A/N:
Big shoutout and thanks to joselyn565 on Tumblr for the incredible fanfic cover!
You can follow me on Tumblr as well crimson-amarone. I post snippets, doodles, and other Trigun and MAWS-related thoughts (yes, mostly reblogs, don't judge haha).
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Chapter Summary:
Previously, after arriving in December, Clark stayed behind while Meryl headed into the office. She literally bumped into the newbie, Milly Thompson, and aired her concerns about the girl to the Chief.
Now, Lord Manga Khan opens up 'trade negotiations' with No Man's Land, sending the newsroom and city into a panic. What does this alien barterer really want?
—
Clark's headache took ages to go away. The ringing in his ears finally quieted enough that he could tolerate concentrating on anything else. The typical sounds of a bustling city returned to a familiar cadence.
Deciding that getting some fresh air would be good, Clark stepped out of Meryl's van, which she'd parked outside the Bernardelli building. Finally, he'd get a chance to stretch his legs. It felt like ages since he last stepped foot on the solid ground of a city sidewalk rather than sinking into a soft, unstable layer of sand.
Clark walked around a few blocks, observing locals go about their day. It was about noontime, or so he guessed, and plenty of folks were out and about. There were several food vendors and little restaurants where people were enjoying their lunch.
A good portion of residents in the area wore business casual attire of white-collar workers. He felt like he'd fit in more with his usual sweater, button-down, and slacks outfit.
He didn't have much of a choice with the sci-fi-magic uniform Mxy dressed him in, though.
It wasn't like he could buy new clothes without this world's version of currency—the double dollar. He wondered if he would be here long enough to need money anyway. He sincerely hoped not.
This No Man's Land was such an intriguing world with its own ways of life and problems. However, Clark already had plenty of things to take care of back home. He couldn't afford to reminisce about home, his family, his job, Jimmy, Lois…
Reminding himself he was here on a mission and nothing more, he needed to start taking action. The first step was ensuring he felt back to full power.
Clark meandered along the busy streets until he found a quiet, hidden alley. He looked left and right, making sure no one was watching before ducking into the shadows.
From the alley, he could test one of his powers requiring significant energy—flight. He started by hovering a good couple of feet into the air, making sure he could maintain that. He gauged how much effort it took, realizing it felt mostly normal (his normal). He wasn't struggling like before.
However, he couldn't quite test himself as much as he wanted to in the cramped space. He looked up. Besides a few lines of drying laundry, there was a clear view of the sky above. A second later, he was up, up in the air, high above the buildings and people far below. His red cloak whipped in the breeze around him.
No one would've been able to spot him so far up unless someone just happened to be standing at the very tip of the crashed spaceship.
The crashed colony ship was breathtakingly enormous. The sight gave Clark strong mixed feelings. It reminded him acutely of the spliced alien ship that almost invaded Earth back home. On the other hand, he picked up on the fact that the ships had been part of a human colonization attempt long ago. He hadn't yet gotten the full story from his new friend. He was sure it hadn't been a happy one by the state of the salvaged wreckage.
He shook off the depressing thoughts and closed his eyes, soaking up the warm rays of sunlight. He soared lazily through the clouds, flipping over so his back was to the ground.
Clark felt so free. After spending the better part of three days cramped in that van, he could finally stretch his 'wings.'
If it weren't for the recent episode of his superhearing going haywire, he considered trying to listen in for Mxy or someone from the League of Lois Lanes. He decided against it for now, not wanting to risk another sensory overload attack. Maybe later in the day, when he felt more confident the power wouldn't go out of his control again. Plus, he needed to relax to concentrate properly.
For the time being, he settled on doing some of his vision exercises. He tested telescopic vision, zooming in on people walking along the streets below. Check. He switched to x-ray, looking through the walls of the spaceship ruins. Double check.
If anything, Clark almost felt that his powers were starting to come more easily. It seemed like he could see further and notice smaller details more clearly than usual. Maybe he was just getting more skilled with the powers as they continued to develop and refine?
Next, he reluctantly tried his heat vision. It was one of those powers that he had a nagging trepidation about since it developed, especially after seeing the File X sphere.
He focused, feeling the energy coalesce behind his eyes. He intended to control the release of heat as a lower-powered beam into the empty sky.
Instead, the heat expelled as a blueish-white hot blast, unlike anything he had ever produced before. It was so intense that he recoiled, sailing backward through the air and barely able to close his eyes to cut the heat vision off.
He blinked, worry bubbling up in his gut. Just what was going on with his powers?
—T&J—
After leaving the Chief's office, Meryl made her way over to the communal breakroom to get a cup of the dredge they called coffee.
Many of her coworkers whispered to each other as she passed them by. A few of whom she was more or less friendly with said their hellos and asked how she'd fared out in the frontier.
She caught one of the younger research assistant boys just as he was exiting the breakroom himself. Meryl asked if he could double-check any latest Vash rumors and get a schedule of sandsteamer departures for that week.
Maybe instead of heading out of the city right away, she could spend a couple of days resting in her apartment for once. Enjoy sleeping in her comfortable bed, taking long showers, using an actual toilet, not dealing with sand in unmentionable places, and eating freshly cooked meals at her favorite restaurants. Her mouth watered at the idea of anything besides toma jerky.
Coffee mug in hand, Meryl headed over to the corner of the floor where all the interns sat, looking for her newbie. The tall girl was easy to find. Her long, brown-blond hair stood out over the other heads of nearby coworkers.
Meryl placed her mug down on Milly's desk and pulled the strap of her bag over her head, depositing it on the floor.
Milly perked up, noticing Meryl walk over, and gave her a big, happy smile.
Before either had a chance to speak, another colleague spoke loudly from the other side of the office.
"Hey, turn the radio up!"
—L&P—
Clark had been flying around, testing his power levels for a while, when he realized he should get back to the ground. He wasn't sure how long his guide would wait on him if she'd found him missing. He was supposed to be resting, after all.
Finding another alley close to Meryl's work van, he sped back down to avoid onlookers and then landed gently on the ground. A black cat with big, green-yellow eyes startled, fur raising on its arched back as it gave an angry meow, and then sprinted away.
Clark bowed his head so his hat obscured his face and then walked as casually as can be around the corner and down the sidewalk. He got about half a block before he noticed a large crowd begin to huddle together at an outdoor cafe. He usually could temper his curiosity, but the dead silence of the crowd perturbed him. He made his way closer to see what was going on.
The cafe's window was wide open, and sitting on the counter nearby was an old-fashioned radio. Whatever was broadcasting seemed to have caught this crowd's attention. Clark shuffled over, standing behind the other customers, where he could also listen in.
"...dedicated to economic expansion throughout the cosmos. We have come to welcome your planet to the community of interstellar…"
—T&J—
Lord Manga Khan sat regally upon his throne-like commander's chair on a raised platform in the center of the bridge. His most loyal flight crewbots synchronously navigated the world ship through the uncharted binary star system.
The master of the Cluster gazed inattentively at the numerous holo-displays flashing the tedious results of the various system-wide scans. His servants would comb through the data and report anything worthy of his time.
Instead, he was preoccupied with thoughts about the wondrous energy sources his crew had detected earlier that led them to this parallel dimension. Despite having traveled the hundreds of sectors of space, there was an incredible thrill in discovering new planets to plunder—ahem, trade with—finding rare resources of almost incalculable value.
After scanning various planets, the computers picked up readings of life and energy sources from the system's fourth planet. With Lord Manga's command, the Cluster traveled to that destination. While orbiting high above the planet's atmosphere, further scans were initiated for various purposes: to locate the most populous regions and detect high-value resources such as Promethium, Duralumin, Moscovium, and the like.
What the scans detected ignited that thrill—hundreds of higher dimensional energy signatures. An unfamiliar source of power the likes of which even Lord Manga had never seen before. Power sources wasted on such a remote, desolate little planet even the Guardians likely had no idea about.
If Manga had a flesh-and-blood mouth, he would have grinned ravenously like a wild wolf.
Speaking of, he would have to meet with his Czarnian friend soon. His most loyal L-Ron had informed him of his guest's arrival not long before their departure into the rift. For what Lord Manga could offer for the Czarnian's services, the brute could wait awhile longer.
A communications crewbot alerted his master that they were able to sync with the planet's horribly primitive satellite comms network. Whenever their Lord was ready, he could take the stage.
Lord Manga Khan had a very important message to deliver to the pathetic, sapient lifeforms dwelling on the world beneath him.
—
"Greetings denizens of Delta Trianguli 4. I am Master of the Cluster and Chief Executive Officer of the great Intergalactic Shopping Network, the one and only Lord Manga Khan.
"The Cluster is the finest world ship dedicated to economic expansion throughout the cosmos.
"We have come to welcome your planet to the community of interstellar—oh, and now interdimensional—trade and commerce. The Cluster is the hub of the Shopping Network's operations, and fortunately, your world has the great privilege of receiving our premiere bartering expertise.
"As you may or may not know, our Network caters to customers on thousands of worlds across the many galaxies. What your planet has to trade, another planet could need. And vice-versa.
"We will be conducting a survey of your world's resources and technologies of value to trade.
"During our survey, we request that residents not interfere with our business operations or engage with our surveyors. Negotiations are to be conducted solely with an authorized trade representative.
"However, the Cluster will be doing business within your star system for a limited time only. We implore your people and leaders to open negotiations within one of your planet's rotations.
"If the inhabitants of Delta Trianguli 4, unfortunately, fail to engage in negotiations within this timeframe, the Cluster reserves the right to commence resource acquisition at the Intergalactic Shopping Network's discretion.
"Furthermore, declining the Network's attempts to barter may result in trade sanctions or penalties imposed upon your planet.
"Share with our growing intergalactic family of commerce! We are here to serve and to shop!"
—T&J—
"...here to serve and to shop!"
The satellite transmission cut out, leaving the bullpen in silence except for the ominous static coming from the radio. Everyone was too stunned to talk, though everyone's minds were surely racing.
The Chief walked stiffly into the center of the room and clapped his hands twice loudly.
"Well, what are you all standing around for?!" He looked around with a stern gaze at all the dazed reporters.
"Get me a story! Multiple stories! All the stories! Who is this Lord Manga Khan? Are they some kind of aliens? Where do they come from, and what do they mean about other worlds? What kind of technology or resources can they trade us? What other intentions do they have, and are we in danger? How will the city officials, military police, and Federation react? Well? Go, go, go!"
The volume in the office suddenly tripled what it was normally.
People bumping into each other, coffee spilling, papers flying.
A mad rush of senior and veteran reporters ran back to their desks to grab their things, corral their junior colleagues, or head over the stairs and elevators to go out into the city to get the scoop.
Most of the less experienced staff fumbled around directionlessly. The interns looked like they were just trying not to get trampled.
"Oh, wow, Miss Meryl! Can you believe what we just heard?" Milly asked, her eyes glittering with a mix of worry and excitement.
Meryl could, but also could not. She had seen some weird stuff most average folk couldn't even imagine. But not in her wildest dreams did alien CEOs arrive in a massive spaceship to barter goods with the fine people of this desert wasteland planet.
She could read between the lines and wouldn't put it past some of her sharp-witted colleagues to have picked up on the not-so-hidden threat in this alien businessman's words.
Trade with us, or we'll take what we want. Deny us, and there will be repercussions. Just try to stop us—want to see what we can do?
Meryl felt a cold chill go down her spine. Humans didn't struggle to survive on this planet with practically nothing but the rags on their backs without a fight. Even now, a century and a half later, and an ever-decreasing population, there were barely enough resources to go around.
Unless sand and bedrock were hot items on the intergalactic marketplace. Water, minerals, precious metals, natural fuels, advanced technology—all of those were in very short supply. If not non-existent.
"Oh my god… What if they go after the Plants?" the horrified voice of her coworker caught Meryl's ear. Minton Beddos, the business and economics editor, was sitting at a conference table with several other business journalists.
It was as if the editor asked the question she was about to think of herself.
Meryl could see that everyone at the table held various expressions of fear, panic, and distraught. Even reporters in other sections near enough to hear the editor were struck by his exclamation. Anxious whispers and pale faces filled the room.
"Do you think any of the engineers at the Plant ship would think they're in danger?" one of the senior reporters asked. Meryl couldn't recall his name, maybe Mark or Tom or something.
Their conversation returned to a normal volume, and Meryl was interrupted from her eavesdropping.
"Miss Meryl?" Milly called, drawing her attention again.
"Oh, sorry, Milly. My reporter brain was going an ile a minute there." She bonked herself on the head in jest. Not that there was a laughing matter to be had at the moment.
"That's quite all right. I was just asking where we should start on this story?" Milly was grabbing a number of items from her desk and organizing them into her shoulder bag.
Meryl had to stop and give that some consideration. This kind of breaking news was so far removed from her regular beat, but she was confident they could find some unique angle to investigate.
If the Plants really were in danger of being targeted by this 'space trading network,' how in the world could they defend against an army of alien looters with highly advanced technology?
Didn't people suffer enough with the string of Plant thefts two years ago?
Knives had already caused towns and cities to crumble in his wake. Meryl shuddered, recalling the devastation at Jeneora's Rock. Poor Tonis and Rosa and all the other locals from the diner who'd lost their friends and homes in a matter of minutes.
How many other towns suffered the same fate or merely withered away into ghost towns?
If Knives was really alive and would be returning like Zazie foretold, he would wage a war to defend the Plants from falling into anyone else's hands.
Of course, who could Meryl even warn about Knives?
The Chief still didn't believe her tale of the Independent twins and the full story of July's destruction. She hadn't risked sharing what she knew with anyone else, worried it would only fan the flames of rumors of her bout of craziness after barely escaping the lost Third City.
Of all the times she wished she could find Vash, this was the one she would do anything to make that wish come true.
"Shit! This is bad. This is so bad." Meryl grabbed her bag and ran to the elevators.
Milly jumped out of her chair, which went spinning from the quick movement. The taller girl latched her own bag, pulled it over her shoulder, and chased after her senior.
"Miss Meryl! W-Wait up! Did you think of something?" she asked, catching up to the shorter woman at the elevator door as it was returning from the building's lobby.
"We need to get the next sandsteamer heading towards Kasted City. If there's a chance he's really there, I need to find him right away," Meryl replied, tapping her foot impatiently.
"What? Who's in Kasted City?" Milly's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Vash." Meryl looked Milly straight in the eye. "Vash the Stampede."
—L&P—