We are all just prisoners within a gilded cage of our own devising. It is only when we realize that we are in possession of a key, can we ever free ourselves.
Thornton District School - Outpost A-IX - Amsus Territory
OCCUPATION: DAY SIXTY
Zahn was angry, the bubbling, festering kind of angry that came from deep inside his belly and burbled its way through the very core of his being until it made him almost vibrate with rage. He'd been angry for days; it seemed all it had taken was for one student to pull a stunt to knock him off kilter, and he'd slid deeper and deeper into a cesspool of his own fury.
Duncan had been suspended, well as suspended as a person could be in a boarding school on the frontier of nowhere, which meant that he had been placed on punitive duties such as scrubbing pots and pans in the kitchens in his free time. It hadn't deterred the youth's defiance. It seemed a new fire smouldered beneath the pale youth's brown eyes, a fire that challenged his professors, his fellow newcomers and the Amsus that had brought him back from his excursion into town.
That had been an ordeal the school could well have done without. After all the trouble the inquisition had gone through to hunt down insurgents amidst the population, to have to muster their forces and sweep the town looking for an errant teenager who had gotten it into his head to go wandering...
Then, of course, there was his appearance.
Fellow professors had to physically restrain Zahn from making a vehement example out of a boy who had seen it fit to have not one, but two facial piercings. The eyebrow would have been bad enough, and Zahn still had pleasant daydreams of yanking that one out forcibly. However the one through the right corner of the bottom lip... that was degrading.
Zahn remembered when his species had been subjugated by the Polian Alliance - before they had been deemed fit enough to become full members they had served as slaves. Brass rings fitted through their lips had shown their servitude, and it was offensive to Zahn to be faced with a reminder of that past on a daily basis.
Not that the boy knew any better, of course. But Zahn had taken great pleasure in assigning the history of the Polian Alliance membership as homework to all the newcomers, setting a major exam in a week based off of the topic material. The lead essay question: what it meant to wear a lip piercing in the Polian Alliance.
He stood with his arms folded, glaring at the youth up to his waist in a large stew pot, having visions of stuffing it onto the stove and cranking the heat. Stewed student would just about hit the spot in his opinion. His long muzzle strained forward as he licked his lips to contain his saliva. There were strict rules about eating students and after twenty one years of teaching at Thornton, he wasn't about to break any, even though he was sorely tempted.
Duncan slipped out of the pot and, rolling over to sit upright, looked at the Professor. "What?" he demanded angrily.
"Salt?" Zahn asked, pulling down a large box of refined sea salt.
"You're not going to intimidate me!" Duncan said evenly...
He wasn't prepared for the cavernous roar that replied. Echoing about the kitchen, its ferocity normally terrified students that dared to challenge Zahn's authority. And the boy stuffed a finger into his ear, wiggling it around for a moment before pulling it out, shaking his head.
"That was unnecessary!" Duncan said as he tried to stand up.
Zahn huffed at him, turning on his massive legs, heaving himself up and lumbering away, his ears flicking coldly.
"You know you deserved that," Aleš said, standing at the far end of the serving counter picking at a jelly-pudding cup.
"Shut up," Duncan answered, grabbing his cane and standing upright. "You don't know..."
Aleš sighed hopping up onto the edge of the counter. "You want to talk about it?"
"No," Duncan snapped, "go away."
"Why are you so angry?" Aleš inquired. "Just... I mean since you got out of the tube you've had a major hate on for everything."
Duncan sighed and limped across to the counter. "This may surprise you, but it is very difficult thinking like a happy bunny when you hurt like hell!"
"That's not it," Aleš answered, kicking the counter door with the back of his heel, "'cause the pains psychosomatic, so it's a symptom, along with the anger, of some deep-seated issue." Aleš's eyes sparkled. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Go to hell," Duncan snapped, hauling the pot across the floor to rinse it out with a hose.
"Well, a new look, body mutilation..." Aleš sucked on his teeth. "I think it's some kind of identity crisis." His eyes went wide. "You found out who you were!"
Duncan went rigid, turning slightly. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Bingo," Aleš said, snapping his fingers. "It's okay, I figured out who I was."
Duncan couldn't help but give into his curiosity and turn around. "Who?"
"Jabin Denver, founder of House Denver." He searched the pockets of his school blazer and dragged out a torn page from a history book. "Look. Picture's the same and everything. It says I died of a heart attack just days before the end of the Global Civil War." He grinned. "I found Strega as well, she was General Sarah Merkht, a European Union hero... kinda cool, huh?"
"Disconcerting," Duncan answered. "It's frightening realizing that you're just an echo of a voice hundreds of years in their grave."
"Who were you?" Aleš pressed. "Please, I told you my secret..."
Duncan rested on his cane and glanced at Aleš. "The problem is, I'm not dead. I'm a construct of a person who's still alive... you're an echo, I'm a shadow. Get it now?"
Aleš looked saddened and reached out to touch Duncan's arm. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone, I promise."
Duncan smiled at the eager younger man. "I'm Duncan, that's all that matters now. Hey, have you figured out how to stop House Denver yet?"
"I don't know if I should," Aleš replied with a grin. "I mean I did technically build the house, so I should take it back, right?"
"Strega will be pissy you said that," Duncan answered, finding the humour in their situation.
"Screw her," Aleš replied, "she's got a problem anytime one of us enjoys ourselves." He nodded down to the pot. "Can I help you with that?"
"Sure, Mister Denver," Duncan said with a smile. "Afterwards we can enjoy one of your crappy colas." Duncan pointed across to a crate of Denver Cola sitting beside the walk-in fridge.
"First thing I do when I take over my house," Aleš promised, "is make cola taste like cola!"
"That's a battle slogan," Duncan replied, grinning as the pair of them returned to work.
Processing Camp - North of Karin City - Gorean Occupied Kari
OCCUPATION: Day SIXTY-ONE
Alessandro could see the Low Gorean male at the head of the line. The creature was disinterestedly waving a clawed finger either left or right, sending the prisoners one way or the other. He had another prisoner, dressed in the simple grey flannel fatigues that all the prisoners were wearing, standing beside him acting as a translator. He occasionally stopped prisoners to ask them questions, then waved them on, one at a time.
It was all a confusing blur to the Kardiac Lieutenant, who shivered in the cold without a coat on. They'd taken it as soon as he had been captured, knowing that Imperials liked to hide recallers in odd places. He'd been bruised and battered, stuffed from the original transport into another with more prisoners of war, passed from pillar to post until he had ended up at the camp, not exactly clear as to where he was at all.
He watched the people in line ahead of him. He was not exactly sure of the Gorean's reasons for selection; it wasn't seemingly based on anything more than age or health. The old man just before Alessandro in line had been sent to the left with a disdainful snort as it passed to the next in line.
Without so much as a cursory glance, Alessandro was sent to the right, and as he crossed the stone courtyard he heard the sizzling cracks of Gorean plasma weapons from the building to the left. A cold knot formed in his stomach as he realized they were executing the prisoners sent that way.
They were led into a long room, Gorean screaming at them, the large jaws of the brutal looking creatures snapping at the soft humans. A terrifying look into one of the gaping maws had caused a couple of young women ahead of him to scream in fear as they clung to each other, like cadged animals looking for a way to escape.
Alessandro was prodded by the butt of a plasma rifle. Thrust forward, he stumbled as he observed the other new arrivals shucking their clothes. Those that didn't were being soundly beaten by their captors.
It was frigid, even with the specially designed Imperial combat clothing, and Alessandro, a native of provincial Tempus and used to a mean temperature around a steady twenty five degrees, dreaded the thought of getting naked. He had to will himself to take off his sweater, tossing it into a pile as a Gorean leaned over him, the drool from his sharp teeth running down and over Alessandro's shoulder. There was a moment's thought of stuffing the plasma rifle somewhere particularly unpleasant, but a quick glance at the large, malicious thug forced him to quickly change his mind. He couldn't run away, he couldn't fight; all he could do is obey and wait for rescue. Katz would come for him. That was a certainty and Alessandro clung to it.
It was hard to remain dignified when he was shivering and naked. But he tried his best to show strength in the face of his captors. They were in a prisoner of war camp and, given how harsh the Karin environment was on the best of days, he knew that only by keeping himself strong would he be able to survive until his rescue.
On the transport, he'd clung to his faith. The dog tags hanging around his neck with their templar cross still firmly in place had found their way into his hand, and Alessandro had found a prayer on his tongue. His faith was all he had, stripped of his recaller and bereft of a TAC-link. He was far away from his home, from his beloved mother. Lost on a planet with millions of other people that would look just like him on the Excalibur's sensors.
As he had stepped off that final transport and into the hell that was the camp, he knew that he had to keep faith. There was an Immortal Emperor, he was real, and that meant there was hope.
There were other prisoners that were moving through the crowds, electric tattooing devices in their hands, branding people under the watchful eyes of the guards. Things that were written in Gorean that looked shockingly like a best before date. Alessandro's faith slipped a little as the sharp pain struck his arm and he too was branded. And with a smug grin from his captors, he was pushed out of the long room and into the mud and slush beyond.
His group stumbled forward as a huddled mass, starting and stopping, edging forward haltingly. All Alessandro could see was heads, and he craned his head to see what was happening ahead of him.
"You!" a large, clawed hand descended, shocking Alessandro as its claws bit into his shoulder, dragging him out of the crowd and all but hurling him aside. The lesser Gorean manhandling the human like he was a doll.
He couldn't think, his mind reeling over why he'd been singled out. He tried to find his feet. A hand picked him up, another young man wearing a set of dog tags, Karin marine by his look. He put himself squarely between the Gorean and Alessandro, his chest puffed out boldly and his jaw set despite the fact that he was cold and naked.
The Gorean took a single step forward, covering the distance between them, his muscled arm swinging in a broad backhand arc, striking the marine full force, throwing him across the ground and causing him to crash into a crowd of other prisoners.
A heavy, armoured set of spines around the back of his head flared up. Red and black spikes that stood straight out as the creature breathed. He pointed a barbed claw straight at Alessandro.
"You," it spat with a hiss, "come!"
Alessandro started to follow, watching the other marine's face and trying to memorize it. Remembering that he owed the man, and vowing to himself that he would not forget that.
Alessandro followed the Gorean back outside again, behind the building. There was no one else around and Alessandro stood there shivering, trying to keep his dignity. It was hard, standing there in the arctic wind with nothing to cover himself.
"A word of advice," the Gorean said in flawless English. "If you wish to stay alive then give them no reason to kill you.
Without warning the Gorean struck out again, a spinning blow that sent the lieutenant crashing into the slush, the breath knocked out of him. "Another piece of advice," the creature hissed, watching as Alessandro tried to haul himself closer to the wall. "You're food. Remember that one well!"
"W...why?" Alessandro gasped trying to haul himself upright.
"Because His Watchful Eye sees all!" the Gorean said reverently. "He knows you, Alessandro Mandola, and he is especially interested in your continued existence."
Alessandro clawed his way up to his feet, confusion spreading across his face as he stared at the bizarre creature. "I don't understand..."
The Gorean's fan of spikes resettled against its head. "You are not meant to, and that is all. We should finish getting you processed."
Alessandro was pushed roughly forward around to the opposite side of the building. The men and women from his transport were slowly coming out of it. He scanned their faces for any sign of the marine, but through the hazy cold and with their shorn heads, it was impossible for him to recognize anyone.
Another Gorean spotted them as the first pushed Alessandro into line with the others. He hissed something in the Lesser Gorean's sibilant tongue, a claw pointing towards Alessandro's intact hair.
The first hissed back, his rasps wavering and raising defiantly as his heavy tail swished back and forth threateningly. Both bared their teeth in what sounded like laughter, as the first clipped Alessandro with a clawed hand and pushed him away.
Shuffling forward, Alessandro found he no longer cared, not anymore. His whole life had prepared him for his duty, but nothing had prepared him for that moment, stranded there in the sub-zero temperatures. He felt the weight of it all crashing down upon him and he struggled to keep on, glancing up towards one of the fences at a broad striped muzzle of a Taďrian prisoner he vaguely recognized. Hope sparked again at the memory of a name...
Captain Shale.
Subterranean Power Plant - Karin Fortress - Karin City
OCCUPATION: DAY SIXTY-ONE
Being locked deep within the ground was trying at the best of times. Being stranded with nearly five thousand people, crammed into the service corridors of a fusion power plant, was very close to unbearable.
Walker was a watcher; he always enjoyed finding a nice, shadowed spot from which he could observe his people without them knowing he was doing so. And standing up, atop a disused transformer, amidst the tree-like pylons that fed cables to and from various junctions and sub stations, he could watch a slice of life unfolding below him.
Three months, they had settled into a routine that approximated life. The Karin refugees had built temporary lives for themselves as they constructed some small measure of privacy using what ever they could find. A family of four had used an oversized packaging crate as a home, piling their parkas up like blankets while they huddled around a space heater waiting for the next ration of food to be handed out.
Walker had always lived a distant life from his people. He'd existed inside his fortress away from the general population, apart from them in his thinking as well as in his actions. But to now find himself thrust into such close proximity with them he was learning what it meant to be truly Karin born.
His people were survivors. They didn't meekly bow their heads as he had assumed, instead they thrived on adapting, and accepting their lot until something better came along. They placed their faith in the Immortal Emperor and waited, sharpening weapons of war that would see them fight back when he came for them.
It was a new culture, or an old one revived. The children separated from their families during the day learned to fight from the collection of Fida'i that had formed the mainstay of Walker's personal bodyguard. The brutal training verged on abuse; children barely of an age to be walking were learning how to kill, to survive and to take pain.
At first he had been reluctant to permit it, but his belief in the notion that children deserved better was quickly replaced by the realism of their situation. Mathematics, although important, was replaced with martial combat. The sciences were adapted, as demolitions experts from the fusiliers taught the children how to sabotage buildings. And the Wolves, in their hardened battle amour, with their fanatical loyalty to the Emperor, taught them how to prepare for death.
The Imam that had been stranded with them had summed up their situation for Walker. "You must no longer think and feel like a man. This is our Alamut, and you are their old man of the mountain. The Fida'i will prepare them, Allah will protect them, and you must command them. Karin is your world, Lord, and you must take it back."
Walker was no Taine; he couldn't do what that man had done. He felt each of the blows that fell upon a twelve year old as he fought two older boys and received a sound beating for his trouble. He could see the anger in his people's eyes whenever they turned towards the great blast doors that protected them, or up towards the surface of their world. The sun was beginning to fade into a memory as the days dragged into months.
Walker often found himself sitting with the Muslim elders, listening to their thoughts, and to their stories of the past. Of their survival during the persecution by Kardiac. Their trials made his own situation seem paltry. And yet it was the here and now Walker was consumed with.
The rush to shelter had brought its share of problems, and there had been a time, sealed away from the rest of the world, where the food stores had looked precariously Spartan. But the Fida'i were efficient hunter gatherers, finding ways through the lower tunnels and out into the valleys of the mountain range that Karin city was built upon. Cultivated game parks stuffed full of wildlife that had been sport for the Pirate Barons now served as food for their forgotten subjects.
Food was food, but even so, Walker was beginning to get a little sick of the near constant Elk and Boar that had become their staple diet. And whenever Excalibur managed to exchange supplies with them it was actually a relief to eat ration packs.
He folded his arms and rested on a protrusion, wishing there was something more that he could do. He did his best to negotiate for supplies, mediate disputes, everything a politician was required to do in a crisis. He was the only clear civilian leader there, and he found they relied heavily on him for strength, strength he hadn't realized he'd had.
Pulling the TAC-link from his shirt pocket he ran a thumb over the worn edges, pausing before he flipped it open, lifting it to his mouth and taking a deep breath. "Taine?"
There was a moment while the TAC-link connected him through the Imperial network, and Taine's tired voice sounded on the other end of the connection. "How are you holding up?"
"That's usually my question for you," Walker said, sitting down on the edge of the substation so that his long legs dangled over it, what were once expensive shoes tapping against the worn metal.
"I felt like a change of routine tonight," Darien answered. "It's been a long day, I have a couple of pilots down."
"I can have my hunting parties keep a look out for them," Walker offered, wishing that he had a cigarette despite the law that was still technically in effect, "but they don't stray far from the game reserves."
"Mayfair is keeping an eye out for them," Darien said. "I have faith we'll find them. Masconi's a little frantic; one of them is her cousin..."
"Understandable given all she's lost of late," Walker answered fumbling through his pockets and clipping a headset to the TAC-link, he slipped the rig on his head and rotated the display before his eye. "Its your turn to go first."
The go board shimmered into existence before them and displayed Darien's move; he'd been waiting to get started. Walker smiled as he plotted his opening strategy. "How's Edward?"
"Tired," Darien answered truthfully. "The Propylon system was knocked off line. The Gorean are... more creative than the Amsus are. He's working flat out on it, so I've barely seen him in two days."
"I see," Walker answered patiently, taking his turn and falling quiet over the next series of moves.
"You're pensive." Darien's voice sounded concerned.
"Finding the right way to ask you something," Walker admitted. "I like to be tactful when broaching difficult topics."
"We're well past tact in our friendship," Darien replied. "You should drop the formalities."
"Familiarity breeds contempt," Walker chuckled. "Okay then, blunt it is. Why the hell hasn't Edward beaten the crap out of every Gorean on the planet?"
There was a faltering on the line, and Darien's next move denoted that he was unsettled by the question. Walker allowed him the mistake, but waited patiently for an answer.
Darien answered after the pause had extended far too long. "I don't know, I get the impression that he's waiting for something. I can't explain why he does things anymore... it's like he's evolved past our way of thinking, if he ever thought like us."
"He is on a higher plane of existence," Walker reminded, choosing his next series of moves, taking advantage of Darien's distraction, "he can't think like we do."
"It's beyond that," Darien fought back, as if noticing his earlier mistakes, laying pieces in rapid succession to Walker's. Thinking on the run, Darien's hallmark. "It's like he's vastly intelligent, seeing everything in a different perspective than anyone else, and he gets a look on his face when he's just explained what he's doing that says 'you're Darien, I know you don't understand'." He faltered a little. "Its like I'm a child learning to eat, and I've gone and put my bowl of spaghettios on my head..."
"Don't," Walker warned, his stomach rumbling at the thought of something different for a change. "I really miss canned pasta..."
"I'll dig up a can for you once the Propylons are back online," Darien reassured him, "we have tonnes. But you can see my problem with trying to understand his plans at times?"
Walker bobbed his head thoughtfully. "Yes, I think it is a matter of placing our faith in our Immortal Emperor. That he'll take action when it's needed..."
"Yes, but that doesn't work all the time," Darien answered. "I hate to say it, but I think we're on our own when it comes to the Gorean. Matty will act when he's ready, if he can act, but we can't count on that."
"Then its down to you," Walker stated, feeling the pressure of Taine's rapid moves, giving ground as he did so. "What do you plan to do about the Gorean?"
"We're back to square one without the Propylons," Darien admitted. "I may have to change my strategy in dealing with them. Did you have any luck accessing the historical database?"
"I have partial access." Walker knew he'd lost the game, but he played on determined to see it through to the end. "VonGrippen fought them in a way the Gorean had never seen before. He fought, and fought and fought. Every inch of ground they took from him cost them in gallons of their blood. It gives no reason why the Gorean refuse to attack the Excalibur directly, however it happened suddenly, one day they just stopped fighting him. Possibly VonGrippen simply killed too many of them with that ship..."
"I wish I could meet with His Watchful Eye," Darien mused quietly. "Maybe I could gain some insight in how to fight them. Well, for now, all we can do is sit under siege until something changes."
"Then we're in this for the long haul." Walker surrendered the game, flipping back the optical display and staring down at the boys preparing for war, knowing that they weren't going to be spared it. There was no easy victory for Karin. It showed that VonGrippen had the only answer, which was that they simply had to fight.
"Another game?" Darien offered through the line.
Walker shook his head. "No, I've no taste for war games right now."
"I know," Darien agreed. "I'll speak to you again tomorrow my friend."
"Sleep well," Walker replied, shutting off his TAC-link and closing his eyes, listening to the sounds of war all around him.
Ready room - HMS Excalibur CVX-11 - Karin System
OCCUPATION: Day SIXTY-ONE
Masconi sat beside the podium, her flight suit hanging open, staring at the ranks of empty chairs where her pilots, Katz's pilots now, received their daily briefings.
She gripped a bottle of red wine by the neck, unopened. She simply couldn't bring herself to uncork it; the finality of what that would mean was something she just couldn't bear. So much loss, such a short time to deal with it...
Maybe Mayfair was right. He'd gotten the hell off of Excalibur, dropping with his troops to the surface. Leaving her behind, and leaving behind the pain that was locked inside her tight decks.
She stood, falling back down again, closing her eyes as she rested her head against the podium's pedestal.
Death, life, it played such a pivotal role to her family. An entire generation of it now rested with her. Alessandro had meant so much, the hope of the family continuing, of strong sons that he was supposed to have... Supposed to have. She was sounding like her father.
She felt guilty; she shouldn't have interfered with him and Katz, it had been cruel, cold... calculated. She wasn't that kind of person, was she? Was she the sort of person that felt it was okay so long as it wouldn't threaten her family? Too much death, too much blood. Why hadn't she given her cousin a chance to love?
Standing again, she willed herself to stay upright, walking out of the ready room and finding her way back along the ship. Crew members scuttled out of her way, avoiding the obviously staggering senior officer, knowing it was probably wise to stay out of her way.
It was some ridiculous time in the hours before morning; she glanced at the ruined bridge, the devastation of the ship and the insanity of officers struggling to work despite it.
She felt cumbersome, like her presence there was somehow a part of that devastation. She felt the weight of the bottle in her hand, it wasn't enough. To sum up another member of her family as just another bottle from a vineyard back home. The grapes were considered the best on Tempus, and yet Masconi knew that every member of her family thought them sour. Blood did that to wine.
Darien's stateroom door was open, and she crossed it, reaching the heavy metal inner door that housed his quarters. Closing her eyes, she pounded upon it.
He answered the door, looking utterly exhausted. His hair dishevelled, he pulled on the white tunic over his undershirt. "What is it?" he asked, looking confused at the absence of an alarm.
She stared at him. "We have to arrange a rescue party," she said determinedly.
"For what?" Darien asked.
"For Alessandro," she said staring at him incredulously, "who'd you think?"
Darien touched her arm. "Angelina, I have a list on my desk of people reported as missing in action..."
"He's not missing in action," she said, her voice pitching up an octave. "He's down there, we both know it, and if we don't act fast he's going to be..."
Darien looked at her in concern, "I know, Wing Commander, but there's nothing we can do. The fact that we got Katz back to the ship was a miracle... I'm sorry, I don't know where your cousin is. I can't launch a rescue mission if I don't know..."
Masconi turned, striding back to the middle of the stateroom, rounding on him. "If it was Elias, Katz...any of us. You would be going ape-shit right now trying to get us out..."
Darien glanced back into the room behind him, stepping out to allow the door to close behind him. "That's unfair Wing Commander. I'm willing to do something, you tell me what I should do, and I'll do it..."
Masconi pointed at the door behind him. "Wake up that omniscient boyfriend of yours and find out..." she demanded angrily.
"Masconi," Darien said soothingly, "he doesn't know. He's trying to find out... but he's exhausted too. We all are, we're not..."
"Not what, Dee?" Masconi asked, biting her lip painfully as she began to pace to and fro. "Not gods? Oh wait, one of us is a god Dee, at least he claims to be. Well wake the god, tell him to get off his ass and do something..."
Darien shook his head. "You're drunk, Wing Commander..."
"I should hope that I'm drunk," Masconi yelled back at him, "because between this ship, and your inability to actually lead it..."
"That's enough, Wing Commander," Darien's replied, a note of warning in his voice. "Go below..."
"Go below and deal with it?" Masconi said, rolling her shoulders. "That's your answer for everything. Deal with it. We lose Kendrick, we dealt. We lose Firlotte, we dealt. We lose Galadriel, we dealt. I lose my father... Lauren... I am not going to loose Allie to your goddamned inability to keep the people that follow you alive!"
"Stop it!" Darien warned, raising his finger, "I mean it, don't push me..."
"I'm pushing you, Dee," Masconi said, lifting the bottle in her hands, gesturing with it angrily, "'cause someone has to. You're sitting here on this fucking ship, while people down there, on the planet that you swore to protect, are dying... on your watch."
"You're relieved," Darien said pointing to the door. "Get out!"
Masconi shook her head, taking a step towards the door, before turning and hurling the bottle across the room at him. It exploded against the shelf beside him, spraying red wine across his face and the pristine white uniform, soaking in as it ran down his neck.
Around her, a pair of Fida'i streaked out of shadows, ready to defend their Aga'khan.
Darien's eyes opened, shaking his head at them to hold. He looked back at her, "Get off my ship," he said quietly, dangerously.
Mess hall- HMS Excalibur CVX-11 - Karin System
OCCUPATION: Day SIXTY-TWO
"I have chicken fingers." Edward waggled his tray tantalizingly under Doctor Kyr's nose. The good doctor snuffled a moment, a glazed look swept across his face. He turned in his chair.
"Mmm," Kyr salivated, running his tongue down one of his incisors as he stared at the platter. "You're bribing me. What do you want?" the doctor asked, pulling off his reading glasses and folding his arms, trying not to look at the platter of mouth-wateringly succulent chicken encased in bread...
He dragged his eyes back up to his friend. "Stop that!"
Edward beamed at him. "You want it, I know you do."
"Yes," Kyr nodded, "but what's it going to cost me? My first litter of puppies?"
Edward clicked his tongue. "You don't trust me," he accused, looking hurt. "My best friend in the whole wide universe and you think I want something..." He grinned. "Actually I do."
Kyr eyed Edward with suspicion, reaching out a hand to poke one of the chicken fingers. "What?"
"Nothing bad," Edward replied, rolling his eyes, "I just want you to go talk to Alvin, he's been through a lot and I think he could use a little counselling."
"I'm a doctor, not a psychologist," Kyr pointed out. "I can prescribe him some anti-depressants and refer him to... Right, we're under siege."
Edward nodded his head, sniffing the plate before him and licking his lips. "Yummy..."
"All right," Kyr stated, snatching the plate away. "Bribe accepted. I'll talk to Alvin. Where is he?"
"You know the shuttle bay?" Edward smiled.
"The little one that doesn't actually have a shuttle in it?" Kyr asked, sinking his teeth into one of the chicken strips and sighing blissfully.
"The one Darien does that... thing in..." Edward waggled his eyebrows.
"Whack-fuck?" Kyr offered. "Because he isn't very good at golf?"
"Yeah," Edward smirked, "that's the one. It's near to where Firlotte's berth was, so I think he was looking for somewhere quiet."
Kyr bobbed his head, getting up and finishing the last chicken finger, expressively smacking his lips as he licked his fingers clean. "I'll try talking to him. But doesn't Mayfair do a better job at these things?"
"Both Mayfair and Masconi are down at Fort Wallace. They aren't much better, Mayfair's a wreck after Lauren, and the EWO we lost when Katz was shot down was Masconi's cousin... she had a bit of a meltdown last night. Darien sent Commander Durnham to Expedition Two in the last FTL-feed, so we have kinda a high amount of grief going around right now, and not a lot of officers..."
"And Darien isn't exactly Mister Compassionate," Kyr finished. "Nice guy, terrible at sympathy. I'll see what I can do for Katz."
"Thank you," Edward beamed, reaching out to un-tuck Kyr's shirt from his trousers. "That's a bowling shirt, it's not supposed to go in..."
Kyr glanced down at the borrowed clothing. The Excalibur was running short on virtually everything, and Kyr had a high turnover of clothing in his profession. He'd been borrowing from Matt's wardrobe for the most part, both men fairly similar in stature and size. But Kyr was finding it hard to work out how to wear most of the things; even when he chose something almost conservative he ended up getting it wrong.
The doctor worked his way back along the Excalibur's length, instead of descending to cross the empty Mech bay catwalk he climbed a ladder, working back through the more disused engineering spaces that serviced the air-conditioning units of the Excalibur, rounding a corner and passing the empty bunk that had been the Karin Engineer's.
He felt for Katz, Firlotte had been a solid officer, unafraid to step into the breach when he had to. Kyr hadn't personally spent much time with him, but knew that he had been close to Katz.
The shuttle bay was a throwback to the ships UN days, a concession to a need for the ship to possess operational lifeboats for every crewmember. The shuttle was rendered redundant with VonGrippen's refit of the ship, and the bay had remained disused for centuries, until Darien had discovered it several years before and turned it into his own personal relaxation space.
He tried to think of a way to broach the subject that was bothering the Squadron leader as he stood just inside the hatch on the main deck of the shuttle bay. The floor plan of the grand chamber was parabolic, with the outer doors occupying most of the curved far wall. His footsteps echoed as he entered the open space.
Golf clubs and a little mat of green faced the massive bay doors, next to them a digital reader and a small computer that predicted where the ball would go were it able to travel its full distance. Boxes lined the edges of the room, packaging crates that stored much of the gear for the Peligian expedition and, atop one, turning a worn red baseball cap over in his hands, Katz was sitting.
"Hey," Kyr offered, wondering how he was supposed to start the conversation. He decided something plain and simple would suit best.
"Doc," Katz answered tonelessly. His eyes weren't sad, or angry, or anything. They were filled with a watery nothing - a look that was completely barren and unbearable. There was a glassiness there that Kyr could best describe as metal covered with a thick sheet of ice.
"Matty said you were up here." Kyr shifted and walked further into the room, finding a large box of his own, he climbed atop it and sat down cross-legged. "So..."
"What's the matter?" Katz asked. "You've been sent to figure that one out?"
"Well," Kyr offered a lopsided shrug, "I kinda think I know what the matter is. I'm more here in case you feel the need to talk about it."
"I'll be okay," Katz reassured, he lifted the cap in his hand. "Just trying to figure some stuff out that's all."
"You were close to Firlotte, it's understandable that you would want to seek some meaning in his death." Kyr picked at his shoe lace. "I don't know if I'd be taking his loss as well were I in your shoes."
"You've never been in love," Katz said simply, "and I thought I was in love with him. But if I was in love with him, why aren't I crying?"
"It takes time to accept..." Kyr began.
"That's not it," Katz replied. "Take Alessandro. I was so angry with him for not telling me the truth, then I find out it's not what I thought it was, and then he was gone as well..."
"Alessandro," Kyr murmured, snapping his fingers, "the boy with you on Mars. Masconi's cousin." He chewed on his lip, "you were intimate with him as well?"
"Yes and no," Katz answered. "Much the same as Firlotte, wrong time and place... that or I was just wrong. But I should feel something there as well, right? I mean I had feelings for both of them... right?"
"I can't answer that," Kyr stared up at Katz's grey eyes, eyes that seemed devoid of anything except that same emptiness he had seen before. "I think you're just in denial about..."
"He was taken by the Gorean," Katz said, shaking his head. "Chances are he is dead by now. I'm not going to see him again, nothing I can do, no hope. Gone... and I'm just feeling this... detachment. I'm not happy, not sad... I just feel like everything's too far away from me right now."
"What were you trying to figure out?" Kyr asked, trying to change track.
"This," Katz held up the hat. "It meant everything to Firlotte. He belonged to something, same as Alessandro. It was what made them who they were, the fact that they were a part of something bigger than just them. I've never really had that. I've always been alone, even right now. I cared about them, I am sure of that, but I was still alone."
Kyr chewed on his lip and stood up. "I don't think you're alone," he said, trying to reassure the young pilot. "You're just looking for where you belong. So you're not a VonGrippen, not a Kardiac, or even a Karin born for that matter. Heck, neither am I..."
"Katz House." Katz attempted, and failed, to crack a smile. "Cats are loners, right?"
Kyr smiled warmly. "My mother always used to say 'if you don't belong anywhere, make your own place to belong'."
"Wise woman," Katz replied, shrugging his shoulders as if to shake off an unwelcome touch, and placing the cap on the box below him.
"Stubborn diva," Kyr confided. "She was always on the go, never seemed to settle anywhere for long. Price she paid for being famous. There were always cameras around, part of why I want peace when I settle down. It used to drive her mad."
"Want a coffee?" Katz asked, climbing down from his high perch. "Tell me more about your family."
Kyr nodded his head, walking with Katz away from where he had left the baseball cap, "Well she was in a couple of pretty famous films..."
Katz nodded. "I've been thinking a lot about family, since Methuselah's Dűm, remembering what little I can about mine. Though I've got a healthy 'whatever' attitude about it now."
"Is that really healthy?" Kyr asked as they proceeded through a service corridor and entered the main backbone corridor that ran along the Excalibur's spine. He looked at Katz a little worriedly. "You have to deal with stuff eventually."
Katz shrugged, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands. "Why? I make my own family, and sure people come and go, but they've been doing that all the way through my life. Ashley and Alessandro, they're just the latest to pass through my life. Everyone else will come and go, that's the way it is." He turned to the doctor. "Like you, how many times have we really talked before this, one on one? Aside from the time aboard R-403, not much. I know you're a virgin, that you're a doctor, and that you're best friends with Matt..."
"You now know my mom's an actress," Kyr replied with a sigh. "How about a deal? I'm not going anywhere, I've got a bad habit of sticking close to people I like, must be the canine in me."
"You want to be close to me?" Katz asked with a soft smile. "Then you'd best buy yourself some life insurance, cause it seems people close to me like to die."
"You're not a black widow," Kyr reassured. "You're not cursed to lose everyone that loves you. You've just... it's just..."
Katz smiled tightly. "Coffee, and we'll take it a day at a time, and well... whatever." He shrugged.
"With everyone off the ship, you're the Excalibur's Executive Officer," Kyr pointed out. "They need you, we need you to be..."
"All that I can be." Katz finished. "Yeah, I know." He touched the Lieutenant Commander's insignia on his collar. "Hollow gesture, I'm not trained to..."
"You're doing fine," Kyr stated firmly. "Now, coffee?"
Monastery - Keppe - Orion Territory
OCCUPATION: Day SIXTY-TWO
Rikard was conspicuously absent when she awoke. She felt the spot in bed where he had been, a calm smile spreading across her face as she sat up, pulling her hair back and quickly getting dressed. She didn't know how much time she had, but if she was to do what she had to do, she would have to act quickly.
Part of her felt dirty for what she was doing, and again she eyed the spot in bed that he had claimed. But she couldn't dwell on that. He had to know on some level that she was using him, manipulating him the way he manipulated everything around him. She didn't have time to think about it.
Pulling on one of his cotton shirts, she sprinted down the stairs, slipping out of the house and into the courtyard. It was packed with the early morning tourists exploring the monastery, unaware of its dual role in the evening.
She recognized several of the monks that serviced clients in the evening, appearing pious and sedate the day after, tending gardens and practicing religious chants as they ceremonially walked around clutching copies of the Templar's Edict. A farce, painted to resemble what she knew, like her. The model of piety by day, but when night fell, just another whore...
She couldn't think like that, and she struggled to get her mother's voice out of her head, keeping her eyes peeled for Lex's ever vigilant Mechs. They had to be there, but with holographic masks they could be anyone around her. She simply had to risk it.
Slipping through the crowds, she exited the monastery, climbing aboard one of the busses that would take her into the main city. She sat down and politely bought a pair of dark sunglasses from a little boy with a tray of the things strapped to his chest, leaning up so that she could reach them out of the bus window.
It was a gloriously fine day, the sun streaming down with a rare heat that was refreshing after the air-conditioned normality of space. She shifted in her seat, lifting a leg up and under her as the bus started off, roaring on its over sized, gas guzzling engine. And she could finally put her head down, trying to think of what she was doing.
Doctor Kyr, she had remembered, was from Keppe. He often talked about his mother in passing, a famous actress from the Entertainment world. All she had to do was get a message through to her, and hopefully she would pass it on to her son. That meant Darien.
Of course Keppe had a population approaching a billion. And there were many 'famous' actresses on the world, and ten times as many aspiring actresses. Finding Mrs Kyr was going to be difficult, and once Rikard realized she was missing, he would find her immediately.
It wasn't going to be easy, but she needed to start somewhere. The answer to her problem wouldn't just fall into her lap...
It didn't' exactly do that, more arrived in the form of a three story billboard attached to a coffee shop in the middle of the busiest stretch of highway in the massive city.
Galadriel stood under it, shielding her sun-glassed eyes as she stared up at the massive advertisement for a film entitled, "Dragon's fire," where a beautiful young woman was running from something looking suspiciously like a Gorean. The woman could have been Kyr's sister which meant that, given Kaynin physiology and the fact that they never seemed to look older than a human teenager, she could very well be his mother. Valeria Kyr.
This naturally led to Galadriel finding herself on one of the tours that promised to take its passengers to as many starlets' houses as they could, an allowed those on the tour to board and disembark whenever they wanted. Galadriel had bought herself a coffee, watching the bus rattle its way through some of the ritziest neighbourhoods she had ever seen while a bored Orion repeated the same speech he had obviously done every day for far too many years.
Jared Vering, some famous action star Galadriel recognized from the movie feeds the Excalibur picked up from Orion updates, owned a particularly over the top house, silver spires that were interconnected by suspended rooms. It spoke of the ultra modern, and Galadriel half expected to see ninja climbing the walls, or gun fire on the roof. That was, typically, how Jared Vering movies began, continued and ended, untroubled by anything remotely resembling a plot.
Fortunately for the Kardiac Lieutenant, the bus tour swung towards the driveway of a beautiful little house, stylish and well appointed with white marble statuettes, surrounded by green ivy and fir trees. She descended from the bus, sipping her coffee as she waited for the bus to roar away, looking at the wrought iron gates and the small little intercom box.
She considered how she was going to do it, walking up to someone's house; especially someone with the notoriety of a famous actress was going to take some work. She steeled herself, marching up to the box and pressing the buzzer.
"And yes?" came the slow, drawn out response.
"Hello," Galadriel began faltering a little.
"Yes?" the way the woman on the other end of the line said the yes it sounded like the 'e' stretched out for an eternity.
"I am sorry," Galadriel said, stumbling over her manners and her insecurity over what to say, "I'm a friend of your son."
"I don't have a son," snapped the terse reply.
Galadriel rolled her eyes; of course someone famous would probably have staff to answer the door...buzzer...type thing. She sighed, "I meant Mrs. Kyr, I serve on a ship with her son Cornelius..."
"Are you pregnant?" the old woman's voice was replaced with a wary, yet confident sounding voice that had Kyr's soft vowel sounds.
"No!" Galadriel blinked. "No!" She shook her, head scandalized at the thought. Kyr was so far the opposite of her type it wasn't funny.
"Then what do you want?" the second voice demanded evenly. "I'm not a charity and I don't do blackmail."
"No, I need to talk to you," Galadriel insisted. "It's about your son... I need you to get a message to him."
"I don't have time for..." Mrs. Kyr began.
"Ma'am!" Galadriel snapped, finally loosing her temper. "I've been kidnapped, beaten, kept in a cage, and had to seduce an evil bastard just to get five minutes alone so that I could get here. Now you are going to listen to me..."
"I'm not interested in movie scripts." The voice spoke in person from the opposite side of the gates, and Galadriel turned to look at the beautiful young woman standing there wearing a conservative sundress and a pretty little hat. "What's your message?"
"Tell him that he has to tell Darien that Galadriel is alive, that Lex Talionis is here and that he is hunting something Peligian... the shrine of Z'rćl."
"Zar-ray-ell," Mrs. Kyr sounded out. "Sounds Drekknar."
"Please Mrs. Kyr," Galadriel insisted, "the Shrine of Z'rćl. Can you remember that?"
"I'm a bitch, not an invalid," Mrs. Kyr replied haughtily. "My mind is working fine, thank you Miss Galadriel..." a slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "What was the name of the bastard you seduced?"
"Rikard," Galadriel replied, "Cornelius will understand. And thank you, Mrs. Kyr."
"Hmm," Mrs. Kyr replied, staring down her nose at the young Kardiac Lieutenant. "I'll pass it along. Now you should go, before the paparazzi start to get suspicious and the tabloids run a story about my son and his new girlfriend."