Coven's Rebellion Chapter 22

Hey all! Coven is continuing to undergo and overhaul, so if you're doing a reread, it might feel a bit jank. If you want to see the old version, it'll stay up on patreon for a while. If you want to see how the rework is going, check out the Fluff version! Specifically with this rework, I'm trying to smooth out the crazy jumps between chapters, like between chapter 7 and chapter 8. I was honestly trying to rush through this story because I wanted to get to the next part of Digital Exodus and there's a reveal that needs to happen in that story for the continuation of Exodus to make sense.

Another thing that was a casualty of my desire to just get through it, was the radicalization and progression of many characters through the arc of revolution. In Exodus, for example, we see a Rosa who when seen from Alia's perspective, is terrifying. I want to show how Rosa gets to that point, but I wasn't really putting that progression onto a realistic gradient. So a few things have changed on that front too. I also realised that there are several interesting scenes about the formation of the Exodus that have been skipped, so I'm adding a few of those in too.

Hopefully the edit and changes work out. I could also do with some help in the Esmie channel on discord. Pre-medication me had an issue with taking notes, so I have no idea what is going on in some of my dustier stories. If you're around there, I'll probably have questions.

Anyway, thanks again for everyone's patience, and I hope you... well, I hope this chapter entertains you. I also hope that I can duck Apollo's dodgeball with this chapter because... yeah. Sorry, USA folks.

Rosa

Rusti led us through the town, out the other side, and into a more rural-adjacent zone. As we trekked, I was struck by the sheer scale of the urban decline. In its heyday, Trenton must've had a population in excess of half a million. Now, the forlorn settlement would've been lucky to house seventy thousand. It made a dark, lonely part of my soul ache for a humble grandeur that was forever lost.

Now, it was home to a people who did their best to keep themselves oppressed. That kind of subservience could only be achieved by planting a seed deep in the formative loam of a person's life. Even the two lawmen following us were victims of this insidious societal conditioning.

I said nothing about them as we moved into the automated farmland plots that appeared beyond the last dilapidated suburban home. Hopefully, action wouldn't be required. I had no interest in engaging with two boots who'd been created for the express purpose of keeping their own friends and family in check.

Unfortunately, the boots weren't terribly competent, and their efforts at stealth were instantly deciphered by my girlfriend.

“We've got a tail,” Amelia murmured as we followed a gentle curve in the road.

Rusti, who under all the comedic wit was actually quite competent, swore and turned us towards the edge of the road. “We'll have to deal with them.”

Disquiet settled within me as we took cover behind a bus stop shelter that was covered in crawling ivy. Across from us was a driveway that led into a lifestyle block similar to mine. Of course, this one was situated outside of a decaying town, rather than on the threshold of true wilderness.

Behind us lay the last few suburban homes of what used to be the outer reaches of Trenton. Their dark, crooked windows stared at us like the eye sockets of a crumbling skull. Over everything was a layer of vegetation that was steadily working to bury it all completely.

The sound of boots on cracked pavements caused all three of us to ready ourselves for action. Ten seconds passed as the tension mounted, until abruptly, they came into view.

With guns drawn and eyes wandering, they weren't caught completely by surprise. One shot rang out before Rusti had disarmed the closest of the officers. Meanwhile, I wove right, ducking around them with liquid precision. I came up on the second officer's left as he turned to bring his sidearm to bear.

Oh. He was… young. I would've been exceptionally surprised if he was over twenty years old.

Instinct carried me through the movement while my brain froze, and the gun went flying as my open palm made contact with his hand. A gasp left him as one, maybe two fingers broke with twig-like snapping sounds.

Beside and behind me, there was a much deeper, more comprehensive cracking sound. I winced, and thinking with as much alacrity as a stunned mind could, I shouldered the young officer to the ground. A split second later, Amelia's hand came into view, holding a knife that dripped blood.

The older officer's body crumpled to the cold pavement, and a dark, viscous liquid slowly leeched out over the ground. The young officer's lungs began to fill, inch by inch, as he prepared a scream. I lunged and took hold of his throat — squeezing just hard enough to kill the sound, without killing him.

I don't know why I was suddenly intent on keeping this boy alive, but I did so.

“Don't kill him,” I whispered to Amelia.

She pulled away, instantly respecting my request. “Should I stop the other one from dying?”

My gut churned. What a choice — and so casually asked, too. My girlfriend was… well, she was the product of six years spent fighting American militia along the northern border.

“Yes,” I said gently.

Without another word, she dragged the man behind the shelter, and pulled a medkit out from where it was strapped to her thigh. A wound knitting bandage was slapped over a slim hole in the man's sternum, and the flow of blood ebbed.

I still had the younger officer by the throat, and the look in his eyes…

When I told Amelia that I was a useful monster, it was because of moments like this. This young man was staring with open terror into the eyes of a machine, piloted by a logic defying swarm of tiny robots that had, at one point, been human. I was the stuff of nightmares, and on a whim, I'd decided he could live.

Or… maybe it wasn't a whim?

“You'll have to be quiet,” I said, unable to settle on a tone to use, so I went with none.

He tried to nod, then winced when the unyielding grip I had on his throat caused him pain.

Slowly, I released him.

“Who are you?” He asked immediately, then just as quickly, he realised he'd spoken and snapped his mouth shut.

“You shouldn't have followed us,” I said, and using one hand pushed him forcefully out of the direct roadway.

The sides of the road were overgrown enough that long distance visibility was limited.

“It was his idea!” The young officer said desperately.

I made a thoughtful sound and eyed him critically. “You realise that we now have a problem, yes? We are attempting to pass through unnoticed, and therefore, the easiest way to maintain our cover is to kill you and your partner.”

He began to shake, and his hands shifted slightly in the direction of a large knife that still sat in a sheath on his belt.

Faster than any human could've hoped to move, I lunged forward, drew it, and retreated back to my starting position. Flipping the knife, I held it by the blade and inspected it nonchalantly. “This is yours?”

His eyes bulged with terrified confusion, but he nodded. “F-from my dad. My sixteenth birthday.”

Meeting his gaze with pointed precision, I took the pad of my thumb and ran it down the edge of the blade. It was the metal of the knife that yielded, not my thumb. “I am dulling this. I assume you can sharpen it again later?”

He had no answer for me. The flesh of my hand had not whitened as I pressed down, because there was no blood to drain with the exertion of my synthetic muscles. My skin had not parted, because it was created from what could only be described as nanotube chainmail. The blade had dulled, because when the polymer flesh of my hand had run out of give, the hardness of my skin was such that the blade was forced to give out.

I saw him realise some aspect of this, and when offered the blade back to him, a sort of shocked curiosity had partially replaced his fear.

“We are not here to hurt you or your town,” I said. “We are just passing through. Now, I ask again that you please refrain from speaking of our passage through here. No harm will come to you, if you do, but in the future, when I am forced to make such a decision again, I will find myself making this same decision with additional input parameters. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he nodded vigorously. “We only followed because… well, John thought that man might be kidnapping you. Since you and the other girl look like nice, young American women, and he looks a bit like Unnie.”

I blinked. “What?”

“It's… nevermind. Nuthin’,” the young man said, shrugging self consciously.

Despite wearing the blue, black, and red uniform of American Republic law enforcement, he lacked the… bearing and temperament of one. It surprised me. Quite a lot, actually. I had an image in my head of what his kind would be like, and he very much did not match it.

I refrained from voicing that opinion. Instead, I asked, “You seem ill equipped to handle the enforcement of law in a border town.”

“We do our best! Not our fault that we don't have much funding,” he said defensively.

I almost laughed. Some things really were universal.

“Hey, this guy is stable now,” Amelia said, peeking out from the shelter. “Rusti isn't sure we can let them go, though.”

“The young officer and I have come to an understanding,” I said, raising a pointed eyebrow at him. “Haven't we?”

“Uh… yes…” he nodded, then in a whisper, he asked, “Are you one of the sixers? Are you one of the blessed martyrs, or…?”

Again, I was baffled. What was a sixer? How did he come to that conclusion after my display with the knife?

“Unsure,” I replied, after a brief moment. Looking back at my girlfriend, I asked, “For how long will he be stable?”

She looked back into the shelter at the body. “Uh… twelve hours, maybe? The medkit will keep him alive for a while.”

Okay, that gave us a little more time. “Rusti, how long until we can vanish?”

“Oh, like an hour or two,” he said confidently.

Well then. That made things relatively simple. The police officers had cuffs, and the shelter would keep them safe while they waited for rescue.

“I know what we can do,” I told them, having already removed the cuffs from the belt of the young officer. “You can call for help in an hour.”

Cuffing him to the shelter was done with a surprisingly minimal amount of fuss, considering what we were doing. In the end, I think he was just relieved to be getting through the encounter with his life.

When everything was set, and we began our journey once more, Amelia shook her head. “Feels odd being that nice to cops.”

“You were a soldier. A great many people would view them as being very similar,” I pointed out, hoping my gentle tone would soften the accusation somewhat.

She pulled a face. “Okay, that doesn’t feel like a fair comparison, and anyway, can you blame an eighteen-year-old for falling for the propaganda? They have that shit down to an art. I left the first chance I got.”

I gave her a pointed look, then glanced back at the young man we’d spared. “Exactly.”

For a moment, I thought she might get upset, but then to my utter relief, she laughed. “Okay, fair point.”

The truth was, on a different day, and under different circumstances, I might not have been so kind. Today, though, they’d just made the decision to follow some suspicious people who were actually suspicious — although not for the reasons they thought. Given that, and the heinous power discrepancy between us, it felt wrong to kill them offhandedly. Perhaps it was that? Perhaps it was how little of a threat they posed to us individually? I wasn’t sure. This whole encounter had caused a storm of confusion and unease within me.

“Rosa, I hope that nobody gives you a reason to throw that empathy away,” Rusti said sombrely, after a handful of seconds were spent in silence.

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that. I didn’t consider myself an overly empathetic person, but nevertheless, my hopes aligned with theirs.