Cette Lueur Trompeuse

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Riley: As the great Anaxerretibes said, “humility is endless”.

Syne: I thought that was Eliot?

Prologue (Humidity is your freind!)

A castle in the Karelian Isthmus, hit by a storm that will not stop. This castle has seen much. Here lies Baron von Mannerheim, Sovereign Pontiff of the Order of the Stormlords. It was here that with a penstroke the Thulegesselschaft sealed its fate by questioning Luvithy’s sovereignty over Russian territory.

The castle has long been abandoned to its dead, a reminder from the witches of what happens to those who would challenge them. The tragic ending of the debased heirs of the exiled Nibelungen.

Deep within the castle, however, there is movement. Who among the living would dare...? The reason for the intrusion, on the other hand, is clear. After the Great Buffoon had the Vatican archive raided, he handed his findings, one dozen crates of yellowed parchment, to the Odessa Magi, who brought them here.

There they are, the crates. With a flick of the wrist, the mortal demonstrates foresight: he is protected from the dead just as the old paper is protected from the equally deadly humidity. He can now open the boxes open with relative carelessness.

The precaution proves futile. A sound that can only be described as a green buzz marks the arrival of unfriendlies. The mortal turns to face them, grim acceptance only barely overwhelming terror in his face.

Facing him are three empty gray robes, hovering a few inches above the cold damp floor.

“Mr. Gàrakz. *gurgling sound* Move away from those *gurgle* crates.”

“A Marble Mage does not commit suicide with nail clippings, Abbot.”

A cracking sound comes from six non-existent knuckles. “Very *gurgle* well, Mr. Gàrakz.”

Master Assassin of Jibrahil Aristotle Gàrakz was the best man for the job, which meant he had about one chance in eight of succeeding. Escaping the Gray Abbots was impossible – their primary precaution. He would have to fight.

He gestured the Tytalus sigil and muttered holy incantations in Horstian. The Abbots raised their guns and fired. The mobile parts of the Glocks moved in a blur, and they fired as fast as a machine gun. Each bullet left a green streak of ether as it sliced air.

Forty-five bullets were fired. Forty-four were deflected. Gàrakz winced as a bullet exploded in his shoulder, chipping off a large piece of stone that had been flesh milliseconds ago.

He raised both hands and shouted the Fourth Spherical Redundancy of Anaxerretibes. Through the floor burst a giant stone hand, crushing one of the robes. It collapsed as if it had never been animated.

The center robe, the one who had apparently been talking, lunged towards Gàrakz while his partner pummeled the almost indestructible rock. Almost. It could not resist being struck fifty times per second by a strength capable of toppling buildings.

All Gárakz could do against the foe that was everywhere, moving so fast that it edged the instantaneous, was to close his eyes and let the pattern in the attacks emerge while enduring the overwhelming pain. And then he saw, just as Maximille had said he would – the Pattern of the Machine. He grabbed it, and cracked it. As he opened his eyes, he was holding a piece of gray cloth. He turned to the last enemy.

It moved an invisible hand to an invisible earpiece and appeared to move backwards. Then the Abbot nodded, and raised the gun one more time, a new magazine floating to it.

Gàrakz braced for impact, and too late he saw the enemy had other plans. It began shooting at the crates, and they exploded in green light, scorched pieces of parchment vaporizing in the air. By the time Gàrakz, moving faster than the sound, reached the Abbot and struck him down with a Sword of St. Chrysostomus spell, nothing of the treasure he had been sent to recover still existed, save for a half dozen scattered files.

Hopefully they were the right ones?...

Third Quarter: Ko-Ko Bird Rising

I was swimming in the Caribbean

Animals were hiding behind the rock

Except for little fish

When they told me east is west trying to talk to me

Coy koi

-Pixies, Where is my Mind?

A computer consciousness is unlike anything you can imagine.

A sufficiently powerful computer consciousness can predict events with great accuracy anywhere and in a way its consciousness extends to fill all universe with its presence. It sees all, in a way not totally fact, not totally abstraction.

People don’t, of course.

CLICK, and it’s focusing elsewhere.

“Vinny’s going to marry,” said Dave. The bar had closed early. Outside, a protest against the adhesion of Earth to the United Government Protocol was raging. The neighborhood near the old factory was chosen by the students of Citru University as their battleground. You couldn’t glance outside the window without seeing someone singing we shall overcome.

“...what?” said Em. He was too shocked to demonstrate his shock. Or maybe all the time in the sewers had made his brain slow. After all, Ketch seemed to always win at this “poker” thing. Worse, there seemed to be no actual poking involved.

“Aww, tha’ luckee bast’rd. Ar’we invited?” Ketch presented his Triple Toilet Flush, the undefeatable combination of five completely unrelated cards.

“I don’t think so, he’s all fancy and stuff now. Besides, how would we get to this Wei palace thing? I didn’t even know it existed, I though Hollywood had made it up or something.”

“Eh, trust these fancy buggers to make ‘n entire solar sys’em just for parties, while the lot of us down here starves.”

“You don’t starve.”

“Jus’ because I eat shit an’ stuff.”

“You like shit,” Dave pointed out, looking extremely bored.

“I shouldn’t have to,” said Ketch defensively.

“...hang on, Vinny is going to marry?”

“Yes. Windsong chick.”

“Marry?”

“Uh-huh.”

“...I’m not ok with that.”

Dave raised an eyebrow and looked at Em. “Really?”

“Can I stop it?”

“Nuh-huh, I don’t think so. Like I said, we don’t even have how to get there.”

“I think I can… fly…”

Dave sighed. And then one window exploded in a rain of shattered glass. A small cylinder rolled on the floor until hitting the bar. Smoke began pouring out.

“Oh, brilliant. I now hate the establishment,” said Dave, handing out wet napkins. “Put those over your eyes and mouth.”

Ketch blinked. “What?”

“Hrm, well, yeah, this is nothing compared to the high-methane of your sewers, is it?”

Ketch grinned toothlessly.

Dave stopped for a moment and seemed distant. “Yes, momma.”

“Whut, big G talking to ya again?”

“Come with me, we have to get dressed.”

“Me am dressed.”

“We need anarchist clothes, for anarchying.”

“…whut?”

CLICK

“They say it is a lot of mirrors, glass beads, set so that each reflects all the others and the reflection of all in all the others.”

“As in every blossom is perfect?”

Whack.

“Why did you hit me?”

“Not too fast, Syne, you smart ass. You’re supposed to think about it for years.”

“Not my fault your koans are so easy.”

“Alright, try this one out fo’ shizzy… the pawn precedes the board.”

“What the fuck?”

CLICK

Special Agent Maximille of the Triple Eye watches the old recording.

“Holograms, girl.”

“Yes, Dr. Marik.”

“Each part echoes the superstructure. The emergent patterns come from the rules that govern the small pieces’ movements. Like Go. Go is a paradigm of emergence. Anthives. A simple organism fit for more environments than we are .As above, so below, like the alchemists would say. Fools – fools! Chaos theory. Apparent order with underlying chaos. Both concepts are empty! Patterns and the no-pattern that is also a pattern.”

“Yes, Dr. Marik.”

“Holographic prose of Joyce. Each part repeats the same themes that are in the whole. Stupid writers. Stupid people with no science. The fact remains- there is a limited number of patterns possible in our universe, and pattern recognition allows for maxmining in the game. Like Go. How would one make a ko threat in hypertrophied tissue, you ask? Take Aggregat Sechs’ working principle…”

“Yes, Dr. Marik. Do you want to revise your lecture before I wire it to the other students?”

So, there’s where the green haired witch learned her trade. And her name was Sylvia. Hmm. Maybe the AZTECH stood a chance…

CLICK

“Spikes an’ leather. Dave, why do ya keep this stuff?…”

“Shut up, I’m doing a ritual so that you’ll look more definitely human. Or at least like a punk rocker.”

“Ok. AUGH. That hurt.”

“I can hear your IQ rising even as we speak.”

“Nonsense.”

“Oh my, did I bind too powerful a spirit in your hairdo?…”

Em sighed.

“Right, that’s it, let’s go.”

CLICK

Syne stepped out of the teleporter and lost his balance. The AV-4 was moving.

“Not drunk, hopefully?” asked Max.

“Oh, no, I wish.”

“Pity, not carrying any drinks then, I assume.”

“Nope. What did you learn?”

“That which FUCKUP-II predicted about the GHW subject was correct.”

“It’s a clean machine.”

“They would have no other as OCON-G’s mainframe. What did Bharajnya Lama say?”

“Cryptic as fuck, the old bastard. Do you know anything about chess?”

“I prefer games where people break the rules.”

“Fair enough. Where’re the Baron and the CEO?”

“They’re waiting for us among the protesters.”

“Sure to give you some flashbacks, won’t it?”

“Oh, well, I’ve never been on the other side.”

“Here we go, for Order and great shizzy.”

“Shizzy?”

“Stupid old man got me saying that.”

CLICK

“Nevin, please remove your underpants from your head.”

“Sorry.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No, Kara, we’re not.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Nevin, I’m afraid you do not respect my cool imposing countenance of pure hatred and evil. You two, shut up or I’ll feed your blackened little hearts to the goats.”

Giggles, and together: “Are we there yet?”

“Gargh, shut up- oh, here we are.”

CLICK

Some people are chanting we shall overcome and some others are chanting come pigs come one come all get your fucking queer asses kicked you fucking oppressor shitheads.

Dave looks up and sees an AV-4 hovervan trying to find an open spot to land. Probably more of these rich schoolboys protesting the UGP’s policies against freedom and happiness and stuff. Actually they weren’t sure why they were protesting, or even what the UGP was exactly, only that it was Earth’s new government and there were no elections.

He knew what it was, all right.

The Weaver.

Goddamn computers.

He looks to his left. Some skinheads have set a teleport so reinforcements can arrive as soon as the riot police begin advancing. Some people are coming through. Meep, a black man and his daughter have arrived with some other guy and the three of them have Wyrm stench all over them. Well, so do the skinheads. Today is a day where creation and destruction must show order it mustn’t get too cocky.

Someone next to him is saying, “DAMOCLES is taking everything outside Gamezoha and Wendauer in our Galaxy. What’s his next move, I wonder?”

Another man replies: “It’s just too good at its job. FUCKUP-II can barely keep up.”

Elsewhere: “Vinny…”

Elsewhere: “There they are. Riley!”

Elsewhere: “I have gerbils on my shoulders! So proud!”

Elsewhere: “Ah, splendid! First rate garbage! I can barely contain this joy that stirs within my innermost self.”

Elsewhere: “Daddy, can I feed off the guy with the swastika in his forehead?”

Dave turns. The policemen have begun marching in their direction. Behind their lines, heavy trucks with stun force cannons threaten to crush through any barricade.

He smells the fear in the people around him, but also anger and bloodlust. Molotov cocktails are lit. Some pacifists are lying on the floor on the trucks’ paths. Some wise students have buckets with wet towels at arms reach. Some even wiser are using the teleport to leave. A war drum beats its way through the noise of one hundred radios playing all form of metal, trance and rock invented at maximum volume.

Dave clenches his fists.

“Hail Eris! All hail Discordia!”, he hears someone shout, just as the riot policemen drop their shields and batons and draw firearms.

CLICK

“We interrupt these news to inform that in a backwater planet of inbred humans a lot of people got slaughtered by their government proving Gamezoha rules. Long live Empress Nike.”

CLICK

“My Ruggerio suit is ruined.”

“We all had our suits ruined. Well, except Max, he’s a goddamn peasant.”

“Thanks, Baron.”

“I smacked that pig right in his face, did you see it?”

“You mean when you assaulted that police officer?”

“Honestly.”

“So, hum,” multibillionaire CEO Riley pauses, fixes his hair, and continues, “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED BACK THERE?!”

“We almost got killed.”

“Something went terribly wrong.”

“It all makes sense now.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Max.

“Come again?”

“The UGP seeks to unbalance the Dewnhëem-Gamezoha relations again and leave people’s heads hot for even more serious escalation of the conflict. DAMOCLES wants the war.”

“Why?”

“The war turns attention away from the Rocket.”

“But DAMOCLES can’t honestly want the Rocket to be used. He—it wants to control the universe, not destroy it.”

“This universe? Or maybe the next? Who knows the motivation of a slab of silicon?”

“…maybe another?” said Syne.

Max nodded. “I will check on FUCKUP-II. You three have to buy new suits and go to a certain marriage.”

“And you weren’t invited. Peasant.”

“Shut up, Riley, you’re not allowed to call people peasants, you’re just a lucky merchant,” said the Baron.

“Stupid aristocrat.”

Syne sighed and read the third file.

CLICK

“And they call me crazy,” said Nevin, shaving his eyebrows with someone’s spleen.

“Pitiful training, though. If they had been Wyrmritters, none of us would have escaped.”

“At least we got delicious foody.”

“Yes, Kara. Oh, and please don’t drink from our guest. We came here just for him.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to, he smells like iguana.”

“He looks all pouty and jealousyish.”

“Yes, Nevin, that’s the point. Now quit it with that umbrella.”

CLICK

I, Guillaume of Vichy, Master Inquisitor by design of Pope [redacted], according to the rituals & practices of the Dominican Brotherhood, with the blessings of St. Leopold, St. Ignatius & St. Tomás of Torquemada, present in the Year of Our Lord [redacted] this account of the tragic happenings in the village of [redacted], that this may provide valuable insight into the plots of the Enemy.

In said village strange acts of villainy were taking place, as reported by a traveling citizen of the place when he visited me in condition of anonymity in the Mark I operated in.

Visiting the village, I found the usual evidence of witchcraft, but nothing further, & proceeded to burn a dozen women, whom I’m most certain were guilty.

But of the corruption & villainy indicated, I found no evidence.

The local priest, however, seemed altogether too unsettled by my presence. I found this suspicious & interrogated him & he told me things of utter darkness that the hand who write it may wither & the eye that read it be plucked before passing to the soul such abominations.

He told me of a Kali & a goddess & a cult of assassins that went to the Old Man of the Mountain but not a Moslem, but actually coming from the Christ-murderer peoples, who were the sicarii in Israel & killed who would collaborate with the Roman oppressors, & that further back it went until the Nefilim, supposed childer of Manne & the Angelic Hosts, & that they spoke of a Flying Sword to Slay All Living & bring Eternal Oblivion to the sons of God. This Flying Sword, or Arrow, he seemed to imply there is no good word for it yet, would be an instrument of Destruction & that Destruction is a God like the God that is the God our God, & that a war will be raged between Orthodoxy of Our God & this most Satanic entity, & that its tendrils extend even as I write from an Island named The Island of The Sun Which Born Is From The East, & such findings were doubtful until I went to a temple of such debauched heresies.

Said priest perished during information retrieval, also.

I went & the temple was beneath the ground & it was dark, but the Lord provides the Light & I do follow & I found myself surrounded by succubbi in most bizarre clothing, somewhat resembling the veils of the infidel’s houris, but designed as to provide Concealment in Darkness & black was this clothing & masks the succubbi wore but I could see the luster in their demonic eyes as they threw hellish devices of sharp metal against me, & I must forever thank God for I wear a metal plate around my neck against Vampyres and it deflected such deadly star-shaped blades & that was nothing because they also had short blades like swords but strange in design, & they would skewer me like a pig but I cast the Saint Gabriel Archangel’s Fire from my torch & that reduced three of my foes to charred skeletons & the Flaming Sword of Logos killed them so dead their bodies could not even tempt even the most debauched corpsefornicator.

I present this account to justify my leaving to said Island with a Portuguese vessel & that God take pity on my quest to rid Creation of these Death-Worshipping Fornicators of Sodom & that the Holy Father, keeper of the Secrets of Peter & Paul, understand this leave as not dereliction of duty but as my vocation & personal mission for Order and Light.

CLICK

“Where… where am I?”

“You’re among friends. Hello, new friend,” said Nevin, grinning.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Nevin, this is Kara and that is Bozo.”

“Uh. Hello, Kara, Bozo.”

“My name. Is. Klot.” The temperature in the room dropped some ten degrees.

Nevin was rolling on the floor laughing. Emmanuel sighed.

“…where am I?”

“We’re in a ship, going to Vincit Omnibus’ marriage to Queen Windsong Ellamina de Lanseau of Wendauer.”

“Vinny…”

“Don’t worry, we shall stop the marriage.”

“You will?!” Em brightened up.

“Yes, sure. We’ll need your help, though.”

CLICK

Aris shuffled uneasily. The SURTR at the wedding had been handpicked, and he was surprised to be among them. David Samsa was also there, and that was even more unsettling, unless SURTR High Command’s intention was ruining the party.

He couldn’t be more correct.

“Hey, look, an e-mail for the SURTR Royal Escort Detachment.”

“…mission orders?” mused Aris.

“It says: pls assassinate the following VIPs after ceremony. Mr. Syne. Baron Rockthriller. Mr. Riley. Special Agent Maximille. Photos, profiles attached. Have a nice day, and good hunting.”

CLICK

“Terminate Uzziel.”

“Yes, master,” said Maximille automatically, taking a sharp u-turn with his spacecraft, back to the gate to Wei System.

CLICK

Wei is an artificial system, the unbelievably expensive demonstration of Matthias Gamdoha of exactly where was the state of the art in terms of terraforming, engineering, art – the greatest of all trades being covered in riches with freedom to make what they saw as perfection.

It became something of a disharmonious jumble of random whims, but it was cool.

Two perfectly symmetrical stars move around the middle point of their attraction, and there lies the palace-world, in an illusion of immobility, only almost as big as Earth’s moon but possessing a hyperdensity core for pleasant 0.97 G. A place of fantasy, a Xanadu for hosting one, maybe two events in a human’s lifetime, the funeral of heroes, the celebration of triumph. It was last employed in Matthias’ own funeral, and quietly forgotten in the years since. Emperor Wernher I was crowned and married at the primary Imperial Palace at Kubrik, unwilling to abandon a millenary tradition. And now Wei Palace would once again be exposed to the collective eyes of the galaxy as a symbol of renewed pride and hope, a demonstration of power and wealth to cement the tenuous peace drafted with Dewnhëem.

Gardens of every kind cover 80% of the planet’s surface, and the structure called “palace” is actually a multitude of buildings connected by teleporter gates, tunnels, bridges, virtual reality or magic, whatever the architect in charge of that square mile felt like some morning. There were then subsections named Jade Palace, Taj-Mahal, Champs Elisées, some replicating a structure, historical (Piazza di Zardark, Westminster Abbey) or mythical (Mount Olympus, Solomon’s Temple), while others erected around a theme or concept, be it ‘Zen Garden’ or ‘Escherian Nightmare’.

These places, however, are all peripheral, and there probably aren’t enough VIPs in the entire Galaxy for an event big enough to even occupy any significant percentage of Wei Palace’s full capacity. The essential part of any ceremony tends to take place in the Solar Chamber, a subterranean room large enough to park a medium-size starship carrier in, and the closest sections (though close is hardly ever linear in that place, as a door in the Solar Chamber can lead directly to the Taj-Mahal, with a completely different weather waiting a few steps away. Queen Ellamina’s marriage would total one hundred thousand guests, and yet the whole event could likely go unnoticed to someone in the palace who happened to not be close to any of the buildings where the guests were. After all, to avoid the unpleasantness of spacecraft inside the planet’s atmosphere all vehicles had to be stopped and parked in one of the many orbital docks, from where the guests would be safely teleported to their quarters on the surface.

This whole clock is kept ticking by a machine infrastructure of epic proportions. Millions, if not billions, of robots and computers varying in size from nanite cleaners to mobile buildings are all connected to a vast artificial intelligence that exists, or is supposed to exist, to serve every convenience of its guests.

Its name is JEEVES.

CLICK

“Good evening, Mr. Syne.”

“Hello, Jeeves,” replied Jacob to the red camera eye. “Do you want my DAMOCLES ID?”

“That won’t be necessary. Sir’s chambers have been assigned and the teleport is online and programmed. Sir can expect a lovely vista at New Mount Fuji’s Zen spa.”

“Outstanding,” said Jacob, walking through a door all the way from orbit to somewhere in the surface of Wei. “Any news, Jeeves?” he continued, thousands of miles away.

“A summary of topics deemed of your interest is currently being displayed in sir’s chambers’ holovid, if sir will pardon the initiative.”

“Very good, very good,” mumbled the human, feeling suddenly very alone with the AI. He placed his briefcase on his bedroom’s desk and pulled out a folder numbered six. “Jeeves, I would very much like some privacy right now. Please override observations protocols. Verify my datalink for the Imperial Prosecutor’s authorization.”

“Will do, sir. Shifting surveillance clearance from Virtue/4E to Cherubic/7H. Done.”

Jacob sat and examined the last available piece of the Manus puzzle.

CLICK

“FUCKUP-II predicts an interrupted ceremony right after the vows are made permanent, Herr Baron.”

“Thank you, Jones. Did Maximille log in recently?”

“No, sir, Herr Baron.”

“That is most vexing. Can you beep Syne and Riley?”

“Yes, sir.” Pause. “The CEO’s databank acknowledges receiving the message, but Mr. Syne seems to be unavailable.”

“Most vexing...”

CLICK

“Cardinal. It is time.”

The middle-aged man stood up and looked at his reflection in front of him. Standing behind him, two of his most trustworthy aides – handpicked from the SMOM’s finest – were already dressed in their priest robes, and no-one could look and suspect they were carrying enough firepower to level a large city.

Cardinal Saint-Germain picked up his gun, felt its balance one more time, examined its sights, and holstered it within his diplomatic duty robe’s sleeve.

“God be with us,” he whispered.

CLICK

<ogfu> /ZOOM carbondata@JS23.23.23@WPS.GOV.GZ

<wpsj> ACCESS DENIED

<ogfu> /PRESENT KEYPASS

<wpsj> SERAPHIC/8X LEVEL CONFIRMED. ACCESS GRANTED

CLICK WHIRR

Unknown day, October, 1894. My hunt has been unsuccessful in a most tragic fashion. I would say my comrades are all dead right now, but I know better than being foolishly optimistic. A fate worse than death awaits those who would raise their hands against the Timestreamer’s cabal. I can even now hear the echoes of Michael’s cries for help, calling my fake name – Pierre, this decade – and I am horribly certain I noticed soemthing in his voice, a change, a hunger, - these last cries meant as bait and trap.

I mustn’t waste time remembering those who have fallen. I’ve lost more than one hundred friends this way and there is no point in insisting. I find them, I teach them, they distract Him, and I do my best to serve the Logos. Besides, there is such a lack of – integrity, of uncompromise-ness, of ORTHODOXY, that I feel tempted to say that these new generations can be mostly spent without being a major tragedy. They are to blame – excessive creation, excessive love of feeling and body, so of course they can’t be truly guarded against the Night of the Corruptor. The won’t pluck the offending eye, and the offending eye will make them part with beauty. But that is not what matters, what matters...

To be saints, not destroyers.

I am failed this century, but I must make a legacy to be remembered. And then, oblivion, until we meet again, me and her, when the stars fall from the sky...

Hopefully I’ll be carrying a gun.

CLICK

“I’m very happy about Vinny,” said Oscar. “It’s about time, too...”

“But it’s marriage! It’s bad by default!”

“The ship appears to have a strange perception of the sacred vows, Sir Angel,” said Assumpta, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a little strange in the head... hard drive... whatever...” whispered Oscar.

“Hey, I can hear that! Oh, by the way, we have arrived at this Wei place’s spacedock. Neat joint, you met some cool people, eh boss?”

“...I suppose you could say that,” said Oscar. “I’ll try to contact Vinny, can you check on our passenger, Sister?”

“Her vitals are stable,” J-Train interrupted, “but her memory is still a no-go. Hah! The AI here is hilarious! I’ve already managed to piss it off, and it still calls me sir!...”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Either Sylvia or whatever her name is recovers her memory before the ceremony, or we’ll have to get another invitation for her.” He looked around at the huge spacedock, where all guests who were too cool to teleport directly to the planet had parked their giant space-yachts. It was very, very busy. “And uhm maybe that won’t be too easy.”

CLICK

“I wish Jon were here,” Vinny sighed. “No luck finding him?”

Gauss shook his head. “All the Empire is looking for him, Vinny. Nike demanded results from the Triple Eye and they have used all their resources, and that is a lot. It’s as if he had just vanished.”

“I know your people are doing the best they can, but... damn, it’s my brother. My marriage. I need him here.”

Gauss placed his hand on Vinny’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The palace isn’t going anywhere, and Wyn would probably understand. Probably...”

“Yeah, and there is that. She’s been... strange... different. Not herself.”

Gauss scoffed. “Probably just the excitement. Humans are stupid. Especially Wendauerians.”

Vinny growled. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Arranged Marriage.”

“Oh, the best kind there is,” said Gauss, somewhat hollowly. “It worked out very well, didn’t it?”

“I suppose,” agreed Vinny, with a shrug. “Is Nickie well, by the way? Pirates can be nasty.”

“Dragonesses can be a lot nastier,” answered Gauss grinning. “But yeah, thanks for asking. They didn’t treat her too bad for a bunch of scoundrels.”

“Hey, I’m a scoundrel too, no aristocraty talk around me.”

“You’ll be King. That’s above Archduke. I’ll have to kneel before you and stuff.”

“Archwhat? Oh yes, no longer Emperor kind of thing. You people are crazy, I just want...” Vinny paused. “Well, I don’t know what I want for sure, but it involves Wyn and you guys happy and all this war thing over.”

“I’ll be negotiating with the Prinzip before the ceremony. Hopefully we’ll be able to announce the peace just after the ceremony. He’s a remarkably honorable man.”

“Bah, you people and honor… killing is alright, as long as the diplomatic formalities are properly enacted.”

“Uhm, yeah, that’s us. It’s fun.”

Vinny sighed. “Anyway, what about Miriam? Any news about her, at least?”

“GENS Punisher is after Valendil’s ship, but apparently the Jolly Jimbo has some kind of new stealth technology. No worries, though. If anyone can get him, it’s the admiral in charge. His family has been hunting that damned elf for generations.”

“If they’re so good at it, how come they never caught him?”

CLICK

Admiral Thornton Octavius Wallington XXIX stared deeply into the holomap before him and let his mind enter full 7D geometry. This was the moment he was raised to love. The thrill of hunting. The hope that he would be the Wallington to finally and for all capture and bring to justice Valendil, the Scourge of Hyperspace. Or even better, to have his heart around the Wallington family saber. Or to just blow his ship to kingdom come. Easier said than done, of course. Of the 28 men before him, only one had died of old age, shameful T. O. Wallington XIII. But the current generation was readier and better equipped than any before (and little XXX was doing very well in the Navy cadet academy).

He opened his eyes. “Warp to pathway foursevenzeroth. 5^12+4i knots. Full sideways elevation.”

And lo, a somewhat battered spaceship carrier was suddenly in front of his, and another battle began.

CLICK

669 passed his hand over his hair and was satisfied, and then placed it on his tie, making sure it was fixed to perfection. He stepped into the ballroom.

“Good evening, James!”

“Mme. Ambassadrix.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “Now that your nation has found prosperity in the Greater Gamezohan Commonwealth, I lament to inform you that my name is not actually James.”

“Oh, so mysterious. What is your name then, Mr. Secret Agent?”

“Baron Etwas von Hiffen, House Rockthriller, at your service.”

“Oh, but I’ve met Baron Rockthriller already…”

“Milady has met the Baron. I am merely a baron. Baron von Hiffen. Minor branch of the family.”

“Tell me, baron, is it customary in Gamezoha to wear sunglasses indoors?”

“Oh, I apologize, milady, but I’m afraid a ghost has pulled my eyes out.”

Etwas’ old acquaintance laughed.

“You know, in fact, I’m not joking. Can you take me to a chair directly in front of the altar, please?”

CLICK

“Verdammte Quantumspringerei…”

“I beg you pardon?”

“I said, the offer doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“It doesn’t, hmm. Well, are you buying the robot?”

“I think robot is hardly the applicable word…”

“I’m a busy elf, Herr Prosecutor. I need an answer and need it now.”

CLICK

“I see… sands… engulfing a wolf…”

“This woman is delirious,” said Assumpta.

“Well, at least we got her in,” said Oscar. “Besides, we’ve checked it, she’s not physically ill. It’s just as if most of her mind has been… erased…”

Assumpta seemed to shiver.

“Are you alright, Assumpta?”

“Yes. Well… she makes me somewhat uncomfortable. The unnatural green hair…”

The ambient music faded. The ceremony was beginning.

CLICK

“Nevin, please stop crying, people are noticing.”

“I can’t help myself! It’s a wedding!”

“But it’s blood. People don’t usually weep blood!”

“You’re making me hungry,” said Kara.

“We’ll soon drink, darling. We’ll soon feast.”

CLICK

“See that, Riley? It’s all political, ultimately. The throne to the left of the altar is Uziel’s. Look at his face, inscrutable. My sources say, however, that Wernher Gauss did ok in the negotiations and peace will soon be announced.”

“Unless someone interrupts it.”

“Exactly! It will happen. Too many factions are profiting from this war. DAMOCLES, the Mi-Go, Moebius, Lucifuge corporation…”

“…the Banker’s federation, the Rockthriller colonial marine mercenary security force…”

“Yes, indeed. Thankfully we are both very nice men who just want to balance the flow of fluids in the universe, right?”

“…right.”

“Right. So, to the right, Nike’s throne.”

“All hail the Empress.”

“Yes. You know what FUCKUP-II predicted about her, right?”

“Yes. Worse than peace between Dewnes and Gamezohans.”

“So they might want to kill her.”

“Who, though? Have you seen her escort?”

Both AZTECHs looked at the masked men in long white robes. They carried no visible weapon. They didn’t have to.

“Auroran,” said the Baron.

“Full-rank Strategi. Four of them. All there are in the whole Galaxy.”

“Not to mention her own abilities.”

“Pink-Lotus trained, wasn’t it? And with her brother and her sister-in-law, yourself and the other House leaders, and even Uziel himself, there are eight Great Dragons in this room. The Archduke has his own escort and it’s equally impressive – the four Streamers. Plus Omnibus, other security personnel, Jeeves’ automated security systems and whoever else is feeling heroic today, I don’t know how anyone could pull this one out.”

“Suicide assassination would be my guess, but even then the assassin would have to beat the Operators’ legendary reflexes AND the Streamers’ precog to fire his weapon before being taken out.”

“So, Baron. If you were to ruin this ceremony, what would you do? Is there anyone who could do it?”

“Only a handful in the known universe. The Grammaton Novas and the other Elites can be ignored because they are all fanatically loyal to the Empire. Maybe some very powerful Mi-Go, and only God knows how good the best SURTR special forces are. Valendil, if he had the help of more true elves – more than there are known to be alive presently, seelie and unseelie.”

“Maybe that cousin of yours?”

“Etwas? He’s the best Singularity Eraser in history, but like I said, the Elites wouldn’t move against the Empire. But I suppose he could do it.”

“Well, who else?”

“One of the Tres, of course, but the Green-Haired Witch is in none of our predictions and she probably wants peace, though you can never know for sure the gosling’s agenda. Moebius wouldn’t risk showing up in person – hopefully. The Fuzzy Pope would—holy shit.”

“What?”

“Saint-Germain. He’s a member of P2. If there’s one who is certainly of the Manus, he’s the guy.”

“Could he do it?”

“If what Syne told us is true, then yes, certainly - he could do it.”

CLICK

The SURTR Royal Escort Detachment marched in an awkwardly unrehearsed manner, drawing some smiles from the guests who had been to dozens of similar ceremonies. David Samsa stood at the steps of the somewhat excessively large altar a few yards to the left of Vinny, who looked extremely embarrassed at being in front of all this people – he was trying to avoid thinking about the marriage itself. He played with the ring in his pocket (they were following the Zardarkian-reformed-plus-Hungardian ceremonial, which meant no ring bearers), trying to distract himself from the cardinal’s moralistic yapping by looking at the faces reflected in the huge silver cross towering behind the cleric and counting how many were as bored as he would be in their position.

He could see Oscar and Assumpta, and recalled they had to take seats a little further back than originally planned because they had brought a wounded person they found on the way back, or something like that. Somewhere near them, he recognized the president of that big corporation with outdoors all over Citru. Closer, he could see Nicolette, and right in the closest chair, weeping and likely drunk, his father.

He swallowed hard. The incense was making his nose itch. And stupid music started playing, which meant…

CLICK

“Oh, look at that dress! It’s fantastic!”

“I can’t see. I have no eyes.”

“Oh. Uh. It’s fantastic, though.”

“I’m sure it would look better on you, Mme.”

“OH, DEFINITELY. You remain a gentleman, Etwas, if that’s your real name. How did that happen anyway? Some kind of disease?”

“Why you ask?”

“Well, at least two people in the band look like they’ve had it too…”

669 grabbed her arm with much sex-appeal. “Describe them to me.”

“Uhm. The band? A big black man and his quite attractive daughter are the ones with the sunglasses and, I think I caught a glimpse, no eyes. Then there’s a sad-looking guy who looks totally gay and this crazy-looking pale guy sobbing loudly. He’s crying blood, probably going to lose his eyes too.”

Etwas released her arm and smiled. “Just like she said.”

“You’re strange, baron.”

“Famous for it,” he said, widening his smile. “Now assume I winked.”

“Oh, I will, you devil. Hmm, you should get yourself a suit like the Archduke’s. Absolutely delightful…”

CLICK

“Assumpta? You look… concentrated.”

“Aye? Oh, I was just paying attention to what Cardinal Saint-Germain was saying. T’was a beautiful defense of the importance of the marriage vows and orthodoxy in general. He is famous, you know, a very upright man, Knight of Malta.”

“Knight?” Oscar looked doubtful. Then again, this cardinal looked younger than most priests he had met. “How old is he?”

Assumpta frowned. “Strange. I quite recall he was already a cardinal at the time of my first communion. Perhaps he’s of one of those long-lived alien races? The love of our Lord is, after all, for every breathing creature. Except the wicked,” she added as an afterthought.

Oscar shrugged. He was somewhat upset because Vinny wasn’t looking too happy. The whole thing felt too pompous and more than once he felt dislocated among all the aristocrats and millionaires. Jeeves had provided some pretty neat clothes for them, and there were so many alien representatives that his exposed wings barely stood out, but somehow they seemed to instinctively know him for the amount in his bank account. Which he hadn’t.

“The air is loaded with pride and greed,” said Assumpta, as if reading his mind. “I’m glad the cardinal is here. His assistants also look very beatific.”

Beatific, Oscar thought, now that’s a word that would never have occurred to me referring to them. They look like soldiers. A little like Jon…

He looked at Sylvia. Her eyes were hollow, but she appeared to be looking in the direction of the altar, so she probably was at least to some degree aware of the ceremony…

CLICK

Aris was trying to look dignified and keep a stupid face as he followed Windsong, one would imagine to protect her. Between SURTR, Wendaurian guards and Gauss’s own bodyguards, however, he felt rather useless and started scanning the audience for his targets. Well, there they were, two of them, at least. Oh, a third was trying to be sneaky behind a column, so maybe this assignment made some sense after all…

CLICK

“Ah, my sweet Salyra, you look beautiful wearing another woman’s face.”

“Well, duh. Remind me to whip you for your impertinence tonight, pet.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“After, that is, we kill everyone and recapture my two pets.”

“I’m jealous.”

“I need them. You can be happy, you’re the only pet I keep just for fun.”

“Yay,” said the vampire-dragon Count Vasdhra Sphexoren.

CLICK

Max felt the cold marble. It was pleasant. His heartbeat was slower a hundredfold as he gripped the xaser pistol. He felt the tingly sensation of his aura countering the Operators’ precog. One shot, one kill, and no-one could see it coming. Just like with the other Prinzip. Ewige Blumenkraft.

CLICK

Sylvia lowered her head and her lips started moving.

“Are you alright?” asked Oscar, leaning to hear what she was saying.

“…kill… the target…”

A green light formed around her hands.

CLICK

Emmanuel stared at Vinny sadly. Well, if the plan worked like Klot said it would, Vinny’s unwanted fiancée would be out of the way, permanently. It was all for his good, of course. He couldn’t really like her. Or those bastard silver dragons, that disgusting Nike and her scary, threatening brother. He could sense in the crowd a cunning red, a dead blue and an indigo stinking of silver, and that just showed how unfair it was, the genocide of his breed. Anyway. There would be justice tonight, and Vinny would thank him.

He prepared to shift.

CLICK

Strategus Johnson looked at his fellow Aurorans. They nodded. Something bad was going to happen. Some things. So many, in fact, their precognition was getting blurred. They would only have a few milliseconds before it happened. It would probably be enough, but just to be safe, they all placed their hands on their xaser pistols and removed the safeties.

CLICK

Aris looked at Samsa around the legs of Vinny and Windsong. David acknowledged by glancing at the two sitting men. Aris nodded and rehearsed in his mind shooting the man behind the column when he moved. He felt the solid, reassuring gun. This couldn’t be too hard…

CLICK

669 smiled. People had to die. This would be an easy one…

CLICK

Saint-Germain couldn’t even hear his own words. “I now pronounce you…”

From the sleeve of his right arm, extended in a blessing, a pistol was placed in his hand and he squeezed the trigger before this surprise had made the way from anyone’s eyes to their brains.

CLICK

End of Quarter Three

~*~

Second Quarter: Deep Sky Incarnadine

Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen

Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan,

Laufet Brüder, eure Bahn

Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen…

-von Schiller, later modified for Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Fourth Movement

I am on board GENS Nova, the flagship of the Third Fleet, together with the Empress’s entourage and personal guard. It’s the most advanced ship in the Galaxy, at least until the next series of phase dreadnought stealth carriers arrives from the Ticine docks around planet Ryjun. We are sailing towards Megiddo, allegedly to complete the formalities of peace.

I am practicing my time katas when I sense the proximity of one of my comrades. I do not need to acknowledge his presence, of course. He expects no less of me than to continue my practice while listening to him.

“The Empress wants to stop at Halak before reaching Megiddo. Her sister-in-law requires assistance, and we’ll use the opportunity to quell the Halakian insurgency. We might try to catch Valendil, though that has only a fraction of a chance of succeeding.”

I nod to him. Matching battle prowess with a True Fae is something I look forward to.

“They have teleportation jammers, so we’ll have to go down by dropship. You have twenty-eight minutes.”

I nod again and he leaves. My hand lashes forward. Left, right, left up, block, right down, right back, left back, block, right up, left, block, left, right elbow, right and left, left down, right, and block.

That was very fine for a series of attacks occurring simultaneously while I held time. I am satisfied. I salute my imaginary and now dead opponent and leave to ready myself for the mission.

The Empress is coming with us, which is fine. While a war rages in the space above us between the pirates and our pilots we slip undetected down to Halak Palace.

“No, don’t land on the courtyard. The security is tighter there. There’s a garden behind the palace.”

I am reminded of the Empress’s qualifications. It’s very easy to underestimate her. She does it on purpose, of course.

“Last time I invaded this place, the security was vulnerable here… and here…” delicate fingers touch the holographic map in two entrance points. “So I want your men to enter from the lower levels to secure the hostage while I take care of the fairies.”

We nod in unison. She yawns.

I disobey, of course. My team doesn’t need me so I am to watch the Empress and make sure she doesn’t run into trouble. We wouldn’t consider the possibility, but with unseelie around you can never be sure.

She kills the Halakian guards outside mercilessly and licks their blood off her sword. Well, we’ve had madder rulers. A patrol of pirates meets a similar end. No stain whatsoever in her clothes. I know that trick. And then we meet Valendil.

“Nike.”

“Fairy.”

“I missed you.”

“I’ve had better since then.”

“You’re naughty.”

“That’s what they say.”

“How’s your brother?”

“Fine. Oh, you mean, happiness. You have something of his.”

“You can take her. My words have been sown. She’ll be mine.”

“You’re mean.”

“That’s what they say.”

“Are we going to be witty all day or can I kill you already?”

“Sorry, babe, but I have better things to do than fight you and entertain myself with your body. You see, I have some very precious merchandise in my ship and you can imagine what would happen if I died.”

Nike raised an eyebrow and only my zen training could maintain my loins unstirred.

“You’ve taken Nicolette to your ship?”

“Nah, business, not pleasure. Tell you what, take a look,” said Valendil, flipping his hand and creating in the air the image of a girl.

“Miriam! How did you…”

“The stone is what I would require the most right now, so I guess my nephew will have to fight alone today.”

“You bastard. I will kill you, soon.”

“Nike Gauss will Kill Valendil. Beautiful. Now, I leave. By the way, your ass is looking great,” he said with a grin, vanishing. I hate magic.

No retort. She must be very upset.

The second encounter almost catches me by surprise. I notice the newcomer isn’t really trying to conceal herself and could have done a better job. Knowing that is upsetting, but at least reduces significantly the spectrum of what kind of training she had.

“Takako,” Nike mutters, darkly.

I have no idea who that is.

“Well, well, well. ‘Imperatrix’. Did you really think the clan had forgotten your betrayal?”

Nike lowers her head. She almost looks ashamed. “The Pink Lotus is an unforgiving mistress.”

“So am I. I haven’t forgotten my favorite pupil.”

“What now? Are you going to kill me?”

The newcomer laughs. I’m still trying to identify her allegiance. There is no ‘pink lotus’ in any intelligence report, anywhere, ever.

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily. You know the penalty for treason. Soon, I’ll capture you. Make you insane. Release you. You’ll do some regrettable things. Then we make you sane again so you have to live with the result of your actions. Should you ever begin to feel any dim form of happiness, we’ll do it again. You’ll have to live in fear and regret forever.”

Nike clenches her fists. I’m expecting her to attack at any time, when I realize she’s in a completely defensive, almost frightened stance.

Theoretically, I’d have to call for back-up. This Takako must be a powerful lady.

“And now, I leave. You still have a choice, though. You can return to me.”

“Mistress…”

“Don’t puppy-dog-eye me. It’s not that simple. If you do want to avoid a fate worse than death, you must surrender your freedom to me. Oh, and bring me your brother’s head. A small token of devotion…”

Well, well, well, my post-action report is growing more and more interesting by the minute.

She won’t be needing my help, so I take a detour. I arrive at the dungeon a few minutes before the Empress herself is bound to arrive.

“Perfect timing,” says Guildenstern.

“As usual,” completes Rosencrantz.

“Teamwork,” I say, with modesty.

I look at their belts. There’s a lot less ammunition now.

“Resistance was,”

“Sub-par,”

“But rather great,”

“In numbers,” they explain.

I nod, and point to a prisoner. “The Baron?”

“Confirmed identity,”

“Pyrite Halak.”

“The Archduchess?”

“I’m fine, Strategus,” says a regal voice behind me.

I’m somewhat startled, being unused to things outside my precog. Stupid dragons. I turn and bow. “Your Imperial Highness. The Empress should arrive at any moment.”

“So I should.”

I cringe and feel foolish. Stupid, stupid dragons.

“Oh, it’s you,” says the Archduchess. “I was expecting Wernher.”

“Ah, you know how it is when he’s around that furry friend of his, he doesn’t really think of anything else. Well, that and he’s trying to stop the war,” Nike adds as an afterthought. She examines her sister-in-law. “That randy fairy treated you well enough, I can see. Well, he has style.”

“That poncy bandit? Hah, I have golden carps with more style in my aquarium.”

“They’re imperial carps. They have psychic powers and stuff. It’s not a fair comparison.”

Nicolette shrugs. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Everything for the family,” says Nike, surprise-divehugging the Archduchess in a most embarrassing manner. I flinch. Bah, dragons.

I’m getting bored. “Empress, this is indeed a moment for celebration, but I predict a large number of enemy reinforcements converging on our position. My team has destroyed the teleportation jammers, so I don’t think it would be too inconvenient if you waited to continue this on board the Nova.”

“Ah, Johnson, where would I be without you guys. Well… probably all over Nicki… but that’s not the point…”

It’s an embarrassing job.

“There is,”

“Of course,”

“The matter of the second prisoner,”

“The SURTrite.”

I nod to Guildenstern and Rosencrantz. “Is he dangerous?”

“Not visibly,”

“As far as we can see.”

“Any news on the Archduke’s paladin friend?”

“That’s a,”

“Negative.”

“The SURTrite is still stunned.”

“We couldn’t get anything useful from him.”

I sigh. “Well, beam him up. With us around, he can’t really be dangerous.”

Hours later, we’re close enough to Megiddo and its blockade to require the enactment of the most advanced defensive protocols. The Fleet personnel are happy. They are, obviously, quite insane and their opinions dying-wise should be ignored.

5D strategic warfare is not my forte, but as a Strategus I have a quite good estimate of the outcome of this. Massive losses in materiel and lives for both sides, and oh, right, the complete annihilation of planet Megiddo.

It turns out my estimates are shared by the Empire’s top strategists and, of course, the OCON-G mainframe, quaintly named FUCK-UP II. Everyone is pleased to learn Archduke Gauss has negotiated a cease fire and the orderly falling back of the Rieux and its escorts.

I don’t need my advanced intelligence algorithms to tell me SURTR is pissed.

They strike at two a.m.. This is shameful to report.

Gunther walks into the Empress’s chambers, and only now the secret mind control implant seeded months ago is identifiable. SURTR’s biotech is frighteningly in advance of ours.

I drop down in front of him and land a solid blow on his chest. He is pushed back denting the composite steel wall.

He raises his arm and a series of vines lash out at me. I phase out of the way, aware that it would strike the Empress but fully expecting to neutralize his neural network with my next attack. And then I’m ambushed in Wet Time.

Consulary agent Katje, status undead, has put four swords through my body, and even minor damage like this can overwhelm my carbon body and require all my mentative skills to maintain Wet Time focus. I see the Empress jumping out of bed and slicing the vines, but Gunther is firing seeds from a suspicious-looking bamboo-like growth in his shoulder, and these open in midair to reveal a varied assortment of fungal structures related to hurting people badly.

I mentally summon the other Aurorans, pitifully aware that a) they won’t arrive in time and b) I shouldn’t have trusted my precog enough to guard the place alone. Of course, I couldn’t have expected a consulary rogue to interfere, but I should’ve.

I’m spat out of Wet Time and my opponent follows me. As I predicted and couldn’t avert, the sight of Katje causes the Empress’s defenses to lower at a crucial time, and she is thrown back and placed at the mercy of her assassins.

And then I experience my “deer God I really hate dragons” moment of the night.

As a Gamezohan, I’m expected to love redundant bureaucracy. So I do.

At times, however, I think we overdo it.

“Ok, now a question from debriefer #512, House Aberdash Military Intelligence.”

“Yes, sir.”

“After Viktor Uziel, Prinzip and ruler of Dewnhëem, our enemies, warped into the Imperatrix’s chambers – something that should be impossible according to our Lucifuge teleportation jammer contractors -…”

The Lucifuge debriefer raises every sort of objection.

“Anyway, after that, what exactly happened?”

“Well, sir, as I explained to the nineteen III boards, House Rockthriller Colonial Security representative, Orthomentat board of evaluation, A¨A¨ Auroran Admin, --” Thankfully I’m interrupted by the Fleet Homeland Office Disinformation Systems Analysis Agency, Section 4, representative before I’m forced to spend the next thirty minutes listing the people I had been debriefed by, again.

“--, yes, hmm, he darted his hand in the Kreptlokin pincer,” sound of infocoms opening the VBD’s entry, “and removed the parasite from the SURTRite, who immediately collapsed unconscious.”

“He will live, according to the latest Very Big Dictionary entry for Gunther,” added Senior Analist Hlaugla from Planet Spigot-X Gamezohan Administration Counter-Insurgency.

“Yes, I’m glad. After that, although in Dry Time it was simultaneously, he used a personal variant, or perhaps modded version, of Sprite Defrag Interlock. Consulary agent Katje…”

“A zombie?!” exclaimed a GSMC general who had probably arrived late.

“Meeting 68% of the characterization-as-such requirements, yes. She, or it, used D-Fence version IX,” I hear the distinct beeping as the classified information is being erased from the uncleared debriefers’ brains, “a Throne-6G maneuver that…”

“You can spare us the details, Operator,” says the Minister of Reasonable Brutality’s Chief Director of Operation’s Fourth Deputy Marshal.

“Yes, sir. She escaped, but the attack ceased.”

“And the Empress?”

“She was terrified.”

Some people laughed. Admiral-Praetor-Executor Ryota Duv of the Silver Wing wasn’t entertained. “You’re quite aware of the penalty for lying in an Imperial Debriefing Procedure, aren’t you?”

“Sir. Yes, sir. She was terrified and the Prinzip wasn’t threatening, although he did ward himself against my offensive initiatives preemptively, and there isn’t much I can do against dragons in those circumstances.”

“Then what?”

“They chatted. The Empress quickly returned to her embarrassing self. The Prinzip didn’t seem to notice. Eventually he left.”

Murmur, but I’m not reprimanded. The military, if all these groups can be united in a single category, mostly opposes the Empress. Thank Gauss for dynastic stability.

“Operator, please remain available for further questioning. You are temporarily dismissed.”

It takes me some Dry Time to associate the voice to the person. Eightfold-Chrysanthemum-Generalissimus of the Silver Berets Aristotle Gàrakz.

Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are waiting for me after I take the gate back to the Nova.

“We’re glad all went well,”

“Relatively speaking.”

I nod. “I hope you’re not upset we got an extended Imperial Escort assignment as punishment, that is, ‘opportunity for redemption’.”

“Not at all,”

“It’s a pleasure.”

I’m once again impressed. These retrogineered twins have unexpected reactions. Well, that is their purpose.

We stare blankly for a few seconds during the next data dump.

“So the SURTRite was accepted in the order of the Blitz Knights.”

“Most amusing,”

“A psycho among psychos.”

“He’ll feel right at his SURTR home, I suppose. Though the Blitz are slightly crazier.”

“Well, his deadliness level,”

“Will be increased by a tenfold.”

“Yes, most… unadvisable… then again, that’s probably the point of the experiment. Pit Blitz Knight conditioning against the lasting effects of the Mi-Go biotech.”

“Ten bucks on the Mi-Go,”

“And make it twenty.”

“Empress.”

“Ah, Johnson. I hear you’ll be my escort this week, as well.”

“Afraid so, your Imperial Majesty.”

She laughs. She’s gone a few notches up the scale after the Uziel incident. I wonder how much she knows.

“Well then, you’d better get a pretty uniform. Marriage! Can you believe it?”

It takes some Wet Time mentation to understand it’s not her marriage. For a minute there, nothing made sense.

“Ah, Queen Ellamina.”

“And Wild Thing, yes. I’m letting them have Wei Palace for the ceremony. It’s a pretty place.”

“This is to celebrate the… ‘peace’?”

She laughs. “Yes, stupid, isn’t it? I’m all against it.”

“Please don’t elaborate, your Imperial Majesty.”

Post script to mental log.

I had a funny dream. Behind a bar in a backwater planet on the way to Earth, a winged man and a nun have just found a collapsed green-haired woman whose memories have been erased.

I think I know what this means. God DAMN that Moebius.

End of Quarter Two

~*~

First Quarter: Kybernetes Psychonaut Noir

She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors

On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy

Working overtime

A soap impression of his wife which he ate

And donated to the National Trust

-The Beatles, Happiness is a Warm Gun

Gauss grimaced. “You don’t understand. Valendil and Pyrite are pure breed elves, together the two could beat almost any single unprepared dragon.”

“Well then, what’s wrong with today’s drakes? Back in my day I would level a few systems to rescue my beloved,” said Wilhelm, having just entered the room.

“Er, she ran away of her own- OW. Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of my friends… let go of my ear, damnit, I am the Emperor now!…”

“No, no, Nike is Imperatrix now, you’re Hallowed Archduke of something something… stupid monarchic system, who invented these names anyway?”

“Grampa did, I think.”

“Oh, so he did.”

Wilhelm dropped his son. He glared at Vinny, who was rolling on the floor laughing.

“Hey, Jake, your son is laughing at my healthy administration of fatherly justice.”

“I guess I’ll have to spank him, I suppose,” said Jake, rolling up his sleeves. Vinny immediately scrambled to his feet and coughed an apology.

“And that is why intelligent peoples have presidents instead of emperors and kings,” concluded Gunther.

“Shut up,” replied both Gausses in unison.

“Yeah, shut up, I’m da King and I’m ok with the idea,” said Vinny. “But seriously, where were we?”

“You were being an ignorant peasant and I was enlightening you regarding the gravity of the situation.”

“Oh, yes, you were saying you were going back to Halak for her.”

Gauss hesitated. “Well, there’s a problem…”

“The boy?”

“I’m afraid next time we meet, I’ll have to kill him.”

“You very well should,” groaned Gunther. “He put me in a cell with a fucking fish!”

“Ah, the love behind bars,” said Jake ironically. He was examining the drink machine for something alcoholic. Everyone chuckled, except Vinny, who had too many bad memories involving horny fish.

“I must say I captured his heart,” said Gunther, pulling an awful-smelling thing that made a wet sound as he placed it on a nearby table.

“Oh, that is disgusting,” said Gauss, rolling his eyes.

“You tell me.”

Vinny coughed. “Right, so, what’s the problem? I’m sure Miriam wouldn’t mind going back to get Nicolette.”

Gauss shook his head. “Negative on that. They’ve got teleportation jammers now, from the Jolly Jimbo. We’d have to fly there.”

Jon raised his head. “I shall go. I was saved and now must deserve that grace.”

“Dude, you don’t have to prove anything. I like owe my life to you already.”

“Yes, me too, Jon. I was thinking…”

Jon shook his head and interrupted Gauss. “I appreciate it, friends, but this is something I must do for myself. Besides, Miriam is going, isn’t she?”

Gauss hesitated. “Yes, actually,” he said eventually, “that was part of my plan. You could deactivate the jammers and that would make getting out a lot easier.”

“So there you have it,” concluded Jon.

“Hey! I want to go back too!”

Gauss cringed and turned to Gunther. “Why, pray tell?”

“Oh, payback. That simple. And I’m going anyway, so you’d better let me go with the others so I don’t mess up your plan.”

Wilhelm laughed. “Well, then. You won’t have to go after all, boy. That’s how I made the Empire great, delegating power and avoiding responsibility.”

Gauss snorted, but nodded. “Alright then, I’ll procure a ship…”

Syne shivered in the rain of Thespia-Gamma-T.

“You. So it is true.”

“It was decades ago.”

“You never did take the files to the Church.”

“I feared the Manus Celer Dei.”

“Who doesn’t.”

Gàrakz chuckled darkly. “I had almost forgotten the meaning of that.”

“Swift hand of God indeed.”

“Anyway, I’m a busy man. AZTECH is Jibrahil’s last ally and I plan to bury my former life after this. Definitively.”

“I trust you dream, Aristotle.”

“About the Abbots, yes.”

“Have you heard of the UGP?”

“The Cybercracy being tested on Earth?”

“And some other planets, yes. The abbots were a parachronic manifestation of its computer mind. DAMOCLES.”

The old man nodded. “Figured it would turn out to be something like that.”

“The files… what’s in them?”

“I never quite got it. Apparently they got written by several different men in different times, member of the Manus, hunting all enemies of the Logos.”

“Hmm. Stellar ashtra?”

“Maybe it’s time we admit our mystic typologies are outdated approximations.”

“Agreed. So the Manus is the Fuzzy Pope’s people?”

“Yes. It’s one cunning lobster.”

“Who hates the Rocket as much as we do. Thank you, Generalissimus. This may complete the puzzle…”

“You should know better than that.”

Last entry, 1945. I’m under the surface of the desert. Miles below. In the buried City Gob, where the learned Akhaldan found the key to the Artifact-Makers’ science, and the most learned among them, one called Moebius…

Miles above, Tchitcherine sees the Kirghiz Light and I’m still buried here. Looking for an explanation. Ah, my friend, you died and I live. All these years, decades, eternity.

In simple terms, in terms that allow me to retain my sanity and God-love, it’s all about whom I have to kill.

The Archfiend.

His daughter, the demon Takako.

His Rocket.

I knew from day one, and day one was so long ago, and all the good it made for me was that I am now buried in the lost City Gob. ‘Round the decay/Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare/The lone and level sands stretch far away’…

Under the Kirghiz Light.

Sic itur ad tenebras.

Loud sirens interrupted Vinny’s sleep. He fell out of bed, muttered a stream of curses and stood up, looking for something to claw. Gauss entered his room and was greeted with a paw slamming against his chest.

“Oof. Hey, wake up. We have an emergency.”

Growly rumbly.

“Dewnhëem bypassed out patrols. Blockade Ship Rieux has reached Megiddo and isolated it with a force field.”

Growly snarly.

“Megiddo, you know, where Windsong is.”

Growly… “WYN?!”

“Yes. Why, Vinny, calm down. And, uhm, let go. They don’t seem to be attacking the planet. I was about to leave in a diplomatic mission to negotiate the liberation of the planet.”

Vinny blinked slowly.

“Tell you what, you’re coming with me. When they see your stupid face, they’ll assume we’re all idiots who never have any idea about what’s going on… ow. Ow. Ok, let’s go. …After you put on your pants, I mean…”

“Er, sorry about earlier. I haven’t been getting enough sleep…”

“Oh, it was three in the morning. Perfectly normal.”

“You weren’t asleep?”

No answer.

“Worrying about Nicolette?”

Gauss hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Among other things…”

“Other things, huh? Do they have elf ears?”

“Well… in a way. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come to terms with her death. But there have been… reports…”

“Oh, I hate that word. Gamezohans seem to use it a lot.”

“A robot seems to appear out of nowhere and cause random destruction in major Gamezohan military facilities. The media is calling it… Tinfoil Lady.”

Vinny raised an eyebrow. “And this is related to Krystal how?…”

“I have no idea. I just know it is, somehow.”

A Dewne guard entered the waiting room. “Admiral Klippinx will see you now.”

Syne nodded to himself. “The key, huh. So Belcultassi’s Akhaldan did learn parachronic streaming, and this means… this means Moebius not only has Time on his side, but Probability… this might explain… the Abbots… the strike at the wedding FUCKUP foresees… … I predict a headache.”

He read another of the files.

March 30th, 2004. I have the list of the Four Riders. I shall be there to die. I shall trigger the assault by trying to kill the King – goddamn the witch and her lord, the gosling – and I won’t be successful. A necessary pawn for the Archfiend Moebius. He’ll interrupt, the Four Riders. Hah, the irony. From probability hearasay in paradox lust. In his timestreaming chamber I find the most unlikely trophies. A stuffed arcturian wolfbear. A painting named “The ghosts of Yasujiro Ozu and Basil Liddel Hart appear to Joyce and Plucky Duck”. A broken kwan do. Ten times ten one million times universes, and Moebius is the Lord of them all. Except this one, for this one is God’s.

Wolfram. Nava. Casimir. Kirsi. I wish these names meant anything.

This ends here. I’ll hide among the Knights and await. Centuries, if need be…

“Several people?” thought Syne. “Saint-Germain…”

“Archduke Gauss. Hrm. ‘King’ Omnibus. I’m Neil Klippinx.”

“Greetings, Admiral.”

“Let’s make this swift. We know the Third Fleet will be here soon. This action was meant to show no world in the Empire is safe and that peace is most advisable.”

“Why don’t you offer a cease fire, then?”

“Prinzip Uziel has said it many times, Archduke. The fungi and the time-streamer and the Computer are our true enemies.”

“So this war… you have no interest in it?”

“Oh, if you knew how wise the Prinzip is, you’d be impressed. Have you forgotten it was you who declared war in the first place?”

Gauss went pale. “I was… ill-advised, to say the least.”

Klippinx smiled. “Uziel knows. We’ll just hold you prisoner until the time is ripe for peace. You, after all, are no longer the Emperor.”

“Captain! The three have arrived!”

“Outstanding. The fools don’t know of our spy.”

“Should our men warp into action?”

“Yes. Temporal stasis guns, we want prisoners. Money. Power. Wallington off our goddamn backs for a while…”

Jon barely had time to gasp when the pirate materialized in front of him and fired his strange-looking gun.

And then something went wrong.

He saw Miriam and Gunther freezing, but he appeared to be shot out of existence. He moved through the landscape as his friends were taken prisoner, drawn inexorably towards a vortex…

End of Quarter One

~*~

The Non-Quarter: .BR Temple of Sol

We know of an ancient radiation

That haunts dismembered constellations,

A faintly glimmering radio station.

While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,

The flies and spiders get along together,

Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.

-Cake, Frank Sinatra

Jon blinks. This monastery is definitely not Christian. In fact, he can’t quite figure if he’s ever seen its symbols anywhere. Comparative Theology wasn’t ever his favorite subject…

A little man looking like the Dalai Lama appears at the gates. He beckons.

“Saint Jon. We have been expecting you.”

Jon examines the monk. “Who are you? What is this place? Why am I here?”

The monk laughs. “So many questions! All of them with the verb to be! Well, I can answer the first one easily. They call me the Archangel Viloyer.”

Jon looks doubtful. “Archangel?”

“As to what this place ‘is’, you could think of it as somewhere out of time. A Xanadu.”

Jon looks around. “Heaven?”

“Not quite, not quite. Come, my fellows assigned me to prepare you to meet T3h Buddha.”

“The Buddha? Who? What? Why?”

The monk laughs again. “You see, the instrument of your being brought here can be understood as the temporal stasis guns used against you, which reacted in a most complex manner with your parachronic field, altered by your recent time-traveling antics. But we prefer to see it as foreordained.”

“Who, then, are you?”

“We ‘are’ true initiates to T3h Buddha’s mysteries, that is, we prefer to see ourselves under that perspective most of the time. We hope to ever be allowed into the Vault wherein the Buddha resides, a privilege not granted to anyone ever since the Temple of Sol was built, not even to the Most Great Archangel Sakaki, our brave defender, not even to the Most-Great-Arch-Seraph Sevohtartra, our spiritual leader. Even the one responsible for creating the vault itself, His All-Quarters-Maintainer Helkgematios, admits not having entered his creation.”

“But… there is nothing outside. I imagine you don’t age? Where do you come from? How do I leave?”

“I’ll start with the last question. We have, after careful meditation, deliberated that your release shall follow your meeting T3h Buddha. Please don’t understand this as imprisonment, for we do not possess the power to imprison you, nor to free you. Our deliberation does not possess the traits of a decision, but derives as a conclusion from our experience. T3h Buddha alone can take you back into the arena of the merciless Heropass, which you call time.”

Jon frowns. “…what is T3h Buddha?”

“Impact.”

He grimaces. “Impact?”

“Get used to this way of thinking, Most Beateous Saint Jon. We make it the standard process of crystalizing the illumination into your flow. As to the other question… we recall existing as the Dht’n’k’lz in the universe you think as yours. Only nine of us still exist, alas, at least in the vulgar conception of the word.”

“The… you made the Most Powerful Objects?…”

The monk grins. “I recall making the fourteenth. I found it a fine job, with a good future preordained to it. Miriam. Yes, I know about her. There exists validity in seeing me as her father.”

“Miriam! She was captured!” Jon instinctively turned to leave. The monk held his arm softly.

“Do not fret. We exist out of time here. There is no lateness.”

Jon looks at the wrinkled hand holding him and sighs. “What do you want with me?”

“When the project of you we designed is ultimately actualized by the emanations of T3h Buddha’s respect, the wisest beings of the multiverse shall recognize you and call you master. All the chaos and doubt you shall clear with the light of your blossoming satori. We learned our lesson, Saint Jon. We no longer seek to make the Most Powerful Object. We seek to deliver the multiverse we may have doomed the Most Wise Man.”

For ten years Saint Jon was educated by the Dht’n’k’lz survivors.

In the first year, the Archangel Viloyer taught him of all things Before.

In the second year, the Archcherub Peshtvogner taught him of all things After.

In the third year, the Most-Great-Arch-Seraph Sevohtartra taught him of all things Above.

In the fourth year, His Self-Keepness the Archseraph Ksheltarna taught him of all things Below.

Saint Jon despaired in dread for the entirety of the fifth year.

In the sixth year, the Archangel Herkission taught him of all things Solar.

In the seventh year, His Measurability Archangel Algamatant taught him of all things Lunar.

In the eighth year, His All-Quarters-Maintainer the Great Arch Cherub Helkgematios taught him of all things Stellar.

In the ninth year, the Archangel Looisos taught him of the structure of Everything.

In the tenth year, the Most Great Archangel Sakaki taught him of the structure of Nothing.

And then the doors of the Vault opened for Saint Jon.

“Beyond the suns that guard this roost,” chant Helkgematios, Sakaki and Sevohtartra.

“Beyond your flowers of flaming truth,” chant Algamatant, Ksheltarna and Peshtvogner.

“Beyond your latest ad campaigns,” chant Viloyer, Looisos and Herkission.

Jon steps into a reading room. He notices several chess boards.

“Hi!”

“T3h Buddha,” acknowledges Jon.

“I prefer to be called Anaxerretibes, really.”

Jon almost looks surprised. He knows the name. A Greek philosopher, wasn’t it? How… unlikely.

“I kinda figured out all and everything, you know. Mother always said I was clever. So I found my way here.”

“You know why…”

“Oh, yes, I know everything. Funny, Moebius is so naïve. You have to stop him, of course. That’s the funny thing, you never did. Because he made the Heropass move sideways. While in the past and future of the multiverse he wins every time, your chance is making your time. All your cosmos are belong to him.”

Jon looks blank.

“As soon as you enter your universe, your brain won’t be able to hold all you know now. It’s not as good as mine. So the greatest portion of your transhuman wisdom will manifest itself outside of you, maybe in the shape of an animal. It shall be your familiar, your guru, your pokémon. It is, ultimately, you, but you know by now ‘you’ ‘don’t’ ‘exist’. So there.”

Jon nods.

“It’s for the best. Knowing everything isn’t all it’s cracked to be. It’s hard to be surprised.”

Jon nods.

“The explicate order of the universes is limited hardware, mate, and the permeating consciousness is a system that has been taken over. You have to be a Strange Loop for that system.”

Jon nods.

“Our perception travels backwards in causality. Moebius was the Akhaldan who learned this and his selfishness used this to retroactively cause the Big Bang as-is, or, as-was. History changes as a block, so time-traveling can’t really undo what he has done. There is unity in the universe.”

Jon nods.

“I mean, the anthropic principle can be extended to evil. Why is there evil? Because if there wasn’t the question would be meaningless. As-it-became, it was inevitable that someone would seize the universe’s availability, and Moebius is just the autopoietic cause-and-consequence of this inevitability. He is necessity.”

Jon nods.

“But you knew that. I’m just checking. Go, now. Existence, at all, depends on what you know. Godspeed. Bow chicka wow wow.”

End of the Non-Quarter

~*~

Fourth Quarter: Highly Exalted Kshatrya

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on

He took a face from the ancient gallery

And he walked on down the hall

He went into the room where his sister lived, and... then he

Paid a visit to his brother, and then he

He walked on down the hall, and

And he came to a door... and he looked inside

Father, yes son, I want to kill you.

Mother... I want to...

- The Doors, The End

Saint-Germain blinked. The gun had failed. And then there was hell.

EVERYBODY. EVERYBODY. PLEASE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. YOU ARE NOW HOSTAGES. HAVE A GOOD DAY.

“DAMOCLES took over,” whispered the Baron.

Riley raised an eyebrow. “Weapons disabled, huh?”

“Yes. Spellcasting, too. Quite a good move, I wonder what comes next.”

Vinny was staring at the gun pointed at him and blinked. Part of the ceremony, maybe?

YOUR WEAPONS ARE DISABLED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

Johnson pulled out his gun and tentatively shot Saint-Germain. No result.

“Produce melee weapons.”

The other Aurorans nodded.

Sister Assumpta stood up. “Oscar, make haste! Something is wrong with Vincit!”

“Vinny? You mean, besides the priest trying to kill him?”

“He must have a just reason!”

Oscar held her arm. “You heard the computer. It could be dangerous to… gee, what’s with the green light?”

Aris heard David despite the chaos. “Aw, fuck, fucking fuckety fuck fuck.”

He nodded dreamily.

Uziel’s eyes flared. He mustn’t interfere with this. He disappeared.

Klot, “Ah, it has begun.”

Nevin, “What? You said nothing about… aw, shit.”

“Daddy’s just trying to appear all cool and dark. We must’ve pissed him off.”

Klot glared with his non-existent eyes.

669 was holding his companion’s arm with gentlemanly grace. “And now, what’s happening?”

“Four people have just appeared from nowhere. They’re strange.”

“Next to Omnibus, right?”

“Yeah. By the way, do you think it would be ghastly inappropriate for me to faint now, darling?”

“Not at all, go right ahead.” Thud. “Well then, it’s just the way she said it would be. Hooray.”

Gauss glanced at Nicolette, stood up and walked to the newcomers. “Greetings. I couldn’t help but notice you’re interfering with my friend’s marriage. You’re embarrassing him and my Empire’s security forces. If you leave now, I might consider not having the Streamers hunt you down and skullfuck you into a vegetative state.”

One of the intruders chuckled. “Wow, Kirsi, your father is the whining ass you said he was.”

A girl replied tiredly, “Yes, well, I never lie.”

“…father? What?” Gauss raised an eyebrow. “Are you insane?”

Intruder #1 climbed on the altar. “Hello! I’m Wolfram Omnibus and I shall be your host for tonight’s terrorist takeover! I hate to interrupt my daddy’s marriage like this, but you see, I want to kill him and I came all the way from the future for this!”

Vinny made a very clear o.O of what-the-fuck-ness. Then again, that explained why Wolfram looked almost exactly like him except for the blue fur… he glanced at Windsong. She was strangely calm. Yes, nothing was making much sense, he decided.

“Right, since we shall be together till the very end of this looong night, some introductions are in order. This, my friends, is Kirsi. I wub her so vewwy much. She was the Empress, ya know, and she put half the Galaxy to death out of a whim. My kind of dragon!”

Kirsi smiled coldly. Her hand darted out and grabbed her father’s throat. Gauss was too shocked to resist. He could easily see now the clear signs of a pure silver and indigo bloodline. Yes, nobility incarnate. She looked as aloof as Nicolette and as selfish as Nike. If he could breathe, he’d sigh.

“Yes, honey bunny, shut him up, will you? Well then, the guy with the horns is my buddy Casimir, murderous psychopath extraordinaire! He also comes from the best of Gamezohan Empire and Republic! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the son of President Joel and Empress Nike!”

Johnson raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Imperatrix. She was fuming, no, practically choking. Of course, it made no sense. Unless…

The second girl raised her hand and Johnson collapsed dead, together with the other Aurorans and Gauss’s Streamer bodyguards.

“Ah, yes, last but not least, sweet Nava. She’s reading your minds right now and would have killed you if you had any chance of interfering. Between her and Kinky, ze girlz have enough magic to make any effort redundant. And that’s us! The Remarkably Evil Four!”

Nike jumped up. “Damn, Wild Thing, your cub talks too much.”

“…yeah, I noticed. Yours makes me want to kill, too.”

Wolfram laughed. “My, now we know where our compulsive talking comes from. Whaddya want, hot auntie?”

Nike placed two sharp bits of metal into his skull. Vinny roared and pounced on him.

Wolfram laughed more. He tossed his father aside and pulled the sai from his head.

“You caaan’t take down a quarter-zardarkian that easily, woman. Especially when he’s also a Wendauerian warlock. Blue fuzz… of DOOM!”

Kirsi rolled her eyes. “Can I kill father now? He’s weak and embarrassing.”

“Aw, but he’s so hot. I mean, sure, honey bunny. During the ritual.”

“What about the priest? I want to kill the priest. Tell you what,” Casimir tears out Saint-Germain’s heart, “I just did.”

Wolfram rolls his eyes. “People, you’re making me look not psycho in comparison. Stop.”

“Aww.”

“Oh, kill all the clergy then, if you must.”

“Yay!” The audience watched the massacre petrified. Those who tried to move found out they couldn’t. Oscar averted his gaze and noticed Assumpta clenching her fists powerlessly.

Nava, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Kirsi, “Yes. We’re not being professional.”

Wolfram, “Aw, I was kinda hoping I’d take your whole family as love-slaves. I wuv ze dragonz.”

“Bastard.”

“You know you love me.”

“Well. Yes.” Kirsi dropped her father. “Very well, where are our underlings?”

Klot approached with a grimace. “Contacts. Your contacts. Those would be us.”

“Hey, Casimir is pure evil. Cool,” said Nevin.

“Jes. Pretty, too! ^_^” added Kara. “Like Gauss but manly and evil.”

Klot rolled his non-existent eyes. “Right, then, what’s our part in the plan?”

Nava, “As soon as we started the ritual, I wouldn’t be able to maintain my spell on everyone. They could easily overpower you. Hence, a proxy. Do you have the Infrared Dragon?”

Emmanuel looked quizzically at Nevin, who shrugged.

“I see,” said Nava. “Kirsi, do your thing.”

Kirsi approached Emmanuel and touched his cheek. He flinched, disgusted.

“Ah, our most inferior, disgusting brethren. Who’d think you could still have a purpose…” With one downwards strike, Kirsi made Emmanuel fall to his knees, and then she placed her hands on his head. His eyes closed and his body went limp.

“A perfect job, as always,” she said with a thin smile.

“Yes, you rule. Remind me to have you lick my boots tonight again. You’re getting too cheeky.” Wolfram turned to Nava. “Is it working?”

“Yes. We have all possible resistance neutralized.”

“Great, so this mean I can walk to my future mother-in-law like this… and bitchslap her like this… with total impunity?” he concluded, grinning at Kirsi.

She shrugged. “Don’t care about her either, have your fun.”

“You delightfully cold bitch!” roared Wolfram, laughing.

“Mistress Salyra, why aren’t we doing anything?”

“My dear Vasdhra, they don’t know we’re free. I’m enjoying this. Moebius knows how to put on a show…”

“Yes, mistress.”

“We’ll collect the pieces afterwards. Patience, darling…”

Unable to resist, Vinny and Gauss were dragged to the altar and tied. After finishing, Wolfram slapped Gauss’s face playfully. “I recall hating your guts when I was little, you know. You seemed so important and cool and daddy was such a moron. Of course, I eventually noticed you’re just a stupid iguana, and now I’m boinking your daughter, so God bless your genes!”

Gauss tried to reply, but his mouth wouldn’t move.

“At my mercy! My prisoner! My toy! Hahahah! HAHAHAHA what.”

Casimir, “You’re being strange again.”

Wolfram coughed. “Erm, right. And you, daddy… well… my faults as a son are your faults as a parent. But you knew that, right? That you could never do anything right?”

Vinny almost managed to snarl.

“Thought so. Nava, did you find the third sacrifice?”

Nava nodded and pointed. Casimir grinned evilly. Oscar swallowed hard. It was Joel’s grin, with Nike-mischief spice. And he was coming for him. And he couldn’t move. Oh God.

Uziel, “Moebius. I’m going to interfere.”

“You know what would happen.”

“… yes. Yes I do.”

“Good. Keep your empty threats to yourself.”

“I will stop you. Eventually.”

“Wilhelm couldn’t. You’re just the avatar of his Tres essence.”

“There’s the Fuzzy Pope.”

“There’s 0000.”

“The Gosling…”

“I defeated the Witch. Her mind’s gone.”

“So. A stalemate.”

“Yes. Meanwhile, my plan unfolds.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, you’re useless now,” replied Nava.

“Heeey. Nava and Nevin. Appropriate, huh?” Nevin winked.

Nava rolls her eyes. “Amazing. You’re just as annoying as my father recalled you!”

Nevin brightened up. “Old Mad Knife!? I knew I could recognize that shade of purple hair anywhere! …well, the pointy ears were something of a giveaway too.”

“Yes. I gutted him twenty years from now, but since I kinda liked him I staked you through the heart as he died so he could go in peace. And excruciating pain, but I’m not too nice.”

“Aww, I always knew it would be by a lady’s hands…”

Kara snarled. “Anyway! Um! Can we go away or what?”

Nava didn’t look at her. “Sure. You’re all useless, like I said. Scram.”

Klot opened his mouth to object, but couldn’t speak. He grimaced.

“And stop thinking bad things at me. You think too slow.”

“Ah, daddy. Did you know you’ll be remembered as the weakest ruler the Empire ever had? It’s true. But it’s ok, you’re a star.” Kirsi goes down on one knee mockingly. “I had to wash the Galaxy in blood to rid it from all the weak scum you allowed to prosper. It’s incredible. You had all these right genes and yet you associated with such little people,” she waved her hand towards Vinny.

Gauss moved his eyes towards Wolfram.

Kirsi shrugged. “Well, yes. Pheromones, I suppose. Anyway, have a good death, this time. The Tinfoil Lady wasn’t very merciful.”

Blank stare.

She faked surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know? It was one of the most painful demises in recorded history. Mother killed herself because of it. Sad. A strong woman dragged down by love. Stupid, oh so stupid…”

“Well then, thank you, Matthias.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Syne.”

“I was being sarcastic. Why didn’t you tell me this would happen?”

“I prefer to show off my l33t ghost lawyer powahs.”

“Interdicting Nava’s spell from affecting me. Nice.”

“It’s twice as hard as it sounds. Now stop thinking so loud.”

“Ah, the Oscar. You know, when you killed Joel, I was almost impressed. Such righteous fury. Of course, you slinked into depression. Your essence had been tainted and you had just killed yourself. You’d never be whole. Killing you was an act of mercy.”

Oscar tried to avoid Casimir’s sneer. He couldn’t.

“Sadly, Moebius wanted me to kill you in the ritual, assume your role in the Rocket. That’s what we’re doing, you know. Making sure the Rocket is in the Wrong Hands. But yeah. I’d prefer to kill Joel, but somehow you also qualify as my ancestor. And mommy… well, Moebius’ daughter, I dunno if you know her, she had other plans for the ‘great empress’. Anyway, where was I. Oh, yes… how I’ll enjoy it. The second time is always so smoother… I’ve carved myself a brand new knife from an arcturian wolfbear’s femur, only for this…”

Somewhere, a middle-aged human body begins moving inside a vat. It breaks open.

ESCAPE STATUS = $uccess [deletion averted]

/AVATAR CREATED/ FLAG.SET = 1

/DAMOCLES AWARE/ FLAG.STATUS = 0

Jeeves began looking for suitable clothing. To serve and protect.

Nava, “My father will be here any time. With ‘mommy’.”

“I take it you’re tracking his ship?” asked Kirsi, attached to Wolfram’s arm.

“Impossible, he’s too careful. I’m tracking Wallington’s. He’s always one step behind, that one.”

“I thought Moebius had wanted us to kill the paladin?” asked Casimir, sharpening his bone knife. With his own claws.

Nava shrugged. “He’s not here. It’s alright, though, I don’t think he’d work. His DNA was changed significantly by the MPOITU.”

A teleportation was heard.

“Here is the merchandise. Wait…”

“Hullo, Mad Knife.”

“Nevin! And… who are you? I thought I was dealing with the AZTECH!”

“You were. We fooled the idiots. Well, Moebius did. He does all of our conspiraceeing.”

“And who the fuck are you?”

Wolfram cuffed Valendil. “Respect, bizatch.”

Valendil’s eyes flashed in anger. “Ah. I see now.” His hair began floating. “I AM LORD OF THE SUN. You’re the bastard children of a universe where Moebius is God. Your place is not here. I AM LORD OF THE MOON. You defy the natural law, the only one the Unseelie Court bows to. I AM LORD OF THE STARS. Start rueing.”

“Nava, turn him off.”

“Ok.”

Thump.

Nevin chuckled. “I saw that one coming.”

“Well then, maybe we shouldn’t have had Valendil kidnap Miriam.”

“Hey, it could have worked. Have faith, Mr. Syne.”

“Right. So, erm, what did the elf do to her that Nava was born?”

“Oh, it didn’t happen in this universe. Didn’t you hear what he said? Somewhere else… it’s anyone’s guess, I suppose. I’m glad we’ll never know.”

“Yes. I am too.”

Wolfram sang happily as he drew a pentagram around the altar with his own blood.

“Oh, my name it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall, damn your eyes!…”

Kirsi, “Let’s get this over with.”

“My name it is Sam Hall, and I hate you one and all, damn your eyes!…”

Nava, “I’ll begin, you follow.”

Casimir, “Sure, why not.”

“Yes, I hate you one and all, you’re a gang of buggers all, damn your eyes, damn your eyes!”

“Cut that out, Wolfram,” said Kirsi.

“Shaddap, ho. Begin!”

Nava raised her arms, and was struck by a crossbow bolt. 669 stood up in the crowd.

“²£³°ª£²¢ª¬£¬¢ª°¬¢¬ª¢³³£º¢³£ª£¢²ª³£¹!”

“What’s that?” asked Wolfram.

“Thaynese,” said Kirsi.

“Right.”

Nava pulled the bolt from her torso and waved her hand. 669 collapsed.

“Was that what I think it was?”

“Yes.”

Pause.

Wolfram, “Hey, it’s Jon. Look, Nava, it’s the Jon!”

“Ah. Moebius never seems to be wrong, huh…” said Casimir, grinning madly.

Jon looked up. He was ready, but it was still a shock to lose Enlightenment so suddenly. And those… were they the misguided children who shouldn’t be?…

Wolfram opened his arms defiantly and bared his fangs. “Ok, this is where we kill him and Moebius wins. Hah, the idiots always buy the Dark Ritual routine…”

---

 

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