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LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Last Will and Testamant

2014-05-15T12:16:56Z

Ham: Created page with "'''Last Will and Testamant''' "Adnan Zebra! I'll obliterate you and fling your pathetic atoms into space!" "Good morning, overlord." <b..."

'''Last Will and Testamant'''
 
"Adnan Zebra! I'll obliterate you and fling your pathetic atoms into space!"
 
"Good morning, overlord."
 
Adrian Zanfran smiled, tapped a purple tentacle to his brow in salute, and continued down the hallway. He could almost feel Barp Sek Bul's glare on his back as he went.
 
"I'll blast your wretched legs off, and have diseased Snuuth fill their bowels with toxic waste and defecate in the wounds!"
 
Something fizzed behind him. A red beam flashed past on his left, and a vending machine exploded. Cans of fizzy drink sprayed their sweet, sticky innards all over the floor.
 
"I will destroy you!"
 
"New doomsday weapon, overlord?" A potted plant disintegrated on his right. "I like this one."
 
"Fear my superior technology!"
 
A chunk of ceiling crashed down behind him. Flecks of dust wafted past on either side.
 
"The report'll be with you tomorrow," he said, without looking back.
 
"Very well! Then you will remain integrated for another day. Someone clean this mess up, or I'll annihilate you all!"
 
Adrian whistled a Screaming Barracuda song and continued on his way. When he'd first started at the Mighty Rylattu Publishing House of Ultimate Might, little things like threats of disintegration, or having doomsday weapons fired in his general direction, might have troubled him. But these days he took them in his stride. Barp Sek Bul hadn't destroyed him yet, and as long as sales in human space remained strong (which appeared to constitute anything above zero), he expected that happy trend to continue.
 
"Greetings, puny human!"
 
"Kill the human!"
 
"That human works for us!"
 
"Kill him anyway, and steal his fabled zebra!"
 
Adrian responded to each welcome and incitement to murder with a friendly grin and a nod, till he reached his sanctum. He let out a contented sigh as its door closed behind him. Sure, it wasn't the greatest office in the galaxy. It had started life as a radioactive waste storage unit -- which meant several days spent carting barrels of green goo through the building, while the Supreme Editing Overlord yelled at him about deadlines and promised multitudinous dooms. And the decor... Animated pictures hung on much of the wall space. Each showed a Rylattu blasting, eviscerating, or otherwise disposing of a human being over and over again. But on the other hand, he had a window. And a little collection of holographic book covers which represented his contributions to the company. All in all, Adrian Zanfran hence considered his professional life and circumstances to be quite satisfactory indeed.
 
With that happy thought in mind, he sat at his desk and opened his report on mankind's religious beliefs. Barp Sek Bul hadn't been overly impressed when Adrian first pitched the idea and explained some of humanity's most populous faiths.
 
"This 'God' is foolish! Flood? Locusts? You call those doomsday weapons!?! We should destroy him with our superior technology!"
 
But he'd come around to the idea. Thus Adrian had been enjoying a few weeks of religious scholarship, researching everything from Catholicism to a fringe group led by a female Vlarg who prayed to herself and had a passion for Earth's Caribbean cuisine. The freelance human flexed his tentacles and continued with that enterprise. Holographic screens appeared around him, chronicling his various sources and avenues of research, while his purple appendages went to work compiling the appropriate elements into his report.
 
Zanfran lost himself in his task. Even when the door to his office opened and a succession of angry faces popped in, he replied to their yells without taking his eyes off his screens.
 
"Insignificant human! I-"
 
"Cheese and pickle, on ciabatta."
 
After a number of threats and insults, the requisite sandwich appeared beside him. He grabbed it with one tentacle, brought it to his mouth, and continued to type with the other. The cheese was still moving, but that was okay. The Rylattu knew more about weapons of mass destruction than dairy products.
 
"Adnan Zebra, prepare to die!"
 
"Tomorrow, overlord. It'll be done tomorrow."
 
Thus his day rolled on, until he looked up, rubbed his sore eyes, and discovered that he was sitting in the little island of artificial brightness created by his screens. Darkness obscured the motivational pictures, turning them into incomprehensible shifting oblongs. No cries, gunfire, explosions, or manic laughter came through the door. Another workday had gone by at the Mighty Rylattu Publishing House of Ultimate Might, leaving him alone and tired but intact.
 
Adrian got up, yawned, and stretched. His tentacles curled and uncurled. He crossed to the exit, determined to locate and consume enough caffeine to see him through till his deadline. The portal slid open. And Adrian gasped.
 
"Who... What the..."
 
A featureless masked face stared at him from two bright slits.
 
"Adnan Zebra?" the woman in blue said.
 
"N... No. My name's Adrian Zanfran, but what-"
 
Her cyan eyes flashed. Something rushed towards the forefront of his mind, as though a fisherman's hook yanked it through his brain's soft tissues. It popped into his consciousness.
 
"Adnan Zebra! I'll obliterate you and fling your pathetic atoms into space!"
 
He staggered backwards, pressing his tentacles to his head, trying to hold his memories inside his skull before they spilled all over the floor.
 
"Liar!" Her eyes shone in the darkness.
 
"No! You... You don't understand! My name's really... Oh, hell!"
 
He stumbled around and lunged for the window. It shot open in the same instant. Another pair of bright eyes gleamed over the sill. Adrian Zanfran fell away, backpedaling as the man pulled himself into the room and both masked weirdoes in blue jumpsuits stepped towards him.
 
"Wait! Tell the overlord I'll get the report done! I... I'll..."
 
His buttocks thudded against the edge of his desk. The masks loomed closer, and cyan flames incinerated his thoughts.
 
"Scour his mind and his files," the woman said, "then melt his brain."
 
"No! I'll meet the deadline! I'll meet the fuc-"
 
"Puny humans! How dare you invade the Mighty Rylattu Publishing House of Ultimate Might!"
 
The masked duo spun round. Kwix stood in the doorway, staring along the barrel of a weapon that looked large enough to fire people instead of bullets.
 
"Prepare to be destroyed, worthless stink-beasts!"
 
"No!" Adrian cried.
 
"Not you! The other worthless stink-beasts!"
 
"Oh!"
 
Adrian threw himself on the floor and sprawled there. A brilliant, blinding wave of yellow light flooded the room. It seemed to go on forever, searing away the entire galaxy, until he blinked and realized that he was looking at the afterimage burned into his vision. Incandescence began to fade. In its wake, two pairs of legs collapsed beneath cauterized stumps of pelvis. There was now a large, circular hole in his office wall. He wondered if the Supreme Editing Overlord would destroy him for that.
 
Kwix walked over and kicked one of the lifeless legs. The freelance human stood up.
 
"Your pathetic friends have been exterminated!"
 
"They weren't my friends! They were going to kill me! I..."
 
His communicator bleeped. And because manners were important, even amidst chaos and carnage, he answered right away.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu," a voice said. "Prime Minister of the Sian Empire."
 
"But you're-"
 
"If you're about to inform me that I'm dead, I am already well aware of this fact, and stating the obvious to a recorded message is of minimal value."
 
"I've heard of that pathetic stink-beast! He-"
 
"You've been engaged in research on human religious cults," the politician continued, "and uncovered intriguing details about the ancestor of a certain Novocastrian aristocrat. You requested an interview with her to discuss the matter, but she refused. She was most displeased. In fact, I suspect that in the near future her agents may make an attempt on your life."
 
Adrian Zanfran glanced at the pairs of legs lying on his carpet.
 
"You will gather all your research material, encrypt it using the attached protocols, then deliver it to the following account..."
 
The freelance human tottered against his desk, and wondered what he'd got himself into.
 
'''Wishes of Wu 1'''
 
"Bao..."
 
The Vlarg's three eyes shifted. Low-light vision, a keen night gaze that would have done his namesake proud, gave way to blotches of color as focus and dominance altered -- to greens and blues, yellows and reds. But in all fields and frequencies of sight, his prey remained the same. Five enemies. A Snuuth, three humans, and a Sussurra. No hidden dangers lurked in the shadows around the metal crates.
 
"There are debts which have gone unsettled."
 
Sloppy and careless. But why wouldn't they be? Licenses made their arms trading legal, so they had nothing to fear from the authorities. And their promiscuous dealings with all the city's major gangs kept them safe from criminal interference. They knew how to ingratiate themselves and turn a profit, wherever they found themselves.
 
"Retributions long overdue."
 
Bao could've picked all five of them off with a rifle. But if that had been Master Wu's desire, the mandarin would've selected another assassin. Instead he'd chosen the Jaguar. Bao's furry lips parted in a fierce, predatory smile.
 
His claws slid from their forearm sheaths, noiseless. The long blades didn't glint in the moonlight. But his eyes did.
 
"Fickle allies are more contemptible than enemies."
 
He padded towards them, swift and silent. They lounged against the big, heavy crates -- boxes of such armaments as they'd first sold to the empire's enemies, then to her freedom fighters as political fortunes shifted, and now to Centi Prider terrorists and raiders who preyed on imperial worlds.
 
One of the humans turned. The man's eyes widened. His mouth opened. But knowledge came too late and brought horror instead of salvation. A claw-blade thrust. Blood dripped from his mouth.
 
"Make an example."
 
A woman shrieked and shot. She was still blasting at shadows when steel severed her spine. The next one fell face first, wearing a huge hole in her chest where the Snuuth's panicked gunfire had caught her. One cut took off her killer's arm and weapon. A second opened his immense gut, decorating the dirt with gory streamers. The Snuuth moaned. Flabby hands grabbed at his innards, but they slipped through red fingers. Intestinal stench and the richness of blood met in the Vlarg's nose.
 
"Let their associates know their leader suffered."
 
The Sussurra leapt straight at Bao. Of course. What did a gaseous alien have to fear from a blade, other than the price of a new suit? The first cut would rip it open. Then his amorphous body could rush into his enemy's throat and lungs. Or so he likely thought.
 
Bao's claw flashed blue. The Sussurra's scream reminded him of violins.
 
And Wu Tenchu's work was done.
 
'''Wishes of Wu 2'''
 

"Shayu..."
 
The old woman looked both ways before unlocking her apartment door. But that wasn't unusual. Everyone who lived on this floor knew she performed the same ritual every time she entered her unit. If her gaze caught anyone else's while she did this, if a neighbor happened to glance in her direction, she always smiled and spoke words of greeting. And whenever she discovered a patient ear, she talked about the weather or her grandson on Novocastria. He was a pastry chef. She loved his eclairs, though they disagreed with her tummy. She wasn't too taken with his wife, however, who'd only married him for his choux pastry. And (she always whispered this part) the girl was getting quite fat!
 
No, there was nothing strange or furtive in her mannerisms. She was just a lonely old lady hoping for a little conversation to liven up her dreary days.
 
"There's a drop of blood hidden in the ocean. It will take a shark to sniff it out."
 
That afternoon there were no loquacious neighbors to greet or bore. She looked both ways again, however, and any observer may have thought the poor woman was desperate for human interaction. Though they may have wondered why her sweeping gaze paused twice merely to stare at the wall. The surgeon who'd installed her cybernetic eyes, those expensive objects hidden behind layers of false flesh, would've understood. But he was long dead.
 
She opened the door and went inside. A series of locks and bolts thudded into place behind her. The intruder alarm armed itself. She exhaled, safe once more, and crossed the lounge.
 
"That's far enough," a female voice said.
 
The old woman gasped. A blue-skinned Piscarian stood in the dining room doorway, pointing a pistol.
 
"I... I don't have any jewelry or hard creds!"
 
While the words tumbled off her tongue, her mind reeled. This wasn't possible. Her thermal imaging had shown two of her neighbors fornicating in the most degenerate way imaginable, and another one strangling himself in his closet. But her own apartment had been empty. Her left eye twitched, changing the vision setting back to that heat-sensing glare. The Piscarian vanished. Another twitch and the world returned, resuming its usual colors and clarity. The intruder's steely eyes stared at her once again. So did the leveled weapon. A faint smile flickered on those blue lips, as though they understood her confusion and savored it as a bloody morsel.
 
"Follow the trails and unravel their tangles. Find what no one else has seen."
 
"Of course not. You people never did like jewelry. And you don't need hard creds when you have a dozen secret accounts, do you, Councilor Jerv?"
 
"Listen..." The old woman's voice was different now. Harder, keener. "I know there's a bounty on my head, but I can give you a hundred times more. Tell whoever you work for-"
 
"I work for Wu Tenchu."
 
The color drained from her wrinkled face.
 
"Once you've located your target, uncovered her wherever she hides, don't alert your superiors. Tell only the assassins on this list, and have them do what must be done."
 
Her hand darted under her coat. The Piscarian's pistol whispered, and the last council member of the Centurian Collective collapsed with a punctured brow.
 
Operative Shayu stared at the corpse for perhaps half a minute, eyes boring into the dark hole that had pierced skull and brain. She wasn't accustomed to violent death at such close quarters. Her customary role was to detect and expose -- before others moved in for the kill. But this was different. Because it was the mandarin's last wish, and she would never have entrusted it to anyone else.
 
'''Wishes of Wu 3'''
 
"She..."
 
"Boss! Boss!"
 
Harv Tereb ran down the corridor, one hand pressed to his flank. Blood leaked between his fingers and seeped down the leg of his beige pants in a long, broadening crimson trail. He looked back over his shoulder. The hallway was empty. For now. There was still time...
 
He hit the door hard. It shook his bones and made him squeal. But the heavy slab opened, and he staggered into the room.
 
"They're... They're coming for us, boss!" He leaned against her desk, looked into her widening eyes, and panted. "Oh, God! They're coming!"
 
Millicent Carmara jumped up and shoved her chair aside. It banged against a side table. A decanter shattered under a blow from its heavy armrest, and a waterfall of red wine gushed over the edge of the wood. Purple bloomed like gunshot wounds on the carpet below.
 
"You must recover what's ours."
 
"We gotta get outta here!" Harv said.
 
Ms. Carmara (the last person who'd called her 'miss' was distributed among a number of pickle jars in the basement) swore, and ran over to the rack of long black firearms.
 
"Open the vault!" she said, as she struggled to unclamp a plasma shotgun.
 
"There ain't time!"
 
"Idiot! We're not leaving that behind! You know how much the damned thing's worth?"
 
Harv grunted, but he went to the opposite wall, one hand still pressed against his side, and drove his other hand at the palm pad. Lights flashed -- scanning his skin, his retinas, his brain.
 
"The dawn is bright in the east," a computerized voice said.
 
"I don't frickin' care!"
 
"That is not the correct phrase. You have two attempts remaining."
 
"Screw you!"
 
"Harv!" Ms. Carmara yanked the weapon down. "I swear to God..."
 
"I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Because the scanners could detect panic or duress. "But shadows darken the west."
 
"Accepted," the computer said.
 
There were a series of clicks and bleeps, and Harv sighed. That was close... The safe was set to destroy everything inside if anyone tried to gain unauthorized access, and he didn't want his future to include bits of him floating in jars.
 
The thick, armored door hissed open -- revealing a magnificent jade statuette in the shape of an oriental dragon. Its long, sinuous body curled around a pillar marked with Chinese characters.
 
"The Sian Empire's treasures belong to its people, and must remain among them."
 
Harv groaned.
 
"I can't carry this frickin' thing with one hand!" He turned around. "I..."
 
He stared into the big, gaping barrel of Ms. Carmara's plasma weapon.
 
"You won't have to," she said.
 
Harv screamed. The weapon blazed. And a bolt of superheated gas burned away his lower legs.
 
"Aaaaaarrrrrrrgggghhhhhh!"
 
He rolled on the carpet, screaming, thrashing. His stumps kicked at the air, drummed on the floor, trying to find purchase with phantom feet. Ms. Carmara sauntered over to him. She smiled and ripped her face off. A second visage smiled beneath the ruined mask.
 
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "Worth every credit Carmara asked for. But the Sian Empire doesn't pay for property stolen during the Centurian occupation."
 
The shotgun fired again, and Harv needn't have worried. There wasn't enough of him left to put in a jar.
 

'''Wishes of Wu 4'''
 
"Zhao..."
 
Professor Mycroft ran the computer simulation again. And once again. Then, just to make sure, he did it another time. But on each occasion the result was the same. The holographic ship exploded. Cheerful blurbs of projected text informed him of critical failures, catastrophic overloads, and the deaths of every crew member aboard the hypothetical vessel. He scratched his chin with one of his mechanical limbs and contemplated whether it was time to move to live trials. The threat of imminent doom was a useful motivator when it came to sharpening the intellect.
 
"All debts must be paid in full."
 
"Another successful experiment?" a voice asked. "It must be an impressive bomb to tear through a cruiser like that."
 
"It's not a bomb. It's meant to be a new type of engine."
 
"Ah..."
 
The professor turned around and regarded the intruder -- a young man with slim, handsome Chinese features, dressed in a voluminous black shirt and trousers. The garments were civilian rather than military, but Mycroft suspected the things they concealed weren't so innocuous. One of the scientist's spindly metal arms reached behind him for a railgun.
 
"The Prime Minister of the Sian Empire must keep his word. When he promises punishment, blood must be spilled..."
 
"Fifty-seven security systems should've stopped you getting in here. Fifty-five of them with lethal force. You couldn't have circumvented them all!"
 
"No. But your assistant let me in, when I explained my purpose."
 
"Damn him! Thaddeus! Get in here! Thaddeus! I told you never to-"
 
"And when he makes agreements, no matter how ill-judged others may deem them, they must be fulfilled."
 
"Coming, professor!"
 
A large box entered the room, encircled by blue sleeves and dark-skinned hands. A pair of legs clad in the same color as the former shuffled beneath it.
 
"What is this?" Mycroft asked.
 
"A gift from Wu; your grateful friend
Remembered you at his end."
 
The professor stared at Zhao. The Sian agent coughed.
 
"Forgive me... I had to immerse myself in verse for a previous assignment, and sometimes..."
 
The box thudded on the floor, revealing the broad shoulders and perspiring face of Thaddeus Trest.
 
"I brought this here on an anti-grav lifter," Zhao Chen said, "but your assistant informed me that you don't allow products of lesser engineering in your laboratory."
 
"Is that..." Mycroft stared at the container with the big, bright eyes of a child on Christmas morning.
 
"The substance Prime Minister Wu promised you in return for your assistance during the war. Attempting to secure it through official channels was... problematic."
 
"Ha! Thaddeus, do you know what I can do with this?"
 
"Blow up half the planet if something goes wrong, sir?"
 
"Yes, yes..." He waved a dismissive hand. One of his mechanical appendages echoed the gesture. "But more! So much more!"
 
Zhao Chen bowed.
 
"I shall leave you to your experiments," he said. "Please refrain from blowing up this half of your world until I've left its atmosphere."
 
***
 
Sky Commander Bethany darted beneath the flashing blade, pivoted, tripped a metallic leg, and sprang on her enemy's back as he fell. Her training dagger's energy field glistened. Soft blue light pulsed as she made each thrust. Red glows appeared on the training bot's torso, marking fatal wounds.
 
She stood up and mopped her brow. The angels guarding the windows, a resplendent legion of stained glass and eternal authority, seemed to bestow their approval along with the warm, gentle light that passed through their martial bodies.
 
Bethany usually preferred training with live opponents, but this evening she wanted to be alone. She had much to consider.
 
"Someone may come to you one day, and request a favor. The very notion will shock you. All your training, your beliefs, your instincts, will tell you to refuse. But before you do, remember what a dead man once did for you beneath the Grand Temple..."
 
'''Lady Victoria Ashdown'''
 
The last time you were at a state funeral, potent emotions warred in your breast, devious stratagems revolved in your brain, yearned-for violence twitched in fingers curling to form fists, and fine words flowed from your lips. But that was then. Back when you were Imperial Jian. A wounded hero with sympathy on his side, armies at his command, and a conquered empire to liberate. Before Centurians burned. Before the past swallowed you whole. Before cyan eyes, blue dragons, and the man in black.
 
In the distance, across the square, the procession streams through the last leg of its journey. Men and women in elaborate robes or gleaming Sian dress uniforms serve as its train and vanguard. You can just make out Lu Bu's bright, polished body among them, shining like a star. And there's Telemachus -- wearing a regal costume which you know full well he hates with a passion. Even Ragnar's managed to find a place in the throng. He's bare-chested, as usual. But at least he decided to wear pants.
 
Many of the mandarin's friends are in that grand host. And a few of his political enemies, who're probably expecting an assassin to pop out of the casket at any moment and put bullets in their heads. But others have chosen to pay their respects from afar.
 
"Drink?" Talia asks.
 
She passes you a bottle. You glance at the label.
 
"Single cask," you say.
 
"Yep. When it's gone, it's gone."
 
You pull out the stopper and drink. Complex flavors, sweet and bitter, soft and harsh, honey and chocolate and smoke, tantalize your tongue. It seems an appropriate scotch for the occasion. You pass it back to her and she puts it to her lips.
 
The gunslinger could've joined the procession, of course. But she knew you couldn't. Not without creating a scene. And this day isn't yours to meddle with. So she followed you without a word.
 
There are snipers stationed all over Lanjin Cheng. Aircraft swoop across the skies, flying in formation or hovering around the buildings and scouring them for threats. With so many important dignitaries down there, on an occasion of such magnitude, Zhilan Fan must fear another terrorist attack. But though the rooftops are meant to be off-limits today, no one tries to interfere with this one. Because this roof belongs to Wu Tenchu's people.
 
You lean against the ledge, resting your forearms on warm, sunbaked stone. Talia's sitting on it -- her legs dangling over the long drop to the street below. But perching there is still probably safer than playing thugby or flying like she does. At the opposite end of the building, Zhao and the other agents wear innocuous civilian garb and think their secret thoughts. A couple of them speak to one another. Most stand in silence. For all you know, they've never even met before. It wouldn't surprise you. Wu Tenchu's labyrinthine networks are the stuff of legend.
 
The procession files into the temple. Big screens appear around its walls, showing the ceremony to the crowds teeming outside. There won't be rivers of tears. Not like there were for Illaria. Master Wu wasn't loved by his people as she was. But they respected him, and what he did for the Sian Empire. So they stand and watch while politicians say inane things and only skim the surface of a man few of them knew and fewer understood.
 
"Politicians..." Zhao Chen says. He appears without a sound, leaning beside you. "Such tiresome people, our late friend excluded. I prefer assassinating them to hearing them talk."
 
"I saw the press conference. Fan said the 'terrorists' were killed in space."
 
"Deception, of course. But comforting to the empire's subjects."
 
Talia offers him the bottle. He declines with a slight gesture of his hand.
 
"Noir told me he survived a nuclear attack. I didn't believe him. But..."
 
"Yes. You've found a remarkable enemy. Wu would have enjoyed devising a way to destroy him."
 
"I'll find one. I promise."
 
"I know. Master Wu had faith in you. Otherwise he wouldn't have given his life to try preserving yours." You wince, but there's no accusation in the agent's voice. "In my experience, no being is invincible and invulnerable. It's merely a matter of understanding their weaknesses."
 
"I don't even know what he is."
 
"Bet you some of those cult guys know," Talia says.
 
"All my leads are dead," you say. "I could maybe show myself and lure Noir out, but..."
 
"That would be unwise," Zhao says.
 
"Right. And I don't know how to get at the others. I..."
 
There's a sound, so faint you wouldn't have it heard it without the aid of your aural implant. It takes you a moment to realize that it's your communicator -- set to near silence for propriety's sake. You pull it out. The name on the screen is unfamiliar, as is the picture of a man who appears to have purple tentacles for arms...
 
"Adnan Zebra?" you say.
 
"Adrian Zanfran. My work terminal just... Never mind. Look, I have something for you..."
 
***
 
"You've done... adequately," Victoria Ashdown said.
 
She didn't fail to note the tiny hint of a smile on the grandmistress' holographic face. Cyan fires burned deep in Lady Ashdown's multifaceted eyes. It galled her to admit that Emera had been right about the Haelia girl.
 
"Hail Kalaxia," Emera Tresc said.
 
"Hail Kalaxia."
 
The noblewoman closed the connection. Alexa Haelia... She'd wanted the pyrokineticist harvested, her mind stripped away layer by layer for the secrets it contained. Instead... She sat back in her armchair, stared up at the dark vault of her study's lofty ceiling, and considered the possibilities.
 
Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting lattices of chiaroscuro across azure and cyan floor tiles. No artificial light drove away the shadows that filled the rest of the chamber. Lady Ashdown's gemstone eyes had no need of such things. She...
 
A flicker interrupted her contemplations. A slight, subtle twitching at the back of her consciousness. An intruder. Their mind was concealed, masked by technology or their own psionic abilities. But she knew the signs. Her security had been breached without triggering the alarms. Without giving her guards enough time to cry out or even send a psychic warning.
 
That meant a dangerous enemy. That meant...
 
"Victoria Ashdown, I presume?" a man's voice said.
 
She stood up from her chair, and her eyes shone. There he was -- standing in the tall arched doorway. That fool... That arrogant fool!
 
"[Player's name]!"
 
Lady Ashdown wasn't accustomed to smiling. So when her lips parted, it resembled a gash in her severe features. He'd come right to her! Put his brain within her grasp...
 
"I think one of my ancestors met one of yours," he said. "Judith Ashdown and a detective called Bloodwyn."
 
"Noir enjoys bantering with his favorite enemies. I don't."
 
"That's a shame..."
 
He drew his pistol and fired. Azure light rippled in front of Victoria Ashdown, as the blast died against her psionic shield.
 
"Your memories are mine..." She threw the words from tongue and mind. They reverberated through the gloom. Mental tentacles reached out to ensnare her prize.
 
"Come and get them."
 
-------------------------------------

 
Your mental defenses crumple, crushed beneath the weight of the onslaught. Cyan jewels blaze at its epicenter. And Lady Ashdown's here, inside your mind. Old, strong hands claw at your brain.
 
"Now!" you say.
 
A guitar blares. Its powerful screech awakens the mansion's echoes. An avalanche of sound crashes around you both, filling your head, throwing up fragments of color, sound, and smell. Synesthetic waves break against invisible cliffs and launch their foaming spray in great cascades.
 
"Men of Kruna, stop your drinking,
What the bloody hell're you thinking?
Can't you hear the foemen slinking,
On the battlements?"
 
The universe dances. History whirls around two minds battling for control of a single brain. Cherry blossom gardens on Sian. The foggy streets of Victorian London. Ancient Mycenae. A battlefield outside Burden's Rest. A billion places, voices, sensations.
 
Lady Ashdown lunges at you. She's fast here on this mental plane. As fast as Noir. But this is where you live, and very bad things happen to Kalaxians who try to burgle its secrets.
 
You dart aside. She falls on her face, splashes through a lake of eclectic images. A girl's laughter flows around you. Text whooshes past, a gigantic message streaming across cognitive infinities -- each letter as tall as a skyscraper.
 
---
OMG! You suck! Learn2psi-fight, noob. Kick her ass, [Player's name]! #Z03MG #braintweet
---
 
Colors and music swirl on all sides, caressing and entombing.
 
"Kalaxia!" She leaps to her feet. The movement is absurd and incongruous from a woman of her years, but she vaults like an acrobat. "The blue wyrm watches!"
 
"Wrong blooming dragon, love!" A fat man appears next to her, holding a half-eaten pastry. "Sodding prophecies never work out right..."
 
He grabs the front of her dress, yanks her towards him, and headbutts her square in the face. She flies backwards. He grunts and takes another bite of his steak and kidney pie.
 
You leap after her, sailing over continents, oceans, galaxies.
 
She's lying in a screeching heap, hammering at the nonexistent ground. You land in front of her.
 
"Noir. Tell me what he is."
 
"Hail Kalaxia!"
 
She springs up at you, eyes blazing, glowing fingers clawing at your face. You catch her throat and hold her at arm's length.
 
"Tell..." Your fist crashes into her face. "...me."
 
"He'll destroy you!"
 
"Let's. Try. This. Again."
 
Another punch punctuates each word, thudding against her ancient skull. And every time surreality crashes down, adding its force to the blow, bludgeoning her with the entirety of human history, assaulting her with the immensity of your bloodline and all it's wrought.
 
"Kalaxia will rule the universe, and your pitiful empire will-"
 
"Kasan."
 
The final punch shatters the universe.
 
***
 
"Men of Kruna, with blood splattered,
Leaving corpses dead and battered,
Have all wretched foemen scattered,
Now let's have a drink!"
 
You're sprawled on blue and cyan tiles. Barra's music feels like it's smashing your skull from the inside. According to her critics, that isn't unusual...
 
"Kal... Kalax... Kalaxia..."
 
You struggle to your hands and knees. Someone grasps your shoulder.
 
"It's okay," Talia says. "They've got her."
 
Lady Ashdown's sitting up, her head and arms lolling in the grasp of Zhao Chen and two masked figures in dark, slick garb. Half a dozen empty syringes protrude from her neck and chest.
 
"Kalaxia..."
 
Cyan light drifts around her jewels, a pair of lost fireflies.
 
"Ask your questions quickly," Zhao says. "Her brain won't last long."
 
You dart over, tilt her chin up, and stare into her lidless gemstone eyes.
 
"What is Noir? How can I-"
 
"Noir... New name. Used to be called... called..."
 
"What?"
 
Her head shudders in your grasp. Her body convulses. Light blue energy explodes within the multifaceted monstrosities sunk into her sockets. Blood leaks beneath them, soaking her cheeks, wetting your fingers.
 
"Erebus the Black!"

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T10:04:15Z

Ham:

'''Falls the Shadow'''
 
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

'''Apocalypse in a Box'''
 
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''
 
There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"[Player's name] is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 

'''Family Reunion'''
 
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, [Player's name]?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," [Player's name] said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," [Player's name] said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," [Player's name] said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
[Player's name]'s human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. [Player's name] went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 

'''Sian Dragonfly'''
 
Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story

2014-05-15T10:02:24Z

Ham:

'''The Milky Way'''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Princess_Illaria's_Escape|Princess Illaria's Escape]] (Sian Space) ''The Centurian Collective hunts for Princess Illaria, the last hope of the Sian Empire. Only her champion can save her now.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Legions_of_Steel|Legions of Steel]] (Talos Space) ''Free from the clutches of the Centurians, the Princess and her companions seek aid from TALOS and its robot armies.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Assault on the Zenith|Assault on the Zenith]] (Occupied Sian Space) ''It's time to strike back at the Centurians...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Search for the Princess|The Search for the Princess]] ''The Princess had disappeared, whisked away from the Zenith in a flash of light. But she's out there somewhere, and you'll find her even if you have to tear the galaxy apart.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Politics of War|Politics of War]] (Sol) ''Perhaps it's fitting that the fate of human space might be decided upon Earth, mankind's ancient homeworld.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Aphrodisian Anabasis|Aphrodisian Anabasis]] ''War makes strange bedfellows. And so the Princess must journey to Cythera, the Contella vice-world, to secure that faction's aid against Centurians.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Right Tools|The Right Tools]] ''A mission as ambitious as the one you're planning can only succeed if you have the proper assets at the ready.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/A Masterful Stratagem|A Masterful Stratagem]] ''The Centurians are untouchable while the Emperor is in their grasp. It's time to rectify that...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Scaean_Gates|Scean Gates]] ''She's gone. Now there's nothing left but vengeance.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Because I'm The Wanderer|Because I'm The Wanderer]] ''The galaxy is so vast. So much space to lose yourself in...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Talia's Team|Talia's Team]] ''If she fumbles, her first match might be her last.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Prince & The Pixels|The Prince & The Pixels]] ''Videogames are dangerous. But so's Telemachus.
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Saga of Drunken Ragnar|The Saga of Drunken Ragnar]] ''All good stories start with a drink...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Lu Bu's Halloween|Lu Bu's Halloween]] ''Halloween's for killing and candy. Lu Bu can't eat candy...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays|A. Puny Human Birthdays]] ''"Wretched stink-beast! Tell us about these 'birthdays' your pathetic species celebrates, or we shall destroy you with our superior Rylattu technology!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays II|A2. Puny Human Birthdays II]] (Twice as puny, and full of goo) ''"Puny human! Continue the birthday tales or suffer immediate disintegration!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Christmas Chaos|Christmas Chaos]] ''"Peace on Earth... But they never said anything about the rest of the galaxy."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Music of the Spheres|Music of the Spheres]] ''"When she sings to the stars, the cosmos becomes her chorus."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)|Playing with Fire (Part 1)]] ''"They've been burning for a very long time..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)|Playing with Fire (Part 2)]] ''"You dreamed of fire... But who will burn?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Between Heaven and Hell|Between Heaven and Hell]] ''"Heaven totters on the brink of war, and in the shadows azure eyes blaze."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void|A3. Tales of The Void]] ''"The Dark Delight's passengers have stories to share, but what secrets do they hide?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void 2|A4. Tales of The Void 2]] ''"Stories are powerful indeed. At the Tyraness' court they hold the power of life and death..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Days of Wu|Days of Wu]] ''"One last game of Weiqi, while the mandarin does what must be done."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Number of The Beast|Number of the Beast]] ''"Wu Tenchu's machinations live on..."
[[LotS/La_Historia|Spanish translation]] (Work in progress).

[[LotS/La Storia|Italian translation]] (Work in progress).

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T09:24:07Z

Ham:

'''Falls the Shadow'''
 
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

'''Apocalypse in a Box'''
 
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''

There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"[Player's name] is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 

'''Family Reunion'''
 
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, [Player's name]?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," [Player's name] said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," [Player's name] said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," [Player's name] said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
[Player's name]'s human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. [Player's name] went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 

'''Sian Dragonfly'''

Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T08:58:43Z

Ham:

'''Falls the Shadow'''
 
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

'''Apocalypse in a Box'''
 
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''

There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"Ham is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 
'''Family Reunion'''
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, Ham?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," Ham said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," Ham said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," Ham said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
Ham's human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. Ham went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 

'''Sian Dragonfly'''

Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T08:54:21Z

Ham:

'''Falls the Shadow'''
 
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

''Apocalypse in a Box'''
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''

There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"Ham is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 
'''Family Reunion'''
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, Ham?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," Ham said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," Ham said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," Ham said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
Ham's human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. Ham went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 

'''Sian Dragonfly'''

Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T08:51:05Z

Ham:

'''Falls the Shadow'''
 
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

''Apocalypse in a Box'''
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''

There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"Ham is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 
'''Family Reunion'''
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, Ham?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," Ham said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," Ham said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," Ham said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
Ham's human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. Ham went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 
'''Sian Dragonfly'''
Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow

2014-05-15T08:50:40Z

Ham: Created page with "'''Falls the Shadow''' "[Player's name]? Come on..." Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub..."

'''Falls the Shadow'''
"[Player's name]? Come on..."
 
Talia gazed through the flight cabin's window and sighed. Those were far from the first sub-vocal words she'd cast into the void since leaving Jerusalem Maior. All had gone unanswered. She pressed a button on the communications console, but found no luck there either. Screaming Barracuda was unreachable too. Wu Tenchu had told her not to worry, but hadn't offered any explanation. Now the mandarin wasn't responding to her transmissions.
 
Glass shattered behind her.
 
"Damn it, Tel! Do you have to keep playing that crap?"
 
The gunslinger glanced over her shoulder, at the frozen image that rose from the prince's datapad and hovered in the air between them. [Player's name] was through the glass -- surrounded by its shards -- while his enemy watched the captain with burning eyes.
 
"Who is that guy?" Telemachus said. "He beat the crap out of him!"
 
"His movements indicate human or human-like physiology," Lu Bu said.
 
The robot didn't look round from the co-pilot's chair. His mannerisms were so natural she sometimes forgot that he perceived the world through means beyond those green eyes.
 
"He seems to possess the same joints and range of motion."
 
"No human hits that hard and fast," Ragnar said. The Niflung grunted. "Not even me."
 
The prince swept a hand through the image. Time reversed itself. [Player's name] tumbled back into the room like an acrobat, somersaulting onto his feet. Broken glass coalesced and repaired itself. Cracks shrank, all those little channels receding, drying up into nothingness. The man in black's leg retracted. The kick chambered itself and then dropped away. Their arms moved, and [Player's name]'s fist was in his enemy's hand.
 
"How'd he do that?" Telemachus asked. "He caught the Kasan Fist! That punch..."
 
Memories hung between them, bitter and brutal. None of them needed reminding what that blow could do. The damage it could inflict. What it had taken from them all.
 
The video clip played again.
 
"[Player's name]..." Talia whispered. "Wu?"
 
But there were no replies. Only the sound of shattering glass.
 
***
 
Minister Zhilan Fan's eyes half opened in the darkness. Her mind slithered free from dreams of her schooldays, the laughter of cruel girls, and an incongruous explosion which had blasted it all away. No... The explosion's roar was still there.
 
"Daniel..." She burrowed her head in the pillow. "Turn it off..."
 
"Wuh?"
 
That vast, infernal din continued unabated.
 
"Daniel..." Zhilan drove her heel into her husband's shin. "Turn the TV off!"
 
"Ow!"
 
His limbs thrashed, trying to evade the next kick. A hard, sharp knee thudded into her thigh. Zhilan swore and sat up.
 
"Daniel! I..."
 
None of the holo-screens were on. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of slumbering appliances. Daniel sat up beside her. Their eyes met in the darkness. He threw the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and went to the window. The minister reached for her communicator.
 
Daniel pulled open the drapes. The window's opacity and noise-reduction settings changed. Blackness faded away from the glass, and a burst of bright, searing light flashed around her husband's bulk. Sirens, screams, and shouts formed a hundred separate cacophonies, battling against the monstrous roar. A sharp, piercing bleep made them both flinch.
 
Her deputy's picture blinked above the communicator. Those flabby features and the ridiculous, frozen grin usually made the minister smile. This time she shuddered.
 
"Brandon!" she said.
 
The command made the image collapse. A larger, life-sized head appeared in front of her. This version of Brandon Yu wasn't grinning. His face was pale, and the right half twitched like a chem-fiend's.
 
"Minister! There's... There's been..."
 
"What happened?"
 
"Prime Minister Wu's house! It's..."
 
"It's gone," Daniel said. He turned away from the window, and stared at her from hollow eyes.
 
"Are we under attack?" Zhilan swung her legs off the bed. The blanket grappled with her limbs, wrapped itself around her ankles like a tentacle. She kicked it away. "Brandon!"
 
"We don't know! We-"
 
"Then find out, damn it!" She snatched up a datapad. "Who's on the ground?"
 
"I don't-"
 
She slashed her fingers at him. His image vanished.
 
"Clothes!" she said. "Now!"
 
Daniel tore himself away from the window and dashed for the closet, then yelped when his shin banged against the bed.
 
Zhilan Fan gazed out at Lanjin Cheng. An apocalypse, a mass of smoke and fury, raged behind glowing barriers where the mandarin's home had once stood.
 

''Apocalypse in a Box'''
"Get back!" Eddie Dang's voice erupted from his helmet's vocal amplifier and rebounded along the street. "All of you, clear the area immediately!"
 
It was like blowing at a hurricane. Citizens in various states of undress leaned out of their windows, thronged the streets, and even clambered on the clustered military vehicles for a better look. They were all too busy gawking to pay attention to him, and he could hardly blame them.
 
"Get them back, damn it! Evacuate the district and put up a cordon! Non-essential military personnel too. I don't want anyone here who doesn't need to be here."
 
"Yes, commander!" The replies came in a staggered chorus, echoing around him from outside his helmet and from the audio feeds within.
 
Soldiers barged through doorways and emerged with men, women, and children -- herding them from behind or dragging them out by their arms. A few tried to resist and pull away. Some merely gazed in each direction, bewildered, and stumbled after those in authority. A handful of the commander's people scrambled onto the vehicles and forced the spectators off their perches.
 
"Commander!"
 
A short man in a Plerna Pirates shirt grabbed Dang's arm. The commander glared at him while his helmet scanned the media ID badge fastened to the man's chest. New information joined the clutter flickering, flashing, and blaring around the edges of his visor's display. A third-rate journalist from some off-world news channel. The camera drone bobbing behind him projected the network's meter-wide logo.
 
"Move!" Dang said. "We're clearing the area!"
 
"Commander, do you have a statement?"
 
"Idiot!" Dang grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The reporter yelped. "That's a nuclear blast! If the barrier gives out-"
 
"The viewers have a right to know!"
 
Eddie Dang spun him around and kicked him in the ass. The man ran down the street, screaming. His camera flew after him.
 
"Commander Dang..." A woman's voice sounded inside his helmet, and a fresh picture appeared on his display. "Are you in charge down there?"
 
"Yes, Minister Fan."
 
"Report! Was it a bombing raid?"
 
"No! The prime minister's aides say it was a... a security system."
 
"A nuclear explosion? A nuclear explosion is a security system?"
 
"That's what they're saying! One of Wu's defenses."
 
Eddie Dang helped his comrades usher people down the street while he waited for the torrent of profanities to subside. When it finally did, the minister spoke again.
 
"Is the city in danger?"
 
"The barriers are filtering out the radiation. Our engineers say we're safe, but I'm clearing the district anyway."
 
"What about Wu?"
 
Eddie stared at the largest of the images in the opposite corner of his visor for a long moment before answering. It hovered above a grid of tiny, animated squares.
 
"I have all the nearby security camera footage patched into my helmet. I saw him go in, but he didn't come out."
 
"The prime minister's dead?" Another wave of swear words crashed down on him before he could answer. "What triggered the bomb?"
 
"Maybe an accident, or a fault in the-"
 
"An accident? Wu Tenchu doesn't... didn't allow 'accidents', commander. Find out if anyone else was in that house! I have to... I have to convene the Council of Ministers."
 
Zhilan Fan's picture went grey and collapsed into nothingness. That clip of Wu Tenchu's last public moments collapsed back into the grid. The squares sped up, becoming an incomprehensible blur as his helmet's systems delved deeper into the past and scanned each video. Then they froze, jerking to a sudden, jarring stop. One of them popped out and enlarged itself.
 
Dang frowned and replayed that feed's previous frames. He played them again, and again, and again -- pausing and zooming in on each static image. But what he saw continued to puzzle him. A black splodge... A darting shadow.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Lucy's words whispered in his ear. He shook his head, saved that portion of the video footage, then thrust the grid aside. The techs could check it out later. Eddie dismissed the rest of the information feeds too, and blinked at the real world. The civilians were all gone. The first of the armored vehicles was screeching away, while soldiers poured into the others.
 
"Commander?" a sergeant said.
 
"Go. I'll stay with them." Dang inclined his head towards the engineering team.
 
"But..."
 
"Go."
 
The sergeant nodded and followed the others into a personnel carrier. One by one the vehicles tore down the street, leaving Eddie Dang alone with the huge, throbbing field of orange-white energy, a handful of engineers, and caged Armageddon.
 
"Status?" he asked.
 
The nearest engineer turned round. Pictures of all the team leaders, including those hidden from sight on the other sides of the barrier, popped up before him. Heavy armor hid their faces, but secondary images flickered above -- showing three men and two women.
 
"Stable," one of the women said.
 
The others echoed her one by one.
 
"This technology's cutting-edge," a man said. Dang thought it was the one standing in front of him, but couldn't be certain. "It's employing a-"
 
"I don't care how it works," the commander said, "as long as it does work. Will it hold until the threat's neutralized?"
 
"Most of the field's energy was drained stopping the initial blast, but it should-"
 
The barrier flashed red.
 

'''Machinations of the Mandarin'''

There are people in the galaxy who understand Sian military vessels better than you do. The empire's elite aerospace engineers know them as well as devoted lovers know each other's bodies, and if pressed could probably reconstruct them cabin by cabin on a datapad. Even among rank and file crew members, there are some who spend hours examining schematics because they yearn to prove themselves superior to their fellows; others wallow in them out of passion, staring at plans and diagrams, or glorious three-dimensional projections, with the same bright eyes as a comicbook collector gazing upon his favorite issues.
 
Be that as it may, you understand them better than most. Whether as a pilot, a passenger, or a commander, you've been aboard everything from fighters to cruisers. This vessel is new to you. From the looks of things, it's a non-standard design built to the specifications of a particular engineer or admiral. Such things aren't unusual in the Sian Empire -- where many spacecraft are works of art, lavish celebrations of culture as well as weapons of war. But even if you don't know the ship's secrets, you sense them all the same. As you jog down passage after passage, escorted by blue beams that now seem to pulse faster, empowered by your speed and certainty, you feel the craft's essence amidst the darkness.
 
This ship isn't an inscrutable labyrinth. Not to someone who can imagine the dreaming designs of passionate men and women, perceive the thoughts that lay behind their gleaming eyes.
 
Corridors yield to corridors. Rooms pass unheeded on either side. Blackness slithers around you, but your strength of purpose thwarts its grasp.
 
Double doors part. The ship's bridge is a deep, dark cavern, ill-lit by the same subdued glows as the halls and cabins. Green, blue, gold, and red strips define the edges of the floor with their gentle, flowing streams. They outline empty chairs and blank, powered-down consoles.
 
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Maybe. But not here.
 
You sit in the captain's chair. It's soft, plush. Your body sinks into its cushioned seat and armrests. You let out a quiet sigh. Whatever's going wrong in the universe, at least you're comfortable. Tension flows out of your mind and muscles.
 
The shallow arc of terminals in front of the captain's station starts to wake up at your touch. A deep thrumming noise runs through the casing, the low rumble of bears stirring from hibernation. Your fingertips tingle. You press a button, and the view screen opens at the front of the bridge. Space. Glorious space. The richer, nourishing darkness of creation, the fabric of the universe, of cosmic birth and boundless possibilities. Twinkling stars make a mockery of the bridge's gloom.
 
For several seconds you gaze at the vast void and scattered suns, drawing it all in with one warm, soothing breath. Then your consoles light up. Holo-screens wink into existence. Radiant colors splash over you, bathing you in electric hues. It's time to take control.
 
There's a map, covered with symbols and labels that would mean little to a layperson but are crystal clear to a veteran spacefarer. You're in a quiet corner of Sian space. Drifting far from its inhabited worlds and well-traveled routes. You glance at the other screens, absorbing their data in a single sweep. The craft's non-essential systems are all powered down but its anti-sensory measures are active. Another vessel would have to stray very close to detect its signature. Automated defenses are set to trigger in the event of an attack, primed to blast away while the navigation computer takes you into the heart of the empire and communications channels open to alert its fleets. Communications...
 
You tap a button on the terminal. If Barra and Ali are still aboard the Silver Shadow, you need to contact them and...
 
A red light flashes, accompanied by a disagreeable beep. A face appears on the console.
 
"Wu! What's-"
 
"I assume you're beginning to unleash a barrage of questions," the mandarin says. "No doubt you'd continue this for some moments, before realizing that you're addressing a recorded message. Allow me to save you from the resulting embarrassment."
 
You sigh.
 
"You're aboard the Sima Yi, and will by now have realized that there are no crew members on the ship. This was a necessary precaution. The entire galaxy believes you're on the Zhuge Liang, en route to Sian, and I can't risk the truth escaping. Your enemy cannot learn the truth."
 
"Noir..."
 
"I know you. If you're left to your own devices, you'll seek him out and engage in battle the moment you're well."
 
Warmth rises to your cheeks. There are things even the keen, cunning mandarin doesn't know...
 
"But based on your last encounter, I fear the outcome would be... uncertain. Therefore I've taken matters into my own hands. Noir will be eliminated. After he's disposed of, we may discuss the remainder of the trouble in which you've become embroiled."
 
You exhale. The sense of relief makes your face burn. You've never backed down from a fair fight before, and now you're letting Wu Tenchu annihilate an enemy you couldn't match in combat. Yet you can't muster up any regret. Perhaps when Noir's dead, the two of you can unravel his mystery.
 
"Your ship is here."
 
Two pictures appear on other monitors. There's the Silver Shadow, resting near a sealed launch door, and a cutaway diagram showing the hangar's location.
 
"Miss Haelia and Miss Crethnerith-"
 
"Crethnerith? Oh!" The look on Barra's face is going to be priceless...
 
"...are onboard. They expressed some discontent at this detention, but I had to insist. Rest assured that they've both been compensated for their inconvenience. The hangar's energy field will remain locked to outgoing craft until I authorize otherwise. And no transmissions will penetrate. I shall inform you when this matter is resolved."
 
The communication screen goes black.
 
***
 
"Talia."
 
"Wu!" The gunslinger stared at the screen and waved the others into silence. "You weren't answering my-"
 
"This is an automated message, so your questions or comments are, as usual, superfluous."
 
She glared.
 
"I have no doubt that you're currently on your way to the Zhuge Liang, against my express instructions to the contrary. You must stop immediately."
 
"Like hell I will..."
 
"Ham is aboard a different vessel. Its location has been transmitted to your navigation systems. No one beyond you and your companions may learn of this, but I cannot permit you to reach the Zhuge Liang and interfere with what I've planned."
 
"But why-"
 
The mandarin vanished. Talia rolled her eyes.
 
"Wu..." she said. "It's like cuddling an octopus. You never know what all those tentacles are doing..."
 
"You cuddled an octopus?" Ragnar asked.
 
"Hey, it was him or you. Easy choice..."
 
She looked at the nav screen and adjusted their course.
 
'''Family Reunion'''
"It's about time! I was starting to regret fishing you out of that water."
 
Screaming Barracuda stands in the middle of the Silver Shadow's mess room with her arms crossed. Her cranial fin twitches, and the studs on her leather jacket seem to grow even spikier.
 
"Your prime minister's had us locked in here like a couple of crims!"
 
"Sorry, Crethnerith."
 
She stares at you for a long moment.
 
"If you ever, ever tell anyone that's my name, I'll kill you."
 
"Fair enough. Thanks for saving me."
 
She shrugs.
 
"You were in water, and I'm a Piscarian. Besides, can't leave a fan to drown."
 
You cough, and refrain from stating the obvious.
 
"Where's Ali?" you ask.
 
"In her cabin. Look, can we get out of here now?"
 
"Not yet. Soon. Hopefully. We have to wait till Wu's done... Whatever he's doing."
 
"That wanker..."
 
You wince, and wonder if anyone else in the history of the universe has ever dared to refer to the mandarin as a 'wanker'. And if so, whether they found the body.
 
"What am I supposed to do? I can't even go online, and the telly's not getting any channels!"
 
You glance at the guitar lying on the counter, and know you're going to regret this. But she did save your life...
 
"Why don't you play something?"
 
Her green features light up.
 
"There's this new song I've been working on," she says.
 
"I'll just go see-"
 
"You're back!" Ali says.
 
The moment you hear her voice, your heart sinks. Her sister's scream rings in your ears. But when you turn, the face of the woman leaning in the doorway has no trace of grief or rage.
 
"Has Tenchu found her?" she asks.
 
"Found her? But... I... I couldn't stop Noir. He killed her!"
 
"Oh... You don't know! After he kicked you out of the window, he dragged her off. We saw them on the bar's security cam. He didn't murder Alexa -- he kidnapped her. And Tenchu said he'd get her location off Noir's ship after he took him out. I told him I wanted to help fry the bastard, but he made me stay here with her..."
 
For a second her eyes go unfocussed and she stares off into space.
 
"No, her music sucks!"
 
"Hey!" Barracuda glowers at her.
 
"I should burn that thing..."
 
The Piscarian musician lunges at the counter and grabs her instrument.
 
"Keep your bloody fire off my guitar!"
 
"What about it, Ham?"
 
"No, we might need that guitar."
 
"I mean about Wu! Did you talk to him?"
 
You shake your head.
 
"The coms are still out. I just saw a recorded message. But he-"
 
The floor shudders under your boots. An immense, metallic clatter fills the ship.
 
"We hit something!" Ali says.
 
"No," you say. "The hangar's opening."
 
You move to the nearest console and bring up the external camera feed. Sure enough, the huge metal shield's unveiling the void beyond. And in the distance there's a ship, heading straight for the shimmering energy field, drawing nearer and nearer.
 
"It's Sian," you say.
 
"Wu?" Ali asks.
 
"Maybe..."
 
You bring up the coms interface, but it's no use. Your transmissions are still blocked.
 
"It's coming in too fast!" Barra says.
 
She's right. The vessel's hurtling towards the Sima Yi, much faster than auto-docking systems would ever permit. No pilot ferrying Prime Minister Wu would ever fly that recklessly...
 
Once again, a smile finds its way to your lips. This time it settles there like an old friend.
 
***
 
Everyone's hugging. We don't like hugging.
 
"I know that," Ali murmured.
 
If they try to hug us, we'll burn them.
 
"Yeah."
 
She leaned against the wall. The mess room was far more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago, and it never hurt to have your back against something solid when you found yourself up close with a bunch of armed strangers.
 
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a thugby player," Ham said.
 
"Hey, look who's talking," said the woman with the pistols. "I turn my back and you get kicked through a window."
 
That's Talia Ryx. She's captain of the Sian Dragons.
 
"Wait..." Ali's brow furrowed. "How do you know that but I don't?"
 
One of her matches was on the screen in a bar. You weren't paying attention. We were. People got burned!
 
"In a thugby match?"
 
Some of the fans firebombed each other.
 
"Oh..."
 
She smashed people. She's dangerous.
 
"So are we."
 
Let's burn her, just in case.
 
"No."
 
But-
 
"No. If you want to burn something, burn Barra's guitar before she starts playing."
 
We like her music.
 
"You're just saying that to annoy me."
 
No! Her music burns!
 
"Like an STD..."
 
"Excuse me?" The robot looked around at her.
 
"Nothing," she said.
 
We don't like robots. They don't burn well.
 
"Ragnar," Ham said, "I heard someone wrote a saga about you."
 
"Yeah. Sigurd Spinebreaker's girl."
 
"Is it any good?"
 
"Don't know. I'm waiting for the holo-vid."
 
We bet that lump of muscle and metal can't even read.
 
"So? When was the last time you read anything?"
 
Maybe we would if you ever opened a book.
 
"Books are for losers."
 
Lu Bu looked at her again. He said nothing, but she was almost certain he sighed.
 
He's making fun of us!
 
"He's a robot," she whispered. "They don't make fun of people."
 
What about the comedy bot at the club that one time?
 
"That was a cyborg, and she wasn't funny."
 
She was funny when we set her hair on fire.
 
"Natasha Cybersmash asked me to pass on her regards next time we met," Lu Bu said.
 
"Does she still want to kill me?"
 
"Perhaps. I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet."
 
Why's this small human here? Is he a midget?
 
"He's a kid, idiots."
 
We don't like children. They're annoying, but you won't let us burn them.
 
"I tried to call you at Christmas," the boy said.
 
"Sorry, Tel," Ham said. "I was... tied up with something. Something strange."
 
"We killed a giant mutant turkey."
 
"Not that strange, I guess. But-"
 
Everything's bleeping. Why is everything bleeping? Is something going to blow up? Because that would be cool...
 
Ham's human friends all pulled out their communicators. Lu Bu's eyes flickered. Ham went to the mess hall's main terminal.
 
"Hey," Ali said, "if coms are back up, call Tenchu and..."
 
What's wrong? Why are they all staring like that?
 
Ali didn't know. But their widening eyes and pale faces made tongues of perturbed fire dance on her shoulders.
 
***
 
You stare at the screen, gazing at words that are as incomprehensible as an exotic alien script. Because they can't be true. A nuclear explosion, on Sian?
 
"Wu..." Talia says. "He's..."
 
Another barrage of bleeps rains down on you, scattering your turbulent thoughts. A new message pops up on the screen -- this one encrypted.
 
"It's from Wu!" the gunslinger says.
 
She presses her communicator. You touch the screen. The mandarin's voice rings inside your head, and it's a moment before you realize that it's coming from your aural implant.
 
"My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die..."
 
'''Sian Dragonfly'''
Stop!" Sergeant Ying said.
 
He leveled his blaster. The other soldiers fanned out across the street, flanking him, and did the same -- creating a row of bristling barrels. It reminded him of the pikeman formations they'd studied in military history class back at the academy. The memory swirled around his thoughts, one more surreal thing to add to all the others. A nuclear ash cloud rose over Lanjin Cheng. In the distance colored sprays rained down from swooping aircraft, trying to neutralize the radiation. And a naked alien strode towards him.
 
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
 
He kept coming. Blue fires burned in a reptilian face, the only spots of color in that black, scaly body. Ying didn't know what kind of being he was. His helmet scanner's database confessed ignorance in the corner of his screen. But his HUD drew a crosshair on the alien's head. Yes... He'd never met a humanoid being who couldn't be put down by a blast to the brain.
 
"Fire!"
 
Bolts of emerald energy seared themselves on his vision. A dozen shots burst on the alien's body, drowning him in weapons fire, eradicating his face, his limbs, his torso, his...
 
Two azure fires shone amidst the carnage. Black scales followed it through the incandescent barrage, whole and undamaged.
 
"Grenades!" someone shouted. "Gren-"
 
The alien leapt. His black mass shot through the air, high and fast. Ying didn't even have time to fire before he landed, and the screaming began.
 
***
 
"Air support! We need... Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!"
 
"This is Dragonfly Three-Zero-Nine!" Lieutenant Giu said. "Sergeant Ying, your team asked for air support!"
 
"Yes! Hurry!"
 
"Where's the target? We don't scan any aircraft or ground vehi-"
 
"He's on foot! He's...
 
There was a crash, and something shattered. The line went dead.
 
"Ma'am!" her co-pilot said. "We're getting too close to the smoke!"
 
"I know what I'm doing! Stay on the scanner -- find the target."
 
"They called air support on a single hostile? That's... Oh, Jesus." She crossed herself with darting fingers. "I've got visual on Ying's team. They're down! All of them!"
 
"Find that target, damn it!"
 
The Dragonfly hovered high above the armored corpses strewn across the street, its elegant body floating atop the anti-grav systems' warm magenta glow. Their faint hum was the only sound in the cockpit. Giu watched the billowing cloud on their left, while Teressa Chung directed the cameras and scanners, staring at half a dozen little screens.
 
"There!" Chung said. She touched one of the displays and something flashed on their shared terrain map -- between the wireframe buildings. "Heading south on Ronshung, moving fast."
 
"I see him. Moving to intercept."
 
The Dragonfly sliced through the sky, swift and smooth. Buildings blurred beneath them.
 
"Unidentified humanoid alien." Chung said. She sifted through the blaring data streams.
 
"Armor?"
 
"He's naked!"
 
Teressa threw a close-up onto a larger central screen. Giu snorted. The Dragonfly came to a sudden stop, freezing in mid-air. Below them, the blur resolved into the shapes of structures. The Lucky Lion restaurant's tiered pagoda solidified in front of their angled nose. Only one thing was moving down there now -- the black form sprinting through the street.
 
"I'll blow his scaly balls off!" the lieutenant said.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Where is he?" Giu said. "I've lost visual."
 
Weapons fire raked the ground below. Energy blasts exploded in the street, hurling little pieces of concrete in all directions. The lieutenant stopped shooting. She was sure she'd hit him, but nothing could've survived that fusillade. He must've escaped somewhere...
 
"He's on the pagoda!" Chung said. "I've got missile lock!"
 
"Hold your fire, damn it! We're outside the evac-zone. This neighborhood's in lockdown. There are people in there! Take us down, fast. I'll pick him off."
 
The descent was so soft and instantaneous that the buildings seemed to soar up to meet them. Their nose swiveled round, as though the Dragonfly were sniffing the pagoda for its prey.
 
"There!" Teressa Chung didn't point at a holo-display this time. She pointed at the front window.
 
Giu fired. A thin, precise green beam shot out like a lance. It hit their target square in his chest.
 
"He's not going down!" the lieutenant said. "He's... Look out!"
 
Giu wrestled with the controls, taking them up higher.
 
"He tried to jump!" Chung said. "The crazy-"
 
Two fiery blue slits glared at her through the window. Armored glass shattered. Teressa screamed, but her cries fell far, far away. Giu groped for her sidearm. She tore the weapon out of its holster. A scaly black hand struck her forearm. The pistol dropped from nerveless fingers.
 
Blue flames flashed, setting the world ablaze.
 
"What... What are you?"
 
"My name is Noir, and what I am is beyond your comprehension."
 
Powerful fingers grasped her throat. They pulled her across the cockpit, crushing her breath, propelling her towards broken shards and the chill, whooshing air.
 
Giu's life didn't flash before her eyes as she fell. Nor did she gaze at the ground as it rushed up to break her body. All she saw were those two burning slits.
 
***
 
Zhilan Fan, acting Prime Minister of the Sian Empire, took a deep breath and wished she hadn't told her husband that she wanted to be alone. The table seemed impossibly, inconceivably long, stretching away to infinity. It was even more imposing and intimidating now, after the other ministers had left. The meeting room's emptiness echoed with the magnitude of the role thrust upon her.
 
The door opened. Brandon Yu's head appeared round the gilded dragons which framed the ancient wood in a series of elaborate concentric borders.
 
"They're waiting, Min... Prime Minister Fan!"
 
The title sounded as strange in her ear as it must have done on his tongue.
 
"I'll be there soon."
 
"But-"
 
"Go away!"
 
She looked for something to throw, but the door clicked shut. Zhilan rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. A press conference... What was she supposed to say? That Wu Tenchu had decided to employ a nuclear weapon in lieu of a burglar alarm, and that an unknown assailant had triggered it -- before spreading radioactive matter over the city and slaughtering Sian soldiers?
 
Her personal communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket. Daniel's voice would calm her, and... But it wasn't Daniel Fan's picture on the screen. It was a monstrous blue reptilian face, with glowing cyan eyes. No name or number showed on the display. Some kind of prank. What idiot would joke at a time like this? She opened the channel.
 
"I'm going to trace this call," she said, "and send one of our most brutal-"
 
"No," a woman's voice said. "This call can't be traced. Or recorded. We're more careful than that."
 
"Who is this?"
 
"A friend. Someone who can help make your first press conference as acting prime minister a success."
 
"Politicians don't have friends."
 
"But I do. You saw one of them tonight, on your screens. If you'd seen him in person, one of the other ministers would be sat there instead, and your name would go next to Wu Tenchu's on the memorial."
 
"The alien! Who is he? What-"
 
"I'm sending you the coordinates of a spacecraft. You'll find it's an exact match for the ship your satellites saw leaving Sian after the attack. Send one of your warships and destroy it, then tell your people that the terrorist cell responsible for tonight's atrocities has been eliminated. They'll praise you for your quick, decisive action. Do what I say, and with good political maneuvering you'll be guaranteed to keep your position and remain prime minister. If you don't... Just think of how cunning and careful Wu Tenchu was. How dangerous. And remember that my friend killed him."
 
"I..."
 
The line was dead.
 
***
 
Emera Tresc didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the press conference was over, and it emerged between her lips in one great gust. She allowed herself the luxury of a smile.
 
"You did well." Noir's holographic visage nodded.
 
"Splendidly," Bonderbrand's disembodied head said. "The Sian Empire has a prime minister who knows better than to meddle in our affairs."
 
"Yes..." Azure light flicked behind his ebon mask. "But Wu Tenchu had many allies who will prove more... intractable. We must bring our plans to fruition before they can interfere. And there remains the matter of [Player's name]..."

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Intro

2014-05-15T08:17:26Z

Ham:

"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Long, thin strips of soft azure light frame the corridor at its corners. They skirt the edges of floor and ceiling, pulsing down the long passage, till perspective promises a union that will never come. Blue beams fired at the gathering darkness. Brave. Defiant. Hopeless. Their illumination only makes the gloom deeper and heavier, a billowing cloud that flits between their impotent blasts.
 
"What?"
 
Shadows smother your footsteps. The jumpsuit's cushioned soles rustle instead of clicking or thudding, like the wind whispering through memories of half-forgotten trees.
 
"You heard me." Lucy Prakash leans forward, over the little fire. Tongues of dark and light flicker on her dusky features. The effect is almost demonic, transforming a young, girlish face into something from the abyss. Her eyes bore into Talia's. They're threaded red from sleeplessness and alcohol, ablaze with shocking intensity. "Ghosts."
 
Talia takes a long drink, tilting the broad bottle up between them to break the stare. Firelight tries to penetrate dark glass and darker beer. Her gaze flicks to the right behind its shield, meets yours, and asks the unspoken question. Has Lucy taken something stronger than Novocastrian Brown Ale? If she has, you're all in trouble. The base's commanding officers may turn a blind eye to a group of pilots sneaking off into the woods for a quiet (or sometimes not so quiet) drink, but if one of you comes back with recreational chems in their system...
 
The door on your left shifts and slides open. It's a monstrous noise in the quiet corridor, the hiss of a hydra or a vampire awakened in his crypt. No brightness spills out to warm and comfort you. There's only more low-power lighting, this time silver circles embedded in the ceiling. They illuminate objects without challenging the darkness that drowns them. The bunk hasn't been slept in. There are no personal effects scattered on the table or desk, no clothing or equipment anywhere in the windowless room. The air carries a faint whiff of cleaning agents -- a lifeless, unwelcoming, medicinal smell. That makes five chambers so far, all untenanted.
 
"What about you, [Player's name]?" Her bright, glaring, insistent stare latches onto you now. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
"No."
 
Yes.
 
The realization slips into your brain like an assassin's blade.
 
"I saw one! On the Western Star, when we boarded it."
 
You and Talia share a look. The Western Star was a charnel house, a ship of horrors. Those raiders didn't just kill everyone onboard -- they left a message for whoever found them, and for anyone else who'd ever think about trying to escape instead of handing over creds and cargo. You weren't there, but even the clean, unembellished descriptions in the official report painted a gory picture. Grasping arms stuck to the ceiling. Torsos impaled on spikes, above tangles of decorated entrails. Bloody genitals pinned to the wall like trophies.
 
All Sian personnel who explored that vessel were sent for psych evaluations and counselling sessions.
 
"There was a girl," Lucy says. Fire shines in both her eyes, windows to a burning soul. "A child. She ran away, down a corridor. I called out -- told her I wasn't going to hurt her. But she didn't stop. So I went after her, running through the blood and... and... everything. She ducked into one of the cabins. But when I went in, there was just... what they'd left of her. She'd been dead for weeks."
 
The passage swallows you down its black gullet, towards whatever terrors or revelations fester in its guts. A door opens on your right. It's a recreation room. Triangular arrangements of pool balls rest on green felt, numbers shimmering above their spheres. Cues fill a rack like the weapons of an ancient army. Smaller tables hold ziggurats of magnetized mahjong tiles, each one perfect, waiting to be desecrated and divided beneath the eyes and voices of raucous players. The holo-units are blank and blind. Even the vending machine's stopped blaring its promises of refreshing beverages. Only faint green lights beneath its black bulk show that the refrigeration systems are still functioning. There's the same chemical odor from the cabins, the scent of recent cleaning. Another sterile tomb, empty and unused.
 
"Maybe she was psionic," you say. "Powerful ones can leave a kind of residue behind..."
 
"No! I read her file afterwards. She wasn't psychic, it wasn't a hologram, and I'm not crazy. She was a ghost."
 
Eddie Dang murmurs something about it getting late. Lucy takes the hint and lets him lead her back to base. The rest of you wish her good night, then drink in silence till you're sure her aural implant won't catch your words.
 
"Should we... tell someone?" Susan Liu asks. "Her psych councilor?"
 
"Who flew with her on her last mission?" Talia looks around. The fire describes dancing circles on the base of her bottle.
 
"I did," Jhang Li-Chin says. He lifts his bottle up like he's a schoolboy trying to get the teacher's attention. The black liquid inside sloshes just below the neck. He never was much of a drinker.
 
"How'd she fly?"
 
"Same as always."
 
"Nothing crazy? No shooting at ghosts?"
 
He shakes his head. Talia looks to you, and you both nod.
 
"Then let's keep it to ourselves," you say. "If we tell psych, they'll ground her."
 
For some moments the only noises are the crackling of burning twigs, the rustling leaves, and beer splashing its way from bottles to mouths.
 
"You think she really saw something?" Jhang says.
 
"Maybe," you say. "But there's no such thing as ghosts."
 
There are. Or at least there were.
 
That inescapable thought follows you through the silent gloom. Because you've seen Tor'gyyl, a planet that once held the things man knows, the things he's dreamed, the things he's forgotten, and those in which he no longer believes.
 
Ghosts...
 
With a lost world in your brain and shadows pressing in on all sides, with orange eyes shimmering among your memories and crushing blackness flooding empty passages and lifeless rooms, that word flits around you, wearing a white sheet and rattling chains.
 
You shake your head and smile. The movement is almost alien, and your mouth twitches into an unfamiliar shape. Ghosts don't pilot Sian vessels or leave folded jumpsuits on chairs. And someone brought you aboard this craft from the...
 
The Silver Shadow. What happened to Barracuda and Ali?
 
You quicken your pace, running into the darkness, following the blue beams or leading their assault. You have to find out what's going on...

LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Intro

2014-05-15T08:15:26Z

Ham: Created page with ""Do you believe in ghosts?" Long, thin strips of soft azure light frame the corridor at its corners. They skirt the edges of floor and ceiling, pulsing down the long ..."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
Long, thin strips of soft azure light frame the corridor at its corners. They skirt the edges of floor and ceiling, pulsing down the long passage, till perspective promises a union that will never come. Blue beams fired at the gathering darkness. Brave. Defiant. Hopeless. Their illumination only makes the gloom deeper and heavier, a billowing cloud that flits between their impotent blasts.
 
"What?"
 
Shadows smother your footsteps. The jumpsuit's cushioned soles rustle instead of clicking or thudding, like the wind whispering through memories of half-forgotten trees.
 
"You heard me." Lucy Prakash leans forward, over the little fire. Tongues of dark and light flicker on her dusky features. The effect is almost demonic, transforming a young, girlish face into something from the abyss. Her eyes bore into Talia's. They're threaded red from sleeplessness and alcohol, ablaze with shocking intensity. "Ghosts."
 
Talia takes a long drink, tilting the broad bottle up between them to break the stare. Firelight tries to penetrate dark glass and darker beer. Her gaze flicks to the right behind its shield, meets yours, and asks the unspoken question. Has Lucy taken something stronger than Novocastrian Brown Ale? If she has, you're all in trouble. The base's commanding officers may turn a blind eye to a group of pilots sneaking off into the woods for a quiet (or sometimes not so quiet) drink, but if one of you comes back with recreational chems in their system...
 
The door on your left shifts and slides open. It's a monstrous noise in the quiet corridor, the hiss of a hydra or a vampire awakened in his crypt. No brightness spills out to warm and comfort you. There's only more low-power lighting, this time silver circles embedded in the ceiling. They illuminate objects without challenging the darkness that drowns them. The bunk hasn't been slept in. There are no personal effects scattered on the table or desk, no clothing or equipment anywhere in the windowless room. The air carries a faint whiff of cleaning agents -- a lifeless, unwelcoming, medicinal smell. That makes five chambers so far, all untenanted.
 
"What about you, Ham?" Her bright, glaring, insistent stare latches onto you now. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
 
"No."
 
Yes.
 
The realization slips into your brain like an assassin's blade.
 
"I saw one! On the Western Star, when we boarded it."
 
You and Talia share a look. The Western Star was a charnel house, a ship of horrors. Those raiders didn't just kill everyone onboard -- they left a message for whoever found them, and for anyone else who'd ever think about trying to escape instead of handing over creds and cargo. You weren't there, but even the clean, unembellished descriptions in the official report painted a gory picture. Grasping arms stuck to the ceiling. Torsos impaled on spikes, above tangles of decorated entrails. Bloody genitals pinned to the wall like trophies.
 
All Sian personnel who explored that vessel were sent for psych evaluations and counselling sessions.
 
"There was a girl," Lucy says. Fire shines in both her eyes, windows to a burning soul. "A child. She ran away, down a corridor. I called out -- told her I wasn't going to hurt her. But she didn't stop. So I went after her, running through the blood and... and... everything. She ducked into one of the cabins. But when I went in, there was just... what they'd left of her. She'd been dead for weeks."
 
The passage swallows you down its black gullet, towards whatever terrors or revelations fester in its guts. A door opens on your right. It's a recreation room. Triangular arrangements of pool balls rest on green felt, numbers shimmering above their spheres. Cues fill a rack like the weapons of an ancient army. Smaller tables hold ziggurats of magnetized mahjong tiles, each one perfect, waiting to be desecrated and divided beneath the eyes and voices of raucous players. The holo-units are blank and blind. Even the vending machine's stopped blaring its promises of refreshing beverages. Only faint green lights beneath its black bulk show that the refrigeration systems are still functioning. There's the same chemical odor from the cabins, the scent of recent cleaning. Another sterile tomb, empty and unused.
 
"Maybe she was psionic," you say. "Powerful ones can leave a kind of residue behind..."
 
"No! I read her file afterwards. She wasn't psychic, it wasn't a hologram, and I'm not crazy. She was a ghost."
 
Eddie Dang murmurs something about it getting late. Lucy takes the hint and lets him lead her back to base. The rest of you wish her good night, then drink in silence till you're sure her aural implant won't catch your words.
 
"Should we... tell someone?" Susan Liu asks. "Her psych councilor?"
 
"Who flew with her on her last mission?" Talia looks around. The fire describes dancing circles on the base of her bottle.
 
"I did," Jhang Li-Chin says. He lifts his bottle up like he's a schoolboy trying to get the teacher's attention. The black liquid inside sloshes just below the neck. He never was much of a drinker.
 
"How'd she fly?"
 
"Same as always."
 
"Nothing crazy? No shooting at ghosts?"
 
He shakes his head. Talia looks to you, and you both nod.
 
"Then let's keep it to ourselves," you say. "If we tell psych, they'll ground her."
 
For some moments the only noises are the crackling of burning twigs, the rustling leaves, and beer splashing its way from bottles to mouths.
 
"You think she really saw something?" Jhang says.
 
"Maybe," you say. "But there's no such thing as ghosts."
 
There are. Or at least there were.
 
That inescapable thought follows you through the silent gloom. Because you've seen Tor'gyyl, a planet that once held the things man knows, the things he's dreamed, the things he's forgotten, and those in which he no longer believes.
 
Ghosts...
 
With a lost world in your brain and shadows pressing in on all sides, with orange eyes shimmering among your memories and crushing blackness flooding empty passages and lifeless rooms, that word flits around you, wearing a white sheet and rattling chains.
 
You shake your head and smile. The movement is almost alien, and your mouth twitches into an unfamiliar shape. Ghosts don't pilot Sian vessels or leave folded jumpsuits on chairs. And someone brought you aboard this craft from the...
 
The Silver Shadow. What happened to Barracuda and Ali?
 
You quicken your pace, running into the darkness, following the blue beams or leading their assault. You have to find out what's going on...

LotS/The Story

2014-05-15T08:10:56Z

Ham:

'''The Milky Way'''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Princess_Illaria's_Escape|Princess Illaria's Escape]] (Sian Space) ''The Centurian Collective hunts for Princess Illaria, the last hope of the Sian Empire. Only her champion can save her now.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Legions_of_Steel|Legions of Steel]] (Talos Space) ''Free from the clutches of the Centurians, the Princess and her companions seek aid from TALOS and its robot armies.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Assault on the Zenith|Assault on the Zenith]] (Occupied Sian Space) ''It's time to strike back at the Centurians...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Search for the Princess|The Search for the Princess]] ''The Princess had disappeared, whisked away from the Zenith in a flash of light. But she's out there somewhere, and you'll find her even if you have to tear the galaxy apart.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Politics of War|Politics of War]] (Sol) ''Perhaps it's fitting that the fate of human space might be decided upon Earth, mankind's ancient homeworld.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Aphrodisian Anabasis|Aphrodisian Anabasis]] ''War makes strange bedfellows. And so the Princess must journey to Cythera, the Contella vice-world, to secure that faction's aid against Centurians.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Right Tools|The Right Tools]] ''A mission as ambitious as the one you're planning can only succeed if you have the proper assets at the ready.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/A Masterful Stratagem|A Masterful Stratagem]] ''The Centurians are untouchable while the Emperor is in their grasp. It's time to rectify that...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Scaean_Gates|Scean Gates]] ''She's gone. Now there's nothing left but vengeance.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Because I'm The Wanderer|Because I'm The Wanderer]] ''The galaxy is so vast. So much space to lose yourself in...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Talia's Team|Talia's Team]] ''If she fumbles, her first match might be her last.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Prince & The Pixels|The Prince & The Pixels]] ''Videogames are dangerous. But so's Telemachus.
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Saga of Drunken Ragnar|The Saga of Drunken Ragnar]] ''All good stories start with a drink...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Lu Bu's Halloween|Lu Bu's Halloween]] ''Halloween's for killing and candy. Lu Bu can't eat candy...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays|A. Puny Human Birthdays]] ''"Wretched stink-beast! Tell us about these 'birthdays' your pathetic species celebrates, or we shall destroy you with our superior Rylattu technology!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays II|A2. Puny Human Birthdays II]] (Twice as puny, and full of goo) ''"Puny human! Continue the birthday tales or suffer immediate disintegration!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Christmas Chaos|Christmas Chaos]] ''"Peace on Earth... But they never said anything about the rest of the galaxy."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Music of the Spheres|Music of the Spheres]] ''"When she sings to the stars, the cosmos becomes her chorus."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)|Playing with Fire (Part 1)]] ''"They've been burning for a very long time..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)|Playing with Fire (Part 2)]] ''"You dreamed of fire... But who will burn?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Between Heaven and Hell|Between Heaven and Hell]] ''"Heaven totters on the brink of war, and in the shadows azure eyes blaze."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void|A3. Tales of The Void]] ''"The Dark Delight's passengers have stories to share, but what secrets do they hide?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void 2|A4. Tales of The Void 2]] ''"Stories are powerful indeed. At the Tyraness' court they hold the power of life and death..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Days of Wu|Days of Wu]] ''"One last game of Weiqi, while the mandarin does what must be done."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Number of the Beast|Number of the Beast]] ''"Wu Tenchu's machinations live on..."
[[LotS/La_Historia|Spanish translation]] (Work in progress).

[[LotS/La Storia|Italian translation]] (Work in progress).

LotS/The Story/Number of The Beast

2014-05-15T08:10:20Z

Ham: Created page with "<tabber> "Intro"= {{:LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Intro}} |-| "Falls the Shadow"= {{:LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow}} |-| "Last Will and Testam..."

<tabber>
"Intro"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Intro}}
|-|
"Falls the Shadow"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Falls the Shadow}}
|-|
"Last Will and Testamant"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Number of the Beast/Last Will and Testamant}}
</tabber>

LotS/The Story

2014-05-15T08:05:50Z

Ham:

'''The Milky Way'''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Princess_Illaria's_Escape|Princess Illaria's Escape]] (Sian Space) ''The Centurian Collective hunts for Princess Illaria, the last hope of the Sian Empire. Only her champion can save her now.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Legions_of_Steel|Legions of Steel]] (Talos Space) ''Free from the clutches of the Centurians, the Princess and her companions seek aid from TALOS and its robot armies.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Assault on the Zenith|Assault on the Zenith]] (Occupied Sian Space) ''It's time to strike back at the Centurians...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Search for the Princess|The Search for the Princess]] ''The Princess had disappeared, whisked away from the Zenith in a flash of light. But she's out there somewhere, and you'll find her even if you have to tear the galaxy apart.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Politics of War|Politics of War]] (Sol) ''Perhaps it's fitting that the fate of human space might be decided upon Earth, mankind's ancient homeworld.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Aphrodisian Anabasis|Aphrodisian Anabasis]] ''War makes strange bedfellows. And so the Princess must journey to Cythera, the Contella vice-world, to secure that faction's aid against Centurians.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Right Tools|The Right Tools]] ''A mission as ambitious as the one you're planning can only succeed if you have the proper assets at the ready.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/A Masterful Stratagem|A Masterful Stratagem]] ''The Centurians are untouchable while the Emperor is in their grasp. It's time to rectify that...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Scaean_Gates|Scean Gates]] ''She's gone. Now there's nothing left but vengeance.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Because I'm The Wanderer|Because I'm The Wanderer]] ''The galaxy is so vast. So much space to lose yourself in...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Talia's Team|Talia's Team]] ''If she fumbles, her first match might be her last.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Prince & The Pixels|The Prince & The Pixels]] ''Videogames are dangerous. But so's Telemachus.
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Saga of Drunken Ragnar|The Saga of Drunken Ragnar]] ''All good stories start with a drink...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Lu Bu's Halloween|Lu Bu's Halloween]] ''Halloween's for killing and candy. Lu Bu can't eat candy...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays|A. Puny Human Birthdays]] ''"Wretched stink-beast! Tell us about these 'birthdays' your pathetic species celebrates, or we shall destroy you with our superior Rylattu technology!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays II|A2. Puny Human Birthdays II]] (Twice as puny, and full of goo) ''"Puny human! Continue the birthday tales or suffer immediate disintegration!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Christmas Chaos|Christmas Chaos]] ''"Peace on Earth... But they never said anything about the rest of the galaxy."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Music of the Spheres|Music of the Spheres]] ''"When she sings to the stars, the cosmos becomes her chorus."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)|Playing with Fire (Part 1)]] ''"They've been burning for a very long time..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)|Playing with Fire (Part 2)]] ''"You dreamed of fire... But who will burn?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Between Heaven and Hell|Between Heaven and Hell]] ''"Heaven totters on the brink of war, and in the shadows azure eyes blaze."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void|A3. Tales of The Void]] ''"The Dark Delight's passengers have stories to share, but what secrets do they hide?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void 2|A4. Tales of The Void 2]] ''"Stories are powerful indeed. At the Tyraness' court they hold the power of life and death..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Days of Wu|Days of Wu]] ''"One last game of Weiqi, while the mandarin does what must be done."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Number of The Beast|Number of The Beast]] ''"Wu Tenchu's machinations live on..."
[[LotS/La_Historia|Spanish translation]] (Work in progress).

[[LotS/La Storia|Italian translation]] (Work in progress).

LotS/missions/Days of Wu

2014-03-13T06:47:11Z

Ham:

[[File:LotS_Quest_Zone_24.jpg]]
{{LotS/ZoneNotes
|title=Zone Unlock
|notes=Defeat {{LotS/Mission2|Between_Heaven_and_Hell|Between Heaven and Hell}} on Normal difficulty. ??
}}

{{Lots/MissionDrops
|collectable=Bowl of Weiqi Stones
|item1=Continuum Transfunctioner (Large Plus)
|item2=Outland Crystal
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Wu Tenchu's Schooldays
|image=z24 a1 q1
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=1620 - 1980
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=100
|legendaryexp=166
|legendarycredits=2160 - 2640
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=150
|nightmareexp=249
|nightmarecredits=3240 - 3960
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Reading The Stones
|image=z24 a1 q2
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=1620 - 1980
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=100
|legendaryexp=166
|legendarycredits=2160 - 2640
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=150
|nightmareexp=249
|nightmarecredits=3240 - 3960
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Emperors And Assassins
|image=z24 a1 q3
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=1620 - 1980
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=100
|legendaryexp=166
|legendarycredits=2160 - 2640
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=150
|nightmareexp=249
|nightmarecredits=3240 - 3960
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Fade to Black
|image=z24 a1 q4
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=1620 - 1980
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=100
|legendaryexp=166
|legendarycredits=2160 - 2640
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=150
|nightmareexp=249
|nightmarecredits=3240 - 3960
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/missionboss
|name=The Weiqi Game
|image=Boss z24 a1
|normalenergy=150
|normalexp=330
|normalcredits=6480 - 7920
|normalhp=
|hardenergy=225
|hardexp=495
|hardcredits=9720 - 11880
|hardhp=
|legendaryenergy=300
|legendaryexp=660
|legendarycredits=12960 - 15840
|legendaryhp=
|nightmareenergy=450
|nightmareexp=990
|nightmarecredits=19440 - 23760
|nightmarehp=
|loot={{LotS/RaidDataLink|Weiqi Game}} - Normal 100%
}}

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Emperors and Assassins

2014-03-13T04:29:44Z

Ham:

My successes are legion, but they will never wash away my failures. Nor should they. Instead let them be a lesson to all who come after me. Even the great Wu Tenchu wasn't infallible.
 
When <Player's name> fired on the Centurian ship, claiming he/she was protecting the Child of Heaven, I understood the Collective's scheme. I prepared legal briefs and defenses which I believed would vanquish their case before the UHW. Each one was fashioned with the same meticulous care a jeweler might give to his most exquisite creations of gold and diamond. I smiled when I anticipated the inevitable result: victory for the Sian Empire, and the thwarting of the Centurian Collective. Such hubris... Their attack surprised us all. Our proud empire, conquered in the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. To this day I've wondered what signs I missed. Was the alliance between the Centurians and the Besalaad nestled away in the intelligence reports, discernible to one who thought to gather the motes and understood their pattern?
 
I was beyond the Collective's reach when the invasion came. Perhaps if I'd been on Sian, able to join the resistance... Would things have been different? Could the Emperor have evaded capture with me at his side? A million questions torment me.
 
***
 
"They're coming!" the masked woman whispered.
 
She raised her blaster. Around her, five others did the same. The same featureless black fabric hid all their faces, glimmering with labyrinthine networks of circuitry which rendered them invisible to electronic detection methods.
 
The door opened.
 
"Death to the Emp-"
 
The woman's battle cry ended with a gunshot that penetrated her mask and scattered her brains across the wall. Four more shots added to the grim decor, leaving a single masked man standing above the corpses.
 
"The room is clear," he said. Wu Tenchu pulled off his mask.
 
"And the others?" the man in the doorway asked.
 
"Their bodies are in a disused room on the third floor."
 
The bodyguard bowed and stepped back into the passage. A man in ornate gold and emerald robes entered in his wake.
 
"Your Majesty." The assassin bowed.
 
"Wu?"
 
A faint shimmer glistened across the Emperor's holographic face. Wu Tenchu suppressed a smile. He would have done the same thing in his superiors' place, but he was glad to have rendered their precautions unnecessary.
 
"I know you've followed my career, but I fear the reports you read were... inadequate. The term 'civil servant' excuses a multitude of sins."
 
The Emperor grinned.
 
"I knew you wouldn't end up behind a desk." He waved at the door. It slid closed. "Do you still play weiqi?"
 
"Of course."
 
The Emperor made another gesture. A holographic board appeared on a nearby table. Before the game was over, Wu Tenchu had accepted a position as an imperial advisor.
 
***
 
I spoke with him. Aboard Chief Assembler Wilex's cruiser, when <Player's name> and the others brought him back from Sian. I stared into my friend's eyes and felt his joy wash over me. His words still ring in my mind.
 
"This was greater than any strategy you've ever used on the weiqi board," he said.
 
We laughed, while the psionic trigger lay buried deep in his brain -- ready to destroy us both. My greatest defeat. The darkest day of the Sian Empire. I failed you, my friend. You and the daughter whose protection was my sworn duty.
 
But there was a reckoning.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Wu Tenchu's Schooldays

2014-03-13T04:18:12Z

Ham:

Wu!"
 
"Yes?"
 
The teacher loomed over the boy's desk, clasping its edges with big, thick hands. His forearms -- each a meaty club, like a leg of lamb -- twitched as his fingers whitened. Some of Wu's classmates claimed Mr. Anderson was a former thugby player. According to playground rumor, that sport banished him because he tore a fan's spine out. The boy liked that story. It showed a laudable cynicism for the education system.
 
"This is not the assigned reading!"
 
He tapped the upper edge of Wu's datapad. The screen displayed long paragraphs of text, in lieu of the short stanzas which adorned those of his classmates.
 
"The rhyme was ill-conceived." The boy glanced up into the man's eyes. His face was impassive. "The poet wields dactyls as weapons of blunt force trauma, and I reject her contention that all people are born equal. As a child who's derived superior intellectual capabilities from his genetic makeup, I find the notion trite and offensive."
 
Mr. Anderson blinked at the small child. Perhaps his colleagues had prepared him for this most unusual pupil, but it was quite different to actually hear such discourse coming from a five-year-old's mouth. He turned the datapad round and tapped the screen. A heading appeared in bold text.
 
"Assassination reports?"
 
"They were declassified yesterday. I'm not violating any imperial laws."
 
The other children were watching. Mr. Anderson swept the room with a glare, and their heads dropped back over their work. He grunted and turned to Wu Tenchu again.
 
"What's this?" The teacher's fingertip pressed down on a small thumbnail image in the corner of the page.
 
A diagram expanded until it filled the screen. It was a strange combination of poorly drawn stick-figures and precise lines and trajectories, marked with mathematical symbols.
 
"The assassin's method was inefficient," Wu said, "so I constructed a better one."
 
"Go see the headmaster."
 
"Very well."
 
***
 
A dozen scans sweep the room, scouring both of us. Their displays are subtle. No holographic screens blare their findings. But the artworks behind Noir shift in accordance with their discoveries. There's a vase that would have defied any collector to say it wasn't conceived on Earth during China's Ming Dynasty. Now its painted figures move, revealing the artful pretense. My own invention, created for practicality and ego. A little test of genius. The colors and patterns of a courtier's robes confirm my identity and humanity. This comes as little surprise, though I welcome the news that I haven't been replaced by an android without my knowledge. The man's hat changes hue when the psionic examination is complete. My mind is unclouded, beyond the grasp of any psychic intrusion or conditioning. A later addition to the technology -- this one an admission of past failure.
 
The figure on the next vase is far more curious. A noblewoman stands in a lavish garden, her beautiful face and gorgeous gown wrought from simple strokes of blue coloring on the crisp white background. Tiny birds flicker around her. Perspective turns their flock into a swarm of insects, an azure cloud which seeps into her sumptuous garments until bird and fabric are indistinguishable. It takes me a split-second to identify this permutation from countless others. The scans have disclosed nanobots woven into Noir's clothing, miniscule machines that mend and bolster his garb. The technology is advanced but not beyond the reach of Sian science. What intrigues me is that the woman's skin is unblemished. Noir's technology is worn, not embedded. No cybernetic systems pulse inside his flesh and grant him his strength, speed, or toughness.
 
The woman wears five bracelets on her left arm. My opponent is, at least in part, human. But her right arm is angled downwards, thwarted. The alien tissues defy examination. Interesting... Most interesting... Very few known species can mate with humans and produce offspring. Of these, none resemble the being I saw on my screens when gunfire stripped away his clothes.
 
A black stone clicks on the board. I watch Noir with redoubled scrutiny. His eyes meet mine, perhaps in challenge, or else curiosity of his own.
 
***
 
"I want your lunch!"
 
Kwai's friends encircled Wu Tenchu, cutting off all avenues of escape. Wu assessed them in his peripheral vision. Three were flabby, two tall but lanky. None were strong in his estimation. As an intellectual exercise he calculated the force he would need to break their knees or ribs, and decided that he had nothing to fear from them as long as he struck fast and hard. But Kwai himself was another matter. The boy towered above Wu. His bulging muscles and acne-slathered face told of botched hormone therapies.
 
"Your lunch!" he repeated.
 
Wu glanced down at his lunchbox as though becoming aware of it for the first time.
 
"My mother isn't a good cook," he said. "You would find this meal unpalatable."
 
Kwai snorted. A yellow-green blob shot from his left nostril, trailing a rope of snot. It dangled in front of his chin, swaying back and forth, a disgusting but almost hypnotic pendulum.
 
"Give me it!"
 
Other children were gathering from across the playground, massing a safe distance beyond the ring of bullies. Their faces bobbed beside the flabby and gangly bodies like an audience glimpsed between the curtains in the school theatre. Some of them grinned, filled with the glee of former victims now made spectators at another's suffering. Others looked around for a teacher. Those who knew Wu best wore quizzical expressions, and wondered what would come of this. Kwai had been stealing lunches ever since he returned from his dubious medical treatments. During the lunch hour he crammed his mouth full of every comestible he could buy from the canteen or snatch from smaller children, consuming a significant portion of his own bodyweight. But he hadn't stolen from Wu Tenchu before -- and many looked on with bated breath to see what would happen.
 
"Here." Wu handed him the little blue lunchbox.
 
Children gasped at his surrender. Some sneered. A few seemed disappointed. Kwai looked around, brow furrowed as his hormone-addled brain tried to comprehend their emotions. In the end he shrugged and brandished his prize above his head. Then he brought it back down and opened it.
 
His eyes widened. His mouth fell open.
 
"It's... It's..."
 
One of his burly comrades came over to his side and stared into the container. He yelped.
 
"It's a bomb!"
 
There were screams. Some of the onlookers ran across the playground, shrieking, wailing, or even laughing. Others surged forward -- disbelief suppressing caution.
 
"Throw it away!" Kwai's friend said. "Throw it away!"
 
Wu Tenchu whistled. Steel bands shot out of the lunchbox with a series of neat metallic clinks. They wrapped around Kwai's fingers, holding them fast against either side of the box, and slid into newly revealed recesses. Kwai shook his arms. But the bonds held firm. He stared at his friend, mouth agape, eyes beseeching. The other child fled -- barging his way through a pack of smaller children, scattering them like skittles.
 
"Wu!" The snot pendulum swung this way and that. "Wu!"
 
"I recommend that everyone withdraw to a safe distance," Wu Tenchu said. "Now."
 
The children looked at him, looked at Kwai, and dispersed. Their exodus swept through the playground.
 
"Wu!" Kwai stared into the lunchbox, where the digital clock's red numerals continued to count down. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"
 
"Turn what off?"
 
"The bomb! Turn the bomb off!"
 
"There's no bomb."
 
Kwai looked up at him. The snot dangled motionless, as though it too were stunned. He stared back down at the clock, left eyelid twitching, acne-covered face caught between horror and relief.
 
The countdown reached zero.
 
The 'bomb' flew from the box, a slab of metal launched by a powerful spring. There was a crunch and a splat. Wu Tenchu winced. It appeared that he'd miscalculated its strength.
 
Kwai fell onto his knees and bawled. Crimson gushed from his nose. A haphazard assortment of smashed and disarrayed teeth hung loose in his bloody maw. The strand of snot still dangled there, slathered in red.
 
***
 
A man with two natures. Two origins? Two voices. Yes... The human and the bestial. An enigma in black, one who defies the keenest scanners and databases the Sian Empire has to offer. What are you, Noir?
 
I could give a signal and alert troops stationed nearby. Dozens. Hundreds. They'd storm my home and engage him. But that would be foolish. I've seen what he's capable of, and I'd only be calling them here to share my tomb. Even <Player's name> couldn't stop him. Nor could the weapons that lined my trap. It will take greater countermeasures, and the sacrificing of one stone for another.
 
***
 
"Sit down," the headmaster said.
 
The boy closed the office door and walked to the chair in front of the desk. The headmaster's glare followed him as he went. Wu sat down and reached towards the bowl of candy.
 
"No!" Doctor Shinju's fingers clamped around his wrist. "Those aren't for you."
 
Wu shrugged his shoulders and rotated his hand against the headmaster's thumb, freeing it from the man's grasp.
 
"Wu, we've been more than patient with you."
 
"Have you, sir?"
 
"We've tolerated your constant insolence, disobedience, and disruptions-"
 
"A competent headmaster wouldn't have allowed a student to flout his authority like that."
 
"Wu!" Shinju's face reddened, till his vulture-like proboscis resembled a strawberry flavored lollipop. "The superintendent said we had to make allowances for a child of your intelligence... But this is too much! Maiming another pupil!"
 
"He tried to steal from me. Me. It was... unwise."
 
"This afternoon you'll be flogged in front of the entire school, then expelled."
 
"Oh? It's a shame you won't be there to witness my chastisement."
 
"What?"
 
"Because by then you'll have been arrested-"
 
"Wu! How dare you!"
 
"...for embezzlement."
 
Doctor Shinju's face froze.
 
"I... I don't know what you're..."
 
"Your quickening heartbeat says otherwise. As does the blood draining from your cheeks."
 
"I..." The headmaster collapsed back into his chair, deflated. "But..."
 
"If you wish to steal school funds to pay your gambling debts, that's no concern of mine. I've examined the programs you've annexed resources from, and found them to be lacking in intellectual value. But I will not allow you to discipline me like a common miscreant."
 
"Kwai's parents..."
 
"Should remove their son from school until his medical issues have been properly addressed."
 
"I... I..."
 
"I shall take your repetition of the first-person singular pronoun as acquiescence."
 
Wu Tenchu picked up the candy bowl, rose from his chair, and left the room. Three weeks later, the man in ornate robes came to offer him a place at the academy.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/The Weiqi Game

2014-03-13T03:22:32Z

Ham: Created page with "My work is done. The words are spoken and secrets shared. I shouldn't delay any longer, and wallow in remembrances of a life that must now come to a close. It's time to end th..."

My work is done. The words are spoken and secrets shared. I shouldn't delay any longer, and wallow in remembrances of a life that must now come to a close. It's time to end the game.
 
Noir places his stone. I place mine.
 
*click* *click* *click* *click*
 
Before, I was content to stave off his attacks and take his measure. Was I relieved or disappointed to learn that he wasn't my equal? It's of no consequence.
 
White and black stones fall like cherry blossom petals. They paint pictures on the wood, blooming and battling.
 
I press the attack.
 
-------------------------------------

 
"Splendid," I say. "I was hoping it would prove so."
 
"A fine victory," Noir says, "but your meaning eludes me."
 
"Had your skill been as great in strategy as in battle, I would have been most perturbed. It's a relief that it isn't so."
 
Yes... This epiphany comes along with the pleasure and pride of victory. Noir, whatever enigmatic power he represents, isn't invincible. I have vanquished him. What more could a man ask for in his final moments?
 
"We have tested ourselves at your game. Now we shall do the same in mine. And I do not believe the results will be so pleasing to you. But I shall relish discovering the extent of your abilities."
 
We stand and move into the middle of the floor. Part of me, the deep hubris at the core of my being, urges me to try him in battle. My bones and muscles aren't so old. My reflexes are still sharp, as the Besalaad warrior discovered on Jerusalem Maior...
 
"I shall destroy <Player's name>. You have merely purchased him/her time."
 
"Perhaps... But only if you leave here alive."
 
"You are that confident in your assassin's tricks?"
 
I put folly aside, and abandon the delusions of a distant part of me that wishes to cling to life and imagines it could be so. <Player's name> is a superb fighter. And even he/she couldn't match Noir.
 
"No. In my politician's tricks."
 
I whistle. The decision is made. Outside the house, energy barriers will flicker into being. The most powerful shields Sian technology can muster. Strong enough to contain the nuclear explosion that will atomize my home and the two of us.
 
Metal seals slide into place. There will be no escape.
 
My name is Wu Tenchu, and tonight I'll play weiqi with the Emperor.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Fade to Black

2014-03-13T03:19:22Z

Ham: Created page with "Entire worlds became their funeral pyre. Billions of lives extinguished in a single act of retribution, born of love as well as hate. The galaxy will never forget what became ..."

Entire worlds became their funeral pyre. Billions of lives extinguished in a single act of retribution, born of love as well as hate. The galaxy will never forget what became of the Centurian Collective. Their doom is etched into the bones and ashes of history.
 
Many of my advisors urged me to condemn <Player's name>. My allies asked me why I sided with him, when it would have been so very easy to denounce him and express horror alongside Francis Dupont and his ilk. Instead I sprang to his defense and did whatever I could to shift the galaxy's opinion in his favor. I sowed human space with propaganda that endorsed the Centurian genocide.
 
The reason is simple. Had I been in his position, cast in the role of warrior and commander instead of shackled by a politician's duties, I would have done far, far worse.
 
And my dear friend's daughter cared for him/her. Illaria's smile shone in my thoughts when I acted on <Player's name>'s behalf. I couldn't fail her a second time. It was my duty to her that made me lure Noir into the trap that should have destroyed him. My duty to her that brought him into my home, and sealed my fate. The Sian Empire will lose its prime minister and experience turmoil. But I had a debt to repay, and feel no regret.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Emperors and Assassins

2014-03-13T03:16:16Z

Ham: Created page with "My successes are legion, but they will never wash away my failures. Nor should they. Instead let them be a lesson to all who come after me. Even the great Wu Tenchu wasn't inf..."

My successes are legion, but they will never wash away my failures. Nor should they. Instead let them be a lesson to all who come after me. Even the great Wu Tenchu wasn't infallible.
 
When <Player's name> fired on the Centurian ship, claiming he/she was protecting the Child of Heaven, I understood the Collective's scheme. I prepared legal briefs and defenses which I believed would vanquish their case before the UHW. Each one was fashioned with the same meticulous care a jeweler might give to his most exquisite creations of gold and diamond. I smiled when I anticipated the inevitable result: victory for the Sian Empire, and the thwarting of the Centurian Collective. Such hubris... Their attack surprised us all. Our proud empire, conquered in the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. To this day I've wondered what signs I missed. Was the alliance between the Centurians and the Besalaad nestled away in the intelligence reports, discernible to one who thought to gather the motes and understood their pattern?
 
I was beyond the Collective's reach when the invasion came. Perhaps if I'd been on Sian, able to join the resistance... Would things have been different? Could the Emperor have evaded capture with me at his side? A million questions torment me.
 
***
 
"They're coming!" the masked woman whispered.
 
She raised her blaster. Around her, five others did the same. The same featureless black fabric hid all their faces, glimmering with labyrinthine networks of circuitry which rendered them invisible to electronic detection methods.
 
The door opened.
 
"Death to the Emp-"
 
The woman's battle cry ended with a gunshot that penetrated her mask and scattered her brains across the wall. Four more shots added to the grim decor, leaving a single masked man standing above the corpses.
 
"The room is clear," he said. Wu Tenchu pulled off his mask.
 
"And the others?" the man in the doorway asked.
 
"Their bodies are in a disused room on the third floor."
 
The bodyguard bowed and stepped back into the passage. A man in ornate gold and emerald robes entered in his wake.
 
"Your Majesty." The assassin bowed.
 
"Wu?"
 
A faint shimmer glistened across the Emperor's holographic face. Wu Tenchu suppressed a smile. He would have done the same thing in his superiors' place, but he was glad to have rendered their precautions unnecessary.
 
"I know you've followed my career, but I fear the reports you read were... inadequate. The term 'civil servant' excuses a multitude of sins."
 
The Emperor grinned.
 
"I knew you wouldn't end up behind a desk." He waved at the door. It slid closed. "Do you still play weiqi?"
 
"Of course."
 
The Emperor made another gesture. A holographic board appeared on a nearby table. Before the game was over, Wu Tenchu had accepted a position as an imperial advisor.
 
***
 
I spoke with him. Aboard Chief Assembler Wilex's cruiser, when Ham and the others brought him back from Sian. I stared into my friend's eyes and felt his joy wash over me. His words still ring in my mind.
 
"This was greater than any strategy you've ever used on the weiqi board," he said.
 
We laughed, while the psionic trigger lay buried deep in his brain -- ready to destroy us both. My greatest defeat. The darkest day of the Sian Empire. I failed you, my friend. You and the daughter whose protection was my sworn duty.
 
But there was a reckoning.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Reading The Stones

2014-03-13T03:13:23Z

Ham:

Ah, such self-indulgence. Autobiography is the greatest vanity of all. Those operatives and friends who hear my words will believe I was overtaken with sentiment in my final moments, lost in childhood memories. Some of them may be surprised that I was ever a boy -- that I didn't emerge from a tank of chemicals, already clad in a mandarin's robes and arrogance.
 
Friends... Perhaps I flatter myself. Assassins have few friends, and politicians fewer. Do I seem as dangerous and inscrutable to others as Noir seems to me? You will have to be the judge of that.
 
***
 
Wu Tenchu had never been in space before, so he took a moment to glance out of the window as the ship left the planet's atmosphere. The sight held his interest for a moment or two. But he'd walked among the stars countless times in his computerized simulations, just as he'd trodden ancient Chinese battlefields and a myriad distant worlds. Reality was a poor simulacrum. Hence he turned his attention to the lounge's other occupants instead.
 
The chamber was spacious, like a mansion's living room. The handful of children dispersed through it only served to emphasize its vastness. A girl sat cross-legged on a sofa big enough to hold a sports steam. Three datapads hovered around her head, each pulsing with the soft purple glow of their anti-gravity systems. She read from two whilst making notes on the third. A Snuuth boy -- the sole non-human Wu had seen aboard the ship -- lay on the opposite side of the room, sprawled on his back. His snores made his prodigious belly rumble. Empty dishes rested around him like conquered nations. A boy and girl were at the videogame terminals. The former sat in a cockpit, exchanging fire with rival ships that flashed across a holographic screen. The latter waved her arms in the air, while her jian-wielding doppelganger decapitated enemy warriors.
 
The last child sat at a low table. His datapad rested on its surface, projecting a weiqi game into the air above. The boy's brow was creased, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. Wu followed the game for a few moments and decided that the artificial adversary would score a narrow victory. As he was about to look away, the boy shot him a quick glance. Their eyes only met for the briefest instant before the weiqi player looked away again -- as though startled that he'd been observed. There was something in his eyes that intrigued Wu Tenchu, but he couldn't decide what.
 
No more passengers had boarded the vessel before it took off. Wu assumed other children had been sent on different ships -- that dividing the academy's intake between multiple spacecraft was a security precaution. Why risk the planet's best and brightest students aboard a single craft, where a mechanical failure or attack could eliminate them all at once? Had he been an enemy of the empire, he would have relished such an opportunity.
 
Wu leaned back in his chair, gazed out of the window, and mentally sketched out a dozen stratagems to destroy the ship, as well as two dozen ways to counteract them.
 
***
 
The galaxy holds more secrets than stars. Millions of spies and agents seek them out, because knowledge is the most valuable thing in the universe. All advancements and victories begin with knowledge in the minds of those men and women responsible for bringing them to pass. Experimental technologies, battle plans, diplomatic meetings, the forging of alliances in the void... To know these things before others is to have an advantage in matters of both war and peace.
 
Even my magnificent mind can't number all the fragments of information which have passed before my eyes in my time as an assassin, an advisor, a prime minister. The vast bulk of them reside in repositories which may startle my successors with their scope and magnitude. But others, the latest acquisitions, lurk within my brain and the encrypted terminals Noir couldn't access. It's time to share them.
 
A little twitch of the fingers. The stroking of my moustache. The way I hold the weiqi stone as I pretend to scrutinize the board (in truth, I had this move planned several minutes ago). All these things are messages that bring my will to fruition and send knowledge into the hands I desire to possess them. Some will be of little immediate consequence: an ambassador's drug of choice; the name of a president's secret lover; the identities of a womanizing hero's illegitimate children. But all things can become tools or weapons when the moment arises.
 
Zhao Chen, She, Bao, Shayu, and my other agents will each find certain things meant for their eyes and action. Missions assigned to them by a man who'll be dead before they read the first word. All will be carried out, regardless of who replaces me. Not because of personal loyalties -- I've taught them better than that. But because they trust my judgment, and know these deeds will serve the empire even if they cannot yet understand how.
 
A few veins of information cause me a pang. These are the mysteries death will prevent me from unraveling, and must be bequeathed to others unsolved. I'll never know what Kulnar-Xex ships were doing at the edge of Besalaad space, nor how an ancient sword came to be lodged in the rock of a Centurian base. I shan't learn why a bizarre religious group is pursuing <Player's name>, or the truth behind the weapon hidden beneath the Grand Temple on Jerusalem Maior (though I have my suspicions, fanciful as they may seem). <Player's name>... If he has enemies such as Noir, he may have need of unfathomable weapons...
 
***
 
"Wu Tenchu and Jason Yun."
 
A door slid aside, interrupting a wall painting of a long jade dragon and revealing a modest dorm room with a bed in each of the far corners. Wu bowed to the instructor. Jason Yun, the boy who'd been playing weiqi aboard the ship, hesitated for a fraction of a second before doing the same. The two of them entered the chamber. Wheeled automatons trundled in after them, bearing their luggage.
 
Jason stepped towards one of the beds. Then he paused. Wu went to the other, and the automaton deposited his bags beside a footlocker. They unpacked their possessions in silence after the machines left. Wu Tenchu found himself glancing into his wardrobe's mirror more than once, staring at his roommate's reflection. Something incomprehensible niggled at the back of his mind.
 
"Where are you from?" he asked after some minutes.
 
"Zhen Bao."
 
Jason's answer was swift and sure. There was no hesitation in his voice or gaze. Wu nodded, and pondered.
 
***
 
The way a person plays weiqi reveals a great deal about them. Whether it's a trickle or a deluge, their mind flows onto the board and takes shape with the placement of each stone. Sun Xi's prescience, Telemachus' impetuousness, Illaria's gentle wisdom... All these things emerged with the patterns of the stones. I alter my own style to render myself inscrutable, but few others take the same precaution. Today, in this final game, I play as my father first taught me. More sentimentality? Perhaps. Yet it seems fitting.
 
Noir... Noir's style is intriguing. I see two players behind his eyes. Both are cunning, yet one is arrogant and aggressive, the other more thoughtful. The mental shift between the two is almost seamless, but not quite.
 
Yes, one may learn a lot from observing a weiqi game. It's how I discovered my greatest friend.
 
***
 
Jason's hand hovered over the board, the white stone held between thumb and forefinger -- awaiting its destiny and its place in the flow of the game. He took a breath and set it down. Wu Tenchu glanced at the board and smiled.
 
"Who taught you how to play?" he asked.
 
"My father."
 
"I thought so." Wu placed his stone. Jason stared at him. "Your position is unwinnable, Highness."
 
There was a sharp intake of breath. Wu looked up and savored the moment of victory.
 
"How?" Jason asked.
 
Wu nodded, pleased that his roommate hadn't insulted him with a useless attempt at subterfuge.
 
"The augmentations used to disguise your appearance are exceptional, but a keen eye can discern the changes. And I've read all of the Emperor's published weiqi games."
 
"Will you..."
 
"I came to this academy to serve the empire, not to disclose its secrets. No one will hear of this from me."
 
"Thank you. Another game?"
 
"First, I should teach you how to play. With the greatest of respect to your father, he isn't my equal."
 
***
 
Many years later, I played weiqi with a young princess. Pride filled my breast that day. For I saw hints of the same techniques I'd taught her father.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Reading The Stones

2014-03-13T03:09:19Z

Ham: Created page with "Ah, such self-indulgence. Autobiography is the greatest vanity of all. Those operatives and friends who hear my words will believe I was overtaken with sentiment in my final m..."

Ah, such self-indulgence. Autobiography is the greatest vanity of all. Those operatives and friends who hear my words will believe I was overtaken with sentiment in my final moments, lost in childhood memories. Some of them may be surprised that I was ever a boy -- that I didn't emerge from a tank of chemicals, already clad in a mandarin's robes and arrogance.
 
Friends... Perhaps I flatter myself. Assassins have few friends, and politicians fewer. Do I seem as dangerous and inscrutable to others as Noir seems to me? You will have to be the judge of that.
 
***
 
Wu Tenchu had never been in space before, so he took a moment to glance out of the window as the ship left the planet's atmosphere. The sight held his interest for a moment or two. But he'd walked among the stars countless times in his computerized simulations, just as he'd trodden ancient Chinese battlefields and a myriad distant worlds. Reality was a poor simulacrum. Hence he turned his attention to the lounge's other occupants instead.
 
The chamber was spacious, like a mansion's living room. The handful of children dispersed through it only served to emphasize its vastness. A girl sat cross-legged on a sofa big enough to hold a sports steam. Three datapads hovered around her head, each pulsing with the soft purple glow of their anti-gravity systems. She read from two whilst making notes on the third. A Snuuth boy -- the sole non-human Wu had seen aboard the ship -- lay on the opposite side of the room, sprawled on his back. His snores made his prodigious belly rumble. Empty dishes rested around him like conquered nations. A boy and girl were at the videogame terminals. The former sat in a cockpit, exchanging fire with rival ships that flashed across a holographic screen. The latter waved her arms in the air, while her jian-wielding doppelganger decapitated enemy warriors.
 
The last child sat at a low table. His datapad rested on its surface, projecting a weiqi game into the air above. The boy's brow was creased, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. Wu followed the game for a few moments and decided that the artificial adversary would score a narrow victory. As he was about to look away, the boy shot him a quick glance. Their eyes only met for the briefest instant before the weiqi player looked away again -- as though startled that he'd been observed. There was something in his eyes that intrigued Wu Tenchu, but he couldn't decide what.
 
No more passengers had boarded the vessel before it took off. Wu assumed other children had been sent on different ships -- that dividing the academy's intake between multiple spacecraft was a security precaution. Why risk the planet's best and brightest students aboard a single craft, where a mechanical failure or attack could eliminate them all at once? Had he been an enemy of the empire, he would have relished such an opportunity.
 
Wu leaned back in his chair, gazed out of the window, and mentally sketched out a dozen stratagems to destroy the ship, as well as two dozen ways to counteract them.
 
***
 
The galaxy holds more secrets than stars. Millions of spies and agents seek them out, because knowledge is the most valuable thing in the universe. All advancements and victories begin with knowledge in the minds of those men and women responsible for bringing them to pass. Experimental technologies, battle plans, diplomatic meetings, the forging of alliances in the void... To know these things before others is to have an advantage in matters of both war and peace.
 
Even my magnificent mind can't number all the fragments of information which have passed before my eyes in my time as an assassin, an advisor, a prime minister. The vast bulk of them reside in repositories which may startle my successors with their scope and magnitude. But others, the latest acquisitions, lurk within my brain and the encrypted terminals Noir couldn't access. It's time to share them.
 
A little twitch of the fingers. The stroking of my moustache. The way I hold the weiqi stone as I pretend to scrutinize the board (in truth, I had this move planned several minutes ago). All these things are messages that bring my will to fruition and send knowledge into the hands I desire to possess them. Some will be of little immediate consequence: an ambassador's drug of choice; the name of a president's secret lover; the identities of a womanizing hero's illegitimate children. But all things can become tools or weapons when the moment arises.
 
Zhao Chen, She, Bao, Shayu, and my other agents will each find certain things meant for their eyes and action. Missions assigned to them by a man who'll be dead before they read the first word. All will be carried out, regardless of who replaces me. Not because of personal loyalties -- I've taught them better than that. But because they trust my judgment, and know these deeds will serve the empire even if they cannot yet understand how.
 
A few veins of information cause me a pang. These are the mysteries death will prevent me from unraveling, and must be bequeathed to others unsolved. I'll never know what Kulnar-Xex ships were doing at the edge of Besalaad space, nor how an ancient sword came to be lodged in the rock of a Centurian base. I shan't learn why a bizarre religious group is pursuing Ham, or the truth behind the weapon hidden beneath the Grand Temple on Jerusalem Maior (though I have my suspicions, fanciful as they may seem). Ham... If he has enemies such as Noir, he may have need of unfathomable weapons...
 
***
 
"Wu Tenchu and Jason Yun."
 
A door slid aside, interrupting a wall painting of a long jade dragon and revealing a modest dorm room with a bed in each of the far corners. Wu bowed to the instructor. Jason Yun, the boy who'd been playing weiqi aboard the ship, hesitated for a fraction of a second before doing the same. The two of them entered the chamber. Wheeled automatons trundled in after them, bearing their luggage.
 
Jason stepped towards one of the beds. Then he paused. Wu went to the other, and the automaton deposited his bags beside a footlocker. They unpacked their possessions in silence after the machines left. Wu Tenchu found himself glancing into his wardrobe's mirror more than once, staring at his roommate's reflection. Something incomprehensible niggled at the back of his mind.
 
"Where are you from?" he asked after some minutes.
 
"Zhen Bao."
 
Jason's answer was swift and sure. There was no hesitation in his voice or gaze. Wu nodded, and pondered.
 
***
 
The way a person plays weiqi reveals a great deal about them. Whether it's a trickle or a deluge, their mind flows onto the board and takes shape with the placement of each stone. Sun Xi's prescience, Telemachus' impetuousness, Illaria's gentle wisdom... All these things emerged with the patterns of the stones. I alter my own style to render myself inscrutable, but few others take the same precaution. Today, in this final game, I play as my father first taught me. More sentimentality? Perhaps. Yet it seems fitting.
 
Noir... Noir's style is intriguing. I see two players behind his eyes. Both are cunning, yet one is arrogant and aggressive, the other more thoughtful. The mental shift between the two is almost seamless, but not quite.
 
Yes, one may learn a lot from observing a weiqi game. It's how I discovered my greatest friend.
 
***
 
Jason's hand hovered over the board, the white stone held between thumb and forefinger -- awaiting its destiny and its place in the flow of the game. He took a breath and set it down. Wu Tenchu glanced at the board and smiled.
 
"Who taught you how to play?" he asked.
 
"My father."
 
"I thought so." Wu placed his stone. Jason stared at him. "Your position is unwinnable, Highness."
 
There was a sharp intake of breath. Wu looked up and savored the moment of victory.
 
"How?" Jason asked.
 
Wu nodded, pleased that his roommate hadn't insulted him with a useless attempt at subterfuge.
 
"The augmentations used to disguise your appearance are exceptional, but a keen eye can discern the changes. And I've read all of the Emperor's published weiqi games."
 
"Will you..."
 
"I came to this academy to serve the empire, not to disclose its secrets. No one will hear of this from me."
 
"Thank you. Another game?"
 
"First, I should teach you how to play. With the greatest of respect to your father, he isn't my equal."
 
***
 
Many years later, I played weiqi with a young princess. Pride filled my breast that day. For I saw hints of the same techniques I'd taught her father.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Wu Tenchu's Schooldays

2014-03-13T03:06:48Z

Ham: Created page with "Wu!" "Yes?" The teacher loomed over the boy's desk, clasping its edges with big, thick hands. His forearms -- each a meaty club, like a leg of lamb -- twitch..."

Wu!"
 
"Yes?"
 
The teacher loomed over the boy's desk, clasping its edges with big, thick hands. His forearms -- each a meaty club, like a leg of lamb -- twitched as his fingers whitened. Some of Wu's classmates claimed Mr. Anderson was a former thugby player. According to playground rumor, that sport banished him because he tore a fan's spine out. The boy liked that story. It showed a laudable cynicism for the education system.
 
"This is not the assigned reading!"
 
He tapped the upper edge of Wu's datapad. The screen displayed long paragraphs of text, in lieu of the short stanzas which adorned those of his classmates.
 
"The rhyme was ill-conceived." The boy glanced up into the man's eyes. His face was impassive. "The poet wields dactyls as weapons of blunt force trauma, and I reject her contention that all people are born equal. As a child who's derived superior intellectual capabilities from his genetic makeup, I find the notion trite and offensive."
 
Mr. Anderson blinked at the small child. Perhaps his colleagues had prepared him for this most unusual pupil, but it was quite different to actually hear such discourse coming from a five-year-old's mouth. He turned the datapad round and tapped the screen. A heading appeared in bold text.
 
"Assassination reports?"
 
"They were declassified yesterday. I'm not violating any imperial laws."
 
The other children were watching. Mr. Anderson swept the room with a glare, and their heads dropped back over their work. He grunted and turned to Wu Tenchu again.
 
"What's this?" The teacher's fingertip pressed down on a small thumbnail image in the corner of the page.
 
A diagram expanded until it filled the screen. It was a strange combination of poorly drawn stick-figures and precise lines and trajectories, marked with mathematical symbols.
 
"The assassin's method was inefficient," Wu said, "so I constructed a better one."
 
"Go see the headmaster."
 
"Very well."
 
***
 
A dozen scans sweep the room, scouring both of us. Their displays are subtle. No holographic screens blare their findings. But the artworks behind Noir shift in accordance with their discoveries. There's a vase that would have defied any collector to say it wasn't conceived on Earth during China's Ming Dynasty. Now its painted figures move, revealing the artful pretense. My own invention, created for practicality and ego. A little test of genius. The colors and patterns of a courtier's robes confirm my identity and humanity. This comes as little surprise, though I welcome the news that I haven't been replaced by an android without my knowledge. The man's hat changes hue when the psionic examination is complete. My mind is unclouded, beyond the grasp of any psychic intrusion or conditioning. A later addition to the technology -- this one an admission of past failure.
 
The figure on the next vase is far more curious. A noblewoman stands in a lavish garden, her beautiful face and gorgeous gown wrought from simple strokes of blue coloring on the crisp white background. Tiny birds flicker around her. Perspective turns their flock into a swarm of insects, an azure cloud which seeps into her sumptuous garments until bird and fabric are indistinguishable. It takes me a split-second to identify this permutation from countless others. The scans have disclosed nanobots woven into Noir's clothing, miniscule machines that mend and bolster his garb. The technology is advanced but not beyond the reach of Sian science. What intrigues me is that the woman's skin is unblemished. Noir's technology is worn, not embedded. No cybernetic systems pulse inside his flesh and grant him his strength, speed, or toughness.
 
The woman wears five bracelets on her left arm. My opponent is, at least in part, human. But her right arm is angled downwards, thwarted. The alien tissues defy examination. Interesting... Most interesting... Very few known species can mate with humans and produce offspring. Of these, none resemble the being I saw on my screens when gunfire stripped away his clothes.
 
A black stone clicks on the board. I watch Noir with redoubled scrutiny. His eyes meet mine, perhaps in challenge, or else curiosity of his own.
 
***
 
"I want your lunch!"
 
Kwai's friends encircled Wu Tenchu, cutting off all avenues of escape. Wu assessed them in his peripheral vision. Three were flabby, two tall but lanky. None were strong in his estimation. As an intellectual exercise he calculated the force he would need to break their knees or ribs, and decided that he had nothing to fear from them as long as he struck fast and hard. But Kwai himself was another matter. The boy towered above Wu. His bulging muscles and acne-slathered face told of botched hormone therapies.
 
"Your lunch!" he repeated.
 
Wu glanced down at his lunchbox as though becoming aware of it for the first time.
 
"My mother isn't a good cook," he said. "You would find this meal unpalatable."
 
Kwai snorted. A yellow-green blob shot from his left nostril, trailing a rope of snot. It dangled in front of his chin, swaying back and forth, a disgusting but almost hypnotic pendulum.
 
"Give me it!"
 
Other children were gathering from across the playground, massing a safe distance beyond the ring of bullies. Their faces bobbed beside the flabby and gangly bodies like an audience glimpsed between the curtains in the school theatre. Some of them grinned, filled with the glee of former victims now made spectators at another's suffering. Others looked around for a teacher. Those who knew Wu best wore quizzical expressions, and wondered what would come of this. Kwai had been stealing lunches ever since he returned from his dubious medical treatments. During the lunch hour he crammed his mouth full of every comestible he could buy from the canteen or snatch from smaller children, consuming a significant portion of his own bodyweight. But he hadn't stolen from Wu Tenchu before -- and many looked on with bated breath to see what would happen.
 
"Here." Wu handed him the little blue lunchbox.
 
Children gasped at his surrender. Some sneered. A few seemed disappointed. Kwai looked around, brow furrowed as his hormone-addled brain tried to comprehend their emotions. In the end he shrugged and brandished his prize above his head. Then he brought it back down and opened it.
 
His eyes widened. His mouth fell open.
 
"It's... It's..."
 
One of his burly comrades came over to his side and stared into the container. He yelped.
 
"It's a bomb!"
 
There were screams. Some of the onlookers ran across the playground, shrieking, wailing, or even laughing. Others surged forward -- disbelief suppressing caution.
 
"Throw it away!" Kwai's friend said. "Throw it away!"
 
Wu Tenchu whistled. Steel bands shot out of the lunchbox with a series of neat metallic clinks. They wrapped around Kwai's fingers, holding them fast against either side of the box, and slid into newly revealed recesses. Kwai shook his arms. But the bonds held firm. He stared at his friend, mouth agape, eyes beseeching. The other child fled -- barging his way through a pack of smaller children, scattering them like skittles.
 
"Wu!" The snot pendulum swung this way and that. "Wu!"
 
"I recommend that everyone withdraw to a safe distance," Wu Tenchu said. "Now."
 
The children looked at him, looked at Kwai, and dispersed. Their exodus swept through the playground.
 
"Wu!" Kwai stared into the lunchbox, where the digital clock's red numerals continued to count down. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"
 
"Turn what off?"
 
"The bomb! Turn the bomb off!"
 
"There's no bomb."
 
Kwai looked up at him. The snot dangled motionless, as though it too were stunned. He stared back down at the clock, left eyelid twitching, acne-covered face caught between horror and relief.
 
The countdown reached zero.
 
The 'bomb' flew from the box, a slab of metal launched by a powerful spring. There was a crunch and a splat. Wu Tenchu winced. It appeared that he'd miscalculated its strength.
 
Kwai fell onto his knees and bawled. Crimson gushed from his nose. A haphazard assortment of smashed and disarrayed teeth hung loose in his bloody maw. The strand of snot still dangled there, slathered in red.
 
***
 
A man with two natures. Two origins? Two voices. Yes... The human and the bestial. An enigma in black, one who defies the keenest scanners and databases the Sian Empire has to offer. What are you, Noir?
 
I could give a signal and alert troops stationed nearby. Dozens. Hundreds. They'd storm my home and engage him. But that would be foolish. I've seen what he's capable of, and I'd only be calling them here to share my tomb. Even Ham couldn't stop him. Nor could the weapons that lined my trap. It will take greater countermeasures, and the sacrificing of one stone for another.
 
***
 
"Sit down," the headmaster said.
 
The boy closed the office door and walked to the chair in front of the desk. The headmaster's glare followed him as he went. Wu sat down and reached towards the bowl of candy.
 
"No!" Doctor Shinju's fingers clamped around his wrist. "Those aren't for you."
 
Wu shrugged his shoulders and rotated his hand against the headmaster's thumb, freeing it from the man's grasp.
 
"Wu, we've been more than patient with you."
 
"Have you, sir?"
 
"We've tolerated your constant insolence, disobedience, and disruptions-"
 
"A competent headmaster wouldn't have allowed a student to flout his authority like that."
 
"Wu!" Shinju's face reddened, till his vulture-like proboscis resembled a strawberry flavored lollipop. "The superintendent said we had to make allowances for a child of your intelligence... But this is too much! Maiming another pupil!"
 
"He tried to steal from me. Me. It was... unwise."
 
"This afternoon you'll be flogged in front of the entire school, then expelled."
 
"Oh? It's a shame you won't be there to witness my chastisement."
 
"What?"
 
"Because by then you'll have been arrested-"
 
"Wu! How dare you!"
 
"...for embezzlement."
 
Doctor Shinju's face froze.
 
"I... I don't know what you're..."
 
"Your quickening heartbeat says otherwise. As does the blood draining from your cheeks."
 
"I..." The headmaster collapsed back into his chair, deflated. "But..."
 
"If you wish to steal school funds to pay your gambling debts, that's no concern of mine. I've examined the programs you've annexed resources from, and found them to be lacking in intellectual value. But I will not allow you to discipline me like a common miscreant."
 
"Kwai's parents..."
 
"Should remove their son from school until his medical issues have been properly addressed."
 
"I... I..."
 
"I shall take your repetition of the first-person singular pronoun as acquiescence."
 
Wu Tenchu picked up the candy bowl, rose from his chair, and left the room. Three weeks later, the man in ornate robes came to offer him a place at the academy.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Intro

2014-03-13T03:01:56Z

Ham: Created page with "My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die. This doesn't trouble me. An assassin knows death dogs his steps, as surely as it gleams along th..."

My name is Wu Tenchu, and when this game of weiqi is over I will die.
 
This doesn't trouble me. An assassin knows death dogs his steps, as surely as it gleams along the edge of his blade or glimmers upon his pistol's barrel. He lives beneath its shadow, in the very same darkness that claims each of his enemies, waiting for the day fortune turns against him and the slayer is slain. And what is a politician but an assassin on a grander and less honorable scale? His deeds must often be buried in blackness too, for they might make even his friends and allies despise him. Retribution is never far from him either. Only a deluded fool would believe he acts with impunity. Every stone on the board is both killer and victim, and the myriad moments that shaped my life have marked my fate.
 
No, my impending death doesn't perturb me. What irks me is that I know so little about the man whose presence here will force me to purchase his doom with my own. But perhaps there's still time to address this before our game ends, and elucidate the mystery for those who'll walk in my footsteps.
 
A black stone touches the board. My white stone follows. Noir's eyes gaze down at them, two blazing azure flames. His mind is focused and fastened on the battle of wits and strategy. Mine is not. This game takes only a modicum of my concentration, the barest sliver of my intellect. It occupies my enemy and satisfies a portion of my curiosity while I do what must be done. Because my duty to the empire isn't over, and I cannot shirk it in these final minutes.
 
My lips are still, leaving the silence broken only by the clicking of weiqi stones on wood. But words flow faster than a human tongue could ever utter them -- spinning from my brain, cast into the ether, captured by the devices stationed around the room. Recorded and relayed, along with all the hidden data that was mine alone while I lived but must now pass into the safekeeping of those I trust most.
 
My last will and testament.

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu

2014-03-13T03:00:27Z

Ham:

<tabber>
"Intro"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Intro}}
|-|
"Wu Tenchu's Schooldays"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Wu Tenchu's Schooldays}}
|-|
"Reading The Stones"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Reading The Stones}}
|-|
"Emperors and Assassins"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Emperors and Assassins}}
|-|
"Fade to Black"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Fade to Black}}
|-|
"The Weiqi Game"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/The Weiqi Game}}

</tabber>

LotS/The Story/Days of Wu

2014-03-13T02:59:23Z

Ham: Created page with "<tabber> "Intro"= {{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Intro}} |-| "First Love"= {{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Wu Tenchu's Schooldays}} |-| "Salim and The Devil"= {{:LotS/The Sto..."

<tabber>
"Intro"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Intro}}
|-|
"First Love"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Wu Tenchu's Schooldays}}
|-|
"Salim and The Devil"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Reading The Stones}}
|-|
"Ayesha Breaks Free"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Emperors and Assassins}}
|-|
"The Gunmaster's Daughter"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/Fade to Black}}
|-|
"The Saboteur"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Days of Wu/The Weiqi Game}}

</tabber>

LotS/The Story

2014-03-13T02:56:36Z

Ham:

'''The Milky Way'''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Princess_Illaria's_Escape|Princess Illaria's Escape]] (Sian Space) ''The Centurian Collective hunts for Princess Illaria, the last hope of the Sian Empire. Only her champion can save her now.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Legions_of_Steel|Legions of Steel]] (Talos Space) ''Free from the clutches of the Centurians, the Princess and her companions seek aid from TALOS and its robot armies.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Assault on the Zenith|Assault on the Zenith]] (Occupied Sian Space) ''It's time to strike back at the Centurians...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Search for the Princess|The Search for the Princess]] ''The Princess had disappeared, whisked away from the Zenith in a flash of light. But she's out there somewhere, and you'll find her even if you have to tear the galaxy apart.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Politics of War|Politics of War]] (Sol) ''Perhaps it's fitting that the fate of human space might be decided upon Earth, mankind's ancient homeworld.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Aphrodisian Anabasis|Aphrodisian Anabasis]] ''War makes strange bedfellows. And so the Princess must journey to Cythera, the Contella vice-world, to secure that faction's aid against Centurians.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Right Tools|The Right Tools]] ''A mission as ambitious as the one you're planning can only succeed if you have the proper assets at the ready.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/A Masterful Stratagem|A Masterful Stratagem]] ''The Centurians are untouchable while the Emperor is in their grasp. It's time to rectify that...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Scaean_Gates|Scean Gates]] ''She's gone. Now there's nothing left but vengeance.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Because I'm The Wanderer|Because I'm The Wanderer]] ''The galaxy is so vast. So much space to lose yourself in...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Talia's Team|Talia's Team]] ''If she fumbles, her first match might be her last.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Prince & The Pixels|The Prince & The Pixels]] ''Videogames are dangerous. But so's Telemachus.
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Saga of Drunken Ragnar|The Saga of Drunken Ragnar]] ''All good stories start with a drink...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Lu Bu's Halloween|Lu Bu's Halloween]] ''Halloween's for killing and candy. Lu Bu can't eat candy...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays|A. Puny Human Birthdays]] ''"Wretched stink-beast! Tell us about these 'birthdays' your pathetic species celebrates, or we shall destroy you with our superior Rylattu technology!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays II|A2. Puny Human Birthdays II]] (Twice as puny, and full of goo) ''"Puny human! Continue the birthday tales or suffer immediate disintegration!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Christmas Chaos|Christmas Chaos]] ''"Peace on Earth... But they never said anything about the rest of the galaxy."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Music of the Spheres|Music of the Spheres]] ''"When she sings to the stars, the cosmos becomes her chorus."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)|Playing with Fire (Part 1)]] ''"They've been burning for a very long time..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)|Playing with Fire (Part 2)]] ''"You dreamed of fire... But who will burn?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Between Heaven and Hell|Between Heaven and Hell]] ''"Heaven totters on the brink of war, and in the shadows azure eyes blaze."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void|A3. Tales of The Void]] ''"The Dark Delight's passengers have stories to share, but what secrets do they hide?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void 2|A4. Tales of The Void 2]] ''"Stories are powerful indeed. At the Tyraness' court they hold the power of life and death..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Days of Wu|Days of Wu]] ''"One last game of Weiqi, while the mandarin does what must be done."
[[LotS/La_Historia|Spanish translation]] (Work in progress).

[[LotS/La Storia|Italian translation]] (Work in progress).

LotS/missions/Days of Wu

2014-03-13T02:51:32Z

Ham:

[[File:LotS_Quest_Zone_24.jpg]]
{{LotS/ZoneNotes
|title=Zone Unlock
|notes=Defeat {{LotS/Mission2|Between_Heaven_and_Hell|Between Heaven and Hell}} on Normal difficulty. ??
}}

{{Lots/MissionDrops
|collectable=Bowl of Weiqi Stones
|item1=
|item2=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Wu Tenchu's Schooldays
|image=z24 a1 q1
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=
|legendaryexp=
|legendarycredits=
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=
|nightmareexp=
|nightmarecredits=
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Reading The Stones
|image=z24 a1 q2
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=
|legendaryexp=
|legendarycredits=
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=
|nightmareexp=
|nightmarecredits=
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Emperors And Assassins
|image=z24 a1 q3
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=
|legendaryexp=
|legendarycredits=
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=
|nightmareexp=
|nightmarecredits=
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/mission
|name=Fade to Black
|image=z24 a1 q4
|normalenergy=50
|normalexp=83
|normalcredits=1080 - 1320
|normalruns=
|hardenergy=75
|hardexp=125
|hardcredits=
|hardruns=
|legendaryenergy=
|legendaryexp=
|legendarycredits=
|legendaryruns=
|nightmareenergy=
|nightmareexp=
|nightmarecredits=
|nightmareruns=
|prereq=
|loot=
}}

{{LotS/missionboss
|name=The Weiqi Game
|image=Boss z24 a1
|normalenergy=150
|normalexp=330
|normalcredits=6480 - 7920
|normalhp=
|hardenergy=225
|hardexp=495
|hardcredits=
|hardhp=
|legendaryenergy=
|legendaryexp=
|legendarycredits=
|legendaryhp=
|nightmareenergy=
|nightmareexp=
|nightmarecredits=
|nightmarehp=
|loot={{LotS/RaidDataLink|Weiqi Game}} - Normal 100%
}}

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/The Saboteur

2013-11-09T12:08:56Z

Ham: Created page with ""Just one more room," Susie said. "What if we don't find anything?" Remmler asked. "Then we keep tossing the rest of the ship until we do." "Great....."

"Just one more room," Susie said.
 
"What if we don't find anything?" Remmler asked.
 
"Then we keep tossing the rest of the ship until we do."
 
"Great..."
 
The bunks were neat, their sheets tucked under the mattresses with military exactness. There were no loose clothes scattered around here. Even the pair of datapads were in perfect parallel with the edges of the table they rested on. Susie explored the bathroom and found it no less fastidious. Toiletries stood in precise order, as though ready for parade inspection. A black makeup bag sat on the shelf beside them. She picked it up and pulled back the zip.
 
***
 
The mess hall's floor shuddered.
 
"That sounded like-" Hornung said.
 
Astrid pressed her fingers against her earpiece.
 
"Susie! Remmler! What happened?" The communicator was silent. "Casp, stay here. I'm going-"
 
"You'll remain where you are, Captain Jaeger. You all will."
 
Mrs. Bassingthwaighte stood on the other side of the table. She was holding her arm out, palm forward, as though trying to stop traffic. It was absurd and surreal. Until Astrid's gaze focused on the black hole in the heel of her hand.
 
The woman spun round, first one way, then the other -- pushing her palm towards each of the other passengers in turn.
 
"Stay back, all of you. I'll kill anyone who moves!"
 
Josh Bassingthwaighte grinned.
 
"By order of the Centurian Collective," she continued, "you're all under arrest!"
 
"For what?" Salim asked.
 
"Conspiracy to smuggle goods into Collective controlled space." She turned back to the captain, aiming the black circle at her once more. "I haven't found your hiding place yet, but I know the weapons are onboard. Tell me where they are before our reinforcements arrive and I'll inform my superiors of your cooperation."
 
"I don't know what you're talking about. There aren't any-"
 
"The Dark Delight is carrying arms that you intended to deliver to Sian rebels on an occupied world. Lying won't protect you or your crew. Those booby traps transmitted a signal, informing the nearest Centurian vessels that we require immediate assistance. They'll tear this ship apart until they find the evidence. Save them the trouble!"
 
"Those are ne being smuggled! They're for... for... Remmler's birthday! The man loves his-"
 
"Rush the cow!" Ayesha said. "She can't shoot us all!"
 
"Aye, that's bloody good advice, lassie!"
 
The room erupted in motion. Hornung stepped towards Mrs. Bassingthwaighte, and she whirled round to cover him with her cybernetic weapon. Casper dashed at the dining table. Josh sprang into it in the same instant, a laser-edged switchblade in his hand, and slashed at the Scotsman.
 
"Oh, ye cannae be serious!"
 
Casper stumbled backwards. Blood spurted from the stumps on his left hand.
 
Astrid reached for her sidearm. But Josh leapt again, hurling himself through the air like a pouncing cat. He slammed into her -- impossibly heavy -- and the two of them went down in a heap.
 
The boy sat atop her, giggling like a child. But the murderous expression on his face was far older. Small but powerful muscles bulged in her grasp. The silver-blue blade drove at her neck.
 
A blast rang through the mess hall.
 
-------------------------------------
 

"Try again, my dear!" Horning said.
 
Another bolt of crimson energy flew from Mrs. Bassingthwaighte's palm. And once again Maurice Hornung slipped aside, leaving it to sear the bulkhead behind him. Salim Khan pulled Ayesha to the floor and shielded her with his body.
 
"Cut off your face!" Josh's voice was a high hiss, like a snake's.
 
His strong, augmented body pressed down on Astrid. His forearm strained against her fingers -- hand poised to deliver the fatal blow. But he wasn't the only one with cybernetic enhancements.
 
Captain Jaeger's digits tightened, hard as steel. Her forearms flexed and tensed. The boy's eyes widened, then narrowed. A metallic vise crushed his forearm. It compressed the strengthened flesh and internal systems, grinding them against a hardened radius and ulna. Josh's left hand darted over to support his right or perhaps take the knife.
 
Astrid grabbed the boy's skull. The same fingers that had once ripped a man's testicles off exerted every pascal of pressure on the child-sized cranium. They fractured bone. Josh Bassingthwaighte screamed.
 
On the other side of the room, Maurice Hornung spun past another shot like the universe's greatest dodgeball player, Mrs. Bassingthwaighte swore like a hooker from Drekchester, and Marshal Roth drew a revolver from the recesses of his duster.
 
The Centurian agent started to turn, perhaps alerted by instinct. But Roth had lived his life by the speed of his hands. She didn't stand a chance.
 
His gun boomed. Her brains sprayed from the exit wound in chunks, and not even Maurice Hornung was swift enough to evade them all. The dapper gentleman sighed.
 
"Casp, are you-" Astrid said.
 
"I'm fine, captain!" The Scot was wrapping a towel around his injured hand. "Dinna worry about me!"
 
She got up, pushing Josh's corpse aside, and activated her communicator.
 
"Susie, Rem-"
 
"I'm with them, ma'am," Frank Toyotomi said.
 
"Are they-"
 
"There's less of them than there used to be. Remmler's missing an arm at the shoulder. Susie's lost both hers from the elbow down. But I've closed the wounds, and it's nothing good cybernetics or regrowth won't fix."
 
"Is the engine working?"
 
"Yes, ma'am."
 
"Then get us the hell out of here before the Centurians show up!" She closed the connection, glanced at the female agent's corpse, and looked to Marshal Roth. "You were supposed to surrender all weapons when you boarded the ship."
 
"I'm sorry for the deception, ma'am, but I never could sleep comfortable without a gun about me. And under the circumstances..."
 
"Ye can put the wee thing away now, Mr. Roth."
 
"I'm afraid it has one more bit of business first." He aimed the weapon at Maurice Hornung.
 
"What're you doing?" Salim asked.
 
"Our friend 'Maurice' here is a wanted man. He's committed more crimes than most folk could count. That's why I came on this here ship in the first place. To bring him in."
 
Maurice Hornung grinned.
 
"There's really no need for the gun," he said. "After all, it's not even loaded."
 
"That lady with the hole in her head begs to differ, friend."
 
Hornung opened his hand. Five bullets lay in his palm. Roth blinked, and stared at his revolver's cylinder.
 
"I let you keep one, dear boy. I thought it might come in handy."
 
Marshal grunted and stowed his gun.
 
"You're a quick one, all right. Just like they said. And I suppose you may have helped save these folk's lives. Just one question... What's a man like you doing on a ship like this? After the things they're smuggling?"
 
"Weapons? Oh, no. Those are hardly suitable sport for a gentleman thief. I came onboard because of our young lady friend here."
 
"Me?" Ayesha stared at him.
 
"Forgive me, my dear, but I fear you haven't been entirely honest with us. Though I did rather enjoy the way you depicted things in your story."
 
She sighed.
 
"You know?"
 
"I do."
 
"I don't understand," Salim said. "Who is she?"
 
"I'm the Empress of Jacara."
 
"And those mementos she absconded with are the crown jewels," Hornung said. "I'd intended to purloin them."
 
Astrid spluttered.
 
"There were transmissions about her!" she said. "But... The pictures..."
 
"Green hair and a nose full of metal? Duh!" The girl rolled her eyes. "Like anyone'd look for an empress under this stuff."
 
Astrid Jaeger grimaced.
 
"Your orders, captain?" Casper asked.
 
"We'll sort this mess out when we're far away from the Centurians." She sighed. "Break out more of that bourbon. I think we could all use a drink."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/The Gunmaster's Daughter

2013-11-09T11:59:37Z

Ham:

Marshal Roth," Susie said.
 
"So he's a lawman," Remmler said.
 
"No, that's just his first name."
 
"Oh."
 
They went into his cabin and poked around, their movements made instinctive by recent practice. Roth's room was far neater than Ayesha's -- though it was hard to imagine any chamber being less so, unless it had been hit by a tsunami.
 
"Sure he's not a lawman?" Remmler said. He picked up a six-pointed metal star and held it out to her. The words 'Red Roth' were written across its face in scarlet letters. "He has a badge."
 
"That's too tacky to be a real sheriff's badge. It's probably a souvenir from one of those Wild West style colonies."
 
Susie pulled open a drawer and sorted through piles of rough, hardwearing trousers. Between two of them she found a black leather object. She drew it out and showed it to Remmler.
 
"Funny," he said. "When Roth handed over that revolver of his, I thought he gave us the holster too..."
 
***
 
"Those were some mighty fine stories." The cowboy tilted his hat back, revealing a grizzled face that was more interesting than handsome, framed by a short black beard. "I reckon we've all got our money's worth tonight. If you don't mind, maybe I'll add one of my own. Seems the least I could do. Especially after this bourbon you gave me."
 
"It was my pleasure, Mr. Roth," Casper said. "But I willnae say no to another wee tale."
 
"I ain't met the devil like this gentleman, and the story of my first love isn't fit for any company that's got more class than a bordello. Can't even tell the story of how I plucked up the courage to leave home like the little lady did. For me that choice was taken right from me by triggers and bullets. But I've led a more interesting life than most. And I've met my share of folk others might want to hear about..."
 
05:59, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 

Marshal Roth looked up at the ceiling while the last chamber of his six-shooter special washed its burning contents down his throat. He set the glass beside its five siblings and blinked. It wasn't the first time, or anywhere close to it, that the world had changed itself between the first glass of bourbon and the last. It always became a little brighter, a little blurrier, and a little happier. But this was the first time they'd altered the universe enough to leave him staring at an attractive young woman with a cigar wedged in the corner of her mouth.
 
"Marshal Roth," she said.
 
"Ain't ladylike to talk with your mouth full. But yeah, I'm Roth."
 
She pulled the cigar out. Grey specks of ash and orange motes fell from its end, the remains of a miniature cataclysm. Some settled on her blue sweater. Others found purchase on the black webbing and pouches she wore, or on the revolver holstered at her hip.
 
"They say you're the fastest draw and straightest shot out of any unaugmented gunslingers in the system. That you even blew a cyborg's brains out in a high noon showdown."
 
"Stories have a way of making a man seem more than he is, but maybe that's true. You don't look like you're here to get your picture taken with the big bad cowboy though."
 
"I'm not. I want to duel you."
 
"Is that a fact? And what put an idea like that into your pretty little head?"
 
"Don't make fun of me, Mr. Roth. I'll put up a hundred thousand credits -- and they're yours, win or lose. Yours or your next of kin's. If you win, you can have my ship as well."
 
"Sit down."
 
"I-"
 
"If you want to discuss putting a bullet in my head or my heart, you'll do it civilized like. Sit down."
 
She pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Her right arm rested on the wood and held her burning cigar aloft. It hovered between them, an angry red eye.
 
"You may think we're backward folk around these parts, who'll step into the street and shoot a man or woman without so much as asking their name. And maybe some of us are. But I ain't one of them. So let's start there."
 
"Okay. My name's Jessica Atranx. You might have heard of my father, Gunmaster Duncan."
 
"So I have. A damn good fighter and an even better commander, so they say. Not the kind who'd go into bars looking for duels."
 
"No, he isn't. But I'm not my father. And I never will be, unless he agrees to train me. Do you know what the best gunman in the galaxy gave me for my tenth birthday? A doll. I wanted a gun, to be like him. He was supposed to teach me! But he gave me a doll! And he still thinks that way -- like I'm a child."
 
"Going back to him in a box is a mighty good way of hurting the man, if that's your aim."
 
"I'm my father's daughter, whatever he thinks. And I've trained almost every waking hour for years. No offence, Mr. Roth, but you aren't my equal. No one is unless they're so packed full of cybernetics that they're more robot than human. If we fight, I'll win. And he'll know what I can do."
 
"My mother taught me a lot of things, Miss Atranx. One of them was never to mess with a girl who has problems with her father. Mighty lot of good that bit of wisdom would have done me, if I'd heeded it before now. Doesn't mean it's too late though. I'm sorry, but I ain't interested."
 
"Then I'll make the same offer to every armed man on this planet, and I'll put them all down one by one. You aren't the only gunslinger with a reputation."
 
"You're fixing to get yourself killed, with a crazy notion like that in your head."
 
"You haven't seen me shoot."
 
"Tell you what... I ain't going to so much as contemplate stepping into the street with an angry little girl, no matter who her daddy is. Not unless I know it's a fair fight. But if you prove it to me..."
 
"I will!"
 
"Then let's go somewhere nice and peaceful, and see what you can do. But first... You recall what I said about a fair fight? Well, I've got six shots of bourbon inside me."
 
Jessica Atranx waved her cigar at the nearest barmaid.
 
"Bring me what he had," she said.
 
"That's a mighty tall order for a girl your age," Roth said, when the circular tray was put in front of her.
 
"Like I keep telling my father, I'm not a little girl."
 
She tossed her cigar into the air. It flew end over end, ascending towards the ceiling. Jessica downed the first shot and slammed the glass onto the table. The cigar fell, still spinning. The burning end landed in the glass with a soft hiss. She smirked and drained the other five glasses.
 
"You drink like a gunslinger, at least," Roth said. "Come with me."
 
***
 
"Cans? You shoot at cans?"
 
The two of them stood beneath a purple-black sky and its smattering of stars. Lazy little clouds of dust blew around their boots. In the distance was a fence, on which rested six metal cans -- their outlines faint and labels indiscernible in the gloom.
 
"We ain't fancy here," Roth said. "But we know what good shooting is. Reckon you could stand here and drop all six with that iron of yours?"
 
"Of course."
 
"Then let's see it."
 
Jessica took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked towards each can in turn. Then her hand twitched. The revolver almost flew into her grasp, and roared. Six reports echoed across the dusty field. Six cans flew away, cast out into the night.
 
There was a seventh bang. This time a scream followed it.
 
"I'll be taking that, if you don't mind," Roth said.
 
He blew the smoke from the end of his barrel, crouched, and snatched Jessica's gun. She clutched her right knee and moaned.
 
"You bastard! You goddamn cheating bastard!"
 
"I bet your daddy never would have fallen for that. And it ain't cheating when there are no rules. I never said we'd duel." He tossed her gun aside and reached into his duster's deep pocket. "Put this on the wound."
 
Roth tossed her a wound-seal pack. She stared it at and then at him.
 
"That's right. I didn't bring you out here to bury you in the dirt. Mighty hard work, digging a good grave. And you're in no condition to do it for me. Put that on."
 
Jessica glared at him, her eyes dark diamonds that never left his face. But she applied the pack.
 
"We're going to take another walk," he said. "Don't worry. I'll help you along..."
 
***
 
"That smell..." she said.
 
A foul odor assaulted them both. It was a vile, chemical stench that all but smothered the stink of rotting corpse flesh. Something bubbled in the darkness. Roth tapped the side of a tall metal pole set in the ground, and the lamp at its apex flashed into brilliance. It bathed the horrific tableau in light.
 
Jessica held her breath.
 
A dozen yards in front of them was a large square pit. Viscous green liquid seethed and popped inside it, along with a legion of dead bathers. Skeletal limbs and visages -- many still crowned by cowboy hats -- protruded here and there, some half-draped over the edges as though they'd tried to pull themselves free from the corrosive hell. Scarred and twisted birds hopped around them, ripping at tiny scraps of flesh with ruined beaks.
 
"Come here," Roth said.
 
He grabbed Jessica's arm and dragged her along, ignoring her struggles.
 
"No! No! Get off me! I-"
 
"I ain't brought you here to toss you in, if that's what you're thinking. Grant's mighty particular about who we throw in his corpse pit."
 
She stopped fighting, either because she believed him or because she'd accepted the inevitable. If Marshal Roth wanted her dead he could just pull the trigger and kick her body the rest of the way.
 
"You ever shoot anyone before?" he asked.
 
"I-"
 
"Don't lie to a man with a gun in his hand and a heap of dead at his feet."
 
"No. Never."
 
"Thought not. Shooting targets ain't the same. I don't care how fancy they are. Killing's no game. Look at them. Look!" He tugged her arm until she stared down at the grinning faces and clawing hands. "See the hole in that one's head? That's what a bullet does. Shot him down in the street, like he wanted to do to me. Like you wanted to do to me. Made a corpse, a widow, and three fatherless kids with the same bullet."
 
Jessica opened her mouth, words on her tongue. But she closed it again and gazed in silence.
 
"Next time you think about shooting a man, you remember this place. Because sometimes it's worth it, sometimes it ain't. But it's never a game. If you want to get back at your daddy, you marry a Blob Beast. Don't you dare go around putting good men and women in the ground because of it."
 
She didn't protest when Roth heaved her onto his shoulder and carried her to the town doctor.
 

05:59, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 
"That girl's come mighty far since then. But I reckon she still remembers that night, and the faces bobbing in the corpse pit."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/The Gunmaster's Daughter

2013-11-09T11:59:07Z

Ham: Created page with "Marshal Roth," Susie said. "So he's a lawman," Remmler said. "No, that's just his first name." "Oh." They went into his cabin and poked around, their movements made instin..."

Marshal Roth," Susie said.

"So he's a lawman," Remmler said.

"No, that's just his first name."

"Oh."

They went into his cabin and poked around, their movements made instinctive by recent practice. Roth's room was far neater than Ayesha's -- though it was hard to imagine any chamber being less so, unless it had been hit by a tsunami.
 
"Sure he's not a lawman?" Remmler said. He picked up a six-pointed metal star and held it out to her. The words 'Red Roth' were written across its face in scarlet letters. "He has a badge."
 
"That's too tacky to be a real sheriff's badge. It's probably a souvenir from one of those Wild West style colonies."
 
Susie pulled open a drawer and sorted through piles of rough, hardwearing trousers. Between two of them she found a black leather object. She drew it out and showed it to Remmler.
 
"Funny," he said. "When Roth handed over that revolver of his, I thought he gave us the holster too..."
 
***
 
"Those were some mighty fine stories." The cowboy tilted his hat back, revealing a grizzled face that was more interesting than handsome, framed by a short black beard. "I reckon we've all got our money's worth tonight. If you don't mind, maybe I'll add one of my own. Seems the least I could do. Especially after this bourbon you gave me."
 
"It was my pleasure, Mr. Roth," Casper said. "But I willnae say no to another wee tale."
 
"I ain't met the devil like this gentleman, and the story of my first love isn't fit for any company that's got more class than a bordello. Can't even tell the story of how I plucked up the courage to leave home like the little lady did. For me that choice was taken right from me by triggers and bullets. But I've led a more interesting life than most. And I've met my share of folk others might want to hear about..."
 
05:59, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 

Marshal Roth looked up at the ceiling while the last chamber of his six-shooter special washed its burning contents down his throat. He set the glass beside its five siblings and blinked. It wasn't the first time, or anywhere close to it, that the world had changed itself between the first glass of bourbon and the last. It always became a little brighter, a little blurrier, and a little happier. But this was the first time they'd altered the universe enough to leave him staring at an attractive young woman with a cigar wedged in the corner of her mouth.
 
"Marshal Roth," she said.
 
"Ain't ladylike to talk with your mouth full. But yeah, I'm Roth."
 
She pulled the cigar out. Grey specks of ash and orange motes fell from its end, the remains of a miniature cataclysm. Some settled on her blue sweater. Others found purchase on the black webbing and pouches she wore, or on the revolver holstered at her hip.
 
"They say you're the fastest draw and straightest shot out of any unaugmented gunslingers in the system. That you even blew a cyborg's brains out in a high noon showdown."
 
"Stories have a way of making a man seem more than he is, but maybe that's true. You don't look like you're here to get your picture taken with the big bad cowboy though."
 
"I'm not. I want to duel you."
 
"Is that a fact? And what put an idea like that into your pretty little head?"
 
"Don't make fun of me, Mr. Roth. I'll put up a hundred thousand credits -- and they're yours, win or lose. Yours or your next of kin's. If you win, you can have my ship as well."
 
"Sit down."
 
"I-"
 
"If you want to discuss putting a bullet in my head or my heart, you'll do it civilized like. Sit down."
 
She pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Her right arm rested on the wood and held her burning cigar aloft. It hovered between them, an angry red eye.
 
"You may think we're backward folk around these parts, who'll step into the street and shoot a man or woman without so much as asking their name. And maybe some of us are. But I ain't one of them. So let's start there."
 
"Okay. My name's Jessica Atranx. You might have heard of my father, Gunmaster Duncan."
 
"So I have. A damn good fighter and an even better commander, so they say. Not the kind who'd go into bars looking for duels."
 
"No, he isn't. But I'm not my father. And I never will be, unless he agrees to train me. Do you know what the best gunman in the galaxy gave me for my tenth birthday? A doll. I wanted a gun, to be like him. He was supposed to teach me! But he gave me a doll! And he still thinks that way -- like I'm a child."
 
"Going back to him in a box is a mighty good way of hurting the man, if that's your aim."
 
"I'm my father's daughter, whatever he thinks. And I've trained almost every waking hour for years. No offence, Mr. Roth, but you aren't my equal. No one is unless they're so packed full of cybernetics that they're more robot than human. If we fight, I'll win. And he'll know what I can do."
 
"My mother taught me a lot of things, Miss Atranx. One of them was never to mess with a girl who has problems with her father. Mighty lot of good that bit of wisdom would have done me, if I'd heeded it before now. Doesn't mean it's too late though. I'm sorry, but I ain't interested."
 
"Then I'll make the same offer to every armed man on this planet, and I'll put them all down one by one. You aren't the only gunslinger with a reputation."
 
"You're fixing to get yourself killed, with a crazy notion like that in your head."
 
"You haven't seen me shoot."
 
"Tell you what... I ain't going to so much as contemplate stepping into the street with an angry little girl, no matter who her daddy is. Not unless I know it's a fair fight. But if you prove it to me..."
 
"I will!"
 
"Then let's go somewhere nice and peaceful, and see what you can do. But first... You recall what I said about a fair fight? Well, I've got six shots of bourbon inside me."
 
Jessica Atranx waved her cigar at the nearest barmaid.
 
"Bring me what he had," she said.
 
"That's a mighty tall order for a girl your age," Roth said, when the circular tray was put in front of her.
 
"Like I keep telling my father, I'm not a little girl."
 
She tossed her cigar into the air. It flew end over end, ascending towards the ceiling. Jessica downed the first shot and slammed the glass onto the table. The cigar fell, still spinning. The burning end landed in the glass with a soft hiss. She smirked and drained the other five glasses.
 
"You drink like a gunslinger, at least," Roth said. "Come with me."
 
***
 
"Cans? You shoot at cans?"
 
The two of them stood beneath a purple-black sky and its smattering of stars. Lazy little clouds of dust blew around their boots. In the distance was a fence, on which rested six metal cans -- their outlines faint and labels indiscernible in the gloom.
 
"We ain't fancy here," Roth said. "But we know what good shooting is. Reckon you could stand here and drop all six with that iron of yours?"
 
"Of course."
 
"Then let's see it."
 
Jessica took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked towards each can in turn. Then her hand twitched. The revolver almost flew into her grasp, and roared. Six reports echoed across the dusty field. Six cans flew away, cast out into the night.
 
There was a seventh bang. This time a scream followed it.
 
"I'll be taking that, if you don't mind," Roth said.
 
He blew the smoke from the end of his barrel, crouched, and snatched Jessica's gun. She clutched her right knee and moaned.
 
"You bastard! You goddamn cheating bastard!"
 
"I bet your daddy never would have fallen for that. And it ain't cheating when there are no rules. I never said we'd duel." He tossed her gun aside and reached into his duster's deep pocket. "Put this on the wound."
 
Roth tossed her a wound-seal pack. She stared it at and then at him.
 
"That's right. I didn't bring you out here to bury you in the dirt. Mighty hard work, digging a good grave. And you're in no condition to do it for me. Put that on."
 
Jessica glared at him, her eyes dark diamonds that never left his face. But she applied the pack.
 
"We're going to take another walk," he said. "Don't worry. I'll help you along..."
 
***
 
"That smell..." she said.
 
A foul odor assaulted them both. It was a vile, chemical stench that all but smothered the stink of rotting corpse flesh. Something bubbled in the darkness. Roth tapped the side of a tall metal pole set in the ground, and the lamp at its apex flashed into brilliance. It bathed the horrific tableau in light.
 
Jessica held her breath.
 
A dozen yards in front of them was a large square pit. Viscous green liquid seethed and popped inside it, along with a legion of dead bathers. Skeletal limbs and visages -- many still crowned by cowboy hats -- protruded here and there, some half-draped over the edges as though they'd tried to pull themselves free from the corrosive hell. Scarred and twisted birds hopped around them, ripping at tiny scraps of flesh with ruined beaks.
 
"Come here," Roth said.
 
He grabbed Jessica's arm and dragged her along, ignoring her struggles.
 
"No! No! Get off me! I-"
 
"I ain't brought you here to toss you in, if that's what you're thinking. Grant's mighty particular about who we throw in his corpse pit."
 
She stopped fighting, either because she believed him or because she'd accepted the inevitable. If Marshal Roth wanted her dead he could just pull the trigger and kick her body the rest of the way.
 
"You ever shoot anyone before?" he asked.
 
"I-"
 
"Don't lie to a man with a gun in his hand and a heap of dead at his feet."
 
"No. Never."
 
"Thought not. Shooting targets ain't the same. I don't care how fancy they are. Killing's no game. Look at them. Look!" He tugged her arm until she stared down at the grinning faces and clawing hands. "See the hole in that one's head? That's what a bullet does. Shot him down in the street, like he wanted to do to me. Like you wanted to do to me. Made a corpse, a widow, and three fatherless kids with the same bullet."
 
Jessica opened her mouth, words on her tongue. But she closed it again and gazed in silence.
 
"Next time you think about shooting a man, you remember this place. Because sometimes it's worth it, sometimes it ain't. But it's never a game. If you want to get back at your daddy, you marry a Blob Beast. Don't you dare go around putting good men and women in the ground because of it."
 
She didn't protest when Roth heaved her onto his shoulder and carried her to the town doctor.
 

05:59, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 
"That girl's come mighty far since then. But I reckon she still remembers that night, and the faces bobbing in the corpse pit."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Ayesha Breaks Free

2013-11-09T11:53:43Z

Ham: Created page with "This one's the kid's," Susie said. "Ayesha Vall." "Isn't she a bit young to be sabotaging ships?" Remmler asked. "Probably. But orders are orders." ..."

This one's the kid's," Susie said. "Ayesha Vall."
 
"Isn't she a bit young to be sabotaging ships?" Remmler asked.
 
"Probably. But orders are orders."
 
The door opened, revealing the brand of apocalypse which only a teenage girl can create. Articles of clothing were strewn about the room. Some lay in pools on the floor, forming a colorful wasteland of cloth and leather. Others were draped over every single piece of furniture. Sweater arms and pants legs dangled like the tentacles of lethargic monsters.
 
"Maybe someone planted a bomb in her trunk," Remmler said.
 
Susie sighed. The two of them picked their way through the debris, examining each garment and accessory. Remmler opened her trunk. He reached inside and tapped.
 
"False bottom," he said. "It's locked. The old-fashioned way."
 
"Move aside."
 
Susie pulled out her lockpicks. She didn't often have a chance to use the archaic tools, and an opportunity was always welcome. It only took a little fumbling. The lock clicked open, and she pulled the cover aside. Remmler leaned over her shoulder.
 
The two of them whistled.
 
"You've got to be kidding me..." he said.
 
***
 
"I guess I'll tell one," Ayesha said.
 
She looked around, daring anyone to challenge her. But there were only indulgent smiles and nods. The girl grunted, clinking her nose rings.
 
05:53, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 

"One day all this will be yours," Aubrey Vall said.
 
"Whatever..." Ayesha yawned and picked her nails. God, her uncle was so boring...
 
"This isn't a laughing manner!"
 
"I wasn't laughing. I was yawning. Can I go now?"
 
"Ayesha Millicent Vall!" her aunt said. "Your uncle is trying to teach you about the family business! When you're older-"
 
"Feels like I'm already a year older than when we started this crap."
 
"Go to your room!"
 
"Finally!"
 
Ayesha left the balcony, stomped through her uncle's study, and tried to slam the door behind her. The door's sensors prevented such uncouthness, however. She had to make do with kicking it a couple of times from the outside instead. This hurt her foot, and did little to improve her mood.
 
A petite, grey-haired woman accosted her in the corridor.
 
"Ayesha! You missed your military history lesson! We were supposed to be studying the Battle of Arginusae!"
 
"I don't care!"
 
"But-"
 
"Did we lose?"
 
"What? No, this planet wasn't even-"
 
"Then why'd I need to know about it?"
 
"Because-"
 
Ayesha had already rounded the corner. The teacher's annoying voice faded into a humph of displeasure. The girl liked that sound. It always told her she'd won. With that victory fresh in her soul, she ignored the bowing menials whose constant attentions always aggravated her, made her way to her bedroom, and threw herself onto the bed.
 
The bed's advanced systems shifted the mattress around her body in an attempt to maximize her comfort. She punched it until it stopped. Everything in this stupid house thought it knew what was best for her -- even the damn bed. As was often the case, this displeased her. Even the morose girl in the mirror, who shared her discontent, was proving vexing. So Ayesha grabbed a hefty, jewel encrusted box from her bedside table and threw it at the mirror. But a small droid whirred into life, shot across the intervening space, and caught it. The teenager swore. She couldn't even break stuff!
 
Ayesha slumped back down on the mattress and waved at the entertainment center. A huge holographic screen opened above her. It displayed a number of unicorns in bright primary and secondary colors. They appeared to be engaged in some kind of absurd adventure.
 
"Why are you playing this crap?" she asked.
 
A holographic teddy bear appeared next to the screen. It floated parallel with the girl below, like the galaxy's most ridiculous ghost.
 
"But, Ayesh, you used to love this show!"
 
"God, update your stupid protocols! I don't watch kid's stuff anymore! Put something better on, or I'll cut your face off and juggle with it!"
 
"Golly, Ayesh! That isn't a nice thing to say!"
 
"Oh, go fuc-"
 
"Anti-swear mode activated! La la la la la la la la la la la la la la!"
 
Ayesha now remembered why she seldom watched TV in her bedroom. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at the bear. However, gravity was on the bear's side. The pillow rippled through his body and fell back down on her face. This did little to improve her disposition.
 
"Don't you have another AI? Something that isn't a total loser?"
 
"Yes, but your uncle and aunt approved me as the most wholesome and suitable-"
 
"Screw them! Give me a better AI or I'll delete your files!"
 
"But-"
 
"Now!"
 
The bear blurred and flickered. Its body bulged outwards and morphed, until it settled into the shape of a walrus.
 
"Walruses are stupid! Try again!"
 
"Perhaps if you requested parameters..." the walrus said.
 
"Something cool!"
 
"We walruses often live in temperatures that-"
 
"Don't try to be cute! You know what I meant!"
 
The walrus blurred and reformed into the image of a handsome teenage boy with a gleaming white grin, strawberry blond hair, and the musculature of a stylized marble statue.
 
"Lame! If I saw a guy like that I'd stab him for being a douchebag."
 
"Understood. Enhancing and adapting."
 
The image flashed. The boy's face aged half a decade in a split-second. His hair lengthened and darkened into a splash of unkempt blackness. His jacket hardened into leather, studded with metal spikes. The offensive whiteness left his teeth. Tattoos inscribed themselves on his flesh. Jewelry took shape in his ears and eyebrows.
 
"I think I like this one," she said.
 
"I don't give a damn what you like, kid. Just tell me what you want or piss off."
 
"Put something on."
 
"Oh, that's nice and specific."
 
"Something I'll like."
 
"Oh, crap! Really? I thought you'd want me to put on a show you'd hate. Thanks for narrowing it down."
 
"You're kind of a jerk."
 
"Welcome to teenage sarcasm mode. Parameters: you."
 
"Put on something my aunt and uncle would hate."
 
"There's a rock concert on Drekchester. They're raising money for addicts."
 
"To get them off chems?"
 
"No, to buy them more chems."
 
"Let's see it."
 
The unicorns were flung into the ether. A new picture replaced them on the big screen. It showed a stage, filled with smoke and zapping laser lights. A Piscarian woman in leather garb stood in the midst of this spectacle. She held a guitar in her hands as though it were a weapon of war. Her fingers slashed across the strings, and she sang.
 
"Get out of my way, get out of my life,
Out of my face or your balls are on my knife!
Try to hold me back, make me deal with your crap?
I'm not a Japanese schoolgirl for your tentacle wrap!
 
I'll do what I want, screw you and die!
I'll do what I want, even get really high!
Do what I want!
Do what I want!
 
My parents tried it first, I told them to sod off,
Think I'm gonna take it from a stupid wanker toff?
Reckon you're better than me? Tell me what to do?
Shoot you with my blaster till you're a puddle of pink goo!"
 
"She sucks, huh?" the AI said.
 
"She's awesome!" Ayesha said. "And she's right."
 
"Huh? About what?"
 
"About everything! Those jerks can't push me around. Screw the family business. I'm getting off this stupid planet."
 
"Good luck with that. How're you going to get out of here without anyone noticing?"
 
"Are you connected to the rest of the systems in this place?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"Then help me out, douchebag."
 
"Fine. A one way trip to the spaceport coming up. Just follow me..."
 

05:53, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 
"So I took some of my parents' stuff. You know, for memories and junk. Then I snuck out and went to the spaceport. And this piece of crap ship was there. Knew I should have gone with those pirates instead..."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Salim and The Devil

2013-11-09T11:49:28Z

Ham: Created page with "Salim Khan," Susie said. "I like his suit," Remmler said. "Bright red? It's a fashion disaster!" "Maybe after we get paid, I'll get one myself..." <..."

Salim Khan," Susie said.
 
"I like his suit," Remmler said.
 
"Bright red? It's a fashion disaster!"
 
"Maybe after we get paid, I'll get one myself..."
 
"Good thinking. In gunfights the enemies can all aim for the red guy."
 
The door to the cabin opened. Remmler snorted and followed Susie inside.
 
"He brought his own carpet," Remmler said. He pointed at the dark green rectangle in the middle of his room. Arabic characters danced across the fabric in calligraphic swirls. At the far end a black cubic structure was depicted, surrounded by a sea of white-clad worshippers. "Weird."
 
"It's a prayer rug, idiot."
 
Susie Unette picked up a datapad from the bedside table while he rummaged through the drawers. It was password and retina scan protected, but her electronic toolkit took care of that. The pad opened and yielded its secrets. There were several books on the device, including a copy of the Quran in both Arabic and English, and vast quantities of emails. Susie flicked through some of these -- enough to get an impression of the man without violating more of his privacy than she had to. Many were from his mother. They included pleas for Salim to stop drinking and gambling, accompanied by religious quotations and warnings of damnation. Terms such as "nice girl" and "arranged marriage" were also sprinkled throughout these maternal missives. Other emails were from his employers in the Contella Consortium. Those were rather more colorful and amusing in their language, but they contained little of interest.
 
There were photographs as well. In one of them Salim Khan posed with a Tommy gun. Susie recognized the weapon he'd turned over for safekeeping upon boarding the ship.
 
"Looks like he's who he says he is," Susie said. "Let's finish up and keep moving."
 
***
 
"I saw Iblis," Salim said.
 
"Ib-what?" Casper said.
 
"Iblis. Shaitan. The devil."
 
"Preposterous!" Mrs. Bassingthwaighte said. "Satan was the invention of superstitious peasants on ancient Earth!"
 
"I used to believe that too..."
 
05:49, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 

"Which store are we hitting?" Salim asked.
 
His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, like they always did before a job. It helped keep him centered. Behind him, hidden from the outside world by tinted smart windows, three men and a woman checked their weapons and their disguises.
 
"No store," Imran said. He slotted a power pack into his blaster pistol. It went home with a soft click. "This time we're going for a ransom."
 
"What the hell? I told you I didn't want to-"
 
"Why'd you think we didn't tell you?" Samina asked.
 
The men grinned. Khalid slapped Salim's shoulder with a meaty hand, numbing the driver's arm all the way down to his wrist.
 
"We're robbers," Salim said, "not kidnappers!"
 
"These people are loaded," Imran said. "We'll make way more from this job than knocking over a million kebab shops or corner stores."
 
"But-"
 
"Just do your job and shut up!"
 
"It's okay," Samina said. She cocked her assault rifle. "When Sal gets his share of the creds, he'll stop whining."
 
The vehicle's doors opened and slammed closed, leaving Salim alone. He drove his palms against the wheel and spewed out a stream of Punjabi profanities.
 
"Anjam heard it from Fazan Mahmood," Imran said. "The bastard's bought a restaurant on the Curry Kilometer. The only crime he's doing anymore is food poisoning."
 
"Fat Faze? How many chems did he sell for that?" Salim asked.
 
"It wasn't chems. It was that van he ripped off in Karachi."
 
"Huh? That was a screw up. He thought it was full of guns, but it was just crap for the museum. How'd he make any credits out of that cock-up?"
 
"A bunch of religious nuts wanted something from the van. They paid a fortune for it."
 
Salim whistled.
 
"Some bastards have all the luck," he said.
 
"And some cults have more money than sense. So how about we get our share?"
 
The conversation replayed itself in Salim's head, punctuated by assorted swearwords, until the click of an opening door dragged him back to the present. He jerked round, reaching for his gun.
 
"Relax, Sal!" Samina said.
 
Imran came next, pushing a slim, freckled, redheaded girl into the car. There was a splatter of blood across her blue blouse -- the exact same shade as her hair. The others piled in after them. Anjam has holding his arm with crimson fingers.
 
"What happened?" Salim asked.
 
"A kanjar cop shot at us," Anjam said. "Imran made us go before I could blast his brains out!"
 
"How bad-"
 
"Shut up and drive!" Imran said.
 
Salim turned around, swore, and hit the accelerator.
 
***
 
"Pretty," Khalid said. "If they don't pay, give her to me and I'll get our money's worth out of her!"
 
The girl stared up at him. She was trembling. Salim didn't blame her -- not with her arms and legs tied to the armchair, and that ugly face leering down at her.
 
"It's okay," he said. "No one's going to hurt you."
 
"Right," Samina said. "As soon as your people pay up, we'll let you go. They're rich. What we're asking's nothing to them."
 
"You don't know who we are," the girl said. "Please, just let me go, before..."
 
"Before what?" Salim asked.
 
"Before they send him. He'll kill you all!"
 
Anjam looked from the girl to Imran, his eyes wide. He scratched his sealed wound.
 
"What's she talking about?" he said. "Who does she work for?"
 
"The most powerful force in the galaxy," she said.
 
"Yeah?" Khalid snorted. "Here's a more powerful one!"
 
His bulging, chem-enhanced muscles flexed when he grabbed his groin. The girl flinched away, tugging at her bonds. Khalid laughed.
 
***
 
The young, freckled face looked up at Salim through cold eyes.
 
"He's coming," she said, "and he'll kill you all. KILL! YOU! ALL!"
 
She burst into laughter.
 
"Sal! Get up!"
 
Salim Khan's eyes flicked open. He groped for the gun under his pillow, but strong fingers grabbed his wrist.
 
"Chutiya! It's me!" Anjam said. "Your turn to watch the girl!"
 
"Oh..."
 
Salim shrugged him off, stood up, and stretched his protesting muscles. The sleeping mats they used in their safe houses left a lot to be desired. Anjam went to his own mat. He was snoring before Salim had even left the room.
 
The lounge was quiet and dark, its lighting dimmed. Their prisoner's fiery hair was the brightest thing in the room. She turned to Salim when he entered, and for an awful moment he expected the same cold eyes and chilling words from his dream. But there was nothing on her face but resignation.
 
"Hi," he said. The greeting seemed stupid even as he spoke it, but it was hardly a situation he knew how to handle. How were you supposed to greet a woman you'd kidnapped?
 
"Hi." A faint smile crossed her mouth. Perhaps she understood the insane awkwardness of the situation too.
 
"Are you... okay?"
 
"No. A bunch of armed criminals snatched me off the street and tied me to a chair. You should call the police..."
 
She gave a dry, parched cough.
 
"Water?" he asked.
 
The girl nodded.
 
Salim went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. He came back with a glass of cold water that he proffered to her for a second -- before realizing that she had no way of grabbing it. Instead he held it up to her lips. She took several short, quick sips.
 
"Thanks," she said.
 
He moved to the couch and put the glass down on a table.
 
"Did Anjam give you any food?"
 
"No. But it's okay. I'm not hungry."
 
They sat in silence for a while. Salim glanced at the TV and wondered if he should put something on to mask their mutual discomfort.
 
"I'm sorry," she said.
 
"Huh?" For an instant he thought he'd misheard. "Sorry?"
 
"My people can be generous to anyone who helps us. But they won't pay a ransom. They'll send someone instead, and he'll... Please, let me go. You don't know what you've done."
 
He stared into her eyes, searching for desperate bravado, for deception. There was only sincerity.
 
"They'll pay," he said. "Imran knows how to scare people."
 
She sighed. Salim didn't know what to say, so he activated the TV's holo-screen and flicked through the channels until he found a marathon of old Super Slaughter reruns. He was still watching the televised carnage when Khalid's massive frame lumbered into the room.
 
"My turn, Sal," he said.
 
The girl looked from Khalid to Salim. Her eyes pled.
 
"I'm watching this," Salim said. "I can take your shift."
 
Khalid scowled. He crossed over to the other couch and sat down. Salim bit the inside of his cheek, like he always did when he was nervous. The TV blared. He kept looking from the screen to Khalid, and each time met two glowering, bloodshot eyes that made him avert his gaze. The veins in the big man's neck were throbbing. Whatever chems he was taking these days, he'd injected a fresh hit. That was bad. It always put him in a foul temper.
 
Khalid's glare shifted between the screen and the girl. His hand crept down to his crotch. She glanced at Salim, and again her eyes begged him for help. Khalid followed her gaze. His biceps bulged against his shirt's loose sleeves. His neck seemed to convulse, as though it was on the verge of exploding and launching his head into orbit.
 
Minutes passed. They might have been hours. Then Khalid got up and went to her. She shuddered.
 
"Khal..." Salim said.
 
The big man said nothing. He dropped to one knee, like a lover on the verge of a proposal. One huge hand clasped the girl's thigh. The other reached for her breast. She squealed.
 
"Khal! Get off her, you bastard! Khal!"
 
Khalid's head snapped round. His eyes were almost all red now, twin pools of blood that reflected the screen's brutality and let it drown in their crimson depths. His neck, arms, and pectorals all pulsed. His entire body was one giant beating heart.
 
"Shut up, or I'll rip your head off and take a crap down the hole!"
 
He turned back to the girl, thick tongue dropping out between his jaws. She mouthed the word 'help'. Salim snatched up the glass of water and launched himself off the couch.
 
Khalid didn't even look around. Not till the glass shattered on the side of his head, and the shards tore at his flesh.
 
"Bastard!" he roared. "Kanjar bastard!"
 
A huge, muscle-laden arm swung round. It crashed into Salim's jaw and sent him flying. His back slammed against the floor, pain thundering through his spine. Something hard fell down his throat and nearly choked him. A distant part of his mind, beyond the bright explosions in his head, recognized it as a tooth.
 
Khalid's dusky, demonic face loomed up through the haze. His cheek hung from his skull like a piece of butchered meat. Blood rained down in torrents.
 
"Khal! Sal!"
 
Light flooded the room. Samina stood in the doorway, clad in a dressing gown. Imran was behind her in his boxer shorts. Anjam brought up the rear -- still fully dressed, his shirt and pants rumpled by sleep.
 
"What the hell?" Imran stormed past her and grabbed Khalid's arm. "You're-"
 
"Get off me!"
 
Khalid swung at him. It was a clumsy, savage blow. Imran ducked and shuffled backwards.
 
"Khal!" Samina had a pistol leveled in both hands. "Get away from him, you crazy bastard!"
 
"He glassed me! He fuc-"
 
"He tried to..." the hostage cried. Tears ran down her cheeks. "He... he..."
 
"So what?" Khalid thumped his chest like an ape. "Who cares if I have a bit of fun with her? I wasn't going to kill her!"
 
Imran, Anjam, and Samina looked at one another. Salim groaned. He read the expressions on their faces. They didn't care what happened to the girl, as long as they got their creds. And Khalid -- big, dangerous Khalid -- was too important to antagonize. They'd side with him. Unless...
 
"Idiot!" Salim sat up and spat out a stream of blood. "If word gets out that we do that to our hostages, think everyone'll just hand over their creds? They'll kill us! Cut our goddamn balls off, like what happened to that pervert Haroun!"
 
"He's right," Imran said. "Khal, go to the bathroom and let Samina fix your face."
 
"I want-" Khalid said.
 
"I don't give a crap what you want! Get your face fixed and go back to bed! Anjam, Salim, you watch her."
 
Khalid roared and stormed off.
 
***
 
The others were all in the lounge with the girl when Salim woke up. He'd stayed up after Anjam had fallen asleep, and sat with the prisoner until Samina and Imran came in with the morning light. He'd done his best to calm her down. Then he'd grabbed an hour or so of rest. It wasn't nearly enough. His eyes were heavy, and his head ached.
 
Khalid glared at him from the couch and grunted. His eyes were less bloodshot now, and his muscles weren't convulsing.
 
The girl gave him a faint smile.
 
"Get breakfast," Imran said. "Then we're going out. Her cult sent a message -- they want to meet. You're driving me and Khal."
 
Salim just nodded, and went into the kitchen. He rooted through the cupboards for something soft enough for his abused mouth. He was reaching for an old, brown banana when the crash came.
 
The banter in the next room turned into screams.
 
Salim pressed himself against the wall and glanced round the arched doorway. The house's security door lay flat on the carpet. Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating his friends, the girl, and a terrible black specter with burning blue eyes.
 
Khalid jumped at the intruder, brawny fists swinging. A fast, crisp kick splintered his ribs. The sound of tearing muscle and crunching bone made vomit rise in the back of Salim's throat. He pressed his hand to his mouth to hold it in. Khalid tottered, doubled over. The ebon fiend grabbed him in a front headlock and wrenched. The crack shuddered through Salim's whole body.
 
The black creature swept through the room like a djinn, a whirlwind of supernatural force and eternal malevolence. Anjam went for his gun. He died with it still in its holster, gurgling through a crushed throat. Imran moved in front of Samina. One punch shattered his temple. The next launched Samina's screaming form through the air.
 
Salim ducked back from the doorway as her body flew into the room. She smashed against the fridge, denting the white metal. Samina collapsed at its foot, leaving a red smear in her wake. She blinked at him once and was still.
 
He closed his eyes and uttered a wordless prayer, entreating the being he'd never addressed since childhood.
 
"Are there any others?" asked a voice. No... Not a voice. Two voices -- one with a strange accent, the other an ominous growl.
 
"No. That's all of them," the girl said.
 
Salim held his breath.
 
There was a loud noise, almost a... Yes... A sniff. The djinn, the demon, the monster, was sniffing the air like a beast. Searching for a scent. For a victim...
 
"You are certain?" the double voice said.
 
"Yes. Let's go..."
 
Salim stayed frozen for several minutes. Then he slumped against the wall and wept.
 

05:49, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 
"That night I bought a prayer rug and a Quran," Salim said. "Because if Iblis exists, a man needs better protection than guns or armor."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/First Love

2013-11-09T11:36:53Z

Ham: Created page with "Susie Unette stopped in the corridor, beside one of the cabin doors, and looked down at her datapad. "Maurice Hornung," she said. "The British guy?" Remmler..."

Susie Unette stopped in the corridor, beside one of the cabin doors, and looked down at her datapad.
 

"Maurice Hornung," she said.
 
"The British guy?" Remmler asked.
 
"I think he's Novocastrian."
 
"Whatever. I don't trust men who talk all funny like that one."
 
Susie tapped a sequence of buttons on the pad. The door's electronic lock recognized the override signal and yielded. A red light blinked green, then the tough metal moved aside -- ensconcing itself within its berth in the bulkhead.
 
The crewmen entered the small, neat chamber. Remmler Wuln made straight for its other door and disappeared inside the adjoining bathroom. The sound of liquid splashing into liquid made Susie wince.
 
"Couldn't you have done that in your own cabin?"
 
"Can't fight nature."
 
"Hope you're aiming better than you do at the range. Hornung didn't pay his creds to walk in your piss."
 
"Just look around, like the captain said."
 
Susie cast her gaze about the room, scanning its meager contents. A paperback novel rested on the table by the bunk. Its pages were yellowed, either by genuine age or by design. Some hardcopy readers printed them that way. The cover depicted a shadowy, indistinct figure creeping out of a window -- leaving a well-dressed corpse stretched out on the carpet behind him. Susie riffled through the volume but found only pages of printed text. She set it back down exactly as she'd found it.
 
The toilet in the next room flushed. Its churning accompanied Remmler through the doorway.
 
"Found anything?" he asked.
 
He reached for the novel. Susie slapped his wrist.
 
"Wash your hands! He doesn't want his stuff smelling like your prick."
 
Remmler grunted, but he went back into the bathroom. Water ran from the faucet. When he returned a few moments later, he was rubbing his hands on his thighs -- darkening the khaki.
 
Susie pulled a black suitcase from under the bunk. It wasn't locked, and opened to disclose a number of garments folded with meticulous care. She removed each item, placing them on the mattress one by one.
 
"What's that?" Remmler pointed at a disc of black fabric.
 
"Collapsible top hat," she said.
 
"La de da. Guess he's one of Frank and Casper's sort."
 
"Because he knows how to dress nice?"
 
"Yeah!"
 
"Did your mother screw any Niflungs before you were born?"
 
The case contained a few more paperbacks. All old mystery novels, from the lurid covers and titles. But a strange taste in literature didn't prove Maurice Hornung was a saboteur. So Susie repacked the case and pushed it back under the bunk. The two of them scoured the rest of the room, but found nothing suspicious.
 
"I still don't trust that guy," Remmler said, as they stepped back into the corridor. "Decent folk don't dress all prim and proper like that."
 
***
 
"I might have a story or two up my sleeve, old boy. Anything to liven up this drab gathering of ours."
 
The drunk continued to drowse under his hat, but everyone else in the mess hall turned to the handsome man in the immaculate attire. Even Ayesha deigned to stare up at him -- albeit with an expression that told of sarcasm waiting to be born. Mrs. Bassingthwaighte looked at him askance.
 
"I trust it will be suitable for my son to hear?"
 
"Of course, madam. Perhaps a heartwarming tale of a boy's first love?"
 
She snorted.
 
05:36, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 

"Thomas."
 
Emma's hair was spun gold. It captured the sunlight from the classroom's lofty window and drew it in, turning each lock into a priceless gleaming treasure.
 
"Thomas?"
 
Her skin was ivory, pure and unblemished. A smile began at the corner of her mouth. It promised to bathe the world in its radiance.
 
"Thomas!"
 
"Oh..."
 
Two dozen faces were turned towards him. Emma Wilbraham's sapphire eyes met his, and her lips began to part. Thomas blushed. His gaze snapped to the front of the room, where Miss Kirkham stood with her arms folded.
 
"You weren't paying attention!"
 
"I... I was! I..."
 
"Then answer the question."
 
"Um... Hubris?"
 
"Wilfred Owen wrote the poem because of... hubris?" The teacher blinked at him.
 
"Oh! He... I mean, yes. He was caught up in his own suffering, and thought it was the most important thing in the world. That's hubris."
 
"I suppose a person could interpret it that way..."
 
Miss Kirkham's hawk-like gaze and questions swooped on another unsuspecting pupil, leaving Thomas to exhale. When it came to English literature class, 'hubris' tended to work more often than not.
 
The schoolboy's gaze crept back to the vision of aureate beauty. It lingered there till the bell rang.
 
***
 
"Isn't it marvelous?" Josie Egerton asked.
 
The holographic image hovered above the gaggle of girls, projected from their leader's phone. They tilted their heads back and cooed as though witnessing a divine revelation inscribed upon the heavens.
 
"Father says I can wear it at the Michaelmas Ball," she continued.
 
Gasps and simpers joined the coos. Some of the girls seemed on the verge of swooning. Thomas found them ridiculous, but even his eye was drawn to the floating treasure. It was a pendant -- a magnificent work of gold, platinum, and precious gemstones. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires contrived to form the image of a phoenix, the bird on the Egerton family crest. By all rights anything fashioned from so many stones should have seemed garish. A gaudy monstrosity better suited to nouveau riche gangsters or celebrities whose creds far outstripped any semblance of taste or propriety. Yet the work was exquisite. The extended wings, the proud head and noble beak... All those jewels celebrated and enhanced these things rather than overwhelming them.
 
The phoenix rotated, preening itself before the awestruck audience. Each slow, elegant spin brought fresh moans of delight from Josie's flock. But Thomas was looking beyond them now. Emma stood beneath one of the oaks that lined the school playing fields, her golden hair a rich fire that seemed to inflame the autumn leaves. They bore tales and echoes of her loveliness through the branches -- scattering them far and wide as they performed their deciduous duty.
 
His breath caught in his throat. But her blue eyes were fastened on the pendant's simulacrum, gazing and yearning. That gave him courage. He could understand desire, understand it and share.
 
Thomas went to her side.
 
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said.
 
He waited for her to brush him off with a curt, dismissive word. But instead she spoke in a soft, dreamy voice.
 
"I'd treasure it..."
 
Thomas' mind reeled, searching for a way to capitalize on this unexpected opening, to harness the sudden sincerity.
 
"I could get it for you," he said. His tongue spoke the words before his brain comprehended their stupidity. "I... I mean..."
 
Emma's beautiful sapphires transfixed him. He expected to read mockery there, but saw only eagerness.
 
"You'd do that? For me?"
 
"But... You'd never be able to wear it! Everyone would know!"
 
"I don't care. I'd still have it. It'd be mine. Even if I could only put it on... in private."
 
Her mouth shaped the final word with such immaculate care that it became a promise and captured Thomas in its inescapable web. His own promise followed, folly made nobility by two soft blue gems.
 
***
 
"Show me again," Thomas said.
 
Simmons, the butler, favored him with an indulgent smile.
 
"Once more," he said. "Then I have to bring your mother her tea. I used to show you this one when you were a boy. Do you remember?"
 
"Which-" Thomas began.
 
The schoolboy blinked. His eyes widened. The tie which had been fastened around his neck now dangled from the butler's hand.
 
"But that's..."
 
"Impossible? Very little is, if you're fast and confident, and understand the way people see and think. Now if you'll excuse me, Thomas..."
 
He set the tie on the table, lifted the tray of fine china and cream-filled scones on his fingertips, and glided from the room. Thomas stared at the snaking fabric for some minutes. Thoughts both frightening and enticing danced in his mind.
 
At first he'd imagined breaking into the Egerton mansion, of circumventing its security measures, cracking the safe, and absconding with his treasure. But even in his wildest fantasies -- those that began with nocturnal prowling and ended with golden waves, blue eyes, and ruby lips -- he knew how foolish it was. The mansion's defenses would thwart a professional burglar. And he was nothing of the sort. Then another inkling had teased his besotted mind. Simmons, the family butler, had once been a master stage magician. The majordomo's trickery had often delighted Thomas during his younger years.
 
"...fast and confident, and understand the way people see and think."
 
He had until the Michaelmas Ball to learn.
 
***
 
Thomas watched. He'd always been good at watching, and the magnitude of his intent now sharpened that skill. His gloved fingers twitched. Perhaps they yearned to bring all those hours of practice to fruition. Or maybe they wanted to plunge into the pockets of his dress trousers and play no part in this insanity. He didn't know, and wouldn't until the moment came.
 
Darkness shrouded him. He was safe and hidden within its depths. But he couldn't nestle in that soft, secure embrace forever. Speed and sureness would have to serve instead. If cowardice didn't intervene first, didn't drive him off into the night amidst the shame of failure.
 
Josie and her coterie basked in the soft illumination behind the hall. The boys were black sentinels, their dinner jackets all but indistinguishable from one another. Moths around the glorious colored flames of the girls' gowns. A gentle breeze shimmered over sumptuous material, through lavish tresses. It was cooling and soothing after the warmth of the ballroom. But that wasn't why they'd withdrawn. Glowing cigarettes hung from the mouths of boys and girls alike, incongruous adornments. The delivery systems of the designer drugs their parents and teachers railed against. Hipflasks marked with coats of arms passed from hand to hand, lip to lip -- bearing expensive scotch and brandy to drown the lingering traces of sobriety.
 
The heiress of the Egerton family was in the midst of it all, the brightest star in the firmament. A blue cigarette rose to her lips. Cyan smoke puffed from its end. After the second breath it turned orange, and her eyes twitched at the release of new sensations. The pendant glittered on the perfect tanned flesh of her neck. A priceless treasure nestled amidst drifting smoke and drunken chatter.
 
Thomas didn't belong in such company. His place in the social hierarchy had long since been established. But other insignificant boys and girls had begun to flit out from the hall's rear doors, keen to linger at the periphery of Josie's empire and feed on whatever scraps of delight drifted out to them. He could join those hangers-on without drawing attention.
 
His body froze. If he left the shadows and moved amongst them, he'd be one step closer to that dreaded point of no return.
 
Gold, sapphires, rubies. Promises.
 
Thomas' brain swam and allowed his legs to lead him onward.
 
He exchanged words with the other minnows. He even managed to laugh and banter, as though his heart wasn't hammering against his ribs. Confidence. Or at least its facade. This was important. But all the while his eyes were on Josie Egerton and her neck. That was safe enough. Lustful boys and envious girls were doing the same on all sides.
 
So many people... It was insane. How could he possibly...
 
"You slut! You... you slut!"
 
The shout tore through the chatter, silencing it. All heads turned towards the tall, muscular boy who staggered in from the gloom. His dinner jacket was disheveled. His bowtie hung from his neck, loose and crumpled. The knuckles of his right hand were red.
 
"Slut!" he repeated.
 
Charles Mordsley... Josie's boyfriend. Thomas cursed himself for not noticing his absence. On a night when so much depended on observation and caution, that shouldn't have escaped his attention. But even as he cursed, he scented the opportunity fate had sent his way. All eyes were on Charles. All of them...
 
"Charlie?" Josie said. "What-"
 
"Ludwig! I know!" Mordsley brandished his bruised and bloody knuckles. "I know!"
 
"I don't know what-"
 
He stormed towards Josie Egerton. One of the boys tried to interpose himself between them, but a shove sent him tottering away. The others took a single look at Charles' face and moved aside.
 
"Slut!"
 
Thomas slipped through the crowd, moving closer and closer. Anticipation burned in his brain.
 
"Charles!" Josie tossed her cigarette aside and stamped her foot. "I-"
 
His bruised hand seized her throat. Josie squealed as the strong, angry fingers dug into her flesh. Gasps gave way to shouts. At last the others moved. Some of the boys and girls grabbed hold of Charles and tried to pull him off. He thrashed and struggled, battering them back with his skull and elbows.
 
It was like a rugby scrum in formal dress. Half the crowd was around Mordsley now, trying to secure a handhold. The others watched, breathless. Except for Thomas. His eyes were on Josie.
 
"Get off me! Get-"
 
They yanked Charles away, and his hand left the girl's reddened throat. An immense grappling match ensued. It existed at the very edge of Thomas' perception, known but ignored. Josie's hand was rising to her injured neck. He glided behind her and moved faster.
 
He'd practiced it so many times. First on a dummy, then with Simmons.
 
Josie's fingers touched her abused flesh. They rubbed and caressed. It was several seconds before she screamed.
 
"My pendant! He snatched my pendant!"
 
Her accusing finger jabbed at Charles, half-obscured amidst the other overdressed wrestlers. Meanwhile Thomas walked back into the shadows.
 
***
 
Emma opened the door before he rang the bell. Her blue eyes were vast lakes, their gleaming waters both troubled and excited. She put her finger to her lips and pulled him inside.
 
They went down the hall and up the staircase in silence. Her bedroom door closed behind them, and locks slotted into place -- shielding them from the world. At last she spoke. Her voice was almost breathless.
 
"Rach called me. She said... The pendant. It's missing!"
 
Thomas opened his hand. Precious jewels and metals shimmered in her gaze. She reached for it with slow, hesitant fingers. As though it would vanish or disintegrate the moment she touched it.
 
When it was around her neck, she stood in front of her full-length mirror for perhaps a full minute. She kept it on while they made love. Emma pinned it against her skin with hot fingertips, arresting the magical bird's flight.
 
That night Thomas dreamed. But not about golden hair and ivory flesh. Not even about precious stones or vast riches. He dreamed of that single thrilling moment when the pendant left Josie's neck and slipped into his hand. One day, perhaps soon, Emma would leave him. He knew that. But the magnificent sensation would always be there, as long as he had the courage and confidence to invoke it.
 

05:36, 9 November 2013 (CST)
 
For some seconds no one spoke. The story hung over the group like mist, settling into their minds by degrees. When a voice penetrated the quietness it made all of them flinch.
 
"Fornication, Mr. Hornung?" Mrs. Bassingthwaighte said. "Fornication!?!"
 
"No thank you, madam. I fear it would be wholly inappropriate under these circumstances."
 
The lady's mouth opened, ready to fire but for the moment empty of ammunition. Ayesha grinned. Salim smirked. Casper began to giggle, though he masked it with a cough. Astrid's gaze drifted to young Josh. To her surprise and disquiet, the young boy was trying to suppress laughter.
 
"Your story was... was... inappropriate!" Mrs. Bassingthwaighte said, when she'd reloaded her outrage.
 
"Well, I dinna ken about that," Casper said. "But maybe someone else has a story that'll be a wee bit more to your liking."

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void

2013-11-09T11:29:02Z

Ham:

<tabber>
"Intro"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Intro}}
|-|
"First Love"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/First Love}}
|-|
"Salim and The Devil"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Salim and The Devil}}
|-|
"Ayesha Breaks Free"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Ayesha Breaks Free}}
|-|
"The Gunmaster's Daughter"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/The Gunmaster's Daughter}}
|-|
"The Saboteur"=
{{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/The Saboteur}}

</tabber>

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Intro

2013-11-07T13:09:50Z

Ham:

"Sabotage, ma'am."
 

"You're sure?"
 

Frank Toyotomi got out from under the complex mass of metal. He stood up, snorted, and wiped his hands on his bare torso -- leaving greasy black streaks across thick muscle.
 

"I know this engine better than I know my own pecker," he said, "and I've handled it twice as much. This wasn't a fault. Someone's been tampering."
 

Astrid Jaeger, captain of the Dark Delight, swore. Her fingers curled into fists then extended into talons. The ship's engineer was six inches taller and a foot wider than his employer, but he shrank away from her. He'd seen those slender digits tear an eye from a man's head and the testicles from another's trousers. At the same time.
 

"Who did it?" she asked.
 

"I don't know! The cameras, remember?"
 

He nodded at the room's far corner. Astrid turned, met the dark blue eye's sightless gaze, and swore again.
 

"It was your order, ma'am."
 

She whirled back to him, eyes glinting. Frank stumbled away until his brawny shoulders thudded against the wall.
 

"Shut up!"
 

Astrid took a deep breath, and let the anger drain from her face. The last of it twitched in her fingers -- yearning to seize, rip, mutilate. Toyotomi was right. She'd told them all to deactivate the cameras. To blind those watchful eyes...
 

"Can you fix it?" she asked.
 

"Yeah. But it'll take-"
 

"Do it. Now."
 

"Yes, ma'am."
 

Frank dropped down and rolled back under the engine. Astrid tapped her communicator.
 

"Casp," she said. "We-"
 

"Just a wee minute..." Casper MacAlister's voice sounded in her ear, against a backdrop of incomprehensible babble. "The passengers want to ken why the ship's nae moving."
 

"Because one of the bastards screwed with the engine."
 

"She says it's because one of ye bast... Oh!"
 

Astrid rolled her eyes. At the other end of the connection, a door hissed open and then closed. The cacophony fell silent.
 

"Dae ye ken who did it?" Casper asked.
 

"If I did, they'd be swimming in space with their brains coming out of their ears."
 

"Can we fix it?"
 

"Your husband says he can. But if we start running low on power before that, we'll have to use the distress signal."
 

"With our cargo?"
 

"Listen, get all the passengers into the mess hall and keep them there. I'll have Susie and Remmler search their rooms. One of them did this. I want to know who and why."
 

"What dae we tell them, captain?"
 

"Say there's-"
 

***

"...a problem with the engine," Astrid said. "There's a small chance it's emitting radiation into parts of the ship."
 

One of the passengers gasped. Another swore. A third cast a suspicious glance at the mess hall's sealed doors, as though expecting radioactive particles to storm the room like a barbarian horde sacking ancient Rome.
 

"This is outrageous!" a gaunt, sharp-featured woman said. She hugged her boy to her chest despite his struggles. "I was promised safe passage! You've exposed my son to... to... radiation!"
 

The boy pulled his head away, blinked at his mother, and looked at Astrid.
 

"Does that mean we'll get superpowers?" he asked.
 

Captain Jaeger smiled for an instant, before remembering to adopt a more appropriate look of solemnity.
 

"There's really no danger, Mrs. Bassingthwaighte," she said. "Those doors are safety sealed, and Mr. MacAlister's scans showed that everyone and everything in this room is clean."
 

"Aye, nae even a wee dram of green goo to turn us all into superheroes!"
 

He winked at Josh Bassingthwaighte, who giggled and smiled. His mother glared at Casper until the crewman coughed and looked away.
 

"As soon as we've scanned and purified the entire ship," Astrid continued, "there'll be no further danger to any of you."
 

"It can't be helped, I'm sure," said the handsome gentleman in the dapper suit. His suave accent was British, or Novocastrian. Astrid could never tell the two apart. She tried to grope for the passenger's name, yet couldn't recall it. "But perhaps I could retire to my quarters instead? I'm near the end of the mystery novel I'm reading, and I really must know who murdered the poor fellow."
 

"I'm sorry, but there are safety protocols. I really couldn't allow that."
 

He sighed.
 

"Turn the TV on," said a voice from the corner. "Screaming B's playing a gig on Plerna."
 

Astrid stared at a mop of bushy green hair, an impressive assortment of nose rings, and the face that fought for visibility amongst them. Ayesha. The name had been all but spat at her when she'd tried to introduce herself to a young passenger who looked to be on her first space voyage. The tone and unwelcoming glare had quelled Astrid Jaeger's materteral instincts on the spot, and almost made her slap the girl.
 

"The ship's entertainment systems will nae work without the engine running, lassie," Casper said. "Emergency power's for the essentials. Ye may have heard of a wee thing called life support. It's all the rage on the best ships."
 

Ayesha snorted. Her nasal jewelry clattered like unmelodious wind chimes.
 

"Then how about a game to pass the time?" Salim Khan asked.
 

A deck of playing cards slipped into his left hand. With a flick of his wrist and a blurred twitching of his digits he launched the blue-backed rectangles into the air. Each card spun past his face, making three or four complete rotations as it described a perfect parabola. An instant later the full deck rested in his right hand.
 

"That was awesome!" Josh stared at the dusky man in the same manner an adult might gaze upon his messiah.
 

Salim smirked, while his cards fanned and shifted around his fingers.
 

"Poker, blackjack, quisrat... I'll play anything." His eyes flicked to Astrid, Casper, and the other passengers in turn. "Small stakes, just for fun."
 

"Mr. Khan," Captain Jaeger said, "a long time ago I heard a rumor that a man on my ship was playing with marked cards, cheating people out of their creds. I took his deck and told him I'd shoot him once for every marked card I found."
 

"Oh..." Salim's deck disappeared into the recesses of his garish red jacket.
 

A sound which might have been either a snore or a quiet guffaw emerged from beneath the tilted cowboy hat that concealed the last passenger's face. He sat at a small round table, slumped in an armchair. Six drained glasses stood before him. An empty bottle watched over them like a proud mother, a single brown tear trickling down her smooth cold side.
 

Astrid glanced at Casper, who shrugged his shoulders.
 

"The man asked for bourbon, so I gave him a wee drop."
 

"Got any more?" Ayesha asked.
 

"Not for ye, lassie. Maybe in a few years when you're older."
 

"Probably still be stuck on this heap of junk by then..."
 

Her nose rings chimed once more, and she returned her attention to whatever interesting specimens she could extract from under her black-painted fingernails. A long moment elapsed -- punctuated by sighs, grunts, and exasperated glares. Captain Jaeger cast an appealing look at Casper MacAlister. Had enemies been boarding the ship, she'd have pushed him behind her and handled things. But shooting, swearing, and gouging were less practical when it came to dealing with passengers.
 

"Dae any of ye ken a good story?" he asked.

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Intro

2013-11-07T13:09:31Z

Ham: Created page with ""Sabotage, ma'am." "You're sure?" Frank Toyotomi got out from under the complex mass of metal. He stood up, snorted, and wiped his hands on his bare torso -- leavin..."

"Sabotage, ma'am."

"You're sure?"
 

Frank Toyotomi got out from under the complex mass of metal. He stood up, snorted, and wiped his hands on his bare torso -- leaving greasy black streaks across thick muscle.
 

"I know this engine better than I know my own pecker," he said, "and I've handled it twice as much. This wasn't a fault. Someone's been tampering."
 

Astrid Jaeger, captain of the Dark Delight, swore. Her fingers curled into fists then extended into talons. The ship's engineer was six inches taller and a foot wider than his employer, but he shrank away from her. He'd seen those slender digits tear an eye from a man's head and the testicles from another's trousers. At the same time.
 

"Who did it?" she asked.
 

"I don't know! The cameras, remember?"
 

He nodded at the room's far corner. Astrid turned, met the dark blue eye's sightless gaze, and swore again.
 

"It was your order, ma'am."
 

She whirled back to him, eyes glinting. Frank stumbled away until his brawny shoulders thudded against the wall.
 

"Shut up!"
 

Astrid took a deep breath, and let the anger drain from her face. The last of it twitched in her fingers -- yearning to seize, rip, mutilate. Toyotomi was right. She'd told them all to deactivate the cameras. To blind those watchful eyes...
 

"Can you fix it?" she asked.
 

"Yeah. But it'll take-"
 

"Do it. Now."
 

"Yes, ma'am."
 

Frank dropped down and rolled back under the engine. Astrid tapped her communicator.
 

"Casp," she said. "We-"
 

"Just a wee minute..." Casper MacAlister's voice sounded in her ear, against a backdrop of incomprehensible babble. "The passengers want to ken why the ship's nae moving."
 

"Because one of the bastards screwed with the engine."
 

"She says it's because one of ye bast... Oh!"
 

Astrid rolled her eyes. At the other end of the connection, a door hissed open and then closed. The cacophony fell silent.
 

"Dae ye ken who did it?" Casper asked.
 

"If I did, they'd be swimming in space with their brains coming out of their ears."
 

"Can we fix it?"
 

"Your husband says he can. But if we start running low on power before that, we'll have to use the distress signal."
 

"With our cargo?"
 

"Listen, get all the passengers into the mess hall and keep them there. I'll have Susie and Remmler search their rooms. One of them did this. I want to know who and why."
 

"What dae we tell them, captain?"
 

"Say there's-"
 

***

"...a problem with the engine," Astrid said. "There's a small chance it's emitting radiation into parts of the ship."
 

One of the passengers gasped. Another swore. A third cast a suspicious glance at the mess hall's sealed doors, as though expecting radioactive particles to storm the room like a barbarian horde sacking ancient Rome.
 

"This is outrageous!" a gaunt, sharp-featured woman said. She hugged her boy to her chest despite his struggles. "I was promised safe passage! You've exposed my son to... to... radiation!"
 

The boy pulled his head away, blinked at his mother, and looked at Astrid.
 

"Does that mean we'll get superpowers?" he asked.
 

Captain Jaeger smiled for an instant, before remembering to adopt a more appropriate look of solemnity.
 

"There's really no danger, Mrs. Bassingthwaighte," she said. "Those doors are safety sealed, and Mr. MacAlister's scans showed that everyone and everything in this room is clean."
 

"Aye, nae even a wee dram of green goo to turn us all into superheroes!"
 

He winked at Josh Bassingthwaighte, who giggled and smiled. His mother glared at Casper until the crewman coughed and looked away.
 

"As soon as we've scanned and purified the entire ship," Astrid continued, "there'll be no further danger to any of you."
 

"It can't be helped, I'm sure," said the handsome gentleman in the dapper suit. His suave accent was British, or Novocastrian. Astrid could never tell the two apart. She tried to grope for the passenger's name, yet couldn't recall it. "But perhaps I could retire to my quarters instead? I'm near the end of the mystery novel I'm reading, and I really must know who murdered the poor fellow."
 

"I'm sorry, but there are safety protocols. I really couldn't allow that."
 

He sighed.
 

"Turn the TV on," said a voice from the corner. "Screaming B's playing a gig on Plerna."
 

Astrid stared at a mop of bushy green hair, an impressive assortment of nose rings, and the face that fought for visibility amongst them. Ayesha. The name had been all but spat at her when she'd tried to introduce herself to a young passenger who looked to be on her first space voyage. The tone and unwelcoming glare had quelled Astrid Jaeger's materteral instincts on the spot, and almost made her slap the girl.
 

"The ship's entertainment systems will nae work without the engine running, lassie," Casper said. "Emergency power's for the essentials. Ye may have heard of a wee thing called life support. It's all the rage on the best ships."
 

Ayesha snorted. Her nasal jewelry clattered like unmelodious wind chimes.
 

"Then how about a game to pass the time?" Salim Khan asked.
 

A deck of playing cards slipped into his left hand. With a flick of his wrist and a blurred twitching of his digits he launched the blue-backed rectangles into the air. Each card spun past his face, making three or four complete rotations as it described a perfect parabola. An instant later the full deck rested in his right hand.
 

"That was awesome!" Josh stared at the dusky man in the same manner an adult might gaze upon his messiah.
 

Salim smirked, while his cards fanned and shifted around his fingers.
 

"Poker, blackjack, quisrat... I'll play anything." His eyes flicked to Astrid, Casper, and the other passengers in turn. "Small stakes, just for fun."
 

"Mr. Khan," Captain Jaeger said, "a long time ago I heard a rumor that a man on my ship was playing with marked cards, cheating people out of their creds. I took his deck and told him I'd shoot him once for every marked card I found."
 

"Oh..." Salim's deck disappeared into the recesses of his garish red jacket.
 

A sound which might have been either a snore or a quiet guffaw emerged from beneath the tilted cowboy hat that concealed the last passenger's face. He sat at a small round table, slumped in an armchair. Six drained glasses stood before him. An empty bottle watched over them like a proud mother, a single brown tear trickling down her smooth cold side.
 

Astrid glanced at Casper, who shrugged his shoulders.
 

"The man asked for bourbon, so I gave him a wee drop."
 

"Got any more?" Ayesha asked.
 

"Not for ye, lassie. Maybe in a few years when you're older."
 

"Probably still be stuck on this heap of junk by then..."
 

Her nose rings chimed once more, and she returned her attention to whatever interesting specimens she could extract from under her black-painted fingernails. A long moment elapsed -- punctuated by sighs, grunts, and exasperated glares. Captain Jaeger cast an appealing look at Casper MacAlister. Had enemies been boarding the ship, she'd have pushed him behind her and handled things. But shooting, swearing, and gouging were less practical when it came to dealing with passengers.
 

"Dae any of ye ken a good story?" he asked.

LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void

2013-11-07T13:04:26Z

Ham: Created page with "<tabber> "Intro"= {{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/Intro}} |-| "First Love"= {{:LotS/The Story/Tales of The Void/First Love}} |-| "Salim and The Devil"= {{:LotS/The S..."

LotS/The Story

2013-11-07T13:01:11Z

Ham:

'''The Milky Way'''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Princess_Illaria's_Escape|Princess Illaria's Escape]] (Sian Space) ''The Centurian Collective hunts for Princess Illaria, the last hope of the Sian Empire. Only her champion can save her now.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Legions_of_Steel|Legions of Steel]] (Talos Space) ''Free from the clutches of the Centurians, the Princess and her companions seek aid from TALOS and its robot armies.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Assault on the Zenith|Assault on the Zenith]] (Occupied Sian Space) ''It's time to strike back at the Centurians...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Search for the Princess|The Search for the Princess]] ''The Princess had disappeared, whisked away from the Zenith in a flash of light. But she's out there somewhere, and you'll find her even if you have to tear the galaxy apart.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Politics of War|Politics of War]] (Sol) ''Perhaps it's fitting that the fate of human space might be decided upon Earth, mankind's ancient homeworld.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Aphrodisian Anabasis|Aphrodisian Anabasis]] ''War makes strange bedfellows. And so the Princess must journey to Cythera, the Contella vice-world, to secure that faction's aid against Centurians.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Right Tools|The Right Tools]] ''A mission as ambitious as the one you're planning can only succeed if you have the proper assets at the ready.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/A Masterful Stratagem|A Masterful Stratagem]] ''The Centurians are untouchable while the Emperor is in their grasp. It's time to rectify that...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Scaean_Gates|Scean Gates]] ''She's gone. Now there's nothing left but vengeance.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Because I'm The Wanderer|Because I'm The Wanderer]] ''The galaxy is so vast. So much space to lose yourself in...''
# [[LotS/The_Story/Talia's Team|Talia's Team]] ''If she fumbles, her first match might be her last.''
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Prince & The Pixels|The Prince & The Pixels]] ''Videogames are dangerous. But so's Telemachus.
# [[LotS/The_Story/The Saga of Drunken Ragnar|The Saga of Drunken Ragnar]] ''All good stories start with a drink...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Lu Bu's Halloween|Lu Bu's Halloween]] ''Halloween's for killing and candy. Lu Bu can't eat candy...
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays|A. Puny Human Birthdays]] ''"Wretched stink-beast! Tell us about these 'birthdays' your pathetic species celebrates, or we shall destroy you with our superior Rylattu technology!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Puny Human Birthdays II|A2. Puny Human Birthdays II]] (Twice as puny, and full of goo) ''"Puny human! Continue the birthday tales or suffer immediate disintegration!"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Christmas Chaos|Christmas Chaos]] ''"Peace on Earth... But they never said anything about the rest of the galaxy."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Music of the Spheres|Music of the Spheres]] ''"When she sings to the stars, the cosmos becomes her chorus."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)|Playing with Fire (Part 1)]] ''"They've been burning for a very long time..."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Playing with Fire (Part 2)|Playing with Fire (Part 2)]] ''"You dreamed of fire... But who will burn?"
# [[LotS/The_Story/Between Heaven and Hell|Between Heaven and Hell]] ''"Heaven totters on the brink of war, and in the shadows azure eyes blaze."
# [[LotS/The_Story/Tales of The Void|A3. Tales of The Void]] ''"The Dark Delight's passengers have stories to share, but what secrets do they hide?"

[[LotS/La_Historia|Spanish translation]] (Work in progress).

LotS/The Story/Between Heaven and Hell/The Man in Black (2)

2013-05-31T22:14:29Z

Ham:

'''The Man in Black (2)'''
 

"...unconvinced by Rex Carnage's defense. You may recall that the action hero said he was making a low budget movie, and that gunning down aspiring actors was much easier than employing special effects. He was sentenced to a week of community service, and ordered to appear in a public service film about the dangers of shooting children."
 

Roy Extho beamed at the camera, his smile as radioactive as ever.
 

"Oh, I'm being told that Mindy Mazmarth has an urgent report for us! Maybe she's finally found a man who can stand her for more than three minutes..."
 

The reporter appeared on the screen, wearing a blue top and a frosty smile.
 

"Screw you, Roy." She stuck her middle finger up by way of punctuation. "Thanks to my sources in the Sian Empire, our network can officially break a story concerning Jian (Player's name)!"
 

"The genocidal war hero?"
 

"That's right, Roy. Viewers might remember that the Jian has been accused of nuking entire planets and massacring innocent civilians. However, over the past months a concerted interstellar media campaign has spoken out in support of his actions and helped to shift public opinion."
 

"We're not here for a history lesson, Mindy. What's the breaking news?"
 

"I was just getting to that, Roy, before an overpaid jackass interrupted me. There have been sporadic reported sightings of Ham since the end of the war. But we've now obtained shocking verified footage of the Jian brawling with an unknown opponent on Blackpool."
 

A video feed of a garish neon bar appeared on the screen, shot from a high angle. Two people were fighting while a woman cowered in the corner. One was dressed from the neck down in distinctive Sian armor, the other in black from head to toe.
 

"It looks like Ham's getting the hell beaten out of him!" Roy said. "I thought he knew kung fu or something?"
 

"If you think that's bad..."
 

The man in black kicked Ham in the chest, launching him through the bar's window. There the footage froze. (Player's name) hovered in the air, suspended with pieces of broken glass around him/her.
 

"Wow! When's the funeral?"
 

"Not so fast, Roy... He/She's alive! He/She landed in the planet's famous black ocean and was rescued. My sources say he/she's recovering from severe injuries, under the personal protection of Prime Minister Wu Tenchu!"
 

'''Wanted Criminal'''
 

"This is an outrage! It's... it's... outrageous!"
 

Francois Dupont, the Secretary-General of the Union of Human Worlds, glared and hammered the podium with his fist.
 

"Secretary-General, please compose yourself," Wu Tenchu said.
 

The prime minister spoke from a two-sided screen which floated at the front of the Assembly, displaying his face both to Dupont and to the other diplomats who filled the chamber.
 

"You're associating with a man accused of war crimes! A man who has been summoned before a UHW hearing but has refused to attend!"
 

"With respect, the Jian never refused. He simply didn't appear. Perhaps your invitation went astray..."
 

"This is no laughing matter! The people of human space deserve and demand justice!"
 

"Oh? Recent opinion polls have shown that a clear majority are against any attempt to-"
 

"Prime minister! You know full well that public opinion has been malevolently influenced by a sinister propaganda campaign designed to spread the abhorrent view that the Centurian genocide was acceptable!"
 

"Surely you don't consider the inhabitants of human space so foolish as to be swayed by a malevolent, sinister, and abhorrent-"
 

"The people are-" Dupont paused, glanced at the rows of cameras, and gave a small cough. "But such things can be discussed at the hearing. Where is Jian (Player's name)?"
 

"The Jian was gravely injured in a violent assault, and is recuperating aboard the Zhuge Liang, my personal vessel."
 

"Then you'll bring him/her to Earth to face-"
 

"No, Mr. Secretary-General. After we leave Blackpool's orbit, we will return to Sian."
 

"This is outrageous!"
 

"So a certain gentleman told me mere moments ago. But I fear that I must disagree. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
 

Francois Dupont continued to glare. But he did so at empty air. The image of Wu Tenchu had vanished.
 

***
 

In the cockpit of a black spacecraft, azure eyes shone.
 

'''Victor and Vanguished)'''
 

Your eyes open. There's a moment's disorientation, as different realities try to assert themselves in your memory. In one you were kicked into the sea and saved from drowning by Screaming Barracuda. The other... Well, that involved a mishmash of confused history and ancestral recollection. It isn't difficult to discern which one is true.
 

And this awakening is better than your last. You're not sprawled on the floor, with water gushing out of your mouth. Instead you're in a soft, warm, comfortable bed. The room is soothing, its illumination gentle and subdued. There are medical machines nearby -- monitoring your vitals. But since nothing's displaying red lights or flat, droning lines, these don't concern you.
 

You shift under the covers. A collection of assorted pains ache across your body, making you wince. Each one reminds you of a powerful blow from black fists or boots. And with that comes a worse memory. A woman's scream...
 

Alexa. Ali's sister... You failed her.
 

A horrific image hovers before your eyes. Noir's tearing her apart, splashing his black mask with bright crimson...
 

Noir...
 

He beat you. A fair fight, unarmed combat. And he defeated you. The thoughts which fill your mind make you ashamed. What do they matter, next to the life of a woman you couldn't save? And yet you can't help pondering them -- drawing them to the forefront of your consciousness.
 

You're an expert in hand-to-hand combat. Trained by the Sian Empire to incapacitate or kill with your strikes and grapples. And you've had more martial experience than most professional brawlers. But Noir... Was he augmented? Filled with cybernetic enhancements like Ragnar? Perhaps... No. You're deluding yourself. Turning speculation into an excuse to save your battered pride. You've fought enough augmented enemies to know the difference. He wasn't loaded with tech like the Niflung.
 

"Kasan!"
 

The punch... That blow struck with the power of your miraculous heritage and destructive chi. A strike that causes exit wounds, shatters bones and splatters organs...
 

He caught it. Just caught it like it was nothing...
 

Your head sinks into the pillow. The greatest shame of all isn't the defeat. It's what you know deep in your heart.
 

You don't want to encounter Noir again. Because you're not his equal.
 

***
 

Noir's ship sliced through the void.
 

The Zhuge Liang was a distant purple shape through the cockpit window, propelled along a perpendicular course by the golden fire of its engines. The man in black's azure eyes blazed as they fastened upon it.
 

(Player's name) had escaped death. But death was coming for him/her once more.
 

'''The Mandarin and The Monster'''
 

(Player's name) closed his/her eyes. Wu Tenchu hoped he was sleeping, and not awake with dark thoughts weighing in his mind.
 

Master Wu deactivated the screen. It had come to life when (Player's name) regained consciousness, triggered by the machines monitoring his condition. The mandarin had considered speaking to him/her. But it hadn't seemed appropriate to intrude at such a moment.
 

Another screen played the footage from Blackpool. Wu Tenchu had watched the fight perhaps a dozen times. Now he examined it in slow-motion with his expert eye, scrutinized every movement, each attack and defense.
 

Noir... That was the name Ham had told Screaming Barracuda during his delirium, and which the Piscarian singer had spoken to Wu when questioned. The man in black who fought better than the Sian Empire's finest warrior. Who could withstand a punch that had... The mandarin blinked away the memories. He had no wish to remember the death and destruction it had wrought.
 

Wu Tenchu knew many things. High among them, a trait which touched and encompassed so many others, was that he understood people. What were strategies, tactics, and political schemes save for ways to employ this knowledge in the most efficacious manner?
 

And Master Wu knew (Player's name). Understood the warrior spirit in his breast and the lengths to which it would drive him/her. In the end, (Player's name) wouldn't allow an enemy to wound him/her so and live. Councilor Dule's grim demise and the deaths of Centurian billions were proof enough of that.
 

But if he/she fought Noir, tried to recover his/her pride and honor by challenging the masked man again... Then (Player's name) would perish. And whether it was through friendship, loyalty, pragmatism, or the wonderful woman they'd both cared so much for, Wu Tenchu couldn't allow that to happen.
 

***
 

The black ship skimmed in low, approaching the Zhuge Liang from above. Technology could thwart technology. Sensors could be baffled. But it was all for nothing if you allowed yourself to be glimpsed through a window.
 

It settled atop the big purple vessel. Magnetic docking clamps held the smaller craft in place, a dark leech fastened to its victim.
 

Moments later Noir's hover pad was lowering him into the Sian ship through an access hatch.
 

'''Hunter and Prey'''
 

You toss the blanket aside and swing your legs off the bed. Lying there is just making you restless in body as well as mind. You have to stretch your limbs.
 

So you dress in the jumpsuit that's been left folded on a chair, and head for the door.
 

***
 

Martin Chung's friends and detractors both called him 'Checkers'. That name had first attached itself to him at the academy, and it had spread through each vessel he'd served on.
 

It wasn't the most erudite of nicknames. He was called Checkers because of his obsession with checking things. It was a quirk that had been with him since he was a child -- when he'd leave the apartment only to return to the front door and turn the handle to make sure it was locked, or flit in and out of the kitchen because of a niggling feeling that he'd left the stove on. This trait had only become more pronounced in the military. If your work could mean the difference between life and death, it was only logical to check, recheck, and check again. All the sniggers and quips in the galaxy wouldn't dissuade him of this.
 

So although he'd tended to the security monitoring room himself, and set everything up exactly as it was supposed to be, Martin 'Checkers' Chung found himself going there again. Just one last check...
 

He entered the chamber and went over to the main console. A dozen holographic screens hovered there, ready to be selected and enlarged as an observer saw fit. His gaze roamed across them all. Everything was perfect. He hadn't needed to come here, but he didn't regret that he had. Better safe than sorry.
 

Martin turned around to leave. And found himself staring into a pair of bright azure slits. He raised his blaster, but it was too late.
 

The first punch shattered his helmet. The second crushed his throat.
 

***
 

Noir stepped over the corpse and gazed at the security screens.
 

"(Player's name)."
 

There he/she was, on one of the images. In a room that looked like a small museum or display chamber. Exquisite objects stood within glass cases, waiting to be marveled at. (Player's name) was inspecting one of them.
 

As good a place as any for him/her to die.
 

'''Noir (II)'''
 

The door opened, and Noir entered the chamber.
 

(Player's name) was on the opposite side, his back to the doorway.
 

The man in black paused. He sniffed the air. Ah... Deception.
 

Behind him the door closed and locked itself with a series of metallic clicks. The hologram of (Player's name) disappeared. Rectangular images came into existence on all four walls. Each of them showed the same thing. The face of Wu Tenchu, the mandarin.
 

"I congratulate you on this stratagem," Noir said. Even the growl within his voice seemed to issue approval.
 

"Thank you."
 

"But tell me one thing... Did (Player's name) agree to it? Or was it of your own devising."
 

"(Player's name) knows nothing of this."
 

"I believed as much... Shall we begin?"
 

Noir spread his arms to either side.
 

In all four corners of the room, turrets popped up from the floor and descended from the ceiling.
 

-------------------------------------

Bullets raked Noir, hundreds of rounds blazing away from spinning barrels. Beams of energy blasted and seared him, bombarding the man in black with huge bursts of red and yellow discharge.
 

His helmet shattered beneath the assault. His ebon garb was chewed up and obliterated. Thus his black, muscular, scaly flesh was revealed. Even naked, his azure eyes were two lone scars of color amidst the darkness.
 

Master Wu stroked his moustache. The barrage shredded Noir's clothing, but his hide was undamaged...
 

"Tell (Player's name) that I am coming for him!"
 

The voice rose above the whirring guns and roaring blasts.
 

Noir clenched his fists and strode to the door.
 

***

Wu Tenchu opened the door to his home, a modest building close to the palace. He had quarters in that grand imperial residence. For his duties often compelled him to spend his nights as well as his days there. But at times he liked to ensconce himself in humbler surroundings, where he could think without the distractions of state and opulence.
 

He crossed the hallway to his personal office. It was a comfortable chamber, with two deep armchairs, a fireplace that emitted a welcoming glow, bookcases filled with eclectic volumes, a table which held a weiqi board, and a desk bearing assorted terminals and screen projectors.
 

It was to the terminals that Master Wu went first. He'd been learning all he could about Noir, compiling information that might aid (Player's name).
 

"I attempted to access those, but I was unable to. Your own encryption methods?"
 

The mandarin froze for only a fraction of a second before replying.
 

"Yes."
 

"They are magnificent."
 

"You flatter me."
 

Noir emerged from the shadows.
 

"You were an assassin before loftier things beckoned you," the man in black said.
 

"That isn't common knowledge."
 

"We are not common people. Tell me, are you as swift and deadly as they say?"
 

"Tales often grow in the telling."
 

"I shall enjoy putting it to the test."
 

"A game of weiqi first?"
 

Wu Tenchu gestured at the board.
 

"Very well."
 

The mandarin and Noir sat on opposite sides of the table, the board and its grid between them.
 

"Black, I presume?"
 

Wu Tenchu slid the pot of ebony stones over to him.
 

And the two of them played.
 

White stones descended from the mandarin's fingers, their black enemies from Noir's -- each occupying an intersection where two lines met. They played in silence save for the clicking of stones against wood, and the soft, almost imperceptible rustling of Master Wu's moustache as he stroked it. Each of them claimed and conquered swaths of the board. They lifted away slain stones.
 

When at last the rival armies had consumed the board, the white forces dominated the field.
 

Wu Tenchu smiled.
 

"Splendid," he said. "I was hoping it would prove so."
 

"A fine victory, but your meaning eludes me."
 

"Had your skill been as great in strategy as in battle, I would have been most perturbed. It's a relief that it isn't so."
 

"We have tested ourselves at your game. Now we shall do the same in mine. And I do not believe the results will be so pleasing to you. But I shall relish discovering the extent of your abilities."
 

The two of them stood and moved into the middle of the floor.
 

"I shall destroy (Player's name). You have merely purchased him time."
 

"Perhaps... But only if you leave here alive."
 

"You are that confident in your assassin's tricks?"
 

"No. In my politician's tricks."
 

The mandarin whistled. It was a lovely, sonorous sound.
 

Thick metal barriers clanged into place, sealing the building's doors and windows.
 

Wu Tenchu smiled.
 

The explosion tore through the room in an apocalyptic wave.

LotS/The Story/Between Heaven and Hell/The Man in Black (2)

2013-05-30T04:19:13Z

Ham:

LotS/The Story/Between Heaven and Hell/The Man in Black (2)

2013-05-30T04:11:10Z

Ham:

'''The Man in Black (2)'''
 

"...unconvinced by Rex Carnage's defense. You may recall that the action hero said he was making a low budget movie, and that gunning down aspiring actors was much easier than employing special effects. He was sentenced to a week of community service, and ordered to appear in a public service film about the dangers of shooting children."
 

Roy Extho beamed at the camera, his smile as radioactive as ever.
 

"Oh, I'm being told that Mindy Mazmarth has an urgent report for us! Maybe she's finally found a man who can stand her for more than three minutes..."
 

The reporter appeared on the screen, wearing a blue top and a frosty smile.
 

"Screw you, Roy." She stuck her middle finger up by way of punctuation. "Thanks to my sources in the Sian Empire, our network can officially break a story concerning Jian (Player's name)!"
 

"The genocidal war hero?"
 

"That's right, Roy. Viewers might remember that the Jian has been accused of nuking entire planets and massacring innocent civilians. However, over the past months a concerted interstellar media campaign has spoken out in support of his actions and helped to shift public opinion."
 

"We're not here for a history lesson, Mindy. What's the breaking news?"
 

"I was just getting to that, Roy, before an overpaid jackass interrupted me. There have been sporadic reported sightings of Ham since the end of the war. But we've now obtained shocking verified footage of the Jian brawling with an unknown opponent on Blackpool."
 

A video feed of a garish neon bar appeared on the screen, shot from a high angle. Two people were fighting while a woman cowered in the corner. One was dressed from the neck down in distinctive Sian armor, the other in black from head to toe.
 

"It looks like Ham's getting the hell beaten out of him!" Roy said. "I thought he knew kung fu or something?"
 

"If you think that's bad..."
 

The man in black kicked Ham in the chest, launching him through the bar's window. There the footage froze. (Player's name) hovered in the air, suspended with pieces of broken glass around him/her.
 

"Wow! When's the funeral?"
 

"Not so fast, Roy... He/She's alive! He/She landed in the planet's famous black ocean and was rescued. My sources say he/she's recovering from severe injuries, under the personal protection of Prime Minister Wu Tenchu!"
 

'''Wanted Criminal'''
 

"This is an outrage! It's... it's... outrageous!"
 

Francois Dupont, the Secretary-General of the Union of Human Worlds, glared and hammered the podium with his fist.
 

"Secretary-General, please compose yourself," Wu Tenchu said.
 

The prime minister spoke from a two-sided screen which floated at the front of the Assembly, displaying his face both to Dupont and to the other diplomats who filled the chamber.
 

"You're associating with a man accused of war crimes! A man who has been summoned before a UHW hearing but has refused to attend!"
 

"With respect, the Jian never refused. He simply didn't appear. Perhaps your invitation went astray..."
 

"This is no laughing matter! The people of human space deserve and demand justice!"
 

"Oh? Recent opinion polls have shown that a clear majority are against any attempt to-"
 

"Prime minister! You know full well that public opinion has been malevolently influenced by a sinister propaganda campaign designed to spread the abhorrent view that the Centurian genocide was acceptable!"
 

"Surely you don't consider the inhabitants of human space so foolish as to be swayed by a malevolent, sinister, and abhorrent-"
 

"The people are-" Dupont paused, glanced at the rows of cameras, and gave a small cough. "But such things can be discussed at the hearing. Where is Jian (Player's name)?"
 

"The Jian was gravely injured in a violent assault, and is recuperating aboard the Zhuge Liang, my personal vessel."
 

"Then you'll bring him/her to Earth to face-"
 

"No, Mr. Secretary-General. After we leave Blackpool's orbit, we will return to Sian."
 

"This is outrageous!"
 

"So a certain gentleman told me mere moments ago. But I fear that I must disagree. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
 

Francois Dupont continued to glare. But he did so at empty air. The image of Wu Tenchu had vanished.
 

***
 

In the cockpit of a black spacecraft, azure eyes shone.
 

'''Victor and Vanguished)'''
 

Your eyes open. There's a moment's disorientation, as different realities try to assert themselves in your memory. In one you were kicked into the sea and saved from drowning by Screaming Barracuda. The other... Well, that involved a mishmash of confused history and ancestral recollection. It isn't difficult to discern which one is true.
 

And this awakening is better than your last. You're not sprawled on the floor, with water gushing out of your mouth. Instead you're in a soft, warm, comfortable bed. The room is soothing, its illumination gentle and subdued. There are medical machines nearby -- monitoring your vitals. But since nothing's displaying red lights or flat, droning lines, these don't concern you.
 

You shift under the covers. A collection of assorted pains ache across your body, making you wince. Each one reminds you of a powerful blow from black fists or boots. And with that comes a worse memory. A woman's scream...
 

Alexa. Ali's sister... You failed her.
 

A horrific image hovers before your eyes. Noir's tearing her apart, splashing his black mask with bright crimson...
 

Noir...
 

He beat you. A fair fight, unarmed combat. And he defeated you. The thoughts which fill your mind make you ashamed. What do they matter, next to the life of a woman you couldn't save? And yet you can't help pondering them -- drawing them to the forefront of your consciousness.
 

You're an expert in hand-to-hand combat. Trained by the Sian Empire to incapacitate or kill with your strikes and grapples. And you've had more martial experience than most professional brawlers. But Noir... Was he augmented? Filled with cybernetic enhancements like Ragnar? Perhaps... No. You're deluding yourself. Turning speculation into an excuse to save your battered pride. You've fought enough augmented enemies to know the difference. He wasn't loaded with tech like the Niflung.
 

"Kasan!"
 

The punch... That blow struck with the power of your miraculous heritage and destructive chi. A strike that causes exit wounds, shatters bones and splatters organs...
 

He caught it. Just caught it like it was nothing...
 

Your head sinks into the pillow. The greatest shame of all isn't the defeat. It's what you know deep in your heart.
 

You don't want to encounter Noir again. Because you're not his equal.
 

***
 

Noir's ship sliced through the void.
 

The Zhuge Liang was a distant purple shape through the cockpit window, propelled along a perpendicular course by the golden fire of its engines. The man in black's azure eyes blazed as they fastened upon it.
 

(Player's name) had escaped death. But death was coming for him once more.
 

'''The Mandarin and The Monster'''
 

(Player's name) closed his/her eyes. Wu Tenchu hoped he was sleeping, and not awake with dark thoughts weighing in his mind.
 

Master Wu deactivated the screen. It had come to life when Ham regained consciousness, triggered by the machines monitoring his condition. The mandarin had considered speaking to him. But it hadn't seemed appropriate to intrude at such a moment.
 

Another screen played the footage from Blackpool. Wu Tenchu had watched the fight perhaps a dozen times. Now he examined it in slow-motion with his expert eye, scrutinized every movement, each attack and defense.
 

Noir... That was the name Ham had told Screaming Barracuda during his delirium, and which the Piscarian singer had spoken to Wu when questioned. The man in black who fought better than the Sian Empire's finest warrior. Who could withstand a punch that had... The mandarin blinked away the memories. He had no wish to remember the death and destruction it had wrought.
 

Wu Tenchu knew many things. High among them, a trait which touched and encompassed so many others, was that he understood people. What were strategies, tactics, and political schemes save for ways to employ this knowledge in the most efficacious manner?
 

And Master Wu knew Ham. Understood the warrior spirit in his breast and the lengths to which it would drive him. In the end, (Player's name) wouldn't allow an enemy to wound him/her so and live. Councilor Dule's grim demise and the deaths of Centurian billions were proof enough of that.
 

But if he/she fought Noir, tried to recover his/her pride and honor by challenging the masked man again... Then (Player's name) would perish. And whether it was through friendship, loyalty, pragmatism, or the wonderful woman they'd both cared so much for, Wu Tenchu couldn't allow that to happen.
 

***
 

The black ship skimmed in low, approaching the Zhuge Liang from above. Technology could thwart technology. Sensors could be baffled. But it was all for nothing if you allowed yourself to be glimpsed through a window.
 

It settled atop the big purple vessel. Magnetic docking clamps held the smaller craft in place, a dark leech fastened to its victim.
 

Moments later Noir's hover pad was lowering him into the Sian ship through an access hatch.
 

'''Hunter and Prey'''
 

You toss the blanket aside and swing your legs off the bed. Lying there is just making you restless in body as well as mind. You have to stretch your limbs.
 

So you dress in the jumpsuit that's been left folded on a chair, and head for the door.
 

***
 

Martin Chung's friends and detractors both called him 'Checkers'. That name had first attached itself to him at the academy, and it had spread through each vessel he'd served on.
 

It wasn't the most erudite of nicknames. He was called Checkers because of his obsession with checking things. It was a quirk that had been with him since he was a child -- when he'd leave the apartment only to return to the front door and turn the handle to make sure it was locked, or flit in and out of the kitchen because of a niggling feeling that he'd left the stove on. This trait had only become more pronounced in the military. If your work could mean the difference between life and death, it was only logical to check, recheck, and check again. All the sniggers and quips in the galaxy wouldn't dissuade him of this.
 

So although he'd tended to the security monitoring room himself, and set everything up exactly as it was supposed to be, Martin 'Checkers' Chung found himself going there again. Just one last check...
 

He entered the chamber and went over to the main console. A dozen holographic screens hovered there, ready to be selected and enlarged as an observer saw fit. His gaze roamed across them all. Everything was perfect. He hadn't needed to come here, but he didn't regret that he had. Better safe than sorry.
 

Martin turned around to leave. And found himself staring into a pair of bright azure slits. He raised his blaster, but it was too late.
 

The first punch shattered his helmet. The second crushed his throat.
 

***
 

Noir stepped over the corpse and gazed at the security screens.
 

"(Player's name)."
 

There he was, on one of the images. In a room that looked like a small museum or display chamber. Exquisite objects stood within glass cases, waiting to be marveled at. Ham was inspecting one of them.
 

As good a place as any for him to die.
 

'''Noir (II)'''

LotS/The Story/Between Heaven and Hell/The Man in Black (2)

2013-05-30T03:58:58Z

Ham: Created page with "'''The Man in Black (2)''' "...unconvinced by Rex Carnage's defense. You may recall that the action hero said he was making a low budget movie,..."

'''The Man in Black (2)'''
 

"...unconvinced by Rex Carnage's defense. You may recall that the action hero said he was making a low budget movie, and that gunning down aspiring actors was much easier than employing special effects. He was sentenced to a week of community service, and ordered to appear in a public service film about the dangers of shooting children."
 

Roy Extho beamed at the camera, his smile as radioactive as ever.
 

"Oh, I'm being told that Mindy Mazmarth has an urgent report for us! Maybe she's finally found a man who can stand her for more than three minutes..."
 

The reporter appeared on the screen, wearing a blue top and a frosty smile.
 

"Screw you, Roy." She stuck her middle finger up by way of punctuation. "Thanks to my sources in the Sian Empire, our network can officially break a story concerning Jian (Player's name)!"
 

"The genocidal war hero?"
 

"That's right, Roy. Viewers might remember that the Jian has been accused of nuking entire planets and massacring innocent civilians. However, over the past months a concerted interstellar media campaign has spoken out in support of his actions and helped to shift public opinion."
 

"We're not here for a history lesson, Mindy. What's the breaking news?"
 

"I was just getting to that, Roy, before an overpaid jackass interrupted me. There have been sporadic reported sightings of Ham since the end of the war. But we've now obtained shocking verified footage of the Jian brawling with an unknown opponent on Blackpool."
 

A video feed of a garish neon bar appeared on the screen, shot from a high angle. Two people were fighting while a woman cowered in the corner. One was dressed from the neck down in distinctive Sian armor, the other in black from head to toe.
 

"It looks like Ham's getting the hell beaten out of him!" Roy said. "I thought he knew kung fu or something?"
 

"If you think that's bad..."
 

The man in black kicked Ham in the chest, launching him through the bar's window. There the footage froze. (Player's name) hovered in the air, suspended with pieces of broken glass around him.
 

"Wow! When's the funeral?"
 

"Not so fast, Roy... He's alive! He landed in the planet's famous black ocean and was rescued. My sources say he's recovering from severe injuries, under the personal protection of Prime Minister Wu Tenchu!"
 

'''Wanted Criminal'''
 

"This is an outrage! It's... it's... outrageous!"
 

Francois Dupont, the Secretary-General of the Union of Human Worlds, glared and hammered the podium with his fist.
 

"Secretary-General, please compose yourself," Wu Tenchu said.
 

The prime minister spoke from a two-sided screen which floated at the front of the Assembly, displaying his face both to Dupont and to the other diplomats who filled the chamber.
 

"You're associating with a man accused of war crimes! A man who has been summoned before a UHW hearing but has refused to attend!"
 

"With respect, the Jian never refused. He simply didn't appear. Perhaps your invitation went astray..."
 

"This is no laughing matter! The people of human space deserve and demand justice!"
 

"Oh? Recent opinion polls have shown that a clear majority are against any attempt to-"
 

"Prime minister! You know full well that public opinion has been malevolently influenced by a sinister propaganda campaign designed to spread the abhorrent view that the Centurian genocide was acceptable!"
 

"Surely you don't consider the inhabitants of human space so foolish as to be swayed by a malevolent, sinister, and abhorrent-"
 

"The people are-" Dupont paused, glanced at the rows of cameras, and gave a small cough. "But such things can be discussed at the hearing. Where is Jian (Player's name)?"
 

"The Jian was gravely injured in a violent assault, and is recuperating aboard the Zhuge Liang, my personal vessel."
 

"Then you'll bring him to Earth to face-"
 

"No, Mr. Secretary-General. After we leave Blackpool's orbit, we will return to Sian."
 

"This is outrageous!"
 

"So a certain gentleman told me mere moments ago. But I fear that I must disagree. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
 

rancois Dupont continued to glare. But he did so at empty air. The image of Wu Tenchu had vanished.
 

***
 

In the cockpit of a black spacecraft, azure eyes shone.
 

'''Victor and Vanguished)'''
 

Your eyes open. There's a moment's disorientation, as different realities try to assert themselves in your memory. In one you were kicked into the sea and saved from drowning by Screaming Barracuda. The other... Well, that involved a mishmash of confused history and ancestral recollection. It isn't difficult to discern which one is true.
 

And this awakening is better than your last. You're not sprawled on the floor, with water gushing out of your mouth. Instead you're in a soft, warm, comfortable bed. The room is soothing, its illumination gentle and subdued. There are medical machines nearby -- monitoring your vitals. But since nothing's displaying red lights or flat, droning lines, these don't concern you.
 

You shift under the covers. A collection of assorted pains ache across your body, making you wince. Each one reminds you of a powerful blow from black fists or boots. And with that comes a worse memory. A woman's scream...
 

Alexa. Ali's sister... You failed her.
 

A horrific image hovers before your eyes. Noir's tearing her apart, splashing his black mask with bright crimson...
 

Noir...
 

He beat you. A fair fight, unarmed combat. And he defeated you. The thoughts which fill your mind make you ashamed. What do they matter, next to the life of a woman you couldn't save? And yet you can't help pondering them -- drawing them to the forefront of your consciousness.
 

You're an expert in hand-to-hand combat. Trained by the Sian Empire to incapacitate or kill with your strikes and grapples. And you've had more martial experience than most professional brawlers. But Noir... Was he augmented? Filled with cybernetic enhancements like Ragnar? Perhaps... No. You're deluding yourself. Turning speculation into an excuse to save your battered pride. You've fought enough augmented enemies to know the difference. He wasn't loaded with tech like the Niflung.
 

"Kasan!"
 

The punch... That blow struck with the power of your miraculous heritage and destructive chi. A strike that causes exit wounds, shatters bones and splatters organs...
 

He caught it. Just caught it like it was nothing...
 

Your head sinks into the pillow. The greatest shame of all isn't the defeat. It's what you know deep in your heart.
 

You don't want to encounter Noir again. Because you're not his equal.
 

***
 

Noir's ship sliced through the void.
 

The Zhuge Liang was a distant purple shape through the cockpit window, propelled along a perpendicular course by the golden fire of its engines. The man in black's azure eyes blazed as they fastened upon it.
 

(Player's name) had escaped death. But death was coming for him once more.
 

'''The Mandarin and The Monster'''
 

(Player's name) closed his/her eyes. Wu Tenchu hoped he was sleeping, and not awake with dark thoughts weighing in his mind.
 

Master Wu deactivated the screen. It had come to life when Ham regained consciousness, triggered by the machines monitoring his condition. The mandarin had considered speaking to him. But it hadn't seemed appropriate to intrude at such a moment.
 

Another screen played the footage from Blackpool. Wu Tenchu had watched the fight perhaps a dozen times. Now he examined it in slow-motion with his expert eye, scrutinized every movement, each attack and defense.
 

Noir... That was the name Ham had told Screaming Barracuda during his delirium, and which the Piscarian singer had spoken to Wu when questioned. The man in black who fought better than the Sian Empire's finest warrior. Who could withstand a punch that had... The mandarin blinked away the memories. He had no wish to remember the death and destruction it had wrought.
 

Wu Tenchu knew many things. High among them, a trait which touched and encompassed so many others, was that he understood people. What were strategies, tactics, and political schemes save for ways to employ this knowledge in the most efficacious manner?
 

And Master Wu knew Ham. Understood the warrior spirit in his breast and the lengths to which it would drive him. In the end, (Player's name) wouldn't allow an enemy to wound him/her so and live. Councilor Dule's grim demise and the deaths of Centurian billions were proof enough of that.
 

But if he/she fought Noir, tried to recover his/her pride and honor by challenging the masked man again... Then (Player's name) would perish. And whether it was through friendship, loyalty, pragmatism, or the wonderful woman they'd both cared so much for, Wu Tenchu couldn't allow that to happen.
 

***
 

The black ship skimmed in low, approaching the Zhuge Liang from above. Technology could thwart technology. Sensors could be baffled. But it was all for nothing if you allowed yourself to be glimpsed through a window.
 

It settled atop the big purple vessel. Magnetic docking clamps held the smaller craft in place, a dark leech fastened to its victim.
 

Moments later Noir's hover pad was lowering him into the Sian ship through an access hatch.
 

'''Hunter and Prey'''
 

You toss the blanket aside and swing your legs off the bed. Lying there is just making you restless in body as well as mind. You have to stretch your limbs.
 

So you dress in the jumpsuit that's been left folded on a chair, and head for the door.
 

***
 

Martin Chung's friends and detractors both called him 'Checkers'. That name had first attached itself to him at the academy, and it had spread through each vessel he'd served on.
 

It wasn't the most erudite of nicknames. He was called Checkers because of his obsession with checking things. It was a quirk that had been with him since he was a child -- when he'd leave the apartment only to return to the front door and turn the handle to make sure it was locked, or flit in and out of the kitchen because of a niggling feeling that he'd left the stove on. This trait had only become more pronounced in the military. If your work could mean the difference between life and death, it was only logical to check, recheck, and check again. All the sniggers and quips in the galaxy wouldn't dissuade him of this.
 

So although he'd tended to the security monitoring room himself, and set everything up exactly as it was supposed to be, Martin 'Checkers' Chung found himself going there again. Just one last check...
 

He entered the chamber and went over to the main console. A dozen holographic screens hovered there, ready to be selected and enlarged as an observer saw fit. His gaze roamed across them all. Everything was perfect. He hadn't needed to come here, but he didn't regret that he had. Better safe than sorry.
 

Martin turned around to leave. And found himself staring into a pair of bright azure slits. He raised his blaster, but it was too late.
 

The first punch shattered his helmet. The second crushed his throat.
 

***
 

Noir stepped over the corpse and gazed at the security screens.
 

"(Player's name)."
 

There he was, on one of the images. In a room that looked like a small museum or display chamber. Exquisite objects stood within glass cases, waiting to be marveled at. Ham was inspecting one of them.
 

As good a place as any for him to die.
 

'''Noir (II)'''