Chương 44: 43 - Words

After Mark was gone Maggie spent a few more minutes waiting atop the central altar, but none of the other cultists seemed keen on stepping up for a chat. They were far too focused on settling in for the imminent download ceremony. Most of them laid down on their backs and folded up their hoods under their heads as makeshift pillows. They were more comfortable than one would think, which was a happy little accident.

When Maggie created these robes she made sure they were soft, thick, and warm since the cult's preferred atmosphere was rather chilly and she would rather not have her followers succumb to the common cold. In doing so she unintentionally created what were basically wearable blankets. One could hardly fault the cult for wanting to sleep in them. Seeing as her presence was not presently required, Maggie stepped down from the podium and effortlessly weaved her way through the sea of lying cultists.

None of them noticed her pass by since she threw up a perception filter. Their eyes and ears would certainly register her presence, but their brains would not acknowledge it. This was Maggie's way of showing consideration by not disturbing any of them as they got as cozy as possible. She could certainly help with that by softening the ground or perhaps raising parts of it as head-rests, but Joe had warned her against coddling the cultists too much. There was a thin line between reverence and dependence.

Speaking of her husband, Maggie's pseudo-invisibility didn't work on him. He'd seen it one too many times from far too up close and his brain pattern-recognitioned past it. Amelia was likewise unaffected, though in her case it was because of her condition. Both of them seemed to realize that the woman was trying to be subtle about her exit, so they resisted the urge to call out to her.

They instead made their own way over – the girl still riding her father's shoulders – and caught up with Maggie just as she made her way out of the chamber's crowded center.

"What's up? No trouble, I hope," Joe immediately asked.

"Why would there be trouble?"

"Because I know that look." It was in the hair. Certain parts of it wiggled a certain way whenever she had something urgent on her mind.

"It's just a minor oversight," she reassured him.

"Really? Huh. Been a while since you had one of those. Wait, let me guess! Uh… You accidentally nicked a fuel line when you remodeled the room, and we'd all be puffs of dust if you weren't keeping it closed with your mind."

"Oh, oh! Ship go boom?!" Amelia's excited exclamation, while innocent, could easily cause distress. It was therefore fortunate that Maggie expanded her anti-perception field to include her and Joe. On that note, It was rather curious that this trick could hide the girl from others but not vice-versa. The woman promptly shuffled that observation towards the back of her mind, lest she subconsciously start trying to 'fix' Amelia's 'problem' again.

"You're right about the cause," she told Joe, "but way off on the problem. Two points." That score was out of ten, meaning it was quite the poor guess indeed.

"Tsk," he clicked his tongue.

"I'll get it next time."

"Then, ship not go boom?" the girl on his shoulders questioned.

"Looks like it, kiddo."

"Aw… No, wait. That's good! Yay!"

"Did you like the show, though?" he shifted the topic.

"Yeah!"

"What was your favorite part?"

"Special effects when Mama came down! She was pwetty!"

"Amy, we spoke about this. Your mama is always pretty."

"Uh, I mean, Mama was extwa pwetty!"

"Your compliment is unnecessary, but appreciated." She showed she meant that by reaching up and gently stroking the girl's hair. She then skillfully and stealthy moved the child from Joe's shoulders onto her own. As usual, he noticed a little too late.

"What the– Again?!" he protested.

"In my defense, there is an 85. 67% chance you are about to stumble."

"Oh, come off it. What, I'm gonna trip on the bloody doorframe? As if!" That would be a monumental feat of clumsiness, seeing as there was no such obstruction. The automatic double doors leading to the exit were already wide open and the transition from 'industrial ritual chamber' to 'swanky hotel corridor' was perfectly smooth. Or so it appeared, but when Joe crossed that threshold he did indeed lurch violently to the side, shoulder bumping into the nearby wall as he momentarily struggled to stay on his feet.

"Uh, okay? What the hell was that?" There was a split-second feeling of… something. It came and went so quickly that he didn't get a chance to process it. The only thing he could say for certain was that it wasn't something internal, like a sudden bout of dizziness. It was kind of like slipping. Or maybe, tripping? Somewhere in the middle? Whatever it was, Maggie clearly knew about it, but explanations would clearly have to wait as Joe just saw her 'minor oversight' marching at her down the hall.

"What did you just do?!" AJ yelled, a mix of anger and panic.

"Woah, woah! Let's not get– Oof!" The man tried to step in front and calm her down, only to have her grab his arm and yank him forward. Sarah kept on going while he stumbled for a few panicked steps and nearly fell, but an invisible helping hand from the wife helped him avoid a tumble. An argument was clearly imminent, so Maggie took a moment to let Amelia down and gently nudged her to go over to her father.

"Good evening, Director–""WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?!" Anyone who knew the veteran psi-op would be concerned by her hysterical state. Emotional control had become a key part in her mental arsenal, so for her to lose it like this implied an absolute catastrophe had taken place. Something on the scale of 'ship go boom,' as Amy put it. Joe knew that and was rightly confused as the ship had not, in fact, gone boom.

He would've been far more understanding if he had even the slightest iota of psychic sensitivity, as Sarah just got hit with the psionic equivalent of a nuclear shockwave. From her perspective, the ship might as well have gone boom. She actually blacked out from the mental impact, and she was one of the most powerful psionics humanity had to offer. Anyone lesser would've probably been leaking brain fluid out of their ears right now.

"I expanded the atrium's space." Sarah scrunched up her face in a mix of confusion and doubt, her eyes darting between Maggie's smug half-smirk and the open doorway behind her. And the more she looked, the more her aching brain said something wasn't right. Like it made her eyes itch. It took a few moments, but then the meaning of Maggie's words hit her.

"Hold on. You expanded the atrium's space?" she realized.

"You mean like, it's bigger on the inside?" Joe did as well.

"Indeed," Maggie proudly declared.

"That's…" Sarah blinked rapidly.

"You can do that?"

"Apparently." Never a good word to hear from a knowledge-obsessed cosmic entity, let alone when uttered with such enthusiasm.

"Bugger me, Maggie," Joe let out a whine.

"You're doing experiments again, aren't you?"

"Why are you surprised? I am quite certain I told you." Joe took a deep, long breath, and exhaled in the same manner. This was a familiar pattern. His wife, brilliant yet reckless scientist that she was, really wanted to try doing a thing. She got so excited thinking about doing the thing that she either neglected to properly communicate her intent to do the thing, or intentionally did so since she knew he or AJ would immediately talk her out of doing the thing.

With good reason, apparently, seeing as how the psi-op had reached a similar conclusion and was moments away from trying to strangle the cheeky Class-4. Joe could literally see the vein pulsing on AJ's forehead. Probably for the best that Grant wasn't here to witness this, otherwise he would've been forced into the unenviable position of having to choose between backing up his furious wife or defending the mentor he owed his career to.

"Please don't be mad, Aunt Sawah." Fortunately for the Mulligans, they had the galaxy's cutest little de-escalator on hand.

"Mama didn't mean to do anything bad. The woom was a bit small, so Mama made it bigguh. She just wanted to help." The child's pleading face and innocent words were difficult enough to resist on their own. Her tiny hand tugging at the hem of Sarah's coat on top of that? Absolutely lethal combination. More importantly, she had a point. Maggie clearly hadn't brain-nuked the unsuspecting woman on purpose.

In some ways, she was to be commended that she waited until she was in low orbit before she tried to pull this experimental spatial fuckery around other people. That psychic blast wave probably stretched out for a few dozen kilometers at the least, maybe even reached triple digits. If that had gone off in the middle of Dave-156, then it was statistically inevitable she would've killed at least one random civilian who didn't even know about their own psionic potential.

Granted, 'it could have been worse' was hardly an effective balm for the fire in Sarah's skull, but that issue had a simple if somewhat embarrassing solution.

"Just ease this bloody overload, will you?"

"Of course." Maggie took a step forward and placed a hand on Director Johanson's scalp. A few seconds later she stepped back and the woman let out a relieved sigh.

"Listen, this can't happen again," the officer spoke calmly yet sternly.

"I know neither of us like it, but I'm responsible for you. Literally the only reason I'm even here." That last part was a lie. This pseudo-cruise of undetermined length was actually the perfect excuse to drag her workaholic husband away from his duties so they could try and patch things up before their marriage fell apart. Admittedly, the fault was shared since her own high-power career had been superbly time-consuming, but she was in the military. She didn't really get to choose which orders to follow.

Detective Maloney, on the other hand, could always take a sabbatical, which was what he'd done. Maggie considered wielding this accidental benefit against Director Johanson, but extending the argument would be pointless. She already knew how the woman would react, not to mention the core of her statement was indeed correct.

"I understand. I shall submit a formal notice for any psionic experiments with uncertain outcomes at least 24 hours in advance, barring standard emergency protocols." Sarah's eye twitched. A notice. Not a request pending approval, but a bloody notice. On second thought, that was still better than getting no heads-up whatsoever. At least she didn't need to worry about those last three words.

Those standard emergency protocols were basically an 'out' in case something truly catastrophic was about to happen and Maggie needed to bypass a few rules to keep her family safe.

"Good enough. Now put that in writing. Without the cult faff." Maggie nodded and conjured one of those technically binding yet utterly redundant contracts. Just a few lines neatly printed on a common sheet of paper rather than the usual bloodied parchment, as per her request. Sarah snatched and stormed off in an indignant huff. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

"Can I get one of those promises?" Joe asked.

"And ruin the surprise?"

"Fair point." He wasn't about to encourage her mad scientist side, but there was no denying he ultimately enjoyed the emotional rollercoaster that followed. Kept things fresh and exciting.

"And you!" he knelt down and ruffled Amy's hair.

"When did you become such a smooth talker, huh?"

"Hehehe!" she giggled.

"That's my secwet!"

"Ah… It's finally happened, Maggie. Our daughter's keeping secrets from us! I think I'm gonna cry!" He put on a big frown and pantomimed rubbing tears from his eyes.

"Itchy says Papa sucks at acting."

"Oi! You tell Itchy to mind what words he's teaching you!"

"But… Itchy doesn't know any wuhds."

"Indeed," Maggie nodded.

"Yassari are incapable of processing speech. They communicate through intent and imagery." Meaning any foul language Amy picked up most likely came from Joe.

"Right. Anyway, about this door," he thumbed at the spatially-distorted ritual chamber.

"Are the lads not gonna trip over themselves like I did?" He didn't exactly trip. It was more the case of his legs and eyes being unable to cope with the subtle shift in relativity. The phenomenon was similar to that mental and physical jolt of taking one too many steps at the top of the stairs, but in multiple simultaneous directions.

Maggie judged it wasn't worth correcting this minor error in Joe's statement as he would file it away under 'space magic stuff that makes my brain hurt' instead of actually trying to comprehend it.

"Most definitely." She instead simply confirmed his worries with a nod.

"Are you… going to do anything about it?"

"No." She just decided that seeing how the cultists would adapt to that awkward gap would be a little experiment all its own.

"Well, I'm sure they won't mind," he shrugged.

"Half of them are probably gonna get a kick out of it. So, what's on the agenda now?"

"Not much. Still waiting for everyone to fall asleep for the download ceremony." The event's informal name as well as its theatrical label of 'Great Communion' were technically accurate. It boiled down to Maggie implanting a small library's worth of information directly into each cult member's brain. The procedure was invasive and intensive, which was why she had them knock themselves out with prescription medication that dulled mental activity and prevented REM sleep. Just easier for everyone involved that way.

She'd done this several times before, so she had a firm handle on the process by now. Furthermore, it could be done remotely, meaning she didn't actually need to stick around the ritual chamber.

"And, uh," Joe winced a little, "I probably should've asked this earlier, but does the government mind that you're making a bunch of weirdos in robes into trained soldiers overnight?" If all went according to plan – and there was no feasible reason it wouldn't – the Cult of the Gazing Star would wake up with all the relevant knowledge, muscle memory, and practical skills required to crew the Jolly Good Show. Not any ship. Just this one. Very important distinction.

They'd also need a few days for the 'download' to be fully absorbed, and even then they'd perform no better than freshly graduated cadets. The process was hardly flawless or all-powerful, but it still saved the cultists anywhere from two to eight years' worth of training, depending on their assigned post.

"Please, Joe. Of course they don't mind. If anything, they're eager to see them in action." That was, in fact, one of the conditions for giving Maggie so much operational freedom on this extended outing. The Navy was especially interested in her 'speed-training' proposal, though they expressed some doubts regarding its feasibility, mostly in terms of long-term retention. Maggie had a lot of data on the process and its side-effects, but most of it was deemed unsuitable since it concerned far less…

intensive downloads. Like how to harmonize as a choir, basic first aid and fire safety, or all three volumes of How to Interpret Eldritch Entities for Morons by Joe Mulligan. Seeing how well a bunch of coddled civilians handled a military vessel over the course of months, potentially years, would serve as irrefutable proof of concept.

"Fair enough," he shrugged.

"What about our route? Did you figure out where we're going first?" That had actually been a surprisingly difficult decision. Having her own wormhole generator, practically unlimited funds, and Empire-backed diplomatic status, Maggie could take the Jolly Good Show anywhere within the Federation, regardless if it was human space or not. Going beyond those borders was also possible, if more politically complicated. Meaning there were a lot of options to choose from.

Furthermore, she didn't have just her own preferences to consider, but also Joe's enjoyment and Amelia's development. The cultists were of no concern since almost all of them were chuffed just to be along for the ride. The few who weren't stayed behind on Butterpond-4 to hold down the fort, as it were. So far Maggie managed to narrow things down to three potential locations and intended to present those to her family to get their own opinions.

The only reason she hadn't done so already was because an outside influence had thrown a wrench in her plans.

"Nearly, though I'm afraid we'll need to make a quick detour first. Orders from Director Johanson."

"Wait. AJ's your boss now?"

"In a manner of speaking." Technically, the woman was Maggie's superior as far as the chain of command went. In practice, she was little more than a go-between for the Class-4 and the people with actual authority. The aforementioned orders didn't really come from Director Johanson herself. She was merely passing them along. As for her role on this expeditionary voyage, that would be more or less the same as it always was.

Monitoring Maggie and sending regular reports on her activities made up the bulk of her day-to-day duties. Her only additional responsibility was to maintain readiness to scapegoat herself whenever the inevitable international incident occurred.

"Don't wuhwy, Mama! I still love you mowe than Aunt Sawah!"

"I know, but thank you." Maggie bent over and placed an affectionate peck on Amelia's head.

"So, what's the detour?" Joe asked hesitantly.

"New London, in the Westminster system." The man took a moment to center himself mentally, spiritually, and physically with another meditative breath, then asked the obvious follow-up that Maggie was clearly looking forward to.

"Why?"

"The Queen wishes to meet us."

"Oh. Oh! That's great!"

"You seem relieved," she squinted.

"Why?"

"I just thought you got roped into, uh… staging a coup or… something. That's… that's not what this is, right?"

"No. It is purely a social call."

"Well, blimey! Count me in!" he said with the goofiest grin imaginable.

"Always wanted to meet the Queen, tell her what a bang-up job she's doing." Maggie felt the urge to question it was, exactly, that the so-called Eternal God-Queen Mechalizabeth II actually did. As far as her extensive online research suggested, she was little more than a figurehead. Plenty of influence, but very little actual power. The British Parliament did the actual governing, and they were all publicly elected officials so, for all intents and purposes, the 3BE was a straight-up democracy.

The woman ultimately decided to save those questions for the entirely regent herself. Joe wouldn't have the answers and she didn't want to put a damper on his good mood.

"Wait, can Amy come to meet her, too?"

"Indeed." The orders she received – effectively an invitation – mentioned the family of three specifically. Apparently Maggie's recent efforts to stir the pot had caught the Queen's attention and interest.

"Isn't that great, Amy?!" he merrily picked up the girl and bounced her around on his elbow.

"We get to see the Queen!"

"Who?"

"You know, the nice robot lady in the picture that we wave to every morning."

"Oh… Mama, what's a queen?" There was a brief moment of silence as the parents looked at each other. Neither of them ever bothered to explain that little detail to her, did they? Fortunately, Maggie had years of experience dumbing things down for Joe's sake, and Amelia wasn't all that far below him.

"She's everyone's boss. The biggest boss. She bosses other bosses around." Maybe not Mechalizabeth II specifically, but that was how royalty was supposed to function.

"Uh… huh…"

"Something else on your mind."

"Boss is a stwange wuhd."

"Most words are. Language as a whole is one of the worst things humanity has ever created."

"Come off it," Joe scoffed.

"It's not that bad. Right?"

"You take a perfectly understandable concept, compress it into a collection of arbitrary noises, then spend centuries arguing about what those noises are supposed to mean. Worse still, you expect everyone else to somehow know the invisible rules governing those meanings." She clearly had some strong opinions on the subject, given the sudden rant.

"Well, excuse us for not being able to transmit pictures with our minds." That wasn't at all what Maggie was getting at. She was merely venting some frustration at how horribly inconsistent and inefficient languages always were. English especially was an absolute mess. Though, she couldn't be too mad about it. She might never have known the joys of love and motherhood if not for the monumental misunderstanding that happened when she first met Joe. That dumb, innocent question of, 'So, like, you wanna be mates?'

had been both the worst and best choice of words.

"Oh, oh, oh! Can I make a new wuhd?"

"You can certainly try," Maggie said, "but it won't be easy."

"I wanna twy!" It would appear Amelia was rather fixated on this topic, and her mother would gladly do her best to enlighten her while her father wisely kept his big dumb mouth shut and just kept carrying the girl in his arms.

"Well… First you'd need a new idea, trend, or invention. Something that there is no word for. Do you have something like that in mind?"

"Uh…" The girl scrunched up her face as she racked her pretty little head for any potential candidates. No doubt she was experiencing the same kind of choice paralysis that Maggie herself had been struggling with before that royal invitation came. Perhaps a bit of direction wouldn't go awry.

"How about a feeling? Something that you already feel but don't know the word for."

"Oh, I know, I know! The funny feeling I got when Mama made that woom bigguh!" So she sensed something strange was going on, but it wasn't intense enough to negatively affect her? This was news to Maggie. The urge to know more intensified and took shape. She wanted to seize Ic'thagrig by one of its throats and force it to spit out what insights into Amelia's consciousness it had gleaned through their pseudo-parasitic bond.

"That'll do," she smiled and nodded instead.

"And what sounds do you think would convey that meaning?"

"How about 'goam?'""I'm afraid that's already taken." That wasn't exactly a deal breaker, but Maggie would rather spare her daughter the horrors of homonyms and homophones for now.

"Nix?"

"Also taken."

"Uh… woe!"

"Good try, but also taken."

"Nnn!" Joe quietly snorted a laugh as he idly bounced the pouting Amy in his arms. Watching his daughter suffer through the dreaded 'name not available' conundrum was more entertaining than he cared to admit.

"Try something that starts with a weird sound," he suggested.

"Something hard to say." Amy's face lit up as if she'd been told one of the universe's deepest secrets. So, without further ado, she belted out the first weird thing that popped into her head.

"Xnop-fft?!" It was a jarring sight, like something out of a movie. A badly edited one. In one frame, the family of three was just standing around having a silly little chat in an empty hallway. In the next, Maggie had plucked Amelia from Joe's arms and shoved two fingers into the girl's mouth to physically block her lips, teeth, and tongue. An inexplicable thunder and violent gust of wind exploded around her, startling the other two something fierce.

It was reality's way of protesting whatever Maggie had just done. The rest of her family had a few understandable objections of their own, but they got stuck in their throats the instant they saw the woman's face. The smile of the universe's most patient mother was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed, flat-mouthed, stiff-jawed expression. Her glare wasn't aimed at either of the other two, but fixated on the spot where the father held his daughter mere moments ago.

The unusual intensity in her swirling, glowing, alien irises hinted she was looking for something as only The Observer could. Joe leaned heavily against the wall, having been pushed into it by that sudden shockwave. He was still processing this sudden development, relieved that things seemed to be under control yet also deeply troubled by the expression Maggie wore. He'd seen it only once before, when she first realized that her own daughter was her nigh-imperceptible anathema.

Amy had barely left her mother's belly at the time, yet she still knew what that look meant the instant Maggie's eyes snapped to meet hers. It was a profoundly human face that anyone could understand.

"Amelia." Maggie's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, yet as firm as titanium.

"Whatever happens, no matter how scared, angry, or excited you get, and regardless of whether anyone is around to hear it, you must absolutely never utter that word." She slowly pulled her hand out of the little one's mouth, allowing her to speak.

"Is… is it bad?" the girl squeaked out." Extremely. It would make your father and I very, very sad. Understand?"

"Yes, Mama…" Maggie's frozen face softened and she hugged her daughter tightly, a gentle hand stroking her head.

"Good girl. I'm sorry for scaring you."

"I'm okay. I'm sowwy too, Mama." Though she tried to put on a brave face, anyone could tell the girl was on the verge of tears. She buried her face in her mother's chest and desperately clung to her black dress as tightly as her tiny hands would allow. Joe joined in a few heartbeats later, his arms wrapping firmly around his wife's waist from behind. The close proximity made his heavy breaths and rapid heartbeat all the more obvious. It was rare for him to be this agitated.

After living with Maggie for so many years he'd been thoroughly desensitized to these seemingly inexplicable outbursts, but this one was different precisely because he understood a small yet crucial part of it. The expression she'd made earlier was one of all-consuming terror, and there was but a single thing that could make Magh'rathlak the Observer feel that way. It was the fear of losing a loved one.