Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Sixthmonth, 1634 PTS
Triezal cursed as he staggered back down the stairs to the titan hangar. He had replaced his pistol in its holster, and was awkwardly holding his left wrist, which had gone limp.
“Should always shoot a second time, just to be sure,” he muttered to himself in annoyance. Perhaps none of this would have happened if Juen had truly died back in Canvas Town.
Triezal was not sure whether had ever met anyone hardier than the martial artist. Just how many assassination attempts had failed on the man in the past few weeks?
It also felt as if he always was the one to come out ahead whenever they fought. This was not the first time that Triezal had felt jealous of a martial artist’s power.
It was a natural emotion, he knew- the Seiyal had the potential for far greater physical capability and longevity than he ever could. They could even become immortal, something that was out of the question for a mortal like him. Still, this was his fate, and Triezal had always been practically minded enough to focus his attention on what he might reasonably expect in life.
Besides, it wasn’t as if martial artists like Juen could even reasonably hope for immortality themselves. In practice, only the best could even acquire an additional several hundred years at most.
The slate in Triezal’s side pocket vibrated again, reminding him of why he had come down so urgently in the first place. With a grunt as his left hand contorted under the pain of his muscles repairing themselves, Triezal lifted the slate and quickly drew the symbol for accepting the call, prompting the image of Deuvar to float into the air before him. Triezal continued to walk down the stairs as he waited for the man to explain the purpose of the call.
“What the hell is happening?” asked Deuvar, eyes ablaze. Had Triezal been anyone else, he knew that the large man would have been far less polite with his question.
Triezal hesitated, and then gave a quick explanation, prompting the Vice-Leader to scowl.
“It can’t be that simple. It was always possible that they might stumble into one of the facilities, but… shit. Try to keep the place under control. I’m about to reach the Leader’s place, and we’ll discuss what to do.”
His words brought Triezal’s full attention, and Triezal thought desperately whether or not to tell the man his suspicions about the old Korlove. If the Leader truly had been compromised, Deuvar might be walking into a trap.
Though he knew Deuvar might not believe him, Triezal decided to share them just in case.
“Deuvar,” he said, drawing the older man’s attention as he noted the unusual form of address, “I’m concerned that something might have happened to him. To the Leader.”
Deuvar frowned, and Triezal wondered whether he suspected anything himself. Deuvar was an intelligent man, after all. Perhaps he had simply refused to consider the possibility.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’ve told me he’s been acting strange, and I found records saying he has been interfering with the databases at the titan facilities. He is the only person who has been doing so. I’m concerned that Janottka might have.”
Deuvar’s eyes narrowed, and Triezal found himself unintentionally quieting.
“I intend to confront him about how he’s been acting,” said Deuvar, speaking softly, his tone having calmed from its prior urgency. “I’ll call back immediately afterwards, and if I don’t, you need to speak with Astna.”
Alarmed, Triezal began to speak again, but Deuvar simply shook his head.
“I trust him, and I believe there will be a reasonable explanation. But I need to know. I’ll contact you.”
A part of Triezal understood the other man’s feelings, at least conceptually. But Triezal doubted he was even capable of such loyalty. In the end, Triezal’s trust and loyalty ended at the point where he was substantially risking his life.
“...Be careful,” he said, as the call shut off, leaving him alone in the long stairwell, which finally came to its end, opening back up into the wide hanger centered upon the gargantuan machine.
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Glancing back at his slate, Triezal leaned onto the wall, shifting its image to reveal a view of the fight going on above. The martial artists had already destroyed the first of the enforcers, though the second and third had finally arrived to assist. It was possible that they could injure or kill the twospirit refiners, but Triezal did not hold out hope, choosing to assume the worst case scenario. The terrain inside the factory had lots of machinery serving as effective cover from the hail of bullets, terrain that well-suited the martial artists. For a moment, Triezal wondered whether he could set up explosives to destroy them, and take down the two ‘problems.’ Before he could, however, Triezal heard a grinding noise so loud it caused the machines in his bones to vibrate, drawing his immediate attention. He turned, and saw that the sound was emerging from the slumbering titan.
That couldn’t be right, he thought. It would only make such noises if it were moving. Moments later, a nightmare he had not even imagined took form. To Triezal’s mounting shock and horror, the vast spider-like machine slowly rose from its cradle and shifted, taking unsteady motions toward a quietly expanding gap in the side of the building. It felt like the moment he turned his attention away, something went wrong. Triezal cursed, paralyzed as he desperately sought a way to salvage the situation. If a titan took action publicly, the Justice Office would have no choice but to intervene. And if they intervened…
Triezal sprinted towards the operations booth, hoping to shut down the careless action that was occurring. He spun around the corner, emerging into a room filled with personnel, each inspecting and fiddling with large slates as they shouted over one another. The room’s faces were filled with equal parts joy and fear, though the expression of the man in charge was full of nothing but excitement. His name was Overon, a Korlove who Triezal had never paid any particular attention to in the past.
“Stand down!” he shouted, “Use of the titan is not authorized!”
Overon sneered.
“It seems you haven’t heard. We have permission.”
“I was just speaking with the Vice-Leader, and he had no intentions to authorize anything like this. I’m concerned that the facility might have been infiltrated by hackers.” Triezal spoke fast, desperate to halt what seemed like a nigh-apocalyptic threat. The titan could not be allowed to activate. Not until they were far more desperate.
“The Leader wishes otherwise,” said Overon.
Triezal’s eyes widened.
“What are you talking about?
The Korlove scowled.
“He called me just now, and it is not your place to doubt his intentions. Who are you to stand in our way, Magister?”
Triezal narrowed his eyes, attempting to determine whether the other man’s words rang true, but did not notice any obvious falsehoods. Had the Leader really commanded such a thing? If so, just what could his intentions be? As far as Triezal could tell, such an action would result in an outcome negative for everyone.
That was when Triezal realized. Triezal chuckled, and his chuckles turned into a mad laughter as his eyes blazed with vigor, and he strode from the room. If he thought it would help, Triezal would have shot them, but unfortunately, he did not feel that it would help the situation. By this point, the only one who could stop this was whoever was piloting the titan, and it seemed that nothing Triezal himself could do might convince the man.
“It seems I was right,” he said with a curse, raising his slate and redialing Deuvar. Before the first ring, the connection was picked up, and the hologram of the muscular Jobu appeared above his slate. To Triezal’s surprise, however, the Deuvar that appeared seemed to be a broken, haunted man, a look of shock and horror filling his eyes. As Triezal watched, a look of rage more intense than he had ever seen filled the man’s eyes as he slowly glanced toward Triezal, their gazes locking.
“He’s not here,” he said simply.
Uncomprehending for a long moment, Triezal’s eyes slowly widened as he realized the implications. Kadeki almost never left his home. In his old age, he had become a hermit, a misanthrope, only speaking with those he strictly needed to, and largely just his proteges Astna and Deuvar. If he had left without a warning…
Triezal had been correct, but he could not comprehend just what the implications were. Still, that was not the largest issue at hand. Breathless, Triezal glanced back toward the shifting titan, then to Deuvar’s image. Carefully, Triezal pieced words together.
“The Leader has given orders for the titans to be activated,” he said, and Deuvar froze.
“Is it just that one, or all of them?” he asked.
Triezal simply shook his head. He had no way of knowing, and Deuvar had to be aware of that. Deuvar cursed and ended the call, presumably intending to speak with Overun, Kalthen, and the other facility overseers.
Triezal, meanwhile, continued to glance up at the shifting form of the titan, wondering if events were past the point where he could even hope to interfere. Sometimes, he thought, one’s limitations truly were cruel. With insufficient preparations, what could he even hope to do against such a machine? Perhaps it would be better to just sit back, and watch the end of the world.
No, thought Triezal, there was one more thing he could try. Carefully managing his injured hand, which had almost recovered to useful condition by now, he replaced the slate in his pocket and readied a pistol as he turned to Overun, still standing halfway across the room.
Weapons of Mass Destruction: [WMD is the designation for weapons of such magnitude that they might destroy an entire city, starship, or space station. The Seiyal refer to these as weapons of the ‘immortal level.’. Nuclear and fusion warheads, antimatter bombs, the ‘titan’ series of Celan mechs, ablation engines, and many other instruments of war also classify as WMD. They are banned in most territories, though the Pantheonic Government, despite banning their use by all factions external to themselves, in many cases do not enforce this due to internal corruption. If a WMD is utilized publicly, however, the faction is not only censured, in most cases it is destroyed outright unless the revealed individual or machine is destroyed, and the capacity to create it is removed. Despite this, no underworld organization can be considered a true power unless they bear at least one weapon of this level.]