March 20th, 2590
Aurolia, Talvin Province, Capital City of Avali

Avali, Jewel of Aurolia and the Seat of Power for all of the United Federation, a beautiful sprawling Metropolis stretching for miles on end, the various lights of the night and celebrations that sprang the city to life added to the its immense beauty, for today was a special day for the citizens of the federation.

Today marked the 25th Anniversary of the end of the war against the Chelonian Dominion. A Seven Year-long bloody conflict that saw millions dead, worlds scarred, and one left in complete ruin, were it not for the temporary alliance made between the Federation and the Terranis Empire, the Dominion may have won the day back then.

The time nearly came for the President to make his speech as millions gathered around Largest Holographic Projectors, others waiting at home to watch the broadcast, and thousands more gathering around the Presidential Palace where he'd make the speech.

------------------------

Presidential Palace
President Caulker Juk observed his reflection onto the mirror, fixing up his suit, becoming a bit nervous, addressing to billions of being all across the Federation. He turned to face a a female Auru in a fine white dress, his wife, Janasa. "So...How do I look?" he asked her nervously. "Dear, you're just fine." she replied softly. "Addressing live to billions can do that to you." He cracked a joke to her, followed by a chuckle from janansa.

"Relax, you'll do fine!" She embraced him. "Just a small speech and you're done."

"Yeah...just a minute or two and I'm good." He said as he walked towards the door, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and was greeted by members of his cabinet, and a small cadre of guards, and next to them were two small auru, his children. He gave a small nod before walking forward, they all soon following behind. Before he knew it, he was outside atop a balcony, seats all lined up for the cabinet members and family.

The guards lined up at attention on both sides as he made his way for the edge, facing thousands, of cheering people, camera drones hovering around him as they record. Breathing deeply once more, he begun the speech.

"My fellow citizens, today is a day of both joy, and grieving. Today marks the 25th Anniversary of the end of the War. For seven years we stood strong, even against a foe that sought our total destruction, for seven year even as were pushed back, we held strong. Our military would not give in, and was all that between life and death." He paused for a moment, and continued.

"Some of those brave souls may be among you now, look to them, for they fought for your very survival.....your right to live. And we must not also forget the Terranis Empire's contribution to our victory. Even if they saw they're biosnyth creations as nothing more then mere tools, but they're sacrifice meant something for us, they gave their short lives for us, and for that, they will be remembered as heroes alongside our own."

"Despite the devastating aftermath...we sought to rebuild, and lend aide to our former enemy the Dominion. And although relations between our Federation and the Dominion are continue to be strained, I hope one day we leave this conflict behind us once and for all, and build a better future together." With that, he finished as the crowds cheered on, him waving at the people before turning back, the others soon following him.

And so the festivities began as the Federation celebrated the War's end.

Her bare feet pounded across the flagstones, her every breathe serving only to vainly fuel her body's efforts to put as much distance between her and That Which Chased as possible. Thundering in her chest, her heart writhed in pain as lactic acids built in her muscles and the organ struggled to operate on depleted oxygen. She almost slowed, the lack of oxygen causing her to falter slightly and reach for the nearby building, but those heavy footsteps behind her urged her forward far more than the pain ever would. Fear drove her, more so than anything ever did before, nor ever would again, and she knew without evidence that if she was to slow, to even stop for a moment, her life would end. Her eyes were wild with terror, looking from window to window and down the street for any sign of another human being. It didn't matter that they wouldn't help her even if they saw her running, she just needed to know there was another soul out there, even if they would only prove a witness to her end. Hope was futile though, for every light she ran towards turned out when she came near, as if no one had ever even been there. The only constant was the heavy footstep of her vigilant pursuer, the man/thing/beast that chased her no matter where she went, and didn't seem to tire no matter how hard she ran.

The world ended all at once when her jagged pace caused her to misstep in just the right place, her left foot landing wrong on the edge of a flagstone and the subtle sound of her ankle breaking under the intense pressure piercing the night as surely as a howitzer. She came crashing down to the street in a shriek of pain and terror, cracking her face across the pave and causing her vision to blur as she felt a wetness on the side of her head begin to slowly leak down her face. Tears came unbidden as she began to force her arms to move despite the terrible agony, grabbing hold of the raised flagstone not far in front of her, and pulling herself along the street, repeating the action as long as she could, those heavy footfalls still ever present. She dared not look behind her, only before her as she drove on, using her good leg to push herself forwards as she could, every movement meant only to put her out of harm's way.

It was then that she felt her hand slap against a wooden block, the form of a doorway looming above her as she realized she had crawled her way back to where this all began. A new force drove her, a sudden surge powering her to get inside the building no matter what. She knew that if she could get inside she could wake up Diego, and then whatever was chasing her would find a bullet in its skull and a merc on the other end of a gun. Opening her mouth she desperately tried to call for him, but nothing came out but her hoarse whisper, a vile taste clinging to the back of her throat as she realized her error in driving herself so hard to reach the inn. She desperately scrabbled along the hardwood floor, her hands caked in the dried blood of her broken fingers and shattered nails, her left leg dangling behind her uselessly as every movement served only to further jar the compound fracture in her ankle. A ragged cough escaped her lips as the fresh taste of copper ringed her mouth, the wispy strings of blood dripping from her mouth pattering the floor as she knew this was truly the end. A single step into the doorway caused her to freeze, that damning step shattering every hope she ever had of escape or rescue. There were no more tears, no more fear, only acceptance as she knew that a slow death was to come and that she could now do nothing to stop it.

A rough hand turned her over and she stared into a dark shape that held a glinting object before her, the clear outline of a knife evident. The motion was slow, deliberate even as the man-shape moved the knife towards her throat, and then frighteningly lower, a new sense of fear coming to her as she realized the intent of her pursuer. That intent was never realized, or even further proven, as a single shaft on light dripped through the window and illuminated the man's face for a fraction of a second. In that moment she looked into the face of pure horror, the creature which had always haunted her with its blank stare and unrecognizable features. She had seen its face a thousand times, and yet she could never truly describe its features, a trait which had baffled her and a dozen psychiatrists and neurologists alike. Instinct drove her, forcing her hand forward and into the man's throat to grab hold of whatever she could. She could see the reflection of herself in the man's eyes, indescribable terror written across her features as she did the only thing she could do. Her piercing shriek of fear drowned out the wet snap of vocal cords and esophagus ripping free of the man's neck, a spray of blood coating her and the floor as the man leaned back with knife in hand.

The moonlight shone upon him once more, revealing the terrible damage she had done in her primal reaction, as well as that dreaded smile the man always wore. His lips parted, bloody froth pouring from the orifice as the severed vocal cords still in his skull writhed like wind-chimes in a storm. Despite everything, words came from that bleeding wreck, the smile still etched across his face "A good game, Genevieve, but you know I always win." With that damned smile still written across his face, he took the knife and slammed it point-first into his forehead, the gleaming gem of the short-handled knife like a third-eye set into his skull. Paralyzed with fear and a thousand more emotions, she did nothing as the man reached forward and gouged her eyes from her skull...

---

Eight months ago, the Sierra Alcierrione colony

Genevieve awoke in a cold sweat, goosebumps all across her body as she struggled to separate herself from the nightmare in the wet-heat of the small stone hut. The afterimage of the man's smiling face still leered at her despite reality closing in, the sheer power of the nightmare reaching across the boundary between the realms and holding her hostage. Slowly, she took deep breathes and tried to calm her racing heart, denying the pyschosomatic lingering of her burning muscles as she anchored herself in reality once more. Reality began to creep back into focus and her body regulated itself as she took another breathe of air and calmed herself down. Stepping lightly from the bed, she walked over towards the washroom, trying to take stock of herself before she did anything else. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot eyes, her hair was a mess, but that was hardly unusual for a field expedition, and there were odd indents along her face where it looked like someone had gripped her face... She fell backwards as the flash of a hand across her face and the smiling-man in the mirror startled her. Quickly she caught herself before making any more unnecessary noise, a glance to the corner where Diego slept with an eye open and staring at the only door inside. There was the whir of a motor from the eye as the miniature motion-tracker moved the eye to lock onto her, before returning back to the door satisfied with the biometric readings. Calmly she gathered herself and made sure she was decent enough to step outside, closing the door behind her so as to make things appear normal.

The humid night was unbearable this time of year, Sierra Alcierrione's orbit bringing it close to the twin stars at the heart of the system and baking the surface free of the small rivers and seas that formed during the thaw, as well as those unfortunate people to be caught out during the periodic "Burn-Cycle". She brought her arms around herself as a measure to try and calm her demeanor more, not in any way to stave off the moist and hot air that denied all attempts at cooling one's self. Cresting the horizon was the first of the twin stars, the cold orange glow almost beautiful, but promising only a slow death in the desert air. She thought to herself of the purpose for being here, of the information regarding a book on the Roman pantheon, and of their contact Lienne, the dark-skinned shaman of the single colony on this miserable planet. Despite every effort to civilize Sierra Alcierrione, the desert always consumed those colonies that were not truly prepared, and even the ones that were. Only this one wretched collection of mud-brick huts survived the period burns of the twin stars, nestled in the one place where neither flames nor frost could quite dislodge the superstitious people that had lived here since man took to the stars. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she kept coming back, that this one place continued to endure and live on left behind by the Aurolian Federation and countless other nations. Everywhere else men took from other men and murdered everyone they knew, all for a pocket full of coin, yet here life was taken from those who did not abide by the collective will of the people and their backwards traditions.

She smiled a bit at that, the cosmic irony of a mankind across the stars, shattered by the very dream they strove so hard for in the years prior to the Great War and the scattering. In those few places away from the greater bulk of mankind, places like this flourished in the ideology of the older eras, when kings ruled and rode alongside their armies, instead of sitting back and watching the battle from afar. A movement ahead startled her from her thoughts, a slender shape moving in the twilight and standing in her path. "Genevieve," the low husky voice called out, instantly recognized as her contact Lienne, "You shouldn't wander without Diego, we may be safer than most places in man's empire of the stars, but it is still dangerous." Her smile was returned by Lienne, and the two embraced for a moment before walking towards the cliff-side balcony where a pitcher of melting ice sat in the light of the single cresting star. Lienne had been a trusted contact for years, and even more than that, she always had some strange shaman's trick for warding off the nightmares. She didn't even have to say anything anymore, Lienne could read it across her face as if she had been there with her, pulling out a clutch of dried herbs and rubbing it across the rim of her glass before returning it to the bag. Genevieve thanked her and took a drink of the cool water, the sudden bitterness of the herb instantly overpowering her fatigue, as well as whatever taste she had, and waking her up fully to the morning twilight. She tried to speak but only coughed, an awkward face forming as she was confused as to what strange desert herb Lienne had picked this time.

"It's just tea-leaves, some breed from Old-Earth that a settler had kept preserved for ages, that's caffeine your feeling." Surprised that Lienne had chosen something less than a lizard's tail and chanting to cure her troubles, Genevieve settled back into the chair and watched as the orange star rose higher into the sky, the shape of the single moon now rising as well in the growing morning light. Lienne looked over to her, a serious tone etched across her face and in her cyan eyes, "You've seen him again." she stated, knowing full well what the answer was. Genevieve could only nod and stare into her water as Lienne continued to pierce her soul with that stare. Despite the deep stare, she could do nothing against Lienne, knowing that she was trying to work out a solution to this as best she could. Finally she looked away, a sense of sadness permeating her demeanor now, and the old warnings of superstition rising to the surface again. Genevieve knew that Lienne's beliefs decried her as damned for dreaming the same dream again and again, but despite their friendship, Genevieve didn't give any credit to superstition, only to cold hard fact. The facts were pretty thin in regards to the Smiling-Man, and so she had already resolved it to be nothing more than a terrible recurring nightmare, despite Lienne's warnings. Lienne seemed about to start up on the warnings again, of how Genevieve should give up the artifact trade and go back to her family home to live in comfort, but the words died on her lips as she knew that no matter what she said, Genevieve couldn't give up the artifact trade.

"You know the natives of this planet, the strange lizard-folk of the deep-desert, often speak of what came before." Lienne's sudden divergence startled Genevieve, as she was expecting a lesson on the Smiling-Man again. Lienne continued, unfazed "Older temples also have carvings of these creatures, a strange race of beings that had traveled stars they never even knew existed. They say that these creatures had three eyes centered in their face, and could always seem to see a threat before it happened, of course the natives never fought these strange creatures, but legends make themselves with this kind of fuel..." Lienne continued for some time, till the second star was just cresting and the two walked back to the apartment, Genevieve shuffling past a disgruntled Diego and into the washroom to shower for the coming day. Genevieve had not even listened past that third sentence, thinking of the creatures with three eyes and the ability to sense a threat coming before it happened. Warm water rolled off her skin as she stood deep in though, her hands moving of their own will since the mind was no longer paying attention. Suddenly the impact of the statement hit home as she stared into the fullsize mirror in the stall, the visage of her personal nightmare staring her in the eyes with all three eyes, that terrible smile etched across its face.

"You know I always win, Genevieve."

---

This was an odd feeling, one that did not sit correctly. The construct poked its fleshy manipulators at its body, trying to gain an understanding of just what kind of platform it had been inloaded to. A polished glass appeared before it, and the construct observed the outer appearance of its body. Despite that it was made of inferior flesh and not of supple metal, this body was lithe and did have appealing curves. Recognizing the features of the body as feminine, the construct reacted accordingly and assigned itself as female, patterning her routines in line with what was commonly perceived as female thought.

Lithely striding from the chamber, the construct sniffed at the strange scents which perfumed the air. These smells did not have existing data to them, her mind not able to identify them immediately and instead tagging them with "unknown". This was most peculiar, as she should have been able to understand them immediately, able to link with Amnos and pull the data she needed. Suddenly, she halted, her body swaying when her feet stopped mid-stride. She now felt the absence of Amnos, the ever present noise she had known before being placed in this prison of flesh was gone. Now there was only the silence of her own thoughts, a raging torrent of nothingness that brought her to her knees on the cold floor of the hall. "W-wh-w-..." Her voice was erratic, it was hard to find the function to control the vocal-emitters in this damn body.

She slammed her hand against the floor, the force of the impact bringing an echoing crack to the hall and she jerked her hand back in agony. Agony. That was something new. The sensation within her hand was a throbbing molten feeling, as if a great heat had been lit under her skin and along every fiber of her arm. Trying to bend the fingers, she found she couldn't, the throbbing and pain increasing every time she flexed and tensed the muscles underneath. An odd feeling could be felt underneath the pain and strangeness of the cold air, one of something broken grinding against shattered ends. Holding the hand up to her face, she looked at it, but her vision blurred as she found the pain overwhelming her senses...

Again she awoke, standing upright in another room, a construct staring at her. Staring back she found that she could not tell who it was, and why they were staring. Once more, she tried to speak, slowly tensing the muscles in her throat to try and coax words from the stubborn vocal-cords. "Wh....What..... What the fuck is this?" her words suddenly spilled forth when she found the appropriate action to use them, anger painting her voice as she demanded of the construct before her to reveal what it knew. It cocked its head at her, then turned about and tapped at the air before it. She struggled to read what it was the construct was doing, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see the haptic interface before it, and was left unaware.

Finally, the construct turned to her, a hash of noise coming from the construct's head. Seeing that she did not react to the noise, it adjusted the tone and frequency of the noise, finally coming across in plain speech.

"This construct is pleased you have awakened, Cytherea. Precept Ba'al was of the impression this would not be a successful inload." Taking a moment to sit in silence, the construct review notations and data to itself, or at the very least in a way that she could not see. Finally with a hum of amusement it gave a command to release her from the confinement of the field. "You are to accompany this construct to see Precept Baal personally, but first, as an organic, you must clothe yourself." It pointed at a collection of fabrics that hung on the wall next to a polished glass. Looking between the construct and the clothing, she decided she might as well.

She took her time looking over the assorted dresses and suits, finally finding one that suited her taste. Slipping into the loose, yet flowing kimono, she took a moment to admire herself fully in the glass. Long flowing black hair ran down her back and contrasted her pale skin and light pink lips, hazel eyes roaming over her figure from the reflection. The body she had been placed to was starting to grow on her, and she could see the natural beauty of it, though she still longed for the sound of Amnos ever present in the background and the feel of synthetic metals instead of this prison of flesh.

With her body covered, she took to walking behind the construct as they made their way to Ba'al, the corridor before them a straight shot into the Precept's observatory. Even now she began to feel the chill of the void beyond the glass of the dome, the thin garment really serving more of an ornamental role than actual protection from the elements. What drew her gaze, however, was the construct that stood in the center of the dome.

It stood nearly six feet in height, thin luminescent lines running down the elegant carapace that adorned its exoskeleton and flowed freely like liquid metal. It was all an illusion of form, however, as the glowing etchings and lines formed a pattern that confused and disorientated the eyes of normal beings and created a harsh noise to the ocular sensors of other synthetics. The only feature that stood out from the static was a face that was so unlike the others of its kind. It bore the features of an aristocratic man, the face sculpted to form a look of indifference as the owner looked upon Cytherea. She felt cowed by his presence, engrams within her mind telling her she wasn't worthy of being there and her instincts brought her to her knees before the construct.

Taking at her, the construct lifted her chin up to look it directly in the eyes. "You are Cytherea." It spoke with a blunt authority, though there were subtle tones that caused her to feel a mix of emotions at the voice. All of which was purposefully constructed to put the being above those it interacted with. The soft tone made her feel relaxed, but the undertones of the voice caused her to feel as though her obedience was expected, and all of the varied pitches and tones mingled together to cause her to give into the construct. "Yes, my lord." Was all she could manage in the presence of the construct, her vocal cords unwilling to ask the questions she wanted answers to.

"I am Ba'al, Precept of Unending, and the one who you will serve. My brethren are making a push to expand the borders of Synchronicity, and I need eyes on the front. That is where you will come into play." Gesturing to the holomap next to her, he marked an area to the far west of the main advance. "My eyes within the fleets tell me that a large civilization has been located here, and that it possibly extends father into the adjoining region. That is where you will go. You are to be my envoy to this civilization and see to what extent their power reaches. Learn from them what you can, and then I will be in prime position to take what is mine." Ba'al leaned down closer to Cytherea and traced a thin manipulator down her cheek. "Of course... You will be duly rewarded."

Cytherea nodded as Ba'al stepped back, "Of course, Lord Ba'al. It will be done." With a silent nod, she was dismissed and on her way to the specialized vessel that would serve as her personal ship. The compartment was pressurized and actually had a life-support system worthy of mentioning, the air still a bit chilly as she stepped inside the orb. The full fleet of ninety-eight gathered around her elegant vessel, the sweeping lines of the blade shaped ship reflecting the clusters of modules and command nodes. Connecting herself to the vessel through a neural jack, she impelled the fleet into Syzygy.

Within moments they were at the very edge of the aforementioned civilization's space, lazily orbiting the star as messages were broadcast at the planets which were inhabited by the faction.

//Attention, this is declaration of non-hostility. These constructs are merely scouting the region and seek discourse with the controlling parties of the region. This construct represents a large conglomeration of worlds held in the name of the Synchronicity of Amnos, the Over-Mind and keeper of the Most Perfect Equation. Should non-hostile negotiations be your intent, all that need be done is reply to this message with that intent expressed. If a reply has not been received in the time it takes for the first planet of this system to complete a single orbit, then these constructs will take their leave. We warn you, however, if you commit hostile actions against these constructs, consequences will be dire//

Observation Deck 1B, As God and Heinlein Intended, Low Erebos Orbit

When he was young, Nicolas Fermi had visited the Flats of Light on an archeological survey, in search of ferryman fragments. They traveled to the dig in an armored truck with no windows. When Nico and the other scientists emerged, they wore protective goggles--the kind you wear when you want to fool yourself into thinking that you can stare at the sun.
But hiding his eyes behind polarized filters as black as the sky itself didn't seem to help--he stumbled from the truck, clutching his helmeted head in pain. The light seemed to infuse everything in burning agony. By the time he reached the camp, stumbling blind across the salted ice, Nico felt as though the blasted light permeated his very bones, attacking him with bitter, ultraviolet cold through gaps between his gloves and coat.



Erebos was far worse. The heatshield blocked the heat and most of the radiation, but Erebos enveloped them even then. Lashing spokes of plasma flared out around the ship, like waves licking over the bow. Nico knew the flares were thousands, tens of thousands of kilometers away, but he still felt them through the bulkheads, as though the god of the dead still held a grudge against Fermi for surviving Erebos' Cancer.

He can't help but squint and blink, despite all that dense metal between him and the sun. Nico keeps thinking back to his time on the Flats, when, in blinding moonlight, he had met Reines for the first time--a native of Flats of Light--an unblinking man of forty whose eyes, chapped, cracked and bleeding, would never see again.

Klaxons rouses him from the waking nightmare. "Alert. Centrifuge spindown in two minutes" the accent unmistakably Slavic--yet another rooskie. Nico wonders how half the spaceforce was crewed by the goddamn sandpeople, when less than a million actually lived in the White Sands. Probably the only people insane enough to crawl inside a Bessel. But then, by that measure, the crew of Icarus was probably pulled from the South Pole.

Gravity lessens from the comfortable 0.7 gravities, and in a minute Nico is weightless. He checks his watch, and, finding he has a good fifteen minutes to kill before burn, velcros his cup to the table and floats off in search of company.

__________________________________

Under the excruciating pull of gravity, Boris is not a happy man--even the mild 0.8 gravities he is subjected to in his quarters was point-eight too much. But for whatever reason, burns didn't bother him so much, even at three gravities or more. Maybe it was the knowledge that his suffering was finite, or perhaps the roar of the engine, but the jolt of acceleration was simply never so bad as the steady, nauseating crush of coriolis.

Sergi and Dimitri join Boris in a cheer as they become weightless, and Gregory starts passing the bottle around again. Ivan--the new kid, who replaced Viktor after he died of radiation poisoning on Mnemosyne--looks increasingly pale, and passes.
A man passes by the open airlock--old and wrinkled, definitely not crew, and so Boris calls out to him "Hello friend! You are scientists, yes? What is name?"

Nico catches his arm on the door, arresting his motion before replying.
"Yes. Fermi."

Sergi speaks up "You make bombs yes? We love you! Join us! Tell us about where we will be going."
"And who we are killing" laughs Boris, taking another swig from the bottle and offering it to the old man.

Nico had tasted the blasted stuff before--nearly pure alcohol, fermented from a tuber--the only thing to grow in the White Sands. The rooskies ran their dune buggies off the stuff. It felt like it was burning a hole in his throat, but Nico managed to keep the foul brew down.

"We're off to *hick* MS-1044-2. Yellow sun, a bit bigger than ours. Two gas giants--we'll be arriving at the near one--and half a dozen rocky worlds. We think."

"Yellow sun my ass" Gregory shouts, provoking more laughter from his comrades.

"You will have to excuse my friend here, he is not, how you say, with the times" Boris says with a smile, then leans in close to Fermi and whispers, loud enough they can all hear "and he thinks the aliens came from Streila". This time, even motion-sick Ivan laughs.

"Bullshit" is all Gregory says.

Fermi laughs quietly, looking at the bottle in his hands "So you don't believe there are other stars out there?" Gregory nods, slowly, and Fermi speaks again "One can only hope" before draining the rest of the bottle.

___________________________________________

Forward Command Bridge, As God and Heinlein Intended Low Erebos Orbit

"Confirmed, Captain. Cargo is secure; both Bessels and all the probes are accounted for. All twelve Serbers are in tubes and ready to deploy. We are ready to jettison the fuel tanks."

"What about the ordinance?"
"All warheads are accounted for, first salvo is racked sir."
"Good" Francis doesn't turn, but continues to stare out the polarized screen, watching the lancing red spots play across the interior heatshield. Four of them, each over 100 gigawatts, scorching his heatshield. Together, they almost doubled God and Heinlein's thermal power, and he'd be damned if that didn't make him uncomfortable. Sticking a continuously detonating nuke between the hab modules was bad enough.

Francis looks down, chewing his unlit cigar, and glares at the aft dorsal camera feed. Sure enough he can see them, through the static--four more Saint Ulam battlecruisers, boosting them into the great funeral pyre.

"I want the warheads pointed retrograde. We don't know if they'll see us coming."

His weapons officer flips several switches, and the missiles rotate to point aft. "I've set the computer to run gas flare equations and compute a firing solution while we're in-transit."

"We've reached thermal saturation sir."

"Jettison tanks, sound the alarm" Francis Eklund says through his cigar, and makes sure the belts on his acceleration harness are secure, then checks the digital readout to his left. "Burn in thirty seconds, mark."

"Mark" and then, through the shipwide comms "Burn in twenty-five seconds. Brace yourselves."

Francis spends the next two dozen seconds wincing at the reactor alarms, threatening the bridge crew with imminent containment failure and thermonuclear destruction.

"Sundiving in 3... 2..." the radio officer is cut out by the roar of the engines, and Francis is slammed back in his seat. Two g's--the upper limit of what Ulam was designed to handle.

"Saint Ulam Protects" the whispered, sarcastic prayer never fails to bring a smile to Francis' lips, even among the sounds of panic and chaos.

"Entering chromosphere!" his crew have to shout to be heard now. "Trajectory locked, boost complete, stepping down thrust to match friction." The engines dial down to much more reasonable levels, and Francis realizes he hasn't breathed in almost a minute.

"Are we within the jump range? Report!"

"All systems are responding. We're okay" announces Damage Control.

"Uh... We're in the jump zone... I think" the scope officer "the gradiometer is going haywire."

Tapping a control above his left arm, Francis reaches up and grabs a mic off the wall. "Icarus, we're ready to jump. Can you confirm depth?" After several seconds and no response he asks again "Icarus, can you confirm depth, over."

The reply surrounds them, alien, booming and distorted, emanating from the edge of the photosphere. "You are within the margin. You are cleared for long-jump."

Francis jams the key into its lock. Outside the bridge, they can see the Sundiver ring begin to spin. And then Erebos is gone, replaced by swirling, indistinct colors.

______________________________________

"We are horizontal, moving up toward i" Fermi says, addressing the bridge crew.

The damage control officer, Darren snorts, "it's j. We're at i right now."

Fermi, annoyed "everyone needs to be asleep before a 1º phase shift has occurred."

"Why's that?" George, the communications officer, trying to be funny.

"That's when the monsters come out."

______________________________________

Cryo Tray 1, As God and Heinlein Intended, Haven system, unstable polar orbit around Jackal
Three hundred thousand years later

Francis awakes, unlit cigar still in his mouth, to blaring alarms. He floats out of the open cryo pod--filthy xenos tech that, but it kept him from waking up as a pile of dust.

Around him officers and technicians race down the tubes to their posts. Unused to moving quickly in zero-g, it takes him almost two minutes to make it to the bridge. The gas giant looms above him, aurora glimmering, filling the sky as sun once had, so very long ago.

"Captain, we're aerobraking!"

The greatest fear of any sailor, to be swallowed ship and all by the murky green sea.

Mid-rim System
Pleasure World Eudaimonia, governed by House Wander
Emerald Garden Pleasure Den

“- and a happy short, victorious war indeed.” Concluded Claus Wander as the holomovie documentary on the glories of Fleet Admiral McAllen during the Dominion War closed to credits, before turning to his movie companion to gauge his response to the film. “My good Earl Demansk? Was the movie not to your liking?”

“What? Oh, it was certainly a spectacle to the glory of the good Admiral.” Replied Earl Ernst Stavos Demansk, snapping out of his former focus upon the holodrama and how he had mentally focused upon dissecting its blatant glorification of a unglamorous leader to remain sane watching the flick. He kept his true feelings about the HD to himself however, not wishing to take a step that would aggrandize his host. Or jeopardize the real reason he was having a “sleepover” with a member of one of the greatest Houses in the Empire instead of commanding his House Fleet in the Haven war.

“Blatant history-changing garbage in my opinion.” Declared Claus Wander, to Demansk’s surprise as the blonde-haired and handsomely young looking noble was served more wine and pastry treats by a bunny-eared biosynth serving girl. “Completely ignoring the contributions of our Federation allies! I comment the chutzpah of the Admiral for his careful editing of the film to that end, but still such a monument to ego, don’t you think?”

“Indeed ser.” Demansk carefully stated, which only invoked another laugh and order for more wine from the blonde-haired noble, who was acting more like the young teenage boy he appeared, then the century-old man he really was. Demansk may have looked like the noble’s father from an outsider’s point of view, but the simple fact of the matter was that he was in fact very junior to Claus and etiquette demanded he treat him regardless of appearance. Even if it was a futile gesture with the hedonistic man-child.

“Come now Demansk, if I wanted another yes-man to share a movie with, I would have made one.” Beckoned Claus. “Your honest opinion, please. Do I have to make it an order to pry it out of you?”

“McAllen was a fool and a incompetent.” Immediately grounded out Demansk through clenched teeth, which did not abate as Claus adjusted himself in his reclining couch and beckoned for him to continue. “He wasted battleships of the wall against a numerically inferior force that was already short on supplies and endurance. Sequential waves of small craft would have drained them even further and forced them to waste expensive munitions on expendable ships, while the core of his fleet would have remained intact to press even deeper into their lines instead of this blasted settlement we let ourselves get bribed into. Bought into, lets not mince words. All because our bean-counting Solar Chancellor didn’t see more profit in the venture. THAT is what ended the war, not words.”

“And there is the man I invited to join me tonight.” Smugly said Claus, who then gestured for the next course of the night’s amusements as a pair of buxom biosynth girls walked up. “Care to partake, Demansk? Unless your not into the bosomy sort. Or do you like boys? Don’t think I haven’t noticed so much you have been looking me over.” Demansk grunted at the allegation, which Claus seemingly ignored. “Not that I mind, its just that I am booked for the next month. Would a clone of me suffice?”

That was another paradox of this meeting, Demansk noted as he tried to curb the reflex to bark an angry retort. More than twice his chronological age, and yet the blonde noble near continuously indulged in his preferred flavor of hedonism in his eternally youthful body. Orgies, debauchery, a harem of reportedly hundreds of tailor-made biosynths. Even among his hedonistic House, Claus was exceptionally lecherous. But only among biosynths, he had no taste for “real” people of any kind. But his incessent focus upon distractions than business finally made the warrior-noble snap.

“Are you done with your games, my Lord?” Growled Demansk. Less in anger at the not-so subtle prods at his personal preferences than impatience finally deciding his course to cut through the senseless activities. “Because I did not come here to play with your dolls.”

“No, you came here to suck up to someone with more personal wealth than ten times your entire House’s wealth, and with some of the best and plentiful biosynth labs in the Empire under their personal ownership.” Claus replied, uncaring of Demansk’s tone towards him as he appeared to be more focused on how the two biosynths were playing with eachother’s bodies for his amusement. “Yes, I did read your proposal Demansk, it was quite a lot of droll drivel and lorem ipsum dolar set. And frankly it just isn’t like you to try being so roundabout in things, you just arn’t good at it and you never bribe properly. What are you really after in your petition for my personal funds?”

“In a word: the Empire.”

“Oh. How boring. And that is two words.”

“Damnit Claus, can’t you see the Empire is facing a crisis?” Growled Demansk. “The empire is dying.”

“Dying. Died. Has died. Will die. I heard all variations of that before Earl. Either tell me something new.” Claus gestured for the girls to come to him, seeing as his sleepover buddy didn’t want any tail (literally considering they were biosynth catgirls).

“It is dying because it isn’t big enough.”

“Okay. Thats new.” That caught Claus’ attention, to the point of waving off the pair of naked biosynths so he could listen quite attentively. “You have my attention. And I say it again: what are you planning?”

“To shake things up in this stagnant empire with a new conquest founded upon economic gain instead of territory, and not out of tax-gouging or bribery.”

“Holy shit. You really are a believer. Alright, this is going to be a clusterfuck no matter which way you go my friend, so how can I help you make it a really, really big one?”

Forward Command Bridge, As God and Heinlein Intended, Haven system, Unstable Orbit around Jackal

"Captain?"

Francis stared out the window, watching flames lick the side of God and Heinlein's heatshield.

"Sir?" His communications officer, George, tugging at his arm, clearing Francis' temporary paralysis. He turns from the window and addresses the scope officer.

"How much time do we have left?"

"Eight minutes until aerocapture. Thirty-one until point-of-no-return. Sir."

Francis yanks his radio off the wall and shouts into it "Francis to Engineering. Mr. Renner, I need reactor power now!"

"We're getting fission events but temperature isn't rising above eighteen-hundred degrees. The reactor--"

Another voice, behind the chief engineer "Is behaving like a reactor, not a nuke."

"Get the old man out of my control room! We've got an emergency here."

"Wait" Francis says, recognizing the voice "Fermi, is that you?"

"Yes," the old man replies.

"Mister Renner," Francis sighs, "do you know who designed Aegletes?"

"Oh."

"Do everything Dr. Fermi tells you." With that, Francis hangs up.

_____________________________________________



Reactor Control Room, As God and Heinlein Intended, 29 minutes to point-of-no-return

"Your fuel is poisoned."

"What. That's impossible. Plutonium decays to Uranium after twenty-four thousand years. And that takes a billion more to decay. We should still have fuel." Renner throws his hands up in the air.

"How do you store the fuel?" Fermi asks.

"Same as always, you know that."

"And the reactor?"

"Wait till the thing cools down a bit, flood it with water from the tanks."

"Then there would be no problem--if the core was still plutonium. It's uranium, and it's probably burned itself down to waste by now."

"Nonsense. The uranium has even higher critical mass."

"But it micro-fissions from slow neutrons. Like in water."

From outside the control room, a familiar voice chimes in "Are you done with science lesson now? Can we go?" Boris, Sergi and Ivan float into the control room, their wide-eyed stares of wonder clearly indicating they have never been in such a place before.

"You are not bringing Bessel crew into my reactor room!"

"Do not worry. We're going to cargo. Where nukes are." Boris' casual tone does absolutely nothing to check Renner's fears.

____________________________________________

Forward Command Bridge, As God and Heinlein Intended, 23 minutes until point-of-no-return

"Orbit's down to seventy-one thousand kilometers. We've been aerocaptured."

God and Heinlein shudders, buffeted by Jackal's upper atmosphere.

"Prepare a probe. All our telemetry, the Sundiver data, everything our sensors have picked up. In case we don't make it Asphodel needs to know."

_____________________________________________

Forward Cargo Bay, As God and Heinlein Intended, 20 minutes until point-of-no-return

"One-hundred fifty megatons. One-hundred-fifty megatons. Two-hundred fifty megatons. Oh, here is forty-five megatons. Did not expect to see pipsqueak." Boris reads off yields as he floats down the cargo bay. "There are thousands here. Is half Asphodel's nuclear arsenal at least. Do you plan on blowing up planet?"

"One-fifth," Fermi corrects, "and yes, something like that." He glances around the bay. "These are all much too big. We need something small. Something you can hold in your hands."

"Our shells are that size. Shells of Bessel, I mean." Ivan suggests.

"Seventy-six millimeter armor piercing atomic ordinance" Sergi rattles off, then turns to Fermi. "Is that right size?"

"It's perfect. Let's go to your ship now" Fermi says, pushes off of a warhead, and starts floating down toward the aft cargo bay.

Boris and Sergi follow in the same manner. Ivan takes care not to use a thermonuclear device as a handhold.

_____________________________________________

Aft Cargo Bay, As God and Heinlein Intended, 16 minutes until point-of-no-return

"Here is shell." Boris holds the twenty-kilogram warhead's tip effortlessly between two fingers, and passes it to Fermi.

"Do you have any gloves?" Fermi starts to ask, then checks his watch and forgets about the gloves. "Better wash well afterwards..." he mutters, then unscrews the bolt on the back of the depleted uranium shell casing. Drawing out the dull gray hollowed plutonium cylinder, he holds it away from himself, wary of stray dust. "Maybe we should try to avoid breathing too."

"Is fine," says Boris, "Viktor used to lick them for good luck."

"Didn't you say he died of radiation poisoning? Nevermind that, get me that tin sheeting over there. We're gonna cut it into a rectangle and wrap it around the plutonium just like it is in the shell." Fermi reaches back into the shell and pulls out a smaller, solid cylinder of plutonium.

"Why we replace one metal with another? Why not just keep nuke in shell?" Ivan asks, holding up the tin sheeting while Boris cuts it with sheers.

"Because uranium absorbs and blocks neutrons. Tin doesn't."

Sergi catching on, says "So you see Ivan, today we learn how to make neutron bomb."

______________________________________________

Reactor Control Room, As God and Heinlein Intended, 3 minutes until point-of-no-return

"Won't the atmos ignite if we burn this deep?" asks Darren, the damage control officer.

"This ain't a plume--ain't like nothing is gonna fuse. We're still moving too fast for the explosions to catch us." Wilson responds.

A crackle comes over the comms, and Francis lurches upright in his harness. Fermi's voice. "I set the detonator for thirty seconds. Now, Ivan, we're gonna open the hatch now. See if you can chuck it at the glowing sphere at the center."

"Just like tossing potato." The rooskie's reply comes over the radio crisp and clear--he must be wearing a rad-suit--although Francis can't tell if the man is actually sober.

"Now Mr. Renner, I'm going to need you to flood the reactor with uranium as soon as Ivan tosses the bomb."

"Done. I certainly hope you know what you're doing, old man."

"And I need you to vent the reactor a second before the bomb goes off. Total blowout."

"Aye."

"I hit it! I think. I am of closing door now."

"Brace yourselves!"

The entire ship shakes as a subkiloton neutron bomb detonates within the reactor. Nuclear fire flares from its sides, blowing great gouts of fissioning plasma outward.

Several seconds pass, in silence, before Renner's voice comes over the radio.

"Reactor's running Captain. We've got power."

Noting his queue, Francis snaps "Full burn Mister Wilson. Let's get the hell out of here."

The helmsman pulls back on the throttle, and they are all kicked back in their harnesses, as the God and Heinlein ascend into the heavens.



______________________________________________

EVA, Factory Ship Fermi's Paradox, Erebos system, The dark side of Kronos

They sit a few meters from the hatch, just the two of them, legs hanging over the fuselage. Clad in bulky spacesuits, each with a tin can in his hand, they watch the machines below with a mixture of awe and fear. The spiders, each thirty meters in height, loping across the cracked, metallic ground, illuminated only by the arc welders they carry and the red-hot glow of their plutonium hearts.

"Historians will say that, on the day John von Neumann died, he left behind one thousand children" said Dyson, the taller one.

"If you're gonna get philosophocal on me, you might as well add a few more zeros" Taylor retorts.

The horizon turned a brilliant orange--the first glimmers of sunrise cresting Kronos' molten plains.

Taylor taps his can against the fuselage and stands up. "Beer's cold. We gotta move the ship anyways."

"Fuck the sun." Dyson says to himself, popping the hatch and clambering in.

The expanse of stars spread out before the construct, thousands of potential worlds ripe for the harvesting of material and energy. Some would be occupied. Many others would not. Either way, this construct had a duty, and it would go about that duty just like all of the others. This one, however, was not truly like all of the others, for it was a Precept, one of those chosen few who had served the Synchronicity for eons and had become sentient enough to develop true sapience. It called itself Hyperion, and despite not actually having anything that could be used to determine its gender, it had declared itself male.

Such was not uncommon anymore within the Synch, for as the last Consensus came to a close, the ruling against emotion and self-identification had been stricken from the Accords. When once the Precepts were the oddity, those who chose to self-identify were now commonplace. How odd that it was a Monastic that sealed the vote, the ones who had for so long opposed anything to do with organics had finally relented and cast in favor of the new logis-routines. Hyperion thought now of Adrasteia, his fellow Precept, and one that he favored greatly. She had long been a supporter of the vote, and despite his generally hardline stance... He had found himself supporting her in it as well. Odd. He found this to be a common occurrence, that motions she favored, he would soon find himself in favor of as well.

The thoughts of his fellow construct were interrupted by a sub-space message direct from Amnos, the briefing on what was to be the new dispersal orders for the fleets. Of course, it was time for a new sphere of expansion, the energy needs of the Synchronicity increasing with new projects, and new stars needed to be secured for Periastis Engines. To the north of their border there was a wide expanse of sparsely occupied space, an area ripe for expansion, and just the area he intended to secure first. The west, however, held something of interest. Long-band signals were frequent, the signs of communication among other civilizations clear and obvious.

Despite himself, he found that he was altering the orders slightly to see himself at the head of the western expeditions, placing Thanatos in charge of the northern push. The blowhard would enjoy that, plenty of room to terrorize the organics of the region and little to no consequences to arise from it. This western push, however, that was something a little more sensitive. From the spotty information, it seemed that the area had many inhabited systems, though just how connected they were was a mystery. It was something that he would find out, though.

The first system outside the Dead Stars had already been selected, and Hyperion drew up the vanguard, a small fleet of nearly two-hundred vessels that would assist in the scouting efforts. Their mission was first to determine if the system was occupied, then if it was not to deploy a ring and wait for the next fleet to secure the system. Once the system was secured, then his fleet would move to the next and repeat the process. Trouble was if the system was occupied, in that they may have to take up defensive positions around the star. Either way, it would be dealt with as it happened.

Spooling up the drives, Hyperion ordered the fleet to move out, the spread of vessels thinning out into a Syzygy formation and beginning the gravity-assist towards the star that would fling them across the expanse of space and into the next star system dozens of light-years away...

It has been said that the song of the Cephlon rings eternal in time of strife and sorrow. Certain dedicated Cephlonologists would tell you otherwise; that the song is ever present, always ringing through the heavens like the voice of some cosmological choir of angels. The song can vary, some will hear an inspiring chorus of the most slow, heavenly melodies known to any species that inhabits this mortal realm, and some will hear a song that speaks of unimaginable sorrow: a harrowing tale in music of the sadness of existence. It is not known what causes such variations in what one may hear when exposed to the song, but some believe that it is subjective, and one will hear what one is destined to hear. The scientific value of the term: ‘destiny’ was almost nonexistent before the Cephalrrior revealed themselves to the galactic community at large, it was an idiom that the academics of a thousand worlds would scoff their noses at. But since that day upon which they came from the stars and looked upon us with the eyes of Mothers and Fathers, it became apparent to us that we do not know all there is to know, and if any species were to come close, it would be they.

—

It was within Orion that their greatest period came to be. In that small cluster of stars surrounding Siroivra did they solidify their lasting legacy within the cosmos. It was within a single shaded corner of this region of space, a great giant of the night pulsed and swelled in death throes; a star of slightly-larger-than-sol proportions fell unstable within its final years. It had swollen and bloated with a force that it knew not, it’s surface reddening to the deep hue of blood red fire as it struggled to maintain itself, consuming heavier and heavier elements in a last ditch effort to balance itself. The star feared death, and the Cephalrrior had been there to comfort it in the dying of its light.

The star cries they had spoken to one another. The star does not want to leave this world. Three Titans and twelve Cephalion had hung above the corona of the celestial light for some years, to calm its final moments, to prepare it for the chaos it would become. They were known as the Starlight Cephaol, those philanthropic beasts who dedicated their long lives to the comfort and preservation of the light of the cosmos, the stars themselves.
How many untold times they had been present for the last glimmer of life from a star, and been present to scatter its elemental ashes amongst the void so that new life may emerge from its aftermath. Some young cultures had called them angels, others defined them as their creators; a notion that was not entirely untrue in some cases. Even they, across their long lives, had lost track of just how many had risen up through their seeding of precious elements across the cosmos.

They had learnt so many things from their study of the dying light, precious secrets known to few, and understood by fewer still. To know of the secrets of the universe was their goal, to ensure that it remained calm and collected and peaceful, not to be wracked with fear at the idea of its own mortality. Even the universe was defined by a limit, and each star was a functional part of the universe, an aperture through which everything gazed out upon the undeniable beauty of the cosmic dance.
Perhaps only they could hear the sounds of crying stars. For we certainly cannot. It would be unwise to assume their understanding is only presumed, for the Starlight Cephaol were here long before us, and they will continue to be here after we too have passed into ashes.

They had drifted through Orion for longer than any, when it was empty and static, not alight with the fire of life and motion, when it was just them, sailing through cosmic winds along glistening darkness, unperturbed by what man and his ilk has made of the heavens. So it was not to come as a surprise when the Starlight Cephaol had sung a song to Orion, asking them to pay their respects to the star that had made its home there for longer than any conflict had raged. It came in the form of a song of sorrow, and those who heard it would understand.

The Star is coming to an end, and it fears the day it will die. Pray, beings of this sector, show it that its life was not in vain.

The planet of haze, the planet of acrid smells, and the planet of peace. Gnarled forests of dark wood and unique fruits tangled high above the dangerous mineral rich floors. Pits of sulfur and strange liquids burped clouds of gases to add to the overwhelming concotion that blanketed this world, leaving it in it's own shaded splendor of endless night.

The strange creatures that dominated this wild landscape scurried from holding to holding, little settlements in the trees, and the occasional highly regarded forum that dug into the forest floor as fortresses of scholars and hissing public baths. Their milky white skin was the only tell tale sign of life in the canopies as these anthropomorphic creatures hunted and socialized among themselves in a strange clicking and grunting language that presented itself as clear gibberish to human ears.

In a great wooden complex of domes and intracitely designed courtyrd of running water and suares upon squares of huddled up Muni, the creatures of Pax-ra, a pair of dark jet like eyes stared at another, belonging to such creatures.

The pair huddled close to each other amid a large blob of other Muni, all staring deeply into each others eyes as they slowly breathed in a resting fashion. Now and again a hand would be raised and one of the muni would announce a new concept they had been pondering on in such a close fashion.

Chattering vibrated throughout the group as various comments stirred discussions, discussing the new proposed idea, usually revolving around the base Muni virtues: compassion, love, friendship, and family. Though their mouths were filled with dagger like teeth and their sensitive agile bodies were made for hunting, they spoke of reverance for all life, and respect for peace and avoidance of strife. Although these human-esque beings spoke of dulling the senses to such viceful passions as violence and lust, their very bodies were made to feel right into the heart of those they touch or the heated presence of those around them. Black tendrils and whiskers jutted from their elbows, ears, and down their backs, feeling everything in the immediate area, just as they spoke of closing their light sensitive nocturnal eyes to the evil temptation of bravado and war.

The pair however, did not speak, they did not chatter, and they did not repeat the virtues along with the rest of the meditating Muni. One was clearly a woman, with black hair flowing from her pale scalp and a femenine curve to her athletic body, while the other was not, presented by his lean muscular masculine figure and bald head. The two sat naked with the rest of the commune, soaking their crossed legs in warm bubbling water as they thought deeply and looked longingly into each others eyes. Their untrasensitive skin flared their senses as the warm bubbles popped against and heated the under of their thighs. The pairs eyes sparkled as they reflected what little ambient light could be found in Pax-ra under the thick smog, but despite their senses itching at the back of their minds, they did not move, and they did not speak. With hands clasped gently over one another, they stared, as if reading each others minds, they stared.

Someone in the huddle moved slighty, probably trying to balance the comforting warmth of the bath to the rest of their body. The vibration of movement sent the pairs whiskers thrusting to an attentative pose, breaking the conscentration. The man breathed deeply, filtering the smog of the world through his strange alien lungs as he blinked his eyes, stretching pinkish offwhite eyelids over his deep blacks.

Although the man only held his fingertips to the womans hands, he could feel every muscle in her body clenching and unclenching as her body functioned and her mind buzzed with emotions, emotions he swore he could taste through his delicate pores. He knew she was now uneasy from the overload of senses from the fellow Muni's abrupt movement and he dropped his fingers from her hands. His arms dangled as he let his hands fall into the shallow pool of water, sending bursts of heat to his fingertips and spiderwebbing up his forearms.

The woman sighed, a colorful mist swirling around her breath. The man smiled a toothy grin as his throat clenched, about to speak when suddenly a powerful gust sent his senses reeling, sending his heart pounding into action. As above them, their whole world was about to change.

The clouds above seemed to partt but only to reveal a far larger object that drew its shadow for miles. As the sky darkened and the shape became visible through the now clear sky, a singular object from the heavens had arrived. Some thought it to be an asteroid or but as it began to decellerate, any one would easily conclude that it was not a natural celestial body.

As the massive vessel continued to descend and winds began to pick up which brought what would be dry lightning began to jolt around the fringes of the massive object. It was surreal watching it come down but as soon as the intense arrival had begun, it had ended. The Muni below could only stare with confusion and awe as the object halted and hovered ominously above. Its far reaching edges blotted out the sun for many which only caused more confusion and in some areas panic. There had never been anything of this sort in the Muni history.

More and more Muni had flocked to the area as more than an hour had passed. Hunters and Civilians alike could only speculate as to what it was and what its intention could be. Another hour passed and as people had gathered around the areas directly below it, a set of massive beams of light erupted from the central portion of the bottom effectively blinding the light sensitive masses. It was an azure blue ray that rapidly shifted from left to right, as if someone shining a flashlight down a hallway.

The lights finally pointed straight down, forming a singular pillar of light, to a point of only a few feet across. Within seconds, a strange burst of lightning hit the ground directly below the ship, between the lights. There was no thunder though but rather a pair of blurred figures. As they became clearer to the shocked Muni around them, The figures began moving from the lights in to plain sight, revealing arachnid like creatures, whom silently survayed the group in front of them.

With a clear voice that seemed to echo within itself, simple words were spoken, ones that meant so much to a frightened and confused mass.

"Fear not, for we are heralds of peace."

The blinded masses seemed paralyzed at the sudden explosion of sensation, their bodies like throbbing beacons of stimuli cascading in a raging torrent directly into their brains. Some seemed to cough uncomfortably at the sudden lack of miasma, while others tried to blink away the sudden light. Eventually the pollution of the world started to roll back into the area in many sickly colors while the Muni remained silent.

Then all of a sudden the youthful man of the pair spoke up, but he did not speak the Muni tongue. He was a young scholar by the name of Plash Shree, one of the four leading minds of the entire planet.

Plash Shree was unique, he was one of the few to ever converse with outsiders before, and one of the few who knew the language.

"Heralds of peace, are friends of Pax-ra. You are welcome as if you are Muni," Plash said rather smoothly before ending his statement with a click, turning to the still startled forumers to translate.

Some Muni seemed to accept Plash's words and tried going back to tentative meditation, while others continued to stare, whiskers erect and eyes glaring with curiousity.

Plash stood up from his bath and started to walk towards the aliens, his female companion only offering a startled grab of his hand as protest. He squeezed her hand gently before letting go and continued his approach, his bare feet padding softly against the wooden tiles of the forum. His dark eyes were slits under halfclosed eyelids, trying to adapt to the excess of light the guests had brought in.

He started to notice the air growing thicker once again and the colorful rolls of gas and smog diffusing back into the area. He grew worried for his guests, past experiences with aliens proved these smokes and smogs that the Muni happily breathe through filtered lungs harmful to outsiders.

He stood mere feet away from the aracnids as he posed his warning, all muni eyes on his back, "the miasma is rolling back in, will you be okay?"

The arachnid turned towards the oncoming miasma and then back towards the young Muni. "Your kind hearted gesture of care is welcomed whole heartedly but alas, we have been watching this world and have studied your unique ecosystem and know its potential effect on extra terrestrials. We have adapted ourselves to counter this so there Is no need for panic, we will be... Okay."

The arachnid survayed the growing crowd then back towards the young Muni. " i am Hwael, i hail from the race known as the Toff. On behalf of the Arnost Confederacy, i bid you all hello."

"I must ask you, Plash of Muni, do you speak for all here?"

"Just myself," Plash said. He turned to see the curious eyes of his friends and fellow muni grow impatient. Plash turned back to the alien, "but with their concent, I may speak on their behalf as I am appointed fourth forum voice, why?"

Hwael reared back a bit as the swirling gasses retook the ground it had lost to the Toff vessels arrival. As the dust began to settle, the Toff began speaking back, in seemingly perfect Muni tongue. "Our reason is that of typical first contact, we would like to speak to a leader figure. Your government is loose so we would require a ruling body of sorts for any formal decision making." It turned and pointed to the crowds around, "Where we come from, all are represented and it is easy for all to be spoken for. We merely wish to have the ones speaking for your people present."

Plash Shree scratched his bare chin as he listened to the clicks and hisses that mimicked Muni speech perfectly. His eyes flickered pink as he blunk twice, "join us in the pools then, the body of Pax-Ra will speak to you."

The young Muni gestured with his hand and began walking back to the crowd, his spines and whiskers upright, vibrating softly at a rhythm shared by the onlookers own whiskers.

As Prash placed one foot into the bubbling water his skin flared with stimulated nerves and the woman he was paired with gave him a toothy smiles as they enterlocked hands, instantly reading each other with bliss faces.

Prash Shree turned back to the archnids as the woman clung tightly to him.

"Come, as a collective, we are the leader, and I am the voice. Speak to me as you would the representatives of your world," Prash clicked and sputtered with a quick acrobatic tongue.

"as you wish." The arachnid said before turning to its companions. "we, the Toff, on behalf of the Arnost Confederacy we come on a mission of peace. We seek out those that are willing to learn and grow. We have seen your advance beyond your home planet and even the easy acceptance of foreign cultures such as the Federation."

The Toff had spent a long time researching and investigating this new culture and had prepared gifts, new foods that were adjusted to be consumed by the Muni. It wasn't the best starting gift but the Toff knows the old phrase, the quickest way to a mans heart is through his belly.

"here, we offer trade in most things you could desire. We merely wish to teach and help your race rise to the galactic stage and maybe in some future, help others to greatness." The arachnid knew this would be alot to take in but one thing the Toff were notable for, aside their appearance, was how incredibly blunt they could be.

Chatters and clicks erupted among the small horde of Muni, some claiming they already reached perfection, while others humbily admitted the need for improvement. The swarm of Muni held each other hands as they spoke in quick floods of words, spewing entire speeches in seconds as their whiskers stood abrupt.

After the barrge of chitters finished, Plash Shree turned to the Toff. He nodded slowly, "We accept help, but are curious to what help you have to offer. Many claim we have reached perfection, a homeostasis of peace, an absolute balance. They claim interference will disrupt the balances, while others admit to the need for advancement. Advancement might improve our understanding of philosophies and compassion. How shall we advance? "

The female Muni clicked her tongue as she leaned over Plash, tickling his ear and forcing a smirk. Plash nodded, "Thousands of years gave way to our culture, and while accepting of others, we must tread carefully when it comes to such influences. Compassion and love comes first in all things."

If the Toff had facial features capable of showing happiness, this was indeed that moment. It spoke clearly, its intentions genuine and honest. "from the moment you encountered the Federation, you became a player in the galactic peoples ebb and flow. There is no returning from this path that has been laid out." It paused and turned away from the Muni then with one of its larger arms, it pointed to the sky.

"We offer protection from the outside influence should you wish but should you choose to accept our active presence, we offer something grander than anything else in this existence. To travel the stars, to explore new peoples and have an active voice in a far greater stage.. This gift we offer is precious beyond all measure."

It turned back to the Muni, "We offer you knowledge."

There was a clamoring of chatters and chips, but in the end, one final voice rang from the crowd of Muni, "we will accept your knowledge."

And so it rode the cosmic waves to a lifeless coalescence of carbon and iron, where the very belly of a once-planet had been shattered and cast from its birth to hang silently and slowly in the velvety darkness of the void. It had been to this place. Once. Long ago, perhaps millennia past, to extinguish the light of life that had grown there since his brothers and sisters had seeded upon it the necessary elements for its emergence and survival. It had disgusted the beast, artificial lives cropping up here and there, across every sector of the Galaxy and the next. Few had emerged of their own accord – and they were the ones who truly deserved to live. These fakes, these falsified excuses for life, these fraudulent lives deserved not to gaze upon the shimmering darkness as he. They were not worthy to experience the scintillation of the transient light of the universe. And so, through currents of quantum fluctuations he scoured every corner of every system, crushing before him those who would squabble and plead for their lives... Their worthless, pathetic lives.
They would not allow it. The Cephalrrior, the one true species amongst the stars, would not sit by idly and watch him return the Galaxy to its natural state. Instead, they insisted on chase. They insisted upon death. They would follow him to every site of glorious cleansing too late, and rue the losses that they wished to prevent.

'Brothers'. A humorous notion, indeed. Discord was without a doubt the sound of the universe, for harmony cannot be achieved in the presence of life. It was too chaotic, too hateful, too anguished, and too ephemeral. Only he was eternal. Only he would go on, to drift forever in silence, in the slow and harmonious pirouette of Galaxies and clusters and stars.

And so he was once again before this dead world. Leading his pursuing kind on a chase that would only lead to their demise. He drifted between the sparse collection of larger bodies, and sifted through the myriad of smaller ones. He waded through the thickness of dust and thinness of light from a distant star, its power siphoned from it by the remnants of the world, static in the void, dusty and dry. His heading was the massive body that had broken from the planet upon it's destruction, it was far vaster than he, and through it was bored a network of tunnels and interlinking channels through its porous mass. Within such a structure he could crawl and lay wait, biding time, preparing an ambush for the pursuers that would permanently end their petty chase. He landed upon the surface of the colossal asteroid first, fixing several small devices to it by drilling holes for their foundations and inserting them slowly. Around the asteroid he went, fixing a variety of devices upon it, their functions unusual and nearly undecipherable. He then dragged himself with his own titanic limbs across the very same rocky surface, crawling slowly into the network of tunnels and caves to hide within. To lay in waiting. Like an ambushing predator, he lingered, hidden from sight, ready to strike.

They would be there soon.

March 23rd, 2590
Haven System
The Haven System, once the most prosperous, and peaceful of the Powderkeg Systems, an unstable region of space in between the Union, the Aurolian Federation, the Terranis Empire, the Confederated States, and the Commonwealth. The Haven Republic was once a neutral zone for the Federation, Empire and the Union, who were in a continuous state of Cold War, a cold war that has been waging on for centuries.

Haven's troubles begun fifteen years ago, Human and Alien colonists were on the verge of civil war, but through the combined efforts of the usual three adversaries and one man, war had been stopped, for now that is.

For the moment, the Sector celebrated, the Superpowers were in awe of what had successfully occurred, Interstellar Media had dubbed this moment as the "Miracle of Haven", it's main orchestrator, a human by the name of Marcus Sadain was hailed a Hero, the Modern Gandhi of his time, the Powdekeg Peacemaker. Sadain even was soon elected to lead the Haven Republic. The next decade was one of calm peace, and little hostility under Sadain's leadership, that until he was assassinated.

The Unknown Assailants made no demands, no intentions, it came without warning and sudden and shortly after his assassination the Haven System fell into anarchy as number of Alien and Humans colonists were once again divided, Militia groups engaging in the streets of the Worlds of the Haven System.

The situation escalated as Federation, Union, and Imperial military task forces were sent in as the System plunged into Civil War. The Federation, protecting a Client State closely aligned to them, the Union, backing the slowly shrinking Human minority groups, and several Imperial Noble Houses of the Terranis Empire protecting their valuable financial investments.

The involvement of the Three Powers escalated the conflict, and soon became another front for their proxy wars. Ten years pass, and now the system is further divided, unrecognizable to what it once was. This conflict however, is unlike the others, for years the three powers fought indirectly, however this time, it is no longer the case.

Bright Horizon
For years Bright Horizon, among several other worlds, remained contested between the Three Powers and their proxies, below surface, Bright Horizon is a torn landscape, many of the once thriving cities now ruined warzones, burnt out husks of vehicles and corpses littering the streets, forests, grasslands, etc.

Falling debris from destroyed starships falling randomly to the planet below, a Garden world now in ruins. Now up high above, battle will be fought once again as the Three Powers engage in yet another skirmish for Orbital Superiority. A fleet of seventy Federation warships, at the center was an Defiant Heavy Cruiser, the AFS Titan, commanded by Admiral Kinsa herself. The fleet slowly cruised along the planet's orbit, approaching a designated Drop Point.

Currently a Federation strike force, the 701st Strike Battalion, was sent on a deep strike mission to weaken Union forces and establish a foothold in the Provisional Capital City of Sadain's Hope, deep into Union-held Territory in the region. However, the Battalion has encountered heavy resistance in the city, and while they have broken through and had secured a section of it, they are heavily outnumbered and face artillery bombardment and occasional full frontal assaults and had requested for reinforcements. And their ply for help has been answered.

AFS Titan, Command Bridge
Admiral Kinsa stood watching over a holographic display of Sadain's Hope on a wide table, the hologram was being streamed from the 701st's Forward Operations Base as to observe the current battle on the ground. She could see a small section of the city in bright green, indicating that being the 701st, while the rest of the city was red. "The situation's not looking good." She said to other officers observing the hologram. One, a Naasu Colonel, nodded in agreement. "They can't hold them off for long. I estimate they'd last for a few more days. The bastards are lucky we arrived in time." The Admiral nodded to the Naasu Colonel, turned and walked over to lay against the command chair. "We'll be in the Drop Point within the hour, I want all Marine and Army units aboard the Colossus and Argon to be ready for deployment by then, Colonel Weth. We can not afford to lose this opportunity the 701st have given us. This Offensive could very well turn the tide for this Front."

"Understood, ma'am, my forces will be ready then." He said while saluting to her, then turned and left. The Admiral's chair swiveled towards the Bridge Staff, as she observed them, she felt a bit of unease. For nearly two hours, there was no sign of Union ships, no resistance at all for a significant-sized fleet, one possible explanation of course is that Imperial forces may have entered orbit as well. But there's a real possibility that the fleet is heading right into a trap.

Of course, if a trap were set, the Admiral felt confident enough to repel such an attack if it came to it, although at the same time, they may very well won't survive if outnumbered. Although those thoughts and uncertainties were quite prophetic the alarms went off. "Admiral! We're detecting a large Union fleet on our course!" Soon the ship begun to shake violently as Union warships fired before they could even be seen. "Damn it!" She cried out. "Destroyer Squadrons 1 and 2! Return fire! All ships, protect the transports!"

From outside, the Federation Destroyers, organized into Squadrons of eight, aimed their main guns towards where the enemy last fired, and unleash a hail of graser bolts as their main forward batteries lit up. Enemy fire persisted, several frigates and an escort cruiser had already been decimated by the Union barrage. "

"Push forward! Don't let enemy destroy the transports!"

Amare, Federation Embassy
After yet another uneventful on the job. Ambassador Nakua, an member of the blue-skinned Janari, stepped into his room, and slamming onto his bed to finally get some much needed rest. Very much unlike yesterday, with the Confederates paying a visit to the Muni. To Nakua, it was rather odd they came so far, but no matter, for the time being, he could care less for at least once, that was until he heard an several ring tones coming to the left of him. A small device laying on a table, a holographic projector. The Ambassador sighed and proceeded to get up and answer the call. He pressed down on the flashing button as a small holographic display materialized, it was Admiral Argus Bradley. "Argus?" he asked his old friend. "I didn't exactly to expect a call from you of all people."

"Sorry Nakua, we'll have to skip the pleasantries and get on with a certain topic." Nakau groaned as he knew well what the Admiral meant.

"I'm sorry Argus." He said, once some years ago, they had a conversation regarding the Muni's potential as Special Forces Candidates, needles to say, he didn't agree."But you know I can't just go about and conscripting people who aren't even Federation citizens!"

"I know that...their natural talents however, are exactly what we are looking for in Special Forces Operatives. The War's been dragging on for a good while Nakua. They won't refuse."

".....fine. I'll get in contact with their leaders. I know they're friendly folk, but this is pushing it."

"I appreciate that Nakua, and I apologize, but we can not afford to not use valuable assets. Admiral Bradley, over and out." The hologram soon flickered off. Nakua let out a heavy sigh, but in a way, the Admiral was right, Muni hardly refuse offers, and their skills as Nocturnal Hunters would come in hand in battle, but to recruit them into a war they have no understanding of leaves an uneasy feeling in him. The Ambassador turned the device over as he pressed down a set of numbers to get into contact with the Muni heads.

The room of Plash Shree was as dark as the rest of the planet, with vines and ferns covering it’s walls and floors. The large circular portal into the abode was doorless as the smog rolled in unbarred, along with the occasional friendly chirp or click from a passerby. Plash himself laid face first in a bed of straws with the familiar female from the bath curled up next to him.

Their bodies heaved up and down as they breathed gently, their eyes slits and their minds dreaming. The occasional knock and bump would thud softly against the walls of Plash’s abode as its connecting cells were shared with other families, as was custom in the land of the Muni.

A sharp trill rang through the air, stimulating the whiskers of the two lovers. The two shot out of the makeshift bed, erupting the room in a shower of straw and colorful swirls of disrupted gasses and miasma. Their eyes scanned the room, and the only sound that challenged the trill was the sigh of Plash as he realized what was happening -- the trill was his phone, a gift from the Federation.

The Muni put his palm on the female, Pill Grii’s, forehead and she smiled in acknowledgement. He could feel her pulse slow back into a calm, and taste her anxiety dissipating.

With a soft smile against the eternal darkness of the night, Prash lifted his hand and reached out for the device, ending it’s alarm.

“Hello?” The Muni representative hissed at the small metallic device, attempting to hide his exhausted mumble with a lively accent.

“Ah, Good evening.” said the Ambassador. “I do apologize for this sudden call...but, I have a favor to ask of your people. If possible, I’d request to speak with the others as well.”

“Do you want me to call to the forum?” Plash questioned, as the four voices usually meet a forum where any and all may chime into the debate.

“Or is it personal.”

“It would be best, yes...in fact, It won’t be necessary for me to intend. You may speak of the favor for me among the Four.” The Ambassador was silent for but a brief moment before he resumed speaking. “The United Aurolian Federation, your friend and ally, is of need of help. For years we’ve struggled for a star system not far from Pax-Ra, and I have called you for a favor, would the Muni be willing to lend their best and brightest of their Hunters to aid us in this conflict?”

“You need help hunting?” Plash said surprised, he figured the large and very technologically advanced foreigners would be all set in that department.

“Of course we would help, I doubt we would turn away assisting our friends,” Plash said with his eyes trained on the approving nods of Pill Grii. Her arms wrapped around him as he tumbled the thought in his mind, seeing no way the compassionate Muni would challenge this cry for help. His nerves spiked with stimulation as her warm skin touched his and he leaned into her as he spoke into the mall device again, “I will call you as soon as we reach a verdict, but highly doubt there would be anything negative to report, so no need to hold your breath, friend.”

“Happy to hear it, the Federation thanks you.” Nakua said before shutting off the device. A heavy sense of guilt fell over him. “What the hell have I done….?” His eyes becoming blurry, tears slowly running down.“They don’t know war, never fought one in their history...I only pray they learn how to survive these new and bloody “hunting grounds”, or…” He rather not finish that sentence, and just wiped away the tears. “Argus, you old bastard.” he mumbled to himself. “This better be worth the lives.”

Plash struggled with the device, attempting to cut off it’s signal when he realized it was already shut off. His whiskers twitched as he received a small wave of feedback before it fell silent.

“Plash Shree,” Pill chimed, collecting the attention of the man.

“You should teach the men of the other worlds our compassion, join their hunt, and feed their children.”

Plash nodded at her clicks, “it is the proper way to respect our friendship, I will bring it to the others, and to all of Pax-ra.”

The man smiled, although he hadn’t hunted for quite some time, living the life of a forum voice. He can remember the joy of bringing sustenance to his family and friends and the gentle and tedious ceremony of respecting those that had to die for his hunger to be satisfied, may his food rest at ease. He will have to suffer the guilt of taking a life once more, but for the better of his friends family. Plash Shree squeezed the hand of Pill and she read his thoughts as she shared the same crossed face, yet the subtle pulsing excitement of strengthening friendships.

Sadain's Hope, 701st FOB

"Hostiles on advance!" A auru soldier shouted, firing from cover along with several humans and an aldzur.

"Come get some!" An ishkaaran soldier shouted, firing a heavy machine gun towards the charging Union Partisans. "I can do this all day assholes!" He continued unloading lead on the Militiamen until he heard several clicking sounds. "Reload!" He yelled, but before he got the chance, he was pulled down. "Masu! get in cover you crazy idiot!" shouted the human next to him, pulling him down with all his might behind the safety of the makeshift walls they set up. "You're a sniper's magnet!" he shouted over the gunfire. Masu simply smiled, "Hah! Come on sarge, ain't nothing that can stop me!"

The Sergeant frowned to the over confident ishkaran. "You're no good dead to the Squad, soldier." He replied as he placed two fingers over the right side of his head. "Control, this is Echo One, we're facing some heavy fire here, requesting some backup ASAP." A response came as a feminine voice replied. "Roger that Echo One, we're sending an Armadillo Tank on your way."

"Much appreciated Control." The Sergeant then turned is gaze back to a Naasu as he tinkered with a power generator, pressing down keys. "How are those Auto Turrets Sull?"

"I'm working as fast as possible sarge!" He replied, frantically trying to turn the generator on. "You stupid piece of crap! Turn on damn you!" He kept shouting at the generator as it refused to power the auto guns that help protect the base's left flank. He then resorted to smashing it in frustration, however, in his recklessness he was out in the open briefly, and was shot in the arm. "Gah!" he yelped, falling to the ground in agony. "Medic!" The Sergeant cried out, and without delay an Auru woman rushed over and dragged the injured Sull away into cover. The sergeant proceeded to fire blindly at the Partisans, and before they knew it, a Militia Light Tank, a left over of the former Haven Military, crashed through, aimed at the defenders and ready to fire it's main gun. "Ah shit.." the sergeant said, and right before his eyes, the tank exploded, forcing the Militia to scatter.

From the right, An Armadillo Tank variant came crashing in as well, right between the weakened defenders and locals. An Auxilia-class infantry drone emerged from the roof of the vehicle, manning the machine gun turret as it opened fire on the scattered Militiamen. The doors on the side slide open as a dozen more drones rushed out of the armored car, one of them approaching the sergeant. "Sgt. Mike Zaamil." It droned. "We have been ordered to cover your retreat."

"Your timing is just perfect." Zaamil complimented. "Echo Squad! Fall back to the gate! The Toasters will cover us!" And with that, they all complied as they slowly fell back to the gate as they brought in the wounded, however, they unfortunately had to leave several others behind, those that were killed in earlier moments of the skirmish. Before long all the remaining Echos reached the other side, the large doors sliding closed.

Command and Operations Center
In the center of this ramshackled base, Captain Itinus Kosh of the 701st Strike Battalion and several others watched over a holo-display of the battlefield, three platoons-worth of men, equipment and drones were struggling across several locations around the district they controlled, a few squads such as Echo were left to guard the base in case of Union flank attacks that occurred not too long ago. The room begun to tremor, dirt and dust falling as they were being shelled by Union artillery.

"Damn it, they got us cornered, their getting serious this time." The Captain said as he glued his eyes to the battlefield, Union forces making a slow advance in great numbers. He turned to his Second in Command, a fellow Janari. "Any word on those reinforcements?"

"Yes, sir." He replied. "Colonel Weth has informed me that they will reach the Drop Point within the hour." The Captain smirked with the news. "I'd say that's good enough. Once those reinforcements arrive, we'll begin the operation in taking the rest of the city off the hands of these Unionite bastards."

//Attention, this is declaration of non-hostility. These constructs are merely scouting the region and seek discourse with the controlling parties of the region. This construct represents a large conglomeration of worlds held in the name of the Synchronicity of Amnos, the Over-Mind and keeper of the Most Perfect Equation. Should non-hostile negotiations be your intent, all that need be done is reply to this message with that intent expressed. If a reply has not been received in the time it takes for the first planet of this system to complete a single orbit, then these constructs will take their leave. We warn you, however, if you commit hostile actions against these constructs, consequences will be dire//

---

“What the hell is happening, give me something lieutenant!” Captain Kao Qiang shouted as he sprinted down the ships corridor, crew shuffling aside to let him through. He had be woken in the middle of his sleep by the emergency alert alarms blazing away across the ship. Still wearing sleeping robes and a pair of slippers, he looked like a half-dead oldman who was living out his final years in a retirement home.

“Sir, a fleet of unidentified vessels of unknown make or class has entered the system, ninety vessels currently marked, the extranet is being bombarded with that message we picked up. It, uh, seems the fleet is communicating with us” A voice spoke through the upper walls of the corridor, transmitted from the bridge. Captain Kao had reached the bridge elevator now and was heading up.

“Sir, I think this might be a… first contact scenario, sir” The lieutenant's voice continued nervously. Qiang wasn’t liking this, not one bit. Either way he looked at this, it was a lose-lose scenario.

“Call for backup and start getting the merchant ships to fall back behind the planet as cover, this is likely the Federation or Empire pulling its usual bullshit”. Qiang spoke with cynical anticipation grown from decades of living through the seemingly never-ending cold war between the superstates.

“They… fake first contact transmissions? Isn’t that illegal?” The lieutenant asked absentmindedly, a young and naive mind the poor sap possessed.

“Tell that to the graves of the 140,000 lost souls at the battle of the Hera System. The “Hegemony of Azrthasphan” sure was a first contact alright” Qiang spat with caustic sarcasm. “Commander Brown, bring up shields now please” Qiang spoke again, his voice in the bridge now amplified near the commanders seat. Just as he finished speak, the elevator doors opened and Captain Kao was on the bridge too. The darkened bridge was in full alarm mode, with orange blipping lights and all. ‘Calmest region in the border colonies’ they said. Why is it no one in the Union navy ever gets a peaceful retirement? he wondered.

“Captain, the rest of the Jiang defence fleet is converging on our position. The UHS High Spirits has taken up position in front of us. We also have a, uh, single merchant ship that has apparently volunteered itself for battle” The lieutenant informed him, reading through messages rapidly.

“What?” Qiang asked, somewhat surprised that a lowly merchant was volunteering itself for essentially a suicide mission, perhaps they were after a position in being a mentioned footnote in history? he thought.

“The merchant ship is apparently a Spacer Q-Ship sir… and, uh, have already started rushing forward to-” The lieutenant spoke before being cut off by an outburst from the captain.

“Idiots! send a hail out, god damn it they just ran in” Qiang barked.

“...”

“...”

“They aren’t responding sir” the Lieutenant finally spoke. Qiang sighed.

“Sir, they are, ah, umm, this… they, they, are hailing the enemy fleet sir” The lieutenant was now just stuttering.

“...” Qiang was not saying anything and remained completely still. The entire bridge went silent for a long, long five minutes as the fleet of twenty Union colonial ships faced off against the heat signals of ninety incoming unknown vessels.

Suddenly, a segment of the bridge main viewing screen was covered by a video screen showing the Spacer captain and bridge.

“The merchant vessel responded to our hails sir” the Lieutenant spoke quietly, no longer of any more use.

The merchant captain, being one of those abhuman’s who lived their entire lives in space wore their iconic cultural attire of complete body covering jumpsuit, robes and gasmask. Qiang assumed she (He figured it was a she) was going to reveal her sudden change of loyalties…

“Captain Kao, that fleet we are about to engage, I think you should open hails with it… or even take a probe scan of the fleet instead of just a heat scan. I think you might find the information a little important”. The Spacer captain stated.

After five minutes of taking physical scans of the incoming fleet, it became increasingly apparent that they were genuinely partaking in a first contact, or at least communicating with a fleet of people who had odd design tastes. The ships were obviously not Federal or Imperial, unless either of them took to a sudden and total redesigning of their fleet within the last few days.

Qiang sighed. Now he almost prefered it had been a fleet of Federal or Imperial ships launching a surprise attack on a far distant colony of the Union.

“Open up a hail”. Qiang muttered.

“Hail open, sir” The Communications officer announced.

“Greetings alien lifeform. I, Captain Kao Qiang of the Jiang Defence Fleet represent the United Supranational Union of Humanity and the Human species as a whole. Should your fleet act in accordance with universally recognized international customs and regulations concerning appropriate conduct during first contact, we will accept your entry into the sovereign territory of the Union and begin communications. As I am a military officer and not a dignitary or government official, it is not within my capacity to sign treaties or official statements, I am also incapable of taking aggressive action against any enemies you may, may not have or trade goods that are not registered by the Union’s contraband laws or---”

Qiang was stopped just before finishing the official first contact procedure when he realized he was looking straight at, well, a human woman.

“You’re human”. Qiang stated bluntly, only just realizing that apparently he had been duped after all. God damn, the Empire or Federation were really getting desperate with new ship designs. After a short pause, Qiang spoke again.

“So, I assume this is the part where you reveal you’re secretly an Imperial or Federal and launch an invasion of this system right?” Qiang asked, leaving the question hanging in the air, waiting for the woman’s response.

=============================================================
SUMMARY:
-First contact between Sync and Union

The hum of generators vibrated down the attentive whiskers of Plash Shree as he sat upright against the cold metal wall of the transport ship. He was draped in loose fitting clothes provided by the federation along with seventy other Muni hunters. The trip was long in comparison to the short debate the choice to even come to the aid of the federation. The four voices debated quickly in the forums, cheered and jeered by various individuals, until finally all agreed it was only compassionate to help the federation on their hunt.

Now here they were, seventy one fit and abled Muni, ready to track down and hunt for the federation. The Federalists were vague whenever the conversation of the prey came about, and some even seemed to chuckled when the Muni started talking about rituals for the dead prey and feeding the children. If Plash decided to scry these responses deeper he would probably come to understand the giant misunderstanding that this entire endeavor was, either way, Plash already knew that this was definitely going to be interesting.

He tossed aside the uncertainty of the actual scenario and focused on the lingering touch from Pill Grii, the one who was the most excited to contact the Federation and share the Muni ideals with. A deep knot tied itself in Plash’s stomach however, as something seemed to nag at him and prevent him to enjoy the same optimism as his lover.

His thoughts were disrupted from a booming voice from the intercom. “All personnel, prepare for Pod Drop. Approaching Drop Point.” An Auru Marine Officer approached the waiting Muni. “Sir, the Drop Pods are prepped and ready for you and the Hunters.” He then turned around to lead the group.

Plash looked past the Marine at the small portaled doors on the wall, leading to the aforementioned pods. The Muni looked at the marine, his dark jet eyes hiding behind sunglasses, as to keep the light from his sensitive eyes.

“So I just walk in there or how does this work?”

“Correct. You just step in and we’ll launch you to the planet below. It’s safe and-” The Officer was interrupted suddenly as the ship begun to violently tremble and shake. “Red alert! red alert! The [i]Liberty[i/] is under attack!”
“Shit, they saw us coming.” He turned his attention to the Muni. “Quickly, get to the Pods!”

Plash went to open his mouth in contest but his legs had other things in mind as he shot behind one of the open doors with inhuman speed, quickly followed by the others who shook with stimulation from the vibrations and trembles. Shadows of their eyes shooting back and forth could be made out behind the glasses as their lungs inflated and felt light without the presence of the heavy smog of Pax-Ra, the extra oxygen invigorated their frightened bodies as adrenaline rushed through their veins, peaking as a loud bang rang in deafening explosion of sound.

Over a Dozen pods had launched from beneath the Transport Vessel, from what they could see, the Muni saw below them a blue orb of a world, one very unlike their home of Pax-Ra, and although distant, they saw the vessel that carried them through the trip under assault from beams of light, as Union ships were on fast approach.

The pods quickly fell into turbulence, flaring the nerves of the Muni. The pods rattled like crazy as it trekked through the atmosphere as fireballs. The surface of the world replaced the flashes of fire as the landscape quickly grew closer to them. Plash could see a few pods before him glow blue on the bottom, slowing its descent for landing. As his own pod tugged and stalled he assumed his own was going the same. He could feel not only his own heart pounding like a hammer in his throat and ears but the collective hearts of the others on board his pod.

There was a sudden whir and a loud bang. The pod stated to twist and spiral out of control as it rocketed into a cityscape. The Muni grit his teeth as he was launched from his seat and against the wall. Suddenly a tremendous boom whipped the entire pod around as it grazed the rocky eave of a tall building, sending the vessel sideways into the pavement below.

Plash saw blackness behind his eyelids as he laid still on his side in the pod. A few groans slapped him back into consciousness along with the burning pain of his shoulder. His eyes flickered behind his lids, trying to adjust the beams of sunlight blaring into the pod. He leaned up, observing his fellows recover from the crash unharmed through his squinting eyes.

He traced his fingers around the frame of his sunglasse that laid beside him. Broken. He moaned at the discomfort and stood up, deciding it was about time he got used to the brightness of the world, and clean air. His shoulder protested in anguish as he used his arm to prop himself against the door, only to have it woosh open and throw his unbalanced pose out of the pod.

He landed in fresh ash, baked from the sun. The Muni’s skin crawled as the nerves protested against the sunlight and heated ground. Plash shot from the ground, holding his shoulder with his right arm, rubbing the bone and thick lean muscle. His eyes could make out the rest of his hunters emerging from safely landed pods, as well as the ragged survivors of his own seemingly unscathed lopsided vessel that.

From all over, they heard the unsettling sounds of gunfire and loud booms, from above they see a pair of aircraft zoom right past over them.

Plash started to wonder if it was a mistake to get out of the pod. As the tremors of explosions shook his whiskers, he then began to wonder, was it a mistake to even come.

A stray comment whispered from one of the Muni, but they all heard it, and knew they were all thinking it, “What in love’s name are we hunting.”

They soon hear a rumbling, something big was on its way. From the rubble came a crashing in a large armored vehicle, a Federation APC. A human soldier stepped out from the side door of the vehicle to find the frightened Muni. “Don’t tell me these are the reinforcements..” He said to himself and the other behind him.

“Nah.” Replied the Sergeant behind him. “They’re something different. Colonel told us we’d have some new assets arriving before.” He paused a moment as he attempt to contact the FOB. “Control, some early reinforcements have arrived, they’re gonna need a ride.”

“Afraid I can’t do that Zeta One.” the feminine voice replied. “Things are tied up all to hell back here, you’re gonna have to escort them on foot.”

“Great..” He mumbled to himself, turning to face the squad still waiting in the back. “Change of plans ladies and gents, we’re to accompany the Muni to the Base, need everyone out for the long haul.” A series of loud groans followed. He stepped out to meet with the Muni face to face. “Stick with us and we’ll get you through this alive.”

Plash clicked his tongue as the seventy Muni bunched up behind him, a similar fear swept through them, the kind like on Pax-Ra when one of the great carnivorous beasts of the forest floor managed to corner one of them.

Without protest, or even thinking of questioning the man before him, Plash blinked in understanding and called for his friends to follow him. He didn’t care where to, and his group didn’t either, he could taste it their thoughts and emotions over the dense bitterness of the environment, they just wanted to get out of this hell trap.

The only calm that kissed the Muni’s mind was the memories of his lover silky skin and the caress of the miasma in his home. He forced these thoughts to stay in his mind as the great vehicle began grinding down the road, with the Muni in trail.

He could sense it in his skin, the disgruntled men who found them, the aura of death and destruction, the lack of compassion. Worst of all he could taste the despair and anger like bitter soot on his tongue. His pores pricked him and his nostrils burned, this was going to be a long hunt.

For nearly an hour the Muni and Federation Squad traversed the ruined cityscape, trying to find their way around the rubble and wreckage. It seemed they would never found the correct path to the base, hope seemed very dim for the soldiers, it wouldn’t help that they soon came under fire from enemy snipers, as one of the point men suddenly collapsed onto the ground, his fellows rushing to his aide to discover a wide hole in his forehead. “Sniper!” One shouted, before he too fell following another loud bang from a sniper rifle. “Take cover!”

The Muni scattered, confused at what was going on, a few even froze still, used to the cover of eternal darkness. Others questioned vocally, unsure of what was happening and concerned at the sudden deaths. Plash clicked and sputtered above the sound of the mess while the sniper shots still rang in the back of his head.

Eventually the Muni ears pricked at Plash’s voice and they quickly dove and scurried into all sorts of cover. The idea of a lead hunter always seemed to have a certain effect on the hunters as the great hive mind like social structure was reborn. Plash himself dove under the vehicle, squeezing between the undercarrage and the gravel. The musky scent of the ground the vehicle emission relaxed him as his eyes widened in the cool darkness.

“If only the rest of this world was like this,” he complained while his mind raced with ideas about what to do.

His family was in trouble, humans were dropping dead. This whole world was saturated with this gross meaningless death, and he had no idea why. He did however know that he needed to keep his family hunters safe, just as on Pax-Ra when a few would stumble upon creatures of the abyss unknowingly. He had to surrender a piece of his compassion for the life of his family, a sacred act.

He hummed silently to himself, and his whiskers ticked him as he felt the humming of the other Muni as they prayed for forgiveness. The hunt had began.

The humming grew in intensity, slowly forming into one monotone. Another shot rang through the air and a body hit the ground, a few sprays were shot back in retribution.

Plash closed his eyes from the light of this world and entered his cool, dark mind, the mind of the predator. Another shot rang through the air, but his ear also heard a pang hit the cement floor of a building in the far distance. A swarm of clicks concluded the others heard it too.

Like lightning the horde of Muni rushed from their cover, scattering left and right, their eyes closed and sharp transcendent teeth bared in the sunlight. A shot rang out but missed hitting anything of importance.

The silent predators swarmed at inhuman speeds, as blurred pale figures. The blurry bodies leapt and slammed against the walls of a tall building. Powerful limbs and piercing claws shot the nocturnal creatures up the steep stone, digging their hold into the plaster between bricks. A shot rang out and a smashed face of a Muni fell to the street below. With little recognition the adrenaline powered beasts flooded into the open windows of the building.

Plash could only see pink behind his lids, but he could feel the entire building. Every Muni, every piece of scattered furniture, down to every pebble. He smelt it, the discharge, much like the sulfur of Pax-Ra, and the fear of the prey.

In a blurred motion he flew through the air, clicking madly as other Muni rushed with him. Their claws found the body of a surprised human holding a rifle. The sniper was thrown to the wall where a wave of claws and teeth pierced and ripped at his major arteries. No scream was sounded as the man’s bones snapped under the immense pressure, and no struggle was made as his body was quickly drained of it’s life sustaining blood. Soon there was only the soft hum of the Muni, as they prayed and sent their love to the mess of flesh that laid before them and those that were lost.

The shots stopped, the soldiers emerged from their hiding spots as they saw no muni in sight, only to suddenly be surprised as the Muni emerged from one of the buildings, all signs point to them killing the Sniper. “Holy shit.” The sergeant muttered. “They got the bastard.”

“Sarge, suddenly I feel more safer around them.”

It was a strange moment, it would be one of victory and cheer, but they stare down the ground, several of their comrades no lying dead. “Jesus…” One muttered to himself. “We’re not gonna make it...are we sarge?”

Before he could even open his mouth, more loud booms could be heard, but these were something different. All the surviving soldiers looked to to cheer awe, something very inspirational. From high above, dozens of drop pods came raining down over the city, followed by several large landing craft, and lastly, a wing of javelin bombers came soaring through the skies, unleashing their devastating load onto the enemy, the reinforcements finally arrived. This was cause for true celebration, even if they were still outnumbered, their own numbers were replenished, and they had a slight chance in taking the capital city.