His relieved soul freed a sigh."Don't do it again", he said as he closed the box and locked it, intentionally omitting the please. "Yes, the Walking Man has been salvaged from an Obstinate", he answered rashly and with some annoyance left. Hall did like boasting of his triumphs, but there was a priority, and its success could have a very positive impact on his future career. "You asked what this all was about." He reached something in his pocket. The guards in front left behind the corners so not to be visible from the chamber exit. "Follow me." He opened the door, which wasn't locked, and let Titanium exit first into the seemingly unguarded corridor as a gesture, but perhaps as a test too. They stopped at another door. Hall pressed a button and it opened.
It was a lift. It was large enough to fit a small contingent of marines, slightly dusty and the paint was scraped off on some rare places, revealing the alloy plating. It had two lights on the ceiling, but one of them wasn't working. If the captain's quarters were the ship's pompous gown, the lift was her torn underwear.
"We are going to the recruitment office. You are to apply and fight for our colours." He accentuated our in reference to her Reaver past. "In that case, you will be pardoned following our victory over the Kingdom of Gallia and also removed the piece of explosive from your body. In case you choose not to apply, you will be back to your previous life, but you will be free to keep the charge." He supposed that the sudden change of environment and his tone of speech would add to the correct impression that he was serious. Previous life obviously referred to the cell aboard Newgate. "Is that clear?"
The lift headed upwards, relative to the ship's artificial gravity field.
Titanium followed the man to the elevator, silently. In there she learned his goal. She almost let a small laugh escape. The two years in captivity took, if nothing, a toll on her mind. When he said his last words in a commanding tone, *Is that clear?*, she lost a small dose of control. "In all of this..." She almost whispered and shoved her bionic arm through the elevator's wall right next to Hall's head, with a speed that was almost impossible. "I still see no direction. Nor cause. Nor goal. Nor reason to live for. So do it. Kill me."
The elevator shook with the unexpected strength applied to one of the sides.
Burgundy System, Planet Nevers - 815 A.S.
There was no crowd. There was only his eyes. His Highness greedy eyes. The man in front of her was a caught Council spy. A hulk of a man.
Yet another poor soul being tortured day and night.
"Tuer! Maintenant!"
His voice commanded. With the limited mobility her broken/healed/broken again leg could allow, she lunged at one of the two swords in the middle of the improvised arena-room. The man threw himself as well, for he wanted to live. Grabbing it, she got back and prepared whatever strength she had left.
For six days, it has been this. Fights to the death.
First day, it was a traitor of his own military staff, one of her torturers. She had no problems carving the man up with the small knife she was given. Stabbed him right in the sternum, and pulled all the way down with all the might she could muster, breaking the blade at the hilt, in the end. He knelt as his innards dropped to the floor, and with a push, she threw him to his own pool of blood and sickly remains. Several stab wounds dotted her, especially a nasty one in the back. Feeling the blood flow through her back never felt so good.
Second day. The prince enjoyed it so much, that threw two of them together against her. She didn't know who they were, all she knew was that they were extremely eager to snuff the life out of her. One finger through the eye socket of one, making him scream for a good minute before collapsing, a kick to the patella of the other and a kneecap to the face, forcing the nasal bone of the other to get shoved up his brain, those two were done, leaving her a mess with several bruises, a broken wrist, bloodied eyes and a perforated eardrum. She puked for three hours afterwards due to the kicks to the torax.
Third day. After a very hastily medical exam and fix job, the first of the prisoners showed up in front of her. Same as her. Same fear. Same rage against the man they could not touch. Also, the first sword fight. She was quick. She was clean. He died with a clean cut on the nape, severing his head. There was applause from the Prince. There was insane rage from her.
Fourth day. Two children. One can could say that they were drones. They came at her.. relentlessly. She died that day. Both mentally and physically, since one had managed to shove one of their tiny blades in her chest, while she twisted the neck of the other. A quick flick of her hand, she shoved the tiny blade of the other through the skull.
They died with empty eyes. She died loosing all belief.
Fifth day. She woke up from a bath of freezing water. They brought her back. Again. This was the fourth time during her stay at Nevers. They fixed her, although many of the cuts were still there, and her mobility on the right side was compromised due to the tortures inflicted. Breaking bones, healing them fast and breaking them again tends to do that when repeated over and over again. As she walked to the room/arena, she heard the howling. Animal without a doubt, a mix between a rheinlandic ice wolf and what one would call a bear. Shredded her skin with its fangs and claws, but the hunting knife that was given did the job on the animal's ears, reaching the brain and killing it off, as its mouth was still biting her right arm.
And now this.
Another man. Reeking of fear. She did not cared. Not since the children. Nothing could justify those deaths. Not her goal. Not her people. Not herself. After gathering her strength, she started to walk to the man who cowered in absolute fear in her sight. A man almost twice her size.
"Die."
She whispered, as she dropped the sword and kicked the handle. Straight to the man's head. As it went through it and shoved itself on the wall, she casually reached the limping body, grabbed his sword and severed the head with a cut so hard that she pinned the other sword in the wall, again. The headless body fell to the floor, letting the warm blood flow and hit her legs and naked feet. She didn't even cast a look at the small window where the Prince watched with greed and went to the doorway of the room, awaiting for her jailers.
She removed her hand from the elevator's wall and composed herself, as she learned several years ago with her etiquette tutor, as a small child living in New London. What was once cold seething rage, was now an expressionless face. "The Reaver Mercenary Company gave me a job. And that was a good thing for it kept me busy. But it wasn't a goal." She wiped with a finger an invisible dust particle from her bionic hand, without looking at Hall. "I lost my true goal a long time ago." She turned and faced the elevator doors, ready and expecting a marine detachment to come for her.
His reflexes pushed him into the lift's corner. He cowered there for a moment, protecting his face with his forearm. If she really aimed at him, he'd already be dead. He didn't really fear losing his life, but rather the situation escaping his control. And it just has. He had to grasp it again, but it was Titanium who had the iron fist. That was because she hit the nerve. Hall's own life didn't have a goal either. All those trophies, books and the fight for political power were merely there to keep him busy while waiting for Godot.
If he called for the marines now, they would arrive on time to identify his mutilated corpse, at best. It was clear, however, that Titanium didn't want to kill him. She didn't want to kill anyone any more, which completely killed the purpose Hall was intending for her.
A desperate though quietly slammed into his brain. He rose and shook his finger towards what appeared to be a hidden camera. He calmly shook the dust off of his uniform with his shivering fingers and looked at Titanium.
Titanium turned to Hall with her mouth opening to reply but her voice couldn't leave. An unexpected question, that brought a slight pang of regret and sorrow. She turned to face the elevator doors and away from Hall's eyes. "Mother's favorite book. Original too. A gift from her cousin." Her sweet aunt. "She used to read it, on the porch, when i was a small child." The vivid recollection of her mother's face came to her mind. "When we left New London, it was her single regret. To leave that book behind." She wondered what her mother would think if she knew who was she now. A Bretonian prisoner. A pariah. A lost soul. A grieving child. A servant of Death. A wind in the wild.
Chugoku System, Kyoto - 808 A.S.
"Baransu to tsuyo-sa!"
Her grandmother instructed. The Kusarian language was still a pain to understand, but that sentence was known after intense repetition. The small training room, or dōjō, was sparse, with only the essentials. But one gigantic hand written Kanban denoted the Hayashi family motto.
Her eyes were unwielding. Unfazed. Always judging every movement. Every breath. It was always the same, the moment they step inside the dōjō. Outside, she was the grandmother, the caretaker, with eyes filled with a brimming pride and love.
The girl lost balance when executing a step in the kata, earning another stern look. And even worse, her grandmother willing to rise from her spot. The old woman moved with a grace that the young girl thought impossible for people of her age. She quickly hit with her feet the right calve muscle, eliciting a sharp pain. How did she do that? A small needle between the toes? The young girl thought. "You must focus. Balance is everything, little Arashi."
The young girl winced in pain and replied. "Hai, obaasan."
One hour later, and all of her muscles sore, she was sitting at the entrance of the dōjō, trying to teach her lungs how to breathe again.
"Your brother has gotten himself into trouble again."
Her grandmother voice whispered behind her. The young girl breathed in sharply, almost frightened by the surprise. Grace was not the only way the old woman moved, but also silently. They all did there. The young girl coughed a little, and the old woman sat in the traditional Kusari way at her side.
"What did he do now, obaasan? Tried to get a free look at a young girl's legs?"
The young girl replied, stretching her aching arms.
"One would wish that. He decided to build an engine, behind your father's back. It did not went well."
Hotaru Hayashi Dagon let loose a small laugh. Her granddaughter did the same when she understood that it wasn't more than singed hair.
"Grandmother?"
The young girl asked for permission. It was only proper. And fitting.
"Yes, my sweet child?"
Her grandmother looked at her.
"Why am i the only one you are training every day?"
She asked with a small pang of fear. Although her grandmother was as all grandmothers, her fury was fierce and unpredictable.
The old woman eyes lost all sweetness and became stern. She then looked at the small interior garden in front of them. "Because... You are like her. A lightning strike. A raging storm that hits without notice. Your mother told me of it. You need balance. Discipline."
She nodded at the end, assuring herself.
The young girl looked to the garden and asked. "What for?"
Her laugh was fulfilling. It would be remembered for the rest of the young girls life. "Life will take you to many places, and so many challenges."
Her eyes darted to the right, and smiled. "And here is your mother."
Tara Nelson Reidman Dagon walked in, clad in a flight suit, with sweat on her brow, but with a happy smile. "Okaasan, how was my young girl today?"
Her smile was contagious, and the old woman smiled still. "Like you. Have you found the book you wanted?"
The mother waited for the old woman to rise to greet her. "No. But i have a better treasure to care for here."
Both women smiled as if they knew a secret that the young girl didn't.
Titanium sighed and looked back. "This." She waved her hand to the elevator. "Your room. So much difference. Your men, tired, ragged. A fear that i could smell. Your fear as well." She tapped her temple, indicating her bionic eye. "Are you that lost, Sir Hall? Is Bretonia beyond that point of despair that you are willing to want a Reaver to fight for you?"
The lift engaged safety-breaks when Titanium punched its wall. Her words echoed through the claustrophobic, worn out metal case. "Bretonia? Beyond the point of despair!?", George roared with arrogance, although he knew how uncertain the answer was. He rose his chin and continued despite of wavering determination, like reciting a motto without believing in it. "We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in... the hills; we..." He was an admiral, for the Universe' sake. He knew how empty his own words were. He sighed and leaned on a cold, metal wall. For the moment, it appeared like he quit. "Who am I talking to?", he whispered for himself as he shook his head, looking above, and pressed the "go" button, which released the breaks. The lift continued upwards. As Hall slid down on his knees, so did his confidence.
Maybe it was the air. Maybe it was being surrounded by Bretonians for two years incarcerated. Maybe it was pity for herself or for Hall. Maybe she was tired and wanted her existence to end. But Titanium looked at Hall, and she stood as she was tought, all those years ago. She reached out to Hall with her bionic hand, not by sympathy, but because it was right and proper."You are talking to.." Her face seemed carved in marble, like the statues of old. "Kaze Nelson Reidman Dagon." She pulled the man up, her bionic hand, cold to the touch. "A woman without a cause leading the desperate." Kaze said, while looking at the bony hand of the man. "Or you want the mercenary that kills without compassion?" She turned to the elevator doors, as she was before, cursing herself a bit for saying her true name. Maybe he didn't knew. Maybe he wouldn't make the connection. Maybe she was still a wind in the wild.
A part of his lip slowly started to contract into a smile. Not a benign smile, at all. Rather a grimace of an eastern merchant on a busy day at bazaar, revealing his black and golden teeth, after the customer had turned their back. After being deceived. Hall managed to suppress it. To himl, it seemed that his action of buying time paid off. The puzzle was assembling. He clicked the "stop" button. In a completely opposite end of the ship, the man responsible for monitoring the camera asked for a snack.
"Misses... Dagon...", he said as Kaze was helping him rise. He looked her in the eyes. "You are not like most of the Reavers I have met. They usually just want to watch the world burn. You don't like seeing it on fire, do you?" "Balance is needed. In every facet of life. I just don't want Bretonia to be the one to burn", she replied casually. "There was a horrible fire in one of the cities of Leeds two days ago." He was lying, but that didn't mean the fire hadn't really happened. "I can't believe we have left children there. And pets. Imagine those innocent animals, not even able to grasp what is happening, running around with their fur ablaze. I only think of my failure. With the poor sods, I have no compassion at all. But, you are not like me. I fumble around life searching for a source of pleasure which I could stick onto until I spend all the life from it, like a limpet. I am waiting to die!" He smiled, not sure himself if artificially or not. "The very moment you woke up, you went towards Ishmael, like a magnet, a goal. It was given by someone to you, someone who cared. I can remember from which burning wreckage I salvaged a trophy, but I don't know where I even got that pile of paper from. And look at me! I'd rather save the Walking Man than the people strolling down the streets of Planet Cambridge, but I am still accomplishing both!" He couldn't resist his pride. A Reaver!? You are pathetic. Someone actually cares for you, and you want me to kill you. Or cared. Certainly wouldn't want your head to explode in a moldy, cramped lift in either case. I'm going to order its renewal, by the way. You made an ugly dent. Don't smear it with your brain too, please." Hall regathered his thoughts like legions for a counterattack. "I'm afraid I am one of those people born without a soul. You are not of that luck. Or misery, I suppose we shall find out one day. I know that you have seen a lot of things. I think there is some soul still left in you, and with it hope. I don't need you because I am desperate. If you decide to go back to the cell, a lot more of people like you will burst out of scorched earth, with their soul burned sterile. I need you to prevent that from happening. To prevent anyone from becoming like you! To be the last of your kind." He hoped these shots have hit their mark. He caught some air, remembering Kaze's manners, the posture. The family name actually rang a bell. The fact that her Ishmael was an original book from Earth. "And by the way..." He narrowed his eyelids in inquiry, as if intending to penetrate through what remained of Kaze's soul. "Who was your mother's cousin?"
Looking at the elevator doors, with her back to the man, the verbiage being thrown at her in the form of a speech was making her loose her cool. Word by word. Each jab hitting home. Her teeth clenched at the vivid image imagined of Leeds burning. As he continued, less and less control she exerted on herself. Her parents. His brother."I'm afraid I am one of those people born without a soul. You are not of that luck. She felt worse. It was ripped from her. "To be the last of your kind!" To walk the hells and with each step your soul is ripped by sins. Her bionic hand clenched. Her bionic arm small rotors were screaming for release.
Omega-3 System, Freeport 1 - 820 A.S.
Madness. Sheer madness. Bombing a civilian installation just to make two people disappear? Silver looked at the several situations at hand, and almost like a puzzle, she placed the pieces in the right position. This whole idea was formed in that sick mind in less than five minutes. It got everyone scrambling. Former colors were asked to be part of it. With odds that the normal man would soil his pants. Yet, for Silver, it seemed it was as easy as choosing her clothing in the morning. Not that she do that.
"Titanium, status?"
Silver's voice croaked in the earpiece.
Titanium sighed and replied, in the darkness. "Spartan, Firebrick, Lazuli and Amethyst are already on site, and have shot the Corsairs. Their pursuers did the same. A full battle is in place."
"Tell them to get clear. You got the charges placed?"
Silver asked.
Placing the last charge in what appeared to be a capacitator for the shield generator, Titanium jumped and fell on the floor silently. "All charges are set."
The earpiece came to life with a question. "Security bodies are placed?"
Titanium looked around. 8 bodies littered the floor. She was thorough and gave them a quick death. "Yes."
"Get your arse to Genine's. Her body double is already there, and Genine is waitin' on you. Steve's one, good too?"
She heard Silver whispering.
"Yes. The relevant paperwork is also with him."
Titanium started to run.
"Fantastic. Get yer arse out of there. You got.. five minutes."
Silver closed the comm.
Five minutes later, explosions were dotting the innards of the station. A burning man ran towards her, and she just grabbed him with her bionic hand and threw him to the ground, with a sickening crack. Another sin. Another soul.
With explosions shaking the Freeport, she kept moving towards the small ship bay, and there she was. Genine San Savage, waiting inside that small Arrow. Titanium punched the console and closed the bay. With grace she climbed the ladder, sparks and electronical bits showering her, and started to make the necessary systems check. Genine, under a cloak, asked. "Is it done?"
Titanium, in a professional tone, turning on the engines, replied. "Yes."
"May my ancestors forgive me."
Her voice croaked with sentiment.
As the bay doors opened, with pieces of the bay falling in their front, Titanium whispered. "May mine guide me."
The Arrow darted off, dodging the raging battle outside.
A moment before she turned to shove her bionic fist, full on, with all the strength she had on that man's face, the sentence "Who was your mother's cousin?" halted her intentions. Her aunt. The aunt that showed up from time to time, that tickled her silly. With one of the warmest smiles that graced her existence. Her fist became a hand. Controlled. As her aunt was ever since. Because her people needed to be so. Because it was her duty. Because it was right. "Ishmael.. Thank you mother." Kaze whispered. A rebirth was needed. And use whatever sins she commited and whatever soul she had. But no more masks, no more darkness. Hall's has shed his and shown his true colors. It was time to show hers. Standing upright, with all the etiquette worthy of a Bretonian noble, she turned and eyed the man. The white man with bony fingers, and no soul. "My aunt is Her Royal and Imperial Majesty, Carina I, by the Grace of her Forebears, Sovereign of the Realm of Greater Bretonia, Empress of Tau, of the Kingdom of the Near Omegas and of her other Realms and Territories Queen, Protector of the Independent Worlds of Magellan and Cortez, Defender of Justice, Head of the Order of the Bretonian Empire." It has been twenty years since the last time she said that. And if her home was burning, Kaze decided that she would burn at her side.
Hall was staring at her blankly. His mouth looked closed, but within, it was gaping open. He did expect nobility, but this was a little higher. If he carried a cup of tea, now he would drop it. "Oh...", he said as he was blinking in disbelief. "Well...", he added while he was trying to remember the genealogy. "I think it would be the best for all of us if you kept that secret until the right moment." He pressed the "go" button again and the lift continued. "Then, would you be kind to recite the Armed Forces motto?" It continued for about five seconds. "Carina...", she began timidly, moving her eyes in circles, indicating an internal battle. The lift made the hallmark ding. "Regina", she tread along the path with more confidence, as the double metal door started withdrawing.
It let some fresher air in, which felt like the first after years, as it opened. Strong light, compared with the yellow smoulder inside the lift, splashed her like a wave. After an eternity in the dark. Kaze lifted her chin and protruded her chest with newly gathered strength. In front, there stood a marine squad with rifles pointed directly at her and ready to fire. "Imperatrix!", she completed the chant, rejuvenated, defying the wall of death in front, alone, with her energy. Their weapons clanked as they put them down on Hall's mark, and cleared the path for Kaze and him to get off.
Later.
Having returned to his personal treasure cave, Hall received Reidman's application. With the smile of a shrewd merchant, he accepted it and positioned her under the Suffolk Fleet in the New London System.
Feeling that the effort had paid off, he lifted the lid off of the harpsichord and played another tune, intoxicated with apparent success. After finishing, he unpacked a certain seemingly very old and obviously very dusty object. It had a lens on its front. He placed it on the cupboard by the supposed CERE box. On the click of a button, an image flashed over the Ancient Egyptian god of death. Hall sat back by the harpsichord. His shadow, which was preventing the rays of the antique projector from touching a part of the wall, knelt before the painted figure.
The image was showing the right part of someone's nose from very close, the someone's hands, one of them cybernetic, and the cockpit of a Templar. It also showed Cambridge space through its windscreen. The ship had just left the Norfolk's docking bay, like Pandora's Chest, and turned towards a trade lane. It led to Cardiff Mining Facility. That was also the fastest way to New London. She didn't have an explosive implanted in her head, but she did have something.
Hall grinned again and started playing the same tune, but this time with more ardour. There was nothing better than a scheme resulting in success. The Suffolk was under command of Fleet Admiral O'Brien.
Hall's thin fingers slithered over the keys. His shadow swayed beneath Osiris. He created a monster, and he knew it. But, will he be able to control it?
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