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English
Series:
Part 2 of Devil's Requiem
Collections:
Fandom Diversity Fest Reflection and Regret
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Published:
2025-07-31
Words:
2,100
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1/1
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56
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27
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127

Parasite

Summary:

On a peaceful night on the Kukai Foundation, Gaignun is haunted by disjointed memories of the Third Descent Operation.

Notes:

Written for the r/FanfictionExchange Reflection and Regret fest.

Work Text:

In the fading glow of the Kukai Foundation's artificial twilight the lights of the rooftop garden switched on. Gaignun looked past the far railing and watched the stars brighten beyond the dome. There was a scent of mock oranges coming from somewhere behind him. A lingering aroma of lemon and dill from the table in front of him was a counterpoint to the floral smell. Across from him Jr. was leaning back in his chair, sipping the last of his coffee with his eyes closed.

Gaignun looked his brother over. Without his coat on Jr. was noticeably small and thin, and Gaignun wondered if they might be due for a week or two at the beach house; Jr. had a tendency to wear himself down.

I'm fine, Jr. assured him, one blue eye opening part way. You only think I'm too thin because you haven't seen me in a month. Maybe you're the one getting too big: staying on our prosperous colony, gaining weight on cream cheese bagels and shrimp scampi. Yeah, I think next time you ought to command the Durandal on its next mission and I'll stay here and put my feet up. He cradled the empty cup against his middle.

Gaignun snorted. “Sounds good to me,” he replied aloud. “You can initial reports all day and keep the section chiefs from going at each other's throats.”

“You still having problems with Ecology and Public Safety?”

“Mm. Those two don't see eye to eye. In fact I think they'd shoot each other in the back—” something flickered in Gaignun's mind, a starburst of light in a dark place; he reached for his own cup but didn't sip from it “—if they could.”

For a moment he couldn't smell the mock orange anymore, the stars and city lights now so many sparks. He'd run, gunning down any standard unit he came in contact with. He couldn't let them slow him down. He had to find—. There was mock orange again, the still night around him and the remnants of dinner on the table. And a blank space in his mind.

“Hey,” Jr. said, sitting upright now.

“Sorry. I swear the recent bickering is giving me war flashbacks.” Gaignun hoped Jr. would take it for a joke.

No luck: Jr. didn't crack a smile. Instead his gaze became more focused. “Maybe we both need that week at the beach.”

It was always indirect, always a dance. They never spoke of Miltia openly, the subject only coming up in rare, brief allusions. Even now Gaignun was having trouble acknowledging the memory of the dark and the running, the screams and the gunshots and his own elevated heartbeat—the searching. But he couldn't be wholly here, either, on this peaceful roof atop their home. The dark kept calling him back.

“Nigredo—” Jr.’s voice was soft but Gaignun cut him off.

“Not that name. I won't be that person any more,” Gaignun insisted.

“Yeah, we both want to put that behind us. But you were the best of us, you know. I'm glad they got to us in time.”

Gaignun hid a wince. The dark was back in his head, more clearly defined this time; he tried to focus on something else—Jr., the greenery, the red spire of the Durandal in the distance—but there was nothing that offered an escape route from his memories.

For another moment Jr. stared at him, then he shifted around in his chair and pulled his connection gear from the coat slung over the back of his chair. It's okay. Let it be a bad night. I'm right here. He started playing a game, but his mind was open. In case.

Thank God for Jr., who knew when he was needed even if there was nothing to say. Gaignun's own mind was closed, with him trapped in it.

* * *

Gaignun's memories of Miltia were never distinct, instead dissolving and overriding each other. He saw the streets of Dasgupta, or the utilitarian interior of the Song of Nephilim. There were no intermediate areas.

Albedo laughing. Albedo half charred, caught in the vortex of Rubedo's power. The standard URTVs left helpless against the thing they were meant to destroy. Rubedo losing control when Albedo tried to hide in Rubedo's mind, only to bring the taint of U-DO with him. The images came like photographs, in no clear order.

Rubedo running.

Outside then. Gaignun couldn't remember taking the stairs, but logic said he must have, up and up to ground level. He had to catch up with Rubedo. How had Rubedo gotten so far ahead? Gaignun had been right behind him.

Rifle in his hands. He was so tired. He hurt everywhere. The weapon was a prop, his own legs insufficient to hold him up. The blast hit him and he went down nose first against the metal walkway. Blood on his nose and mouth, a tooth broken and dully agonizing.

Night air and smoke. He tried to stay out of open spaces, away from enemies, who were everyone now. Being small helped. So did being able to hypnotize people, but that took focus. Better to avoid attention. So he watched for muted purple uniforms, and tan-and-black. And smaller uniforms, too, in light blue. Like his own.

A rupture of energy, and the abrupt cessation of laughter. Gaignun running for the stairs.

He found a rifle on a dead Federation soldier, and one magazine. Blue uniforms ahead. They couldn't be allowed to keep living, not when they were contaminated. He shot them both in the back.

Rain washed the blood away.

Albedo floated over him, held aloft by something outside of comprehension, his feet settling on the walkway a moment later. Gaignun had been unable to avoid the boot tip aimed at his ribs. Another kick; he was rolled onto his stomach. Something slammed into the small of his back, but he lacked the breath to scream.

There were twelve of them, ranged around the chasm where U-DO's energy was gathered. To his right Rubedo issued orders while beyond him Albedo trembled. To his left the standard URTVs made ready to carry out their mission. A ring of blue light appeared at the ends of their outstretched fingertips. His own mind buzzed fitfully, insulated against U-DO's infection.

He was out of bullets now, but he kept the rifle anyway. He ran across a wide boulevard, aiming for a side street half a block up. Rubedo was that way. He thought. His homing sense was erratic. He couldn't afford to let the others hear his mind, so he'd closed it off. Another standard unit ahead. He thought it should be dead. It complied.

It took a while for the standard URTVs' minds to break completely, after U-DO infected them at the edge of the pit it was contained in. They were aimless for that first minute or so, the room silent except for Albedo's laughter. There was still time to do something.

Executioner. The word was accompanied by another kick. Gaignun's ears rang. He wasn't what Albedo said. He wouldn't be.

The rain came down, drenching everything. Rubedo's mind was a wall. Gaignun still pummeled at it. Rubedo needed to be warned, needed to stay away. Gaignun needed a weapon. And to hide. He was too close, the top of the Song a wide expanse behind him. He could get lost in the city.

Rubedo cutting the link. Eleven identical, juvenile faces staring in helpless horror. The energy coming to stun the standards one by one, shattering their minds in the process. Albedo frozen in place while Rubedo began to understand the enormity of his mistake.

The Song ahead of him again. Rubedo was out there somewhere. Gaignun let him be lost; it was safer that way. Gaignun had killed all the infected standard units. There was one left to dispose of. He could do it. If he was made to kill Rubedo he could kill Albedo. Down and down, back to the start.

* * *

Back in the garden. A breeze had picked up, carrying the mock orange scent with it. Gaignun drew in a long, slow breath, trying to erase the phantom odors of blood and sweat and smoke from his mind.

He stood and went to the railing, looking down at Sector 1 spread out below him. There was the shuttle dock on the edge of the circular lake that acted as the Durandal's berth. There was the visitors' center. There was the museum, the theater, all the stores and restaurants that could afford to rent space at the heart of the Foundation, so near the Durandal.

It was a beautiful view, but he felt numb looking at it. He'd had a lot to do with making it happen. It was good that chaos and Canaan had found them in time. He told himself that, every day.

That he'd been right to try to survive.

* * *

The blast hit him in the right side; he went tumbling down a ladderwell, hitting every rung on the way down. His rifle followed, striking him just below the ribs and causing blood and saliva to explode from his lips.

“Come to snuff me out Executioner?” Albedo's voice, echoing off the walls.

Gaignun'd never tried using hypnosis on another variant. Now was a hell of a time for a test run. He was banking on it working.

He didn't remember it taking so long to get to the base of the Song the first time. His heart thudded out of sync. The world was pain and rage and fear that came in waves and beat at his mind.

No, he wouldn't let that out. Even if his duty was a parasite he wouldn't fulfill it. Hadn't fulfilled it. He refused to kill Rubedo even if he went out of control. Rubedo was the Leader; Gaignun refused to be disloyal. But Albedo was different. He'd been infected and needed to be neutralized. If Gaignun could find the will.

“—who you're meant to kill.”

Albedo's presence was everywhere. Gaignun fought to retain his sense of self. He needed to burn the world so the dragon would burn him and do a proper job this time. But first there was the adder that threatened his twin.

Stumbling back upwards, someone's arm around him. The world was dim. His legs gave out and he heard, “Nigredo!”

Focus. Focus. Not his hate. Not his twin. Albedo's.

“I'll kill you if you touch him.”

Everything hurt. His knees felt like fire. Only the rifle kept him upright. “Stay still.” He flung the suggestion where the maelstrom of Albedo's emotions seemed strongest. All it got him was laughter.

He was on the floor, nose pressed to steel. A hard kick at his ribs turned him onto his back. Albedo loomed over him. Albedo said, “You have a parasite, you know. He's just waiting to come out.”

Fresh air on his face, and cold rain. It stung him but he didn't care. He thought he saw red hair, like Rubedo's.

He stared up and saw the sole of Albedo's left boot. There was a crunch as it connected with Gaignun's sternum. He wanted to die. He hated that he couldn't die. Rubedo had almost done the job when he'd burned him in half. He stomped on himself again. He'd never let their father's agent near Rubedo.

There were arms under him, carrying him. They were thin and trembling. “It's all right Rubedo. Let it . . . go.” Albedo was right. Gaignun was the one who could lose control. Gaignun was the dangerous one.

He thought he could hear Rubedo's mind again. Stay away, Gaignun tried to say as Albedo's boot connected a third time. As the world faded to a pinpoint something welled up inside him, a mass of agony that burst forth. He heard a thud, then a silence, which became as absolute as the darkness.

* * *

Gaignun heard quiet cheering behind him: Rubedo had beaten another level.

He turned and looked at his older brother, who still looked like the children they'd all been that day. It was a long way behind them now. Things were much better now. They were the ones who chose their battles these days.

It was good that Rubedo had found him and taken him outside, where chaos and Canaan had found them in turn. Being alive and living in peace was good.

But sometimes he remembered the parasite inside him that had lashed out when he thought Albedo had killed him, and knew he wasn't really safe. And then he regretted not bleeding out in the rain.

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