[AP] PRODIGAL SON, A Rogue's Tale - Book II

[Olterin]

Good luck, Scion, hang in there! And don't do anything ... inconsiderate - we can wait

[Sirrobert]

Happy new year!

[Annette Barret]

Hey Scion.

You don't like me, that I've got.

So, would it hurt you to believe I wish you well?

[Scion Drakhar]

Hey Scion.

You don't like me, that I've got.

So, would it hurt you to believe I wish you well?

I do not dislike you, Shaun. I've told you this many times. I think it is good that you are talking to someone. I believe you should continue to do so. Perhaps in time you will feel comfortable enough with yourself to put aside the masks. I hope so.

You know there is a word in Sanskrit that I believe applies here. The word is "rakshasa". One translation of the word is "demon", but there is another that I find relevant: "the guardian of our freedom". On the one hand the rakshasa plagues us with fears and doubts and all sorts of anguish that keeps us prisoner within our own minds, but once we face the demon and see it for what it is, then the spell is broken, the illusion vanishes, and we are free.

I wish you freedom, Shaun, and peace.

[Annette Barret]

Interesting thought.

Here's another.

Peace comes only at terrible cost.

Better one.

Happy New year.

Gotcha.

[Sirrobert]

Hee, quick question to Scion (or whoever is taking care of the PDF)

Is there an up to date version of the Prodigal Son PDF?
I wanted to reread the entire thing, but it's missing quite a few chapters. Could just read the things in the thread of course, but that's quite a hassle

[Scion Drakhar]

Sirrobert,

sorry but I haven't updated the PDF in some time. For now you'll have to suffer through the forum thread.

[jimlpearce]

Wow. It's been a while!! Awesome work Scion.. Glad to see the saga continues.. And that the Black Queen is still kicking around Hope all goes well in your move into a new tranquil life. Looking forward to more updates when you do. Take care Brother

[Sirrobert]

Shame.
You still holding up fine Scion?

[hierax]

Hello Scion, I hope all is well with you and that everything is on the up and up. You have said that things have been difficult but I wanted you to know that regardless of whatever it is, and I think I am speaking for everybody on here when I say this, we are rooting for you.

Further, you have some fans.

Best of luck!!

[Scion Drakhar]

Thanks guys. I really do appreciate the sentiments.

I'm afraid I can't tell you when the next post will be ready. I have some of it written already but it's far from finished. I've been having a lot of trouble concentrating lately. Hopefully after the move in August I will be in a much more quiet, less industrial, less polluted area where I can actually leave the house and go for walks without getting migraines. Once that happens I expect both the fresh air and resultant exercise to make a huge difference in my clarity and ability to concentrate. Until then I'm simply hanging in and trying not to lose my mind.

So, once again, thank you for your thoughts and well wishes.

[Triaxx2]

Not a problem. Don't worry, we'll still be here when you're ready.

[BlackArchon]

Hi Scion,

I'm really enjoying reading your stories! You surely have a talent for writing.

Currently I'm reading chapter 48 where you describe Weasel as a male Teladi from Ianamus Zura. In the five official X novels from Helge Kautz the male Teladi are described as completely uninterested in profit, but with a burning interest for creating aesthetic art. They are artisans, painters and sculptors - in short, very skilled artists. The female, profit-oriented Teladi are quite awkward for them.

[Sirrobert]

Hi Scion,

I'm really enjoying reading your stories! You surely have a talent for writing.

Currently I'm reading chapter 48 where you describe Weasel as a male Teladi from Ianamus Zura. In the five official X novels from Helge Kautz the male Teladi are described as completely uninterested in profit, but with a burning interest for creating aesthetic art. They are artisans, painters and sculptors - in short, very skilled artists. The female, profit-oriented Teladi are quite awkward for them.

In a funny way Weasel isn't that interested in profit. He considers his scamming people an art form

[Triaxx2]

Weasel is probably the best to explain:

It issss true that the vasssst majority of my sssspeciessss are profit mongering femalessss. Greedy, ssssneaky, disssshonesssst, lovely femalessss.

There are thosssse sssspeciessss who ssssee that we rarely leave our home world and believe that we are being dissssenfranchissssed. Nossssy humans. But even the worsssst of them quit when they realize we have the power. Law preventssss more than one clone active at a time. Thosssse who wish to expand their clan, musssst mate. And thosssse musssst make an appointment.

I am one of the few of ussss who have left our homeworld. Thosssse few otherssss travel for the ssssake of their art. Assss do I. I travel for the art of learning what otherssss would keep hidden away. Humanssss, Argon and Terran alike would ssssay that masssstery of Poker issss to win at any time. But true masssstery is to losssse at will, without appearing to throw the game. Win to become interesting. Losssse to become sympathetic. Learn what they comisssserate with a failure over. Read what is not said to know the rest. Alwayssss buy the firsssst round. But let them drink more than they should. Extracting information issss assss much art assss science.

And a few femalessss don't have time to trek back to the homeworld to mate. And I am alwayssss willing to negotiate a vissssit.

[Sirrobert]

And a few femalessss don't have time to trek back to the homeworld to mate. And I am alwayssss willing to negotiate a vissssit.

Winning

[Song Of Obsidian]

Weasel knows himself quite well. Practice from many(short) generations, no doubt.


TL;DR - Weasel's cool but sometimes we accept mistakes or possible mistakes for the sake of sanity.

BlackArchon, the other thing to keep in mind is that the game's lore isn't all that accessible. I personally don't know as much of it as I'd like. Some of it from different sources also isn't even consistent. So once you start writing, and especially if you've gotten as invested in a story like Scion's, it's just impossible to go back and 'fix' it once you do learn that you made a mistake.

I don't think a mistake was made with Weasel. His creator is brilliant enough to make the story work, though whether or not he planned it that way initially is open for debate. He does seem to have a penchant for spurning stereotypes.

However, there are other areas in about every story written here that don't match the lore. I read somewhere that Split names are surname first, which isn't how any of our writers have been doing it. It could be wrong for all I know. And Scion and I were also trying to figure out if the Argon president is Ban Danna or Frann Herron, a minor detail that's only minor if you don't intend to include them somewhere in your story. I only started playing this series with Terran Conflict, so I don't know if the in-game encyclopedia is updated at all. I'm actually going to stop there, because little details like this have been frustrating to me as an insufferable perfectionist and I don't want to start ranting.

That said, it can often be nice to have others around to pay attention to details so we don't have to

[Triaxx2]

I rarely make a 'mistake'. Instead I make contributions, for example, the mention in Weasels reply of the law prohibiting multiple active clones. Whether it existed before or not, now it's been added into the mix. Now I can grab it, and use it again, provided I remember it. If not, it's just a throw away that means nothing.

As for Weasel, I was aware that male Teladi were rarely seen, though not the why. I added him in, because I figured Drake would be gathering unconventional figures to himself, and that if there were any male Teladi floating about, one of them would turn up. We just happened to get stuck with Weasel.

I figure that Split have those names, but they're purposely reversing them so humans don't get confused. Then again, according to the lore, we should all be writing these posts in Japanese. So I take any discrepancies between the stories I write or am writing for, and the lore of the game world as being specific to that story. As if the local differences caused that story to occur.

In the lore, Argon Prime is a golden city. In this, it's a gold plated planet, with a rotten core, and that changed the narrative enough to let a skinny kid from the underbelly of the city to reach heights barely dreamed of. He may have grown up hearing stories of a Split Mad-man butchering his way through the Boron, crushing shipyards as he went. Of internal conflicts amongst the Split, and the scape goating of a captain. Perhaps the terror of the Terrans as the hero from the first three games brought them amidst the Commonwealth.

As for presidents, I figure they may have elections, but no term limits, and Ban Danna keeps getting re-elected after they try someone who doesn't have a clue what they're doing.

[Sirrobert]

There's of course an advantage to the fact that noone actually knows the full lore.

When there's confusion between options, you can just say how it is in your story, and that's how it is in your universe.
Games like this give you a foundation, but they make you build your own story. We're just going a little further than usual in this case, but still well within that basis

[Scion Drakhar]

73. The Quiet and an Unexpected Gift


After Sal went to bed I had nothin' but my thoughts for company. I run my ships on a conventional twenty four hour schedule and where there's always someone mannin' the various watches that need mannin', the daytime hours tend to be busier and more active. By contrast the nights are dim and quiet, and it's easy to start feelin' alone in the dark. And since the meetin' with the Yaki isn't scheduled until nearly twelve hundred that left me with quite a few hours to fill and my thoughts tend to be very poor company.

So, not wantin' to give my mind any opportunity to drift into the darker places of my soul, I decided to occupy myself by takin' care of the business and administrative duties that I... ahem... tend to ignore whenever I can get away with it. I placed an order at the shipyard in Rhonkar's Might and bought twenty more of those drake heavy freighters that I've decided I like so much, and had 'em outfitted with as much gear as possible. The Split were able to upgrade their engines, steering, and cargo holds and, of course, were able to install all the combat and navigational software I could ask for, but I needed to send 'em to the Teladi for the necessary trading software and extensions. Fortunately their shieldin' came standard but it was necessary to send a couple of my "fetch" freighters on a rather lengthy hunt for the guns, and in the end I had to supply the medium weapons complexes in Rhonkar's Trial and Ghinn's escape to make 'em produce the equipment I need. I'm still waiting on enough PBE's for the last two ships. So, I'm thinking that instead of drone fabs I may build PBE forges. In any case, I've sent orders to the next twenty of my most senior traders tellin' 'em to make their way to the shipyard and take possession of their new ships. Their old freighters will be equipped with the mineral detection and ore collection hardware and special command software necessary to turn twenty of my old trading ships into drone miners.

I also bought twenty Susanowas from Thane and had 'em autopiloted to the new TLs. Then I sent the TLs to Distant Clouds to await the miners. The fighters are all but useless until Chinomu can provide me with competent pilots for 'em so I sent her a message informin' her of the expansion of her duties and the new rosters she'll need to fill a few hours ago. I expect a scathing reply from her any time now. In the meantime, though, I arranged for Kayla Lehane and the Nyx to act as the operation's guardian. Getting her there required pairin' her with a freighter to tank off of, as that Skiron needed to offload some equipment and then make three jumps in order to get to Distant Clouds. Once there she was fully armed again and the remainder of that tanker's energy cells were transferred to the Mobile Pirate Base. The tanker itself, piloted by one of my CLS logisticians, was then assigned to the operation and will henceforth be ferryin' rocks around Distant Clouds. So Kayla and the Nyx are now there, patrollin' the sector as the lone big fish in a relatively small pond.

That all took a few hours and by then my clock read zero five hundred. Since my traders were all still workin' on a change of address and performin' their own little dance of musical ships, I decided to prep the sector myself and jumped down in the Predator. The goal was to turn big rocks into little rocks. Three hammerhead missiles and some rather enjoyable flyin' in my Tenjin resulted in all three of the sector's Nividium rich asteroids bein' reduced to bite sized rubble. Now I'm just waitin' on my small army of minin' ships to arrive and begin collectin' and processin' the nividium from the mess.

Unfortunately the whole exercise didn't take very much time and I was once again lookin' for ways to fill the hours until the meetin' with the Yaki council. So I combined the delivery of more jump fuel with the arrival of another of my previously bored and overpaid CLS pilots. The first accompanied Kayla and the Nyx, the second topped off the Predator's tanks and then added some more fuel to the reserve to be kept in the Mobile Pirate Base, which will henceforth be the Headquarters for the Drakhar Enterprises Distant Clouds Mining Company.

I named it "Tartarus".

My goal, while settin' up the operation, was to make it almost entirely automated. As each of my experienced traders vacated their ships I sent their old mistrals or mercuries or what have you down to the equipment dock in Company Pride for all the hard and software necessary to turn 'em into automated minin' drones. Yeah, for some reason the Split don't sell minin' equipment. But the Teladi do, and despite suspectin' me of stealin' a few ships from Grand Exchange the other day, are more than willin' to make a few buckzoids off me. So, once the old ships were ready I had 'em jump down to Distant Clouds, where they were then set to the task of collectin' and extractin' Nividium from the rubble I made of those asteroids. Once all twenty were busy bein' busy little bees, harvestin' that oh so valuable stone pollen from all these little stone flowers, I began to construct the duties for my two CLS pilots. The first one is tasked with collectin' nividium from the holds of the miners themselves and deliverin' it to the "Tartarus", the Minin' HQ ship, which will act both as a general catch-all and supply depot for the ships in the sector as well as a buffer for my imitation Mammoth, which I've named "Sisyphus", cos apparently I think I'm clever and funny. The other CLS freighter is then tasked with movin' the nividium from the Mining HQ to my appropriately named Hauler, which will deliver its boulder to the top of the mount in Senator's Badlands before returnin' to Distant Clouds to do it all over again.

The idea here is that the collection of nividium won't ever have to stop. There are several buffers that would all have to fill up before the miners themselves stop workin': the hold of Sisyphus the Hauler, which is fairly capacious at sixty thousand units, then the hold of Tarturus, the Mobile HQ, which at over forty thousand units is also rather expansive, the holds of the two CLS freighters, and finally the holds of the drone freighters themselves. Since I doubt I'll ever ignore the operation long enough for all of that to happen I expect the miners to keep workin' pretty much until they break. So once Sisyphus gets full all I'll have to do is tell the second CLS freighter to take a break while the Hauler delivers all that precious mineral booty to Thane, where it will then be offloaded and make me a not-so-small fortune. After which the Mammoth returns to Distant Clouds, the second CLS freighter goes back to work and so on and so forth. The only time I'll have to get involved is when deliverin' the Nividium to Thane, which isn't so bad, cos that's when I get paid.

So, now it's zero seven hundred and all of the orders have been given. It's still a very understaffed operation. I want marines on those TLs in case anybody gets any ideas. I want pilots for those fighters. I wouldn't mind some kind of overseer down there to make sure nothin' goes wrong. Right now I've just got Legion and a bunch of robot ships, which is great and all, but sometimes I get a little nervous with how much I've come to rely on my friend the Artificial General Intelligence.

Meh. Either way, it's up and runnin'. Sort of.

********

I just got Chinomu's reply. It took me a little while to realize that she intends to set up another trainin' platform down in Distant Shores. At first I didn't understand why she'd want to go and do that but after several messages back and forth she managed to explain to me that it would be more efficient. I still don't understand most of her reasonin' but, well, I figure this is why I hired her in the first place. She produces good pilots and good results. Well, that and my other option was to have her shot. So I didn't argue. Instead I gave her a raise, doubled her budget, and told her to do whatever she needs to do to get my planes in the sky. After that she stopped complainin'. I get the impression she's still thinkin' nasty things at me but I'm alright with that.

Right. So, with the first of what might be several nividium minin' operations in place I turned to the next order of the day... namely survivin' it.

God, I miss Rana. After havin' an executive assistant not havin' one is decidedly awkward, and Rana was really good at the job. I mean at this point Seldon and Kao t'Kt are practically family, but neither of them have the same head on their shoulders that Rana did. Kao will happily storm a Terran destroyer or rip someone's arms off for me but managin' the thousand and one details of my day to day affairs? Yeah... no. And Seldon? Well, that'd be another no. It's not that I think she couldn't do it, it's just not the right fit. So for the most part I've been... err... relyin' on Legion. And don't get me wrong, I love the... err... guy, and he's often got some amazin' insight and very useful suggestions, but sometimes I just really miss how Rana could alternate between readin' my mind and tellin' me how full of shit I am.

Aah, hell... or maybe I just miss Rana.

Anyway, I'm expectin' Seldon and Kao t'Kt here any moment to discuss security on the shipyard and I really need to hit the head. So more later.

********

Seldon yawned. She hadn't slept well. It wasn't that the Predator's barracks were uncomfortable. On the contrary, the griffin sentinel was made by human engineers for a human crew. They were softer, of gentler proportions and angles, and more accommodating to both the human form and psyche than the Necromancer, a Kariudo designed by an engineering team composed of an amalgamation of races for the Yaki. So it was not the ship to blame, rather it was her mind that denied her peace. While lying awake in the dark she spent nearly a stazura (4.35 hours) obsessing over her reaction to Cornell's sudden interest in moving in together while memories of Chinomu wove their way through her thoughts. And all the while she heard Drake's voice in her head.

'What do you want?' he asked, over and over again. The uncomfortable truth was that she didn't know. It wasn't a subject she'd ever given much thought to. Eventually she concluded that it was just to be herself and not hurt the people she cared about while doing it.

Drake wasn't done, though. 'Seldon,' he told her, sounding old and weary and more than a little put-upon, 'if you keep doin' the same thing you're gonna keep gettin' the same result. If you don't like the result then do somethin' different.'

Yeah. Well. Okay. But what? What was she doing that kept resulting in her partners wanting more from her than she was willing to give? And why did she always feel guilty about it? What, exactly, should she be doing differently? She didn't make promises. She didn't ask for or offer anything beyond the next afternoon or evening or night spent together. She certainly didn't make any commitments. She merely liked who she liked, loved who she loved, and let whatever happen, happen.

And it was always a mess.

She sighed heavily. To her right Kao t'Kt turned his massive head to glance at her from the corner of one eye that was the exact same color as a propane-flame. His attention instantly annoyed her. She snorted her irritation and waved him away. They were both sat in Drake's office aboard the Predator, making plans for conducting his security aboard the shipyard. On the other side of his desk Drake was currently speaking with both S'jar t'Chk, who Seldon found mildly repulsive, and Thane, who she wasn't sure about. She found the big man more than a little intimidating yet also happened to be uncomfortably attracted to. Thane was big, hairy, scarred, and ugly in all the right ways. He had a deep, massive voice that made people jump when he raised it, which he apparently enjoyed doing. He had a big, booming laugh that made her insides feel loose and a scowl that made her feel just a little bit giggly. In other words he was just her type. He was, in fact, practically the epitome of her type and she kept finding herself wondering what he smelled like, what his hair and beard would feel like, what it would be like to fight with him and what it might be like to make up afterward... and once again she found herself squirming inside herself as confusion, guilt, and frustration all wrestled for dominance within her.

"Should I be worried?" Drake asked the two men over the wireless. To Seldon and Kao t'Kt, who were sitting on the wrong side of the holo-screen, both men appeared as mirror images of themselves.

"Yes," Thane answered immediately. The big man was on the shipyard, looming twenty kilometers above the Predator's starboard bow.

"Well it depends," S'jar t'Chk replied simultaneously. Drake and Thane both turned their attention to him. T'Chk was amusing himself by throwing knives at something off camera, something that sounded disturbingly like a human being wearing a ball gag. "How worried are you normally when you venture into a den of thieves and murderers?" T'Chk asked with a broad smile.

Drake's tongue found that tooth of his. He squinted and his right hand found the grip of the gun on his hip.

When no one said anything S'jar t'Chk looked at the camera and grinned. "Good answer!" he laughed. "Double that. No! Treble it. You don't want to panic or anything, but people will be trying to kill you."

"I see," Drake said, and glanced at his marines meaningfully. Kao t'Kt lifted his chin as if he'd just been given a challenge he intended to meet. Seldon sighed wearily and nodded reluctantly. It was going to be a long day.

"Huritas is going to be a nuisance," Thane rumbled. "Don't bother getting surprised or annoyed. Just be ready. She won't attend the meeting in person. It'll be easier to deny making attempts on your life if she remains on her ship..."

"It'll also make gettin' away easier should the verdict turn against her," Drake pointed out.

S'jar t'Chk grinned. "There you go, Drakey. Flex that head muscle."

Thane scowled. "Aye," he rumbled, "but don't make the mistake of thinking you've won, boy. Huritas has been at this a long time. She's got tricks up her sleeve that you've never even dreamed of."

"What do you expect?" Drake asked.

"Well," Thane thought about it. "She'll confuse the issue. She'll attack your arguments. She'll question your evidence, attack your motives, and paint you as the aggressor. She'll accuse you of all the things you're trying to prove she's been up to. She'll play on the favor she's earned over the centuries and then, if it starts to go against her, she'll begin to make threats. She holds a lot of sway with the councilors. She has leverage and isn't afraid to use it. And if all that fails... then she'll get nasty."

"Define nasty."

"A bomb," t'Chk giggled.

"Aye," Thane nodded, then looked away at something off camera and a faint smile softened his massive features. "Likely on a short range transmitter," he added, "so it can be detonated at just the right moment for the most dramatic effect. And if it doesn't kill you she'll try to blame you for it. She'll make a show and accuse you of trying to kill everyone in the hall."

"Of course there won't be many..." S'jar t'Chk commented airily. Drake raised an eyebrow at him and t'Chk grinned and shook his head. "The rest of us know what's coming, Drakey-boy."

"I take it she's done this before?"

"Oh, aye," Thane said, sounding distracted. He appeared to be struggling with something off camera, and whatever it was seemed to amuse him. Seldon thought she could hear a faint snarling. "And keep your wits about you, Drakhar! She likes misdirection. She's likely to start a fire on the station or something to pull security away. If something like that happens you watch your back. I recommend a personal force field, something that will stop poison darts."

"Of course, she might just attack your stations," S'jar t'Chk interjected. "By 'accident' of course."

"That would be inconvenient," Drake scowled.

S'jar t'Chk smiled. "She's done it before Drakey! Ooooh! Like that time she flew a freighter full of squash mines into that weapons complex in LooManckStrat's Legacy! What was the name of that Split? I can't remember. Anyway. It was her way of letting him know that she didn't like the answer he gave to her ultimatum."

"Aye," Thane cut the other man off. "She's a vicious ****. Ruthless, cunning, and sadistic." The big man looked up and stared directly at the camera. To Seldon it felt like he was looking right at her, even though she knew he couldn't actually see her. "Are you sure you want to do this in person, boy? You know you can attend by holo-projection like the rest of 'em..."

"I won't hide from her," Drake growled. "She picked this fight. Well let her bring it. If she wants to kill me then I'll be right out in the open for her to try. Hell! If she attacks and I have enough evidence to prove it then I'll turn that into her death warrant."

S'jar t'Chk tittered and flipped a knife at something. Whatever it was squealed like a stuck pig. T'Chk bared his teeth in an expression that was pure evil.

Thane just sighed and shook his head. "Hot heads cool quickly without any blood to warm them, boy."

Drake arched an eyebrow at him. "You tellin' me to..."

"I'm telling you to be smart enough not to get yourself killed!" Thane thundered at him. "You're a golden goose!" He leveled a finger at the camera. "But if she kills you then I don't get what I want!"

"You know," Drake snarled back, "if everyone knows what she does then why not just deal with it? Kill her and be done with the problem!"

Thane and S'jar t'Chk both laughed. "Where do you think you are, boy!" Thane laughed. "You're among the Yaki! Self interest is the name of the game! Serving that interest with influence, blackmail, assassination! This is just the way things are done and if you look deep enough it's the way things are done all over! What?! You think just because it's common knowledge that Huritas is a sadistic **** that we should kill her?! What about you?!" Thane gestured at the image of S'jar t'Chk. "What about this psychotic prick?!" He asked and t'Chk cackled, sounding far from sane. "We're Yaki, boy! We of all people demand proof of our crimes!" He laughed from his belly. "It's a right! Is it not? How many times have you gotten away with something because no one could prove it was you? Or because you greased the right palms? No! We Yaki like it this way!"

"To be honest, Drakey-boy," S'jar t'Chk laughed, "no one does what you're doing. Most of the time disputes are resolved when one party has an-uhm... accident."

"That we had nothing to do with, of course," Thane rumbled.

"Huh," Drake growled angrily. "So this is all pointless? I should just go..."

Both men looked up at the tone in the kid's voice. "Go what?!" Thane asked pointedly. Both he and t'Chk leaned in closely to pay attention to Drake's answer.

Drake blinked and quickly looked from one to the other. His eyes narrowed. "Take a cold shower," he said warily. Both men smiled; S'jar t'Chk like an escapee from a lunatic asylum, Thane like an amused bear. "Right," Drake nodded. "So, what should I look for?"

"People trying to kill you," Thane stated, as if it were obvious. "It's my house so bombs and sabotage are my responsibility and I don't take my responsibility lightly, but Huritas is inventive. Oh, and be sure to bring people you trust to watch your back. You never know who might decide to accept a better offer."

Drake lifted his eyes to look at Kao and Seldon. A moment later he looked back at the screen. "Noted," he said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Thane said and looked the kid in the eye. "Talk good, Drakhar. Remember what I said about this day you've got planned. Think of it like holding a snake by the tail. It could turn and bite you if you're not careful." Something snarled off camera and tugged his right arm. "Alright! Alright!" Thane chuckled. Then looked back at the camera. "I have things to take care of if I'm gonna ensure that nobody kills you on my station. So do what you need to do and be here early."

"Understood," Drake said.

Thane's face disappeared, leaving S'jar t'Chk grinning at him. "Well, Drakey-boy, I'm very curious to see how today turns out. Aren't you?"

Drake grunted. "That's one way to put it."

S'jar t'Chk grinned and his eyes glittered. "How would you put it?"

"I have chores to take care of," Drake told him and S'jar t'Chk grinned.

"So be it," the madman purred almost lovingly. "Take care with your chores. See that you do them and they do not do you." His eyes grew wide and round. "I shall watch with bated breath and great interest."

"Uh-huh," Drake grunted.

S'jar t'Chk's grin flared for a moment, showing far too many teeth. An instant later the screen went dark and Drake looked up at Seldon and Kao t'Kt. "You both just got a raise," he told them seriously. "I'm doubling your salaries." He held up a finger. "But you don't get a single credit if somebody kills me."

Kao t'Kt rumbled with deep, huffing chuckles. Seldon rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are you sure about going down there?" She demanded. "Why don't you just attend via holo-projection like Thane suggested?"

"And how would that come across, do you think?"

"Like you're smart enough not to step in front of a bullet?" Seldon shrugged. "Seriously! Why don't you forget all about this crap and just find a way to board her flagship in some forgotten corner of the universe? Then we can kill her in peace without having to worry about this sideshow..."

"No," Kao t'Kt rumbled. His voice was so huge, and he spoke so rarely that both she and Drake turned to hear what he had to say out of shock as much as interest. "The Huruk'tar is correct," he said. "A display of dominance will go far to secure our assets and position. We tell all the Yaki that we are not to be trifled with."

"Exactly," Drake nodded and looked back to Seldon, who scoffed and rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth and he cut her off with a raised hand. "Like it or not I'm a politician now, which means one part statesman, one part circus conductor, and one part dancing clown. They have to see me. If I'm on that station and Huritas isn't then I come across as bold with righteous conviction..."

"Or as the idiot wearing a target on his back," she sniped.

"It's the right call, Tasha."

Seldon rolled her eyes again. "You say so..."

"I do," Drake stated, suddenly sounding hard and out of patience. Beside her Kao t'Kt nodded and Seldon felt the urge to punch the pair of them. "Besides," Drake continued, "Doc Boni is gonna be on that station all day. He's gonna have to be, to do what needs to be done, and I won't put him at risk while I cower on this ship."

Seldon gaped at him. "That's just stupid," she stated.

Drake blinked and glared at her.

"You'd happily eat that damn squid for dinner but you won't put him in danger while you remain safe?!"

Drake scowled at her for a moment and then, finally, sighed and rubbed his eyes. When he looked back he simply looked weary. "Did you know that Cala Ma has Queen Menalaus' ear? Or whatever they call it?"

"Huh?" Seldon didn't understand the point.

"Look," he said, "lets just call it a hunch. I've got this feelin' that if anythin' happens to Boni while I'm safe and sound on this ship Cala Ma will make sure I regret it."

"As opposed to NOT regretting it?" Seldon raised her eyebrows and let her eyes bore into the kid. "As in cos you can't!"

Drake scowled back at her. "Your concern is noted, Tasha. I'm still going down to that station. Your job is to keep me alive."

Seldon rolled her eyes. "Stupid, bloody, testosterone-induced boneheadness!" Seldon muttered. At Drake's expression she pointed a finger at him. "And you know it!"

********

Right. So anyway, after talkin' with Thane and t'Chk... and gettin' an earful from Seldon... I sent instructions to Ea't, F'ght and H'nt, tellin' 'em all to watch the stations carefully. In Weaver's Tempest it's very simple. Any ship that doesn't belong to me that gets anywhere near my stations is to be stopped. In Savage Spur the security is trickier. Nova Somnia does business with everyone and anyone. Even so I told H'nt to make sure to stop any ship with tons of explosives on board. Then I decided it was time to visit the Necromancer. I still have a few hours to kill and decided to brief H'nt personally. He asked me for an hour of my time and I believe that was several days ago. Also, as Legion keeps informin' me, Doctor Sol Jared is gettin' anxious. So I ordered the Predator up to Savage Spur so I could meet with both gentle...err... well, gentleman and honorable Split. In the meantime Seldon and Kao t'Kt are coordinatin' with Thane's security people to make sure nobody ends my miserable life today.

********

H'nt stood upon the black marble floor of the Necromancer's meeting room and waited upon his lord. Beyond the floor to ceiling HyperGlass windows the Predator maneuvered itself into a stationary position three kilometers off the Necromancer's port side. Beyond the small, dangerous frigate that Drake claimed for himself, the remnants of a failed planet loomed large and close before the endless black. It was a grim sight and filled him with a peculiar melancholy, as if a shadow had fallen across the world. Though unseen H'nt could feel the predators hunting the unwary in the dark, many of whom were his lord's customers. He deliberately avoided exploring either the sensation of melancholy or the moral implications of drawing prey into the dark for the Yaki to hunt. He was not prone to a troubled conscience or the superstitious leaps of disjointed logic. Evens so, this sense of foreboding troubled him. He'd felt much the same way before the Terran fleets struck Avarice.

The transporter pad lit up several paces away. A stream of blue particles coalesced into the glowing form and figure of his friend. A moment later the light faded and H'nt watched Drakhar quickly scan the room while his right hand hovered near the pistol on his thigh. A moment later Drake met his eye and H'nt bowed his head in the serkavi. Drake returned it, then bared his teeth in one of those strange human smiles. They clasped arms and H'nt was careful to avoid hurting his friend. Drake may have possessed a Split warrior's heart but he was still human and humans were unfortunately fragile.

"H'nt!"

"Huruk'tar!"

"I understand you had some unwanted visitors last night?"

H'nt waved that away as irrelevant. "Fools unworthy of the energy spent to destroy them."

Drake grunted noncommittally and held H'nt's gaze. H'nt scowled and waited. "Just be careful out here. They may just be cannon fodder," Drake mused, "but we should assume they have a purpose even so. I don't know what game Huritas is playin' but if I had to bet I'd lay money on her havin' a plan. So lets assume every pirate and hostile fighter that comes through that gate is a test, and that your every move is bein' both watched and recorded." Drake glanced through the windows at Nova Somnia as he spoke. "Thane tells me she's good at misdirection and S'jar t'Chk says she might try to hit the stations."

H'nt scowled.

Drake turned and met his eye. "Apparently she drove a freighter full of squash mines into a weapons complex in Loomanckstrat's Legacy."

H'nt's scowl deepened. He would need to position a scout by the gate to scan all ships on their way to the station.

"So stay frosty out here," Drake instructed him, "and watch for traps. If something looks like bait," Drake shook his head, "don't take it."

H'nt nodded.

"So," Drake changed the subject, "tell me. How is our guest?"

H'nt took a breath before answering. Just thirteen hours earlier Doctor Sol Jared had tried to walk right onto the ship's bridge to make his demands known. H'nt himself wasn't on the bridge at the time which meant the only thing Doctor Jared accomplished was nearly getting himself intimately acquainted with the use and effects of the marine's shock batons.

"Persistent," H'nt replied.

Drake raised an eyebrow at all that was left unsaid, then rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I suppose we better go see him then." He then faced the lid of the corridor they were walking through. "Legion?" he said.

"Yes, Drakhar," the ship responded.

"Where is Doctor Sol now?"

********

Thane took a bite of the pear in his hand and glared at the scene below him. The pear was sweet, ripe, and juicy enough to endanger the cleanliness of his beard. He kept a small orchard growing in one of the station's larger compartments. He thought of that compartment as 'The Park' and, in addition to being a place of serenity, it was also where he walked his dogs. He originally considered the fruit a perk but had since grown very fond of the apples, pears, peaches, and cherries that grew on his trees. He'd grown so fond of them, in fact, that he'd started planning the addition of a vegetable garden. He found that he very much enjoyed the idea of growing his own tomatoes, herbs, greens, and mushrooms. It was such a pleasant subject that it was easy to lose himself in, especially when the rest of his world was so ugly.

Five meters below his feet workers scuttled about on the mottled grey floor of a large, circular chamber. Thane knew the chamber was exactly fifty four point twenty seven meters in diameter at it's base, in deference to some Paranid neurosis or another. There were currently twenty seven massive grey thrones being moved and set around the hall's circumference. Each throne would stand on a daise two and a half meters above the main floor, and be framed by braziers which would cast the only light in the chamber when the council was in session. Segmented grey walls sloped inward as they rose and then curved to thrust back down in a massive spike from which a huge pendulum hung directly over the center of the floor, where the petitioner would stand. Behind and between every throne, great arcs of dark, blood red drapery hung the length of the walls. Even with the lights on and the fires out the chamber was impressive and imposing. When the lights were off and the fires lit the effect would imbue a collection of fools with power and authority they weren't entitled to while oppressing anyone they chose to give an audience to.

Thane took another bite of his pear. Fred whined from his left hip and Thane patted the big dog's shoulder. Once again he wondered if the boy would last or if he was just a flare burning high and bright before he fell.

"Aegan," he growled.

"Boss?" Aegan was one of the sharpest of the 'vicious little curs' that Thane employed.

"When they're done setting those chairs in place I want you to check each of those thrones with your own eyes," he said.

"Aye," Aegan, his chief of security, replied. "Will do, boss."

"I think this is gonna be a hot one," Thane rumbled, "so be on your bloody best behavior today."

"Aye," the other man nodded. "We'll be ready for her, Thane. Don't you worry."

"Huh!" Thane grunted, alarmed. "Don't worry, he says!" Thane turned and met the smaller man's eye. "I'll bet you ten thousand credits that bitch has a bomb on my station already! What do you say to that?!"

The other man opened his eyes wide. His lips parted but he made no sound.

Thane grunted and tore another bite from his pear, then tossed the core to his dogs who snarled and fought over the prize. Thane turned back to the council chamber beyond the glass. "I WANT you to worry, Aegan! Worry plenty! That boy is coming here today to ask the council for permission to KILL that scaly bitch, and Huritas KNOWS IT! So buckle up, boyo, cause I think we're in for one hell of a ride."

********

Seldon took a breath and stared at the clothes hanging in her locker. The bench beneath her was hard and unyielding. The bulkheads and lid were made of heavy, rigid sheets of grey painted metal riveted onto the great lattice of grey painted structural beams. The deck was a heavy rubberized grating with openings large enough to lose a watch or ring through, something that happened regularly. The lockers around her were severe, undecorated, and uniform. The showers in the next compartment were simple showerheads with lever valves threaded onto simple grey-painted pipes. It was a colorless environment that was uniformly hard and unforgiving. She was in the very guts of the ship, far from the pretty, polished, and cushioned areas where Drake met with important guests. Oddly enough Seldon found it comforting.

She exhaled and shook her head. She'd followed Drake back to the Necromancer in order to put a team together and acquire transport down to the shipyard. Most of which she'd been able to accomplish via messages and wireless communication between the ships. Kao was doing much the same aboard the Endless, only his plans involved one of the phantom personnel transports. After giving her orders and making her requests she made her way to the ORR to change into her armor. The council session was still several hours away and she meant to take advantage of the time by meeting with Thane's security people and doing her best to keep her boneheaded employer alive. Considering the event and the guaranteed threats, it was a job that should have involved weeks of planning. Yet, like most things in Drake's world, it was instead happening at the last minute, at breakneck pace, with little to no preparation. She knew she should have been thinking about the coming day. She knew she should have been creating a checklist, thinking about all the possible threats that could show themselves and coming up with plans to deal with every possibility. Instead she found herself staring into space with Drake's question lingering in her mind.

"What do you want?!" He demanded within her thoughts. "I mean if you know what it is, you go after it!"

"Maybe it's not that simple!" she'd told him.

"Or maybe you're just scared and don't have the guts to admit it! Maybe all of this has got nothin' to do with Cornell, nothin' to do with Chinomu, nothin' to do with Slamer, and everythin' to do with you thinkin' there's somethin' wrong with you."

"God damn you, Drake," she whispered without meaning it. He was right, of course. He'd hit the nail square on the head and driven it all the way home. Of course there was something wrong with her. Of course there was. She was a curse. Men fell in love with her and were ruined because of it. She brought them pain and death and the harder she tried to push them away the tighter they clung to her.

"Seldon," the kid said, staring at her from the depths of her mind, "if you keep doin' the same thing, you're gonna keep gettin' the same result." He held up a finger. "If you don't like the result," he turned his hand over, "then do somethin' different."

"But what, damn it?" she demanded with a whisper. "What do I do different? I don't want to be monogamous. I don't want to belong to someone. To anyone!" She bowed her head. "And every time I've tried it, it ends badly."

Drake said nothing. The ship hummed around her, deep and powerful. She felt the vibration of one of the catapults through the bench and deck grating beneath her. A fighter was just launched into the dark, probably part of the two plane CAP that Chinomu always had running when a carrier was stationary. For a moment she could almost see the susanowas, a pair of silver blades streaking ahead of twin bright blue candles. Something about the image struck a cord within her, and a wave of feeling washed over her, making her skin tingle and her heart ache. Two warriors out in the cold, sentries protecting the fleet, watching each other's back until they could return to the safety and warmth of home. An instant later she thought of Slamer and nearly wept.

She shook her head and sighed. "Come on, woman," she told herself. "Get your head in the game." A moment later she took a breath and shoved herself to her feet, then collected her helmet and shut her locker. A few moments after that she was crossing the hangar deck toward the four marines she'd handpicked for their intelligence and perception. They were mustered near the Tenjin that Chinomu assigned to her, chatting amongst themselves and shouting to be heard over the din in the hangar bay.

As Seldon made her way toward the ship she felt the weight of someone watching her, and turned her head. Dal was the better part of thirty meters away. He was stood at the epicenter of a small storm of organized chaos currently buffeting a Tenjin that looked very exposed with all her panels open. He was watching her and she could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes while his face remained as hard and stoic as if it had been carved from stone. She thought of those twin fighters in the dark again, not knowing if they'd ever return home.

She flashed a grin at him, completely ignoring the ache in her heart. She watched his brows drop and his eyes narrow, as if he were staring into a bitter wind. She waved and then looked away as if everything were all right. She managed three more paces before the grin fell off her face and all the strength seemed to drain from her limbs. Her feet stopped moving, seemingly of their own accord, and for a moment she stood still as the hangar bay thundered around her. The roar of engines, the shouts of the deck hands, the clatter and whine of an impact hammer all filled the compartment in stark contrast to the deathly quiet within her.

This, she thought. Now.

She turned and looked back at Dal. He'd turned away and was bellowing at one of his knuckle draggers. Seldon stared at his back. Then she sucked in a deep breath, grit her teeth... and did something different.

********

Dal smelled her before he saw her. He was teaching Gobanis, a new Teladi mechanic, how to use the torque setting on the impact wrench. She'd claimed to have experience as a mechanic when she was hired but all of the Teladi seemed to have trouble with the concept of maximum torque. It didn't bother him. It gave him something to do. He liked teaching and, though he rarely thought about it, he was good at it. It brought him into the present, got him focused on the things he could change, and was something he could do to distract himself from the sudden emptiness in his chest. Then he caught an unmistakable fragrance and stopped speaking. He knew without turning to look that Seldon was standing right behind him. After a moment he took a breath and told the Teladi to work with Mo t'Zk, and told Mo t'Zk to watch her torque settings. Then he sighed and turned around.

Seldon looked him right in the eye. The first thing he noticed was that she wasn't grinning. There was none of the flash and distraction in her face, and the absence of those things was as noticeable as the silence would have been had all the noise in his hangar bay suddenly and abruptly ceased.

"Hey," she said and Dal blinked. He didn't know what to say. It felt like an invisible hand had him by the throat. She smiled at him. It wasn't her typical, obnoxious, bold as brass grin, but something that seemed almost fragile. "I-uhm," she said, "I owe you an apology." She squinted and shrugged. "And maybe an explanation?"

********

He said nothing. Seldon waited and the moment seemed to stretch on for an impossibly long time. His face gave away nothing. He looked at her as if he was a statue chiseled from stone and then exposed to the elements for countless centuries. His black eyes where like chips of obsidian beneath gunmetal grey eyebrows and he simply stared at her.

"Uh...?" she shifted from one foot to the other and back again. "Maybe I-ah... maybe I could buy you a beer later?"

For a very long moment she thought he might not answer. Then a strange, awkward smile twitched his lips. It was thin and forced and made him look old and tired, but it was better than the stare. After a moment he pursed his lips and nodded.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just," he dropped his gaze to the floor. For some reason that one gesture made her heart ache again. "Try to show up this time."

"Right," she smiled, "yeah... that would be the apology..."

The tired old smile faded a little.

"Aah," she winced. "I don't know when it'll be. The drink, I mean. The kid has a really frakkin' hectic day planned..."

He nodded.

"So it's gonna be busy. Hell!" She laughed nervously. "I might even get killed and all this'll be..."

His scowl cut her off. "Stop," he growled. "I don't want to know."

"Yeah," she winced. "Sorry. Hey look..."

"You go do what you've got to do, Seldon. Then come and get me after. You know where I'll be."

She winced. This was a lot harder than she was expecting. "Alright, Chief," she whispered, impossible to hear in the din. He scowled at her. She held his eyes. Then she stepped up and kissed him, quick and light, on the lips. "I've got to go," she told him and started to step away.

He caught her arm. She looked back and met his eyes. "Don't get killed," he told her and suddenly she felt that old war within her. He cared and that was good. But he also worried and that troubled her. It felt like weight that she didn't want to carry, and that felt like a prison made of guilt.

She flashed him a smile and realized afterward that she was hiding again and let it slip. "I won't, Dal. And when I get back... we'll talk."

He nodded. She smiled again, this time with sincerity. A moment later she was hurrying toward the Tenjin and the four marines standing beneath it. She was doing something different. She was. She hoped.

********

So I met with Doctor Jared. It was a short meetin'. Mostly I wanted to see him and decide whether or not we could let him in on the joke. I mean it's funny, right? He comes all this way for the 'hybrid artificial general intelligence' that I'd 'acquired', and for the past few days he's been talkin' with Legion about all his theories and ideas about the pathways and potential this brand new AGI could develop into, never guessin' that he's been in contact with it the whole time.

Accordin' to Legion the doctor is absolutely certain that the AGI he's lookin' for is in its infancy, limited to a very specific set of non networked hardware that is in my possession. Heh. Yeah. He's not disrespectful in any way but it's fairly obvious what he thinks of me. To him I'm that pirate what attacked Sol. It's also pretty clear that he's under the impression that I stole the object of his fascination from the Split.

Heh! Yeah. People are funny. Throughout the meetin' I kept watchin' him wrestle with his own prejudices. I hit Uranus the same time he was escapin' the ATF. He saw all those ships destroyed and then he bought the bull-shit that all the Sol networks broadcast out into the gate network. At the same time the ATF destroyed his life's work and framed him as a criminal. So he doesn't know what to believe, and a lifetime of conditionin' has him lookin' at me as some monster from the depths of space and the Split's work with Legion as something akin to heresy... while simultaneously bein' the answer to his life's work. Durin' our meetin' he kept makin' these assertions that I believe he's believed in for a long time, and then suddenly stop speakin' as he realized that maybe his conclusions weren't true. It seemed to embarrassed the hell out him and, maybe worse than that, I think it's shaken him. At one point he just stopped speakin' and stared out into space, and the expression in his eyes was horror. Considerin' the revelation he's askin' me for I don't exactly envy him.

Anyway, after consultin' with Legion, who assures me that Doctor Jared is who he says he is and is only interested in his research, I made sure the doctor understands that once he's introduced to the AGI he's after so badly that he's not gonna be allowed to leave, at least not for the foreseeable future, and asked him if he was prepared for that. His response surprised me, but in hindsight I get it. He laughed. He laughed quite a bit, as if I'd made a pretty good joke.

"After what I've already sacrificed to get here, young man," he says, "the idea of being confined with my research actually sounds like quite the reward."

After thinkin' about it for a moment I gotta admit, I'm a little impressed. The old man does know how to commit to his goals, don't he? So... yeah. If I'm still alive after this whole council business is concluded, we'll take Doctor Jared over to the Endless and introduce him to the AGI he's come so far to see... and who's been chattin' him up as his escort for the better part of the last week.

Heh.

I still don't know whether to laugh out loud or pity the old guy. I still think we might want to give him a mild sedative beforehand. After that H'nt took me to his workshop, where he had a surprise of his own in store, and this one was for me.

********

H'nt watched as Drake approach the project he'd been working on. They were in his workshop aboard the Necromancer and the work of weeks worth of off hours rested in a small set of clamps on one worktable. In all his notes H'nt referred to the project as a hobby, occasionally as an offering to Lord Drake, but secretly he thought of it as a masterpiece. And as Drake examined the obsidian cylinder H'nt felt himself flush with pride.

Drake touched the smooth surface of the housing and a sinuous red line softly glowed along the outside edges of the flattened cylinder. Drake looked up and met H'nt's eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"A sword," H'nt replied.

Drake arched an eyebrow. "Don't swords normally... uhm... have blades?"

H'nt bared his teeth. "Stand back," he said. "I shall activate it."

H'nt picked up the datapad he'd configured as a control console as Drake took a pace away from the worktable. H'nt entered some commands via the touchscreen and a moment later the sinuous red line grew bright, running lengthwise along the outside edges of the handle. The Split grinned at his friend and entered the final command. There was a flash of light and a brief singing whine.

tsinggg!

A seventy two point twenty eight centimeter blade suddenly jutted from one end of the cylinder, momentarily glowing gold within a brilliant lattice of energy. After a moment the glow faded leaving a crystalline adamantine hyperalloy blade gleaming softly in the light of the overheads.

"Holy shit!" Drake laughed and stepped closer to inspect the blade.

H'nt nodded, pleased. He turned to a length of square steel bar-stock. It slid heavily across the grit on the table as he took hold of it. It was heavy enough to require that he slide the end of it off the table and grip it firmly in his fist before hefting it aloft.

"It's solid," Drake said, peering at the blade.

"Yes," H'nt replied seriously. "Liquid and gaseous options presented too many problems and were unlikely to be efficient."

"No, smartass," Drake glanced sideways at him. "I mean there are no segments. The blade is a single piece."

H'nt nodded as he stepped past Drake. "Use same molecular compression technology as shipboard cargo storage.

Drake blinked. "Seriously?!"

H'nt nodded. "Was inspired by paranid spear carried by Captain Kayla."

"But the power requirements for that kind of compression must be enormous," Drake replied. "Not to mention the heat... how do you contain the heat?"

H'nt blinked. Then smiled. Once again Drake proved how easy it was to underestimate him. "Yes," he said. "Both were engineering problems to overcome. Power supplied by micro antimatter core..."

"Whoah!" Drake's eyes went wide. "You're tellin' me that thing has antimatter inside it?"

H'nt nodded. "Within electromagnetic suspension, yes."

Drake simply stared at him. The whites of his eyes were visible all the way around his irises, and his mouth hung agape.

H'nt grinned. "Witness," he said. He then raised the steel bar aloft. A moment later he brought it down violently toward the edge of the blade.

"Wait!" Drake shouted, alarmed.

An instant later the last thirty centimeters or so of the steel stock thumped and clattered to the deck. H'nt turned to Drake and held the steel bar aloft for Drake to see it. The square stock was painted the same grey as the lower levels of the ship, and was slightly rusted in several places, which is why the quartermaster gave it to him. At the end, however, where it ended abruptly at a slight and imperfect angle, it was shiny and gleaming as if freshly machined. Drake's eyes grew wide and round. The corners of his mouth spread and curled toward his eyes.

"Well I'll be..." Drake laughed, then looked at the blade. He leaned close to inspect it.

"Be careful, Drake," H'nt said, "slip and fall..."

"And I'm a head shorter, aye," Drake nodded. "Shit, H'nt! I don't even see a nick!"

"There is not one. The blade is protected by a fifty kilojoule crystalline energy lattice. The lattice is designed to..."

"You're tellin' me that this sword has a shield?!"

H'nt nodded. "Yes."

Drake laughed. He glanced at the steel stock lying on the deck and shook his head. "How much did it cost to make?" he asked, then met H'nt's eyes. "I ask cos, you know, I'd love to have one of those."

H'nt stared at his friend. Sometimes Drake could be very slow. "That is good, Lord Drake," he replied and nodded at the blade, "because I made this for you."

Drake blinked and his mouth fell open again. "Oh," he said, clearly embarrassed. "Aah... thanks."

H'nt bowed his head in a serkavi. "It is my honor, Lord Drake," he stated. Then he pointed at the medical chair a few paces away. "Now sit."

"Sit?" Drake echoed. "Why?"

"Sword has no switches," H'nt said. "No controls for an enemy to make use of. To let you control it I must tie it into your neural interface." He handed his friend a pair of gloves. "Put on."

Drake blinked. "Oh... kay? How long will this take? Cos, you know, I kinda have that thing today..."

"It will take less time if do as told."

Drake blinked and waited.

H'nt scowled, then shrugged. "Twenty mizura," he said. "Maybe more, maybe less. Depend on you."

"On me?"

"On how fast you learn."

"Oh. Well then we're fracked."

"Sit." H'nt pointed at the chair.

********

H'nt made me a sword. Of course, callin' this thing a sword is a little like callin' a Hyperion Vanguard a starship. It's not a lie, but it doesn't exactly convey the whole truth either. For one thing, it-ahm... well, it's powered by antimatter. Now what, you ask, could a sword possibly need to be "powered" for, and what could this sword possibly need with an matter / antimatter fusion reactor? I still don't know if I should be terrified that I have one of those hangin' on my hip or not. Well, the answer, dear friend, is that the sword compresses into itself, or at least into the handle. Yeah, in it's closed state it's no bigger than a handheld electric torch... except instead of a ray of light this thing projects a three foot razor with a fifty kilojoule electromagnetic shield in some kind of matrix that makes it nigh unbreakable. From what I was able to understand it's not even that actual blade that does the cuttin'. It's the energy matrix around the blade. And lemme tell yah. This thing can cut. H'nt gave me a brief demonstration involvin' a ten kilogram piece of bar stock. I thought he was about to destroy the blade's edge. Instead he brought that steel bar down on the blade... and the blade sliced right through the steel. Needless to say, I was more than a little impressed.

It gets better, too. The thing is linked to a pair of gloves that are, in turn, linked to the little computer in my head that let's me see through my eye. Ah... the cybernetic eye... not the real one. That one works without the computer.

Ahem!

Right. Anyway. So as long as I'm wearing the right glove I can tell the blade to open and close with just my mind. I don't even have to be touching it, although the range is limited. Beyond ten meters or so and it's an iffy proposition. H'nt said that was done deliberately so I don't accidentally activate it.

Wait! There's even more.

The left hand glove has it's own nifty little trick. It draws power from the reactor inside the sword...

Yeah, I don't know if that's ever gonna sit right with me.

But it draws power from the sword to power micro capacitors in the glove which can be discharged as a repulsor field. It won't last long. H'nt said I'll only get about twenty seconds of continuous use before the field collapses. Although it does recharge fairly quickly. But the field is strong enough to throw a person and even stop incoming weapons fire, provided they're not too powerful. Apparently there are some high powered anti-material rifles he knows of that will punch through it. Mass driver tech will bypass it. And anything that directs more than ten kilojoules worth of energy at me will overwhelm the field. In other words, accordin' to H'nt, I should avoid gettin' shot by, you know, tanks or... starships.

Yeah. I told him I'd work on it.

I'll tell yah, it is a beautiful weapon. All said and done it is remarkable in every way. Not just a technological marvel but a thing of beauty. A masterpiece. Yet, for some reason, the instant my hand touched it I felt a chill. The expression that comes to mind is, "as if someone just walked over my grave," but that's not right. It felt like starin' at that hole we tore in the side of that Boron TL, and seein' all those tiny little bodies tumble out into the dark. I keep findin' myself starin' at this weapon in my hand, this perfect implement for dealin' death, and the old questions start up in my head. I find myself wonderin' just how many lives I've ended so far. At how many I'll end before I'm done. And as I do, I start to hear the names of the dead.

I wonder if this is what it's like to be cursed.