I strode through the base, absently returning greetings from other Legendary. One of the younger members stopped me and commented on my new 'costume'.
My forced smile grew brittle at this, and I excused myself quickly.
The armor-like, full-body sensor suite that adorned me was no little bit uncomfortable, but I had been told that if I wore it to differing dimensions, the
readings would be able to 'match up' the dimensional constants that were present in my body, and the worlds I went to. This would hopefully give me a
ballpark guess as to where my home dimension is. The mathematics involved are nothing to sneeze at, though, and I had heard one of the scientists mumbling
about 'Seven dimensional spiral search' or some such as they fitted the suit to me. Since I couldn't have any 'contamination' from local
sources, they even had to make a new eyepatch for me, out of the same material.
These thoughts raced through my mind as I reached the Admin office. Swiftly checking that no one was there (and initiating a minor search along the strings of
gravity to make sure), I took a small, battered book from my collecting satchel, and laid it on the table.
To anyone else on this world, there was a strange and indecipherable symbol on the cover. The book itself would be filled with pages and pages of the same. I
reached up without looking, slipped another book out from the shelves, and placed it beside the other. Save only the age and wear of the first, the two were
identical. The name, in Syndan, on the cover was my own: Impossible".
I collapsed into the chair and stared at the two diaries. Both penned in a language known only to me in this world, both beginning with the same words, both
detailing the battle which had thrown me here.
But there lies the first difference: instead of battling the forces of the Omniscient, as I had, that Impossible had fought *for* them.
I shuddered as I thought of the terrible power described in her book, a power that she had taken grasp of with all her might. The terrible, awful power that I
felt, every time I Sang my magic. Although the book did not say it I surmised that she had been one of the few to survive, but fail, the Test of Faith. She had
hidden it well, too, up until the point where she joined the Omniscient, I guessed. They had approached me, as well, with their offers, but I had been too
headstrong, too full of myself, to even consider it. I had killed the messengers, and them sent them back as my own message.
Although, now that I think on it, that made them all the more willing to come for me.
I had already read through her diary. I knew that every page would be burned in my memory. I shook my head, stood, and hid my own in the bookcase again.
The other's diary would be taken to Tina Macintyre, and if I am lucky, would be destroyed.
Just as her life had been, by her own hand.
My forced smile grew brittle at this, and I excused myself quickly.
The armor-like, full-body sensor suite that adorned me was no little bit uncomfortable, but I had been told that if I wore it to differing dimensions, the
readings would be able to 'match up' the dimensional constants that were present in my body, and the worlds I went to. This would hopefully give me a
ballpark guess as to where my home dimension is. The mathematics involved are nothing to sneeze at, though, and I had heard one of the scientists mumbling
about 'Seven dimensional spiral search' or some such as they fitted the suit to me. Since I couldn't have any 'contamination' from local
sources, they even had to make a new eyepatch for me, out of the same material.
These thoughts raced through my mind as I reached the Admin office. Swiftly checking that no one was there (and initiating a minor search along the strings of
gravity to make sure), I took a small, battered book from my collecting satchel, and laid it on the table.
To anyone else on this world, there was a strange and indecipherable symbol on the cover. The book itself would be filled with pages and pages of the same. I
reached up without looking, slipped another book out from the shelves, and placed it beside the other. Save only the age and wear of the first, the two were
identical. The name, in Syndan, on the cover was my own: Impossible".
I collapsed into the chair and stared at the two diaries. Both penned in a language known only to me in this world, both beginning with the same words, both
detailing the battle which had thrown me here.
But there lies the first difference: instead of battling the forces of the Omniscient, as I had, that Impossible had fought *for* them.
I shuddered as I thought of the terrible power described in her book, a power that she had taken grasp of with all her might. The terrible, awful power that I
felt, every time I Sang my magic. Although the book did not say it I surmised that she had been one of the few to survive, but fail, the Test of Faith. She had
hidden it well, too, up until the point where she joined the Omniscient, I guessed. They had approached me, as well, with their offers, but I had been too
headstrong, too full of myself, to even consider it. I had killed the messengers, and them sent them back as my own message.
Although, now that I think on it, that made them all the more willing to come for me.
I had already read through her diary. I knew that every page would be burned in my memory. I shook my head, stood, and hid my own in the bookcase again.
The other's diary would be taken to Tina Macintyre, and if I am lucky, would be destroyed.
Just as her life had been, by her own hand.