"Lessons in Tyranny"
(Prelude)
written: 02/20/2002
This is a Five Star Stories and Ranma 1/2 crossover, and thus
most characters portrayed are not mine but are owned by Mamoru
Nagano and Rumiko Takahashi. This was written for entertainment
value only.
This prelude is very much an experiment, and any C&C would be
greatly welcomed as well as help me determine if I should continue
it. A glossary of terms is in the works as it's already been pointed
out to me that most people are not familiar with the Five Star
Stories world.
--- Tabyk (tabyk@yahoo.com) (www.tabyk.net)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * January 27th, 3960 Joker Calendar * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The feeling of victory as my master executes a perfect
retaliation severing the arm of the Mirage Knight Mortar Headd is
short lived as the laser cutter mounted on our opponent suddenly
sparks to life and chops down into us, nearly cutting straight to
Vatshu's core. The feedback from the control systems is powerful and
sudden, and I feel my body thrash in pain. The shock of Vatshu's
135-ton frame hitting the ground proves to be enough to black out even
I, momentarily.
When I finally open my eyes once again, it is painfully obvious
that we have lost the fight. The damage is extensive, and even the
headliner compartment itself is...
Master!
Snapping loose the restraints as quickly as I can, I open the
top of Vatshu to find the Headliner of the Mirage Knight Mortar Headd
standing before the opened and damaged compartment holding my Master.
Even the strong wind isn't enough to stop me from catching the
conversation between the two...
"I am Harrer Crytharis, 32nd Mirage Knight of the First Eastern
Corps of Amaterasu's Imperial Guard... and you are Sir Sydmian Grard,
Commander of the Colus Royal Armed Forces."
"I am." I watch as uttering even that simple statement causes
him pain. "My lord Colus V is a man of courage and virtue... and your
emperor has been a worthy and most formidable foe." Taking another
deep shuddering breath he then said, "Hurry and be on your way before
the storm smashes us both to pieces."
Seeing the young man hesitate my master then almost shouts, "Take
my head and quick about it!"
It is at that moment that everything within me screams, and
completely unable to stop myself I cry out, "No!"
The man looks up spotting me for the first time, and I silently
plead with him using every bit of unspoken language that I can.
Please, my whole body cries out, please spare my master's life.
"His Majesty requires only the word of those who serve him in
these matters."
Relief hits me as these words are spoken, almost like a tangible
substance. Climbing down towards them I hear my master say, "Let me
introduce Est." Glancing up at me as I finally join him he adds,
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
I try to smile, but just glancing at the wounds covering his body
tells me the miniscule chance of his immediate survival. For a brief
moment he graces me with one of those rare smiles before he turns back
towards the young man and says, "Now go quickly. It's going to be
difficult enough out there in that broken down Mirage."
With a brief bow, he leaves.
Turning away from the departing man I tuck an insulating wrap
around my master to keep the wind off of him. As I finish, he suddenly
reached out and took my hand.
"Forgive me, Est. Don't blame him, that Karrer."
"Master..." I breathe, as a foreboding dread washed over me.
"We've had a wonderful 30 years together, haven't we? Together
in this Black Knight we visited many planets and fought for many
people... always together, you and I."
"Please Master," I beg, "don't speak. Save your strength."
Looking away he says, "No, no. We have fulfilled our promise
to King Colus. Juchoon and Clotho will rise again."
Turning back to me he then said, "You're beautiful, Est. Truly
beautiful. It's no wonder that I never married. You have served and
pleased me in every way imaginable." Pausing to cough, with even that
action growing weaker by the moment he added, "Now, go and find a new
Master."
Throwing myself across his body I sob, "No! I don't want any
other master!"
"Est." Wiping tears from my eyes I look at him once more. "Thank
you for everything, Est." His voice now almost a whisper.
"I love you."
With that, he closed his eyes.
Gently shaking him in fear of making his wounds worse I plea,
"Master?" Getting no answer I shake him more forcefully almost
screaming out, "Master! Open your eyes, Master! Please, look at me!"
And that's when I knew he was gone.
I clung to his body and cried, for how long I do not know, before
an almost peace settled within me. With as much dignity as I could
muster I then began the laborious task of burying Sydmian Grard, the
5th man whom in my lifespan I've called 'Master.'
Finally, with that task completed, I turned back towards Vatshu
and spent a brief moment surveying the visible damage.
It was quiet extensive.
Placing a hand upon his huge armored shoulder I said, "And you,
Mortar Headd Black Knight, will fight no more battles," pausing for
a moment I then added, "nor will I."
The tears once again coming to my eyes I stated, "I'm going to
stay right here with you. I don't want to be alone... I belong to
my Master and to you... and I intend to be at your sides forever."
With that being said I climbed back into the Fatima control
compartment where I'd just spent the last 65 hours. Closing the hatch
I powered down the external combustion drive to minimal levels and
engaged the stasis mode, though I doubted at this point that it worked.
And as I, like my Master, closed my eyes a final time I murmured,
"Let us rest now, Black Knight... let us rest."
Within the interior of Vatshu, the Mortar Headd also known as
the Black Knight, I was grateful of the utter silence as the raging
storms of Alma erased the last traces our existence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * August 4th, 4102 Joker Calendar * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Marcus paused a moment to bow before fully entering the room,
an old fashioned show of respect that appeared to be lost on the man
waiting for him.
"Sir Wyndyll Marcus, sit down."
Most likely, it was the years of military training that allowed
the new arrival to due just that without rolling his eyes or sighing.
Every now and then old age bestows an advantage or two.
"I'm pressed for time, like always, and I'll be brief. Now that
King Colus VI has consolidated his position and things have begun to
settle down, we have been given the job of cleaning up. I need you
right now. You're an experienced headliner who won't make stupid
mistakes, and who'll be able to help enforce the new rule here."
"I won't pretend that this will be easy. The planet is in a state
of backlash from the War, and there are many even now trying to take
advantage of the situation. It's likely to get messy, Sir Wyndyll."
Taking a moment, unnecessarily, to think Marcus finally answered
with, "Yes, Lord Ballock, I'll sign."
"Good, the Chief of Staff will take care of all the details. He
should already be waiting for you outside."
Standing back up Marcus bowed once again before walking out the
doorway he'd just entered. Glancing over at Lilith, who'd been
waiting for him in the hallway, he managed to convey a volume of
personal feelings and information in the split second of a grimace.
Turning towards the only other person standing in the hallway he then
stated, "I am Sir Wyndyll Marcus, and this is my Fatima Lilith. I
was told that you would be handling my accommodations?"
The thin weasely man took a moment to leer at Lilith before
turning to regard Marcus. Again, old age and experience allowed him
to not backhand the man no matter how much he wanted to. There was
a time, not so long ago by Joker standards, in which Fatimas had been
mere sex toys. Used and literally thrown away when they finally broke.
Marcus hated anything that would remind Lilith of such times.
Muttering, "Of course, please follow me," the man led them down
the hall towards their new quarters. Shaking his head at the necessity
of this employment, Marcus once again sighed. Money was money,
however, and Mortar Headds were extremely expensive to upkeep.
'Daizina my dear,' he thought, 'you owe me big for this one...'
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * August 10th, 1988 Anno Domini * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pulling the last cookie sheet from the oven she smiled as the
smell filled the entire kitchen.
It's the small things that bring the most pleasure.
Taking a moment to fan them she peeked out the kitchen window
to spot Ranma as he prepared to launch himself into a kata. Arms rising
into a loose beginning stance it was easy to watch as he breathed,
finding his focus before exploding into activity... which made it a
surprise when he suddenly flopped onto the ground with a look of
disgust on his face. Then again, knowing what little she did about
his life so far, maybe it shouldn't have been that surprising at all.
Poor Ranma.
Words that she'd been thinking more and more often as of late.
As luck would have it, both of her sisters were out of town for
the week, and with all of the fiancees still trying to keep a low
profile after the wedding attempt, things have actually been mildly
calm for him and the household in general. Which, unfortunately,
might be part of the problem.
Which comes back to, of course, why she was baking cookies.
Ranma, she knew, is a person of action, of cause and effect. The
living embodiment of the phrase 'action speaks louder then words.'
And knowing this, her plan was simple.
Give Ranma an excuse to visit his mother. The one person who,
plainly obvious through his recent actions, he obviously wanted to
see more then anyone else right now.
"Ranma!"
Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he jumped to his feet
and dashes into the house proper, coming to an almost sliding stop
at the kitchen doorway. It was hard not to laugh at the expression
on his face as the smells assaulted his nose.
"Er... what's up Kasumi?"
"Are you busy, Ranma? I was hoping that you could run an errand
for me."
"Naw, not really. What'cha need?"
Loading the last of the cookies into the basket she'd bought this
morning, she covered the lot with a cloth and held it out to him.
"Could you please deliver these to your mother? She hasn't visited
in a little bit and I just wanted to let her know that we were thinking
about her."
Again, it's a near titanic struggle not to laugh as she watched
several expressions flash across his face. Puzzlement, shock,
understanding, and then real understanding, each phase completely
separate from one another. Grabbing the basket he almost shouts,
"Sure Kasumi!" and not even a half second later is out the front door.
Turning back to the cleanup job left, which is nothing compared to
what happens when Akane tries to cook, she almost missed his voice
calling out in the distance...
"Thanks Kasumi!"
With a sigh and a smile she then begin cleaning, but found her
thoughts wandering back towards the boy, young man really, who has
turned her whole family upside-down in the space of a single year.
'Has it been only a year?' she thought to herself. Some of the
adventures he, Genma, Akane, and even her father Soun have been on
simple boggle the imagination. An unknowing person would probably
think all the fights, the rescues, the stories, the epics, were one
big fictitious lie.
It's funny how one simple splash of cold water can make a believer
out of almost anyone.
Or how easily is it, no matter how one tries to keep it all at
an arms distance, to get caught up in the adventure. And like so many
others, she had found herself coming to desire the attention of the
wild child.
But fate, she feared, would never be that nice to them...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * October 31st, 4104 Joker Calendar * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It began with a sense of presence, and slowly expanded to touch
into the realms of other, more physical, senses. Cold, it is cold
here, cold and quiet. And dark. I open my eyes and spend a few moments
to find one of the display monitors and turn it on. The sudden light,
even dim as it is, is bright enough to make even I wince if just for
a moment.
And sudden I feel it again, the presence. It takes me a moment
before I finally recognize it for what it is.
Vatshu is speaking to me.
Scientists have argued it for many ages about whether or not
Mortar Headds themselves, fifteen meter plus engines of war and
destruction with all of their sophisticated control systems, were at
least semi-sentient beings unto themselves. Most would argue no,
others would want to research the issue. Should a person bother to
ask a Fatima Fate, on the other hand, the answer would be an almost
universal yes.
Feeling and impressions, sometimes not even that become known
to a Fatima or Headliner at times. It happens most often, however,
with those Mortar Headds who are special. Or old.
Vatshu, the Black Knight, is quiet special.
And very, very old.
I try to listen.
And instead of feelings of worry, or even pain, I'm surrounded
by excitement. Rejoice. A crying out of YES at some event that I
am unaware of, or do not yet understand. A wanting to share some new
triumph.
Checking the single monitor I'm surprised that Vatshu even has
power, the external combustion engines providing only a trickle of
power at best. So much time has passed, an unbelievable amount in
fact, that I wonder how I was able to even wake instead of falling
into death.
Making some requests of the single computer give me answers,
though not all the answers I'd hoped for. The stasis module had
actually functioned, the minimal power mode being enough to provide
for both it and Vatshu's memory systems all this time. Amazing. And
Vatshu himself, how again I do not know, is who activated the wake
sequences.
Why?
Again I try to listen, to receive the impressions from the vast
machine, but all I pick up now is a quiet expectation. As if to say
'I have done my part.' Eventually, even that fades and he is silent
once again. In the multiple millennium that we have been together,
he has spoken less then a dozen times.
And never so strongly as now.
With a sudden feeling of urgency I attempt to open the
compartment hatch, only to find out that this is no simple process.
It takes me nearly an hour, carefully levering hinges and snap plates,
before the hatch comes loose to crash to the ground outside. Thrusting
my head out into the dim light of dusk I take my first deep breath
of the outside air.
It is then that the memories come to haunt me. Grard's body lying
upon the ground, broken, as the last of his life slipped away while
I proved useless to stop it. Wrapping my arms around myself I try
to shield myself from them, but as always they prove to be the
stronger.
Looking across the way I try to spot the grave that I had so
laboriously dug for my final Master, but all traces of it are gone.
And it is then that I notice the body lay face down on the ground
at Vatshu's feet.
Leaping down I approach, and immediately notice that the hatch
door that I had just wrenched loose had almost crushed them, narrowly
missing the body by a measure of mere centimeters. Crouching down
I take a closer look.
It was an adolescent male, probably 60 or 70 years old with a
short, wiry build, between 170 and 175 centimeters in height. Severe
burns covered most of his back, legs, and shoulders while his dark
hair has been burned short. His clothing was almost completely gone;
the damage appeared to be caused by fire or explosion.
Glancing around I saw no craft, no footsteps, no smoke, nothing
that could explain his presence here. Yet, here he was.
And more importantly, he is still alive.
Taking a moment to jump back up to Vatshu's Fatima compartment
I retrieved the medical kit stored there and busied myself with trying
to clean and gel the burns. Finishing that I covered the boy's body
with a spare thermal blanket, and then sat back to watch as darkness
claimed the last of the failing eve light.
Looking once more at the unconscious boy laying at my feet I
wondered who he was. He had no identification on him, no marks,
personal badges or crests... nothing. In fact, the only thing to be
found on him at all besides his destroyed clothing was a piece of
twisted burnt wood that had been tightly clutched in one hand.
And so I waited...
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