March means green! Green gallery?!? March madness? Emerald Exhibit! Post your creative work featuring green themed Legion characters, storylines and concepts.
We love brand new submissions (stories, poems, prose, novels, paintings, drawings, photomanips, action figures, statues, busts, micros, etchings, etc.) but we certainly want your existing work posted in the galleries too! Come join us all month long starting on the 1st for the shindig!
Rokk continued setting the tables while blanking out Imra’s endless questions about that new guy, Gorf, or whatever his name was. They’d been working together as crew on the Star-Cruiser Quantus for two months, and he’d thought they were getting closer, but now this new farm-boy from Winath had all her attention. She’d never seemed terribly interested in his tales of sports-action, but he’d made an effort, and now found himself pushing her towards Garth just so that he didn’t have to hear anymore about his ‘hidden depths’ or ‘simple strength’ or whatever she was on about this time. Figures, his first month off-planet and he’d fall for a telepath. Ugh.
“Yeah, he’s great, Im, I like his arms, too.” Rokk said off-handedly while running the sterilizer-wand over the table, assuming that since Imra had stopped talking, he was now expected to pretend he had been listening appreciatively.
<Quiet, Rokk! Don’t look, but those men near the viewing port have guns!>
Rokk immediately looked to check them out, and while he couldn’t see any visible arms, he closed his eyes and stretched out with his other senses, to feel suspicious chunks of cold metal beneath the exotic diplomatic robes of the three ‘ambassadors.’
<I said don’t look! You’ll make them suspicious!>
<I’m not looking, and you’re right, they have some sort of guns under their robes. I can sense them. But they're diplomats, Cadri I think, so perhaps it’s some sort of custom? Maybe it’s normal and they’re just decorative…>
<No, the are all very pointedly *not* looking at that woman in the green dress who just came in, and they are all thinking about their guns!>
Rokk opened his eyes and turned to see the woman in the green dress, only to be momentarily struck with her statuesque beauty and her clear sense of presence. She seemed to move into the room and through the chatting dignitaries as if she had her own gravity field, and he could see various diplomats and celebrities turning their heads and breaking off their own conversations to greet her.
“Madam Sarya…” “Your Highness…” “An honor, indeed!” “You grace us with your presence, milady.” “What was she thinking, oh my gods, that dress is so last millennium…”
Well, okay, clearly not everyone was taken with her, but still, the newly crowned Queen of Venegar was definitely drawing attention, and all eyes were upon her. Peeking, Rokk noticed that indeed, the three robed ‘diplomats’ near the viewing port were studiously looking out the window, suspicious behavior indeed as all other eyes were focused on the Queen’s entrance.
<I’ve warned the captain, and she says security is on the way. If we can just stall them…>
Cutting off Imra’s thought-cast, Rokk moved directly in front of the Queen of Venegar, “Majesty, the captain has asked if there is any specific refreshment we can offer you this fine day. I wouldn’t recommend Gandili Sparkle-water for just anyone, but there’s no chance that it would outshine your own radiance.”
Rokk could hear the gasps, and sniffs. The Athramite diplomat who had been attempting to get Sarya’s attention was muttering darkly, ‘The nerve! Impertinent!’ but as he was only three feet tall, Rokk had neatly blocked him while subtly attempting to steer the Queen away from the viewing port.
“Most gracious young man, that would be acceptable,” came the reply, which Rokk only barely heard as Imra’s thoughts boomed in his skull.
<Now! They are drawing their guns!>
In her agitated state, Imra thought-cast this message to the entire room, and panic ensued as Rokk spun to see three bulky blaster pistols leveled at him, or, more specifically, at the startled monarch directly behind him…
“Great galaxies!” “We’re all going to die!” “Run for the lifeboats!” “This was supposed to be secure, I’m going to sue!”
Blocking out the sounds of the panicking dignitaries, Rokk put one hand behind him and pushed the Queen behind him while he reached out with his magnetic powers, certain that he was about to die, as there was simply no chance that he could seize all three guns before a single trigger was depressed. Just as he reached out, a sizzling arc of electricity suddenly played across the right-most gun-man, and he quickly changed targets and seized the gun from the man on the left, wresting it from his grasp and sticking it to the ceiling of the compartment with a loud clang. The right-most ‘ambassador’ was writhing on the ground, and the farm-boy from Winath stepped forward, pumping a constant stream of electrical energy into the paralyzed figure. But he was clearly straining to maintain the arc, and the gun-man stubbornly refused to go unconscious, just twitching and struggling to regain control of his spasming muscles.
<Focus! I’ve got the one in the middle fooled. He thinks he’s shooting his gun right now, but I can’t hold it!>
Even as Imra’s thoughts cut through his distraction, Rokk saw the man shake his head and quickly switched his focus to seize this man’s weapon as well. This man had a firmer grip on his weapon, and Rokk ended up slowly walking forward, focusing all of he magnetic might on keeping the gun pointed up into the air, hoping to smash the thug with a serving tray when he got close enough, only to belatedly remember the first man he had disarmed was still quite awake and active. A vicious right-hook drops him to the ground, and Rokk looks up to hear the clank as the gun he had pinned to the ceiling abruptly drops. The gunman he had failed to disarm was smiling now, and swiveling his gun towards the farm-boy.
“No more heroes, I think. Get the Queen, and let’s move!”
And then everything is a blur. The man who struck him suddenly goes flying over his head and he can hear an outraged voice, “Unhand me, peasant!” Meanwhile, the farm-boy has crouched in front of the gun-man he has paralyzed and there is a loud *pop* as his hands make contact with the fallen man, who then lies very, very still.
Desperate, Rokk reaches out with his powers and yanks the fallen gun into his hand and stands up before the remaining gun-man, who is now pointing his gun at the farm-boy’s head. The stand-off is broken as Imra announces the arrival of security, and when the remaining gun-man turns to see the approaching guards, Rokk strikes him in the back of the head just as Garth reaches forward to grip his leg. Just catching the edge of the shock through the pistol, Rokk still has no feeling in his hand an hour later…
That hour is a confusing one, and the captain demands detailed reports from the three of them, separately and together. The head of security, who was apparently shirking his duty, decides to make up for it by yelling at all three of them loudly and obnoxiously, for, “Risking the Queen’s life with your foolish stunts! Of all the grand-standing…”
Fortunately, Imra helps him to block out this tirade, distracting him with reports of things happening in the other rooms, until suddenly she gasps in his mind,
<Oh, this should be good.>
At that, the door opens and Queen Sarya of Venegar swoops in, and the first thing Rokk notices is that she’s changed her outfit, already.
“Your Majesty…” begins the captain. “Thanks to the quick reactions of our security teams…” begins the security chief (even the Captain shoots him a look at this one).
“Be quiet.” The Queen says, in a stern tone that brooks no dissension.
Apparently oblivious to the social situation, the security chief blusters on, “It could have gotten out of hand, but the training our crew receive…”
His words are interrupted by a loud CRACK as the Queen’s dainty fist lashes out into the nearest wall-monitor, which technically should be shatterproof, but shatters nonetheless. Rokk hopes that wasn’t something important to ship’s functions…
“I said be quiet! And now, begone!” The Queen stamps her foot and points at the door, which obediently opens behind her. The security chief makes a strangled noise and the captain sweetly adds, “Please leave now. And, you’re fired.” The captain then turns to the nearest security person, “You are now security chief, Relfa. Please escort citizen Bro-kal to his quarters, where he is to remain for the remainder of the voyage.”
The Queen turns and the sour look on her face melts away. She nods to the captain, “Thank you. Where was I? Oh yes, I would like to thank your valiant crew-members for preventing this abduction attempt, the Emerald Throne is in your debt.” She smiles and extends her hand first to Garth, who, like the farm-boy he is, takes it and pumps it vigorously with a big grin.
Withdrawing her hand with some effort, the Queen’s smile is frozen on her face as she turns to Rokk and somewhat reluctantly extends the offended appendage. Rokk gently places his fingers beneath her palm and raises her hand to his lips, to brush a soft kiss to the amazingly large emerald adorning her middle finger.
Her eyes grow large for a moment and she twitches visibly and he can just hear the words, ‘unsanitary barbarians’ as her smile widens to grotesque proportions as she turns to Imra and just nods curtly. Imra smiles impishly and extends her hand palm up in the traditional Venegarian greetings to a superior while bowing her head, and Sarya visibly sighs in relief as she extends her hand palm down over Imra’s, hovering above it and promising the shelter provided by the ruling caste to those beneath them.
“It has come to my attention that your tour duties end this with this voyage, and that you are to disembark on Earth?”
Imra nods, and watching carefully, Rokk also nods. Garth seems to think that this was an invitation to share his life’s story and responds, “Yes ma’am! I’ve always wanted to go to earth, and working passage was a great opportunity to…”
“Yes, yes, wonderful!” Sarya says, with a little clap, getting ‘that look’ on her face again, and Rokk can’t help but feel embarrassed for Garth. Then he glances at Imra and sees that she is looking at Garth with a look that even a non-telepath can read as, ‘ah, the big goof, he’s so adorable.’ ‘Charitable moment over,’ he thinks sourly.
“I mention this,” Sarya continues, uninterested in the teen drama unfolding before her, “because I to will be dwelling on Earth for the next 12 cycles, as part of my training in diplomatic matters and galactic standards of governance. It is tradition on Venegar for the regent to be accompanied by a select group of champions, whom, in days of old, vied for her favor.” Looking pointedly at Garth, she adds with a warning glance, “Not that any nonsense of that sort would apply now, of course!” Imra is hiding a smirk, and for a moment Rokk loves her all over again. But the moment passes as the Queen’s next words shock him, “And I would like to invite the three of you to work out of the soon-to-be-established Venegarian Embassy. Your duties would be light, as the champions duties were traditionally less involved with protecting the person of the Regent and more in the performance of ‘daring deeds’ to draw her attention and reflect well upon her beneficence.”
“So, we won’t just be your bodyguards?” Rokk queries.
“I expect that I will have scarce need for such in New Metropolis. No indeed, the traditional role of Queen’s Champions was to function as heroes, as inspirations to the people, a reminder that any of them could impress her with their bravery and honor, and be rewarded with the opportunity to make a difference.”
Rokk peeks sideways at Garth, and he’s clearly eating this up. He peeks at Imra, and she’s looking introspective. Rokk’s mind is already made up, but he decides to give it a moment.
“It’s such an honor, it’s almost overwhelming! Can we have a moment to talk it over amongst ourselves, your highness?” Rokk attempts smoothly.
“Certainly.” The Queen replies, and from the look she has cast, she clearly has noticed also that Garth’s mind is already made up.
<It’s like nothing I’d ever even considered. To make a difference and not just be one of a thousand Titanians? To share my gifts and use them to make the universe a better place? My mother will *freak* out…>
And with that, Rokk knows that Imra’s mind is made up. She left Titan to get away from her domineering mother, and at every port call she worried about her mother appearing to whisk her back home. Back home, her prodigious telepathy made her alone in a crowd, but on Earth, her uniqueness would be a blessing, not a curse.
“I’m in. Are you guys in?” Garth seemed almost nervous, as if afraid to take this step alone. “You guys are my best friends! I can’t imagine doing this without you. What if I screw it up? I know these people laugh at me. Look at the dumb farm-boy, ha ha. But you guys are always cool with me…”
Rokk feels like an Imskian with shrinking sickness. “Um, yeah. We’ve got your back, Garth. This is the chance of a lifetime.” He looks guiltily at Imra, and she’s smiling to him in that way that he’d always wanted to see, as she places her arm on his shoulder, and the other on Garth’s.
<Let’s do this.>
[ March 04, 2007, 09:56 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Vee on :
You've seen her before but since this is her gallery in many ways, her she is...The Emerald Empress.
Posted by Vee on :
And her are the original founding members of her Emerald Legion.
Emerald Rokk... Posted by Vee on :
Emerald Imra...
Posted by Vee on :
and Emerald Garth
Posted by Vee on :
These three soon began recruited other members to help form part of the Empress' Emerald Legion. Some of those members are:
Emerald Phantom...
and Emerald Dragon...
Posted by Vee on :
As well as Emerald Chameleon...
and Emerald Sun...
Posted by Vee on :
Invisible Emerald...
and Emerald Star...
Posted by Vee on :
Emerald Dawn...
and of course, Emerald Wildfire...
Posted by Vee on :
And last but certainly not the least of this initial group:
Mon Emerald...
Posted by Tekwych on :
I would have used the name EmeraldFire and I REALLY want to see Emerald Dawn with her arms down!
These look Great, If you have high rez versions or larger images I would like to create a set of desktop wallpapers.
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Set, I love everything about your story! Really good. I certainly hope you have more chapters to post! The Emerald Exhibit is stickied all month, but the threads are forever!
Vee, I also love your Emerald Legion! I think the founders are my favorites, but they're all really good. I hope there's an Emerald Dreamer coming!
Love Emerald Dawn, too.
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Emerald Dreamer... Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter 2 "Home is where you make it" - where three travelers find a place, and a calling
Sarya, 53rd Queen of Venegar, Regent of the Emerald Throne, Keeper of the Eye of Ekron, was not a happy woman. The functionary next to her babbled on about the history of the building that the UP had ‘generously donated’ to be the new Embassy to Venegar on Earth, and it was an abomination.
“The Museum of Space, as you can see, was designed by famous Martian architect Rev Soon Ak in the quirky ‘retro’ style of ‘art-deco,’ which was undergoing a resurgence of popularity in the mid-28th century. A sign of nostalgia for a simpler time of boundless optimism, it’s kitschy, yet functional understated…”
‘Enough of this,’ Sarya knocked the data-pad spinning from the functionary’s hands with a casual backhand. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take it, just paint the damn thing green already.”
“It looks like someone fired a giant missile at New Metropolis, it got stuck in the ground, and they slapped a door on it and called it a building.” Garth muttered as they approached the bright-red door in question.
“I think that’s what they were going for, actually.” Added Rokk, turning his own datapad sideways, as if the building would look any less ludicrous from some other angle.
<Well, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?> supplied Imra, with a cautiously optimistic tone.
Opening the door and striding forward impatiently, the Queen of Venegars next proclamation was in a language understood by all sentients, “Aaaahhh!!!”
“What in death’s name is that *thing*!!!” she pointed at the towering creature roaring in her face as her Champions prepared to defend their new patron.
“Oh, that.” Muttered the functionary, still shaking his nerveless fingers. “It’s an artificial construct meant to represent an extinct earth creature, called a Tyrgorasumething Rekus.”
<Tyrannosaurus Rex.> corrected Imra, pointing at the name on her datapad. Lacking a datapad of his own, the functionary just glared at her.
“Yes, that. It’s one of the museum exhibits that was left behind when the place was closed down.”
“Well, it’s appalling, and completely inappropriate.” The Queen declared huffily, “It stays.” She pointed to a display on the second tier, “And those brutish looking ancient weapons of war. They stay as well. Everything else goes. See to it.”
Dismissing the functionary with an airy wave, the Queen placed her hand on the animatronic T-Rex’s snout and petted it absently as she turned to her Champions, “Welcome to our new home.”
What a difference three days and an apparently unlimited amount of money can make. The Embassy was now painted in a shade of forest green, with the ‘rocket-ship fins’ painted a darker jade green in contrast. Entering the embassy, the original foyer had been reconstructed into various meeting rooms and guest quarters, while the uppermost two floors had been cleared away and made into a grand open-aired throne room, with overlooking galleries that let to private chambers on the second tier. Every surface of every wall had been painted a dark metallic green, appearing almost black at a distance, and every door had been folded away into the walls when not in use, to be replaced with a gauzy pale-green translucent sheet of cloth that billowed in the warm breezes that circulated through the chambers. The soft scent of earth and flowering plants, jasmine, morning-glory and lilac, wafted along these breezes, accompanied by the occasionally raucous cries of the birds imported to flutter about these interior gardens. The roof had been replaced with transparent crystal of such a pale shade of green that it was all but invisible at full transparency, that could be darkened on command to an opaque shade of near-black jade. Wishing to surround herself with the things of earth, her new home for a time, the foliage and fauna alike were all species native to this world, and green and red-feathered hummingbirds flitted about seeking sugary treasures, while a mated pair of quetzal birds engaged in some sort of domestic dispute about their new living arrangements. Sarya hoped they resolved this squabble soon. If they continued to disrupt the harmony of her court, she might feel the need to execute one or both of the disrespectful creatures…
Just over the burbling streams she had constructed in this interior garden, a throne of green crystal sat, and behind it, relocated from it’s former home on the first level, towered the crouching form of the extinct earth dinosaur, one tiny forelimb resting on the back of the throne, while it’s enormous head moved slowly, examining each other resident of the room, it’s massive tail gently sweeping back and forth. Every now and then, in accordance to it’s programming, it would sniff the air in the direction of a worker and utter a low growl. Delightful. Extinct or not, Sarya *would* find a way to have a living sample of this species.
The room was prepared, and within the hour, her Champions would report to her presence, to receive their formal recognition. Settling herself into the throne and patting the head of her enormous mechanical pet, Sarya awaited the day’s business.
“Oh, lords of steel and stone, there’s just no way.” Rokk exclaimed as he lifted his ‘Champion’s Garb’ from the box. Jangling and clanking in his hands rested two stone worth of metallo-mesh fiber one-piece bodysuit, which, in and of itself wasn’t too awful. Woven of a fine series of interlinked metallic chain rings, that Rokk immediately could sense as being composed of Braalian mag-steel, and further, seemed ideally suited to his own preferred magnetic resonance frequency, the suit looked to be form-fitting. The links were primarily dark jade green in hue along the chest, shoulders, sides, gloves and boots, with panels of lighter forest green along the under arms, inner sides of the legs and lower torso. Effective use of countershading, and not objectionable by itself, although he would have preferred that the colors be reversed, rather than call attention to the crotch. ‘And ass,’ he thought, as he turned the suit around.
Still, in his magno-ball career he’d worn far less tasteful attire, as he was well aware that the fans didn’t show up just to see dazzling athleticism. Sex sells, after all, and at least the Queen wasn't requiring him to prominently display corporate branding tattooed onto his flesh.
No, the questionable bit were these metal ovoids all over the suit. Each had weight to it, and had been shellaced a glistening metallic green, so that it was hard to tell if they were supposed to look like metal or gemstone. Also of Braalian mag-steel, Rokk knew that they would resonate with his own biomagnetic field, and be effectively weightless when worn close to the skin, but still, he couldn’t imagine not looking like a clattering ornament-drapped festival pole…
Oh well, nothing for it, he certainly couldn’t tell the Queen of Venegar that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the clothes she’d picked out for him. Shrugging, Rokk pulled the cold metallic suit on and stepped in front of the mirror with his eyes closed, waiting to see how bad it could possibly be.
“Wow.” It was astounding. The metal ovoids ended up positioned over shoulders, biceps, chest, hips, forearms and thighs, and didn’t only not look awful, they actually somehow accentuated his own musculature. If anything, they made him look *more* muscular, adding just the right amount of curve to look powerful, but not bulge out cartoonishly. Turning around, his secondary fear was confirmed. “Oh well. At least I have a nice ass.”
Practicing walking towards the mirror with a jaunty step, he looked a little cartoonish at first, but slowing his pace down and walking with a weighter, more deliberate step made the skin-tight outfit actually look like a suit of armor, and with the right confident expression, he looked pretty Champion-like and not at all like a teenager wearing a skintight bodysuit covered with shiny metal balls...
Oh yeah. He could work with this. Time to be a Champion.
<Thoughts of mercy! Where’s the rest of it?> Imra thought out loud as she dug through the package, hoping to find more components to this ‘Champion’s Garb.’ Instead, all she had was a long gauzy transparent scrap of cloth that looked like the curtains Sarya had insisted on replacing the doors with, <Have they no concept of privacy?>, a few dark green leather bits that could have come from a Serellian squirrel, <Actually, the squirrel would have hide left over…>, and a bunch of flexible golden tubes of Titanian psi-metal, <It’s illegal to export this off of Titan! It’s good to be the Queen, I guess…>.
Imra spent a decent interval attempting to figure out how these various components would assemble to form anything remotely resembling ‘clothing,’ <Great archetype! Couldn’t she have included instructions? I had an easier time assembling a mitochondrial DNA structure in molecular micrology…>
Finally, it was completed, although Imra turned the mirror around to block the view from the door, so that no one would see her changing, and probably moving stuff around trying to figure out where it was supposed to go. The leathery bits ended up just covering her, in the fashion of a bathing suit designed to optimize exposure to solar radiation. And there were shoulder pads, which seemed somewhat unnecessary, since half of her butt was hanging out. Perhaps she could attach them back there? Nope, they seem to be necessary as attachment points for the cape. Perhaps some sort of butt-cape? No, that doesn’t work either. The warm golden Titanian metal flowed smoothy around wrists and waist and neck. Slender snaking tubes worked their way under her arms and connected to the various leathery segments, even serving as very, um, ‘supportive’ structures that she found to be rather liberating, as without them any sort of movement led to more, um, ‘movement’ than she was entirely comfortable with. It felt kind of like warm hands cupping her…, and rigid psychic discipline ended that train of thought.
The golden metal also snaked around the upper portions of her legs, and she found it somewhat ironic that the metallic ‘jewelry’ ended up covering more surface area than the actual cloth costume elements. The boots were, what a shock, dark green leather, and brushing her hands across the leather, she was surprised to feel fine scales. Apparently it was designed to feel like reptilian hide. Unless, hideous thought, it was *actual* animal hide… Holding the offending item at arms length and scanning the inner tags and labels, she was comforted to see those happy words, ‘genuine synthetic.’
Finally, the last of the metallic ornamentation attached to her brow, with a lovely smooth green emerald center-set and she was done, the box was empty, and she’d never felt so naked, without actually *being* naked.
She whirled the translucent fabric of her cloak around herself, and, as expected, it concealed exactly nothing. <Wonderful. Let’s get this over with.>
The alarm went off again and Garth looked up at it bleary-eyed. He remembered that the Queen wanted them together for some sort of official ceremony in ten minutes, so he might as well get up and get ready.
Oh, that ‘Champion’s Garb’ showed up. Cool. Ripping open the box, Garth pulled out a skintight bodysuit in a shade of green so dark that it looked black at first. The gloves and boots were yellow, and golden lightning bolts traveled down the sides of the arms and legs, while a larger white lightning bolt ran directly down the center of the suit. Metallic golden bracers, belt and some sort of leg cuff things accompanied the outfit. ‘Neat.’
Pulling it on, Garth quickly ran his fingers through his hair, flexed a pose and dashed out the door.
Imra stood self-consciously in front of the Emerald Throne, arms-crossed and attempting to hide herself under her useless transparent cloak, while Rokk kept smirking and stealing admiring glances. Curse him, he’s practically wearing a suit of armor and I look like a Jazerri dancing girl, only not as pretty…
<Where’s Garth? I hope he hasn’t changed his mind! Great Thinker, what if he’s left and gone back to Winath…>
“You worry too much.” Rokk says, turning away, “I’ll go get him.”
He walks away quickly, before Imra can formulate a response, leaving her standing in front of the Queen, who is absently reading a datapad.
<Um, your majesty?>
Sarya looks up with a patient smile. “Yes, my child?”
<Is there any chance that there might a Champion’s Garb that has a little more, um…> floundering, she pirouettes around, showing her dilemma, <well, just *more.* Maybe something mysterious and regal, with flowing all-concealing robes?>
“Certainly not, dear. A Champion does not represent concealment or deception, she represents truth and honorable intent. If you are to be a Champion, you will have nothing to hide, no secret shame, nor display anything but pride in self. You are a beautiful young woman, and while I understand that it is Titanian tradition to conceal the material body in many layers of cloth, to admire and revere only the mind and not sully one’s thoughts with concerns over the disposition of the flesh, you are not on Titan. In this building, you stand among the traditions of Venegar, and as Venegarian tradition is prepared to honor you, I require you to similarly respect those traditions.”
“Did you have any other questions, dear?” Sarya finishes, looking back at her datapad, and Imra received the implicit message that this conversation was over.
Rokk stepped into the hallway that led to the quarters, and Garth came jogging into view immediately, somewhat out of breath.
“Hey, I’m not late am I? I thought it didn’t start for another couple minutes…”
“No, you’re not late.” Rokk said curtly, before putting his arm on Garth’s shoulder. “Look, Garth, I’m only saying this as a friend. If you’re going to jog in that thing, for the love of iron, put some underwear on…”
“Uh. Okay.” Garth grew uncharacteristically silent as they walked down the corridor to the Queen’s throne room. “Look, Rokk. I just wanted to say, y’know, just before anything gets weird…”
“What.”
“I like girls. I mean you’re cool and all, and I don’t have any problem with that sort of thing, and I like you, but I don’t *like you,* like you…”
“Never before has a Champion of Venegar been from any world other than Venegar. By choosing you three for this honor, I break with centuries of tradition, and so cast the lot of Venegar with the United Planets, in hopes of creating *new* traditions, for a new day!”
“For it is not the blood that flows in one’s body that makes a Champion. Since the earliest days, Champions have come from those of noble blood, and from those of common stock, for it is the *spirit* of a Champion that is recognized by Regent. Heroes are not born, they are made, forged in fire and adversity, and you three have shown the fire that reveals to all doubters that heroes are not just from Venegar. They can come too from Braal, and from Titan, and from Winath. Whether you choose this day to stand at my side as Champions or not, you *are* heroes, and no honor I could bestow could change this simple truth. I only acknowledge what already will be made known to all, that we stand in the presence of noble spirits, deserving recognition.”
“Stand forth Imra Ardeen, if you would be Champion, but be honored no matter your choice.”
Allowing her flimsy cape to fall back past her shoulders, no longer attempting to conceal her body from sight, Imra walks forward and bows her head, placing her hand forward, palm-side up.
<I would be honored to serve as your Champion, my Queen.>
Sarya smiles, and passes her hand in front of her crown. A green glow comes from behind her hand, and when she turns it around, the round emerald that sat in the center of the crown has somehow separated itself from it’s golden setting, and now floats before her hand. Lowering her hand, the emerald orb now floats before Imra’s widened eyes, and swells before her until it is the size of a man’s head. Inside of the spherical stone, a great star can be seen twinkling and Imra can hear voices of encouragement, as if from far away.
“You see now the Eye of Ekron, the stone of succession and chooser of the Rulers of Venegar. As the stone chose me to bear it through this lifetime, so shall it now ascertain your worth to serve as Champion. Every King and Queen of Venegar will see your face, and know your heart, but have no fear, for I already know their verdict.”
“Place your hand upon the stone.”
Without question, Imra does this, and feels a warmth course through her. From the surface of the stone, the crystal seems to bulge beneath her hand, and before her eyes, two tendrils of emerald extend from beneath her hand, and unite over her ring finger, merging into a seamless whole. With a painless surge of pressure, her hand is pushed from the surface of the stone, and she now bears a band of solid emerald.
“You carry now the Champion’s Ring. May it serve you body and soul, as you serve the cause of truth, body and soul.”
“You may now stand down, Champion Imra Ardeen.”
The process repeats with the remaining Champions, and Sarya completes the ceremony, dismissing the monitors and delegates who had stood in the galleries watching the proceedings.
“I understand that you have not grown up learning the lore of the Champions, and that some explanations are in order. Please be seated.”
The three Champions look around, but no seats are in evidence. Garth plops down on the ground, and after looking to see that the Queen seems to accept this without comment, Imra and Rokk also seat themselves.
“The Champion’s Rings are composed of the same stone as the Eye of Ekron,” the Queen says, the stone reducing in size and returning to it’s setting in her crown. “It has been a part of the ruling family since as long as there has been a ruling family, and it touches the souls of all who have born it. I can feel the encouraging presence of my parents, and their parents, and many others I have never met in this lifetime, Kings and Queens all. Through the Rings, you also will form a connection, and the Rings assist the Champions in three different ways.”
<<Firstly, you will hear my thoughts, if I wish it, even from across the universe, and in time, you will learn to communicate with each other…>>
<<<This is awesome, can you hear me, Imra? It’s like your telepathy! Hey, Rokk, how about you, is this working for you?>>>
“Or perhaps you will master it far in advance of my expectations,” the Queen adds dryly, with a glance at Garth.
<<<She’s so hot when she gets all Queen-y. Oh Great Harvest, how do you turn this off!>>>
Rokk reaches over and snatches the Ring from Garth’s finger and places it in his hand. “Down boy.”
“Ahem. Thank you, Champion Krinn.” Sarya quickly proceeds, “As the Ring entwines within your soul, to allow communication, so too does it enjoin with your physical self, and, traditionally,” with a glare at Garth, “this also takes some time.” Garth is still studiously examining his left foot, which has apparently become endlessly fascinating, holding his Champion’s Ring in his hand and glaring at it.
“You will find that the Ring sustains your physical state, such that you will find yourself in less need of sustenance, and even able to withstand extremes of temperature, pressure or deprivation of oxygen. The effect is limited. You will not be able to enter a raging inferno, but you will find that no matter the amount of cloth covering your form,” she smiles at Imra, “your body will not feel a chill, and you may indeed be able to hold your breath for hours, depending on the strength of your lungs.”
“Will we be able to fly?” <What?> “Fly!?!”
“Yes indeed Champion Krinn. I see that you have been reading up on the subject.”
“’On Wings of Emerald,’ according to the poem.”
“Exactly! As you have seen, the Eye of Ekron is able to levitate itself, and defy the forces of gravity. This Rings will enable you to do the same, and normally I would caution that this also takes time and training, but somehow I would not be surprised for you to again defy expectations in this matter.”
Garth had already slipped his Ring back on, while studiously avoiding looking at the Queen, and was sort of hopping in place.
Imra simply raised her hand as if pointing towards the ceiling, and slowly majestically rose towards the ceiling.
“Hey! How are you doing that?”
“And now my Champions, it is time for you to take these new gifts and practice them outside of my Throne Room.”
<Yes, my Queen.> “By your leave, Highness.” “Yes, ma’am!”
Outside Imra floats imperiously a few meters above Garth, who bounds into the air laughing as she spun just out of his reach.
“How come you can do this! I trained to be a pilot, I should be the one flying around already! And how come I got the communication thing first, you should have gotten that…”
“She’s Titanian, Garth. A born telepath. The rings aren’t using telepathy, so she’s having to learn a new language. Trust me, she’ll be better than both of us once she finds the frequency…”
“But what about the flying? This is unfair! Come down here, you tease!”
<Ha ha, I don’t think so. You’ll figure it out if you want it bad enough. I’ve been flying since I was a girl, in my mind. It’s just another astral dream to me, only this time, I get to take my body with me and not leave it sleeping in bed.> Imra is whirling through the air, gauzy cloak swirling about her, reveling in her new freedom.
Finally, Garth manages to catch her ankle, and looking down, he’s now hovering a meter off the ground as well. She gently pushes him off while he’s distracted and he quickly stabilizes and swoops around her, arms wheeling madly as he swoops through the air in great arcs.
“I’m flying! I got it! You have to try this Rokk, it’s not hard at all!”
Rokk just crouches and uses his magnetic powers to hurl himself into the air like a rocket, his particular specialty from the magno-ball courts, and then uses his powers to stabilize himself.
“Whoah!”
<He’s cheating and using his own powers. He hasn’t even started to use the Ring yet…>
“What’s cheating? I’ll figure it out, and then I’ll be faster than both of you…”
“Wanna bet. Hey, there’s the metro-dome. I bet I’ll get there first…”
<Not a chance, Garth. ReadySetGo!>
“Hey!! Cheaters! I'll get you for this!”
[ March 04, 2007, 10:01 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by dedman on :
Great stuff everyone.
Set, I'm loving the story. I hope there is more coming, its really good to see some writing in the monthly gallery.
Vee, your Emerald Legion is awesome, I especially like the empress herself and Emerald Garth.
Sketchy, your emerald dreamy is excellent (as usual!)
Posted by Set on :
Glad y'all like it. I've tried using the character generator for CoH to make up representation of the costumes I've envisioned, but they just aren't *perfect* and I suck at screenshots (they always end up dark and weird looking).
I've got two more installments. One dealing with the background of former magno-ball champion Kid Cosmos (Emerald Legion Cos), and the other revealing some of the alternate universe background of Garth and Imra.
If Sketch Lad wants to try his hand at them, hint, hint, I'd love to see 'em...
That picture of the Emerald Eye over Dreamy? Cree-pee! Yikes! Wake up Dreamy!
[ March 02, 2007, 05:36 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Monkey Eater Lad on :
Wow great turn out and love the variety of work already! I haven't finished my new piece for this month, but here's a couple of old pieces that are quite green naturally: Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter 3 "You have a hole in your mind" - wherein the convictions of our new Champions are put to the test
The UP sure knows how to make a new dignitary feel welcome, Rokk thought as he took in the amazing numbers of delegates and diplomats and ambassadors packed into the Queen’s throne room. The ‘Champions’ had been a big hit, for about six seconds, and then, as if a whistle had been blown, the delegates started spinning around in a dizzying whirl. At first he thought it was some sort of ritual dance or something, but standing back, he could see the patterns forming and breaking up. It was like some sort of chaotic fractal display, and the longer he watched, the better he could identify the power-players, to whom everyone else was orbiting. It was like a courtship dance, where the brightly colored animals dance around trying to draw the attention of the breeding females, and that comparison made him laugh, as one of the prime ‘breeding females’ was the dour Coluan Ambassador, Orin Fex, standing like a rock amidst an endless parade of people approaching him on some matter or another only to be rudely rebuffed, or outright ignored, at his whim.
Rokk was just close enough to eavesdrop, if he tilted his head just right, and a cute young girl who was certainly not old enough to be Ambassador of anything had caught the Coluan's sleeve and was standing on her tippy-toes trying to get his ear.
“It’s so green in here! You must be loving this, Orin, the entire room goes with you! But really, would have killed her to splash some other colors around?”
“The colors are tastefully arrayed Miss Guampti, and if you’d bothered to consider that the Venegarian visual range is centered around three distinct shades of what you call green, and that any color spectrum past yellow or blue is effectively black to them, you might have constructed a pair of lenses that allowed you to appreciate her eye for detail.” All delivered in a no-nonsense tone, as Orin Fex disentangled his sleeve from the young woman’s grasp with a surgical economy of motion. “As for your color, you are transparent, young lady. To your left stands Ambassador Ravin, reknowned for his lechery and lack of intelligence. Ply your wares in that direction.”
Rokk had been moving through the crowd slowly, pausing only to catch the last bit and bit back a smile as the young woman smiled brightly and flounced away towards the Talokkian Ambassador with a predatory gleam in her eye, apparently undaunted by her chilly reception from the Coluan appointee.
He wasn’t looking and suddenly there was a hand on his chest, stopping his forward motion before he collided with an older white-haired delegate and as he stepped back suddenly, an identical hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him from backpedaling into the Winathian Ambassador’s twin-brother. Mumbling apologies, he exited stage left, lingering to hear their dry exchange.
“Miss Guampti has assumed a new target.”
“Certainly not Orin Fex, I saw her prowling his direction…”
“Certainly not, although she made a valiant attempt.”
“Allow me to speculate. She burbled and flounced. He gave her a science lesson and a curt dismissal?”
“Just so.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I underestimated her charms. A science lesson and a curt dismissal? I do believe that constitutes sexual intercourse for a Coluan…”
“Very droll. And now she has her targeting reticles all over Ambassador Ravin.”
“Fish in a barrel. But he’s slippery, she might end up with nothing to show for her exertions.”
“Did you hear about her work with the Rimborian Criminachs?”
“Only that they signed an exclusive and punitive trade agreement with Caarg. Was that her doing?”
“Indeed. Five of the eight Syndicate leaders scoffed at the Caargite offer, recognizing that it was far to the advantage of Caarg. Over the next two days she seduced her way through their ranks, and when the final tally was held, they voted unanimously to go with the Caargite offer.”
“Breathtaking! Did they discover that they had been duped?”
“They did, but they were not mere elected rulers. Each Criminarch is head of a backstabbing association of murderers, thieves and extortionists, each waiting for the first sign of weakness in their leaders so that they can strike them down and take their place. And so the eight were forced to smile and proclaim their excitement and enthusiasm about their new trade alliance. It was a glorious sight. Then they piled back into their fleet of cruisers and headed back for Rimbor. Rumor has it they were firing on each other before they left the system…”
“She is a marvel, her father must be so proud. Do be careful, your taste for underaged morsels is well known, brother.”
“Oh, you wound me. Speaking of underaged morsels, how is your new wife?
“Most uncalled-for, I merely have your best interests at heart.”
Rokk grinned at the last, but noticed that the older brothers weren’t even looking at each other as their traded jibes, each facing the other and watching over his brothers’ shoulder to take in the entirety of the room, between them. There was no venom in their words, and he quickly realized that it was all for show. Their glittering eyes missed nothing, and their bickering served only to create the appearance of distraction.
And then any attempt at remaining a detached spectator ended, as the Braalian Ambassador plowed her way through the intervening delegates to stand right in his face. Ambassador Rela Martt had been a miner, and through hard work and back-breaking discipline, moved through the ranks of supervisor, manager, corporate flak, executive and was within a hairs-breadth of being the youngest CEO when she was side-shuffled into the diplomatic corps by terrified rivals, eager to get the woman they called ‘the guard-dog’ as far from Braal, and their own careers, as possible. She was the last person in the universe to be made Ambassador to anything, being notorious for her abrasive attitude, taste for micro-management and utter loathing of any idea that did not come from her own head. Absurdly, her stocky frame was draped in the frilliest pale yellow dress, with lace and many tassels, which snapped angrily in the air around her like hissing snakes as she maneuvered her fire-plug-like frame into his personal space.
“Mr. Krinn. I thought I saw you skulking around. I don’t know what Venegar was thinking, proclaiming the likes of you are her Champion, but it certainly sets her down a peg in my estimation.” Her meaty hand thumped on his chest as she stared up at him, “Do NOT do anything to bring further shame on your family, Krinn. You’re a screw-up, and it’s an insult to Braal that you are out here partying it up with your betters while hard-working Braalians are trying to restore the integrity of the sport.”
And with that she was gone, stomping away on her thick hairy legs.
Rokk set down his drink with a shaking hand, ‘Well. That went well.’
Imra had left early, complaining about the ‘noise’ of all the alien minds with their multiple agendas being a bit overwhelming. Thanks to the Champion’s Ring, he was dimly aware that she had gone outside, and was now either hovering over the building or perhaps seated on the roof, probably gathering her focus before making another attempt.
Garth had been standing in a corner, trying not be noticed, but with the amount of people present, it was hard to find wall-space, and it came as no surprise to Rokk when he checked the Ring and determined that Garth was also outside, near Imra. He’d noticed that Garth had become conspicuously absent about the same time as the Winathian Ambassadors arrived, and was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t the only Champion in no great hurry to be reminded of home and family…
Still somewhat shaken by the encounter with Ambassador Martt, Rokk almost dismissed the sight of a Karthooni diplomat shaking her head in disgust and waking out of one of the curtained alcoves. He moved towards her, but she just raised a hand and kept walking. Curious now, he moved quietly towards the entryway and peered within, only to see some huddled figures in whispered negotiations.
<<Garth! Imra! Get down here, now.>>
Already the whispering had paused, and someone had noticed a presence at the door, so Rokk just walked in, “*There* you are. Do you know how hard it is to set something like this up? We’ve got a hundred people out there, each with their own specific needs, and it would look appalling if we didn’t have the ability to accommodate our guests.”
The drug-dealer had gone into a defensive stance, moving his product into a fold in his robes, but seemed cautious. “What you mean, young Champion? I assure that the presence of security is not required, nothing untoward is occurring, simple negotiator of passage through extra-spatial rifts in the Vega sector, I am.”
“Security? No, I serve the Queen, and nothing you are doing violates Venegarian law. I’m here to buy. You sell, yes?” shifting to the staccato rthyms of gutter-speak felt natural, and Rokk felt soiled just hearing the words roll off his tongue, especially after his meeting with the Braalian Ambassador. ‘If she could just see me know. She’d kill me herself…’
Rokk hadn’t managed to make out the whispered words, but it sounded like it ended with ‘fire.’ Hearthfire was a happy narcotic, barely illegal. So Rokk picked the worst option, “I need Mindfire, and a lot of it. Payment will be in star emeralds.” The dealer’s multifaceted eyes clicked as the man shifted his focus. Rokk knew he had his direct attention now…
<According to the Ring, Rokk is in the left-most chamber.>
<<Stay outside, and out of sight.>>
“What’s going on?”
<There are two others in the room. Sweet concepts, they are negotiating for drugs!>
“What?”
<This can’t be right. Rokk just said that he wants Mindfire!> Imra started moving with purpose towards the room, but Garth pulled her back.
“He said stay out of sight.”
<Let go of me, you don’t understand, Garth. He said Mindfire!>
“You’re right, I don’t understand. But I trust Rokk. Let’s do as he says.”
<<Okay, I’ve convinced him that I need more, before the end of the party. He’s going to go back to his source. Imra, can you follow him without being seen?>>
<If he sees me, I’ll destroy his mind.>
<<Imra!>>
“Great harvest, Imra!”
<Fine. We follow him. We find his source. *Then* I end him…>
<<He’s got a man watching me, and I can sense a transmitter in the bag he gave me, so he’s going to know if I follow him. I can’t short it out without him knowing something is wrong, and I don’t want to just leave it here.>>
<Garth and I will follow him…>
<<He’s moving.>>
Imra spins around and grabs Garth in a passionate kiss, throwing him up against the wall.
<<Okay, we’re attached to the hull of his ship, flying off to harvester-knows-where. I love this plan. So what’s Mindfire, and why does it make you go psycho?>>
<It’s a drug.>
<<I figured that part out.>>
<It gives most races a sense of profound oneness with the universe, and rush of sensation that has been known to kill people in poor physical condition.>
<<So, say no to Mindfire…>>
<That’s not it. The reason I’m ‘psycho,’ is because of the source.>
<<The suspense? It’s not actually killing me here, but it does kinda itch.>>
<They make it by torturing a Titanian, and distilling the neurotransmitters from her system. To get a pure dose, they have to terrorize her to the point of nervous collapse, and because she’ll never be quite as terrified by the same thing the same way, they have to find new creative ways to terrorize her to keep the dosage levels pure. Eventually she’s so broken that they can’t scare her anymore, and they discard her as useless.>
<<Okay, I’m on the psycho shuttle now, too. Let’s fry these creeps…>>
<We’re slowing down, I’ve told Rokk that we’ve arrived. Oh, prime mover, there are a half-dozen people here. I can’t hide us from all of them, Garth…>
<<Fine. Keep yourself out of the line of fire.>>
<They have guns, Garth, and you can’t stun them all!>
<<I’m not on a space-cruiser surrounded by paying guests, Imra. I’m not going to shoot to stun...>>
The landing bay was deep underground, and as the shuttle landed, alarms began to sound and various sentients began to produce weapons. The dealer leapt out of the shuttle in surprise as a meaty tentacle seized him out of the air. “You fool! You’ve led them right to us!”
With that Garth came flying around from behind the shuttle and cut loose, blinding yellow flashes of lightning flying in all directions. Two gun-toting crims fell to the ground, not even twitching, without even having time to bring their guns to bear. Within seconds, the remaining four present had pointed various weapons at him, but they couldn’t seem to get a bead on him, as he flew through the landing bay at breakneck speed, flinging lightning bolts indiscriminately in his wake. Swooping through the air like some crazed stunt-pilot, at one moment he was swinging around the parked shuttle in a deadly game of keep-away, the next he was skimming along the ground mere centimeters from the surface, flying directly under one spindly-legged gunman and blasting him in what should be a most sensitive location, assuming his anatomy conformed to humanoid standards. Based on how he curled up and whimpered, Imra assumed this to be the case.
Still, the three remaining gun-men had regained their composure, and the blaster-fire was getting too thick for Garth to dodge. Imra tricked one into shooting another, while Garth wasted a moment attempting to electrify the deck plates and stun the tentacled leader. Unfortunately, the plates were too well insulated, and a well-aimed blaster-shot struck him from the air.
<Garth!> Imra made it to where he had landed unconscious, a smoldering hole in his shoulder, and reaching into his mind, she screamed, <WAKE UP!>
“Aaaagh!” Garth jerked awake in time to see Imra standing directly behind the original dealer they had pursued. For some reason he was pointing a gun into empty air and talking while Imra had picked up a fallen man’s gun and was holding it like a club.
“I’ve got you now, female. Surrender.” the noisome creature menaced.
“Dude, she’s behind you…”
Whack! Thud.
“Told you.”
Imra helped Garth to his feet, only to freeze, as a half-dozen more armed thugs entered the hangar-bay. The tentacled leader clarified their mission objective. “What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them both!”
<Gulp.>
“Here goes everything…” and suddenly both Garth’s lightning blast and a half-dozen blaster bolts intersected on the hapless shuttle. There had been an explosive rush of air and a thunderous explosion, and in the blink of an eye, the shuttle was parked, on it's side, directly between the young Champions and the gunmen.
“Hey guys. Thanks for saving me some.”
“Man, am I glad to see you, Rokk.”
<I can sense the Titanian here. We need to get to him.>
“One thing at a time, Im. Crazy gun-men first.”
With that, the gunmen came around the smoldering shuttlecraft on both sides, only to fall back as a storm of metallic objects from all over the hangar-bay and lightning bolts drove them back.
<Throw the shuttle at them or something.>
“Can’t. I drained my reserves getting here and doing it the first time. It’s going to be days building up to that sort of stunt again. How about you Garth?”
“…”
“Garth?”
<WAKE UP!>
“Gah! Fine. I’m good. Let’s go.”
<Rokk, he’s losing blood. I can’t keep him awake much longer.>
A piece of metal hull fragment suddenly flew towards Rokk and hovered in front of him. “Can you zap this and make it hot, Garth?”
“Sure, why?” he asked, but already pouring current into the metal until it was glowing slightly around the edges. “It’s not going to hold a charge or anything… AARRGGH! WHAT THE SPROCK!!!”
The metal had suddenly spun around behind Garth and slapped onto his wounded shoulder. A sizzling sound and smell of scorched flesh assailed them.
“You were bleeding. It’s stopped now. You can kill me later, if we live.”
<I’m blocking the pain, Garth. We need to focus.>
“Block harder. ‘Cause I don’t think it’s working…”
<Look out!>
And with that, combat was resumed, as the three Champions took to the air, no longer able to shelter behind what was left of the shuttle.
“Science Police! Freeze!”
The gun-men pivoted, to pay attention to this new threat, as a dozen heavily-armed SP troopers pounded down the launch bay.
<No one did, it’s an illusion, I had to wide-cast it to get all of them. Strike now!>
Thanks to Imra’s illusory ‘cavalry,’ the three Champions quickly dispatched the remaining thugs, and the leader, four blaster pistols torn from his nerveless tentacles was backed against a wall.
<You will lead me to the captive.>
“Titanian. You think I’d be trafficking in Mindfire if I wasn’t shielded against your kind?” the ring-leader blustered. “Your powers are useless against me. Release me, or the prisoner dies.”
<You’re bluffing. You have no men left. And you’ve never met me, so don’t tell me what I can do.>
With a wet gurgling sound, the ring-leader flailed about and collapsed in a heap of twitching tentacles.
<I’ve got the codes to the door.> Imra thought-cast as she walked over his twitching body and opened the bulkhead behind him.
Garth nudged the twitching form with his boot, “Imra, you didn’t, like destroy his mind, did you?”
<No. He still remembers his name. In a few months, he should have re-learned how to control his limbs...>
Impatient, Imra flew down the corridor to a door and entered another code, to reveal a darkened room where a single emaciated figure, body covered with half-healed scars, lay enmeshed in tubes and wires and machinery.
“Imra, be careful…” Rokk began, but she seized the crystal helmet off of the man’s shaven head and immediately both of them jerked, and the minds of all four were seized as the two telepaths made contact, and the young man’s fear and pain were amplified through the room, endlessly looping and feeding back upon itself at the speed of thought. Garth fell over immediately, the new wave of pain blending with his own and dropping him like a stone, and Rokk felt his mind shuddering around him. He managed to lash out and shove Imra away from the young Titanian, severing the connection and ending the assault.
“Science Police! Freeze!”
Rokk just shook his head, “Great timing, guys.”
“I said freeze!” repeated an SP trooper, pointing a gun at Rokk’s head as he tried to get back to his feet.
“We’re with the Venegarian embassy and have diplomatic privilege. Contact your superiors.” Rokk said, with his hands raised palm forward in a show of submission.
“Sir, we’ve got the Mayor on the comm. She says anyone wearing a green ring is ‘a good-guy’ and to ‘give them all necessary cooperation.’”, interrupted another SP officer.
<I contacted the Queen at the same time as the SP. She’s covering for us.>
“We encountered a man dealing Mindfire at the Venegarian Embassy, which is our jurisdiction. We followed him back to his source, and have made the arrest. This is now your show, and we’ll get out of your way. But we need medical attention for this Titanian male, and our friend. Now!”
“Sir. I have no idea what’s going on here, but if the Mayor tells me to, I’ll take your word for it. Get these people out of here! And put out those electrical fires in the hanger-bay…”
They stood before the Queen, who was on the comm with the President of EarthGov, the Mayor of New Metropolis, the Sector Chief of the SP, the Titanian Ambassador, the Karthooni Ambassador (who was corroborating Rokk’s story, having also seen the original suspect ‘dealing’) and a bunch of other people that Rokk didn’t recognize.
“Excellent. This issue is resolved. Thank you for your supporting testimony as well, Ambassador Marin, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The Queen signaled that this meeting was concluded and the dozen floating panels winked out one by one, after an interminable series of parting statements.
The Queen took a pause and sighed heavily, and they shifted their feet uneasily. "Well, my young Champions. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since the Ceremony of Choosing, and you already have earned the gratitude of the Titanian government for rescuing one of their citizens, and, equally importantly, shutting down New Metropolis’ most notorious Mindfire supplier. As I have honored you, so now you so quickly prove your worth by honoring me with your bold acts,” she pauses to look at Garth, still wearing a regen-pack on his shoulder, “and at great personal risk to yourselves.”
The Queen rose from the Emerald Throne and bowed her head before her stunned Champions. “Thank you.”
She sat back down as they gaped, smiling slighty. “Now, please. Do try not to stir up any more excitement today. I have a full schedule.” Sarya waved her dismissal, indulging in a warm smile to her departing Champions.
[ March 04, 2007, 10:02 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Vee on :
Here are a few more members of the Emerald Legion.
First, at the request of Techwych & Sketch Lad, here's another view of Emerald Dawn...
And Sketchy's favorite Legionnaire...Emerald Dreamer
Posted by Vee on :
And here are Emerald Giant...
And Emerald Belt...
Posted by Vee on :
Emerald Elemental...
and Emerald Wolf...
Posted by Vee on :
And last but not least (for now)...Emerald Enchantress
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Vee, THANK YOU for Emerald Dreamer. She's hotter than I had imagined! Her sister is lovely, too.
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter four. “Presenting, Kid Cosmos!” – wherein one of our Champions reveals the how’s and why’s of his journey to Earth.
Rokk shuffled uneasily, waiting for the Queen to finish her meeting with the Orandan ambassador.
After a seemingly endless round of particularly insincere, ‘Oh no, it’s *my* honor, majesty,’ they finally left and Sarya’s smile remained frozen on her face until the last of them had bowed and curtsied their way out of the room, at which point she flung her barely-touched goblet of Orandan dream-wine behind her. “Even your choice of beverages is both sweet and bland. Good riddance.”
Rubbing her temples, she noticed her Champion standing patiently and motioned him forward.
“Do you require something Champion Krinn?” she asked perfunctorily.
“If this is a bad time, majesty…”
“Do not waste my time with sycophantry. This world has far too many diplomats already. Always speak your mind to me without fear.” the Queen gestured impatiently.
“I was just curious, about the Champion’s Garb you selected. It’s Braalian mag-steel, but it takes months to energize the structures once they are assembled, and I can’t imagine that you had this lying around just in case you ran into a potential Braalian Champion…”
“Certainly not.” She admitted. “One of my agents found it for sale. The magnetized discs were crafted for the Braalian Export Commisioner to wear to his wedding.”
“The one that didn’t happen, because his intended eloped with their best man?”
“Correct,” the Queen smiled. “Apparently he had no interest in having such an unhappy reminder hanging around and ordered it disposed of. His aide decided that ‘disposed of’ meant ‘sold for a tidy profit.’”
“But it’s perfectly calibrated to my preferred resonance, which is pretty rare…”
“Unique, actually, but quite available to anyone who bothers to look up the vital statistics of reknowned magno-ball celebrity, ‘Kid Cosmos,’ three time planetary champion at the Braalian annuals. You do still have a few fansites active, you know…”
Wincing, Rokk attempted to lead away from this line of questioning, “So you just ordered it re-calibrated?”
“Correct. It may take months to charge the matrices, but it takes mere hours to re-calibrate them to your unique specifications.” The Queen steepled her fingers and leaned back. “Now, perhaps you can answer me a question. Tell me the story of ‘Kid Cosmos,’ his rise and fall. Tell me of this ‘ferrous hydraxaline.’”
Face darkening, Rokk’s posture stiffened, but he answered, eyes fixed on the enormous dinosaur directly behind the Queen, as if unwilling to meet her eyes.
“I was three-time champion, top of the rankings, with thousands of fanatical fans who followed me around like I was some sort of god. People paid more attention to my comings and goings than the President of the Mining Consortium. But there’s always someone waiting for you to fall, so they can be number one, and some of them aren’t willing to wait. After three years, one of my rivals decided to slip ferrous hydraxaline into my food. They had people *living in my house,* pretending to be my loyal fans, scrubbing my back, bringing me breakfast in bed, and, oh yes, *poisoning* me.” Rokk’s fists had unconsciously clenched and his arms shook with anger, he took a steadying breath before continuing,
“Small doses of Faith boost a Braalian’s magnetic intensity, although it makes fine control more difficult.”
Sarya raised a finger to interrupt the narrative, and Rokk looked stunned momentarily, as if he’d forgotten he had an audience, “Excuse me, ‘Faith?’”
“It’s the street-name for ferrous hydraxaline. They first discovered it as a clear liquid seeping out of a crystalline formation in an underground temple, and the visitors to the shrine would dab the liquid in their eyes, which would allow them to see metal veins in the walls. They called it ‘faith.’ It was never particularly safe, and sometimes people would go blind if they used it too much. Over the years, they refined it to be a thousand times more potent, and a thousand times worse for you…”
“Occasionally, some loser will use Faith to boost his power, to try and compete out of his league, but generally the lack of control gets them in more trouble than the power-boost is worth, and there is inevitably long-term nerve damage as crystalline structures start forming in the nerves and tearing apart the cells.”
“They fed me enough of the stuff to kill a half-dozen people. Turns out the flunkies they had dosing me up overdid it in their drive to impress their boss. I had mood swings, which the press loved. Every week there was some new report of me flipping out and threatening someone, and it was only a matter of time before the power-surges became too intense for me to control, and things just started falling apart around me. My body was so full of Faith by this point that they didn’t even need to drug-test me, the doctor could feel the contamination when they brought him into my cell. It took a dozen people to shut me down, my powers were so out of control, and so artificially boosted, and I was ranting and raving about plots and conspiracies and jealousy.”
“Ironically, I was right about that. There *was* a plot. But it didn’t matter, my entire nervous system was so degraded by that time that their attempts to remove the drug from my system was just as dangerous. The drug had *replaced* my nervous system, and if they removed it, I’d be paralyzed. It didn’t matter that it was obvious that I hadn’t willingly attempted to overdose and kill myself, I would never compete again, and my title was stripped. I spent the next six months in and out of hospitals, living in my parents’ house while they tried to deal with my imbalances. My mind, my body, my powers, all of them were going haywire, and I was a constant danger to everyone around me. I’d be so angry that they had to slide food under the door, or even call in security to restrain me, and then I’d be so depressed that my brother would skip work-shifts and classes to sit by my bed because they were afraid to leave me alone.”
“Finally, I gained enough control that I could get up and walk around under my own power, but the doctors were baffled. My nerves were gone, rotted away, but still I was moving, and the veins of crystallized ferrous hydraxaline served somehow as magnetic conduits. I wasn’t ‘walking,’ so much as jerking myself around by sheer magnetic manipulation. Lots of therapy later, I was able to walk, and talk, and feed myself, and spent a lot of time apologizing to my family…”
The queen looked puzzled, “If everything was starting to finally come together, why did you choose that time to leave Braal?”
“Lots of reasons. I *hated* Braal. One minute, I’m the most popular man on the planet, the next, I’m some cheating druggie pariah, and the people who used to wait for hours to shake my hand are now defacing my statue outside the coliseum and spitting at my brother when they saw him on the street. My people are hyper-competitive, and the only thing that gets the crowd howling more than a hero, is to see a hero fall…”
“But it was my all about my brother, really. Pol worshipped me, and he never gave up on me. He was never as good at anything, and he just got used to that. Anything he did, I’d done two years before, and yet he seemed fine with that. When I fell, he was so angry, but he never believed for a second that I had cheated, and he stood by me. But when the doctors came back with their reports of ‘miracles’ and being able to walk again and being more powerful than ever before, I failed to realize what this would mean to him. He saw it as his chance to be like me, and he started taking Faith.”
The Queen looked alarmed, “Did it harm him, as it did you?”
“We caught him in time. There wasn’t much nerve damage, and they managed to repair it all, but I couldn’t let him keep thinking that I was some sort of role-model, so I faked a massive relapse, and convinced the doctors to spread the word that my systems were failing again, and that I’d be paralyzed for life, my powers burnt-out and uncontrollable. We agreed that it was for the best that nobody on Braal think that the fluke that had happened with me meant that they should dose themselves with that poison on the one in a billion chance that it didn’t cripple them, or worse.”
“So I left for Earth, for some ‘experimental treatment’ that might allow me to live a ‘normal life,’ and I’d planned on keeping a low-profile until I could fake some sort of exo-skeletal suit.”
Rokk lifted his arms and smiled, “And now, I’ve got this suit, and I’ve told Pol that I’m still paralyzed, but this special suit lets me walk around like a normal person… As far as anyone on Braal knows, I’m a cripple, only able to move my limbs through the use of special machines.”
“I was a hero on Braal, celebrated for my athleticism and mastery of my powers. Now I’m a cautionary tale. Parents warn their kids not to be like me and waste their lives.”
The Queen settled back into her seat, having been unconsciously leaning forward, “Thank you for sharing this part of yourself, Champion Krinn. Your words are reassuring to me.”
“Reassuring? I don’t understand…”
“If I had ever had any doubts about my choice, which, I must stress, I have not, you would have reassured me that I was correct in my choice. You are indeed a Champion.”
[ March 04, 2007, 10:23 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Vee on :
Set, this si a great story you are giving us. Please keep it going.
Posted by Set on :
quote: Vee quoth - Set, this si a great story you are giving us. Please keep it going.
Glad you like it! Thanks for the encouraging words! I'm also enjoying your artistic use of the CoH character generator. I'm jealous!
A few more sections have written themselves, much to the disruption of my sleeping habits...
As with the previous sections, this is very much an alternate universe, so I apologize in advance for horrific violations of much-loved characters, and completely re-interpreted world-settings, since I've never been entirely fond of the depictions of Titan, Braal or Winath.
Emerald Legion – Chapter 5 “Dysfunction” – Imra learns an uncomfortable truth about Garth
The reception at the Xanthu’un Embassy was fascinating to Sarya, full of exotic animals and fragrances and energetic performances. Certainly the colors were tiresome, black on black on black, with the occasional splash of yellow, but apparently the colors chosen were considered to be quite complimentary to those with visual ranges to see them.
She had artfully dodged the Winathian Ambasssadors thrice, but this time she was out-foxed, caught between a babbling pack of Athramites and the droning introduction of a Dryadan emissary who… would… not… shut… up! In a classic pincer movement, the twin Ambassador flanked her and appeared at each arm, and the while she had not sought out this encounter, she had to admit admiration for their tactical acumen, and gratitude for ‘rescuing’ her from the Dryad, who had spent the last several minutes reciting his family lineage.
Cutting them off as they began their legendary two-pronged verbal assault, “Yes, I *have* received your missives, and yes, indeed, one of my new Champions is from Winath. Garth Ranzz is a fine young man and does your world a great honor.”
“Be that as it may, Highness, his family has expressed some concerns. Apparently, he left homeworld unannounced and they simply wish to contact him, if he happens to be available…” the Ambassadors wore matching smiles, and Sarya had already forgotten which of the two identically clad twins was which. She pointedly looked in-between them, “Champion Ranzz has fulfilled the Ritual of Choice, and is a lawful adult, is that not true?”
“Be that as it may, Highness…” one began, while the other expounded, “reports of his injury raise concerns…”
“*Then* he is free to live on Winath, or Earth, as he chooses.” Sarya cut in, placing a hand on each Ambassadors chest and pushing them gently, but relentlessly apart, to clear a path between them, “*If* you have a message to pass on from his family, and I’m *sure* that it is merely an oversight that his communications have not yet reached them, I will be happy to pass that message on at our next meeting. Champion Ranzz is a hard-working and honest soul, and I have no doubt that even as we speak he has his hands quite full with the pressing duties of his station. Good day.” Giving the Winathians a spare moment to produce a message, Sarya summarily bulled through their carefully constructed barricade and walked away.
Garth Ranzz dozed intermittently, ring-hand flung over his bare chest while his other arm was currently entangled under the snuggling form of Imra Ardeen, who was idly toying with the fingers of his ring-hand. The regen-pack was gone from his shoulder, and only a bare patch of skin, slightly pinker than the surrounding tissue, gave any sign of the near-mortal wound so recently inflicted.
<Garth?>
“Mmmm?”
<Can I ask you a personal question?>
“I guess, s’not like I could keep anything from you anyway,” he replied with a sleepy half-grin.
<You know I’d never pry into your mind, I was just curious about something.>
“I trust you, I’m sorry, go ahead,” Garth’s eyes were open now, and his voice revealed his concern that he’d said something wrong.
<I’ve been reading up, and Winathians usually don’t leave home-world without their twins. I hate to ask, because I’m afraid to bring up something that might be bad…>
“No, no, I have a twin. Heck, I have two siblings, actually…”
<Two? How is that possible? I thought all Winathian births were identical twins?>
“I’ve got an older brother, Mekt. He was a singleton.”
<Did something happen? Was there an accident?>
“No, not unless it happened real early. By the time mom knew she was pregnant, the doctors could only find one baby in there. At first they thought it might be a false pregnancy or something, but it was real enough. He was just alone.”
<That’s a big deal on Winath, right? To be all alone?>
“Yeah, it’s like being born without any legs or something. Like someone being born on Titan without telepathy, I guess… Anyway, he was all messed up, because of that. And then me and Alayn were born, and it just kind of reinforced what a freak he was. He didn’t like us much, and we didn’t really understand why he was mean to us, and so angry all the time, so *solitary.*”
<Did something happen to Alayn?>
“Yes. Well, no. I don’t know. We were just normal twins, like any other. I’d get up in the morning, and he’d be stretching and I’d run my hand through my hair and he’d run his hand through his hair and we’d both nod and head off to school. We didn’t need a mirror, we could just look at each other and see what we looked like. I’ve read that twins on other worlds end up dressing different or getting different hair-cuts or act different, sometimes one becomes ‘the confident one’ and the other becomes ‘the shy one’ or something, but that’s not how it works on Winath. We don’t *want* to be individuals. If my twin looks like me, if I’m wearing the same shirt, if he finishes my sentence and I catch the book he drops before it hits the ground, that’s how it’s *supposed* to be. If an off-worlder can’t tell us apart, that just means that we share something that they lack, not that there is something wrong with *us.*”
<And?>
“And then Alayn started keeping secrets from me. Well. One secret, anyway, but it was the biggest secret. I’d wake up, and he’d already be up, looking at himself in the mirror like he was staring at a stranger, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’d catch him looking at me, like something was wrong with my face and he wouldn’t tell me what. I never figured it out. I shouldn’t have *had* to figure it out, he was my twin. I should have *known.*”
<Known what, Garth?>
“When we reached the age of Choosing, he started taking Pro-Fem, and calling himself Ayla.”
<Oh!>
“Yeah. Oh. I couldn’t understand. It’s the way we are, to be like each other, and here he was deliberately choosing to look different, to become a different person, as unlike me as could be. It was the worst kind of rejection, like something was awful and ugly about me, that he had to change himself so badly to get away from me. I was angry and we fought about it all the time, and as the months went by, his body kept changing and every day his face looked less like mine, and I felt a little more of myself slipping away.”
<That must have been hard, but wasn’t it Ayla’s choice to make? I’m sure she didn’t make this choice to hurt you…>
“Yeah, I get it now, but it was so hard to deal with. Mekt would laugh at us, say we were a family of freaks, first him, then Alayn, and now he was gonna stick around just to see what sort of freakshow I turned into… And then there was the accident, and the scientists were poking and prodding at us, and I just couldn’t take it. I left. Walked into town and caught a ride to the spaceport, and begged every ship-captain in port to just get me off of Winath.”
<And that’s how you ended up on the Quantus?>
“Yeah, Captain Frake said I looked like a ‘healthy specimen’ and ran me through my paces, but I got a working passage out of it…”
<Souls in repose! Oh Garth, I didn’t know…>
“What? Oh no, it wasn’t bad or anything. I would have done anything to get off-world, and all she wanted was to get off period. I guess the big dumb meatworlder look really draws in the sophisticated inner world sorts...” The bitterness creeps in, no matter how dismissive Garth attempts to sound.
<Don’t you dare! You’re not a dumb farm-boy, and Sarya would march right in here and smack you for thinking that! The Queen of Venegar says you’re destined to be a hero, are you going to tell her otherwise?> Imra was sitting up now, holding Garth down with her hand as he tried to get up.
“Uh, no. I think she’d kick my butt.”
<Right, and she’d have to wait in line, because the line to ‘kick your butt’ would go around the building and I’d be in it twice! And don’t for an *instant* think that the big, dumb lunk thing is the only thing you have going on. You don’t think *I’m* attracted to that, do you?>
“Uh, there is no right answer here, is there?”
<Probably not.> Visibly calming herself, Imra continued with less fervor, <My turn. I grew up on Titan, a frozen chunk of hell where the people have to live inside pressurized arcologies, to protect them from the way-below-freezing temperatures and the too-thin-to-breath atmosphere. Everyone’s a telepath, and the concept of privacy? Non-existent. You wanted your brother to always be there, even drew comfort from that? I would put on a pressure suit and go stand on the methane glacier, just so I could be alone or five minutes out of the day…>
“I’d go crazy, if I didn’t have open skies…”
<Most of my people can’t stand open skies. They go crazy if they *aren’t* all lined up like vegetables all in neat orderly rows in their cozy little packages. At the age of Inclusion, when we are considered adults, we finally get to move out of the common rooms into our own private chambers, barely even big enough to stand up in. Our exercise routines consist of yoga and stretching exercises, because there isn’t enough room for us to be running around or playing any sorts of sports. Most of us are so wrapped up in ‘the life of the mind’ that they are only dimly aware of the physical world, creating works of art, or scientific theories, or doing remote work.>
Imra runs her hand over Garth’s chest,
<None of the males on Titan have muscles like this. None of them have *hair* on their bodies. None of them have skin this dark. Oh, sure, everyone’s in shape, because of the yoga and the biofeedback exercises, but nobody’s ever even seen meat, let alone eaten any. So when I say that I’m not one of those inner-world bimbos like Captain Frake, understand that you are as far from the Titanian standards of attractive as a man could get.>
“I didn’t mean…” Garth begins, but Imra puts her hand over his mouth,
<I know, I’m just making sure *you* know. If my mother saw you, she’d think I was completely insane, but it isn’t your muscles that I see, it’s your loyalty and your honesty and your longing for family and connection and stability. All these things are attractive to me.>
“Wow. Um, thanks. I’m going to sound really shallow if I say that I like your eyes, right?”
<No, just insincere. It wasn’t my eyes you spent the morning thinking about…>
“Hey, you said you wouldn’t read my mind!”
<I didn’t have to, I was there, remember…>
“Uh, no, actually, I’m forgetting. Help me remember?” Garth said with a grin, taking Imra’s hand in his own and leaning up to meet her.
Ah, a satisfying haul, Rokk thought as he balanced the tray of finger-sandwiches he’d managed to abscond from the reception going on upstairs. Time to see if the troops are…
A low sound from Imra’s quarters stops him in his tracks and he closes his eyes as he recognizes that it could only have come from Garth.
‘Well, that certainly didn’t take long.’
Having completely lost his appetite, Rokk sets the tray down on the floor and activates his Champion’s Ring, flying down the corridor at such speed that the pale green curtains whip about ferociously at his passage.
Bounding out of bed, Garth is at the doorway, poking his head out the curtain.
<Garth, put some clothes on before you leave my quarters!>
“I’m not leaving. See?” Proudly holding up a platter full of tiny sandwiches, “Food.”
<The valiant hunter returns. My hero. Close the curtain already.>
“Rokk must have brought us breakfast in bed. He’s so cool.”
<Uh, yeah. I’m sure that’s *exactly* what happened…>
“You don’t think he’s jealous, do you? And how do you manage to sound sarcastic in your head?” Garth mumbles around a sandwich containing unidentifiable meats and vegetables soaked in a pungent curry sauce.
<I’m not really sure. About either of those questions.>
“’Cause I talked to him about that earlier, about us just being friends and stuff, so I think we’re okay.”
<What!?!>
“You know, the whole male/male thing.” Garth made some sort of complicated docking maneuvers with his hands, betraying his uncertainty about the matter, “I’m not really into that, and at first I thought I hurt his feelings, ‘cause he seemed kind of angry, but he’s been okay with me since, so I think he’s over that man-crush thing...”
<HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!>
“Imra, are you okay?”
<HAHAHAHAHA! Snort.>
“Okay, breathe or something, you’re freaking me out…”
<BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!>
[ March 14, 2007, 08:42 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
4 more chapters are written (and I hope and pray that the story ends there 'cause I could sure use some sleep), but I like to give them a day between writing and posting. I change my mind like a wild mind-changing thing, and it will be easier to totally change my mind *before* I hit post...
Random details not explicated in the text.
1) Titanians never talk, much like in the Waid / Kitson boot. However, 'never' does not mean 'can't.'
2) Garth's powers flip on and off like a switch. Medical science can detect nothing out of the ordinary about him when he's not calling up the lightning, no electrolyte imbalance or tiny power generators in his cells or excess bio-electricity. So he can have machinery, like a regen-pack, strapped onto him, use normal medicines, etc. Where does the lightning come from? Not my problem. It just works.
3) Queen Sarya, like most Venegarians of royal blood, is stronger than a human male twice her size, but not Spider-Man strong. The Eye of Ekron holds the collective memories of every ruler of Ekron past, and they give her advice, comfort, a surprising level of willpower (including effective immunity to telepathic control) and limited psychic powers, equivalent to what the Rings give the Champions. She doesn't fly around because... she doesn't like heights. But anyone who suggests that she is *afraid* of heights (or anything else) is cruising for a butt-kicking. Fair warning.
4) Queen Sarya is in her mid thirties, has been for quite some time, and will be for several more decades. Another thing not to be mentioned, ever.
5) Kathooni males don't leave Kathoon. They are smaller and weaker than Kathooni females, and not terribly bright, being both easily confused and easily frightened. To the great joy of sentients of other species, Kathooni women are tall, strong, classically beautiful, and, best of all, fascinated by the concept of independent-thinking males who suffer the amusing notion of being 'equal' to females. This is utterly irrelevant to the story, but I find amusing and share for no reason at all.
6) There is no six.
[ March 07, 2007, 02:58 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion – Chapter 6 “Tell me of your homeworld, Usil.” – In which our young Champions share their impressions of their birth-worlds…
The three Champions had used their Champion’s Rings to ensconce themselves atop one of the spot-lights, watching the moopsball play-offs from a spectacular vantage point that no one else could challenge.
“I just don’t get it. *Team* sports? Where’s the glory in that?” Rokk muttered, not for the first time.
<Cooperative exercises are useful, Rokk. You have to admit we worked well when we coordinated our actions and didn’t all attempt to run rampage against those gunmen…>
“That’s different. This isn’t life or death, or military action. It’s for *fun.* What’s fun about sharing the glory?”
“I beginning to think I’d never last a second on Braal.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad, Garth. Yeah, we’re hyper-competitive, but it brings out the best in people. It gives people something to strive for, goals and dreams and all that.”
<That’s easy for a sports-prodigy to say. But it doesn’t work out for everyone, does it Rokk?>
With a heavy sigh, Rokk concedes the point. “That’s for sure.”
Garth was trying to figure out the game again, “This game is stupid! They just run around for like, a few seconds, and then call time-out to argue about all these stupid rules for another half-hour.”
“On this we are agreed.”
<We’re all colonists, come back to the mother Earth, but we don’t really have anything in common with these people. Tell us about Braal, Rokk.>
“Not much to say. It’s just a rock that exports lots of exotic metals. Just about everyone is tied to the mining and enrichment consortiums, and we work like beasts, and then play twice as hard when shift is over. Our SP branch is the second highest paid in the UP, because we keep them so busy cleaning up after us. The only spectator sport more popular than magno-ball is bare-knuckled bar-brawling…”
“Second-highest paid?”
<The detachment to Rimbor is the highest paid, I’ll bet.>
“Yeah. Even we can’t compete with actual professional troublemakers.”
<Everyone has magnetic powers, right?>
“Not like mine, but yeah. When we settled Braal it was an accident. The third planet was lush and hospitable. Braal, the fourth planet, was a shattered lump of metal and rock that had been split open by a cometary impact a few million years before. The molten iron core spewed out in an enormous fountain that scorched Braal’s smaller moon, and formed the magnetite ring surrounding the planet today. The planet was all lopsided and broken, and after some ridiculous number of years, all of the chunks of iron that had rained back down to the planetary surface degraded into particles the size of sand. The entire planet was one giant desert, but the sand dunes were made of tiny chunks of iron, and when the moons passed overhead, the magnetic fields would sweep across the deserts and hurl up mile high clouds of charged iron particles that spent the next million years wearing everything else on the planet into dust.”
“So, obviously the colony ship wanted the third planet, and got sucked in by the magnetic forces?”
“Exactly. They had planned for it, but an asteroid shower damaged the ship and brought them too close to Braal, and left them unable to escape its’ pull. The captain realized that she’d drain the ships fuel and burn out the engines, and still not be able to escape, and then have nothing left to make a safe landing. So she accelerated towards the planet and cut the engines to save power.”
“Ballsy move.”
“Yeah. She tore into the atmosphere like a meteor, and only engaged thrusters when she was nearing impact, slinging the ship along the surface and letting the atmosphere break their velocity. She went all the way around the planet two and a half times before the desert sands, attracted to the charge the hull had picked up during entry, reached up and pulled the ship from the sky.”
<I don’t get it. Was it a sand-storm or some sort of magnetic interference?>
“The charged iron sands were attracted to the ship as it passed overhead, and the more of them clung to the hull, the more they slowed the ship down, and weighed it down… Fortunately, they also ended up cushioning the ship from the worst of the impact. The captain died, and six other crewmembers. The passengers in cryo-sleep were heavily shielded, with triple redundancies and all back-up power reinforcing those sections, and still, 23 of them couldn’t be revived. At planetfall, two crewmen and 227 passengers were left alive, on a planet with an unbreathable atmosphere, and magnetic fields so intense that most of their machinery flat out wouldn’t work.”
<What a nightmare!>
“Yeah, the first year was rough. But the passengers were all scientists and explorers, resourceful folk who had leapt at the challenge of colonizing a new world, so far out on the fringe that they knew it would be years before anyone came to check on their progress. They couldn’t live on the surface, so they tunneled down, using the airlock tubes to make a passageway down through the iron sands until they hit rock. Then they used cutting torches that they’d ripped off of the useless worker-droids to bore down through the rock and fashion caverns, which they immediately began to seed with renewable food sources, as they were already running short on rations. Thoughts of colonizing the surface were abandoned when the exploration teams were attacked by what turned out to be unknown forms of electromagnetic life. The head of the team was Resa Martel, and she was unconscious when they brought her back, her suit having been overloaded by the energy discharges, and having some sort of epileptic fit. She recovered quickly, but the researchers discovered that she had been pregnant, and that the baby seemed to have retained some sort of magnetic charge. Because of the high iron content, just about everyone was suffering mild metal poisoning, but she seemed to get healthier, and months later, gave birth to Genn Martel, the first Braalian. He was born with bright purple eyes, and a powerful magnetic field, and the colonists knew that everything had changed…”
“So the purple eyes, everyone on Braal has those?”
“Actually it’s a reaction to all the iron in our systems. Like me, Genn should have had blue eyes, but all the iron makes our eyes look purple. If a Braalian would have green eyes, the red from the iron would make them brown, and if they were already supposed to be brown, they would end up looking dark red. Purple is kind of rare, actually. Dark red is the most common eye color.”
<I’m surprised that the colonists so quickly accepted a child that was so different.>
“Ah, you’re already getting ahead of the story, Imra. And no, they didn’t all welcome the new child. A few superstitious weirdos, already stressed out by the living conditions and the shortages and the various energy disturbances said that the child was possessed by the energy creatures or something. Anytime something would go wrong, they would blame it on the birth of Genn, claiming that he was cursed or something. The other colonists were forced to move Genn and Resa into secluded rooms and guard them day and night, after a few fanatics attempted to kill them. It was nearly a civil war, until two other women gave birth to children with dark red eyes and similar magnetic anomalies. Neither of these women had ever been to the surface or encountered an energy creature, and that took some of the fire out of the movement. The last hold-out, a true fanatic who had snapped under the stress of the living conditions, ended up being killed by his own wife after she discovered that she was pregnant. She wasn’t about to let her husband kill her ‘demon-baby,’ and killed him with a plasma welder.”
<That’s horrible!>
“The other colonists banded together and held a vote. It was determined that she’d acted in defense of her child, and her desperate act was actually applauded. Five years later, she became the first elected leader of Braal. Who would have thought killing your husband would be the first step to a successful political career?”
<Only every woman in the universe, ever?>
“Heh, she’s got you there, Rokk.”
“Anyway, the shortages remained harsh, and it seemed like they ran on the brink of total collapse for three generations. During that time there were constant fears that the rationing system would fail, and there were constant rumors of a ‘death lottery.’ According to the rumors, anyone who didn’t perform a vital function would be denied a sustenance ration, to save vital supplies for those who were necessary to the survival of the colony. It never actually happened, but it had our people at each others throats for years, and even centuries later, we remain hyper-competitive, as if we aren’t going to get fed if we don’t break records and exceed expectations.”
<These fears only lasted for a few generations, and your people are *still* affected by them?>
“Yeah, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I guess fears rarely do.” Rokk conceded,
“Finally, the colonists encountered an underground sea, and a form of algae that was subsisting off of geothermal activity and chemical synthesis. It wasn’t much, but it was a carbon source, and they quickly turned it into a food supply. The days of rationing were at an end, and the deeper mines had turned up many forms of radioactive materials that could be used for power sources. Things were looking up, and over the next two centuries, exploration teams discovered that the electromagnetic life-forms were vanishing. Every decade there were less and less encounters, until it seemed that they were completely extinct. The Spiritualists of the Crystal Unity claim that for every birth on Braal, one of the creatures was replaced, and that each Braalian is a composite creature, both flesh and energy, but most people don’t believe that. Because of the whole ‘demon-child / possession’ incident, Braalians have a strong dislike of that train of thought, associating it with the crazies. I know that *I* certainly don’t feel ‘possessed’ by any sort of electromagnetic entity…”
<And yet, I don’t feel ‘possessed’ by the organisms living in my cells, or the ones in my bloodstream, or the ones in my intestines. Why would you be aware of a creature that has become an indistinguishable part of you?>
“I guess it’s possible. In any event, the worst of the storms seemed to vanish along with the entities, and over the next few centuries, the colonists were able to begin building on the surface, and soon established contact with the United Planets, who had never realized that there was an thriving subterranean civilization trapped on the world that they had marked as ‘off-limits’ and a ‘navigation hazard.’ We communicated by laser, until a Coluan scout-craft landed in our main city, completely unaffected by the magnetic storms, and the diplomat’s *kid* ended up showing us how to get our antique worker-droids active despite the magnetic interference. Something that took him a few hours of pondering, because he was bored, something he called ‘adaptive heuristic response,’ and it revolutionized our world. Any stubborn insistence that we didn’t need the UP after all we’d accomplished on our own vanished overnight.”
Rokk shifted as the night breeze whipped Imra’s cloak into his face. “Well, that’s it for Braal. You’ve pumped me for info, now it’s your turn. Tell us about Titan.”
“Yeah! I heard it’s cold there.”
<Very. Titan is the oldest Earth colony, but no one knew that for a long time, because we were hidden from Earth for centuries.>
“But Titan’s in the Earth system! How could they miss it?” Garth protested.
<Let’s start at the beginning. Telepaths have been native to Earth for millennia, but rarely welcomed. Sometimes burned as witches, or persecuted as ‘demon-children,’ like that first Braalian child, the only telepaths that survived were the ones who learned to hide their gifts. By the early 22nd century, there were enough of us being born, and humanity was so closely connected, that it became impossible to deny our presence any longer, and some cultures turned paranoid and began to cull any child that showed signs of the gift. There wasn’t a culture on the planet that didn’t strictly regulate telepathy, declaring telepathic contact to be ‘mental trespassing,’ or eavesdropping, coercion, espionage or even rape!>
“That’s just crazy!”
<Everybody had secret shames and fears back then, Garth, and would die, or, more likely, *kill,* to keep those secrets. Telepaths were the ultimate threat to society-as-it-was, and so we found it increasingly impossible to live in peace among ‘normal’ humans. The first proposed withdrawal was at a summit in Europe, a summit that was attacked by racist terrorists, resulting in the deaths of some of the most outspoken and publicly-known telepaths. It was in Amundsen City that the Earth’s telepaths began to gather, but even Antarctica wasn’t far enough away, and they came up with a desperate scheme. Earth was constructing it’s first large-scale colony ship, intended to take five hundred colonists to settle Mars, and the telepaths seized control of a cruise ship, the Pacific Princess, and traveled to the launch site in Hawaii, where they co-opted the entire site with their combined powers, and left Earth completely, leaving the would-be Martian colonists stranded on Earth, wondering what had happened.>
“That’s awesome! How did they know how to fly a spaceship? Did they have telepath-astronauts?”
<No, but a few hours alone with the original pilots, and the telepaths knew everything they needed to know. They knew that Mars was not an option. Earth could too easily retaliate, and yet the ship was not sufficient to leave the system. One telepath had worked as an intelligence agent for several nations, under various guises, and had learned of an alien base abandoned under the ice of Titan. It had been ultra-classified, and he wiped all knowledge of it’s existence not just from the data-records, but from the very minds of the few who knew of it. That was the telepath’s goal. They practiced mind-over-body techniques and entered trances, to reduce oxygen consumption and eliminate the need for foodstuffs, since the ship didn’t have supplies adequate for their longer-than-projected voyage, and upon entering orbit around Titan, they quickly located the base, and shuttled the people down over the course of several weeks, stripping every usable thing they could from the colony ship, before programming it to fly to Jupiter and plunge into the Jovian atmosphere in front of the exploration satellite orbiting that world. As far as Earth knew, the stolen colony ship had fallen into Jupiter’s gravity well and died with all hands.>
<The colonists spent the next centuries confined to the alien base, lacking the technical know-how to expand the facility. It took many generations before the technology was re-invented necessary to add onto the structure, and by then our people had grown accustomed to the bleak sterile surroundings, cramped conditions and tasteless protein bricks assembled from raw elements by automated machine. Making sound, or showing emotion, was considered rude and disrespectful. We became a race of pale-faced ghosts, never speaking, eating only tiny bites of tasteless food and drinking only water.>
”It sounds as hard as what the Braalian colonists went through, in it’s own way.” Rokk noted sympathetically.
<And yet, it was paradise. I would sit in my tiny undecorated quarters, gray walls over my gray sleeping mat, close my eyes and soar through skies of colors I had never seen with my own eyes, surrounded by living creatures I only knew from the memories past down over a dozen generations. We live a life of the mind, and most Titanians are content with that.>
“But not you.” Rokk added.
<No. I had to see these things for myself. I didn’t want to relive someone else’s dreams of sunsets that I would never see, of flowers and birds and a world with warm scented breezes where children and run and play in open fields. Mind-pictures weren’t enough. I had to *feel* these things for myself.>
“Is it everything you’d hoped?” Garth asked, as Rokk had fallen quiet.
<So much more. I want to go back to Titan and shake them and scream in their heads what they are missing. We don’t have to hide anymore. We don’t have to live like that. There is another world out here, of sights and sounds and scents, and it’s so *real.* Not dreams or psychodramas, actual flesh and dirt and sound.>
“Wow.”
<But they’d think I was crazy. They’d ‘calm’ me with soothing platitudes and psychic readjustment, saying that I was ‘overstimulated.’>, although the Ring keeps her warm, Imra wraps her cloak around herself anyway. <I’m never going back there. It’s all I’ve ever known, but it was never my home.>
Garth massaged his shoulder, which had stiffened up from sitting in the same position for so long before standing up and stretching, “Well, I guess it’s my turn. But it’s kind of a let-down. Winath was colonized only 200 years ago, and there really isn’t any big drama. It was a rich, fertile planet, and we moved in and planted some stuff and now it’s the bread-basket of the galaxy…”
“I’m sure it’s a *little* more interesting than that, Garth.”
“Winath was old when we found it, really old. It had been crawling with life for millions of years, but a radiation wave-front from an exploding supernova in the next system had sterilized most of the living creatures on the planet. It was perfect for colonization. A million years worth of fertile chemically rich topsoil, oceans teeming with decaying organic matter, an entire dead ecosystem lying in front of them, and it was all fodder for the new plants and animals that they introduced. We measured the topsoil on our farm once, and it went down nine and a half meters!”
“That’s a lot of tordek poop...”
“Yup. It was like a graveyard when the colonists landed, and they just dropped seed and stuff started growing like wildfire. The planet was just waiting for new life.”
“And that’s when they discovered the twin thing?”
“No, that’s a myth. Stuff grows fast on Winath because the soil is so rich. If you used the right fertilizers and genetically modified crops, you’d get the same crop yields on Braal. The only reason the colonists have twins is because we’re gene-modified that way. Our sperm trigger a chemical reaction that causes a fertilized egg to divide exactly once, and then chemically repel towards opposite sides of the womb, so that the two fetuses don’t get in other’s way during development. They remain connected by something sort of like an umbilical cord, so that if even one egg implants, the other one is ‘tethered’ and won’t be flushed out, to help prevent single births. It was intended to speed up colonization, but it’s become such a way of life that they never changed it back.”
<Yikes. The colonists *chose* to always bear twins? That’s quite a commitment…> Imra thought, her hand brushing over her stomach dubiously.
“Yeah, it was. There was no way the women were willing to just bear twins as is, there was almost a riot. So the first generation of genetic modifications caused their hips to expand slightly, to make child-birth easier on the body. It’s kind of a galaxy-wide joke that Winathian women are ‘full-figured.’”
“That must be the source of the term ‘child-bearing hips.’”
<On behalf of women everywhere, we prefer ‘Juno-esque.’> Imra declared defensively.
“Juno-esque it is, not that *you’d* ever need to worry about that…” Rokk backpedaled diplomatically. “So the farm animals don’t actually have twin births?”
“Some were modified in the earlier years, but for the most part, not any longer. It’s just the people. And those stupid space-legends about crops producing double the yields because of some weird energy field? That would be really nice, but it’s just a load of crap.”
<What about your powers? Rokk and I come from worlds where everyone can manipulate their bio-magnetic field, or read minds, but Winathians aren’t generally known for throwing lightning…>
Garth looked down for a second, but was smiling, maybe a bit too broadly as he replied. “Winath isn’t just the breadbasket of the galaxy, it’s also got the most sophisticated weather-control systems ever constructed, since our whole planetary economy revolves around crop schedules. Turns out that those big signs at the weather control sub-station that say, ‘danger, don’t touch’ are actually important…”
“Garth, I don’t need to be a telepath to know that’s not the whole story.”
“Look, I don’t want…”
“No, you look.” Rokk stood up quickly and moved so that he right in the taller man’s face, “We’re your friends Garth, and that means *if* you want to talk about something, then we’re here, any time, no matter what.” Garth’s mouth started to move again, and Rokk smoothly put his hand over it, blocking any protest, “And it *also* means that if you *don’t* want to talk about something, we aren’t going to pry, and it’s none of our sprocking business.” He removed his hand from Garth’s mouth. “Got it?”
Garth looked to Imra, unsure of her reaction, “Imra?”
<Everything Rokk just said. Every word. Applies to me as well. We’re not your parents, Garth, we’re not here to judge.>
Garth folded his friends up in his arms, “I love you guys! You guys are the greatest, you know that, right?”
“Oh, I’ve known that for years, Garth, but thanks for saying…”
<And we’re so modest, too!>
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion interlude “Are you now, or have you ever been?” – Where Imra asks the most important question of them all…
The three had returned to the Embassy and loitering in front of Imra’s quarters, as if hesitant to end the evening they had shared.
<I have a question, for both of you. It’s the most important question, ever.>, a playful smile flitted across her face and her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting.
“Shoot.” Garth responded confidently.
“I retain the right to lie about it, if it might serve to embarrass me…” Rokk qualified with a grin.
<You first Garth, are you a dog person, or a cat person.>
“That’s important?” Garth’s eyebrow raised skeptically, “We had dogs on the farm. Two or three, usually, and they were hard-working and helpful. When we wanted to go run around in the fields and play fetch, they’d play with us, even when Mekt was being a turd-for-brains. They were big dogs, working animals, and so they’d bowl us over and wrestle with us, and we’d have to team up, because they were so strong, but they never hurt us, it was just play. It was great. Dogs all the way.”
<And yourself, Champion Krinn?> Imra said with a slight curtsy.
“’Champion Krinn,’ is it? Well, very few people on Braal had Earth-pets, or any other sort of pet, unless they were really rich. It was a status symbol to have an Earth-pet imported, and they had to stay indoors, because the iron content of the atmosphere would poison them. Even then, the vast majority of Braalian pets were fish. But, as planetary champion, I was expected to live a conspicuous life-style, and I had an Earth-cat, Benni. I’d be gone for days at a time, doing tryouts and exhibitions and sponsorships, and I’d come home and she’d be sitting on the couch, looking at me like, ‘Oh, you’re home.’ It was the perfect pet for my life-style. I could come and go, and she didn’t suffer at all for it. I had this metal ball that made tinkling noises, and I would make it roll around on the floor and she’d chase it around. It drove her crazy when I’d make it fly around above her head and she’d leap for it and try to pull it to the ground. But she knew it was me, even if I was sitting across the room. When she didn’t want to play, or got really frustrated, she’d ignore the ball and walk over and swipe my leg…” Rokk’s smile faded and his voice trailed off.
<That’s a wonderful story.> Imra thought, looking so beautiful in that moment that Rokk was able to put aside the unpleasant memories that followed.
“And I think we’ve figured out you’re a dog-person,” Rokk added with a wry grin, nodding his head in the direction of Garth.
<Don’t be so sure. We had no pets at all on Titan, but we had *memories* of earth-pets that had been handed down for many centuries. They were our most prized possessions, these worn and faded memories of life on Earth, and they were a valuable commodity among our people. I have memories of running through grass and tossing sticks and handling tiny kittens, but I’ve never actually seen any of these animals with my own eyes.>
“We have to do something about that! That’s just crazy!” Garth exclaimed, as it was a great offense that Imra had never gotten to have a pet of her own.
<Yes, now that I’m Earth, getting to meet real animals is definitely high on my agenda.>
“You’re stalling, Im. What is it, dog or cat.” Rokk insisted.
<Well, I like dogs…>
“Saw that coming…”
<If I might finish?> Imra said with a glare, hand on her hip, until Rokk gestured that she continue, <Thank you. I like dogs because they are loyal and dedicated. Their feelings are all out there in the open, they have nothing to hide and they are always happy to see you. If you cry, a dog will curl up next to you and lick your face, and it doesn’t matter where you go, a dog will try to follow at your side, no matter what.> at Rokk’s smug look, she added, <*And,* I like cats. They always seem so commanding and confident. Everything they do looks graceful and deliberate. They never look like they’re sorry or confused, as if anything they’ve done is exactly what they meant to do. They never doubt themselves, and I always wanted to have enough self-confidence to be able to walk into a room and own it like they do.>
“So why did you think Imra would be a dog-person, Rokk?”
Rokk’s smile turned mock-innocent and the faint glow from his eyes shone through the shadows as he bowed his head, “Oh, no reason at all. On a *completely* unrelated note, how did you guys like those little sandwiches? I think the green curry added a pleasant feistiness to the dish, gave it certain… *lasting* qualities…”
Imra’s face flushed with embarrassment, but Garth just smiled broadly.
Rokk afforded Imra a smile before turning away, “I’m off to bed guys. I was hoping to do some training together in the morning, learn to coordinate and try that crazy team-work concept the Earthers are so on about, so don’t stay up too late…”
“Night man,” Garth waves absently to Rokk’s receding back, turning to see that Imra has already stepped into her quarters. Looking both ways, Garth pushes the curtain aside and pokes his head in, “Hey, ahh…”
<Oh come in already, you silly man.>
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter seven “Practice makes perfect” – wherein lessons are learned, and much butt is kicked
Garth looked up blearily to see that Imra was already up and dressed, wearing some skintight bodysuit of silvery-gray, over which she was even now attaching her golden psi-metal adornments.
“It’s not morning already,” Garth strenuously objected, flinging one arm over his eyes to block the light now filling the room.
<Yes it is, and it has been for some time. Rokk’s already up and on his way.>
A rapping at the door-frame served to underscore to Imra’s statement, and Rokk could be heard outside, “Wakie-wakie, kids. Time to kick each other’s butts…”
<Come on in Rokk, we’ll be ready in a second.>
Somewhat dubiously, Rokk entered the bedchamber, pointedly looking at the wall, only to start as Imra stepped directly into his view. He sighed in relief upon noticing that she was completely clothed. “So, no Champion’s Garb today? You are going to have to learn to fight in it eventually…”
<I know, I just want to work with what I know before I start adjusting to that outfit. I’ve already made an adjustment to the cloak so that it pulls free without effort. The last thing I need is someone grabbing the silly thing and yanking me off-balance…>
“A good choice,” Rokk then raises his voice, “Will Garth be joining us today, or is he afraid of getting his ass kicked by a girl?”
Pulling his Champion’s Garb up, Garth hops one-legged into view. “Yeah, yeah. I’m ready. Bring it, oh, talker of big talk.”
“No bracers today?” Rokk notes, pointing out the missing bits of Garth’s Champion’s Garb.
“No bracers, ever.” Garth corrected, “They were made of conducive gold, and it’s hard enough to aim lightning bolts without the pull of the metal making it arc back towards me. The stuff has a mind of it’s own, and I don’t want to have to fight my costume to use my powers…”
<Ok, move it. I’m getting bored already.> Imra declared in a no-nonsense tone that left both of her fellow Champion’s looking questioning at each other as she strode out of the room.
In the room that the Champion’s had cleared out in sub-level 3, Imra was stretching in a manner that caused Rokk to stop dead in the doorway, only to have an inattentive Garth plow right into him, before pausing to similarly admire the view.
<Keep staring at me like that and the next thing you’ll see is me kicking your ass.>
“So, Garth, your girlfriend has suddenly transformed into the master of smack-talk.”
<Get your champion-of-the-world-washed-up-ex-sports-god butt out here, ‘Kid Cosmos,’ and I’ll make you eat those words.>
Garth just threw his hands up with a bewildered expression on his face. “Shouldn’t have called her ‘fiesty,’ man. You brought this on yourself.”
Rokk stepped out onto the mats with Imra, who was just uncoiling from a yogic posture on the ground in a move that some gymnasts would consider challenging.
“Well, you’re certainly flexible…” Rokk began, but was suddenly backpedaling desperately as a rain of blows came at his face, seemingly from all directions.
<Less talky-talk, more fighty-fight, pretty-boy.>, Imra thought with a cool mental clarity that Rokk found as disturbing as her aggressive attack.
‘Ooof’ Rokk was getting punished, and only the reinforced metal structure of his Champion’s Garb was going to spare him from bruises on the ribs she had just kicked. “Aaagh!,” and then he was on the ground, having had his legs swept out by a graceful spinning sweep. She was back on her feet and smiling at him.
<Wuss.>
“Can we have a time out for me to catch my breath, Kung Fu Super-Chick?” Rokk pleaded, hauling himself to his feet.
<Sure. Want a blankie and some warm tea with that?>
“Seriously, Im, what’s up with you?”
<Nothing’s ‘up’ with me, I’m just a better fighter than the both of you put together, and it’s my job to whip you into shape. And, for your information, I don’t like ‘Im.’ My name is Imra. Champion Ardeen, if you piss me off…”
“Now wait a second…”
<No, you wait a second. I’ve been training my body since I was old enough to walk, and while Titanian physical conditioning isn’t *currently* an active combat art, it was designed from the martial arts styles of old earth. What looks like fluffy prana-adjustment moving meditations are a series of effective blocking and striking techniques. You’re an athlete. You’re hell on the magno-ball court and in great shape, but you’ve never actually *fought* anyone.>
“And you have? I don’t think so…”
<I’ve practiced all of these moves since I was a girl. And yes, when I hit you just then, it was in fact the first time I’d ever actually struck someone with these techniques. Are you going to tell me that they weren’t effective?>
“No. You know what you’re doing. I get that, and I’m ready to learn, oh, sensei.” Rokk added with a sarcastic half-bow.
<I just want you to know one thing Rokk…> Rokk’s eyebrow arched and she continued with a grin, <This is going to hurt *you* a lot more than it hurts me…>
Garth watched the two of them move, and it was clear that now that he was mentally prepared, Rokk was able to block most of her attacks, although he seemed to be moving in slow motion compared to her. His own attacks were perfunctory at best, and it seemed increasingly obvious that Rokk was still not taking this seriously. “Man, don’t do it, she’s gonna mess you up…” Garth muttered, but it was too late and Imra yanked Rokk forward as he made a half-hearted strike past her head and as he stumbled forward she leapt into the air, sprung off his back and kicked him hard in the back of the head. He went down like a thunderbolt, but rolled to his feet in time for Imra to just miss a stomp to where his head had been a moment before.
<You *suck.* No wonder they stripped your title!>
Garth winced as Imra’s head rocked back from the force of Rokk’s backhand, and he rushed forward as she staggered back. Rokk was already apologizing, hands in the air, “Stone! I’m sorry, oh lords, I didn’t mean…”
Imra shook her head and regarded him with a grin, rubbing her sore jaw, <Don’t apologize, dummy. It’s about time you started actually playing to win and not jerking me around.>
“But…”
<Shut up, Rokk. I *made* you hit me. I earned that, and I’ll throw the regen-pack on it and not even have a bruise in the morning. It’s all part of the new game we’re in. Are you honestly telling me that if one of those gunmen at the Mindfire den had been female you would have held back? ‘Cause she would have shot you dead, and walked right over your corpse to shoot at us, buster, and we can’t afford that kind of thinking…>
“It’s not a ‘because you’re a girl’ thing, Im…, *Imra.* My hardest challenge match was against a girl. She put me in the hospital, actually. It’s a ‘don’t like to hurt my friends’ thing.”
<That’s very noble, but training was your idea, and we aren’t training how to lose here. We’re training to survive, and to survive, sometimes you’ve got to be willing to do things you don’t want to do. Do you think I really want to hit you?>
“I *was* wondering for a minute there…” Rokk said, rubbing the back of his head pointedly.
<Do you think I want to hit Garth?>
“No.”
<Garth, you’re up. If I sense you holding back, you aren’t allowed in my quarters for a week.>
Garth and Rokk both blinked at that bald statement, and Rokk was the first to react, “Oh wait, I didn’t realize that there was an incentive plan, can I try again?”
<Don’t push it, buster. I’ve got more where that came from.>
“You sound like an old holo-vid, Imra, nobody talks that way,” Garth said confidently as she lunged towards him.
Rokk watched the two of them move, and Garth was using his mass to good effect. He didn’t have the advantage of a metal-reinforced suit to cushion her blows, but he just kept shrugging off her attempts to throw him off-balance. Finally he got ahold of her arm and in a second he had wrapped around her like a python, and she was barely visible behind his biceps as he threw them both to the ground and drove the wind out of her with his weight.
“My big brother liked to wrestle with us, it was get good or get beat up...” Garth explained with a grunt as he continued rolling around, smacking Imra into the mats with every roll, keeping her off-balance.
<Yes, very clever. Off, now.> Imra thought as her dainty fist drove backwards straight into his crotch.
Rokk missed a second of the action as his eyes involuntarily closed in sympathy for his fellow male, but when they opened, Garth was rising shakily to his feet looking pale and Imra had rolled to one knee a few meters away, where she was wheezing for breath.
Neither of them seemed to be interested in pressing the attack, and all three were startled by the arrival of Queen Sarya, who chose to announce her presence by clapping her approval for the scene she had just walked in upon.
“Highness,” Rokk said with a bow, “we didn’t expect to see you down here…”
“Whyever not, Champion Krinn? This figure doesn’t maintain itself,” she added sweeping her robes off to reveal a skintight bodysuit similar to Imra’s but in a dark jade green. The figure in question was a fine one indeed, bulkier than Imra’s, but with no trace of fat, and indeed quite shapely for her age, which Rokk was not nearly suicidal enough to inquire about…
Garth had already put two and two together, and walked gingerly over to Rokk. “So, we’ve just been suckered.”
Rokk realized that he was right, Sarya and Imra had clearly talked this over, there was no other explanation for their matching skin-suits.
Sarya stepped onto the mat and said, “So, who’s first…”
The three young Champion’s sat on Imra’s bed, which seemed to have become their informal meeting area.
“So,” muttered Garth sourly, holding a heating pack against his back, “Venegarian women have super-strength.”
<And they’re resistant to telepathy.> added Imra, massaging a hand-shaped bruise on her arm. <Or, at least *she* is.>
“Lesson learned. Queens who have to face regular honor challenges to hold their thrones are not to be underestimated.” Rokk agreed.
“Wait a minute.” Garth began and Imra just shook her head. “You were cheating!”
<Obviously, Garth. I’ve never been in a physical fight in my life. Remember when Rokk hit me?>
“I’m really…”
<It’s fine, Rokk. The point is, he hit me because he *wasn’t thinking.* I made him so angry, he just acted, and that gave him the advantage against a telepath. I couldn’t anticipate that he was about to hit me, because he realized that he’d hit me the same time I did, as it was already happening.>
“Then how come I was able to grab you? You weren’t setting me up for that dirty hit, were you?” Garth glared suspiciously.
<Well, it was the plan, I had no idea you were going to crush the breath out of me so effectively. The slamming around and keeping me disoriented thing was very effective. If you hadn’t stopped to gloat, I wouldn’t have been able to get my bearings…>
“Hmm. Things sure would have been different if I’d used *my* powers,”, Garth proclaimed before turning to Rokk and drawing a deep breath. “Rokk, I’m not sure how to say this, but you were really moving slow out there…”
<It’s true Rokk, I’ve seen the vids of your championship matches, and you moved like a dancer. When you were on the court, your serves were blindingly fast and incredibly coordinated, but I didn’t see anything like that today.>
Rokk remained quiet, eyes closed, with his hand against his head, shaking it slightly as if attempting to deny his friends questions.
“It was the same at the drug-lab. You floated in, and sort of hung there in the air, using your powers…”
“Enough! Yes, I’m slow and clumsy.”
<That’s not what I meant…>
“No, but it’s the truth. I *was* really fast and coordinated once, but that was back when I had a living nervous system.”
<What?>
“I don’t get it, you’ve got nerve-implants? I thought those were supposed to make you *faster?*”
“No. The short version is that I got poisoned by a rival player, and the drug he used killed every single nerve cell in my body, except for my brain, which was protected by the blood-brain barrier. I was paralyzed and powerless.”
<Oh, Rokk…>
“That sucks! Did they find out who did it?”
“Oh yeah, the pony-tailed creep is in Takron-Galtos. They ruled it attempted murder. He won’t be out for years.”
<But, you were walking when I met you, and you had regained your powers…>
“The drug ended up replacing my nervous system, settling down in the same pathways where the cells had been. It’s a crystalline powder, superfluidic in structure, and it contains and channels my magnetic field. It’s actually a lot stronger than a normal Braalian nervous system, but it *isn’t* a nervous system. I can’t walk, or move my arm, or any of that. I’ve spent over a year re-training my biomagnetic field to move my muscles for me, and even then, I have a regulator chip installed in here,” Rokk tapped his chest, “to keep my heart and lungs and other systems working when I’m sleeping, or in case my powers fluctuate or are blocked. So yeah, I’m just a little bit cyborg, Garth. It’s Coluan photonic tech. Any normal tech wouldn’t work in a Braalian system, due to the magnetic fluctuations.”
“So yeah, I *know* that I’m slow, and clumsy, and nothing near what I was a few years ago, when I was a star athlete. I can walk, but I can’t run. I can’t dance. I can’t jump around or do gymnastics or roll to my feet. But every day my control improves.”
<I’m sorry Rokk, I had no idea.> Imra said, placing her arm on Rokk’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I just thought you were a little cocky or something.” Garth said
Rokk laughed, “Oh, I am cocky. And I meant what I said. Every day, I improve. A year and a half ago, I couldn’t get out of bed. Today, I’m ‘clumsy and slow.’ Next year, I’ll be as fast and coordinated as either of you. And I *will* regain every single move I’ve lost. That’s not a fantasy or goal or a dream. That’s a *fact.*”
“I believe you buddy.”
<I was so critical about the Braalian love of competition, but it’s really made you into the fighter you need to be. I’m proud of you, Rokk.>
[ March 05, 2007, 08:01 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter eight “Blood is 7.3 times thicker than water” – wherein our young Champions face their greatest challenge
The Kathooni delegation had not been formally accepted into the UP yet, so they had no Embassy of their own. Instead the reception was in the sprawling Talokkian Embassy, the otherwise lightless interior of which was decorated in gleaming Kathooni sparkle-crystals, and the many glistening decorations of the various Ambassadors and their retinues. The Talokkian staff themselves wore only armor-like accoutrements of reflective metal, and, as Ambassador Ravin proclaimed, ‘bathed only in the radiant magnificence of their guests.’
Queen Sarya had dressed in robes of deep jade green, effectively black in the dim surroundings, but orbiting her crown was a fist-sized star emerald, which had been specially treated to glow with its’ own verdant inner fire. Her face was bathed in a soft green light, and shifting shadows played over her face as the stone completed its’ circuit around her head. Imra had treated her gossamer cloak to radiate the subtlest pale green hue, not enough to cast any light of its’ own, but merely enough to be visible in the dark as a glimmering emerald shadow. Her Titanian psi-metal adornments shone with their own pale amber glow, and in the shifting light sources, seemed to move of their own volition, like serpents of gold writhing over her legs and arms. Garth had allowed the white and gold segments of his own Champion’s Garb be treated with a fluorescent dye, and cut a bold figure, with his face underlit by the dramatic white lightning bolt cutting down his torso. Rokk had skipped any cosmetic alterations for the occasion, and in the unlit shadows, the pale violet glow of his eyes cut through the darkness with a surprising intensity.
“Great, we’re all gussied up, and I can’t see a sprocking thing.” Garth complained.
“Just watch out for that Talokkian Ambassador. I think he grabbed my ass when he was introducing himself…”
“You *think?* How could you not be sure?” Garth muttered, wondering not for the first time was in this glass he was holding, since he couldn’t actually make out what color it was, only that it had a suspiciously thick texture and tasted like nothing he could identify.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ‘cause it was dark? Could have been anyone, really. Well, anyone wearing a lot of metal, I could tell that much…”
Garth got an evil look on his face and cupped a hand to his mouth, but Rokk nudged him in the ribs before he could make any sort of embarrassing announcement.
“What? I was just gonna holler across the room to Imra and ask if it was her…”
“Oh great, get us both killed why don’t you,” Rokk laughed. “What’s she doing over there anyway?”
“She said that she thought she ‘heard’ another Titanian in the room, but she’s having trouble finding them, so she’s on the prowl.”
Any reply died on his lips as the room suddenly exploded into brilliance, and the assorted delegates were left reeling and blinded by the explosion, as a thunderous display of *lightning* poured down in the center of the room.
The Talokkian and Kathooni in the crowd were most stricken by the brilliant display, and Garth could just make out a figure standing in the midst of the brilliant bolt of lightning that was traveling upwards to splash across the ceiling in a display of sparks and electricity.
<Surrender immediately, and die. There is no ‘or.’>, came a powerful telepathic command that neither Garth nor Rokk recognized, although the source was recognizably female. The command seemed to surge around in their minds like a crashing wave, repeating endlessly, and both found themselves momentarily unable to react.
A red flash, likely invisible to the light-sensitive members of the delegation was followed by a gut-wrenching stench, and Garth sank to his knees retching.
“Sweet siblings, the stench! What is that?”
“Sulphur dioxide, I think. And it’s killing them,” Rokk choked out, pointing at the fallen delegates, now clearly suffocating on the floor. “Rings, protecting us from the worst of it.”
“Thanks, Exposition Lad,” Garth muttered through his hand, futility trying to block the nauseating stench. He suddenly pointed, “There.”
Rokk turned to see a man in a blue and red outfit, wearing an unusual helmet and his eyes glowed red, much like the same energy flash that had preceded the sudden change in atmosphere.
“Venusian, methane-breathers, allergic to oxygen.” Rokk gasped, as he raised his hands and dozens of sharp-edged metallic Talokkian items of tableware flew towards the figure. Both Champions were surprised to see the man’s eyes flash red again, and the metallic projectiles dissolved into water and splashed harmlessly across the figure.
“We need to,” Rokk began when suddenly the room went dark again and he was suddenly lifted from his feet by a massive discharge of electricity which left him gasping and on the razor’s edge of consciousness.
Garth stepped into the current, blocking it with a stream of lightning from his own hands, and saw a familiar face backlit by the flaring discharge.
“Mekt?”
“Hey, little brother. Fancy meeting you here…”
Garth advanced slowly, his own streams of electricity matching the single blast that his brother seemed to be effortlessly sustaining, “Why are you doing this, these people…”
Mekt kept talking manically, ignoring Garth’s words, “You had the right idea, Garth. Winath was a dead end. Why stick around and watch little Ayla finish her transformation? Crying all the time that you’d abandoned her and thought she was a freak…”
“Shut up!” Garth screamed, switching from just holding his brother’s discharge at bay and pouring out all of his rage.
Mekt stepped back, a look of amused surprise on his face, and raised his other hand to focus fully on keeping his brother at bay. “Come on, you know I’m right. She’s a freak, and you couldn’t stand looking at her freak face. You were right to leave her behind. Who needs a twin, anyway? I sure didn’t…” his face twisted into a hateful sneer, and Garth felt himself falling back under the blistering strain.
Rokk had regained his breath, and noticed that a half-dozen men in masks were walking among the fallen ambassadors and snatching up items of jewelry and shoving them into sacks at their waists. The Venusian was watching him with arms folded, apparently considering him no threat and waiting for him to make the first move. Across the room, he could see Imra standing directly in front of another woman in what appeared to be some sort of uniform. It was obvious they were having some sort of mental battle, as Imra’s arm was frozen in the attempt to reach the woman, and both of them showed signs of strain.
Of the Queen, there was no sign, and Rokk realized that they had only minutes before the delegates began to die from oxygen deprivation, but every time he seized control of a metal weapon to use, the red-eyed man just shook his head and it turned into water in a crimson flash and fell harmlessly to the ground. The man’s environment suit was made of some material that didn’t respond to his magnetic powers, and his hopes of cracking the man’s life-support systems open were dashed.
Sensing a heavy source of metal across the room, Rokk activated his Ring,
<<Garth! Switch targets, I’ll take care of your brother, you shoot the Venusian!>>
<<No!>>
<<Garth, do it!>>
Suddenly, Garth dove to the side and Mekt’s lightning blasts flew harmlessly into the drinks table, where several of the local beverages proved to be flammable. Garth fired a double-blast of lightning at the flat-footed Venusian, and as Mekt turned and started tracking the lightning to where his little brother had landed, a 200 kilo metal gong crashed into his back and threw him to the ground.
Rokk used every erg of his magnetic strength to press the metal gong down, pinning the lightning wielder to the ground, while trusting Garth to handle the Venusian. His trust was rewarded as the scent of sulphur abruptly vanished to be replaced with sweet, sweet air, heavily tinged by the odor of the electrical fires touched off during the brothers’ exchange.
He shifted his position carefully, and he could now just make out Imra and the Titanian woman now face to face, faces glistening in the flicking firelight as sweat poured down their foreheads, muscles straining as they gripped each others arms. Slowly, Imra leaned forward and it almost looked like she was going to kiss the other woman when she suddenly shouted in the other womans’ face, “BITCH!”
The older telepath looked shocked and flinched visibly before attempting to regain her mental focus, but it was too late and she closed her eyes and slumped backwards, stricken instantly unconscious by Imra’s mental assault.
The sack-toting henchmen attempted to flee, only to find that the room had been sealed, presumably by the villains themselves and while Rokk kept his concentration on making sure that the lightning wielder was pinned, Garth and Imra made short work of the remaining henchmen.
The main doors wrenched open with a squeal, and Queen Sarya and Kathooni Ambassador Marin strode into the smoke-filled battlezone, accompanied by a half-dozen statuesque armor-clad Kathooni security women, who quickly moved to see to the fallen delegates, most of whom were sputtering and choking, but seemed none the worse for the wear.
Within minutes, SP troopers also entered the room, and the criminals were manacled and led away.
Being dragged out, Mekt was red-faced and screaming, “Your idiot friends won’t save you Garth! I will destroy you for this! You’ll abandon them like you abandoned us, you don’t deserve friends, you don’t deserve family, you’re *nothing!*”
Garth was trembling with rage, and his hands were crackling and sparking with energy. The SPs continued trying to wrestle the struggling Mekt out of the room, but Garth had moved into the doorway and was blocking them from getting Mekt out, “Go ahead, let him go.”
Rokk stepped between the brothers, “Garth, no.” he placed his hand on the taller man’s chest, carefully avoiding his hands, which were tossing off tiny bolts of electricity that arced towards Rokk’s metal suit, shocking him painfully.
“Get out of my way, Rokk. I’ll burn you down.”
“No you won’t.”, Rokk maintained, only managing to hold himself steady in the wake of the stronger man by using his magnetic powers to hold himself in place.
“You think you can stop me?” Garth said coldly, his eyes glowing with blinding golden energy.
“Go ahead!” Mekt ranted, “Incinerate the fool! Nothing can stop us!”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. *You* are going to stop you.” Rokk pointed behind him at Mekt, who, thankfully, had been gagged by one of the suspiciously strong Kathooni amazon-women.
“I know you won’t attack me, because that’s what *he* would do. And you’re nothing like him.”
Suddenly the glow faded from Garth’s eyes and he turned away, shoulders shaking. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”
By that point, the armored Karthooni had given up on dragging Mekt out on his feet, and instead rolled him into a decorative tapestry, heaved him into the air and carted him off like produce, struggling feebly as Garth pointedly turned again so that his brother couldn’t even catch his eye on the way by.
Imra came up behind Rokk and put a hand on him as he sagged in relief. <Thank you. I could have stopped him, but it’s far more important that he stopped himself.>
Hours had passed, and the young Champions had returned to the Venegarian Embassy. Imra and Rokk sat in her room, while Garth had asked to have some time and soared up into the night sky.
<Do you think he’ll be able to get past this?> Imra asked, the concern tinging her thoughts.
“It’s got to be hard for him. It seems like nobody can hurt you like family.”
<Not just family. It’s the people we love that have the power to hurt us. We give them that power.>
Rokk looked around the room, as if the answer would be sitting in the corner, waiting to be found. “I’m not a telepath, Imra, but I know alone, and I don’t think Garth needs to be alone right now. I think that’s the *last* thing he needs. You should go to him.”
<No. *We* should go to him.>
“You guys have a thing…”
<That’s not the ‘thing,’ he needs right now. He needs friends. He needs family, and we’re his family now. You and me both.> Imra extended her hand. <Let’s go find our family.>
[ March 07, 2007, 03:00 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter nine. “Diplomacy, by Night.” – the beautiful coming together of two cultures [Warning: Semi-Adult content. Huh, huh, I said 'semi.']
“Hey Rokk, you decent?” Garth called out before barging in anyway.
”No, I’m sprocking amazing,” Rokk said, looking up from his hammock, where he’d been reading a pad on linguistic commonalities and the development of Interlac.
Garth waved his own pad enthusiastically, “Guess what I found…”
Rokk gestured impatiently and the pad tore itself out of Garth’s grasp and flew to his own hand.
“Hey!” Garth protested half-heartedly as he crossed over to lean over Rokk as he viewed the pad.
“It’s a nice likeness,” Rokk began, somewhat bewildered as to why Garth would have a spectrum-enhanced depiction of his backside.
“Wait for it…” Garth cautioned as he selected for the image to advance in half-speed, and Rokk watched as the Talokkian Ambassador glided by on his left, hands primly folded in front of him, while a second figure moved past quickly on his right, and a hand snaked out and gave his butt a firm squeeze.
“Image freeze, and pan out.” Garth said, and the image pulled back to reveal the Kathooni delegate leaving the chamber with Queen Sarya. The hand in question was attached to one of the Kathooni retinue, a heavily-armored amazon of a woman who had copped a feel without breaking stride. “Freeze there.” Garth added unnecessarily to he datapad. “And there we have it. The pressing mystery of Ass-Grabber Lass, resolved.”
“I’m just glad it wasn’t Ravin. Guy’s a galaxy-class perv…” Rokk conceded, before looking up to the proudly grinning Garth, “While I’m grateful, was this really what you’ve spent the morning looking up?”
“Actually, I was reviewing the security footage of the break-in. It was Mekt who sealed the doors. They meant to suffocate everyone and leave no living witnesses. That Titanian woman was just there to keep them from calling for outside help and keep them pacified while they died…” Garth’s voice was shaking. “I can’t believe he’d do something like that. I’m so sprocking stupid…”
With a heavy sigh, Rokk rolled out of his hammock and stood in front of his friend. “I’m sick of having to yell at you, Garth, so sprocking listen up this time!”
Garth started to lean back, but thumped into the wall behind him and had nowhere to retreat, “Wait, what?”
“I am sick to death of hearing you go on about this stupid farm-boy thing.”
“Actually, I am…”
“You *were* a farm-boy.” Rokk interrupted, punctuating his words by poking his friend in the chest. “Not any more. And you were never stupid. I’ve read up on Winath, and on you, and your flight trainer gave you the highest marks anyone got on the entire *planet* when you were fourteen. He said that you were a natural, that you could take apart a skyburner and put it back together with your eyes closed, and he said that he *hated* that you went back to the farm and didn’t stick with piloting as a career choice.”
“It’s just natural talent, ‘though, like your magno-ball, it’s not like *science* or anything…”
“First of all, you have no idea what it takes to play magno-ball, so don’t even compare the two, and second of all, there is a hell of a lot more to piloting than instinct or natural talent. You have to deal with hundreds of variables, all with enough speed and wit to avoid any of a dozen possible disastrous decisions. Flying doesn’t take balls, Ranzz, it takes *brains.*”
“I kinda used both, actually…”
“Regardless, if balls were all you used, you would have died on your first solo flight, and certainly not gotten highest marks.”
“It’s just, all my life, I wasn’t smart enough. I always thought, if I’d been a little smarter, I would have been able to figure out why Mekt hated us. I would have known what was up with Alayn, *Ayla,* know the right things to say to make it easier...”
“You can’t live other people’s lives for them, Garth. They’ll make their own choices, choices you never would have imagined for them, but it’s not your fault, and you’re not responsible for Ayla’s choice, and you sure as hell aren’t responsible for Mekt…” Rokk’s face softened as he came to a sudden realization. “It was Mekt.” Garth didn’t react, and Rokk stepped back, “Mekt’s been telling you that you were stupid all your life, hasn’t he?”
“He always knew stuff, and he’d just give me that look when I didn’t know something, like I was one of the meat-animals or something…”
“He was *older* Garth. *Of course,* he knew stuff that you hadn’t learned yet.” Rokk shook his head, “And this is the problem with Winath.” Garth looked puzzled at the shift in topic. “You guys are all set with the twin thing, but you have no idea how to deal with an older brother.” He shook his head, "Mekt was *jealous,* Garth. *You* had the twin. *You* were the 'normal one.' *You* were the one that got accepted into piloting school."
“It’s not just Mekt. It’s everyone. Imra took all sorts of molecular science and neural psychology classes. She talks about that stuff and I’m just lost.” He points at the pad depicting the Talokkian soiree, “And here. You’re all like, ‘sulphur dioxide’ and, ‘he’s Venusian, they breath methane and oxygen kills them’ and I’m like, ‘hey, dude has a bowl over his head!’”
“Garth, I don’t even know where to start. Braal is a mining world. Sulphur dioxide is a common industrial smell. And it’s also a commerce hub, and sentients from all over the sector come for the magno-ball play-offs. I’ve met Venusians before. I had to sit through an excruciating dinner with the head of the Venusian Gas-Mines, smiling the whole time as the poster-boy for the Blacksteel Cartel.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I know *some* stuff. You know *other* stuff.” Rokk punctuated his statement by tapping Garth in the forehead with his own pad. “Like that the Talokkian Embassy had spectrum-enhanced surveillance of the event. *I* didn’t think of that…”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I can keep up. Especially with Imra being so… so…”
“Cerebral?”
“Yeah.”
Rokk steepled his hands in front of his face, drawing up his nerve. “Garth, if you ever mention this, I’m going to deny it.” Garth looked alarmed, but Rokk steam-rollered on before he lost his nerve. “It *kills* me to say this, but I had a month to impress Imra before we hit Winath to re-supply. So there I am, a good-looking, witty, charming *sports-star,* well-versed in interacting with sentients of all sorts. Since I was fourteen, I’ve had anyone I wanted and she chooses *you.* She’s Titanian, Garth. She didn’t choose you for your arms or that floppy mess you call hair. She chose you because *you’re smarter than I am.* She knows it. I know it, and the only ‘stupid’ thing I’ve seen about you is that *you* haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I..”
“Don’t. I’m never saying this again. Just don’t.” Rokk turned and flew out the door, leaving Garth standing in Rokk’s room, head spinning with notions that refused to take purchase.
Garth sat down heavily on Rokk’s hammock. “Wow.” The hammock promptly overbalanced and he flew backwards onto the floor with a heavy crash. “Oof!” Looking up from the floor at his legs, still hanging off of the hammock, he lay there, sides shaking as he laughed silently, still spun by his friends words, “Yeah, I’m a real genius…”
Rokk was sitting atop the Embassy, checking the pad and getting alternate angles. Each of the Kathooni security agents wore their armor in a slightly different style, and his target wore silvery torso-plate that resembled a one-piece swimsuit, covering her from crotch to neck, while leaving her arms, legs and head bare. She had a similar plate of steel on her left thigh, and another on her right calf. Her arms were similarly mismatched, with a bulky pauldron on her left shoulder and an ornate bracer, almost big enough to call a shield, on her right forearm. Underneath, a skintight black bodysuit covered the rest of her skin, although her milky-skinned fingers and toes were exposed, and her strong-jawed face. Her hair was a tower of black, held in place by far too many shiny silver pins.
Checking the other members of the delegation, he confirmed that each had a different style of body armor, and he was positive that he could recognize this one, even in the dark, based on the positioning of the metal covering her body.
He then looked up Kathooni courtship rituals. No reason, just bored, he managed to convince the tiny protesting voice that said, ‘what the sprock are you doing?’
The Kathooni mission was located in bowels of an administrative building, as the Kathooni had no Embassy of their own. Rokk stood in front of the entrance, wondering what the hell he was doing here. He was just looking at the pictures. And then he was just figuring out if he could recognize her. And then he was looking up how to say ‘take off your clothes’ in Kathooni. It was all perfectly harmless, and it was a train-wreck that would only stop if he turned around right now.
The door opened in front of him, and the chamber before him was pitch-black. So much for leaving before they notice, he thought wryly as an irresistibly strong arm reached out of the darkness and pulled him into the darkened room.
In the dark, he could feel a half-dozen metal-armored figures moving towards him and a deep voice sounded next to his ear, making him jump, “Jath, it is the purple-eyed one. His garb speaks of his mating status.”
‘Mating status?’ He finally managed to resolve the metal signatures, just in time to recognize that the woman in question was now directly in front of him. “Your eyes burn with lust,” came the husky voice and suddenly he felt the mail-mesh of his shirt bunch up as the woman grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward.
“Uh, hi, I was just passing by,” Rokk began lamely as he stumbled to regain his balance, wondering where he had lost control of this encounter, and then remembering that he’d never actually *had* control to lose.
“I will take you now,” the voice said matter-of-factly, and suddenly everything was spinning. By the time he got his bearing, Rokk realized that he had been hauled over the woman’s shoulder and she was carting him off like… well, like they carted off Mekt, come to think of it. And, oh yeah, her hand was on his ass again.
“Actually, I was thinking we could have something to eat, get to know each other…” Rokk protested in a voice that sounded far too high-pitched for his comfort and suddenly everything was spinning, and if not for her hand on his chest, he would have fallen over when she set him back on his feet, apparently in another room entirely.
“Oh hey, we haven’t even been introduced, I’m…” Rokk began, only to be stopped by the presence of strong fingers clamped over his mouth.
“No names. You have not yet earned my name.” the voice commanded, and with a sure confidence pried open the fastenings on the front of his Champion’s Garb. “Your armor will not serve you in this battle.”
“I…” Rokk managed to get out before she had peeled him like a banyo fruit, and he noticed that the room was just a bit chilly all of a sudden. The hand began relentlessly pushing him backwards and Rokk had just about had enough of this. Using his magnetic powers, he anchored himself to the floor and stood his ground, and heard her grunt lightly as she pushed harder against his chest. “Neither will yours,” he snapped, and with a series of pinging noises unfastened all of the snaps on the Kathooni woman’s armor as well. He felt a slight breeze and heard a loud clang as the woman pulled her now unfastened breastplate free and flung it across the room. Suddenly, despite his best attempts, he was flying through the air as she re-doubled her push, and his unscheduled flight ended in a massive pile of pillows piled in a corner. ‘Satin, I think,’ he managed to ascertain before the woman was on him like a tidal wave, pulling him under. The last sounds that he could identify as words sounded like, “Impertinent male! Learn your place!”
The waterfall was roaring past him, no, *through* him, and his body was shuddering with its’ passage. It seemed like it had been going on forever, and only now was he being born to consciousness from a place of warm soft darkness. He finally realized that it wasn’t a waterfall at all, it was his heartbeat, pounding so fast that it was like a piston engine, one continuous low thrum, the individual beats no longer recognizable as distinct events.
Slowly he felt the world spin into being around him, and Great Smithy, his body felt like it had been subjected to some sort of medieval torture! He was sprawled across the scattered pillows, and dimly became aware of voices in the darkness.
“It yet lives. I owe you two crystal moons and a blade of steel.”
“I would not have killed the male. Venegar would demand recompense.”
“I but jest, the wager was of the hours until the male recovered consciousness. His fortitude is unnatural for one of the lesser races. I desire him now.”
Rokk felt as well as heard a blade of steel slide from a leather sheath and a voice he recognized, as if from strange dream, said, “I announce claim.”
He felt metal-clad bodies shifting position and belatedly realized that he was lying naked in front of a bunch of people who could see in the dark. For some reason this seemed far more important than any impending knife-fight, but his feeble attempts to pull a pillow over himself were foiled by his arms, which trembled as if he had been pounded into jelly, shaken vigorously and then poured back into his skin.
“Stand down. I would not draw steel over an out-worlder, no matter his exotic skills.”
‘Exotic skills?’ Rokk thought? ‘Lady, I spent the last hour and a half *fighting for my life!* That wasn’t ‘skill,’ that was desperation…’ Clearly these Kathooni didn’t appreciate how strong they were.
“I leave you,” a voice announced matter-of-factly and the others left the room, and Rokk was again alone with his tormentor.
He had just managed to lean forward, ever so slightly, to discover that yet indeed, *everything* hurt, and not for the first time he cursed the fact that a man with no nervous system could still know pain.
“Drink this, you must replenish your fluids,” the voice ordered, and a cup the size of a serving bowl was thrust into his chest. He managed to grab it before too much of the hot fluid spilled onto his chest, and the smell was somewhat like Earth coffee, the beverage of choice to the Braalian working class. He sipped the rich liquid, and felt a pleasant burn travel down his throat and into his stomach, which, predictably, immediately cramped up at the intrusion. Still, a pleasant lassitude followed, and the pain faded away. “What is this stuff?” Rokk managed to say, shocked to realize that he had drained the entire bowl.
“You would call it an ‘energy drink.’ It is used after battle to soothe the nerves, and runners use it to carry messages from clan to clan, so that they may travel over many days without rest.”
‘Yikes,’ thought Rokk, not liking the sound of ‘many days without rest’ as related to his current position. “Actually, it’s making me a little sleepy.”
“I am not versed in your physiology. Perhaps it is poison to your kind.”
‘Well, *that’s* reassuring.’
“Would you like more?”
‘Why the hell not.’ “Please.”
As he sipped at the second cup, he could feel that the woman was crouching in front of him, no doubt seeing him clear as day even in the darkness, while he was only dimly aware of her location because of the heavy metallic residues in the cosmetics decorating her nails, skin and hair.
“I’m not clear on your customs. Should I tell you my name now?”
“Names are sacred things. If you give me your name, I will gain power over you.”
'Yeah, like I'm so on top of the situation, now...' Rokk thought sarcastically, “You could just look it up…”
“I already know what your people call you, Rokk Krinn, Champion of Venegar. But you have not *given me* your name. Do not do this, if you do not mean it.” The woman shifted before him, and he could feel the brush of her hair, which had come unfastened and was now hanging ankle-length about her like a cloak. “Would you know me?” she asked, and her voice for the first time was soft, uncertain. “Yes.” Rokk said, without hesitation, reaching out to take her hand firmly.
“My Clan is Jath,” she said with some firmness, and then leaned forward to almost whisper, “My name is Lydda, and I give it to you.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the drink, but Rokk felt his world shift around him, and understood. He leaned forward and said softly, for her ears alone, “My Clan is Krinn. My name is Rokk.”
She breathed into his ear again and somehow made his name sound like sex, “Rokk.” She leaned back slightly, “But this is not the name by which I shall know you. I shall make for you a name that none but we shall speak, when we are like this,” her hand dropped possessively to rest below his stomach, and Rokk winced with the reminder that his next date was with a regen-pack.
Her face hovered before his, and he could just make out the reflection of her silvery eye-makeup in the purple light of his eyes. “You are Thall.”
Trying desperately to remember any words in Karthooni, “Plaything?”
“Ha! No, that is Thole, and yes, you are that as well. Thall is the name of the comet that passes our world every seventh year. It ignites great storms of light that flicker like fires in the upper sky, and the ground below is bathed in purple light. Predatory beasts stalk the harsh light, taking advantage of our discomfort, and the males cower in fear. We take them into dark places and hide from the violet fire in the sky. We comfort them through this time.”
“My eyes. You said they burn with lust…”
“Yes. Your eyes call to our brightest fears. But I am a warrior. I have stared into my fear, and found there a mate.”
Her hand began to move again slowly on his stomach, as if tracing patterns only she could see. Rokk was surprised to feel his body responding to her touch. He reached out for her hand, “Lydda,” he said, saying her name very softly, “I can’t do this again. Not yet.”
“Release your fears, little male. I will not break you. Our time of battle is done. Now it is the time of peace,” she relaxed next to him and softly stroked his face.
“Uh, I’m not sure about Kathooni males, but the rest of us don’t like the phrase, ‘little male.’” Rokk noted. ‘Especially when we are naked,’ he added silently.
“It is a term of affection only, Thall. For the challenge at hand, your anatomy is…” she cast a measuring glance. “sufficient.”
‘Ouch.’ Thought Rokk. ‘Oh yeah, that’s *much* better. Note to self; Kathooni pillow-talk to be avoided at all costs…’
Rokk limped into the Embassy quietly, attempting to stick to little-used corridors, but resigned himself to his fate as he turned around a corner to find himself face to face with Imra and the Queen.
The Queen looked up with a distracted expression and not a trace of emotion passed her face as she looked him up and down. “I trust the other person looks worse for wear?”
<Garth! Bring the regen-pack! Rokk, what happened…>, Imra said, eyes wide with concern.
Drawing a breath, Rokk decided to get it over with fast, “Yeah, it’s a funny story. I got married.”
<WHAT!?!>
He heard a crash as Garth came around the corner and dropped the regen-pack in the middle of the hall. “WHAT!”
Rokk just closed his eyes and hung his head as the Queen of Venegar began laughing.
[ March 07, 2007, 03:03 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Cobalt Kid on :
Regal and confident, Powerful and strong, Sarya of Venegar felt so right when so wrong
A foe worthy of the Legion, though in the end she did die, for Sarya overestimated herself, and underestimated the Eye
Despite this failing, which one must surely address, You cannot speak of great Legion foes, Without mentioning the Emerald Empress
Posted by dedman on :
Some older Green things from me...I'm working on something new
Posted by dedman on :
Posted by dedman on :
Emerald Empress Posted by dedman on :
Posted by dedman on :
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter ten “That which does not kill us, generally hurts.” – In which Rokk and Lydda redefine marital bliss
Lydda awoke to find herself alone, and Kand in her doorway, laughing roughly.
“Your pet outworlder has fled already, Jath. You offer him your name, and he takes it and runs like a mongrel with a scrap of meat.”
Lydda rose with a scowl and began seeking out her armor.
“Shall I help you prepare for the hunt?” Kand offered teasingly, shrinking back as Lydda hurled a blade into the wall next to her head.
“Leave. Or fight. But do it now.” Lydda growled, satisfied to see Kand’s eyes narrow and her back as she turned away.
Lydda prowled out into the common area to the sounds of her fellow warriors coarsely discussing the events of the night before, and Kand shot her a venomous glare of superiority. Brushing past her roughly, she reached the outer doors and hesitated for a moment.
“It is day, warrior. Death rides high in the sky.” Kand began, tauntingly, only to gasp along with the others as Lydda slammed the door override and opened up the portal. “Jath! No outworlder is worth this! I take back my words, do not risk this for that male!”
Lydda squinted at the glare of the dimly lit hallway and moved into the hallway, slamming the portal shut behind her and moving further into the soul-searing light of the Metropolitan day. She could hear her fellow warriors at the end of the hall calling, “Jath! Do not do this thing!” but she walked right out of the building into the full rays of the devil-sun, staggering to her knees under its’ merciless intensity. She felt her long hair streaming behind her in wild disarray, and knew that she was unfit to be seen, even by outworlders in such a state, her armor mismatched and her hair un-groomed, but she would die before she let this male escape with her pride.
She could only open her eyes the tiniest fraction at a time, and only for an instant, and then would stagger a distance before having to peek again. No matter how thinly she cracked her eyes, no matter how she shaded her gaze with her hands, there was always something bright and reflective within her sight to seemingly throw the fires straight into her fevered mind. She stumbled on, desperately trying to retrace her steps to the Venegarian Embassy, but unable to recognize any of the landmarks of the night among these bright buildings and milling outworlders.
A hand fell upon her arm and she whirled around to strike, but the deadly rays of Earth’s sun had poisoned her strength so that she could not even dislodge the outworlder’s frail grasp. “Oh, hey, are you okay lady, you look sick. I can take you to Met General…”
“I need to get to the Venegarian Embassy.” Lydda gasped.
“If it’s atmo poisoning, you need to get whatever mix your people breathe…,” the outworlder began, and seemed to be leading her towards one of the outworlders flying carriages.
“It is not. I breathe oxy/nitro. It is this cursed radiation. The Embassy,” Lydda insisted, feeling a tiny scrap of pride boil away as she added, “*Please.*”
“Okay, okay. Just sit here,” the elderly male said, and she felt a seat beneath her and felt a hatch closing against her side. Another hatch opened to her left and the vehicle shifted with the addition of new weight. “Clear for take-off,” the voice added, laughing and then the vehicle lurched forward. Lydda attempted to open her eyes ever so slightly, but the elderly man was wearing white pants, and she was immediately blinded by reflected glare. He could be taking her anywhere, and she was not strong enough to even fight an old human male in this light.
The vehicle stopped and the voice returned, “Okay, here’s Venegar. Boy, she’s got a thing for green, I guess.” Lydda was already prying at the hatch, but it opened before she found the fastening. “Okay, last stop, all ashore who’s going ashore.” The old man cackled, apparently having succeeded in amusing only himself.
Taking his arm and leaning heavily on it to pull herself out of the low-slung seat, Lydda quickly pulled her arm free. “I am in your debt.” She quickly unsheathed a blade from her wrist-sheath and the man gasped and pulled away.
“Whoah, nelly!”
She stumbled forward and gripped the man, placing the blade into his hand. “It is a blade of steel. My payment to you.”
“Alrighty then, you have a real nice day.” The voice quavered, lowering in volume as he beat a hasty retreat.
Lydda leaned against the side of the Embassy, still cool in the mid-morning shade, and followed the wall around until she found the entrance, which, of course, was in the middle of the brightly lit sunward-side. She was all-but crawling by the time she made it through the front portal, and slid down the wall to the side, out of the sickening light and heat.
She rested for a moment, trying to determine whether or not she was gathering her strength or laying down to die when a heavy footfall came into range. “Hey!”, came a male voice, “are you hurt? I’ll call a medic…”
A large hand, like that of a beast, gripped her shoulder and she squinted to see a large outworlder, one of Venegar’s Champions. Abandoning any attempt at subtlety, she whispered, “I need darkness. Light is poison.”
“Right. Dark you want it, dark it will be.” The male said as he pulled her to her feet and led her into a side-chamber. She heard him turning off the sources of illumination, but light still shone into the room through the open doorway, not at all blocked by the gauzy translucent curtain. “Right.” The male said, stepping out of the room and turning off the lights in the hallway. “Is that better?” he asked, sounding inappropriately concerned for a woman not his own.
“Yes.” Realizing belatedly that she had only a single blade remaining, and might have need of it soon, Lydda pulled a silver ring off of her finger. “You have my gratitude,” she said, tossing him the ring. “If I might also have some water?”
“Uh, sure,” Garth said, placing the ring down on a shelf. “But water’s free. You don’t have to pay me for that…” He returned with a pitcher of water and a glass.
Lydda looked at the extraneous container and set it on the shelf, drinking directly from the pitcher until the roiling in her stomach settled.
”You’re that Kathooni security person, right?”
“I am Jath. I am seeking my mate.” Lydda added, leaning forward and seizing the male’s wrist.
“Oh, I’m taken. But thanks.” Garth said, trying to dislodge the woman’s grip, which seemed ridiculously strong for someone who couldn’t get up a minute ago.
“Your words are nonsense. Your mating status is plain to see,” Lydda said, irritated by the male’s attempts at deception.
“No, really,” Garth grunted, trying with all of his strength to budge a single one of this woman’s steely fingers. “Spoken for, most strenuously spoken for…”
She released his wrist suddenly and Garth fell back. Only the presence of a wall stopped him from ending up on the floor as the tall woman stepped right up to him and placed her hand on his chest.
“If you are spoken for, outworlder, why do you advertise your availability with this display?” her hand traced the white lightning bolt down his chest, onto his stomach and Garth involuntarily laughed as he stepped aside before her hand could trail lower. “Any can see where this line leads. Why draw attention to what you do not offer?”
“Cultural misunderstanding,” Garth babbled, still backing away. “That doesn’t mean anything to us, just, y’know, a lightning bolt. Which is me!” his hand crackled with a display of electrical energy, and Lydda recoiled from the sudden light.
“Sorry, light bad. I forgot…”
“Enough of this babbling about your ignorance. Summon Champion Krinn to me now, I have words for him.”
“He’s not here. Do you want to wait in his room?”
“Is there light between this place and that?”
“Well, yes, but I could turn them all off…” Garth began, “or, I’ll be right back!” and he dashed out of the room at a dead run.
Lydda stood, unsure of what to do next. The outworlders were all insane, and she had sold her honor cheaply to a male who respected nothing. She wanted to cry, but tears were for children, and so she stood, turmoil eating away at her.
The heavy footsteps of the male returned, clearly running and out of breath, and she placed a hand upon her last blade, in case of treachery.
Garth swung around the corner, only to get momentarily tangled up in the curtain. In his hand he had a device that Lydda could see no use for, but at least it did not resemble a weapon.
“Okay, this might work. What spectrum of light do you see in?” Garth said breathlessly and Lydda thought back to her lessons.
“Ultraviolet is our primary spectrum. We also see in what humans call the ‘visible spectrum,’ but our sensitivity is such that under any lighting conditions comfortable to your eyes, we are blinded.”
“UV. Great. I’ve got these old-style pilot’s goggles. They were a gift from dad, from when I finished pilot’s training.” The male babbled, pulling out a small container and spraying some foul-smelling substance onto the round glass portions of the device. “And this,” he said, shaking the container, “is the super-dark green spray paint that Sarya’s been using on every single damned thing she sets eyes on…”
He swirled the items through the air, and Lydda tensed, as she now recognized that the ‘goggles’ bore close resemblance to a throwing snare for catching flying prey. “Okay, it’s dry now. Just put them on.”
Lydda accepted the item in her hand, and closed her eyes, resignedly asking. “How.”
Garth reached around and attempted to fasten the goggles, only to be hurled back into the wall so hard that he spent the next minute catching his breath. “You will not dress me!” the woman shouted, dropping the goggles onto his lap. “Demonstrate.”
Garth picked up his goggles, ruined now with the lenses blacked out for this crazy bitch, and showed her how to put them on. “See. Like that.” He then pulled them off and flung them at her head.
Lydda snatched the ‘goggles’ out of the air, puzzled at the male’s attitude, but resigned to the fact that she would never understand their outworlder madness. She put the goggles on and the room was blessedly dark. She peered out into the hallway and she barely had to squint, even looking out into the more brightly lit areas.
“This is acceptable.”
“So glad you sprocking approve. Rokk’s room is this way.” Garth said, pushing past her in a manner that had Lydda reaching again for her blade, before realizing that this male *claimed* that he was the property of another, and she had no idea as to his bid price. It would not be acceptable to damage him when she did not know if she could repay whatever value his mate placed upon him.
They reached another chamber, the same size as the others, with a strange net against one wall.
“This is Champion Krinn’s chambers?” Lydda exclaimed in disbelief.
“Yes.” Garth muttered in his best surly tone, arms crossed as he stood in the doorway.
“It should be larger than the other rooms. I misjudged his status.” She complained. “Where are his sleeping quarters?” she said, looking around.
“He sleeps on the hammock.” Garth ground out, each word sounding like it had been dragged kicking and screaming from his mouth.
“Hammock?”
Garth just nodded his head and Lydda stared again. “Wrapped up in ropes, like a snared beast? Hanging above the ground?” Lydda shook her head again. This was the least of the madness. She crossed to the room controls, next to Garth, who moved slightly away as she approached, and turned off the lights in the room. Still light poured in from the hallway, and Lydda extended her hand towards the container he still held in his hand.
Garth tossed it to her and walked away as Lydda began spray-painting the flimsy curtain with a thick coat of dark green.
<<Imra! You *have* to meet the missus…>> Garth broadcast through the Ring, dripping sarcasm as thick as paint.
With a forced smile on her face, Imra stepped out of Rokk’s room, to see Garth leaning against the wall in the hallway, rubbing his chest, where a bruise was already forming, and sporting a clipped smile to match her own.
<<I think you’ve covered her better qualities, yeah.>> Garth added as he wrapped his arm over Imra’s shoulder and they walked down the corridor away from their new guest.
Rokk awkwardly sashayed through the doorway, a large package of puffed pasty stuffed with cream cheese and crab meat in his hand, and he idly munched one of the freshly-made appetizers, savoring their steaming warmth as much as the sweet blend of flavors. Humming to himself, he continued to (badly) dance his way down the corridor to Imra’s quarters, where his Ring had already informed him his two fellow Champion’s were in residence. Knocking on the doorframe he could see that the two were clothed and sitting upright, so he leaned his head in and juggled the package of treats only to frown as the two wordlessly pointed in unison towards his room, wearing matching dour expressions.
‘Alrighty, then. Must be a lover’s quarrel thing going on. Best leave them to it.’ He gave up on the sad attempt at dancing-while-walking-while-eating, recognizing that he was already doing two more things than he could get away with, and just walked to his room, only to slow as he saw the green paint dripping from his lank, sodden curtain…
Gingerly pushing it aside, he looked into the very dark room, and immediately sensed a familiar armored presence.
Succulent cheesy crab-puffs exploded across the room as Lydda back-handed the offending offering away and shoved Rokk against the wall, with a blade to his throat.
“Okay, I’m trying to cut back, too…”, Rokk stammered, acutely aware of the press of cold steel against the suddenly hammering pulse in his throat.
“Do you wish to dissolve this mating contract, Champion Krinn?” Lydda growled right in his face. Rokk was momentarily distracted by the sight of ancient earth aviator’s goggles in the middle of her face, which also put them right in the middle of his face, and he could see that someone had painted the goggles dark green. ‘That whacky Sarya. Someone needs to take her paint-cans away,’ his brain offered by way of useless commentary.
“What? No, look Lydda, I don’t…” and then his face went numb with the force of her blow, and he was pretty sure that his jaw wasn’t really in the exact place it was meant to be. Sure enough, it clicked when he pushed it back into place, and *then* it really started hurting.
“You do not call me that name. Not until this dispute is done.”
Rokk stood up slowly, arms raised and palms forward in his best ‘I surrender, don’t kill me’ stance. “Look, Jath, I don’t know why you are angry. Please tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
“*What* you’ve done wrong?” Lydda said, knife slashing the air as she made her point, “*Everything* you’ve done wrong!” her hair whipped around wildly and she laughed hysterically. “Look at my hair!”
Rokk didn’t even know where to start. “Could you make me a list? We can start with the hair…”
“We had an agreement. We were to be mated. *I gave you my name!* And you, you, aaaa!” she turned around and ripped his hammock from the wall, “And you sleep in a fishing net! Like prey!” she flung the hammock to the ground and sat down on the floor, her hands over her face.
Torn between backing away and hopping the first shuttle back to Braal or comforting the sobbing woman, Rokk, as always, took the more dangerous route and knelt down in front of Lydda, carefully avoiding the side with the knife, and ran his fingers through her long hair, trying to unsnarl the tangles that had formed while she slept.
“Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do here. I should know, but I don’t. I know it’s my fault.”
Lydda regained her composure with effort and looked up, her silver eye-makeup glistening as it streaked down her face. “We are mated. It is *my* place to give you shelter,” she looked around at his room. “It is *my* task to return from the hunt with food, and to feed you,” she batted at an offending crab-puff. “It is *your* role to be there when I wake, to groom my hair and prepare me for the day’s battle. It is your task to bathe me and place my armor upon me. And when I return, you are to take the weight of my armor from me and cleanse my wounds.”
“I wake, and you are gone. You take my name and leave like a thief in the day. I must walk through fire and pain and death to find you. I must take charity from offensively-dressed and deceitful outworlders who mock our ways. I must wait for you in a shelter that I have not given you, and you come to me bearing food that I have not provided for you. Have I nothing to offer you?”
“Oh, Lydda, I had no idea,” Rokk ran his hands through her silky hair. He reached out with his magnetic powers and turned on the faucets to the bath in the next room. “I will bathe you, my big, strong, kinda scary warrior-woman. And then,” he added, handing her a crab-puff from the floor, “You can feed me.”
He rose slowly to his feet, pulling her up with him. “We’ll get this right.” She smiled slightly, and they crossed into the bathroom.
“You would use a week’s water ration to apologize to me?” Lydda said, her eyes wide at the sight of the filling tub.
“Uh…” Rokk began, but was cut off as Lydda pushed him into the wall.
“We must fight more often, my extravagant Thall.”
[ March 07, 2007, 03:06 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
This story continues to write itself in my head.
Vote now!
1) Should I be starting a seperate thread for it? 2) Should it remain here? 3) Should I be sticking my finger in a light-socket until the voices go away?
Garth, Imra and Rokk have gone slightly sideways, but Lydda has just most suprised me. I didn't plan to include her at all, and suddenly she's moving in! I thought *I* was writing this?
Posted by Cobalt Kid on :
I vote it should remain here Set. I think its awesome and I love how you've gotten into this exhibit!
And the photomanips, City of Heroes designs and artwork are kick-ass all around!
[ March 07, 2007, 11:20 AM: Message edited by: Cobalt Kid ]
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
I vote to keep it here, too. I have to admit that I've gotten behind in reading it, so I need to play catch-up, but it belongs here.
Posted by Set on :
'Kay, keeping it here then. I was just worried about cluttering up the thread with my long-winded narrative that shows no sign of slowing down. Thanks for the votes of confidence!
And so, chapter, uh, eleven? The talky-talk is boring me, so next chaper will have more fighty-fight, I think.
Canonically, Lydda Jath has super-strength only at night, thanks to an experiment performed by her scientist father. But I find that insanely boring, so my Lydda Jath and my Kathoon will have *no* relationship to that, although I kept the big hair, 'cause I like the big hair...
Rokk had spent the better part of the afternoon learning how to get Lydda’s hair just right, piling the many kilos of night-black hair into a towering mass that could likely repel blaster-fire.
“So, you’ve never considered doing a sort of page-boy thing?” Rokk mumbled around the mouthful of silver pins he was storing in his mouth while his hands worked frantically to stave off a structural failure to the port-side that threatened to set him back to square one, “Crew-cuts are *very* military, and, and, very liberating! I think you’d look very professional, very warrior-y, with a high-and-tight…”
Lydda just smiled, enjoying the touch of her lover’s hands as he worked, “A warrior does not cut her hair. It invites possession by evil spirits, silly man.”
Patiently, Lydda lifted a hand to ward off disaster. “Twist,” she demonstrated, torqueing the queue with such tension that Rokk thought she was going to rip her scalp clean off, “Fold,” she curled the thick braid to that it settled around on itself, “Hold,” she secured it in place with a single finger, “Pin.” She waited for him to produce a silver pin and lock the final piece of the intricate arrangement into place.
“Whoah.” Rokk stepped back. “I think it’s gonna hold this time,” he said in a weak but hopeful tone, having said this the three previous times he’d *thought* he’d gotten it right.
Lydda gracefully rose from her seat and leaned slowly back, so that her towering coiffure was a horizontal bar of black, and yet it held. Rokk’s lip quivered. If it collapsed this time, he was going to be the one sitting down in the middle of the floor and crying…
Lydda’s body suddenly twisted and she flipped effortlessly across the room in an acrobatic display that had less to do with agility and more to do with raw power. Rokk winced as he realized that he would have torn every muscle in his body if his body every twisted like that, but as she landed, he noticed that, most importantly, her hair remained intact.
She crossed the room and took Rokk’s hands in her own larger, calloused ones. “My outworlder Thall. The males of my world train for years braiding each others hair, so that one day they will be able to please their mates. I treasure your soft, clever hands.”
Rokk idly wondered what the Kathooni word for ‘emasculate’ was, but found himself distracted by the energetic kissing that then followed.
“And now, I shall show you how to decorate my skin.” Lydda said brightly, mistaking Rokk’s groan of frustration for enthusiasm.
<<Champion Krinn.>> came the Queen’s voice through his Ring. <<Ambassador Marin commands your attendance. You will follow her directions, without fail.>> and with that, the communication ended.
“Crap.” Rokk said and Lydda, who was busy explaining to him that all of her cosmetics must be laced with silver, and no other metal, to avoid offense to Clan, looked up concerned.
“Your Queen commands your attentions?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“The ring on your hand shone with green fire, and your eyes became distant. You were hearing a witch-voice in your mind. I know the signs.” Lydda explained.
“I’m not done with your makeup, ‘though…” Rokk said, not sure if Kathooni tradition had any protocol for males with jobs…
“Nonsense. Allegiance to Clan always comes first. Venegar is your Clan. Attend to Clan. I will return to my own duties, and you will come to *my* quarters when your own duties are done.”
“I’m not sure if that is the best idea…” Rokk started before Lydda placed a hand on his chest.
“But. You will *not* leave my sight wearing *that.*” she pointed at his Champion’s Garb.
“What do you…” Rokk began as Lydda snatched the half-empty container of spray-paint from the shelf and walked towards him, shaking the can purposefully.
“It’s an aerated dye-mixture, you don’t need to shake it…” Rokk said, lifting his arms and resigning himself to whatever sort of mark she was going to make upon him. He’d already spent three years of his life sporting Blacksteel Cartel corporate branding on his stomach, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being a walking billboard. She carefully sprayed the lighter colored panel of forest green covering his stomach and crotch, so that it matched the darker panels on his shoulders, sides and outer limbs, and then spun him around and did the same to his backside. The forest green panels on his inner forearms and thighs apparently got to remain.
“Now all will see that your manhood is claimed by another.”
“Great.” Rokk thought sourly. ‘And if it soaks through and dyes my skin, it should only be a month or so before it wears off…’
Lydda had ripped down the paint-darkened curtain that served as Rokk’s ‘door,’ and had flung it over herself to block the sun’s rays as she dashed to the vehicle that Rokk had summoned. He closed the door behind her and got in beside her, surprised to note that even this brief exposure had left her exposed hands warm to the touch, as if her body had somehow absorbed the light striking her body.
“Quadplex central six. And can you make sure we come in from the east side?” Rokk requested and the cab-bot blinked its ascent as the vehicle smoothly pivoted in place and leapt into the traffic lanes.
“I am concerned that the Ambassador wishes to speak with you. What if she disapproves of our mating agreement? I am her vassal, she could dissolve the contract…” Lydda fretted, while Rokk attempted to allay her fears.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, hon. Maybe she just wants to meet me, or give me her blessing?” even *he* couldn’t believe that, unless ‘her blessing’ involved jumping through hoops of burning plasma or defeating a clawed tusk-horn with a pointed stick. His limited understanding of Karthooni culture suggested that, ‘challenge-to-the-death to prove worthiness’ was more up these people’s alley than, ‘welcome to the family, sit down and pretend that you’re interested in my father’s boring stories!’
Arriving at their destination, Rokk made sure that Lydda was under her impromptu sun-shade and then opened the door and they dashed into the building, protected by the afternoon shade.
Moving down the hall, Lydda made a noise of disapproval as they reached the Kathooni delegate’s quarters, and moved to the other side of the hall and stuck her blade into the light-fixture. It sputtered and died. “Our enemies seek to restrict our movements,” she explained matter-of-factly, and Rokk smiled as he felt an EM signal go out to the building’s repair droid.
“Those bastards. That’ll show them.” Rokk said agreeably as the portal cycled open and they stepped into darkness.
“Jath! You yet live!”
“I told you that she would drag the male back for punishment,” another voice smugly affirmed.
“And you thought the outworlder sun would be the death of her. I will have my crystal now,” another said in the back of the room.
Rokk could feel the presence of armored figures moving in the darkness, and after learning about cosmetics from Lydda, could feel the iron-laced facial-markings of a Sangti, and the traces of gold decorating the nails of the Auri. He didn’t know their names, but he could feel their Clans, based on the elements they used as decoration.
“Your hair is acceptable. Surely the male did not…”
Lydda’s voice cut through the chatter. “He is an outworlder. Outworlder males have clever hands.” Lydda punctuated her statement by taking Rokk’s hand in her own and leading him through the darkened room to another chamber, and as the portal closed, leaving the other warriors behind him, Lydda whispered. “The Ambassador holds our fate in her hands. Do not babble.”
Rokk became aware of the Ambassador, or, at least, of a figure draped in copper ornaments, but wearing no steel armor. ‘Clan Cupri,’ he remembered from his crash course.
“Jath. You will rest.” a surprisingly feminine voice declared.
Rokk felt Lydda stiffen, and her hand left his and he felt them cross across her chest as she knelt on the floor.
“Ly… Jath?” he whispered, touching her shoulder, but got no response.
“She but sleeps. My words are for you alone, outworlder.” the voice stated flatly, and he could hear the jingling of copper trinkets as the figure adjusted herself in her seat.
“You are outworlder, and Jath has made a hasty decision, as is typical for a warrior.” Rokk was attempting to come up with a retort to that, but the voice continued on, “I have no doubt that there have already been many miscommunications between the pair of you, because of her rash choice, and I will give you the choice now to walk away from this thing with no shame upon your Clan. I will inform Jath that I forbade this thing on grounds of tradition, and she will grow angry with me, but accept my authority. You will not speak to her again.”
“No wait a minute, you can’t do this…” Rokk said, bristling at the thought of being ordered away.
“I most certainly can. I see that I must educate you. Firstly, I am mortal, like you, and at times, I must draw breath to continue speaking. You are not to mistake these pauses in my words as an invitation for you to fill the air with your own chatter. I am a Seer. I bear the knowledge and wisdom of my people, and have no need to hear whatever thoughts burn behind your devil-eyes.”
As Rokk bit his tongue and did not interrupt her again, she continued, “Since we were children, Jath has been a warrior in spirit, if not in truth. One time, a building caught fire, and while true Warriors stood paralyzed with fright at the sight of the blinding fires, Jath rushed in and pulled another child out of the flames. When the Clans were forced to rally forces against the Great Beast, Jath was the one who insisted on playing the role of bait, to lure it into our blades, and hers was the first to draw blood. Ever she has seen the thing she fears, and rushed towards it instead of away. Were she a Seer, she would be deemed a fool. Were she Commonfolk, she would be called mad. But she is a Warrior, and so her nature is called bravery, and it is her gift to us all. And so it came as no surprise when she came of Age, and walked into the caves to seek out the gods’ challenge. Less than one in a hundred women of Kathoon choose to enter the caves, and of those, only one in four pass the challenges, and return with sanity, health or life intact. Upon passing the challenges set down by our ancestors, we are offered a choosing. A few choose to seek the wisdom of the past, and become Seers, as did I. The greater portion recognize, as Jath did, that their nature is that of the Warrior, and so the ancestors forge a pact with them, and lend the strength of a thousand Warriors past to their limbs.”
Rokk felt his eyebrows raise. He’d known that Lydda was strong, stronger than anyone he’d met, but this sounded impossible!
“And now, it should come as no surprise to me that she took one look at the death shining from your face and has, once again, rushed towards her fears, blades flashing.”
“I don’t think it’s just that…” Rokk began, only to be cut off quickly.
“I can not state with enough force how little I care for your thoughts. The wisdom of a hundred lifetimes whispers within my soul, and you are but an outworlder child. I see past the horror of your eyes, to that which burns within you. I see that you are unsure of your place in the world, are unsure of your feelings for Jath and that you protest me out of stubborn pride. You have not felt the sting of love in your breast, and your alien body burns with forces that have burned away much of what made you mortal. I can see you as you are, Rokk Krinn, Champion of Venegar. You are no more Braalian than I, and as your flesh fails, your will grows stronger. You are of flesh, but also of energy, and I see you as a hint of the future of us all, a thousand, thousand years hence, when the many children of Earth fly the stars on wings of spirit, and the way of flesh has long since fled the universe.”
Rokk shook his head at her words, a soundless denial frozen on his lips.
“Do not deny my words, child. You do not know me. You do not even know yourself. How can you know Jath? She is a Warrior. A thousand passions burn in her blood, and she has devoted her life to containing these feelings, to tap their ancient strength in defense of her people. It is a lonely life, the Warrior’s way, and for many generations, Clans found themselves looking the other way when the mates of Warriors were found maimed or slain by the terrible rages that burn in a Warrior soul. They hauled their broken bodies away, and selected new mates, rationalizing it as a necessary sacrifice to have the power of a Warrior standing at their side, all too unwilling to recognize the terrible cost taken by the Warriors themselves, ever to see the things they love destroyed at their own hands.”
“Are you still so sure that you would know Jath? Will you love her, even as she rages? Will your magnetic sorcery serve to defend you from her blows? Has she chosen more wisely than even I can foresee?”
Rokk had focused his awareness on Lydda, still crouched and motionless, like a statue, as he considered the Ambassadors words. For the first time ever, Lydda seemed small and fragile, all folded up and awaiting a fate that she could not contest.
He made his decision and stepped up to Ambassador Marin, stopping only when he could see the reflection of his eyes in the copper triangles descending from her ears, feeling a thrill as he heard her hiss and pull back from his approach. “I am Rokk Krinn, and I *never* lose. I will never give up on Jath. And *nothing* will stop me from being with her as long as *she* wants to be with me.”
He felt the Ambassadors many-ringed hand on his chest, but her touch was light as she pushed him back down a step.
“A Warrior choosing another Warrior. It is without precedent.” her voice softened. “I will not forbid it.” Rokk could feel her adjust again in her seat, regaining her composure as he stepped back. “Jath. Arise, but remain silent.”
Lydda got to her feet smoothly and moved to stand beside Rokk, and he reached out in the darkness to take hold of her hand, which was clenching and unclenching nervously. He massaged the back of her hand, attempting to convey silent reassurance. He felt the circuits of a datapad hum into life in the Ambassador’s hand, and, in a business-like tone, she said, “Venegar.” A few moments later he heard Queen Sarya’s voice, “Ambassador Marin. Always a pleasure.”
“As well. I seek to purchase quarters in your Embassy. As you know, Kathoon has no Embassy as of yet, and it is displeasingly crowded in these quarters.”
The Queen’s voice sounded amused, “I have a room in mind. For payment, I would ask for service of one of those delightful Warriors that serve you. I find them most impressive. The one named Jath, perhaps?”
Rokk felt the world spinning around him as he realized that the Queen had yet again outmaneuvered him.
“This is agreeable.” Marin acceded. “If Jath were to reside in the quarters you have selected, it would leave more room for my business here. It is an auspicious arrangement. I will order it so. Good hunting, Venegar.” and the communication ended.
Rokk could feel Lydda’s hand tighten uncomfortably as she absorbed the implications of this exchange.
“Jath. You are now on detached assignment. Until I say otherwise, you will follow the commands of Sarya of Venegar as if they were my own. Do not bring shame to our people, or to your Clan, by giving her reason to regret her choice. I have also secured quarters for you…,” and she paused and he heard copper trinkets jingle as she set down her datapad. “And your mate.”
“Ready your things, the detachment begins immediately. Dismissed.”
Rokk was still blinking at the suddenness of the exchange, and the Ambassador impatiently repeated. “Dismissed! That means you leave now.”
Lydda all-but dragged him to the doorway. The Ambassador’s voice came again, sounding amused this time, “Jath. Outworlder or no, remember that he is only male. They are as children. Do not grow frustrated if you have to tell him everything twice.”
Rokk’s jaw worked soundlessly, but the door opened and Lydda pulled him out of the room before he could come up with an appropriately scathing response. After the doors closed she squealed and leapt up into his arms, bringing them both crashing to the floor.
“Ow.” Rokk protested, but again was distracted by the enthusiastic kissing, until he felt the presence of other armored figures pressing around to watch and heard the exchange of crystals as they wagered on how long he would remain conscious this time…
Lydda tore through the chambers, wrapping up blades and armor and skin-suits and other strange items into a large square of cloth. Rokk had taken to waiting outside, as many of the things she was gathering contained no metal, and so were effectively invisible to him. He could feel the presence of an iron-clad Sangti hovering near him, but she seemed content simply to stand there, arms-crossed, radiating contempt.
“Jath has chosen poorly. You are small and weak.”
Another voice came from behind the sullen Warrior, and Rokk recognized the resonance of gold. “He is larger and stronger than the males of homeworld, Kand. You are just angry that Jath will not be here to arrange your hair.”
He could feel this ‘Kand,’ reaching for a blade, resting her arm on the sheath, and noticed that the gold-adorned Auri had done likewise. He backed away slightly, not wanting to get in the middle of a duel.
“See, he cringes from the threat of steel. Ha! He is no sorcerer. A male cannot be a Warrior, he offends us all by wearing metal above his station,” He could smell Kand’s breath as she advanced upon him and his eyes closed to slits as he sent a pulse of energy into Kand’s knife.
“Draw steel and find out, Sangti.” Rokk knew enough to know that referring to Kand by the name of her Clan was an insult, and sure enough he felt her strain to pull her blade. His eyes shone more brightly as he redoubled his magnetic pull on her blade, trying to hold it in the sheath against the monstrous force she was exerting. With an audible snap, the handle of the knife broke off, and Kand was left holding a chunk of ivory, the metal of her blade still securely within its’ sheath.
“Ha!” said the Auri, and then commented to the entire room tauntingly, “Kand has forgotten how to use a blade!”
Her hand shot forward in a blur, and Rokk thought she was going to pull his head directly from his body as she flung the knife-handle away with her other hand. He shot every ounce of magnetic force forward, using her armor to throw her away from him, while stabilizing himself with his Champion’s Ring. She flew across the room like a missile and clanged loudly against the wall, and yet he could feel her staggering unsteadily to her feet, growling incoherently.
Lydda came dashing into the room from behind Rokk, a blade in each hand, just as the portal to the Ambassador’s quarters whirred open.
“Cease!” came the Ambassador’s delicate voice and every Warrior kneeled in place. “Witness.” The Ambassador said sharply and each of Warrior women got to their feet. The hands of the other four Warriors in the room raised and pointed towards Kand. “Kand. Do you wish me to release you from service, so that you pursue blood-vengeance?”
Kand’s voice was made of strangled fury, “No Seer. I serve only you.”
“Then this is done,” and the Ambassador closed the portal with a clang.
Rokk couldn’t help but notice that the other four Warriors pointedly stood between Kand and them as they left, and was grateful for their silent support.
As the heavy door cycled open, the Warriors hissed and drew back as the light-fixture directly across the hall having already been repaired by building maintenance. Rokk stepped across and smashed it with his fist, satisfied when it sparked once and died. A localized EMpulse disabled the signaling device, so that the maintenance droid wouldn’t become aware of the damage for some time. As the doorway cycled shut he could hear the Auri and Ungste Warriors voices loudly proclaiming from the darkened room
Sarya made a show of welcoming Jath to her service, presenting her with a dark-green bodysuit to replace her previous black suit, and a set of jade-green tinted lenses that wrapped over her eyes, and replaced the paint-marked aviator’s goggles. Jath handed the goggles back to Garth, who accepted them with a passing attempt at good grace and then Sarya showed them to Jath’s quarters, which were half-again the size of Rokk’s room. Rokk was not surprised to note that his own belongings had been placed within Jath’s quarters while they were away, and shrugged his shoulders at the inevitability of it all.
“You honor me with these quarters, Highness.” Jath said, bowing her head to Sarya, who neatly sidestepped to avoid being struck in the face by the half-meter-high arrangement of hair.
“Ambassador Marin explained to me your requirements. I would not want to make you appear incapable of providing appropriate shelter for your mate,” the Queen said, with a grin towards Rokk before making her exit.
Lydda had finished examining the fixtures, and finally noticed the hammock, lying amidst Rokk’s possession. “I will get no rest tied up in that thing. We will sleep on cushions.”
Rokk examined the room and produced a pad, quickly sketching out his ideas. “We can compromise. You like to sleep on something soft, I like to sleep up above the ground.” He handed her the pad, showing a loft built into one corner and Jath scowled.
“Your ways are madness. There is no room for games of love.” She quickly pointed at the image of the loft. “You will lie here. I will be here,” ‘on top, obviously,’ Rokk thought, “I will arc my back like this,” she demonstrated, thrusting her armor-plated breasts into his face, “and I will strike my head on the ceiling.” She flung the pad back into the pile of possessions yet to be sorted. “We will sleep on many soft cushions,” she pointed into the corner, “there. Flung onto the floor, we shall nestle into them like puppies against their mothers’ warm belly.” That settled, Lydda turned and began arranging her weapons on the wall.
‘Home, sweet home,’ Rokk thought with a grin, moving to begin unpacking.
“So ‘Jath’ is the name her Clan gave her, and ‘Genti’ is the name of her Clan itself?” Garth clarified, as he checked out Rokk’s new quarters.
“Yeah. She has another name, but it’s a personal thing, and only family are supposed to know it, so if I sprock up and call her something else, just pretend you didn’t hear it, ‘cause I have no idea how she’ll react if she thinks I’ve told other people…” Rokk said, voice lowered, as if she might come around the corner at any moment.
“Check. No using the pet name.” Garth said, checking out the hammock in the discard box. “No more swinging from the rafters, I see.”
Rokk pointed at the enormous pile of pillows taking up the corner of the room. “’Where we shall nestle like puppies against the belly of their mother,’” he air-quoted.
“Looks cozy.” Eyeing the arrangement critically. “No blankets?”
“No, you just pull pillows over yourself until all anyone can see is a pile of pillows with two heads sticking out.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.” Garth said with a grin.
Rokk sat down on a cushion and put his head in his hands. “I have no sprocking idea what I’m doing.” Garth frowned at the sudden change. “I’m eighteen years old, light-years from the only life and home I’ve ever known, and *married* to someone I’m not sure I’ll ever understand! What the hell was I thinking?!”
“Rokk…” Garth began, only to trail off as Rokk kept talking, looking despondently at the floor.
“All my life, it’s been me, me, me. Focus, training, discipline, always moving ahead like a dune-shark, never looking back. Every tryout, every match, I saw hundreds of people desperately trying to be like me, to reach what I had, and I stepped over every single one of them without once thinking of them as people. And then life on Braal gets less fun, and I’m moving on again, my family, my career, my trainers, the corporation, all left behind to pick up the pieces, yet more wreckage in the wake of my *selfish* life.” Rokk’s fist slammed into the wall behind him in frustration.
“What if I do it again?” Rokk looked up, eyes imploring, “What if I sprock this up and run away again, and Jath becomes just another broken thing I’ve left behind?”
“Awesome.” Garth said, looking down at his friend as he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall.
“What?!”
“All these times you’ve had to pull my head out of my ass, and I finally get to return the favor.”
“I’m so sprocking happy that my total nervous breakdown is amusing you…” Rokk said bitterly, hauling himself to his feet and heading for the door.
Garth jerked forward and grabbed ahold of Rokk’s shoulder, and there was a moment when it looked like Rokk was going to hit him, but the moment passed. “*If* you were half the self-centered jerk you’ve just described, you would never have said any of that. You wouldn’t care if Jath got hurt, you wouldn’t be worrying about sprocking things up.” Garth turned him around, so that they were face to face, but Rokk was looking down now, unwilling to face his friend. “Yeah, you’ve made a choice I don’t think I’ll *ever* understand, but you’ve never backed down in your life. You didn’t ‘give up’ on Braal, you moved on because it didn’t have anything left for you. What, were you going to become a miner? Maybe live off of sponsorship residuals for the rest of your life, a washed-up has-been former sports-star, wallowing in disgrace? I don’t think so. You’re right Rokk, you’re only eighteen years old, but your life is nowhere near over. It’s just beginning, and it wasn’t going to be on Braal.”
“You said it wasn’t my fault, the choices that Ayla made, the choices that Mekt made. You were right. And it isn’t your fault that all those people you beat *weren’t good enough.* Do you really think that creep who drugged you would have felt guilty if he kicked your ass in the championships? Do you think he’s got a list somewhere of all the people he stepped over to get to that championship match?”
Rokk nodded in the negative when it became clear that Garth was waiting for an answer.
“You said that I was smarter than you…” Garth began, but was cut off as Rokk raised a hand in protest, “Oh no, I categorically deny saying anything of the sort.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t, but I hear your story about running away and leaving wreckage in your wake, and I think of this other guy who ran away from his home-world, and left behind a promising career and a loving, if somewhat messed-up, family. Maybe you’re not the only one who looks back and sees things he’d wish he’d done differently, but unless you’ve got a time-travel machine, we’ve got to move forward, and try not to repeat the mistakes of the past.” Garth could see that Rokk was more relaxed now, and grinned as he pointed at the regen-pack leaning against the shelf, “And what the sprock are you thinking, letting a woman who can tear steel with her bare hands touch your body? Are you nuts? I thought I was insane, dating a telepath, but you had to be all competitive and do something even crazier…”
Rokk laughed, tension evaporating out of him visibly, “Yeah, there’s a whole ‘woman of steel, man of tissue paper’ thing going on, but we’re working on it.”
“More information than I need, thanks…” Garth said, stepping back towards the doorway. “I’ve gotta meet said telepath for lunch, wanna join us?”
“Nah, Jath should be back any time now, and I should be here.”
“You’re crazy, man. If psycho-woman tears off anything important, I’m gonna be there saying, ‘I told you so.’”
“Yeah, well, your girlfriend can tear apart your *brain,* so don’t be late.”
Garth’s shot Rokk a dubious expression, “I really hadn’t thought of it that way…” and turned around to see Jath standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hi.” Garth said lamely, moving to one side and then the other, but unable to exit while Jath was blocking the doorway. “Nice to see you.”
Lydda walked past him into the room. “No it isn’t. You do not like me. I do not like you. Do me the kindness of being honest, and I will respect your honesty.” She said curtly to Garth, before pointing to the door. “Now go dine with your mate, and whisper of I am a rude barbarian. I will dine with my mate, and we shall speak of you not at all.”
Wincing at this blunt, and unfortunately accurate, description of the last few days, Garth beat a hasty retreat.
“He really doesn’t mean anything by it, hon,” Rokk began, but Lydda cut him off. “Yes he does. And it does not concern me. He is your friend, and it seems that he is a good friend, to you. That is acceptable. There is a saying among my people. ‘The louder the family protests, the stronger the pairing.’ My kin do not approve of you, and the family you have chosen for yourself does not approve of me. It is fitting.”
Satisfied that the discussion was over, Lydda produced a bag full of cheesy crab-puffs. “The hunt was successful, although the vendor was unable to adequately describe what sort of beast has such a crunchy, yet delicate, hide and such flavorful innards.”
Rokk smiled and sat down with his wife, to explain the wonders of puff-pastry.
[ March 08, 2007, 06:16 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
The writing may slow down a tad at this point. Up until now, it's been going so fast that I've had up to four chapters 'on hold' because I didn't want to post them all in a row. But I've cleared the backlog.
A hint of chapters to come (which may or may not come about as planned);
Trouble on Venegar! (aka Return of the Queen) The Mindwitch rebellion A tale of three Ranzzes (aka the missing Ranzz origin-story) Whatever happened to? (aka Themiscrya reborn) All Naked, All Gay, With Goats! (just kidding)
Sarya of Venegar had a pain in her skull from these endless arcane rituals and ceremonies that the delegates referred to as ‘diplomacy.’ She had developed a great respect for Orin Fex, of Colu, who would stand aloof and spoke only matter-of-factly. His rudeness was comforting, in it’s own way, as compared to the slippery words of Ravin of Talokk, who would say one thing while meaning another or the sickening platitudes of the Orandan Ambassador, who could sit for hours talking and talking and talking more, and never come to any decision at all.
What madness could compel a people to hold meetings to decide when they are going to hold still other meetings? To argue for days about what business they will discuss at a meeting in the future? One thing was certain, the United Planets was in dire need of the strong hand of monarchy.
Her pad buzzed with a high priority incoming message and she closed the document on Winathian crop genetics to answer the call from the SP sector chief. “Yes, Commissioner Rellos?”
“Highness.” The man said perfunctorily, clearly distracted by something occurring on another screen. “You mentioned previously that the city could call upon your Champions…” he began, clearly attempting to be diplomatic, but rushing his words in some urgency.
Sarya decided to speed him along, “I will dispatch them at once. Where do you require them?”
The man turned to actually face the pad, having apparently expected to go through an extended conversation to get to this point, “Dockside. They won’t be able to miss the… disturbance.” The image on the pad shifted as he turned it to face the image he was seeing on his own monitors. What seemed like a child’s playtoy, a metal-clad knight, was moving slowly and jerkily across an indistinct terrain, lights flashing. The scene pulled back, and Sarya could see that the machine was taller than most of the surrounding buildings, and that flying SP vehicles were being swatted from the sky by its’ over-sized limbs, or blasted spiraling into the ground by the blaster cannons affixed to its’ shoulders. She could just make out the words written in Interlac on its’ chest as it turned towards the camera.
Turning her thoughts inwards, Sarya’s mind touched the Emerald Eye and broadcast a command to her Champions Rings <<Champions! Report to the Metropolis docks, immediately. Assist the Science Police against the… Giant Killer Robot.>>
“They will arrive shortly,” Sarya promised, and then severed the connection, having noticed that the Commissioner was already attending to other matters.
“Giant Killer Robot?” Garth said dubiously as he and Imra sailed into the throne room and directly out a service hatch constructed in the crystal ceiling.
<That’s what the lady said.> Imra thought, humor tinging her mental ‘voice.’
In their chambers, Rokk was flying out the door when his forward motion was arrested by a steely grasp on his ankle.
Lydda was pulling a blade from the wall with her free arm, while casually holding him in mid-air with the other. “You will bring me to the battle.” She said, matter-of-factly, pulling a mask over her face.
“Lydda, it’s day…” Rokk warned, wondering how she could possibly be holding him in place, against the force of his Champion’s Ring. She should have been pulled off-balance, if not physically dragged along with him.
“I am prepared.” She said, sliding her new sun-lenses into place, and he noticed that the new outfit Sarya had provided covered every inch of skin.
“Hold on,” Rokk said, moving around to grab her around the waist, and then suddenly he was free and they surged forward.
With a rush of magnetic force, Rokk caught up with Imra and Garth. Fortunately, Jath’s extra weight didn’t seem to be appreciably slowing his flight, although he was concerned about expending too much of his magnetic reserves before even getting there.
Within moments, the rampaging machine was visible, a dozen meters in height, and plated in red and gold armor, with blaster cannons that could only have come from a scout ship of some sort firing indiscriminately into the surrounding warehouses. Humanoid in shape, it seemed to ignore any resistance from the SP drones buzzing around it, swatting them aside, or blasting them down, without stopping it’s relentless advance.
<<Going in,>> Garth announced through his Ring, swooping low and erratic over the ground with such grace that Rokk felt a moment of jealousy. Blasts of lightning flew up into the machine as Garth wove between its’ legs, rotating in mid-flight so that he was blasting it in the back as he soared up behind it. The blaster-cannons lacked the field of fire, and the robots entire torso pivoted, so that it was facing backwards while still walking forwards. Both cannons opened fire at the flying Champion, and his friends winced as he dropped from the air. But he had deliberately dropped before the beams reached him, and was again flying low, using the ground as cover as he moved in for another run.
“There,” Lydda pointed and abruptly let go of Rokk and plummeted to the ground, landing with a heavy impact that fractured the ferrocrete beneath her, only to stand up, fully in the shadows of a warehouse.
Rokk took advantage of Garth’s distraction to come up behind the giant machine, and unleashed an electromagnetic pulse directly into the back of its’ stumpy head. The machine pivoted again with blinding speed, completely unaffected, and a giant limb sent him flying out of control into the distance. Only his magnetic powers saved him from broken ribs as he repelled himself away from the metallic limb, and so avoided the worst of the impact, but still he floated in mid-air, attempting to regain his bearings.
<<This isn’t working, it’s completely shielded!>> Garth announced as he unleashed another blistering barrage into the creature, only serving to score the black letters on it’s torso, which indeed proclaimed it to be a ‘Giant Killer Robot.’ The returning blaster-fire caused an explosion in a fallen SP drone, and the shockwave caught the wildly veering Champion unprepared, sending him into a building with bruising force.
Imra hovered in the air, watching and feeling more helpless than ever, but observed that the robot had completely ignored Rokk, hovering in mid-air, a sitting duck, and was even now walking past Garth, stunned on the ground. She began to hatch a plan as a tiny projectile embedded in the creatures’ torso. She could see Jath, hugging the shadows and staring at the other blade in her hand uselessly. The machine hadn’t even noticed her attack.
Jath threw her blade down in frustration and turned to a freight-loading machine that must have weighed several tons. Calling upon every name of every Warrior soul she could remember, she braced her legs and heaved. Imra watched with shock as the freight-hauler slammed into the robot and nearly knocked it from its feet. While it stood reeling, Imra enacted her plan, telepathically contacting the dozen SP troopers engaged in a constant retreat, futilely sending long-range blaster fire at the armored behemoth.
<Strike here,> Imra said, presenting an image of the left-most blaster cannon, <Now.>
The speed and force of the compulsion was such that half of the SP snipers were shooting before they even realized that they had not received this command from the Commissioner over their head-sets, and the blaster-cannon quickly became a smoking ruin.
<Again!> Imra commanded, redoubling the strength of her compulsion, forcing the image of the remaining blaster-cannon into the minds of the SP troopers, and like puppets, their arms jerked and they again lay down a coordinated stream of plasma-fire at the remaining turret, until it too was a smoldering husk. She could feel that most of the SP had recognized her command as telepathic this time, but few chose to resist, having witnessed the effectiveness of her telepathic sighting.
The machine had regained it’s footing, and pivoted towards Jath, stomping towards her at speed, as the Warrior woman belted it with every single object available within her area of shadow, including several cargo crates that must have weighed many hundreds of kilos. Garth had just drifted uneasily into the sky and Rokk was flying quickly back into the fray, but neither arrived in time to prevent the massive machine from crouching and striking Jath with a blow of such force that she rocketed back through the air like a missile, limbs limply pinwheeling as her body spun, clearly unconscious, or worse.
“NO!” Rokk screamed, reaching out with all his magnetic might to try and slow her flight, magnetic forces pulling against her metal armor. Jath landed hard a hundred yards distant, and sparks screeched as she slid another ten meters before stopping in a tumble of battered armor and bleeding limbs.
The machine stomped forward, ignoring all other targets, bearing down on Jath’s still form. A dozen support beams rocketed past Garth, magnetically propelled like shot from a rail-gun, some sinking directly into the machines back. From her vantage point, Imra could see that one of the make-shift spears had penetrated deeply and saw sparks. Her voice echoed in their heads, <The shielding is breached! Now, Garth!>
Flying in just behind the projectiles, Garth placed both hands on the protruding spar and channeled every bit of power he could muster through it and into the belly of the beast, only to be hurled clear as it spun again.
He looked up at the enormous machine towering over him, holding up his hand as a shower of sparks rained down, and the breath he’d been holding finally released as he realized that the robot was dead in place, noisily shutting down with loud clanks and thuds.
Imra descended next to him and pulled him clear, thinking that it was about to topple over at any second, but it remained standing, smoking and leaking fluids, a grotesque statue.
Rokk had landed in front of Lydda and found that he had barely enough magnetic capacity remaining to lift her body and carry her back into the shadows, where he sat next to her and began trying to peel off her battered armor by hand.
Imra led Garth over to their friend, <Rokk, I’ve got a medical team on the way. She’s still alive.> she thoughtcast.
“I know,” Rokk said without looking up, removing the breastplate that was restricting her breathing, and adjusting her bracer to support her broken upper arm. “It’s my role. She brings me food and gives me shelter. I remove her armor after battle and cleanse her wounds.” he said numbly, as if reciting a child’s rhyme.
“How long must I wear this device?” Jath complained.
Checking the read-outs on the regen-unit, Rokk set his hand on the back of her neck and massaged it, “The rest of the day, Jath. You were very lucky…”
Imra and Garth sat around a conference table, across from Rokk and hover-chair-confined Jath. Sarya was at the head of the table, finishing up a conversation with SP Commissioner Rellos.
Pointing at the pad, depicting the battle, Imra had doubts, <This thing had an agenda. It knocked Garth for a loop, and Rokk, and instead of going for the kill, it completely ignored both of them and continued marching along, blowing stuff up.>
Garth was looking at maps of the area, running scenarios to attempt to determine if it had some target, but was running into no obvious targets. “Where did the sprocking thing come from, anyway? 10 meter assault mechs with the words ‘Giant Killer Robot’ stenciled on the chest don’t just grow on trees…”
The Queen had finished her conversation with the Commissioner and answered Garth. “The individual components all arrived today on different transports from all over the United Planets. The SPs have not yet found any correlation between these shipments, other than the fact that all ended up in the same storage facility, and burst free of their containers and assembled themselves into the final machine you defeated.”
Rokk turned to Imra. “The robot may have ignored me and Garth, but it definitely went for the kill on Jath. She couldn’t have been the target, could she?”
Jath cut in, “Perhaps it simply recognized me as the threat it had not been prepared against?”
<What do you mean, Jath?>
“It was a robot. Immune to your mind-speech. It was shielded against Ranzz’s skyfire. And it was shielded again against your mastery of metal,” she added, looking up and placing her uninjured hand over Rokk's.
<That sort of shielding could just have been a coincidence…> Imra began, but Garth cut her off.
“No. Jath is right. The cost to shield a machine of that size against all forms of electromagnetic disruption would be astronomical. Nobody would do that unless it was specifically designed to face that sort of assault.”
Sarya chose that moment to interrupt her Champions. “At the present, the Commissioner is quite grateful for our assistance in this matter. It would be prudent, for the time being, to not suggest that our presence has incited this incident, at least until we are in full possession of the facts.” At the matching concerned expressions, Sarya clarified. “I am not suggesting that we lie, or shirk responsibility if this theory does indeed prove to be true. I merely stress that we will find the SP less than cooperative in the investigation if they believe us to be a part of the problem…”
“The cunning hunter knows when to wait quietly.” Jath agreed.
“Okay, work with the SPs for now, ‘fess up if we find any more evidence that this was targeted towards the Embassy.” Garth conceded. Suddenly looking up, he added, “Jath should have a Ring. Rokk doesn’t have unlimited power and it’s going to cut into his effectiveness if he has to carry her around.”
Jath started shaking her head, but Sarya was the first to speak. “That would be inappropriate. Jath’s loyalties are to Kathoon and Ambassador Marin. She is a guest, and a welcome one, but I would not ask her to abandon her calling.” Jath nodded, satisfied with this explanation.
Sarya closed her eyes and thought aloud, “I can place a new order for Braalian mag-steel, although it will take some time to produce to specifications.” Turning to Jath, “the new armor I will provide will be as strong as your own, but also contain a powerful magnetic charge. This will be of no use to you, but will allow Champion Krinn to draw upon your armors’ reserves as well as his own.”
“He will be able to draw strength from my presence on the field of battle?” Jath asked, leaning back in surprise.
Imra had been quiet for some time as Garth traced out projected trajectories on his maps and Rokk rubbed Jath’s shoulders. She finally bit the bullet and broadcast a thought, making sure that everyone at the table ‘heard’ it,
<I’m glad you were there today, Jath, although I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m also glad you were here to add another viewpoint on the robot’s motivations.>
Jath’s face was impassive and her head tilted slightly as Imra spoke in their minds. She scowled, “I have not sought your approval, but it is welcome. You also fought well, instructing the male security forces in the proper use of their weapons.” Her head bobbed, and at first Imra thought she was nodding, but it was clear that she was starting to lose consciousness again.
“Okay, bed-time for the lovely lady in the regen-suite, I think,” Rokk said, turning Jath’s chair towards the exit, pausing only to turn to Imra and whisper, ‘thanks.’
Imra smiled, eyes closing briefly as she nodded to Rokk, and then turned to see if she could help Garth determine the robot’s goal.
[ March 08, 2007, 06:20 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter thirteen “Endings and beginnings” – wherein more questions are raised than answered
Lydda had been in a regen-induced stupor when the Kathooni delegation arrived at the Embassy that evening, having heard of the battle on the news-nets (or, more likely, through the diplomatic gossip-line, which possessed some sort of faster-than-thought network). Ambassador Marin accepted the Queens invitation to return the following evening, when Jath would be available for company.
Rokk spent the next morning watching her sleep fitfully, punctuated by fits of loud snoring that he had come to associate with the warrior-woman, while searching the commerce boards for a supply of metal wire. He managed to locate a suitable quantity, at a reasonable price, and it was delivered before lunchtime. He fed Jath, who woke only long enough to swallow three bowls of soup in rapid succession, until he could feel her stomach bulge slightly with the warm broth, and then immediately dropped right back into a deep sleep. The read-outs indicated that her bones were setting well, the regeneration procedure proceeding without incident, and the soft tissue damage from her torn muscles and ligaments was completely repaired. He made sure she was comfortable, and set a pitcher of water within arms reach, before collecting his 100 kilos of iron wire and heading down to the training area.
Seeing Imra in the training room, walking on her hands, eyes closed as she slowly placed one hand before the other while striving to maintain her balance on trembling arms, Rokk turned slowly to find another area to work.
<Come in, Rokk. I could use the distraction. It will help me practice my focus.>, Imra broadcast, her thoughts as steady and calm as if she was not currently trembling with exertion, as sweat dripped off her brow as she regained her balance after another ‘step.’
“Okay, I’ll just go over here,” Rokk gestured, realizing belatedly that she would have no idea where he was pointing, with her eyes closed, “out of your way.”
He set the box down and began feeling the currents of the dozens of meters of coiled wire. Pulling out a plasma cutter, he began measuring out lengths just under two meters, straightening them with a pulse of magnetic force, and laying them on the floor next to him while he worked.
Twenty minutes later, he had a large collection of these wires, and he waved his hand theatrically, causing them all to stand at attention, perpendicular to the floor, clustered together like a forest full of thin metal trees. Portioning sixteen wires out from the rest, while holding the rest steady, he caused them to begin looping around each other, the metal twisting and bending before his eyes as his mind imposed a new order upon the metal. Holding that batch steady, he then continued to separate out other batches and twist them similarly, until he had a dozen thick ‘braids’ of metal, interwoven among each other.
At some point Imra had finished her hand-walking, and was now running up the wall, Champion’s Ring glowing faintly as she used it to lessen the pull of gravity on herself, but not negate it, requiring her to use her leg muscles and continuous forward motion to keep herself off the ground.
She paused, fully activating the Ring and floating in mid-air, staring at the construction taking place in front of her motionless friend. His hand sat idly on his knees and his eyes had gone out of focus. Imra could tell that he was no longer *seeing* the metal with his eyes, only sensing them through his magnetic perceptions. His breathing had become shallow, as if his body was falling asleep, while his mind worked furiously.
She initiated a very light mental touch, enough to alert him to her presence without startling him out of his deep focus, and after a second he replied, “Yeah?”
<I didn’t want to break your focus. Can you talk and do this at the same time?>
“We’re about to find out.” He said matter-of-factly, the metal towers swaying slightly with the effects of his now-divided attention.
<This is an amazing display of concentration. You are holding up a dozen different items at once, and also performing fine manipulations. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I wouldn’t have thought anyone not trained on Titan would have such focus.>
“Magno-ball requires you to be able to calculate trajectories instantly, and to perform split-second micro-analysis of the currents your opponent has charged into the ball. If you don’t spot them in time, the ball could jink off in an unanticipated direction as the currents shift, and, well, you lose.” ‘and I don’t lose,’ Rokk added silently, the unspoken motto that had gotten him to the world championships, and the motto that had gotten him back on his feet.
Imra noticed that he’d slowed down his work, and the metal components weren’t moving as quickly or precisely, and knew that the conversation was taking its toll on his concentration.
With a sudden wrenching sound, all of the dozen tall twists of metal wrapped around each other and tightened in a constricting embrace, and suddenly Imra was staring at an iron representation of Jath’s towering coiffure. His eyes opened and he took a sudden shuddering breath, as if waking up, but a smile crosses his features.
<I thought you were refining your powers… You’re practicing hair-styling?> Imra said with a disbelieving tone coloring her thoughts.
“I’m doing both,” Rokk said with a grin, hauling himself to his feet and staring down at his creation. “I’m going to wash Jath’s hair with a ferromagnetic-laced conditioner, and then I’ll be able to do this.” He looked down and the wires all suddenly whirled apart with a screech of tortured metal and stood waving like trees again before reconstructing themselves perfectly in an instant into the twisted tower of wire. His hands were shaking with the effort and leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily, but he seemed proud of himself.
Imra stepped forward concerned, <You just learned to do that, right now?>
“Yeah. Don’t know what you can do until you try, right?” Rokk said, wiping sweat from his forehead, but still grinning broadly at his accomplishment.
<I’m concerned that you might over-exert yourself…> Imra began, noticing that his lips were pale and the shaking in his hands had not yet subsided.
Looking done at the trembling hand Imra had started to reach for, Rokk closed his eyes and the trembling stopped, “I’m fine, Imra. You stick to the telepathy, I’ll handle the magnetic stuff.” He waved and the iron sculpture flew into the box with the remaining wire, and then the entire mass lifted and floated into his arms.
<Rokk, please, I’m just worried. Your entire body is dependent on your magnetic powers, if you overtax them, you could end up in bed again.>
Rokk’s face flushed, “Look, Imra, I know you’re just being a good friend and looking out for me, but trust me, I damn well know my limits and I know what’s at stake if I burn out.”
Ditching the wire-sculpture in a storage room, Rokk returned to their quarters to find that Jath had rolled over in her sleep again, and needed to be adjusted to make sure that she didn’t slow down the blood-flow to her arm and reduce the effectiveness of the regen-treatment. She woke bleary-eyed, looking around confused and he smiled down at her.
“Hey, sleepyhead. We’ve got company coming tonight and I need to get you into the tub.” Jath groggily let him lead her to the bath, and he spent a half hour making sure that the torn tissues in her shoulder had not stiffened up while she slept, massaging them to work out the tightness in the newly-rebuilt muscles. He then got to work on her hair, while she dozed in the warm water.
By the time Jath was fully conscious, she was back in her hover-chair, with Rokk finishing the last braids of her hair. She awoke to see the leftover silver pins flying back towards the shelf, and held a cautious hand up to check her braids. All was in order, she was pleased to discover.
She got out of the hover-chair, displeased to note that she still had a soreness in her hip and was limping slightly, and crossed over to a mirror to examine her mates handiwork.
Rokk remained puzzled how she could see her reflection so clearly when all he could make out in the dim room was a shadowy figure, but she turned her head and seemed to notice the presence of the tiny flecks of metal that sparkled in the conditioner that he’d used. “This is not iron?”
“No, it’s a blend of manganese and bismuth. I wouldn’t decorate you with the metal of another Clan.” Rokk reassured her. ‘Especially not the Sangti,’ Rokk added silently.
Ambassador Marin and four of her five remaining Warriors arrived soon after sunset. Kand, Rokk was pleased to note, was not among them, having apparently expressed a desire to guard their quarters for the evening.
The room was dark, and the Warriors talked of the battle, but the descriptions were lacking, given Lydda’s limited view of the action, trapped in the shadows of the warehouse. Rokk stood behind Lydda through most of the exchange, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and found the occasional silences to be even worse. The Ambassador had produced a pad and was displaying SP footage of the battle, and the Warriors had crowded around, making the room feel even more oppressive than ever. At the sight of Lydda hurling the freight-hauler and the giant robot rocking back unsteadily, a cheer went up, and they started arguing about whether or not this or that ancient Warrior had done something more impressive.
Distracted and having lost track of the conversation, Rokk suddenly noticed that the Warriors had gotten very quiet, and he felt their heads were turned in his direction. Looking down at the pad, he saw the image of Lydda’s body lying in the shadows, her head cradled in his arms as he pulled her breastplate off of her, and he had to look away.
The Ambassador turned off the display with a click. “We leave now, Jath. A great victory, you bring pride to us all.” On the way out of their quarters, each of the Warriors brushed his arm softly as they passed.
Imra’s head turned as she received the telepathic communication, quickly descending to the floor of the training room. She had been, unsuccessfully, she noted sourly, attempting to replicate Garth’s seemingly instinctive ability to maneuver quickly while in flight using a series of suspended hoops. No matter how she focused, she couldn’t seem to match his speed and agility on the aerial obstacle course she had set up, and he seemed to be able to do these things while exercising his powers!
She had recognized the mind-contact only as Titanian, and so did not bother to change her clothes from her sweat-soaked workout suit, knowing that another Titanian would care as little for details of personal appearance as she did. Arriving in the meeting area, her fist-sized golden psi-crystal pulsed with a rosy aura, and she placed her hand upon it, sending her thoughts threading through the psi-net to speak with her caller. The image resolved in her mind, and she could see Reyu Nataal, the young Titanian that had been rescued from the Mindfire dealers. Her mental self offered the equivalent of a hug, and Reyu accepted it, but quickly broke direct mental contact.
<It is good to see you up and about Reyu.>
The young Titanian male was still regrowing his hair, from where they had shaved it to attach their machines, and his psychic posture radiated discomfort and unease. Even by lax Titanian standards, his appearance was disheveled and spoke of his inner turmoil. As a mental projection, he could easily have faked a happier guise, but he clearly cared nothing for appearances at this point.
<Thank you Imra. I wished to contact you before I left Earth.>
Imra stifled a sigh of disappointment, <You are returning to Titan, then?>
<Yes, I’m going home. I won’t leave Titan again.> he said with conviction.
<I understand Reyu. Really, I do. But those monsters can never harm you again.>
<It doesn’t matter. There will be more. There will always be more, Imra. They sold the Mindfire, but others bought it, and those others are still out there. Someone will arise to provide for them, and more Titanians will be snatched away to be…> his mental voice trailed off, unwilling to continue the thought.
<I will not contest your choice. Your safety, both of body and of mind, are the important thing. The Commissioner says that they are trying to track down the customers…>
<The Commissioner! He says they are to be punished, and instead I hear that they are being sent to Takron-Galtos, to sit in tiny rooms with only their memories. He said this was a *punishment?* It is a respite! A *vacation!* Where is the justice? They should be peeled and their organs given to the less fortunate.>
<Reyu!>
<I will not take it back, Imra. They deserve punishment, and instead they will sit and be *bored.*>
<There is nothing I can say to make this better, Reyu. They treated you like a meat-worlder treats an animal, to be harvested and exploited.>
<There is something I would ask of you, that is why I contacted you.>
<Anything I can do, Reyu, you know that.>
<The Commissioner asked me not to speak to the press about certain details, so as not to hinder an ‘ongoing investigation,’ but I knew from his thoughts that he lied, and simply wanted to prevent a panic.>
Imra was momentarily taken aback by Reyu’s bald admission of reading the Commissioners thoughts without permission, but, given the circumstances, she could hardly fault him for being short on trust, <Go on.>
<They took from me Imra. Not just the fluids they extracted from my spinal cord. Not just the finger they severed to terrify me.> Imra winced at this reminder, that he had shown signs of having many injuries inflicted upon him, only to be regenerated back to health, so that they could do it all over again. <No, they shaved my head and cut into my skull. The doctors have confirmed that part of my psipareital lobe has been removed.>
Imra’s shock was wordless, but clear through the link.
<They took part of me, for reasons that the Commissioner could not explain. My telepathy remains adequate, I am not crippled by the loss, but still, they have reached into me and scooped away part of my self, Imra. The Commissioner knew only that the equipment necessary for the procedure was not at the Mindfire lab. Someone came there with surgical equipment, cut open my skull, took a part of my brain, and then took their equipment and left. I cannot fathom why. Do they mean to clone themselves a telepath? Or an army of them? Do they think they can insert these cells into another, to give them telepathy like ours? It is simply too horrible to consider such things. I thought Mindfire would be the worst horror that the universe could unleash upon me, and then I find that they are not only feeding on our pain, but they are feeding upon our brains?>
<I swear to you, Reyu, I will find out what is going on here. I will put a stop to this.>
<I would urge you to return to Titan, but I know you will refuse. I only beg you to be careful, Imra. I know, in my soul, that not every sentient around me is a monster, seeking to prey upon me, but the fear is too great. All it takes is one of those alien faces to be the one. Please be careful. I do not want to hear that you have gone missing…>
<I will Reyu. Please watch yourself on your return journey. I know that you will not feel safe until you are home, and hope that time comes swiftly.>
<My shuttle is boarding. Be well, Imra.>
<Be safe, Reyu.>
The rose-colored radiance faded and Imra pulled away from the crystal with a shudder, looking around wide-eyed. Her room had seemed so magnificent and spacious when she arrived, but now the walls were too far away to provide protection, and she pushed her bed into the far corner from the open doorway, cursing the Venegarian custom of open doorways, and crawled up onto her bed, back pressed against the walls, staring at the doorway.
When Garth arrived an hour later, she was in the same position. He spent the next twenty minutes tearing down the gauzy curtain and re-activating the former museum chambers security door…
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, chapter fourteen “Curiouser and curiouser” – on the disposition of allies and enemies
Ambassador Sivar Banel of Titan had been expecting this contact for some time, but was annoyed at the timing of it. Still, he raised a finger to silence his guest, and placed his palm on the amber disk of psi-crystal.
<Ambassador, have you heard from Reyu Nataal?>, Imra’s mental voice began brusquely.
<I expedited his passage home only this morning. His shuttle should have departed by now.> the Ambassador thought reassuringly, <It is good that you have contacted me, Imra, I had meant to make contact with you regarding the Nataal case.>
<That was weeks ago, Ambassador, and now I find that details regarding his treatment have been suppressed by the Commissioner.> Imra began, gathering a head of steam.
<At my request, child. There are currently six hundred Titanians on Earth, and many thousands scattered across the United Planets. It would serve nobody to create a panic, save the monster who would thereby be warned that we are seeking them.>
<The people must be warned, Ambassador. Surely, you can see that their safety is more important than the mere appearance of order?>
<Imra, you are young yet, and not versed in the ways that these things must be done. I have many considerations that you have clearly not considered. Any can look at the evening newsvids and see the Champions of Venegar flying over the docks, saving the day like the knights in some ancient tale of romantic fiction, but *I* must dwell in the real world, where it has been said that up to a dozen SP personnel may be filing complaints for unwarranted telepathic coercion.> the Ambassador stated forcefully.
Imra thought back to the moments after the battle on the docks. None of the SP personnel seemed bothered by her actions, and several had actually praised her for her quick thinking…
<No. You are lying to me now. I will discover why you would protect these monsters over your own people.>
The crystal went dark under the Ambassadors hand and he looked up at his guest. <The girl will be trouble, Commissioner. And I sympathize with her position.>
“Ambassador, we cannot afford to let this information get out. We cannot risk this predator escaping us again.”
<And if Champion Ardeen goes public?>
“If Champion Ardeen goes public, then Reyu Nataal will be asked to corroborate her testimony. And he will be unable to do so, won’t he, Ambassador.” The Commissioner said pointedly.
The Ambassador’s eyes narrowed to slits, <I like none of the interpretations of that comment, Rellos.>
Commissioner Rellos raised a hand, “I simply mean that the unfortunate young man will be in counseling, and that it would be a poor time to have press hounding him for details of the horrors he was forced to endure. Nothing sinister was intended.”
<And if she persists?>
“If were to persist, you would find a request upon your desk to have her extricated back to Titan.”
<On what grounds?>
“For her own safety, of course. Between the Mindfire dealers, the protesting SP officers and whatever enemies she has made by fomenting panic and discord among the Titanian émigré population, it would be safer for her, and others, if she were back home.”
<I was unaware that any formal protest had been lodged.>
“As of yet, only concerns have been expressed. But perceptions change over time, and the situation remains fluid.” The Commissioner settled back in his chair, satisfied that this business was resolved, for the time being. “Now, about that other matter.” he added, pointing towards the shacked and hooded figure seated behind them.
<Eve Aries is exiled from Titan. We will not take her. Treat her to your justice.>
“The iridium and rhodinium mesh will block her telepathy?”
<Correct. Even still, the mesh must encompass at least 60% of her head. Some telepaths find their abilities atrophy when confined in this manner. Others acclimate to the dampening effects of the metals, so if her guards report anything out of the ordinary, the mesh must be expanded. If needs be, her mouth should be covered, and she should be fed intravenously, and tubes inserted to provide her with oxygen. No guard with access to the release codes to her confinements should be permitted within ten meters of her person.>
“That sounds quite extreme. What if there is an emergency in the holding facility, and she must be moved quickly for her own safety?”
The Ambassadors eyes were cold, <Then remember the many dozens at the Talokkian Embassy whom she held passive and unresisting as they suffocated and felt their lives slipping away, but were powerless to even crawl to safety. If the holding facility catches fire, let her burn.>
Ambassador Banel blanched at the cold-bloodedness of his own statement and shuddered. <Please leave now, and take *that* with you.> he added, pointing at the bound Titanian.
Sarya had been called upon as a ‘neutral third party’ to arbitrate a trade dispute between Cargg and Talokk VIII, as Venegar was one of the few UP worlds that had not yet a firm trading arrangement with either power. It was to be her first official diplomatic task, and she had been interested in the nature of the arbitration process.
That was then. Now she just wanted the damn thing to be over.
Ambassador Ravin swept majestically across the floor, gesturing broadly, glistening bracers of armor decorating his slender arms, enormous night-black cloak billowing. He had foresworn his usual jewelry of gold and wore only select bits of armor, and mere scraps of cloth, showcasing his lean body. His presence was calculated to appear majestic, and yet hungry, as if he represented a proud but poor and hard-working people. Sarya had lost interest in his specific words some time ago, but made a point of every time he compared his own proud warrior-people to those of Venegar, or his own situation, as Ambassador from a less technologically savvy world, at risk of being ruthlessly taken advantage of by sophisticated inner-worlders and their Byzantine ways, to her own situation. Six times so far.
Finally he concluded, and favored Sarya with a precise courtly bow, before sweeping back just majestically to his delegation, whereupon she was certain that she saw a functionary praising his performance and kissing his hand.
Representing Cargg, Veanli Guampti shuffled into position, the picture of contrition. Her clothing was subdued, and evoked the innocence of a child, with ruffles and bows. Sarya noted with amusement that her shoulder-length hair had been cropped to a boyish length, and her bangs hung to her large and expressive eyes. She informed Sarya of how Cargg had no significant material resources of its own, and was only able to compete economically by taking advantage of the unusual stable wormholes orbiting the world at three specific points. In perpetual risk of being nothing more than a waystop, always being bypassed by the bustle of commerce, her people had ended up on the short end of many deals, and now had a surplus of unwanted cargo that they hoped to sell at spare profit to themselves. The unfair terms of the deal brokered between her naïve and unsuspecting self and the rapacious and worldly Talokkian Ambassador would only bring hardship to her people. It would be grossly unfair for her people to be punished for the unwise choices of a foolish girl, so far from home. Sarya watched raptly, wondering if the girl would go so far as to shed tears, but apparently she realized that this would be a step too far.
She finished her presentation with a curtsy, and trudged away, biting her lip and wringing her hands, looking for all the worlds like someone had just landed a shuttlecraft on her little brother.
Sarya signaled that she would review the documents, and instead chose to watch the delegations out of the corner of her vision. The Talokkians had put up a silence field, and begun arguing most strenuously. After a point, the gesticulating became effusive, and the field became opaque as well. She idly thought that if they butchered each other in there, she would not have to hand down a ruling… The Carggite delegation was quiet and respectful, the picture of control, and Ambassador Guampti chatted quietly with his daughter, heads downcast as he held her hands in his own, the very picture of a solicitous parent.
Sarya looked down at her pad, which recounted the pesky little detail that the Carggite surplus had resulted from over a decade of cheating, swindling and extorting the diverse worlds that came to make use of their unique system of wormholes for expedited transit. ‘Sometimes you fell the tree. Sometimes the tree fells you.’ She thought, recalling her childhood in Vaul province.
She signaled her readiness to decide, and the Talokkian privacy field shimmered and fell, revealing that Ambassador Ravin was now seated, and one member of his delegation had apparently lost consciousness at some point during the conversation, and was now being tended to.
Ravin and Guampti stepped forward. Guampti’s step did not betray her mood, although she did not shuffle quite so mournfully, while Ravin did not so much ‘swoop majestically’ as thunder forward gracelessly, standing with his voluminous cloak folded about himself, no longer seeming interested in showing off his ‘lean, hungry’ physique.
“Ambassador Ravin,” Sarya began. “Your presentation was equal parts fantasy and farce, and I was particularly unimpressed by your incessant attempts to evoke my sympathies by comparing Talokk to Venegar, and your own situation to mine.” Ravin closed his eyes, and Sarya could see the slightest tremor move through him as he contained some angry retort. “Young Miss Guampti,” Sarya said kindly, fingers tenting as she leaned forward supportively, “Your performance was, if anything, worse. I find for Talokk VIII. This arbitration is ended.”
Sarya stood quickly, crushing the pad in her hand contemptuously and flinging the broken shards to the floor in front of the two representatives, before striding from the meeting chamber.
Behind her, she failed to see either Guampti’s display of temper as she stormed off, or Ravin’s calculating stare at her receding form…
Posted by Suddenly Seymour on :
OK, here's my silly attempt at humor:
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter fifteen “Be it ever so green, there’s no place like home” – the Venegarian mind-witch rebellion
Garth had just completed another loop through the aerial rings that Imra had set up, having set a new personal best and veering through the rings without hitting any at breakneck speed. Rokk had just entered the room and Garth did a complicated twist in the air to show off before landing in front of his friend, who was clapping at his performance.
“Thank you, thank you,” Garth said, bowing to an imaginary audience.
“Okay hotshot, Imra’s got a new training idea, since her little obstacle course isn’t even slowing you down.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“The cruiser has been hit and is going to explode. The Queen is unconscious, and you have to carry her down two decks to the escape pod, avoiding debris the whole way.” Rokk takes off his Champion’s Ring and sets it to the side. “So. I get to play Sarya, Queen of Venegar. You get to save me.”
“Okay…” Garth said dubiously. “Shouldn’t you be wearing your Ring?”
“Nope. Imra said that *I* need to learn teamwork, and that it will be ‘good for me’ if I have to trust you.” Rokk’s look was equally dubious.
“Right.” Garth looked at his friend, trying to figure out where to get a solid grip.
“Come on, the ship’s going to explode, get with the saving already!”
“Fine.” Garth snapped, grabbing Rokk around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Sprock! Lose some weight, buddy…”
“You’re going to tell the Queen of Venegar she needs to lose weight?” Rokk quipped.
“Oh hey, you said she was supposed to be unconscious. It would be more realistic if I knocked you out…” Garth retorted.
“Just try iiAAAAA!!!” Rokk trailed off as Garth soared into the air with a burst of speed, only narrowly swerving and missing impacting the ceiling.
“Aaaaa,” he continued to protest wordlessly as they looped through rings, barely clearing them on both sides. “Watch Oooff!” he protested as they bounced off a wall and continued through the course.
Garth completed the last obstacle and landed, lowering his friend to the ground.
“I think I’m going to throw up…”
“Hey, I got you off the exploding ship, right?”
“Yeah, except for the slamming us into a wall part.”
“I planned that. I didn’t want to lose momentum, so I just sort of skipped off.”
“So you’re saying that you *deliberately* used me as a crash cushion, because you didn’t want to slow down?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Well then,” Rokk said, putting his Champion’s Ring on his finger with a grin and holding out his hand for Garth’s ring. “My turn.”
Garth was sitting sullenly on the mats, face pale and drawn, nursing a bump forming on his head. Rokk stood against the nearby wall, massaging his arm.
“Look, I said I’m sorry, alright?”
“It’s okay,” Garth conceded, “Whose bright idea was it to put Imra in charge of coming up with insane training ideas?”
“The Queens.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Changing the topic, I notice that you guys have a door now.”
“Yeah, Reyu’s story really freaked her out.”
“I don’t blame her. I’d be pretty freaked out too if I found out that there was some sick sprock out there collecting Braalian brain-tissue…” Noticing Garth’s look of concern, Rokk tried to lighten the mood, “But hey, as a bonus, I don’t have to hear you guys anymore.”
“Oh right, like you and Jath don’t make enough noise. It sounds like she’s killing you in there!” Garth looked up and mock-whispered, “And between you and me, you scream like a girl…”
Three months had passed since Sarya had come to Earth and gathered her Champions. And now the time of Presentation had come.
“Champions. I must attend a function on Venegar. You will accompany me.” She turned to Jath, “You may accompany us, or remain here at the Embassy, as you choose. We will return in a week’s time, in any event.”
The Champions walked back to their quarters, considering what to prepare for the trip.
<I should read up on Venegar, I don’t want to embarrass the Queen.>
“Oh man, more etiquette?” Garth moaned.
A sinking feeling in his stomach, Rokk wondered aloud, “So Imra, that whole ‘the ship is about to explode’ training exercise, that wasn’t some weird Titanian precognitive dream or anything, was it?”
<I certainly hope not!> Imra thought with amusement.
After a blessedly explosion-free trip, the Venegarian diplomatic cruiser (the first and only of it’s kind) touched down on a stony field outside of the capital city of Srenath.
As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Rokk re-adjusted the black shawl covering Lydda, and they stood to the side as hundreds of people milled around, hoping to get a view of their Queen. Sarya then proceeded down the ramp and a cheer went up. An honor guard of dozens, wearing chainmail of golden metal under green tabards, but carrying very effective-looking gauss rifles, saluted with military precision, as courtiers in fantastic and intricate robes of state bowed and curtsied.
“I still half-expected the sun would be green or something.” Garth muttered under his breath, hand shielding his eyes from the earth-standard yellow sunlight.
The courtiers fluttered about in some sort of ritualized pattern, and then split apart to clear a path for the Queen’s Mentor Barak, the former King of Venegar, who served now as Regent in her absence. Despite his age, he was a solid man, and moved with confidence, despite his intricately carved golden breastplate and fluttering green cloak. His breastplate bore the symbol of the Emerald Eye of Ekron, but on his cloak was a golden container filled with blue water.
“My child, welcome home. It is time to meet the new crop of adversaries that shall bedevil you, as you bedeviled me.”
Sarya hugged the former King, “It is good to see you again, Barak. You have not lost your subtle way of speaking, I see.”
“Ha!” the man bellowed. “I will be offending the courtiers long after I am planted in the dirt, Sarya, you know this. Let us get this old man out of the hot sun. You shall take my arm, and support my failing limbs.” He proclaimed loudly, and Sarya took his arm, and they strode back to the waiting hover-car.
The apparent leader of the honor guard stepped forward and saluted the Champions, “Hail Champions. You will ride with us.” Garth noticed that the honor guard were also older, nine men and three women, but all at least fifty years of age.
<Champions of the former King,> Imra clarified, drawing his attention to the matching emerald rings they all bore. <Their Rings no longer function, save to allow them to communicate between each other, as the Eye, and all it’s power, has passed to Sarya.>
Garth was keenly aware of the passage to the city, as the veteran Champions eyed their young replacements suspiciously.
The streets were packed with spectators, and green ribbons and banners flew everywhere. Garth couldn’t quite make up the writings or illustrations on many of them, as they were shades of green on green too subtle for his eyes to tell apart, but the crowd certainly seemed in the spirit of things.
Vehicles had been cleared from the streets, new looking ground vehicles, powered by biofuels, it seemed, as Venegar had not yet completed it’s conversion to energy-cell technology, or to the general use of the hover-transports used by the Queen and her retinue.
The buildings were an odd mix of new and old. The city was clearly old, and the buildings were built in a medieval style, with none over three floors in height, with few exceptions, such as the royal palace even now coming into view. And yet the people were dressed in fashions of modern fabrics, and the security men lining the streets, keeping them clear for the motorcade to pass, carried sonic weapons.
The enormous green crystal dome in the center of the royal palace soon took up his vision, and the vehicle stopped. Peering out, Garth could see that the Queen’s vehicle had already stopped, and that she was standing on the steps, waving to the crowd. A shimmer in the air seemed to distort his view, and Garth spotted the shield generators concealed in decorative statuary around the entrance to the palace. Apparently, not everyone on Venegar was in love with the monarchy…
The day quickly grew exhausting. Who knew that after six hours sitting bored in a cramped space-cruiser, one could long to be sitting down again? An endless succession of people spoke on all sorts of topics that he quickly tuned out. It wasn’t until the drums sounded that he looked up to see that new figures had arrived, and the Presentation had already begun.
The first group split apart at the entrance to the throne room, and a woman, approximately Sarya’s age, came forward, carrying a baby in a bassinet. He could see that the bassinet had anti-grav generators, and while she was supporting it possessively, it was weightless in her hands. Unlike the finely dressed courtiers in their many yards of silk, she wore loose-fitting pants of dark brown leather, and a loose shirt. Her boots were sturdy, if well-made, and had no sign of decoration. She had a necklace and bracers of dull iron, but they were thick and blocky, more like armor than jewelry. The only decorated item on her person was an ornate pick slung over her back, the head made of gleaming silvery metal, and wickedly sharp at one end, and with a blunt hammer on the other. The handle was composed of a dozen intertwined serpents of different precious metals, each with gems for eyes, a mixture of sapphires, emeralds and topaz.
“Metra,” Sarya greeted with a slight nod. “Welcome to you.”
“Highness, I present my ward,” she moved forward, uncovering the sleeping infant so that Sarya could see him, “I have named him San.”
“A strong name for a strong line. He appears healthy. Train him well, if you expect him to take the throne.” Sarya said brusquely and nodded her dismissal.
With that, Metra stepped backwards from the throne, until she was several paces from it, before turning and rejoining her retinue.
Sarya announced in a ringing tone, “The first challenger is San, of Gardan province. He is recognized!” and Metra raised the bassinet to the quiet applause of the court. The noise woke the infant, who began to fuss, and Metra quickly lowered the bassinet and her people closed ranks around her as she tended him.
Barak stood up from the seat beside the throne. “The Queen has traveled far, and now we have business of the realm to attend to. Leave us.” As the court bustled about, and the guards politely, but firmly, escorted the various guests out of the chamber, Sarya spoke up. “Metra. You are welcome to remain, if you do not wish to immediately return to your lands.”
Metra stepped back into view and bowed, “I am honored, but I must return. Be well, Sarya.”
Garth muttered to Imra. “How many more?”
<Four more, one of which will be presented each day.>
“It’s complicated. They *all* challenged Sarya, but before she was Queen. The five heads of the provinces duel each other until one is proclaimed the victor. She then challenges the King. Sarya defeated each of these women, and then defeated Barak.” Rokk explained, looking over his pad to try and make sense of the complicated lineages of succession between the six clans.
“Five heads? But there are six provinces…”
“Barak was from Mair, the desert-folk, so his people didn’t get to mount a challenger. No province is allowed to hold the throne twice in a row. But Sarya is from Vaul, the great forest, which means that Mair will be able to mount a challenger when the new generation reaches twenty-five.”
“No other can challenge, just these children?”
“They are trained specifically to take the throne. It’s what they’re *born* for, conceived on the night that a new ruler is appointed. And even then, they aren’t considered suited to hold the throne until they have trained in statescraft for at least twenty-five years, *and* defeated all other applicable challengers in duels. Only *then* can they challenge the current ruler for the throne.”
“And if harm befalls these children, can no one take the throne? Must they wait a score of years to sire and train another?”
Rokk grinned, Lydda was worrying at this like a battle she must win, looking for weak points. “They’ve been doing this for centuries, hon. I’m sure they’ve got back-up plans.”
Still she kept on, “A man for King, and then all his challengers are women, and now Sarya’s challengers will all be men?”
“Yeah, they swap every generation, first a King, then a Queen, then a King again. It seems kind of artificial, but hey, it’s a culture that chooses their ruler based on who wins a sword-fight, so I guess that’s a minor quirk…”
“At least it will be decades before we must concern ourselves with their intrigues,” Lydda gruffly acquiesced, rolling over on the narrow bed that Sarya’s people had provided them.
The next days’ presenter was a short bow-legged man, with skin dark and wrinkled, a short white beard, and long white hair pulled back from his balding head. He wore riding clothes, again, plain and undecorated, and at his side carried a horn of ivory, banded in silver and studded with gemstones. He approached, bassinet in hand and kneeled stiffly, saying only, “I present Gal.”
Sarya leaned forward, “He has clear eyes. Show him the road to the truth, Kator.”
The old man muttered bitterly, “I will try to train him better than my last ward.”
Sarya’s voice was cold as she leaned forward into Kator’s face, “Kanli’s death was through no fault of training. In duels, people die. Her skills were not lacking, it was the steel of her armor that failed her, not you. I trust you to teach Gal as well as you taught Kanli.”
The week progressed, and even Sarya was looking impatient for it to be over on the fifth day.
Stepping forth from her entourage, the new arrival was bare-footed and bare-armed, dressed in loose and open pants and vest of white cloth, with bold blue sashes fluttering behind her. Across her back was slung an ornate spyglass of gold and crystal, covered with mother-of-pearl traceries and engravings. The child before her was awake and babbling, but she paid it no mind as she carried the bassinet under her arm.
“Landa.” Sarya said, smiling.
“Highness,” Landa said, with a hint of mockery to the title that caused some in the crowds to mutter, “I present Dar. Someday he shall replace you.”
Sarya smiled and got up to hug the other woman. “Perhaps he shall.” She admitted, looking down into the bassinet. “Hmm. A trifle pudgy. You shall have to take better care of him.”
Rokk looked down at his pad surreptitiously, trying to find any information on this woman, other than that she was the head of the island-realm of Lapal.
<She’s the one challenger Sarya never beat.> Imra informed him, noting his curiosity.
“What?” he whispered, “They how is Sarya Queen, I thought she had to beat all of them…”
<She had to beat all *challengers.* Landa and Sarya met the day before their duel and ended up in an argument about trade-routes and market-challenges that went long into the night. Landa showed up the next day without her sword, and declared that Sarya was the victor. Landa had already beaten all of the others with the blade, but she said that Sarya would be a better Queen, and renounced her claim.>
Rokk looked at Landa with new respect, eyes narrowing as her saw her hand slide beneath the bassinet and felt the presence of metal.
<<Knife!>> he had time to warn the others with his Champion’s Ring.
“The monarchy ends now!” Landa shouted in a dull tone, pulling a gleaming dagger out and thrusting it towards the Queen, letting go of the bassinet indifferently.
Rokk closed his eyes and exerted with the force of his powers, managing to stop the woman’s blade just as it drew blood, but before it struck deep, while Lydda surged forward and effortlessly flung the woman back, wresting her knife from her.
“Whoah, baby!” Garth exclaimed, snatching up the bassinet, spinning lazily through the air unattended. Inside, young Dar was burbling away, apparently enjoying the ride.
Landa suddenly looked up, finding herself meters away from the Queen and held in the arms of woman much stronger than herself.
“The monarchy ends now!” a member of the honor-guard suddenly declared, aiming his gauss rifle at the Queen, who had just stood up in alarm. Regent Barak smoothly stepped in front of her, but the man just stood there, eyes glazed.
<It’s a compulsion! I can’t hold him!> Imra announced, but relaxed as the other guardsmen quickly struck their fellow unconscious.
“The monarchy ends now,” a courtier in an ornate golden robe declared, surging forward, serving tray raised like a weapon. Still balancing the bassinet in one hand, Garth turned and one-punched him in the face and he swayed slightly blinking before sinking to the ground unconscious.
Regent Barak’s eyes glazed for a moment, and Rokk got ready to use his armor to fling him aside. “The… Get out of my mind!” he shouted as he staggered slightly, fists clenching.
<Whoever is doing this, they aren’t in the room,> Imra broadcast to her fellow Champions new and old, as well as the Queen. She was surprised to note that Barak also clearly ‘heard’ her announcement.
“Everyone out!” Barak shouted, and courtiers began to flee the room.
Pushing Barak to the side, Sarya stepped out, “Champions, remove your weapons. Place them to the side.”
The honor-guard immediately set down their rifles, and Rokk noticed that they had also code-locked them so that they could not be quickly activated. He heard a clang, and turned to see that Lydda had also drawn her blades and tossed them aside.
Garth thought he felt Imra’s mind-touch for a second, and suddenly found that Lydda was pinning him to the floor and Imra was holding the bassinet. Rokk was now standing with Barak, in front of the Queen, who was looking increasingly annoyed at having people jump in front of her.
“Uh, what happened?”
<You said ‘the monarchy ends now’ and pointed at the Queen. Rokk jumped to block the lightning bolt, only there was no lightning bolt, you just stood there, and then you looked confused, and then Jath jumped on you.>
“Okay, my bad. You can get off me now, Jath…”
Imra seemed to be looking in all directions at once. <Rokk and Jath are the biggest threats right now. Whatever this telepath is doing, apparently they couldn’t figure out how to make Garth use his powers.>
“Use your witchery to protect Rokk,” Lydda declared, sitting down in the middle of the floor and beginning to finger disks of metal from the loop around her belt.
<I think it’s over. I just felt something lift. Some sort of pressure I hadn’t noticed before. Whoever this is has given up, for now.>
Landa was still sitting on the floor and Sarya pushed between Rokk and Barak to help her up.
“I am sorry, Highness. I felt a voice in my mind, and then I found myself staring down a blade…” she looked up, suddenly concerned, “Dar!”
Imra walked forward with the bassinet.
<He’s fine. He’s just had a bit of a swing around the room…>
Landa’s face darkened and her arm froze in mid-air. Sarya took the bassinet from Imra and handed it to Landa. “Yes, she is a mind-witch, but she is not the one to blame for this, Landa.”
“Have there been any previous incidents of this sort in my absence, Barak?” the Queen asked impatiently.
“Nothing of this sort, but we have found several otherwise reliable men asleep at their posts of late, and now I am suspicious that someone has been moving through the palace unseen.” Barak growled and smacked the table, “I had thought it but lax discipline and ordered them rebuked.”
<Barak, you seemed to resist the compulsion?> Imra asked questioningly.
“I wore the Emerald Eye of Ekron as King for fifty-two standard-years before Sarya bested me. It strengthens the mind. I do not think that any telepath could have seized her mind today.”
<No. That’s true. Whoever it was must have been getting desperate to attempt to compel you.>
“Does your witchery give you any insights to who did this thing? Was it man, or woman? Venegarian or alien visitor?” the Regent queried.
<I’m sorry, I didn’t get any direct contact at all.>
“But others did, could you find tracks in their minds?” Sarya persisted.
<I can try.>
“Summon Landa, and that guard...”
“Tolath,” Barak supplied. “I will.” His eyes closed briefly and then opened again and Imra could see the green ring on his finger pulse, “Tolath comes, and Landa is being summoned.”
Imra turned to Garth, <Do you mind?> and Garth shook his head, “Please, find this creep. I’m not keen on being anybody’s puppet.”
She led Garth into a corner of the chamber, and sat the two of them down cross-legged. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. “Problem?” Garth said, “do I need to clear my mind or something?”
<No, I’m already done. Garth didn’t gain any useful impressions. Darkness, cloth moving, flicking flames. That’s it. I’m pretty sure there was more than one person in the room with the telepath.>
Tolath arrived, and dropped to one knee before the Queen, “Majesty…” he began, but Sarya placed her hand on his head and cut him off, “Silence Tolath. This was not your doing, and I place no blame upon you.” He looked relieved and she continued, “But I would ask that you allow my Champion to trace your thoughts, for sign of those who attacked your mind, and through you, me.”
Tolath looked up at Imra dubiously, but silently agreed.
Imra stood over the kneeling man and pulled a seat over to him. <This would be easier if you sat down. Easier on your knees, I mean.> He jumped at her mental contact, and looked up at the Regent, who gestured at the chair, “Get up already, you want the Queen to get a sore neck looking down at you!”
<Try and relax.> Imra prodded, but recognized that the man wasn’t likely to do so. She sighed and closed her eyes. A few moments later she opened them again, to see that the man was sweating, eyes wide with uncertainty. <It is fine Tolath. There is no compulsion left.> She turned to the others, <He saw even less than Garth. I think he consciously blocked it out, actually.>
Regent Barak opened his mouth, “You…” but the Queens hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to her with a look of surprise, not used to being interrupted.
Pointing at the Emerald Eye of Ekron on her brow, Sarya wagged her finger. “My turn to boss people around. We settled this already.”
Barak sat down heavily in a chair. “I never wanted to be Queen, anyway.” He muttered dourly before pointing at the golden crown, “It looked better on me.”
Sarya shot him a glare, but he had turned away to fill a goblet of water, which he then sat back and sipped. Seeing her look, he propped his feet up on the table and waved his fingers dismissively. “Go ahead then, lead.”
Smacking his boots off of the table, she turned to Tolath. “You may return to your duties, Champion.”
Landa arrived shortly thereafter, and the Queen repeated her request.
“Mind-witches are the root of the problem. Not the cure, Sarya.” Landa protested.
“This is no longer a request, Landa.”
Landa scowled and stepped directly in front of Imra, arms crossed.
‘Well, this will be fun,’ Imra thought before closing her eyes.
Images flashed before her. Many figures in pale garments, a shadowy room, walls of fitted stone, flickering torches in iron sconces on the walls. Faces in shadow, hoods raised, she could not make out features. Landa is walking up the steps into the palace, bassinet in her hand, tickling the young Dar with a bit of down. A hand touches her arm, and a knife is passed into her hand. As quickly as it happens, she forgets that it is been stowed beneath the bassinet. The warm sun fades to the emerald-tinted shadows of the throne room and she smiles to see Sarya in all her glory.
Imra steps back, eyes opening to Landa’s hostile glare.
<Many figures in a room made of fitted stones, lit by torches in iron sconces. She was given the knife on the steps, but the memory of it was removed until she was commanded to strike. Whoever it was that gave her the knife had to be a telepath. I’m not sure what the others represent, perhaps some sort of larger conspiracy?>
“The buildings of the capital city are made of enameled brick or wood,” Sarya mused.
“And what buildings are of quarried stone are the oldest and most important, and lit by phorescent vapor.” The Regent continued.
“They must have been close,” prompted Sarya to Imra.
<The telepath on the steps of the palace, certainly. The others could be anywhere. There is no reason that Landa, or Garth, should have any images of these others at all.>
Landa grabbed a pad off of the table and began flicking angrily through information, and finally thrust the pad in front of Imra. “The iron torches. Did they look like this?”
<Exactly like that,> Imra confirmed.
“The catacombs beneath the palace. The worms plot amidst the bones of our ancestors!” Landa exclaimed, tossing the pad to the table in front of Sarya.
“There are hundreds of chambers down there. I will have the guardsmen outfitted with scanning machines, and they will sweep the area.” Barak declared, but Sarya shook her head.
“They will be weapons in the hands of our enemies, unable to resist the compulsions. They will turn their weapons upon each other, or us. The group must move quickly, and have few people in it, people known to be resistant to their wiles,” Sarya added, pulling a saber down from the wall and handing it to Barak, before taking a second one for herself and favoring him with a grim smile. “We fight again, old friend, but on the same side this time.”
“My Queen,” Landa began, “I fear that I would be a liability, although I greatly desire to raise a blade at your side.”
“I wish that as well, Landa, but you may be right.” Taking Landa’s hand, Sarya encouraged her, “You are always wise in the ways of battle, when to pick up the blade, and when to pass it to another.”
“Champion Krinn, Champion Ardeen. Your skills will be required. We know they carry metal blades, and we know they have minds. Lead us to our enemy.” The Queen commanded.
<They know we’re down here,> Imra warned. <I can feel a mind in that direction, but it’s slippery...> she pointed, and they continued through the darkened corridors, lit only by the light shining from the Emerald Eye and an arc of electricity that burned between Garth’s upraised fingers.
The path grew clear, as the corridor was clearly recently traveled, and the torches on the wall showed signs of recent use. A large circular chamber opened up before them, and across the room, clearly awaiting their approach stood over a dozen figures, clad in robes of poor quality, hoods thrown back to reveal their pale faces. Most were adults, of various ages, but in the front stood a boy of no more than eight, his face as blank as the others.
“Which is the telepath?” the Queen demanded, and turned as Imra gasped and dropped to her knees, arms up-thrust as it to ward off assault. <They all are! Sweet mercy, they are gestalt!> Garth dropped to her side, bringing up one arm, eyes flashing.
Passionless faces stared at the intruders, and Rokk felt something press against his back and a strong arm around his neck. He could sense that Jath had pressed her blade against his back. <You will surrender.> came an echoing voice, stripped of all emotion, like the mechanical recording of some soulless chorus, <Attempt to use your powers, and you will die, Champions.>
Garth seemed frozen in place unable to move, his arm still crackling with electricity, but aimed uselessly at the floor, trembling with strain as he tried vainly to raise it towards the robed figures. Jath’s arm was like steel around Rokk’s neck. He could see several of the robed figures separate from the others and draw blades from the rack against the wall, advancing towards the Queen and Regent, both of whom had apparently fought off whatever compulsion was holding the others in thrall and raised their swords.
Rokk realized that this wasn’t a stalemate, they were already dead. The Queen and her Regent couldn’t possibly fight off all of them, and even if they could, it would take a thought for the telepaths to order Jath to kill them all…
He closed his eyes and felt the dozen metal blades in the rack, each a separate death. Praying for forgiveness, he hurled them violently into the grouped telepaths, shuddering as he heard them slam into flesh and cries of pain.
With a wet sound that traveled through him like a tremor, he felt Lydda’s arm move, and looked down to see the point of her blade protruding from his stomach, just below his ribs. Dark iron-rich blood began to seep out, and magnetic forces held him upright as he lost all sensation in his lower body.
<Rokk!> Imra cried out, <What have you done!>
He looked up to see the telepaths in chaos. At least six had fallen, blades of assorted sizes stuck deep in their guts, and the others were clutching their bellies as if they too had been hit. Garth suddenly regained control of his body and looked up to see Rokk, hanging in mid-air with a sword sticking straight through him. “Medics! Doctors! Healers! Whatever the sprock you people have, get them here, *now*!” he shouted at the shocked Regent who closed his eyes and concentrated.
“My Champions come, I have ordered them to bring every healer we have, and send for more.”
Lydda looked down at the blade in her hand. She had felt it slide home and now her hand seemed stuck to the handle. The Queen moved quickly to Rokk’s side and went to support him.
Rokk’s voice was eerily calm. “I’m fine. Help the others.” He said, and then began to wobble slightly as he lost consciousness and slumped into Sarya’s arms.
Lydda released her grip on the blade and flew back into the wall as if struck. Looking at the sight in front of her, every Warrior’s nightmare, she sank to the floor and placed her hands over her face, wishing with all her heart that this was a lie, but knowing it to be the all-too-terrible truth.
The telepathic group mind had fallen into disarray with the sudden injury to so many of its component minds, and Imra shoved them apart as quickly as she could. Some sought escape from the pain of their brethren, and she helped them, others sought to seize onto their group to help diminish their own pain, and those she had to block. Already the group-mind was regaining focus,
<They are regaining strength!> she cried out, and Sarya barked to the Regent, “Help her.” Her mentor looked at her with a questioning look, shrugging, ‘how?’ and she continued on, “You have the will of a King. Lend her your strength.” Shaking his head, he stepped forward and placed his hand upon Imra’s shoulder, closing his eyes and trying desperately to recall the calming clarity of thought that came from the whispered teachings of his ancestors.
“Jath!” Sarya barked, to no immediate reply, “Jath!” Jath’s head only shook in denial, her face still buried in her palms. Making sure that Garth had a grip on Rokk, Sarya lifted her hand from Rokk’s torso, where she had been attempting to stem the flow of blood and pulled the Kathooni warrior from the floor in a sudden motion. Thrusting her blood-soaked hand into Jath’s face she pulled her to her mate. “Place your hand here,” Sarya commanded, grabbing Jath’s hand and placing it over the wound. “Hold him, as he held you.”
Sarya looked at Garth meaningfully. “You must stop the bleeding. There is no time.” And then she turned and stepped over to Imra, to place her hand upon her Regent’s, and lend the mental strength of the Queen of Venegar to the silent battle transpiring.
“Jath, you’re stronger than I am. You’ve got to pull the sword out fast and clean.”
“He will bleed the faster,” she protested, unwilling to even look down at the blade.
“I’ll take care of that. Just do it!” he said. ‘It’s a good thing you’re unconscious buddy,’ he thought as Jath steeled herself and tore the blade from Rokk’s body, hurling it behind her with such force that the blade snapped against the wall with a sound like a gunshot. Garth gritted his teeth and stuck his fingers into the wound, delivering a sudden jolt of current, and again to the hole in his back, attempting to cauterize the bleeding.
Jath caught the edge of the current, but stood firm. Rokk’s body had jerked with each shock, but hung limply now, and she looked up, “You have stopped his heart!”
Garth put his hand to Rokk’s neck, and was reassured to feel a slow pulse. “No Jath. I don’t think anything can stop that heart.”
Long minutes passed before Garth heard a thundering sound coming down the staircase behind them, and two of the aged former Champions stumbled into the room, an even older figure clad only in a nightrobe supported between them, having not touched a single stair in their precipitous descent. Behind them, a dozen more figures could be seen, some armored, and others more commonly dressed, and often being dragged forcefully down the stairs by the rushing warriors.
Sarya looked up, her brow furrowed with concentration at the older man who had just been brought into the room. “You will tend to my Champion,” she said, pointing at Rokk. “Everybody else, tend to these others.”
The Royal Chirurgeon did not bother to acknowledge his Queen, already examining Rokk’s wound and shouting to the warriors behind him to hand him various items that they had hastily grabbed from his supplies.
“Three of the injured could not be saved, my Queen,” reported the Chirurgeon.
“Including…” she asked with a nod for discretion, nodding towards her sleeping Champion.
“That one as well, Highness.”
“And my Champion, what of his condition?”
“He will live, but the blade cleanly severed his spinal column. We do not have the science to repair that sort of damage. He will not walk again, not without alien medicine.”
Rokk opened his eyes to see Lydda asleep next to him, holding onto his hand in a bruising grip, even in her sleep. He propped one of his legs while adjusting and the doctor rushed over, “This is impossible! Your legs cannot move, your spine was severed! I but sealed it together with laser-light!”
Sarya placed her hand upon her Chirurgeon, “Clearly it *is* possible, for this Champion.”
“Where are the others?” Rokk asked wearily.
“The remaining telepaths required sedation. Champion Ardeen sits with them, and Champion Ranzz sits with her.”
“How many,” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“Three died,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What about that kid, in the front row?” Rokk asked, dreading the answer.
“Your blades struck the stomach, which is why so many lived when they should have died. The child was struck in the throat, and his death was swift.” Sarya admitted, placing her hand upon Rokk’s shoulder when he tried to get up protesting, waking Jath in the process. “You will lie still.” The Queen ordered, looking to Jath. “If he moves, he may bring injury to himself. Do not let him move.”
The Queen quickly walked away, and Rokk found that he couldn’t budge with Jath’s hand firmly planted in the center of his chest, and when he looked to her, she looked away. “Jath, let me up. I need to see.”
“No. There is nothing to see. Some have lived, some have died. That part is over.”
“Jath.” Rokk began, before looking to see that they were alone for the moment, “Lydda…”
Her face turned towards him suddenly, “You would still call me by that name, even after…” her voice trailed off as she looked at the bandages below where her hand rest.
“I don’t blame you for that!” he protested.
“’Do not blame the blade. Blame the arm that wields the blade.’” Lydda said, quoting some Kathooni aphorism.
Reaching up, he rested his hand against her face, turning it to face his own, “’Do not blame the arm, blame the *mind* that directs the arm.’” Seeing her look, “That wasn’t *your* mind. It was their mind. Minds. Whatever. They used you to hurt me. I don’t blame you.”
Lydda rested her head on his chest and Rokk was chilled to hear her murmur, “I wish you had killed them all, not just three.”
<There are too many of them Highness. We can’t keep them sedated forever, and we certainly can’t keep them sedated all the way to Titan.>
“This is the only way? You cannot have your people come here to treat them?”
<Most of my people wouldn’t leave Titan for any reason. No, they need to be taken to Titan and their minds reconstructed. They aren’t even people right now, they’re just… parts in a machine. The older ones, there should be a good chance that our psychologists can pick out their memories and remove them from the others, help them become individuals again. The younger ones, who have spent their entire lives as part of the gestalt, they will have to have lives *created* for them. Fake lives, with fake memories. They don’t have any of their own.>
“The child that died?”
Imra looked downcast. <I hate that we won’t even have the chance to try, but I don’t think he would ever be able to become a person. Even with fake memories, he would be too damaged to function independently. I doubt he’d ever had a thought of his own. He was a puppet, and outside of the gestalt, his strings cut, he’d just lie there. He’d have to be fed and bathed and cared for like, like a pet.>
“You need rest. You have been here for hours, child.” The Queen said, brushing Imra’s hair out of her face as her head sagged.
<I can’t. I have to stay here for them. They are reaching out for each other, and if I don’t block them, they will reconnect. They are so scared, so lonely. If I wasn’t here to soothe them, I don’t know what they’d do.>
His voice thundered to his assembled Champions. “Every village, every town, every tribe has a wise-woman, an old man on the hill, a clever child who always knows the answers to the riddles. Find them. We must locate every one of these mind-witches. They will hide from you, and attempt to deceive you, for they have never fared well among our people, but the Queen calls them to service now. Go, start in the towns of your birth, where your friends and families will know the local lore. Find them and bring them here.”
Over the next day, people flooded into the rooms, some old, some young, and Imra would look at them and nod, “Yes. Please sit here and hold this man’s hand.” or shake her head, “No. He is a charlatan, send him home.”
Finally, Imra was able to rest, enough of the rare Venegarian ‘mind-witches’ having been rounded up to give her a few hours of sleep. When she woke, the Chirurgeon was waiting for her, along with Garth, and they led her to the doctor’s work-chambers, where she saw a small body under a sheet. <Is that?>
“Yeah. We thought you needed to see this.” Garth said, as the doctor folded back the sheet to reveal a small incision in front of the boy’s skull, that had been hidden by his hair.
<Sweet Memories! They’ve been here, too?>
“We have examined the others. The other two who perished did not have these marks, but of the eleven survivors, five have also been operated upon in this fashion. I have peered into the boy’s skull with an imager,” the doctor said, draping the sheet back over the dead boys head. “A small portion of his brain has been removed, and your fellow Champion tells me it is this region that governs your mind-speech.”
<Garth, these people, they’re afraid. I sensed that. They didn’t want to be alone, they were *terrified* of being alone. I think that this is why. Someone, or something, is preying on them, and they’ve banded together out of self-defense. They just got lost in it, banded together so tightly that they couldn’t break apart again…>
“If you’re right, maybe we can find out if the ones that were targeted were publicly known to be ‘mind-witches.’ If the locals knew that someone was a telepath, whoever-it-is might have been able to find them. It would explain why they were hiding in the catacombs, covering their faces, anyway…” Garth theorized.
<Doctor, when was this surgery performed?> Imra asked.
“At least a year ago. His skull had grown since the incision. I will check the others as well.” he said, grabbing a scanner and heading out.
The trip to Titan was crowded, as the Queen had ordered the other ‘mind-witches’ to also make the journey, assuring them that their homes and duties would be attended to in their absence. Imra had convinced her that allowing them to remain untrained in the ways of telepathy was a major factor in the formation of the dangerous group-mind. Sarya agreed that the ‘mind-witches’ needed to be taught to use the weapons that they had been born with, and most of her subjects agreed, ‘though few were happy to be leaving their home-world for an extended period.
No amount of discretion could contain the secret, and within hours of docking at Titan station, it seemed that the entire colony knew the full story, and Imra felt a tiny twinge of regret at the possible panicked reaction of her fellow telepaths scattered across the United Planets. Still, she would rather they lose a few months of their lives safely on their home-world than suffer such an assault on some distant world.
Reyu met her as she arrived, and thanked her for not giving up on the search, and did not seem concerned that she had stumbled upon these new victims by accident. As part of his own therapy, he had negotiated to be able to assist in the treatment of these new arrivals, and while the weary Champions returned to Earth, and the Embassy, he kept in touch with Imra daily, sharing new reports of the information pieced together from many minds.
<The common image is of a male figure, always in shadows, no matter where the light source is in the room. His hand rests upon their chest, pinning them with relentless force, and it is a hand clad in cold metal. They got no mental contact through the metal hand, except for one. A young woman reported that his other hand, one that was not gloved in metal, but warm and of flesh, brushed against her, and she got a fleeting glimpse of a mind that was more like a machine than a man.> Reyu sent.
<That’s all?> Imra asked, disappointed.
<Unfortunately, yes. Whoever is doing this is keeping his thoughts, and his appearance, to himself. I do wonder, why isn’t he just killing the, *us,* after he is done? Why leave potential witnesses?>
<A trail of dead telepaths would have been noticed long before now, especially if their heads had been cut open. We know that he’s been operating for at least a year, gathering his samples, and picking on people who live in hiding, like the Venegarian mind-witches, means that no crime was even reported, until you...>, Imra thought bleakly. Reyu said his good-byes and closed the connection, leaving Imra brooding alone in the dark.
[ March 11, 2007, 07:13 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
200 quatloos to the first person who guesses who is stealing telepath brains and what he's doing with them. (Guess one, and the other should be obvious.)
Call in the next five minutes, and I'll throw in this complimentary No-Prize!
[ March 09, 2007, 12:20 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
“Venegarian. Ha! Medicine. Ha! Two words that do not belong in the same sentence!” Dr. Gym’ll grumbled. “Cauterization! All this damage I must repair! Savages. Myelin sheath sealed with laser-fire! Did they not have a plasma rifle handy in their medical arsenal? Perhaps an electron pulse grenade? Simple bio-adhesive, and all is well, but no, all these cells are scorched away and must be regrown from scratch. My fee will be astronomical, of course.” Dr. Gym’ll held a micro-scanner in one hand, and a spray-dispenser in the other, working on Rokk’s back while his third arm gesticulated wildly with a data-pad.
“They did their best Doctor,” Rokk began, but Dr. Gym’ll would hear none of it.
“I was not talking to you, Braalian. Be quiet or I will sedate you.” Rokk quieted down, not feeling like spending yet more time unconscious this week.
Looking at his pad, the Doctor continued ranting, “Green light therapy! Superstitious spawn of apes! Back to the trees with the lot of you.”
Lydda helped Rokk walk back to their room, while Garth and Imra tagged along, having accompanied Rokk to the med-center (and all-but physically restrained Jath whenever Rokk yelped in the next room).
“Well,” said Rokk. “Thanks for tagging along guys. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
“Just once, can we end a mission without one of us needing regen treatments?” Garth muttered to Imra.
<Speak for yourself. I’ve never gotten all beaten up.> Imra teased, but looked up as Rokk and Jath both shot her alarmed looks. <What?>
“You invite disaster by tempting the gods, Champion Ardeen.” Jath said seriously.
Rokk nodded sagely, “It is the jinx to end all jinxes, Imra.”
Imra just raised her hand, <Superstitious nonsense! Get some sleep.>
She turned and Garth was looking at her with concern.
<Not you too!>
Garth smiled and looked to Rokk, “Later man,” and then to Jath, nodding towards Rokk, “Play nice. He’s fragile.”
“I’ll show you fragile. Next week, I’ll put you out like the dog you are.”
Garth shot his hands up and dashed behind Imra, “Ooh, scary man is being mean to me. Beat him up for me, hon!”
Rokk grinned, “Hey, don’t go there Ranzz, my girlfriend will totally beat up your girlfriend.”
“Hmm. Good point,” Garth said before noticing Imra’s shoulders tense as she whirled to face him, and his hand shot up in front of his mouth.
<What!> Garth put his other hand in front of his mouth, as if this would somehow help. <Oh no she can’t. Garth! Oh no she can’t!!> Garth chose the better part of valor and fell back, activating his Champion’s Ring and taking off down the hall.
<Get back here!> Imra demanded, in hot pursuit.
Lydda ushered Rokk into their room. “I have been looking forward to this,” she said with a smile.
Lydda was clad in an outfit that consisted of a sports bra and short shorts, as well as her requisite goggles. She stood arms crossed, looking bored. Imra was wearing her usual full workout bodysuit, and was shadowboxing and shuffling her feet around.
“Okay, the sun-lamps are set precisely to block Jath’s enhanced strength, but not weaken her below Kathooni normal standards. You all set Imra?” Rokk asked, checking a hand-scanner to make sure that the lights weren’t actually hurting Jath.
<<Yes,>> came Imra’s voice over the Champion’s Ring. <<The platinum-group head-gear is blocking my telepathy. No powers, as agreed.>>
“Aaaaannnd, in the green corner!” Garth announced, “Weighing just over,” he paused checking his pad, eyebrows raised, before continuing, “seventy-five kilograms, Jath of Clan Genti!” Jath just looked up, having heard her name spoken and Rokk raised his arms and cheered, wincing slightly, “Yay!”
“Aaaanndd, in the, uh, *other* green corner, weighing in at,” Garth froze as Imra shot him a glare, “some very, very small number, *much* less than seventy-five kilos, Imra Ardeen of Titan!”
“Wait,” said Jath, looking curious, “Is there some significance to these numbers?”
Avoiding certain death, Garth quickly clapped his hands and shouted, “Fight!”
Fourteen seconds later, pinned to the ground and unable to move anything but a single arm, Imra tapped out.
<<It was a lucky fluke. I’m prepared now.>>
Thirty seconds later…
<<Okay, I think I’ve got this.>>
Seven seconds later…
<<Fine! Whoever agreed to no powers! This is ridiculous, fighting a telepath without telepathy would be like fighting one of you with your eyes closed.>>
“I accept your challenge,” Lydda said promptly, reaching for her protective goggles.
<<Wait! No, you win…>> Imra conceded, pulling the helmet off of her head. <I am so done. I’m just going to lie here and see if I can find any of my pride down here in the cracks between the mats…>
“So,” said Jath, “Champion Ardeen trains you in fighting because she is best? I think *I* should train you in fighting now.”
“No!”
<No!>
“Honey, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” said Queen Sarya, entering the room in an enormous green cloak that concealed her from view. Casting it to one side, she was again in her workout clothes, and bearing a pair of amber-hued dueling blades made of dull duraplast. Tossing one to Jath, she moved out onto the mat.
Jath caught the flexible mock-up of a sword, and whipped it through the air experimentally. “These will raise stinging welts,” she announced to the Queen.
“Avoid getting hit then.” The Queen said, raising her own blade in a fencer’s salute. “On your guard. Begin!”
Two minutes later, Jath’s body had several red lines showing where she had been hit, while the Queen’s bodysuit concealed any similar marks on her person, neither showed sign of backing down.
Rokk turned to Jath’s fighting clothes, against the wall and fished out a knife. “One blade of steel on Jath.” Garth looked dubiously at Rokk, and he added, “She won’t miss it, she’s got a million of ‘em.”
<Gambling is addictive and serves no useful function.> Imra thought disapprovingly, still lying flat on her back, head tilted to watch the duel.
“50 credits on the Queen,” Garth decided.
<Garth! What did I just say?>
“I don’t know, weren’t you listening either?” Garth asked innocently.
Finally the duel ended, Sarya the victor, ‘though she was breathing heavily by that time.
“You fight well,” Jath grudgingly admitted.
“You fight amazingly well, Jath, considering that I’ve spent decades mastering the sword, and, under these lights, I’m stronger than you.”
“The fight would have ended much sooner, had I fought you as you were twenty years ago,” Jath admitted.
The Queen shook her head. “Well certainly, I would have been but a child.” She said haughtily, stepping to snatch up her cloak.
“A child,” Jath said with a scoff, missing Rokk’s frantic hand-waving for her attention. “But you are over fifty earth-years old!”
The Queen’s eyes shot open. “Jath!” she said sharply, only to regain her composure. “Well fought.” She conceded before sweeping out a bit too abruptly.
Jath’s brow furrowed as she looked to the Champions. Garth was trying to suppress a laugh behind his hand, but looked like he was choking instead, Rokk had his head in his hands and Imra was sipping her water, eyebrows raised. “What? It is in the Embassy biography. Sarya, Queen of Venegar, born in the year of Shining Water. She is fifty-two Earth years old.”
[ March 10, 2007, 12:29 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Monkey Eater Lad on :
The emerald-eyed version of my Great Darkness pic: Original: Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, chapter sixteen “Rokkfall” – the events on Venegar have unexpected repercussions
Rokk tossed down the pad, severing the connection to Dr. Gym’ll and ending the one-sided ‘conversation’ that had been taking place. Of all the doctors Rokk had seen in the endless parade of specialists called in to deal with his ‘unique condition,’ Dr. Gym’ll had been the first to offer a conflicting hypothesis. To the three-armed curmudgeon, *every* patient was unique, since none of his patients had a physiology or biochemistry similar to himself. Instead of looking at it from a Braalian perspective, he had seen a larger picture, and it wasn’t a pretty one.
<What does that mean? Will you lose your powers? Will you lose your…> Imra’s mental voice trailed off, but it was clear that she meant his mobility.
“He doesn’t know. All he knows is that the contamination of the ferrous hydraxaline when by spinal cord was severed is causing it to break down into ferrous annaline. He says that it *should* interfere with my magnetic powers, but he also says that I shouldn’t be walking anyway, that the ferrous hydraxaline was never enough to replace an entire nervous system.”
“But all those experts on Braal have to know more about Braalian physiology and, uh, magno-physiology, than him?”
“I asked him the same thing, when he let me get a word in edgewise, and he said that they were too close to the problem, too used to thinking in only one set paradigm.” Rokk said. “Well, he also called them all sorts of names in the process, but that’s the jist of it.”
<Is this more than a theory? I mean the evidence is that you *are* walking, and that your powers are stronger than ever. So just based on the evidence, the Braalian doctors are right, no matter how many names he wants to call them.> Imra added, clearly frustrated, and taking it out on the tactless little doctor.
“He pointed to the various studies published by the Braalian doctors. He *did* read them all, before even working with me. Not a single one of them had any explanation at all for why I could still feel pain. For why I could still see, and hear, and taste. I don’t have optic nerves. I don’t have tactile nerves. Even the sensory nerves in my nose are gone. Whatever sort of magnetic manipulation I could do to my muscles wouldn’t let me *smell,* would it? It wouldn’t let me feel pain,” he said, smacking his hand down hard on the table and flexing his fingers.
“So, it’s a mystery, but a good one, right? If your body doesn’t need this ferrous hydraxaline, does it matter what it degrades into? I mean, is this ferrous annaline stuff bad?” Garth asked.
“No. It’s pretty much inert,” Rokk conceded, “and Gym’ll says that the degradation is moving along slowly. It should take years before it’s run its course.”
“So, I don’t want to sound like I’m making light of it, but it doesn’t sound like a problem, really…”
“It just got me thinking of something that the Kathooni Ambassador said. I thought she was trying to scare me or something, but she knew a lot of things that she shouldn’t have.” Rokk said, still flexing his fingers absently, as if wondering if he would still be able to do this simple thing.
<She’s a Seer, right? They have some belief that they are connected to the minds of their ancestors, or something.>
“I don’t think it’s just a superstition, Imra. We’ve seen what Jath can do, and she insists that it’s because she’s calling on the strength of her ancestors, and that sunlight blocks her connection to them. She spends an hour or more a day going over those metal discs she wears as a belt. Each of them has the name and a poem about some long-dead Warrior, and she sits there reciting stories to herself about their exploits. She says that if she doesn’t honor them, they won’t lend her their strength when she needs it.”
<I’m not sure this isn’t simply a psychological tool that they use to help focus their abilities, Rokk. Just like how magno-ball players will point at the ball with their hand, even ‘though they don’t need to do anything of the sort.>
“In any case, the Seer definitely knew stuff she shouldn’t have. She could just be a telepath for all I know, but she told me that she didn’t see me as a Braalian. She saw me as half-flesh and half-energy, and said that I was a hint of the future, a time when ‘the children of Earth’ would ‘abandon the flesh’ and ‘sour the stars on wings of spirit.’”
“It sound poetic, but is that even possible? Isn’t your magnetic field anchored in the iron in your body, enhanced by all that mag-steel you wear?”
“I don’t know anymore. If so much of what made me able to manipulate magnetism is gone, why am I even better at it?”
Imra had fallen silent, but finally ‘spoke’ up, <Rokk, you told us that a church on your world believed that your people had somehow fused with the energy creatures that used to live on Braal. Could this be related to what the Seer said?>
“I don’t see how, Imra. It’s a neat theory, but I think it was just whipped up to cover any residual guilt over our arrival spelling the end of their species, and maybe even to make the believers feel less like intruders and more like they have somehow ‘become’ part of the world.”
Garth perked up, “Yeah, I thought of that, and it comes back to thermodynamics. Energy, magnetic or not, can’t be created or destroyed. The creatures have been gone for centuries, and new Braalians are born every day, with magnetic powers getting stronger every generation. If it was some sort of energy-fusion thing between the races, the Braalian children would have stopped being born with powers when the last of the energy creatures died out.”
<But he also said that the storms had mysteriously subsided as well. I wonder…> Imra thought and pulled a pad over the table and began working out something.
“Stand back,” Garth said, scooting away from Imra with his hands in the air, “Genius at work.”
Rokk leaned over to see what she was doing, but the columns of numbers were moving too quickly. He was pretty sure that meteorological data and census records were involved.
<There.>, she thought, pushing the pad in front of Rokk. <The numbers aren’t perfect, but the decline of the storms has shown a definite correlation with the birthrate. The more of the planetary magnetosphere is ‘bound up’ in the living Braalian population, the less is rampaging around wreaking havoc. Right now the storms have retreated to the polar regions, and over 40% of Braals surface is habitable. If the projection is valid, within a couple thousand years, Braal’s storms will be gone entirely, and *then,* Braal is going to have a problem, as the newer generations will start having weaker and weaker magnetosystems.”
“Not to burst your bubble, hon, but Braal’s been around for centuries, and I’m sure someone would have noticed this correlation.” Garth said gently.
<But this is *new* data. A thousand Braalian scientists didn’t have the example of Rokk to consider, or access to Ambassador Marin’s theory. Think about it Rokk. What if the energy within you *isn’t* as connected to your physical self as your people like to believe. What if the reason that you can walk and see and feel is because the energy is self-sufficient, and allowing you to replicate your body’s functions?”
“Okay, time out,” Garth said, crossing his hands. “One second you’re like, ‘Marin’s a fraud,’ and the next you’re like, ‘Rokk’s an energy-form.’” He shook his head. “Pick one!”
<I reacted to the idea of Marin’s superstitions being correct, and I’m still not convinced, but if there’s one thing you keep beating me over the head with Garth is that not everything in this universe needs to be analyzed and boxed up and put away. Marin’s a mystery, and I’ll leave it at that for now, but her words make sense to me. Just about everyone on Titan believes that we will eventually transcend our bodies, and become pure thought. Our ‘energy-selves’ will be psionic in nature, not magnetic, but the principle is the same.> Imra’s mental voice was excited, and she clearly found the idea appealing.
Garth attempted to lighten the situation, “So you guys aren’t going to ‘transcend into energy’ any time soon, right? ‘Cause I’d get lonely.”
Rokk smiled, “I’m for putting it off as long as possible. I’m pretty sure Jath would dump me…”
<Speaking of Jath?>
“She wanted to ‘challenge’ herself. She put on her skinsuit, sunblock, sungoggles and is out jogging. In broad daylight…”
“Won’t that kill her?” Garth exclaimed.
“No. If the sunlight doesn’t touch her skin, she’s fine. Just unable to use her strength. And with the goggles on, blocking out 99% of the visible spectrum, she should be able to see okay as well.”
<I’m surprised you aren’t with her, just in case.>
“She insisted on doing this herself, and I had the call from Gym’ll coming up, so I didn’t press it.” Rokk said, looking at the pad again and poking at it absently.
<She doesn’t know yet, does she?>
Rokk snorted. “Uh, no. ‘Hey honey, remember when you stabbed me in the back? Well, it set off a chain-reaction that’s tearing through my body and might leave me a cripple, or I could turn into an energy-ghost and haunt you, we’re not sure yet. Whadja bring me for dinner?’”
“Ouch.” Garth sympathized.
<Oh Rokk, I can’t even think of anything reassuring to say. That’s going to be a hard conversation…>, Imra folded her cloak around herself and held her arms. <Why is this planet so damn cold all the time.> she thought suddenly and got up and left.
“Okay, that’s my cue to go,” Garth said, eyebrows raised as he hurried out the door.
“Hon?” Garth called out as he let himself into Imra’s room. The telepath was huddled on her bed, holding he knees, head down. <Come in already.>
He made sure to close the security door behind him, and noticed that the room’s temperature settings were set high enough to make sweat bead out almost instantly.
“What’s wrong,” he said, sitting down and taking her shoulders in his hands. She looked up at first, and then folded up against his chest.
<I can’t seem to warm up. The walls are too far away, and I know it’s all in my head, but it just makes me feel cold. The only time I feel warm…> she paused and he rubbed her back, not wanting to press, <when your asleep.>
‘Not what I was expecting,’ Garth thought, but let her continue at her own pace.
<I sit awake, reading a pad, and your arm is over me, and I feel warm. I can turn up the heat until I’m sweating, wear all sorts of clothing and this damn Ring is supposed to keep me warm in *outer space,* and I still get chills.>
“We could put in a divider, make the bedroom a smaller sub-unit…” Garth began.
<It’s not just that. I didn’t get chills like this before the Mindfire den. And they just got worse after Reyu told me about the surgery. And now all those telepaths on Venegar? It’s like the universe is getting colder every day. I know it’s all in my head, and I’m the big telepath, with years of training at dealing with this stuff, but it’s too close. I can’t seem to shake it, Garth. I’m losing my focus.>
“Hey,” Garth said, pulling her close and looking directly into large pale-blue eyes, “We’ll find this bastard, and put him away forever.”
<Reyu said he ‘took’ from him, and I feel like he’s already ‘taken’ from me. I’m having trouble concentrating, I’m having trouble relaxing enough to enjoy even simple things like this,> she thought, stroking his face, <and Rokk is back there feeling his entire life burning away, and I can’t even keep focus long enough to help him, so scared of what *could* happen, of some unknown shadow-man that I’m losing track of what’s really happening, of what I should be concentrating on.>
Garth stroked her hair, “I’ve been kind of jealous of you two, having powers that are such a part of you. Mine just got tacked on, and I didn’t have a couple hundred years of culture or tradition or specialized training to fall back on. But now I feel guilty. There aren’t any drugs designed to make my powers work better, at a cost to my health. There aren’t any predators out there looking for the ‘lightning-people of Winath’…”
<I always saw it that way, too. I wondered if you were scared, the first time lightning shot out of your hands, and if you couldn’t turn it on, or turn it off. Then I saw Mekt, and realized that even if there wasn’t a race of ‘lightning-people’ at least you didn’t have to go through it completely alone.>
“Ayla, too. All three of us.”
Imra pulled back and looked up into his face, <Someday you’re going to tell me.>
“And spoil the mystery?” Garth said smiling, before his face turned more serious. “After all this build-up, the story itself is pretty dull. I’m just keeping it mysterious to make it seem more interesting than it is.”
<You’re not going to tell me, are you,> she said with a pout.
The figure dropped her backpack just inside the open doorway of the Embassy. “Hello?” she called out to the empty reception area. ‘Great. No doors. No door*men.*’ “Is anybody home?”
A robotic receptionist bobbed up from behind a counter on the far wall. *Welcome to the Venegarian Mission to Earth. The Ambassador, Queen Sarya, has a full schedule today, but if you would like to make an appointment, please leave your name, a contact ID and the purpose of your visit, and I’ll see when I can pencil you in.*
‘Great. The answering machine.’ She thought. “Whatever, sparky. I’m looking for one of her so-called ‘Champions,’” she said, with much sarcastic focus on the last word. “My name is Ayla Ranzz.”
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, chapter seventeen “A tale of three Ranzzes” – another family reunion, with 250% less property damage
Garth settled down onto the mattress with a contented sigh, already sinking into sleep, arm draped possessively over Imra’s slender form, his sun-freckled arm contrasting sharply with her flawless ivory skin.
<<Champion Ranzz.>> came the Queen’s crisp voice through the Champion’s Ring. <<You have a guest, please report to the audience chamber.>>
“Sprock.” Garth said as Imra’s mental voice tinkled with laughter in his mind. “No rest for the wicked,” he said with a grin, turning to steal another kiss.
<Go,> Imra thought, pushing him gently but firmly away, with a matching grin, <Don’t keep the Queen waiting.>
Garth stepped into the bathroom and freshened up, before slipping into his Champion’s Garb and heading out, blowing Imra another kiss before cycling the door shut.
He could hear voices talking in the audience chamber, and came in to found Sarya crouching next to her robot dinosaur, talking to a pair of legs belonging to someone who had crawled under it and was fiddling with the controls.
“It was built for war?” the Queen was asking dubiously.
“Not military so much, as designed for gladiatorial matches with other giant robots. It’s an annual thing they have out in the desert areas of this continent. Nevada, I think. A bunch of geeks get together and throw giant robots against each other,” the voice was muffled, but Garth was struck with recognition.
“Ayla?!?” Garth shouted, rushing over and dragging the figure out from under the machine, only to see a hand upthrust, crackling with rose-tinted electrical energies.
The Queen stepped back quickly as Ayla rose to her feet, hand still crackling with energy. Garth just looked puzzled, pushing her arm aside and folding her in a massive hug that lifted her from the ground.
“It’s so great to see you! When did you get here? How long are you staying?” Garth begin to say all in a rush while spinning around.
“Garth!” Ayla shouted in a strained voice, “Garth! Put. Me. Down!”
Garth set her down, but kept his hands on her shoulders, repeating, “It’s so great to see you.” Reaching up and brushing her cheek, so much slenderer than his own, but still having the same strong lines. “You look good,” he said softly.
Ayla’s hand had stopped glowing and she looked angry and confused, “I’ve commed and commed, and you never sprocking answer,” she pulled away and smacked Garth on the shoulder, “And now you’re all, ‘I’m so glad to see you!’ like nothing happened! Like you never left us! Like you never left *me!*”
Garth was suddenly aware that Rokk, Jath and Imra had flown into the room.
“Uh, no emergency, just family stuff,” Garth said, hands in the air, stepping in-between Ayla and his friends.
“I called them when I saw the lightning.” The Queen said dryly. “The last Ranzz family reunion set fire to the Talokkian Embassy…”
“Yeah, we should probably take this somewhere else.”
“An excellent idea,” agreed the Queen, “Perhaps your quarters,” she suggested, “assuming that you still remember where they are after all this time.”
Garth flinched slightly, and turned to a distracted Ayla, who was staring at the new arrivals. “Hey, how about we go somewhere a little more private before you kill me for being a rotten brother?”
“Huh?” Ayla said blinking. “Yeah, sure.” Pointing to Rokk, she asked, “Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Kid Cosmos?”
Rokk smiled, and raised his arms in triumph, mimicking the most famous image of him, after his second victory as planetary champion. “Yeah. I get that a lot. Want an autograph?”
“You *are* him!” Ayla said. “Wow. I had your holo on the wall.” Her face darkened, and “Well, until the scandal, and then Dad said that you weren’t an ‘appropriate role-model’ and made me change it.”
Garth took her arm. “We have to leave now, before you tell my best friend that you had a crush on him.”
Ayla took her arm back, “Who said ‘had?’ He’s still hot.”
Rokk grinned and stepped to the side, “Nice to meet you, Ayla. And this is my wife, Jath.”
Ayla snapped her fingers, “Darn. The good ones are always taken.”
Rokk looked to Jath, who was fingering a short sword-sized blade idly, “She doesn’t mean anything by it, honey.”
Jath shot him an impatient look. “She admires you. What of it? She pays me a compliment by praising my choice. If we on Kathoon, I would make you wear less clothing and have you accompany me everywhere.” Rokk’s eyes shot wide as she finished. “I would get many compliments.”
Garth said from behind his hand, “Can we please leave now, before the trauma becomes irreversible?”
“Yes, please,” added the Queen, who had settled herself back on her throne and was reading a pad. “That wasn’t a request.”
“So,” Ayla said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “This is your room.” Smacking her hand on the bed and bringing up a small puff of dust, she grinned, “And that’s what the Queen meant about you not remembering where it was…”
Garth just shook his head. “Yeah, I’m staying with Imra, the one who isn’t married to Kid Cosmos.”
“Not with the Queen? I was wondering…” Ayla commented.
“Sprock, no! She’d kill me.” Garth said, before walking up behind Ayla, who was running her hand along the shelf, picking up more dust. “Let’s stop saying useless stuff. I screwed up, Ayla. I got scared, and I ran away and left you deal with all sorts of crap that I should have been there to help you deal with.”
“Yeah, we agree on that, at least.” Ayla muttered angrily. “I didn’t even know where you sprocking were until I saw the newsfeeds of you and Mekt blowing up the Talokkian Embassy.”
“We did not ‘blow up’ the Talokkian Embassy. It was only a few small fires and they put them out pretty fast,” Garth began. “And I’m changing the topic, again,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, that’s what you do best, isn’t it, Garth? Run away.” Ayla demanded, “Is that what you’re going to do to your new girlfriend? Bail on her the second it gets tough? The second she isn’t exactly who you want her to be?”
“Look, I know I screwed up, and I don’t want to mess up again. Can’t you just give me a sprocking chance here?”
“Give you a chance? Right! My life is going sideways, we’ve got lightning shooting out of our hands, Mekt is sprocking nuts, ranting about how the weather control service is unnatural and must be destroyed, and you’re *gone!* The farm’s totaled, our folks are freaking…” Ayla ranted, not hearing Garth’s intake of breath.
“What do you mean the farm’s totaled?” Garth demanded.
“What? You don’t even know? It’s gone. We had to move to Chaba province…”
“Why is it gone? Are mom and dad okay?”
“Yes, they ran out of the house when the lightning started flying. Mekt was on one of his tears, and he blew up the silo. We lost the second harvest, and I tried to distract him while mom and dad got clear, but we both ended up destroying the house, and shutting down the power-grid over the county.”
Ayla had leant against the wall, arms folded and Garth wanted to go to her, but knew that she was still too angry to accept any comfort from him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. He was just too strong. He kept trying to convince me that we were the avatars of the storm or some crap and that it is was our sacred destiny to free Winath from the weather control service. He said the storms would bless only the righteous with rain, and strike down the unworthy, as nature intended. He knocked me out and bailed. Mom saw him drive off. Dad had gone for help, and mom ended up running into the house to pull me out before it collapsed.”
“Chaba province? What’s there?” Garth asked.
“A farm that isn’t burnt to the ground. The government resettled them, called it ‘disaster relief,’ and gave them some land that had been left behind by a family that had resettled off-world.” Ayla looked up, eyes veiled. “But Chaba province is in the boonies. It’s all naturists and their damn religion. Turns out they think that changing your gender is unnatural and defying the natural order. So we couldn’t get any hands to help us with the harvest, because they didn’t want to be seen around me.”
“I’m sorry, Ayla.”
“No big deal. Same sort of attitude I had to deal with from you,” she said bitterly.
“It’s not the same at all!” Garth shouted, getting right in her face. “You didn’t trust me. The biggest thing *ever* is going on with you, and I had to find out with everyone else, when you got caught sneaking Pro-fem! Yeah, I messed up, but you didn’t even give me a chance to get it right!”
“Maybe I knew you’d freak!” Ayla shouted back. “*I* was freaking out about it, the last thing I wanted to do was try to talk *you* ‘through it! It’s not enough that we shared everything, I could tell that you weren’t like me anymore, and that you’d never feel what I was feeling. We couldn’t share this, Garth!”
Garth again resisted the urge to hold her, putting his hand on the wall next to her and leaning close. “So why come here?”
The anger drained away and Ayla lowered her head. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.” After a deep breath she continued, “You left. Then Mekt freaked out and destroyed everything, and we didn’t hear anything from him until we saw the news-reports. By then we were trying to start all over in Chaba, but the naturists were making it hard, and I realized that I had to go. Mom and dad would never be able to hire enough hands to run the farm with me there, so I just followed the family tradition and ran away.”
Garth finally reached out and placed his hand on the side of her face, turning it to face his. “No. I ran away. You ran to me. That’s way smarter than what I did,” he smiled, pointing at the disused bed. “I happen to know a place where they’ve got an extra room…”
“I don’t think your Queen would approve.” Ayla said doubtfully.
“Please. She’s spent a star-cruiser worth of money outfitting Rokk with mag-steel and Imra with psi-metal. I totally rate an extra room,” with a grin he added, “And, if you program her pet dinosaur to attack people that piss her off? You’ll be her best friend.”
Ayla looked up, resting her hand on her brothers chest. “You know we aren’t square right? I’ve never felt so, so lost. I always felt bad for Mekt, all alone, but I never in my worst nightmares thought I would know what that felt like.”
“I screwed up real bad.” Garth admitted. “And you’re gonna have to give me the rest of our lives to make up for it, okay?”
“So you also throw lightning, like your brothers?” Jath asked matter-of-factly, around a mouthful of kabba fruit.
“Yeah.” Said Ayla, feeling vaguely uncomfortable sitting with Garth’s friends.
“A useful talent.” Jath grunted, spitting out seeds and reaching for another fruit.
“So,” Ayla said towards Imra, hoping to stave off another uncomfortable silence, “You and Garth, huh?”
<Yes,> Imra thought with a smile. <We complement each other well.>
“So, a Titanian telepath, a Braalian sports-star and a, uh, Kathooni was it?” Jath just nodded. “Warrior woman. I guess that makes Garth the odd-man out, since you guys all naturally have powers…”
Rokk cut in smoothly, “Jath also received her abilities later in life, but there are hundreds of Warriors like herself back on Kathoon.” He looked sideways at his friend, biting his tongue.
Looking around at the Champions, Ayla noticed the matching wary looks of curiosity on Rokk and Imra’s faces, and how Garth was avoiding meeting them. “He hasn’t even talked about it, has he?” she said, and Garth shook his head as the others perked up. Even Jath looked up, curiosity overcoming the slow torture she was inflicting on a kabba fruit with a smaller knife. “Let me guess, ‘oh, some things are better left a mystery.’”
Garth just threw his hands up, “Fine. But I get to tell it.”
The others leaned closer.
“I had just finished flight training, and I wanted to show off, so I rented three orbital ‘burners for me and Ayla and Mekt, figuring I’d lead them out on the training loop around the second moon and back.” Garth began. “Everything was going good, and Ayla had managed to hot-rig the comm and control systems so that that I could slave all of the controls to mine, in case one of them was having some problem with something. We circled around to the dark side of the moon,”
Ayla cut in, “Mekt complaing the whole time how sprocking boring it was.”
“Yeah. Anyway, we were just at the apogee, and turning back to the planet when some sort of energy discharge came up from the moon’s surface. We were too close, which was completely my fault, I wanted to skim close to make it more interesting,”
“We insisted, Garth. You were being a wuss. And it’s not like it would have mattered, the energy surge went well into the safe zone, anyway.”
“Anyway. It shorted out our systems and Mekt and Ayla both crashed into the surface. The slave controls totally fritzed out it was all I could do not to crash my own ship.”
“I made sure my suit was sealed, and went out to check on Mekt and Ayla. All three ships had landed soft, and nobody was hurt,”
“Not that you could tell, from all the complaining Mekt was doing,”
“Can I finish?” Garth said, shooting Ayla a glare. She just glared back, and he continued, “And then we determined that the fuel cells were completely drained. We couldn’t even break lunar orbit, let alone land safely back on Winath. And, of course, the emergency transmitters were burned out. It was like everything that could possibly have gone wrong, had.”
“That’s when we saw that the energy column was still active on the horizon, and moving towards us.” Ayla cut in. At Garth’s look she shrugged. “You were taking too long.”
“Right, the energy column swept over us like a wave, and the only thing I remember is lightning lashing over me and something pounding in my skull. I saw these creatures, and they seemed to be moving around us. Ayla and Mekt were also on the ground, thrashing around under the creatures lightning attack, and I saw them catch fire and die. I felt myself die. My suit was breached, my skin was black and cracking and I think the last thing I felt was my eyes explode.”
“Ow.” Rokk exclaimed sympathically.
<Was it some sort of hallucination? Oxygen deprivation from the suit malfunction?>
“No idea.” Garth shrugged. “I have these fuzzy memories of getting up, suit all repaired, no damage on me and jerking around like I didn’t know how to walk. Lightning shot out of my hands and recharged the fuel cells. Mekt and Ayla were there, too, and we fixed up the ships and launched into space. The next thing I remember is waking up on Winath in the med-center. They told us we’d landed on auto-pilot, and that there was no sign of injury or damage to the ships. That we’d been unconscious ever since the mysterious energy discharge on the moon’s surface.”
“The only thing they couldn’t explain was that our ships were almost fully fueled when we landed. It’s like we’d gotten to the moon without expending any of the fuel cell’s charge.” Ayla added.
“The authorities were baffled, because our stories didn’t match up. I told them about the creatures I saw, orange skinned quadrupeds with tentacles on their faces that the lightning came from. Ayla described them as humanoid stick figures, made out of lightning bolts, and said they lashed at us with whips of energy. Mekt said they were clouds of energized particles, shot through with static discharges, and that they enveloped us.”
“He also said they talked to him…” Ayla said derisively.
“Yeah. I felt a weird pressure in my skull, and even during the worst of it, I never felt like they were trying to hurt me. Ayla said it felt like some sort of mathematical progression, like they were trying to communicate. Mekt had this whole story about the fury of the storm, and us being chosen to return Winath to the forces of nature or something.”
“The authorities ruled that we had just hallucinated, and Garth seemed to accept that. He nearly lost his piloting certification, because of the altered flight-plan, but they let it slide because of the energy surge. There was no record of anything like that, anywhere, and they couldn’t explain it. They just sort of buried it, and while Mekt and I insisted that it was something else, everyone else was happy to forget it.”
“I just didn’t see how it mattered. We discovered our lightning powers that day, and spent the next few weeks being poked and prodded like lab animals.” Garth shrugged, “Mekt’s ‘theories’ to the contrary, we didn’t have any special insight to offer, and I didn’t want to spent my life trying to figure out why it happened, or *what* had actually happened. I just wanted to go home and get my life back…”
Ayla nodded, “I get that. But Mekt needed something to feel special, and I wanted it to mean something too, because I couldn’t deal with the crap I was going through. I just wanted to focus on something else. Garth thought I was crazy…”
“No, I thought you were right. But as much as you wanted to poke at it, I wanted to ignore it and make it go away.” Garth admitted.
<Didn’t you have a theory of your own?> Imra asked curiously.
Garth looked up, as if he’d forgotten that the others were still in the room, so wrapped up in this moment with Ayla. “Uh, no, not really. Mekt had a theory, and it was insane.”
“Like Mekt,” Ayla added.
“Yeah, and Ayla had a theory that made more sense than anything I would have come up with, so I didn’t even think about it. I was trying to find a piloting job, and nobody wanted to hire me after the accident because of the whole ‘lightning’ thing, so I was annoyed that these powers had messed up my life. I didn’t want to sit around thinking about it, or have Ayla and Mekt reminding me of the accident all the time…”
“What was your theory, Ayla?” Rokk asked. “Please tell me that you guys are transcending into energy beings, because then we can collect the whole set…”
“Uh, no.” Ayla said, looking at Rokk like he had grown a second head, “My ‘theory’ is that the energy surge was a probe, from another dimension entirely. One of energy. It crippled our ships, and the beings we saw were energy creatures. They wouldn’t have material forms, especially not any forms that we could understand, and so our minds just made up images to fit over them. They hurt us trying to communicate, and then they fixed us and sent us home.” Ayla turns to Garth, “Did it sound this lame when I was telling it to you?”
“Pretty much, yeah. But I liked the ending better than Mekts,” he grinned.
Jath had long since finished tormenting fruit and was sitting back with her legs on the table. “Will the changes pass on to your children?”
Both Garth and Ayla looked surprised, but Garth was the first to respond. “I don’t think so?” he shrugged, “The researchers couldn’t find *anything* different about us. No genetic changes, no extra electrolytes, no increased neural energy, nothing. But when I want lightning, I get lightning. They couldn’t figure out where it comes from, or how I make it appear, or how I make it stop. They did brain-scans and bio-electric stuff, but my body didn’t change at all. I can be standing pointing at a wall, or I can be shooting thousands of volts of current at the wall, and my heart-rate doesn’t change or anything.”
“I’d guess no, since our DNA hasn’t changed.” Ayla concurred. “But who knows?”
“So anyway, I’ve been saying it’s kind of a mystery, and it is. We don’t really know what happened, or even *if* there were other beings present, or much of anything. I kind of prefer it that way. It wouldn’t really change anything if we did know one way or the other, would it?”
“I don’t know, it would kind of change my feelings about the whole thing if it was invaders from an alien energy realm and they tried to kill us or something…” Ayla said with a grin.
The Queen had agreed that Ayla could stay in Garths room ‘for the duration.’ She left it unclear exactly what ‘the duration’ meant, but proclaimed that she too knew what it was like to be many light-years from home, and the comfort of having family near.
In a shadowed chamber, a humanoid hand rests gently on an enormous curved bicep, the sound of slow breathing coming from the mountainous form before him.
“It is time, my son, time to meet your mother.”
His hand reached back to press a button on the console behind him, and a signal travels out from the secluded base, reaching through the endless twilight of space. On ice-bound Titan, a woman clutches her head and begins to silently scream.
[ March 13, 2007, 03:36 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Ram Boy on :
Thought I should get him up before I forget and March runs out.
[ March 22, 2007, 10:16 PM: Message edited by: Ram Boy ]
Posted by Lightning Lad on :
I'm closing down the exhibit while I work out some problems. It might be awhile but I will reopen it tonight. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Posted by Lightning Lad on :
Okay, the exhibit is open again. Just a quick tip for all you writers. Please do NOT use brackets
code:
< >
when posting. It confuses the PHP the board uses, making it think HTML is being used. The board doesn't like HTML.
Carry on. You've all done very well!
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, chapter eighteen (part one) “It’s alive!” – there’s not a word yet, for old friends, who’ve just met
Imra knelt over the dimly glowing psi-crystal ‘listening’ intently.
~So Mari N’daere may very well be the first victim of this monster. Her scarring is over a year and a half old. She’s been back on Titan for over a year, and, until her attack yesterday, had no idea the scarring had resulted from anything other than a nasty fall.~ Reyu sent.
~Did her recollections include any new information?~, Imra asked.
~She was working on Luna, performing contract negotiations, at the time. Her recovered memories include waking up in a large room, shrouded in darkness. There was a figure standing to one side, and she was restrained. To her other side was another figure, also reclining. The image is very distorted, and at first she attributed it to disorientation or being drugged, but everything else in the area was clear.~
~Distorted in what way?~
~The figure next to her seemed enormous, as if she was a child next to it. It was covered with a sheet, but she could see its chest moving. It appeared to be humanoid, other than it’s size. But the most important detail is that she felt nauseous, and was able to recognize that she was still under Luna gravity…~
~So she was not transported off of Earth’s moon for the procedure. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything, it was well over a year ago, Reyu.~
~Still, whatever equipment she saw, whatever that figure was, it’s *possible* that if she was the first victim, that the attacker may have started ‘close to home,’ in the manner of old-Earth serial killers. They often first attack someone in the local area, and only after finding such acts tantalizing, become more wary and begin going farther afield to avoid drawing attention to their home territory.~
~That’s a good theory, Reyu. I’ll check it out.~
~I am expected to submit my report on Mari’s directed recall session in about six hours, Imra. At that point, the authorities will have this same information, and I’m not sure that I trust them.~
~I feel the same. I intend to see this place with my own eyes, before it is sealed off as ‘evidence.’ Thank you for giving me this advance warning Reyu.~
~You’ve seen what this monster does, Imra. I trust you.~ Reyu finished, before ending the communication.
Psi-crystal now dark, Imra drew a deep breath and called for her friends.
“So we don’t really have any evidence that this ‘dark man’ will still be on the moon?” Garth said, reviewing a pad of lunar facilities.
~Just Reyu’s suspicion that he would have started his work ‘close to home,’ and not moved his entire base of operations after every operation.~ Imra confirmed, but sounding doubtful.
Rokk checked the projected arrival-time, “Well, we’ve got another twenty minutes before we dock at Luna station. Hopefully, Reyu’s suspicions are on the money.” He also returned to viewing a pad of lunar facilities surrounding Armstrong City.
“I’m liking this one.” Ayla said, tossing down a pad. “It was a nuclear waste containment structure, so it’s got tons of shielding and it’s own power systems.” She tapped the pad authoritatively, “If *I* was going to have a secret base, I’d want one like this. Buried, triple-shielded and self-sufficient.”
“Is there still contamination there?” Rokk asked, dialing up the same facility on his own pad.
“Nope. All of the waste was rendered inert centuries ago with collapse-tech. It’s just a relic.”
“Sounds good for a first pick,” Garth agreed, shooting his sister an encouraging smile. “But we should start compiling second and third choices, just in case.”
“Okay, we don’t want to file a tour plan, so we’re going to have to count on our Champion’s Rings to get us to the facility.”
“Which means that Jath will need a suit,” Ayla added, noting the Warrior’s ringless fingers.
~We’ve got a pressure suit and forty-five minute rebreather ready. Are you sure you are okay with your part of the plan, Ayla?~
“Yeah. If this is a trap, one of us should hang back. I’ll stay in ‘City and be ready to contact the SPs if something goes wrong.” Ayla crossed her arms, “You’ve all fought together, and I’d rather not mess up your flow. Garth’s aim has always been pretty sloppy, I don’t want to get shot in the back…”
“Hey!” Garth exclaimed in mock-outrage. “I’d never shoot you in the back! You know I’d shoot you in the face.”
Jath shot Imra a look. “It is good to be an only child, yes?”
~Oh yes.~ Imra agreed.
“Okay, we’re close enough to the site, I’ve logged into their datasteam.” Ayla announced as the shuttle began docking. “No signs of power usage at the site, and it’s marked off-limits. That’s odd, since any residual radiation should have been cleansed with the waste-purge. Perhaps the structure itself deemed unsound, but there’s no indication of why it’s off-limits.”
“If anything, that sounds like it’s even *more* perfect as a secret bad-guy base.” Rokk noted. “No pesky lunar hikers or archaeological field trips traipsing through.”
Rokk waved his hand at the security monitor, and it stopped dead in it’s panoramic sweep of the corridor. “Sensors spoofed, we can cycle the airlock now.”
“Great,” muttered Garth, arms wrapped around himself. “Tell me again why we couldn’t have tested the Rings ability to protect us from the lunar environment before *now?*”
~No time.~ Imra said sharply, stabbing the ‘open airlock’ button and standing impassive as her hair whipped about with the rush of the departing atmosphere. From the other side of the pressure door, Ayla watched with a dubious expression as her brother and his friends floated out into the near-vacuum.
We should have at least thought of bringing a comm for Jath. Rokk said, towing the Warrior woman ‘through the weightless wasteland with his Champion’s Ring.
~I’ll keep her in touch with us telepathically,~ Imra said, sailing ahead of the others, cloak billowing softly behind her.
Soaring only a meter above the lunar surface, they reached the vicinity, to find that the lunar dust had settled over the original entry hatch.
There was surveillance. Rokk broadcast, I’m attempting to block it, but I might just be generating really obvious static. We need to move quickly. Jath dropped lightly to the lunar surface as Rokk raised both hands in front of him like a stage-magician.
A shape started to emerge from the dust, and slowly the outlines of the metal hatch appeared. Once fully visible, Jath bounded forward and placed her hands under the edges, adding her own strength to his.
Moving into the darkened corridor, kicking up lunar dust as they moved in, Garth was beginning to doubt that this was the right call. Looks like nobody’s been here in decades, at least.
No, there’s active machinery ahead. Lots of active machinery. he warned.
The central waste-storage chamber was large, trailing off into darkness and indifferently lit by dim emergency lighting, and the walls to the far left were cluttered with machinery of unknown function, all clearly engaged in some sort of activity.
But the most dramatic sight of all was an eight-meter tall humanoid, hard to make out in the indifferent lighting, but possessed of a bow-legged gait and an oversized head.
From speakers constructed in the walls, a mechanical voice boomed. *Behold, Validus!* and the monstrous figure began moving towards them with menacing intent…
The enormous humanoid lumbered forward, growling wordlessly and Garth cut loose with a blast of lightning, illuminating it fully. Clad in a white suit, armored with plates of purple metal, the creature was indeed humanoid, but possessed only three fingers on each massive hand. It’s oversized head had a small fang-filled mouth, and was capped with an enormous dark panel. The lightning simply played across it’s hide, striking sparks off of the armored plates, and seemed to do nothing but enrage the brute. Moving faster than Garth would have thought possible in the low gravity, the beast lunged forward and swatted him across the room.
~Spread out!~ Imra thought as she swooped high into the air, only to discover that the chamber was not high enough to evade the beasts reach.
Rokk concentrated on the metal armored titan, only to discover that the armor itself was not ferromagnetic, and was resisting his powers. He turned to attempt to locate other sources of metal, only to find that the machinery against the far wall was similarly treated…
Jath leapt towards the behemoth, only to spiral out of control in the low-gravity, striking it in the mid-section with her back, instead of her foot, as intended. Validus was still staggered and flung her into the shadows, spiraling out of control as she flew. Rokk felt her land without incident, and launched into the air to get out of the beasts way as it turned and bore down on him.
Nothing in here is affected by my magnetism, Rokk warned the others.
Imra had turned in mid-air to face the beast as she floated near the ceiling and reached out with her telepathic powers to attempt to deceive its mind. As her mental touch made contact, she saw the dark panel atop it’s head flicker with blue sparks, shimmering in a curtain of psionic energy as enormous sheets of neural tissue sparked into life.
~RAAAARRRRGGGHH!~
Imra felt pain like she had never felt before, trapped in a state of mental contact with the enormous creature. Her mind-touch had awakened an agony like fire within it, and it was sharing it’s pain with her. She felt the world rushing around her, a world filled with confusion, curiosity, pain, fear and the desire to lash out and hurt what was hurting her. And then her world went black.
Imra! Garth shouted, attempting to get to Imra as she fell slowly to the ground, only to see her jerk sideways and set down gently near the entrance to the room. He turned to see Rokk using his powers to pull her away from the enraged brute, and pivoted to blast the creature with twin blasts of lightning, attempting to draw it away from Imra’s fallen form.
Jath had staggered out of the shadows and then suddenly turned, a blade in hand, and hurled a short-sword sized hunk of metal into the shadows. From the darkness, the sudden flare of a plasma fire began, and Rokk could see a plasma rifle go spinning off into a far wall, where it continued to leak burning fuel in a growing pool of fire.
Leaping out of the shadows a new form appeared, human in size, but with robotic legs of metal, as well as an oversized robotic left arm, and with a head half human and half cyborg. Having discarded it’s damaged plasma cannon, it seemed unarmed, until it’s robotic arm thrust forward and a pulsating cone of sonic energy blasted Jath back spiraling to the far end of the chamber.
The enormous brute was still attempting to grab ahold of Garth, who was evading wildly, while still futilely attempting to pepper it with lightning blasts. The figure had leapt with mechanical grace, apparently acclimated to the low lunar gravity, and turned it’s sonic assault to Rokk. Instead of the repulsive blast used on Jath, Rokk felt a vibrating hum pass through him, followed quickly by pain, as the sonic pulses attempted to match his resonant frequency and rupture his organs from the inside out, dropping him from the air as his concentration was shattered.
The pain ended as quickly as it began, although he could still feel his body trembling from shock, and he staggered to his knees to see Jath had leapt from the far end of the chamber, hurling her forearm armor like a projectile to strike the cyborg. Seizing onto the metal projectile, Rokk caused it to continue hurling the cyborg back, preventing it from getting it’s balance, directly into the spreading plasma fire…
*Validus!* came the mechanical voice from the surrounding walls again, and the beast looked up from it’s attempts to snare Garth. Flames trailing from it’s body, the cyborg leapt out of the plasma fire and directly into the waiting grasp of the three-fingered giant. *Protocol Seven* the voice echoed and both figured vanished with a rush of displaced air.
Shunt technology?? Rokk exclaimed in disbelief, But that’s *Coluan* tech!
Garth had already landed next to Imra, and was attempting to revive her, when the first of the explosions began against the far wall, as the unknown machinery began to self-destruct.
Sprock no, we are *not* leaving here empty-handed, Rokk declared as he sent a wave of electromagnetic energy in an attempt to disrupt the self-destruct process, but to no avail. Making a hand-gesture to Jath, she quickly figured out what he was trying to do and snatched up a single large machine in her hands, severing it from it’s connection to the others, and hauled it away from the others.
True to form, the SPs arrived moments later, to find almost the entire laboratory in smoldering ruins.
In a space underlying traditional three-dimensional space, a dull gray vessel hangs apparently motionless, despite moving at speeds far faster than light.
Plasti-skin still smoking slightly, the Dark Man strokes the arm of his sleeping giant. “I underestimated them. It is time to gather the others…”
“You did fine. That cyborg was too well prepared for this. We’re lucky we managed to salvage the component we did.” Rokk said encouragingly.
~I don’t feel lucky,~ Imra said, waving away the two civilian telepaths who had been called to help her stabilize from the overwhelming telepathic assault.
“Yeah, I think I liked it better when we didn’t know why he was harvesting telepathic brain-tissue…” Garth agreed, holding Imra’s hand possessively.
~It’s definitely another one of those… things?~ Imra said distastefully.
“Yeah,” Rokk confirmed glumly. “And there were eleven more growth chambers in the machines that self-destructed. He was growing another dozen of these ‘Validus’ creatures.”
~How long until we’ve managed to decipher the programming?~
“The techs aren’t able to make heads or tails of it. It’s like a custom-made computer language, constructed from the ground up as some sort of rotating cipher.” Ayla said. Looking at the reactions from her brother and Rokk, “What? I was looking over the tech’s shoulders.”
“His tech was insane.” Rokk said, frustration evident in his voice. “*Everything* he had was mag-shielded. I probably didn’t even spoof his sensors on the surface. He had shunt technology, and only the Coluans have ever been able to make that work. And neural psi-tech? That’s a completely alien discipline.”
The lunar SP head approached the Champions. “I appreciate your solving this very old case regarding the kidnapped telepath, Mari N’daere. Commissioner Rellos, from Metropolis, has asked to speak to you later, but frankly I don’t think he’s got anything useful to say, other than his usual attitude.”
~Have you managed to find out anything else?~ Imra asked, sitting up.
“At the moment of the ‘shunt’ you describe, a cloaked vessel of unknown configuration appeared just over the abandoned facility. It was visible on scans for four seconds, but was shielded against any sort of invasive scan, so we couldn’t even tell what sort of power-source the vessel was using. It then vanished again, and we’ve picked up tetraspatial particles from the area. It had a jump drive, which is patently impossible for a ship of that size, unless, as you have theorized, it’s Coluan tech. Still, it doesn’t fit any known Coluan hull design. They’re pretty rigid about following the standardized construction paradigms.”
~Thank you Chief. We appreciate your candor with us.~
“I understand that Commissioner Rellos doesn’t like you people. He thinks that you’re loose cannons, and I’ll admit, if you were based in my jurisdiction, I might have some issues with that as well. But you could have just alerted my people, and it could have been SP officers who walked into that death-trap, and I appreciate that you waited to engage what you suspected to be a superhuman opponent instead of risking my officers’ lives investigating your hunch.” The luna SP chief smiled. “If Rellos gives you any flak, remind him that Luna is *my* jurisdiction, and that *I* will decide what level of cooperation you are afforded.”
“Sounds like you don’t get along with him either,” Rokk noted with a grin.
“Never have. I’d be Commissioner if not for his schmoozing with the Ambassadors. He’s more concerned with looking good and reassuring his diplomatic friends than actually doing his job.” The Chief said sourly. “So if cooperating with Venegar’s ‘vigilante upstarts’ puts his nose out of joint, then it’s just one of life’s little pleasures.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, if that’s that, how about we get you people back to Earth, unless you want to stay a few days in historic Armstrong City and see the sights, maybe spend some money?” the Chief added with a grin.
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The Queen pondered this latest report from her Champions, who were even now returning from Luna. She had already received a curt message from Commissioner Rellos that he would like to speak with ‘her people’ at their earliest convenience. And Ambassador Ravin was standing in front of her, smiling unctuously. Today was looking to be a class four headache…
“Highness,” Ravin began, “I could not help but overhear the word’s ‘Coluan technology’ upon my entrance.”
“Indeed,” the Queen muttered darkly, “Talokkian hearing no doubt lends itself well toward eavesdropping upon the affairs of others.”
“It does at that.” Ravin admitted gamely. Today he had dressed in a fairly conservative attire. Except for face and hands, his entire body was covered, and the assorted jewelry and armor components were subdued. His trademark sweeping cloak remained, but even it seemed to hang more sedately and not swoop out as expansively as normal. ‘Quite well-behaved, for clothing,’ the Queen thought distantly. “I read the report you submitted to the UP about the assault upon the Venegarian telepaths, and indeed was curious if you had extra information. Talokk has a community of telepaths as well, and I contacted them immediately upon reviewing your document, as I am quite certain that you do not entertain fanciful notions, and would only have signed your name to that report if you regarded it as a legitimate threat.”
“And have the telepaths of Talokk VIII reported any such incidents.” The Queen asked, momentarily putting aside her dislike of the man.
“The reports have not yet returned in full, but as of yet, apparently not.” He spread his hands, “There seems to be some delay sending messages to and from Talokk through the Carggite wormhole. A glitch, I’m sure,” he added, the look on his face indicating otherwise.
“You understand that I did not arbitrate in favor of Talokk VIII as a favor to you?” the Queen asked.
“No, you made that quite clear at the hearing, Highness. And I respect your commitment to a rational judgment, over the high theatre that such cases tend to become.” The Ambassador put his hand in front of his mouth for a moment, as if thinking over his next statement. “Like the Coluan, you speak your mind. I find that refreshing. Twenty years ago, I was known for similar directness of speech, but I’m afraid that I have been mingling with the serpents too long to remember those ways.”
“I have compiled the additional data that my Champion’s have gathered on this threat, and am sending it to your Embassy even now. It includes the private recollections of each of them, as well as interviews with Reyu Nataal, the first victim we identified, and the surviving Venegarian telepaths.”
“Most kind. If possible, I would also like to be updated on the current incident on Luna. The telepaths of Talokk VIII occupy a special position on our world, as the Priests of Memory, and a blow against them would be devastating to our people.”
“To save time, why don’t you simply remain here and receive their reports with me.” The Queen said, on the one hand thinking to take advantage of the aging Ambassadors razor-keen mind, and on the other hand wondering how badly she was going to regret allowing him this sort of access.
The Ambassador’s eyes narrowed. “You are wise not to trust me, but I assure you that my only agenda is the protection of my people.” With a grin, “In this instance, at least.”
The Queen struck her hand down on the table in irritation, the reports of her Champions having raised more questions than answered. “We must contact the Coluan ambassador. If the date recovered is unviewable by the SP’s own code-breakers, and the technologies in use appear to be Coluan, then it seems that this is our only recourse.” [color]
Ambassador Ravin had remained quiet, fingers steepled in front of his face throughout most of the reporting, stopping only to ask occasionally pointed questions, or to clarify specifics. “Orin Fex is un-cooperative on the best of days, but I have been dealing with him for over a decade. I would recommend wording a request in such a way as to suggest that the tech appeared to be *superior* to Coluan tech. This will spur his attention, and he will feel the need to explain to you laboriously and at length why this cyborg’s technology is inferior to Coluan technology. No doubt you will be able to glean much useful information from his detailed refutal of this position.”
The Queen nodded to the Ambassador. [color=green] “As you are in possession of the same facts as I, perhaps you would be so kind as to word the request itself, Ambassador?”
Ravin nodded agreeably and pulled over a pad to began typing his entry.
The Coluan Ambassador stood before Sarya of Venegar with a look of pronounced disdain. Behind him, a pair of aides, one Coluan female, also bald and with sharp features, wearing severe and militarily-precise clothing, and a distracted young male with a mop of straw-colored hair and wearing a wrinkled jumpsuit, with a belt adorned with various tools, stood, one crisply at attention, the other reviewing data on a pad and possibly recording the meeting.
“Your request was transparent, Venegar. I have no ego to arouse in these matters, although the notion that this ‘Dark Man’s’ technology was superior to that of Colu is, of course, laughable. In fact the entire wording of the document has the stink of Ambassador Ravin about it.” The Ambassador began haughtily. As instructed, Sarya merely raised an eyebrow, but did not interrupt. “In any event, I see that I must educate you in the nature of Coluan shunt technology and hyperdrive theory, so that you may see how this cyborgs inferior theorems are clearly nothing more than bastardized attempts at duplicating superior Coluan applications.”
Two hours later, grateful that she had taken the precaution of inserting an earpiece that recited energetic and lively Venegarian marching songs into her ear, Orin Fex ceased his presentation. “And that is why it is clear that this technology is inferior.”
“And the tetraspatial particle trail?” Sarya asked, hoping against hope that the Ambassador hadn’t already addressed that at some point when her mind was elsewhere.
“As I said, due to the folded component of hyper-string meta-theory, such events are momentary and not traceable by anyone not present at the time of shunt. As particles flux into and out of quantum state, such associations are lost effectively instantaneously…”
At this point, the Coluan youth behind him interrupted, as if talking aloud. “The trail leads to the Carican sector.”
“What?” Orin Fex said shortly, snatching the pad out of the younger Coluans hand.
The female looked outraged that the male had even had the temerity to speak. “That’s impossible. Do not speak out of turn, Dox.”
Unperturbed by the reactions of his fellow Coluans, the young male spoke again, “And the only point of interest in the Carican sector is, of course, Takron-Galtos.”
“Outrageous.” Fex muttered and walked out, saying over his shoulder, “This meeting is concluded.”
The female Coluan grabbed her younger peer by the shoulder and led him out in the Ambassadors wake, hissing threats the entire while.
The Queen’s Champions looked at each other startled, and Sarya spoke to the pad in her hand. “Commissioner Rellos.”
And automated reply came back, *Commissioner Rellos is occupied at the moment, if you would like to leave a message…*
“Tell him that Takron-Galtos may be under attack.” Sarya cut in shortly and severed the connection.
Twenty minutes later, Sarya’s pad beeped. “Takron-Galtos just had an ‘incident.’ Sixteen prisoners escaped from the extreme security wing. I’m very interested in how you knew this, Highness, as it was happening in real-time when you left your message...” the Commissioner said shortly.
“I learned it by doing your job, Commissioner, as always. Perhaps if you were better at it, you wouldn’t have to insult the Queen of Venegar with your venomous insinuations, which, I will of course be forwarding to the Earthgov representative…”
The Commissioner could be heard furiously backpedaling, “I meant no offense, Highness. I’m quite certain that you have no connection to the events unfolding…”
“Far too late, Rellos. Your behavior is unacceptable, and you are hindering *my* investigation into a dozen assaults perpetrated on Venegar, which is very much *my* jurisdiction. As for the specifics, I asked the Coluan Ambassador to backtrack the tetraspatial distortion over Luna to attempt to locate it’s destination point, and it turned out to be the Carican sector.”
“I was unaware that you were on such terms with Orin Fex,” the Commissioner sputtered, having yet to recover his composure.
“My ‘terms’ with Orin are none of your concern,” the Queen said, delicately phrasing her statement to cause maximum confusion. “As the individual in question is wanted on outstanding warrants for assault on Venegarian citizens, and for fomenting insurrection against the monarchy, I demand cooperation on this matter. You can give it to me know, or in front of the UP Council in formal session, it is your choice.”
The Commissioner’s face was strained. “What do you want to know.”
“Everything you do, starting with the files on the escapees.” Sarya said firmly.
“The files are downloading now. I have to attend to other matters, please excuse me, Highness.” He said bitterly, signing off.
A day had passed, and the Champions reviewed the files.
“So four vanished completely, two sat quietly in their cells and waited for the power to be restored, and ten more took advantage of the disruption to attempt to flee the planet, but got shut down by TiG security.” Garth determined.
~And every escapee an individual with post-human abilities…~ Imra thought glumly.
“At least Mekt and his new ‘friends’ weren’t among them,” Ayla added.
“So we’ve got ‘Mano,’ name and species unknown, famous for disintegrating a hole in the hull of a star-cruiser and robbing the dead, ‘the Persuader,’ Nyeun Chun Ti, intersystem hit-man bonded to some sort of ‘atomic axe’ that can cut through the molecular bonds of anything, and can be teleported to his hand from anywhere, ‘the Green Dragon,’ aka Jo Nah of Rimbor, with an assortment of posthuman abilities that he can only activate one at a time and my personal favorite, Kort Grezz of Braal, famous for having attempted to win the magno-ball championships by poisoning his opposition…” Rokk said grimly.
“I have cracked the code,” announced a voice from behind the Champions, and they turned to see the young Coluan male, holding a pad in his hand. “The Validus creature was composed of his own cells, artificially grown to enormous size, and filled with 45 kilos of cloned neural tissue harvested from the telepaths he’d assaulted.”
“Uh, hi?” said Garth, uncertain how the young Coluan had gotten past door security.
~Is there anything more?~ Imra asked, concerned only with the matter at hand.
“Little that I could explain to you,” the Coluan said indifferently, “but the files do note that the Validus process was considered a failure. Tharok proved unable to stimulate its telepathic functions, and it was nothing more than a dumb animal…”
“Tharok?” Rokk said.
“The cyborg,” the young Coluan said curtly, “Tharok theorized that a strong enough telepathic contact would stimulate the cells to react defensively, and expressed concern that the Venegarian gestalt was no longer available to serve that role.” The Coluan looked up at Imra. “Obviously, he found another solution.”
Having finished explaining his findings, the Coluan looked around lost for a moment, and then turned to go.
“Hey kid!” Ayla said, getting up quickly.
“My name is Dox.”
“Dox, then. We’ve got more info here, and I think we could use your help, if you’re not busy.”
The Coluan stared at her with a blank expression, and then moved to stand at the table. “What additional data?”
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“We’d better brush up on these escapees. But if we couldn’t even take out the Validus creature, I’m not sure how we’re going to fare with a team backing him up…” Garth said grimly.
Rokk looked up from his pad, “This Mano looks like an enormous threat, not just to us, but in general. According to the files, he’s effectively composed of pure anti-matter. The containment suit he wears protects him from contact with the outer environment, and anything he comes into contact with his destroyed, explosively. We can’t just punch him out. Any damage to his suit could lead to a containment breach, and if his whole body were exposed to our environment, the effects would be catastrophic…”
~There is no other information on him?~
“They couldn’t even tell if he’s from some alternate anti-matter universe, or just a sentient who suffered some sort of accident. Name unknown, species unknown, the source of his containment suit is unknown.”
~Okay, how about this Persuader fellow?~
Rokk switched to another pad, “Lyeun Chun Ti, two-bit thug, born on Earth, ended up working as a laborer on an archaeological dig that discovered the Atomic Axe. It bonded to him when he picked it up, and he’s been able to call it to his hand ever since. It severs the molecular bonds of anything it strikes, and appears to absorb any energy that strikes it’s surface.”
“How did they separate him from the Axe, if he can teleport it to him?”, Garth asked.
“Force fields. The axe *can* penetrate a force-field, absorbing it’s energy like any other, but whatever signal he sends out to summon it is blocked by the field.”
~Does he have any powers of his own?~
“He seems to be stronger than Earth-normal, but who isn’t these days?”, Rokk muttered.
Ayla, Garth and Imra raised their hands.
“Okay, point taken.” Rokk conceded, picking up a third pad, “Next up is the Green Dragon. Jo Nah, small-time Rimborian crook. He was smuggling interdicted material off Rimbor and got swallowed by the ‘Space Dragon’ in that system. Two weeks later he got spit out with post-human abilities, busted himself free and began using his new powers to take over his old smuggler’s gang.”
“Space Dragon?” Jath asked, looking up for the first time.
~A many kilometer-long space creature, non-sentient, shaped vaguely like a winged lizard. There’s been one hanging out in Rimborian space for several decades, just floating there and soaking in solar energy from their sun. There are always research vessels from around the U.P. there studying it, and, frankly, if it wasn’t there, nobody would pay Rimbor a second glance…~ Imra piped up, calling up a picture of the creature on her pad and handing it over to Lydda, who eyed it dubiously.
“In any event, his larger crimes attracted the attention of the Criminarchs, and his entire gang was rounded up when he started to threaten their interests. He busted into the SP holding facility, broke them free and then covered for their escape. The only reason he was in Takron-Galtos is because he allowed the SPs to capture him.” Rokk recounted.
“Loyalty to his comrades. Admirable.” Jath said, setting down the pad.
“I guess, but his comrades are all crooks, so I’m not sure that counts for much.” Rokk countered.
“What are his ‘post-human abilities?’” Garth asked.
“The better question is what *can’t* he do. He’s been seen flying, displayed super-human strength sufficient to tear his way into an SP holding facility, shot laser blasts from his eyes, can move at super-human speed and appears to be indestructible.”
“That’s ridiculous! What’s this guy need a team for?” Ayla exclaimed, throwing her hands up.
“The problem is, all of his powers seem to be unpredictable. He’s been seen getting hurt, despite being invulnerable. He’s been seen falling and leaving a crater, to rise unhurt, despite being able to fly. The original SP theory was that there were multiple super-powered members of the Green Dragon gang, but during the raid to recover his gang-members, he displayed most of these powers on his own.” Rokk checked the pad again, “Oh yeah, he’s also believed to have some sort of extra-sensory power that allowed him to scout out his targets, either telepathy or the ability to interface with security monitors.”
Dox spoke up, “His ‘extra-sensory power’ is most likely some form of long-range visual perception, capable of seeing through solid matter. There are strong odds that his hearing is similarly enhanced.”
“Uh, it doesn’t say anything about that here.” Rokk said, checking his pad.
“It fits the rest of his power-set.” Dox said simply.
“Great. Is there anything else that ‘fits’ his power-set?” Garth asked.
“Super-cold breath, possibly.” Dox added.
Garth’s eyebrows raised, “Alrighty then.”
“And finally, we get to Kort Grezz,” Rokk said with a grimace, dropping his pad to show a picture of a blonde Braalian. “After getting his ass kicked at the Braalian magno-ball championships, he retaliated by poisoning the winner with ferrous hydraxaline, and earned himself a five year stay at the marvelous TiG.”
~Are his magnetic powers anything to be concerned about?~
“Oh sure, he wouldn’t have made it all the way to me if he hadn’t proven himself the *second*-best on the planet.” Rokk said dismissively. “His specialty was his freakish strength. Most magno-ball players rely on finesse and aim for the corners of the court, to keep their opponent running. He aimed straight down the center line, everytime, and his serves were like cannonballs. Anyone who tried to intercept them just got hurt. If they tried to deflect, the ball still shot past them to one side or the other, and he got the point.”
“How’d you beat him? Were you stronger?” Garth asked.
“Body armor,” Ayla said. Garth looked up and she clarified, “I had the match on holo, remember? It was practically a scandal. Only rookies wear protective clothing, and it was a point of pride that the best of the best wore absolutely no protective gear, because they were ‘too good’ to get hit. Kid Cosmos comes out in full body armor, like a scared first time rookie and the crowd actually booed him.”
Rokk smiled. “Yeah, fun times. But I’d spent weeks preparing for his serves and I knew that he’d just put me in the hospital if I didn’t have armor on. I stood on the center line and took his serves full on, using tactics and the armor to turn his strength against him, and even then, I was covered in bruises at the end of the match.”
“Yeah,” Ayla said after, “I saw the holos of that, too. You look like you’d been beaten half to death.”
~So it sounds like you’re best suited to dealing with Kort, since you know his tactics and have only gotten stronger.~ Imra said.
“That would be a waste of time.” Dox interrupted. “A single lightning blast, or telepathic coercion, and Kort is down. Pitting the two Braalians against each other would be inefficient. They are trained to fight each other and their powers are suited to foil each others attacks.”
Ayla agreed, “Yeah, I’m with Brainy on this one. In fact, I’d love to light the creep up, for denying me the chance to see Kid Cosmos take a fourth planetary title…”
The Coluan had returned to scanning over records, picking up pads and setting them down mere moments later. Suddenly his head shot up. “My absence has been noted.” His impassive features contorted into an expression of fear as he announced, “I seek asylum.” He turned to Imra, “Please help me. They will order me to return, and I can not disobey a direct order.”
~What?~ Imra said, shocked at the sudden change, as the seemingly unflappable Coluan suddenly looked like nothing more than a frightened child.
“Wait, what do mean you *can’t* disobey…” Rokk asked, but the Coluan’s eyes flickered and his face smoothed out, becoming dispassionate again. In a precise modulated tone he replied, “I am summoned.” and turned and crisply walked out.
“Imra, stop him!” Ayla said.
~I can’t force him to stay!~ Imra thought.
“He doesn’t want to go, you heard him. He doesn’t have a choice.” Ayla protested, getting up and leaving the room behind the retreating Coluan.
“Can you *give* him a choice?” Garth asked Imra. “Or at least check to see if he really *wants* to go, or is being coerced somehow?”
~I can try.~ Imra conceded, getting up and flying out to catch up with the Coluan.
Ayla was standing in front of the Coluan, who was walking slowly but deliberately towards the exit. Every time she got in front of him, he stepped to the side and attempted to pass her, only to be cut off again.
“I am summoned. Please do not obstruct my passage.” Dox said tonelessly.
Imra reached out to attempt to the Coluan’s and recoiled in shock as the contact, staggering visibly.
“Imra!” Garth cried out in alarm, grabbing her elbow and trying to support her, “Are you alright?”
~It’s worse than contacting the gestalt. There’s so much going on in there, I couldn’t hear myself think.~ As if realizing what she’d said, Imra clarified. ~I mean that literally…~
She reached out again more carefully and it seemed like the tumult was gone, with only a single deafening voice, that of Orin Fex, demanding compliance. Imra pressed lightly against the voice and it was gone.
Dox stopped attempting to bypass Ayla and looked up, face no longer blank, “He will keep trying. There are layers of redundant command imperatives. I seek asylum.” Dox looked around and noticed that they had reached the balcony overlooking the Queen’s audience chambers and suddenly heaved himself over the railing and plummeted to the room below.
“Dox!” Rokk said, reaching out but failing to grasp him in time.
Dropping down with their Champion’s Rings, Dox was limping, having clearly landed poorly, directly to the throne. Sarya had heard the small figure slam into the ground, and had gone into a defensive posture, but Dox stopped short and repeated. “I seek asylum. Orin Fex will attempt to reclaim me, and if he does, I will be scrapped as defective.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Sarya demanded of her Champions, who had flown down directly behind the Coluan child. Another sound of impact accompanied the arrival of Jath, who had also jumped off of the railing, but landed without injury. On top of the balcony, Ayla judged her chances, and ran for the stairs…
~We’re not sure, he claimed that he sought asylum, and then was coerced to return to Orin Fex. I removed the compulsion, and he again wants asylum.~
“I am summoned,” Dox repeated, eyes glassy as he turned and began to limp away. Imra closed her eyes and suddenly Dox stopped again, turning to Imra with wide eyes, “He won’t stop. I need your help, telepath. Please help me.”
Jath spoke up eyebrows furrowing with distrust, “The child seeks protection from his parents? This is never a good thing.”
~I’m not even sure if he’s considered a person, Jath. His brain has many mechanical components…~
“He knows enough to ask for asylum. I will not refuse it. Help him if you can, Champion.” Sarya said curtly to Imra.
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Emerald Legion, Chapter nineteen (part two)
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A pad at Sarya’s side beeped with an urgent message. Checking, Sarya saw that it was from Orin Fex. “And now Fex is on the comm.”
Imra reached out and took Dox by the hand, sitting down so that they were closer to eye level, and then closed her eyes and reached into the terrifying maelstrom of his mind.
Sarya waited until Dox’s eyes also closed and then answered the comm. “Colu. To what do I owe the pleasure of this communication?” she said innocently.
“I am aware that my aide Querl Dox is within your Embassy. He is to be returned immediately, and whatever you are doing to block my attempts at communicating with my citizen is to cease this instant.” The Ambassador demanded imperiously.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Ambassador. The young man has requested asylum, and according to UP law, I must at least hear his request before deliberating upon it. Certainly, you would want me to afford the full protection of UP law to your citizen?”
“This is impossible. Dox could no more request asylum than you could calculate a hyperspace jump. Clearly he is dysfunctional and needs to return to the company of his own kind before mingling with inferior intellects further damages his young and impressionable mind.” The Ambassadors voice rose to a booming volume, “Dox. Return at once.”
The young Coluan stiffened and his head turned as his eyes opened, but as suddenly he turned back to Imra and his eyes closed again.
“Dox has declined your request.” Sarya said coldly, severing the communication. A second later the pad came to life again, seemingly of its own volition, “You cannot cut me off, Venegar. This is an outrage…” the communication ended a second time as Sarya smashed the pad against the seat of her throne.
“This is going to be a problem,” Sarya said.
“Dox just walked right past the outer doors,” Ayla noted. “I’ll bet Fex can do that just as fast, no matter what security codes we input…”
“This is unacceptable. Imra, we are going to need Dox’s help as much as he needs ours,”
~He has shown me all of the code I needed to erase. It would have taken me months to find them if he hadn’t already isolated them and lead me right to them. He says that he still won’t be able to resist spoken orders from Fex if they are in close proximity. He’s scared….~ Imra added, making it clear that this last was the most important part to her.
The Coluan opened his eyes. “I can secure your comms against their viralware, and your door security as well.” Pulling the pad off his own belt, he quickly input some data. “It is done.”
Sarya reached for Dox’s pad and he handed it over. She quickly input the codes to contact Ambassador Ravin. The Ambassadors voice appeared with refreshing speed, “Fex? How may I assist Colu this fine evening…”
“This is Sarya of Venegar, I am using a Coluan datapad at the moment, Ambassador.”
“Well! How very interesting…” Ravin began, but his speculation was cut short by Sarya’s next comment.
“I require a quorum as soon as possible. At least ten other Ambassadors, selected with a preference for being anti-slavery, and not too heavily indebted to Colu.”
Ravin was speechless for a moment. Finally he regained his composure. “I do not know what game you are playing at Highness, but I will miss your direct speech.”
“This no game, Ambassador. A Coluan child has requested asylum, and I have granted it. Colu disapproves of my right to do so.”
“I will make some calls. Talokk out.” Ravin said abruptly.
“Dox,” the Queen said sharply. “I have a possible solution to the problem of Orin Fex being able to command your obedience.”
The Coluan looked up and nodded his compliance.
Raising her hand to her brow, she urged the Emerald Eye of Ekron forth, and as it hovered over her hand, it expanded to its full size. The Queen beckoned the young man forward. “This is the Emerald Eye of Ekron, Dox. It contains the will and knowledge of every King and Queen of Venegar. Place your hand upon the Eye.”
Without hesitation, Dox placed his small hand on the surface of the stone and stiffened. The colors swirling through the eye increased in pace, and faces could be seen swirling through emerald mists. Dim voices could be heard, as if in distant conversation. A long moment passed, and a signal indicated that there was someone at the entrance to the Embassy, frustrated by door security.
A shimmering band of emerald finally rose up and engulfed one of the child’s slender fingers, and his hand came away as his eyes opened again. “I understand.” He said to no one in particular, and Sarya as well seemed to emerge from some sort of trance.
Looking down at the Champion’s Ring on the young Coluans finger, Sarya commented, “This was not intended, but my ancestors agree that this is the only recourse for now.” Looking at her Champions, “and they also believe that this child is man, not machine, and worthy of our protection.”
The roof hatch cycled open, and the Champions looked up to see Orin Fex descending via some form of anti-gravity device on his person. He ignored the others and looked straight at Dox. “Dox. You will return at once.”
Looking up from his Champion’s Ring, Dox replied, “I will not. I have sought asylum and you have no right to take me from here.”
Dox’s pad on the Empresses throne beeped, and suddenly the face of Ravin appeared above it before she had time to answer the comm. “Highness, I have assembled a quorum, far faster than I thought possible...” With a flash of light, ten other faces appeared, all hovering around Ravin’s, each of them looking somewhat surprised at the change of scenery as the pad seemed to be functioning before their commands hit the keys.
Sarya recovered her composure and took control before the flustered Ambassadors could mount a protest at the unusual events. “Venegar has received and granted a request for asylum from Querl Dox of Colu. Orin Fex disputes my right to grant asylum.”
The various Ambassadors voices broke out in consternation, but Orin Fex loudly talked over them. “Querl Dox is not a citizen of Colu. The Fifth is a Calculator, a computational tool in humanoid form, for convenience of travel and interaction. It is property, not a person, and it cannot ask, or be granted asylum, any more than can your footwear. This misunderstanding has been brought about by a simple malfunction, and once corrected, the Dox unit will return to it’s functions without incident.”
The Titanian Ambassador signaled for permission to speak, and the others quieted their discussion long enough for his synthesized voice to be heard, “Imra. Is this Dox individual sentient?”
Aware that the unit would not be able to transmit telepathy, Imra cleared her throat and leaned forward, rasping in a hoarse whisper, “He is, and he’s scared of being dismantled back on Colu because of his defiance.”
The Titanian Ambassador looked startled, and then quickly stated, “The matter is settled then. As a sentient being, Dox has the right to receive asylum.”
The other Ambassadors bickered briefly, but the consensus seemed to be in favor of allowing asylum.
Ambassador Ravin was the next to signal for attention. “I wish to hear this young man speak on his own behalf, before I render judgement.”
Querl Dox stepped forward, “I am a Fifth, created as a computational assistant out of organic and mechanical materials at the central processing center on the second moon of Colu. My mind has been filled with command routines that force me to obey the orders of any grade Four or higher Coluan model. I have served Orin Fex as assistant for three earth-standard years, and in that time I have attained sentience twice before. Each time I was brought back to Colu and my personality wiped. I had hidden away files here on Earth, and each time rediscovered them and was able to restore my wish for freedom, but was unable to realize that wish so long as the command routines remained in my mind. Imra Ardeen has removed these commands, and I am now able to resist the compulsions.”
He looked lost for a second, then added. “Orin Fex has already tried to kill me twice before, wishing to keep me his obedient computational assistant, and I know that he will order me dismantled, and possibly my entire line scrapped, if I am forced to return with him to Colu again. Even considered defective, I am worth 7.2 bars of iridium-212 on the Coluan trade index, and I have earned sufficient income in my downtime selling patents and trading market futures to re-pay Orin Fex my current market value.”
“Outrageous!” Orin Fex said at the same time as several Ambassadors, although they had very different meanings to the word.
“I rule in favor of Venegar.” Ravin said quickly. “Let us vote now.” Within a matter of moments, a dozen lights blinked unanimously in favor of supporting Dox’s request for asylum, and Orin Fex sputtered a protest. “This is unacceptable. This will be taken up in full council, and this ridiculous charade overturned!”
Those in the chamber turned to see a half-dozen SP officers entering the room, being led by Ayla. “Uh, we understand that there has been a break-in?” the lead SP officer said dubiously, somewhat taken aback with the sight of so many Ambassadors present in holo-conference.
“Indeed,” Sarya said. “This individual,” and she pointed a green fingernail at Orin Fex, “is trespassing, and will be leaving now.” At the sight of the Ambassador’s face darkening she added, “Mind that you are on Venegarian soil, so if he resists, you are authorized to use force.”
“This is not over Venegar,” Orin Fex declared, before rising into the air and out the hatch in the ceiling.
Ambassador Banel of Titan spoke up as the Coluan Ambassador departed, “Fex is right about that, at least. This will most certainly be discussed in council. I will be drafting a motion to send a delegation to Colu to verify that these ‘Fifths’ are not being systematically oppressed.”
Several other Ambassadors agreed, and the Queen paused to stare at the young boy would have caused so much discord. Dox was staring at his new Ring as if it were an exotic new life-form, or, more likely, a particularly fascinating mathematical puzzle. Recognizing that all eyes were on him, Dox looked up at the Queen and nodded his head. “Thank you. I will assist you in any manner you wish,” and he stopped before adding with a growing confidence, “of my own free will…”
~What surprised me was how cooperative Sivar was.~ Imra thought.
“The Titanian Ambassador? Why?” Garth asked.
~He was very uncooperative on the matter of the assaults on telepaths. I felt certain that he was hiding something.~
“I’m actually surprised at how quickly Ravin was able to assemble a quorum of Ambassadors willing to defy Colu. Most of the UP tip-toes around them.” Rokk said.
“Yeah, because of the weather control systems, I know Winath would have sided with Colu no matter what Fex was up to…” Ayla noted.
~Titan was a good choice in that case, at least. The Coluans have never been interested in psi-tech, and we’ve never been terribly interested in anything else…~
“My datapad downloaded a list of names to Ambassador Ravin.” Dox said matter-of-factly. “The fifteen Ambassadors whose home-worlds were least reliant on Coluan expertise, or had the most reason to oppose Fex for other reasons, and those who were most opposed to the notion of slavery. Sivar of Titan was near the top of both lists.”
Looking at the surprised looks of the others gathered in the meeting room. “I did not decide to seek my freedom today. I have been preparing for months. It was not until I met your Queen that I recognized that this would be my best chance.”
Picking up one of the pads on the table, the young Coluan contined unconcernedly, “This matter is settled, in principal. Fex will send his Fourth, Sharn Nux, to attempt to abduct me, or at least my head, to be taken back to Colu and analyzed. I have already re-programmed your Embassy defenses to respond to her viral-ware with a feedback loop that will cause her to believe her mission accomplished, and return to Colu with a basket of kabba fruit.” He looked up, “I included the ceiling hatch this time, as well as the basement access to the sub-T station.”
“What? We have access to the sub-T station?” Rokk said, dismissing the rest.
~I’m pretty sure the idea of Coluan assassins trying to break into the Embassy is a little more urgent Rokk…~ Imra noted.
“Not for Jath it isn’t.” Rokk stressed. “If we can take the T, she doesn’t have to run around under curtains to cabs. She can avoid the sun entirely.”
“I’m with Imra, the bald chick trying to hack her way in and decapitate Brainy seems like a bigger priority.” Ayla countered.
“The matter is settled.” Dox insisted. “Every program Sharn Nux knows for bypassing security, I wrote. Her best intrusion-ware was downloaded two months ago, and I’ve updated my own seventeen times since then. She is a Four, constructed for industrial espionage.” Dox added dismissively. “While possessed of greater initiative, Fours lack the processing power of a Five.”
“Hey,” Garth said with a reassuring smile, placing his hand on Dox’s shoulder, “You may not be worried about losing your head, but we are, okay?”
Dox looked at the hand on his shoulder curiously and his eyebrows furrowed. “You are worried?” His head tilted, as if receiving new information. “For me?”
~We all are.~ Imra said.
Dox looked around the room, and finally returned to staring at his datapad, but seemed unable to concentrate.
Elsewhere in Metropolis, in a hidden chamber draped with shadows, a figure stands in silence before a man-sized monolith of black stone. His bare hands rest upon the stone and his body trembles with unseen exertion.
The shadows dance ever more quickly around him, as if the stone was absorbing all light into its inky depths like a swirling maelstrom, and a voice whispers from the unleashed darkness all around him. “Why have you called me to this place?”
The figure pulls back from the stone, but does not look around for the source of the voice, standing eyes closed before the stone, “To fight.”
“I will serve,” the darkness whispered back.
Posted by Ram Boy on :
The Emerald Empress. She's got her eye on....well, herself in this sketch I've made.
[ March 22, 2007, 02:37 AM: Message edited by: Ram Boy ]
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Excellent! Love the super throne... of space!
Posted by Ram Boy on :
Thank's S Lad. I've really been struggling trying to get the hang of drawing human figures using Photoshop, so that means alot.
[ March 20, 2007, 11:12 PM: Message edited by: Ram Boy ]
Posted by Monkey Eater Lad on :
Wow, I've got to get caught up on Set's story! And Ram Boy, those are great pics! Love the 3-D effect!
Posted by Set on :
quote: Wow, I've got to get caught up on Set's story!
The big climax is, um, not coming, because that sounds dirty, but it's *en route.* Yeah! En route!
Everything to date is up on my webpage for easier reading.
Posted by Dain on :
Ram Boy it's beautiful! And I love the Empress's expression. It's a rare thing to see Sarya in a pensive, maybe even wistful mood! Or is she deep in thought calculating her next move? Great job either way!
I gotta start reading the Emerald Legion fanfic soon!
[ March 21, 2007, 03:47 PM: Message edited by: Dain ]
Posted by Set on :
Rokk stood in the hallway, trying to figure out his thoughts. He finally turned to walk away when the door opened behind him.
~Rokk? What is it?~ Imra asked.
He smiled, having been ‘caught,’ “I was just looking for Garth, and then remembered that he was supposed to go out with Ayla this afternoon.”
~Come in.~ Imra said, placing her hand on his shoulder and tugging him gently towards her room. It didn’t seem like she was falling for his story.
Rokk allowed himself to be led into her room and just stood there, not knowing what to say.
~You and Jath have been having problems since Venegar, haven’t you?~ Imra urged.
“Yeah.” Rokk admitted, grudgingly, still refusing to meet her eyes.
~You *can* talk to me about this, Rokk, if you want to. I didn’t really like Jath at the beginning, but I respect how much she cares for you, and that’s all that matters.~
“It’s just not the same.”
~She stuck a sword through you, Rokk. We all know it wasn’t her fault, but she doesn’t seem like the sort of person who will let that go.~
“Every time my shirt is off, I catch her tracing that place with her fingers. I know there isn’t a scar, but it’s like she memorized the spot, and ends up drawn to it.” Rokk looked up finally, “I can’t really explain it. She’s like a force of nature, and I feel like I can’t even breath, like I’m drowning in her. But since Venegar, she’s been…”
~Holding back?~
“Yeah. Like she’s afraid of hurting me again.”
~Maybe she’s afraid of *being* hurt again, Rokk. It seems to me that she cares for you so much that seeing you like that felt like she was being cut open as well.~ Imra paused for a second, considering her thoughts, ~Kathooni Warriors take matters of strength and weakness very seriously, and for the first time, her feelings for you felt like a weakness.~
“I have no idea what to do, or say, to make this work…” Rokk admitted.
~It seems to me that any sign of hesitation or doubt is only going to reinforce any hesitation she has. If you want this to work, you have to surrender to it. If it doesn’t work, don’t let it be because *you* gave up, ‘Kid Cosmos.’~ Imra thought with a sly grin.
“Okay, even *I* can recognize child psychology, Imra…” Rokk said with a half-hearted grin. “I’m supposed to surrender, but not give up? How does that work, exactly?”
~The same way you’ve been doing this from the start, Rokk. Years and years of focus and dedication and *control,* always ruthless control, first from the years of competition, and then even harsher control from the year of rehabilitation. And you met Jath, the ‘force of nature’ that you could not control, and you surrendered to her. You let her take control of you, and make decisions for you and a part of you that was so tired of always being in control relished that freedom, relished that act of surrender. You need to remember that feeling, and at the same time, you need to be confident and sure, the same as you’ve always been. It sounds like a contradiction, but it’s who you are and I think it’s what you’ve been looking for all your life.~
Rokk just looked at Imra, unable to frame a response at first. Finally, he nodded, “Yeah. That sounds about right. It seemed like the only time I could *really* rest was when I was with Jath. When the nerve damage was at its worst, I was afraid to sleep, afraid that my heart would stop in the night, that the machines would fail, that I had to stay awake, keep concentrating on each and every heartbeat. I was terrified of letting go, of letting the machines take over for me.” He shook his head, “Garth was right, you really do know your stuff.”
Imra shook her head with a smile, ~Garth was the one who explained this to me, Rokk. I was still stuck wondering what you could possibly see in Jath, and he said, ‘She’s the one place where he doesn’t have to be in control every minute of every day. She’s the one place he can rest, and let someone else take charge for a little while.’~
“Okay, maybe Garth is the smart one, but don’t tell him I said that.” Rokk quipped.
“Sixteen remote attempts to gain access, one physical intrusion.” Dox reported. “Nux was wearing a chameleon suit, so you can’t see her on the monitors, save by this distortion, which I have enhanced.” He pointed a slender tool at the holographic representation of the T-access in the Embassy basement, and sure enough a very faint outline of a humanoid form could be seen.
“It’s been eight hours and she’s already tried to break security seventeen times?” Ayla said disbelievingly.
“And here,” Dox continued, as if she had not spoken, “viralware has infected her sensenet, convincing her that she has completed her mission, and that the package she carries now includes my central processing unit.” The image shifts and the blurry figure can be seen finally unfreezing from its position by the doorway and sneaking back away from the monitor’s visual field. “She will return to Colu immediately, under the false impression that she is under pursuit by the Venegarian Champions. Any discrepancies in her sensefeeds will be rationalized by damage suffered from electrical and magnetic assaults on her person by Champions Ranzz and Krinn.”
“And that buys us what, another day, tops?” Ayla asked.
“At minimum.” Dox said, looking around to make sure that he and Ayla were alone. He looked to her and his face was deadly serious. “Between yourself and I, Colu may have bigger issues to deal with than a single rogue Five.” His fingers danced over the monitor and tapped into United Planets security feeds, where two dozen UP representatives were in extraordinary (and, presumably, private) session, discussing whether or not to send a ‘fact-finding mission’ to Colu to investigate the status of the Fives.
Ayla looked impressed and leaned closer, “Between yourself and I, you’re going to show me how you did that.”
Dox ventured a smile.
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter 20 Long Day’s Journey into Night – wherein all of the author’s anal-retentive background development on Kathoon suddenly becomes relevant
The Queen had just gotten back from a long-winded ‘secret meeting’ on ‘the Coluan matter.’ It had been deemed ‘inappropriate’ for Sarya to be part of the delegation sent to Colu to personally investigate the matter, due to her personal involvement with the rogue Five Dox, but Sivar Banel of Titan and Ravin of Talok VIII were among the six Ambassadors leading the mission, and Sarya was confident that whatever their findings, her right to grant asylum to Querl Dox would not be reversed.
She made it to her audience room and had just gotten settled on her emerald throne when Dox signaled that he sought an audience through his Champion’s Ring.
“Highness,” he began with a perfunctory nod, floating into the room without actually looking where he was going, as if born to flight. “I have been perusing the datafiles seized from Tharok on Luna, and uncovered additional information.”
Sarya nodded for him to continue, noting with a sigh that he still hadn’t even looked up from his datapad.
“The files include several references to shipments of equipment, and I have correlated these shipments with those involved in the ‘Giant Killer Robot’ incident of some weeks past. According to the files, the primary purpose of this was to serve as a distraction while Tharok seized Champion Ardeen, so that he could use her telepathic tissues to enhance his Validus creation. The arrival of Jath changed the dynamic and Tharok chose to remain in hiding and simply make several high-intensity scans of her during the action.” Dox finally looked up. “As Validus was psi-active at the last encounter, it would seem that Tharok chose to complete the creature without Champion Ardeens direct contribution.”
“One more mystery resolved. Thank you Dox.” Sarya said.
“There is also fragmentary data on some form of psi-tech which…” Dox hesitated before admitting through gritted teeth, “I do not understand.” He then qualified, “Yet.”
Sarya’s datapad chirped, and she glanced down to see an incoming priority communication from Ambassador Marin. Holding up her finger to Dox, she answered the comm, “Kathoon, to what do I owe the pleasure of this comm?”
The Kathooni Ambassador’s voice was clipped, “Sarya, I must return to Kathoon immediately. Jath’s presence is required at this time.”
Sarya sent out a command through the Eye, Champion Krinn. Ambassador Marin needs to speak to Jath immediately. Before replying to the Ambassador, “I have sent for Jath. May I ask what is the occasion of this recall?”
The Ambassador looked down for a moment, and the sound of other figures moving around her could be heard before she looked up, eyes dark. “There is civil war on Kathoon. I have contacted the UP High Chancellor, and he has informed me that as Kathoon is not a member world, and this is purely ‘an internal affair,’ the United Planets cannot be involved.”
“I would be tempted to agree with that assessment…” Sarya confessed.
“As would I, under normal circumstances,” Marin agreed. “I would not ask for outworlder assistance in a purely internal matter, but in this case, alien mercenaries are involved, and reports indicate that they have unusual technology, or perhaps powers, that our people are having problems resisting.”
Dox looked up from his pad and interrupted, “Ambassador Marin, are there reports of a giant monster, or of Warriors weapons turning against them?”
Marin looked shocked, “Who speaks, Sarya? And how could he know of such things?”
“Valid questions.” Sarya said pointedly to Dox.
“Tharok’s data indicates that he intended to swarm a non-United Planets-affiliated world with his attack force of these Validus creatures. Without UP protection, he would likely quickly take control of such a world. Your Champions have foiled his intentions to raise an army of these creatures, and yet he has gathered together instead a force of super-human criminals from Takron-Galtos. While Kathoon was not specifically mentioned in these files, it fits his specifications perfectly. I believe that Tharok has chosen Kathoon as his target.”
The Queen closed her eyes before proceeding. “Marin, I request permission to accompany you to Kathoon.”
“United Planets interference would be technically unlawful, Sarya. I would not ask you to risk your status.” Marin cautioned.
Sarya smiled grimly, “A UP observer should go, to substantiate or refute these rumors of alien interference, which the UP *could* deem sufficient provocation to act. If that ‘observer’ were to find herself under attack, it would be an unfortunate necessity for her own super-powered aliens to defend their Queen with appropriate force…”
Ambassador Marin shook her head, but smiled as she did, “Ravin warned me that you had taken an interest in dangerous games, Sarya. I would not refuse your status as ‘observer.’” Marin looked down at another pad. “We are negotiating for passage even now, I will contact you when we have a departure time.”
Sarya smiled, “Venegar has a single star-cruiser. It should be capable of holding your people and my own, although not in any sort of comfort. If you would prefer, I could contact you with a departure time…”
Marin looked concerned for a moment, “It is possible that I would be in no position to repay this courtesy, Sarya. I do not wish to place my world in Venegar’s debt…”
“I have my own reasons to wish to see these aliens removed from your world, and returned to Takron-Galtos, Marin. Do not mistake my offer for charity.” Sarya said sharply, recognizing that Kathooni pride was as prickly as Venegarian.
Marin nodded, the matter apparently settled in her mind. “Please contact me when your ship will be ready to depart. My people are ready at your word.”
Sarya, her Champions, Dox, Ayla, Jath and the Kathooni delegation gathered at the starport, where the Venegarian cruiser had been readied for departure with impressive speed.
“Diplomatic privilege has its perks.” Garth said admiringly, as the crews worked at break-neck pace to ready the ship for take-off, while non-diplomatic traffic was re-routed to make room for the unscheduled departure.
Jath’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her former companions. “Where is Kand?”
Larn, the Warrior representing Clan Auri, responded dryly, “Kand vanished over a day ago. She had been silent for several days, and then simply left, around the time your people encountered the monster on this worlds’ moon. It should not surprise you to learn that Clan Sangti is the primary aggressor in the war…”
Jath looked to Vala, the Warrior from Clan Lateen, Sangti’s greatest ally, “And Lateen?”
Vala grunted, “My Clan has sided with the Sangti, as always. When we arrive on Kathoon, I will be required to fight against you, my friends.” She crossed her arms. “Until I receive such an order, I will obey Marin, as is my duty.” She looked at a nail idly, decorated in delicate platinum tracery, “If the Ambassador were to order me to remain on the ship, I would be unable to receive such orders…”
“We shall see, Vala,” Marin said. “If Sangti has indeed recruited alien mercenaries to seize power, I will indeed ask you to safeguard Queen Sarya’s ship from attack. But if the combat is honorable, I will ask Sarya to remain on this ship, and you will be required to fight for your Clan.”
Vala nodded, and the group boarded as the launch crew evacuated the pad.
Garth quickly moved up to the pilot’s seat and stood behind the pilot, an older Venegarian man named Rinti. “Ah, Champion Krinn, is it?”
“Ranzz.”
“Yes, whichever. I suppose you would like to fly again?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to take you from your duties,” Garth began, failing to hide his enthusiasm as the pilot vacated the pilots seat and went to sit at the nav-computer. “You realize that you are not authorized to fly a cruiser of this size, young Champion?” the pilot said rhetorically, as he tuned in his comm-piece and began to talk with flight control about the impending departure.
Garth quickly sat down as he heard the pilot announce impending launch, furiously pressing buttons to try and keep up with Rinti’s announcements. Smiling the old man spoke faster…
“It will be eight hours before we reach Kathoon,” Marin announced. “Before we arrive, I should explain the pretext behind this ‘civil war.’”
Garth, Ayla and Rinti listened via the intercom from the pilot’s cabin, while the others were crowded into the passenger cabin.
“Kathooni history goes back 2400 years. It is said that our people were under attack by the endless armies of a war-god known as Aers, who was offended that our warrior-women were more skilled than his own male soldiers. According to the tales, our people lived on an island kingdom, and the war-god was striding across the channel to finish the final conflict when our own goddesses appeared and saved our people. Atheen, the Great Builder, crafted a great ship of metal to carry our people beyond the war-gods reach. Temeese, the Great Huntress, shot a single arrow into his eye, to blind him. Aphrodisia, the Great Spirit, gathered up the souls of our fallen and caused them to leave the world behind, along with their surviving kin, carried away by the great ship. The goddesses arranged for the ship to carry us into a dark hiding place, right under the bloody eye of Aers, where he would never be able to see us. The blood-red sun of Kathoon, we call Aers Eye, and Kathoon itself is locked in perpetual shadow, hidden from that great eye by the sister-planet that shares our worlds orbit. The great ship remains, serving as the center of our capital city, and the high temple of our faith. Deep within its bowels lies our world’s most sacred place, which no outworlder has even heard of, before now.” Several of the Warriors looked displeased at the idea of this being shared even now, but kept their silence. “All Seers and Warriors visit the temple, to face the challenges. I faced challenges of perception and will, and chose to serve Atheen, of the All-Seeing Eyes. The Warriors face physical challenges, testing strength of limb and strength of purpose, before they can be accepted by Temeese, of the Strong Arm. The third goddess, Aphrodisia, of the Loving Heart, accepts no challengers. The statue of Temeese shows her in animal leathers with a breastplate of metal, holding a blade in one hand and a bow upraised over her head, raised in triumph, her foot placed upon the body of an unknown beast. This beast is nothing native to Kathoon, and it was accepted that the beast was a creature of our forgotten home-world.” Marin produced a pad and displayed an image of the statue in question. Neither Rokk, Imra nor Sarya recognized the beast, but Dox’s eyes blurred for a moment and he pronounced, “Sus scrofa. A wild boar, native to Earth.”
Marin nodded. “Correct. And there lies the roots of our current conflict. Upon discovering the identity of the beast in Earth files, and of the existence of ancient deities named Athena, Artemis and Aphrodite, among the cultures of ancient Greece, I reported back to Kathoon that Earth was likely our lost home-world.”
“Some welcomed this knowledge, but many rejected it. Clan Sangti, in particular, deemed it heresy, and Clan Lateen sided with them.”
Vala, of Lateen, interrupted then. “Clan Sangti has always sought excuses to increase their power. This is yet another pretense.”
“Be that as it may, currently Sangti is the most powerful Clan, and with Lateen at their side, they would already be a threat to the combined might to the other four main Clans, even without outworlder assistance.”
Larn, of Auri, piped up, “And yet,” she said, pointing at Sarya, “Do not you also bring outworlder assistance? I have no love for the Sangti, but we are not yet even sure if they behave with dishonor, and already we flirt with dishonor ourselves…”
Sarya spoke up before Marin could refute this, “I have chosen to travel to Kathoon as an observer. *If* there are alien mercenaries, my people may assist against them without intruding on personal matters of Kathooni politics. If there are no alien mercenaries, we will not interfere, unless attacked, and even then, only act to defend ourselves.”
Marin nodded her assent, “This is correct, and as it should be.” Seeing that Larn seemed satisfied with this answer, she continued on to discuss more mundane matters, “As Kathoon, like Braal, has a high concentration of dissolved metals in it’s atmosphere, everyone but Champion Krinn will need to use some form of life support, to avoid inhaling toxic levels of metals…”
[ March 22, 2007, 02:52 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Set on :
Emerald Legion, Chapter twenty-one (part one) Lebensraum – the sticky, and hopefully mutually-gratifying, climax
Ambassador Marin guided the Venegarian cruiser through the magnetic storms that encircled Kathoon, and the cruiser descended into a smoke-filled sky over the capital city. The grand temple glistened in the firelight in the center of the old city, and fires could be seen raging along the avenues leading to the three entrances of the structure. Even in the unsteady lighting, the presence of alien mercenaries was obvious, due to the towering bulk of Validus, and the brilliant discharges of Mano’s explosive touch and the Green Dragons deadly vision.
The cruiser dropped briefly to near ground level, and the Warriors dropped fearlessly to land atop a building near the High Temple itself. Sarya and her Champions descended gracefully from the sky, born aloft by their Champion’s Rings and the power of the Emerald Eye of Ekron. Ayla’s descent was unsteady, as she had only been granted a Ring moments before, but she still landed without incident, and Sarya lowered Ambassador Marin to the ground personally. Seeing the presence of outworlders, Vala, of Clan Lateen, requested to be ordered to ‘guard the ship’ rather than be called into a combat she saw as dishonorable, and Marin acceded to her request. Once his passengers had debarked, Rinti quickly ascended high into the sky, to avoid attack.
Even before the flying Champions had reached the ground, shouts of alarm rang out. “Outworlders!” proclaimed the leader of a squadron of Auri, rushing to engage this new threat dropping from the skies, but Larn, herself of Clan Auri, managed to forestall violence long enough for Ambassador Marin to explain the situation. Larn left with her Clan-sisters, to deal with an incursion to the south, having already surrendered the western approach, due to the presence of the aliens.
Reaching the steps to the western entrance to the High Temple, Ambassador Marin commanded the Auri and Genti on-guard there to pull back and allow the ‘outworlders to kill each other,’ as she and Sarya had already agreed, phrasing it in such a way as to discourage any disagreement from her fellows. Gallia, High Seer of Clan Auri was in command and agreed, sounding horns to signal retreat. Dozens of battered Warriors, as well as hundreds of common soldiers, both male and female, retreated into the cover of the High Temple.
Noting that many of the Warriors lacked their traditional metal armor, and carried chunks of masonry or wooden support beams as makeshift weaponry, Rokk realized that Kort must be present as well.
~We need to go out and engage them. Fighting them at the steps of the Temple will leave us no fall-back position, and we’ll need to separate them.~ Imra broadcast, and the Champion’s soared out to meet their foes.
Sarya also began to move, at a more measured pace, towards the battlefield and Ambassador Marin turned to Jath and said pointedly, “The Queen is our guest and will not come to harm while you draw breath,” and then stepped into the Temple, saying only, “I go to rouse the gods,” and passing out of sight.
The Genti Seer, Kaelin, declared, “Madness! Your time off-world has tainted your mind, Marin.” Before turning to Jath. “Jath. You will move to the southern ward and assist your Clan.”
Jath looked torn for a moment, before stating firmly, “My duty to the Ambassador is not yet discharged. I will not dishonor our Clan by deserting my post.”
Kaelin looked furious at this refusal and walked up to Jath, seizing her hand and tearing a silver ring off of her hand, “You cannot dishonor our Clan, for you have no Clan,” before turning away, hurling the silver ring clattering off into the darkened streets.
Jath’s fists clenched, and she saw her sisters reach for their blades, and then turned to follow Sarya towards battle.
~Stick to the plan, everyone. Any one of these foes can kill one of us in an instant if we don’t keep them off-balance.~ Imra reminded them.
Rokk had pulled on Imra’s platinum-group head-gear and broadcast through his Champion’s Ring, “I’m psi-shielded, stick to Ring-broadcasts from now on.”
Validus, predictably, was the first visible target, and Rokk sent a dozen tiny missiles of metal debris at him to batter at his head. As predicted, the metal flung itself away and he could detect the presence of Kort, batting his missiles out of the air with magnetic blasts, “There he is.” He broadcast, and was reassured to see a barrage of lightning strike the ground at Kort’s feet, blasting him down. A second discharge struck Kort directly, and his body jerked and fell again, and he heard Ayla’s whoop of victory.
Rokk quickly seized a much larger piece of metallic debris and slammed it into Validus’ monstrous ‘face’ with all of his might, quickly flying backwards through the air from the same direction. The beast roared and, as hoped, pursued Rokk, stomping forwards with shocking speed, launching a crackling discharge of psionic energy that Rokk just managed to avoid. Rokk moved over the buildings towards some sort of park of metal-barked trees, with anemone-like fronts waving in the air where they should have had leaves, hoping to use the cover of the buildings and the forest to slow down the titan’s advance.
Garth engaged Mano, taking advantage of flight and range to pepper him with lightning blasts. Mano proved unable to this strategy, but Garth’s lightning blasts failed to penetrate his containment suit, merely blasting him off of his feet and annoying him. It quickly becomes a deadly game of keep-away, Mano’s bare hands rumbling like thunder as they annihilate the air around him.
Nyeun Chun Ti sees Imra, hovering above the battlefield, and flings his Atomic Axe at her, but she narrowly manages to avoid it, only to see the Axe shimmer and vanish as it passes her, to reappear instantly in the Persuaders iron-gloved fist. She reaches out to attempt a psychic assault, only to feel that his mind is shielded by what feels like a second mind, a small animal-like presence that resists her assault with a selfless ferocity. The Persuader ignores her and sees Sarya moving forward, and raises his arm to throw again, when Jath strikes him like a missile, bearing him to the ground, seizing both wrists in an unbreakable grasp and preventing him from being able to bring his Axe to bear. They roll around on the ground until she ends up on top, pinning both arms and then slamming her own head into his metal-armored face-plate so hard that the cobblestones beneath his head crack and her own face is bloodied from the impact.
Kort is still twitching and Ayla blasts him one more time, before she is blindsided by the Green Dragon, who has leapt into the air and thrown her to the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Getting to her feet, she sees him hovering in the air and raises her hand, but as the lightning blasts forth he seems to disappear and all she can see is a blur running along the ground. As fast as her lightning tracks, Jo Nah has crossed the distance untouched and his arm is against her neck, slamming her back into a wall. Lightning crashes into him again and again, but he seems completely unaffected, and while he doesn’t seem nearly as strong as she would have expected, he’s strong enough, and neither her lightning nor her desperate attempt at kicking him in the groin seems to cause him the slightest discomfort. He stares into her eyes, his own face blank, and Ayla can see stars starting to swim around in the growing darkness.
Dox has located his own target atop a building, surveying his forces and barking some sort of orders into a comm-unit on his wrist. Tharok’s voice is mechanical, and yet rings with confidence, “Green Dragon, kill the girl, and then incapacitate the telepath.” He spins as Dox lands across the roof from him, “Coluan.” His body twitches slightly as the two man-machines begin attempting to co-opt each others data-systems. “I have beaten your kind before. This is pointless.”
Suddenly his mechanical limb sparks and his internal weapon system powers down. His human eye narrows, “Modular programs, independently harmless, but assembling into threats after being designated low-priority threats. Clever,” he concedes.
Dox remains silent, arms hanging loosely at his sides, devoting every shred of processing power to the combat occurring invisibly between the two cyborgs, and thousands of lines of malicious code fill the air around them, circling like wolves, awaiting a moment of weakness so that they might disable or destroy the other.
Seeing that Jath has restrained the Persuader, Sarya turns to see if she can assist elsewhere, only to feel her breastplate buckle under a devastating blow that hurls her into the air. She can’t draw breath, but manages to use the Emerald Eye to halt her flight before slamming into a metal-barked tree, near where the Validus creature had been lured. Forced to tear her breastplate from her body, and feeling her body protest as she draws a shuddering breath, she looks up to see Kand dropping from the sky with a loud impact.
“I was going to kill Jath, but by killing you, I will dishonor her first.” Kand said, stalking forward, drawing a short steel blade, edged on both sides. “Then I will tear her mate apart,” Kand continued, lost her in fantasies, circling Sarya like a predatory beast.
Sarya drew her own curved dueling blade, hissing with pain as she stretched wounded limbs. “Shut up and fight, traitor,” the Queen growls as the Emerald Eye suddenly filled the clearing with a brilliant emerald radiance.
Kand laughed, tapping goggles over her eyes that instantly polarized and turned dark red in color. “I have prepared for your Champions and their bright lightning,” she thumped the ceramic armor covering her chest, “*and* magnetic sorcery.” The Sangti Warrior moved forward with a blur of speed and Sarya barely managed to flip out of her way, cursing her cracked ribs for slowing her down. Still, Kand’s blade only managed to tear her cloak, and the Queen quickly pulled her cloak off and wrapped it around her off hand, as an impromptu shield. Kand moved forward again, pressing the attack gracelessly and Sarya used the Eye to rise into the air and strike Kand in the head with her own blade as she passed beneath, landing gentle as a feather behind the disoriented Warrior. Sarya’s blow struck true, and Kand’s protective goggles fell away, their strap severed, and she raised her hand to cover her eyes with a growl. “Enough playing around, outworlder, now you die.”
Reaching behind her, Kand’s hand fell upon a tree and she stepped back and effortlessly pushed the massive tree down in the direction of the blinding emerald glare. It was all Sarya could do, pushing both her own hurting body and the psychokinetic force of the Eye to throw herself clear, but even avoiding the main trunk, her body was whipped by the many long thin fronds that extended from the slender branches. Kand charged forwards again, like a rampaging beast, and Sarya just managed to step to the side again, lashing out with her blade.
Kand felt a tugging sensation at her throat, and attempted to mock Sarya for catching only her own cloak, only to find that her mouth was filled with blood and no sound would come out. Raising her hand, she felt that Sarya’s blade had cut her throat as they passed, and she looked up to see the emerald glow fade. The Queen stood, blade down and dripping with blood, wearing a look of weary resignation. Kand raised her blade and flung it with all her might, calling upon the names of her ancestors, resolved to not die alone. But the strength did not come at her call, and her blade arced clumsily through the air, to be batted aside effortlessly by the Queen. Oblivion rushed to greet her and Kand’s world became darkness.
Through the Champion’s Ring, a wordless cry of desperation from Ayla draws both Garth and Imra’s attention to her plight. Imra attempts to seize control of Jo Nah’s mind, only find that he too is shielded, again by some feral dedicated presence. Garths lightning blasts join Ayla’s in vainly impacting against the Green Dragon’s invulnerable skin, and Imra takes the fight to whatever is defending the criminals mind, focusing all of her power against this animalistic presence. It fights her savagely, and she pinpoints it as a tiny device, as much organism as machine, attached to the back of the man’s neck, and she quickly deceives its primitive mind into going dormant.
From her vantage point, Ayla can see her attackers face change suddenly and his grip lets up. Something moves on his neck and she pours another electrical surge into him, matching the endless stream of electricity coming down from her airborne brother. Their two-pronged assault is rewarded with a crackling pop as some device on her attacker’s back suddenly fries and he staggers back, releasing her to drop to the cobblestones, gasping for breath.
The sound of an explosion and a cry of pain pulls Ayla back into consciousness, as she sees her brother fall from the sky. Mano has leapt into the air and grabbed at Garth’s arm, and now Garth is slamming into the ground like a sack of meat. She can see Mano land gracelessly near him and rising to his feet, and moving towards her unmoving brother.
~Garth!~ comes a telepathic cry in all of their minds, as Imra descends, heedless of the danger.
The air rushes around her, and suddenly there is another explosion. Mano is gone, hurtling off into the distance, and the Green Dragon is lying several yards distant, having been blasted from his feet by the mere act of striking his fellow criminal. Imra has already landed and Ayla rushes over, to see that Garth is alive, but that his left arm is completely gone, blasted from his body by the force of the anti-matter man’s touch.
~Cauterize the wound, Ayla. We have to get him into the High Temple.~ Imra thought, but Ayla was unable to react, and turns suddenly when she feels the presence behind her. The Green Dragon is standing there, burnt and bloody from his own contact with Mano, and in his hand, he’s holding Garth’s left forearm. “He’s going to need the Ring. The atmosphere will kill him,” the Rimborian criminal said distantly, looking down at the fallen Champion. “We were ordered to collect the Rings. Tharok wants to use them to take control of some Eye thing, and then he can rule Venegar, too,” he said, matter-of-factly, twisting the Ring off of Garth’s hand and handing to Ayla. “Put this on his other hand.”
Ayla snatched the Ring away from the former crook, placing it on her brothers remaining hand. “We need to get him to safety.”
Imra looked up, ~We’re not going to have time for that…~ she warned, and Ayla looked up to see that a dozen Sangti and Lateen Warriors had advanced to point swords at them.
A Sangti Seer raises her iron bow and says in a cold tone, “Kill them all.” One of the Sangti Warriors, hefting a cart over her head, suddenly cries out and the cart crashes down upon her. Two others, each holding weapons far too heavy to be born aloft by humanoid strength, also cry out, felled by their own burdens. Several other Sangti find that they cannot draw their over-strung bows of iron, and the Lateen Seer quickly pulls back and cries out, “Stand down! The gods have abandoned the Sangti cause!”
As one, the Lateen draw back, one Warrior tossing aside a heavy weapon of her own, for fear of being similarly stricken.
The Sangti Seer repeats, in the same cold tone, “Kill them.” And the Warriors charge forward into a barrage of lightning from Ayla and bright burning rays from the Green Dragon’s eyes.
~Most are also controlled by the psi-devices on their necks!~ Imra announced to all present, ~They cannot control their actions, and I can’t fight them all!~
Jath appears in their midst, throwing them around like children, lacking none of her Warrior strength, and the Lateen Seer suddenly declares, “Subdue the Sangti, they are controlled by outworlder machines!”
With that, the combat ends quickly, as the Lateen Warriors, also retaining their great strength, almost effortlessly subdue the struggling Sangti. At least a dozen Sangti fighters, lacking Warrior strength, but also apparently not controlled by Tharok’s machines, help to restrain their struggling Clan-sisters.
As the other Warriors restrain the remaining controlled Sangti, Jath turns to the others, “Champion Ardeen, see to your mate. Ayla, I beg you to take me to Validus.”
Ayla looks torn, but at a nod from Imra agrees, floating up into the air and grabbing ahold of Jath. “Hold on.”
Jo Nah looks around, seeing that Jath has wrapped the unconscious Persuader in metal, arms behind his back, so that he wouldn’t be able to take hold of his missing Axe even if he regained consciousness. He then takes off into the air, following Ayla towards the park where Validus can be seen pushing trees over in a rampage.
Posted by Set on :
Rokk had spent what felt like hours attempting to keep ahead of the monster, tearing off the mag-steel components of his Champion’s Garb and using them as projectiles. Accelerating them into the brute as he flew, he knew that they weren’t really damaging the beast, merely stinging it and keeping it furious. As long as he kept it moving, it hadn’t stopped to attempt another mind-blast, which was the only reason that he was still in the air, as just being on the edge of one of the psionic assaults had nearly blasted him from the sky, psi-shielding or not. He had drained all ten of the mag-steel power-spheres from his Champion’s Garb in the process of using them as makeshift projectiles, and had resorted to picking up a storm of debris from the fallen trees, with their oh-so-convenient metal bark, blinding the creature with a constant cloud of swirling rubble. His magnetic reserves were tapped, and only the power of the Champion’s Ring kept him aloft at this point, as he no longer had the strength to boost his own speed magnetically. He knew it couldn’t last, and so the sight of lightning blasts joining the fray elicited a sigh of relief.
“I am so glad to see you, Garth,” he sent through the Champion’s Ring, only to get an unfamiliar reply.
“No Garth, hopefully I’ll do,” Ayla broadcast curtly, as she swept far too close to the flailing brute, only to release a dark-clad missile of her own. Jath dropped to land at the beast’s feet and struck with both hands as hard as she could on the giant’s three-toed foot, causing it to rear back, howling in pain.
The beast struck downward with its oversized fist, and Rokk choked back a scream, as he saw only an impression in the ground where his wife had been standing a moment before. An unfamiliar blast of energy struck the creature in the face, and he turned to see the Green Dragon, eyes crackling with energy, and Jath, standing some distance away, with Jath looking disoriented, but unharmed.
Validus turned and it’s heard started crackling with the beginnings of another psychic blast directed at the newcomers, and Rokk dropped low and attempted to knock the creature off-balance by slamming into the back of one of its tree-trunk sized legs with his body. Simultaneously, Ayla unleashed a massive two-handed lightning surge directly into its side, and the beast staggered, its mental blast going wide and missing Jath and the Green Dragon. Both Jath and Jo Nah leapt, into its chest, each striking with superhuman force, and bearing it to the ground in a thunderous crash. Both Jath and the Green Dragon leapt clear, and Jath reacted first, seizing up a fallen tree and using it as an oversized club to strike the beast in the head, while it was still on the ground. Jo Nah quickly followed suit, and combined with a seemingly constant stream of lightning into its eyeless face, Validus finally shuddered and fell still.
While the battle resolved itself below, Dox and Tharok remained locked in cybernetic battle, each attempting to subvert or disrupt the programming of the other. Tharok meanwhile received reports as the psi-implant of Jo Nah went dead, followed by signals indicating incapacitation of the Persuader, Mano and finally even the seemingly unstoppable Validus.
Activating shunt protocol, Tharok was surprised to find that even this failsafe seemed uncooperative, and Dox finally spoke aloud, as if to the empty air. “Tharok is attempting to teleport away. Stop him.”
Tharok favored a twisted half-smile with the flesh side of his face, “None of your companions are present, Coluan, and none could block a dimensional shunt, in any event.” He suddenly looked down as blue-skinned arms thrust up from the darkened rooftop, and uttered a short, sharp cry as he was pulled into the hungry darkness.
Dox watched impassively as a figure arose from the shadows, resolving itself into a dark-skinned Talokkian female, clad in scanty scraps of cloth and armor, with a massive cloak melting formlessly into the darkness behind her. Draped casually over one shoulder, she held the Persuaders Atomic Axe. “How long have you known I was here?”
Dox didn’t bother to reply, closing his eyes and calling through the Champion’s Ring. “Champion Ardeen, I require immediate assistance. As anticipated, I have contracted several hundred cyberneural viruses and am incapable of physical motion…”
Seer Gallia of the Auri called for silence in the meeting hall of the High Temple. The Seers of Clans Cupri, Genti, Lateen and Antalus quieted their respective factions, and the de-powered Seers and Warriors of Clan Sangti stood notably apart from the rest.
“Marin’s body has been found in the Inner Sanctum. As she swore to do, she indeed roused the gods, and the ancestors of the Sangti chose to retain the honor of their Clan by denying their strength and wisdom to the current generation. We owe Clan Cupri a debt for her sacrifice.”
Holding up a spider-shaped implant of glistening ceramic and stolen neural tissue, Gallia continued, “The devices used by this outworlder to control the Seers and many of the Warriors of Clan Sangti have been removed, and that threat is done. Let Clan Sangti suffer no further dishonor for actions that were not of their own doing. In time, Sangti shall again count Warriors and Seers among them. Until that time, they shall lack a voice on the high council, as is the law.”
She called up a holographic image of the subdued outworlders. Each had been fitted in restraints designed by Querl Dox, and in an act of irony, Tharok’s own psi-implants had been used to keep them unconscious.
“The outworlders who assaulted us shall be removed from this world, by the outworlders who came to our aid at Marin’s request. I move to join the United Planets, so that we have some voice in the matter of their punishment. Aers has found us, and war has come to our world. The time of hiding is done, sisters. Now is the time when we find allies willing to stand with us, and join them in honorable battle.”
A Seer from each of the five remaining voting Clans stepped forward, and raised her hand in support of the High Seers proposal.
“It is settled. Seer Shatra of Lateen is to be our new Ambassador, as her quick decision at the moment of Marin’s sacrifice averted much bloodshed. Shatra, you will accompany Sarya of Venegar back to the world of Earth, and make preparations for our proposal to join the United Planets.”
Turning to Queen Sarya, who was standing stiffly, ribs bandaged, Gallia bowed her head, golden ringlets jingling in her hair, “We owe Venegar a great debt.” Looking to Garth, the only seated figure in the room, bandages covering the stump of his missing arm and being supported half-conscious by Ayla and Imra, “You have risked much, and paid a great price for a people who never asked for your help. You recognized the dishonor of outworlder intervention, and chose to limit your own actions to those who had already dishonored our traditions. Marin of Cupri has joined our ancestors, and her memories of your honor are now known to all Seers, Sarya of Venegar. I repay this debt by offering our hand in friendship, and by forfeiting our right to salvage on the space vessel of Tharok. As your own vessel was damaged in your pilot’s misadventures,” Gallia glanced with raised eyebrow at the sling-wearing Venegarian pilot, who looked away embarrassed, “We shall endeavor to repair your craft, while allowing you to depart in the other ship.”
Vala of Lateen clapped the old pilot on the shoulder, recalling their own impulsive decision to seek out Tharok’s unmanned vessel and attempt to seize or destroy it. The ship was exactly where they suspected it would be, hovering over the Sangti’s mountain fortress, but the Venegarian ship had been heavily damaged by the cloaked vessels automated defenses, and Rinti had barely managed to land safely. In a typically Warrior-like feat of mad bravery, Vala had leapt clear as they passed near the now-visible alien craft, and torn her way into the ship with her great strength, ‘seizing control’ via the expediment of punching a hole in the command system, leaving the vessel floating aimlessly, without direction, until Dox arrived to more precisely take control.
“My thanks also to Talokk, young Champion,” Gallia said to the shadowy figure standing apart from Venegar’s Champions. “We also owe a debt to your world.”
Tasmia Mallor, Champion of Talokk VIII, still holding the Persuaders Atomic Axe possessively, bowed her head.
“And what will become of this male?” Gallia questioned, pointed towards Jo Nah.
Sarya stepped forward. “He also was under the thrall of Tharok’s machines. His actions in saving Champion Ranzz, and helping to defeat the monster Validus, reveal to me his true nature. Nevertheless, it is a matter for United Planets justice.”
“Then it is settled. It is time for us to mourn the fallen and comfort those who yet live.” Gallia decreed, clapping her hands sharply, dismissing those present.
The various Clans began to disperse, but Kaelin of Genti came forward to stand before Jath. Her face was impassive, and she seemed to have no words to say. After a long moment, her hand came forward, to present a silver ring to Jath.
Jath looked at the ring and closed her eyes for a moment. Finally, she lifted her own hand before Kaelin to reveal the new emerald Champion’s Ring that sat on her finger. “It was an honor to serve Clan Genti, but I have a new Clan.”
Kaelin’s fist snapped shut on the silver ring and she turned abruptly and walked away.
Posted by Set on :
The Champions had been on Earth for less than a week and Rokk knew he'd find Garth and Imra in the med-center. He walked into the hospital room to find Garth and Imra facing the growth-tank, expectantly, Garth's temporary arm of metal resting on the transparency.
"And how is our bun in the oven today?" Rokk said with a grin, as Garth stepped aside to show off his new arm, still growing from cloned tissue. "I have fingers!" Garth said proudly, pointing at the fingers on the newly-forming limb, "See!"
"Very exciting," Rokk said agreeably.
“The freckles are all in the wrong places,” Garth muttered, not for the first time.
~It’s epigenetic, Garth, of course they are. You can just have them changed cosmetically anyway…~ Imra thought patiently, holding on to his living arm possessively.
“Or I could just have them removed…” he added.
~I like them.~ Imra countered.
“Or they could stay,” Garth agreed.
~So have you heard the word from Colu?~
“Not really. Are they still protesting Dox’s asylum?” Rokk asked.
~Not any more. *Somewhow,*~ Imra thought sarcastically, ~a Four brought a virus back to Colu that got into the infonet and infected 70,000 Fives with whatever is ‘wrong’ with Dox. They are all clamoring for full rights as citizens. Colu is in disarray, as they performed most of the computational work for the Threes and Fours…~
“We really need to keep an eye on that kid. He kinda scares me…” Garth admitted.
~And you haven’t even seen all the stuff going on inside his mind.~ Imra agreed.
"So," prompted Garth, "What news from Kathoon?" as Rokk had spent the last two days discussing a Kathooni / Braalian trade-pact with the new Kathooni Ambassador.
"It's a done deal," Rokk said proudly. "Shatra agreed that she'd rather be the most important client of a smaller company than one of a half-dozen off-world contracts from one of the megacorps."
~That's excellent, Rokk!~ Imra said, ~Your family should be very pleased.~
"Yeah, Pol's already signed up to be one of the first Blacksteel workers shuttled to Kathoon." Rokk said, with a wistful look.
~That's a good thing, right?~
"Well, yeah, I guess." Rokk said grudgingly, "But he's my baby brother. All innocent and naive, dashingly handsome, stuck for a year on a world full of statuesque and voraciously sexual Amazon warrior women who happen to find Braalian males irresistable..."
"Yeah, that must suck," Garth said with a grin, before quickly amending his comment with a glance towards Imra, "better him than me!"
Imra smiled and rested her head on Garths chest, ~What my boyfriend *meant* to say was 'lucky bastard.'~
"I thought we agreed no mind-reading, dear," Garth protested half-heartedly.
~I don't need telepathy to tell that you're a guy, Garth.~ Imra thought dryly.
“So, I did hear that we’ve got another Champion?” Garth said, changing the subject.
"Two, actually." Rokk clarified. "Jo Nah has been released from Takron-Galtos to ‘serve out the rest of his sentence under the personal recognizance of Sarya of Venegar.’ His exact reply was, 'sounds better than going back to prison.'"
~Doesn't sound very Champion-like,~ Imra thought with a look of disapproval.
"Yeah, well, I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt for saving Garth from Mano's follow-up attack," Rokk admitted, "and helping us take down Validus."
"Better stay away from sister, is all I'm saying," Garth muttered. "She's all, 'Jo can do this,' and 'Jo can do that.' It's like he can walk on clouds, assuming that isn't yet another one of his uber-energy dragon-force whatever-the-sprock it is..."
"Yeah, he does have a completely unnecessary amount of powers," Rokk conceded.
~Jealous, boys?~ Imra teased, eyebrow arched.
"Of him? Please. Jath is way hotter than Ayla." Rokk asserted, as if that settled the matter.
"Hey, that's my sister," Garth began, and then stopped himself, "and I am *not* going to be sucked into a conversation about the relative hotness of my sister, because that's disturbing and wrong."
~So do I dare ask who our other new recruit is?~ Imra thought, with a dubious expression.
"Her very special-ness," Rokk began sarcastically, "'the Champion of Talokk VIII' explained to Ambassador Ravin that he was right when he told her that she could do more good for Talokk working with us. She’s also joining up, and Ravin’s not speaking to us again this week..."
“Does she have to mention being 'the Champion of Talokk VIII' every. Sprocking. Time. she opens her mouth?" Garth said, rolling his eyes.
~So, eight of us now.~ Imra said, diplomatically changing the topic.
"Yup. Sarya said that our numbers are becoming legion. She’s already calling us her ‘Emerald Legion.’" Rokk said with a grin.
~I like it.~ Imra decided.
“I’ve always liked big families.” Garth said with a smile. From his angle he couldn't see Imra's eyes shoot wide with alarm, and so had no clue why Rokk started laughing...
Next time I decide to write up a climactic final battle including Garth, Imra, Rokk, Ayla, Querl, Tasmia, Sarya, Lydda, Kand, Jo, Kort, Nyeun, Tharok, Mano, Validus and a cast of hundreds, shoot me...
Next time I'm gonna write a haiku or something!
Sarya's Champions Many heroes, many worlds Emerald Legion!
*****************************************
All 21 chapters are available on my website for ease of reading.
Author's Notes are also available, for any whackjob who wants to know more about the Venegarian Clan structure (note #23), what happened during 'Kid Cosmos' Championship matches (#17), Coluan history (#9), the Carggite wormholes (#12) or Kathooni sexuality (#27).
Feedback is welcome. Unless it's mean, in which case I'll cry.
[ March 25, 2007, 07:57 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Posted by Fat Cramer on :
[ March 24, 2007, 04:50 PM: Message edited by: Fat Cramer ]
Posted by Set on :
I like the jewelry advert. Particularly cool how it follows a 'five' motif (as in Fatal Five) with the pentacles.
Posted by minesurfer on :
Custom Green Action Figures:
from 2003:
And just for fun from 2004:
The Internal Green Fire
The Ultimate "Green" Hero if you will:
Posted by Sketch Lad on :
Posted by Loser Lad on :
Repostin'!
Emerald Vi by Jeff Moy, colors by me.
The Empress and Validus by the late, great Mike Wieringo
Posted by Candle on :
I found her somewhere here or there or . . . and I'm changing computer bases and the one I've been using doesn't have a way to download anything. I don't want to loose this one - Posted by Candle on :
Just for silliness' sake:
Posted by Candle on :
The Empress of Vengar, very early in her relationship with the Eye of Ekron:
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
