nine minutes, all the La’heng who have access to public comms will know what we’re fighting for—what’s at stake.
Two liberated La’heng stride toward us. With fine features, the La’heng are more attractive than the average human, a hint of extra elegance and refinement. Yet that beauty masks a savage nature. A few have died taking Carvati’s Cure; they succumb to the bloodlust and have to be put down. So far, our casualty rate is holding steady at 5 percent.
Loras accounts it tolerable, considering what’s at stake. I wish I could do better, but over the turns, I’ve accepted that perfection is a dream. In the end, there’s mud and blood, and you can only hope you can live with the stains when all’s said and done. I wouldn’t be able to stand myself if I didn’t try, here.
The first rebel is taller than his companion. I remember Zhan because he has a red streak in his hair. He added it after he survived the cure. First thing, he picked a fight. It breaks your heart to watch them roughhouse just because they can, throwing punches like flowers, joyous laughter ringing out.
Right now, I can’t remember the other one’s name; it doesn’t matter. There’s no time for chat. With hands raised in greeting, they carry the two centurions out of the bay to be dealt with later. Vel nods, staying with the shuttle to check it over—as Dina would have—and Loras jogs toward the communications suite.
I follow because this was my idea, and I’m playing cameraman. Well, at least, I’m programming the cam for him. I unlock the door with my code to be sure nothing’s been touched, and Loras stands in front of the flag, a blue background with a red circle and the old La’heng coat of arms, which had been printed on everything from art to flags to money, before we
changed
them.
This is a new flag for an independent La’heng. We spenthours designing it, just as we did the Conglomerate uniforms, and I’m positive we got it right. It also provides the perfect backdrop for our opening salvo.
Quickly, he changes from his black-ops gear into less sinister, more neutral attire. “How do I look?”
“Like the perfect spokesman for the rebellion.”
He frowns at me. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“What if I screw this up?”
“You won’t. You’ve practiced the speech a hundred times, a thousand even. Now you’re going to say it with more conviction than you ever have, knowing that in a few hours, people all over La’heng will be hearing you…and seeing what you can do.”
“That’s not helping.”
Oh, shit, stage fright?
“Take a breath, then, and pretend you’re talking only to me.”
Loras relaxes visibly. “Better.”
“Camera’s recording in three…two…” I hold up one finger so my voice doesn’t wind up on the sound track, and the red light comes on.
“This is the first communiqué from the La’heng Liberation Army,” Loras says, gazing directly at his audience—or at least, that’s how they’re going to feel, five hours from now. I wonder if they’ll have shivers, too, like I do.
“Humanity has stolen everything from us: our self-sufficiency, our pride, our cultural heritage. They have enslaved us. Oh, they call it by benevolent names, but in truth, they have turned us into helpless children. But there is a solution, called Carvati’s Cure. I’ve taken the treatment, and I say to you, my brothers and sisters, be slaves no longer. I will show you the way. I will show you proof.”
That’s my cue. I splice in the clip of his fight with Hon, courtesy of Dr. Carvati on Gehenna, and then training clips later on. It’s indisputably Loras, fighting, impossible for a La’heng. Yet, he’s kicking the dread pirate’s ass.
I imagine the impact this footage will have on the rest of La’heng.
And then it gets better.
Zhan steps into the room, his face in shadow. This is scripted, but the audience won’t know that. They throw a few punches, live and streaming;
Two liberated La’heng stride toward us. With fine features, the La’heng are more attractive than the average human, a hint of extra elegance and refinement. Yet that beauty masks a savage nature. A few have died taking Carvati’s Cure; they succumb to the bloodlust and have to be put down. So far, our casualty rate is holding steady at 5 percent.
Loras accounts it tolerable, considering what’s at stake. I wish I could do better, but over the turns, I’ve accepted that perfection is a dream. In the end, there’s mud and blood, and you can only hope you can live with the stains when all’s said and done. I wouldn’t be able to stand myself if I didn’t try, here.
The first rebel is taller than his companion. I remember Zhan because he has a red streak in his hair. He added it after he survived the cure. First thing, he picked a fight. It breaks your heart to watch them roughhouse just because they can, throwing punches like flowers, joyous laughter ringing out.
Right now, I can’t remember the other one’s name; it doesn’t matter. There’s no time for chat. With hands raised in greeting, they carry the two centurions out of the bay to be dealt with later. Vel nods, staying with the shuttle to check it over—as Dina would have—and Loras jogs toward the communications suite.
I follow because this was my idea, and I’m playing cameraman. Well, at least, I’m programming the cam for him. I unlock the door with my code to be sure nothing’s been touched, and Loras stands in front of the flag, a blue background with a red circle and the old La’heng coat of arms, which had been printed on everything from art to flags to money, before we
changed
them.
This is a new flag for an independent La’heng. We spenthours designing it, just as we did the Conglomerate uniforms, and I’m positive we got it right. It also provides the perfect backdrop for our opening salvo.
Quickly, he changes from his black-ops gear into less sinister, more neutral attire. “How do I look?”
“Like the perfect spokesman for the rebellion.”
He frowns at me. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“What if I screw this up?”
“You won’t. You’ve practiced the speech a hundred times, a thousand even. Now you’re going to say it with more conviction than you ever have, knowing that in a few hours, people all over La’heng will be hearing you…and seeing what you can do.”
“That’s not helping.”
Oh, shit, stage fright?
“Take a breath, then, and pretend you’re talking only to me.”
Loras relaxes visibly. “Better.”
“Camera’s recording in three…two…” I hold up one finger so my voice doesn’t wind up on the sound track, and the red light comes on.
“This is the first communiqué from the La’heng Liberation Army,” Loras says, gazing directly at his audience—or at least, that’s how they’re going to feel, five hours from now. I wonder if they’ll have shivers, too, like I do.
“Humanity has stolen everything from us: our self-sufficiency, our pride, our cultural heritage. They have enslaved us. Oh, they call it by benevolent names, but in truth, they have turned us into helpless children. But there is a solution, called Carvati’s Cure. I’ve taken the treatment, and I say to you, my brothers and sisters, be slaves no longer. I will show you the way. I will show you proof.”
That’s my cue. I splice in the clip of his fight with Hon, courtesy of Dr. Carvati on Gehenna, and then training clips later on. It’s indisputably Loras, fighting, impossible for a La’heng. Yet, he’s kicking the dread pirate’s ass.
I imagine the impact this footage will have on the rest of La’heng.
And then it gets better.
Zhan steps into the room, his face in shadow. This is scripted, but the audience won’t know that. They throw a few punches, live and streaming;
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