OBT Forum

master arminas Re: The Seeker « Reply #15 on: June 15, 2009, 09:54:24 AM »

Chapter Three

January 21, 3056
Open Proving Grounds
Harlech, Outreach
Chaos March

On the shores of Lake Kearny, a crowd of people had gathered in a natural bowl of land the Dragoons had shaped and sculpted into an amphitheatre.  Already, the rows of seats above Jason were filling with off-duty Dragoons coming to watch this Trial.  And others besides them—mercenaries of all types, their colorful and distinctive uniforms standing out amidst the sea of red and black, white-robed acolytes of ComStar, observers in civilian dress from some of the Great Houses—all these and more had come to watch the bout between himself and Major Devries.

Strange, he thought to himself that so many have come over what amounts to a trifling Trial between the two of us.  Among the crowds, he could see the holo-vid cameras—apparently the Dragoons were even recording the event, perhaps for local viewing pleasure.  He had known of the popularity of the Solaris events; perhaps that was why.  Regardless, the recording will serve as an excellent record of the event for his codex; he made a mental note to ask Colonel Wolf for a copy before his departure next week.

Two days before, he had met Samantha Devries and announced his intention to seek a Trial against her for the possession of Bondsman Lucien.  She had accepted his challenge without hesitation—but with conditions.

“Star Captain,” she had said, “I am no MechWarrior.  I am an infantry trooper in this mercenary command.  I will fight your trial, but you must fight me hand-to-hand.”

“Agreed, Major,” Jason answered.  “Armed or unarmed?”

“Armed with melee weapons only—unpowered melee weapons at that, Star Captain.  And further, since you have earned a Bloodname, and as is my right in a Trial of this nature, I bid myself and two Warriors that I shall select—you must defeat all three of us to win.”

Jason had smiled a grin that any Strana Mechty Dire Wolf would have envied.  “Bargained well and done, Major.”

Now, two days later, he sat upon a seat prepared for him outside the circle the Dragoon’s had drawn in the dirt of the shore.  None sat with him, for he had traveled here to Outreach alone.  And so he sat and he watched the crowd as he waited for his opponents.  Movement in the darkness of a tunnel descending into the hill the stadium had been carved from caught his eye.  And from the tunnel, he saw Colonel Wolf and a half-dozen of his officers emerge, striding across the sands towards him.  Behind them, came Devries and her two selected Warriors, along with her bondsman, though the four of them stopped on the opposite side of the Circle of Equals.

Jason stood as Colonel Wolf walked up to him.  “Are you prepared for this Trial, Warrior?” the old man asked.

“Aff,” Jason said as he bowed his head in respect.  “A question before we begin, quiaff?”

“Aff.”

“These warriors are of your Dragoons.  Would you prefer for them to suffer lethal or non-lethal injury in the Circle today?”

One of the officers behind Wolf sucked in a sudden gasp of air, and several tensed—but one man, older even than Jamie Wolf by his appearance laughed out loud.  “By Kerensky’s seed, Colonel, he is indeed a Warrior of the Clans!”

Colonel Wolf smiled, but his eyes were cold.  “Yes he is, Elliot.  And to answer your question, Star Captain Scott, I would prefer them to remain alive.”

“And so they shall remain, Colonel,” Jason said as he bowed his head again.  “No killing blows shall the Scorpion strike this day.”

A dark haired woman frowned.  “You are so confident, then?  Three of them against you, in succession one after the other?”

“I am a Warrior of the Scorpion,” Jason answered, lifting his head up so that the sun above filled his face with warmth.  “I do not fear odds of merely three-to-one against.”

“Those are no mere infantry—Warrior of the Scorpion.  Major Devries serves the Dragoon’s in the 7th Kommando, and there are few enough able to match her in battle.  And she has chosen two of her finest to fight alongside.”

“I had presumed that she was not a typical infantry trooper, Captain.  After all, did she not capture a Falcon Elemental alive, quiaff?”

“Aff.”

The woman shook her head and took a step backwards, and Colonel Wolf beckoned to two of his men standing over against the base of the amphitheatre wall.  The two marched steadily over towards Jason and the officers, and then stopped, one saluting.  The other was carrying a polished wooden box.  Colonel Wolf returned his salute, and waved the second man forward.

“You weapons, Star Captain Scott, your zulkari.  They are now returned to you.  Fight well, Scorpion, and fight with honor—and may victory show the truth—and yield the prize.”

“Seyla,” Jason replied as he the second man opened the box and he reached within and took the zulkari from the satin lined interior.

Colonel Wolf and his officers walked away and seated themselves in a small box just outside the Circle.

Yet another Dragoons officer walked out into the center of the twenty-meter diameter circle upon the ground.  Pointing first at Jason, and then Devries and her people, he motioned them to him.

“I am Captain Danton,” he said, “and I shall serve as referee for the Trial fought today.  Star Captain Scott, when I signal you may enter the Circle.  The Trial will begin the instant your opponent enters after that point.  You will face one opponent at a time—but the moment I declare one is down, another may enter.  Leaving the Circle for any reason—including being thrown from it—will result in immediate elimination for the individual in question.  You have chosen your weapons, and each party has given their approval.  If at any time, either party wishes to yield, I will issue a command to cease—that command will be immediately obeyed.  Medics are standing by—but they will not enter the Circle until the Trial is complete.  Do you all understand the rules?”

Jason—and his opponents—nodded their answer.  “Excellent.  Warriors, please leave the Circle.”

Jason walked back to his seat, and then turned to face across the Circle once more.  The referee nodded and pointed at him, and the Scorpion drew in a deep breath and then stepped within the Circle.

*****************************************************

From his box, Colonel Wolf watched as the Scorpion Warrior stepped into the Circle of Equals.  He was calm and steady, relaxed, holding his weapons low and loose at his side.  In the center, Danton signaled at the Devries, and then he stepped back.  A tall, powerfully built man stepped forward into the sand, twirling an iron-shod quarterstaff in his hands as he came.

Beside Jamie Wolf on his right sat the woman he had adopted as his own daughter and intended successor—Maeve, wearing the uniform of a Captain that she had earned.  On the left, there was one of the few surviving officers that had originally accompanied the Dragoon’s—J. Elliot Jamison, of Zeta Battalion.

“I know Cantonelli,” Maeve whispered amid the roars of the crowd, “he is vicious with that staff.”

“Perhaps,” mused Jamie Wolf.

The Dragoon advanced across the sand, spinning the long wooden weapon slowly in front of him as he advanced.  Jason just stood there—mere inches from the edge of the circle.  Cantonelli kept advancing, getting closer and closer, but still the Scorpion warrior did not move—did not react.

Finally, as the crowd began to boo and hiss, Cantonelli advanced to within range to strike.  Spinning the staff faster and faster, he began to sway his body from left to right and back again, and then suddenly thrust one iron ferrule directly at Jason.  And Jason MOVED.  Like a bolt of lightning unleashed, he spun away from the iron-shod tip and rolled up the length of the staff, grasping it with his hands as Cantonelli pulled it back and tried to spin it defensively once more.  Jason’s knives—his zulkari—lay on the ground where he had stood.

But with Jason having a death-grip on the weapon, Cantonelli could not use it.  The Scorpion twisted his body, and fell to the side—his head just a fraction of an inch within the circle—and he still held onto the weapon.  Cantonelli was pulled forward, off-balance, towards Jason, on top of Jason.  But Jason had already cocked his feet tight against his stomach, and as Cantonelli landed, he thrust both his boots up into the Dragoon’s diaphragm—propelling him up and towards the edge of the circle.  He kept his hands on the staff, pulling Cantonelli over his head in an arc—but when the Dragoon hit the apex, he released the weapon, and spun to his feet, just as he heard his foe hit the ground and roll up against the stone wall—outside the circle.

“He was so focused on what he was trying to do, Maeve, that he forgot that Scorpion down there might have other ideas,” Jamie Wolf spoke loudly against the roar of the crowd.

Spinning around, Jason began to dance along the inner rim of the Circle, grabbing his zulkari as he went.  And the second Dragoon entered, wielding two fighting sticks—one in each hand.

The two began to dance and probe against each other—razor’s edge against rib-crushing impact—but neither seriously attempted to land a blow.  Both warriors were probing their opponent to discover his weaknesses.

“What is the way of the warrior, Maeve?” Jamie Wolf asked as he watched the fight spellbound, the two combatants lunging and parrying as they danced like a pair of butterflies around and around the center of the circle.

“To defeat your enemies?”

“Not quite.  The WAY of the warrior is to understand your enemies—so that they defeat themselves.  The Scorpions have always understood that—watch him closely, Maeve.  See what he sees.”

The young woman frowned and watched as Jason and the second Dragoon kept circling and probing.  And then the Scorpion lashed out with one knife.  The Dragoon swept the blow aside and thrust forward with his own free stick, but the strike had been naught but a feint.  Jason dropped to the ground beneath the stick and spun, the heel of his boot striking the Dragoon in the side of the knee-cap.  A sickening CRACK sounded across the amphitheatre, and the Dragoon dropped to the sand as Jason rolled back and stood once more, holding both zulkari before him as he gauged his wounded opponent just outside of his reach.

“Roberts thought he was sparring in a traditional match—and the Scorpion let him think that.  He was not expecting him to use something other than his weapons—and because of that he failed.  Scott saw that—and used it.”

“But that move is illegal,” she protested.

J. Elliot Jamison made a rude sound from the other side of Jamie Wolf.  “And so what?  It was not listed in the rules given in THIS TRIAL as illegal—and it just gave him the victory over Roberts, quiaff?  Best that you understand this now BEFORE you face the Clans, Maeve Wolf—against a real Clan warrior you face death incarnate.  That Scorpion was not joking when he asked the Colonel if he wanted those men dead or alive at the end of the match—and that was a courtesy few Clanners would have given.”

On the sands below, Roberts dropped one of his sticks, and tore a strip from his shirt as Jason gave him time to recover.  Holding his damaged leg out straight, he quickly bound the stick to it, and then stood, with but a single weapon.  But his injured leg meant he could barely move, and Jason circled, keeping out of the area where Roberts could strike him.  The zulkari flashed out and a slashing flow of crimson erupted from the back of the hand in which Roberts held his last stick.  Before it hit the sand, Jason spun, and kicked it across the circle.

He spoke to his foe—but Maeve and the others in the crowd were too far to hear.  Roberts shook his head, and the Scorpion inclined his own in reply.  And then he asked a question again.

“What is he doing?” she asked.

“Offering hegira, probably,” Jamison answered gruffly.  “Of course, if Roberts accepts, it means that Devries will forfeit.”

Jason nodded at the second answer, and he dropped the two knives.  Rushing in, he struck Roberts in the solar plexus, the stomach, and the groin in three rapid punches, and then he drew back and slammed an elbow into the reeling man’s temple.  The Dragoon hit the sand, losing consciousness, and Danton motioned Devries into the circle.

Jason stepped back, knelt and retrieved his weapons from the sand as Devries came forward, holding a pair of long knives of her own before her.  The woman began to circle, but then charged in with blinding speed, using both knives to cut a path.  Jason spun aside, parrying the blows with his own steel, but one of the Dragoons blades sliced against his right side, spilling blood.

The crowd roared as the Dragoons watching the contest cheered for their own—but then something changed in the arena below.  Jason began to dance, weaving his blades around him as he moved—not striking, but using them to parry only.  Devries drove in, her own blades flashing as she struck, and three more times she cut him, leaving blood on the sand below.

“Watch closely, Maeve,” Jamie Wolf shouted above the crowd.  “Few outsiders ever gain the honor of watching the Dance of the Scars.  He is giving her great honor, by Scorpion lights.”

As Devries pressed in, Jason spun and lashed out with a single blade, scoring a hit on her right shoulder.  His free hand parried two blows that should have opened his belly.  Spinning around, he lightly slashed her left shoulder, and then he dove backwards—out of her reach as she struck back.  Landing on his feet, he bounced up and forward—and he ignored her blades reaching out for him.  Struck in the right shoulder and his stomach, he slid both of his own knives against the back of her forearms—first the left, and then the right—and then he spun away again, dripping blood profusely from a half-dozen wounds.

Dancing across the sand, splattering it with his blood, he circled her as Devries assessed her own damage.  She snarled at him as she judged the blood loss to be in her favor, and knew that he could not continue for long.  She charged forward, slicing and slashing, a veritable dervish as her arms whirled.  And yet, none of her strikes connected with his flesh.

Jason parried every strike and sparks from the conflicting blades flashed in the arena.  He bobbed and weaved around her—and then one leg hooked out and caught her behind the knee, and he straightened.  She stabbed downward, and her knife drove deep into his thigh, but the two of them fell—Jason’s body pinning her other arm, her other knife.  Dropping one of his own blades, he clamped a hand on her knife buried in his thigh and held it there, while the other plunged down directly over her heart—and stopped just as it pierced the flesh enough to draw blood.

The stadium went quiet as Devries struggled, but the Scorpion warrior held her pinned, and the knife was poised against her sternum.  At last she relaxed her grip, and Danton called out DOWN, in a thunderous roar.

Jason pulled the knife away from her body, and staggered to his feet as medics rushed into the circle of equals.  Ignoring them, he turned to Colonel Wolf, and saluted, holding the bloody blade high as the Dragoons and their guests howled their wonder at his victory.

Rainbow 6 Re: The Seeker « Reply #16 on: June 15, 2009, 10:30:59 AM »

Nice.

Hessian Re: The Seeker « Reply #17 on: June 15, 2009, 01:20:39 PM »

Very nice!

scourge72 Re: The Seeker « Reply #18 on: June 15, 2009, 01:59:53 PM »

Awesome. Keep it coming!

Ice Hellion Re: The Seeker « Reply #19 on: June 15, 2009, 02:35:06 PM »

Always fear the Scorpion.

master arminas Re: The Seeker « Reply #20 on: August 12, 2009, 10:35:37 AM »

Chapter Four

January 27, 3056
Wolf Dragoon’s DropShip Artemis
Outbound to Zenith Jump Point
Outreach, Chaos March

“Star Captain, you requested my presence?” Lucien asked as he stood outside the hatch to the small cabin that had been assigned to the Scorpion who now held his bond.

“Aff, Bondsman.  Please come in,” Jason answered without looking up from the screen of the small—yet powerful—portable computer that bore an embossed scorpion upon its case.  Nodding as he continued to scroll through tiny lines of data, Jason finally sighed and sat back as he lowered the screen into the closed position, and then he rubbed his eyes and face.

“I could never have been a Scientist, I fear; the mere thought of spending the majority of my life, nose buried into an illuminated screen deciphering arcane symbology causes me to shudder.  And yet, we do as we must to serve our Clan, quiaff?”

“Aff, Star Captain.”

Jason pivoted the chair around to face Lucien in the cramped cabin, and then he cocked his head to one side—in either humor or frustration.  Lowering it, shaking it from side-to-side, he pointed at the single bunk.  “Please sit, Bondsman Lucien.  I have but the one chair, and I shall not ask you to squat on the floor simply to speak with you at eye level.”

The giant elemental warrior sat on the edge of the bunk, his weight under the pseudo-gravity of the DropShips acceleration causing the foam mattress to compress radically.

“That is better.  What do you know of your new Clan, Bondsman Lucien?”

Frowning, the former Falcon slowly shook his head.  “Little enough, Star Captain, other than the teachings of our instructors in the sibko and what my fellow warriors told me of your Clan.  I had never even considered being captured on the field of battle; which meant that I never sought out any additional information beyond what I needed to perform my assigned duties.”

Jason nodded.  “I imagine that you were told we Scorpions are nothing but hedonistic drug-addled nar-do-wells who waste our lives and resources digging up relics of the past, quiaff?”

Lucien’s face flushed crimson as he whispered back in reply, “Aff.”

“The cords that you wear about your wrist, Bondsman, in all of the Clans of Kerensky they are symbols of your new status.  Three cords; each of the finest silk strands; each of a different shade; each symbolizing a different trait which you must demonstrate to me in order to be declared abtakha and adopted into our ranks.”

“Among the Scorpions, the golden cord represents integrity.  We of the Scorpion value this trait—as do all true children of Kerensky—because it is beneath a Warrior to lie.  But here is where we differ from the other Clans, your former Clan included.  It is not enough to speak the truth, Bondsman; it is not enough to avoid deceit and treachery; it is your responsibility—it is your Duty—to avoid lying to yourself.  Do you understand?”

“Neg.”

“It is easy to live your life, Bondsman Lucien being truthful to others in a society that values such, as ours does.  It is a mark of honor to conduct oneself with integrity towards ones foes; which is why we are taught from the cradle to respect all Warriors—of all Clans—that prove themselves worthy of that title.  These are the easy steps of integrity.  The truly difficult task lies in acknowledging absolute truth within your own, well,” the Star Captain grinned as he shrugged, “let us call it your own soul.”

“To the Scorpion, a Warrior must acknowledge his own faults, his own doubts, his own failings.  He must steadfastly refuse to deceive himself, especially when to do so would be quicker, would be easier, would be simpler.  What is your purpose in life, Bondsman Lucien?”

“I do not understand the question, Star Captain.”

“Your reason for being, the purpose for which you are now here in the place that life has taken you and formed you into the man that you are.  You must have some idea.”

Lucien frowned as he concentrated on the Star Captain’s question.  Never—not once—in his twenty-two years of life had any of his instructors asked him such a question.  He did not know the answer.  He swallowed and wet his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.  “I am a Warrior of Kerensky—born and bred as a Falcon, Star Captain.  I live to serve my Clan.”

“That is a lie.”

The elementals eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to protest, but Jason interrupted him.

“It is not a lie of your conscious self, Bondsman, and you are not a liar because of it.  Such an idea, such a concept; this was never asked you before was it?”

“Neg.”

“And with good reason.  The other Clans believe that to serve the Clan is the complete and total sum of existence.  The Falcons—of which stock you are from—fear the dissent that such inner knowledge—such self-awareness—might stir in their ranks.  You still have the memories of the Culling embedded deep in your psyche; so much so that Falcons conform to the point where those who say things not sanctioned are officially shunned by their fellows.”

“They are not alone in that, for there are few Clans that would welcome such introspection among their ranks.  But we do.  We of the Scorpion expect our Warriors to examine themselves in minute detail, questioning why and for what cause we live and give our lives.  We expect our Warriors to know themselves, and to thine own self be true—to paraphrase an ancient poet.”

Jason leaned forward, his hands clasped together and his elbows on his knees.  “We want our Warriors to question themselves, to ask the difficult questions—the terrifying questions—about what lies beneath their surface.  It is our belief that by doing so, we are made stronger.  That through knowing oneself absolutely, we are freed to act without hesitation and remorse when we are called upon to do so.”

“The answer, Bondsman, is that you, and I, and every Warrior of Kerensky who has ever lived—be they free-birth or true-born—do have a specific purpose.  Would you like to know what that purpose is?”

“Aff,” Lucien whispered, mesmerized by intensity of the Scorpion Warrior seated across from him.

“The truth is that we are killers.”

Jason sat back and crossed his arms.  “Our purpose—our only purpose—as defined by the Great Father and the Founders is to kill those who would oppose the Clans.  Other castes grow our food and produce our weapons and heal our wounds.  They build our cities and generate power, but we—the WARRIORS—we do nothing but kill.”

“That is not true!  We protect, we defend, we . . .”

“Lies, all lies, that we tell ourselves to protect us from the truth of our own being.  Accept this, Bondsman Lucien, we are born and bred and genetically engineered to kill.  Oh, we kill for a higher purpose by defending those who cannot fight.  But we are killers at heart, in the core of our being.  That is our purpose.  It is a burden that Nicolas Kerensky laid upon our caste, so that the lower castes never have to face the horrors that we are expected to bear without question daily.  And only by acknowledging what we are, what our purpose is, can we move forward and become more than a mere Warrior.”

“We do not kill indiscriminately, Bondsman Lucien.  We follow rules and we live by honor, but kill we do with a precision and an efficiency that few others in history have achieved.  Because of that, the Scorpion feels that we must understand why we kill.  Killing in anger, over some dispute or disagreement—that is wrong.  So we teach ourselves not to simply accept, but to overcome.  When the Scorpion must kill, he does so—without regret, without remorse, and without anger.  He does so dispassionately knowing full well that he is taking a life.  But when we are not required to kill, then we do not.  The Scorpion never kills for pleasure, never for personal gain, but a killer he remains nonetheless.”

“It is a sad truth, but truth it is, my brother.  Many who would become Scorpion abtakha cannot accept this, but it is so.  And when you learn to no longer lie to yourself, when you learn to accept without reservation who and what you are truly are, then shall the golden cord be cut.”

“The red cord is representative of your fighting prowess.  Are you accomplished in that area, Bondsman Lucien?”

Lucien opened his mouth to answer, but then he stopped.  Don’t lie to yourself, a quiet voice inside whispered.  “I must not have been, Star Captain, for I was defeated and taken in battle.”

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitched as he forced himself not to smile at the disheartened warrior sitting across from him.  “Believe it or not, Bondsman Lucien, we learn from our failures.  That is something else the Scorpion teaches.  Answer this, in your sibko, if you failed in a test were you immediately taken outside and terminated?”

“Neg.”

“That is because without failure we cannot comprehend the reality of success.  As a child we learn in that manner, each successive time avoiding the mistakes of the past and adapting to the present.  And yet, having passed your Trial of Position, suddenly now you no longer need to learn, to grow, to expand?  The Scorpion does not demand that you always succeed; it demands of its Warriors that we always strive to our fullest possible ability—and that we learn from our mistakes what not to repeat in the future.”

“Tomorrow, and every day thereafter, we shall work together on this, Bondsman Lucien.  Do you know tai chi?”

“Only the basics we were taught in sibko, Star Captain.  There are other—more effective—fighting styles.”

“Then you do not know tai chi.  The Scorpion uses this form of moving meditation to allow a Warrior to learn about himself and to hone his body.  We are not like our brother Clans, Bondsman Lucien.  We do not accept randomness in the actions we choose.  Some say that our obsession with precision is a negative trait, but among the Warriors of the Scorpion, we see it as a strength, as a positive influence.  The Scorpion has but one true weapon—the stinger.  And while we may feint with the claws, to deliver our venom we must be precise in the application of that weapon.  So we teach, so we live, and so shall we die.”

“The kata which I shall teach you will give you time to learn about yourself, and to hone your body into a weapon—the stinger—directed by your thought, your spirit, your will.  On the field of battle, chaos reigns—but we stand aloof without neither passion nor empathy.  We are aware, Bondsman Lucien, of all that happens around us.  We place our blows with pin-point accuracy on the precise locations where our opponents are the most vulnerable.  Once you have mastered the basics, we will advance to armed and unarmed combat, and then—when you are ready and the red cord cut—you will once again wear a suit of Elemental armor as one of the deadliest creatures in all of creation—a Scorpion Warrior.”

“The final cord—the black cord—is fidelity.  Nicolas Kerensky selected the Goliath Scorpion for the manner in which it defended its nest, as well as the lethality of its venom.  All Scorpions—regardless of caste or rank—are now your brothers and sisters, Bondsman Lucien.  We kill to protect them; we kill to retain what we possess.  We give our very lives in payment to ensure the survival of our Clan and those who are unable to defend themselves.”

“Our commitment to fidelity, however, concerns far more than our fellow Scorpions.  We must show faith to what the Great Father and the Founders intended.  We of the Scorpion are Wardens—by and large.  And yet, seeing for myself what the jackals who rule this Inner Sphere have made of the worlds that were once jewels of the Star League, I question that we have followed the right path.”

“The Crusaders are wrong in their belief that we must conquer and rule the people of the Inner Sphere as chattel.  But we have been wrong in standing aside and permitting the vermin that call themselves Lords and Ladies to remain in power.  The Great Father called upon us—the Clans, though we were not such at the time—to return one day to protect the people of the Inner Sphere.  We have failed to live up to his command.”

Jason wryly smile and looked up at the elemental warrior before him.  “It is up to you and to I and to every Scorpion living that we learn from this and correct it.  We must be faithful to who we as a people are, and to what the Great Father and his son expected of us to accomplish.”

“When you demonstrate to me your absolute commitment to sharing that faith, then shall the third cord be severed and you will be declared as abtakha.  You will be inducted into the embrace of the Scorpion and you will become one with us all.”

“Go, and retire to your cabin for the remainder of the day, Bondsman Lucien.  Consider carefully all that I have spoken of; mull over these words in your heart of hearts.  For tomorrow,” Jason said with a smile, “tomorrow, you will begin to learn what being a Scorpion truly means.”

Ice Hellion Re: The Seeker « Reply #21 on: August 12, 2009, 01:10:43 PM »

And I thought the Cloud Cobras were the philosophers of the Clans 
This is why I always put the Scorpions in my top 3 favorite Clans.

blacktigeractual Re: The Seeker « Reply #22 on: August 14, 2009, 08:11:32 PM »

  Cool, interesting philosophy.

master arminas Re: The Seeker « Reply #23 on: August 24, 2009, 11:01:06 AM »

Chapter Five

April 3, 3056
Wolf Dragoon’s DropShip Artemis
Zenith Jump Point
Tukayyid, Free Rasalhague Republic

“THAT junked-out Merchant is what your people sent for you?” Cortez exclaimed into the silence that had descended onto the bridge of the Dragoon’s Overlord as the battered old JumpShip had entered the viewing ports.  He barked out a burst of laughter, while many of the other Dragoons looked away quietly.  “For such a Very Important Personage as yourself, Scorpion, this is the best your Clan can do?”

Jason gazed out through the viewing port with his hands crossed behind his back, the DropShips acceleration providing enough pseudo-gravity that he did not—yet—have to worry about free-floating in zero-g.  And then he turned to face the environmental systems tech.

“Appearances can be deceptive, Mister Cortez.  And considering that my mission—the second half of my mission, that is—will take me deeper into the Inner Sphere, would it not be appropriate to use a ship which does not appear out of place among the free-traders and general mercantile traffic?  GSS Jenna Scott may not look like much, gentlemen, but she is far more than she appears to be.”

The Dragoon commanding Artemis nodded in agreement.  “Just a run-of-the-mill Merchant class, eh, Cortez?  Nothing special, right?  Well, Mister, you just go on believing that, along with everyone else that picks her up on sensors.”

The old, white-haired man who had once lived in the Homeworlds turned to face Jason.  “Which one was she, sir?”

“Pathfinder, Captain Humphrey.  And she has an entirely new kit-bag of tricks to add to her arsenal as well, including a lithium-fusion battery and a hyper-pulse generator station.  Her guns have been rather thoroughly updated and expanded, and her armor replaced with the latest generation of lamellar ferro-carbide.  But for all intents and purposes, she still looks—and appears on sensor arrays—as an early-flight Merchant class; making her ideal for my purposes.”

“You can’t squeeze all of that into a Merchant, I don’t care whether you are Clan or not.  It won’t physically fit,” sneered Cortez.

“If you will recall, Mister Cortez,” replied Jason, “I never said she was a Merchant class ship—you did.”

As Cortez opened his mouth again, Humphrey spoke up, “Stow it Pieter.  That is something I never—in all my days—expected to ever see again; certainly not in active service; a Tracker class WarShip.”

Someone whistled as the bridge went quiet.  “Skip, are you sure?  I mean, there haven’t been any of those around since the early 2600’s?” asked one of the Dragoon fighter pilots.

“Sure I’m sure, Garnier.  First assignment I ever had as a Wolf free-born warrior was in the Clan Naval Depot.  I spent almost a year doing nothing but watching over a whole bunch of moth-balled ships floating in space, just in case the Dark Caste managed to find them.  There were three Trackers in the Exodus fleet, but they look so much like a Merchant I’m not surprised people got confused.  I have no idea how they ended up there, though.”

Jason smiled.  “It was a matter of bureaucratic confusion.  The three wound up moth-balled in the SLDF Alula Australis Naval Reserve Depot after the Reunification Wars.  They were supposed to be assigned to the Graham Depot for disposal—and the paperwork got bungled.  SLDF Naval Headquarters had copies of the original order for disposal of three Trackers at Graham, and an acknowledgement from the Graham Depot that there were no longer any more of that class in the Reserve.  Not that they had disposed of them, mind you, but that they did not have any to dispose of.  Some bureaucrat on first on Keid and then on Earth misread the communication and marked the ships off the naval rolls.  From that point forward, as far as the bureaucracy was concerned, the three ships at Alula Australis simply did not exist.  By 2685, the Depot commanders there had even quit trying to correct the snafu.”

“The Rim Worlds Navy considered putting them back into active service during the Amaris Coup, but they had their hands full with the rest of the Reserve—and Trackers were far too lightly-armed and armored to garner much attention.  So they sat there until the Exodus, when the Great Father’s staff found them still floating in orbit.  He needed every ship he could get his hands on, so they came with us on the Exodus; after which they were promptly mothballed once more, this time in the Clan Homeworlds.”

“At least until we dispatched the Dragoon’s on their recon mission, Captain Humphrey.  That same year, Khan Djerassi of my Clan petitioned the Grand Council for permission to reactivate the ships; the other Khans considered them almost worthless as WarShips, so he got them.  We rebuilt them—or rather had the Ravens rebuild them—and ever since they have quietly served in our Toumen.  We of the Clans do not always advertise when we are around, after all.”

Humphrey snorted.  “I know better—so do MOST of the original Dragoons—but you would think the rest of the Inner Sphere would be concerned over that prospect.”

“With the exception of your former Clan, Captain, those involved in the Invasion were not overly concerned with concealing who and what they were.  Even the Wolves in the end threw away any attempt to use surveillance and recon, relying instead upon their agreement with ComStar.  I would suspect that beside the Scorpions, perhaps only the Adders would have used such assets.  To the rest, it too closely resembles a deliberate lie.”

The Scorpion Star Captain turned to face his bondsman squarely.  “What is the difference here, Bondsman Lucien?”

The former Falcon warrior straightened in response to the direct question as he considered it carefully.  “Star Captain, the difference is that we are not telling a lie—directly that is,” he frowned as he considered his words.  Thinking like a Scorpion was so much different from his previous life!  “We do not make any statement one way or the other on the matter; if our opponent fails to see what is before him, is that our fault?”

“Most correct, Bondsman Lucien,” Jason said with a grin.  “Though some of the Clans of Kerensky would consider it a lie of omission, it is not a lie of commission; and thus, to the Scorpions not a lie at all.  There before us floats GSS Jenna Scott, and if you can not see clearly enough to realize she is more than she appears, why then that is your own fault and not ours.  Which is the reason that the Scorpion trains our Warriors to see and to understand all that which surrounds them; to question even the most innocuous event; things are not always as they appear to be.”

“Captain Humphrey, on behalf of my Khan and my Clan—and for myself as well—I thank you, Sir, for the voyage both to Outreach and back.  You are a credit to the Dragoon’s—and to the Clans.”

The old man nodded solemnly.  “It was a pleasure, Star Captain Scott.  Good luck—and good hunting, Sir.”

“Well, then, Bondsman Lucien, shall we prepare to transfer between ships?”

*****************************************************

”The data-packet and genetic samples have been transferred to the Orpheus, Star Captain Scott,” said the commanding officer of GSS Jenna Scott.  “She is preparing for her first jump back to the Homeworlds even as we speak.”

The Essex class destroyer was one of two openly acknowledged Scorpion ships that traveled regularly between the Homeworlds and the Occupation Zone.  This time the former SLDF ship had carried saKhan Nelson Elam for consultations with the IlKhan over some matter of dispute back home.  Her arrival had been scheduled to coincide with his own in order to carry back the codices of the Dragoon’s Scorpion warriors, giftakes samples, and sensor logs to Khan Surorov.

“That is excellent news, Star Captain Gregor; and our own departure?”

“First jump will occur in thirty minutes, followed by each successive jump every eighty-four hours until we reach your destination.”

“And the ceremony?”

“Everything is in order, Seeker.  Your instructions have been followed to the letter.”

“Then let us welcome to the nest our new brother.”

*****************************************************

Lucien had finished stowing his few possessions—mostly clothing—in the cabin he had been assigned aboard the Jenna Scott.  Unlike his quarters aboard Artemis, these were actually large enough for him to have enough room to stretch and pace.  Star Captain Scott had not been joking when he said this ancient ship had been rebuilt!  The corridors had all been widened, enough at least so that an Elemental Warrior in full battle-armor could walk two abreast with ample clearance to each side and above.  Not all Clan ships had featured such an extensive—and costly—refit; many, even in his original Clan, were too cramped to allow the use of standard battle armor.  On board those ships, Elementals were reduced to using light powered armor, little more effective than the original Nighthawk PA(L) used by the special forces of the SLDF.

He had been assigned a cabin adjacent to Star Captain Scott; so that he could be at his bond-holders beck and call around the clock.  It was clear, however, that Scott had sent word ahead, for the bunk had been designed for the elemental phenotype, and the overhead panels elevated almost a full half-meter.  Aboard Artemis, he had been forced to sleep on the deck, for the bunk was simply too small to accommodate his giant-sized frame.  He had not protested—of course!—because that was not the way the Clans worked.  One made do with what one had, after all.

The cabin even included a workstation console on the desk—with the chair sized for him as well, by the blood of Kerensky!—and while he was locked out of certain portions of the ship’s systems, he had full access to the educational and recreational materials stored within.  The former Falcon had almost neglected to stow his gear when he discovered the complete Remembrance on the console.  The Scorpion version of the Remembrance; so different from the Falcon telling he knew so well.  Scott had promised him that he would receive a copy when they got aboard, but he had not expected it to be on the network.

Curiosity had made him almost sit down to read it; but then his sense of duty returned.  First things, first, he had thought to himself.  And then, he noticed that there was an audio version!  So as he arranged his quarters and stowed away his gear, he could hear the voices of Scorpion Loremasters—beginning with that of Ethan Moreau himself!—reciting the epic tale.

The hatch to his cabin slid open with a hiss, and Lucien turned to see who was entering his cabin.

In the corridor beyond, there stood three Scorpion warriors—two men and one woman—garbed in full ceremonial regalia.  Each wore a tight leather body-suit, glossy black in color, reflecting the subdued lighting in the cabin and the corridor beyond.  Patterns of a dark—almost charcoal—gray piping outlined the ebb and flow of each warrior’s musculature, giving the uniform an almost segmented appearance and emphasizing the fitness of their bodies.  Their polished black leather boots reached almost to the knee; seamlessly meeting the body-suit legs bloused tightly inside, marked only by a ring of gold across the top of the boot.

Each warrior wore around his waist a belt of black metal links a hands-width across, secured in the center of the stomach with a clasp shaped like a scorpion with two golden eyes.  And on each of the belts were fixed a pair of scabbards holding two zulkari, the tasseled hilts pointing forward, tight against the warrior’s sides.  Black leather gauntlets—long enough to reach half-way to the elbow, and skin-tight—covered their hands and lower arms, a single ring of golden trim marking their upper edge.

The leather suits ended in a tight, high collar fastened around the neck, marked only with a golden dagger-star in the center of the throat.  Each of the warriors also wore a smooth, polished black metal helm, the face-plate made from dark reflective smoky glass making it impossible to see who was within.  Two more golden dagger-stars highlighted the helmet, but these were surrounded with a crimson outline; looking like nothing so much as a pair of hotly burning eyes.  Unlike many Clans—including his former one—there was no bare skin to be seen, nothing to soften the fearsome and intimidating appearance.

The female warrior wore a black cape as well, trimmed in threads of the finest golden silk embroidery.  Two clasps—formed of a polished black metal and gold, shaped in the fashion of a scorpion grasping a sun disk in their claws—were fastened to the upper torso, between her shoulders and her breasts, holding the cape in place.  Across her upper torso, a loose chain of black metal links, polished to the same glossy finish as the rest of his ensemble, connected the two clasps together as it followed the curves of her body across the leather.

“Bondsman Lucien,” an alto voice softly emerged from the woman’s mask, “the Scorpion requires your presence.  You are instructed to accompany us.”

Ice Hellion Re: The Seeker « Reply #24 on: August 24, 2009, 01:28:13 PM »

Puzzled I am...   

master arminas Re: The Seeker « Reply #25 on: August 24, 2009, 02:22:33 PM »

Over what, pray tell, are you puzzled?

Ice Hellion Re: The Seeker « Reply #26 on: August 25, 2009, 02:03:30 PM »

from: master arminas on August 24, 2009, 02:22:33 PM
Over what, pray tell, are you puzzled?

The initiation but I just wanted to say "I want more" without writing it down. 

master arminas Re: The Seeker « Reply #27 on: August 26, 2009, 09:34:06 AM »

Chapter Six

April 3, 3056
Goliath Scorpion Ship Jenna Scott
Zenith Jump Point
Meacham, Federated Commonwealth

The three Warriors escorted Lucien along the corridors of the ship, through hatch after hatch, before finally halting outside one unmarked compartment.  The woman pressed a short code into the keypad, and the hatch swung silently open.

From behind, another of the Scorpions pushed Lucien forward.  Inside, the room was bare, save for a reclining chair, and another hatch on the far wall.  A fourth Scorpion—a laborer, this one, lacking the ceremonial regalia—stood beside the chair, a towel across his arm, holding a razor and a pair of scissors in one hand.

“Obey him, Bondsman,” the alto voice emerged once more from the featureless helmet as the woman closed the hatch behind her, sealing Lucien and the laborer alone together.

“If the Bondsman would please disrobe,” the laborer said, bowing his head towards the floor, “and pass through the far hatch, we can begin.”

“I . . .” Lucien began to speak but was interrupted.

“If it pleases the Bondsman, he is neither allowed to address me, nor is he to question me.  Place your clothing on the deck in the spot outlined in black, please.”

Lucien frowned, but he closed his mouth and began to unfasten his tunic.

“Thank you.  When the Bondsman completely disrobes, he is to pass through the hatch before him.  Within there awaits three laborers.  He will follow their instructions and then return here once he has completed the task,” the laborer paused for moment, and then bent his head once more, gazing down at the deck.  “The Bondsman is not permitted to speak, he may not question; he must obey.  If it pleases the Bondsman.”

Nodding, the elemental stripped until all that remained were the three cords around his left wrist.  Lucien then folded his clothing neatly into a small pile, placing it in the center of the square tile outlined in black, laying his boots down upon the top of the clothing.  He turned and walked to the hatch, which opened at his touch.

Within lay a steam filled compartment, gurgling with the sound of rushing water.  The heat was extreme; the humidity worse.

A soft gentle hand took his forearm—a woman’s hand.  “If it pleases the Bondsman,” she said, “follow me.”

She was nude, as were the two other women laborers, and he followed them to another hatch.  Within was a lavatory.

The woman lifted a vial from a shelf and placed it within his hand.  “If the Bondsman pleases, enter, drink the contents, and return to us when he has recovered.”

She bowed, and backed out the hatch, closing it behind her, leaving Lucien alone—naked—in the small head.  The vial was filled with a clear liquid, and he unscrewed the cap and sniffed; there was no odor.  The mighty Elemental threw back his head and drank the liquid—it melted into the lining of his throat, entering his blood-stream.

Placing the cap back on the vial, he set it on the shelf.  Should I go back out now, he asked himself.  And then the pain caught in deep in his abdomen.  He began to sweat as his bowels roiled and barely managed to seat himself before they exploded.  And then he leaned forward to vomit into the sink.

*****************************************************

Sometime later, a pale-faced and shaken Lucien emerged from the lavatory into the steam filled area once more.  Immediately, two pairs of hands took his arms and guided him into a sunken tub filled with frothing hot water.

“The purgatives have cleansed you within, Bondsman,” the third woman said as she knelt in the water.  “Allow us to now cleanse you without.”

Easing him down onto an inclined seat in the tub, the women began to scrub every inch of his skin, while the bubbling waters soothed him.  Soon, he could no longer smell the filth from earlier.

They scrubbed him from head to toe, attacking even the smallest portion of his skin with soap and brushes.  And then they led him from the pool and made him stand in the center of the room, and lathered him—every inch of him below his jaw line—with a substance that lightly burned.  One of the laborers took a shower hose from the wall and rinsed away the lather with water as cold as ice.  With the lather went every hair from his throat down to the soles of his feet, leaving only pink, scrubbed skin behind.

“If it pleases the Bondsman, pass through the next hatch,” she said, “and there remain until one of us comes for you.”

Lucien passed through the third hatch—and recoiled at the immense heat from within.  The wooden floored sauna was roughly six feet across, with the heat emanating from a brazier in the center of the room.  A wooden pail filled with water sat besides the heat source, a long-handled ladle rising from within.  Lucien entered and sat, breathing in deeply of the moist, extremely hot air.

From a speaker mounted on the wall, he could hear the woman’s voice once more.  “If the Bondsman pleases, take one scoop of water from the bucket on the floor, and cover the stones.  He is to do this three times.”

The first dash of water sent a cloud of scalding steam into the air, and Lucien swayed as he began to feel light-headed.  The second scoop so filled the room that he could not see far past his nose.  Relying on his mental image, he then placed the third right atop the rocks, even as his head swam.

“Step back two paces, Bondsman,” the soft voice said from the wall.  “Step back; sit; and allow the steam and the heat to clear your mind of all thought.”

*****************************************************

Somehow—Lucien did not know how—he was back in the outer chamber, his arms grasped by the women.  He felt cold as they ushered him into a pool of freezing water.  He gasped as his overheated body suddenly cooled, but the laborers ignored his outcry, and they plunged him beneath the water, not once, not twice, but three times; and then they pulled him up once more and toweled him dry.

Two of them knelt, and the third lowered her head to the deck.  “If it pleases the Bondsman, he is too return to the outside.”

And then she knelt as well.

*****************************************************

”If it pleases the Bondsman,” the laborer standing beside the chair said, “will he sit?”

Still nude, Lucien sat in the chair and the laborer began to cut away his hair.  “All must go; all must be destroyed.  Through death we gain our life, our rebirth, our return into the nest.”

Lock by lock, Lucien’s hair fell away, and then the laborer set aside the scissors and briskly rubbed lather across his scalp, his cheeks, his neck, his upper lip.  He extended the straight-edged razor with a flick of his wrist, and began to closely shave Lucien.  Even the eye-brows were removed.

When he had finished, the laborer toweled Lucien dry, and knelt on the deck.  “If it pleases the Bondsman, he may now leave.”

The elemental turned to the hatch from where he first entered, and pushed it open, emerging into the corridor once more.  Waiting for him were three Scorpion Warriors who had first summoned him.

Without a word, the woman Warrior began to march down the corridor again, and Lucien followed, the two males in his wake.  Ahead of him, the corridor lights gradually dimmed, until the only light was flickering patterns of yellow and gold coming from an open hatch.

The female Warrior came to a halt just past the hatch and—turning around—she motioned Lucien in.  He stepped across the threshold.

Dozens—scores—of candles lined the walls of this compartment.  Instead of stepping onto metal, his bare feet touched cold stone; black polished basalt tiles that reflected the flickering tapers, enhancing their illumination.  Scorpion warriors stood around the room; how many Lucien could not tell in the darkness; all were dressed in their ceremonial uniform.

In the very center of the room, two candelabras of gold stood to either side of a low alter, made of black stone, and engraved with the scorpion symbol of his new clan, the lines filled with liquid gold allowed to cool and harden in place.  A chalice rested atop the alter, and past them both stood Jason Scott—the only Scorpion Lucien could see without the face-concealing helmet.

“Come, Bondsman Lucien; come forward and kneel here before the Scorpion,” the Star Captain slowly intoned.

Lucien advanced and he knelt on his right knee—and then two Warriors placed his left hand on the alter, holding his right tight behind the back.

“Taken in combat, taken in Trial,” Jason intoned into the darkness, “we have before us a Warrior who wears the three cords of bond.  This night, amid the stars that we long ago left to follow the Great Father into exile, we welcome into the nest one who may yet be a new Brother to us all.”

“The Scorpion seeks, Bondsman Lucien, and the Scorpion sees.  Through its venom we are transformed, and by its code we live and we die.  Like the Scorpion, we are patient; be warned that your cords may never be cut, for we do not give Warrior rights to those who have yet to prove themselves.  Your entire life may be spent in the quest to become abtakha, know this before we begin.”

“To be a Scorpion, one must have integrity, and fighting prowess, and fidelity; but one must also endure.  One must be welcomed into the nest.  One must willingly give himself into the grasp and the sting of the Scorpion.”

“Our sibkin are tested from early youth, until only the fittest among them claim the title of Warrior.  Our trothkin that surround you have endured; they have lasted and they have survived.  Our destiny may kill us, Bondsman, but our legacy shall persevere into the far distant future, when the Great Father’s vision is fulfilled.”

“En route to this chamber, upon this evening, you have been stripped bare of all that you possess.  This symbolizes that you—henceforth and forever—leave behind all that you were and might have been, abandoning your past to join with the Scorpion.”

“You have been cleansed—both within and without—purging all impurities.  This represents your willingness to forsake your prior teachings and open yourself to the Scorpion and his instruction.”

“You have been shorn of all hair, coming to us as bare as the day you were born.  Tonight, Lucien of the Falcons dies, and Lucien of the Scorpions will be reborn anew.  A new birth; into your new nest, into your new family, your Brothers and Sisters all.”

“If you wish it, Bondsman Lucien.  The path set before you is long; it is arduous.  Speak, and tell the Scorpion if it is your desire to tread the path of a Scorpion Warrior.  Speak!”

Lucien swallowed, but his gaze never wavered from Jason’s face.  “It is my desire.”

“Seyla,” intoned all of the assembled Scorpions in the chamber.

Jason leaned forward and lifted up the chalice towards the sky, somewhere past the deck above, somewhere outside the ship they were contained within.  “Seyla,” he said softy as he lowered the chalice.

“Take from me this golden chalice, Bondsman Lucien, and drink of what is within.  Drink until the chalice is drained.  Drink until the dregs are all that remains.  Take within you the necrosia distilled from the venom of the Scorpion and see with Scorpion eyes what may yet be.  Drink, honored Bondsman, and should you survive, you will be one of our own, a Brother to our nest, a Son of the Scorpion in truth.”

The Warriors holding him suddenly released their grip, and Lucien swayed for a moment.  Balancing himself, he reached forward and took the chalice from Jason’s hands.  Lifting it as he had just witnessed Jason do, he then lowered it.

[continued in the next post]

Chapter Seven

May 4, 3056
Goliath Scorpion Ship Jenna Scott
Nadir Jump Point
Pencader, Lyran Commonwealth

Lucien stood from his workstation and frowned down at the tiny screen on the desk.  He began to pace back and forth across the ships lounge.  Located on one of the ships two grav-decks, the small compartment retained its spin-gravity even as the massive vessel floated motionless to recharge its jump-sail.  Other Scorpions—some Warriors, some not—looked up at the Elemental as he paced back and forth, his head slowly shaking.

“Are you experiencing difficulty with your studies, Bondsman Lucien?” Jason asked from where he leaned against the frame of the compartments open hatch.

“Aff,” the former Falcon replied, his pacing not slowed one second by the brief answer.

Jason grinned, a grin returned by several of the warriors present.  “And that difficulty seems to be?”

Lucien stopped and looked directly at his bond-holder, his face showing signs of the emotional distress the Elemental was suffering.  “This material . . . it makes . . .  it does . . . it is not the Way of the Clans!” he wailed.

“On the contrary, Bondsman, the philosophy of Rousseau was a central part of Nicolas’s ideals that formed our society.  Rousseau believed that only through the instrument of civilization was humanity uplifted to true consciousness—in his native state, without the dictates of society, man is neither good nor evil, but submits to his instincts and needs without concern for the approval or disapproval of others.  It is only once civilization and with it society has been established that humanity becomes able to reason—and that ability outweighs all that which the native man sacrificed in order to embrace society.  Only within a society can a human being be ennobled—by an idea, a concept, or a cause.  Rousseau stipulates that when the voice of duty takes the place of physical impulses and the right of appetite, does man, who so far had considered only himself, find that he is forced to act on different principles, and to consult his reason before listening to his inclinations.  In short Bondsman, what the philosopher is saying is that without our Duty we are nothing more than unthinking animals—and that is precisely the basis on which Nicolas Kerensky created our society—to restrain our desire to return to that native state wherein society would collapse in anarchy and ruinous conflict.”

Lucien stared at the Scorpion, his mouth agape as Jason recited the exact passage that he had just finished reading!  “But what has that to do with our purpose, Star Captain?  What has this philosophy to do with anything related to our duty?”

“Everything, Bondsman Lucien.  It has everything to do with our duty and our purpose.  Our Clan believes that in order to serve our society—our Clan—we must understand our society and how it came to be.  We must understand ourselves and what makes us who we are.  You are not just an Elemental Warrior, Bondsman Lucien, you are a living, breathing, thinking human being, one that has just as much value in absolute terms as any ilKhan or a common laborer—no more, no less.  In order to appreciate that, you must first learn to leave your natural state, as Rousseau terms it, and discover your ability to reason.  No other Clan would condone you reading such material—indeed, you might go your entire life without ever hearing the name Rousseau, or Locke, or Hobbes, or Voltaire.  But you are Scorpion now, Bondsman Lucien, and we demand more from you than other Clans.  We Scorpions demand that you become a human being, instead of a Warrior cog that while it may serve has no awareness of self or purpose.”

Jason smiled as the massive warrior continued to shake his head.  “But that is enough of philosophy for today, Bondsman Lucien—it is time to see what you have learned of the katas in which you have been given instruction.  Come.”

*****************************************************

As the two men walked through the corridors of the grav-deck, they passed by members of the ship’s crew.  Suddenly, Lucien spun around blocked a crewman that reached out with a stun-stick in her hand.  Jason stepped back and observed as his charge snapped the woman’s forearm, causing her to drop the weapon, and then the Elemental pivoted on his heel and set himself, thrusting one outstretched palm forward to catch a second attacker square in the solar plexus.

“Bravo, Bondsman, bravo,” Jason said as he clapped.  “How did you know they were attacking?”

Lucien shook his head.  “I just tried to do what you showed me, Star Captain, to pay attention to things around me.”

“But what specifically, Bondsman?”

“I . . . I saw the technician tense as she passed me—or I thought I did, I wasn’t certain, but I reacted . . .”

“And had she not attacked you, your reaction would have been to parry a blow that would never have been launched.  Instead, you stopped an attack that could have potentially incapacitated you—because you have learned to become aware, Bondsman Lucien.  And the second attacker?”

“I heard his boot scrape on the deck plating, and I decided to catch him off-guard by letting him think he had caught me by surprise.”

Jason nodded in satisfaction, but also held up a hand in warning.  “And if he had anticipated that, you might have paid dearly for the mistake.  This time, however, you were indeed correct, Bondsman.”

The blood-named Scorpion bent down and assisted the woman tech—who Lucien suddenly realized was none other than the female Scorpion warrior who had escorted him to his necrosia ritual—to her feet.  “There is no permanent injury, quineg?”

“Neg,” she replied.  “Just a broken arm—although I think he might have cracked some of Samuel’s ribs as well.  He is certainly a strong one.”

“Very well, Star Commander—report to medical.”

“Yes, Star Captain.”

Jason turned back to Lucien.  “Come then, Bondsman, today we begin instruction on the proper use of knives in combat.”

Chapter Eight

May 9, 3056
Goliath Scorpion Ship Jenna Scott
Pirate Jump Point
Circinus, Circinus Federation

“Attention on deck!” sang out one of the ship’s Elementals as Jason and Star Captain Gregor Ben-Shimon entered the crowed briefing room, trailed by Jason’s bondsman.  The assembly of Warriors and ship crewmen quickly stood as the master and commander of their ship stepped over the hatch coaming.

“As you were,” Gregor said with a languid wave of one hand.  “Take your seats, people, and listen up.  We are about to find out exactly why we are so far from home, and I for one do not care to miss an important piece of information because someone was not paying attention.  Quineg?”

“Quineg!” roared the attendees in response.

The naval officer nodded and sat down in the chair reserved for him at the very front of the audience.  “You may proceed, then, Star Captain Scott.”

“Thank you, Star Captain Ben-Shimon,” Jason answered as he stepped forward to a small podium and lifted the remote that gave him access to the projection screen behind him.  “Circinus, the capital of the so-called Circinus Federation,” he said as a planet zoomed into view.  “This periphery state consists of a dozen worlds and is little more than a collection of bandits and dezgra mercenaries unable to secure employment elsewhere.  With just fifty percent of the planetary surface being covered with water, Circinus is an arid world, with the land masses generally being dry and lacking in atmospheric humidity.  There are exceptions, but unless Star Captain Ben-Shimon arranges for Jenna Scott to make a crash landing, I doubt they will concern us today.”

Chuckles filled the compartment as the Scorpions present accepted Jason’s invitation for laughter—even Gregor smiled slightly.

“Currently, the Jenna Scott is at the Lagrange Point immediately star-ward of Circinus, which means that we will be able to land one of our Wild Onagers after just nine hours of flight time—saving us rather more than six days of powered flight had we arrived at either the Zenith or Nadir points.  Recharge time will be one hundred and eighty-four hours and seventeen minutes, as of this very moment, although our good commander does have our reserve charge on standby.  I, and a small contingent from this vessel, will be taking the Alpha DropShip to the surface.  Once there, Star Commander Tomas will attempt to sell his cargo, preserving our identity as a wandering merchantman.  While we are grounded, myself, Bondsman Lucien, and Star Commander Amanda Djerassi will see if what we have come so far for is actually here.”

The Scorpion paused and looked around the compartment at the men and women who were waiting.  All had heard rumors of what Lucien’s vision during his ritual had revealed, and now they were on edge to find out exactly how much truth lay within it.

Jason smiled.  “Yes, there is a chance—a small chance—that an heir of Richard Cameron may indeed be living upon Circinus.  According to a portion of a journal that once belonged to Aaron DeChevilier, in the year immediately before the Coup, First Lord Richard Cameron forcibly raped one of the young women of his household staff, and then attempted to have her tried for assaulting him.”

A low muttering growl rose throughout the compartment.  Although not prudes in any sense of the term, the very concept of one forcing himself upon an unwilling partner was almost unknown in Clan society.  Almost.  For it occasionally happened, and when it did the judicial response was swift and extreme.

No longer smiling, Jason nodded in somber agreement.  “He was quite a bastard, quiaff?  However, Aaron DeChevilier personally smuggled the girl off Terra in defiance of Richard—and he never told Kerensky what had actually happened.  The woman was pregnant, and she bore a child—Richard’s child.”

“Years later, when the SLDF left their encampment on Circinus to begin the liberation of the Hegemony, she and the child remained behind.  DeChevilier’s journal records her name, and also that she decided to remain in the Inner Sphere when the SLDF left on the Exodus.”

“Now, in addition to searching for this woman’s descendants—who according to our traditions may be free-birth, but are eligible for a restored Cameron Blood Name—I also intend to see how intact the old SLDF facilities on the minor continent of Laredo are.”

Gregor frowned, and Jason paused so that the ship commander could frame his question.

“Nothing in our pre-departure briefing from Khan Suvorov even suggested that the Circinian ruins hold any remaining value for us.  Those facilities have been looted for nearly three centuries, Star Captain Scott.”

“Yes, the training facilities on the main continent of Circinus—High Plains—have been quite thoroughly looted during our prolonged absence from the Inner Sphere.  But, Laredo is uninhabited and it was that continent—not High Plains—that was the location of General Kerensky’s headquarters complex.  Furthermore, contrary to public opinion, the SLDF did build factories on Circinus, all underground on Laredo.  Those factories turned out massive amounts of munitions and parts to resupply and support the SLDF during the Liberation and afterwards—and when the SLDF departed, they mothballed those facilities and hid them.”

Another officer spoke up.  “Are you certain they have not been found, Star Captain?”

Jason shook his head.  “Neg.  But, a discovery of this magnitude would have attracted the Scavenger Lords like vultures circling a rotting carcass in the midst of the desert.  No one could have kept a find of this level secret—except ComStar, and they would have destroyed the facilities.”

“I plan to travel to Laredo—with Lucien and Amanda—and find out for myself and my Clan if these facilities still exist; and if they do still remain intact, whether or not we Scorpions will be the ones to use them in the future.”

Wow, very interesting! Looking forward to much more. 

And next, you will have Judge Dredd's gun 

I watched the old John Wayne movie 'El Dorado' this week--and I just having this picture of Mississippi with his saw-off 12-gauge pistol in my mind when writing this section.  But I needed something bigger, since Lucien is an Elemental.  So, I thought why not a drilling?  Look it up, it is a real-world weapon, but I doubt anyone ever made one so big in a pistol version!

MA

Got to clean this thread up - nice job!