by Reiter
“The woman gave me a vial of some of the worst medicine I’ve ever tasted,” Adleon shared. “She told me to drink it and wait ten minutes. It’s been ten minutes.” He looked down at himself and then he removed the bandaging around his forearm. The wound there had also mended. “It seems I’ve lost your cut too, Captain.”
“Just let me know when you need another,” Jocasta replied. “That factory never closes!”
“Of that I am sure.” Adleon approached Jocasta and locked his eyes on hers as he started to kneel. A blur from her right side removed the blaster from its holster, aiming it at Adleon’s face.
“That knee touches sand, we know where to bury you,” she said coldly, using her thumb to increase the power of her blaster to maximum output.
“Crap, that doesn’t get old either,” Silnee whispered after gasping at the speed with which her Captain had moved.
“Or slow from the looks of it,” Annsura added.
“Captain, I–”
“Stand up!” she commanded and Adleon reluctantly did as he was told. “What is it with you people, anyway? What were you about to do, take some freakin’ pledge of fealty to me? Is that how it works? You wedge yourself up under some high-ass so you can cut your teeth, learn a few tricks and grab some station. That is, until another ass comes along with a bigger stink?”
“I do not give my fealty lightly,” Adleon argued.
“Why do you give it at all?!” she snapped.
“That is simply our way.” The back of her left hand smacked against his left cheek. The attack was by no means weak or slow.
“Your way is for feebleminded old farts who are too scared to think for themselves,” Jocasta retorted. “But you come from some almighty temple, so that makes you better than the common man.”
“And between the two of us, I am the only one who thinks this way?” Adleon fired back. He was slapped again and his jaw flexed as it was clear he was gritting his teeth.
“I do more than the common man,” Jocasta stated. “More, nimrod, not better! The common man takes your kind of crap because they either think they have no other choice, or they buy into your authoritative crapstack! Well, take a good look at this woman, junior, because she’s not buyin’. She’s not ever buying! And neither is anyone who sails with me, so that puts you in pretty pinch, doesn’t it? You want to tag along with me, you have to leave the craptastic temple behind you. It’s that simple!
“Do you really think this is what Zeu Rex had in mind when he found his way?” Jocasta asked after a moment of trying to breathe away her anger.
“What do you know of Zeu Rex?!” Adleon asked, receiving a third slap.
“This guy just isn’t getting it,” Llaz whispered. “Shut up already!”
“Take your own advice, Llaz,” Annsura directed.
“Apparently a lot more than you do, drone-bait!” Jocasta replied. “You know, he didn’t even start the humping Temple. That’s some bullkot-by-product some of your crony elders threw together to help them get it up; a four-walled whacker lift!”
“Enough!” Adleon yelled, attacking Jocasta with a powerful lunge punch for her chest. A quick slap to his hand guided the fist under her arm and Jocasta quickly arm-barred Adleon’s extended limb. As soon as the arm-bar was set, Jocasta was surprised by the resultant sound of so many blades and guns clearing their scabbards and holsters.
“Now that just warms the heart,” Jocasta said as she looked around at her crew. “… but I’ve got this one.” Stances relaxed and most weapons were put away. Annsura had drawn both a gun and her blade, opting to keep both drawn while her Captain was still engaged with the Gallant. “Aside from the fact that it is probably in your best interest that I avoided that punch, did you notice how your Second Tier Dragon Punch was countered by my First Tier Mantis Hold?” Adleon gasped at hearing Jocasta speak to him using such terms. Terms he had thought were secret and exclusive to the Temples and the Monasteries; places he had been pretty sure the Captain had never studied. “Surprised to hear me speak the lingo, eh? It’s not bragging when I tell you that you don’t know where I’ve been, boy! If nothing else, make sure you hold on to that part.
“Believe me when I tell you, kid, Zeu Rex wasn’t into big followings. Hard to believe, I know. The man’s pinky is bigger than my waist! But aside from his own shoulders, he wasn’t into anything big! Still, someone got a hold of what he could do. Well, some of it anyway. They put a fancy name on it and covered it with wannabe, hot-air authority. I will grant you when they made up the Chevaliers, times were dark and something needed to be done. But that was so long ago! These days the Terrans are not nearly as hounded. So the Temple’s had nothing to do but get twisted and turned so that it’s become its own worst enemy.
“And even if what I was saying wasn’t dead-on accurate, you’re throwing your life away following something you don’t even understand.” Jocasta released the young man and stood him up, quickly straightening his shirt. She looked into his eyes and knew that she would not have to defend herself from his rage again. He was too stunned to fight.
“Captain,” Dungias called out to her and she waved in acknowledgement.
Jocasta took hold of Adleon’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “You want to know why I think you’re the goods? You stood when others either fell or ran. That’s got nothing to do with the Temple and everything to do with you!” Jocasta turned and walked away, making quick work of the distance between where she had been told to wait and the place where the old woman and Dungias had set up the tent.
“Is there anything wrong, Captain?” Dungias asked as she approached. She could tell his eyes never left Adleon while her back was turned to him.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, Z,” she said, grabbing his forearm as she walked in front of him, stopping in front of the open flap of the tent. “What did she see in the sands for you?”
“We were… discussing a few personal matters, Captain. I apologize for the time taken up by our conversation. My reading is meant to be last.”
“Omega,” Jocasta said softly looking into the tent. “Should’ve seen that one coming.”
“And Captain?”
“Yeah, Z?”
“It’s Mantis Lock, not Hold.”
“Right! Right,” she said, pumping her fist at her sensei. “I keep getting those mixed up.”
“Apparently only the terminology, Captain,” Dungias assured. Jocasta smiled, entering the tent.
She walked normally, but it seemed as if her strides were either very short or the tent was much larger than it had appeared. The young woman did not know what to expect from all of what she saw, heard, and smelled, but she was taken aback at finding herself anxious and impatient for the outcome.
“It is a customary response to the notion of being read,” the woman said, but Jocasta noticed a sharp difference in the voice. It was lighter, softer, and sweeter. Finally entering the center of the tent, Jocasta looked toward the source of the soothing voice.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Jocasta exclaimed as she looked upon the woman.
“No, not even a daughter of one,” S’Vrili said as she stood between a small table, matching chair, and a pallet of fine silks and stuffed pillows. Her hair was now wavy and black, framing her lovely face. The orange spots in her eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and Jocasta thought of them as small fires that warmed her body as she looked at them. “Do you prefer seated, or fully reclined?” the woman inquired, standing in the soft illumination of the tent. Her height had not changed, but she was no longer round or hunched over. She was positively stunning to behold, shining and smelling as if she had just bathed in the finest scented oils, and scantily clad in see-through silks and golden jewelry. “Captain? Is there something the matter?”
“Depends on what you mean by matter,” Jocasta replied.
“Oh,” the Affiliate said, looking down at her own body. “You mean this.” She took her hands and caressed herself, taking obvious pleasure in the exercise. “Forgive
me, I am Fazbred, and my particular make means I have the ability to both alter and shed my skin.”
“Good timing on that,” Jocasta remarked.
“Do you care to take a taste?” Without hesitating, Jocasta walked forward and took hold of the Witch’s face with both of her hands as she pressed her own lips to the mouth of the seer. S’Vrili opened her mouth to receive the kiss and they took turns in sampling each other. The Affiliate took hold of the pirate’s shoulders and her hands slowly moved down her arms until she took hold of Jocasta’s hands. They pulled from the kiss at the same time, only to both come forward in a lighter touching of the lips. “That certainly makes my job easier,” S’Vrili whispered.
“Does it?” Jocasta opened her eyes to see that the woman still had her eyes closed.
“It makes the reading simpler to assume,” the Witch corrected herself. “When one encounters such passion, such a raw and powerful zeal for life, nothing is easy. I am tempted to ask if you’d like another ta–” Jocasta kissed S’Vrili once more and took hold of the back of her head to control the depth and length of the embrace. When their lips broke, Jocasta’s mouth fell to S’Vrili’s neck and she moaned in response to the feeling of the Captain’s kisses. “Please,” the Witch whispered.
“Please what?”
“Show mercy,” S’Vrili begged as she clenched at Jocasta’s shoulder and back.
“Why?” Jocasta asked as she kissed the right side of S’Vrili’s neck, moving carefully to the left side, kissing tenderly and passionately. The combination of the woman’s voice, the scent and feel of her skin, and the initial kiss had Jocasta’s head swimming. Suddenly it had been too long since the pirate had seen to the satisfaction of her own passions. She could feel the woman wanting her, almost as much as Jocasta wanted to increase the passion of the moment.
“Because you are only… relentless… or ruthless… hmmm… to those who have either wronged you… or have wronged many. Gods help me… you know I am not an enemy!” Having seen the splendor of the Stars, S’Vrili had considered herself more than ready to take on the readings of these people as they saw to a campaign that was obviously tangent to their true purpose. The touch of this Terran, however, had not been expected and now she wondered if she was here to aid the Star Chaser or the woman he had chosen to serve. She moaned in pleasure and the sweet surrender of her passions, but she could tell her plea had been received and taken to heart. The breathing of both women decreased in depth and speed, Jocasta relaxed her hold on the woman and kissed her way to her mouth and then the cheek.
“No, you’re not an enemy,” Jocasta agreed. “… but you are one of the most painful friends I’ve ever had!” She smiled as the older woman closed her eyes and took a moment to compose herself.
“This changes things,” S’Vrili said as she ran her hands through her own hair.
“Do that again and you’ll be the first friend I cross,” Jocasta warned. The woman giggled as she nodded.
“My apologies, Jocasta,” she said as she moved to the chair on the far side of the table. “But I won’t be the first friend you cross. And yes, you were going to choose the chairs. All pilots do!”
“Did the gloves give me aw–”
“You will find the Star-Wing Corps in the Prism Baronies,” S’Vrili interrupted, and after she spoke she set her orange eyes on Jocasta. “First, you will head to Black Gate, face an old darkness, a new fear and then you will eventually proceed to the Inner Baronial Regions called The Territories. In the Pearl Barony is where you will find them. That path, however will begin at Black Gate where you will find comfort in the darkness. Do I have your attention now?”
“I think you know the answer to that one.”
“I know the answer to that one and many more, my pirate,” the Witch said as she sat across from Jocasta and put her hands on the sides of the table. “Please put yours atop mine,” she directed. Jocasta moved without hesitation and removed her gloves to take hold of the woman’s hands. S’Vrili shuddered at the moment of contact.
“This isn’t possible!” she thought. “This cannot be!”
“Calm yourself, seer,” a female voice requested. She had returned and recognizing the tone of the one that had directed S’Vrili before, the Witch did as she had been told; she calmed herself. “Much better. Nothing happens without reason or cause. Do not think it was the Stars that chose you for this task.”
“You are of the Stars!” S’Vrili asserted.
“That is not true,” the voice contested. “But it is a falsehood that even this Celestial Chorus has accepted. All that has been done has been woven so on behalf of our beloved! Our Star Chaser! And now, you see what we have seen but he has not. The time has come for the seer to see. The time has come for the seer to choose!”
One flash of starlight and the Witch was made to see life through the eyes of two Vinthur who had been and still were family to Dungias. S’Vrili knew the Malgovi… she knew the Vinthur… she knew the Grenbi and the BroSohnti. But she now also knew the trek one Malgovi had taken from shay-spawn to Star Chaser.
“By the Stars,” she thought, reeling from the viewing.
“Indeed,” the voice answered. “Mind your surroundings, seer.”
S’Vrili, realizing that while her conversation with the entity was in her mind, she was still with another person. She closed her eyes as a small point of light appeared just in front of her forehead. The choice was, after all, a simple one. It was not a matter of whether the voice could be trusted, not with what she had been made to witness. Even without that knowledge, demons were looking for Dungias, and where demons lurked, other entities could not be far behind.
“Oooh, a light show!” Jocasta whispered. The woman ignored the commentary, realizing it was a coping mechanism the young woman was accustomed to using.
“What is it that you want from me?” S’Vrili asked.
“Nothing more than what you want from yourself, seer.” It was a response she had given to many but a point of consciousness S’Vrili had long ago secured. It was why she had joined the Affiliation and why she had kept the events of their last gathering to herself. There was a riddle to the Stars and S’Vrili Thakkelwing had dedicated herself to solving it. Beyond Gulmurr, she did not know exactly what she would do. But in this instance, her path was very clear.
The small point of light exploded into millions of glowing fragments which quickly became stars.
“A really impressive light show!”
“This represents what could be your future,” S’Vrili said.
“Outer space?!” Jocasta exclaimed. “Oh, come on! After that kiss, you can do better than this!” A large hand of very pale skin reached out of the abyss toward Jocasta. She gasped; too frightened to move. The gigantic fingers squeezed around her and Jocasta was in too much pain to scream, not that she could breathe in to fuel a scream anyway. The hand pulled back, clawing through Jocasta, and the last thing she saw was a pair of glowing teal eyes staring at her in rage and desperation.
“What the hell?!” Jocasta barked as she sat up, slapping her hip, only to find her gun had been removed from its rightful place. She held her cane in her left hand, which gave her some measure of comfort. Jocasta knew she was moving, but not too quickly, and she looked around to see Dungias driving the wagon that she was riding in; a wagon with no wheels, no skiffs, just a buckboard in a field of stars. Jocasta was alone in the back, lying on top of a large, thick, black blanket. A sharp crack came from the reins and Jocasta looked forward to see two rows of people clad in hooded robes pulling the wagon. There must have been over a hundred of them and a few were not wearing robes… six to be exact, but they were at the front of the lines and she could not make them out.
“Goggles,” she commanded.
“No,” Dungias replied. “You have to use your own eyes… not the ones I gave you.”
“What is going on?” Jocasta asked.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Who?”
&n
bsp; “The one right behind you.”
Jocasta spun around with her cane that was caught in a slender but powerful gloved hand. Jocasta looked into a pair of blue eyes that looked exactly like hers and sparkled with confidence and passion.
“Typical,” the woman said and Jocasta looked at her face, feeling as if she was looking in a mirror. Save for the shorter hair, the woman who had caught her cane looked exactly like Jocasta! “React with an attack? Are you a woman or a scared, little child? Isn’t direct more my thing than yours?!” Jocasta tried to pull her cane free of the grip, but her twin was stronger than she was. “This is a nice stick,” the woman said as she snatched it away from Jocasta. “What do you call it? Oh, that’s right, you haven’t named it… that’s not your thing, is it? If something needs a name, it better damn well have one before it gets to you!”
“Bitch!” Jocasta snapped. “That’s your name!”
“You better believe it, baby!” The doppelganger tapped the head of the cane against the blanket and it shattered like glass. The buckboard shifted violently to one side and Jocasta grunted, reaching for the side of the buckboard. Her wrist was caught and held with her fingertips centimeters away from the planks. Jocasta looked up to see that Dungias had caught her.
“If it is any consolation, know that you are fast enough to save yourself,” he said just before dropping her. She screamed as she fell away from him.
“A scream?!” her twin said, locking Jocasta into a choke hold as they fell through space. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you scream. I guess that’s not your thing, either. But let’s get back to what we were talking about. You know why you don’t name things, Jo? Because once it’s named, it’s yours! Hell, you can’t even name yourself! Just can’t seem to commit, can you? Is that also not your thing?”
“My… name… is Jocasta!” she said, sending her head back into the face of her twin. The grip around her neck loosened and Jocasta landed on the ground, hammering her twin into what looked to be solid bedrock that quickly became loose earth. A divot had formed from the thunderous impact, and the doppelganger let out a raspy breath.
