Chapter 30: Pawning Off Responsibility
His hand touched someone's shoulder when a beep resounded. Although disconnected in part, his HUD could still inform him of any developments. And one such development was outside the door to his office now. He sighed, wondering if the world conspired to push him along without a chance to catch his breath. Once he left the residential scraper, it felt like one thing after another would thrust itself upon him.
He'd planned to ask this someone a few things, given they finally became talkative. And this would be their last meeting, which made his curiosity burn all the fiercer. He had a list longer than his arm of things he wanted answers for and needed answers to. Some were trivial, some were crucial to humanity's survival. And as one of humanity, he should have given voice to those thoughts that held humanity's future in mind.
Then again, he always was a bit of a selfish prick. "Before you go…my daughter. I want to know. Will she live?"
Someone tilted their neck, bending their head lower and lower past what should be possible for a human. When they began to strain, when the head was well past the breastbone, he heard a pop. They straightened and unhurriedly unfolded their legs. Upon standing, they left behind a patch of black fluid where they sat, but it was beneath his consideration.
He fought to keep the tension from bending his body as someone stepped close, the buzzing yellow eyes imprinting themselves into his peripherals. Was that why he was losing his vision? Too much time spent around this strange character? Someone placed an arm--the stump--on his shoulder, offering a fluid shrug that didn't match. "I…would…not…know…yet…and…if…I…did…telling…you…would…be…a…mistake…"
He knew better than to push his inquiry, stepping back. The stump leaked more black fluid, staining his coat and running down the skinsuit underneath. He peeled the wet, sticky cloth away from his form while studying someone. Tool. He couldn't wrap his head around so many things about this person. Then again, were they a person, in the human sense? He received another notice from his HUD. "You should go."
He stepped aside, allowing Tool to make their way to the door. Each step held finality, burdened with unknowable weight and unrestrained vigor. Passing by his desk, Tool gave the open medical kit a sidelong glance, as if considering the earlier offered liquid sun. They were still dripping from the wound packed into their armpit. He could tell it'd become infected before long.
"Child…when…the…time…comes…I…hope…death…will…be…a…painless…experience…" They stopped in front of the door, tapping the surface with their remaining blade. Even though they lacked the credentials and identifiable material to open it, it slid back. Instead of a surprised officer or some serviceman on the other side, a hall of the fifteenth floor behind them, there was yellow, the same smoldering shade in Tool's eyes. He struggled to keep his eyes on the silhouette bordered by the shifting before surrendering and turning away, massaging throbbing eyelids. And even with his eyes off it, being in the presence of the unexplainable phenomenon was enough to spread the pain from his eyes to his skull. It felt like an Aud was sitting on him, squeezing him into a paste. "You…more…than…any…of…your...predecessors…deserve…so…little…"
The other side of the office fell silent, and the door closed. He sucked in a fresh burst of air, feeling the alien throbbing recede from his body in reverse, first from his skull, and then his eyes. When he was free of it, he opened his eyes, turning back to observe the splotches on the floor and couch. He looked down, rolling the other end of the stump Tool left behind. Already, he had a few ideas for what to do with the blade, but the discarded blood and flesh could be useful as well. He would--
A third time, the HUD reminded him of a visitor. "I know, I know. Have some patience, will you?" Grunting, he crossed the office and opened the door, expecting to see the canvas of splotchy yellow behind it a second time. What awaited him was what should've awaited Tool when it opened the door: one of his men behind it, the beginnings of impatience showing as he raised his fist to knock. "Nice to see you, Ni-6."
Ni-6 schooled his face while the door was opening, morphing back into the role of a proper serviceman of humanity. "Morning, sir. How was the walk here?" He leaned around his superior, looking into the office. "Were you meeting with someone? You answer the first time." Yes, he typically did, but there were exceptions. There were always exceptions.
He stepped aside, letting Ni-6 enter. The younger man had a keen eye for details and things others would pass by or discard as unimportant; he reserved no surprise when Ni-6 located the blood stains on the floor. Others would've had trouble discerning anything out of place at a glance--his floors were dark and covered in synthetic carpeting, the same as the couch. The younger between them crouched down, letting his fingers slide across the floor before withdrawing. He studied the different drop patterns before looking up.
"Sir, was there--sir!" He darted up faster than an electric beam, disregarding protocol to touch his superior's coat. "Is all this yo--yours? What happened? No, forget that, let me get you--"
Overactive and hyperactive as always. His words mingled with a chuckle as he grabbed ahold of his subordinate's arms, firm and gentle. "I assure you, I'd be as panicked as you if that was the case."
"Then…" Another thing he liked about Ni-6 was that his observational skills weren't the only thing he brought to the table. The details were useless without a keen mind to draw meaning from, and thankfully, Ni-6 did not lack the appropriate mental faculties. He released the coat and returned to a formal pose, shaking his head subtly. "No, I apologize for stepping beyond my role, sir. Will you want the same treatment for your office as three weeks ago?"
"Not entirely." He removed his coat and handed it to Ni-6. "I want you to call in someone from the Sixth. Tell them whatever reason you want, but I want them to collect all the foreign matter staining my coat and the contents of the office. Have them process what they find for analysis, and compile a report after if there's anything we can do with it." He was no scientist--his role didn't call for such knowledge. Even then, he was sure something as exotic as blood coming from a being like Tool should yield exciting results. He would willingly bet many things on this sureness.
"And that too. Deliver it yourself, without anyone aside from them seeing you, if you can. Tell them to compile the same results, but not to disassemble the blade." He pointed to the stump and attached blade, which he'd discarded on his desk. Ni-6's mouth quivered, and someone as observant as him wasn't needed to tell he had quite the number of questions to ask. The only reason he hadn't noticed the biggest abnormality in the room was where he'd positioned the desk, out of sight for anyone immediately entering. But his duty came first, and his lips sealed themselves, almost on instinct. He nodded, snapping into a smart salute before going rigid, and accessing his HUD.
That reminded him to reconnect to his own, snapping the connective nerves back into place. There; his HUD could see what he saw and hear what he heard again. Ni-6 approached the stump, apprehensive with his movements.
"I've already handled it myself. It isn't dangerous…aside from the blade." His subordinate picked it up, confirming the information for himself before turning back.
"I can take care of your office and…assets, sir. But you should go to the Chamber of Meet."
"Hmm?"
"You hadn't arrived when the heads assembled to open the session, so I came here. A couple issues need discussing; the majority are items concerning the Second."
"But there aren't any sessions scheduled today. My HUD--"
"Sorry, sir. Representatives of the Second, Fourth, Fifth, and Seventh decided it sometime yesterday."
"Energy budget concerns?"
"Energy budget concerns."
Of course. Even when things worked well enough, there were always those unhappy with that. Optimize this, make that more efficient, tie that over there down with better management. For all the rigidity and the hard nature of the First Ray, it at least didn't experiment when there was no need to. It stuck to what sustained its activities and didn't ask for more than it deserved. It didn't pursue more than it needed.
His hand found its way to his forehead, where it massaged some of the old creases. Newer ones formed daily, it seemed, and the older ones were due for more permanent company some time. "Will they raise anything new in that area, at least?"
"I couldn't say, sir. You'd have to attend to figure that out." Ni-6 wasn't wrong, but his stomach twisted itself into knots all the same at the thought of facing all the administratively inclined heads and data pushers at the top of the Directory. It might've been insulting for someone else to hear this about themselves, but he had no illusions about his capabilities: he was a soldier and a strategist. That was all. He felt right at home with the majority of the servicemen under the First Ray, but all the others beyond his purview were too detail-oriented and concerned with the small and big picture alike. Kind of like Ni-6, who at least could pilot a WAV better than most.
Ni-6 was looking at him, light annoyance twisting his features. He must've been standing there too long. "Fine, fine, I'm going."
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