Loco turned on his heel, striding towards the door. “Fucking figures. The enslavement of all intelligent life in the universe, that’s not a big enough deal to him, not a sufficiently significant reason to act, to get involved. Maybe if we told him that there’s an unlocked speeder with a full tank of gas on the far side of this shitty rock, maybe that’d get him off of his fucking ass…”
Bentley felt a wave of anger that mirrored the one Loco seemed to be experiencing, as well as waves of disappointment that felt like they were on the same level as what Shango and Olofi were going through. However, when she looked at Legba and saw his calm, almost smiling eyes, she recalled that the times she’d gotten anywhere communicating with him were not ones when they’d been talking. While conversations with Legba tended to wind around themselves in frustrating, unproductive circles, tying themselves in knots while revealing nothing, she’d had much better luck with communication undertaken while she was in a meditative state.
Instead of leaning into either the anger or the disappointment that both felt very present to her, Bentley instead decided to focus on her breathing. She settled into the familiar patterns that Lebga had taught her. She closed her eyes, and the scene before her was replaced with a calm darkness.
In the absence of visual information, she felt her other senses become more magnified, more intense. She felt the weight of her own body against the hard rock floor beneath her, the various points of pressure against the firm, uneven surface. She smelled the captivating, sharp scent of the smoke that drifted out of the small fire that burned in front of her, and listened to the crackling of the wood, the sounds echoing off of the stony walls that surrounded her. She could even hear the rustling of her fellow crew members’ clothes as they moved around her. She could also detect the frustration that drove their movements, but she did not allow her mind to focus on their distress. Instead, she focused on her breathing, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, again and again.
Soon she began to feel a familiar calm. She did not actively push any of her thoughts away, but she found her mind to be very clear, focused only on each inhalation, followed by an exhalation. She began to feel as though there was no world beyond her own breathing. In this state of deep calm, it would not be correct to say that she heard something, but she did sense a thought, bubbling towards her, a thought that was not her own.
You’ve been practicing your meditations.
Even though this was just a thought, and it did not carry with it the sound of a voice, she could tell that it had come from Legba. She could feel her lips curling into a smile, on a face that felt as though it were many miles away. It’s the only way I can handle Loco sometimes, she thought, both to herself, and to Legba.
She felt a glowing warmth from Legba. I can see why. I didn’t have you pegged as the sort of person who was really into people who yell a lot and clomp around thunderously, as though they’re trying to scare away a wild animal when they’re actually trying to have a conversation.
You should see him when he really gets going. There’s nothing quite like experiencing his particular brand of loud, sarcastic anger when he’s one of the only conscious minds around for tens of millions of miles. It really makes being near conscious beings seem like a mixed blessing.
Maybe you should spend a bit more of your time teaching him how to meditate.
Bentley shifted her posture slightly, and she felt her face turn from a smile to a more serious expression. He means well, though. He’s just frustrated. And he’s not the only one.
Yes, I certainly noticed. Shango and Olofi look like they’re having a difficult time. But it is to be expected. Frustration is pretty much the baseline if you’re a fallen god.
Bentley exhaled yet again, but this particular exhalation felt more like a sigh. It’s not just the fallen gods in our party that are frustrated. I am, too.
Then maybe you need to practice your meditation more than I thought…
I’m serious, Legba. You know what Amroth’s been planning. You knew before we even got here.
That is true. I also know that Amroth recently suffered a deeply debilitating injury. Some sort of accident, with a woman, and a sword, and a tear in the fabric of space-time…
Yes, I know. I haven’t forgotten. That’s kind of a hard experience to forget. But you know what happens with these sorts of plans. Once they exist, and start to progress, they develop a momentum all of their own. This is a plan that’s in motion, and I think you know as well as I do that just because Amroth’s dead, that doesn’t mean his plans are dead, too. Like, if some guy wants to make a, uh, I don’t know, a factory, that makes bolts, and he raises funds, and gets investors, and puts together a business team, and builds a factory, and hires a workforce, and then on the first day, when they’re just about make the first bolt, if that guy dies? It’s not like everyone else is going to shrug, and just burn down the factory and forget about it. Someone’s going to make those bolts.
So you’re suggesting that Amroth had also secretly co-founded a business enterprise to produce bolts? That’s a smart move. Diversification. The universe doesn’t always need elaborate, evil schemes for domination of the entirety of intelligent life, but basic components for machinery, that’s a strong, reliable market.
Bentley felt a wave of frustration rise in her, which almost pulled her out of her meditative trance. After focusing more closely on her breathing, she calmed herself down, and turned her thoughts back to Legba. I’m serious. You know that this is a big deal. And that you can help, in ways that we probably can’t even imagine. So why are you so reluctant to come with us?
I guess I’ve just never been a big fan of road trips. It’s so hard to get any time alone when you’re traveling with others for extended periods of time. No time to just sit still, and focus. Plus, can you imagine spending day after day cooped up in a vehicle that’s not much larger than a small cave?
Really? You think that would be a problem for you? If it makes you feel better, we could glue some rocks to the walls of your quarters. Make you feel more at home. Whatever you want.
Bentley felt an odd shift in Legba’s presence. She couldn’t tell if he was becoming more serious, or more solemn, but it felt to her like what had initially started as a jokey warmth had begun to cool into something else. Whatever I want, you say?
Bentley felt herself hesitate. I… I think so…
Well. I can tell you that I will come on your little road trip, but under one condition: after the mission is complete, Shango, Olofi, and Loco must do a little favor for me.
A little favor? Like what?
I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.
Why not? You’re the one asking for the favor.
I am. And I am sorry, but I cannot tell you what this favor is.
Can you tell Shango, Olofi, and Loco? That seems fair, since they’re the ones who’ll be doing this favor.
Alas, no. As you saw earlier in this very cave, my attempts to communicate with them are not always productive. I have no such problems communicating with you, though. We don’t even need to wear out our precious little throats if we want to have a word or two.
Bentley focused on her breath, and tried to think to herself, without communicating these thoughts to Legba. Loco would kill me if I agreed to this without asking him first, she thought.
Killing seems awfully strong. He seems tough, but I doubt very much that he has it in him to actually kill you.
Legba?
Yes. I’m sorry. I can give you some privacy, if you think you need it. Please, take your time.
Bentley took another deep breath. No. That’s fine. I’ll agree to your condition. But I have one condition of my own: you have to tell me everything.
Everything?
Yes. No more riddles, no more half-truths, no more language games. The whole story. I want to know every last detail of how you and I ended up on the Chesed, how I lost my memory, what my life was like before. And why I shot you.
B
entley could feel the warmth returning to Legba’s presence. I’m happy to say, you have yourself a deal.
+++
Aboard the Chesed, Dead Rock, Deep Space
Shango, Olofi, and Loco sank into the seats around the table that sat below the command deck. They gazed towards Jelly Bean, who stood adjacent to the entrance. The three lwa looked simultaneously exhausted and relieved. Behind them, the bridge’s main screen showed a live feed of the sparse, rugged landscape of the dead rock.
Jelly Bean bowed slightly towards the three lwa. “Legba has settled into his quarters. Are there any messages that you would like me to relay to him prior to taking off?”
Loco leaned back in his seat, grinning. “Yeah. Make sure you remind him: no campfires in the ship. No exceptions. If he gets cold, tell him to stick his arm through an interdimensional portal, and grab a fucking sweater.”
Jelly Bean nodded. “Affirmative. I can give him a quick run-through of the ship’s general fire safety guidelines, if you like. Hopefully that would clear up any ambiguities about the rules concerning campfires and other recreational forms of combustion while aboard the Chesed.”
Shango shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, Jelly Bean, but please don’t. We don’t want to give him any excuses to leave, even anything as minor as a mandatory safety lecture.”
Olofi leaned forward. “Maybe forget the message to Legba, and just get Jade, so that we can get going.”
Jelly Bean nodded once more. “Very good.” She turned and walked off of the bridge, the door sliding shut behind her. Olofi gazed at the closed door, his eyes narrowing, his mouth twisting into an expression of concern.
Loco noticed Olofi’s expression. “What? Having second thoughts about calling off Legba’s fire safety lesson? I’m telling you, these old guys, they can get pretty attached to their routines, and if their routine happens to involve setting a fire and keeping it going for hours on end... Old habits die hard, is all I’m saying.”
Olofi sighed. “No, I’m fairly confident that Legba can go a few weeks without burning down the Chesed. It’s just… Is it just me, or does Bentley seem to have a, a sort of sway over Legba?”
Loco shrugged. “If she has so much sway over Legba, then why did it take her, like, an hour of sitting with the guy to convince him to come? You saw her when she came out of that cave. She looked awful, completely drenched in sweat. She looked like maybe half of her body weight had just poured out of her sweat glands. That kind of look doesn’t exactly scream ‘clout.’”
Olofi stood up and began to pace. “Still. He did end up coming onto the ship. Contrast that with where things stood after his conversation with us. Based on that exchange, it seemed like we’d definitely be leaving here without him.”
Loco stretched, seeming bored by the conversation. “Well, I don’t know. It might just be something to do with her connection to the sword. I don’t think I’d jump to the conclusion that Bentley is actually capable of being… you know… convincing…”
Olofi crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Look. All I know is that when we left that cave, Legba was firmly opposed to coming with us. Yet when Bentley left that cave, only an hour later, it was with Legba, who had changed his mind completely. And if, in fact, Bentley did actually change his mind? That could be useful.”
Shango leaned forward in his seat, watching Olofi with clear interest. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”
Olofi shrugged. “Not exactly. I’m just thinking in pretty general terms. Legba, after all, is the gatekeeper. He controls a place of incredible power, and incredible possibility. I don’t trust Legba’s allegiance to anyone or anything, but Bentley, she’s on our side. And if she has Legba’s ear? That seems like a state of affairs that we might be able to use to our advantage.”
Shango nodded slowly. Loco sighed loudly. “Or maybe he’s just a capricious old crank, who does whatever the fuck he wants, whenever he wants. Maybe he got bored of sitting alone on an empty, desolate rock for gods know how long. Or maybe, once Bentley started to get completely drenched in her own sweat, he somehow got the idea that it might be more… engrossing to start spending more of his time in the company of a hot woman in a wet shirt rather than in the company of a shitty little fire.”
A grimace spread swiftly across Olofi’s face. “Loco. I know you might not agree with my theory. But could you please not be gross?”
As Loco leaned back in his chair, the door to the bridge slid open. “Oh, surely you don’t mean that. Everyone loves it when I’m gross.”
Jade entered through the door and cleared her throat. “No. Not everyone…”
Shango rose from his seat. “Jade. Please prepare us for lift-off. Destination: Dracon Station.”
She nodded and dashed up the steps to the command deck. As she sat down and began to initiate the take-off sequence, Shango walked over to Olofi, leading him towards the main screen on the bridge.
Shango put a hand on Olofi’s shoulder. “We’ve got quite a lot of time before we arrive in the Dracon System, and we should certainly spend a good deal of that time in conversation with Legba, to see if he has any insights concerning ways that he can help us defeat Amroth and Malleghan. But I do think that you have a very strong idea. And I think that it’s an idea that would be worth investigating further.”
As Olofi looked Shango in the eyes and nodded, the Chesed began to rumble, and it started its ascent into the sky. Olofi and Shango turned towards the large screen. As the Chesed increased its speed, rocketing ever higher, they watched as the horizon transformed into the outline of the dead rock, and then watched as the dead rock itself became tinier and tinier, until it disappeared into the vast darkness of space.
CHAPTER FIVE
Aboard the Chesed, Deep Space
Although it was occupied by two people, the medical bay was almost completely silent. Bentley sat in the padded examination seat, feeling deeply uncomfortable. It certainly wasn’t the chair’s fault; the padding was more than sufficient to keep almost any patient in a state of calm and comfort, even if they were sitting in it to have some particularly vicious shards of shrapnel removed from some exceptionally sensitive parts of their body. As usual, the source of Bentley’s discomfort was Legba.
He sat across from her, seated on a stool, his face projecting an expression of calm, his eyes closed in a meditative trance. He wasn’t doing anything to bother her, but she couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that they had been in a similar position before. She had been sitting in this very examination seat, and he had been sitting on that very stool, on a day that felt so long ago, but also strangely recent. The day she lost her memory.
Bentley sighed, thinking back to one of her last conversations with Legba, before he’d fled the android airfield, back to his dead rock. He had opened her eyes to a memory from that very day when they had been sitting across from each other in this very medical bay, providing her with a recollection of a moment that had occurred just before she had lost her memory. It had been a painful memory when he had revealed it to her, and that pain had not yet dulled.
She remembered herself alone in a large room, brimming with banks of computers. A LaPlacian station office, a place she was dimly aware that she used to work. Suddenly, she had become aware of a presence before her, in the shadows. There was a pistol in her hands, aimed right at the figure, and she watched as the figure slowly emerged from the shadows, his hands raised. Although she didn’t recognize him at the time, and had no idea who he was, by now his face was unmistakable: it was Legba.
They had exchanged a few words, but those words were of no consequence. However, those words were followed by an act of great consequence, and that act was undertaken by Bentley. She was still wracked with guilt for having done it. It took so little energy; a barely voluntary contraction of her right index finger. Her trigger finger.
Since rediscovering this memory, despite her best intentions, she had played and replayed this next part over and over a
gain, to an extent that could not possibly have been healthy. She watched impotently as a burst of smoke issued from the gun’s barrel, followed swiftly by a single bullet. Bentley cringed as the memory slowed down, as she watched the bullet pierce, then enter Legba’s chest, as she watched the blood pour from the freshly opened wound, as she watched him stagger backwards, almost falling back into the shadows from which he had so recently emerged.
Bentley shook her head, bringing herself out of the nightmare, and back to the present. She looked at Legba, who still sat before her, his eyes still closed, his face still projecting a deep calm. No blood leaked from any wounds in his chest, and no incomprehensible grunts of pain sounded from his lips. He was fine. He was alive.
This might have been cause for calm, but despite the fact that Legba was somehow alive, Bentley could not escape the crushing weight of once having killed him. Yes, he was alive on that stool, sitting right there before her, but his death still had deep impacts. If he hadn’t been bleeding to death, she would never have encoded with the sword. It was true, she would have never met Jade or Svend, and she was very happy to have met both of them, but it was equally true that all of the deaths that had occurred over the course of her little adventure could have been avoided. Legba might have come back, but the countless others who had been killed would never return from death.
If anything, his presence made the guilt worse. Here he was, walking around in this ship which had become her home, a living reminder of one of the most violent acts that she had ever committed. Or that she could remember having committed, at least. Since the memory had resurfaced, she had tried to actively suppress it, to avoid looking at it. She had failed many times and given in, obsessively replaying it in her mind, but her ability to avoid diving into that memory and dredging up all the attendant guilt had been steadily increasing as time went by. However, with Legba here on the ship, it was impossible not to run into him, impossible to avoid the memory being sparked, and then replayed, over and over again.
Legba Page 5
