Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ A New Future 2 - First Blood ❯ The Riddle ( Chapter 35 )

This was originally published by me under the name Anduril at Anime Addventures, with the only changes being a few corrections in spelling, punctuation and the occasional word choice to make things clearer. If you like the beginning of my story but think I've gone off the rails, or have your own ideas for a great branch-off, or think I'm taking too long to update and want to continue the story yourself, come to Anime Addventures and join in the fun!

I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi, Naoko Takeuchi, or anything in the GURPS Ogre and GURPS Tales of the Solar Patrol settings published by Steve Jackson Games. Everything else is mine.

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Verres watched his repeater display of the battle raging at the beachhead, keeping his face expressionless in proper stoic fashion. The legate was still standing on the podium in view of everyone across the plaza and watching from the surrounding buildings, soldier and civilian alike, and it wouldn't do to show his growing dismay at what his display was showing.

“Legate?”

Verres looked up at the sound of Manius's voice, relieved to have something to distract him from the unfolding catastrophe, even if it was likely to be more bad news. Manius and Mamercus were both waiting, the two staff members standing stiffly at attention. “Manius Publilius, report.”

“Yes, Sir. The legionnaire that backed out of the portal reports that he was engaged by what looked like a short human female. He didn't have the opportunity to observe much before she finished off the man next to him and kicked him back out through the portal, but he didn't see anyone else standing besides her — neither additional enemies, nor any of the legionnaires that had preceded him. I ordered another two legionnaires to enter and report back immediately, and they say that they found nothing but the bodies of our troops as far forward as they could see before the tunnel curved.”

“Yes, well, considering the blood running out of the portal, I can't say it comes as a surprise,” Verres murmured. “Mamercus Caecilius?”

“Sir! I am afraid the word is not good,” the legionnaire barked, staring straight ahead. “The plan for dealing with opposition within the tunnel that cannot be handled by the men calls for inserting a canister of Quick Kill, then sending the troops through with their rebreathers active. Unfortunately, as you surmised there is none on hand, and it will be at least three hours before any can be brought up —”

“So long!” Verres broke in, dismay breaking through his stoic façade.

“Yes, Sir, the gas's near-instant lethality precludes storing it within the city. I've given orders for several canisters to be brought here as fast as possible, but ...” Mamercus shrugged. “I checked for other less lethal war and crowd control gases and found several of the second stored within Rome, but the soonest any can get here is around an hour, what with how late it is — we have to wake up some people. And there's no guarantee it will work against the enemy.

“With the Quick Kill unavailable, I did a quick check of the battle beasts laagered at the follow-up portal,” he continued. “ However, while a few of those readily available that would fit into the tunnel might be able to survive a head-on fight and push through to the other end, that cannot be guaranteed — whoever mowed down our men must be a formidable fighter. And if the battle beasts lose, we will have that much more trouble clearing the tunnel before we can send more men through.

“That leaves one other option I thought of: polearms. They should be short enough to maneuver through the curve in the tunnel, and may be enough to keep the enemy at bay and push her back. I found that there are polearms of the appropriate length within the city, and order several score delivered. They will be here within half an hour.”

Verres glanced down at the display, and suppressed a wince as the symbol of a fourth crystal column flashed for a few moments, then changed color to indicate that it was in repair mode. “It doesn't look like Manilius Otho is going to have half an hour, but if that is the best we can manage, that is the best we can manage. Mamercus Caecilius, detail enough legionnaires for the polearms coming, have them ready to move in as soon as they arrive. Manius Publilius, get a detail to start clearing the dead from the tunnel, to give us a clear path as far as possible. The detail is not to attempt to engage the enemy. If they encounter her, they are to fall back immediately as quickly as possible — there is no point in adding more bodies to the tally to be removed before we can push through.”

Manilius and Mamercus saluted, and hurried away. Verres watched them go for a moment, then turned back to what might possibly be the most dangerous moment in his life, certainly politically and possibly physically — reporting the fiasco to the Consul.

/oOo\

Manilius ignored the fighting around him to focus on his Heads-Up Display. The century with which he and his staff had taken refuge had been one of the last that the attacking women (and occasional man) had reached and so had had time to turtle up into a square before it was attacked, and the attacking Amazons had to be on their last legs after finishing off what had been left of Verginianus's century before moving on to completely overwhelm Fufius's on the way here. Even now the blacksmith hammering and sounds of human rage and torment were dying away as the Amazons attacking the century fell back — exhausted, decimated, battle groups broken up, leadership hampered by casualties, it would be awhile before they were ready to attack again with what they had left.

No, what turned Manilius's face grim was the rest of the battlefield. On the southwest side of the perimeter, Verginianus had died in the same massive blast that had annihilated almost his entire century; Fufius had gone down in the initial confusion as the Amazons had hammered his stunned century from both sides, even as he'd bought Manilius and his staff time to shift to Apustius's century farther east. On the northwest side, Afrianus was dead, and the remnants of his century had actually abandoned the battlefield completely, holed up in one of the buildings surrounding the park. Cincius was alive, but wasn't going to be issuing any commands with a broken jaw or leading any charges with a shattered kneecap. His century wasn't in any better shape after its survivors had actually managed to break through the Amazons. His optio had led the remnant in an assault on the magical girls shattering the anchors and their guards, only to learn a very brief lesson in what they were capable of — a lesson that many of them would never be able to profit from. Meanwhile, those magical girls had temporarily shattered four of the crystalline columns and had just moved on to the fifth, almost directly between the tribune and the westward-facing portal to the north.

Still, with Sulpicius's century doing the work of three holding off the new wave of more typical, less effective troops for this type of world from the eastern edge of the park, Manilius still had two centuries not yet engaged. (He forced himself to ignore the way the shifting colors of the First Spear's legionnaires showed them dying in place rather than allow themselves to be pushed back, and the group of enemy soldiers hanging back behind the line waiting for an opening. He was just going to hope that the dictum that the side that committed their reserves last won the battle didn't hold true this time, because he had nothing to throw at them and his own reserves had been the first to fall.) If there was to be any chance of salvaging the situation — or getting any of his people home if he failed — he had to move now. And the party disrupting the anchors was finally in position.

/\

Sailor Saturn slowly forced herself to her feet, using the shaft of the Silence Glaive as a brace. The world had finally stopped whirling around her, keeping her flat on her back even as, from the sounds of battle around her, her friends old and new had beaten off a few abortive attempts by legionnaires that had actually managed to break through the Amazons. It was time for her to rejoin the fight.

Beside her, Akane caught her elbow as she staggered slightly. (No, Hammer, Saturn reminded herself, eyes widening at the sight of a camera crew to the side filming the battle dying down around them). “Saturn, are you sure that's a good idea? You still look kind of pale,” the raven-haired girl said, the concern in her eyes visible through the energy visor her lover had taught her to form.

“I'll be all right, just a little tired. It isn't fair — I let myself go and take out an entire block, and it wipes me out; I keep myself under tight control and destroy a single building, and it wipes me out;” the Senshi assured her, frowning worriedly as she looked over the former Tendo. “Are you all right? You're ... looking a little pale yourself.”

Hammer grimaced as she glanced down at the splash of blood across the white hammer sewn onto the front of her red leotard along with a few spatters of vomit, then at her sword arm red to the elbow. Her fingers had left streaks of red on the bare skin of Saturn's arm. “The blood isn't mine, I'm ... not hurt.”

The tightness around Hammer's eyes labeled her a liar, but it was a lie Saturn had told in her time herself; she set it aside for later — they would have time to help each other get through the emotional trauma after the battle was over. Nodding to the camera crew instead, she asked, “Where did they come from?”

Hammer looked away from her friend, her gaze sweeping across their half of the park. Saturn's eyes followed suit, sweeping across the body-strewn, gore-splashed grass with the occasional clump of Amazons and legionnaires watching each other as they maneuvered to clump together into larger groups. She paused for a moment at the sight if the open-air aid station already set up midway between the portal and the edge of the park. Amazons were helping each other toward it, stretcher bearers (mostly male), carrying others. Even the occasional legionnaire was staggering or crawling in its direction.

“Oh, the camera crew arrived looking for ... Vanguard with Tatewaki-kun and Doug-sensei, when the Amazons went after the flanks instead of coming here,” Hammer finally replied, eyes still sweeping the field.

“What?” Looking around, Saturn's eyes widened again at the sight of a large, muscular handsome blond American she didn't recognize standing at the south end of their line across the portal, Xian Pu and Mu Tse on one side and the kendoist that had so shocked everyone with his offer the day before on the other, the two men watching something behind the portal to the east on the other side at the end. “Hey, you didn't call him the Blue Blunder or the Kendo Klutz, or something.”

“Yeah, well, after yesterday ...” Hammer shrugged.

“Yes, he was rather intense, wasn't he?”

“And he meant every word,” Hammer agreed. “Not that I'm going to —”

“They're coming!” The shout from MacKenzie and Mu Tse on the south side and Chibi-Moon and Ukyo on the north yanked the two girls' attention around, before Hammer just as quickly whipped back.

“I'm the rear watch, I can't look,” she said through gritted teeth. “Go see what's going on.”

Saturn nodded silently, briefly resting a hand on her friend's shoulder before stepping over beside the other member of the Three Musketeers to look.

Chibi-Moon glanced over at the intruder between her and the portal, then shoved lightly against Ukyo to make room. Ukyo glanced over, then pushed against her servant and the three sidled over.

Saturn stepped into the space, and blanched as she finally saw the other half of the park ... and what looked like several hundred men on the march in two broad lines, half straight toward her, and the other half ... the young girl's stomach sank as she stepped out of the line to look south. Yes, the second group was angling across, aimed directly at the rest of the Senshi gathered around another crystal tower, and their Neriman protectors — including her Uranus-papa and Neptune- and Pluto-mamas.

She quickly took stock of herself — still a bit light-headed, the world wobbling ever so little, but it would have to do. She'd lost one family, she wouldn't lose another. If necessary, she and the rest at the portal could take refuge with Vanguard inside it until they could be relieved. Facing squarely toward the enemy threatening her parents, she held up the Silence Glaive vertically before her in a slightly shaky two-handed grip. Again, the large blade at the end was surrounded by a slowly expanding ball of coruscating purple energy as she held on ... and on ... she didn't want to obliterate the entire park and everyone in it ... just a little longer ... and the Silence Glaive sliced downward.

/\

Genma growled softly as he looked around the battlefield to the north of the pillar they'd surrounded. He was tense, just a little bored, and really not looking forward to the next few minutes. For him, the battle so far had been an easy one — a few stragglers that had broken through the Amazons surrounding them, and a single serious effort by a few score legionnaires that had actually managed to close to hand-to-hand for a few exciting minutes (the survivors, at least, temporarily). No, the only really bad part of the experience so far was the pounding headache he had from the earsplitting, thought-obliterating screech the columns made as the weak bitches he was guarding shattered the things.

Looking back over his shoulder, he admired the view for a moment, a mini-skirted Senshi bathing the east side of the column in a steady stream of fire and another one on the west side hitting it with pure cold. By now, he knew the routine — the two would keep it up for around another five minutes, then the blonde ditz would wrap a chain around it and hit it with a series of hearts (he sneered at the memory — what kind of warriors shot hearts at their enemies?) while the other blonde ditz would bathe it in light from some kind of crystal, the brown-haired one would hit it with lightning, the shriek would build up until it overpowered everything else, the column would shatter, and once everyone picked themselves off the ground they'd be on to the next one.

Glancing to his left out of the corner of an eye, he quickly checked out the natural wonder on display beside him. The freak that had crawled into bed with his former friend might be an emasculating bitch as well as a weak one, but the way her body had filled out her dress after she started sucking ki out enemy soldiers had been a beautiful sight — one that had only improved when the dress proved unequal to the rigors of battle and split at the seams, falling open to expose one breast, only the belt for her pouch of coins keeping the rags in place enough to preserve any modesty at all.

Not that she was concerned about modesty at the moment. The stupid fool had proven that she had no place on a battlefield by losing her breakfast at the first pillar after they'd run through what had been left of the enemy's reserve, and ever since she hadn't been willing to actually fire at any of the soldiers that had attacked them. Instead, she had only sucked them dry of energy, and by now Genma thought that he could see a faint shimmer around her body, as if she were white-hot instead of clammy with what had to be fear-sweat. The shimmer couldn't be heat, or it would have evaporated the tears slowly running down her face. How like a woman.

But they aren't all weak, are they?

Unwillingly, Genma's gaze shifted to the portal, and the short line of fighters waiting for the enemy to attack. Ignoring the American stranger and the buffoon dressed up like an ancient samurai, the “master” of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Art's eyes focused on the two Chinese, especially the purple-haired girl in the middle — the girl that had dared to march into his house and actually give him orders and threaten to kill him. The girl as responsible as any for the fact that his School would die with him, changing his heir into a weak girl and turning her against him. If they actually won this battle he would end his days living comfortably, but forgotten — a nobody, like his late, unlamented pervert of a master.

“Here they come,” the Senshi with ice powers said, resignation evident in her voice.

Another weakling, Genma thought dismissively as he glanced to the east. Yes, the two formations that had been forming up were on the move, one headed for the portal and the other straight at them, each at least twice as large as the first formation they'd annihilated on their way in. And as for the formation that had been to the south between them and the edge of the park, a few steps to the side so he could see past the column showed those legionnaires headed for them as well, though not nearly as many as the other two.

“Pay attention to your own side, we have this one. It looks like their timing is a bit off, we should be able to deal with these ones in time to help you.”

Genma nodded brusquely to the emerald-haired, black miniskirted Senshi and turned back without a word to focus on his mass of enemies, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine. Something about that woman, even worse than Ku Lon in spite of the absurd heart-tipped staff ... Glancing to his side, he sneered as he saw that Hinako was beginning to shake, his former friend on her other side laying a hand on her shoulder, his naginata braced upright in his other hand. Not all weaklings were women.

Suddenly, for the second time that morning for a second everything went silent, dreamlike, only to reawakened with a roar to shake the world as a spreading, mounting wave of purple energy flashed from the portal to slam into the formation marching toward him. Even as pieces of bodies splashed outward, the wave smashed its way through the formation, out the other side, and onward to blow a wide hole through the flank of the line of enemy soldiers holding back the Japanese reinforcements ... as well as the soldiers the legionnaires were fighting.

The first time that power had roared to life Genma had been helping fight off the first of the legionnaires moving against his group and hadn't been able to observe its effects. Now, the middle-aged martial artist stared at the torn-up sward covered with pieces of bodies, so stunned by what had happened that he barely noticed as the onrushing blast smashed into the apartment building just south of the one from which they'd begun their attack less than an hour before, and rubble lifted high into the sky as the building exploded. We've won.

But that still left the formation moving on the portal, and even as the sounds of several of the Senshi behind him firing their attacks at the formation on the other side of the pillar erupted behind him, he refocused on the last large unengaged formation in the middle of the park. With the destruction of its brother formation its legionnaires had broken into a trot, and a vicious smile spread across Genma's face as he considered the people bracing themselves for the attack, his eyes sweeping the chaos of the battlefield. You know, we don't really need any of them to win, anymore. Even if more reinforcements get through, they won't be enough to stop us from destroying the last of the columns. And if more Amazons die while dealing with them, all the better. And accidents happen on battlefields all the time, I think there's even a name for it.

Stepping forward, he sent one vacuum blade after another screaming downrange to hammer away at the charging century, working from back to front along its side, leaving a line of torn bodies, blood and gore in their wake. Just as he reached the head of the formation he took a step forward, twisted an ankle underneath him and went down heavily on his side, sending two more vacuum blades ripping straight at his unsuspecting teammates at the portal. Only one of them hadn't been unsuspecting, and a shout rang out. The blond stranger dropped, kicking the feet the deluded samurai-in-his-own-mind out from underneath him as he did, even as Mu Tse whirled and did the same to Xian Pu — just before the vacuum blade slashed in and he vanished from sight in a blood-red cloud.

Yes! Genma exulted as he clambered to his feet. He had missed the one he'd been aiming for, but he'd seen the two cuddling up to each other the day before, and oh, how he'd just hurt her. This'll teach that castrating bitch to —

“Murderer!”

Twisting around at the shout, Genma's eyes widened at the sight of Hinako facing him straight on, both hands stretched out at arm's length with four coins each held between her fingers and thumbs. Even as he tried to raise his arms for one more vacuum blade he could feel his ki draining away, his knees weakening and threatening to dump him on his face, the world dissolving into a collection of pastel spots and blobs of color — and Hinako shrieked, just before an explosion picked him off his feet and hurled him backwards.

Rolling with the impact, the balding martial artist flipped back to his feet, searching with star-sprinkled vision for his enemy, to find her long, voluptuous steaming body lying facedown in a shallow crater, naked except for a few scorched remnants of her dress about her shoulders and arms. Beyond her, Soun was rising shakily to his feet, picking up his naginata. And ... Genma looked over at the stunned Senshi just in time to see the emerald-haired one vanish from sight.

Time to go. Taking a deep breath, Genma steadied himself and calmly pulled the obscuring cloak of the umisenken about him, fading from his enemies' — all his enemies' — sight before racing for the edge of the park, easily dodging around the legionnaires and Amazons in his way to disappear into the city.

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The title comes from the song of the same name from the Broadway musical “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” It isn't a perfect fit but comes pretty close, especially the last bit:

Oh, every Judas once loved a Jesus
But finally treason will seize us
And only fools follow golden rules
We all are caught in the middle
Of one long treacherous riddle
Of who trusts who, maybe I'll trust you
But can you trust me?
Wait and see!

A quick word on how Roman names work: each man had three names, personal, family, and nickname (sometimes used as a secondary family name). When being formal two were used, the first and second or second and third. When being informal, the family used the personal name while friends usually used the family name.