[FFML] [SHnY][..IN SPACE!] The Nightmare of Sagittarius -- Prologue

[Brian Randall]

Taking a break from Act III of Downfall.

I hope this amuses. :)




     The Nightmare of Sagittarius

     Prologue: Through the Years and Far Away

     Disclaimer: The novel series of Suzumiya Haruhi that began with
'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi' is the creation of Nagaru
Tanigawa.  No disrespect is intended by the posting of this
fanfiction, as I do not own the characters or initial setting
involved.  I'm merely dabbling with another set of paints.

     Warning: Technobabble is going to happen.  So, yeah, I hope
that's your thing.  And that I can maintain it.  Yeah....
	---------------------------------
     I want to avoid the cliche of saying the day started normally.
This story is somewhat exceptional, even considering everything else
I've endured.  Thankfully, the start of this story was not very normal
at all.

     It began when the president of the computer club, simply enough,
challenged Haruhi -- and therefore, the rest of us -- to a contest of
personal skill.

     Not content with merely being challenged, Haruhi had dragged the
poor computer club president into the Literature Club's room, made him
sit on a chair away from the table, and then interrogated him on the
nature of his challenge.  I felt my sympathy for the club president
slowly trickle away to nothingness; he had, after all, challenged
Haruhi, and didn't seem willing to back down.

     Still, this made my job simpler.  I could just endure whatever
happened without needing to push for a victory.

     The Computer Research Society President made his challenge, and
even managed to look the slightest bit noble, being cowed by Haruhi.
Normally, when you see someone being cowed by a girl with half their
body mass, you would not think it was something worthy of respect on
that other person's part.  Considering that this is Haruhi, I feel we
must make an exception.

     Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, good president.  It will
forever be known that you did not go gently into that good night.

     Except, something unexpected happened.  After hearing out the
terms of the challenge, Haruhi flipped the CD with the cover of some
generic bearded spaceship captain over in her hands, and her interest
flickered.  Something in her eyes seemed for a heartbeat to _want_ to
be interested, but like myself with most school lessons, in the midst
of hearing the boy out, I could tell that Haruhi was barely interested
in it.

     I glanced at our resident esper, who straightened up and looked
perturbed at exactly the same time I saw Haruhi's interest fade.  Too
much to hope for that it was just a coincidence, then?  I suppose this
is where things get complicated....

     "So," Haruhi commented, cracking the case open and frowning at
the blank back of the insert, "why do I care?"

     "Why do you care!?" the president protested.  "I--  All of us,
actually, put our hearts and souls into that game!  We want to
challenge you on fair and level ground, and to win--"

     "But it's so _generic_," Haruhi complained, snapping the case
shut and tossing it at the president, who fumbled desperately, almost
dropping it.  "Two fleets meet in space, justification for the
conflict to come afterwards?  If you want me to care about your
challenge, then present something _interesting_!  Something with
_depth_!  All you've really got here is just another strategy game,
except it's in space.  At _least_ come up with a good story!"

     "Y...you...."  The president scowled.  "There is a story!  It's
the conflict for resources!"

     "Truly, that seems the traditional cause of most strife
throughout history," Koizumi remarked, cautiously trying to encourage
Haruhi to pick up the challenge.  For myself, I was of mixed opinions
on the matter.  I didn't particularly care about the game, but it
_would_ keep Haruhi distracted.  And yet, at the same time, I actually
agreed with our eccentric brigade chief; the back-story for the game
was not particularly inspired.

     "If it's a resource conflict, then are the sides matched, or does
one side have abundant resources, while the other barely has any?"
Haruhi posed.  "How much sense does it make that poor rebels and rich
oppressors have the same access to technology and ships?  These things
require an explanation!"

     "Why you--  How dare you badmouth our game?!" the president
growled hotly.  "Are you saying you don't accept the challenge!?"

     "Until you come up with a more interesting story, I reject your
_game_," Haruhi corrected.  "But if you want a challenge right now,
I'll wrestle _any_ of your club members into submission!"  She stomped
on the floor, raising one fist menacingly.  The president flinched
back, and again, no one should blame him for that.

     Koizumi shot me a warning glance, then looked at Haruhi
significantly.  Naturally, for reasons that I cannot fathom, the
responsibility for handling this situation falls to me.

     "Is it really that big a deal?" I asked Haruhi, instantly drawing
her focused gaze off the president and bringing it to bear on myself.
I can endure this, though it's unpleasant.  "I mean this for both of
you," I add, which surprises Haruhi, but leaves her looking a little
off balance.  I like that look on her; it's nice to see _her_
unsettled even the slightest bit once in a while.  "The story for his
game may be a bit bland, but it's only the story.  Should it really
effect the game _that_ much?"

     "Exactly!" the president agrees.  "It's just a setting!  We
wanted something simple and original, instead of just making a doujin
game of some anime."

     "And that's why I disagree!" Haruhi growls.  "Think about it!
I'll give you points for trying to come up with your own story, but
it'll take a bit more than just that.  If I can't care about the
setting, how can I care about the game?  Because if I can't care about
it -- well, then I just can't take your challenge seriously!"

     "Fine," the president retorts.  "We'll write up a better setting!"

     "And _then_ we'll accept your challenge," Haruhi confirms, smirking.

     I sense that a bullet has been dodged, somehow, but Koizumi looks
troubled behind his smile.  Asahina-san just seems confused, as
always, and Nagato has yet to look up from her book.

     Well, maybe I was wrong; maybe this is a pretty normal day for us
after all.  Then again, that, actually, is not the _specific_ day that
things turned irreparably strange for us.

     Two days later, looking smugly self-assured, the president and
one of his cronies came back with a manuscript explaining the setting
in detail.  Haruhi's vanished interest, curiously waned, instantly
reignited once she snatched it from the president's hands and began
flipping through it eagerly.

     "So," she said, nodding slowly, "the resources that are valuable
are worlds, since starship building materials are relatively easy to
come by?  Why didn't you _say_ so in the first place?  And there's an
idealogical rift between factions because of genetic engineering,
and--"

     She looks up abruptly, thrusting the stack of papers at Nagato,
knocking her own book from her hands.  Nagato blinks once, then takes
the pages and begins reading through them.

     "With _this_, I can accept your challenge!" Haruhi yells,
grinning triumphantly.  "These details are important; they make the
game so real, I can actually believe I'm going to those worlds to
fight!  And _that_ makes the challenge worthwhile!  Don't you agree,
Yuki?"

     Nagato looks momentarily unsure, her eyes scanning across the
page before she evidently sees something that works for her.  Then she
nods, a strange look in her eyes.  The president is babbling about
something, and Haruhi turns to babble back at him; but the entire
world feels like only Nagato and I are in it.  Somehow, as transient
as a shadow, Asahina-san's presence is there, on the very immaterial
edges of my perception.  I have the strangest, most brief impression
that she's trying to warn me about something very important.

     Then Nagato says something....  'New story'?  'I'm sorry'?  I'm
not sure; she mouths the words, but I hear nothing.

     And now, I realize, I may never know.

     ***

     Ever since I was young, I had known to put the belief of fanciful
things behind me.  The premise that a galaxy-spanning civilization
greater than ourselves, which would intercede on our behalf in times
of most dire need seemed to be something designed to cheer toddlers.
Likewise, things like 'love' or 'alternate realities', or 'time
travel'.

     There was a period of my life, before leaving the Lower Academy,
where I did believe in things I ought to have given up on before.
'True friends' are a concept of media; they are much beloved, but as
intangible as a tachyon emission.  If alternate realities existed, any
of the Dimension Drive experiments would have revealed _some_ sort of
resonance along the Stellar Plane, but to date, the only thing on the
other side of that boundary is the emptiness of the true void.

     Time travel should exist, according to our sciences.  We can
transmit data instantaneously, we can move through space faster than
light, and we have drives and shields capable of pushing probes within
mere kilometers of the largest exospheres in the entirety of the Core
Super-cluster.  But even our most primitive means of quantum
entanglement are too complex to survive the transition.

     All data is lost when it travels through time contrary to the
nature of the universe.  We've known that for centuries, after we
reclaimed Old Earth for our own, finally recovered from the Last
Stumble of the late twenty second century.  There were no Posts
waiting like a cluster of luminous angels to welcome humanity back to
their home.  Only a battered, weary planet, struggling to heal itself
from the wounds of centuries of pollution, rampant nanites, and
uncontrolled genetic engineering.

     Myself, I was born on that world, though this is a secret known
only to myself and a few choice members of High Command.  Long before
the nanites, but not long before the Last Stumble.  There was an
island there, and I had a name, a real name, in the custom of the
people who dwelled there -- not the title I bear now.

     My parents pointed at one star and told me a story, several dark
centuries of cryo ago.  They had told me this story would be my key to
recovering myself in a time of dire need.  They told me the name of
that star and its companion.  And how, across the water, on the
greater land, there was a name for the god that was tied to that star.
 It was not my name, but I was told to hold the name of that star in
my heart, always.

     I learned not to believe that story either.

     Except ... even if I did not _believe_, I did _remember_.

     Don't children remember fairy tales?  Don't everyday people
remember their media-feeds?  Holo, oldline text, hyperjunction,
sense-sim, whatever else they use for their entertainment fixes, those
things aren't real, either.  But they are remembered.  So, when they
asked what my new name should be, that was my answer.

     It's a slight mispronunciation of that god's name that I hear
across comm channels, rousing me from my reflection.  "Kyon!"

     I adjust my captain's cap and eye the view-screen to my left.
Unadorned synthetics work the bridge controls, acting as a crew.
Small comfort, that; I never saw the point in assigning augmented
reality appearances for them.  The expression of my current high
commander, her excellency, Haruhi Suzumiya, glares back at me through
the comm portal.

     "Excellency," I reply flatly.

     The channel is secured with a spare moment of focus and a small
hand gesture; Suzumiya has forgotten to do this herself.  Her
expression sours from 'very confident' to 'annoyed' immediately after
the visual indicator -- a red border -- appears.

     "Tell me what's going on!" she barks.

     With a sigh, I slide the comm portal to overlay the primary
displays in front of me.  The synthetics handle things while I summon
our tactical situation, and forward it to her view-screens.  When
we're synced, I read her the situation mechanically, verbatim from the
screens.

     Her expression shifts, and she looks angry, then determined, then
suspicious.  It's a very natural movement for her to lean back into
her seat and look away; she seems to have forgotten that the capture
mechanism for the visual feed is slaved to her own movement at the
moment, so it follows her.  I look through the comm portal, losing
focus on it as I gaze at the display behind it.

     My attention diverts briefly back as she recalls something and
slides the portal to one side of her own reference frame.  For me, her
face turns, and the muted blur of the backdrop behind her shifts.  "I
want an in-person conference to discuss the situation," she declares.

     "Negative," I return.  "We engage in under ten minutes.  There is
insufficient time."

     She looks very, very cross, shooting me the darkest of all looks.
 Such behavior wouldn't be good for morale, if I cared about that.
"Fine," she snaps.  "We're meeting to discuss this after engagement!"

     The comm portal closes.  A heartbeat later, comms activate again,
connecting me with another fleet captain.  Koizumi's viewing portal
also lacks a red border.  "Ah, Kyon, we should discuss certain things
rather shortly; I have concerns about our situation.  Do you suppose
we could arrange that?"  I engage security while he wastes time giving
me a warm smile.

     He blinks, looking startled, and I ignore him, as two more comm
channels open.  These are properly secured.  "Hold that thought," I
tell Koizumi, one-way blanking his screen.  I can see his face, but he
can't see or hear me.

     "Nagato," I call, sending her viewing portal flying across the
bridge and into the main tactical display.  It smoothly integrates,
and she syncs our systems.  My augmentations handle sorting her
high-speed stream of tactical data, while my eyes and conscious mind
turns to the third viewing portal.

     "Asahina," I greet nodding, trying to borrow some of Koizumi's
smile for her.

     "Ah," she says, looking very nervous.  "Um, Kyon-kun, I'm a bit
scared about what's going on, here."

     I react to that; I can't help it.  Japanese as a spoken language
is readily available to anyone who takes the linguasoft, but I cannot
imagine any reason why _she_ would even know it exists.  She doesn't
notice that I stare, more precious seconds of our pre-battle
preparation slipping away.

     Belief....  That's a funny thing, really.

     Her Excellency is already broadcasting battle commands and
repositioning, while we haven't even dispatched more than the thinnest
screen of scouts.  I send a message directly to Asahina via augment.
Aloud, I assure her, "We will meet in person to discuss things after
this fleet action."

     I link Koizumi's comm portal to hers; Nagato is automatically
present thanks to our sync.  "Koizumi," I say, "you will be in charge
of tactical management after assignment; Asahina, disengage all
fighter craft and reorder them to Nagato's command; Nagato, Koizumi,
remand all utility craft to Asahina's command; Nagato, divide
Asahina's craft into two sub-fleets and reorder half to her
Excellency."

     "Understood," the three respond with the trained precision they
would owe a higher ranking officer, but not myself.

     ...and even though they all do as I instruct, without
acknowledging the fleet commander, they all seem more confident, more
assured.  But why would that be?

     Is it because they believe in me?

     Is it because I'm mad?  Have my augmentations gone haywire,
feeding me bad data?  Am I dying, and these are the last fleeting
images through my mind?

     Or worse, is it because they found out about my history, that
bloody deal struck with High Command so long ago?

     And then, on the other side of things....

     Is it perhaps that I am not the only person who suddenly has an
extra set of memories from an Earth that none of us ever should have
known?
	---------------------------------
     Author's Notes: I'm coming back to this one after far too long
away from it.  I like the idea, and I know how it ends.  Let's see if
we can get there.

-- 
Brian Randall
--
I write fanfiction. Too much of it. You can read it here, thanks to a
kind grant from the Larry F foundation:
http://www.florestica.com/brandall/
--
Together. Allegiance or death. BIGFIRE!
--
Haiku of my lament:

Forgive my spelling,
my U.S. education,
is the source of blame.