… An ethereal star, distant yet present. An impassioned force, burning with purpose. A jester, a fool, a genius: he rolls the rice with a grinning face.

  Fate is but a song: written by a minstrel proper; played by an amateur; mocked by the audience.

  

  Naomi

  ???, Passenger Hold, Wesnmen’s Coallition Trading Barge

  

  Thunk… Thunk… Thunk. The sounds of huge foot falls accompanied the unpleasant jostling sensation of being carried with little care over Jemer’s massive shoulder. A shoulder that was tense enough that Prism could almost feel their owner’s worry and stress. It might have been sad, had said owner not been more than happy to take as much of the ship’s crew as thralls as possible.

  Prism and System’s own contracts with the hell spawn orc troll-ling were technically passed, though she hadn’t brought up signing a new one yet. It was likely she wanted to solve the current ‘insurrection’ first.

  A soft hiss punctuated the rapid thumps of Jemer’s feet striking the ship’s metal floor as they passed through the airlock between the passenger hold and central bridge.

  As much as the shoulder-tension bleeding worry was an illusion, the fine sieve of mana in the ranker’s body was not. Prism could clearly feel the turmoil her and System’s little act had caused. She was worried, scared. Terrified. The fear and slowly building stress due to suspecting System’s true abilities were related to mind control now ran rampant.

  The emotion should have clouded the woman’s keen mind by now, forcing her into a state of pure reaction. The sheer strength of the shaman’s horror and panic were unexpected, though they had counted on their ploy causing confusion and uncertainty. This was by far a best-case scenario for them.

  Not least because it allowed Prism to act more directly without fearing discovery. In fact, Jemer recognizing her tampering would likely back her even further into the corner they’d designed for the O.F.F. commander.

  I should get started. Prism realized, reluctantly pulling her attention away from her careful orchestration of celestial movements within her soul. She’d spent the last several hours building better synergies between the larger and more-likely-to-be permanent bodies. Jemer and her personal guard had taken quite a long while to finally retrieve Prism and her escort. Most likely due to Jemer’s growing paranoia. It was likely she’d had to strongly consider whether the entire thing was a trap.

  In the end, she’d realized System wasn’t strong enough to take a ranker on by himself. Not yet, at least. Truthfully, Prism and System could have lead a bloody coup to take the ship at any time. They almost certainly would have come out victorious. The main reason they were continuing the complex plan was due to a desire for a near bloodless coup. Not out of any sense of morality, per se.

  Rather, their plans had evolved over their time aboard the ship. Not least because they had made several genuine friends among the many allies they had collected and didn’t want to see them suffer. Beyond that, Jemer had long since executed the original ship’s captain. Which, according to Chaven, meant a successful coup would legally place the space vessel under the command of whoever the coup’s leader was. In this case, that would be herself and System.

  As to why they would want the ship, the answer was quite simple. System thought it’d be, “bloody cool”, and Prism saw it as a chance to create an independent power base. Something she increasingly realized she would need, should her ultimate design of breaking the oppressive system of near-slavery be achieved.

  A sudden mass of spore-like suggestion bubbles suddenly popped into Prism’s soul-space. This was not a new, or unexpected, development. It would have been strange for Jemer not to take the opportunity to try and further solidify her supposed control over Prism given her ‘helplessness.’ In fact, the woman did this every time Prism slept or even meditated. So far as Jemer was concerned, she’d never noticed.

  In reality, the amount of suggestion-spores the orc had invested into Prism had allowed her to create a small moon, which was currently orbiting her star of determination. At first she’d been hesitant, worried allowing the previously nefarious foreign bodies so close to her first and most prized star would harm it. Thankfully, her theory that the opposite was more likely had been spot on. The spore-moon changed over time, becoming more and more aligned with her own desires.

  She’d even tested their propertiesrepresented once. On a certain goblin who they wanted to give Jemer a very specific message and act in a very specific manner. When she thought deeply about the event and her use of clear mental manipulation, it made Prism a bit uneasy. She wondered at times if she was following a path of ‘the ends justify the means.’ In the end, she had put aside the questions for the sake of completing their missions. She and System would have to discuss the morality of their actions later. Not now.

  Jemer’s latest motes of mental manipulation didn’t even have to be actively captured and converted. Instead, they naturally gravitated to their kin and joined their mass of their own volition. Prism could see Jemer’s influence on them fade and join the rest of the moon which she alone owned.

  During their first encounter, Prism had thought the orc could somehow tell she was stealing her mana away. She’d since realized that wasn’t the fact. The only thing which clued Jemer into realizing she wasn’t affected was Prism lack of understanding of what the motes were intended to do. She hadn’t acted in a manner consistent with what the shaman had tried to impose on her. Now, she knew how they worked.

  The motes weren’t so much mind-control as they were suggestions. Something like how hypnosis had once been thought of and shown in movies. The motes carried with them an intent to make their victims feel or act in a certain way. They could easily be resisted by anyone who understood what they were and had a strong will. The strength of their affect was largely one of mystique and expectation.

  Jemer’s initial use of the spell, or ability, Prism didn’t know which, was a good example. She’d used a very large dose of the power all at once, which made their impact immediate and strong. The weaker willed of their group succumbed immediately, while their failure to resist weakened the resolve and caused the rest of the group to fear and expect to be similarly dominated.

  Prism’s version was essentially the same, though she was able to use them in a much more refined and specific manner than Jemer could. The orc appeared to only be able to cast the spores with an intent and let them work. She couldn’t monitor what they were doing or assist them in any way. Meanwhile, Prism could to an extent by filtering the emotions of her victim through her mana to verify they were working as desired.

  Thumb, Prism felt her body land on a semi-soft surface. She suspected it was the cot which Jemer had brought into her own quarters a few weeks ago. The shaman refused to leave Prism unobserved even overnight. It may have started due to suspicion of betrayal. Now her desire to keep Prism close was purely fueled by paranoia. Paranoia which had both been ramped up and cracked by this latest staged encounter with System.

  After all, half of why the captain wanted to keep the ‘daughter of Nothing’ near was to protect her from mental intrusion. It was supposedly a specialty of all who followed ‘the path of The Empty Nothing.’ Now it had been proved that Prism’s ability to protect herself from System’s mental manipulation was non-existent.

  Given Jemer’s own manipulation seemed to be working, she’d finally realized her plan of using Prism as a backup protection was badly flawed. The roiling emotions flowing through Prism before returning to Jemer just about confirmed her thoughts.

  Another group of motes settled into Prism. It was unusal enough for the woman to send multiple batches that she looked them over more carefully before they were sucked away.

  Ah, that explains it. This batch wasn’t supposed to pull her deeper into a predisposition to trust and obey Jemer. Instead, they were demanding she wake.

  Letting out a soft groan, Prism slowly blinked her eyes. She pulled her consciousness out of her soul very slowly, doing her best to simulate the groggy feeling, and thus actions, of waking from a deep sleep.

  “Je… Jemer?” she muttered, bringing fingers up to her eyes and rubbing them, trying to banish the drowsiness from her sluggish mind. It’s a good thing I’ve had so much acting practice recently.

  The only new emotion Prism felt from her captor was relief. She suspected no deceit.

  “Prism! Thank Gothrog’s Teeth. Tell me what happened.”

  Her voice was full of compassion, concern for an underling. Her emotions were enraged, scared, and uncertain.

  “System. This is captain Jemer. I will accept your offer and allow you to leave this ship peacefully. I give my word as a Hell Spawn Orc. On my honor and the honor of my people, you shall have safe passage to the surface and will be left in peace.” the intercom cracked through the ship.

  Prism watched Jemer as she stepped back from the intercom mic, her shoulder tight.

  “She seriously planning to keep her word?” System asked the moment she accepted his little mental request to join his channel.

  Her face remaining impassive as she watched her ‘boss’ pace back and forth, waiting for something, Prism answered. “No. She’s definitely planning to double cross you. She feels scheme-ey, though. She can’t let everyone see her openly go back on her word.”

  “Scenario C, then yes yes?” Chaven popped in. Apparently he’d already been in the channel before System brought her in.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Yes.” Prism answered, that did seem like the best fit given how everything was going.

  Jemer spun around to stare at Prism with wide, blood-shot eyes. She hadn’t slept since they’d ‘caught’ System only to lose him immediately. That was a week ago.

  “Prism, I need your help. I need you to do everything in your power to shield my mind from intrusions. He’ll definitely try something.” Her voice was ragged, croaking. Nothing like the proud and grating tone she’d had when they first met. When she demanded they prostrate themselves to her.

  Prism inclined her head, “Of course, Ms. Jemer.”

  Relief flooded the orc. Rather, relief tried to. Prism only allowed a whisper of the emotion through. Over the last week, she’d been siphoning off a larger and larger portion of the woman’s positive emotions. She was left with almost nothing but paranoia and fear. Her body had stopped trying to send pleasure altogether or excitement two days ago.

  Interestingly, Prism was fairly certain she could defeat the ranker herself here and now if she chose to. Probably. System disagreed, which kept her from trying. He ran at least ten simulations a day of her trying to kill or disable the orc in various ways. According to him, as soon as she realized it was Prism manipulating her rather than System they lost all advantage and were summarily slaughtered. Too bad. The potential from defeating the woman would be undoubtedly massive if she could have managed it on her own.

  

  Jonah

  Concourse A, Central Bridge, Wesnmen’s Coallition Trading Barge

  

  Quick, confident, long strides carried System down the corridor. It was packed with beings, most of them falling in line to stride shoulder-to-shoulder behind him. The walk from the passenger hold to the central bridge was a long one. Beyond the frankly ridiculous size of the spacecraft, which was significantly larger than his home city of Glasgow, the path between major sections was often winding.

  The winding paths were necessary to maximize usable space, a fact which he’d learned well over the last weeks of examining every inch with his RTS View. Without the ability, he’d never have realized just how truly massive the ship was. There were three entire sections neither himself nor Prism had ever personally entered. Though, their network of allies extended throughout the entirety of the vessel as their ‘ambassadors’ had spread.

  Usually, traffic within any section was minimal. Beings had their schedules, their roles, their habits, which kept the thoroughfares and concourses clear. That rule was utterly shattered today, as hundreds, then thousands of feet thumped in near-unison behind System. He lead their march toward the hangar bay, where Jemer had promised to meet and allow them all out.

  Meanwhile, Jemer herself would be hiding one hangar over. At first, she’d wanted to stay far-far away from the entire procession, but Prism had carefully coaxed her into ‘deciding’ she needed to be nearby in case things went tits-up. The orc’s backstabbing plan was quite simple.

  She’d told a trusted engineer, one hob goblin named Koog, to vent the hangar once their ‘guests’ arrived. Of course, Koog would be doing no such thing.

  “Is she in position yet?” He sent impatiently, not really wanting to continue this stupid march. As cool as it felt to be quite literally leading thousands of people, it was also terrifying. They were putting far, far, too much trust in him. Every one of them had lived longer than him. Every one of them had longer with their insights and mana aspects. Most of them had even been rankers at some point, for fek’s sake!

  Prism’s answer was calm as always, “She’s dragging her feet. I’ve reduced how much fear she’s feeling, but I think that’s just making her exhaustion more evident and harder to resist. I don’t know when she last slept.”

  “What about you? Have you slept? Or have you had to stay up to keep her emotions balanced… Or is that unbalanced?”

  “I’ve been taking what I need from her loyalists. Her personal guard are as dead on their feet as she is.”

  “Good thinking.”

  He took the next right and approached the airlock to their destination hangar, one ‘hangar bay E5’. The massive group swarmed in. Two groups formed standing in front of each of the airlock doors, keeping them from closing between dozens of strong arms and mana aspects suited to the task. Even if Jemer somehow hit the ‘eject’ button herself, she’d hesitate to destroy the entire hangar wing. It would truly cripple the ship and its ability to generate any kind of profit. After all, this particular vessel wasn’t equipped with teleportation capabilities of any kind.

  “We’re here.”

  

  Naomi

  Hangar Bay E6, Hangar Wing, Wesnmen’s Coallition Trading Barge

  

  Following behind Jemer, Prism’s mana absorbed the clicking of her boots on the metal and the swishing of her dress. She removed the sounds of her breathing, even her scent. Without looking behind herself, Jemer had no way of knowing her most trusted advisor was near. A fact made evident by the orc’s frequent checks behind herself.

  Her paranoia was at an all time high, though Jemer herself would never know that. Most of it was being siphoned off. Instead, she was afraid, tired, and ever-so-slightly angry.

  Prism wasn’t erasing her presence with the sole intention of terrorizing her foe. Rather, it was her intention to cause discomfort. More importantly, though, she was keeping the orc distracted. It had become increasingly difficult to keep the woman’s raging emotions in line with what Prism wanted. Beyond that, she had moments of sudden calm which she could only interpret as periods of clear thought. A clear headed shaman was a hundred times more dangerous than a paranoid one. Therefore, Prism had to come up with subtle ways to distract the orcish woman, helping her avoid anything as undesirable as rational thought.

  One of the eight personal guards escorting Jemer and herself to this ‘meeting’ stopped in front of the airlock and tapped the access panel. It opened with a familiar hiss and let them in. Stepping through, the airlock slammed shut. It was down to this, then. Annoying that we had to do all this song and dance just to get the woman into position.

  “Open comms with hangar bay E five.” Jemer croaked.

  The large display mounted on one end of the huge, mostly empty, hangar flashed to life. Jemer gasped and fell. A resounding boom resounding and echoing in the otherwise silent space. System stood in front of a mass of beings, all staring up at their own display.

  “So many…” Prism heard Jemer breathe.

  The orc’s attention well and truly captured, Prism turned and walked toward the other end of the bay. She listened to the conversation with half her attention, the other half occupied by maintaining the erasure of her presence. She hadn’t figured out how to properly turn invisible, unfortunately as it would have made this easier, though she thought it would be possible with more time to practice.

  “How?!” Jemer screamed at the screen. Then, before System could answer, “I am only allowing you to leave!”

  “These are my people, where I go, they go.” Was the cocky response, one which ill suited Jonah’s true disposition. I’m not the only one who got some acting practice in.

  “I’ll never allow it!”

  “Ready?” System’s voice came through privately to Prism.

  She closed her eyes and constructed a tight suit out of her mana. She used the techniques Jemer taught her, creating a beautifully thick mesh rather than cloud which would be easily dispersed. The threads of her mana were alternatively positive and negative. The former let anything she desired leave her soul, while the later would pull what she wanted in.

  She charged the positive parts of the weave with atmosphere, compression, stationary pressure, heat, oxygen, stability, strength, resistance. Meanwhile, the negative would absorb suction, cold, vacuum, and all the other void-of-space things and concepts she could think of.

  Carefully, she used one of the manual override handles to open a maintenance closet. Stepping into it, she closed it behind herself and replied, “Ready.”

  “Yo-” Jemer had started to speak again, apparently growing impatient in the delay between her demand and System’s answer.

  “That’s fine, we don’t need your permission. Actually, we don’t need you, either. Koog, if you would?”

  “Gladly, System.” Koog’s throaty voice answered. The energy field separating the hangar from the vaccum of space flickered off.

  

  Jemer

  Hangar Bay E6, Hangar Wing, Wesnmen’s Coallition Trading Barge

  

  “That’s fine, we don’t need your permission. Actually, we don’t need you, either.” The cocky human spoke. He winked at her. Winked. She could have crushed the impudent little man when they first met. Instead, she’d tried to coerce everyone to her side. He’d have made such a good thrall. She’d nearly been able to taste how weak-willed he was, not to mention he was small and weak.

  She staggered as the hangar’s energy field snicked off. She stood in stunned disbelief as all eight of her personal guards were pulled from their feet and jettisoned at speed into empty space. The ship itself was still moving. She’d had the crew move them several clicks away from Motrendi, not wanting to violate their litter laws and face fines from the many factions who would make claims.

  The pull of space wasn’t enough to claim her, of course. She was Jemer of clan Unduule. It was a shame that her new human pet was likely already dead. Her warriors would probably take several hours to perish, she’d have time to retrieve them later. The human girl wasn’t versed in using her mana to protect herself from the dangers of space, though.

  The thought brought with it a crashing realization. She hadn’t seen the girl after entering the hangar. She spun in a circle. She couldn’t be sure. Prism had most likely just been pulled out too quickly for her to notice, the ship was moving after all. Yes.

  But… Hadn’t things begun to spin out of control only after the girl had joined her? No, she’d been the most helpful assistant Jemer had ever had! She’d probably try and track her down after putting down this insurrection, actually. Yes. She would make the girl a proper shaman. A shaman and Daughter of Nothing both, what a combination!

  No. Could she even be a… Her tired mind stuttered to a halt as something struck her in the temple. Moments later, Jemer came back to herself. She was on the ground, hands and knees clinging to the metal of the hangar’s floor. The entire thing was depressurized now. All danger of being jettisoned had passed.

  With a snarl, she rose and glared up at the viewing screen. Defiance written large on her face. She didn’t bother speaking, no sound would survive the hangar without any atmosphere. Instead, she began to cycle her nature’s avatar mana through her body, following the ancient patterns of her people. Those taught to her by the O.F.F. Her body bulged, strengthened by mother nature herself!

  Had she been on a planet, the life-force of all natural life on its surface would have come to her aid. She would have spread her domain and nature’s queen would have wrought fury upon her enemies. Even without nature’s aid, her mana would strengthen her sufficiently. She could destroy the entire ship, should she need to. She would route every single traitor. She would remove their entrails and enact rituals to curse them through their next life.

  Swiftly, she spun toward the airlock. Long steps taking her forward as her fury built toward a crescendo. She would break-

  Once again, her mind stopped. This time, it wasn’t due to anything striking her as it passed. Instead, all thought failed as she saw Prism standing calmly in front of the airlock. Her hands were clasped in front of her in that dainty, yet dignified, manner she favored.

  A sad smile was plastered on her face, an unfit show of emotion for a Daughter of Nothing. Then she held her hand out and a star was born.

  She found herself staring toward a distant ship, a ship which by all rights should have been hers. Full of beings who should have been thralls. She only saw the ship for a few brief moments before it had passed, but she swore she could feel Prism’s uncaring gaze watching her. A flash of blue indicated they had turned the energy shield back on, likely saving the ungrateful human’s life.

  Jemer died for the fifth time since her arrival. Ingloriously, in the vacuum of space. She had never reached the heights O.F.F. promised her. Worse, each time she re-spawned the conditions of their contract became more restrictive. Less trusting.

  She stared at the UICI’s impersonal prompt, asking her whether she’d like to respawn or Enter Tutorial.

  With a sigh, Jemer of clan Unduule chose Enter Tutorial. If some clueless human bitch could defeat her, what hope did she have of ever being great?