Disclaimer: Don't expect someone named Volltrottel Watschengesicht Döspaddel to show good judgement.
Jump Chain Part 02
Note: Part 02 of Meh Chapter 36
I finished my book and left my hammock, my sanctuary, to get another and to see what changes had been made. The biggest, or at least most noticeable, was a door covered in skulls with a massive Aquila in the center. Unable to suppress my curiosity, I entered to find the interior of what appeared to be a large gothic cathedral. There were stained glass windows depicting scenes from my life, racks of all the weapons and equipment used in my career adorning the walls, tapestries with more scenes from my life, and in the center was what I first took to be a statue, then a servitor, and finally realized was my body. Or rather what was left of it. It was, as previously mentioned, mostly machine the only visible flesh being my left eye which shined with rage and annoyance. Welp, my curiosity satisfied I left the room to check on what else had been changed.
It wasn't much; the bar was now the size of two elementary school desks, the pantry had a couple new items, and best of all my small library had doubled in size. With tears in my eyes, I surveyed the collection and nearly had a heart attack; The first two shelves were taken up by the Discworld series, all forty five books. Four more than had been published in my original world. Heart pounding I went over the rest of my collection and quickly found several Heinlein novels that I didn't remember seeing before as well as unfamiliar titles by Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard. With trembling fingers I gently pulled The Color of Magic off the shelf. As tempting as it was to jump to the new books I knew that the best way to enjoy them would be to reread the entire series first. It was time to revisit an old friend.
There were two things at the end of the last Discworld book that were of note: the first was a teaser of the next novel in the series and the second was an offer to get it early if I agreed to a single year as a Russian conscript starting in March of forty two. I jumped at the chance and never had cause to regret it. Stalingrad? I really don't see what the big deal was. I mean, sure it wasn't pleasant, but I'd experienced far worse in my however many centuries service in the Imperial Guard. Seemed like a fairly normal campaign to me, guess all those historians had been exaggerating.
I got back, read my reward, and got to work on the rest of the new additions to my library. They went quick, they were wonderful, I found a note from the ROB two days after I finished. It started by congratulating me on the good judgement I'd shown so far and continued with an explanation on how things would go from there on. I would get a catalog with which contained a number of jumps which would get me additions to my world, skills, or other abilities. Want to learn how to play the guitar? Well, one way I could do so was by starting my jump in nineteen fifties America two streets away from the Cleaver family and ending it getting drafted to Vietnam for at least three tours of duty. Want to learn to sail? Circle the globe with Drake and, huh, that also got some sort of navigation ability. I flipped through the book. Want an internet connection? It suddenly had my full attention. Rescue a princess, apparently.
To my dismay, I did not meet the prerequisites to take any of the jumps. The least of them, the one I instantly focused on, required me to have five worlds under my belt. Three more than I'd currently done.
I won't say much about my preparations; just that scurvy is unpleasant, Mozart was not at all how I expected one of the great composers to be, and that racing down the Kahlenberg as part of the largest cavalry charge in human history was kinda cool. Dying over the next two and a half weeks of sepsis after that was not cool at all but whatever, it was all in the name of a good cause.
The first two jumps had a minimal effect on my personal heaven: more rooms, a wooden ship tied to my dock, and a piano. The effect of the third was quite dramatic and something I noticed immediately after my return, a large terraced field had been added to the island adjacent my shack amounting to nearly a third of the available landmass. It was bordered by gabled fences, had a large stone stable and populated with the horses I'd used in my time as a hussar. It was good to see them again, I was no longer alone.
The space in which a door had appeared after my first jump now held a corridor with six. First was covered in skulls and dominated by a large Aquila. Second was rough, simple, and decorated by a red hammer and sickle. Third looked to have come from a sailing ship. Fourth was finely made of spruce inlayed with ebony notes. while the fifth and final door was as finely made as the fourth but decorated by two wings. I'd finished the books gained from my last jump, it was time to get internet access.
I entered the door covered in skulls and pulled one of the many sets of carapace armor in the room off the rack that held it and donned it while considering what else to take as part of my load out. Decisions decisions. A flamer was a given, along with my favorite brace of hellbore pistols and why not add a chainsword? Couldn't hurt . . . or rather it could hurt and hopefully would hurt the people, beings, or things I would shortly use it on.
I arrived in a world made of bricks. Well, bricks and yellow steel boxes with question marks on them. I set it all ablaze. Well, everything flammable on my way to the castle which I assumed held the princess. The resistance was light; turtles, odd mushroom things, and killer plants. None of them was fireproof, none of them delayed me much.
"You the princess?" I asked the odd mushroom thing I found once I arrived at my presumed destination. A few hours work and I was done. Internet here I come. I eagerly awaited my departure from the world, it was, so far, the best jump I'd ever done. I waited with eater anticipation for the presume's princess' confirmation of her identity.
Only for the little fuck to tell me that he was male and that the princesses was in another castle. I shot him of course. I turned around and made it three steps before stopping and swearing in the languages of several different universes. I should have asked if he knew which castle. And then shot him. Oh well, something to remember for if there was a next time.
As the hours turned into days and the days into weeks I quickly came to hate the world I was trapped in. It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd prepared better but my belief that it'd be a quick in and out had negatively affected my judgement. Should have brought a couple books, I lamented, even things I'd already read a dozen times would be better than the nothing I had. Should have also brought rations. Only things I had to eat were mushrooms, spicy flowers, stars for some reason, and turtles and after a couple days of nothing but I was starting to get tired of it. Seasoning, I needed to remember to pack seasonings the next time I made a jump, just in case.
More power packs too, or at least some way of recharging them. I sighed, I'd expected to run out of promethium pretty quickly but now I was having to be very discriminate about the shots I took. Lucky thing the spicy flowers granted the ability to hurl balls of fire or I'd have had to get creative.
IIIIIIIIII
The air was thick with ash and soot. Bowser stared at the charred ruins of what had once been a prosperous kingdom and felt nothing but despair. He had won, he had achieved his goal of conquest only for the arrival of a stranger to turn his victory into ash.
"My liege, the destroyer approaches," one of his faithful troopas announced.
"Ready the koopa troopas," he ordered.
"Sire . . ." the troopa swallowed. "Sire, there are almost none of us left."
Bowser's heart fell. "Then step aside. I shall face the destroyer myself." Victory or death, one way or another he would no longer have to deal with the destroyer by the end of the day.
IIIIIIIIII
There was a big turtle thing at the end of the brick tunnel guarding a bridge over a pit of lava. I drew my right hellbore laspistol, the only one that still had any energy in the power pack, and shot it in the face. The sight of the bound woman on the other side of the bridge gave me hope that my trial would soon be over.
Heart pounding with anticipation I approached. "Are you the princess?" I demanded.
She replied that she was and thanked me for saving her. I, in turn, cut her free and did not cast her into the lava for disappointing me. I wasted no time getting home after fulfilling the end conditions; I had books to read and she had a kingdom to rebuild, neither of us wanted to stand around chitchatting.
The number of books I got for that jump were minimal, something I expected since the whole point of it was to get internet access. Eagerly, I looked around my shack to locate my new computer and, save for a new room containing a pile of gold coins and a small garden of mostly mushrooms, there didn't appear to be anything new. Had I been lied to? Tricked? Bamboozled? Had my ordeal been for nothing? I was crushed, barely able to muster the motivation needed to grab one of my new books, make myself a drink, get a plate of snacks, and go to my hammock.
My funk continued until I finished my last book and noticed a note on my seldom used kitchen table when I was returning to my shack to re-shelve it. The note suggested that I read the description more carefully next time and pointed out the section that informed me that I would only get internet access to worlds I'd visited with internet access to be had and the section that stated emphatically that no computer would be provided. Oh, and an offer to fix both of those issues along the issue I'd had with power packs if I'd just do one little jump, survive at least twenty four hours and no more than a decade. Naturally, I immediately agreed.
My preparations for the next jump were far more extensive than any of my previous jumps. In addition to everything I'd done for my previous jump, I raided my spice cabinet. Time to go to work.
I arrived to see what appeared to be a PDF unit about to be overrun by a group of unfamiliar xenos. Back to 40K I sighed, my heart sinking. Welp, it was only for twenty four hours so I might as well get back into the role.
"DIE XENO SCUM!" I screamed, roasting them with my heavy flamer. "The Emperor Protects!"
IIIIIIIIII
Emily felt a wave of relief wash over her as the unfamiliar cape's attack took some of the pressure off of her beleaguered unit. Thank god one of the masked fucks had a pair of balls or she and everyone on her command would be completely fucked.
"Who in the fuck is that?" her second in command said in shock as the strange cape drove back the horde of bio-tinkered monstrosities.
"Who cares who that is, what I want to know is why don't we have armor like that?" one of her troopers demanded.
"Cause ours was built by the lowest bidder and his was built custom," Emily said sourly. "Do what you can to support that crazy bastard."
"Right, we still falling back?" her second asked.
"We're still getting the fuck out of here," Emily confirmed. "One cape isn't enough support to get the job done." She stiffened up when the armored figure approached.
"Which one of you's in charge?" the figure asked.
"I am," Emily said firmly. "We're falling back."
"You're falling back, I'm attacking," the figure corrected.
"Fine," Emily agreed, too tired to argue. "Good luck."
IIIIIIIIII
I decided not to execute the PDF officer and take charge of her command for one simple reason. I didn't want to be in charge of her command. I only needed to last twenty four hours anyway so who cared what happened, all I needed to do was burn and shoot.
Half the town was on fire when I found something that changed everything. A bookstore. I'm not sure how long I stared at it before another horde of creatures attacked. I got to work immediately after burning them all to death. I wasn't in 40K, the thought hit me like an unexpected expense. I was in a world with books. Something that, in hindsight should have been obvious since the world also had the internet. I had now a reason to live so everything hostile needed to die.
IIIIIIIIII
Emily didn't allow herself to relax until they were in the choppers and half way back to the staging area. What a clusterfuck, what an absolute clusterfuck.
She made sure her radio was set to the unit tac and keyed her throat mic. "Anyone know who that cape was?"
"He screamed 'the emperor protects' so maybe his name is the Emperor?" her first squad leader stated.
"I thought he called himself the Templar?" one of the second squad troopers jumped in.
"Really? I heard temperer?"
Emily sighed. "Why would he name himself the temperer?"
"I don't know, that's just what I heard."
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Did anyone else hear anything different?"
"Yeah," her third squad alpha team leader spoke up.
"What did you hear?" she asked, bracing herself for the idiocy she knew that she was about to be subjected to.
"I'm pretty sure he called himself Klemperer," the woman said confidently.
Emily had to count to ten again. "Just what in the absolute fuck is a Klemperer?"
"German conductor, died in the seventies," the woman replied instantly.
"How in the fuck is anyone supposed to know that?" the third squad bravo team leader demanded.
"Try getting some culture, philistine," alpha sniffed.
"Culture? Your idea of culture is eating yogurt every day for a week."
"Oh yeah! Well-"
"Girls! Focus!" Emily bellowed, glaring at her command, at least the part of it that was in the same chopper that she was. "What's more likely? That he named himself after an obscure german conductor or that he named himself something cringy and conceited like the Templar or the Emperor?"
"Klemperer," her second in command said immediately.
"Yeah," third squad alpha said firmly. "It's what makes the most sense."
The tac was filled with agreements.
"You lot want me to tell command that he called himself Klemperer?" she asked in disbelief. The response she got was another round of agreement. "Fuck it," she sighed in resignation, giving up. "We'll tell command he called himself Klemperer."
IIIIIIIIII
It took me most of the day to finish burn the rest of the town, or rather to burn everything I didn't want to loot, and the rest of the night to finish looting the few things I wanted. For transportation, I a delivery truck which was packed to the gills with my new belongings when I left town early the next day.
I ran into my first cordon shortly after leaving the city limits. Fortunately they just waved me by after getting a look at me, I was apparently not the guy they were looking for. The same happened with the next cordon an hour later. I didn't run into anyone after that but I did learn what the ROB had meant about taking care of my power packs when they started charging themselves about twenty four hours after I arrived. Happily, the tank on my flamer started refilling itself as well. Things were looking up.
IIIIIIIIII
Emily marched into the office of her boss' boss and stopped in front of the other woman's desk in an approximation of the position of attention.
"What were your orders, Captain Piggot?" the woman barked.
"To take into custody the biotinker responsible for the appearance of the odd creatures or, if the situation required, to execute the conditional kill order."
"Wonderful, that's what I thought they were," the director said through clenched teeth. "Were they to burn the town and kill everything in it?"
"No, director, they specifically stated that we were to do as little property damage as possible."
"So why then did you burn the town?" the director demanded. "I understand that the situation was bad, but that's no excuse for wanton property damage! The press is going to eat us alive!"
Emily smiled. "We did not burn the town to the ground, director." Not that she wouldn't have if she'd had the means to do so. "One of your capes did. The only cape that didn't shit themselves and run as a matter of fact."
"What?"
"I said your cape did, director. I think he called himself the Klemperer, but I might have misheard him since I was too busy watching my command get overrun to focus on what he was saying."
"Klemperer?" the other woman stared at her in stupefied shock.
"Klemperer, ma'am," Emily confirmed.
"What, pray tell, is a Klemperer?"
"He was a german conductor, ma'am. We're pretty sure the cape is a fan of classical music."
"No cape named Klemperer participated in the operation," the director said firmly.
"Oh." Emily suppressed a smirk. "We may have misheard, ma'am, what with being busy getting overrun by bio-tinkered abominations. I guess it could have been emperor or Templar."
"We don't have capes with either of those names either," the director said with a frown. "Have a seat, Captain Piggot."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What did this cape look like?"
"Armor, gas mask, carrying a flamethrower, didn't seem stable."
"I see." The director let out a breath. "That description does not match any of the parahumans that participated in this operation." She reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle, followed by a pair of glasses. "Nor any other parahumans that I am familiar with. Have a drink, Emily?"
"I would very much appreciate a drink after that day I just had," Piggot agreed.
The director filled two glasses and pushed one across her desk. "I just got word from the on scene commander. "Every building was torched with two exceptions; the bookstore and the liquor store. The bank was heavily damaged and it looks like someone burned through the vault door but for some reason it appears that Klemperer only took a few thousand dollars, less than a hundred according to the thinkers. We're still working on it, the rest of the cash was heavily damaged in the fire so it will take some time."
"What about the bio-tinker?" Emily asked, getting to the most important thing in her estimation.
"Dead along with his creations so far as we can tell. Apparently they weren't fireproof."
"Good," Emily said firmly. "We dodged a bullet on that one. It was far worse than intel thought it would be."
"No sign of any survivors?"
"Not even insects. It went to shit almost immediately."
"Another thing to thank Klemperer for then." The director took a deep sip. "We're going to tell the press that there was a second trigger in town and that he caused all the damage. We're unsure at this time if he's a hero or a villain but we understand why he reacted the way he did after seeing everyone he knew eaten alive."
"Thinkers have any ideas about him?"
"That he's an alcoholic bookworm," the director stated flatly. "I'm going to agree with your speculation that he's also a fan of classical music."
"Assuming my unit didn't mishear his name," Emily cautioned.
"We can always change it if we have to," the director replied. She drained her glass. "Washington wants a coverup. They do not want the public knowing that our capes, their heroes, couldn't hack it when things got tough and they really don't want the public knowing how ineffective the PRT was at containing this disaster. They're worried our budget will be cut to the bone if this all gets out."
"My heart bleeds for them," Emily said flatly.
"They're willing to give you and your people a rather generous bribe if you agree to play ball," the director continued.
"I'm assuming they'll scapegoat us if we aren't?"
"Got it in one."
Emily considered it for a few seconds. "What's the bribe?"
"Washington suggested giving Brockton Bay it's own office, they want you to run it."
"I get to bring in my own people?"
"You'll have a free hand," the director promised. "I'll sign transfer papers for almost everyone you ask for."
"Almost?"
"I've got to keep something back to bargain with, Emily," the director said with a smirk.
IIIIIIIIII
What I need, I thought to myself as I found a secluded place to park, was a bunch of robots or something like that. My looting had been much less efficient than it could have been if I hadn't had to do all of the work myself. I wasn't sure why it had never occurred to me that I could just find a world with a good selection of books to jump into. Oh well, I shrugged it off, the important thing was that I had a truck full of books and alcohol and a sack full of cash for expenses. Time to do some light reading before I racked out.
IIIIIIIIII
Twenty four hours later Piggot was back in the ruins of Ellisburg task with escorting a team of didn't bother remembering their names, mentally referring to them as lefty and righty.
"You're sure this is him?" she demanded, looking down at the charred corpse.
"Quite sure," righty, a slim blonde girl stated.
"Absolutely," lefty, righty's brother agreed.
"Walk me through what happened," Piggot ordered.
"Confronted the unknown cape, tried to give a speech," lefty stated.
"Unknown cape burned him alive and urinated on the corpse," righty agreed. "Flamethrower ran out of fuel after setting the building ahead on fire."
"Went to the gas station up the street and refilled the tanks after that. Then stole a delivery truck parked up the road."
"Emptied it," righty continued. "Set fire to the contents and retraced his steps in the truck."
Emily nodded, that tracked with what the annalists had guessed. "To the bookstore, the bank, or the liquor store?"
"Books, booze, cash," righty replied.
Piggot nodded to her unit to start making their way towards their first stop and had to physically restrain the two thinkers when they arrived from going in before her people cleared the building.
"No enemies alive in town," lefty said sullenly.
Emily smiled at the kid. "Never hurts to be sure. You two may go in now." She followed the two into the building and watched as they poked around, both of them finally coming to a stop in the second floor which had been set up as a living quarters, presumable for the owner. The two thinkers had their full attention focused on an upright piano. "What is it?" she asked.
"Stopped here," the lefty stated. "Played the piano while looking at books."
"Piano Concerto for the Left Hand by Ravel," righty added. "Anabasis, De Re Militari, Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic War. Curious to see if they were different from the versions he was familiar with."
"Had previously read them in the original Latin and Greek," the left thinker added. "Was curious how the translations altered the text."
"He's a musician?" Emily clarified.
"Classically trained," righty agreed.
Emily snorted. Maybe they'd gotten his name right after all.
AN: Line by Plmc. Ideas by DrakonDarkhaven, Plmc.
Omake: Thinkers
"You get the report thinker report on Klemperer, boss?" Emily's former second squad leader asked.
"Gibberish," she said in disgust.
"How so?"
"According to the thinkers he's several centuries old, speaks dozens of languages, and can throw balls of fire. Oh, and he's a classically trained musician that is an accomplished sword fighter, rider, and sailor. Oh, and he's addicted to reading."
"They figure he's got an anti-thinker effect?"
"Current belief is that he's somehow able to throw up false information to try to obscure the real info so the challenge is to separate the two. We know he likes to read, we strongly suspect that he's a musician, the rest of it? Who knows, all I'm really sure of is that he's not almost a thousand years old."
AN: Suggested by Plmc
Omake: Mass Effect
I arrived on the bridge of a Batarian slave ship. The crew stared at me in stupefied shock, unable to comprehend the appearance of a mature Krogan in their midst. I, of course, killed all of them before they could recover. The rest of the crew didn't last much longer.
I tried not to wince at the putrid odor of the cargo hold; a mix of sweat, shit, and fear. It wasn't their fault.
"Hello!" I bellowed. "I'm here to rescue you! Anyone know how to run a ship this size? I just butchered the crew."
The now former slaves blinked at the sudden brightness, none of them said a word. They stared at me, I stared a them. This went on until a voice from the back answered in affirmation.
"Great!" I said cheerfully. "Come on up here! I have some idea what I'm doing with personal craft but this big fucker is something completely different from anything I've been trained on."
IIIIIIIIII
The Turian fleet hailed me only seconds after I exited the Shanxi relay. I ignored them until they started threatening to shoot at which time I identified myself as an envoy from the Asari republics, something that would have been quite unbelievable if I hadn't gone voice only and used a voice changer. The authentication codes that went along with my transmission had been stolen only a week before so I figured they'd be good enough to at least give them pause before they fired and if not? Good! It meant I could get back to my personal paradise even sooner.
There was a bit of back and fourth after that; they directed me to one of the escort ships, I insisted on docking in the dreadnaught. They threatened to shoot me again, I pointed out all the laws their presence was violating and asked them if they really wanted the trouble the murder of an envoy would add to that. In the end we compromised; they offered to let me park my ship adjacent the dreadnaught and promised to send a shuttle to relay me to my meeting with the admiral, I agreed and then rammed their shuttle bay. See? Compromise.
IIIIIIIIII
I felt like vomiting when I got back and realized just how much the change in species affected me. Wanting to stay? Forgetting to acquire as much reading material as I could? Enjoying a jump? HERESY! I was disgusted with myself for falling into that trap. Never again! I vowed that I would never again fall into a trap like that unless appropriately bribed.
Omake: The Ballad of the Stag King
"Why are we evacuating the castle?" Robert demanded. Not that he didn't like the idea of leaving the godforsaken place but he was the king damnit! People were supposed to tell him what was going on.
"Sire, we . . . there is a new ballad concerning you."
His eyes narrowed. "Is it from the same fucking bard that wrote the Ballad of King Cuck and Queen Brotherfucker?" he growled.
"We believe so, sire," the white cloak said cautiously. "It's titled the Wildfire under King Cuck's Castle."
Robert's breath caught. "It's true then?"
"It is, sire."
"Evacuate the city, not just the fucking castle!" he roared.
"Yes, sire."
"Step up efforts to find that fucking bard!"
"Yes, sire."
Omake: The Rock of Stalingrad
"None of us called him that," the old man wheezed. "I'm told they called him the idiot at the beginning." He shuddered. "By the end we all called him the same thing the germans did, the monster."
"What was it like serving under him?" the historian asked.
"Too short to give an answer for most troops. He had no fear and expected the same from everyone else." The old man smiled. "That's not to say there weren't benefits."
"Like what?"
"He refused rations. He said that if we wanted to eat we needed to take our meals from the enemy," the old man laughed. "His men were the best fed in the city. We once crawled two days through the mud because a prisoner told him that they were expecting a supply shipment and then he had us wait two more days, hiding from the enemy, until it arrived." The old man liked his lips. "We ate our fill, took all we could carry, and destroyed the rest. It was a good week."
"What was he like?"
"He said that his purpose was to prevent the germans from taking the city. He disappeared after we broke the siege. I assume he was willing to let himself die since his purpose had been fulfilled. Danger was just a word to him. Fear, suffering, pain, hunger, they meant nothing to his iron will. He was both the best and the worst commander I ever had. He didn't expect anything from us that he wasn't willing to do himself but since there was nothing that he was unwilling to do he expected more from us than anyone else. He was one of the greatest heroes of the Soviet Union, the war would have been over in a week if there were more men like him."
Omake: Vienna
The most interesting, or at least oddest, part of fighting the battle a second time occurred at the end of it when I shot a familiar looking winged hussar a second before he ran me through. Had I just killed myself in the act of killing myself? I shrugged it off as unimportant, I had new books to read.
Omake: New Carthage
I let my mind wander as we marched in silence towards what would hopefully be an unguarded wall, wondering if I was in the same world in which decades . . . centuries? Before I'd crossed the alps with Hannibal into what would become Italy. Speaking of which, the crossing and the swamps that came afterwards? Some of the few experiences that matched my time in the Imperial Guard. The decade and a half after that was a cakewalk. Plenty of reading material to be had by looting estates. I tried and failed to remember how that jump had ended as I scaled the boarding ladder, maybe I'd have a chance to meet myself in battle again? Maybe I was how it ended? Be interesting to find out if I lasted that long.