Life knows no bounds of diversity. From the simplest worm in the ground to the grandest king on his throne, all has it's appointed time: it's beginning and it's end. But, no matter the lowliness or exultation of life... it all burns with a single, unified flame. This same flame that makes a wolf hunt and a deer run makes an artist paint and a couple love.

That Flame now burned in the heart of a Xim clone, as it took its first rasping breaths in this cruel world. Only an infant, it had no knowledge of the life that would await it- to be of the strongest, fastest, heartiest race, yet to never exceed beyond the role of "servant"- for that was its duty in life, appointed by those who created it to be the perfect servant, yet nothing more.

Immeasurably far away, the Flame resided, too, in the Meritoc of Kalakis, who stared out from an black-trimmed window. The sanguine skies of his homeworld mirrored the red blood of a human- how well fitting its purpose here. The Federation did not yet accept it, but the Xim never truly desired peace with them. Only the democratic fools, who value complacency over survival, would believe such error. This was not a time of cooperation. This was a time of the calm before the storm. And when that storm came, as the the Meritoc knew, it would wash humanity's blemishes clean from the face of existence.

And finally, the Flame of life sheltered in the soul of Rala the Kaldemor-Xim, a walking experiment gone astray who, unbeknownst to her, was destined to redefine what life meant, both to herself and her people...

---

Within a Flow-class Striker positioned strategically on the Federation-Xim border, a fanatical young pilot sat watching, with fingers itching to fire, as Federation ships passed by. They had not violated the territory, but oh how the pilot wished they had! Just a quick signal from its ship, and thousands of XimWorms would swarm the unfocused humans, confusing their sensors and burrowing into their hull, then soon their flesh. Its hand went to the controls, only moments away from reigniting the war...

"Pilot 129-934-417-ADO," a static flooded voice crackled out from the speakers in front of the pilot, "your psychological exams have come back negative. You are unassigned from border patrol. Report to the Kalakis Spacestation 'Firefall' for relocation and reassignment." It was being reassigned, it wasn't 'mentally fit' for border duty! The pilot's small body shook with a much larger rage, but it found only the words "Yes, Commander" leaving its mouth.

Before reluctantly loading up on the Mothership for a one-way trip back to Firefall Station, it chanced a last hateful glance at the human vessels who dared to draw so close to the Xim Initiative. One day, it prayed, one day soon, the Xim will have their vengeance.

Humanity will become Xim.

The slaves have been quelled, the prey no longer stood against the predatory beasts that were the X'Cor. The fall of the rebellion had only solidified the X'Corian strength within their empire as all feared that they would become targets to the War Fleet. However, there were still those who sought to go against the rule of the X'Cor by other means, illegal means that the every being would be persecuted for. A Black Market stood as a beacon of hope to those who wished for a better life than to be ruled by the beasts who were called the X'Cor.

However, a loyal slave had tipped off local X'Corian authorities to the black market and they had informed the War fleet to mobilize to the D'Vor system, the first system that had gone into rebellion against the X'Cor. The loyal slave knew what this meant for all who were at the Black Market. It was something that he would have to live with for the rest of his life, betraying his friends. Soon the fleet of cruisers warped into the system, Hercules fighters began to stream out of their respective ships. Five terror worms were sent down to deal with any survivors.

Death was on its way.

---

"That'll be five-hundred creds, can't go any lower," a tall green humanoid said, leaning over the counter to speak with a much shorter quadruped who looked down sadly and began to wander away. The next person in line walked up, a reptilian man with six legs, each foot containing an opposable thumb of sorts. However, a screeching sound was gradually getting closer, everyone looked into the air. "What is that noise?," the tall man asked, then it dawned upon him.

Screech

It was the sound of the ion engines that the Hercules fighters used. The mere noise sent everybody scattering for cover, some going for old weapons to meet any X'Cor on the ground.

The tall man pulled down shutters, ducking behind his counter in an attempt to protect himself. Soon the sounds of death filled the outside, screams of the innocent, the ion engines, and the men who would try to protect the others. However, another sound had arrived.

Doom

A terror worm that was flying into the ground, coming back out of it, and back into the ground in order to terrify their enemies. One smashed through the shop of the tall man before it came to a complete stop. A single side of the mechanical monster opened, letting loose the X'Corian Warriors within it. He closed his eyes and made peace with himself.

R'toom

---

Oin, the more peaceful of his race, watched the map of the X'Cor empire and noted several spots that he had attacked when he was just like anyone else, haunting him. "Dark are the times within in the galaxy, though no reason to accept it," the X'Cor said to himself before turning to the crew. It was time to depart and head out.

The ship was ordered to warp to the nearest dock, Star Dock Zior, in order to fully restock on supplies before they would begin their exploration task. Though, Oin was still stuck on the ship as he had a call from Ssirek, the Empress, to fully detail his orders.

"Remember, if you find any primitive civilizations, make contact and get them to become slaves under the Empire. If they do not submit then do not hesitate to make an example out of any amount of them," Ssirek commanded, a stressed tone coming to her. "As you say my Empress, the X'Cor Empire shall grow and gain more slave. Do not fear, only find that we will only learn more about this galaxy that we inhabit," Oin commented before the conference was ended.

With a sigh, Oin looked out of the window of the bridge to see the great expanse that was space. So many secrets lay in the beyond, so many new worlds to discover.

More violence to be had.

Star System Mirodin
Valerian Republican Navy Supply Depot

No annexation ever went flawlessly, Admiral Lord Sir Adison Volkov, Count Mornington, Knight-Companion of the Order of King Nicholas, Commanding Officer 5th fleet, thought to himself as his flagship shuddered. The Valerian Republic had seemed willing, even eager, to join the Imperial Systems Commonwealth six weeks ago. Or at least, their government had. Events since the annexation had proved that sentiment was far from universal.

The annexation had started off well enough. The Valerian Republic was an 8 system nation that had watched for years as the Commonwealth swallowed its weaker neighbors one by one. About a year ago, some foresighted individuals in the Republican government had decided to actively seek membership in the Commonwealth, rather than wait to be gobbled up. It had actually turned out to be a very good idea. Using their sophisticated technological base --most notably their AI systems and cybernetics-- as a bargaining chip, the Valerian Republic managed to get themselves a very nice deal. Rather than go through years of exploitation and oppression as colonial territories, the worlds of the Republic were being directly integrated as full members. Their government was to remain intact, and they had even been permitted to retain their military (at a significantly reduced budget) as a local defence force. The plebiscite the Republic had gone through showed about 70% of its population was in favor of annexation. That was actually surprisingly high; nobody had expected every Valerian to greet the commonwealth with open arms, so there was bound to be some opposition.

What the Commonwealth had not been prepared for was how highly placed that opposition was, or the kind of resources they had access to. Two days after the Valerian Republic officially joined the Commonwealth, a number of their most prominent generals and admirals had seized control of some 80% of the military and attempted to seize control of the Republic. Adison shuddered to think what might have happened if they’d succeeded; the months of gruelling, grinding warfare against an entrenched enemy, the loss of civilian lives, the PR disaster back home…

Luckily, the usurpers had hit too hard, a common mistake with military coups in Adison’s experience. The coup had been focused on the Republic’s capital, Valeria, and it had been brutal. Evidently the usurpers had quickly seized control of Valeria’s orbitals, spaceports, and major military installations, but had encountered stiff resistance at the Senate building. Loyal soldiers had dug in to defend their duly elected government, and for three days the usurpers had tried and failed to break their defences. Eventually, the usurpers had gotten frustrated, and opted to wipe out the Senate from orbit. Adison couldn’t help but shake his head at their folly. The population in general had initially been in favor of the annexation, but if the usurpers had played their hand right, they could have swung public opinion in their favor. Some fabricated evidence and a few show trials for captured senators would have exposed the ‘conspiracy’ behind the annexation plebiscite. But by killing the senators, especially with such excessive force, the usurpers had firmly set the public against them. Six days later, Adison Volkov’s 5th fleet, the Commonwealth’s most famous and successful offensive unit, had descended on Valeria like Llyena’s Spear. When they arrived, they were greeted like liberating heroes rather than foreign invaders, thanks to the excesses of the coup.

Unfortunately, whoever was in charge of the coup was a lot better at strategy than public relations. Only minutes after Adison’s fleet dropped out of FTL, the usurper commander had recognized he couldn’t stand up to that kind of firepower and gone into full retreat. Valeria had been liberated in a day, but the usurper withdrawal had forced Adison to disperse his forces in an effort to track them down. He’d spent four weeks doing exactly that, and it had proved to be an interesting challenge. That Valerian Republican Navy had a noticeable tech advantage over the Royal Commonwealth Navy, which equated to better sensors and superior stealth systems. But that advantage was not nearly enough to offset the RCN’s awesome warfighting capability. At the end of the day, Commonwealth ships were tougher and hit harder, and their officer corps was infinitely more capable. The VRN had fought well, using hit and run tactics to assault isolated elements of 27th fleet. Adison had tried to avoid overstretching his forces in anticipation of such a tactic, but ultimately he had to defend all eight Valerian systems, while the usurpers were free to run off to remote bases and strike at will. Adison knew that fighting a purely defensive war in unfamiliar territory was a losing proposition, so he’d scrambled to take the initiative. He’d ultimately decided to split the 5th fleet into multiple elements: all eight systems were guarded by minimal picket forces. Four large forces were concentrated at designated node systems, ready to respond to any attack. Meanwhile, Adison took his flagship and a select few of his heaviest combat units, along with a token cruiser escort, on the offensive. Using intelligence from VRN records and captured usurper ships, he’d designated a number of likely targets and gone out to attack them. The offensive had two main objectives. First was to make the usurpers worry about where he might hit them, instead of letting them plan where to hit him. Second was for Adison to use his own illustrious persona to draw the usurpers into attacking his task force. It was a bit of a gamble, but it was far more likely to force the usurpers into a decisive engagement than any other option. The usurpers couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try to kill him and deal a huge blow to the Commonwealth’s image, and his flagship’s stripped down entourage provided the perfect chance for them to try it. It was a significant risk, but Adison had down-to-the-bolts specifications on the capabilities and tactics of the VRN ships (courtesy of the remnants of the Senate), while the VRN had nothing but hearsay and secondhand sensor footage of a Commonwealth wall of battle. In a pitched battle, the Commonwealth’s greatest fleet commander was confident enough in the capabilities of his own fleet to put his life on the line.

Adison’s plan had worked out exactly as he’d hoped. He’d established a clear pattern in his attacks, forcing the usurpers into the same position he’d begun the conflict with. They’d done exactly what a competent but tactically inflexible commander might do: establish a defensive perimeter and hope to catch their opponent in a trap. Sure enough, not ten minutes after Adison’s flagship dropped out of FTL to attack a VRN supply base near Mirodin, the remnants of the VRN fleet came rushing in out of warp in a classic pincer maneuver. And so, here he was, on the flag bridge of the CSC Praetoria, getting blasted by the majority of the VRN with only a few dozen battleships and barely a hundred cruisers between them. Adison stared intensely at the master display holo-sphere, absorbing the myriad of blue and orange dots. Adison’s own ships were tidily arranged into a standard RCN formation. His flagship and battleships were closely packed into a literal wall of battle, while his few cruisers flew in tight screening formations. Fighters weaved in and out of the formation, carefully staying out of their motherships firing solutions. Those firing solutions had gone to full defensive not a second after the VRN usurpers sprang their ambush; countless shells exploded into flak and EM bursts in a neat bubble around the Commonwealth ships, repelling missiles and energy weapons alike. The VRN ships were arranged on either side of Adison’s formation, trying to catch him in a deadly crossfire. His only criticism of the opposing commander’s maneuvers was that he was being too cautious. Facing an opponent who’s capabilities he did not fully understand, the enemy commander had opted to spring his ambush at extreme ranges, giving himself the ample time to assess the situation and the capabilities of the Commonwealth ships. Adison understood the logic, but given the energy-heavy armament of VRN ships and their decidedly average missile capabilities, engaging at such a huge range was a mistake.

The Praetoria rumbled slightly as a Valerian meson beam struck its shields. At these ranges, the destructive potential of energy weapons was virtually gone by the time they hit their targets. Still, it made Adison frown. “Give me about 5% more anti-beam charges in the starboard flak shell,” he ordered briskly to his ops officer. In response to his command, the frequency of EM flashes to starboard increased ever so slightly. Adison looked over to his chief of staff, Captain Maria Anisimovna. “Masha, let’s go to fireplan echo-two. Targets at CIC’s discretion” he said thoughtfully. “Aye sir, going to echo-two, targets at CIC discretion,” the staff officer replied stiffly, then, with a small smile, added “I think they’ll be needing a few extra pairs of pants over there in a minute, sir.”

Every missile launcher on every Commonwealth ship went to full rapid fire mode, spitting a missile into space every ten seconds. But the missiles stayed inactive, coasting along at low speeds with only the momentum from their launchers carrying them forwards. At the same time, multiple squadrons of dive bombers--little more than cockpits and weapons on giant IDC engines--began to launch and carefully maintain position inside the flak shell.

Sixty seconds later, all hell broke loose. The impenetrable shell of flak dissipated for a moment, and literally thousands of missiles exploded outwards. Alarms wailed on Valerian ships as their computers were overwhelmed by the huge number of threat signatures barrelling down on them.

As they raced out towards their targets, the missiles shifted slightly into two closely knit waves. As the first wave approached, a selection of ECM missiles went to full power, spewing false signals and jamming Valerian targetting sensors. A few of missiles were felled by point defence, but the majority broke through and tore through Valerian shields with bright ion flashes. The second wave followed scant seconds later, unleashing a storm of plasma that melted through armoured hulls with ease.

The divebombers were right on the tail of the missile barrage, and they screamed into the Valerian ranks with their engines at full power, launched their payloads of antimatter torpedoes, and were gone well before the cataclysmic explosions began.

The Valerian order of battle was shattered. The confused, haphazard response of the remaining ships told Adison he’d likely taken out their commander, and it was taking them time to reestablish the chain of command. With any luck, the fleet commander had been the unknown leader of the coup, though Adison wasn’t counting on it. With a few brisk orders, his own ships began cleaning up the mess, sweeping out with gamma lasers and unleashing the full offensive firepower of their railguns. The remaining Valerian ships put up little resistance, and Adison couldn’t help but feel a little smug. He’d broken the resistance’s back, and it wouldn’t be long until they were crushed completely.

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


Aldasia City
Corinthene

Sir Robert Castlereagh, Baron Katyusha, Knight Indomitus of the order of St. Diae, and Minister of Foreign Affairs for Her Imperial Majesty's Government sat on a terrace high in the sky of Corinthene’s capital city. Ademnon was a very popular restaurant mid way up one of the city’s towering skyscrapers, and while it was pleasant enough, like everything on Corinthene it was too...shiny. Even after nearly five hundred years as the capital of the Commonwealth, Corinthene continued to feel too new for Castlereagh’s tastes. It lacked anything resembling the Old Quarter in Brandenburg, Praetoria’s capital city and seat of the Imperial Crown. This was because the Rhodesians simply didn’t permit anything to become old on their ancestral homeworld. In their unending quest to maintain maximum efficiency, any structure remotely past its prime was promptly torn down and replaced with something newer. All this newness meant the capital lacked the character of some of the Commonwealth’s other prominent worlds

Perhaps summoned by his ruminations on Rhodesian psychology, Castlereagh’s lunch companion arrived. “Thank you for coming, Cato,” Castlereagh said graciously as he shook hands with his guest. It was typically considered polite to stand and greet one’s guest, but to stand when greeting a Rhodesian only exaggerated their comically small stature, so Castlereagh remained seated.
“Thank you for inviting me, Robert,” the diminutive Rhodesian replied as he took his specially made seat. The chair was specially designed to accommodate Rhodesians; any decent Core World restaurant made a point of having several on hand. It had a short back and a powered seat, so that Rhodesians could seat themselves and automatically be elevated closer to eye level with their table-mates.

Sir Cato Telemachus, Knight of the order of St. Diae, Marquis of Polesia, was one of the rare few Rhodesians who’d made the transfer from the bureaucracy to the political world and been successful. He was currently the Minister of the Interior, a position with far more power than the name suggested.Telemachus’ ministry was responsible for monitoring and maintaining the integrity of the realm, a thankless task with little reward. However, the Ministry of the Interior also controlled the Office of Colonial Affairs, which gave Cato Telemachus rather vaguely defined control over the administration of the colonies. Additionally, since the colonies were a responsibility of the crown, Telemachus’ position brought him into frequent contact with Her Imperial Majesty and her court. He and Castlereagh were close personal friends, but it was business that brought them together today.

“Of course. Now, as they say, business before pleasure,” Castlereagh said, tapping a button on the tabletop. A privacy field sprung up around them, shutting out all sound from the city around them and preventing them from being overheard. To better accommodate their elite clientele, the Ademnon and other establishments like it installed high end privacy fields at most of their tables. Basic civilian models only blocked sound, useful for blocking out general background noise and permitting intimate conversation. The fields at the Ademnon were much more sophisticated; blocking out sound, blurring the air to prevent lip reading, and generating full EM spectrum jamming to prevent any form of electronic eavesdropping.

“So, the Xim” Castlereagh began.
Telemachus nodded. “The Xim.”
“None of us expected the Federation to survive that, much less emerge so unscathed. I’m sure you’ve noticed the shifting sentiment in Parliament. The thought on everyone’s mind is they’re not half as powerful as they seem.”
“Public opinion is shifting that way as well. What are you planning?
“A mutual defence pact with the Federation,” Castlereagh said nonchalantly. “When the war reignites, and it will mind you, we help them out and perhaps nab some Xim space in the process. My question to you, Cato, is can we bear it? Oh I’ve had people look into it, and I know the broad strokes; short decisive wars can be an excellent way of diverting pressure outward, protracted conflicts are trouble, etc. But is there anything specific, anything being...kept quiet...that would have an impact on my recommendation?”

Telemachus tented his fingers thoughtfully. Castlereagh had been right to ask for his input. Of course the Ministry of the Interior put out memos and briefing notes on a regular basis, but his colleague knew that not everything made it into those reports, and Castlereagh wouldn’t want to be made a fool of in cabinet.
“Well, Robert, these things are prone to complications, but I’d say you’re more or less in the clear. The psychosocial projections we issued last week are rated at 90% accuracy, some of our best ever. Yes we’re still dealing with fallout from Valerian annexation, so the realm isn’t at its most stable, but since Admiral Volkov sorted out the Valerian rebels last week, there’s nothing above a category 2 insurrection, either active or projected. Of course those are simple enough to deal with; a few black bags generally does the trick, and orbital strikes are always an option.”

Castlereagh suppressed a momentary shudder. Telemachus was so small and helpless looking, it was easy to forget just how dangerous he was. The recent integration of the Valerian Republic, complete with full constituency, had caused uproar on many colonies that felt the Valerians were ‘cutting in line’. Telemachus never so much as blinked when signing death warrants or authorizing military strike teams. He had an ability to think of people as only so many statistics, making him very good at his job.

Telemachus continued. “Overall, I’d say that the realm would do well from such an arrangement. Anti-Xim propaganda practically sells itself, and improving relations with the Federation would give some of the colonies new trading opportunities they desperately need. When the war comes, we enter it as champions of freedom, guarding the independence of the Federation against Xim agression. It all has a nice ring to it.

“Indeed, thank you Cato. I’ll be sure to mention you in my report on the matter. Now, lunch.” Castlereagh deactivated the privacy field, and the noise of the rest of the world came tumbling back in.
“Indeed. They just put bluefin growler on the menu last week; I hear it’s to die for.” Telemachus signalled a waiter over, and suddenly they were just two friends enjoying lunch.

Blam!

I woke up to a splitting headache. A male Cthon was throwing a jacket on. I blinked, and turned to my other side. Funny. Normally I'd be the one leaving in the morning. I buried my head into the cheap motel pillow. It was shiny pink - reactive fabric; apparently I'd paid for the deluxe suite. A too-brief refreshing coolness surrounded my headache. The Cthon was slapping its tentacles around on the ground behind me, moving toward the door.

Blam!

I jerked awake. My clothes were strewn across the suite's floor. The Cthon was crawling onto the balcony, toward the station's promenade deck. Not a good sign. We were three stories up. My wrist was softly blinking. I rolled out of bed and crawled into some clothes, searching for my gun. I tapped my wrist as I cast about on the floor.

An image fuzzed into view from my wetware. Julian.

Empty bottles of whiskey. Cast off rezsticks. I'd had a good time last night.

Blam!

That was coming from the door. Where was my gun?
"Helena, listen, this makes us square. You got two minutes; it's the Syndicate. I can hold them off the docks for eight minutes." Message ends.
To hell with the gun. I raced for the balcony, jumping blindly after the Cthon. The deckplates came up hard and fast, so I rolled into it. I felt the heat of the explosion behind me before I heard it.

Why was the Syndicate after me? The last job I pulled, it was for them. Maybe they wanted to eliminate witnesses. Maybe they'd finally figured out who I really was. Or maybe they just wanted to kill me for sport or to send a message. I shoved my way through the crowd of surprised shoppers. My boyfriend-of-the-night was nowhere in sight. I sure hope it was as good for him as it was for me. I raced down a corner and ducked into a high end clothes store. A Siari tailor tried to wave me off.

"Excuse me, miss, but perhaps I can recommend a more suitable store-" it said.
"700 ingots for that dress," I said, pointing at a random outfit made for humans. I didn't have time to be polite.
"Well, of course if miss actually could afford-"
I grabbed its wrist and thumbed over 700 ingots, took the dress of the rack and ran to a changing room. I tore off my trenchcoat and bra and pulled the dress over my head.

"Set alarm for two minutes from now," I ordered my wetware. A small clock started counting down in the lower-left corner of my vision.

I stared at the trenchcoat. It wasn't mine at all. There were two extra sleeves; no wonder it felt strange, it was made for a Cthon. Something glinted in the pocket. I picked it up. It was a Chief Adjuster's badge. What was a Chief Adjuster doing in the type of bar I frequented?

I heard the X'Cor enter the shop. Time's up, Syndicate was here. And me without my gun.

"Overlay maintenance tunnel diagram," I ordered my wetware. There was an entrance in the ceiling above me, behind a fake panel. I grabbed the badge, quietly shoved the panel aside, and shimmied into the crawlspace. One minute to get to the docks. I called Captain Yanni.

"Ah, Miss Clarke, it's been so long since we've heard from you."
"Yanni. I'm chartering the Yacht."
"Of course, Miss. And when will you be-"
"In about 45 seconds."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. You see, we've already agreed to take on a passenger to-"
"Goddamnit, it's my ship. I know you're at the Ragnorak Docks. So either you wait for me to board or I find a new crew, and you can say goodbye to your little side ventures." I ended the call.

When I made it to the Father's Delight, I was relieved to see that Yanni hadn't left me to dry. It was, after all, technically my yacht. Yanni met me in the main passageway.

"Miss Clarke, this is highly irregular," the siari captain said.
"We've got about ten seconds before the Syndicate blows us to hell. Get us out of the system. Hell, get us out of Coalition space," I said. There was a thud as something exploded outside. "Sounds like less than ten seconds, actually."

Yanni disappeared toward the bridge. I made my way to the bar. Hair of the dog and all that. A young stewardess ran into position behind the bar.

"Vodka, neat. Actually, just leave the bottle. And we have any rezsticks?" I asked. The ship's sublight drive whined into life, pressing me into the barstool. Something thudded against the hull.
"Did we make it?" said a familiar voice from the corner of the bar/lounge. I turned.

It was the Cthon.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you on my ship?" I demanded.
"I- your ship? I chartered this ship weeks ago! I'm just a tourist, here on-"
"Storming Mrav, a 'tourist'? Try again," here I fished out the badge, "Chief Adjuster Xam Kyoda."
"Where did you get-"
"On the floor. We traded coats."

The Cthon looked down at its trenchcoat, realizing for the first time how few limbs it was designed for. Something clicked in my brain. I leaped for the coat, grabbing my gun out of the pocket before a roving tentacle could beat me to it. Now I felt better.

"Now. What were you doing on Ragnorak Station?" I asked, pointing the gun in a casual fashion. Xam's mouth tentacles quivered. My wetware interpreted that as a fear response, not that I needed it to.
"I work for an Adjustment Team! I'm just trying to pass an anti-corruption law!"
"On Ragnorak station? You must dumber than you look."
"Please! I've got a brood of eggs at home!"
"Yeah? Well then you better give me one reason why I shouldn't throw you off my ship. Seems like it's you the Syndicate's after."
After a few seconds of silence, Xam said, "My left coat pocket. It had a list of Syndicate agents aboard Ragnorak. It's what they're after. I figured I could lose them in that... establishment. You seemed strong, or at least tough enough to delay them while I ran. But now that they know we've been together - I'm so sorry!"

Damnit, Helena, what have you gotten yourself into? The Syndicate would stop at nothing to get that list back. And now that I was associated with this idiot Adjustment Chief, there was a chance that I'd seen the list. We were both walking corpses.

"Your left coat pocket's back in a tailor's changing room."
"I memorized the list! I'm all the leverage we have on them! Without me, you'll die for nothing!"

My gun didn't waver.

"Please!" Xam said.

I sighed. Killing him wouldn't make me feel better. Nor would it improve my situation. I needed to lay low for a while, at least until the Syndicate could integrate new agents into Ragnorak Station. So did the Cthon.

"Fine. You can ride with us to the first habitable planet beyond Coalition space," I said.

Until this died down, I'd have to stay out of the Coalition. We all would. Off into the middle of twisted empires and unvisited space, all because I'd slept with the wrong guy.

And things had been going so well.

Earth, Switzerland, City of Geneva

Geneva, once the beating heart of many old earth international organizations, now serves as the Seat of Power for all of the Sol 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 10th Anniversary of the end of the war against the Xim Initiative. A fifty Year-long bloody conflict that saw millions dead, and whole worlds scarred,, were it not for vigilance of the Federation's Diplomatic Envoys, the Xim 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 Alexander Regius observed his reflection onto the mirror, fixing up his suit, his nerves getting the better of him, addressing to billions of beings all across the Federation, hell even beyond can do that to you. He turned to face a aged woman around the same age as him, she was in a fine white dress, his wife, Jania. "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 Jania.

"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 a small boy, girl and a couple, his grandchildren, son and daughter-in-law. 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 10th Anniversary of the end of the War. For five decades we stood strong, even against a foe that sought our total destruction, for fifty years even as were pushed back, we held strong. Our military would not give in, and was all that stood 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. We must not also forget our brave envoys who had brought an end to the war, for their very words brought the Xim to reason, and to put an end to the violence, they, alongside our armed forces, are heroes."

"Despite the devastating aftermath...we sought to rebuild what has been lost. And although relationship between our Federation and the Xim is a strained one, I hope one day we may 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. His wife clinging onto him, by his right arm. "See? Not too bad if I say so myself." She said with a wide grin.

"You're right, wasn't too bad at all."

Above the ocean-moon of Huy
One-hundred and forty years ago

“Hetman! A sleeper!”

The ship before them rotated to aft in an endeavor to evade the enfilade from the AP Screamer, but to no avail. A molten paroxysm, a brilliant eruption of light, beautiful in its silence, and it was gone, scattered into a thousand-thousand motes of debris, briefly blinding the stars. Fusion-weapon streamers and coral-pink coil-light streaked and ignited far afield, radiant with thermonuclear luminescence; the line was holding (or so it seemed), their impulse-fields maintained. How had a sleeper been able to penetrate the vanguard?

“Hetman!”

The Screamer released another fullisade, instantly obliterating two of the escort fighters, while the rest of the detail struggled to react. The carrier riposted with their own barrage, but the Screamer deftly turned aside, having anticipated their weapons’ latency; theirs was no ship fit for true combat, and certainly not against the enemy’s spy-ships.

“They’re going to ram us, Hetman!”

“Divert energy to the bow aegis!”

“Where is Hetman So!?”

The rest of the escorts had likewise been destroyed in mere moments, leaving cool spasms of light and dross. The carrier fired once again, but the Screamer danced delicately around the streams.

“The bow aegis is at full power!”

“Brace for impact! Brace!”

The sleeper, however, had other ideas, another target in its sights.

A wave of terror swept over the carrier.

“They know.”

The ship was convulsed as the Screamer rammed itself into its leeward side. In an instant, panels flamed, warning of a hull breech in the two lowest decks. Space sucked the atmosphere from the sixth cargo hold, dragging Mur-Po warriors in its wake, grasping blindly for purchase in the void.

Ghiza Inat, one of their unlucky number, her drawn faced dappled with blood, smirked grimly as her life slowly ebbed, the stars flooding her vision like small lightnings.

They had missed.

---

The thrall Sawala was blind. Yet he felt, somehow, that he was being led into the bowels of some conspiracy.

They had, for added precaution, extinguished his hearing and bound his five arms—he had lost the sixth during his capture—but he still sensed through the faintest of vibrations an argument occurring between a group of seven people. That sense, of vibration, of echoes, he had cultivated since his birth. He did not know why they had left a blind infant alive—perhaps because he had been born, a rare case in these days, of a union between the male and female sexes. He himself would not have been so clement, had he been in the position to choose. But he had ensured that none regretted the decision.

He had been imbued with the tenets of righteous combat by the School of Move-Like-This. In hands-to-hands melee, few proved his equal. And, having demonstrated his mettle, he was given the recourse to augment himself in order to provide the barest suggestion of vision—interesting, was it not, that they had not even cured blindness, whereas in other societies it was a long-elapsed specter of history? Even so, equipped with such trappings he had been able to fight, to lay down his life for the Notables and the Eightfold General.

But that was over now. Sawala had failed, long ago. Enthralled by their enemies. Blinded once more. Enfettered and impressed with the thought-tattoo of holy slavery. Oftentimes, he had lain awake, wondering for what purpose he had been spared his life. Of what utility was a blind slave, sans one arm? The slave armies of the so-called Ascendancy had achieved renown for their ferocity and prowess; and yet he had not been impressed into their service. Why then, was he alive?

“Slave.”

In a moment a vast voice overflew his senses. Had his hearing had been restored?

“I know what you are.”

Sawala felt miniscule as the smallest particle of snow or the merest grain of salt. Drawn into a pinhead. The walls of his mind collapsed into themselves. His cells erupted into chain lightnings of phosphorescent sensation; his very flesh was permeable to the passage of unfettered thought. Atoms collided and specters danced behind his eyelids.

He discovered that in this flux, this no-space of porous thought, he too could brush his mind against other minds.

He, feebly indignant, probed back.

“What is this?”

The voice cusped him like water; he had to try very hard to gather all of his self up with it.

“I AM YOUR LORD YOUR MASTER YOUR NUMEN YOUR KING.”

Sawala’s mind had been very nearly cloven; he grasped helplessly, freefalling through epochs of nothingness. Perhaps the voice suspected this.

How could it be in an instant so forceful yet so soft?

“I will show you what to do. You need only to listen.”

The voice left him. Sensation replenished his spangled limbs, perhaps too quickly; he staggered and collapsed to his knees, nearly falling upon his face without the support of his arms.

He felt rough hands collect him and jerk him back to his feet.

His hearing was returned to him once more, but it was different than before.

“Slave!”

A woman’s voice, clarion and rich, ricocheting between the walls of a vast chamber.

“It is no matter, Sap-Fa,” another voice, this time a man’s, rocky yet reed-like, snapped.

“Did you not sense it too, Oram-Di? He is an esper.”

“You did not realize, Sap-Fa?” Sawala felt a shifting of weight, two small booted steps, a large presence at his side.

“For this he was elected. Esperdom is requisite of this…gambit .” The voice was cool, yet somewhat sangfroid.

Indignance.

“You were not required to know.”

“And with whom was he parleying? Insurgents? Or perhaps with the enemy themselves?”

Oram-Di chuckled wryly, turned a step more.

“Pray, do not probe, Sap-Fa. Were it for you to know, you would have already. Perform your duties, and be silent.”

In a more sober tone, he added, “Not much time is left us.”

Sawala could only imagine the dimensions of this chamber; he had been transferred from Hetman So’s frigate, by way of high velocity clipper, dodging enemy fire as they went. How far had they broken into the line?

Another voice, deeper even than Oram-Di’s, echoed now, cold and undulant.

“Then the hour has arrived. Let us begin.”

Sawala sensed four more steps, and a vast being before him. The ship’s own respiration, of thrumming engine and metal, practically shouted out at him; far away, a muffled alarm tone sounded.

“Slave Sawala. Despite your genetic infirmity, you were known as a warrior of some acclaim before you were stooped to thralldom. We are Mujad, and recognize your valor.”

Someone unclasped his fetters. The clang roared through the tremendous hall like a death rattle.

“Thus, despite your blindness, both to light and to faith, we grant you the boon of noble death.”

A scream ruptured the air. Thousand-toned. Repulsive. Ululant. Stinking with a hatred beyond death. It invaded Sawala’s bones—the tintinnabulation of a hundred bells, red-hued and obscene. He could not help but shudder, and could feel those around him share the selfsame sentiments.

The voice, however, did not falter.

“You will bring down the Goddess’s judgement down onto your people’s heads.”

---

They didn’t see it coming. Really, no one did. Not even its progenitors could have foretold it.

The AP fleet had made headway. Hetman So’s dreadnought, the heavy-hitter of the Huy’s left flank, had been obliterated, and orders had been issued from some Hetman to retreat to the moon’s surface in order to prepare the defense. The sally had failed.

Then, there was a flash of light. In truth, it was not much different than the thousands of others that dappled the stars with their silent bursting, though perhaps a bit more intense in its brilliance.

If the beast let out another scream, there was none to hear it in the void. Like an orchid, or a fulgurous growth, a sinuate appendage, bristling with grasping fingers, the il-ship bloomed from the third cargo hold of the carrier ship Mohingas.

It ate the nearest frigate, the Yuenaga, along with its escort detail and a smattering of ships-of-the-line, in a single gulp. A spade of comm-pings flared and were extinguished within a breath.

Next, it pounced, a great stinging tail snapping behind it, into a cluster of skirmishing ships, sending a great number of them reeling into their formations at near-light speeds. The space above Huy was convulsed with a million plumes of roseate and gold, a million spangled stellate wreckages of titanium and steel.

The il-ship danced, feckless, famished, its hunger unending, dazzled by the luminesce. There was a kind of ecstasy to it.

The AP fleet, in less than a standard minute, was annihilated, its leavings (those that remained) scattered to the vacuum of open space.

Few detailed records have been left us from that day, but it is speculated that over six-hundred and thirty-thousand ships had been deployed.

Yet even with such a grand table having been laid before it, the beast was not satisfied. A great hunger—maybe not so much a hunger, but a pain—rumbled in its bowels. What else was there left to eat but the moon?

Like a fish spasming in its death throes, the il-ship convulsed in its anguish. The lunar guard were the first to be taken—though it’s likely they didn’t know it. The moon was still asleep. It dug and dug, its maw snapping and snapping and frothing and frothing, deep into Yuhano’s atmosphere. Did any stir at their window, or part the lianas of the canopy, to see their damnation writ in the heavens? Deep, deep, deep, into the core, into the pith of the apple, down, down, down! Where? Where? Where? All it wanted was some food to eat!

Yuhano imploded, then, cloven into three. Caught in Inur’s gravity, it was speculated that a mere seven hours remained before landfall. The spaceports were jostled, but there was little doubt. The many-armed fled in their clippers to greener pastures; the others imagined the lights in the sky as the gleaming earrings of Hanapa. The rest is already known.

The Acquiescence, as it came to be known long days after, truly merited the name.

---

Space
Present Day

Rong-Un came to vat nine, the last of his daily patrol. The view panels were dimmed, thankfully; it was never a pleasant task to see the eyes, open perpetually, massive and hollow and dark, watching him at his inspections.

It was not as though he was afraid of the beasts. Rather to the contrary, he found them a perverse source of fascination. But even as an Eight-Limbed, and after such a time, he still thought it difficult to meet their gaze.

It was of no consequence. He went about the routine, as per usual. With a flourish, he drew up four holographic panels, a brief mote of turquoise luminescence in the cavernous chamber. With his first pair of arms, he set about monitoring the metabolic processes; with the second, he conducted a no-ray scan, in order to determine if any abnormalities were present in this specimen in particular, and to check for the presence of anti-rejection serums in the bloodstream; and with the third, a most wicked task, he exposed the dormant cerebrum to the mercurial current of the no-field.

All Rong-Un performed with circumspection and unconscious precision. He had carried out such duties for three cycles, and by now it was rote.

The only task left him was physiognomic observance. This usually consisted of merely a cursory glance, a comparison with the tri-quarterly accountings to see whether any changes had affected themselves in that period. Usually there were none—the il-ship transformation was an elaborate and laborious project. But even so, it was not unheard of.

Hanapa teaches that not only our eyes give us recourse to brush the truth—from where, then, would faith emerge? Sometimes the things that we cannot, or have not seen are those which hold the most power over us.

Rong-Un did not muse over such teachings as he, with his fourth pair of limbs, ignited the view panels of vat nine. The great il-ship bobbed listlessly in the zero-gravity of its chamber. It was hopelessly massive and wretched to behold, and once more, the vast ovoid eyes, starless and inky in their infinity.

As always, their gaze unsettled him for a moment, although little beyond a brief start. He busied himself with other things. The physiognomic observance was normal, and no aberrations or mutations could be caught by the naked eye.

He contemplated the creature for a moment, not really understanding why.

I wonder if it’s hungry?

Rong-Un smiled briefly.

Then, he turned off the lights.

The Winter Palace
Brandenburg
Praetoria

“...and that, your Imperial Majesty, concludes Lord Sir Castlereagh’s proposal. Once again I hope this message finds you in the best of health, and look forward to our next meeting. On behalf of your Majesty’s government, this is Lord Chancellor Edwin Wenzel Metternich. Message concludes.” The holoprojector flickered off. Imperial Queen Catherine Romanov reclined in her seat slightly and tented her fingers. She cast her gaze around the sunroom, enjoying the warmth that was so rare on Praetoria. This particular sunroom was not to be confused with the Sun Room, a massive banquet hall in the Constanietsy wing of the Summer Palace. This sunroom was a personal retreat in the Winter Palace, the section of the Imperial Palace Complex reserved for the Royal Family’s day to day living. She was not alone of course; various Su’urtugal guards of the Imperskiy Vichnesk were camouflaged around and outside the chamber. Joining them were two Su’urtugal from Lord Captain Commander Martuf’s own retinue, causing some friction in the room. Nobody was allowed to bring armed guards into the presence of the Imperial Queen; nobody except Lord Captain Commanders of the Yanissan principalities, as their constitution required they have armed guards at all times. It was one of the many complexities of Imperial law that had caused some real headaches in the early days of the Commonwealth, but nowadays everyone had gotten used to it. If Su’urtugal were capable of pride, the friction in the room might have been called professional rivalry.

Catherine and Martuf themselves effortlessly ignored the discomfort of their guards; being surrounded by them since birth made one very good at ignoring them. Martuf joined the Queen in tenting his fingers. She shot him a quizzical glance, suspecting she was being teased, but Martuf feigned innocence.

It was the Yanissan who finally broke the silence. “Well, that’s all nice and good, except both Castlereagh and Metternich completely underestimate the difficulty of fighting the Xim in their territory.”
“So you’ve said before,” Catherine replied, “but you didn’t see fit to advise either of them on the subject?”
“They’re on Corinthene right now. I hate Corinthene, not enough sleaze,” Martuf said dismissively.
“You find Praetoria sleazy?”
“Not at all, your Imperial Majesty, but it certainly is decadent, which is almost as good.”
“I’m so glad we could accommodate you. Can we get back on topic? I’m still inclined to accept Castlereagh’s proposal. Regardless of the Xim’s defensive capabilities, the war with the Federation demonstrated how poor their offensive capabilities are. A mutual defence pact with the Federation would cost us very little, but gain us a great deal of goodwill, and possibly an ally in other potential conflicts.”

She was right in many ways, Martuf noted with just a touch of pride at the Queen’s diplomatic sense. Still, he decided to press the issue, partially to test her and partially because he didn’t think the Federation would make a very useful ally. “We may be better off trying to reach a preemptive diplomatic solution with the X’Cor.”
The Queen shook her head. “You know as well as I such a thing would cost Metternich his government. And a constitutional crisis if I tried to Mandate it through. Nobody wants diplomatic resolutions with a bunch of disgusting slavers. The entire population is practically waiting for the X’Cor to try something so we can kick their asses back to the stone age.”

Right again. Martuf himself knew that the X’Cor slave rebellion was wrapping up, which would leave the X’Cor free to resume their expansionist tendencies. They were still a ways from open hostilities, but understandably the populace of the Commonwealth didn’t sleep very easily with hyper-militaristic slavers sitting at their northern border.

“I’ve made up my mind on this, though of course I appreciate your input Martuf,” the Queen said resolutely. “This is about accruing diplomatic goodwill, something we’re rather in need of. I’m going to issue a Royal Mandate on the subject and give Metternich all the support he needs. I want envoys in Federation space within the week.”

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

Federation-Commonwealth border
3 days later

A Reliant-class battlecruiser, the Anna Karenina, dropped out of warp well on the Commonwealth side of the border and began broadcasting.

“This is RCNS Anna Karenina, Captain Arthur Wellesley speaking. We are carrying a diplomatic delegation and request permission to enter UFS space.”

Federation-Commonwealth border
Star System of Paradiso
Paradiso, an appropriate name for such a star system, its significance magnifies once discovered what world lies within it's sphere, the rightly undisputed and self-proclaimed "Jewel of the Frontier", New Columbia. An Earth-like and sized world, although further away from its star, being the fourth planet of the star system, it was near perfect for colonization, with an atmosphere suitable for nearly most known sapient species in and out the Sol Federation. It is there the meeting between the Federation and Commonwealth are to take place.

--------

Drifting along the border, a lone SDF vessel, an old Cyclops-class Frigate, the USS Dutiful, was on its daily rotational patrol of the border and the system's perimeter, not to say there was much to worry about, relations with the Commonwealth were relatively fine, no particularly good reason for an invasion on their part, as such, it was a job with a guaranteed survival rate, but for those many eager and thrill seekers, it was a dull assignment with little to no thrills.

From within the Ship's CIC, at the center of the room sat the captain, a bored, ragged man in his late thirties, Jamil Mason. One of countless numbers of veterans of the Xim War, many of which had retired or went higher up in the command chain, for Jamil's case, as well as quite a few others, he had a less then glamorous reassignment to the Paradiso SDF. "At least the money pays well." he lazily murmured to himself, a daily reminder.

"Captain!" A Dathu called out in robotic tone, a translator collar strapped around his neck. "We got a Warp signature on the otherside of the border..." he paused as he awaited for more data. "...A Commonwealth Battcruiser!"

"Ah Shit.." Jamil sighed. "As much as we all want action..let's not get too hasty pe-"

"Captain." A female fryrite spoke up."We're receiving a message from the cruiser, playing it now."

“This is RCNS Anna Karenina, Captain Arthur Wellesley speaking. We are carrying a diplomatic delegation and request permission to enter UFS space.”

The tension in the room left as fast as it arrived, the captain sighing with relief. "We really need faster updates from Command...anyway, let them through, not my business to get in the way of what the bigwigs got planned. Patch me though."

"Yes, sir."

"Attention to the Anna Karenina, this is Captain Jamil Mason of the USS Dutiful, you have clearance to pass though Federation Space."

Pinehelm
Heilagur

Abraham tried to brush the sleep out of his eyes, as he stood on the concrete platform beside his numerous colleagues. Abe checked the curls of his 'stache with his thumb and forefinger, tracing the hairs as the nearly looped themselves over his scarred cheeks.
A tram above the underground station made it's presence known with heavy rumbles that shook he pillars and the ceiling.

"Is it true...that this station...is as old..as the human colony here?" said a lumbering, aged alsibass. With the intermittent blurting of common-heilaguran all alsibass spoke with. Abe looked up to his travelling companion, Akstadissijjo, his skin was shaded more grey and worn than that of a younger alsibass.
"I believe so, though some of these tunnels run through old fortifications built by the original heilagurans" Abraham told the alsibass, watching his eye stalks as the peered over the platform's edge and down the dark maws that the tracks flowed through.

Akstadissijjo was the elder of his clan, he had joined Abraham on his journey back to Heilagur and it was the alsibass' first time off world. As was alsibass tradition, Abraham had gotten him the gift of a camera. Akstad hadn't stopped taking photos to take back to his clan.
Abraham didn't know what to do with his gift, a war-hatchet made from obsidian and wrapped in patterned cloth.

Around them were a small escort of clergy, wrapped in pale robes. Certainly making Abraham, in his dark suit and half shoulder cape in blue, along with Akstad and his leg wraps and leather harness seem out of place.

Abe looked behind the clergy and the tiled pillars to see shrines imbedded in the walls, the lifts and stairs in and out of the station wedged between candles and various icons. The smell of incense that reminded Abe of cinnamon, graced his nostrils as it permeated the station.

A dull screech rolled down the tracks as announcers to the arrival of the tram. The clergy around them picked up their cases and other religious paraphernalia in preparation for embarking and for the experience millions never get.

The lights of the tram panned out in from of the long tram. Through the windows Abe could spot various people, some in communal prayer, others in silent meditation or reverent chat between themselves.
As the tram squealed to a halt, select doors were opened and out emerged dark armoured figures, dispatchers with helmets laced with orange and red lights and electronics. Each was armed with various firearms, and each rippled authority across the platform as Abe and Akstad stepped onto the train.

To the bow of the train, sat numerous clergy and pilgrims in a whispering choir of prayer, some sat on seats and others on the gangway. To the stern waited a dispatcher with her helmet removed, her brown eyes were locked on Akstad as he ducked his eye stalks and bend his legs to fit inside. Alongside her was a drone, shaped like a shell and floating from the ground with a hefty lens peering to the two new passengers.

"Welcome, welcome. Envoy Var Constavos and Akstadissijjo of the Fire-Chasers. I am Tekmi-20, the Godhead's assistant" The drone echoed out of it's shell to the two newcomers, bowing it's lens to them.
"I am Lieutenant Tethys" the dishelmed dispatcher with her hand extended for Abraham. As Abraham took up the shake with a smile, he saw the lieutenant's eyes look to the Alsibass' clawed hands.

As Akstad extended his own hand, the lieutenant bowed to him instead. Akstad politely bowed back to the dispatcher and Abe could feel an underlining tension press against his mind.

"We have an appointment to keep" the drone swung around and floated with a bobbing motion down towards the back of the train. The lieutenant stepped to the side to allow Akstad and Abraham passage down the gangway. The envoy trailed behind the lumbering alsibass as they followed shortly behind the drone.

The train was starting it's departure as they walked between carriages, each one becoming more and more diluted of clergy and passengers until finally they came upon heavily guarded doors.
Some dozen or so dispatchers assorted themselves on the seats and along the gangway of the carriage, clearing themselves out of the way for the quartet as they finally entered the final carriage.

It was decorated rather resplendently, cloth and silk curtains draped lavishly over the edges and narrowed the windows.
In the centre sat a rectangular box, made from steel and plastic, sat on a long and burgundy pillow. It was engraved and etched with glyphs and symbols, to help determine which tomb it was.
A mask, it's eye sockets filled with bright blue light, lifted itself up with it's appendage and looked up at the newcomers.

A knot in Abraham's stomach tensed again as he stood and bowed before the Godhead, before kneeling beside a squatting Akstad.

"I'm glad you both have managed to join us today" A voice simmered out from invisible gaps in the tomb, echoing with such gravity that the carriage sounded quieter after.
"It is... an honour to... be in your...presence" Akstad said, his eye stalks were low and reverent.
"I too am honoured your holiness" Abraham added with his face facing the floor of the carriage.

"I am sorry that we could only meet while my tomb is in transit, but we must prepare for extinction remembrance" the Godhead's voice was a collection of voices, cast into one united sound with essences of the masculine and feminine tones.

"It is splendid to see two excellent representatives of their species before they are sent to their duties to the Doctrinate" the Godhead remarked, Abe glancing at the drone that lingered like a buoy floating on calm, invisible waves beside the tomb.
"I would like to tell you both that your tasks ahead of you are different but ultimately the same. To bring understanding and strengthen ties" the Godhead continued.

"Akstadissijjo of the Fire-Chasers, I would like to thank you again for coming to Heilagur, I know you have many functions to attend and lectures to give, I trust everything is to your liking?" The Godhead gently glided it's mask over to Akstad, who bowed his head forwards and back.
"Yes... everything is good... thank you... your holiness" Akstad said with his eye stalks raised more to match the four eyes of the mask. As it moved, Abe could see the Godhead's eye lights trail behind it's movements, like time slowed down in the brief moments it moved.

"And Envoy Var Constavos, you are settled on the Frostbiter well, are you not?" Abe nodded.
"Yes your holiness, I am well-replenished and ready for mission" Abraham told the Godhead.

"Good,good. The Lieutenant will accompany you as your dispatcher coordinator, for the mission with the Frostbiter's crew and research teams. I hope you will require her expertise as an advisor and not as a soldier." The Godhead nodded it's mask.

Natural light poured into the carriage, the duration of the tracks underground had ended and the sights of Pineshelm stood for miles around the tracks.
"Your holiness... if I may..." Akstad said as he lifted an arm into the weaved satchel pulled around his torso. "May we... take an image... to commemorate... and take back... to my clan?" Akstad finished, pulling his camera and gripping it clumsily in his claws.

The Godhead nodded an affirmative, and Akstad lifted his camera to someone who would take it.
Abraham stood up and grabbed the camera, watching the as the alsibass moved into position beside the Godhead and the tomb produced a new appendage for a hand shake photo.

"Okay ready" Abraham said, as the flash subsumed the carriage for a brief second.

-=-=-

As the Seal dropship wailed and hissed it's landing into the loading bay, Abe had the last of his packed bags beside him along with the remaining crew and passengers set to get to their new offices and stations on the Frostbiter.
The rear hatch of the ship folded open and it's bare interior was quickly filling up with bags and people, Abe turned to Akstad beside him.

The train departed from the latest station behind them, clergy aboard the transport set off down stairs and towards other parts of the travel hub.
"You're staying in this tower aren't you?" Abe asked Akstad, who nodded his torso.
"Yes... my hotel...room is on...the higher...levels" Akstad said positively.

"Well, good luck then Akstad" Abe reached down to pick up his bag, before he felt Akstad's claw on his shoulder.

"Wait...Last image" Akstad pulled the camera out of his satchel as he slid his arm over Abe's neck and shoulders. Abe was more than willing to oblige, pulling up his cheeks as he peeled a grin across his face, just as Akstad bowed his eye stacks in similar elation.

The flash went off, and the photo was done. Abe picked up his bag and shook Akstad's claw.

"Catch the fire...Abraham"
"You too Akstad"

Star System: Aquilon
Planet: Delgosh, Swamp World

The last rebel outpost stood within this system, on the forsaken swamp planet that would be considered a slum to any other nation and yet there the rebels had set their base. There, the rebels were waiting. They knew that the X'Cor fleet would be upon them all too soon and with it would bring the death of the rebellion, they had to get off world before the fleet got to them. Where would they go afterwards? If they fled then they would become pirates that plundered any trade ships, no doubt. Many did not wish that fate, many stayed to fight the X'Cor to the brutal end.

The rebels set up trenches within the dry parts of the swamps, encircling the entrance to an underground base that contained the last hope of freedom for all the slaves.

"General! X'Cor Battle Cluster just warped into orbit! There are five Capital-classes and twenty Azur-classes!," a communications speaker stated to the rebel general, a X'Cor who supported the movement that the slaves held. The scouting vessels would be shot down no doubt.

"Sound the alarm! Prepare all men for combat!," The general ordered, a siren began ringing through the base which signaling the soldiers to the trenches and turrets that had been set up. Each man, each women, all soldiers, awaited their demise. They would not go gentle into that good night, they would rage against the dying of the light. There were possibly thousands of soldiers waiting for what seemed like hours, a plethora of slave races united against a common foe.

The time had come. Terror Worms descended from the skies to land men on the surface of the murky swamp planet. The X'Cor would not risk drawing their troops by flooding the underground complex so that the men could take it. They would need survivors to prove as examples to the other slaves. The Worms deployed their men away from the trenched so that they would not die to weapons, they proceeded to go back to their respective ships and deploy more ships. 23,000 X'Cor totaled when all their men were deployed. There was only 3,000 rebels to be slaughtered, three-thousand to butchered.

Then the X'Cor charged the rebel lines, using the many trees as crude cover whenever they could. Coil guns began roaring on both sides as the battle truly begun. Explosions could be heard, the battle shouts of both sides, the death screams of many who would see this battle. The rebels were giving it their all, but they were not as heavily trained as the X'Cor military was. One by one they began to fall, though they refused to break even with the sound of the Hercules-class fighters overhead. Seconds passed, many would die within that second. Minutes, many more deaths. Hours, countless deaths.

How could one predict the amount of deaths that would happen?

Hours passed before the adrenaline-filled X'Cor mustered the bloodlust to draw their swords and charge for the trenches to end this fight once and for all. They charged through a hail of coil rounds, through the knee-high waters of the swamp. The plan worked.

The X'Cor begun cutting down the slaves one by one, heads and severed limbs began filling the trenches as the X'Cor pushed forward with their thirst for war. The X'Cor seemed to feel no pain and they didn't seem to notice damage that they had taken before they bled out on the field or were flat out killed.

The general gazed upon the field with sorrow in his eyes before he ordered the surrender of the rebel forces.

The battle had lasted aa total of three hours, 2,786 rebellious slaves had been killed in the battle and around 3,976 X'cor had been lost within the battle. Those who surrendered where sent to prison outposts where they would forever live out the rest of their days, death would have been a mercy compared to those places. Regardless, the rebellion was destroyed.

---

"The rebellion has been defeated! The X'Cor empire can now rest knowing that its populous will not rise against it! My loyal citizens and loyal slaves, this marks a wondrous day! All shall be free to celebrate the end of this travesty! All hail the X'Cor Empire, Uplifter of Civilizations! - A speech made 15:65:09, general galactic time, by Empress Ssirek.

---

With the war out of the way for many, the X'Cor scientists pondered on why their ships could be vulnerable when they had the weaponry that they needed. The first option would be to put more guns on all the ships, but that would only get in the way of other weapons unless they proportionally scaled the ships. However, the X'Cor could navy did not want larger ships or more guns to arm themselves with, they wanted something that could deflect incoming fire. Thus, their ships could last longer in a fight, long enough to calculate another strategy if their attacks were not working.

So, the scientists began work on these 'Deflector Shields' no doubt this would notion would be absurd sense that seemed like a coward's decision in the matter. The Oin had agreed to it. With the backing of such a respected man, surely the scientists had to be forced to succumb to the Navy's demands. With that began their first project after the rebellion. Some were at first skeptical, many others believed it to be possible somehow.

Friedrich Lochland
Ragnorak Station Approach Vector

MSV Friedrich Lochland inched its way towards one of the stations docking bays, now on the final phase of its approach. It was generally considered good policy to maneuver on thrusters only this close to a station, lest a stray misfiring of a main drive melt a hole somewhere where holes should not be melted.

MSV was perhaps a misleading prefix for the Friedrich Lochland. It was indeed registered with the Commonwealth Ministry of Commerce as a “Merchant Space Vessel”, but it was considerably faster and better armed than most ships of the same designation. Friedrich Lochland was in fact a decommissioned Unyielding class heavy cruiser, purchased and refurbished from the scrapyards above Bravia. Formerly named RCNS Impatient, the vessel’s original hull was over a hundred years old, and it had been mothballed for 50 before being refurbished and renamed. The Unyielding class predated Commonwealth Gamma lasers, so its turrets were less potent Xray lasers. Combined with the removal of its axial weapons, it was cleared for civilian ownership and operations, but it was still very much a warship. Just a very, very old one.

The expense of purchasing and maintaining such a vessel exceeded the costs of a more traditional freighter, but the Friedrich Lochland’s captain had come to possess it under some interesting circumstances. The captain himself was an interesting man, engaged in all sorts of interesting business. His name...was also Friedrich Lochland. Lochland was a bit of everything; innocent cargo hauler when it suited him, smuggler and gun for hire most of the time. He occasionally took passengers as well; there wasn’t much of a market for high security high discretion personal transport, but those few who needed the service tended to pay well.

Lochland prowled around the bridge, deep within his ship’s armoured bulk. He was a male Vit’azny, a touch over 70. He was a little on the tall side and a little on the thin side. His frame was lithe, but well muscled, and he twisted a stylus between his fingers with tremendous dexterity. Shutting down the IDC always left him feeling vulnerable and therefore fidgety. “Status?” he called out.
“We’re about 500 meters out, Captain. Shutting down thrusters and letting station tractors take over,” Vana replied with a touch of exasperation. Vana Sadi was a Yanissan woman who served as Lochland’s pilot and first officer. On most ships, the two roles were filled by separate people, but Lochland insisted that he was the only one allowed to walk around the bridge looking ‘captain-y’.
“Well I’m sorry that my concern is bothering you Vana,” Lochland replied sarcastically. “We’re just a little exposed here, and starships are very expensive. I think about these things Vana, that’s why I’m Captain and you’re...well, definitely not Captain.”

Lochland’s sarcasm blew over his XO like so much hot air, the woman having long since gotten used to his eccentricities. Something on the display gave her pause though. Vana frowned. “Freddy, can you confirm? It looks like there’s an outbound craft on main drives”

A holographic depiction of the ship’s AI construct flickered into existence beside the Yanissan woman. It closely resembled Lochland, except it was a touch more handsome and gallant looking. “I see it too,” Freddy confirmed. “It’s coming right this way. Idiot can’t drive a boat.”
“Indeed. Hold tight for a moment everyone.” Vana reengaged thrusters in an instant and pushed the Friedrich Lochland just in time to clear it of the small yacht’s reckless flight.

Lochland swore. “Freddy, open a channel, blast them with whatever loud shrill noises you think might be most annoying.”

Horns, of course, didn’t work in space, but filling the radiowaves with obnoxious noises could be just as satisfying. Without any further delay, the Friedrich Lochland resumed docking.

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Despite earning the nickname “Coalition of Reasonable People”, the Coalition remained a prime market for Yanissan narcotics. It was a cargo hold full of such narcotics that brought Lochland and his crew to Ragnorak station. Well, technically his hold was full of industrial chemicals, but they were laced with all kinds of drugs that could be extracted and made ready for consumer use quite easily. It was a fairly standard smuggling trick, and it certainly wouldn’t have worked if he was going to say, Praetoria, but customs on Ragnorak station were considerably less existent.

Lochland and Vana were just finishing up business with their local buyer, a member of the Syndicate of course, when he was interrupted by a call. The two of them made a show of not eavesdropping while they desperately tried to eavesdrop; Lochland did it because it was a bad habit, while Vana was more concerned their deal was about to go south. Fortunately the call didn’t seem to be about their current deal, though Vana had noticed their contact giving them meaningful glances.

Their contact, named Slarty, sidled over and spoke up. “Lochland, you’ve got a pretty fast ship, good crew, and some nice firepower. You’re a great smuggler-”
“That’s, ‘honest merchant Captain’, Slarty” Lochland interjected.
“Right. Anyways, how do you feel about bounty hunting? There’s some particular people the Syndicate wants brought back here, and they’re willing to pay nicely.”
“It’s not my usual gig, but for an old friend I can look into it.”

Slarty scribbled a number on a data pad and slid it towards Lochland, whose eyes visibly bulged. “Yes, yes I can certainly look into it.”
“Excellent. We have every reason to believe the targets have left Coalition space, which incidentally is why we need you. We’ve confirmed they’re aboard this yacht, the Father’s Delight” Slarty called up the yacht in question on the pad.

Lochland laughed. “Oh perfect. That’s the ship that almost ran into us on the way in here. I do love it when the gods have a sense of irony.”

It didn’t take them long to work out the details. Time was of the essence, and before they knew it, Lochland and Vana were back aboard the Friedrich Lochland and preparing the ship for departure.

“Freddy,” Lochland called out, “did you get a good read on the emissions from that yacht that almost hit us earlier?”
“Course I did, it nearly flew up my nose didn’t it?”
Lochland grinned. “Well, set a pursuit course. We’re going bounty hunting.”

The Meknik Union
Muster Point Echo, Grey Fleet deployment zone.

In the dark space between worlds, a fleet base hung in orbit of a rogue planetoid without a star. A hidden base from which to wage war against enemies whom being in line of sight was enough to put one in the crosshairs of death. Secrecy was it's shield more than the hundreds of starships cradled in it's dockyards and hovering in orbit. If need be, the base was one of dozens meant to support and wage war decades after the collapse of the society it was meant to protect.

A mentality of absolute bayonet-point warfare the Union was now paying for, Admiral Angevian sighed as he turned away from the holo of a starscape. It would be so easy to lose track of these bases if it weren't for encrypted locator beacons on obscure frequencies of cosmic waves. A mere misalignment of a single beacon could cause a base like this to be lost, as it was meant to be by design. A fleet base capable of sustaining a entire battlegroup and support elements could be lost by accident and left in the hands of the crew relentlessly drilled for contingencies against discovery by ruthless alien enemies.

Only the enemy was far from ruthless, and had never meant the war to go to the extremes it had......

"Admiral Angevian?"

The greyfur Meknik perked up in his chair, mentally returning to the meeting he was sitting in. Fortunately his daydream had gone largely unnoticed in the reception of the standard general report. Daydreaming during a fleet planning op would have been far worse, but his aide had politely poked him back into reality, which he thanked with a nod as the General Report concluded and the meeting shifted to the real subject of the day.

"So in summary Admirals our internal matters are, while not entirely stable, are under control for the present time. There should be no draw-down of forces slated for the Grey, Green, or Blue fleets or the upcoming operations." Finished Fleet Admiral Rawne.

"Thats a first." Angevian couldn't help but comment, to the agreement of most of the other Admirals in the room, used to shortages and squadrons being called upon to deal with some stray fire somewhere.

"Parliament is taking the recovery of the Lost Margin and the Dark Void Armories very seriously." Flatly replied Rawne. "With the original records destroyed, we have over two hundred large industrial colony missions unaccounted for, launched in the general direction of a cluster we now recognize as being not just inhabited but likely occupied by FTL-capable alien races unlike anything in our local cluster. The possibility of provoking an outside power and sparking another war is a very grave risk ladies and gentlemeks. Worse, these are colonies that do not have access to the Ultani industrial technology we have acquired, which means a repeat of the same garden-world strip-mining and exploitation that got us into this mess to begin with. We must find those colonies and get them to stand down at any cost."

"What about the local Resistance? Taking away this many carriers is going to embolden their fighting spirit." Inquired another Admiral.

"The Resistance is running out of steam and spare parts, we have confirmed they are no longer able to maintain their plasma lances. This takes priority."

"Gonna be a long patrol for those involved." Said Admiral Gaven, looking up at Angevian. "Theres a damn high likeliness you won't be coming back for years."

"Decades." Angevian replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Its going to be six months before we even reach the first survey point to even start scanning. Even with a 200-ship expeditionary force, theres a ton of space to cover. I'm willing to do it. So are my crews. Afterall, there is a serious chance we may have to expand and develop upon those Armory colonies, am I right?"

"Yes. There is no telling what distant alien worlds may hold." Rawne agreed. "The discovery of Tessium on Ajaxis turned our nation's understanding of armor-piercing metallurgy on it's head, plus the unique assets of a dozen other worlds. Those Armory Colonies are just as much a potential asset as a risk. Understood?"

"Crystal. I will find the Dark Void Armories. We march in a week."

"Admiral Gaven, are you prepared to track the Lost Margin?"

"We're just waiting for the last division of scout sloops. We'll ship out in two weeks at the latest."

"Good. This is a big damn mess we have to clean up, and we have to get it done fast before someone else trips over those colonies. Still, given the Parliament's overwhelming support for this search-and-secure, I would also like to discuss contingency plans for further expeditions. As Admiral Angevian said, its a big galaxy out there. We need to be ready to make the most of however many ships we can wrangle away from occupation efforts-"

As the meeting shifted towards mechanical details of deployments and maneuvers, Angevian's eyes were once more drawn to the holo of a starscape. He couldn't see the stars in that image, only the ghosts of the dead hovering outside the station. Millions upon millions of ghosts looming all around him, rapping on the windows and bulkheads reminding him of his purpose. To not let those deaths be for nothing.

This would not be enough to wipe away the stains of death on his dirty paws. But perhaps it would be the beginning of reconciliation with his ghosts.

"Admiral? You are daydreaming again. Do you need a stim-patch?"

Summary:
The Meknik Union is launching expeditionary fleets to track down two lost Armory Colony missions, designate "Dark Void" and "Lost Margin". Both of which were aimed near the main cluster of our game map and now lost to the Union, who is worried of what will happen if they are found.

Star System of Paradiso
RCNS Anna Karenina

Paradiso was certainly a busy star system, Captain Arthur Wellesley noted. The bridge’s main holodisplays were cramped with signatures of all sorts generated by local traffic, each one diligently flagged by the CIC as it was detected, first in unknown white, then friendly blue as the CIC received confirmation of their identity. The CIC was being especially vigilant today, probably trying to show off for the UFS. Wellesley found it faintly annoying, but he wasn’t going to bother making a fuss about it. He preoccupied himself with monitoring Anna Karenina’s progress in-system, cruising at about 80% maximum acceleration, partially to not look threatening, and partially because Wellesley felt it prudent to not advertise exactly how fast his ship could move.

The choice in speed had caused some friction between himself and the mission’s lead diplomat, Anderson Ribbentrop. The diplomat argued that since they were trying to secure the Federation as an ally, it would be a good idea to broadcast the ship’s capabilities as prominently as possible to underscore the value of the Commonwealth’s friendship. Wellesley strongly disagreed. Ribbentrop wanted to offer the UFS delegation a comprehensive tour of the ship, including up close looks at the weapons systems. Wellesley, once again, strongly disagreed. They’d reached something of a compromise. 80% maximum acceleration instead of 60%. The tour would not include sensitive areas of the ship, but the delegation shuttle’s landing approach would be plotted to conveniently give them a close flyby of the axial weapons and the main broadside batteries. It would let the UFS get an idea of the Commonwealth’s capabilities, without giving away too much.

Ribbentrop himself was down in the diplomatic state room on the ventral surface of the ship, a room large enough to be considered palatial for the usually confined spaces of a warship. He had clearance to be on the bridge, but by long tradition he kept clear of it while the ship was underway unless absolutely necessary. The navy didn’t appreciate civilians getting underfoot aboard their precious boats. He was, however, linked by comms to the bridge, a courtesy extended by Captain Wellesley to keep him up to date on the ship’s situation. Ribbentrop looked over the first draft of the proposal he’d put forward to the UFS delegation. It was simple enough, a mutual defence pact, wherein each party agreed to come to the aid of the other in any war initiated by a third party. Importantly, it did not cover any wars instigated by the Federation or the Commonwealth, and bound the two of them together in any defensive war, not just one with the Xim; the Commonwealth was trying to secure a partner against any possible X’Cor hostility. Ribbentrop suspected it would be the second part that the Federation might balk at; they might want to restrict the pact to exclusively the Xim, their most notable enemy, instead of saddling themselves with whatever enemies the Commonwealth might have. Regardless, Ribbentrop was confident they could reach a satisfactory agreement with a little time and patience.

New Columbia was quickly growing larger, and after an exchange with the planet’s traffic controllers, Anna Karenina settled into a parking orbit. They’d been provided with the comm frequencies of the Federation offices on New Columbia, and Wellesley took a few moments to revise the notes Ribbentrop had prepared for him about what to say in his initial message. Any invitation aboard ship had to be delivered by the captain; that was simply not within any diplomat’s authority. When Wellesley felt comfortable that he wouldn’t completely flub the message, he signalled his comms officer to open a channel. “This is Captain Arthur Wellesley, commanding officer of the Royal Commonwealth Navy Ship Anna Karenina, carrying a diplomatic delegation representing her Imperial Majesty’s government. We come in the spirit of friendship and cooperation, hoping to strengthen the relationship between the Imperial Systems Commonwealth and the United Federation of the Sol Sector. I understand the Federation has recently celebrated the 10th anniversary of the end of the Xim War; to pay our respects, I would like to extend an invitation to a reception aboard my ship, at your earliest convenience.”

Fayyer gave his staffer a long hard look as the younger nalloth approached, his eyes kept close to the side of his head. That was not exactly a good sign. “Kus” Fayyer let out a long whistle, “please tell me you have something on the Eiclens. Anything.”

For his part the staffer named Kus didn’t quite shy away as he grunted a negative response. “My apologies senator, but they have been doing an excellent job covering their tracks.” He handed Fayyer a folder containing intelligence reports and analysis from a number of political and military experts. “We have managed to track a number of their aerospace forces as they shifted them around, but any troop maneuvering we’ve spotted can be explained as routine exercises.”

Fayyer cursed loudly as he dropped the folder onto a nearby table, not bothering to look at its contents. “The senate is meeting with the Tribune in twenty minutes and I’ve got nothing to prove that the Eiclens are preparing to rebel again.”

“It wasn’t really a-“ Kus began only to find himself cut off by Fayyer’s shrill whistle.

“Sure we call it the Eiclen Revolt” Fayyer’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “But it was a rebellion. Albeit a poorly planned one. We simply called it a revolt because it was convenient, as if doing so somehow changed the fact. And so instead of dealing with the problem we simply set it aside and will continue to do so until it gets so bad we can no longer ignore it.”

He let out a long sigh before saying “I suppose we’ll just have to bid our time as well and let the OSI do its job. The Eiclens will eventually show their hand, let’s just hope that they do so before they are ready.” He let out a long sigh before adding “Now I must leave. We might not be able to deal with the Eiclens, but there is still some progress to be made on a number of other matters.



“The senator from Atrya has the floor” A disembodied voice said as Senator Fayyer rose to his feet. Atrya was one of many countries that made up the Confederation, but Atrya was special. Historically it had been the hegemonic power of the Nalloth homeworld for centuries and even after losing that special title was still a member of the Big Five of the Confederation. It was no surprise then that Atrya remained one of the most powerful and influential components of the Confederation. When the Atryan president or senator spoke the Confederation listened.

“Brothers and sisters” Fayyer whistled, his voice magnified so that all present could hear him speak. “In the not too distant past the Xim launched a war of extermination against a small country called Solaran Federation. Too embroiled with the Eiclen Revolts” He seemed to spit out that last part, “we failed to come to their aid. Even so the Solaran Federation fought valiantly and obtained peace, but at a steep price. When we brought the revolts to an end we failed to offer the Solaran Federation a hand of friendship and have continued to fail in our duties to our younger brothers and sisters. I move that we send a diplomatic mission to the Solaran Federation immediately with the intent to establish permanent diplomatic relations. I also would like to pursue treaties with the Solarans and other nearby civilizations with the intent to provide mutual defense against the Xim. The Xim need to be contained and I believe that the Solaran Federation will prove to be the cornerstone of the alliance necessary to do so. Thank you.” He turned his gaze to the Tribune as he ended his speak.

“Thank you Senator” Tribune Zius inclined his head towards Fayyer. “I believe you are correct. Senator Fayyer, would you care for the honor of leading the diplomatic mission to the Solaran Federation?”

“I would Tribune.”

“Very well then.” Tribune Zius paused for a moment before continuing. “You have a week to prepare.”



The light cruiser Argent, carrying Senator Fayyer and the Confederate diplomatic team, dropped out of warp on the very edge of the Kasius system and Solaran space. The heavy cruiser Warrior had accompanied Argent into the system as an escort, but it remained at the edge of the system as the light cruiser began to head into Solaran territory, all the while broadcasting that it was carrying a diplomatic mission and requesting an escort. Both ships had their weapons powered down.

On the few occasions that the Cormyrean Confederation had sought previously deployed diplomatic missions to the Federation they had been conducted in a similar fashion. The diplomatic team was always deployed on a destroyer or light cruiser and they were always escorted by a heavy cruiser. If there was anything apparently special about this particular diplomatic mission it would be the fact that Argent’s broadcasts implied that a high ranking official was present.

Cha'ki'la is'Ku'nai'rak es'Ken'ka'zu, First Governor of Ch'ak and its people, stood alone in their lavish room talking to themself. They were practicing for their upcoming speech, repeated the same phrases and body motions over and over again. Recording themself and then stepping back to watch the hologram recording of themself from all angles before starting all over again and adjusting their voice and motions until they were just perfect. For they were giving a speech addressed to the billions of Ch'ak'ii whom they had been elected to govern, and those people deserved nothing but the best Cha'ki'la could give them. But the First Governor could not practice forever, and eventually they were forced to stop nitpicking over the speech and actually get dressed. Not that it too particularly long as Cha'ki'la favoured a form of formal wear adopted from one of the Uy cultures; it was a loose robe fastened with several belts around the midsection and leaving the right half of their upper chest bare. Cha'ki'la liked it since, aside from the belts around the stomach, it was rather comfortable and roomy, and this particular garment was made of an exquisite fabric that shimmered in a rainbow of colours as the light touched it.

Cha'ki'la managed to get a few more moments of practice in as they tweaked their gestures and tone before one of the aides arrived to inform them that it was time to move. And along the way, Cha'ki'la enjoyed another look at his home; the building itself had been updated at great cost over its existence, resulting in it being the longest-inhabited structure in the world. The floor was fine carpet, and the walls were a smooth white stone. It was a place of beauty even from the inside, but it truly shined when Cha'ki'la stepped out onto the balcony to see the thronging crowd gathered below him. The First Governor's Palace had been built during the advent of gunpowder on Ka'ak, and it showed. Several massive stone walls complete with buttresses and bastions were placed at intervals along a massive hill at which the palace proper stood, and almost all available space was taken up by thronging crowds, with those farthest away having to watch from floating screens, as they were too far to see the First Governor properly. And the view from the balcony was one Cha'ki'la quite enjoyed; they could see the older historical districts of Ak'wa with their much smaller buildings, alongside the towering and shining skyscraper that made up the newer sections. It was the stark contrast of past and future that they liked, but at the moment Cha'ki'la had more important business to attend to than admiring the scenery.

"Today, I speak to all of the great people of Ch'ak. No matter who you may be, no matter what you may be, know that today I speak to you, my siblings. Yes, siblings, for are we not all the children of great Ch'ak? Whether you be T'kai or Uy, you are a child of Ch'ak, as am I. You are a child of a great civilization; of a great nation. For if there is one thing that Ch'ak is, it is most certainly great. And that is a statement I do not believe is doubted by any one of you, for who could deny it? Certainly none who live here, basking in Ch'ak's greatness day after day, could refute the fact that Ch'ak is great."

"But I worry for the future of Ch'ak, and I worry for the greatness and wellbeing of its people. Not from any threat, tangible or otherwise, in the present. But a truly adept leader does not merely look at the present, but to the future as well. And history has shown us how quickly that a great nation can crumble and fall to ruin. And so I look to the future, and I look outwards. Away from Ch'ak and towards the other great civilizations, of which we have had scant and precious contact. The Shim, the Hyu'min, the Sh'kor, the various other races of whom we know inhabit the galaxy with us but whom Ch'ak has been content to let sit alone."

"So far Ch'ak has let the outside worlds simply pass us by, alone and isolated inside Ch'ak. After all, what could we need from the outside? We receive all we need from the World Eaters and can manufacture all we require in Ch'ak itself. So what use could we have for the outside? But I believe that such an attitude is folly, for where others look to the present I am looking to the future. If we ignore the outside world, then we shall simply watch as it passes us by. They shall not stay at a distance forever, and they are more akin to the Uy empires of old. They do not sit and develop their home as we Ch'ak'ii do, but spread and multiply across the stars and eventually they shall spread to the stars close to us. And if we still know as little as we know now, I fear that Ch'ak shall remain ignorant of the outside world until it flows over us like a tidal wave and we are swallowed by it."

"But I shall not allow such a thing to pass, so I shall sow the seeds of Ch'ak's future greatness. Instead of waiting until the ocean outside washes over us and destroys all that we have built, we shall immerse ourselves in that ocean ourselves. On our terms. We shall learn of the civilizations across the great gaps of space, and we shall either make friends and allies of them or we shall steel ourselves against those who would make enemies of us. For Ch'ak is great, and I shall make certain that it stays that way long after I have passed on."

------



T't't was nervous, and for a good reason. She was a diplomat, but she never expected she would be shipped off to Gods-Know-Where to make the first proper diplomatic contact with a civilization of which little was truly known. These so-called Hyu'min were apparently of a mind similar to the Ch'ak'ii in several ways, so they were chosen as one of two targets for Ch'ak's first diplomatic missions. Which were sent not only to establish diplomatic relations, but also to discern more actual concrete information about all the various civilizations that had their homes there. And as the head diplomat, there was a heavy burden on T't't's shoulders, and it made her nervous.

She was currently pacing along a deck with an impressive view of the stars outside. The diplomat's ship itself was an unarmed civilian vessel used for the ferrying of VIPs used to the comfortable life, which at present T't't was incredibly grateful as she filled another glass with a dark blue drink as she paced back and forth along the deck. The deck itself was transparent, which was slightly disorienting at first but didn't disrupt the view. And the view was impressive; the front of the ship was a large dome covered in cameras, while the interior was covered in screens linked to the cameras that made it appear like there wasn't a barrier at all. Granted, at present the view was primarily stars since they were still on the edge of the system but T't't enjoyed it.

"You should probably calm down, Ambassador," came a deep voice from the doorway and when T't't looked back she saw Guard-Master Av'ku'sha, the leader of the Army Corpsmen personally assigned to guard T't't. They strode over to the bar and grabbed a drink, before sitting at the table nearest the Ambassador, "Have a seat and relax, it'll be a while before we arrive anywhere."

"I am relaxed," T't't responded as she changed course to circle Av'ku'sha's table, "If I had to sit down I'd just get more agitated."

Av'ku'sha laughed, "I don't think I'll ever understand you Uy, always in a rush to get nowhere."

"And you T'kai would rather sit around thinking about what to do than actually doing anything," T't't said, though it was evident from her tone that it was just good-natured ribbing.

Av'ku'sha laughed before taking a drink, "So, are you ready, Ambassador T't't?"

"Not quite yet, but as you said it'll be a while," she replied, "So I have plenty of time to fully prepare. After all, it's not everyday that something this important rests on your shoulders."

"Oh, I'm certain you will do fine. It's not like we've never met Hyu'mins before."

"There's never been anything official. No translators or easy methods of communicating that we know of," T't't sighed, "It's not going to be easy. And I hope we don't end up blown out of the sky."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Av'ku'sha said with a grin, "We have four warships-"

"Four small warships," T't't corrected.

Av'ku'sha laughed it off, "All right, four small warships guarding us. And scanners have shown that traffic is relatively light, so it doesn't seem like this is a particularly important system. If things get violent, we should be able to jump out before there's any damage."

"All right, fair enough," T't't said, "And besides, you know more about the military side of things than I do. I'll just trust your judgement."

"Well thanks for the trust," Av'ku'sha said before holding out his glass, "And could you get me another drink when you pass by?"

T't't simply laughed it off as she continued on pacing, ignoring the Guard-Master's outstretched hand. The pair of them continued on like that, having a pleasant conversation as the five ships of the diplomatic mission made its way slowly to the inhabited planet in the system. The four small warships that were escorting the much smaller diplomatic ship all had their weapons powered completely down, and the diplomatic ship was broadcasting a message of peace on as many frequencies as it could. Though considering nobody in the system spoke either T'kai or Uy it was mostly a useless gesture, and the current plan was to slow to a stop once it seemed like there were ships being sent to intercept them.

Frostbiter
In Orbit of Heilagur

The second hanger of the Frostbiter had been renovated for the research teams of the expedition. Wedged between stacks of servers and electronics were pale curtains hedged the lab spaces.
Abraham looked on tables that were already covered with scattered papers, along with other scientific paraphernalia. Walking down the improvised corridor, Abe had to weave and sidestep himself around researchers and scientists as they moved their equipment or carried their work in and around the hanger.

Abraham was heading down to the aft of the ship, towards the CDC and the offices of that section of the vessel. The rectangular shaped lift opened up on the wall of the hanger some fifty meters from him, spotting people moving in and out of it. Before he could reach it though, the heavy, clunky doors closed and sealed as the lift went up the ship. Abe's frustration quickly washed out as he patiently waited for the numbers above the horizontal doors climbed and fell again.

"Are you settled into your office Mr Var Constavos?" Asked a surprisingly casually dressed Lieutenant Tethys. Abe saw her to his side and whipped up a polite smile.
"Yes I have, it was bigger than I'd expected but it's suits my needs" Abe responded without pressing for anymore of a conversation, slipping his vision back to the lift. In the corner of his eye, Abe could still see the lieutenant standing next to him, her head turned to stare at the same numbers.

"I'm sure that this meeting won't take too long hopefully" Tethys said as they waited with more people for the elevator. "I wouldn't mind so much if the timing onboard wasn't off from Heilagur so much" Tethys continued, looking to Abraham for confirmation of some sort.
Abe raised his eyebrows. "I know what you mean, I worked on Alsis with it's forty eight hour day but you get used to it..." Abe's mind stumbled upon a thought "...Have you not been stationed off-world before Lieutenant?"

The doors of the elevator retracted back and the duo assembled into the lift that became quickly crowded. The envoy and the dispatcher were pressed shoulder to shoulder as the doors clanged shut.
"No... this will be my first assignment off-world" Lieutenant Tethys said with an honest glance to the Abe in the tight space between them.

Abe's mind gulped, suddenly a bit more nervous, though he tried to rationalise to calm down his mind.

-=-=-

The conference room was located a floor below the CDC, the ceiling curved like they were inside a giant shell. A dozen chairs surrounded a long table, though about half were filled at that point in time.
Abraham sat opposite the Lieutenant, trading small talk with the research leads beside her.
A chair away from the envoy sat Wing Commander Willow, the officer in charge of the Frostbiter's strikecraft complement. His head was shaven and was delighted in telling Abe the condition of the first hanger and how better a posting it was from his last.

"I tell ya' what though, breaking any of this shit would cost me an arm and a leg" The commander said boldly, leaning over the chair between him and Abe.
Before Abe could answer, the bulkhead into the conference room opened swiftly and the captain stepped in with a retinue of officers, everyone at the table stood up.

"Please, sit down" the captain said, a woman with her hair tied back into a tail and her uniform laden with a humble collection of medals. As the chairs scraped against the floor of the room, the captain walked over to her seat. "I hope we all are prepared to leave orbit" The military officers in the room let out a collective 'aye' while the civilian's either nodded or looked bewildered.

"Good, now you all know how important this expedition is. So this briefing is more of a meet and greet before we cast off. I don't need to tell you how dangerous it can get beyond Doctrinate space" The captain started, letting her words simmer around the table.
"I'm sure we all have our own objectives on this expedition, but we all have to share the same goal of getting everyone back safe and sound" The captain continued.

"With that said, we also have this fairly heavy briefing to get through..." the captain lifted the heavy folder placed on the table in front of her. "...hopefully, the mess will still be open by the time we finish so if you all would like to open your copies" The captain started, with junior officers handing out folders to each of the people at the table.

Arcana System
Sol Federation
The Arcana system, like many other star systems along the federation's fringes, with the exception of the Paradiso Syste of course, are mostly underdeveloped, the given name "frontier" most fitting title. Arcanis III was the only habitable world of the system, most of the planet was filled with rocky hills and mountains, with pockets of habitable grasslands, jungles and Savannah in between, forming "Oasis'" amidst this mostly cold world. Typically, a Frontier Colony world is as redundantly described, "underdeveloped", colonial settlements and urban environments are few and far between, for Arcanis III's case, there was only a total of a 1.4 Million sapient beings taking residence on the whole planet, half of which live in the Planet's Capital City of Unilos. This small, insignificant colony would play host to a rather significant event as the Ch'akii open themselves up to the Federation and to the greater community at large.

Unfortunately however, the unannounced arrival of the Ch'akii warships had sent the small colony into a panic, in the past, the Arcana system was plagued by Xim raiders during the war, and in it's aftermath, were occasionally assailed by roaming bands of pirates, the Arcanan SDF were among many that were underfunded and were limited in numbers compared to others, possessing only a small handful of old starships either dating back the war's early years or even further. Now a small fleet of alien warships of unknown origin just appear out of the blue, many fearing it is a precursor of an invasion.

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Arcana System
Deep Space

Three Cyclops-class Frigates and a Ferrymen-class transport/carrier move into an alpha formation as they advance towards the a possible position of the approaching alien ships all crews bracing for possible combat.

Deep within one of the frigates, in the CIC was the commander of the patrol group, Captain Jadasi Maku, a female Alduzr around her early thirties in human years, she was siting calmly upon her command chair, meditating, the ambient sounds of the ship's many systems blended with the crew's chatter, filling the air.

"Captain." A feminine voice called out to her over the room's intercom, it was the ship's AI program, she was commonly referred to as Oriana. "Alien vessels are in visual range." the AI stated. Captain Maku stood to attention as she became more alert, walking towards the center of the CIC, a large holo-display table. "Show me." she ordered as holographic models of the approaching alien ships begin to materialize right before her eyes, the alien vessels were a strange design, nothing she personally has seen before, add to the fact they did not seem all that welcoming. Jadasi walked over to her chair as she grabbed a small comm device attached to the arm rest, pressing down a few keys. "All ships are to be on alert." she ordered, connecting through the comm systems of all the ships in the group. "We don't know who or what we're dealing with or what their intentions even are, and we are to proceed with cau-"

"Apologies, Captain." Oriana interrupted. "But one of the vessels is emitting a broadcast signal in the system."

"Go ahead, let's hear." As orderd, the AI played the same message over and over, and to no ones surprise, it all seemed like gibberish. "It will take a considerable amount of time to decipher the language."

"Orders, Captain?" one of the an bridge officers asked, the others turning their eyes onto the captain.

"As I said before, proceed with caution, have weapons ready in case this gets ugly." she paused a moment before giving another order. "Oriana, open channels with our "guests", hopefully they have a better time understanding us."

"You're all clear, ma'am."

Jadasi begun to clear her throat, taking a deep breath and proceeded to speak. "Attention unidentified craft, this is Captain Maku of the USS Guard Post, state your business in Federation Space or you will be met with force if necessary."

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Kasius System
Unlike such worlds like Arcanis III and New Columbia, Kasius was a sort of middle ground between underdeveloped and highly developed. A good portion of the planets has been settled by a variety of colonists, however, most of it has yet to be touched by man or whatever lives upon this world. It was far better off then worlds like Arcanis III, but far from perfect from Worlds such as New Columbia. Nonetheless, Kasius, like the previous two mentioned, would have very important visitors arriving very soon. The Federation was alerted ahead of time that the Diplomatic Delegation from the Cormyrean Confederation would arrive to this very system, a location had been decided upon between the two for the summit, the Space Station Vigilant, in high orbit of Kasius.

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Planet of Kasius, High Orbit
Space Station Vigilant
Hanger Bay Alpha-01

A large crowd had begun to developed in the Hanger as members of local and interstellar media had gathered for this event, camra drones zooming about as the Cormyrean fleet could visibly be seen outside of the station's plasma shields. In front of the large crowd was Ambassador Joshua Winston, along with his bodyguards, Joshua a tanned man in his late forties, wearing his personal diplomatic attire, a blue suit with a golden strip over his chest area and a white coat hung in similar fashion like a cap.

From outside, several small craft had emerged from the Confederate Fleet, a shuttle escorted by two fighter craft, the small group were quickly approaching the hanger bay, within mere moments, the three ships had passed though the plasma shielding encasing the sace station, making their landing in front of the media, drones recording every moment. The boarding ramp of the shuttle lowered down as Senator Fayyer and his team had emerged from the shuttle. "Senator!" Joshua exclaimed with excitement. "Allow me to welcome you to Vigilant. Let this hopefully be the first step in a good friendship between our nations!"

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New Columbia, High Orbit
A Navy vessel, an Independence-class Cruiser, the appropriately-named USS Columbia was on cruising approach to the Commonwealth Cruiser Anna Karenina, and within ten minutes were aligned to their broadside. Moments later, the Ambassador's shuttle had departed from underneath the federation cruiser and proceeded to cruise towards the hanger bay of the Commonwealth vessel.

Senator Fayyer perked up as the human ambassador spoke to him. To the Nalloth all humans looked and sounded the same; one was essentially indistinguishable from the next. Thankfully his cyberware and 'personal intelligence' AI kept track of the identities of humans, and other races, and automatically translated what they were saying.

The senator descended the ramp of his shuttle, flanked on either side by a pair of guards outfitted in what the humans could only describe as a mix between a black suit and combat uniform fitted to a spider. Fayyer himself wore a navy blue 'suit' that covered the entirety of his body below his collar bone.

As he approached Ambassador Joshua he held up a tablet that had an emotion or tone followed by a sentence. "-neutral- This will translate what I say until our systems have a better translation system installed." A moment later a new sentence appeared. "-Delighted- I thank you for your welcome and too hope that this is the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship."

The Ambassador clasped his hands together in a positive matter and a grin. "Very good, very good!" He replied. "Let's not keep the others waiting. Follow me." he made some hand gestures towards his guards as they turned and cleared away the crowd, allowing passage for the Ambassador and Confederate Delegates. Cameras still recording every moment as they departed the hanger bay for the conference room just a level above.

“-Inquisitive- Are your news tellers acting like normal?” Fayyer asked, his translation software clearly having a bit of trouble. He held his hand up towards the crowd, similar to a human wave, except his hand didn’t move and was tiled back slightly so his palm was facing upwards. He held his hand up until the crow was behind them before lowering it.

“-Inquisitive- Who are the ‘others’? -Tentatively- Your government officials are elected. Correct?” His eyes seemed to roam the hallways of the station as they walked. Most of the time each of his four eyes were looking in a different direction, but occasionally the Nalloth would focus all four on an object of particular interest. After a few moments he added “-Complement- This station is well designed.”

"Well, to answer your first question, we rarely had much contact with your people, even after the war. For you to come forward to us like this is interesting, your people are the few civilizations to cross our path that...were not like the Xim." the group continued down the wide and semi-crowded halls, civilian onlookers taking notice of the group of Nalloth present. "We're quite alone in this corner of the universe, and what allies that can be found in such a hostile starscape is much welcomed." the group paused, stepping onto a moving walkway, giving their legs a break as the machine guided them to their destination.

"As for who will also be attending, well the higher ups at Earth have sent their own delegation to witness this little event, make this officially recognized by all the Federation, and yes, we do elect our officials, quite similar to you." Before long, the walkway came to an end as the elevators were in sight, the group approaching one of the larger elevators, stepping in. One of the guards pressed down the button leading to the Conference Hall. "Yes, the station is quite nice, she's stood strong for over three decades."

“-Sad- Our ancestors once felt the same way Little Brother.” Fayyer did not provide any reason why for he or his translation software referred to Joshua as Little Brother, nor did he give any indication as to why the words had been capitalized. “-Sad- When they looked up at the skies they felt nothing but dread for what they felt was their impending doom. -Serene- It was only after they had committed themselves to saving others from that same impending doom that they managed to save themselves. -Hopeful- I believe your time has come.”

"We can only pray for such a time." Joshua said as the group had finally arrived. Two guards stood at attention by the doors, the doors sliding open as they entered the brightly lit room, a large round table laying at the center with over a dozen chairs set up, on one corner of the table were the Earth Delegation. "Gentlemen, Ladies, welcome." Joshua said to the delegates. He slid to right as he revealed the Nalloth. "May I present to you the Cormyrean Confederation's Delegation."

The lead man of the Earth Delegates stood up and approached the Senator, extending his hand out toward the Nalloth. "A Pleasure to meet you, sir." he said respectfully. "We came quite a distance on behalf of the President and the Senate. My name is Willam Hanes."

"-Respectful- The pleasure is mine. I am Senator Fayyer of the Cormyrean Confederation." He tiled his head to the side as he looked at William's hand. After a moment he added. "-Embarrassed- I must confess that I do not understand the meaning behind you holding your hand out."

The question let out some chuckles from the federation delegates and guards. Willam letting out a deep laugh. "Hah! My mistake, this is what we call a "handshake", it's a general sign of friendly greetings from one being to another."

"-Amused- Little Brothers and Sisters are @$#*^%&@*%... -Unable to find translation. Conducting search of human dictionaries-" Fayyer seemed to be either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge how badly his translation software had just failed him. Instead he placed his table down on the table before slowly reaching out and rather daintily placing his hand on William's.

The old man humored the Nalloth, shaking his hand, but couldn’t help but let out a small fit of laughter, along with the rest. "No need to feel ashamed my friend!" he said. We'll eventually figured each other out in the long run." He paused once they loosened their grip of each other's hand, Willam clearing his throat. "Now, onto other matters. From what we were told, your government wishes to reach out to the Federation?"

"-Agreement- Correct! We of the Confederate Senate have come to the consensus that it is past time we have offered you a hand of friendship. The Tribune has tasked me with overseeing the development of permanent diplomatic relations between our two countries. -Shame- We should have come to your aid when the Xim invaded, but used the Eiclen Revolts as an excuse not to." Fayyer bowed his head for a moment before seeming to perk up again. "-Upbeat- But now we are ready to help our brothers and sisters in the Solaran Federation."

"No need to apologize, despite the losses, we stood strong in the face of a vastly superior threat. And I, and others who have come as official representatives of the Federation Central Government, will very much gladly accept your offer of friendship. Our first step of course will require an official document." He paused once more and turned to a nearby assistant, a Dathu, the large furry creature stepped forward as it presented a small case, opening it to reveal a piece of paper with several ink pens to its left. The Dathu placed the case onto the table and stood back as Willam stepped forward. "With this Treaty, we can cement our Alliance." He picked up one of the pens and handed it over to Fayyer, assuming he knew how to use one.

Fayyer took the offered pen, his eyes quickly scanning over the contents of the treaty as he spun the pen in his hand. After a few moments he brought the pen down onto the paper and marked it with a variety straight and curved lines that looked similar to written Japanese or Chinese characters. He looked over the treaty a second time before stepping back so Williams could sign it as well.

Willam followed suit, wrote down on the treaty to finalize it all, a small camera hovers around the group, recording every moment of the signing. "And that's that." Willam said, putting down the pen. "And footage has been saved as well, On behalf of the Federation, we thank for this, I see good things for us in the future." Willam was silent for a moment, until his curiosity got the better of him. "Although I would like ask you something. Why refer to us as your younger sibling?"

"I was sort of wondering as well." Joshua said. "But, Didn't want to seem rude."

Fayyer tilted his head to the side as he answered "-Amused- Because Little Brother is Little Brother." He let that answer hang for a moment before seeming to realize that he hadn't actually answered the question. "Upbeat- We are all offspring of the living stars. Therefore, we are all brothers and sisters. Even the Xruusk and Xim are our siblings, pitiful as they may be."

Willam rubbed his chin and pondered for a moment, "Seems understandable. An interesting perspective on the universe and its living things."

"-Amusement- It is the best perspective" Fayyer commented. "-Serious- We will be setting up an embassy at your capital soon and will engage on comprehensive talks in regards to defense. I must make it clear now that we will not support offensive wars against the Xim, nor will the Confederation allow the Xim to become the victims of genocide even should they themselves start a war. Is this understood and acceptable?"

Genocide, a very unpleasant word, yet...to apply it to the Xim wouldn't make Willam's heart heavy, he personally wouldn't actively seek it, but it were to be a natural consequence, he wouldn't shed a single tear of remorse. But, he won't let his personal feelings towards the Xim ruin a chance of an alliance. "These are...agreeable terms." Willaim replied with a small hint of doubt in his tone.

"-Neutral- Independent member-states of the Confederation may be willing to negotiate different terms, but the Confederation as a whole will not be compelled to honor the commitments made by an independent member-state." He paused for a moment before adding "-Amused- The next time we speak I may be representing my homeland Atrya instead of the Confederation as a whole."

"Very well, until we meet again, friend." Willam said, extending his hand out once again. "May peace be everlasting."

As Fayyer reached for William's hand, his personal intelligence AI informed him that it had gathered enough data from the humans had had been speaking to attempt vocal real time translations. He felt a sense of amusement as instead of a written response his tablet 'spoke' the words "And may the Living Stars watch over you and all your kin" in warm tones. "We shall meet again Little Brother."



After finishing the conference Senator Fayyer left behind a small diplomatic team as he boarded the shuttle that would take him back to the light cruiser Argent. The diplomatic team would travel back to Earth with the Federation delegates to begin the process of opening an embassy. Meanwhile Fayyer had his own work back in the Confederation to see to.

The shuttle docked with Argent, the Confederate light cruiser began to head out of the system towards its heavy cruiser escort. All seemed well until it reached the halfway point between the human space station and nalloth heavy cruiser.

Argent seemed to shake before its thrusters shut down. It seemed to just drift in space for a moment before an explosion almost tore the light cruiser in half. The force of the explosion warped the cruiser into a ‘C’ shape, with only a small part of its structure holding its front and back parts together. As escape pods began spitting forth from the wrecked light cruiser it was shook by a second explosion. This one far larger than the first and utterly destroying the front section of the ship.

The second explosion had thrown debris into the space around the Argent wreck. Some of the escape pods endured what could only be described as a light shower of metal shards. Most of these metal shards simply bounced off the pods, although a few either pierced through the pods or tore off an important piece of equipment on the pods’ outside. Those were the lucky escape pods. Others found themselves close enough to the wreck at the time of the explosion to have been obliterated by the explosion itself. Others were struck by large pieces of the ship, some larger than the pods themselves, moving at high speeds. Of those pods there was little left.

The Confederate heavy cruiser, having seen all of this occur, began powering up its weapons systems as it moved into the system towards what remained of the Argent.

Kasius, High Orbit
Space Station Vigilant
Screams of panic filled the air as the Senator's cruiser shattered in two, the fragments colliding with the station's shields. The Earth Delegation had followed the senator to the hanger bay to see him off, only to witness the horror of his ship engulfed in a fiery blaze of light. Joshua, along with the Earth and Confederate Delegations, as well as many bystanders looked upon in sheer terror and grief as they saw this terrible event unfold, many civilian vessels were in the vicinity of the explosion, and were caught in the blast. "Oh my God..." Joshua muttered to himself, all the while marines and rescue servicemen begun rushing out from the hallway behind them as they boarded their ships. A Marine Captain, a woman around the same age as Joshua had stepped in front of the group, few who were still in shock. "I need everyone to clear the hanger now! This is a Level Five Emergency!"

"Yes...yes..you're right..I apologize" Joshua continued to mutter to himself, he and the others clearing out of the hanger.

The Marine Captain turned her attention back to the chaotic scene outside in the void as Rescue and Marine Shuttles begun departing the Hanger, one Ranger-class shuttle was left on stand by, a squad of marines loaded up and waiting for their Captain, she begun walking towards the craft as he placed two fingers over the left side of her ear. "Captain Ramirez to Angel Company, rescue mission is a go."

RCNS Anna Karenina
New Columbia High Orbit

Under the pretense that it’s port-side hangars were all busy at the moment, Anna Karenina’s landing control directed the ambassador’s shuttle on a sweeping detour to a starboard hangar. Their approach took them around the bow of the Commonwealth battlecruiser, past the enormous hatches that concealed her axial superlaser arrays, then around her starboard broadside and the rows of railguns and missile tubes, then down towards an upper hangar, just close enough to catch a glimpse of the dorsal gamma laser turrets, crouched and inactive like sleeping dogs.

The UFS delegation was greeted by Ribbentrop and Captain Wellesley with great ceremony, then whisked off on a brief tour of the ship, then down to the diplomatic stateroom where a small reception had been whipped together seemingly out of nowhere. There was food, drink, even a string quartet and a large crystal sculpture of the UFS sigil. Where exactly such things had come from aboard a warship was anyone’s guess, but there they were. There weren’t all that many guests; the rest of the Vit’azny diplomatic delegation, a few off duty senior officers, and a scattering of civilian specialists who happened to be on the ship.

Captain Wellesley excused himself back to the bridge after a while, while Ribbentrop chatted with the UFS Ambassador. The Commonwealth and the UFS had shared borders for years, and the quality of available translation software was quite good. Despite not speaking the same language, Ribbentrop and the ambassador were able to converse quite easily with their in-ear translator devices. As the reception began to wind down, Ribbentrop decided enough time had passed to broach the topic of why they were there.
“Ambassador,” he began, “I’ve certainly enjoyed learning more about you and the Federation. I think it’s time we got down to business, if you’ll pardon my bluntness.”

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Captain Wellesley tapped his fingers along his chair idly. Hopefully things in the stateroom were proceeding well. Ribbentrop was certainly a capable diplomat, so Wellesley wasn’t particularly worried. A disturbance on the main holotank caught his attention. Wellesley glanced up, noting a number of white icons that had appeared at the edge of the system. He frowned. “Clear civilian traffic off the display,” he called out. Much of the clutter on the display winked out, letting him get a better look at the white icons. CIC evidently still couldn’t identify them, but gravitic sensors gave an idea of the mass and position of the signatures. They were larger than most signatures around the system, and arranged in formation. Wellesley felt the fur on the nape of his neck bristle. He opened an interior channel.
“CIC, Bridge here. What’s the holdup on the unknowns at the system’s edge?”
“Gravitics are still analysing the signatures. At the moment we believe it’s a Federation patrol; we’re waiting to hear back from New Columbia traffic control.”
“Understood.” Wellesley closed the channel.

Half a minute or so passed as Wellesley continued to frown at the display. Suddenly, the signatures flickered orange. Wellesley swore, and began issuing a stream of orders.
“Sound general quarters throughout the ship, battle stations! Helm, bring the IDC to full power, evasive maneuvers, as far as we know there are already missiles closing on the ship. Comms, request access to the Federation tactical net, I don’t want us shooting eachother by mistake. Tactical, load missile tubes with long range cruise missiles and interceptors, half and half. Look lively people, we have company!”