"I do understand why you're here," he says with a slow nod, "but..." he looks up at her, "I have spent the time since I read this? Making myself not message Jacobi. To ask if he knows a way to demolish a castle underwater."
He glances down at the file.
"...there is not a person in this file. Other than you? I don't want to punch in the face. Repeatedly." He looks back to her. "You deserve better. You deserved better."
Ulla goes very still, her eyes widening. She doesn't trust his sincerity.
And moreover, she doesn't know what to do with it.
She's silent for a long moment, because what is there to say to someone
telling you that you deserve better than anyone in anyone in your life has
ever given you?
"Roffe has the sort of face it would be a particular pleasure to punch,"
she notes. That's the easiest part to respond to. The rest... "Since when
do people get what they deserve?"
Roffe and Signy will, if Ulla has her way. But she's here, with no way to
get at them unless she graduates.
Her response is? Pretty much what he was expecting. And he’s pleased that he’s got that kind of read on her, because it speaks well to what they’re going into. He didn’t tell her that for brownie points or to try and curry her trust; he’s well aware, given what she went through, that he’ll have to earn that up hills both ways in the snow without shoes.
And he’s here for it.
“They don’t,” he agrees with her, “unless… someone does something about it.”
He takes a piece of fruit himself.
“So… what do we want to do about it?” He dips his head to her. “I’m not skipping out on responsibility here. But I graduated from a partnership. So I happen to think that’s how it works best. I won’t expect, or demand, trust. When, or if, you do? It’ll be earned. It’ll happen when, or if, it’s going to happen. But I will do my damndest to be genuine with you. And up front. And if you ever have a question of me, you’ll get the best answer I have.”
The doubtful look in Ulla's eyes says that she doesn't expect to trust him,
or anyone, again. She doesn't want to. She can feel the tug of it
every time she likes someone here. The way liking leads to friendship
leads to trust. And so she stops at the first step, not wanting any true
friends. Not wanting the temptation to lean on anyone. To need them.
"I do," he says with a nod, "which is why I'm going to play with my cards completely on the table, including all the awkward. unhelpful. emotional. irrational. and frankly? embarrassing parts. out there for you to see. And when you hear my file? You'll get a taste of how... hard. That is for me. Straightforward? Is not how I've ever operated."
He takes a piece of fruit and lets his shoulders drop.
"It's messy. But. It is what it is."
He pops it into his mouth, chews and swallows.
"Is there anything specifically. that you'd like to know. right off the bat?"
"The more open people are, the more vulnerabilities they share." She
recognizes it as a gesture of trust, or more likely an overture - an
attempt to earn hers.
Ulla was always straightforward. Even now, she's not quite sure how to be
otherwise. "I was never very good at hiding mine. Roffe scolded me for it,
saying that that ambition ought to be guarded like a secret, not shouted
like a curse." And she liked him for it then. For letting her see
the cunning hidden under his charm.
Ulla wants to listen to Warren's file before she asks about him. She
doesn't know what to ask. So she asks about herself, instead. "Not yet.
Does your promise not to take my magic from me hold true?" He knows what
she can do with it now.
Both and neither; he won’t ask for trust, and this is the closest thing he can offer to her. To the first comment, he huffs in disdain.
“‘Roffe’ had the luxury of being able to hide his ambition. Not because he was good at it? But because a lack of ambition in the rich and powerful, combined with mediocrity? Is almost expected. Whereas people like you. Brilliant and underappreciated? People will assume ambition regardless. They know perfectly well that you’re not stupid enough to accept how you’re treated now. What he did to you… it’s called ‘negging’. It’s used to make you feel smaller. Less. More vulnerable. Less capable than you are. It’s to convince you that you need them for something.”
He tilts his head.
“You’ll discover that I’ve done a lot of horrible things. By listening to that file. But that? Is the kind of thing I cannot abide.”
He spreads a hand towards her because he knows, ultimately, her main concern is the last question.
“Your magic? I will never take that from you. Even if you kill me. Even if you kill Jacobi. Even if a dozen people in this place tell me that I should. Even if you drown us all. It is not happening.”
He looks to her face.
“I’ve read that file. And I know how to read a file. I know how to read between the lines on people. It’s part of what I did for years in my job. And quite frankly? You’re one of the only people on this boat. That feels like my kind of people. The kind of person I would have demanded I get to recruit.”
He lets his shoulders sink a little.
“If you use magic in a way I don’t like? There will be a damn good reason. I know that. Already. And my first priority? Will be to find out what that reason is. Not make you ‘less’.”
Ulla studies him as he talks, drinks in his vehemence as he lists examples.
Trust isn't something she's willing to give, but he seems sincere enough
that she can at least summon up cautious optimism. "Thank you."
After a small pause, she admits, "I work custodial shifts because cleaning
magic is easy and because Arthur promised to speak on my behalf if a warden
ever wanted to take my power from me. It's little enough leverage, but it
was what I had, when I had no idea who my warden would be." She'll probably
keep showing up to work, but she feels less like she has to.
"And I suppose the Admiral did the recruiting, but we're bound together
now."
He nods, because he gets that. He'd worked in various positions on the Barge to engender good opinions of himself, a half-dozen favors worth of good will he could call on if he needed them. Some of those people aren't here anymore, but he doesn't regret doing it. They might come back, after all.
"Do you think you can keep up with the pool, given the changes we made? I'm assuming they were so the place'd be more hospitable for you?"
But he keeps going, addressing the last.
"We're paired, that's true enough. But if you ever feel like you can't work with me? Or something I've done makes you uncomfortable... I would be willing to put in a request to unpair us. Now... I don't see that happening. And I don't want it to happen? And I can't think of something I'd want to do that I see you being upset by. But. I'll make that promise right now."
"I'll keep the pool clean." She might even keep cleaning the rest of the
ship, but she'll certainly do that part. Making the place more hospitable
to her wasn't the entire goal of their changes, but it was a significant
part. "The water burned my gills before we changed it. I'd only spent a few
seconds in there."
She's surprised by the offer, but unless something goes horribly wrong,
she'd rather stay with a known quantity than reenter the lottery of
temporary assignments. It isn't a request she anticipates making. Ulla
shakes her head.
"My third," he says immediately, and there's... there's a lot there, if she's looking. If she wants to see it. Pain, guilt, anger. The rough edges of a man not quite whole yet, whatever the Admiral might say about it.
"Jacobi is my partner. Maxwell." A pause. "Doctor. Alana Maxwell. Was our third." A breath in. "She died..." a hard swallow, "because I wasn't aware of something. A factor I- I could have known. But didn't realize I should even check" But that's- that's too close to- "and I made the wrong call. I don't talk about her? Because... I don't... "
He swallows again, just as hard.
"I don't have the right. Not until. Not until she's here to say so."
She takes it in. All the emotion lurking under the surface. The way he
struggles to force himself to talk about her.
She would have done no less for Signy or Roffe, once upon a time, if she'd
lost them. The bit about Jacobi confirms something she'd suspected,
although she wonders... "Which of them betrayed you?"
Because it had to be one of the two people closest to him, the way he
talked about it. Knowing what it felt like, to be betrayed by someone from
whom it was unthinkable.
"Jacobi," he says honestly, because he's made no secret of that. He's had that secret splashed all over the Barge more than once, and he knows there's records of some of it. He told her full disclosure. He meant it. Even if he knows Jacobi won't be happy with him.
This is the opposite of need to know. If Jacobi had complaints? He was welcome to stow them.
"Because he thought? I'd betrayed her. That I didn't care. That she didn't mean..." he swallows in earnest, "that she wasn't a part of me. That I threw her away. Part of that? Is on me. Another part is..."
He pauses.
"We... deal with things. Differently. My response to failure is... to sharpen my blades. Buckle down. Work harder. I put my feelings aside. I'm not-" he swallows again, because he's never had to put these things into words, not even with Iris, "I'm not allowed them. when I make a mistake. Because they're a luxury. One I wouldn't allow myself until I accomplished my mission. Made her death mean something. Or... found a solution to it."
He'd absolutely considered trying to bargain with the Listeners, the aliens who liked making duplicates of people. Duplicates with the person's memories, their exact form, their exact everything. Who were convinced they were who they believed they were. After all, Lovelace was walking around, fit as a fiddle, after flying into a star. If Jacobi could work with her, maybe he would have adjusted to having a Maxwell in the same way. It was the best solution he'd had until he'd died and the Admiral had come knocking.
"That was actually an option, even before the Admiral. At least, sort of." He considers quietly, and then he'll tell her what he's really only told Iris.
"For me, the betrayal was... in not seeing. How much I care about him. How much I care about... her. I did. so much. They- they're everything to me. But saying things like that out loud." He looks up at her then. "It's- it doesn't feel safe." He swallows one last time. "But I thought he knew. I hope she did.
"I think she did. She was... one of the most brilliant people I've ever known."
He has the kind of ruthlessness Ulla can respect. Single-minded focus on
his goals.
"It's never safe to say something like that." There's a risk inherent in
it, always. Baring your heart leaves you vulnerable. Once, Ulla would
have thought it was worth it. The only reason she never said more to Signy
was because she thought her friend already knew. That's at the heart of
her own story of betrayal, too. The person she loved most not grasping
just how deeply Ulla cared.
"Does he know now?" And maybe more importantly, "You've forgiven him for
it?"
Would Ulla have forgiven Signy, if not for that last moment together, when
Signy hesitated to give her the knife? Perhaps.
He nods to her. No, it's never safe. He's doing it right now because, to him? The risk is worth the reward. She can see him, see how he has to shove these truths out of him, how they tear at his throat a little on the way out.
It's no different from what he'd done for Jacobi on their first mission. Warren Kepler gives faith well before he even hopes for it, and never demands it. If he hasn't earned it, he doesn't deserve it.
"He knows now," because someone had left out his reality litmus notebook where Jacobi could check it and that meant that sooner or later, Jacobi had. Because he'd told Jacobi and proved it to Jacobi in an all out assault on his anxieties that he thinks has finally proven superior to the man's ability to doubt people's love.
"And I have. Because I failed our team. His anger? Came from his loyalty. Not disloyalty. I mourn that he believed that. But a part of me is fiercely proud of him. Glad that what we have means that much to him."
His head lifts a little.
"The one whose betrayal I'll never forgive? That's... someone else."
It stings, hearing that despite their shared understanding of betrayal, the
person Warren loved actually deserved it. Ulla stifles her reaction
in favor of moving on to the last thing he says. There's no use venting
her feelings anyway.
"Do you want to tell me about it? Or should I just listen to the file?"
Because she assumes that piece of information will be in there.
Ulla doesn't shy away from his anger. She's used to carrying her own.
Rage is an old friend by now. "In that case, is there any context I should
have before I listen?"
"Marcus Cutter is only the latest of his names. He's lived half a dozen lives. Under half a dozen names. He'd been augmented. By technology, in his case. To live longer. And be harder to kill. But even that? Was... imperfect.
"Not that it excuses anything he did. In some ways, it makes it worse."
Ulla nods. She isn't surprised that humans, with their short lives, might
try to find ways to extend them. "I wouldn't take it as an excuse," she
tells Warren.
"I'm sure she gave you ample reason for that," Ulla assumes. He doesn't
seem like the sort of person who holds grudges without strong motivation
behind them.
"She's the kind of person who decides that... when she has free time? She'll design a machine that can control people's minds and eventually entirely destroy who they are, leaving a shell of an automaton. Just... figured she should get that done, apparently."
Yeah, Warren wants to rip her to pieces. The fact that she lived? That she was pointedly spared? Makes his blood boil.
Her eyes widen. Ulla can do a great many things with her magic, but that
isn't one she's ever thought to attempt. It's a chilling thought, that it
could be done without magic.
It seems like a good time to hear his file. "Will you show me how to
listen to it?" she asks.
Yeah, he nods to the eye-widening. Because that's about how strongly he feels about it. But he'll gesture to the mp3 player and reaches over to pick it up.
"The headphones, here, they go over your ears. And the machine itself? You click this bit here to make it play, this part to make it stop. These two let you go backwards or forwards. Want to give it a shot?"
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He glances down at the file.
"...there is not a person in this file. Other than you? I don't want to punch in the face. Repeatedly." He looks back to her. "You deserve better. You deserved better."
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Ulla goes very still, her eyes widening. She doesn't trust his sincerity. And moreover, she doesn't know what to do with it.
She's silent for a long moment, because what is there to say to someone telling you that you deserve better than anyone in anyone in your life has ever given you?
"Roffe has the sort of face it would be a particular pleasure to punch," she notes. That's the easiest part to respond to. The rest... "Since when do people get what they deserve?"
Roffe and Signy will, if Ulla has her way. But she's here, with no way to get at them unless she graduates.
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And he’s here for it.
“They don’t,” he agrees with her, “unless… someone does something about it.”
He takes a piece of fruit himself.
“So… what do we want to do about it?” He dips his head to her. “I’m not skipping out on responsibility here. But I graduated from a partnership. So I happen to think that’s how it works best. I won’t expect, or demand, trust. When, or if, you do? It’ll be earned. It’ll happen when, or if, it’s going to happen. But I will do my damndest to be genuine with you. And up front. And if you ever have a question of me, you’ll get the best answer I have.”
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The doubtful look in Ulla's eyes says that she doesn't expect to trust him, or anyone, again. She doesn't want to. She can feel the tug of it every time she likes someone here. The way liking leads to friendship leads to trust. And so she stops at the first step, not wanting any true friends. Not wanting the temptation to lean on anyone. To need them.
"You know how my last partnership ended."
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He takes a piece of fruit and lets his shoulders drop.
"It's messy. But. It is what it is."
He pops it into his mouth, chews and swallows.
"Is there anything specifically. that you'd like to know. right off the bat?"
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"The more open people are, the more vulnerabilities they share." She recognizes it as a gesture of trust, or more likely an overture - an attempt to earn hers.
Ulla was always straightforward. Even now, she's not quite sure how to be otherwise. "I was never very good at hiding mine. Roffe scolded me for it, saying that that ambition ought to be guarded like a secret, not shouted like a curse." And she liked him for it then. For letting her see the cunning hidden under his charm.
Ulla wants to listen to Warren's file before she asks about him. She doesn't know what to ask. So she asks about herself, instead. "Not yet. Does your promise not to take my magic from me hold true?" He knows what she can do with it now.
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“‘Roffe’ had the luxury of being able to hide his ambition. Not because he was good at it? But because a lack of ambition in the rich and powerful, combined with mediocrity? Is almost expected. Whereas people like you. Brilliant and underappreciated? People will assume ambition regardless. They know perfectly well that you’re not stupid enough to accept how you’re treated now. What he did to you… it’s called ‘negging’. It’s used to make you feel smaller. Less. More vulnerable. Less capable than you are. It’s to convince you that you need them for something.”
He tilts his head.
“You’ll discover that I’ve done a lot of horrible things. By listening to that file. But that? Is the kind of thing I cannot abide.”
He spreads a hand towards her because he knows, ultimately, her main concern is the last question.
“Your magic? I will never take that from you. Even if you kill me. Even if you kill Jacobi. Even if a dozen people in this place tell me that I should. Even if you drown us all. It is not happening.”
He looks to her face.
“I’ve read that file. And I know how to read a file. I know how to read between the lines on people. It’s part of what I did for years in my job. And quite frankly? You’re one of the only people on this boat. That feels like my kind of people. The kind of person I would have demanded I get to recruit.”
He lets his shoulders sink a little.
“If you use magic in a way I don’t like? There will be a damn good reason. I know that. Already. And my first priority? Will be to find out what that reason is. Not make you ‘less’.”
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Ulla studies him as he talks, drinks in his vehemence as he lists examples. Trust isn't something she's willing to give, but he seems sincere enough that she can at least summon up cautious optimism. "Thank you."
After a small pause, she admits, "I work custodial shifts because cleaning magic is easy and because Arthur promised to speak on my behalf if a warden ever wanted to take my power from me. It's little enough leverage, but it was what I had, when I had no idea who my warden would be." She'll probably keep showing up to work, but she feels less like she has to.
"And I suppose the Admiral did the recruiting, but we're bound together now."
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"Do you think you can keep up with the pool, given the changes we made? I'm assuming they were so the place'd be more hospitable for you?"
But he keeps going, addressing the last.
"We're paired, that's true enough. But if you ever feel like you can't work with me? Or something I've done makes you uncomfortable... I would be willing to put in a request to unpair us. Now... I don't see that happening. And I don't want it to happen? And I can't think of something I'd want to do that I see you being upset by. But. I'll make that promise right now."
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"I'll keep the pool clean." She might even keep cleaning the rest of the ship, but she'll certainly do that part. Making the place more hospitable to her wasn't the entire goal of their changes, but it was a significant part. "The water burned my gills before we changed it. I'd only spent a few seconds in there."
She's surprised by the offer, but unless something goes horribly wrong, she'd rather stay with a known quantity than reenter the lottery of temporary assignments. It isn't a request she anticipates making. Ulla shakes her head.
"What will you get, if I graduate?"
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"Jacobi is my partner. Maxwell." A pause. "Doctor. Alana Maxwell. Was our third." A breath in. "She died..." a hard swallow, "because I wasn't aware of something. A factor I- I could have known. But didn't realize I should even check" But that's- that's too close to- "and I made the wrong call. I don't talk about her? Because... I don't... "
He swallows again, just as hard.
"I don't have the right. Not until. Not until she's here to say so."
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She takes it in. All the emotion lurking under the surface. The way he struggles to force himself to talk about her.
She would have done no less for Signy or Roffe, once upon a time, if she'd lost them. The bit about Jacobi confirms something she'd suspected, although she wonders... "Which of them betrayed you?"
Because it had to be one of the two people closest to him, the way he talked about it. Knowing what it felt like, to be betrayed by someone from whom it was unthinkable.
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This is the opposite of need to know. If Jacobi had complaints? He was welcome to stow them.
"Because he thought? I'd betrayed her. That I didn't care. That she didn't mean..." he swallows in earnest, "that she wasn't a part of me. That I threw her away. Part of that? Is on me. Another part is..."
He pauses.
"We... deal with things. Differently. My response to failure is... to sharpen my blades. Buckle down. Work harder. I put my feelings aside. I'm not-" he swallows again, because he's never had to put these things into words, not even with Iris, "I'm not allowed them. when I make a mistake. Because they're a luxury. One I wouldn't allow myself until I accomplished my mission. Made her death mean something. Or... found a solution to it."
He'd absolutely considered trying to bargain with the Listeners, the aliens who liked making duplicates of people. Duplicates with the person's memories, their exact form, their exact everything. Who were convinced they were who they believed they were. After all, Lovelace was walking around, fit as a fiddle, after flying into a star. If Jacobi could work with her, maybe he would have adjusted to having a Maxwell in the same way. It was the best solution he'd had until he'd died and the Admiral had come knocking.
"That was actually an option, even before the Admiral. At least, sort of." He considers quietly, and then he'll tell her what he's really only told Iris.
"For me, the betrayal was... in not seeing. How much I care about him. How much I care about... her. I did. so much. They- they're everything to me. But saying things like that out loud." He looks up at her then. "It's- it doesn't feel safe." He swallows one last time. "But I thought he knew. I hope she did.
"I think she did. She was... one of the most brilliant people I've ever known."
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He has the kind of ruthlessness Ulla can respect. Single-minded focus on his goals.
"It's never safe to say something like that." There's a risk inherent in it, always. Baring your heart leaves you vulnerable. Once, Ulla would have thought it was worth it. The only reason she never said more to Signy was because she thought her friend already knew. That's at the heart of her own story of betrayal, too. The person she loved most not grasping just how deeply Ulla cared.
"Does he know now?" And maybe more importantly, "You've forgiven him for it?"
Would Ulla have forgiven Signy, if not for that last moment together, when Signy hesitated to give her the knife? Perhaps.
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It's no different from what he'd done for Jacobi on their first mission. Warren Kepler gives faith well before he even hopes for it, and never demands it. If he hasn't earned it, he doesn't deserve it.
"He knows now," because someone had left out his reality litmus notebook where Jacobi could check it and that meant that sooner or later, Jacobi had. Because he'd told Jacobi and proved it to Jacobi in an all out assault on his anxieties that he thinks has finally proven superior to the man's ability to doubt people's love.
"And I have. Because I failed our team. His anger? Came from his loyalty. Not disloyalty. I mourn that he believed that. But a part of me is fiercely proud of him. Glad that what we have means that much to him."
His head lifts a little.
"The one whose betrayal I'll never forgive? That's... someone else."
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It stings, hearing that despite their shared understanding of betrayal, the person Warren loved actually deserved it. Ulla stifles her reaction in favor of moving on to the last thing he says. There's no use venting her feelings anyway.
"Do you want to tell me about it? Or should I just listen to the file?" Because she assumes that piece of information will be in there.
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His eyes now are a very different thing, sharp and hard, a side to him, a (contained) rage that has no soft side, no forgiveness.
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Ulla doesn't shy away from his anger. She's used to carrying her own. Rage is an old friend by now. "In that case, is there any context I should have before I listen?"
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"Marcus Cutter is only the latest of his names. He's lived half a dozen lives. Under half a dozen names. He'd been augmented. By technology, in his case. To live longer. And be harder to kill. But even that? Was... imperfect.
"Not that it excuses anything he did. In some ways, it makes it worse."
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Ulla nods. She isn't surprised that humans, with their short lives, might try to find ways to extend them. "I wouldn't take it as an excuse," she tells Warren.
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"I wouldn't think you would.
"But that's what he was after. For him? And his own partner, a woman named Pryce. Who I... don't. like. very much."
She took a year of his life away. She took a year with his grandfather from him. As a warning.
He thinks he could manage if Cutter showed up. He'd keep himself firmly out of it and let Jacobi do whatever Jacobi wanted to do.
But Pryce? Or hell, Young?
If it weren't for Ulla? He'd get demoted over them.
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"I'm sure she gave you ample reason for that," Ulla assumes. He doesn't seem like the sort of person who holds grudges without strong motivation behind them.
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Yeah, Warren wants to rip her to pieces. The fact that she lived? That she was pointedly spared? Makes his blood boil.
"But... you'll get that in the file."
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Her eyes widen. Ulla can do a great many things with her magic, but that isn't one she's ever thought to attempt. It's a chilling thought, that it could be done without magic.
It seems like a good time to hear his file. "Will you show me how to listen to it?" she asks.
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"The headphones, here, they go over your ears. And the machine itself? You click this bit here to make it play, this part to make it stop. These two let you go backwards or forwards. Want to give it a shot?"
He'll hold it out to her.
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