Futuristic Vicious Hearts [Ambiguity & Myrta]

[Ambiguity]

Vicious Hearts

Myrta​

Spoiler: Oracle

Name: Athena
Alias: Oracle
Age: 34
Occupation: Leader of the Rogue Traders

Spoiler: Iskra

Name: Iskra
Age: 29
Occupation: ... does "goddess of her people" count?

----------
​

It was odd for the Rogue Traders to take jobs. It wasn't their modus operandi. It simply wasn't their style.

Oracle sat within cafe nearest the center of the Trivestyan capital. The whole establishment bristled with life though the patrons present were unaware of the danger that lurked among them. She and her people had been on planet for a week's time. Though the majority of the planet was nothing but endless desert lands, the Trivestyan technology was quite impressive. Whatever the Trivestyan military employed, it rendered the Pantheon's planetary scanner inaccurate.

"It's about time." Logrim, a veteran of the Rogue Trader Shades, sat across from her. He placed a holopad down that contained the daily Trivestyan news. "Our friends should be set up. I heard the party's going to be ... spectacular."

She finished off a scone before pushing away her cup of coffee. Taking out her communicator, she stared at her reflection. She saw a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She always used a face masker when she was off the Pantheon. Only her people knew what she looked like. "Our mutual friend wants things to run smoothly. I hate to disappoint," she said. "Let the others we'll be there shortly. Nothing goes wrong. That'd make for a poor host."

Logrim nodded as he typed into his communicator. "Ready to rock."

Oracle stood up. She smirked and walked out. Logrim and several others followed one by one. They all knew what came next.

---
​

Oracle whistled. The others meshed in with a group of tourists. Or so she assumed. Several drones were flying above the civilians periodically stopping to scan. Though subtle, Oracle could see the fine laser emitting from their cylinder eye sockets. While many in the galaxy resented human augmentation, the traders didn't have such qualms. It adapted the traders to surviving in the hostile environment space brought forth. Keeping augmentations to a minimal, she opted to augment and refine her eyes - among other things. It was a decision she never regretted.

They cased the temple. The artifact was inside, and immediate security was minimal. It astonished her that the target artifact would have so few guards stationed around it. However, beyond the fields surrounding the temple was another matter. If the plan didn't go exactly how her people planned it, a new leader would be chosen for the traders while replacements for the shades lost here would be left wanting.

Taking out her communicator, Oracle sent a message through a scrambled channel. All she and the others had to do now was wait. Wait for the sign before they'd make the grab. Collateral was to be minimized, but the artifact was the priority. The only other thing coming before it was the safeguard of her people. Every trader was worth protecting. There were many of them, but not as many as empires with multiple planets. No trader was expendable in her eyes.

Hearing a faint whistling, Oracle pushed through the crowd and walked towards the temple entrance. As she reached the first few steps, the lights, the technology connected to the Trivestyan computer grid, went dark. The bug worked. They had ten minutes before her agent bugged out of Trivestyan computer hub.

When she reached the landing where the guards were stationed, their voices went silent as they trained their weapons on her. "Stop!"

They dropped seconds later as her shades fired their tranquilizers at the guards exposed flesh. The tranquilizers fired from small wrist devices that had payloads that could drop a Borak - large, towering bear giants. It was overkill on humans, but there could be no mistakes. They'd be up in a few hours.

Dragged behind pillars and out of view, a pair of shades took to the entrance while Oracle and the rest of her group continued to walk in.

Priests and priestesses surrounded the inside of the temple with dozens of devotees lumbering about. Oracle found the head priest, identified after much time observing the location prior to the grab.

Ignoring the gasps from those present, Oracle grabbed the priest by the shoulder and forced him to his knees. She took out a knife and held it to his throat. "Spread out. Take care of the guards at the back. Signal the after party." Several shades nodded and moved to carry our their orders. Oracle looked at the priest squarely in the eyes. "I'm here for the Iskra. Where is it? First impression matters, so I'll be civil. Speak!"

 

[Myrta]

"Are you unwell, lady Iskra?"

The voice of a young priestess sounded strangely subdued to her ears, almost as if it had traveled a great distance to reach her. Perhaps that was why it took her a while to react. Iskra finally looked up from her book and smiled at... What was her name again? Well, it probably didn't matter. People came and went. Trying to assign individual names to the shapeless mass of faces blending into each other was just a waste of brainpower. Brainpower that could be better utilized elsewhere, like in her studies.

"Hmm? No, I don't think so. Why? Do I look diseased to you?" she asked with a hint of curiosity in her tone.

"No, no!" A tiny blush appeared on the priestess' face. "I wouldn't dare to imply that, it's just that you've been staring at the same page for a while and that is unusual, so I assumed..."

"I was merely lost in my thoughts."

"Concerning what?"

Iskra frowned.

"Perhaps, if you focused on your training rather than on interrogating me, you would know that my body can not fall ill. It is highly advisable for you to direct your efforts where they're necessary if you wish to stay by my side."

She felt a pang of guilt as all color drained from the young woman's face, her previous concern replaced by incoherent apologies. Have I been too harsh on her? The question hung in the air for a while before Iskra decided that no, she hadn't. Quite the opposite. Youth and inexperience both excused certain missteps, yet there were boundaries one should never cross. Steering her back on the right track, however crudely, was an act of kindness. The priestess would come to appreciate her guidance one day. And if not, then that was just as well. Iskra owed her nothing. She belonged to her people in the same way they possessed the planet's wide skies and vast deserts, but her thoughts were her own. Nobody had the right to intrude there.

"That is enough," she stopped her in the middle of her monologue, "I believe that you have learned from your mistake. Now help me wash myself."

"Certainly, lady Iskra."

Without a hint of shame, Iskra discarded her robe and walked to the center of the temple. There was a pool embedded in the floor, the water in it sparkling like the rarest diamond, and she chose to just admire the view for a second. Not many Trivestyans had the opportunity to do so. In this way, just like in many others, Iskra truly was blessed. Taking a deep breath, the woman immersed herself in the pool. The water closed around her in a cold embrace against her hot skin and it felt like coming home. This particular cleansing ritual had always held a special place in her heart. The priestess' hands in her hair only intensified the pleasure. Yes, this is nice, Iskra thought as she closed her eyes. It was so easy to forget like that.

Time had turned into a meaningless concept before she deemed it appropriate to crawl out of the pool. The priestess dried her body wordlessly while another of her sisters helped her dress herself. What shall I study today? Ancient runes again? But before routine could swallow her again just like it did day after day, suspicious noise interrupted her thoughts. Iskra headed to its source without thinking and arrived just in time to see the head priest being forced to his knees. She stared at the woman committing the act with wide eyes. Who could possibly dare to disrupt the peace of the temple? And then there was the issue with the Iskra. Wait, what?

"The Iskra?" she repeated after the intruder in obvious confusion.

"No, don't tell her anything!" the priest cried out as he struggled against his captor fruitlessly.

"That would be me. Iskra. Now unhand the priest and explain yourself," Iskra said with the steel authority of someone used to complete obedience. "Do you realize what crime you've committed by trespassing on the sacred land?"

 

[Ambiguity]

To his credit, the priest revealed nothing. Oracle stared into his eyes while he stared defiantly back at hers. Either this Iskra artifact was prized by the Trivestyan's or he was plain stubborn. It didn't matter. Regardless of how clean or violent things became, she'd find this artifact. The Rogue Traders delivered on their word. They'd invested far too much time in this job already. To not reap the reward would be nothing short of total humiliation.

"The Iskra?"

An authoritative voice cut through the whimpering of the civilians and religious persons alike. Oracle turned towards the woman. Her lips tugged downwards.

Why was the Iskra not an it? Why was it a she?

For all the things they collected, traded, sentient trafficking wasn't one of them. Oracle recalled the negotiations and the details of the job in near perfect clarity. The buyer always referred to the Iskra as an artifact. To their credit, the artifact they showed in a picture given to her was quite convincing. However, instead of the unique markings placed on a statue of a woman, Oracle saw a living rendition of the picture. Where was the statue?

But there was no turning back now. She had to make a decision. Whatever followed would be corrected then.

Tightening her grip on the priest, she retracted her hand that held the knife. Instead she balled it into a fist and punched him enough to make his old frame crumple to the floor. Violence didn't please her, but she knew the lines of when to use it and when not to. She'd shown a mercy. A life could've been taken, but she granted it yet another day to draw breath.

"Like the priest said," Oracle raised her wrist revealing her tranquilizer apparatus, "You should've said nothing."

Firing the small dart, Oracle waited for the tranquilizer to take effect. Walking towards Iskra, she checked to make sure the woman was out before taking her eyes off her. She felt the gaze of all in the temple. If looks could kill, she'd been murdered a dozen times over.

"After party, jester here," she said into her communication device. Her people already picking up Iskra while they made their way out of the temple. "Looking to get sky high."

"Affirmative. After party's minutes away."

Oracle changed her frequency back to the shade's. "I've got the goods. Gather up."

A score of affirmatives echoed through her communication set as trader drop ship swooped in from the clouds. As it touched down, she and her people climbed aboard. Breaking orbit a few minutes later, Oracle looked at her communicator. Power had return to the Trivestyan grid.

In and out like ghosts. Her people had done well.

---

Spoiler: Rogue Trader Guardian

The walls of the Pantheon always felt so safe to her.

For the past several hours, Oracle spent most her time questioning the intelligence director how his information could've been so wrong. There wasn't any other way to put it. In all Rogue Trader history, this was the first abduction they'd been a part of. Would it shame the past Oracles that came before her? Perhaps so, but how they dealt with it now would define how future generations - how the rest of the galaxy - would remember her and her people.

Strolling down the corridors of the upper deck, Oracle nodded to patrolling guardians. Sometimes she envied their position. While leading the traders was an honor, it came with a multitude of complexities. Their roles were straight forward as far as she was concerned. Receive and follow orders. Unfortunately, there was no one to give her orders.

Coming to the door that led to the room given to Iskra, Oracle nodded at the guardians as they snapped to attention.

"How's our guest?"

"Not sure if 'guest' is how she sees her stay, ma'am," said the guardian on the right. "All the same, room's comfortable. Docs came and went, food's hot on arrival."

Good to hear and unsurprising. Oracle gave clear instructions for Iskra to be treated with dignity. As far as she was concerned, the Rogue Traders weren't barbarians. Granted, their history of 'pirating' made their reputation somewhat infamous, but they weren't killers. The procured items of interest and traded. Sometimes armed intervention was needed, but nothing on a seismic scale to worry the various interstellar empires.

Activating her face masker, she assumed an appearance of black hair, green eyes, and slightly tan skin. "Open the door. I'm going in. Under no circumstances are you to address me as Oracle in the guest's presence." She eyed the two. "You're aware of external protocols?"

Both guardians nodded.

"Very good. The door."

"Ma'am." The guardian on the left toggled the door controls as it slid open.

Oracle walked in as one of the guardians followed her. The door slid closed behind the two. In truth, Oracle didn't need the guardian with her. Though she was obligated to assume leader-like responsibilities, she believed in leading from the front.

She nodded to Iskra. "I hope the accommodations are satisfactory. You can't leave the room for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, we want you comfortable," she said. Walking towards the table, Oracle sat on the edge as she regarded the blonde woman. "Has anyone appraised you on who we are? Why you're here?"

Oracle already knew the answer to the questions, but she wanted to engage the guest. Now began her hunt on why her anonymous patron wanted a kidnapping rather than an item procurement.

 

[Myrta]

Something told Iskra that no, the intruder truly didn't realize the weight of her sin. For one, she didn't throw herself at her feet in order to beg for forgiveness. No that Iskra particularly desired it, but such was the standard procedure. People kissed her boots for offenses less dramatic than disturbing the sacred peace of the temple. What bothered her more, however, was the fact that mysterious woman didn't even unhand the priest. At least not in a way that could be considered to be in accordance with her wishes.

Iskra let out a strange noise when the priest's limp body fell to the ground. Genuine concern didn't find its way into her voice because the old man hadn't done anything to deserve her love, but surprise certainly did. How dare she?! Water was wet, sun bright and people obeyed her commands. Those were the three pillars supporting universe and one of them had just been reduced to ruins. "Why did you..."

The words died in her throat as the dart hit its target. She looked down at the piece of metal sticking out of her abdomen, disbelief clearly mirroring in her eyes. It didn't hurt, not really. Not more than a mosquito's bite. All in all, it wasn't worthy of her attention. But then her head started to spin wildly and darkness was suddenly taking large bites from her field of vision. The blonde staggered. She blinked, fighting the expanding feeling of emptiness, yet it seemed to feast on her strength. The last thing Iskra saw before the emptiness swallowed whole her was the intruder's face. After that, nothing remained.

***
​

Pain. Pain so intense that it felt like having red hot nails hammered into her skull. Her sense of time and space dissolved in the agony, it took her a few minutes to realize that she was in a horizontal position. What... Where am I? Iskra tried to sit up, a decision she regretted immediately. Something near her stomach moved and it took all her willpower not to vomit here and there. Collapsing back to her initial position, the woman closed her eyes and prayed for the pain to just go away. There were muffled voices in the background, but it was difficult to pay attention. Even if snippets of the discussion reached her ears, the words refused to connect into meaningful sentences.

"... an unusually bad reaction to anesthetics.."

".... recuperate?"

".... yes, but... needs more..."

Iskra gave up, her consciousness drifting away once again.

***
​

Waking up for the second time was simultaneously better and worse. The absence of the splitting headache from earlier did please her, yes. Unfortunately, the return of her cognitive abilities also meant that Iskra remembered her position. Or at least what she knew of her position. That wasn't much, admittedly, but understanding the gist of it didn't require much thought. They had kidnapped her. They had come to the temple, tarnished the holy place with their presence and tore her out of her family's loving embrace. Questions like "who were they," "why had they done it" or "what did they want to do with her" ultimately didn't matter. What did matter was that the temple was empty. Iskra jumped to her feet, panic quickly rising in her chest. She had sworn! Sworn not to leave, bound herself to the altar with the holiest of pledges, and yet--- What if it's my fault?

The thought was utterly irrational, but it wouldn't leave her alone. Iskra had wished to see the outside world. The desire had been so blasphemous that she had never allowed herself to think about it, much less say it aloud, but it had lain dormant within her all the same. What if the wish had seeped into the reality somehow? That's pure nonsense, she said to herself. I am not to be blamed for being trapped in this... in this prison.

The room didn't actually look like prison if Iskra had to be honest. Not that she had seen many prisons, but the scrolls she had read always described them as dark, depressing cells meant to break the prisoners. This place, whatever it was, seemed to be designed with comfort in mind. A large bed, two couches, a night table with a flower in a silver vase. Some pictures on the walls. They had even brought food while she had been asleep, an unknown substance giving off an appetizing aroma which tempted her to taste it. Still, this fake benevolence couldn't fool Iskra. Even though unusual, this was a prison nonetheless. They had stolen her from her people! Ah, her people. What would they do without her? No, she had to find a way to return back to the temple before it was too late.

As if the door could hear her thoughts, it slid open. Of course, such a way of thinking was foolish for a woman accompanied by a guard entered. Iskra frowned. "Are you the one responsible for my imprisonment?" she asked, ignoring her questions entirely. "I do not know who you are or why you decided to kidnap me, but this is not a game. You have no idea what you've caused. I have to return to my temple. It is not too late yet. Release me at once. If... If you do, you shall not be harmed by the authorities. That much I can promise."

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle smiled as her questions were overlooked. But were they? The question that Iskra posed addressed her questions although indirectly. Mulling over what to tell - what not to tell - she pointed towards the window that looked out into the blackness of space. The Pantheon was far from any recognizable planets or space phenomenon. That's how they stayed safe.

"We are indeed. You're in one of our ships," Oracle said, lying about her being on the Pantheon. Their homeship. "I sympathize, but we can't do that. Let alone me. Unlike you, perhaps, I answer to another." Oracle cleared her throat. "I can tell you one thing. Someone paid us to procure the Iskra. They told us Iskra was an artifact. Clearly, that's not the case. So, Iskra, why would someone pay to have you removed? My leader wants to know. I intend to bring them answers."

 

[Myrta]

For a moment, Iskra allowed herself to hope. Perhaps her kidnappers really hadn't known what they had gotten themselves into by daring to lay a hand on her. That would certainly explain the initial confusion at the fact that she was a, well, she and not an it. It was entirely possible that they had only discovered the nature of their crime later on and that they were now looking for a way out. She had offered them such a way, a solution much fairer than they deserved. The basest of all instincts in every living creature was to stay out of harm's way. Wouldn't it make sense for them to want to avoid the Trivestyan wrath?

Apparently not. The woman standing in front of her spoke calmly, almost kindly, but Iskra could sense the steel beneath her politeness. This one would not budge. Something suspiciously similar to horror began blooming in her chest. Vulgarity she could deal with, even cruelty, but bulldog-like perseverance scared her. Such people always got what they wanted in the end. Still, if they weren't lying, then the circumstances of this kidnapping were unusual to say the least. Perhaps Iskra could use the fact to her own advantage.

"So, if I understand this correctly," the blonde woman started, "you've been deceived by your customer. Quite drastically so. And despite that, you still decided to keep your end of the bargain? I do respect professional integrity, but this might be the time to tear up the contract. Since your share of guilt isn't as heavy, I am sure we can work out a solution that will satisfy both sides of the conflict. If you release me and help my people investigate who orchestrated this, you shall be rewarded handsomely." After a second of hesitation, Iskra decided to answer the woman's question, too. It would be good to make herself appear cooperative.

"As for why would anyone have me removed... Trivestya has many enemies. Colonies, former colonies, those who live in the shadow of our glory. I am the soul of the planet. There is no Trivestya without me." Technically true, even if a bit cryptic. Iskra didn't wish to describe her role in detail unless it was absolutely necessary.

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle listened as she always did. It was the informed and circumspect that navigated rough waters. Or so the previous oracle had told her. She was in a position where steel and sagacity remained the main weapons of the Rogue Traders. They were numerous, but they were also few compared to the empires of the galaxy. Numbers were their limitation, which made every decision considered ad nauseam. However, in the end, Oracle issued directives to the directors, and her word was carried out. The burden never forgotten her thoughts.

"No empires are without enemies. An astute suggestion, but one we've considered," Oracle said. "Indeed, we carry ourselves with a very high standard of professionalism; however, we're equally violent to those that deceive us. Whether or not we're guilty of whatever crimes you charge us with, it's moot. Even without your people's cooperation, we intend to hunt down the deceiver. All the same, perhaps there is a mutual accord that'll please both sides."

Tapping her fingers against her arm, Oracle mulled over the current situation. Having the Trivestyan government's aid would certainly streamline the search for their client, but who could they trust? The Rogue Traders never relied on anyone but themselves. It was a de facto law among all who called themselves a child of the Pantheon. No they couldn't use the Trivestyans. Far too many variables to logistically account for. Even so, they had Iskra. The client wanted Iskra. Perhaps they could set a meet point and capture the client. Oracle frowned.

Her earpiece buzzed in her ear, a part of the charade Oracle played on Iskra. She touched the ear piece and listened to Director Jorgen, Director of Intelligence Acquisition. "Oracle what would you have us do?"

Oracle bit the inside of her lip. "Tell O I'm still talking with Iskra. I'll have more information for her soon."

"... Understood. The decision's still yours, but I've been listening. I've dispatched agents to search some leads concerning the buyer."

"I understand."

"Stars guide your, Oracle."

Oracle ended the communication as she returned to the guest. "My leader's been listening. They seem keen on finding the source of the deception," she said. "Unfortunately, my organization doesn't trust large conglomerates, such as the Trivestyan empire." Oracle cleared her throat. "Even more unfortunately, we cannot let you go. I hope you understand. You shall not be mistreated. My leader assures that, and they aren't ambiguous with their words. Iskra, why exactly would someone want you removed? Cooperate with us, and you'll be able to return to your world upon the ... resolution of this tremendous misunderstanding."

 

[Myrta]

Each word falling from the woman's lips buried her hopes of buying her way to freedom deeper and deeper. It wasn't that her offer hadn't been generous. No, it had been way more than that. Only cold embrace of death awaited those who dared to touch a hair on Iskra's head and yet she had promised them a reward for their crime. It didn't matter, though. None of it mattered because money could never heal bruised pride. It appeared that they took the client's betrayal as a personal slight and personal slights were to be dealt with without any outside help. A commendable approach, that much she acknowledged. Too bad that adherence to their precious principles would bring a second Drought upon her home planet.

Fifty five percent, Iskra thought. The percentage of Trivestyan population that had perished during the first Drought. How many would die this time? Would her acquaintances turn up among the victims? Priests and priestesses whose names she failed to remember? Or perhaps the children that had used to bring her flowers every month as a token of gratitude for her protection? Iskra could smell their sweet fragrance even now, god knows how many light years from Trivestya, and suddenly she couldn't breathe.

No, no. There's time. There's still time. The defensive mechanisms installed to serve as a back-up in case of emergency should probably keep the planet alive for a month of two. If Iskra returned before the sands of time ran out, then... No, the blonde corrected herself immediately, not if. "If" was a weak little word for those with no willpower. She had thrown away the very concept of her self in order to become a suitable vessel. The piece of her identity they had carved out so meticulously hadn't been sacrificed just for her to waste her time on uncertainty. This experience? It would only make her stronger. Shielding her heart with conviction, Iskra waited patiently for the woman to finish her little speech. Only after that did she allow herself to talk.

"Hah! Not mistreated!" Iskra tilted her head and laughed humorlessly. "Very well, I understand that begging won't get me anywhere, so I will not embarrass either of us with futile attempts. I also promise to cooperate to the best of my ability. However," the blonde looked up at her interrogator fearlessly, "I shall not speak to you. My secrets, if I have to disclose them, are only for your leader's ears. Take me to the one you call Oracle and I shall tell her everything. I also refuse to be treated like a prisoner, no matter how comfortable my prison may be. Let me be an honored guest instead. Assign guards to me if you must, but grant me the freedom of movement in the context of this ship. You do owe me that much at least."

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle rose an eyebrow. It was an answer she expected, but it was something rarely granted. Only the Rogue Traders knew her identity. No outsiders. She matched the defiant eyes of Iskra. There was a fire in them that seemed vacant until now. It was frustration that filled her but respect. Oracle pegged the woman as an arrogant, sheltered megalomanic with no spine. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. But she had to keep the charade up. At least for a little while longer. The role of an interrogator was far too amusing.

"You're in no position to demand. Regardless, no outsider has ever met with Oracle in person. It's peculiar though. I have not mentioned if Oracle was one or many. Male or female. How peculiar," Oracle said. She tapped her fingers against her arm. "Nevertheless, whether you get your terms or not, I can't answer that. I presume it'll be a no. But know that the longer you withhold from us, the longer it'll take you to return home."

Putting her fingers to her earpiece, Oracle got up from the desk. "My time's up. The guards will be outside. Use the intercom to requisition what you wish. If it's within reason, you'll have it. If not, you won't." Walking towards the door, the guard opened it. Oracle turned around one last time. "I look forward to our next chat, Iskra. May it be more forthcoming."

 

[Myrta]

Once Iskra discovered the courage burning within her heart, it couldn't be restrained. Just like water from a broken dam, its uncontrolled stream swept away everything in its path. "Then I shall be the first outsider to ever enjoy that privilege," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. Very few people managed to sound as authoritative as Iskra when she truly put her mind to it. Somehow she looked taller, her fragile posture more threatening. "Tell your commander that her choice lies between my conditions and my silence. If this Oracle of yours can not release me despite the circumstances surrounding my kidnapping, then she should at least address me with respect. No intermediaries. Isn't willingness to face their mistakes a mark of a good leader, after all?" That may have been going overboard, but Iskra hardly cared. The anger over her situation, so far carefully suppressed, emerged to the surface. How dared they to kidnap her for a reason as stupid as being tricked into it! What an insult!

Her lips stretched into a tiny smirk as the woman wondered about her knowledge regarding Oracle's identity. "I have my sources." Specifically you, but you don't need to bother yourself with that fact. No, let her wrack her brain over the mystery. Oracle seemed to be both their leader and their most zealously guarded secret. Knowing more than she should, despite it being a pretense, gave her an illusion of power. Not all battles were fought with swords or blazing guns. Even a hostage could play mind games. "Yes, farewell," Iskra nodded her head. "May Oracle decide wisely."

The automatic door closed after the woman left and Iskra found herself alone once again, her only company deafening silence. That made her grin. It wasn't difficult to figure out what her captors intended. Deep down, most people hated themselves more than any external enemy ever could have. Prolonged isolation was the most severe of punishments. But to Oracle's great misfortune, Iskra had rich experience with fortifying her mind against the specific flavour of numbness isolation brought. She had always been alone, even amidst her faithful ones. Especially amidst them.

Iskra sat down, not on the comfortable couch, but on the hard floor, and closed her eyes. Doubts tried to infiltrate her thoughts ("What if I'm wrong? What if I'm only making everything worse for my people? Should I call her back? Surely she'd come..."), but she quelled them with practiced ease. Iskra was dealing with ruthless criminals here. Nothing guaranteed that her unquestioning cooperation would ensure her safe return back to Trivestya. Getting to meet Oracle in person wouldn't do that, either, but at least Iskra could see for herself what kind of a woman she was. Could she be trusted? Would it be safe to reveal her cards or did it make more sense to keep her mouth shut? That could never be determined from the contact with her subordinates alone.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Iskra's breathing got slower and slower as she entered her meditation-like trance. Not once did the blonde ask for anything, but her guards still turned up at regular intervals with food. The plates, however, remained unnoticed.

"Uhhh... You won't eat?" one of her guards finally couldn't deal with his curiosity.

Struck with a sudden flash of inspiration, Iskra opened her eyes. "Not until Oracle agrees to meet me. Make me and I'll puke." With those words, the woman went back to ignoring her environment once more. Yes, let them think that she was starving herself. Iskra's unique biology actually allowed her to go without any sustenance much longer than regular people, but her captors weren't aware of that. They wanted her healthy and alive, didn't they?

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

 

[Ambiguity]

Still unbeknownst to the captive, Oracle had been meeting with her several times a week. While she conjured up various different personalities with a unique face on her masker, Iskra was stubborn. She meant what she said that she wouldn't cooperate or talk if she couldn't talk to Oracle. No outsider had ever met with her as Oracle. She wasn't about to break that tradition now. Regardless of the circumstance. She just didn't trust Iskra, and she bet Iskra didn't trust her.

Sitting in a chair in the conference room, all the directors of the many branches of the Rogue Traders were present. Each had a speciality, but each director was wise in their own right. Oracle believed in open dialogue, understanding various perspectives. In her mind, it's what kept her people relatively safe while keeping her decision grounded in facts. There was only so much she could do to account for every minute detail. After all, she was still human with a few augments here and there.

"I'm against it. Knowing Oracle is knowing our leader. Knowing our leader weakens our position." Director Caryl scrunched his face. The veteran guardian was perpetually paranoid. Alert to every potential danger in a situation. It was a paranoia Oracle welcomed, most of the time. "Iskra wants to starve? Let her. Even the strongest bull breaks to hunger."

"But that's not how we run things," said Director Marral. She led the justice and ethics department. "We aren't savages--"

"Nor are we humanitarians!" Caryl said. "I will not see my - our - family be undone because of some stranger's demand."

Marral clasped her hands together. "If you should interrupt me again, Caryl, I'll--"

"Enough." The two directors quieted as Oracle rubbed her temple. "Two valid points. Jorgen. What news from your contacts?"

Jorgen sighed and shook his head. "The client's identity remains illusive. I've people looking for any leads. All we have is hearsay at present."

"Unfortunate."

"Apologies, Oracle. We'll find him. Her. Them," he said. "But an alternative to our predicament. Use a face but claim you're Oracle."

Oracle smiled. "Deception," she said. "Satisfies her condition. Keeps us safe."

Jorgen nodded.

Looking down on her terminal, Oracle sighed when she saw the list of outstanding matters they still had to talk about. Food production/procurement. Refueling. These were supposed to be easy maintenance tasks, but they weren't when secrecy was implemented. Whatever the case, she had a plan for Iskra. At least that was one bother off her list. She had the perfect face to wear too.

---
​

Again, like the weeks leading up, Oracle stood in front of the door that Iskra was kept behind. She nodded to the guardians as they snapped at attention. Caryl trained the Rogue Trader's guardian branch well. For a trading centric people, their offensive capabilities were much but necessary. Alongside the guardians, the common soldier of the traders, there were the shades (special forces), and the vanguards (quick striking units). Though the traders once belonged to the Federation, they retained the military discipline with their modifications. Their fleet wasn't something to scoff at either.

Oracle changed her face once again to the blonde with blue eyes that she used to abduct Iskra back on Trivestya. Time to shake things up a bit.

"Just me this time. You two stay out here."

Hadrean, the name of the guardian that'd been stationed here since Iskra's arrival, stiffened. "With all due respect, ma'am--"

Oracle silenced him with a finger. "All will be well. I'm capable of defending myself."

Hadrean stared at her before nodding. "Apologies, ma'am."

"None needed," she said before walking into the room.

Ignoring her usual spot on the desk, Oracle instead walked towards Iskra and sat next to the woman in silence. Her gaze shifted from Iskra towards the window that stared out into the darkness of space. It was nice. How long had it been since she simply stared into oblivion expecting nothing in return?

She mustered the voice she associated to this disguise. "You'll recall a woman with black hair. Green eyes," she said, caring not if Iskra listened or not. "She had a slip of the tongue. Hence, why I'm here. Unfortunately, you've been unreceptive to the others that came after her."

Looking at the food on the tray, Oracle pulled it towards her. It was cool now. "So the reports were true. You haven't been eating. Shame." Oracle picked up a slice of fruit and popped it into her mouth. "Our cooks are good at what they do. We know more about you Iskra. Your function on your world courtesy of those questioned. Humanely of course." Oracle's gaze centered squarely on Iskra now. "You asked for Oracle. I'm here. As much as my people protested against it."

 

[Myrta]

The following weeks proved that her captors weren't lacking in patience. Day after day, they sent new interrogators always asking the same questions. They never even raised their voice, much less laid hands on her, but they pushed for their precious answers with steely insistence of debt collectors. And she? She matched them in their stubbornness. Lost somewhere in the vast expanse of the space, Iskra didn't have much. Not her status, not her believers, not even her freedom. What she did have, however, was her pride and the young woman intended to fight tooth and nail to keep it intact. A daughter of Trivestya would sooner cut her own tongue out before she went back on her word.

Most of the time, Iskra didn't even acknowledge her interrogators' presence, preferring to linger in the strange place between dreams and reality instead. When she did bother to open her eyes, they could only see defiance burning in them. The delicious aroma of the food they brought each day didn't break her, either. Hunger was gnawing at her insides cruelly at this point, almost like a beast trapped within her body, but the feeling couldn't shatter her resolve. Sheltered she may have been, however her old life in the temple hadn't failed to prepare her for hardships. Seemingly endless fasts had been a part of her routine for as long as Iskra could remember. This one wasn't even the worst she had faced so far.

The small seed of fear that had been planted in her mind the second after the dark haired woman had left back during the first day was steadily growing, though. What if her bullheadedness proved to be a liability in the end? How could Iskra ever live with bringing such a destruction upon her people? Would she even have the right to continue living if they had to die because of her? The string of mirthless thoughts was suddenly interrupted when the door to her chamber opened once again. Iskra looked up instinctively, ready to dismiss the newcomer in the same manner everyone else had been dismissed so far, and her heart almost stopped. She would recognize that face anywhere.

"You... It's you," the woman finally spoke, her voice slightly hoarse from the lack of use. "The one who kidnapped me." Stating the obvious wasn't Iskra's usual modus operandi, but seeing the blonde again shook her. She could still see the head priest at her mercy, feel the dart piercing her skin. And now it turned out that this person who had flipped her world upside down was also the Oracle she had demanded to meet. Iskra hid her surprise behind a mask of aloofness.

"That doesn't matter," she started. "Whether your cooks are good or not, I mean. Food is nothing but fuel. If it's too delicious, it only leads to gluttony." Speaking about irrelevant things helped her regain her composure a bit. Perhaps she was just lying to herself, but Iskra did feel more in control of her situation after the small lecture. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Oracle. I wouldn't peg you as the type that does her own dirty work considering all the mysteries surrounding your identity. How can I trust you that you are who you claim to be, though? I have no frame of reference. This could easily be just a new interrogation tactic, to send a subordinate who claims to be the leader."

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle laughed. "Gluttony. That's something my people seldom indulge in."

Taking another piece of fruit from the tray, Oracle chewed on it. The tangy sweetness and crunchy texture made her moan in pleasure. It'd certainly been too long since she enjoyed herself even in the presence of her guest. Sometimes nostalgia and rumination could strike at odd hours. As it was right now.

"A pleasure as well, Iskra. Though this isn't our first meeting. If it's any consolation, my people tell me the priest is alright. That man. There's much activity on Trivestya after your ... unexpected kidnapping." Oracle smirked at Iskra's words. "A leader shouldn't forget the less delicate tasks leaders often push onto others. You don't know if I'm telling the truth or not. You have but my word. But what do you know? Oracle is a woman. Courtesy to first contact aboard my ship."

She ate another piece of fruit then pushed the tray towards Iskra. "Eat. Then I'll tell you who I am and who kidnapped you. My directors don't want me to say. That's not their choice though. But first," Oracle pointed at Iskra, "Eat."

 

[Myrta]

Oracle, provided that it really was her, certainly proved to be... different than expected. Iskra's imagination had painted her as a stern woman who never allowed anyone to see her human side, but that picture didn't survive its first contact with reality. Oracle was actually laughing. Nobody laughed in her presence. Ever. Laughter had been deemed too vulgar for her ears and exposing her to such an uncontrolled burst of emotions would have undoubtedly led to a punishment. Iskra didn't quite know whether to feel righteous indignation or be fascinated by the spontaneity of her reactions, so she suppressed both in favour of cautiousness. Oracle was probably just trying to appear friendly in order to win her trust.

Doing her best to ignore the joyful sounds of eating, Iskra focused on her words instead. "Yes, I am very much aware. It is... rather difficult to forget the details of our first meeting. Still, I wished to do this properly." The world hidden behind the temple walls may have operated under rules divorced from ordinary customs, but etiquette remained similar even there. "Oh," Iskra smirked slightly, "I can imagine that they are quite restless. I happen to be very important for my people." So important that they would gladly move heaven and earth just to find her. So what if they faced the ever-expanding universe? Trivestyans were notorious for defying the odds.

"In theory yes," she nodded, "but rarely can you see a leader who lives by this principle." It was an assessment of the situation, not a compliment, and Iskra's carefully neutral face conveyed the sentiment. "And as much as it pains me to admit it, it appears that I will have to accept your word for the time being. You can not give me any conclusive confirmation even if you wanted to, so I will take that leap of faith." Not that I have a choice.

Hesitantly, Iskra grabbed a small piece of fruit. The promise of finally sating the hunger almost made her stomach sing, but it didn't please her in the slightest that she essentially had to give up one of the few weapons she had in her arsenal. "I will still puke if I find your answers unsatisfactory," Iskra warned her before finally, finally putting the fruit in her mouth. An unknown flavour exploded on her tongue and by gods, it really was delicious! "What is this?" the woman asked absent-mindedly as she ate. "I've never had this fruit before."

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle watched as Iskra took the fruit. Through the wonderfully neutral face of hers, Oracle thought she saw something like desire. Wanting to end her fast and satiate what her body desired. This was speculation however. To Iskra's credit, the woman was guarded on what she revealed to others. It was something she could appreciate in others.

As Iskra ate the piece of fruit she picked up, Oracle grinned. "It's a fruit far from the Trivestyan empire. The tribe of Gnoir call it Jaakos (JAA - KOHS). I'm not sure what its equivalence is for you." Leaving the rest for Iskra, Oracle began to filter what she could share without revealing too much about her people. "About a week leading up to your kidnapping, someone contacted us about a job. 'Steal the Iskra. You'll be well compensated.'

"I was shocked when you happened to be Iskra. It wasn't suppose to be a kidnapping. You've probably never heard of us. Very few meet with us except through our proxies," she said. "Currently, you're in the care of the Rogue Traders. Normally we stick to buying and selling very ... high value things. Contracts are taken on the side to keep ourselves connected to galactic affairs. Much to our dismay. We'd rather be left alone."

Oracle lifted a finger to her ear piece. "A few more Jaakos to Iskra's quarters, if you will."

The response came back instantaneously. "Yes ma'am. Shall we provide anything else?"

She pondered a moment more. "Just Jaakos."

"Yes, Oracle."

Deactivating the channel, Oracle recrossed her legs. "Truthfully, I don't know who asked for your kidnapping. We're trying to pinpoint the source," she said. "We'd like to keep this investigation in-house. Too many opportunities for leaks. I hope you understand."

 

[Myrta]

"I'm not sure if a Trivestyan equivalent exists. Never before have I heard of anything similar," the woman revealed. What she didn't reveal, however, was that her ignorance concerning the topic didn't necessarily mean anything. The priests had filled her head with history, philosophy and images of faraway places, but what would be regarded as mundane knowledge by many was just a large blind spot in her mind. Food belonged to that category. Pleasure provided to the body distracted from the matters of the spirit, they had said, and so Iskra had spent majority of her life eating different variations of rice with vegetables. She hadn't even seen many other options since the priests were restricted to the same diet.

Well, at least I can say with certainty that my old diet made the fasts comparatively easy. It didn't require that much willpower to give up the tasteless, bland meals prepared by the temple. Now she had to employ every ounce of it to eat like a civilised human being instead of just stuffing the fruit in her mouth all at once. Oracle still seemed to register her appetite, though, and Iskra watched her order her subordinates around with wary eyes. Does she hope to bribe me with food? I'm not a simpleton of such a caliber! Nevertheless, the kindness was still appreciated on some level.

"... Thank you," Iskra muttered. Basic decency never hurt, not even when she had every right to treat Oracle with contempt. Or perhaps she actually didn't if the story the enigmatic leader had just told her was indeed true. "So, all of this..." Iskra made a sweeping gesture with her hands, "... all of this is to protect your people? Not just a petty revenge to get back at your customer for having been deceived?" As the days spent in captivity had morphed into weeks slowly, it had become evident that they hadn't lied about kidnapping her accidentally. Had there been a purpose behind taking her, they would have done something with her by this point. The safety angle was something Iskra hadn't considered before, though, and the missing piece of puzzle finally completed the picture. Smugglers unaffiliated with any big players on the political scene couldn't afford to have their data stolen. "I do respect this position," she said, her voice barely louder than whisper. "I, too, only wish to protect those placed under my care."

A task at which I am currently failing by the virtue of being stuck on this spaceship. Iskra bit her lip. Perhaps it would be wise to reveal some of her cards in return for the snippets of information she had been given. Trust was a dance for two, after all. "You said you know more about me now. What exactly do you know?" With Iskra's powers largely shrouded in mystery and priests' efforts to keep it that way, it wouldn't surprise her if Oracle's findings were less than accurate.

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle nodded. "Then we are but two leaders trying to do what's best for our people," she said. "Us Traders pride ourselves of staying outside the politics of known space. One such extension of this is infiltrating the agencies of large conglomerates, like Trivestya, but keeping ours isolated. A game of intrigue if you. Wandering the galaxy brings one upon many marvelous things, equally, horrors that are better left alone. It'd be best for the nations to be ignorant to both lest a new warfare is created from objective knowledge. Though suing for peace, war inevitable finds its way to even the saint. The humanitarian. Many examples exist."

The door opened as a guard brought in a tray of the fruit Oracle had requested. She beckoned the guard over and pointed a spot between Oracle and Iskra. Picking up another fruit, Oracle bit into it. She made sure that Iskra saw. "Not poisoned. No drugs. Just fruit. Like I said, you're a guest. Not a prisoner. Not an enemy."

When the guard removed himself from the room, Oracle considered Iskra's question. From what her agents reported back, Iskra was an icon. A leader though the Trivestyan leadership seemed rather convoluted. There were rumors, but Oracle wasn't prepared to accept those as fact. They were hearsay until tangible evidence could back them up. Her Intelligence Director offered for more persuasive means of information acquisition, but she firmly ordered against such action. There was no need to escalate the situation further. She had no ill will to the Trivestyan Empire.

"I know many things," Oracle said. "The issue is what's real and what isn't. My agents are only so accurate - unless they pry the truth. Which I have little doubt that they could. Out of respect for the situation, I've asked them to stay civil. You're an icon, a leader to your people. That much is clear. You have something to do about the arid conditions on your planet. Religious blessing or something. Someone even told one of my own that the planet dies without you. Perhaps an exaggeration.

"There are further rumors, but each rumor sounds increasingly superstition as opposed to fact," she mused out loud. "Regardless of what's real, what's not, I can understand why someone would want you. Leverage. Whoever controls the religion in your empire may control the people. The people, as with any great empire, hold the true power. What empire would it be if its own people resented and resisted? A broken one. Civil strife. Terrible yet beautiful to witness."

 

[Myrta]

Iskra took another piece of fruit without hesitation. "I trust you, at least in this regard. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so already." She had rejected food stubbornly throughout her stay on the ship, but drugs could have been forced into her system by myriads of other methods. Most of them were considerably less pleasant. Still, they had treated her with respect, or as much respect as one could possibly imagine in a situation as inherently messed up as a kidnapping.

The Oracle's answer caused her to smile. It was a shy, nearly imperceptible gesture devoid of any happiness, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one Iskra had cracked in years, too. It felt foreign on her lips, almost as if her facial muscles had forgotten how to perform the moves necessary. "Ironically enough, most of that which you consider to be plausible isn't true. That which you deem to be too fantastical, on the other hand, might be closer to the reality. I can't blame you, of course. You aren't Trivestyan. An outsider can never fully grasp it."

Iskra fell silent for a while, struggling with the proper description herself. How could she expect this woman to accept what would doubtlessly sound absurd to her ears? Oracle seemed to be thinking so differently from her people. How could Iskra make it comprehensible to someone whose mind was trapped by the confines of logic? To someone who apparently rejected everything that didn't conform to their worldview on principle?

"You said that we are both leaders, you and I. I'm not, though. Far from it. I do not make any decisions that affect my country. I'm not in contact with any of the leaders, either. To be more precise, I'm not in contact with anyone. Before you kidnapped me, I had never left the temple. I don't even have a name. Iskra is more of a title given to those in my position. It means Spark in my language."

Speaking so much was unusual for her and so she had to stop for a while to collect her scattered thoughts. "It's funny that your client should refer to me as an object, actually, because that's a very Trivestyan school of thought. This is essentially what I am. A revered object that serves a very important purpose." Iskra looked Oracle directly in the eye for the first time since the beginning of her monologue. Her gaze was sharp.

"Call it a superstition if you have to, but it's true. Without me, or someone like me, there's no rain. The scientific method relies on repeated experiments, doesn't it? Centuries of experience confirm what I've just said. It's verifiable even by your standards, Oracle. Whoever wanted me gone targeted my people. Although I suppose that there could be some other motive," Iskra conceded. "Like blackmail."

 

[Ambiguity]

Oracle listened, intrigued. What she considered plausible was untrue, but superstition being closer to reality? Such claims weren't uncommon, for there were a great many charlatans out there in the universe. Was Iskra genuine or simply cunning? Indeed, there were things outsiders could never know simply to being born outside, but regardless, where Iskra would go with this explanation Oracle would listen. Folly begets those that remain ignorant of all sides before acting. Failure was often the reward.

It all did sound too far fetched. How could one person control whether it rained or not? How could a mere person control the environment or even provoke precipitation? Her people had reported hearing Iskra living a life of seclusion in her temple, but those within the government and the civilian populace revered her. As if she were a goddess. Perhaps gentler knowledge gathering wasn't as accurate as direct action. There was never such need for Oracle to handicap her people before in their work. This was a special case.

"A cog in the machine. An object replaceable once you've fulfilled your use. What a sad thing to be," Oracle said. She reached out for another piece of fruit. "Living a life of isolation, yet your people revere and cherish you. Is it because of love or because out of respect for the role you fulfill? So many nuances the Trivestyans have. Very alien. Especially your control over the environment."

Oracle tossed the piece of fruit in her mouth and chewed slowly before swallowing. She needed more information than what her people obtained so far. Deaths would certainly be better left undone, but she needed to understand Trivestya. From what Iskra revealed about her position within society, she was the wrong person to understand and eventually chase down the client that hired them. The client didn't trick the traders. Oracle simply didn't do enough research into the matter. The mistake was hers.

She looked at Iskra, her gaze hardening ever so slightly. "While I may not be as attuned to Trivestyan logic, don't discount your significance to your people. You may not lead, but whoever has the name Iskra behind them holds the political power on your world," she said. Neutralizing her expression, Oracle already knew what next steps she had to take. Things were starting to make sense though many more remained shrouded. "A danger with isolation is individual progression but not seeing how the world around you changes. But now we delve into the realm of socratic discourse. Thank you for your candor, Iskra."