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The Operator has motion sickness from the Railjack.
They had been completing missions for Cephalon Cy for the past two hours in their Railjack, as a new front had been launched in space rather than on the ground and the Operator had been asked by the Lotus to help with it. And, sure, they would always help the Lotus with whatever she needed, and they would succeed at it too-
-but they step back from the rear turret two hours later and they're very dizzy and very nauseous.
"Lotus," they say, slowly walking towards the navigation console, "I think I'm going to spend a bit on the ground."
'Rest, Tenno. You did well," comes the response through communications. The Operator nods, settling into their permitted rest, and taps open the console.
They zoom out from the planet they'd been looking at, moving to set a course back to their Orbiter. They open the menu for Earth, scanning over all of the nodes-
One node's text erases itself as if being typed backwards, before retyping itself forwards with… new text.
HEY, KIDDO.
The Operator stills, watching. The text doesn't change.
Experimentally, they tap the node. The context menu hasn't changed either - right now, that area is clear according to the Lotus's information, and it says as much in the menu. The Operator closes it.
Every node has changed.
REMEMBER ME? is written where E Prime had been. Mantle is replaced with REMEMBER THE RELIQUARY?
The Operator thinks of the blue-clouded capsule in the back of the ship they're standing in. Through the window in front of them is open space littered with stars and other planets and not a single other person nearby to help them in case of emergency.
Gaia reads GO CHECK IT, KIDDO.
Cephalon Cy is silent. Presumably, he can't see what the Operator is seeing. Or, like every other visit before, the Indifference has silenced all of the outside voices that could interrupt their meetings.
Hesitantly, the Operator leaves the navigation console open in fear of losing the changed type in front of them, and walks back to the Reliquary.
It's unchanged. They examine all angles before concluding virtually nothing has happened to it, and, feeling a little like a mad person, they look up at the roof of the Railjack.
Knowing their luck, the Indifference will allow Cephalon Cy back in just in time to see the Operator talking to the air like they're insane.
"Nothing's wrong with it," they say.
Fortunately, Cy is not let back in. Unfortunately, that means the Indifference is still listening, and its voice slams into their head with all the force of a ship crashing to the ground.
EVERYTHING IS WRONG WITH IT. The Operator stumbles, one hand flying up to their head, gasping through the sudden rage that hits them next. It's not their own, but it washes over them, drags them under, forces the scent of blood in their nostrils and the memories of swords arcing through the air and people dying, screaming and the Operator's own rage coursing through them.
IT'S MINE.
The Operator coughs through phantom flames once again, doubled over in the pain of the Indifference's voice stabbing through their head, the rage searing their skin and boiling their blood. They are not in the Railjack but once again in Tau, killing, killing, because they deserve it-
It all stops moments after it begins. The voice, the rage. The Operator is sitting on the floor now, knees pulled up to their chest. Slowly, they look up from them, lowering both hands.
Their ears are ringing in the silence, devoid of screams or death or sheer rage. The Railjack walls are a dull, mechanical grey, and they are not on fire or covered in blood or-
The silence is broken by a soft tapping sound, from the Reliquary next to them. They turn their head to look at it, and…
They don't know how they could have been so stupid. All of the dots were there, a little far apart but still able to be connected. And the Indifference's rage all makes sense now.
They remember the Reliquary Drive on the Zariman. Another finger held there, Void energy extracted from it. They were too young to know what it was before, and didn't look into it later.
A fleet of Zariman ships, and the Operator knows the Indifference did not lose that many fingers.
"They duplicated it," they breathe. The realization, the understanding is washing over them with shock, with more anger.
They stand up. Cephalon Cy has not spoken up yet, and through the buzzing in the Operator's ears, the silence is too heavy. Even after only two meetings, they can recognize that this silence is crafted by the Indifference, a pocket of space where no one bothers them.
They walk back to the navigation console, intending on continuing this in their Orbiter. The console is still open to preserve the changed text, and as they walk closer-
IT'S MINE. IT'S MINE. IT'S MINE.
Every node, every setting, every button reads the same two words, in all capital letters, punctuated the exact same way. The Operator's breath catches, freezing for a moment, before they move back to the forges and open their menus.
The same thing. Every single text prompt and button on the console has been changed, even the tactile ones.
They stand in front of the four forges, all repeating back to them IT'S MINE, and try to calm their racing heart.
They look up at the ceiling. "It's yours," they confirm, shoving down the shake threatening their voice. "Albrecht…"
REFUSED ME. BUTCHERED ME. FOR HIS GREED.
The Operator takes a deep breath through the wave of anger in that one word, spoken normally now in their head. "I understand."
YOU… DO. The Indifference sounds as if it is correcting itself while thinking it over, the anger tempering with realization. OF ALL PEOPLE, YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND.
"I do. Albrecht hurt you deeply, and that's what I felt before."
Silence. The Operator tries not to think of Rell and all the similarities they're reading between the two. They try for continuing the conversation again, walking back to their navigation console. "Albrecht duplicated your severed fingers and then used them for Void-travel, right?"
KEPT THEM LIKE A SOUVENIR. INTRUDED ON MY BODY LIKE JUST ANOTHER PLANET TO COLONIZE AND RUIN AND RUN FROM-
"Okay," the Operator interrupts gently, before they are sent to the floor again with the anger in the words. "I get it."
The lights flicker as if the Indifference is annoyed at being interrupted, but it doesn't say anything against it. The Operator takes another slow breath.
"You are right to be angry," they start.
IT'S NOT REASONABLE, it mocks inside the Operator's head.
"I did not know the extent of it." The Operator flicks their eyes over the repeated words in front of them, all claiming IT'S MINE, bold and angry and vicious. Despite themself, sympathy pangs once through their chest. "It is reasonable. That was a violation."
STILL IS.
"Still is," they confirm.
Then they blink and the Indifference is in front of them. It stands on the opposite side of the navigation console, wearing the Operator's face, formed into a blank, wide-eyed expression that reminds the Operator instantly of a child. Its body is tense, rigid, Void-black eyes fixed intensely on them.
The Operator gets the sudden sensation of walking on a tightrope, the air heavy around them, the lights brightened back to normal but the memory of them flickering fresh in their mind.
They swipe the navigation console shut. "Tell me about what it feels like when I use your gifts," they say suddenly. "As opposed to Albrecht's… creations."
One slow, surprised blink. Surprise so potent that the Operator feels the echoes of it, distant ripples from the Indifference's link with them.
Its mouth does not move when it speaks inside their head, after a long, long pause. I CAN'T… FEEL THE SEVERED LIMBS. OR THEIR COPIES. NOT WHEN THEY ARE USED… MOSTLY.
It sounds as if it never planned on saying these words, not scripted or mocking or teasing. Its tone is a little flat, but it's being honest. They keep their eyes on it the entire time, paying rapt attention.
MOSTLY. IT DOES… FEEL LIKE A DISTANT… PART OF ME IS BEING TUGGED. It flicks its gaze away, to the floor. BUT A PART I CAN'T… FEEL.
It looks as if it's struggling for description. Its face can't quite form the expression, but it stands so still and is so quiet during the pauses, as if thinking hard, that the Operator finds themself a little endeared.
LIKE HAVING SOMETHING NUMBED FOR AN OPERATION. YOUR FINGERS POKE AT IT, AND THEY CAN FEEL THEMSELVES TOUCHING THE NUMB AREA. BUT THE NUMB AREA CAN'T FEEL THE FINGERS TOUCHING IT. YOU CAN'T MOVE THE NUMB LIMB BY ITSELF.
Its eyes dart back up to the Operator, two night skies. They nod slowly, understanding the metaphor the more they think about it. "That makes sense."
AT LEAST AT THE BEGINNING. Its gaze flicks away again, and its tone hardens. NOW IMAGINE YOUR NERVES BEING STRETCHED TO THEIR LIMITS AND THEN UNRAVELED LIKE CHEAP STRING. SPLIT INTO THREADS AND USED TO WEAVE AND TIE AND PULL AND PULL AND PULL AND PULL AND PULL-
"Okay," they interrupt again, rewarded by a sharp gaze turned back on them. They ignore the skip of their heart at that and keep their voice even.
IT HURTS.
"I'm sorry," the Operator says. "I'm sorry that it hurts."
The Indifference huffs, looks away, and its voice drops to something quieter. Now it uses its form's mouth, actually shaping the words it speaks, though they still echo within the Operator's head rather than coming from their Void-clone.
WHEN YOU USE IT… IT'S LIKE STRETCHING A MUSCLE. A BIT DIFFERENT, BECAUSE I AM NOT DOING IT MYSELF. LIKE SOMEONE ELSE LITERALLY PULLING YOUR LEG OR ARM OUT AND STRETCHING IT FOR YOU.
"It feels good?" they ask hesitantly, keeping their eyes on the Indifference.
IT FEELS… BETTER. IT MITIGATES SOME OF THE PAIN.
Void, they're actually starting to feel bad for the Indifference. The Operator realizes this, thinks about it for only a few seconds, and decides they're completely fine with this, actually.
The Drifter had mentioned the Indifference's weakness being love. The Operator considers that the Indifference itself has never been shown love.
Maybe they're biased. They never got the form of the Indifference that was malicious, after all. It was always relatively playful to them, if still retaining some of the threat and danger. But the Operator had never felt truly threatened by it.
They don't really care about their bias either. They have a better plan all of a sudden.
They're going to befriend the Indifference.
They take a breath, slowly accepting this new goal and all it might entail, and open their mouth to say something-
THERE, the Indifference says. Its tone has abruptly flipped to something sarcastic, sharply mocking. ALL THE BLACKMAIL YOU COULD EVER WANT. USE IT TO DESTROY ME, OR WHATEVER.
The Operator blinks, stunned. "I don't-"
It vanishes between one blink and the next. "…want to destroy you," they finish quietly, and sigh into the empty space where the Indifference had been.
Great start to that plan, the Operator thinks sarcastically at themself. They swipe open their navigation console, spot every node and all text returned to normal, and flick open the course chart to the Orbiter with irritated movements.