Define a God?
A God is what you see in your darkest moments on your knees crying for it to stop!
Bridge - HMS Excalibur - Langrange 5 Point - Karin Orbit
OCCUPATION: DAY FOUR
"It's been three days," Masconi reminded, standing at the foot of Darien's desk, looking across the litter of small pieces that he had scattered across it. She looked at the Warlord sitting behind the desk toiling away the hours, fiddling with an odd-shaped tool that he'd made out of a knife, a cross between a screwdriver and a hammer.
Darien looked up from his work. "I know. We're waiting on the Propylons..."
"With respect, sir," Masconi cleared her throat, "I have people on Karin, as do you. We can't afford to sit here, waiting for a system that we may not be able to repair."
Darien set his tool aside. "Is that my CAG talking, or is that the opinion of the Highlady Kardiac?"
"That was underhanded," Masconi replied, shaking her head as she stood easily before his desk, her hands cupped at the small of her back. "They are one in the same. As your CAG, we have to do something, we can't just sit here. The crew's going to go insane." She looked down at Darien's clutter, and back up at the Warlord's scruffy appearance, with his tired eyes. "Well, more insane for some..."
"Careful," Edward said, emerging from the bedroom, "he's been cranky lately."
Masconi turned, looking at the young engineer, still firmly entrenched in his 'wear Darien's clothes' phase. Boyfriends, she thought, rolling her eyes.
"What do you propose?" Darien asked, ignoring Edward's quip. "We're cut off from the planet, the Gorean refuse to engage, and if we try sending out a CAP of fighters, the Gorean muster enough of their powered armours to squash even a force-recon flight ten times over. I don't want to think of what'll happen if we try to reach the civilian fleet on the edge of the system."
"So what's the problem with the Propylons?" Masconi asked, directing the question at the Engineer.
Edward unhooked one of his earphones, shaking his head as he lifted his metal clipboard. "Honest answer, the Dar'shar strike team did so much damage tearing them out of the ship," he shook his head, "I'd have to rebuild the whole system, and that takes parts we just don't have. I'm scavenging what I can from non-essential systems, and even a few from essential ones." He gave a frustrated sigh. "The system requires five primary couplings, to hook the Propylons into the new master computer. We have two of them, and short of unplugging the Excalibur's main computer core from the master back bone router, we can't get any more. The two we do have I got from disabling the Ark-Royal and Invincible's computers."
"You get these and we're good to go?" Masconi asked thoughtfully.
"No," Edward admitted, "I have a parts list as long as my arm."
"Can you give me that list?" Masconi walked to the couches and sat down, crossing one leg over the other as she watched the young Immortal Emperor.
"Sure..." Edward began, handing her his clipboard.
"You have an idea," Darien said with a nod. "What do you need?"
"One of Mayfair's Dragoon teams, and your boyfriend." Masconi smiled sweetly as she scanned over the contents of the list.
Darien blinked, "You what?"
"There's more than one way to skin a cat," Masconi answered, looking up at him. "Last I checked there's a perfectly good pile of Imperial spare parts sitting on an airfield in Karin City," she gestured over at Edward, "and Matty here could get us down there and back"
"I think Federal Express might object to me muscling in on their territory," Edward muttered with a wry grin.
"Who?" Masconi asked.
"Never mind," Edward smirked. "Old Imperial humour. D'you want me to take you to the Prometheus, or do you want me to bring it here?"
Both Masconi and Darien turned towards Edward. "You what?" Darien asked, with a puzzled expression on his face.
Edward looked confused at their expressions. "What? It's not easy or nothing. I've never tried anything as big as an Osterburg Hunter-Killer, but the theory is still the same, I concentrate like I'm constipated and... bammo!"
"That was graphic," Masconi murmured dryly.
"The Prometheus Unbound was holed pretty badly," Darien remarked, "and the last thing we need is another deep space salvage operation. Take a retrieval team, collect what we need, try not to get seen. You know the drill."
Masconi smiled. "He's handy." She jerked a thumb after Edward who was hurrying off to fetch his parts list.
Darien nodded. "Sometimes I think he's the only one around here who's still sane."
"It takes insanity to make sense out of a galaxy gone mad." Masconi sat down on the edge of Darien's desk. "We have... other problems."
"Such as?" Darien asked looking up at her.
"We need Lauren's cabin, and then there's Nazzien's, and Firlotte and Galadriel's bunks." She shook her head slowly. "We've all been putting this off far too long."
"Have everything put into storage," Darien rumbled dismissively, a dark expression crossing his face as he reached for a tool.
"Skipper," Masconi pressed, "I don't want to do it either, but someone has to close the book."
"Then you do it!" Darien snapped.
"That's not fair," Masconi said calmly. "It's bad enough that its gotta get done, but making one person responsible for this..."
Darien lifted his glasses and rubbed his exhausted eyes, "Mayfair should do Lauren's cabin. She is... was... his fiancé."
Masconi nodded her head, "Nazzien's should be mine, and by that logic Katz should do Firlotte's..."
Darien scrubbed his face. "Gods, that's going to be rough on him..."
"I'll go with him," Masconi offered, "after I get back from the Prommie. That just leaves..."
"I'll do Galadriel's," Darien said as he set his tools aside. "
Her death was my fault, it's my responsibility."
"Alone?" Masconi asked softly, "It should never be alone."
"I'll have Matt with me," Darien said firmly, shaking his head. "If it gets too much I'll want him there, but I don't want the rest of the crew to see. It won't do any of us any good if they see their Skipper emotional. Not when we're hanging on by a thread."
"No," Masconi agreed, "but it'll do you some good to get it out. You look like you need..."
"I know," Darien agreed tiredly, getting up from behind his desk and walking back towards the great stern windows, his hand resting upon the panes of glass that separated him from the darkness beyond. The gleaming orb of Karin surrounded by the bulk of the Gorean invasion force, terrorizing a planet that had come to mean so much to all of them aboard the Excalibur.
"I wish there was an easy answer to all of this." Darien sighed. "Matty grows more and more cryptic with each passing day."
"Natural given that he's as evolved to us as we are to monkeys..." Masconi said. "You haven't seen the shrine yet... have you?"
* * *
Katz was having a slow day. Refusing to get up had only resulted in his being turfed from his rack by the next occupant. The price of hot bunking, that and the probability that they were all going to get lice. The cramped conditions on Excalibur had only gotten worse, with the evacuees from Karin city forcing everyone into extremely close proximity with each other. Colds, bugs and hunger were the only things in abundance.
Katz shrugged on a grey hoodie, following Alessandro through the ship. Firlotte's red cap was stuffed onto his head, pulled low to shadow his eyes in an attempt to hide the dark rings that came with too many hours laying awake, haunted by ghosts.
"Shrine?" Katz folded his arms looking at the corridor around him, "it looks like some kind of demented psycho stalker with a fascination for short, annoying..."
"Eh, chi Ragazzo, belief is something needed, no?" Alessandro shrugged standing beside him in a borrowed Von Karin uniform; it looked odd on him, suggestively hiding his wiry frame. Katz had found it a great distraction, trying his best not to stare enraptured every time Alessandro wasn't looking.
Of course Alessandro knew, and he deliberately made sure to wear the blue enlisted crewman's shirt at every opportunity he could. The lieutenants insignia, also borrowed, pinned to the epaulettes, looked out of place. Not that there was much choice. People across the ship were making do, borrowing what they could from wherever they could find it.
It was a game between them or, more accurately, a game to Alessandro in which Katz was forced to participate. All it took was the odd moment; a waggling of Alessandro's slightly oversized ears at the right moment and - bang - Katz completely lost what he was supposed to be doing. Or a hand on a hip that pulled the shirt back against Alessandro's body, giving Katz the vaguest of hints of the well toned body underneath, and again he was lost. It was making staff briefings on the bridge one of the hardest things Katz had ever had to endure... at least until they were able to get back to their bunk, and then the game was squarely Katz's as he put his hands on the object of his desire. Although Alessandro always put the brakes on before it went too far.
"Yeah, but this is kinda creepy," Katz remarked, staring at the pictures on the walls. Salvaged from video feeds or taken from personal cameras. There was even a holographic image of the young prince, taken during his first outing aboard Sentinel Station, smiling and happy. Fed into the Excalibur's holographic projectors and locked on repeat.
Alessandro flashed his brilliant smile as he looked at it, waving his hand through the image watching it waver and flicker.
"Careful, someone might think that was sacrilegious." Edward's voice cut in from down the corridor.
Alessandro jumped like he'd been bitten, "Scuzi, scuzi," he blushed a bright shade of red as he stepped back behind Katz, suddenly shy. It was a side of Alessandro that Katz had never experienced.
"Hey, no worries." Edward sauntered down the corridor, Darien's 49-ers cap tilted to the side and a broad grin on his face. "I always wanted to be worshipped... but I always thought it'd be as a rock god or something... this is a little too literal." He paused and picked at one of the photos stuck to the wall, a teen magazine, a big red heart drawn around his face with the letters 'Eddy + M.E. 4 EVR' written under it, "who's M.E?" he murmured shaking his head.
"You want me to call maintenance?" Katz offered tiredly, looking at the engineer. "It'd take a bit of elbow grease, but they should be able to get rid of all of these." He waved a hand around him at the tunnel-o-matt.
"Hell no," Edward shook his head, "You want to have a riot on your hands? I have adoring fans and stuff. True, they probably need some kind of professional help, but do you want to explain to Darien why a bunch of people went batshit all because of a few pictures?"
"This is more than a few pictures," Katz observed with a nod.
"Yeah..." Edward shrugged, "but it's important to them."
"To who?" Katz asked, "I mean who does this? Why do this?"
"Faith Ragazzo," Alessandro touched Katz's shoulder, "a person must believe in something. I believe..."
Katz turned his head. "In what... him?" he gestured incredulously towards Edward. "No offence," he looked at Edward apologetically before looking back at Alessandro, "but are you nuts?"
"Ragazzo," Alessandro shrugged, "my momma, she told me to show respect. My brother was a priest."
"Every second Kardiac is a priest..." Katz scoffed. Catching sight of an expression on Alessandro's face he paused, his tone deflating, "I'm sorry?" he said, not sure what exactly he was apologizing for.
Alessandro bounded back a step, rolling his shoulders, "I should go." He motioned to the hatch behind him, turned, and walked away.
"Allie..." Katz began, "I didn't mean it like that. Allie..." He took a step after him.
"You're in trouble," Edward offered helpfully, still smiling.
"Gee, you figure?" Katz turned, his eyes flaring as he looked back at Edward. "You know for a god, you sure know how to piss people off."
"Yep," Edward beamed back at him, "but my boyfriend's still gonna sleep with me tonight. Yours... Well you know, I think if you do some major sucking up he might let you out of the dog house some time next month."
"About when you're due out?" Darien asked from the far doorway. He stood, arms folded leaning against the frame. His eyes flicking over the new interior décor of the hall, and back at the two young men. "I wanted to ask you, shrine?"
"You're in trouble." Katz smirked back at Edward, using the exact same tone Edward had used on him earlier.
"You're not blaming me for this one," Edward said defensively as he set his jaw and folded his arms. "It was like this when I got here." He looked at Darien's un-amused face and quickly pointed at Katz. "He did it!"
"I did not!" Katz retorted in surprise, shaking his head. "Allie can back me up." He jerked his thumb in the direction Alessandro had gone. "I'll go get him."
"Chicken," Edward chuckled with another grin.
Katz darted off, refusing to acknowledge the jibe, leaving Darien and Edward alone.
Darien entered the make-shift shrine, pulling closed the hatch behind him, sealing it with a solid clank and rotating the wheel to shut them inside. "You know, I think there should be a rule about your ego." He glanced around himself again, taking in all the pictures.
Edward's face suddenly became serious. "I'm worried about this, Darien," he said, pushing his hands into his pockets as his azure eyes shone in the gloom of the deck lights. "It's starting, and we both know where it will end up."
Darien shook his head. "It's too late to contain it. At least if we channel it correctly we'll be able to control it."
"You did it, didn't you!" Edward accused with a shocked expression on his face, looking again at all the work, and back at Darien.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Darien said calmly, reaching out to hook a finger through Edward's belt loops and tugging him closer against him, resting his boyfriend's head against his chest.
"Who's M.E?" Edward demanded, allowing himself to be pulled closer.
"Matthew Elias. You are your own biggest fan sometimes." Darien grinned. "Kyr told me about what happened in sickbay, and he suggested we give people a channel for their hope. They already believe you are a god, we can at least monitor it from here. Turn it to a positive force."
"It won't stop here," Edward answered sadly. "It'll grow, and fester, and..."
"You seem to be the only thing worth believing in." Darien whispered quietly in his ear.
"You're supposed to say that." Edward blushed, looking up from where he snuggled in close against Darien's chest picking at the polar fleece Darien had on. "It's still a bit psycho, you know."
"Maybe," Darien nodded removing the ball cap to kiss Edward's forehead, "but given everything that's happened, Kyr had a good point. Maybe if we find something to believe in, we can focus on that, and forget about how bad things really are." He kissed Edward's cheek. "It really, kinda, makes sense." He moved to kiss Edward's lips.
Edward pulled back, "No, don't. It's like I'm watching myself." He shivered as he looked at all the pictures and back at Darien. "And, well, that'd take narcissism to a whole new low."
"You're the one who complains that he doesn't get enough attention," Darien smirked.
"I am not sleeping with you in a shrine, especially not one dedicated to me! That's super weird. Your stateroom, however..." He grinned broadly. "Or maybe down on Vulture's row again," he waggled his eyebrows, "or the laundry machinery room."
"Huh?" Darien blinked. "You won't do it here, but you'd do it beside industrial washing machines?"
"No," Edward retorted, "of course not. "On top!. Maybe inside. But definitely not beside."
He paused, pushing Darien ahead of him, and looked back at the shrine, feeling a cold shiver running through him at what it meant.
* * *
Colonel Mayfair sat on the edge of Lauren's bunk, looking at the messy cabin, his head resting on his hand as he tried, again, to make sense out of everything that she had done.
There was no making sense out of it. The reasons had probably been many, and complex. Lauren had always held onto her facets, her previous life as a mercenary for the Orions, her duty as Darien's Exec, her life in her own shadow. Mayfair couldn't imagine that life, she'd pushed herself harder and harder towards the edge, and she'd dragged him along for the ride.
There was nothing in that room. Lauren had never been a person to live beyond the contents of her kit bag. She'd led a transient life, hopping from ship to ship. She had a few personal effects, but nothing with any hint to her personality. Nothing to remind him of the strong and vibrant woman that she had been.
He lay back on her bed, the front of his fatigues hanging open as he put one arm behind his head, the other playing with the ring on his dog tags, the ring he'd intended to marry her with, staring up at the bulkhead above him. She'd betrayed him.
That pain was fresh; a deep cut that tore at him. She'd rejected the Empire, struck out at Darien. He had just been collateral damage, just another victim of friendly fire. Had he even been a thought in her mind when she'd killed the bridge crew? Had she even glanced at the ring on her finger as she ejected from the Excalibur in the drop sled?
She was dead, it was over and he just had to deal with that.
He drew his service pistol and rested it on the bed beside him, his fingers feeling the cold metal as he lay there. His eyes half closed as he remembered her smile, her laugh. The way her neck curved into her shoulder. The beautiful woman that had turned her attention upon him when he had first come aboard that ship...
That ship of death.
It seemed as if Excalibur was cursed, that death stalked her, borne from star to star as VonGrippen's legacy. It consumed those that were stranded aboard her, forcing them together, and then tearing them apart again as the war swept on.
Lauren, the first one, had been torn from him. But then, she had never been his, she had belonged to Kendrick. It was an imitation, a lie, that Lauren had been his. He was doomed to inherit the shattered leftovers of a person dragged back from the darkness of oblivion by Rikard's machinations, resurrected to stab him in the heart.
He curled over, wrapping an arm around her pillow and he pressed against it, shaking his head as the wave of bitterness passed through him. She was gone.
The beeping of his TAC-link informed him that he was needed back on duty. And the old soldier stood, dropping the pillow back to the bed, scrubbing the back of his hand over his eyes as he re-holstered his gun and left her cabin for the last time. She was gone, and he remained. And he wouldn't let her betrayal cloud his loyalty. Darien needed him, and his beloved Karin was crawling with invaders. He gritted his teeth as he walked away from her, and headed back to his own life.
* * *
Stateroom - HMS Lex Talionis - Thales System - Orion Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY FOUR
Rikard's eyes slid open. The disorientation of the moment forced him to close them again as he swam in a wave of nausea. It wasn't a pleasant feeling for a man who had existed for four hundred years without such pains. Three hundred of that time he was semi-transcendent, and disease and sickness were merely distant memories. That moment was a sudden and brutal reminder that Rikard, upon that vessel, was merely just another man.
The whirring clicks caused him to squint open his eyes again. He looked across at the mechanoid that fluttered at the end of his bed. Like a cat its back haunches folded under it as it sat, its photo-receptor fixed upon the prisoner, the Parkins Industrial logo printed neatly upon its burnished red hide. It was such an unexpected configuration for a mech that Rikard sat up right to inspect it.
"You really should consider dropping the post-modern techno-industrial look," Rikard muttered, looking up at the dark green bulkheads around him, "it's passé."
The ship was ominously silent, except for the strumming of the ion drives, and of course the whirring from his jailor
Rikard pushed himself out of bed, scooping up the thick flannel dressing gown that lay beside it and pulling it on over top of his striped pyjamas. His feet searched for his slippers, finding the stuffed plushie puppies that seemed almost laughable, except for the fact that there were warm, and the Lex Talionis was resolutely cold.
The mech unfolded its legs and padded after him, pistons hissing noisily as its fusion reactor burbled. Rikard cocked his head back at it. "Here boy, walkies!"
Its photo-receptors rotated questioningly and Rikard shook his head, crossing what, three hundred years before, would have been luxurious accommodations, but had subsequently decayed into near squalor. He thrust his hands into the dressing gown pockets and waited while the doors slid open on the rest of the ship.
The noise was close to deafening, a cacophony of power drills, buzz saws and arc welders. The crew compartments of the mighty Imperial vessel had become a construction zone, as the ship was literally cannibalizing itself on the inside building something that was entirely new, and for Rikard, far more ominous.
He could recognize the design of the vessel, even though it was still nothing more than a shell, years from completion even at the breakneck rate that Lex was building it at. The large flute shape of the design flowing back into a series of five spires designed to house Propylons. It was directly from his memories of the Peligian texts, a vessel that could conquer the depths of space, and literally be anywhere. It made the Excalibur's jerry rigged Propylon jump drives seem elementary by comparison.
Another secret lifted from Rikard's memories by the nanobots that flowed through his system stealing his thoughts, his genetic code and robbing him of his chance to complete his goals. Not that it mattered much any more. Rikard shrugged his shoulders and sauntered onwards.
"And for breakfast?" he inquired of thin air. "Soylent Green again?"
Ahead of him a trio of octopus Mechs toiled to repair damage caused during the recent incursion against the Polian Synod. Arms lifted away the damaged section of blast plating while others worked to reconstruct the delicate wiring that had been burnt and charred away. Rikard glanced idly at the repair work, noting the membranous substance that was being sewn directly into the circuitry, a demented grafting of flesh over machinery. Lex Talionis continued to maintain its house of horrors atmosphere.
A floating holo-projector whisked up and over the metal gallery, spinning up to charge as the image of his captor flickered to life floating in the air before him. Rikard scratched his beard and smiled. "Your hospitality sucks."
"I require your tactical knowledge of Orion border patrols," Lex replied, jumping directly to the point and refusing to dally on morning salutations.
"I don't know them," Rikard replied. "Now if it's all the same to you, I'd like to take my breakfast beside the pool..., and since this is the first vacation I've taken from being supreme dictator of all known existence in about three hundred years, I think I can get away with something alcoholic."
Lex didn't appear particularly amused, "I require the data. You will give it to me." He kept his tone even, staring darkly at Rikard. "Or must I demonstrate the extent of my dominance over you?"
Rikard rubbed his nose and sighed. "I think I'd rather skip that, it isn't conducive to my relaxation regimen." He bounced in his slippers. "The Orions patrol their borders using mercenary vessels, however their laxity in doing so has repeatedly been discussed at Amsus High Command. We toy with the idea of invading the Orion territory from time to time. The problem is that it would be entirely too easy to overthrow the Orion Directorate, and given the amount of corruption that seems to make the whole kit and caboodle flow, it would be a logistical nightmare to even attempt to bring order there. I usually prefer to maintain the mental stability of those under me."
"Then it should be easy to penetrate their defences?" Lex pressed.
"I'll show you," Rikard replied, making his way forward along the length of the ship, climbing aboard one of the Mechs that had been specially designed as a conveyance through the industrialized nightmare of a warship. His two companions accompanied him as the device whisked him up towards the main access way to the bridge.
Rikard ignored the golden panelled corridor as he walked past the braziers casting the heavy script in flickering light. He never had time for the Templar's Edict, and he wasn't about to start wasting his time with the inane ramblings of madness, not when he had to deal with an equally insane computer program.
The bridge was pristinely untouched. Unlike the rest of the ship; it existed in its original state: a place of shadow malice, bathed in the eerie red light cast by the liquid state computer core that was the AI. The mobile projector flickered off as the static devices on the bridge engaged, reconstructing the image of the long dead warlord, complete with what Rikard had dubbed 'casual priest' attire. He was beginning to identify the AI's moods by the its choices in digital clothing.
"You're expecting to avoid a fight," Rikard observed, moving to look down at the situation table before him, "which is probably a good idea. I..."
Rikard stopped glancing at the map and blinking at the course, recognizing the Nav points lit up and flashing for attention. "Keppe? This is a pleasure cruise."
Lex appeared to ignore the jibe, keeping his gaze squarely on Rikard. "Plot a course that would offer me the best chance of evading detection."
"Far be it for me to get between you and your little siesta," Rikard muttered tapping commands into the CIC table, "if you transmit the codes I am giving you, you should register as a Denver Corporation trading vessel."
"You are fortunate that I know you so well," Lex replied. "Another may have used this as an opportunity to alert the Orions to the imminent danger I represent to them. However, you are a coward, and you would never endanger my safety when in a situation where your survival is dependant upon mine. I appreciate organics I can understand."
"I am so glad I can offer you consistency," Rikard replied sarcastically, "Now about breakfast?"
"You may leave now if you wish," Lex replied, resting his hand upon the crystal baton on the situation table. Rikard's mind noted the gesture, and he quickly buried the thought in his deepest subconscious where he could study it later. The compartmentalization of his mind had preserved some of his most dangerous secrets from the nanobots in his head. He had trained himself to think on a multitude of levels, a survival trait that had seen him through much of his early life. It now served as a way for him to keep pieces of himself strictly his own. And more aptly, it preserved his rather complicated escape plan safely away from the AI's awareness.
He wandered away from the bridge, allowing his mind to remain blank as he absently concentrated, feeling the monitoring that swept through his surface thoughts, deliberately choosing the most boring of memories, Amsus regulation committee meetings on the benefits of widening roads throughout the Hegemony by an additional one centimetre. It was an almost narcoleptic memory, perfect for his needs as his mind's filters allowed a trickle of his true thoughts to show into his memory.
The nanobots scanned and promptly returned to their slumber, as Rikard observed the Peligian crystal baton that Lex had rested his hand upon. Wasn't that a non-physical manifestation of the hologram? Usually, but it had been present when he had walked in, separate from the main image. Which meant that....
His mind snapped back to the Amsus meeting, allowing it to flow over the cost benefit analyses of increased reliance upon Orion insurance companies as compared to the status quo, the nanobots rousing themselves to check again, before they slipped back into their slumber and Rikard focused again on the key details.
If it was a projection, then why waste power to show it constantly? Lex wasn't an individual that would waste power on cosmetic shows, and given the lack of use the baton served... that meant that it was real, and if it was real, what use would the AI have for it? He sincerely doubted that Lex held any sentimental attachment to it, and that of course meant that it served some kind of purpose.
Keppe, the former high seat of House Kardiac, and now the crystal. It seemed that there was more to the trip than Rikard could allow himself to think. He switched back to his normal methodology of thinking as he sauntered through the lower decks, winding his way towards the machine shops, and an alternate way back to one of the mess halls.
The Mech guarding him seemed to have no problem whenever Rikard took a wander, and as yet there had been nowhere on the ship Rikard had been restricted from. There was literally nowhere for the former Chancellor to run to. He was as much a prisoner free and roaming as he was caged, so he didn't bother to attempt an escape, instead biding his time, learning as much as he could.
There was a section of the machine shops rigged with polyurethane, clouding everything beyond, and Rikard took a deliberate turn to wander through the partitions. Five days stranded aboard the battleship, and at least it was a distraction from the usual monotony.
The smile that graced his features curled his lip as he stared at the lattice cage. Nightmarish and spiked, it was almost anachronistic, but that was a feature of Lex's personal tastes Rikard was growing accustomed to. It was what lay through the bars that caused Rikard to smile.
"Lieutenant Galadriel," he greeted with a chuckle.
She sat rigid, turning to face him. The cuts and bruises on her face had been tended, but they were still only a few days old. Her confused look was quickly smothered beneath her professionalism as she drew the blanket she was wearing tight around her, pulling her long hair back.
"In-flight entertainment?" he asked, looking up towards the security camera set in the ceiling.
There was no reply and Rikard sighed as he crossed to the bars, sitting down with his back resting against them he glanced at her. "You look terrible."
"You sound almost concerned," Galadriel replied, standing rigidly behind him. "Is this another holographic game, or have you joined forces with Lex?"
"Hardly," Rikard replied resting a chin on his hand. "Of course, if the offer came up, I'd probably consider it at this juncture, but then I always was a little reticent in making deals with the pathologically demented. It tends to be a bit tedious."
"You're a prisoner as well?" Galadriel replied, the realization hitting her.
Rikard turned, a little surprised it had taken her that long to work it out, but as quickly as the emotion showed on his face he smothered it with a perfect Rikard expression of superior indifference. "I am merely biding my time, thank you very much, an intermission on life..."
"Thus the PJ's?" Galadriel observed, "Is this what every well dressed overlord is wearing this season?"
"This from someone wearing a blanket and little else?" Rikard allowed a suggestive leer as he glanced her up and down. "Now forgive me, because I've been saying this a lot lately, but aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"I was captured by your pet," Galadriel replied with a nod towards the Mech that waited patiently by the doors, "and then with the help of Propylons..."
"Mmm," Rikard nodded in agreement, "handy really, make commuting to work rather easy..."
"You're scared," Galadriel interjected, an observation that stoutly shifted Rikard's perception from earlier that perhaps Galadriel wasn't as observant as he thought she was, squarely back to the spookily observant.
"I don't get scared," he answered dismissively, "I'm a demi-god, scared isn't part of the portfolio."
"My father used to do that; he used to crack a lot of jokes when he was scared, you're a lot like him." She knelt down behind him and he could feel her eyes on his back.
"Please," he sneered, "comparing me to a backwater Italian farmer."
"Indian," Galadriel answered. "Tempus isn't just made up of Italians; House Kardiac is quite ethnically diverse."
Rikard stood up, folding his dressing gown about him petulantly. "I don't have time to hang around here bantering with you."
"I'm sorry, and here I was thinking that's all we do have, time." Galadriel got up as well, resting a hand on the bars. "What did you mean when you said I was dead?"
"You were reported dead," Rikard answered. "They found your body. Now of course I don't hold much stock in obituaries, I've had a bit of a run of bad luck when it comes to them. Count yourself fortunate to be alive, or unfortunate, for that matter, depending on your perspective of what actually being alive means lately. I, for one, am going to find breakfast."
He made to leave, but paused as he looked back at her. "If it counts, I was saddened at the thought you were dead."
Galadriel blinked at the Chancellor's admission, pulling her blanket closer about her, opening her mouth to say something in return, and then closing it again and turning away.
* * *
Thornton District School - Outpost A-IX - Amsus Occupied Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY FOUR
It was murky beyond the windows of the school as Professor Zahn taught his class. A chill that seeped into the air and saturated to the marrow as thunder crackled in the dark sky. It was somehow appropriate that the professor had chosen Poe as the day's reading, walking down the rows of wooden seats between Terran children who eyed him with a mixture of abject terror and respect. It was something that teachers the galaxy over aspired to, and for him it was the pinnacle of his teaching career, to have refined that fine balance into a sharp tool that aided them in their learning.
It had been months since the outpost had been liberated by Taine and the Empire, acting as a clandestine listening post for the Fifth Column resistance as they monitored Amsus FTL communications and tracked fleet movements. General Riley depended on A-IX to stay one step ahead of the armada hunting him, which meant that it had to maintain a low profile. Business as usual continued on the outpost, and that meant at the school as well.
The children were amongst the brightest in the sector, sent to the remote world to a boarding school that dated back almost to the dawn of the first Empire. The rich and affluent under the new hegemony regime, seeking to evade the almost deplorable state of public schools on Earth and the core colonies, sent their children to the furthest reaches in a hope that they would be able to get the very best education they could attain without stepping across the thin line that separated legal studies from the illicit.
Little did they know that the education their children were receiving was well over the line into the illicit. Thornton had become a haven for free thought, a chance for old Imperial educations for those fortunate enough to have the means to pay for it.
The lightning seemed to lengthen in the sky, a drawn out burst of light that made even the professor pause his recitation to stare in surprise out into the rain. There in the darkness an Amsus Raptor was folding its wings in tight against its body, rotating on its VTOL drives to land in the recreation field. Another pair were doing the same further out, ramps unfolding as Amsus troops rushed down to secure a perimeter.
It didn't bode well for either the Fifth Column members that controlled the Amsus garrison, or for the school. Professor Zahn gritted his oversized teeth, gesturing towards the door with a mammoth blue furred hand, "Out!" he commanded to his students. "Get to your dormitories, out!"
They cleared the room as the Professor stood beside his window, watching in earnest as a woman dressed in white furs walked down the ramp of the lead Raptor, tasting the air as behind her a collection of young children were led under heavy Amsus guard.
* * *
Sephradon surveyed the ancient stones before her, a mixture of old world design mixed with the smooth polished concrete and glass of the new. A vaguely neo-gothic structure reminiscent of something Kardiac would have commissioned. Indeed, given how close it was to the Polian boarder, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he did have a hand in its construction.
Twenty-five children had survived the maturation cycle that had aged them to the appropriate ages to attend the school, varying from five on up to their mid teens. Any attempt to push them into adulthood had only served to drive the constructs mad. And she needed them educated and intact if she had any hope of turning the war back upon the Empire.
A-IX suited her purposes exactly, it possessed a first rate education facility as well as sat upon a communication node that fed her front line forces. It was an ideal location for her new strategic operations centre.
She walked across the playing field leading her charges, pausing to stare at the crumpled car in the parking lot. It looked as though something had landed on top of it. Her mind quickly assessing the situation as she glanced at the bullet ridden play structure that hadn't been repaired since a fierce fire fight.
"The Empire was here," she said, her assessment reaching an obvious conclusion. "Order my ship in orbit to deploy suppression forces, and re-secure this outpost."
The Inquisitor at her side inclined his head and hurried off to comply with her wishes. Sephradon nodded as she smiled to herself staring through the rain and the wind towards the large domes and communication dishes off up the hill. Clever. A-IX was far too remote to be under close monitoring from High Command, if Taine and his Imperial's had managed to secure the colony then they would have had almost unlimited access to the Hegemony data net. That could work in her favour, especially if the Empire were unaware that she had retaken A-IX.
She hurried the children inside the school, looking over the collection of familiar and unfamiliar faces. She recognized a few from her own childhood. Jabin, Sarah, and even a pair of Katherines clinging to each other as though they were twin sisters, oblivious to their own origin. Her eyes drifted down over the unfamiliar ones, the children that hadn't succeeded from the GN-2 program. And there was a faint regret that Rikard hadn't made a construct of her youngest brother Ben. Instead her eyes settled on a fifteen-year-old boy she couldn't fail to recognize, a hawkish smile decorating her features as she fixed her attention on him. The last of Rikard's GN-3 constructs, an almost exact duplicate of Prince Edward.
"Duncan," she had called him that on a whim more than anything else. It seemed fitting given VonGrippen's Scottish heritage. "Stop day dreaming."
He glanced at her in surprise, opening his mouth to contradict her, but falling silent again. The constructs had learned that their patron and mistress held an unstable temper and any attempt to challenge or correct her could result in a violent outburst. Instead Duncan bowed his head. "My apologies," he intoned softly in a voice that so reminded her of the long dead Admiral VonGrippen.
She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, as the Amsus emerged from down the corridor escorting members of the faculty with them, amongst them a very rare and strange beast indeed. Sephradon arched her slender brows as she struggled to identify his species, eight feet tall with a gaping maw and tusks, a thin dusting of blue fur over his skin covered by a misshapen tweed suit that looked almost out of place.
"Milady?" The headmaster pushed his way through the crowd of teachers to address her, adjusting his tie and trying to appear unflustered.
"I have new students for you, Headmaster," she responded, motioning to the children behind her. "See to it that they are settled and safe while my forces deal with the vermin infestation on this world."
* * *
Karin Fortress - Karin City - Gorean Occupied Karin
OCCUPATION: DAY FOUR
The Gorean guards stared at him as he walked down the length of the great hallway that connected the Chancellor's office to the council chamber. The man was tall, shrouded in a deep blue robe trimmed with worn gold thread. His face was kept in darkness by a broad curving hat woven from river reads, but his eyes shone with an age that was eternal. The braids and beads hanging down from the hat sheltered the man's neck from the sun. He jangled with each slow and deliberate step, the beads almost musical as they clicked and tinkled together in a Taïrian style.
"Morning, Sirrah," the man greeted, his voice pleasant as he addressed the Gorean guards, leaning his weight on a plain shard of wood polished with time and care. "Sal-zÿr expects me."
The guards parted, confusion on their faces as they did so, uncertain as to why they would allow this strange human through, but they did so.
The man walked into the offices, setting his staff aside at the door as he folded his arms inside his sleeves and looked at the dark haired man asleep on his desk, hair unkempt and a bottle of pills within easy reach. The Chancellor of the Empire slept, snoring lightly, his hand brushing at his ear subconsciously for a moment before he awoke with a start.
"Wh-what?" he blinked, looking around, disorientated for a moment, his gaze eventually locking on to the man before him. "Oh, it's you."
"You were expecting someone else? Perhaps a priest to act as your confessor, Sirrah?" The strange man inquired.
"Oh, so you're not a priest then," Evans answered, falling back into his chair and putting his feet up on the desk, his hand snatching a pitcher of water as he poured himself a glass. "who exactly are you then? A man who allies himself to the Gorean is probably in need of a confessor himself."
"My sins are my own burden," the man replied softly, "and my arrangement with His Watchful Eye allowed me peace of mind, until now."
"Well excuse me if I'm not feeling sorry for your piece of mind," Evans answered coldly. "As you can see I'm a little busy right now administrating a..."
"Vichy government," the newcomer answered. "It was after all what Rikard trained you for, though I am sure that you weren't prepared for who exactly were to be your new overlords."
"What exactly do you want?" Evans demanded, setting his glass down and glaring at him. "As nice as this collaborator's social group is, I don't have time..."
"I have nothing but time," the man answered. "Time is an old ally of mine, and my only master, and while it will burn you until there is nought left but ash, I shall remain, Sirrah, to stoke the fires anew."
"Great, you're a lunatic," Evans observed.
"I am not the one who ran for Chancellor," came the answer.
Evans stared at the other man, shaking his head as he rifled through his desk, "if he hasn't been sent to a Gorean cook pot, I have the number for a good psychiatrist, it sounds as if you need these more than I do."
"I am here for Sal-zÿr," the man said quietly. "Where is the snake?"
"Below, probably," Evans answered with a shrug. "Most likely playing with his Taïrian pet, he seems to enjoy having her to talk to. Her pedantic drivel has been known to cure bouts of insomnia."
The man turned to go.
"Oh and if you do see his reverence," Evans called, "tell him that it is all very well that he take control of the planet, but if he expects me to administrate it alone and without staff..."
The stranger picked up his staff, shaking his head as he left.