Ravana's Shadow (32)

The Institute was no stranger to parties. Even before Kit took the Director's office, she attended her fair share. On a planet with no other civilization, where nothing had happened for over ten thousand years, it was up to them to create their own events worth commemorating.

There was nothing artificial about the Neophyte's launch party. Today the Institute's public areas overflowed with citizens—only the truly reclusive kids hadn't taken time away from their responsibilities to see them off.

At Jay's order, drones had moved the complete Neophyte statue down from the top floor of the atrium to the multipurpose room area at the bottom, then constructed the buffet around it.

The occasion might have been the single most important social gathering of the Institute's history, but Kit had almost nothing to do with it. Jay had organized everything, along with the other members of his new "Interim Supervisory Committee." 

They'd done good work. Each floor had exhibits, diagrams, and models, showing the different systems they'd created over the last year, sharing the mission plan, or identifying the members of the crew and what they would be doing.

Kit shuffled in through the top floor, keeping her tail as low to the ground as she could. With the tail down, she would be far harder to identify, at least from a glance.

It kept her covert enough to slip into the back of the top display, showing the route of the Neophyte using a realistic model and some glowing threads. She settled into the back, next to a girl with some of the largest ears in the Institute.

Somehow Maddie had found the time to record the voiceovers for the display, because it was her voice echoing from speakers at the front. "The first stage separates here, just before its fuel is depleted. Attitude thrusters direct it to fall back to Mara about fifty kilometers from the Institute, where it can be collected and recycled."

The model demonstrated, with the largest section of rocket disconnecting, changing direction from the remaining section.

"The second stage provides delta-v to escape Mara's gravity well and accelerate towards Ravana. This is also the final opportunity for abort; once Ravana insertion burn begins, the Neophyte no longer has the delta-v required to return. From then on, we're completing the mission no matter what!

“Separation with the second stage takes place—"

The girl next to Kit finally saw her. She glanced over her shoulder, then stiffened abruptly. Her ears went from halfway folded to sharply upright, both hands in front of her. "Squirrel? Thought you'd be packing or something."

She grinned weakly. "Everything except the suit is already on the Neophyte." She gestured around the room, down towards the railing. "I'm not going to see my friends again for a year, maybe more. There's nowhere else I want to be."

"Friends." The bat folded both arms, retreating from Kit. "Talk like that all you want, but it doesn't change the facts. We're all just... cogs. We do what Forerunner tells us; we don't get to choose."

Kit raised her tail behind her, backing out of the way of a fresh group of kids. This high-level mission plan was the first exhibit in the room, and the first place many would begin. Nor could Kit easily hide her identity, in a community where everyone knew everyone else. 

"Forerunner didn't tell me to do this mission," she said. A little louder than she had to just to be heard by Sarah, but she wasn't the only one listening. "He left the choice to me, and I decided based on the advice of the Institute's experts. I wasn't forced."

Sarah grunted and took another step back from her. "If you say so. Doesn't really feel like I have much choice since waking up. That first time we talked; I was so jealous. You had safety, you had food and comfort and everything else. But what you don't have is a choice."

She spun in place, looking nervously around the room. "You can ask them! See how many people would fight Forerunner in here. It's nobody, because everyone does what he wants. He's the real boss." She folded her arms, puffing out her chest. That gesture worked a little better when she was older. Now it just made her look silly.

"Fight him?" asked the nearest kid—Rich. He'd been taking notes about one of the exhibits on his tablet, but now he tucked it away, staring at her. "What a crazy thing to say, new girlkid. Fight the windows while you're at it, or maybe the air purifiers. Go three rounds bare-knuckled with the algae farm." He shook his head, then hopped off the edge into the pit of foam blocks on the floor below.

Kit sighed, glaring after him. True or not, that didn't make what he said terribly helpful. And now Kit was going to be gone, beyond the reach of providing any help.

She took a single step closer and took one of Sarah's hands in hers. "I know how you feel. I had those same thoughts when I first woke up. I was so sure Forerunner had everyone enslaved, feeding them lies."

And I was right, I just miscalculated the why.

"And you just gave it all up, is that right? Been here before, Kit. Seen the way the deer tries to talk me down." She pulled her hand free, then took another step back. "Just shut up. Go on your mission, maybe save the day, maybe die in space. Guess you better hope the AI still wants you." 

She stalked off, leaving the kids on the top floor staring in stunned silence.

Kit made her way to the edge of the balcony. She could take the dignified ramp around the outside, or maybe even the elevator—but the Institute’s designer knew what they were doing. It was too much fun to jump down into a giant foam pit.

Kit landed with a loud thump, scattering chunks of foam from around her. She shuffled forward, to where someone waited by the edge to help her up. Sadie.

The cat might be an 80% template now, but she had all the same upgrades Kit did, and could lift her with ease. She flung back, lifting Kit briefly off her feet before depositing her a second later. Being the same template percentage did make her less intimidating, but she was still a few inches taller. The benefit of being predator instead of prey.

"Heard there was a little drama with your backup, Director. Nightmares?"

Emma wouldn't tell anyone about that. Their doctor would respect her privacy, Emma always did! Her assistant, though—maybe not as well. "Maybe a software glitch. But it's over now."

"I hope so." She folded both arms, looking Kit over. The middle level had few people compared to the top or bottom—there weren't exhibits down here, and the usual cafe space was less interesting than the buffet on the bottom.

The only other kids on this section were the rare few taking turns in the little games. "In ancient times, humans used to take their dreams very seriously. They thought we could sometimes tell the future when we slept."

Kit giggled. "Maybe in times that were ancient even when I was born. Besides, I don't think what I saw was a prediction. More like a...." What, exactly? A psychotic break? A hacking attempt? A transmission from outside the Institute? "Hint. That maybe we don't understand the backup process as well as we think."

Sadie grinned. "Don't tell your mouse that. He'll be offended."

"He's not mine." Kit took one step towards her, lowering her voice. "He's my assistant. And he's been a lifesaver. I never could've done this job without him."

"Bet you're gonna miss him a lot when we go, aren't you?"

Kit nodded reluctantly. It was probably exactly what Sadie wanted—but it was also the truth. "Course. I made lots of good friends since you woke me up here in the Institute. But he was the first one."

Maybe they could've been something more—if Kit could figure out what. No number of times wondering provided the answer. She could reach for some memories, but not others. Shame Dalton hadn't come on the Aether mission. He could've reminded her.

"And now he'll be the Director," Sadie said. "At last, he'll know what he's doing. The citizen I would really want is still in the basement getting therapy."

No, she isn't. She'll be sleeping in the bedroom next to you, just with a different name. The other members of the Ravana expedition would probably find out about Wren sooner or later. The "mysterious stranger from the first generation" worked well enough in the Institute, where she could always retreat into parts unknown when people grew too familiar with her.

There would be no retreating on this mission. For the next three months, none of them would be more than 50 meters away from any other.

"I still don't think we needed a soldier," Sadie went on. "Don't tell Chase. He's just gonna be wasting his time."

"What makes you say that?"

Sadie patted her firmly on the shoulder. "You negotiated this far. If anything weird happens, I'm sure you can work it out."

Unless this is a trap. They still didn't know what had destroyed the Ravana colony, not really. They didn't know what role Garrick had played in that tragedy, or what he did with most of his time.

He could claim he was making repairs and improving his long-term outlook all he liked. But if he was filling Ravana's corpse with a thousand deadly weapons, they wouldn't know until they got there.

"I plan on it," Kit said. "I want every survivor he has frozen to get to join the Institute. I want Garrick to join us too, even if he's a jerk. The backup is just there to make sure that everyone keeps their promises, you’ll be glad we have it."

Sadie released her hand. "I hope not. I want to be standing right back here, looking down on the Institute. Everyone will be here; except he won't be a wolf. Maybe a different kinda mouse? Something to teach him humility."

Kit grinned. They were yet to have any specific conversation about what joining the Institute would mean. Everything Garrick said suggested he had no intention of ever submitting to the Institute's templates, or its restrictions on age. Even so, he had to know how little control he would have once they were back on Mara, and the Ravana colony had formally surrendered.

"Don't tell him that when we get there. Best thing for everyone here is Garrick not thinking about that part. He knows we're waking his people up; he can see what they look like when they get out of the fabricator."

Sadie folded her arms. "That feels... dishonest!"

Kit backed away from her, towards the slide leading down. The lowest level was always too crowded to make for a safe jump. There was a slide now, taking the place of the oversized trampoline. The turns were sharp enough to be fun, transforming the short distance into a rush of motion—if you were 80%. Those curves would make full templates get caught, making the trip a tedious, squeaky crawl through plastic. 

Naturally that meant Kit shot out the end, tumbling over herself on the padded mat waiting at the bottom. 

That space was clear, though not much farther on either side. Plenty of kids crowded around the buffet, or else snacked in front of the large projection display. The single flat wall ran a repeating feed showing mission simulation, right down to a realistic render of the launching Neophyte. Radio chatter occasionally rose above the many separate conversations scattered through the room, accurate right down to the replications of their voices.

There were enough tables for everyone. But despite the upcoming mission, Kit didn't see any two members of the Ravana expedition sitting together. They were all somewhere else—playing or eating or chatting with other friends in the Institute.

We've been around each other often enough. And we'll get plenty more time soon. They would probably be sick of each others' company when they got back.

"Saved you a plate," Jay said, holding one out for her near the front of the line. Kit caught Sadie wink at her. 

Kit lifted her tail as high as it would go, putting it between her and the cat. Let her say whatever she wanted; Kit did not have her own mouse. Sadie's the predator with a bunny she spends all her time with.

"You're eating?" she asked, eyeing him. "You got your own plate!"

He shrugged. "Last chance to taste Emma's cooking for a year. She can do some stuff good." He lingered at one little metal tray under the heat lamps, scooping an ample helping of something from within. Noodles, except—without anything else?

Kit took some too, then added an ample scoop of meat sauce on top. Meat-tasting sauce, anyway. The Institute had no livestock, or animals at all that she knew of. No insects, no rats, no creature at all they hadn't deliberately fabricated. And most disappointing, no pets.

"Did Emma make all this stuff? Even with all her last-minute checkups?"

"No," said a bunny from behind her in line. Emma carried no less than four plates. She took a little of everything, but kept each item totally separate, not allowing a single food to touch any other. The really impressive part was somehow balancing all those plates, without dropping or tilting one. Somehow, her jumpsuit remained pristine. "Lots was me; some was Forerunner. I started with the desserts first, since those keep the longest. Sawyer and Felix and Haley helped, too."

Kit couldn't even taste all the different amazing things they had to choose from here. Institute templates required small, infrequent meals, after all. Most of these kids probably didn't even need to eat anything today. Forerunner would let them feel hungry anyway, because it was socially beneficial to share this bonding time together. 

"Doesn't feel real," said Chase, from the other side of the statue. He had already eaten, and now held a glass bowl overflowing with ice cream in every flavor the little dispenser could make. "Won't be tasting solid food again until we get the fabricator unpacked on Ravana. Enjoy it."

He clearly meant it, because he lifted the bowl to his face right there in line and took the biggest bite he could. He lowered it again with his face smeared with multicolored cream, dribbling down onto his jumpsuit. "Perfection."

"You're pretending," Jay said, annoyed. "Just trying to gross me out. No one likes all the flavors."

"It's horrible," Chase agreed, with an emphatic nod. He wiped his face on his sleeve, staining it even worse. "I want to remember bad food too. It's all worth remembering." 

Kit followed Jay to their seats, really just the nearest table with some empty space. Sawyer was already there, along with a few other colonists Kit knew only tangentially. The girl on her left was another deer, with convincing spot patterns in her hair. They had to be dyed, right? Then there was Sam and Pat, both of whom had brought work with them.

Well, Pat had brought a tablet she was taking notes on. Sam had little plastic pieces next to his untouched meal, and he was... building a model?

Kit leaned closer to look, then grinned. "You made a model kit for the Neophyte?"

"Forerunner did most of it," Sam said, not looking up from his work. He took a delicate plastic piece from the table in front of him with tweezers, lifting it towards the model. The interior was open in front of him, reflecting... an assembled habitation sphere? Half of it, anyway. "Part of the fun is figuring out how it goes together. I'm keeping a list of suggestions to change before he prints it for anyone else to build."

Finally, he looked up. "I know you keep a model of the Aether in your office. I'll have this one painted and waiting for you when you return. Assuming you ever want to look at the Neophyte again."

"I didn't think I would ever want to see the Aether again," she said. "But then it was gone, and I missed it. Maybe I'll have Forerunner send me a model of the Institute to build while I'm flying."

"I have several," Sam said, eager. "Just tell me the scale, and I'll talk to him. If you think you'll have the time."

"There won't be Institute living conditions on that ship," Pat said. "I guess everyone had to sacrifice those this year."

"For a good cause." Jay used his fork to gesture at the model behind them. "We can go back to it now. Once the launch is over."

"Until you need engineers to finish designing the habitat for Ravana. Or people to figure out a drive system, or historians to go look through old files." She pushed her empty plate aside, then stood. "Not saying it wasn't for a good reason. We obviously couldn't keep living the same way forever. Just feels... sad. We don't get to choose anything we want anymore."

"We will again," Kit said, putting her own fork down. "When we get back, Mara won't just have a thousand colonists anymore. Imagine millions. One day we'll have so many people that there's always enough who are interested in anything, no matter how obscure or boring it seems to the rest of us. You won't ever have to design another life support system if you don't want to."

"Guess we'll see," Pat said. "Might be fun. Or maybe I just wanna play games for a while."

She didn't come back to the table. Her brother spent the next few minutes building, before getting up and leaving too. A drone followed soon after, gathering his plastic pieces carefully into a tray for him.

"Did you think about your big speech?" Sawyer asked, from a few spots away. "I'm surprised you didn't want to do one tonight."

She looked sideways at Jay. Technically Kit had nothing to do with that decision. But if the mouse thought it was a good idea, she agreed. "I'll have my chance tomorrow. I didn't want this to be official. We're just getting together as friends, enjoying the night."

"For the last time," Sawyer said. He leaned back in his seat, bracing one leg against the edge of the table to hold himself like that. The adjustment servos in his chair kept whining, struggling in vain to put him back at their eye level. He had to actively fight them. 

"Kit can do anything," Jay said. "She'll bring everyone back safe."

That's my mouse, Kit thought.

"You got this," Sawyer agreed. "Forerunner won't let you launch otherwise. He has strict rules about all his colonists. But that's not what I mean. After you succeed, when the Ravana is ripped apart and Mara has big cities all over it—the Institute won't be the same. No citizen will ever know everyone else. No one will ever make friends with the whole colony."

"Not like we could," said another voice, from the other side of the table. A colonist sat so quietly, Kit hadn’t noticed her at first. She lifted her face from her arms, and Kit gasped. Morgan pretended not to notice. "First generation aren't friendly types. Except for her." 

She glanced across the room, to where Maddie sat on the floor, demonstrating something to a large crowd of watching kids. Despite using squishy blocks as her tools, the lesson used words Kit couldn't even pronounce, much less understand. 

"The rest don't want to be your friends. They want you dead."

Sawyer swallowed, shifting uneasily in his seat. "Yes, well... maybe they'll sign up for treatment too, when this is over. No matter what happens, everything changes. For the better, because of who we have." He drew one hand across his chest, then tapped it to his forehead. "Saint Rowe, steadfast guardian of those who journey beyond the stars, we seek your intercession. Keep our hulls strong and our air plentiful. Guide us as we sail to nameless stars, and whisper our names to the Eternal Father, that we may remain always in His care. Amen.”

He left too, vanishing to join an energetic game in the arena just down the hall.

Jay slid closer to her. The chair didn't move on its own, but the mechanism seemed to know what he wanted, because it lowered him next to her anyway. Close enough for her to reach out and touch. "What was he talking about?"

Kit rolled her eyes. "I have no idea how he found it. I only know because the other persona told me."

Morgan stood up, annoyed. "Who else would be digging around in historical files researching old religions?" She didn't wait for an answer. "There's something I have to do before we go. Don't worry about me, I'll meet you on the elevator."

"Know what?" Jay pressed; his food forgotten. "That's not how Sawyer talks. He said those things on purpose."

"Sure did," Kit said. "Some humans a long time ago must've thought I was more important than I really am. But since I was dead, they never got to meet me." She stood up too. "Gonna get some dessert. Want anything?"

He did—a bowl of plain chocolate ice cream, and a slice of cake with the frosting cut off. Kit took everyone else's requests at the table while she was at it. Might as well bring over a whole tray...

The party went on for a long time, much longer than Kit could usually stay up. Their templates lacked the kind of control she once had as an adult, no matter how “superior” they might be in every technical sense. Usually she would just get tired, and that would be it. Much to the annoyance of the other colonists, who could go days or even weeks without rest.

Maybe there was something in the food, or maybe just this once her willpower could finally master the limits on her template. 

Either way, the simulated sunlight streaming in through the skylight above had finally faded to false stars before she made her way to bed. 

She was truly exhausted by then, so delirious she could barely even see where they were going. But Jay was leading her, and that meant she would be fine. There was someone looking out for her, she didn't have to worry.

"Didn't... elevator was back there," she muttered, her words muddled and blurred together. "Missed it."

"Not going that way," Jay said. As usual, the mouse wasn't nearly as tired as she was. Nothing was ever fair.

They passed through a narrow hallway, and he helped her crawl through before standing up on the other side.

Those special doors would be gone soon—there were less than a dozen full templates they checked for. One more artifact of the Institute as it used to be.

"Sadie would've reassigned it by now, probably..." Jay was saying. His words drifted in and out, even though his head was just beside her. "But more people have been going back to Remedial than the new experts Forerunner brought upstairs."

They stopped in front of a door—identical in a long circular hallway. Except that this one said both their names on it.

It opened automatically. The space within was—clean, if sparse. Kit hadn't left anything down here when she moved, and neither had he.

The lights were deep red, far gentler on her eyes than the bright hallway. Jay helped her out of the jumpsuit, then up into a familiar bunk on his side of the room.

"Our blankets were... upstairs."

"I asked Forerunner to bring them back," he said. "I know I'm kinda taking over for you while you're gone, but that doesn't mean I have to live up there. That big empty room with just me inside it... no way. I'll go crazy." 

He climbed in next to her, nudging her tail up into his arms. "I know Wren liked looking down on everyone from up there. But I'd rather be next to them. I'm not a real director, just filling in for someone better."

Kit opened one eye. "I'm not—" But there was Jay, an inch from her, watching with all the uncritical admiration his template suggested. He thinks I can do anything. Maybe just this once, it was okay if Jay kept believing something. He would need all the help he could get to run the Institute in her absence, even if he was just a substitute. 

"You shouldn't still be awake," he said, wrapping both arms around her in a hug. Not very tight, though that level of affection from Jay was significant on its own. "I know you'll bring everyone home. But take care of yourself too, squirrel. You have to come home."

Home. Kit had a home again, one worth fighting to get back to. All she had to do was survive.

All the blood and screaming of her earlier nightmare couldn't keep her from sleeping soundly that night. Garrick and the Acheron and the whole universe could tell her over and over how broken and useless all of them were. But nothing they said would ever take this away.

"I'll make it," she whispered, as her mind drifted and sight finally failed her. "No matter what."