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itsbenedict · 5 years

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Kingdoms and Koopas: Ep. 6

K&K is a Fate Accelerated campaign set in the Mario universe, which I’m running for three players:

Bee @thebeeskneesocks, playing Kandace Koopa

Jovian @jovian12, playing Cozmo Naut

Malky @sleepdepravity, playing Dr. Chevy Chain

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Previously on Kingdoms and Koopas, the party survived a harrowing underground experience, arrested a bigshot crime lord probably, acquired a magical item, and were in the vicinity of Kandace while she did horrifying things.

This time... we’re leaving the Koopa Kingdom for a fun vacation! Woooo!

So, Kandace wants them there Music Keys, still- and her favorite test subject I mean minion I mean friend, Cozmo, is all too happy to go on a fun adventure to help her get them. Unfortunately, Dr. Chevy Chain would be all too happy to never interact with these chucklefucks again, so she needs an alternate reason to follow Kandace and Cozmo. That reason is... her boss at the hospital has ordered her to make a house call in the Magic Kingdom, which happens to be where the other two are headed!

Unfortunately, the road to the Magic Kingdom has problems on it. One of the problems is bandits. Y’know, Bandits. They’re like Shy Guys, but their masks are more like faces and they steal your crap? Bandits. They’re here to be a random encounter.

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Cozmo and Chevy begin fighting them off, but Kandace has an idea to end the fight quicker than that. Y’know her curse that she has? Her magical talking shadow, Carbonado, who makes her life difficult? Well, she’s prepared to bargain this time around- in hopes that maybe he can actually help.

Carbonado’s terms- in exchange for using the darkness to get very big and scary and scare the bandits off- are that Kandace must behave. This is a bit of a tall order, and she bargains him down to... using manners while in the Magic Kingdom. Which are still, likely, terms she’s going to violate, but hey.

Further down the road, they encounter... someone... they’ve... met before? It’s... a Shy Guy wearing a trenchcoat and a big bushy mustache, who would like to sell them some merchandise. It’s Deals Guy!

Immediate attempts to rip off Shady Guy’s mustache again (isn’t he supposed to be in jail?) are met with failure, as this happens to be... the Real Deals Guy. He actually has decent stuff to sell! Or... would. He’s kind of out of inventory right now, and is actually looking to buy. We try out the new Rich system I threw together (an extra stat you roll, Rich, which depending on the outcome tells you whether you can afford the thing, and whether you need to decrease your Rich to do so). Rolls ain’t great, but Kandace does buy a Super Leaf, once it becomes clear that the random crap off the floor he’s selling does include some useful items.

As they proceed, and as they’re getting closer to the magic kingdom, they meet a wandering wizard- and he has Prophecies for them! One about hearts, one about dreams, and one about paths. He can give them two true prophecies, and another false one- and they have to pick which ones will be true and which will be false. Which... shouldn’t be how prophecies work, but they agree, pick that “paths” should be false, and Merlon gets all SHA-ZIBBY, SHA-ZOOBY on ‘em. The prophecies are as follows:

'Thou shalt never be betrayed by those thou trusteth with all thy heart and all thy mind.'

‘The bow is a truer guide to the arrow's path than the arrow.'

'A dream is a nightmare waiting to happen.'

The second, on the subject of paths, is conveniently the false one- which they can get the true version of just by inverting it. Still... cryptic as hell, though.

Finally, though, they arrive in the Magic Kingdom.

Chapter 3: From the Stars

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Unfortunately- besides Chevy, who has an address she’s meant to head to- they have no idea where to go. The Music Key’s magical signature is just “up”- somewhere in the sky- and they need to find a way to get there. (And, Chevy needs to find a way to figure out how to reach the address in question, since the Mario world doesn’t have GPS.)

So they check an information booth, manned by a Star Kid named Astrid. She gets out a telescope and checks out the spot in the sky they mention- which, as it appears, is a strange ribbon of rainbow light... hm. I wonder...

As for getting up there- well, there’s ways. All kinds of ways! Except, there was recently a large destructive bomb-related accident down at the local Cannon District (where they keep all the Cannons That Shoot You Into Space), and there’s only two cannons left standing. Bullet Bud and Robert Omb attempt to convince the party (minus Chevy, who’s gone off to do her job elsewhere in the city after obtaining a map) that their cannon is the safe one and that the other guy’s cannon is a rickety mess that’ll explode in their faces.

(The paths prophecy, by the way, applied to this situation, though in keeping with Merlon’s “Useless Prophecies” aspect, nobody realized that the “arrow” is the Bullet Bill, and the “bow” is the explosive that fires the bullet- or the Bob-omb.)

No, they solve this dilemma by arbitrarily picking the right cannon- which Cozmo tests first. Unfortunately, they fail to notice a problem in time to stop it (but succeed in noticing it happening at all.) Robert Omb snuck around the side of Bud’s cannon and blew up as it fired, knocking Cozmo off-course. He goes flying up into the sky, and... well, he’ll probably be fine. Let’s assume he’s fine.

Kandace, noticing the sabotage, attempts to... mete out justice? Which is to say... draw a teleportation circle, and attempt to shove Robert Omb into it, to get rid of the cheating bastard. She barely fails the Forceful contest, but Bullet Bud helps her out with sending his rival off to... well, Ted the Storm God’s cloud, is the only place Kandace knows how to make her random-teleport spell come out, right now. Gonna be one confused Bob-omb, suddenly in the middle of Kam Ekademy.

Meanwhile... Chevy has a job to do. She’s arrived at the address, to make the house call she was specifically needed for. See, there was some kind of magical accident that cost everyone in a given radius of the patient to be unable to control their hands, which made things difficult for normal doctors. But Chevy doesn’t even have any hands, and so was considered perfect for the job.

Arriving at Rainbow Cruise Tours, she encounters a crew of concerned Bob-ombs who explain the situation. Their captain, apparently, stumbled in one day with a big piece of magical crystal sticking out of his chest, and fell into a coma on the bed. The crew didn’t have hands, but they also didn’t have surgical training- and most of the surgeons in the Magic Kingdom are Wizzerds, known for pretty much just having hands.

The job itself turns out to be pretty easy, and Chevy successfully removes the foreign object and resuscitates the patient- an odd, stout, yellow man with a heavy accent, a curly purple wig, and an inability to shut up. The Great Flavio invites Chevy on a sky cruise as a reward for her efforts, which she- having nothing better to do, now- agrees to. Like a fool.

Partway through the lovely flight on the sky boat in question, there is a THUMP as something impacts the side of the ship. And then manages to grab hold of the dangling anchor, rather than slide off the ship and fall to its death. This something, as it happens, is Cozmo Naut, who for reasons unknown was recently fired out of a cannon into the sky. Weird. Chevy confirms he isn’t going to fall, and then entirely declines to try and help pull him up.

Kandace, after probably doing a crime by magically banishing someone by force to another Kingdom, climbs into Bud’s cannon and fires herself up there, getting enough altitude that she can reach the Rainbow Cruise and rescue Cozmo using her broom (which would’ve been too difficult to ride all the way up there by herself.)

The cruise, though, appears to be making a stop somewhere else before heading up to... the rainbow ribbon in the sky that you’ve probably already figured out what it is. That they’ve actually figured out what it is, actually, so I’ll just tell you: it’s Rainbow Road, the famous kart-racing track.

But the pit stop is at... oh, just the Royal Castle of the Magic Kingdom. For guests to meet the princess, and stuff. No big.

As they arrive- and Cozmo and Kandace line up to meet the princess, while Chevy hangs back because when can Chevy ever be bothered- they encounter a... familiar face? Sort of? Except for how X-Nauts wear face-concealing goggles and stuff? It’s an X-Naut Cozmo used to know from back during the whole moon thing- Oneiro Naut. They catch up a little bit- apparently, Oneiro is doing some guard duty for the princess’s meet-and-greet, and in their spare time is researching dreams.

Researching dreams...? Dreams, dreams... there definitely wasn’t a prophecy about that...

Anyway, Cozmo and Kandace eventually reach the front of the line, and are face-to-face with Princess Opal herself!

(art by Bee)

Now, here’s a little bit of Kandace backstory that I don’t think I’ve mentioned in these recaps yet: when Kandace was younger, she was experimenting with teleportation spells, and... accidentally teleported herself into this very castle. It was a little surprising, but Opal took it in stride, and told the young magikoopa that she knew she’d be an amazingly powerful witch some day, before helping her get back home.

It was a pretty formative moment for young Kandace- and now, here she is, once again meeting her hero.

Who... absolutely doesn’t recognize her. Which is... fairly crushing, for a moment. But... hang on. This Opal is weirdly... sedate? Very calm, regal, princess-like. Which isn’t at all how she remembers her.

Suddenly, there’s a spark of realization, and Opal tells Kandace- and her friend- to head through a door just behind the throne area. Confused, they agree... and are dropped through a trapdoor and fall and fall and fall through some kind of magical sparkly hole. They land in... what looks like some kind of extremely messy magical workshop. And in that workshop is... the real Princess Opal.

She explains that the Opal doing the meet-and-greet up in the throne room is a decoy, there to handle all the princess-type duties she finds super-boring. What she doesn’t find boring is Kandace, who she does in fact remember. And she... has Kandace look at some weird magic instruments, and pokes her with a glowy detector rod thingy, and has her hold an orb which she then tosses into a machine which explodes, and generally sort of geeks out about Kandace’s nonspecific magic specialness. She’s very excited.

It’s kind of difficult for Kandace to follow a lot of Opal’s projects, which are very advanced and very hard to determine the actual purpose of. It seems there’s a lot of stuff here that’s unfinished, or that was never really meant to do anything besides look cool in the first place. Opal’s running all over the place, unable to stick to a topic for very long- because whose attention span wouldn’t be taxed by the many wonders of magic, right?

Anyway, Cozmo and Kandace tell her about their quest- to find a magical music-related orb of incredible power. Opal tells them that she’s pretty sure the big tournament is going to have something like that as a prize.

Tournament?

Yeah, the kart-racing tournament. On Rainbow Road. That one. Do they want to enter? YES they want to enter.

So Opal- who’s big into kart racing, along with apparently everything else- offers them pick of her old experimental karts, to borrow for the race! (She herself has been, uh, banned from participating, because she kept breaking vehicle regulations and causing magical accidents during races. Apparently the issue was bad enough that they actually banned their own princess, so... well, it’s probably totally safe.)

Cozmo picks out something with flame decals and lots of firepower- just a big ol’ beefy boy of a car, with a high top speed at the expense of handling. (He tests it out by crashing it directly into the wall of Opal’s workshop- pretty good at crashing!) Kandace, rather than pick out an old kart, works with Opal to soup up her broom, giving it a magical bike mode that increases its top speed at the expense of flight capabilities.

Meanwhile, Chevy is approached by a Buzzy Beetle who represents the Rainbow Road course management. Apparently, there are so many outlandish injuries that happen on Rainbow Road that most of their doctors have quit in horror, so they’re really looking for last-minute replacements. And so it is that Chevy takes on a part-time job, and is escorted to Rainbow Road by a Lakitu crew.

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The two racers, meanwhile, are escorted to the track personally, on karts towed behind Opal’s magical royal chariot. It’s a very stylish entrance, only slightly dampened by a Monty Mole mechanic at the track demanding that Opal leave immediately, in a panicked and horrified tone of voice. He can’t do this again! He can’t! (It’s fine, though- Opal’s just going to be spectating, honest!)

So we would leave off there, but... a couple strange things happen. One thing is that... Oneiro Naut is somehow amongst the crowds of spectators, despite having been at the castle a minute ago and not having been aboard the chariot when they left. So that’s weird.

And another thing is that... Kandace can still track the Music Key’s energy signature. And where it appears to be is... still up. Still straight up, in the sky just above Rainbow Road.

...It’s probably fine! See you next time!

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#kingdoms and koopas #mario

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derkastellan · 6 years

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Musings: Staying on-topic in setting design

I gave myself the time to read some RPG products, and I ended up in the genre of horror science fiction. I have an enormous backlog of products I have bought over the years but haven’t read, and so I simply picked some - Jovian Nightmares (for Call of Cthulhu), Eldritch Skies (for Savage Worlds), and Shadows Over Soul (especially Siren’s Call but also all supplements, for Saga Machine). Let me say I enjoyed the last series of products so much I basically have not found time to delve deeper into Eldritch Skies.

Jovian Nightmares introduces itself as a supplement for Cthulhu Rising, itself a setting supplement for the Call of Cthulhu role-playing game. It focuses on “Circum-Jove”, the Jupiter system. Since Jupiter is a gas giant science fiction settings usually focus on the colonization of its moons, or in rarer cases, interaction with Jupiter’s upper atmospheric layers.

Ever since reading the Buck Rogers XXVc roleplaying game in the early 90s Jupiter (and by extension Saturn) have fascinated me. The excellent material from the game box was evoking and interesting, and the distant world of moons and moonlets have kept drawing me back in over the years. So when I saw this supplement, I simply grabbed it. Also, a book can do worse to get my attention than having a dead astronaut on its cover.

So, this started me on the path to reading a bit of sci-fi. (Spoilers ahead, so ye be warned.)

The Jovian Nightmares setting is well-detailed, and you have to read quite a while to notice how the setting misses the mark. Practically all of the book is simply a science fiction setting supplement - and while interesting enough (more about that in a moment) it lacks one thing: Lovecraftian horror. Given it being advertised as “nightmares” this seems surprising. You might miss it if you’re not inclined to look for it.

The book contains 5 pages of setting secrets, several of which are repetitive paragraphs. Your mileage may vary, but almost without fail I have ended up being disappointed in products that feature a few pages of setting secrets. Almost invariably these come down to a paragraph or two per setting secret and end up not being very evocative, leaving the job almost entirely to the GM. Jovian Nightmares is a bit better than that, but the reality of it all is that its setting secrets are almost entirely useless.

A setting secret must not be “too secret.” Yet some of the secrets have no impact on gameplay by themselves. Who cares what lies at the heart of Jupiter? Or what is the reason for the Great Red Spot? We all do, but the players won’t care because the way the book establishes things they won’t ever find out. It’s useless information. The book also refuses to innovate in terms of Lovecraftian horrors, either repeating same-ol’-same-ol’ by parading out Mi-Go doing Mi-Go things (yes, they still put brains in jars in the 23rd century... we can only assume it’s a fetish), and some randomly tied-in Fire Vampires, Colors-Out-Of-Space, some Deep Ones, a possible tie-in to R’lyeh...

Boring.

Here is someone capable of writing a whole sci-fi supplement of a decent quality, quite readable, and then forgets to put actual horror in. Horror that lurks and waits for players. Horror that wants to jump at players. Yes, there’s a short story and an adventure in there, but in my opinion a setting has to evoke and convince by itself. It is not enough to give it to a GM and say “Now you come up with what to do in it.” After reading it a GM should be inspired, have hooks and leads, and maybe already the spine of a campaign. Here we are left wondering what’s so horrible about the whole thing.

Another, minor gripe. Circum-Jove is actually not humanity’s farthest outpost. Instead, it fuels humanity’s exodus to other stars. A new element called “Foscolium” is introduced, considered to be vital for interstellar expansion. But it is not tied into the Mythos. That seemed like a big opportunity passed by, the chance to tie a new door opening for humanity with something more sinister. And as I read the supplement I wondered what cool new things humanity would discover elsewhere. This makes Circum-Jove less interesting. It’s not the final frontier. It’s just a frontier. Space travel within the solar system naturally becomes less interesting if somebody can just hop to Alpha Centauri or Barnard’s Star instead. If stuff becomes too hard there, why bother? New vistas!

The setting tries to tie in mining Jupiter moon Io for the new element as precondition for interstellar expansion. This means that the players are working stiffs doing their job so others can go to new worlds and build new lives. That seems awfully prosaic. And while there is a place for such science fiction one is left to wonder if this was a great choice for the supplement.

Jovian Nightmares, in other words, inspired more reading elsewhere. It is a solid work but it has its limitations.

I don’t want to go too deep into Shadows Over Sol since I still want to play it in the future, and saying too much here might spoil it to players. But general thoughts are valid to share.

By not introducing faster-than-light (FTL) travel SOL actually manages to have a foot in two worlds - the 23rd century where humanity expands into the Jupiter and Saturn systems. And the 27th century when human colonists arrive in Alpha Centauri - a 400 year one-way trip. By separating these settings both have validity. The settlers of Siren’s Call have a different world and different problems than the Martian and Jovian settlers of the core game. Both stories remain engaging. By expanding the game into the interstellar realm this way the original game still stays playable.

SOL does a great job of portraying a hard sci-fi setting with humanity split into cultural instead of national tribes. It does a great job of portraying a world of fading nation states, ascending corporations, a networked, simulated world, a “meatspace” world... It seems a tad to conservative on plotting the progress in AI and Augmented Reality, but if you want to write a sci-fi setting not completely colored and taken over by these issues, this is valid. And reality seems to play odd tricks on sci-fi anyway within precious few years - 2015 is already three years ago...

The setting of SOL doesn’t have horror written in big letters over it, anyway. It’s horror seems more personal, encountered by few. Which is of course appropriate. To be entirely fair one gets a much better feel of the horror inherent in the setting by looking at the released adventure books than the core book, which is a weak point it shares with Jovian Nightmares. Nevertheless the book seems to be willing to create its horror from the fact that humanity is always a step ahead with its ambitions of what it can safely do. While this isn’t per se more interesting than Lovecraftian horror, it allows for unexpected variation more than sticking with somewhat tired Cthulhu tropes. (I’m not trying to piss here on the whole Mythos, I’m just saying that some authors simply recycle stuff up to 80 to 90 years old while others definitely expand on the Mythos in interesting ways.)

You could remove the horror entirely from both settings and you would at the very least get a decent (Jovian Nightmares) or excellent (SOL) sci-fi game. In the end, SOL does several things much better than JN. The game constantly expands on setting seeds, introducing some (and originally with the same limitations mentioned above) but also expanding some in interesting ways. Where JN fails to even remotely give the GM an answer, SOL introduces either an answer or several eventually, giving GMs both concrete ideas and a choice. Not all seeds are gold. But some I simply wanted to know more about many of them. I’m in fact waiting for future supplements to tell me more about this world.

So, staying on-topic, eh? Kinda missed that boat myself. Both settings do a bit, too. Both are science fiction settings first and foremost. But SOL makes room for horror, and its adventures give you a guideline how to do horror here. It doesn’t simply throw you a setting and say “Hey, here are some Lovecraftian horrors, do something.” It stays on-topic much better than the other, if in the end not perfectly. It, on occasion, shamelessly recycles other horror as well. I won’t excuse that but hey, that’s what RPGs often do.

So, what is staying on topic in setting design? If you want to make a horror game, make space for horror. Expand the Unknown. Your world ideally has a dark underbelly which the characters learn about. Something which changes your conception of the world. Something which turns your ideas about the world on its head - you’re not the apex predator. You’re in danger. You’re not safe. They’re coming for you. Frankly, both settings fail this test. Lovecraft (the original) does them both one better. His time-traveling species invade your mind. His classic Ctulhu invades your dreams and tries to subvert the world. His monsters appear and you can do precious little about them. And many of his successors stuck with that - meaningless victories, invasion, loss of control. These themes have to come to the front and be part of the struggle players face.

That would be staying on-topic in the horror genre. Each genre or mix of genres has its own way of staying on topic. I still wait to do myself a satisfying version of Fantasy Horror. Given how horrific lots of monsters are, the horror part of the experience is frankly still explored too little.

And now to get back to reading Eldritch Skies... Its approach to Lovecraftian sci-fi seems exciting but I cannot say yet anything about the quality of its execution. Another time...

#call of cthulhu #shadows over sol #jovian nightmares #siren's call #pen & paper #roleplaying #rpg

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

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JUNO STEEL AND THE MONSTER’S REFLECTION (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

Pay no mind to our train’s backwards motion, dear Traveler. We are now passing through decades of the past.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

Our next stop? Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: ELECTRIC BEEPS, MACHINES HUMMING. DOOR CREAKS OPEN, WIND BLOWING.

JUNO: (COUGHING)

JACKET: Inside. Quickly.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKS SHUT.

JUNO: (COUGHING) Aren’t you supposed to be saving my life, like, theoretically? (COUGHS) I think I got more sandstorm in my lungs than air.

JACKET: A sandstorm is mostly air, Juno—

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, I know. This place have lights, or are we doin’ this blindfolded?

JACKET: I will activate the generator.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: Some service this doctor’s got. Makes you wander out into the middle of the desert, leaves all the lights off… where the hell is she, anyway?

(CALLING) Hello? Doc? Paging doctor Hanataba!

SOUND: BZZT, ELECTRIC HUM.

(WINCES) Jeez, that’s bright!

JACKET: You have many complaints, and I do not know how to satisfy them all.

JUNO: At least we have that in common. (COUGHING) Where the hell is she?

JACKET: She is not here.

JUNO: I can see that—

JACKET: And I have no evidence that she exists.

JUNO: You what?

JACKET: And I have no evidence that she exists.

JUNO: Yeah, I heard you the first time. I-I-I’m sorry, you waited until payday to tell me that the pay doesn’t exist?

JACKET: We will be performing the procedure ourselves.

These are your directions.

SOUND: PAPER RUSTLING.

JUNO: This dinky little piece of paper? That’s all we need?

“Step one: treat yourself to some Jovian tea from the cabinet above the sink, and have a seat in the waiting room.” What the hell?

JACKET: Would you like to make the tea, or should I?

JUNO: (GROWLS)

“Step two: ensure your partner has read their list start to finish. Communication is key to a swift recovery.”

JACKET: That is complete.

JUNO: “Note: it is recommended that you enjoy the tea with two sugars and long, calm breaths between each sip.” Are you kidding me, big guy? What is this, a recipe?

SOUND: WATER BOILING.

JACKET: Would you like to see my directions?

JUNO: If it’s not too much trouble, I’d kind of like to know what’s gonna happen to me before you rip my eye out!

JACKET: (STRAINING) Then… here!

SOUND: PAPER FLUTTERING, HEAVY THUD.

JUNO: Y’know, on second thought, I’ll stick with my directions.

JACKET: That would be best.

SOUND: DING. BOILING STOPS.

I have done this before. You have no cause for concern, other than the great danger your life is in.

JUNO: Good. Good, glad that’s everything, then.

JACKET: It isn’t. There are, in fact, many other things that could go wrong, but Buddy has told me that patients often find the truth unsettling.

JUNO: She seems pretty smart. Let’s listen to her, huh? Starting now.

SOUND: LIQUID POURING.

JACKET: Alright.

SOUND: CLUNK.

Your tea.

JUNO: I’d really rather just get this over with.

JACKET: First we will have some light conversation, and you will drink your tea.

JUNO: Listen, I really don’t want to wait—

JACKET: We will follow the directions.

JUNO: Fine. Let’s chat.

JACKET: Let’s.

JUNO: (AFTER A PAUSE) So how do you know this place, anyway? Out in the middle of nowhere, door hidden underneath a foot of sand, and… if you’ve read that manual you must’ve been here before.

JACKET: You are not the first person I’ve brought to Hanataba’s.

JUNO: So what, are you a doctor?

JACKET: No. I am a driver.

JUNO: Then how—

JACKET: Hanataba’s machine will perform the actual surgery. My role is less medical and more like driving a car into your head.

JUNO: But less dangerous than the car, right?

Uhhh… right?

Great. A doctor that doesn’t show, might not even exist, builds deathtraps for amateur surgery—what the hell is Hanataba, anyway?

JACKET: I had a friend with a device like yours – a leg, not an eye. No doctor would help him. Then he came to the Cerberus Province and was told to ask for Hanataba. And so I brought him here.

With tech growing at the rate it has, accepted medical cures for the problems humans cause can no longer keep up. Yet I have been told there are clinics like this across the galaxy for many man-made ailments. All of them, free of charge. All of them built, supposedly, by Hanataba.

JUNO: Yeah, okay, she doesn’t exist.

JACKET: On this we do not agree.

JUNO: What? But, you just said—

JACKET: I said that I have no evidence that she exists. But, I choose to believe it.

JUNO: Don’t be a moron. Nobody’s that generous.

JACKET: I believe that she is.

JUNO: And Hanataba… that’s a joke. You get that, right? A bad one, but still.

That’s an old Earth language. I had to learn it for a museum con a few years back. It means “bouquet of flowers.” As in, if you have some deadly illness that’s gonna kill you, ask for a bouquet of flowers. For my funeral. ‘Cause I’m gonna die.

JACKET: That is one interpretation.

JUNO: It’s the only interpretation! Those are the facts!

JACKET: I find that the way I think of the world often affects how it really is.

JUNO: Oh, whatever. So you think if you imagine this Hanataba-saint-doctor she’ll just poof into existence?

JACKET: No. But, if I believe there is a Hanataba in the galaxy, it affects how I act. And if my actions affect the galaxy, then that which affects my actions affects the galaxy. Juno, I recommend you believe that you will survive this. For yourself.

JUNO: That was pretty smart, actually.

JACKET: That was step five.

JUNO: What?

“Step five: take a deep breath and believe that you will survive this.”

…Huh.

JACKET: Please, drink your tea.

JUNO: Listen, these are good instructions and everything, but I’m just really not into tea—

JACKET: No. You must drink your tea because it is a powerful sedative, and without it this operation will be more painful than you can imagine.

JUNO: Yeah okay that’s a good reason.

SOUND: SIP.

(PAINED GASP)

SOUND: ALARM WAIL STARTS.

JACKET: Hm?

THEIA: Caution: this course of action is dangerous. Unnecessary. And cruel. Would you like me to vomit that tea for you?

JUNO: No, I— (PAINED GROAN)

THEIA: You are nothing without the Theia Spectrum.

JACKET: It is your eye.

JUNO: Shut up! Both of you!

THEIA: What good will you do. Blinded. And helpless?

JUNO: (PAINED GROAN)

JACKET: Juno, I am going to give you a medical capsule. You must take it immediately, no matter how it tastes. Understood?

JUNO: (PAINED) Uh-huh…

THEIA: You will never shoot again. It was the one thing you were good for. Little monster.

JACKET: Here.

JUNO: (COUGHING) God damn it, what is that? It burns, it tastes like… like…

THEIA: Poison. Poison. Poison. Trust no one. Doing good. That’s what you’re for—

JACKET: Take the pill!

THEIA: —activate and. Escape.

SOUND: GRUNTS.

Is here. User little monster—

JACKET: Swallow it, Juno! Quickly!

THEIA: —do not give away. (SLOWING DOWN) Give away. Give away. Our liffffffffe—

SOUND: ALARM STOPS.

JACKET: (AFTER A PAUSE) How do you feel?

JUNO: (COUGHING) Sugar.

JACKET: I do not know this emotion.

JUNO: The pill, it was… just sugar, wasn’t it?

JACKET: And a finely-tuned electromagnetic pulse. The Theia should be quiet, now… for a moment.

JUNO: It tasted like… like…

JACKET: Like I was trying to kill you.

JUNO: …Yeah, that.

JACKET: That follows. But it is not you we are trying to kill, Juno. Remember that.

JUNO: So, I… guess that means we’re gonna start the operation soon.

Do I get to know what you’re gonna do to me?

JACKET: Do you want to?

JUNO: …No. But I want to die not knowing even less.

JACKET: If you insist.

SOUND: PAGES FLIPPING.

Cybernetics like the Theia Spectrum operate like certain weeds: they grow into the roots of their hosts until the two are nearly inseparable, then feed off what they make.

JUNO: So… what, like, I’m the root?

JACKET: You are the tree. Your brain is the root. Metaphorically.

JUNO: Not a bad metaphor, for a giant, talking block of stone.

JACKET: I did not get it from a stone. I constructed it after giving this description several times.

JUNO: Sure. My mistake. You were saying about the Theia?

JACKET: The path such cybernetics take when growing into the brain is never the same twice. My friend reported hallucinations of smell: an orange grove, dried lilies, the fogged breath of the Plutonian Yak. Have you experienced such things?

JUNO: Nothing like that. But…

I’ve been… hearing things, I guess. And having weird dreams about…

JACKET: About?

JUNO: Things I’d rather not remember, okay?

JACKET: Memory. Hm.

Once you fall asleep I will bring you into the next room and connect you to Hanataba’s machine. There I will pilot biodegradable nanomachines into your brain to remove the Theia entirely. The nanomachines’ firing will cause some hallucinations. Then it will be finished.

JUNO: So, what? I just… sit back and enjoy the show while you do all the work?

JACKET: Would you like the answer I have evidence for, or the answer I think is true?

JUNO: I’ll take whatever you’ve got, honestly.

JACKET: There is no scientific reason that your actions should affect the process.

JUNO: But?

JACKET: (AFTER A PAUSE) I have brought several people to this place now, Juno. All of the ones who survived described their hallucinations as… a story. A task that they succeeded in.

JUNO: So, you think whatever that is, I have to succeed to survive.

JACKET: That is what I choose to believe.

JUNO: But… but, come on. How do you know everybody doesn’t have some dream about slaying a dragon, or whatever?

MUSIC: STARTS.

It’s not like the ones who died could tell you.

JACKET: My friend with the cybernetic leg survived his operation. And he described to me his hallucinations: a nightmare in which his childhood farm was ablaze, and he failed to save it. He spoke of it at length: the cries of the yaks as they burned, the sweet orange ashes in the air.

JUNO: But he survived. You just said—

JACKET: He survived the operation. Three days later, he died in his sleep.

He was a good man. I choose to believe he had some control over his fate because it reassures me. As does telling you his story.

JUNO: I… think I get what you mean.

(GAGS)

JACKET: Is something the matter?

JUNO: Just… dizzy. The tea must be kicking in.

JACKET: It is about that time, yes. Are you ready, Juno?

JUNO (NARRATOR): I didn’t know how to answer the big guy’s question. I didn’t think I had a choice. All I wanted was to run away, leave the past far behind me, but, I knew I couldn’t do it dead and I couldn’t do it with this anchor to Ramses O’Flaherty in me.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’ve been a private eye, a criminal conspirator, a cop, a punk, and who knows how many other things. And I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna be next, but… God, I wanna know. I have to.

JACKET: Juno?

JUNO: (ECHOING STRANGELY) Ready.

JACKET: (ECHOING STRANGELY) Good. I am going to bring you to the device now. And remember: you will survive this. You will.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: CLOCK TICKING. FABRIC RUSTLING.

JUNO: (GROANS) Big guy? Is it over, or…

Oh no.

SOUND: STATIC BUZZING.

(GASPS)

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

Get it together, Steel. Got to calm down.

MUSIC: FROM RADIO.

The facts, the facts. This… is my old bedroom, and that’s Ma’s old radio, and that song is what Ma was listening to when she…

But… this isn’t even the right bedroom. This isn’t Oldtown, this is from before that, it’s…

(YELPS)

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES.

(YELLS)

MUSIC: QUIETER, IN BACKGROUND.

JUNO: (PANTING)

SARAH STEEL: (MUFFLED) You took your sweet time getting here. What’s the matter? Had somethin’ better to do?

JUNO: No. No way, Steel.

Gotta get out of here, right back—

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

My legs! I… can’t stop walking! (GASPS)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

JUNO (YOUNG): Where is he?

JUNO: Where is he?

SARAH: It’s been months since you’ve seen old Ma, and I don’t even get a hello?

JUNO (YOUNG): Tell me where—

JUNO: Tell me… where…

SARAH: So you can do what, exactly? Think for a second. You never. Think.

Or if you can’t manage that, why don’t you just sit down and shut up. You talk too much. It’s my turn, little monster.

JUNO: No… no, no, no, no…

SARAH: You think you’ve got it all figured out now, don’t you? Fancy badge, fancy gun. Like a uniform’s gonna cage what’s in you. What’s in both of us. So today, I’m giving you a gift. A reality check. Complete the transformation: it’s alive! And it wishes it was dead. Just like you gave me.

JUNO & YOUNG JUNO: What the hell are you—

SARAH: Because having any control over your life, that’s always like paddling upstream, and for people like you, like me, those waters are choppy. But you try. You row ‘til your arms wanna fall off and nobody cares, but you try, and some days you even row harder than the current. Gain a few feet. Nothing you won’t lose tomorrow, but… you’re proud of it anyway.

And then? Something happens. Your idiot kid takes your oar from your tired, tired hands… and he smashes it. (BITTER LAUGH) And then? You’ve got nothing.

JUNO & YOUNG JUNO: Ben? Benten, are you in there?

SARAH: You did it in one day. One choice. When you let him in, when you let the hero rob us blind without taking a thing.

JUNO & YOUNG JUNO: Benten!

SARAH: Why are you shouting?

YOUNG JUNO: Give me the key.

JUNO: Don’t… don’t.

SARAH: Why? You know what’s in there. I smashed your oar like you smashed mine, so flail all you want, ‘cause it’s not gonna make a difference!

JUNO & YOUNG JUNO: Why?

SARAH: You know I didn’t even mean to do it? I thought he was you. He stole my pills, and when I told him off, he said, he didn’t know what I meant, gave me attitude, like you, not him, like—

JUNO & YOUNG JUNO: Why!

SARAH: —and for just a second I thought he was you, and I did the only thing I had left.

I found the pills at the bottom of my bag a few minutes ago, by the way. Checked that bag a thousand times before that. Proves my point.

YOUNG JUNO: Ben! Benten, open this door!

JUNO: Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop—

SARAH: I couldn’t even do this right. No control left. Nothing.

I’ve been thinking about it though, and I think this is better. Much better.

Go see him, then. And see how fast the current takes you.

SOUND: KEYS CLINKING.

JUNO (YOUNG): (PANTING, CRYING)

JUNO: No… stop… stop…

JUNO (YOUNG): Ben!

JUNO: Stop!

VOICE 1: Okay.

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES. MUSIC CUTS OUT.

JUNO: (PANTING)

SOUND: CLOCK TICKING. RADIO JINGLE.

VOICE 1: I love this tune, don’t you? Really got a beat you can dance to.

VOICE 2 (FROM RADIO): At the sound of the tone, the time will be—

JUNO: Ben?

VOICE 2 [RADIO VOICE]: —eleven thirty PM.

VOICE 1 [BEN]: It’s been a while, Juno. You miss me?

SOUND: TONE. RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: Benzaiten?!

SOUND: RUSTLING.

BEN: Hey there, easy on the spine, alright? Backups aren’t cheap.

JUNO: Benten, I never thought I’d see you again, or hear you, or– it’s really you, isn’t it?

BEN: Always suspicious. Fine. Test me.

JUNO: Where was the best spot to eat lunch at Oldtown Elementary?

BEN: Inside the fake tree behind the basketball court, obviously. Come on, that’s the best you’ve got?

JUNO: I was just getting started. What about—

BEN: Oldtown Junior High? The roof, until your friend got us busted up there. Oldtown High? At least a mile away from the building, just in case.

JUNO: That’s right.

BEN: Ask me a hard one, come on. Deep cuts only.

JUNO: What was the best episode of The New Adventures of Andromeda?

BEN: ‘By Captain Cancer’s Claws.’ That’s supposed to be hard?

JUNO: Ha! No! No it wasn’t, it was ‘The Cold-Eyed Cops of the Frozen City’ and you know it, but you always said it was ‘Cancer’s Claws,’ always, always…

SOUND: RUSTLING.

BEN: Oof! Well, there goes the reserve spine. You turned into a real toucher since I’ve been gone, huh?

JUNO: I’ve missed you, Benten, it’s been so, so hard.

BEN: I know, Juno. Trust me. I know better than anybody.

So, are you just gonna spend this whole reunion irrigating my shoulder, or…?

JUNO: I’m not crying!

I just… still had a lot of questions. Then you checked out. It was frustrating, is all.

BEN: Questions? Like what?

JUNO: Things you never answered before, like—

SOUND: RADIO TURNS ON, MUSIC.

BEN: I’ll get that.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

Keep going.

JUNO: Her.

BEN: Mom?

JUNO: Yeah. Like… Sarah.

I’ve always wanted to know, Ben… why did you stay with her? You could’ve left when I did, and then you wouldn’t’ve…

BEN: You want to know why, Juno? Really why?

JUNO: I do. I always did.

BEN: Fine. I’ll tell you.

The truth, Juno? The reason that I stayed with Mom… is… (WHISPERING) blackmail.

JUNO: What.

BEN: It’s true. She had pictures of me from seventh grade – you remember? The weird contacts? The hair? If those got out into the world, hell, I’d never get another date again.

JUNO: No, come on. Enough jokes. Why—

BEN: Hidden treasure. Old lady’s got it under the floorboards, I’m sure of it.

JUNO: Just tell me—

BEN: Would you believe me if I said I just really liked waking up to something breaking every morning?

JUNO: Knock it off! You always do this!

BEN: (LAUGHING) Oh, come on, Juno. Lighten up, willya?

JUNO: Just answer me. Now. Please. I have to know.

BEN: Hey. So… I guess we’re not joking anymore, huh?

Listen, Super-Steel, I don’t want to make you upset, but… I couldn’t answer that if I wanted to. I don’t even know what the answer is.

JUNO: No. You expect me to buy that you threw your life out without even knowing why? No.

BEN: It’s the truth, alright? If you don’t know why I did it, then… that means I don’t know, either.

JUNO: What the hell is that supposed t—

Oh.

BEN: Oh.

JUNO: You aren’t Benten. You’re just… a hallucination, or something.

BEN: Hey, come on. I’m a bigger deal than that. I come with this room, here, and… everything in it.

JUNO: Our old bedroom? And that radio, that brought me to—

SOUND: RADIO TURNS ON. STORM NOISES, DRAMATIC MUSIC.

VOICE 3 (FROM RADIO): Andromeda!! The rigging’s snapped in the wizard’s storm!

ANDROMEDA (FROM RADIO): Steer us to safety, Captain, and I’ll use my chainmail to keep us afloat! Chain whip!

SOUND: WHIP CRACKS. RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: That’s ‘By Captain Cancer’s Claws.’ I haven’t thought about that in years.

Memories. This room is for memories.

BEN: Ehhh… kinda.

Do you know how memory works, Juno?

JUNO: I thought so, but haunted radio in your childhood bedroom didn’t exactly figure in.

BEN: People think memory’s like a bucket with a hole in it: just a big container that we pour information into and some trickles out – but, that’s not right. Memory’s associative. We remember things in relation to other things. It’s like… our minds are always sorting memories, right? Like a filing cabinet, kinda. This one’s tagged under ‘mom’, and ‘happy’. This one’s tagged under ‘times I punched someone who deserved it’, and ‘second grade’, and ‘teachers whose noses I’ve broken’.

JUNO: Mr. Lowell. Yeah, well, he had it comin’.

BEN: The main difference between memory and a filing cabinet is that memories get stronger the more you think about them, and if you don’t, they start to fade. They lose tags, one by one, until you’ve got no way to find them. Doesn’t mean they’re gone. Just means that… you can’t access them anymore. Like you’ve lost not just a file, but the whole cabinet.

JUNO: Or like you’re trying to tune into a station with barely any signal.

SOUND: RADIO TURNS ON.

VOICE 4 (FROM RADIO): Juno! Gimme your nose and we’ll see what I do with it, you nasty little—!

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

BEN: Wow, he really did deserve that, didn’t he?

JUNO: Told ya.

Alright, so. Brown jacket says people who go under for this operation start to… see things. Said there’d be some kind of job I’d have to do.

BEN: He also said that there was no scientific evidence for that, but hey, who’s counting?

JUNO: How did you—

Right. You’re me.

BEN: Got it in one. Keep going. Always wanted to watch you work a case.

JUNO: Wait a minute. Wait a minute, I think I get this! You, and this room, and that memory with Mom, and… I’m here to solve your murder.

BEN: Uhh… what about it?

JUNO: What about it? Wht the hell are you talking about? There’s obviously—

Mom’s pills! They went missing and that’s why she killed you, right? Where’d they go?

BEN: She said—

JUNO: And! Who planted them back in her bag, huh?

Don’t look at me like that.

BEN: Like what?

JUNO: Whatever. Why the hell are you asking me all this, anyway? You run this whole… whatever it is! You tell me why I’m here!

BEN: I said it already: I don’t know anything you don’t.

JUNO: Then what the hell are you doing here? I don’t need you, alright? So just buzz off. I don’t like this. I don’t like people or ghosts or whatever pretending to be things they aren’t, so if this is all you’ve got for me, you can go.

BEN: Hey, I’m… sorry, man. I… I should’ve seen this coming, I guess… right now probably wasn’t the time for me to—

JUNO: Stop.

BEN: Stop what?

JUNO: Looking like him, sounding like him, knowing what he knew – just stop. Please.

BEN: That makes… a lot of sense.

SOUND: WIND BLOWS.

SARAH: Do I make this easier on you, little monster?

JUNO: What… what– what are you…

SARAH: What’s the matter, Juno? Did you think you’d get away with never seeing me again? Ha. Figures. You’re tough as tissues, aren’t you?

JUNO: Mom…? Ben, where’s Ben?

SARAH: You’re scared. I can smell it on you, little monster.

JUNO: You can’t do anything to me. You’re dead. This is all in my head, and—

SARAH: And so am I.

So am I, Juno. I’m in your head, and you’ll never get me out.

JUNO: Stop.

SARAH: I’m just waiting, and I’m patient, little monster. You won’t even notice it happening at first, but I’ll get you in the end. First, you’ll just start snapping at people, and you’ll always have excuses. Head hurts. Tired.

JUNO: Stop!

SARAH: And you’ll hate yourself for snapping, but it’s just going to get harder, and harder, and you’re going to get more and more tired, and one day you’ll just give up, just like I—

JUNO: Ben!

SOUND: WIND BLOWS.

BEN: (AFTER A PAUSE) It… gets pretty bad in here, doesn’t it?

JUNO: Just… don’t do that again, okay?

BEN: I didn’t. You’re the one who’s in control, so—

JUNO: I know. I know.

Please. I just need you… here. Okay? I always felt like… like part of my mind was just gone, whenever we weren’t together.

BEN: I know that feeling.

Okay, Super-Steel. Mr. Cop Academy himself. You can do this: what’s another cold case, eh?

JUNO: Ice cold. Been in the freezer thirty years.

BEN: Come on, I can’t do this on my own. While you were acing Detective 101 I was just teaching people the box step. So, expert, tell me how this goes. You have what you’re pretty sure is a case. All the evidence you’re gonna get is here. So? Where do we start?

JUNO: Step one. Right. We… figure out what doesn’t make sense. There’s always somethin’, in every case. Even if it’s small… that’s the thread you have to pull on to get the big stuff.

BEN: And what doesn’t make sense here?

JUNO: The pills.

BEN: Really? Those make the least sense to you, really?

JUNO: Ehhh… the motive.

SOUND: RADIO TURNS ON.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SARAH (FROM RADIO): You did it in one day. One choice. When you let him in, when you let the hero rob us blind without taking a thing.

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO: That. What the hell does that even mean?

BEN: You’re saying you don’t remember the day she’s talking about?

JUNO: No, I remember it, but… it’s stupid.

BEN: (CHUCKLES) I bet a lot of leads are.

JUNO: That’s true.

(SIGHS) Short version: we were four years old and she decided it was a good idea to leave us home alone for the day. Some burglar broke in, I didn’t stop them, they didn’t even take anything, but Mom flipped out over it anyway. She blew a gasket at work, lost her job, and blamed me for it forever, the end. Okay? I’m telling you, she was just—

BEN: And that’s all you remember?

JUNO: Who cares what I remember? I was a kid! It doesn’t matter!

SOUND: RADIO TURNS ON.

VOICE 5 (FROM RADIO): Here comes Turbo! The Man of the Future!

BEN: Doesn’t matter, huh?

VOICE 5 [TURBO] (FROM RADIO): Have you helped anyone today?

JUNO: (GROWLS)

TURBO (FROM RADIO): Just remember, Juno: it’s a fact!

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

BEN: What was the first step to detecting, again?

JUNO: Shut up.

BEN: Find something that doesn’t make sense, right? Because that right there definitely—

JUNO: Just drop it, alright? I forgot how smug you were.

BEN: (LAUGHS)

So. You ready to solve a mystery? And don’t lie. Remember, I’m basically just you, so I know—

JUNO: Everything I’m thinking, sure. So why do I have to say it?

BEN: Because I’m still just me and I think it’s fun to watch you admit when you’re wrong.

JUNO: (GROWLS, THROUGH GRITTED TEETH) I’m ready to solve a mystery.

MUSIC: ENDS.

BEN: Ha ha, that’s more like it! Let’s go!

SOUND: SPED-UP GLITCHY NOISES.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from co-creators Kevin Vibert and Sophie Kaner:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: …where are we gonna go with this, like, where are we gonna find a kid who can like really really act.

KEVIN: Right.

SOPHIE: And if they’re not going to, then like what does that leave us with? And then we… considered having him be the same age as Juno because theyre twins, and just like, okay, even though he’s dead, Juno imagines him as if he were… as if he had grown up with him, but then we were like… are we gonna have Joshua—

KEVIN: Right.

SOPHIE: —voice Ben.

KEVIN: Right.

SOPHIE: And…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Camille Blanton, Canteloupe, Fiona Parker, Ota Arcana, Regan, Ko, KC, Kim Zeugin, Atha Lang, Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, and Jaimie Gunter for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

Did you know that The Penumbra has merchandise for sale? It’s true! The Penumbra has partnered with DFTBA to bring you the posters, shirts, and pins your heart desires. Just go to dftba.com and search for The Penumbra Podcast.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Alexander Stravinski as the Man in the Brown Jacket, Kiki Samko as Sarah Steel, Marc Pierre as Benzaiten Steel, and Bob Mussett as the ensemble.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

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ariadnelives · 5 years

Text

Chapter 7 -- The Nightmare

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3]

“I hate this lady so much,” Pilar practically snarled as she adjusted the ship's course. “Was she ever young, do you think?”

“Nah,” Ariadne said from the passenger seat, trying in vain to get a spoon to stick to her nose, “I feel like she's probably been an unpleasant old crone forever.”

“She was probably already on Calisto when they got there and they just built the bio-dome around her stupid rocking chair.”

The Jovian moon Calisto was now within visual range, and the rest of the viewport was filled with yellow and orange swirls. No matter how many operations they ran through the colonial moons, they never quite got used to the scale of a gas giant. Jupiter and Saturn took their breath away every time they looked at them. Something primal and hard-coded into their DNA told them that this was not something they were meant to see, and yet, here they were, a stone's throw from Jupiter.

The ship pulled closer to Calisto and Ariadne abandoned her spoon effort to pull out fake IDs to get into the bio-dome.

They got into the dome without incident, found a small garage to park in, and gave an almost comically large tip to the downtrodden-looking lot attendant.

La Pesadilla's high-rise apartment was at the top of a building whose elevator was constantly broken. While a woman of her means would be able to have it fixed, she liked that it was broken because it meant anyone who wanted to visit her would have to take the stairs.

Ariadne quickly repaired the electromagnets, actually making the elevator much faster than it was before it had broken, and wrote “HA” on the “Out of Order” sign. They were at her door in seconds.

La Pesadilla answered and, like Jupiter, her appearance never ceased to shock Ariadne and Pilar. At a glance, one might guess she was 90 years old. Her skin was eerily reminiscent to a well-worn catcher's mitt both in texture and coloration. Her expression was about as friendly as a large-mouth grouper, and under her tattered bathrobe was an inexplicable t-shirt depicting what appeared to be a zebra wearing sunglasses and smoking a cigar. Whether she wore pants under the bathrobe was up for speculation.

She walked with a cane, even though she did not need one, simply because she liked to jab it at people when speaking.

“You didn't fix my elevator, did you?” she more snarled than said.

“Nope,” Ariadne lied.

“Good, I like it broken,” La Pesadilla grumbled, “makes it harder for people to drop by and ask me favors.”

There was a moment of silence in the hall as Pilar and Ariadne struggled to find the words to respond to this statement.

“Well, come in if you're coming in,” she said, gesturing into the apartment with her cane, “I pay to air condition the inside of the apartment, not the hallway. Every second this door is open is a waste of my money.”

Ariadne and Spacebreather, still at a loss for response, stepped into La Pesadilla's apartment.

The place was decorated like a family-style restaurant, which is to say, the walls were covered with hundreds of curios, oddities, and other units of nonsense which begged the question, “what exactly is the difference between vintage collectibles and old garbage?”

Two other women sat on an overstuffed couch in the corner, their focus divided between small information terminals affixed to the armrests and a holographic table at the center of the room playing an old rerun of Val Deimos, P.I. at an almost obscenely loud volume.

“Balotelli's cheating on his wife again,” said the one on the left, a relaxed-looking black woman of approximately 70 with wraparound sunglasses (worn indoors for reasons that were known only to her) and a blue-and-purple sweater knitted to look like a particularly starry galaxy that Ariadne thought might be subtly swirling and twinkling. “How much do you think he'll pay us to keep it under wraps this time?”

“No dice,” replied the one on the right, a strong-jawed white woman of perhaps 65, wearing a tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots with an iron-gray buzz cut. With one hand, she rapidly tapped on her terminal. With the other, she repeatedly lifted a rather heavy hand weight. She did not seem to break eye contact at any point with the flickering rerun streaming on the surface of the coffee table. “His wife knows. Hired a private dick to tail them last week. Tried to have 'em whacked but lost her nerve at the last second.”

“Do we have the records?” Galaxy-sweater asked.

“I have the contract here,” Tank-top replied.

“We double down. He's up for reelection in May, and I'm sure neither of them wants the scandal breaking in April. Probably pay a pretty penny to keep it under wraps.”

“Sex, betrayal, and intrigue?” Tank-top asked. “This sounds like a pretty valuable story. It'd be a shame if some reporter outbid them for it.”

“Oh my god,” Ariadne cut in, “do you always talk in clichéd banter or is this for our benefit?”

Tank-top stopped her arm curls for half a second and then continued. Galaxy-sweater raised an eyebrow at her.

“Who's this lunchbox?” Galaxy-sweater asked in a derisive way that seemed to be second nature to mean old ladies and made even the most baffling of insults seem to make sense.

“This is that brat I was telling you about,” La Pesadilla growled.

Tank-top did not look away from her television program. “The one who always fixes the elevator?”

“I think so,” La Pesadilla grumbled. She wandered into the kitchen but continued speaking, incrementally increasing the volume of her voice so she could still be heard. “Her name starts with an A, and her wife here is named after … I don't know, some kind of rice dish.”

Pilar pondered this for a moment and resolved to ask Cookie about it later on.

“Shoot, hope that elevator is fixed.” Galaxy-sweater smiled, “I got bad knees and shit to do.”

La Pesadilla returned with two brightly colored plastic cups, filled with a cloudy yellow substance. She practically shoved these into the hands of her guests with a grunt.

“What do… what is…” Ariadne was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She was barely reaching adulthood herself and she still had very little experience in the department of respecting her elders. She suspected that perhaps sixty percent of the people in the room were not acting as they should, but she was unsure of where she fell in that ratio.

“It's lemonade.” La Pesadilla removed a smallish disc-shaped tin from her bathrobe pocket, pulled out a handful of leaves, jammed them into her cheek, and began chewing them. “You're kids, you drink lemonade. You're in my house, I offer you a drink. The elevator's out of order, you take the fucking stairs instead of trying to fix it. There's rules to this sort of thing.”

“I said I didn't fix your elevator,” Ariadne stammered.

“You always say that.” La Pesadilla rolled her eyes. “What do you want? You're talking through our program.” She gestured at the hologram. The show was popular enough that Pilar had seen this particular episode several times with her parents, and since she had not had parents in approximately a decade, it was a safe bet it was not their first viewing.

“You could always pause it while we conduct our business,” Pilar offered in a tone she hoped would come across as helpful. She took a polite sip of her lemonade, which had no ice and seemed to be little more than powdered mix stirred into room-temperature tap water.

“You could've shown up on the hour, like a normal person, so you don't interrupt the last five minutes of my show.” La Pesadilla slumped into an old, heavily-patched recliner, searched for a small metal jar, and spat the leaves out into it. “So, spit it out.”

Galaxy-sweater let out a small “heh” at her phrasing.

“Why do you come here and bother me again?”

Ariadne finally seemed to find her voice. “We're looking for information.”

“Well, you've come to the right place,” Tank-top grunted, somehow still lifting her weight, “we've got all of it.”

“The Red God cult that's formed on Mars in the last year or so. We need to know everything we can about them.”

“What do we get?” La Pesadilla asked. “I mean, you're asking me to do the opposite of my job here. People pay me to keep their secrets. If I tell you about these guys, I ain't got no leverage on 'em, can't charge 'em for my services, feel? If I'm gonna spill the beans, I gotta know it's worth more than keeping my mouth shut.”

“Cut the crap,” Pilar said simply, “money is no object to us, and I think you'll be pleased with the amount we've deposited in your account as an act of good faith.”

La Pesadilla tapped at her display and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I'll be damned.”

“You'll get the other half when we have our information,” Pilar said.

La Pesadilla looked at Galaxy-sweater and nodded.

“Think we got something on them.” Galaxy-sweater said, tapping away on her own display. “Yeah, their leader's this fancy scientist turned whacked-out bible nut, calls himself the Zealot.”

“Real original nickname,” Tank-top added.

“Got into some real shady shit.” Galaxy-sweater furrowed her brow at the display. “We got our hands on a few black market ledgers about 20 years back, and the shit he was buying? Banned on just about every rock in the system.”

“Why would someone selling illegal goods on the black market keep a ledger of their customers?” Ariadne wondered out loud. Galaxy-sweater looked at her flatly and gestured vaguely at the blackmail operation they were currently sitting in the middle of. Ariadne took a sip of her lemonade. “I see.”

“You said 20 years ago?” Pilar looked confused. “These guys have only been operating for the past year, year and a half.”

“Nah,” La Pesadilla grunted, “they been around longer'n you kids have been alive. The Red God stuff is new. They used to walk around the moons, door to door, saying that the Earth was a New Sodom that was to be destroyed due to its sin and heresy and that the only way to be sure Jesus would spare the rest of the system was to join their church.”

“Or make a donation,” Tank-top said.

“Course, the day they predicted came and went.” Galaxy-sweater chuckled. “The Earth was still there. Then that happened, oh, five or six more times before everyone stopped giving them the time of day.”

“Buncha idjits,” La Pesadilla mumbled, “Jesus don't need our money, and he's got a whole universe to run. He doesn't go around blowing up planets because some people didn't pray right. All he cares about is if you're a good person. He don't even care if you believe in him if you ask me, just live your life best you can and he won't bother you.”

“Like bees?” Galaxy-sweater asked, smirking.

“Exactly, like bees. You don't bother him, he don't bother you.”

Ariadne thought this moralizing was rich coming from a professional blackmailer, and she couldn't help but think she'd been given the same advice about what to do when you encounter a swarm of bees, but she bit her tongue to avoid starting another tangent.

La Pesadilla took a sip from a nearby mug that seemed to be full of red wine. “Anyway, nobody bought his end-is-nigh crock and, last I heard, he was a pretty sick fucker. He bought a bunch of illegal shit and went underground. Nobody heard from them for a while, and they came back with a new god and a shiny new preacher. Little white girl, 'bout your age.”

Ariadne scowled. “Not even close.”

La Pesadilla matched her scowl. “Kid, if we're talking years, I'm easily five of you. You both got all your original teeth? You're the same age, far as I'm concerned.”

“What exactly did he buy?” Pilar attempted to break the tension. She, at times, was confused by Ariadne's talent for locking horns with grumpy older women, but suspected this was a deeper issue than they had time to unpack at the moment.

Galaxy-sweater looked at her screen. “We got three Cortex brand neural implants. Those things were all the rage back in the 90s, companies used to get them for all the employees so memos would go right to their brain.”

Tank-top laughed slightly. “Yeah, but they got banned pretty quick.”

La Pesadilla took another sip of mug-wine. “Security risk… a lot of bosses got caught snooping in their employee's thoughts. There was one big scandal where a manager tried to increase productivity by planting thoughts in his employees heads while they slept. An entire office working 16-hour shifts and sleeping at their desks because their brain was telling them 'if I stop working I'll die, if I ask for overtime I'll die, if I make a mistake I'll die.'”

“Yikes,” Ariadne concluded. “Go on, what else?”

“Blueprints for immersion pod,” Galaxy-sweater explained, “That's a VR capsule that uses the brain's visualization center as a processor to create realistic simulations of pre-programmed scenarios. Originally designed for video gaming, scrapped because every focus tester who attempted to play a children's shoot-em-up game had to be treated for very real PTSD, and made illegal after the prototypes were found being used as training simulators for a radical Earth-based supremacist paramilitary corps.”

“I'm sensing a theme here,” Pilar chimed in.

“Here's where it gets really interesting,” Galaxy-sweater said, pointing at the screen, “he bought up a bunch of medical equipment. Machines for growing and implanting new organs.”

“Shouldn't need that,” Tank-top piped up, still watching her show but seeming to slow down on the weights. “I know he was sick, but if he needed a transplant he could get one at any hospital and be home for supper.”

“Could've been for implanting the Cortex device,” Ariadne suggested.

“Could be,” La Pesadilla said. “We ain't here to speculate, we just give you the information.”

“Aaaaand,” Galaxy-sweater reached the end of her list, “one Quantum Shift Generator. Weird little devices, designed for the Shop-n-Go corporation. They had this idea for expanding to the colonial moons that they could just build a single store interior which all of their storefronts would lead into, that way they could have a dozen stores in a bio-dome but only pay one set of overworked employees.”

“Wonder why that got banned.” Ariadne smirked.

“If you're thinkin' it's some worker's rights whatever, you're wrong,” La Pesadilla grumbled, pouring herself another mug of wine from a bottle that had been conveniently located next to the mug on the table. “It's because all the exterior doors led to the same interior, but they ain't give you the same courtesy on the way out.”

“What she's trying to say,” Tank-top said, placing her weight on the ground and reaching for a nearby bottle of water, “is that people would attempt to leave the store only to find themselves coming out of the wrong one. You could end up 15 miles across town in the 40 seconds it took you to buy an iced tea and a candy bar.”

“Would've made a great public transit system if there was some way to predict which storefront you'd come out of,” Galaxy-sweater offered.

“That's all we've got,” La Pesadilla said. “Where's the rest of my money?”

“Now, hang on,” Galaxy-sweater said, easing herself off the couch, “these girls paid good money and we have got one more thing. Been meaning to get rid of it anyway.”

She ambled over to a bookshelf, grabbed a small, shabby-looking paperback, ripped the back cover clean off, and handed it to Ariadne. “They dropped this in our mailslot back when they were still pretending to be Christian. Got a picture of the Zealot on the back. Might help.”

La Pesadilla jabbed her cane towards the closed door. “Now, get out of my house and put that money in my account.”

Ariadne and Pilar put down their half-finished lemonades, more than glad to not have to finish drinking them, and walked towards the door. As they exited, they heard La Pesadilla mumble, “and so help me if that elevator is working.” The door closed behind them and they immediately heard it lock.

In the elevator ride down to the first floor, Ariadne looked at the laminated cover she'd been handed. The photograph was of a white man, perhaps in his 40s, with squinting, intense eyes, a full but neatly trimmed gray beard, a straight, pointed nose, and a wide-brimmed black hat.

She felt uneasy and turned the book over. Something about him, something she couldn't quite place but knew very few others would see, hit upsettingly close to home. She didn't look at it again for the rest of the trip back.

#core story

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sunkenshipsanddreams · 5 years

Text

From One Star To Another

“Left foot back, right foot closer…”

Okara trained by her lonesome under the light of Phobos and Deimos, going over every form she had knowledge of to be as precise as possible. She couldn’t afford to so much as slip up-not even the slightest bit- if she wanted to be fully enlisted into the Saturnian Military Academy on Dione. Holding her polearm close to her body in a vertical fashion, the thirteen year old spun it slowly at first, right foot stepping forward as her body swiveled on the balls of her feet like a graceful dancer.

Then a foreign scent invaded her nostrils, and as Okara made her second turn, she adjusted her spear to be in position for a throw when she spotted a certain hammer-wielding Jovian teenager silently watching her with rapt attention.

“Oh, Lady Jupiter,” Okara amended, easing up a bit as she stood ramrod straight. “I didn't see you there.”

Europa blinked owlishly at the rigid demeanor that the younger girl displayed, seeing that, as always, Okara was fully guarded- physically and emotionally. ‘What's with the sudden formality?’

As if reading her mind, Okara sighed, and went to leave, grabbing her thin jacket and sack so she could leave and spare herself the embarrassment of explaining herself. “I will retire for the night shortly. I have matters to attend to come the cusp of dawn.”

Europa gave her a look of confusion. “Who uses a phrase like 'cusp of dawn'?”

“I do.” Okara replied, not missing a beat.

“I actually came over to ask if you wanted to have a spar,” Europa called out from behind her, making the Morionra teen’s eyes widen considerably and her feet stop in their tracks.

Was she hearing correctly? Did the Princess of Jupiter, Europa Olym, First of Her Name just ask her to spar with her?

Her, Okara Hadaal, last chieftain of the Tanli Morionra?

“Come again?” Okara asked, turning over to the brunette with wide lavender eyes. Her jacket had only been on halfway, resembling a cape that hid her entirely black clothing well, the night sky giving an added effect.

Europa gave the surprised Saiyan a challenging look, placing her hammer and outer robe on the wall of the courtyard. “I asked for a spar,” Europa repeated, and this time her usually friendly grin turned into something worthy of nightmares. “Or is the Chiefess a chicken?”

Okara felt her pride take a massive blow at that, scowling and dropping her belongings back where she had picked them up from before stabbing her spear into the ground. “You’re on, Europa.”

Europa laughed heartily, taking the opposite side of their makeshift ring and assuming a stance. “I see you’ve finally decided to call me by name.”

“You asked for a spar, no? Titles have no place in combat- only skill.” Okara reasoned, dropping into a stance of her own.

Then came the loud crack of the bell to signal the hour- and the two were suddenly at each other’s throats like starving dogs over the last piece of meat.

Okara jumped over Europa’s kick, twisting in midair to knee the taller female in the side of the jaw and succeeding before a solid fist struck her dead center in the solar plexus- hard enough to send her flying away and coughing up blood.

Europa rubbed the side of her face to lessen the pain, spitting out a mouthful of blood and a tooth with it. “I’ve gotta admit, you’ve got some strong knees.”

Okara stood back up on shaky legs, looking ready to buckle over as she responded with a slightly bloody smirk. “Looks like your fists are twice my speed, because I didn’t see that coming at all,”

“I can see that- looks like I cracked a rib.” Europa said, concerned.

Okara merely shrugged it off. “As I remember it, we were sparring, weren’t we? What's a little cracked bone?”

Europa’s predatory look reappeared in the span of a second, reignited by the promise of a challenge. “Back to it, then.”

They jumped back at each other- blocking, parrying and attacking with such fierceness, they woke those residing in the temple every time Okara crashed into the ground.

They finally stopped when one of the monks started shouting about invading enemies, grabbing their things and leaving the premises in exchange for the safety of the kitchens.

Okara panted before she winced, clutching tightly at her side. “I’ll admit- you destroyed me out there,"

Europa wiped her nose free of blood from where Okara had driven a fist into it an hour prior. “And I’ll admit that you aren’t a slouch in combat. Who trained you?” The Jovian inquired, a brow raised as she gave the younger and smaller girl a grin.

Okara was silent for a few minutes before she answered at last, amethyst eyes forlorn. “My mother and father. When I was four up until I was a nine year old.”

Europa didn’t miss the mournful look in her eye, and it suddenly clicked why she rarely spoke of her family or where she originally came from.

She could not honestly relate, having never lost a family member, but she still missed them dearly. Her older brother would take the throne soon enough, once he was of age, but for now the crown prince was on Callisto for his military training.

Then, the sound of a rumbling stomach made itself known, causing Okara’s face to grow red from embarrassment as the look on her face changed from saddened to incredibly surprised.

Europa chuckled, feeling a bit peckish, herself. “Sounds like someone’s hungry,” she intoned, adjusting her shoulder cape at the clasp. The Jovian royal offered a hand to the Saiyan chiefess, which Okara took, and motioned her over to one of the many tables that many a cadet could be found sitting at come mealtimes.

Okara’s tail lazily swayed back and forth as she rested her head on her forearms, the pain having mostly ebbed away by now and the broken bones slowly but surely resetting themselves.

Fifteen minutes later, Europa walked out of the kitchen looking incredibly proud of herself, carrying a large bowl the size of a cauldron over along with a pair of large spoons to scoop up its contents.

Briefly, Okara considered barfing just at the sight of so much food in a bowl that could only match her grandfather’s wide girth in size.

“L-Lady Europa, I don’t think I can-” Okara started to stammer, only for said valkyrie to cut her off as soon as she was halfway done with her sentence.

“C’mon, uh…” Europa searched her brain for a name the possible militant could have given her, despite having been introduced to her just a few months prior. “I’m sorry, I think I forgot your name.”

“Okara. Okara Hadaal of Sadala.” Okara replied, honestly not all that surprised about it.

“C’mon, Okara! You train for days on end- how can you not eat this much? And besides, don’t Saiyans eat amounts this large?” Europa went right back on track with her question, the fifteen year old not noticing the younger girl’s face turn a shade of blue that one could only expect from being on a glacier for hours on end.

‘While that’s true, my stomach can’t hold this much food!’ Okara mentally screamed, knowing that she would have to eat some, and hesitantly, the Morionra scooped up some of the stew in the obscenely large dish. Placing the spoonful into her mouth, she tasted a myriad of flavors- all good ones, some reminiscent of Sadala’s best cuisine.

“This is good.” Okara said simply, taking another bite until she was sure she had eaten enough when Europa had decided to get something to drink from the well just outside of the mess hall.

A low keening sound manifested under the table, bringing Okara’s eyes down to the canine being next to her foot. Looking over to the rather far archway that led out of the room, Okara slipped the bowl under the table to feed the likely hungry creature.

“As far as I'm concerned, the rest of this is yours, now.” Okara mumbled in Saiyago, feeling slightly bloated when Europa walked back into the room with a pair of goblets filled with water.

Emerald eyes blinked upon reaching the table, not seeing the bowl where she'd left it. “Where's the stew?”

“I already ate it all…?” Okara nervously supplied, a shaky, fanged grin on her face.

Honestly, she hoped and prayed to the gods that Europa didn’t notice the dog eating under the table.

Europa looked at her incredulously before shrugging her shoulders, deciding that it was a good thing that the thirteen year old had actually eaten something. Placing the metal cups down on either side of her elbows, Okara gratefully accepted the drink and downed half of it in one gulp.

“Thank you,” Okara breathed out after swallowing the healing liquid, a content smile on her face. “I think this is the first time all night that I’ve had a drink of water.”

Europa gave the young Saiyan a wry grin, noting how the pale girl’s dark-furred tail languidly moved back and forth much like a pleased feline. Europa leaned over slightly as the moons began to fall into view through one of the many stone windows. “Really? Your first drink of water? What did you drink before this, hmm?”

Okara suddenly realized where that statement had gone wrong and hastily attempted to correct herself. “I haven't really had a drink since sundown, that's all,” Okara replied, holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

Europa chuckled, erintite eyes alight with equal parts mischief and worry. “No wonder you were so slow- you were dehydrated that entire sparring match!”

Okara ran a hand through her short bob, lavender eyes cast down to her bloodied black top. “I guess I always forget to take breaks, huh?”

Europa nodded firmly. “I get that you like to be prepared for any form of warfare, but also keep your health in mind. Just remember to keep track of when exactly to stop,” the Jovian teenager chuckled at that last part, knowing that Okara likely would forget that piece of advice.

Okara's head tilted like a confused pup. “If you don't mind my asking, what is it that you find so funny?”

“The fact that you'll forget to so much as sleep when you get back to training. And what do you know,” Europa started, looking through at the brightening sky. “It's already dawn.”

“WHAT?!” Okara shrieked, loud enough to be an exploding bomb.

And just like lightning had struck her rear, Okara and her belongings had all but vanished with the sudden gust of wind that had followed the Saiyan on her way out.

The following six months later, Okara was back on Mars for further training, already being halfway through the Military Academy's curricular process in what would have taken most others two-three Terran years.

From what Europa could tell, while Okara had gotten a bit taller than she had remembered, she was also a bit more refined with her technique and held herself with more grace- apparently, from her observation as Okara tussled with one of the newer members of the Jovian gentry during the annual Military Reunion, Dione’s tundra biome had done her some good- despite being mostly frozen over.

Then came the crashing wall.

The very same wall that she'd been crouching on top of in order to spectate the impromptu tournament matches.

The wall that she was now falling into a pile of amassed debris from.

Europa winced as soon as she had managed to dig herself out, having landed painfully on one of her arms, but otherwise relatively unscathed.

“Was that Lady Jupiter?”

“Not to sound rude, but never mind that- shouldn't we be looking for Agio?”

“I vote the apeshit freak go look.”

“Call me “apeshit freak” one more time, and I will shove my foot up your ass.”

“Will you, now? Go ahead, apeshit freak- I dare you.”

Europa looked over to see Okara giving a much taller, carrot-topped Terran male a glare worthy of the Great Storm on Jupiter, black hair tied back with a silken, red cord. Her arms were crossed defiantly, as if she was ready to put the arrogant man in his place, and covering her from her neck to her knees was a black bodysuit with the Saturnian crest prominently imprinted on the front of the fabric. On her feet were a pair of worn greaves that looked like they were well-used, acting as a pair of shoes for her.

Europa shook herself out of the rubble, walking over to them briskly as the look on her face became a mask of seriousness. “What's going on, here?”

“Lady Jupiter, maybe you can put this filthy ape in her place?” The male asked again, cocky sneer not leaving Okara's dark, frigid scowl.

Now Europa, who was a normally mild girl, didn't lose her temper easily- but the moment that asshole had called someone she knew as a normally mild-mannered girl a “filthy ape,” he had lost any and all respect from her in a flash.

Before she could step up for Okara’s defense, the fourteen year old had already stepped up to plate.

“Excuse me, aghhabad, but do you happen to recall that this “filthy ape” here has come close to paralyzing you for life when you grabbed her tail last?” Okara grimly spoke, and the Terran bore a look of deep resentment at the memory.

“Ah, yes, the moment you left me without my pride-” He was slapped in the face harshly by the much smaller being before him, clearly stunned as he remained speechless from the shock.

“Let me thoroughly educate you on pride, you spineless coward,” Okara cut off, crossing her arms as her tail slowly twitched behind her like a predator awaiting prey. “Pride isn’t your gods-be-damned ego- it’s the will you possess to move forward even as it kills you, your head held high with accomplishment that actually has a meaning. Not being ruthless and cruel simply because you call yourself a big fish in a ridiculously tiny pond. And as far as I can see,” Okara began to walk past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with enough force to make him stagger and nearly fall over.

“You have none.” Okara finished, sending the arrogant male a glance over her shoulder, promptly turning back and continuing on her way.

Europa could only blink from surprise towards the Saiyan’s explanation on pride, darting over when she had seen Okara come jumping over carrying the Jovian she had been fighting against much like a man would carry his newlywed bride.

“I’ve got him- but first, I’m gonna need a healer.” Europa told her, and Okara wordlessly nodded as she passed the bloodied Agio over before looking over her shoulder as best she could.

“Oya, Phaia! We need some help over here!” Okara called out in the native language of the Saiyan race, and almost immediately, a tanned woman, about twenty or thirty years old was already at their side and examining him before looking up at the pair with a look of relief as opposed to one of worry.

“He’ll be alright, but you’ve sprained his neck to where it’s nearly broken,” This time, Phaia gave Okara an exasperated deadpan. “And please- actually show some restraint when you put someone in a joint lock before throwing them, Okara.”

Okara had the gall to look away, a nervous, cold sweat on her face. “After the last time, I made sure to.”

Phaia nodded rising to her full height and placing her hands on her hips. “Good, because I’d hate to explain why there’s yet another trainee who can’t even so much as move his head anymore.”

Europa could swear that Okara’s face turned into a nice shade of blue at that. “I said it was an accident…” she mumbled as she tore her gaze away from the medic (Which was rather obvious, going by the red writing translating into “Medical Officer" on her white sleeve).

At that point everyone else was taking care of the damaged wall, not even bothering to listen in to the three and their discussion.

“Well, let’s get him to the infirmary anyway. If his neck’s sprained, then it needs to be treated doesn’t it?” Europa suggested.

Phaia sighed. “I’ll lead you. Okara,” she called over to the young Saiyan without looking in her direction, who was slowly but surely attempting to sneak off. Said fourteen year old suddenly turned as stiff as a steel rod, freezing in place as the fur on her tail (and apparently, some of the hair on her head) stood straight up to attention.

Okara hesitantly looked back over to the taller woman, face contorted into an odd mix of a nervous grin and a grimace. “...Yes?”

“Help with the clean-up. You threw him through the wall, you can repair it while I tend to your unwilling victim, here,” Phaia continued as Okara went to do as she was told. “And if you’ve snuck off to do otherwise, I will find you myself.”

Okara grumbled like any other person her age, using her ki to weld stone and brick together anew and replace their original holdings.

Europa carried Agio to the infirmary as she followed after the… actually, what planet was she from?

“I’m Saturnian, if you’d like to know.” Phaia spoke up without looking back- as if she had read the younger female’s thoughts.

Europa staggered.

“I’m sorry?” Europa asked, and this time, Phaia chuckled as her blue eyes met Europa’s emerald.

“Despite my knowledge of the Saiyan language, I was born and raised on Enceladus.” Phaia replied, referring to when Okara had first called her over for assistance. Seeing that they had reached the main wing of the infirmary, Phaia set up a bed in record time before motioning Europa over to lay Agio on the bed.

The Saturnian woman slowly turned his neck, inspecting the damage. “Well, he’ll live. I’d say he’s got a good shot at recovery- at least 95% chance. The other 5% is if he can’t move for a while, maybe two weeks before he can get back up on his feet.” Phaia intoned as Okara walked past the archway that led into the medical chamber.

“Are you actually done?” Phaia called out without looking, and Europa could have sworn that she heard a surprised squeak come from the fourteen year old.

“Yes...?” Okara called back, and from how far away her voice was starting to get at the end, it was likely that she was already walking away from the scene when Europa looked out to see her floating away.

“Stop floating off and get your butt over here, kid. You still need a checkup thanks to your little stunt from last week.” Phaia instructed, having come over to the archway to peek out.

Okara stopped floating, but sprinted off even further down the hallway so Phaia wouldn’t catch her in her clutches.

Phaia growled. “Oh, if either Aryo or Velio were here; then we wouldn’t keep having this issue,” the brunette sighed, rubbing away the rapidly-forming headache.

“Just how often does this happen?” Europa thought aloud, a look of absolute confusion on her face.

“Every time she’s around the infirmary and conscious,” Phaia deadpanned, walking back inside to further Agio’s treatment. “Personally, I wonder if this goes for all Saiyans, because she hates being cooped up in one place- especially if there’s a scalpel in there. It’s like the girl expects be dissected alive!”

Europa looked back in the direction that Okara had bolted in, and, looking towards the ground, saw a small spot of blood staining the otherwise immaculate marble brick. “Hey, Phaia? You mentioned something about Okara needing a checkup, right?”

“Yes, I did.” Phaia was hesitant, as if she had a feeling about what Europa was saying. “Is she bleeding all over the floor again?”

Europa looked further down the pathway, seeing more blood along the stones. “It looks like she was. What happened?”

“Her wounds opened back up, from the sound of things,” Phaia grunted, hauling herself away from her work and into the hallway once more. “Lady Jupiter, if you would excuse me, please.”

And without another word, Phaia was darting after the trail of blood on the ground.

Europa blinked in surprise, unsure if she was seeing correctly- because it looked like she was hoisting a bag containing a heavy-looking sedative over her shoulder.

Ten minutes later, she heard a disoriented groan as Agio woke in his bed. “Did I get thrown through something?”

It wasn’t very long before Phaia came back with Okara slung over her shoulder like a sack of grain, knocked completely unconscious. “Okay, so I have an immobile Jovian and a heavily sedated fourteen year old from a planet halfway across the galaxy- with the latter needing a thicker round of stitches.” Phaia could only sigh from irritation. “At this rate, I might as well get that hair sample she seems so skittish over.”

“How did you even manage to find her? Usually, she just vanishes whenever she doesn’t want to be found,” Agio questioned, seeing the girl appear to resemble a corpse being prepared for a funeral.

“I had to gas her out of hiding, actually,” Phaia corrected, holding up the knapsack she’d been carrying to find her.

Another six months later, and Okara was due to graduate the Saturnian Military Academy on the grounds of Titan Palace.

Europa had made sure to attend, as Okara was someone that she respected despite not knowing much about her- besides the basic information she had informed her with.

So imagine her surprise when she saw that Okara’s graduating generation had yet to take their places for the ceremony, with the graduates helping put the final touches on the stage. Okara was flying with streamers to spruce up the wall borders, meticulous and careful with the way they hung over the stone edges.

Oddly enough, she wore an indigo slim, backless top with long sleeves and a turtleneck, revealing both what looked like a rather bad burn etched into the back of her right shoulder and the base of her tail- just shy of the crimson sash tied over her waist. Her pants were of the majestic violet hue typically overtaking most of the Saturnian Royal Banner, lined with golden trim and likely made out of the same material as the shirt- and on her feet were black flats that seemed to be rather comfortable.

As soon as the fifteen year old had finished (Time had really flown by, Europa noted) she had floated over to the Jovian princess, as if realizing that she had come to attend the ceremony in person.

“Lady Europa? I don’t intend to come off as rude, but what are you doing here?” Okara asked, voice deeper than what Europa could remember.

“I came to see the ceremony. Is it not around this time?” Europa questioned.

Okara raised a brow. “I don’t know just who told you that, but we start the ceremony in four hours.”

Europa could swear she heard a glass break somewhere from the revelation. “I beg your pardon?” she asked in surprise.

Okara’s brow was now disappearing into her hairline. “You arrived here four hours early...?” the black-haired girl reiterated, as if she hadn’t even been aware of the newly revealed elephant in the room. Her tail was raised to look almost like a question mark and her hands cradled her elbows much like a new mother would cradle her infant child.

“...Who told you that we were starting the ceremony by six in the morning?” Okara questioned, a nagging tug in the back of her mind telling her that she already knew the answer to her own question.

“Aryo came by Terra to represent the Miasmic Tribe of Sadala and brought it up before his last meeting.” Europa admitted, and to her surprise, Okara slapped her forehead with enough force to kill a normal human.

“Why am I not surprised?” Okara asked aloud in Saiyago, sounding exasperated.

“Huh?” Europa sounded, not understanding a word she had said.

“Cousins. You just have to love them.” Okara bitterly intoned, a fanged smirk of irritation on her face.

Europa blinked. Once. Twice.

“Aryo is your cousin?!”

#Okara Hadaal #Sailor Jupiter #silmil #for @sirazaroff #two-parter

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Phoenix Protocol 21

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

Ikora's study smells like lavender. To the outsider, it only exaggerates her usual aura of reserved calm. She looks steady, peaceful. To Miyu, it is only further indication that she feels unsettled.

It has been four days since the incident.

Three days since she'd been back to the Tower. Three days since Ikora and Zavala had their official, loud enough for the Jovians to hear them (Shaxx's words, not hers) argument on leadership and grief and plenty of other things that most of the Tower heard. Two days since Ikora had sent her a message: half angry, half hurt but all self-loathing with an undercurrent of remorse.

The door is open so she steps through, centuries of quick footwork making her steps virtually silent. Ikora's eyes are focused on a text propped in front of her, frowning as she studies it.

Miyu takes a breath, wills her hands to be still and speaks. “Do you have a moment?”

The Warlock Vanguard looks up immediately and backs away from her task. “Of course,” She says, almost tripping over her words. “Please, take a seat.” She gestures to a bench, covered with a strangely detailed tapestry. Miyu complies. “How are you feeling?”

Her bright eyes link with Ikora's golden ones. She thinks of the Speaker, and of visions and of what is best and right and what she should say.

“If I told you I'm fine, would you believe me?”

Ikora shakes her head, just a fraction. “I…” Her eyes harden with her lack of surety, “I don't know.”

Miyu nods. Lays a pale, trembling hand on Ikora's arm and pretends not to notice Ikora examining her fingers. They twitch, a result of still-frazzled nerves, though they are mostly the color of her skin and not a pinkish brown-black like they had been. “I’m not angry with you,” She finally says. The gesture is a stretch, but she pushes through. “So please don't be angry with yourself, as it pertains to me.”

“You almost-”

“Died. Permanently. I've been told.” Miyu removes her hand from Ikora's forearm to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Zavala’s been regarding her like she’s made of glass. She doesn’t need it from Ikora, too. “I'm sorry for worrying you.”

“You,” She frowns and Miyu knows worry isn’t quite the word her Vanguard would call it. The Speaker's words flash in her mind. Overwhelmed might be the correct word, but it would certainly entertain Ikora's wrath. “I-”

It's a rarity that the Warlock before her cannot find the words. It helps her feel confident. She might make it through this conversation after all. “I know we have not seen eye to eye lately, Ikora, but there is something I would like to ask, if you're still willing.”

“You were the one who told me you didn’t want to go to Mercury,” Zavala tries his best not to growl, “You told me you would be furious with me if I attempted convince you to see Osiris.” He pauses. It does nothing to temper his frustration. “And yet, Ikora has just submitted a request to allow you to leave that states that you asked to go.”

“I asked her to speak with you,” Miyu replies mildly. Zavala’s eyebrows rise, as if he cannot believe she’s just said that. The Warlock sighs. She had expected as much, after all. “Look, I know you two are fighting but-”

“Our disagreements on other affairs aside,” He begins, voice rising like a wave making landfall. It takes everything in her not to shrink back at the bite in his tone. “She nearly killed you! Her lack of judgement almost cost you your-”

“Don’t you think she knows that?” Miyu holds out both hands. She really, really doesn’t want to fight. He just needs to let her go. “Zavala, listen to me.”

“Regardless, I don’t think this is a good idea,” He says, frowning deeply. “I don’t think you should leave the Tower until we can be sure that this won’t happen again.”

Miyu shakes her head. “And if we can’t?” She questions, her voice flat. It's telling of her own discontent. “Tamashii brought me back a lot when I fought with Ikora. It wasn’t like it was just one resurrection!”

“Still. I’m worried for you.” He gestures to her and she knows she should have kept her hands behind her back. Not that it would have helped, she’s spent a great deal of time with him since things had transpired in midtown. “Your hands are still shaking. You told me they were still painful yesterday. How are they now?”

“Getting better,” She answers. “But don’t change the subject. I need you to let me see Osiris.”

His eyes narrow, examining her. She forces herself not to fidget. “What changed your mind?”

Miyu breathes deep. Forces herself to look him in the eye. “You.”

Azure eyes blink at her in surprise, his frustration and anger momentarily set aside as he studies her. He breathes out an incredulous, “What?”

“You’re the one who said that if anything could help, it was worth looking into. Even if you are at odds with Ikora, and even if you don’t like Osiris.”

“If you step into the Infinite Forest, I won’t be able to come for you, if something happens. I won’t know-”

Miyu closes her eyes. She’d thought about that, but it didn’t matter where she was. There was always some danger associated with living, immortal or not. She takes a breath. “I’m not going to die. Not permanently.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” She concedes, “But I have a good Ghost, and I’m not going to launch myself headfirst into danger.” She rounds his desk, eyeing the newly repaired cracks that have been filled with resin. Shaxx had provided her with his account of things - as well as an apology for meddling. He hadn’t believed it possible for the two of them to develop feelings for each other - more specifically for Zavala to return her budding feelings - but the unrestrained outburst was an undeniable tell.

“I know,” He says finally. He leans back in his desk chair, and she takes it as permission to drop into his lap. His arms draw up around her. “I just worry. I do not want...” She presses her lips to his cheek, but he turns after a moment and captures her lips with his own. “If you really must go, I’ll allow it. But I’m not thrilled.”

“Thank you,” She breathes, tense shoulders relaxing. “And, I know.”

“I only ask one thing.”

“Okay?” She tips her head to the side, waiting.

He remembers her telling him once that she was never selected to be one of Ikora’s Hidden because she has always been an abysmal liar. Her fists are clenched too tight, and her eyes are darting from side to side. Maybe Ikora believed her but...

Zavala rears back far enough to pin her with serious, knowing, sad eyes. Her stomach drops, but she can't look away.

Of course he knows.

“Tell me the truth, Miyu. Where do you really plan to go?”

He dozes lightly beside her, his lips twitching, the muscles of his legs flexing as if mimicking a slow rendition of his gait. She slides her palm down his arm when he begins jerking slightly every three to four breaths, whatever lucid dream he’s experiencing transcending into something more like a nightmare.

When his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than usual. He looks at her sharply, as if he hasn’t spent the last hour or so unconscious. She presses in closer to him, and he kisses her with a fervor she’s not anticipating. It’s like she blinks and they’ve discarded their sleepwear, resting skin to skin from hip to shoulder. She’s pliant, laying back against the bed, looking up at him with unguarded, semi-glazed eyes, the very picture of everything he both wants and needs.

Zavala licks her lips and kisses her once again but rolls over beside her without pushing for anything more. She blinks up at the ceiling, in the dark, lashes beating almost silently against her cheeks. Tilts her head toward him. “You okay?”

There is no answer. She takes it as a no. He makes no effort to explain.

It could be so many things. She is not foolish enough to think he's over the fact that she tried to lie to him. Aside from that, there have been numerous harrowing reports from the Reef. The Awoken are demanding his support. They've sent emissaries to discuss terms. The Festival of the Lost is nearly upon them and they've already lost so much that reflecting upon it for the duration is almost more than he can bear.

Her fingers slip down his face in a too-gentle motion, contrasting with the quick flip of her body up and over to sit on top his abdomen. He opens his eyes after several dips of her fingers down to his shoulder and back. She smiles sadly at him, the same way he’s looking at her. “When I tell you,” She whispers, unable to find the strength to say it at full volume in the quiet of the room, “When I tell you that I love you, I want to say it with all of me. I know that’s unfair, I shouldn't have lied to you, and I know I’m being selfish, Zavala, but please-”

Miyu lowers her lips to his, not trusting the words to say everything she means. When they make love, neither of them speak.

Afterward, she stares up at the ceiling, catching her breath. “Part of me wishes I could go with you,” He says, quietly. She does not turn to him, afraid that he'll hold back based on some unconscious shift in her gaze. “Ikora asked me if we truly needed a Vanguard, when we-” He sighs, “During our argument. ‘The Guardians practically police themselves,’ she'd said.” Soft fingertips follow the musculature of his forearm to find the hand between them. She links his digits with hers. “She's not entirely wrong.”

Miyu stares upward still. “Are you saying you'd rather resign?” She asks, softly.

He looks over at her, his eyes sending extra light flickering down the side of her face. “I thought you would argue with me on it. At least disagree.”

She half-smiles. Zavala sees the twitch in the muscles in the side of her face. “You fight enough with yourself, I think. Plus, you've done this for a long time. No one would fault you - either of you - for wanting to step down. No one is exactly begging for your job.”

“It is not all it's cracked up to be. I do not know how much more I can take.” He squeezes her hand harder. “Are my decisions correct? Will the consequences of my actions or inactions doom those who cannot protect themselves? Am I-”

“‘He has always had such unshakable faith,’” Miyu interrupts him. She sits up so she may look upon his face, still naked and luminous. Twin quicksilver eyes seem to see right through him, shaking him to the core.

“What did you just say?”

The Warlock does not answer, posing a question of her own. “Anata.” Dearest. “Who is the one who speaks for the Traveler?”

“No one.”

She smiles gently, shaking her head. His brows furrow in confusion. “Everyone.”

He persists. “There is no Speaker, not since-”

“We are all the Traveler's voices.”

He has spent enough time around Warlocks to know when one is seeing something he does not. “Miyu, where is this coming from?”

Silence worms between them for a few moments. “I can't tell you everything,” She finally gushes, “But I promise you that your efforts are realized, and the burden of your duty does not go unseen.”

“How?” It is a brittle word, cracked under the weight of stress and and grief. Her heart burns for this man. She cannot allow him to think so little of himself, of his duties, or his sacrifices.

She does not take the sheet with her, when she rises.

“Get up. We're going for a walk.”

#commander zavala #oc:miyu #zavala x oc #destiny fanfiction #miyu the sweet bean warlock #collection: phoenix protocol

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