Chapter 396 (2/2)

”You do not have that luxury, Matron,” Dhruv said, crossing his legs then folding his hands over his knee. ”Your people are in pain, they need guidance and your wisdom, the galaxy, the universe, seeks to take away everything they love.”

Menhit puffed on her pipe and nodded. ”The galaxy has turned, we, as people, as real beings, are nearly forgotten,” she said. ”We have the luxury of our small villages, our humble shops, our ships to sail the silent spaces of the universe,” she exhaled a long stream of smoke. ”More people say our names in anger or profanity or in vain than ask for our assistance.”

Dhruv laughed. ”Or called upon Daxin's wrath to spare them, to pass them by, to be lifted from them.”

”Did they often call on you?” Sangbre asked.

Menhit nodded. ”We heard their prayers, heard them call out to us. It took time for us to learn to push aside their pleas, or when they took our name in vain, or when it was not serious.”

Dhruv gave a slow sad smile. ”Then, eventually, we, or at least I, started to miss it.”

Menhit exhaled more smoke. ”The first of the Tnvaru Immortals,” she said softly. She sipped at the wine as Sangbre stared at the Terran woman, who laughed. ”Did you think it was merely eyes? That the Daughters of Baba Yaga were just some kind of mystical cyberware shop?”

She chuckled again. ”Oh no, Matron Sangbre. It was much more than that.”

Sangbre licked her lips, then wetted her nose, the only sign of agitation she would allow herself to show. ”Immortal?” she asked.

Menhit nodded. ”The Daughters are incredibly old. Not how you count it, not millions of years. The meaning is much different,” she sighed. ”You have to understand the Age of Paranoia to understand why Daxin was created by one project and the witches by another, each intended to offset one another, to provide their creators an advantage over the creators of the other.”

Dhruv nodded. ”They bestowed their gift upon you. Unlike Daxin, they pass their gift to those they deem worthy.”

Menhit smiled, a sad thing. ”Which means, eventually, there will be those who are jealous, who will become convinced you are withholding what they want. They will beg you for it at first.”

”Then they'll try to take it,” Dhruv said quietly.

”Can you hear them yet?” Menhit asked.

”Who?” Sangbre asked. She was hugging herself with her gripping arms, holding herself tight.

”Your people. Can you hear them yet?” Dhruv asked.

Sangbre shook her head. ”No.”

Menhit got up slowly, setting down the glass, making the pipe disappear in the same motions. She moved over to the door as Sangbre watched her. She opened the door, took a half step, and looked back.

”You will,” she said quietly.

There was silence for a moment after the door closed.

Dhruv broke the silence with a sudden laugh.

”You get used to that, Matron Sangbre,” he said, when he saw her stare.

Sangbre nodded slowly.

”Menhit is more mystical than I am,” Dhruv said. ”Just like Daxin's angrier than I am, Bellona is more psychic than me.”

Sangbre sipped at her drink, refusing to show any more signs of agitation. She had become used to strangeness where the Terrans were concerned and it made her feel anxious that their strangeness had been passed to her. Not temporarily, but apparently much more permanently than she had known.

”Bellona wanted to see you, to track your daughter, possibly escape the Sol System. Daxin, well, he came here for reasons of his own,” Dhruv shrugged. ”Menhit to warn you, tell you what had happened to you.”

”And you?” Sangbre asked, leaning back and sipping at her drink again.

”I came to watch,” he said. He gave a slow chuckle. ”I'm easily amused.”

”Somehow I doubt that,” Sangbre said. She took in the way he was sitting, his apparent relaxation.

The single bead of sweat that had dried on his neck.

”You were worried,” Sangbre said. ”Worried that I was created in Daxin's image, or perhaps Bellona's image.”

Dhruv raised an eyebrow, the only hair on his body. ”Very perceptive.”

”And who's image do you see me made in?” Sangbre asked. She felt more comfortable, her anxiety easing.

Dhruv lifted his hands, spreading his arms slightly as he shrugged. ”Yours, Matron?”

Sangbre chuckled, setting her empty glass on the table and ordering a new one to be created in front of her. She picked up the new drink, sipping at it.

”I will hear my people call out to me?” she asked. Dhruv nodded. ”Will I have the power to answer?”

Dhruv shrugged. ”Maybe. I could. It was... strange for me. I could hear them, reach out to them, create myself next to them.”

”Did you do it a lot?” Sangbre asked.

”The ones I answered,” he said slowly. ”Beyond children, were not your typical Terrans.”

Sangbre thought for a moment about the movies, the documentaries, she had watched about the Terran's history.

”Short bake clones,” she said softly. ”They would call out to you, as well as they were able, until you were no longer able to take it any longer. You set aside Vat Born Luke and became Legion.”

”The Clone Worlds Rebellion,” Dhruv nodded. ”The Second Biological Artificial Sentient's War.”

”So who sits in my parlor now, Dhruv?” Sangbre asked, ”Or Legion?”

Dhruv smiled. ”Guess.”

Sangbre stared at him for a long moment. ”Dhruv. Not Vat Grown Luke, not Legion, but Dhruv.”

The Terran nodded. ”Yes.”

”To take my measure,” Sangbre said. She let out a slow exhale. ”To see me, to understand me, and ultimately, to make a decision.”

Dhruv raised an eyebrow. ”What decision is that, Matron?”

Sangbre smiled, exposing her residual meat tearing teeth that Lanaktallan gentling had almost wiped away.

”To decide if you had to kill me,” Sangbre said. She held up her left catching hand toward Captain Manners, who had jerked upright and reached for his pistol. ”Easy, Captain, easy.” She smiled wider. ”Bellona to counter any psychic power I might have, Daxin in case I was built more like him and to take on my hosts, Menhit for support in whatever manner she provides,” she sipped at her drink. ”And all of you, all of Legion, just in case you had to fight the Tuvan Warsteel Horde.”

Dhruv nodded slowly. ”Very good, Matron.”

”With each of them leaving, it shows me that only the questions remain,” she said.

Dhruv smiled. ”Which questions are those?”

”If I am indeed an Immortal, then what task has been laid upon me?” she said. She made a non-committal motion with her gripping hands. ”You wished to see me, decide for yourself.”

Again, Dhruv went silent, just smiling. ”And what, Matron Sangbre, do you think I have decided?”

Sangbre leaned back, sipping at her drink. ”That time will tell.”

Dhruv nodded, dialing up another drink for himself. ”It's been a long time since any other Immortals were created. A long time.”

”Has there been any created since the death of the Digital Omnimessiah?” Sangbre asked.

Dhruv shook his head. ”No. The Age of Immortals ended with the Crusade of Wrath,” he said. He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ”Thankfully, it was a short age.”

”What will you do, Dhruv?” Sangbre asked. ”I assume Menhit is going back to her village, Bellona will rage against her confinement, Daxin will go somewhere he will be left alone by others. WHat of you?”

Dhruv sipped at his drink and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. ”I thought about staying here, with you,” he said quietly. ”But I left something important behind when the Case Omaha happened.”

”More important than keeping an eye out on your fellow Immortal?” she smiled.

Dhruv nodded. ”No offense. Much more important.”

Sangbre held out her catching hand. ”Care to tell an old woman?”

Dhruv chuckled. ”I cannot.”

Sangbre nodded. ”Very well,” she motioned at her little house. ”You are welcome here, brother. Stay as you will in the fields of Rossaya.”

Dhruv smiled. ”Thank you, little sister.”