by Reiter
“Tolandria,” Nugar whispered, causing the eyes of the Prince and the Mistress of The Campus to widen in shock. The latter was too awestruck to move, but the former backed away three strides before he stopped. “She is the one who defied the Unwritten Law. She loved a Vinthur man and gave birth to his child! Yes, I think she has quite a bit of anger to resolve!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“You would think, after four days, someone would have cleaned this mess up,” Nyrvann commented as he entered the chamber.
“Show some respect, Dreadnaught,” the Regalion commanded before he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and bowed to the gods of the Empire. He was not a deeply religious man, but there was an essence to this place… and he still held the memories of a boy whose introduction to deities had been anything but harmonious.
“This is a place of the gods,” Ribbisadia added, stepping to the right of the Regalion carrying the Imperial banner.
Nyrvann snorted before speaking. “Then perhaps, little woman, it should appear as such.”
“Have an understanding ear, good Shield-Arm,” Illyana suggested as she circled around the perimeter. “The Dreadnaught must approach this chamber in that fashion. As an Imperial Champion, he is ever on guard of the Throne. While there is no visible threat to the royal personage, he must also contend with his fears. Such remarks are Ironsyde’s way of defending his heart from the grip of fear.”
“Wise is the Lady Towermunn,” Nyrvann declared. “I hope she is as understanding when I demonstrate a more preferred methodology!”
“Can it be that what caused the noted argumentation amongst the practitioners of faith still lingers in this room?” G’Dalior Primuson asked rhetorically. “This holy place has been desecrated by the filth of MoGo!”
With only the sounds of their strides to break the silence, the Regalion approached the center of the room. Coming around one of the lighting crystals, he could see a cloaked figure kicking over a pile of ash and debris before spitting onto a rock.
“There has been a desecration, to be sure,” the figure spoke without turning to face the Imperial Prince. “But I’m not sure it was demons.”
“Hold that ground,” Ribbisadia commanded as she stepped in front of G’Dalior. “State your name and your reason for being here!”
“Or what?” the figure asked, standing up straight up. It was easy to see that they had their hands on their hips, the way their elbows poked out from the sides. Nyrvann’s eyes squinted as he looked at the figure as Illyana turned her left shoulder toward it, bending slightly at her knees.
“Uh oh,” the Chevalierra muttered as she locked her mind on her ThoughtWill threshold.
“Or you will have to contend with one who challenges your authority to spit upon these grounds!” Ribbisadia proclaimed. Until he had heard her words, G’Dalior had been ready to counsel his friend and Shield-Arm about diplomacy. These were sacred grounds, and even in their current condition they were above being used as a spittoon.
“Think yourself in a position to judge my worthiness, do you?” the figure questioned before chuckling. A gloved hand emerge from in front of the figure. It was black, lined decoratively in gold, and gem-studded down the forearm. “Judge my spittle first!” The figure spat a second time, and in both places, the saliva mixed with the debris turning white and bursting up from the ground in columns of sparking liquid. Each geyser fell, forming into two man-shaped figures which towered well over two meters in height. Both figures wielded a pair of maces that should have required two hands to wield properly. The figures fanfared the maces as if they were wielding batons and two points of light formed in their faces – serving as their eyes.
“Stay behind me, Your Majesty,” Ribbisadia cried as she set down the banner and pushed it to glide on a cushion of anti-gravity until it reached the wall. Reaching to her back and hip, Ribbisadia readied her shield and drew her sword.
“Did you say ‘Your Majesty’?” the figure inquired, looking to its right shoulder. Nyrvann groaned in disgust as he moved to stand in front of the Shield-Arm. “Well, in that case, we shouldn’t be using dirt and debris. A royal personage deserves the very finest!” The figure went to clap his hands together, but a fragment of debris flew between his hands at the last moment. The fragment shattered from the clapping, but the figure was stunned, staggering to the left.
“Get to the cloaked one!” Dreadnaught Ironsyde ordered as he charged the two debris elementals. “I will delay these conjurations!” In mid-stride, Nyrvann leaned forward as he jumped and cartwheeled over a low-swung mace. He landed on his feet and ducked under the mace of his second opponent. He then lunged forward, punching into and through the chest of the elemental. Where his gauntlet met the wet dust, dirt and debris, Nyrvann added a portion of pure energy. His left fist smacked against the creature, his energy burst blew out through its back. Nyrvann landed, surrounding his right hand with Force Energy as he turned and punched the descending mace to where it struck the floor just beside him. Lunging forward again, Nyrvann put his foot to the stalk of the mace and jumped, driving his knees through the face of the elemental. It dispersed before its back could reach the ground.
The crystal elemental had already formed and charged toward the Prince, only to be intercepted by Illyana. The thrust of the glass war spear was deflected by her En-Blade. In a blur of fluid motion, the elemental hissed, swinging at Illyana seven times. Each attack was parried or beat away from the body.
“Stop this farce!” Illyana cried, guiding the head of the war spear away from its intended target: her head, cutting through the stalk and both arms of the creature with her next move.
“More commands?” the figure commented, slowly turning to face G’Dalior and his party.
“Not you, my Lord” Illyana clarified, leveling her hand at Ribbisadia who was not braced for an attack on her mind. She lost her grip on her weapons as she cried out in pain. “Apologize before I melt what passes for your brain!”
“Lady Towermunn!” G’Dalior cried.
“Your Majesty, might I remind you that these grounds were built and are forever maintained by the Deistic Deputation,” Illyana remarked, turning to face G’Dalior. “There is no physical path to this place, and one who is not somehow aligned to the Deputation could not breach its wall without guardians being summoned. We may not know this entity’s name, but it stands alone in this chamber. Should we not err on the side of courtesy?!
“And no, Shield-Arm,” Illyana said in a softer tone. “My looking away from you does not mean, in any way, that my grasp on your mind has lessened.” Ribbisadia cried out in anguish as she finally fell to her knees. “Well, at least you have assumed the proper position.”
“That… will be… ENOUGH!” G’Dalior barked as his eyes twinkled with a light indicative of his grasp with his threshold. Illyana lowered her head and bowed, releasing Ribbisadia. Stepping so that he stood between the two women, G’Dalior put his eyes on the figure that was not facing him. The moment he saw the girdle and necklace of the entity, the Regalion quickly lowered his head and bowed toward the son of the God of Light, Sontarr. “Keeper of the Light, a thousand pardons, my Master. We did not know– we have come to investigate the incident that occurred at the last gathering of the Convocation of the Church.”
A smile formed across the face of the brown-skinned entity endowed with a youthful yet incredibly handsome appearance. “Then we are here researching the same incident,” Sontarr replied as he slowly approached Ribbisadia. “My father, Tarranos, seeks answers to that event as well as the identity of the one who cannot be seen.”
“Forgive us if we have– ”
“This place is just as much yours as it is of the gods, Regalion of Primus,” Sontarr declared, placing his hand under the chin of the Shield-Arm. The light that naturally came from the Keeper of the Ingot flowed over Ribbisadia’s body, instantly healing her of the debilitating pain leveled onto her psyche by the Grandmaster Chevalierra. But before she could smil
e to signify her relief, his light burned into her skin and she screamed louder than most in the room had ever heard coming from a mortal soul. “But I never did receive my apology, wench!” G’Dalior moved but Illyana moved faster, keeping him from the young god. Sontarr smiled at the display of emotion and hurled Ribbisadia toward the Imperial Banner. He possessed the strength to make the throw, but only gray ash fell around the silk flag and platinum pole as the chamber once again fell silent.
“RIBBI!” G’Dalior cried as Illyana held her position and kept him from gaining another inch toward the young master of the Etasian Pantheon.
“You may resume your investigation,” Sontarr proclaimed as he turned and walked out of the chamber. He hummed a familiar tune, completely ignoring the cries of G’Dalior. When it seemed that he was unable to compose himself, Illyana applied her talents to his mind and rendered him unconscious.
“Is that why you hit her so hard?” Nyrvann asked. “Because you knew that little godling was going to demand something of notable power?”
“No, because I believed he would move to out-do me,” Illyana replied, allowing G’Dalior to fall to the floor. “ I nearly drove her insane. He would either take her all the way or destroy her.”
“Damn,” the Dreadnaught chuckled. “Then why did you hold the Prince back?”
“And run the risk of angering the Emperor?” Illyana stated. “No, there are clearer paths available to us. Besides, I have just made it to where the Regalion will be less inclined to be found in the company of either of us until he has grieved over the loss of a good friend and sister-at-arms.”
“And you designs on being invited to his bed?”
“I did more to him than render him unconscious, Brother,” Illyana laughed as she started for the doors. Telekinesis took hold of the body of the Regalion and he floated on air behind the Chevalierra as Nyrvann collected the flag.
Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
Carl Sandburg
(Rims Time: XII-4203.29)
The tall, slender, redheaded woman giggled as Michael Ress took his time nuzzling her neck.
Their bodies lay intertwined with one another in the middle of the rather large sofa; the light from the fire danced over her nearly bronzed mocha complexion and his pale skin. The last of her robe clung to her shoulders; she moaned at the delight of his touch. His hand moved up slowly from her waist, across her stomach, and up the center of her chest to her chin so that he could lift her lips up closer to his. She kissed him passionately; his hand moved around her face to the back of her head. He pressed his lips harder against hers and she caressed his chest as her hand moved down to his crotch. It was clear to Teoda that he was aroused, but she wanted to delight him further with a tender, massaging grasp. His moan signaled that her touch was something he wanted more of. She turned so that she could face him and the door buzzer sounded. Their lips parted and his forehead rested against her chin.
“I am an officer,” Ress said softly. “I can kill whoever is at the door and order someone else to take responsibility.” Teoda giggled, shaking her head.
“You wouldn’t want to do that. Go and see what it is; I’ll keep your place warm.”
“You had better,” Ress said getting up. He took the sheet that had been used in their last sexual engagement and covered Teoda with it. “Perhaps we should move this to the bedroom as well.
“There’s no fireplace in your bedroom,” she countered. Ress only smiled at the woman, donning and cinching his robe as he approached the front door.
“Enter!” he called, hand-combing back his long black hair.
“Sir!” a member of Watch Guard walked into the suite carrying a data-pad. He held the device away from his body and toward his superior, taking only a moment to see the nearly naked woman on the sofa. “Sir, we have a ship sighting.” Ress looked over his left shoulder to see that most of the sheet was on the floor and her left leg was completely uncovered. His nostrils flared before he returned his attention to the pad. He stepped slightly to his left as he sighed in frustration. He started tapping commands into the pad.
“A sighting of a ship beyond the boundary marker?!” Ress asked, clearly agitated at the interruption of his personal event. “Is that all you have?”
“Sir, we’re not able to confirm the ship, but–”
“Wait! Stop! Did you just say you don’t even have signal confirmation?!” The soldier stammered but Ress spoke again. “Shut up!” He entered more commands into the pad as he shook his head. “You know, I knew when I was brought here… that I was going to deal with certain levels of incompetence… but this exceeds my worst fears.
“It seems that an example must be made,” Ress concluded. “Give me your sidearm!”
“Sir?” the soldier asked before he was slapped hard across the face.
“You want to act like you didn’t hear me again?” Ress asked. “Hmmm? Do it and do it now!” The young soldier pressed his lips together as he breathed hard, drawing his weapon and handing it over to his superior who examined the device.
“Damn, it has a stun setting,” Ress remarked, adjusting the power level of the gun. “Oh well, I guess you will be waking up. What grade is your armour, soldier?” Again the young man stammered and Ress’ eyebrows lifted. “You don’t know?!
“Dear, you may not want to witness this,” Ress sighed, looking back at Teoda who gasped before slowly turning her head away. “These stun settings play havoc with the nervous system of the target. Victims have a tendency to drool or piss themselves when the necessary amperage is exceeded.
“For example,” Ress said as he turned and fired on the woman. His thumb pressed a command on the data-pad at the same time, and the soldier jumped as he heard weapons fire outside the window in the distance. “Did you come alone, Troop?”
“No sir!” the soldier replied as Ress fired a second shot. “I’m here with another.”
Ress nodded in approval. “Soldier, get in here!
“Note how she has yet to make a sound,” Ress stated, firing a third blast. “She’s all but naked, the capacitors must be sub-dermal.” The second soldier came into the room and came to attention.
“Draw your sidearm, set for maximum stun, and fire on this woman!” Ress ordered as he fired again. Teoda looked up at him and there was no softness in her yellowish-green eyes; just an anger at having been outdone. The stunner had not fully overwhelmed her, but it had made it to where it was difficult to move. Ress fired again as the soldier also took a shot and missed. Ress dropped the data pad, stepped to his left, snatched the gun from the second soldier, and started firing with both weapons.
Two points of light, one in either forearm, began to shine brightly enough to be seen through her flawless skin and Ress smirked. “There we are,” he said softly, firing both weapons once more. Teoda screamed in pain as her back arched up off the sofa before her body collapsed. Tossing the depleted pistol at the first soldier, Ress fired once more and the woman screamed in rage, pain, and frustration at the struggle her body and implants had failed to win.
“Of course, if you’re with the Field Marshal, you’re not some run-of-the-mill operative,” Ress said, picking up the pad. “You’d be trained… well-trained… and the three of us would have been easy prey had we been stupid enough to get close before you were subdued.”
Ress looked back at the second soldier and smirked. “Since you can’t hit a prone target at less than ten meters, you get to go over there and punch her in the crotch!”
“Move!” the first soldier barked and Ress looked at the young man.
“Afraid I was going to slap him too?” Ress asked.
“To be honest, sir, I didn’t know what you would do,” the soldier replied. “I just know I didn’t want to see it happen.”
“What’s your name, soldier?” Ress inquired as he could hear Teoda being struck. She coughed and rolled to the floor.
“Habrym,” the young man stat
ed. “Private Eostun Habrym, sir.”
“Eostun?” Ress repeated, turning to face Teoda. “Parents are the hopeful sort, eh? From what I’ve seen, they are well within their rights. You’re young and not ready for this sort of work, but your engines aren’t cold. You’re ready to engage, you just don’t know how. Would you care to learn?”
“Yes sir!” Eostun answered quickly.
“I met this woman tonight,” Ress stated. “Library full of people… and this walks up to me. Stars are in the sky for a reason, son. Do I look like I could net this?”
“No sir,” Eostun said after some hesitation.
“You, over there, bind her,” Ress ordered. “And set the restraints at maximum yield.” Ress looked back at the young soldier. “Damn right I couldn’t. But I am the new Intelligence Officer, aren’t I? Not stationed here long enough to necessarily know the lay of the land… low-hanging fruit.
“Take her in, but not to the main base,” Ress said, handing the weapon to Private Habrym and walking to get his clothes. “No need to import our troubles. Take her to the local constabulary instead, lock it down on all levels, and put her in their best cell. Then I need you to order an interrogation. Robots!” Ress stressed as he started dressing. “I don’t want any soft eyes in the room.
“And in case you are wondering, the name of the ship in the report is the Harbinger. It is a battleship under the command of Folisia Blejjer, a Darkbred woman who prides herself on being effective at laying targets low. She is often the Point Man for the Field Marshal. If we can see her ship, there are five to ten gunships we can’t see. After you secure the woman, I will need the Baronial Fleet put on alert. Send word to our liaison at Black Gate and then come and find me. I will be at the Governor’s Palace.”
“At this time in the evening?” Eostun asked, looking at his brace-com.
Ress let out a single burst of laughter and smiled, looking at his new protégé. “Don’t ever say I never did you any favors. I can just imagine the very first question he’s going to ask me.”
