Many years ago...
Marie Hazzard was running for her life.
That in itself was nothing new. Over the hundred years of her existence, she'd chosen to run away countless times, survival being her focus over victory. She knew she was strong, exceedingly strong in fact, but she was by no means omnipotent. Destroying those who pursued her -- for crimes she'd never been around for -- was simple, but doing so came with the risk of exposing herself to other enemies.
In this case, however, the pursuer chasing her through the mines of Aelos was particularly persistent. He wouldn't give up on the hunt -- she'd have to lure him to a secluded location and dispatch him quietly.
As she sprinted through the mine tunnels, Marie morphed her legs -- the relatively normal limbs shifting into something more akin to a cheetah. Her speed increased accordingly: Marie had never measured it exactly, but just from eyeballing it she estimated she was able to run just about five times faster than a human in peak physical condition.
Marie put a hand to her head as she rushed down the mineshaft, feeling the wound there close as her cells rushed to fill the gap. A surface wound like that wasn't something to worry about for a Gene Tyrant like herself, but psychologically the stress caused by having a bleeding gash in your skull couldn't be denied.
She hadn't even seen her attacker this time. She'd barely had time to open her apartment door and see the remains of her crew before nearly having her head sliced in two. Since then, she'd been running. The presence of the enemy had been completely concealed until the moment the blade had sliced her flesh.
In this case, she couldn't afford to hold back -- the precision and speed of that strike had told her all she needed to know about her opponent's strength.
As Marie ran, her body continued to change. Her fingers hardened into talons, her teeth sharpened into fangs, and the pupils of her currently-green eyes split into three as she upgraded their internal structure. The dull surface-level view of the mines shifted into a perspective infinitely superior, her improved perceptions enabling her to witness details lesser creatures couldn't even comprehend. Half the colours she was seeing were outside the range of human understanding.
Even without that heightened perception, though, she was still intimately familiar with the layout of the Aelos mines. In the first place, she'd gathered her now-deceased crew here to try and lay a trap for the King of Killers, Eli Masadora, and take his crown. All that was out of the window now, of course, but it meant she knew the best place to lure this new enemy. She'd set a trap and finish him off before he knew what happened.
Marie skidded to a halt as she reached her destination -- a great circular chamber through which the bounty of this mine was transported. Mining equipment was littered throughout the chamber, and thin transport pipes trailed from alcoves in the wall up to the ceiling. None of that was what caught Marie's attention at that moment, however.
What caught Marie's attention was the fact that her enemy had beat her here.
The man standing in the center of the chamber looked back at her through the golden visor of his mask. Not an inch of skin was visible -- the hand on his sheathed sword was clad in a black glove, and the rest of his body was concealed behind a tightly bound black-and-gold robe. Marie would be tempted to call it a dress from the length, completely covering both his legs and feet. Even with his flamboyant appearance, however, the sheer murderous intent radiating from the man was undeniable.
"You are very fast," he said quietly.
His voice was an utter contrast to everything else about him -- calm, nondescript and bearing a strange sense of… humility. He sounded more like a random civilian grabbed off the street than a deadly warrior.
Even so, Marie knew this man by sight. There weren't many people who wouldn't. She'd thought it might have been him after that flawless first blow, but she'd honestly hoped it wasn't the case. This was Nigen Rush, the golden sword of the Supremacy.
When people spoke of the skill of swordsmen, it always came with qualifiers.
Bieshu del Mar, the Origin Companion, was the best of the Supremacy's first age.
Samson Rhodes, the Abyssal Knight, was the best to oppose the Supremacy.
Achilles Esmeralda, the Grand Executioner, was the best of the last generation.
Nigen Rush was the best there ever was.
Just by looking at him stand, looking at him breathe, Marie could tell that was true. She was a creature able to consciously manipulate her own genetic structure, yet she still found herself in awe of the man's composure and self-control. There wasn't so much as a micro-movement out of place.
And yet he'd made such a stupid mistake. Marie's face spread into a bone-crackingly wide grin, made ugly through malice.
Even though the mines of Aelos were a relatively small operation, they were still considered vitally important for one reason -- the resource they extracted, rhydome. It was an exceedingly rare resource, and the number of planets it could be found in barely reached the double-digits, but it's primary function was such that it simply could not be ignored.
The red stone was used to make Neverwire, the Aether sealant -- and the walls of the chamber they were standing in were lined with it.
Without touching Rush, it wouldn't seal his Aether completely -- but the sheer density of it, even in the air, would reduce the strength of that Aether to almost nothing. In his haste to intercept her, this man had doomed himself.
She didn't bother responding to the corpses statement -- instead, she began her attack immediately. Each of her arms split into three flexile tentacles, tipped with claws of bone, and speared towards Nigen Rush from different angles. They were aimed specifically so that the hits would land simultaneously -- if Rush blocked one, he'd be run through by the other five in the same instant.
There was a flash of gold from Nigen Rush's sword.
A second later, all six tentacles exploded into small and equal pieces, cleanly cut. By the time the blood and flesh had fallen to the ground, Rush had already sheathed his sword again.
Marie blinked dumbly as what was left of her arms retreated back to her body, assuming their normal structure once again. She took a halting step back. She was absolutely sure that the strength of this man's Aether had been reduced by the rhydome -- did that mean he'd done that with just his base physical capabilities?
"Nine centimeters by nine centimeters," Nigen Rush said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Do you know what that figure represents?"
Marie reallocated interior biomass from one of her arms to the other -- hidden behind her back -- and formed a new pair of tentacles, this time tipped with drill-like structures. They lashed downwards, tunneling through the ground and -- a second later -- striking from beneath Nigen Rush. This time one was aimed at his skull and the other at his groin.
Rush took a casual step forward, avoiding the strike, and again the tentacles were sliced apart into small pieces with a flash of his golden sheath.
He continued speaking as he strolled casually towards her. "While Gene Tyrants generally possess a brain to store additional information and aid with mental processing, it is not their seat of consciousness. The mind of a Gene Tyrant is distributed throughout their entire body. In essence, your body in its entirety is your true brain."
New organs, specialized for internal durability, coalesced within Marie's body -- and a second later, she used them to belch forth a stream of burning acid. She altered the shape of her mouth, too, so as to widen the range of the attack -- it would strike not only Rush's current position, but the areas to his left and right as well, where he may try to dodge.
The curtain of acid came down, scorching the ground and melting through even the rock. Acrid smoke rose up from the blast radius -- but Marie's enhanced nose did not detect the scent of burning flesh.
"As such," Nigen Rush said. "It is exceedingly difficult to kill a Gene Tyrant."
Marie looked up. Nigen Rush was now standing on a metal walkway above the lake of acid, as unharmed as ever. Had he jumped up there before the acid had reached him? Even with her vision enhanced as far as biology could support, she hadn't even seen him kick off the ground.
Rush began walking to the left, towards the set of narrow metal stairs that led back to ground level. "For example, if I were to cut off your arm, the part of your consciousness present within it could continue to morph and manipulate that limb to launch attacks against me. By cutting you apart, I would risk simply increasing the number of enemies -- effectively, giving you an advantage. However…"
There was a sudden thump behind Marie -- and when she grew eyes in the back of her head to locate the source, she saw that metal fire doors had sealed the tunnel she'd entered through. Similar seals had appeared in each of the other tunnels that led into this chamber -- essentially, she was trapped.
Stupid, stupid.
This was her own fault: the acid she'd launched had created smoke, triggering the fire sensors. Had Rush intended to trick her into doing that, or had she just made a tactical error? The results were the same either way.
Nigen Rush was still speaking.
"...your ability to retain consciousness among your body parts is not perfect. You can't, for example, control each individual drop of blood."
Using a massive clawed hand, Marie hurled a boulder towards Rush's destination, utterly smashing the stairway. This didn't deter him in the slightest. As chunks of rock and metal fell, he simply hopped from piece of debris to piece of debris in order to reach ground level -- effectively using a new stairway that existed only for a fraction of a second.
He was around eight meters away now, and when Marie looked at his sheathed sword she could feel an unholy chill wash over her body. It was as if she was being embraced by her own ghost.
"The reason you can't do that," Rush said, stepping forward. "Is because there's a size limit. If a severed piece of your body is nine centimeters by nine centimeters or less, it doesn't have the space necessary to store your consciousness."
I'm gonna die. That thought, the first of its kind, settled over Marie with the certainty of a heavy sheet.
Immediately, she turned on her cheetah-like heel, ready to at least put some distance between herself and the swordsman -- but in the moment she moved, he did as well, and her legs were shredded to mincemeat before she could even register the sensation of pain.
Marie's legless body went flying from the force of the flurry, smacking into the stone wall face-first -- demolishing the front of her skull -- and rolling undignified across the ground.
It took her less than a second to grow new eyes -- but by the time she had, Nigen Rush had already destroyed both her arms and her fledgeling attempt to regenerate her legs. He was standing before her, his golden sword unsheathed and pressed against her throat.
"Therefore," he concluded. "If I disassemble your entire body into pieces of nine centimeters by nine centimeters, you will die."
It wasn't over. She still had other avenues of attack. She could generate poison gas within her stomach, or belch forth more acid from closer range, or just become a mass of spikes and launch herself at him, but… but…
...in the face of this man's intensity, all effort became futile. It was like trying to challenge a golden sun -- even trying to approach was foolishness. You'd be burnt away to nothing.
"Your kind are indeed the strongest organisms," Rush said apologetically. "But that is only in the realm of 'living things'. So long as you fear death, and it lives eternally in your mind, you will lose to those who do not. Do you have any last words?"
Her vocal cords regenerated just in time to allow speech. "Please," she spluttered, blood pouring incessantly from her mouth. "Please -- please don't."
"I'm sorry. I've been asked to eliminate you."
She felt the tip of the golden blade, deathly cold against her throat. This fight had shown her enough that she knew she'd be dead if she tried anything from this range. Before she could do so much as blink, she'd be reduced to pieces of nine centimeters by nine centimeters.
It was too much. One hundred years of fear and pursuit flowed as tears from her eyes. It wasn't elegant or dignified -- she was crying like a baby, snot pouring from her nose, her wailing echoing off the walls. She knew that this was a truly pathetic way to die, and yet she couldn't stop. This was her death, after all. She'd be pathetic as she liked.
"Please!" she screamed, begging for her life. "No no no no no! I don't want to die! Anything! I'll do anything! Just don't kill me! Please! Please! I'm sorry!"
At any moment in her rambling entreaty, Marie expected the golden blade of Nigen Rush to come down and end her. It never did. It didn't move from her throat, but the disassembly she expected never came.
"You wish to live?" he asked. Quiet sympathy had infiltrated his voice.
She nodded as much as the remnants of her body would allow, the stubs of her arms and legs twitching. "Please, please, please…"
The golden sword retreated into its sheath.
"There is an alternative," Rush said.
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Present Day…
The first thing Marie Hazzard felt as she woke up was annoyance.
She’d specifically reduced her own hearing capabilities to help herself fall asleep -- leaving only the bare necessities for threat detection -- and yet somehow the partygoers on the Mansa Musa had managed to wake her up anyway. It wasn’t like she needed sleep, exactly -- she could refresh her body and mind any other number of ways -- but the irritation of being prematurely awakened was universal.
Marie climbed out of bed, her skin rippling as she checked her body for any toxins she may have ingested over the night. A second later, the results came back clean. Apart from the usual, she hadn’t been poisoned. The five Needles throughout her body hadn’t been disturbed either.
The quarters above the Mansa Musa were as opulent as expected -- a sprawling double-bed and furnishings fit for a queen -- but the soundproofing of the walls had apparently been a stickling point in the budget. Marie did her best to ignore the flaring music from above as she made her way from the bedroom to the shower. Honestly, if even she couldn’t get to sleep, how was anyone meant to get some shut-eye around here?
Perhaps that was the point, Marie reflected as she washed herself. When it came down to it, the Mansa Musa was a party boat -- a constant celebration of nothing, a gathering place for people to eat and laugh and fuck until all the stars burnt out. Most importantly, it was a place to spend your money. To people like these, in a place like this, the purpose of a bed was to prove you could afford it -- not to sleep in it. It wasn’t even so bad for a creature like her -- the purpose of her slumber was to consolidate the information she’d absorbed over the day -- but for petty humans like these, the effects of going without sleep must have been disastrous.
Marie found herself more and more grateful for her perfection every day.
After drying off by heating her body and getting changed into a simple white dress, Marie set off in search of Atoy Muzazi. She couldn’t imagine he slept either: he hadn’t been vocal about his distaste for the extended wait aboard this starship, but his emotions showed up on his face all the same -- or perhaps she was simply better at spotting them than most people. In any case, if he was awake, Marie knew where she’d find him.
It was around a five minute walk from Marie’s room to the ship’s training dojo -- a holdover from when this place had actually been a Supremacy warship.
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The installation was old-fashioned: a smooth squeaky floor and wooden benches on either side of the room, with a large space set out in the middle for training. A massive window, taking up one whole wall, looked out into the gulf of space -- but at the angle the ship was currently flying at, there was nothing visible but dark. The view inside was much superior.
She couldn’t say how long Atoy had been in here, swinging that shiny sword of his, but he looked positively exhausted -- sweat dripping from his loose and long hair, soaking through his training robes, flying into the air with every practice swing. He offered her a weary nod as she stepped through the doors -- she returned a casual wave, glancing towards his audience on the benches. A few young women and men she could’ve sworn she saw at the party above, watching Atoy train with obvious interest. They didn’t seem to be athletic types, so she couldn’t possibly imagine what had fascinated them so.
Well, she could sympathize. Atoy did strike quite the figure as he trained, even if his stance was disgusting.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Atoy panted as she approached, sheathing his sword. “Did you sleep well?”
“Of course,” Marie casually lied, flipping her hair back. “It takes a lot of rest to look this good, you know. Has that idiot arrived yet?”
Atoy frowned. “You shouldn’t speak about a Contender of the Supremacy like that, Officer Hazzard. I’m sure he has concerns above our stations. A mission from the Supreme, I would imagine.”
Oh, Atoy. He was good company, but the bootlicking got a bit sad after a while. Sooner or later, he’d have to learn that the world didn’t deserve his faith in it.
“Roger dodger,” Marie replied, offering a lazy salute. “You’re one-hundred percent right. Wouldn’t want to talk bad about a Contender of the Supremacy. Is he here yet?”
Atoy’s frown disappeared at that half-assed show of respect. “I received word he’d arrived two hours ago. He’s currently in the main hall, enjoying the festivities, as I understand it. Do you think now would be a good time to report in?”
“No time like the present,” Marie sighed, turning on her heel with a loud squeak. The hands of Atoy’s little audience flew to their ears -- she took a little satisfaction in that. “I’ll be damned if I’m spending another night on this ship.”
As the two of them left the dojo, Marie made a show of sniffing the air. “You need a shower, by the way.” It was true -- she was sure her fellow Special Officer had been training for hours already by the time she’d walked in. He had that kind of adorable diligence, like a loyal puppy.
Atoy’s brow furrowed. “Are you certain? I can’t imagine the esteemed Contender would want us to delay.”
“I can’t imagine he’d want to meet with a drowned rat, either,” Marie replied, reaching out and holding up a strand of Atoy’s soaked hair between two fingers. “See? You look a mess. You have to show respect to these sorts of people, right?”
He took a step back, hair pulled out of Marie’s fingers by distance. “You’re right,” he sighed, stopping outside the door to his own room. “I’ll quickly refresh myself, and then we’ll proceed to the Contender.”
“No problemo,” Marie said, stepping into Atoy’s quarters the moment the door slid open and sitting herself down on the comfy bed before he could protest. “Go ahead -- I’ll wait here.”
The protest never came, just another exasperated sigh as Atoy headed towards the bathroom and locked the door. A second later, she heard the shower switch on, water buffeting against the floor. As she waited for her partner’s return, Marie idly fidgeted on her lap.
No better time to ask, she supposed.
“Atoy,” she called out. “Are you a fan of Nigen Rush?”
“What?” he called back.
Clearly, the water was too loud. She adjusted her vocal cords a little, allowing herself to speak louder than her default setup would usually allow. “Are you a fan of Nigen Rush?” She winced as she shouted -- she’d forgotten to adjust her hearing to account for the increased volume.
There was a moment of silence, and Marie considered raising her voice even more -- but then Atoy finally answered.
“I’ve always considered him to be… something of an inspiration. How did you know?”
“When you were training just then,” Marie said wistfully, staring up at the ceiling. “And when you fight normally, you use a similar stance. Not the same, but similar. So, what? He’s, like, your idol or something?”
“I don’t know if I’d put it like that. It’s just…” he sighed. “He’s an ideal to strive towards. A farmer’s son from a backwater planet, growing up to become the most skilled swordsman in the entire Supremacy -- the leader of the Seven Blades, even. It’s the sort of story that captures the imagination. I suppose I wanted to be Nigen Rush. That’s why I use the same style.”
Marie put a hand to her throat, remembering the cold golden sword. “He died, you know. In a duel with Baltay Kojirough.”
There was a moment of silence, and then: “Yes. I’m aware.”
“You still wanna be like him?”
“It was a good death -- an honourable one. One warrior facing another, with their lives on the line. I couldn’t hope for better.”
Marie became aware the water had stopped running nearly a minute ago. All that was left was the stray dripping. They’d just been talking through the wall at each other like idiots. Ironically, it was much easier to be honest when you couldn’t see the judgement on the other person’s face. Still…
“A good death, huh?” Marie whispered, so quietly that no one but herself would ever hear it. The indignity she’d gone through back then ran through her mind -- the begging and the pleading. She vaguely wondered if Rush had done the same when his turn came. “I don’t know if there’s anything like that.”
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“I apologize for our lateness, sir,” Atoy Muzazi saluted, valiantly ignoring the situation before him. “I understand you have a mission for us.”
He and his partner, Marie Hazzard, were standing before the Contender Wu Ming, the Clown of the Supremacy, in the main party hall of the Mansa Musa.
The ship was truly a wonder to behold. In this hall, at least, nearly every surface was coated with gold -- from the walls to the floor to the tables, and from what Muzazi understood even some of the food had gold dust sprinkled atop it. The Mansa Musa was home to a party that had been going on for five years straight now as it circled a nameless star -- the partygoers switching out, but the celebration itself never ending.
It was good to see that the Contender was getting into the spirit of things and honouring the Mansa Musa’s traditions, too, even if… even if his way of doing so made communication somewhat awkward. As Wu Ming lounged in the golden couch that had been provided, he was passionately canoodling with another guest -- who Muzazi was certain the Contender had not known prior to arriving mere hours ago. As he kissed, Wu Ming held up a single finger indicating that Muzazi wait, and so the Special Officer stood at attention.
Finally, Wu Ming broke free of the embrace -- and in the same breath flicked a grape from the bowl before him into his mouth. He chewed as he spoke: “Good to see you, yeah, good to see you both. Name’s Wu Ming. Yourselves?”
It was somewhat comical that the Contender thought they wouldn’t know his name, but Muzazi nodded in appreciation all the same. He thumped a fist over his heart as he spoke passionately: “Thank you for your accommodation, sir! I am Atoy Muzazi -- Special Officer of the Supremacy! Myself and my partner are at your disposal!”
Ming raised a pierced eyebrow before glancing towards Marie. “Nine out of ten introduction. You both as formal?” he asked, a slight smirk playing across his lips, his Umbrant nature providing his voice with that curious doubling effect.
“Nah,” Marie grinned impertinently. “You kept us waiting, asshole. What do you want?”
The smirk widened some, and Ming dusted off his many-coloured tuxedo. “Ten out of ten introduction. You’re wanting to get straight to business, then? Sure I can’t tempt you with some booze or some food?”
Before Muzazi could open his mouth to reply respectfully, Marie spoke up. “You called us here two days ago, and we’ve had enough booze and food for months in that time. What is it you actually want us for?”
Ming waved a vague hand as he lounged back on the couch, arm looped around the shoulder of his companion. “Sorry about that, sorry, sorry. I got distracted catching up with an old friend and totally lost track of time. That was one-hundred percent my bad. Big apologies.”
“Okay. What’s the mission, though?”
“Right, right,” Ming snapped his fingers as if trying to conjure his powers of concentration back into existence. “This is probably confidential or something, so…” He glanced towards his companion. “Hey, can you go away, please?”
As the woman got up and left, face red with outrage, Ming leaned forward in his seat.
“We’re not leaving the room?” Marie sighed. Muzazi had to sympathize: although it was of course an honour to meet a Contender of the Supremacy, it felt as if this short conversation had been going on for months.
Wu Ming shook his head. “Nah, nah. Something you guys should understand about me -- I like to live a ten-outta-ten life full of enjoyment and happiness. Now, I’m willing to make concessions sometimes, bring that down to an eight-outta-ten if that’s what’s required, but six-outta-ten is my absolute limit. If it goes below that, people are gonna get killed. I sent her away, and she seemed nice, so right now we’re at about nine-outta-ten. Let’s just keep it there, okay?”
Muzazi blinked, but nodded all the same. “You mentioned this may be confidential.”
Ming nodded, steepling his fingers on the table before him. His black-and-green eyes stared forward intensely. “You guys ever heard of a planet called Nocturnus?”
“Nope,” Marie shook her head.
“Not a surprise. It’s an outta-the-way kind of joint, population of just a few thousand. Barely important in the big picture, except a lot of Panacea passes through it on the way in through neutral space. Not many people realize it, ‘cause it’s kind of a thing that’s happened organically, but around eighty percent of the Panacea that the Supremacy uses passes through Nocturnus at some point -- not at the same time, not in the same amounts, but eventually, it’ll be there.”
“It’s strategically important, then,” Muzazi mused, putting a hand to his chin.
Ming snapped his fingers. “Correctamundo,” he said. “It’s a vital link in the supply chain, and the military command’s not eager for folks to know about that. Don’t want the UAP getting any slick ideas about attacking come wartime, right? Hence why recent events have got them sweating bullets.”
“And what are ‘recent events’?” Marie asked.
A smile completely unsuited for the situation spread across Ming’s face. “Murders,” he said slowly, tongue tasting the word like a piece of chocolate. “Three so far -- all vital members of personnel for Panacea transport, all ritually displayed, all… well, eviscerated. Started three weeks ago, with a new victim coming out each week. Like episodes of a videograph show, right?”
Marie clicked her tongue. "We're not exactly the investigation type, you know. You'd have better luck--"
Enough -- Muzazi knew that Wu Ming appreciated a certain amount of candor, but he couldn't simply stand there and allow Marie to be so disrespectful so consistently. He stepped between her and the Contender, cutting her off as he himself spoke up apologetically.
"I beg your forgiveness, sir," he said. "We'd only be too happy to investigate the matter. Given what you've said, I take it you'd prefer we deal with this quietly, yes?"
Ming snapped his fingers and pointed to Muzazi. "Right. Head to the planet, figure out who's behind the killings, and take care of 'em. Whether you kill 'em or bring 'em into custody is one-hundred percent your choice. Sounds like fun, right?"
"Of course, sir."
"What the little lady was saying about not being investigation types," Ming went on, leaning to the side so he could see Marie past Muzazi. "That's no sweat. I've sent another Special Officer ahead who specialises in these kinds of cases. He'll be taking care of the actual deduction side of things -- you just need to deal with the culprits once he points the finger. I've already sent the Nocturnus coordinates to your ship -- get going whenever you're ready."
"Thank you, sir," Muzazi nodded.
As he turned to leave as quickly as he could, he grabbed Marie's arm to pull her along. However, she didn't budge in the slightest -- her feet as stubborn and unmoving as the roots of a tree. She stayed standing there, looking at Ming as she lifted an inquisitive finger.
"Officer Hazzard," Muzazi hissed. "Please."
"One sec, one sec," Marie said with the kind of reassurance that wasn't very reassuring at all. "I get the stakes here -- if the murders stir up too much attention, and the UAP or the Final Church find out how important Nocturnus is, it'll be a prime target when war breaks out. But why do you care about that?"
Wu Ming's grin widened slightly, even as the look in his black eyes remained ice-cold. "Whadda ya mean? I'm a servant of the Supremacy, just like you. It's only natural that I be concerned."
Again, Marie ignored Muzazi's insistent tug on her arm.
"But the way I've always heard about it," she went on. "All the Contenders really care about is surpassing the Supreme. You're supposed to be sort of above stuff like this, right? If the Commission was giving us this mission, or a military guy was directly ordering us to do it, I'd get it -- but why are you yourself personally assigning us to this? It just seems a little weird to me."
Wu Ming blinked.
The tension in the room suddenly increased, as if invisible hands were holding Marie and Muzazi down to the ground, slowly crushing them against the floor. The babble of the party fell to utter silence, and the music system in the corner skipped once, twice, thrice. Muzazi could clearly hear his heart beating in his chest -- and he was sure the Contender could, too.
"Right now," Ming said quietly. "We're at a seven-outta-ten. You sure you wanna keep going?"
Off in the distance, someone popped a bottle of champagne -- and the moment passed. The music and laughter resumed, and Marie just threw her hands up in exasperation.
"Nah," she sighed. "I know when my luck's pushed. Come along, Atoy."
Marie turned on her heel, and began walking out without waiting for Muzazi to follow. It was left to him to offer Wu Ming an apologetic bow, and then jog out after her.
"I wish you wouldn't behave like that," he grumbled, catching up to her in the hallway. "It shows us in a bad light."
"What?" she responded. "Act like myself? You know you love it."
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As Nocturnus finally came into view -- two starpoints later -- all Muzazi could think of was how cold the planet looked. A giant snowball, orbiting around a white dwarf star. He tapped a few buttons on the console, locking in their flight path to the planet's primary settlement. From there, their ship would proceed automatically to the landing dock.
"Are we equipped for extreme conditions?" he called back over his shoulder.
Marie winked as she poked her head out of her bedroom. "You know I always come prepared, Atoy," she said, holding up two parkas. "What's your colour, red or white?"
He considered it for a second. "White."
"You'll take the red one, then," she chirped back, tossing the red parka at him before he could protest. "It's good to get out of your comfort zone."
Muzazi sighed as he pulled the parka on, zipping it up as far as the garment would allow. The hood felt fluffy against the back of his head. "You're very unreasonable, you know that?"
"It's one of my most charming features," Marie replied, throwing her own parka over her shoulder as she threw herself into the copilot's seat. She winced as she looked at the approaching pale planet. "It's a little grim, huh?"
"I'm sure the people who live here are fond of their home."
"But it is a little grim," Marie persisted. "Rose-tinted glasses can only do so much. You know why they call the place Nocturnus? I looked it up on the way."
Muzazi shrugged, his hands on the console. "I assumed it was simply dark down there."
"Well, yeah, but do you know why it's so dark down there? It's because of a lunar eclipse -- the moon blocking out the sun, you know? Apparently, the rotation in this system is really slow, so that same lunar eclipse has been going on for around five-hundred years now -- and it's gonna keep going on for another fifty or so."
Muzazi nodded. "It's akin to the party on the Mansa Musa, then. I understand that hit the ten-year mark not long ago.”
Over in the copilot's seat, Marie sighed to herself, a strangely wistful look in her crimson eyes.
"Mm," she said. "Anything eternal becomes meaningless. All the details get stretched out into oblivion."
For a moment, Muzazi considered asking his partner what exactly was wrong -- but then the ship shuddered into life as they began their final approach, demanding his full attention.
The ship zoomed down to Nocturnus.
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Muzazi had to admit: Nocturnus was fairly grim.
With the eclipse above providing only the tiniest ring of white light, the majority of illumination was either completely artificial or given off by the local flora. There were plants like grass nearly everywhere outside of the main settlement, their blades tipped with dimly glowing bulbs. Wherever those plants didn't grow, there was nothing but sheer darkness -- and nearly everything was coated in a substantial layer of snow.
The settlement itself wasn't much better. The cuboid buildings that comprised it were clearly prefabricated, plastic structures clipped together like children's building blocks -- the closest thing to a unique quality being whether the building was white, red or black. Smoke constantly poured up from the generator installations that encircled the town, and so filters were placed every few feet to prevent interior contamination.
Muzazi and Marie followed their host to the latest crime scene.
"We really do appreciate this, sir," Governor Regan rubbed his hands together as they marched through the snow. "Landfall-01 is a small settlement, so we didn't expect there to be too much of a fuss, but it's good to know the Supremacy cares."
Muzazi furrowed his brow.
Did not even the Governor understand the true importance of this planet, then? Looking at him, it wouldn't be surprising. He was a youthful, nervous man, with curly black hair and a beauty mark underneath each of his eyes. The constant worried expression on his face suggested he was on the verge of being overwhelmed nearly every minute of every day.
Marie spoke up when Muzazi didn't: "Do you have any suspects? Anywhere we can start looking?"
Regan sadly shook his head. "We have some criminal elements like any settlement, but mostly small-time stuff -- smuggling and the like. We've never had anything like this before. If your colleague that arrived earlier has any idea, he hasn't been saying, either."
"Icy, icy," Marie muttered as they stopped outside a red cube residence. "This the place, then?"
Regan nodded. "Mr. Guler was killed at home. He lived alone, and it was late at night -- so we haven't found any witnesses yet. If people know anything, they're not talking, so…" He sighed, and glanced towards the door. "It's… fairly unpleasant to look at, so if you'd prefer, we can…'
Muzazi finally spoke up, taking a step towards the sealed door. "I'm by no means a detective," he said firmly, staring straight ahead. "But I want to see -- I want to know what manner of evil we're contending with."
"What manner of…?" Regan raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you're sure, I guess."
The Governor tapped a button on his script, and the door slid open.
It truly was a gruesome scene.
The victim lay sprawled in the center of the living room. All the furniture had been moved to make way for his body, and all his clothing had been stripped away too. His hands had been bound behind his back and, even with the gag in his mouth, it was clear to see that his face was twisted into an expression of utter agony.
You didn't need to be a detective to understand the man had been alive for at least part of what they'd done to him.
He'd been opened up vertically from jaw to groin, his ribs pried apart and his insides scraped away. What had once been the contents of his body stained the carpet around him, shoveled out and left to rot. Just above the corpse's head, a small circle of blood had been drawn out with some kind of implement. All in all, it looked like the scene of some macabre ritual.
Unforgivable, Atoy Muzazi thought. Utterly unforgivable.