Lucky Number Six
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By the time Captain Horn leaves us, there’s only about ten minutes to go until landing…and the juice is making itself known.

Kirron paces the length of the cabin over and over and over again, driving me fucking crazy. Tiberia sits cross-legged on her bunk, bouncing in place while Mr. Brisby taps his foot, singing snatches of Frank Sinatra songs. Meanwhile, I’ve ruffled my hands through my tail fur so many times it looks like I’ve been electrocuted.

“Six, six, lucky number six,” chants Tiberia as the ship shudders through atmosphere dive. Brisby stops singing about exotic booze and transitions to humming a low backdrop to his mistress’ ravings. I turn my focus to her and notice, for the first time, that the stump of her shoulder has extended beneath its layer of gel. Her missing arm is growing back.

“Six Six Six needs to know how to see her stats stats stats before we start, start, start,” sings the homicidal bunny girl, rocking from side-to-side now.

“Yes she does does does,” I say, putting a hand up to my forehead to ward off the headache I feel lurking over the horizon. “Please. Finally. How?”

“You just say say say in your head head head, System Activate,”

My eye twitching with every one of her repetitions, I think the words. 

System Activate.

 

AR System engaged.

 

“And then you say say say in your he—“

“In my head,” I cut her off before she can do the thing again. 

“You say Display Personal Statistics. Display display display ooooooooh display personal statistics. Or even just DPS.”

“Or even just DPeeeeesssss,” echoes Mr. Brisby, taking up the role of back-up baritone.

“Oooooookay then, weirdos.”

Display Personal Statistics. Why didn’t my dumb ass think of that?

The glyphs glow across my awareness, and for a long time I’m lost for words.

 

Designation - Rajada, Kisuna (“Six”)

 

I…I have a name? A real name? A full name?

My attention snags on that surname, Rajada. I remember it from somewhere, but can’t quite place where.

 

Species: Hybrid - Human, Red Fox, Fennec Fox, Fox Kestral

OP Level: 40

 

Fox Kestrel? What the fuck? No one ever told me I had bird DNA.

 

Health: 86/102

 

As my focus reaches “Health,”  a stylized image of my body flickers to life in the upper right corner of my vision. Everything from my collarbone down is swarming in orange glyphs citing a litany of damages and their rate of recovery, their color growing fainter as my body continues to heal itself. The damaged of my three extra tails, however, is glyphed in bright, solid red. I divert my attention from the readout, and the image flickers away.

 

Sai Pool: 90/90

Strength: 36

Cunning: 66

Dexterity: 60

 

Augments -

 

Basic Kit

Pleasure Kit (Multitype)

Custom Kit (Twelve Warriors, Celestial Fox)

 

Skills -

 

Tail Splice L 1/10

Projectile Shield L 1/10

Stealth Mode (Type - Celestial Shroud) L 1/10

 

 

“There’s…there’s more information here than usual,” I manage after a bit. “Dexterity? Skills?”

Kirron finally stops pacing to listen. Tiberia bounces up and down and nods her head at the same time, ears and curls flapping.

“The Assisted Response System is in you, it knows everything about you.” Bounce bounce bounce. “But on others it does the quickest scan possible. Blink Scan. You wanna know more, you gotta do Extended Scan. But you have to stand still for it and focus focus focus on your target target target and say in your—“

“Head, yeah yeah. I know.”

The ship’s heart rate picks up, and she matches her rhythm to its beat.

“Say extended scan scan scan.” Bounce bounce bounce. “But even then the information will always be incomplete. The system estimates others’ statistics based on raw physical data. Except when it comes to the Twelve and our first names.  It always knows those. Isn’t that right, Mr. Brisby?”

“If you say so, Miss.”

“I take it the mycelium told you all this?” posits Kirron, a sour edge to his voice. Tiberia shakes her head.

“I figured it out myself self self.”

He narrows his eyes. “What else do you know about it?”

“Wait a second,” I cut in, a grin pulling at my lips as I turn to look at Kirron. “You’ve been mocking my EC all day, and this whole time it’s been higher than yours!”

“By one point. Anyway,”  he turns his attention pointedly back at Tiberia. “You were answering my question, I believe?”

“No I was noooot,” trills Tiberia. “But I will. I know that the system will inform you automatically if you gain a level in anything. I know that when you obtain Sai from your kills, you can convert that energy through focus and intent. Use it to change yourself—more strength, more powerful skills, a larger Sai pool. Without focus or intent, it just sits in your Pool. But if it exceeds what your Pool can contain and you don’t focus, it can explode out of you in crazy ways. Like boom,” Tiberia puffs her cheeks up and throws out her arm in demonstration—not literally this time, thank the gods. Then she goes quiet for a moment but continues bouncing, looking thoughtful.

“Oh! And I know that to use a skill, you just focus on what it does while thinking or saying skill activate.

“Do you know why I was able to gain Sai from a hyborg who supposedly didn’t have any?” I wonder. But before she can answer, there’s a great tremoring through the ship, and then it goes abruptly still. The unseen heart slows its beating as the vessel begins to relax. Not long after, the cabin door pulls open.

Operation Save the Nice Lady from the Evil Rich Guy is a go.

 

 

~*~

 

I’ve heard the stories about Greenveil. Everyone has. But nothing prepared me for the reality of it.

Well, aside from the Arowana’s stimulant juice. That helped a bit.

The viridian haze is thinnest out in the shipyard, where the constant coming and going of vessels disperses the jade dust. The mist drapes through and around the city like a…well, like a veil. Forgetting myself for a moment, I take a deep breath in—drinking up the distinctive scent of the place, like peppermint and strawberry milk and minerals. Overhead, the varied greens of the sky swirl and twist, a psychedelic tapestry that I can’t seem to tear my gaze from. My body begins to sway as my mind floats up to the clouds.

“Shallow breaths for a while, remember,” cautions Mr. Brisby, bouncing on his heels, voice raised just enough to snap me out of my trance. “Even with the stimulant, we must give our bodies time to adjust to the dust. Miss,” he kneels before Tiberia, who lolls slightly to the side, eyelids drooping, and squeezes her shoulders. “Shallow breaths, Miss. Shallow breaths.”

“Shallow breaths, Miss, Shallow breaths,” parrots the tiny hybrid. And then she just keeps on saying it. For a long fucking time. I allow my focus to snag on her sing-song voice, because it’s just annoying enough to keep me from zoning out again. At least, for a while.

My heels click against the pearly paving stones of the walkways as we navigate our way to the heart of the City of Dreaming, a two-step rhythm to echo Kirron’s hoof clops. The glittering, champagne-colored skirts of my dress flow around my legs, a sensation so deliciously soft it distracts me anew before I catch myself wandering vaguely off to the side. We’re all bedecked in fresh clothes straight out of the ship’s fancy-ass garment fabricator, dressed to impress. Literally. If our look doesn’t please the event coordinators at the wedding, if our vibe is even slightly off, the whole plan’s a bust.

“‘Ey,” shouts Kirron as I drift off to one side again. I glare his way, and his weird metal horse legs waver a bit beneath him. It’s strange, seeing him without his arm gun. “Get your shit together, fox,”

“Get your shit together, whore. I mean horse. Whoooorse.”

But getting one’s shit together in a place where the atmosphere is drugs proves more challenging than I imagined. It doesn’t help that everything is a spectacle here— from the iridescent towers and lacquered rooftops to the vertical water gardens and lotus-choked canals. Silvery-blue skykoi drift along beside us, their fins tickling me as they brush past. My legs feel a lot like jelly, and suddenly I’m finding myself especially hilarious. A burble of laughter bubbles up from my lips, followed by a sudden outpouring of the stuff. Brisby hurries over to me and catches my arm with his, looping them together to hold me steady. Er, steadier than I was.

“Easy, there Miss. I mean Six. I’ve g-got you,” he hiccups.

“Do you?” I stare up at him, a smile that probably looks goofy as fuck tugging at my cheeks.

Somehow, we manage to both remember and follow instructions—only getting diverted once when Tiberia disappears down a random side street. And, I say this with an even more dubious somehow, we even make it on time.

The back entrance to Duke NoTori’s city manor is crowded with other hybrids and even a few full humans vying for entry to the wedding as “entertainers.”

Great. Screening is going to take for gods-damned ever. Hopefully our forged pleasure-worker registries hold up. Captain Horn assured us they would, though somehow I just don’t entirely trust him yet. But I make it through easily enough, once I finally get up to the coordinators, both my registry and myself passing muster. Then I just have to try not to look too relieved as I wait for the others. They all make it through, even Kirron…whom I suppose some people might find attractive.

When the guests begin to arrive for the three-day party leading up to the actual ceremony, those of us here to work are already draped all over the furniture—as much a part of the decor as the entertainment. Everything’s all dark and hazy and jewel-toned, the furnishings upholstered in fine velvets and leather. The drinks and drugs flow, the music builds, and in the chaos and crowd of the party it’s easy enough to avoid getting snagged by a horny wedding-goer.

A few hours in, I’m drifting from buffet to buffet and following drink servers around when I catch sight of Kirron beckoning me from a shadowy alcove.

“Have you seen her yet?” He whispers as I sidle over to him, nibbling at some stuffed eel. I shake my head.

“Not a gods-damned glimpse,” I say after swallowing my food.

“Same,” he sighs. “The others haven’t seen her yet either.”

“Think they’re keeping her under lockdown until the ceremony?”

“Looks like it,” says Kirron, setting his jaw.

Damnit. Given the circumstances, it makes sense—but we’d been banking on Lunar superstition to make things easier on us. Apparently, though, they’re willing to risk the bad luck of her absence at the pre-party if it means the wedding’ll go off without a hitch.

“Alright. Opening group channel,” I groan.

I’d been putting it off, terrified that even here, my old owner will be able to tap into my private communications. But it’s time to rip off the bioseal.

“I take it no one’s seen her?”  I think, projecting my words through the channel.

“She’s not here,” confirms Tiberia’s voice inside my head.

A long sigh that comes out more like a snarl drags out of me. Of course she isn’t. Why should anything be easy for us? It’s not like our lives have been hard enough already or anything.

“I’m on it.”

Edging past Kirron, I hide behind the alcove curtain and close my eyes. Focusing my mind on the concept of Stealth Mode, I think the magic words.

Skill Activate.

I watch as my body seemingly vanishes beneath me and breathe a sigh of relief.

Thank fuck it worked.

Now I’ve got about fifteen minutes to find myself a bride.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Fuck this fucking house.

First of all, it’s way too gods-damned big. Second of all, it’s basically a maze. It’s got too many doors and way too much security. Considering the latter’s unable to detect me, though, it’s the former which poses the real problem. An invisible fox girl can’t just go around opening doors in a house with eyes in the walls unless she wants to get found real quick.

So I lurk around and wait for other people to open them for me in passage…a huge pain in the ass, considering the time constraint. About ten minutes pass, and I find a lot of shit—all of it absurd, luxurious, or absurdly luxurious—but no unwilling bride. In an attempt to clear my mind, I lean back against a purple sculpture made of rippling biojell. I’m hoping it’ll feel like a massage…but it’s more like two giant seaslugs doing the devil’s tango on my back.

I know what I need to do, but I really, really don’t want to do it. Indulging in one last exasperated sigh, I dart away from the sculpture and down the hall. As I close in on a cat-hyrbid house servant, I summon my extra tails. The poor domestic’s eyes bulge and he unleashes a panicked, mewling  yelp as one of them circles around his neck.

“Sssh,” I whisper. “Act normal and I won’t hurt you or anyone else. Now, take me to the bride.”

He gulps and nods minutely.

“And if I even so much as think you’re trying to trick me or get me caught, I’ll kill you so hard it’ll use up all nine lives at once, got it?”

Sweat beads on his skin and he gives another nod, this one a little less subtle.

I think he’s got it.

Guess I am a pretty decent actor, after all.

 

Sai Pool: 6/90

 

Fuck.

 

“Pick up the pace,” I whisper as we round a corner. A guard doing his rounds approaches, and my whole body tenses up. But he spares barely a glance at the sweating cat man and continues on his way.

“We need to take this lift,” whispers the servant as we round a corner and step into a vaulted hall lit by crystal cluster chandeliers. Leading me to a gilded door at the far end of a row of gilded doors, he keys in a code on its control pad and it slides open. Another code on the inside, and the ascent begins.

I tap my foot, counting down the seconds until Stealth Mode sputters out. At last, the lift comes to a stop and the golden door opens.

Beyond lies a room grander than any I’ve yet seen in this house, which is saying something. The ceilings soar far overhead, depicting a pastel galaxy of whirling stars and nebulas. The biojell walls, where they aren’t grown over with filigree, project a fairytale landscape like a painting come to life. The weeping willows sway in a silent wind, and birds swoop through the glowing sky.

A jaw-droppingly beautiful woman wearing a cloak of feathers lounges on a bed with posts carved to look like trees. And, looming just a few paces away from where I stand, is a heavily armored guard who probably weighs as much as a tree. They both look our way as we enter, bemused expressions fixed on the cat man.

 

AR System engaged. Potential Allies identified. Blink-Scan initiated.

 

Potential Ally Designation (1) - Reiiko

 

Species: Hybrid - Human, Great Blue Heron, Demoiselle Crane

OP Level: 41

 

Estimated Health: 115/115

Estimated Sai Pool: 80/80

Estimated Strength: 35

Estimated Cunning: 60

 

Augments -

Basic Kit

Diplomatic Kit (Multitype)

Pleasure Kit (High Courtesan)

Custom Kit (type unknown)

 

 

Potential Ally Designation (2) - Guriko

 

Species: Hybrid - Human, Blue Crab, Tasmanian Giant Crab

OP Level: 55

 

Estimated Health: 200/200

Estimated Sai Pool: 24/24

Estimated Strength: 85

Estimated Cunning: 44

 

Augments -

Basic Kit

Warrior Kit Type D (Body Guard)

Custom Kit (type unknown)

 

 

Sai Pool: 0/90

Stealth Mode disengaged

 

The woman’s expression transforms to one of shock as I seemingly appear out of thin air. The guard, however, lowers his sabergun.

“Oh, thank the Leviathan,” breathes the armored hulk of a hyborg, letting his weapon clatter to the ground. “Please, please take her.”

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