Chapter Text
The molasses slowness of rewinding time caught the burning rubedo gemstone midway down Drifter's throat.
Then it reversed course. It landed neatly back on its plate, because it had not been fundamentally transmuted by chewing, swallowing, and digestion.
The rest of his last meal, however…
He heaved. All that liquid and masticated food had to go somewhere. Back out of his gurgling stomach, burning a streak of acid and bile up his throat, and then out in a stream of seemingly neverending vomit.
Because Granum and Vala were also caught in the time loop that protected them from the Tenno, they couldn't dodge.
Finally, his stomach emptied. He wheezed, leaning on the table for support. He was soaked with sweat, and not just from the book.
Speaking of the book…
He grabbed it. It wasn't laughing now. He shoved it into his void pocket, grabbed a cipher, and sprinted for the blast door console.
“Where do you think you're going?” Vala demanded. Or she would have, had she not gagged halfway through. She waved at Protea frantically.
Drifter put out his hand to stop her.
She and Granum were drenched in puke. He'd drank enough that it was mostly liquid (the only thing that saved his throat) except for the gritty Ito-da. They were soaking, sopping wet with it.
Drifter said, “Sure, you can put me back in that chair by rewinding time. You can even make me swallow all that back down. But as soon as you let me go, and you'll have to in order for me to read that book…” He mimed hurling all over them again. “I can make you experience that as many times as you want.”
They knew exactly what they'd fed him. They knew the grit sliding down their wet faces was termite droppings. The smell of warm fruity co*cktails, jellyfish, and grub doused in Vobi butter was nausea-inducing.
He prayed they wouldn't call his bluff. Protea’s rewind powers might not work exactly the way he thought. Would they risk it? Had he overlooked another way to force him to read the book?
“Get out,” Granum growled. “You aren’t worth the trouble you’ve caused.”
He dared. “I want my weapons.”
Vala slapped them into his hands. “Your pistol is still dinky. Now get out.”
He got out.
Corpus crewmen cleared the way for him. Whether it was orders or the stench, he didn't care. He'd never been so glad to see the squad of four Tenno frantically planning how best to rescue him this time. “Get me out of here, please. I need a shower.”
Alas, his railjack did not have a shower. Cephalon Cy politely did not comment on the state of the pilot's chair while they punched their way back to Deimos.
His transfer back over to the Orbiter might have gone suspiciously quick, though.
Cephalon Ordis had no such compunctions. “Operator, I expected you to come back covered in the blood of your enemies. Not this…”
He got in the shower with all his clothes on. Ah, paradise had nothing on this.
He drank hot water straight from the shower head. Delicious. Geyser water couldn't compare.
He could have stayed there forever if the Tenno hadn't commed Ordis. “They want to know if you recovered the Grimoire.”
Right. The damned book.
“Yeah, I got it. And after I deliver it, I'm going back into the next best thing to retirement.”
They reconvened at the labs. First, he thanked the Tenno. “I couldn't have escaped without you coming to rescue me. My plan only worked because Protea rewound time to stop you. Besides, without Lavos’ transmutation, I wouldn't have known I had to chew my food properly.”
Then, he borrowed Loid's tongs to retrieve the Grimoire. Even with that barrier between them, he still heard its spiteful, scathing whisper. It would not forget the man who'd defied it, nor forgive him for coating it in foulness.
Relieved, Drusus said, “That's safely back where that belongs. We're double checking outgoing shipments to Granum so there won't be another mistake.”
“What does Granum want with it, anyways?” Oh, he had his suspicions, but he hadn't asked Granum while he had the chance. Besides, he wouldn't believe him.
Gravely, Loid explained, “It's said in Granum's Tenets that a Whisper spoke to him in the language of Desire and set him on the path to make his fortune. What do you think this Whispering Grimoire wanted to tell him?”
Before they hid it away for good, he touched it one more time.
It mocked him. “You have starved and think that makes you strong. No. You crave idleness. Thus you are weak.”
He corrected it, “I crave peace and contentment and a world where I don't have to turn people into chunky salsa to do the right thing.”
Tagfer said, “You're stronger than me. That thing's Wrong. Capital W Wrong. When I see it, I want to spit or split.”
Well, he had that in common with the goat. “It's a needy, greedy, hungry thing. It wanted to tell the richest man in the System that he was starving, so he'd sate his appetite like squeezing blood from a stone.”
Loid wiped his forehead. “A robber baron robbing everyone, not just the Entrati…”
“It doesn't bear thinking about,” Drusus said, his hologram shuddering.
The fish, Fibonacci, said pompously, “We're very grateful for your assistance, biped.”
“Sure. You're welcome. Speaking of ‘safely back where it belongs’, any luck finding Albrecht back in 1999?”
Loid sighed. “No. Not yet. Soon. Can I count on your assistance? You've proven as capable as the Tenno said.”
No.
After this ‘adventure’, oh, hell no.
“Can't the Tenno do it?” He asked, wishing he sounded less whiny.
Loid looked at Lavos, Xaku, Citrine, and Qorvex. “Of course.”
There was very little that four warframes couldn't handle. Whether or not they could handle it without copious amounts of murder, mayhem, and war crimes, however…
He caved. “If it's necessary, give me a call. But only if it's really necessary.”
“Thank you,” Loid said.
Finally, Drifter flew back to his jungle camp just in time for the daily downpour. He stood under the cathedral-like canopy formed by ancient trees as cool rain turned into a settling mist. It was perfect weather for fishing. He cast his lures out into the lake and let the drumming raindrops drown out the remaining whispers.
By the time he finished cleaning his catch, the sun had set the forest steaming. While Cephalon Ordis watched the grill, he washed off with a short swim that turned into a longer soak in the lake. He floated, without a care, as the stress of time loops and captivity leeched away.
This time, he settled in for a proper dinner. No interruptions. Just fresh fish, hot from the grill.
His comm unit snarled.
A distress signal.
“So help me, if this is the Tenno calling already…”
If it was, he wouldn’t hang up. He'd hear them out. Then he'd get back in the Orbiter and go help solve their problems because letting someone else suffer while he could lend a helping hand wasn't in his worldview.
A cheery voice came on the line. “Greetings! This is Corpus Agent Lucra Tiv. We've been trying to reach you about your dropship's extended warranty. This is your final-”
He hung up.
She called again.
Ordis took the call this time and bellowed, “Get off the emergency frequency!”
Content that Ordis had it under control, Drifter turned the comm off and dug into his hot, fresh fish. Delicious. Flaky. Filling. Compared to all the delicacies he could ask for, this satisfied him completely.
