I'm kicking this one off practically right as I upload the last chapter. Of course, I've got all those words to get through before I reach the end of this chapter, and anything could happen along the way!
Disclaimer: Delays may occur if the Ur-Quan attack.
Rise of the Silver Stars
Chapter 17: Dark Revelation
The commander practically lept over his desk to reach her. Before she could even think of a course of action, he had her wrapped up in a hug accompanied with a few hearty backslaps, acting nothing at all like she expected a regiment commander to act. Or smell, for that matter. "Is that perfume?"
"I've been worried sick ever since we got the kill on sight orders! This is an immense relief to have you here."
"Uh, thanks..."
"Well, you can rest easy now, you're among friends, or at least people who won't shoot you."
That was the best statement she'd heard since setting foot on the steamer to December, and she permitted herself a moment to bask in it. When the moment passed, it was time to start asking questions. This time around, she hoped the answers were either good or at least not dealing with imminent death.
"It's been a while since I've seen someone actually happy to see me. Can I ask why?"
"What, don't you recognize me?"
She ran her appraising eye over him. Young, male, moderate build, no visible scars, clean shaven, light brown hair. It was little to go on, but out of the few Cavalry members she knew, this wasn't one of them. "I'm sorry, but I don't."
He nodded, returning to the desk. "I'm not surprised. I've grown a lot these past few years. I'd expect Vash to recognize me if anyone would from back then. I was around him a bit longer, though it was still really short. I was around him just enough to learn what sort of man he really is."
Okay, that did explain a few things. However, she still needed the "Who?", "What?", and "When?" of things.
"I'm still in the dark here. Just who are you?"
"Commander Julius of the 3rd General Cavalry, though back when we met I was the one being hunted. Seems like our fortunes have been reversed for this meeting, though I would have hoped things would be better."
"That's an understatement. They're trying to kill me out there!"
"Yeah, we sort of figured that out what with the order and all. I was only being hunted for my arm, not my life." He rolled up the sleeve on his uniform, and the memories came back to her as she gazed at the abstract symbols etched upon it.
"You're the kid Milly and Vash helped escape the caravan, aren't you?"
"That's me. So, how are they? Are they trapped in the city too?"
"No, we split up when I got recalled."
"So they're outside this mess? Thank goodness. How are they doing?"
A cough interrupted their discourse. She had almost forgotten about Marianne and Rai-dei, and though the Gung-ho Gun seemed content to fade into the metal, the sheriff certainly wasn't. "Sorry. Marianne, Rai-dei, this is Julius. Julius, Marianne the sheriff and Rai-dei the Blade."
Marianne stuck out her hand while Rai-dei gave a short bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." "Hai."
Julius pumped the hand, and mimicked the bow. "Uh, hi."
Rai-dei went back to rivaling the walls in terms of non-movement, while Marianne kept her foot in the conversation by steering it back to the present.
"It's great to have old friends meet, but we're not out of the city yet."
Julius winked at them. "I'd say you're fairly safe here. I think I can persuade the quartermaster to get a cabin for you, which should keep you out of sight until we depart. After that, you can jump out anywhere along our route."
Finally! Relief washed over her, feeling better than a hot shower. He got up and left the office, wagging his hand over his shoulder to have them follow. They moved all of ten yarns down the corridor before he was through another door. As she came up on it, she noted the recently applied sign by the door- "Julius, Regiment Commander. Moore, Regiment Quartermaster." Well, that certainly made persuading the quartermaster easy enough.
The room itself appeared to be the suite for the steamer captain, though most of the space was just that- empty space. There was a bed, a table, some chairs, and an adornment of items along one wall that made this just-occupied place more of a home than her own apartment. Her eyes flitted from one to the next. A picture from not long after the two of them escaped the caravan, with the pair looking like smiling fools in some town in the boonies. A gunrack that carried a rusted shotgun and a pair of identical polished pistols. A series of news clippings and other written errata- "Cavalry Soldier Captures Smith Brothers", "Bandit Attack Thwarted", "3rd Cavalry Breaks Fondrique Slavery Ring", "Commander Julius Youngest Regiment Commander", "3rd Cavalry Volunteers for Armored Deployment". Two massive group pictures of the regiment, apparently some sort of yearly tradition if the "3rd General Cavalry- 87th Year" and "3rd General Cavalry- 88th Year" captions meant what she thought they did. From the looks of things, Vash would have fit right in with the pictured groups- almost half of the soldiers were doing something undignified, and the other half were suffering the first half's hand-antlers and other pranks.
As she scanned the glaring evidence of total lack of discipline among the rank and file, a small group of three soldiers towards the side in the first picture caught her eye. One was massive and had the other two caught up in headlocks under each arm. One of the poor soldiers in the headlocks was none other than Julius, though he seemed not to mind- the picture caught him in mid-laugh. However, it was the grin on the burly figure that had originally attracted her attention. "It has to be genetic." Quite certain that the burly man was the Thompson who joined the Cavalry, she was startled to see commander's bars on his uniform. No wonder the unit was so laid back.
A finger snap by her head jolted her back to the people currently present. Marianne was at her side, looking slightly concerned. "You still with us?"
"Oh, yeah, just saw a familiar face."
"You've been staring at that stuff for almost ten minutes. You have a room now."
"Ten minutes?" As she looked around, she finally spotted the new person in the room. She must be really off kilter to have missed so much, but then she remembered all that she'd gone through since waking up. Her adventure in the mental realm, the start of her trial, her kidnapping, being saved by a Gung-ho Gun of all people, the manhunt for her, hours of frantic thinking and planning, and a hike across the city. "My, I've been busy today."
No sooner had she thought it than she felt her eyelids gain ten pounds. Each. "I hate to be a bother, but could someone get me to bed?" And before anyone could respond, the last of her adrenaline ran out, leaving her to slump against the wall. As she slid to the floor, she silently berated herself for not eating something that day. "Even Vash knows not to get chased on an empty stomach."
¤ ¤ ¤
It had been nearly a week since coming aboard, and she had spent almost the entire time cooped up in a cabin. Not that the time was wasted on rivet counting, oh no- between all of her running around, not eating well, assorted cuts and scrapes, and general stress, most of the past week had been spent bedridden with what the regiment's doctor called a moderate infection, but what she called pure unadulterated hell. How was someone supposed to have a fever if they were so damn cold, and why wouldn't the room stop that infernal spinning? It had gotten better in recent days, but she continued to languish. At least the regiment's cook knew a thing or two about feeding wounded or ill people. She had been sending a slurry her way that while practically drinkable and easy to digest, tasted like warmed over Thomas droppings once taste reentered her list of useable senses. The urge to get away from the slime and back to the real food she occasionally smelled over the ventilation system was probably doing more for her than the antibiotics.
Rai-dei was making himself useful, and surprisingly so. As the only one of the group that didn't have obligations to fulfill in the outside world other than the ones he placed upon himself, he was often her only company. After all, while Julius said that the 3rd wouldn't toss her to the sandworms, prudent action meant keeping her residence on the ship as quiet as possible. Even bringing in the doctor had been done reluctantly when her condition continued to decline, and while the cook knew there was someone sick, she was unaware of just who it was beyond a guest of the commander. That left her in the company of the Gung-ho Gun for most of the day, and he attended to her with a diligence that she could hardly believe. The damp cloth on her forehead was always fresh, when she was too weak to move unassisted he kept her turned to avoid bedsores, and when nature insisted he carried her to the bathroom. The real surprise was that he never took advantage of her vulnerable state. No oogling, no feeling up, not even so much as a improper word. When she finally confronted him about it, his response was not what she expected...
He had just finished changing the cloth draped across her forehead. Early afternoon rays of sunlight were coming through the porthole, and while tired she couldn't sleep at the moment. Boredom was again her enemy, and she finally turned to one alternative she had been wondering and worrying about for some time.
"Rai-dei..."
He turned one eye to her, attentive.
"Why haven't you... you know..."
He remained immobile, a slight questioning look on his face.
"I can't protect myself..."
The Gung-ho gun sighed and shut his eyes. He dragged a chair over, cutting through the beam of light from outside and sat by her bed.
"It is not something any Gung-ho Gun would do. The impulse to do such things lies within the corrupt heart of humanity, and all those who joined the Gung-ho Guns realized this. We distanced ourselves from the wretched humanity that we are cursed to be, as much as it is possible. We each went our own way in doing so. I sought to become the pure warrior, to be the blade that I carry, and thus escape this human form. Others sought to carve away the flesh that they believed to be their humanity, and replaced it with unliving metal. However, for all our efforts, it is but a facade before the wretched truth. We are human, and that can never be changed. Any offspring would not carry our realization of the truth, only our wickedness. Thus, we purged ourselves of all intent to reproduce, and with it went all the improper urges and manifestations thereof that plague a human to multiply at any cost."
A silence hung in the air like the innumerable dust specks that spun and shone in the sunbeams. He continued on.
"I do not mind the insinuation. It only shows your own awareness of humanity's wickedness, and this is good. I can see why you are only attracted to Vash-San, as he is not a human. They are so gloriously free of the imperfection that damns humanity. I believe that, had you never met Vash-San, you may have..."
"I may have what?"
He looked up at the glowing porthole, almost wistfully. "In time, you may have also been admitted to the ranks of the Gung-ho Guns."
Her insides still churned at the memory. She had been torn between feelings of pity for him, rage at the suggestion, and fear that it might have been true, and then she realized that those were the same feelings that were being thrown at her by the populace. As far as the Joe on the street went, she was already considered to be one of those brutal assassins. Finally, a last fact ran through her head and would have left her a crumpled heap had the illness not beaten it to the punch. "Rai-dei isn't anything like a brutal assassin... He could be right. Damn it all, he could be right..."
He said nothing more the remainder of that day. Neither of them did. Uncertainties and "what if"s plagued her. Ultimately, she could bury them for a while, but they would have to be resolved. She actually had the means to do so, thanks to Vash knocking something loose in her head. Once the illness was past, she would /look/, and find out for sure.
¤IRS returns to the author's seat, sporting a spiffy new electricity-induced afro¤ Well, this is getting good. Yet another little thing has blown up in my face to something far more than I had anticipated, and this time it's been pumped full of ideas thanks to the Shotgun of Philosophy! (Use sparingly.) Curiously enough, The Plan™ has not changed much since I first started, which is odd considering how much happens along the way.
Anyway... Legato's now having fun with a Grue. I'm not too sure what's happening, but the screaming is nice.
Reviewer Responses
cjflutterbye: And we end up with another pair of faces from the past, and I'm by no means done. With this sort of cast, I'll have to start killing them off to get adequate screen time! ...er, that was a joke...
coffeetin: Correctional Measures have been initiated with regards to Legato. As for telepathy, the exact answers are intertwined with future plot developments so I must reluctantly decline to answer at this time. Just look at it this way: You're too perceptive for your own good :)
Sorian: No, the voices are perfectly normal. Well, except for the one that says "Eat the D10!"
betsytheripper: Thanks for the save, though it was too late for my last hairstyle. I also have some sort of 70s cop show theme following me around... If I could find the band, I'd tell them to go back to Sephiroth and follow him around or whatnot. Or at a minimum play his theme instead.
SapphireWhiteTigress: The interest level should continue to grow for quite some time. And to think I was worried about hitting doldrums, only to have a typhoon smack me from behind.
Disclaimer: Delays may occur if the Ur-Quan attack.
Chapter 17: Dark Revelation
The commander practically lept over his desk to reach her. Before she could even think of a course of action, he had her wrapped up in a hug accompanied with a few hearty backslaps, acting nothing at all like she expected a regiment commander to act. Or smell, for that matter. "Is that perfume?"
"I've been worried sick ever since we got the kill on sight orders! This is an immense relief to have you here."
"Uh, thanks..."
"Well, you can rest easy now, you're among friends, or at least people who won't shoot you."
That was the best statement she'd heard since setting foot on the steamer to December, and she permitted herself a moment to bask in it. When the moment passed, it was time to start asking questions. This time around, she hoped the answers were either good or at least not dealing with imminent death.
"It's been a while since I've seen someone actually happy to see me. Can I ask why?"
"What, don't you recognize me?"
She ran her appraising eye over him. Young, male, moderate build, no visible scars, clean shaven, light brown hair. It was little to go on, but out of the few Cavalry members she knew, this wasn't one of them. "I'm sorry, but I don't."
He nodded, returning to the desk. "I'm not surprised. I've grown a lot these past few years. I'd expect Vash to recognize me if anyone would from back then. I was around him a bit longer, though it was still really short. I was around him just enough to learn what sort of man he really is."
Okay, that did explain a few things. However, she still needed the "Who?", "What?", and "When?" of things.
"I'm still in the dark here. Just who are you?"
"Commander Julius of the 3rd General Cavalry, though back when we met I was the one being hunted. Seems like our fortunes have been reversed for this meeting, though I would have hoped things would be better."
"That's an understatement. They're trying to kill me out there!"
"Yeah, we sort of figured that out what with the order and all. I was only being hunted for my arm, not my life." He rolled up the sleeve on his uniform, and the memories came back to her as she gazed at the abstract symbols etched upon it.
"You're the kid Milly and Vash helped escape the caravan, aren't you?"
"That's me. So, how are they? Are they trapped in the city too?"
"No, we split up when I got recalled."
"So they're outside this mess? Thank goodness. How are they doing?"
A cough interrupted their discourse. She had almost forgotten about Marianne and Rai-dei, and though the Gung-ho Gun seemed content to fade into the metal, the sheriff certainly wasn't. "Sorry. Marianne, Rai-dei, this is Julius. Julius, Marianne the sheriff and Rai-dei the Blade."
Marianne stuck out her hand while Rai-dei gave a short bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." "Hai."
Julius pumped the hand, and mimicked the bow. "Uh, hi."
Rai-dei went back to rivaling the walls in terms of non-movement, while Marianne kept her foot in the conversation by steering it back to the present.
"It's great to have old friends meet, but we're not out of the city yet."
Julius winked at them. "I'd say you're fairly safe here. I think I can persuade the quartermaster to get a cabin for you, which should keep you out of sight until we depart. After that, you can jump out anywhere along our route."
Finally! Relief washed over her, feeling better than a hot shower. He got up and left the office, wagging his hand over his shoulder to have them follow. They moved all of ten yarns down the corridor before he was through another door. As she came up on it, she noted the recently applied sign by the door- "Julius, Regiment Commander. Moore, Regiment Quartermaster." Well, that certainly made persuading the quartermaster easy enough.
The room itself appeared to be the suite for the steamer captain, though most of the space was just that- empty space. There was a bed, a table, some chairs, and an adornment of items along one wall that made this just-occupied place more of a home than her own apartment. Her eyes flitted from one to the next. A picture from not long after the two of them escaped the caravan, with the pair looking like smiling fools in some town in the boonies. A gunrack that carried a rusted shotgun and a pair of identical polished pistols. A series of news clippings and other written errata- "Cavalry Soldier Captures Smith Brothers", "Bandit Attack Thwarted", "3rd Cavalry Breaks Fondrique Slavery Ring", "Commander Julius Youngest Regiment Commander", "3rd Cavalry Volunteers for Armored Deployment". Two massive group pictures of the regiment, apparently some sort of yearly tradition if the "3rd General Cavalry- 87th Year" and "3rd General Cavalry- 88th Year" captions meant what she thought they did. From the looks of things, Vash would have fit right in with the pictured groups- almost half of the soldiers were doing something undignified, and the other half were suffering the first half's hand-antlers and other pranks.
As she scanned the glaring evidence of total lack of discipline among the rank and file, a small group of three soldiers towards the side in the first picture caught her eye. One was massive and had the other two caught up in headlocks under each arm. One of the poor soldiers in the headlocks was none other than Julius, though he seemed not to mind- the picture caught him in mid-laugh. However, it was the grin on the burly figure that had originally attracted her attention. "It has to be genetic." Quite certain that the burly man was the Thompson who joined the Cavalry, she was startled to see commander's bars on his uniform. No wonder the unit was so laid back.
A finger snap by her head jolted her back to the people currently present. Marianne was at her side, looking slightly concerned. "You still with us?"
"Oh, yeah, just saw a familiar face."
"You've been staring at that stuff for almost ten minutes. You have a room now."
"Ten minutes?" As she looked around, she finally spotted the new person in the room. She must be really off kilter to have missed so much, but then she remembered all that she'd gone through since waking up. Her adventure in the mental realm, the start of her trial, her kidnapping, being saved by a Gung-ho Gun of all people, the manhunt for her, hours of frantic thinking and planning, and a hike across the city. "My, I've been busy today."
No sooner had she thought it than she felt her eyelids gain ten pounds. Each. "I hate to be a bother, but could someone get me to bed?" And before anyone could respond, the last of her adrenaline ran out, leaving her to slump against the wall. As she slid to the floor, she silently berated herself for not eating something that day. "Even Vash knows not to get chased on an empty stomach."
It had been nearly a week since coming aboard, and she had spent almost the entire time cooped up in a cabin. Not that the time was wasted on rivet counting, oh no- between all of her running around, not eating well, assorted cuts and scrapes, and general stress, most of the past week had been spent bedridden with what the regiment's doctor called a moderate infection, but what she called pure unadulterated hell. How was someone supposed to have a fever if they were so damn cold, and why wouldn't the room stop that infernal spinning? It had gotten better in recent days, but she continued to languish. At least the regiment's cook knew a thing or two about feeding wounded or ill people. She had been sending a slurry her way that while practically drinkable and easy to digest, tasted like warmed over Thomas droppings once taste reentered her list of useable senses. The urge to get away from the slime and back to the real food she occasionally smelled over the ventilation system was probably doing more for her than the antibiotics.
Rai-dei was making himself useful, and surprisingly so. As the only one of the group that didn't have obligations to fulfill in the outside world other than the ones he placed upon himself, he was often her only company. After all, while Julius said that the 3rd wouldn't toss her to the sandworms, prudent action meant keeping her residence on the ship as quiet as possible. Even bringing in the doctor had been done reluctantly when her condition continued to decline, and while the cook knew there was someone sick, she was unaware of just who it was beyond a guest of the commander. That left her in the company of the Gung-ho Gun for most of the day, and he attended to her with a diligence that she could hardly believe. The damp cloth on her forehead was always fresh, when she was too weak to move unassisted he kept her turned to avoid bedsores, and when nature insisted he carried her to the bathroom. The real surprise was that he never took advantage of her vulnerable state. No oogling, no feeling up, not even so much as a improper word. When she finally confronted him about it, his response was not what she expected...
§§§
He had just finished changing the cloth draped across her forehead. Early afternoon rays of sunlight were coming through the porthole, and while tired she couldn't sleep at the moment. Boredom was again her enemy, and she finally turned to one alternative she had been wondering and worrying about for some time.
"Rai-dei..."
He turned one eye to her, attentive.
"Why haven't you... you know..."
He remained immobile, a slight questioning look on his face.
"I can't protect myself..."
The Gung-ho gun sighed and shut his eyes. He dragged a chair over, cutting through the beam of light from outside and sat by her bed.
"It is not something any Gung-ho Gun would do. The impulse to do such things lies within the corrupt heart of humanity, and all those who joined the Gung-ho Guns realized this. We distanced ourselves from the wretched humanity that we are cursed to be, as much as it is possible. We each went our own way in doing so. I sought to become the pure warrior, to be the blade that I carry, and thus escape this human form. Others sought to carve away the flesh that they believed to be their humanity, and replaced it with unliving metal. However, for all our efforts, it is but a facade before the wretched truth. We are human, and that can never be changed. Any offspring would not carry our realization of the truth, only our wickedness. Thus, we purged ourselves of all intent to reproduce, and with it went all the improper urges and manifestations thereof that plague a human to multiply at any cost."
A silence hung in the air like the innumerable dust specks that spun and shone in the sunbeams. He continued on.
"I do not mind the insinuation. It only shows your own awareness of humanity's wickedness, and this is good. I can see why you are only attracted to Vash-San, as he is not a human. They are so gloriously free of the imperfection that damns humanity. I believe that, had you never met Vash-San, you may have..."
"I may have what?"
He looked up at the glowing porthole, almost wistfully. "In time, you may have also been admitted to the ranks of the Gung-ho Guns."
§§§
Her insides still churned at the memory. She had been torn between feelings of pity for him, rage at the suggestion, and fear that it might have been true, and then she realized that those were the same feelings that were being thrown at her by the populace. As far as the Joe on the street went, she was already considered to be one of those brutal assassins. Finally, a last fact ran through her head and would have left her a crumpled heap had the illness not beaten it to the punch. "Rai-dei isn't anything like a brutal assassin... He could be right. Damn it all, he could be right..."
He said nothing more the remainder of that day. Neither of them did. Uncertainties and "what if"s plagued her. Ultimately, she could bury them for a while, but they would have to be resolved. She actually had the means to do so, thanks to Vash knocking something loose in her head. Once the illness was past, she would /look/, and find out for sure.
¤IRS returns to the author's seat, sporting a spiffy new electricity-induced afro¤ Well, this is getting good. Yet another little thing has blown up in my face to something far more than I had anticipated, and this time it's been pumped full of ideas thanks to the Shotgun of Philosophy! (Use sparingly.) Curiously enough, The Plan™ has not changed much since I first started, which is odd considering how much happens along the way.
Anyway... Legato's now having fun with a Grue. I'm not too sure what's happening, but the screaming is nice.
cjflutterbye: And we end up with another pair of faces from the past, and I'm by no means done. With this sort of cast, I'll have to start killing them off to get adequate screen time! ...er, that was a joke...
coffeetin: Correctional Measures have been initiated with regards to Legato. As for telepathy, the exact answers are intertwined with future plot developments so I must reluctantly decline to answer at this time. Just look at it this way: You're too perceptive for your own good :)
Sorian: No, the voices are perfectly normal. Well, except for the one that says "Eat the D10!"
betsytheripper: Thanks for the save, though it was too late for my last hairstyle. I also have some sort of 70s cop show theme following me around... If I could find the band, I'd tell them to go back to Sephiroth and follow him around or whatnot. Or at a minimum play his theme instead.
SapphireWhiteTigress: The interest level should continue to grow for quite some time. And to think I was worried about hitting doldrums, only to have a typhoon smack me from behind.