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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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  • The Last Vow 1/6/2026

    January 6th, 2026
    • The last vow

    Salai and Eleonore laying on the ground. Salai had a bottle of mead next to his elbow, Eleonore had a bottle of strong red wine. They were both staring up at the ceiling, a projection of stars above them. Rather than being static it moved in a gentle spiral, stars appearing and disappearing. Eleonore took a sip of her wine, a red drop spilling over her cheek and into her dark brown hair.

    “I’ve been thinking, about what we should do.”

    Salai grunted, eyes hazy.

    “I’ve been thinking about what to do for Maxime,” she whispered. It was first time she’d used his private name since she’d been in this place. The first time she’d used it with Salai.

    “I think I want to bring him back. In this one,” she muttered and waved a hand at the stars over head. It collapsed limply back to her chest.

    Salai rolled his eyes over to her, where she was still staring up at the sky. The not-real sky. Tears followed the same path the wine had, dripping back into her hair.

    “What do you mean, bring back?”

    Bring back another dead person already!

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  • Kiss Under Red Moons

    January 5th, 2026

    Finn leaned forward, hands interlaced. He tilted his head to study the painting in front of him. It was competently done, no, expertly done. It featured two figures on a hazy bridge, the lighting done in the silver light of the moon. The bridge over the river was the only solid looking object, everything else hazy as though it was wrapped in a funeral shroud of the thinnest cloth. The men were out of focus, the metaphorical lens of the viewing camera was smeared in petroleum oil. They were pressed close and while Finn couldn’t make out the details, he knew one of them must have been Eleonore’s lost love. She stood beside the painting, one hand clasped over the other.

    “Well?” She prompted him after a bit.

    Finn looked up at her. “And this is the start, isn’t it?”

    https://bsky.app/profile/jcrycolr3wradc.bsky.social

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  • Letters Never Sent 1/3/2026

    January 3rd, 2026

    Maestro

    This is something Ene suggested, speaking my thoughts out loud and the device she gave me writes it for me. I can only imagine how useful something like this would have been for you. She does say that at some point she will show me how to write. Something you never got around to, maestro…

    I am stuck here with an annoying french wench named Eleonore. She was on about helping to kill a king and the man she failed to marry was beheaded with his lover? She isn’t without talent. She paints well, but all the same subject. If that was her man, then I truly do not know what she pines for. As for me, I cannot paint at all.

    It would please you, I suppose, to know you are well thought of. People know your name, your works. Not your inventions but your paintings. The ones that were finished anyway. I’m sorry, that sounded bitter. I am trying to speak nicely to you, maestro. Hardly matters however, with your death. Still.

    (A long silence ensues.)

    I was given a choice when I died. Ene came to me and told me I could still make a difference. She told me I could live forever, here in this strange place with these strange people. I knew it was what you would have done. But now that i am here I find myself resenting it. Why do I continue to try to honor you? You never even taught me to write! Perhaps that is my issue with Eleonore. She reminds me of our agreement, Leonardo. What is the purpose of holding true to a dead man?

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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

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  • Lines 1/1/2026

    January 1st, 2026

    A/N: This is Eleonore Duplay – lived during the French Revolution of 1789 and Gian Giacomo known as Salai – who lived and worked with Leonardo da Vinci. After being offered a choice at the moment of their respective deaths, they have come to a strange in between realm under the guardianship of a Irishman name Finn O’Reilly and Ene. Tasked with creating “things” in the words of Ene, they now try to spend their time trying not to kill one another.

    “This is stupid,” Salai hissed. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you.”

    Eleonore ignored him. She’d had younger siblings all her life, including one little brother who was very much like Salai. She instead focused on her painting, the scene coming to her in a vivid wash of color. Two figures in a cave. Or not them, but their shadows, the light streaming in from the mouth of the cave.

    “That’s not what the shadows would look like,” Salai interrupted her concentration again. “You’re making it too intense for the strength of the light. There aren’t any lines like that in life, you know.” He sniffed in superiority.

    Eleonore’s brush stopped for a moment as she gritted her teeth together.

    “I know. But art isn’t real life, is it?” she asked, her tone as mild as milk.

    Salai, this loathsome brat she’d been saddled with, scoffed. “It isn’t. But it should be an accurate reflection, shouldn’t it?”

    Eleonore looked at him, an eyebrow raising in surprise. That was the first hint he’d shown of something other than shallow enjoyment of anything. His relaxed posture on the chaise lounge, flipping through a magazine and eating the new dessert that Finn had brought back for them to try—layers of thin pastry and honey, topped with nuts. She watched as a sticky string of honey dripped off the fork.

    Salai’s cultivated nonchalance regarding their new position made her want to hit him. She’d never struck her siblings in life, even when they deliberately tried to bother her. Her even temper had been one of the things she and her father had shared. One of the things that made Maximilien value her company.

    She took a slow breath and set down her brush.

    “Do you mean that art should reflect the life an artist perceives? Or do you mean that art should be real life?”

    Salai took another bite of his dessert, sucking the fork free of honey. His eyes rolled as he thought. “I think that art should be a reflection of what the artist sees. Or maybe what they also want to see.” He frowned. “But it should look like real life. And there are no lines in real life.”

    “But then how do we show more than just that one moment? How do we show who a person is, what they want? Art can’t just look like real life,” Eleonore said, thinking about David’s La Mort de Marat. “And lines are a part of life too.” She pointed at the door. “What do you call the boundary between a wall and the edge of a door?”

    “The subject should tell the story,” Salai snapped at her. “What does a woman know of art anyway?”

    Eleonore snorted. “You clearly weren’t paying attention to when El introduced us. I was trained as an artist in life.”

    Salai stared at her. Ate another bite of the dessert. “Were you any good? Have any patrons?”

    “No,” she returned with a distasteful curl of her lip. “But I would imagine that you wouldn’t understand the concept of working for oneself.”

    Salai sat up. “And what do you mean by that?”

    Eleonore raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. Only that you are remembered for being an eternal apprentice.” She turned from him.

    “Well, at least I’m not remembered for being unsuccessful in marrying a man,” Salai snapped before storming out the door, which slammed behind him.

    • Bluesky

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  • Season Two. Episode Twenty-Four: Cue the Applause.

    July 2nd, 2020

    It was without a doubt the best rooms William had ever been given by a patron before. Everything was in plush velvet, rich furs of bears, tigers and lions and silk table runners.

    “The boss wants you two to be as comfortable as possible,” said the chippy little man who had taken Will and his companion to the rooms. They had walked barefooted through empty marble halls, though Will was sure he could hear distant laughing and speaking.

    “How very considerate!” Said his companion, a tall man with long and dark hair. His accent was not purely English however. “Perhaps we will now be allowed to find out why we are here?”

    The little man laughed. “To write for the Boss! He’ll come by soon enough when he comes up with what he wants, but until then,” he bowed, “he’d like you to sit back and relax.” The man winked. “There are menus on those shelves should you want anything. An-ee-thing.” He winked again and Will almost rolled his eyes.

    (more…)

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

    May 29th, 2020

    Over the next few days Leonardo noticed a distinct shift in the mood of the castle.

    “Fencing?” He repeated when Aspen told them at breakfast.

    She nodded. “Yeah. Sword fighting for practice. It’s great for your reflexes and flexibility.” She took a bite of her breakfast, pieces of sugared wheat and dried fruit in milk. “Probably strength too, if you use heavy swords.”

    “Will you be teaching us?” Napoleon asked, casting a dubious look over Aspen.

    She shook her head. “I never learned. It’ll be Kami.”

    Leonardo frowned. “I do not approve of violence in that way.” He shook his head. “I do not want to fence.”

    “No one will make you, don’t worry Leo.” Aspen smiled at him then glanced at his breakfast: coffee. “But uh, you should definitely have something other than that. Otherwise Russo might make you eat that cup, too.”

    (more…)

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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…)

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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…)

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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…)

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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…)

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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…)

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

    April 3rd, 2020

    PART THREE

    “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kami said quietly.

    “No.”

    “No, you’re not sure?”

    Aspen sighed and rubbed her forehead. “No, I’m positive this is a terrible idea. The number of things that can go wrong is ridiculous. But I swore to Magpie I was going to go along with this.”

    She was walking Kami and Harmony out to the transporter point. They were preparing to go pick up Cherry for the holiday break and then onto the interstellar travel depot to go to the Martian colony. The flyer was nearly prepared for its slow mission disguised a piece of junk. They had the information from Julia about the security rounds on the Bastille.

    Everything was in place, but Aspen still felt a horrible sense of unease. She was sleeping poorly, expecting Chikara Haruka and Marie Rivera to break open the door of her condo and arrest her. Probably hide her on the Bastille like they did with Robespierre and leave her forgotten in the dark.

    Aspen shivered and rolled her shoulders back, looking over her shoulder. Middleham was shrouded in mist, a light layer of snow and frost covering the stiffened and dead grass.

    Kami touched her hand. “You don’t have to, you know. You can get out of here too.”

    Aspen shook her head. “I gave my word.”

    “Are we ready to go, love?” Harmony asked gently. “You’ll take care, Aspen?”

    Kami walked over to the console with Harmony. She waved for a moment, face still pinched and then they were both gone. Aspen sighed and stood there for a long moment before finally about-facing to head back to the castle.

    (more…)

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

    March 27th, 2020

    Leonardo cursed as he cut his hand on yet another piece of jagged metal. He withdrew it and examined the slice that ran along his palm.

    “Careful,” Harmony admonished, distractedly. “The dermal regenerator is on the table.”

    Leonardo slid out from under the ship and rolled to his feet, staggering slightly. He put a hand up to his head. It felt slightly fuzzy and Leonardo shook to clear it.

    He picked the regenerator and examined it. It was simply a metal wand, with a flat panel. Leonardo placed the panel over the cut, which was still bleeding sluggishly. He pressed the button on the top and the small machine lit up blue and hummed. Leonardo hissed as he could feel his skin knit back together. After a moment, he took it away. All that was a left was a thin pink line.

    Leonardo adored the future.

    He yawned as he turned back to the ship. Aspen Strong was on top of the flyer, using a laser tool to mold two pieces of metal to the top. It was blackened and already punctured with holes.

    “I can’t believe I have to do this to my ship. This is butchery,” she muttered.

    “It’s the Federation’s ship, Aspen,” Harmony said. He stood and stretched. “I need to go check in with Kami and Mags. Do you want anything?”

    “Coffee,” Leonardo said.

    Aspen looked at him sharply. “Have you had any water today, Leo?”

    Leonardo cocked his head. “No. Why would I?”

    (more…)

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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…)

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

    February 28th, 2020

    PART THREE.

    Richard longed for a paper book.

    The slick glass tablets, thin a piece of parchment, did not hold the same feeling of satisfaction as holding a page and turning it to reveal the next. The slippery action of sliding his fingers along the screen was too fast, too immaterial.

    Richard did take solace in the fact that there now there was much more to read, indeed more than he ever thought he could read if given another ten lifetimes, but bitterly longed for paper.

    He’d remained in his room, today. The atmosphere of the castle was distinctly cold since the discussion of Robespierre. Leonardo had been his usual distant self, only conversing with the guards and the staff in tense, quiet tones. Bonaparte, too, had been quiet, reading and mumbling to himself in a corner of the solar lounging in a chair with his feet to the fire.

    Richard had no desire to speak to this self proclaimed Emperor of the French. He did not seek out the company of Leonardo. He felt the quiet disdain of the staff and guards. Richard, as he had for so much of his life, had no company but himself.

    He sat in his room and studied the grounds instead. The weather had stripped the leaves from the trees and he felt that there was snow on the way. Richard had noticed that it seemed to roll in harshly, unexpectedly. He shuddered. Were the seasons not even a constant he could depend on, anymore?

    (more…)

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

    November 7th, 2019

    Leonardo didn’t know what to think anymore. It was…unnerving.

    This evening’s revelations had left everyone subdued. Richard had left for the chapel, where he spent most of his time and Napoleon left for Harmony’s office, muttering something about world war.

    Leonardo was left alone in his room, his hands and mind restless. He considered seeking out Jerome but discarded it the idea immediately. Jerome hadn’t even looked at him as he left the grand hall this evening, distracted by his sister in trouble.

    So Leonardo paced the floor and thought.

    Robespierre was imprisoned and apparently injured. The Bastille, the moon prison that Napoleon had been so certain was destroyed, was impregnatable. That sounded like a likely place to start. He took up the small electric tablet and laboriously typed in Bastille.

    The moon prison was the most prominent result. Examining it, Leonardo did have to reluctantly admit that it seemed to be impossible to either escape or board. It reminded him of a large, segmented tube. There were few windows to the darkness outside of the Bastille and no doors. Leonardo gathered that to gain access you would need to dock on some unseen portal. He begrudgingly admitted this seemed reasonable. If you were a suspicious prince you would want to disguise the entrance, just to make it less appetizing to attack.

    (more…)

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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…)

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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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