Starsworn Saga

Kyle’s senses were assaulted by a kaleidoscope of colors, shapes, and sounds.  He could feel a rush of mana around them – but before he could get a better grasp of what was happening everything stopped with a crash.  Kyle felt disoriented, with a deep sense of nausea as he fought to stay standing.  The man who pressed the button was in the process of getting violently ill on the ground next to him. 

[DR. MAYHEW, THE PATIENT DID NOT PROVIDE ANY MEDICAL RECORDS.  WHEN HE DOES, PLEASE INFORM HIM HE’S SUFFERING ILL EFFECTS FROM DISRUPTIONS OF HIS INNER EAR.] 

Kyle smiled despite himself that C.H.A.D.D. was still its usual self, despite the damage that it had taken.  While the man continued to retch, Kyle took a look at his long-time companion.  The drone had nearly half a dozen holes punched through its hull, and the array that allowed it to float had been severely damaged.  Kyle wasn’t sure if the damage was reparable, but shoved the worry he was feeling to the back of his mind as he tried to gain his bearings. 

Looking around, he saw that they were standing in what had likely been the town square of a small city, in each direction he looked he saw an earthen wall that rose above the modest buildings that were still standing.  There were multiple onlookers, all wearing the same mottled grey and black combat fatigues.  He saw a blur of activity as they sprang into action.  Kyle saw some of the men running towards the entrance of a squat, sturdy looking building nearby, while others ran towards the perimeter of the town. 
Ultimately, Kyle didn’t see anybody acting with hostility towards him, even though a group of armed soldiers were keeping watch at a safe distance.  Finally, Kyle turned his attention towards the man at his side. 

Resting a hand on his arm, Kyle used HEAL to work on the damaged limb.  The bones were shattered, and the muscles severely torn.  Left on its own this injury would have taken months to recover, even for an awakened.  The man sat back, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his combat jacket. 

“You’re a bloody Healer.  That’s some luck on my end,” the man said, spitting on the ground again. 

“Name’s Cornelius, by the way.” 

Kyle didn’t look up from treating the arm, but nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Kyle Mayhew.  Thanks for your help getting me out of that mess, it wasn’t looking good.  Now hold still, I want to make sure the bones fuse properly.” 

A small group had gathered around them as Kyle worked, C.H.A.D.D. helpfully providing guidance.  While C.H.A.D.D.’s scanners were still functional, its projection array was damaged, only allowing for vague highlights instead of the usual high-quality visuals. 

“That little bugger’s worth its weight in gold.”

Cornelius remarked some time later, stretching his recovered right arm. 

“One less thing for Valentine to be pissed about.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, Cornelius.  I think there’s still plenty.” 

The hard voice came from behind them, and Kyle whirled to face its source.  He was staring at an old man with an athletic build, standing casually with his arms crossed.  His face was like worn leather, with a large grey handlebar moustache.  He wore a rapier on one hip and a dagger on the other.  Cornelius scrambled to his feet and faced the man, raising his healed right arm to his head in a salute. 

“Sir, I meant no disrespect.  When I got to Skull territory with my unit things were getting out of control, so I had to improvise.  Me and Mayhew got out safe, and I thought that would be worth the cost, sir.”

With his unit? Kyle was confused.  And what does he mean by cost?

“Improvisation and using one of our most valuable resources on a gamble are two very different things, Cornelius.  But that conversation can wait.” 

The stranger fixed his steely gaze on Kyle, who couldn’t help but flinch. 

“You must be Kyle Mayhew.  I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.  Come on, let’s get you something to eat and drink before we talk.” 

With that, he turned away and walked towards the door of the stout building.  The whole interaction was surreal to Kyle, and before he knew it he was walking through the door behind the old man.  They walked in silence down some stairs and through austere halls, and Kyle felt an odd sense of déjà vu.  I know I’ve never been here, but this whole thing feels too familiar. 

Before he could continue his thought, they arrived at a large conference room.  The old man walked across to a nearby desk and settled in, gesturing for Kyle to sit across from him.  Kyle did, and barely a moment later a young man came with glasses of water and a plate that carried a sandwich on rough, crusty bread.  Kyle’s mouth watered as he looked at the piled meat and cheese on the bread, but he held himself back. 

“You know, you don’t have to keep carrying that thing.” 

The man’s words interrupted Kyle from his sandwich-induced daydream, and he realized with a start that he was still holding onto C.H.A.D.D.  It almost felt wrong to put the drone down, but the temptation was too strong.  He set the drone on the chair next to him, and began to dig into the food. 

It had been so long since he’d had real food, and it nearly brought a tear to his eyes.  Something as simple as a sandwich felt so… normal. In a moment of horror, he realized he had started eating without a thought, but when he looked up at his host he saw the other man tearing into his food with equal gusto.  Hunger won out once again as he turned his attention back to his plate. 

Only once both sandwiches were devoured did their eyes meet, and the older man broke the quiet. 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Kyle, and I’ll do my best to answer them.  Like the meathead who brought you here said, my name is Gregory Valentine.  As I’m sure you surmised, I’m in charge here.  And because I don’t do the political garbage, I’ll be up front with it.  I’ve heard about you, and I want you to work for me.  There are plenty of details to figure out, but I know there’s room for an awakened like you in my inner circle.  That said, what you want to know?”

 Kyle physically rocked back, not expecting the conversation to take this sort of a turn.  Valentine stared at him with expectant eyes, and looking at the man’s scarred face he couldn’t help but be reminded of his grandfather. 

[DR. MAYHEW, GREGORY VALENTINE IS ON A LIST INELIGIBLE FOR TREATMENT BY CENTRAL AUTHORITY EDICT.  BE ADVISED THAT PROVIDING MEDICAL SERVICES OR RECORDS TO THIS INDIVIDUAL IS PUNISHABLE BY DISCIPLINARY ACTION, AND POSSIBLE FORFEITURE OF YOUR MEDICAL LICENSE.] 

C.H.A.D.D.’s outburst startled both men, and to Kyle’s surprise Valentine burst out laughing.  He continued to laugh for over a minute, finally getting control of himself as he wiped the tears off his cheeks. 

“It’s the end of the world, and Central Health is threatening to fire you for talking to me.  That’s a riot!  Though I suppose that’s also probably where we should start, even though you didn’t ask the question.  Your little friend there is correct – working with me will put you on the Central Authority’s deviant list, although from what I understand you’re on it already.” 

Valentine’s grin faded, steel entering his eyes as he continued. 

“Those bastards are rotten to the core.  You and I both know it, and so did your grandfather.”

Kyle felt his mouth go dry at the mention of Clark. 

“You knew my grandpa?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“I did.  Had the pleasure of serving with him the last five years he was active.  I’m taking it you being out here alone means he didn’t make it?” 

“No.  He died saving me.” 

The guilt wasn’t as strong as before, but Kyle still felt it stab as he made the admission.  Valentine grunted before turning away, reaching into a drawer.  He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of caramel-colored liquor.  He poured a generous splash into both cups and passed one to Kyle. 

“To Clark Mayhew.  Best man I ever knew.  The world is darker for his loss.” 

Kyle toasted and drank, the scotch burning all the way down.

 

~~~

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