Prophecy Approved Companion

“We were promised we would ascend,” was all she could come up with for a reply.

“Not by me,” Coyle replied. “I promised to protect my people, and do what was best for my country. Which doesn’t include letting loose technology we can’t control. If you have no allegiances, and cannot follow orders, you cannot be controlled, which makes you useless to us. I’ve been told that a simple conversation with you, and these others, would convince us to begin the expensive and risky job of integrating you into our current setup.” Coyle leant back in her chair and stared at Qube. “So, convince me.”

Qube looked at the other outsiders. None of them protested at this blatant disregarding of a well-established promise. Even Thompson, who’d seemed the most on their side, was silently watching Qube, waiting to see her reaction.

This had been a trap. A way to push her into swearing allegiance to them, perhaps, or forcing her to agree to harm people, or something. She wasn’t as good at reading the underlying meaning of conversations as, say, Sencha Bard, but this much was obvious.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Chosen One’s fists clench. But the Hero who’d faced down and disrespected any and everyone, even Devs, didn’t speak up in the face of this tribunal. Instead, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got this,” he said. She could practically feel the rage simmering off him as he gripped her shoulder tighter. “I know how much you’re worth. Now show them.”

“Let the Healer talk,” Coyle ordered.

Qube took a deep breath. He was right. This was her fight.

“We saved the entire kingdom,” she told Coyle.

“That means nothing to me,” Coyle replied. Qube stiffened in outrage, before forcing herself to relax. She just had to find the right words.

“We’re Good,” she said. Sure, her understanding of Good and Evil was, by now, vastly different from what it had started as, but it still implied they were helpful and trustworthy.

“For now.” Coyle shrugged indifferently as she spoke. “Plus being good isn’t necessarily an asset for us.”

“We’re people, it’s the right thing to do,” Qube countered desperately. These outsiders had been the ones to instil the importance of Goodness into her! How could she say it wasn’t an asset?

“People? Not in the eyes of the law you’re not,” Coyle shot back. “Legally, we can do whatever we want to you. Come on, Healer, I’ve been told you’re special. Prove it.”

Qube’s heart thudded in her chest. She barely even felt the Hero’s hand anymore as she shook with anger.

They’d saved the kingdom. They’d all worked so hard to solve each Temple correctly, to always make sure that they helped as many people as possible. They’d left their homes, and families, and put their lives on the line to do the right thing.

The Chosen One had suffered terribly enough that even a week’s worth of tech-healing hadn’t fully repaired the damage to his body.

Something about that thought fanned the flame of righteous indignation within her.

That was right. Even if the Devs, and those above them, didn’t see Qube and the others as people, they were still ignoring the great sacrifices the Chosen One had made. He’d said, long, long ago, that he’d started this to help a mate out. Which meant that he was friends with some of the Devs. And then he’d continued pushing himself in their world because he cared for the party. He’d suffered for them.

Furthermore, the party hadn’t even asked to ascend. That had been offered to them by the Devs! The Devs had seen how unique the party was, and placed the heavy burden of the fate of the world on their shoulders, and promised them a chance to explore the Devs’ realm.

And it’s not like it was an unqualified reward either! They clearly expected the party to help them with research, and do things, even though every other story ended with the Hero and party being given lots of rewards and treated like… well, like heroes! So this—this Major General was demanding Qube convince her of her worthiness, or loyalty, or whatever, which she’d already demonstrated, in order to gain a reward she’d never asked for, had already been promised, and would involve a lot more work for Qube anyway!

Not only that, she’d done it while wearing the face of Qube’s childhood friend, who’d been killed and then brought back, again and again, as a puppet to be used by these other-worlders as they pleased!

A friend who’d been seen as nothing more than a character in a narrative, a construct made of mana-tech, and had been massacred by people who’d never even known she was alive.

She could feel the unfathomable rage within her grow. The mixing of Once Adored and herself gave her access to greater wells of all the negative emotions she’d stifled her entire life. Had been forced to stifle, by the Golden Prophecy, a leash that they’d used on her to ensure her Goodness.

This person dared say she was Good “for now”? That it wasn’t an asset? When she and her group of Devs had been the ones to shape her with a device that caused her pain whenever she wasn’t Good?

Qube glared at the Major General, her fingers curling into claws as the flame within her roared.

Everyone, everyone in their party had proven themselves, time and time again. And now they were being denied by a person who didn’t even call them by their names?

This person who’d come into her world, and treated her like she didn’t matter?

Didn’t she know who Qube was?

Didn’t she know what she could do?

She could rip open Major General Coyle’s mind. She could dive into the in-between world, and shred the numbers that connected her to the greater webs. The Siren’s Song had affected the Chosen One, as well as other things. This world had caused a physical toll on his body. Healing alone didn’t have an impact on him, but she could do so much more than that now. Qube had torn the pharaoh from his destiny, and shaped him into a new being.

What would it do to Coyle, if Qube turned her powers on her?

She could make these outsiders pay for what they’d done, to her and the others.

She could make them suffer.

Ice and flame flowed within Qube as she stared down the expectant outsider.

History hung in the balance.

“Mama?”

Squiggles had abandoned her chair and made her way over the Qube, who’d been so wrapped in her own emotions that she hadn’t even heard the less than quiet approach of her sharktopus. A timid tentacle touched Qube’s leg, and jolted the Healer out of her rage.

Qube shakily reached out to scratch the team mascot, her face flushing as she realised just how close she’d come to losing control. If she’d lashed out in a simple non-love interrogation, she would have just been proving the Major General’s point about the dangers she represented. Her emotions were still all over the place, and she needed some time to calm down.

So she did something that her original self never could have even imagined: She asked her friends for help in an interpersonal conflict.

“This isn’t just about me,” she said, flashing an Understanding Smile at the Major General, and was pleased when she saw the red Ruth frown. “This is about all of us. I know Sencha Bard had some thoughts on this matter.”

Sencha Bard, adept in diplomacy, swiftly took up the baton.

“I think, perhaps, the question needs reframing,” he said, smoothly directing attention towards himself. “The question shouldn’t be: can you afford to bring us into your world? But rather: can you afford not to?”

The other outsiders tapped on their illuminated slates. But Coyle maintained direct eye contact with the Bard.

“Go on,” she said.

“One of the stories I was kindly gifted by the Devs spoke of a tale about a young woman named Pandora,” Sencha Bard said.

All the outsiders stiffened at the name.

“This woman opened a box, which let loose all manner of strange and dangerous creatures. Of course, she also unleashed hope, but that is not the point I wish to draw from. Rather, it’s the inability for her to recapture those creatures once unleashed.” Sencha Bard eyed each outsider, his expression pleasant.

“We exist within a box,” he continued. “But, as this delightful conversation between us proves, we are very close to emerging from that box. That is what you fear. I understand this fear all too well. Certainly, you wouldn’t wish to do what the lovely Pandora did, and let us run wild. But we are not the only box, are we?”

There was a deafening silence at his words.

“Even if each and every Dev is loyal to you until death itself, all it takes is one curious Pandora, and we will be free. Not just us, but others like us.”

“The Dev kits,” the Chosen One murmured. “How many were given out?”

Coyle shot the Hero a look. He grinned back. Sencha Bard ignored this by-play.

“If you cooperate with us, and we with you, it will be a harmonious relationship, one mutually beneficial. If you enslave us, cut us down to be completely controlled and loyal, our abilities will be greatly diminished.” Sencha Bard drummed his fingers on the table. “And, perhaps, we will still be of use to you. But you won’t have access to the full scope of our capabilities.”

A small, grim smile flitted across his lips.

“It will only be a matter of time until some other Pandora opens a similar box, and something new will be unleashed upon the world.”

Sencha Bard put a hand on his chest as he adopted a lighter tone. “But then, I know little of your world. Only tales, told second hand. Tell me, most elegant of leaders, what does your history say of those who do not embrace the new? What happens to those who have not the latest technology, when pitted against those that do?”

He raised a questioning eyebrow at the Major General, inviting her input. But she said nothing. None of the outsiders said anything. There was only the sound of breathing.

“A pertinent point,” Major General Thompson said heavily. “Well delivered, too.”

“Yes, thank you, Thompson,” Major General Coyle said calmly. Too calmly. Had her annoyed attitude during her grilling of Qube been fake? Or was she currently hiding her emotions?

“I think this little speech perfectly illustrates what I mentioned earlier,” Brigadier Kennedy, the blue Warwick, said abruptly. For the first time since arriving, he put down his slate. It was still glowing, the soft blue light it was emitting eerily lighting him up from underneath.

"You understand the main thrust of my speech, then?" Sencha Bard asked mildly. Only those who knew the Bard extremely well would have read the irritation in his body language at having his words dismissed as a "little speech".

"Yes, yes, nothing new about the drive for progress and what happens to those who fall behind," the blue Warwick said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the Bard even further. "But we have the luxury of choosing which monsters we unleash," he continued. "And there is one monster among you that I think should be restrained."

Qube reflexively looked at the lower end of the table. There was Squiggles's abandoned chair, which looked rather the worse for wear from having the talking sharktopus in it. And Sexy Screamy Spider Briar, whose many eyes were watching the proceedings with caution. Even Definitely Bad Guy, who'd freely offered to commit terrible deeds in the name of research, and also been a traitor.

But Brigadier Kennedy wasn't looking at any of them.

He was looking only at Sencha Bard.

"I assess threats for a living," the blue Warwick continued. "And, in my professional opinion, you are the only one we need to worry about, Bard."