2.17.2

Endeavors in Empathy

Astrid remained in the War Room long after the others introduced themselves, posed their questions, and eventually moved on. Even the captain departed to discuss navigation with Hammond on the Bridge.

But Channeler and Guardian stood on opposing sides of the strategy table, in the middle of an Earthen Military Service ship. And all seemed surreal.

It appeared the crew assumed the Channeler and Guardian would be more comfortable in each other’s presence, as the two usually went hand in hand.

Whether that bond would be amiable or tense however, remained to be seen.

“No one asked if you had issue with a Guardian aboard,” Eames finally put to her.

“I invited you. I have nothing against the Guardians. Most of them. They’re only as virtuous and flawed as the next human.”

“Including Channelers?”

“Yes. Including Channelers.”

“You’ve been granted a lot of leniencies, here.” He looked about, their solitude evidence to the Statics’ trust in her. “Respect, even. I’m here because I want to find the Channelers that were taken. But I would be lying to say I didn’t want eyes on the situation here.”

“Does it concern you?”

“Mildly. But mostly it seems the best vantage point to see if an alternative to the Sanctuaries is even viable.”

“If it is, there will still be need of Guardians,” Astrid contended. “In no way do I believe we’ll simply be able to live as normal humans. I know what we’re capable of. Better than most. Eventually, some Channeler, somewhere, is going to need moderation.

“If any go rogue, truly rogue, no one is better suited to track and contain them as the Guardians.”

“And you would be in support of some kind of arrangement for that?”

“Of course. It’d be irresponsible not to.”

At that, Eames appraised her. Slowly, under his thick brows. But Astrid stood resolute under his glower.

“Are you having problems, Channeler?”

“My name is Astrid,” she told him. “And what makes you think so?”

“Just wondering why you would advocate so much for my presence after finally gaining autonomy. Makes me wonder if you’re worried.”

“This is about the children, Eames,” she rejected.

“So, it’s not about your man laid up in the infirmary then?”

At that Astrid frowned. Any impulse to disagree died when she realized her only defense was that Dell’s ‘injury’ had been an accident. That she didn’t intend for him to get caught in her discharge seemed a poor argument.

“There are other solutions if I thought myself a danger,” she tried instead.

“I guess we’ll see,” Eames told her.

The Channeler unfolded her arms and opted to dismiss his assumptions rather than delve too deeply.

“Come on,” she told him instead. “I’ll show you around and where you’ll be staying.”

~~~

London assigned a crewman to babysit Eames while they awaited the judgement of Romo’s background check. But Astrid doubted they’d find any problems in the Guardian’s lengthy service in Mercedes. They discovered nearly seventeen years of dedication to the Sanctuary. His work hardly made him available to outside alliances.

The crew retained other things to worry about, however. Word eventually came that Raphael accepted the invitation to relocate to a more secure location. But moving so many Channelers would not be simple. And for a day, Astrid felt tied to the Bridge.

London put her in charge of coordination efforts. The Third Fleet offered a small vessel to facilitate, but being skittish, both they, and Raphael’s heads, required a third party to smooth the arrangements. And Astrid seemed the only one they could agree upon to mediate.

The Aldebaran remained parked so as to not weaken their comm connections. And Astrid got a crash course in Shaely’s role while the crewman and her worked closely to make their ship a temporary command center for the operation.

But by the end of the day, though they succeeded in putting their plan in motion, the Channeler’s headache returned with a vengeance.

Astrid found the stash of green tea Romo acquired for her, and she chatted pleasantly with Sugar while making herself a large mug of it.

The cook, as always, shared a cheerful tune under his breath and snuck a little extra sugar into her cup.

An hour later, the ache dulled to more a bearable level. The ship waited for news. The crew held a collective breath, caught somewhere between a desire to be active, and a need to take inventory of all they discovered and what still lay ahead.

They were still and yet, busy. And even Astrid, who felt she desperately needed a break, couldn’t bring herself to take one.

For better or worse, her restlessness took advantage of the crew’s preoccupation. And she found herself outside the port storage room.

She almost hoped when she entered, she wouldn’t find what she assumed would be there. It would be easier to stay out of it.

But no. Inside, cuffed to the rails of the deck, squatted a bruised brunette in the dark.

The girl, Ava, flinched at the new arrival. Romo remained absent, either invested in his background check for Eames, or in the med lab with Dell.

Astrid tilted her head and peered into the young woman’s face. Slightly swollen where the specialist punched her.

When Astrid took a step closer, the captive again scrunched away.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Astrid found herself trying to comfort her.

“I’m not answering questions,” Ava rebuked.

“I’m not an interrogator.”

“I know what you are.”

Astrid no longer felt apologetic for her nature. Not after what it led Rahna to. But still, something in how the woman lobbed resentment her way stung.

“I just want to understand,” Astrid realized. “You’re not the first person we’ve had in here that hated me. I couldn’t change her mind either. But to do what you’ve been doing? Kidnapping children, taking them from their homes? Slaying innocents who live in isolation, no threat to you? I just… I don’t understand. I need to.”

“You want to understand why the Static Opposition does this?” Ava asked.

But her words didn’t fly as vehemently as Rue’s accusations. Ava, instead, waited for the Channeler to answer.

Astrid showed her hands, to demonstrate she meant no harm. And instead of standing over the woman, or bringing in a chair, Astrid knelt on the hard deck, just couple meters away. She sat, level with the stranger, and met her eyes.

“You, specifically. Why do you do this? Why do you hate us?”

Ava didn’t answer for a long time. Her brown hair, once in a bun, loosened sloppily since their fight. Her body looked uncomfortable. Stiff, under her capture. She looked fed, and watered. But lonely. And even scared.

Minutes passed by in silence with the two regarding one another. Astrid didn’t care how long it took, for Ava to feel safe enough to speak. Out of boredom, if nothing else.

The Channeler bowed her head, stilled herself, and meditated. She willed herself the patience and understanding needed to foster a bond, however fragile, with this singular, broken, woman.

It took a long time before the agent’s shoulders slumped, and her voice softened for company.

“I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you.”

Astrid held her breath.

“At first I just wanted to find my sister,” Ava started. Her voice came, quiet. Astrid’s eyes flickered open, but she didn’t lift her face. She let the woman speak. “I didn’t hate her, either.”

“Your sister was like me?”

Ava grimaced but nodded.

“They let me watch her birth,” she continued. “Mom said it would be beautiful. That it was important for me to see life come into the world. That it was something special we would share.”

Already the girl’s voice watered, and Astrid, too, felt her heart squeeze with empathy. The white noise that colored Ava’s energy evoked such a deep, suffocating sorrow.

“It was supposed to be beautiful.”

When Astrid lifted her gaze, the edges of her vision blurred under how fractured, and pained, the woman felt.

“It was,” Ava gulped. “To see life like that, human life, after watching mom’s stomach grow and swell and then… a whole little human being. She was beautiful. Perfect. I always wanted a sister.”

She shivered, and Astrid with her.

“Just at the end, I remember hearing the baby’s first cry. How amazing that sound was. Life, a real, living soul, given voice. It was breathtaking. I can still remember how it sounded. Mom asked if the baby was okay. Then she went to sleep. She was so tired. So tired. And she never woke up.”

Ava relinquished a sob that made Astrid’s breath hitch. She didn’t try to stop the tears that fell in mirror to her fellow human’s. And the woman, though likely in her mid-twenties, looked small where she curled. A child reliving great heartache.

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” Ava rambled and turned her face to cry away from pitying eyes. “There was a light, I guess? The baby started to wail. The adults started to panic but… I don’t remember anything but Mom’s face. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

The overwhelming grief Astrid uncovered rolled over her, stronger than any she experienced for herself. Different from losing a friend, or a mentor. She never knew her mother, but through Ava’s energy, her spirit, Astrid found a pain that made her tremble

She stifled the sound of her uneven breathing. It felt unfair to be so upset while Ava suffered the loss.

“I just wanted to find her,” Ava finally looked back to the Channeler. “That’s why I studied so hard. I wanted to join Maxwell Academy. They specialized in electromagnetics, energy. And I learned they were close to a Sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary Argos…” Astrid realized.

Ava nodded, then swallowed. “Yeah. Like, ten years later I got in. All that work paid off and the academy accepted my application. And I was there when…”

“I heard what happened,” Astrid took mercy on the girl, so she wouldn’t have to relive that, too. “Were you one of the scientists?”

“No, I was just a student. I wasn’t near where it happened. When it happened. But I still lost people.

“That’s when I realized,” Ava finished. “You can’t help yourselves. We can want to help, try to. We can dedicate all our resources, all our time, all our research but we can’t cure someone’s nature. It's not your fault. You can’t help it. You’re sick.”

The grief morphed under Astrid’s senses. To pity. Helplessness. And even resolve.

“You can’t be saved. My sister can’t be saved. All we can do is try to save the rest of us.”

With silent, wet trails down her cheeks, Astrid couldn’t summon a response to that. She needed to feel herself again. To reassociate with her own self, and her own truth, before Ava’s engulfed her completely.

The Channeler drew herself up on her feet. Ava, again, shirked away, as much as her bonds allowed. While Astrid carefully rebuilt the emotional wall between them she rubbed away the dampness on her cheeks and drew a shuddering breath.

“Thank you,” she forced herself to speak. But she needed to leave. Immediately. “And… I’m sorry.”