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- Location
- Arlington, TX
You are a half mile from the boomtown of Far Shore City on the southern tip of Argentina. In a few hours the Sweet Pea Jo'snik will embark on a five day voyage across 75,000 miles of ocean to the Republic of Sologoth. What do you do?
[x] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen Burt (5) and everyone else (0)
[4] Burt (Default)
[5] Helen
[3] Eddie
[2] Maribel
[1] Roberta
[x] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen Burt (5) and everyone else (0)
[4] Burt (Default)
[5] Helen
[3] Eddie
[2] Maribel
[1] Roberta
Since I'm not going to start the next chapter until next week anyway (when my vacation starts), I'll leave the vote open a few more days. So far it looks like Plan @elarasilk is winning, and Helen is winning next POV at 19, with Eddie 4 behind her.
Don't worry. Even if Eddie's not POV, I won't let Storytime pass by off-screen.
Anyway, if you enjoy the quest, feel free to vote.
Don't worry. Even if Eddie's not POV, I won't let Storytime pass by off-screen.
Anyway, if you enjoy the quest, feel free to vote.
- Location
- Texas, USA
Awww it's Alan Turing!
Geez, Tama. Reminds me of White Diamond a little bit, haha.
I'm glad Roberta would still lift several fingers over this.
Well, thus closes the part of Uncle Grubb's Mysterious Mansion where Uncle Grubb's Mysterious Mansion still exists.
I wouldn't have thought about alternately-evolved diseases. Good thinking, glad we're getting vaccines!
The thing-with-bishonen that I've watched the most is, by far, Utena... so, to me this association sounds perfectly cromulent ^^
Lex Luthor is... predictable inasmuch as he'll act in his self-interest in an organized way, he's not like, the joker. He's a supervillain but I don't think we're in imminent danger until/unless we might seem dangerous to him for some reason. Good to be skeptical, though.
Ooh, interesting conversation about the nuclear de-escalation we've had that they haven't.
Bobbie boldly speaks truth to power! I love it.
eheh ^^;
I think a month is great. I'm glad for the few-day extension this time, I mis-anticipated how much free time I would have the past several days ^^
Thank you for putting so much into this, this is a fascinating world
[x] elarasilk
Geez, Tama. Reminds me of White Diamond a little bit, haha.
I'm glad Roberta would still lift several fingers over this.
Well, thus closes the part of Uncle Grubb's Mysterious Mansion where Uncle Grubb's Mysterious Mansion still exists.
Hahaha I love this, imagining the confusion that be going through Alan Turing's head
Awww, this must be flustering in a different way. Kinda, adrenaline-spike but maybe also a bit of warm fuzzy underneath that.
I wouldn't have thought about alternately-evolved diseases. Good thinking, glad we're getting vaccines!
Hahaha
The thing-with-bishonen that I've watched the most is, by far, Utena... so, to me this association sounds perfectly cromulent ^^
Haha, perfect
Lex Luthor is... predictable inasmuch as he'll act in his self-interest in an organized way, he's not like, the joker. He's a supervillain but I don't think we're in imminent danger until/unless we might seem dangerous to him for some reason. Good to be skeptical, though.
Ooh, interesting conversation about the nuclear de-escalation we've had that they haven't.
Bobbie boldly speaks truth to power! I love it.
eheh ^^;
I think a month is great. I'm glad for the few-day extension this time, I mis-anticipated how much free time I would have the past several days ^^
Thank you for putting so much into this, this is a fascinating world
[x] elarasilk
Yeah, he was fun to write. Did some research too, reading through his papers and correspondence and to properly 'season' his vernacular.
*Looks up White Diamond* Yeah, I can see that. For writing Tama, the trick was striking the right balance between affable, menacing and buffoonish.
The handwaving of foreign diseases in isekai fiction has always been a minor pet peeve of mine. On the other hand, no one wants to read a novel where Lord Kalvan dies of a nasty strain of dysentery two weeks after appearing in medieval Pennsylvania.
Glad you mentioned that, actually. It probably won't be a major element in the story, but I sprinkled some hints in the chapter: the rumors that Tama belonged to a secret dueling society (called the Abraxas Cult, no less), that he was in the Student Council (as is his daughter), and during the dinner K'Leto is mentioned as wearing a rose signet ring. There's also one other hint too, but I won't reveal it.
So, presumably D'shalsky Academy is this world's Ohtori, and Akio and Anthy have been going through Rose Bride cycles for who knows how long. Forty years ago Tama could easily have been a Touga-like figure in the Student Council (though he would have looked more like Ruka). Perhaps now K'Leto is something similar.
And I vastly underestimated how long it would take to write this beast of a chapter. With the massive gap between 17 and 18, I'm glad I got the votes I did. I promise the next chapter won't take nearly so long, and while I know I always promise something to that effect, I'm pretty sure I mean it this time. In other words, this chapter had a lot of heavy lifting to do, but the next one won't have nearly as much stuff to cover.
Thank you for putting so much into this, this is a fascinating world
Thanks! I really love the worldbuilding part. It's essentially a kitchen-sink setting of all my favorite stuff.
I doubt I'll get any more votes (@bamster90 appears MIA for the last couple weeks), but I'll leave it open at least until tomorrow night. Mainly because I'm too tired to do the vote count stuff.
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Sorry was busy with work and Holidays. I'll go with
[x] Elarasilk
But with this POV Vote
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[5] Burt (Default)
[3] Helen
[4] Eddie
[1] Maribel
[2] Roberta
[x] Elarasilk
But with this POV Vote
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[5] Burt (Default)
[3] Helen
[4] Eddie
[1] Maribel
[2] Roberta
Okay, here we go.
Vote Tally
Winning Vote
You are a half mile from the boomtown of Far Shore City on the southern tip of Argentina. In a few hours the Sweet Pea Jo'snik will embark on a five day voyage across 75,000 miles of ocean to the Republic of Sologoth. What do you do?
[X] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
If you choose to stay with Tama (at least for now), is there anything in particular you want to do or discuss? (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below).
[X] There are currents in Tama's 'court', conflicting personalities and priorities - we should get to grips with these. Our freedom of action, short of trying to escape or kamikaze Tama, will depend on navigating these. It seems you can get away with quite a bit of interpersonal friction with him if you're also useful to him (e.g. his ex).
Obviously we also want to be around to bond with Esha, and able to argue in favour of her interests.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote isHelen Burt (5) and everyone else (0)
[X] Helen
Plan @elarasilk
Assigning Party Member Points
You have a five day voyage ahead of you. How do you want to use that time?
This is provisional and I'm open to adjusting it - Eddie might be slightly wasted but Story Time is fascinating, Twin Telepathy sounds great, Maribel will love magic, and hopefully Helen and Roberta training together will help to keep Roberta happy.
[x] Plan Provisional
All
Poke your Broca - free Swannish.
Burt
Skills: First Aid, Fencing
Friendships: K'Jala Galanaba Mental Strength, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation, Tama d'Vaugnas History (Occult)
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Helen
Skills: Pistols (2SP)
Friendships: K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Eddie
Skills: Runology (Jahannan), Computer Programming
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas Ritual Magic, Widari Runology (Dwarven), Widari Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Perks: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Maribel
Skills: Runology (Jahannan) and Dreams
Friendships: Mage Tethys Aeromancy *2, Mage Tethys Mental Strength
Roberta
Skills: Pistols (2 SP)
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi 2 * Mechanic (Robotics) 1* Computer Operation
Perks: Phreaking the Grid
Okay, I'll get started on Part III, Chapter One!
Vote Tally
You are a half mile from the boomtown of Far Shore City on the southern tip of Argentina. In a few hours the Sweet Pea Jo'snik will embark on a five day voyage across 75,000 miles of ocean to the Republic of Sologoth. What do you do?
[ ] Follow Roberta's plan: Bum rush the guards at the armory, retrieve your weapons, then use the mininuke shells to hold the ship hostage. Order Tama to fly the ship to Antarctica (currently only a few hundred miles away) to the ancient ruins of the Elder City. There, you hopefully will meet Doc Savage (and hopefully he'll help you). (Note: If you pick this, you will not be able to assign Skill and Friendship points).
[7] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
[ ] You want to escape, but Roberta's plan is too bullheaded and reckless. Instead, you should sneak out of the ship and make a stealthy escape to Far Shore City, where you can then surrender yourself to the Swan Navy. (Note: If you pick this, you will not be able to assign Skill and Friendship points).
[ ] Write in.
If you choose with Roberta's plan, how do you wish to go about this? Do you have a destination other than the Elder City in mind? Do you have any addendums or alterations to the plan?
[X] There are currents in Tama's 'court', conflicting personalities and priorities - we should get to grips with these. Our freedom of action, short of trying to escape or kamikaze Tama, will depend on navigating these. It seems you can get away with quite a bit of interpersonal friction with him if you're also useful to him (e.g. his ex).
Obviously we also want to be around to bond with Esha, and able to argue in favour of her interests.
If you choose to stay with Tama (at least for now), is there anything in particular you want to do or discuss? (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below).
[ ] Write in.
If you choose to sneak out and try to make it to Far Shore City, how do you wish to go about this? Do you want to do something other than surrender to the Swan Navy? Do you have any addendums or alterations to the plan?
[ ] Write in.
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[X] Honour the JMH, for he writes novellae as quest updates
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote isHelen Burt (5) and everyone else (0)
[21] Burt (Default)
[27] Helen
[20] Eddie
[16] Maribel
[11] Roberta
Plan @elarasilk : 4
Plan @Nevill : 1
Plan @Gingganz : 1
[ ] Follow Roberta's plan: Bum rush the guards at the armory, retrieve your weapons, then use the mininuke shells to hold the ship hostage. Order Tama to fly the ship to Antarctica (currently only a few hundred miles away) to the ancient ruins of the Elder City. There, you hopefully will meet Doc Savage (and hopefully he'll help you). (Note: If you pick this, you will not be able to assign Skill and Friendship points).
[7] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
[ ] You want to escape, but Roberta's plan is too bullheaded and reckless. Instead, you should sneak out of the ship and make a stealthy escape to Far Shore City, where you can then surrender yourself to the Swan Navy. (Note: If you pick this, you will not be able to assign Skill and Friendship points).
[ ] Write in.
If you choose with Roberta's plan, how do you wish to go about this? Do you have a destination other than the Elder City in mind? Do you have any addendums or alterations to the plan?
[X] There are currents in Tama's 'court', conflicting personalities and priorities - we should get to grips with these. Our freedom of action, short of trying to escape or kamikaze Tama, will depend on navigating these. It seems you can get away with quite a bit of interpersonal friction with him if you're also useful to him (e.g. his ex).
Obviously we also want to be around to bond with Esha, and able to argue in favour of her interests.
If you choose to stay with Tama (at least for now), is there anything in particular you want to do or discuss? (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below).
[ ] Write in.
If you choose to sneak out and try to make it to Far Shore City, how do you wish to go about this? Do you want to do something other than surrender to the Swan Navy? Do you have any addendums or alterations to the plan?
[ ] Write in.
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[X] Honour the JMH, for he writes novellae as quest updates
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is
[21] Burt (Default)
[27] Helen
[20] Eddie
[16] Maribel
[11] Roberta
Plan @elarasilk : 4
Assigning Party Member Points
You have a five day voyage ahead of you. How do you want to use that time?
This is provisional and I'm open to adjusting it - Eddie might be slightly wasted but Story Time is fascinating, Twin Telepathy sounds great, Maribel will love magic, and hopefully Helen and Roberta training together will help to keep Roberta happy.
[x] Plan Provisional
All
Poke your Broca - free Swannish.
Burt
Skills: First Aid, Fencing
Friendships: K'Jala Galanaba Mental Strength, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation, Tama d'Vaugnas History (Occult)
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Helen
Skills: Pistols (2SP)
Friendships: K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Eddie
Skills: Runology (Jahannan), Computer Programming
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas Ritual Magic, Widari Runology (Dwarven), Widari Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Perks: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Maribel
Skills: Runology (Jahannan) and Dreams
Friendships: Mage Tethys Aeromancy *2, Mage Tethys Mental Strength
Roberta
Skills: Pistols (2 SP)
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi 2 * Mechanic (Robotics) 1* Computer Operation
Perks: Phreaking the Grid
You have a five day voyage ahead of you. How do you want to use that time?
This is provisional and I'm open to adjusting it - Eddie might be slightly wasted but Story Time is fascinating, Twin Telepathy sounds great, Maribel will love magic, and hopefully Helen and Roberta training together will help to keep Roberta happy.
[x] Plan Provisional
All
Poke your Broca - free Swannish.
Burt
Skills: First Aid, Fencing
Friendships: K'Jala Galanaba Mental Strength, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation, Tama d'Vaugnas History (Occult)
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Helen
Skills: Pistols (2SP)
Friendships: K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Eddie
Skills: Runology (Jahannan), Computer Programming
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas Ritual Magic, Widari Runology (Dwarven), Widari Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Perks: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Maribel
Skills: Runology (Jahannan) and Dreams
Friendships: Mage Tethys Aeromancy *2, Mage Tethys Mental Strength
Roberta
Skills: Pistols (2 SP)
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi 2 * Mechanic (Robotics) 1* Computer Operation
Perks: Phreaking the Grid
Plan @Nevill : 1
[x] Roberta
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Ayama Kokotomi x2, Skill: Mechanic (Robotics) x2, Perk: Phreaking the Grid
--[x] K'Leto, Skill: Fencing, Perk(s): Slipping the Leash; Poke Your Broca
[x] Helen
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] K'Leto, Skill: Martial Arts, Perk(s): Slipping the Leash
--[x] K'Jala Galanaba x2, Skill: Meditation x2, Perk(s): Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy; Poke Your Broca
[x] Burt
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Dr. Bejen Herrica x2, Skill: Ritual Magic (Medicine) x1, Esoteric Medicine (Alchemy) x1, Perk(s): Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy; Poke Your Broca
--[x] Dr. Widari zun Eirohm, Skill: Alchemy
[x] Eddie
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Tama D'vaugnas x2, Skill: Runology (Jahannan School) x2, Perk: Forbidden Knowledge; Poke Your Broca
--[x] Dr. Alan Turing, Skill: Computer Operation
[x] Maribel
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Mage Tethys, Skill: Aeromancy
--[x] Dr. Bata Kokotomi x2, Skill: Dreams x1, Meditation x1, Perk: Mind to Mind; Poke Your Broca
[x] Skills
-[x] Burt: Esoteric Medicine (Alchemy) x1, Alchemy x1
-[x] Helen: Martial Arts x2
-[x] Eddie: Runology (Jahannan School) x2
-[x] Maribel: Aeromancy x2
-[x] Roberta: Mechanic (Robotics) x1, Pistols x1 (Locked)
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Ayama Kokotomi x2, Skill: Mechanic (Robotics) x2, Perk: Phreaking the Grid
--[x] K'Leto, Skill: Fencing, Perk(s): Slipping the Leash; Poke Your Broca
[x] Helen
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] K'Leto, Skill: Martial Arts, Perk(s): Slipping the Leash
--[x] K'Jala Galanaba x2, Skill: Meditation x2, Perk(s): Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy; Poke Your Broca
[x] Burt
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Dr. Bejen Herrica x2, Skill: Ritual Magic (Medicine) x1, Esoteric Medicine (Alchemy) x1, Perk(s): Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy; Poke Your Broca
--[x] Dr. Widari zun Eirohm, Skill: Alchemy
[x] Eddie
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Tama D'vaugnas x2, Skill: Runology (Jahannan School) x2, Perk: Forbidden Knowledge; Poke Your Broca
--[x] Dr. Alan Turing, Skill: Computer Operation
[x] Maribel
-[x] Friendships:
--[x] Mage Tethys, Skill: Aeromancy
--[x] Dr. Bata Kokotomi x2, Skill: Dreams x1, Meditation x1, Perk: Mind to Mind; Poke Your Broca
[x] Skills
-[x] Burt: Esoteric Medicine (Alchemy) x1, Alchemy x1
-[x] Helen: Martial Arts x2
-[x] Eddie: Runology (Jahannan School) x2
-[x] Maribel: Aeromancy x2
-[x] Roberta: Mechanic (Robotics) x1, Pistols x1 (Locked)
Plan @Gingganz : 1
Everyone
- Perk: Poke Your Broca
Burt
- Friendships
-- Dr. Bejen Herrica: Ritual Magic (Medicine), Ritual Magic (Dispel Magic)
--- Perk: Mind to Mind (& Twin Telepathy)
-- Dr. Alan Turing: Cryptography
- Skills: Mental Strength, Computer Operation
Helen
- Friendships
-- K'Leto Lax D'vaugnas: Fencing x2
--- Perk: Mind to Mind (& Twin Telepathy)
-- Ayama Kokotomi: Mental Strength
- Skills: Running, First Aid
Eddie
- Friendships
-- Dr. Widari zun Eirohm: Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation), Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
--- Perk: Story Time With Uncle Widari
-- Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas: History (Occult)
- Skills: Mental Strength, Runology (Jahannan School)
Maribel
- Friendships
-- Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Dreams, Meditation
--- Perk: Mind to Mind
-- Mage Alais Tethys: Aeromancy
- Skills: Aeromancy, Runology (Jahannan)
Roberta
- Friendships
-- Ayama Kokotomi: Mechanic (Robotics), Computer Operation
--- Perk: Phreaking the Grid
-- Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Mental Strength
- Skills: Pistols, Mechanic (Robotics)
- Perk: Poke Your Broca
Burt
- Friendships
-- Dr. Bejen Herrica: Ritual Magic (Medicine), Ritual Magic (Dispel Magic)
--- Perk: Mind to Mind (& Twin Telepathy)
-- Dr. Alan Turing: Cryptography
- Skills: Mental Strength, Computer Operation
Helen
- Friendships
-- K'Leto Lax D'vaugnas: Fencing x2
--- Perk: Mind to Mind (& Twin Telepathy)
-- Ayama Kokotomi: Mental Strength
- Skills: Running, First Aid
Eddie
- Friendships
-- Dr. Widari zun Eirohm: Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation), Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
--- Perk: Story Time With Uncle Widari
-- Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas: History (Occult)
- Skills: Mental Strength, Runology (Jahannan School)
Maribel
- Friendships
-- Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Dreams, Meditation
--- Perk: Mind to Mind
-- Mage Alais Tethys: Aeromancy
- Skills: Aeromancy, Runology (Jahannan)
Roberta
- Friendships
-- Ayama Kokotomi: Mechanic (Robotics), Computer Operation
--- Perk: Phreaking the Grid
-- Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Mental Strength
- Skills: Pistols, Mechanic (Robotics)
Winning Vote
You are a half mile from the boomtown of Far Shore City on the southern tip of Argentina. In a few hours the Sweet Pea Jo'snik will embark on a five day voyage across 75,000 miles of ocean to the Republic of Sologoth. What do you do?
[X] No, Roberta's plan is crazy. Try to convince her you should all stay with Tama, at least for now. In the meantime, you should gain allies and learn skills (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below). You may be able to contact Pat Savage later, if you choose.
If you choose to stay with Tama (at least for now), is there anything in particular you want to do or discuss? (Assign Skill and Friendship points in the section below).
[X] There are currents in Tama's 'court', conflicting personalities and priorities - we should get to grips with these. Our freedom of action, short of trying to escape or kamikaze Tama, will depend on navigating these. It seems you can get away with quite a bit of interpersonal friction with him if you're also useful to him (e.g. his ex).
Obviously we also want to be around to bond with Esha, and able to argue in favour of her interests.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is
[X] Helen
Plan @elarasilk
Assigning Party Member Points
You have a five day voyage ahead of you. How do you want to use that time?
This is provisional and I'm open to adjusting it - Eddie might be slightly wasted but Story Time is fascinating, Twin Telepathy sounds great, Maribel will love magic, and hopefully Helen and Roberta training together will help to keep Roberta happy.
[x] Plan Provisional
All
Poke your Broca - free Swannish.
Burt
Skills: First Aid, Fencing
Friendships: K'Jala Galanaba Mental Strength, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation, Tama d'Vaugnas History (Occult)
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Helen
Skills: Pistols (2SP)
Friendships: K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Leto D'vaugnas Fencing, K'Jala Galanaba Meditation
Perks: Mind to Mind, Twin Telepathy
Eddie
Skills: Runology (Jahannan), Computer Programming
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas Ritual Magic, Widari Runology (Dwarven), Widari Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Perks: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Maribel
Skills: Runology (Jahannan) and Dreams
Friendships: Mage Tethys Aeromancy *2, Mage Tethys Mental Strength
Roberta
Skills: Pistols (2 SP)
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi 2 * Mechanic (Robotics) 1* Computer Operation
Perks: Phreaking the Grid
Okay, I'll get started on Part III, Chapter One!
Part III, Chapter One
Sorry for the delay. Once again I completely underestimated the word count.
Part III, Chapter One
November 22, 1944, 2:00 PM
Maybe this was a mistake.
"No!" K'Leto snaps. "Stupid! Look at your legs! You have shit balance. Your feet should be like this! Like this! And don't squeeze! It's not a cleaver! Now, lunge! Lunge!"
You grit your teeth, your breath hot behind the wire-mesh face-guard, and fidget with the grip in your right hand, your left raised behind you, "like a cat's tail." The rapier isn't heavy, but weighty enough that your arm burns after two hours of practice. Sweat soaks the armpits of your padding.
Through the thin gray filter of your mask, K'Leto waits two yards away in en garde stance, the sword motionless in her left hand. The petite, four-foot-something elf is all in black in her form-fitting quilt armor, her face a blank obsidian bowl that no doubt hides that smug smirk of hers, with her spidery eyes drilling into you, judging you. This is pointless, embarrassing. And your audience makes it worse.
To the side watch Ayama, Zizzy and Teaky Reek (Zizzy's holographic skeleton buddy). The black computer nerd girl has on her foam sparring gear, though she's taken off her helmet, which has scrunched in her Afro. The photomancer (shorter than K'Leto and butch as hell with her army crew cut), wears a wife-beater/bicycle short combo that shows off the silvery tats on her skinny arms and legs. Teaky, a transparent, CGI cartoon tulpa about your height, is dressed as a pirate, complete with tricorner hat and tattered Captain Hook coat.
K'Leto cocks her head. "Why do you hesitate? Advance. Advance!"
Bitch. You bend your knees, step forward once, twice, and stab--and swerve. What do they call it? A feint? You strike at her heart. She swats your blade aside. Steels scrapes steel as you pull back for a parry.
These aren't the flimsy, old car antennae foils you've seen on Youtube. They're wider, sturdier, and hurt too. She pokes you in the neck, and you gag as the not-dull-enough tip punches against the padded cloth guard.
You stumble back, clutching your throat, letting out a choked, "Fuck!" Did she tear something? Will it leave a bruise?
She snorts, swirling her blade as if whisking eggs. "I severed your right jugular. Black out in half a minute, dead in three. Stop moving so much. Your shoulders, your waist, they broadcast your intent." She sighs. "Now, again. Advance. Strike me down."
"Come on, 'Leto," Ayama says. "Go easy on her." She flips her wooden dagger, catching it in her slender hand.
"This is how father trained me," K'Leto says. "Coddling teaches nothing."
"At least let her catch her wind," Ayama says.
"No, I'm good," you say. You fall into your en garde, but K'Leto doesn't bother. She faces you with weapon down, her stance relaxed, bored--everything short of crossing her arms and tapping her feet.
Spoiled brat. But you're a head taller and twice her weight. Could you bum rush her? She did say, "Strike me down."
With a shout, you charge, swishing your rapier in crazy figure eights. You cut at her hood, but she pivots, advances. Your blade slashes air as she snatches your right elbow and pulls you close. You trip.
You don't face-plant onto the rubber mat--your arms absorb most of the impact--but it still knocks the breath out of you. Zizzy snickers and says something Swannish, the speech mumbling and musical, like Vietnamese.
"Xophie's tits!" Ayama says. "Did you think that would work?"
You roll and sit up. The dulled point of K'Leto's sword greets your face-guard; you freeze as if threatened by a snake. The billionaire's daughter laughs haughtily, her black mask rearing back, her free hand resting on her hip in a cocky, heroic pose of made of shadow. "I praise your spirit, Earthling, foolish though it may be! For how can you compete with the superior agility of the Toloran race, much less I, the greatest fencer in the known worlds?"
"Greatest?" Ayama says. "What about Dame Csenia?"
"Csenia?" you say. "Isn't she . . . ?"
K'Leto swats dismissively. "The Zurainian is a formidable warrior, I grant you, but she fights with xiphe--little more than daggers. Not a fencer."
"Ah, a technicality," Ayama says. She wags her wood knife. "But I would say fighting with a short blade requires more skill, would you not?"
"I would not," K'Leto says. "And I am skilled with both."
"Csenia can block bullets," Zizzy says in a thick, watery accent. She's cross-legged on the floor (or 'deck' as Pookie says they're call on ships) and chugs a bottle of blue wizard juice. Teaky illustrates by parrying imaginary gunshots with its cutlass, each holographic impact making a tinny ting! sound.
"Can you block bullets, 'Leto?" Ayama asks.
K'Leto's shoulders tense. "I could if I wanted."
Teaky spawns a flintlock pistol and spins the spectral firearm on a bony, ghostly finger. It thumbs back the hammer and leers at K'Leto with a skull smile. "Let's test!" Zizzy says.
"It's not real," K'Leto says. "It wouldn't count."
"Would count!" Zizzy says.
"Csenia sparred with you, didn't she?" Ayama asks.
K'Leto clenches her sword. "No, she didn't."
"That's not what Colonel Grung says," Ayama says. "He says you lasted three seconds. Said she knocked you on your ass."
"That's a lie!"
Ayama clutches her own face in pretend horror. "'Oh! Vanquished by a Zurain barbarian! I have shamed the Vaugnas name!'"
K'Leto rips off her mask and hood and flings them down. "She's a paladin!" she says, her olive cheeks burning. "Her god Nodens, 'guides her blades.' She can't lose! She was cheating!"
"He said you said that too," Ayama says.
K'Leto whips her rapier at Ayama, blade outstretched in challenge. "Enough of your insults, Vendi! Duel me if you dare!"
Ayama's white grin grows. She mimes jabs with her knife, then explodes in laughter. "You're a national champion! You could best me blindfolded! And I'm not the one beating up novices and declaring myself the greatest blademaster in the universe!"
"Shut up!" K'Leto cries.
Zizzy sniggers, rocking with hands on knees. "Oh-oh! 'Leto angry!" she says. Teaky doubles over, cackling.
K'Leto stomps her feet. "Shut up! Shut up! I order you to shut up!"
At this, the three girls drop the whole, "speak English for Goosie's sake," and jabber in machine gun Swannish so fast you couldn't follow even if you spoke the language. You prop yourself on the mat. Along the gym's back wall (or bulkhead or whatever) hang the two black and white posters of a teenage Tama and K'Leto.
The photos have to have been taken decades apart, but you wouldn't guess by looking. Father and daughter each hold rapiers and daggers, each are dressed in 1800's-style military uniforms, and each are as alike to each other as you are to Pookie, both having the same black bug eyes, raven hair, sharp cheekbones and arrogant smirks.
What was that saying about apples falling from trees?
Well, you're not backing out now. After all, you have an ulterior motive.
Fortunately, last night, the four of you talked Bobbi out of Operation: Let's Bum Rush the Guards and Get Shot with Uzis. She can get pretty hotheaded, and she doesn't like cages, gilded or not. You don't either--and Tama's Lovecraft shit gives you the heebie-jeebies. But at least he set you up with that swanky-retro suite, and if you're all on a leash, it's long enough that you don't feel its tug. Plus he's paying you thousands of 'crowns' a week to sit around and do nothing, which is one of your favorite pastimes.
But nothing can also be boring (and there's no wifi, and the TV shows are freaky) so while you're stuck here, why not make new friends, learn new skills? This morning, Pookie said he was going to see Tama, and Eddie that three-eyed dwarf guy. Maribel of course wanted to train with that aeromancer woman, and Bobbi . . . as far as you know she's still working out her frustrations at the pistol range.
She invited you along but didn't really mean it. All night she was in one of her bitch moods. Killed your buzz. The two of you kind of got in an argument after that. Blah-blah-blah, we're prisoners! Blah-blah-blah how can you be okay with this?
Uhg. She needed alone time. You too, maybe. You had some freaky dreams, though they've since slipped down the memory hole.
So you put on your jeans, tie-dye and snapback and went exploring. Nowhere in particular, you ambled down the Sweet Pea's plush white hallways (or 'passageways'), drinking a bottle of fizzy sorta-raspberry juice and wondering what you were going to do when the weed runs out.
The want for a smoothie lured you to the gym; the music reeled you in. K'Leto was alone, racing down a treadmill while the breakneck riffs of elf-punk blared from a bulky boombox. She spared you a sideways squint, but otherwise jogged on as if you weren't there. You relaxed against the doorway and finished off your juice.
She was cute, in a tiny, gothy, Hot Topicy way, with her blue-highlight pixie fauxhawk, her big dark eyes, her rebellious sneer and her nearly catlike ears, (swept back now as if for speed). Her black skull tank top and ripped sweatpants flaunted tight athletic curves on a lanky build more like her dad than mom.
But her cuteness had a weirdness to it, a wrongness. It wasn't just her; it was all the elves. And it was weirder than even the dwarf. Because while the dwarf looked like a complete space alien, the elves were almost human. And though you couldn't explain why, 'almost' was worse than 'not at all.'
It was the proportions. The limbs were a little too spindly, the torsos a little too short, their movements and strides a little too graceful. And then there was the eyes. Eddie said they're 'down in the valley,' whatever that means. Maribel said it better: real life anime people.
But K'Leto seemed pretty cool.
It was then you went ahead with your plan. From the dinner party last night (nasty-ass food!), you found out K'Leto knew Pat Savage and even had an adventure with her. And Pat is your ticket out of here, right? Okay, so Pat might also kidnap you so she can fly you all into the Wormhole of Doom, but you can burn that bridge when you come to it. For now: buddy-up with K'Leto.
K'Leto was nice enough, at first. She asked if you wanted to spar with her. Having grown up with Johnny Depp's pirate movies and even that classic 80's one, The Princess Bride, you always had a thing for swashbuckling stuff.
She set you up with the armor and rapier (but not the parrying dagger--this was your first day) and taught you the beginnings of legwork and stances. But then she bragged she had been training daily since she was old enough to hold a sword. And she's top at her academy. Won four tournaments, one national. She's even better than her father! Ha ha! The old fool! His hubris shall be his undoing!
And she's the also the greatest pilot in the world, don't you know? First place this year's Moboros. She's been on magazine covers. And in TV interviews. And commercials. Many people hate her, but they're only jealous! And she's not just the best at swords and planes! Oh no, nobody understands the true extent of her genius! But they will! They'll write books of her exploits for millennia to come! Just you wait!
Yes, you, Helen, are indeed fortunate to have such a shining example of genetic superiority as a tutor. No! No! Ridiculous! Stupid! You're doing it all wrong! Why are you Earthlings so clumsy?
It was a relief when Ayama showed up with Zizzy for her "Akumite-Tahtib" practice, if only to give K'Leto someone else to bitch at. You shouldn't have been surprised. Yesterday, you only were around her when she was trash-talking her dad (which you wholeheartedly approve of), but now? Alan Turing mentioned she didn't get along with anyone; now you see why.
Should you have friended Ayama instead? But no. Stick with K'Leto. Pump her for info on Pat.
Even though you have no idea what anyone's saying, you do your best to calm the squabbling. It works better than expected, and while K'Leto remains somewhat sullen, a smoothie-break at the gym kiosk smooths things over. No one's on duty, so Teaky mixes the drinks.
Then Ayama suggests: Why not spar with Teaky? It's what she was doing. As if in invitation, a rapier appears in the skeleton pirate's hand.
It's not bad, but fighting Teaky has a very video game feel. Along with his Playstation 2 graphics, he moves jerky and robotic, like a clockwork marionette, and his parries are like hitting a slippery force field. But unlike with K'Leto, you actually score attacks, your blade sinking through his bones as if they're made of jello.
K'Leto sulks on the sidelines. "This exercise isn't . . . entirely useless," she says, "but it doesn't teach fencing. Zizzy doesn't know the art and neither does her phantom."
Whatever. At least Teaky doesn't treat you like an idiot. You go a few rounds, but Zizzy (having a job and all) has to help Chief Finny do coolant system checkups (whatever that is). And Ayama (being an intern and all) has to tinker with her blinky-light computers.
They leave, and the two of you unstrap out of your sparring armor. The gym's AC cools your sweaty skin. K'Leto flicks up her damp hair, revealing a little widow's peak. She grabs a water bottle and tosses another your way. You guzzle it greedily--it's been a hard workout.
She sips hers and says, "Come, I would have you with me."
Okay. You follow her down the hallway, a step behind her swagger. You both go down an elevator. You down the last of your water. The quiet grows too much.
"So . . . Csenia," you say. K'Leto glares at the name; you quickly go on, "and Grung. They're Pat Savage's gang, right?"
K'Leto relaxes. The elevator door opens. "Yes, Pat is a friend of mine," she says as she leads you along another hallway. "And a real hero of the proletariat. Not an imperialist oppressor like her cousin--or my father. You'd like her. She has that restless, reckless, 'cowboy' aspect you Americans so admire. I saw it in your Bobbi yesterday, when she tried to pull a gun on my father. Stupid! But also bold and spirited and--how you say?--'daring-do'?
"I have it too--that 'daring-do-ness--which is why Pat brought me with her to fight the Catacomb King. I don't know why my father threw such a fit. He's been in a hundred adventures, and he begrudges me this one? There wasn't even that much danger! The Professor was there, and he can take our whole sorcerer squad single-handed!"
"Professor Poseidon?" you say. "What's he like?"
She waggles her head. "Friendly enough. For a Sea Devil. Odd conversationalist, but then he only communicates through gnosis, since his monster mouth can't form human speech. He used to be human though, a thousand years ago. That's what happens when you have fish in your bloodline. Your eyes bulge out, your mouths gets wide. You turn completely by the time you're fifty, but that's not too wretched a fate. You live forever. A fair trade."
Yeah, you don't know about that. "We, uh, met some Sea Devils," you say. "Four of them. They kicked in our door and ran in with shotguns."
She chuckles. "I heard that. I assume it didn't end well for them, judging by the blood-splatters on the walls. And the severed head."
You've never been as scared as you were that night, but you force a grin. "I shot a couple during the gunfight." You mime shooting a rifle, wracking the lever and going pew-pew! (You pass a cute elf in a green minidress uniform; she gives you a funny look). You go on, "Pookie did too. But yeah, Maribel saved the day. Made them explode when she touched two heartstones. That's how we got here--and that's why she has the bandages. The head was my work. Sawed it off as a souvenir." Did the wizards take it when they looted the house? Doesn't matter. It smelled anyway.
"Sounds like quite a battle," K'Leto says with a tilt of her thin lips. "It's unfortunate you've fallen in with my father and not Pat, and not only for your sake. She would appreciate a band of adventurers such as yourselves--especially your brother. Like my father, she too has been scouring Earth for a world-jumper."
"To go after her sister."
"Yes. Into the Black Mesa Vortex."
You don't like where this is going. "Okay, how is this any better than what your dad plans to do? It still means flying into another dimension or whatever, and where Pat wants to go has like an evil skeletor wizard guy waiting on the other side."
K'Leto huffs. "There's more at stake than her sister. And I agree with my father on this: Pamela is certainly dead. But of greater importance, Ironbone is not. The Professor and Csenia merely banished him to another realm, or as you say, 'dimension,' and it's only a matter of time before he finds his way back. Though admittedly that may take centuries. Or it could be tomorrow."
"They couldn't kill him before," you say. "What'll be difference this time?"
She kind of shrugs. "The Professor has a secret weapon. If he thinks it'll work, I believe him. My point is Pat's quest has a nobler aim than my father's ridiculous 'computer utopia!' Tell me, what lies did he spin you after supper?"
You stop and check the hallway's empty. Why are you worried? It's not like Tama swore you all to secrecy. "It was a weird night," you say.
You tell K'Leto about her dad testing you all with the heartstones and about how he took you up to his posh bachelor pad. You don't have much to say about him monologuing about all the stupid books he read, but instead go over the 'Ritual.' Finally, you get to the part when he opens the safe, takes out the small black sack and shows you the magic rock.
"It's like I blacked out," you say, "but that's not it. I didn't see the rock, but I saw something. I was somewhere. But I can't remember what. And when I woke up I felt really sad. Like lonely, empty."
She flaps a hand. "The 'magic rock' probably has a gnostic imprint. I wouldn't read too much into it." She sighs. "My father so loves his baubles, just as he loves dusty old books written by madmen."
"It still freaked me out," you say. "And what about the 'Ritual'? He wants Eddie to do it. I don't think I like that."
She sneers. "I've heard my father speak of it. Something to do with 'marking the heavens.' Occult nonsense, I'm certain. But you say you lit a heartstone? Rare for an Earthling, but unsurprising I suppose, given your pedigree." She leads you down the hallway to a closed sliding door. "I can train you in your gifts. The gnosis. The 'nesis. They require a strong will to unlock, but with my guidance, it can be done."
Tama did mention that, didn't he? "You mean like telepathy and psychokinesis?" you say. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks." You've always wanted psychic powers. You don't even mind if it's K'Leto who teaches you.
"We can get started now," she says. She unlocks the door, and it swishes open. The scent of almost-tobacco tickles your nose. She motions you inside. Your eyes adjust to the dim light.
"Nice," you say, stepping over wadded up clothes (just like back home!). Honestly, her room is about what you expected. Size-wise, it's as large as your suite, but this is her space. She's made it her own.
A Swan-and-Crown flag hangs over a round window, filtering the morning sun blue and gold. Papering over the walls are posters of retro fighter jets and hoverbikes, along with a dozen of what you guess to be gothic-punk boy bands (half the elves are shirtless, all wear too much eyeliner). Not fitting this theme are squiggly runes on banners, and a few black and whites of grumpy history-book men in old-timey suits (mostly elves, though two are humans who seem familiar: one a guy with a Santa beard and dark mustache, the other a Patrick Stewart-looking guy with a goatee).
A big screen TV that has to weigh a hundred pounds hogs a corner beside a massive stereo piled with those VHS-style audio cassettes. Edgy pencil sketches clutter a slanted art table. Between two floor speakers, a wire stand holds an electric . . . guitar? Banjo? Lute?
On her nightstand, below a lamp and next to a clock you can't read, lies a dagger and holstered pistol. A sheathed rapier leans against her bedpost. The weapons have mahogany grips carved lumpy for six-fingered hands.
Stacks of magazines cover her dresser. Most are in Swannish, but you spot a Motorcyclist, and the issue of Autocar Pookie bought from Huckley. Along the mirror she's taped-up color photos: her in front of her fancy jet; her on a Star Wars hoverbike; her dressed like an 1800's officer, a sword in hand, a medal around her neck.
One picture has her riding ponies (no, unicorns) with a pair of mischievous-looking twin girls. Identical except for their mirrored sidetails, they're about twelve and clearly Vaugnas-spawn with all the spidery traits. Framed between them, K'Leto puts on a I'm-too-cool-to-be-here sneer that doesn't fool you.
Another photo has a fifteenish K'Leto with a guy who looks like a lankier, teenage version of Tama. Sullen and crazy-eyed, he's dressed in a paint-splattered smock, a brush death-gripped in his six-fingered hand. He and her stand on either side of an easel holding a gloomy oil canvas of a floating battleship made of blood and bones, dead babies dripping from its skull-like mouth onto a bombed-out city below.
The schlik! of a lighter sounds behind you. K'Leto sucks on a skinny cigarette and offers you one from a metal case.
"I'm good," you say. Even if you did smoke, Swan cigs smell funky. You hesitate, but you might as well ask. "Hey, do you know where I can get weed around here?"
She puffs her smoke, gripping it between thumb and second index finger. "Weed."
"Cannabis? Marijuana? Reefer?"
She rolls her eyes. "I don't indulge in bourgeois poisons," she says. "Go ask my father's whore."
Well, fuck. Valree seems like an even bigger bitch than K'Leto. Cute girl, though. You fish out your glass pipe and a baggie of Stinky Pete's finest. Packing the bowl with moist chunks, you ask, "Mind if I . . . . ?"
"Go ahead," she says with a huff. "It might help for your first time." She's digging through the bottom of a closet crammed with goth clothes and cardboard boxes.
"Um, thanks," you say. First time? You plop in a small armless, leather chair that, judging by the gears, springs and doodads on its sides, was ripped from an airplane cockpit. Nestling into its springy cushions, you spark and draw. The herb smolders as you fill your lungs. You hold, hold, hold . . .
"It's in here," she insists from the closet door. "Haven't used it since we launched the 'Pea."
. . . release. A smoky geyser escapes your lips. A kitten purrs in your chest. Blood jangles through your limbs. You take another hit, another. The walls bend like rubber as smug Captain Picard stares into your soul.
Through the sheer flag curtain, through the round window, the far-below ocean stretches on and on towards a hazy horizon, like a deep blue parking lot of forever.
How did this happen? Less than a week ago it was 2015. You were in Southside Fort Worth, downing beers on the front porch of Bobbi's duplex, trying to talk her into skipping work so she can go with you all for the weekend to your dead great-great uncle's haunted house.
Now? You're in another dimension, on the inside of a huge-ass outer space ring the size of the Solar System. And it's 1944--an alternate, Mad Max 1944. Except that doesn't matter because you're a prisoner on a rocketship cruise liner, kidnapped by a billionaire elf supervillain who's obsessed with a Lost City of Doom. And you're smoking weed in the bedroom of his spoiled punk teenage daughter. Who's about to teach you psychic powers.
This can't be real.
But why should that matter? You're not real either.
You rock in your seat, sucking your pipe. The magic stone. Once again you play through that weird, freaky moment when Tama let the cloth sack fall and . . . . what? What did you see? Who are you?
A bad craziness buzzes, but you grit your teeth, shove it down. Who cares if you're in the Matrix? A dream is real to the dreamed.
But what if the dreamer awakens?
K'Leto screws a red bulb into her nightstand lamp. It's the kind with a swivel arm, like they have at workshops. She hands you a pair of swimming goggles. "Here."
You rub your thumbs over the white, bowl-shaped lenses, like ping-pong balls cut in half. You try them on. "I can't see shit."
"You're not supposed to." She passes you a pair of giant headphones with boxy, padded earmuffs. The thick threaded cord centipedes across the carpet, plugging into the stereo.
"It's called the Ganzfeld Technique," she says. "My mother dismisses it because it was developed by an Earthling, a European scientist in the German Empire. They used it during the war for their 'catch-up' gnostic program."
"So, I just wear these and listen to music?" You could do that.
"Not 'music,'" she says, "but you're not wrong. Here, lay down." She points to her bed, a low, messy, king-size thing that could nest a half-dozen elves in a slumber party.
You amble up and can't help but smile at her motorcycle-print comforter. You sink cozily into the mattress, your head against a plush pillow. Vibrations from your high flow through you, but you can fall asleep easily enough.
Leaning over you, her cigarette clenched in her teeth, she takes the pipe from your hands and slips the heavy headphones over your ears. Silver glints on one of her fingers: a rose signet you haven't noticed before.
"It's about sensory deprivation," she says, her voice muffled, "blocking out the world so you can enter your own. Let the static carry you. Reach out, touch with your mind. Nothing will happen your first time, but you should at least skim the Astral."
"Okay," you whisper. This is all very Eddie.
She helps you put on the ping-pong goggles, the rubber strap snagging your hair. You may as well be blind, but with the flick of a switch blackness glows to warm red. Somewhere, a click, and a soft white waterfall sings to you of seashell nothings that lulls you like a lullaby which carries you away into a trackless sea of night . . .
Did you doze off? How long have you been here? You hover in a void weirdly familiar, a lonely island in an empty ocean.
Over there. A light. A beacon.
You swim closer, and it becomes a room, with a bed and a chair and a man and a woman. As if face down in water, you float above where the ceiling would be. The dreamy blur sharpens, and on reflex you cry out,
~Pookie!
On the lacy, cushy bed, Pookie stirs, his head turning but his eyes closed.
~Goosie?
~Pookie!
At the bedside, in a velvet chair, the platinum blonde figure of K'Leto's mom doesn't look your way. She doesn't move. But she sees you.
~Is my daughter teaching you that 'Ganzfeld' foolishness? Her cool annoyance washes through you. ~And she's smoking again, isn't she? Yes, I see it. Come to my quarters. I will train you the correct way.
The scene melts away, and you fall into the void, tumbling end over end until you plop back into K'Leto's bed. You tug off the goggles and squint at the red light shining in your face. You scrabble off the staticky headphones and sit up. "How long was I out?" you ask.
K'Leto is by the bed, in her cockpit chair. She looks puzzled. "Five minutes? Did you see something?"
"I saw Pookie--Burt, my brother. He's, um, with your mom."
Her expression freezes, her half-spent cigarette smoldering in her mouth. "You saw my mother? Then she saw you. And if she saw you . . . ." She leaps from her seat and kicks a pile of cloths. Her Swannish curses remind you of pissed cat warbles.
She turns on you, her black eyes blazing. "She saw me smoking, didn't she? That's just great! Excellent! She'll tell father, and he'll storm in here with security and ransack my room again! Oh, Xoph, and his stupid lectures! So what if my grandparents got cancer? That's our people's curse. The Black Snow's Toll. It's not caused by these!" Her sweeping gesture flicks ash across the white carpet. "And even if his 'studies' are right, it's my choice! He can't live my life! And he's such a hypocrite too. The old fool! He doesn't know it, but I've seen him snorting cocaine with that whore of his. Why should I do what he says? You tell me! Why?"
Eggshells surround you. You tread carefully. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . what did I do again?"
K'Leto draws deeply, then lets out in a long, simmering sigh. "It's not your fault. I didn't think you'd project your first time, much less make contact. You're exceptionally talented--for an Earthling. But in the future, remember this: if you scry on a gnostic, the gnostic can scry right back." She jerks a thumb at her runic posters. "These usually keep mother out, but when you made contact with her, she could use that to see right into my room. Snooping bitch."
K'Leto says she'll teach you more tomorrow, but right now she has to hide her cigarettes. You leave and wander the hallways, half-stumbling not only from the weed, but your Ganzfeld trip too. Was that an out of body experience? Did you really telepathically contact Pookie?
One way to find out. You go up in an elevator, though you can't say why you push the blue button for the fifth deck. A compass in your brain leads you down a hall, and you pass door after door until you stop, knowing somehow this is the place.
~It's unlocked, Helen, calls the soft, musical voice in your head. You press the plate; it slides open. You drift into the dimly lit room, taking in the warm, easy aroma of roses and incense.
If K'Leto is punk and Tama 60's Mod, then K'Leto's mom has gone with an old-timey, fancy-grandma look, with fragile antique furniture and lots of lace and doilies. It's just as you saw in your vision. Pookie sits propped on pillows on the perfectly made over-sized bed, and K'Leto's mom is in a cushioned chair so skinny you doubt it'd hold your weight.
She sips from a tiny baby blue teacup and nods at you. Pookie keeps his china carefully in his lap, cupping it as if protecting a mouse. He gapes at you with wide eyes, his mouth open.
"H . . . Hey Goosie," he says. ~Did that really happen?
"I guess so," you say aloud.
"Come. Sit," K'Leto's mom says, motioning at the bed with a dainty white hand. "I was training your brother in the art of meditation, but now I'm about to begin his language lesson. Would you like some tea?"
You settle next to Pookie. "Yeah. Thanks."
With aristocratic grace, she pours a cup from a tea set. She's shorter and curvier than K'Leto, and prettier too, at least classically, lacking her daughter's nasty sneer and harsh angles. She's let down her French braid, and her lush, ash blonde hair drapes over her slender shoulders and down the back of her tight blue silk dress--a shiny Asian-style piece that matches her twin sleeves of silvery runic tattoos. Its low-cut front offers a nice view of the crucifix dangling in her cleavage, and the slit up the side shows a lot of her firm, pale, rune-tatted leg.
"Cream? Honey? Sugar?" she asks.
You turn away quickly. "Cream and sugar, please."
Bamboo tapestries and silk murals decorate the walls, most of flowers and landscapes, though one features a bloody Jesus nailed to the cross. A framed black and white photo shows her and Tama holding a newborn before an alter with a stone crucifix. Tama has more hair, less wrinkles, and K'Leto's mom can't be older than you. Baby K'Leto, snug in her blankie, stares at the camera with black bug eyes as an elf man in a fancy robe and pope hat pours water on her head. K'Leto's mom beams proudly; Tama grins too, though his has a smuggy smirkness to it.
Another picture, this on her nightstand, has a toddler K'Leto sitting on Tama's shoulders, laughing as she points at something out of frame. Her other hand holds a toy airplane while behind them full-sized real ones--stubby-winged, WWII-ish fighters--squat on a runway.
K'Leto's mom hands you a saucer with a cup not much bigger than a thimble. The red drink smells sweetly of smoke and apples. You dab in your tongue: not bad.
"Now that you've spent time with my daughter," she says, "what do you think of her?"
"Um . . ." Should you lie? Can you lie to a telepath? How do you feel, anyway?
K'Leto's mom smiles serenely. Mischief dances in her icy blue eyes. "Mmm. The Vaugnases tend to be . . . that way. But K'Leto hasn't murdered any kin nor attempted a coup, so she's better than her more infamous ancestors. Tama is too, for that matter. But regardless, that was a price I knew I would pay, that any child of ours would inherit 'the spider's taint.'"
You don't ask. You don't have to.
"You wonder why I married him," she says. "That's a long, personal tale, but perhaps by telling it, you will see why we serve him. Drink your tea. Lie beside your brother."
The elf's voice has a weird, reverberating undertone that sends tingles down your spine. What was that thing Eddie told you about? AMRS? ARSM? You and Pookie exchange dubious looks, but you both down your cups. Slowly, he lies down on one side of the bed. You crawl across and take the other. The mattress sinks and rocks with gurgling waves: a waterbed. Your head lolls on the pillow. The ceiling above greets you like a gray fog.
~We've been drugged.
"A slight sedative," she says, "whose purpose will be revealed. But before I begin, are either of you familiar with Cyrus the Great?"
The question takes you off guard. Are you supposed to?
"Th-the . . . King of Persia?" Pookie half-slurs.
"Yes," she says, "from your Earth's Ancient Age. Cyrus, King of Kings, King of the Four Corners of the World. When I was very young, my mother would tell of how though he was a heathen, God touched his heart and through him restored the Jews to their homeland. These tellings are among my earliest memories, and though my faith was strong, the stories couldn't elude their fantastic, fairy tale quality. Judah, Persia, Babylon . . . these could be found on no map, but existed in a faraway world, in a long ago time. But their truth was grounded in one respect: at my mother's belief that history repeats itself, that Tama D'vaugnas was Cyrus the Great come again.
"To understand what that means, you must know my background. I was born in a slum in the Kaiensian ghetto, and before I was a year old we had already been relocated to the Coraphana Factory Camp. I was too young to remember when typhus took my sister, and I never met my brother before he met his end in the trenches at Fahanas.
"I won't elaborate on our civil war. The Dragons may have sparked the fire, but despite what Tama will tell you, the conflict was never about political ideologies. Assal has always been a troubled country, a weak kingdom made into a weaker republic, with too many peoples, too many faiths. We Korigans were never well liked, and the ones of us in Christ even less so. Already my parents had been driven from Kogira ten years earlier. No land could be our home.
"My mother says little about the Ky'lan Genocide, and history circumvents the act, dismissing the deaths as exaggerations or the result of disease and malnutrition. Excuses and evasions. I don't know the full extent of what happened in our camp, but I know many innocents died.
"The horrors affected my parents deeply. My father gave in to despair, his soul waning, shuttering away. Even years later when we were safe, he always bore a slackness in his expression, a hollowness in his eyes. My mother was scarcely better, but she would not give up. Her love for me and her fellowship with Christ kindled in her the fires of hope. And hope did come . . . though in an unexpected form.
"As you've witnessed firsthand, the Swans hold curious customs. You have a term for one of them: 'filibustering.' It's almost a rite of passage for young, wealthy men to hire mercenaries and 'go adventuring.' Usually this entails shooting savages and stealing treasure, but Tama saw in our war the spread of that cancerous scourge known as communism. Call it civic duty, call it hubris, but against the advice of his peers, he hired Corn--that's Director Esau--and together he and his company joined with the Free Ky'lan Army. They raided supply lines, liberated villages. As their fame grew, their ranks swelled with partisans.
"My mother would always remember when their mighty, rumbling land leviathans rolled over the barbed wire fences. The factory guards tried to surrender, but . . . . Tama's detractors speak of 'massacres' and 'war crimes,' but of this my mother would only say he slew many wicked men that day. She also says he cut a dashing figure as he climbed from his armored machine, clad in his red and green uniform, a sword and pistol in his hands. He was a tall, lean young man barely out of his teenage years, with long flowing locks and a winning smile. She recognized him at once. The papers were rarely kind to the Vaugnases, and Tama had a reputation. So it was with some surprise that this swarthy mutant playboy was our savior.
"He and his men passed out water, food and clothes. He even briefly spoke with my mother, asking if she needed a doctor. She was nursing me at the time, which she says made him blush. It's strange to think that was the first time we met.
"Under ordinary circumstances, I think he would have left us to fend for ourselves. He was there to kill communists, not shepherd refugees. He was also--as I would learn years later--there to relieve museums of their artifacts. But nevertheless, as fate would have it, he had fallen in love.
"You saw the portrait in his private chambers. The sad Korigan girl in the purple dress. Her name was Rini Jo'snik, but Tama called her his Sweet Pea. He rescued her from a brothel a few weeks prior. He's always has a softness for pretty waifs with sad stories, and she was indeed a pitiful thing, her family lost in the Kaien Uprising, and she herself enslaved. As ludicrous as it sounds, I believe everything he did for our people was only to make her smile.
"But regardless of the reason, he did much. It's been said this was unnecessary. Consul Mirekif's army was in shambles; the war was won. And while most chose to remain in Assal, nearly a thousand, including my parents, accepted Tama's offer. Assal held no future for us. Why stay in a ravaged country, with not a crown to our name?
"From his own purse, Tama arranged our exodus to Swanland, settling us in Toloran, in the company town of Gonobree, near the Sologoth border. He employed both my parents as workers in one of his machine parts plants, and with their wages they rented a small brick house in an outskirt neighborhood of fellow refugees.
"I enjoyed a comfortable childhood, attending a good company school, with a few close friends. But a miasma of loss hung over my life, a gloom exasperated by my still latent gnosis. It was more than the injustice of our history; it was the fickleness of fate. So many had suffered unfairly; so many had been saved by one man's whim.
"Because he was our CEO, we kept Tama's portrait on our kitchen wall. I remember being fearful of that enigmatic smile, the way his deep black eyes would follow me around the room. We were expected to thank the picture before meals--one of the Swans' myriad cultural quirks, a relic from the reign of the Merchant Princes, during the Late Second Age. My mother of course thought this blasphemous. But still, she revered him. He was our Cyrus.
"He visited our home once, when I was three. I recall the event only hazily, my excitement but a contagion caught from my mother's mania to ensure the house was immaculate for his arrival. And when he did arrive, I hid behind her apron because to me he was only a tall, imposing grown up with the same strange face from the portrait. Rini was with him--another grown up, but short like my mother, with eyes and hair like mine. She was shy but kind, and even at my young age I could feel her sadness. She gave me chocolate.
"Tama spoke with my mother--my father was out drinking--and gave out presents of his own."
Wood creaks; you catch movement on the edge of your vision as K'Leto's mom stands over the bed with arm outstretched, her crucifix dangling over Pookie's head. She steps around to your side, and you try to focus on the swaying cross, the dim window light glinting off the silver. Your eyes decide that's too much effort, so it remains a drifting, shining blur against a gray backdrop. Why can't you move? Isn't that a bad thing? You float dreamily on the mattress, unable to care.
She returns to her chair. "Years later, I learned the visit was nothing special. Tama was checking up on all his Korigan families, and the gifts were but baubles purchased in bulk. But still I've worn this every day.
"I was eight when Rini . . . concluded her life. That's our euphemism, and it's sadly a common fate for our kind. But unlike most, hers wasn't the result of tumorous growths or blood illness, but instead a wound of the soul that neither time nor love could heal.
"At school we wore white in mourning, and we wrote Tama letters of condolence. Not that he read them. While years later he would fund research into combating traumas and melancholia, at present he was inconsolable, his grief leading him down dark paths.
"Years passed. As I grew, my gnosis manifested. I enrolled in our school's sorcerer candidacy program, and after they arranged my heartstone test, Diagnus Corp sponsored my training at Sologoth's Sorcerer Academy, where I scored High Yellow. It was around this time the Great War broke out . . . and I attracted Tama's affections.
"I was no fool. I resembled his lost love. But why should that matter? He captivated me, with his manic charm, his brooding magnetism. To be with him was to bask in the sun.
"I didn't even care that he was married. And neither did my mother. She encouraged me in fact, for who knew what boons I could extract for our people? This mercenary pragmatism offended me, but as I was later to learn, hers was the wisest approach.
"I graduated with the commission of Junior Lieutenant, and Tama's influence placed me as an attache to his Security Assets. I served by his side, and when I swelled with child, he divorced his second wife--a vapid debutante, the daughter of a viscount. We wed three days before K'Leto's birth.
"I was well aware of the kind of man he was. I believed I could change him, even lead him to Christ. To your lack of surprise, I was unsuccessful.
"It wasn't his atheism or his belittling attitude regarding my faith--I could accept that. It wasn't even his infidelity--that hurt, but I could overlook such indiscretions. But he was not discreet, and he lied constantly. To me, a gnostic! Even if he can block my probes, I am no imbecile.
"The final nail was during a banquet at Kruza, in Zurain, where he paraded around his barbarian peasant whore and her twin infants--with the traits, of course. The guests cooed at how beautiful they were, which made Tama puff with pride. Never have I been more humiliated.
"I confronted him. 'You promised you would be faithful!' 'How can you lie again and again?' 'Do you have no shame?'
"Throughout my tirade he only smiled, then replied it was my fault for being angry. Hadn't he cheated on his previous wife with me? Did I think I would be different? Moreover, so great was his masculinity, how could he limit himself to one woman? And look how cute those babies are! If he hadn't had the affair, they wouldn't exist! How could I be so heartless?
"At first I was enraged--if our roles were reversed, he would hardly be so blase!--but upon further reflection . . . he was right. Not how he claimed, but right in that I entered our marriage with both eyes open. Tama was and is a vain, womanizing scoundrel, and it's unfair of me to hold him to a higher standard. After all, it was Cyrus the Great, not Cyrus the Good.
"We divorced amicably, and our relationship improved once I learned to accept him for who he is. And he repented of how he treated me, in his way. It was for this he made me his General Secretary. And later, conducted me into the Ritual.
"This brought dark revelations, and challenges to my faith. But some truths are sacred. They are worth preserving, worth ensuring they come to pass. And that is why I serve Tama. For wicked reasons he walks the path of the righteous, and through him will we bring about the Kingdom of Heaven."
"How . . . how will you do this?" Pookie mumbles. "Why won't you tell us?" But here's something wrong about his voice, or at least about the words that he says. The vowels and consonants, they yowl and warble like . . . .
You break out in goosebumps. You jerk up from the bed. "Pookie, what are you--?" But you cut off, your own voice making the same weird Vietnamesey sounds.
Swannish. You're speaking Swannish. Pookie was speaking Swannish. And then it hits: K'Leto's mom was speaking Swannish too. And you understood every word.
"Yes," she says in English. She sips her tea daintily. "But that's enough for today. It'll take about a week of lessons before your Broca areas adjust, and in the meantime there'll be the occasional linguistic confusion. And I'm afraid there's nothing to be done about your atrocious accents."
To help you wind down, she talks you two through meditation practice, going over the breathing exercises and how to move your consciousness through your body's seven 'thrones' ("Or 'chakras,' as your Asian races calls them"). She then warns you about shortcuts.
"My daughter is not entirely wrong," she says. "The Ganzfeld Technique is very effective. Too effective, for it permits power without perception. In order to build a house, one must first lay the foundation, and in gnosis, that foundation is self-mastery of the soul. Otherwise you risk psychic assault or possession. The astral realm is beautiful, but can be deadly. Though admittedly the danger is for the moment minor. Spirits are unlikely to loiter over interworld oceans."
Afterwards, you and Pookie head back to your quarters. You have to lean on him a little because your limbs are like jelly, and you feel real loose like a long-necked Goosie.
Pookie frowns. ~Whatever she gave us, it wasn't in her tea.
You hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, slipping us roofies is uncool," you say, "but I guess she needed to make our brains soft to poke our Brocas or whatever."
"Doesn't make it right," Pookie whispers. "She still should have warned us first."
"She's a supervillain's right hand woman," you say. "What did we expect? Anyway, if she thought that story was going to make us like Tama more, she really doesn't get us."
"Perhaps not, but I understand why she follows him."
You snort. "Grooming?"
"Something like that," Pookie says. "Her story makes me sad, and kind of uncomfortable."
"Tama is a creep," you say. "By the way, you saw him earlier. What'd you talk about?"
Pookie's full lips purse. "Occult things. A summary of it, anyway. Tama's very personable, and . . . I don't think he's a monster. Not a complete one. I'll give him that."
You find your family in the center (Pookie's) room. Eddie lounges on the bed, smoking a joint, while Maribel sits in a beanbag chair, munching a bowl of purple popcorn. They're watching a TV show of two wizards fighting each other in crumbling castle ruins.
Bobbi doesn't seem as interested. She half-waves from a corner where she leans against a padded wall, her wide mouth a tense line more thoughtful than angry. She blows vape vapor through her nostrils and asks, "What you two been up to?"
You shrug. "A little sword fighting, a little astral projection. Oh, and me and Pookie can do telepathy now."
That gets Eddie and Maribel's attention. Your sister's eyes light up. "Do me! Do me!"
You and Pookie try, with all of them. But after a couple of minutes all Eddie feels is a tingle, and Maribel and Bobbi not even that. Your carefully shake your head, a sinus pressure building behind your eyes.
~Guess we need more practice.
~I'm not surprised it's easier between us.
"After all, I think we've been doing it for years," Pookie finishes aloud.
Everyone tells what they've been doing. Tama lectured Pookie about 'comparative theosophy' and the 'Outer Gods,' who all have stupid names like 'Nyarlathotep' and 'Yog-Sothoth.' Eddie spent time with Dr. Widari, who taught him a bunch of stuff about runes. Maribel practiced aeromancy with Mage Tethys, and to show off, she levitates above the carpet and makes her popcorn circle her like Saturn's rings.
"She says later she can teach me how to make wards. Those are the wizard bubbles. And she can teach me to shoot lightning, and summon tulpas, like my baby tornadoes! Except these will be smarter, like little airy fairy friends!"
Bobbi did more than just shoot a gun all day. She met with Ayama after your fencing practice, and the Vendi girl showed her around the computer room. And they looked at Samael, and apparently there's also a half-assembled robot in the engineering bay.
"It's Fallout as fuck," Bobbi says. "Noodle arms. Fish bowl head. Vacuum tube brain. It's not a Ford 385, but if I tinker with it, I can figure out what goes where. Oh, and the Swans have the internet. Kind of. It's called 'the Grid.' It's a lot of supercomputers hooked up through phone lines. Just corporate and government stuff. 'Yama chats with nerds all across their world."
From a red plastic desk Bobbi picks up her phone. The charger cord runs from it to a blocky gizmo, which then connects to a wall outlet. "And look what we rigged up. Adapts to their goofy plugs. Charges slow, but that's better than frying our phones."
No one's happy when you tell about K'Leto's mom. "She fucking drugged you?" Bobbi snaps.
"It wasn't that bad," you say. "It's worn off. And it's worth it because we're like, 'learning' Swannish."
Eddie giggles, his blue eyes red from the weed. "Babel fish tea?"
"Can I drink it?" Maribel asks.
"I don't know," Pookie says. "I'll have to talk to Dr. Herrica."
You roll your eyes. Pookie's always worrying about everything. "It'll be fine," you say. "And anyway, it beats weeks of language classes."
You order room service through the intercom, and after explaining to the waitress you don't want any of their nasty shit, you all settle on five cheeseburgers with a side of chopped up baked potatoes and tomato sauce. You ask for beer, but Pookie launches into a lecture on mixing drugs and alcohol and blah blah blah liver damage, blah blah blah respiratory failure.
"If the tea was that dangerous, she wouldn't have given it to us," you say.
"You don't know that!" Pookie says.
"Fine," you say.
When food arrives, you all watch a couple of episodes of Battlemage Xelanno: Savior at Age's End. The TV-guide brochure thing (in both English and Swannish) says it's a 'youth adventure program' based on the historical life and times of Xelanno, heir to the sacred geomancy school of Kaligi zu Xen, who was born the night before the Vindi Atomic War. Set 'after the thawing of the Black Snow and before the rise of the Six Kingdoms,' the series follows the battlemage as he wanders the wastes, defending the innocent and fighting evil.
There's no subtitles, but you kind of follow along. It's pretty badass, with a banging rock soundtrack. And wizards shout their attacks like they're in Dragon Ball Z, and every time Xelanno unleashes his full power his leather vest rips to shreds, showing off his rippling pecs and abs. The sets, costumes and stuff remind you of Xena, except with geysers of blood and 80's gore effects.
The first episode has Xelanno protecting a village against a giant mutant werewolf cyromancer warlord (a human in furry cosplay). Xelanno kills his way through the werewolf gang, summons rock golems to battle ice golems, then finally, after a long wizard-kung-fu fight, blows up the werewolf's head Scanners-style. The second episode guest-stars Valree, who plays a cackling bikini-clad necromancer commanding a horde of crocodile zombies. She has magic bracelets that can no-sell Xelanno's attacks, so he has to team up with a cute mocha-skinned, Asian-looking priestess in a miniskirt robe. Together they get an amulet from a temple and the priestess does a ritual (she dances naked to disco music) that makes Valree's creations turn on her. As the credits roll, Tama's girlfriend screams as she's chewed to bits by animatronic puppets.
Maribel giggles so hard she spills her plate. Pookie checks the TV-guide again and frowns. "I can't believe this is for children," he says.
"Different cultures, Burt," Eddie says, munching the last of his fries.
"At least they weren't killing real animals this time," Bobbi says.
Still stoned, you lean from your egg-shell chair and empty your cashed bowl into a tacky green ashtray. "They save that for musicals," you say.
"I still don't think Maribel should watch this," Pookie says.
"It teaches me how to be a wizard!" Maribel says.
"Yeah," you say, "we don't want to like, stunt her education, do we Pook?"
The others laugh. Pookie tosses the guide down and slumps into his seat in defeat. You lock eyes with him.
~She ripped four Deep Ones to pieces.
He does his Charlie Brown sigh. ~I know.
~She saw a wizard levitate severed heads.
~I know.
~This won't hurt her.
~We don't know that. I just want to protect her.
~You are. But we're not mom and dad.
The thought conjures unwanted memories. Your throat tightens, the grief hurting all the more for being shared with your twin. His face sours.
~I'm sorry.
~No, you're right. We're not. But she needs parents.
~We're doing our best, Pookie. That has to count.
Later that evening, you and Bobbi are in your room, lying in bed. The gentle AC keeps the air a soft cool while the far-off purr of engines lulls you like a lullaby. Outside the round window the neverending ocean rolls below a million stars shining in constellations you've never seen. The Ring, a thin dotted-line across the night sky, glows a ghostly blue.
She's not pissed like last night, but there's still in her a grumpy tension, a bitter resignation. Under the sheets, she has her arm around you, her fingers nervously drumming your belly. You snuggle into her warm spoon.
"Ayama seemed pretty nice," you say, "but I didn't hang out with her one-on-one. What's she like?"
Bobbi snickers into your hair. "Jealous?"
You shrug. "Should I be? You blew me off earlier."
"It ain't like that, Babe." She kisses your ear. "Just needed some space. Get my head on right. And 'Yama's straight as a razor. Wouldn't shut up about marrying a Big Strong Vendi man to give her Big Strong Vendi kids. But what about 'Leto? Gaydar goes ping with that one."
"I don't know," you say. "Maybe bi. Either way, she's kind of a bitch."
"Yama says that too."
"Who wouldn't?" you say. "'Leto's a lot like her dad. Her mom talks like they all got supervillain genes. But she taught me telepathy, so she's all right, I guess."
Bobbi nods, her face nuzzling the back of your head. "'Yama is good people. She's . . . uh . . . hang on." She pulls away and slips out of bed.
The pale ringlight highlights the curves of her nakedness as she crosses the room to the boxy stereo. She pops in a random cassette. An Asiany-sounding orchestra drifts from the speakers. It's not loud, but should be loud enough.
She climbs back under the sheets, this time facing you. In the dark, she holds you close, her brown eyes inches from yours. With a breath of hot mint, she whispers, "'Yama is a Vendi Nationalist."
"Um, yeah," you say, keeping your voice low. "That's what she said yesterday. She was all like, 'Black Power!' or whatever."
"Can you blame her?" Bobbi asks. "The Swans make them live on reservations, and they're drafted if they're not straight-A students. They don't even get to vote. Not really."
"Well, that's bullshit." You nod at the music. "But why the paranoia?"
"Because she can be an ally. She has friends on the Grid. Members of the Vendi Separatist Movement. Anarchists. Communists. People who aren't Tama groupies. We play our cards right, she might hook us up, help us escape."
You hold in your sigh, but Bobbi feels you tense. She frowns. "What?"
"Escape where, Bobbi? To Pat Savage?"
She squints, her mouth a confused pucker. "We don't have to . . . but isn't that why you're hanging out with 'Leto?"
You let it out. "Yeah, it is. But I'm thinking: what then? Won't Pat just drag us off to rescue her sister?"
Bobbi wags her head against her pillow. "Eh, maybe? But it's like what 'Leto told you. There's a lot more at stake."
"Fighting Ironbone?" you say. "Yeah, no thanks."
"And what do we do if he comes back?"
"It's a big Ring," you say. "We just go where Ironbone isn't."
Bobbi's silent, studying stare stretches on.
"Look, I just want to be free-free," you say. "Not under anyone's thumb. Is that too much to ask?"
She cups your cheek. "That's what I want too, Babe. Why do you think I was all for going jail-break? Now we just need to keep our eyes open and wait until we can slip the leash."
She soon drifts off, and you're left alone with your thoughts. She's right--you got to bide your time--but she also doesn't see the whole picture. Tama and Pat only really need Eddie (and maybe Aunt Esha), so in the end it's his choice. And since Eddie's kind of a weirdo, you guess he's going to pick Tama. That's cool. He and anyone else who wants to join him can fly off to the Lost City of Doom and get in stupid adventures, and you can hang out in Tama's skyscraper and smoke weed. Everyone's happy.
For now, though, you're stuck on this ship, but that's not so bad. The next four days are actually pretty nice. You and K'Leto keep fencing, and you even spar with Pookie a few times. You also do your telepathy training, and you don't even need the Ganzfeld goggles after you get the hang of it.
Pookie asked Dr. Herrica about the drugged tea, and it's a benzo-whatever, which is the same thing as Valium and Xanax. Pookie goes all frowny-face at that, but the doctor says it's only a mild dose. You all do the language training, though Maribel drinks only a little tea (and Bobbi not at all). After a couple of days you skip the tea altogether. K'Leto's mom doesn't go on about her personal life anymore, but instead reads you Swannish poetry and fairy tales. Maribel calls it 'Story Time with Elsa.'
You and Bobbi spend time at the shooting range. It's not very big, only about fifty feet long, with paper cutout bad guys hanging at the end. The only kind of gun they have is a mid-sized semi-auto with a boxy slide and rubber grips. It's a cute pistol, with an ambidextrous safety and mag-release buttons. It holds nine .32-ish rounds in the magazine (and in case you get any ideas, the bullets are chalk).
There to 'assist' you is one of the elves from the ship's security team. Wearing white body armor and a helmet with a plexiglass shield, he watches you by the door, his hands never far from his pistol and baton. At first Bobbi keeps shooting him dirty looks, but after a while you chat him up and find you know enough of each other's language to get by.
His name is Sergeant Pressa (but you can call him Jann). He's a friendly guy--mid-thirties, handsome (for an elf), with that Sicilian look the Swans have. He's a farm boy from the plains of Verveenia, which is one of the six 'Confederal Kingdoms.' He served in the Blue Airborne during the war, riding gliders down from troop transports behind enemy lines. He doesn't go into detail, but you guess it's spec-op stuff. He works for Tama because the pay's good and the benefits excellent. Especially the medical, since his son was born with bad kidneys.
Looking back, Bobbi's plan of raiding the armory and holding the ship hostage was pretty stupid. You wouldn't want to face down Green Berets or Navy SEALs, even if they're four foot eight. Plus you'd feel bad killing these guys, after you get to know them.
On the last night, Tama holds a party. Half the crew packs into the club, most of them dancing to the synth-funk blasting from the wall speakers. Colored floor hexagons flash to the beats while above a giant diamond ball slowly spins, scattering starlight over all. Zizzy's hologram serpent snakes between gyrating bodies, sometimes stopping to light cigarettes or spit sparkles into drinks. Maribel likes that and earlier chased the tulpa through the crowd, her sneakers inches in the air.
Everyone makes room for Tama. He wears a white, big-collared silk shirt, halfway unbuttoned to show off his pecs. His matching pants hug his thighs but flare at the bottom around his white loafers.
Black eyes wide as saucers, elf ears perked like horns, he grins manically as he struts to the song, his thinning, graying hair damp and matted, the lights glinting off sweaty scalp. His ruby and emerald medallion sways as he bounces butts with Valree, whose dress isn't more than a half-dozen wispy scarves sewed together. It flaps and slips as she dances, her waist-length chestnut hair swirling around her slender curves.
You sip your strawberry-kiwi beer, unable peel to your eyes from the show. She's . . . really pretty. Adorable. Beautiful. Even for a weird anime elf. Why the fuck is she with this creepy middle-aged Bond villain? Oh, right. Billionaire. A lot of the crew clap and cheer to their performance, though the cheers kind of sound like laughter.
~Mid-life crisis?
You nod to Pookie, sitting across the table from you. So many here to watch Tama make a fool of himself--and so many who aren't here.
K'Leto lurked in the back for a while, but only to scowl at her dad before skulking off. And you don't see K'Leto's mom anywhere, or Ayama, or her mom, or that old Arab guy. And out of the ship's wizards, only Zizzy's here, chatting with Valree's camera guy in the DJ box. No Alan Turing either, though he said this afternoon he wouldn't be coming: the music gives him a headache. After a few songs you can't blame him.
You and Eddie did some dancing. But clubbing isn't your little brother's thing, and you've had enough of this disco shit. So the two of you joined Pookie, Bobbi and Maribel at a booth by the long window running the length of the club.
The fruity rice-brewed beers aren't bad; you even let Maribel have a sip (though Pookie doesn't like that). Bobbi ran out of vape yesterday, so she's onto the Lucky Strikes you bought her in Huckley. She blows smoke as she stares into the night at a lightning storm raging silently miles away.
"That's Ally's magic!" Maribel says through a mouthful of ice cream. She taps the window with her spoon. "She uses her witchboard to keep the storms away. Ross does it too, but with rain."
Ross. That's the hippy hydromancer. A fellow pothead, from what you hear. Maybe you can hit him up when your stash runs out--which fortunately shouldn't be for a few weeks.
You take out your pipe and are packing your bowl when from out of the crowd waddles the short, squat Dr. Widari, dressed stylish in his plushy red robe, a gold medallion swinging from his thick neck. Eddie raises his beer in greeting, and the dwarf salutes with the silver stein in his squid-hand.
"I'm surprised you're here, Doctor," Eddie says, having to shout over the music.
Widari pops the lid on his mug and takes a slurp, wobbling on bent monkey legs. "Overlong research dulls the mind," he says loudly in a raspy voice, his accent carefully pronouncing each English word.
"All work and no play, huh?" Eddie says.
"May I sit with you?"
Eddie scoots closer to Pookie, and Widari hefts his fat beachball-body into the booth. Even across the table you can't help but wrinkle your nose at his moldy funk--a dirt-stink, like an old worn blanket dug from moist ground. His mirrored sci-fi visor, twinkling in the disco lights, hides his three pink beady eyes, leaving his face weirdly unreadable. Not that you can read much in his chimp snout with its seemingly permanent little grin. Pale crusty warts poke from his elephant skin, like macadamias from gray cookie dough.
He flaps a tentacle-finger all around him, taking in the whole club. "Human aesthetics evolve at an accelerating pace. Five years ago, this electronics-produced, Vendian-derived musical genre did not exist. Twenty-five years ago, electronic-stringed musical instruments did not exist. Technology fuses with culture.
"This is untrue of my race. We keep to traditions, and we say, 'The songs of our ancestors are the songs of our descendants.'" He barks once, like a shouted cough, his open mouth showing brown horsey teeth. You all flinch at his sour-milk-and-whiskey breath. "I jest! We say this, but it is a lie! The songs of our parents are not the songs of our children!
"And do parents enjoy the songs of their children? On occasion, yes, but usually no. I know I generally do not." He gestures at Tama, who's now moonwalking across the dance floor. "But in this, my friend is unusual. In his objective to attract fertilely-prime females, he adopts their cultural preferences."
Eddie snorts. "So he's all like, 'How do you do, fellow kids?'"
Widari laughs again, harder; you cover your nose. "Yes!" He claps Eddie on the shoulder. "Yes! That is Tama! His deceptions fail, yet he succeeds because of his immense wealth!"
"Very classy," Bobbi says, snubbing out her cigarette.
Widari swivels his bald head and studies her through his sunglasses. "He is of the patrician class, which also assists in his designs. And yet as the rate of cultural evolution increases, so must he continue to adapt to remain relevant. This will prove especially bothersome once we return from the Autumn City, as at least a decade will likely have passed."
You pause in sparking your bowl. "Wait, what?"
"Time dilation," Eddie says. "We talked about this last night. Remember?"
"Uhhh . . ." You were pretty high.
"One hundred ninety-four days," Widari says. "That is how long we were in the Autumn City. But when we finally repaired the Humperdinck and escaped the Fog, fifteen years had passed. There are competing theories as to the specifics of this discrepancy, but all involve the warping of spacetime.
"I have discussed with Tama the business consequences of this effect. In his estimation, his children are inadequate to manage Diagnus in his absence. He proposes installing Cyclops as temporary CEO, but this introduces legal challenges regarding the personhood of artificial intelligences--challenges I suspect insurmountable in the short term.
"But in general, Tama is unconcerned, as business will be irreverent once the Final State is attained. I hold a more pragmatic position, for I do not believe he will succeed in his utopia."
No one speaks. Pookie arches his eyebrows. Widari sips his nasty drink and says, "Consider this Ring, this . . . reality. It is vast and ageless. Innumerable civilizations have risen and fallen. If Tama's quest was achievable, would it not have been accomplished eons ago?"
"Then why are you helping him?" Bobbi asks.
Widari's thin lips curl upwards. "Because there is beauty in the attempt."
"Attempt what?" Pookie asks. He leans forward, looking across Eddie at Widari. "Final State? What does that mean? Utopia? Utopia how? Any chance you'll explain that to us?"
"No," Eddie says. "I've tried."
"It was truth," Widari says, "when Tama said you would not believe. You may suspect, but until you are confronted by the Ritual, you will remain blind."
"The Ritual sounds weird," Maribel says.
"And only Eddie gets to do it," you say.
Eddie shrugs. "I'll tell you guys what happens."
"And they will not believe you," Widari says.
"We will," you say, meeting his visored eyes.
~I don't like this guy.
~I'm not sure I do either, but . . .
"Okay . . ." Pookie says, letting the word out like a sigh. "You can't tell us Tama's plans, but can you tell us about the Autumn City? Aside from Aunt Esha, you're the only one on this ship who's been there."
"Yeah," Eddie says to Widari, "you've mentioned it, but you never really told me the whole story."
"I want to hear it!" Maribel says.
Widari leans forward, looking across Eddie at Pookie. The mimicry is obvious. "You intend to derive information from my tale to deduce Tama's plans. That is acceptable. I will tell you of the expedition, but not here." He climbs out of the booth and checks his pocketwatch. "We arrive at Sologoth in one hour. Let us watch from the Observation Deck."
He stops by the bar to refill his mug of whiskey-milk, and Pookie gets another beer. You light your pipe, take a hit and pass it to Eddie. The music's switched to a synth-pop piece heavy on the drums and sax; Zizzy's serpent sprays white sparkles while dancers stomp to the beats and sing to the lyrics, which you kind of make out as about 'Snow Party Fever' or whatever.
You and Eddie share the weed as the five of you follow Widari out of the noisy club and into the soft quiet of the white hallways. After a quick, cramped ride down an elevator, he leads you towards the front of the ship. You're pretty baked when you reach the large, dim room with the wide, slanted windows, the middle one a big hexagon with a sturdy frame. Far away in the stormy night, purple lightning flashes across charcoal clouds. Swaying on your feet, you blink at the green strobe-light afterimages.
Widari plops into an egg chair. You and Bobbi pick a love seat, Pookie, Eddie and Maribel a sofa. Seen only in dark silhouette, the dwarf chugs from his stein and tugs from his robe a long curved wizard pipe, like something Gandalf would smoke. He lights it with a match and puffs thoughtfully, blowing white smoke rings through his slit nostrils. He drums his tentacles on his gut.
"I have chronicled the journey in my memoirs," he says, "yet have barely conveyed the metaphysical ramifications of what we discovered. I surmise you know the general outline of the voyage?"
"Oskar told us what he knew," Pookie says.
"He knows only salient facts," Widari says. "Adequate in summary, but there are truths omitted, revelations undocumented. My motives sprang beyond Clan Eirohm's profit. I sought beauty and illumination.
"But my clan is not governed by philosophical aesthetics, so I presented Imperial Count Gerbern's expedition as an opportunity for technological patent rights. My parents and my grandparents disapproved because of my youth. I was fifty-five years old--late life by human standards, but barely an adult to my people. Also, I was betrothed to my future spouse, and my demise on this adventure would deprive us of a familial tie to Clan Or-El. But I persisted in my arguments, extolling the potential advantages over our competitors. Reluctantly, my family relented.
"Gerbern purchased two aged ships, the corvette Humperdinck and the aviso Pfeil, and he spared no expense in retrofitting the vessels with tri-semantic turbines, vacuum-insulated lifters, aero-enhanced propellers, and Jodham-runic hull plating. From my own inheritance I invested into this enterprise, supplying the latest Eirohm-produced breech-loading turret guns, as well as repeating firearms and personal armor. The lever-action carbine? That was Esha's and was crafted by Eirohm. The three-barreled shotgun? That too was crafted by Eirohm--by myself, specifically. I discharged it often during the expedition, and gifted it to Gerbern when we parted ways. I have been told both weapons were of use to you? I am glad. They are your birthrights."
"Um, thank you," Pookie says.
"You are welcome. Though I only knew Gerbern for less than two years, I consider him a good friend. This is true of Esha as well, and of Nirro, the shaman, Iso and Jothi, the gnostics, Father Hatha, the aero-hydromancer, Dakatu, the metalmancer, Xarius, the marine captain, and, later in our adventure, Samael, the android. Among these, only Father Hatha remains. And Esha, if she should be awakened. And Samael, if it should be repaired.
"But at the onset of our venture there was no such camaraderie. My objectives notwithstanding, I thought Gerbern possessed inadequate leadership and was skeptical that Esha's runes could navigate dimensional fog. I was also apprehensive when Gerbern employed subterfuge to appropriate two heartstones from New Dortmund Academy, but he argued it is better to ask forgiveness than permission. I remain doubtful of this claim. But fortunately the Jaganma Empire's judicial processes operated slowly, and we would depart before they could conclude their investigation. Ultimately, their judgement would not matter since the government would collapse during our absence.
"Gerbern and Esha held a lavish revelry, and the following morning we embarked. This was fifty-five years ago, before turbojets and turboprops. We had no slipstream saddling, no aero-runonics. While the Sweet Pea Jo'snik can travel from New Dresden to Duellona in four days, for the Humperdinck and Pfeil, the journey took fifty-seven days.
"I was aboard the Humperdinck--to my fortune, as fate would reveal. It was a compact, pragmatic vessel, lacking the Sweet Pea's amenities. Being of wealthy background, I was unaccustomed to this austerity, but illumination requires sacrifice. With time at my disposal, I continued my research into semantic runology and came to appreciate the beauty of Esha's equations. My greatest works to come would be inspired by what I learned from her.
"On the fifty-first day, we spotted in the distance the dark line of Vendi-Ka land. On the fifty-third day, we resupplied at a depot on the tip of a continent you would call Africa. But aside from its geographical shape, you would not recognize the land because ninety-three percent of its terrain is desert. I have discussed this with Eddie, but I assume the rest of you know the generalities of Vendi-Ka?"
You put down your pipe, your eyes mesmerized by the thunderstorm lightshow. But before you can reply, Pookie says, "It's an Earth, or at least part of an Earth, transmigrated to the Ring five thousand years ago."
"Four thousand seven hundred thirty-six years ago," Widari says, "according to the current consensus. But that the Atomic War happened five hundred fifty-six years ago is indisputable. Their ecosystem has partially recovered in the intervening centuries, but the majority remains wasteland, with most flora and fauna suffering heavy mutations.
"There are hundreds of small settlements among the more habitable regions, many founded by Vendi who survived in great underground vaults. Equally numerous are the archaeological sites. While virtually all major cities were annihilated, there are innumerable ruins to explore and artifacts to recover.
"These did not interest us, for our eyes were set on Duellona, also known as Bellona, D'Yute, the Autumn City and the Inconstant City. But you will recognize it by its original name: Byzantium."
"Oh," Pookie says, as if the name means something. It does sounds kind of familiar.
"Like, Istanbul?" Eddie says. "Constantinople?"
"It was never called those in their history," Widari says, "but the same. It was renamed Duellona in 1160 After Transmigration, following its conquest by the Samnites. Over the next three millennia the city would grow into a metropolis of twenty million. In 4179, one year before the Atomic War, a science experiment left the city enveloped in dimensional fog, inaccessible to the outside world. Though records are incomplete, it is theorized the event exacerbated tensions between the Ereben Empire and Aravias Alliance.
"But this decoupling from reality spared Duellona, for the atomic missiles could not touch it. Since that time, there have been seven expeditions into the Fog, with only two returning. The first being Captain Meero D'Mirsky's voyage of Third Age Three-and-Forty-Six, and the second being ours, of Third Age Seven-and-Fifteen.
"At the time we were confident of our success, for did we not have a World-Jumper? Did we not implement Esha's improvements upon D'Mirsky's Vendi-derived runes? On the fifty-seventh day, after three days over desert and sea, we reached the white smoky dome shrouding Duellona.
"Gerbern ordered the engines at maximum power, and he took his station at the bridge witchboard, where Esha and myself assisted him. He conducted the dimensional synergy, his hands upon the carves runes. The Humperdinck, with the Pfeil close on our starboard, flew into the Fog.
"Eddie says you experienced Fog around Gerbern's house." Widari wiggles a tentacle at the hexagon window. "Imagine the disconcertion upon seeing that same featureless white outside our ship, stretching to the infinite. In such a state, distance, proportion and velocity have no meaning, for no longer were we on the Ring but instead were journeying through inter-dimensional space.
"But we had prepared for this. Gerbern's trait and Esha's runes allowed us to navigate the void without incident. That is, until we encountered the Basilisk.
"We should have known; we were warned. D'Mirsky's memoirs mention the Basilisk, but in his account he marched onto the deck of his frigate and challenged the spectral serpent to a game of Rin, wagering the lives of himself and his crew for safe passage through the Fog. He also claims that upon defeating the Basilisk, it transformed into a sexually desirable female, with whom he copulated.
"D'Mirsky had been known to embellish, even fabricate events, and we assumed this episode was one such example. But the Basilisk was real, and in our instance, uncommunicative, offering no opportunity to play Swannish board games. It attacked without warning, rending our hull with arcane claws. Targeting the serpent was difficult because of its translucent nature, and even when our shells struck they only passed through its immaterial body. As we would later learn, the creature was a tulpa conjured by the Echo of a Delsan sorcerer, and only by learning its True Name could we dispel it. For now, though, we were helpless under its merciless assault.
"The Pfeil exploded, probably because of a ruptured boiler. As its burning wreckage tumbled in the Fog, I felt for the first time mortal fear, its icy grip seizing my hearts. At that moment, I cursed my foolish youth and my thirst for illumination. I should have followed my family's urging! I should have stayed with my clan, working for its advantage, as is the duty of all of my race!
"Our turrets fired one final, futile salvo before the Basilisk's tail slashed deep into the Humperdinck's underside, puncturing two of our three lifters. Steaming unnomo scalded five sailors, two of whom would succumb hours later. Three others fell through the breech, disappearing into Fog. Our ship plummeted, spinning as it accelerated through nothing. Gripping my seat on the bridge, centrifugal force tugging me towards the starboard bulkhead, I wondered through my terror whether we would descend forever, our vessel functioning as an eternally-careening mausoleum lost between worlds.
"But after an indeterminate time, we emerged from the Fog, and saw through the bridge window the wondrous and ruinous glassy towers of Duellona. The cityscape swirled as we spun, and I admit I and others screamed as we raced headlong into a cluster of skyscrapers. Were we to reach our long-sought destination, only to perish like a meteor?
"Fortunately, our helmsman, the skilled Father Hatha, righted the Humperdinck in time and guided us along a street between the buildings. Our remaining lifter reduced the velocity of our descent, allowing a controlled crash. The ship shook violently as we slid down the pavement. My teeth chattered. Centuries-abandoned road vehicles bounced off our bow. Finally, after plowing a five hundred meter trench, we shuddered to a halt.
"Battered and stunned, we climbed from the Humperdinck's wreck. Majestic ruins of glass and steel towered above us, many structures taller than the tallest of Sologoth today. We marveled at this alien world, knowing we would remain here for an extended duration, for along with the hull breeches and punctured lifters, two of our four engines required extensive repairs, one having been ripped from its mooring during impact.
"Gerbern was unprepared for the severity of our circumstances, but he shouldered his duty and led us forth. To account for our adventures during these one hundred ninety-four days would consume many hours, but I will offer brief summary. In general, though, Duellona is an acausal city; spacetime proceeds in strange eddies.
"One night, the cloudy sky may part to reveal two moons among unfamiliar stars; one morning, the sun may blaze red and swollen in an orange sky. One may walk a street of decayed rubble only to find the buildings rejuvenated the following week. Locations migrate with the coming of Fog. Days repeat. D'Mirsky described Duellona aptly when he called it the 'City of Dreams and Madness.'
"We scouted methodically, finding the streets largely abandoned. What denizens we encountered appeared alive and sapient, but the longer we interacted with them, the more obvious their deficiency. I believe they enjoyed subjective experience no differently from you and I, but were they people? What is identity without memory and continuity?
"While they seemed aware that calamity had struck Duellona, none could describe its nature nor how long ago it occurred. And, most unfortunate, no rapport with them could last more than several days. I pitied them, for they lived addled lives on looped tracks, straying from their paths only by our influence and yet always in the end forgetting us entirely, resetting once again into their temporal patterns.
"On the fourth day, our explorations of the subways led us to a clan of gorhorey, or as you would call them, 'trolls.' They are an archaic ancestor of my race, larger, more violent and lacking our intelligence. In the dark tunnels they charged us with crude metal weapons, but we defeated them through a combination of magnesium torches and firearms. This was my first gun battle, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Regrettably, though, we lost two of our number.
"On the sixth day, while surveying the dockyards, we made contact with a party of Sea Devils. We communicated via writing and gnosis, for neither of us could speak the others' tongue. We would learn they were immune to the city's torpor, for, like us, they were outsiders, explorers even, their home an aquatic dimension accessible only kilometers out under the Proconnesus Sea.
"We arrived at an arrangement in which they would assist us in repairing the Humperdinck in exchange for our runecraft. Their race suffers a negative reputation, which is undeserved. They honor contracts like civilized beings.
"One the ninth day, we discovered the Commune, a collection of decadents living in tents in a city park. They were artists and poets and mainly occupied their repetitious centuries with music and narcotics. It is here we met Captain Meero D'Misrky--an unexpected sight because of his death one hundred eighty-three years prior. He appeared just as he does in his portraits, with his dark, narrow Toloran features, his long, curling black hair, his red longcoat, his feathered red hat, and his jeweled cyro-cutlass. His runic-flintlocks he had exchanged for Ereben auto-loaders, and he also now wore tinted spectacles."
"Oskar described him as an 'imprint,'" Pookie says.
Widari nods, puffing his pipe. "Or Echo. We theorize the city remembers, and sometimes manifests, all who enter its domain. D'Mirsky was dimly aware he had been in the city a 'very long time,' but could not accurately account for its passage. Nor could he explain where his crew had gone, though some of their number occasionally appeared in the Commune. Over the next one hundred eighty-five days, the captain would disappear five times, only to reappear days later. Following each cycle, he would have no recollection of us.
"In this first iteration, D'Mirsky aided us against a local youth gang known as the Scorpions. They were vandalic and violent, but not beyond reason. Through the captain's interceding, we avoided bloodshed. Additionally, on the thirteenth day, D'Mirsky showed us the location of the Immaculate Palace.
"It was an immense and pristine spire of glass and steel, so tall its top vanished in the overcast sky. D'Mirsky mentions it in his memoirs, but was unable to approach due to the skyscraper's robotic guardians. According to surviving records, the Immaculate Palace belonged to Protogonus Industries, a mighty corporation, and while details of their projects remain obscure, available evidence suggests they were responsible for Duellona's current state.
"We breached the glass doors and expended Black Stiletto rounds to dispatch the security robots. A particularly large and durable quadruped required an Atomic Wrath shell, though the resulting wreckage melted through into skyscraper's basement levels. We won the battle at the cost of seven of our number, including Captain Xarius.
"It was a price worth paying. Illumination requires sacrifice. And so we explored the spire, collecting not only artifacts--including Samael--but reading records paper and electronic. And we discovered the Great Elevator. After examining its machinery and judging it safe, eleven of us entered the spacious car and pressed the glass button.
"The slow, smooth descent took many hours, until finally we emerged into a tunnel network of pure crystal. We deduced these caverns were not a natural formation but instead grown by design. In a nearby campsite Protogonus left many research notes, and upon examining them the truth dawned that our place in this facility, at this time, was but a distant epilogue to an aeons old tale.
"When the Venda-Ka lands transmigrated onto the Ring, the lands they materialized over had not always been uninhabited. There was an elder civilization, one which extinguished one-point-six million years ago. Though they are called Precursors, who they were is unknown, and with the transmigration, the majority of their archaeological record was annihilated. But not all.
"We know they were highly advanced, far more so than the Vendi. They also had uncovered a strange truth, one which required a subterranean laboratory constructed so deep as to touch the Ring's adamant, which is its indestructible hull. There the facility remained, unperturbed by neither the fall of their civilization nor the transmigration of the Venda-Ka lands, until, approximately five hundred ninety years ago, when Protogonus' psionic-machines sensed its long-hidden presence far beneath Duellona.
"And so Protogonus built the Immaculate Palace, and in its basement they drilled a shaft twenty-seven kilometres to the ancient laboratory. After years of studying its crystal computers, they discovered that the Precursors learned how to communicate with the Ring. This alone is remarkable but not the most pertinent fact. Instead: What did the Ring have to say?
"I surmise Mr. Kuckenbacher has told you of the Diamond Throne, and how Esha, in her quest for knowledge, placed the World Stone circlet upon her head, therefore instigating the transmigration of the Earth from which we have departed. I will come to that later. For now, there was the truth we uncovered, the illumination I received.
"Do you believe in God?"
The question gives you whiplash. Silence stretches. You've put away your pipe, though the weed paints colorful patterns in the forked lightning and swirling storm. Through the dark clouds a horizon peeks. Land.
"No," Eddie says. "Not anymore than a big fish is a god to a little fish."
"There's got to be a Higher Power," Bobbi says.
"I think there's lots of gods," Maribel says. "Like Zeus and Thor and Jesus and Nodens. And Cuh-too-loo too, but he's a bad god."
"A few days ago I would have said I'm agnostic," Pookie says. "I . . . guess I still am?"
You shrug. "I'm with Pookie. I dunno."
Widari blows a smoke ring. "In my first five decades I believed in the god of my race, Hokrum, who reigns over all elements from the Molten Dimension, judging our actions and conjuring miracles at opportune occasions. But upon reaching adulthood, I abandoned this anthropomorphic view, for not only does the idea carry an air of primitive projection, it lacks explanatory value.
"Consider compassion, intelligence, justice, wisdom . . . . These concepts are constructed into Hokrum's being, but by what principles are they assembled? In analysis, concepts come before being just as bricks come before a house. A personal God is no difference, and so, regardless of power, it is only an aggregate of components and therefore cannot be the foundation of reality--cannot be the Absolute.
"Instead I favored God as process, as the act of becoming. Dholron's Cupboard, or as you call it, Plato's Realm, stores potentiality, and it is through the Lathe of Heaven, crafting moment by moment, that potential becomes actual. God is the inward flame which compels causality. From subatomic events to conscious action, God is all the myriad decisions which forge our world.
"This is what I believed, and the core reason I joined the expedition. I wished to peer into the Cupboard, to not only speculate but know the nature of things. Why is there something instead of nothing? Why is reality this way and not that? Tama was correct when he said these questions are trite, but, like him, I desired an answer.
"And so, deciphering the Vendi's notes and their translations of the Precursors' archives, I found my answer. But it was a terrible, devastating answer. An answer which answered nothing."
"You discovered this is a simulation," Eddie says in a hollow, haunted tone. He waves a hand in the darkness. "All this is a simulation, right?"
"Is it?" Widari says with a chuckle. "You seem to think so, but there is distinction between speculation and knowledge. Even after receiving my answer, I sequestered doubts until seventeen years ago, when I engaged in the Ritual. Only then did I resign to the truth. But I have told too much. I will say no more. We arrive at Sologoth."
Far ahead in the storm the dark clouds curl back to reveal a shining seaside city stretching from the shore to the horizon. Dozens of skyscrapers, a hundred or more, star the night with a million windows that shimmer in the pouring rain. Neon signs blaze neon colors while rows of hovercraft sail over the skyline in white Christmas light lanes.
Maribel bounces from her sofa. "It's Cyberpunk City!"
The Sweet Pea slows over the water, dropping altitude to the skyscrapers' tippy-tops. Six stubby-winged jet fighters zip towards you over the city and across the harbor. They swerve around to fly alongside the ship.
You and Bobbi rise from the love seat and wander forward, Burt, Eddie and Maribel behind you. You press your palms to the cold glass, your eyes wide as you absorb the city life. You've been to New York, but you and Pookie were only four, your memories only blurred imaginings of crowded streets and impossible towers. Other than that, the biggest city you've been to is Houston, and Houston can't compare.
Like a ginormous parade balloon, the Sweet Pea floats into Sologoth's downtown, drifting lazily between wedding-cake skyscrapers while the fighter jets zip around like minnows guiding a great whale. A fat fridge of a building has projected on its side a film of a mocha-skinned elf girl prancing nude on a beach: the priestess from Xelanno. The camera zooms as she clenches a long cigarillo in her perfect teeth, and she winks at the camera as she holds up the pack. Another tower nearby has on its top a rotating neon sign of a smiling three-eyed dwarf puffing a Popeye pipe. The logo's the same as on the ammo boxes for your elvish carbine and the three-barreled shotgun.
In a patch of city far to the left, across a glistening river stitched with bridges, skyscrapers give way to medieval castles and domed temples, and a stone fortress shaped like a ninja star. Miles to your right, over another river, past suburbs and along low hills, barely-seen factories with tall chimneys belch smoke into the storm clouds above. Straight ahead of you, in the distance, the city flattens to concrete fields with control towers and hanger huts.
The Sweet Pea veers slowly to face a skyscraper shaped like a skinny Aztec pyramid that, while not the tallest in the city, is taller than most. You recognize it from a photo in Tama's biography, but it's changed a lot since the 1920's. In that picture the building had a classy grace; now it looks tacky, the modern clashing with the old. Giant red and green hexagons sizzle on its sides like neon tattoos, and at least a dozen floors have been knocked out to make room for two different greenhouses, their paned windows, cluttered with forests, bulging outward like love-handles. High up on the spire, right above an out-of-place radio dish, a fifty foot gold statue of a naked man raises an electric torch at the sky. You can't make out the face, but no prize for guessing who it is.
"Majestic, is it not?" resonates a voice behind you. You all turn in the dim light. Tama drapes a tired arm across Valree's shoulders; she cuddles into him, the fox Nee-nee bundled to her chest. On the billionaire's other side stands K'Leto's mom, cool and professional in her Asiany silk dress. Behind her hangs the metalmancer Vek, who looks as if she just woke up with her rumpled tee, pajama bottoms and bedhead crew cut. By the doorway lurk two gas-mask goons, their assault carbines down but ready.
Valree kisses Nee-nee, giggles, and for a split second meets your stare with pupils as big as quarters, the hazel only halos around black. Tama watches his tower with gaping pit eyes as dark as space. Sweat shines on his face. He sniffles, rubs his nose and says, "Your feminist author Margaret Fuller once wrote, 'A house is no home unless it contain food and fire for the mind as well as for the body.' And I promise you my house has ample of both! Indeed, a wondrous cornucopia of luxury awaits behind those walls. I bid you welcome."
"Um, thank you," Pookie says.
The Sweet Pea floats towards a top levels of the tower, zeroing on a steel hexagon door. Around the doorway unfolds an accordion tube, stretching slowly from the building as the ship aligns it with the room's hexagon window. The distance closes inch by inch until the accordion presses into the window, and mechanical clacks echo as the frames lock into place. Air hisses; the glass hexagon slides up, inviting you down a metal walkway through the thirty foot tunnel to the steel hexagon door on the far side.
"Cool," Eddie says.
Widari hops from egg-chair and joins Tama's group as the billionaire leads the way across the dark accordion-tunnel-airlock-thing. The rest of you follow, the gas mask goons behind you. The walkway creaks under everyone's weight, but Vek waves a tiny hand, calming the metal.
The steel door swishes open, and the billionaire swaggers into a large, bright room, his arms outstretched like a rock star greeting adoring fans. Two rows of Vendi men in white body armor and helmets stand to attention, WWII-ish sub-machine guns in their hands. Their officer waits to the side, a fiftyish cappuccino-skinned guy with ribbons on his armor and the hexagon logo on his baseball cap.
The officer clenches his granite jaw, his narrow eyes staring straight ahead. "Welcome back sir," he says in Swannish. It's weird how your ears hear, 'meow-yeow-pow-tow' but your brain makes it English.
"Greetings, Cletus," Tama says, also in Swannish. "Just as Prince Narrocles journeyed the Golden Sea to Xaxas to retrieve the Karak's Cache, so to do I return from distant lands with treasures both marvelous and revolutionary!"
"Yes, sir."
"The stars slide. The Ring spins. Night gives birth to dawn! Upon the fruition of my plan, I, Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas, shall banish all evils for all time! No longer will children cry out in the dark! No longer will innocent suffer wars and famine and pestilence! Even death, that cold sister of sleep, shall lose her sting, for my Utopia shall reign eternal!"
"As you say, sir."
Tama chuckles as if at a private joke, and even K'Leto's mom snickers. He claps Cletus' shoulder and says, "Still think I'm mad, do you?. No, do not deny it! I forgive your ignorance. For just as beasts of the field comprehend not the workings of men, so to do simple, stalwart men comprehend not the machinations of my mind! But soon you will see the truth of my vision, for the End of History is nigh."
"Very good, sir."
"But in order for all this to come to pass, my treasures must be protected. Has security been upgraded?"
Cletus relaxes a millimetre. "Yes sir. Completed this evening. Two platoons of Heavies transferred from Gonobree and Zapaport, and we've contracted thirty-two sniper teams from Shadrook and Nwabudike."
"Excellent! Operate them in thirds. And show my guests to their quarters."
Cletus leads you all out of the room and into a 1930's elevator with shiny brass walls. You crowd into the car, and he takes you down a few floors. Silence drags until the doors ding and roll open.
"So you think he's crazy too?" Bobbi asks.
"He's not crazy," Eddie says.
Cletus wags his head. "He pays me well," he says in mushy English. "He treats me well."
Your quarters on the Sweet Pea were luxurious 70's-style hotel rooms; the ones in the Tower are luxurious 70's-style apartments, each with a kitchen, a dining room, a living room with a stereo and big-screen TV ('big' being like 16 inches), and a hexagon-shaped Jacuzzi. The 54th floor view shows off Sologoth in all its cyberpunk coolness, skyscrapers overlapping skyscrapers all the way back to a glittering Tetris skyline. As gilded cages go, this one's pretty posh. Free room service too.
Two days pass. The Tower itself has everything the Sweet Pea has but more and bigger. There's boring office floors you're not allowed onto, but also there's a roller rink, an ice rink, a swimming pool, a library, a greenhouse, an art gallery, two night clubs (one disco, the other jazzy) and, on the ground floor, a kind of mall with four department stores and a bunch of boutiques. Out of these, only the mall remains open to the public; the rest is closed for 'security.'
This isn't really a bad thing. You all get everything to yourselves, including the greenhouse. It's a slice of forest paradise on the 31st floor, with soft shaggy grass, blue-berried bushes and gnarly, floppy-leafed trees that slant up at crooked angles, their twisty limbs stretching seventy feet to the sky-painted ceiling where bright halogens shine like the sun. Support beams are disguised as yard-wide tree trunks, the elevator shafts as a rocky cliffside. Along the windows runs a white marble sidewalk with steps leading up to multi-tiered balconies overflowing with jungle vines and weird candy-colored orchids of every shape and size.
High between branches flap green scaly bat-dragons that dive down to munch on the blueberries. They're friendly little guys who eat right out of your palm. Same with the miniature rabbit-kangaroos that hop out of burrows, though they like these cashew-things. In a small corner pond live a family of swans: a mommy, a daddy and a bunch of gray-feathered babies. They gobble up the apples and potatoes you throw in the water, but the parents get hissy if you try to pet them or pick up the babies. You also steer clear of the purple bumblebees, but so far they leave you alone if you leave them alone.
Maribel loves the greenhouse, and so do you. It's a nice place to ride your skateboard. Alan Turing says it was built a year or so back, along with a smaller, private garden under Tama's five-story penthouse (which only Pookie and Eddie have seen). Apparently Valree is a country girl from a small Verveenian town, and she missed her nature walks. So Tama gutted thirteen floors and spent millions on remodeling, just to make her smile. Which is kind of sweet, you guess.
You see her once in the greenhouse but keep your distance, smoking a bowl and watching from the bushes as she walks Nee-nee, then feeds the swans. Her red halter shows off a tight tan tummy; her green silk bell-bottoms hugs her butt real nice. You don't go near her. Not because you're shy, but . . . well, so far your only interaction with her was when you first met, when you shoved her and called her a bitch. But then, she called Maribel a bitch first. Okay, so your sister blew dirt on her, but Valree was getting too close with that stupid camera.
Still, maybe you should make nice. She has weed, and you're burning through your stash faster than expected. Or maybe you should lay off the pipe a little? Bobbi's been nagging you, and yesterday K'Leto few off the handle when you showed up to fencing practice high. Blah-blah-blah no discipline! Blah-blah-blah bourgeois degenerate!
Not that you'll have to deal with K'Leto much longer. In a few days she's going back to D'shalsky, which is some rich kid academy in rural Toloran. She's Vice President of the Student Council and says she has 'important work.' Like what? Organize pep rallies? Bake sales? Weird, she doesn't look like a nerd.
But maybe you should have played your cards differently, because you're pretty sure she's sneaking out at night. She mentions 'going for a ride,' and later disappears. She could be hiding in her room or somewhere else in the Tower, but you don't think so. Unfortunately, she doesn't invite you along.
Not that you could go if she did. To keep you from 'getting lost,' Tama has one or two security guys following you all at all times. There's also guards watching the elevators and stairwells, and out on every corner of the big balconies (the Tower's pyramid-steps, which you're not allowed on) two-man teams squat with scoped rifles and binoculars, watching the city for threats. In short, you're not escaping on your own, and anyone rescuing you has their work cut out for them.
But it's not too bad. Aside from the greenhouse, the gym and sometimes the shooting range, you spent a lot of time at the roller rink and swimming pool. And you and Bobbi love your Jacuzzi. She mellows out, after a couple of nights. The steady supply of beer and cigarettes helps, though she's beginning to taste like an ashtray.
Honestly, you wouldn't mind living like this forever, but it isn't going to last. Things are going to happen. Tama plans to do the 'Ritual' in three days, and weird-ass Eddie's looking forward to it. And Tama's also talking with Pookie and Dr. Herrica about experimental cancer treatments. Maybe soon you'll get to meet Aunt Esha?
And then there's the big foggy elephant in the Tower: the Duellona Expedition. Tama wants to go yesterday but has preparations to make. Right now, the Sweet Pea is at Sologoth Airport, undergoing maintenance and upgrades, which you're told includes new weapon systems. You know, in case they run into a giant tulpa dragon or whatever.
You really don't want to go to Duellona, and soon you'll have decisions to make. But until then, you might as well enjoy yourself.
On the third night, you and Maribel go shopping. Tama only lets you go after hours, so the two of your are alone except for your security and a handful of employees who stayed late. Aside from the tacky 70's color scheme, the Tower's department stores aren't too different from any Dillard's or JC Penny, with clothes, jewelry, furniture, decor, electronics . . . . and you have ♕5,000 burning a hole in your checkbook.
Maribel picks out jeans, t-shirts and sunglasses, and also gem-encrusted rings and bracelets, which she says she can pump up with magic, 'like baby heartstones.' You try on a few floral crop-tops and corduroy bellbottoms, then head off to the music section. You impulse-buy a badass drum set, then look over the shelves of VHS-8-tracks. The Swans have a sorta '60's rock' genre that you've kind of gotten to like.
Beyond the windows run mostly-empty five-lane streets where vehicles cruise by. The cars are curvy, retro things, the mixed-babies of big-finned 50's and Volkswagen bugs. Across the road a department store display shows off mannequins in fancy Asiany dresses like K'Leto's mom wears. You can't shop there. You can't even step on the sidewalk.
Security, of course, stalks you like a shadow. Even though the windows are bulletproof and have roll-down shutters, this is the ground floor. Tama takes no chances. Aside from two of his elite 'Corporate Guard' gas-mask goons (looking like robot bulldogs, hulking as hell in tacticool armor) and Metalmancer Vek (snazzy in her gray and gold Power Ranger getup), there's eight guys with sub-machine guns patrolling the lobby, and a dozen more hidden away watching the cameras. And if anything does happen, gas-mask goon Captain Felix Alexandros assures you twenty reinforcements are ready to swarm the place in under a minute. And then there's the snipers on the outside balconies. And the 42nd floor hanger with its combat Cicadas and hoverbikes. And the fact that D'vaugnas Tower has over two hundred men with guns and ten wizards who's job it is to make sure nothing happens to you.
Doesn't that make you feel safe?
You and Maribel are in sporting goods, sitting on a bench tying on roller-blades, when Vek and the goons freeze, heads cocked as if listening.
"Received. Will do," Felix says in his electronic froggy voice. One of Vek's metal golems--just a five foot tall armored sheet on tires--tears down an aisle and squeals to a stop between you and the windows. You and Maribel get up, your wheeled feet coasting you across the carpet.
"What's going on?" Your heart races more from excitement than fear.
"Get down!" Felix snaps. The other goon, Sergeant Horus Longinus, lays big gloved hands on you and Maribel and ducks you behind the golem.
"What the fuck?" You struggle in his grip, your roller-blades sliding. In the distance, engines whine, sirens blare. Horus lets go, and the two goons train their assault carbines on the windows. Vek levitates to the side, her narrow, copper-tone face clenched beneath her iron-gray visor. A pouch opens on her back and twenty knitting needles file out and hover above her head. The razor sharp tips aim at the street outside.
"I want to see!" Maribel says. You both peek around the shield as five or six blue motorcycles zoom past the windows. Not fifty feet away, you can make out the fair-haired, pale-skinned elf riders decked out in shades of cobalt, turquoise, navy, and aquamarine. On the back of the rear bike, a tatted-up blonde mohawk girl in bluejeans and bikini top waves an arm behind her as steamy fog jets from her palm and floods the street.
The motorcycles ride out of view just as three orange, beefed-up-Herbie-mobiles roar by with sirens screaming and roof-lights spinning. The cars swerve in the pea soup, but continue the chase. The sounds fade; the street clears.
"Sec-Three secure. Out," Felix says. He and Horus lower their guns. Vek's darts return to her quiver, and her boots touch down.
Maribel jumps, her roller-blades floating above the floor. "That was so cool!"
"Damned Korgis!" Horus says, his robot voice a bass to Alex's baritone.
You sputter. Maribel giggles out, "Corgis?"
"Korigans," Felix says. "Their gangs are a real nuisance."
"Those were Castdowners," Vek says. "Not so bad."
Felix scoffs, the sound like a walkie-talkie click. "Police need to root them out . . . but I suppose I'll take them over rioters."
You roll in a circle, testing the wheels. "Tama mentioned those," you say. "'Leto too. Except she says they're protesters."
Horus and Vek laugh--the goon like a coughing Darth Vader, the elf like a wicked child. "You could say that," Felix says. "Protesters who burn and loot and beat people in the streets."
"Not that they do it here," Horus says. "Not anymore."
"They tried once." Felix points out the windows. "Thousands of them, waving banners, howling for Mr. D'vaugnas' blood. You'd think he was running for Doge again. But we held off until the bricks began to fly, then we gave them gas and rubber. Now they prefer soft targets. Small businesses. Low-income areas."
Horus chuckles. "Burn down their own ghettos. The Roggs are behind this, you know. Slipping coins in Unionist pockets. Got the immigrants dancing to their flute." ("Not all of them," Vek interrupts.) "Not to mention all those kids without a drop of sense in their brains."
"Tell me about it," Felix says. "Last tenday my nephew was lecturing me on how we Vendi are 'exploited' and need to 'tear off the shackles of our oppressors.' A full scholarship to Athena, and this is what they're teaching him? Breaks my heart."
"Funny," Vek says. "University kids, rich kids--Swanborn and getting led by the nose. But Korgs? Live in slums; everyone shits on them. And you heard what they did when the rioters got into Little Kaien? The Castdowners, the Fahas, the Ketts . . . all teamed up and beat the teeth out of them."
"I'll say this for Korgis," Horus says, "they ain't kin to commies."
"Small wonder why," Felix says. He turns, his bulging goggle eyes aimed at Vek. "I heard they broke bread with Tolos Nation."
Horus huffs. "That's a marriage made in hell."
"Tolos doesn't like foreigners," Vek says, "but we hate commies."
"Enemy of my enemy?" Felix asks.
"Very," Vek says. Her small mouth opens, hesitating. "I shouldn't say this. I just found out a couple days ago. But . . . my cousin was at Solovona Square."
Both goons stiffen, their bulldog masks gaping at her. Maribel's eyes widen. You break out in goosebumps, but you don't know why.
"You mean . . . ?" Felix asks.
"He was in the backseat." Vek's tiny gloved hands shoot finger-guns. "Boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!"
"Daughter Xoph!" Felix exclaims.
You're scared to ask, but: "What happened at Solovona Square?"
"What happened was commies got what they deserved!" Horus says.
To you Felix says, "I suppose you don't watch the news. It was a drive-by at a riot. Happened while we were in flight. Seven or eight dead."
"Nine dead," Vek says, raising her pointy chin proudly, "fifty-something wounded. But it wasn't just Tolos. Ketts were in the second car. We're fighting the same war."
Felix grunts, his mask glancing you and Maribel's way. "You're right. You shouldn't be saying this."
Vek leans against her steel golem. Her contented sneer bares little white teeth. "Tolos has people in the police; most are on our side anyway. They'll botch the investigation. Maybe frame some Unionists."
You nod stupidly, unsure what to say. Maribel hugs her arms, sinking inward. Bobbi would lay into these goons, especially Vek: "Your cousin is a mass-shooter, huh? And you're proud of that? Well, you're an asshole!" But what would be the point? Anyway, it's never a good idea to piss off guys with guns--or a wizard with Magneto powers.
Finally, you settle on: "This city . . . sounds kind of rough."
Maribel latches onto this. "Yeah. I don't want to go outside anymore."
"City's a pool of petrol," Felix says, "but I wouldn't worry. Mr. D'Vaugnas isn't going to let you out on the street."
Vek fixes you with a gaze, you and Maribel's faces reflected in her cold, polished visor. "And even if he does," the metalmancer says, "we're here to protect you."
You buy your loot (and write checks for the first time) and carry it in overflowing paper sacks (except for the drum set, which an employee promises to deliver tomorrow morning). Vek and the goons pass you and Maribel off to a pair of elf guard flunkies with pistols. Your sister waits until the two of you are several feet ahead of them.
"I don't like Vek," she whispers. "Or the stormtroopers."
"Me neither," you say.
"Sergeant Horrors reminds me of Uncle Stewart."
You snicker. "Yeah, I can see that." Your uncle was like an even more right-wing version of your dad. He even used to make your dad real angry with those 'Obama-is-a-monkey' Facebook posts. He did tone it down around Maribel, but it still bled through.
Still, you kind of don't want to judge these assholes too harshly. This isn't your world; you haven't even been outside. How do you know the protesters are any better?
Maribel decides to skate around the greenhouse and fly with the bat-dragons. You want to meet up with Bobbi, but you'd hate to ride up fifty-three floors only to find she's not in the suite.
~Hey Pookie, you know where Bobbi is?
A yellowed page of Russiany-looking Swan text appears in your mind. The scenes slides to walls of looming bookcases as Pookie looks up from his chair. You will the images away, giving your twin back his privacy. There's a lot of times you wouldn't want him watching through your eyes.
~I think she's with Ayama. They mentioned going to the computer lab.
~Okay, thanks!
Maribel rides an elevator to the 31st floor; you ride one down to sub-basement 6. The Cyclops takes up sub-basements 7-13, but you're not allowed there. There's a picture of the A.I. on the cover of Tama's book: a great streamlined bulk, shaped like a 1940's locomotive, with a single red eye in the middle and lightning arcing between its antennae. It looks like an evil supercomputer god, but Alan says it's actually pretty friendly, though it speaks in a creepy machine monotone.
If you push for it, maybe you can visit Cyclops one day, but until then it's just the Computer Lab for you. Which sucks. The Grid is a sorta-internet, but it's really boring, with no Youtube or tumblr or Instagram. As far as you can tell, it's just nerds typing codes at each other.
The elevator doors open, and you walk down a white, fluorescent-lit hallway, your elf-guard following behind. He waits outside as you enter through the open doors. A soupy ozone heat hits you, even though overhead ACs blow full-blast up and down the huge supermarket-size lab. The white whirring of fans mixes with the heavy electric hum of the rows and rows of looming computer banks with their thousands of blinking lights and spinning tape spools.
Bobbi and Ayama sit in the center with their backs to you, huddled around one of the old-timey terminals.
"Hey, Bobbi. Did some retail therapy." You lift the bags and spin, modeling your crop-top and disco pants.
They turn in their plastic Jetson-chairs. "Looking sexy, Babe," Bobbi says and waves you over with her beer. "You got to see this!" A half-burnt cigarette dangles on her lips. She's gotten out of the habit of wearing her leather jacket, and now just has on a pair jeans and a damp wife-beater that shows off her muscular, inked-up arms (and huggable love-handles). The pompadour has long gone to seed, and in this sweltering room her black hair hangs as a wet mop, her bangs drooping down her forehead.
Ayama greets you with a 'what's up?' eyebrow shrug, her dark eyes shining below the red sweatband that makes a mushroom of her Afro. She's pretty in a tight, lanky way, her tank top and shorts clinging to a sprinter's body with muscles like cables running under her black skin. Bobbi sure spends a lot of time with her.
"What you guys up to?" You pull up a chair, wedging yourself between them and giving Bobbi a quick sweaty kiss (and catching a mouthful of Lucky Strike breath). The terminal is a clunky keyboard and monitor setup that reminds you of your grandpa's ancient 80's Apple. Green text commands read up and down the screen (Swannish goes up to down, not left to right). You can understand the Russiany-looking letters and numbers, but half of it's gibberish.
"Pat's here," Bobbi whispers over the ambient noise.
You stupidly look around the lab. You keep your voice low. "You mean like--?"
"In the city," Bobbi adds. "Just flew in this afternoon."
Ayama motions at the screen. "The Whirligig's at the airport--"
"Whirli-what?"
"Pat's cutter," Ayama says. "She's logged as the Rocinante, but I have a source in Customs--a fellow Separatist--who's been in the hanger. Paint's different, but he swears it's her. No other ship has those custom jet pods."
"Okay," you say. "We knew she'd come by sooner or later. Tama said so himself."
"But why would she repaint her ship?" Bobbi asks you. "And that's not all."
Ayama's slender fingers make clackity-clack sounds on the keyboard. Swannish text messages scroll on the screen. "I have another source in Archives. An agent of the People's Hidden Army. She spotted Pat and Colonel Grung at the Hall of Records. Grung was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and Pat a wig and makeup to look Vendi--"
You sputter. "She was wearing blackface?"
Bobbi clenches her cigarette in a cringed grin. Ayama goes blank at the reference, but then laughs. "Obviously it wasn't a very good disguise. But the interesting thing is what they were there for. My source saw them with maps of Sologoth Underground."
"Is that like, London Underground?" you ask.
"But older," Ayama says, "and deeper. Our subways date back two centuries, but there's also the Second Age Catacombs, and before that the sewers built by the Meeros. And way down there's the really old tunnels, Swatic crypt stuff from thousands of years ago."
"We think 'Leto uses the Underground to sneak out of the Tower," Bobbi says.
"It fits," Ayama says. "These basements descend far. If 'Leto found a breech in one of these walls, it might lead to somewhere."
Bobbi swigs her beer. "And if 'Leto can sneak out . . ."
". . . then Pat can sneak in," you finish. A worm wiggles in you; heat and ozone stir to nausea. Isn't this what you wanted?
"And there's more," Bobbi says. "Professor Poseidon was spotted in Fish Town."
Ayama scrolls to new text. "I have a source there, a member of the Worker's Liberation Vanguard. She says the Professor was slumming in a tavern by the sewage treatment plant. He'd dyed his scales blue and was wearing an old sunhat and collar-coat, but she worked by his side a few years back, during the Mu Incursion. It was him."
"And this is the clincher," Bobbi says.
A white grin splits Ayama's dark face. "He was asking about the next protest," she says. "When was it going to be? Where? Who was going to do what? No one told him anything, of course, but the Professor might be the most powerful gnostic in a million mile radius. Makes Ms. Galanaba look monkey-brained. Whoever he asks will think of the answer, and for him they may as well blurt it out."
"So let's put it together," Bobbi says. "Pat and her gang are in town--incognito. They're looking at maps of Underground. And they're asking about the next protest."
The pieces lock together. "She's going to spring us during a riot!"
"Protest," Ayama corrects. "But that's what I'd guess too. At least your brother, anyway. He's the World-Jumper."
You try to picture it: an iconic 1930's pulp heroine, a Vendi commando, a fish hydromancer, Nicky Tesla's tech-wizard son, and a teenage elf paladin . . . all storming D'vaugnas Tower like it's the Death Star and Eddie's Princess Leia.
You wince. "Yeah . . . Eddie's kind of on Team Tama."
Ayama's eyes narrow, her mouth twisting thoughtfully. "There's a protest in three days."
Bobbi lights another cigarette. She tugs your elbow. "We need to talk. Oh, and 'Yama, we'd appreciate it if you kept this under your hat."
"Under my hat?"
"Figure of speech. Means keep a secret."
"Secret?" She gestures at the monitor. "All I've been teaching you is basic operating commands."
Bobbi pats her shoulder. "You're a good woman."
The hallway is a refrigerator after the sauna of the lab. Your guard is nowhere in sight--probably hanging out by the elevators and stairs. Bobbi leads you along, your hands taken up with shopping bags.
"We need to tell the others," she breathes in your ear..
But the worm wiggles again. "Bobbi, I don't know . . . ." You jerk your chin at the bathroom, and the two of your push inside.
It's gleaming, antiseptic and empty. The AC is a feeble sigh--not loud enough--so you dig out your phone and type furiously, your tongue pressed in the corner of your mouth: Maybe we should like lay off telling the others? Or maybe not? Idk. But I mean Eddie is not going to want to be rescued. So if we tell him he is just going to tell Tama. And then what?
Bobbi whips out her own phone. Blunt nail-bitten thumbs beat across her screen: you think eddie will snitch on pat?
If Pat is going to kidnap him? Yes! And then Tama will ambush Pat when she sneaks in and might get her killed. And what about Yama? Tama will look into how she found out and he will learn she uses his computers to chat with commies. And Tama hates commies and so do his employees.
You type out a quick rundown on what happened while you were shopping. Bobbi glares at your text, sucking her Lucky to the filter. She spits it out, and her boot stomps it into the spotless linoleum. Her nostrils blow twin funnels of smoke. fucking fascists! yamas revolution needs to win and beat these assholes into the pavement!
You frown. Aside from LGBT-stuff you never pay much attention to politics. But like communism? Like Russians and China and Cuba? And I think the Dragons were commies too. And there was those guys who put the Korgis in camps.
Bobbi gives a lopsided smirk. yama will talk your ear off on this. the dragons were fascists basically elf-nazis. not commies. and assal was just a third world dictatorship with a hammer n sickle hat. swans just paint them all with the commie brush. and yama will tell you even the roggu arent real commies. i guess theyre like elf soviets.
Real communism hasnt been tried? I heard that before.
Bobbi sighs. look i dont agree with half of what yama believes. but the other side is twice as bad. i told you how shitty it is out there.
You nod. She has brought it up: starvation slave wages, homeless dying in the streets, hospitals harvesting poor people's organs. That sucks, you guess. And megacorps practically run the government, but wasn't that kind of true in your own world? Okay, it's a cyberpunk dystopia, but what are you supposed to do about it?
And there's too many corners to this. Too many blind alleys. What do you even want? Okay then if we tell Eddie he will tell Tama and we throw Pat and Yama under the bus. But! If we keep quite then Pat might actually 'rescue' Eddie. Do we want that? Do we *really* want that?
Bobbi sucks her teeth. i dont like hiding things and i dont like you having to hide things from your family. it aint right. but youre right about it hurting pat and yama. we need to keep quiet or maybe even have yamas sources contact pat so we can help plan it right. and eddie shouldnt be drinking tamas kool aid anyway. tamas a dangerous crazy creep bond villain with his fucking lovecraft ritual bullshit. pat stealing eddie will be for his own good.
You never liked 'for your own good' arguments. Maybe Eddie should make his own decisions? And what if she rescues him without us? We might never see him again! And what about Aunt Esha? And is Pat really going to be better? Is Tama really that bad? This is an important decision, Bobbi! We can't just hothead our way through it! We have to think it through. Make the right call.
Bobbi looks down, paces across the bathroom. Her fingers flex, and she flicks back greasy bangs. Finally, she faces you and cups your cheeks in calloused palms.
"We're in this together, Babe," she whispers.
You touch her wrists, stroking her muscular arms, and swallow, wishing you could shrug away this stupid burden. Do you ask Pookie? He'll be for telling Eddie, no matter what. Ask Maribel? She's Team Pat, but she likes Mage Tethys. What about K'Leto? What would she say?
And what about you? What do you want? Tama? You like the fat paychecks but miss your freedom, and you aren't a big fan of Lost Cities of Doom. Pat? Wormholes of Doom are just as bad, and you don't give a shit about Skeletor. Neither? Where would you go? What would you do?
So many decisions, so little time. You really could smoke a bowl right now, but even that's running out.
Bobbi's warm brown eyes probe into you, imploring. "What do we do?"
Once again, another novella of an update. I know I keep saying the next chapter won't be so long. One day it'll be true. I think I just underestimated the wordcount required for the two 'story times' (K'Jala's and Widari's) and introducing Sologoth and all it's plot hooks. The K'Jala story time was unlocked through the POV character taking Poke your Broca and investing 2 FP into Tama, K'Jala or K'Leto. Anyway, voting is open one month, ending on July 26th.
This will be a volatile vote, since the votes conceivably can go against the interest of another member of the group. Different party members want different things. I'm not sure how this will go down.
Party Skill Increases
Evidence Ayama uncovered suggests Patricia Savage and her crimefighting gang (Colonel Grung, Professor Poseidon, Nicky Junior and Dame Csenia) are planning a rescue/kidnapping of your group (or possible just Eddie) during a protest/riot planned three days from now. Eddie seems to be on Team Tama, and if you tell Eddie, he may tell Tama, which would endanger Pat and may cost Ayama her internship. And Pat may only rescue/kidnap Eddie, separating you from your brother. Currently, only you and Bobbi know of Pat's supposed plans. Do you:
[ ] Tell Eddie and the others, regardless of the consequences. You may not agree with what Eddie wants, but he should be able to make his own decisions.
[ ] Tell Eddie, but ask him not to tell Tama (this may not go over so well).
[ ] Tell no one. Let Pat try whatever she's going to do. You don't want to throw Pat and Ayama under the bus, and Eddie shouldn't be hanging out with a supervillain anyway. If she rescues him, it'll be for his own good.
[ ] Tell no one, and ask Ayama to use her sources to contact Pat. That way, you can help her plan the rescue from the inside. (Requires Roberta and/or Helen to purchase Ayama's Perk: A 5th Column is You).
[ ] Write in.
Sologoth is a city of political unrest and racial tension. Not that there's anything you can do about it, but do you have any thoughts or plans?
[ ] Bobbi is right. The system is corrupt and needs to be torn down. Viva la revolución!
[ ] You haven't even stepped outside. How do you know the other side is any better? Besides, not your world, not your problem.
[ ] Write in.
Eddie will do the Ritual (whatever that is) in three days. Do you want to do anything about this?
[ ] Write in.
K'Leto knows a way to sneak out of D'vaugnas Tower. Perhaps you can learn this from her? (Bear in mind K'Leto is going back to school in a few days).
[ ] Buddy up more to K'Leto (Requires K'Leto's Perk: Slipping the Leash).
[ ] No, not right now.
[ ] Write in.
Goosie will soon run out of marijuana. What do?
[ ] Buddy up with Valree and get some from her. (Requires 1 FP investment with Valree)
[ ] Buddy up to the hippy hydromancer Ros Everich (Requires 1 FP investment with Ros)
[ ] Stop smoking so much weed, you pothead!
[ ] Write in.
You have decisions to make. Who do you side with?
[ ] As narcissist megalomaniacs go, Tama isn't so bad, and his Duellona Expedition actually sounds kind of fun. Let's go Team Tama!
[ ] Pat Savage is a pulp hero of renown, and stopping Ironbone is vitally important for the whole Ring. Let's join the Pat Party!
[ ] Write in.
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[ ] Write in.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[ ] Burt
[ ] Helen (Default)
[ ] Eddie
[ ] Maribel
[ ] Roberta
Assigning Party Member Points
Note 1: This votes assumes three days between now and the next chapter, as opposed to the week covered in this chapter. As such, party member will receive fewer points to spend this voting period.
Note 2: Due to the complex nature of the vote, all votes in this section must be in plan format rather than the mix-n-match free-for-all votes usually are. The plan with the most votes will win.
Note 3: If you have any questions, feel free to ask!
Each Party Member (Burt, Helen, Eddie, Maribel and Roberta) has 1 Skill Point (SP) and 2 Friendship Points (FP).
The Skill Point (SP) can be spent on any skill you can reasonably study or practice while in the D'vaugnas Tower. For mental skills there's the library; for physical skills, there's the gym, shooting range, etc.
Friendship Points (FP) can be spent on the characters listed in the section below. These represent the time the Party Member spends with these characters, with each point offering a skill boost (chosen from a list of skills different for each character). A Party Member can spend both FP on one character or divide them between separate characters. A Party Member spending 2 FP on a character (including adding this chapter and the previous chapter) unlocks a character's special Perk. If a character has multiple Perks, the Party Member can only unlock one--you can unlock additional perks in later chapters as you invest more FP.
Some Perks can be 'split-cost,' with two different Party Members unlocking it by investing 1 FP each. The Perks are indicated as such.
Do note, however, that you only have complete control over Helen and can only influence your family. They will have one point (either a SP or FP) locked on a choice of their choosing. You can decide where to assign the other points.
You have three days before the Ritual and possibly Pat Savage's rescue/kidnapping attempt. How do you want to use that time?
Helen
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: [Assign 2 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: K'Leto D'vaugnas [2], K'Jala Galanaba [1]
Perks Unlocked: Mind to Mind (K'Leto), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Twin Telepathy (K'Leto)
Burt
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP)* [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: K'Jala Galanaba [2], Tama D'vaugnas [1]
Perks Unlocked: Mind to Mind (K'Jala), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Twin Telepathy (K'Jala)
*-This (locked) FP investment will give Burt 2 FP on Tama, thus allowing a Tama Perk to be selected. If you don't select a Perk, Burt will by default choose Under Corporate Supervision.
Eddie
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP)* [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Dr. Widari zun Eirohm [2], Tama D'vaugnas [1]
Perks Unlocked: Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Story Time with Uncle Widari (Widari)
*-This (locked) FP investment gives Eddie 2 FP on Tama, thus allowing a Tama Perk to be selected. If you don't select a Perk, Eddie will by default choose Forbidden Knowledge.
Maribel
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Mage Tethys (1 FP) [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Mage Tethys [3]
Perks Unlocked: Poke Your Broca (K'Jala).
Note: New Aeromancy skills unlocked! (See Mage Tethys).
Roberta
Skills: Computer Operation (TL 7x)
Friendships: [Assign 2 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Ayama Kokotomi [3]
Perks Unlocked: Phreaking the Grid (Ayama), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala)
Characters You Can Befriend
Note: Traits and background are common knowledge and are things you can learn from a brief conversation from Dr. Turing or other characters.
Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas: President and CEO of Diagnus Corp, ex-husband to K'Jala, father of K'Leto, philanthropist, futurist, computer and robotics magnate, occultist, archaeologist, adventurer, megalomaniac
K'Jala Galanaba, Secretary General of Diagnus Corp., Gnostic (Telepath and Clairvoyant), ex-wife of Tama, mother of K'Leto
Dr. Widari zun Eirohm: Chief Technology Consultant for Diagnus Corp, runologist, alchemist, mathematician, occultist, explorer
Director Cornelius Esau: Chief Security Officer of Diagnus Corp, Director of Diagnus Corps Security Assets
K'Leto Lax D'vaugnas: Daughter of Tama and K'Jala
Valree Zarhara: Tama's mistress, erotic model, photographer, artist, aspiring film director
Dr. Bejen Herrica: Ship's doctor and Tama's personal shaman.
Mage Ros Everich: Ship's Hydromancer (Category 4.8), low-level telepath
Mage Alais Tethys: Ship's Aeromancer (Category 5.2), Navigator
Mage Vekerio "Vek" Gellera: Ship's Metalmancer (Category 5.1)
Mage Sisousa "Zizzy" Rama: Ship's Photomancer (Category 5.4)
Dr. Endubis Malachi: Doctor of Alchemy and Thaumatology, Tulpa-Artificer
Dr. Alan Turing: British computer scientist, cryptographer
Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Philosopher, physicist, metaphysicist, mystic, very mildly telepathic
Ayama Kokotomi: Daughter of Bata, tinkerer, computer whiz
Other Characters
Part III, Chapter One
November 22, 1944, 2:00 PM
"No!" K'Leto snaps. "Stupid! Look at your legs! You have shit balance. Your feet should be like this! Like this! And don't squeeze! It's not a cleaver! Now, lunge! Lunge!"
You grit your teeth, your breath hot behind the wire-mesh face-guard, and fidget with the grip in your right hand, your left raised behind you, "like a cat's tail." The rapier isn't heavy, but weighty enough that your arm burns after two hours of practice. Sweat soaks the armpits of your padding.
Through the thin gray filter of your mask, K'Leto waits two yards away in en garde stance, the sword motionless in her left hand. The petite, four-foot-something elf is all in black in her form-fitting quilt armor, her face a blank obsidian bowl that no doubt hides that smug smirk of hers, with her spidery eyes drilling into you, judging you. This is pointless, embarrassing. And your audience makes it worse.
To the side watch Ayama, Zizzy and Teaky Reek (Zizzy's holographic skeleton buddy). The black computer nerd girl has on her foam sparring gear, though she's taken off her helmet, which has scrunched in her Afro. The photomancer (shorter than K'Leto and butch as hell with her army crew cut), wears a wife-beater/bicycle short combo that shows off the silvery tats on her skinny arms and legs. Teaky, a transparent, CGI cartoon tulpa about your height, is dressed as a pirate, complete with tricorner hat and tattered Captain Hook coat.
K'Leto cocks her head. "Why do you hesitate? Advance. Advance!"
Bitch. You bend your knees, step forward once, twice, and stab--and swerve. What do they call it? A feint? You strike at her heart. She swats your blade aside. Steels scrapes steel as you pull back for a parry.
These aren't the flimsy, old car antennae foils you've seen on Youtube. They're wider, sturdier, and hurt too. She pokes you in the neck, and you gag as the not-dull-enough tip punches against the padded cloth guard.
You stumble back, clutching your throat, letting out a choked, "Fuck!" Did she tear something? Will it leave a bruise?
She snorts, swirling her blade as if whisking eggs. "I severed your right jugular. Black out in half a minute, dead in three. Stop moving so much. Your shoulders, your waist, they broadcast your intent." She sighs. "Now, again. Advance. Strike me down."
"Come on, 'Leto," Ayama says. "Go easy on her." She flips her wooden dagger, catching it in her slender hand.
"This is how father trained me," K'Leto says. "Coddling teaches nothing."
"At least let her catch her wind," Ayama says.
"No, I'm good," you say. You fall into your en garde, but K'Leto doesn't bother. She faces you with weapon down, her stance relaxed, bored--everything short of crossing her arms and tapping her feet.
Spoiled brat. But you're a head taller and twice her weight. Could you bum rush her? She did say, "Strike me down."
With a shout, you charge, swishing your rapier in crazy figure eights. You cut at her hood, but she pivots, advances. Your blade slashes air as she snatches your right elbow and pulls you close. You trip.
You don't face-plant onto the rubber mat--your arms absorb most of the impact--but it still knocks the breath out of you. Zizzy snickers and says something Swannish, the speech mumbling and musical, like Vietnamese.
"Xophie's tits!" Ayama says. "Did you think that would work?"
You roll and sit up. The dulled point of K'Leto's sword greets your face-guard; you freeze as if threatened by a snake. The billionaire's daughter laughs haughtily, her black mask rearing back, her free hand resting on her hip in a cocky, heroic pose of made of shadow. "I praise your spirit, Earthling, foolish though it may be! For how can you compete with the superior agility of the Toloran race, much less I, the greatest fencer in the known worlds?"
"Greatest?" Ayama says. "What about Dame Csenia?"
"Csenia?" you say. "Isn't she . . . ?"
K'Leto swats dismissively. "The Zurainian is a formidable warrior, I grant you, but she fights with xiphe--little more than daggers. Not a fencer."
"Ah, a technicality," Ayama says. She wags her wood knife. "But I would say fighting with a short blade requires more skill, would you not?"
"I would not," K'Leto says. "And I am skilled with both."
"Csenia can block bullets," Zizzy says in a thick, watery accent. She's cross-legged on the floor (or 'deck' as Pookie says they're call on ships) and chugs a bottle of blue wizard juice. Teaky illustrates by parrying imaginary gunshots with its cutlass, each holographic impact making a tinny ting! sound.
"Can you block bullets, 'Leto?" Ayama asks.
K'Leto's shoulders tense. "I could if I wanted."
Teaky spawns a flintlock pistol and spins the spectral firearm on a bony, ghostly finger. It thumbs back the hammer and leers at K'Leto with a skull smile. "Let's test!" Zizzy says.
"It's not real," K'Leto says. "It wouldn't count."
"Would count!" Zizzy says.
"Csenia sparred with you, didn't she?" Ayama asks.
K'Leto clenches her sword. "No, she didn't."
"That's not what Colonel Grung says," Ayama says. "He says you lasted three seconds. Said she knocked you on your ass."
"That's a lie!"
Ayama clutches her own face in pretend horror. "'Oh! Vanquished by a Zurain barbarian! I have shamed the Vaugnas name!'"
K'Leto rips off her mask and hood and flings them down. "She's a paladin!" she says, her olive cheeks burning. "Her god Nodens, 'guides her blades.' She can't lose! She was cheating!"
"He said you said that too," Ayama says.
K'Leto whips her rapier at Ayama, blade outstretched in challenge. "Enough of your insults, Vendi! Duel me if you dare!"
Ayama's white grin grows. She mimes jabs with her knife, then explodes in laughter. "You're a national champion! You could best me blindfolded! And I'm not the one beating up novices and declaring myself the greatest blademaster in the universe!"
"Shut up!" K'Leto cries.
Zizzy sniggers, rocking with hands on knees. "Oh-oh! 'Leto angry!" she says. Teaky doubles over, cackling.
K'Leto stomps her feet. "Shut up! Shut up! I order you to shut up!"
At this, the three girls drop the whole, "speak English for Goosie's sake," and jabber in machine gun Swannish so fast you couldn't follow even if you spoke the language. You prop yourself on the mat. Along the gym's back wall (or bulkhead or whatever) hang the two black and white posters of a teenage Tama and K'Leto.
The photos have to have been taken decades apart, but you wouldn't guess by looking. Father and daughter each hold rapiers and daggers, each are dressed in 1800's-style military uniforms, and each are as alike to each other as you are to Pookie, both having the same black bug eyes, raven hair, sharp cheekbones and arrogant smirks.
What was that saying about apples falling from trees?
Well, you're not backing out now. After all, you have an ulterior motive.
Fortunately, last night, the four of you talked Bobbi out of Operation: Let's Bum Rush the Guards and Get Shot with Uzis. She can get pretty hotheaded, and she doesn't like cages, gilded or not. You don't either--and Tama's Lovecraft shit gives you the heebie-jeebies. But at least he set you up with that swanky-retro suite, and if you're all on a leash, it's long enough that you don't feel its tug. Plus he's paying you thousands of 'crowns' a week to sit around and do nothing, which is one of your favorite pastimes.
But nothing can also be boring (and there's no wifi, and the TV shows are freaky) so while you're stuck here, why not make new friends, learn new skills? This morning, Pookie said he was going to see Tama, and Eddie that three-eyed dwarf guy. Maribel of course wanted to train with that aeromancer woman, and Bobbi . . . as far as you know she's still working out her frustrations at the pistol range.
She invited you along but didn't really mean it. All night she was in one of her bitch moods. Killed your buzz. The two of you kind of got in an argument after that. Blah-blah-blah, we're prisoners! Blah-blah-blah how can you be okay with this?
Uhg. She needed alone time. You too, maybe. You had some freaky dreams, though they've since slipped down the memory hole.
So you put on your jeans, tie-dye and snapback and went exploring. Nowhere in particular, you ambled down the Sweet Pea's plush white hallways (or 'passageways'), drinking a bottle of fizzy sorta-raspberry juice and wondering what you were going to do when the weed runs out.
The want for a smoothie lured you to the gym; the music reeled you in. K'Leto was alone, racing down a treadmill while the breakneck riffs of elf-punk blared from a bulky boombox. She spared you a sideways squint, but otherwise jogged on as if you weren't there. You relaxed against the doorway and finished off your juice.
She was cute, in a tiny, gothy, Hot Topicy way, with her blue-highlight pixie fauxhawk, her big dark eyes, her rebellious sneer and her nearly catlike ears, (swept back now as if for speed). Her black skull tank top and ripped sweatpants flaunted tight athletic curves on a lanky build more like her dad than mom.
But her cuteness had a weirdness to it, a wrongness. It wasn't just her; it was all the elves. And it was weirder than even the dwarf. Because while the dwarf looked like a complete space alien, the elves were almost human. And though you couldn't explain why, 'almost' was worse than 'not at all.'
It was the proportions. The limbs were a little too spindly, the torsos a little too short, their movements and strides a little too graceful. And then there was the eyes. Eddie said they're 'down in the valley,' whatever that means. Maribel said it better: real life anime people.
But K'Leto seemed pretty cool.
It was then you went ahead with your plan. From the dinner party last night (nasty-ass food!), you found out K'Leto knew Pat Savage and even had an adventure with her. And Pat is your ticket out of here, right? Okay, so Pat might also kidnap you so she can fly you all into the Wormhole of Doom, but you can burn that bridge when you come to it. For now: buddy-up with K'Leto.
K'Leto was nice enough, at first. She asked if you wanted to spar with her. Having grown up with Johnny Depp's pirate movies and even that classic 80's one, The Princess Bride, you always had a thing for swashbuckling stuff.
She set you up with the armor and rapier (but not the parrying dagger--this was your first day) and taught you the beginnings of legwork and stances. But then she bragged she had been training daily since she was old enough to hold a sword. And she's top at her academy. Won four tournaments, one national. She's even better than her father! Ha ha! The old fool! His hubris shall be his undoing!
And she's the also the greatest pilot in the world, don't you know? First place this year's Moboros. She's been on magazine covers. And in TV interviews. And commercials. Many people hate her, but they're only jealous! And she's not just the best at swords and planes! Oh no, nobody understands the true extent of her genius! But they will! They'll write books of her exploits for millennia to come! Just you wait!
Yes, you, Helen, are indeed fortunate to have such a shining example of genetic superiority as a tutor. No! No! Ridiculous! Stupid! You're doing it all wrong! Why are you Earthlings so clumsy?
It was a relief when Ayama showed up with Zizzy for her "Akumite-Tahtib" practice, if only to give K'Leto someone else to bitch at. You shouldn't have been surprised. Yesterday, you only were around her when she was trash-talking her dad (which you wholeheartedly approve of), but now? Alan Turing mentioned she didn't get along with anyone; now you see why.
Should you have friended Ayama instead? But no. Stick with K'Leto. Pump her for info on Pat.
Even though you have no idea what anyone's saying, you do your best to calm the squabbling. It works better than expected, and while K'Leto remains somewhat sullen, a smoothie-break at the gym kiosk smooths things over. No one's on duty, so Teaky mixes the drinks.
Then Ayama suggests: Why not spar with Teaky? It's what she was doing. As if in invitation, a rapier appears in the skeleton pirate's hand.
It's not bad, but fighting Teaky has a very video game feel. Along with his Playstation 2 graphics, he moves jerky and robotic, like a clockwork marionette, and his parries are like hitting a slippery force field. But unlike with K'Leto, you actually score attacks, your blade sinking through his bones as if they're made of jello.
K'Leto sulks on the sidelines. "This exercise isn't . . . entirely useless," she says, "but it doesn't teach fencing. Zizzy doesn't know the art and neither does her phantom."
Whatever. At least Teaky doesn't treat you like an idiot. You go a few rounds, but Zizzy (having a job and all) has to help Chief Finny do coolant system checkups (whatever that is). And Ayama (being an intern and all) has to tinker with her blinky-light computers.
They leave, and the two of you unstrap out of your sparring armor. The gym's AC cools your sweaty skin. K'Leto flicks up her damp hair, revealing a little widow's peak. She grabs a water bottle and tosses another your way. You guzzle it greedily--it's been a hard workout.
She sips hers and says, "Come, I would have you with me."
Okay. You follow her down the hallway, a step behind her swagger. You both go down an elevator. You down the last of your water. The quiet grows too much.
"So . . . Csenia," you say. K'Leto glares at the name; you quickly go on, "and Grung. They're Pat Savage's gang, right?"
K'Leto relaxes. The elevator door opens. "Yes, Pat is a friend of mine," she says as she leads you along another hallway. "And a real hero of the proletariat. Not an imperialist oppressor like her cousin--or my father. You'd like her. She has that restless, reckless, 'cowboy' aspect you Americans so admire. I saw it in your Bobbi yesterday, when she tried to pull a gun on my father. Stupid! But also bold and spirited and--how you say?--'daring-do'?
"I have it too--that 'daring-do-ness--which is why Pat brought me with her to fight the Catacomb King. I don't know why my father threw such a fit. He's been in a hundred adventures, and he begrudges me this one? There wasn't even that much danger! The Professor was there, and he can take our whole sorcerer squad single-handed!"
"Professor Poseidon?" you say. "What's he like?"
She waggles her head. "Friendly enough. For a Sea Devil. Odd conversationalist, but then he only communicates through gnosis, since his monster mouth can't form human speech. He used to be human though, a thousand years ago. That's what happens when you have fish in your bloodline. Your eyes bulge out, your mouths gets wide. You turn completely by the time you're fifty, but that's not too wretched a fate. You live forever. A fair trade."
Yeah, you don't know about that. "We, uh, met some Sea Devils," you say. "Four of them. They kicked in our door and ran in with shotguns."
She chuckles. "I heard that. I assume it didn't end well for them, judging by the blood-splatters on the walls. And the severed head."
You've never been as scared as you were that night, but you force a grin. "I shot a couple during the gunfight." You mime shooting a rifle, wracking the lever and going pew-pew! (You pass a cute elf in a green minidress uniform; she gives you a funny look). You go on, "Pookie did too. But yeah, Maribel saved the day. Made them explode when she touched two heartstones. That's how we got here--and that's why she has the bandages. The head was my work. Sawed it off as a souvenir." Did the wizards take it when they looted the house? Doesn't matter. It smelled anyway.
"Sounds like quite a battle," K'Leto says with a tilt of her thin lips. "It's unfortunate you've fallen in with my father and not Pat, and not only for your sake. She would appreciate a band of adventurers such as yourselves--especially your brother. Like my father, she too has been scouring Earth for a world-jumper."
"To go after her sister."
"Yes. Into the Black Mesa Vortex."
You don't like where this is going. "Okay, how is this any better than what your dad plans to do? It still means flying into another dimension or whatever, and where Pat wants to go has like an evil skeletor wizard guy waiting on the other side."
K'Leto huffs. "There's more at stake than her sister. And I agree with my father on this: Pamela is certainly dead. But of greater importance, Ironbone is not. The Professor and Csenia merely banished him to another realm, or as you say, 'dimension,' and it's only a matter of time before he finds his way back. Though admittedly that may take centuries. Or it could be tomorrow."
"They couldn't kill him before," you say. "What'll be difference this time?"
She kind of shrugs. "The Professor has a secret weapon. If he thinks it'll work, I believe him. My point is Pat's quest has a nobler aim than my father's ridiculous 'computer utopia!' Tell me, what lies did he spin you after supper?"
You stop and check the hallway's empty. Why are you worried? It's not like Tama swore you all to secrecy. "It was a weird night," you say.
You tell K'Leto about her dad testing you all with the heartstones and about how he took you up to his posh bachelor pad. You don't have much to say about him monologuing about all the stupid books he read, but instead go over the 'Ritual.' Finally, you get to the part when he opens the safe, takes out the small black sack and shows you the magic rock.
"It's like I blacked out," you say, "but that's not it. I didn't see the rock, but I saw something. I was somewhere. But I can't remember what. And when I woke up I felt really sad. Like lonely, empty."
She flaps a hand. "The 'magic rock' probably has a gnostic imprint. I wouldn't read too much into it." She sighs. "My father so loves his baubles, just as he loves dusty old books written by madmen."
"It still freaked me out," you say. "And what about the 'Ritual'? He wants Eddie to do it. I don't think I like that."
She sneers. "I've heard my father speak of it. Something to do with 'marking the heavens.' Occult nonsense, I'm certain. But you say you lit a heartstone? Rare for an Earthling, but unsurprising I suppose, given your pedigree." She leads you down the hallway to a closed sliding door. "I can train you in your gifts. The gnosis. The 'nesis. They require a strong will to unlock, but with my guidance, it can be done."
Tama did mention that, didn't he? "You mean like telepathy and psychokinesis?" you say. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks." You've always wanted psychic powers. You don't even mind if it's K'Leto who teaches you.
"We can get started now," she says. She unlocks the door, and it swishes open. The scent of almost-tobacco tickles your nose. She motions you inside. Your eyes adjust to the dim light.
"Nice," you say, stepping over wadded up clothes (just like back home!). Honestly, her room is about what you expected. Size-wise, it's as large as your suite, but this is her space. She's made it her own.
A Swan-and-Crown flag hangs over a round window, filtering the morning sun blue and gold. Papering over the walls are posters of retro fighter jets and hoverbikes, along with a dozen of what you guess to be gothic-punk boy bands (half the elves are shirtless, all wear too much eyeliner). Not fitting this theme are squiggly runes on banners, and a few black and whites of grumpy history-book men in old-timey suits (mostly elves, though two are humans who seem familiar: one a guy with a Santa beard and dark mustache, the other a Patrick Stewart-looking guy with a goatee).
A big screen TV that has to weigh a hundred pounds hogs a corner beside a massive stereo piled with those VHS-style audio cassettes. Edgy pencil sketches clutter a slanted art table. Between two floor speakers, a wire stand holds an electric . . . guitar? Banjo? Lute?
On her nightstand, below a lamp and next to a clock you can't read, lies a dagger and holstered pistol. A sheathed rapier leans against her bedpost. The weapons have mahogany grips carved lumpy for six-fingered hands.
Stacks of magazines cover her dresser. Most are in Swannish, but you spot a Motorcyclist, and the issue of Autocar Pookie bought from Huckley. Along the mirror she's taped-up color photos: her in front of her fancy jet; her on a Star Wars hoverbike; her dressed like an 1800's officer, a sword in hand, a medal around her neck.
One picture has her riding ponies (no, unicorns) with a pair of mischievous-looking twin girls. Identical except for their mirrored sidetails, they're about twelve and clearly Vaugnas-spawn with all the spidery traits. Framed between them, K'Leto puts on a I'm-too-cool-to-be-here sneer that doesn't fool you.
Another photo has a fifteenish K'Leto with a guy who looks like a lankier, teenage version of Tama. Sullen and crazy-eyed, he's dressed in a paint-splattered smock, a brush death-gripped in his six-fingered hand. He and her stand on either side of an easel holding a gloomy oil canvas of a floating battleship made of blood and bones, dead babies dripping from its skull-like mouth onto a bombed-out city below.
The schlik! of a lighter sounds behind you. K'Leto sucks on a skinny cigarette and offers you one from a metal case.
"I'm good," you say. Even if you did smoke, Swan cigs smell funky. You hesitate, but you might as well ask. "Hey, do you know where I can get weed around here?"
She puffs her smoke, gripping it between thumb and second index finger. "Weed."
"Cannabis? Marijuana? Reefer?"
She rolls her eyes. "I don't indulge in bourgeois poisons," she says. "Go ask my father's whore."
Well, fuck. Valree seems like an even bigger bitch than K'Leto. Cute girl, though. You fish out your glass pipe and a baggie of Stinky Pete's finest. Packing the bowl with moist chunks, you ask, "Mind if I . . . . ?"
"Go ahead," she says with a huff. "It might help for your first time." She's digging through the bottom of a closet crammed with goth clothes and cardboard boxes.
"Um, thanks," you say. First time? You plop in a small armless, leather chair that, judging by the gears, springs and doodads on its sides, was ripped from an airplane cockpit. Nestling into its springy cushions, you spark and draw. The herb smolders as you fill your lungs. You hold, hold, hold . . .
"It's in here," she insists from the closet door. "Haven't used it since we launched the 'Pea."
. . . release. A smoky geyser escapes your lips. A kitten purrs in your chest. Blood jangles through your limbs. You take another hit, another. The walls bend like rubber as smug Captain Picard stares into your soul.
Through the sheer flag curtain, through the round window, the far-below ocean stretches on and on towards a hazy horizon, like a deep blue parking lot of forever.
How did this happen? Less than a week ago it was 2015. You were in Southside Fort Worth, downing beers on the front porch of Bobbi's duplex, trying to talk her into skipping work so she can go with you all for the weekend to your dead great-great uncle's haunted house.
Now? You're in another dimension, on the inside of a huge-ass outer space ring the size of the Solar System. And it's 1944--an alternate, Mad Max 1944. Except that doesn't matter because you're a prisoner on a rocketship cruise liner, kidnapped by a billionaire elf supervillain who's obsessed with a Lost City of Doom. And you're smoking weed in the bedroom of his spoiled punk teenage daughter. Who's about to teach you psychic powers.
This can't be real.
But why should that matter? You're not real either.
You rock in your seat, sucking your pipe. The magic stone. Once again you play through that weird, freaky moment when Tama let the cloth sack fall and . . . . what? What did you see? Who are you?
A bad craziness buzzes, but you grit your teeth, shove it down. Who cares if you're in the Matrix? A dream is real to the dreamed.
But what if the dreamer awakens?
K'Leto screws a red bulb into her nightstand lamp. It's the kind with a swivel arm, like they have at workshops. She hands you a pair of swimming goggles. "Here."
You rub your thumbs over the white, bowl-shaped lenses, like ping-pong balls cut in half. You try them on. "I can't see shit."
"You're not supposed to." She passes you a pair of giant headphones with boxy, padded earmuffs. The thick threaded cord centipedes across the carpet, plugging into the stereo.
"It's called the Ganzfeld Technique," she says. "My mother dismisses it because it was developed by an Earthling, a European scientist in the German Empire. They used it during the war for their 'catch-up' gnostic program."
"So, I just wear these and listen to music?" You could do that.
"Not 'music,'" she says, "but you're not wrong. Here, lay down." She points to her bed, a low, messy, king-size thing that could nest a half-dozen elves in a slumber party.
You amble up and can't help but smile at her motorcycle-print comforter. You sink cozily into the mattress, your head against a plush pillow. Vibrations from your high flow through you, but you can fall asleep easily enough.
Leaning over you, her cigarette clenched in her teeth, she takes the pipe from your hands and slips the heavy headphones over your ears. Silver glints on one of her fingers: a rose signet you haven't noticed before.
"It's about sensory deprivation," she says, her voice muffled, "blocking out the world so you can enter your own. Let the static carry you. Reach out, touch with your mind. Nothing will happen your first time, but you should at least skim the Astral."
"Okay," you whisper. This is all very Eddie.
She helps you put on the ping-pong goggles, the rubber strap snagging your hair. You may as well be blind, but with the flick of a switch blackness glows to warm red. Somewhere, a click, and a soft white waterfall sings to you of seashell nothings that lulls you like a lullaby which carries you away into a trackless sea of night . . .
Did you doze off? How long have you been here? You hover in a void weirdly familiar, a lonely island in an empty ocean.
Over there. A light. A beacon.
You swim closer, and it becomes a room, with a bed and a chair and a man and a woman. As if face down in water, you float above where the ceiling would be. The dreamy blur sharpens, and on reflex you cry out,
~Pookie!
On the lacy, cushy bed, Pookie stirs, his head turning but his eyes closed.
~Goosie?
~Pookie!
At the bedside, in a velvet chair, the platinum blonde figure of K'Leto's mom doesn't look your way. She doesn't move. But she sees you.
~Is my daughter teaching you that 'Ganzfeld' foolishness? Her cool annoyance washes through you. ~And she's smoking again, isn't she? Yes, I see it. Come to my quarters. I will train you the correct way.
The scene melts away, and you fall into the void, tumbling end over end until you plop back into K'Leto's bed. You tug off the goggles and squint at the red light shining in your face. You scrabble off the staticky headphones and sit up. "How long was I out?" you ask.
K'Leto is by the bed, in her cockpit chair. She looks puzzled. "Five minutes? Did you see something?"
"I saw Pookie--Burt, my brother. He's, um, with your mom."
Her expression freezes, her half-spent cigarette smoldering in her mouth. "You saw my mother? Then she saw you. And if she saw you . . . ." She leaps from her seat and kicks a pile of cloths. Her Swannish curses remind you of pissed cat warbles.
She turns on you, her black eyes blazing. "She saw me smoking, didn't she? That's just great! Excellent! She'll tell father, and he'll storm in here with security and ransack my room again! Oh, Xoph, and his stupid lectures! So what if my grandparents got cancer? That's our people's curse. The Black Snow's Toll. It's not caused by these!" Her sweeping gesture flicks ash across the white carpet. "And even if his 'studies' are right, it's my choice! He can't live my life! And he's such a hypocrite too. The old fool! He doesn't know it, but I've seen him snorting cocaine with that whore of his. Why should I do what he says? You tell me! Why?"
Eggshells surround you. You tread carefully. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . what did I do again?"
K'Leto draws deeply, then lets out in a long, simmering sigh. "It's not your fault. I didn't think you'd project your first time, much less make contact. You're exceptionally talented--for an Earthling. But in the future, remember this: if you scry on a gnostic, the gnostic can scry right back." She jerks a thumb at her runic posters. "These usually keep mother out, but when you made contact with her, she could use that to see right into my room. Snooping bitch."
K'Leto says she'll teach you more tomorrow, but right now she has to hide her cigarettes. You leave and wander the hallways, half-stumbling not only from the weed, but your Ganzfeld trip too. Was that an out of body experience? Did you really telepathically contact Pookie?
One way to find out. You go up in an elevator, though you can't say why you push the blue button for the fifth deck. A compass in your brain leads you down a hall, and you pass door after door until you stop, knowing somehow this is the place.
~It's unlocked, Helen, calls the soft, musical voice in your head. You press the plate; it slides open. You drift into the dimly lit room, taking in the warm, easy aroma of roses and incense.
If K'Leto is punk and Tama 60's Mod, then K'Leto's mom has gone with an old-timey, fancy-grandma look, with fragile antique furniture and lots of lace and doilies. It's just as you saw in your vision. Pookie sits propped on pillows on the perfectly made over-sized bed, and K'Leto's mom is in a cushioned chair so skinny you doubt it'd hold your weight.
She sips from a tiny baby blue teacup and nods at you. Pookie keeps his china carefully in his lap, cupping it as if protecting a mouse. He gapes at you with wide eyes, his mouth open.
"H . . . Hey Goosie," he says. ~Did that really happen?
"I guess so," you say aloud.
"Come. Sit," K'Leto's mom says, motioning at the bed with a dainty white hand. "I was training your brother in the art of meditation, but now I'm about to begin his language lesson. Would you like some tea?"
You settle next to Pookie. "Yeah. Thanks."
With aristocratic grace, she pours a cup from a tea set. She's shorter and curvier than K'Leto, and prettier too, at least classically, lacking her daughter's nasty sneer and harsh angles. She's let down her French braid, and her lush, ash blonde hair drapes over her slender shoulders and down the back of her tight blue silk dress--a shiny Asian-style piece that matches her twin sleeves of silvery runic tattoos. Its low-cut front offers a nice view of the crucifix dangling in her cleavage, and the slit up the side shows a lot of her firm, pale, rune-tatted leg.
"Cream? Honey? Sugar?" she asks.
You turn away quickly. "Cream and sugar, please."
Bamboo tapestries and silk murals decorate the walls, most of flowers and landscapes, though one features a bloody Jesus nailed to the cross. A framed black and white photo shows her and Tama holding a newborn before an alter with a stone crucifix. Tama has more hair, less wrinkles, and K'Leto's mom can't be older than you. Baby K'Leto, snug in her blankie, stares at the camera with black bug eyes as an elf man in a fancy robe and pope hat pours water on her head. K'Leto's mom beams proudly; Tama grins too, though his has a smuggy smirkness to it.
Another picture, this on her nightstand, has a toddler K'Leto sitting on Tama's shoulders, laughing as she points at something out of frame. Her other hand holds a toy airplane while behind them full-sized real ones--stubby-winged, WWII-ish fighters--squat on a runway.
K'Leto's mom hands you a saucer with a cup not much bigger than a thimble. The red drink smells sweetly of smoke and apples. You dab in your tongue: not bad.
"Now that you've spent time with my daughter," she says, "what do you think of her?"
"Um . . ." Should you lie? Can you lie to a telepath? How do you feel, anyway?
K'Leto's mom smiles serenely. Mischief dances in her icy blue eyes. "Mmm. The Vaugnases tend to be . . . that way. But K'Leto hasn't murdered any kin nor attempted a coup, so she's better than her more infamous ancestors. Tama is too, for that matter. But regardless, that was a price I knew I would pay, that any child of ours would inherit 'the spider's taint.'"
You don't ask. You don't have to.
"You wonder why I married him," she says. "That's a long, personal tale, but perhaps by telling it, you will see why we serve him. Drink your tea. Lie beside your brother."
The elf's voice has a weird, reverberating undertone that sends tingles down your spine. What was that thing Eddie told you about? AMRS? ARSM? You and Pookie exchange dubious looks, but you both down your cups. Slowly, he lies down on one side of the bed. You crawl across and take the other. The mattress sinks and rocks with gurgling waves: a waterbed. Your head lolls on the pillow. The ceiling above greets you like a gray fog.
~We've been drugged.
"A slight sedative," she says, "whose purpose will be revealed. But before I begin, are either of you familiar with Cyrus the Great?"
The question takes you off guard. Are you supposed to?
"Th-the . . . King of Persia?" Pookie half-slurs.
"Yes," she says, "from your Earth's Ancient Age. Cyrus, King of Kings, King of the Four Corners of the World. When I was very young, my mother would tell of how though he was a heathen, God touched his heart and through him restored the Jews to their homeland. These tellings are among my earliest memories, and though my faith was strong, the stories couldn't elude their fantastic, fairy tale quality. Judah, Persia, Babylon . . . these could be found on no map, but existed in a faraway world, in a long ago time. But their truth was grounded in one respect: at my mother's belief that history repeats itself, that Tama D'vaugnas was Cyrus the Great come again.
"To understand what that means, you must know my background. I was born in a slum in the Kaiensian ghetto, and before I was a year old we had already been relocated to the Coraphana Factory Camp. I was too young to remember when typhus took my sister, and I never met my brother before he met his end in the trenches at Fahanas.
"I won't elaborate on our civil war. The Dragons may have sparked the fire, but despite what Tama will tell you, the conflict was never about political ideologies. Assal has always been a troubled country, a weak kingdom made into a weaker republic, with too many peoples, too many faiths. We Korigans were never well liked, and the ones of us in Christ even less so. Already my parents had been driven from Kogira ten years earlier. No land could be our home.
"My mother says little about the Ky'lan Genocide, and history circumvents the act, dismissing the deaths as exaggerations or the result of disease and malnutrition. Excuses and evasions. I don't know the full extent of what happened in our camp, but I know many innocents died.
"The horrors affected my parents deeply. My father gave in to despair, his soul waning, shuttering away. Even years later when we were safe, he always bore a slackness in his expression, a hollowness in his eyes. My mother was scarcely better, but she would not give up. Her love for me and her fellowship with Christ kindled in her the fires of hope. And hope did come . . . though in an unexpected form.
"As you've witnessed firsthand, the Swans hold curious customs. You have a term for one of them: 'filibustering.' It's almost a rite of passage for young, wealthy men to hire mercenaries and 'go adventuring.' Usually this entails shooting savages and stealing treasure, but Tama saw in our war the spread of that cancerous scourge known as communism. Call it civic duty, call it hubris, but against the advice of his peers, he hired Corn--that's Director Esau--and together he and his company joined with the Free Ky'lan Army. They raided supply lines, liberated villages. As their fame grew, their ranks swelled with partisans.
"My mother would always remember when their mighty, rumbling land leviathans rolled over the barbed wire fences. The factory guards tried to surrender, but . . . . Tama's detractors speak of 'massacres' and 'war crimes,' but of this my mother would only say he slew many wicked men that day. She also says he cut a dashing figure as he climbed from his armored machine, clad in his red and green uniform, a sword and pistol in his hands. He was a tall, lean young man barely out of his teenage years, with long flowing locks and a winning smile. She recognized him at once. The papers were rarely kind to the Vaugnases, and Tama had a reputation. So it was with some surprise that this swarthy mutant playboy was our savior.
"He and his men passed out water, food and clothes. He even briefly spoke with my mother, asking if she needed a doctor. She was nursing me at the time, which she says made him blush. It's strange to think that was the first time we met.
"Under ordinary circumstances, I think he would have left us to fend for ourselves. He was there to kill communists, not shepherd refugees. He was also--as I would learn years later--there to relieve museums of their artifacts. But nevertheless, as fate would have it, he had fallen in love.
"You saw the portrait in his private chambers. The sad Korigan girl in the purple dress. Her name was Rini Jo'snik, but Tama called her his Sweet Pea. He rescued her from a brothel a few weeks prior. He's always has a softness for pretty waifs with sad stories, and she was indeed a pitiful thing, her family lost in the Kaien Uprising, and she herself enslaved. As ludicrous as it sounds, I believe everything he did for our people was only to make her smile.
"But regardless of the reason, he did much. It's been said this was unnecessary. Consul Mirekif's army was in shambles; the war was won. And while most chose to remain in Assal, nearly a thousand, including my parents, accepted Tama's offer. Assal held no future for us. Why stay in a ravaged country, with not a crown to our name?
"From his own purse, Tama arranged our exodus to Swanland, settling us in Toloran, in the company town of Gonobree, near the Sologoth border. He employed both my parents as workers in one of his machine parts plants, and with their wages they rented a small brick house in an outskirt neighborhood of fellow refugees.
"I enjoyed a comfortable childhood, attending a good company school, with a few close friends. But a miasma of loss hung over my life, a gloom exasperated by my still latent gnosis. It was more than the injustice of our history; it was the fickleness of fate. So many had suffered unfairly; so many had been saved by one man's whim.
"Because he was our CEO, we kept Tama's portrait on our kitchen wall. I remember being fearful of that enigmatic smile, the way his deep black eyes would follow me around the room. We were expected to thank the picture before meals--one of the Swans' myriad cultural quirks, a relic from the reign of the Merchant Princes, during the Late Second Age. My mother of course thought this blasphemous. But still, she revered him. He was our Cyrus.
"He visited our home once, when I was three. I recall the event only hazily, my excitement but a contagion caught from my mother's mania to ensure the house was immaculate for his arrival. And when he did arrive, I hid behind her apron because to me he was only a tall, imposing grown up with the same strange face from the portrait. Rini was with him--another grown up, but short like my mother, with eyes and hair like mine. She was shy but kind, and even at my young age I could feel her sadness. She gave me chocolate.
"Tama spoke with my mother--my father was out drinking--and gave out presents of his own."
Wood creaks; you catch movement on the edge of your vision as K'Leto's mom stands over the bed with arm outstretched, her crucifix dangling over Pookie's head. She steps around to your side, and you try to focus on the swaying cross, the dim window light glinting off the silver. Your eyes decide that's too much effort, so it remains a drifting, shining blur against a gray backdrop. Why can't you move? Isn't that a bad thing? You float dreamily on the mattress, unable to care.
She returns to her chair. "Years later, I learned the visit was nothing special. Tama was checking up on all his Korigan families, and the gifts were but baubles purchased in bulk. But still I've worn this every day.
"I was eight when Rini . . . concluded her life. That's our euphemism, and it's sadly a common fate for our kind. But unlike most, hers wasn't the result of tumorous growths or blood illness, but instead a wound of the soul that neither time nor love could heal.
"At school we wore white in mourning, and we wrote Tama letters of condolence. Not that he read them. While years later he would fund research into combating traumas and melancholia, at present he was inconsolable, his grief leading him down dark paths.
"Years passed. As I grew, my gnosis manifested. I enrolled in our school's sorcerer candidacy program, and after they arranged my heartstone test, Diagnus Corp sponsored my training at Sologoth's Sorcerer Academy, where I scored High Yellow. It was around this time the Great War broke out . . . and I attracted Tama's affections.
"I was no fool. I resembled his lost love. But why should that matter? He captivated me, with his manic charm, his brooding magnetism. To be with him was to bask in the sun.
"I didn't even care that he was married. And neither did my mother. She encouraged me in fact, for who knew what boons I could extract for our people? This mercenary pragmatism offended me, but as I was later to learn, hers was the wisest approach.
"I graduated with the commission of Junior Lieutenant, and Tama's influence placed me as an attache to his Security Assets. I served by his side, and when I swelled with child, he divorced his second wife--a vapid debutante, the daughter of a viscount. We wed three days before K'Leto's birth.
"I was well aware of the kind of man he was. I believed I could change him, even lead him to Christ. To your lack of surprise, I was unsuccessful.
"It wasn't his atheism or his belittling attitude regarding my faith--I could accept that. It wasn't even his infidelity--that hurt, but I could overlook such indiscretions. But he was not discreet, and he lied constantly. To me, a gnostic! Even if he can block my probes, I am no imbecile.
"The final nail was during a banquet at Kruza, in Zurain, where he paraded around his barbarian peasant whore and her twin infants--with the traits, of course. The guests cooed at how beautiful they were, which made Tama puff with pride. Never have I been more humiliated.
"I confronted him. 'You promised you would be faithful!' 'How can you lie again and again?' 'Do you have no shame?'
"Throughout my tirade he only smiled, then replied it was my fault for being angry. Hadn't he cheated on his previous wife with me? Did I think I would be different? Moreover, so great was his masculinity, how could he limit himself to one woman? And look how cute those babies are! If he hadn't had the affair, they wouldn't exist! How could I be so heartless?
"At first I was enraged--if our roles were reversed, he would hardly be so blase!--but upon further reflection . . . he was right. Not how he claimed, but right in that I entered our marriage with both eyes open. Tama was and is a vain, womanizing scoundrel, and it's unfair of me to hold him to a higher standard. After all, it was Cyrus the Great, not Cyrus the Good.
"We divorced amicably, and our relationship improved once I learned to accept him for who he is. And he repented of how he treated me, in his way. It was for this he made me his General Secretary. And later, conducted me into the Ritual.
"This brought dark revelations, and challenges to my faith. But some truths are sacred. They are worth preserving, worth ensuring they come to pass. And that is why I serve Tama. For wicked reasons he walks the path of the righteous, and through him will we bring about the Kingdom of Heaven."
"How . . . how will you do this?" Pookie mumbles. "Why won't you tell us?" But here's something wrong about his voice, or at least about the words that he says. The vowels and consonants, they yowl and warble like . . . .
You break out in goosebumps. You jerk up from the bed. "Pookie, what are you--?" But you cut off, your own voice making the same weird Vietnamesey sounds.
Swannish. You're speaking Swannish. Pookie was speaking Swannish. And then it hits: K'Leto's mom was speaking Swannish too. And you understood every word.
"Yes," she says in English. She sips her tea daintily. "But that's enough for today. It'll take about a week of lessons before your Broca areas adjust, and in the meantime there'll be the occasional linguistic confusion. And I'm afraid there's nothing to be done about your atrocious accents."
To help you wind down, she talks you two through meditation practice, going over the breathing exercises and how to move your consciousness through your body's seven 'thrones' ("Or 'chakras,' as your Asian races calls them"). She then warns you about shortcuts.
"My daughter is not entirely wrong," she says. "The Ganzfeld Technique is very effective. Too effective, for it permits power without perception. In order to build a house, one must first lay the foundation, and in gnosis, that foundation is self-mastery of the soul. Otherwise you risk psychic assault or possession. The astral realm is beautiful, but can be deadly. Though admittedly the danger is for the moment minor. Spirits are unlikely to loiter over interworld oceans."
Afterwards, you and Pookie head back to your quarters. You have to lean on him a little because your limbs are like jelly, and you feel real loose like a long-necked Goosie.
Pookie frowns. ~Whatever she gave us, it wasn't in her tea.
You hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, slipping us roofies is uncool," you say, "but I guess she needed to make our brains soft to poke our Brocas or whatever."
"Doesn't make it right," Pookie whispers. "She still should have warned us first."
"She's a supervillain's right hand woman," you say. "What did we expect? Anyway, if she thought that story was going to make us like Tama more, she really doesn't get us."
"Perhaps not, but I understand why she follows him."
You snort. "Grooming?"
"Something like that," Pookie says. "Her story makes me sad, and kind of uncomfortable."
"Tama is a creep," you say. "By the way, you saw him earlier. What'd you talk about?"
Pookie's full lips purse. "Occult things. A summary of it, anyway. Tama's very personable, and . . . I don't think he's a monster. Not a complete one. I'll give him that."
You find your family in the center (Pookie's) room. Eddie lounges on the bed, smoking a joint, while Maribel sits in a beanbag chair, munching a bowl of purple popcorn. They're watching a TV show of two wizards fighting each other in crumbling castle ruins.
Bobbi doesn't seem as interested. She half-waves from a corner where she leans against a padded wall, her wide mouth a tense line more thoughtful than angry. She blows vape vapor through her nostrils and asks, "What you two been up to?"
You shrug. "A little sword fighting, a little astral projection. Oh, and me and Pookie can do telepathy now."
That gets Eddie and Maribel's attention. Your sister's eyes light up. "Do me! Do me!"
You and Pookie try, with all of them. But after a couple of minutes all Eddie feels is a tingle, and Maribel and Bobbi not even that. Your carefully shake your head, a sinus pressure building behind your eyes.
~Guess we need more practice.
~I'm not surprised it's easier between us.
"After all, I think we've been doing it for years," Pookie finishes aloud.
Everyone tells what they've been doing. Tama lectured Pookie about 'comparative theosophy' and the 'Outer Gods,' who all have stupid names like 'Nyarlathotep' and 'Yog-Sothoth.' Eddie spent time with Dr. Widari, who taught him a bunch of stuff about runes. Maribel practiced aeromancy with Mage Tethys, and to show off, she levitates above the carpet and makes her popcorn circle her like Saturn's rings.
"She says later she can teach me how to make wards. Those are the wizard bubbles. And she can teach me to shoot lightning, and summon tulpas, like my baby tornadoes! Except these will be smarter, like little airy fairy friends!"
Bobbi did more than just shoot a gun all day. She met with Ayama after your fencing practice, and the Vendi girl showed her around the computer room. And they looked at Samael, and apparently there's also a half-assembled robot in the engineering bay.
"It's Fallout as fuck," Bobbi says. "Noodle arms. Fish bowl head. Vacuum tube brain. It's not a Ford 385, but if I tinker with it, I can figure out what goes where. Oh, and the Swans have the internet. Kind of. It's called 'the Grid.' It's a lot of supercomputers hooked up through phone lines. Just corporate and government stuff. 'Yama chats with nerds all across their world."
From a red plastic desk Bobbi picks up her phone. The charger cord runs from it to a blocky gizmo, which then connects to a wall outlet. "And look what we rigged up. Adapts to their goofy plugs. Charges slow, but that's better than frying our phones."
No one's happy when you tell about K'Leto's mom. "She fucking drugged you?" Bobbi snaps.
"It wasn't that bad," you say. "It's worn off. And it's worth it because we're like, 'learning' Swannish."
Eddie giggles, his blue eyes red from the weed. "Babel fish tea?"
"Can I drink it?" Maribel asks.
"I don't know," Pookie says. "I'll have to talk to Dr. Herrica."
You roll your eyes. Pookie's always worrying about everything. "It'll be fine," you say. "And anyway, it beats weeks of language classes."
You order room service through the intercom, and after explaining to the waitress you don't want any of their nasty shit, you all settle on five cheeseburgers with a side of chopped up baked potatoes and tomato sauce. You ask for beer, but Pookie launches into a lecture on mixing drugs and alcohol and blah blah blah liver damage, blah blah blah respiratory failure.
"If the tea was that dangerous, she wouldn't have given it to us," you say.
"You don't know that!" Pookie says.
"Fine," you say.
When food arrives, you all watch a couple of episodes of Battlemage Xelanno: Savior at Age's End. The TV-guide brochure thing (in both English and Swannish) says it's a 'youth adventure program' based on the historical life and times of Xelanno, heir to the sacred geomancy school of Kaligi zu Xen, who was born the night before the Vindi Atomic War. Set 'after the thawing of the Black Snow and before the rise of the Six Kingdoms,' the series follows the battlemage as he wanders the wastes, defending the innocent and fighting evil.
There's no subtitles, but you kind of follow along. It's pretty badass, with a banging rock soundtrack. And wizards shout their attacks like they're in Dragon Ball Z, and every time Xelanno unleashes his full power his leather vest rips to shreds, showing off his rippling pecs and abs. The sets, costumes and stuff remind you of Xena, except with geysers of blood and 80's gore effects.
The first episode has Xelanno protecting a village against a giant mutant werewolf cyromancer warlord (a human in furry cosplay). Xelanno kills his way through the werewolf gang, summons rock golems to battle ice golems, then finally, after a long wizard-kung-fu fight, blows up the werewolf's head Scanners-style. The second episode guest-stars Valree, who plays a cackling bikini-clad necromancer commanding a horde of crocodile zombies. She has magic bracelets that can no-sell Xelanno's attacks, so he has to team up with a cute mocha-skinned, Asian-looking priestess in a miniskirt robe. Together they get an amulet from a temple and the priestess does a ritual (she dances naked to disco music) that makes Valree's creations turn on her. As the credits roll, Tama's girlfriend screams as she's chewed to bits by animatronic puppets.
Maribel giggles so hard she spills her plate. Pookie checks the TV-guide again and frowns. "I can't believe this is for children," he says.
"Different cultures, Burt," Eddie says, munching the last of his fries.
"At least they weren't killing real animals this time," Bobbi says.
Still stoned, you lean from your egg-shell chair and empty your cashed bowl into a tacky green ashtray. "They save that for musicals," you say.
"I still don't think Maribel should watch this," Pookie says.
"It teaches me how to be a wizard!" Maribel says.
"Yeah," you say, "we don't want to like, stunt her education, do we Pook?"
The others laugh. Pookie tosses the guide down and slumps into his seat in defeat. You lock eyes with him.
~She ripped four Deep Ones to pieces.
He does his Charlie Brown sigh. ~I know.
~She saw a wizard levitate severed heads.
~I know.
~This won't hurt her.
~We don't know that. I just want to protect her.
~You are. But we're not mom and dad.
The thought conjures unwanted memories. Your throat tightens, the grief hurting all the more for being shared with your twin. His face sours.
~I'm sorry.
~No, you're right. We're not. But she needs parents.
~We're doing our best, Pookie. That has to count.
Later that evening, you and Bobbi are in your room, lying in bed. The gentle AC keeps the air a soft cool while the far-off purr of engines lulls you like a lullaby. Outside the round window the neverending ocean rolls below a million stars shining in constellations you've never seen. The Ring, a thin dotted-line across the night sky, glows a ghostly blue.
She's not pissed like last night, but there's still in her a grumpy tension, a bitter resignation. Under the sheets, she has her arm around you, her fingers nervously drumming your belly. You snuggle into her warm spoon.
"Ayama seemed pretty nice," you say, "but I didn't hang out with her one-on-one. What's she like?"
Bobbi snickers into your hair. "Jealous?"
You shrug. "Should I be? You blew me off earlier."
"It ain't like that, Babe." She kisses your ear. "Just needed some space. Get my head on right. And 'Yama's straight as a razor. Wouldn't shut up about marrying a Big Strong Vendi man to give her Big Strong Vendi kids. But what about 'Leto? Gaydar goes ping with that one."
"I don't know," you say. "Maybe bi. Either way, she's kind of a bitch."
"Yama says that too."
"Who wouldn't?" you say. "'Leto's a lot like her dad. Her mom talks like they all got supervillain genes. But she taught me telepathy, so she's all right, I guess."
Bobbi nods, her face nuzzling the back of your head. "'Yama is good people. She's . . . uh . . . hang on." She pulls away and slips out of bed.
The pale ringlight highlights the curves of her nakedness as she crosses the room to the boxy stereo. She pops in a random cassette. An Asiany-sounding orchestra drifts from the speakers. It's not loud, but should be loud enough.
She climbs back under the sheets, this time facing you. In the dark, she holds you close, her brown eyes inches from yours. With a breath of hot mint, she whispers, "'Yama is a Vendi Nationalist."
"Um, yeah," you say, keeping your voice low. "That's what she said yesterday. She was all like, 'Black Power!' or whatever."
"Can you blame her?" Bobbi asks. "The Swans make them live on reservations, and they're drafted if they're not straight-A students. They don't even get to vote. Not really."
"Well, that's bullshit." You nod at the music. "But why the paranoia?"
"Because she can be an ally. She has friends on the Grid. Members of the Vendi Separatist Movement. Anarchists. Communists. People who aren't Tama groupies. We play our cards right, she might hook us up, help us escape."
You hold in your sigh, but Bobbi feels you tense. She frowns. "What?"
"Escape where, Bobbi? To Pat Savage?"
She squints, her mouth a confused pucker. "We don't have to . . . but isn't that why you're hanging out with 'Leto?"
You let it out. "Yeah, it is. But I'm thinking: what then? Won't Pat just drag us off to rescue her sister?"
Bobbi wags her head against her pillow. "Eh, maybe? But it's like what 'Leto told you. There's a lot more at stake."
"Fighting Ironbone?" you say. "Yeah, no thanks."
"And what do we do if he comes back?"
"It's a big Ring," you say. "We just go where Ironbone isn't."
Bobbi's silent, studying stare stretches on.
"Look, I just want to be free-free," you say. "Not under anyone's thumb. Is that too much to ask?"
She cups your cheek. "That's what I want too, Babe. Why do you think I was all for going jail-break? Now we just need to keep our eyes open and wait until we can slip the leash."
She soon drifts off, and you're left alone with your thoughts. She's right--you got to bide your time--but she also doesn't see the whole picture. Tama and Pat only really need Eddie (and maybe Aunt Esha), so in the end it's his choice. And since Eddie's kind of a weirdo, you guess he's going to pick Tama. That's cool. He and anyone else who wants to join him can fly off to the Lost City of Doom and get in stupid adventures, and you can hang out in Tama's skyscraper and smoke weed. Everyone's happy.
For now, though, you're stuck on this ship, but that's not so bad. The next four days are actually pretty nice. You and K'Leto keep fencing, and you even spar with Pookie a few times. You also do your telepathy training, and you don't even need the Ganzfeld goggles after you get the hang of it.
Pookie asked Dr. Herrica about the drugged tea, and it's a benzo-whatever, which is the same thing as Valium and Xanax. Pookie goes all frowny-face at that, but the doctor says it's only a mild dose. You all do the language training, though Maribel drinks only a little tea (and Bobbi not at all). After a couple of days you skip the tea altogether. K'Leto's mom doesn't go on about her personal life anymore, but instead reads you Swannish poetry and fairy tales. Maribel calls it 'Story Time with Elsa.'
You and Bobbi spend time at the shooting range. It's not very big, only about fifty feet long, with paper cutout bad guys hanging at the end. The only kind of gun they have is a mid-sized semi-auto with a boxy slide and rubber grips. It's a cute pistol, with an ambidextrous safety and mag-release buttons. It holds nine .32-ish rounds in the magazine (and in case you get any ideas, the bullets are chalk).
There to 'assist' you is one of the elves from the ship's security team. Wearing white body armor and a helmet with a plexiglass shield, he watches you by the door, his hands never far from his pistol and baton. At first Bobbi keeps shooting him dirty looks, but after a while you chat him up and find you know enough of each other's language to get by.
His name is Sergeant Pressa (but you can call him Jann). He's a friendly guy--mid-thirties, handsome (for an elf), with that Sicilian look the Swans have. He's a farm boy from the plains of Verveenia, which is one of the six 'Confederal Kingdoms.' He served in the Blue Airborne during the war, riding gliders down from troop transports behind enemy lines. He doesn't go into detail, but you guess it's spec-op stuff. He works for Tama because the pay's good and the benefits excellent. Especially the medical, since his son was born with bad kidneys.
Looking back, Bobbi's plan of raiding the armory and holding the ship hostage was pretty stupid. You wouldn't want to face down Green Berets or Navy SEALs, even if they're four foot eight. Plus you'd feel bad killing these guys, after you get to know them.
On the last night, Tama holds a party. Half the crew packs into the club, most of them dancing to the synth-funk blasting from the wall speakers. Colored floor hexagons flash to the beats while above a giant diamond ball slowly spins, scattering starlight over all. Zizzy's hologram serpent snakes between gyrating bodies, sometimes stopping to light cigarettes or spit sparkles into drinks. Maribel likes that and earlier chased the tulpa through the crowd, her sneakers inches in the air.
Everyone makes room for Tama. He wears a white, big-collared silk shirt, halfway unbuttoned to show off his pecs. His matching pants hug his thighs but flare at the bottom around his white loafers.
Black eyes wide as saucers, elf ears perked like horns, he grins manically as he struts to the song, his thinning, graying hair damp and matted, the lights glinting off sweaty scalp. His ruby and emerald medallion sways as he bounces butts with Valree, whose dress isn't more than a half-dozen wispy scarves sewed together. It flaps and slips as she dances, her waist-length chestnut hair swirling around her slender curves.
You sip your strawberry-kiwi beer, unable peel to your eyes from the show. She's . . . really pretty. Adorable. Beautiful. Even for a weird anime elf. Why the fuck is she with this creepy middle-aged Bond villain? Oh, right. Billionaire. A lot of the crew clap and cheer to their performance, though the cheers kind of sound like laughter.
~Mid-life crisis?
You nod to Pookie, sitting across the table from you. So many here to watch Tama make a fool of himself--and so many who aren't here.
K'Leto lurked in the back for a while, but only to scowl at her dad before skulking off. And you don't see K'Leto's mom anywhere, or Ayama, or her mom, or that old Arab guy. And out of the ship's wizards, only Zizzy's here, chatting with Valree's camera guy in the DJ box. No Alan Turing either, though he said this afternoon he wouldn't be coming: the music gives him a headache. After a few songs you can't blame him.
You and Eddie did some dancing. But clubbing isn't your little brother's thing, and you've had enough of this disco shit. So the two of you joined Pookie, Bobbi and Maribel at a booth by the long window running the length of the club.
The fruity rice-brewed beers aren't bad; you even let Maribel have a sip (though Pookie doesn't like that). Bobbi ran out of vape yesterday, so she's onto the Lucky Strikes you bought her in Huckley. She blows smoke as she stares into the night at a lightning storm raging silently miles away.
"That's Ally's magic!" Maribel says through a mouthful of ice cream. She taps the window with her spoon. "She uses her witchboard to keep the storms away. Ross does it too, but with rain."
Ross. That's the hippy hydromancer. A fellow pothead, from what you hear. Maybe you can hit him up when your stash runs out--which fortunately shouldn't be for a few weeks.
You take out your pipe and are packing your bowl when from out of the crowd waddles the short, squat Dr. Widari, dressed stylish in his plushy red robe, a gold medallion swinging from his thick neck. Eddie raises his beer in greeting, and the dwarf salutes with the silver stein in his squid-hand.
"I'm surprised you're here, Doctor," Eddie says, having to shout over the music.
Widari pops the lid on his mug and takes a slurp, wobbling on bent monkey legs. "Overlong research dulls the mind," he says loudly in a raspy voice, his accent carefully pronouncing each English word.
"All work and no play, huh?" Eddie says.
"May I sit with you?"
Eddie scoots closer to Pookie, and Widari hefts his fat beachball-body into the booth. Even across the table you can't help but wrinkle your nose at his moldy funk--a dirt-stink, like an old worn blanket dug from moist ground. His mirrored sci-fi visor, twinkling in the disco lights, hides his three pink beady eyes, leaving his face weirdly unreadable. Not that you can read much in his chimp snout with its seemingly permanent little grin. Pale crusty warts poke from his elephant skin, like macadamias from gray cookie dough.
He flaps a tentacle-finger all around him, taking in the whole club. "Human aesthetics evolve at an accelerating pace. Five years ago, this electronics-produced, Vendian-derived musical genre did not exist. Twenty-five years ago, electronic-stringed musical instruments did not exist. Technology fuses with culture.
"This is untrue of my race. We keep to traditions, and we say, 'The songs of our ancestors are the songs of our descendants.'" He barks once, like a shouted cough, his open mouth showing brown horsey teeth. You all flinch at his sour-milk-and-whiskey breath. "I jest! We say this, but it is a lie! The songs of our parents are not the songs of our children!
"And do parents enjoy the songs of their children? On occasion, yes, but usually no. I know I generally do not." He gestures at Tama, who's now moonwalking across the dance floor. "But in this, my friend is unusual. In his objective to attract fertilely-prime females, he adopts their cultural preferences."
Eddie snorts. "So he's all like, 'How do you do, fellow kids?'"
Widari laughs again, harder; you cover your nose. "Yes!" He claps Eddie on the shoulder. "Yes! That is Tama! His deceptions fail, yet he succeeds because of his immense wealth!"
"Very classy," Bobbi says, snubbing out her cigarette.
Widari swivels his bald head and studies her through his sunglasses. "He is of the patrician class, which also assists in his designs. And yet as the rate of cultural evolution increases, so must he continue to adapt to remain relevant. This will prove especially bothersome once we return from the Autumn City, as at least a decade will likely have passed."
You pause in sparking your bowl. "Wait, what?"
"Time dilation," Eddie says. "We talked about this last night. Remember?"
"Uhhh . . ." You were pretty high.
"One hundred ninety-four days," Widari says. "That is how long we were in the Autumn City. But when we finally repaired the Humperdinck and escaped the Fog, fifteen years had passed. There are competing theories as to the specifics of this discrepancy, but all involve the warping of spacetime.
"I have discussed with Tama the business consequences of this effect. In his estimation, his children are inadequate to manage Diagnus in his absence. He proposes installing Cyclops as temporary CEO, but this introduces legal challenges regarding the personhood of artificial intelligences--challenges I suspect insurmountable in the short term.
"But in general, Tama is unconcerned, as business will be irreverent once the Final State is attained. I hold a more pragmatic position, for I do not believe he will succeed in his utopia."
No one speaks. Pookie arches his eyebrows. Widari sips his nasty drink and says, "Consider this Ring, this . . . reality. It is vast and ageless. Innumerable civilizations have risen and fallen. If Tama's quest was achievable, would it not have been accomplished eons ago?"
"Then why are you helping him?" Bobbi asks.
Widari's thin lips curl upwards. "Because there is beauty in the attempt."
"Attempt what?" Pookie asks. He leans forward, looking across Eddie at Widari. "Final State? What does that mean? Utopia? Utopia how? Any chance you'll explain that to us?"
"No," Eddie says. "I've tried."
"It was truth," Widari says, "when Tama said you would not believe. You may suspect, but until you are confronted by the Ritual, you will remain blind."
"The Ritual sounds weird," Maribel says.
"And only Eddie gets to do it," you say.
Eddie shrugs. "I'll tell you guys what happens."
"And they will not believe you," Widari says.
"We will," you say, meeting his visored eyes.
~I don't like this guy.
~I'm not sure I do either, but . . .
"Okay . . ." Pookie says, letting the word out like a sigh. "You can't tell us Tama's plans, but can you tell us about the Autumn City? Aside from Aunt Esha, you're the only one on this ship who's been there."
"Yeah," Eddie says to Widari, "you've mentioned it, but you never really told me the whole story."
"I want to hear it!" Maribel says.
Widari leans forward, looking across Eddie at Pookie. The mimicry is obvious. "You intend to derive information from my tale to deduce Tama's plans. That is acceptable. I will tell you of the expedition, but not here." He climbs out of the booth and checks his pocketwatch. "We arrive at Sologoth in one hour. Let us watch from the Observation Deck."
He stops by the bar to refill his mug of whiskey-milk, and Pookie gets another beer. You light your pipe, take a hit and pass it to Eddie. The music's switched to a synth-pop piece heavy on the drums and sax; Zizzy's serpent sprays white sparkles while dancers stomp to the beats and sing to the lyrics, which you kind of make out as about 'Snow Party Fever' or whatever.
You and Eddie share the weed as the five of you follow Widari out of the noisy club and into the soft quiet of the white hallways. After a quick, cramped ride down an elevator, he leads you towards the front of the ship. You're pretty baked when you reach the large, dim room with the wide, slanted windows, the middle one a big hexagon with a sturdy frame. Far away in the stormy night, purple lightning flashes across charcoal clouds. Swaying on your feet, you blink at the green strobe-light afterimages.
Widari plops into an egg chair. You and Bobbi pick a love seat, Pookie, Eddie and Maribel a sofa. Seen only in dark silhouette, the dwarf chugs from his stein and tugs from his robe a long curved wizard pipe, like something Gandalf would smoke. He lights it with a match and puffs thoughtfully, blowing white smoke rings through his slit nostrils. He drums his tentacles on his gut.
"I have chronicled the journey in my memoirs," he says, "yet have barely conveyed the metaphysical ramifications of what we discovered. I surmise you know the general outline of the voyage?"
"Oskar told us what he knew," Pookie says.
"He knows only salient facts," Widari says. "Adequate in summary, but there are truths omitted, revelations undocumented. My motives sprang beyond Clan Eirohm's profit. I sought beauty and illumination.
"But my clan is not governed by philosophical aesthetics, so I presented Imperial Count Gerbern's expedition as an opportunity for technological patent rights. My parents and my grandparents disapproved because of my youth. I was fifty-five years old--late life by human standards, but barely an adult to my people. Also, I was betrothed to my future spouse, and my demise on this adventure would deprive us of a familial tie to Clan Or-El. But I persisted in my arguments, extolling the potential advantages over our competitors. Reluctantly, my family relented.
"Gerbern purchased two aged ships, the corvette Humperdinck and the aviso Pfeil, and he spared no expense in retrofitting the vessels with tri-semantic turbines, vacuum-insulated lifters, aero-enhanced propellers, and Jodham-runic hull plating. From my own inheritance I invested into this enterprise, supplying the latest Eirohm-produced breech-loading turret guns, as well as repeating firearms and personal armor. The lever-action carbine? That was Esha's and was crafted by Eirohm. The three-barreled shotgun? That too was crafted by Eirohm--by myself, specifically. I discharged it often during the expedition, and gifted it to Gerbern when we parted ways. I have been told both weapons were of use to you? I am glad. They are your birthrights."
"Um, thank you," Pookie says.
"You are welcome. Though I only knew Gerbern for less than two years, I consider him a good friend. This is true of Esha as well, and of Nirro, the shaman, Iso and Jothi, the gnostics, Father Hatha, the aero-hydromancer, Dakatu, the metalmancer, Xarius, the marine captain, and, later in our adventure, Samael, the android. Among these, only Father Hatha remains. And Esha, if she should be awakened. And Samael, if it should be repaired.
"But at the onset of our venture there was no such camaraderie. My objectives notwithstanding, I thought Gerbern possessed inadequate leadership and was skeptical that Esha's runes could navigate dimensional fog. I was also apprehensive when Gerbern employed subterfuge to appropriate two heartstones from New Dortmund Academy, but he argued it is better to ask forgiveness than permission. I remain doubtful of this claim. But fortunately the Jaganma Empire's judicial processes operated slowly, and we would depart before they could conclude their investigation. Ultimately, their judgement would not matter since the government would collapse during our absence.
"Gerbern and Esha held a lavish revelry, and the following morning we embarked. This was fifty-five years ago, before turbojets and turboprops. We had no slipstream saddling, no aero-runonics. While the Sweet Pea Jo'snik can travel from New Dresden to Duellona in four days, for the Humperdinck and Pfeil, the journey took fifty-seven days.
"I was aboard the Humperdinck--to my fortune, as fate would reveal. It was a compact, pragmatic vessel, lacking the Sweet Pea's amenities. Being of wealthy background, I was unaccustomed to this austerity, but illumination requires sacrifice. With time at my disposal, I continued my research into semantic runology and came to appreciate the beauty of Esha's equations. My greatest works to come would be inspired by what I learned from her.
"On the fifty-first day, we spotted in the distance the dark line of Vendi-Ka land. On the fifty-third day, we resupplied at a depot on the tip of a continent you would call Africa. But aside from its geographical shape, you would not recognize the land because ninety-three percent of its terrain is desert. I have discussed this with Eddie, but I assume the rest of you know the generalities of Vendi-Ka?"
You put down your pipe, your eyes mesmerized by the thunderstorm lightshow. But before you can reply, Pookie says, "It's an Earth, or at least part of an Earth, transmigrated to the Ring five thousand years ago."
"Four thousand seven hundred thirty-six years ago," Widari says, "according to the current consensus. But that the Atomic War happened five hundred fifty-six years ago is indisputable. Their ecosystem has partially recovered in the intervening centuries, but the majority remains wasteland, with most flora and fauna suffering heavy mutations.
"There are hundreds of small settlements among the more habitable regions, many founded by Vendi who survived in great underground vaults. Equally numerous are the archaeological sites. While virtually all major cities were annihilated, there are innumerable ruins to explore and artifacts to recover.
"These did not interest us, for our eyes were set on Duellona, also known as Bellona, D'Yute, the Autumn City and the Inconstant City. But you will recognize it by its original name: Byzantium."
"Oh," Pookie says, as if the name means something. It does sounds kind of familiar.
"Like, Istanbul?" Eddie says. "Constantinople?"
"It was never called those in their history," Widari says, "but the same. It was renamed Duellona in 1160 After Transmigration, following its conquest by the Samnites. Over the next three millennia the city would grow into a metropolis of twenty million. In 4179, one year before the Atomic War, a science experiment left the city enveloped in dimensional fog, inaccessible to the outside world. Though records are incomplete, it is theorized the event exacerbated tensions between the Ereben Empire and Aravias Alliance.
"But this decoupling from reality spared Duellona, for the atomic missiles could not touch it. Since that time, there have been seven expeditions into the Fog, with only two returning. The first being Captain Meero D'Mirsky's voyage of Third Age Three-and-Forty-Six, and the second being ours, of Third Age Seven-and-Fifteen.
"At the time we were confident of our success, for did we not have a World-Jumper? Did we not implement Esha's improvements upon D'Mirsky's Vendi-derived runes? On the fifty-seventh day, after three days over desert and sea, we reached the white smoky dome shrouding Duellona.
"Gerbern ordered the engines at maximum power, and he took his station at the bridge witchboard, where Esha and myself assisted him. He conducted the dimensional synergy, his hands upon the carves runes. The Humperdinck, with the Pfeil close on our starboard, flew into the Fog.
"Eddie says you experienced Fog around Gerbern's house." Widari wiggles a tentacle at the hexagon window. "Imagine the disconcertion upon seeing that same featureless white outside our ship, stretching to the infinite. In such a state, distance, proportion and velocity have no meaning, for no longer were we on the Ring but instead were journeying through inter-dimensional space.
"But we had prepared for this. Gerbern's trait and Esha's runes allowed us to navigate the void without incident. That is, until we encountered the Basilisk.
"We should have known; we were warned. D'Mirsky's memoirs mention the Basilisk, but in his account he marched onto the deck of his frigate and challenged the spectral serpent to a game of Rin, wagering the lives of himself and his crew for safe passage through the Fog. He also claims that upon defeating the Basilisk, it transformed into a sexually desirable female, with whom he copulated.
"D'Mirsky had been known to embellish, even fabricate events, and we assumed this episode was one such example. But the Basilisk was real, and in our instance, uncommunicative, offering no opportunity to play Swannish board games. It attacked without warning, rending our hull with arcane claws. Targeting the serpent was difficult because of its translucent nature, and even when our shells struck they only passed through its immaterial body. As we would later learn, the creature was a tulpa conjured by the Echo of a Delsan sorcerer, and only by learning its True Name could we dispel it. For now, though, we were helpless under its merciless assault.
"The Pfeil exploded, probably because of a ruptured boiler. As its burning wreckage tumbled in the Fog, I felt for the first time mortal fear, its icy grip seizing my hearts. At that moment, I cursed my foolish youth and my thirst for illumination. I should have followed my family's urging! I should have stayed with my clan, working for its advantage, as is the duty of all of my race!
"Our turrets fired one final, futile salvo before the Basilisk's tail slashed deep into the Humperdinck's underside, puncturing two of our three lifters. Steaming unnomo scalded five sailors, two of whom would succumb hours later. Three others fell through the breech, disappearing into Fog. Our ship plummeted, spinning as it accelerated through nothing. Gripping my seat on the bridge, centrifugal force tugging me towards the starboard bulkhead, I wondered through my terror whether we would descend forever, our vessel functioning as an eternally-careening mausoleum lost between worlds.
"But after an indeterminate time, we emerged from the Fog, and saw through the bridge window the wondrous and ruinous glassy towers of Duellona. The cityscape swirled as we spun, and I admit I and others screamed as we raced headlong into a cluster of skyscrapers. Were we to reach our long-sought destination, only to perish like a meteor?
"Fortunately, our helmsman, the skilled Father Hatha, righted the Humperdinck in time and guided us along a street between the buildings. Our remaining lifter reduced the velocity of our descent, allowing a controlled crash. The ship shook violently as we slid down the pavement. My teeth chattered. Centuries-abandoned road vehicles bounced off our bow. Finally, after plowing a five hundred meter trench, we shuddered to a halt.
"Battered and stunned, we climbed from the Humperdinck's wreck. Majestic ruins of glass and steel towered above us, many structures taller than the tallest of Sologoth today. We marveled at this alien world, knowing we would remain here for an extended duration, for along with the hull breeches and punctured lifters, two of our four engines required extensive repairs, one having been ripped from its mooring during impact.
"Gerbern was unprepared for the severity of our circumstances, but he shouldered his duty and led us forth. To account for our adventures during these one hundred ninety-four days would consume many hours, but I will offer brief summary. In general, though, Duellona is an acausal city; spacetime proceeds in strange eddies.
"One night, the cloudy sky may part to reveal two moons among unfamiliar stars; one morning, the sun may blaze red and swollen in an orange sky. One may walk a street of decayed rubble only to find the buildings rejuvenated the following week. Locations migrate with the coming of Fog. Days repeat. D'Mirsky described Duellona aptly when he called it the 'City of Dreams and Madness.'
"We scouted methodically, finding the streets largely abandoned. What denizens we encountered appeared alive and sapient, but the longer we interacted with them, the more obvious their deficiency. I believe they enjoyed subjective experience no differently from you and I, but were they people? What is identity without memory and continuity?
"While they seemed aware that calamity had struck Duellona, none could describe its nature nor how long ago it occurred. And, most unfortunate, no rapport with them could last more than several days. I pitied them, for they lived addled lives on looped tracks, straying from their paths only by our influence and yet always in the end forgetting us entirely, resetting once again into their temporal patterns.
"On the fourth day, our explorations of the subways led us to a clan of gorhorey, or as you would call them, 'trolls.' They are an archaic ancestor of my race, larger, more violent and lacking our intelligence. In the dark tunnels they charged us with crude metal weapons, but we defeated them through a combination of magnesium torches and firearms. This was my first gun battle, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Regrettably, though, we lost two of our number.
"On the sixth day, while surveying the dockyards, we made contact with a party of Sea Devils. We communicated via writing and gnosis, for neither of us could speak the others' tongue. We would learn they were immune to the city's torpor, for, like us, they were outsiders, explorers even, their home an aquatic dimension accessible only kilometers out under the Proconnesus Sea.
"We arrived at an arrangement in which they would assist us in repairing the Humperdinck in exchange for our runecraft. Their race suffers a negative reputation, which is undeserved. They honor contracts like civilized beings.
"One the ninth day, we discovered the Commune, a collection of decadents living in tents in a city park. They were artists and poets and mainly occupied their repetitious centuries with music and narcotics. It is here we met Captain Meero D'Misrky--an unexpected sight because of his death one hundred eighty-three years prior. He appeared just as he does in his portraits, with his dark, narrow Toloran features, his long, curling black hair, his red longcoat, his feathered red hat, and his jeweled cyro-cutlass. His runic-flintlocks he had exchanged for Ereben auto-loaders, and he also now wore tinted spectacles."
"Oskar described him as an 'imprint,'" Pookie says.
Widari nods, puffing his pipe. "Or Echo. We theorize the city remembers, and sometimes manifests, all who enter its domain. D'Mirsky was dimly aware he had been in the city a 'very long time,' but could not accurately account for its passage. Nor could he explain where his crew had gone, though some of their number occasionally appeared in the Commune. Over the next one hundred eighty-five days, the captain would disappear five times, only to reappear days later. Following each cycle, he would have no recollection of us.
"In this first iteration, D'Mirsky aided us against a local youth gang known as the Scorpions. They were vandalic and violent, but not beyond reason. Through the captain's interceding, we avoided bloodshed. Additionally, on the thirteenth day, D'Mirsky showed us the location of the Immaculate Palace.
"It was an immense and pristine spire of glass and steel, so tall its top vanished in the overcast sky. D'Mirsky mentions it in his memoirs, but was unable to approach due to the skyscraper's robotic guardians. According to surviving records, the Immaculate Palace belonged to Protogonus Industries, a mighty corporation, and while details of their projects remain obscure, available evidence suggests they were responsible for Duellona's current state.
"We breached the glass doors and expended Black Stiletto rounds to dispatch the security robots. A particularly large and durable quadruped required an Atomic Wrath shell, though the resulting wreckage melted through into skyscraper's basement levels. We won the battle at the cost of seven of our number, including Captain Xarius.
"It was a price worth paying. Illumination requires sacrifice. And so we explored the spire, collecting not only artifacts--including Samael--but reading records paper and electronic. And we discovered the Great Elevator. After examining its machinery and judging it safe, eleven of us entered the spacious car and pressed the glass button.
"The slow, smooth descent took many hours, until finally we emerged into a tunnel network of pure crystal. We deduced these caverns were not a natural formation but instead grown by design. In a nearby campsite Protogonus left many research notes, and upon examining them the truth dawned that our place in this facility, at this time, was but a distant epilogue to an aeons old tale.
"When the Venda-Ka lands transmigrated onto the Ring, the lands they materialized over had not always been uninhabited. There was an elder civilization, one which extinguished one-point-six million years ago. Though they are called Precursors, who they were is unknown, and with the transmigration, the majority of their archaeological record was annihilated. But not all.
"We know they were highly advanced, far more so than the Vendi. They also had uncovered a strange truth, one which required a subterranean laboratory constructed so deep as to touch the Ring's adamant, which is its indestructible hull. There the facility remained, unperturbed by neither the fall of their civilization nor the transmigration of the Venda-Ka lands, until, approximately five hundred ninety years ago, when Protogonus' psionic-machines sensed its long-hidden presence far beneath Duellona.
"And so Protogonus built the Immaculate Palace, and in its basement they drilled a shaft twenty-seven kilometres to the ancient laboratory. After years of studying its crystal computers, they discovered that the Precursors learned how to communicate with the Ring. This alone is remarkable but not the most pertinent fact. Instead: What did the Ring have to say?
"I surmise Mr. Kuckenbacher has told you of the Diamond Throne, and how Esha, in her quest for knowledge, placed the World Stone circlet upon her head, therefore instigating the transmigration of the Earth from which we have departed. I will come to that later. For now, there was the truth we uncovered, the illumination I received.
"Do you believe in God?"
The question gives you whiplash. Silence stretches. You've put away your pipe, though the weed paints colorful patterns in the forked lightning and swirling storm. Through the dark clouds a horizon peeks. Land.
"No," Eddie says. "Not anymore than a big fish is a god to a little fish."
"There's got to be a Higher Power," Bobbi says.
"I think there's lots of gods," Maribel says. "Like Zeus and Thor and Jesus and Nodens. And Cuh-too-loo too, but he's a bad god."
"A few days ago I would have said I'm agnostic," Pookie says. "I . . . guess I still am?"
You shrug. "I'm with Pookie. I dunno."
Widari blows a smoke ring. "In my first five decades I believed in the god of my race, Hokrum, who reigns over all elements from the Molten Dimension, judging our actions and conjuring miracles at opportune occasions. But upon reaching adulthood, I abandoned this anthropomorphic view, for not only does the idea carry an air of primitive projection, it lacks explanatory value.
"Consider compassion, intelligence, justice, wisdom . . . . These concepts are constructed into Hokrum's being, but by what principles are they assembled? In analysis, concepts come before being just as bricks come before a house. A personal God is no difference, and so, regardless of power, it is only an aggregate of components and therefore cannot be the foundation of reality--cannot be the Absolute.
"Instead I favored God as process, as the act of becoming. Dholron's Cupboard, or as you call it, Plato's Realm, stores potentiality, and it is through the Lathe of Heaven, crafting moment by moment, that potential becomes actual. God is the inward flame which compels causality. From subatomic events to conscious action, God is all the myriad decisions which forge our world.
"This is what I believed, and the core reason I joined the expedition. I wished to peer into the Cupboard, to not only speculate but know the nature of things. Why is there something instead of nothing? Why is reality this way and not that? Tama was correct when he said these questions are trite, but, like him, I desired an answer.
"And so, deciphering the Vendi's notes and their translations of the Precursors' archives, I found my answer. But it was a terrible, devastating answer. An answer which answered nothing."
"You discovered this is a simulation," Eddie says in a hollow, haunted tone. He waves a hand in the darkness. "All this is a simulation, right?"
"Is it?" Widari says with a chuckle. "You seem to think so, but there is distinction between speculation and knowledge. Even after receiving my answer, I sequestered doubts until seventeen years ago, when I engaged in the Ritual. Only then did I resign to the truth. But I have told too much. I will say no more. We arrive at Sologoth."
Far ahead in the storm the dark clouds curl back to reveal a shining seaside city stretching from the shore to the horizon. Dozens of skyscrapers, a hundred or more, star the night with a million windows that shimmer in the pouring rain. Neon signs blaze neon colors while rows of hovercraft sail over the skyline in white Christmas light lanes.
Maribel bounces from her sofa. "It's Cyberpunk City!"
The Sweet Pea slows over the water, dropping altitude to the skyscrapers' tippy-tops. Six stubby-winged jet fighters zip towards you over the city and across the harbor. They swerve around to fly alongside the ship.
You and Bobbi rise from the love seat and wander forward, Burt, Eddie and Maribel behind you. You press your palms to the cold glass, your eyes wide as you absorb the city life. You've been to New York, but you and Pookie were only four, your memories only blurred imaginings of crowded streets and impossible towers. Other than that, the biggest city you've been to is Houston, and Houston can't compare.
Like a ginormous parade balloon, the Sweet Pea floats into Sologoth's downtown, drifting lazily between wedding-cake skyscrapers while the fighter jets zip around like minnows guiding a great whale. A fat fridge of a building has projected on its side a film of a mocha-skinned elf girl prancing nude on a beach: the priestess from Xelanno. The camera zooms as she clenches a long cigarillo in her perfect teeth, and she winks at the camera as she holds up the pack. Another tower nearby has on its top a rotating neon sign of a smiling three-eyed dwarf puffing a Popeye pipe. The logo's the same as on the ammo boxes for your elvish carbine and the three-barreled shotgun.
In a patch of city far to the left, across a glistening river stitched with bridges, skyscrapers give way to medieval castles and domed temples, and a stone fortress shaped like a ninja star. Miles to your right, over another river, past suburbs and along low hills, barely-seen factories with tall chimneys belch smoke into the storm clouds above. Straight ahead of you, in the distance, the city flattens to concrete fields with control towers and hanger huts.
The Sweet Pea veers slowly to face a skyscraper shaped like a skinny Aztec pyramid that, while not the tallest in the city, is taller than most. You recognize it from a photo in Tama's biography, but it's changed a lot since the 1920's. In that picture the building had a classy grace; now it looks tacky, the modern clashing with the old. Giant red and green hexagons sizzle on its sides like neon tattoos, and at least a dozen floors have been knocked out to make room for two different greenhouses, their paned windows, cluttered with forests, bulging outward like love-handles. High up on the spire, right above an out-of-place radio dish, a fifty foot gold statue of a naked man raises an electric torch at the sky. You can't make out the face, but no prize for guessing who it is.
"Majestic, is it not?" resonates a voice behind you. You all turn in the dim light. Tama drapes a tired arm across Valree's shoulders; she cuddles into him, the fox Nee-nee bundled to her chest. On the billionaire's other side stands K'Leto's mom, cool and professional in her Asiany silk dress. Behind her hangs the metalmancer Vek, who looks as if she just woke up with her rumpled tee, pajama bottoms and bedhead crew cut. By the doorway lurk two gas-mask goons, their assault carbines down but ready.
Valree kisses Nee-nee, giggles, and for a split second meets your stare with pupils as big as quarters, the hazel only halos around black. Tama watches his tower with gaping pit eyes as dark as space. Sweat shines on his face. He sniffles, rubs his nose and says, "Your feminist author Margaret Fuller once wrote, 'A house is no home unless it contain food and fire for the mind as well as for the body.' And I promise you my house has ample of both! Indeed, a wondrous cornucopia of luxury awaits behind those walls. I bid you welcome."
"Um, thank you," Pookie says.
The Sweet Pea floats towards a top levels of the tower, zeroing on a steel hexagon door. Around the doorway unfolds an accordion tube, stretching slowly from the building as the ship aligns it with the room's hexagon window. The distance closes inch by inch until the accordion presses into the window, and mechanical clacks echo as the frames lock into place. Air hisses; the glass hexagon slides up, inviting you down a metal walkway through the thirty foot tunnel to the steel hexagon door on the far side.
"Cool," Eddie says.
Widari hops from egg-chair and joins Tama's group as the billionaire leads the way across the dark accordion-tunnel-airlock-thing. The rest of you follow, the gas mask goons behind you. The walkway creaks under everyone's weight, but Vek waves a tiny hand, calming the metal.
The steel door swishes open, and the billionaire swaggers into a large, bright room, his arms outstretched like a rock star greeting adoring fans. Two rows of Vendi men in white body armor and helmets stand to attention, WWII-ish sub-machine guns in their hands. Their officer waits to the side, a fiftyish cappuccino-skinned guy with ribbons on his armor and the hexagon logo on his baseball cap.
The officer clenches his granite jaw, his narrow eyes staring straight ahead. "Welcome back sir," he says in Swannish. It's weird how your ears hear, 'meow-yeow-pow-tow' but your brain makes it English.
"Greetings, Cletus," Tama says, also in Swannish. "Just as Prince Narrocles journeyed the Golden Sea to Xaxas to retrieve the Karak's Cache, so to do I return from distant lands with treasures both marvelous and revolutionary!"
"Yes, sir."
"The stars slide. The Ring spins. Night gives birth to dawn! Upon the fruition of my plan, I, Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas, shall banish all evils for all time! No longer will children cry out in the dark! No longer will innocent suffer wars and famine and pestilence! Even death, that cold sister of sleep, shall lose her sting, for my Utopia shall reign eternal!"
"As you say, sir."
Tama chuckles as if at a private joke, and even K'Leto's mom snickers. He claps Cletus' shoulder and says, "Still think I'm mad, do you?. No, do not deny it! I forgive your ignorance. For just as beasts of the field comprehend not the workings of men, so to do simple, stalwart men comprehend not the machinations of my mind! But soon you will see the truth of my vision, for the End of History is nigh."
"Very good, sir."
"But in order for all this to come to pass, my treasures must be protected. Has security been upgraded?"
Cletus relaxes a millimetre. "Yes sir. Completed this evening. Two platoons of Heavies transferred from Gonobree and Zapaport, and we've contracted thirty-two sniper teams from Shadrook and Nwabudike."
"Excellent! Operate them in thirds. And show my guests to their quarters."
Cletus leads you all out of the room and into a 1930's elevator with shiny brass walls. You crowd into the car, and he takes you down a few floors. Silence drags until the doors ding and roll open.
"So you think he's crazy too?" Bobbi asks.
"He's not crazy," Eddie says.
Cletus wags his head. "He pays me well," he says in mushy English. "He treats me well."
Your quarters on the Sweet Pea were luxurious 70's-style hotel rooms; the ones in the Tower are luxurious 70's-style apartments, each with a kitchen, a dining room, a living room with a stereo and big-screen TV ('big' being like 16 inches), and a hexagon-shaped Jacuzzi. The 54th floor view shows off Sologoth in all its cyberpunk coolness, skyscrapers overlapping skyscrapers all the way back to a glittering Tetris skyline. As gilded cages go, this one's pretty posh. Free room service too.
Two days pass. The Tower itself has everything the Sweet Pea has but more and bigger. There's boring office floors you're not allowed onto, but also there's a roller rink, an ice rink, a swimming pool, a library, a greenhouse, an art gallery, two night clubs (one disco, the other jazzy) and, on the ground floor, a kind of mall with four department stores and a bunch of boutiques. Out of these, only the mall remains open to the public; the rest is closed for 'security.'
This isn't really a bad thing. You all get everything to yourselves, including the greenhouse. It's a slice of forest paradise on the 31st floor, with soft shaggy grass, blue-berried bushes and gnarly, floppy-leafed trees that slant up at crooked angles, their twisty limbs stretching seventy feet to the sky-painted ceiling where bright halogens shine like the sun. Support beams are disguised as yard-wide tree trunks, the elevator shafts as a rocky cliffside. Along the windows runs a white marble sidewalk with steps leading up to multi-tiered balconies overflowing with jungle vines and weird candy-colored orchids of every shape and size.
High between branches flap green scaly bat-dragons that dive down to munch on the blueberries. They're friendly little guys who eat right out of your palm. Same with the miniature rabbit-kangaroos that hop out of burrows, though they like these cashew-things. In a small corner pond live a family of swans: a mommy, a daddy and a bunch of gray-feathered babies. They gobble up the apples and potatoes you throw in the water, but the parents get hissy if you try to pet them or pick up the babies. You also steer clear of the purple bumblebees, but so far they leave you alone if you leave them alone.
Maribel loves the greenhouse, and so do you. It's a nice place to ride your skateboard. Alan Turing says it was built a year or so back, along with a smaller, private garden under Tama's five-story penthouse (which only Pookie and Eddie have seen). Apparently Valree is a country girl from a small Verveenian town, and she missed her nature walks. So Tama gutted thirteen floors and spent millions on remodeling, just to make her smile. Which is kind of sweet, you guess.
You see her once in the greenhouse but keep your distance, smoking a bowl and watching from the bushes as she walks Nee-nee, then feeds the swans. Her red halter shows off a tight tan tummy; her green silk bell-bottoms hugs her butt real nice. You don't go near her. Not because you're shy, but . . . well, so far your only interaction with her was when you first met, when you shoved her and called her a bitch. But then, she called Maribel a bitch first. Okay, so your sister blew dirt on her, but Valree was getting too close with that stupid camera.
Still, maybe you should make nice. She has weed, and you're burning through your stash faster than expected. Or maybe you should lay off the pipe a little? Bobbi's been nagging you, and yesterday K'Leto few off the handle when you showed up to fencing practice high. Blah-blah-blah no discipline! Blah-blah-blah bourgeois degenerate!
Not that you'll have to deal with K'Leto much longer. In a few days she's going back to D'shalsky, which is some rich kid academy in rural Toloran. She's Vice President of the Student Council and says she has 'important work.' Like what? Organize pep rallies? Bake sales? Weird, she doesn't look like a nerd.
But maybe you should have played your cards differently, because you're pretty sure she's sneaking out at night. She mentions 'going for a ride,' and later disappears. She could be hiding in her room or somewhere else in the Tower, but you don't think so. Unfortunately, she doesn't invite you along.
Not that you could go if she did. To keep you from 'getting lost,' Tama has one or two security guys following you all at all times. There's also guards watching the elevators and stairwells, and out on every corner of the big balconies (the Tower's pyramid-steps, which you're not allowed on) two-man teams squat with scoped rifles and binoculars, watching the city for threats. In short, you're not escaping on your own, and anyone rescuing you has their work cut out for them.
But it's not too bad. Aside from the greenhouse, the gym and sometimes the shooting range, you spent a lot of time at the roller rink and swimming pool. And you and Bobbi love your Jacuzzi. She mellows out, after a couple of nights. The steady supply of beer and cigarettes helps, though she's beginning to taste like an ashtray.
Honestly, you wouldn't mind living like this forever, but it isn't going to last. Things are going to happen. Tama plans to do the 'Ritual' in three days, and weird-ass Eddie's looking forward to it. And Tama's also talking with Pookie and Dr. Herrica about experimental cancer treatments. Maybe soon you'll get to meet Aunt Esha?
And then there's the big foggy elephant in the Tower: the Duellona Expedition. Tama wants to go yesterday but has preparations to make. Right now, the Sweet Pea is at Sologoth Airport, undergoing maintenance and upgrades, which you're told includes new weapon systems. You know, in case they run into a giant tulpa dragon or whatever.
You really don't want to go to Duellona, and soon you'll have decisions to make. But until then, you might as well enjoy yourself.
On the third night, you and Maribel go shopping. Tama only lets you go after hours, so the two of your are alone except for your security and a handful of employees who stayed late. Aside from the tacky 70's color scheme, the Tower's department stores aren't too different from any Dillard's or JC Penny, with clothes, jewelry, furniture, decor, electronics . . . . and you have ♕5,000 burning a hole in your checkbook.
Maribel picks out jeans, t-shirts and sunglasses, and also gem-encrusted rings and bracelets, which she says she can pump up with magic, 'like baby heartstones.' You try on a few floral crop-tops and corduroy bellbottoms, then head off to the music section. You impulse-buy a badass drum set, then look over the shelves of VHS-8-tracks. The Swans have a sorta '60's rock' genre that you've kind of gotten to like.
Beyond the windows run mostly-empty five-lane streets where vehicles cruise by. The cars are curvy, retro things, the mixed-babies of big-finned 50's and Volkswagen bugs. Across the road a department store display shows off mannequins in fancy Asiany dresses like K'Leto's mom wears. You can't shop there. You can't even step on the sidewalk.
Security, of course, stalks you like a shadow. Even though the windows are bulletproof and have roll-down shutters, this is the ground floor. Tama takes no chances. Aside from two of his elite 'Corporate Guard' gas-mask goons (looking like robot bulldogs, hulking as hell in tacticool armor) and Metalmancer Vek (snazzy in her gray and gold Power Ranger getup), there's eight guys with sub-machine guns patrolling the lobby, and a dozen more hidden away watching the cameras. And if anything does happen, gas-mask goon Captain Felix Alexandros assures you twenty reinforcements are ready to swarm the place in under a minute. And then there's the snipers on the outside balconies. And the 42nd floor hanger with its combat Cicadas and hoverbikes. And the fact that D'vaugnas Tower has over two hundred men with guns and ten wizards who's job it is to make sure nothing happens to you.
Doesn't that make you feel safe?
You and Maribel are in sporting goods, sitting on a bench tying on roller-blades, when Vek and the goons freeze, heads cocked as if listening.
"Received. Will do," Felix says in his electronic froggy voice. One of Vek's metal golems--just a five foot tall armored sheet on tires--tears down an aisle and squeals to a stop between you and the windows. You and Maribel get up, your wheeled feet coasting you across the carpet.
"What's going on?" Your heart races more from excitement than fear.
"Get down!" Felix snaps. The other goon, Sergeant Horus Longinus, lays big gloved hands on you and Maribel and ducks you behind the golem.
"What the fuck?" You struggle in his grip, your roller-blades sliding. In the distance, engines whine, sirens blare. Horus lets go, and the two goons train their assault carbines on the windows. Vek levitates to the side, her narrow, copper-tone face clenched beneath her iron-gray visor. A pouch opens on her back and twenty knitting needles file out and hover above her head. The razor sharp tips aim at the street outside.
"I want to see!" Maribel says. You both peek around the shield as five or six blue motorcycles zoom past the windows. Not fifty feet away, you can make out the fair-haired, pale-skinned elf riders decked out in shades of cobalt, turquoise, navy, and aquamarine. On the back of the rear bike, a tatted-up blonde mohawk girl in bluejeans and bikini top waves an arm behind her as steamy fog jets from her palm and floods the street.
The motorcycles ride out of view just as three orange, beefed-up-Herbie-mobiles roar by with sirens screaming and roof-lights spinning. The cars swerve in the pea soup, but continue the chase. The sounds fade; the street clears.
"Sec-Three secure. Out," Felix says. He and Horus lower their guns. Vek's darts return to her quiver, and her boots touch down.
Maribel jumps, her roller-blades floating above the floor. "That was so cool!"
"Damned Korgis!" Horus says, his robot voice a bass to Alex's baritone.
You sputter. Maribel giggles out, "Corgis?"
"Korigans," Felix says. "Their gangs are a real nuisance."
"Those were Castdowners," Vek says. "Not so bad."
Felix scoffs, the sound like a walkie-talkie click. "Police need to root them out . . . but I suppose I'll take them over rioters."
You roll in a circle, testing the wheels. "Tama mentioned those," you say. "'Leto too. Except she says they're protesters."
Horus and Vek laugh--the goon like a coughing Darth Vader, the elf like a wicked child. "You could say that," Felix says. "Protesters who burn and loot and beat people in the streets."
"Not that they do it here," Horus says. "Not anymore."
"They tried once." Felix points out the windows. "Thousands of them, waving banners, howling for Mr. D'vaugnas' blood. You'd think he was running for Doge again. But we held off until the bricks began to fly, then we gave them gas and rubber. Now they prefer soft targets. Small businesses. Low-income areas."
Horus chuckles. "Burn down their own ghettos. The Roggs are behind this, you know. Slipping coins in Unionist pockets. Got the immigrants dancing to their flute." ("Not all of them," Vek interrupts.) "Not to mention all those kids without a drop of sense in their brains."
"Tell me about it," Felix says. "Last tenday my nephew was lecturing me on how we Vendi are 'exploited' and need to 'tear off the shackles of our oppressors.' A full scholarship to Athena, and this is what they're teaching him? Breaks my heart."
"Funny," Vek says. "University kids, rich kids--Swanborn and getting led by the nose. But Korgs? Live in slums; everyone shits on them. And you heard what they did when the rioters got into Little Kaien? The Castdowners, the Fahas, the Ketts . . . all teamed up and beat the teeth out of them."
"I'll say this for Korgis," Horus says, "they ain't kin to commies."
"Small wonder why," Felix says. He turns, his bulging goggle eyes aimed at Vek. "I heard they broke bread with Tolos Nation."
Horus huffs. "That's a marriage made in hell."
"Tolos doesn't like foreigners," Vek says, "but we hate commies."
"Enemy of my enemy?" Felix asks.
"Very," Vek says. Her small mouth opens, hesitating. "I shouldn't say this. I just found out a couple days ago. But . . . my cousin was at Solovona Square."
Both goons stiffen, their bulldog masks gaping at her. Maribel's eyes widen. You break out in goosebumps, but you don't know why.
"You mean . . . ?" Felix asks.
"He was in the backseat." Vek's tiny gloved hands shoot finger-guns. "Boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!-boo!"
"Daughter Xoph!" Felix exclaims.
You're scared to ask, but: "What happened at Solovona Square?"
"What happened was commies got what they deserved!" Horus says.
To you Felix says, "I suppose you don't watch the news. It was a drive-by at a riot. Happened while we were in flight. Seven or eight dead."
"Nine dead," Vek says, raising her pointy chin proudly, "fifty-something wounded. But it wasn't just Tolos. Ketts were in the second car. We're fighting the same war."
Felix grunts, his mask glancing you and Maribel's way. "You're right. You shouldn't be saying this."
Vek leans against her steel golem. Her contented sneer bares little white teeth. "Tolos has people in the police; most are on our side anyway. They'll botch the investigation. Maybe frame some Unionists."
You nod stupidly, unsure what to say. Maribel hugs her arms, sinking inward. Bobbi would lay into these goons, especially Vek: "Your cousin is a mass-shooter, huh? And you're proud of that? Well, you're an asshole!" But what would be the point? Anyway, it's never a good idea to piss off guys with guns--or a wizard with Magneto powers.
Finally, you settle on: "This city . . . sounds kind of rough."
Maribel latches onto this. "Yeah. I don't want to go outside anymore."
"City's a pool of petrol," Felix says, "but I wouldn't worry. Mr. D'Vaugnas isn't going to let you out on the street."
Vek fixes you with a gaze, you and Maribel's faces reflected in her cold, polished visor. "And even if he does," the metalmancer says, "we're here to protect you."
You buy your loot (and write checks for the first time) and carry it in overflowing paper sacks (except for the drum set, which an employee promises to deliver tomorrow morning). Vek and the goons pass you and Maribel off to a pair of elf guard flunkies with pistols. Your sister waits until the two of you are several feet ahead of them.
"I don't like Vek," she whispers. "Or the stormtroopers."
"Me neither," you say.
"Sergeant Horrors reminds me of Uncle Stewart."
You snicker. "Yeah, I can see that." Your uncle was like an even more right-wing version of your dad. He even used to make your dad real angry with those 'Obama-is-a-monkey' Facebook posts. He did tone it down around Maribel, but it still bled through.
Still, you kind of don't want to judge these assholes too harshly. This isn't your world; you haven't even been outside. How do you know the protesters are any better?
Maribel decides to skate around the greenhouse and fly with the bat-dragons. You want to meet up with Bobbi, but you'd hate to ride up fifty-three floors only to find she's not in the suite.
~Hey Pookie, you know where Bobbi is?
A yellowed page of Russiany-looking Swan text appears in your mind. The scenes slides to walls of looming bookcases as Pookie looks up from his chair. You will the images away, giving your twin back his privacy. There's a lot of times you wouldn't want him watching through your eyes.
~I think she's with Ayama. They mentioned going to the computer lab.
~Okay, thanks!
Maribel rides an elevator to the 31st floor; you ride one down to sub-basement 6. The Cyclops takes up sub-basements 7-13, but you're not allowed there. There's a picture of the A.I. on the cover of Tama's book: a great streamlined bulk, shaped like a 1940's locomotive, with a single red eye in the middle and lightning arcing between its antennae. It looks like an evil supercomputer god, but Alan says it's actually pretty friendly, though it speaks in a creepy machine monotone.
If you push for it, maybe you can visit Cyclops one day, but until then it's just the Computer Lab for you. Which sucks. The Grid is a sorta-internet, but it's really boring, with no Youtube or tumblr or Instagram. As far as you can tell, it's just nerds typing codes at each other.
The elevator doors open, and you walk down a white, fluorescent-lit hallway, your elf-guard following behind. He waits outside as you enter through the open doors. A soupy ozone heat hits you, even though overhead ACs blow full-blast up and down the huge supermarket-size lab. The white whirring of fans mixes with the heavy electric hum of the rows and rows of looming computer banks with their thousands of blinking lights and spinning tape spools.
Bobbi and Ayama sit in the center with their backs to you, huddled around one of the old-timey terminals.
"Hey, Bobbi. Did some retail therapy." You lift the bags and spin, modeling your crop-top and disco pants.
They turn in their plastic Jetson-chairs. "Looking sexy, Babe," Bobbi says and waves you over with her beer. "You got to see this!" A half-burnt cigarette dangles on her lips. She's gotten out of the habit of wearing her leather jacket, and now just has on a pair jeans and a damp wife-beater that shows off her muscular, inked-up arms (and huggable love-handles). The pompadour has long gone to seed, and in this sweltering room her black hair hangs as a wet mop, her bangs drooping down her forehead.
Ayama greets you with a 'what's up?' eyebrow shrug, her dark eyes shining below the red sweatband that makes a mushroom of her Afro. She's pretty in a tight, lanky way, her tank top and shorts clinging to a sprinter's body with muscles like cables running under her black skin. Bobbi sure spends a lot of time with her.
"What you guys up to?" You pull up a chair, wedging yourself between them and giving Bobbi a quick sweaty kiss (and catching a mouthful of Lucky Strike breath). The terminal is a clunky keyboard and monitor setup that reminds you of your grandpa's ancient 80's Apple. Green text commands read up and down the screen (Swannish goes up to down, not left to right). You can understand the Russiany-looking letters and numbers, but half of it's gibberish.
"Pat's here," Bobbi whispers over the ambient noise.
You stupidly look around the lab. You keep your voice low. "You mean like--?"
"In the city," Bobbi adds. "Just flew in this afternoon."
Ayama motions at the screen. "The Whirligig's at the airport--"
"Whirli-what?"
"Pat's cutter," Ayama says. "She's logged as the Rocinante, but I have a source in Customs--a fellow Separatist--who's been in the hanger. Paint's different, but he swears it's her. No other ship has those custom jet pods."
"Okay," you say. "We knew she'd come by sooner or later. Tama said so himself."
"But why would she repaint her ship?" Bobbi asks you. "And that's not all."
Ayama's slender fingers make clackity-clack sounds on the keyboard. Swannish text messages scroll on the screen. "I have another source in Archives. An agent of the People's Hidden Army. She spotted Pat and Colonel Grung at the Hall of Records. Grung was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and Pat a wig and makeup to look Vendi--"
You sputter. "She was wearing blackface?"
Bobbi clenches her cigarette in a cringed grin. Ayama goes blank at the reference, but then laughs. "Obviously it wasn't a very good disguise. But the interesting thing is what they were there for. My source saw them with maps of Sologoth Underground."
"Is that like, London Underground?" you ask.
"But older," Ayama says, "and deeper. Our subways date back two centuries, but there's also the Second Age Catacombs, and before that the sewers built by the Meeros. And way down there's the really old tunnels, Swatic crypt stuff from thousands of years ago."
"We think 'Leto uses the Underground to sneak out of the Tower," Bobbi says.
"It fits," Ayama says. "These basements descend far. If 'Leto found a breech in one of these walls, it might lead to somewhere."
Bobbi swigs her beer. "And if 'Leto can sneak out . . ."
". . . then Pat can sneak in," you finish. A worm wiggles in you; heat and ozone stir to nausea. Isn't this what you wanted?
"And there's more," Bobbi says. "Professor Poseidon was spotted in Fish Town."
Ayama scrolls to new text. "I have a source there, a member of the Worker's Liberation Vanguard. She says the Professor was slumming in a tavern by the sewage treatment plant. He'd dyed his scales blue and was wearing an old sunhat and collar-coat, but she worked by his side a few years back, during the Mu Incursion. It was him."
"And this is the clincher," Bobbi says.
A white grin splits Ayama's dark face. "He was asking about the next protest," she says. "When was it going to be? Where? Who was going to do what? No one told him anything, of course, but the Professor might be the most powerful gnostic in a million mile radius. Makes Ms. Galanaba look monkey-brained. Whoever he asks will think of the answer, and for him they may as well blurt it out."
"So let's put it together," Bobbi says. "Pat and her gang are in town--incognito. They're looking at maps of Underground. And they're asking about the next protest."
The pieces lock together. "She's going to spring us during a riot!"
"Protest," Ayama corrects. "But that's what I'd guess too. At least your brother, anyway. He's the World-Jumper."
You try to picture it: an iconic 1930's pulp heroine, a Vendi commando, a fish hydromancer, Nicky Tesla's tech-wizard son, and a teenage elf paladin . . . all storming D'vaugnas Tower like it's the Death Star and Eddie's Princess Leia.
You wince. "Yeah . . . Eddie's kind of on Team Tama."
Ayama's eyes narrow, her mouth twisting thoughtfully. "There's a protest in three days."
Bobbi lights another cigarette. She tugs your elbow. "We need to talk. Oh, and 'Yama, we'd appreciate it if you kept this under your hat."
"Under my hat?"
"Figure of speech. Means keep a secret."
"Secret?" She gestures at the monitor. "All I've been teaching you is basic operating commands."
Bobbi pats her shoulder. "You're a good woman."
The hallway is a refrigerator after the sauna of the lab. Your guard is nowhere in sight--probably hanging out by the elevators and stairs. Bobbi leads you along, your hands taken up with shopping bags.
"We need to tell the others," she breathes in your ear..
But the worm wiggles again. "Bobbi, I don't know . . . ." You jerk your chin at the bathroom, and the two of your push inside.
It's gleaming, antiseptic and empty. The AC is a feeble sigh--not loud enough--so you dig out your phone and type furiously, your tongue pressed in the corner of your mouth: Maybe we should like lay off telling the others? Or maybe not? Idk. But I mean Eddie is not going to want to be rescued. So if we tell him he is just going to tell Tama. And then what?
Bobbi whips out her own phone. Blunt nail-bitten thumbs beat across her screen: you think eddie will snitch on pat?
If Pat is going to kidnap him? Yes! And then Tama will ambush Pat when she sneaks in and might get her killed. And what about Yama? Tama will look into how she found out and he will learn she uses his computers to chat with commies. And Tama hates commies and so do his employees.
You type out a quick rundown on what happened while you were shopping. Bobbi glares at your text, sucking her Lucky to the filter. She spits it out, and her boot stomps it into the spotless linoleum. Her nostrils blow twin funnels of smoke. fucking fascists! yamas revolution needs to win and beat these assholes into the pavement!
You frown. Aside from LGBT-stuff you never pay much attention to politics. But like communism? Like Russians and China and Cuba? And I think the Dragons were commies too. And there was those guys who put the Korgis in camps.
Bobbi gives a lopsided smirk. yama will talk your ear off on this. the dragons were fascists basically elf-nazis. not commies. and assal was just a third world dictatorship with a hammer n sickle hat. swans just paint them all with the commie brush. and yama will tell you even the roggu arent real commies. i guess theyre like elf soviets.
Real communism hasnt been tried? I heard that before.
Bobbi sighs. look i dont agree with half of what yama believes. but the other side is twice as bad. i told you how shitty it is out there.
You nod. She has brought it up: starvation slave wages, homeless dying in the streets, hospitals harvesting poor people's organs. That sucks, you guess. And megacorps practically run the government, but wasn't that kind of true in your own world? Okay, it's a cyberpunk dystopia, but what are you supposed to do about it?
And there's too many corners to this. Too many blind alleys. What do you even want? Okay then if we tell Eddie he will tell Tama and we throw Pat and Yama under the bus. But! If we keep quite then Pat might actually 'rescue' Eddie. Do we want that? Do we *really* want that?
Bobbi sucks her teeth. i dont like hiding things and i dont like you having to hide things from your family. it aint right. but youre right about it hurting pat and yama. we need to keep quiet or maybe even have yamas sources contact pat so we can help plan it right. and eddie shouldnt be drinking tamas kool aid anyway. tamas a dangerous crazy creep bond villain with his fucking lovecraft ritual bullshit. pat stealing eddie will be for his own good.
You never liked 'for your own good' arguments. Maybe Eddie should make his own decisions? And what if she rescues him without us? We might never see him again! And what about Aunt Esha? And is Pat really going to be better? Is Tama really that bad? This is an important decision, Bobbi! We can't just hothead our way through it! We have to think it through. Make the right call.
Bobbi looks down, paces across the bathroom. Her fingers flex, and she flicks back greasy bangs. Finally, she faces you and cups your cheeks in calloused palms.
"We're in this together, Babe," she whispers.
You touch her wrists, stroking her muscular arms, and swallow, wishing you could shrug away this stupid burden. Do you ask Pookie? He'll be for telling Eddie, no matter what. Ask Maribel? She's Team Pat, but she likes Mage Tethys. What about K'Leto? What would she say?
And what about you? What do you want? Tama? You like the fat paychecks but miss your freedom, and you aren't a big fan of Lost Cities of Doom. Pat? Wormholes of Doom are just as bad, and you don't give a shit about Skeletor. Neither? Where would you go? What would you do?
So many decisions, so little time. You really could smoke a bowl right now, but even that's running out.
Bobbi's warm brown eyes probe into you, imploring. "What do we do?"
End Chapter Time
November 29, 1944, 11:30 PM (Local Calendar: 11 Kruses, 4A 0:5, 19/35)
November 29, 1944, 11:30 PM (Local Calendar: 11 Kruses, 4A 0:5, 19/35)
Once again, another novella of an update. I know I keep saying the next chapter won't be so long. One day it'll be true. I think I just underestimated the wordcount required for the two 'story times' (K'Jala's and Widari's) and introducing Sologoth and all it's plot hooks. The K'Jala story time was unlocked through the POV character taking Poke your Broca and investing 2 FP into Tama, K'Jala or K'Leto. Anyway, voting is open one month, ending on July 26th.
This will be a volatile vote, since the votes conceivably can go against the interest of another member of the group. Different party members want different things. I'm not sure how this will go down.
Party Skill Increases
Burt has gained Language: Toloran (Accented)
Burt has gained Skill in: Fencing
Burt has gained Skill in: First Aid
Burt has gained Skill in: History (Occult)
Burt has gained Skill in: Meditation
Burt has gained Skill in: Mental Strength
Burt has unlocked Perk: Mind to Mind
Burt has unlocked Perk: Twin Telepathy
Burt's Character Sheet
Herbert "Pookie" Springwell
Burt has gained Skill in: Fencing
Burt has gained Skill in: First Aid
Burt has gained Skill in: History (Occult)
Burt has gained Skill in: Meditation
Burt has gained Skill in: Mental Strength
Burt has unlocked Perk: Mind to Mind
Burt has unlocked Perk: Twin Telepathy
Burt's Character Sheet
Herbert "Pookie" Springwell
[/B]
- Age: 19
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6'2
- Weight: 170lbs
- Hair: Blonde
- Eyes: Blue
- Bookish, lanky. Wears hornrim glasses.
- Strength: Good
- Dexterity: Above-Average
- Intelligence: Near Genius
- Perception: Good
- Willpower: Good
- Health: Good
- Academic (Moderate bonus to academic and research-related skills).
- Antiquarian (Moderate bonus to history, literature and other related skills)
- Language Talent (Note: Burt isn't particularly aware of this)
- Slightly Nearsighted (Wears glasses)
- Bookworm
- Worries a lot
- Skeptical, levelheaded
- A bit of a square
- Special bond with twin sister.
New Skills are Yellow.
Languages
Languages
- English (Native)
- Latin (Fluent)
- 'Germanese' (Accented, Written)
- Toloran (Accented)
- Computer Operation +5
- First Aid +6 (***)
- History (America, 19th and 20th Century) +5
- History (Occult) +2
- Literature +6
- Medicine +5
- Meditation +0
- Mental Strength +2
- Research +8
- Writing +6
- Driving (Automobile) +2
- Fencing ---
- Guns (Shotgun) +1
- Muy Thuy Kickboxing +1
- Minor wound to chest (pellet) (mostly healed)
- Superficial wound to upper right arm (pellet) (mostly healed)
Helen has gained Language: Toloran
Helen has gained Skill: Fencing
Helen has gained Skill: Guns (Pistol)
Helen has gained Skill: Meditation
Helen has gained Perk: Mind to Mind
Helen has gained Perk: Twin Telepathy
Helen's Character Sheet
Helen "Goosie" Springwell
(Hebert's twin sister)
Helen has gained Skill: Fencing
Helen has gained Skill: Guns (Pistol)
Helen has gained Skill: Meditation
Helen has gained Perk: Mind to Mind
Helen has gained Perk: Twin Telepathy
Helen's Character Sheet
Helen "Goosie" Springwell
(Hebert's twin sister)
- Age: 19
- Gender: Female
- Height: 5'9
- Weight: 130lbs
- Hair: Blonde
- Eyes: Light brown
- Pretty, lanky, tomboy
- Strength: Average
- Dexterity: Very Good
- Intelligence: Bright
- Perception: Good
- Willpower: Good
- Health: Good
- Artificer (Slight bonus to mechanical related skills).
- Musical Ability (Slight bonus to music-related skills)
- Natural Athlete (Moderate Bonus to athletic skills)
- Pothead
- College dropout
- Lesbian
- Tomboy, snarky, reckless
- A little unstable
- Special bond with twin brother.
New Skills are Yellow
Languages
Languages
- English (Native)
- Toloran (Accented)
- Artist (Drawing) +2
- Computer Operation +4
- Mechanic (Classic Automobiles) +4
- Mechanic (Generators) +2
- Meditation ---
- Musical Instrument (Drums) +3
- Bicycling +8
- Driving (Automobile) +5
- Driving (Motorcycle) +6
- Fencing +3
- Guns (Pistol) +4
- Guns (Rifle) +4
- Muy Thuy Kickboxing +5
- Skateboarding +7
- Sports (Softball) +7
Eddie gained Language: Toloran
Eddie has gained Skill in Computer Programming
Eddie has gained Skill in Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Eddie has gained Skill in Ritual Magic
Eddie has gained Skill in Runology (Dwarven)
Eddie has gained Skill in Runology (Jahannan)
Eddie has unlocked Perk: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Eddie's has Leveled Up his Occultist Talent
Eddie's Character Sheet
Edward Springwell
(Herbert's little brother)
Eddie has gained Skill in Computer Programming
Eddie has gained Skill in Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
Eddie has gained Skill in Ritual Magic
Eddie has gained Skill in Runology (Dwarven)
Eddie has gained Skill in Runology (Jahannan)
Eddie has unlocked Perk: Story Time with Uncle Widari
Eddie's has Leveled Up his Occultist Talent
Eddie's Character Sheet
Edward Springwell
(Herbert's little brother)
- Age: 16
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6'1
- Weight: 140lbs
- Hair: Dark blond (dyed black)
- Eyes (Blue)
- Lip rings. Skinny, gloomy teenager
- Strength: Average
- Dexterity: Above-Average
- Intelligence: Genius
- Perception: Very Good
- Willpower: Good
- Health: Good
- Wizard (World-Jumper)
- Computer Wizard (Slight bonus to computer related skills)
- Occultist (Moderate bonus to Occult related skills)
- Poet (Moderate bonus to writing-related skills)
- Straw Nihilist
- Gloomy, sullen, snarky
- Plays pen-n-paper RPGs
- Drinks cough syrup
- Kind of lazy
New Skills are Yellow
Languages
Languages
- English (Native)
- Toloran (Accented)
- Computer Operation (Tech Level 8 (modern)) +6
- Computer Programming (Tech Level 7x) +2
- Fast Talk +3
- Hobbies (role-playing games, video games, science-fiction novels) +6
- Mental Strength +3
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics) +2
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation) +3
- Runology (Dwarven) +2
- Runology (Jahannan) +2
- Writing +9
- Bicycling +2
Maribel has gained Language: Toloran
Maribel has gained Skill in: Aeromancy
Maribel has gained Skill in Dreams
Maribel has gained Skill in Mental Strength
Maribel has gained Skill in Runology (Jahannan)
Maribel has Leveled Up Talent: Aeromancy
Maribel's Character Sheet
Maribel Springwell
(Hebert's little sister (adopted))
Maribel has gained Skill in: Aeromancy
Maribel has gained Skill in Dreams
Maribel has gained Skill in Mental Strength
Maribel has gained Skill in Runology (Jahannan)
Maribel has Leveled Up Talent: Aeromancy
Maribel's Character Sheet
Maribel Springwell
(Hebert's little sister (adopted))
- Age: 12
- Gender: Female
- Height: 4'8
- Weight: 80lbs
- Hair: Black
- Eyes: Dark Brown
- Little girl. Black. Usually keeps hair in ponytail.
- Strength: Weak
- Dexterity: Good
- Intelligence: Near Genius
- Perception: Good
- Willpower: Very Good
- Health: Good
- Wizard +1 (Aeromancer, possibly a minor World-Jumper)
- Psientist (Heavy bonus for Psi related skills)
- Curious
- Gets into mischief
- Interested in the paranormal
- Likes video games, anime
- Thinks Helen is cool
New Skills are Yellow
Languages
Languages
- English (Native)
- Toloran (Accented)
- Computer Operation +5
- Dreams +1
- Hobbies (anime, video games, and the paranormal lore) +5
- Magic (Aeromancy) +3
- Mental Strength +7
- Runology (Jahannan) ---
- Bicycling +5
- Driving (Motorcycle, dirtbike) +4
- Skateboard +3
- Sports (Soccer) +4
- Tae Kwon Do +3
- Moderate wound to right hand (2nd degree burn) (Almost healed)
- Moderate wound to left hand (2nd degree burn) (Almost healed)
Roberta has gained Language: Toloran
Roberta has gained Skill in Computer Operation (Tech Level 7x)
Roberta has gained Skill in Guns (Pistol)
Roberta has gained Skill in Mechanic (Robotics, Tech Level 7x)
Roberta has unlocked Perk: Phreaking the Grid
Roberta "Bobbi" Zacarias
(Helen's Girlfriend)
Roberta has gained Skill in Computer Operation (Tech Level 7x)
Roberta has gained Skill in Guns (Pistol)
Roberta has gained Skill in Mechanic (Robotics, Tech Level 7x)
Roberta has unlocked Perk: Phreaking the Grid
Roberta "Bobbi" Zacarias
(Helen's Girlfriend)
- Age: 22
- Gender: Female
- Height: 5'7
- Weight: 160lbs
- Hair: Black
- Eyes: Brown
- Butch, 'bad boy' style, tattoos
- Strength: Above-Average
- Dexterity: Good
- Intelligence: Clever
- Perception: Above-Average
- Willpower: Good
- Health: Good
- Artificer (Moderate bonus to mechanical related skills)
- Driver's Reflexes (Slight bonus to driving related skills)
- Musical Ability(Slight bonus to music-related skills)
- Pothead (not as much as Helen)
- Addiction: Nicotine
- Reckless
- Butch lesbian
- Owns a restored 1970 Ford Galaxie 500.
- Maribel thinks she's cool.
You and Eddie don't
New Skills are Yellow
Languages
Languages
- English (Native)
- Spanish (Accented, Spoken), (Fluent, Written)
- Toloran (Accented)
- Computer Operation (TL 8) +3
- Computer Operation (TL 7x) +3
- Hobbies (Prog Rock, Southern Rock, 80's music) +4
- Hobbies (Classic Automobiles) +5
- Mechanic (Classic and Modern Automobiles (TL 7 & 8)) +7
- Mechanic (Classic Motorcycles (TL7)) +6
- Mechanics (Generators TL8) +5
- Mechanics (Robotics TL7x) +5
- Musical Instrument (Guitar) +4
- Streetwise +2
- Bicycling +5
- Muy Thuy Kickboxing +5
- Driving (Automobile, Motorcycle) +6
- Guns (Pistol) +3
- Skateboard +4
Evidence Ayama uncovered suggests Patricia Savage and her crimefighting gang (Colonel Grung, Professor Poseidon, Nicky Junior and Dame Csenia) are planning a rescue/kidnapping of your group (or possible just Eddie) during a protest/riot planned three days from now. Eddie seems to be on Team Tama, and if you tell Eddie, he may tell Tama, which would endanger Pat and may cost Ayama her internship. And Pat may only rescue/kidnap Eddie, separating you from your brother. Currently, only you and Bobbi know of Pat's supposed plans. Do you:
[ ] Tell Eddie and the others, regardless of the consequences. You may not agree with what Eddie wants, but he should be able to make his own decisions.
[ ] Tell Eddie, but ask him not to tell Tama (this may not go over so well).
[ ] Tell no one. Let Pat try whatever she's going to do. You don't want to throw Pat and Ayama under the bus, and Eddie shouldn't be hanging out with a supervillain anyway. If she rescues him, it'll be for his own good.
[ ] Tell no one, and ask Ayama to use her sources to contact Pat. That way, you can help her plan the rescue from the inside. (Requires Roberta and/or Helen to purchase Ayama's Perk: A 5th Column is You).
[ ] Write in.
Sologoth is a city of political unrest and racial tension. Not that there's anything you can do about it, but do you have any thoughts or plans?
[ ] Bobbi is right. The system is corrupt and needs to be torn down. Viva la revolución!
[ ] You haven't even stepped outside. How do you know the other side is any better? Besides, not your world, not your problem.
[ ] Write in.
Eddie will do the Ritual (whatever that is) in three days. Do you want to do anything about this?
[ ] Write in.
K'Leto knows a way to sneak out of D'vaugnas Tower. Perhaps you can learn this from her? (Bear in mind K'Leto is going back to school in a few days).
[ ] Buddy up more to K'Leto (Requires K'Leto's Perk: Slipping the Leash).
[ ] No, not right now.
[ ] Write in.
Goosie will soon run out of marijuana. What do?
[ ] Buddy up with Valree and get some from her. (Requires 1 FP investment with Valree)
[ ] Buddy up to the hippy hydromancer Ros Everich (Requires 1 FP investment with Ros)
[ ] Stop smoking so much weed, you pothead!
[ ] Write in.
You have decisions to make. Who do you side with?
[ ] As narcissist megalomaniacs go, Tama isn't so bad, and his Duellona Expedition actually sounds kind of fun. Let's go Team Tama!
[ ] Pat Savage is a pulp hero of renown, and stopping Ironbone is vitally important for the whole Ring. Let's join the Pat Party!
[ ] Write in.
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[ ] Write in.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[ ] Burt
[ ] Helen (Default)
[ ] Eddie
[ ] Maribel
[ ] Roberta
Assigning Party Member Points
Note 1: This votes assumes three days between now and the next chapter, as opposed to the week covered in this chapter. As such, party member will receive fewer points to spend this voting period.
Note 2: Due to the complex nature of the vote, all votes in this section must be in plan format rather than the mix-n-match free-for-all votes usually are. The plan with the most votes will win.
Note 3: If you have any questions, feel free to ask!
Each Party Member (Burt, Helen, Eddie, Maribel and Roberta) has 1 Skill Point (SP) and 2 Friendship Points (FP).
The Skill Point (SP) can be spent on any skill you can reasonably study or practice while in the D'vaugnas Tower. For mental skills there's the library; for physical skills, there's the gym, shooting range, etc.
Friendship Points (FP) can be spent on the characters listed in the section below. These represent the time the Party Member spends with these characters, with each point offering a skill boost (chosen from a list of skills different for each character). A Party Member can spend both FP on one character or divide them between separate characters. A Party Member spending 2 FP on a character (including adding this chapter and the previous chapter) unlocks a character's special Perk. If a character has multiple Perks, the Party Member can only unlock one--you can unlock additional perks in later chapters as you invest more FP.
Some Perks can be 'split-cost,' with two different Party Members unlocking it by investing 1 FP each. The Perks are indicated as such.
Do note, however, that you only have complete control over Helen and can only influence your family. They will have one point (either a SP or FP) locked on a choice of their choosing. You can decide where to assign the other points.
You have three days before the Ritual and possibly Pat Savage's rescue/kidnapping attempt. How do you want to use that time?
Helen
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: [Assign 2 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: K'Leto D'vaugnas [2], K'Jala Galanaba [1]
Perks Unlocked: Mind to Mind (K'Leto), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Twin Telepathy (K'Leto)
Burt
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP)* [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: K'Jala Galanaba [2], Tama D'vaugnas [1]
Perks Unlocked: Mind to Mind (K'Jala), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Twin Telepathy (K'Jala)
*-This (locked) FP investment will give Burt 2 FP on Tama, thus allowing a Tama Perk to be selected. If you don't select a Perk, Burt will by default choose Under Corporate Supervision.
Eddie
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP)* [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Dr. Widari zun Eirohm [2], Tama D'vaugnas [1]
Perks Unlocked: Poke Your Broca (K'Jala), Story Time with Uncle Widari (Widari)
*-This (locked) FP investment gives Eddie 2 FP on Tama, thus allowing a Tama Perk to be selected. If you don't select a Perk, Eddie will by default choose Forbidden Knowledge.
Maribel
Skills: [Assign 1 SP to any skill you can reasonably train while in the Tower]
Friendships: Mage Tethys (1 FP) [Assign 1 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Mage Tethys [3]
Perks Unlocked: Poke Your Broca (K'Jala).
Note: New Aeromancy skills unlocked! (See Mage Tethys).
Roberta
Skills: Computer Operation (TL 7x)
Friendships: [Assign 2 FP, choosing from the list below]
Previous FP invested: Ayama Kokotomi [3]
Perks Unlocked: Phreaking the Grid (Ayama), Poke Your Broca (K'Jala)
Characters You Can Befriend
Note: Traits and background are common knowledge and are things you can learn from a brief conversation from Dr. Turing or other characters.
Sir Tama Dax D'vaugnas: President and CEO of Diagnus Corp, ex-husband to K'Jala, father of K'Leto, philanthropist, futurist, computer and robotics magnate, occultist, archaeologist, adventurer, megalomaniac
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Height: 5'4
Weight: 120lbs
Hair: Graying black, receding, with widow's peak
Eyes: Black
A lanky, middle-age elf with a deep olive complexion.
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Height: 5'4
Weight: 120lbs
Hair: Graying black, receding, with widow's peak
Eyes: Black
A lanky, middle-age elf with a deep olive complexion.
- Net worth of ♕10 billion ($76 billion)
- Invented digital computer
- Attended D'shalsky Academy, was member of the Student Council
- Was reputedly part of the Abraxas Cult, a fencing club of some sort
- Mother diagnosed with lung cancer, commits suicide (1904)
- Never attended university
- Financed and fought alongside a mercenary army against communist forces during the Assalan Civil War (1910-1913)
- Met his first wife
- Rescued hundreds during the Ky'lan Genocide
- Executed hundreds of prisoners of war (allegedly)
- Led his Corporate Fleet against the Aesiran Republic during the Great War (1925-1939)
- Spent much of the war looting magical artifact from primitives
- His destroyer, the Snowy Rose, was sunk by Aesirans in 1936. Mage Tethys saved his life.
- Frenemies with Doc Savage (Diagnus is partnered with Doc's company, Hidalgo)
- Knighted by Toloran King Artara II for his services during the war (1939)
- Ran a bid for Doge of Sologoth on the Corporate Republican Party ticket (1940)
- Lost in a landslide to Traditionalist candidate Alred Nuvan
- Claims the election was rigged
- Currently under investigation for tax evasion, industrial sabotage and violating monopoly laws
- Calls taxes 'organized extortion'
- Hates communism, socialism and unions
- "A free market means a free people!"
- Outspoken atheist
- Author of The End of History: An Exploration of the Future of Pan-Humanity
- Advocate of the Sologoth Independence Movement
- Advocate of Euthanasia Reform. Believes there are too many suicides
- Highly critical of CSK's Racial Purity Laws
- Claims tobacco causes cancer
- Master level fencer
- Master level martial artist
- Expert of Vendian Egyptology
- Vegetarian
- Teetotaler (most of the time)
- Loves his fox Nee-nee
- Don't bring up his first wife's suicide
- First cousin to Vulas Vee D'vaugnas, 13th Baron Vaugnas
- 10th in line to the title of Baron Vaugnas of Rupengotha (Kingdom of Toloran, Confederation of Swan Kingdoms)
- Married three times (once widowed, twice divorced)
- Has nine (known) biological children with seven women (three are legitimate)
- Has an adopted daughter
- Has six fingers on both hands, six toes on both feet (a genetic mutation from the Vendi Atomic War)
- Vestigial telepathy and psychokinesis
- Was first to undergo the Ritual
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Computer Operation
- Computer Programming
- Engineering (Electronics)
- Engineering (Robotics)
- History (Occult)
- Mathematics (Computer Science)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation)
- Runology (Jahannan School)
- Fencing
- Martial Arts
- Forbidden Knowledge: (2 FP to unlock) Party Member will gain access to his collection of Eldritch Literature.
- Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel). - Under Corporate Supervision: (2 FP to unlock) Tama will agree to let you leave Diagnus Tower into Sologoth, but only with an armed escort of guards.
K'Jala Galanaba, Secretary General of Diagnus Corp., Gnostic (Telepath and Clairvoyant), ex-wife of Tama, mother of K'Leto
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Korigan
Age: 35
Gender: Female
Height: 4'6
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Long blonde
Eyes: Icy blue
A beautiful elf woman with a cool demeanor. Has runic tattoos to enhance her powers
Ethnicity: Korigan
Age: 35
Gender: Female
Height: 4'6
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Long blonde
Eyes: Icy blue
A beautiful elf woman with a cool demeanor. Has runic tattoos to enhance her powers
- Known to be cold and calculating
- Runs the day to day operations of Diagnus Corps.
- Confederate Royal Sorcerer Corps (CRSC) (1926-1930) Rank: Lieutenant
- Diagnus Corp. Security Assets (1930-1939)
- Diagnus Corp. Secretary General (1939-)
- Parents were Korigan refugees who fled the Aesiran Republic to neighboring Assal.
- As an infant, she and her parents were rescued by Tama during the Ky'lan Genocide (Assalan Civil War: 1910-1913)
- Christian (Zobartic sect)
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for fourteen years
- Devoted to Tama -- but not blind to his faults
- Tolerates Valree Zarhara
- Was third to undergo the Ritual
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Meditation (Prerequisite for other skills)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- (Has other skills, but they require Perk: Mind to Mind to be unlocked first)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel). - Under Corproate Supervision: (2 FP to unlock) She will convince Tama to allow the party to leave the Diagnus Tower under security supervision.
Dr. Widari zun Eirohm: Chief Technology Consultant for Diagnus Corp, runologist, alchemist, mathematician, occultist, explorer
Race: Dwarf/Morlock
Ethnicity: Eirohm Clan
Age: 110 (chronologically) 96 (biologically) (the human equivalent of about 30)
Gender: Hermaphrodite (most dwarves go by he/him)
Height: 4'2
Weight: 150lbs
Hair: None
Eyes: 3, pink and beady
A being vaguely resembling a gray, hairless, overweight chimpanzee, with three pink eyes and squidlike hands and feet.
Ethnicity: Eirohm Clan
Age: 110 (chronologically) 96 (biologically) (the human equivalent of about 30)
Gender: Hermaphrodite (most dwarves go by he/him)
Height: 4'2
Weight: 150lbs
Hair: None
Eyes: 3, pink and beady
A being vaguely resembling a gray, hairless, overweight chimpanzee, with three pink eyes and squidlike hands and feet.
- Was part of Uncle Grubb and Aunt Esha's Duellona Expedition
- Due to a time dilation effect, skipped fifteen years while in Duellona
- Family member of the wealthy Eirohm Clan, famous for Eirohm Arms
- Author of Diamonds in the Mist: Imperial Count Gerbern's Expedition to the Autumn City (3A 7:15-7:30)
- Can be rather talkative once you get him going
- Diagnus Corp. Chief Technology Consultant (1927-)
- Is considered an odd duck even by dwarf standards
- Second to undergo the Ritual
- Sensitive to light
- Require special fungoid diet
- Smell funky
- Switch biological sex every few years
- Lay eggs
- Lifespan of about 250 years
- Stronger then most humans
- Excellent fine motor skills, but clumsy overall
- Contact Geomancy: can manipulate stone by touch
- Tend to be overly pedantic
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Alchemy
- Mathematics (Pure)
- Mathematics (Theoretical)
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation)
- Runology (Jahannan School)
- Runology (Dwarven School)
Director Cornelius Esau: Chief Security Officer of Diagnus Corp, Director of Diagnus Corps Security Assets
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Vendi-Israelite
Age: 63
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3
Weight: 240lbs
Hair: Bald
Eyes: (only one) Dark brown
A tall, imposing black man with a scarred face. The left lens of his wire-rim spectacles is blacked out.
Ethnicity: Vendi-Israelite
Age: 63
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3
Weight: 240lbs
Hair: Bald
Eyes: (only one) Dark brown
A tall, imposing black man with a scarred face. The left lens of his wire-rim spectacles is blacked out.
- Confederate Royal Army, Heavy Infantry (1899-1909) Rank: Captain
- Led Tama's mercenary army during the Assalan Civil War (1910-1913)
- Diagnus Corp. Chief Security Officer, Director of Security Assets (1913-)
- Fought as a Corporate Privateer in the Great War (1925-1939)
- Lost his eye in 1936 when Aesirans sank the Diagnus Corp. destroyer, Snowy Rose
- Loyal friend to Tama, but thinks his interest in the occult is silly
- Military history buff
- Low-key/moderate supporter of the Vendi Separatist Movement
- Tama gave him a custom battlesuit, but really he's too old for that
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for thirty-four years
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
More Dakka: (2 FP to unlock) He'll allow you to train with shotguns, rifles and sub-machine guns.
- History (CSK, Military)
- Strategy (Air)
- Strategy (Land)
- Tactics
- Pistols
More Dakka: (2 FP to unlock) He'll allow you to train with shotguns, rifles and sub-machine guns.
K'Leto Lax D'vaugnas: Daughter of Tama and K'Jala
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Toloran/Korigan
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Height: 4'9
Weight: 65lbs
Hair: Black pixie-cut, blue highlights
Eyes: Black
A lanky teenage elf with an olive complexion.
Ethnicity: Toloran/Korigan
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Height: 4'9
Weight: 65lbs
Hair: Black pixie-cut, blue highlights
Eyes: Black
A lanky teenage elf with an olive complexion.
- Student at D'shalsky Academy, member of the Student Council
- Rumored to the part of the Abraxas dueling cult
- Rebel
- Competitive jet racer
- Airbike enthusiast
- Smokes, but keeps it a secret from her father
- Master fencer
- Master martial artist
- Master pilot
- Friends with Pat Savage, went on an adventure with her once
- Hates Valree
- Hates Vasgo music. Thinks it's bourgeois.
- Listens to Zlak music, much to her father's annoyance
- Plays guitar
- Vestigial Telepathy and Psychokinesis
- Sympathetic towards the Peoples' Revolution Party
- Twelve fingers, twelve toes
- First cousin once removed to Vulas Vee D'vaugnas, 13th Baron Vaugnas
- 13th in line to the title of Baroness Vaugnas of Rupengotha (Kingdom of Toloran, Confederation of Swan Kingdoms)
- Used to be close to her father, but they've grown apart
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Fencing
- Martial Arts
- Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel). - Slipping the Leash: (2 FP to unlock, can be purchased via Split-Cost) Once you get to Sologoth, she'll show you a way to sneak out of Diagnus Tower so the party can enter the city without a security escort.
- Bonus Perk: The Underworld (Free with Slipping the Leash -- but not if purchased via Split-Cost) - She also has a criminal contacts, and can get you access to an underground nightclub.
Valree Zarhara: Tama's mistress, erotic model, photographer, artist, aspiring film director
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Verveenian
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Height: 4'9
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Waist-length auburn, feathered
Eyes: Hazel
A beautiful young elf woman, elvish even by elf standards. Rather snobbish looking.
Ethnicity: Verveenian
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Height: 4'9
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Waist-length auburn, feathered
Eyes: Hazel
A beautiful young elf woman, elvish even by elf standards. Rather snobbish looking.
- Developed a crush on Tama during his run for Doge of Sologoth; her public endorsement of him hurt her career
- Likes nightclubs
- Likes Vasco music
- Doesn't get along with K'Leto
- Loves Nee-nee
- From a small town in Verveenia
- Dabbles in psychoactive substances
- Sometimes gets Tama to take them too
- Has an interest in the occult, though Tama keeps her out of the loop
- People think she's an airhead, but she really is a talented photographer
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Cinematography
- Dancing
- Photography
- Under Corporate Supervision: (2 FP to unlock) She will convince Tama to allow the party to leave the Diagnus Tower under security supervision.
- Bonus Perk: Sologoth Night Fever (Free if you purchase Under Corporate Supervision from her) - She rubs elbows with the Who's Who of Sologoth. She can get you into the most exclusive night clubs.
- Bonus Perk: Where Flap the Tatters of the King (Free if you purchase Under Corporate Supervision from her) - She will tell you what happened during the Yellow King incident.
Dr. Bejen Herrica: Ship's doctor and Tama's personal shaman.
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Verveenian
Age: 60
Gender: Male
Height: 4'10
Weight: 70lbs
Hair: Thinning brown/gray
Eyes: Brown
A middle-aged elf in a white lab coat and thick coke-bottle lenses
Ethnicity: Verveenian
Age: 60
Gender: Male
Height: 4'10
Weight: 70lbs
Hair: Thinning brown/gray
Eyes: Brown
A middle-aged elf in a white lab coat and thick coke-bottle lenses
- Highly skilled doctor and shaman. Studied at Normaris Seminary
- Knows ritual spells for healing, though due to their uncertainty and side-effects he uses them only when modern medicine fails
- Atheist: Believes the deities he calls upon are merely Platonic forms
- Forward thinking. Open to new treatments currently under development
- Mildly telepathic
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for twenty-six years
- Has 'Power Rangers armor' but rarely wears it.
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Diagnosis
- Esoteric Medicine (Alchemy)
- First Aid
- Pharmacy
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Physician
- Ritual Magic (Banish Spirits)
- Ritual Magic (Dispel Magic)
- Ritual Magic (Medicine)
- Runology (Jahannan School -- Medicine)
- Runology (Zobartic -- Banish Evil)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel).
Mage Ros Everich: Ship's Hydromancer (Category 4.8), low-level telepath
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Toloran/Zurain
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Height: 5'2
Weight: 100lbs
Hair: Brown, long
Eyes: Brown
A hippy-looking elf man in his forties. Tattooed to amplify his powers.
Ethnicity: Toloran/Zurain
Age: 46
Gender: Male
Height: 5'2
Weight: 100lbs
Hair: Brown, long
Eyes: Brown
A hippy-looking elf man in his forties. Tattooed to amplify his powers.
- Confederate Royal Sorcerer Corp (CRSC) (1914-1927) Rank: Sergeant
- Diagnus Corp. Security Assets (192
- Worships Nodens, the god of his father
- Other wizards think he's a weirdo
- Can use his telepathy to appear invisible
- Because of his Zurian ancestry, he is ineligible for CSK Citizenship. He is legally classed as a CSK Subject
- CSK Subjects are barred from owning property in the Swanland or marrying CSK Citizens
- Psychokinetic power excels at fluid manipulation
- Mid-high kinetic force (High with liquids)
- Mid-high defensive wards
- Moderate finesse
- Can manifest tulpas into liquid elementals
- Ship duties:
- Direct flow of fuel and other fluids
- Use a witchboard to influence local weather
- Aide in repairs/maintenance
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
- Dreams (Prerequisite for other skills)
- Meditation (Prerequisite for other skills)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Runology (Jahannan)
- Runology (Zurainian)
- Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel)
Mage Alais Tethys: Ship's Aeromancer (Category 5.2), Navigator
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Ghenaren
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Height: 4'6
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Brown
An attractive brunette with olive skin and warm brown eyes. Tattooed with runes to amplify powers. Has bionic legs.
Ethnicity: Ghenaren
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Height: 4'6
Weight: 60lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Brown
An attractive brunette with olive skin and warm brown eyes. Tattooed with runes to amplify powers. Has bionic legs.
- Confederate Royal Sorcerers Corp (1920-1934) Rank: Major
- Diagnus Corp. Security Assets (1934-)
- Holds a Phd in Thaumatology
- Motherly, though she has no children of her own
- Lost her legs when the Diagnus destroyer Snowy Rose was shot down by the Aesirans. Saved Tama's life.
- Psychokinetic power excels at gaseous manipulation
- Low kinetic force (High with gases)
- Low defensive wards
- High finesse
- Can manifest tulpas into semi-autonomous air elementals
- Ship duties:
- Cool overheating components
- Navigation
- Create vacuum tunnels in front of the ship (requires witchboard)
- Influence local weather (Requires witchboard)
- Aide in repairs/maintenance
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
- Aeromancy (Prerequisite for unlocking other Aero abilities. Available only to Maribel)
- Aeromancy: Remote Sensing ('Aerodar') (Available only to Maribel)
- Aeromancy: Tulpas (Beginner) (Available only to Maribel)
- Computer Operation
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Navigation
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation)
- Runology (Jahannan School)
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
Mage Vekerio "Vek" Gellera: Ship's Metalmancer (Category 5.1)
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Height: 4'8
Weight: 55lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Black, close-cropped with bangs
A skinny, somewhat surly elf with runic tattoos up her arms and legs.
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Height: 4'8
Weight: 55lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Black, close-cropped with bangs
A skinny, somewhat surly elf with runic tattoos up her arms and legs.
- Confederate Royal Sorcerers Corp (CRSC) (1937-1939) Rank: Private 1st Class
- Diagnus Security Assets (1939-)
- Kind of a jerk
- Best friends with Zizzy; grew up in the same Sologoth slums
- Family connections to nativist street gang, Tolos Nation.
- Tolos Nation hates communists and immigrants, in that order.
- Despite his vocal anti-communism, Tolos Nation isn't fans of Tama due to his advocacy of open borders and repealing the racial purity laws. Also, they consider him a race traitor for (twice) marrying a Korigan.
- Vek is on friendly terms with her family, though there are tensions.
- Vek won't help you against Tama without a very good reason.
- Psychokinetic power excels at metal manipulation
- Mid-high kinetic force (Very high with metal)
- Mid-high defensive wards (Very high against metal)
- Low finesse (Very high with metal)
- Can create mechanical golems
- Ship duties:
- Ship repairs/maintenance/rapid (dis)assembly
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
Perk
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
Perk
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
Mage Sisousa "Zizzy" Rama: Ship's Photomancer (Category 5.4)
Race: Elf
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Height: 4'3
Weight: 45lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black crew cut
A tiny elf, scowling girl with runic tattoos up her arms and legs.
Ethnicity: Toloran
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Height: 4'3
Weight: 45lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black crew cut
A tiny elf, scowling girl with runic tattoos up her arms and legs.
- Recruited into the Confederate Royal Sorcerers Corp (CRSC) but the war ended during her training. Transferred to Reserves in 1940 (Rank: Private)
- Diagnus Security Assets (1940-)
- Touchy about missing the war
- Surly, but friendly when showing off her powers
- Best friends with Vek; grew up in the same Sologoth slums
- Generates and manipulates photons
- Very low kinetic force
- Very low defensive wards
- Low finesse (Very high with light manipulation)
- Can make herself invisible (in a 'Predator' sort of way)
- Can generate holographic illusions ('phantoms')
- Phantoms can be tulpas
- Phantoms can be 'hard' and attack, but are easily dispelled
- Can create a 'magic eye' for remote viewing
- Can create light orbs
- Light orbs can dazzle people
- Light orbs can shoot lasers
- Ship duties:
- Minor maintenance and repairs
- Survey hard to reach area with her magic eye
- Can spot weld if necessary
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
Perk
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
Perk
Mind over Matter: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate psychokinesis ability (Available to Burt, Helen and Eddie)
Dr. Endubis Malachi: Doctor of Alchemy and Thaumatology, Tulpa-Artificer
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Vendi-Israelite
Age: 67
Gender: Male
Height: 5'5
Weight: 170lbs
Hair: Gray, with a long gray Gandalf beard
Eyes: Dark brown
A short squat elderly man of Middle Eastern descent. Has a bushy gray Gandalf beard
Ethnicity: Vendi-Israelite
Age: 67
Gender: Male
Height: 5'5
Weight: 170lbs
Hair: Gray, with a long gray Gandalf beard
Eyes: Dark brown
A short squat elderly man of Middle Eastern descent. Has a bushy gray Gandalf beard
- Master of the field of thoughtform-craft, programs tulpas using runes and witchboards
- Recently, he uses this knowledge in the budding field of artificial intelligence
- Currently working on Project Cyclops
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for fourteen years
- Curmudgeonly old man, but friendly enough once you get to know him
- Friends with Dr. Widari, like to play cards
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
Trademark by Hasbro (2 FP to unlock): He will teach you how to make your own Witchboard.
- Alchemy
- Computer Operation
- Computer Programming
- Mathematics (Pure)
- Mathematics (Theoretical)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation)
- Runology (Dwarven School)
- Runology (Jahannan School)
- Runology (Zobartic School)
Trademark by Hasbro (2 FP to unlock): He will teach you how to make your own Witchboard.
Dr. Alan Turing: British computer scientist, cryptographer
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Anglo-Saxon
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10
Weight: 170lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Blue
It's Alan Turing!
Ethnicity: Anglo-Saxon
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10
Weight: 170lbs
Hair: Dark brown
Eyes: Blue
It's Alan Turing!
- Brilliant in his field
- Worked on Project Ultra during the Great War
- Blackmailed by the German government for homosexual activities (1942)
- Arrested for sodomy; broken out of jail by Tama
- Currently working on Project Cyclops
- Only Earthling among Tama's entourage (you and your party excluded)
- Doesn't really fit in
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for two years
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
In the Halls of the Vacuum Tube Palace: (2 FP to unlock) He's not really supposed to, but he'll take you to meet Cyclops itself
- Computer Operation
- Computer Programming
- Cryptography
- Engineering (Electronics)
- Mathematics (Computer Science)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Running
In the Halls of the Vacuum Tube Palace: (2 FP to unlock) He's not really supposed to, but he'll take you to meet Cyclops itself
Dr. Bata Kokotomi: Philosopher, physicist, metaphysicist, mystic, very mildly telepathic
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Vendi-Aksumite
Age: 51
Gender: Female
Height: 5'8
Weight: 160lbs
Hair: Black, braided with beads
Eyes: Dark brown
A curvy black woman of indeterminate age. Her dark eyes shine warmly
Ethnicity: Vendi-Aksumite
Age: 51
Gender: Female
Height: 5'8
Weight: 160lbs
Hair: Black, braided with beads
Eyes: Dark brown
A curvy black woman of indeterminate age. Her dark eyes shine warmly
- Revolutionized the field of quantum platonics
- Panprotopsychist
- Currently working on Project Cyclops
- Comes from a long line of scientists
- One-eighth elf
- Husband is a Sky Marines General
- Has four children: two in the Sky Marines, one studying for his doctorate and her youngest an intern with Diagnus Corp.
- Warm and pleasant, with a good sense of humor
- Mildly telepathic, but only can use it in dreams
- Employee of Diagnus Corp. for seven years
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
Perks
- Dreams (Prerequisite for other skills)
- Mathematics (Computer Science)
- Mathematics (Theoretical)
- Meditation (Prerequisite for other skills)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Philosophy (Applied Platonics)
- Philosophy (Theory of Mind)
- Physics (Quantum Physics)
- Ritual Magic (Witchboard Operation)
- Runology (Jahannan)
Perks
- Dreamscape: (2 FP to unlock, must have Dream Skill and Mind to Mind Perk) Will teach you how to extend the range of your telepathy (from hundreds of miles to thousands) via a form of lucid dreaming (Available only to Burt, Helen, Eddie and Maribel) (Strictly speaking, no party member can pick this perk this chapter, but they can learn about it.)
- Mind to Mind: (2 FP to unlock) Unlocks your innate telepathic ability (Available only to
Burt, Helen,Eddie and Maribel)
Ayama Kokotomi: Daughter of Bata, tinkerer, computer whiz
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Vendi-Aksumite
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Height: 5'9
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black Afro
Eyes: Dark brown
A skinny black teenage girl, friendly and outgoing
Ethnicity: Vendi-Aksumite
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Height: 5'9
Weight: 130lbs
Hair: Black Afro
Eyes: Dark brown
A skinny black teenage girl, friendly and outgoing
- Mother is a scientist, father is a general
- Brilliant, but more tinkerer than thinker - shares none of her mother's interest in metaphysics
- Studying for her Doctorate in Electrical Engineering
- Works for Diagnus Corp as part of an internship
- Working on Project Cyclops, but only in an unofficial capacity
- Fixes the Sweet Pea's computer, even though technically that's not her job
- Reads communist literature
- One-sixteenth elf
- Practices traditional Askumite martial arts
- Knows how to 'hack the Grid'
- Vocal supporter of the Vendi Separatist Movement
Skill Bonuses (Assign each FP to a skill--you can pick the same skill multiple times)
A 5th Column is You: (2 FP to unlock, available only to Helen and Roberta, can be purchased split cost) Ayama will use her sources to open communication for Pat Savage's group. You will be able to relay and receive messages.
- Computer Operation
- Computer Programming
- Electronics Repair (Computers)
- Engineering (Electronics)
- Engineering (Robotics)
- Mathematics (Computer Science)
- Mechanic (Robotics)
- Mechanic (Battlesuit)
- Mental Strength (to resist telepathic attacks)
- Fencing
- Knife fighting
- Martial Arts
A 5th Column is You: (2 FP to unlock, available only to Helen and Roberta, can be purchased split cost) Ayama will use her sources to open communication for Pat Savage's group. You will be able to relay and receive messages.
Other Characters
- General Counsel Ran Cregerg: Tama's "Chief Lawyer." Boring. Not very approachable.
- Assistant Director Cletus Nok: Head of Security for D'vaugnas Tower
- Security Chief Biron "Bibi" Folen: Head of the Sweet Pea's twelve man security team.
- Sergeant Jann Pressa: Member of the Sweet Pea's security team.
- Engineering Chief Fenoran "Finny" Alreno: Head of Engineering
- Captain Felix Alexandros: Head of Tama's Corporate Guard team.
- Lieutenant Ishmael Zal: Member of the Corporate Guard
- Sergeant Horus Longinus: Member of the Corporate Guard
- Luro Iveis: Valree's cameraman
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Here's some Artbreeder portraits. I can't say these are exactly how I picture the characters (e.g. Tama has more of a Jude Law/80's Phil Collins hairline), but they're in the ballpark. It's a pretty impressive AI, and is fun to fiddle with.
Tama Dax D'vaugnas
K'Jala Galanaba
K'Leto D'vaugnas
Valree Zarhara
Anyway, twenty-six days left to vote. I'll work on the city map, and maybe a rough map of the CSK (and the Jahannan continent).
K'Jala Galanaba
K'Leto D'vaugnas
Valree Zarhara
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Here's a map of part of the Republic of Sologoth. Not the entire thing, but just the core bulk of its central city (Sologoth City) and its boroughs. This is just a general overview, which will gradually be elaborated upon. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Key
1. Emerald Hill: Government. Historical. Lots of Second Age/Early Third Age architecture. Plenty of temples, castles, museums, etc.
2. Vororoth: Financial. Business. Heavy dominance of Dwarf (Odrom) owned companies.
3. Tors: Wealthy residential. High-end markets and department stores. The home of many government officials.
4. Rologoss Island: The financial heart of Sologoth. Heavily developed in the last century. A spillover from Vororoth that eclipsed the parent.
5. Swanos: Middle-class residential and small businesses. A number of Vendi enclaves in this area.
6. D'Togos: Low-income residential. Subsidized housing. Struggling businesses. Tolos Nation gang territory.
7. Dabrine: Warehouse district. Light industry. Large homeless population ("Bum Town"). Lots of political malcontents.
8. Prince Beach: Recreational district. Theaters, nightclubs, casinos. High-business, but also high crime, with heavy organized crime activity.
9. D'vaugnas Tower: You are here.
10. Eirohm Tower: Headquarters of the Eirohm Arms Company (Widari's folks).
11. The Green Palace: Home of the Doge of Sologoth (currently Alren Nuvan). Nicknamed "The Doge House."
12. House of Diet: Where Sologoth's Republican Diet meets.
13. The Star Fort: Late-Second Age fortress. Serves as Sologoth's military headquarters.
14. Keerlo Park: Nice nature preserve. Lots of old buildings to look at too.
15. Basso Island: Gun and missile Battery. Under jurisdiction of the CSK Navy.
16. Lasso Island: Gun and missile Battery. Under jurisdiction of the CSK Navy.
17. Arrow points to Kurogotto Deep, a large touristy town near the Verveenian border.
18. Arrow points to Sologoth Republican Airport, as well Zingwin Naval Base (CSK).
19. Arrow points to Dragroth, an industrial city near the Toloran border. Low income, high crime. "Little Kaien." Korigan ganglands.
20. Arrow leads to Sologoth City dockyards and warehouse district. "Fish Town." Large Deep Ones population. Sewage treatment plant.
21. Diagnus Pictures Building: Headquarters of the Diagnus Pictures Company, a television and cinema subsidiary of Diagnus Corp.
22. Sologoth Republican Archives: Site of both the Sologoth Republic Library (Main branch) and the Sologoth Hall of Records.
Anyway, twenty days left, and so far no votes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't concerned. It seems a few of the regulars aren't so regular to SV anymore. Perhaps I took too long with my updates?
But we still have plenty of time left. And also, well, the way I see it, the primary audience for this quest is, to be quite honest, myself. So as long as I get at least one vote, the quest lives. Indeed, that one voter essentially gets their own personal CYOA game.
1. Emerald Hill: Government. Historical. Lots of Second Age/Early Third Age architecture. Plenty of temples, castles, museums, etc.
2. Vororoth: Financial. Business. Heavy dominance of Dwarf (Odrom) owned companies.
3. Tors: Wealthy residential. High-end markets and department stores. The home of many government officials.
4. Rologoss Island: The financial heart of Sologoth. Heavily developed in the last century. A spillover from Vororoth that eclipsed the parent.
5. Swanos: Middle-class residential and small businesses. A number of Vendi enclaves in this area.
6. D'Togos: Low-income residential. Subsidized housing. Struggling businesses. Tolos Nation gang territory.
7. Dabrine: Warehouse district. Light industry. Large homeless population ("Bum Town"). Lots of political malcontents.
8. Prince Beach: Recreational district. Theaters, nightclubs, casinos. High-business, but also high crime, with heavy organized crime activity.
9. D'vaugnas Tower: You are here.
10. Eirohm Tower: Headquarters of the Eirohm Arms Company (Widari's folks).
11. The Green Palace: Home of the Doge of Sologoth (currently Alren Nuvan). Nicknamed "The Doge House."
12. House of Diet: Where Sologoth's Republican Diet meets.
13. The Star Fort: Late-Second Age fortress. Serves as Sologoth's military headquarters.
14. Keerlo Park: Nice nature preserve. Lots of old buildings to look at too.
15. Basso Island: Gun and missile Battery. Under jurisdiction of the CSK Navy.
16. Lasso Island: Gun and missile Battery. Under jurisdiction of the CSK Navy.
17. Arrow points to Kurogotto Deep, a large touristy town near the Verveenian border.
18. Arrow points to Sologoth Republican Airport, as well Zingwin Naval Base (CSK).
19. Arrow points to Dragroth, an industrial city near the Toloran border. Low income, high crime. "Little Kaien." Korigan ganglands.
20. Arrow leads to Sologoth City dockyards and warehouse district. "Fish Town." Large Deep Ones population. Sewage treatment plant.
21. Diagnus Pictures Building: Headquarters of the Diagnus Pictures Company, a television and cinema subsidiary of Diagnus Corp.
22. Sologoth Republican Archives: Site of both the Sologoth Republic Library (Main branch) and the Sologoth Hall of Records.
Anyway, twenty days left, and so far no votes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't concerned. It seems a few of the regulars aren't so regular to SV anymore. Perhaps I took too long with my updates?
But we still have plenty of time left. And also, well, the way I see it, the primary audience for this quest is, to be quite honest, myself. So as long as I get at least one vote, the quest lives. Indeed, that one voter essentially gets their own personal CYOA game.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
You have at least one. I'll just... have to start reading it. Today. Might take me awhile, considering several other obligations I have at approximately the same time.
Which would probably mean a few more days of silence, but at least then there will be one more plan to work with!
elarasilk
Odd Creature
Evidence Ayama uncovered suggests Patricia Savage and her crimefighting gang (Colonel Grung, Professor Poseidon, Nicky Junior and Dame Csenia) are planning a rescue/kidnapping of your group (or possible just Eddie) during a protest/riot planned three days from now. Eddie seems to be on Team Tama, and if you tell Eddie, he may tell Tama, which would endanger Pat and may cost Ayama her internship. And Pat may only rescue/kidnap Eddie, separating you from your brother. Currently, only you and Bobbi know of Pat's supposed plans. Do you:
[X] Tell Eddie and the others, regardless of the consequences. You may not agree with what Eddie wants, but he should be able to make his own decisions.
[ ] Tell Eddie, but ask him not to tell Tama (this may not go over so well).
[ ] Tell no one. Let Pat try whatever she's going to do. You don't want to throw Pat and Ayama under the bus, and Eddie shouldn't be hanging out with a supervillain anyway. If she rescues him, it'll be for his own good.
[ ] Tell no one, and ask Ayama to use her sources to contact Pat. That way, you can help her plan the rescue from the inside. (Requires Roberta and/or Helen to purchase Ayama's Perk: A 5th Column is You).
[ ] Write in.
Sologoth is a city of political unrest and racial tension. Not that there's anything you can do about it, but do you have any thoughts or plans?
[X] Bobbi is right. The system is corrupt and needs to be torn down. Viva la revolución!
[ ] You haven't even stepped outside. How do you know the other side is any better? Besides, not your world, not your problem.
[ ] Write in.
Eddie will do the Ritual (whatever that is) in three days. Do you want to do anything about this?
[X] Ahh? Ahhhhhhh! No idea! Be Eddie?
K'Leto knows a way to sneak out of D'vaugnas Tower. Perhaps you can learn this from her? (Bear in mind K'Leto is going back to school in a few days).
[ ] Buddy up more to K'Leto (Requires K'Leto's Perk: Slipping the Leash).
[X] No, not right now.
[ ] Write in.
Goosie will soon run out of marijuana. What do?
[X] Buddy up with Valree and get some from her. (Requires 1 FP investment with Valree)
[ ] Buddy up to the hippy hydromancer Ros Everich (Requires 1 FP investment with Ros)
[ ] Stop smoking so much weed, you pothead!
[ ] Write in.
You have decisions to make. Who do you side with?
[X] As narcissist megalomaniacs go, Tama isn't so bad, and his Duellona Expedition actually sounds kind of fun. Let's go Team Tama!
[X] Pat Savage is a pulp hero of renown, and stopping Ironbone is vitally important for the whole Ring. Let's join the Pat Party!
[X] Ahh? Ahhhhhhh! No idea!
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[X] Very lost puppies here. Be nice to hook up with Aunt Esha, get enough skills and resources to strike out on our own somehow, rather than being squished between Pat and Tama, but the route from here to there isn't obvious, so I think a certain amount of "let it ride" is the plan for now.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[3] Burt
[4] Helen (Default)
[5] Eddie
[2] Maribel
[1] Roberta
Point allocation to follow.
[X] Tell Eddie and the others, regardless of the consequences. You may not agree with what Eddie wants, but he should be able to make his own decisions.
[ ] Tell Eddie, but ask him not to tell Tama (this may not go over so well).
[ ] Tell no one. Let Pat try whatever she's going to do. You don't want to throw Pat and Ayama under the bus, and Eddie shouldn't be hanging out with a supervillain anyway. If she rescues him, it'll be for his own good.
[ ] Tell no one, and ask Ayama to use her sources to contact Pat. That way, you can help her plan the rescue from the inside. (Requires Roberta and/or Helen to purchase Ayama's Perk: A 5th Column is You).
[ ] Write in.
Sologoth is a city of political unrest and racial tension. Not that there's anything you can do about it, but do you have any thoughts or plans?
[X] Bobbi is right. The system is corrupt and needs to be torn down. Viva la revolución!
[ ] You haven't even stepped outside. How do you know the other side is any better? Besides, not your world, not your problem.
[ ] Write in.
Eddie will do the Ritual (whatever that is) in three days. Do you want to do anything about this?
[X] Ahh? Ahhhhhhh! No idea! Be Eddie?
K'Leto knows a way to sneak out of D'vaugnas Tower. Perhaps you can learn this from her? (Bear in mind K'Leto is going back to school in a few days).
[ ] Buddy up more to K'Leto (Requires K'Leto's Perk: Slipping the Leash).
[X] No, not right now.
[ ] Write in.
Goosie will soon run out of marijuana. What do?
[X] Buddy up with Valree and get some from her. (Requires 1 FP investment with Valree)
[ ] Buddy up to the hippy hydromancer Ros Everich (Requires 1 FP investment with Ros)
[ ] Stop smoking so much weed, you pothead!
[ ] Write in.
You have decisions to make. Who do you side with?
[X] As narcissist megalomaniacs go, Tama isn't so bad, and his Duellona Expedition actually sounds kind of fun. Let's go Team Tama!
[X] Pat Savage is a pulp hero of renown, and stopping Ironbone is vitally important for the whole Ring. Let's join the Pat Party!
[X] Ahh? Ahhhhhhh! No idea!
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[X] Very lost puppies here. Be nice to hook up with Aunt Esha, get enough skills and resources to strike out on our own somehow, rather than being squished between Pat and Tama, but the route from here to there isn't obvious, so I think a certain amount of "let it ride" is the plan for now.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[3] Burt
[4] Helen (Default)
[5] Eddie
[2] Maribel
[1] Roberta
Point allocation to follow.
I can't say I was surprised Helen won (after all, she's won before), and I think it worked out (and she's a blast to write). But she's also a classical anti-hero. Sure, she'll fight and stand up for her own, but in general she lacks discipline and drive and is content to sit around stoned all day and collect paychecks. She had a notion to befriend K'Leto and use it maybe somehow escape to Pat Savage, but this plan wasn't even half-baked--the oven was in preheat. She wasn't even sure she wanted to succeed.
Given her laziness (and her current choice of friends), Helen has a natural disassociation with the goings-on around Tama and his circle, and so she made for an odd choice for this chapter.
Then I did my job. I didn't want it to be an easy choice.
There's the rub. As I've said before, the quest was designed with Aunt Esha being a sort of Doctor to the Companions. This plot mechanism broke, since no one went into the basement until the eleventh hour, and by the time she was discovered, the Deep One threat had passed.
She would have fought tooth and nail to keep away from Tama, though admittedly this would mostly be due to racism (and the fact that he's a Vaugnas).
A common criticism of my quest (and one I agree with) is that the best choice tends to be "do nothing." I tentatively claim that this chapter I've (partly) overcome this problem since even the "inactions" (i.e. "Tell Eddie" and "Don't tell Eddie") both have real consequences. In the first, Eddie could tell Tama (since Eddie doesn't want to be "rescued"), and Tama could lay an ambush for Pat and he might find out Ayama is chatting with political extremists, thus canceling her internship. In the second, you essentially betray your brother (and your whole family) "for his own good."
I wasn't sure how readers would vote on this. Neither option seems obvious.
Anyway, we have half a vote so far. Eighteen days left. If you enjoy the quest, feel free to vote!
elarasilk
Odd Creature
Ok, second half of a vote:
Helen:
Skills: Computer operation? Would be good to pick something else up, I think
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi (1 FP) knife fighting, Valree (1 FP) photography and ganja access.
Burt:
Skills: Keep up the meditation
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP) Runology?, Under Corporate Supervision is fine; Burt should connect with somebody more his own age, as well - actually no, he's a massive nerd, Alan Turing it is. Let's pick up some mental strength (1 FP).
Eddie:
Skills: Pistol shooting (1 SP). Eddie needs some martial skill to keep up, no matter who we end up with there'll be some hairy moments.
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP) Mental Strength, this might help with The Ritual. Mind to Mind would be good to unlock, join the telepathy party. Let's put the other point with Ayama Kokotomi (1 FP) into Martial Arts, I like Ayama.
Maribel:
Skills: Martial Arts - emphasis on breaking contact, falling well etc if possible. Maribel is too young and too small to get to grips with people, but if she has a few tricks to get away from somebody, that might come in very handy.
Friendships: Mage Tethys (1 FP) Beginner Tulpas, Mage Tethys (1 FP) Aerodar. Because who doesn't want a remote sensing remote communicating air-magic tweenager?
Roberta:
Skills: Computer operation (TL7x) (1 SP).
Friendships: Stick with Ayama (2 FP) but this time we should probably invest in Mental Strength, the remaining point going into? Mechanic (Battlesuit) for fun? This does allow us to open up A 5th Column Is You...do we want to?
Helen:
Skills: Computer operation? Would be good to pick something else up, I think
Friendships: Ayama Kokotomi (1 FP) knife fighting, Valree (1 FP) photography and ganja access.
Burt:
Skills: Keep up the meditation
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP) Runology?, Under Corporate Supervision is fine; Burt should connect with somebody more his own age, as well - actually no, he's a massive nerd, Alan Turing it is. Let's pick up some mental strength (1 FP).
Eddie:
Skills: Pistol shooting (1 SP). Eddie needs some martial skill to keep up, no matter who we end up with there'll be some hairy moments.
Friendships: Tama D'vaugnas (1 FP) Mental Strength, this might help with The Ritual. Mind to Mind would be good to unlock, join the telepathy party. Let's put the other point with Ayama Kokotomi (1 FP) into Martial Arts, I like Ayama.
Maribel:
Skills: Martial Arts - emphasis on breaking contact, falling well etc if possible. Maribel is too young and too small to get to grips with people, but if she has a few tricks to get away from somebody, that might come in very handy.
Friendships: Mage Tethys (1 FP) Beginner Tulpas, Mage Tethys (1 FP) Aerodar. Because who doesn't want a remote sensing remote communicating air-magic tweenager?
Roberta:
Skills: Computer operation (TL7x) (1 SP).
Friendships: Stick with Ayama (2 FP) but this time we should probably invest in Mental Strength, the remaining point going into? Mechanic (Battlesuit) for fun? This does allow us to open up A 5th Column Is You...do we want to?
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In the first part, under, "Goosie will soon run out of marijuana. What do?" you voted, "[X] Buddy up with Valree and get some from her. (Requires 1 FP investment with Valree)." Without that 1 FP investment, Goosie doesn't get her weed supply.
That being said, Valree doesn't exactly offer useful skills (Cinematography, Dancing and Photography), but this is offset by her proximity to Tama (if you influence Valree, you might influence Tama) as well as her three perks (Under Corporate Supervision, Sologoth Night Fever and Where Flap the Tatters of the King), all of which can be unlocked for just 2 FP.
This contrasts with the other Weed Option, the Hydromancer Ros Everich, who while he offers better skills (Dreams, Meditation, Mental Strength, Runology (Jahannan) and Runology (Zurainian)), he largely keeps to himself, so he's outside Tama's circle.
As Maribel climbs the skill tree, she'll eventually (i.e. a few years from now) be expected to get the runic tattoos on her arms and legs, which will enhance whatever she excels at. A smart wizard doesn't specialize too much, but they tend to favor one branch of their school over another. Tethys had to get her tats redone after she lost her legs, and now they go up her back.
Roberta actually has Computer Operation (TL 7x[1]) locked as her skill. Before she was fixated on combat (with ideas of shooting her way to freedom). Now she sees proficiency with computers as a better way of leveraging her way to freedom. After all, Ayama's network unearthed Pat's plans, apparently with Pat being none the wiser. Information is power and all that.
But in this case I'll allow a switch. Martial Arts was one of the skills I considered for her. And she can learn tech stuff through Ayama anyway.
This opens up a possibility I hadn't even considered: Telling Eddie about Pat's plans and contacting Pat to assist (?) in those plans. But despite the name, taking the 5th Column perk doesn't mean you have to help Pat. You could just as easily send her a message: "Thanks, but we don't need rescuing." Whether she'll respect your wishes is another matter.
[1] In GURPS, Tech Level 7 is Nuclear Age (1940+), with the 'x' symbolizing atompunk magi-tech enhancements. In short, the computers are 1950's hardware runed-up to 1970's functionality.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
Okay, I made it to the end of the chapter. So far I haven't read anything else, and skipped the discussion.
Quick thoughts and comments to follow.
Though of course money helps sell the image. Can't do much scientific villainy on a factory worker wage!
Strangely enough, the more I learn about him, the more I come around him as a person. I still don't much like working for him, because I think the talents of a World Jumper would be wasted in corporate service, but the mystery of Duellona calls to me. Tama is a buffoon, but one that likes praise and adoration, and by some cosmic irony he is in the time and place where he could make decisions that will change the world, or a multitude of worlds, even. It is as K'Jala says, "for wicked reasons he walks the path of the righteous", or at least he could be directed that way, and that alone may justify being close so one could steer him in the right direction.
K'Jala's mother's pragmatism may indeed be wise. Never underestimate the influence of a competent secretary. As long as Tama gets his fame, K'Jala has a say in how it comes to pass, making her a power to be reckoned with.
...which makes it doubly funny to me that Helen is incapable of remembering her name. She is just "K'Leto's mom".
I get Pat's quest because the Springfields have just lost their family, and Helen and Burt are twins too. It's personal in a way Tama's expedition isn't. But the world-saving duty is for heroes who fight and struggle and die to have books written and tacky TV shows filmed about them and who also aren't us because some of us would like to live a long and happy life smoking weed and not having much in the way of obligations.
It would probably be unpleasant, knowing that your entire nation perished in an atomic fire because the program ran a simulation on the best pizza recipe of all time and it needed to run through all possible permutations.
(That story ended with a simulated Earth - mutilated by a galaxy-spanning conflict - transmigrated to the overworld, and the surviving crew of the Research Institute written out of reality and put to the punishment duty of protecting said reality from the Horrors Beyond. It was complicated.)
The Final State, going by the meaning alone, is that, final. No more transmigrations, no more simulations. What's there at the end, is there to stay. Will it be the final Earth? Will it be some final configuration of the Ring? Will it be something else entirely? No one can tell for sure, but we could find out if we go.
Admittedly, this is a massive draw for me, a chance at finding the truth of this strange world, and having a hand in finalizing God's (or ROB's) work spanning millenia.
Is the Ring the final form the world is supposed to take? Or is it just a giant playground that allows multiple Earths to mix and clash, producing weird crossovers in search of... something? That the Precursors were able to access the command interface for a simulation is strong evidence in favor of this being "more real", but access to the interface does not mean the hardware is there as well, and so far everything in this world was about Earth.
Perhaps one of them is waiting for the possibilities to collapse in a single reality. What would it mean for us simulations, though?
*desire to reclaim the Lost City intensifies*
I kinda want to make a poor decision for once because of Helen's rather flawed character, but I don't think this would get much traction, and it wouldn't be fair to people who didn't pick her as a PoV heroine.
So how do we arrive to an acceptable compromise from Helen's point? Thinking about what we want gives us the answer - we want neither Tama nor Pat, because they both sound like trouble. But we aren't abandoning the only family we have left. We recognize it is Eddie's choice. We can expect him to have similar considerations towards us. Thus if we hold a vote, and the rest of the siblings really, really wouldn't want to stick with Tama, he could probably be convinced to leave.
Besides, all they really need is a single World-Jumper, Eddie. If we don't act as one, there is a real chance that we end up separated because we aren't on the same page about what we want, and that would be worse than any of the options.
That means we'd have to suck it up if others want things we don't, but that's what being a family is. We aren't trading that away.
You are motes of dust caught between two storms, and you don't have the luxury of scrunching up your nose at anyone's political beliefs lest you find yourselves scattered to the four winds. Take whatever is offered, and don't forget to thank the people sticking their necks out for you, no matter what you think about them.
And keep it to individuals, don't get involved with politics when you barely set foot on this land that isn't yours. You'll be gone in a year, and people will be left to live here, so don't make things even more messy and jump in on a revolution. No need to be impatient; you'll have your chance to increase the net amount of misery and chaos in the world when you accidentally try out a World Stone circlet and transmigrate another unfortunate world onto the Ring. Or summon Ironbone back along with Pam.
Let's not forget that our predicament is not in the least because a Springfield tried to join a cause and got his house burned down by the Feds.
Commit to people, not movements. We may still need to get Ayama out if that's what we decide. It isn't safe to leave her with a powerful gnostic on Tama's roster.
I'll put my thoughts into a vote some time later, though I probably won't be voting on skills. I spent two weeks agonizing over those last vote, only for them to not be picked.
Edit:
This sounds like a potentially cut off sentence (or an erroneous capitalisation), and also I think you meant "there"
Pick one?
At first I thought it was a typo, because I am too used to calling them Vendi Ka, but the quest goes between Venda Ka, Venda-Ka and Vendi-Ka interchangeably. Except for people, they are always Vendi. Any reason for that?
Either a pronoun is not required here, or a verb is missing.
...petrol?
I love these interactions between the D'Vaugnas entourage and people who have to deal with them on a daily basis. You can feel the pain of the guard, and the palpable relief when Tama starts talking in Swannish again, like a normal person.
But also a Bond villain. Some people dig that over money. Like Eddy.
Though of course money helps sell the image. Can't do much scientific villainy on a factory worker wage!
Far be it from me to defend Tama, but this was undeserved. He had no hand in cultivating the hero worship the girl's family had for him, other than being himself.
Strangely enough, the more I learn about him, the more I come around him as a person. I still don't much like working for him, because I think the talents of a World Jumper would be wasted in corporate service, but the mystery of Duellona calls to me. Tama is a buffoon, but one that likes praise and adoration, and by some cosmic irony he is in the time and place where he could make decisions that will change the world, or a multitude of worlds, even. It is as K'Jala says, "for wicked reasons he walks the path of the righteous", or at least he could be directed that way, and that alone may justify being close so one could steer him in the right direction.
K'Jala's mother's pragmatism may indeed be wise. Never underestimate the influence of a competent secretary. As long as Tama gets his fame, K'Jala has a say in how it comes to pass, making her a power to be reckoned with.
...which makes it doubly funny to me that Helen is incapable of remembering her name. She is just "K'Leto's mom".
Wait, since when Ironbone became our problem?
I get Pat's quest because the Springfields have just lost their family, and Helen and Burt are twins too. It's personal in a way Tama's expedition isn't. But the world-saving duty is for heroes who fight and struggle and die to have books written and tacky TV shows filmed about them and who also aren't us because some of us would like to live a long and happy life smoking weed and not having much in the way of obligations.
Have you learned that what you thought to be God was in fact a dozen scientists, programmers and guards (and one dog), stuck there on a night shift in a Research Institute running massive simulations on a supercomputer because they wanted it to arrive to an answer they themselves were incapable of coming up with? Because that was the premise of a story I read once.
It would probably be unpleasant, knowing that your entire nation perished in an atomic fire because the program ran a simulation on the best pizza recipe of all time and it needed to run through all possible permutations.
(That story ended with a simulated Earth - mutilated by a galaxy-spanning conflict - transmigrated to the overworld, and the surviving crew of the Research Institute written out of reality and put to the punishment duty of protecting said reality from the Horrors Beyond. It was complicated.)
Now let's be real, Tama isn't interested in bringing about the Kingdom of Heaven. I doubt that he knows what he is doing at all, although naturally he would think otherwise. I also doubt that he cares, so long as he is the first one to do it, and will go down in history books.
The Final State, going by the meaning alone, is that, final. No more transmigrations, no more simulations. What's there at the end, is there to stay. Will it be the final Earth? Will it be some final configuration of the Ring? Will it be something else entirely? No one can tell for sure, but we could find out if we go.
Admittedly, this is a massive draw for me, a chance at finding the truth of this strange world, and having a hand in finalizing God's (or ROB's) work spanning millenia.
Is the Ring the final form the world is supposed to take? Or is it just a giant playground that allows multiple Earths to mix and clash, producing weird crossovers in search of... something? That the Precursors were able to access the command interface for a simulation is strong evidence in favor of this being "more real", but access to the interface does not mean the hardware is there as well, and so far everything in this world was about Earth.
Perhaps one of them is waiting for the possibilities to collapse in a single reality. What would it mean for us simulations, though?
Ah, yes. Commence the Constantinople memes.
*desire to reclaim the Lost City intensifies*
Are we not supposed to know what either of those mean yet?
See, this is why I prefer playing as Burt. He has a strong sense of direction. Of course he'd tell Eddie! He is a medic, which means being big on ethics, the consent of a patient, and all these words too big for us poor pothead. We just want to smoke our weed in peace.
I kinda want to make a poor decision for once because of Helen's rather flawed character, but I don't think this would get much traction, and it wouldn't be fair to people who didn't pick her as a PoV heroine.
So how do we arrive to an acceptable compromise from Helen's point? Thinking about what we want gives us the answer - we want neither Tama nor Pat, because they both sound like trouble. But we aren't abandoning the only family we have left. We recognize it is Eddie's choice. We can expect him to have similar considerations towards us. Thus if we hold a vote, and the rest of the siblings really, really wouldn't want to stick with Tama, he could probably be convinced to leave.
Besides, all they really need is a single World-Jumper, Eddie. If we don't act as one, there is a real chance that we end up separated because we aren't on the same page about what we want, and that would be worse than any of the options.
That means we'd have to suck it up if others want things we don't, but that's what being a family is. We aren't trading that away.
You don't get it, do you?
You are motes of dust caught between two storms, and you don't have the luxury of scrunching up your nose at anyone's political beliefs lest you find yourselves scattered to the four winds. Take whatever is offered, and don't forget to thank the people sticking their necks out for you, no matter what you think about them.
And keep it to individuals, don't get involved with politics when you barely set foot on this land that isn't yours. You'll be gone in a year, and people will be left to live here, so don't make things even more messy and jump in on a revolution. No need to be impatient; you'll have your chance to increase the net amount of misery and chaos in the world when you accidentally try out a World Stone circlet and transmigrate another unfortunate world onto the Ring. Or summon Ironbone back along with Pam.
Let's not forget that our predicament is not in the least because a Springfield tried to join a cause and got his house burned down by the Feds.
Commit to people, not movements. We may still need to get Ayama out if that's what we decide. It isn't safe to leave her with a powerful gnostic on Tama's roster.
I'll put my thoughts into a vote some time later, though I probably won't be voting on skills. I spent two weeks agonizing over those last vote, only for them to not be picked.
Edit:
I'd like to know the circumstances behind her death. Of Tama's lovers she sounds like the only one he didn't break with by his own will.
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*Looks through the quest* Yeah, that is pretty inconsistent. I think I was remembering it was the Vendi people, from the Venda-Ka Wastes. However, there's a lot of Vendi-Ka in there too.
Of course, 'Vendi-Ka' is just what the Jahannans called their land (the etymology meaning 'far voyage') and over the centuries it stuck.
Sometimes the deviations are deliberate, though. Oskar called the Aesirans 'Ay'Syrans' ('People's Hand') because that's a more phonetically accurate. 'Aesirans' is the name anglicized. Of course, most people just call them Dragons.
Anyway, thanks for catching the typos. I'll change them.
Yeah, Tama was kind of trolling him (and he was as high as a kite). He's well aware how crazy he sounds to the uninitiated.
True, though that's why Burt said, "Something like that." The age difference and power inequality also cast the relationship in a skeevy light.
I'm glad you see it that way, since that was what I was going for. Tama is built on a Bond villain template (and the Vaugnases in general tend towards dark triad traits), but through that lens he's mostly an affable buffoon (albeit a dangerous one with the resources of a small first world nation).
And she does succeed in reigning in his more villainous impulses. According to K'Leto, her mother had to talk him out of killing the author and publishers of an unflattering biography. And ask Alan Turing, and he'll admit it's common knowledge K'Jala runs the business better than Tama.
Yeah, I tried to decide between K'Jala and Ms. Galanaba, but I figured this was more in character for Goosie....which makes it doubly funny to me that Helen is incapable of remembering her name. She is just "K'Leto's mom".
Bobbi does have an overdeveloped sense of heroism. Hell, the only reason she's here with the family is because she drove into the foggy woods with a gun to rescue them, expecting 'Hills Have Eyes shit.'
I have no idea what this story is, but it sounds interesting.
It's worth noting Dr. Widari doesn't even believe he's going to succeed, and is only following him out of a sense of moral aesthetics.
Eddie seems to believe this is all a simulation (indeed, that their own world was a simulation too), but Widari and the others hint there's more to it. I think there's theoretically right now enough clues to piece together this setting's ontology, though admittedly some of the clues are rather meta.
Perhaps the Ritual will clear things up.
No, but they're not a secret.
Quick history lesson: Swatic refers to the culture preceding the Meero conquest during the Late First Age (about 1,800 years ago). After a brutal siege, the city of Setesha was razed, but then later rebuilt as Sologotto. The Meero Empire fell (~1450 years ago), and Sologotto (later Sologoth) was part of the Kingdom of Anatoloran. Later, during the rise of the Merchant Princes, Sologoth (along with Kurogotto and Dragroth) became an independent republic (637 years ago).
Sologoth was one of the few countries that enjoyed continuity of government throughout the Apocalypse (albeit it was ruled by a Lord Protector for a couple decades) and was one of the kernels from which civilization was reborn. It was one of the founding members of the CSK, joining 419 years ago.
The Roggu Bloc (Roggs being a slang term), is a coalition of communist nations which rose to prominence during the Great War. Tensions are high between them and the CKS, which is worrisome because both sides have atomic weapons.
Tolos Nation is a nativist motorcycle/street gang operating in Sologoth (with chapters in other areas as well). Anti-immigrant, anti-communist. Very 'northeast' on a political compass. Vek's family is part of them, which creates tensions between them since Tolos Nation has mixed feelings on Tama. On one hand, he's pro-capitalist, on the other, he's for open-borders (and he's a race-mixer too).
Theoretically, the family splitting isn't off the table, though it would make things weird if a character who stayed behind wins, so instead of the next chapter being adventures in the Autumn City, it'll be Goosie smoking pot in front of the TV.
In practice, I think the others would, even if reluctantly, feel like they ought to stick together.
Sound advice, and this really is an instance where Goosie's apathy makes her the more levelheaded one.
Well, so far there's only one vote, so your plan if you make one would be tied with that. Any voters after that are likely to be series of '[X]elarasilk' and '[X]Nevill'. @Gingganz makes detailed plans, but he doesn't seem to be on SV that much. There are others, but I don't know if they're going to vote this time.I'll put my thoughts into a vote some time later, though I probably won't be voting on skills. I spent two weeks agonizing over those last vote, only for them to not be picked.
In short, as the pool of voters shrinks, your votes carry proportionally more weight.
Goosie knows a little about her from skimming The Emperor Scientist:
Asking around discreetly will tell you what's common knowledge: Rini hung herself from a ceiling fan at the age of 23. Tama turned into a recluse for a few years, and afterwards neglected Nyma, leaving her to be raised by nannies. She grew up to be bitter about this, and they were estranged until only recently, when they reconciled to an extent. Nyma is now married with two kids and runs a charity for war orphans (funded heavily by Diagnus Corp).
As for Rini, Tama rarely talks about her in public, though he has used her death to raise awareness of clinical melancholia. And also, of course, there's the Sweet Pea Jo'snik.
Anyway, one vote so far. Two more weeks to vote. If you're reading this and you enjoy the quest, feel free to vote!
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
No more than a prodigy gnostic ruining a marriage so she could make use of power and wealth far beyond her stature, I'm sure.
Still, they seem to be pretty content with what they got out of it, so who are we to judge?
Oh, Tama probably won't succeed in what he claims he intends to do, like creating an Utopia.
But the thing is, when you don't know what you are doing, and only care that it hasn't been done before, the definition of success is malleable. I trust he is resourseful enough to find a big red button and press it, going down in history just as he wanted. And hopefully not going down period.
He'll find a way to spin it as a success, no doubt.
Yes, but should we stay until we learn the Horrible Truth (TM)? That is the question.
We seem to need to make a choice of allegiance before we get our answers.
It's as if Bobby forgot what happened only a week ago. Oskar may have held views not compatible with their "modern" (for a given definition of modernity, considering the sheer number of timelines in the Ring) sensibilities, but it was enlightened Oswald who sold them out for cash.
Right. The vote!
Evidence Ayama uncovered suggests Patricia Savage and her crimefighting gang (Colonel Grung, Professor Poseidon, Nicky Junior and Dame Csenia) are planning a rescue/kidnapping of your group (or possible just Eddie) during a protest/riot planned three days from now.
[x] Call the family conference, tell Eddie and the others so you could reach a decision.
If he sticks with Tama... we'll abide by his choice. At this point Pat would be a detractor seeking to split the family and kidnap him against his wishes, so harming our standing with her would be inevitable anyway.
Sologoth is a city of political unrest and racial tension. Not that there's anything you can do about it, but do you have any thoughts or plans?
[x] Keep a low profile. It means there will be no shortage of people who may want to use you, or at least deny you to the other party. There is danger and opportunities there.
Eddie will do the Ritual (whatever that is) in three days. Do you want to do anything about this?
[x] He may have the right to know. Decide at the family conference whether it is worth the risk of attending.
I have a feeling he won't budge on this even if we convince him to flee. He lost direction for a while back on Earth, and now there is a chance of learning his purpose... at least as Tama's crew sees it. He won't lack for purpose as a World-Jumper if he goes with Pat, either, but he'll probably wonder until the end of his days if he misses it.
What should Goosie do?
[x] Buddy up more to K'Leto (Requires K'Leto's Perk: Slipping the Leash).
[x] Stop smoking so much weed, you pothead!
We may need to go out in the city for a while. Possibly to make contact with the other team, if that's what we decide?
We are on a timer, and if we flee we may not be able to take the weed with us. Concentrate, Helen!
You have decisions to make. Who do you side with?
[x] Hold the family conference - and possibly, a vote? Decide it then.
-[x] Goosie's preference is Pat Savage. She doesn't know much about her, but she suspects she'd like her outlook on a lot of things more than Tama's.
There is probably more freedom to be found in adventuring, and as a twin herself Helen may understand her plight better.
Anything else you would like to add? Any ideas or plans?
[x] Try to discreetly find out how to keep what you know hidden from a powerful gnostic. Maybe don't hang out with K'Jala too much until the whole thing settles.
Who should be the next chapter's POV? Rank from most preferred (5) to least preferred (1). Default vote is Helen (5) and everyone else (0)
[5] Eddie
Eddie is the one who ultimately gets to decide this whole thing. More importantly, without this decision being left to the players, we risk a stalemate, as Burt will likely side with his sister, and Maribel may lean towards luxury and Unlimited Air Power.
Plus, going with Pat would mean leaving Eisha behind. She will almost certainly be awakened, as without us Tama would lack the means to reach Duellona, and will have to look for alternatives.
Next up, skills and social. The plan makes certain commitments already (stick with K'Leto, avoid K'Jala), but I'll have to think on the rest.
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K'Jala does seem pretty blind to her own faults.
And K'Jala's selling herself short. Tama didn't make her General Secretary out of a sense of guilt (though perhaps that played a part) but because she's good at her job. It's grown beyond that (after all, he conducted her into the Ritual), but were she of modest ability she'd share the fates of his previous lovers. He'd ensure she's generously provided for, of course, but would only see her when he visits his daughter.
It's worth noting Eddie's appearance (and Aunt Esha, and the World Stone) is for Tama an unbelievably amazing windfall (he even puts it as, 'the fates have bestowed'). Despite his ego and obsessions, even he never thought he would be this lucky. A couple of weeks ago his ambition was 'only' developing mind-uploading technology, thus laying the groundwork for a post-singularity utopia. And he knew this was still decades away, and he wouldn't live to see it come to pass (he hoped Cyclops would carry on his work). [1], [2]
Your arrival was for him a happy monkey wrench thrown into his plans. Before, Tama was reaching for the moon. Now he's leaping for the stars.
The question is after Eddie conducts the Ritual, will the other characters believe him?
And Tama implies the World Stone will somehow amplify the Ritual.
Bobbi tends to see things in terms of black and white. Tama is the bad guy; Pat is the good guy. With Oskar and Oswald, she didn't really like either one of them.
Earlier, Maribel had the idea of joining with Pat so she can look for her father. Sure, he may have been helping Ironbone, but:
While she would still like to do that, a friendly aeromancer mentor is a hard thing to give up . . . .
Anyway, thirteen days left. Two votes and one Skill/Friendship plan. If you're reading this and you enjoy the quest, feel free to vote!
[1] Cancer tends to strike D'vaugnases down in their fifties, and both Tama's parents (who were chain-smoking cousins) were hit in their forties. Tama (56) has lived a (relatively) healthy life, and expects to reach sixty. He doubts he'll see seventy.
[2] This isn't really spoilers. This is stuff Tama has already told Eddie.
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