over at Aspen who had her eyebrows raised.

    Magpie stepped between the two and with a little effort forced them apart.

    “I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” they muttered, before turning to Richard with a sigh.

    “Richard, please. I want to help you, and so does Doctor Russo.”

    Russo scoffed and tossed her head.

    Magpie turned to the doctor. “Also, about you leaving…”

    Russo raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

    Aspen stepped forward. “Well the Federation or, I guess Haruka, is not pleased with these guys. She already sent Rivera after them once. And I’m not sure how long it’ll take her to realize where we’re hiding them.”

    Russo frowned. “But this is why you needed someone to come here? And that’s how you found me?”

    Aspen shrugged. “Basically. So now that you know, we’re gonna need you to take, like a vow of silence or something.”

    The doctor’s frown intensified. “You didn’t tell me this earlier,” she growled. “I’m not wild about the idea of Haruka arresting me and sending me to do farm labor.”

    Aspen shrugged again. “We needed to get you here.”

    Russo growled again but was interrupted by Richard. “She should leave. I have already informed Magpie I do not wish anything more done to my body.” He turned his back to the doctor. “I will be in the chapel.”

    Magpie sent a slightly panicked look at Aspen and then at Russo.

    The doctor stormed forward, her curls bouncing. “Hey! I’m here to help, and from the look of it, I could completely straighten your back! But I guess if you don’t care about your quality of life…” She trailed off.

    Richard had stopped.

    “That’s impossible,” he said rigidly. “There’s nothing that can be done.”

    Russo stepped forward again. “Actually, yes there is. It should have been done when you were a child, but it’s not too late.”

    Richard finally turned, looking wary. “How?”

    Doctor Russo tilted her head slightly. “Well, I’d probably have to make you a prosthetic and replace the one you have now. It’s been done before. The only issue would be making you one when you can’t leave this castle.”

    Richard moved back towards her. “Replace it? How?”

    “It’s a little complicated. It’d be easier to show you if this place is wired for database access.” She looked at Magpie who was beaming.

    “Yes. Yes, absolutely!”

    Richard looked between them. “Are you sincere? My back could be as it once was?”

    Russo nodded. “Yes. I can do it.” She glanced at Magpie with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be able to fix his attitude though.”

    XXX

    On the moon prison, The Bastille.

    Maximilien kept waking up, even though he never seemed to fall asleep. The light had burned into his eyes and a thin grey mist was beginning to obscure his vision. It felt like a hot needle being shoved into the base of his skull every time he opened his eyes.

    Max had never been a strong man, his childhood had been punctuated by illness that left him thin and pale. During the Revolution, he would work himself up to the brink and then find himself dangling over a long dark fall. Now imprisoned, he could feel his meager strength leeching away. While the bread and water were sustaining him, Maxime had no idea for how long until he would drift into that hazy space of illness.

    Maybe I’m already there, he thought as he opened his eyes and saw a figure standing against the wall.

    “Well this is certainly a fine mess,” Georges Danton said. “For someone who insists that he is irreproachable in terms of respectability and virtue you certainly find yourself on the wrong side of the law, eh Robespierre?”

    Maxime closed his eyes, heart racing erratically. Danton could no more be there than Camille could and he couldn’t bear the sight of his bloodied lips any more than he could his last vision.

    “Come mon ami. I thought you said you would love me till death, now you won’t even meet my eyes,” Danton goaded him and Max looked up flushing.

    “I do, I did,” he hissed. “I wasn’t the one who-“

    Danton walked closer and Max swallowed his arguments.

    He’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real. He can’t harm you any more than the air can.

    “Who what, Maxime? I implore you, finish your accusation. At least time you do it to my face,” Danton’s voice had no trouble filling the room.

    Heart still racing Maxime found his feet and suddenly-

    He was back in his rooms. The window was open to the Duplay’s courtyard. The bedroom door shut but unlocked. Danton seated at his desk as Max paced.

    “You’ve been corrupted,” Max said, resisting the urge to shout. “You took bribes.” It felt like a slap to the face. Camille had vouched for his honor. Maxime told Danton as such and to his fury, the big man merely shrugged.

    Maxime gasped and staggered to the side, furious. Danton was still standing in front of him and with a cry of anger and grief, Max rushed towards him.

    He slammed into the white wall and fell back, the taste of metallic-salt filling his mouth. As his eyes fogged over he rolled onto his side and spit the blood out of his mouth. Max shuddered remembering his teeth being shattered in his mouth after he was shot.

    Maxime curled into a ball into one of the corners of the room, his hands clasped over his ears, nails digging into the flesh of his bare scalp. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or the past rising from its grave to haunt him but he could dimly hear the screams and shouts of the sans-culottes, the slish-thunk of the national razor, the shouts of the Convention. He desperately wanted to sleep and leave this nightmare but it refused to come to him.

    Maximilien couldn’t imagine being anymore miserable than he was and thought longingly of Rain’s house. Even Richard’s company would be welcome at this point.

    Cutting through the mist of blood-red noise, there was the increasingly familiar sound of displaced air. Maxime turned over and looked at the center of the room.

    There was a small loaf of bread and a pitcher of water.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Three.

    March 20th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Three.

    Richard stared passively at had once been Middleham’s chapel. It was reconstructed, like the rest of the castle but it lacked all of its previous luster. The altar was dusty and the wood hadn’t been polished in a while. All of the candles were unburnt and the pews had been roped off.

    Richard walked straight up to the altar, and knelt, ignoring the dimness of the room. He breathed deeply, trying to focus on prayer. There’s no smell of incense, only stale air. There’s no priest or sacraments but for the first time since coming back to Middleham Richard felt a little better.

    Richard is…adrift.

    Somehow, Leonardo has neatly slotted himself into the new rhythm of the castle, like all of this is normal. As if speaking of raising the dead is anything other than evil and irregular. Leonardo acted as if he was born to this century. Richard remembered that Rain told them that he and the Italian were born the same year, Richard can’t see how.

    The castle’s inhabitants are just as strange to him. Aspen, the black skinned solider women, which raised uncomfortable memories of the Maid of Orleans, however she at least has been treating Richard with confidence so far. Harmony- a Moorish looking magician, or at least in regards to the magical map they used to find Richard and Leonardo originally. He’d seemed nervous around Richard, often tripping over his words around him. He doesn’t have any idea where Kami could be from, her skin is as pale as his but her eyes are dark and her face was pleasingly open and smooth. She’d been friendly with him, but distant, seeming to favor Leonardo, as everyone else had.

    Magpie alone had seemed to taken an interest in Richard, but Richard had kept his distance. Magpie reminded him of either a woman with very heavy features, or an extremely graceful gentleman, he couldn’t make up his mind. Leonardo had called Magpie a ‘knife’. Richard thought he understood, mostly, he’d met eunuchs in the service of his Edward’s wife. But he had the peculiar feeling that he didn’t have the whole picture.

    Richard let his hands drop from his penitent pose and stares up at the stain glass window. Like everything else in the chapel it was slightly dusty.

    “What I am I doing?” He asked softly. There was no reply from the portrait of Mary and the Christ child on her lap. Richard rubbed his temple and with a sigh got to his feet, staggering slightly from his knees going numb.

    “Richard? Are you in here?”

    As if in answer to his thoughts, Magpie was standing at the door to the chapel, hands clasped.

    “Magpie,” Richard acknowledged shortly. They stood there for a moment, Richard staring shamelessly and Magpie examining him in turn.

    “What are you doing in here, in the dark?” Magpie finally asked.

    Richard gestured. “Praying.”

    Eyes widening slightly, Magpie started towards him. “Really? Why?”

    Richard sputtered, but they appeared sincerely to question him. “I-I haven’t since Rain preformed her witchcraft. She had no chapel in her house, and I couldn’t find any cross to-”

    “No, no I mean, why do you feel like you need to pray?”

    Richard gaped at Magpie. “To show devotion, to God.”

    Magpie’s eyes turned from intently studying his face to the altar and glass window. They hummed under their breath.

    “You owned the first bible that was written in English, in Britain,” Magpie said. Richard nodded. “You considered yourself especially devoted to God, huh?”

    Richard shrugged. “I’ve always felt it was important, yes.”

    Magpie suddenly smiled, dark eyes shining. “I’ve always admired that about you, that you valued knowledge.”

    He didn’t know what to say to that so he averted his eyes to the door, and made a quick side step.

    Magpie held up a hand. “Wait Richard, I’m sorry I didn’t meant to interrupt you, but I did have something I needed to speak to you about.”

    They stepped over the rope, and sat down on the first pew and looked at him expectantly. Richard hesitantly sat down as well. Magpie brushed a hand through their odd silver hair.

    “We might be bringing another person here, a doctor. Her name is Russo, and Aspen is going to speak to her tonight. She studies the human skeleton.”

    Richard didn’t say anything, wondering where Magpie was trying to take him with this.

    “She could, well, she could fix your scoliosis,” Magpie gestured to his back.  Richard stiffened, frowning.

    “Pardon me?”

    “Your spine, how it curves. It’s usually done when you’re younger but she’s extremely experienced and-”

    Richard abruptly stood up, heart racing.

    “My back is none of your concern. It’s of no matter,” he snapped. Magpie looked taken aback.

    “Surely you’d be more comfortable with it fi- healed.”

    Richard shook his head empathetically. “I do not want any of this centuries witchcraft applied to my body, because the last time I woke up from death.”

    Magpie frowned deeply. “Well, she’s coming here one way or another. I hope you’ll let her give you a physical at least.”

    “Give me a what?!” Richard demanded.

    Before they could discuss it any more Aspen called out to Magpie.

    “Boss! Boss, Harm has an update on Bonaparte!” Aspen skidded into the room. She took a second glance at Richard but continued on to Magpie. “He says we have firm confirmation, an old security camera on St. Helena picked it up.”

    Magpie shot to their feet. “Let’s go!”

    XXX

    Leonardo watched in amazement as Harmony’s fingers flew over the glass, while the man stared up at the screen, muttering to himself.

    He had a sudden realization that this might be what others saw when they observed him. Leonardo grinned.

    Aspen, with Magpie and Richard hard on her heels. “You have a lock on him, where is he? Can we go-”

    Harm held up a hand. “I have a general idea of his location, but only one camera caught him.”

    He flicked his fingers over the glass and an image flew up onto the screen. Leonardo saw Richard jump slightly, in the corner of the room.

    “That’s him, according to the facial recognition from Bonparte on the Bridge of the Arcole.” The image was of a svelte man, who was frowning stonily, his brown hair tied back in a que. His features bespoke of some sort of inner nobility, but his clothes were simple cotton and he walked bare foot. He was being led with a stern hand on his arm. His eyes showed confusion, but not fear.

    “Oh my god, he looks like a baby Napoleon!” Magpie cooed. Aspen rolled her eyes.

    “Is that really what we should focus on right now? Harm, can you tell who, uhh, resurrected him?”

    Harm shook his head. “It’s not clear. There’s only a couple hundred people who live on the island now, but they’re mostly independent agents. There’s some small web businesses, a church, some farms. The security footage is from just outside of the church,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, lights reflecting off his glasses.

    “Is he in any immediate danger? Can you tell if the Federation has tracked him down yet?” Magpie asked.

    Harm shrugged. “There’s no activity in the area, so I’d guess we’re in the clear.”

    Magpie bit their lip and put their hands on their hips. “Keep an eye on him. Aspen has to go and talk to a doctor about a horse…”

    Aspen frowned at Magpie. “Boss, I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

    Leonardo looked at Richard, still hovering in the corner. The man shook his head, and muttered, “Don’t ask.”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved. Part Two.

    March 13th, 2018

    Episode Fifteen: No One So Little Loved: Part Two.

    Leonardo had been eleven years old, the first time he realized what he was.

    He’d been walking back from his mother and step-father’s house, idly swinging a stick he’d found. His gaze was on the sky, watching the birds.

    The laborers were coming in from the vineyards and the sun was setting over the hills. One of them had stripped to his waist, his shirt draped around his shoulders. The sun reflected off the sweat that dripped down his neck and chest. Leonardo could still remember the way the muscles moved under his arms and stomach. His first lesson in anatomy, burned into his eyes. Something uncomfortably warm settled over his skin and in his belly.

    Leonardo stood off to the side of the road, watching them walk by. Some of them raised their hands and waved to “Accattabriga’s son.” He waved back, eyes till firmly fixed on the shirtless man.

    As he grew older he realized what had happened that evening, the first touches of attraction, of arousal.

    And as Leonardo grew, he also came realized how dangerous it was.

    At seventeen he was arrested. While Florence was lenient in its policy on sodomy, Leonardo knew how close he could have been to imprisonment, or execution. This served as an important lesson in his life: no matter how much he showed, the truth of his nature should always be obscured.

    Until now.

    Leonardo’s hands landed on Jerome’s shoulders as they stepped close together. Jerome’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin right before their lips met.

    Leonardo shut his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose as a warm tide rushed through him, tingling starting through his fingers and toes. Then Jerome tilted his head slightly and there was a wet questioning pressure on his lips. Leonardo made a noise in the back of his throat as the kiss deepened. Jerome grabbed at his waist and pulled them flush together.

    The sun had reached its zenith by the time they pulled apart, and Leonardo ran a trembling hand through his hair. It had been a very long time since he’d been kissed like that.

    Jerome sighed quietly, and grinned at him. “I have to go home before my shift starts tonight.”

    Before he could think it through Leonardo blurted out, “I have a bed, you know.” Then he flushed.

    Jerome’s eyebrows had risen up to his hairline. “You know, in other circumstances…”

    Leonardo waved his hand. “I misspoke. If you needed to sleep, then I’m assuming that my chambers could serve.”

    After leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Jerome backed away. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I have other stuff I need to do, and my sister is expecting me to call her today.”

    Leonardo blinked. “You have a sister?”

    “Yeah she works in security too, doing something for the capital.” Jerome slung on his jacket, and smoothed down the front. “She likes me to call every week or so. But,” he winked, “I might take you up on that offer some other time.”

    Leonardo smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    XXX

    Clio had been wandering around the prison where Robespierre was being kept when she suddenly blinked and was in another place entirely.

    Startled, she looked around and groaned aloud.

    “For the love of Zeus, what are you people doing now?” She groused, leaning back against a brick wall.

    The room was brightly lit by large windows going across the top of ceiling and the floor was simple hard worn wooden planks. At one end of the room two people were clustered around a computer screen. The woman was intently studying the text, muttering to herself. The man leaned over her, hand braced on her hard back chair.

    “I don’t know Lotte, are you entirely sure of this?”

    “You got what we needed, didn’t you Hamm? We’ve come this far. And I have it on good authority that Miller herself had something to do with this. Besides, can you imagine what the local government of Corsica would do for this?” She smiled.

    The man looked frowned uncertainly, but finally sighed and shrugged.

    “You’re funeral, Lotte. Let’s do this!”

    Clio turned her head and caught sight of a steel operating table, where piles of different minerals were neatly organized. Next to it was an old fashioned defibrillator.

    “Oh dear.”

    XXX

    The empty brightly lit room was quickly becoming Maximilien’s least favorite place in the world. His eyes ached, his stomach was twisted into knots, and there wasn’t a position he could lay in that didn’t make him bruise. Curled towards a corner was the closest thing he could find to comfort. He was mumbling the Declaration of the Rights of Man to himself when he heard the most unlikely thing: a dog barking.

    Max raised his head, eyes squinted. It was impossible but it sounded like Brount. He was hearing things, there was no way Brount could be here. His beloved dog was dead, like everything else. In an eternal sleep and lost to time.

    But…

    Max shut his eyes and laid down on his back, trying to pull himself back, back to Arras after he’d originally gotten the hound. He’d enjoyed talking walks in the evening, just into the fields, past the multitudes of cathedrals and churches. The puppy bounding around his ankles, and snapping at birds and rabbits.

    “Do you remember at le Grand, being told not to trample the wheat? Did you get a massive dog simply to spurn them?”

    Maximilien eyes snapped open and he looked over at the wall. Incredibly, impossibly, there was someone standing there.

    Camille Desmoulins flicked his hair back from his eyes and smiled at him. His head wobbled precariously and red blood seeped into his cravat.

    “Bonjour M-m-maxime!”

    Max’s mouth dropped open. Then he screamed, a rending, tearing sound that hurt his throat and ears. Tears involuntary came to his eyes with the force of it. He clapped hands to his eyes and buried his face in his knees.

    “Non, non, non, non!” He moaned. “You cannot be real, you cannot exist.”

    “You’d like that, w-wouldn’t you?” Camille muttered. “I’m sure it would be very con-convenient for you, Maxime, if you could click your fingers and make me vanish.”

    Horrified to his core, Max slowly raised his head, eyes still screwed shut. “I would never-”

    “And yet, you did,” the figure returned viciously. Then he stepped closer. Maximilien cringed against the wall.

    “You’re not real. You do not exist. This isn’t happening,” he told himself firmly, even as very real fear soaked into his heart. Camille ignored him (as he always did) and soon stood over Max.

    The younger man stared down at him before dramatically whipping off his head and throwing into Maximilien’s lap.

    The ghoulish face, will blood staining its lips and teeth smiled gently up at him.

    He screamed again, clawing at his own face as he scrambled to his feet, pressing himself to the wall and scuttling away from the figure and the head that tumbled to the floor.

    For a long moment the only sound was Max’s harsh breathing. He kept his eyes closed and pressed his face to the wall.

    “He’s not real. He wasn’t here. Camille is dead,” he muttered.

    Because I killed him.

    Max took a deep breath and turned his head to look. The room was empty.

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Fourteen: Crime. Part Two.

    February 26th, 2018

    Episode Fourteen: Crime. Part Two.

    Leonardo raised an eyebrow at the screen.

    “You found us by using cartography?”

    Harm tilted his hand back and forth. “Not exactly. The program maps facial features from portraits, or sculptures, or photographs. Then it searches the entire Federation database, basically every scrap of data that’s been collected since before World War Three, and searches it for matching characteristics.”

    Leonardo nodded, mostly following it. Richard looked blankly at the man.

    “This program is a map, and it’s what they used to find us,” Leonardo tried to translate, glancing at Harm to see if he was being accurate.

    “Basically.”

    “A map,” Richard said. “But how did you know we were returned?”

    Kami interjected. “We didn’t. The program simply matched you out of random chance. If the security footage wasn’t a public archive, and within the search parameters it would have missed you completely.”

    Leonardo sat back. “Luck?”

    “Fate?” Magpie piped up hopefully. “We are the historical and heritage branch of public relations for the Federation. If you should be found by anyone it should be us…”

    Leonardo kept the politely dubious look off his face, and instead turned back to Harm. “Do you think you’ll be able to use this to find Robespierre?”

    “Why on in the saint’s names would we want to?” Richard asked in sotto voice. Leonardo ignored him.

    “Leonardo has a point. You did say that the aliens, the Komali, want to have you destroyed right?” Harm asked cautiously. Magpie gasped dramatically.

    “He was a pivotal part of the French Revolution of 1789! They can’t destroy him!”

    Harm and Kami exchanged a look and Leonardo wondered if this was common for Magpie.

    “Chikara can do whatever she wants, Mags,” Harm said. “You know that.”

    “I reject the factual evidence of your statement and choose to believe that she’ll keep him alive until further purposes.” Magpie tilted their head up proudly.

    Aspen cleared her throat pointedly.

    “Any-way,” Harm drawled, turning back to the computer, “we can try.”

    Leonardo watched over the man’s shoulder as he tapped the screen with long elegant fingers.

    “What I’ll do is take any of the portraits and sculptures that still exist of him, compile them in a matrix and search the database using it.”

    Magpie nodded their head once. “Do it.”

    Aspen gestured at Richard and Leonardo, her metal fingers clicking slightly. “Come on. They’ll be at this for a while. Leo, has Richard shown you the rest of the castle?”

    Leonardo shook his head and rose to his feet. Kami looked vaguely startled, looking up at him with wide grey-brown eyes.

    “Something wrong?” He asked.

    She shook her head. “Nothing. You’re just…surprisingly tall.”

    Leonardo smiled slightly. “That’s not the first time I’ve been told that.”

    “You’d make an excellent swordsman, with that reach.” Richard said, as they walked out of the room.

    Leonardo snorted slightly. “Not likely. I find war the most disgusting enterprise of man.”

    Richard looked at him, then at Aspen, then back to Leonardo. He opened his mouth then sighed and rubbed his temple before brushing past then both and walking off.

    “He was the last English king to die in battle.” Aspen pointed out gingerly. Leonardo shrugged.

    “I care not. You must agree, if your arm was lost in a conflict.”

    Aspen hesitated, mouth twisting back and forth. “I dunno. That’s…a hard question don’t you think?”

    They turned right and Leonardo slowed to study some of the glass plaques embedded into the wall. Each presented information about the castle.

    “How so? Battle, death, pain, madness. I do not understand how any of these can benefit thinking men,” Leonardo said stiffly.

    “Well. Didn’t you design war machines, for uh, uh someone?” Aspen pointed out. Leonardo winced. Before he could explain about he intended services for Il Moro or Borgia, Aspen continued. “Also it seems to me a lot of human evolution has been based on conflict. I don’t think that’s good necessarily but it might be important, I guess.”

    Leonardo hesitated, considering her words. “I believe that art evolves the human race,” he finally said.

    Aspen smiled and shrugged. “Well of course you do. You’re the one of the, almost them most famous artist in earth history.”

    Leonardo smiled. “Grazie.”

    “No, really.”

    XXX

    Aspen found Magpie later in their office. They were bent over an old-fashioned book, mumbling under their breath and with a tablet propped up by lots of coffee cups.

    “Hey boss. How’s it going?” Aspen grinned slightly watching Magpie jump, their elaborately done silver hair quivering.

    “Aspen! How’s Richard, and Leonardo? Did you show them the kitchens, the-”

    Aspen held up her hand. “Richard already knows where everything is, although he has some choice words for some of the inaccuracies.” Apparently the kitchens were too small and the lack of stables and horses were dire. “Leonardo seems more interested in the databases than the building.”

    Magpie nodded, relaxing back into their chair. “Makes sense. Richard spent lots of time here, in his youth and adult life. Leonardo seems to have been largely transient. Florence, Milan, Rome, back to Florence, back to Milan, and then France,” they rattled off. “I’ll have Harm teach him the basics.”

    Aspen seated herself in the chair. Soon Jerome would be here to relive her. She’d left Richard wandering the halls, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Leonardo had already disappeared into his room, long nose pressed to a tablet.

    “So, we’re keeping them. What next?” Aspen prompted.

    “What?”

    “They’ll need a doctor, you know to check them out and make sure they don’t have any extinct germs on them. Didn’t they both live during the first plague?”

    Magpie blinked. “Good point. It was towards the end of the plague years but if either of them have it…”

    “Yeah, the last thing we need is a relapse of the White Plague.”

    Magpie winced. “Yes. But they’ll also need recent inoculations. And Richard’s spine.”

    “What about it?”

    Magpie showed her the tablet. It had a picture of a skeleton with a curved spine on it.

    “His scoliosis is usually resolved in childhood. We’ll need to find a XD, someone who can also perform surgery to fix it.”

    Aspen raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think he’ll want it fixed? Have you asked him?”

    Magpie hesitated. “No, I just figured he’d want it.”

    Aspen blinked, surprised. “I thought you’d be the first to be talking his ear off, asking about every detail of his life.”

    “I will! I want to but,” here Magpie smiled sheepishly. “I’m a little nervous to. He’s been this pedestal, this goal in my life for so long.”

    Aspen laughed. “You’re over complicating it boss. You gotta remember, he’s just a human, like the rest of us. He got into a right pissy mood when Leonardo told him he didn’t like warfare. He’s been wandering around all day, looking like he’s been hit over the head. If anything, I think he could really use someone who knows their stuff to talk to.”

    Magpie blinked at her. “There’s surprisingly profound Aspen.”

    “Hey! I can be sensitive, even if I was just a grunt,” Aspen threw up her hand, smirking at Magpie.

    They laughed. “I guess you can. Alright, we’ll work on it tomorrow. Do you happen to know any XDs who could be trusted with this?”

    Aspen shook her head. “You’ll want to fry Harm or Kami about it, not me. I’m surprised you don’t.”

    “I never spent much time with any doctors. I dislike the smell of chemicals, paper and old stone are better.”

    Aspen left with that concept in her head. Old stones and paper huh?

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Season Two. Episode Thirteen: Illumination. Part Two.

    February 7th, 2018

    Episode Thirteen: Illumination. Part Two.

    Maximilien Robespierre decided he was really very tired of being dragged around. His vision was blurred and every few steps he stumbled as the guards marched quickly down a long curving corridor. The lighting was a flat washed out yellow light, and when he squinted at the walls, it didn’t seem like there were any windows.

    Where on earth was he?

    The woman who’d barked orders and had his glasses taken had said it was the Bastille, but that was impossible. That most hated symbols of tyranny was gone, he’d lived through its deconstruction. Seen it’s crumbling sad architecture himself.

    How could this be the Bastille?

    Maximilien was jerked from his theories when the guards made a sharp right and he nearly twisted his ankle on their boots.

    He was released and he stumbled away from them, hands subtly out so he could feel if he was going hit something.

    “Take your clothes off,” was all the one of the escorts said. Max gaped.

    “Excuse me?” He managed to get out of his strangled vocal cords. One of them moved and he realized that they were both likely armed. A cold sweat broke over his skin.

    “Remove them or we will do it for you,” she insisted.

    Max hesitated, but just for a touch too long because the next thing he knew one of them caught his wrists, twisting them around to hold them behind his back and the other was cutting his clothes away with quick efficient movements. Stunned he froze before trying to twist his hands out of the tight grip.

    “Stop resisting,” she ordered and lifted his wrists higher up his back. Now trying to move made it feel as if he was going to break his own arm.

    Maximilien grit his teeth as the sharp blades ran along the front of his torso, his shirt falling open. His heart raced and a grey fog swirled around the edge of his vision.

    “Why are you doing this?” He burst out, the shirt pushed off his shoulders to fall in scraps at his feet.

    Neither answered, and he gasped as his hands were pulled yet higher. His belt was ripped away and he screwed his eyes shut as both his trousers and small clothes were pulled down to his ankles. A firm grip on his ankle and one shoe, then the other, was removed.

    Max’s wrists were finally released and he swayed, rooted to the spot, as the feeling came back to his hands. The guard behind him nudged him forward.

    “Step into the shower. We’re not done yet,” her palm was warm in between his shoulder blades. The touch made him shudder.

    They made him place his palms on the cool tile in front of him. However when the cool touch of metal was applied to the back of his neck, he gasped and lashed out.

    “Grab him!”

    Arms like steel crushed him and another strong hand grabbed the back of his neck, and pushed his face into the tile. Max closed his eyes again and willed himself calm, shaking as the snip snip snip of scissor went all around his head, hair falling in tangled strands to the floor.

    Maximilien was panting by the time they were done, heart racing and knees shaking. The arms released him and he sagged against the wall. Both of his guards backed away and he was privately grateful. Until the moment very cold water started pouring over him, He flinched away, but a barked out “Don’t move!” made him freeze.

    The water pounded down on his newly shaved head and shoulders. It never became any warmer and his teeth were chattering by the time they were done.

    He was grabbed again and this time his hands were firmly locked behind his back in crossed metal cuffs before they grabbed his arms and started marching him down the corridor again.

    Max shivered as they walked for a very long time. It could have been in circles for all he knew, everything here looked the same, but eventually they stopped, and he was pushed into another room. This time, without his hands to catch himself, he stumbled and landed painfully on his bare knees. By the time Max righted himself, his guards were gone and there was slightly blue haze on the air.

    Head spinning Maximilien stared, as if he could will them to reappear and explain what in the hell just happened.

    His heart beat slowed as Max concentrated on breathing. He pushed himself to his feet, and slowly walked over to the blue haze. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

    Or he tried to, because when he brought his bare foot into contact with the haze it felt as if someone had splashed cognac onto an open would, stinging and burning along his toes and the ball of his foot.

    He leapt back and hissed quietly. He squinted as he looked around, trying to make out the greater details of his room-his cell.

    It was a plain white tile room. There was not bed or mattress, no chair or desk, no windows. He walked the circumference and nearly broke his ankle when he stepped into a hole that he assumed was meant to serve as a commode. And that was it.

    Max sat down, cross legged, in a corner of the cell. His back pressed into the smooth tile, and feet braced flat on the floor. It was cold and he shivered again.

    Had Richard and Leonardo gotten away?

    Were they, like him, trapped in here somewhere?

    Had they been killed in the struggle? The last he’d seen was Leonardo being pulled away and he’d assumed that he’d done the sensible thing and run away, but now Max was realizing that it might not have been that simple.

    He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, squinting slightly. These lights were likely going to cause a massive pulsing headache in his temples before long but, that seemed like the least of his problems currently.

    Maxime sighed.

    Why did that women who’d arrested him, taken his glasses, and put him in here seem to hate him so? And would she see him through to a trail, or was this a classic, common case of injustice, as Max had fought against during his life?

    He curled up tighter, and rested his forehead on his knees, his back protesting.

    What would happen to him now?

    XXX

    Rainbow Miller spun her chair idly, her hands still handcuffed behind her.

    “So now you have him naked and contained, hm Chikara? What comes next?”

    Chikara Haruka stood next to her, hands placed neatly behind her back and feet even with her shoulders as she observed the first prisoner the orbital moon prison, the Bastille, had seen in two decades.

    “You do, Doctor Miller.”

    Rain stopped her spinning, looking up at the head of Federation security. “Me? I’m flattered Chikara, I never knew you thought so highly of me.”

    Haruka looked down at her. “I don’t but you will put to rights what you have done, and it starts now.” She leaned down and pressed a button on the com station in front of Rain.

    The doctor leaned forward, her long dark braid falling over her shoulder. She read the first few lines before slowly looking up at Chikara.

    “This is about physical and mental interrogation techniques…”

    Chikara nodded once. “Yes.”

    Rain tilted her head. “I’m sorry but it was my impression that the Federation banned torture at the end of the last World War.”

    Chikara stared at her. “Do you know why everyone in the Federation wears an ID?”

    “It makes tax collecting simple?” Rain replied snidely.

    “Because not only does it protect the population form each other, it also protect them from the government. ID and ID tracking is nearly public knowledge. It doesn’t take much to find anyone on any of the Federation planets or space stations. If you have a relative on a labor farm, you can easily check their wellbeing by just knowing their ID number,” Chikara explained.

    Rain rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m one of the top scientists the Federation never hired. I know how the system works.”

    “Then you’ll also realize that IDs prevent the Terran Federation from harming any of its citizens. All 80 billion of them are protected by public knowledge.”

    “Yes, so?”

    Chikara suddenly leaned down into Rain’s face, her dark brown eyes were like a tree struck by lightning.

    “Except for three of them. The three you created and unleashed onto an unknowing population, with their savage ideas, and unknown contagions, and their violent hideous customs,” Chikara hissed, eye lashes fluttering with the force of her hate.

    She straightened back up.

    “And now Doctor Miller, you are going to help me and be in charge of cleaning up your mess. You are going to take apart that beast you’ve unleashed and when I find the other two, you’re going to do the same to them,” Chikara stabbed her finger empathetically at the screen where Robespierre was curled up into his corner.

    Rain stared at her with wide eyes.

    “Good god. And people say I’m a maniac,” she muttered. Louder she said, “No. I will not help you torture a man to insanity Chikara. I might play fast and loose but even I’m not that unethical!”

    “You were unethical enough to bring these wretches back, weren’t you?”

    “Yes but that was quick and painless! You’re talking about breaking a man’s mind on a metaphorical wheel, and I won’t do it.” Rain spun her chair around, chin up in the air. “You can have one of your kept scientists see to it and I’ll go directly to the labor farm, thanks.”

    She heard Chikara sigh softly and after a moment a firm grip on her chair turned her back to the com station.

    But now it wasn’t showing Maximilien. It was showing Kamala Manson.

    “She’s your intern, correct?” Chikara asked, her tone crisp. “I have two officers following her and waiting on my word to be brought into custody. Her charge will be treason, just like you. She’ll serve right there with you on one of the Federation Farms in Arizona. I can arrange it,” her fingers snapped, “that fast.”

    Rain’s mouth went dry. Kamala was walking along the Nile, her face buried in a tablet. Her wedding ring glinted in the sunlight.

    “I will give you three seconds Doctor Miller, and then I will make the call.”

    Kam had been so scared of the Labor Farms, she’d squealed immediately to Chikara’s husband.

    “Three.”

    She’d walked out on Rain, leaving her to her own devices. She didn’t even know about Robespierre or Richard.

    “Two.”

    This wasn’t her fault. Rain couldn’t destroy what might be a good, possibly great career of a kind young woman for that of ex-dead Frenchman.

    Sorry Robespierre. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes and it looks like you’ve lost the day.

    “On-.”

    “Call your boots off. I’ll do it,” Rain snapped.

    For a moment it looked like Chikara was going to do it anyway, but she pressed her communicator and ordered, “Abandon your target.”

    Rain sighed and flexed her hands.

    “Alright, you have what you want. Now take these cuffs off. I can’t very well find out how to destroy someone with my hands bound now can I?”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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