Introduction:
Billy Higgins, one of the most influential drummers in jazz history, has been celebrated for his extraordinary ability to bring a sense of joy, sensitivity, and creativity to every performance. Over the course of his prolific career, Higgins became a key figure in the development of several jazz movements, particularly hard bop, free jazz, and post-bop. Known for his subtle touch,…
The Tideturners have lived in secrecy for decades, their operations hidden deep within the heart of the Mists. Rarely have they ever dared to reach out to the myriad of worlds that exist beyond their headquarters-- but things are changing. Time ticks away. The horizon draws closer. They cannot afford to hide away forever.
When the Commander was contacted by their head of security and offered a tentative alliance, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Why him? Why now? Who even are these masked strangers that all seem to know him so much better than he knows any of them? It was unsettling even back then, but now he knows exactly why.
Tick tock. Tick tock. It was a daring move, breaking into the Sidewinder's office to search for the answers, but the truth of this place is finally in his hands. If only it didn't leave him with so many more questions than answers. How can he possibly trust them now?
He has no idea how much his old adversaries feel the same.
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The Sidewinder had always claimed that ASP’s security features shone crimson as a warning. Few had reason to doubt her claims; it made sense after all, didn’t it? Red was the color of blood. Danger. Risk. Injury. Who wouldn’t take it seriously? That was certainly how the Inquest used it, and the message never went questioned for long. To most, it was as logical an explanation as any– and there was no reason to ask any further after that.
What else, after all, could the color red possibly mean?
The Commander had almost forgotten, after all these years.
Alarms blared, shrieking into the Turnabout’s main office from every direction. Every circuit flared with sharp, biting crimson, flickering along the wires and making the electric lighting overhead sputter and spark as if on the verge of a short. Power surged all around them– all from a source that he now knew all too well. How had he been such a fool?
“Mai.” A single word left the asura’s lips. That was all he needed to say.
The masked figure before him bowed her head. Acknowledgement, yet defiance remained as her shoulders rolled, the dangling chain links of her mechanical pauldrons rattling. He didn’t need to know what expression lay behind that disguise; he could already guess. Or, at least, he was pretty sure he could.
“You know,” hummed a familiar electronic voice from a nearby speaker, “This really is no way to repay our generosity. Breaking into our humble workplace, after we so graciously invited you into our home? Tsk tsk. You really are a shameless little rat. Pity we didn’t set up any mousetraps for you.” Even laced with a heavy layer of static, he knew that voice well.
“Don’t play coy with me. I know who you are, too.” The Commander’s voice was quivering. “The red energy signature, the morbid jokes, that pretentious attitude… Mai’s identity was just the last piece of the puzzle.” His eyes narrowed, jaw set as he glared into the closest camera. “You really had me going for a bit there, too. I almost believed you might be the real deal.” A twisted laugh echoed through the room, tinny as it reverberated from every intercom at once.
He knew that laugh, too. He’d certainly heard it enough times.
Red meant danger. Red meant fire and molten metal.
But most of all, it also meant Scarlet Briar.
“Come now, I would have thought the truth would be even more impressive! It’s not every day you meet a literal ghost in the machine, darling.” The Commander rolled his eyes, unimpressed.
“Oh please. Every Inquest flunkie knows how to merge a living being with a golem, it’s not that impressive. I’ve encountered at least a dozen different biomechanical prototypes over the course of my career.” An annoyed ‘tch’ could be heard crackling through the speakers.
“And how many of them were able to utilize that procedure to anchor a Fractalized echo, hm?” He had to admit, hearing her actually sound a bit irritated was a nice change of pace. “Or, say, give that spirit total control over a supercomputer hub and by extension, the entire facility it operates? None, I imagine. But you silly little asura do so love to think you’re the smartest ones in the room…”
“Hm,” he remarked, unable to resist poking the bear one last time, “I think you just described yourself, actually.” A sharp pneumatic hiss rattled maintenance pipes in the ceiling, and he couldn’t quite tell if the technomancer’s invocation was hissing at him on purpose or had literally blown a gasket. He suspected it to be a bit of both.
But the altercation was swiftly cut off as one boot thumped the floor impatiently. The Sidewinder didn’t look impressed; her tense body posture spoke louder than any words. The gleaming golden claws of one gauntlet were gripping a pistol at her hip, though she hadn’t yet drawn it. He studied her for a long moment, waiting. She made no move to approach.
“Whatever you may think of me,” she growled finally through rattling hardware, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight. Surrender quietly and we can put this behind us.” The Commander fell silent.
There was something in her voice that he hadn’t caught before. It was easy to miss behind the layers of electronic filtering, but… The more he focused on it, the more certain he was. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the revelation, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut. Suddenly he wondered if that mask was worn to disguise more than just her identity.
… She was scared of him. The Sidewinder wasn’t shaking from anger, but fear.
And in spite of all the poking and prodding, ASP still hadn’t made a single attempt to harm him. Neither of the two had, waiting for him to make the first move. They didn’t want to fight.
The Commander wasn’t the type to back down from a scrap, no matter how impossible the odds. He’d taken on entire armies practically alone, slain massive heaps of raging dragon corruption, dismantled legions of mechanical horrors. He wasn’t afraid to use force if he had to– but that was just it, wasn’t it? He could feel his own hands shaking. This doesn’t have to end in a fight. The Mai he’d known rarely showed that kind of restraint. She only ever gave up when pushed into a corner, beaten down and hopeless.
This woman was so broken she’d given up before the battle even began.
There was no honor to be found in defeating someone like that. The mere thought of it just made him feel like a mean-spirited bully.
A long, heavy sigh escaped the asura’s lips and, with no small amount of reluctance… He allowed his weapons to clatter to the floor. The Commander hoped he wasn’t going to regret that. For a long moment all was silent aside from the continuous blare of that alarm.
“... Er..” To his amusement, the Sidewinder actually sounded a bit incredulous. “You’re.. Actually surrendering?” She straightened slowly, as if unsure what exactly she should be doing under these circumstances; this clearly wasn’t an outcome she’d actually expected. Even ASP seemed to be at a loss for words, her various jade tech artillery modules around the room slowly lowering in apparent confusion. Clearly the ‘AI’ wasn’t as much of a loose cannon as she liked to pretend.
It wasn’t something he was used to doing either, but… This time, it felt like the right choice. The Commander nodded. “I am.” His former adversary only seemed to be even more perplexed, shifting her weight back and forth awkwardly before glancing pointedly at his dropped weapons.
“... If I were to pass on what happened here, you'd be imprisoned at best, but most likely banished from the premises.” He could hear the inner conflict in the Sidewinder's tone. She paused for a long moment, head slightly lowered; only after seeing her nod a few times did he realize she was conducting a silent conversation with ASP. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she lifted one gauntlet and snapped her fingers.
ASP’s alarms went silent as all the room's defenses retreated back into their hidden panels. All that remained of ASP's presence now were a few illuminated screens and the Sidewinder herself, her mask's red eyes watching the Commander in silent contemplation. He didn't interrupt, waiting patiently for her final verdict– only for the staring contest to finally break as she made a gruff ‘ahem’ into one gauntlet.
“... Just put those away,” she ordered finally. “Gods know what sort of magical radiation you're packing. I'd rather not risk frying my hardware by handling them, but if anyone catches you armed then you're on your own.” He knows what she really means and won't say; if she confiscated his weapons they’d have to be logged. She's keeping him off the books. He gave her a nod of understanding and finally crouched to retrieve them, returning the weapons to his bag.
“It really isn't an act, is it?” he inquired finally. “When I broke in here I assumed you were trying to pull a fast one on me, but…” Glancing to the cameras, he frowned. “You two really aren't planning anything are you?” The Sidewinder snorted quietly.
“Oh you silly thing,” chuckled ASP with no small amount of amusement, “You really thought that, what, we lured you here as part of some nefarious trap? Come now, we both know I'm a more effective schemer than that.”
“What she means to say,” clarified the Sidewinder with an exasperated shake of her head, “is that if we wanted to hurt you, leading you right into our base would be one hell of a stupid way to start.” One hand raised, resting on the side of her mask. Hesitation. “But… I get it. You don't trust us, and we don't trust you. Sooner or later something was going to have to give, and I know hiding so much didn't do us any favors. It’s time we talked… Face to face.”
Click. The mask popped loose, electronics flickering out as it slid forward from the mechanical latches shifting underneath. When she drew it away, the sharp gaze that met the Commander's eyes told him everything.
The woman staring back at him with weary eyes certainly was Mai Trin… But not as he'd ever seen her.
She looked so tired and worn. Scars marked her jaw and vanished down into the collar of her coat, tracing old chemical burns that must have been excruciatingly painful. The wear of many years was written all over her features; he couldn't tell whether she was really that much older than the Mai he'd known, or if those creases had been carved by stress and pressure alone. This was the face of someone who'd been through the depths of hell and brought it back with her. There was no escape from the nightmares that lived on in her eyes.
When he'd seen Mai drunken and rambling, abandoned by her crew with nothing left of her legacy except the barely coherent spirit of her former boss, he thought that was as damaged as the woman could possibly get. Maybe the Sidewinder was more stable, but he couldn't begin to imagine what could leave her with such a deeply haunted look. The Commander knew that look, though. He knew it very, very well.
It was the same he saw whenever he looked in the mirror, thinking about all the things he could've done differently and all the lives he couldn't save.
The Commander's gaze softened. Mai had wanted so desperately to be more than the horrors of her past. But in the end, no matter how far she ran, the darkness of her history always had a way of catching her up and dragging her down with it. He doubted this was what she'd had in mind, but it proved one thing he'd only ever been able to guess at before.
… All she'd ever really needed was a chance to be someone better.
“I shouldn't have ransacked your files,” he admitted, scratching behind one ear. “That was pretty reckless, even with my suspicions. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but… I apologize for misjudging you.” The Commander thought for a moment, brows furrowing. “Your version of Scarlet isn't exactly the industry standard either, is she?”
“Well you certainly did find the rudest possible way to phrase that, now didn't you?” the invocation huffed. “But no, I suppose I'm not what you would consider a ‘standard’ echo of Scarlet Briar, as far as the Mists are concerned. Though I like to think that's a good thing.”
“She died early,” the Sidewinder elaborated quietly. “Before the war even began. Her Alliance had barely even come together. Because of that she's a lot less… Corrupted. Turns out not having a dragon in her head does wonders for her sanity.”
“See? As I said, it's a good thing.” Despite the revenant's somber tone, he could've sworn ASP sounded more chipper than ever. “I for one quite like being stable and well-adjusted. Isn't it nice when we aren't trying to kill each other?” In spite of himself, the Commander couldn't help a slight wry smile. He was starting to grasp her sense of humor a little bit more. For all her jokes, she was all bark and no bite.
The last thing ASP wanted was to go back to square one.
“Well, it's an improvement.” He maintained that smile. “At least now when you get an itchy trigger finger, you don't actually follow through on it.”
“Exactly!” she cackled, apparently ecstatic that he was playing along. “See Mai, he gets it! These days I just traumatize nuisances with words instead of violence. It’s MUCH more efficient and I don't get confined to a toaster for maiming some incompetent clerk that doesn't know what an arcanomatrix cryotemperate modulator is.” The Sidewinder rubbed one hand over her face with the most drawn out exasperated sigh he'd ever heard. And that was quite a feat considering how many ridiculous questions had been asked of his poor college professors in class…
“Please don't encourage her,” she groaned. “You're going to give me a hangover and I haven't even started drinking yet.” The Commander raised an eyebrow at her thoughtfully.
“... ‘Yet?’ So I take it you haven’t kicked that habit?”
“Try getting through a day with that menace rattling around in your skull and you'll understand.” ASP gasped in feign offense, but the theatrics were sign enough that she wasn't actually upset. He was starting to figure that out pretty quickly.
… The two of them really were just joking around with him now weren't they? It was a surprisingly comforting revelation– not only that they trusted him enough to include him in their banter… But that he also felt good enough about it to join in naturally, too. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out okay in the end. Their casual snark actually reminded him of some of his friends from Dragon's Watch.
“Fair enough,” he agreed, that smile still in place– even as ASP let out another offended gasp in turn. It was remarkable how quickly the tension had melted away now that they were actually being transparent with each other. Maybe that was all they’d really needed.
A leap of faith, no matter what consequences it may entail.
“Well, while you two were ganging up on me like the little traitors you are,” ASP bit back, “I’ve gone ahead and finished logging this security breach as a hardware malfunction in the official records. You’re welcome, you ungrateful drones.” He caught a faint ‘snrk’ from the Sidewinder.
“Yes, thank you ASP.” With that, she made a swiping gesture in front of her with one gauntlet to summon a levitating holotablet, and then swiped and tapped a few more times before dismissing the display with a flick. “There, went ahead and cleared out my schedule for the day. I have a feeling this chat might take some time, Commander.” With that, she retrieved a stool from the edge of the room and placed it next to her desk, flopping into her own seat with a surprisingly casual air. He almost expected her to put her boots on the table, but apparently that level of disdain was strictly reserved for business meetings and politics.
Understanding the prompt, he took a seat on the stool with a nod of agreement. “Then we’d better get started. I think we’ve got a lot to catch up on, Mai.”
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It was a bit haunting, she thought. The look on his face as she concluded her briefing felt so strange to her. Perhaps this Commander was full of surprises. And perhaps he wasn’t. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure whether his reaction was what she expected or not.
Such keen sympathy wasn’t something she was accustomed to seeing on that face.
But, for all his familiarity, the person wearing that face was much different from the one she’d known. And the Sidewinder had known that– of course she did– but had she been prepared for it? Not as well as she’d thought, it seemed. Even knowing the heart that beat within him was kind and warm, she still found herself waiting to find cold, bitter ice waiting in his eyes.
This wasn’t her Commander. And she’d keep reminding herself of that until she believed it.
“... I’m sorry,” he spoke finally. “It does explain a lot, though. And.. Strange as it is, I can relate.” The asura’s brows creased once more, studying her briefly before glancing at the red flickers that danced along a magitech display. “It seems like everyone around this place has a knack for defying expectations.” She caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, if for just a moment. But then it was gone– and he fixed his focused golden eyes on her once more, contemplative. “But… There’s one more thing I’d like to ask, if I may.” The Sidewinder felt her jaw clench ever-so-slightly, but she gave him a nod nonetheless.
“Alright, ask away.” She had a bad feeling she already knew what his question would be.
“... You never mentioned the Grand High Sovereign’s name.” She hated when she was right.
“Trust me,” she answered quietly. “You’re better off not knowing.”
But she could already see the answer in his eyes. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t telling him. She didn’t have to. He already knew. There was no hiding this truth from him, no matter how deeply she wished to. The guard rails were already off, and it was far too late to put them back on.
Commander Ruju watched her silently with those tired, tired eyes, and she couldn’t help thinking how much different the two were. His expression was weary in a way that only the living could accomplish; there was a fire still burning deep within, smoldering under a layer of long-blackened ash. He kept it guarded carefully, but if you were to set your hand over the cinders, you would still sear your fingers on its concealed flame. Resolve like that had been tempered by a lifetime of strain, endlessly fighting against the flow of fate.
The Ruju she’d known was empty and cold, forever seeking the darkness that would one day fill in where a living heart was meant to beat. There was nothing in his eyes, not even hate. That asura had felt more like a machine than a living being even before he replaced so much of his body with rigid, unfeeling metal. Now she wasn’t sure if he had a living heart at all.
What had made him that way? The Sidewinder didn’t know, and likely never would.
He lowered his eyes finally, one stubby claw starting to trace circles on the desk in front of him. “That’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” She couldn’t quite identify the emotion in his voice. Regret? Frustration? Resignation? All of the above? “I’m the only option you haven’t tried.” There was no blame in it, though. She almost wished that there was.
“Lots of Commanders have tried,” the Sidewinder admitted. “None of them survived. You–”
“I can do it.” Her heart sank, breath hitching sharply. “I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. I might be the only one who can.” The earnest fire that broke out in his voice– the fierce resolve. She knew that expression, and she was never, ever going to let this happen again.
“Don’t.” He seemed almost taken aback by the firmness of her tone. “The last thing we need to do is to feed another corpse into that lunatic’s meat grinder.”
“Your chances of survival are roughly 0.000001 percent, dear,” ASP chimed in coldly. “And that’s assuming you flee at the start of battle. Victory? That’s a hard 0. I’ve run the statistics. And believe you me, a supercomputer powered by an intellect like mine simply doesn’t make errors.”
Commander Ruju paused at that, but she could tell he was thinking. Finally there was a light tap of his nail against the table once more. His resolve was unwavering, but she saw something else this time– a flash of cunning. Maybe he was most used to having immense brute force on his side, but… That wasn’t how he got his start. Before Ruju was a soldier, he was a scientist.
“Then, how do we even the odds?” The Sidewinder could feel her invocation smile.
“... That’s more like it. Now you’re thinking like a strategist, Commander.”
