The Justiceers - Part Three: Chapter Five
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
3.5
The Nebberath II felt like a dream to Arthur.
Though he was having trouble wrapping his head around the reality of it all, so used to biting and scratching for everything little thing, with a gift like this having fallen into his lap — Miriam making it so by the force of her own will, with that ever-sustained courageousness he was finally beginning to see so clearly — was just more of a blessing than he was used to receiving.
Arthur was waiting for the catch.
He wouldn’t find one; this ship was Arthur’s to have and make into whatever he saw fit, and Miriam had done it all for him.
Spending his time of late in the laboratory they’d refashioned into ‘The Shop’ for Arthur to have all that space he’d need for his tinkerings on The Beast, he was feeling right at home.
Miriam was playing music always nowadays, soundtracking everything. Even when it got a little loud and distracting, Arthur loved it.
Seeing her spirit come out — unafraid to show her fullest self at last, discovering confidence that he’d love it all — had Arthur seeing more shades of her character than he’d ever imagined existed within that sad girl he’d first met. Miriam just being herself was such a sight to his heart.
He was starting to realize her quite the bad ass too.
The fact Miriam had seen his light within all along, exactly as he was now beginning to see hers in return, and had been so strong in holding onto what she’d known in her heart, despite the way he’d tried to push her away — gratitude was a word that had been coming to mind a lot for Arthur lately — what most amazing gifts this goddess had birthed into his life.
There was still a great lie in his mind; that he didn’t deserve it.
Arthur couldn’t see that he’d brought it all out of her, that meeting him had been her greatest healing, and she was just trying to pay it back; she always would be. So with her going this overboard in making him feel loved and seen — there were plans starting to brew in his mind.
Arthur hadn’t figured how he’d do it yet, but he was thinking he’d find a way to surprise his Miriam with something special, and make sure she knew exactly all she’d meant to him.
With what they’d learned about their lives in the past, and the way he’d had to face the very-near reality of her passing multiple times, he wouldn’t want to leave things unsaid.
This hadn’t ever been something Arthur was the best at though, speaking from the heart so often found quite difficult, but he knew Miriam had always meant it when she’d say he not need worry about finding the right words for her; she’d always felt the truth of his love within his touch, from her intuitive connection to his heart, it was that way long before he’d even been aware it was within himself.
It worked great that way for Miriam somehow.
Arthur long adored the comfort this grace afforded him, knowing he was understood without having to explain everything, he’d eventually come to find it had been something he’d long needed in a partner. Yet with this great work she’d done to create a beautiful future he could call his own, and all the love she’d poured into making him feel understood as a heart and soul, he only felt it right that he think of a way to pay it back somehow.
She deserved it.
While Miriam had been putting on her bravest face for Arthur, letting out ‘her own prince’ as she’d been calling it, beneath everything he could still feel how sad she was.
Miriam was struggling — all elaborately joyful distractions aside.
She’d always been such a healer, and Arthur knew this challenge of facing Omirion’s trauma was one she’d not turn away from, that she’d never look away from an uncovered truth. Arthur knew she’d find a way and do it too — his girl could do anything.
That didn’t feel enough for him in this situation, she needed someone to heal her this time, not having to overcome such mountains all her own. It was his hurt too, having found his own heart incredibly scarred by the realization of Miriam and his lost home of soul, there was a knowing which now lived in Arthur’s gut, he’d need to help make this one better.
He just didn’t know how.
“Will you give me a fucking break — I hate this cunt.”
Miriam’s voice had dropped a couple handfuls of registers when she’d said it.
Arthur then muted the open mic in their new ‘Comms Parlor’.
“Oh, shit,” she’d muttered, realizing her mistake.
Clear awareness bloomed upon the face of the one in which she’d spoken about; they knew. Everyone did, Miriam Halafax had never once been shy to let it be known how she felt of this one.
Icaro was The Conclave’s Internal Petitioner, or as she’d eloquently put it so consistently, their ‘worthless fucking idiot’.
She was not wrong that they were an objectively unhelpful presence.
Their mind worked like a robot, they’d no imagination or potential to exercise critical thinking skills, needing everything spelled out in most absurd detail. This drove Miriam absolutely nuts because of how deeply fond her spirit’s nature was towards the ideals of independently creative thinking, flexibility, and working as a team while not making life harder for everyone by failing to see past the tip of your own nose.
Arthur could remember Miriam having repeated the idiom — ‘addition by subtraction’ — regarding Icaro’s presence within The Justiceer Conclave at least a dozen separate times.
“Um - I think we should proceed,” Carleena Erris had spoken.
She was alright, that one.
Miriam took a deepest breath, glaring at Icaro on the widescreen wall-paneling before them, when Arthur put his hand on her leg.
“You good?” he’d asked her then.
She’d taken another extraordinarily long and slow breath, holding at both top and bottom, loosening her mind in the stillness born from those places within its flow.
“No,” Miriam said.
“But whatever.”
Pressing the line open, Miriam’s face and entire energy at once transformed by force of will; the liar inside was coming out to see her through this.
“We’re so glad to see you all,” she’d gushed.
“There’s certainly more than a fair deal to catch you up on.”
Icaro had been obviously preparing to speak and Arthur could see the near side of Miriam’s mouth plunge into a scowl, teeth gritting plainly.
“Well, Miriam, we have a lot of questions about the data were seeing here.”
Right after they’d said it the feed went white.
Moments stretched in that silence, Arthur’s gut speaking of something distant and unclear, he’d tried to feel into the truth of what might’ve happened. Phase-link communication technology was notoriously reliable in-system, this felt odd.
“Thank fucking god,” Miriam spat with detest.
She just didn’t have patience for The Conclave’s politics. Whatever this disturbance to their phase-link, it didn’t matter in the slightest to Miriam right now, she was just glad they’d not have to get into all that like she’d thought.
Miriam’s spirit wasn’t listening to what might be happening, still lost in a very specific dream of late, repeating it over in her mind and heart, keeping her up late into the nights — that bathing within Learo’s light upon her Arthur’s lap.
His name was Carlin Jerscion and his face was on every screen, voice blaring through all speakers, adopting each technology with the capabilities to spread his most terrifying threats of dominion over Grammaton.
There had been words in his speech which kept replaying in Miriam’s mind as they’d watched him drone away in such monotones.
“You don’t know me, but I know you.”
Insight was telling of importance in that statement, a key she’d need. Something about him seemed so terribly familiar, though she’d also felt sure that was a mistake, knowing without doubt she’d never seen or known of such a man.
“I want to show you all something.”
That’s what he’d finally said after his monologue about ‘firepower’, The Hammer’s immense strength, and those many details of his incoming armada; Miriam had thought it would never end.
Carlin’s ‘absurdly boorish face’ was replaced by an image of almost complete darkness. Miriam had to squint just to see the speck of reflected sunlight at its very center as Arthur and The Beast came up closer beside her.
Miriam got so near that screen, feeling into whatever it could be, while Arthur’s gut had begun to speak of very clear and horrid tales.
After just a second longer there, Miriam and Arthur had said it allowed simultaneously.
“Markeus.”
It was then the speck became a flash of flame — so far out.
The sight wasn’t what made Miriam jump, that had been her heart, it was her friends.
She’d turned to Arthur in shock, portraying a sense of disgust upon his face beyond that she’d ever seen from the man, and she had seen a lot of those.
Miriam felt it in her gut too; the anger.
Evil so bold, hated so blind, violence so unnecessary — this is why they fought.
Tears started to well then for Miriam, seeing a vision of what would become her evening, those cycles to come — she’d be praying for and sending light to everyone of these souls.
She hadn’t figured out why it made her feel so sad yet, or how she’d known exactly what it was she’d be doing, but Miriam Halafax was completely cognizant of the fact she’d be sending the most of that love to Icaro.
They’d both thought it then, rage speeding towards a crescendo it would not reach, fires flaming their heart’s connections to those lives now lost. Even Icaro; especially Icaro. Yet it was Miriam who’d said it, her channel forming the words as a gift to them both, the truest finding of this moment become real.
“I think I know how we make it better.”
