Thanqol

Aristeia! Becoming a Champion

"I wouldn't recommend it," said Maxima. She gently rolled her shoulders, leaning gently back against the damaged lightpole. "It's a cold day out. I'd hate to see you catch a chill."

It was strange seeing her without her armour and shield. It made her look small - even though she still had an entire head on you. It also made her look unfamiliar. Maxima in her full combat suit was one of the most well-known and studied figures in Aristeia!. Thirty years bringing the exact same defensive combat style to every match meant that even children knew her moves by heart. Green rookies knew that if you stepped inside the envelope of her shield no harm would touch you.

But none of that gave any hint as to what she'd do when dressed in her COW! FIGHTING! singlet and blue jeans. But looking into her ice blue eyes you could sense a killing intent that you never felt from her in the arena.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Oh?" said Machia. She locked your phone and slipped it back in your pocket. "Well, that's a problem, isn't it? I only promised to untie you if you asked nicely. But now we're both stuck, because I need to test what you're capable of, and you need me to buy you a cup of coffee, but I can't go and give out freebies." She tapped her finger against her lips, looking up at the roof thoughtfully. "Well, there's a way."

She slid down off your back. The cold air shocked skin that had been warmed by her thighs. A moment later that cold was redoubled as Machia roughly slapped down a handful of cold cream right into that warm spot and began to massage it in with both hands. She worked her way from bottom to top, firmly and methodically rubbing the cold substance. As it soaked into your skin it started to radiate a deep and warm glow, a healing refreshment after the strain of her construction. The alternation between warm-cold-warm became hypnotic, so hypnotic that it slowed your reactions when she grabbed your hair, yanked it back, and slipped the bridle over your head. She got the bit in between your teeth before you could react, then pulled the straps on the back of your head tight.

"I've been thinking about head-locks," said Machia. "Sammy likes neck-strikes, you know? Synskin goes all the way up your neck, right to here," she ran her fingers along your jawline. "And if it gets struck then it clenches. That can lock your head into a certain position. Like -" She pulled your reins, wrenching your head hard to the left. "- this. And then you're stuck with your head in this awkward position for an extended period. Very disorienting. A lot of neck strain."

She stepped back, walked around to a counter and rummaged inside it. "And while it is within my capabilities to spend the entire walk pulling your reins myself, your group has multiple opponents known for fast and unpredictable movement. I've done what I can with your neck musculature and center of balance, but now the challenge is for you to keep your balance when your neck is pulled hard in a random direction and held there. So..." she produced a remote from the drawer. "I've got this! When I push this button -" The bit in your teeth pulls your head sharply to the right. "- or this -" you're yanked hard back.

She leaned forwards, putting a finger on your nose playfully. "So your challenge for now will be to go to the cafe with me and drink your coffee without spilling a drop. Do you think you can?"

Aristeia! Becoming a Champion

Strong hands reached out. They gripped the bent light pole and with a wrench, twisted the metal back into an upright position. Maxima looked up at her work, frowned, and twisted it again. "You did a number on this thing, huh?" she said. "Maybe if I..."

She thinks for a moment, then grips with both hands, rips the pole apart slowly - so that it doesn't tear the electrical cable inside - squeezes the torn part of the top pole into a narrow wedge, and pushes it into its base. It holds. "Got it!" she said.

She smiles down at you.

You've still got no idea how you could bring down Maxima. There's just too much of her to punch. Even Argeltia feels smaller than her. Maybe it's because Argeltia feels pain, whereas Maxima breathes it. She carries oceans of it on her shoulders, but as long as her kneecaps keep she'll stand, and as long as her cheeks hold she'll smile.

"Rough night, huh?" she said. She had a bag with sports drinks, bandages and peanut-butter protein bars. She didn't offer; she just started giving, like to do anything less was inhuman.

No Safe Port

You've been on the bad side of town before. You recognize a pickpocket shimmy when you see it. Those touchy hands, that flexible affection, that constant drunken sway - that's all in service of getting something out of your pocket, and it's not your credits. He's aiming at the far higher risk play of getting your spaceship code lock from your neck. It's a damn fool, or damn desperate thing to do. There's no way he'd get far in it.

"She said back off!" snapped Merskiv, a little too loud, deflecting a particularly bold semi-drunken swipe. One of the stormtroopers notices the commotion and signals to his squad; they start shoving their way though the crowd in unison.

The man smiles - a twitchy, apologetic smile. "Of course. How rude of me." He glanced up, eyes uncanny blue through their thick black mascara. "I am Ruvert. Captain Ruvert." He blinked, like trying to remember the full thing. "Captain Ruvert Thousand-Eyes. Of the Black Reaver." The stormtroopers were coming faster, shouting for people to get down. "Pirate." He scratched his chin, fingers dripping with rings set with rubies. "Space pirate. And for what it's worth, I am dreadfully sorry for what's about to happen."

Aristeia! Building a Champion

"Hmm?" said Machia, taking your phone out of your pocket. She leans down over you, hair brushing your cheek, as she uses it to scan your face. With a chime it opens and she sits back up, free hand still gripping your hair.

"Well, she has asked for you. And you're telling me that if I untie you now you'll go right over there and let her do whatever she wants to this body I've worked so hard on? Some would call that ungrateful. Some would be jealous. All that for a coin flip. If you draw the wrong team after letting her work on you, you will lose. If you don't - then do you think that her work will give you more of an edge than mine?"

She pats your head. "I'm going to enforce some thinking about it time. That means coffee will have to wait. Try to stay awake for me, okay?" She pinched a nerve on your shoulder, an electric little reminder.

She flicked through the next message. "Li Teng, Kias and Musashi are all training together and have asked you to join them," she said. "Low energy offer. That's Musashi sizing everyone up for her sword, she'll get more out of that than anyone else will. You can accept, if you'd like, even if that might make some people jealous. You can ask me nicely to untie you. Maybe I do, and you walk right out that door. Or... you could get comfortable and trust that I know what's best for you."

Aristeia! Becoming a Champion

You still don't know how she did it.

You can view the exchange from every conceivable angle. Titanomachia coming towards you. Maxima and Musashi by your side, forming an invincible wall of violence. The look in her eyes as she accelerated into a full run towards you. Not determined. Not excited. Not even serene. It was like she was already thinking about what you were about to do wrong - and how she could fix it.

Musashi's sword hit Maxima's shield. Your fist caught nothing but ribbons and hair. The geometry of bodies folded and unfolded, even if it meant Machia slowing to a walk, squeezing around you like you were a pedestrian in her way, dipping into a crouch and launching like a coiled snake -

And on, to the scoring zone.

You'd never seen anyone move like that since Gata in her prime. Even Maxima, who had fought Gata in her prime, said so afterwards. A new mountain arose before you, an ultimate challenge, the barrier you would have to cross to become a champion -

But before you could reach it, the mountain crumbled to dust.

You are alone. Your phone is lighting up with messages - Argeltia, Lios, Decima and The Kraken are all asking you to train with them, corpos are offering sponsorship deals for what they expect to be a new champion while you've still got that rookie discount. But the stars of yesteryear are fading and nobody from your generation comes close to where you've already reached. And so you watch the wind turbines over the stormwater channel and think again about Titanomachia.

The Three Mountains

"Right now, they are calm and peaceful, playing by all the rules and talking loudly about healthy competition and international law," said Ms. Scipio. "Which they can do because they are winning the peace. They are targeting our industrial sectors, government contracts and subsidies with legal and low-level greyzone covert activities. They feel safe from retaliation due to their leverage over our transportation networks. Attacking us is currently profitable for them, which means the activity will intensify over time. I do not suggest starting a war of aggression but we need to re-establish deterrence."

She brought up a series of slides - graphs showing corporate security incidents over time, broken down by faction. "As you can see, the incidents have been gradually escalating as they become emboldened. My previous instructions have been to harden our facilities rather than going on the offensive or investing in any sort of credible deterrence force. This approach has not produced results. We are spread too wide and thin to secure everything, and all an offensive costs the Polygon is sending a Johnson to engage a local Cyber Knight, who will pick our most vulnerable facility."

"I have three proposals detailed. Option one is to stay the course as we are, hardening as much as possible with the money we have. This will cost 5MC and, in my view, will not accomplish anything but kicking the can down the road. Option two is to withdraw all our assets from the field into hardened central facilities. This will cost 20MC in lost business, revenue, working from home premiums, and so on, but represents an organized withdrawal rather than a chaotic rout. Option three is a capability building program specifically targeting the Polygon. We would make contact with pirate groups operating out of Florida, reach out to the Yu Jing State Empire, and invest in internal combat assets. This would either force them to quit the field or begin an arms race, and if we do this immediately the show of resolve would communicate clearly that this is not a cycle they want to be locked into. I project they quit the field, though I would not recommend making this full investment for a second year or they will regard it as aggressive intent. This will cost 50MC."

It is very clear which option she favours.

Aristeia! Building a Champion

Steady hands pull your hair. Twist and spin and tie - release. Again.

You lie on the table, topless, face down. Machia straddles your back like a masseur. Sometimes her fingers are intense, deliberate, feeling muscles, working diligently through the details of your augmentic neural-interface ports, hands gripping the back of your neck where the data-connection unit to your Cube rests. Sometimes she wears what she affectionately calls the 'pain glove', an acupuncturist's oven mitt crackling with electricity, that for all its unsettling appearance gives the feeling of a bone deep warmth soaking into your muscles.

(Well, it does now. Now that she's calibrated it correctly.)

You can't see what she does. You can only feel her hands and her tools moving across your skin. Sometimes she's gentle. Sometimes she's cruel. Sometimes she's absolutely indifferent, and that's the best time of all. When she is so deep into her focus that she forgets to even pretend to care about you. When she's like that your body has her full and absolute attention. That's when she sees the future in you, and with fingernails, micro-scalpels and chemical pulses she tries to drag it out of you. Sometimes the focus is so intense it lasts multiple days, and any moment when you're not on her table, to eat or stretch, she's looking at you as though she's thinking about strapping you down.

But that focus isn't there right now. She's playing with your hair, performing the rehearsed motion that pulls it away from the Cube-interface port in your neck and releasing it, again and again. In the distance, the stream is on, the talking heads are chattering. Hexadome legend Titanomachia announces her retirement. Taowu sighted haunting the streets in a widow's dress, tears of blood wandering down her face. An interview with Maxima where the square-jawed superheroine defends Machia's decision and privacy, driving the conversation relentlessly back to what the situation is going forwards. Talking about the new star, Sammy, and her bare-knuckle fighting style.

And then they're talking about you.

Madeline. Scorer. Wasn't going to make the cut for Season 55 before Titanomachia's retirement. Unexceptional base chassis, increasingly unhinged speculation as to what you're going to spend your energy budget on, or who you're going to train with. Without knowing enough about you to talk much the conversation quickly moves on to a discussion of Group One more generally and the threat that Xoxic poses.

"I don't want you training with her," said Machia, hand closing into a fist in your hair. "I don't like her work. It's sloppy. You need better."

The Three Mountains

"My primary concern is the Polygon," said Ms. Scipio.

The Polygon. Logo: An ever-shifting polyhedral shape in rainbow colours. Aesthetic: Extreme personalization. The old military-industrial complex given new life, a formal union of major data technology companies, insurance industries and old aerospace manufacturing sectors. Their mission is to know everything, and know the dollar figure cost for destroying anything.

"Lhotse's business model relies on certain strong connections with the State," said Scipio. "The Polygon is a successor of old government entanglements and they regard several of our key sectors as their natural territory. In addition, many of our international shipping lines are reliant on Polygon security. They can threaten us like no other corporation can: By breaking our connection to the State and by even implying that our commercial routes are no longer fully secure. My priority as Head of Security is mobilizing Lhotse's resources to confront this threat."

Something about how she spoke about them made you think that this was personal for her. The old nation state militaries had not all been happy with the growing influence of the Polygon and the commercialization of security. A grudge nursed like this for decades implied a myopic focus.

The Three Mountains

The VI's automatic prioritization system triaged the security solution and transit request into a single meeting. Your meeting with Ms. Scipio was done via comms while you set off in an aerotaxi to the lower ward. No tail or guards, but the personal attention of the corporation's head of security every step of the way. Sometimes the VI did something right.

You had a full copy of Ms. Scipio's profile on hand and it was not what you expected. She was a personal pick from Mrs. Everest, and her pedigree was not in corporate security, infowar, covert operations or any of the other classical backgrounds that typically mark corporate security leaders. She was an Admiral. A combat veteran of the French Navy during the Red Decades, before its integration into the PanOceanian State. She had, notably, been present at the Battle of Corsica, one of the most iconic moments of the Red Decades. Somewhere between mutiny, coup, civil war and malfunction of an integrated battle management system, the Battle of Corsica had seen the French fleet open fire upon itself. Nobody was fully clear as to what had happened or what the political motivations of the parties involved. All the key figures had died.

Except for Ms. Scipio.

Your initial read on her was that this was not someone ashamed of her military service. She wore her suit like a uniform and her bearing was used to command rather than debate. She would not make it in this role if she was not Mrs. Everest's creature - and you suspect that the two get along very well - simply because someone like this needs a patron to maintain their position. The exact dynamic of their relationship is a mystery, but given the depths of Everest's political interplay with the State it could be anything.

"Ms. Kade," said Ms. Scipio. She held herself in readiness after that - that naval bearing at play, treating you as a superior officer, waiting to hear your orders.