Sarya, 53rd Queen of Venegar, Regent of the Emerald Throne, Keeper of the Eye of Ekron, was not a happy woman. The functionary next to her babbled on about the history of the building that the UP had ‘generously donated’ to be the new Embassy to Venegar on Earth, and it was an abomination.
“The Museum of Space, as you can see, was designed by famous Martian architect Rev Soon Ak in the quirky ‘retro’ style of ‘art-deco,’ which was undergoing a resurgence of popularity in the mid-28th century. A sign of nostalgia for a simpler time of boundless optimism, it’s kitschy, yet functional understated…”
‘Enough of this,’ Sarya knocked the data-pad spinning from the functionary’s hands with a casual backhand. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take it, just paint the damn thing green already.”
“It looks like someone fired a giant missile at New Metropolis, it got stuck in the ground, and they slapped a door on it and called it a building.” Garth muttered as they approached the bright-red door in question.
“I think that’s what they were going for, actually.” Added Rokk, turning his own datapad sideways, as if the building would look any less ludicrous from some other angle.
<Well, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?> supplied Imra, with a cautiously optimistic tone.
Opening the door and striding forward impatiently, the Queen of Venegars next proclamation was in a language understood by all sentients, “Aaaahhh!!!”
“What in death’s name is that *thing*!!!” she pointed at the towering creature roaring in her face as her Champions prepared to defend their new patron.
“Oh, that.” Muttered the functionary, still shaking his nerveless fingers. “It’s an artificial construct meant to represent an extinct earth creature, called a Tyrgorasumething Rekus.”
<Tyrannosaurus Rex.> corrected Imra, pointing at the name on her datapad. Lacking a datapad of his own, the functionary just glared at her.
“Yes, that. It’s one of the museum exhibits that was left behind when the place was closed down.”
“Well, it’s appalling, and completely inappropriate.” The Queen declared huffily, “It stays.” She pointed to a display on the second tier, “And those brutish looking ancient weapons of war. They stay as well. Everything else goes. See to it.”
Dismissing the functionary with an airy wave, the Queen placed her hand on the animatronic T-Rex’s snout and petted it absently as she turned to her Champions, “Welcome to our new home.”
What a difference three days and an apparently unlimited amount of money can make. The Embassy was now painted in a shade of forest green, with the ‘rocket-ship fins’ painted a darker jade green in contrast. Entering the embassy, the original foyer had been reconstructed into various meeting rooms and guest quarters, while the uppermost two floors had been cleared away and made into a grand open-aired throne room, with overlooking galleries that let to private chambers on the second tier. Every surface of every wall had been painted a dark metallic green, appearing almost black at a distance, and every door had been folded away into the walls when not in use, to be replaced with a gauzy pale-green translucent sheet of cloth that billowed in the warm breezes that circulated through the chambers. The soft scent of earth and flowering plants, jasmine, morning-glory and lilac, wafted along these breezes, accompanied by the occasionally raucous cries of the birds imported to flutter about these interior gardens. The roof had been replaced with transparent crystal of such a pale shade of green that it was all but invisible at full transparency, that could be darkened on command to an opaque shade of near-black jade. Wishing to surround herself with the things of earth, her new home for a time, the foliage and fauna alike were all species native to this world, and green and red-feathered hummingbirds flitted about seeking sugary treasures, while a mated pair of quetzal birds engaged in some sort of domestic dispute about their new living arrangements. Sarya hoped they resolved this squabble soon. If they continued to disrupt the harmony of her court, she might feel the need to execute one or both of the disrespectful creatures…
Just over the burbling streams she had constructed in this interior garden, a throne of green crystal sat, and behind it, relocated from it’s former home on the first level, towered the crouching form of the extinct earth dinosaur, one tiny forelimb resting on the back of the throne, while it’s enormous head moved slowly, examining each other resident of the room, it’s massive tail gently sweeping back and forth. Every now and then, in accordance to it’s programming, it would sniff the air in the direction of a worker and utter a low growl. Delightful. Extinct or not, Sarya *would* find a way to have a living sample of this species.
The room was prepared, and within the hour, her Champions would report to her presence, to receive their formal recognition. Settling herself into the throne and patting the head of her enormous mechanical pet, Sarya awaited the day’s business.
“Oh, lords of steel and stone, there’s just no way.” Rokk exclaimed as he lifted his ‘Champion’s Garb’ from the box. Jangling and clanking in his hands rested two stone worth of metallo-mesh fiber one-piece bodysuit, which, in and of itself wasn’t too awful. Woven of a fine series of interlinked metallic chain rings, that Rokk immediately could sense as being composed of Braalian mag-steel, and further, seemed ideally suited to his own preferred magnetic resonance frequency, the suit looked to be form-fitting. The links were primarily dark jade green in hue along the chest, shoulders, sides, gloves and boots, with panels of lighter forest green along the under arms, inner sides of the legs and lower torso. Effective use of countershading, and not objectionable by itself, although he would have preferred that the colors be reversed, rather than call attention to the crotch. ‘And ass,’ he thought, as he turned the suit around.
Still, in his magno-ball career he’d worn far less tasteful attire, as he was well aware that the fans didn’t show up just to see dazzling athleticism. Sex sells, after all, and at least the Queen wasn't requiring him to prominently display corporate branding tattooed onto his flesh.
No, the questionable bit were these metal ovoids all over the suit. Each had weight to it, and had been shellaced a glistening metallic green, so that it was hard to tell if they were supposed to look like metal or gemstone. Also of Braalian mag-steel, Rokk knew that they would resonate with his own biomagnetic field, and be effectively weightless when worn close to the skin, but still, he couldn’t imagine not looking like a clattering ornament-drapped festival pole…
Oh well, nothing for it, he certainly couldn’t tell the Queen of Venegar that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the clothes she’d picked out for him. Shrugging, Rokk pulled the cold metallic suit on and stepped in front of the mirror with his eyes closed, waiting to see how bad it could possibly be.
“Wow.” It was astounding. The metal ovoids ended up positioned over shoulders, biceps, chest, hips, forearms and thighs, and didn’t only not look awful, they actually somehow accentuated his own musculature. If anything, they made him look *more* muscular, adding just the right amount of curve to look powerful, but not bulge out cartoonishly. Turning around, his secondary fear was confirmed. “Oh well. At least I have a nice ass.”
Practicing walking towards the mirror with a jaunty step, he looked a little cartoonish at first, but slowing his pace down and walking with a weighter, more deliberate step made the skin-tight outfit actually look like a suit of armor, and with the right confident expression, he looked pretty Champion-like and not at all like a teenager wearing a skintight bodysuit covered with shiny metal balls...
Oh yeah. He could work with this. Time to be a Champion.
<Thoughts of mercy! Where’s the rest of it?> Imra thought out loud as she dug through the package, hoping to find more components to this ‘Champion’s Garb.’ Instead, all she had was a long gauzy transparent scrap of cloth that looked like the curtains Sarya had insisted on replacing the doors with, <Have they no concept of privacy?>, a few dark green leather bits that could have come from a Serellian squirrel, <Actually, the squirrel would have hide left over…>, and a bunch of flexible golden tubes of Titanian psi-metal, <It’s illegal to export this off of Titan! It’s good to be the Queen, I guess…>.
Imra spent a decent interval attempting to figure out how these various components would assemble to form anything remotely resembling ‘clothing,’ <Great archetype! Couldn’t she have included instructions? I had an easier time assembling a mitochondrial DNA structure in molecular micrology…>
Finally, it was completed, although Imra turned the mirror around to block the view from the door, so that no one would see her changing, and probably moving stuff around trying to figure out where it was supposed to go. The leathery bits ended up just covering her, in the fashion of a bathing suit designed to optimize exposure to solar radiation. And there were shoulder pads, which seemed somewhat unnecessary, since half of her butt was hanging out. Perhaps she could attach them back there? Nope, they seem to be necessary as attachment points for the cape. Perhaps some sort of butt-cape? No, that doesn’t work either. The warm golden Titanian metal flowed smoothy around wrists and waist and neck. Slender snaking tubes worked their way under her arms and connected to the various leathery segments, even serving as very, um, ‘supportive’ structures that she found to be rather liberating, as without them any sort of movement led to more, um, ‘movement’ than she was entirely comfortable with. It felt kind of like warm hands cupping her…, and rigid psychic discipline ended that train of thought.
The golden metal also snaked around the upper portions of her legs, and she found it somewhat ironic that the metallic ‘jewelry’ ended up covering more surface area than the actual cloth costume elements. The boots were, what a shock, dark green leather, and brushing her hands across the leather, she was surprised to feel fine scales. Apparently it was designed to feel like reptilian hide. Unless, hideous thought, it was *actual* animal hide… Holding the offending item at arms length and scanning the inner tags and labels, she was comforted to see those happy words, ‘genuine synthetic.’
Finally, the last of the metallic ornamentation attached to her brow, with a lovely smooth green emerald center-set and she was done, the box was empty, and she’d never felt so naked, without actually *being* naked.
She whirled the translucent fabric of her cloak around herself, and, as expected, it concealed exactly nothing. <Wonderful. Let’s get this over with.>
The alarm went off again and Garth looked up at it bleary-eyed. He remembered that the Queen wanted them together for some sort of official ceremony in ten minutes, so he might as well get up and get ready.
Oh, that ‘Champion’s Garb’ showed up. Cool. Ripping open the box, Garth pulled out a skintight bodysuit in a shade of green so dark that it looked black at first. The gloves and boots were yellow, and golden lightning bolts traveled down the sides of the arms and legs, while a larger white lightning bolt ran directly down the center of the suit. Metallic golden bracers, belt and some sort of leg cuff things accompanied the outfit. ‘Neat.’
Pulling it on, Garth quickly ran his fingers through his hair, flexed a pose and dashed out the door.
Imra stood self-consciously in front of the Emerald Throne, arms-crossed and attempting to hide herself under her useless transparent cloak, while Rokk kept smirking and stealing admiring glances. Curse him, he’s practically wearing a suit of armor and I look like a Jazerri dancing girl, only not as pretty…
<Where’s Garth? I hope he hasn’t changed his mind! Great Thinker, what if he’s left and gone back to Winath…>
“You worry too much.” Rokk says, turning away, “I’ll go get him.”
He walks away quickly, before Imra can formulate a response, leaving her standing in front of the Queen, who is absently reading a datapad.
<Um, your majesty?>
Sarya looks up with a patient smile. “Yes, my child?”
<Is there any chance that there might a Champion’s Garb that has a little more, um…> floundering, she pirouettes around, showing her dilemma, <well, just *more.* Maybe something mysterious and regal, with flowing all-concealing robes?>
“Certainly not, dear. A Champion does not represent concealment or deception, she represents truth and honorable intent. If you are to be a Champion, you will have nothing to hide, no secret shame, nor display anything but pride in self. You are a beautiful young woman, and while I understand that it is Titanian tradition to conceal the material body in many layers of cloth, to admire and revere only the mind and not sully one’s thoughts with concerns over the disposition of the flesh, you are not on Titan. In this building, you stand among the traditions of Venegar, and as Venegarian tradition is prepared to honor you, I require you to similarly respect those traditions.”
“Did you have any other questions, dear?” Sarya finishes, looking back at her datapad, and Imra received the implicit message that this conversation was over.
Rokk stepped into the hallway that led to the quarters, and Garth came jogging into view immediately, somewhat out of breath.
“Hey, I’m not late am I? I thought it didn’t start for another couple minutes…”
“No, you’re not late.” Rokk said curtly, before putting his arm on Garth’s shoulder. “Look, Garth, I’m only saying this as a friend. If you’re going to jog in that thing, for the love of iron, put some underwear on…”
“Uh. Okay.” Garth grew uncharacteristically silent as they walked down the corridor to the Queen’s throne room. “Look, Rokk. I just wanted to say, y’know, just before anything gets weird…”
“What.”
“I like girls. I mean you’re cool and all, and I don’t have any problem with that sort of thing, and I like you, but I don’t *like you,* like you…”
“Never before has a Champion of Venegar been from any world other than Venegar. By choosing you three for this honor, I break with centuries of tradition, and so cast the lot of Venegar with the United Planets, in hopes of creating *new* traditions, for a new day!”
“For it is not the blood that flows in one’s body that makes a Champion. Since the earliest days, Champions have come from those of noble blood, and from those of common stock, for it is the *spirit* of a Champion that is recognized by Regent. Heroes are not born, they are made, forged in fire and adversity, and you three have shown the fire that reveals to all doubters that heroes are not just from Venegar. They can come too from Braal, and from Titan, and from Winath. Whether you choose this day to stand at my side as Champions or not, you *are* heroes, and no honor I could bestow could change this simple truth. I only acknowledge what already will be made known to all, that we stand in the presence of noble spirits, deserving recognition.”
“Stand forth Imra Ardeen, if you would be Champion, but be honored no matter your choice.”
Allowing her flimsy cape to fall back past her shoulders, no longer attempting to conceal her body from sight, Imra walks forward and bows her head, placing her hand forward, palm-side up.
<I would be honored to serve as your Champion, my Queen.>
Sarya smiles, and passes her hand in front of her crown. A green glow comes from behind her hand, and when she turns it around, the round emerald that sat in the center of the crown has somehow separated itself from it’s golden setting, and now floats before her hand. Lowering her hand, the emerald orb now floats before Imra’s widened eyes, and swells before her until it is the size of a man’s head. Inside of the spherical stone, a great star can be seen twinkling and Imra can hear voices of encouragement, as if from far away.
“You see now the Eye of Ekron, the stone of succession and chooser of the Rulers of Venegar. As the stone chose me to bear it through this lifetime, so shall it now ascertain your worth to serve as Champion. Every King and Queen of Venegar will see your face, and know your heart, but have no fear, for I already know their verdict.”
“Place your hand upon the stone.”
Without question, Imra does this, and feels a warmth course through her. From the surface of the stone, the crystal seems to bulge beneath her hand, and before her eyes, two tendrils of emerald extend from beneath her hand, and unite over her ring finger, merging into a seamless whole. With a painless surge of pressure, her hand is pushed from the surface of the stone, and she now bears a band of solid emerald.
“You carry now the Champion’s Ring. May it serve you body and soul, as you serve the cause of truth, body and soul.”
“You may now stand down, Champion Imra Ardeen.”
The process repeats with the remaining Champions, and Sarya completes the ceremony, dismissing the monitors and delegates who had stood in the galleries watching the proceedings.
“I understand that you have not grown up learning the lore of the Champions, and that some explanations are in order. Please be seated.”
The three Champions look around, but no seats are in evidence. Garth plops down on the ground, and after looking to see that the Queen seems to accept this without comment, Imra and Rokk also seat themselves.
“The Champion’s Rings are composed of the same stone as the Eye of Ekron,” the Queen says, the stone reducing in size and returning to it’s setting in her crown. “It has been a part of the ruling family since as long as there has been a ruling family, and it touches the souls of all who have born it. I can feel the encouraging presence of my parents, and their parents, and many others I have never met in this lifetime, Kings and Queens all. Through the Rings, you also will form a connection, and the Rings assist the Champions in three different ways.”
<<Firstly, you will hear my thoughts, if I wish it, even from across the universe, and in time, you will learn to communicate with each other…>>
<<<This is awesome, can you hear me, Imra? It’s like your telepathy! Hey, Rokk, how about you, is this working for you?>>>
“Or perhaps you will master it far in advance of my expectations,” the Queen adds dryly, with a glance at Garth.
<<<She’s so hot when she gets all Queen-y. Oh Great Harvest, how do you turn this off!>>>
Rokk reaches over and snatches the Ring from Garth’s finger and places it in his hand. “Down boy.”
“Ahem. Thank you, Champion Krinn.” Sarya quickly proceeds, “As the Ring entwines within your soul, to allow communication, so too does it enjoin with your physical self, and, traditionally,” with a glare at Garth, “this also takes some time.” Garth is still studiously examining his left foot, which has apparently become endlessly fascinating, holding his Champion’s Ring in his hand and glaring at it.
“You will find that the Ring sustains your physical state, such that you will find yourself in less need of sustenance, and even able to withstand extremes of temperature, pressure or deprivation of oxygen. The effect is limited. You will not be able to enter a raging inferno, but you will find that no matter the amount of cloth covering your form,” she smiles at Imra, “your body will not feel a chill, and you may indeed be able to hold your breath for hours, depending on the strength of your lungs.”
“Will we be able to fly?” <What?> “Fly!?!”
“Yes indeed Champion Krinn. I see that you have been reading up on the subject.”
“’On Wings of Emerald,’ according to the poem.”
“Exactly! As you have seen, the Eye of Ekron is able to levitate itself, and defy the forces of gravity. This Rings will enable you to do the same, and normally I would caution that this also takes time and training, but somehow I would not be surprised for you to again defy expectations in this matter.”
Garth had already slipped his Ring back on, while studiously avoiding looking at the Queen, and was sort of hopping in place.
Imra simply raised her hand as if pointing towards the ceiling, and slowly majestically rose towards the ceiling.
“Hey! How are you doing that?”
“And now my Champions, it is time for you to take these new gifts and practice them outside of my Throne Room.”
<Yes, my Queen.> “By your leave, Highness.” “Yes, ma’am!”
Outside Imra floats imperiously a few meters above Garth, who bounds into the air laughing as she spun just out of his reach.
“How come you can do this! I trained to be a pilot, I should be the one flying around already! And how come I got the communication thing first, you should have gotten that…”
“She’s Titanian, Garth. A born telepath. The rings aren’t using telepathy, so she’s having to learn a new language. Trust me, she’ll be better than both of us once she finds the frequency…”
“But what about the flying? This is unfair! Come down here, you tease!”
<Ha ha, I don’t think so. You’ll figure it out if you want it bad enough. I’ve been flying since I was a girl, in my mind. It’s just another astral dream to me, only this time, I get to take my body with me and not leave it sleeping in bed.> Imra is whirling through the air, gauzy cloak swirling about her, reveling in her new freedom.
Finally, Garth manages to catch her ankle, and looking down, he’s now hovering a meter off the ground as well. She gently pushes him off while he’s distracted and he quickly stabilizes and swoops around her, arms wheeling madly as he swoops through the air in great arcs.
“I’m flying! I got it! You have to try this Rokk, it’s not hard at all!”
Rokk just crouches and uses his magnetic powers to hurl himself into the air like a rocket, his particular specialty from the magno-ball courts, and then uses his powers to stabilize himself.
“Whoah!”
<He’s cheating and using his own powers. He hasn’t even started to use the Ring yet…>
“What’s cheating? I’ll figure it out, and then I’ll be faster than both of you…”
“Wanna bet. Hey, there’s the metro-dome. I bet I’ll get there first…”
<Not a chance, Garth. ReadySetGo!>
“Hey!! Cheaters! I'll get you for this!”
[ March 04, 2007, 10:01 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Registered: Aug 2006
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Set, I'm loving the story. I hope there is more coming, its really good to see some writing in the monthly gallery.
Vee, your Emerald Legion is awesome, I especially like the empress herself and Emerald Garth.
Sketchy, your emerald dreamy is excellent (as usual!)
From: Fort McMurray | Registered: Nov 2004
| IP: Logged |
Set
There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.
posted
Glad y'all like it. I've tried using the character generator for CoH to make up representation of the costumes I've envisioned, but they just aren't *perfect* and I suck at screenshots (they always end up dark and weird looking).
I've got two more installments. One dealing with the background of former magno-ball champion Kid Cosmos (Emerald Legion Cos), and the other revealing some of the alternate universe background of Garth and Imra.
If Sketch Lad wants to try his hand at them, hint, hint, I'd love to see 'em...
That picture of the Emerald Eye over Dreamy? Cree-pee! Yikes! Wake up Dreamy!
[ March 02, 2007, 05:36 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Registered: Aug 2006
| IP: Logged |
posted
Wow great turn out and love the variety of work already! I haven't finished my new piece for this month, but here's a couple of old pieces that are quite green naturally:
From: Alameda, CA | Registered: Dec 2003
| IP: Logged |
Set
There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.
posted
Emerald Legion, Chapter 3 "You have a hole in your mind" - wherein the convictions of our new Champions are put to the test
The UP sure knows how to make a new dignitary feel welcome, Rokk thought as he took in the amazing numbers of delegates and diplomats and ambassadors packed into the Queen’s throne room. The ‘Champions’ had been a big hit, for about six seconds, and then, as if a whistle had been blown, the delegates started spinning around in a dizzying whirl. At first he thought it was some sort of ritual dance or something, but standing back, he could see the patterns forming and breaking up. It was like some sort of chaotic fractal display, and the longer he watched, the better he could identify the power-players, to whom everyone else was orbiting. It was like a courtship dance, where the brightly colored animals dance around trying to draw the attention of the breeding females, and that comparison made him laugh, as one of the prime ‘breeding females’ was the dour Coluan Ambassador, Orin Fex, standing like a rock amidst an endless parade of people approaching him on some matter or another only to be rudely rebuffed, or outright ignored, at his whim.
Rokk was just close enough to eavesdrop, if he tilted his head just right, and a cute young girl who was certainly not old enough to be Ambassador of anything had caught the Coluan's sleeve and was standing on her tippy-toes trying to get his ear.
“It’s so green in here! You must be loving this, Orin, the entire room goes with you! But really, would have killed her to splash some other colors around?”
“The colors are tastefully arrayed Miss Guampti, and if you’d bothered to consider that the Venegarian visual range is centered around three distinct shades of what you call green, and that any color spectrum past yellow or blue is effectively black to them, you might have constructed a pair of lenses that allowed you to appreciate her eye for detail.” All delivered in a no-nonsense tone, as Orin Fex disentangled his sleeve from the young woman’s grasp with a surgical economy of motion. “As for your color, you are transparent, young lady. To your left stands Ambassador Ravin, reknowned for his lechery and lack of intelligence. Ply your wares in that direction.”
Rokk had been moving through the crowd slowly, pausing only to catch the last bit and bit back a smile as the young woman smiled brightly and flounced away towards the Talokkian Ambassador with a predatory gleam in her eye, apparently undaunted by her chilly reception from the Coluan appointee.
He wasn’t looking and suddenly there was a hand on his chest, stopping his forward motion before he collided with an older white-haired delegate and as he stepped back suddenly, an identical hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him from backpedaling into the Winathian Ambassador’s twin-brother. Mumbling apologies, he exited stage left, lingering to hear their dry exchange.
“Miss Guampti has assumed a new target.”
“Certainly not Orin Fex, I saw her prowling his direction…”
“Certainly not, although she made a valiant attempt.”
“Allow me to speculate. She burbled and flounced. He gave her a science lesson and a curt dismissal?”
“Just so.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I underestimated her charms. A science lesson and a curt dismissal? I do believe that constitutes sexual intercourse for a Coluan…”
“Very droll. And now she has her targeting reticles all over Ambassador Ravin.”
“Fish in a barrel. But he’s slippery, she might end up with nothing to show for her exertions.”
“Did you hear about her work with the Rimborian Criminachs?”
“Only that they signed an exclusive and punitive trade agreement with Caarg. Was that her doing?”
“Indeed. Five of the eight Syndicate leaders scoffed at the Caargite offer, recognizing that it was far to the advantage of Caarg. Over the next two days she seduced her way through their ranks, and when the final tally was held, they voted unanimously to go with the Caargite offer.”
“Breathtaking! Did they discover that they had been duped?”
“They did, but they were not mere elected rulers. Each Criminarch is head of a backstabbing association of murderers, thieves and extortionists, each waiting for the first sign of weakness in their leaders so that they can strike them down and take their place. And so the eight were forced to smile and proclaim their excitement and enthusiasm about their new trade alliance. It was a glorious sight. Then they piled back into their fleet of cruisers and headed back for Rimbor. Rumor has it they were firing on each other before they left the system…”
“She is a marvel, her father must be so proud. Do be careful, your taste for underaged morsels is well known, brother.”
“Oh, you wound me. Speaking of underaged morsels, how is your new wife?
“Most uncalled-for, I merely have your best interests at heart.”
Rokk grinned at the last, but noticed that the older brothers weren’t even looking at each other as their traded jibes, each facing the other and watching over his brothers’ shoulder to take in the entirety of the room, between them. There was no venom in their words, and he quickly realized that it was all for show. Their glittering eyes missed nothing, and their bickering served only to create the appearance of distraction.
And then any attempt at remaining a detached spectator ended, as the Braalian Ambassador plowed her way through the intervening delegates to stand right in his face. Ambassador Rela Martt had been a miner, and through hard work and back-breaking discipline, moved through the ranks of supervisor, manager, corporate flak, executive and was within a hairs-breadth of being the youngest CEO when she was side-shuffled into the diplomatic corps by terrified rivals, eager to get the woman they called ‘the guard-dog’ as far from Braal, and their own careers, as possible. She was the last person in the universe to be made Ambassador to anything, being notorious for her abrasive attitude, taste for micro-management and utter loathing of any idea that did not come from her own head. Absurdly, her stocky frame was draped in the frilliest pale yellow dress, with lace and many tassels, which snapped angrily in the air around her like hissing snakes as she maneuvered her fire-plug-like frame into his personal space.
“Mr. Krinn. I thought I saw you skulking around. I don’t know what Venegar was thinking, proclaiming the likes of you are her Champion, but it certainly sets her down a peg in my estimation.” Her meaty hand thumped on his chest as she stared up at him, “Do NOT do anything to bring further shame on your family, Krinn. You’re a screw-up, and it’s an insult to Braal that you are out here partying it up with your betters while hard-working Braalians are trying to restore the integrity of the sport.”
And with that she was gone, stomping away on her thick hairy legs.
Rokk set down his drink with a shaking hand, ‘Well. That went well.’
Imra had left early, complaining about the ‘noise’ of all the alien minds with their multiple agendas being a bit overwhelming. Thanks to the Champion’s Ring, he was dimly aware that she had gone outside, and was now either hovering over the building or perhaps seated on the roof, probably gathering her focus before making another attempt.
Garth had been standing in a corner, trying not be noticed, but with the amount of people present, it was hard to find wall-space, and it came as no surprise to Rokk when he checked the Ring and determined that Garth was also outside, near Imra. He’d noticed that Garth had become conspicuously absent about the same time as the Winathian Ambassadors arrived, and was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t the only Champion in no great hurry to be reminded of home and family…
Still somewhat shaken by the encounter with Ambassador Martt, Rokk almost dismissed the sight of a Karthooni diplomat shaking her head in disgust and waking out of one of the curtained alcoves. He moved towards her, but she just raised a hand and kept walking. Curious now, he moved quietly towards the entryway and peered within, only to see some huddled figures in whispered negotiations.
<<Garth! Imra! Get down here, now.>>
Already the whispering had paused, and someone had noticed a presence at the door, so Rokk just walked in, “*There* you are. Do you know how hard it is to set something like this up? We’ve got a hundred people out there, each with their own specific needs, and it would look appalling if we didn’t have the ability to accommodate our guests.”
The drug-dealer had gone into a defensive stance, moving his product into a fold in his robes, but seemed cautious. “What you mean, young Champion? I assure that the presence of security is not required, nothing untoward is occurring, simple negotiator of passage through extra-spatial rifts in the Vega sector, I am.”
“Security? No, I serve the Queen, and nothing you are doing violates Venegarian law. I’m here to buy. You sell, yes?” shifting to the staccato rthyms of gutter-speak felt natural, and Rokk felt soiled just hearing the words roll off his tongue, especially after his meeting with the Braalian Ambassador. ‘If she could just see me know. She’d kill me herself…’
Rokk hadn’t managed to make out the whispered words, but it sounded like it ended with ‘fire.’ Hearthfire was a happy narcotic, barely illegal. So Rokk picked the worst option, “I need Mindfire, and a lot of it. Payment will be in star emeralds.” The dealer’s multifaceted eyes clicked as the man shifted his focus. Rokk knew he had his direct attention now…
<According to the Ring, Rokk is in the left-most chamber.>
<<Stay outside, and out of sight.>>
“What’s going on?”
<There are two others in the room. Sweet concepts, they are negotiating for drugs!>
“What?”
<This can’t be right. Rokk just said that he wants Mindfire!> Imra started moving with purpose towards the room, but Garth pulled her back.
“He said stay out of sight.”
<Let go of me, you don’t understand, Garth. He said Mindfire!>
“You’re right, I don’t understand. But I trust Rokk. Let’s do as he says.”
<<Okay, I’ve convinced him that I need more, before the end of the party. He’s going to go back to his source. Imra, can you follow him without being seen?>>
<If he sees me, I’ll destroy his mind.>
<<Imra!>>
“Great harvest, Imra!”
<Fine. We follow him. We find his source. *Then* I end him…>
<<He’s got a man watching me, and I can sense a transmitter in the bag he gave me, so he’s going to know if I follow him. I can’t short it out without him knowing something is wrong, and I don’t want to just leave it here.>>
<Garth and I will follow him…>
<<He’s moving.>>
Imra spins around and grabs Garth in a passionate kiss, throwing him up against the wall.
<<Okay, we’re attached to the hull of his ship, flying off to harvester-knows-where. I love this plan. So what’s Mindfire, and why does it make you go psycho?>>
<It’s a drug.>
<<I figured that part out.>>
<It gives most races a sense of profound oneness with the universe, and rush of sensation that has been known to kill people in poor physical condition.>
<<So, say no to Mindfire…>>
<That’s not it. The reason I’m ‘psycho,’ is because of the source.>
<<The suspense? It’s not actually killing me here, but it does kinda itch.>>
<They make it by torturing a Titanian, and distilling the neurotransmitters from her system. To get a pure dose, they have to terrorize her to the point of nervous collapse, and because she’ll never be quite as terrified by the same thing the same way, they have to find new creative ways to terrorize her to keep the dosage levels pure. Eventually she’s so broken that they can’t scare her anymore, and they discard her as useless.>
<<Okay, I’m on the psycho shuttle now, too. Let’s fry these creeps…>>
<We’re slowing down, I’ve told Rokk that we’ve arrived. Oh, prime mover, there are a half-dozen people here. I can’t hide us from all of them, Garth…>
<<Fine. Keep yourself out of the line of fire.>>
<They have guns, Garth, and you can’t stun them all!>
<<I’m not on a space-cruiser surrounded by paying guests, Imra. I’m not going to shoot to stun...>>
The landing bay was deep underground, and as the shuttle landed, alarms began to sound and various sentients began to produce weapons. The dealer leapt out of the shuttle in surprise as a meaty tentacle seized him out of the air. “You fool! You’ve led them right to us!”
With that Garth came flying around from behind the shuttle and cut loose, blinding yellow flashes of lightning flying in all directions. Two gun-toting crims fell to the ground, not even twitching, without even having time to bring their guns to bear. Within seconds, the remaining four present had pointed various weapons at him, but they couldn’t seem to get a bead on him, as he flew through the landing bay at breakneck speed, flinging lightning bolts indiscriminately in his wake. Swooping through the air like some crazed stunt-pilot, at one moment he was swinging around the parked shuttle in a deadly game of keep-away, the next he was skimming along the ground mere centimeters from the surface, flying directly under one spindly-legged gunman and blasting him in what should be a most sensitive location, assuming his anatomy conformed to humanoid standards. Based on how he curled up and whimpered, Imra assumed this to be the case.
Still, the three remaining gun-men had regained their composure, and the blaster-fire was getting too thick for Garth to dodge. Imra tricked one into shooting another, while Garth wasted a moment attempting to electrify the deck plates and stun the tentacled leader. Unfortunately, the plates were too well insulated, and a well-aimed blaster-shot struck him from the air.
<Garth!> Imra made it to where he had landed unconscious, a smoldering hole in his shoulder, and reaching into his mind, she screamed, <WAKE UP!>
“Aaaagh!” Garth jerked awake in time to see Imra standing directly behind the original dealer they had pursued. For some reason he was pointing a gun into empty air and talking while Imra had picked up a fallen man’s gun and was holding it like a club.
“I’ve got you now, female. Surrender.” the noisome creature menaced.
“Dude, she’s behind you…”
Whack! Thud.
“Told you.”
Imra helped Garth to his feet, only to freeze, as a half-dozen more armed thugs entered the hangar-bay. The tentacled leader clarified their mission objective. “What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them both!”
<Gulp.>
“Here goes everything…” and suddenly both Garth’s lightning blast and a half-dozen blaster bolts intersected on the hapless shuttle. There had been an explosive rush of air and a thunderous explosion, and in the blink of an eye, the shuttle was parked, on it's side, directly between the young Champions and the gunmen.
“Hey guys. Thanks for saving me some.”
“Man, am I glad to see you, Rokk.”
<I can sense the Titanian here. We need to get to him.>
“One thing at a time, Im. Crazy gun-men first.”
With that, the gunmen came around the smoldering shuttlecraft on both sides, only to fall back as a storm of metallic objects from all over the hangar-bay and lightning bolts drove them back.
<Throw the shuttle at them or something.>
“Can’t. I drained my reserves getting here and doing it the first time. It’s going to be days building up to that sort of stunt again. How about you Garth?”
“…”
“Garth?”
<WAKE UP!>
“Gah! Fine. I’m good. Let’s go.”
<Rokk, he’s losing blood. I can’t keep him awake much longer.>
A piece of metal hull fragment suddenly flew towards Rokk and hovered in front of him. “Can you zap this and make it hot, Garth?”
“Sure, why?” he asked, but already pouring current into the metal until it was glowing slightly around the edges. “It’s not going to hold a charge or anything… AARRGGH! WHAT THE SPROCK!!!”
The metal had suddenly spun around behind Garth and slapped onto his wounded shoulder. A sizzling sound and smell of scorched flesh assailed them.
“You were bleeding. It’s stopped now. You can kill me later, if we live.”
<I’m blocking the pain, Garth. We need to focus.>
“Block harder. ‘Cause I don’t think it’s working…”
<Look out!>
And with that, combat was resumed, as the three Champions took to the air, no longer able to shelter behind what was left of the shuttle.
“Science Police! Freeze!”
The gun-men pivoted, to pay attention to this new threat, as a dozen heavily-armed SP troopers pounded down the launch bay.
<No one did, it’s an illusion, I had to wide-cast it to get all of them. Strike now!>
Thanks to Imra’s illusory ‘cavalry,’ the three Champions quickly dispatched the remaining thugs, and the leader, four blaster pistols torn from his nerveless tentacles was backed against a wall.
<You will lead me to the captive.>
“Titanian. You think I’d be trafficking in Mindfire if I wasn’t shielded against your kind?” the ring-leader blustered. “Your powers are useless against me. Release me, or the prisoner dies.”
<You’re bluffing. You have no men left. And you’ve never met me, so don’t tell me what I can do.>
With a wet gurgling sound, the ring-leader flailed about and collapsed in a heap of twitching tentacles.
<I’ve got the codes to the door.> Imra thought-cast as she walked over his twitching body and opened the bulkhead behind him.
Garth nudged the twitching form with his boot, “Imra, you didn’t, like destroy his mind, did you?”
<No. He still remembers his name. In a few months, he should have re-learned how to control his limbs...>
Impatient, Imra flew down the corridor to a door and entered another code, to reveal a darkened room where a single emaciated figure, body covered with half-healed scars, lay enmeshed in tubes and wires and machinery.
“Imra, be careful…” Rokk began, but she seized the crystal helmet off of the man’s shaven head and immediately both of them jerked, and the minds of all four were seized as the two telepaths made contact, and the young man’s fear and pain were amplified through the room, endlessly looping and feeding back upon itself at the speed of thought. Garth fell over immediately, the new wave of pain blending with his own and dropping him like a stone, and Rokk felt his mind shuddering around him. He managed to lash out and shove Imra away from the young Titanian, severing the connection and ending the assault.
“Science Police! Freeze!”
Rokk just shook his head, “Great timing, guys.”
“I said freeze!” repeated an SP trooper, pointing a gun at Rokk’s head as he tried to get back to his feet.
“We’re with the Venegarian embassy and have diplomatic privilege. Contact your superiors.” Rokk said, with his hands raised palm forward in a show of submission.
“Sir, we’ve got the Mayor on the comm. She says anyone wearing a green ring is ‘a good-guy’ and to ‘give them all necessary cooperation.’”, interrupted another SP officer.
<I contacted the Queen at the same time as the SP. She’s covering for us.>
“We encountered a man dealing Mindfire at the Venegarian Embassy, which is our jurisdiction. We followed him back to his source, and have made the arrest. This is now your show, and we’ll get out of your way. But we need medical attention for this Titanian male, and our friend. Now!”
“Sir. I have no idea what’s going on here, but if the Mayor tells me to, I’ll take your word for it. Get these people out of here! And put out those electrical fires in the hanger-bay…”
They stood before the Queen, who was on the comm with the President of EarthGov, the Mayor of New Metropolis, the Sector Chief of the SP, the Titanian Ambassador, the Karthooni Ambassador (who was corroborating Rokk’s story, having also seen the original suspect ‘dealing’) and a bunch of other people that Rokk didn’t recognize.
“Excellent. This issue is resolved. Thank you for your supporting testimony as well, Ambassador Marin, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The Queen signaled that this meeting was concluded and the dozen floating panels winked out one by one, after an interminable series of parting statements.
The Queen took a pause and sighed heavily, and they shifted their feet uneasily. "Well, my young Champions. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since the Ceremony of Choosing, and you already have earned the gratitude of the Titanian government for rescuing one of their citizens, and, equally importantly, shutting down New Metropolis’ most notorious Mindfire supplier. As I have honored you, so now you so quickly prove your worth by honoring me with your bold acts,” she pauses to look at Garth, still wearing a regen-pack on his shoulder, “and at great personal risk to yourselves.”
The Queen rose from the Emerald Throne and bowed her head before her stunned Champions. “Thank you.”
She sat back down as they gaped, smiling slighty. “Now, please. Do try not to stir up any more excitement today. I have a full schedule.” Sarya waved her dismissal, indulging in a warm smile to her departing Champions.
[ March 04, 2007, 10:02 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Registered: Aug 2006
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posted
Here are a few more members of the Emerald Legion.
First, at the request of Techwych & Sketch Lad, here's another view of Emerald Dawn...
And Sketchy's favorite Legionnaire...Emerald Dreamer
-------------------- "Hey Jim! Get Mon out of the Zone!! And...when do we get Condo back?"
From: Paragon City on patrol | Registered: Jul 2003
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-------------------- "Hey Jim! Get Mon out of the Zone!! And...when do we get Condo back?"
From: Paragon City on patrol | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
-------------------- "Hey Jim! Get Mon out of the Zone!! And...when do we get Condo back?"
From: Paragon City on patrol | Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
And last but not least (for now)...Emerald Enchantress
-------------------- "Hey Jim! Get Mon out of the Zone!! And...when do we get Condo back?"
From: Paragon City on patrol | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
Rokk shuffled uneasily, waiting for the Queen to finish her meeting with the Orandan ambassador.
After a seemingly endless round of particularly insincere, ‘Oh no, it’s *my* honor, majesty,’ they finally left and Sarya’s smile remained frozen on her face until the last of them had bowed and curtsied their way out of the room, at which point she flung her barely-touched goblet of Orandan dream-wine behind her. “Even your choice of beverages is both sweet and bland. Good riddance.”
Rubbing her temples, she noticed her Champion standing patiently and motioned him forward.
“Do you require something Champion Krinn?” she asked perfunctorily.
“If this is a bad time, majesty…”
“Do not waste my time with sycophantry. This world has far too many diplomats already. Always speak your mind to me without fear.” the Queen gestured impatiently.
“I was just curious, about the Champion’s Garb you selected. It’s Braalian mag-steel, but it takes months to energize the structures once they are assembled, and I can’t imagine that you had this lying around just in case you ran into a potential Braalian Champion…”
“Certainly not.” She admitted. “One of my agents found it for sale. The magnetized discs were crafted for the Braalian Export Commisioner to wear to his wedding.”
“The one that didn’t happen, because his intended eloped with their best man?”
“Correct,” the Queen smiled. “Apparently he had no interest in having such an unhappy reminder hanging around and ordered it disposed of. His aide decided that ‘disposed of’ meant ‘sold for a tidy profit.’”
“But it’s perfectly calibrated to my preferred resonance, which is pretty rare…”
“Unique, actually, but quite available to anyone who bothers to look up the vital statistics of reknowned magno-ball celebrity, ‘Kid Cosmos,’ three time planetary champion at the Braalian annuals. You do still have a few fansites active, you know…”
Wincing, Rokk attempted to lead away from this line of questioning, “So you just ordered it re-calibrated?”
“Correct. It may take months to charge the matrices, but it takes mere hours to re-calibrate them to your unique specifications.” The Queen steepled her fingers and leaned back. “Now, perhaps you can answer me a question. Tell me the story of ‘Kid Cosmos,’ his rise and fall. Tell me of this ‘ferrous hydraxaline.’”
Face darkening, Rokk’s posture stiffened, but he answered, eyes fixed on the enormous dinosaur directly behind the Queen, as if unwilling to meet her eyes.
“I was three-time champion, top of the rankings, with thousands of fanatical fans who followed me around like I was some sort of god. People paid more attention to my comings and goings than the President of the Mining Consortium. But there’s always someone waiting for you to fall, so they can be number one, and some of them aren’t willing to wait. After three years, one of my rivals decided to slip ferrous hydraxaline into my food. They had people *living in my house,* pretending to be my loyal fans, scrubbing my back, bringing me breakfast in bed, and, oh yes, *poisoning* me.” Rokk’s fists had unconsciously clenched and his arms shook with anger, he took a steadying breath before continuing,
“Small doses of Faith boost a Braalian’s magnetic intensity, although it makes fine control more difficult.”
Sarya raised a finger to interrupt the narrative, and Rokk looked stunned momentarily, as if he’d forgotten he had an audience, “Excuse me, ‘Faith?’”
“It’s the street-name for ferrous hydraxaline. They first discovered it as a clear liquid seeping out of a crystalline formation in an underground temple, and the visitors to the shrine would dab the liquid in their eyes, which would allow them to see metal veins in the walls. They called it ‘faith.’ It was never particularly safe, and sometimes people would go blind if they used it too much. Over the years, they refined it to be a thousand times more potent, and a thousand times worse for you…”
“Occasionally, some loser will use Faith to boost his power, to try and compete out of his league, but generally the lack of control gets them in more trouble than the power-boost is worth, and there is inevitably long-term nerve damage as crystalline structures start forming in the nerves and tearing apart the cells.”
“They fed me enough of the stuff to kill a half-dozen people. Turns out the flunkies they had dosing me up overdid it in their drive to impress their boss. I had mood swings, which the press loved. Every week there was some new report of me flipping out and threatening someone, and it was only a matter of time before the power-surges became too intense for me to control, and things just started falling apart around me. My body was so full of Faith by this point that they didn’t even need to drug-test me, the doctor could feel the contamination when they brought him into my cell. It took a dozen people to shut me down, my powers were so out of control, and so artificially boosted, and I was ranting and raving about plots and conspiracies and jealousy.”
“Ironically, I was right about that. There *was* a plot. But it didn’t matter, my entire nervous system was so degraded by that time that their attempts to remove the drug from my system was just as dangerous. The drug had *replaced* my nervous system, and if they removed it, I’d be paralyzed. It didn’t matter that it was obvious that I hadn’t willingly attempted to overdose and kill myself, I would never compete again, and my title was stripped. I spent the next six months in and out of hospitals, living in my parents’ house while they tried to deal with my imbalances. My mind, my body, my powers, all of them were going haywire, and I was a constant danger to everyone around me. I’d be so angry that they had to slide food under the door, or even call in security to restrain me, and then I’d be so depressed that my brother would skip work-shifts and classes to sit by my bed because they were afraid to leave me alone.”
“Finally, I gained enough control that I could get up and walk around under my own power, but the doctors were baffled. My nerves were gone, rotted away, but still I was moving, and the veins of crystallized ferrous hydraxaline served somehow as magnetic conduits. I wasn’t ‘walking,’ so much as jerking myself around by sheer magnetic manipulation. Lots of therapy later, I was able to walk, and talk, and feed myself, and spent a lot of time apologizing to my family…”
The queen looked puzzled, “If everything was starting to finally come together, why did you choose that time to leave Braal?”
“Lots of reasons. I *hated* Braal. One minute, I’m the most popular man on the planet, the next, I’m some cheating druggie pariah, and the people who used to wait for hours to shake my hand are now defacing my statue outside the coliseum and spitting at my brother when they saw him on the street. My people are hyper-competitive, and the only thing that gets the crowd howling more than a hero, is to see a hero fall…”
“But it was my all about my brother, really. Pol worshipped me, and he never gave up on me. He was never as good at anything, and he just got used to that. Anything he did, I’d done two years before, and yet he seemed fine with that. When I fell, he was so angry, but he never believed for a second that I had cheated, and he stood by me. But when the doctors came back with their reports of ‘miracles’ and being able to walk again and being more powerful than ever before, I failed to realize what this would mean to him. He saw it as his chance to be like me, and he started taking Faith.”
The Queen looked alarmed, “Did it harm him, as it did you?”
“We caught him in time. There wasn’t much nerve damage, and they managed to repair it all, but I couldn’t let him keep thinking that I was some sort of role-model, so I faked a massive relapse, and convinced the doctors to spread the word that my systems were failing again, and that I’d be paralyzed for life, my powers burnt-out and uncontrollable. We agreed that it was for the best that nobody on Braal think that the fluke that had happened with me meant that they should dose themselves with that poison on the one in a billion chance that it didn’t cripple them, or worse.”
“So I left for Earth, for some ‘experimental treatment’ that might allow me to live a ‘normal life,’ and I’d planned on keeping a low-profile until I could fake some sort of exo-skeletal suit.”
Rokk lifted his arms and smiled, “And now, I’ve got this suit, and I’ve told Pol that I’m still paralyzed, but this special suit lets me walk around like a normal person… As far as anyone on Braal knows, I’m a cripple, only able to move my limbs through the use of special machines.”
“I was a hero on Braal, celebrated for my athleticism and mastery of my powers. Now I’m a cautionary tale. Parents warn their kids not to be like me and waste their lives.”
The Queen settled back into her seat, having been unconsciously leaning forward, “Thank you for sharing this part of yourself, Champion Krinn. Your words are reassuring to me.”
“Reassuring? I don’t understand…”
“If I had ever had any doubts about my choice, which, I must stress, I have not, you would have reassured me that I was correct in my choice. You are indeed a Champion.”
[ March 04, 2007, 10:23 AM: Message edited by: Set ]
Registered: Aug 2006
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posted
Set, this si a great story you are giving us. Please keep it going.
-------------------- "Hey Jim! Get Mon out of the Zone!! And...when do we get Condo back?"
From: Paragon City on patrol | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
Set
There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.
posted
quote: Vee quoth - Set, this si a great story you are giving us. Please keep it going.
Glad you like it! Thanks for the encouraging words! I'm also enjoying your artistic use of the CoH character generator. I'm jealous!
A few more sections have written themselves, much to the disruption of my sleeping habits...
As with the previous sections, this is very much an alternate universe, so I apologize in advance for horrific violations of much-loved characters, and completely re-interpreted world-settings, since I've never been entirely fond of the depictions of Titan, Braal or Winath.
Emerald Legion – Chapter 5 “Dysfunction” – Imra learns an uncomfortable truth about Garth
The reception at the Xanthu’un Embassy was fascinating to Sarya, full of exotic animals and fragrances and energetic performances. Certainly the colors were tiresome, black on black on black, with the occasional splash of yellow, but apparently the colors chosen were considered to be quite complimentary to those with visual ranges to see them.
She had artfully dodged the Winathian Ambasssadors thrice, but this time she was out-foxed, caught between a babbling pack of Athramites and the droning introduction of a Dryadan emissary who… would… not… shut… up! In a classic pincer movement, the twin Ambassador flanked her and appeared at each arm, and the while she had not sought out this encounter, she had to admit admiration for their tactical acumen, and gratitude for ‘rescuing’ her from the Dryad, who had spent the last several minutes reciting his family lineage.
Cutting them off as they began their legendary two-pronged verbal assault, “Yes, I *have* received your missives, and yes, indeed, one of my new Champions is from Winath. Garth Ranzz is a fine young man and does your world a great honor.”
“Be that as it may, Highness, his family has expressed some concerns. Apparently, he left homeworld unannounced and they simply wish to contact him, if he happens to be available…” the Ambassadors wore matching smiles, and Sarya had already forgotten which of the two identically clad twins was which. She pointedly looked in-between them, “Champion Ranzz has fulfilled the Ritual of Choice, and is a lawful adult, is that not true?”
“Be that as it may, Highness…” one began, while the other expounded, “reports of his injury raise concerns…”
“*Then* he is free to live on Winath, or Earth, as he chooses.” Sarya cut in, placing a hand on each Ambassadors chest and pushing them gently, but relentlessly apart, to clear a path between them, “*If* you have a message to pass on from his family, and I’m *sure* that it is merely an oversight that his communications have not yet reached them, I will be happy to pass that message on at our next meeting. Champion Ranzz is a hard-working and honest soul, and I have no doubt that even as we speak he has his hands quite full with the pressing duties of his station. Good day.” Giving the Winathians a spare moment to produce a message, Sarya summarily bulled through their carefully constructed barricade and walked away.
Garth Ranzz dozed intermittently, ring-hand flung over his bare chest while his other arm was currently entangled under the snuggling form of Imra Ardeen, who was idly toying with the fingers of his ring-hand. The regen-pack was gone from his shoulder, and only a bare patch of skin, slightly pinker than the surrounding tissue, gave any sign of the near-mortal wound so recently inflicted.
<Garth?>
“Mmmm?”
<Can I ask you a personal question?>
“I guess, s’not like I could keep anything from you anyway,” he replied with a sleepy half-grin.
<You know I’d never pry into your mind, I was just curious about something.>
“I trust you, I’m sorry, go ahead,” Garth’s eyes were open now, and his voice revealed his concern that he’d said something wrong.
<I’ve been reading up, and Winathians usually don’t leave home-world without their twins. I hate to ask, because I’m afraid to bring up something that might be bad…>
“No, no, I have a twin. Heck, I have two siblings, actually…”
<Two? How is that possible? I thought all Winathian births were identical twins?>
“I’ve got an older brother, Mekt. He was a singleton.”
<Did something happen? Was there an accident?>
“No, not unless it happened real early. By the time mom knew she was pregnant, the doctors could only find one baby in there. At first they thought it might be a false pregnancy or something, but it was real enough. He was just alone.”
<That’s a big deal on Winath, right? To be all alone?>
“Yeah, it’s like being born without any legs or something. Like someone being born on Titan without telepathy, I guess… Anyway, he was all messed up, because of that. And then me and Alayn were born, and it just kind of reinforced what a freak he was. He didn’t like us much, and we didn’t really understand why he was mean to us, and so angry all the time, so *solitary.*”
<Did something happen to Alayn?>
“Yes. Well, no. I don’t know. We were just normal twins, like any other. I’d get up in the morning, and he’d be stretching and I’d run my hand through my hair and he’d run his hand through his hair and we’d both nod and head off to school. We didn’t need a mirror, we could just look at each other and see what we looked like. I’ve read that twins on other worlds end up dressing different or getting different hair-cuts or act different, sometimes one becomes ‘the confident one’ and the other becomes ‘the shy one’ or something, but that’s not how it works on Winath. We don’t *want* to be individuals. If my twin looks like me, if I’m wearing the same shirt, if he finishes my sentence and I catch the book he drops before it hits the ground, that’s how it’s *supposed* to be. If an off-worlder can’t tell us apart, that just means that we share something that they lack, not that there is something wrong with *us.*”
<And?>
“And then Alayn started keeping secrets from me. Well. One secret, anyway, but it was the biggest secret. I’d wake up, and he’d already be up, looking at himself in the mirror like he was staring at a stranger, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’d catch him looking at me, like something was wrong with my face and he wouldn’t tell me what. I never figured it out. I shouldn’t have *had* to figure it out, he was my twin. I should have *known.*”
<Known what, Garth?>
“When we reached the age of Choosing, he started taking Pro-Fem, and calling himself Ayla.”
<Oh!>
“Yeah. Oh. I couldn’t understand. It’s the way we are, to be like each other, and here he was deliberately choosing to look different, to become a different person, as unlike me as could be. It was the worst kind of rejection, like something was awful and ugly about me, that he had to change himself so badly to get away from me. I was angry and we fought about it all the time, and as the months went by, his body kept changing and every day his face looked less like mine, and I felt a little more of myself slipping away.”
<That must have been hard, but wasn’t it Ayla’s choice to make? I’m sure she didn’t make this choice to hurt you…>
“Yeah, I get it now, but it was so hard to deal with. Mekt would laugh at us, say we were a family of freaks, first him, then Alayn, and now he was gonna stick around just to see what sort of freakshow I turned into… And then there was the accident, and the scientists were poking and prodding at us, and I just couldn’t take it. I left. Walked into town and caught a ride to the spaceport, and begged every ship-captain in port to just get me off of Winath.”
<And that’s how you ended up on the Quantus?>
“Yeah, Captain Frake said I looked like a ‘healthy specimen’ and ran me through my paces, but I got a working passage out of it…”
<Souls in repose! Oh Garth, I didn’t know…>
“What? Oh no, it wasn’t bad or anything. I would have done anything to get off-world, and all she wanted was to get off period. I guess the big dumb meatworlder look really draws in the sophisticated inner world sorts...” The bitterness creeps in, no matter how dismissive Garth attempts to sound.
<Don’t you dare! You’re not a dumb farm-boy, and Sarya would march right in here and smack you for thinking that! The Queen of Venegar says you’re destined to be a hero, are you going to tell her otherwise?> Imra was sitting up now, holding Garth down with her hand as he tried to get up.
“Uh, no. I think she’d kick my butt.”
<Right, and she’d have to wait in line, because the line to ‘kick your butt’ would go around the building and I’d be in it twice! And don’t for an *instant* think that the big, dumb lunk thing is the only thing you have going on. You don’t think *I’m* attracted to that, do you?>
“Uh, there is no right answer here, is there?”
<Probably not.> Visibly calming herself, Imra continued with less fervor, <My turn. I grew up on Titan, a frozen chunk of hell where the people have to live inside pressurized arcologies, to protect them from the way-below-freezing temperatures and the too-thin-to-breath atmosphere. Everyone’s a telepath, and the concept of privacy? Non-existent. You wanted your brother to always be there, even drew comfort from that? I would put on a pressure suit and go stand on the methane glacier, just so I could be alone or five minutes out of the day…>
“I’d go crazy, if I didn’t have open skies…”
<Most of my people can’t stand open skies. They go crazy if they *aren’t* all lined up like vegetables all in neat orderly rows in their cozy little packages. At the age of Inclusion, when we are considered adults, we finally get to move out of the common rooms into our own private chambers, barely even big enough to stand up in. Our exercise routines consist of yoga and stretching exercises, because there isn’t enough room for us to be running around or playing any sorts of sports. Most of us are so wrapped up in ‘the life of the mind’ that they are only dimly aware of the physical world, creating works of art, or scientific theories, or doing remote work.>
Imra runs her hand over Garth’s chest,
<None of the males on Titan have muscles like this. None of them have *hair* on their bodies. None of them have skin this dark. Oh, sure, everyone’s in shape, because of the yoga and the biofeedback exercises, but nobody’s ever even seen meat, let alone eaten any. So when I say that I’m not one of those inner-world bimbos like Captain Frake, understand that you are as far from the Titanian standards of attractive as a man could get.>
“I didn’t mean…” Garth begins, but Imra puts her hand over his mouth,
<I know, I’m just making sure *you* know. If my mother saw you, she’d think I was completely insane, but it isn’t your muscles that I see, it’s your loyalty and your honesty and your longing for family and connection and stability. All these things are attractive to me.>
“Wow. Um, thanks. I’m going to sound really shallow if I say that I like your eyes, right?”
<No, just insincere. It wasn’t my eyes you spent the morning thinking about…>
“Hey, you said you wouldn’t read my mind!”
<I didn’t have to, I was there, remember…>
“Uh, no, actually, I’m forgetting. Help me remember?” Garth said with a grin, taking Imra’s hand in his own and leaning up to meet her.
Ah, a satisfying haul, Rokk thought as he balanced the tray of finger-sandwiches he’d managed to abscond from the reception going on upstairs. Time to see if the troops are…
A low sound from Imra’s quarters stops him in his tracks and he closes his eyes as he recognizes that it could only have come from Garth.
‘Well, that certainly didn’t take long.’
Having completely lost his appetite, Rokk sets the tray down on the floor and activates his Champion’s Ring, flying down the corridor at such speed that the pale green curtains whip about ferociously at his passage.
Bounding out of bed, Garth is at the doorway, poking his head out the curtain.
<Garth, put some clothes on before you leave my quarters!>
“I’m not leaving. See?” Proudly holding up a platter full of tiny sandwiches, “Food.”
<The valiant hunter returns. My hero. Close the curtain already.>
“Rokk must have brought us breakfast in bed. He’s so cool.”
<Uh, yeah. I’m sure that’s *exactly* what happened…>
“You don’t think he’s jealous, do you? And how do you manage to sound sarcastic in your head?” Garth mumbles around a sandwich containing unidentifiable meats and vegetables soaked in a pungent curry sauce.
<I’m not really sure. About either of those questions.>
“’Cause I talked to him about that earlier, about us just being friends and stuff, so I think we’re okay.”
<What!?!>
“You know, the whole male/male thing.” Garth made some sort of complicated docking maneuvers with his hands, betraying his uncertainty about the matter, “I’m not really into that, and at first I thought I hurt his feelings, ‘cause he seemed kind of angry, but he’s been okay with me since, so I think he’s over that man-crush thing...”
<HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!>
“Imra, are you okay?”
<HAHAHAHAHA! Snort.>
“Okay, breathe or something, you’re freaking me out…”
<BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!>
[ March 14, 2007, 08:42 PM: Message edited by: Set ]
Registered: Aug 2006
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