By David C. Daoust
Far and wide, the city-stations throughout the Onion were ruled by the Royal Alliance. Through most of recent history they existed as these ‘remnants of the past’- where those of the populous that simply did not wish change- held out for, well, not something more, so much as… more of the same.
While the Viceroys and their Cronies ruled these stations, they were not against selling off portions of these old remnants. Especially as their populations diminished thanks to the mass migrations that followed the Final Will of the Assembly. Mostly they were sold off to the Trade Consortium- usually as a staging ground for new business, or just ports to move their goods throughout the vastness of the Onion. Ultimately, it was more about tariffs and taxes…
They would, at some point, be referred to as ‘Fractured City-stations’; home to many of varied ideologies, that would still argue their ground. Truth be told, these stations all resided within the orbit of Juniper- the unterraformed ‘dead’ planet, that was a central fixture of the Trade Consortium.
All this was true, with one exception– the City-station known as ‘Alpha Prime’.
Older than the Viceroys, older, still, than the ‘Fractured’ stations; Early Capitalist Movements made huge strides to free Alpha Prime, all while the Trade Consortium was just a nameless wisp of an idea. This station would become the Capitalist Refuge from a system still steeped in the Old Ways of Ark Age. Fat cats, tycoons, and powerbrokers would stride these corridors, setting up the central bank that would eventually drain the Royal Bank… But ultimately, Alpha Prime was known for housing every main stock exchange throughout the solar system… even to this day.
It was here, this day on Alpha Prime, that Bernard Vice found himself a completely different man. Well after the Final Will had dissolved the Assembly of the Ark Age, birthing the Confederation, yet close enough that the gunfire of the Crucible Riots still rang in his ear… All before the Factions War that would eventually lead to the oversized corporations crushing the capitalist dream of the Trade Consortium, to leave only the vile stench of Corporatism.
While Bernard had become a shipping magnate in his own right, his now dear friend, Zeke Otomo, had set up his own businesses. Businesses that were in actuality Fronts for his Intelligence Operations. Central Fixture of said front- ‘Otomo Tower’, just off Main Street, well within Central District, Alpha Prime.
With the eradication of human trafficking, the old days of blood and horror had faded away. This day, when Bernard Vice appeared on the scene, he was not covered in dried blood- eyes wide, heart pumping with the thrill of the kill. Instead he was decked out in the finest of suits, with one of the sexiest little blondes he could pluck from the local population on his arm. Truth be told, he still had that jagged knife sheathed safely under his coat, along with a hefty handgun holstered under one arm. But that was more about old scars of a highjacked life than expecting to actually need any of it.
Following close behind him was the rather ugly mug of a man named ‘Dutch’, a strong-arm he’d picked up in the Riots. He’d been a big help, proved himself fully. Dutch had been following Bernard around ever since; Bernard felt he must be a smart man.
Dutch had a squeaky little mouse of a girl, goes by the name of Adel, posing as his date- both of them, also, dressed to the nines. The two were quite the pair… As harmless as Adel seemed, she was actually one of the Unheard. And Bernard would rather take on Dutch, if it ever came down to it.
Bernard’s date was a bit more mundane- a waitress from a local restaurant, the ‘Sun or Moon Diner’. Bernard knew she’d look good in that dress, Bernard had an eye for these things (high-spatial reasoning came with his rather unique mind), and he needed a date.
The four just crossed the threshold into the lobby of Otomo Tower, all dressed up for tonight’s big event:
Zeke Otomo was getting married!
Bernard led the small party of four through the soiree- it was well on its way to being the biggest event of the season. Behind the respectful murmur of congregating people, a low unobtrusive melody played in the background of the open ballroom, pocked with men in varying sizes of the same suit, and women in long flowing gowns strolling around the room. Each woman bathed and perfumed in a different scent- which, mixed with the clean white flowers that seemed to spill from every corner, or crowd around every pillar, filled the room with a clean, pleasant scent, which in turn was carried by a cool breeze flowing throughout. The air seemed to be just the right temperature to keep everyone comfortable as caterers walked the floor with trays of food, bringing sweet smells, that were sure to make one’s mouth water.
The woman next to him, was amazed at the sights; at the entire environment, really. As a waitress employed within such a small dive of a diner, the whole experience was well with-out her means.
Bernard was eager to please, eager to share his good fortune. It was not the first time he had taken this girl out, though, in truth, she was merely one more in the long chain of women he had spent his time with to fill the time in between the long search for that one girl. The one that had been dragged away; abducted. The one that he had tracked into the belly of all those slaver ships. Even now, as successful as he had become, he had failed to find her. Her face still haunted his mind, everyday when he awoke, to the last image of his mind’s eye before he drifted into some unfulfilling dream…
So, when he saw that face in the crowd, shifting behind the limitless swirl of people… he did a double take. Her eye had caught his. He was sure of it. There had been a recognition in those familiar eyes… Before he could act, she vanished again, behind the shifting crowd.
Bernard studied the room. Dutch had taken his place at the entryway, while Adel found the only other exit. The pair weren’t really there so much, as ‘guests’, so much as Bernard’s bodyguards. They both, in turn, cast him a quizzical look, which both, in turn, he ignored.
Bernard moved swiftly throughout the milling crowd. A bit more hastily than could be civilized, he searched the crowds around him. He had lost her, just as quickly as he thought he’d found her.
His date however, trying to maintain a demure look that may help her blend in, found herself dragged behind, and hard pressed to try and make his strange behavior look super casual as soon as it ended- if it would just end already!
Luckily for her, the song changed. This change was a signal, for all those attending, that the ceremony was about to begin. (The lucky part was that those that noticed Bernard’s erratic search, suddenly had something else to think about.)
The crowd was cut down the middle as the long silky white rug was rolled down the center of the open ballroom. All the guests were corralled to either side of the room. Some having to cross over to their respective sides; groom’s side/bride’s side. There were no chairs, such things were not customary for such a ceremony (Many of those flowing gowns were not meant for sitting).
Bernard tried to assure his date he was alright, despite his long neck craning around in the hopes of catching just one more glimpse.
The problem, of course– despite the minister appearing upon the raised platform at the front of the room, where the heart of ceremony would take place– the groom was not yet present.
Something was not right. Something deep within his mind was telling him that things were not adding up. There was a twitch at his side and an impatience building within him. His brain was like this sometimes. Sometimes, he swore, it knew things before he did.
The woman hooked to his arm, that sexy little blonde, started to feel like a weight anchoring him down; clawing at him. He wanted to break free, go and look. Check with his friend, Zeke. He glanced again, behind him at Dutch– he looked concerned. Dutch knew him well enough to know something was not right. The distance between them, kept them from discussing it.
Bernard’s mind went wobbly and he spotted her again; that familiar face. This time he recognized it as a trick of his mind. Mainly, because the face seemed to shift over random women’s faces. Some sort of dysmorphia, not letting him see their true features. It developed into a kind of pattern, leading him to the front of the room. He knew, somehow, she was asking him to follow her.
He pulled away from his date, asked her for a moment, and she pardoned him with a small smile. Dutch was already moving towards him; Bernard straightened his lapel as he caught up. People quickly shifted out of their way as the two men moved towards the front of the room.
The entryway to the ballroom was now closed. All knew the bride waited patiently behind those doors, she awaited her signal to begin the march down that white rug. The minister seemed to be peering at a side door, unconcerned, yet probably wondering whether the groom was going to show. Considering he was a Minister of Eternal Night– he was surely getting paid either way.
Bernard led the way through that very side door. A door which doubled as the only other entryway into the ballroom, which meant Adel was poised there to meet them. Dutch took her place at the door, as Adel followed Bernard through. His mental might told him this was the way, and he was, as always, compelled to satisfy his rather unique mind.
It was a simple backroom, set aside for such events, nicely decorated with small couches throughout. Separate doors led to separate dressing rooms. The far door led out to the outer hallway that looped around to the entryway they used to enter the ballroom. Bernard was surprised to find, not the groom that he sought, yet the very bride he was so sure was standing behind that entryway- waiting for her cue.
The Bride sat stiffly on a couch, back straight- seemed to be doing nothing but studying the floor. Her eye caught Bernard’s as he approached. For a moment she was surprised- Bernard could read it on her face.
“Patricia?” Bernard asked, half inviting her to make some sort of explanation, but mostly just trying to read her expression. There was a moment of exasperation that told him he was compounding her problems, the darkness that crossed her brow showed something serious was, indeed, going on… all that vanished and a smile erupted there. A forced, fake smile, but one that asked him to play along.
Adel’s mousey visage split into a smile as well as she positioned herself in front of him.
“Bernard,” the bride rose and signaled them both closer, “Please, come in. Sit, right here,” as they took the offered seats, directly across from her own she then leaned in and whispered, “try not to move.”
Bernard and Adel could only share quizzical looks as the woman launched into an extremely unorthodox greeting, as though she was not expected at a wedding at this very moment at all, and they were, in fact, just visiting for tea- or some such frivolous thing…
Suddenly she went silent, something stirred, a strange electric zap could be heard, and the very air seemed to change. Stealth fields dropped. That was when the violence erupted around them, that was when the figures appeared from nowhere.
The warriors of the Ark Age- covered from head to toe in high tech armor were, suddenly, full on assaulting each other.
Bernard and Adel were in the thick of a battle before they even knew it.
Bernard’s hand slid under his coat to grip the handle of his trademark knife. All the while trying to figure out what was what. Whose side was he even on?
The Bride clued him in as she sent a surprise kick into the nearest one’s jaw, sent him a few feet into the air before he landed solidly on his back. She pulled a long straight sword, previously held haphazardly hidden within the folds of her gown, and she drove it down- impaling the man’s heart. It was not hard to guess that Zeke’s bride, Patricia, was also a trained Constable. Without stopping she spun back up with a roundhouse kick, her gown twirled around her, as blood spattered in an arch from the now bloodied blade. The kick however was blocked, and answered with a swift blow to the woman’s abdomen, sent her sailing to the floor.
Another of the armored foes grabbed at the Bride from the other side. Adel was quick to pounce, the unbreakable razor-sharp wire was pulled from her bracelet and wrapped around the attacker’s neck in one fluid movement- a movement that ended with the downed constables head rolling free from its body.
Adel was scary. She was not, however, a match for the trained-from-birth assassins they now faced. That first one was mostly luck; she quickly found herself unconscious on the floor. Bernard pulled his knife and lunged at the man that just did the deed… the knife gashed at the armor; it did not penetrate. He jammed his elbow forward into the man’s covered face. His jagged black knife was no match for the material the armor was made from, so all he gained from the following strike was a sore elbow.
His weapon could do no harm, but Bernard was not without his own experience. Mostly he was forced into a series of blocks, until at last he managed to grapple his foe into a throw. Perfectly performed, yet the assassin landed on his feet like a cat. Bernard thrust again with his knife to no avail. There was just that moment, where he wondered what Adel’s garrote could possibly be made from, before he saw the sword coming directly at his face…
The blade did not meet its mark. An armored hand caught it, and blasted the blade to smithereens with a mere flex of the gauntleted hand.
Bernard whipped out his gun, point blank fired it three times into the now disarmed attacker’s head. The foe went down, knocked out cold, yet, still, his bullets did not pierce the armor.
Bernard half expected the gunfire to bring Dutch barging in. Followed by random wedding guests, trying to peer in from there place in the crowd… if not flat out evacuating the building. None of that happened. The door to the backrooms remained closed. Bernard could only wonder why.
Without speaking a word, the constable that had moments before saved his life, turned and renewed his assault alongside Patricia. The two made short work of the remaining combatants. Every time one got knocked for a loop, Bernard got in there and, point blank, bounced a couple bullets off the foes helmet. Followed quickly by Patricia’s blade impaling their hearts. They put them down, fast and efficient. The enemy was growing thinner. Until the last one managed to extract himself from the battle entirely. Full retreat, the last combatant vanished through the far door- and quickly activated his stealth field.
Zeke Otomo ripped the helmet from his head as he greeted Bernard warmly.
His bride Patricia, beamed, as she fell into his arms. They were both fully charged from the battle, both, very much, feeling the love.
Adel stirred from the floor, unharmed.
The wedding went off without (another) hitch. Mostly thanks to the sound dampening device the well trained couple had set up when they detected an ambush incoming…
Later, Bernard would learn of the growing threat of the Vanguard. Later still, that the loss of those particular members, led to the all-out assault that would, in less than five years, trigger the Factions War.
But what really haunted him, was the appearance of that woman. Was she a ghost come to guide him? Did she die long ago- had he already truly failed? Despite his ongoing search?
Or was her appearance at the wedding just a figment of his imaginative mind, tricking him into action? And if so, was she ever real? He tried to think back to those years before. Tried to remember if he had ever met her in the real world. Was she real or had he just invented her as a connection to a wrong, an injustice, he found in the world? And used it to goad him into action? These were the questions he silently asked himself. Never spoken aloud, less he learn he was a madman- Or worse, others may learn he was a madman.
These were the drawbacks of his unique mind.
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