(TAYLOR HEBERT) CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Ever since Taylor had acquired the Omnitrix, she had found herself in more strange and unusual situations than she could reasonably have anticipated. Fighting giant monsters, discovering that aliens existed, intimidating Lung, meeting the Triumvirate, and being dragged across dimensions by an Endbringer had all managed to become part of her life within a remarkably short period. Still, finding herself suspended in a seemingly endless darkness, facing two enormous green heads arguing with one another, was something she hadn’t expected.

“…and I maintain that the decision was entirely justified!” one of them declared.

“Justified? You call that justified?” the other shot back. “You ignored every reasonable argument I presented and proceeded as though your opinion were the only one that mattered!”

“My opinion was the only one that mattered because yours was demonstrably incorrect!”

“Oh, do spare me!”

Taylor waited for one of them to notice her, but neither seemed particularly interested in anything beyond their argument. She glanced around, trying to make sense of her surroundings, though there wasn’t much to see. Darkness stretched in every direction, with no obvious floor or walls, and the two heads were the only other things she could make out.

“Excuse me?”

Neither responded.

“Hello?” she called, raising her voice. “Could either of you tell me where I am?”

That finally got their attention. Both heads turned towards her, their expressions shifting from irritation to surprise.

“Oh!” The female-sounding head regarded her with interest. “We have a visitor.”

“An unexpected one,” the other added, narrowing his eyes. “How did you get here?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that.” Taylor glanced between them. “I was using the watch, and then I ended up here. I assume you have something to do with it?”

“Indeed,” the female head replied. “You are within a Celestialsapien.”

Taylor blinked. “A Celestialsapien?”

“Of course,” the male head said. “Where else would you be?”

She decided to let that go. “All right, then. Who are you?”

“I am Serena, the voice of love and compassion,” the female head explained.

“And I am Bellicus, the voice of rage and aggression,” the male head announced. “Though I fail to see why introductions are necessary when the circumstances of your arrival are far more pressing.”

“Because I have no idea what’s going on,” Taylor replied. “And I’d appreciate it if someone explained things to me.”

Serena gave Bellicus a pointed look before turning back to Taylor. “That is understandable. What would you like to know?”

“For starters, what can a Celestialsapien actually do?”

“Virtually anything,” Serena answered.

“Within reason,” Bellicus interjected.

Serena turned towards him. “There is no reason to impose such arbitrary limitations when explaining our capabilities. We’re the most powerful beings in the universe.”

“Arbitrary? You would have us act without consideration for the consequences?”

“I would have you acknowledge what we are capable of before listing reasons to avoid doing anything!”

“And I would have you remember that power does not absolve us of responsibility!”

Taylor closed her eyes and took a breath. She had spent hours trying to help people, searching for survivors and recovering bodies from the ocean, before walking through a seemingly endless desert with Paradox. Now she was stuck listening to two enormous heads argue over something she didn’t fully understand.

“Could you stop arguing for a moment?” she asked. “I need your help.”

The two turned back to her. Serena’s expression softened, while Bellicus regarded her with suspicion.

“What is it you require?” Serena asked.

Taylor thought of the settlement. The people there had welcomed her despite knowing nothing about her, and Paradox had managed to get them food and water before everything went wrong. She remembered how they’d gone about their lives, with no reason to suspect that an Endbringer would appear above their homes and tear everything apart.

Then the Simurgh had struck, and the settlement had become a crater.

There hadn’t been time to do anything. One moment, there had been people living their lives, and the next, there was destruction where they had stood. Taylor didn’t even know how many had died. She only knew that she hadn’t been able to save them.

“Can you reverse time?” she asked.

“Certainly,” Serena replied. “Time is among the many things we can manipulate.”

“Can you bring people back from the dead?”

“Of course.”

Taylor let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “And can you restore things that have been destroyed? Put them back where they were before?”

Bellicus sighed. “Must we go through every possible application individually? Would it not be simpler to accept that there is very little we cannot accomplish?”

For the first time since the Simurgh had appeared, Taylor could see a way to undo what had happened. She had spent so long trying to save people with her own two hands, knowing that every minute spent searching for survivors meant someone else might be left waiting for help. Even after the fighting had ended, she had continued pulling people from the ocean, hoping that some of them might still be alive.

She hadn’t been able to save everyone. She hadn’t even known where to begin.

But these two could change that. The thought was almost too much to believe.

“Then I want you to reverse time,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady as a rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “Bring back everyone the Simurgh killed in that settlement. Save Armsmaster, too. Restore Brockton Bay to the way it was before she tore it apart, and return the people she threw into the ocean to where they belong. And destroy the Simurgh before she can hurt anyone else.”

For a moment, neither head spoke. Serena looked at her with genuine sympathy, and Taylor clung to that small sign of understanding.

Then Bellicus cleared his throat.

“We have yet to settle the matter of the judgement.”

Taylor stared at him for a long second before swallowing the anger rising in her throat. “The matter of the what?” Her voice still came out rougher than she intended.

“The judgement,” Bellicus repeated slowly, as though talking to a rather daft child. “It is an important matter that requires our full attention.”

“Surely it can wait,” Serena said, shaking her head. “There are lives at stake, and she has made a reasonable request.”

“And we have not reached an agreement!”

“Because you refuse to listen!”

“Because you refuse to acknowledge the consequences!”

Taylor looked between them, struggling to comprehend how they could continue arguing when they had the power to undo the destruction around her. They had told her they could reverse time, resurrect the dead and restore entire cities, yet none of that mattered until they settled their disagreement.

“What exactly are you arguing about?” she demanded.

Serena turned towards her. “There is a matter we must resolve before we can consider your request.”

“How long will that take?”

“Until we reach an agreement,” Bellicus answered.

Taylor waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed perfectly satisfied with that response. She sighed, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of her nose.

“How long have you been trying to reach this agreement?”

“An eternity,” he replied.

She stared at him, wondering if he was being serious. Serena’s expression told her he was.

“You’re telling me you’ve been arguing for an eternity?”

“Quite literally,” Serena confirmed.

Taylor felt something inside her give way, though she wasn’t sure whether it was anger or disbelief. She had watched Armsmaster fight the Simurgh, only to see the creature’s arm pass through his chest moments before she was dragged away. The image had stayed with her ever since, along with the sickening certainty that he was dead and she had been powerless to stop it.

And now she was standing before beings who could bring him back, yet they couldn’t even agree to help her.

“You have the power to reverse time and bring people back from the dead,” she said, her voice rising despite her efforts to control it, “but you can’t spare a moment to save them because you’re arguing?”

“We are capable of performing the actions you described at any time,” Bellicus replied. “That does not mean we have agreed to do so.”

“I don’t see how that distinction matters to the people who are dead.”

Serena glanced at him. “She has a point.”

“She is responding emotionally to a situation she does not understand.”

“People are dead, Bellicus!” Serena snapped. “What part of that is so difficult to understand?”

“And what part of the consequences are you choosing to ignore?”

Their argument was starting again. Taylor wanted to scream at them, to demand that they stop wasting time and do something useful with the power they possessed. But she was beginning to suspect that anger would get her nowhere. They had been arguing for an eternity, and another outburst from a frightened human was unlikely to change anything.

“Fine,” she said. “Tell me what you’re arguing about. I’ll listen to both sides, and maybe I can help you reach a decision.”

Bellicus regarded her sceptically. “You presume to have the wisdom to judge our affairs?”

“I think another perspective might be useful,” Taylor replied. “You’ve been arguing for an eternity. Whatever this is about, you clearly haven’t managed to resolve it between yourselves.”

Serena frowned slightly before nodding. “There may be merit in allowing an outside perspective.”

“There is no need to involve an outsider in a matter we are perfectly capable of resolving ourselves.”

“Then why haven’t you resolved it already?” Taylor asked.

Bellicus fell silent.

Serena gave him a brief, triumphant look before answering. “We disagree about whether the other has properly accounted for the consequences of a particular decision.”

“What decision?”

“One concerning the proper use of our power,” Serena explained. “More specifically, whether the consequences of an action can be justified by the outcome it achieves.”

“Actions must be judged by what they accomplish,” Bellicus said. “If the result is necessary and beneficial, then the cost of achieving it must be weighed against what would have happened otherwise.”

“And the suffering caused along the way must be considered in its own right,” Serena countered. “A beneficial outcome does not automatically justify every action taken to achieve it.”

“The alternatives would have failed.”

“You cannot know that with certainty, and you refuse to consider the possibility that you were mistaken.”

“Because the evidence supports my conclusion!”

Taylor raised a hand before they could start arguing over the evidence. “Hold on. If you want me to judge this fairly, I need to know what actually happened. What was the decision, what were the consequences, and what alternatives were available?”

Bellicus looked unimpressed. “Such details are irrelevant to the fundamental question.”

“How can I judge whether the decision was justified if I don’t know what the decision was?”

“You are not required to judge anything.”

“Then you don’t need my agreement. You can keep arguing for another eternity, and I’ll be no closer to getting the help I came here for.”

Serena nodded. “She should be given enough information to reach her own conclusion. Otherwise, there is little point in asking her to intervene.”

“I did not ask her to intervene,” Bellicus grumbled.

“You have spent an eternity refusing to accept my conclusion. Perhaps a third opinion will finally settle the matter.”

Bellicus looked as though he wanted to argue further, but eventually relented with a sigh. “Very well. You will hear both sides, and you will judge the matter based on reason and evidence. I will not accept a conclusion reached through sentiment or incomplete information.”

“That’s fair,” Taylor said. “I’ll listen to both of you and decide whether either of you has made a convincing argument.”

“Then we shall begin,” Serena said.

Bellicus inclined his head, though he still looked far from pleased. “You may find the matter more complicated than you anticipate.”

“Maybe,” Taylor admitted. “But at least we’ll finally be doing something.”

Serena began explaining the circumstances that had led to their disagreement, describing a decision made long ago and the consequences that had followed. She had barely finished outlining the situation when Bellicus interrupted to correct her account, insisting that she had left out details that supported his position. Serena objected that he was placing too much emphasis on the result while overlooking the suffering caused along the way, and soon they were arguing over the explanation itself.

Taylor listened, asking questions whenever their accounts contradicted one another or left details she considered important unclear. Neither considered the disagreement a simple matter of stubbornness. They both believed the other was overlooking something fundamental, and neither was willing to concede that their own understanding might be flawed. Every time one of them offered an explanation, the other found something to challenge.

Taylor could see how an argument like this might go on forever.

Still, she couldn’t forget why she was there. The settlement was gone, and the people who had welcomed her were dead. Armsmaster was gone, too, and she had no idea what had happened to the rest of the people she’d tried to save. Leviathan was probably long gone, while an entire city that the Simurgh had dragged through a portal lay scattered across the ocean, its people among the countless victims of the Endbringer’s attack.

But shouting at Serena and Bellicus wouldn’t save anyone. If she wanted them to act, she needed to understand their disagreement and find a way through it. She would hear them out, examine their arguments and give them a judgement they couldn’t dismiss as uninformed. If that failed, she would find another way to make them listen.

She refused to accept that all the power in the universe could be rendered useless because two voices couldn’t agree on what to do with it.