Steam - Part 8 by Me

Chapter 8: The Spoken Word
Written by: Uber (me)

There was resounding thunder as the pair stormed down the narrow hallway, four bots striking the tiles strongly and repeatedly. At the door, Jasper let himself fall, bracing himself against the wall to keep from landing on the ground. "I think we lost them," he managed to wheeze in between his panted breaths.

Next to him, Amy simultaneously choked and giggled. The end result was an awful lot of asphyxiation. "I'll admit it, Jasper," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen anybody run that fast." The air around them seemed thick and heavy, and both felt extremely light headed. Whether this resulted from their excitement or their shortage of breath, neither knew. And at the moment, neither seemed to care.

Jasper fumbled with the key as he tried to push it into the lock. His hands felt foreign, like they belonged to another person that was far away, a person that Jasper didn't want to meet. "I apologize for the mess," he told Amy, "but after two years of dorms, I can't say I have much of an appetite towards keeping things tidy."

Amy smiled at this remark, and Jasper noticed how her smile almost shone. "Relax," she chided him. "You've got every right to be a slob." There was a click as the lock turned and the door swung open. Amy peered into the mess, and noted to herself that Jasper hadn't been joking around. Shirts were haplessly hung across chairs and bedstands, and a thick layer of dust coated anything that didn't move.

Jasper waved a hand into the room. "Would you like to come in?" he offered.

Amy's breathing became even heavier. "You mean," she started.

Jasper caught his mistake. "No!" he proclaimed loud enough that he swore the neighbors would have heard. "I mean I'm not. We're not." He stumbled to find the right words.

"Sure," Amy announced, cutting her friend off. "I'd love to come in." She slid past Jasper and made her way to a chair sitting in the corner.

"What?" Jasper asked, not comprehending, but he turned and followed anyway.

Amy began absentmindedly fiddling, tracing her finger on the dust in a way that seemed familiar to Jasper, and he wasn't sure that he liked. "Where did Tyler go?" she asked. "He just sort of ran off."

"Previous plans with the Captain," Jasper said with a sigh. "We're off duty; he's not. The ship still needs some looking after." He removed his shirt, reaching for a relatively clean one on his desk. Amy turned away, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

It was an odd feeling. The two had been close friends since their first days at the School. For some reason or another, they had probably seen each other naked at least half a dozen times, and it had never been an issue for them. It wasn't sexual; there hadn't been that kind of tension between them. They had just always been comfortable, and not at all disturbed, at seeing each other's bodies. It was a non-issue. Relax, Amy instructed herself. You just haven't seen him in so long. It's still the same Jasper. Yet she couldn't deny that something felt different between them. She forced herself to look, decided that if Jasper knew she was uncomfortable, it would cause more embarrassment than if she simply dealt with her feelings. This was how she noticed the scar.

It was a single ridge, an inflamed streak that cut across his chest. She stood and cautiously advanced. "Jasper," she asked as the concern flooded her eyes. "How did you get this?" She stopped a few feet from her friend, and Jasper instinctively reached out his arms around her.

"Get what?" he said, genuinely confused.

Amy gently ran a finger along the length of the scar. "This," she repeated. "It looks painful. I don't want you to get too hurt out there."

Jasper peered down at his chest and discovered the difficulty of examining oneself without a mirror. "Oh, that one," he muttered. "It's really old. Just a few weeks into service, really. We got ambushed, and I went on the offensive. Brought down the attacking ship, too." He rubbed the area gingerly. "Only problem was getting out. You know, I don't remember much of it, but next thing I know, I'm being pulled out the wreckage. There was nobody alive inside. They were all killed. Brutally." He briefly remembered the scenes the watch had recently displayed. But that was impossible. He couldn't have...

Could he? "Anyway, we made repairs and continued like nothing had happened." She smiled as he clasped Amy's hand in his. "I must have gotten that during the accident. A piece of shrapnel or something. The point is, I'm fine."

At this, Amy felt her relief wash away all her inhibitions. She wrapped her arms around Jasper and hugged him tightly. "I'm just glad you're okay," she murmured. She felt the warmth of his chest, and relaxed as she let all of her feelings run through her. It took her a few moments to realize that Jasper wasn't responding. She lifted her head from his breast and looked him in the eyes. "Jasper?" she asked with a trace of doubt.

Jasper glared at her with a cold gaze. "Where were you, that last day? You promised you would see me off."

There seemed to be a bright flash as the world disoriented itself around Amy. She wasn't embracing Jasper anymore; she was stuck in a chair, sitting at one end of a large metal table in a cramped and unfurnished room.

"Let me go!" she screamed at the only other occupant in the room. Amy's face and voice were consumed by rage; she was close to tears. "I need to see him, she cried. "I promised."

The woman stared at her prisoner. She was tall and lean, with pointed features, and her blond hair was tied up into a bun. Amy thought the woman's eyes would fit better on a hawk than a human being. "You can see your friend later," the woman promised. "Right now, we need your help. There's danger afoot, Amy. We want to give you the chance to be a hero."

This confused Amy. "Heroes are kept against their will," she snarled.

The woman sighed. "In that case," she said, "you are free to leave at any time.

Amy nodded, determined to stay no longer than she had to. She stood to leave, but froze when she noticed that a picture was now being projected on the wall. It was the picture of a girl that Amy recognized well.

"Eliza Mann," the woman announced. "I think you're familiar with her. Last week she ran away from the School. Did she tell you anything beforehand? Where she was going, perhaps?"

Amy was surprised. The officials didn't usually like to use the term "run away," preferring to replace it with something sweeter. Amy shook her head. "I was just as shocked as you are," she admitted truthfully. "But students run away all the time. Why all the attention on her?"

The woman stepped forward to look Amy in the eye. "Because before she left, she took something from us. Something valuable." The image changed to a picture of a golden watch on a chain. "This is an item of special importance that we were using in Project Blackbird. Only a couple were assembled. Have you seen this before?"

Amy shook her head. The woman thought about this for a moment, and then continued. "Well, tell me if you ever discover anything. I have connections with the Academy, Amy. If you help us, I can guarantee all of the best classes for you. A Scholar's paradise is what I can offer you."

Amy recovered from her temporary shock, and she was once again in Jasper's arms. Startled, she broke away and collapsed onto the bed. How could she have been so stupid as to forget about the promise she had made? "I got busy," she lied. "Academy stuff. I wanted to go, but I couldn't make it."

Amy briefly registered that she was cracking. The world seemed to be splintering around her, and nothing was making sense. In a sudden inspiration, Amy knew what she had to do. "I've got to go," she muttered before making a run toward the door.

Next time, she told herself. Next time I'll tell him how I feel.


Amy wandered slowly across the town. As she walked, she cursed her own stupidity. Why couldn't she have just told Jasper the truth? It had only happened because she didn't believe that Jasper would ever come back. She had been weak; even she had lost faith in their reunion. In the end, in a twisted irony, their long awaited meeting had turned out to be the worst thing she needed.

The man was already waiting for her at the Last Stand Café. It was their agreed-upon meeting place. When he saw her, he smiled and waved his fingers at her.

"Sorry I'm late," she admitted as she sat down. "I ran into an old friend."

The man ignored her apology. "You're not wearing it," he growled.

It was the second coldness she had felt that day, and neither of them had been particularly pleasant experiences. "I'm sorry," she told the man. "I told you, old friend. I didn't have the heart to tell him." She reached into her pocket and removed the second ring, the one she had been steadily burning through her pocket during her reunion. It was lustrous silver, and it had a bright green gemstone set among brass plating. She held it up. "How do you tell a friend you're engaged?"

The man reached out and touched the ring with one hand, while the other held onto his cane for support. "I imagine it's not easy," he confessed.

"Right," Amy confirmed. "It's not easy, Stephen."

Another flash. Another memory. Amy put her head on the table and let it pass.

She was standing in a large empty room. Above her she heard the grinding of gears and the ticking of a clock. Admiring the rhythm and looking at the large interlocking pieces always seemed to leave her breathless. Her inner mechanic melted in the face of such incredible design. It was a giant beating heart, and someday it would wake up and rear its ugly head. Amy wanted to live to see that day.

Stephen stood in the middle of the room, leaning on his cane and staring up into the vastness of the tower. "Stephen," she called after him, and as she approached she noticed the cane. "You're hurt," she said.

Stephen smiled softly. "I'm fine," he insisted. "It was a bit of an accident. Taxed myself a little too hard." He laughed. "The doctors said I might need the cane for a while, years even. We shouldn't let it distract us."

Amy nodded. "Right," she confirmed. "Let's do this."

"I assume you read over the Plan," Stephen asked. "It's the heart of everything. The reason why we started Project Blackbird. And the reason we stole Project Ravenwing."

"It was ingenious," Amy agreed. "But the last part. About my wiping my memories. Is that really necessary?"

"It is. The Consortium needs eyes and ears in the Academy, and we're not the only ones with mindmages powerful enough to dig it out of you. Don't worry, though," he promised. "It's set on a trigger. The memories will return to you, one at a time, when they're supposed to, for the sake of the Plan."

Amy swallowed nervously. "I don't want to forget," she murmured.

Stephen wrapped his arms around her, and Amy tensed herself and pushed away. "No," she declared as she stepped backwards. Stephen seemed hurt, and Amy desperately backpedaled. "I'm waiting for someone," she explained. "He's fighting in the war."

Stephen frowned for a moment, and Amy tried to figure out why. "I understand," he said at last. "He'll probably die out there fighting for his country. You must be proud."

"He won't die," Amy said defiantly. "He'll come back. I know it."

Stephen shook his head. "But if he doesn't," he said, "just know you'll have someone else that understands you. Your friend doesn't know about the Plan, Amy. He can't comprehend. And in a moment, neither will you."

Amy shivered as she cleared her thoughts. "Alright," she said. "I'm ready."

The world seemed to fall apart around her, and she was back at the table. Stephen looked at her and seemed to understand what was happening. "They're returning," he muttered. "The Plan is beginning."

This was good, Stephen decided. It had taken long enough. A year he had been with the unbearable girl. She was nearly a child, and well beyond Stephens' normal interests. At least he had had their pleasures to entertain him. Yet he had needed a way to hold onto her. The girl was their weapon; they would require her when the time came. Now the time was swiftly approaching when at last her usefulness would be dried up. The day when Project Blackbird would go live. The day the clock tower would finally serve its purpose. He looked forward to that day, both for the glory it would bring and the pain he could give the girl that had for a year dragged him down.


Jasper wandered out of the apartment slowly and without purpose. What had happened, he wondered, where had he gone wrong?

Ahead of him, he saw a girl peering at him from off a nearby overhang. At first he thought the girl was Amy; she had the complexion and the inhuman proportions of a half-breed, but her hair was pale amber and mostly covered by a scarf. When the girl noticed him, she pulled herself over the railing and jumped. For a single moment, Jasper feared she would injure herself, but then he watched in amazement and the girl cart wheeled through the air and landed crouched and unhurt in front of him.

Jasper found himself speechless. The girl giggled and opened her mouth, rubbing one of her white fangs with two fingers. She stuck out her other hand and offered to shake. "Nice to meet you," she declared. "My name is Candy."