Private I'm the Man in the Tube

[Meliant]

UNKNOWN LOCATION
GRASPBORN HIDEAWAY

Attn: Mercy

Unconsciousness was a state for people with meat-bodies. Meliant could not fall unconscious, but dissipation could make him unthinking. Insensate. And it would last until all the particles came back together and then a little while longer. That had been more than enough time for certain, enterprising individuals to put him in a tube.​

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The minute he came back to himself, Meliant started thrashing around in his glass enclosure. He looked almost like a miniaturized tornado: a swirling pillar, lashing violently this way and that.​

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Despite his confusion, he could still make sense of his environment. Some kind of rusted-out laboratory. Probably repurposed. A greasy, unkempt spacer was keeping watch - one of the Graspborn, though Meliant hardly knew it presently.​

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You. The Dark Side Elite's will in the Force extended beyond the enclosure, amplified by indignant fury, and ensnared the spacer's mind. Kill yourself.​

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The spacer unholstered a crude looking blaster, positioned it snugly beneath his chin, and pulled the trigger. A single fluid movement, performed with the same ease and certainty one would use to open a can of soda.​

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At such close range, the kinetic force of the energy bolt tore a hole through the spacer's chin and exited through the crown of his head, splattering the ceilings and floor with the expected viscera. The corpse hit the floor with a heavy thud. More of it leaked out.​

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It dawned on Meliant he could have compelled that man to release him instead. It was this new frustration that he applied directly to the walls of his enclosure, causing cracks to form along the surface.​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

The footsteps would warn Meliant first and it wasn't difficult to imagine who was approaching the room. Few people had a stride like that and were directly involved with Meliant one way or another.

Mercy stepped on through and immediately noticed the corpse in the room.

"You know, that's gonna be a mess to clean up." Mercy said dryly, stepping over the body and approaching the pod itself. The cracks were difficult to miss and Mercy looked pointedly at the smoke. "I would like to point out that glass is the only thing standing between us. If you prefer the view from the other side, please... do go continue what you are doing."

She still wasn't entirely sure how to hurt a creature like Meliant.

Electricity? Water? A huge vacuum? At the very least it seemed that without the armor, he had ceased to be as much of a nuisance he had been before.

"You might like to know that your Emperor has lost Atrisia. His Death Star has been destroyed, quite a bloody nose." The amount of money and resources poured into building a monstrosity like that must have been a record-high. It would have been a blow for an empire that spanned the Galaxy, it must be even worse for a Core Empire.

"The Alliance collapsed as well, but they have been rotting from the inside for a while, still quite a nice bonus. The Sith are fine though, as is the Imperial Confederacy for now."

Mercy waited patiently for a reaction from the smoke-entity.

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

There were no eyes to be seen in the cloud, but it somehow gave the impression of glowering at Mercy. The tube did not shatter and the storm inside suddenly stilled. Meliant was listening.​

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The Alliance collapsed? Who gave a shit about the Alliance? They were only cattle so far as Meliant had seen. Something to be butchered and consumed to grow stronger. Their performance on Coruscant and Arkania had been abysmal, but something must have changed for them to snatch a pyrrhic victory at Atrisia.​

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What had it been? ​

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Oh, yes. Sith had been there to fight Sith. Imperials had been there to fight Imperials. Fire had beaten fire while the Jedi whimpered and withered on the vine. Pathetic. But they weren't the ones stuck in a tube, were they? The dark cloud roiled with both contempt and resentment. ​

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Gears turned in Meliant's head, insofar as he possessed one. Their crunching came readily into Mercy's own mind. The Emperor was in that tower with me... Where is it? Where is he?​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

"The tower was claimed by your brother as his war-spoil." Mercy said of Hasuras Na-Gerra as she studied the storm-in-the-bottle. "As for your Emperor..."

It was a curious case.

Mercy had declared her renewed challenge, claiming the second fight. There had been a heavy duel at the heart of the spire. A ship controlled by the Emperor himself, apparently, driving itself into the spire to cut it off of the Death Star. Ships that arrived from Gerra's fleet to yank it with them. Then hyperspace. Somewhere between then and them reverting back out of Hyperspace they had lost track of the infamous Core-Emperor.

"He is gone. Just as he disappeared during the first duel after I declared a Kaggath against him."

She reached out and lightly tapped on the surface of the pod. At the very least the hammering had stopped, these pods were rather expensive apparently.

Head tilted there.

"How does it feel, serving a man that doesn't finish what he starts, disappears when the going gets tough, but somehow still manages to attract the worship of drooling malcontents?"

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

"How does it feel, serving a man that doesn't finish what he starts, disappears when the going gets tough, but somehow still manages to attract the worship of drooling malcontents?"

The storm cloud began to swirl violently in the tank again, drawing itself in, roiling and undulating with anger. It slowly congealed into a more humanoid shape and - perhaps alarmingly - a crack of crimson-red lighting flashed within its hazy frame.​

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Hunched, tensed, hands snapped into a claw-grip as if ready to strangle someone, anyone. A very intimate, hateful form of violence that perfectly encapsulated Meliant's fury.​

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And just like that, it was gone again - like all the air being let out of a balloon. Not a pop, but a wheeze. Unflattering. Undignified. The smoke-man collapsed into a vague mist again.​

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Not great, he replied.​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

Mercy's lips curled upwards, faintly into a smile.

"So, abandon him, join me." She said finally. "I already gave you more power than he ever did. And even though you killed that one." A head gesture towards the corpse lying in the corner now.

"My Graspborn are only growing in strength and in mass."

Every day more were joining the cause. It was a bit disorientating to someone who hadn't been planning on leading anything whatsoever. But just as every homocidal egomaniac, Mercy was adapting to the new normal rather quickly.

"Wouldn't you rather work for someone who actually gets shit done instead of just talks a lot?"

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

A ripple spread through the cloud, followed soon by another silent bolt of that crimson lightning.​

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Is this your idea of a joke? Old Man Fossk gives you the slip again, so you put me in a tube and make me your consolation prize? ​

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There was anger in that cloud's thoughts, certainly, but it was increasingly just for show. Bluster to mask disappointment and resignation. It was one thing to accept a consolation prize - Meliant had always believed in taking whatever one could get and damning the cost - it was another matter entirely to be the consolation prize.​

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This wasn't how things were supposed to turn out. But here he was. The man in the tube.​

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"Join me." What a crock. I wouldn't join you for fucking breakfast. ​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

Mercy squinted at the gaseous entity inside the tube.

"You know, the only reason I didn't throw you and the tube in the nearest sun is because you are more gas than man." A pause as she considered that. "And you are Gerra's brother, who assisted me with hauling that tower from the Death Star, so throwing his family into the nearest sun seemed rude."

She licked her lips.

"You are making me remember I don't really give a shit if I am rude." A soft tap of her finger on the glass.

"Don't see yourself as a consolation prize. I challenged the old man to a Kaggath, he accepted and then disappeared on me twice."

Yes, that annoyed Mercy more than anyone would ever know.

It wasn't satisfying. Not satisfying in the way feeling his bones crack under her hands would have been.

"So I am claiming the win and he is free to try and dispute it if he ever shows his face again. In the meantime, what was his is mine and I mean to collect. Are you going to be a rude little shit or are you going to assist me in collecting my Empire, one piece at a time?"

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

"You know, the only reason I didn't throw you and the tube in the nearest sun is because you are more gas than man." A pause as she considered that. "And you are Gerra's brother, who assisted me with hauling that tower from the Death Star, so throwing his family into the nearest sun seemed rude."

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It'd only be a waste of time for both of us if you did that, Meliant snapped back at her. Perhaps too quickly. I'd return. ​

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No one had ever tried that (yes, in spite of himself) and while Meliant was confident he would survive, a deeper part of him was disinclined to experiment. The cloud twisted in on itself, forming a narrow funnel which rotated... Leisurely would have been the normal word. Here it was more contemplative, the way a normal person with a normal physiology might pace while in thought.​

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Mercy mentioned his brother. Meliant hated his brother in that same way he hated all creatures that were not him, but there was no denying Gerra had a penchant for... Success. Glory. Had Gerra grafted himself to this kaggath-contender as Meliant had grafted himself to Solipsis? Was this the secret of his success? That had to be it. There was no other distinction between them.​

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None at all.​

"Are you going to be a rude little shit or are you going to assist me in collecting my Empire, one piece at a time?"

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Silence from Meliant for a time as he reviewed carefully he limited, tank-bound options.​

What a lark. It seems you have a plan you've thought through, O star-arm. Share it with me and I'll tell you if it'll work.​

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Pride, particularly male pride, often behooves one to say 'yes' without saying 'yes'.​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

It seemed that Meliant was more man than gas and it was annoying to have to deal with.

What Mercy wouldn't give to reach out and squeeze the life out of him. She somehow doubted that even a creature like this would survive contact with a black hole, but neither was she particularly interested in testing it out... yet. He seemed able to straddle the line between annoying and useful in a way that allowed Mercy to look past his obvious defects.

"Your Empire forged that rickety Death Star of theirs in no time at all. They extracted a bounty from the Core to make it so. Then they lost it and also hundreds of thousands on board the station when it perished."

All simple factual observations so far.

"No matter what else, that is going to cause an economic downturn throughout their territories. They are already whispering about phrases like looking inwards and the mission has been completed." Neither of which suggested they were confident in being able to sustain another campaign. A big contrast between the sheer bravado of their earlier incursions.

"I will begin to raid their holdings. Small pin pricks first, testing their strength or lack thereof. You will feed me intel from within so the Covenant knows what best to hit."

Her fingers tapped the glass again, thoughtful.

"If you can go on without detection, you can move among them, slowly leeching their strength. Building an apparatus within. They will believe you are still loyal to the Emperor, but in fact... you will be working for me." Then squinting critically at the gaseous mass. You could never rely on a man to see the wisdom in good hierarchy. "And for yourself, of course, many riches to be earned by someone ambitious and in the right place."

A head tilt there.

"And? Does this plan get your seal of approval, Meliant?" Dripping of sarcasm.

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

Meliant listened in silence. It was fear rather than etiquette. Mercy did not seem like the type of person who enjoyed being interrupted. And yet he somehow was able to wait several long, sarcastic moments after she asked her question. As if he were being extra-doubly sure that she was, indeed, finished.​

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"They don't have enough ships, Star-Arm," he said. "Every meeting I sat in on with those I-S-B stuffed shirts. That's what they all say. Not enough ships. Manpower in spades, sure, but that's just the core. They can't put it where it counts. Balmorra, Kuat, they're working overtime... And it's not enough. Not even close."​

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The cloud drifted idly, back and forth in its tube.​

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"You can go anywhere. Anywhere that's not Coruscant, Balmorra, Kuat... Or Humbarine. You'll feast. They'll panic."​

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Not so much a seal of approval as a confirmation.​

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"Now let me out. I want to go home."​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant

Amber bled deeper into her eyes at that little nugget of information.

It was like holding a bloody steak in front of a starved predator and watching it go crazy.

"Is that a fact?" Mercy murmured softly. Trying to keep the hunger out of her tone, but even if Meliant was primarily gas, he would be able to see it as clear as day. "Well, that just cheers me right up, Meliant, you might very well be my favorite person right now."

She snapped her fingers and out came a few Graspborn.

They were carrying a box and put it next to Mercy before busying themselves with dragging out the corpse out of the room.

"I understand the feeling of being homesick, believe me, I do." Mercy said with a measure of sympathy.

"However, in all of this, I have not heard you say it even once. I need the words, Mal, I need to hear that you are on my side. That you are my pal, my buddy. My... partner and eager to do your part."

She patted the crate next to her.

"My friends get presents, you know. One of them got a kingdom, another got an Empire. That's what I do for people who align with me."

Eyes flicked back to the gas.

She did not say what happened to her enemies.

That seemed gauche. They were having such a nice conversation.

 

[Meliant]

Mercy

"Well, that just cheers me right up, Meliant, you might very well be my favorite person right now."

Great, was his reply, tone sour.​

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It should have been nice to be someone's favorite. And yet…​

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Far and away in the depths of the Firefist Galaxy, a young tomb knight had stood guard over the bones of an ancient master. But he had gotten bored and attempted some ritual to take power in a dangerous, profane way. It didn't work. It stripped him of all flesh and reduced him to a shadow.​

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It stung Meliant to reflect upon. The cloud-in-the-tube twisted and contorted like a thing in pain. He had crawled from the shadow of the Gûdjoti to get out from the shadow of his family, only to fall under the shadow of Darth Solipsis, only to be pulled into the shadow of Mercy Star-Arm.​

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And his brother was involved. What a joke. Was this truly his fate? To be slung from one orbit to another, helpless as a comet in a field of gas giants?​

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I'm not your fucking buddy, Meliant spat back, still folding in on himself. I'll do as you ask.​

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Another flash of red lightning within the cloud. Yes, he was displeased, with himself and his angry little life most of all. There were no eyes in that cloud, but Mercy could still sense he was looking right at the crate.​

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I don't need favors.​