by Ren Garcia
Silence.
Davage heard the vacuum manifolds that operated life support clunk a few decks above. He could hear the occasional muffled whooshing of a lift moving by and the indistinct droning conversations of passing crewmen, blissfully unaware of the mortal confrontation that was going on in the brig.
He could hear his intestines gurgling.
He could hear her intestines gurgling too.
Then, from far away:Tap … tap … tap-tap …
He could hear it, plain as day, all the way from the outer hull, the odd, disembodied echoing knocking sound that happened from time to time. It sounded like a fingernail knocking against the thick duraplate. It was a sound that carried a long, long way. It was just the hull plates cooling, grinding together, Lord Probert had told him once in the stark, sterile way that engineers tend to talk in, but the crew … the crew hated hearing it. They thought it was a bad omen, a sure sign of disaster to come; crewmen were always superstitious. They called it the "Hand of Vith"; other more macabre crew referred to it as "Hathaline's Calling." Captain Hathaline and her lost ship the Dart had taken on a rather Flying Dutchman-type mystique since the second Battle of Mirendra, which Dav hated.
Tap-tap … tap … tap …
"Captain Hathaline knocking on the door, waiting for Captain Davage to love her evermore …" so they sang in hushed tones.
And here dear Hath was, returned from the grave it seemed, wearing a Xaphan's Black Hat robes and a mark on her face, a murderer in a trance.
More time passed.
Come on, Hath … talk to me, he thought.
Finally, almost imperceptibly, her green eyes flicked toward the tray of food and water Davage had brought in.
Now … now was the time.
"I've only recently been informed that you were not fed in a proper or timely fashion. As captain of this ship, the fault ultimately lies with me, and I offer my most humble apologies. Should you wish to file a formal protest, I assure you your complaint will be presented to the Fleet Admiralty, where, no doubt, an investigation will be conducted at once regarding the matter."
The Black Hat said nothing.
"You should offer your complaint in writing, as is customary."
After a few more moments of silence, her eyes, hollow, glassy, and doll-like, slowly, unblinkingly moved toward Davage, regarding him for the first time. He felt his insides shudder a bit. He could feel her power, her terrible power, coiled, tense, ready to spring … ready to kill.
It was like being stared at by the Devil himself. The Devil in Hath's beautiful body.
He knew, from this moment forward, that he was in mortal combat with this Black Hat. It wasn't a battle of fists or weapons or starships but of words and ideas.
He knew his life hung on a thread.
Slowly, quietly, she spoke in a malevolent whisper.
"… your name …"
"My name? Certainly; I am Captain Davage, Lord of Blanchefort. Well met, ma'am. And might I ask your name?"
The Black Hat fell silent, her eyes still regarding him, trying to make sense of this situation.
She spoke again. "… What do you want ..."
Davage smiled. "What do I want? Why, I just told you what I want. I want to know your name."
Silence.
"And I am certain that, should you so choose, you could tell me exactly what I want. You could probably tell me things that I want that I am not yet aware of wanting myself. You are, after all, a Black Hat."
The Black Hat, her eyes fixed now on Davage, rustled slightly. "… I am confident, should I use any of my powers, the Sisters will put an end to me … Is that not right?"
"The Sisters? Yes, well, they are understandably apprehensive. However, as I have previously mentioned, I am the captain of this ship. There will be no executions here without my authorization. I have authorized no executions so far today."
Davage observed the Black Hat. She seemed puzzled. "You seek information then … you will receive none …."
"I do seek information; I wish to know your name."
The Black Hat looked off into the distance again. Clearly, she had no idea what to make of this.
Davage smiled, and he locked his eyes with hers. "I have begun this meeting honestly with a sincere apology regarding the lack of civility shown to you. I then asked you your name, again, as a matter of honest interest. I shall continue to be honest. I have allowed you to live because you happen to resemble a person very dear to me."
He looked at the black bow sitting in her hair. Hath would never have worn such a thing.
The Black Hat now seemed genuinely puzzled. "… I do not understand …"
"And I suppose that all we know of you are stories—ones we ourselves created. Fanciful tales really and none too flattering—that you are evil, unrepentant, heartless, cruel, and despotic, without an ounce of good in you. That you bathe in darkness, revel in mayhems and destruction, and…"
"Your stories are correct. I am evil, heartless … pitiless, and live only to spite the League .…"
She paused for a moment and continued. Davage listened. "I have killed thousands in battle, and I have killed thousands more simply because I felt like it, and I am going to kill you, Davage, Lord of Blanchefort …. You will not leave here alive. I feel like killing you …."
"Indeed …"
"I know that when I commence to murdering you, the Sisters will attempt to stop me. They will be successful in killing me, but not until you are dead …"
"Most distressing."
"… and when I am dead, I will seize your glowing, stainless soul and drag it down to hell with me …. We shall spend eternity together … locked in combat…"
"Hmmm. How are you going to do me in? Are you going to Waft me outside the ship, into the empty belly of space?"
"The Sisters will Waft you back in …."
"I see. Then you will be dead and for nothing, as the Hospitalers will resuscitate me. Will you then crush my skull with the Mass, break it like a walnut shell?"
"Such an action takes too long. Again, the Sisters shall kill me before I could …"
"Before you could complete the Mass operation, yes. You could Dirge me to shoot myself in the head."
"The uttering of the Dirge brings the Sisters …."
"How about the dreaded Point?" he asked.
"No, no …. The Point will take …"
"Yes, yes, and on and on. It seems you're in quite the predicament. You wish to kill me and drag my soul to hell, where we can fight each other for all eternity, yet most of the more spectacular deaths you could effect upon me take a bit more time than the Sisters will give you."
The Black Hat rustled on the bench. She seemed to be in some discomfort.
"You speak bravely …. Would it be so, I wonder, without the Sisters here to protect you from me …. " Her voice was like whispered ice.
Davage stood up. "Ma'am, I have never said that I am not respectful of your power. I know full well that you could kill me with only a moment's notice and probably without a second thought."
Suddenly, Davage leaned very close to her—close enough to smell her breath. She seemed surprised, mortified even.
"And that's exactly what I wish to discover here—if there is that second thought rolling around in your mighty head somewhere."
Davage left the cell. "Eat, please, drink or not. 'Tis up to you. More will be brought later regardless."
"Exit this chamber, Lord of Blanchefort, and you die …" she said with a sneer.
She stared hard at him, her green eyes piercing and utterly evil. "You … sir … are not going anywhere."
She regarded him for a moment and cracked a small, wicked smile. "You came here, all on your own … to 'talk' to me … to 'brighten' my day … how nice. So, League Fleet Captain … here I am … talk! Cheer me up … and make it good … your life depends on it …." Her voice became a growl. "But be warned … Should you grow stale … should you bore or annoy me … the trap will shut … an
d you will die."
Davage doffed his hat. "Good meal, ma'am."
"Sit down!" she said in a commanding, wicked voice. "Have some food … and start talking …."
Davage, his insides roiling, knew he had to leave—it was leave now or never leave alive. He tipped his hat. "I like that bow in your hair, ma'am. It suits you fine." He then walked from the brig and back outside.
Before the door closed, he heard her say, "See you soon … love …"
There waiting for him was an exhausted Kilos and several Sisters. All seemed astonished that Davage was alive. Kilos holstered her SK pistol and embraced him roughly.
"What a bloody idiot you are, Dav," she said into his shoulder.
"Good to see you too, Ki. Good Creation, she looks like Captain Hathaline—have you seen her, Ki?"
"I haven't. Is that why you wanted to go in there?"
"Yes."
The Sisters also appeared to be glad to see him alive; they smiled, chattered silently amongst themselves, and lightly patted him on the shoulder.
Davage looked back at the brig and Sighted through the walls.
"Well, did you discover what you were looking for?" Ki asked.
Davage peered through the walls of the brig. He could see the Black Hat, alone once more, sitting there trying, apparently unsuccessfully, to assess what had just happened. She lightly touched the bow in her hair with her right hand.
She looked at the door to the brig.
After a moment, he saw her scoot a bit closer to the tray of food. Slowly, with measured grace, the Black Hat began eating, wiping her lips with a napkin after every dainty bite.
"No, Kilos … but I think I am close."
Several more Sisters, followed by two Marines, came into the brig's outer chamber. They Sighted through the walls.
They turned to the Marine.
"Sygillis of Metatron," the Marine said dryly, writing it down in his view pad.
"Hammer."
5
BREAKING THE CLUTCH
After a long, strange day and a tiring session of paperwork, Davage finally settled to bed. Not a night owl per se like Lt. Kilos, who was rarely if ever in her rack, he nevertheless usually got no more than a few hours of sleep a night. His duties were ongoing. But today, he was exhausted, his eyelids closing by themselves as he sat at his desk.
He was so tired after his visit to the brig. Sitting there in front of the Black Hat had taken all of his energy. Afterwards, for the rest of the day, he kept seeing things, and that was unusual for an Elder with the Sight. Must be his imagination, he guessed. He saw shadows and indistinct shapes in the corridors, on the bridge, in the mess. He'd see a hand going for his throat and a lurking shape following him, pursuing him—laughing at him.
He'd Sight, his eyes flashing, panning around, and there was nothing there. He Sighted the Black Hat once or twice; there she was, sitting in the brig in a trance with Hathaline's beautiful face pulled back in a grimace.
He finally finished his paperwork and crawled into his huge and oft-neglected bed for a few hours of rest. Sleep quickly overcame him, and he began to dream.
His dream went out of control almost at once.
He dreamt of the Black Hat, Sygillis of Metatron. She stood in front of him in his dream wearing her scarlet robe and her featureless Black Hat sash, her face hidden behind it. Her gloved ebon hands clenched into savage claws.
And then the dream came to life.
"I am here with you, Lord of Blanchefort. Welcome," she said in a malicious voice. "I've been waiting for you."
He looked around. He was in a dark place—a sort of black churchyard with many walls, passages, and alcoves all around. Black spires and steeples clawed their way up to a vaulted, bitter sky of angry clouds. The Black Hat stood there mocking him in the distance.
"What did you think, you arrogant League Lord?" she asked in an icy whisper. "That you could simply come and go from my presence as you please? You foolishly came to me, and I became interested in you, Captain. I followed you back, like a deadly spider sitting unnoticed on your shoulder. I was patient, I waited all day for you, but every so often I gave you a little tickle, just to let you know that I was there. Now here we are, just the two of us."
Davage tried to move but was locked in place. "This is just a dream," he said.
"Yes," the Black Hat said. "Just a dream. You dream, I dream … our minds wrapped together. Here we may have a bit of privacy, you and I. Here our dreams become very, very real."
The Black Hat waved at him with her claws. "And here, in this dreamscape, I am going to kill you."
Davage clutched his head. "I could call the Sisters. I could cry out for them."
"What's the matter, Fleet Captain, are you scared? Scared of a tiny little person like me? This is a game, and I insist we play it to the finish." She bowed slightly. "Therefore, I've an offer to make to you."
Davage turned to his right. A corridor trailed away. Struggling, his legs like lead, he went down it.
"Well?" her voice echoed from behind. "Care you to hear my offer?"
Davage reached a dead end. He Sighted. He couldn't see through; his Sight didn't work. He felt very alone without it. "Fine then," he said. "What is your offer?"
"I offer you your crew, sir. We will fight here, you and I. We will battle to the death, and regardless of the outcome, I will not blow myself up and take half your ship with me. I could do a lot of damage in the brig. You know I could. Fight me, and I will spare your crew. That is my offer. Choose not to fight—choose to seek the Sisters—and your ship sinks in a spray of my bones and my guts. What say you?"
"The Sisters will not allow you to sink the ship."
"I'd not be able to build up as large of a Shadow tech charge as I wish before they became aware of what I was doing, that is true, but still … I'll make a rather large hole regardless."
Davage shook his head. "I do not wish to kill you," he said. "I want to help you."
"Help me? I need no help. A noble if foolish sentiment. Regardless of what you wish, I greatly wish to kill you, and if you do not fight me, I will ruinously damage your ship."
"I how can I trust you'll keep your word?" he asked.
"You cannot … yet, I speak truthfully when I say yours is the only soul I want to claim. Yours is the only life I wish to take. The rest are worthless. Useless!"
"I've nothing to fight with. I am unarmed."
His CARG appeared in front of him, coppery in the dark, and his MiMs too and gun belt on the ground. "Here are your weapons and your Gifts. I give them back to you. In this shadowy place, you can do everything you can in the real world … and so can I. Though this be naught but a dream landscape, to us it is very real. We will face each other, your power against mine. The winner walks away; the loser dies."
Davage strapped on his gun belt and picked up his CARG and closed his eyes. He felt his Sight returning to him, and that made him feel a bit better. "We needn't do this. I was trying to be civil—to offer you a bit of courtesy."
"And I thank you. I will remember you fondly. And never fear, we will be seeing each other again soon in hell. The Sisters will be very angry when they see what I've done to you … when they find you dead. They will tear me apart. They will feast upon my flesh. Ha! Let them—I'll have you, nevertheless."
The sky overhead became turbid and fierce. Davage held his CARG at the ready.
She looked at him and, in a mocking gesture, imitated his guard with a similar stance. So short, clad in her scarlet robe, she looked like an ancient fire plug.
She Wafted in a blast of wind and vanished. He lit his Low Sight and whirled around.
"I was hoping to find good in you," he called out into the air, "to know why you are so angry!" he shouted.
She appeared behind him. He put the horn of his CARG on her neck. Tenderly, she reached up and touched its length with her black gloved hands.
"Anger, sir, is all I know. Hate, sir, is all I feel."
"That
isn't how it has to be. What sort of life is that? Let me help you!"
He reached out to her, and she recoiled in surprise for a moment. She tipped her sashed head to one side. "You are such a kind man," she said softly. She ran her fingers up and down the length of his CARG. "So kind …" Slowly, Shadow tech claws grew out of her fingers. Grabbing on, she stroked the length of the CARG. "Let me pleasure you," she said as her claws grew and grew until they were two feet long, their undulating black blades sparking against the surface of the CARG.