Beyond The Impossible

Eir General Hospital, Midgard City

Ganos Lal slowly regains consciousness, feeling extremely weak and drowsy.

<I think she’s waking up.> Doctor Kalama says.

<Where am I?> Ganos wonders, looking around; it’s easy to recognize a hospital room on any planet. The human doctor is standing on one side of her bed, and Torn is on the other.

<You’re on Earth. You were the target of an attempted assassination; you were in a coma for almost two weeks.>

<I missed Nullmas?> is Lal’s first concern.

<You are the first recorded mortal to have survived a physical contact with Ichor; I managed to remove its last traces from your soul.> Torn explains.

<Wait, you know this stuff? You told me this is the first time you see anything like this.> Doctor Kalama objects.

<It is. I’ve consulted an expert in Hell.>

<I should apologize to Lady Null for failing to properly honor the day of her birth.> Ganos Lal says, trying to get off the bed only to be immediately be stopped by the doctor.

<You’re not going anywhere until I dismiss you.>

<But I…>

<No buts! You’re my patient now and…> Doctor Kalama chastises her, stopping when a couple of Ganos Lal duplicates appear in the room. Only for them to lose their balance and fall, disappearing into nothingness as soon as they touch the ground.

<…and you’re not in the condition to leave anyway.> the doctor concludes.

<I feel so weak. What’s happening to my powers?>

<It’s the Ichor. It doesn’t like interacting with organic matter.> Torn answers.

<Try to get some rest, okay? I’ll get back to start discussing your physical therapy in a few minutes.> the doctor tells the Myridian, gently patting her shoulder.

She then escorts Torn out of the room, closing the door behind her.

<I would like to talk to this expert of yours.> she says.

<Why?>

<Because I have a patient who’s been poisoned by this “Ichor” substance and I’d like to make some sense of Lal’s blood tests, because frankly I can’t make head or tail of those.>

<I’m no doctor, but even I know that humans don’t have tails.> Torn replies, raising his eyebrow.

<It means they’re not helpful, and I’ve run out of tests to try.>

<Lal is alive. What else is there to test?>

<There may be side effects to the exposure to this substance.>

<There is only one side effect to Ichor: death.>

<But Lal is alive.>

<Indeed. It is curious how a Myridian was able to use Ichor and still keep her powers, since it destroys their duplicates.> Torn admits, stroking his chin pensively.

<It would be easier if I could just examine the would-be assassin, but I heard she’s being deported to Myridia and Noriko wouldn’t allow me to get anywhere near her.>

<A wise choice. She is very dangerous.>

<Come on Torn, just let me talk to this doctor of yours.>

<I don’t have a doctor. You are the only one I know, Doctor Kalama.>

<Didn’t you say you talked to an expert on Ichor?>

<Indeed, but she is no doctor. There are none in Hell.>

<There’s going to be one soon, because I want to meet this expert.>

<You want to go to Hell?> Torn asks, finding the idea strange to believe.

<Why not? Noriko has gone there several times, hasn’t she? Based on what she told me, it should be perfectly safe.>

<Hm. About that. I believe Null may have… embellished her journeys in her talks with you.>

<Oh come on, it’s just an alien planet with a strange name. It’s not like it’s literally hell, right?> the doctor asks with a smile. Torn doesn’t change his stern expression.

<Right?> she repeats, her smile already faded.

 

Imperial Office, Imperial Palace

From a technical standpoint this is the throne room of the Mortal Co-Empress, but Athena finds it hard to consider it to be imperial at all.

It’s just a fancy office; if it wasn’t for the Seal of the Olympian Empire… a stylized galaxy surrounded by laurels… it could easily be mistaken for the office of any CEO.

<You have the entirety of human knowledge at your disposal, Noriko. Surely that includes a modicum of interior design, yet this was the best you could come up with?> Athena asks, leaning against the desk and picking up the framed picture of Bob Null holding a five year old Noriko on his shoulders. Until Noriko snatches it from her hands.

<Don’t you think you should have more important things to worry about than my taste on decorating my office!?>

<On the contrary. Your attitude towards governing the Galaxy is of the utmost importance, and just a glance at your desk gives me reasons to worry.>

<What are you talking about?>

<You have six framed pictures: one with your father, one of your father with his companion and their daughter, one of you with your best non-romantic non-professional friendship from when you were both attending school, one of you with the Vanguard, and one of your deceased lover.>

<And? What’s that got to do with anything!?>

<Pictures of your family broadcast your attachment to familial relationships. A picture of the Vanguard showcases that you have yet to transcend your need for personally overseeing minor objectives instead of focusing on larger goals. Most troubling is the picture of Dmitri Voron.>

<Careful.> Noriko warns her, her silver eyes shining with anger.

<You have perfect memory: if you wanted to reminisce about your relationship, you wouldn’t need his picture. No, the reason you have all these images staring at you every day is twofold: to remind you of why you accepted your title, and to guilt yourself of your greatest regret.>

<Drop it, Athena. You’re overstepping your role.> Noriko warns her, eyes still glowing.

<You clearly blame yourself for Dmitri’s death. Just as you are blaming yourself for how Sarelyn Yon and others like her fell under Ereshkigal’s control. You are an Empress now, Noriko: the individual lives of your subjects should be beneath…>

<I said drop it, Athena.>

Noriko’s voice makes even the Goddess of War shiver. She stops leaning against the desk and paces away from it, hands behind her back.

<There is at least another assassin on Earth. He will undoubtedly make another attempt on Ganos Lal, or on any of the candidates to the position of Prime Minister.> she changes the subject.

<I know. Are you suggesting I send them away from Earth?>

<Quite the contrary. Having them here increases the chances of another attempt on their life, which is the best opportunity to capture the assassin.>

<I agree. I’ve already asked the Vanguard to stay with them 24/7, and I think you should join them.>

<Me? I am no bodyguard.>

<No, but you’ve demonstrated you can handle Ichor powers, and I don’t doubt you’re an expert on doing undercover work.>

<An unflattering way to describe some of my talents, but not an inaccurate one: if needed, I know how to conceal myself from mortal sight. But what about you, Noriko?>

<I’ll take this to the source. I’m gonna meet Ereshkigal.>

<In person? With all due respect, she is one of the Nine Gods… she won’t answer to a personal call, even from you.>

<Maybe, but she can’t reject a call from another member of the Nine Gods. And remember, Hebe took her father’s place as far as they are concerned.>

<Nothing I could say to dissuade you from this course of action would succeed, I suppose?>

<Nope.>

<I shall leave then. But if I may offer one last advice… I suggest adding a picture of Kylon among your mementos? Otherwise people might whisper behind your back about your relationship.>

<What do you know about relationships? Just go, Athena.>

<As you wish, my liege.>

 

Hell, 163,000 light-years from Earth

As soon as Catherine Kalama steps out of the pentagram, she immediately regrets her choice.

She coughs vehemently multiple times, leaning against Torn for support.

<I thought you said the atmosphere was breathable.> she comments with a raspy voice.

<It is.>

<I can practically taste the sulfur in the air!> the doctor complains, trying her best to adjust herself to the situation. Only then she looks up, and as much as she hates the air, she can’t resist staring at the environment with her mouth wide open.

They are currently inside a canyon that leads into an underground city; it provides enough of a view to let Doctor Kalama watch the clouds of fire that cover the sky.

<Oh my God. This really is Hell.> she comments.

<Did you have doubts?> Torn wonders.

<No it’s not that, I… I didn’t think it would look like this. Or that it would be so hot! It’s amazing that you can stand this heat wearing a trench coat.> she adds, taking off her white coat that’s already been covered by the volcanic ash that permeates the environment. She’s been here for less than a minute and she’s already sweating up a storm.

<It’s a duster, not a trench coat.> he corrects her.

<Well, before I pass out, where is this expert of yours?>

<This way.> he leads her, walking into one of the passageways towards the city proper.

It’s like walking inside a very large cave, but one that’s been carved by Blood shovels. While it’s not exactly a busy place, a couple of Demons walk past them and completely ignore the human.

<You don’t get many human visitors, I guess.> she breaks the ice, uncomfortable with the silence.

<We don’t.>

<You won’t get in trouble for bringing me here, right?>

<No.>

<I get you’re not the talkative type, Torn, but I appreciate you helping me on this. I know you don’t like doctors, so I…>

<You know why we don’t get many human visitors, Doctor?>

<Because it’s a miracle anyone can survive on this place for an entire day?>

<You all talk too much. This is our destination.> Torn adds, standing in front of a door that leads to what the doctor assumes is a house carved directly inside the cave’s stone.

<Wow, already? That wasn’t a long trip.>

<I had to create a portal from your galaxy to mine

to get here.> he corrects her, knocking on the door. An old woman opens it; the doctor doesn’t know much about Demon biology, but she can immediately tell that even by their standards she’s extremely old.

<Maim.> the Demon greets her.

<Torn.>

<This is Doctor Kalama. Mistress to Null’s father. She’d like to talk to you.>

<We’ll definitely have a talk about human terminology.> the human mumbles to herself.

<Talk about what?> the old woman asks.

<She wants to know more about Ichor.>

<Does she want to die?>

<No ma’am, I most definitely don’t.> the doctor speaks for herself.

<Then she’s in the wrong place. Anything that gets involved with Ichor dies.> Maim replies, immediately closing the door.

<Okay… that went well.> Doctor Kalama sighs.

<Indeed. She likes you.>

<She just closed the door in your face!>

<It didn’t touch my face.> Torn corrects her.

<I mean she doesn’t even want to talk to me, what makes you think she likes me!?>

The old woman opens the door again, looking at both her visitors, and finally telling the doctor:

<You’re still here? Good. Get inside or you’ll get sick… it’s cold today.>

<I need to apologize to Noriko, she does have a reason to complain about this place.> the doctor tells herself.