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So there I was. Standing blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of me. In the fucking desert. My former space ship, a ruin now, loomed out of the rolling sands ahead of me. Well, it was my spaceship from another dimension, not the one currently in orbit. I’ll settle on ‘paradox’ as explanation. The important fact was I was not the only one staring. Enter right excitable locals trying to get into the aft cargo hold.
“I don’t like where this is going,” I grumbled. Only ARIA heard me. She did not dignify me with a response. “Identify the source of the energy coming from the leader.”
“Runic thaumaturgy.”
“Of course it bloody is,” I spat. ARIA delivered a sharp electric shock to the temple. “I’m sorry…,” I said in half-arsed apology.
The last time I crossed runic thaumaturgy a woman called Sisal wielded it. She too presumed something of mine to be hers and had cheek enough to prove me otherwise. The burns took months to heal.
“Enquiry answered, Agent 492.” Her voice echoed in my comm.
“Are there other sources of magic?” My question was weighted. I wanted her to scan the wreckage without directly asking to locate what I was hoping was still inside. If not I was in a heap of shit. Sei Orlouge already had me by one bollock. My resolve to keep the other free was unbreakable.
“Readings indicate the presence of T-12.”
T-12 was the code for elements of the Tap. It was part of ARIA protocol to identify it and act quickly. In the future, T-12 caused fragments in space-time and fragments in space-time gave me headaches. Headaches resulted in long periods without being able to enjoy a good drink.
“Anything else?” I rose slowly. My knees creaked. Journeying from Irrakam had proven more difficult than expected. I felt old, washed up, and in need of a shower. I dipped the brim of my hat to shield my eyes from the sun and double-checked my energy packs.
“Unknown energy source in tier 7 reflector field.” She sighed. “The article was not logged in the manifold.”
Half-expecting another subtle shock to the temple, I flinched. She uploaded a copy of the Administrate bylaws on smuggling to my short-term memory instead. Bitch.
“Alright, alright, we’re not here on a normal salvage mission,” I admitted. I got guilty when sober, but I smacked my lips, longing for whiskey. “The cargo hold was carrying a neutron emitter to Alerar space.”
“Retrieval is paramount.”
“Yes, thank you Sherlock.”
I set off down the slope and clambered in and out of jagged peaks towards the ship. I had no plan to get inside because a gaggle of scavengers and enigmatic fedora wearing bombshell were in the way. I certainly had no plan how to get the emitter out of the ship and back to the rendezvous by the Zaileya River. I settled for going with ‘something, something, sandy crack,’ and began making it up as I went along.
Alydia Ettermire was fresh off the thrill of reuniting with an old friend and equally fresh off the disappointment that the artifact she'd come to Fallien for had been destroyed. She had actually been returning to port to make her way to Raiaera via Corone, as there was work to be done... but her compatriot Zaki Alash had pointed out a disturbance in the desert - something no one had ever seen before. She couldn't just let that go. It was something new, something mysterious. That called to her sense of 'must find, must have' like gold called to a lot of other beings - such as the glass spinners who were trying to break open the ship's smooth metal with their weapons and magics. So far, they had ignored her; she wasn't getting in any more than they were, but if that changed...
A gloved hand ran over the vessel's smooth metal - for Alydia had no doubts that this gleaming wreck had once carried people... a few thousand years in the future. She didn't recognize the material it was formed from, possibly an alloy of a common Althanian metal and a metal from another world, or maybe even metal and ceramic. The Book of Secret Histories told her of many things, but it only had so many pages. For each subject it mentioned, she wished for a text, rather than a few pages or a paragraph here and there.
Delicate probing of the shadows throughout the vessel told her that yes, she could steal it. Or at least a quarter of it, if she only wanted the ship. That was inadequate; there had to be things in the ship that were valuable. Things Althanas wasn't ready for. Things she could steal thousands of years before they had ever been invented!
The prospect made her itch with excitement and completely overwhelmed her discomfort at the merciless Fallien heat and the grains of sand that had sneaked into her boots, into her pockets, into her hair, between the fibers of her coat, and into other places she would rather not think about.
Her instincts screamed a question into her soul: how best to get in? These bulging things on the side probably meant propulsion. Future propulsion probably meant explosions, so she was not eager to disturb them.
H'mm.
There were a few other protrusions on the vessel, and as a bonus, if she was up and out of the scavengers' way, they couldn't attack her when she inevitably broke in. A running start and a crack of her whip swung her to a small ledge just over head-height, then a few nimble leaps and bounces took her to the top side of the ship, where she paused and admired for a second.
It had beautiful lines, despite the tacky additions for cargo space and the ravages it had seen on its journey. "There's probably a book floating around about you somewhere, isn't there? People love stories of vanished ships." Delicate footfalls took her to the crowning peak that jutted above the sand, and she crouched in front of a window. That was a chair, and that was... a control panel? She had to see it!
The window vanished at her touch and she hopped in, putting it back behind her so that the competition couldn't follow. They could have the shell if they could take it...
But what wonderful things were in here, available to her and only her?
An alarm silently sounded in the ship, blinking lights lining every corridor as portent of danger. Fortunately, the speaker system was long decayed.
“I get the message,” I grumbled. I clenched my fist and cut off the signal.
As ill luck would have it, the scavengers noticed me at the same time. Beady eyes from every race found squandering in the desert settled on my scrawny self.
“Retrieval is now difficult, Agent.” Her voice turned hollow and tinny, a sign she was concentrating her processors elsewhere.
At that particular moment, sun beating down and arrows and blades emerging in the tapestry of malice, the ship faded into the background. That might have been the sweltering heat wave, though.
“Living is going to be difficult if we do not find a way to get past our friends.” I traced the edges of their weapons, the fold of their colourful garb, and the lack of teeth and general hygiene across the board. Fur, scale, and claw were all grubby, sandy, and unkempt. “Ideas?”
My knee buckled as though taken captive. ARIA possessed my motor function without my consent, her idea of progress more important than my supposed free will.
“What the fuc-?”
Before I could object further, the dynamic energy cell in my lower limbs, and the small spidery auto-bot that scrambled up my back on a command other than my own, showed me my plan of action.
Being propelled through the air at temporal velocity was never pleasant. I hated it when I instigated the process on my own merit, but being absconded in an arc up to the ship’s prow was practically criminal. The crash of my limp body against the upper metal plating of the bridge dome sounded across the valley, accompanied with the dim cries of the scavengers realising they were even further away from the contents of the ship. Their loss, my pain. The usual.
“Is that an appropriate idea, Agent?” she said. Her voice reformed, leading me to believe whatever distraction had caused her temporary insanity was over. “Access to the ship can be made through the vernal coupling on the port side of the bridge dome.”
“Oh.” I pulled myself up, put my cap on straight, and wiped the dirt off my sweat-laden cheeks. Strolling over to the bridge haphazard, boots magnetising to the metal, I did not expect to see someone tail ending it inside. “Yeah. Why not.” I shrugged, pulled my pistol, and skulked about to the access point with the schematics of the ship floating in my HUD.
“Excellent.” She went silent.
“But…” I arrived at the hatch and begin unlocking procedures. “Run any wise ideas about how to stop whoever that was inside from getting to the ‘retrieval paramount world ending device’ by me first.” Sarcasm dripped from my lips like the torrents of sweaty chemical imbalance down my spine. The cold rush of air from inside was a momentary blessing in the torrid heat. I dropped into the corridor below.
Lights guttered hesitantly on in the ship at Alydia’s first exhale, and the Alerian frowned. While the odds of survivors were always dismal at best, there had been a slim chance that they had simply holed up and were waiting for help to arrive. But the tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly about this room with its many small windows, still scattered from the crash. The carpets were stained with traces of things she didn’t recognize and didn’t care to, and the air was nearly thick and musty enough to cut.
Life support had no one to function for up until I stepped aboard. The control panel that had seemed so interesting was nothing more, on close inspection, than a method to order meals. Maybe specters would use it to order the ghosts of drinks; the ship was no longer for the living.
It was honestly a pity that all hands aboard this ship from the stars were lost. Not only for the truly tragic loss of life, but also because it just wouldn’t be as much fun if she wasn’t being pursued. Since her own abilities were one of only a handful on present-day Althanas that could breach such a vessel - the Breaker could, perhaps, if he had sufficient time and motivation, or a handful of the master smiths from Kachuck or Keldagrim - there was simply no one to challenge her.
”Even so, there is a ship to explore and I only have so much I can take and so much time before I need to return to Irrakam. Might as well treat it like a heist. Now, if I’m…. I think this is the observation deck. And if this is the type of ship I think it is, then according to The Book of Secret Histories, the mundane cargo hold is straight down, and the interesting one is…
A red hat stuck out of the door, followed by a flowing red trench coat. She moved at a run, listening for any changes in her surroundings that might indicate danger. Though she had no one to chase her, soft-soled boot black boots moved ever faster through the monochromatic halls. She was headed for treasures no one would invent for thousands of years! What glorious opportunity laid before her!
The thief skidded to a halt about halfway to her goal, where a crumpled bulkhead and a twisted corpse impeded her progress. It was impossible for her to make out what he had been. He had a head, arms and legs, but his heavy clothing and full mask concealed his race. What he’d been was obvious. The clothes were designed for space walks, the mask was for a reliable air supply… and the thrusters on his hands and feet - rather, a Limited-Range Individual Mobility Rig. She thought the future-folk called them LEMURS. She could always use another trick for a quick getaway, but stealing equipment off of corpses was a little too gruesome for her tastes.
The man had obviously been an engineer of some description, suiting up to try and fix a critical system gone wrong. He just hadn’t been fast enough or the damage had been too extensive. Sometimes accidents happened; it wasn’t necessarily anyone’s fault. That didn’t make the outcome any less terrible.
Alydia shook her head in pity at the man's fate, then pulled a small circle out of the deck beneath her feet. When nothing sparked, hissed, or leaked, she set the missing piece aside and squeezed through the hole, landing lightly on the next deck twelve feet below. The lights flickered weakly; the power to this section must have been severely compromised. Even the air, subject to the re-engaged life support systems, barely moved, and tiny particles of dust filled the hall with a thick haze. The light’s uncertainty slowed her progress; she could see well in light and darkness, but not so well in the dusk and dim.
Down another corridor, left, then right, then straight for a long way, and finally another sharp left brought the dark-skinned elf to a large locked door. Red lips curved into a smile; even from memory in a huge and hugely foreign structure, she was good with maps. No lights shone from or near the door, there was no hum of power from within it and utter silence behind it, which meant she was probably safe in taking it.
It vanished beneath her palm and blue eyes scanned the room beyond. It was nearly empty - there was just one box. Though bolts had secured it tightly to the floor at one time, the forces of the crash had ripped it loose, leaving a smaller box laying on its side in the far corner. Save for that, the room was completely empty.
The thief stepped silently into the hold, absently returning the door to its place and walking over to the small box, picking it up and sitting on the remnants of the larger one. This one had little glowing markings on its sides and seams that looked like it came apart. Ostensibly, someone who knew the code could open the box quickly, but it looked like a complex puzzle game to Alydia.
I have always loved these things.
Nimble mind worked with nimble fingers, pressing, twisting, turning, and spinning the thing in an intricate dance. The dodecahedron clicked and clacked beneath her hands, letting keen elven ears hear one part of the catch disengage and the next part lock into place. It took her a couple of minutes; even with all her wits and senses, she wasn’t able to just pop the puzzle open. Even so, it soon lay open in her hand, a shining bit of something that the Alerian didn’t recognize.
“What are you?” she murmured, holding out her hand and summoning her book. She had yet to study all of the book; maybe this was contained within its pages somewhere. Or maybe she’d just have to take it to her good friend Sintta Ilya for further study.
“This is really starting to remind me of something,” I grumbled as I minced along yet another service corridor.
The ship was in bad shape. The impact had cracked the hull in half, like a back broken over an angry knee. It almost hurt to look at it, but the Administrate would no doubt put the blame for her loss on me and shunt me back to some small off-world assignment with a dreary level of diplomacy and not at all the right level of bullets, sleeping around, and scotch.
“Intruder detected.” My ‘friend’ said dryly.
“Thank you, ARIA,” I replied erstwhile. “Identify location.”
The cybernetic implant in my cornea flickered to life. I knew the schematic of the ship like the back of my hand, but the flashing beacon in the chamber two doors along the corridor was new. It had to be her. It had to be. If it was not, then I was walking into a trap and not remotely ready to start running again after ARIA tossed me off.
“Link the visual feed from security camera 92 to the internal retina screen.”
There she was. Lanky thing, all told. She had somehow managed to slip into the most secure location on Althanas that did not have a demon problem and…
“Fuck me,” I blundered. My voice, just a little too loud, echoed down the corridor. I broke into a run to try to salvage what little element of surprise I had over her.
Too late.
“She has become aware of your presence, Agent.” On fine form, ARIA turned from wistful and dry to a little too excited I was in trouble.
ARIA devices, despite their unfathomable intellect, never did quite get the subtle art of stating the obvious. They did it all too frequently, at utterly inconvenient times. My boots clanked so loud that if she hadn’t known I was coming, she did now.
“Game’s up, luv!” I roared, breaking into the room like a desperate-for-a-promotion cadet. “Freeze!”
Freeze? Who the fuck says freeze to a thief. Oh, that’s right, the idiot being bossed around by a computer program.
“Shhh…,” I started to swear. I felt the magic fill the room and then the object in her grip vanished. Opportunity lost. Profit reduced. A very big talking down pending from Sei Orlouge. Those worries were all assuming I managed to piece the timeline back together to have a home to limp home to.
“Wait…it’s you!” I bumbled. I held my hands wide, aghast. Surprise visible on my perspiring face, the fates deemed it appropriate to test my patience and knowledge of the future to their limits. This was no ordinary thief. I continued to pant and sweat and glare like a lunatic despite the notoriety of my company.
“I must warn you about the Prime Directive, Agent.”
“Oh. I mean, err…,” I tried to sound confused, as though I were mistaken. It was not hard to accomplish. “Give that back!” I said, teeth grit tight.
A scarlet smirk slashed across an obsidian face, simultaneously smug and sultry. This man had to be a future man, and he recognized her. Either she had made enough of an impact on Althanas that people still spoke, awestruck, of the impossible thief thousands of years after her death, or her plans to travel through time would succeed and she would steal from all of history!
Maybe this man had met her.
Maybe she would meet him.
"I see my reputation precedes me." The words fell from her lips, soft as silk and smooth as satin. "That is heartening, and I'd love to pick your brain. But there are rules we must follow first. If you know who I am, you know what they are, so let us begin."
A wooden doll materialized in her hand, round, bulbous, painted with a woman's face and delicate but vibrant floral patterns. She tossed it to the harbinger of the future and was out of the room before he could catch it, popping into and out of shadows like an ordinary person might hop over a small stream.
"Stay warm, jiharditalwien," she called out from the end of the corridor. "It's cold outside." Then she was gone, just a red whirl down a side hall. All that was left to Lucius was a cryptic clue.
Alydia Ettermire's rules of the chase were fairly straightforward, and she abided by them strictly. She did this for sport, after all; the rules were for everyone's protection. They also ensured that everyone was playing the same game. They were written in a slip of parchment inside the doll.
Quote:
Alydia Ettermire's Rules of the Chase
1) There will be no violence in the chase. Hurt or kill me, the game is over and your item forfeit. Hurt or kill my messengers, the game is over, your item forfeit, and we are at war.
1a) Should my messengers or I inflict physical harm upon you or yours, except in the case of immediate and needful self-defense, the game is over. I will return your item and the responsible parties will report to the appropriate authorities for punishment.
2) I will provide you with up to five clues detailing where I am going next. These clues will become progressively more difficult. If you do not catch me by the fifth clue, I have won and your item is mine. If you do catch me, I will return your item and leave. If you have clues remaining, you may attempt to apprehend me or you may discontinue the chase.
Good luck and have fun, jiharditalwien.
~*~*~
Later, elsewhere
A woman in red boarded a swift ship, grinning broadly when it left the harbor. For years, she had pursued endeavors other than the brilliant capers she'd intended to bring her fame. There were lives on the line, or urgent crises. With this little diversion, she could tend to her responsibilities and have fun. She's have to thank the time traveler, if he found her.
I had several thousand years of disappointment under my belt by the time I finished reading her note. Of all the times I had felt let down, this, amongst myriad humorous comeuppances, was the worst.
“She really is a complete a-”
“Channel opening with the Ixian,” ARIA interrupted. Her tone was murderous.
I bit my lip. I was alone and out of my depth. This was not how rescue missions were supposed to go. I was supposed to find what I was looking for. I was supposed to get to be the hero of the hour. Me. Not her.
“Patch it,” I replied.
“I hope you’ve found the problem, Duffy,” said a voice I knew all too well.
“As it happens, Admiral Orlouge, the wormhole was caused by the disintegration of the Ice Henge.” I had discovered this weeks ago. “I have a bigger problem at the moment.”
“More than the end of our timeline?” the Admiral replied with contempt.
I nodded.
“You remember that dark elf ‘thief’ and the foundation stone of Ixian Castle?”
I knew that he knew that I knew he knew I knew he was frowning.
“…You met Alydia?”
Bingo.
“I did not mean to bump into her. She…stole the device from under my nose.” I tried to sound convincing, but came across sarcastic and sadistic. I longed for a hip flask, and regretted leaving my cabin at sunrise. My little orbital fighter seemed luxurious now, compared to the infinite bleakness of following her through god knows where for why knows why.
“Oh Duffster…,” the Admiral let slip decorum for just long enough for me to know that he meant ‘you’re screwed’. This was me utterly screwed, as humanity’s only hope and Althanas future and past alike were royally up the sh…
“Yes, thank you, Sei.” I sighed. “If you do not mind I have to chase her down and restore the ‘balance’ you so hold dear.” I tensed my fist and cut the signal short.
Steel bulkheads as my tomb, or the scorched sands as my infinite unknown? It was a hard decision to make but I had to make it. I guess I had to follow her and play the game she so obviously, and desperately wanted to play. I had to admire her gall, at the very least. Then I could shoot her.
“Alright, then, Alydia Ettermire.” I crumbled the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. I had survived Xem’Zund. I had survived Pode. I had survived Apotheosis, and briefly not survived the Forgotten One Oblivion. Time and space had failed to obliterate the Tantalum troupe. I would be bloody damned if a stuck-up, morally-skewed thief was going to be the spiritual death of the Monkey Man.
With a twinkle in my eye, I vanished. The ship teleported me into orbit, and seconds later, the thrusters propelled me towards the location I thought, and hoped, my ‘quarry’ was waiting to further tease me to frustration.
“I hate Raiaera…,” I grumbled.
No sooner had Lucius set foot upon Raiaeran soil than the cold barrel of a gun pressed itself to the back of his skull. The sudden lightness at his hip told him it was his own gun. “Son of a…”
“It’s keyed to my bio-signature,” he started. “You can’t-” he was cut off by a bolt whizzing past his ear. The ancient Bracken let out a startled curse. That wasn’t even supposed to work on this Althanas!
“After all we’ve been through, Duffy Lucius, you should really know better than to tell me I can’t do something.” The voice was silk on steel, sultry and a touch sinister.
Lucius winced, putting his hands up and turning slowly to view the empty space behind his gun. While the owner of the voice wouldn’t hesitate to put a bolt between his eyes if he made a wrong move, she had little love of out and out murder. “...hello, Alydia.”
The famous thief’s invisibility generator rippled and faded, revealing the trademark red fedora and trenchcoat. Instead of the obsidian black of earlier, though, her skin was white as alabaster, presumably to camouflage her better in a Raiaera that still had nearly no tolerance for Alerians. Her lips, red as her outfit, were set in a scowl. “If I had stolen the neutron emitter for a simple game, there would be absolutely nothing remarkable about this day. But instead, I contracted on a cock-eyed Ixian scheme to improve the worlds and am therefore an accomplice in the destruction of reality. Why am I not surprised to find you at the center of this mess?” Each sibilant drew itself out into a serpentine hiss.
“Hey now, just a second. I would have already had the emitter if you hadn’t stolen it from me!” Lucius accused her, more than a little heat in his tone.
“I did?” The galaxy-renowned interstellar thief raised her free hand to her ear. “VILE,” she called to her ship. “Alydia zhah. Which year did I land in? And the month?” She listened for a moment, her frost-blue eye never wavering from Lucius. “Vith.”
She lowered the gun, tossing it back to its owner. “You’re in a game, and I cannot help you retrieve the item. I can tell you that you’re in the wrong place and you won’t find me if you don’t get to the right place at the right time. I can also tell you that this young me doesn’t know what she has or what’s at stake. Explain it to her, offer something as a trade, and she may be willing to call the game.” The corners of the dark elf's lips hardened, twitching downward in response to some bad memory.
She turned, trench coat rustling in the Raiaeran night and soft black boots taking her away from Lucius. In his irritation, he whipped his gun up and pulled the trigger, but instead of a sharp ch-zing! he was rewarded with a hollow clack.
Alydia chuckled, still walking away. She drew a gloved hand out of her pocket, dropping his rounds onto the ground. “You know that doesn’t work here, jihardiatalwien. And one more thing. Lil V’drin Barra has returned to this time period. He might be after the emitter as well, so you had better find my younger self before he does. Or pray that I find him first.”
Lil V’drin Barra was another thief, but also a spy and assassin whose fame matched Alydia’s own. If something valuable went missing in an impossible manner, if it wasn’t signed with Aly’s calling card, it was his work. He and she had clashed many times throughout the millennia, and when they met, one or the other of them wound up nearly dead.
He was not good news.
~*~*~
Alydia stepped out of a portal, squinting her eyes against the harsh brightness of sun on snow just a few miles north of Knife’s Edge. “Ugh.” She pulled her vlince coat more tightly around her slender frame; going from a secret island just a day out of Kithdir to northern Salvar was not an easy transition.
A woman with skin white as milk, eyes green as spring, and hair as yellow as the weak sun that did nothing to bite through the Salvic chill wrapped a fur stole around the elf's slender shoulders. “Alydia, you simply must start preparing for the weather here.”
The darkest of dark elves nodded her assent. “Next time. Has anyone been here asking after me, Lyusya?”
The pale, sharp face tilted. “No, no one. Who did you steal from this time?”
“The future.” Aly held out her prize. “Do you have any idea what it might be?”
“Why would I know the future?” The Salvic phrase implicated that only a fool would say they knew what was to be.
“Then I’ll ask Sintta when I see him. Come, let’s go somewhere warm. We have much to discuss.” The emitter vanished once more, and a chilly Alerian followed a densely-clothed Salvaran toward Knife’s Edge.
The Prima Vista - Bridge
Three months prior.
“Do you ever find yourself…regretting your actions during the war?” Leopold asked. His tone was morbid. Accusation dripped thick from his tongue.
The two men stared at one another intently. Duffy, eternally on edge, hopped from toe to toe by the navigation console. Leopold, slumped into the captain’s chair, drank from a hip flask. His mood matched his attire; black and bedraggled.
“Why would I?” Duffy knew exactly why, but he was seldom one to air his dirty laundry so easily.
“Oh,” Leopold began, but trailed off. He replaced the stopper on his flask, deposited it into his pocket, and began to play with the console on the arm of his chair. Eternally distracted, the captain lived in two places at once. Both eternal battlegrounds – guilt, and title. “You know…”
“No.” The agent turned, seditious, and stared directly at his superior. Fortunately for them both, the bridge was empty and the remainder of the skeleton crew were anywhere but here. Their recent run in with the Order flagship was a blessing in disguise, even if the damage to their ship was anything but. “I do not.”
“The pistol.”
Duffy flinched. He had not expected the captain to call him out so viscerally, and so plainly. Leopold was master of few things, but soliciting the right response and the truth was one domain over which he was king.
“I shot that man because I had every belief he was about to fire upon the viceroy.” Nostrils flared.
“You. Should. Have. Known. Better!” Leopold said, half roaring, half barking. He pressed down hard on the arms of the chair, so much, his knuckles whitened. “You caused this war.”
“And you,” Duffy rebuked. He advanced, but stopped when he was twenty feet away at the centre of the bridge. He felt like he was on trial. When Leopold was in the room, he guessed he was. “You made sure you would be the one to finish it.”
---
The Noxus, Light Freighter - Orbit
Present Day.
“Something as a trade…,” I mused aloud. For all the good, for all the worth it did me, the echo drilled my failure into my head. Over. In addition, over. In addition, over. Repeating cycles of abyssal regret. My life in a phrase.
Ever since I set foot on Fallien’s blisteringly hot sands, I regretted everything I said, did, and saw. I remembered all too well how hard I avoided the island when I had been, well, considerably younger, and less pressed by the responsibilities of an entire political tour de force as I am now. Longing for yesterday, however, often got you killed in the day of here and now.
“Oh.”
My eyes widened. Realisation moments like this were rare after over six millennia of living. Things tended to seem monotonous, dull, and lifeless when you had been through them more times than most mortal men could count. Alydia, to her merit, had solicited a sober moment of excitement from me for the first time since before the war with Raiaera.
“What else would a woman who played such vicious games want, save the world?” The glint in my eye would probably have blinded me had I had the fortune of a mirror and the time to admire my devilish charm. As it happened, I did not. I disappeared. White light, bruising to form later, and a burst of adrenaline delivered to my system from cybernetic implants carried me to the skies on wings of fury.
---
The Prima Vista - Bridge
Three months prior.
“After everything we have been through, do you think I would ever just lay down and let that happen?” Leopold’s wisent glare diminished. Hatred, loathing, and regret fuelled him.
The bridge of the Prima Vista became colder. Lucius folded his arms across his chest and ceased his shuffling. Beads of sweat formed down his back, a side effect of sobering up, and a long week dodging Administrate patrols along the Raiaeran/Alerian border. He had gotten used to everyone in the galaxy wanting the ship and its crew dead. To feel the same hatred from its captain was untoward.
“You buried the fact Ruby was dying from us. How can you dare hold us accountable? We wanted what was best for the people of Scara Brae, as we have always wanted.” Lucius knew nothing else. The Tantalum Troupe had known nothing else.
“I want you to promise me one thing.”
Lucius narrowed his gaze, but nodded. He bit his lip.
“If. When you go back through the wormhole. You see an opportunity to make amends.”
The possibilities for this were endless. Lucius was not sure if Leopold meant for Eiskalt 495, or the death of his sister, or his enrolment with the Administrate. There were too many mistakes in his past to make amends.
“I cannot do what you ask if what you are asking is to save Althanas.”
Leopold laughed.
“Althanas can rot.” It had. It was. It forever would be. “I want you to find the woman that people call the Grim Fandango. Find out what she wants. Find out who gave her that chronomancy device, and stop her.”
Lucius raised an all-knowing eyebrow, and tried not to smile.
“About that…,” he said meekly.
---
The Noxus, Light Freighter - Salvar
Present Day.
“I am having trouble locating a chronographically accurate reading of her location…,” Lillith trailed off. Lucius was not sure if it was the comm. uplink, or his sister’s indecision. “But…”
“But? Lillith. The only time you say but is if something big and gribble is about to eat me, or…,”
“Or I found her.”
“Quick turn around,” he replied glibly. “Where?”
“There is a massive energy reading coming from Salvar. I’d assume Knife’s Edge, because there’s literally nowhere else worth visiting in that country during this time frame.”
Lucius stared out into the swirl of dark cloud that offered him no particular reason to want to go outside. All the same, the ship had landed, and hidden in the ruins north of the Cathedral of the Former St. Denebriel. If anyone found it, it was conveniently disguised as a rather gruesome and every bit rotten husk of a mammoth. Apparently the ARIA deemed that an appropriate disguise.
“So my hunch was right and I’ve wasted our time,” he groaned. A stretch clicked his limbs to life, and he tapped a series of buttons that initiated the decompression procedure. Soon, the side doors would open, and there would be nothing but the destitute between him and her. Cat and mouse. Bitch and bastard.
“It was nice to hear from you all the same,” she said coyly. Lucius did not look at the video screen, but he saw her sticking out her tongue in cheek vividly.
“I will be back soon, I promise.”
“Two months,” she replied casually, as if she knew his future, and before cutting off the line.
It occurred to the agent that the people who knew everything he was doing he cared about most, even if they were six thousand years in the future. He cursed, rather loudly, for not having realised this sooner, and having asked them directly. Then he realised Sei Orlouge would be all too keen to flow the Temporal Paradox Edicts and avoid anything that might, you know, change the future for the better.
“Everything that is, must be,” he mimicked. The voice was iffy, but the intent sincere and just as Sei would have meant it. Lucius rolled out of his chair and thudded to the doors as they opened with a hiss, click, and clamour. The contained atmosphere of the ship vented out into the bitter embrace of Salvar’s cold, abhorrent heart.
“They won’t miss a small time travel device or two along the way,” he prayed, stepping out to restart the pursuit of Alydia, a woman he was swift becoming fond of for all the wrong, a nemesis you love to hate reasons.
---
Salvar - Knife's Edge
Present Day.
Salvar. It was as bleak and inhospitable as I remembered. Granted, I barely set foot in the place when it existed. It felt familiar. Even after millennia, the reverence in the air was electric. It would be all too easy to fall for the charm, given the witch that led the revelry to its downfall.
“You’re intolerably hard to find,” I said, the shadow ahead vaguely feminine in form.
“Which is why you will keep searching,” came a deeper, lustful reply. The woman I assumed was Alydia was, in fact, someone entirely unknown. She, on the other hand, seemed to know to expect me. Another trap. Another trick,
“I,” I mumbled. Smooth.
“Here. Your forlorn clue.” I watched her extend a hand and another delicately lavender scented inscription. I took it, gingerly, and took several cautious steps back. I was not going to let her past self-afford the future self-vengeance for the incident in Genoa. I was now all too cautious of who knew what and what knew when about…something.
“This is a piece of paper with nothing on it,” I observed. Then I realised it was a crumpled bit of paper, and it weighed suspiciously too much for dried shit pressed to literary standard. I unfurled a corner, and connected the dots. “Oh. Thanks,” I said.
Whoever the woman was, she was quick. I looked ahead, faced only with shadows and dust; I became all too aware of the echoing silence. Forever alone, I let the paper drop to the dirty and examined the greasy gear with all too inquisitive and calloused fingers. Curious. Curious indeed.
“Now I’m confused, ARIA.”
The machine within stirred.
“About?”
I smiled. “Why I am cycling around a pit of hatred for a woman that is increasingly able to outsmart me, as well as make me smile.” I jostled the gear, to test its weight, and pocketed it. The paper it appeared was not blank after all, and I read the clue aloud as I made the return trip to my warm, comforting, and familiar cabin. The words struck me with dĂ©jĂ* vu, but I would be damned if I could work it out.
“You’ve been asking that question for far too lo-”
I interrupted.
“Far to the south is rife with elves, dark as soot or fair as light. If you seek tall, graceful spires, do not go to this city.” The chase was on.
Bron Retla rubbed the bridge of his nose in the wake of Alydia's sudden departure. Everything was in readiness, but the highly capable thief was spreading herself too thin. The train heist on its own needed all of her focus; she was tangling with people well above her current capabilities. If any of them got their hands on her...
And of course, she was still bent on trying to eradicate some of Raiaera's blight when she got there, and then there was the time-travel project. Neither of those were new goals; she'd been working at them for years. Ever since that one fateful trip into Raiaera to rescue the people she'd lost. Ever since... He sighed. Ever since.
The last thing she needed was to be running yet another caper on top of all of that. She needed even less to be running a caper with an item of questionable origin, operation, and value. Even worse: she was running it against someone ostensibly from the future and obviously with unknown abilities and resources. Why did she not have any sense? Why had she not consulted somebody before initiating an impulsive chase?
Less than two decades before, when a young detective found herself framed beyond fixing for a crime that hadn't actually happened, he had stepped in to offer her an escape. She was certainly was among the most talented criminals he had ever recruited, even if he couldn't control her and thus had needed to tailor his role to be more like their initial relationship: he as an informant, she as a firecracker who chased down and retrieved what she wanted. On days like this, Bron wished nothing more than that she had remained a detective, the protege of the famed Karliik.
Sometimes he wondered if she wished it, too. He knew Karliik wished it; he still conversed with the man every once in a while. It wouldn't be long before their next meeting, presuming the conference of criminals didn't end in a bloodbath.
A dark olive hand unfolded the piece of paper given to him for this adversary from the future. It was a simple sketch done in a style specific to a particular region of Raiaera. There were no words, but there was a detailed level of Blight shown in the shriveled trees and on the ground. He doubted the future man would know exactly which region this was; in another generation, this knowledge would likely be only a faint memory for the Raiaerans. Either the hard-working researchers and adventurers would cure the Blight and erase the Necromancer's last lingering effects, or it would continue to crawl forward until it consumed everything in elvendom.
He could let the future man fumble his way around the world, or he could misdirect him. He could also point him to the exact place she would be, provided certain promises were made. It would all depend on when or if the man reached him. After all, what he couldn't risk, more than anything else, was someone else running Alydia down in the next two or three days. That would be a good way to get her killed.
Folding the note and tucking it back into his pocket, Bron Retla left his small but comfortable home and walked the short distance to the small antiquities shop he ran. It wasn't big or presumptuous; there wasn't much market for such things in much of Alerar, even in its cultural center. Since he was careful to keep his criminal tracks covered and only took legitimately acquired objects, he was safe from arrest. It did make him easy to find for those he needed to know how to reach him or for those who occasionally needed some information he had.
For the time being, he picked up a cloth and started dusting a beautiful old statue. He would see what he needed to do with this new stickyfoot when and if he arrived.
Alerar is a den of thieves six thousand years in the future. Nothing changed. The smell of oil and destitution was overwhelming.
“So,” I sighed. “Where in the world is she?”
The city was a tapestry of industry. I could see most of the east and southern quarters. Smog stacks and smoke plumes covered warehouses and factories. Airships thundered through the acrid atmosphere.
“Initiating scans,” ARIA said. Her voice was shrill, a high-pitched indication that she was working on three parameters at once. Like all the women in my life, she made me jealous without trying.
“I get the impression she’s not one easily found.” If I could just waltz into this period and use the Administrate database to plot locations of people, I could have left weeks ago.
Things were changing too quickly. Paradox aside, I wanted to leave so bad. Whatever caused the wormhole in our time was no threat to the fabric of our own timeline. It was, however, a potential cause for concern for the Althanas of here and now. Technology could fall through the cracks in our universe. Bedlam.
“Scan identifies three locations that the target has frequented recently.”
ARIA produced an overlay over the panorama. Three blinking lights; one east, one west, and one far north. I tapped the easterly marker for more information.
“No. Not there.” An abandoned warehouse was too obvious. “Show north.”
“The northern location is a criminal network.”
“That one.” I pointed to the third marker.
“Purportedly a world renowned antique dealer’s residence.”
We had been together a long time, but I regretted removing the emotive response restrictions on her programming. She had been all too quick to develop sarcasm and supposition. Whenever we exchanged ideas now, it was like talking to myself. I am, as I am sure you will discover if ever we meet, a highly frustrating bastard.
“Given her proclivity to steal things…” I realised too late what Alydia Ettermire was doing. “I’d say she was showing off.”
A trophy hunt. She was dragging me through her world and telling me, clearly, that she was not to be messed with. She was more like me than ever I’d admit.
“No,” I corrected myself, sullen. Eyes narrowing on the marker, I disbanded the overlay and connected to the small ship high above Ettermire. My home from home. My sanctuary. “She’s showing me that she wants someone to dare try.”
Blue lights. Ascension. A brief journey through time, space, and a shot of whiskey or twelve. I found myself at the door to the aforementioned dealer’s residence with a clenched fist held to the door. Ettermire felt unwelcoming enough, but this building radiated fear and loathing. I could not work out if it was for outsiders, or everyone. I knocked.
“Here goes nothing…”
I held my hands trustingly in the small of my back, finger poised to press the shield device if needed. I smiled as weak and as feeble as my conviction about getting the device back was.
Bron Retla’s door was deep set, cloaked in shadow and decorated in subtle, heat-dispersing trompe de l'oeil. In other words, the perfect cover for any ne’er-do-well in the antiques dealer’s acquaintance to hide from prying eyes. It might have been occupied, for all Lucius knew before he approached. The generally genial thief comprised a fraction of a fraction of Retla’s network, and her rules made her one of the least dangerous when unprovoked. The Bracken might have considered himself lucky to face only a painted iron door if he knew who else regularly crossed that threshold.
He might have.
Darkness trembled in the doorway, more than frustrated, nearly angry. Shadow melted and dripped from rafters to cobblestone, pooling and puddling into a humanoid shape. Lucius stepped back, startled. He knew Alydia fairly well, and while he hadn’t seen this particular ability before, he wouldn’t put it past her to hide from herself while still observing the locale.
What he didn’t think she could do was become a muscular man with razor-sharp features and hair as white as Salvaran snow. L’ V’drin Barra stood before the time traveller, a grimacing sneer tearing black lips back from his teeth. L’ V’drin Barra - The Sleeping Shadow - was nearly as infamous as the “Red Fandango.” He was a thief who also stole rare and valuable items; the only way to tell one of his heists from one of Alydia’s was generally that she left a calling card and he did not. He was also known as an assassin. His favored methods of ambush? From darkness, as darkness, with darkness.
Lucius pushed the button to engage his shield, unleashing the forcefield. L’ Barra tapped the nigh-invisible barrier. “Do you honestly think a thin sheet of light can save you when darkness lies at your very feet, Arian?” Duffy’s shadow coiled around his ankles in thin tendrils, making a blatant point.
The Alydia who had ambushed him in Raiaera - the Alydia he knew, the Alydia who knew him, not the reckless whelp of this day - had warned him of this possibility. L’ V’drin Barra, Zakin Everghym, wanted what Lucius was pursuing, and was thus in pursuit of she whom Lucius pursued. Like Aly, he had a set of rules… but those rules didn’t let many people escape from him.
“That’s not what I think will save me, no. Not from you.” Lucius’s mind worked feverishly. He couldn’t get back to his ship without both causing a commotion and this dark Alerian plunging his own shadow into him like a knife. His pistol didn’t work in this time frame (at least, not for him). And Retla hadn’t opened his door. The Trouper needed to talk his way out, and fast.
“But you know that if I’m here, she’s long gone. You don’t know where she’s going any more than I do, and you’re not the person they’re expecting. Kill me, and you’ve lost.”
A tendril of shadow slashed up from Lucius’s ankle, suddenly hard and sharp as metal. It skimmed his wrist, leaving a seeping gash, and shattered his shield device. Nothing stood between Duffy and the assassin’s strong hands, and his reflexes weren’t good enough to escape the grab.
Stars exploded in Lucius’s vision, tender neck giving into the rough grip of iron-strong fingers. Mechanically-enhanced body struggled against action-hardened muscle, fruitlessly fighting the darkness that encroached more and more rapidly. Tendrils of shadow rippled over the time-traveller, searching for the clue he carried.
A missile whistled by Lucius’s head, so close it brushed his ear. L’ Barra dropped his mark, evading the speeding crossbow bolt, and vanished as a second and third round rang against the door like a gong. Through foggy eyes, Lucius watched a fell shadow drop on an armored Alerian elf, who held up an object that glowed like the moon.
A vehement curse, a lifting of darkness, a quieting of light. Then the street was silent.
Light-weight but sturdy greaves filled the human’s eyes, an emerald gaze regarded him through ash-gray skin. This could only be Zezen Silinrul, a one-time army sniper who had thrown his lot in with Bron Retla and Alydia Ettermire. He bent down, grabbing Lucius by the shoulder and setting him upright.
“L’ rivvil d’Alydia kirn, nau?” Tradespeak was not his language, but the question was clear enough anyway. He shook the human a bit, as though to mix a little more air into his blood - if there was any air to be found in Ettermire’s smog. “Ulu chaon wun draeval d'chaon, jiharditalwien.” He pointed to a small brick building across the square, then walked off, leaving Lucius to find his destination himself.
I opened communications with my ship and Ansett began to tumble out of the clouds towards the city. Just in case.
“Alydia’s friend?” I asked groggily. I spoke in common, but the audio-relay translator projected it in elven. He was gone before I realised. Just like all of her associates, throughout time and space.
Hobbling in the direction the elf had pointed, I thumbed through the mental handbook of how many ways this could go wrong.
I walked into the building and found myself out of the frying pan and into the fire. If people were not trying to kill me, they were trying to lure me into dark corners of dark ships in dark space and dark times.
A lone olive-skinned elven man stood in the shop. “Ettermire is no place for a human to travel unwarily,” he noted wryly. “You’re lucky that my employee found you on his way to make a delivery.”
I stepped into the shop’s entrance, refusing to venture further in the immediate aftermath of the attack.
“Alydia Ettermire, thief or not, has taken something I cannot allow her to have.”
This pursuit was in defence of time itself. If the device was not in the wreckage when the Paradox Retraction team recovered it in two months’ time, a series of events would occur that would have drastic implications for all of Galaxy 492. At the very least, I’d lose a month’s pay.
“Why come here to ask after her? A thief who takes things with no monetary value seeks no counsel from a humble merchant.” Bron Retla was fooling no-one. Not this time, anyway.
“You are a known accomplice of hers,” I accused.
Retla’s glare intensified.
I took a deep breath. The air smelt of stagnant water. Much of Alerar did. The steam from the eternal cog of industry layered thick the walls and gangways with choking vapour. The vapour turned metal to rust, the rust turned air to poison – only an elf could live a life here for long.
“Sei Orlouge.”
The name slipped out quite by accident. He frowned, clearly irritated.
“He is of no importance here.” A heavy sigh worked its way out of the merchant’s nose. “You were expected, stickyfoot. Come with me.” Retla turned to lead me through the shop. He pulled aside a black curtain. I followed dutifully.
The back room was a small chamber with a ring table, two chairs, and ample gloom. Bron sat enigmatically and gestured for me to sit opposite.
“I know the name Orlouge, but why should Alydia return this item?” Retla raised an eyebrow.
I shrugged. Why should she? “I offer a trade.”
Retla spoke psalms with silence.
“Something she cannot refuse.”
“That sounds like a threat, time traveller.” Retla’s tone could have cut adamantine.
“I simply want to trade.” I did. “How can I let her know?”
The elf was silent again, weighing me, his options, and doubtlessly a dozen other factors to which I will never be privy. “Sinta Illya. Have you heard of him?”
I shook my head.
Retla unrolled a map of Raiaera and pointed to a dot - a research outpost within the Plaguelands. “He is a researcher. Find him. Explain. If judged false you’ll die. If he believes you, you’ll meet Alydia. Go.”
I wasted no time and vanished into the aether.
A knock at the door of his study was Sintta Ilya’s first indication that his day wasn’t going to be normal. That the base would soon be abuzz with both apprehension and excitement was beyond given; Alydia Ettermire was due to arrive within a day. She would pull more Blight from the earth and return hope to the weary researchers and crusaders. All but a few of them, though, did not trust that she wouldn’t steal whatever it was they deemed most precious.
It was laughable to the raven-haired magi-scientist. The thief’s goals were too important to her and required too much of her focus for her to have an interest in stealing things here. After all, one of her goals was the cleansing of Raiaera. The techniques developed here furthered those interests only if they were here.
“Enter,” he called, glancing up briefly from the sheaves of loosely-bound papers on his pine desk. He did a double-take at the figure who stepped over his threshold. It was not his green-eyed compatriot Hyanda Lindir, who had left already to meet their Alerian friend, but golden-haired Glorfindel. He and Sintta had first met when the Bladesinger had accompanied Alydia to the evacuation of Eluriand. To this day, the former Legionnaire did not consider himself a part of Alydia’s organization, but he was willing to aid her so long as her actions coincided with (or at least didn’t contradict) his own aspirations.
Sintta gave him another decade at most before he joined their odd and enlightening cause entirely, as a volunteer. Hiki Komori, in Akashima, bet that Alydia would be dead before the Bladesinger was willing to become part of the group, but that he would much regret not having joined.
“What news?” Had Alydia returned early? Or had Lord Elrohir captured her while she traversed the wastes and Hyanda was sending word of their brief delay?
“A human arrived at the facility’s entrance some minutes ago, asking for you. When I asked him why, he said that Bron Retla sent him.” Glorfindel’s impassive tone belied his wearily resigned expression.
Sintta sat straighter. “Bron? With everything else she’s doing, is Alydia also pulling off a spontaneous heist?”
“I would put nothing past that Tel’gothra.”
Sintta frowned, reaching into his desk and pulling out a glowing blue stone. He set it on his workspace and tapped it four times, then three. It flashed silently for nearly a minute before a dry baritone crackled through.
“This is Retla. I’m with Silinrul.”
“Ilya here, with Tinehtele. Did you send a human to my door?”
“Xas. Alydia stole something from him. He wants to negotiate a trade with her for its return.”
The elf’s frown deepened, though the chantstone could not convey that across the distance. “Why did you not let him muddle through her clue?”
Silence sounded for a moment while the Alerian at the other end considered how to frame his explanation. “He is a voyager from the future by at least a few thousand years. My options were to send him to Istraloth, which wouldn’t fool him long, direct him right to you, or risk having him find her during the train heist.”
Sintta winced. That endeavor was already enough of a mess. The voice continued. “I believe she will be intrigued by his proposal. Hear him out, vet him. If you judge him true, let them negotiate. If you judge him an imminent threat, do what you must.”
The stone went dark and Sintta stood, sweeping the enchanted crystal back into its place. “Please then, Glorfindel. Take me to this human.”
~*~*~
Alydia walked into the base just under a day later, Hyanda Lindir at her side. Exhaustion dragged her steps a little, she was covered in grime. She was also extremely pleased with herself, carrying a prize in her hands. It was wrapped in thick, protective cloth to pad against rough voyages, and the thief pressed it into her old friend’s hands as she greeted him.
“Well met, Sintta. What news from the year?”
Sintta cradled the gift she’d brought. If he was right about what it was, it was a great boon to Raiaeran morale, an ancient piece of art that was still hotly contested. “Your return brings light to the dark places, Alydia. We have made some progress in our research. Was Lyusya able to give you the documents?”
The Alerian nodded, walking at Sintta’s side through the brightly-lit halls. “I read them on the train from Knife’s Edge to Ettermire. I have some suggestions to make the canisters more efficient - rather, Zhaunus does.” She pulled a file from within her coat and gave it to the researcher. If you haven’t worked out a better fix by my return next year, his notes might be of help.”
“Other eyes are always welcome. There is other news. A visitor came for you, and is waiting here. A time traveller by the name of Duffy Lucius.”
Alydia blinked. “He got here fast. Well…”
“The game was violated. Bron sent him directly instead of delivering your clue to him.”
Alydia’s lips tightened into a scowl. How dare one of hers disrupt her dance with a jiharditalwien?
“You can contact Bron later. The visitor wishes to negotiate a trade with you, so it is not all lost.”
The thief sighed, running her hands over her hat and coat, stealing away the dirt and grime. “I will contact Bron later. For now, lead on. We might as well speak now and have it over with.”
Sintta nodded, motioning her down the hall. “It might cheer you that Glorfindel is waiting with him, being characteristically stern.”
“I wonder if Glorfindel even knows how to smile…” Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing a light-hearted expression on the Bladesinger’s face. When she had seen him, he always looked stern, sad, or sour.
Sintta opened a door for her, letting her into a small meeting room where a weary wanderer waited.
“Well, Mr. Lucius… I believe you wanted to speak with me?”
The understatement of the century put a smile on my face. I began to explain myself with a curt nod.
“The ship you stole from is called the Arbalest. It’s a class II interstellar scout ship designed approximately five thousand and eight hundred years in the future.” By way of proof, I activated my hologram projector and conjured a small, transparent image of the ship. It rotated slowly.
“It’s a wreck, though,” Alydia said. She watched the image, unimpressed. “I salvaged what was worth my time.”
“By all means. The rights of Salvage haven’t changed in my time, either.” It was how, after all, how crew of the Tantalus trade freighter made their living in the ruins of a war torn galaxy. Hypocrisy was delicious, and second only to whiskey.
With a thought I deactivated the projector and dropped my hands to my sides. I remained in a neutral stance. I wanted Alydia to feel as though she still held all the cards. Sadly, the one card she did was a trump. Without the trade this world was destined for a fate worse than death. Time dilation. Decay. Entropy and oblivion. Not a pretty sight.
“Then I fail to see your interest in my belonging.”
Oh, she was cheeky. The brim of my cap beaded with sweat. Though I exuded cocksure confidence, I was starting to feel the pressure of the long game the elf was playing. I had to admire her dedication through a wave of nausea.
It was Alydia's turn to smirk. "Let's hear your offer, and I'll decide whether or not I have the item.."
“You just told me you-” I curtailed myself and started over.“You can have anything for the device. Simple.” I had to be perfectly honest with her at this point. She had me firmly by the balls. “I need the device to return to my time and to restore the damage the war there has done. You need what I can offer to become the person you think you want to become.”
I trailed off to allow her time to consider. I took the time to admire the decrepit grandeur of my surroundings. Whoever my host was, he had a strange sense of the macabre. Traits of formerly radiant elfish architecture were visible in every location I chased Alydia through. Yet, the grim faces and the dark elf’s withered soul made the outpost a dank, cold, and unfeeling place to be stuck.
“Anything?” she asked.
I smirked back at her, folded my arms, and nodded. “The universe and all the contents, just for that box.”
Alydia leaned back in her chair, a complete rejection of the outsider’s outlandish offer. “The universe is not yours to give, nor would I want it if it was.” Where would the challenge be? What would she have left to do? “The things I want, you cannot give. This land and its people restored, lost lives returned, lost homes refilled. These things are not in your power to give. Even if they were within your ability, the constraints against you make the giving impossible.”
Lucius opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that of course he could do that! Anything, anything! But a web of darkness congealed in Alydia’s hand, slamming into the table with a loud WHUMPH. In place of the shadow sat a large tome made of dragon hide and liviol paper, set with coruscating gems only discovered four thousand years in his future, written with ink mined from the hearts of a thousand dead stars.
The Bracken looked at her, wide-eyed and startled by both the dark elf’s sudden vehemence and her possession of a Book of Secret Histories. That explained so much of her mysterious future. Had she any idea yet, just how much that was worth?
“Do not think I am uninformed, helothann de’ draeval,” Alydia hissed, blue fire shining in her eye. “Do not think I will fall for your lies or machinations, because I do not appreciate that in negotiations.” Shadow once again consumed the tome, removing it from view. She straightened up, shaking waves of curly black hair out from beneath her crimson coat. “Try again. Try truthfully. While I still have patience.”
Lucius stared at her, dumbfounded. After all she’d dragged him through, while she still had patience?! The long chase, the infernal clues – he’d still be hunting her if one of her own people hadn’t taken pity on him. Come to think of it, Retla had known he was a time traveler, too. ”Information flows too freely between the Fandango and her cohorts in this time, too.” Damn.
Duffy sighed, putting his hands on the table and slouching a bit. It was just like her to make every single step of every single interaction as difficult for him as possible, even if she didn't know it yet. “All right,” he muttered wearily. “What I am prepared to offer you is a pair of time travel devices. You've been working on it for years now, right? But you've had only failures so far, despite your estimates indicating success. The right materials just don’t exist in your time period.”
He pulled one out, giving it a grand flourish. “I wasn't lying or exaggerating, Miss Ettermire. The universe and all within it, unlocked for you to explore.”
He held it out tantalizingly, fairly sure she wouldn't steal it from out of his hand. She might have been a thief among thieves, but he'd always known her to give good faith in exchange for good faith. Now, with all reality hinging on her one decision, would she throw the universe into the abyss or haul it from the brink?
Silence hung in the room while the thief considered her angles and weighed her options. After an eternity, she answered.
“I want the devices, their instructions, and proof that the units you give me function as promised.”
“The device is quite simple.” I didn’t think about what I was just saying, I simply let enthusiasm and child like wonderment at the marvels of tomorrow guide me. I tended to stutter otherwise.
Alydia took it from me gingerly, weighing it between her palms and examining the components. It was a flat panel with a cylindrical handle much like a comms device, only weighted and capable of opening wormholes in three dimensions. Now that I had solicited her aid and brought her into the fold, one thought crossed my mind. Fuck the Prime Directive. More so, fuck Sei Orlouge.
“The question is less how it works, and more where would you like to go?”
“When.”
I chuckled. This young Alydia’s ‘keep you on your toes’ attitude was starting to win me over, even if it infuriated me beyond measure. Even if it would always do.
“Quite. When. Any point in time.” I gestured for her to enter a date on the panel, using a rotating touch screen that resembled to her (I imagined) a mirror. A magical mirror. A magical, unexplainable, time-travelling mirror.
“Are there any rules and stipulations?” Her tone had a hitch in it, as if she had an idea already and was waiting to see if I would tell her the truth.
This, I thought, was precisely the sort of question logical and sane people asked. I could see why someone like her would both want to ask it, and want to double-check. Given I knew I gave it to her and she did relatively sort of maybe always moral and good things with it, I did not see the harm in telling her the truth.
“Quite simple, really. Avoid yourself at all costs. Ever you meet your future or past counterpart simply look the other way.”
This was the cardinal rule of time travel. Few people had ever tried, and I couldn’t exactly tell you what would happen if you ever shook your own hand (something, according to Sei, that at the least deserved a court martial).
I was glad we agreed.
“Hold still a second,” I asked her.
Flexing my muscles in both shoulders, I conjured holofields around my upper arms. Green light, phantasmal and otherworldly yet really quite simple technology when you put your mind to it filled the chamber. With a twist of both wrists and a complicated series of mechanical adjustments, I appeared to dislocate my right shoulder and my arm went limp. The field on the right failed, leaving the left radiant and my eyes sparkling with a curious mix of pain and anticipation.
“This is a data uplink. It’s sort of like you reading the manual in the blink of an eye.” I pulled a cable from the appeared gap in shoulder pad. With a wrench, my entire arm came off and became an impromptu mace in my left. “Take the cable,” I said, leaning forwards, “and plug it into the spider looking thing.”
“Spider looking thing?”
A thought woke Jensen, and the drone clambered up my back and sat perched on my left shoulder. Its singular, glowing eye was dimmed by the rotary field that hummed louder the longer my batteries were strained. Yet, its ominous appearance and silent whirring still unnerved me.
“It won’t hurt you,” I lied. “Much.”
Alydia stared hard at Lucius for a long moment. The human tried to sit still and appear trustworthy, but that was nearly impossible under the scrutiny of four suspicious elves. When the dark elf released the time traveler from her gaze, it was only to assess the thoughts of her companions.
Glorfindel leaned against the wall directly behind their guest, arms folded over his chest and face locked into an inscrutable mask. By the door, Hyanda’s hand rested upon the pommel of her sword. Still young and twitchy, she betrayed her unease. Sintta, who stood behind Alydia and to her right, simply rubbed the bridge of his nose. As far as he was concerned, this was a bad idea.
He knew Aly well enough that he knew his opinion didn’t matter - she was going to do what she was going to do, and the best anyone who cared for her could do was stand by and be ready in case it killed her.
Almost cautiously, the thief’s gloved hand picked up the spider-bot, inspecting it as though she had an idea what she was looking at. After a tense minute, she took the cable from Lucius’s severed arm and connected it to the false arthropod’s abdomen.
It sprang like lightning, metal limbs digging into the Alerian’s face and the carapace sealing itself over her left eye. Her scream – half surprise, half agony – shattered the tense peace in the small, windowless room. Two swords sang against their scabbards. The tip of one dug into Lucius’s back, the blade of the other pressed against his throat.
Sintta raced to Alydia’s side. The thief was a scarlet ball, curled up into a fetal position with her hands over the spider and her eye. Was she in too much pain to take it? He reached for her face, trying to pry the offending machine off of her, but a raised palm stopped him. All he could do was hover, helpless, while she endured whatever torments the stranger inflicted on her.
~*~*~
It lasted an eternity. The robot had latched onto her nervous system and sent fire through her body, but with that fire came light, and with that came knowledge, implanted directly into her brain. All the knowledge she could ever hope to need to activate, use, and maintain the chronomic device, plus glimpses and hints at an entire universe full of interesting and dangerous things to find and explore.
A universe that was hers.
~*~*~
After several long, tense minutes, the spider fell from Alydia’s face and clambered back to its owner, who still didn’t dare move lest the pair of Bladesingers skewer him. Perhaps he would have been safer if he’d been more up front about the process; the Alerian wasn’t one to shy from pain if it would give her what she wanted, and she could have called off her dogs ahead of time.
Slowly, her breathing evened out and her body unfurled. The same hand she’d used to stop Sintta from interrupting the data transfer waved at Hyanda and Glorfindel, who grudgingly lowered their weapons and withdrew.
Lucius let out a sigh of relief and took his severed arm, engaging the mechanisms to reattach it. He, like the others, waited for Alydia’s verdict. Would the fickle thief decide that Jensen’s data transfer was an attack and that both items were forfeit?
“The deal is made,” she rasped hoarsely. “Take your thing and go.”
The chronomancy device vanished into Alydia’s darkness, replaced immediately by the neutron emitter, which she tossed to him. Hyanda opened the room’s only door, giving the time traveler his exit.
Well, more like demanding that he exit.
The deal was made. The deal that unleashed Alydia Ettermire upon the galaxy.
Millennia from that moment, Lucius would enter his cabin in the early hours of the morning. It would be a restless night spent tossing and turning, sweating through tribulations and nightmares about the mistakes of his past. He would watch a video recording of that fateful departure after a dream reignited the memories.
After the third playback he paused the scene. The freeze frame showed him as he stepped out into the cold air. He wondered, as oft he did, what might have happened had he handled the situation with more professional decorum. He and Alydia might have become friends, or at the very least, business partners.
“But then,” he mused. His words trailed off into silent thoughts. She would never get to save mankind…”
The echoing cabin hummed. The distant roar of the Prima Vista’s engines served as an immutable reminder that this age was a new challenge altogether. This age owed its existence to that meeting. The concept of a temporal paradox was beyond even the galaxy’s genius minds, so Lucius never gave them more thought than ‘you can do fuck all about it.’
“Self-perpetuating,” he said as he remembered Sei’s words on the matter. “You were never meant to get along.”
They hadn’t. But, all the same, he hated being told what to do. Even by Fate.
Alydia’s acquisition of the temporal device was one of four key events that year that set Althanas on its path towards its end. There he was in grainy and decaying digital imagery, adjusting his hat and taking a deep breath as his nerves finally got a chance to calm. Those events were also the key points in time that ensured the galaxy as Lucius came to know it could survive.
“ARIA, show me chronological log 456.”
The hum of the engines became more prominent. The screen flickered. Lucius began to grow anxious. Soon, they would dock with the Axiom and his debriefing with Commander P.A.X. would begin. Though he had done much for the Administrate, every mistake made by the crew of the trade freighter fell to him to rectify. He folded his arms across his chest.
The new image depicted Lucius some months later. Under the cover of darkness he watched that unmistakable fedora disappear into a bar’s crowd. The image crackled and reformed. There he was, watching her as she and a bard and Sei’s ancestor entered a white temple garden. A roar, callous and cruel, and then a battle. It shifted again to show Alydia taking tea with the antique collector, Jensen stuck to the bookcase behind them, digital ears pricked.
“If only she knew…,” he said longingly.
He pressed the power switch and the panel dimmed. The Administrate’s true goal was to maintain that Paradox. Its agents used the wormholes, caused by the war between Raiaera and Alerar to travel through time. They were the watchers. They were the guardians.
“She stole more than a time device that day in the desert.”
Agent 492 returned to duty.
Storytelling (7/10): I’ll be the first to admit I was lost as I read this thread. However, that appeared to be the idea behind it all, that the reader shouldn’t know where each piece would lead to the next, much like hunting after a thief themselves. It was fun meeting so many of Alydia’s compatriots, and with the exception of a single problem with the story coming to a dead stop for a cameo, the story was handled really well.
In particular, the dealings between Alydia and Lucius directly were handled expertly and had the reader invested from the beginning to end. Including so many nods to this particular version (after all, multiple universe theory) of the future was interesting, and told me much about what I’d like to know about what’s going on on both sides of this fence.
Overall, a really solid effort.
Setting (7/10): While I’m giving this a 7, I will not that both players could have done significantly more with the setting than they had done. The reason it hits seven is that there were choice bits of setting done, particularly the doorway leading into the confrontation between Lucius and L’ V’rdin Bara. Those few notes of interest put what would otherwise have been an average score to something of note. Incorporating more of the surroundings, taste, smell, touch, those would bring you up closer to an 8 or a 9, but as it stands, it’s a solid 7 for me.
Pacing (8/10): Barring the dead stop, the pacing was good. There were a couple of bits that felt rushed, (Lucius convincing Bron that he’s willing to trade seemed a bit faster than normal, but that could have merely been Bron being a little too trustworthy; an explanation one way or another would have been helpful in making the setting flow a little more smoothly), but other than that it’s solid and moves along at a brusque manner, never spending longer anywhere than it needed to. The pacing seemed to be the pace of a quick jog, and stayed the course through most of the thread.
Communication (9/10): Almost perfect. I’d rate this as one of the better threads in terms of communication I’ve seen in a long time. The only real thing that prevents this from scoring a straight ten is the simple fact that Duffy’s dialogue could get a bit muddled sometimes, when you were considering who he was talking to. There’s also one line at the end that I will be addressing in Clarity and Mechanics a little further on. Bravo, though, on being able to communicate like masters!
Action (7/10): There wasn’t a lot of real action, but that which was done was done well. I’d have liked to see a little more in terms of body language and actual things happening, but what there was had been done well, so I won’t really talk too much about it.
Persona (9/10): I knew exactly how each of the characters in this thread acting and they never deviated from their personalities for even a moment. Even the NPCs were portrayed very well. Bron buying Lucius’s line so easily was about the only thing I could dock a point for, but maybe he’s just trustworthy or couldn’t be bothered by Lucius long enough to deliver the message. Just make it clearer to the reader next time and the score will reflect that.
Mechanics (8/10): Michelle, you had few mechanical errors that I could identify, and none of them detracted from the writing in any particular way. Cyd... you either added or didn’t add a quotation mark in your last post, and it destroyed what you were trying to convey. Either he was thinking, in which case you should have used italics with no quotations, or he was speaking, in which case the opening quotation is missing. It could have been fixed with a proofread, so I won’t say anything else about it.
Clarity (7/10): See same note as Mechanics.
Technique (6/10): There were a couple of instances of foreshadowing and some other basic techniques. While you didn’t use very much in the way of complex techniques, it in no way detracted from the thread. You just didn’t happen to use much.
Wild Card (6/10): Ok... I’d have scored this an 8 if not for one line that completely dragged me out of the thread to slam my head square in the middle of my desk.
“I knew that he knew that I knew he knew I knew he was frowning. “ – I know you were going for humor here, Cyd, but that was painful to read, and kinda hurt my head to decipher on top of that. The number of “he knew” and “I knew” made figuring out your meaning a little harder than it should have been (and is the reason for the further point deduction in Clarity over what would have matched the Mechanics score). I decided to list it in the Wild Card section because it more annoys me as the audience than it does anything else, however.
Overall Score: 74/100, very well done.
Alydia Ettermire receives 1,600 XP and 148 GP
Lucius receives 1,200 XP and 148 GP
EXP & GP Added!