Chapter Text
Murati couldn’t come to terms with her surroundings, but thoughts continued to bounce through her mind as she paced through the shallow waters in the familiar painted metal halls. Her knowledge of psionics was limited- she didn’t understand how something like this would be possible. She badly wished for Euphrates’s company and the comfort of her knowledge of psionics but continued to walk. The chill of the soaking wet Volkisch uniform she’d awoken in sent a shiver through her. Had her undercover mission with Aatto tainted her? Had putting that uniform on and making the Gau her own, even for a deception, permanently embedded some shard of fascism in her soul? Such thoughts were unmaterial and fanciful, but Murati’s bleak awakening made it difficult to completely push such understandings away. Loosening her tie, she took a breath and continued down the hall.
At first, her exploration was directionless- checking in surrounding rooms only led to more questions. Unusual configurations made her doubt her memories- meeting rooms now lacked central tables but had chairs haphazardly stacked upon each other, braced against the far wall as if to stop something breaking through. Officers’ quarters felt similarly off-putting: lacking any signs of individuality or anyone living- every closet was filled with more Volkisch uniforms, all in her size, her ‘rank’, and all with the same three armbands. Her nerves were fraying but Murati did her best to recenter herself. Sitting on a chair pulled from an unsteady stack, letting the water around her come to a standstill, she tried to calm down.
She was alone- psionics didn’t reveal any signs of other auras. The wall screens, when she attempted to use them, displayed paragraph after paragraph in High Imbrian. From what little she could interpret; there didn’t seem to be technical logs or information on this False Brigand’s bearing- all were written accounts and quotations reciting various fascist principles and ideology. Repeated references to the fuhrerprinzip and other concepts she’d begun studying in detail with Aatto had initially made her stomach drop.
But sitting and thinking through these things helped steady her nerves, and gave her direction as well- the place she considered to be the crux of the Brigand would be the bridge. And this was a destination she could reach for and find some sort of answer within. Either a way to connect manually to those outside or find the source of this corruption. And so, she stood and began to head towards the elevator. Despite the black seawater coating the floor, most electronics still seemed functional (although unreadable), and the internals of the Brigand weren’t rearranged.
Making her way to the elevator, the doors were open- revealing the empty elevator shaft. It was an unfamiliar sight, but on some level, it was comforting to not have to rely on this unknown spaces elevator system and being able to use the service ladder along the side. Black water continually poured down to levels below, and from above as well, dripping down the metal walls of the shaft into the lower floors of the False Brigand. And yet despite how shallow the water was, it never seemed to get lower, and it never seemed to flow towards where it drained or be disturbed except by Murati’s footsteps.
Gripping the edge of the opened doors, Murati swung herself over the void to grasp at the ladder. It was wet, and the rungs were cold, but it seemed solid enough. Pulling the rest of her body onto it, she looked up, seeing a crack of flickering light from the uppermost doors, making her way steadily up the rungs. The chill of the water she’d been wading through was making her shiver, teeth chattering as she steeled herself, gripping the service ladder more intently. She wasn’t sure what she’d find ahead- Officers? Some source of this water? Nothing at all? None of the answers she could think of brought her much peace.
Arriving at the entrance to the bridge, Murati tried fruitlessly to tug the False Brigand’s doors further apart. Damn it. Frustration at this obstacle began to mount, but a solution occurred to her moments later. Grimacing, she activated her psionics and, making sure to protect her face with an arm while looping the other through some rungs, focused on the point between the doors.
The effect was immediate- horrifically loud screeching as she pulled the trigger, the metal shredded apart as though they were sheets of paper- shrapnel sparking against the walls of the elevator shaft, slicing into Murati’s shirt and pants in a few places, followed by a steady rush of water, joining the other flows into the shaft. The sound of the unrestrained violence echoed, Murati frozen to the service ladder at the sound filling the False Brigand’s halls, even as blood dripped down her nose and lips, joining the rest of the pool of liquid at the bottom of the shaft. Slowly, however, the echoes faded, and she was left alone, breathing heavily on the ladder.
Her inability to lessen the force of her psionics was a constant source of frustration, but after wiping her face, Murati felt rather thankful for it in this moment. At least something like this wasn’t an obstacle in her search for answers.
“Don’t worry, Karuniya- I’m coming home.” Murmuring to reassure herself, to ground herself even a bit more in this false realm.
She managed to swing from the ladder, pressing herself through the mangled remains of the doors- the steady flow of seawater pouring through the bottom of the gates nearly made her jackboots slip, but Murati managed to get a solid foothold, stepping into the bridge.
And everything went wrong.
Her head began to ache, and another urge to vomit filled her, coughing up more mouthfuls of black seawater as she took unsteady steps towards the captain’s chair. This feeling- it was the same as when she’d awoken, the same as throughout that vision. What provoked it? Why was this happening to her!?
She lifted her eyes, catching sight of something. The central screen was black, but not off- Murati could vaguely see something incomprehensible outlined, black on black. Something that made her urge to vomit return, hand lifting to brace herself on the armrest as her senses left her, a voice filling her head as she stumbled, sinking beneath the water-
Drown in a black tide, revolutionary.
Violet Lehner twisted to look into the eyes of her adjutant. “Murati? Are you alright?” A comforting hand laid over her own, Murati’s vision steadying.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Reichskommissar. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Mmmm. I didn’t either, but I know what you mean- you were tossing and turning.” Violet’s expression became a bit more teasing, although her concern was still readable. “Are you in a good enough shape to offer guidance to me?”
“Of course, I’m at your service.”
Sitting in her throne within the bridge, Violet pulled up something on the main screen while the black uniforms below the pair ignored this moment. Murati’s role as Violet’s adjutant was something that went unquestioned- as did their closeness and visible affections for each other.
Murati was seated in a much more standard adjutants’ seat at the side of Violet’s chair, close enough to be able to quietly confer with the Reichskommissar. The layout of this bridge was a bit unfamiliar, but the Shimii of the Zabaniyah seemed to be adapting to it without too much issue. She adjusted her cap, pressing her lips together as she reached a hand up to feel the metal protrusions… a mimicry of Shimii ears.
She had felt this distasteful, and attempted to shy away from offers of a matching cap by Violet- but when it was gifted to her in an intimate moment, she couldn’t find the heart to reject it. Maybe it would grow on her- she thought the one worn atop Violet’s head was rather cute. At least she hadn’t gifted her that tail tassel as well.
She turned her focus to the screen, clearing her throat again as the familiar sight of the map of the Union was put front and center. Murati’s gaze narrowed, looking over the ship layouts as presented before her. This assault was something that she and other members of Violet’s cabinet had poured over for days- it was a larger scale than what she was used to, but she felt the angle they’d decided upon was the best chance for victory. And so it was that the Brigand had been hastily repurposed for Violet’s use.
A union ship outfitted for stealth and Diver combat- something that would be an extremely useful weapon to eventually bring to the walls of that communist 'state'. Only recently wrested from the hands of some insurgents who’d been plotting some offense in Aachen, Murati had led the assault. The communists aboard had been uniquely hardy and capable, but her overall willingness to retreat and let them overextend or commit to their defenses had proved enough to overpower them. With Christina alongside her, she was responsible for the executions of several of the crew, passing the surviving officers off to Magdalena for interrogation and less tasteful treatment.
Furthermore, rather than scrapping it for parts and details of the Union’s construction processes, after initial testing revealed some of the ships capabilities, Murati found herself advising Violet on a plan. To take advantage of this ship for the Reich and use it as the crux of a plan in truly settling things with the communists. Once and for all. Violet had seen the appeal and taken a liking to the unusual floor plan and build of the ship, getting National Socialist Labor Unions to work on retooling some Union parts, operating systems, and decorations to be more in line with her preferences.
The simple captain’s chair was replaced with a throne, the missile and gas guns refitted for Imbrian calibers of ammunition. Various other changes had been checked off by Violet and given an eye-raise by Murati. Some more extravagant options included a total remodeling of some standard ‘officer’s quarters’ into the Reichskommissar’s personal chambers (now Murati’s as well), along with repurposing the science station and kitchen to support Violet’s diet. The contract for the retrofit was lucrative and the company had done well on short notice- it was only about a month later they set off.
The position of strength from Violet’s easy victories in Kreuzung and Aachen meant that the Zabaniyah were primed for a strike. The presence of revolutionaries this deep in were worrying- as were the advancements in technology and Diver technology discovered aboard. That long-forgotten bastion of slaves and bandits had painted a target upon itself with this act. And Murati’s initial offer of heading the operation were denied by Violet- she wished to accompany her, at least part of the way. It would be an immense victory for the Reich: the communist beliefs allowed to fester and steal the resources of the Volk under the Imbrian Empire would be swiftly crushed beneath the heeled jackboot of Violet Lehner’s National Socialism.
A complete rout of the ideals of ‘socialism’. Murati couldn’t help but scoff.
“Reading some of the works of socialists that were kept aboard this ship, I see the draw it has for the oppressed and denied: the unity and change in the social order promised would be rather appealing. The people of the Union will probably fight to the last to defend their beliefs. Those aboard this ship certainly did.”
Violet listened, an entertained smile on her face. “Oh? Thinking of changing your black uniform for a green one?~ Or trying to make your case for staying at the backline of the confrontation?”
Murati met her gaze, hand gently twisting up to intertwine her fingers with Violet’s, leaning in. “Please be serious, Reichskommissar. My family was North Bosporan, but they clearly read the tides of the Imbrian Empire. They recognized that something akin to a Volkisch Movement would need to form, to unify disparate peoples under a banner, subsumed into the Reich.”
Talking about her parents always provoked odd feelings in Murati- they’d been early proponents of fascism, and their shadow often hung over her. How little she truly knew about their beliefs, their interpretations of the world- but it was a guiding light for her regardless. Continuing, never looking away from Violet’s gaze, she spoke,
“This path was carved through my own efforts, and I’ve dedicated myself to it: and to you. The world must be examined, understood, and competing ideologies must be repressed. Had I been some nameless Union soldier, what could I aspire for? What heights could I reach? To merely remain one of a faceless mass? While my own struggles and loyalty have led me to your side. I would never desire anything else.”
Violet’s cheeks gained a bit of a flush, finally breaking Murati’s eye contact.
“My, Oberführer- a certain romantic might interpret such an expression of commitment as a proposal.”
Murati gave a gentle squeeze to Violet’s hand, leaning back into her seat with a cocky smile on her face.
“Perhaps, Reichskommissar. Maybe our wedding night could be marked by the fall of that Union.”
Violet laughed, drawing a few glances from the officers at the stations below, but a steely glare from Murati quickly got them to return to their work.
Another cough came on, and she lifted her free hand, a splitting headache accompanying it, coughing out a splatter of blood into her palm, eyes burning as she slumped down in her seat, Violet’s hand moving to gently rub at her back as her vision dissolved into blackness once more.
She surfaced, coughing and choking for breath while pulling herself from where she’d been floating face-down. Murati braced herself against the captain’s throne, her head aching with a splitting pain- it felt as if she’d been shot. Whatever had happened- the memories of that tenderness with Violet burnt freshly into her soul- had changed something. The water had risen to her hips, and she’d nearly drowned in it while in the throes of the vision she’d had. It wasn’t real- it couldn’t be. She felt ill, her head ached, and swallowing mouthfuls of this accursed saltwater wasn’t helping, the burning in her eyes and mouth making her keep coughing.
Slowly struggling to catch her breath, the urge to vomit was still strong in her chest. The world it had showed her was unbearable- a world where Murati had been responsible for the deaths of those she loved. For what? Love? Fascism? None of it felt right in her head. But the emotions of that Other Murati were still fresh and real. That dedication wasn’t a front, or a shallow understanding of the material reality. It was a choice to side with the oppressors and imperialists. It was the resolve to put a gun to the head of every person aboard that ship undercover in Aachen and do it with a smile.
It felt incompatible with her existence. It made her sickness feel even worse as she heaved out a sob. The thought of a world where she was responsible- no, integral- to the deaths of Ulyana, Erika, the entire crew… It was unbearable. It was horrific to conceptualize. The chill of the sea was soaking her to the bone, and an overwhelming desire to fall to her knees, to submit to these visions-
to give in-
to submit to Destiny-
and be swallowed by a sea of black-
Murati’s eyes opened with a start, standing up even as her head spun. She reaffirmed herself. None of that had happened. None of it was real. But she felt the black sea suffocatingly around her. Submitting to it would bring those worlds about. She felt a desire for motion, a desire to fight and struggle for the things she held dear. For the ideals she believed in. For the people she loved.
A hesitant glance towards the screen revealed it now pouring black saltwater into the bridge- the captain’s interface and lower tiers of the False Brigand’s bridge completely submerged. Coming here had only caused her more pain, and seemingly advanced whatever rot was latching onto her. Murati began mumbling to herself through chattering teeth, trying to think.
“The bridge’s a dead end…b-but there was… something…something there.”
A figure- unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but it was something. A thing aboard this ship other than her. Struggling to decide a direction- she felt so detached from everything, another choked sob forced out between gritted teeth.
“Karu… Karu… please… I need…”
The chill was setting in, and she rubbed her sleeve against her eyes, clearing tears and noticing the sleeve slick with blood- a bit of shrapnel must have cut deeper than she’d realized. Unsteadily, Murati undid her tie, retying it as a makeshift bandage over her arm to stem the blood loss.
But thoughts of Karuniya kept her conscious and centered. She had to keep moving. To surrender to apathy and cold would mean to let the fire in her chest go out- she had to keep walking. Euphrates walked on, for uncountable centuries. What apprentice would Murati be if she let some cold stop her in her tracks? Gritting her teeth, she turned away from the bridge. She didn't have an exact destination in mind, but she would check every damn section of this False Brigand if she needed to.
Swaying her way through the deeper water out of the bridge, she was greeted with an unpleasant sight: the elevator shaft, now completely filled in with that blackened water. Just the sight of it felt overpowering, but it was the only way out of the command module.
Murati took a few breaths, kicking off her jackboots- now weighed down by the water that had poured into them, they’d just slow down her swimming. She was sure there’d be pockets of air below- the shapes of the Brigand's rooms would allow for plenty of spaces to breathe. And if not- well. She would be dead anyway.
Psyching herself up, the image of Karuniya in her head, she took a breath and dove in, squinting as she willingly let herself be swallowed by the black sea- salt burning her eyes. And she saw something, in the distance- a glimmer of purple, far on the other side of the ship, shining impossibly clear through dozens of layers of metal. Her mental map returned to the forefront of her mind- it was where the Agarthic core array rested, at the back of the ship. Murati felt a tug in her chest, memories of her previous sighting of Agarthicite coming to the forefront of her mind. She continued to swim down, deeper into the sea.
Kicking, favoring her uninjured arm in her sweeping swimming motions she attempted to make her way down to the proper level to swim towards the core, that voice spoke- suffusing her body with cold, the still water she was struggling through beginning to move, flowing as it spoke.
Yes... come pay your respects at the altar. Kneel and swear yourself to me to Violet to Imani to Christina to the Reich to National Socialism to Destiny.
It reverberated through her senses, the flow increasing in intensity, slamming Murati’s injured shoulder into the shaft, causing her to involuntarily hiss, breathing in some of the blackened sea and beginning to choke once more, that voice growing ever louder in her head, pounding, the image of Karuniya she held in her mind growing blurry and distant. It was pounding, growing excitable, speaking faster and faster and making her thoughts feel quiet and small against its voice and the swirl of water catching her in its grip.
MuratiLehnerOberführerofTheVolkischMovementfortheNationalAwakening.YournameyourfateyourtruthyourDestiny.
It was all so cold, being knocked about by the currents- dragged as if by a riptide down and slowly, brutally being pulled towards that figure who claimed ownership of her fate. Murati was caught in the tides of Destiny and couldn’t even muster the strength to keep her eyes open- surrendering to this unceasingly cruel sea.
