The odour of the putrefying corpses at the rear of the wagon had become too much and Jasmine felt the vomit hit the back of her throat. Such violent eruptions were dangerous in the heat of the desert. Her bodysuit, a crude and inferior Inspirtu clone of much more advanced and efficient Desertborn technology, was already struggling to keep her alive.
She kneeled on the sand, letting the last remaining contents of her stomach pass between her teeth. Her mind swirled with tumultuous thoughts, struggling to maintain clarity amongst the rush of images and emotions that overtook her. The J-SAF virus coursed through her veins and her Moonbaby metabolism fought tirelessly against the virulent invaders that attacked every cell within her body.
Not for the first time, she noticed blood in the viscous substance she saw seeping into the sand.
No matter.
J-SAF would be her revenge. The acolytes in the back of her wagon would fulfil one last action for her. J-SAF had taken hold of them all, one way or another. Now they would spread death amongst the lazy, insolent and bloated Concordat.
20160530
20151210
Triumph and Tourmaline.
"In times to come, they would know this time as The Wilderness. We were lost amongst the stars, each of our fates unknown to the other but we always had hope."
Extract from The Book of Piotr, Book 12 of the Jadeist Scriptures
Walking along the boulevard, Piotr felt this world was the least alien of those he had encountered. This was a farming world, a world of small settlements isolated and faithful to a belief and creed and although some of the customs seemed alien to him, he could admire they way they lived here. He had grown up in the Inspiru way. They had been a small commune who had mastered the ability of utilising moisture farms to grow crops deep beneath the ground. They had believed that the spirits of the dead walked alongside the living, guiding their decisions in subtle ways. A wisdom of the ages, it has one been called.
Piotr wandered how many of his fellow Inspirtu survived. When they had reached the evacuation site on Araxes, some seventeen days walk from the Sanctuary, the slave traders had taken Moonbaby and Inspirtu alike. He wondered if the Adherent knew where she had sent them. He remembered the faces of his fellow Inspirtu as the Moonbaby's they had come to worship and see as divine were shackled and led like cattle onto the slaver ships.
He was nearing his destination now. Square. Functional. He realised he was alone now and the bustling markets and throngs of people had thinned to nothing. The entrance to the building was a dull grey door, devoid of decoration but for a small flourish on the door handle and a peep hole.
Piotr knocked on the door firmly and waited. He heard shuffling on the other side and felt an eye looking him over. The door opened a crack and a face appeared behind a chain.
"I'm here to speak to Tourmaline".
"Tourmaline eh? What makes you think such a person resides here?"
Piotr lifted his hand and removed the glove from his right hand. On his middle finger, he revealed a ring upon which a stylised rabbits head was embossed in a jade stone.
The face behind the door looked at Piotr, the man's thick craggy eyebrows overhanging his deep gray eyes. "You think that means something do you, eh?", the man said gruffy.
"It's a symbol. Alone, it's meaningless but when enough people believe in it, it becomes something more. It meant a lot to a great many friends of mine, many long since gone. It means a lot to me, I think it means something to you too."
The craggy man gave Piotr another look over. Young, certainly less than 25, possibly younger than 20. His skin was tanned with a dark tousled head of hair. His eyes were brown but somehow seemed to reflect a hint of blue. He wore brown slacks and a red shirt, layered with a brown and black chequed shirt and battered leather jacket. The accent was foreign, at least to him but he'd met others who spoke with the same lilt. He knew this young man was Araxian.
The door slammed shut and then opened wider, released of its chain. The man beckoned him with one hand before furtively glancing left and right along the boulevard. Dusk was falling as Heinlein fell below the horizon and the moon of Mycroft began to peek out behind amber coloured clouds.
Piotr's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light within the building. The interior was only moderately more elaborate than the exterior. The walls were exposed brick, with the occasional dim light alternating with screens or murals. He felt the hard floor beneath him give way to a softer lush carpet. People pottered about, occasionally giving a enquiring glance at the strange visitor in their midst.
He could make out a bar at one side of the room and wooden tables were set out across the floor, each orbited with several chairs. Piotr wondered where they were going and soon found the craggy man walking towards a table in the corner of the room. He could make out several figures and realised that they had stopped talking and all but one was now looking in his direction.
"Rest is up to you, lad", the craggy man said, "Be respectful and try not to be a mug."
Piotr nodded as the man left him and realised that several of the figures bore sidearms. The figure in the centre of the group sat with their back to him, wearing a dark brown overcoat over a hooded top.
"Stop there." The voice was female and came from the figure before him. "I was watching you on the screen here. Don't think for a moment because I have my back to you that I am disadvantaged in any way. Everyone in this room will lay down their life in my name."
Piotr took a breath before speaking. "I am no threat to you. My name is Piotr, I am a Remnant of the Jadist Congregation and child of the Inspirtu."
"You're one of Jasmine's minions, then. Certainly you're not one of Jade's. Wrong pigmentation for one."
"I'm not sure I unders.."
"How did you get here? You're a very, very long way from home."
Piotr felt the words get trapped in his mouth. He had a long story to tell, about how the slave traders hadn't been able to tell the difference between farmer and warrior and how when the time was right, the warriors had made sure they learnt. He wanted to tell her about the long journey across the inky black. So many tales to tell in the past two years but he didn't know where to begin.
"I'm one of the Remnant, we're...."
"Remnant? OH, how delicious! That's actually a title you've given yourselves, not just a description? How very theatrical, how very cloak and dagger. How very Jasmine."
A slender arm reached for a white china teacup on the table and twixt overcoat and glove he caught glimpse of a delicate, ghostly white wrist.
She continued, "She was always one for theatrics. She had a knack for it. Everything had to be big and grand. Adherents of this. Messiah's of that but then so were you Inspirtu apparently. Almost like you were made for each other."
She took a slow, deliberate sip of the drink and then lowered her hood. Her hair was white as he had ever seen and she raised a beckoning finger in the air.
"Come on then, come and have a seat."
Piotr moved forward and found himself glancing at the woman as he passed her. Her hair was long and he could see now fell half way to her waist in a neat plait. She had a small delicate nose which matched her shapely face. He felt an instinctive sense of awe, brought upon by centuries of tradition. He had never seen a Moonbaby any less than beautiful.
"Sit down. Do come on. We haven't all day. Yes, I'm a Moonbaby. Now do stop staring and sit down. My, my, those witches did a fine job brainwashing you lot didn't they? Not quite sure they expected albinos to ever turn up on Araxes but well, there you go. Tea perchance? I quite like the Earl Gray myself but perhaps you'd prefer peppermint...or possibly cinnamon? I hear Raqismanna tastes something like cinnamon. August, go and get my guest some cinnamon tea, there's a good fellow."
"Now Piotr, that's your name, yes? My name is Tourmaline. The pleasure is, of course, all yours...but whatever could you want with little me?"
Piotr spoke up, more assertively now, "We are looking for the messiah, Jade Moonkill"
"Curious. Even interesting. Well, I'm sorry but I don't know where she is. She flits about a lot. Causing trouble, it's her way. Even when she was dimmer than these bulbs. It's a spectrum condition you know. Moonbabyism. Affects people in different ways. Given the right medication you can lead a fairly normal life. People say I talk a lot, I say I just have a lot to say. Maybe it's because I'm a Moonbaby. Maybe I'm just bloody talkative eh? But no, I don't know where Jade is. I'm assuming you looked on Ghost? But of course, you must, how else would you have known to come here...."
"We need to reaffirm the faith", said Piotr, "we need Jade to do that. I don't believe we could truly reignite the mission without her. Many believers have fallen to the wayside."
"Yes", Tourmaline took another sip of tea and smiled as Piotr's cinnamon tea arrived, "I can imagine how Jade returning from the dead might have ironically derailed your faith a bit."
"A misinterpretation of the texts and the facts at hand. Our scholars merely focused too closely on one interpretation of the text. Arrogance is to be blame. It was predicted that our messiah would return from the dead and who can deny she did that very thing? It was once believed that the End of Days represented the death of creation. Now we know it only meant the end of an mistaken way of thinking, which we believe was physically represented by the destruction of the Sanctuary."
"Fascinating I'm sure. I'm afraid I can't help you find Jade and I'm not entirely sure I'm in a position to help you find Jasmine either."
Piotr felt his face droop a little.
"But of course, perhaps you're playing the wrong game. Maybe you should be looking for that little child instead, assuming it survived."
"Child?"
"Yes, the child. Is it Tink's or the other one. I really can't remember. We don't really get Araxian news this far out and it's been a while. Far too busy having our brains filled with mush by the Alliance. That child is important and not for the reasons you might think. You might also want to take a closer look at Blue Sun or if you're feeling particularly brave, Umbrella Labs. They're full of little secrets."
Tourmaline finished her drink and stood up. "I think we're done? Yes we're done. Unless you have anything else? I'm really very busy you know.Tsk, you never tried your tea."
Piotr dropped his head in reverence - "Only that I praise Jade, praise Jasmine and now I praise you, Tourmaline. Our spirit guides continue to aid us in finding wisdom"
Tourmaline smiled and turned to her own men, "You hear that, boys. Praise Tourmaline. I should very well think so. All hail Tourmaline, woohoo!"
The face behind the door looked at Piotr, the man's thick craggy eyebrows overhanging his deep gray eyes. "You think that means something do you, eh?", the man said gruffy.
"It's a symbol. Alone, it's meaningless but when enough people believe in it, it becomes something more. It meant a lot to a great many friends of mine, many long since gone. It means a lot to me, I think it means something to you too."
The craggy man gave Piotr another look over. Young, certainly less than 25, possibly younger than 20. His skin was tanned with a dark tousled head of hair. His eyes were brown but somehow seemed to reflect a hint of blue. He wore brown slacks and a red shirt, layered with a brown and black chequed shirt and battered leather jacket. The accent was foreign, at least to him but he'd met others who spoke with the same lilt. He knew this young man was Araxian.
The door slammed shut and then opened wider, released of its chain. The man beckoned him with one hand before furtively glancing left and right along the boulevard. Dusk was falling as Heinlein fell below the horizon and the moon of Mycroft began to peek out behind amber coloured clouds.
Piotr's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light within the building. The interior was only moderately more elaborate than the exterior. The walls were exposed brick, with the occasional dim light alternating with screens or murals. He felt the hard floor beneath him give way to a softer lush carpet. People pottered about, occasionally giving a enquiring glance at the strange visitor in their midst.
He could make out a bar at one side of the room and wooden tables were set out across the floor, each orbited with several chairs. Piotr wondered where they were going and soon found the craggy man walking towards a table in the corner of the room. He could make out several figures and realised that they had stopped talking and all but one was now looking in his direction.
"Rest is up to you, lad", the craggy man said, "Be respectful and try not to be a mug."
Piotr nodded as the man left him and realised that several of the figures bore sidearms. The figure in the centre of the group sat with their back to him, wearing a dark brown overcoat over a hooded top.
"Stop there." The voice was female and came from the figure before him. "I was watching you on the screen here. Don't think for a moment because I have my back to you that I am disadvantaged in any way. Everyone in this room will lay down their life in my name."
Piotr took a breath before speaking. "I am no threat to you. My name is Piotr, I am a Remnant of the Jadist Congregation and child of the Inspirtu."
"You're one of Jasmine's minions, then. Certainly you're not one of Jade's. Wrong pigmentation for one."
"I'm not sure I unders.."
"How did you get here? You're a very, very long way from home."
Piotr felt the words get trapped in his mouth. He had a long story to tell, about how the slave traders hadn't been able to tell the difference between farmer and warrior and how when the time was right, the warriors had made sure they learnt. He wanted to tell her about the long journey across the inky black. So many tales to tell in the past two years but he didn't know where to begin.
"I'm one of the Remnant, we're...."
"Remnant? OH, how delicious! That's actually a title you've given yourselves, not just a description? How very theatrical, how very cloak and dagger. How very Jasmine."
A slender arm reached for a white china teacup on the table and twixt overcoat and glove he caught glimpse of a delicate, ghostly white wrist.
She continued, "She was always one for theatrics. She had a knack for it. Everything had to be big and grand. Adherents of this. Messiah's of that but then so were you Inspirtu apparently. Almost like you were made for each other."
She took a slow, deliberate sip of the drink and then lowered her hood. Her hair was white as he had ever seen and she raised a beckoning finger in the air.
"Come on then, come and have a seat."
Piotr moved forward and found himself glancing at the woman as he passed her. Her hair was long and he could see now fell half way to her waist in a neat plait. She had a small delicate nose which matched her shapely face. He felt an instinctive sense of awe, brought upon by centuries of tradition. He had never seen a Moonbaby any less than beautiful.
"Sit down. Do come on. We haven't all day. Yes, I'm a Moonbaby. Now do stop staring and sit down. My, my, those witches did a fine job brainwashing you lot didn't they? Not quite sure they expected albinos to ever turn up on Araxes but well, there you go. Tea perchance? I quite like the Earl Gray myself but perhaps you'd prefer peppermint...or possibly cinnamon? I hear Raqismanna tastes something like cinnamon. August, go and get my guest some cinnamon tea, there's a good fellow."
"Now Piotr, that's your name, yes? My name is Tourmaline. The pleasure is, of course, all yours...but whatever could you want with little me?"
Piotr spoke up, more assertively now, "We are looking for the messiah, Jade Moonkill"
"Curious. Even interesting. Well, I'm sorry but I don't know where she is. She flits about a lot. Causing trouble, it's her way. Even when she was dimmer than these bulbs. It's a spectrum condition you know. Moonbabyism. Affects people in different ways. Given the right medication you can lead a fairly normal life. People say I talk a lot, I say I just have a lot to say. Maybe it's because I'm a Moonbaby. Maybe I'm just bloody talkative eh? But no, I don't know where Jade is. I'm assuming you looked on Ghost? But of course, you must, how else would you have known to come here...."
"We need to reaffirm the faith", said Piotr, "we need Jade to do that. I don't believe we could truly reignite the mission without her. Many believers have fallen to the wayside."
"Yes", Tourmaline took another sip of tea and smiled as Piotr's cinnamon tea arrived, "I can imagine how Jade returning from the dead might have ironically derailed your faith a bit."
"A misinterpretation of the texts and the facts at hand. Our scholars merely focused too closely on one interpretation of the text. Arrogance is to be blame. It was predicted that our messiah would return from the dead and who can deny she did that very thing? It was once believed that the End of Days represented the death of creation. Now we know it only meant the end of an mistaken way of thinking, which we believe was physically represented by the destruction of the Sanctuary."
"Fascinating I'm sure. I'm afraid I can't help you find Jade and I'm not entirely sure I'm in a position to help you find Jasmine either."
Piotr felt his face droop a little.
"But of course, perhaps you're playing the wrong game. Maybe you should be looking for that little child instead, assuming it survived."
"Child?"
"Yes, the child. Is it Tink's or the other one. I really can't remember. We don't really get Araxian news this far out and it's been a while. Far too busy having our brains filled with mush by the Alliance. That child is important and not for the reasons you might think. You might also want to take a closer look at Blue Sun or if you're feeling particularly brave, Umbrella Labs. They're full of little secrets."
Tourmaline finished her drink and stood up. "I think we're done? Yes we're done. Unless you have anything else? I'm really very busy you know.Tsk, you never tried your tea."
Piotr dropped his head in reverence - "Only that I praise Jade, praise Jasmine and now I praise you, Tourmaline. Our spirit guides continue to aid us in finding wisdom"
Tourmaline smiled and turned to her own men, "You hear that, boys. Praise Tourmaline. I should very well think so. All hail Tourmaline, woohoo!"
20150208
I run.
I run.
With every sinew, every muscle, I run.
I don't know what I'm running from or where I'm running to, but I run anyway,
The world erupts around me, changing from barren sand dunes to lush greens. Rocks give birth to trees, trees give way to more rocks that now become glaciers, glaciers that always turn red.
I hate running in the blood. It feels warm and sticky beneath my toes. It splashes up skirt, tainting the pure white fabric with speckles. I keep on running even though I can feel the tears welling in my eyes because I know the blood will eventually harden then crack into particles that somehow becomes sand, No matter how far I run, I always come back to the sand.
Occasionally, I see shadows on the horizon, or see furtive figures in the undergrowth. I can never reach them, they vanish like mirages. Sometimes I hear voices. I shake my head, try and ignore them. I don't understand what they say.
I imagine places. Lots of places. Some feel familiar. Sometimes I can conjure up faces but I don't know where they come from.
Today something changed and I stopped running.
Today, I found myself in a room where I couldn't run, couldn't walk or stand, Couldn't sit or turn my head. A room where my eyes hurt as though they hadn't been used for a long time.
Now I'm running again, back in the sand and the rocks, back in the water and the blood, back with the shadows and the voices. The room was different, different is good.
20130407
Return to Azaadi
The desert felt heavy underfoot as Jasmine Moonshade staggered towards the structures before her. They rippled in the haziness of the air adding to the sense of unbalance she felt. Her head pounded and her lips had cracked. How long had she gone without water? Her canteen was empty, the last of the water used and she felt her mind wandering. Her arms were reddened and raw where the suns had blistered and burnt at her skin. She was ill-prepared for the journey she had undertaken her survival suit stripped from her and she now wore her original clothes she had worn when her memory of life on Araxes began - a grey vest and brown trousers with heavy boots.
The world seemed too bright, as though the universe had lost contrast Her head pounded and she fought the creeping blindness that permeated her peripheral vision. Still, she recognised the scents of Azaadi, a strange mixture of the desert, off-worlders and something familiar that lay beyond her limited memory. She leant up against the wall of an alleyway, grazing her arm against the rough texture. Then, she heard a voice she knew. She peered up and realised where she was - the Bleeding Reaver Saloon.
Jasmine staggered into the saloon, swayed from side to side and fell to the floor, her strength had finally left her. She looked up and saw hazy figures at a table.
"Adherent!"
The voice of the Yiazzis!
Jasmine thought she may have said the words but realised she could no longer tell whether she was speaking or thinking. A figure knelt before her and she felt a canteen offered. She thought she heard a female voice from elsewhere in the room but she focused her eyes on the figure before her.
"All is undone!", Jasmine spat the words out through a dry mouth, "All is undone!"
"You are without a shirt? You will blister." She felt the canteen offered again and this time Jasmine took it and drank thirstily.
"Slowly, slowly, not too fast. You will throw up."
Jasmine took the canteen away from her mouth, nodded and let some of the water spill down her face before drinking again.
"Come, sit down....I will make something for your shoulders.....and your chest." Several lacerations marked the Adherent's torso, long and repeated lashings.
She climbed to her feet and staggered across to a chair. The water had the desired effect and she felt a modicum of clarity return to her thinking. She realised that her delirium had blocked out the pain from her wounds she had sustained and that that pain was swiftly returning.
"Captain", the Yiazzis gestured to a figure across the room, "keep watch, with weapon drawn, if you please."
Another figure, clouded by the red haze around her vision, asked with concern "Is there anything I can do? Should do?"
"Yes, XenoAnthropologist, examine those wounds if you please."
As the Yiazzis voice pulled away to a space behind, she heard a pulsing, occasionally irregular but somehow melodic beeping came from a device the other figure held at close quarters. Jasmine rested her head in her hands and felt bloody tears fall from her eyes. As the female analysed her readings, Jasmine eased the backpack from her shoulders and let if fall gently besides the chair. Her hands were bloodened. The Albino Stigmata. Blood tears from the eyes had led to blood to fall upon the palms of her hands.
"There are some deep wounds", the female said, "some bleeding....don't appear to be immediately life threatening...that's odd...."
Jasmine sensed that the device had revealed something about her but her thinking was interrupted by the Yiazzis return with a paste.
"She is not exactly normal human...", the Yiazzis spoke and began to pour water over the wounds.
A voice from overhead, a familiar voice, presumably the captain issued an update over the security situation - they now had cannon support from overhead. The Yiazzis, as careful as always.
"Ivy seems to take to weapons well", the nearby female spoke again, "If I may ask, what is going on?"
The Yiazzis poured more water upon the wounds with little care to the mess. "Ask", she said, "I will listen also."
"You honour me with water I do not deserve Yiazzis.", Jasmine grimaced as the cooling water ran into her wounds upon her back making her move awkwardly.
"I'm Bobbi, a Starfleet researcher, what's going on?"
Jasmine turned to face the female, Bobbi, as the Yiazzis slathered the prepared paste into her wounds, holding the edges together and using what resembled beetle heads from her pouch to clamp the cuts together.
"My name is Jasmine Moonshade, although I am known by many names. My people call me their Adherent, but in truth they were never my people..."
"What do they mean by 'adherent'?"
Before she could answer, the Yiazzis had pushed Jasmine back into her chair and was treating the wounds to her shoulders and abdomen in the same manner as her back.
"The desert born....", Jasmine nodded towards the Morloch with a knowing look, "...not known for their gentle nature. As I was saying, an Adherent is a title given to the religious leader of our tribe...they saw in me an echo of their messiah...but I was the architect of their destruction...the tribe......they lived secretly, in hiding for many years. They found me, lost and near death in the desert, nursed me back to health in the belief I was a holy figure. In my arrogance, I unveiled us to the world and brought death to the people...."
Jasmine stared into nothingness, not realising that the Yiazzis had left the saloon to scour for more beetle heads until she returned through the open door and returned to treating the wounds.
"You revealed the desert born to the corporations?" asked the Starfleet researcher, as another figure entered the saloon and sat down at an adjacent table.
"We are not desert born", Jasmine lifted a finger to stress the point, a point amplified by the voice of the Yiazzis. "They are Jadites."
"Jadites?"
"There are people who fled Al Raqis and sought refuge in the desert. They are not all 'native' to this world although some are. I, myself, am known as a Moon-baby, native to a world called Xibilu."
"Moon-babys are used for organ replacement. Slaves.", the Yiazzis interjected.
"Oh no. From where?"
"They call it the Alliance." Jasmine spoke with a venom that surprised even herself.
"Alliance? And the corporations? How do they all relate?"
The Yiazzis spoke as she watered down the remnants of the prepared paste and began spreading it over exposed skin. "Blue Sun is from the Alliance."
Jasmine felt a sudden emotion overcome her and she clasped at the garment the Yiazzis wore. Feeling the bloody tears upon her cheeks again, she spoke solemnly "I come for my judgment Yiazzis. I come for what I deserve! Judgement!"
The Yiazzis stopped what she was doing and looked down as Jasmine looked up. "Your choices, your consequences, Adherent. I did not make your choices, I cannot give you consequences."
The Adherent returned her head to her hands "So many times I have tried to drive the guilt from myself. In pain, I sought refuge."
"Your own pain?", the realisation came to Bobbi now, "You did this to yourself?"
"I will voice an opinion", the Yiazzis sounded stern, "You fail them and yourself by this choice. Jade lives. She will have need of you."
Jasmine shook her head in desperation "What will she make of my decisions? So much blood spilit. May Jade have mercy on my soul!"
"Do not decide what her decisions will be", the Yiazzis spoke with authority, "Talk with her. You cannot choose for another. They must all make their own choices." She stopped, clearly in thought, "They made their choices. Their consequences are their own. You chose life for them, not death. But death came anyway."
"The savages that struck us.....I had not seen their like before.", Jasmine stood wearily as she spoke, perhaps seeking to reaffirm her position after a display of weakness, "their skin was red.....by nature or by artificial colouration I cannot tell you. They were savage powerful warriors, dark armour that seemed to absorb the light, it did not reflect the sun"
"Stealth armor, old technology but useful"
"They slaughtered without discrimination. They took the water of the young as freely as the water of our warriors."
"It covered only part of them...so that you saw their skin? Any other noticeable marks?"
"An odour....how can I describe it...clinical but somehow musky and animal like."
"That does not match any Starborn we have observed...."
"Or" said Bobbi, the Starfleet researcher, "if I may interject, any I recognise"
"And yet..." continued the Yiazzis, "they attacked only the Sanctuary, nothing else on Araxes. That argues for a mercenary attack. And that means money..."
Jasmine nodded "Logical reasoning. There are many with money upon this world....and those who have recently left.."
"So not the moon-babies seeking vengeance against the Jadites for the missing children..."
"What was the Sanctuary?", Bobbi asked.
"A refuge for those who rebelled and wished to live in peace" came the reply from the Yiazzis, "Sanctuaries here are.....places of learning, but that one was abandoned hundreds of years ago. We allowed the Jadeites to live there. They did not seek to destroy Mother Araxes. Unlike some others..."
"Someone trying to destroy the Council of Ghosts" interjected the captain from the roof. Jasmine became alert at the mention of the Council and tried to place the voice.
"I fear the Council are lost", Jasmine spoke sombrely, "there were but three moonbabies within our tribe - I have not seen nor heard of them since the attack", she turned to the Yiazzis with narrowed eyes, "Then we were mistaken in the belief we were hidden from the Desert Born. Our hubris betrays us once again. No matter. What is done is done. The Sanctuary has fallen."
"Another rises, to the north and west....." The Yiazzis cut off mid-sentence as the captain from the roof, Ivy, walked through the door, "...Captain, it seems we do not seek another destroyer, just yet. Thank you for your service, we are in your debt."
After a customary bow, the Yiazzis addressed the group again. "Have any of you seen a redskinned species, here or elsewhere?"
The cloaked figure that sat at the adjacent table spoke, "I know exposure to radiation and strong and sharp gusts of wind can flay the flesh and leave a red appearance."
As the group spoke, the captain from the roof who the others had called Ivy, took the opportunity to whisper something in Jasmine's direction. She read the captain's lips and gave the hand signal that she understood what she had been said.
[Edited for brevity]
The world seemed too bright, as though the universe had lost contrast Her head pounded and she fought the creeping blindness that permeated her peripheral vision. Still, she recognised the scents of Azaadi, a strange mixture of the desert, off-worlders and something familiar that lay beyond her limited memory. She leant up against the wall of an alleyway, grazing her arm against the rough texture. Then, she heard a voice she knew. She peered up and realised where she was - the Bleeding Reaver Saloon.
Jasmine staggered into the saloon, swayed from side to side and fell to the floor, her strength had finally left her. She looked up and saw hazy figures at a table.
"Adherent!"
The voice of the Yiazzis!
Jasmine thought she may have said the words but realised she could no longer tell whether she was speaking or thinking. A figure knelt before her and she felt a canteen offered. She thought she heard a female voice from elsewhere in the room but she focused her eyes on the figure before her.
"All is undone!", Jasmine spat the words out through a dry mouth, "All is undone!"
"You are without a shirt? You will blister." She felt the canteen offered again and this time Jasmine took it and drank thirstily.
"Slowly, slowly, not too fast. You will throw up."
Jasmine took the canteen away from her mouth, nodded and let some of the water spill down her face before drinking again.
"Come, sit down....I will make something for your shoulders.....and your chest." Several lacerations marked the Adherent's torso, long and repeated lashings.
She climbed to her feet and staggered across to a chair. The water had the desired effect and she felt a modicum of clarity return to her thinking. She realised that her delirium had blocked out the pain from her wounds she had sustained and that that pain was swiftly returning.
"Captain", the Yiazzis gestured to a figure across the room, "keep watch, with weapon drawn, if you please."
Another figure, clouded by the red haze around her vision, asked with concern "Is there anything I can do? Should do?"
"Yes, XenoAnthropologist, examine those wounds if you please."
As the Yiazzis voice pulled away to a space behind, she heard a pulsing, occasionally irregular but somehow melodic beeping came from a device the other figure held at close quarters. Jasmine rested her head in her hands and felt bloody tears fall from her eyes. As the female analysed her readings, Jasmine eased the backpack from her shoulders and let if fall gently besides the chair. Her hands were bloodened. The Albino Stigmata. Blood tears from the eyes had led to blood to fall upon the palms of her hands.
"There are some deep wounds", the female said, "some bleeding....don't appear to be immediately life threatening...that's odd...."
Jasmine sensed that the device had revealed something about her but her thinking was interrupted by the Yiazzis return with a paste.
"She is not exactly normal human...", the Yiazzis spoke and began to pour water over the wounds.
A voice from overhead, a familiar voice, presumably the captain issued an update over the security situation - they now had cannon support from overhead. The Yiazzis, as careful as always.
"Ivy seems to take to weapons well", the nearby female spoke again, "If I may ask, what is going on?"
The Yiazzis poured more water upon the wounds with little care to the mess. "Ask", she said, "I will listen also."
"You honour me with water I do not deserve Yiazzis.", Jasmine grimaced as the cooling water ran into her wounds upon her back making her move awkwardly.
"I'm Bobbi, a Starfleet researcher, what's going on?"
Jasmine turned to face the female, Bobbi, as the Yiazzis slathered the prepared paste into her wounds, holding the edges together and using what resembled beetle heads from her pouch to clamp the cuts together.
"My name is Jasmine Moonshade, although I am known by many names. My people call me their Adherent, but in truth they were never my people..."
"What do they mean by 'adherent'?"
Before she could answer, the Yiazzis had pushed Jasmine back into her chair and was treating the wounds to her shoulders and abdomen in the same manner as her back.
"The desert born....", Jasmine nodded towards the Morloch with a knowing look, "...not known for their gentle nature. As I was saying, an Adherent is a title given to the religious leader of our tribe...they saw in me an echo of their messiah...but I was the architect of their destruction...the tribe......they lived secretly, in hiding for many years. They found me, lost and near death in the desert, nursed me back to health in the belief I was a holy figure. In my arrogance, I unveiled us to the world and brought death to the people...."
Jasmine stared into nothingness, not realising that the Yiazzis had left the saloon to scour for more beetle heads until she returned through the open door and returned to treating the wounds.
"You revealed the desert born to the corporations?" asked the Starfleet researcher, as another figure entered the saloon and sat down at an adjacent table.
"We are not desert born", Jasmine lifted a finger to stress the point, a point amplified by the voice of the Yiazzis. "They are Jadites."
"Jadites?"
"There are people who fled Al Raqis and sought refuge in the desert. They are not all 'native' to this world although some are. I, myself, am known as a Moon-baby, native to a world called Xibilu."
"Moon-babys are used for organ replacement. Slaves.", the Yiazzis interjected.
"Oh no. From where?"
"They call it the Alliance." Jasmine spoke with a venom that surprised even herself.
"Alliance? And the corporations? How do they all relate?"
The Yiazzis spoke as she watered down the remnants of the prepared paste and began spreading it over exposed skin. "Blue Sun is from the Alliance."
Jasmine felt a sudden emotion overcome her and she clasped at the garment the Yiazzis wore. Feeling the bloody tears upon her cheeks again, she spoke solemnly "I come for my judgment Yiazzis. I come for what I deserve! Judgement!"
The Yiazzis stopped what she was doing and looked down as Jasmine looked up. "Your choices, your consequences, Adherent. I did not make your choices, I cannot give you consequences."
The Adherent returned her head to her hands "So many times I have tried to drive the guilt from myself. In pain, I sought refuge."
"Your own pain?", the realisation came to Bobbi now, "You did this to yourself?"
"I will voice an opinion", the Yiazzis sounded stern, "You fail them and yourself by this choice. Jade lives. She will have need of you."
Jasmine shook her head in desperation "What will she make of my decisions? So much blood spilit. May Jade have mercy on my soul!"
"Do not decide what her decisions will be", the Yiazzis spoke with authority, "Talk with her. You cannot choose for another. They must all make their own choices." She stopped, clearly in thought, "They made their choices. Their consequences are their own. You chose life for them, not death. But death came anyway."
"The savages that struck us.....I had not seen their like before.", Jasmine stood wearily as she spoke, perhaps seeking to reaffirm her position after a display of weakness, "their skin was red.....by nature or by artificial colouration I cannot tell you. They were savage powerful warriors, dark armour that seemed to absorb the light, it did not reflect the sun"
"Stealth armor, old technology but useful"
"They slaughtered without discrimination. They took the water of the young as freely as the water of our warriors."
"It covered only part of them...so that you saw their skin? Any other noticeable marks?"
"An odour....how can I describe it...clinical but somehow musky and animal like."
"That does not match any Starborn we have observed...."
"Or" said Bobbi, the Starfleet researcher, "if I may interject, any I recognise"
"And yet..." continued the Yiazzis, "they attacked only the Sanctuary, nothing else on Araxes. That argues for a mercenary attack. And that means money..."
Jasmine nodded "Logical reasoning. There are many with money upon this world....and those who have recently left.."
"So not the moon-babies seeking vengeance against the Jadites for the missing children..."
"What was the Sanctuary?", Bobbi asked.
"A refuge for those who rebelled and wished to live in peace" came the reply from the Yiazzis, "Sanctuaries here are.....places of learning, but that one was abandoned hundreds of years ago. We allowed the Jadeites to live there. They did not seek to destroy Mother Araxes. Unlike some others..."
"Someone trying to destroy the Council of Ghosts" interjected the captain from the roof. Jasmine became alert at the mention of the Council and tried to place the voice.
"I fear the Council are lost", Jasmine spoke sombrely, "there were but three moonbabies within our tribe - I have not seen nor heard of them since the attack", she turned to the Yiazzis with narrowed eyes, "Then we were mistaken in the belief we were hidden from the Desert Born. Our hubris betrays us once again. No matter. What is done is done. The Sanctuary has fallen."
"Another rises, to the north and west....." The Yiazzis cut off mid-sentence as the captain from the roof, Ivy, walked through the door, "...Captain, it seems we do not seek another destroyer, just yet. Thank you for your service, we are in your debt."
After a customary bow, the Yiazzis addressed the group again. "Have any of you seen a redskinned species, here or elsewhere?"
The cloaked figure that sat at the adjacent table spoke, "I know exposure to radiation and strong and sharp gusts of wind can flay the flesh and leave a red appearance."
As the group spoke, the captain from the roof who the others had called Ivy, took the opportunity to whisper something in Jasmine's direction. She read the captain's lips and gave the hand signal that she understood what she had been said.
[Edited for brevity]
20130316
20130304
The Age of Tribulations
"All the world will be your enemy.... And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you; digger, listener, runner....Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed"
Quotation.
Jasmine Moonshade stood and looked out upon the Evangeline desert. She didn't know how long she had been standing there, the specks of sand that pecked at her face through her covering like an chaotic hourglass gave no determination of time.
The sanctuary was lost, reclaimed by the desert as all things were eventually, all of it's history lost like dust in sand.
For hundreds of years or more, so they thought, the Inspirtu had hidden away from the world, finding peace in their reclusive nature. Their secret haven was known to only a few outsiders, who themselves were sworn to secrecy.
Now they were spread across the desert, once again wandering the unforgiven sands like nomads, as their ancestors had done millennia before. The blood had been spilt. Men, women, children. Slain by the creatures that fell from the sky or turned to dust by the ungodly weapon that had fallen to ground like the devil's own wrath.
She was partly responsible. She knew that and her heart ached with such sorrow. It had been her decision to remove the veil. Her decision to announce to the world, emboldened by the Albino Messiah, that they were here, that they existed. The Council had warned against it, feared the consequences of such actions. She had called them cowards and unworthy of the messiah's grace.
She turned from the desert to the crevasse that led to the deeper deserts. The remnants of the nomadic caravans that had ventured out into the dusty plains waited for her, her personal guards and advisors waiting patiently, understanding the sense of loss.
"The blood was spilt, Adherent. We knew this was a possibility."
The voice was a familiar one. Taryn peeled back her face covering and put her hand on the Adherent's shoulder.
"The ancient texts spoke of such a day", Jasmine spoke with a mournful anger, "The Tmiem Ta J'iem - the end of days. When the world would burn and the messiah would rise. I did not suspect that the prophecy would speak of our own personal world, our secret world."
Taryn stood silent and looked out to the Evangeline desert where the thick cloud of smoke still rose above the horizon for several miles.
"We should have suspected", Jasmine continued, "when the Holy Calina warned us of the Messiah's return from death. We believed we were wise but the prophecy dumbfounds us all. "
"Perhaps that is the way prophecies should be, Adherent. To know everything would rob us of that which makes us most human. Now, please come and be treated, let us cleanse your wound."
Jasmine stood quietly for a moment and then nodded, walking to the caravan.
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