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They were not supposed to go this way.
They - that is, Her Virtuous Emancipator, Aradia Peixes and her royal bodyguard Karkat Ampora - were not supposed to be descending into the caves of Alternia's poorest regions far below the surface. They were supposed to be using public transport or her luxurious royal vehicle, staying in big cities or under the sea… not swerving a fucking podbike between lowblood slums and their inhabitants, dammit!
But Karkat's friend Aradia, subtlety be damned, insisted on taking a podbike with him at the helm instead of walking. She said she would not be able to help the workers and slaves if she was left drying in the summer heat - well, how about him ?! But he would not debate her; they were on an official outing for the Empire. Here, his friendship with her was lower priority than his duty.
Karkat's back stiffened in his driver's seat, elbows emitting a stabbing pain that spread over onto his tired arms. His gills, dry as a cracker, whined for water, while his lungs couldn't seem to get enough air no matter how hard he heaved.
The air smelled of garbage, sweat, and possibly blood - the pungent combination could make a troll keel over. But he couldn't even lean on anything. His seat was awfully small. He had to keep his eyes on the road, on Aradia, and everywhere else.
Not many wanted Her Virtuous Emancipator to survive. Not many wanted Karkat to survive (not even himself). But he had to. Because if he died, who would protect this maid of the oppressed? He was a knight for her, just as the First and Grandest Orphaner was an admiral and reformer for Her Passionate Condescension.
They were opposites.
They were the same, descendant walking a similar path as ancestor. As good Violetbloods should be.
A message suddenly beeped into the HUD of Karkat's steering wheel. "How long until we arrive at the Bronze quarters, Kar?"
The nickname, despite everything, made… pity… bloom in his heart. Stupid. He was supposed to be "Lieutenant Ampora" (pathetic, Karkat thought, that he had yet to choose a proper title for himself at this point), but convincing her to maintain proper decorum has always been futile…
Anyway. Karkat glanced at his GPS and answered. "Half an hour, Your Virtuous Emancipator."
The reply came quickly. "You are allowed to just call me Aradia, you know. As you always have been."
He ignored Aradia's message, breathing deeply from his nose and mouth. Not much help. He wished modified seadweller helmets existed, a helmet with water inside that would be nice- no, no. He had a route and a heiress to focus on.
Beep, another message came. "You've been driving for an hour. Maybe two?"
"Indeed," he replied through gritted teeth. The dryness in his gills ached, itched, begging to be scratched - but Karkat knew better than to do it.
He focused harder on the dark road ahead, on the buildings around them - how cramped they were, how badly designed, how the alleys crooked one way or another, cracked asphalt unfixed, made more obvious by the shitty street lights. The place held no sign of Makara Tech’s metal-and-neon domination, but he knew, even without Equius, the company was always watching. (Karkat checked again if the bug disrupter worked. It did.) Broken or cracked glass windows were boarded with wood, plastic, or even patchwork curtains - good enough not to have the sun melt you off, but not much else.
The overpowering bleakness pushes his consciousness out of his body, floating just a bit above it, easing the pain deep in his bones.
With a jab of a button in his HUD, he called for the water cup holder. The robotic arm holding it carried his bottle up to his face level, and he drank.
Just one sip.
He was running out. Surely whatever water he had left will not fill him on his return trip, and he would not beg for the slaves' supply. They were scarce as they were.
He would simply have to wait for rain, if it even leaked down here. (The weather forecast this morning had unfortunately told him it would be a scorching night.)
Beep!
Karkat slammed his hand on the notification.
"Kar," the message read, "Switch places with me."
Creak! The brake was pulled. The water-filled pod before him shook at the inertia - stumbled, sloshed- left, right- left-right- then settled on its center again. He knew he was in the middle of a street, but he didn't care. Her hands moved to type, fury speeding the aching joints into lightning.
"What do you mean by 'switch places', Virtuous?" Karkat demanded. "Do you wish for me to do the speech for the slaves? For me to deliver the help? It might be unwise, as you would be left unprotected."
Send.
"What? No, Kar." At this, Aradia knocked on the glass on the backside of the pod. He looked at her. She was glaring at him, furrowed eyebrows and half-open mouth clear despite the water and the glass in her way.
Brows knitting in a mirror image of his friend, Karkat continued reading the text.
"I meant 'you get in the pod and I drive'."
"That is unthinkable," he typed back, "That is treason!"
"That's not treason, that's reason ," Aradia argued. "I can't have my bodyguard gulp for air like a fish out of water."
"The atmosphere is much drier than I thought," Karkat agreed, without acknowledging her request. It shouldn't be acknowledged. It was treason. Fucking treason!
He was Violet ( really ) and she was royal, he was her liege and she was his lady, and her comfort came above his. He couldn't be helpless. He shouldn't let his ailments set him back. He did not have the lung capacity of a wiggler and his body was not in pain. Mind over matter. Mind over matter!
If numbness couldn't help, perhaps anger can. Yes. Rage . It burned in his center, distracting him from the rest of his body. Yeah. Those shitstains from the Signless Revolution left them for dead; it was up to them to be strong on their own. Up to him . To be strong for Ara-
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Karkat saw the notifications…
Water level down to 75%. 74%. 73%. 69%. 64%. 50%…
The pod before him was drained, drained of water, for only one reason: Aradia was going to leave it and make him get in. Karkat's bloodpusher hammered, ba-dump, ba-dump, pressure on his ribs clearing his mind of coherent th- what was he thinking? What was he to do? Water. Aradia . He scrambled to the HUD to find the button to abort her process, fuck, fuck , where where where -?!
Beep! Water level: 0%. Pressure adjusting.
No. No. No no no no no.
Drying session commenced.
No .
A hiss. Before his very eyes, Aradia was out of the pod, completely dry. Her ceremonial dress draped down to the dusty ground below her feet.
"Kar, come on," she pleaded. "I care about you. I know you must be suffering on that seat."
The pod was open. He could step in, he thought. Step in, sit on a soft, reclining seat with ample space for outstretched legs, submerge himself completely in seawater. His back, his legs, his joints, his gills, begged him to move, move, Ampora, move your lazy ass out of this forsaken seat!
Karkat gulped, frozen in place. It was improper. He was failing to overcome his weaknesses.
Disgrace, his mentor's voice rang in his ears, Failure! How can the descendant of the Beguiler Dualscar not pass the selection for the Alternian Navy?! You would be c-
Squeeeeeeeze . He snapped out of his thoughts - Aradia was squeezing his armored shoulders so hard, he had to look at her.
The past matters little now, he reminded himself. Aradia is your present and your future.
"Lieutenant Ampora," she said in her most authoritative tone, "Get in the pod. Now."
Yet! Aradia was squandering her present, her future, for him . Why couldn't she understand?!
"No," Karkat choked out, suppressing the urge to scrunch the fabric of his pants. He couldn't breathe. Aradia shouldn't care. "My duty is to take you places and ensure your safety, Your Virtuous Emancipator, and I can't do that from inside your royal pod."
"That's an order," his friend, his employer , plodded on. "An official Imperial decree from the heiress to the throne. Are you going to defy my order?"
"No, no, just, the pod," Karkat wracked his mind for excuses - reasons - legitimate reasons - "Is programmed to only work for Fuchsiabloods…"
"We both know you're just making that up, Lieutenant," Aradia deadpanned, her eyes dulling and narrowing. "Get inside. You're going to start flushing if you stay out here."
His pusher stopped.
The suns may have set hours ago, but the heat… like inside a greenhouse, this sector catches it, and keeps it, and spreads it around.
He couldn't afford that. Aradia may be his future, but he had to live for that to happen.
Listlessly, he unhooked the cane - which was for ceremonial purposes only! He didn't need it! He only needed the concealed sword inside! - from his belt and put it on the ground. Thud . Dust flew around its tip, disappearing into the dark caves as they rose.
He put one leg outside the driver's seat… One step. Now, time for… the other leg. He put the weight of his body on his hands, leaning on the cane for support, and slowly stood up, joints creaking in protest at the sudden movement.
"Wonderful!" Aradia said cheerfully, clapping along to his agonizingly slow steps. "You deserve it!"
"I most certainly do not," Karkat said in his proudest Violet caste tone, climbing up to the open pod. He willed himself not to look at how plush, how tempting the seat waiting for him was. "You deserve better than a bodyguard you must fuss over, Your Highness."
Aradia sighed, leaning on the side of the pod's open door. He looked at her - and saw the grief etched in her slumped shoulders, the sweep-long betrayal in her dark eyes.
"We need to fuss over each other, Karkat."
Breathe in. Breathe out. His cursed fucking wiggler lungs failed him. His jaw locked in the heavy disquiet.
Aradia simply stared at him, her gaze full of… something . Something unsaid.
Exhaling from between his tightly-clenched teeth, Karkat plopped himself on the seat and let Aradia close the door, not returning her smile nor her gaze - which had turned determined in service of improving the lives of the lower castes.
When Aradia restarted the engine, however, Karkat realized what he'd seen in her eyes:
We have no one else.
END