Aetheral Space-Chapter 446:14.20: A World of Shooting Stars

09:22

(yesterday)

The café was fairly quiet this early in the day, the only occupants being the elderly -- and vitally, deaf -- owner, his tardigrade hanging from the ceiling for a snooze, and a few customers sitting by the windows. The orange glow of Azum-Ha’s dawn trickled through the glass. Two patrons in particular sat back-to-back at neighbouring tables, their eyes fixed straight ahead, their words deciding the future.

The first was a nondescript man who took pains to remain nondescript, with short black hair and a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles. He adjusted his tie with one hand and sipped his coffee with the other. A Yugrun blend. It tasted like nothing.

Appointment.

The second, to the ignorant eye, was a young woman with fluffy white hair -- cold blue eyes gazing deep into the whirlpool of caffeine clutched between her hands. The slightest smirk tugged at her lips as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. North’s holograms really made disguising oneself so convenient.

Dragan Hadrien.

"Tonight," he said to the man behind him. "I’m going to win the Dawn Contest."

"You seem pretty certain about that," Appointment murmured back, scrolling through the news on his wrist bound script.

"My victory is guaranteed," he replied casually. "I’m not going to get any further into it than that. But once I win, there will be a Banquet. That’s why you’ve come back home to Azum-Ha, right?"

"Is that the purpose of this meeting?" Appointment asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You want to make sure I’ll participate? That’s not something you have to worry about, if so."

"No," Dragan shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. "I’d like to talk to you ahead of the Banquet… and hire you for a mission of your own."

Appointment blinked. "I’m listening."

Dragan sipped his coffee. "You’ll participate in the Banquet as expected. Feel free to take out any of the targets and receive your reward per the official announcement."

"But?"

"But Atoy Muzazi gets off Azum-Ha alive," Dragan said coldly. "You do whatever you need to to make that happen. Understand?"

If the request seemed strange to Appointment, the consummate professional didn’t show it. "What’s the pay?" he asked.

"How much did that suit of yours cost?"

"Confidential."

"Whatever it is, I’ll triple it."

That, at least, made Appointment’s lips quirk up into a smile. "You realize, of course, that all this only means anything if you do win the Dawn Contest."

"Like I said… my victory is guaranteed."

"And if it isn’t?"

For the first time, Dragan looked at the other man, turning his head slightly over his shoulder.

"It won’t happen," he said seriously. "But… if, somehow, I did lose… I’d just ask you to be gentle when you’re blowing my head off."

03:58

(earlier today)

It was funny.

Looking at ’Azez the Absolute’, Dragan hadn’t quite been able to reconcile the conqueror of legend with the slight and somewhat meek man before him. This guy had founded the Supremacy? This guy had waged war against the entire galaxy?

Dragan almost hadn’t been able to believe it.

It was only when he finished explaining his plans… only when he looked into the fiery glare that the projection was pointing at him… that Dragan understood.

Ah, Dragan thought ruefully. There you are… my Supreme.

"What?" Azez hissed, his face a blank mask of vanquished fury.

"Did you not understand?" Dragan asked, hopping onto one of the caskets and using it as a seat. "I thought I went pretty in-depth on my plans. Which part do you want me to go over again? Or should I just simplify the whole idea?"

Azez didn’t answer. He just glared with the venom of God.

Dragan, for his part, smiled. "Maybe you’ll understand it better this way," he said breathlessly, almost giggling. "I’m going to drive your Supremacy into the ground."

The glare intensified.

"I’m going to mutilate it," he continued.

If looks could kill, Dragan would have been a blast shadow. But still…

He grinned. "I’m going to make it destroy itself so badly that nobody can ever put it back together again. Hey, maybe we can bury it down here with you?"

The anger being projected by Azez’s facsimile was such that his appearance was flickering in and out -- his black framework and shining Lantern of Truth visible for a few moments at a time. If Dragan thought this thing was capable of attacking the Supreme, maybe he would have held his tongue. But no…

…all this long-dead bastard could do was seethe.

"Fine," Azez spat, embers flying from his mouth. "You just try."

And with that, his image was gone -- replaced by a ball of smokeless fire that rushed off into the darkness. Dragan sat there, watching the globe shrink into a pinprick, and the pinprick fade into nothing. That was a shame. He’d hoped to rub it into the First Supreme’s face a little more. It wasn’t like he could show his own face while all this chaos was going on, anyway. Some form of entertainment for the next fifteen hours would have been nice.

It would have been a consolation, at least.

After all…

Dragan clenched his fists, and let out a shaking breath.

…if he was going to beat this world into a new shape, he couldn’t hope to come out of it intact.

00:03

"So," said Wu Ming, watching the starship disappear into the night. "Why didn’t you go with them, bud?"

He was still missing most of his body -- the Black Dog really had done a number on him -- but the Clown of the Supremacy had managed to snugly wrap himself onto a freestanding wall with his strings. Sighing fondly as the light of the vessel -- and of that tremendous attack -- finally faded, he looked down at the other man.

"Hey, you still listening?" he asked. "Oh! Did you die? I mean, I guess either one is pretty plausible, looking at you."

Unlike Wu Ming, Nael Manron still had all of his limbs, but the hole that his own weapon had blasted through his body surely didn’t bode well for his health. Morgan’s new healing ability had helped out a little, and the ever-generous Wu Ming had used Dr. Stitches to pull Manron further out of the woods… but still, he’d hate to be that guy!

"Do you ever shut up?" Manron grunted. His face was still in the dirt, even as his dull red eyes watched the spot where the starship had been.

"Nope." Wu Ming grinned, his own eyes twinkling. "Besides, you haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t you go with them?"

"You say that like I had a ticket."

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"Oh, come on," Wu Ming laughed. "I saw you, you know. Dragging yourself around and hiding so ol’ Morgan couldn’t find you. What’s the deal?

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For a moment, Manron offered no reply. Then: "That Muzazi asshole got away. That’s the end of my business with him. As soon as I’m back on my feet… I’m going home."

"Ah," Wu Ming nodded sagely. "Well, that sounds nice. Yeah, a real ten-outta-ten retirement plan. Only… you might want to go hiding again real quick."

Nael shot him a quizzical glare. "Why?"

Wu Ming chuckled uneasily as he looked up into the sky. "It’s just… well, it looks like my retirement plans have been made for me."

There were five dots in the sky, floating high above the urban wasteland -- finally having gained access following the canopy’s collapse. Well, they were probably dots to most people, but Wu Ming’s infused eyes could see them clearly -- human figures, holding various bladed weapons, clad in traditional Supremacy garb.

He could see the leader of those dots, too. Xander Rain, staring right back at Wu Ming from across that incredible distance. His lips moved.

Take him.

When they found Gretchen Hail, she was on her knees.

The members of the Tree of Might couldn’t make any sense of the scene. The famous -- and believed to be dead -- blacksmith collapsed on the floor, broken armour strewn around her, looking down at a shattered husk of what looked like emerald. Even as the warriors approached, she didn’t move.

She just stared, tears carving trails through the ash on her face, as they took her in.

As she was loaded for transport, she didn’t say a word.

Bastardborn’s explosion had finally finished off the Alyn Grace Memorial Shopping Centre.

The sheer force of the blast had broken through the stabilization provided by Untoward, and the building had collapsed into a burning pile of rubble among so many others. Soot rained down from the sky like a burning blizzard. If not for that woman’s armour, Mereloco had no doubt he’d have been reduced to ash himself just from being near the explosion -- even with its protection, his body was burnt and battered.

And yet…

"How…?" Mereloco growled, collapsing to one knee. "How are you still alive?!"

His enemy stood at the top of this hill of shattered steel, utterly unscathed, his lips spread into a slight smile. Even the injuries Mereloco had inflicted during their original bout had vanished. Hell, even the bastard’s cloak looked brand new.

"There’s no reason for me to tell you that," the young man said, his gaze dark and merciless.

Mereloco went to stand up, to continue the fight… but even without that explosion, he had pushed himself far beyond his limits this night -- especially considering his lingering injuries from the Dawn Contest.

His body would no longer obey his commands. All he could do was collapse to the ground, clutch his side, and glare as his enemy slowly descended towards him.

So… this was what a finishing blow looked like. It looked so different from this angle.

He could tell from this guy’s smile, too. He thought he’d already won. That was why it was so satisfying when he took one more step… and stopped, the smile fading from his face.

"I see," the young man murmured. "A bubble of intensified gravity, pushing away from yourself?"

Mereloco said nothing.

The man sighed. "It’s a shame. I’d love to finish you off, but Smith is telling me the Tree of Might is moving in. I’ve got other business to take care of, and it’d take way too long to kill you right now, haha. You’re a lucky guy -- you know that, right?"

And just like that, like they were just two friends having a casual chat, the man turned and began to walk away.

Mereloco watched him go with narrowed, suspicious eyes… and kept watch long after he had vanished. He would not be caught by surprise. It was only as the Tree of Might finally breached the ruins of the hangar that Mereloco finally passed out…

… and Unchained finally let go.

Aclima choked.

For her, this battlefield had become nothing but a maelstrom of chaos and misery. She’d been tossed off that building by the monster hunting her, then some massive white giant had started to destroy the city, and now everything was being consumed by hellfire. She’d been running between split-second shelters, barely avoiding death all the while.

She held a ragged cloth to her mouth, torn from her filthy red coat, as she tried to find a way to escape the inferno. No good, no good, no good. The collapsed building she’d been hiding out in was surrounded on all sides by a sea of flames.

Behind her, before her, above her… there was no escape. The white feathers were falling like incendiary snowflakes. This was it. This was it. After all this misery, all this betrayal, she was just going to smolder in the gutter like a piece of trash.

She was…

She was…

She was…

She didn’t know who exactly she was talking to, but she whispered it anyway.

"Please…" she begged, eyes squeezed shut, bitter tears streaming down. "Save me…"

…

…

…

"Okay."

Before Aclima could even open her eyes at the sound of that calm voice, a burst of vicious wind blew through the area, extinguishing all the flames around her instantly. She was sent flying a little too, landing on her backside and adding to her aches and pains. She scrambled backwards as she looked up at the face of the one who had rescued her.

She didn’t know him. She didn’t know this cloaked young man with black straight hair and eyes as dark as ink. She didn’t know the smile he gave her, either.

It didn’t feel like it came from a person.

"Hi there," her rescuer said pleasantly. "From one Heir to another… why don’t you and I become friends?"

The nameless starship took its cargo out through the atmosphere of Azum-Ha, blending in with the innumerable swarms of civilian traffic streaming out of the planet. With the Dawn Contest at an end, the galaxy was heading home. Anyone could slip between the cracks in such a situation -- especially if they were actively trying to do so.

Whoever had set up their escape route had done so thoroughly -- Ruth barely needed to do anything when it came to the autopilot. So, in the end, she just sat there in the cockpit, watching the lights of other ships flitting through the darkness. Idly, she turned over what she’d found in her hands.

It must have gone flying into her clothes during the battle back in the hangar. A chip of black metal, still warm to the touch. She couldn’t know for sure where it had come from… but she knew. It had come from that shield.

It had come from Rufus von Frostburn, who had taken a lethal blow for her without hesitation.

"It was going to hit you."

She turned it over in her hands, and she thought.

I’ll show you. I’ll show you that people can be good… that they’re not how you think.

She turned it over in her hands… and she thought.

When Aguta finally woke back up on the starship’s sickbed, he had only one thing to ask.

"Where’s Rufus?"

To his credit, it didn’t take very much for him to figure it out. An awkward silence, and an inability to meet his gaze. Those served as twin death knells, and he slowly closed his eyes.

"I see," he murmured, his stoic demeanour just the slightest bit strained.

Morgan and Muzazi sat beside him in the sickbay, their faces crestfallen. The rush of making it off of Azum-Ha had faded… to be replaced by exhaustion from their final hurdles, and the regret of all they had left behind. The silence pressed its fingers against them in that tiny room.

"Do you know why Mereloco wanted to help us?" Morgan finally asked.

Muzazi shook his head. "He didn’t say."

"You didn’t ask?"

"I did ask," Muzazi replied. "But… I don’t think I understood his answer. What about… Wu Ming? He was definitely there too?"

Morgan nodded. "I saw his Aether, and I went to get his help against the Hive -- but things got kinda wild. Nael Manron showed up, and we were fighting this thing together, but… by the time it was all over… there was nothing I could do but get back over here."

Muzazi nodded back -- more from absence of anything else to do -- his head wobbling like a bobblehead. He glanced at Aguta. Nebula Two hadn’t said much since helping them set up their flight-path.

"We checked the ship over," he said, grasping for any information to provide. "As far as we can tell, that villain hadn’t planted any bugs or traps. It seems he’d only just infiltrated the hangar by the time we arrived."

Aguta closed his eyes, slowly nodding. "Check it again," he said. "You never know."

"We will," Muzazi replied. "We’ll… I’ll have it done. What happens now?"

"This starship will get us to the border -- one of the borderworlds, Xocotl. From there, a smuggler will get us into UAP space. From there… well, hopefully, it’ll be a straight shot to Serendipity."

"Hopefully," Morgan mumbled, not sounding very hopeful at all. "What if the Supremacy keeps coming after us?"

"I can see that happening," Aguta admitted, opening his eyes and looking up at the ceiling. "But it won’t be nearly as bad. Needless to say, we won’t have to worry about Appointment going forward. If what you told me about the battle is true, I’d say the Hive of Malkuth has been wounded, too. They’ll be focused on rebuilding their strength, not pursuing us. As for the other bounty hunters, or the Sixth Dead… well, I doubt they’ll have better tracking than those first two, so we should be able to make it to the border without them catching up."

"And then?" Morgan asked.

"I’ve already received confirmation that the UAP is willing to accept your asylum -- you two, I mean. The others… well, I suppose they’ll be free to do as they please."

Muzazi nodded. "I see."

For a few seconds, it looked like Aguta was going to go further into it… but then he just closed his eyes again and lay back on the bed. "Those checks," he murmured. "Spare no effort."

After exchanging a glance with Morgan, Muzazi sighed and planted his hands on his legs as he stood up. "The del Sed’s have some expertise with ship repair, from what I understand. I’ll see if they’ve woken up and ask them to assist."

He took a step back -- and bumped into the person suddenly standing behind him.

"Damn," said Gregori Hazzard. "You really don’t let your guard down, huh?"

It had been a long day.

For the last twenty hours, Muzazi had constantly feared for his life. He had fought, and he had killed, and he had bled. The faint fumes of adrenaline had run dry long ago, and even the sheer will that had allowed him to keep going after that had begun to falter. His last legs lay broken on the path far behind him.

Indeed, it had been a very long day.

So… what should have taken him one second, instead took two.

Atoy Muzazi felt Gregori’s blade carve through his throat.

END OF ARC 14