Requiem
REQUIEM CAME to consciousness slowly, his eyes fluttering as they opened. He was alarmed for a moment to see how blurry everything was and then remembered he was in an immersion tank. Figures rushed back and forth beyond the glass, and then one walked up to the tank. It took him a minute to recognize Damion placing his palm against the tank, fingers splayed. Still groggy, Requiem moved his hand slowly through the gelatin, eventually placing it on the glass, matching Damion’s. There was a tug from above, and he was pulled from the liquid. He noticed a male doctor walk into the unit and take a small data pad from a nurse.
Damion tilted his head up to look to the top of the platform and gave Requiem a small grin. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You feeling better?”
The nurses brought Requiem down, laying him on a table so that they could dry him off and assess his injuries. He glanced up at the polished backside of an overhead light. His reflection showed bruises still covered him, though now they looked as if they had been healing for a few days—still blue and purple, but with greens and yellows interspersed around the edges. Both eyes could open, but his right one was bloodshot. And he was very sore, but not in agony.
“I am… acceptable,” Requiem finally replied in a hoarse voice as soon as the nurse removed the mouthpiece.
“Acceptable, yes, but not well enough for duty,” the doctor said as he walked up with a clear portable console in one hand. Words scrolled across the screen. “You had a concussion, three broken ribs that punctured your left lung, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and your spleen had ruptured. Not only that, but some of your input ports were damaged.” The doctor looked up at Damion, his face serious. “What the hell happened? Did he get hit by a transport truck?” His expression showed he blamed Damion completely.
“Arkin,” Damion said simply, giving the doctor a glare. “I responded a bit too late.” He came over to the examination table and touched the top of Requiem’s damp head.
A tension that Requiem didn’t know he had been holding released, and he let out an inaudible sigh and opened his eyes. “Your response was in acceptable parameters from the time I contacted you. It was my tactical error that brought me within range of a subject I knew to be volatile.”
The doctor frowned. “I don’t know why they keep giving that man Cores. It seems like every other week I’m repairing one or examining one for cause of death. I’ve submitted many reports, but they’re ignored every time because of Arkin’s fighting skills. That man makes me sick. He’s psychotic. If the Creators and Command weren’t so damn adamant in having him stay in the Alpha squad I could have filed a motion for dismissal.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Arkin pushed too far this time.” Damion scowled as he kept petting the top of Requiem’s head.
“And killing five Cores,”—the doctor’s irritation was clear in his tone—”Almost six, is not already pushing it too far?”
“I know, the Commander won’t stop him.” Damion responded, and Requiem would hypothesize Damion’s arms were also crossed. “How long will he be down? He will lie to me if I ask him. His pain tolerance is too high.”
“His pain tolerance is what kept him standing for that long. It’s extraordinary,” the doctor said, his eyes full of possibilities as he looked down at Requiem.
“I cannot lie to my Fighter. I can merely work around the truth,” Requiem mumbled, showing that he was not asleep.
The doctor shook his head. “At least a week. We’ve repaired most of the damage, but the tissue and bones are still soft, so he must rest for that long so that the body can heal his remaining injuries naturally.”
“Looks like we are out of the sims this week, and you shouldn’t work on the Ares either.”
Requiem turned his head at the second command, looking directly at Damion. This time the sigh was audible as he closed his eyes once again. “As my Fighter commands.”
“You shouldn’t even jack in for a few days. Let the ports that were damaged repair. I’ve already sent in my report to operations, so they know that you won’t be in the system for a few days. They were reluctant, but I was determined,” the doctor said. “I was amazed to see the number of input ports that were installed on his body,” the doctor continued. “Was this something you had ordered for a particular reason, Hawk?”
Damion snorted. “No. I haven’t even seen them all. Is there something different about them from other Cores?”
“Other than he has more, no. They’re the same, but while the typical Core has about ten or eleven, he has twenty-two in total if my count was correct. I’ve never seen a Core with so many input ports.”
Requiem felt the doctor smooth a thumb over one of the ports in the back of his bicep. His eyes opened again, watching the doctor with a blank expression.
Damion frowned. “Who puts the ports in?” He eyed Requiem critically.
“I did. Or rather, requested the Creators to install them,” Requiem whispered after a few moments of that penetrating stare. “They help me get deeper into the system to better assist my Fighter.”
Damion rubbed his left temple. “Let’s go back to our quarters.”
“I don’t think that’s wise at this time,” the doctor protested. “Core 47 did take an extensive amount of damage to many of his internal organs, and while they’re healing I would like to continue monitoring him.”
Requiem’s gaze stayed connected to Damion’s. “Back to our quarters. Please.”
“That’s what I said.” Damion gently helped Requiem off the examination table.
Requiem’s legs were still shaky and very weak. He clung to Damion while trying to appear as if he were standing under his own power.
The doctor followed them toward the door. “I really must protest against this. Core 47 should stay in Med Bay for at least another day so that we can do some tests to make sure he’s healing correctly. If you take him out of our care now, we don’t know if you’ll be able to get him back here in time if something goes wrong.”
“No offense, Doc, but I won’t leave him anywhere Arkin will have direct access to.”
“You think we can’t protect him here? Med Bay is under constant surveillance.” The doctor’s voice rose in anger, following them out the doors. “If you take him from my care, I won’t be responsible if something happens because of your neglect!”
“Why does he think I would be negligent in watching over you?” Damion looked at Requiem and frowned. “Okay, he has a small point since I let you be attacked.”
A mumbled “Stupid Fighters” came from the doctor before he stomped back into Med Bay.
“You did not let me be attacked. It was my own error that took me past Arkin’s quarters and therefore put me unattended in his sights. I am the only one at fault for my injuries,” Requiem replied quietly, his voice strained. He knew Damion wouldn’t argue with him.
“The doctor also wants to study you.”
“Probable. I have avoided the Med Bay and any doctors for this reason as well as others until now.” Requiem found himself very sleepy all of a sudden. It was becoming more and more difficult to put one foot in front of the other. “If I may offer some advice, please warn Fighter Juni of the assault. I think it would be wise to inform him so that 108 does not travel alone, as I did, and therefore avoids Arkin.”
Damion effortlessly picked up Requiem once again as the elevator opened to their floor, “Damn, I feed you, but you don’t gain any weight. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him everything once we get you comfortable.”
“I am not worried. Just cautious.” Requiem’s voice was strained from the pain of being picked up, his many bruises and half-healed wounds becoming apparent. He was silent for a few minutes as Damion carried him. “I must admit to not knowing what to do since I cannot jack in to my capsule. This has never happened before.”
“You can sleep in my bed.”
Damion’s tone wasn’t joking or sarcastic.
“That would be unacceptable. Where would you rest?” Requiem paused for a moment, leaning his head on his Fighter’s shoulder. “I have never retired outside of the capsule. Nor have I ever slept while not plugged in.”
“It’s big enough for both of us as long as you don’t kick. I think.” Damion narrowed his eyes at Requiem, expecting a challenge.
“I… do not know. Being plugged into the system is similar to being in a cryogenic state. A Core’s mind is not fully within his body, but instead in the system,” Requiem explained, another unfamiliar feeling clutching at his chest. He thought it might be called… anxiety. Maybe worry. He didn’t know.
“You’ll be fine. It’s just until you are healed enough so you won’t blow your synapses up or whatever happens when a port gets damaged.” Damion’s shoulders relaxed as they made their way to their quarters. “I won’t leave your side tonight.”
“It is highly improbable that Arkin will attack me in our quarters. It would be tactically unwise. There is no reason why you should keep surveillance over me all night. I am certain Fighter Juni would appreciate your company and the warning you will bring to him and 108 concerning Arkin.”
“I can send him a wave through the comm in the room. It will do.” Damion let out a tired breath as he looked at the back of Requiem’s arms. “You always have to push things too far. Why do you have so many ports?”
“I have already explained. It helps me enter the system deeper, therefore I comprehend more and control more. It also helps me conceive what I need to do to create new defensive and offensive weaponry for the Ares. It lets me make the impossible possible.” He kept his eyes closed so that he did not have to look at Damion’s face. He knew Damion was upset with him for many different reasons, and he regretted being a Core that was a hindrance to his Fighter, instead of a help.
Damion was silent the rest of the way to their room. Once they entered it, he set Requiem carefully down on the bed and gave him a firm look. “Stay in the bed unless you need to use the shower or toilet.”
Requiem looked at him for a moment before lowering his gaze. “As you order.” He wrapped his arms loosely around his chest and tucked his knees up as far as his injuries would allow. Being clothed in nothing but boxers in front of anyone except himself in the mirror caused an interesting feeling, not to mention a chill that ran through him, which was something he wasn’t used to. It was possible his body temperature was below normal parameters.
Damion gave a few pets to the top of Requiem’s head before moving away. He went to his drawer and pulled out one of his of duty shirts. It was quite a bit larger than Requiem needed.
He handed the shirt to Requiem. “I’m going to wave at Juni now.”
Requiem blinked at the clothing before pulling it on over his head. He was swimming in it, but he felt better now. Suddenly tired but not tired enough to sleep, he eased down in the bed, making himself small against the wall as he laid his head on the pillow. He was intrigued at how much more comfortable the bed was compared to his pod. Although he didn’t feel physical discomforts as much when he was in the system, so he supposed the relative discomfort of the pod didn’t matter.
Damion turned on the comm and told Fighter Juni what happened. First Juni was surprised, then cursed about Arkin, and finally showed concern for Damion and Requiem.
Damion sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes with thumb and pointer finger. “We’ll be fine. Just don’t let 108 out by himself.”
“I apologize for being the cause of so much strife,” Requiem said quietly as soon as the comm connection ended. “I did not hypothesize that this would happen.”
“You have to stop apologizing,” Damion grumbled as he turned in the chair to look at him. “Seriously, you can’t control the future.”
Requiem sat up, leaning against the wall. “Nothing is impossible. I should have done a logical hypothesis of the situation when I terminated my previous Fighters.” He bowed his head, looking to the side. “I just did not see any other choice.”
Damion shook his head. “We aren’t meant to know the future.”
“But we can hypothesize,” he replied. “Through proper situational analysis we can identify certain alternatives to various encounters. I just… did not have time.”
Damion gave him a warm smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“You cannot say that because it is not true,” Requiem said as he finally looked up. “I did kill those other Fighters. For many different reasons, but in the end, I did terminate them. That is the catalyst for the chain of events that have caused you so much strife up to this point. So yes, it is my fault.” He paused, looking down again for only a moment until he raised his gaze again to meet Damion’s. “And if you ordered me to, I would also terminate Arkin.”
“You killed to protect yourself. That is called self-defense.” Damion sat next to him and sighed. “As for Arkin, I want him dead. I should be the one to kill him, but if they catch me, we’ll both be terminated.”
“I could kill him.” Requiem tilted his head slightly, making sure his full attention was on Damion while he made this offer. “It would be… appropriate.”
Damion’s mouth twisted into that tight line. “You hate him just as much as I do, I know, but I don’t want you risking your life.”
“I do not hate Arkin. I just do not see any benefit from his continued existence. He does not bring anything productive to the Chrysalis Corporation or the Zeus. He is more a hindrance and a danger,” Requiem stated logically, finally easing back in the way he was sitting and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I… do not have to get near him to terminate him.”
“That sounds like hate to me,” Damion pointed out. “How can you kill him if not in person?”
Requiem was confused. What he said had been logical, not emotional. He would think more on it later. “If he were near any electrical object—the pod, an access point, his terminal—I may be able to electrocute him. Or I can trap him in the shower while he is bathing and dial up the heat too high. Any number of ways. I could even get into the Hephaestus’s systems, but I do not know if Arkin will be flying his Zodiac without a Core until I access those systems.”
Damion flinched a bit at Requiem’s cold and clinical way of talking about death—about murder. “You’ve thought about this… a lot.”
“I anticipated this situation,” Requiem replied after a moment, looking down at his hands so that he didn’t have to see the look in Damion’s eyes. “I surmised that you would not be able to terminate Arkin yourself, so I began to think of ways to keep both of us safe.”
“I think I feel a bit more worthless now, but what you said is true. We need to take care of him.” Damion rubbed his forehead. “How do you want to do this?”
“In the end, it is up to you,” Requiem said quietly, then closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. Pain shot through him as he released the breath from his still healing lungs. “I will not be able to do anything for a few days until my input ports are healed.”
“You should never rush to kill.” Damion moved so he could pull Requiem close to his side with one arm around his shoulders. “Now you rest.”
Requiem’s eyes widened for a split second, barely perceptibly, before he smoothed his features again. He was tucked under his Fighter’s arm, his head on Damion’s chest. He hesitated for a moment before releasing the tension in his sore body. Slowly moving an arm to wrap around Damion’s waist, he closed his eyes. It was an interesting feeling, being held by someone. Warm and… safe.
He was quiet for a moment or two before speaking again. “I mean no disrespect when I ask you this, but… I am… intrigued as to why you treat me with such… kindness.”
Damion turned his gaze on Requiem and a chuckle escaped. “You are my Core.”
“But many others have Cores and do not treat them like you or Juni does. It…. I suppose the word is confusion. It confuses me,” Requiem mumbled, weariness dragging at him. “Explain please?”
“We treat you like human beings.” He tilted Requiem’s chin up and looked at him.
“That does not explain why,” Requiem replied softly, opening his eyes as soon as he felt Damion’s gentle fingers on his face. “As much as we are told otherwise, we Cores know that despite all the modifications to our bodies, we are, in truth, human. But you are the first non-Core I have ever met who also believes so.”
“Everyone should still remember you are indeed a living person. Even if your modifications make you special, it doesn’t change the fact that you deserve to be treated equally.”
Requiem blinked as his Fighter’s warm breath tickled his skin. And then Damion’s lips were on his own slightly parted ones, firmly pressing against them. Requiem knew there was a meaning to this that wasn’t aggression. The last Fighter he had had before Damion had done the same but violently, forcing Requiem’s mouth open so that the man could thrust his tongue inside, nearly choking him. This was different. This was… nice, and Requiem didn’t feel threatened in the least. He also didn’t know what he was supposed to do or what Damion meant by it.
Damion blinked and pulled away. “Sorry. I—I shouldn’t have done that. We should sleep.”
Requiem tilted his head slightly, momentarily confused. “I… did not mind. But you seem to have.”
“I should not have done that.” Damion rolled his shoulders forward and put his head in his hands.
“Then why did you?” Requiem questioned softly, sounding much like a child, but he didn’t understand. “I am yours to do with as you wish, yet you have never forced me to do anything I did not want to do. I… am grateful for that.” He paused for a moment, licking his lips, intrigued by the momentary difference in taste. “I did not mind what you just did.”
Damion shivered as he turned his head and watched the tip of Requiem’s pink tongue run along his lips. “Because I shouldn’t use you for sex. You should only have sex that is consensual.”
Requiem unconsciously frowned, still very confused. No one had ever asked him if he wanted to have sex. The Fighter usually took it as a benefit, another service that a Core was supposed to provide. It had only happened to Requiem twice, and he knew that if he had protested either time, he would have been disciplined by the Fighter or Creators. He had no aspiration of staying in the Creator Medical Unit for a week for programming modifications or to be beaten needlessly when it was easier to submit. So he had lain there and tried to ignore the pain until the Fighter was done. This idea that he had a choice in the matter of sex confused him, and he could not understand why Damion would not just take.
Damion
“CORES DO not have that liberty. We provide whatever service a Fighter wants, to make his life easier. I do not comprehend how sex is different… how it is a… consensual idea.”
“That’s why I shouldn’t have done that and confused you.” Damion didn’t know what had come over him, but he was determined to not let it happen again. “When you figure out what consensual is, then perhaps you’ll understand.”
“I know what the word means,” Requiem replied, almost snappishly, looking up at Damion through his bangs. “I just do not know how it applies to a Core. Are you saying that a Core has a choice to… have sex… willingly?”
“Yes. That’s it.” Damion nodded quickly.
Requiem was silent for a moment, looking into nothing as he thought. “Why… why would anyone want to?” he finally asked quietly, his head falling back to rest on Damion’s chest. “It… it is painful.”
“It’s not supposed to be.” Damion felt like he was having this talk with a prepubescent, which, in the scope of social experience, at least, Requiem was. Damion had been taken by his older brother to a local bar and hooked up with a woman nearly ten years older than him. There was a lot to the theory an experienced lover was better than an inexperienced one. From there on out he had no problem hitting up his own dates. His father passed on few words of wisdom other than to be respectful. Requiem had no brothers to hook him up or go to with questions. He mentally kicked himself—again—for the actions he had taken to cause Requiem’s confusion.
“Then why has it always been that way? What way is it supposed to be?”
“Because that was rape.” Damion didn’t know what else to call it, and the conversation was awkward enough as it was.
“I understand. But I still do not understand how else it is supposed to be. From my understanding the word rape is used for nonconsensual sex that is painful, correct? What do you call sex that is consensual?”
“Uh… good sex.” Damion pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. “Some romantics call it making love. There is a goddess and god who are in charge of that shit.”
“Love is an emotion I am not familiar with,” Requiem stated and then sat up slightly. “I am making you uncomfortable with my questions. I apologize. I will stop. I am only trying to understand better about the subject and also attempt to comprehend what you think you did wrong.”
“You don’t have to be apologetic. I just don’t know how the hell to explain a few things. Since we were raised differently and you don’t… you don’t feel your emotions the same, it’s like the square peg, round hole problem.”
“I do not have emotions. At least I and the other Cores are not supposed to. I find lately that….” Requiem eyed him warily before confessing, “I find lately that I am having… feelings that are unfamiliar to me within my chest. I do not understand what they are, but they are there. I appreciate your attempt at trying to help me understand. Maybe it is beyond my abilities to do so.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Right now I think we both need sleep.” Yes, escaping into unconscious bliss and away from the talk of sex when he wanted… well, Damion didn’t quite know what he wanted.
“Affirmative. I am very weary,” Requiem agreed, punctuating it with a yawn. “I do admit to having some reservations about resting outside of my capsule.” He eyed his usual bed with a look of regret. But it didn’t last long, as his previous ordeal finally caught up with him and he drifted off to sleep.