Vaxur smiled nervously- not at the weapon being pointed at them, I mean, they probably were intruding anyway, but-
Commander Wyr was no doubt displeased at the open threat. Normally she would have more patience, especially in these types of situations, but ever since her cadet went missing-
Well.
She was too stressed. And stress made her snappy.
You did not want a snappy Wylaseen.
"Woah, woah, let's not get too hasty with this," he said, light, gentle, but firm, a quiet confidence in his stance even as he put his hands up in a calming gesture. "Let's not assume any hostility right away, yeah? We're not serving any empire, we work in the military. And, nice, you know we're from another universe- we're actually looking for a teammate of ours." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Long story short, he was involved in an accident which inadvertently transported him here. That's it."
He saw Commander Wyr straighten to her full, 7 feet height out of the corner of his eye. He inwardly sighed in relief as she tilted her head in an affirmative nod.
Progress.
Commander Wyr was no doubt displeased at the open threat. Normally she would have more patience, especially in these types of situations, but ever since her cadet went missing-
Well.
She was too stressed. And stress made her snappy.
You did not want a snappy Wylaseen.
"Woah, woah, let's not get too hasty with this," he said, light, gentle, but firm, a quiet confidence in his stance even as he put his hands up in a calming gesture. "Let's not assume any hostility right away, yeah? We're not serving any empire, we work in the military. And, nice, you know we're from another universe- we're actually looking for a teammate of ours." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Long story short, he was involved in an accident which inadvertently transported him here. That's it."
He saw Commander Wyr straighten to her full, 7 feet height out of the corner of his eye. He inwardly sighed in relief as she tilted her head in an affirmative nod.
Progress.
Desert planet Glinmere
The rolling sand dunes seem endless as the ATT rolled across the desert, the only the vehicle that can be seen currently in the sea of the desolate wasteland. Within the fighting compartment, the squad of Z bots sat in there seats quiet fiddling with there rifles or fingers till one says "So sarge, why are we here, again?" the grizzly looking sergeant looks up after messing with his assault rifle and says "We are here in looking for an ancient AI called Marlow. A relic of Lord Arena's tenure as Lord of technology" as he looks at the solider who asked the question. Another of one then asks "How the hell does an old AI would be all out in the desert? Is there base that we are going towards?" The sarge shook his head and as pulls out a cigar and begins to smoke and says "Nope, apparently Marlow someone integrated himself in that infamous tank called Snake-eyes and has been on move the lately"
"Snake-eyes? You mean that black tank that gave us problems back in 481? Jeez I heard the stories but its been such long time!" the solider who spoke first says with eyes all wide. "The very same legendary tank and that's who we are getting" the sage states, but keeps some of the info back from the rest of his men, knowing the true reason why they after Marlow and the tank nicked-named "Snake-eyes". They soon found find out as the ATT out of no where gets T-boned and its hull being pierced by giant spikes, killing a few of the soldiers in where the armored troop transport got hit. The ATT tossed on it's side and so the gunner nor driver couldn't see who hit them. The rest of the troops opened the back and rushed out. As the three soldiers rushed out of the vehicle, they were torn to shreds as something fired at them with flechette rounds, killing them instantly as the various knifes came ripped into there skin and circuitry. The Sarge shoved the z-bot out and rushed behind the flipped the vehicle.
The sarge glanced over his shoulder and saw who attacked them and so he saw it. A tank, model after an ancient tank from a global hegemon called the Abrams tank, coated in black as well as stealth technology similar to old B-1 stealth bombers. In the front of the tank, covering its upper and lower glaces are spikes that come up from the bottom to the upper part of the hull of the tank giving a the ability to ram and inflict some serious damage. It has four nozzles , two each side of the tank that can either produce toxic gas or flame, killing its victims by chemical weapon or by flame. The gun is the classic 120mm cannon firing depleted uranium rounds however modified to fire flechette as well as high intensity plasma canisters for much bigger boom and penetration. Of course its most notable feature was on its black turret cheek that shows the classic two 6 sided dice, that showing two ones and with the inscription on top, "Snake eyes".
The Sarge held his breath and looks at his fellow solider who just seemed to crap himself(Of course Z-bots can't actually produce fecal matter). "Its Marlow" the sarge whispered as the tank aimed its gun at the vehicle and fired. The ATT exploded killing the nameless solider and sent the sarge flying a few feet away. The tank rolls through fiery wreckage as the sarge desperately tries to crawl away the best he can. The hatch flew open and so appeared a figure, in the color of steel with yellow iris and a black background. Whoever designed this being, it was clear that Lord Erica was a model since the being popped itself off the tank and walked towards the sarge as he looks on with horror knowing who exactly this being is.
This being is clearly mechanical in nature, the black sliver hair flowed in the wind. Even though wore no clothes, it definitely had a feminine body even though petite. A very prominent feature was the large energy canon on its right arm. She raises her arm and points it at the Sarge as he raises his hands says "Why?!" in a raspy tone of voice, hinting at some kind of damage it said "Because I must and I am not ready yet" and fired, letting out a wide beam of purple energy towards him killing him by disintegrating into ash. She walks back to her tank and hopes back in and says "I, Zetta, will do what these Lords fail to do...but not yet, my time is not yet"
The rolling sand dunes seem endless as the ATT rolled across the desert, the only the vehicle that can be seen currently in the sea of the desolate wasteland. Within the fighting compartment, the squad of Z bots sat in there seats quiet fiddling with there rifles or fingers till one says "So sarge, why are we here, again?" the grizzly looking sergeant looks up after messing with his assault rifle and says "We are here in looking for an ancient AI called Marlow. A relic of Lord Arena's tenure as Lord of technology" as he looks at the solider who asked the question. Another of one then asks "How the hell does an old AI would be all out in the desert? Is there base that we are going towards?" The sarge shook his head and as pulls out a cigar and begins to smoke and says "Nope, apparently Marlow someone integrated himself in that infamous tank called Snake-eyes and has been on move the lately"
"Snake-eyes? You mean that black tank that gave us problems back in 481? Jeez I heard the stories but its been such long time!" the solider who spoke first says with eyes all wide. "The very same legendary tank and that's who we are getting" the sage states, but keeps some of the info back from the rest of his men, knowing the true reason why they after Marlow and the tank nicked-named "Snake-eyes". They soon found find out as the ATT out of no where gets T-boned and its hull being pierced by giant spikes, killing a few of the soldiers in where the armored troop transport got hit. The ATT tossed on it's side and so the gunner nor driver couldn't see who hit them. The rest of the troops opened the back and rushed out. As the three soldiers rushed out of the vehicle, they were torn to shreds as something fired at them with flechette rounds, killing them instantly as the various knifes came ripped into there skin and circuitry. The Sarge shoved the z-bot out and rushed behind the flipped the vehicle.
The sarge glanced over his shoulder and saw who attacked them and so he saw it. A tank, model after an ancient tank from a global hegemon called the Abrams tank, coated in black as well as stealth technology similar to old B-1 stealth bombers. In the front of the tank, covering its upper and lower glaces are spikes that come up from the bottom to the upper part of the hull of the tank giving a the ability to ram and inflict some serious damage. It has four nozzles , two each side of the tank that can either produce toxic gas or flame, killing its victims by chemical weapon or by flame. The gun is the classic 120mm cannon firing depleted uranium rounds however modified to fire flechette as well as high intensity plasma canisters for much bigger boom and penetration. Of course its most notable feature was on its black turret cheek that shows the classic two 6 sided dice, that showing two ones and with the inscription on top, "Snake eyes".
The Sarge held his breath and looks at his fellow solider who just seemed to crap himself(Of course Z-bots can't actually produce fecal matter). "Its Marlow" the sarge whispered as the tank aimed its gun at the vehicle and fired. The ATT exploded killing the nameless solider and sent the sarge flying a few feet away. The tank rolls through fiery wreckage as the sarge desperately tries to crawl away the best he can. The hatch flew open and so appeared a figure, in the color of steel with yellow iris and a black background. Whoever designed this being, it was clear that Lord Erica was a model since the being popped itself off the tank and walked towards the sarge as he looks on with horror knowing who exactly this being is.
This being is clearly mechanical in nature, the black sliver hair flowed in the wind. Even though wore no clothes, it definitely had a feminine body even though petite. A very prominent feature was the large energy canon on its right arm. She raises her arm and points it at the Sarge as he raises his hands says "Why?!" in a raspy tone of voice, hinting at some kind of damage it said "Because I must and I am not ready yet" and fired, letting out a wide beam of purple energy towards him killing him by disintegrating into ash. She walks back to her tank and hopes back in and says "I, Zetta, will do what these Lords fail to do...but not yet, my time is not yet"
Erica's eyes squinted as she looks at the two visitors as she grips the gun and her sword tightly as she examines them. For a long few minutes, she puts the gun down and holsters her gun as well as her sword. She shook her head as well as rub it with her free hand now. "I'm sorry for the hostility, this galaxy specifically has gone to wack and its stressful to handle it all" she says as she looks at them and then tosses them bracelets. "But those on so you can understand a bit better around here as you look for your friend" she explains as she indicated with her wrist in where to put them on. She rubs her hands together and sighs and asks "So what does your friend look like...I seen a lot of people in my travel and I may have seen him" as she reaches behind her back and pulls out her journal and waits for a picture or a description of there friend.
Wyr blinked down at the bracelet in her hand. "What is the bracelet's exact function?" she inquired, studying the accessory closely. She could hear Vaxur shift in place, but not put it on, so she relaxed her posture slightly as he spoke.
"Well," Vaxur started, voice thoughtful. "He's really small. Tiny, compared to us. Like, up to here-" he put the hand that wasn't holding the bracelet up to a little under his shoulder- "and he has gold eyes, with these cute little purple markings underneath them, like-" he traced a sideways V under his own eyes- "Kinda pale... Black hair on the top of his head, and really really light purple in the bottom- not too long, but it's kind of flipped up so it's probably longer than it looks..." He paused, then snapped his fingers. "Oh! And white and purple armor. Sound familiar?"
"Well," Vaxur started, voice thoughtful. "He's really small. Tiny, compared to us. Like, up to here-" he put the hand that wasn't holding the bracelet up to a little under his shoulder- "and he has gold eyes, with these cute little purple markings underneath them, like-" he traced a sideways V under his own eyes- "Kinda pale... Black hair on the top of his head, and really really light purple in the bottom- not too long, but it's kind of flipped up so it's probably longer than it looks..." He paused, then snapped his fingers. "Oh! And white and purple armor. Sound familiar?"
Looks at Wyr and explains "The bracelets are there so you can commicate and receive verbal communication like we are doing now. I understand that you may already have such technology but if I am being around you two, it's for your own protection" as she points to behind them two Dendril assualters, large beasts of metal mostly with the insides of flesh with glowing orange eyes and sharp drooling flesh with talons on both hands and feet as well as a tail.
They look at the newcomers giving out hisses and grunts as they fiddle with there rifles that have chainsaw blades underneath there barrrels. "Lets just say that I am one of them and a very high ranking within the species and so wearing those bracelets will guarantee your safety around me" she adds as she hears Vaxurs description.
Her brow came together as she heard him talk and after he finishes, she raises her hand and says "One moment" as she goes back into her ship and within a few seconds comes back down with a book and says "Are we look for a boy like who looks like this?" As she holds the homoerotic book called "Tales of Galactic boy" with Rin looking over his shoulder as if looking at someone in question with a cute face. It looks like a picture but is actually Laurents amazing ability in drawing that makes it look like a picture. Almost all of the images are drawings till the shower short story that shows the back end and profile of Rin's bare body as he bathed with a little story that can only be seen in books smiliar to it in nature.
"Please don't tell me it's the same person" she says to them as a red tint came upon her cheeks as she hands them the book.
They look at the newcomers giving out hisses and grunts as they fiddle with there rifles that have chainsaw blades underneath there barrrels. "Lets just say that I am one of them and a very high ranking within the species and so wearing those bracelets will guarantee your safety around me" she adds as she hears Vaxurs description.
Her brow came together as she heard him talk and after he finishes, she raises her hand and says "One moment" as she goes back into her ship and within a few seconds comes back down with a book and says "Are we look for a boy like who looks like this?" As she holds the homoerotic book called "Tales of Galactic boy" with Rin looking over his shoulder as if looking at someone in question with a cute face. It looks like a picture but is actually Laurents amazing ability in drawing that makes it look like a picture. Almost all of the images are drawings till the shower short story that shows the back end and profile of Rin's bare body as he bathed with a little story that can only be seen in books smiliar to it in nature.
"Please don't tell me it's the same person" she says to them as a red tint came upon her cheeks as she hands them the book.
"I see," Commander Wyr says, and at the sound of a soft click he too put on the bracelet.
Hopefully they would be able to scan it later for bugs.
However all other thoughts went flying out of the window as the woman held out- "What the- hold the freakin-" he snatched it from her hands, face pale, frantic thoughts flying through his head as he flipped through the book. As he went toward the end, with the shower scene, his face darkened into a dangerous expression.
He slammed the book closed, shoulders stiff. "Rin would have never done this willingly," he said lowly, tone severe. He could hear Wyr hissing, could practically feel the calm before the storm.
This wasn't gonna be pretty.
"Kidnapped..." the Wylaseen female whispered, the word sharp and stabbing in the open air.
"Or betrayed," he murmered, voice void of any and all warmth. No, it was just cold, cold, cold.
"We need to find him." This was no ordinary statement. It was an order.
He gave a sharp nod. Yes. "£&€¥."
Hopefully they would be able to scan it later for bugs.
However all other thoughts went flying out of the window as the woman held out- "What the- hold the freakin-" he snatched it from her hands, face pale, frantic thoughts flying through his head as he flipped through the book. As he went toward the end, with the shower scene, his face darkened into a dangerous expression.
He slammed the book closed, shoulders stiff. "Rin would have never done this willingly," he said lowly, tone severe. He could hear Wyr hissing, could practically feel the calm before the storm.
This wasn't gonna be pretty.
"Kidnapped..." the Wylaseen female whispered, the word sharp and stabbing in the open air.
"Or betrayed," he murmered, voice void of any and all warmth. No, it was just cold, cold, cold.
"We need to find him." This was no ordinary statement. It was an order.
He gave a sharp nod. Yes. "£&€¥."
Erica could tell they weren't happy about there friend being the head character in a controversial book. She goes towards then and takes the book and places it under arm and says "Lets not jump to conclusions" in a smart ass kind of tone and continues "I know the author of this book, he's a crazed cat man merchant. I know him too well that he convinced your friend to join him in whatever"
She tosses her book back into the ship and pulls out her journal and says "Luckily for you two I like doing investigations and so let's start from the top. So he arrives to this galaxy because of an accident and if he came in the same way you guys did then it would be safe to assume that his drive to get him home was damage in some way...if not we wouldn't be having this conversation since I haven't felt any energy like what you guys pulled and I felt two large amounts of energy and one of them was yours and so since I haven't felt the other it's safe to say he's still in this galaxy" as she scribbles notes in her journal.
"Okay next, he would have asked around for repairs for his ship and since in this universe we don't have the means of intreuniversal travel...I guess he would be striking out and also to the fact if he had any money on him would be almost worthless. I think he would have met the Neko merchant named Laurent Montagne, the same man who created the book and I'm guessing convinced him to join him in his journey no doubt in return for a drive or a repairment he can't promise" she then stops writing down her notes and looks at them and says "I think my hypothesis is pretty on point since your friend can easily gut the merchant in any which way, shape or form and was an easy target of Laurent to convince him to join him since this Rin is in a new unfamiliar place and wants or should I say needs guidance"
She sighs and says "Only problem is that Laurent is constantly on the move, jumping from one space station to the next..." she then went into her head to think as her ears remained open to hear what the newcomers have to say.
She tosses her book back into the ship and pulls out her journal and says "Luckily for you two I like doing investigations and so let's start from the top. So he arrives to this galaxy because of an accident and if he came in the same way you guys did then it would be safe to assume that his drive to get him home was damage in some way...if not we wouldn't be having this conversation since I haven't felt any energy like what you guys pulled and I felt two large amounts of energy and one of them was yours and so since I haven't felt the other it's safe to say he's still in this galaxy" as she scribbles notes in her journal.
"Okay next, he would have asked around for repairs for his ship and since in this universe we don't have the means of intreuniversal travel...I guess he would be striking out and also to the fact if he had any money on him would be almost worthless. I think he would have met the Neko merchant named Laurent Montagne, the same man who created the book and I'm guessing convinced him to join him in his journey no doubt in return for a drive or a repairment he can't promise" she then stops writing down her notes and looks at them and says "I think my hypothesis is pretty on point since your friend can easily gut the merchant in any which way, shape or form and was an easy target of Laurent to convince him to join him since this Rin is in a new unfamiliar place and wants or should I say needs guidance"
She sighs and says "Only problem is that Laurent is constantly on the move, jumping from one space station to the next..." she then went into her head to think as her ears remained open to hear what the newcomers have to say.
Wyr let out a click of anxious irritation. "That man is in for a world of hurt." She flexed her fingers, which were very close to twisting into swords. The fact that Vaxur wasn't even looking at her with a worried "aha let's all calm down and make nice" expression was telling. He was extremely displeased. Very much so.
"M'gonna shoot'im," she heard him mutter. He was donning a serious expression, eyes bright with anticipation, fingers flexing, like he was holding a gun.
Yes, he was very displeased.
"M'gonna shoot'im," she heard him mutter. He was donning a serious expression, eyes bright with anticipation, fingers flexing, like he was holding a gun.
Yes, he was very displeased.
The Diplomat
Royanna Kallenger’s eyes opened just barely. Immediately, the sterile white light of the Diplomat’s small medical bay overwhelmed and offended her, and so she shut her eyes again – allowing other senses to take over instead.
The scent of dried blood. Sweat. Antiseptic and the pungent tang of gauze. Fur.
Fur. Soft, but crusted and caked in her hand. A slight dampness by her lip.
The low, rhythmic humming of the stardrive deep within the bowels of the bulky vessel. A gentle wirrr of medical equipment. The occasional, distant chirp of some medical display. She half expected to hear a feminine voice gently request the presence of some doctor to another ward.
The taste of iron. Mouth dry and sour.
She opened her eyes again – slower, this time – allowing the light to seep into her vision more gradually. White – then white, but with sleek features. Then something darker – a square monitor at the end of a stationary mechanical arm which silently and obediently ticked off vital signs beamed up from an unobtrusive sensor. Lots of green text – that was good. It gave her the confidence to sit up.
Slowly, sorely, she shifted to a sitting position, and immediately slumped into the back of the chair to look wearily over the canid who lay outstretched on the operating table. She hardly remembered removing the bullet – but vaguely, she was certain of the memory’s existence. Eyes lingered on him for a long while – taking in the details without really thinking about anything at all. Then she glanced back to the monitor. Still green.
Weakly she raised a wrist to look at the time on her wrist comm. – and was again irritated to find that she had lost it. There were no clocks in the room either – at least, not that she could see in her recently awoken state of semi-consciousness – so she gave up on the notion altogether.
Obviously she had slept for a long while. Long enough for her back to lock up and ache fiercely from having been hunched over the boy’s body. Long enough for her to belatedly realize that she had drooled just a little, and proceed to wipe the corner of her lip with the back of a hand.
A hand that was practically plastered in the rusty red-brown of dried blood. She looked down at herself – the white T-shirt that they had given her on the cataloguer was thoroughly ruined. Torn and…no longer white, actually – but that same sickly crimson and red-brown. The black pants were all but worthless too now. Maybe the boots could be salvaged.
Her coat would need some work. It too was an absolute tragedy – but that could wait.
Eventually, with some effort, Royanna got to her feet and stood unsteadily for a long moment as balance returned.
Another glance to the monitor. Still fine. Back to him – unmoving, other than the slow, but reassuring rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, he was stable – but it didn’t keep her from standing for a long while, debating whether or not she could leave the room with a clean conscience.
Eventually, the sensation of filth and blood coating her head to toe won over, and she made her way, dreamlike, out the door of the medical bay – being sure to leave it open, in case Christofer awoke while she was gone. This was a good a time as any to take a tour of the ship. Maybe she could get her thoughts together a little bit. She was in a daze, though not unaware of her surroundings nor her general situation…but it wouldn’t keep her from looking at everything with little more than a passive fascination. She was aware, but generally unfocused and distracted.
The Diplomat was divided into two decks; though they might have been floors given the ship’s convincing impersonation of a spacious, groundside manor. The upper level was more utilitarian in design than the lower. The floors were a synthetic, but realistic hardwood, light in shade and cool to the touch. The walls of brushed, white metal, with stylish black trim about cleanly sliding doors. Lighting was soft and florescent, emitted from partially hidden ceiling fixtures.
Stepping out from the medical bay, Royanna was faced with a door leading to a large, open bedroom – complete with dark, russet carpeting and ornate furniture that might have been real wood, if she hadn’t known any better. A queen sized bed, made up neat with crimson sheets – a solid dresser and wardrobe, some mirrors – a door which led to a small, personal bathroom and shower, and a closet. The Ambassador’s quarters, if she remembered correctly – since the Diplomat wouldn’t have had a captain, he would have been the most important fellow aboard.
Down the hall in one direction was the engine room, which Royanna only peered into for a brief moment. In the opposite direction there was the main room, and the grand staircase, some boardrooms and meeting rooms and sitting rooms and smaller bedrooms, and some storage rooms, and some rooms of which she either did not know the purpose, or did not bother to explore.
At the base of the grand staircase was the open sitting area – the red sofa which Christofer had made all the redder – there was even an imitation fireplace, and a small baby grand piano, among other furniture. The floor here was carpeted in eggshell white, and the walls paneled with a deep mahogany wood. The carpet was , of course, quite filthy from where she and her companions had tracked in blood and dirt. A shame, really, since everything else was so immaculate.
A large dining hall was situated off to one side, as well as a kitchen and pantry, opposite the hallway leading to the cargo bay and primary storage. Upon seeing the kitchen, it occurred to Royanna that she was positively ravenous – but a cursory examination of the pantry revealed only scant edible rations. Her stomach growled lowly as if on cue, but she ignored it. Even the Old Empire’s advanced preserving methods had their limits – apparently three centuries was too long for most of the food.
That was going to have to be a priority, she thought grimly.
Back to the pilots’ chamber in the front, and she was indifferent to discover that she had no idea where the autopilot had taken them. It occurred to her belatedly that someone must have converted the ship for interstellar travel some time after the Old Empire acquired the necessary resources at Adrusade – probably a long while after the Empire established itself as a power in the nearby systems. She was glad for it.
Really, the whole ship was poorly designed for interstellar travel. A great deal of wasted space that would have cost the crew a fortune in lost profits – but it had never been intended for the purpose that it was now going to be used. It had been intended as a mobile, planetside base that would spend most of the time parked in the city, hosting diplomatic parties and political meetings. It was never supposed to be the ad-hoc home for a fugitive Imperial Agent and her dog friend. And…
As she was about to depart the pilot’s chamber, however, Royanna noticed that a message had apparently been left on the system, in plain sight. She tapped the button to open it, read it with distracted flicks of the eyes, remembered that there had been a robot on the ship with them, and found that in Iril’s absence she was actually somewhat hollow. The woman had begun to grow fond of the robot – and apparently the robot had leaped into space or something. The note was ambiguous, and Royanna was far too out-of-sorts to bother thinking too hard about it. So she didn’t. The message was left open on the screen when she wandered back into the main room, back up the staircase, and toward the medical bay, all the while wondering distantly what she had been intending to do when she originally poked her head out of the medical bay.
She smelled blood again at the top of the stairs. Right. She was filthy.
So it was back to the Ambassador’s quarters, where she lazily began to rummage through the dresser and wardrobe in the faint hope that there might be something she could wear…After all, these clothes were done for. Christofer would need new duds too – but it became rapidly apparent that it might not be so big a problem after all.
In the sterility of the base and their almost vacuum-packed surroundings, the clothing was all good as new – and Royanna was pleased to find exactly the kind of clothing she was looking for…Convenient that she preferred the more ‘classical’ styles that had been at peak popularity decades before the present.
It was a long shower. Old clothing tossed in a heap outside the bathroom door, and she must have stood leaning on the tiled wall for twenty minutes at least, just savoring the warm water as it came down from above. It had run rusty at first, as the crusted blood was cleared away. Conservation of water had been one of the Empire’s first great achievements – given their limited resources, they had taken it very seriously. As a result, there was a 98% recovery rate for water used on the ship – so a long shower wouldn’t hurt their reserves.
It took her a while to start becoming irritated with her hair – it had gotten just long enough that it fell directly in her eyes when wet. Her flicking it out of the way became progressively more frustrated until, at last, she exited the shower, toweled off, tended to her wounds with supplies snatched beforehand from the medical bay, and dressed. Brought to sharper awareness by the revitalizing water, Royanna was surprised at what she saw in the reflection of the mirror as she exited the little private bathroom. She was almost a different person now. There were still dark, heavy bags shadowing beneath her eyes, and she still looked haggard and weary. The dual cuts on her face were neatly dressed with white adhesive bandages – but otherwise, the woman’s skin looked pale and clean for the first time in what seemed like months. It starkly contrasted the blackness of her hair, the green of her eyes. For the moment, at least, it would be hard to tag her as suffering from the latent effects of a terribly damaging drug. Though she still looked very tired, and very defeated…at least she didn’t look half dead. The aftereffects of B-2 would hit her sooner or later…but for now there was a merciful hiatus from the trembling hands and bloodshot eyes.
She had found a white button-down collared shirt and black slacks, and they hung loosely, but befitting from her. The slacks were, perhaps, a tad too long, and they gathered at the ankles. The top button on the shirt was undone, making the collar loose and comfortable. The shape of one narrow collarbone could be seen beneath it, though she simply was not ‘endowed’ enough for there to be any cleavage without unbuttoning at least two or three more down.
Leaving boots and socks with the bloodied clothing in the heap she had tossed them earlier, Royanna padded barefoot across the hall and back into the infirmary. The hair, damp and heavy atop her head, was getting more irritating by the minute – so she took to rummaging grumpily through drawers in a probably vain search for scissors. She had pawed through two of them before instinctively glancing over at Christofer on the operating table – where she saw him open her eyes.
It took a moment to register, as she looked almost uncomprehendingly at him, one hand still in the drawer.
”You’re awake.” she said lowly, and with interest.
Then, realizing what she’d said, the woman’s eyes widened marginally. With muted haste, she left the drawer open and moved toward him – stumbling a little over her own feet in the process.
”Y-you’re awake.” She said again, still softly, but this time with a stronger hint of intensity. Her throat was dry and it could be heard in her voice. There was almost, almost a twinge of eagerness in both her tone and expression as she came to the side of the operating table, hands leaning on the edge to grip it loosely.
Then, possibly for a lack of anything else to say, she added stupidly;
”How are you feeling?”
The HMS Skadi
”Sure thing, kid.” Tsuan said with a reassuring grin.
Habitually, it was Ty who took the lead, but only by a small margin. The group was only loosely structured, and Ty had not been the actual ‘team leader’ since their Hi’tzen days – but he had learned a lot from Sané in their time together, and his air of being a natural leader had strengthened all the more for it.
There wasn’t much in the way of chatter along the way – it was beyond obvious that Rin was electrically nervous over something, but it seemed an impossible feat to lighten the mood after what they had just seen. Even Tsuan had nothing to say – though he still made a point to stick close to Rin as they walked.
Presently, they had arrived at the hangar, and entered into Rin’s ship. Dallen gave a low whistle as they approached. ”Damn fine machine there, kid. I’m no expert but I know a good boat when I see one.”
But what now was there to say? As the four human soldiers watched and listened with growing awe to a story that should have been absolutely preposterous, but was apparently true.
It was when he said ’universe’ that four pairs of eyes widened and intensified. Surely he was mistaken.
Another Galaxy? That was almost beyond belief, certainly beyond the realm of any science that the sentient races of the Milky Way had access to now.
But another universe?
The four stood in baffled silence for what must have seemed like a few calendar years. Then, steeling himself, Ty took a deep breath, looked to the floor, then back to Rin. ”Whatever it takes.” He said simply, and with a finality and certainty that only the raw talent of a natural leader could produce.
That said, there was still no shortage of desire to change the subject away from the potentiality of having to permanently cut their new friend off from his home. It was Sands who piped up first, eager to get it out. ”But you know how totally insane that sounds, right?” He said, spreading his big hands in a gesture of helplessness. ”I mean…another universe?” Dallen gave off another low whistle, then shook her head almost disapprovingly. ”Great Space, Kid, you just keep makin’ yourself a more valuable target by the second, don’t ya’?”
”She’s got a point, Rin.” Ty added in, gravely, but was cut off by Tsuan piping up with a half-joking tone marred by underlying sobriety. “You’d probably be better off locked up in a high-security vault with this thing than out in the field.” He said, nodding to indicate the exposed core, as Sands spoke up. ”We’re going to need to figure out some top-notch security procedures for this thing. Which is going to be a pain in the ass, since this Ova @#$% doesn’t seem to care much for things like barriers and walls.”
“We’ll talk to the Boss about it.” Ty continued, ”But my guess is that no amount of steel is going to keep Ova away from this thing…” His words drifted off unexpectedly, as a whole host of implications and new questions fell over him. So much depended on what Ova was capable of, and what she actually wanted with the crystal. It was Dallen who broke the silence some seconds later.
”She can’t be so stupid that she thinks you’ll just waltz on over to her doorstep and hand deliver the thing just because she gave you a spook, can she?” She said incredulously. ”I mean, how it she gonna’ hurt your people if she needs the crystal to get to them in the first place?”
It was followed by another silence, since nobody had the answers. Returning to the prior subject, Ty spoke suddenly. ”The best chance we’ll have at keeping the thing out of her hands is making sure she doesn’t know where it is. Not easy, considering that she seems to have eyes everywhere…But I do have an idea of where we might be able to hide it. Certainly nowhere aboard the Skadi – she is a formidable ship, but also a gigantic target. In the meantime, we’ll need to read over those dossiers that the Boss gave us. Rin, I want you at that briefing regardless of what the Boss thinks. You’re going to need to be the most informed of all of us if we’re getting involved in things like this.”
The Perrygold
Apparently, the story had stuck. In an instant, the theories and speculations were dashed from Arnaldo’s mind – and, subsequently, from Ketin’s. He breathed a shallow, restrained sigh of relief.
Then, in what was likely to become a rollercoaster of panic and respite, he was tense again – not so much in body as in mind – as he scaned neurotically for any ’cold intent’ the little man might have been harboring.
’Hot intents’ were things on someone’s mind that they intended to act upon immediately. Passionate emotions, computational thoughts, or even movements. These were the easiest to integrate with, and Ketin was as familiar with them as with himself.
’Cold intents’ were much more insidious. They were long-term plans – life goals, concepts that were fundamental in a person, not subject to being actively thought about, but ever-present. Vastly more difficult to unlock without delving into the realm of memory, which Ketin avoided at all costs. But it was the cold intent which proved the most dangerous, for some people were capable of such control over their thoughts as to turn hot intents into cold intents – and if that was what Arnaldo was trying to do now…he might end up getting away with it. Even after all this time, detecting cold intents was greatly reliant on speculation on Ketin’s part. It was rarely a certainty, and it often led to paranoia.
And, unsurprisingly, he could not determine whether the cold intent to investigate him was still present or if the man had really ceased to pay it any mind. That was going to keep the kid on his toes…
But when Arnaldo proceeded with a monologue on how interesting his present company was, and a query as to potentially following them around for a while – that almost put Ketin at ease. After all, it was very common for adventurous types to want to stick with him, knowing full well he would find interesting places to go and be involved in interesting happenings, even dangerous things! Such intents were innocent and he delighted in that sort of company. But it also could have meant that Arnaldo wanted to follow him around, to investigate. to snoop and he couldn’t have that.
Think on it over food? Yes, that seemed like a good idea. He needed time for the logical and emotional sides of his mind to duke it out.
He was just about to reply with an answer when Nirix said something that made him look as though he had just been rudely, and harshly smacked on the back of the head with a half-frozen tuna.
”C-caretaker?!” He half wheezed, barely stifling it from a yelp into a raspy utterance. Resisting the urge to whirl on her however, Ketin forced a broad, toothy smile onto his face and proceeded to blab with forcibly too-casual insistence in a clearly strained voice ”Funny how different folks have different words for ’real good friends’, huh? I mean, caretaker? Hoo! That would imply that I needed taking care of which I certainly don’t but I think that’s pretty obvious yeah? Haha~!”
He realized only then that he had been intensely staring at an arbitrarily chosen point on the far wall, rather than looking Nirix in the eye. Similarly, he realized that his own fantastically awkward bout of half-nonsense had been hopelessly intertwined with a bout of startlingly aggressive accusations on the part of Arnaldo. Both of them, talking at the same time and with such different points to convey.
Before he knew what was happening, the situation escalated to what might easily further evolve into a serious standoff – and, in a moment of overwhelming petty irritation, Kete found that he was more concerned with Nirix’s ’caretaker’ comment than with the potential seriousness at hand. All the while, of course, he held the @#$%-eating smile. He barely noticed as the taller, more muscular man from next door came over, seemed to take a moment to look the half-breed over and grin a knowing grin of his own. He returned the handshake, but absentmindedly.
And then he heard it - ’shemlen’. Lowest of the low – a word of hatred and loathing and rage – he’d heard it only once or twice from her, but it snapped him instantaneously back to reality, yanking him from his own internal pouting and plunging him back into the seriousness of the situation.
His smile weakened significantly as it all came back together. Nirix was on the verge of killing people. What right did he have to go grumping about her phrasing when this was going down?
Every word the little man said seemed to make things worse. Even the tall guy – Wick – wasn’t helping as much as he’d hoped he would.
But most disturbing of all, was that anger.
Even as it changed with the rapidity of hot iron in ice water from hot rage to cold fury – Kete found that it was frightening. He found that, in this moment where he desperately needed to say something – anything to ease the tension and keep someone from dying – he was frozen with a bone-chilling fear of what his friend was capable of. He had frozen up and become quite useless. Of course.
Luckily, things sorted themselves out well enough. Nirix, in her chilling anger, gave one final curse at Wick and made her way back to the cabin. Yet that chill would not leave him, even while the immediate danger had passed. It was barely visible on his face, but it stuck there in his mind. Why?
Wick was gone now. Arnaldo was talking – what, apologizing? Explaining himself?
His smile had faded to something that was more tired and content than overwhelming. His movements were rather stiff as he went and pulled out a chair, sitting across from Arnaldo just in time for the burgers to arrive.
Still having said nothing, he took a generous chomp out of it, and talked through his second mouthful. It was much easier to hide the strain in his voice this way.
”Don’t worry about it Arnie.” he said casually around the food – too casually. ”Ny’s got a lil’ bit of a temper an’ she don’t always get jokes y’know?” He wiped his lips with a thumb, and went about procuring a drink for himself. Rohem’d Whiskey with ground-apple liqueur, no ice.
It was still there. Why was it still there?
It was there because it was that precise variety of hate-fueled passion which he himself had felt amidst the wailing of dismembered children and screeching cries of burning bodies while life still clung to charring flesh…
The kind of hate that only love could breed.
The kind of passion that could only stem from the deep and pure certainty that you would do anything. anything in the blink of an eye for them.
You would kill for them. They meant so much to you that the demon within stirred and clawed to the surface, itching and writhing for any chance to slaughter those who would look at them wrong.
The kind of devotion that would bring down cities for them. The kind of love that would leave a fatal mistake clinging to the heart and mind for centuries, to blacken the soul and taint every word and-
Blinking, Ketin noticed that, across the dining area, he could see the girl from next door approaching. He half stood from his seat and gave a wide, enthusiastic wave, before sitting proper again.
He was not going to give in to those thoughts now. Not now. He would hide them away and bury them. He would focus on everything else, everyone else, all the minds that were not his own, in which he dwelled and lived with the true occupants. He would focus on anything but that. Anything but that…
”Hey, you’re Alice, right? Wick’s sister?” There was not the slightest hint on his face, nor in his manner that hinted at the internal terror which he had just swallowed. ”May I say that you’re even prettier than I expected you’d be~!” He went on, giving her a surprisingly suave look along with the slight cock of the head.
Charming enough, all things considered…
Royanna Kallenger’s eyes opened just barely. Immediately, the sterile white light of the Diplomat’s small medical bay overwhelmed and offended her, and so she shut her eyes again – allowing other senses to take over instead.
The scent of dried blood. Sweat. Antiseptic and the pungent tang of gauze. Fur.
Fur. Soft, but crusted and caked in her hand. A slight dampness by her lip.
The low, rhythmic humming of the stardrive deep within the bowels of the bulky vessel. A gentle wirrr of medical equipment. The occasional, distant chirp of some medical display. She half expected to hear a feminine voice gently request the presence of some doctor to another ward.
The taste of iron. Mouth dry and sour.
She opened her eyes again – slower, this time – allowing the light to seep into her vision more gradually. White – then white, but with sleek features. Then something darker – a square monitor at the end of a stationary mechanical arm which silently and obediently ticked off vital signs beamed up from an unobtrusive sensor. Lots of green text – that was good. It gave her the confidence to sit up.
Slowly, sorely, she shifted to a sitting position, and immediately slumped into the back of the chair to look wearily over the canid who lay outstretched on the operating table. She hardly remembered removing the bullet – but vaguely, she was certain of the memory’s existence. Eyes lingered on him for a long while – taking in the details without really thinking about anything at all. Then she glanced back to the monitor. Still green.
Weakly she raised a wrist to look at the time on her wrist comm. – and was again irritated to find that she had lost it. There were no clocks in the room either – at least, not that she could see in her recently awoken state of semi-consciousness – so she gave up on the notion altogether.
Obviously she had slept for a long while. Long enough for her back to lock up and ache fiercely from having been hunched over the boy’s body. Long enough for her to belatedly realize that she had drooled just a little, and proceed to wipe the corner of her lip with the back of a hand.
A hand that was practically plastered in the rusty red-brown of dried blood. She looked down at herself – the white T-shirt that they had given her on the cataloguer was thoroughly ruined. Torn and…no longer white, actually – but that same sickly crimson and red-brown. The black pants were all but worthless too now. Maybe the boots could be salvaged.
Her coat would need some work. It too was an absolute tragedy – but that could wait.
Eventually, with some effort, Royanna got to her feet and stood unsteadily for a long moment as balance returned.
Another glance to the monitor. Still fine. Back to him – unmoving, other than the slow, but reassuring rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, he was stable – but it didn’t keep her from standing for a long while, debating whether or not she could leave the room with a clean conscience.
Eventually, the sensation of filth and blood coating her head to toe won over, and she made her way, dreamlike, out the door of the medical bay – being sure to leave it open, in case Christofer awoke while she was gone. This was a good a time as any to take a tour of the ship. Maybe she could get her thoughts together a little bit. She was in a daze, though not unaware of her surroundings nor her general situation…but it wouldn’t keep her from looking at everything with little more than a passive fascination. She was aware, but generally unfocused and distracted.
The Diplomat was divided into two decks; though they might have been floors given the ship’s convincing impersonation of a spacious, groundside manor. The upper level was more utilitarian in design than the lower. The floors were a synthetic, but realistic hardwood, light in shade and cool to the touch. The walls of brushed, white metal, with stylish black trim about cleanly sliding doors. Lighting was soft and florescent, emitted from partially hidden ceiling fixtures.
Stepping out from the medical bay, Royanna was faced with a door leading to a large, open bedroom – complete with dark, russet carpeting and ornate furniture that might have been real wood, if she hadn’t known any better. A queen sized bed, made up neat with crimson sheets – a solid dresser and wardrobe, some mirrors – a door which led to a small, personal bathroom and shower, and a closet. The Ambassador’s quarters, if she remembered correctly – since the Diplomat wouldn’t have had a captain, he would have been the most important fellow aboard.
Down the hall in one direction was the engine room, which Royanna only peered into for a brief moment. In the opposite direction there was the main room, and the grand staircase, some boardrooms and meeting rooms and sitting rooms and smaller bedrooms, and some storage rooms, and some rooms of which she either did not know the purpose, or did not bother to explore.
At the base of the grand staircase was the open sitting area – the red sofa which Christofer had made all the redder – there was even an imitation fireplace, and a small baby grand piano, among other furniture. The floor here was carpeted in eggshell white, and the walls paneled with a deep mahogany wood. The carpet was , of course, quite filthy from where she and her companions had tracked in blood and dirt. A shame, really, since everything else was so immaculate.
A large dining hall was situated off to one side, as well as a kitchen and pantry, opposite the hallway leading to the cargo bay and primary storage. Upon seeing the kitchen, it occurred to Royanna that she was positively ravenous – but a cursory examination of the pantry revealed only scant edible rations. Her stomach growled lowly as if on cue, but she ignored it. Even the Old Empire’s advanced preserving methods had their limits – apparently three centuries was too long for most of the food.
That was going to have to be a priority, she thought grimly.
Back to the pilots’ chamber in the front, and she was indifferent to discover that she had no idea where the autopilot had taken them. It occurred to her belatedly that someone must have converted the ship for interstellar travel some time after the Old Empire acquired the necessary resources at Adrusade – probably a long while after the Empire established itself as a power in the nearby systems. She was glad for it.
Really, the whole ship was poorly designed for interstellar travel. A great deal of wasted space that would have cost the crew a fortune in lost profits – but it had never been intended for the purpose that it was now going to be used. It had been intended as a mobile, planetside base that would spend most of the time parked in the city, hosting diplomatic parties and political meetings. It was never supposed to be the ad-hoc home for a fugitive Imperial Agent and her dog friend. And…
As she was about to depart the pilot’s chamber, however, Royanna noticed that a message had apparently been left on the system, in plain sight. She tapped the button to open it, read it with distracted flicks of the eyes, remembered that there had been a robot on the ship with them, and found that in Iril’s absence she was actually somewhat hollow. The woman had begun to grow fond of the robot – and apparently the robot had leaped into space or something. The note was ambiguous, and Royanna was far too out-of-sorts to bother thinking too hard about it. So she didn’t. The message was left open on the screen when she wandered back into the main room, back up the staircase, and toward the medical bay, all the while wondering distantly what she had been intending to do when she originally poked her head out of the medical bay.
She smelled blood again at the top of the stairs. Right. She was filthy.
So it was back to the Ambassador’s quarters, where she lazily began to rummage through the dresser and wardrobe in the faint hope that there might be something she could wear…After all, these clothes were done for. Christofer would need new duds too – but it became rapidly apparent that it might not be so big a problem after all.
In the sterility of the base and their almost vacuum-packed surroundings, the clothing was all good as new – and Royanna was pleased to find exactly the kind of clothing she was looking for…Convenient that she preferred the more ‘classical’ styles that had been at peak popularity decades before the present.
It was a long shower. Old clothing tossed in a heap outside the bathroom door, and she must have stood leaning on the tiled wall for twenty minutes at least, just savoring the warm water as it came down from above. It had run rusty at first, as the crusted blood was cleared away. Conservation of water had been one of the Empire’s first great achievements – given their limited resources, they had taken it very seriously. As a result, there was a 98% recovery rate for water used on the ship – so a long shower wouldn’t hurt their reserves.
It took her a while to start becoming irritated with her hair – it had gotten just long enough that it fell directly in her eyes when wet. Her flicking it out of the way became progressively more frustrated until, at last, she exited the shower, toweled off, tended to her wounds with supplies snatched beforehand from the medical bay, and dressed. Brought to sharper awareness by the revitalizing water, Royanna was surprised at what she saw in the reflection of the mirror as she exited the little private bathroom. She was almost a different person now. There were still dark, heavy bags shadowing beneath her eyes, and she still looked haggard and weary. The dual cuts on her face were neatly dressed with white adhesive bandages – but otherwise, the woman’s skin looked pale and clean for the first time in what seemed like months. It starkly contrasted the blackness of her hair, the green of her eyes. For the moment, at least, it would be hard to tag her as suffering from the latent effects of a terribly damaging drug. Though she still looked very tired, and very defeated…at least she didn’t look half dead. The aftereffects of B-2 would hit her sooner or later…but for now there was a merciful hiatus from the trembling hands and bloodshot eyes.
She had found a white button-down collared shirt and black slacks, and they hung loosely, but befitting from her. The slacks were, perhaps, a tad too long, and they gathered at the ankles. The top button on the shirt was undone, making the collar loose and comfortable. The shape of one narrow collarbone could be seen beneath it, though she simply was not ‘endowed’ enough for there to be any cleavage without unbuttoning at least two or three more down.
Leaving boots and socks with the bloodied clothing in the heap she had tossed them earlier, Royanna padded barefoot across the hall and back into the infirmary. The hair, damp and heavy atop her head, was getting more irritating by the minute – so she took to rummaging grumpily through drawers in a probably vain search for scissors. She had pawed through two of them before instinctively glancing over at Christofer on the operating table – where she saw him open her eyes.
It took a moment to register, as she looked almost uncomprehendingly at him, one hand still in the drawer.
”You’re awake.” she said lowly, and with interest.
Then, realizing what she’d said, the woman’s eyes widened marginally. With muted haste, she left the drawer open and moved toward him – stumbling a little over her own feet in the process.
”Y-you’re awake.” She said again, still softly, but this time with a stronger hint of intensity. Her throat was dry and it could be heard in her voice. There was almost, almost a twinge of eagerness in both her tone and expression as she came to the side of the operating table, hands leaning on the edge to grip it loosely.
Then, possibly for a lack of anything else to say, she added stupidly;
”How are you feeling?”
The HMS Skadi
”Sure thing, kid.” Tsuan said with a reassuring grin.
Habitually, it was Ty who took the lead, but only by a small margin. The group was only loosely structured, and Ty had not been the actual ‘team leader’ since their Hi’tzen days – but he had learned a lot from Sané in their time together, and his air of being a natural leader had strengthened all the more for it.
There wasn’t much in the way of chatter along the way – it was beyond obvious that Rin was electrically nervous over something, but it seemed an impossible feat to lighten the mood after what they had just seen. Even Tsuan had nothing to say – though he still made a point to stick close to Rin as they walked.
Presently, they had arrived at the hangar, and entered into Rin’s ship. Dallen gave a low whistle as they approached. ”Damn fine machine there, kid. I’m no expert but I know a good boat when I see one.”
But what now was there to say? As the four human soldiers watched and listened with growing awe to a story that should have been absolutely preposterous, but was apparently true.
It was when he said ’universe’ that four pairs of eyes widened and intensified. Surely he was mistaken.
Another Galaxy? That was almost beyond belief, certainly beyond the realm of any science that the sentient races of the Milky Way had access to now.
But another universe?
The four stood in baffled silence for what must have seemed like a few calendar years. Then, steeling himself, Ty took a deep breath, looked to the floor, then back to Rin. ”Whatever it takes.” He said simply, and with a finality and certainty that only the raw talent of a natural leader could produce.
That said, there was still no shortage of desire to change the subject away from the potentiality of having to permanently cut their new friend off from his home. It was Sands who piped up first, eager to get it out. ”But you know how totally insane that sounds, right?” He said, spreading his big hands in a gesture of helplessness. ”I mean…another universe?” Dallen gave off another low whistle, then shook her head almost disapprovingly. ”Great Space, Kid, you just keep makin’ yourself a more valuable target by the second, don’t ya’?”
”She’s got a point, Rin.” Ty added in, gravely, but was cut off by Tsuan piping up with a half-joking tone marred by underlying sobriety. “You’d probably be better off locked up in a high-security vault with this thing than out in the field.” He said, nodding to indicate the exposed core, as Sands spoke up. ”We’re going to need to figure out some top-notch security procedures for this thing. Which is going to be a pain in the ass, since this Ova @#$% doesn’t seem to care much for things like barriers and walls.”
“We’ll talk to the Boss about it.” Ty continued, ”But my guess is that no amount of steel is going to keep Ova away from this thing…” His words drifted off unexpectedly, as a whole host of implications and new questions fell over him. So much depended on what Ova was capable of, and what she actually wanted with the crystal. It was Dallen who broke the silence some seconds later.
”She can’t be so stupid that she thinks you’ll just waltz on over to her doorstep and hand deliver the thing just because she gave you a spook, can she?” She said incredulously. ”I mean, how it she gonna’ hurt your people if she needs the crystal to get to them in the first place?”
It was followed by another silence, since nobody had the answers. Returning to the prior subject, Ty spoke suddenly. ”The best chance we’ll have at keeping the thing out of her hands is making sure she doesn’t know where it is. Not easy, considering that she seems to have eyes everywhere…But I do have an idea of where we might be able to hide it. Certainly nowhere aboard the Skadi – she is a formidable ship, but also a gigantic target. In the meantime, we’ll need to read over those dossiers that the Boss gave us. Rin, I want you at that briefing regardless of what the Boss thinks. You’re going to need to be the most informed of all of us if we’re getting involved in things like this.”
The Perrygold
Apparently, the story had stuck. In an instant, the theories and speculations were dashed from Arnaldo’s mind – and, subsequently, from Ketin’s. He breathed a shallow, restrained sigh of relief.
Then, in what was likely to become a rollercoaster of panic and respite, he was tense again – not so much in body as in mind – as he scaned neurotically for any ’cold intent’ the little man might have been harboring.
’Hot intents’ were things on someone’s mind that they intended to act upon immediately. Passionate emotions, computational thoughts, or even movements. These were the easiest to integrate with, and Ketin was as familiar with them as with himself.
’Cold intents’ were much more insidious. They were long-term plans – life goals, concepts that were fundamental in a person, not subject to being actively thought about, but ever-present. Vastly more difficult to unlock without delving into the realm of memory, which Ketin avoided at all costs. But it was the cold intent which proved the most dangerous, for some people were capable of such control over their thoughts as to turn hot intents into cold intents – and if that was what Arnaldo was trying to do now…he might end up getting away with it. Even after all this time, detecting cold intents was greatly reliant on speculation on Ketin’s part. It was rarely a certainty, and it often led to paranoia.
And, unsurprisingly, he could not determine whether the cold intent to investigate him was still present or if the man had really ceased to pay it any mind. That was going to keep the kid on his toes…
But when Arnaldo proceeded with a monologue on how interesting his present company was, and a query as to potentially following them around for a while – that almost put Ketin at ease. After all, it was very common for adventurous types to want to stick with him, knowing full well he would find interesting places to go and be involved in interesting happenings, even dangerous things! Such intents were innocent and he delighted in that sort of company. But it also could have meant that Arnaldo wanted to follow him around, to investigate. to snoop and he couldn’t have that.
Think on it over food? Yes, that seemed like a good idea. He needed time for the logical and emotional sides of his mind to duke it out.
He was just about to reply with an answer when Nirix said something that made him look as though he had just been rudely, and harshly smacked on the back of the head with a half-frozen tuna.
”C-caretaker?!” He half wheezed, barely stifling it from a yelp into a raspy utterance. Resisting the urge to whirl on her however, Ketin forced a broad, toothy smile onto his face and proceeded to blab with forcibly too-casual insistence in a clearly strained voice ”Funny how different folks have different words for ’real good friends’, huh? I mean, caretaker? Hoo! That would imply that I needed taking care of which I certainly don’t but I think that’s pretty obvious yeah? Haha~!”
He realized only then that he had been intensely staring at an arbitrarily chosen point on the far wall, rather than looking Nirix in the eye. Similarly, he realized that his own fantastically awkward bout of half-nonsense had been hopelessly intertwined with a bout of startlingly aggressive accusations on the part of Arnaldo. Both of them, talking at the same time and with such different points to convey.
Before he knew what was happening, the situation escalated to what might easily further evolve into a serious standoff – and, in a moment of overwhelming petty irritation, Kete found that he was more concerned with Nirix’s ’caretaker’ comment than with the potential seriousness at hand. All the while, of course, he held the @#$%-eating smile. He barely noticed as the taller, more muscular man from next door came over, seemed to take a moment to look the half-breed over and grin a knowing grin of his own. He returned the handshake, but absentmindedly.
And then he heard it - ’shemlen’. Lowest of the low – a word of hatred and loathing and rage – he’d heard it only once or twice from her, but it snapped him instantaneously back to reality, yanking him from his own internal pouting and plunging him back into the seriousness of the situation.
His smile weakened significantly as it all came back together. Nirix was on the verge of killing people. What right did he have to go grumping about her phrasing when this was going down?
Every word the little man said seemed to make things worse. Even the tall guy – Wick – wasn’t helping as much as he’d hoped he would.
But most disturbing of all, was that anger.
Even as it changed with the rapidity of hot iron in ice water from hot rage to cold fury – Kete found that it was frightening. He found that, in this moment where he desperately needed to say something – anything to ease the tension and keep someone from dying – he was frozen with a bone-chilling fear of what his friend was capable of. He had frozen up and become quite useless. Of course.
Luckily, things sorted themselves out well enough. Nirix, in her chilling anger, gave one final curse at Wick and made her way back to the cabin. Yet that chill would not leave him, even while the immediate danger had passed. It was barely visible on his face, but it stuck there in his mind. Why?
Wick was gone now. Arnaldo was talking – what, apologizing? Explaining himself?
His smile had faded to something that was more tired and content than overwhelming. His movements were rather stiff as he went and pulled out a chair, sitting across from Arnaldo just in time for the burgers to arrive.
Still having said nothing, he took a generous chomp out of it, and talked through his second mouthful. It was much easier to hide the strain in his voice this way.
”Don’t worry about it Arnie.” he said casually around the food – too casually. ”Ny’s got a lil’ bit of a temper an’ she don’t always get jokes y’know?” He wiped his lips with a thumb, and went about procuring a drink for himself. Rohem’d Whiskey with ground-apple liqueur, no ice.
It was still there. Why was it still there?
It was there because it was that precise variety of hate-fueled passion which he himself had felt amidst the wailing of dismembered children and screeching cries of burning bodies while life still clung to charring flesh…
The kind of hate that only love could breed.
The kind of passion that could only stem from the deep and pure certainty that you would do anything. anything in the blink of an eye for them.
You would kill for them. They meant so much to you that the demon within stirred and clawed to the surface, itching and writhing for any chance to slaughter those who would look at them wrong.
The kind of devotion that would bring down cities for them. The kind of love that would leave a fatal mistake clinging to the heart and mind for centuries, to blacken the soul and taint every word and-
Blinking, Ketin noticed that, across the dining area, he could see the girl from next door approaching. He half stood from his seat and gave a wide, enthusiastic wave, before sitting proper again.
He was not going to give in to those thoughts now. Not now. He would hide them away and bury them. He would focus on everything else, everyone else, all the minds that were not his own, in which he dwelled and lived with the true occupants. He would focus on anything but that. Anything but that…
”Hey, you’re Alice, right? Wick’s sister?” There was not the slightest hint on his face, nor in his manner that hinted at the internal terror which he had just swallowed. ”May I say that you’re even prettier than I expected you’d be~!” He went on, giving her a surprisingly suave look along with the slight cock of the head.
Charming enough, all things considered…
Rin let out a small sigh of- relief? Quiet mourning? Perhaps both- and nodded back. "Thank you," he whispered, low and grave.
He could feel their reluctance with his request- and was somewhat relieved when Sands broke the sad silence.
He shrugged at Sands's remark, smiling wryly. "Well, it's either an entirely different universe, or an alternate reality," he said softly. "In the latter option, I would have another me around... and I would probably be experiencing Entropic Cascade Failure. That's when there are two living versions of you in the same universe, and the non-native version begins experiencing cellular breakdown due to rejection from the host-universe. Or my double is dead here, so maybe that's why I haven't been affected. Depends on what galaxy this is, I guess? The coordinates actually seem familiar..." He shrugged again, smile dropping a little. "Either way, I'm still stuck."
He quieted as the rest of the team threw in their thoughts, humming softly at Dallen's sharp, but not unkind, statements. He pursed his lips, mouth tilted down, and looked up in mild irritation at Tsuan's suggestion of being locked up with the generator, though. He was a soldier, damnit. He was going to fight.
His attention was turned back to the conversation at the mention of Ova. As the last voice died away, the weight of her possible capabilities seemed to grow even heavier, the atmosphere so thick he swore he could cut it with a knife.
He almost flinched as Ty spoke again, and blinked at his assertion that, whether the Queen wanted to or not, Rin himself had to be there. "I can see why she would be hesitant," he said, carefully, "especially if I am to be compromised. Maybe... when the time comes that you will be discussing how to hide the generator... send me out? It would be safer if in the case that I am ever captured, as I am a target- that I am not capable of spilling any well-kept secrets."
He could feel their reluctance with his request- and was somewhat relieved when Sands broke the sad silence.
He shrugged at Sands's remark, smiling wryly. "Well, it's either an entirely different universe, or an alternate reality," he said softly. "In the latter option, I would have another me around... and I would probably be experiencing Entropic Cascade Failure. That's when there are two living versions of you in the same universe, and the non-native version begins experiencing cellular breakdown due to rejection from the host-universe. Or my double is dead here, so maybe that's why I haven't been affected. Depends on what galaxy this is, I guess? The coordinates actually seem familiar..." He shrugged again, smile dropping a little. "Either way, I'm still stuck."
He quieted as the rest of the team threw in their thoughts, humming softly at Dallen's sharp, but not unkind, statements. He pursed his lips, mouth tilted down, and looked up in mild irritation at Tsuan's suggestion of being locked up with the generator, though. He was a soldier, damnit. He was going to fight.
His attention was turned back to the conversation at the mention of Ova. As the last voice died away, the weight of her possible capabilities seemed to grow even heavier, the atmosphere so thick he swore he could cut it with a knife.
He almost flinched as Ty spoke again, and blinked at his assertion that, whether the Queen wanted to or not, Rin himself had to be there. "I can see why she would be hesitant," he said, carefully, "especially if I am to be compromised. Maybe... when the time comes that you will be discussing how to hide the generator... send me out? It would be safer if in the case that I am ever captured, as I am a target- that I am not capable of spilling any well-kept secrets."
Almost as if out of the shadows but really from his cloaking device the Veracon Commander unit 76 came out and says "I'm sorry to say but I doubt Lord Ova is after your crystal. She already has the capabilities of traversing all universes at will from her realm either the Dimensional realm of the Undead or Darkness. At least a little thing to be glade for is that she can't traverse into your universe directly from this universe and would have to go back to her realm and then go for yours and so it would take her some time" as he approaches them with his hands behind his back. It was clear he followed them and listened into everything that the soldiers say as well as Rin.
"Anyway before you ask I came here to get all to the war room so we can have our little discussion on Lord Ova...more of a Q & A session since the dossiers we sent only gave partial info, really the barebones of Lord Ova. Most of our info in the database has been corrupted, mostly because of age of the ship so the data began to disintegrate and so we are pulling an early meeting" he explains to them. "As I mention before, we suspect its more towards you personally than what you have...she is known to operate without logical sense, but from the intensity of her psychological attack, I won't count that as being the last, but more to come no doubt" he mentions as he turns around begins to walk away. "So if you all don't mind lets not keep the Frost Queen waiting" he says hinting at the fact he wants them to follow.
Assuming that they did, they would go through multiple long hallways towards a dark room with light monitors being the only sources of light and Cathorine hunched over a holotable assuming she was looking at data. She would look up and ask "I'm glade to see you all here, so lets start this off with questions since I'm assuming you may have seen the incomplete yet?" as she looks at her group and at Rin as she waits for a reply.
"Anyway before you ask I came here to get all to the war room so we can have our little discussion on Lord Ova...more of a Q & A session since the dossiers we sent only gave partial info, really the barebones of Lord Ova. Most of our info in the database has been corrupted, mostly because of age of the ship so the data began to disintegrate and so we are pulling an early meeting" he explains to them. "As I mention before, we suspect its more towards you personally than what you have...she is known to operate without logical sense, but from the intensity of her psychological attack, I won't count that as being the last, but more to come no doubt" he mentions as he turns around begins to walk away. "So if you all don't mind lets not keep the Frost Queen waiting" he says hinting at the fact he wants them to follow.
Assuming that they did, they would go through multiple long hallways towards a dark room with light monitors being the only sources of light and Cathorine hunched over a holotable assuming she was looking at data. She would look up and ask "I'm glade to see you all here, so lets start this off with questions since I'm assuming you may have seen the incomplete yet?" as she looks at her group and at Rin as she waits for a reply.
Rin paled drastically. What- "Impossible," he whispered, horror blanketing the word. "There's too many universes to- an infinite number- she can't-"
This universe is... who is she? No one can be that powerful, that's- His hands started to tremble. He clenched them into fists in an effort to subdue it.
He stared down at the floor, mind whirling with calculations and possibilites and gods, why, before the sound of footsteps walking away snapped him out of his thoughts. He wrapped his arms around himself, sighed, then took off his helmet and put it down on his ship before going to follow them.
They were led into what he assumed was the war room, seeing as Queen Cathorine was over a table projecting different holograms. At her question, he shook his head. He hadn't seen any data about Lord Ova yet, but he was sure that they would go over her profile anyway.
This universe is... who is she? No one can be that powerful, that's- His hands started to tremble. He clenched them into fists in an effort to subdue it.
He stared down at the floor, mind whirling with calculations and possibilites and gods, why, before the sound of footsteps walking away snapped him out of his thoughts. He wrapped his arms around himself, sighed, then took off his helmet and put it down on his ship before going to follow them.
They were led into what he assumed was the war room, seeing as Queen Cathorine was over a table projecting different holograms. At her question, he shook his head. He hadn't seen any data about Lord Ova yet, but he was sure that they would go over her profile anyway.
Nirix wished she could go back.
Her emotions had never been like this, never so vivid and violent. Sure, others had questioned her relationship with Ketin, several times before but Nirix had thought it was clearly defined. Ketin was her family, someone she deeply cared for and would protect with her life if she had to.
Yet at her utterance of caretaker, at her finally admittance of what bond she thought they shared, Ketin had spoken in a strained voice. It felt like she had annoyed him as if she had been rude and cruel with that usage of the word and it was not for her to say.
It hurt but so did Arnaldo’s string of accusations.
She had been trying to defend herself, it seemed, trying to make her voice heard but instead she began to feed her anger.
Who was she mad at, herself or her emotions which reminded her that she too, could feel so very vulnerable?
Shedding her clothing, Nirix walked leisurely to the shower, her toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Her mind felt like it was in shreds; her emotions had picked away at her once cool demeanor. When had everything gotten like this? When had suppressing her emotions become so hard?
Closing her eyes, she let the warm drops fall upon her, letting it darken her hair and trickle down her back. She wished she could be like the water; Water was always peaceful. Whispering a silent prayer to whoever of her gods would listen, she asked for the water to dissolve all hurts and emotions, no matter how futile it seemed. Somehow, when Nirix envisioned the water extinguishing the inflamed emotions and hurt, she felt better and whole.
With a more light-hearted sigh, she began to bathe her skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises that scattered her body from her previous spar. After her shower was finished and she had slumped into bed, Nirix lay there, wondered what to do next. Her mind felt empty now as if the shower had also erased all of her thoughts too. Staring absent-mindedly at the bottom of Ketin’s empty bunk, she wondered what her first course of action would be.
Apologizing seemed to be a step in the right direction. She knew to whom she should apologize first but somehow her feet stayed put and refused to obey her commands. The truth was, Nirix didn’t want to go straight marching off to Arnaldo. Ketin was there and Nirix dared not to face him yet. She couldn’t bear to see the flash of offended emotion in his heterochromia eyes. He would lie about it, most likely, tell her something to make her feel better but Nirix would still know.
She would still wish she could go back.
Re-dressing herself, Nirix ran her fingers through her still damp hair and shrugged off the unease that had suddenly settled in her stomach. It appeared Wick would receive her first apology.
Her emotions had never been like this, never so vivid and violent. Sure, others had questioned her relationship with Ketin, several times before but Nirix had thought it was clearly defined. Ketin was her family, someone she deeply cared for and would protect with her life if she had to.
Yet at her utterance of caretaker, at her finally admittance of what bond she thought they shared, Ketin had spoken in a strained voice. It felt like she had annoyed him as if she had been rude and cruel with that usage of the word and it was not for her to say.
It hurt but so did Arnaldo’s string of accusations.
She had been trying to defend herself, it seemed, trying to make her voice heard but instead she began to feed her anger.
Who was she mad at, herself or her emotions which reminded her that she too, could feel so very vulnerable?
Shedding her clothing, Nirix walked leisurely to the shower, her toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Her mind felt like it was in shreds; her emotions had picked away at her once cool demeanor. When had everything gotten like this? When had suppressing her emotions become so hard?
Closing her eyes, she let the warm drops fall upon her, letting it darken her hair and trickle down her back. She wished she could be like the water; Water was always peaceful. Whispering a silent prayer to whoever of her gods would listen, she asked for the water to dissolve all hurts and emotions, no matter how futile it seemed. Somehow, when Nirix envisioned the water extinguishing the inflamed emotions and hurt, she felt better and whole.
With a more light-hearted sigh, she began to bathe her skin lightly, taking careful notice not to touch the bruises that scattered her body from her previous spar. After her shower was finished and she had slumped into bed, Nirix lay there, wondered what to do next. Her mind felt empty now as if the shower had also erased all of her thoughts too. Staring absent-mindedly at the bottom of Ketin’s empty bunk, she wondered what her first course of action would be.
Apologizing seemed to be a step in the right direction. She knew to whom she should apologize first but somehow her feet stayed put and refused to obey her commands. The truth was, Nirix didn’t want to go straight marching off to Arnaldo. Ketin was there and Nirix dared not to face him yet. She couldn’t bear to see the flash of offended emotion in his heterochromia eyes. He would lie about it, most likely, tell her something to make her feel better but Nirix would still know.
She would still wish she could go back.
Re-dressing herself, Nirix ran her fingers through her still damp hair and shrugged off the unease that had suddenly settled in her stomach. It appeared Wick would receive her first apology.
The Don sighed as he hunches himself over on the bar top and looks at the group and see's the Eoclu leave, presumably back to her room. He looks at the bartender and says to him "Let me go ahead and give our Eoclu friend the old Valentine sundae with nice sprinkles" The bartender smiles and says "Very well then, I'll have it sent to her room right away" as he picks up the bar phone and says "Alright I need one Valentine sundae for a grumpy Eoclu on board, make sure she feels better and the ingredients are in the cup board" and he then he hung up and gave out shots to the Don, Donnie and the himself and says "For the betterment of the Eoclu" as he raises his glass and takes the shot. Both men did the same but declared "AYYY" as they took there shots.
Only after at least 3 minutes, there were at least 5 armed men in all black. One with a drum fed tommy gun with a suppressor and two with short barrel pump action shotguns, while the two other men have machetes. They all looked at each other and nodded. The man with the Tommy gun cocked the gun and kicks down the door and unloads inside the room filling it holes(however not enough to penetrate the hull to cause an actual problem for the ship) as the others were ready to react.
Only after at least 3 minutes, there were at least 5 armed men in all black. One with a drum fed tommy gun with a suppressor and two with short barrel pump action shotguns, while the two other men have machetes. They all looked at each other and nodded. The man with the Tommy gun cocked the gun and kicks down the door and unloads inside the room filling it holes(however not enough to penetrate the hull to cause an actual problem for the ship) as the others were ready to react.
Erica's face lit up and says "Since he's a merchant he'll be stopping at different space stations and since all of the space stations are connected into one network...we can predict were he'll be going next or go to where he was or is at!" as she looks at them. "Alright you two, we need to visit a space station and I'll need to access its logs to find our little cat friend" she says as she looks at them with gleam glade she was able to start somewhere. "I know the nearest space station we can visit first...if you want you can join me. I promise on my life your ship will be safe here. If you don't want to, just follow my wake, but it'll be hard to get in because you use unknown numbers and info on your ship" she explains as she walks onto the ramp and looks at them seeing what they decide to do.
Vaxur saw Commander Wyr shake her head. "I am sorry, but we cannot leave our ship behind. It contains a piece of technology essential for us to get back to where we came from."
He jumped in the conversation, burying his feelings of anger under a lighter facade and a confident smile. "I'll be able to follow you on our ship. Or, if you don't mind- your ship seems pretty big. Is there a hanger for scout ships? That way, we can bring our ship, without worrying about following behind and getting separated or lost."
He jumped in the conversation, burying his feelings of anger under a lighter facade and a confident smile. "I'll be able to follow you on our ship. Or, if you don't mind- your ship seems pretty big. Is there a hanger for scout ships? That way, we can bring our ship, without worrying about following behind and getting separated or lost."
The Perrygold
There was no chance for Alice to reply. No chance for anything. No time for anything. That seemed to be the theme these days. He was so sick of it.
It was now that the constant, underlying tension would come to his aid. After three centuries of suppressed paranoia, this was the kind of awareness that was second nature to Ketin Clarke. The constant and repetitious chaos that had been befalling him only put him on edge, made him ready for anything.
The Eye made the connections that Ketin could not. The most relevant data, recorded and stored away in a paradoxically nonexistent databank, was recalled in less than a heartbeat. The eyes and words and immediate intentions of the mobsters in the corner. A machine of inconceivable complexity, bordering on intelligence now, after Daedalus.
Eyes had already been subconsciously monitoring practically every little camera on the ship. He wasn’t paying attention, but The Devil’s Eye was.
The Devil’s Eye is always wa͠tc̀hi̵ng̶..́.
It was the appearance of seriously suspicious men in one corner of his mind that gave him the two-second head-start, but an idiot could have put together the facts if they’d heard what the men in the corner had been saying. It was blatantly obvious who was responsible – and Ketin acted more on reflex than thought. And this time, having learned from the past few days, he did not hesitate to immediately leap to the most drastic measure in his arsenal. No trying to work it out. No chances.
No chances!
The door blew open – and the lights went out.
All over the ship, systems shut down simultaneously. All systems. The Perrygold was, for all intents and purposes, dead. Life support was out. Propulsion was out. Utter blackness and silence – save for the scattered panic of passengers who knew that even the smallest malfunction aboard a starship could mean swift and agonizing death for everyone aboard.
Luckily, the critical systems were able to recover within seconds – but there would be no light. Ketin would not allow it. The EM-Pulse that temporarily devastated the Perrygold was immediately followed by an onslaught of focused electrons into the lighting system. Readings would indicate that circuits were fried, repeating hundreds of times a minute as The Eye told them what it wanted them to think.
It was only then, in the seconds following the blackout, while the engines were still dead-silent, that the kicking of a door down the hall could be heard and, more disturbingly, gunfire.
That sent everyone in the bar into something of a panic. Not wild and dangerous, but clearly everyone was frightened and wanted to know what was happening.
Ketin had lost his sight with everyone else. With no cameras, he was restricted to brains, and eyes that had only pitch blackness to affront them. But he wasn’t afraid. He had Arnaldo.
The little man’s senses were so honed that all the others made up for the lack of sight – it was uncomfortable, but tolerable. He could use the man’s awareness, piggyback off it, to fling himself out of the chair and go sprinting into the hallway without more than a few shoves.
And still within the ten seconds following the door to room 76 being blown down, a crackling and a screech came over the shipwide intercom – side effects of its’ power being restored in the immediate aftermath of an EMP blast. By the time the gunfire had ceased, a voice was coming over the intercoms. He sounded young, but plagued by smoker’s lungs or some such affliction. Raspy and angry, with a ferocious growl to it.
”Attention passengers of the Perrygold! Listen the @#$% up! This ship is now the property of Cesare Garofalo! and the Flaming @#$%wagons! We’re taking over the ship and anyone who tries to stop us will be cut down like cattle! Is that clear! Our boss is a ruthless killer y’hear? So anyone gets any ideas about shootin’ up the bar better be a damned good shot!”
There was another awful screech as the force of the EMP took over again and then only the sounds of gradually increasing panic around the ship.
There was no chance for Alice to reply. No chance for anything. No time for anything. That seemed to be the theme these days. He was so sick of it.
It was now that the constant, underlying tension would come to his aid. After three centuries of suppressed paranoia, this was the kind of awareness that was second nature to Ketin Clarke. The constant and repetitious chaos that had been befalling him only put him on edge, made him ready for anything.
The Eye made the connections that Ketin could not. The most relevant data, recorded and stored away in a paradoxically nonexistent databank, was recalled in less than a heartbeat. The eyes and words and immediate intentions of the mobsters in the corner. A machine of inconceivable complexity, bordering on intelligence now, after Daedalus.
Eyes had already been subconsciously monitoring practically every little camera on the ship. He wasn’t paying attention, but The Devil’s Eye was.
The Devil’s Eye is always wa͠tc̀hi̵ng̶..́.
It was the appearance of seriously suspicious men in one corner of his mind that gave him the two-second head-start, but an idiot could have put together the facts if they’d heard what the men in the corner had been saying. It was blatantly obvious who was responsible – and Ketin acted more on reflex than thought. And this time, having learned from the past few days, he did not hesitate to immediately leap to the most drastic measure in his arsenal. No trying to work it out. No chances.
No chances!
The door blew open – and the lights went out.
All over the ship, systems shut down simultaneously. All systems. The Perrygold was, for all intents and purposes, dead. Life support was out. Propulsion was out. Utter blackness and silence – save for the scattered panic of passengers who knew that even the smallest malfunction aboard a starship could mean swift and agonizing death for everyone aboard.
Luckily, the critical systems were able to recover within seconds – but there would be no light. Ketin would not allow it. The EM-Pulse that temporarily devastated the Perrygold was immediately followed by an onslaught of focused electrons into the lighting system. Readings would indicate that circuits were fried, repeating hundreds of times a minute as The Eye told them what it wanted them to think.
It was only then, in the seconds following the blackout, while the engines were still dead-silent, that the kicking of a door down the hall could be heard and, more disturbingly, gunfire.
That sent everyone in the bar into something of a panic. Not wild and dangerous, but clearly everyone was frightened and wanted to know what was happening.
Ketin had lost his sight with everyone else. With no cameras, he was restricted to brains, and eyes that had only pitch blackness to affront them. But he wasn’t afraid. He had Arnaldo.
The little man’s senses were so honed that all the others made up for the lack of sight – it was uncomfortable, but tolerable. He could use the man’s awareness, piggyback off it, to fling himself out of the chair and go sprinting into the hallway without more than a few shoves.
And still within the ten seconds following the door to room 76 being blown down, a crackling and a screech came over the shipwide intercom – side effects of its’ power being restored in the immediate aftermath of an EMP blast. By the time the gunfire had ceased, a voice was coming over the intercoms. He sounded young, but plagued by smoker’s lungs or some such affliction. Raspy and angry, with a ferocious growl to it.
”Attention passengers of the Perrygold! Listen the @#$% up! This ship is now the property of Cesare Garofalo! and the Flaming @#$%wagons! We’re taking over the ship and anyone who tries to stop us will be cut down like cattle! Is that clear! Our boss is a ruthless killer y’hear? So anyone gets any ideas about shootin’ up the bar better be a damned good shot!”
There was another awful screech as the force of the EMP took over again and then only the sounds of gradually increasing panic around the ship.
The echo of gunshot bounced off the walls in cabin 77, causing the sleeping Wick to shoot upright again. Very rarely did he find himself waking up to weapons firing, but it was common sense that it being that close meant trouble.
"That was room 76." he mumbled to himself, getting his vest on. Nirix was in there. Even if they were only acquaintances - not good ones at the moment but still - sitting idly by while a most-likely innocent person was being attacked was not on his to-do list. The gun was still firing when Wick opened the door of cabin 77, giving him the cover he needed briefly. Five men stood outside of the room, all armed with guns though only one was using his at the moment.
Wick's hands went pale with heat, small flames occasionally dancing up at the fingertips. Careful, he thought to himself, Careful. Only one thing at a time, and one stray bullet means I'm gone. Alice would never forgive me for that. Get rid of the guns, then handle the guys.
Running, which was a difficult feat for him with his bruises, Wick shoved into the group like a bowling ball through pins. With luck, a few of them would fall over into each other and give him some time, His right hand grabbed steadfast to the face of the man holding the tommy gun, which would cause a searing and intense pain almost immediately. Bringing the other burning hand to the man's side, Wick tried to get the gunman to turn and start firing on his friends.
Alice wasn't used to people complimenting her looks. When people complimented her, usually it was for her brains or her genius inventions, always praising so much potential she had as an inventor. Alcie couldn't think of a single time she'd ever been called "pretty". Sure, she didn't think she was very unattracitve, but it was still something no one had really said before. But she had no chance to really say anything, for the lights went out. Then there was the announcement over the loudspeakers. A takeover? On her vacation? Seriously?! Ducking under the table, she began to rummage through her pockets for anything useful
"That was room 76." he mumbled to himself, getting his vest on. Nirix was in there. Even if they were only acquaintances - not good ones at the moment but still - sitting idly by while a most-likely innocent person was being attacked was not on his to-do list. The gun was still firing when Wick opened the door of cabin 77, giving him the cover he needed briefly. Five men stood outside of the room, all armed with guns though only one was using his at the moment.
Wick's hands went pale with heat, small flames occasionally dancing up at the fingertips. Careful, he thought to himself, Careful. Only one thing at a time, and one stray bullet means I'm gone. Alice would never forgive me for that. Get rid of the guns, then handle the guys.
Running, which was a difficult feat for him with his bruises, Wick shoved into the group like a bowling ball through pins. With luck, a few of them would fall over into each other and give him some time, His right hand grabbed steadfast to the face of the man holding the tommy gun, which would cause a searing and intense pain almost immediately. Bringing the other burning hand to the man's side, Wick tried to get the gunman to turn and start firing on his friends.
Alice wasn't used to people complimenting her looks. When people complimented her, usually it was for her brains or her genius inventions, always praising so much potential she had as an inventor. Alcie couldn't think of a single time she'd ever been called "pretty". Sure, she didn't think she was very unattracitve, but it was still something no one had really said before. But she had no chance to really say anything, for the lights went out. Then there was the announcement over the loudspeakers. A takeover? On her vacation? Seriously?! Ducking under the table, she began to rummage through her pockets for anything useful
Erica's eyes squinted as she looks at there little scout ship. She thought about it for a moment and said "Just be inside your ship and I'll make it fit" as she enters her own ship and starts the engines. Once the ship was off the ground, it slowly hovered over Wyr's and Vaxur's ship and she took care in lining up her cargo hull which opened up to allow the small scout ship to be picked up. She aligns with the scout ship and slowly lowers down upon it. It was definitely was going to be a tight squeezed and luckily Erica was using a top down camera so she can make sure she is perfect in picking up the ship. She held her breath as the ship entered the cargo bay, just barely fitting and once inside the magnet grip kicked on and zapped the scout ship into place with larger ship and the cargo opening closed. Erica gave a sighed of relieve and zoomed out of the asteroid base and put in the coordinates towards the nearby space station and went into hyper space.
Once into hyperspace, she comes down towards her new passengers and says "I am surprised this ship actually fit inside" as she looks at the scout ship and realize how close it was to the walls of her ship. Any bigger and the ship wouldn't fit at all.
Once into hyperspace, she comes down towards her new passengers and says "I am surprised this ship actually fit inside" as she looks at the scout ship and realize how close it was to the walls of her ship. Any bigger and the ship wouldn't fit at all.
Wyr gave an exasperated- not amused, why would anyone think that nope- sigh as she saw her teammate somewhat eccentrically pop his head out of the opening of their ship.
"Pretty snug, I'd say!" he exclaimed, giving the woman a cheeky thumbs up. Despite his cheerful demeanor, she could tell he was still not completely at ease; it was only because she knew him for this long that she was able to make out his still-not-quite-relaxed shoulders, or how his voice wasn't in the pitch it would be if he was genuinely happy. She was willing to bet that if she was seeing his face, his smile still wouldn't have reached his eyes.
"By the way, we never got to introduce ourselves, huh?" That was her cue, she supposed. She got up to step behind him. "Name's Vaxur, and she's Commander Wyr." She nodded in acknowledgement. "What's yours?"
"Pretty snug, I'd say!" he exclaimed, giving the woman a cheeky thumbs up. Despite his cheerful demeanor, she could tell he was still not completely at ease; it was only because she knew him for this long that she was able to make out his still-not-quite-relaxed shoulders, or how his voice wasn't in the pitch it would be if he was genuinely happy. She was willing to bet that if she was seeing his face, his smile still wouldn't have reached his eyes.
"By the way, we never got to introduce ourselves, huh?" That was her cue, she supposed. She got up to step behind him. "Name's Vaxur, and she's Commander Wyr." She nodded in acknowledgement. "What's yours?"
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