From: bkoike@sdcc13.UCSD.EDU (Bryce Koike)
Subject: STORY: The Otherworld (Chapter 13)
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 16:32:39 GMT

                 ___________________________________
                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                     The Otherworld <> Chapter 13

                            :: FORWARD ::

                    Copyright 1992 by Bryce Koike
                         All Rights Reserved
                 ___________________________________
                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
     Any comments, criticisms, opinions, etc, are welcome.  I can
be reached on Internet as:
     bkoike@sdcc13.ucsd.edu
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Date:      September 16, 1996
Location:  Mid-Eastern America
           Otherworld
Time:      9:45 pm

    The woman wiped the sweat from her brow.  A shadow of wrinkles
around here eyes were already beginning to show.  They conflicted
strangely with her youth.  Somewhere, a t.v. was playing old
commercials.
    "Never let them see you sweat," the t.v. spurted.
    She did not laugh.  The rifle in her hands felt strange and alien.
    She activated the recorder in her hands.  She had saved the tapes
that Matt had made and took the time to listen to them on occasion, to
remind herself of what he had been like.  Finally, finally, she had
worked up the courage to speak about him.
    "He died four years ago, today, not in his homeland, but on
foreign soil, no matter how familiar it seemed," she began.  "And
despite his flaws, he was a human.  Somehow, that gave him the
strength and the resolve to sacrifice his petty life for a handful of
people he called his friends.
    "His name was Matthew Ryuko and he was only nineteen years old."
    "Ma'am?"
    She turned and looked at a soldier.  Young.  He had the look of a
Basalian about him.
    "Yes, soldier?"
    "Sir, there's a Quunan Mur embassador here to see you."
    "Thank you."
    She stood and her knees did not cry out.  She was thankful for her
youth, despite the disadvantages it gave her.  Being an attractive,
young woman was not a desirable trait in the leader of military
forces.  Entering the combat room, she could already make out the
gleaming metal of the Quunan Mur soldiers.
    One of them stood.  Four stripes wound their way around its
forceps.  It bowed.
    "I am Tunush del Bakan," it said in its incredibly perfect voice,
"sent by my leader, Looke-Shamal."
    "I'm Captain Tracy Weaver," she said.
    The cyborg paused for a moment.  "You are young to hold such a
high rank in your military."
    "I'm ambitious.  Please, sit.  I won't waste my time offering you
something to drink."
    She walked over to the sink and poured a cup of coffee.  She was
conscious of the guards' stares as she walked, their eyes probably
following her ass.  As she turned, she glared and their eyes snapped
straight forward.
    "Why are you here?" Tracy finally asked, taking her seat at the
head of the table.
    Barely moving, the embassador said, "You do fine work here."
    She sighed.  "You were all so much more damned concise back in the
beginning.  Whoever taught you the skills for small talk should be
shot.  Cut the crap, just tell me why you're here."
    "Soldiers -- human soldiers -- have been requesting for several
weeks now for you to lead them on the west coast of this nation.  We
have come to ask for you to come."
    "And leave this operation behind?  Hell no.  We've paid in lives,
Tunush, and I'm not about to abandon everything to come running just
because my reputation demands it."
    "You could leave another behind to lead your army.  All the
soldiers wish is for you to lead them.  I am certain that the
communications network has brought you word of how we fare."
    Tracy sighed.  The Eternals' war groups in Southern California had
been far better prepared for war than those in the north.  They also
seemed to be receiving reinforcements from unknown areas.  SoCal was
proving to be the biggest hotspot on the American continents.
    "So why not?" she asked herself.  "Put Martique in charge -- you
know he can do it.  They could use you, right?"
    Inevitably her thoughts returned to Him.  Four years ago, today.
She shivered inside.  Matt.  Matthew Ryuko, student of UC Irvine, 19
years old.  Deceased.  Four long years.  The tears came unbidden and
she did her best to choke them back.
    "And if I were to return with you?" she asked.
    The cyborg angled its head for a moment as it thought.
    "You would be placed directly under General Kazzan."
    "I want a separate command answerable only to me."
    "We are not certain if that is possible."
    Tracy crossed her arms.  "It's the only way you'll get me to come.
And I want a full squad of Quunan Mur soldiers permanently attached to
this command here."
    "You demand a lot for your services."
    The cyborgs turned to each other and spoke via their own methods.
No body language betrayed their emotions, if they felt any at all.
    "Your presence is desirable," announced the leader finally, "and
worth the trade you suggest.  You will receive command of the third
legion under General Kazzan and will be fully autonomous.  As such,
however, you will cease to be under military jurisdiction or economic
aid."
    "Understandable."
    "Is this acceptable?"
    "Yes."
    The cyborgs rose with that unearthly grace and bowed deeply.
    Tracy rose and held out her hand.  After a moment's thought,
Tunush del Bakan gently shook.
    "When would you like to leave?" Tracy asked.
    "Now would be preferable.  Your soldiers are waiting for your
command as we speak."
    "Bastard.  You knew what I'd ask."
    The cyborg bowed.  If they could smile, it'd be grinning, Tracy
decided.
    "Of course.  We are the Quunan Mur."
    As they marched out of the combat room, Tracy turned to a private.
    "Find Vincent Santiago and tell him to get his ass out of the
computer room and get his shit together," she ordered.  "And while
you're at it, contact Lieutenant Martique and tell him that he's been
upped to Captain and has been given full command of this operation.
I'm going to California."
    The man didn't even blink, he simply turned and ran.
    Tracy looked toward the sky and felt glad that it was blue.  There
were strange rumors about things going on in Southern California.
Magic, experiments, demonic beasts running the streets of Los Angeles.
She shuddered.  The city was slowly being turned into something the
Eternals would call home.  Pits exhaled a red mist into the sky,
turning the sun bloody.  Scientists were working on its complete
chemical makeup, but it did seem to be somewhat breathable.  Still,
red skies.
    She looked to the Quunan Mur.  "This will be a long campaign,
won't it?"
    It nodded.  "We might not even win."
    Something inside Tracy made her look forward to it with a grim
fascination.

Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives