i was born in space
There is a guard on Mofi at all times, but: here is the truth: at the best of times, the Skyrats are barely competent; worn to the bone and anxious and trusting her, they are useless. He is kept in the room adjacent to Raven’s, and that night, when his guard falls asleep and Raven is awake but listening to music directly in her eardrums (which can’t possibly be good for her) and focused on whatever she does on her screens, she slips in unannounced, perfectly silent.
Mofi is awake, if barely: his head drops to his chest every so often, and then perks back up whenever he thinks he hears a noise. He is still blindfolded, his arms cuffed behind him, leaning up against the far wall of the cave. Bryan had made some assorted protests about circulation, and Belomi had agreed reluctantly to let him loose every four hours or so; Raven has an alarm on her screen. Ryfe estimates she has another forty minutes until she will encounter an interruption.
She crouches to him in the dark. “Hey, Mofi,” she says, low and gentle. “You failed your mission. Do you understand what will happen to you?”
He is unresponsive. His feet are bare. His toes are going to get cold. He is going to die.
They have talked about this, of course. What would happen: he is an asset of the Coalition, useful only so long as he is successful. If he betrays the Commander’s trust again, if he wavers in his loyalty, if he gives his secrets to the enemy — He stared at her, a little wild-eyed. Don’t worry, she had said. If it comes to that, I will make your death painless — that is something you deserve. And then he had laughed, bitter and repulsive, and she had wrapped his hand into her own hand: a comfort, a betrayal. She can apologize, but this is the contract they have both paid for with their blood. She will not apologize. You were born for this, Mofi kom Skaikru, she said instead.
I was born in space, he replied.
That hadn’t been what she meant, so she snapped: give me six laps, and he groaned and got up.
She had not bargained for his failure, but she has always been ready for it.
She reaches forward, fingers searching until they find the knot of the blindfold. Her fingers brush through his hair. She pulls the blindfold free. “Mofi,” she says again, and he blinks several times. She waits until his eyes adjust to the darkness, and then until he meets hers. “You failed your mission,” she repeats. “I’m going to kill you. Do you understand?”
“Then you’re on the cold hill again,” he says, softly. “Taking the telescope apart.” It’s not an affirmative answer. She waits. Her fingers are tight around her dagger: she will stab him through his eye socket, back into his brain. She’s not sure if it’s painless, but nobody has ever complained to her before. “I’m going to fucking kill A.L.I.E,” he says, suddenly fierce, and —
She —
She sets down her dagger. She sits down beside him, wraps an arm around his shoulders. He is still warm.
When Jasper emerges to release him, blinking owlishly, she snarls “You are absolutely useless,” and eases Mofi’s sleeping head off her shoulder.
—
Jasper is upset when he returns: he calls, anxiously, for Raven, who returns with Bellamy. He is drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, vaguely apprehensive about them but mostly uncaring. But not really in a numb way. In a good way.
They had let him make his way down the stairs by himself, without his hands or eyes to guide him: the unknowing descent into darkness, and below, and below, and below. That keeps replaying in his mind, again and again, but he doesn’t really have any feelings about it. It’s kind of annoying, is all.
Bellamy is saying something. Bellamy is saying “Should we blindfold him again?” and Jasper is making some kind of concerned noise.
“We’re in a cave,” snaps Murphy. “The secret’s fucking out.”
He wishes he knew more than that. He wishes he had any useful information, but he has never been this far out of the woods before, and the Rover took too many twists to untangle from Jasper’s constant jostling and the noise in his ears and around him.
Bellamy makes a scowling sound, kind of, and then pulls him to his feet. Jasper touches the wall, and the room lights up around him. Forward and to the left, there’s a kind of half door that leads to an officey space, which is full of Raven typing away and — the backpack. The backpack. The power source — He should —
“Murphy,” Bellamy is saying. “Eyes on me. Murphy,” a warning. He snaps his gaze back to Bellamy, trying to at least look like he’s listening. Bellamy reaches around him and uncuffs his hands: he lets them drop, stares at Bellamy.
He takes a breath. He shakes out his arms, lets his nerve endings wake up. Keeps staring at Bellamy.
“Why did A.L.I.E need to go to Polis?” asks Bellamy, his eyes narrowed.
<Find out where this is going.>
He shrugs. “Reasons,” he says.
Bellamy sighs. He takes Murphy’s wrists again, hesitating on the one that feels weird, but he cuffs them back together all the same, this time in front of him. Miller has replaced Jasper in the room. Miller is holding a shocklash. Miller is stepping forward.
He doesn’t like where this is going.