Aetheral Space

It was quiet. Too quiet.

As Sam emerged from the wound of another corpse, he quickly took in his surroundings. That was important, after all -- this very well could be the last place he'd see. A cold metal room, the ceiling nearly spherical, with a hallway leading off into the complex proper.

And, apart from them, it was empty.

Oh, this is such bullshit.

There was no way it was going to be this easy. The enemy knew they were coming, and they knew where they'd be coming from. If they had all that information to hand and didn't have any guards posted, it went beyond incompetence and into insanity.

Before he could voice his thoughts, however, the Widow grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled him firmly out of LYCHGATE's twin. Alcera glared daggers at the old woman as she manhandled him, but if the Widow noticed the hostility, she didn't acknowledge it.

Her grey eyes narrowed as she glanced around the chamber as well, releasing Sam and dropping him down to the floor.

"The Thinker's Comet," she said grimly.

"What?" Morgan looked over his shoulder -- he'd been standing ready with his sword, prepared for the first attack.

"I've been here before," the Widow replied. "They've changed the decor somewhat… but the smell is the same."

"So it is the AWL behind all this, then," Sam muttered, picking himself up. "But that's… this is crazy."

The Thinker's Comet was no ordinary star station. Along with the Sheshanaga and the Alec Alexander, it was one of three known vessels in the Supremacy capable of independent light-jumps, without the need of a lightpoint. To take a vessel like that behind enemy lines… what was the Absurd Weapons Lab thinking?

Before he could open his mouth to ask another question, though, an involuntary shudder slid down his spine -- and an involuntary flash of his blue Aether lit up the room for a moment.

As the violet Aether ping ran over her as well -- her Aether cloaking let it pass uninterrupted -- the Widow glanced at Serena, who was leading the pack.

"Did you find anyone?"

Serena shook her head. "If there are other Aether-users nearby, they must be cloaking like you."

"There almost certainly are," the Widow grunted. "And they almost certainly are."

Wolfram raised his fists as if he were about to take on an invisible boxer. "You think we're being watched right now?"

"Again… almost certainly," the Widow tightened her grip on her cane. "They'll have prepared a grand reception for us. Personally… I don't see a way forward but to take part. Agreed?"

She didn't wait for a response, and she didn't need one.

The group darted forward, Aether of many colours dancing around their feet as they charged down the hallway. Sam glanced off to the side as they proceeded through the path they'd been given -- the hallway was lined with glass windows, looking out into the starlit void of space. Far below, he could see the snowy planet, the home of the Sed, slowly turning.

Ruth Blaine would be fighting the Weapon down there right now. He wondered how she was doing.

Sam bit his lip worriedly --

-- and just as he did, the windows slid open.

Death by depressurisation was not a pleasant thing to experience. Sam was unlucky enough that it wasn't his first time… but he was lucky enough that it wouldn't be his last time either.

Only I.

"Personally…" said the Widow. "I don't see a way forward but to take part. Agreed?"

As they darted forward, running through the hallways, Sam turned to look at his commander.

"They open the windows," he said hurriedly. "We all get sucked out into space. Your head pops."

"Remotely?"

The Widow didn't even miss a beat when being informed of her own gruesome death. Sam nodded.

Immediately, the Widow raised her arms -- and blasted a torrent of freezing wind down the length of the hallway, transforming it into a tunnel of ice and sealing any mechanisms that could have spelt their doom.

"If they want to kill us," she said bitterly. "They'll need to do it with their own two hands."

Their hosts seemed to take that to heart.

The floor burst upwards… the ceiling fell inwards… and automatics of every shape and size rushed forth to fill every inch of available space.

Sam Set braced himself.

Only I.

Blood sprayed.

Only I.

Limbs flew.

Only I.

And on and on they went.

The doors to the living quarters slid open, and Tybalt del Sed stepped through them.

His hair was in a severe bun, and his eyes were cold. His Ego was in control right now, a persona of pure logic -- dedicated utterly to the mission. Two shadows followed him as he strode into the room. A dancing jester, a void of a smile opening and closing in silent laughter, and a snarling wolf, illusory drool dripping from its exaggerated jaws.

The children of the Sed shrank away as he passed them. He was one of the people who had brought them here, after all. Even if there were no bars in this place, it still felt like a prison.

He stopped.

He looked down.

For the first time since he'd entered the room, he blinked.

"Annatrice." he said to the girl before him.

Annatrice didn't quite realize it, but she'd backed up as Tybalt had approached -- and now her back thumped against the wall. She looked up at him like a deer in the headlights.

"What?" she asked, mouth dry.

Tybalt del Sed smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Erica wants you."

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"I feel I must congratulate you," the air rumbled.

Immediately, the group skidded to a halt, ready to retaliate against the voice that had sounded out in their midst.

Morgan Nacht held out his sword. Serena del Sed prepared her own invisible weapons. Alcera Nox readied her combat knife. Wolfram brought up his fists. The Widow lifted her cane. Sam Set hyperventilated.

"Finally, some service, yes?" the Widow smirked, stepping out of the group and looking around the massive room. "I was wondering how many of your toys we'd have to break."

Behind them, all the way down the hallway, was a graveyard of metal. The Absurd Weapons Lab had sent no shortage of automatics against their opponents -- from standard combat models to retrofitted Executioners, they'd come for their enemies with lethal intent. If not for the strength the group possessed and the utility of Only I, they surely would have taken some losses.

Before them was, without a doubt, an arena. A massive square space, with a smooth white floor that seamlessly transitioned into identical walls. A plethora of observation booths lined those walls, visible only as panels of black glass from this side. No doubt the researchers of the Comet were on the other side of those windows, making notes on what they were about to see.

The Widow clicked her tongue.

"Well?" she barked. "Have you some weapon to test against us, then, lion? Get on with it."

"Ah… so you're already aware. A pity."

An elevator opened up on an elevated section of the arena, and it's occupant stepped out. Heavy paws thumped against the smooth floor. Crimson eyes stared down at their gathering.

The feline Section Chief of the Absurd Weapons Lab, Blackmane, stepped into the light. He was indeed a lion.

"I like it better when it's a surprise," he narrowed his eyes.

"The name already gives it away somewhat," the Widow scratched her nose. "But you haven't answered my question. This is a testing site, yes? This whole thing is an experiment. What are you testing, and what are you experimenting on?"

"I'm grateful to you, you know."

The Widow narrowed her eyes. "How so?"

"You've done very good work for us, all of you. You struggled most magnificently to survive. That was the illustration of mankind's nature we needed… and now you've come and delivered the test results right to our doorstep. How could I not be grateful?"

The Widow sniffed. "I see. So breaking free of the experiment is itself part of the experiment. How disheartening."

"You were only given the one hallway," Blackmane pointed out. "You've only moved along the path laid out for you."

The Widow nodded to herself. "I see, I see. We're rats trapped in your maze, you say? Well, if that's the case…" she raised her cane like it was a sword, pointing it at the distant beast. "...I can think of no more fitting opponent than yourself, cat."

She glanced sideways at her companions.

"Proceed," she ordered. "I'll dispose of this one here."

"Proceed?" Blackmane scoffed. "Were you not listening? This testing site has been laid out in advance. There's nowhere else for any of you to --"

A bow was pulled taut. An arrow was fired. A voice cried out.

"Radiant Almighty!"

As Morgan Nacht's arrow struck the far wall, melting through the white material like it was snow, the room trembled -- and crimson emergency lighting consumed the chamber, as if the entire space had been soaked in blood. Blackmane stared aghast at the massive hole Morgan had created in the wall, leading into the maintenance tunnels beyond.

"Are you mad?!" he demanded. "What if that had led out into space?!"

Sam patted Morgan on the back. Right before Morgan had unleashed his attack, Sam had leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Not much: just a direction.

"Yeah," Sam smirked with trembling lips, looking up at Blackmane. "I bet that would have sucked."

"As I said," the Widow thumped her cane against the ground. "Proceed."

The group charged for the hole Morgan had opened -- and a sequence of hatches opened up on the walls to intercept them. Turrets sprouted forth, each aiming for the group as they passed, each preparing to fire…

…each freezing over into uselessness as the Widow's cold wind brushed over them.

"Foolishness," she said sternly. "Did I say you could divert your attention like that, Blackmane?"

The crimson eyes of the black lion turned to look back at her. A low growl rumbled out of his throat, even as his disembodied voice spoke.

"It doesn't matter. I take it their goal is to take control of the Comet? That's easier said than done. Do not forget, madam, the name of our Lab."

He leapt down from his platform and landed before the Widow, red Aether sparking around his paws as he rose up before her.

"We have weapons in excess."

Something appeared, something that had previously been hidden in the Section Chief's shadow. A white sphere the size of a head, floating through the air, with a network of lines running over its surface like a microchip. It hovered unaided over Blackamne's shoulder, like a devil whispering in his ear.

The Widow made no unusual movements as she beheld it, but…

"I see you recognise what you're looking at," Blackmane commented. "It seems we both have discerning eyes, madam. Perhaps you've seen the fake they've got in that gaudy museum? No matter. This is the Brain of Granba…"

His body growled once more.

"...also known as the One Promise."

Annatrice del Sed stopped.

Tybalt turned to look back at her -- and called out, his voice deadpan. "What is it."

They'd stopped in the connection between one sector of the Thinker's Comet and another -- a massive white staircase, lined with cold metal railings. Even though it led upwards… it certainly didn't feel like that to Annatrice. She stayed put on one huge step, while Tybalt looked down at her from two steps up.

"I asked you what it is." Tybalt said, his cold Ego staring out of his eyes.

"I'm…" Annatrice swallowed. "I'm not going with you."

"Yes, you are."

His face didn't so much as twitch as he heard her refusal. Well, of course it didn't. Annatrice had no doubt that this man had anticipated she might try and back out like this. It wasn't as simple as just saying 'no'.

And yet…

"No," she said, glaring up at him. "I'm not. What you've got planned… what Erica has planned… you're going to start the Sed back up, aren't you? I'm… I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going back there ever again."

Tybalt slowly blinked. "You're acting based on a conclusion you've leapt to. Do you understand that."

Annatrice braced herself. "Tell me I'm wrong, then."

"You're wrong." Tybalt said immediately.

"I don't believe you."

"No." Tybalt turned fully to face her direction. "Of course you don't. You're acting based on emotion. By this age, a person should understand that's not how you best interact with the world."

He walked forward, descending a single step -- and as he did, the Superego crawled into his body, ejecting the stoic figure of the Ego.

"Now, come on, Annatrice," Tybalt smiled kindly, his entire demeanour shifting in an instant. "Do you believe me now? I bet it's a lot easier when I'm not acting all creepy and emotionless, huh? We're not gonna do anything bad. I swear to you, one-hundred percent."

The tension in Annatrice's shoulders began to relax, and she let out a shuddering breath. For a second, she was tempted to give up on this little rebellion and just find out what Erica wanted…

…but Serena had said, hadn't she?

The Superego's words could drain away people's will to fight.

"Are you using your ability on me right now?" Annatrice asked, her mouth dry, looking up as Tybalt's merry shadow fell over her.

Tybalt blinked. "No," he lied.

Annatrice stepped back --

Ego Emulation: Gustavo Mordecai!

-- and Gustavo Mordecai lunged forward.

The shard of glass he'd been concealing in his back pocket clashed with the dagger Tybalt whipped out -- and the two pushed against each other, their faces inches apart.

"Ah," he sighed. "And it could have been so easy, you know?"