The Book of Other Suns (IC, see OOC)

[Reixia]

(OOC: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=471810)

The call to come upstairs came at the last hour, with the bells of Farport chiming the end of the day. You'd all been gathered together, meeting your fellow hunters for the first time. Auren had come to the door and bowed, requesting your immediate attendance at a dinner meeting with your employer and most gracious host.

It had been a quick walk, up the stairs and down the hall. Servants appeared and disappeared through varying doors, barely registering your presence and barely registering on your awareness. Auren chattered as she led you on, a list of information about your hithertoo unseen employer and how to address her: Always 'Lady', never ask her name, don't press for answers, don't stare... it may have registered on your mind, or it may not have.

The door opened. You were allowed to step inside.

It was a banquet hall, and the tables were set for your number, plus one. The food was a symphony of colors, and seemed chosen more for its aesthetic values than for any theme or unity. Your host sat at the far end of the table.

The Lady's hair and eyes glowed gold in the dancing lights that lined the hall. Her skin was white as milk, seeming to shine with its own inner luminosity. She was tall and slender, her features sharp and angular, but her curves emphatically a woman's curves, so far as they could be discerned from beneath the heavy silver robes she wore. Her fingers sparkled with a half-dozen rings that formed a rainbow when she beckoned Auren to come to her. As pretty as all Reixanxi were, Auren seemed but a pale shadow before her lady. She went to her mistress' side and whispered introductions. The Lady didn't even bow her head, just waved a delicate hand, and immediately the amanuensis went to her knees, then fell into a froglike proskynesis. The Lady rose to her feet. "Welcome, honored guests. I am pleased to see that my servant has chosen well. Now, please. Eat. Eat of my banquet. Drink of my wines."

She clapped her hands, a sound like the ringing of a bell, and more servants appeared from the shadows and drew seats back from the tables. One servant for each of you. When and if you sat, the servant stood at your side, motionless and silent, waiting for an order. "Ask, and you shall receive," said the lady, who sat down and took a delicate bite of a peach that seemed to have been crved from crystal. After that first bite, she put it aside. A servant appeared, took the fruit, and then vanished into the shadows. She then took a bite of what might have been the drumstick of a chicken, were it not for its bright red color. Again, after that bite, she put it aside. Another servant (or the same servant? They all looked identical) appeared to dispose of that food.

[Olimpiada]

---

Farport, Alai Crost
Farport Harbor

---

Farport. A third of a million light years from his birthplace, and impossibly far from his home. Aurelius was unsure where he was now, or if it was even in the Milky Way anymore. A mixture of tongues were spoken around the room, and his translator implants did their best to translate snippets of conversation. A pair of Dornalians were discussing personal transports, while a group of local Reixians loudly complained about the rowdy barbarians in the establishment, confident that none could understand them. The cultures were unknown, the people were unknown, his location was unknown, his plans were unknown. What he did know was that despite the dinginess of this tavern, the food was decent. He slurped down a bowl of spicy noodle soup and periodically washed it down with a sip from his pint of local beer. It was almost enough to distract him from the absences in his head.

Most people who had lost someone important to them often suffered from almost hallucinatory memories of their presence, he had been told. They would see familiar faces where none were, hear voices and mistake them for others, the wrong scent, taste, or word would send them down a rabbit hole of memories and regrets. Aurelius had watched five such people die in front of him, had felt the neural links to people he had known since before he was born snap, had watched the Office’s recovery teams simply burn their corpses and chalk his absence up to 902-Bravo’s ravenous hunger, and could only feel the screaming nothing in his head where five others used to live.

He had wandered the stars for a time since then. Getting off that jungle covered rock had been hard, but when the Izirians inevitably came to burn the Olimpiadan colony there, he had carved through their flock in the dead of night and stolen a transport. His travels took him out of the Borealis Sector to the rest of the Delta Quadrant. After working odd jobs to make ends meet and fund his continued journey for a time, he eventually found himself in the Eridani Imperium. Though he had many fewer issues with xenoi than his former owners did, the place suited him as little as any other, and he found himself crossing the She Shiu to the Purple Dragon Enclosure and his current place of residence.

Expository thoughts like this seemed wholly unnecessary, but they crossed his mind more often than he liked. Whenever things grew quiet, he found himself playing the last five years over in his head again. If his aim had been better, would Sigrunn have lost her arm in that beast’s jaws? If he had been better at maintenance, would he have picked up Alrik’s mental cries for help despite the interference it emitted? Each and every question was met by silence, where once his family would have answered at the speed of thought.

He snapped back to reality. Across the bar, a burly man was staring at him. He realized he had been doing the same in turn for some time. The brute grunted something to his companion and stood up. Began to approach Aurelius. Like most Olimpiadans, Aurelius was about two meters tall. This freak dwarfed him by a few dozen centimeters. This was not cause for concern. Aurelius was engineered, augmented, enchanted, and trained. He could kill his adversary several dozen times before the fellow could bring his barrel-sized arms into range. A hundred after he (theoretically) managed and well before he would hit the ground. Unfortunately, the authorities here took poorly to wanton violence from maligned gorillas and their supersoldier opponents. He raised both his hands in a gesture of meekness, and headed for the door. Raucous laughter followed him as he left. He cared little.

He stood now in Farport proper, at its harbor. Soft rain fell on the throngs of merchants at their stalls. It was twilight, and the sun had just set, but the night was a bright one. Two of the three moons hung overhead, casting a soft glow on the people. Sweet and savory aromas drifted through the air from food stalls, mingling with the faint scent of petrichor. A few meters away from the tavern, a man haggled with some sort of elf over the worth of an amber amulet. Across the rain-slicked road, a drug peddler weighed a quantity of gold against a pile of brownish powder. While he had been in Olimpiadan buildings which held more people than this entire settlement, possibly even the planet, the crowds still felt needlessly annoying at this time. So, he headed toward the harbor.

The ceaseless haggling of the market was replaced eventually by the sound of the harbor. Even as businesses across the city closed for the day, ships still came and went regardless, each crew operating on its own schedule which cared not for local rhythms. At least there was a peace to this noise. No one wanted him to buy fruits, drugs, curios, artifacts, precious gems, or anything of the sort here. Picking a park bench, he cast a quick spell to evaporate the rain before it fell within a meter of him, and sat down to consider his next move.

From here, he could go most anywhere. The rest of Reixia was off limits to foreigners such as himself, but there was no such restriction on returning to the Milky Way. He had heard that security work in Beta was plentiful, and his own experience with that untamed region certainly lent itself to that idea. Alternatively, he had heard that Mars was a fine place to visit, though certain nations on its terraformed shores were best avoided for the sake of one’s sanity. Then again, it might not be best to leave after all. While he could only live on the fringes of the Purple Dragon Enclosure, the fringes did overflow with nearly everything he needed to live. Maintaining his augments was less than simple here, but certainly possible.

A mousy girl sat next to him on the bench. He ignored her. He had tried prostitutes before, and none of them had ever improved his mental state. Maybe it was the gold plating on spots of his visible augments that had attracted her, or the few lines of tattoo ink visible above his collar.

“You looking for work?” That was a change of pace. He actually looked at her properly for once. Definitely not in that line of work, then.

“Depends. What sort?”

---

A day had passed, and Aurelius found himself freshly employed.

Exploratory work was a rather dull return to form for him, but it was what he was built for anyway. The figure she had quoted him was worth fairly little in Olimpiada, but the precious metals could be transformed into things here worth significantly more there. Enough for him to buy a few floors of a decent sized building and an identity that didn’t mark him as government property, at least. That would be incentive enough for him to quit moving around, for a time.

The girl (whose name he now knew was Auren) guided him down the hall, explaining a plethora of cultural rules, her vocalness contrasting sharply with her timid appearance. Most of the notes were simple enough to remember, though the formality of calling his new employer “Lady” was slightly irritating. His translator implant worked by conveying meaning of foreign words directly into his brain, and converted his thoughts into a series of foreign words he knew not the exact meaning of, but could pronounce with a slight Greek accent. The title was irritating to remember, a situation where he had to piece together Reixani grammar on the fly and insert it where appropriate based on a series of educated guesses and his personal variety of conjecture.

Finally, the doors opened. The Lady finally revealed herself. Would have been appealing if Aurelius’s mind wasn’t focused on business. He was directed to a chair, and stood there until The Lady took a seat before taking his own. She instructed them to eat, which he hesitated at. His funds had bought him peasant food, and while he had learned which of that that he liked, the selection of fine food at the table was wholly foreign. A servant virtually identical to the other seven at the table appeared next to him and stood uncomfortably close. Aurelius was about to ask about the man’s purpose before The Lady explained. Right, that was for him. He was rich people now. The experience was new. He requested something he actually knew. “Aged bourbon, and something big and relatively simple.” He had never been a picky eater, growing up on Olimpiadan “coffee” and ration bars, but his thaumaturge’s genetics required him to eat a larger amount of food than most if he were to actually have the energy needed to cast spells. The bourbon was requested because he liked it. With that detail squared away, it was time to wait. Not just for his meal, but for his job.

[A m e n r i a]

Farport

A peguin slid across the busy streets on his belly, looking for the woman that offered him a job beforehand - or rather, an associate of hers. The penguin was only given a small device prior, which helped him travel or "fall" to this menagerie of a world, with not much to go on about his would-be empoyer or where the hell this place was. He didn't even know what this place was; another planet, another dimension, or another universe?

The sky that once shone green had changed colour thanks to the sunset. Before long, it was night time already. Tired, he slid to a park and sat on a bench near a fountain. Thankfully, the refreshing rain eased his fatigue somewhat. Moments later, he felt someone look at him. A quick glance revealed the person that fits the description of who was supposed to pick him up. "What, you never seen a penguin before?"

Patrick Skimmer, the penguin that was somehow chosen as a mercenary in a foreign planet waddled closely behind Auren, the woman from earlier. She explained how to act, dos and don'ts, just like when he first joined one of the most influential crime families in Penguin City. The bird was taken to a dining room, with another woman sitting at the other side of the table. She looked familiar, as if he's seen someone with a similar appearance before, but can't exactly put his flipper on it.

In any case, he was hungry, and he could ask for whatever he wants from the servant next to him. He looked at her. "Hey, gimme some sushi, would ya? Lanternfish and squid. And some white wine." He ordered. Soon, he was dropping sushi in his mouth with his flipper as he looked up, before moving his head and throat to make it easier for him to swallow.

[Alversia]

Tiffany White tried to keep her nerves under control.

She could feel the pressure from all sides but she had to keep focused on the target, to block out all other distractions and disturbances. That was the essence of true markship, not just being able to hit a target but to do under the most trying of circumstances. The Alversian took a deep breath, trying to keep her hand steady, holding the air in her lungs before exhaling slowly, gently through her nose. The air was stale and harsh on her tongue, acrid and unpleasant but still she drew it in, keeping herself as planted as possible. She tried not to blink, as each blink would require her to realign her target and already she could feel her time running out. This was what all her training had been leading up, all those years of practise, countless time on the firing range, practising over and over again.

This was it. No further chances. All or nothing.

One final exhale.

Please don’t let me miss.

She fired.

The ping pong ball bounced once against the table before landing squarely in the cup.

The bar erupted into chaos. Tiffany raised her arms and looked around at the crowd, seething with delight and despair in equal measure. Many jumped and bounced about with their mates while others pointed and gestured wildly, curses and outrage lost amongst the general din even as money was exchanged in bunches between victors and losers. Before her, at the other end of the table, her opponents stared blankly between the single cup before them, ping pong ball bopping in the vodka and the single cup on her end, thinking of how close they had been to victory. Her Kadrian partner grabbed her up in a huge bear hug, holding her easily in one hand while the other punched the air, his booming voice filling her left ear, grin from ear to ear. As soon as she was let down, the Alversian was taken up by the celebrating mass enriched by her victory all while she laughed aloud. Draining the cup before her and crushing it in her palm, Tiffany navigated herself from her adoring public, ignoring calls for a rematch from angry punters and patrons until she was outside.

Taking a deep breath of the recycled air of Farpoint Station, the coolness washing over her after the crusty and sweat-soaked interior of the bar, Tiffany pulled out a cigarette and, with a flick, lit it and took a deep puff. Around her, life in one of the seedier parts of Farpoint went past with only the barest acknowledging of her presence, the odd side-glance or staring from a distance, each of which she responded to with a nod of the head or the raising of her smoke in salute. Despite the coolness, there was a pleasant warmth in her fingertips, the result of three games of beer pong after another, an epic encounter that would surely live in the memories of the patrons for a few days, assuming their memories made it through the night.

The door behind her hissed open.

“You are some woman, you know that? Un-fucking-believable!”

Tiffany turned to see her Kadrian collegue standing there, his vast frame blocking the door, beard down to his chin, holding a beer in one hand. She accepted it with a coy smile and chinked it with his own before draining half the glass in one gulp.

“You won’t stay for another?”

“Want to leave it on a high Bjorn,” The woman glanced up to the sky and sighed, shaking her head, “And I've got somewhere I need to be. Somewhere lucrative. Speaking of which, do you have-“ She nodded to his jacket.

The taller man laughed, a deep and booming sound as he pulled out a thick stack of promises and guarantees, “Trust you not to forget your winnings eh. Well, take them! You earned every one of these tonight!” He clapped her on the shoulder, making the smaller woman stagger even as a cheer came from within, “Ah! My adoring public call my name!”

“Go on, you big bearded bastard,” She play-punched him on the shoulder, “Don’t you dare lose our winning streak before I get back.”

As he disappeared back into the area, she tossed her cigarette onto the ground, stamped it out with her boot and pulled up her collar and headed towards her appointment.

---

Tiffany sniffed as she was led by the nice Reixanxi who had hired her in the first place, hands in pockets as she rattled off the finer parts of etiquette until it devolved into a sort of droning in her ear. The buzz of the bar was starting to wear off, to her annoyance, the warmth retreating to be replaced instead by a cold, an itching to have that feeling back. The second urging was for another cigarette but alas, she doubted such would be welcome in such a fine establishment. Too nice for her tastes; too showy, too fancy, too garish. She much preferred the bar with its filthy floor, its stained walls and sticky tables. It may not have been a place she would order a pie…again…but its people were honest. They said what they meant to your face and they would stand by it. Low-born, hardworking and proud of it.

Then there were the people who she assumed were to be her new workmates. A morose looking man to one side who seemed content to keep himself to himself and…a penguin? Sure. Why not.

Taking her seat at the banquet table, between the rather sad man and the penguin, abundantly aware that she smelt like a cheap tavern in what was an otherwise refined setting, Tiffany studied the Lady as she took her seat daintily and welcomed them. She was pretty, of that there was no doubt though again, her airs and graces set off alarm bells in her mind. There was an arrogance she found a turn off, ah well.

With a clap, the servants appeared, making the Alversian jump as she looked them up and down with no small degree of curiosity.
“Wine please,” She said in her soft Alversian tone, “Something strong and in quantity, if you don’t mind. As for food…” She considered, pouting her lips, “I’ll go for something spicy.”

[The Eridani Imperium]

It was never quite clear to Serrin Ironheart what attracted the girl to him. There were plenty of Athmer more suited for mercenary work, many of them fresh from Kadria herself and willing to take a mate.

Serrin, on the other hand? He met none of those conditions. But somehow, the girl had tracked him down just outside of the tavern where his latest fight had occured (in fairness, the Tochrann did insult his clan and ancestors). The way her emerald eyes shone as she conveyed the Lady's request convinced Serrin to take up the job. And so the Kadrian set off for the Lady's manor under the verdant skies of Farport.

Unlike Kadria's bustling trade plazas, the presence of útlendinga was rare in Reixia. While everybody was welcome on Farport, only a few had found an advantage to doing business with the Reixanxi. Fortunately, all of them had good relations with Kadria for the moment.

As Serrin passed through the markets, a pair of Dornalians continued to haggle over transport.The scent of Kadrian goldback trout coated with honey beckoned the Kadrian over to a stall run by a Reixanxi who had the air of one who had spent his formative years in Ebonheart. They began to haggle, and soon Serrin had traded a few bars of silver for a slice of trout. After he had finished this morsel of home, Serrin entered the Lady's rather large manor - a classic example of the excesses of Reixan aristocracy.

One flight of stairs and a hall later, The Kadrian was being ushered into the banquet hall. He gave a respectful nod to the Lady and took his seat across from the Alversian, taking stock of his companions. After a bit, Serrin turned to the servants. "A bottle of Karsk, some meat, and the best fruit you have."

As this order was brought to him, Serrin turned to watch the Lady some more. To his mild surprise (and annoyance), Serrin realized that the Reixanxi was emulating her distant forebears. "O, Aldmeris! Old Ehlnofey! Your loving visage haunts us yet and your zephyr's kiss enthralls us still, but only in heart's memory," The Kadrian muttered, drinking his Karsk.

[Reixia]

The Lady smiled. Or, at least, she bared her teeth. With another clap, and a nod, the servants vanished, only to reappear scant moments later with the food and drinks requested. No matter how vague the request had been, it was fulfilled. For Serrin, a bottle of Karsk, a flank of dragon perfectly prepared, and a golden peach, seemingly freshly plucked from the tree. For Tiffany, a simple chicken (possibly) curry, and a glass of clear liquid that always refilled itself no matter how much she drank. For Patrick, fresh sashimi and sushi that would have done credit to a Japanese chef and a goblet of perfectly chilled white wine. For Aurelius... well, he had requested aged bourbon and something relatively simple. And this was what was given to him; the bourbon in a glass tumbler with ice on the side, ready should he choose, and a thick cut of steak that might, possibly, have come from an animal that he would have recognized.

Through it all, the Lady continued to eat her own meal, still taking only bites from each of the items in front of her and then disposing of them. When this, and anything else her guests asked for, was finished, she clapped her hands again. Immediately the servants appeared to clear the table. Throughout the dinner, she had not spoken again, and none of the servants had said a word even in response to direct queries, their expressions as blank as the walls.

But when the meal was over, and the table cleared, the Lady chose to break her silence. "And welcome you have been to eat at my table." She lifted a goblet. Auren immediately appeared behind her, to fill it with a thick, red liquid. The Lady waited until it was full, then raised her glass. "You have been welcomed and fed. You have accepted my coin. Now we turn to what I require of you." Auren gave them an apologetic smile that the other Reixan didn't seem to see. "Not far from here, as the raven flies, there is an old ruin of my people. Within its walls is hidden a book. The Book of Other Suns. It is mine by right of descent. You will go and get it for me."

[A m e n r i a]

The Lady's orders were simple. Take a book from a ruins. What she didn't say was probably important though. If it were that easy, why wouldn't she do it herself. Patrick raised his right flipper. "Hey, uhh boss? What's the catch here? Is it heavily guarded or hidden or something? Why grab a buncha folks from all around the multiverse just for one book?" He asked with an Italian-American accent.

[Reixia]

The Lady seemed surprised at being questioned. This was not something that happened often. She seemed uncertain at how to answer the question, and instinctively looked at Auren. The green-haired Reixan smiled and placed her hands together, then curtsied. "Of course, there will be guards and security." She said on rising. "But most importantly, there are safeguards in place to prevent us from entering the tomb ourselves. But the people who built these safeguards did not take into account the idea of hiring foreigners. Or non-Reixanxi at all. And foreigners certainly offer advantages we would not find in the subject peoples..." She looked around. "You're all armed, are you not?"

[Olimpiada]

---

Farport, Alai Crost
Farport Harbor

---

The others had arrived. A sapient bird (his implants said it was called a "penguin") with a taste for Jokinese food. A confident and slightly inebriated woman who seemed like she could use something to smoke. A knife ear he could have sworn he recognized from somewhere. A couple of empty spots at the table. That was unfortunate. A team short on members would never perform quite as it was supposed to. He certainly knew that all too well.

The food had arrived as well. A coffee-based substance and what appeared to be a piece of dragon served with a strangely reflective peach. A spicy curry and a glass of water (probably) rigged up to a teleportation spell of some sort. White wine and a cut of salmon which almost looked as regularly marbled as tank grown, though the Reixi likely weren't even familiar with that technology. For himself, a glass of caramel-colored bourbon and a cut of well seasoned steak. He dug in.

Olimpiadan food was a fickle thing. While the nation did have four thousand years of culinary tradition in some form or another, modern economics meant that most food for common people consisted of farmed fish, algal meat substitutes, sea-based vegetables such as kelp, and a large amount of rice with enough spice to trick the tongue into thinking any of it was natural. As an artificial soldier, his rations were even less flavorful than that, mostly large servings of high nutrient gruel for his ravenous thaumaturge's metabolism which tasted not entirely unlike chalk and oil. On his own, he had eaten cheaply, not much caring for what he consumed as long as it had enough energy to get him through each day. This was something else entirely. It tasted like beef, though his chemical sensors told him it was not. A fine rub of spices from places unknown set his salivary glands to work immediately. Flesh that was tender yet rare seemed to melt in his mouth, filling it with savory delights. It was, simply, the best thing he had ever tasted. It was difficult, but he had the restraint not to tear into it with reckless abandon, instead carefully working away at it with a knife and fork like any other civilized person. With a bit of ice, the bourbon went down dangerously smoothly. The rye spice had been mellowed by a hint of wheat and a few years longer in the cask than he had been alive, though that was hardly a feat. He went through his entire meal without speaking a word, the cacophony of unique and delicious flavors dancing across his taste buds and clearing his mind of other concerns. When he made it out of this job, he really could get used to this.

The job. Right. Still didn't know what that was. That was concerning.

When the mercenaries had finished eating, the lady spoke. She made a fair approximation of a smile and then issued them their quest. As it happened, they had to break into a ruin and acquire a book. Ordinarily, this would be a simple task. A series of breaching charges would be placed and detonated on wall after wall, and the archaeologists would enter, grab whatever loot they could, and then exit. At least, that was the preferred Olimpiadan method. Clearly these barbaroi would prefer some finesse, if they hadn't already done the job themselves.

The penguin spoke, asking a question that roughly mirrored Aurelius's own thoughts on the matter. It was a clever bird for being able to speak at all, but would likely be more useful as emergency rations when things inevitably went wrong in a few days' time. The Lady's response was some cause for concern on Aurelius's part. Dreadfully inspecific.

"I keep my rifle and spells on hand, ma'am," he said with a level of deference appropriate to the wages he had been paid. "Do we know anything about the sort of safeguards? Are they metaphysical, mechanical, biological? Do the ruins follow Euclidean geometry properly? What weapons and weaknesses do the guards possess that we know of?" He missed having briefings downloaded into his head, though doing so while falling from orbit was less desirable to return to. "I'd like to go in there with as much planning as possible, though working without is an option if necessary."

[Alversia]

Tiffany watched her compatriots as the food was brought for them even as the smell of the chicken curry hit her nose and caused her bared stomach to rumble loudly. By all that was good in this universe was she hungry. How long had it been since she had eaten? Before she had started drinking most likely, so that morning at the latest most likely. Across from her the seat had been taken by she could only assume a Kadrian, for they seemed to be everywhere on this station, nearly as much as the natives themselves. He seemed content to drink his flagon and mutter to himself words she did not quite catch. Well fine, she could hardly blame him given she had been there more than once herself, usually after the Sierra Eagles had lost yet another bloody game. Why did she support them again? Local affection? Or was it some deep embedded masochism that kept her coming back? Ah well, no point in dwelling on those painful memories. Still when she caught his eye she raised her glass in salute.

To one side, her new penguin pal had gathered himself some fish funnily enough and was dropping them into his beak. It was rather like a nature documentary…or it would have been had she ever seen one with a penguin at a dinner table. On the other side, morose-man ate like the station was falling into a blackhole, practically breathing in his steak as he polished it off in moments. In hindsight, she wished she had ordered that because by the powers it smelt damned good! Ah well, she had asked for curry and that was what she had gotten. Not that it smelt bad, far from it. There was nothing fancy about it, nothing refined any more than a curry needed and she took a bite only for the flavour to hit her palette like a Kadrian with a cricket bat. This was goooood! The punch of the spice lingered at the back of her throat but it was a pleasant prickle rather than an uncomfortable burning, easily washed away by the clear liquid in her glass that she quickly discerned was a type of wine in spite of its appearance. A good wine too, none of that cheap gutrot that got served near to where the merchant ships docked but brewed by someone who cared. She almost felt bad for draining the cup in one go without allowing those carefully cultivated tastes to develop on her tongue. Then again, the glass filled before her and that drew the Alversian’s attention yet again. Fascinating. A teleporter perhaps? Or an invisible servant pouring as soon as she was done? Something to ask later on perhaps.

Then the Lady stood and delivered her speech, welcoming them to her humble abode and offering them to drink of this simple meal. That was fine. What had her pursing her lips was when the details of the job were at last revealed. Well, sort of revealed. Vaguely revealed. Go to a place and get a book. Like a library. Easy peasy? If only.

Thankfully her avian ally did not think so and in a blatant breach of the rules laid down before them, asked the Lady a question, challenge her even. She was starting to like this penguin.

As to weapons on hand…well she hadn’t brought her rifle with her. Though no one would think twice about seeing one in such a crowded station, it wasn’t exactly convenient to cart about the different hostelries she had been visiting. Instead, she had her handy pistols with her, one tucked snugly against each hip and then various other little surprises snuggled about her person just in case she needed them. That would be step one, go and get her rifle.

Then the guy beside her also began asking questions, much more precise and military in nature to which she had one more.
“Ahem…” She cleared her throat, “Yeah, sorry, something else to add to my mate’s questions here. When you say ‘safeguards’, what exactly are we talking about here? A lock on the front door? Some sort of massive killer drone? A flesh-eating virus that’ll dismember us as soon as we step through the door? Just asking, seems like a good thing to know before we set off.” She beamed.

[Reixia]

For the first time, a cloud seemed to appear on the face of the Lady. Her previously serene expression grew troubled and her golden eyes grew stormy. But Auren spoke instead, the amanuensis seeing the danger and holding it off. "These are very wise questions, and we are glad they were asked." She didn't sound glad. She sounded terrified, her voice shaking a little as the Lady turned her golden gaze upon her. But the younger Reixan continued. "I wish I had more of an answer than we do, but there is much that is unknown. I wil explain, though, as much as I can."

"You might imagine the guard as a... as a lock. One that we cannot enter. I tried to go in through the door, and was prevented from doing so. It was my suggestion that Her Ladyship hire foreigners." She looked between them, smiling weakly as she did. "I am sure that for one of you, at least, the door will open. If it doesn't, then you will be paid for your time." The young Reixan flinched at the words that left her lips. There was no doubt in her mind that if this failed, she would be punished harshly, and not much expectation of a reward if if there was success. "As to the other questions, there is no real answer at present. The ancients had many ways of protecting their treasures, and it is in the habit of thieves to guard their loot, but the records are unclear on the subject. I was sure, though, when I chose you, that you would all be competent in meeting whatever threat arose."

[The Eridani Imperium]

Serrin nodded at her words. "Of course we are competent - we just need to make a plan. Can you tell us anything else?"

[Xirnium]

Five foot six inches of skinny trouble-making girl looked up with a semi-smile of surprise. The artefact which the Lady wanted was closer than Juliette had expected, within the flight range of one of the larger-bodied species of the genus corvus. From the reward which the Lady had offered, Juliette had anticipated a lengthy extragalactic expedition.

Auren and the Lady seemed to know more than they were sharing. However, it was difficult to draw any firm conclusions from their taciturnity. Maybe there was some terrible threat which they wanted to conceal. Perhaps a cultural taboo the Reixanxi did not speak about with foreigners. Juliette shrugged her thin bare shoulders and distended her nostrils.

“Just to be clear,” Juliette checked. She was musical and apple-sweet, and spoke an omnilingual language. “You only want the book. Anything else we find is ours to keep.”

[Reixia]

"That would be the last we have to tell you." Auren was preempted by the Lady. "All I care for is the book. You may busy yourselves with whatever lesser treasures you find, in addition to our payment." And her expression again darkened. "I hope there are no further questions?"

[Xirnium]

Juliette shook her head. “Nothing from me.” She folded her slim bare arms and with a clatter put her silver-sandled feet on the table. While waiting for the other mercenaries she devoured a beautiful, banal, Eden-red apple. She would touch none of the animal biomass. Juliette only ate meat that talked.

[Olimpiada]

---

Farport, Alai Crost
Farport Harbor

---

While Aurelius had been inquiring about the details of his job, another mercenary had appeared. She was apparently human, of average height and apparently lacking arms or training of any sort. This was obviously suspect. A series of checks outside the visible spectrum with his augmented eyes failed to give him a full understanding of what she was, but there was certainly far more there than the average human had to offer.

While he was at it, he turned his checks to the Lady. While she still appeared serene to Aurelius, he knew full well that socialization was not his forte. A facial analyzer sequestered inside his body checked over her facial expressions, and placed the thought in his brain that she was barely concealing some great rage. Right. Best not to keep her waiting, then.

“I do believe that will be all, ma’am. Thank you for your time and food.”

[Alversia]

Tiffany beamed, seemingly quite pleased with the smallest sign of irritation in their host and the discomfort in their liaison, continuing to wolf down the curry in between chatting and only stopping when the newest member of the party entered and took a seat,
“Meeting threats is always fun! And there’s always ways to get through a door with enough tact and finesse and high explosives if need be. I do however, have one final question,” She leant in with a theatrical look left and right, checking for potential eavesdroppers or spies, “Can I get the recipe for this curry? It’s amazing and it would be just crippling, crippling if I couldn’t ever have it again. Other than that, I reckon I’m good,” She clapped her hands together, “Shall we get cracking folks?”

[Reixia]

Of course, they couldn't go that night. The Lady needed her sleep. And if Auren had preferred to spend her night paying attention to the Kadrian, then whose concern was that?

But they did go at dawn, accompanied by their employer and her associate. They boarded a strange flying conveyance that took them from the city of Farport, out under the green sky, to a land beyond the boundary walls. For Farport was not all of Alai Crost.

The planet where the Reixanxi had first come to the Purple Dragon Enclosure was ancient beyond measuring. And mostly untouched by their return. Dry and dusty lands lay beneath them, ravaged by time and abandonment. When they eventually landed, the valley where they had stopped seemed no different from any of the others they had bypassed. The Lady's guards, tall and lanky and clad in black and purple, seemed uneasy here, continually checking their weapons. Auren, too, seemed to shrink in on herself. None of them cared to leave the comfort of the vehicle. But the Lady did.

She was the first off, in fact. She stepped onto the old surface of a pond and crossed her arms, waiting. She had not dressed noticeably different for this expedition. Her pure dress seemed untouched by the sticky red dust and wind that seemed to touch everything. It blew around and about her, but never landed on her person or her clothes, though when Auren slipped off the flyer in the train of the mercenaries she was quickly bathed in it. The Lady didn't seem to care. She waited until the party was gathered before her, and pointed up the valley. "There is your door. There is my book. Auren, show them."

The stones were built into an arch. The arch opened into a dark passage that lead into the cliff. Between them and the passageway, though, glinted a barrier. Insubstantial, nearly, to the eye. The young Reixan nervously walked up to the barrier. She seemed to hesitate, paused, and looked back at the Lady, who nodded. A moment later, she touched the barrier... and was sent flying backwards, red-gold electricity visibly convulsing her. She landed at the feet of the Lady, shuddering, gasping in pain.

The Lady prodded her with her foot, and seemed satisfied with what she found when Auren eventually managed to sit up. "I have tried a dozen of my pledged servants. The result is always the same... except when they tried to enter." She left what this meant unsaid. "But my scholars tell me that mere salaried minions will be able to pass. You will do this for me."

The stones seemed perfectly ordinary, though the red dust did not lay on them despite their age. The barrier flickered before them. There was a set of runes along the inward edge of the stones that seemed to be projecting the barrier outwards. Lying on the ground, too, was a stone, much like the ones that lay in the old basin. Someone had thrown it through at some point. Some insect flew by, unconcernedly, passing through the barrier as if it wasn't there.

[Olimpiada]

---

Farport, Alai Crost
Farport Harbor

---

Good food, good beds, and good pay. Almost enough of a lifestyle change to silence the night terrors. Between satin sheets and feather pillows, beneath bone and circuitry, the night was full of fangs and blood. The greatest failure of his life replayed in his head like a skyscraper advertisement over late night Cobalt. He woke up with a start, sheets and bedclothes drenched in sweat. The clock in his retinal display informed him it was about three thirty in the morning, well before the group was set to depart. Sleep would not come again.

He paced back and forth in his chambers, bare feet dragging over lacquered wood once, twice, twenty times. He didn’t owe these people anything. Why should he care if they die? By all rights, that might even leave him with a larger cut for surviving at all. Wrong. Can’t trust employers, certainly not as far as he could throw them. Can’t fall into that mindset. Fear is not the mind killer; apathy is. The former keeps you jumpy and ready to fight. The latter made death almost appealing. He wasn’t going to pull everyone through this because he needed them to live. He was going to pull everyone through this because he needed to live.

The belongings from his boarding room had been brought by a servant earlier in the evening. While he did carry his weapons with him, his exoskeleton was less suitable for everyday wear than civilian clothes. He dug into them quickly. His armor, collapsed into a largish cube of metal, fabric, and electronics, made up the bulk of the crate. He pulled it out, expanded it, and pulled off the faceplate from the helmet. It was a neat little bit of electronics, an impact-resistant layer combined with the wiring for several different layers of electromagnetic spectrum viewing and some components of his tactical awareness systems. The lack of actual eyepieces rather than a distribution of microscopic lenses across the mask for the viewscreen within made it so that most soldiers decorated theirs with some sort of art. Everything from paintings to iconography to religious symbols were commonplace. Aurelius’s own was still matte grey, with five names etched around the edges where the piece met the rest of the helmet. He cast a short spell, and focused on the lines of armor he wanted to ablate. By the time he was done, the phrase “Ποτέ ξανά” glowed a bright but quickly cooling orange. Let the others wonder at his intent.

---

Outlands, Alai Crost
Unknown Location

---

Morning came. The sun peeked over the horizon as the planet in turn rolled over to face it. The mercenaries and a handful of guards took a flight to their destination. They landed where a dusty plain met a cliff face. An ancient arch opened its maw to a dark interior, revealing little that laid within. Mystery, danger, and riches all certainly laid within. For Aurelius, it was a proper return to form. Enter the job site, secure the Object, extract as quickly and cleanly as possible.

For the Reixians, it was something else entirely. The identical and ever unflappable guards seemed nervous here, almost to the point of being flighty. Even loyal Auren appeared to be unsettled by their locale. The Lady, emotionless as ever, stepped off first. Dust and wind swept the plain, yet her fine dress remained unmoved and unstained. A rather frivolous use of thaumaturgy, Aurelius thought. When he stepped off after her, the armor and fabric patterns he had reconfigured for the ruddy desert environment were immediately concealed by a shower of dust and grit. At least the membranes kept it out of the suit’s mechanical components. He cast a brief spell to keep his rifle’s barrel and radiators clear of it. A largely wasteful use of calories, but feeding equipment failures this early in the mission was a recipe for disaster.

“There is your door,” announced the Lady. A rather superfluous statement, but the attempt at drama was nice. “There is my book. Auren, show them.” Hesitantly, the girl walked to the barrier and was blown back in a shower of lightning. Instinctively, Aurelius checked his ultrasonics and thermals to see if she had died. She had lived, but the injury was an unnecessary waste. Whatever. Deal with what the boss wants. She claimed that the same would not happen to them, and Aurelius doubted it greatly. But there was little to do about it. Another spell, this one more complex. The argon disappeared from most of the air around him to create a nonconductive layer just above his armor. His body grew colder by a few degrees with the effort, and his armor rose in temperature to compensate. He passed through. Nothing discharged around him, or even tried to. Strange.

“Come along, the ruin’s fine,” he announced to the others. Having to speak on mission was annoying. “If all the traps are like this, we’ll be done by evening.”

[Alversia]

The night before was spent sound asleep but the next morning Tiffany awoke splayed across her bed, duvet and pillow spread across the room. Her head was thumping as if some little gal was in her head hammering against the inside of her skull and her mouth was bone dry. Ugh, typical. The morning light was warm and bright but she may as well have been gazing into the core of a star for all she could take of the view. So it was while squinting that the Alversian dressed herself, first in her jacket and pants and then her armour atop it. The helmet she would leave off until she actually needed it, partly because she liked having her full senses about her when she was getting ready but mostly because of the way her stomach was heaving. The last thing she wanted was to be sick into her helmet. Again.

So, with her rifle slung over her shoulder, pistols safely nestled in their holsters and various other little surprises stowed away for emergencies, Tiffany joined her new crew for their mission. The shuttle hummed gently and the noise was a great help as she settled in her seat and dozed, hands behind her head as she inhaled and exhaled gently. When their craft touched down, the party spilled out and Tiffany had a good look around. It was a pretty forlorn place, with only the howling of the wind for company save for the barrier in front of them. The guards seemed jumpy, and she could not blame them. They were entirely exposed where they were, even a single sniper could have positioned up nicely and picked them off one by one. The Lady was not bothered but then their potential assassin would not be asking questions so of course she would be fine. She was still waiting for that curry recipe as well.

The dust was everywhere, probably not helped by the landing ship and she sighed as she looked down at her rifle, currently sitting nicely in her hands. Already the colour had changed from its usual cream to a darker dusty colour but a quick scan verified there were no issues as of yet and her armour was doing its job of keeping the annoying little particles out of the more delicate components. Like her head. It was going to be a hassle later on to clean all of this of course. Perhaps she could hire someone to do it for her while she was out celebrating having survived whatever the hell it was they were going to be facing.

After the rather melodramatic declaration of their employer and then a demonstration of what happened whenever one of her own people tried to break through the barrier it was their turn. It had seemed like a rather unnecessary proof of what happened when her own people tried to go through and there was a moment of concern for the girl as she lay on the ground. Once she stirred though, Tiffany wondered if it were fun being thrown back across the desert like she had been. Now it was their turn and first up was the morose lad. He did some sort of weird gesture with his hands before he stepped up and then through the barrier. Nothing. No throw back there.

Slipping on her helmet and taking a deep breath as the atmosphere equalised for her, the Merc made sure that everything was green and working before she too stepped up. Again, nothing happened. Her sensors remained entirely green.
“Oh, you’ve definitely jinxed it now,” Her voice was little synthetic through the helmet as she shook her head at Aurelius, “We’ll probably end up fighting a fallen god with three heads and really bad breath.”

[Xirnium]

Juliette smiled with gleaming teeth at the traumatised young woman. It had been a dramatic miracle, an unmistakable transgression against the laws of nature, in service of a tedious concern — keeping the neighbours out. She laughed.

Hypothesis, Juliette’s personal AI muse announced. An elegant, clipped, international-film-actress voice. Some multi-domain godling has for reasons defying explanation twisted the universal constants in this region. That which ought not be is.

Uncertain, Juliette wiped her lips with her thin knobby wrist. The lightweight, skintight pressure smart suit which had painted her white from toes to neck to fingertips was stained bright red (as was her mouth and cheeks) as if by some alchemical process her skinny figure was being transmuted into dirt.

Subtle applications of advanced superstring technology could replicate these observations, Juliette thought.

She reached out and stroked the arch, and her feet (lightly armed in pseudo-leather split-toe boots) gestured abstractly. Juliette stood on her left instep with her right toe, removed it backward and crossed her feet. Under her glancing gloved fingertips she felt the smooth cool stone of the arch. Juliette’s nanometre precise touch could tell her nothing.

Her muse remained sceptical. Such manipulation of unified-field energies is incongruous with the society that built this structure.

Perhaps, thought Juliette.

Hearing that Aurelius and Tiffany had passed unharmed through the archway, Juliette turned from the arch and dropped her hands loosely beside her slight, flared hips.

‘Wait for me!’ the short slim girl called before tripping after the two on her nimble, vivid, white-shod feet.

[Qhevak]

Farport

She'd tracked the rogue operative for two years and thousands of parsecs, going from wartorn hotzones to decadent Beta gardens to ancient Gamma corpseworlds lit by cthonic vyre stars, and hated every minute of it. When she ultimately finished the job, with a bullet in the back of the head in a seedy dive bar a hundred thousands parsecs off the galactic plain, the only thought in her mind was of relief that it was over. Relief from the countless bleary eyed nights, spent pouring through mountains of transit logs and security footage for the slightest hope of a pattern. So, after the mousy girl met her at the harbor, right before she was to leave for another job too boring for anyone but her to handle, she sent Shivastra her resignation letter promptly.

The intervening days were a blur of new experiences - with the tens of millions wired to her after the kill she had everything she needed to experience Farport's highs and lows, going from dive to dive (with the occasional easy contract killing spaced inbetween) and discovering new lifeforms as only a formshifter could. It didn't quite compare to the majestic Dyson flora and zero gravity decadence of her long departed home in the comet fields of Quevak, but after the last two years she hardly cared. She slept deeply the night before the mission - for a mission this exciting she didn't want anything keeping she didn't want anything keeping her back from 100% performance.

Outlands

Amar Sian did the closest approximation to a grin that her gelatinous, vaguely feminine form could manage as the woman hit the barrier, barely suppressing her excitement even through the focusing drive of her suit's tactical auto-medication. She'd seen remnants of reality breaks in Gamma before, but never anything this open and complete. Amar followed the short girl through the gate, PDW at the ready.

[A m e n r i a]

Before Patrick could nudge anyone into going in first, some human bozo did it first. Chuckling at the stupidity and overconfidence of his supposed colleague and the thin girl that seemed so eager to step inside this giant deathtrap, the penguin just shook his head and waddled inside.

[The Eridani Imperium]

“Come along, the ruin’s fine,” he announced to the others. Having to speak on mission was annoying. “If all the traps are like this, we’ll be done by evening.”

"Come say that to me when the draugr chase you out, lad." Serrin nodded. He gave Auren a soft smile before putting on his helmet, activating the hermetic seal. his visor glinting in the sunlight, the trooper reached back for his railgun, ensuring that his power axe was securely attached to his belt. He then inspected the ruins, taking out an encoder and scanning the inscriptions into his database.

He then stepped forward to the barrier, holding out a hand. As Serrin expected, the magic tried to resist him. "Athmer! Ne Ehlin!"

At those words, the barrier immediately dropped, letting him past.

[Reixia]

The tunnel changed as they walked down it. The bare stone of a cave gradually gave way to carved blocks. But the stone had not been decorated. It had been left untouched. As they walked, they eventually reached the point where the green light of day did not reach them. There was only a faint glimmer of light ahead of them, deep within the bowels of Alai Crost. But as they walked on, the light began to grow brighter.

Eventually, they reached the central cave. Here was all the decoration that the tunnel had lacked was present. Runes covered every wall and the ceiling itself. Some of them glowed silver and gold, others red, green, blue and yellow. The twisting curves that were the Five Court's banner seemed to predominate. As they walked onto the floor, lights appeared at each corner of the room. Red, green, blue and yellow. The lights spiralled inwards, coursing under their feet, reaching a stone altar in the middle.

Lying on the altar was a leather case. The air around them was pregnant with anticipation. Something seemed to be watching them. But it wasn't malevolent. Far from it.

Attempting to go towards the aged leather on the altar caused the air to thicken markedly. Strange words and signs would appear at the edge of consciousness. Warning them away from the book.