WP3025 Chpt 36

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==Chapter 36 - Winged Praxis (Battletech 3015 CYOA)==
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===Working to making a difference===
Red Rivers, City of Crimson
Salonika (Continent), Canopus IV
Magistracy of Canopus
22nd June, 3015
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“You, Mr. Zalman, do not look like someone much in need of our ministrations.” said Benedetta Abelard as she watched me walk through her office door flanked by Terri and Diane.
 
“I wasn’t much interested in conversion,” I said, closing the door behind me. Le Chan Abbey had been quite a surprise to walk through. I had expected the greeting by a provocatively clad novice, along with the bas-reliefs of various pleasurable activities. That much had been telegraphed by the statuary outside and the Magdalene Church’s reputation. I hadn’t been prepared by the Vietnamese water puppetry pool, in which a collection of sisters had been rehearsing a Gnostic parable. It wasn’t just a high grade whorehouse dressed up as a convent. They hadn’t just tossed a stripper pole under the cross.
 
“Few men do when they first come to us,” riposted the abbess, a severe looking woman with the sort of looks that age only added character to. “Many change their minds.” She waved her hand at the seats before her desk.
 
“It’d make Eema cry,” I said, taking my seat after the two ladies, and noting the glass-faced case of impact toys that peeked out of an alcove. The selection was varied, but the ruler caught my attention most of all. “So that’s a no-go.”
 
“So why are you here?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “I know you’re the newest Landynski.”
 
Vixen stifled a chuckle. Terri managed to suppress hers entirely, offering up a polite smile. “Gideon’s status with the Landynskis is complicated.” she said.
 
“Yes, I would imagine,” said the Abbess. “Are you looking to make some sort of feel-good donation for greater legitimacy?”
 
“Not exactly,” I said. “Though I understand your abbey is one of the main hubs of charitable giving and community aid in Red Rivers.”
 
“We are,” she said, in the neutral tone of someone who doesn’t much like who they’re talking to but needs to be polite. “I can suggest a number of charities that could use an infusion of dollars.”
 
“I’m more interested in the mutual aid organizations.” I said. “Though if you think any of the charities do good work and it’s in the budget, I’m happy to discuss setting up an endowment.” I saw her eyes go wide. Maybe now we were getting somewhere.
 
“I…” she recomposed herself. “May I ask why you’re interested in mutual aid?”
 
“Because the difference between Red Rivers and the Landynski complex offends me on a deep, personal level.” I snarled, observing with pleasure the surprise in the abbess. “And while I can’t fix it right now, I intend to do what I can to level out that difference.”
 
“Very admirable,” she said, rallying. “but you didn’t answer my question.”
 
“I,” I said, tapping a finger on her desk, “have approximately zero faith in a charity industrial complex set up to provide legitimacy to nobles and to control the politics of the nation.” I did my best to ignore Terri’s stiffness by my side as I jerked my head back towards the exit. “The walk here didn’t exactly disabuse me of that notion.” Folding my arms, I sighed in exasperation. “I figure the best thing to do is to find the parts of the community working to make it better and empower them. Bottom up, not trickle down.”
 
“I can,” Abelard paused for a second, “yes, I can help with that. Are you talking about cutting checks?”
 
I nodded. “As a start. Again, endowments if and as possible. I’m a believer providing steady resources when I can. If you think it’s worthwhile, I can offer advice on how to tailor entertainment to catch the eyes of Southwesterners. They’ll have C-bills to spend soon enough. I can also provide work.”
 
The abbess’s expression grew stormy. “I see. This is a recruitment drive then.”
 
Vixen rolled her eyes. “We’re not exactly going to turn away people coming looking to sign up.” She shook her head. “Look, Abbess, we get it. We’re Leaguers, sure. But we’re not going to lie about the risks of mercenary life, and it does pay well.”
 
“In C-bills,” said Terri. “C-bills that flow back into Red Rivers.”
 
“Besides,” said Diane. “Hubby really is hot under the collar about the living standards here.”
 
Which was true. Frankly, I wasn’t entirely happy with how far ahead the abbey was compared to its surroundings but… “I’m working with what I have,” I said. “I’m not going to pretend that I’m trying to get something as well, but that doesn’t mean what I’m offering is worthless.”
 
“I understand,” she said, reaching into her desk for a folder, which she slid over to me. “This is a list of charities that do good work in the area. As for mutual aid organizations, I’ll have to make some calls. Not all of them are going to be willing to work with you, for any number of reasons.”
 
I took the folder, and sighed. “I can appreciate that.” I said, handing it over to Terri, who I knew would have a far better eye for the specifics. “Do you have a quiet, at least semi-private place where we can go over this?”
 
Despite herself, the abbess laughed. “I imagine we can find a private space for you. We do have occasional need of them.”
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Deep Discussions of Religion and the Current Situation
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“You know,” said Vixen as she lay on the bed, idly kicking her feet. “Nice as these digs are, we aren’t exactly using them to best advantage.”
 
I looked around the brother’s cell that had been made available for us while Terri looked over the charities the abbess had suggested. It didn’t exactly match my understanding of a monk’s cell, but well, Magdalenes. The bed was firm enough to withstand some vigorous activity, and large enough to accommodate two, three at a stretch. I’d already found clips and tie-down points without much of a search, and I had no doubt that some of those cabinets did not hold holy texts.
 
Though if I was being honest, their contents might be classified as ritual tools. I grunted and flipped a page in the pamphlet I was reading.
 
“Seriously,” said my wife. “It’s got to be heresy for us to not at least play a bit here.”
 
I caught Terri’s frown out of the corner of my eye and sighed. “It might be against their doctrine for people to use a cell that way without the occupant present. Besides, I’m a Jewish. Not my religion.”
 
“I could convert,” said Diane. “I’ve seen worse religions.”
 
“You really want to follow a religion that focuses on a whore?” asked Terri, sounding disgusted.
 
“Second and first oldest professions, T-bone,” said my wife. “It’s not that much of jump.”
 
“Actually,” I said, “I was wrong about that. Apparently Mary Magdalene is a completely different character than people think.” I waved the pamphlet. “According to this, she was a wealthy woman who helped to fund Jesus’s ministry. And in Gnostic tradition, an apostle of his.”
 
Terri blinked. “You believe that?”
 
“Given that the conflating of the Magdelene and Mary of Bethany, who might have been the ‘sinful woman’ who washed Jesus’s feet can be traced back to a sermon by Pope Gregory in 591, yeah, absolutely.” I shrugged. “Speaking as an outsider, I don’t have warm and cuddly feelings about the papacy during that period…or ever, really.” A bit of trivia bubbled up in my mind. “Still credit where credit’s due, I think he was anti-forced baptism.”
 
“Is that the chant guy?” asked Diane.
 
“Maybe?” I said. “Again, not my religion.”
 
“He was,” confirmed Terri. “He’s responsible for the consolidation of the Church in a lot of ways. Very highly regarded.”
 
I shrugged. “No one is all good or all bad. But given gender relations at that point, I’m hardly surprised.”
 
“It’s not like they don’t play into the whore thing,” said Terri, gesturing to the room about us.
 
I nodded. “It’s an interesting swap of asceticism for hedonism, yeah.”
 
“Canopus.” said Vixen.
 
“Canopus.” I repeated.
 
“So, speaking of converting,” said Diane with a stretch. “Should I be doing that? To Judaism, I mean?”
 
A look of horror spread across my face. “Oh. Oh no. No.”
 
Diane looked hurt. “What’s so wrong with me converting?”
 
I scrubbed my hand across my face, then pinched the bridge of my nose. “Converting for the sake of a marriage is one of the traditionally disqualifying reasons in Judaism.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t work the same way that Christians do. We don’t proselytize. We’re not looking for converts. Some people who aren’t born to it feel an overwhelming need and fascination with Judaism. Conversion is for them, to make sure that those Jewish souls can live Jewish. But for others?” I shook my head. “Judaism isn’t for them. If you’re thinking about joining another religion…” I trailed off.
 
Diane pursed her lips. “I think I get it.”
 
“Part of why I’m uncomfortable here,” I admitted. “I despise proselytizing and anyone who does it.”
 
“Not that you’re too much on whores either.” said Terri.
 
At Vixen’s questioning eyebrow, I explained. “The only reason someone should have sex with me is because they and I want to. You know that’s my rule.” I clicked my tongue. “And that it’s okay with my lovers,” I amended.
 
“A prostitute doesn’t have to take your business.” pointed out my wife.
 
“Doesn’t she?” I asked. “The financial pressure can make it a matter of life or death. Even if it's just a matter of quality of lifestyle, it’s not about the experience, it’s about the money.”
 
“Couldn’t it be both? Because I’ve known some people who enjoy their work quite a bit.”
 
“Good for them, and vaya con Dios,” I said. “Sex work is work, and no shame in that. But if it isn’t a firm yes with no other reasons, I’m not interested. Rules are worth less when you break them when it’s convenient for you.”
 
“Is that why you’re so twisted up about our whole situation?” asked Vixen, gesturing to encompass the three of us, even as Terri did her best to focus on the files.
 
“Mas o menos,” I said. “There are other considerations.”
 
You should tell her, mouthed Vixen.
 
I started to shake my head, only to be cut off by a laugh from Terri. “What?” I asked. “Did you find a good charity?”
 
She shook her head. “Middling at best. But it might be promising.”
 
“How’s that?” asked Diane, scooting over to look over Terri’s shoulder.
 
“When we were still trying to figure out what to do with Gid’s marital status, I had the idea of finding a disgraced Canopian noblewoman who would owe Gid for what he brought to the table.” Terri tapped a sheet of hardcopy. “I might have just found one.”
 
“Hoa Bian Thuy,” I read. “Huh. Girin Baronessa with a Hardcore seat. Why’s she on this list?”
 
“She’s from Red Rivers,” said Terri.
 
“Makes sense,” I said. “Guess she has some nostalgia. So, what’s the scandal? Does she have beef with House Landynski?”
 
“Not as far as I can tell,” said Terri. “but I haven’t done any serious research on her. I just remembered the name from some gossip I overheard. Apparently she advocates for greater trade and alliance with the Free Worlds League.”
 
“That can’t be popular,” said Diane.
 
“More than you might think,” replied Terri. “There’s an undercurrent of discontent with the Magistracy only allowing for one form of government among the underclass. Hoa was one. She, and others like her, think that the League allowing various forms of government below the federal level is something that could help the people who are just scraping by.”
 
Diane gave a wry smile. “They must not have spent much time on our side of the border.”
 
“When a system is shitting on you,” I said, “pretty much any alternative is going to look good. C-bills to crullers men make up a bunch of this movement.”
 
Terri nodded. “I wouldn’t take that bet. Women still tend to be the leaders, but…”
 
Men didn’t tend to get raised to the peerage remained unsaid. And with free cross-border trade being a privilege of the nobility and the cultural impetus towards women leaders… “Well, at least she’d likely be willing to work with us,” I said. “That’s enough for a scandal, though?”
 
“It might be,” said Terri, smiling. “but that’s not all. There’s rumors she was sleeping with the Magestrix’s late husband.”
 
“The one that SAFE might have compromised?” I damn near yelped.
 
“The very same.” replied Terri, looking like the cat who ate the canary.
 
“Oh,” said Diane, giving Terri a big hug. “That bitch will hate it if Gid starts making nice with Hoa.” The look of vindictive pleasure on her face as she thought about the Magestrix’s consternation was equal parts intriguing and disturbing.
 
“Es verdad,” I said. As much as taking back some autonomy sounded good, I did at least have the ruler’s favor for the moment. “Pero…”
 
“I’m not saying you should fly off to Hardcore and start talking marriage alliance,” said Terri, frowning. “But we can at least reach out. Making a donation to her charity is low-commitment, and it looks like she actually is doing some good work here when she gets funds. And you do need to look into your Hardcore holdings eventually.”
 
I nodded. “Makes sense. Let’s look into her a little further though. We’re still vulnerable.”
 
Terri nodded. “I’ll do that. But right now, I’ve had just about enough of this place.” She closed the folder.
 
“Awww,” said Diane. “No celebration over your find?
 
Terri shook her head. “This place creeps me out.”
 
I shrugged, dropping the pamphlet. “I suppose I’ve had my fill of people asking me if they can attend to my spiritual needs for a week.”
 
“And here I thought that was a cute pet name,” said Vixen. “Fine, I’ll put back the wimple I stole.”
 
I’m not sure who’s sigh was deeper, Terri or mine.
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===..then everything goes to Black===
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“Mr. Zalman, Mr. Zalman!” called a fair skinned novitiate as we walked down the steps of the abbey. “The abbess wanted me to…”
 
That was as far as she got before my instincts shrilled at me and I dropped to the ground, a split second before a shotgun’s report smashed any sense of peace remaining in the decayed park. My hands flew towards my holster and sunglasses, even as I landed hard against the stairs.
 
Stars exploded through my vision as the stone steps hammered into my spine and my breath left me in a convulsive gasp. Not smart. If I had just gone for the weapon and cushioned my fall with the other…
 
No time. Another shattering shotgun blast, and the hat was snatched from my head, face and scalp peppered by stone chips from the stairs. That was too close. If I hadn’t balled up in pain…I wasn’t going to get lucky three times.
 
I pointed my right hand at the obvious gunman, fist full of Nakajima, and stroked the trigger, even as he ran the slide on the shorty pump gun. There was a buzzing series of cracks, an eye-searing flash, and a wet-sounding bang as the laser flash-boiled his fluids, ripping his chest apart with a steam explosion.
 
The gunman’s corpse spun to the street. Even as it thumped down, I heard the faint sounds of my lovers screaming at me to get to cover. Blinking to clear the stars from my vision, I scrambled for a statue of three intertwined women, swearing at my poor hold on my sunglasses, which I had lost in the fall.
 
It was only when I saw the cheek of one of the stone ladies dimpled by a smear of lead and copper that I realized we were still being shot at. 
 
Pressing my back against the base of the statue, I evaluated our position. The novitiate was balled up on the stairs of the abbey, screaming her head off, which, while it wasn’t smart, was at least understandable. I gestured for her to run, but she wasn’t paying attention to me.
 
My mind snapped to more pressing matters. By the sounds, there were at least three other gunmen, and at least one of them had an automatic weapon and some idea of what they were doing with it, given the short bursts I was hearing.
 
Good news, I didn’t hear any other lasers. At least I was in charge of any further damage to my precious, precious vision, damn my worthless sunglasses! They lay out of reach on the exposed stairs, shattering under stray fire as I watched.
 
Risking a quick peek, I saw that the park was still full of panicking civilians, running this way and that as the echoes of gunfire bounced off of the warrens of Red Rivers, lying to them about where danger lay.
 
One of the gunmen rushed us as I watched, only for his feet to go out from under him, a red hole opening in his cheek as Terri caught him with shots from the slimline compact gyroslug that she favored ever since the Battle of New Olympia, exhaust trails drawing lines back to the cover she’d chosen.
 
Terri scrambled as the bastard with the automatic opened up on her hide, Jesus’s marble robes fragmenting and falling in chunks over her. I directed laser fire back at the muzzle flash, hoping to suppress the gunner more than to hit him, even as I hoped Terri’s cry of pain was from a superficial wound.
 
”Carajo!” I swore as I flinched back from another packet of buckshot joined by what had to be rifle rounds. “Terri, are you okay?”
 
“Fine!” she snapped with a pained tightness in her voice that didn’t fill me with confidence.
 
“Vixen?”
 
“Oh, I’m just dandy.” said my wife, reloading a surplus FWLM service automag. Taking a moment, she pulled back her hair into a ponytail. “Not exactly the fun I was looking for, but it’ll do.”
 
That was a point. Was this hit team intending to catch us in the monk’s cell, or had they always been intending to catch us as we left? Who had put them up to this? Who were their allies?
 
Why hadn’t I called into my band of professional soldiers? Idiota.
 
I pulled out my comm. I could hear the background hiss of jamming, but my Camlann-built comm cut through it with little trouble. “Den, Coyote Actual, priority. Troops in contact, Le Chan Abbey, Red Rivers. Estimate three plus active hostiles…”
 
“At least seven!” yelled Vixen before rising and cranking off half a mag.
 
“Correction, seven plus active hostiles. Friendlies taking heavy fire. Over.”
 
>>“Coyote, Den, copy troops in contact. Wait one.”<< I did, taking the opportunity to send coherent light back at muzzle flashes. >>“Coyote, we have a jump trooper platoon practicing helo maneuvers in the air, callsign Lobo. Chopping them your way and patching them in, over.”<<
 
“Den, Coyote, outstanding news. Lobo, say ETA, over.”
 
>>“Coyote, Lobo. ETA five mikes, over.”<<
 
“Remember I sign the checks and don’t mind the complaints from ATC,” I said, breaking radio discipline with a gallows laugh. “Coyote will hold, out.”
 
“Hope so!” shouted Terri as her gyroslugs hissed over my head. “Seven live hostiles is looking optimistic, and they’re closing in.” I heard a flat whack and a choking gurgle before someone sat down abruptly for the final time. “I fucking hate fighting on the ground.”
 
I growled something in agreement before hard illuminating the automatic muzzle flash, setting the foliage that concealed them on fire. “Standard MAF squad is ten, yeah?” The gunner’s return fire knocked a forearm and chunk of breast away from my statue as it drove me back into cover.
 
“You think the bitch is behind this?” asked Vixen, grunting in satisfaction as she dropped a riflewoman with a spurting leg wound. “And they run up to fifteen!”
 
“Doubt it!” I yelled back. “They went for me first!” I chased a subgunner back into a ditch with laser pulses. “Everyones a conscript here, even the gangers!” Not that you’d know it by the civilian mob. Could they be in collusion with…no Gid, don’t think like that, that way lies not caring about collateral damage. “Gotcha, manyak!” I snarled, tracking the gunner as they burst from their flaming cover.
 
My shots missed them, but caught their loader instead, smash burning a hole through the woman’s lungs. She went down, tangling up the gunner in a welter of dead limbs and semivaporized gore. I swung the barrel to make sure of the enemy’s most dangerous weapon, and my Nakajima pistol beeped empty. “Lech lehizdayen!” I swore, fumbling for another energy pack as the gunner struggled free from the corpse and got themselves and their gun behind a grassy knoll. “Lucky hijo de puta.” Rifle fire sent me scrambling for a new statue just before a stone face locked in orgasmic bliss would have brained me.
 
The screaming from the novitiate behind us became a broken keening wail as the poor woman caught one of the bullets meant for us. Looking back, her blood was a vivid splash of crimson on the barred doors to the sanctuary. One of her hands pressed against her stomach as the other clawed futilely at the unyielding ironwood of the door.
 
This wasn’t working. We’d been obscenely lucky so far, but our retreat was cut off the locked doors, and they still had the numbers to pin us down and dig us out at will. I dissuaded a young man with a subgun and more balls than brains from his plans of rushing us with my recharged laser, but was driven back into cover as the gunner got back into the fight, going absolutely cyclic with their belt-fed, raking fire across our deteriorating cover.
 
“Hate this!” screamed Terri as yet more falling chunks of statuary pelted her. She stuck her gyrojet out from behind cover and emptied it in a convulsive spate of blind fire. “Fuck off! Fuck you all!”
 
The gunner shifted fire to focus on Terri, marked out by the gyro exhaust trails and my lover screamed, wrapping herself into a ball and doing her best to become as small as possible. I could smell rain and pine needles, jump pack exhaust and plasma cooked flesh, hear the hounds circling as rotors beat the air.
 
>>“Coyote, Lobo Fang, air support on station!”<<
 
The rage caught me like a wave. “Follow my illumination and KILL THAT HILL!” I snarled as I came to my feet and drained the Nakajima’s pack at the knoll the gunner cowered behind.
 
I could see the tracers start to walk their way towards me, then the top of the hill flashed incandescent under the flickering beam of a Blakenburg 9 cm. Every bit of green turned to fire before the soil erupted under the hellish energies of one of my Nightshade’s big beams. I howled a coyote scream of victory. “Good flash Fang! Now…”
 
I was cut off by a series of hammerblows to my side which sent me spinning to the ground where my head cracked against something hard.
 
A moment later, I watched a bloody blade sprout from the heart of a ganger as a subgun clattered from his hands. I pawed for it…
 
Terri crouched over me, gyro pistol tracking some threat I couldn’t see…
 
Jump packs roared and stripped down Mausers cracked, silencing the chatter of assault rifles that opposed them. “Make a hole!” someone yelled… 
 
“Mei men r,” said the familiar blur above me, “ta ma de. Wo zao gai jidao…”
 
Darkness closed over me.
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