Aetheral Space-Chapter 545 - 17.17: Like Night in the Ships
DAY 2
Within the captain's quarters aboard the Alec Alexander, a secret meeting was taking place between secret guests.
Two huge couches faced each other in the middle of the massive room, a window stretching across the wall beside them and offering a grand view of the black expanse beyond. Ascendant-General Alexandrius Toll took up one of the couches all by himself with his impressive bulk, while the other was taken up by two smaller figures. They were clad in grey robes and plain masks, every inch of their appearance obscured. To the ignorant eye, they would surely look like nothing less than citizens of Abra-Facade, where all men went masked.
These were Pax's 'siblings' -- that was the cover story Toll had offered the men. In reality, though…
"You've had time to observe," Toll rumbled, looking at the leftmost guest. "What are your thoughts?"
"I can take this off?" came the muffled voice of the boy behind the mask as he cocked his head. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, yes I can. You've already turned off the cameras here, right? Normally the auto-brain would keep watch over the whole ship, and that guy surely has the means to access its records, so it would be meaningless to take us to your private quarters unless you'd already deactivated the surveillance. Right, right, of course. I'll take it off now, then."
Toll took a deep breath through his nose. The boy wasn't nearly as long-winded as that bastard, but he still had a mouth that didn't stop. If not for the circumstances, he surely wouldn't have sought the young man out for this task.
Even if he was the Supremacy's best detective.
Winston Grace took the mask off with his one hand and lowered his hood with another, shaking his hair like he was a dog that had just come out of the rain. Beside him, his twin sister Beatrice did the same, looking straight at Toll with keen eyes. She was clearly the more practical of the two. Good. Toll approved of practicality more than anything else.
Leaning forward, Winston tapped against his cheek with the finger of his prosthetic arm, the limb ball-jointed and slightly shiny like that of a porcelain doll. That arm had been one of the conditions of his cooperation here. The other condition had been a general pardon for any of the misdemeanors of the Grace family.
In exchange, Winston Grace had come here to spot the knives aimed at Toll's back.
"Zun the Immortal, huh?" Winston mused. "Yeah, I've had a chance to observe him. He's a talker, huh? But he doesn't actually end up saying much. And he definitely lives up to his name, too, in case you were wondering. He's got a stupid number of abilities all designed just to keep him alive. The Wise Men definitely chose him for his longevity -- plus his loyalty. He's their guy through and through."
Toll nodded slightly to himself. "I assumed as much. What of those he's brought with him?"
Beatrice Grace took over -- she'd been the one sneaking into the cargo hold to keep an eye on Zun's activities directly. "He's got an entire entourage," she said. "But apart from Love Babylon, they're all from the newest wave of Special Officers -- stragglers recruited from the Crimson Carnival remnants and some other mercenaries. Bought and paid for, basically. Eleven of them altogether."
Toll grunted solemnly. He'd never been fond of that Caesar, nor the Commission, but it truly was a shame to see the organization she'd devoted her life to be stripped of all dignity and converted into another arm of the Three Wise Men.
"And Zun's goal?" Toll said, his gaze returning to Winston Grace. "Is it as I suspected?"
It was obvious that Zun had been sent here to keep an eye on Toll and represent the interests of the Three Wise Men during the Supreme Retrieval Operation… but was that really all? That seemed a tad naïve to Toll. If Toll had an enemy like himself, and he knew that enemy was about to throw himself into battle, he would send an agent with one goal in mind.
"Yup," Winston Grace said casually. "He's here to kill you."
"Let me ask you something. Actually, sorry, let me apologise for that. I don't like to apologise so easily -- it reduces the value of my sincerity and makes me seem like someone who doesn't understand the importance of a true apology -- but in these circumstances I do feel compelled. When I say 'compelled', though, I don't literally mean that someone is controlling me and forcing me to apologise, it's just a figure of speech. Well, of course you know that, shee-shee-shee. What am I even saying? It's not like this is your first conversation. Now wouldn't that be something, though? Imagine going your whole life without having a conversation with someone else. What a sad and lonely existence that would be. Personally, I'm happy for you that you haven't led a life like that… although if you had led a life like that, I suppose you wouldn't see it as something odd. When a frog is slowly boiled, it doesn't notice the heat, did you know that? It's the same with life. So long as you are accustomed to it, you can endure any manner of horror. Comfort is the thing that humans seek out the most, comfort, and stability is the number one source of comfort. I'm exactly the same. The most uncomfortable thing in this galactic game of life is playing it, you know? It's much better to become an indispensable piece and allow yourself to be used. This mission will ensure that for me, ensure it for all of you. In a few days time, the Three Wise Men will be very happy with everyone here. When I say 'here', though, I mean here in the cargo hold, not everyone on the Alec Alexander. While I'm sure the people they're most unhappy with will no longer be present at that point, I can't speak for their opinions on everyone in the ship. There's nothing more arrogant than speaking for another -- and the next most arrogant thing is to selfishly push your own words onto another. That's why I feel the need to apologise. I said 'let me ask you something' as if I were some half-baked god. I allowed you no choice, no agency, there. I'm sorry. I should have asked your consent. Consent is the most important thing… and yet our situation demands a certain urgency. Thus, I must sin again. They say it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, but it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth -- not literally, of course, but it's still an unpleasant sensation. All the same, however, I'll need to repeat myself. Let me ask you something."
The cargo hold was silent for a long moment. Most of the Special Officers that lurked around the makeshift space -- empty crates serving as private quarters -- had only recently joined the ranks of the Commission. With the exception of one, they'd been spared the verbal stylings of Zun the Immortal until just now.
Well, it was best for them to get used to it. Zun's soul resided in his tongue. He never intended to restrain it.
His cunning eyes flicked to the face of the one he'd started speaking to in the first place.
"Well?" he went on. "Well, Miss Tanya? Well? What do you think? What are my chances? I don't want to rush you, but I know you've had enough time, so I'd really like to know. How easily do you think I can kill Alexandrius Toll?"
The woman Zun had plucked from the chaos of the Banquet looked up uneasily. Back when she'd been in the Crimson Carnival, perhaps she'd been a bit imposing, but nobody could maintain that sort of menace when they'd been pulled so far from their comfort zone. Her dark blonde hair hung down messily, a stark contrast to her black raincoat, and a jagged scar ran along the bridge of her nose. Her mechanical jaw might have made her emotions difficult to read, if not for the fact that those sapphire eyes of hers wouldn't look at Zun directly as she answered.
"Well…" she said, voice husky. "...it depends on the circumstances."
Her ability, Around The World, allowed her to run detailed mental simulations of combat using her Aether as a medium. So long as she had an accurate understanding of the combatants and their resources, she could calculate the results of a clash without fail. Zun really liked that ability -- he was sort of kicking himself for not coming up with it personally, to be honest. There was no better way to avoid dying in battle than to know the results in advance.
Still -- still still still -- these words weren't as comforting as Zun would have liked. His monkey-like tail swished in the air as he frowned, resting his chin on his staff.
"Okay, hm, well, that's not incredibly helpful, when I get right down to it," he mused. "It depends on the circumstances? Well, yeah, I understand that, I definitely do -- but what doesn't depend on the circumstances, you know? Very little, I would say. I guess what you're trying to say is that it isn't a one-hundred percent chance guarantee, and I appreciate your honesty there -- to be honest myself, I wouldn't believe you if you said it were a one-hundred percent chance thing -- but how helpful is that for us really? All battle is won before battle has begun, didn't you know? Right now, if we're to clear space for a new Ascendant-General, shouldn't our procedure be to increase the chances of a successful severance as much as possible? Like I said -- I hate to repeat myself, but I feel the need to be clear -- I wouldn't believe a one-hundred percent chance guarantee, but somewhere in the nineties I feel would be really comfortable for me. How about it? What circumstances do we need to make that happen?"
Tanya considered it for a moment. No doubt she was running a sequence of further simulations in her Aether, trying to find the right conditions that would result in the most victories. From the most common scenarios to the most esoteric and absurd… Zun had faith that Tanya would not neglect her analysis.
She'd be too worried about the bomb inside her head, after all.
Finally, Tanya opened her mouth -- but she was interrupted, and not by Zun.
"Isn't it obvious?" the sultry voice came from the other side of the cargo bay as its owner approached. "What we're heading into will soon become a war. Darling, there's no better time to kill your commanding officer than when he's in the middle of battle."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Love Babylon was an extravagant-looking woman in a shiny red ball gown, with a huge clawed gauntlet covering one arm and a pair of glass slippers clinking as she walked. Blonde ringlets pooled around her head as she smirked, looking at the menagerie around Zun with obvious condescension. That made sense -- unlike these new recruits, Babylon was a veteran Special Officer.
"Ah, were it so simple, shee-shee-shee…" Zun chuckled. "But Toll is a cautious man -- and besides, getting rid of him in the midst of battle might stir up chaos that will wash us away too. Ah, what a stressful mission that's been placed upon my feeble back. I might lose sleep because of this. I might even lose heart! Shee-shee-shee."
As he smiled at Love, Tanya spoke up again.
"Ninety-one," she said. "We can get ninety-one."
"How?" Love Babylon crossed her arms.
"Everyone here attacks him together," Tanya said confidently. "Right when the fighting is at its thickest. We need to get him alone and overwhelm him before he even knows what's happening."
Zun pursed his lips, considering Tanya's words.
Getting him alone, huh? Attacking him in a group, huh? Ending things before they could even begin, huh?
Zun the Immortal grinned.
Why, that sounded just like his sort of fight!
Elsewhere in the universe, Bruno del Sed floated through the hallways of a starship, feeling every inch the ghost that he looked like.
Luna had explained everything, back there on that roof on Serendipity. A mission had been put together, to go to Nehr Müt and bring the traitor Zephyr Pandershi to justice. It was likely that war with the Supremacy would break out any day now, so the UAP couldn't dispatch a sizable force within their own borders -- instead, a relatively small strike team of several Nebula and associates would be dispatched to Nehr Müt.
Their mission was two-fold. Capture or eliminate Zephyr Pandershi… and capture or eliminate the Supreme.
Bruno had no intention of killing Dragan, even now, and he had no doubt that the prophetess Luna knew that. Bringing him and Serena along must have been enough of an advantage for the first mission for her to allow it. While the UAP forces went after their main objectives, Bruno would have to find a way to get Dragan and Ruth both out of there… and somehow get out of the reach of both factions.
That was the tricky part.
Serena was asleep right now, with Bruno roaming the part of the ship around their quarters, but they hadn't come aboard alone. Annatrice had insisted on accompanying them, and some of the older del Sed kids had insisted on accompanying her. They had a damn near entourage at this point. It would be a hell of a task to sneak everyone off of Nehr Müt undetected, even if they had a way to do that.
After all, getting in or out of Nehr Müt was easier said than done. Zephyr Pandershi had destroyed the lightpoint leading to it, so only a ship with an onboard lightpoint could make the trip -- and those weren't exactly easy to come by. The UAP weren't about to risk losing either of their two lightpoint ships -- the Lugalbanda or the Wing Spread Glory -- for something like this. Luckily, however, they'd recently come into possession of a far more disposable vessel.
The Thinker's Comet.
It still bore the scars of battle, a half-demolished starship hurtling across the galaxy on a desperate mission. A couple of Nebula, some hired guns, and others with no right to be here at all. With such meager forces, they hoped to take down Zephyr Pandershi, Darkstar, and the Supreme all at once.
It was the definition of foolhardy… and yet, for some reason, Bruno couldn't think of it as impossible.
Crossing his arms, he turned in the air and looked out at the dark gulf of space. Somewhere across this abyss was Nehr Müt. Somewhere across this abyss was Ruth, and Dragan, and so many other things he couldn't bear to lose.
Just a little more, he told himself. Just a little more.
"Do you sleep?" called out a sharp voice.
Bruno turned his head. Coming down the corridor -- his footsteps silent -- was a dour-faced man with Scurrant features that made him look like the grimmest clown in the galaxy. Nebula Three, Tom Foolery, the combat leader for this mission. With Nebula One indisposed and Nebula Two dead, Bruno supposed that this guy was the highest-ranking guy around.
Still floating, Bruno turned fully, crossing his arms. "If I want to," he replied.
"You don't want to?" Tom Foolery asked as he reached the window. He clasped his hands behind his back in a rigid military posture as he looked out at the darkness of the galaxy.
Bruno shook his head.
"Good," Tom gave a curt nod. "I dislike sleep. Sleep is wasted time. I've done a great deal of training to reduce the amount of sleep my body needs as much as possible. To tell the truth, I find myself somewhat jealous of your mode of existence."
Well, feel free to swap, then, Bruno thought, barely holding his tongue.
"You're prepared for combat?" Tom asked, still looking out into the night. "Pandershi's forces will be considerable… as will Darkstar."
"Doesn't matter if I'm prepared or not," Bruno muttered. "I'll just do what I have to do."
Another curt nod. "Just so."
Still, though… Bruno cast a sidelong glance at Tom Foolery with his crystal eyes. "What are our chances, in your opinion? With a team this small?"
"Quality over quantity," Tom corrected. "The most important thing when going up against an enemy like Pandershi is adaptability."
"And do we have that?"
Tom looked up at Bruno, an almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You haven't seen, then."
Bruno cocked his head. "Seen what?"
"The prisoner our oracle brought aboard."
Luna looked in silence through the barrier of the cell, her mind digging through the futures ahead.
With this person here, the route to the future she wanted became accessible. It was no sure thing -- here, on the precipice, she could still see a number of disasters waiting to be triggered. In some, a writhing darkness spread across the stars. In another, a golden sword was taken in hand and lifted above all, spitting out legions of rabid possibilities. In others still, in the worst and most common futures, Edgar's grand jigsaw had its final piece pushed into place.
But the route elsewhere was still open -- so long as this woman was here.
The woman who no longer knew herself as Gretchen Hail looked back at Luna through the glass, with one eye of green and one eye of gold.
Tom Foolery continued to look out at the stars as the boy Bruno floated away. His face was completely still, his eyes sharp, but his mind was racing. Right now, he couldn't afford to stop thinking for a moment.
The world was about to change.
Everyone in the galaxy was surely aware of that now. The chaos that had been weaved together on Serendipity would soon spread out and engulf everything. These were the last blissful moments before that happened. Tom knew in his bones that the way things went at their destination would have a significant influence on the shape of the world once the storm passed.
He lifted his hand and curled it into a fist. If nothing else, he still had this. This had never failed him.
They'd reach Nehr Müt in around two days' time -- and once they did, their first move would be to get into contact with their agent on the ground. Not Blaine, who'd never received any sort of espionage training. No, the one they'd get in contact with was someone they had no doubt would have already made the proper preparations on her end.
After all, Ruth Blaine wasn't the only Nebula who'd been sent to Nehr Müt.
May Miracles, Nebula Eight, stood in the middle of the fortress Auberon, watching the world in silence.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd continuously used her ability this long. When had she activated it? Back on Serendipity, definitely -- shortly after the skirmish with the Supreme. She'd walked unnoticed right up to the confrontation on the Seat of Man's roof, trying to position herself as best she could to take down Darkstar's leader… but circumstances had moved too quickly for that to happen.
There was no telling what would happen if Pandershi and Darkstar were allowed to prepare unhindered. They needed an agent on Nehr Müt if they hoped to counteract these people. So, May had made a snap decision, and charged right into the Lovers' transmission as well.
Unnoticed, she'd been beamed here to Nehr Müt.
Unnoticed, she'd arrived in the transfer chamber with everyone else.
And unnoticed… she'd stalked through the halls of Auberon, watching and listening.
May Miracles' ability was her own evolution of Aether cloaking. Most people weren't aware of this, but the more proficient a person became with Aether, the more they came to unconsciously use it as a supplement for their own senses. Her ability took advantage of that -- by tricking the Aether of others into very specifically perceiving her as not being there, that erroneous perception was passed on to the real senses of the person in question, erasing her presence.
That was how she could walk among such powerhouses without fear. Speaking of which…
Someone was walking towards her, across the sterile white floor of the grand meeting room. May stepped out of the way, and allowed Niain -- the leader of Darkstar -- to walk right past without a glance in her direction. Her grip tightened on her holstered revolver.
Not for the first time, she considered whipping it out and blasting a bullet right through Niain's head… but no. The moment she launched an attack or was hit by one, her ability would deactivate. Here, right in the middle of the enemy's territory, that would be a death sentence. Besides, from what she'd observed of Niain, she wasn't one-hundred percent sure a bullet to the head would kill him straight away.
The door slid shut behind Niain, and May relaxed slightly.
She let out a sigh nobody in the world could hear. Even though her ability made her undetectable to Aether-users -- the stronger they were, the more effective -- she still had to be careful around the weak and those without Aether at all. She'd already noted the surveillance within Auberon, and was moving with that in mind. Even with her ability, she was risking death with every step she took. No paycheck in the world was worth this.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Two days without food or water -- she couldn't risk being spotted taking it -- keeping her body running through Aether enhancement alone. She hadn't had much in terms of sleep either -- a couple of times she'd managed to crawl into some alcove or another and steal a few minutes of rest, but she'd wake with a start before long. The sensation of an awful dream would linger for a while, too -- dreams of a dark beast with a mask of white bone. She shuddered at the thought.
May Miracles was well-trained. She could deal with stress -- but she couldn't deal with it forever. The sooner she was out of here, the better.
If she was right, though, that wouldn't be too long. After what had happened on Serendipity, she had no doubt the UAP would enact an operation to pursue the perpetrators. That force should arrive soon enough, within the next couple of days. If she could hold out until then, things should be good… but then again, just holding out wouldn't be enough.
Her allies would be marching right up to the enemy gates, after all. It was May Miracles' job to open them from behind.
