“When I had recommended you find additional members for a prospective crew, it was not my intent for you to fetch another of the Mon’keigh.” Luciene had lead Kane through roads plenty enough to make him doubt the judgment of his curiosity in her. But, at last, she guided him into an apartment complex, within which he now stood before a tall, slender Xenos of trimmed, dark hair and pale complexion, clothed in white and green robes. Eldar. Cornelius had already given Kane enough to go on to identify the species at a glance, including the lexiconic use of the Xenos’s pejorative. What Kane could not immediately identify was the nature of the amulet-held rune the Eldar wore; a gilded red heart, atop the apex of a golden but foreign sigil.
“You had recommended I find someone with some heart and some fighting experience,” Luciene replied, and then gestured to Kane. “Ishmael Kane, this is Zaer, formally of Biel-Tan. Zaer, Ishmael,” she introduced the pair. She then looked to Kane properly. “He’s always abrasive at first.”
“And not for nothing,” Zaer added in agreement. “You can fight?”
“I, uh, I served in the Guard—” Kane stammered out, but Zaer interrupted him.
“Indicative only of your capacity to be a meat-shield for a zealously murderous species, not of your personal strengths and aptitudes,” Zaer protested, crossing his arms.
Luciene turned back to Zaer in Kane’s defense. “And yet, he is the one to have slain Konrad’s pet when it broke its chains and killed its master.” Zaer raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and otherwise did not change his stance. Luciene looked to Kane again. “That’s about as good a reaction one can get out of him, but he has as great a distaste for Orks as I do, so he’ll come around.”
“And why is that?” Kane asked. Luciene cocked her head to the side, confused by the question. “Well, you’re enigmatic in many ways, yet seem to have earned enough respect from this Eldar as to receive—and be willing to act on—its advice. Yet you do not favor greenskins?”
Zaer snorted. “The Mon’keigh is perceptive, if nothing else, Lucy,” he admitted, and revealed a deep-enough relationship with Luciene as to have found a nickname for her. “Greenskins are Arakhia, children of destruction. They do not add to the universe, only replace with themselves where they can, and remove from existence where they cannot. And to them, peace is anathema. It is from this genetic aberration that Lucy and I divine our disdain for the species,” Zaer explained. “In any event, welcome, Ishmael Kane, to following in the footsteps of this…siren,” he said, opening his arms to gesture to Luciene. “You are not the first to have found her oddities captivating.”
“Thank you, Xe—Zaer,” Kane answered, and felt as though he ought to have bowed, but hesitated, and then leaned into that hesitation and did not follow through with the gesture. It appeared not to matter, and if Zaer was offended by the lack of bowing, such offense did not add to the Eldar’s pre-existing scowl.
“See? Knew you two would hit it off,” Luciene chuckled, and as before, her laugh eased some of Kane’s worries. It also seemed to disarm and loosen up Zaer. “Come along, Ishmael, others for you to meet,” she said, and set off deeper into the apartment. Zaer gestured to his side, inviting Kane to follow her. Kane did not need the Eldar’s invitation in that regard. “Ask,” Luciene said shortly after Kane followed in her footsteps.
“You saying that is going to get annoying,” Kane grumbled.
“Good, that’s the point. Ideally, you’ll ask your questions as they come to mind, and not hesitate. No one has time for hesitation,” Luciene replied.
“What do you need me for? Zaer recommended someone with heart and combat experience, why?” Kane asked.
When his questioning had finished, Luciene stopped at a closed door and turned to face Kane, leaning against the doorframe in the process. The resin creaked against her weight, but supported her and the great weapon on her back. “This universe bleeds. War rages in every corner. I, and the others here with me, aim to staunch the blood loss where we can. It is for that purpose that having a heart matters most. But there will be fighting. Orks may be genetically opposed to peace, but most major empires—your Imperium included—abhor the concept to their very cores. I do not aim to topple the Imperium—or any empire, for that matter. We cannot be everywhere, so we must settle for the small victories we can attain, but through those victories, the goal is to bring hope to those that need it. Do you understand, Ishmael?”
Kane nodded.
“Good. You have met our scout already,” Luciene suggested, pointing the way they had come, toward Zaer. “Now let me introduce you to our armorer.” She then waved a hand over the door’s panel, prompting the way inside to open. Luciene stepped in first, leading Kane up behind a figure that was hunched over a desk, soldering some electronics together. Kane wondered how such alien species could intuit the nature of the Machine Spirit, yet he knew his eyes did not deceive him. “Are you busy?” Luciene called to the hunched figure.
“Always,” it answered, voice gravelly.
“I’d like to introduce you to another client,” Luciene said.
The figure sighed, finished what it was doing, and then set its tools aside and spun around on its bench to face them, wearing a protective mask and still-concealing its visage. Though Luciene wagged a finger upwards to tell the figure to raise its mask, Kane already knew the creature was of T’au origins; its pale-orange garments were decorated with the same symbology—that of a circle atop a descending line—that adorned most of the T’au infrastructure and personnel Kane had seen elsewhere.
And indeed, upon lifting its mask, a blue face stared back toward Kane and Luciene. One of its eyes was missing, replaced with what Kane would describe as an augmetic not unlike Cornelius’s, albeit much more subtle. “Ishmael Kane, this is…,” Luciene began, and then sighed. “Remind me, how do you prefer to be introduced?”
“I am Fio’Ui Kor’tal Kor’Kassan. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” the T’au said, and extended a hand for Kane to shake. Kane did so, but shot Luciene a glance. She nodded in agreement—yes, this T’au’s name was a mouthful. “You can call me Kor’Kassan, as all the rest do,” the T’au suggested, observing the silent conversation. “May I see the piece?” he asked, pointing to Kane’s waist. Kane nodded and lifted the stubpistol Cornelius had given him into the air, handing it to Kor’Kassan, who inspected the weapon. “Hm. Rudimentary, even by gue’la standards. I can do better. You will also be wanting protection, I assume, as those rags you wear do not seem adequate. A simple phase padding should suffice without weighing you down,” Kor’Kassan suggested. “That is, if you want any of this,” he said, and handed the stubber back to Kane.
“I…,” Kane began, and looked to Luciene while he holstered his weapon, who nodded. “Sure?”
“Luciene will recommend you speak with greater certainty in the future,” Kor’Kassan replied. “But I’ll see you fitted and kitted. Is he a warrior?” he asked Luciene, who nodded again. “More than phase padding then. You’ll want Fio’tak too, the whole ordeal. That can happen. Helmets are trickier to come by, though; at least, those with proper modules installed, anyway.”
“I confess, you’ve said a lot to me and I understand very little,” Kane admitted.
Kor’Kassan loosed a grin. “Not atypical for warriors,” he said, and then grinned wider and let loose a small laugh. It sounded rough and forced from the T’au, as opposed to the welcome nature of Luciene’s. “My name, I suspect, and the body armor I have referenced, being the points of confusion? The armor is simple—I will fashion for you inner and outerwear not unlike those of my kind’s Fire Caste. My name is indicative of the fact that I am not a combat unit like yourself; I am of the Earth Caste. In your tongue, I am Kor’Kassan, Senior Wisesky of the Kor'tal Sept. These words may still mean little to you, I suspect. But know that they imply that I am at least passably capable in my field, as hopefully you are in yours.”
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“He is,” Luciene confirmed.
“Well of course he is; he got past Zaer, didn’t he?” Kor’Kassan suggested, clapping a hand onto Kane’s right shoulder. The gesture reminded Kane of Cornelius. “Hard bastard, that one. But not for nothing.”
“So he says,” Kane nodded.
“Indeed. In any event, a pleasure to meet you, Ishmael Kane. I will see to it that you are armed adequately and granted proper protective wear. Alas, I must return to my prior project,” Kor’Kassan said, and gestured behind himself.
“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you,” Kane said, and this time bowed on instinct, which was more than Zaer received.
“Pleasure’s mine,” Kor’Kassan agreed, and tipped his mask back down and returned to work.
“Easier than Zaer,” Kane muttered to Luciene as they began to leave from Kor’Kassan’s workshop, Luciene leading the way.
“Most are,” she nodded, chuckling again, but then turned back to Kor’Kassan, stopping the pair in their tracks. “Oh, Kor, you had recommended Kotak, yes?”
“The Unbroken, yes,” Kor’Kassan replied without turning to face her. Luciene nodded to herself before returning to guiding Kane throughout the apartment.
As they left Kor’Kassan’s room, Luciene said to herself, “I suppose, by now, I could have taken this down.” She then pulled her hooded cloak back, revealing her head. She was fair of hair and face, and as Kane suspected, her eyes glimmered in gold.
“Your hand was black, when you healed me,” Kane said, noting the disjointed coloration between her hand and her head.
“Yes. If I knew why, I would tell you,” Luciene shrugged.
“You don’t know everything about yourself?”
“Perilously little, in fact,” she winced, and shook her head. “Am I human, do you think? I have not known.”
“I…yes? I would have guessed so. Does Zaer—?”
“Zaer has his suspicions as to what I am, but he does not share. And while I can see your pasts, I cannot see your futures, which includes a possible future in which he speaks his mind,” Luciene explained. Then she chuckled again. “How’s that for irony? The Eldar do love to speak their mind on all things, save for me, it seems.”
“There are rumors about you, you know,” Kane started.
“I’m sure there are,” she laughed.
“Some say you’re a thousand years old. Is that so?” Kane asked.
Luciene stopped at another closed door in the apartment. She looked to Kane, smiled, and answered, “Older.” She then lead Kane inside the room where, much to Kane’s comfort, a human woman was found reading some magazines that Cornelius had stocked in his bar on occasion, laying on her back upon a bed. Kane had never looked inside such magazines then, and he doubted he would have an opportunity to do so now. “Busy?” Luciene asked, grinning, of the woman.
“Very. Can’t you tell?” the woman replied, drooping the magazine to look over its edge at the entrants to her room. “Charmed another victim, have you?”
“Something like that. Ishmael Kane, meet Nessa Myr,” Luciene introduced them. “Nessa, Ishmael. She doesn’t bite,” Luciene added, noting Kane’s reluctance to step nearer to Myr. “Anymore.”
“Good one,” Myr rolled her eyes, and then sat up properly before setting her magazine aside and rising to her feet. “I’m the combat expert of Luciene’s little crew. You wanna know how to break someone’s skull, human or not, you come to me,” she introduced herself, then looked Kane over. “You’re ex-Militarum.”
“You can tell?” Kane asked, eyebrows raised.
She shrugged. “You carry yourself as such. You also have the instinct to be hesitant in my presence, because you sense a killer. Good instinct to have in this universe. Worry not, I won’t harm you. Much. Unless Luciene asks me to.”
“Which I will not be asking for,” Luciene clarified.
“How is someone like Zaer taking combat lessons from a human like us?” Kane wondered aloud.
Both Luciene and Myr smiled, but it was Myr that proposed an answer. “I’m from Fervious,” she said, as though that was supposed to mean something to Kane. It did not, and he evidenced as such. “Feudal World in Calixis. Known for its Death Cults.”
“Ah!” Kane understood, and in understanding, visibly grew more uneasy than he had been already.
Myr held her hands up defensively. “Relax. I’m not that anymore, just like you’re not Militarum anymore. And Zaer is no longer of the Biel-Tan, nor Kor’Kassan a member of the Earth Caste. Get used to that. No one here on Eutophoria is what they once were. They can’t be. Somehow, that goes for Luciene, too, though what she was and what she is are both up for debate, as I’m sure she’s made you aware.”
“Recently,” Kane replied, glancing to Luciene, whose grin widened. Yes, it had been very recent indeed.
“You’ll be in for a bit of a culture shock in the immediate. Nothing to be done about that. Probable panic attacks in the near future. Only natural,” Myr shrugged. “If I can assist with your acclimation in some way, or otherwise ease your looming hysteria, seek me out. Afterward,” she started, and turned to Luciene, “I expect you want me to train him.”
Luciene nodded. “See what he knows already, and pick up from there. He has just slain an Ork in close quarters, so he is not without some experience.”
“Impressive. And sure to win you some points with Zaer,” Myr acknowledged.
“Nessa is, if you’d believe it, the friendliest and most welcoming of my crew thus far,” Luciene explained to Kane. Myr, meanwhile, both blushed and winced, clearly not ready for the compliment. “And since leaving her Death Cult, she has never eaten anyone, isn’t that right, Nessa?” Myr scowled further. “Right. Well, that’s the crew. Your room is the one between Kor’Kassan’s and Nessa’s. I must consult with Zaer on a private matter, so this is where we part ways, Ishmael. But if you need of me, or have further questions, I will try to make myself present,” Luciene explained to Kane.
“I, uh, thanks, Luciene, for taking me in. I think,” Kane answered. It had been, for him, a long day, and there was not much left in the tank to keep him mentally equipped for curiosity. So when Luciene left, he did not follow, and stayed, awkward, in the entrance to Myr’s room.
Until she approached him, that is, after which he tensed up and took a step back. “Easy,” Myr said softly, and shook her head. Every instinct inside Kane told him to run from her, but in truth, he sensed no malice from her, and logically speaking, it seemed unlikely Luciene would have gone through all the trouble of introducing him to everyone only to throw him to the metaphorical wolves. When Myr had stepped up to Kane, he looked away, which she corrected by placing two fingers on his chin and directing his head toward hers. “Fear is Luciene’s enemy. You must learn to defeat yours as well. Face me, Ishmael Kane, and take me in, for all I am.”
It was not as though she gave him much of a choice. So, he took her in, looking her over.
Nessa Myr was dark-skinned, albeit not in the stygian-blackness of Luciene’s hand, but in the traditional human sense. Her hair was black as well, and kept to a short trim. Her eyes were wide, sharp, and blazed in a hue of amber. She stood about to Kane’s height, and had a form for combat, sleek but knotted with muscle, not unlike Kane’s. These similarities, despite their other differences, allowed Kane to ease up and quell his fear of her, if only just. “Good,” she smiled, and then clasped Kane’s head in her hands. Her grasp was not tight, and in fact seemed almost motherly to Kane, which is probably why he allowed it to continue without jumping away from her again. She held his head for a moment, and then drew her hands down his head, down his neck, onto his torso and spread out onto his arms. “Feeling you up. Apologies, culture shock, I know. A remnant of my time on Fervious. We were…I suppose the term is ‘intimate.’ Yes, we were intimate. You must be willing to be intimate to get close enough to kill someone effectively,” she shrugged, and then moved one of her hands through Kane’s. “I would not ask you to, though it has been a long time since I have felt another upon my body.”
Kane frowned. “Is that…sorry. Is that a literal thing or a sexual one?”
Myr laughed, and shook her head. Hers was a laugh as inviting as Luciene’s, though it revealed teeth sharpened for the ripping of flesh from bone. “It was intended to be literal, yes, though I suppose both are true. They say there is sex aplenty among the stars. I have my doubts, yet…well, we all arrived in this universe one way or another, didn’t we? And…hm. Carnal desires of the flesh are not repressed on worlds such as mine. Yet I think it unwise, for you, now, to engage as such,” Myr said, and put a hand over Kane’s heart. “Stress and pain are going to set in. They must be mediated first, before they are exacerbated in sex. You must adapt to everything you can, as there is everything on Eutophoria, and there will be more in service to Luciene. Then, with adaptation, and if you desire it, perhaps you could fight me for it,” Myr shrugged, apparently uncaring about her bodily use.
Yet fear returned to Kane at the prospect of fighting a former Death Cult assassin, as well it should. It spread across his face once more, which was exactly why Myr slapped his cheek, and not lightly at that. “Ow! What the hell?” Kane shouted, successfully jumping back from Myr.
“Ah! See how anger and violence overpower fear in an instant!” Myr observed, pointing and laughing at Kane. “This is something Luciene has struggled to accept. She wishes for peace to replace fear, which is admirable, but naïve. Get some rest, Ishmael Kane. I think I’ll enjoy you. Kudos to Luciene for having fetched me a playmate such as yourself,” Myr chuckled. “But I do mean it—if you find yourself ever in a moment of panic, now or five years ahead, seek me out. I will provide for you what grace I am able.”