Under the Ice

Under the Ice

The last lines of Tackeradd's Ballad of Jonathan Rhyssa faded away into the cool, dry Cetian night and for a few seconds the audience was deathly quiet. It's always those few seconds that get to you. Will those seconds be followed by raucous applause or more of the deathly silence as your paying audience gets up and leaves? This time it went well. Applause thundered throughout the beach, drowning out even the beautiful songs of the Cetian ridesh toads. Swiftly moving my fingers with practiced ease, I manipulated the EM strings which connected me to my avatar. Out in front, as my apprentices collected donations from adoring fans, one of the most perfectly crafted h-puppets you will ever see, Captain Jonathan Rhyssa, bowed and blew kisses to the crowd, slave to my touch. It was a wonderful feeling.

Then, slowly saving Rhyssa to our company's reinforced database, I faded him out of existence and went up the four stairs onto the fragrantly carved derriswood stage. There, spread out in front of me was a crowd of people larger than any I had ever seen come to Jon R, as we in the business called it. And they loved it. A standing ovation is very rare in this line of work, but when one does occur, you feel like a nothing else can ever go wrong again. Of course, this is usually not the best feeling to have, because we in the h-puppet troupes are a superstitious bunch and any good feeling we know can bring ten times the bad luck than the good.

But for now, I was enjoying my adoring
public. All good things come to an end, however, and eventually I stopped bowing and ducked behind the curtain, allowing the applause to die down and the audience to begin filing out. Sighing, I returned to my control kiosk. The rest of the crew were slapping each other on the back and congratulating one another on a job well done. Backing up the files for the set, I closed the kiosk lid and switched it off. I grabbed the handle, real leather, it was my father's on Old Earth, and began to carry it towards our caravan. The sand of the beach was very fine, however and it took quite an effort, even with Ceti's less than standard gravity. But I made it with a minimum of exertion and slid the kiosk into its cradle. Turning back, I saw that the rest of the theatre was very quickly coming down under the skilled hands of my apprentices and the strict watch of my master lightcrafter Eylion Razis. It was a beautiful thing to watch. Curtains were carefully folded as the long aluminum poles that held them were collapsed into their carrying mode. Our most prized possession, besides the puppets, was the derriswood stage and that was split into four sections, allowing it to be stored easily for interplanetary travel. Derriswood is a special substance and very difficult to work with. Grown only on the planet Rachel Quattuor, derriswood is filled with microscopic pockets of fragrant vapors. If carved the wrong way, all of the vapors escape at once, leaving the wood as dead as if it was from Old Earth itself. But if carved correctly by a Rachelian master, it will carry its scent for hundreds of years, slowly eking the vapors inside of the wood to the outer layers. Our stage was carved by the legendary Rom'mar'Elsit, who had not only allowed the scent to remain, but had also added in many small carvings, bringing entire scenes to life. It was almost as good as our plays. Almost.

While the work on the stage was being completed, I stood and looked out over the beautiful Bay of Berias which slept quietly under the blanket of stunning Cetian stars. Straight above us, one of Ceti's four moons gleamed brightly, giving almost enough light for us not to need glo-orbs and, helping to strengthen the atmosphere of mystery, the famous ridesh toads sung their subtle, ancient songs of courtship. I was thoroughly enjoying this scene, but eventually Eylion approached me saying that it was time to leave if we were going to catch the 1:80 'vator from the port near the center of Ceti's capitol city. I sighed, feeling the emotion of the moment drain away, and then swung myself into the cab of our caravan, next to Eylion who, as usual, claimed the driver's side. Grumbling, I nodded at him and soon the EM fields of Ceti V had been coerced into lifting our weighty vehicle into the air and hurling it into the still, peaceful night sky.

Twenty minutes later, we carefully descended into the commercial parking slots of the Cetian Orbital Port Authority Docking Station, or COPADS to the acronym-inclined Cetians called it, and quickly booked a passage to the docking ring with the small drone that came around to us as soon as we landed. It buzzed off importantly and came back a few minutes later with our infra-red beacon, which it applied to the side of our caravan in a very businesslike manner before explaining the rules of COPADS, all of which we knew by heart. After that, all we had to do was fly up to the entrance of the massive synthdiamond artery to the sky and let the drone there scan our beacon before boarding. By then it was about 1:75. We were lucky. The damned Cetians were so often in a hurry to get of schedule, they had been known to program their drones to leave five, ten or even fifteen minutes early. But this one had been programmed well, and at 1:80 on the mark, we felt the massive power build under the floor beneath our feet and suddenly, after a quiet warning from the drone, the platform shot up into the air, quickly leaving the steady ground of Ceti V far behind.

After a few minutes, the clouds faded away and soon the stars, now uncovered, shone out hard and brilliant against the perfect blackness of space. The journey took about half an hour at a comfortable speed and at the end of that time, we arrived safe and sound at the docking ring high above Ceti V. From our vantage point, we could only see about half of the massive ring, from which the interstellar societaships would come and go, connecting the worlds of humanity economically and socially. Without the fleets of ships plying their way through the immeasurable distances between stars, humanity as a species would have dissolved into squabbling little systems with nothing but inbred populations to sustain them. This was how the Societas made its money. The Societas was centered on Europa and was headed by the Pater Mercatorum, or Father of Merchants, who now owned all interstellar vehicles. It was a monopoly, but what could a person do?

It was for one of these metaphorical life ropes for mankind that we were headed. We had passage booked on board the Maria Ansola bound for Europa itself, social center of the Sol home system so that we could participate in the Thousand Days festival sponsored by the Pater Mercatorum himself, Reli di'Irussica. We knew that this was going to be big for us and in honor of the occasion, I had had Eylion up for days at a time, sculpting dimensions of light until all three were perfect. Also, just for this festival, I had commissioned an original Tackeradd by the master himself. Don't ask how I got him to come out of retirement from monastery on Rigel, let's just leave it that I had a few, well, compromising holos of him that could have been very bad if they had been released to the public. He had told me that it was almost done and it would be there ready to meet me at the port on Europa.

My thoughts were interrupted as Eylion touched my shoulder and pointed out that we had reached customs. Oh, well, I sighed to myself, here we go.

* * *

After an hour of making our way through the labyrinthine Cetian customs I realized one thing, the people like their planet. Finally myself and the rest of my band were allowed onto the Ansola. After storing our caravan carefully in the relatively empty cargo space of the freighter, I, followed by Eylion, led my ten our so apprentices down the weightless corridors of the ship towards the main passenger lounge. The lounge was a long room with spotless white walls and a "ceiling" that was open to space. Not a place for people with a tendency towards space sickness. Luckily, I had none of that tendency and was particularly comfortable under the stars. I was feeling rather generous that night, so, to congratulate my people on our success earlier that evening, I bought them all a round of drinks. And as we sat there, nursing our drinks and watching the stars, in flew Meris Radeliad followed by his apprentices and lightcrafter, the relatively well known Tehr Elisad.

Seeing us, Meris grabbed a handhold and deftly flipped himself through the weightlessness of the lounge towards us. "Well, hello Madame Geress. It has been a long time hasn't it?" he said with a definite unpleasant accent on the "long."

"Yes, Meris, I suppose it has," I answered as quietly as I could, not wanting a scene on our first night on the same ship. I mean, we still had a three day journey ahead. No need in souring things early. There would be plenty of time for that during the festival on Europa.

"How are things, Rayna? Still performing those tired old Tackeradds?" he asked beckoning the rest of his entourage over. They were all dressed in the black and silver uniforms of the Radeliad Troupe as opposed to my own Geress Troupe's less conservative red and gold.

"Of course I am. If the Tackeradds can still draw a crowd for us as they did tonight, I suggest you try them sometime. They might liven your act up a bit, even with the kind of tools you have to work with," I retorted, sending the last barb straight at Elisad, who hovered uncomfortably on Radeliad's right. So much for not souring things early.

"I see you didn't get much of your father's tact, Rayna. Too bad. If he was still alive, our Troupes might be slightly closer than we find them today. But what can one do?"

"I'd say you can just leave me and my troupe alone for the rest of this trip, Radeliad. I don't want any trouble on a societaship. But once we land on Europa and the Pater Mercatorum has declared the festival open, we'll see what you can do," I finished, pulling myself towards the exit of the lounge followed by the rest of my Troupe. Meris was stupid, but he wasn't stupid enough to attack me in front of all those Societas' witnesses.

I dispersed my apprentices to their rooms and, grinning to myself, got ready for bed.

* * *

Europa glittered in the diffused light like a perfect sapphire on a sheet of nullux fabric. On the surface of the ice world, lights marked the outward boundaries of cities but not the downward. Euopan cities descended for miles into the frigid liquid seas beneath the sheet of snow and ice which created the "land" of the world. In the background, Jupiter sat roiling and burning with lightning storms that could be seen from hundreds of miles away and could have swallowed Old Earth whole. No one's attention was on the Jovian though, for we had all seen gas giants before but none of us had ever been to Europa before, except for me. Once, many years ago with my father when he was performing for the father of the current Pater Mercatorum.

My apprentices could not wait to land and explore this new world of opportunities. We watched raptly as the Maria Ansola slowly spun towards the docking ring of Europa. The ring was almost completely filled with ships from all over the known worlds. I could pick out belt miners from the asteroids here in the Sol system, tourist ships from Sanctuary and even the sleek powerful warships of Europa which defended the traders and trade routes of the influential Pater Mercatorum's Societas. Finally, the Ansola had attached itself to the docking ring and its crew signaled that it was safe to depart. I led my people down to the cargo hold and we started up our caravan and drove it out into the docking ring to get to the 'vator. After waiting in line for almost three hours, we were allowed to descend to the planet's surface in the 'vator that was more extravagant than Ceti's.

The ‘vator led to the Europan Orbital Port, one of the largest ports in all of humanity’s worlds. It was a crowded place, with a few other h-puppeteer caravans like ours, of course, but there were also a few of the famous Europan merchants in their resplendent cloaks and robes, a large group of dirty belt miners, here to sell their ore and check out the Thousand Days, and there were even some of the fanatics from their desert monasteries on Mars, dressed in their dark scarlet albs. Scattered throughout the crowds were the elite Europan guards with the insignia of the Pater Mercatorum embroidered on their shoulders. That man’s power is everywhere, I thought to myself as we finished customs and continued on into the crowded caravan lanes.
Picking our way through the crowd, which we found is slightly difficult with a large vehicle, we finally reached the large, looming caravan exit. Looking at my watch, I could tell that dawn must be breaking miles above, us on the surface of Europa, but we could hardly see it as a steep ramp led us from the Port even deeper into the planet, towards the Europan city of Eramis. After descending down that ramp quite a ways, the ramp began to slant a little less, telling us that we had arrived at the center of power for most, if not all, of humanity.
We emerged blinking into the artificial light of the city. Europan cities are rather unique. Attached to the underside of the continent of ice which form the surface of the moon, they hang like massive distended icicles down into the depths of Europa’s freezing ocean. Eramis was the largest of any of these cities and served as the capitol and home of the Pater Mercatorum. It also held the newly constructed Avenue of Cultures, so named by the Pater Mercatorum because he had hoped to inspire the disparate sections of humanity. The Avenue was lined with theatres and booths, all empty at present, but waiting to be filled with all kinds of artists and performers.

I decided that it was time we moved on so I nudged Eylion, startling him out of his own reverie. He looked annoyed for a second, but then started the caravan and we moved on into the gaps between the towering buildings,
floating on Eramis’s artificial EM field.

* * *

The Thousand Days had begun! Even though the last few days had since we had arrived on Europa had been hectic with settling into our new rooms, setting up our stage in the theatre and rehearsing the new Tackeradd in whatever free time we had, we felt we were ready for anything. I decided that, to give my troupe a little rest, I scheduled our first performance for the day after the festival began as to give them some time to rest and relax and enjoy a show or two.
I knew I was going to fully enjoy the time I had given us, so early on the first day of the festival, I left our hotel and headed over to the Avenue, ready to have some fun. Luckily, our hotel wasn’t very far from the center of the festival, so I was able to get there fairly quickly using only the bridges and walkways. When I arrived there, I was glad to be alive to see what was spread out in front of me. High above the milling crowd of living colors, massive banners of molded light flapped effortlessly in the calm cool air of Europa. From the throngs who had come to celebrate the first of the Thousand Days came a sound that only countless happy people can make. The artificial lights high above lit the scene as intensely as any sun, making the colors all the more vibrant.

From where I was standing, near the entrance of the Avenue, I could see the dirgecallers, h-puppeteers and a few live performers advertising their shows along with some of the more strange acts which were scattered throughout the theatres that lined the spacious promenade.
Wait a minute, I thought, I know one of those “strange acts.” I approached a crowd that had gathered around a rather elderly man who was dressed in an ancient circus ringleader’s uniform with a red coat trimmed with gold and shiny black boots.

I could hear him yelling to the crowd in a sing-song voice, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to the amazing, astonishing A. L. Halidax’s NanoCircus. Yes, I, Allen Lumbert Halidax III, have the only NanoCircus left in existence. I won’t lie to you ladies and gentlemen, this is a sight to be seen, so gather round and behold.”
I couldn’t help myself. I knew Halidax was a good performer, but I had forgotten how good he could be. I drew closer.

Halidax raised his hand into the air, palm upward, and waited for silence, which fell quickly over his captivated audience. Suddenly, the skin of his palm writhed and boiled before, in front of the gasping crowd, a small humanoid figure seemed to pull itself from out of the hand. It stood there a second and then reached down and pulled an exact duplicate out of the palm. Its twin then turned around and did the same thing and soon there were four figures all standing on Halidax’s palm. They then all walked over to the gold trim of his coat and bent down in unison. When they stood again, each was holding a small sphere of the gold trim each hand. They moved into a square and began juggling the eight balls, faster and faster they went, flashing in the morning light. The rapt audience erupted into applause, and the figures began the show in earnest.

It went on for maybe fifteen minutes. The four “actors” ran up and down Halidax’s arm performing tricks as in a real circus. But finally, they marched up the arm one last time and, with one more bow, jumped back into the skin of the ringmaster’s palm. Then, Halidax’s entire arm morphed into the words, “THANK YOU” and then changed into “ENJOY THE FESTIVAL.” The crowd loved it. They cheered and clapped as they began to line up to drop virtual coins into the happy performer’s back account. It was a major success.

When they finally dispersed, I walked up to the ringmaster, who was packing up his props, “Well, well, well, Allen Halidax. It has been a long time,” I said.

He whipped around and a look of recognition dawned on his old and wrinkled face, “If it isn’t young Rayna Geress. I haven’t seen you for, oh, almost thirty years,” he said laughing with a twinkle in his eye.

He stuck out his hand and I shook it warmly, “How are you, Allen? Why the new act? The last time I saw your show, you were only turning blocks of metal into glass and back again.”

He laughed again, “I know, I know. To be frank, it got boring. Too many other people were copying my style, so I got this doctor on Alpha Centauri to imbue this here arm with nanites. I got a neural link to ‘em so I can control them with just a thought. See?”

His arm melded itself into a large bird, which began to flap its wings and squawk imposingly, before morphing back into its original shape.

“It’s great Allen. It looks good on you. Look, if you have nothing else to do today, why don’t you come over to the New Orpheus and see our show? It’s a brand new Tackeradd.”

“I’d love to, hon, really I would, but I’ve got some more stuff to do here before I head out. But keep in touch and maybe we’ll meet up in some other system.”

“I hope so, Allen. I’d love to catch up on old time with you. You’re one of the only ones left from the old days with my dad,” I answered, shaking his hand one more time and then beginning to head off down the street to look for more entertainment.

Then I heard his voice behind me, “Rayna, wait, I need to talk to you a minute.”

I turned and walked back to him, expectantly.

“I have a favor to ask you, Rayna. I am working on a certain project with which I need some assistance. I can’t talk about it now, but if you would meet me in the Grinning Prince on the surface level of the city tomorrow morning, I can talk more then. But remember, this is important,” he said quickly and quietly before turning and scurrying into the crowd before I could stop him.

I shrugged and continued my walk down the Avenue of Cultures.

* * *

The room is dark and silent. No one in the New Orpheus theatre is moving a muscle. Suddenly, a pool of light appears to one side of our derriswood stage. Into it steps one of my most senior apprentices. He taps his foot and a pedestal rises out of the stage, holding a book bound in black leather.

He opens it to the first page and begins to read, his voice soft but strong, “A moon rises over the Larysan Sound. The only sound is the quiet lapping of the waves upon the silky soft sand…”

As he reads the introduction to our new Tackeradd, The Larysan Sound, the beautifully lightcrafted sets begin to fade into place, and the sound of the waves is churned over the audience by our techs.

“The only thing living upon this beach is a solitary man, a monk who has lost all contact with his fellow man…”

My cue. My fingers, as if by themselves, begin to fly over the kiosk in front of me. In response, one of the most beautifully crafted puppets Eylion has ever made moves onstage as if dancing. It is a young Jon Rhyssa, for The Larysan Sound is the prequel to the famous Ballad of Jonathan Rhyssa. I moved my avatar out to center stage and began to speak the lines of the first dirge. As I worded the speech, Rhyssa spoke along with me, my voice seeming to come from his mouth.

So began the premier performance of Tackeradd’s newest masterpiece. Slowly, we wound through the story of the young monk Jonathan Rhyssa; his capture by an evil pirate, his meeting of the beautiful Erin and their trials escaping the clutches of the pirates and unscrupulous slave traders. The entire piece eventually culminated in the death the love of his life, Erin and one of the most wonderfully written dirges that Tackeradd had ever produced. Finally, the dirge faded and I deftly moved Rhyssa to turn to the audience and acknowledge their applause.
They loved it. Once again, our brilliant rendition of another Tackeradd had stunned our appreciative customers. I signaled the rest of the cast to join me onstage. They patched their puppets to follow their movements and came out with me. We stood, smiling and squinting at the lights which hid the people in shadows. We bowed and knew that our puppets, hovering behind us, mimicked our movements. We bowed again and, with a final wave, filed off of the stage.

* * *

Later that night, after our final show, I had sent everyone else back to hotel to celebrate except for Eylion. We were going over the script, looking for places that might need smoothing out after the first day of performances. Overall it had been a big success, but I thought that there were some parts that could be tightened for the next day.
It was getting late and I was about to suggest to Eylion that we go join the rest of the cast and crew when a voice rang out of the shadows that covered the seats of the theatre, “Well done, Madame Geress. Please, extend my congratulations to the rest of your troupe.”
I looked up sharply, “Who’s there?” I yelled into darkness.

Down the central aisle, a lone figure was descending. Slowly, the light on his face began to increase as he grew closer. Then I knew who it was. I gasped and heard Eylion doing the same behind me. It was the imposing, aquiline face of the Pater Mercatorum, Reli di'Irussica.

“Don’t be astonished, Rayna, may I call you that?” I nodded as he continued, “I remember your father’s productions well when I was a child in the court and my father hired yours to perform for us. I must say your new Tackeradd is at least as impressive. Un fortunately,” he went on, dismissing my thanks, “I do not have time to talk about theatre. I have something that I need you to do. My intelligence has reason to suspect that a group of disgruntled workers has plans in motion that would destroy this entire city and everyone in it, all to discredit me. They blame me for the loss of their jobs, which is ridiculous. I did not even own the company that
they worked for.”

“What… what do you expect me to be able to do when you have an entire security force at your disposal?” I asked puzzled.

“I have reason to believe that you were approached by the ringleader of this group yesterday morning.”

I thought back. He must be mistaken, I thought, I hven’t met anyone unusual except for… It couldn’t be, “Not Halidax!” I exclaimed.

“I know that this might come as a shock, but yes. Allen Halidax. One of my agents trailing him yesterday saw your conversation. He is leading the group and they are planning to destroy this city and everyone in it just to discredit me. I need you to keep your meeting with him and make sure he is going to go through with is and then try stop him. I know that your father was a resourceful man and I’m hoping that it runs in families. Before I send an entire army after them, I have to make sure that they are actually trying to do this. Please, Rayna, the fate of hundreds of thousands could be in your hands.”

I thought. I knew there must be more that he wasn’t telling me. I also knew that it would be dangerous to press further, but I also knew that it would be dangerous to refuse. He had not explicitly threatened me, but he, if anyone, had the power to absolutely ruin someone’s career and life. I didn’t think I had much of a choice so I agreed.

“Wonderful, Rayna. Now, it would be wise to choose someone to go with you for, backup shall we say.”

I looked over my shoulder at Eylion. He seemed to be as stunned as I was, but he noticed my gaze and nodded. He would go.

“Excellent,” di'Irussica said, rubbing is hands together, “You should leave tomorrow. Take the ‘vator to the Grinning Prince Inn and look from there. I have been informed that that is one of the major gathering places for the rebels. I should not have to mention that there are very considerable rewards for you both when you return.

“But now I must take my leave. There are too many important matter of state to attend to for me to be gone much longer. Thank you, and good luck.”

He vanished, “A hologram,” I muttered and was about to stand up and leave when he appeared as suddenly as he left, he appeared again.

“Sorry, I forgot what you did for a living. I meant ‘break a leg.’ Goodbye,” he said smiling and then vanished again.

* * *

Eylion and I nervously watched as the wonderful promenades of Eramis quickly dropped away beneath us and the Ceiling flashed, hurtling towards us. Just as it seemed there was no way the pod would stop in time, it quietly glided to a halt and attached itself to the dock of the Grinning Prince. Usually, a bar was not the termination point for a transportation pod like this, but the Grinning Prince was one of the oldest buildings on Europa, founded by the first Pater Mercatorum when the post was established by the di'Irussica family. Since then, however, the old surface section of the city had decayed into a slum and had even been all but abandoned by normal people. Now it was only inhabited by drug dealers, thieves and the rest of the outcasts of society. It was rumored that the Pater Mercatorum had purposely driven those kinds of people to the upper levels to get them out of the way for his Thousand Day Festival.

We had gone to bed early the night before without telling the rest of the troupe anything and had risen early to catch the pod to the upper levels. We were as ready as we were ever going to be.

The pod arrived and the door opened. Eylion and I climbed up the ladder out of the rickety pod with a sigh of relief at surviving such a ride. There was a large rusted metal door with a peeling painting of a large grinning face, the Prince, I assumed. I tried the handle. Locked.

"Stand back," Eylion ordered in a tone more stern and loud than usual. It sounded like he was worried. Pulling out his sliver gun, he took careful aim at the lock and fired. There was the piercing hiss of the slivers as they split the air and then ripped into the soft metal of the lock. It fell off with a clatter, and I wrenched open the tired portal.

It creaked open and we stepped inside the musty smelling hall. It looked as if no one was there or had been in ages. Then where was that damned Halidax? I sighed and continued to tiptoe into the decrepit building, with Eylion close at my heels covering me every nano of the way. The tables were all covered in dust and the bar itself, complete with bottles still on the shelf behind it, sat alone and silent, as if waiting for something that was going to be long in coming. Suddenly, I felt a chill, as if a draft of the cold, Europan air had swept across my face. Then I knew why I had felt that way. There, standing in front of a door open to the exterior of the upper levels, stood a figure dressed in red circus conductor's uniform with gold trim. It was Halidax. His head was bowed, though so I found it difficult to make out his face. I didn't have to wait long. He raised his face towards me, gestured with a lazy wave of his hand and the cold, hard lights of the bar went on, casting vicious shadows over the room. Then I saw that Halidax was wearing a cruelly twisted mask of derriswood, from its scent. The most disturbing part of it was the mouth. It was as if someone had taken the painting from the front door of the bar and turned it into a three dimensional figure while wrapping about Halidax's head like a malevolent turban from Old Earth. Its grin said more than anything else he could have as a greeting. It leered, making me almost sick to my stomach, a perversion of the mask making profession. Only a very disturbed person could have had enough feeling to make that thing.

Finally, he spoke, "Good evening, my dear Madame Geress. I'm glad you came. As I said before, we need to speak."

"I'm sorry, Halidax. I can't listen. Even though you and my father were close, I cannot allow you to go through with your plan. The Pater Mercatorum told me all about it and I have come to stop you," I replied in as even a voice I could muster as I drew my sliver gun and pointed it at him.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at me through those evilly twisted eyes of his mask. Then he slowly shook his head, "My dear Madame, you cannot think me so in the dark, as it were," he said gesturing around the dim bar, "as not to have predicted this possible out come. I knew it was possible you could become a…ah…puppet to the Father of Merchants."

He nodded at me and for a split second I could not understand why. Then I heard the movement behind me and I looked. There was Eylion, who I had forgotten was there, standing, looking me in the eye and holding a gun that was pointed straight at my head. My mind reeled. What could be happening, I thought? Had the reality gone mad? This was Eylion Razis, one of my oldest and closest friends. How could he be doing this?

He must have seen my confusion because he spoke as he reached out to take out his gun, "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Rayna, but I know that this is the right thing. I have to do this. The power over humanity has been resting in this frozen little nothing of moon for far too long. My family came from the Plains of Mars, Rayna, you know that. They were ruined by the Pater Mercatorum," he spit the name, "and that's why we became wandering lightcrafters. You think it was because we wanted to? Why would we? For the romance of it? Please. Don't be naïve. Diamond farming was more profitable than this career choice could ever be, but we were forced to the stars along with much of the working class of Mars, because of the phenomenal shift of power that followed the Societas's founding. I know this is a shock for you, but I have no choice."

He sounded like he meant it. There was a strength in his voice that I had never heard before. He had always been the quiet, likeable Eylion and now here he was holding a gun to my head and cursing the entire economic structure of humanity in space. I knew that all I could do was sit tight and try to live for as long as I could, increasing my chances for survival and escape.

"I understand, Eylion. You and you family have been through a lot. You never deserved to be forced out of your home," I said quietly, trying to get him to calm down.

"Oh shut up, Rayna," he replied tiredly, "You can have no idea of what I've been through. I might be a good lightcrafter, but I hate it. It's too insubstantial. Nothing but smoke and mirrors. Give me a diamond solution and a solidification matrix on the red Plains of Mars and I'll be happy for as long as I live, forming the most beautiful diamonds you've ever seen," he sighed, his eyes misty, remembering.

"Snap out of it, Eylion," Halidax's voice cracked, "We don't have time for this. I've just received word that the charges have been set. We need to get out. Now. Leave her and let's go."

"But, Allen, we can't leave her here. This place is going to go down faster than the Nimbus Dei herself. It's not right."

"Damn it, man. We can't argue. But we also can't take her. Be happy just knowing that she won't feel any pain. The Grinning Prince is in the center of all of the blast radii. It'll be vaporized."

I was definitely not ready to be happy about not feeling the pain of my death. I would rather live, thank you very much. I needed to buy some time, "Why are you doing this, Halidax. You have never really explained yourself."

He had been half turned towards the door through which he had come. He slowly faded around and faced me. There were flames dancing in his eyes.

"I was born here, on Europa, many years ago. I was one of the first children to be raised here. My parents were relatively low level bureaucrats who lived here, in the upper levels, when they were slightly more fashionable than you see them now. I have watched helplessly as Pater Mercatorum after Pater Mercatorum slowly killed this place. Lower Eramis became the center of industry and commerce and those in the upper levels lost their jobs. My father killed himself after losing his job by leaping from the highest place he could find. He fell hundreds of stories to the Avenue you now see filled with tourists and artists," he said the word with a sneer.

He took a breath, composing himself, "My mother died a few years later, destitute, and I began my pathetic NanoCircus to make ends meet. I was never meant to be an artist. Europa has become decadent and sick and this city is the cancer that is causing it. I have decided to remedy this. By gathering the remains of the once proud people who used to live here, I have created an army. You could not have heard about our other attacks, the Societas quieted them up pretty well, but this will not be ignored. I shall bring these peoples' entire world down around their heads and then they will notice.

"Unfortunately, Madame Geress, you will not live to see the chaos we are about to unleash, because now Eylion and I must make our final exit, correct my friend?" he asked my former comrade and partner.

Eylion looked at me for a minute, and for an instant hope rose in my throat. However, he turned away seconds later and began to walk towards Halidax who continued to cover me with a sliver gun he had previously drawn. He reached Halidax and continued walking towards the exit until he reached it and passed through it without looking back. Halidax backed towards the door as well, and as he left, he bowed slowly and deeply without ever taking his eyes, or the gun, off of me. The door was closed and he was gone.

I ran towards the door with a howl. I crossed the room in a handful of quick stride, but too late. The door had been locked from the outside. I struggled with it, wishing I had not been disarmed by those thugs. Suddenly, though, my endeavors were interrupted by shouting from outside. I could just hear Halidax's and Eylion’s voice mixed with someone else’s which I could almost recognize but not quite. Shots rang out and then silence. I backed away from the door, feeling trapped and doomed, when the unmistakable sound of slivers hitting metal rang throughout the dilapidated bar. The door burst open under the force of the weapon and in jumped Halidax again, covered in snow and breathing heavily. He turned towards me, pointing his gun again, when there was the hiss of slivers again and his mask exploded. The twisted grin was torn and rent as the tiny metal splinters attacked the fragile derriswood. He screamed a high pitched wailing sound and raced for the transport pod, nearly knocking me over in the process. But I recovered and chased after him, not caring who had shot him, only wanting to stop him before he could carry out his plan.

By the time I reached him, however, he had made it through the portal of The Grinning Prince and he had the entry hatch of the pod open. As he jumped in, I could see trails of blood running along his jaw, accentuating its already sharp line. I heard the pod detach and begin to fall, and I hurled my body at the gaping hole and found myself streaking through the cold air of Eramis. Blow me, in sharper focus than the panoramic view of the city, was the pod, on which I was quickly gaining. Then it happened. Contact. I hit the pod hard enough to crash through the delicate crystal ceiling and sending a shower of tiny motes of light shimmering into the empty space of the upper levels. The pod must have felt my impact and its emergency procedures kicked in, causing it to grind to a vicious halt.

I saw the fear in Halidax's eyes as he spun around, facing me. Before he could react, I hit the sliver gun out of his hand and we both watched for a split second as it flew out of the pod and began the long, slow descent into the depths of Eramis. A loud crack broke my moment of thought. A second later I realized that it had been Halidax's hand smashing into my ribcage. I doubled over and staggered back against the wall as pain flooded my chest. I could dimly see him crossing the few meters between us and was able to block his fist the second time, but the force of the blow sent me reeling backwards against the already damaged crystal again, degrading its even further. I knew I had to win this. If I didn't he could escape. Then I remembered something. I was wearing my cloak from yesterday after the last show.

As he came at me again with murder in his eyes, I reached inside my jacket pocket and drew out a small matte black cube. I quickly hit a few buttons and as my opponent began to swing his fist in a vicious arc, another person materialized inside the pod with us. Halidax cried out in confusion as his fist hit the figure and passed right through it, allowing me to neatly sidestep and use his moment of confusion to send a perfect kick straight through old Jon R and into Halidax's stomach. He let out a small moan as his body was propelled backwards at a high speed and smashed into whatever remaining crystal there was at the edge of the pod and continued through. He fell silently, without a cry, surrounded by a haze of crystals which caught the hard white light of the city and glowed serenely. The only sound was the creaking of the pod in the artificial Europan wind and I could see still him as he followed his father downwards into oblivion.
I was alone in a small transport pod suspended hundreds of stories above any sort of surface in the cold, wet air native to Europa. I knew I needed to get out of there, but I could feel the fiery pain emanating from my probably broken rib. Pulling out the string box again, I deactivated Johnny and thankfully stowed the cube back in my jacket pocket. Crossing over to the panel which controlled the pod, I could see that it was not damaged and I thanked every god that I knew of. I touched a few buttons and was able to override the safety measures that had stopped the poor, damaged transport in the first place. Slowly, sickly, the shattered vessel began to rise on the thin wire towards the solid, metal sky.

After a few more miserable minutes, the pod reached the still open hatch and somehow attached its damaged shell to the clamps. The ladder fell down in front of me and so, more surprisingly, did a hand. I looked up and there was a body connected to the hand, which beckoned. The face was shrouded in shadows, so all of its details were blurred, but I was too tired to care and I grabbed the hand, feeling another twinge in my side. The hand was strong and slowly pulled me up into the safety of the entryway. I lay there panting for a second and then looked up at the face of the hand. If I had not just done what I did, I would have been surprised. But, in my condition I was not really surprised in any way. The hand was Meris Radeliad's.

"How?" was all my addled brain could come up with.

"You're welcome of course, Madame. I will admit you have been through quite a bit, but still wouldn't a simple 'thank you' be in order?" he responded acidly before continuing, "Well, surely you don't think that you are the only puppeteer that is capable of handling matters of national security? After he asked you, the Pater Mercatorum came over after my show and asked me, since I knew you and had some slight military training, if I would follow you and Eylion to see if I could be of assistance. I was waiting for them when they left, though I have to admit Eylion's treachery caught even me off guard. I wasn't expecting two of them, so the fighting started faster than I would've liked.

"After the shooting you must have heard, Halidax attacked the door and ran inside and…"
I interrupted exhaustedly, "Eylion?"

"Yes, well, I was just getting that. He's dead. He happened to be in front of Halidax and saw me first; I had no choice. After that, I followed Halidax into the bar and watched you two jump into the pod. The next thing I know, you're trying to crawl up the side of the hatch like a ridesh toad up a garden wall."

I hung my head again. It was all too fast. I felt his hand pulling me to my feet again and I heard him say something, but my mind was shaken. He gently pulled me to the door out of the bar where drifts of snow were already building up against Eylion's body. He had a small EM ship there and, in a haze, I remember boarding it and slowly lifting off, leaving the snow to finally enter the Grinning Prince, from where it had been barred for so long.

* * *

We had no more performances for the rest of the festival. I was honored by the Pater Mercatorum along with Radeliad for saving the city, but my heart had gone out of the shows. My troupe and I stayed on Europa for a few more weeks, but I could not stay any longer after that time. It was too hard. So, almost a month and a half after arriving on the ice world of Europa, Jon R and I were on the societaship Atlas heading out towards destinations unknown. I knew I would meet up again with my troupe, but for now I had an unlimited societaship pass compliments of the Pater Mercatorum and the only companionship I needed was that of my beautiful little figures of light who play over the surfaces of my cabin like sunbeams coming from Sol himself.