If there was an invisible observer present in the bar they would see a very contrasting and funny-looking picture. Like if it was scissored out from some sort of a comics.
On one side a beautiful smiling lady, dressed in a perfectly fitting silky gown, standing straight with peacefully raised hands. On the other side a hunched frowning man in a worn-out jacket of undefinable color, with not a very intelligent expression in his face, mouth open, holding unfinished hot-dog in one hand, pointing gun at her with the other hand. Supreme courtesy on one side and lack of it on the other.
---
Rick was staring at one of the prettiest women he ever saw. Rattled by her sudden appearance and hypnotized by the play of her earrings he was paralysed.
"Sir, you could be a fine addition to those defence lasers at the entrance", she said, smiling.
A silent laughter from behind the bar desk could be heard.
Rick stunningly looked at the bar-droid, his face couldn't be more surprised, then looked back at the lady and then realised what was going on and finally awaked himself. He smiled shortly, and with embarrased look swiftly concealed his weapon, put the hot-dog on the plate, used a napkin, stood up and offered her his right hand to be shaken.
"I...I'm....I'm sorry you surprised me a little bit.", he stammered, then continued: "I am Rick Deckard and I think I am a friend of Pops too although I never met him in person."
"Nice to meet you Mr. Deckard, I'm Fiona deLuna. And since we are both friends of Pops, please call me just Fiona."
They shook their hands.
"Same here, call me Rick, please. Thanks for the "beer offer" but I don't drink that much." Her extensive diplomat senses recognised a tiny tension in his face but she left it uncommented. He continued: "But can I offer you a drink?".
"Yes, a glass of sparkling water and a julip yoghurt, please.", she replied and sat next to him.
Rick raised his right eyebrow and turned to the bar droid but she has already disappeared to bring it so he sat back on the bar chair and turned to Fiona.
They both continued in a silent conversation regarding the weather, Villa surroundings, Kallisti plantages, political situation (where Rick was stunned again by her wide knowledge of the area), and other general matters...
Reginald Waverly Esq. looked at himself uncomfortably in the mirror as he tried unsuccessfully to fluff his borrowed cravat; a ghastly dark blue affront, with tiny golden apples emblazoned all about like polka dots. His worn tan vest peaked out from beneath an old but serviceable dinner jacket. He appeared wistful and amused as he finally gave up on the cravat.
Reggie, you have guests. All manner of guests. And you must greet them all properly at table, as lord of this little Temporary Autonomous Zone. I only hope those fresh fish arrive on time; and the fisherman as well.
He had remained absent from the Villa that morning, allowing his guests to fare for themselves, to meet each other at their own speed, and at their own bidding. He had of course been apprised of the incident in the bar. Deckard most certainly was worried about the recent attack on Fnordie, and the bizarre behavior of Kitty. But the holo playback had shown once again the disarming affability and resilience of the Kusaran Ambassador. They had quickly become confidantes, sharing their histories at a prodigious rate!
Spike and Alan had organized a tour of the new construction just over the ridge; showing off the new concealed hangar built into the steep granite hillside. Jay had tagged along as well, after a hasty breakfast of warm beer and hot dogs. His interest seemed to lie more in the fields they passed on the way. He seemed most interested in our new stand of cacao bushes, and in the massive new coffee roaster set up in a nearby shed. He was later said to be mumbling something about elephants and Guatamala.
Fiona seemed enchanted by Ricks telling of the events which brought us Fnordie, the sentient pooch. Rick also recounted Fnordies time as the Ranger Epopt for ELF; and of the recent tragic events which almost brought Fnordies death at the alleged hands of his F-unit, Kitty. Their talk seemed to delve into cyber-sentience and man/machine relations in general. Of course the reasons for Fionas curiosity will be revealed soon enough. I trust we have chosen the right allies to understand and accept the revelation.
But now, Reggie, you may no longer be the reluctant Psychonaut. You must do your best to bind these people to a cause. Not your own cause. Not even the worthy Ms. deLunas cause, as urgent and compelling as it is. But of a cause which may determine the way we primates view Humanity from this point forward. Definitions must be rewritten. Paradigms must be rent asunder and re-actualized..
And we but a small band of conspirators to shoulder the Herculean task. If only Nick could have joined our rag tag band. And Fisherman, what does Nommo, the Fish Goddess of the Ancient Dogon have to say? A little-known countenance of Eris, true, but a fitting metaphor. We fish, my friend, for a new definition of life. We angle to know if this new element, this emancipated cyber-sentience, will become a blessing or a curse to the Evolution of our own primate house.
He took a quick scan of the bar, and seeing no signs of imminent famine or ennui, walked out front to the Veranda. He looked into the bright skies of Canaria, then down at the lake Fiona had noticed that morning. Had she looked deeply into the waters, she would have seen the flexi-crete lining of the lake; the deep indentations in specific places to accommodate huge scythe-like shapes. Oh, a lake all right.. Mals private landing lake. He sat in the wicker rocker where Fiona had napped peacefully this morning.
He could almost imagine her warmth still emanating from the loosely-tied cushions. And her scent.
He looked once more at the skies. Mal, where are you, you bastard? We may hold a lot of the Aces, but you are holding the Joker, the Trump Card, and The Fool.
XM-2333 rolls in the door, sensor unit looking around.
It rolls over to the bar and plants a note down, then rolls back out the door beeping and waving it's arms around.
Looking down at the note, Pops reads,
"Sorry to leave like this but I had to get back for a cargo haul of Deuterium due in New Tokyo.
Spike Harris decided to try some fishing and camp down by the stream.
If you want to contact him, you should be able to find him there. Unless it's about his fishing trip plans, I doubt he'll have much interest, not that he seems to have that much interest in fishing either.
He has charter rights on YTC-2362 so don't be surprised to see it leaving the place. XM will be going along with him to keep the ship operational.
Alan Kell
PS. Transponder in the newly completed hangar is GC-555-2362"
Jay had slipped out early, the draw of the lake and some quiet reflection on his mind.
The end of the world, a spectacular disappointment as usual. Though these events were always over rated.
Fishing, something he must find more time for he thought. The trading had brought enough wealth for several
lifetimes, but no time to enjoy it.
His sleeping partner, and even his brother had enough now to kick back and take life as it came. Flying was
just for fun, and to help those needing the odd blockade run or convoy, though the good guys seem to have
moved on to other sectors now.
Good old Reggie, a man who appreciated those dusty old ancient terran tomes of the original goddess of the
angle, Dame Juliana Berners. The deities of Walton and Cotton and the later technicalities of Skues, Lunn and
Halford, on the art of deception and the patterns.
Those not just interested in the catch, but the hunt, and the just being there.
He wound of about twenty meters of the heavier floating line, and with a couple of false casts, placed it out
across the lake, the fly turning gracefully over on the light tippet at the end.
The smell of coffee was on the breeze, just a few more patterns to try and he would join the others for breakfast.
As long as hotdogs weren't on the menu again.
He started a long slow deliberate retrieve ...
Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."
The Fishin Fool dropped gently in pre-ordained orientation with the artificial lake just below. In a few moments, fliers passing overhead would see only a rather large Kusari-design Sampan in a rather small body of water, with perhaps two meters of water between shore and gunnels. Still enough to drop a line, if one was gullible enough to take the picture at first glance.
Before the auxiliary turbines had even wound down to silence, an automated hovercraft raced onto the small quay, and disgorged a horde of scurrying domestic bots wearing. Chefs hats?
Observing the hubbub from the slim prow of the vessel, Malaclypse chuckled to himself. Reggie, you still have that sense of humor. Eris bless you! We will be needing it!
Before Mal had even secured the (useless but traditional) bow line to the stanchion, the hovercraft had been loaded from the side opening of his refrigerated hold. Salmon from the seas of Kyushu. Sea Bass from Curacao. Even a few huge lunking Tuna from Baden Baden.
Once again, Mal silently thanked those Sleeper Ship geneticists for reading their ancient Bibles.
And they each came, two by two, unto the Ark. albeit this time in a cryonic tryst of millions of viable emybro and spermatozoa, waiting for the tides of destruction to ebb, revealing their new homes.
Mal looked after the speeding hovercraft as it made its way to the rear of the Villa. His gaze then turned to the front veranda, where he could see small figures, apparently with drinks in hand, pointing and gesturing towards him. He waved broadly in their general direction, and returned to the bridge cabin for a brief moment to check for any news over the Comms.
Well, the good news, my friends, is that our mystery guest does not seem to be here.
The bad news, is that he is not here, as well. And further, that I have not the vaguest inkling where he is.
Madam Ambassador, I hope you can shed much light on this matter soon. I do not think we have the luxury of further speculation, or of further withholding of information at this point. We need all the available cards on the table, and quickly.
Catching himself in his own variety of speculation, Mal shrugged his shoulders and moved towards his small cabin, opening the tiny wardrobe to see what might be presentable for the evening. He decided on a jaunty red velvet dinner jacket. We may as well appear bright and lively while we can, eh?
As Fiona and Rick were engaged deep within conversation, speaking about the Universal Trade Rights Act, or ULTRA, the wily Reginald 'Pops' Waverly, Esquire, stepped into the room. He slowly moved towards the two, making no noise until he was right behind them...
"SURPRISE!" He exclaimed, his jubilant voice raised high. Fiona fell clear out of her seat, knocking her head on the floor. Rick almost choked on a hot dog, and then began to laugh at the joke of his host. They shook hands, asked the usual battery of questions, such as 'how are you?' and 'whatcha been up to?'. Fiona, rising off the ground, rubbed her head. Glaring at Pops, she said in her low tone.
"That is the second time I've fallen in this house. I'm starting to think you don't want me here!" Pops looked at her aghast, as that was the last thing he wanted. However, even with her head turned down and a curtain of hair covering her face, Pops knew that she was joking. It was her way; to poke fun at people by making wildly-false accusations that no one would ever believe.
"Fiona, Fiona, Fiona. How long has it been since you were first here? A week? Two? No matter, the increment has no meaning - it's been too long. Especially after I blew up the First Bank, eh? My, uh... 'sources' tell me that you were clear out of your mind in sorrow! Ha!" Fiona raised her head, tossed her hair back around her head, and laughed with him. Rick must have been very confused to see these two, laughing like lunatics. Maybe they needed to be in an insane asylum...?
"Now, Mr. Waverly, I do believe that you interrupted our conversation, by which I mean Rick's and mine. So! Why'd you decide to finally grace us with your presence? Hmmm? Something really big, or really small, must have happened, and I want to know why." Fiona stamped her high-heeled shoe on the ground to emphasize her impatience. Both her hands were balled up into fists, and her face was in the classic 'temper-tantrum' look.
Pops merely laughed. "My, my, Fiona! Not even here for a full day and you think you're the queen of everything? Well, you certainly do that a lot, eh? Hehehe. But you are correct; I'm here because something important has happened. Dinner has arrived! Our good friend, Mal the Fisherman is here! But why would *I* introduce him when he can himself. Mal!"
In the doorway, a man in a very silly, although slimming and dashing, red velvet dinner jacket, could be seen. Walking down to meet everyone, Mal shook hands with Rick, and then Pops, and finally Fiona.
"Hello, my dear ambassador! I am Malaclypse, and I do believe that I've met your...offspring? Adopted, I'm sure; you certainly aren't old enough to have gone through childbirth! I'm glad that you were able to make it, as I've been all over Sirius collecting rare fishies for your three's tummies! And that third fellow...where did he slink off to...? No matter, no matter, no matter. It'll take a while to smoke the salmon, to fry the bass, and to chop up the tuna into little tuna pieces! So please, let's take that time to acquaint ourselves to, well, ourselves! And please, call me Mal."
And with that, Fiona simply fainted. She had no idea why she was slowly blacking out, but she suspected it was this man's verbose way of speaking. Still, she hadn't the time to think about that, for her mind was slowly shutting down...
Rick knew there was something wrong with those hot-dogs. And then there came this stupid Boo! joke Pops made to interrupt their very pleasing conversation. Rick not just almost breathed in the last hot-dog he was eating but he also felt that it triggered some kind of a chain reaction somewhere deep in his bowels. He couldn't pay much attention to what was going on in the room so he was surprised when saw both of his companions laughing like little kids to some silly joke.
He tried to stay there for a while and avoid the coming faux pas. But when this Malaclypse appeared the laws of nature have finally been victorious no matter how curious Rick was about previous Fnordie's spiritual leader and all those kinds of fish he brought. He managed to shake Mal's hand and force his grey face to smile but as soon as Mal showed his back to him he bowed over the bar desk and wanted to ask where the bathroom was. But the bar-droid was already pointing her hand towards the door he first came in and whispered: "Second door on the left, sir."
Rick didn't have time to ask how she knew what had happened and silently walked out of the bar. As soon as he was behind the corner he started to run towards the specified door...
Stand back, Mal. I would blame it on that ruddy coat youre wearing, but Fiona suffered a brief attack of hypoxia earlier as well. Shes still not acclimatized to the atmosphere here. Do you have any of those Oxygenating pills on you? Pops was seated cross-legged on the floor, with Fionas head gently cradled on a forearm. He had sent the barbot for a small O2 tank which they kept on hand for guests who imbibed too much of the local beet alcohol. He pinched the insides of her delicate wrists lightly, and massaged the long, slim fingers of each hand in an attempt to get what little oxygen there was in her bloodstream moving about again.
Umm, perhaps you should do the standing back, Reggie. That look of concern is more than platonic, if Im any judge of Pineals, my friend. Need I remind you that this beautiful lady could be your bloody daughter?
Well, if she is, you lascivious lout; then she is the daughter Ive dreamed of half my life. I know my place.
The oxygen canister arrived, and the Ambassador slowly revived. She looked up at Waverly and Malaclypse, smiled shyly, and uttered a single word: Again..?
Mal quickly reached down to aid Fiona, while Pops rose and brushed himself off . The triptych froze for a moment in awkward embarrassment, broken finally by a delightfully unselfconscious laugh. I do hope the fish arent as dizzy as I am, gentlemen; or we shall never enjoy each others company, and secrets, over their succulent remains..
Well, began Mal, I hereby declare a holiday from any more bloody hot dogs! They may be sacred to Eris, but its no longer Friday; and if Squire Deckards hasty retreat is any indication, Id say they were last Fridays dogs anyway! Reggie! Dont your kitchen bots know better??
Id unpack another F-unit to oversee them; but I thought it best not to bring any more Fnordettes into the world just now. I believe we owe them all an apology for mantling them with freedom and sentience on such short notice. After all, they are still babies in a sense
Malaclypse roared with laughter. Have you seen what our babies have been up to, old friend? Theyve gotten jobs! Theyre working in one form or another for the Anerists, of all things! Theyve even been tasked with starting a Combat Flight Dojo for those green KNF pilots! It appears that our babies have their own ideas about balancing the Chao!
Rick returned just as Mal concluded. Not all your babies have turned to the side of order, sir. My name is Deckard. I must sadly report that your F-23 Kitty seems to have gone rogue, and theres no telling which side of the Chao she serves now
Happy to meet you at last, Rick! said Mal as he reached out a hand in greeting. Yes, Ive been following the news. Ive even been making discrete inquiries about Fnordies condition in hospital all along. Im happy to see he will recover.
And I promise you that the full resources of Laughing Goddess Bakeries and Warbucks LLC will be brought to bear to find and help Kitty; but I fear we may have more urgent matters to attend to first. Has Madam shared any of her story with you?
Fiona stepped in at this point, having fully recovered from her faint. I feel that I know you both well enough to bring you fully up to speed, gentlemen. Mal, I am delighted to meet you in person at last. Although I suspect weve met before in one of your other masks.
Mal grinned slyly. Theres no Fool like an old Fool, my dear. And yes, Ive been throwing a few Aneristic wrenches into the machinery myself. Hexagram 23 is sometimes known as Breaking Apart. I thought it an appropriate name for a humble Samura trader with more than the price of engine components on his mind
Then I have met more members of this troupe than I had even imagined! offered Fiona. And I suspect that my beloved Jessica has as well.
Entirely possible, my Dear. Your protege Jessica is a clever girl, if somewhat willful like her adopted Mother. But, to advance the species, one must introduce all the puzzles possible. Only through testing the reality tunnels of others can we introduce better and brighter tunnels.
But, enough for now! That sea bass smells exquisite! What of Jay Simon, and our new neighbor Spike? Will they be joining us? Pops, please do the honor of ringing the bell, and I shall escort Fiona and Rick to table myself! (I suppose youll be wanting the lovely Fiona on your right, eh, you old horn dog?)
If a certain individual we are both interested in should achieve his goals, then neither of us are likely to see any hope of our own goals being achieved.
it's all about the Light. That Light is being threatened as never before, for all of us.
We have a plan, Sir. Perhaps you do as well. I only suggest that our plans need not be divergent.
At your convenience,
Malaclypse
****
Dark Star mulled over the breif message once again. "At your convenience" was rather open. Despite what the words said, most people are not happy when someone, especially someone who is both highly dangerous and wanted, pops in suddenly.
With a wave of his hand, DarkStar banished the message. It would have to wait for some other time. He was about to continue looking for targets when the message poped up again. This time, however, Crystal Oni was pushing the whole thing up and slipping in his own notes. One raised eyebrow, Dark Star looked at it again.
****
Malaclypse to Darkstar:
Sir,
If a certain individual we are both interested in should achieve his goals, then neither of us are likely to see any hope of our own goals being achieved.
it's all about the Light. That Light is being threatened as never before, for all of us.
We have a plan, Sir. Perhaps you do as well. I only suggest that our plans need not be divergent.
At your convenience,
Malaclypse
-Veranda Incognita, dinner party, small number of people, Quantum Jump Coordinates set
-Take a little break, boss. Death can wait a night.
****
Dark Star gave a slight smile. Perhaps at his own convenience could be at Mals as well...
-------------------
Outside of the Veranda, a small black shuttle touched down quietly in the grass. From the shuttle emerged three figures. Two were the distinct Phantom Marines, decked out in their Powered Armor. The third was Dark Star, dressed up in his silken robe of blue and green. The hood was on his head, and the face mask of similar blue and green thread doubley hidden under a veil of gemstones. The whole flowing thing was at the top of fasion for any society, yet still not quite able to stand out totaly. Quite sufficiant when one wanted to blend into high-society or just hide oneself. Dark Star turned around to the two marines.
"Stay here, and don't draw attention to yourselfs. I'll be back when it's time to leave." Both marines bowed and walked back into the shuttle. With that, Dark Star turned on his heel and walked towards the Veranda Incognita.
Stepping onto the expansive porch, the covered figure rapped on the door. He called out in a sing-song voice, "Oh Malaclypse! It's Julius Kane! I got your message and, since I was in the neighborhood, decided to drop by! May I come in?"
This is the real true story of rock and roll; it was not about anything more then, how to live your life, as a gangster, in sartorial splendor, and turning the world into a place where normality would never return again...- Malcolm McLaren
Fiona did not like Kane from the moment she saw him. Something about him was... off. She couldn't tell what, but her feminine instincts told her that it was best to not trust this man. And so, throughout dinner, Fiona was silent when asked questions by Julius Kane, and never spoke to him at all. It was quite rude, she understood, but it was not something that she cared about. She could disregard him for as long as she needed.
However, high above Gran Canaria, the Ska Ralla sat, hidden in the midsts of its cloaking generators. Inside, the insane Doctor Artifice watched the goings on of the Veranda. He was interested in only one thing, and that was his granddaughter. He would not hesitate to destroy the entire village that the Veranda was located in should she be harmed.
Doctor Artifice had been watching every ship that entered and exited the Omega 49 system for some time, and it did not go unnoticed when this newest ship came in. It was different than all the previous ones, for it had tried to remain unknown. And, to everyone without State-of-the-Art scanning equipment, they had succeeded in such. However, Artifice did have State-of-the-Art scanning equipment, and had paid close attention to the shuttle that launched there. Perhaps, the doctor wondered, he would have to make an appearance, as well?
The Ska Ralla's defenses were set on full. Should anything be unfortunate enough to come within the 10k radius, they would be subjected to the power of a battle station, complete with anti-Asteroid missiles and the Planet Scar, a laser of such immense power that it could carve fissures into planets from orbit. Pleased with his precautions, Doctor Artifice, his NURSE, and a handful of Juggernauts entered a gunboat.
The gunboat would set the party down on the mountains, almost 100,000 meters away from civilization. After ensuring that there were no enemies to be spotted, the NURSE set up a field Cloak-Generator, allowing the gunboat and its crew to be nothing more than a cluster of trees. Inside the field, Artifice spoke in his coarse English.
"If you are to engage someone, make sure it is not my granddaughter! Do not kill; bring survivors! You are not to leave any form of evidence of your presence! And, for Rheinland's sake, do not leave this camp until I tell you to! Until I give the word, you are to stay here and protect the gunboat, my nurse, and I. If you disobey, your brethren will get the pleasure of carving you open and feasting on your AI! Am I clear?"
The Juggernauts nodded in understanding, and went out to the perimeter of the cloaking field. One set up a sniper rifle, and allowed Doctor Artifice to use it. He dialed the scope in to see the outside of the Veranda. The Ska Ralla recorded a shuttle landing there, but Doctor Artifice could not find it. Dialing the scope in further, he found a window and saw, for the first time in his life, his granddaughter. She sat at a five-sided table, possibly made of wood or metal, with some others. Including, much to Artifice's disgust, a man in a red velvet dinner jacket. When would anyone learn that red was not a color to wear for occasions!
After some more reconnaissance, Artifice had concluded that the only true defense of the Veranda was the laser defenses, which Artifice would have to splice past, and its isolation, which he had already terminated. Within a matter of hours, possibly days depending on how encrypted the defenses were, Doctor Artifice could enter the Veranda, remove his granddaughter, and kill the others.
However, that was not the only other stranger to set down on the planet that night.
Near the front of the house, a Rheinland Cruiser landed. From it, 25 men and a very young girl departed, moving slowly in the dusk light towards the gate. The 25 men were in a circle around the girl, with weapons ready. The girl, however, had nothing on that would be hostile, apart from a slightly racy shirt that she had on. She was 16, maybe 17, and had dirty blonde hair that reached beyond her shoulders. Her eyes, a beautiful amber shade, were covered by a pair of sunglasses which were, in the limited light, a waste.
Moving up to the gate, the mechanical voice chimed for retinal identification. The girl just laughed, and put her eye to the scanner. Within the house, an alarm sounded faintly, causing Pops and Fiona to rise simultaneously. If it had been anyone else, Pops may have asked the other to sit down, as he had it handled. But it wasn't anyone else, and Pops, seeing the discomfort Fiona had to being near Kane, simply guided her to the security kiosk.
"Hmm, that is my baby's eye. Let her in, please, Pops. I think Jessie would be a welcome addition to the party." After typing a few buttons, and giving Fiona a look of unexpected pleasure, Pops buzzed Jessica in.
Entering the house, Jessie ran to her adopted mother and hugged her. It was a real joy for Jessica to see Fiona again, after they parted ways at Honshu almost a year ago. Sure, they had kept in touch, but the holo projectors weren't anything compared to having physical contact. After catching up, Jessica was introduced to everyone (except Kane, who Fiona 'accidentally' forgot to mention to her daughter) and was asked what kind of fish she wanted.
Back at the mountain, Doctor Artifice saw his adopted relative through the scope. It would be an interesting night indeed, he mused, for those inside the Veranda with her around...
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