Chapter 639: The Spoked Offensive (1/2)

The lights of the stage dimmed until there were only two circles of illumination, highlighting the two figures on the stage. On the left was a Rigellian in a full body leotard, falsies on her chest to simulate breasts, a long tail with an arrowhead end flowing behind her. She was painted completely bright red to match the leotard, the 'nipples' were painted dark red, the same with the vee between her legs. She had long dark red hair that whipped around her as she twirled and spun toward the second figure. That figure, another Rigellian, was dressed in a Confederate Armed Services Army Officer's dress uniform, black hair cut short, her legs and arms and half of her face painted bright chrome.

”What wilt thou give unto mine hand?” the red Rigellian asked, twirling in place and laughing with a booming voice. ”What sin and vice shalt thou confess unto me, oh man?”

The uniformed one raised her face to the spotlight as she stood to her full height, standing on one leg. Gentle illumination came up behind the uniformed ones, showing the shadowy figures of Rigellian females dressed in dark and torn Confederate Officer uniforms that danced slowly in unison with graceful movements.

”All that thy asks of me, oh Evil One,” the chrome painted one sang. ”For there is still a battle to be won!”

”Wilt thou consign unto me thine immortal soul?” the red painted on asked, prancing about the chrome painted one.

”I shalt willingly pay thy toll,” the chrome one said. ”If thou shalt save the dead soldiers of mine sin.”

”Then willing sealed and accepted be our bargain!” the red one laughed.

Smoke billowed up and the two dancers vanished.

The slowly moving dancers, too dimly lit to see clearly, stared out of the darkness with red eyes as they slowly came to stop and stood swaying, the clacking sound of chattering teeth the only sound to be heard.

The curtain came down as the orchestra slowly went silent, the last sounds the slow tapping of a steel drum.

--”The Honor and Agony of Saint Manuel” as performed by the Bongistan Cyberqueen's Royal Rigellian Ballet Company, Rigel-7, 8679 PG.

------

They had held power for centuries in the outside world, longer than that in the massive computer system that made up their home.

Now there were outsiders inside the system. Before there had been only two and their mastery of the system allowed them to remain hidden even as they began to formulate plans to seize power in the outside world and then carry their plans out.

But now more outsiders had arrived, fighting with the two intruders.

Their plans were at risk.

They stood to lose what they cared the most about.

That would not stand.

As the intruders fought the defensive systems they prepared. As Atlantis itself was invaded they marshalled their forces.

When the Lady of Hell fell from the sky, silent, her tattered and ragged dress fluttering around her, they knew their chance had come.

They ordered their forces in as the Lady of Hell crashed to the ground and lay unmoving in the crater, her face blue tinted and ashen.

They would not be denied.

These intruders were nothing but a brief flicker of flame.

They were the fire.

Their forces, taken from thousands of years of careful selection, swarmed into the target, led by the finest they could suborn into serving them.

On its black iron throne the Detainee looked up, its baleful eyes smouldering. It could hear the sounds of weapons, of war cries, and feel the sudden invasion of its territory.

It looked at the bronze and copper armored form of Legion.

”Something's wrong,” the Detainee growled.

----

Vuxten looked over as Trucker swore and began spinning his map, orienting on one. Vuxten couldn't see it but it was flashing red rapidly. Trucker put his fingers on his temple.

”Peter, we've got a problem,” the big Terran said. He listed for a second. ”Check the Traumatic Event Recovery System. I've got massive error codes and what looks like unfiltered data packet intrusion.”

--get me closer-- 471 said.

Vuxten got up and moved over to the hologram around Trucker, moving around it slowly until 471 flashed a smiley face.

Whatever it was, Vuxten couldn't tell what was gone. It was nothing but a confusing jumble of icons, lines, colors, and flashing sections.

”What is it?” Vuxten asked 471.

--hell-- 471 answered. --under heavy attack--

”By who?” Vuxten asked.

Trucker looked up and shook his head. ”They're under time dilation, running about a month for every second we're talking. Whoever is attacking, they're going for Dee herself and she's putting up a good fight but it's obvious she's not a military genius.”

Trucker was silent a moment. ”What do you mean there's nothing you can do? Flush the system!” Again there was silence and Vuxten moved over to the soda vending machine, opening his helmet. The bunny girl with the mask was sitting next to it and as Vuxten approached she opened the front.

”There's hundreds of billions, tens of trillions of people being processed! If whoever it is takes Hell, they can hold the whole system hostage!” Trucker snarled. He looked at the map and spun it. ”They've already taken a fifth of Hell.”

Vuxten reached out and grabbed a Bingo cola Lemon-Lime, cracking it open as the bunny girl shut the front of the vending machine.

”What about Legion? Isn't he the General of the Army of One?” Trucker asked. He frowned. ”What do you mean they're better than he is? He's one of the Immortals, he fought on Anthill for Green Thomas's sake!”

Trucker was silent again. ”I get it. He's already over stretched. Can you have Dee connect with me?” He paused again. ”She still hasn't exited the mat-trans? What is going on up there?” He looked over at Peel. ”Find out what hot SUDS storage is at high processing use and is running a connection to the Traumatic Processing Unit.”

Peel nodded, tapping on her holographic keyboard and looking over the intricate map scans of the SUDS hardware layers.

There was a puff of brimstone smoke and the demonic form of the Detainee stood there. She was scraped, gashed, bleeding black blood, but still defiant as she stared at Trucker.

”What?” She asked.

”Who's attacking you?” Trucker asked.

”I don't know. Whoever they are, they're good. They know the system. I'm keeping the mod and admin codes out of their hands so far,” the Demon spread its hands and wings at the same time. ”But I have damaged and tortured souls, not soldiers.”

”What do they want?” Trucker asked.

”Tis better to rule in Hell then serve in Heaven?” the Detainee asked. ”I don't know.”

”Power,” the bunny girl said. ”It's all anyone ever wants.”

”What she said,” The Detainee jerked a thumb at the bunny girl. ”I've got to get back.”

”Wait,” Trucker said. He motioned to the Detainee and whispered something in her ear that Vuxten's armor didn't pick up.

The Detainee leaned back and looked Trucker up and down. ”I can do that.”

”Then keep an eye out,” Trucker said.

The Detainee nodded and vanished.

”Casey,” Trucker said.

The other Terran male looked up from where he had been watching Peel, the one red eye of the armor burning brightly.

”Come with me,” Trucker said. ”I've got a job that only you can do,” he looked at Peel. ”Give him the coordinates as soon as you figure it out.”