The Greats

[Ascendancy]

The Ascendancy was reticent. He stood over, impassive and careful while Marcus laid bare the guilt of admission.

The title, 'Lord Ascendancy' elicited no reaction from Nikolai, despite the possibility of its appropriateness, but the Arcus Band was as much of a crown as he would ever wear. Nikolai's augustness was befitting kingly titles and if ever the gesture was made, Nikolai would accept it from no less than an entire nation at once, but not from one impassioned youth taken to abjectivity.

Whether Marcus intended or not, he exposed his rationalization with his powers, having reconciled the notion with, of all things, Star Wars. A work of fiction invented by a man decades ago when the power that bound the universe together existed for eternity, when gods last walked the world, in rule and might. He knew not of the Atharim, then, to have continued the meager justification uniting divine right with childhood fancy.

Nikolai was keenly aware of his surroundings, then. Not of the Palace nor the Kremlin, not even so much as this sole planet. He was surrounded by thousands of potential foes and allies, thicker than there were stars in the sky they seemed. While one wickedly intelligent young man managed to find a seat at NIkolai's table. The dire significance Marcus represented was nearly overwhelming.

He would need to give the situation an incredible amount of thought. Perhaps it was fortunate that Vellas made his proposal when he had.

Nikolai was silent for some moments while the internal debate continued. In the end, rationality and cool judgement won. He would need time to consider the delicacy of the situation. He bid Marcus to rise.

"Take to your room and sleep. You are hereby under order to not take hold of .. the Force .. until I say otherwise. You're a man of discipline, I trust you'll resist the temptation."
Nikolai searched the white of Marcus' eyes. "I will know if you do not,"
he said with all the vastness of his authority. Whether he could sense disobedience or not was irrelevant. Nikolai issued the warning nonetheless.

Nikolai rounded the space occupied by his Sigma while masking the shudder that chilled him.

[Marcus DuBois]

Marcus watched Ascendancy's face. He could not read the man's emotions, could not tell what he was thinking. But strangely, he didn't feel fear. The man had his life in his hands....and yet....and yet Marcus felt excited, hopeful. There was a will at work here.

He thought back to the revelation with Vellas in the dining hall- the multiple weaves- and the limitations of his Force paradigm. It had been a useful one and had taken him far. But now he stood in front of real power, of power made reality. The metaphor could still be useful, but from now on it would no longer be permitted to form the basis for his assumptions.

So fate, the Force, the universe, whatever he wanted to call it, but some guiding principle had decreed this moment, here, at this place, at this time. He could not deny the path that had led him here, the path that had begun from his birth to a very specific set of sires, to live in a very specific set of circumstances that would eventually lead to the Kremlin, in December of 2045, in this hallway, him standing revealed before Ascendancy himself, a man whose philosophy very nearly coincided with his own in every way, possessed of a power and ability that Marcus had sought for 8 years.

He waited, confidently hopeful. And then Ascendancy finally spoke. "Take to your room and sleep. You are hereby under order to not take hold of .. the Force .. until I say otherwise. You're a man of discipline, I trust you'll resist the temptation."
He peered into Marcus' eyes. "I will know if you do not,"


Marcus felt a measure of relief, for which Malik chided him. You must have faith. Whether Ascendancy could tell if Malik channeled or not did not matter. He logged the statement in the back of his mind, another avenue for future research. But Malik had honor, especially still at so delicate stage in their relationship. He would abide Ascendancy's command, not out of terror- the terrors borne in his childhood had been the worst imaginable. After that, even torture or death did not terrify him. But he would obey out of respect for the man, would fear the man in the same way that he feared all great power, with awe and reverence.

He rose. "Yes Ascendancy,"
was all he said, keeping his face neutral. Ascendancy strode away and so did his guards, the tall one giving him a stony look. Malik ignored it.

He entered his apartment and undressed using conventional means. After days of using the Force for everything, it felt odd. But he had given his word. Once everything was put away and he ready for bed, he sat down in the middle of the floor to meditate. Using Jedi techniques, he reached a sense of calm and tranquility. It was enough. The events of the day played through his mind, every conversation and nuance, every thought and idea. It had been eventful indeed.

At this point, his future was in Ascendancy's hand. But he was confident that he'd be able to work with the man, show him how useful he could be. Malik had faith that an apprenticeship would come.

But to be useful meant providing useful things. He couldn't use the Force to study. But he could remember and use his Tau Algebra. He got his notebook out and transcribed the weaves that he'd seen come off Vellas. He smiled again at the physical proof it was possible to make multiple weaves at once. Now that he'd seen it, he doubted he'd have trouble doing it himself. The paradigm must be adjusted for reality, not the other way around. But looking at the equations, he saw they were a very unique weaving of Ether, along with just a few other thread flavors, Ether being the primary component.

Once the equations were done, he started manipulating them. The quiet of the room became a blanket that surrounded him, pressed in on him. Only the terms in front of him existed, the mathematical expression of ethereal realities. Soon they took on a life of their own. He began to see how the weave worked. Resonances. He smiled. The Tau vibration value of Ether was....different than the others. When the vector matrices describing the Ether threads were combined in specific ways, the vibrational value of the total weave changed.

He sat back, stunned. Unlike the other 4 flavors, whose vibrational value stayed constant, Ether's could be readjusted. The Tau vibrational value of, say, the water flavored thread of the Force resonated with that of the actual water molecule. That's what gave it its power to control and direct water. Ether's vibrational value being adjustable meant that it could be....modulated, fine tuned to react with specific threads of the Force or even generic ones. That was how the weave worked. The resonance of the weave was adjusted so that any use of the Force set off a vibration in the Ether web, indicating its use. A spider's web, set to go off when a fly got caught.

He smiled. Now that he saw it, he also saw that with some reworking, that weave could be adjusted to act as well, to go off with a prearranged response to a specific resonance. Perhaps...perhaps even that vibration could be attuned to different people, to respond or not respond to them. Malik smiled; he was pleased with the work.

Marcus took a deep breath and looked at the clock. It was midnight and his legs were sore from sitting like that. He stood up and put his notebooks away and got into bed. Despite the...uncertainty that still hung over him, it was a momentously great day.

Ascendancy would see. He could be very useful to the man, if given a chance. Malik would offer his power in service to order and harmony. The chaos and capriciousness of humanity would be guided into stability. Mathematical order, harmony and beauty would prevail.

<small>((Continued in You Know How We Do It))</small>



Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 16 2014, 01:22 PM.

[Ascendancy]

That night, Nikolai sat in his office to sort out these epiphanies. This was not the office of the Ascendancy, the room broadcast around the world as his seat of executive authority. This was the office of Nikolai Brandon: where Nik studied, thought, and escaped from the burden of the public eye. He was not particularly alone, never alone. His own thoughts were broad enough to constitute a whole second person, but power was his company. It surged through him when he glanced up to grapple a book from the shelf. It delved molten through his soul when he laid in bed and traced lines through the stone walls and molded what was once rock, cement, and stone into single slabs. This office, dim, cool, clean and quiet was his haven, his refuge. CSS agents stood outside, guarding the primary portal in and out. He could hear them once in a while when one came to trade off with another or during routine check-in's with Kremlin Security Command.

The weight of centuries loomed overhead, the burden of an empire literally positioned on his shoulders, but he bore it like the black robes of his Atharim initiation. It felt right.

He was usually a quick and efficient bather. He preferred order and cleanliness and took comfort in the routine that saw him clean, bright-eyed and ready to sleep, but this night he stood in the shower distracted by thoughts. What was he to do with the thousands of potential ... what to call them? Gods? Demigods? Ascendants? Certainly not brothers. Another may wield the sustenance of existence as he did, but none were his equal. He knew it in his heart. He was distinct. The first of them. The first and greatest god to walk the earth. It was not arrogance, it was simply fact.

His thoughts turned to the scars as they often had of late. The current Regus had not sent any more assassins. Was he cowed as Nikolai intended? It was hard to believe of a Regus. If the present one was anything like Wilhelm Rahvid he would be ruthlessly dedicated to his goal. Wilhelm had tracked his son's murderer from Bologna to the deserted peaks of Siberia. Their mutual astonishment was forever enblazened in Nik's memory...


Nikolai sat behind the wooden gates of the Datsan grounds, aching from being seated on a hard floor for hours within the three-tiered temple itself. He was a disciple of the Buddhist philosophy of Vajryana then: a simple, solitary individual who sought reconciliation between himself and the ability to manipulate existence. Ritual and meditation had been his practice, but attainment of enlightenment was never the goal: Nikolai already existed within the body of a deity, but his body was failing despite the will to survive. His third time poisoned by his own power, he needed help.

A man of seeming agelessness with a stern voice of a frozen river stood before him. 'Vajrayāna is the fastest method for attaining Buddhahood, Nikolai, but for unqualified practitioners it can be dangerous. From the time you resolve to accept initiation, the utmost sustained effort to devotion to the path is essential.'


Nikolai dipped his eyes in respect. 'I accept the dangers. I will die if I do not.'
His mind swayed, his head throbbed, and sweat poured down his brow despite the falling snow. Desperately ill for the third time in as many months, the man who would become his esteemed lama, or teacher, led him away.

'You must attain the vinaya of emptiness. Only then will you learn to control it.'
He raised a hand at Nik's start. 'Not yet. When you have recovered, you will begin upon the path.'



So long did he stand in the shower, lost in thought, that the water had wrinkled his hands and the steam rolled so thick he could not see across the room. He turned off the water and stepped out.

Long ago he ceased the need for meditation. As easy as breathing, threads of power curled through the room and the steam rolled in upon itself until it disappeared.

Hair still dripping and a towel around his waist, he did not so much as take the time to dry himself off before approaching a workstation, where, within a few keystrokes, he put in the order to summon Michael Vellas first thing in the morning.