Variant Chapter 1 The ship was shaking. Claud d'Ark didn't know the specifics of how a Rareza drive worked, but he knew that he hated it. The jolting and random shuddering of the ship was rubbing his still painful wounds the wrong way, and it prevented him from getting any sleep for the whole 24 hour trip. Trip... That makes it sound so pleasant. 'Hey, Ark, how was your trip?' 'Oh, it was quite enjoyable! I brought you a souvenir, look!' I wish... Ark glanced around the badly-lit, cramped cabin. It was a simple square with seats built directly into the wall, and all of them were filled. Some of the variants looked outlandish; one boy had a bright mohawk, though Ark couldn't tell exactly what color with the lighting and distance. Every face he could see was either nervous, frightened, gloomy, or blank. Not one variant looked even vaguely happy to be there. And that only makes sense. This isn't anything to be happy about. He found himself staring at the girl next to him. She had red-gold-brown hair, freckles, and the most annoyed look he'd ever seen on her face. Her eyes abruptly locked onto his and he was taken aback, but he couldn't stop staring. She slightly inclined her head and spoke. "What's your rank?" she asked firmly. Ark had never heard a firm question, but it was the only word he could use to describe it. "rM-IV," he managed to say. She can't be older than 16... What's wrong with me? She dignified his answer with a "Hmm." and turned her eyes back to staring at the other side of the cabin. "What's yours?" Ark asked, having regained some confidence with the absence of her stare. She didn't even look at him. He sat awkwardly for a few moments before he spoke up again. "Can you at least tell me your name?" "Aena," she said. She glanced back at him briefly, then resumed her human-wall staring contest. "I'm Ark. Nice to meet--" Ark was interrupted by the swish of the cabin's only door. A stern-looking soldier stepped in, and the few hushed whispers in the cabin faded away. "We will be touching down on New Caligulus in one hour. The crew, the captain, and the Empire would like to thank you all once more for your compliance." The soldier cleared his throat and looked around the cabin. His face softened, and Ark realized that he looked...scared? "The captain has requested to see a medical variant. Which of you has the highest rank?" Ark again glanced at all the faces around the cabin. Nobody was volunteering. "By requested," the soldier's face hardened again, "I mean demanded. Speak up, or I'll go check the records." Ark sighed and stood up. "I'm a IV. Will I do?" The soldier nodded and turned to leave. Ark followed him, glancing back at Aena before the door swished shut. ---------------------------------------- Ark was surprised upon reaching the bridge. He was prepared to meet an obscure captain and heal whatever needed healed. He was not prepared to see the face that had been featured in every major piece of military propoganda since before he was born. "Boy, you have about 15 seconds to heal this cut, or we're tossing you," Atlanticus Caesar demanded sternly. Ark quickly inspected the proffered arm and found said cut on the inside of the Caesar's elbow. He was shocked at how deep it was. "Caesar, sir, what happened? I mean, this is serious!" The Caesar glared at him, his graying beard wrapped around his frown. "Know your place, boy. 10 seconds." Ark wasted no time. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through the air above the cut. When it had passed over, red tendrils rose from the cut and twisted together into a braid. Ark, the Caesar, and the officers watched raptly as the braid curled up and filled in the cut. Skin grew rapidly and covered the wound seamlessly. The Caesar touched the spot gingerly and then flexed his arm before rolling his sleeve over it. "Take him back to the others," he spoke without a second glance at Ark. The same soldier who brought him escorted him out of the room. "It won't be much longer until we don't--" was all Ark heard before the door swished. ---------------------------------------- The rest of the hour was quiet. The cabin's air seemed full of anticipation, as even those who were depressed earlier began to perk up at the thought of fresh air. Ark had to admit, it had started to seem more like an adventure than a death march. He glanced around the cabin after a crew member told them of their impending arrival planetside. The shuddering and jerking of the ship had stopped; they were using normal thrusters, so they were almost there. He caught a few stares, way more than last time. Should I have been a little more reserved? Maybe Aena's got the right idea... I heard it's ruthless here. And now everyone knows I'm a worthless medic. Ark mentally swore at himself. Finally, the ship lurched, a sign of landing. "All of you, follow me." Ark had missed the door swish that had signalled a rather decorated officer's arrival. The variants slowly rose to their feet and crowded through the door and down the halls to a much larger room. There was already another group in the room, even more outlandish than Ark's. He spied a little girl with scars on her face, and a surprisingly old man with a ponytail wrapped around his neck. He remembered with a grimace that he too was wearing the simple gray outfit assigned to all of the variants. And he realized with a shock that it was his only worldly possession now. It's really a new life. Just way more dangerous. He was playing with his shirt collar when the bay's wall, or door, he supposed, opened with a metallic grinding noise. ---------------------------------------- Bastion was out and about, which garnered quite a bit of attention. He was a veteran of New Caligulus, practically a legend. A survivor, some would say. But he, as usual, was out to watch the new variants arrive. He wasn't flashy about it; flashy wasn't his style. Other people, though, didn't have the same sense of caution. He stared at two of them from the shade of the tree he leaned against. Griffin, possibly his most dangerous rival, had scared off all the newer variants, or "settlers", with a fireworks show. Two charred corpses were the only things closer to the ship than she was. Meanwhile, the less stupid (for Bastion equated flashiness with stupidity), but more insufferable (for Bastion equated misguided acts of kindness with annoyingness) of the two stood by the closest building not made of wood. He stood next to the door with the most annoying smile Bastion could imagine plastered across his face. Jordan Davenport... Bastion thought with a mental sneer. The Romans' lapdog. Bastion almost laughed. The pioneers, some of the first variants to set foot on New Caligulus, sitting around hoping to snag some settlers for their cause. Choose well. Bastion thought as the shuttle's bay door opened. ----------------------------------------
Re: Variant Chapter 2 Part A Ark squinted as his tired, maladjusted eyes were hit with the bright sunshine of New Caligulus. It wasn't what he had expected, but, then again, he hadn't known what to expect. The patchy-grassed terrain, few trees, small crowd, and dull, grey, metallic two-story building were entirely unconceived of though, so he found them quite pleasant. Ark looked around and realized that he had lost Aena somewhere along the way. None of the variants had actually left the shuttle yet, so he knew she was somewhere nearby. "Excited?" someone asked from behind him. Ark spun, caught off guard, and quickly determined the speaker to be a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, possibly insane boy. He stared at Ark, smiling hugely, and almost bouncing up and down with what was either anticipation or madness. "I guess, yeah." Ark tried to recognize him, but failed. And it looked like the grin was etched on his face, so he definitely wasn't in his group. "What's your name?" "Luke! Nice to meet ya!" "I'm Claud. Or Ark, your call. You too." Ark smiled and shook his hand; his happiness seemed to be infectious. "Ready to finally get off this thing?" "We've only been here a few minutes!" Luke laughed, which creeped Ark out a little more. "I haven't even gotten to look around the ship!" "A few minutes? It's been a day." Clearly, somebody's insane. Ark was startled again by another voice, this one from his side. The girl with the scars was standing next to him, looking...scary. Ark was actually frightened of her, and she couldn't be a teenager yet. "Well, you're no threat, then. Any variant of consequence was put to sleep for the whole trip." She sounded almost condescending... Ark assumed her to be one of these variants of consequence. "Yep, yep, that's me!" Luke barked out a laugh and put his hands behind his head nonchalantly. Ark paled and looked resolutely forward. "rP-II, yeah!" So he's crazy, she's scary, and either of 'em can kill me in a second. Ark shuddered and regained his bearing. The officer who'd brought them there provided a welcome distraction by speaking up. "All of you should report to Jordan Davenport and the management building. The Empire would like to remind you that it is a criminal offense to neglect your assigned duties. This is where we leave you. Good luck and good bye." The officer didn't even stop for a moment. He finished his speech and simply walked back into the hallway from whence they came. The crowd of variants stood still for a moment, unsure of the new freedom they had obtained. Then Luke laughed and pushed through the crowd until he was at the front and jumped onto the planet, and the silence was broken. Variants began to stream off of the shuttle, and Ark was swept along with them. The flow was uneven; before he knew it, he was next to Aena once more. They wordlessly looked at each other as they were hustled off the ship. The crowd spread out once they were outside; Ark found himself walking unmolested towards the management building and...Davenport, if he remembered correctly. Farther ahead he could see some new faces, variants who had been here for, it seemed, quite a while. And then there were gunshots. ----------------------------------------
Re: Variant Chapter 2 Part B Jordan Davenport was going to die. Nobody knew this, and Jordan Davenport expected to live for quite a while longer. He was, after all, only 23 years old. And though New Caligulus was a dangerous place, he was confident enough in his skill at surviving. But none of that mattered; he was going to die. And as the wave of settlers came in, as he stood, smiling, as he envisioned the future of the planet and its inhabitants, his death crept closer and closer. "There are less than last time," Katrin noted sadly. Jordan had seen it too. "The Empire's almost got us all here, then," he observed. "Can't be many more shuttles coming." He grinned. "Listen, Mr. Davenport--" "Katrin, we've been working together for 3 years. Jor-dan." Katrin laughed at the routine, as Jordan knew she would. Katrin was dependable like that; there was never a lack of smiles on his face when she was around. "Jordan," she drew his name out with the Teutonic accent that he so loved to hear, "I wanted to tell you that I'm worried. We can't control Bastion, and the stronger he gets, the more settlers realize they can join him and do whatever the hell they want." Katrin blushed. "What...whatever they want," she corrected herself. "You're so cute when you swear!" Jordan laughed. "Don't worry, I have a good feeling about this group!" They both knew he said that every time. But, as usual, they both hoped for the best. ---------------------------------------- Bastion finished his head count of the settlers. Less than 200 this time... It's now or never, then. He strode determinedly towards the management building and pulled a handgun out from under his coat. ---------------------------------------- Jordan turned his head to the left, just in time to catch Bastion levelling his gun at him. He didn't have the time to wonder why; he grabbed Katrin, pulled her close, and, with a thought, surrounded them with a column of rock. Gunshots rang out; shouts followed, and Jordan felt the impact of 4 bullets in his shield, all precisely placed in the same spot. "Keep the settlers away, I'll take care of Bastion!" Jordan put his hand on his rock shield and it extended, shooting out of the ground in a wave, to form a wall. Katrin nodded and ran towards the settlers, followed by some of their subordinates. Jordan shattered his part of the wall in time to see Bastion taking a variance-powered leap at him. He spun the earth underneath his feet, grabbed one of the jagged pieces with both hands, and threw it at him with the full force of the spin. Bastion, as expected, brushed the shard aside before it reached him, then pushed himself down and to the side, firing at Jordan all the way. Jordan was already on the move; he used the tread technique to rapidly slide to Bastion's projected landing spot, blocking the bullets easily. Bastion slipped the gun back into its holster and collided with Davenport with a spinning kick. Jordan was familiar with Bastion's kick-oriented fighting, though, and had his arm ready to block. Bastion's motion was temporarily halted, so he summoned a spire of rock from the ground to impale him. But Bastion kicked off of him and pushed himself away unharmed. Jordan figured that most villians would, at this point, elaborate on their motives. Not Bastion, though. Chances were, he'd never find out why he had chosen this time to attack him so openly. He was called the Silent One for a reason, after all. But he didn't have much time to think; the second Bastion hit the ground, he was pressing his attack again. ---------------------------------------- Ark was surrounded by confusion. After the shooting started, all hell broke loose. Variants were tripping over each other; some to get away from the conflict, others to get a better view. He was one of the latter group, and it seemed as if Aena was too. They pushed through the hysterical crowd until they were as near as they were going to get. A small group of people were containing the crowd, apparently, but they were close enough to see clearly. Ark could now see what looked like the results of an earthquake; a 6-foot-high rough stone wall, hunks of rock scattered across the field, and a few pointed spears thrusting up at the sky. And amongst it all, two men were fighting with a ferocity that scared him. An Ethiope with jet-black hair and a grim grin seemed to be responsible for all the silicon remnants. Ark watched as he once again attempted to spear his opponent with the earth. Said opponent was an imposing man with brown hair and dark clothing, who seemed untouchable. An atmospheric variant... Ark noted as he moved impossibly through the air to avoid the other man's attack. They continued to clash, and Ark wondered how neither of them had managed to hit the other. He soon didn't have to; the atmospheric variant, apparently capitalizing on an opening, pulled a gun from inside his coat and shot the other man. It went downhill from there. ---------------------------------------- Jordan grimaced; the grin had been wiped off his face. The shot was all Bastion needed. Now he wasn't so sure he could take him hand-to-hand, and that, combined with his new-found pain, was giving Bastion countless openings. Jordan contemplated his armor trick, but realized that Bastion would have no problem attacking while it formed around him. Not to mention how slow he would be moving...no, that wouldn't work. While he uselessly thought of a way to win, Bastion found yet another opening, and delivered a series of fierce, wind-assisted kicks. This sent him tumbling away, and before he could get up, Bastion was next to him, gun in hand. Jordan panted and stared up at him from his knees. He assessed his options, but none of them were good. Then, he wondered why. "You're worried, aren't you?" he asked, voice steady, breath heavy. "You know that there won't be many more settlers coming in, and you don't want to risk losing your superiority." "..." Bastion stared at him. "You're half correct." Jordan looked down at the ground for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he looked for Katrin. She was staring at him, on her knees as well, no longer paying attention to the hushed crowd. "So, you think my replacement will be...less effective?" Jordan turned back to Bastion, smirk on his face. I think I can make this work... "She can't stomach leadership. I cut off the head, and the heart pumps the blood right out," Bastion said tonelessly. "I love her, so maybe I'm a bit biased.... But you're wrong. If...when you kill me, your enemies will be heartless." Jordan looked at Katrin again and smiled. "Tell me, O Silent One... Are you sure you want to risk it?" Bastion stared at him for a moment, and Jordan wondered if his plan had worked. He looked at Katrin for the last time. She was smiling too; she must have figured out his ploy. She's the girl I love. How could I not be confident in-- ---------------------------------------- Jordan Davenport died a quite painful, if silent, death. As Bastion contemplated pulling the trigger and what it would mean for all the inhabitants of New Caligulus, Griffin took action. Before anybody knew what was happening, she was too close to be stopped. From behind Bastion came a thin jet of white-hot flame; it hit the ground in front of Davenport and rebounded in an uncontrollable, furious wave that entirely engulfed the kneeling man. Bastion lowered his gun and watched, silently, expressionlessly, as he died. Griffin continued to burn him until she stood next to Bastion. She stopped the flow of fire from her hand and grinned at him, sharpened teeth bared menacingly. "Catch you around, Bast," she said with a wink. She walked away, stepping over the blackened corpse of Jordan Davenport. Bastion turned to face the stunned crowd. Some of them were expressionless. Others confused. Good. "This is what happens when you serve the Romans. You work for them, you bleed for them, you die for them, and what do they do? They put you in prison, they send you to prepare them a planet, and they promise you a scrap of it. This planet is ours. Why settle for a piece? "If you agree, if you are sick of being under humans, come find me. If you still want to serve them, you will burn." Bastion gave the corpse a final look before leaping away with a smile on his face. Could things have worked out any better? ---------------------------------------- Ark watched as a blonde-haired girl staggered out to the corpse lying in the field and felt...he didn't know what he felt. As she dropped to her knees next to him, he realized that he was feeling too many things to express with one word. Aena started to walk away. Ark turned and caught up with her. "Aena, you're not really thinking of finding that guy, are you? You can't really be considering that!" She turned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "No, I'm not. For every story told, there's another that needs telling," she responded. Ark stopped walking. "What? What are you talking about?" She turned around and walked backwards. "I'm going to find the other story." She turned around again and continued to walk away. Ark stared at her, but turned around and walked back towards the management building. As he got closer to where the fight had taken place, he picked Luke out from among the crowd that surrounded Jordan Davenport's remains. He stood next to him and stared blankly into the backs of the variants in front of him. "He didn't make a sound," Luke spoke up, uncharacteristically somber. "Not a ****ing sound. He knew that girl was watching." Ark realized with a shock that he was right. "A man like that...he had to be doing the right thing. I want to help," he said determinedly. "...yeah. Me too." Ark looked around. Aena was almost out of sight; she was entering a grove of trees, probably the start of a forest. A good number of variants were actually heading in the same direction as the man who had spoken. And a few were even...Ark shuddered at the thought...walking after the girl who killed the silicon variant. Among them he spotted the scary scar girl. Claud d'Ark tightened his fists and steeled himself. What a frightening place. ----------------------------------------
Chapter 3 Part A The entire management building was filled with the awkward tension that only friends and non-acquaintances of the recently deceased being forced into close quarters could provide. Ark sat in a room filled with 25 or so new variants and one on-the-verge-of-crying, blonde-haired woman. They sat, awkward and sympathetic, as she prepared to speak. "I am very happy to see all of you here." Her accent, combined with her tone... Ark couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "I want to reassure you all that you made the right decision, but I also want to be honest. "I can't insure your safety anymore, it seems. But Jordan...Jordan would say 'I'll protect you.' So I'll try my hardest to." She paused for a moment and shuffled her notes. "First of all, does anyone know any of our duties?" she asked. A hand must have gone up behind him, because Katrin nodded and said, "Go ahead." "Well, somebody has to...make food and stuff, right? I assume that's us," a girl ventured. "Very good, yes," Katrin said with a nod. "We are responsible for both growing food and raising livestock. The Empire often supplements us with more animals and essential goods, and less vital ones can be purchased with your pay. Some of you will definitely be assigned to farm duty. What else?" "Who manages everything? Are there any Romans on the planet?" "Good question." Katrin sniffled and paused. "We are in charge of most of the planetside operations. We've expanded to form other settlements; Rubicon and Cysteine, to name a few. "Unfortunately... some of our settlements have been overrun by those..." Katrin made a face, and Ark averted his eyes. "If you're assigned to any of these areas, be careful. Especially Pompalla and Tiberius." "So, we just let them take over our towns like that?" "That brings us to our next duty: the policing of townships. Some of you will actually, with luck or skill, be chosen to help with this. Griffin," she said the name in such a way that even her voice couldn't make it sound beautiful, "and the Rebellion both cause problems, but Bastion is our main concern. "I doubt that many, if any, of you will be assigned to strategic combat unit, but they are charged with hunting down rogue variants, any follower of Bastion's or Griffin's." "Surely there are other things," Ark spoke up. "What about building and stuff, who does that?" "We have all other positions filled. You're all some of the last settlers to arrive, most of the work has been done." "So, these are the only assignments we can get?" Ark realized, quite suddenly, how close he was in his front-row seat. "Well, there's one more," Katrin said with a smile. For some reason, it didn't look like it belonged on her face. Ark noted that it was the first time he'd seen her smile. In fact, it didn't even look like she had been crying. "Does anybody have a guess as to what it is?" Katrin asked, practically beaming. A shadow moved in the corner of Ark's vision; the recruit next to him must have raised his hand. Fear siezed him, though he had no idea why. He turned his head, but it was moving so slowly... "Yes, Jordan? Speak up!" Ark's eyes came to rest on the charred, mutilated corpse of Jordan Davenport. He found himself unable to react as he reached out a disfigured hand and grabbed his face. His breathing sped up, and he saw, through the gaps in Davenport's fingers, Katrin crying again, tears pouring past her fetching smile. "We have a duty," he said in a gravelly, echoing voice, "to die." And suddenly he was on fire, white and searing, and Ark was too, and he screamed, and Katrin giggled...... The entire management building was filled with the awkward tension that only friends and non-acquaintances of the recently deceased being forced into close quarters could provide. Ark sat in a room filled with 25 or so new variants and one on-the-verge-of-crying, blonde-haired woman. They sat, awkward and sympathetic, as she prepared to speak. ---------------------------------------- Meanwhile, outside of Morpheus' domain, Aaron Syun was knocking on the door that seperated him from Bastion's quarters. It was not a timid knock; he didn't have the patience for timidity. Neither did Bastion. "Lieutenant. Come in." Aaron did so, and was met with the familiar sight of Bastion sitting behind his meticulous iron desk, fingers steepled in front of his face. "Did the briefing go well?" "Yes, of course. But... the turnout was worse than expected." Bastion's slight grimace intensified. "How much worse?" Aaron set his report in front of Bastion. "14 rI and II. 47 rIII-V." Aaron frowned as Bastion's breathing became more even, more measured. An average turnout. Less than average, in fact. He can't be pleased. "Assign 10 group A and 20 group B to Pisacis. I'll handle the rest later." Bastion grabbed a pen and began to fill out assignment sheets. Aaron tried to explain the decision to himself, but couldn't. Whatever. He knows what he's doing... Well, better than anyone else does. He turned and exited the room, closing the door with a hardly-audible click. ----------------------------------------