[IC] Huntresses of Hybrasil

[Thanqol]

Tactics means something different when you are the greater.

As the lesser, Tactics is about closing the gap; understanding habits, identifying weak points, undoing your opponent. The onus is on you to change a predetermined destiny of defeat. It means taking risks, gambling everything on a blade that pierces your opponent's heart and reactor core in the same stroke. In some ways it is easier.

But now she has the superior god. She does not need stratagem. She needs only to be aware of stratagem. To watch her flanks and her instincts and be prepared for a plan born of desperation. She can already see the shape of it, with the unregistering of the Makhaira and the disappearance of the Kathresis. Had Akai taken up her refuse once again? It would be an act of love, certainly, but one that would condemn her forever to be Solarel's shadow.

But then, this was what Akai fought for. The chance to beat Solarel at her best. The chance to rise out of that shadow. For love. This was no distracted, half-hearted maiden who would fold as soon as she asked them to. This was the second most pure foe she had ever faced, one who knew how she spoke not, whose entire future was premised on her victory on this battle. She would bring everything she had and fight for her dream.

Alas that her dream depended upon defeating Solarel at her peak. She would watch and miss no detail. She would hold nothing back.

And that included her off field assets. She calls the Boatmen of Styx and asks them to discover what her rival was hiding.

[Call upon a toxic power: 8]

[BlasTech]

Life, like many things, has its series of priorities. Food, shelter, security; the basic wants. The things every person needs. However, once those are a given, a person can be freer to choose how they order and organise their lives.

Speaking of freer ...

A less rigorous schedule was one thing she had never expected to come from the Gala ... but as much as she welcomed it, she found it suspicious. Almira wasn't one to just cave to a few words like that, Mira, herself or even the pinnacle of the Consortium, Adriana. No, if anything, Isabelle had expected her to double-down on her approach ... and the shift in tactics had her worried.

But ... that doesn't mean I have to look a gift horse in the mouth.

There was, after all, plenty to do - and even with the additional time, she'd be hard pressed to do everything before the match.

Hence ... priorities.

Lowest on the list, ironically enough, was mech training. The rationale here was simple - she was already good. Whatever technical ability she could practice, the impact on the match with Kiriala would be marginal at best. Even time spent reviewing the match tapes and files on her would be only worth so much until the moment they both stepped into the arena.

Until she could actually speak to her opponent.

Next on the priorities came R&D work - and that largely boiled down to tinkering with Emberlight and her drones. If the fight with Kirala came down to martial skill, then she'd need all the edges she could get - she'd need something new, something unconventional. And that meant working on the drones - on the visual displacement trick - but also on how far she could push the boundaries on their abilities.

And as for her own abilities ...

That meant lessons with Quar. That meant nights in her lab, or in her room, alone with her drones. Things had been getting ... weird ... for a while now on this front.

--===--

"You sure this thing will work? We made, like, eight of them and only two are functional." she says instead.

"I ... yeah, I think - no, I know they will."

"How can you be sure? I mean, I know you worked on them the longest, so not doubting your skills, but what we're trying to get them to do - the contextual interfaces - it's complex."

"I just know." Isabelle replies, almost shyly. "They'll work."

Isabelle turns the control glove over in her hands. Thinking back to the dance. To that moment when the alarms had gone off and when she and Mira had quickly made their ways back to their respective families. The drones on her dress had immediately taken flight, they'd immediately sought out Asil, guiding her to her target through the suddenly milling crowd.

They'd flocked around them as they'd gathered up Tomas, Rosa and headed for the shuttles. A school of fish, or herd of beasts, on the lookout for predators as they sought safety.

The thing was ... she hadn't told them to do any of that.

Had she?

Something strange was going on - the glove had been good technology, but not that good. And that had been before the twitches, the impulses that had encouraged her to take Quar prisoner. The improvement to her memory.

... the dreams.

-===-

She could now hold a (somewhat basic) conversation with Quar, and what the Zaldarian spoke of was like a whole new world. Spirits, Gods, Geists. The way the Zaldarians thought of their nanotechnology was so different to how she'd expected. It also opened new doors ...

Which took her to what was the highest priority on the list. Trying her best to understand what had happened to her on that moon. What those nanobots the Trak'tho guardian had implanted into her did.

Some of that, was simple science. Examining her blood under microscope in her lab. Admittedly, she was not a biologist, so that avenue was always going to only lead to limited results.

Okay, so - we've learnt that needles still hurt. And blood is meant to be red, right? I should probably be a little worried about those grey flecks.

Which led to the second route. If the Zaldarians thought of these things in terms of spirits or gods, then maybe the way to understanding was through a more ... esoteric approach.

After all, if you needed to talk to the spirits - what better way than to commune?

--===--

The doors are closed, locked against the world (well, almost all the world). Just Isabelle, her drones, and her bedroom.

She kneels in the centre of a cleared space on the carpet. Eyes closed.

Silence.

And ... more silence.

Am I doing this right?

Eventually, she's sure something will happen. Either she'll finally get some insight as to what these vague feelings of unease are about, she'll fall asleep, or she'll get a knock on her door.

Or maybe the door will just unlock. After all - any good priority list must leave a way for it to be overridden; Privileged access. Run as Administrator. Sudo. Programming languages had many ways to name the special type of command that would override anything else that was going on. That could make a computer devote all system resources to a new task.

In her language, it was Asil.

[Tatterdemalion]

"And what if I use that strength against her? If I trap her close and bind her tight?"

"You will still lose," intoned the owl on the branches, whose name was Rojja. "She is the infinity point from which the mountains jut. Your cords will fray; your cords will snap. Cast them into a fire and hope they do not burn! Better that than hoping to bind the Lioness, whose name is Jacinta Niares."

The goddess growled in the back of her throat. Her legs were crossed and the roots of the tree curled around them. Her eyes were closed so that they could be opened. Here, then, was her next challenge: the enemy who cannot be defeated from afar or close enough to count a glory, who cannot be defeated by a pack or by a huntress alone, who cannot be defeated with seduction or with rage. A red serpent twisted in the mud in front of her, and its belly was golden, and its belly was always empty. "Arrows will shatter against her shield. Cords will snap and break. To come in close is to be undone by her arms before she can be touched. To come with the pack is to see them destroyed. Is there no weapon dreamed by the hand of the gods that can bring her low?"

"You are afraid," said the owl on the branches, whose name was Rojja. "You are victory, you are the heart of the huntress, you are the fallen star that cleaves the earth. If you are defeated by the Lioness, whose name is Jacinta Niares, what will you be then? What can you be if you are not victorious?"

"This does not matter. I am going to be victorious."

"Why can you not twist yourself into new shapes? Is this beyond the power of a goddess? There is a lesson before you, if you open your eyes to it." The snake snapped its red and gold jaws into the shadows cast by the tree, and it ate the air. It tore air from air. Holes it chewed into holes.

Beyond, the goddess lifted her eyes. Fireflies danced together on the farthest side of the road which is blue. They swelled into curves, flashing wrists, their lights red and gold, a mouth open in laughter and invitation. The goddess sat there for a time, feeling the chill of the cloak of Night settling and sparking against the warmth of her papaya-flesh, falling into the chewed holes of those lash-fluttering eyes.

"I am the victor that Seven Quetzal has craved," the goddess proclaimed. "I must be the strength that overcomes all disaster and holds her so that she will never fall. She has chosen me instead of becoming the shared spoils of the Red Band, because I am invincible."

But that was not true. Her strength was bound about a lie: that Seven Quetzal had chosen her even in her weakness. Her strength had splintered and shaken to nothing in the Chamber of Night, where her bride was stolen away and tempted by a hot-tongued, strong-armed seductress. And her strength had not availed her when she and Whispered Promise had stormed the Fortress of Mu Ysha.

"Then you will be shattered by the Roar of the Lioness, whose name is Jacinta Niares," said the owl on the branches, whose name was Rojja. "It will shiver you into seventy-nine pieces. Seven Quetzal will be the bride of Mu Ysha, and her throne will be within a palace built upon a swamp. How can you fight a Roar? It is impossible. And yet she will not be broken by it; she will bend where you will break. You know how well her bending is; how she may be borne to the ground, and yet rise again."

The goddess considered this for a time, and then asked, "What is the way to victory?"

"The way to victory is through defeat. The way to victory is through shedding your skin. The way to victory is through love, and love only. The way to victory is to return to the beginning."

---

When she enters the idol, she stops. She nearly walks back out. She nearly starts crying again.

"Jade?" Her voice is small, and thick, and faltering, because she hasn't been here in months.

The sunlight on the wooden floor is dappled, falling over the reclining couch. There are books stacked by the nook up in the corner. To her right, the kitchen stretches down its little hall. The sound of Grass.tone crooning comes over the ceiling speakers. Outside, in the distance, the trains sing by.

And in the kitchen, Jade, washing dishes. It's a moment before she glances up, looks over her shoulder, and that's got to be deliberate but it's a weird deliberate from the goddess. She taps the water off, dries her hands off on her four-colored apron, and nervously comes into the living room, takes a seat on the sitting couch, puts her hands in her lap like Dolly does. (She's not wearing the mask. Underneath, her face is a lot like, like that one statue of Ixel Many-Faced in the capitol, the one where she accepts Adoration Moon as her bride. When she parts her lips, the fangs are noticeable.)

"Sit with me?"

Slowly, as if drifting through a dream, Dolly takes a seat next to her... her Jade. Hands in her own lap, too. The goddess looks so nervous, so... so not herself.

"...I can't beat Jacinta Niares," Jade admits in a tiny, defeated voice. "I thought this would be an effortless victory road. I thought that I was unique and that this would be the story of how I made the entire universe watch me win and then I could show all of them you and they'd understand why. I wanted to make you parade down the red carpet knowing you weren't really wearing anything, and, because, you'd be so embarrassed and excited and..."

Dala Hunters pulls her girlfriend in and holds her there, holds her close, buries her face in Jade's hair and breathes in the faint attempt at scent. And Jade lets herself be held, awkwardly, all her artifice falling apart, leaving... just Jade.

"I don't want to lose. Not to the Red Band. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to."

"But if I'm not strong enough to win, I'm not going to be strong enough when Valynia comes back to take you back--"

"You're not going to lose me. And you're not going to lose. You're, you're you. You're brave and you're magic and you are trying to give everyone the miracle they want. And my miracle is just that you love me."

"...I don't know what we're going to do. I meditated on it. I went to the underworld to try to find an answer. And it's just: you lose forever. The only way you win is by losing. And I don't want to run away and be the coward goddess forever and turn you into a joke, but when she wins, they'll know I'm not strong enough to protect you. As if they didn't know it already."

Dolly rubs her goddess's shoulder, and stares outside at the world her... her wife conjured up for her. Her artist. Her owner. Her adorer. And, yes, sometimes-- a lot of the time-- it's felt like they're barely getting by, only winning because Jade is clever and sexy and disarms pilots more than she defeats their mecha, and once she even got knocked out, and--

"I think I have an idea," she says, stiffening, perking up. "I... Jade, I looked over her dossier, too, and she's a titan, but even though we have a lance you always win by getting in close, right? What if we went all in on ion this match? We'd have to do a lot of last-minute fits, and we'd look unarmed, but maybe we could... I mean... if we tricked her into coming up close..."

Jade leans forward, hands cupped under her chin, elbows on her knees, like an ordinary girl. "That would knock out a lot of her systems. But we'd have to get in close in the first place. She's Hybrasilian, we can't count on the cloak working for us. She's probably watched the fight against Ada Smith, after all."

"We need to talk to her about the Angela match, by the way. We can't... take sides in that one. We just need to be there for whoever loses."

"...I do have a side, though. I want Angela Victoria Miera Antonius to win."

"But I don't want Ada Smith to feel betrayed. She's part of our flock, too. An off-to-the-side part, but she's our ally. And we haven't... proposed to Angela yet. So."

"...as my bride wishes," Jade says, slow, small, vulnerable. Flick of the eyes up towards Dolly. This is a room where she can do that. "...do you want to propose?"

Dolly flushes. Looks down at her feet. "I. I think. She's. Well. And you'd be glorified by the Terenian joining the harem, and--"

Jade puts her hand on Dolly's glove. Turns to look her bride in the eye. Does the little Jade smirk. "I think she's hot, too. And she stands up for you when I fuck up."

"...but what do we have to offer her?"

"You?"

"Not just that! I, we don't know what she really wants. Why she's here. If she just enjoyed the night together or if she wants to be like me and..." Dolly rubs her hand against her neck. There's a moment of wordless conversation with their eyes and smiles, and then she's wearing her collar and the tip of her tail is wiggling happily. "...I don't know if many people do want this like I do. Maybe Ksharta?"

"Ksharta needs time to figure out what she needs. I'd be happy if she picked this, though. It's... mrrrr~"

"To be trusted like that?"

"Mmhm."

"...trust. I don't think we can trick them into trusting us. I thought about it. You know, if I let Jacinta know before the match that I'd override your control so that she could capture us both, as long as she didn't shoot up the idol, but she'd ask Valynia, wouldn't she? And Valynia would wonder why I didn't ask her. And..." Her ears droop. "I don't want to talk to her. Or. I do want to talk to her. But it'd be a bad idea. Either I'd get mad at her for not apologizing to you, or she'd talk her way into my head rather than the other way around, and neither way gets us access to Jacinta. So. We shouldn't. I shouldn't."

"Thank you," Jade murmurs.

"So we still lose."

"If I had to pick between losing to Whispered Promise and Jacinta Niares," Jade says, like the words are being dragged out of her by a hook, "I would lose to Whispered Promise. She will not steal you. Just my glory. And I can live without my glory." In the same way that somebody can live without a lot of things, Dolly thinks, and it makes her heart plummet. "But I can't lose to Jacinta. But I'm going to."

This would be so much easier if she hadn't had a fight with Valynia. If she could fill her guilty daydreams with thoughts of being pulled out of the idol to bow at Jacinta's feet. Of Jade becoming a pirate goddess, of becoming the objectified mascot of the Red Band all wrapped up in red scarves, of being painted on the side of fighter cockpits, of Jade and Valynia becoming sisters in arms united by their breathlessly flustered slave-bride, if this could somehow be a good end for everybody. But neither Jade or Valynia would accept second place, and if there's anyone she could trust with those dreams, could trust to actually make it a game and return her at the end safe and sound, it would be... well, Angela.

"We can't mine the battlefield beforehand," she says, instead. "We can't prep camouflage. We can't overwhelm her with jackals. We can't--"

"Jackals," Jade interrupts. "Three-part trap. It'd be complex-- incredibly complex-- but... we could fool her with holograms. My holograms. Of the idol. One to draw her in with a prize, one to ambush her, and that gives our cloak an opening. Around the jackals, emitted by them. Let her fight shadows and then we're there to blow her systems out. More tricks, because I can't win a straight fight, but..."

She reaches out. Takes her wife's hand. Squeezes.

"But a win is a win," Dolly says, and pulls her wife closer. "And--"

And that's when Jade shuts her bride up with a kiss.

[Phoe]

She has twenty screens lit up at every angle around the desk she's commandeered from Slate. Insufficient information density, but she's out of room. Sheets of numbers, sprawling articles, work orders for Mayze Szerpaws, correspondences with business associates both above the table and below it, a dossier on every single pilot still remaining in the competition, and several smaller bios for pilots who have been eliminated but have known connections to those still here. On her largest screen, a simulated cockpit: a crude wireframe representation, but from the way her fingers are moving on the various touchpads and keyboards she's got in front of her it's no less difficult to handle than the actual Gods-Smiting Whip.

And finally, on a smaller screen right next to it, footage from the party. The Aeteline, lifting off over the gawking faces of a pair of Empresses and their patchwork retinue. Solarel, restored. Solarel, reverted. Solarel, damned.

"Boss?"

Mirror only 'pilots' in spurts. Her eyes dart from screen to screen, but rather than trying to take them all in at once (impossible, as some are behind her no matter which way she's facing) each one captures her entire attention for minutes at a time. She reaches for a glass that only barely fits on the desk and lifts it all the way to her lips before she notices it is empty. Her tongue clicks in frustration, but she puts it down just where it was, and resumes work.

"Boss."

So much of this was not like in the animes (even the terribly boring ones) that it was really throwing her for a loop. Her fingers brush the fur on her arms out of alignment and then smooth it all back down on a cycle whenever they're not engaged in active piloting simulation. Vulnerability. Doubt. Perhaps she doesn't understand this world well enough to slaughter someone in it after all. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. Refocused. But when she opens her eyes, half of her monitors have been shut off. She is staring into the bloodshot and irate eyes of Selin Makers.

"Mira Fishers! Will at least explain what you're up to in here? I have work to do, you know."

"Studying finance."

"Stud... what?"

"I need to understand the principles of Terenian Economics if I'm going to turn my threats into proper promises. There is time now, so I am studying."

"This is... about that speech you made at the party? Mira, no one expects you to move on that until after the tournament. You know that, right? No one expects you to move on it at all. They'll just say you were drunk. And you pretty much were; you got right up in that scary woman's [Nectar] dress."

"Untrue. Isabelle Lozano does. And Almira Lozano does as well. She will already be plotting something, so I must be ahead of her. Rest assured, the first nineteen moves of my opening gambit have already been made."

"Boss you're gonna hurt yourself, you literally do not have time for this if you're gonna--"

"Shh." Mirror puts a claw on Slate's lip, "This is all for the sake of winning the tournament. I am only pushing myself as far as is required. This much really is quite simple when you approach it from the perspective of destroying or relocating value without aim for acquiring it yourself. I wonder why there are so few example texts?"

Claw or not, Slate's face tightens into a frown. She steps away and begins pacing, the way that she does when agitated.

"Mirror... Boss. Mira, please. Please. Please! You are so close to the stars right now I can hardly hear you anymore. I'm begging you, put that stuff down for a minute and talk to me. Talk. For real."

One by one the remaining monitors flicker off, all except for her piloting program and the gala footage. Slate immediately cringes and arches her back, but the direct stare of her partner keeps her from screaming loud enough to reach the next seven hangars. Mirror tries and fails for the second time to drink from her empty, perspiring glass.

"Destroying the Lozano Matriarch will take time. Beyond the scope of our stay here, I am already aware. But a noteworthy blow must be struck now, nevertheless. Even if it compromises me. Even if it costs more than we can afford."

Slate blinks three times. Too fast to show comfort or acceptance of the thought; just a simple deference. Keep talking, Boss.

"Almira Lozano's attention and wrath must be pulled off of Isabelle Lozano in a very narrow timeframe. In this way we secure the loyalty of Isabelle Lozano whom I have named the Distant Gate. And it is through that gate that the tournament shall be won. Through her cooperation, and yours. And Matty's, Kiriala's, and in short order the goddess Smokeless Jade Fires'. More names would be preferable, but I am running out of, how do they call it, capital? The Final Opponent will require at least this many swords to slay."

"And... by the final opponent you mean?"

"Solarel, of course. It will be her. And I. In the finals. Or this entire endeavor was pointless."

"Poin... point... p-point! Pointless! Pointless, she says! Mira Love-spotted Fishers you... you whisker tweaked, small headed, sunshine chasing... ass!"

Slate has climbed up onto a couch. She stays upright even as she perches on the back of it, and there are so many tears in her eyes they look exactly as liquid as Mirror's own.

"What about the promises you made me? What about our dreams? Our wish!? When I agreed to help you build this Nine Drive System you promised me that the prize at the end of the road was gonna be for both of us! And you did not mean the Combat Slut! You always do this! With your schemes and your side objectives and you never explain, not once do you ever try to let me in, do you even-- I swear to! I! You are gonna make me... no. No, no, no, no, Mira, no! Is this... tell me you're not using that?!"

"...I am."

"Goddess in a tree, Mira! We don't know what'll happen if we do that! We never tested it, we... we couldn't!"

"She has the Aetiline, Selin. What choice do I have?"

"She... what?"

"If I do not defeat her here, Selin. We will not get our wish. And if I cannot do it correctly, even if I did we would be miserable. You and I. It would fall apart like ash under our feet."

"'But,' you'll say, 'if I do this correctly then even if I don't take the tournament we will still blah blah blah blah blah.' Am I about right?"

Mirror stares at her empty cup for a long, awkward silence. All indications from her twitchy arm movements is that even watching it be empty hasn't rid her of the impulse to try and drink from it.

"I just wish you understood. At all. What it felt like playing second best to somebody you can't ever win against. Because every move you make just pushes them closer and closer to getting everything that you want. I wish you knew how much it hurt to love someone with your entire heart when she can't give you the same."

How long does the movement take? A second? Half? Does time exist at all? What were the point of those intervening frames when none of them involved two cats hugging? Slate sobs into Mirror's shoulder, awkwardly and jaggedly purring through it while Mirror's claws trace her spine in patterns of relaxation.

"If. I told you. I would give up Solarel. To be with you."

"I'd know you were l-lying."

"But. If I. Loved you. Enough to cut it off. To. Simplify my dream. Then--"

"I'd leave. Y-y-you wouldn't be my Boss. That ain't... who I signed on with."

They find themselves sitting. Every monitor switched off at last. No sound but breathing and hiccups and a pair of heartbeats. Minutes chasing hours. Matches creeping closer, windows creaking shut.

"You are. Impossible. To please."

"Nah, I'm very easy. You succeed. And you stay with me. You stay, Boss. I'll do all of Combat Slut's maintenance and upgrade work too, but the both of you come home. And you tell me every night how much I matter. That's what this costs. You got enough coins left to play your last card still?"

"That's... not how the game w--"

A pillow in her face, like the hammer of Grandmother Fire who gifted the first spears and lifted Hyrbasil up above the level of the Hunted. Mirror shrieks and spits in a profoundly undignified, uncoordinated, and uncool manner. She has nothing to shield herself but this pathetic display. It does not work. She hits the floor.

"No. Of course. I understand, Selin. I cannot. Do anything. Without you. You take point on the rest of this. Complete the plan as seems best to you, and I will come home. And tell you what is true. I should. Get to my 'proper' work by now, anyway."

"...At least match commentary will be fun. Right? You pick a partner yet?"

"Are you joking?" Mirror sniffs, "Hardly. My beloved seniors may choose for themselves whom they'd like with them in the 'Booth' as it were. And if someone should choose me I will be more than happy to assist."

"What if they don't? What if they expect you to take the initiative and you get left out entirely?"

"Then I catch up on my napping. Aren't you always yelling at me to rest more?"

[Anarion]

Solarel

You’re set up to face Akaithon not in the darkness of space, but in a tight arena within the planet. There’s room to fly, but there’s a reinforced dome ceiling that even the Aeteline would need focused effort to destroy. The walls are light tan stone sloping outward and the floor is flat in the center and then curve up in steps so that it’s like fighting at the base of a great amphitheater. Akaithon has the lance that you wielded in your last match. But something is different about it…

A short while earlier
…It was Charon himself who took your call. Dressed now in a navy blue suit that contrasted his cybernetic implants with their red glow. You were somewhat distracted at the party, and of course now you were seeing him through the viewing instruments of the Aeteline, but even so, there was a chance to focus on him and it was an odd sight. The cybernetics ran their own AI, but to a Zaldarian it would be quite a hard one to place in the hierarchy of spirits. It’s subservient to and interacting with Charon’s own brain, but he’s chosen to allow it to run more freely than most AI assistants on personal equipment would run. It’s actually most comparable to the Kathresis or to Smokeless Jade Fires, if you’ve been following her activity. Essentially, this man is running two functional brains on the same overall physical platform, and in a much smaller space than the sort of gods you’re used to.

He was all business when he took your call. “Solarel, my dear! We haven’t met properly, but you’ve been a fine associate already, well worth the upfront investment!” His smile was genuine, and when he heard your request about Akaithon, he was quick to check references, quick enough to even stay on the line with you as he made a few inquiries on his own terminal and then put one of his dock workers on speaker for both of you to hear.

“…I was working with the Kathresis as ordered. What I heard was that after the theft, Akaithon piloted it out of the gala. She came to us first, the Kathresis had information on its own dock, and the Zaldarian cult immediately followed it to a new berth in a different dock that Akaithon had assigned. A few of us went as well, but weren’t allowed in the new dock, since we didn’t have the same permissions and the deal was with Solarel and not the empress of Zaldaria. That’s what they said, and it meant we couldn’t come in. But I saw some of the work they were doing. It was…mmm I dunno how to say it, Akai seemed a bit how Solarel seemed before. I think being hooked direct into the Kathresis ain’t good for you. But anyway, they were setting up the lance that had been used before, but to link with the Kathresis core somehow. I could tell based on the lines they were using. I think it might work like how that freeze pistol worked. One touch of that lance and anything would go to nearly absolute zero. Probably make it shear right off of any other material from the sudden change in molecular motion if I had to guess.”

And there you have it. Charon smiled with the satisfaction of immediate information. Of course, since you still have your same dock and his crew just lost their access to the Kathresis from your last deal, you’ll be giving them access to the Aeteline now. It’s only fair after all.

***

Isabelle

You’re deploying in the open plains. This is similar to Kiriala’s last match with Mirror: an open, grassy field full of tall brush but little cover big enough to fully obscure you or the Ginger Tiger. Perhaps the match organizers liked how that fight went and thought that for the semifinals, seeing Kiriala in a similar environment against a different opponent would be illustrative. When she fought Mirror, she used the ground to her advantage, since it offered additional maneuvering angles compared to relying strictly on midair thrusters.

Though, there’s a question how much of all this you really studied, isn’t there? After all, a lot of your prep went into yourself. The Zaldarian nanobots change how you see the world. There are spirits of some sort or another in everything. Mostly little heists, automated functions. But to the Zaldarians, these are existing things, animated and acting, even if they have only a single function such as opening a door or operating a memory weave. Having the nanobots offers you a new perspective on these things. They’re not nearly strong enough in just your body to shut down an opposing mecha or anything that grand, and indeed even things like tapping in facilities security were only possible in the Trak’tho facility because they were already keyed to it and had the right passwords and access levels. But what you do have is the ability to see these things in a new light. That vision is something you never had before and it might open new doors of combined Terenian and Zaldarian (and Trak’tho!) engineering principles. You’ve had just enough time to scratch the surface there.

And of course, there’s the other sort of personal time. Asil has taken advantage of this opportunity to actually get you somewhat on the regular without causing problems. She hasn’t had to sneak around as much. And what you have found is that she’s a hungry, but gentle lover. She wants, always. She wants kisses. She wants your touch. On her neck, on her chest, on her ears, her cheeks, wherever she directs. And she wants to touch you and make you feel her. But she’s got the sense that you don’t want her to be too aggressive. That you’re a little bit like a wild cat and you might start if there are too many sudden movements. So she works gently to find the right spots, goes carefully over you, probes, asks questions and then asks them again, always listening, seeing how your answers change over time until she finds the right ways to touch you just so.

And this too is important match preparation because this may be one of the rare times you come into a bout not totally stressed out of your mind.

What sort of greeting does that lead to?

***

Dolly and Jade

You are deployed amidst running water. A mountain lake. Broad and deep, surrounded by alpine trees and snow-capped peaks. Clear weather, cool and crisp, a handful of clouds. In another time, this would be an idyllic vacation spot. Incredible as a show-piece of what the Akar Arena is capable of producing.

Jacinta deploys visibly across the lake. She’s not known for using a cloak, though she has one if you lose sight of her. But she’s already training cannons on you, setting up a firing solution to end the fight before it’s even begun.

She’s got an open comm line immediately as well. “How unlucky for you, goddess. Here, I am the mistress of all fires and your deployment was directly in my sights.”

She’s not waiting to fire while she banters either, autocannons are starting up already, and so are the first lasers, which she can fire with abandon without even worrying about ammo unless you force her to reallocate her power to defense.

This is, without a doubt, a trap for you. Though of whose devise exactly, it is not clear. There are many suspects including random chance among them. Perhaps it’s simply bad luck that you deployed at Jacinta’s best range with a clear firing arc. Or perhaps this is how Jacinta Niares likes to play it. Her freedom is that the rules and laws of others don’t apply to her, after all.

No matter which way you cut it though, you’ve got to claw yourself out of this hole before it’s too late.

***

Angela

This is a bad matchup for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. No amount of frustration or pride will help you. The anger that you often feel at being a backwater branch of the second most powerful family in all of TC space doesn’t matter one tiny bit when it comes to the fact that you’re just not up to specs. It’s doubly infuriating because Ada Smith is an “independent free trader” and so her access to superior technology including from the Hybrasilians, rankles with you and your limited access.

And that’s the thing, you have limited access. You can get any weapons you need, but Ada isn’t beatable with better weapons, not even a surprise ion burst. She knows those tricks, she wrote the book on those tricks, and has given herself the speed and strength to work around that. It’s an outclass of mind as much as it is of technology.

She’s wary and she’s motivated and god in another context that would be so goddamn hot. It’s one of the things you like about your relationship with Dolly and Jade. You get to be their villain, to make them think about you all the time, even when you’re not there. To loom large in their life, for both fear and revenge. If that means sometimes you have to accept a little humiliation, that just gives you cause for further strikes and them cause for renewed attention, does it not? That makes you smile to consider. The games they play are something special and you’re glad to have found them. They help you think more creatively too. Which is why you’ve done nothing special for Smith at all. Let her see nothing and thus expect everything. If she looks for you at every corner, then when you strike her in the face, you might just land a blow. At least, that’s the hope. You still have to worry that even without seeing it coming, she’ll have the reaction speed to block it anyway.

***

Mirror

It is Maelia who picked you as a partner. Apparently she was really excited to co-cast with another Hybrasilian. Something about understanding each other’s cues better. When she joins you, she’s wearing a fisher cat station suit in a light yellow, a far cry from the fancy dresses of the ball and instead something comfortable and easy for her. She has a lens in one eye, feeding her information, giving her one regular golden eye and one that’s glowing with a blue-green tint from the text being fed to it. Her shaggy mane is tied back in a neat bun that won’t get in the way of someone examining equipment. She is known for having lived long stretches of her life in border space stations (one of the things that led to her getting so good as a mecha pilot).

“I picked the match with Dolly and Jacinta for us to commentate, I hope that’s okay. I uh, figured the match being all Hybrasilian would get everyone back home kind of excited. Plus, Jacinta comes from basically the opposite end of the galaxy from me, and I’m really hoping to see some new tech. I’ve studied up a ton on her weaponry and its balance, but the Roar’s got something special up its sleeve and I think Dolly can at least get her to use it!”

She blinks, looks a little bashful at already having gotten into the tech side of things. “How about you, Mira, any particular standouts you’re looking for here? I hope I didn’t presume too much.”

[Thanqol]

She loved the Kathresis - as she loved the Bezorel. She loved it enough to internalize its weaknesses, which were vast.

She felt pity, the pity of a god burning through the heart of the Aeteline. Akaithon, darling - you chased her shadow still. Just like you threw aside your lance to take up her discarded greatsword, now you threw aside your God to live inside her cast-off cocoon. Much of Kathresis' power had come from the fact that it was unexpected, and now it was being wielded against the only person who knew exactly what to expect from it.

The problem with a machine like the Kathresis was that if everything worked out you looked like a genius. If things went even slightly wrong you looked like a fool.

She has changed the Aeteline not at all. She walks into the arena with the vicious aura of normality hanging over her. Where was the trick? Where was the blade? Where was the heart?

She showed nothing. Her stance gave no information, hesitation or weakness. She was the mountain and it was Akai's to walk her. Climb if you can.

[BlasTech]

Everything is different about this - so many changes, so many firsts.

First time with Asil. First time with someone who actually cared about her. Enough to respect the bundle of neurosis that made up her personality and adapt. To put her needs ahead of theirs. To see her boundaries and not just plough over them in pursuit of something that they wanted from her.

First time seeing the spirit world. Even here, in the arena, there are geists that dot the landscape - Look! There's one whose job is manage the leaves on a tree. And there's one measuring the flow of the river! One more that is literally watching grass grow. And that's not even getting into the six over there who only exist to broadcast various unintelligible noises (maybe they're saying something in Zaldarian?). It's a whole new world with plenty to explore. Best of all, it's right here; no need for expeditions or equipment!

First time, also, entering an arena with someone she's actually met on the other side - not just a picture she's read about and studied. Although their discussion at the Gala had been brief - it felt different to be facing off against someone who had watched her dance. Who had joined in a discussion about theology. Who was family to someone she ... well, maybe friend was too strong a word - but someone she'd certainly had a connection with.

As for what greeting this all led to?

"Hey Kiriala!" calls Isabelle, taking a moment to wave to her opponent. "Glad you all made it off the Crystal station safely. How's Mira doing?"

First time for that, too, I guess.

It's amazing what changes can be wrought in a short time.

[Tatterdemalion]

Ten thousand arrows tipped with fire hiss through the air, suspended in the goddess's awareness, each one threatening to overwhelm her armor, to crack her open and leave her captive heart vulnerable. Another impossible challenge offered by Mu Ysha, a test of her divinity. How dare you claim this position, how dare you claim your place, being so new, so selfish, so suspect? How dare you claim this temple bride is the equal of our champions, Smokeless Jade Fires? How dare you challenge us for our prizes?

Dolly's hands curl in time with hers. Every sensation flowing through her nerves is shared with the goddess. There is determination to mirror hers, a heart beating fast and furious and yearning, yearning, the need that the goddess had cultivated and sharpened to a point. The fire that she had stoked.

The trap is inside out. All she needs to do is prove it.

Together, they fall to their knees. Together, they let fire flow through their arm, straight from Jade's roaring heart. And at the shortest range possible, they hit their target dead on.

The lake explodes as Jade vents power straight through her limb thrusters, raw concussive force that makes her glad she can barely clench her jaw. She feels the jackals peel off, like weights dropping from her torso, and as soon as Jade tugs at her leash she's already up. This plan depended on misdirection and cunning, on being able to fake their way in beneath that guard to deliver a kiss (one with a generator that is still respooling, Jade's ragged breath loud in her ears).

Whether or not Jacinta steps back from the white-frothed half-a-lake about to wash over her, she's about to be facing down three Jades at once, all three doing their best to keep Jacinta guessing which one's real and which one's the projection. The original plan was to close in as fast as possible, but now? Now it's time to improvise.

At least they already have a reputation for being incredibly fluid and hard to hit. Jade's stretched herself across three instances, so it's up to Dolly to do exactly what she says, just as obedient and responsive as Jade's jackals, long enough. They just need long enough. Jade's almost roaring now, and the generator drawing off their star heart feels like it's her heart.

[Dolly and Jade roll with Harmony to Defy Disaster and manage a 14.]

---

Ai!

That two-timing goddess just had to get her taunting in, didn't she? Offering Smith her "personal favor" for the fight, her blessing as a goddess, and even making a show of putting a bet against her? She might as well be like Dolly with that smug goddess pulling her on strings, and it's as transparent as glass that Jade thinks she's really encouraging her!

And the worst part is that it's working. There's even more fire in Angela's gut as she deploys, the burning urge to be able to walk up to Dolly after the match and rub it in Jade's face that she won, so there, what are you thinking of that, and how do you mean to make even and make up for this insult, little Dolly? How much is her ransom, hey?

"Come on," she jabs over the comms, and if there's an echo of how she challenged Solarel, well, maybe it'll be different this time with no trick. She's only fighting this battle today-- no more, no less. "Bring it on, Unseen Goose! Or did that goddess tame you?"

[Phoe]

It takes a great deal of effort to look this disorganized. She has arrived mere seconds before the agreed upon time. Wearing her pilot's bodysuit, unzipped to vent heat in the exact same way as it had been when she'd first met Dolly in that bar not so very long ago. Fur matted with effort sweat, no attempt at application of makeup or fur paint or even basic spot touch ups. Her cascading silver hair is disheveled and frayed to the point of ruination - as if she'd run herself to death in a ponytail and then pulled it free at the last moment in a desperate attempt to appear somehow more 'professional' and instantly dooming her entire look.

She has several of the tablets she pilfered from Slate's desk wrapped in a bundle in her arms, and she is winded past the point of speech. Every piece of this look carefully considered, reached for, and worked toward with the deft hand of a fashion designer. She'd even run the length of the hallway outside the broadcast booth four times before entering just to wear herself down enough to sell herself as the overworked and under-prepared rookie caught squeezing too much training time in when she didn't even have a match to get ready for. Inadequate. Exhausted, so much that even her modified eyes have dulled and stilled, to the extent that they still can. Hunched and ruining the natural beauty of her body, clutching at useless and outdated pieces of tech, opening her mouth in awe at the datafeed Maelia is wearing in her eye.

She collapses into a seat and sits there in silence, making no sound or movement except to breathe with steadily increasing stillness. Staring only at the floor.

"I... wanted," she pants, "T-to. To. To... follow. Every match... if I, I could. I..."

She sets her handful of screens down and starts activating them, pushing them this way and that until she's found an organizational structure for them she seems to like, though she frequently changes her mind. She looks up and tries to smile, but all she manages is to raise her whiskers in a yawn.

"M-my eyes. Can't tolerate information processing. In the style... style you're dem, demo. Demonstrate. Ing. Demonstrating. Using, I, I mean. So I. But. Yes. No. That is fine. What you have... chosen. Presumed. Is fine. I have... interest in those two. Beyond the curiosity of, of seeing my next. Opponent. And I. Yes. Hybrasil..."

Her eyes leave the floor, only to get stuck on the ceiling for a moment. It takes concerted effort for her to move her head and straighten her posture to the point where she is simply looking at Maelia face to face. The act almost looks to be causing her pain. Flustered. Starstruck. Submissive. Embarrassed.

"The Children of Hybrasil, I mean. We are as a... as a species. A very insular lot. The chance for two cat pilots. Discussing two more... Will generate a lot of, of interesting. I think. It's a good. Opportunity to. Give something. To home. I. Um. Agree with your... assessment. Jacinta Niares is hiding something. Likely spectacular. And she will need it. To have any chance against the goddess, Smokeless Jade Fires. To say nothing. Of her priestess."

[Anarion]

Solarel

Akaithon is a puzzle solver and a fine pilot. In this light, her attack approach is the “correct” solution to the Aeteline, to the extent such a solution exists. She has a power core in the Kathresis to match yours, and a light frame that can emphasize speed and shielding. If the pilot is adequately quick, adequately precise, and adequately in tune with the machine, they can switch power over to the attacks just as they connect, defeating even the defenses of the Aeteline. It demands intense focus, precision control, and split-second reflexes. But then, that’s the best possible solution that Akai could offer you: she has made herself the point of failure in her attempt to beat the Aeteline.

She has, also, though she rides in your shadow, chosen a different approach to this fight than the last. “Sol, I think you’re up to speaking on more than one level” she says, making any attempt an approach, looks for your response, and then cuts her speed and changes her angle. “And I want you to hear why I’m in this machine. I was only going to pilot it back from the crystal hangar originally, but once I was tied into it, it spoke to me. It spoke of you and the mistake we both made. The Aeteline is evil, Sol. It was made broken, the fires it channels ruin things, break things. It breaks the world. The Kathresis begged me to bring it down and it showed me how it could be done. I know…I know you won’t be able to see that from within it, I can only imagine the rush of piloting it. Which is why I’m going to have to show you in the only language you really speak.”

Her lance is coming, a single blow could be a deadly strike nod her speed is a match for the Aeteline. What do you do?

***

Isabelle

“Oh wow, you’re really upbeat compared to the gala!” You can hear Kiriala’s smile as she answers you. “Must have been a good prep week! Whispered Promise is fine, I think. She’s been doing some really intense stuff to prep for her next matches and uh…some other stuff, I think. She told me she’s working on her promise to you, too. We’ve all been trying to help, she’s got a lot of ideas and doesn’t always think about how to share that with other people, you know?”

Similar to her prior match with Mirror, Kiriala isn’t going for anything underhanded. She’s not the type to try and cut your head off in the middle of a casual conversation and she’s perfectly fine taking the match at her own pace. She keeps to the ground as well. The wide space offers free room to maneuver and she’s taking a stance that says she’s ready to react to you if you get started, but at the same time she’s not going to be the one to make the first move before you’re both ready. This isn’t naivete, it’s just an approach to fighting that she likes. The patient hunter.

“Oh but don’t think you can go prying any info out of me. First off, I wouldn’t give you details during a match where anyone who wants can hear and second I don’t know them anyway!” You can absolutely hear her sticking her tongue out at you in the way she ended that sentence.

“So, what’s got you all upbeat? I hope it’s our help? Give me some clues though. I’m not a good enough detective even among Hybrasilians to hear your tone of voice and distinguish whether you’ve got the good exercise glow, or the good food glow, or the good sex glow, so help me out here!”

[There’s a generic string XP in it for you if you open up to Kiriala to start the fight]

***

Dolly and Jade

The water bursts around you like a thousand spears thrusting in formation. Laser blasts from Jacinta strike the foam and burst into steam, sizzling with heat. She lets out a primal roar all her own, deep and low that rumbles through her whole body. A challenge and a war cry all in one.

As she does, the Roar, crazy as it sounds, is doing its best to strike all three targets simultaneously, splitting its cannon fire among auto cannons and lasers to avoid presenting any completely open front. At the same time though, the split means that no front is completely impassible. Instead, you’ve got a difficult but manageable bullet hell Fromm each approach.

And here, you can see a piece of Jacinta Niares as a character. She’s not willing to leave herself open. The Roar is full of surprises still, don’t let your guard down, but you have this insight that the way she reacts is that she’s just not willing not leave any opening in any direction. [Take a string on Jacinta]

She’s also rising, moving herself above the level of the water and steam, but you’ve created this much opportunity: until she gets clear and can take in the various jackals you’ve unleashed, you have the situation in hand and a chance to act.

Angela

“Please, I saw you at the party, you’re hardly one to talk” comes the chuckling response over the Comms. And Ada does indeed launch her attack, wasting no time in closing the distance to her preferred fighting range. She’s careful about it though, damn her. She uses every bit of natural cover to close and avoid shots, and she’s got a reserve booster to dodge suddenly if you pull out a secret weapon. It’s a little like being smothered, but instead of in a hug, it’s in an inescapable net as she comes at you and you’re forced back.

“I told Jade the same thing I’ll tell you now though. I’m about providing for my family, tournament or no. And you, backwater Terenian daughter, does that mean anything to you? Do you understand how I might feel? The way your people forget about you ring any bells, huh? Win, lose, or draw, I’m open to anyone who wants to work together.”

And therein lies her fire. The pride of being the provider, the pride of protecting.

You’ve got to come up with something before you’re forced back into the forest or the rocks and have nowhere left to cede ground. It’s lucky that the Barn Owl is a workhorse model and can take a lot of glancing blows without losing any core functionality.

***

Mirror

“Oh, uh, gosh, wow” Maelia says, trying not to look too closely at all the different ways you’re disheveled. She doesn’t want to look like she’s judging, but she also doesn’t want to look away because that would be embarrassing for both of you, so she’s settled on looking at you, but kind of awkwardly past you without looking at anything in particular and hoping that works for everybody.

“I mean, wow, um…who knew my co-caster was such a dedicated go-getter? I mean, a lot of people probably did if they watched your matches because that mecha of yours is something else and you must have trained just as hard to pilot it without passing out from the feeling of cutting off your own arms, right?” She laughs, nervously.

“Well, um, anyway, let’s get on air. The match is already starting.” She hits a button and a light goes on. You’re on a slight broadcast delay, but current with the monitors and there’s Dolly and Jade blasting above the lake with several duplicates against the raining firepower of the Roar.

“So, I’ve got a um, new caster with me today, and we’re going to have to jump right into it because Smokeless Jade Fires and her pilot Dala Hunters looked like they drew the short straw but instead of the match ending before it started, they’ve made a brilliant move and shifted all their power to a terrain and multi-unit simultaneous distraction! The use of the water to absorb laser fire in particular is inspired. As a medium it will both dissipate heat (folks at home, did you know that water has one of the highest specific—heat absorption ratios of any commonly found substance?) and deflect the blasts from their intended target. Jacinta isn’t letting up though and she refuses to offer a clear approach vector! Mira, what do you make of this fight?”

[Thanqol]

... Evil?

The Aeteline has never spoken to her. Never encouraged her. Never... changed her, not like the Kathresis. The Kathresis was cold. She could feel its coldness soaking into her bones. It had a history. A people. An agenda. The Aeteline had none of that.

The Aeteline never spoke.

On the contrary it felt... empty, here. Like the part of the God that was supposed to be alive had never been born. There was so much space here, so much hot empty void that she needed to stretch herself to cover it. A protogalaxy, a nebula of unformed heat and dust and gravity. That's why it was the perfect machine. It had no will of its own. It made it's will out of its owner's will. No filter between the pilot and perfect synchronization. There was no partnership and there didn't need to be. It would do anything she wanted. She just had to be everything it was.

Starting with silence.

... Where in the Aeteline were the words to speak? She had never cause to reach for them before. Never fought someone who was not an Outsider. But as it spoke not to her it would speak not to everyone else. What purpose would words serve? As Akaithon said, she only spoke one language. She had no other choice.

And here was her answer: small arms fire. The Kathresis was a fragile machine, stealth plating easily scratched, shallow armour easily chipped and broken. Point defense machine guns, ordinarily used to intercept missile swarms, activate and spray the area around the Kathresis with sheer volume of fire. As the flak guns purr she stands with shield ready, prepared entirely to dodge and withdraw while making no attempt at counterattack.

Akaithon, did you never realize the utility of hitscan weaponry? You wore a titan to whom these impacts would be less than a fleabite. Now you are a mouse and the fleas will eat you alive.

This was not even something she had needed to prepare especially for the Kathresis. The Aeteline simply had every tool she could possibly need already. Did the Kathresis really show you how to defeat her, Akaithon? She is worried it may have lied to you. After all, how could it suggest strategy when it was missing its Tactics?

[Phoe]

"Contest," Mirror shrugs as she watches the feed, "Of wills."

Silence, just long enough to be awkward. She fills it worrying at her hair with a quiet desperation, as if her ability to offer commentary relied on not looking like an overworked slob even though nobody other than Maelia was actually watching her. Delay. Delay. Stillness. Silence. Her eyes look nowhere other than the match feed.

"The inevitable result of being handed research on your opponents: tendency toward Finishers in the opening seconds of a match. This was a pair of gambits by two equally matched minds. Opening position versus a misdirection attack. Neither will result in a decisive blow; they are too dangerous to each other to commit. Counteraction, dissipation. Like the lasers fired into the water."

Mirror leans forward, as if she's just noticed something. She frowns in thought. Another long pause, cut off one more time at the exact moment Maelia opens her mouth to rescue her junior.

"[The Spear That Grows Inside The Reeds]. [The Serpent That Hides Inside The Spear]. Every move in a fight can be turned around. Jacinta can use the curtain of water to build a wall of steam; opportunity to crush two of three attack vectors. Hide the direction of her main ordinance. Dala can break off her assault in the confusion, return from an unconfirmed angle. Continued redirection of her power source to buy time for her deathblow. Whoever. Whomever..."

The broadcast suddenly catches a sharp 'click' and a crunch. Mira watches Maelia wince at the way she bites her own thumb-claw down between her teeth.

"The one who reaches for the spear first will be the loser. Thus. Contest of Wills. We are watching. To see. Who will hurt themselves more. To bury their teeth inside. The other's neck."

[Tatterdemalion]

fire her mind is a ragged firecloak expanding outside Akar outside the universe filling it with stars fire rippling up and down the chains linking her to her jackals fire flashing inside her eyes without smoke as she roars and flexes her fingers against the wrists of her only anchor without claws without claws digging into her skin like they're tumbling into bed together and

step two step jump jink spin on heel skirt flare out chain bouncing against her chest facing down a field of impossible fireflies and she flexes her fingers against the wrists of her only anchor as she dances through the danger with divine grace wrist down chains pulling taut as microadjustments cause the hissing shots fireflies to pass a hair's breath past her veil and there's two more of her making different-but-the-same approaches one bending her back another crouching low as she presses her palm against the wet earth and

constellations scorch their way through the dark and comets shriek out of their places lashing fire across her heartvoid but the three paths were already decoupled and three different arcs is just a new thing to keep in mind her head is burning and her laughter is cracking open the spaces between stars but she's not going to break or flinch or accept defeat on any vector because

leap and now she has wings shining burning with smokeless jade feathers spread out on either side of her as she races the attempt to track her and the farthermost her is staying low on the ground but the one in the center is swimming through the air dead on as she soars on her goddess's wings and lets out a muffled shriek of delight her skirts fanning out her grip still tight on her wife's wrists because

the furnace is not ready but they couldn't let her get up into the sky and the path to victory is one written now by the darts of Mu Ysha who takes and takes and never gives back and that is the difference between us because she will spill out everything on her Dolly's head for choosing her for dreaming of being beautiful for wanting to be paraded before aliens and spacers alike for being obedient for being hers for choosing her for choosing her and so

three of her strike at once and one snaps at Jacinta's feet and one plunges straight for Jacinta's heart even as the shots shred the coherence of her limbs but it's Dolly who's trailing the mesh from one wrist and pulls it tight over the cockpit rocks the pirate back on her heels blinds and silences her long enough for Jade's nails to score a flourish just over her heart and kick her in the small of the back rock her forward onto her knees on the wet earth

and the jackals are snapping from both sides but with the mesh tied over the sensors suite in the cockpit she won't be able to tell what's just a bite of light arms and what's a slash to her fuel lines and weapons systems and in her ears she'll hear the ragged laughter of a banked fire tongue lolling and teeth sharp enough for a kiss as she is undressed for the final blow

and it's her actually who dares to sneak in a playful smack and a hip-check as she slides armor off Jacinta's shoulder and it's her who dares to plant a "kiss" on the mark on Jacinta's chest and she can feel the goddess's ardor flare and they're both into this moment of exultation after doing the impossible and it's all on camera so what do you think of THAT Valynia?

[10 on Defying Disaster with Grace.]

---

The Barn Owl should be silent when it rises into the air. But the science just isn't there yet.

It's the natural play, isn't it? To take to the skies when backed into a corner. To regroup. Which means that Smith will be focusing on closing off avenues for her to escape to. As if hiding somewhere else on the battlefield would be doing anything that's not just wasting time.

The Barn Owl swoops down upon the Unseen Goose like an owl with its wings outspread, opening fire to cut off Smith's own avenues to escape, and pivots in midair for the kick. This is the way that Dolly and Jade would do it, isn't it? They thrive when getting in close to... well, usually to seduce their opponents, using Dolly's body language and Jade's smug taunts to wear down the opponent's will to fight.

Well, there's more than one way to wear down a will to fight, and sometimes that involves using mecha as extensions of bodies. The Barn Owl goes for the headlock.

"Then you can shut up and lose gracefully, maybe? You will be fine no matter how you do, you've already shown everyone what you can do! This is my last chance to make the galaxy see us!" Us? Or her? "I'll lose to a goddess, I'll lose to a Zaldarian next-in-line-for-a-coup, but not a pirate!" Arm bar. Shots go off into a tree, splitting it into splinters. "And your plucky-go-lucky pirate crew will still follow you if you lose here, yes?"

[BlasTech]

"G-good Se ..." Isabelle starts, her face flushing red. "Well, there are certainly some things I am not talking about on an open channel either!"

It's possible you can also hear the tongue sticking out at the end of that sentence.

"But generally, yeah, it's been a really good week! We had a breakthrough on some work with Zaldarian nanotech I can't wait to dip into more, training went well and I even averaged six hours of sleep per night for once! Nearly seven even!"

She leaves unspoken the fact that it would have been longer had it not been for Asil's ... determination.

"But yeah, the talk helped a bit too - I feel a bit ... lighter? I'm not sure how to describe it. I'm glad to hear Whispered Promise is working on her what we talked about. She doesn't have to, so it means alot that she meant what she said? Ah, look at me ramble. How are you? Been good? Ready for today's fight?"

Isabelle's also watching closely, but not making any aggressive moves to start the fight. She's ready if anything happens - but the sense is two boxers testing out their equipment, stretching and watching each other in the pre-match. Waiting for the mutually-agreed bell to sound.

"I know you're here representing Hybrasil. We're kind of the same in that I'm here for Terenius too. Three of us left each in the knockouts - maybe only one or two after today as the others are paired up together. If Ada wins though, I get the feeling her wish would be used closer to home."

"Any idea what you'll wish for if you make it to the end?"

[Anarion]

Jade and Dolly

You dance faster than fire. The shots buzz past you one after another, and you move through them somehow, impossibly. They brush past you so close that you can taste them. The heat upon Jade’s skin, the heat upon Dolly’s tongue. It’s like Ksharta’s spiciest stew and a carbonated drink all together, hot and bubbling and promising pain at every angle. And yet they are only a brush, an instant, a thousand instants that you move through and past and you are upon her.

To most observers, the patterns would be difficult to follow. For someone like Mirror, the key routing is the way that jackal two’s path arcs low, forcing the Roar to re-adjust itself to maintain fires on all three approach routes (being unable to fire directly below its feet with currently visible weapons). That movement creates the spaced opening that the real idol uses to close and cut the lines. Amid the steam and the roiling water, the suddenly failing lasers create a rainbow across Dolly and Jacinta, a backwards light source splintering itself through the water onto the surface of the two machines. So close, so brushed.

“You know, I didn’t believe the reports.” Jacinta is laughing, loud and long and interwoven with her speaking. She is rerouting power to her thrusters, letting the cut ammo lines and useless lasers fall below her. “AIs aren’t known for being the best pilots and the priestess has no proven record. I’d never give you a job in my business. Well, not before now. Now, if you want, you can join me and I’ll give you your own hoard, an independent station segment, and two support ships fully crewed.”

She takes a punch at one of the drones, flying higher above the water, the rainbow fading against her tan metallic skin. Around her neck, though, a sizzling electric main bursts into life and she headbutts the second jackal as it flies in close to her, sending electrical feedback flying through the system, even though it stops her motion too.

“My power is that I can give you these things. The space, the equipment, the crew. They are mine to use as I please. You’ve felt it, haven’t you goddess?” She says the word with a certain mockery. “Yes, the way you chased after Valynia, the fights you had before. You need to control them all, control everyone or else you have nothing at all. You understand what it means to truly be free. That’s my freedom. It’s the only real freedom.”

Her confidence tells you that as far as she’s concerned, the fight has barely begun.

Angela

“Stupid. Do you really think that you get worse because you have support? Because you have backup plans and people to help you when you’re down?”

The elbow slammed into the chest of the Barn Owl is so strong that the feedback from your mesh makes you double over. Metal crumples, and Ada uses her strength to push herself out of the headlock, leaving your vulnerable to her fists.

“I am strong because of everyone who supports me! Every hand that helped give me the time to train and customize! Every word of encouragement! I want to win for them! It may not be the only way to provide, but it’s a damn good one and damn it, I have my pride girl!”

Blows rain down upon you and they hurt. This really was an overmatch. You’re not entirely out of options, but the Barn Owl can’t last through this for very long so it’s already time for pulling out all the secrets and last ditch efforts. You thumb your ion cannon nervously. The trick hadn’t worked on Solarel because she’d never given you the chance. It still grated. Over an hour in that miserable strom and you never even got to take a shot. You really do miss all the shots you don’t take.

But that did mean you have it now, still available, still an option. But if Ada catches wind of it, if she dodges your only shot or even manages to take it on the side and only lose non-critical systems, you’re finished.

***

Isabelle

“Oh good se it is then” she copies where you cut off with a blush, but then lets it go.

“My wish? I’m planning to wish for an infinite supply of the best coffee from Calysil. They make it incredible there, like you have no idea, it’s literally got some kind of drugs in addition to the stimulant that just make you happier, but like, without losing your edge. Wish I had a cup now but it’s prohibitively expensive to export out of the Hybrasil star cluster and it’s not even on the beaten path for black market piracy.”

She chuckles, pulls her spear out. “You probably think it’s dumb, but like, the thing with wishes is that even all the power of intergalactic empires can’t really give you what you want. Like, if I wished I were a better detective, what would they do? Give me some really expensive cybernetics and the top of the line AI assistant like that one that got inhabited by a goddess competing in the other match maybe? But would any of that actually make me a better detective? Would I be happy with it even if it did?”

She waves her spear around, tests the balance, cuts a few blades of grass. “You’re making me think maybe yes. Maybe I could get the same nanotech as you and I’d be just as excited as the experiments you’re talking about. But even then, I’m not sure I want to become a better detective that way, if that makes sense? Like, if I get it because I wished for it, then it isn’t actually what I wished for anymore. I know, I know, that’s dumb. But that’s why I figured, hey, the coffee is where it’s at, absolutely no way that one goes wrong.”
“Alright, good enough, you’re getting me all jazzed up thinking about this, so I’m gonna stab you now. No saying you weren’t ready~”

She sets her spear and comes at you. Like she did with Mirror, her real talent isn’t in the technology (though Hybrasil tech is very good) but in her handling. She’s got perfect form. It’s a flexible charge with options to adjust depending on how you respond and yet committing in such a direct way that’s already put you on the back foot to make a response even with her warning. Hurry!

***

Solarel

The Kathresis told Akaithon the truth. It simply withheld some information. For example, the fact that the Kathresis places functionally zero value on the life of its pilot beyond the relevant capability to achieve operational objectives.

Akaithon uses her particular brand of puissance to put as much power into her forward-facing shields as possible, blunting as much of the small arms fire as she can. And then when she’s close enough, she puts the power into the spear and she simply takes the rest. Indeed, she takes it directly, centrally, right through the center of mass to ensure that the Kathresis’ small frame does not have its momentum arrested or lose an important grip or connection on that powered lance.

The match would be over right now if the Kathresis were a little taller. And you might be dead. But it isn’t quite tall enough, and it didn’t have the luxury of a more exposed attack vector. The blow is to the leg, and with it, your entire left leg feels as though it vanished. It might as well have, the spear has completely severed its connection to the rest of the Aeteline. It hangs limp and useless and a cold sensation runs up your waist near it where the particles at the edge still have enough energy to vibrate at all.

You’re forced immediately to direct power to thrusters to avoid toppling, reducing some of the weaponry by necessity.

Even so, the Kathresis can’t maintain its position or it will simply be ripped apart, and so it retreats, all power split between thrusters and defensive shields to maintain itself intact in order to be able to deliver another blow.

With the damage sustained, it will be harder for it to land another blow, though it now has an angle on attacking you where your own leg is blocking the ability to direct fires.

The Kathresis is certainly still active though, so Akai didn’t die either despite the fire directed at the pilot’s cabin. But you have to consider that if you repeat the tactic for your victory, it could kill Akai in the process. The Kathresis clearly doesn’t care.

The way the Kathresis used Akai, it’s exactly how everyone imagined you in your legends. It’s why neither of two empresses would accept you. But now none of them will intervene on behalf of Akaithon. None of them thought she was worth ensuring her own protection before she went into this match in a new and untested machine.

***

Mirror

“[Claws out only for show]” Maelia murmurs, still wincing from the claw bite and trying to bring herself back from her own daze as a result. Neither of them has tried to land a decisive blow yet. They’re each holding back. The Roar, despite its reputation for intensive weaponry, doesn’t seem fazed at all by switching to melee combat, and Smokeless Jade Fires has moved decisively but without truly penetrating the armor, she’s only cut lines and external cables.

“Gosh, isn’t that beautiful though? The way they crossed over the water, and the rainbow effect (caused by concentrated light diffusion not previously seen due to the laser being held coherently until its source was destroyed), that’s not something you’re going to see in most matches.”

She nods, fluffs her mane to think. “[The legs poised to pounce] make me think the favor is still tilted towards the Roar. She has yet to truly strike.”

[Thanqol]

Even here language found ways to strike at her. She'd let too much of it into herself, fool that she was. If she was not contaminated with the implications tied up in the word 'victory' she would have fought differently. If she was not contaminated with the implications tied up in the word 'Akaithon' she would have not have misidentified her opponent. A valuable lesson. There were many words to forget before she could be perfect.

Dispense with history, culture, backstory, habit, sentiment. See the world as it was. Her opponent was the Kathresis and it had tried to strike at her heart. She must armour it.

She considers first her damaged leg. Its removal would help optimize her firing vectors. Away with it - a clean slice, leaving her balancing on one foot in the centre of the ring. She considers next her defense. With physical evasion reduced she will be reliant on thrusters which would have her move in predictable patterns. She accepts this - aesthetic commitment to perfection added risk she could no longer tolerate. Killing Ak- killing the pilot was unacceptable. Her opponent knew this and used it, reducing her vectors for possible attack to a single point.

The Aeteline opened its cockpit hatch and deployed its anti-personnel sniper rifle. The pilot wielded it, long rifle held up to her eye, mind-impulse cable running from the pilot's neck into the body of the machine. The Aeteline stilled the pilot's breathing, quieted her mind. Less distractions from the important work of calculating vector, angle, momentum and target silhouette. Optical arrays shifted and configured, tracking the darting motions of the Kathresis. Computer cylinders shifted and whirred, the immense energy of the reactor pouring into calculations so advanced they bordered precognition.

The Aeteline's target was even more perilous than the enemy pilot. It was the enemy pilot's mind-impulse cable. If the Kathresis wished to fight her, let it do so directly. She would do it the same honour.

[Defy Disaster: 13]

[Phoe]

"Mm."

Mira's teeth continue to worry at her ruined claw, plucking bits of it out of her fur and spitting them on the ground where she sits. Her tongue laps at the wound, cleaning, chewing, spitting, cleaning until the pressure finally abates.

"Beautiful," she agrees, "Transcendent. This is a clash of the divine. The Red Band, more fervently faithful than any Hybrasil caste outside of the temples themselves. Smokeless Jade Fires, newly annointed goddess. No Contest of Grandmothers, this, but it is only natural their fight would be blessed. Even still, I..."

Her tongue clicks. She looks down. The fur on her wrist is growing soaked with red, pooling around her sleeve. She tilts her head at it, and folds her thumb under a fist.

"Feel I," she continues, "Owe viewers an apology. My matches have been. Hideous. By comparison."

Her hand unfolds again. It moves toward her face until she can rest her chin on it. Her ruined claw scratches at her chin and mottles her fur. For a moment, that is the nature of the broadcast booth. The scratching of a bloodied hand. The worrying at a mane. Two cats watch each other cautiously, with eyes that only see the stars three full jumps away or more.

Mira yawns. Maelia unclenches. All at once the atmosphere inside grows warmer, and the pair of them smile without looking at one another. Tails flick in lazy, erratic patterns. On screen, the rainbow dissipates, and a jackal falls from the sky.

"Jacinta Niares passes the first test. [Sunlight Regards the Cliffs, She Know She Will Descend One Day. The Moon Regards the Sun, She Sees Her Greed And Not the Fall]. I don't know how good her secret technique is, but she values it above her surface weapons. Even her methodology. Did you see the way Dala Hunters' decoy swept low before the blow fell? It choked the line of fire, but only because Jacinta Niares refused to drop any available target. She sacrificed tempo to hide the sharpness of her claws. Smokeless Jade Fires will test her again now.

If. If she does not break. Before she reaches for the Goddess' belly. I predict Jacinta Niares will turn this painted world they dance inside of into what the TC spaces call 'Hell'. But..."

She trails off into silence. Show her, Smokeless Jade Fires. Show her, Dala Hunters. Show her what your love is worth against Tactics.

[BlasTech]

Isabelle was most definitely ready - but even so, found herself adjusting plans on the fly.

Melee charge - optimal response is to drop grenades and disengage, use ranged weaponry to ...

She tosses the autocannon aside, drawing her sword. Meeting the charge with one of her own.

No. Not this time. I'm not making the same mistake again.

This won't be like the match with Ksharta. This time, Isabelle will give Kiriala the fight she deserves - one of blades and wills, not one where she's just picked at from range. It's with that burning resolve that Emberlight blasts forward across the grass. Her sword tip sparking as it parries aside the blade of the Ginger Tiger's spear. A perfectly executed turn and strike that forces Kiriala to block with her haft. Precision jet blasts to strengthen each follow up hit - lighting up the ground around them with flashes of blue and flame as the two trade blows.

Kiriala might have the best tech her nation has to offer, skills that surpass any of her peers and a confidence that many would find enviable. But - and this is the important thing - Isabelle has all of those things too. Perfect form? Speed? Precision? It's like you're fighting a mirror image, distorted only by the galactic fluctuations of chance that brought this spirit up in a different body to your own.

This fight will be different. It already is different. The Isabelle you face isn't the cold, detached and - frankly, foolishly arrogant - opponent you might've seen in her previous matches. What had once been ice has melted. What had been robotic precision, detached and cold, is now being powered by something more. Something that shines through with every word that comes over the comms.

"I don't think the coffee thing is dumb" Isabelle says, genuinely, in a moment where you both lock blades. "I mean, remember who you're talking to here - I don't actually know what my wish would be either. Not anymore. And if you like a thing, then why not wish for it? I mean, I was a bit tempted to wish for all the books on Zaldarian and Hybrasillian tech that I could ever read. Would that have been dumb too?"

Pirouette away, flourish, jump and strike. The dirt around the Ginger Tiger erupts as Kiriala lunges forward. Isabelle meets the strike, talking again once they've locked their blades.

"I'm curious though - where'd the thing about being a detective come from? Is that something you'd be interested in? That'd be pretty cool."

[Roll to figure out a person: 5 + 1 + 2: 8. What are your feelings towards this tournament? How could I get you to find a different goal than winning? And, because this is a combat situation: What do you hope for your future? Kiriala can ask one in return]

[Tatterdemalion]

"AI?"

Mesh sizzles, crushed in Jacinta's hand. The jackals weren't able to disengage quite fast enough; one's limping, erratic, of limited utility now. Two of her left. Two of her, circling Jacinta, daring the occasional jab, the slow unraveling of her titanic defenses. But there's fire in Jade's mouth.

"And what does that make you? Should I pretend to be amazed that something which used to be a fetus is piloting a mech? It would make as much sense!"

She ducks in closer, rakes at Jacinta Niares' thigh, is out before those incredible weapons can be brought to bear. She is motion, Dolly is her motion, together they are flowing like the water shining all around them. That's her victory, every time. To be untouched. To be inviolate. To show the world how Dolly can move when she's encouraged.

"If I accept, you will think to yourself, look at this smart computer! Isn't she a beautiful trophy, a thing of program loops and hyperreactive generation tables, a funny little pet! You would look at a bird and declare it an eggshell! How many times must I fan my plumage, Jacinta Niares?"

Charge thrums inside of her. The universe is vast and it is so difficult to be the center of it all. To carve her status into the stars over and over again. This will be her myth cycle. When the name of her is immortal, she will be remembered for overcoming her many rivals and taming them, proving her divinity through battle and seduction.

"I am Smokeless Jade Fires, born of a jackal's companion pattern, and I have descended into the womb of Hybrasil. I have contested with Dishai in the ball court named Patience and Yearning. Four its corners, four its sides, four its rings. I have been unraveled and I have been reassembled. Only once have I allowed one not already my bride into my four-cornered star heart, and that for the sake of Dala Hunters, whose star name is Seven Quetzal, who is without equal among the queens of Hybrasil. Nothing you can offer me is worth more than the glory I will heap upon her head. I am the knife that cuts itself into the world. Insult me again and I will pull you free from your mecha-heart like a seed from a papaya."

The inside of Dolly's burning head is one prolonged shriek of flustered delighted embarrassment. The only thing she can offer in return is the same thing she has always offered her goddess: all of her, obedient and graceful and daring not to be touched, lifted up to impossible heights, never making a mistake, never stepping on the wrong beat. She shines like the star in Jade's heart, doing something absolutely fucking impossible for a little botanist from the Gardens, aware that there's no way they should be able to win this, or, another way: that winning this is a miracle.

---

"Do-- fuck-- do you think-- do you think I don't have my pride?"

Arms in. Protect the cockpit. Shaking with the feedback telling her that her body is being pummeled. One shot.

"Or do you think me the loser? The country girl? I had to stand alone to make it to here! And everyone thinks--"

Thinks of her as a punchline for a magazine cover. Tricked, bamboozled, her beloved mech without the strengths and surprises that are needed to win a contest like this. Every time, fighting the wrong battle. A disgrace on the family name. The arm candy of an alien pretending to be a real challenger.

"Everyone, they think I am just this! Always fighting the wrong battle, but at least I fight them! And when I win, Smith, you can tell your whole crew to come after me, I'll take you all on any day of the week, any planet in the system!"

Victory is being able to stand up enough to fire the cannon at the right moment. But every moment risks damage to the cannon and its systems. All she can do is keep standing up, to refuse to get out of Smith's space, to take it like she can take the mockery and the attention hand in hand. To endure. To make everyone remember.

[Anarion]

Isabelle

You can tell that Kiriala is surprised by your combat form. She knew that TC had mechas to match Hybrasilian models and maybe even outperform them in some ways, but it’s still a shock to her to see someone just keep up with her directly. It’s different than Mirror’s match where Mirror demonstrated an unmatched ability to simply do the impossible. This isn’t unexpected, you’re performing a parry and riposte that could have been a textbook illustration (and might well be for the coming generation). You’re just doing it with a grace and speed that Kiriala hasn’t yet seen in this tournament.

[If you haven’t already, mark your Legendary Skill]

She continues the exchange of blows, feet planted and plowing large furrows in the grasses as the sun glints off both your weapons. You can tell she revels in the flow of it all, spear turning and spinning, speed and precision actually increasing as she maneuvers against you, both ends of it being used to keep you on the defensive as she steps, thrusts, and constantly adjusts. But your last question, too, takes her aback.

“I…oh…I guess, I mean um, Mirror didn’t mention and I haven’t said anything. I um…” She’s obviously blushing, and apparently has her own version of an Asil in one form or another. “Well, I um…I mean my main work is investigating smugglers so it’s kind of like detective work. And a few times I got to partner with Shantriala Hunter, Six Thunders. She’s um…she’s like sort of famous for solving crimes on the Hybrasil capital system. Just figures people out just like that, but she’s pretty small and not that fast, her descent is one of the smaller phenotypes for Hybrasilians, so she needs a partner sometimes. She also really likes her coffee.”

You can tell this is getting her mind off of things. She almost misses a block, takes a grazing blow from your sword on the arm, shoves it away, tries to recenter herself and resumes the assault. But she’s daydreaming about Shantriala and really that’s the answer to all your questions.

***

Solarel

Days ago, a minor official helping to manage the logistics of the Akar tournament decided, after watching the footage of the Aeteline departing the Crystal Gala, that its next match would be most exciting in a contained arena to prevent it from withdrawing to extreme range. As a matter of both fairness and doubling down on excitement, this official ensured that the newly formed arena would also match the aesthetics of several species and provide a central, open area for combat with no places to hide and no possibility of being entirely out of weapons range for any participant.

When your small arms fire damaged the cloak of the Kathresis, this further meant that it would be a dark-colored target against light-colored stone, its features and appearance easily spotted relative to its background. When you cut off your own leg, it ensured that you had no blindspots for a maneuvering appointment to add statistical uncertainty into the calculations.

As the burning heart of the Aeteline races in tune with your own, you briefly understand that these factors transformed a shot that might have been impossible into one with at least one successful firing vector in all possibility spaces.

The shot streaks through the air, into the chest of the Kathresis, force blasting it past Akaithon’s cheek like a kiss, drawing a blushing line where it passes. The bullet impacts at the base of the mind impulse cable.

“Oh” says Akaithon before the sudden surge of her own body rushing into itself knocks her unconscious and the sound of her slumping onto the floor can be heard over the open comms line.

In this, the Kathresis is powerless to change things. The AI takes over for an incapacitated pilot, and the machine readies another lance charge. But without the pilot’s reflexes and link for the AI to support, overall functionality is slower, more sluggish, less flexible. Nor can it speak at all. The Kathresis, now, can only be understood as it tries, desperately, to move through the bindings that enveloped it.

***

Jolly

“Good!” Jactina shouts over the comms, another low roar rumbling within her beneath her shout. You can feel it reverberate through the air itself. “You’ve very right, if you’d have accepted, you’d have become my slave just like that. But that does mean, goddess, that you’ve made the prize for taming you even greater!”

She smiles, and she shouts, and she rushes you and the jackal both. Above the water, there’s now only a mild spray as the steam jets are settling and the sun shines down on you as you clash above the roiling lake. Jactina is all fists, all ferocity and power and cruelty. But underneath it all, there’s a precision to her movements, a calculation that applies the most power to every blow, that constantly makes you feel like the box is tightening around you and you have less and less room to maneuver even though you’re in an even fistfight in midair. There’s no more avoiding this confrontation.

[Roll to fight Jacinta]

***

Angela

“Good” says Ada over the comms and she means it sincerely. She sees you as a peer in that moment, you can hear it in her tone. You stand for something. Not the same as what she does, but it’s something real, something worthy, something of value. You have your own pride, your own expectations, your own heart to prove.

Blows shower down on you and the critical moment where you stand on the brink of victory and defeat and straddle them thin as a thread comes swiftly.

What happens?

***

Mirror

Maelia flicks her tail in excitement. She had, for a moment, flicked off her mic to look at you with concern, but had thought better of it, said nothing, flicked it back on, and then you had relaxed and she had relaxed and as far as she was concerned, that was good. At least until after the match.

“[The spined beast whose quills are merely to sow fear]” she is referring to a prey animal on Hybrasil. It’s known for having extremely sharp quills that it can flick its tail to throw at attackers. They’re quite painful, but the animal itself doesn’t value them. They’re there as a ward and if it’s actually attacked, it throws them all right away and switches to a different strategy reliant on its claws and rabid ferocity.

She looks at you with a smile as the combatants close and the fighting begins in earnest. “Ah, this really feels poetic doesn’t it? Jackals circling a lioness. This is the stuff of new mythology even before the goddess involved herself. Still, Jacinta is fighting with measured ferocity, isn’t she? Utterly in control of herself. I’ve never seen a pilot that confident even after being struck several times.”