Double Image

[Thexare]

(// Language warning - there is occasional use of crude language and metaphor. If you can't handle that, I ask why you're playing a game where terrorists kill thousands of civilians as a matter of routine.)

Eighth Arcanum Occult & Oddities was a strange little store. Bizarre sculptures sat on the floor in front of shelves full of tomes detailing ancient and largely-forgotten rituals. On another display, strange trinkets belonging to would-be sorcerers rested next to ancient artifacts of early human settlement of Sirius.

It attracted a very unique clientele. The kind who were convinced that there were spirits among humans. The kind who suspected alien infiltration in their local coffee shop. The kind who found a strange rock and were convinced it was actually an alien artifact. Normal customers also showed up, but the more "unique" customers were always quite visible. And the proprietor had cultivated a reputation for being willing to listen to any story, no matter how far-fetched.

The truth of Sirius is that most pilots will, at some point in their career, come across some form of Slomon K'hara activity. Some people were simply more willing to admit it. Many of them were wrong, but the one good lead was worth it.

It also funneled a surprising number of genuine alien artifacts into the store and, from there, to contacts in the deep Omicrons.

The owner, one Zachary Powell, was a similarly peculiar-looking individual. His shoulder-length black hair loosely framed his face, and he wore what would best be described as a modern interpretation of a wizard's robe; its open front revealed a runed necklace, and the tip of a magic wand could be seen poking out from the general vicinity of his left hip.

The chime above the door marked the arrival of another, similarly distinct woman. For the most part, she looked normal, though particularly attractive. Her simple tank top-and-shorts outfit, while not overly revealing, did little to hide her body, and almost succeeded in drawing attention away from her remarkably bright blue eyes. She made her way directly to the counter, leaned over, and in a soft voice audible only to him and blonde at the register said, "You and me are going to go out and have a wonderful evening. Right now. 'kay?"

He paused for a moment to consider, and realized that he had two very big reasons to play along.

The first one was that her tone indicated this was serious, not just an oddly-forceful invitation for a date. The second was that this was Mia Santini, Mirage agent.

"Go ahead, Zack. I've got things under control here," the blonde said, turning to Mia. "Just don't keep him too long."

"I'll have him back by four."

"It's already five!"

"I mean tomorrow," she said with a wink, pulling Zachary out the front door. She led him to her car, an expensive hoverspeeder model popular among people who like to drive where there aren't roads. As they got in and she started the engine, she said "I guess it's a good time for introductions. I'm Mia."

"I'm Zack."

"No you're not, let's try again. I'm Mia."

"I just told you, I'm Z-"

"Oh, Jake, did you really forget about Freeport 9? We had lunch, you showed me around, we shot down an uppity pirate. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm not really an airheaded bimbo. I just play one sometimes."

Well. Shit. "So what's this about?" he asked, resting his left hand near the wand.

"And I know why you're going for the wand. Concealed laser, right? Well, don't worry. Hurting you is the last thing on my mind," she said with a coy half-smile. "Actually, I need your help." At some point during the conversation, she had started driving. Jacob wasn't sure when, or how he hadn't noticed; he was feeling increasingly out of practice as this went on. "See, here's the thing. I've been thinking about that fight. You were a Zoner, supposedly, but I've never seen a Zoner fly like that. Unflinching calm, but regret. That's not how a pacifist would fly. That's not how a Hunter would fly."

Oh no. No no no n-

"And your little charade here is way too good to go with any of that... unless you were with The Order."

FUCK!

"You're pretty good at putting on a brave face, too. But calm down, really," she said softly, putting her hand gently on his left arm. "I told you, I need your help. And even if you say no, I'm not going to rat you out. Honestly, your disguise is good enough I wasn't even completely sure it was you."

"... alright," he sighed, knowing he was beaten. "Where are we going?"

"There's a quiet little lake nearby. More of a pond, really, but who's counting? We'll talk there, so if you feel like you need to run away you can," Mia explained, smirking.

Only a few minutes riding in silence, other than the rock station playing on the radio (a misnomer, but one kept out of habit), had passed before they arrived. A small pond in a clearing, with no one else in sight - but clear sight to the road. Of course, Mia was very visibly unarmed, so the Order agent shouldn't have been concerned, but under the circumstances...

"Alright, Mia, what do you want?" he asked, standing just outside the car.

"Aw, c'mon, let's sit by the pond." Jacob sighed in resignation, which he noted was becoming a recurring theme, and sat next to her. "That's better!"

"To business, then?"

"You know, that attitude might explain a few things about your love life." A sharp glare was the only response. "Seriously! You're alone with a pretty girl, miles away from anywhere and anyone, and your first thought is business."

"Pretty girls tend to be suspicious. The prettier they are, the more suspicious they are."

"What about the ones workin' for you?"

"That'd be how I learned." Mia laughed and slid slightly closer to him - enough that he'd notice, and intentionally so. "But if we could get to the point please?"

"Oh, fine. Since you wanna be boring about this. Look, you... I think you can guess, but I'm from Malta. And I know about some... issues they've had with The Order recently."

"And your opinion of this is..?"

"It's... not entirely fair, but I know why. It's the Spirit Cults. They've basically taken over Maltese politics. That's part of why I got out when I did."

"So their support isn't universal."

"No, but it is pretty widespread. Most of the civilians don't know any better. Most of those who do know better can't act on it, because it'd cripple them politically... or get them killed."

"I see. Then Mirage's departure..?"

"Politics. Far more than just the Spirits; dad wanted something that would never come to pass." Seeing the questioning look on Jacob's face, she elaborated, "He wanted a civilized Nacion Maltesa. He wanted us to put our raiding expertise to use against the Gallic threat alongside Bretonia, to establish a proper industry and economy, to make peace with the rest of Sirius... and to reunite with the Corsairs. The strength of the Maltese, he always said, was our ability to adapt and overcome."

"Instead, they let their unfortunate circumstances define them. They lashed out at all around them, and deprived of new targets, turned their swords inward."

"Yeah. They see other humans as being beneath them. It's not an inherent aspect of cardamine use, though... blame human nature for that one."

"Seperate one group from the rest, and over time they'll see them not as other people, but as The Other, The Enemy."

"Yep."

"Mia, I'm not sure what you're asking. I can't change human nature."

"Of course not, I know that. Just... there's others like me, like my family. Disillusioned with Maltese politics, those who don't believe the 'Spirits' are benevolent. Not many, but they're out there. Can you... protect them somehow?"

"I... don't know. I'll pass it along, but I'm not in a command position. Unfortunately, because of Cardamine's effects, The Order won't be making any distinctions between transports and combat ships... and the slave trade is doing them no favors." He sighed, glancing at a bird that landed nearby, and continued, "I honestly don't think I can do anything at all without some names. Leaving the Outcasts entirely would almost certainly be required."

"Well... I guess that's a start," Mia said, quickly hopping to her feet. "Now, how do you feel about sushi?"

"... come again?"

"Well, you might've forgotten this too, but I said earlier we were going to have a wonderful evening, and I meant it. Wouldn't want your coworkers thinking you blew it, would we?"