Book One - Chapter One: i
“Dreams are born within the stars and this is why we cosmonauts have such wonderful dreams.”
- Cillian O’Tuathail - Journal entry, Year 2618
Local Time: 25:48
Date: Day 126 of the Year 93 according to the Bohemian Calendar - Year 2623 according to the Galactic Calendar
Location: Ádh - Danu City - Planet Bohemia - Mid Risk Zone - MUD Territory - Galia
Cillian O’Tuathail, son of Cian O’Tuathail and grandson of Caedmon O’Tuathail, sat at the table, hand of cards held close before his face, eyes crinkled with concentration. The room was silent save for the deep hum from a distant engine room and the soft hissing coming from a nearby air scrubber.
Cillian peered over the top of his cards. He arched one eyebrow at the opponent, who sat directly opposite him. The opponent, whose name was Toal Mac a’ Mhuilleir, ignored Cillian’s pointed stare. Toal was a great hulk of a man. His muscular body appeared to be continuously offended by the attempt to constrain it within clothing, and his bulging muscles overflowed from a weathered pair of straining overalls. Toal was an unusually hairy man and his fiery red hair covered the entirety of his body like a crimson fur. Only his cheeks and the palms of his hands seemed immune. He also sported a topknot on his head, the light coppery-red hair tied up in a tight ball, whilst his long beard hung in six tight braids held together with brass rings.
Toal finally looked up and met Cillian’s eyes. Toal’s expression remained calm, but an involuntary twitch of his left eye betrayed frustration.
Cillian’s eyes lit up with triumph and he leant all the way back in his chair, cards following him back. They were playing an ancient Irish card game known as Twenty-Five. It was a familiar favourite on the planet of Bohemia, but almost entirely forgotten everywhere else. Just another vestigial relic of a bygone time, now long lost.
“Today Cillian…” grated Toal, but Cillian was waiting for this and immediately responded.
“Aha, I knew it!” Cillian said, leaning forward in his chair. “Toal is resorting to intimidation tactics. Such ungentlemanly behaviour. You all saw it. Goading me on in the hope that I might act precipitously, and by doing so make some grave error of judgement.” Cillian relaxed back in his chair. “At any rate, I am waiting for a sign.”
“A sign?” Toal asked in a world-weary tone. Toal was familiar with Cillian’s peculiar antics and knew him well enough to know that if he did not play along and enquire about the ‘sign’, then they would likely be there all night.
“Yes,” Cillian said, his face lighting up in an animated fashion. “You see, I believe that what appears to be random ship sounds - buzz of electrical wiring, whirr of air scrubbers, distant clunk of engine, grinding of teeth - oh wait those are your teeth - is in fact the ship trying to communicate to me about what card I should play next. I hypothesise that if I were to somehow decipher the code of its cryptic messages, then I would almost certainly achieve victory.”
Cillian looked around at the three other occupants of the table, eyes searching for validation of his theory.
Cillian’s sister, a whisper thin girl of twenty-five years of age who went by the name of Fiadh O’Tuathail, spoke up, “And how is the deciphering going?”
Fiadh was the ship’s pilot and despite her relatively young age, she was a piloting prodigy, and considered by most in the field to be one of the finest pilots of her generation. She had been the crew’s pilot for the past seven years, effectively from the day she attained the age of eighteen. She had completed her tertiary Military studies concurrently when she had been completing her secondary studies. Whilst this was not unheard of, it was fairly rare.
Fiadh now sat with her left knee bent up, left heel perched on the edge of her chair. Her chin rested on the left knee whilst she spun an energy pistol around and around the trigger finger of her left hand. A single lock of blue hair had fallen across her face, partly obscuring her vision, and she blew at it offhandedly. The lock of hair shifted slightly but then fell back to place across her right eye. She then blew frantically from the side of her mouth in rapid puffs of air, each blow becoming more and more intense until suddenly she ceased all together, finally accepting the futility of her efforts. She could have simply moved the offending hair with her free hand; however, stubborn as she was, she was physically unable to perform such an obvious action. Somehow, in her subconscious mind, such an action would be consummate to declaring defeat. Instead, she stared murderously at the recalcitrant hair, her eyes going cross-eyed in the process.
“So?” asked Fiadh, her eyes still crossed. “You going to answer me?”
“Well, admittedly, I am still awaiting the sign,” Cillian said with an air of mock dejection.
Fiadh yawned dramatically, her eyes refocussing on the table, before she said, “To be fair, Cill, you are taking your sweet arse time. Let’s get this game going already cause I am getting bored.”
“Ah, but I am about to unleash my grand move,” Cillian said. “My master plan will imminently come to fruition. The destruction I will unleash on you all will make the Convergence Wars look like a picnic breakfast of edible shrubbery in comparison.”
“And now the mixed metaphors start,” mumbled Fiadh.
“It’s the bidding phase!” Toal grated, his frustration clear in the way he gripped the table with his left hand, knuckles whitening. “You can’t win in the bidding phase. Just declare your bid so we can start the game.”
“Fine. I think my beautiful angel,” — he blew a kiss to the last member of the card game — “and I will win five tricks.”
The beautiful angel in question was Aislinn O’Guinn. Unlike the others, she sat upright at the front of her chair with perfect posture, feet together and knees at 90-degree angles to the ground. Her long snow white hair cascaded down her back. The hair was wavy to the point of almost being curly and she was twirling several strands around her right index finger. Aislinn was the Medical Officer aboard the ship.
“I fear he is too drunk or too high for this game,” Fiadh said. “Or both.”
“Am not!” Cillian snapped. “It is just part of my plan. Lull you into a false sense of security. Smokes and mirrors. Dagger and cloak. Picnics and shrubbery.”
The others just stared at Cillian.
“Anyway, now that the bidding phase is over and I have made the highest bid, I get to choose the trump suit.”
Cillian peered at his cards intently. “The trump suit will be… hearts! Because I have so many hearts in my love for my dearest angel. Loving hearts is the suiting trump!”
“Good, something is happening at last,” Toal said. “Okay, so given that Fiadh dealt, I will go first —”
“Wait!” Cillian yelled shrilly, specks of spittle flinging from his mouth. “I am robbing the trump.” And with that, he placed a card from his hand face down on the table and picked up the single upturned ace of clubs that was in the centre of the table. In the game of Twenty-Five, if the initial upturned card of play is an ace of any suit that is not the trump suit, then the holder of the ace of the trump suit can choose to ‘rob the trump’ after the bidding phase and before the commencement of the first round. This involves the player discarding any card of their choice in their hand by placing it face down and then picking up the upturned ace.
Toal’s mouth dropped opened in disbelief. “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can and I just did! I have the ace of trumps, so I have the right, nay the privilege, no, no… the gods given birthright to claim this ace,” said Cillian, his face turning red with anger.
“But you don’t have the ace of trumps,” countered Toal.
“How do you know? You cannot see my hand unless you are cheating! Are you cheating?”
Toal sighed deeply and looked askance at Aislinn for support, but no support was forthcoming.
“I know you don’t have the ace of trumps because I have the ace of trumps,” said Toal and with that he placed the ace of hearts face up on the table for all to see.
Cillian scoffed loudly before saying, “That is not the ace of trumps. This is!”
The face-down card discarded earlier was now turned face up by Cillian. It revealed an ace of diamonds.
The others all talked at once, their words piling on top of each other. Finally, after much arm waving, Fiadh silenced the others.
“Look, this is obviously pointless. He cannot even remember what suit he has chosen. I am out,” Fiadh said and threw her hand down on to the table.
“I know what the trump suit is! I chose it after all. Damnable shrubbery. It was diamonds, chosen for all the heart-shaped diamonds I will one day bestow upon my Angel.” Cillian flashed a smile of brilliant white teeth in the direction of Aislinn.
Aislinn and Toal followed Fiadh’s lead and placed their hands down on the table, indicating their forfeiture of the game.
“Oh, I win?” Cillian cried.
Aislinn smiled at Cillian and to distract him, then said, “Who would like some tea? Why don’t we all have some tea?”
Aislinn gently pried the cards from his hands.
“Oh, yes, tea would be lovely, my dear.”