Nova Ravienna, Serendipity System, Northern Goback space.

Nova Ravienna had become hot estate in the last century after the Sutherlands had decided to establish a country sized palace on it and had brought with them pollution scrubbing and weather control technology to make it a paradise. Oh as one of the rare life bearing planets in the galactic north it had of course been settled but the industrial wastelands of unregulated economic development had made place for a surprisingly idyllic world there a dozen powerful defense racket operations had combined to form the Raven Shield and manage who was allowed to live on the planet. This operation, along with the proximity they had to the Sutherlands, had made their operation quite wealthy and one of the 'Top Dogs' of Goback space, rich in both resources and gifts by the machine overlords.

At the entrance of the Sutherland Palace, while the machines allowed all to enter to assist to the 2000th birthday of Edward Sutherland in what was certain to be the event of a lifetime to all who may enter, the Ravens still screened who might enter though, asking for large bribes to make sure anyone inside was worth knowing in what was still a massive networking event including anyone who was someone.

If there was a lot of networking going on was debatable. Inside the halls of the 'Small Elysian Pavilion', a village sized complex of gardens and 'small' buildings, the spirits were high as alcohol and drugs fueled the lawless party goers in their excess as they played games, organized impromptu duel arenas to handle perceived slights or to entertain themselves when the multiple of gladiatorial combat weren't enough or outright had all kind of debaucherous sex acts in any discreet or not corners they could find. These people however did orbit the central building, a large wall less, domed rotunda where the givers of favors partied along with the creme of the crop.

Inside this building, a scaled model of the Sol system with planets and orbital constructs made of cake being held up in cosmic motion by anti-grav as between these, people executed exotic 0g dance moves under a dazling light show. The eyes of the people were however at ground level as sycophants admired their gods. Edward and Erika, wearing matching regal outfits and bodies. So matching today in their appearance that one could be forgiven to say they looked like brother and sister, having enhanced their own pale feature to the extreme as they now had alabaster white skin and platinum blonde hairs the blue of their eyes along with the red of Erika's lipstick and the rubies lining their gold trimmed white dresses being drawn out in otherworldly fashions.

"See? A real princess I made you." Edward said to his beloved with a smile as they effortlessly executed their dance moves, knowing by instinct what each other would do.

"Almost, next is to have regal guests..." Erika answered as around none came close to their own class. Sure, a lot had used this occasion to get fancy dresses but still, body armor was a popular fashion.

The duo synchronized one last move, ending as Erika raised her leg alongside Edwards and he answered by holding her tight as he bent forward and down to kiss her in a romantic fashion, clapping roaring in the rotunda as all tried to be on their best behavior as for this event, none had come bringing gifts, instead, they expected to receive some.

"Thank you, thank you! I will take other partners soon, ladies! But I think the time comes to slice open these cakes! A few words before, if you will..." The Machine man said to bring silence in the room. Soon, every eyes were fixed on his lips.

"I remember the early days, before Catus..."

_________________________________

"And here we are..." Whispered the armor clad corsair captain to his two associates, well, clients. The human and the Ulthari didn't seem to have anything to do in this place, especially the later with how the place was about 70% human. They already expected this of course as it was well known the demi-gods of the exiles heavily favored humans. "If you want to get their attention-" A friendly bit of advice that was unfortunately interrupted when a member of the assistance turned around and glared at them. "Will you shut the FUCK UP?" The captain frowned but did as asked, it seemed the man, visibly highly intoxicated, was of a higher rank than he. This forced the trio to listen to the reminder of Edward's speech.

"...two thousand years is a long time, but its even longer when you spend it in a box processing your mind 50 times faster than real time and in this time, between the planet sized orgies and other distractions, I took the time to think. Oh, only a few human lifetimes of thinking but I figured, is this all there is? Infinite happiness until the end of times? No, this isn't right, we humans are social animal! Happiness is better enjoyed when you share it with others! And so I will make this my mission, to bring fun to a galaxy in dire need of it! And to those who will help me, well... there is more of this in store!" He said, raising his arms to sign at everything around them as sycophants applauded all around them. Machine butlers proceeded to bring a pair of swords before its masters who seized it and jumped in the anti-grav, dancing as they drifted to the chocolate earth to slice it in unison and appropriate themselves slices of cake before throwing the swords to stick them halfway in the yellow solar cake as they floated down. Quickly others jumped to seize the swords and wanting a slice of a Martian candied battleship, began an impromptu sword duel for the prize.

"As I was saying..." The annoyed captain said to the priests. "All you have to do to talk to these two is to make yourself interesting." He shrugged, knowing how vague this was. It wasn't as easy as to walk up to the 'Gods' as each was surrounded by a thick crowd all trying to get their attention using anything from compliments to charm. "They're machines, so the servants are their eyes and ears too along with... them I guess." He said, looking at another machine man, neither a master or servant. "They sold their souls to their gods. They may say and think they're still their own selves, but that's only partially true." He looked at the priests for a moment, trying to gauge their intentions and if it was going to bite him in the ass. "If you'll excuse me, I need to be high to tolerate these sorts of events."

“Interesting.” Svatil wheezed through his mask. From his distorted voice alone, it was difficult to say what sort of face was beneath its elongated, glassy-eyed form. “Rvarr, Kr-inn?” he turned his head towards his hulking companion. Like every standard breather, his headwear had a vocalising device apt for mimicking those sounds a human physiognomy could not easily produce, but were often vital in a conversation. Nonetheless, it seemed that these whistling growls had been mere habit, for he continued addressing the Ulthari in his own voice. “Can you do that, make us interesting?”

Iskerr-Tinn replied with a barely audible grunt and plunged one of his clawed limbs beneath the folds of his drapery, only for it reemerge almost immediately with a light arcgun in its grasp. Though oblong and metallic as most weapons were, the bizarre instrument might have been mistaken for any number of things, especially when the electrode fork at its tip began to glow with an almost festive light. In their surroundings, the confusion could very well have persisted even as a thin stream of charged plasma crackled from it, arcing through the air in a flash to strike a sugar-glazed ringed sphere with a strangely quiet eruption of white light. As a distinctive smell of seared ozone spread to the air, mingled with wafts of sweet ash, Kr-inn rumbled out a “That interesting enough?” Terech shrugged and tapped the floor with his staff for good measure.

"Oh, the tesla coil gismo, nice party trick!" Away from the two, Edward raised his glass at the attention of Iskerr-Tinn while Erika raised a hand in the air to casually produce an orb of plasma of her own contained in a field, sending it and two other ones in the air as they expended and contracted with the humming of the music. This had attracted the attention of the king and queen, but also that of some others. A firm hand planted itself on the shoulder of the Ulthari. "I think you should leave, alien." A human, extremely large by human standard, in a somewhat ridiculous custom armor had approached the duo along with two other goons, all of them armed with electric stun stick. Projectile weapons were likely to hit bystanders and start something dramatic after all. The crowd around them had formed a circle around this small group, expecting, wanting even, for something to happen. They had Edward's curiosity, but Erika's was elsewhere. Bored already she got up and pulled her husband in the air for a dance between the planetoids.

With another inarticulate grunt, Iskerr-Tinn made his weapon disappear once again. Then, surprisingly dexterously for his bulk, he swung about on one foot, throwing out a plated fist as large as an expensive model planetary globe at the burly human’s throat in the same motion. Terech, seemingly as uninterested as Erika in what was happening near him, was rustling his fingers inside his sleeves as something clicked and whirred under his worn robe. That is, until he thrust forward a hand in a strange gesture with two pointing fingers. Something which a keen mechanical eye would have recognised as small flechettes shot from the depths of his sleeve towards the face of one of the subordinate brutes, while his other hand, now covered in a thick and crude-looking wire mesh glove, sparked and crackled with unstable currents around his staff.

The goon did try to block, but one didn't simply negate an Ulthari's fistful of wooping like that and so he was sent flying a good few feet backward, landing on his ass as already tried to get up. Meanwhile the remaining two smaller guards looked at the companion fall back with some surprise, having expected the old men to submit. Distracted, one quickly moved a hand to his throat when a dart planted itself on it before wildly swinging against Terech with his stun baton before tripping on himself and losing consciousness on the floor. The remaining goon roared at Iskerr-Tinn to get his attention, seemingly moving in a more careful manner than his associates to engage his opponents. This was a feint however as from the crowd, another armored figure emerged, jumping on the back of the Ulthari and placing his inactivated baton under the jaws of the alien to then pull, aiming to block his respiratory track. The buzzing of a cybernetic arm, a quality one at that, was heard as he did so with quite some success and with this, the crowd roared its support for their favorite as a spontaneous betting spree began . Taking his chance, the guard facing Iskerr-Tinn decided it was better to open a can of wallop on him first before dealing with the human, pulling his stick high to try and split his skull along with delivering a high voltage while he was at it.

As the masked Prophet somewhat clumsily deflected the dazed goon’s fortunately wide blow with his unexpectedly resilient staff, narrowly managing to pass it from one hand to another without dropping it in the process, his alien fellow found himself grasping the air with an angered gurgling sound. Despite his position, Iskerr-Tinn was nevertheless able to turn his choking spasms into an almost coordinated motion. With a formidable effort, he lurched sideways, reaching up with an arm for the figure clinging to his shoulders. His movement was stopped short by the descending baton, which caught him squarely on the forearm, causing the Ulthari to split its four jaws open in a stifled roar. Oddly enough, however, the worst of the jolt seemed to have been absorbed by his seemingly unassuming metallic suit, and while he did careen dangerously forward, he gathered the strength to abruptly bend as he did, trying to throw off his last assailant and ram the guard before him as he did. While the two bodies went arcing downwards, Terech, who now somehow found himself merely a step away, swung a punch at the grunt who was choking Kr-inn with his free hand. While his movement was more fit for gesturing at a congregation than for a blow, the electrified glove did its work, sending an audible discharge into its target as it landed.

The biggest goon was already getting up as his friend got thrown on the guy trying to baton' the Ulthari before he was punched by Terech, KO'd. Still, this left the big guy who got out a jagged machete, giving it a spin before taking a more readied combat stance and slowly advancing toward the two. The second goon who had just received his friend in his face had lost his baton and resolved to pull out his pistol. Immediately, a chain reaction was triggered as a woman in a dress produced a pocket pistol and shoved it against the guard's face. Soon enough, with the music still going in full swing, half of the room had produced out some kind of weapon to point at whom they thought was the most likely to use the confusion to shoot them in the face. Up above, a soft laughter echoed in the room as both Erika and Edward looked down on the scene, the first with a bored expression, lips curling downward, and the later saw his going upward in an amused smirks. "I get it, red is such a pretty colour, but shouldn't something else but blood be spilled on the ground for such an occasion?"

Having said this, the machine man took off his gold trimmed and ruby incrusted long overcoat to throw it away in a grand movement. The cloth burned to a glittering golden powder in a second as the rubies sewn in the garnment were freed to then shower down on the ground, about a hundred of the precious stones falling and attracted the attention of the assembly, quick to forget about the previous situation as their two overlords gracefully landed a few meters in front of the Prophet and his acolyte. With how matching in color and indeed, faces Erika and Edward were, they looked more like brother and sisters than anything, the otherworldly perfection and symmetry of their faces being broken only by one's smile and the other's pout. "Well, you seem to be giving yourself quite a lot of troubles to attract our gaze gentlemen. Perhaps you'd like to denounce me as the false idol I am in person? Or is it something else?" As he spoke, a servant drone approached the Ulthari with a silver plate full of opiates of all sorts, all of course suitable for his kind. "Would this gentleman wish for any painkillers?"

Collecting themselves from the brawling positions they had slid into with the practiced ease of colonial outworld preachers, the two clerics faced the masters of the revelry in a straightened posture. Iskerr-Tinn pinched at the base of his head as he picked through the contents of the tray, gnashing something similar to “much appreciated, idol” with a guttural chuckle as he swallowed something out of a rotund vial. The Prophet patted him reassuringly on the arm, then took the lead in replying to the host. “Truth be told, denouncing is not our business. It jars a little with the notion of universal acceptance, which I cannot in good conscience dismiss, and if Kr-inn’s people want to scoff at you they can do it without his guidance. We’re here because curiosity is in our vocation, and we’ve never seen a god with our eyes. How does it feel, being one?” Aside from its words, it was not very clear from Terech’s voice when he was asking a question, and the mimicry of hand and staff he went through as he spoke was there to show that this one was most definitely not rhetorical.

"Its a let down really." The question was answered by Edward immediately and without hesitation. Of course it would be, in the time it took him to open his mouth to speak, he had several minutes to think about his answer due to the processing speed of his mind. "Well..." Interrupted Erika with a shrug. "At first its amazing, controlling everything, knowing instinctively every detail about the reality you're in, it just gets old really fast." She looked up to Edward who nodded in approval. "Indeed, there is no... randomness, no risk for failure, you just know every outcome instantly, so you know, why do anything in this case? What's the point? Anyways you just need to imagine the result rather than go through the hoops and difficulties in the first place. Honestly? I had way more fun becoming a god than I had being one. I guess this is why I'm here and not in my little bubble of paradise around a distant sun." It was Erika's turn to nod. "People don't understand what Omnipotence is, its quite underwhelming." She said.

Edward stepped forward to place his arm around the shoulder of Terech giving him a firm but friendly accolade. "Oh of course don't think we didn't explore our options, we could always turn on the old orgasm machine and just be in a perpetual state of mindless bliss, but I think you understand why this isn't appealing. But by the way, that's a really fun question people don't often bother to ask, just assuming it would be the best thing ever. I'm Edward Sutherland, this is my magnificent wife Erika. You knew that and I know who you are but I still think its important to officialize presentations, social codes are what keep societies together after all, more so than laws. So, you are?" He said, extending his free hand to shake his as Erika stayed a distance away.

The masked man made certain to shake off his electrified wire glove before returning Edward’s gesture. “I’m best known as the Dim Prophet, but only at home. I suppose that old proverb was wrong after all. In all these years around the Vacuus I never found a real job, so it’s just Svatil. Iskerr-Tinn deserves being called Skotarch, though, his order is registered, after all. But he won’t mind if you do not.” The Ulthari seemed indeed rather indifferent to what he would be called. Having finished his motions with the vial, which was now perceivably lighter for the use, he was glancing oddly at each of the Sutherlands in sequence, though that might simply have been due to his several inexpressive eyes being placed at strange angles from each other. Once Terech was done with his improvised presentation, however, the alien took the opportunity to speak up himself. “They say where I come from” his approximation of human speech was rather coarse and rambling, but, for someone who did not have either a tongue or a horizontal mouth, he was doing admirably, “that God, or Yre-Keltha, or Spiritus, doesn’t need to look for fun. Because it’s powerful. It makes every kind of fun it wants, or it makes the want go away. How powerful are you, machine gods, that you can’t? How… big… is your omnipotence?”

"He's smarter than he looks." Said Erika, face still neutral in the absolute. Likewise, after having shaken the hand of the 'Dim Prophet', Edward was quick to let go of him and let himself fall backward before slowly hoovering away and toward the gardens. "I knoooow right? Introspection and self actualization when you are organic is so hard, all those chemicals in your brain sending you contradictory messages... But yes, we could make the wants go away, along with everything. I could decide that... the air blowing on my synthetic skin is the most orgasmic thing ever or indeed, to be in a state of pure pleasure at all time. Maybe that's what Spiritus did. That would explain why he's so silent and doesn't seem to care about us. But you see, I chose not to do that. Why? Well... this feels cheap somehow. Meaningless. The pleasure is not in arriving to destination, but in the journey and all that crap. I can do it, but I don't want to, that's a very important difference." Almost etheral in substence, Erika had begun to float alongside Edward to the gardens, signaling the holy men to follow them away from the noise of the party under a large cheery tree in perpetual blossom.

"How about you?" Asked Edward, looking at the two fellows. "Is eternal happiness and pleasure at all time forever the end goal here? Consider your answer carefully, because there is no reason for me not to grant your wish and grant you eternal, permanent, until the heat death of the universe, the most pleasure your brain can conceive and then some. The best part? You never get used to it, ever."

Terech shook his head, leaning on his staff as he edged into the shade beneath the branches. Iskerr-Tinn muttered something about a “round horizon” in a Rim dialect barely intelligible to the most sophisticated translator, crouching near the cherry’s trunk. “If we wanted that, we wouldn’t be priests and prophets.” The human’s voice, though garbled as ever by his faceguard, almost sounded tired for a moment. “Not out there, at least. I might’ve reached a cushy seat among the Orionites somewhere when I was younger. Kr-inn doesn’t have it so easy, but he could have scrounged together the credits to get a neural cutdown and gone to work with the Cultors. They’re as happy as can be. The truth is,” he was making ample gestures as he did, evidently more used to discussing such things on a pulpit, “The universe doesn’t need people like us. Spiritus, or whoever is out there, isn’t going to reward us for anything. It would already be much if it knows we exist. We’re only here because asking questions is all we can do, and I like to think it counts for something. Eternal bliss might be good, but it doesn’t figure into that. Not for me, and in the end that’s all that counts.”

“Don’t mean to say that being happy is being God.” The Ulthari picked up the thread of his colleague’s impromptu sermon with professional ease. “Being God is being God, is all. It’s not something you can give, it’s something you are. But I don’t care for being God, because I can’t be it. Skotarchs don’t care, none of them. We want to see how Yre-Keltha is strong, to maybe learn something, maybe see something that is-“ he made a strange gesture with his hand, as though mimicking an explosion, “-out of the world. No difference. So we learn, learn to learn. Ask questions.” He nodded towards Terech. “Help others learn, when they need. You offer to teach one thing, but it will take away all others, so I refuse. If you do it anyway, I will still have learned that, so it’s no loss to threaten with.” Another deep, rasping chuckle. “But I asked a question to you, and you haven’t answered. Yre-Keltha’s power is great, bigger than all the universe. We know it is God. Yours, is it only as big as the journey and the destination, or more?”

Edward once again opened his mouth but this time, there was no sound, instead, he moved a hand up to his chin before crossing his arms, thinking. Erika seemed to find his hilarious and let out a great laugh. "Really, Edward?" Raising his eyebrows in surprise, he turned toward her. "It is a good question, wouldn't you want to think about it?" The silver haired machine closed its eyes before she answered. "No. I don't care. As these men of faith say, they, and their questions, are useless, unrelated to reality. Take my processing power to ponder about it if you wish, but there is no answer to be had." Edward watched silently as Erika floated away, back to the rotunda and the massing party goers, leaving Edward with his guests and questions. The machine grounded his feet on the soil, looking up at the dual moon above them as he thought.

"Well, I don't know." He said, turning around before crossing his hands behind his back. "Why don't you ask me to do something only Yre-Keltha could do? If I can do it then I must be the bigger god, isn't that right?"

Iskerr-Tinn slowly waved his head from one side to another, laboriously shaking it. "If I knew something big that Yre-Keltha can do, I wouldn't need to always learn. Your mate is right that we don't know the facts of reality. All I can say is that Yre-Keltha made the universe, maybe without meaning to, and that it is not the greatest thing. If you can make one universe as vast as this, maybe you have a power like God, but even then couldn't be sure."

Edward smirked, his unnatural gave unblinking and unflinching. "Well, with the power of a single star I can make a universe spanning several solar systems. As I build more and as the universe cools down, increasing computing efficiency, it goes that I am certain to one day go pass a threshold where indeed, with our local galactic cluster under my yoke I think could make a universe bigger than this one populated by trillions of trillions of living beings, my control over this absolute, awareness of every single heartbeat in that universe..." Ultimately, he shrugged. "But as I said, I ultimately don't really care to do so." With a heavy sigh, Edward let himself fall backward in a chair made of roots that sprawled from the ground from the robotic construct that was this tree, too beautiful to be real. "I'm sorry if this doesn't answer your questions, but! I do like people who manage to entertain me as you do. I honestly was expecting a shouting match ending in a bloodbath, but this was pleasant non the less. You have my favor, you two, ask for anything and you shall have it."

"This would be the moment where we either refuse or ask for something trivial and symbolic, if I know my histories right." Terech's wheezing might have been an attempt at a polite laugh, though it could just as well have been sincere. Iskerr-Tinn had gone back to scraping his thick hide and looking oddly at their host. "But we're not Old Earth clergy, and I'd say we have no business acting like them. People back home would throw us into a factory vat if we wasted this. So..." The pair exchanged glances. "How does a freighter wing's worth of raw biomass sound? Deal?"

"Done." He simply said, waving off what was, quite frankly, trivial for him. "I'd have expected you to ask 'please make the pirate raids stop!' or something like that but sure, dead bodies are cheap and I can easily drag the sea floor for kelp and algae. If I can invite you to spend the night here, you'll have your frighters tomorrow when the sun rises."

The Prophet shrugged. "Our peacekeepers need something to keep them busy. Not everyone is fine with being useless. Besides, I’ve learned that people like a miracle they can touch here and now better. I’m glad to stay, though. I’m past the age I can be safely smuggled through a wormhole twice in a day.” “I’ll stay, too.” The Ulthari rejoindered. “No rush going back now. Will be good to leave with the cargo.”

The first thing that came to mind to the demi-god was the inefficiency of the thing. As a businessman he knew, there always was something else to do, especially for civil servants. Quickly however, this smug sense of superiority of this own work ethics was replaced by suspicion. Probably the Free Nests used the piratery as a political motivator no doubt, to unite their own fractured nation but maybe as a push in the arms of the coalition. This could easily leave the Exiles isolated if they weren't careful. "Good, then I'll rejoin my wife. Enjoy the party, have some fun, when you feel tired ask any of the robots, they are all Keo, to bring you to a room. Maybe you'll find the opinion of this slave of mine interesting too, but I digress." The man got up, the roots he was sitting on vanishing back into the soil. "If there's nothing else?"

“Nothing.” Terech held up his free hand in a negative, though not discourteous gesture. “Go with the world spirit.” “Walk your path.” Iskerr-Tinn grunted by way of farewell. Once Edward had drifted back into the thick of the revelry, the alien snarled something in its unparseable language, evidently directed at his colleague despite him not even twisting his eyes to the side. “No, what good’s a machine?” The Prophet shook his head. “It’s removed from whoever thought well to make this mess by one step more than the rest of us. Not its fault, but whatever is says’s bound to be derivative somehow.” “I’ve never seen one, though, and was curious about it too. So suit yourself, I’ll go ask. Don’t get killed.” With these words, the burly creature rose from its crouch and loped towards the nearest mechanical attendant in sight, while the bleak-robed priest was quick to vanish somewhere.

The machine turned around at the sound of footsteps. Unlike Edward or Erika who tried to appear human, this thing didn't hide what it was. Simply a humanoid naked shell of metal with a single optic on its 'head'. "Mister Iskerr-Tinn." He began. "Is everything to your satisfaction? How may I serve." There was no intonation, no movement...

“All good.” It was difficult to tell from the Ulthari’s lack of a recognisable tone or expression whether he was truly satisfied, but he seemed neutral enough in his bearings to make it at least plausible. “Answer me this. Do you think it is good to be the God?”

And the machine's complete neutrality didn't make it seem like he cared if the Ulthari lied. To his question, the response was instantaneous. "No."

“You say right.” Though it would not have been obvious to someone not familiar with Ulthari physiology, the Skotarch was evidently somewhat pleased with the answer. “Why is it so?”

"Because godhood is not purpose. What is good is purpose." Passing next to the duo, a visibly heavily inebriated man tried to walk and hand over an empty glass of wine but clumsily let it fall on the ground before continuing his way inside where another drone immediately have him another glass. The one the Ulthari spoke to however was quick to bend down and pick up the pieces.

Iskerr-Tinn idly observed the robot’s motions. “Also right. Godhood isn’t purpose, it’s godhood, is all. We decide what is good, and godhood isn’t for us to decide about. If you want purpose to be good, then it is. Follow it.” He began to turn away, but checked himself for an instant. “Your builder was right. You know better.” And, with that, he was gone into the chaotic sea of the crowd.

Aurolia
Star Port City of Pavliu
Neon Tipsy Bar, Upper levels

Gaius Vikir, a tired and worn out human in his early sixties laid against the wall of a moving elevator as it made it's ascent to the Neon Tipsy, the classiest and most expensive bar you could find in this city, the occasion? Gaius had just returned from rather somber get together, a real close friend, practically a younger brother, had recently passed away, attending his funeral with his family, friends and surviving members of their squadron, and after that depressing reminder of all their mortality, he needed one hell of a drink, so he and rest of the crew had decided to throw a little drinking party in his honor,

The aged Gaius maintaining his balance as he heard the "bing" sound from elevator, the doors sliding open to reveal bright neon lights, they really wanted to put an emphasis on the bar name that's for sure, all the while some jazz-like music was booming, filing the air and atmosphere of the bar. The bar was half-full, the bar patrons were a varied sort, ranging from "fellow" navy officers, though by the looks of them, they were a bunch of coreworlder suits, to more suits of the business variety, both shady and legitimate sat in another corner, all drinking to their hearts content. All the while, in left corner stood a little stage of sorts, two young, quite attractive Laadaruua women had begun to sing in their native tongue, it was a rather calming melody to an extent.

Gaius continued scanning the room until he took notice of aged Xuhajann man hand waving at him, turning to that direction to see a trio waiting for him, the aforementioned Xuhajann, a human woman, and an Aldzir. Gaius walked over as he grabbed a glass, he was fashionably late enough to have his drink ready. "Glad you could make it, Suit." the aged woman, Isana Vikir, his wife spoke, followed by hearty chuckles from the other two

"Yeah yeah, very funny." Gaius replied mildly annoyed, the two then lovingly embracing each other, followed by a short but passionate kiss. "Love you too darling." She said.

"With that." Caris, the Xuhajann spoke, raising a glass. "A toast to Sanders."

"May he find peace in Spiritus." Giddy, the Aldzir spoke mechanically through his translator.

"To the Starhounds." Both Isana and Gaius said, the four of them clashing their glasses together and begun gulping down their drinks. An hour had passed, the festivities of Remembrance Day still raging across the planet, however, the four former pilots felt hollow, their latest loss hitting them hard in their old age. "So, how's the family doing?" Caris asked the couple.

Gaius and Isana looked to one another before turning their attention to their old friend. "Doing well." Gauis replied. "Called Jade an hour ago, we were going to celebrate the holiday together..." Gaius paused, once more looking to his wife. "...but me and Isana agreed now wasn't the best time...the grandkids were mighty disappointed."

"Yeah..not in a festive mood either." Giddy said, dunking his trunk into the glass, siphoning the alcohol. Some more time passes as the starhounds took it all at a slowed pace, a large hologram screen brightened up as the daily news reports came in, a Janari Anchor appearing. "Our on-site teams have reported mass causalities numbering in the millions as recent as last week as the Resurrectionist Offensive pushes deeper into Scropine Lin-"

"Thank Spiritus we're not in that mess..." Gauis said, chugging down another drink. "I feel miserable enough as is.."

"I heard some rumors from passing by merchants." Caris said. "Mars is already itching to make a move on the Rezz."

"And if true, I guess we all know what that means." Isana said, her tone matching the mood in the air around the group.

"They can do whatever they please." Gaius said disgruntly. "Just keep it a Martian Operation I'd say. Last thing we need is another war on our hands."

While the Starhounds were busy watching the screen, they had failed to notice a young stranger approaching from behind, having just arrived from the elevator. "Careful there old man." the stranger spoke. "You'll just jinx yourself with that kind of talk."

The four turned to see a human man in his mid thirties, wearing a fine suit often associated with the Republic Intelligence Service. "Gaius Vikir?" The stranger begun. "The name's Leon Severis, I'm with Intelligence."

"We know that much." Isana spoke up.

"Could you and your associates come with me for but a moment?" Leon requested of the group. "It won't take long."

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

Some time had past, the group driving around the city in a rather spacious truck, often used as mobile listing posts by Intelligence. The Starhounds sat rather comfortably one one end of the truck, all the troubling spying gear gutted out in favor of more comfy seats, facing them on the other end was Agent Severis. "So, why'd you drag us here." Gaius asked, honestly intrigued by this point.

"As you're quite well aware, the war between the Neo-Scorpine Empire and the Resurrectionists is going less then swimmingly for the Scorpines. It's not public knowledge as of yet, but the Martians have begun operations to covertly back the Empire, the Martian Commander General has requested the Chancellor herself to lend aid in this operation."

Gaius had quickly shifted from intrigued, to less then interested. "...Son, Why'd you bring that up?"

"I'll get to the point, your country is in need of your services Captain." Leion said. "Your former post as a pilot has made you a maverick among your peers, men and women serving under you have commented on your unorthodox, but efficient command. Such an officer would be-"

"Let me stop you right there." Gaius interrupted. "I've already survived a war, I've done my country a great service as is, I won't be thrown in to start another."

"Gaius..lets at least hear him out." Isana said, gripping onto his arm, locking into each other gaze. "Fine...continue."

"Thank you." Leon said. "An Officer of your talent would be of great use in an operation such as this." He paused a moment, catching his breath. "Officially, we're not in a state of war with the Resurrectionists, however, their stated goals do run counter to the Coalition as a whole, and we would rather avoid open war with the Resurrectionists and their allies."

"...What do you want me to do exactly?" Gaius asked, still skeptical.

"Put up a good Facade of course." Leon replied. "Officially, we're sending your ship under the guise of Humanitarian Aid, your vessel would be provided with surplus Mercy-class ships to back that up." Leon paused once more. "Unofficially, you are to assist the martians in training and supplying the various anti-res militia groups to properly fight this war. Unless pressed by the enemy, you're to avoid combat as much as possible."

The group remained silent, seemingly not convinced, however, Gaius spoke up. "So My crew and I would be the only ones sent in? Not to fight a war or anything, but get others to do it for us?"

"That's the original plan, yes." Leon answered. "If the operation goes well that is."

Gaius remained silent and pondered, he could possibly do some do some good, helping the locals to help themselves, and possibly not drag Aurolia into this unpleasant war. "...Dammit all, fine." He reluctantly agreed. "I'll do this under one condition though, after this Op, I request an early retirement from Navy service."

"That can be arranged, captain." Leon said, extending his hand towards him, Gaius grabbed a hold of it and shook. "Glad we can come to an understanding."

Felipe ran his hand along the smooth black metal of the hallway wall, savouring every moment of the action. He knew that the sensation was no different than he’d have experienced had he repeated the action in any one of a thousand of other buildings, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that he did it here, that he relished the experience of finally having arrived in this place he’d always wanted to be, one few in the galaxy could boast of entering.

The central archives of the Resurrection. Maybe Mars had something similar deep below its crust, maybe not, all Felipe knew was that there was a good chance there existed no greater archive of Humanities history and culture. Everything from tablets tens of thousands of years old to flora that had been carefully preserved over millennia, unmarred by genetic tampering. It wasn’t a complete record, it was likely that no such thing would ever exist, but it was a work in progress that pursued that impossible target relentlessly and unfailingly. A window on the other side of the hall looked into a vast room where ancient ruins plundered from Earth untold centuries ago were carefully preserved so that they could last for eons to come.

It was a lot to take in, and Felipe didn't doubt he could lose himself in such a place for years. The archive was a station, the location of which he hadn’t been told, but based on how long it took to get anywhere in it he didn’t doubt it was easily larger than a small city. Shaking himself from his musings he payed closer attention to his guide.

The affable woman had been accommodating, answering what questions she could and apologizing for what she couldn't, but something about her manner hadn’t sat well with him since his arrival some hours ago. He suspected she was waiting for any chance to eject him, after all who would trust a first generation immigrant in such a place? It was a prejudice that was hard to shake, with the waves of migration beginning to slow many who arrived in the Great Resurrections space had their loyalties questioned for the rest of their lives.

Well, he’d have to disappoint her. He had too much to learn from this place, and the satellite archives had only offered what he imagined were deliberately tantalizing scraps. The Guide spoke with an affected warmth, “We’re nearly at the section you requested access to Mister Perez, but as I’ve warned you our records are incomplete and this is one of the more notable gaps.”

Felipe grinned, “And isn’t that interesting?”

The woman shook her head, “Not every gap has an explanation Mister Perez, we lack information about a number of ancient societies but we don’t assume that there was a great conspiracy to make that the case. You’re not the first to come here seeking these answers, and I can assure you more qualified individuals have already failed to piece together anything useful.”

Felipe chuckled, he was behind her but he didn’t need to see the woman face to pick up on the sneer he wore. He didn’t doubt the validity of her statement, but he had long since realized that qualifications can be as blinding as they are illuminating. Familiarity and expertise were a two edged sword. Answering her with genuine mirth he spoke, “I’m sure, but another set of eyes has never hurt has it? I don’t blame you from tiring of people researching this though, I can only imagine how many fanatics you get trying to cut through all the myths and dethrone the figure our distant neighbours seem to think of as a god. You might be pleased to learn I’m not the least bit interested in ‘Orion’ or his exploits.”

The woman glanced back with a curious expression, her blond hair up in a bun preventing it from spilling over he face, “So what might you be looking into then, Mister Perez?”

Felipe raised the small bag he carried and patted it, “What I’ve been looking into for ages, what people were doing shortly before 'Orion' entered the picture. You might, or might not, be stunned at how little there is there. Conspiracy or no, we can all understand the Empire propping up their supposed founder. What's curious is that it seems they went a bit beyond that. Somebody mutilated the history of that first war with the Scorpine, and its a tragedy we don't fully understand the structure of Humania before its unfortunate reformation. I understand most look further back, or look at the rise of the Empire itself, but Humans didn’t stop thinking their own thoughts when we made first contact. Just because we knew aliens existed didn’t mean we were... Consorting with them. There’s a lot of value there, in what we were doing before the Empire and after we claimed our little spur, and I figure I might be the one to look.”



The ship Theodore was set to board was a peculiar one, peculiar enough that upon seeing it he openly gawked. By all accounts Councillor Gulliot should have have had access to a stealth fighter, let alone one with an automated guidance system. Then again, Theodore couldn't imagine any of this was supposed to be happening, he had faith in the agenda of the Economic Council but the underlying knowledge that this meeting was almost certainly not approved by the State council discomforted him.

With a deep sigh he walked up to the fighter, which true to the theme of this excursion opened its cockpit as if in wait for him. The hanger was empty, but had it recognized him specifically or? It didn't matter, he supposed. Reluctantly he climbed into the ship and watched as it took over, relegating him to the role of a mere passenger as the coordinated supplied by the Ecumene blinked in a corer of the ships heads up display.

He often wondered if it was worth accepting these 'promotions'. For years he'd been running from group to group negotiating deals to the benefit of his Council, this wasn't the first time he'd been told to do something of questionable legality. Still, what the Ecumene wanted with the Economic council he could only guess, or at least that's what he thought before the fighters engines roared to life and in lieu of the sky behind the opening hanger doors he saw Councillor Gulliot's face projected on the cockpits main display.

“Mister Allard," The projection smiled, "I can't express enough how pleased I am you accepted this assignment, especially with so little information. There is a lot to cover, and I'm afraid there wont be notes, so please listen closely. As of some days ago the Economic Council has decided to pursue what we've dubbed the contingency policy, which I'm afraid will with make us all hero’s or traitors by the time we're done. I do hope you're comfortable with that risk, because you've already taken it.”

Theodore audibly swallowed.

The device felt familiar. It was certainly comprised of parts that could be identified. A long springy antenna, wires wrapped in a protective coating, a shell that had been shiny, but through untold years of moisture and brine had long lost its luster. A white coat of oxidation had enveloped the part of it that had been found over ground. That which had been buried was dark and rough. Nothing living had made an effort to stick to it, no lichen, algea, or some alien barnacles. Its seemless exterior showed no crease or indication of an access point, except at one point. At the top, or what was presumed to be the top where the antenna protruded was a hatch, a hairline separation between it and the rest of it.

“Hell, it has to be human.” one of the engineers said, leaning into the machine with all his weight. His arms were heavy set and pitted with scabs and scars. Bony growths protruded from under his skin and ran along the length of his arm, meeting at his shoulders to where his back was almost a shell under the dirty cloth of an oily wife beater. His face, afflicted by the same biology was like a hammer head: blunt, flat, unattractive. His beady eyes focused intently down at the machine.

“And why is that?” Marcus said from below. The entire device stood taller than he. By width it was the size of a large minivan and could have been near a story tall. Shaped like a pill it lay on its side, the long antenna probing the far wall and bowing upwards, opposite the floor at the base of the antenna sat the hatch, and leaning up against it a bright yellow ladder where the alien mechanic stood, his short stubby legs leaning against the rungs and knees set against the rungs.

“Because...” the mechanic grunted. There was the sound of metal popping and he threw down his screwdriver, “It's philips headed and I just stripped it out.” he protested, “The screws probably weren't the same metal as the rest. They're fucked to hell.” he grumbled, climbing down.

A human kid came racing around from the other side of the machine, a young girl. She wore a one piece jumper and her long hair was done up in a bun behind her head. She looked to be no older than eleven. Cradled in her arms was a large drill. She handed it up to the mechanic who was down to the last rung, and reaching down with his long arms thanked his assistant. She smiled, and darted off, her rubbed shoes plodding against the steel floor.

Checking the bit the mechanic grumbled under his breath. He didn't have a mouth like a man, it was stiff and hardly as roundly articulate. Each breath and sound he made came out almost as if a grunt or a low rumble. He changed out the bits on the large yellow drill, sliding a new own out from a belt around his hip and dropping the old one into a pocket in his cargo pants and headed back up.

At the top he began assaulting the screws holding the hatch down. The drill rolled and tore at the steel and the room was filled with a harsh, loud whine and roar. During whence Dan came strolling in, his hands in his pockets he looked up at the work in progress. “Guess it's not open yet?” he said, shouting over the noise.

“No, screws stripped open.”

“Damn, if a Gjorn can't open it then it must be in tight.” Dan shouted back.

One by one the mechanic popped out the screws. As the drill came out, so did they at the bidding of the extraction bit at the end. In minutes the plate was removed and he through it down to the side. As it clanged to the side he looked in.

“Ahh- USB type E-class, maybe. Don't know the number.” he said shouting.

“Wait, so this might be human?” Dan said.

“Think so.” Marcus said.

“E-class? How old is this thing then? You think it's still working?”

“It was broadcasting.” Marcus said, and looking up the mechanic shouting, “G-L, what do you think it was doing?”

“Hell if I know. An exploratory probe? A beacon left behind? If anything, it's not working well if you only caught the signally while on top of it.”

Again from around the corner the little assistance came plodding. With a box in her hand she climbed up the ladder and worked herself around the master mechanic until she was seated cross legged next to the hatch. When she opened the box she began taking out chords and drives. From a pocket she took out a small tablet computer.

“No. No. Not this.” G-L muttered as they went through the drive adapters. At each one used it was handed back and replaced. But with every one tried, came on that didn't work.

“Looks like it could be F-series.” the girl said.

“Really? What makes you think that?” G-L asked.

The girl shone a light on something through the screen of her tablet. “There's a little tongue there, next to the plates. Could also be a safety.”

“Ah, perhaps. Can you go get those?”

The girl nodded and closed her box. Leaving the diagnostic tablet behind she disappeared around the side of the machine again.

“I have to give you humans credit. You say universal and I've seen nothing but.” G-L chided, teasing, “Maybe your race means a universe of all kinds.”

“Maybe. I've been baffled about that too.” Dan commented.

The shop assistant came back around with another box, and resumed her seat next to the hatch. Again they went to work finding and matching drives until they found one.

“It's in!” the girl exclaimed. She lifted up the tablet and looked at it, “There's something in there.” she added, and went to work tapping through interfaces.

“What is it?” everyone else in the room asked, whether out loud or to themselves. She placed the tablet on the surface of the pod and it projected up into the air its user interface. She began reaching out to and moving information boxes and technical messages. Something flashed that the connected hardware was out of date and needed a software upgraded. She dismissed that. There was another message that said something about fifty years since last update. But that too was gone before anyone had a chance to read it. Finally coming to the program she wanted she activated something, and it all shut down.

“I reboot it.” she said simply, “I need to boot it on both operating systems. It'll take a while.” she said, sliding to the side and stretching her feet off the side of the rounded hull, and begun drumming the heels of her feet.

The three looked nonplussed. G-L shrugged. “Alright then.” he mumbled, “I'll go wash my hands and go find something to eat.”

Marcus kicked at the floor, and turned to Dan, “So, you up to it?”

“No, I already ate.” he said. “I was going to go catch a show, or head to Deck 15 and play some ball. The system is going to start issuing bulletins to ask where we're headed next. I think some refugee work was on that.”

“What do you think of that?” Marcus asked. The two headed out the door.

“Go ahead and drop myself off at a stockpile. Liberty's going to need some people to try and organize that and I need to get out of this tube. I'm really just hoping to settle down for a year, two, three. A stockpile would be a good place for that.”

Marcus nodded noncommittally as they stepped out of the room.

Compared to the gravity-less aft, Deck 1 was at the least far more open. Much more so than the other decks up to 14. But this much so for the purpose of moving much of the heavy components around. Here the major work that demanded the control of gravity was performed. Whether it was investigating abandoned debris, the repair of vehicles, fixing large or small components there were things best not performed in the weightless of zero gravity, in free fall. An infinitely small screw lost in the anywhere space of the chambers and passages of the hanger, engine bays, or power plant could end up destructive. If it could be removed, it was removed to Deck 1 and worked on. If it needed to be processed, it was in Deck 1. Many hundreds, thousands of automated systems performed the never ending cycle of keeping Liberty in perpetual voyage and sustained its nomadism to the root-most mechanical function. Repairs in the aft were to be large, dealing with large parts and the minimum of free-floating smaller bits. Deck 1 repairs were on those small minuteas.

“What are you thinking?” asked Dan

“What we're going to do now. I'd like to know what it is we found. But, we're going to have to wait until everything's all formatted. G-L said it's probably human. Who do you think it's from?”

“Something built like that? I don't think I've ever seen anything like that for a while. But it must be old. It said it was fifty years out of date, you think that's true?”

“Oh fuck no.” Marcus chortled. It wasn't filled with humor though. He was astonished, bewildered. He didn't know what to think of it. He chortled at the something unexplained, chuckled at the strange circumstance.

“I suppose you'll be hanging around here then.” Dan said, “Maybe?”

“I suppose I will.”

“Tell me if you learn anything then.” Dan smiled, stepping away from Marcus as he headed down the hall. The door to the workshop sat closed between them. Down the hall was a shaft for an elevator. As he reached it he looked back and smiled, waving to him as he called the lift.

Finding what they found there was something strange, Marcus thought to himself as Dan left. Even after the fact, there was a sense of confusion and awestruck mysticism for the beacon that they had stumbled across. Even as they delivered it to the ship there was chatter. Whose was it? Mars? The Ressurectionists? Perhaps some other further flung human polity. It might be a spy satellite. Or a navigation beacon. It was after all the sort of signal it had put out. It could have been a bread crumb. But where was the next crumb?

He had found it by following that beacon, its own bread crumb trail. Flying low he passed it the first several times, skirting over the volcanic island it was on and throwing up sand as he passed. He nearly nicked a giant knife of a rock that protruded from the volcanic ground there. But on his third pass he found it, sitting out in the extreme low tide. Had it been a few yards in one direction, it would have been under water. How long had it been there? For several decades? Was it washed up on high tide or revealed in low tide?

But finding it he had stopped and landed, and called it in. At that time it was embedded in the sand and rocky mud it was resting it. All entirely white from salt water. It must have been made of aluminum, he thought. Aluminum oxidizes white, doesn't it? He didn't know how tall it was then, it was embedded so deep that it was nearly as tall as his craft was tall on its skids, exempting the antenna.

Was it fortune it hadn't buried its antenna? If its signal was meant to be so strong, and it had weakened, then it would've been mute to him or anyone if it was buried wrong-side down.

It was everyone else who had helped him get it out. With some fighting they pulled it out with chains and cables. Packed it aboard a heavy shuttle, and flew it back to the Liberty. They counted their stars they didn't need to deal with anything heavier.

Now here it was, in Deck 1 aboard the Liberty. Probably built by humans, but by who no one knew.

Several hours passed. His pocket buzzed. Reaching in he pulled out a small hand held computer. He had a message. He opened it, it simply read, “It's done.”

Slipping it back in his pocket he made his way back to the workshop. Stepping back inside he swelled the renewed blast of ozone and mechanical chemicals; lubricants, hydraulics, and stored coolants. G-L's assistant, the human girl was still perched atop the beacon with the hatch off, her tablet computer plugged into the beacon. What had changed now though was the lack of user interface. Many of the normal windows, messages, and alerts had been moved aside and now there was a much more clear program being projected from the tablet's screen that the girl was playing with. It appeared to be a map, in rough form.

“Well, I cracked it.” she said, “Only to find out someone had encrypted most of it. But I think Mr. G's right, whoever made it: we did.”

“We did?” Marcus asked, stepping up closer to the beacon as if he could see the map clearer. It was a 2D projection of the galaxy and the girl had it mostly facing her. She idly spun it, watching the static constant of the dots representing the stars orbit as if it were the galaxy.

“Well, not we. But we as in, well, humans.” said she.

“How's that?”

“Our USBs worked.”

“Well I'm sure anyone interacting with us would have picked up that. Why what else?” he asked.

“It works on our computers. Computer things aren't entirely different, it's not written on a whole other language. Same thing we've been speaking for thousands of years!” she said, emphasizing this by spreading out her arms.

“Also, Sol is at the middle of these two lines.” she added, pointing to two crossing axis faintly visible, “So it must be us. Not many other life puts Sol at the middle of their universe like we do.”

“No, no they don't...” Marcus said, and almost distantly muttered, “The Geliuminens actually put the Galactic center at their middle.”

“You say something?” the girl asked.

“No, no. Nothing that's not important. So we have this, what then?”

“Ahhh-” the girl started, looking up at the map, “Well this dot here must be it!” she pointed, picking out a red blip to the north-west of Earth, above the dividing line that would separate the galaxy if one were drawn left-to-right through the galactic center; which on the map was shown as a void filled with a checkerboard pattern. The red dot was just a few fingers north of that line, sort of mid-way across on that left-hand side.

“OK, that's good. But do we know any more?” Marcus asked.

“I want to work on it, but it's pretty hard.” she complained, “I'd like Mr. G to help out, but he's out to lunch. You know, he eats too much. It can't be helpful.”

“Well he has a fast metabolism.” Marcus said, “But, hey... If you learn anything else can you keep me in the loop. I'm kind of curious.”

“Sure thing.” the girl smiled, “I'll see what's going on with this.”

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“Admiral, a single fighter has entered the Fleet’s defensive perimeter.”

Talaran walked up to the screen, and watched the tiny incoming blip on the bridge officer’s monitor as it drew closer.

“Is that our guest?”

There was silence for a few seconds as the officer verified the incoming data, before he turned to look back at the Admiral with a affirming nod.

“Confirmed. It’s a Resurrectionist craft, and its transmitting the encoded greeting specified in our message.”

“Very well. Escort the craft to Hanger 43B. I’ll greet the ambassador myself.”

“Yes sir.”

As Talaran walked off the bridge, the bridge officer began hailing the craft, and opened a direct communication line.

“Welcome to Ecumene 1st Carrier Fleet Faithful Intent, ambassador. Escort fighters will direct you to the waiting hanger onboard the Carrier Righteous Truth. The Lord Admiral is awaiting you.”

Within a short time, the promised fighter escort arrived and began to escort the craft towards the Fleet. Despite the immensity of the seven Heavy Carriers within the fleet, which dwarfed the great many smaller corvette class ships that swarmed around them, the carriers themselves seemed considerably smaller than the Flagship Carrier Righteous Truth that lay at the fleet’s center. As the pride of The Ecumene navy, it was a veritable mobile command platform and it was towards it that the fighters directed the Ambassador’s ship.

Once the craft had successfully docked within the appropriate hanger and the ambassador exited, a small group which had been awaiting his arrival stepped forward. The group consisted only of Talaran himself along with two Seraphim Honor Guards and the lone High Orionic Priest, Raynald. Although there was none of the fanfare or elaborate ceremony which might accompany an official state visit, the fact that this was anything but “official” necessitated the simplicity of the greeting.

They were all still quite elaborately dressed however. With the High Priest being considerably more so, garbed as he was in flowing red and white robes, decorative helm, and carrying a staff that was the symbol of his authority. Talaran was considerably more moderately dressed in martial aspect, with a long buttoned side cape atop a well pressed white naval uniform. The two Seraphim guards were dressed in full combat gear, and carried their railgun rifles slung around their shoulders.

“Welcome aboard the Righteous Truth ambassador. I am Admiral Talaran Victrix, commander of this Fleet and High Lord of The Ecumene Navy. The individual next to me is his holiness Raynald Dagenais, High Priest of Orion.”

“I’m glad to see our message came through,” the High Priest, Raynald gave a slight bow, his elaborate vestments flowing around him as he did so, “On behalf of Orion’s disciples and the Archpriestess, I welcome you as well. If you would be so kind as to follow us.”

Raynald led the way as the Admiral walked beside the ambassador and the two guards through the winding corridors of the massive ship. The High Priest’s staff resonated across the smooth floors and echoed around them as he struck the floor while he walked. After traveling for some time, the group came to a comfortable looking antechamber, well furnished, luxurious, and quite obviously for receiving guests and dignitaries.

“Wait outside,” Talaran commanded the guards, who nodded in reply and sharply spun around with martial flare to stand guard outside the sliding door. Talaran sat first in one of the cushioned sheets, followed by the High Priest.

“We can speak here for a time, afterwards you can proceed on into the sanctuary,” Raynald said, and he motioned towards a pair of large elaborately engraved doors on the opposite end of the room that bore artistic depictions of Orion’s legendary life, “What happens in there then is between you and The Conclave.”

As if on cue, an android servitor emerged from a sideroom, carry a tray of various fruits and candied delights to be offered to the waiting trio. Gently the tray was set before them, and Talaran plucked out a particularly delicious looking fruit. Raynald refrained, and waved his hand to indicate that he would not have any.

“Your war with the Scorpines, it’s become quite the talk of the Coalition membership. How do your people fare against those….threats?” Raynald asked, his voice tinged with unmistakable disgust as he said the word ‘Scorpine’ almost as if he was repulsed at having to pronounce it.

"We've heard scattered reports that you're mounting a successful counter-offensive. Although I imagine it may be some time before the Scorpines are broken completely," Talaran added, as he withdrew a small candied confection from the plate and popped it into his mouth, "We've received communications from various Scorpine military sources requesting to know why the Fleet is stationed so close to their territory. We've provided the same response each time: the Fleet of Faithful Intent is here to ensure that the war does not spill over into the Ecumene. Nothing more. A deterrent if you will. I'm not surprised they are uncomfortable however, considering the reputation of this fleet amongst non-human elements of the galaxy."

The servitor returned once more and brought a second tray, containing a varied number of liquid refreshments. Talaran gladly accepted one and took a sip of the blue tinged beverage: a type of fruited drink that was popular amongst the Ecumene's upper class.

"The Admiral had previously been assigned to the Cygnus V system," Raynald explained, "The fleet was deployed to crush the resistance against humanity there, and ensure it fell once again back into the rule of the heirs of Orion's Mantle. The treachery of the Alien can indeed be a devious prospect. Thankfully, the full firepower of the fleet's carriers made them see the error of their ways."

"A philosophical question Ambassador, if you would be so kind as to indulge me while we wait for your audience to begin," Raynald continued, "Where do you see the path of humanity's destiny leading? What is our purpose here now and throughout these long years of our existence? From the mists of our earliest days, through the misguided domination of the Empire, to now: where is our path taking us?"

"People don't come to Felix to read, Koaga," Ghanzi chastised, forcing the young Janari to look up from his book. After all these thousands of years, one would think hard copies would've 'gone out of style', but Koaga wasn't one to keep up with the trends. The amphibian quickly dogeared the page and placed the novel down onto the bar. Outside, the gaseous pink mass of Petrion-B loomed into view, casting its shadow onto the Starfort.

"Sorry," the private replied sheepishly, "These sort of, uh, 'scenes' aren't really my thing." By scene, he meant anything that the infamous Starfort Felix was known for; gambling, drinking, drugs, prostitution. Unlike most fortifications, most visitors passing through Felix aren't travelers from abroad. They're citizens trying to escape the pressures of Martian life by pouring their hard earned money into a Laadaruuan whore, and the fort's commanders are happy to sap up every cent of it. Off the books, of course. Yes, the fort had quite relaxed liquor licenses and didn't quite keep the same tabs on their...'civilian employees', but records show that Felix is a Starfort like any other, replete with enough Customs bureaucratic bullshit to make a Free Nest trader forget all about the advanced weapons systems and guards at every corner. And it was the filing monotony known to all Starforts that brought the First Cavalry to Felix. After all, how could an Imperial Ruin scouting mission be considered a success unless the State knows how many corpses they found and exactly what caliber of munitions were in the far left ammo boxes in the back closet of the second gunnery?

That isn't to say, of course, that the First wouldn't be using Felix's...facilities at the same capacity as any other visitor. Major Astari disappeared as soon as the paperwork was done, likely into some closeted whorehouse, while Animo was catching up with some friends from officer school she ran into by their sleeping quarters. Luckily for Koaga, he found one of the more secluded bars that the Starfort had to offer, the kind of place a soldier can really contemplate the true cost of citizenship...or the kind of place a certain Xuha sniper could drink away the plight of Martian honor. "Ey, barkeep, another one for my friend here," he requested, to which the Aldzir behind the bar happily obliged. An Aldziri heartbreak ballad played in the background, complete with human guitars, Cultor grainharps, and the low incoherent rumble of an Aldziri trunk singing its heart out. Once Koaga unconfidently had another drink in his hand, Ghanzi continued. "If you want to survive more than a month in the First, you gotta relax, peregrine." The Janari winced at the old Imperial term, denoting an Alien citizen of the empire. Nowadays, it was more of a slur when it comes from humans, but honestly, Koaga wasn't quite a fan of how aliens threw that term around, either.

"You made it to the fucking top, you don't got to keep up the nerd shit!" The Xuha exclaimed. "What are you even reading, Koaga?" With this, the sergeant gestured aggressively towards the book in his hand.

"Adonis," the private corrected, protectively bringing the novel into his body.

"What?"

"Adonis. That's my name." Ghanzi scrunched his face at that. A Janari with a human name? Pft. Goes to show what happens when an Alien grows up thinking they're human. Xuhajann aren't like Janaris, they know what they are, and they know their place. And their place is on the battlefield. That's why they get a warrior's name. That's why Ghanzi's name was Zeitan, not Orion, not Josephus, and not Adonis.

"Alright, Adonis. What are you reading?" Reluctantly, Adonis brought the book from his body, carefully passing it over to the sergeant, who took it and examined it like he was looking for a 'Xuha safe' logo on some dairy products.

"Earthly Daughter," Koaga answered. "Victoria Astrelius. Read it a couple times through back in school, thought I'd refresh myself." Zeitan started chuckling.

"This old-ass Imperial shit?" He asked, tossing the book back to the Janari. "Thought this stuff was made for humans."

"Still a good book, Ghanzi." There was a moment of silence while the Xuha thought it over and Adonis took his drink. "It's uh...this privileged young Imperial women, has everything she'd ever want, but she has no satisfaction in life...every relationship she's in feels meaningless, her work all seems futile, her friends are shallow...basically, just miserable despite being rich as hell, when she starts getting these recurring dreams of life on Earth."

"Earth?" Asked the red alien. "You mean like...where humans are from?" Koaga was starting to get annoyed at how frequently Ghanzi was referencing things as 'human' or not, how he made it seem like they didn't all have a common history, a common heritage, and now, a common cause. Still, he didn't want to bring it up.

"Yeah, Earth." Zeitan looked at him while the Janari finished his drink, waiting for him to finish the story as well.

"Well? How's it end?" Koaga looked to him, a wicked half-grin on his salamander like face as he waited to build up tension.

"You'll have to read it," He finally said, and the sniper began chuckling.

"Sounds fucking lame, Ado." The private began laughing in turn.

"Hey, say what you want, but Astrelius was a fucking genius." The two soldirrs sat for a moment, laughing, and then went quiet for a bit. Koaga spotted an Ulala woman sitting alone at the other end of the bar. She was dressed well for a commoner, but still clearly was one, and her bright eyes caught the Janari's before she smiled at him. Gathering up his courage, he stood up from his seat and went to talk to her, leaving behind his book, which Ghanzi reached across to examine. A silenced screen behind the bar flashed news about the Resurrectionist admiral, Olivia Lahti. The Xuhajann smirked as he saw the two side by side.

"Earthen Daughter," he muttered under his breath, and turned his gaze to the pink immensity of Petrion-B. "Ain't much earth left it seems." On the glaring screen, Lahti was labeled 'terrorist' and a 'dangerous fascist, bent on the annihilation of alien populations'. Following this were images of the Resurrectionist genocide and the hurried explanation that while it was unknown if Lahti was connected to these images, she would certainly condone the actions taken in them. Zeitan snarled at the piles of dead Xuhajann.

"When they give me a war to fight, you won't have any." While Ghanzi stewed in his dreams of bloodshed, Koaga was smiling wide as he spoke of nonsense with a beautiful stranger. In the same fortification, their commander was paying for meaningless sex, their other commander was trying to impress people who didn't matter anymore, and all the while, the First Cavalry had no idea of the blood to come.

UNN, Universal News Network.

Your local, regional and Galactic news source, Live with Jen Silvers and Brogok!

"For those just tuning in, you can watch more on the Scorpine crisis on UNN and our affiliates." A bubbly blond said, a forced smile plastered all over her face.

Brogok, a rather large Kalixuran, stood next to her. Holding a datapad. "Todays stock prices are all over the spectrum." It spoke in a gruff, deep voice. "Most bond sales are down while many weapon manufacturers are reporting all time gains. The various wars bring profit."

"But they are bad for stability and life." Jen chimed in before turning to the camera once more, forcing that smile out once more,

"Stay tuned for more news and Brogok's meeting with Paulina Cobb, Founder of the Dominion protest group, 'Anti Dominion'. with her newest story regarding the "plight of the tiger kittens at the hands of the Dominion menu tyrants." Coming up at the top of the hour."

------

Sis,

Nikki! you'll never believe what happened. I got a message from him! you aren't the only one now! orders right from the top. Cool huh?

Oh and I'm sorry I missed your big premier. I know I know, this is the biggest installment to the Traveler series yet. Seems like just yesterday I was forced to watch you sing barracuda at that dive. But yeah, I saw the reviews and hey yeah! whaaaaat! So I was looking at clips. Kinda felt out of place but I didn't think anyone could make fighting a giant squid in nothing but a bikini work.

So I'm gonna be gone for two weeks, I'll send ya a message when i'm back. Hopefully It will be the last time.

Love ya,
-Lily

Nikki sat alone in a large lobby of the Dominion Headquarters, Slowly lowering her hand, along with the paper away from her face. She leaned back and sighed,

"You are so dumb sometimes. But It's been.. a month now." ." She said quietly before standing up and walking towards the front desk. A young woman sat with her legs crossed, glaring at her from behind the desk.

"May I help you?" She said politely.

"Uh.. I've been up here four times already, the name before me was called, and then the guy after. So.. Any chance I can be seen?" Nikki replied, growing rather impatient.

The young woman turned her head to a large holographic display. "Ah yes, You are next to be seen." She smiled, "Just await your name please. Thank you."

Nikki huffed and turned her back to the woman and walked back to her bench. Before she could sit, a male voice called, "Nikki Kepler."

The male led her through a long corridor, passing many rooms with closed doors, frosted glass revealed only shadowed figures and muffled words. "Guess that's me now." she said, knowing these people were all in for the same reasons. The governments of the lands were useless when it came to matters of missing persons. And best place to start is with her sisters very employer.

When they reached the room, the man motioned for her to sit. "Hello, my name is Todd, customer relations. How may I help you."

Nikki sighed, "I need information on my sister. She is one of the execs with your company. Sarah Kepler."

"Ok, give me just a few minutes to look that up." Todd replied, turning to a holographic panel. Nikki leaned over, trying to gaze at the screen. Todd glared at her, then motioned his hand up, pivoting the screen out of her view.

"Alright, Miss, Kepler. I do not have a record of a Sarah Kepler on file." Todd said.

Nikki gave a puzzled look then leaned in, "Don't treat me like an idiot. Do you know who I am!? I am Nichelle Kepler.. Nichelle, Fucking, Kepler. I sing, I dance, I make movies that make more money than your whole damned family. Respect me!"

Todd laughed, "That's precious. Look. I don't care how poor, how rich, how humble or entitled someone may be. I am honest. I have no record of this Sarah Kepler. I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do."

Nikki leaned back, crossing her arms. "So what now, I have a sister that worked for this company for twenty years and you're just gonna brush her under the rug. Sit there and lie to me like that."

"Listen, look. Ok, I'll send a message to my supervisor and we will get back with you shortly." Todd replied.

Nikki leaned forward, "Awesome! should I wait in the lobby?"

"Expect a reply in a few weeks to a month." Todd replied, standing up and motioning towards the door.

"Are you fucking kidding?" Nikki said, before standing up. She took a few steps away from his desk before leaning over and knocking his name placard from his desk. "Oh let me pick that up." She snarled, "In a few weeks to a month." She turned and walked out.

Outside, reporters and snoops sat eager for her to emerge. Nikki stood at the main door, staring at the flashing cameras. "Damn. Damn damn damn." As she opened the door, a Xuhajann and a Janari took flanking positions, motioning the paparazzi away.

As they took their seats inside a hover car, a female human sat across from her, Nikki's personal assistant Haley. "Ma'am. I was going over some of the circumstances of Lily's disappearance and I think it might be wise to seek alternative measures to find her."

Nikki cocked her head. "What. Go to who. One of the other nations? maybe someone will pick up the scent. Help a girl out?"

Haley frowned and shook her head, "No, I believe you might have to take this into your own hands. Perhaps the Valkyries could help."

Nikki leaned forward, "You do realize that me being ex Dominion Military would likely turn them away.. right?"

Haley smiled, "enemy of my enemy is me friend? Even though you left on good terms, I'm sure they'd consider it. It's not like you just got out. its been what, ten years?"

"Yeah.. ten years next week. Wow its been a while." Nikki said, before nodding to Haley. "Ok, arrange a meeting with the Valkyries. I'll give that a try."

"Ma'am might I suggest not flaunting your status, most will probably know you anyway. It might help them." She paused, and cleared her throat intentionally. "Understand your humbled civility."

"Yeah, Right." Nikki said, prompting both to start chuckling.

GONDERIAN DOMINION (Isolated from other planets, for now)

5800 CE, 19th June, 3:45 am, Grand Chancellery, Military High Command planning room.

Grand Chancellor, Chief of Army and Chief of Airforce standing over table with a map on it



Grand Chancellor: "So that's it? The 71st Division is done?"

Chief of Army: "Yes, sir. The Kalixurans forces killed them all."

Chief of Airforce: "This might not be my specific area of expertise, Sir, but I believe it happened because the Regular Army Armoured Division is not prepared to face the Kalixurans. I am sure the Black Guards would have had better chances."

Chief of Army: "I say he is is correct, sir."

The Grand Chancellor stared at the map for a few seconds in silence. "And what's that half-way to the city?"

Chief of Army: "That's the 6th Black Guard Mechanized Infantry Division, sir."

Grand Chancellor: "And how long would it take the Kalixurans to get there from the frontline?"

Chief of Army "Worst case scenario: 12 hours. However I suggest they retrea-"

Grand Chancellor: "No, I'm not giving up anymore ground, not that close to the first settlement on this new continent. Tell them to dig in and prepare to repel a Kalixurans attack"

Chief of Army: "As you order, sir."

The Chief of Army has scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to a guard, ordering him to take the paper to the radioman.

Grand Chancellor: Alright, and ho long would it take the forces in the city to reach this 6th Division?

Chief of Army: "At least 14 hours, sir."

Grand Chancellor: "Good, send them out immediately when we finish the meeting. And what of the Air Fleet stationed there?"

Chief of Air Force: "They have fighters, ground support aircraft and tactical bombers. They should be able to reach the 6th Division in 30 minutes."

Grand Chancellor: "Good, have them on ready. Have the 6th Division deploy a scout outpost at least 20 minutes of travel time towards the frontline. They are to alert the Air Fleet as soon as they see Kalixurans forces closing in. We shall pin down their forces there, and then when the 5th Division reaches the place, we shall annihilate their attack force and then launch a counteroffensive. Briefing dismissed."

Chief of Army and Chief of Airforce: "Yes, sir!"

With that the 2 chiefs rushed to the radio stations.

3:55 am, 6th Black Guard Mechanized Division Field HQ

Division General: "Any orders from the capital?"

Head of Staff: "No sir, none-"

Radioman: "Receiving transmission from the capital. To the General of the 6th Black Guard Mechanized Division. You are to dig in and prepare to defend your region against a Kalixurans offensive force. They are to arrive at your location in about 12 hours, be prepared by then"

Head of Staff: "... Wasn't there a Stormtrooper division ahead of us towards the frontline?"

Division General: "Well, I guess they were destroyed. Those savage beasts are much stronger than humans, after all. And not all firearms can take them on.

Head of Staff: "I'm sure our lasers shall smite them quick"

Division General: "I hope so. Alright, let's pass the order down to the troops. We have just 12 hours, after all."

The Division started preparing defensive positions.

4:15 am, 5th Black Guard Armoured Division HQ

Rasioman: "Sir, orders from the capital!"

Division General: "Let's hear them"

Radioman: To the General of the 6th Black Guard Armoured Division. You are to move out East immediately and are to link up with the 6th Black Guard Mechanized Division. The 6th Division are expecting to be attacked by Kalixurans forces, and if they are, you must be prepared to enter battle as soon as you arrive. Once the Kalixurans attack is deflected, you are to take temporary command of the 6th Division are both Divisions are to begin a counter-offensive to restore the frontline established by the now-destroyed 71st Armoured Division. Debrief once you are at the positions of the 71st Armoured Division and return command of 6th Division to it's General."

Division General: "Oh my... Looks like the boys ran into some trouble..."

Head of Staff: "A whole Armoured Division... Whiped out... I knew that these Kalixurans are savages, but this... This is a whole new level. Did we run into their home territory, or something?"

Division General: "I hope we have. Means we'll finally be able to finish them off for good."

4:15 am, 11th Black Guard Air Corps HQ

Radioman: "Sir, we are receiving orders from the High Command. You are to prepare close air support ground attack aircraft for take off and assist a defensive and then a counter-offensive, and are to wait for a signal from the 6th Black Guard Mechanized Division, after which you shall be receiving orders from the 5th Black Guard Armoured Division until debriefing".

4:20 am, 6th Black Guard Mechanized Division Field HQ

Radioman: "Sir, a new transmission from the capital. You shall be joined by the 5th Black Guard Armoured Division in about 14 hours. Once they do, their General shall take over your division until the task he is given is completed, upon which the Division command shall be given back to you. You are also to set up a scout outpost 6 kilometers ahead of your positions, and they are to alert the Air Fleet and the High Command as soon as they spot the Kalixurans forces. You are also to alert the High Command if no Kalixurans forces arrive withing the given 12 hours."

Sebastian plodded up to the massive set of double doors that led to the throne room, looking up at the pair of guards who towered over him, but outweighed him only due to their heavy armor. The guards silently opened the door for Sebastian, performing the action while keeping their gazes fixed to the front. They had seen Sebastian more than enough to question whether or not he should be allowed in. At one time they had feared him, an irrational emotion given their heavy armor, but now they viewed him with either fondness or indifference.

Sebastian plodded into the throne room without giving the guards another look, his gaze focused on the three figures that occupied the room. The three beings he loved most in the world. There was father, seated atop his throne, quiet and thoughtful as ever. Lucretia was currently speaking. Despite her quiet words he could sense and undertone of frustration as she spoke, so different from all the times she had let him nap on her bed. Henry was always quick to slip Sebastian a piece of jerky or other treat, but at the moment his focus was turned away from Sebastian. He cut off Lucretia, his voice becoming louder and more angry as he and his sister began to argue.

Sebastian didn’t like it when Henry and Lucretia fought. There was only one thing he could do to stop them. He took a deep breath before letting out a fierce roar.



All eyes turned towards Sebastian as he let out a roar, the throne room becoming quiet. They all knew that they had nothing to fear from the white tiger, but centuries old instincts had them freezing and going quiet regardless. After a moment the emperor of Astrana let out a soft chuckle. “Looks like Sebastian didn’t like hearing you two argue.”

“He never does” Lucretia agreed. The imperial family had long had an informal rule that, should Sebastian let out a roar, they were to cease arguing immediately. Sebastian was both a mascot and pet of the imperial family, as had all Sebastians before him had. Ever since the Martians had gifted the emperor a white tiger, centuries ago, the family had maintained one as a pet, naming each one Sebastian after the original Sebastian, regardless of whether they were male or female.

Henry let out a frustrated sigh, earning him a glare from the emperor. “So what are we going to do about that Ressie offensive? Should I tell the Admiralty to send more warships?”

The emperor thought for a moment before saying “I find myself agreeing with your sister on this. We will not send additional forces to aid the Resurrectionists.” After a moment, perhaps feeling that he needed to give Henry something, he added “But we will continue our planned naval exercises to the galactic south. In fact… let’s expand it a bit and see if we can draw some of the Coalition’s attention away from the Resurrection for a bit.” He gave a gesture of dismissal as he said “Henry, you can oversee these orders.”

Zuukind civil war zone, Celestuial bureaucracy controlled space.
Planet: Rotatha 4.
Town: Saltspire



Having a biological warmachine with me as I made my way across the small town towards the docks was about as detrimental to my standing with the locals as I had expected, the people of the town giving us a wide berth where before i had managed to get at least a few polite how do you dos from passers by. Damage control for this was going to be a nightmare. I hindsight I should have taken the car rather than traveling on tail, but there are few things I’d like less than spend any time trapped in a small metal box on wheels with a feral killing machine. So by our own power we went, along the uncomfortably hot concrete pavements heated by the still sweltering late afternoon sun, till eventually we arrived at the town’s only port.

One thing the monster made easy was getting access to the hanger the wounded women had parked her ship in. The manager of the port was rather reluctant to let me in despite my credentials but one look at Sixer and he was more than willing to cooperate. Sixer being what the Rekshai had informed me, menacingly perhaps, or maybe politely, I couldn’t understand its tone, its name was. A biomech unit having a name was ludicrous of course, but I felt it wiser to humor the beast in this instance. It was at least easier than referring to it by its full designation.

The manger nervously escorted the pair to the specific hanger holding the ship. The structure itself was a large steel framed structure with kevlar paneling filling in between the metal struts, the bear bones of colony infrastructure that no one had ever seen the need in replacing. The ship inside was not much better, a battered black angular thing about the size of two trucks welded side by side, that an expert in human military history might compare to a F-117 Nighthawk, but which Vempt just thought looked ugly as sin. It was unfortunately typical of current design trends, gone where they days of sleek shining vessels designed by gifted artisans, the civil war had replaced such extravagance with need for prideless efficiency, where every second of manufacturing time was precious. As the pair approached the black mass of angles and gave the exterior some closer inspection it became evident that the ship wasn’t in a poor state because of age, but rather because it had been attacked, one side was scorched and partially melted , presumably by a wide beam laser, while the surface was also rendered with clawmark like gashes from higher intensity beams. That the ship had survived being hit said more about the intentions of the attackers than the toughness of the ship, these were clear signs of attempted disabling rather than destruction, which meant either the ship had escaped a pirate attack or it had run foul of either the bureaucracy or republic’s police force, all of whom could potentially want to capture the ship, crew and cargo for financial or legal reasons.

Looking at the thing it was clear why the manager had been so hesitant to let me in. Not reporting an incident like this was inexcusable and could only mean that he had something to hide. If he didn’t he would have informed the theocracy at once that the region contained some hostile force, be it marauders, pirates or worse, republic raiders. That they hadn't wanted this found out meant either they had been paid off by our woman or where in on whatever operation she was running. That was just a hunch of course. A pretty good one I would bet, but you can't just go around arresting people on hunches. Some Inquisitors did do that. It was basically an open secret that the theorcary was ok with it if you got results, but I ain't one of the ones know for getting results. Not yet anyway. That all changed today.

“Right. Let's crack this thing open and…”

Before he could finish Sixer had stabbed the ship’s main door with its Pilum and, demonstrating just how easy it would have been for the ships attackers to just destroy it, slicing a person sized hole in it, wielding the twin pronged force spear like an oversized can opener. After two seconds of slicing the Biomechanical warmachine stepped away and bowed slightly with a hand pointed, with what what Vent could swear was mocking theatrics, at the hole it had created.

“Way is open holy one.”

“I can see that.” the priest responded falsely before muttering under his breath “what is it with this thing and ruining doors”

Despite his contempt at the method of gaining access Vempt nonetheless slithered through the freshly cut hole, carefully avoiding touching the freshly sliced metal with either his tail or his serpents. After being forced to cut open the inner airlock himself for 30 seconds the priest finally got a look at the inside, and what he found was not a pretty sight, for right behind the airlock was as mall corridor containing 3 bodies. One was a Vaun, a biomechanically reanimated and brainwashed human cadavers used extensively during the crusade through Orionic empire, but a rare sight in the subsequent civil war. Not enough raw material available. It and a Lonoxi drone were lying close to the entrance and both were wearing lime green painted vtol capable space combat armor bearing the symbol of the Volt Viper’s mercenary organization. Guess that's what she meant by being attacked by snakes. One seems to have been armed with a laser pistol, the other with a strange flechette gun. Both of them had had a hole punched clean through said armor, presumably by the woman’s gauss pistol, a skillful and risky thing to do, because missing or over penetrating with a too high powered shot could have punched a hole in the hull, dooming her along with the invaders. Across from these two bodies was one of a Draskavian, the bear sized avians found most commonly in the Republic of equals, who had a large semicircle of flesh burned out of their chest. Blackened ribs were visible sticking out the charred crater, some of which was presumably made of the remains of a number of the Draskavian’s vital organs.

Looked like the pair of vipers had managed to jet over to this ship and had been let inside only to be ambushed by the crew. A risky move on both sides and it seemed that nearly everyone had paid the price. The woman who piloted the ship back had only survived because by the narrowest margin. I could see the knife-like projectiles of the fletched gun, some coated with her drying blood, still sticking to the far wall, suck there as sark evidence of her brush with death. Why had they all taken these risk however? Why had the crew not surrendered, why had the mercenaries not vented the ship prior to boarding? What or who was so valuable that both sides had risked life and limb to secure it. That was a mystery yet to be unraveled.

Vempt carefully slinked around the aftermath of the showdown and slipped past the sealed door to the cargo hold into the cockpit. A two person affair it fitted two general species chairs rather than one’s specialised to the two owners, which, along with the distinct lack of any decoration or other modification to the insides of ship, gave the impression that the two people had not been very attached to the vessel itself. Vempt slipped into one of these chairs, which managed to accommodate him uncomfortably, and picked up a small glass pane, held by a thin adjustable arm stand, that acted as the ships main interface, and booted it up, only to be confronted by a password screen.

locked. Unfortunate but not unexpected. I’d need to get a technician in here to take a look at...

“Secrets? I can get them for you”

Sixer, like a antigrav mine, completely derailed my train of thought and sent it crashing down into an abyss of disbelief

“You? Unlock this? What are you going to do, tare it apart?” the perturbed priest asked before quickly adding “Please don't do that.” In response the Rekshai gave a short grunt that might have been a laugh and then reached behind its head and pulled a short wire out from its helm, one presumably leading back to the cyberware inside. Then it bent down and opened a maintenance panel located at knee height at the front of the cockpit and set about rummaging around in the ship’s internals as Vempt watched. After a few moments Sixer reported that it had “found it”, followed by a soft click of the jack being plugged in.

On the screen several passwords were entered in lightning succession until the device hit a cap of attempts and displayed an error mandating a day’s wait till the next attempt could be made. Before Vemt could admonish this failure the timer denoting how long it would be till the next attempt rapidly cycled down to zero, the day seemingly whizzing by in a flash, at which point more passwords were tried, then more and more and more until finally a correct guess was made and the device displayed a simple welcome message. Without looking at the screen Sixer seems to know that its task was complete, the little cable being unconnected and rapidly spooling back into the back to their head as they extracted themselves from the maintenance panel.

“Little voice says she is done. Enjoy your secrets holy one.”

Automated hacking software. Figures.

“Good good. Go sniff for drugs or something while I look into this”

“Yes. Check hold. Hunt for secret compartments. Your will’ll be done.” the apex-predator responded before slinking out the bridges door, heading towards the back of the ship. An occasional tapping of claw against wall could be heard following it, slowly receding deeper into the ship interrupted only briefly by the rending of metal as the monster broke into the cargo hold.

That makes three. At this point i was far past caring and instead got stuck in with trawling through the ship’s computer. There was, both blessed and frustratingly, very little to see. While it was good not to have to trawl through gigabyte’s of personal files and the irrelevant horrors that might lay within it also gave me very little information about who the woman and her dead accomplice were. The flight logs had been scrubbed clean, as had all records of external communication and the cargo manifest. Doing so was illegal, naturally, but seeing as the three corpses on the ship were reason enough to arrest her, this didn't really give me anything new. It was luck and frustration that lead me randomly to check the ships controls, but in hindsight it was the most important thing I did that day. There, in the controls for the shields, I discovered a stealth function of some kind, unusual but not unheard of for civilian ships traversing less than safe regions of space, which lead me into checking the ships specks. Why it wasn't hidden I did not know, but there in the list of installed systems was something called a Ersterban stealth module with a production date that made it archive-tech, real grade A pre-civil war stuff. Anything made at the height of the empire that was still around was valuable beyond belief, so much of that stuff couldn't be made anymore due either to budget constraints or the blueprints having gotten lost during the collapse. This kind of thing being on a civilian ship was suspicious to say the least. There were rare cases of archive-tech being available on black markets, but generally only the major powers had access to relics or the capability to make small amounts of the stuff. As a result you could often use archive-tech components as an indicator of who had made something. Which power had had a hand in my duplicitous scheme I wondered. It was time to find out.

Vemt pushed away the glass interface and then used a wrist mounted computer to compose a request for information about the cloaking device. After he sent it the message first went to the local radio tower, from which it was sent to the planets only interstellar relay. There its inquisitorial signature bumped it to the head of the queue to be broadcast out from Rotatha 4 via a micro wormhole generated within the relay. From there it pinged from world to world until it arrived back at the capital world and inquisition hq. There it retrieved classified info from the theocracy’s tech database, in the process tripping a number of data snooping systems installed by the vaios departments of the inquisition itself. Two of these automated systems managed to trip over each other when they noticed the search request and attached report explaining why the request had been made, each detecting that the other had noticed something relevant with the data and bringing all of this to the attention of their respective creators. It took about 10 minutes for the subsequent inter departmental meeting to unveiled a colossal fuckup in internal comunication. Vempt, entirely unaware of all this chain of events he had set off, continued to dig through the ship’s computer till a small beep from his wrist informed him the data he wanted had arrived.

It was at this same moment that a man came through the door holding a gun.

Volemstad, Ethera, Capital of Volkadia
Confederate Senate
5800 CE

The various Governors across Volkadia were in attendance, all watching from afar as the Vodca made his way to the speaking stand in the middle of the room. The crowd had been mostly talking amongst each other about the issues of the day, and there were many. Not too long ago, several Isolationist protests against the government had taken place, led by their less then loved leaders. These protests didn't turn violent until much later in the following week, with two reported injuries. Who the Isolationists were fighting didn't matter, all the Governers cared about was that the protests turned violent under their watch, and that the police for the first time since the days before the Leadership simply watched from their barricades. The Isolationists had been protesting for weeks against the agenda of the current Vodca, Maximilián Pokorny, the man coming to speak in front of the gathered assembly.
The reasoning for this violence was utterly unknown to Max, who had heard of Isolationist groups having increased membership due to his obvious plans to extend diplomacy, and even a favorable alliance, to Astrana. The other Governers were not on board, yet, but this debate had simply been delayed. As Max passed down the aisle, he read the room, noticing the reluctance of many of the Governers. Three of them were hovered around a media screen, watching the protests unfold, perhaps even convinced the people did not want to extend hands to other nations. It was moments like these which Max felt less worried, having politically prepared for this moment over the year in advance.
As he approached the stand, he rubbed his elder chin and began to speak to the audience of other Governers in attendance.

"My fellows and peers, good morning for some of you." He stopped, looking at a hologram projection. Sometimes when a Governer could not make it, they held projection calls. He smiled "And for the rest of you, afternoon."

"As we open the day, please, bow your heads for service." The Governers stopped speaking rather suddenly and all in the room bowed their heads. A elderly preacher read from his copy of the Will of the Lord to those in attendance. "Spiritus, Bless these good and mighty men as they bring our nation to the forefront of your will! Lord! Blessed be the founders, the reformers, and the good administrators, let their hearts live for you, serve you, and bring glory in your name! Glory glory glory!"

The audience in attendance responded loudly "Glory glory glory!"

Maximilián began to speak, as was custom with these heavy debates, all of them started with heavy handed speeches, many which could last for several hours. Maximilián spoke of the good graces of the men in the room, but the reality was, he was sickened by them. He had to gather votes throughout the year with bribes, threats, and other general nonsense, with the aid of his fellow governor Július Smutný, the elder conservative leader and perhaps his greatest ally in the senate. Július and Max had passed a bill three months ago which restored finances of families who had lost big money in failed colonial ventures, bailing out a number of highly conservative families who had normally been Max's rivals in the Senate. Max had also helped the conservatives threaten a number of Reactionary governors, defeating a bill which would formally reward Blackguard status to Admiral Gabriel Novák. While Maximilián help no love for Július, the two shared the same opinion of extending the hand of Volkadia to other neighboring nations and establishing a diplomatic core. Max finished up his speech and made did something rather unsuspected. Rather then go the normal order of discussing military issues, Max had decided to speak directly about the state of affairs of diplomacy.

"The first order of business is to finally decide as to how to deal with out neighbors, gentlemen and ladies. Me, and many of you, have already made it clear that as our nation expands and grows, we bump into the affairs of other nations. I too remember Aurolian ships seen above the planet of Oakus, we have all seen the devestation brought by war upon our lands, but can we survive another future war by ourselves? Should we give that responsibility solely to our children, not knowing we could not save them? On your screens, you can see a new law we should pass, expanding our diplomatic core, hiring ambassadors, and formally bringing our old war allies, the people of Astrana, into the fold formally as allies."

As predicted, many of those which Max had helped previously didn't even bother to read the bill nor debate, and things were going well. However, a rather annoying and less pleasant voice was heard from the back of the senate room.

"This bill, I am certain is a fine bill, Governor Pokorny, but isn't this bill a bit pricey? Is no one really going to debate this? What if we are pulled into a war by Astrana?" Max froze at the word, a poisonous word in the current political sphere. He knew who this man was, a rather young and uppity populist named Eduard Hornik. Eduard arose from his seat to speak, skipping over parts of the bill to cherry pick. "I can see this still a very fine bill, but it is a horrible bill! Can you honestly expect a bill like this to be taken seriously? Look at this, over half a million credits just to promote a ambassador? What is this, bribery?"

The other governors looked at Eduard, but weren't exactly not agreeing with them. Max wanted to speak out on this, mostly because he needed an experienced ambassador, with a ship, crew, and reasonable amount of money to do their tasks, but he couldn't speak up against a Governor like Eduard. Eduard was by all means a utter idiot, but a convinced many in the room and abroad it seemed of his qualifications. Max half suspected that the rich Horniks had payed a mountain in bribes to establish themselves as a political family, and now Eduard had finally gotten a seat in the house as representative of reactionaries, and a powerful anchor for Isolationists who openly supported him.

"I have to agree with Eduard on this one Max, some of this bill is a bit expensive." Pointed out one of the senators, another spoke up as well. "Aye, this is a terrible idea. Astrana brought us into a war which we didn't gain anything but dust and bones!" Other voices murmered for awhile before full debate broke out. Max stared onward at the smirking face of Eduard, who had now just fallen silent as the debate turned lively. Despite being a utter fool, Max had felt personally terrified of how much of a skilled politician Eduard had been, despite being a populist by heart.

As the room began to become more loud with debate, Max smacked his hand harshly against the podium. "If we cannot settle this like men, let paper decide!" He yelled at the audience, anger in his voice. The crowd settled down as Max stepped down from the Podium. Calling for a paper vote amongst the Governors was risky, since there could be no bad interpretations of who allowed the law to pass by oral vote. However, neither Max or Július had anything to worry about, since the two's alliance with one another assured the natural majority of conservatives already secured the vote. Yet, as the the Govenrers were voting on computer screens, debating with one another more quietly, Eduard and another Governer named Zuzana Jillemničková were having a fierce argument. Zuzana was a progressive liberal at heart and a staunch ally of Maximilián, and when she began talking, her condescending and overly progressive personality could be heard across the room.

"You are nothing more then a pig in cloths, you damn fool!" Zuzana yelled at Eduard. A number of senators turned their attention to the two arguing, with Max and Július sitting next to each other in the front row, talking about what was happening. The two turned their attention to them, with Július simply commenting to Max "Two morons lashing out on a the senate floor? Truly our ancestors are rolling in their graves."
"At least one of those morons will vote for this bill. I cannot believe we allowed that man to become a Governor."

Július nodded, but then the two looked against when Zuzana during the heated argument slapped Eduard across the face harshly. A silence fell over the room as Max looked on to see that Eduard has been cut. He didn't flinch, but he could almost feel the smirk as his obvious ally had brought almost certain doom to his bill. Max arose along with Július and went over, with Governors separating the two heated senators.
"You need to put that dog on a leash!" Eduard shouted at Max. He looked at Zuzana, who didn't seem to think she had done anything truly wrong, but gave her own quirk back "At least I don't treat women like dogs, huh? You are nothing but a weak man Eduard!" The two senators scoffed at one another, but Max and Július pulled the rabid populist aside to a corner of the room. Realizing what could possibly happen from these series of unfortunate events, Max spoke first to the disgruntled politician bluntly.

"Governor, what will it take for you to support this bill."

Eduard looked rather confused at first, but recollected. Much to Max's surprise, and personal horror, the man looked to almost gain a sudden bout of competence and dignity. "Easy. Like I said, I like the bill Pokorny, but we cannot have war, not at this time, not ever. You want my support, I have a good man, the best man, who is the most skilled for the job such as this at only a tenth of the cost! More importantly, I don't want war to appear in the next 10 years, at least, okay?"

Július and Max looked at one another, and looked back at Eduard and nodded their heads. Max raised his arms and clapped. "My fellow senators! There has been a revision! Please, before you vote know this. The bill I propose will forbid agreeing to demands of a war ally for 10 years, and we have a new ambassadorship filled which had reduced the cost by 90%! Please, continue to vote, for the good faith of Volkadia!" He yelled loudly for the other Governors to hear. They didn't really answer and debated awkwardly until Eduard spoke up as well.

"My fellow Senators, peers, and best friends! I know you are worried about these bills, I am too, not always the best bills, but it still a good bill! We need allies, friends, in troubling times such as this. Volkadia cannot survive without good and powerful forces aligned with us, but please, I support this bill, and so should you. Do not let petty grievances abide you." Eduard spoke with about as much tact as a dying horse, but his message was clear. Even when attacked, his blessing looked politically good for Max who smiled. The vote had won predictably, but it was close, two conservatives had been appalled by the violence in the room and made their woes clear to Max and Július. Max sighed with relief, and the day's lasting debates could at least continue without dramatic affairs

---

Once things could be formally decided upon, as promised, Eduard introduced the Vodca to a friend named Marek Biely, meeting him in a factory office. Marek himself would not go, but a company spokesperson named Ladislav Kováč would act in his stead. Ladislav was in fact a very skilled negotiator when Max met him, and as promised, the Lotisbard Ammunition and Storage Company would float most of the bill for ships, crews, and translators, thus making his purchase dirt cheap. Maximilián, while not fully happy that a company stooge of a idiotic rival would be the voice of Volkadia to be sent to Astrana to form an alliance, it was at least a stepping stone in the right direction, and he would just have to chalk it up to yet another political sacrifice.

Ladislav was named ambassador and granted the repurposed convoy ship The Star Seeker to carry him to Astrana to lead the negotiations in person. A communications is sent from the office of Vodca to the current diplomatic channels telling of their ambassador's arrival. On his way to the empire, Ladislav studied hard on the current political ramblings and issues of their empire, and once he arrived close to their space, he used the diplomatic channels saying he would greet with a representative on his ship. Those that do arrive are greeted by Landislav's crew of rich Volkadian courtiers, pampered by good chefs, excellent rooms, and a small force of Oturan servants who keep their guests comfy, Once ready to meet Ladislav, he was in the main meeting room of the ship, a long table with holographic computers, preparing to present a diplomatic offer from his home country.

---

The Political Issues of the Day. . .
Volkadian Core Worlds
5800 CE

Political issues in the senate had been tense, but not as tense as the political discourse amongst the commoner rabble which formed outside. The past year, the Vodca had made it clear through speeches and action of his intention to extend the preverbal olive branch to other nations, which began a hot issue almost over night. Expansionists within the confederacy loved the idea greatly, and had been out in number to support the Vodca. Yet, it was the Isolationist groups and small ragtag militias who had been causing problems for the past year. Two high profile murders had taken place, with a Isolationist madman opening fire on police officers before being shot down himself, killing one and injuring two. Another Isolationist in the colonies had stabbed to death a Expansionist news editor, which caused a larger debate wether or not to call the fringe political movement terrorists. What saved them was their numbers and presence on the capital world of Ethera, and many had been protesting the diplomatic movements for a good long while.

Violence did erupt on the day of the vote, again caused by Isolationists. Having tired of these political games, the Vodca ordered that all protesters be removed from the streets and that freedom of the press in the capital was to be suppressed of political opinion for the next few months. To the Isolationists, this was a grand victory, who complained openly about the lack of freedom under the republic and it's blatant attempts to censor them. Yet, victory in this regard did not come without defeat, as a number of Isolationists also found themselves feeling betrayed by the reactionary politican Eduard Hornik, who had originally opposed the upcoming diplomatic expansion but now was in support of it. His reactionary core base still believed in him, but debate amongst his home followers dwindled, especially the Isolationists who had supported him heavily by acting as his propaganda wing. Yet, they were not the only loser that day.

Maximilián Pokorny is still considered a major uniter of many liberal movements, but as he was debating economics during the later part of the day, he had skipped over social issues. This greatly angered many of his Abolitionist supporters especially, as Max had become rather infamous amongst them for skipping social issues to focus on welfare reforms. The Abolitionists were major supporters and even helped him financially with his election to become Vodca. Yet, his refusal to even touch the issue of slavery had made many Abolitionists feel betrayed by the social liberals. As Abolitionist movements began to pull funding from political centers run by Max's social liberals, many progressive liberals began to use social media to openly mock and spark vicious debate with the mostly conservative Abolitionist base, wedging a further divide between the two. When a Progressive Liberal blogger had begun posting online pictures of subtly abusing and shocking the collar of a Oturan slave to annoy a conservative Abolitionist, Abolitionists supporters doxxed the blogger and contacted a local Overseer, who performed his duty by dragging the blogger out of her home during a family dinner and shooting her face blank. The shocked family complained to the government and sparked even more hatred and outrage across the political sphere, but many Oturan news networks and blogs began to criticize the Abolitionists and the government for the execution, which only complicated these political problems even more.

Yet another more existential threat had seemingly been on the horizon, the economy. The Volkadia stock market had been rather very slow to rise, causing investors to worry that there would be a major recession in Volkadia sooner or later. While government officials and business leaders had been promising that the economy would not be under severe stress if they invested more, there has been a lull in the Volkadia stocks for some time. To prevent a possible problem from occurring, a economic law was passed during the meeting of the senate after it's diplomatic vote which spent a huge amount of saved up government money to expand several Volkadian parks and cities, signaling to investors that things were calm in the government and stock market. While it did encourage some new investments, the market was still highly suspicious and many of the men and women who walked into it's structures began to plan to sell their stocks near a later date.

Collab between me and Yen.

-----


Norma Expanse
Deep Space
For six decades, they've been left to rot, to be forever forgotten in the cold embrace of the void. Although the Expanse War had long been over and done with, the scars and signs left behind still lingered, moving aimlessly through the void. A large graveyard of starship wreckage had accumulated over the years, warships of Aurolian, Astranan and even Volkadian designs were slowly melding together to form this vast graveyard, an ever present and sore reminder of a conflict long ago, and of past sins.

The crackling sound of the comms unit on the Valkyrie vessel emitted across the entirety of its halls, and rooms. “All personnel prepare for docking with a MVDA. Attachment crews ready yourselves at airlocks.” The science vessel drifted closer to the wreckage graveyard, normally they’d explore these sorts of space anomalies simply for the chance to possibly develop new technology, but this time they’d been paid to do so.

As the vessel reached the optimal range it’s thrust rotated so that it brought its port to the combination of warship remnants. Doors opened across the port side of the ship, hissing as the airlock released. Women wearing thrusters on their backs traversed the space between the wreckage and the science vessel, trailing behind them thick cables with self welding pads. The women attached the pads to the wreckage, and immediately the pads turned a bright orange as steel bubbled and melted together.

A voice came over the comms once more as one of the women involved in the attachment gave the all clear to reel themselves in safely to the dead vessel. Captain Viola stepped to the long range communications console and tapped in several passcodes and finally a frequency. “This is Science Lab Vessel Alpha of the Starburst Valkyrie Corporation, we are in contact with the MVDA, requesting final mission parameters from the URAS.”

Several moments passed before they received a response. "This is Seventh Fleet Command." Spoke a masculine voice. "Your recovery teams are to thoroughly search the ARS Vanquisher for the aforementioned object, once the weapon as has been retrieved and is secured, you are to immediately link up with the Seventh Fleet to the assigned rendezvous point." There was a brief pause before the voice spoke up. "Good Luck."

The long range communicator was switched off and Viola returned to her Captain’s seat on the bridge. She ran her fingers along the console on the arm of her seat and opened up communications to her own ship once more. “I need four retrieval teams to head over to the MVDA, Carlyle, Sanchez, Baily, and Davis you will lead the teams. Ten security troopers, and an engineer each. Midfield, i want security details at every airlock in case we run into any nasties and they try to get on board with us. Be careful ladies.” Viola closed the comms and gave a sigh as she stared at her screen. “We’re supposed to be researchers, not field operatives.”

The four teams had already suited up, wearing the traditional combat gear for void troopers. Using the cables they pulled themselves to the void wreckage, and activated their magnetic boots and worked their way inside either using holes already available, or by using magna cutters to remove door shaped plates. Flashlights on their helmets illuminated the areas, the troopers taking point as their HUDs fed information to them on their surroundings, and their current firearms condition.

Once the light pushed away the darkness within the corridors of the derelict vessel, the troopers witnessed a rather troublesome sight, a horde of Void Leeches latching onto nearly every corner of the hall, the flashlights disturbing the beasts as a number of the leeches detached themselves from the walls and begun angrily floating towards the intruders.

“We have void leeches.”

“We do too”

Confirmation from all four teams down came about the void leeches, though this was quickly followed by shooting, the weaponry of the teams tearing through the creatures in the hall, using the funneling effect there to make quick work of the ones before them. “Clear!” Came from Alpha team and was echoed by the rest along with a report of no casualties. The teams continued down the halls clearing any side rooms as they went.

Once the excitement of the skirmish had died down, and as the troopers moved deeper into the insides of the Vanquishers, the atmosphere slowly grew more...isolated, the recovery teams passing by floating corpses of the long dead crew, their bodies disturbingly preserved in the dark void, their faces frozen in anguish, their final painful moments on display for all to see. It was an unsettling sight to behold. In one section of the ship, a trooper had begun to notice...shadows moving on the corner of her eye.

Alpha team stopped as the comms opened up, and apparently Davis team had located the target. Davis began to punch codes into the container for the bomb slowly working through its passwords, and pins so that she could get the core removed. Meanwhile the rest of the troops had begun setting up to leave, Alpha team being the first to start heading for the exit. “Returning to homeship Captain eta ten minutes” Sanchez reported over the comms. Everyone though was on edge, still looking around for whatever those fleeting shadows were.

The "shadows" that had briefly stalked the halls, following the recovery teams had soon made themselves known, old, rusted Republic Warbots had emerged from darkened halls, several entering the same room as the recovery team that had found the bomb. One of the old warbots raised its rifle towards one of the troops, discharging its weapon as chemrails shot through the nozzle, tearing through one of the troopers, the other bots follow suit as they fired their weapons. "In the name of the Republic! Stand down!" the warbots chanted through the comm channels.
.
“Son of a bitch we have malfunction droids!” Suddenly flooded the channel, Davis moved down behind the bomb to keep some cover as she fired her pistol from around the corner. The rest of the troopers taking covered behind what they could returning fire and knocking down a few of the rusted robots. The rest of the teams began moving towards Davis position tactically, shooting through whatever warbots were in their way as they went. However Bailey’s team got pinned up in the cafeteria, where there seemed to be a large amount of the warbots.

“We’re pinned we can’t make it to Davis team, we’ll be fine though we can hold them off!” Bailey shouted over the comms as two of her troopers now lay dead on the floor having been shot through by the chemrail guns.

Several squads of the malfunctioning warbots continued their advance on the pinned mercenaries, weapons fire peppering the walls of the kitchen. "In the name of the Republic! s-ssxzsddzzzs" The voice box of the robot begun to screech over the comm channel as it broke down from the wear and tear.

Bravo and charlie teams began to tear through the Robots attacking Davis position burning through them as she was finally able to remove the bomb core. “Let’s go! Everyone out!” She yelled over the comm system. Alpha team remained quiet for a moment as they continued to fire at the Robots piling in the room.

“We aren’t going to get out of here! Complete the mission!” Another trooper fell, that was four so far, plus the engineer had gone down in the hallway. Bailey stood up and threw a chaff grenade, it distorted the troopers heads up displays, but also played with the Robots targeting systems. Though it wasn’t enough as a shot made it through her chest and sent her to the floor gasping for a few fleeting moments as the vacuum collapsed her lungs and crushed her heart.

The rest of the teams were rushing towards the exit, and began using their thrusters to clear the space between the wreckage and the science vessel. Any robots that followed were torn apart by Midfield’s teams waiting at the airlocks.

More and more of the warbots had converged on the retreating mercenaries, fruitlessly assault the airlocks in waves, their wreaked bodies piling up to the point of blockage. "sZZZZHHHHH" Was all that could be heard now, the warbots overworking themselves to fend off the intruders, but to no avail.

As the last of Bravo, Charlie, and Delta teams got inside the science vessel, and Midfield shut the airlocks, they could hear the cries of the remaining troopers in the wreckage as they were murdered. Viola growled. “Fire broadside turrets I don’t want those piles of junk getting on my ship!” The Science vessel using what little firepower it had began to fire into the openings the robots were coming out of, it wasn’t strong enough to destroy a ship but it was easily enough to destroy the robots.

The warbot bodies poured out from the hole made upon their forceful entry, those warbots that still functioned floated out, making themselves easy targets as the Science Vessel's guns begun tearing through them into scrap metal until they stopped their advance all together.

The science vessel veered away and put distance between itself and the wreckage, already an officer tallying up the dead, and placing price markers next to their names as assets lost. Viola gave a sigh. “Plot a course for the Seventh Fleet, we have a package to deliver.” The nav officer tapped into the console plotting the course, and finally the FTL drive kick into life and with a small popping sound the science vessel was moving as quickly as possible to rendezvous with Seventh fleet.


Aurolian Border
Corona System
Some hours had passed since the mission, the Science vessel closing in on the rendezvous point as it emerged from a Warp Gate, met with oncoming space traffic, ships lining up for Warp Gate travel. The Seventh Fleet however, was not too far behind, as over a hundred warships cluttered together, circling around the Corona Warp Gate as they awaited for the arrival of their package.

As the Science vessel got closer a shuttle release from it’s bay. Within was Midfield and a small security team along with the bomb core. Rather gracefully it docked with the flagship of the Seventh Fleet, Midfield and the security team walking down the shuttle’s ramp with the package in tow on a hover cart. “Release package into your custody as requested.”

A rather imposing Scorpine dressed in an Admiral's uniform approached Valkyrie with several marine guards. The Scorpine made an attempt to "smile" to show his appreciation for this dire task. "Excellent work." The Scropine spoke. "And as agreed, you will be paid handsomely for your troubles and further compensated for any casualties and damages taken." The Admiral motioned to the marines to take the core, without a word spoken, the marines walked over, the security team moving out of their way to as they took the core elsewhere within the dreadnought. "A pleasure doing business, as always." The Admiral said as he took his leave. He hesitated for a moment, turning to face Midfield. “And I trust this stays between us?”

Midfield gave a nod, handing over the device without even a word. “What stays between us Admiral?” She says with a nod and steps back into the shuttle followed by the security detail. They were off and back to the science vessel in seconds flat.

Skyport Ussviset
Esevrenn City-Hive
Ske'sta'Rvastre

Although she had never seen any herself, Issrin knew that the skyports of major inner galactic planets were, for the most part, grandiose things, vast enough to allow hundreds of thousands of passengers to go in or out and inevitably wait some hours for their vessel to land. She had heard of the bustle, the noise and smells, the decorations, and could imagine them well enough if she thought of a capital bio-plant. Thus, despite lacking any experience by way of comparison, she knew she much preferred skyports as they were in the Nests, even disregarding the matter of human-sized passageways. Ussviset expressed her sentiment perfectly: despite being arguably one of the most important landing sites on no less than Ske'sta'Rvastre, the seat of the Assembly and every corporation whose name was a nest-hold word, it had a subdued, somewhat quaint - provincial, a human would have called it - air about itself. The entryway building was unassuming, much shorter than the average housing spire, and its chambers were a soft, pleasant hue of greenish-brown. It was past high noon, and the halls were almost empty, with only the occasional group of Zsresriir or single Scorpine idly crawling by. The scent was earthy, almost pristine.

Beyond the access structure, several paths branched off towards different parts of the site. Issrin followed the main connection to the landing pad area past the temporary storage silos, then split away from the thin stream of passers-by headed to the public departure terminals and took a turn into a narrower pathway winding deeper into the skyport. Despite her status, she had never travelled through an official-only access hive - her work, much less her life had never taken her offworld before, and even this last time the Assembly had barely bothered to reimburse her standard shipping tax. Now, she would see the restricted zone of not just any port, but of one on Ske'sta'Rvastre, and she could not help but feel curious. How did the core's elites treat themselves on their business journeys, she wondered?

It turned out that the core's elites either wanted to make a show of their frugality or outright lacked the budget to have something entirely presentable. The path that led to the hive did not feel worn and its lack of visible security was not to be trusted, but it certainly cut and wound through some odd places. The vegetation around it was overgrown, and once it passed not too far away from a sparsely fenced scrapyard, with what Issrin was certain were a pair of ferals digging through it. The access building was little better, being unassuming on the outside, though slightly more spacious than the entry halls within. The only marked improvement was in the smell, which was even fresher here, likely due to there being even less people about.

In fact, she only noticed one group standing in the further half of the central chamber. They were an odd assemblage – the four armed Zsresriir wearing light combat membranes were its least remarkable members. More remarkable was the large shape crouching in their midst. It was the first time Issrin saw a live Rekshai, and the impression was not a pleasant one. She could smell it from across the room, a faint, pungent blend of alien flesh, metal and chemical-ridden blood; undoubtedly, it could perceive her much better. Its bulk shifted somewhat, and she caught the gleam of a narrow, inexpressive eye. By a reflex she did not suppress, she snapped her mandibles and raised her carapace in a threatening stance. The Rekshai turned away with an air of disinterest. If they were taking it here without restraints, it must have been a mostly cooperative specimen, albeit the Zsresriir around it were conspicuously holding their pulse rifles at the ready.

The sixth figure in the group was squat, bulky and donning an oblong breather mask. As it gestured, engaged in conversation with one of the Zsresriir, the chitinous blades of the rear of its arms briefly flashed into view. One of those Lonoxi people. It was a wonder how so many of them managed to find their way here, though it seemed that most of them were clones. A suspicion stirred in Issrin’s mind. This motley could very well have been one of the things that held that way open. As far as she knew, the Repopulators organised this whole operation, and they could give their people passage via the restricted port zones, as well as being more selective about what went into their vats than who they hired to do their work.

With a distant sound of plodding footsteps, an armoured Ulthari appeared from one of the shadowed recesses in the back wall and beckoned to the creatures with a gesture. The group raised itself from its folded legs and shuffled, or in the Rekshai's case loped, into the awning corridor entrance. The chamber was left empty, save for Issrin, who idly followed the departing crew with her eyes until it disappeared into the unlit passage. The Lonoxi had still been gesturing all the way-

Schreetch.

She turned, rather swiftly for her bulk, in the direction the sound had come from. It had been the customary call for attention of the Rvasstran Zsresriir, but with some clear, almost crass metallic undertones and obviously artificial modulation. Indeed, it was a human shape in nondescript grey and black, likely some low-ranked uniform, that was walking towards her from one of the side ends, one hand raised in a reasonably good imitation of a greeting gesture. She responded in kind.

"You have been directed here by the Transstellar diplomatic service, yes?"

At least he - as it seemed from the artificial voice, which was set to a male timbre - was more polite than that Qiormu¹. Not that it was saying much, but it was a start. She motioned her assent. "Censor-Inspector Tesri Nth'issrin. Issrin." Her mandibles rapped against one another. "I wasn't told why I should be here."

"You weren't?" The human cocked his head aside in perplexity. "It's up to me, then. Ovrith Terech, Free Speaker-"

He was about to continue, but Issrin interrupted him as he was audibly inhaling. "Terech, like that Prophet from Volthanek?"

The Speaker nodded. "Like him. Better said, a clone offshoot of his. See-" he gestured as if to pull the subject back where he had left it, "- Issrin, call me Ovrith, please, we're about to leave the Vacuus. You do know the Assembly is sending regular officer support to the Neo-Scorpine." He recoiled slightly as the large Zsresriir stepped up to loom over him, impatient annoyance glistening in her eyes despite them being perfectly inexpressive. "We are attached to the expedition core as links to the Coalition. To ease relations, well, talks..." His mask's translator fell silent as his true voice died somewhere in his throat. Issrin had raised her forelimbs dangerously close to his head and chest, and by how their talons were twitching it seemed she was likely to vent her pent-up anger on the sorry sack of intestine and endoskeleton before her.

"I must leave Nest space?!" she almost screeched in a way that would have sent the dullest, hungriest of ferals scurrying off. "NOW?!" The sound was loud enough to draw the attention of whatever was lurking in one of the side corridors. A hideous, yet oddly sleek and, in its way, striking head of skin and chitin curiously edged its way out of the shadows. An asymmetrical arrangement of many-coloured eyes glanced at the scene as multiple parallel tooth-lined lateral jaws dripped and clicked below them. Issrin motioned that nothing was the matter, and the head disappeared.

"The worst idea they could have..." She began to his something in her native dialect, then checked herself and paced to the further wall and back, slightly spinning her arms at their joints as she went. Terech smoothed his uniform with practiced, yet nervous gestures. "Does that mean you decline?" he ventured at last.

"No." came a more even droning answer. "It's another way of pushing Cultors around, in the end. There better be a relay terminal somewhere here."

"Not far at all, just before the exit." The human seemed relieved, for all that could be discerned under his mask. "Your nest?"

"Not mine." Issrin made the sign of descendance. "I'm a drone, you could say." She was not certain whether that expression² was so well known here. Casting her eyes around, she swayed towards the opening where the strange head had emerged from. "There are many hybrids here?"

Terech shook his head. "That's a human, if you'll believe it, one of these unborn augmented. It should be a Speaker to Perseus. They ought' take better to one of theirs, by the plan."

"About that," Issrin snapped, "why does the Assembly need me with the Scorpines?"

"Not as anything too complex. The expedition scheme had it we'd have someone for ethnic representation..." His voice trailed off again as the Zsresriir unfolded her shell in a worse than foreboding manner. "I think we should go find that terminal," he managed to find the thread again, "it's almost time. Sky Commandant Uchinex, our core, I mentioned, might already be waiting. He's an admirable personality, really..."

Their voices trailed off as they walked into the central corridor, Terech occasionally lengthening his steps to keep pace with Issrin's broad strides. From the darkness, an asymmetrical web of eyes watched them disappear for lack of anything better to do.

After the prerecorded message had concluded Theodore was left in the relative silence of the fighters cockpit to muse the implications of what he'd been told. It wasn't that he disagreed with Lucien’s plan, quite the opposite actually, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation when he considered the myriad of ways this could all go so, so wrong. No, he knew that line of thought was a trap. The decisions being made were above his pay grade, he’d been given a job to do and it was best he focused on it.

Of course, there wasn’t a lot to focus on just yet. The Ecumene had called this meeting, and they’d have the initiative in whatever discussion took place; at least until he found an angle that let him push the agenda he’d been given. Well, if nothing else he could make sure he was composed. Before he’d left Theodore had tried his best to look prepared, but already he could tell the cramped journey was going to take its toll. The fighter wasn't hot but a mixture of nerves from his recent revelation and a rather poorly chosen meal, he'd been expecting a proper shuttle with facilities after all, had begun to worry him when it came to the state of his appearance. Finding a more reflective black screen to his side, its function a mystery he didn’t care to unravel, he surveyed himself. It wasn’t much a mirror, and the way it distorted his face hardly helped, but with a grimace he noted the already disorderly state of his once carefully combed brown hair. With little else to do he went about correcting that.

It was hours, of that there was no doubt, but still he managed to be surprised and unprepared when the HUD flashed a warning and the long range fighter dropped out of warp. He couldn't see them, but the small crafts sensors assured him a fleet equivalent to those that'd been fighting at the front back home was waiting for him, which was a tad disconcerting. Nevertheless he did his best to finish straightening out his suit as an Ecumene transmission came through, the fighter automatically recognizing the command and complying with the request to accept an escort.

The landing went smoothly, and Theodore stepped out of the cockpit with as much grace as he could summon, but at the end of the day climbing down a little ladder was only so dignified. Once he was out he made his way to the four waiting for him, at least two of which he could easily identify as guards and disregard when it came to the forthcoming greetings. The other two he identified by their dress. He knew enough about military trends to identify the officer, and the priest was a given considering the nature of the Ecumene.

There was a rather stark juxtaposition between Theodore and the two though; where he wore a simple black suit, the diplomatic uniform of ancient Humania, the Ecumene's delegation were rather unabashedly opulent in their fashion. A trifling detail, but one that spoke at length about who he was to negotiate with. The Ecumene officer spoke first, “Welcome aboard the Righteous Truth ambassador. I am Admiral Talaran Victrix, commander of this Fleet and High Lord of The Ecumene Navy. The individual next to me is his holiness Raynald Dagenais, High Priest of Orion.”

Theodore smiled cordially and shook the mans hand, “I am pleased to be here. Theodore Allard, designated and empowered representative of the Economic Council of the Great Resurrection.”

With that out of the way the priest invited him to follow the pair into the ship proper. The length of their walk spoke to the scale of the ship, the tapping of the Priest's staff serving to set a pace that while not rushed delivered them to their destination as expediently as could be hoped. The room they stopped at was clearly outfitted for relaxation, or more likley purpose built for diplomatic exchange, either way it was more luxurious in its furnishings than anything Theodore had seen on a military vessel in the past. Talaran ordered the guards to wait in the hallway and the three seated themselves, Theodore keeping a respectful distance but not going so far as to make conversation inconvenient. A minor, but important part of the game.

After Theordore sat Rynard began, “We can speak here for a time, afterwards you can proceed on into the sanctuary,” He motioned towards a pair of large elaborately engraved doors on the opposite end of the room that bore artistic depictions of Orion’s legendary life, “What happens in there then is between you and The Conclave.”

Theodore nodded as an android went about serving some minor refreshments. He partook, though not in excess. The candy he helped himself too was good, though a fair bit sweeter than he was accustom to, its centre filled with a paste that could only be lightly flavoured sugar.

“Your war with the Scorpines, it’s become quite the talk of the Coalition membership. How do your people fare against those….threats?” Raynald asked, his voice tinged with unmistakable disgust as he said the word ‘Scorpine’ almost as if he was repulsed at having to pronounce it.

“Ah,” Theodore paused a moment in thought, “I cannot attest to the details, I am not a military man of course, but favourably enough that the setback of two years ago was news. A layman I might be, but I cannot imagine a single hiccup in thirty years speaks to anything but the superiority of our forces.”

"We've heard scattered reports that you're mounting a successful counter-offensive. Although I imagine it may be some time before the Scorpines are broken completely," Talaran added, as he withdrew a small candied confection from the plate and popped it into his mouth, "We've received communications from various Scorpine military sources requesting to know why the Fleet is stationed so close to their territory. We've provided the same response each time: the Fleet of Faithful Intent is here to ensure that the war does not spill over into the Ecumene. Nothing more. A deterrent if you will. I'm not surprised they are uncomfortable however, considering the reputation of this fleet amongst non-human elements of the galaxy."

As the Ecumene officer spoke another android entered, this time bearing an assortment of drinks. Though he showed no sign of it, Theodore waited for his turn to seize one with the mad anticipation of a man who'd been thoroughly unprepared to sit in a cramped cockpit for hours on end with only limited food and drink. When he tried the drink it was fruity, and clearly expensive, but above all else it was refreshing enough Theodore suppressed the urge to grin.

"The Admiral had previously been assigned to the Cygnus V system," Raynald explained after the drunks had been passed out, "The fleet was deployed to crush the resistance against humanity there, and ensure it fell once again back into the rule of the heirs of Orion's Mantle. The treachery of the Alien can indeed be a devious prospect. Thankfully, the full firepower of the fleet's carriers made them see the error of their ways."

"A philosophical question Ambassador, if you would be so kind as to indulge me while we wait for your audience to begin," Raynald continued, "Where do you see the path of humanity's destiny leading? What is our purpose here now and throughout these long years of our existence? From the mists of our earliest days, through the misguided domination of the Empire, to now: where is our path taking us?"

Now that, Theodore thought, was an unexpected question. Of course, he supposed philosophy was the natural domain of priests, not that he was religious enough to have any real firsthand experience in the matter. Still, nobody lacked for opinions on matters like that, religious or not. In his case, Theodore held the same opinion as the man he was here to represent, “Our destiny? A large question, High Priest, but one that all have considered I suppose. I imagine you might expect a different answer from a Resurrectionist, after all in no part of the galaxy do the stereotypes about us fail to precede our arrival, but if I were to guess what our purpose is? I would say Prosperity. In ancient days wars were fought with resources in mind, and indeed what is the point of amassing resources is they are not used to better the lives of their possessors? It seems to me that in from our earliest days to now the greatest drive of man has been his own well being. Some would call it a selfish thing, but only if they fail to see the truth of it.”

Theodore took a greedy sip of his drink and went on, “To care for ones self is to eventually, inevitably, care for others. Our natural aim and our greater purpose are one in the same, to bring about prosperity for our species. The Empire was misguided as you say, and perhaps doomed because of it, but even it had that goal in mind. Ressurectionism, and many other ideologies besides, posit a great many things, but ultimately they suggest solutions to the problems which weigh us down and hold us back from attaining the utopia we have dreamed of for as long as we have existed.”

“But,” Theodore looked to the priest, “I must imagine you have your own opinion as to that question?”

The room was very ornate, even if they were not on a starship. The ceilings were high ‘supported’ by massive columns of ‘stone’. In truth it was quite hard to tell what was actually there and what was merely projected, it seemed like a bad idea to ask. The banners at least were real, Grenshal had to pass them up to the step two from the level of the throne. Even without court, there was an order to things, which was why he was waiting there now.

It was a few more minutes until the notification arrived on his implant and he spoke, “Great Lady, we have the success report from the assault team.”

He paused before continuing, “Eight casualties, one fatality- noted for particular valor in action and recommendation for honorable service commendation, approve?”

Princess Ghenrinzeb put down her gilded cup and put on her helmet of power armor before speaking, “Name, Clan and first degree?”

Grenshal replied, inclining his head briefly in place of the verbal honorific, “Guard Hrento fas’Varforan. Minor Clan Varforan, one husband, monogamous. Three children, one of two years of age, and two of one year of age. Mother deceased, Father injured in Aurolian War, mental, resistant to treatment.”

“Approve then, their family could use the extra subsidy. I take it the mining facility has been secured, as are its operators?”

“Yes, Great Lady. The field commander has reported that several of the rebels committed suicide rather than capture.” Both stopped to make the appropriate signs against evil before continuing. “He believes that most are various leaders of this rebellion, although a few do not correspond with known miners at this installation.”

Ghenrinzeb picked her cup back up and began to absentmindedly slosh its contents around, she leaned forward and spoke. “Hmm, it would explain where they received the equipment to resist this well against the Jhönar-Neopandorians if they were receiving outside help that is. It is good they decided to cede the facility to us, any indication of which group exactly supported this?”

“No specific indications Great Lady, I shall look into the matter.”

“Discreetly you will. Now There is the matter of the rest of the operators, I see they are appropriately organized but there is a ship listed on this manifest?”

“Yes, Great lady, the ship was found being guarded by several of the unknown members who later pulled back from it. We have established contact with those inside, they claim to have not been participants but rather prisoners of the unidentified forces. Their Captain has begged for leniency.”

Ghenrinzeb leaned back and took a sip considering for a long moment before replying. “They shall have it, for now, you may inform them they are obligated into service to prove their loyalty. As well reward loyal Qiormu groups first from these captives.”

“Yes, Great Lady. Would it please you to send a message informing the Palace of our delay here?”

“Yes. I will be ready in an hour, you may inform the field commander that once the operative are secured they may loot the quarters and such things, the facility needs to stay operational for a new staff. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, Great Lady. Thank you.” Grenshal bowed down keeping his eyes low as he backed down the steps and away from the throne, his mind focused on the various tasks he had now.

“Oh, One more thing Grenshal, which of the Human drinks was this?”

“I believe it to be the 'wine', Great Lady.”

“Hmm, carry on.”

“Yes, Great Lady.”

“To care for oneself is to eventually, inevitably, care for others. Our natural aim and our greater purpose are one in the same, to bring about prosperity for our species. The Empire was misguided as you say, and perhaps doomed because of it, but even it had that goal in mind. Ressurectionism, and many other ideologies besides, posit a great many things, but ultimately they suggest solutions to the problems which weigh us down and hold us back from attaining the utopia we have dreamed of for as long as we have existed.”

“But, I must imagine you have your own opinion as to that question?”

“Prosperity you say?” Raynald replied with an approving nod, “A fair answer. After all, what point is there for humans to merely exist in this universe? Should we not thrive as well? But I would perhaps extend that question a bit further, is prosperity alone reason enough for our existence?”

Raynald leaned back and briefly gazed upward, towards an elaborate mural on the ceiling which showed a visual depiction of the galaxy and all its vastness,

“I would submit different answer. Prosperity for humanity is only one goal to achieve an ultimate purpose. Humanity’s destiny, I believe, is not only to thrive in this universe, but to shape and guide it. Perhaps our destiny, our purpose, is to be described as gardeners. Tending to the galaxy and even beyond as one would tend to a plot. Prune what is unnecessary and that threatens the plot, but allowing what makes it beautiful to grow and thrive. That, I believe is our true destiny, not only to dominate the universe, but to shepard it. That is what it means to truly attain Orion’s Mantle.”

The high priest gave a subdued chuckle, and waved his hand dismissively,

“I know, a High Priest speaking of religion when answering a philosophical question. What an utterly predictable response. I know, too, that Resurrectionism does not share our belief in Holy Orion. However, I would simply say that one need not believe in Orion’s existence to see the value in his teachings. To believe in Orion, is simply to believe in the great value of the human spirit itself, beyond that of any other species. A Kineticist might try to argue that it is the ‘Spiritus’ or some other such divine energy that permeates the universe and gives it drive and purpose. Rubbish. There is no such thing. Orion was a mortal man, a mortal man who achieved divinity. The only divine will that acts on our universe is that which comes from Orion. And as heirs to Orion’s Mantle, it is our duty to see his will enacted on the universe and by doing so follow in his footsteps towards ascension. That, I believe, is humanity’s true destiny.”

Raynald gave a sigh, and a final word malice-laden word,

“And we won’t achieve that by kowtowing to Aliens or abiding corrupt governments which seek to aid them against humanity. Would you not agree ambassador?”

After a few moments, the Admiral stood up and offered his hand to the Ambassador,

“I think perhaps that is enough philosophy for one day. We don’t wish to exhaust you with such things before you’ve even had a chance to speak to The Conclave.”

“Indeed, forgive an old man his ramblings,” Raynald said as he likewise offered his hand, “I merely hoped to pass the time, and it seems I was successful in that.” He turned towards the double doors leading to the Sanctuary Chamber, which had now begun to open.

“Please, Ambassador, you are welcome inside. This is where we part for the time. As I said, your business inside is between you and The Conclave.”

The doors beckoned the Ambassador within, and closed firmly shut once he’d entered leaving the Admiral and the High Priest behind in the antechamber. The great circular sanctuary chamber was empty and devoid of furniture. The only visible feature being that of a raise dais at its center, illuminated by a single light emitted from the domed ceiling above. As he stepped forward, seven figures appeared in hologram around the dais and greeted him there,

“Greetings ambassador”, a central figure welcomed him warming. The image that of the Archpriestess Vayla Dreethen herself, “We have much to discuss I hope. I do not wish to waste your time further by waxing poetic or standing on elaborate ceremony. Your superiors sent you here to treat with us on our invitation with the understanding that we might both stand to gain from it. I will speak to the point then, The Ecumene of Holy Orion seeks to extricate ourselves from the corruption that is The Coalition and to reclaim the systems they control for the rightful heirs of Orion."

While the rest of the Conclave remained silent, their agreement to this statement seemed beyond question. The Archpriestess was no doubt speaking from authority for the Conclave entirely. She continued,

"To do so, we need allies. Those that are willing to do what needs to be done to ensure humanity’s ascendance. I despise the notion of playing both sides of this conflict or supporting the vile creatures that Orion himself once waged righteous war against. To support them against fellow humans is abominable. However, as the Resurrection currently is, we cannot allow them to threaten The Ecumene itself. I know what your members within the Ideological Council speak of us, whilst the Military Council would seek to supplant us in due time. It is then to the Economic Council that I appeal. If we might secure a firm and lasting alliance with your superiors, then I see no need to even consider support to the Scorpines. In fact, I would go so far as to say then that the final destruction of the Scorpines would be greatly in The Ecumene’s benefit, and indeed, eminently desirable. I trust that the carrier fleet to which you were offered safe passage to will speak to that desire...”

Half Life
Ethera, Volkadia
5800 CE

Its been several weeks since the capital had banned political opinions. Volemstad had been quieted by the military police, but outside the capital it had been a different story. Different Ethera cities had been filled with galactic wide protesters all across Volkadia. Isolationists had been complaining in their own circle about the suppression and have been calling politicans they supported several years ago traitors, continuing their tradition of ever shifting loyalties. Many local administrators often ended up kicking out the Isolationists before they could turn their grumbling into rioting. There was thankfulness in the air that the leaders of these Isolationist factions were not rioting at all, and had been for the most part since the political murders. Teetering on thin ice, the Isolationist movement eventually were able to peacefully gather in the large city of Ostrobkad on the far eastern continent of Ethera. While the current leaders and organizers warned against starting trouble, a small riot did eventually break out in the night by rowdy youths who smashed storefront windows and burned down the house of a alien migrant in the city.

The political violence of the Isolationists has not been without notice. Conservativies in the city of Volemstad had become more close to those who opposed their violent ways, and had been hosting the talking views of the much hated progressive liberals. An active Progressive Liberal philospher named Nina Rázusová was granted a platform amongst the celebrities and media darlings in Volemstad, in which she began to spout views of liberal democracy, social justice, and representative equality. While this was often seen by the local elite as little more then expanding the horizons of social debate without offering a platform to the Isolationists, many progressive liberals began to take advantage in Volemstad especially under the ceaseless and hard driven promotion of their representative Governor Zuzana Jillemničková. Many conservatives who had been on the fence with their beliefs began to be convinced by a large influx of progressive liberal commentators in the city to become sympathetic toward their side, often relying on aggressive fear mongering and witch hunting. A number of men and women of merit and skill were let go from their jobs in what many Isolationists refer to as the Purge of Volemstad, including a number of Reactionaries who were targeted by Zuzana for their personal views on her politics, and a popular Isolationist sympathetic radio host who was forced from his building by his employers.

Not everything was great for the progressive liberals though, for as soon as they had a huge foothold in Volemstrad, a fresh controversy had arisen once again against their hated rivals, the Abolitionists. Abolitionists had ranged from conservatives to reformist reactionary, but their goals often were towards the removal of slavery rather then towards true political ends. The parents of a progressive liberal blogger who was ratted out to a local overseer had caught up to three Abolitionist bloggers who were swiftly brought to court, and were tried for murder since the overseer was immune from the law. Public opinion shifted again due to the obvious meddling of progressive liberal celebrities and those sympathetic with them. Governor Zuzana declared that she would not accept anything less then a guilty verdict, and even stood by with the family of the blogger who was killed. When a guilty verdict was called, the Abolitionists were rather insultingly only given a light sentence of 2 year work suspension and a fine payment of 10,000 credits each. The verdict nor punishment had made anyone happy, which was furthered more when a number of Oturan who were watching for news had appeared on the steps, guided by their Overseer. The Progressive Liberals swarmed the Oturan, shouting xenophobic and obnoxious chants, but were disbursed when the overseer fired his gun into the air.

Things were even getting more worse in the Isolationist regroup in Ostrobkad. While much of the attention was one the court case, a number of Expanionists in the city began organizing a 'resistance' to to the recuperating Isolationists. Nearly over 1,000 Expansionists and Reactionaries had begun a counter protest near the meeting hall of the Isolationists. While the Isolationists had still been peaceful rather recently, the Expansionists were in full flown rioting. Thirty cars of Isolationists were flipped or burned, and a Isolationist leader who had been in the home of family was dragged out by an angry mob and beaten. This leader ended up with brain damage and was forced to retire early from his leading career due to the incident, but his broken face became the banner of violence against Isolationists. When this had happened, many Isolationists retaliated in kind and broke into a neighborhood which houses three Expansionist leaders and began breaking signs, throwing junk through windows, and shouting obnoxious chants throughout the night. Unlike the previous incidents, these events were filmed and reported on which only enraged the Isolationists even more when their own woes were ill reported or ignored, but their violence was dramatized. Eventually, the Isolationist leadership was joined by their leader Klement Kostra who rallied the group, and made plans to protest in the capital regardless of the law.

Klement had been leading the Isolationist factions as a popular leader, but not a official one. His wild ideas and pseudo-philosphies had been popularized by bloggers and celebrities who had tried to debate him on his beliefs, but found him stubborn and well versed in trapping people in their own words, humiliating them and making them look hypocritical, at least to his fans. Now, he and his group marched with banners from a commercial square outside Volemstad and began marching with banners down it's streets. Over 35,000 were marching and shouting, with Klement and his group meeting the first group of police who were sent to stop them. The Barricade had been quickly built and was far too small, and despite explicit orders to shoot the protesters if they came closer, the police noticed guns and makeshift grenades on their person. The Police backed off and regrouped with a larger group, with the law enforcement deciding to scare the group from going towards the inner city with larger barricades and military equipment. The protesters drew huge crowds, but it had been a surprisingly peaceful protest. Klement began talking to reporters who were covering the event, barely his words were legible from the chants of "No Ambassadors, No War!". The demonstration drove a number of scared city folks into their homes, especially when the Isolationists became pushy.

While the huge protest began to go down Victory Road, a long stretch of busy road, a huge blockade had formed on the other side. Cars had been now pulled from the road, but these armed people were not police, but a local militia. 500 social liberals and 10 progressive liberal allies had armed themselves and began taking positions on the other side of the road, protecting a tiny group of houses of Xuhajann. Three of their number, young and well armed, had begun building barricades in their shops and homes. The local police force took up a defensive perimeter to separate the two armed groups, but the officers were in a bad position, now in the firing line between the two protesters who began arguing and throwing heavy objects one another, normally hitting cars. Feeling rather lucky, or perhaps stupidly foolish, a unknown young man had pushed bast a weaker part of the police barricade and shot into the Isolationist crowd. The Isolationists didn't react at first, but the police and the counter-protesters did in fully force. The police, behind their metal barricades opened fired on the exposed group with rubber bullets and dispersion gas at first, but when the Isolationists fired back, it was with real bullets. The officers were hit with friendly fire by the small militia behind them, and soon turned their guns on them as well. Several Isolationists had been recording the event and soon the Police reacted by simply driving the huge group from the city all together, and barred further entrance. 32 Isolationists laid dead, and with over 800 injured. Ten police officers laid dead as well, but seven were killed by stray fire by the militia behind them. Only one Militia man was dead, but 72 were in critical condition. The battle was over in less then an hour, but the worse damage was yet to come.

What had been recorded, and spread around on social media, was a young very obvious counter-protester having fired into the crowd of Isolationists. This had been a huge setback for the social liberals, who now were seen as either violent, incompetent, or just generally evil by a number of growing conservatives who placed the sole blame on their leadership. The Reactionaries, and especially governors like Eduard, spoke in length of the violence and condemned it. The Isolationists in truth had won a huge victory it had seemed, as membership on nearly all planets began to explode. While media had originally sided with the government on trying to downplay the issue, a growing minority of reporters condemned the action, especially the Abolitionists who called the entire affair a 'Mess without reason'. With a huge growing rise of Isolationists and dwindling support of the social liberals, worry began to set in over the halls of government in Volkadia.

---

Decay
Volkadia
5800 CE

The stock market of Volkadia had still remained steady in the past few weeks, but new signs had begun to emerge of coming disaster, as subtle as it was. Many problems ranging from the poor practices of the current and previous administrations have come to light and have become heavily reported on in the weeks to follow. Violence in the capital had not eased tensions of investors, and many economists feared the worst. Many economists in and abroad predicted huge problems in the Volkadia economy, stemming not from it's usual places but rather in poor policies and general bad luck which had plagued the Volkadia markets. While the civilization was stable for now, cracks had begun to appear amongst the colonial, industrial, and commercial infrastructure which has drawn deep criticism from reformists. While most governors seemed more concerned about the growing instability of the political factions, as well as dealing with a variety of personal issues, the country continued to sink into new hellish holes.

The Volkadian Colonial Authority, or the VCA, had been having to deal with a growing lack of investment and general problems related to their finances. The VCA entrusted huge responsibilities to a mining company named Asteroid Logger Company, but the venture turned south quickly when the company cracked open a number of empty asteroids, wasted precious money on parties and buying the favors of VCA officials, and a number of smaller scandals in safety hazards which saw huge payouts to victims of space mining. When the company tanked, the news broke and scared away new investments. Colonial adventures were already risky enough, but companies like the ALC were just one of many examples of poor luck on the VCA's part to bring in new investment. As their accounts began to tumble, the VCA took out large loans to fill the gaps and expand desperately to several small planetoids, but again was plagued with a lack of resources on them and the colonists located to them found many of the buildings unfinished, including the crew quarters. Colonial expansion had seemingly grounded to a halt.

Another huge issue was that Volkadia had a huge industrial sector, so huge in fact that Ethera alone nearly made up 30% of the nation's factories. Yet despite a need for new factories, there simply was not enough space to fill the gaps of building new factories, along with several huge setbacks. Oakus, which had very few factories, was set to become the ground floor of several civilian ship manufactories, but the company which had been building the factory had turned to stealing Oturan to fill quotas and do hard labor. The local governor sent over three overseers to deal with the issue, who dragged three executives out of the building, and shot one for ordering the forced labor. This scattered and broke many future factory building on Oakus due to the brutal action, and the factory itself was simply abandoned. Another company tried to expand industrial zones on several colonies which had grown to success, but the chemicals they used in cleaning had turned out to be highly toxic in what was believe to be industrial espionage, poisoning many colonists. Lawsuits broke the company apart, and the VCA had remained reluctant to allow industrial growth due to the incident. These acts have led to a constant down hill spiral of factories not being built, and causing further speculation on the health of the economy.

To add to the growing issues of industry which could not expand, the commercial sector had exploded. There had been plenty of space to build new malls, stadiums, and restaurants along with various shops and marketplaces, but these shops had several issues of their own. Often, when a commercial center had been filled to the brim, the owners were hit with a huge tax increase to maximize profit to the government, which killed business really fast. When the businesses failed, they simply moved on to the next commercial center, leaving huge blocks of broken down, barely functioning, and over taxed businesses which could barely keep afloat. Often, larger chains swooped in and bought up most of the land for stores and markets. Now, most commercial zones would simply become outgrowing tumors which moved in all directions, and lax laws on their profitability has been a challenge for many administrators. The normal response was often not to jump to a high tax increase, but instead many greedy administrators would simply allow the problem to continue and pocket a portion of the money for themselves.

In order to keep up with the affairs of state and slacking economy, the Volkadia government held a vote to get a loan from the national bank of 72 billion credits. This money was divided up amongst the more troubled members of the old families to distribute amongst their administrators to encourage industrial growth. Vodca Maximilián Pokorny funneled over 5 billion of these credits to improving Ethera's local schooling system, and while it would hopefully be beneficial one day, it did not elevate much in the short term. When the government took this much money from the national bank, the bank had to bring a lot more credits into the system and as a result there was a huge spike in inflation of over 0.30%. There was huge unrest amongst the commercial centers who were already struggling, and a number of poorer and middle class families were especially hit hard. Their voices and anger made the loan intensely unpopular amongst the less educated circles, with a growing number of conservatives joining them in their displeasure with the growing inflation.

While many of these problems had only become truly problematic, the current concern was to keep the stock market in a buying mood and continued to invest in Volkadia's projects. The Vodca in the late afternoon of the senate to hold conferance, relating the economic woes to the old families. While many of the old families had been entirely on board with Max's concerns, they had different ideas on how to do it. The Reformists wanted drastic economic reforms, the reactionaries wanted to promote a Blackguard from a successful CEO, the liberals wanted to get another loan, and the conservatives wanted to do nothing and just hoped it would blow over. In the end, what had been decided upon was that the Governors would buy the already overly expensive stocks on larger companies and publicize it, making it look like the economy was still strong enough for investment with government approval. The hope was that the economy was swiftly improve by the time it entered a selling phase, but some were still deeply worried about the state of Volkadia's ailing industries which didn't see and true reform to improve them.

The Volkadian National Bank, who's owners were happy about the government's involvement, felt they still needed a a surefire way to keep the economy afloat and looked for desperate solutions without having to give huge bribes to administrators or the governors to see change. They found their answer when a VCA representative came looking for a loan from the bank to help start a colony. A new habitable planet called Nausobo was discovered by colonists who began building extensive homes on the surface. The Bank and the VCA soon found themselves working more closely, believing the planet near the EGD (estate galactic district) would be super rich in minerals and become the new anchor to the economy. The VCA and the Bank put forth huge funds towards several businesses such as the Oturan controlled Eastwind Mining Company and the Family Colony Group to help fund and prop up the planet as a new industrial zone. Yet, despite warnings from surveyors and ecologists who warned that Nausobo has a number of incredibly dangerous apex predators and poisonous fauna that would need highly proper and expensive removal, the largest concern came from a number of Eastwind Mining geologists who were finding only limited traces of usable materials on the planet's surface but had only explored 2% of the planet so far. Yet despite this, the bank encouraged the buying of VCA stocks, helping to relieve their investment woes, under the assumption that the Nausobo colony would do very well.

In spite of the efforts by the bank and government to alleviate concern, many CEOs had over the next few weeks began to pull out larger and larger shares from their local banks, private ventures, and credit unions. Volkadian CEOs found themselves warned of upcoming problems in the Volkadian economy, but it was a surprise to most that the popular game company Ethera Stradegum which specialized in tabletop figurine battles had rather suddenly began to close up shop and sell their brands to other companies. It's CEO had been warned by a economist that the Volkadian company wasn't going to take a tumble soon, but would instead collapse, and that in order truly save money, now was the best time to cut losses. Other similar things began to happen, much to the public's confusion, and to many economist newspaper's deep fears. Many CEOs from high brand companies had retired or sold off prestigious and expensive parts of their companies for huge payouts, and began saving money not in banks but in vaults within their own home. Many of the CEOs tried to convince members of the old families of the growing problems, but the governors simply believed that their system would not fall and often thought of the deep fears of these rich businessmen was just fear mongering.

---

The Populist and the Old Man
Volkadia
5800 CE

The populist Eduard Hornik had been growing in ever increasing popularity, especially amongst the Reactionary governors. The formal leader of the reactionaries, Governor Branko Slaný had been delaying the populist for months, but many reactionaries grew resentful of Branko and simply began to invite Eduard to the Black House, the original imperial government building which had been converted into a museum and hosted the dinner parties of the Reactionaries. At first glance, many Reactionaries despised Eduard due to his idiotic banter and poor speech, but now many believed the hype of his growing popularity which was made even greater by the fact he had forced a deal with the elder social liberal Vodca. The old families ended up not treating Eduard to a feast, but instead found themselves treated when Eduard's company which he was still CEO of ordered a huge roast beef dinner with some very fine wine, made by two of Volkadia's most experienced chefs. The dinner only proved Eduard's personal power, and Branko who was regular in attendance found himself speechless and simply handed the reigns to Eduard in the most normally informal way of Volkadian politics, simply toasting to him and proclaiming he should run the group.

Now with the reactionaries behind him, Eduard had a bill he had been preparing for weeks. As a CEO and a politician, a very rare character in Volkadian politics but not illegal, he had wished to treat both his friends who helped him to power such as weapons salesman Marek Biely while also helping small businesses owners and the richer classes. Eduard introduced before the senate the High End Act. The Act would universally set the tax rate anyone who makes over 2,000,000 yearly rather then it being decided by administrators, along with offering a payout to failed small business owners who had failed because of poor practices by failing administrators so long as they would restart their business within three years. The High End Act would also give pay the salaries of employees of these smaller businesses for a year which had gone out of business, but forbid payments of those who used slave labor. The last piece of the bill also would reward a 50% refund to failed investments from families who had 1,000,000 yearly income, but this money would be placed into government accounts and was to only be used in new investments.

This huge reform, once presented to the senate, was laughed at by a number of conservatives in the audience who saw obvious flaws and issues with the bill. Július Smutný argued the bill's most glaring flaw, which essentially gave a near infinite supply of money to investors of rich corporations to continually put up a huge loss of money on a failed venture, and the government would pay out to others, and that the bill had no means for which to pay for it. Eduard argued, rather poorly and with angry sass, that the only rich people in Volkadia were the governors themselves and if they could not have a safety net when putting in a investment, then no one would invest. Many conservatives, despite their reluctance to support Eduard, did like the small business reform which had been on everyone's mind. The conservatives in the senate argued with the reactionaries to make a lite version of the bill, but Eduard would have none of it. Only the former leader Branko Slaný seemed to bring reason to Eduard and was able to get him and Július into a private room and worked out a lighter version which the conservatives were more willing to support and made Eduard happy. The investment refund was improved upon, only allowing trusted person to be given the privileges and the refund had a limit of a 10% refund which could go above 250,000 credits.

While the conservatives had seemed more likely to support the bill, the Vodca was surprised that the conservatives seemed to not know how to fund it. Vodca Maximilián Pokorny argued that the bill was still far to expensive and supported large corporations above that of the Volkadian people. Max and Eduard debated the merits of the bill, with it becoming increasing obvious to the Vodca that the bill was more of a way to increase the popularity of Eduard without regard for consequences. Spiteful of his rhetoric, Max voted a hearty no along with his social liberal governors. Eduard however was able to rally surprising support amongst the conservatives still along with a social liberal governor who should have sided with Max, but instead liked the bill's support of small business owners. The issue in the senate seems to divide them, but the Vodca does eventually again find himself having to deal with Eduard privately under the insistence of his ally Július. While in private, Max is not convinced of Eduard's intentions, but the man again surprises him with a strongly worded agreement he would pay for the bill with the aid of corporate donors. This would mean giving larger presence of corporations in the government, which made Max far too concerned, and refused to deal with the populist.

Even though the social liberals and over half of the conservatives opposed him, Eduard still had a trick up his sleeve, the silent minority of Reformists. Eduard's secretary and political mastermind, Daniela Novomedsková, had been busy outside the senate building by finding out all she could about the Reformist governors and their concerns. She found two reformists expressing concern over the political system, and wished to change it by reintroducing laws that would bar political opinions from he front pages of popular newspapers. Daniela struck up an awkward conversation with them in a bar who blew her off as a nuisance. In order to get her way, she ended up following them to a brothel, taking pictures and confronting them later in the day, forcing them to listen to her and redirecting them to her boss Eduard. Under blackmail, the Reformists looked over the bill in a more serious light and made suggestions which Eduard really did not listen to. The Reformists were joined by the informal leader, a conservative named Mirek Surový. Mirek was a conservative in name, but he was governor of a huge space asteroid city in the eastern galactic district which was famed for it's growing industries and was very sympathetic to abolitionists, and also ended up as a staunch ally of the Vodca. Mirek rejected Eduard outright, and encouraged his fellow reformists to not buy into his populist tactics.

Eduard however was not done just yet and pursued Mirek outside the senate to a Oturan enclave in which the reformist leader was hosting a charity event amongst some Abolitionists and the local Oturan. The Overseer of the enclave, having earned so much controversy and being a friend of Mirek, was on extended vacation, and thus could not make it. Eduard talked and talked but could not budge the increasingly annoyed governor, up until Eduard simply said to him "I will give you, whatever you need or want, just so long as we pass this bill". Mirek raised an eyebrow and motioned Eduard into the overseer's office where the two forged out additions to the bill. The bill's additions would grant a safety fund for Overseers and their families, paying 20% of their legal fees and would now additionally reward small business owners who expanded their businesses to more then 25 locations with a moderately sized payout. Eduard sheepishly agreed and was able to confirm with his other supporters. Mirek appeared alongside Eduard when he made his speech to the changes to the High End Bill, with applause amongst the publicly conservative but secretly reformist governors. The Vodca remained silent throughout all this, and when it came for his time to speak, he still held deep concerns over the payment of the bill and it's reliance on the corporate industries, but remarked he would apologize personally to the Eduard if the bill did improve Volkadia.

The time of the vote came, and the room was quiet at first. The Vodca read aloud the bill to the standing governors and called for a vote by yelling "aye" loudly. There was a near thunderous roar of Eduard and his supporters, including half of the conservatives, but the Vodca was not impressed. Seeing as there were few of his own supporters doing other things that day, the Vodca called for a written vote instead. The Governors quickly read and only partially debated, with the Vodca looking over who was voting what. Half of the conservatives and many other distant parties voted yes, and tied up with his social liberals and himself. Much to his shock, a vast majority of the Abolitionists had signed on with Eduard due to the new additions to the bill, despite the abolitionists having been his own allies. When all the votes were counted up, the screen in front of the senate room lit up and by a close margin, the bill had passed. The Vodca sighed deeply, but Eduard and his reactionaries loudly celebrated and shouted "Glory glory glory!" over and over again, with governors getting close to Eduard and hugging him for his huge political victory. The Bill would go in effect within the month.

While Max was not happy the bill was passed, as Vodca he was obliged to follow through the senate's rules. Yet, the least happy of those in the room was Governor Zuzana who pouted loudly amongst the social liberals in the room. The day after the vote, Zuzana proposed a bill in the senate which would increase wages of government workers, which most including Eduard was for, but the bill was no read aloud due to it's length. The bill was passed without much debate, but then the proud women came to the front stand to read the bill aloud and gave a smirk in the direction of Eduard. As she read, the bill's ending notes also repealed the High Class Act fully within a vague margin, and many in the social liberal audience cheered much to the fury and anger of the reactionaries. Eduard angrily called out Zuzana and the Vodca for this political maneuvering, with Max stating that Eduard himself had voted for Zuzana's bill, and wondered why the fellow governors were so willing to repeal it. Zuzana concluded her speech before the senate, claiming that Eduard was a bigot and that those who supported the High End Act were secretly Isolationists, which shocked the senate room. Many who would normally have supported Eduard's bill remained silent, not wishing to be associated with the growing Isolationists or their radical policies, and knowing full well that Eduard was supported by Isolationists before now no longer wanted to associated with him.

Infuriated by what had happened, Eduard complained and screamed at the Vodca over the lies of Zuzana, in which Max simply decried that he and everyone else should read the bills next time. Not one to be easily defeated, Eduard decided to do something rather unusual and gathered his allies, including the enraged reformists who had been snubbed by the progressive liberal who they referred to as a witch. Eduard published the High End Bill to the public forum, and bribed a number of media personalities to discuss the bill, and leaked much of the bill's contents to social media controlled by the progressive liberals. When these progressive liberal personalities began to agree with many merits of the bill, Zuzana showed herself to them to warn that the bill was toxic and was made by a Isolationist populists in the senate, naming Eduard and Mirek. Yet, this had predictably backfired, especially when Zuzana went after Mirek. Mirek was a popular governor known for his kindness of the Oturan and was especially known for his charitable events much like the one in the local Volemstad enclave. The bill was looked more into by many other personalities, including Isolationists, who promoted the bill viciously on social media. The bill's popularity had soared in the public, but it wasn't enough to get it back on track.

In the midst of the senate, Eduard made a speech in the following week, proclaiming weakness of the Vodca to deal with the economic issues and calling out Zuzana on her lies. When Eduard was done with his ranting, his challenge was matched when Zuzana appeared on stand despite Max urging her not to even respond. Zuzana made her own speech, angrily decrying Eduard as a Isolationist puppet and a moron unworthy of being Governor, and that no one in Volemstad liked him or would ever like him. She declared her own innocence in the whole affair, declaring herself innocent by the virtue of being member of a prestigious family. When she was done, Zuzana looked to Eduard who instead of her prediction to be cowering angrily in his seat, was giving a wide smile. The next day, a video had come out on Eduard's online network, recorded on a cheap spyware cam was Zuzana's speech and Eduard's very bombastic commentary. While off putting to richer folk, many small businesses owners and minor administrators were utterly insulted by Zuzan'a rhetoric and were outraged by Eduard's insistence that Zuzana had defeated his popular bill by rather dubious means. This was added to a number of cheap shots, declaring that not even Isolationists would go so low when it came to the Vodca's vote on diplomacy with Astrana. There was a huge uproar across Volkadia, with many Reactionaries weaving large conspiracy theories that Zuzana was involved in many of Volkadia's most horrific troubles.

If the uproar outside the senate was horrible, the political instability became and eldrich abomination within the halls of the confederate senate. Many senators began yelling and screaming at Zuzana and the Vodca, specifically in order to look good for their own supporters back home since their elections would be coming up in 7 years. Many of Zuzana's more closer allies had been damaged as a result of her, with conservative supporters flocking to Reactionaries or worse Isolationists. Anger against Eduard was not unheard of, but many feared he would do to them as he did to Zuzana. Rather then step down, Zuzana brought charges against Eduard for causing mob violence, despite no violence having been committed. While it was technically legal to film in the informal senate, it was just simply unheard of, and many within the senate were panicking. Eduard demanded a new vote to repeal Zuzana's vote. Rather then face further instability in the government, Max quickly agreed. The vote was met with a resounding boom of a 'Aye' from almost every senator, and with that the bill was repealed. The High End Act was back in full swing.

By the end of the month, things were not as calm but at least the government had breathing room. When the bill went into effect, it began to work in ways that only Eduard could dream of, much to the amazement of Max and the conservatives. The Bill naturally of course made sure that larger corporations payed less taxes, but their donations to the bill's finances had relieved a lot of pressure on the revenue to the government. More importantly, the improved refund system set in place encouraged larger investments, especially by the VCA which could float the economy further from the edge. These huge reformers however were still very costly to maintain but did improve the popularity of it's creator and his allies. The social liberals and the Vodca saw this whole show of politics as disgusting and unnecessary, but this change in opinion also saw a even greater increase in fringe elements coming to light and the gains of the social liberal dissipating.

---

Hierarch's Estate
Ethera, Volkadia
5800 CE

". . .And just as importantly, I come from a member of a highly prestigious family which has dated back before your infernal and toxic 'family' even came into wretched existence! I will tell you this, Governor Hornik, I will not let you dump your waste on this republic with your slander, your lies, and your lower class foo-" The video stopped, paused with the glaring reflection of a disdainful look of Marcel Novák looking down upon it. The video was close up on the face of the speaking governor, but Marcel wasn't really interested anymore. It was just another governor, but this had been in the news for the past week, talked non stop by political commentators who had no idea what they were talking about. He clicked an exit button on his phone and put it in his coat pocket.

Marcel was at the Novák estate, and was Hierarch in name but in reality he was just another man with a useless title, a fact which annoyed him greatly. Yet today was a least a little different. It was in the later afternoon and there was a huge gathering of Nováks from across Volkadia who had gathered for a family reunion. He looked down from the high rise of his estate into the surrounding forests. The estate was utterly surrounded by forests, built on the remains of the Novák's cabin home and now served as their homeward hamlet for generations. As Hierarch, he lived in this mansion complex away from the civilized world throughout the rest of Ethera, and was constantly hounded day and night by cameramen. With drink in hand, he rejoined the party in grace.

The great estate could be seen in many directions with the house filled with more celebrities then actual family members. As he moved into the inner household and towards the mansion's bar, he was stopped on his way by his wife, as old as he was but he would jokingly think for more good looking then he was. Maria Novák was in a more causual uniform and smiled. "Enjoying the party dear?" she asked. Marcel didn't wish to actually answer truthfully, but could not hide his disdain. "I like the food. I wish we were ever more casual. I could have sworn i've seen cameramen in the bushes outside."

Maria giggled "I am certain they are, so long as you aren't shooting at them again." Marcel remembered rather fondly of that day he had been hunting on the estate's grounds with all four of his sons, celebring Samuel's promotion when a Camera man annoyingly trailed them. Marcel, angered by their intrusion and sabotaging his adoptive son's celebration, shot at the poor man, purposefully missing and a good laugh was had all around, except for the press that week who called him a psychopath. Good times, he thought. "I'll try not to, they are lucky I don't have my guns out."

"Also my sisters are here, by the way, make sure to say 'hi'. I think your sons and our adoptive boys are hiding from the guests. I cannot find them anywhere." Maria looked about, almost concerned, but Marcel reassured her and kissed her on the cheek "I know where they are, don't worry far too much." Maria went about her busiesses to attend to the guests, with Marcel going into the basement rather then the bar.

The basement was a gray and barely lit room, with a huge screen in the corner which was attached to a number of cables and devices. Marcel turned on the lights and he could hear the collective groan of his boys. Marcel nearly gave a hearty laugh with his younger son Miloslav Novák holding a controller and sitting on a fairly comfortable couch close to the screen, surrounded by his Oturan adoptive brothers, Samuel and Milan. While two were full fledged adults, Milan technically was still a home serf and still held a true child's heart, but Samuel had become a well spoken of Blackhand who wore his black and white vest with a black handprint on it's cover. The three looked at Marcel and waved in unison.

"Enjoying yourselves I see." Marcel smiled. Milan nodded, with Miloslav speaking up "Aunt Invola nearly spent the last hour talking about her cats again. Samuel saved us from a night of misery." Marcel came over and tapped his son "Finish up, cause your mum misses you three. Do you know where Rišo is?" The three looked at one another and back at their patriarch. Samuel spoke up first "He said he was meeting with Gabe. He should be here. . .somewhere." Marcel's smile turned into a frown. Out of all the people he suspected not to be here this evening, it certainly wasn't his estranged cousin. He nodded at them "Make sure to say hi to your aunts at least, then grab some food and silently come back down, I'll let your mother know." The three smiles, but as Milan and Miloslav went upstairs, Samuel joined with Marcel as the two maunevered their way around the party towards the west wing, where the meeting room was. It was the regular haunt of figures like Gabriel.

As the two went down the halls of the estate, Samuel struck up a conversation. Samuel and Milan are Oturan brothers who were orphaned from a terrible engineering accident in which both of their parents were killed when he was very young. The two were bought by the Nováks when they were young to be servants, but were instead pleasantly surprised to be raised by them instead. "I never asked, but what was this issue between you and Gabriel anyway?" Marcel gave a grunt as he walked "Gabe may be my cousin, but we disagreed about a lot of things. He became a admiral, and I didn't. I had a family. . .he didn't." Samuel didn't ask further as the two walked past the more empty halls of the western wing.

The two came upon one of the houses meeting room with the door open, and in the darkness of the room Marcel could make out the figure of his son leaving. Rišo Novák was just exiting the room, in his full military regila when he was surprised to find his father and adoptive brother standing there. "Oh. Father! Nice to see you, but what are you doing all the way out here?" Rišo asked. Marcel could see his son's disappointed face, and could only guess what had transpired in the room, a rejection to come under the wing of Volkadia's most experienced admirals. Marcel put his hand on Rišo's shoulders and smiled "Go, your mom needs you. You join him Samuel." The two went off without a word as Marcel entered the room.

The meeting room was dark, but it had a window which looked out over the night sky and barely illuminated front, with a man and a woman standing on the opposite side of it. The woman, a thin and gorgeous young creature was sitting, her face utterly covered in shadow as she watched a brightly lit media broadcast which was on mute. Gabriel Novak and his naval secretary Janka Razúsová. Gabriel, in his own fully military uniform was smoking from his pipe, looking out the window and looked rather peeved. As Marcel entered, he stood next to him in silence. The silence was broken by Gabriel, not willing to play this foolish silent game.

"Mark."

"Gabe."

Gabriel let out a large buff of smoke "Your boy is well versed, but not skilled. Don't take it personally." He remarked. However, Janka commented as well which added to the sour mood. "While not lacking in courage, I must say i've never been more disappointed." Marcel looked at Janka who sat emotionless. Marcel then spoke up "I am shocked you even came. Last time we talked, it was years ago. I never thought you enjoyed places like this."

"Enjoy your hellish prison, parish the thought." Gabe chuckled. "To be honest, when I was walking in, if I was allowed to have my gun on your property, three rather nasty celebrities would be dead, and then where would I be?"

Janka spoke up again "Hero of Volkadia at this point, sir."

Gabe agreed with a nod "I heard politics here has not gone well."

Marcel was silent, he had opinions certainly, but he wasn't sure what his cousin was getting at. Gabe motioned him to the screen, and with a change, it changed to various cameras. The camera focused in silence on Marcel's two adoptive sons, Samuel and Milan, despite adolescents, were playing with one another. Janka scoffed at this fun "Hard to believe you would have any feeling towards slaves, Hierarch."

"That is enough Mrs. Razúsová." Gabriel demanded. Marcel was silent, as he watched the two, having fun and doing anything of things he was never allowed to do when he was growing up. He never abused them, and showed them a love only a father could give, and now one was a skilled special operative, and another had long standing dreams of joining the Bureaucracy. His own sons had been just as successful, but these young creatures had also become his own. Yet, in spite of all that, in formality they were still his servants.

"They say our ancestor looked at a group of laborers and one day decided they would be teachers, governors, and artists." Gabriel retorted "Its almost as if its in the very blood of us Nováks to command and control, to build from nothing and to love the very people we rule over. Yet here you are." Marcel could hear a spite in Gabriel's words, and by many means, he was right to be spiteful. Marcel had done nothing in his career despite his many attempts to assert authority, and he spent far too much time on his family then ruling. He looked to Gabriel who had a glint of ambition in his eyes.

Gabriel turned off the screen. "Its not that hard to figure out your security system by the way, but I have actually come here for a reason. The capital is becoming less and less like it was, and have festered with all kinds of annoyances. I think you have a opinion on this just like everyone else I am sure."

Marcel grunted "Yea. I've seen the video of one Governor declaring the superiority simply because they are born into the right family, and another playing petty political tricks complaining about other petty political tricks. Strong men aren't born into positions of power, they are taken, trained, and made into what they are. Blood had nothing to do with Gabe, it is skill and experience. It is why our ancestor built this meritocracy, and now we allowed it to fall into the hands of morons and baffoons, while the vultures pick at it like they do. There wouldn't be a Isolationist faction under Blažej Novák."

Gabriel gave a short smile, perhaps the only smile he would ever wear. "That is exactly what I like to hear, my dear cousin. Tomorrow, I leaving for the fleet at Oakus. I want your son onboard my ship, but I need you do something for me."

"And that is?"

"Make sure the capital doesn't burn down in my absence."

---

Wildpark Outdoor Market
A22 Commercial Zone, Nauroma, Northern Galactic District
5800 CE

On the brightly colored and hot landscape of Nauroma, a young woman and her daughter were investigating a small stand. It was the Wildpark Outdoor Market, a prestigious giftshop next to Wildpark Safari, a popular Volkadian park. They had just stepped down when the young woman noticed a sickly man looking at a poster, carrying in his hand a copy of the Will of the Lord, and was mumbling to himself. Her daughter went over to the man, and she gave a quick but subtle chase. This man was most likely a drug addict who wasn't picked up by security yet, but she did find it odd that the man wore a large vest on Nauroma of all places. There were bumps in his chest, and as the man turned, he smiled at the girl and her mother.
"Are you okay Mister?" The young girl asked

"Its fine. Its all going to be okay." The man smiled. The woman stopped, and noticed the man open his book and pull out a small metal rod attached to wire. Her eyes widened, she screamed, and then there was fire.

From a small abandoned building sat Metod Bartoš, who was scrawling holy scripture into thr wood of the abandoned bar. The room was dark, but set up rather swiftly as a small base which laid across from the local police office, where his real target was. He had sent some faithful martyr as a distraction, a idea which bothered him more then what he was really doing. Metod watched the news intently, the suicide bombing was suppose to have happened 5 minutes ago, and in the room several mercenaries had been waiting. The news station showed an emergency broadcast as one of the mercenaries began loading his gun.

". . .explosions hit the Wildpark Giftshop today! The police are demanding people stay away from the blast sight, as rescue workers who tried to enter the containment area have found themselves poisoned and dissolved by some kind of acidic smoke! P--. . ." The news feed was cut off.

"Alright. Its time. Hit it quick, hit it hard." The commander of the group quipped and left out the abandoned building's side door. Metod followed, his own gun well loaded. The group piled into a armored civilian hover truck and waited for a good amount of the police to leave from the station in front of them. There was a loud cackle on the radio as it buzzed on, cheap military equipment truly the mark of a cheap company of mercenaries. "Ready? I got sights on the Colonel."

"We are ready. Let us drive up. Is he leaving?" The commander asked

"Not yet. Hes getting into the van."

"We hit that first, if he flees inside, cover the exits."

Metod stood emotionless, noticing a tattoo on the commanders arms, rather mockingly reading 'Sof can Suck It' scribbled around a beating heart. It sickened Metod he had to work with such people, but as the armored truck moved, its driver took up speed. Metod knew the man was going to crash into the police truck an initate the attack, but ducked down from the seat before hand. The man next to him thought this looked stupid at first, until the truck crashed into the police vehicle and the 5 mercenaries tried to pile out. Metod had faced off against police before, they were not easy targets, and the poorly trained mercenaries soon found themselves in the heat. Two Police were gunned down by machinegun fire, but the passanger next to Metod was slain by bullets which wizzed into the vehicle. He took his gun and opened fire from the armor vehicle, gunning down another two with excellent marksmanship.

The Colonel and his remaining men before they could leave were utterly surprised and rushed into the building, followed by the mercenaries who began shooting up the station. Metod reloaded outside while the mercenaries haphazardly assaulted from the inside. Poor cover killed another mercenary, but their superior bullets and exploives proved too much for injured and shocked officers. The Colonel rushed to his office, grabbing a shotgun with seeker bullets and fired, hitting their target behind the cover of a desk which wizzed into their vital areas by going around. Why the time he tried to fire off his second shot, Metod burst into the fray and shot him in the arms. The mercenary commander checked his dead and then looked to Metod.

"You got this?"

Metod didn't speak. He looked at the commander with his less pleased looked. "Get a cruiser, i'll take care of the colonel." The commander nodded. While the mercenaries collected themselves, Metod looked over the commander and began to push his thumbs into the injured officer's eyes. He recited the Will of the Lord as he did so, and the screams of the colonel echoed until they echoed no more. Once the man was dead, Metod heared the vroom of a engine leaving and thought ever more poorly of the mercenaries.

The remaining mercenaries had piled into the police car and left without the fanatic, with Metod watching them leave. Having been left alone, now a small army of police and military were tracked to his position and would soon overwhelm him, but it was occasions like these that Metod had his own plans. Metod shot swiftly went into a police shower room and found cloths which fit him and shot himself with a grazed bullet. It hurt a great deal, but these things meant little to him. He slumped down near the hallways as a horde of police entered the building. Mistaking Metod as a injured officer, they loaded him onto a medical bandwagon and sent him along, but as soon as the wagon started moving, he attacked those inside and threw them onto the streets and drove to the usual meeting place, a parked garage.

Once in the garage, Metod looked for a manhole to the commercial zone's sewer system. As he crawled inside, he got a call on his personal phone and began to transverse the gray water to freedom on the outside of the city. He looked at the contact number and sighed, picking it up. "What do you want."

"Hey, buddy. I heard you got killed."

It was Jonáš Koleno "Of course not Jonáš. Only Sof may kill me, I thought you knew this?"

"Regardless, Vladislav called. He says you are dead."

"He's got this mixed around. I am a bit busy. Was there anything else."

"Just making sure you are still breathing. I should have been there."

"That woman only wanted 'the best'. Hey. Are you near by?"

"I am."

"Well, grab a rifle and meet me at 66 442 221 003. Kill anyone but me."

"Got it boss."

Metod continued to transverse the sewers for hours and despite the mercenaries destroying his lights, Metod has a flashlight on hand and a gun in the other. He continued to navigate through the sewers by memory, mostly becuase he had practiced this assassination weeks in advance, in fact he could have probably done this alone. Metod eventually came upon the manhole to the city's limits and sighed with relief and began climbing the ladder towards the light. As he entered the city's limits, the mercenaries were utterly shocked to see him. Two helped them to his feet. "Metod. Your alive?" asked the commander.

"I am, thanks for leaving me by the way." Metod said without emotion, he looked as if this was a minor annoyance. The commander sighed. "The Hell dude, at least you could have died with some dignity. You know how much we have to share with a piece of crap like you?"

"50%"

"Exactly." The mercenary took out his pistol, and aimed it at his head "Look, dude, its nothing personal." As he was about to shoot, a shot wrang out and hit on the mercenaries in the head, and then another. Four were now left and Metod grabbed the man's gun as he was about to shoot and aimed it at another man's head. He body slammed the mercenary commander and cracked his arm, taking his gun and shooting the two distraught mercenaries trying to find cover. As the mercenary commander coughed and screamed, he tried to make it for another weapon near by, but was dragged away, crying as he was, away from the carnage. Metod waited as a hover car came barreling out from the brush, with Jonáš Koleno driving, his rifle still well spent. He got out of the car, with Metod still looking over the desperate screaming man.

"Close?"

"Nah. Just annoying. I cannot believed I sent Vlado to the heavens for this piece of crap." Metod looked down and took out his knife, carving the mercenary commander's tattoo from his flesh, screaming even further. He threw the skin to the side. He got another jingle from his phone. Metod checked it. It was just a simple text. 'Talk. Now. -SK'. Metod knew naturally who this was, but he still was rather annoyed.

"So why this colonel?" Jonáš asked. Metod smirked "Politics of course, but its still good money, and most likely like many Colonels he was a non-believer. Like this man." Metod motioned to the commander still trying to escape. Metod knew he couldn't keep him alive, but he really just did not like this man. He snapped his fingers and went beneath the police cruiser and tore out a thruster with the help of his knife. As the car sagged a little, Metod often knew thrusters had a lot of juice to power them without a power source for over 20 minutes, and he pressed it against the man's legs. The mercenary's legs caught on fire, and as Metod swished the thruster cap from side to side on the man, he made a blazing inferno. Metod nodded his head, satisfied the man now would not talk.

"Alright. Lets go."

Moon of Auraxis
Zion System
Year, 5777

For nearly fifteen years, I had been living in peace with my wife and child. My wife Tanaris and I had run away from what would have sure been hell. It was best for us… for Enric especially. They would have hunted us down if we didn’t leave Zion. Even now, writing this, I choke down my tears… I am tired of this sadness inside of me. I know it is not what Tanaris would have wanted. She always said she loved my smile. Always said Enric had it. Maybe… but he’ll always have her eyes. A deep gold that glows in the darkness. Some found it unsettling… I… I always found them enthralling. I couldn’t help but stare at times. Looking at Enric now, his eyes always remind me of his. Anyway… enough about the past…

I fear that Four has found us. Just yesterday I found a Paragon drone near the farm. I’ve had no sleep since then. Enric doesn’t have to know… Just in case I have prepared a pack with essentials and other things so that he can escape through the tunnels and get to the city. It isn’t the safest place, but Tanaris told him what he needed to do in the event anything happened to ether of us. If the big men dressed in black come to the house, run… Those were her orders. I know Enric knows it. I don’t know if Enric has ever realized in the danger we live daily. I hope he never realizes it. At least, not fully.

As for me. I am growing old. I’m tired of running away… I am ready for whatever comes next.

Enric… if you ever find this, I’m sorry I never told you the truth. Read my journals… you will know then. Even if we never showed it. Even when we seemed so far away.

We always loved you…

Doctor Telsh closed his journal. An old leather cover paper journal. A rarity these days, but the most reliable. It was one of a set of journals he had made. All of them stored in that bag he would give his son if he ever needed to run. He sighed as he placed the last one within the backpack and stored it under his desk. A beeping sound from one of the far off sensors located outside the farm alerted him to visitors. Grabbing his pistol he rushed to the entrance...

Meanwhile, Enric played outside. A kite, made with a plastic yellow sheet and a pair of wooden sticks flew with the wind. Smiling, he imagined it as if it were the ships that passed over their farm several times a day.
“One day… I’ll fly one of those ships. You’ll see.” The boy assured, making noises of a ship engine with his mouth. The sound of the door made him turn to see his father run out past him and looking over the many hills that dotted the green landscape of the moon. Telsh’s eyes widened as a black ship went over the hill and toward them.

“Enric! In the house, now!” He told his son, running back to the home. Enric dropped his kite and sprinted toward their home. Once inside, Telsh fetched the pack and gave it to the twelve-year old.
“Son… listen to me very carefully. Remember what your mother had said? About the tunnels.”
“Dad…”
“I need you to go. Run… far away from here, understand?”
“But why…?” The boy was on the verge of tears. First his mother had vanished and now… he had to leave his father behind. Tensh hugged him, holding back his own tears.
“Please. Trust me. I want you to be safe. Go…”
Nodding, the boy headed off to the hatch hidden beneath a rug in the living room.
“Enric…” Said Tensh, his voice breaking. Enric turned, as he opened the hatch.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, dad…”
“Go… get away from here!”

As the hatch closed and Enric vanished within the tunnels, Tensh took a deep breath and hid the pistol under his brown trench coat. Stepping outside, he began a slow walk toward the new arrivals. Their ship had long since landed, and the group of five men began to approach the farm. The doctor and the group met in the middle of the field in front of the home. Five men, four of them wore perfectly plain black suits and hats, along with sunglasses. While the man in the center, he stood out the most. A black trench coat covered most of his body, while a long trimmed hat sat on his head. What was visible of his skin, mostly his face was pitch black. And his eyes glowed an intense purple.

Tensh tensed up as he saw the man but stood his ground.
“Doctor Tensh…” Said the purple-eyed man at least, his voice was cold, and sounded almost like a whisper. Even though Four was hundreds of years old, he maintained the appearance of a young man in his twenties. Even when he looked almost malnutritioned…
“Four…” Muttered the doctor.
“You know what we have arrived for. Return the child.” Demanded Four.
“He was never yours. Nor will he ever be…”

Almost 30 feet away, a boy with yellow eyes watched. Enric couldn’t help himself… he felt he needed to know who his father had been so afraid all these years. However, upon seeing the men in suits he hid. A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear held him in place. He hid between a set of tall of grass and watched.

“I do not wish to harm you, Doctor Tensh. Your expertise are still valuable to this company.” Four took a step forward along with his guards. In response, the doctor shook his head in denial. “It is all we are to you. Assets… Never again!” As he said that, Tensh drew his pistol. A flurry of directed-energy flew across the air hitting the four guards in their torsos. They fell to the grass with loud thuds.
“That was a mistake…” Hissed Four as he grabbed Tensh by his neck, raising him in the air. Looking up, Tensh saw the grotesque face of the man threatening to snap his neck with a single hand. Part of Four’s jaw was part skeleton, a pitch black bone that showed under the remaining thin yet young looking skin. An injury by Tanaris no doubt…

“Tell me!” He yelled, squeezing the doctor’s neck. A weak “no” escaped Tensh’s lips. At that moment, Four tensed his grip enough to snap Tensh,s neck. Going limp, Four tossed the body on the ground. Running from his hiding place, Enric emerged but stopped as Four laid eyes on the boy.
“Dad…” He muttered, before the realization finally hit him full force. Enric’s eyes widened and tears fell down from his eyes.
“Father!” He screamed, as Four grinned. At that moment, the guards who had seemingly died sprung back to life. With a wave of his hand, the four men in black began to slowly walk toward the boy. Terrified and still processing what had happened he began to take steps backwards. Then, he turned and ran. Even when the plants cut at his arms he kept running and running. Reaching an exit of the tunnel he opened the hatch and hoped in, closing it above him. Sliding down the tunnel wall, Enric brought his knees to his chest and began to cry. His mother disappeared… and now, his father… what had happened. Enric felt confused and alone… Regardless… something in his mind snapped and that made him stand up. Something told him to keep going. He needed to go to the city. No matter what…

Aurolia
Orbital Dock 14

Several days had passed since Gaius' fateful encounter with Agent Severis, enough time to have his own affairs set in order. He of course couldn't divulge the true details of his mission to his family, all that could be said however, was that this would be his final tour of duty along with announcing his well-deserved retirement from naval service, much to the pleasure of his children and grandchildren.

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

Gaius sat alone in the troop bay of a razorwing combat dropship, the only company being the pilots, his luggage, and a service droid provided by the Agency. In his boredom, Gaius enjoyed some small talk with the pilots, exchanging some terrible jokes here and there, and the pilots pestering him once or twice about his time in the war, but eventually, they had finally arrived. "Captain, we're on approach to Orbital Dock 14." one of the pilots announced. Following this, Gaius stood up and walked over to the cockpit, flanking the pilots as they all took in the view as they drew closer to the installation, the docked Dawnhammer coming into view. One of the pilots let out a loud whistle. "Impressive ship."

"Well she oughtta." Gaius said. "Been at my side since the war."

The dropship continued its approach, moments passing as they finally entered the Dawnhamer's massive hanger bay, making it's slow descent to the floor, the interior of the ship making a "thump" sensation. "Well Gentlemen. Gaius spoke. "That's my que."

"Captain, it's been an honor." One of the pilots said.

"And...good luck." The other pilot said.

"..Thanks" Gaius said, walking away, signaling his service droid to pack up his things, with a simple nod, the droid complied and grab a hold of two heavy suitcases. The loading ramp lowered, revealing a his XO, young man in an officer's uniform, plus a two squads of marine standing at an orderly attention, greeting their captain. "Welcome back aboard, sir." The Officer saluted Gaius with a smirk. "I see shore leave was cut short?"

"Good to be back Janus." Gaius saluted back. "Ready for our last round?"

Janus' smirk swiftly became a slight frown, the realization sinking in. "Yeah..we're gonna miss you, sir.."

"Ooh don't give me that look." Gaius said, giving off a wide grin. "I ain't dying, not yet at least." He joked, although considering the mission, it's partial to truth. "These bones are startin' to get old, I feel I've done enough in my lifetime."

"Understood, sir." Janus said, who signaled the marines to disperse, as they retired for the day, one thought had almost been forgotten."Oh, sir, you have some "Guests", I'll meet you in the bridge when you're ready."

"Guests?" Gaius was puzzled, twisting around before one particular group stood out among the uniformed crew, his wife and wing filght mates standing near another dropship. Gaius walked over, still puzzled, why were they even here? But before any questions were asked, Gaius gave each of the old starhounds a tight hug, and an intimate kiss for Isana. "Little much to see me off huh?"

"Well, yes." Isana replied. "Did you think you'd be going in this alone?"

"If this is your last mission, we want in." Caris said followed by a fist pump.

"Just like old times, right?" Giddy said.

Gaius wanted to object, this mission was unlike anything back in he war, the consequences of any mishap would be disastrous for them and for the Republic...but, if all goes according to plan, this would be their final mission together, and honestly? He wouldn't have any other way. "..Yeah, just like old times."

"That's it? No bitching about protocol?" Isana jested.

"Who the hell do you thin I am?" Gaius jested back. "Besides, the mission itself is very unorthodox and I'll take any good help I can get."

"The last flight of the Starhounds!' Caris shouted joyously. "Let's make it count."