Chapter 6: The Plot Thickens
Rhyme was halted in front of her doorway by Aria's brief introduction.
"Densia?! You mean like the continent?"
"Yes..."
"But... that would mean..." Rhyme shook her head, manners first, "Let's talk more inside, we have a lot to talk about, I'm sure."
"Yes..."
---
Marshall Pearston was taken under Roger's wide wings in no time. The two were often seen together when their recesses overlapped. He had become less timid, and more confident about his surroundings.
He learned that Roger was a bit of a celebrity within the force, as it seemed as if his spirits were always on the up and up. Never down. A man who, from the bottom of his great heart, enjoyed his job. A rarity in the world they're living in. What Marshall lacked in the intelligence faculty was made up by the size and strength of his physique. This wasn't to say he's stupid, but he's unable to compete with the other people that were passionate about pursuing their respective paths with their intellect.
Marshall was a jack of all trades. He was good at everything, but master of none. No one but Roger knew about the fact that he could sew, that he could code basic computer language, compose beautiful poems, and draw wondrous sketches. None of those abilities were needed to be a security guard in GRC, so Marshall never felt the need to show them off. None of those abilities were high enough to compete with experts of their fields anyway. Yet he was able to confide in Roger, who patted him in the back for being able to do so much at such a young age.
"If YOU are SOMEHOW, not SATISFIED with the WORK here, you AT LEAST have SOMETHING to fall back ON, YES?"
Indeed. To another odd job, that Marshall would be competent at after the training, but wouldn't be the acme employee, no matter where he worked. Roger didn't know that this was Marshall's fifth job. All of the jobs before had lower wages, and Marshall wanted to make his way up slowly, but surely.
However, despite having Roger know so much about him, Marshall didn't know much about Roger himself. The man was always cloaked in his aura of overflowing positivity, but he never once talked about himself, or his personal life. Maybe there's a reason for that, but Marshall didn't want to step over his boundaries and pry too deep into his senior security guard's life.
---
"Can I get you anything to drink, Aria?" Rhyme asked, using first name basis, not because they're close, but because Rhyme wanted to avoid mentioning the military continent.
"Just... water would be fine..."
"How about tea? I've got the finest tea leaves from a certain nutty professor's wife," Rhyme tried to lighten the mood, to no avail, she would later realize, as she saw Aria still sit somberly from her peripheral vision.
"... Just water would be fine..."
"I insist!"
Rhyme put the tea set gently on the desk, serving the tea to her guest. She then poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it, prompting Aria to do the same, but only after a number of weak, gentle blows from her small mouth.
"So your surname," Rhyme started, curious about her guest, "Densia, that's a continental name, isn't it? Does that mean that your ancestor was...?"
Aria looked up at Rhyme, still sipping reluctantly, "...Yes... my ancestor... was one of the seven founders... of the New World..."
Rhyme could've spat out her tea at how nonchalant Aria announced that unbelievable revelation. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, wouldn't that mean you're a Royal? What're you doing as a receptionist at the GRC, in Kuqala?"
Aria bit her lips. Her chest started to tighten, but an impulsive force pushed her to talk, to expose herself, to lay herself bare in front of this virtual stranger. Aria couldn't fight the force. "I... emancipated... myself... abandoned the Densia family..."
"But... why?"
"The women of Densia... regardless of status... would have to enroll... in the military..." her hand touched her chest, "I... didn't want to be in the military... so I ran away..."
Rhyme's eyes were directed from that slight gesture, and she thought to herself, "I don't think the military would fit someone with that body either... imagine how much harder it'd be from the average soldier," she then stared at her own chest, out of reflex.
Aria continued, not of her own volition, but still with her own voice, "I... upon running away from the Densia family... was..." she thought a moment about which verb would be most appropriate, "...I guess you can say... I was given... a parting gift... so to speak..."
"A parting gift?"
"...well, a curse, I guess... to the ones who defy the family... a senior member of the family... my father... inflicted a curse upon me..."
"A curse? How could a father... to his own daughter..." Rhyme flashed back to the way Jacquel doted on his daughter and thought about how contrasting that is to Aria's story.
"But... well... the curse was meant to... safeguard and protect... outside of the family's protection..." Aria wondered if her statement made any sense, but seeing Rhyme nod her head confirmed her to ask, "... weren't you... just the same?"
Rhyme didn't expect that question, and didn't know how to react, this entire conversation with a former Royal family member had given her news she wouldn't have gotten from the mainstream media. Mostly because the Royals were very secluded and exclusive, even to one another.
"I mean... Miss Rhyme... aren't you also cursed...?"
---
As he read the text and listened to the recording of the meeting, Jacquel couldn't help but smile. Thea caught wind of it and asked, "My, someone's gotten good news, care to share it, dear?"
"It was approved," he said with a big smile, Thea gradually broke into a smile as well, turning down the heat from the wave-stove to congratulate her husband with a hug and a kiss.
"With this, you and Sylvie can stay here longer."
"Mm... This calls for a feast!"
Jacquel thought about it for a moment, one night of respite before the coming sleepless nights didn't sound like a bad deal to him, "All right, tonight will be a night of celebration!" he called Sylvie down to tell her that she could get all her favorite meals and snacks tonight, much to her delight. The Martinez family's bonds grew ever closer that night, with laughter permeating around the pristine white room, the waft of the aromatic feast they ordered with their privileges pampered their olfactory senses. It was a good night. Jacquel knew it would get busier for him, and nights where he could laugh and smile with his family would become even rarer than a vial of RA-19, even though they would still be under the same roof. As such, he cherished this moment. A moment he would undoubtedly miss.
---
"Roger... Roger... Roger... Jolly ol' Roger..."
The man woke up with a start, cold sweat dripping, warm heart racing, and short breaths panicking. A nightmare. There was no haunting image in it. There was only that voice, that whisper.
That was enough to rattle even Roger, and he didn't dare fall into unconsciousness that night. He closed his eyes, but kept his consciousness. He focused on his breath, on his surroundings, trying his best not to fall asleep again that night.
---
Even in the most disciplined of armies, it's not uncommon to find a loose cannon within each of them.
"The commander is ssscared!" a youngling hissed, "we sssshould be more than enough to take out that dassstardly sssspeciessss..."
"I... ssshould be more than enough..."
The youngling sneaked into a portable pod of the starship it was in. It waited for the others to enter a resting state, where they restore torn ligaments during their trainings into stronger ones.
"...For the Queen..." it launched itself towards the atmosphere of the world, altering itself into an abomination. The war form. The youngling had perfected the form, and he couldn't wait to rip apart more than just wires and chunks of steel.
The friction was intense and burned the pod's coating, but couldn't infiltrate the systems. The youngling, protected by the war form, felt no damage from the compressed hell the pod had become. It snarled and bared its fangs, eager to rip and tear the species it so despised for murdering the Queen.
"Commander, a youngling had launched itself towards the planet without authority, should we stop it?"
The commander, though rested, was still conscious and aware, an ability he gained through experience, "No. Let it be. We've no need for upstart soldiers unable to follow orders. Let it throw away its life if it wants. It is no longer part of The Armada, the moment it went against my orders. It will, henceforth, no longer receive protection from The Armada."
The Armada was orbiting alongside the world, awaiting orders from the Commander to invade, it was just a matter of time.