Lancer 2.36 (Patreon)

I gotta admit, I got goosebumps when Abby dropped that line about cutting heaven and earth.  I released a slow breath.

“The skill you will learn tonight is called ‘Growing the Mountain from the Roots,’” Abby said.  In Velean it was only three syllables, ak ha var.  “It is an extension of the blade-lords’ discoveries about the self.  It is applicable both to honing your true self and to enlivening the cover identities that we adopt in our line of work.  Going forward, I want you to integrate it into your presence meditations.”

“Understood.”

“We will begin with the simple case.  The first step is to select an aspect of your identity to strengthen.  It is traditional for apprentices to spend many days in meditation at this step so that they can settle on the identity they want to build.  You will begin that process later—tonight, you will pick thoughtlessly.  Be prepared to resist the pressure of that commitment when you begin the real work.”

I nodded.  “I can do that.”

“I know you can.”  Mild green light highlighted the contours of Abby’s eye sockets as they relaxed into a smile.  “Now, before you make your choice.  I have told you that this skill allows you to build an identity.  By implication, it allows you to become anyone you wish.”

“Okay,” I said.

Abby watched me silently.  I sighed.  That meant this was another dumb Velean thing and I had no idea what was being asked.

“Are… you asking what I’ll use it for?”

The combination of dim lighting and Abby’s glowing eyes made it hard to make out if there were any shifts in expression.  Although, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have had much of a chance in optimal conditions.  Abby didn’t give signals she didn’t want to.

I was supposed to infer a question here, but there was nothing to prompt me on the question I was supposed to have.  Abby refusing to respond to me conveyed some information at least, which is to say I was supposed to figure it out myself.  So that meant she thought I had all the information I needed.  Val was much more of a sink-or-swim kind of teacher; Abby never let me flounder for too long.

Definitely still floundering, though.  I had no idea what she was thinking here.  Was that the test?  Was I supposed to intuitively ‘grow from the roots’ myself into someone who knew the answer?  Because I had no idea how to do that.

“Fucking how do I make myself someone who knows?”

Abby snorted.  “I wondered what was happening over there.  That’s my fault, I’m using a traditional technique and thought you’d figure it out.”

“Fuck,” I said.

“Some information can’t be inferred from context,” said Abby.  “Don’t judge yourself.  In this case, the custom is that the master presents a statement of fact and the apprentice accepts or rejects it after some consideration.  The master does not give guidance, as the foundational task of a student is to learn to guide themselves.  ‘You are the first and last of your foes.’”

“Uh, hold fast,” I said.  “Is that why everyone in my cohort perpetually argued with the instructors?”

“I’m sure it was one of the reasons,” Abby laughed.  “Let’s try that again.”

“It was annoying,” I muttered.  “You said some information can’t be inferred.  So you can’t mountain yourself into knowing things you don’t know.”

“Grow yourself,” Abby corrected me.  “Good answer.  But it turns out that’s not entirely true.  If you build a new self, that self will see things differently and come to conclusions you would not have otherwise reached.  That said, you’re generally correct: growing a new identity doesn’t convey skills or knowledge.  Within that boundary, ak ha var allows you to become whomever you want.”

“Big,” I said.

Abby didn’t respond.

“Oh—fuck you, that thing again?”

Abby didn’t respond.

I huffed.  “I am confident there’s nothing I can var to stop the annoy.”

“Good!  If accidental.”  Abby did the Velean head tilt thing they used instead of winking.  “Why?”

“Because it’s annoying.”  She definitely wanted more than that.  “And it’s not my culture.”

“It would be closer to the mark to say that the annoyance comes from experiences you’ve had,” Abby said.  “The body remembers.  The soul remembers.  Both carry your past, and the past returns as your present behavior.  Ak ha var means taking command of that process, but only warm blood taints a frozen pool.  Without mastery and repetition, your underlying self will remain as it froze, so to speak.  Do you understand?”

I nodded eagerly.

Abby’s face crinkled affectionately.  “Begin with the identity you want.  Don’t be discouraged if you don’t have a worthy one—again, it’s traditional to spend days refining a concept before beginning this discipline.  You will do the same in time, but for now, just pick something salient.”

I nodded slowly.  “Give me some time.”

Couple days of meditation?  I could do it faster than that.  Abby would be super impressed if I got it now.  Her slow incline of the head communicated that my request was granted.

Who did I want to be?

My mind automatically supplied the memory of my time running the ops console and its vision of our souls.  Markus’s welcoming warmth.  Val’s scalpel precision.  Abby’s perfect serenity.  And my own soul, a limping, color-saturated mess.

I hated that.  I really did.  Like, I knew who I was: I was a kickass operative of the Eifni Organization.  Literally.  I have kicked so many asses.  I was top of my class in close combat.  Uh, almost; Veigo only won that last bout on a technicality and Gana basically doesn’t count because they were so far ahead of everyone else.  When they deployed us to that elimination action for graduation, I was the only person on my team still alive by the time we cleared out the temple of that plague god.  I knew who I was: I was a badass.

“I know who I am,” I said.  “Why does the console disagree?”

Abby blinked.  “Well, someone’s into the woods.  The console is representing something else.  Come back, Lilith.  This is just practice, no need to overthink it.”

“You said people think about this for days,” I said.

“Not for practice, they don’t,” Abby said.  A slight smile played around her eyes.

“Fine,” I said.  “I want to be…”  Not that, not the console’s image of my soul, but I didn’t know how to articulate that and it didn’t seem like what Abby wanted besides.  So try something—cool, someone who could handle anything… I want to be you was the next thought, but I couldn’t make myself say the words.  I got stuck on that for a few adrenaline-heavy moments.

Abby interrupted me.  “Not ‘want to.’  Something that you are.”

“Oh, that’s big easier,” I said, frantically trying to come up with a Velean phrase for what I wanted.  Abby watched me patiently.  Ah.  I had it.

“I,” I said, “am a friend to wolves.”

She gave me an approving smile.  “That’ll work.”

I sighed with satisfied relief.

“‘Friend to wolves’ is the mountain,” said Abby.  “Its roots are the things you’ve done.  Bring one to mind.”

I remembered the first match I’d won against Gana.

“Now focus.  Burn it into your senses until it drowns out the world.”

“So it’s like presence meditation,” I said.  “I’m just focusing on a memory instead of my soul.”

“Be silent.  But yes, you’re correct.  Now focus.”

The rebuke stung a little but I didn’t regret being clever.  I focused on the memory, trying to make myself visualize it.  I wanted to be like those people who would go like “I had every movement of the fight engraved in my brain” but, uh, I didn’t.  I did remember the end of the match, though.  Gana’d made a mistake, positioning their knee block wrong and overbalancing as they took the kick.  They knew immediately they were in trouble.  We made eye contact and I moved.

It was perfect.  I have no other way to describe it.  Like I’d woken up in the Matrix and knew exactly where to hit.  I went for the legs first, forced them to fix that or fall over.  The momentum from my stomp kick landing got channeled into my hips as I threw a flawless punch—and they went for the guard, of course they did, Gana always knew how to react to my aggression—but it wasn’t fast enough.  Solid hit to the armpit, right in the nerve cluster.

Like dominoes, like music, every step laid out in front of me as I slid my foot forward and ripped it back at their knee.  Hammer hand to the throat—they caught on their forearm, but their leg was already folding under them—grinning like a madwoman, looking down at the anger in their eyes—and the sound when they hit the mat, thump-thump, flat on their back—seven more wins and I’d be able to even the score.

This was how it started, this would be how I scaled the combat ranks and topped the class despite my useless Earth upbringing.  I won.

Embarrassment that I hadn’t actually topped the class threatened to distract me from the glory of that moment.  From that flow state I’d never managed to recapture.  I tried to push it aside to focus.  To remember the soreness from the hits I’d blocked, the hits I’d landed.  The smell of the close combat classroom, plastic mats and rough fabric and sweating students and Gana’s sweet acidic cologne mingling with the taste of my own blood.  The cheering—no one else had managed to take Gana down.  Lilith barak, Lilith barak!  Three of us would manage it before graduation, but I was first.  I won first.

“Be present with the memory.”  Abby’s voice was gentle, floating, infiltrating my attention without wrenching it away from the scene.  “It is part of you—more than part, as long as you remain.  Let it be all of you.  This is who you are.”

“I mean, I can’t do this all the—”

“Be silent.  Focus.  In this moment, you embodied the identity you’re building.  Don’t try to force it; that’s why you’re having contrary thoughts.  Be the self in that memory.  Let its shadow rest on your soul and displace those thoughts.  If you fight them, they’ll sink deeper into you.  Focus on the memory instead.”

I tried, but now that the doubts were present it was hard to just ignore them.  I’d never managed that flow state again.  I beat Gana twice more before graduation, but they beat me six more times.  It felt like more of a fluke, if I was honest with myself.  I shifted the weight on my legs.

“You will experience a temptation to dismiss the experience,” Abby said, as if guessing my thoughts.  “The mind is efficient.  It abstracts collections of experiences into monolithic images and discards what does not fit them.  Persuade it to desist: your memory is true, and your actions were yours.”

“What if—”

“Be sil—”

“What if,” I said, talking over her, “the circumstances aren’t repeatable?  Legitimate question.”

She looked at me pointedly.  After a beat, she relented.  “Why does it matter if they’re not repeatable?”

“I, uh.”  I huffed, trying to figure out how to word the idea.  “If I can’t do it when I want to, it’s not a real identity.”

“When you have mastered this first step of ak ha var, you will practice visualizing false memories to serve as building blocks for assumed identities.  The statistical likeliness of the memory is irrelevant, only its connotations for the identity you’re reinforcing.  Remember that when you retrieve the memory you’ve stopped focusing on.”

Fuck.  She was right.  It was gone.

“That will be all for tonight,” said Abby.  “I’m opening my comm.”

I did the same, grateful to be back in English.  “So you want me to do this during my meditations now?”

“The mental action is the same,” Abby said.  “But don’t start yet.  We’ll wait until you can spend an uninterrupted period honing your identity.  Most likely that will be after your diversion with the Vitares family.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, glaring at her, “I should probably get back to my ‘diversion.’”

Abby closed her eyes, her posture relaxing just a bit.  “I know it’s important to you.  I also know that you haven’t forgotten our objective on this planet.”

“That’s not at all what I was saying,” I said quickly.

“No, you were saying that you wanted respect.”  She opened her eyes again, meeting my eyes with no trace of emotion.  “I’m proud of you for taking the initiative on this.  But I am Velean, as are you.  If you have to demand respect, you don’t deserve it.  Show me glory in victory or resourcefulness in defeat—I’ll be the first to shout Lilith triumphs.  But show me.”

“Fine,” I said, seething.  “But I’ve got a meeting with Sael Voranetes in the morning.  If you keep pulling me away the night before critical parts of my op, there’s gonna be a lot more resourcefulness in defeat to go around.”

Abby nodded.  “And what are you going to do about that?”

“Go home and sleep, I guess,” I said, standing up.  “Probably ask you next time if it’s important.”

“Oh, very much so,” said Abby.  “Mission critical.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I said, standing up.  “Gimme a hug.”

Abby gave really good hugs.  Something else she’d accidentally mastered in her half-millenium of existence, I guess.  I squeezed back.

“But seriously,” I said, not letting go of her.  “This is my big girl grown-up mission.  Don’t fuck me up.”

“I wouldn’t,” she said.  We released each other.  “Sleep deprivation won’t stop you.  You could do this in your sleep.”

“Lilith barak,” I replied, grinning like a madwoman.

Abby laughed.  “You’re not supposed to say it about yourself!”

“I guess I’ll wait for you to say it.”  I patted her on the shoulder.  “Okay, I’m off for real.”

“Go be a friend to wolves,” Abby said.  “We’ll cover your back.”

I set off for the Vitares estate, the wind warm and the moon high in the sky.  Time to get some rest.  Tomorrow, I was having breakfast with sharks.