moonshadows: (Warehouse 13)
[personal profile] moonshadows

Three days later, after many frustrating attempts at communicating complex concepts with limited words, Artie finally hit on the idea that attempting to speak English through the shabti was always going to be difficult because the artifact was created with a built-in knowledge of demotic, and all words had to be translated from concept to demotic to English.

“We can teach the shabti English,” he said hesitantly, “but you already know it, so having the shabti read children’s books seems like a waste of time when we could be finding a better way for you to communicate entirely.”

“Claudia want use Hugo One eyes,” the phonograph said.

“If we can figure out how to get you hooked into the failsafe system, that would work.” Artie yawned. “Okay. I think that’s a big enough breakthrough for now.”

“Yes. Time Artie sleep.”

“Yeah, what time is it?”

It was a test rather than a question; he could find out easily. It had taken most of a day to figure out which artifacts and objects could be listened to in order to determine which imaginary segmentation of time it was at any given moment.

“Midnight-thirty.”

Artie checked his watch. “Close enough.” He was about to go upstairs when his cell phone chirped. Cautious curiosity flared into incandescent excitement as he conferred with the device, and all tiredness evaporated. “Roaring Dan’s puzzle box,” he exclaimed as he tucked it into his pocket and dashed for the asking-bag. “I’ve got to go get Pete and Myka right now. Be back soon to pack.” Then he was gone, hurrying down the umbilicus and out of sensing range.

It wasn’t long before he came back, still buzzing with excitement, trailing Pete and Myka. He bustled around the office, packing and explaining, then shooed them out the door and turned briefly back.

“Don’t wait up,” he teased.

“Be safe.”

The quiet words elicited a pulse of love. “I will be. I’ll have Claudia come talk to you. Be good.”

Sometime in the vague section of the day called ‘afternoon’, Claudia came into sensing range – but the happy anticipation her arrival sparked was dampened by the addition of two new artifacts, one of which was ruthlessly determined and probably a people-artifact. Claudia was angry and afraid, probably of the determined artifact, and the shabti was moved to the office to be there for support. The door opened, and Claudia’s fear warped into hopeful relief.

“There’s an intruder in the Warehouse,” she blurted. “You must have sensed it. Can you show me where…”

The words trailed off as one carved ebony finger pointed at the people-artifact now radiating alarmed confusion as well as ruthless determination.

Claudia’s eyes squeezed shut for as long as it took her to say, “Steve, if that’s really you I’m sorry,” and then she was chasing the intruder as it ran back down the umbilicus, afraid to use her tesla with the bombs all around. Minutes later, she stalked back in and threw herself, angrily, into a leather chair. “He got away. Accomplice with a getaway car, couldn’t get the plate, but it was out of state so there’s no point searching rentals. If that weren’t bad enough, he whammied me and I thought he was Steve, so I don’t even know what he looks like.”

That was a problem easily solved. Several artifacts were eager to lend expertise, and a handful of minutes later the shabti handed her a sketch.

“Nick,” she breathed, shock giving way to towering anger. “That’s Nick. He used me, that little weasel! But how? And, more importantly, why?”

“Artifact,” said the shabti, beckoning her out of the chair. Ebony fingers pulled it from her pocket.

Quickly, she opened a neutralizer bag and the shabti dropped the artifact into it. “Steve,” she whispered in horror, and ran.

No further explanation was needed; if the Nick artifact had used a simple artifact on her, it – he? – would have also used one on Steve to keep him out of the way. The phonograph growled. Artie, Pete, and Myka were away, likely lured out as part of the Nick artifact’s plan. Well, Artie had expressed support for the exertion of independence and acting without commands. It wasn’t hard to find the Farnsworth Leena had used, and only marginally more difficult to make it talk to Artie’s.

“You,” he said in surprise as the eye opened. “Wha- is something wrong?”

“Bad artifact.” Words, why were there no words? So many complex ideas – luring the others out, weakening defenses – but no words with which to convey them. “Trick. Like James.”

Artie’s expression hardened. “Got it.”

The eye closed.

Less than an hour later, Steve and Claudia returned, frustrated and unhappy.

“We tossed his room. Nothing but a disposable, untraceable cell.”

“I know,” Claudia said, sitting sulkily at Artie’s desk. “I checked. The only thing I found were texts to another disposable cell. His accomplice in the car, most likely. Nick wanted Steve out of the way and me under his control, I don’t think it was a coincidence that Artie got that urgent ping when he did. I think we should warn him.”

“Did.”

Steve looked at the shabti. “Oh, good artifact.” Pause. “Now you’ve got me doing it.”

“Well yeah, didn’t you ever read Stranger in a Strange Land?

“Only the first chapter.”

She waved the issue away. “I’m going to run a few paranoia checks. I doubt I’ll be able to figure out what Nick wanted, but it will make me feel better.”

“I’m going to go back to Leena’s and grab the mission report paperwork. Right now, I’d feel more secure doing it here.”

Everything was quiet, if slightly nervous, until Artie returned with the other two.

“He got away,” Pete said by way of explanation as the force of Artie’s glare sent Claudia dashing away from the desk.

“If the manifest was right, he – whoever he is – now has half the Philosopher’s Stone.” Artie took a moment to silently apologize for his boiling black anger.

“But the good news,” Pete offered with false cheer, “is that we found the lost artifacts! The Regents will have them shipped here next week.”

Artie wasn’t cheered. “Yeah, and in the meantime, we have an unknown group of people who both know about the Warehouse and came uncomfortably close to actually getting what they want from inside it, and our only clue is that they have the half of the Philosopher’s Stone that was in Warehouse Twelve.” He looked at the phonograph. “You know what to do, Lily.”

Steve looked up. “Hey Artie, any progress on her vocabulary?”

“Actually…Claudia, your next project, to be worked on in between your actual duties, is to find a way to get Lily hooked into the computer system. The shabti speaks demotic; she has to translate everything twice trying to get her meaning across and it’s never going to be an effective way to communicate.”

“But if she can get into the computer,” Claudia said with growing enthusiasm, “she’ll be able to learn directly from the servers and possibly…” She didn’t finish the thought, fountaining sparkles of delight obscuring the words that would have been there before she throttled them back down. “I’m on it,” she said instead.

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