Brent Stinebaker
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33-9 Guilty
🕑 Added 2025-01-21 17:47:03 +0000 UTCEveryone is spying and scrying on each other. That is the most natural thing. Especially between allies. Trust is for amateurs. Professionals verify. Professionals know. And professionals understand that other professionals have obligations to meet and duties to perform.
This is why you Juv-Necs shouldn’t be surprised if you find some Ori sequencing in your Stormtree paydata. Because of course they’re there. The Incubi are taking a peek too. And while they’re watching everyone else, people are watching them as well.
You think the Nether is the only means of tradecraft? I’ve seen No-Dragon miracles achieve the most ridiculous feats of infiltration. They have viruses that can listen and transmit genetic memory from their hosts. They shape new viruses that serve as paracausal auditory listening aids and use your skin as a listening post.
Yeah… some of you are starting to get it. Starting to understand just how much effort it takes to create an airtight environment resistant to all infiltration.
Well, I’m here to tell you that you can get close, but not all the way there. Whatever your edge, someone else has another. And that’s the way the world turns.
Plan well. Double-check your intel. But as always, be prepared to jack out.
Even with all that, there’s a chance you might end up nulled. But there’s a chance you could get flash-fried by a Heaven of Fire the next second. There’s only so much we can foresee and control…
-White-Rab
33-9
Guilty
—[Jelene Draus]—
Draus was starting to have that funny feeling again. That funny feeling that came when there was something wrong, but she just couldn’t tell what. These feelings mainly came to her when she was pinned by a sniper from beyond visual range, or after certain specific memories went missing—which meant a Necro was behind her wards.
You survive enough wars, and you start getting instincts for when something was crawling over the horizon to fuck you.
Problem was that feelings didn’t grant prescience. Despite all her new capabilities, she wasn’t Avo. Wasn’t even a Necro for that matter.
+They remain stable,+ Mercy said, reviewing the Chosen again. The Famine had his tentacles latched to each of the flats’ minds, so he would be the first to know if any of these Guilder half-strands were doing anything. So far, aside from the Ori taking a peek at their near-term memories and the Sang spreading a few viruses, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Problem was that Draus’ paranoia only got worse. +Your paranoia is understandable. The mind learns in patterns, and you are used to conflict—+
+I’m used to the opposition doin’ something. Anything. Right now, it seems like the Infacer and Veylis are just plannin’ to turtle up or whatever the hells… The Guilds are cowed and showing their bellies. It all looks too damn good and compliant.+
+You would rather someone make an attempt on your life? To destroy this station?+
+Yeah. I would. I know how to deal with that shit. Give me something to shoot back at.+
+You are a very material individual, Knight-Draus. But the domain of warfare exceeds that of matter. Trust that my vigilance guards the fallen realm of the mind.+
+Yeah, fuck that. I don’t trust you, Mercy—I trust Avo. And seein’ as he left you alive, I’m guessing you’re pretty castrated. But I also remember Avo’s fuck-ups too. His first encounter with the Incubi, our little bout with Abrel, him getting dragged into the Deep Nether—not even his fault, that one. For all he’s become, he ain’t omnipotent. And that’s the fucked thing: What you know might kill you, what you don’t definitely will. Keep looking. Don’t stop.+
The Famine sent thoughts of bowing to Draus through the Lovenet and she snorted internally. Bastard really took this new “Avo is a king and we’re his court” gimmick all the way to the end. She had half a mind to assume this was still a Nolothi plot. Maybe the ultimate warmind is that of Arrogance — Arrogance, so after they tongue Avo’s ghoul ass enough, his ego might overinflate and finally pop.
+Whoa, Draus, that sounds like one of my thoughts,+ Chambers muttered.
The Regular held back a wince. Right. The Nether was fucked. She was using Chambers as a replacement. Not ideal at all. Hells, it might even be his fault she was thinking this way. Who knew what kind of weird shit the Bonds were pouring into her. +Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thought I’ve had recently.+
+Yeah? Me neither. For what it’s worth, what’s happening right now is making me all kinds of jittered too. I wish we had White-Rab or someone here with us. Or even Avo. Fuck, Avo would be so useful right now.+
Draus thought about the ruptures spreading out from the Substance, about the war that was probably happening behind the scenes. A weight built inside of her. +I’m not supposed to be here… I ain’t got no real use here. Would be more useful in the thick of things, and him in my place.+
The thoughts left her like a trickle of leaking water, but as they spilled into Chambers, he responded with a somber acknowledgement. +Yeah. I think the same shit sometimes. Kae too. Kare. Like…. I’m no “true” Godclad. Not a good soldier or a warrior or any of that shit. By all means, I shouldn’t be here, and I’m definitely not a better user for the Heaven of Love than… fuck, maybe most of the city. But I don’t think deserve matters, Draus. It never did. We’re here, and we got to make the most of things.+
The Regular paused. +Chambers.+
+Yeah, Reg?+
+You almost sounded like Nicoma there.+
+The fuck’s that?+
+My old superior. Got snuffed during the last Guild War. He was practical that way.+
+You miss him? Want him in your place right now?+
Draus considered that for a beat. +Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do. But he spent himself like a Reg should, even when the orders were stupid, even when they didn’t make any sense. Made him better than me. But that might’ve been the problem: We were weapons, but the people who wielded us were fools. Nicoma would just flip over to Veylis and do what she says. No question. No mess.+
+Really,+ Chambers said, surprised. +That sounds—+
+Like he’s a sow.+
The Lovebringer coughed. +Hey, I didn’t say that shit. You did.+
+I know. And it ain’t that different sometimes. Maybe most things aren’t.+
A notification flashed across her cog-feed as a cast from Naeko arrived. +Draus. Me and the, uh, “Council” are in place in the atrium. EGI Bleak Refusal’s in position as well. You can open your passages now.+
+Synced. See you soon, Chief.+
Seven passages opened for seven delegations as seven replicas of Draus ferried them through. Her actual self was in the innermost threshold of her Paracosmos—gave her means to act and shoot first in case anyone decided to do something stupid. The bulk of Chambers’ ontology was next to her manifested Heavens as well.
With Naeko’s mists choking everyone, direct attacks and active violence likely weren’t going to be a concern, but the best way to ensure safety was to have your own gun and keep a finger on the trigger.
+So, how do you think this is gonna go?+ Chambers asked.
+No fuckin’ clue.+
+Hey. You got any idea why Jaus is so adamant on hanging back? Like, he’s the Savior. Half the Colors might turn on their Guilds if he just said something.+
+Got nothin’ for you there either. Might think he’s at risk. Might be one of his brilliant plans.+ Or, very possibly, he was a creation of Avo’s, and if the Guilds found out, everything might go to shit. That wasn’t an impossibility. A civilizational psy-op sounded like just the kind of shit to tickle the rotlick’s fancy.
Over three hundred different representatives from each Guild passed the liminal thresholds into a structure shaped from transparent glass. The place they were going to have this little “conference” was smack in the middle of the atrium, along a long strip of chrome and nothing. The planetary ring was unfinished, and so space was a resource it had in plenty. As such, the residences for most of Avo’s War Chosen were well beyond visual sight as well.
Seven different glass houses were created for seven different Guilds. Though Voidwatch technically amounted to a Guild, they were of a different circumstance—and privilege. And by their nature, Draus doubted a glass house could box a mind. Each of these buildings was shaped in the form of a cube, with elevating rows of seats, tables, and basic amenities prepared. A dozen Chosen were also stationed within the structures to further serve as bait.
The distance between the structures was substantial as well. About five hundred meters each, respectively. This ensured that none of them would try to do anything “emotional” upon seeing each other in these trying times.
Again, Naeko’s palm hung above like a dangling blade, but better to ensure a situation where no one gets splattered.
And speaking of Naeko, for all the years the motherfucker spent inside his house playing sim-games, he still knew how to pull some theater out of his ass. Right now, he and all his recovered Paladins were standing on a massive open palm between the glass houses — all of them in combat skins, with arms folded, and hard expressions.
It looked like they were trying to cut a propaganda vic or were part of some new album cover.
The only one who diverged from the mean-mugging was Naeko, who yawned as he balanced himself on the tip of his palm’s middle finger.
Hovering just over his head was a crackling ball of flickering data that registered itself as [EGI BLEAK REFUSAL] to Draus’ exo-cortex implant.
+Good. You’re all here. Sit your asses down. I got shit to say.+ Such were Naeko’s opening words to the arriving emissaries. Not very diplomatic at all—but Draus guessed this effect was deliberate.
“Jaus” was connected to them as well through the Lovenet, but so far, he spoke no comment or left no interjections. The Savior seemed to be content with watching, learning, studying. Maybe he was instructing Naeko as well, but Draus couldn’t be sure.
The delegates responded in a variety of ways. Some Stormtree and Ori delegates griped and moaned, but did as they were told. The rest kept their expressions blank, but even that couldn’t hide the speed at which their accretions were turning, nor the anxiety churning inside them. Their perceptions merged into a coalescing nexus around Naeko.
After some jockeying, the delegates finally managed the impossible task of landing asses upon seats. Ghost-Links formed between certain members, but as a whole, they seemed unprepared for the moment at hand. Which was what Naeko intended, calling all the Guilds to this emergency conference after laying down the law.
As this happened, Chambers Bonds grew taut within each of the delegates, and from the connective threads came the deep boom of Naeko’s voice. +Alright. Welcome to the continuation of the trial. As you might have noticed, this isn’t Scale, so we couldn’t provide all of you with leisure and luxuries. You got a problem with that? Direct your complaints to Veylis and the Burning Dreamer. Actually, feel free to march yourselves into the Substance to tell them directly.+
Some of the delegates looked to each other.
+But then again, I can’t exactly blame all this just on them. You all helped too.+ The delegates eyed each other. A few shifted in their seats, awkwardly. +Oh, don’t be that way now, motherfuckers. You did this. And I let you. I took a sabbatical for a few years and let you guys turn everything to shit.+
Okay. Jaus probably wasn’t feeding him these words. This was all Naeko. And Naeko was mad.
The mists cascading down from the palm made the planetary ring tremble. Draus’ glass houses began to click and creak before an unseen pressure, and through the building obfuscation came hovering figures—Paladins approaching.
Some of the delegates rose from their seats, but Naeko’s next thoughtcast came with a pulse of physical force. +Stay seated.+
A hundred voices cried out as they crashed back down. A few tried to manifest their Heavens, but even their Soulfire was squeezed tight — barely able to trickle. Countless miracles burned and writhed, but found their patterns second to Peace; their Heavens subservient to the Sage.
+He has been kind to you. Soft. He refused to treat you as what you were: Lessers. Slaves. Insects. But I will not.+ No longer was Naeko speaking. This voice came from the palm itself, from an old, rageful god reawakened to an unworthy world. The palm itself was curling, turning into a fist. But it never quite closed.
+What is this!+ a Sang cried out. The young-looking one that accompanying Green River. Odd Moon or something. +You cannot treat us this way! We are your guests! The laws of hospitality are being violated!+
A low, bitter chuckle sounded from Naeko. +Trust me, juv. I haven’t violated anything. Yet. But I could. I could have the Sage here close their hand. And then you won’t have much to complain about ever again. Perfect peace. Forever.+
The girl swallowed. Some other delegates struggled. Tension built. The Paladins approached.
Seven Paladins came to a halt before each of the glass houses. A surge of magenta energy passed between the corresponding Guild emissaries and their assigned Paladin. Chambers directed his powers of correspondence to extend beyond the reach of their local environment, trawling through the relationships the delegates had, seeking their superiors.
It took little time to locate those worthy of note. It took even less effort for Chambers to channel the Paladins across the link behind Guilder lines. In a few minutes, more “essential personnel” from each Guild would be invited into attendance, and the actual power brokers would need to contend with Naeko as well.
+Just breathe,+ Naeko said. +Breath. Because I’m not going to snuff you pointlessly. Not like what you’ve done to so many in my city. No. And don’t worry about my Paladins. They’re just going to have a little chat.+
+Chief Paladin, I understand your anger,+ Ambassador Valhu Kitzuhara said. He, aside from Denton, remained relaxed in posture. +Furthermore, we are willing to work with you to see things made right. The destruction of Scale—+
+FUCK SCALE!+ Naeko roared. +I don’t give a shit about that mountain. I don’t give a shi—My Paladins. You know where they are? Do you? Because I don’t. A lot of them are missing. Missing or worse.+ Valhu’s fists clenched. +Scale was dead for a long time. I let it did. I abandoned it. I abandoned my duty. And there’s no way I can make that right now. Just like there’s no way for your Guilds to make up for what you’ve been doing for centuries. I didn’t call you here today to do another rash-fucked discussion about weregild or reparations. This is about justice. Justice delayed and justice denied. Because you’ve been using the lives of the Subjects like they were your playthings, and we’re all the reason why the world is the way that it is.+
Suddenly, another brightening of magenta filled each of the glass structures. They came alight from the inside just as Naeko’s fog slowly receded, and a second thereafter, the seven Paladins that passed over through the Bonds returned with about a dozen more individuals from each Guild. The “newly invited guests” crashed down before their emissaries at the feet of the Paladins, and a series of stunned reactions followed.
“Dowager Dawn!” Odd Moon cried. Before the Sang was a half-dressed woman half-sheathed into a horse-like bio-rig. The skin lining the upper half of her body swung in rapidly healing tatters, and her bright blue eyes were wide with shock.
Draus caught a cruel smirk briefly flickered on Green River’s face before she suppressed it. Shit was getting messier fast, and strangely, Draus found herself liking this too.
Damn shame it took you this long to find your balls, Naeko. Would’ve been a fine death for me and the Orphans if we were ordered to march against you and yours.
Released from Naeko’s grasp, some of the delegates broke from where they were sitting to help their superiors, while others lingered in a daze. The Paladins returned to Naeko, who was now looming over all the Guilds upon an extended middle finger.
+Alright. Now we’re in business. Now the actual people worth inviting are here, let’s do this shit. I didn’t ask you all to come here today so I could play pass the messenger with you. No. I want to talk to the ones that decide. The ones that matter. I want to tell you that this isn’t a deliberation on who’s fault or who’s guilty. That verdict’s already come down, and we’re all fucking guilty. So, right now, I want to talk about what comes after that. I want to talk about consequence, about what I might do to all of you, and what you can give in return to make me stop.+
