”What has happened to our future? What has become of tomorrow as it became today? Why is it that humanity has not just betrayed its own history, but its self as an entity. We exist today at a time where man can do what only our ancestors have dreamed of! We have not just taken to the air but we have bounded clear from the orbit of the star that was our home! We have voyaged across the great interstellar expanse and come to new stars. We have found new planets, settled them, researched them, mined them, and turned them all into earths beyond Earth. We met new life – communicated with new life – and expanded the length and breadth of humanity far beyond the natural boundaries that restrained it. Easily, we have overcome nature.

But yet, we have allowed ourselves to loose significantly something more fundamental. The lose does not ensure humanity's gain to be a sum of zero. Hardly that, it is not even a gain. We have lost. We have lost fundamentally everything that the human experience had been building for thousands of years and walked back on it! We are not an enlightened race of beings traveling the galaxy and someday the entire universe, probing the natural boundaries. But we have regressed into barbarians in star fighters and space ships. We are the Huns armed with nuclear rail guns, and high powered lasers. We are no more civilized than the Goths now, and we have walked back on the glorious promises of liberty, equality, and fraternity. We have consigned the once modern vision into the dustbin of history and withdrawn from it the imperial dictatorships of Alexanders, Ivans, Napoleons, Hitlers, and Mussolinis.

And even if not so, we have kept the capitalist baron on life support for far longer than his fat face had any reason to be on. We have sold our future to these men. And for what? For the death of Earth, our home? For the sewing of Discord across the galaxy?

The problems we fight today are of humanity's own creation! But not all of ours. It is the creation of Humanity's Power! Its leadership, command, bureaucracy, its superstructure. What did we have to fear from the computer and the robot? Nothing, we could design it so! What did we have to fear from the opening of new planets for our use? Nothing, all for all! But what class of man, what rung on that ladder had the most to fear, should the elevator to collective enlightened existence be finished ever?

Power.

So terrified power was in the discovery of new resources that threatened the solidity of its base, by the computer and machine to destabilize its primordial force on other men that they had to double down. And they sold our future, for validity in our history. No more was a congress, no more was democracy. Now it was the army. Then onto the Emperor. Both raised not as organized conceived of the present for the future, but the present for the past! Praetorians, Emperors in Togas. Latin spoken on Mars and across the stars. Imperial cults, and reactionary reaction against new reactionaries.

Kinetiscm is as much a mystification of the sciences as it is an anointment of a single figure as Emperor above all. In a time where man can be self governing and liberated from the slavish material conditions that so daunted our development, gave rise to wars and treason and failed revolutions it was all made Imperial property. All men no longer free! All men to the Emperor!

And so, what does this mean for our future? It means it has been sold out. It has been long sold out. Property of power and power has no interest in the future. Control of the future and its image is the new ideology that binds mankind. It holds behind this ideology the force of world destroying weapons, mind altering surgery and cybernetics. It tells us there is no future to have. We are there. Or if we are not there, to trust the future in power itself. And what does power say is the future? The past. Back to imperial dictatorship. Back to slavery. Back to private capital and back to class division. Back to castles to courtiers and plate armor. Back to living and dying by the sword and the death to imagination!

And people, my brothers. I offer in my own imagination the future itself. I offer no conceptualization of it, because that is yours to decide as it is my own. The dogma of power that drives man to fear themselves and the universe is a weak one. It is a glass cannon, swift to act and incinerate millions before the sword but a swift punch to it wavers with. It dreams itself to be immovable, perfect. It relies on the supports of centuries and millenia old ideas and ways, far removed from the times in which we live, corrupting the present as it steals the future away from our mind, our imagination.

The specter that haunts all mankind, dictating our actions from a millenia of graves will need to be excised. All churches be burned, all iconography be smashed, all state apparatus dismantled. From the detritus to be left behind and the smattering of its images into its individual parts we will leave it behind, or more accurately reconstruct it as a present idea of our time, from whence we will move ahead into a more unique future. The light that shall burn will illuminate the dark cavern ahead of us, and we can find our lost future.”

The man stopped speaking. He clicked a button on the screen and the computer stopped recording audio. He hit another button and it began compiling the information into a formalized file. Soon enough this audio file would be sent out into space towards their intent. They would not be physically going. Behind him on a blue tooth speaker a ghostly song, that spoke laconically of the very historic specters that haunted today. A stylistic figment, plucked from the past itself in one part irony, in one part statement. A sort of artistic touch, to make that statement. It should have been picked up.

Now done with it though he did not turn it up but raised from the comfort of his seat and moved about his cabin. It was small, bare bones. This ship had once been an industrial one and smaller than most in the Free Association. The walls were bare metal, showing pipes and wires that were straddled tightly to the walls. He could hear the low rumbling, barely imperceptible beneath the sound of the music he was playing.

Parked next to the chair was the bed, large and soft with a collection of red sheets and blankets thrown over it. In the niche it was set in were collections of books, scraps of paper, and a television screen. Elsewhere along the walls were old photos, collected posters. It all piled up as the years had gone by. The man couldn't remember how long it had been. Had to be going on to a few decades now. He tossed the tablet computer he had used on it, and let it do its work as he rose and went to the open bathroom in the corner, only a curtain separated the toilet and shower from the rest of the industrial world around it.

He went to the sink and washed his face. He could feel the sweat on his face. He was anxious, that much he could feel. He felt his heart beat in the veins of his neck, his head pulsed. He was clouded with doubts over whether he had said the right words this time. If he had left anything out. He half considered going back and making the speech all over again. It would have been the fifteenth time. That much he was sure. There were fourteen older files on the computer of his fourteen tried attempts. No, he would have to resign himself. This was it. Maybe later, if there was a later. This was his first time. Or rather his first time at this particular thing. He had been involved in and organized other things like this but usually after someone who posed a direct threat to the Association. No, this time he was acting on his own power. And the men called him captain for that.

He looked up into the mirror. He was a rough and unshaven man, somewhere in his middle years. His eyes were framed with lines, thin and wire like they formed a pair of reefs around his eyes, of which they were some dull steel-blue bauble. His brows were thinning, gray, barely there like his receding hairline. His nose had been broken, two or three times; it was bent all to hell now, it was a miracle he could breath.

The door to his cabin opened and he looked over. There standing in the door was a short narrow framed black woman. He face was dour and stoic, eyes cold and bracing. “Are we ready, Mr. Spectre?” she asked, almost buisiness like.

Aswan Spectre nodded, standing up straight and putting his shoulders back. “As ready as we're going to be. Is that ship linked up?” he asked, stepping away from the sink. He held himself composed like a commander. Though he did not look the role in his dirty jeans and torn shirt. He looked more like a post apocalyptic punk than anything. As he headed for the door he detoured to swipe up his tablet computer.

“We have control of the engine and navigation computers. We're almost ready stripping the star ship of any valuable assets. Its crew is in the hold. They're asking what we're going to do.”

“I suppose you have my permission to tell them.” Aswan told her. That they were going to be delivered to the closest Associate Stockpile, and from there it was up to them to figure out how to get back if they couldn't figure that out.

The other ship in question was a private merchant vessel they had commandeered in interstellar space. The EMP from a nuclear missile had shut off their unguarded systems long enough that they could physically access it and take it over. It was a clean strike, Aswan's cloaked ship - the Derrida – had managed to avoid tripping any of its sensors so they had no opportunity to throw up shields.

Now in the hall they could see the other ship being stripped out. This wasn't a piracy thing, Aswan told himself. This was just being pragmatic. While the emptied vehicle would be put to good use that may call for putting potentially valuable information technology and assets – soft and hard – at risk. They could always use those to collect information on future missions, and there might be more troves of potentially important details best not destroyed. To the Derrida and its crew, at least.

That other ship, marked only by a serial number was a large white beast. Arrow shaped and broad. It could be seen in the rotation of the Derrida through the floor windows on this deck. In the intermingling lights of either vessel the long cable connecting the two could be seen, though that five mile long span came the salvageable components and the people moving back and forth. Through it too on long fiber-optic cable would be the upload of the systems needed to remotely pilot the ship, and set its coordinates and parameters for warp and exiting it.

“Are you nervous?” asked the woman. She was earnest in her concern. Aswan could see she too was anxious. They all were. But so far they were all going about their roles.

“I'm fine.” he lied.

Moments later they stepped onto an elevator and headed into the central spine of the Derrida. Here the rumble of the ship's gravitational generation were loudest. They pulled themselves along through the gravitational void up into the brain center of the ship and out into the vast round cupola heading the starship, like the bulb at the end of the lamp, it was a space of bright lights and glowing monitors. Through the thick glass of the leading cabin they could see the entire vista of space, the billions of stars of the Milky Way, the shimmering of the navigation lights on the merchant ship and the Derrida, and the rotation of the Derrida's ten cabins. The cable between them like a long black umbilical chord adrift in the medium of dark space.

A crew waited adrift nearby at computer consoles. Human, alien. They turned to see who had entered as they heard the hatch open and close and hailed their anointed commander. He came up behind them, holding the computer. “Set the fifteenth recording up.” he told a hawkish creature, “That's the one to send. But send it only after we give the commands for the puppet to move.”

“Yes, sir.” the alien said, taking the computer and connecting it into his terminal.

As he worked Aswan turned his attention to other matters. “What's the status?” he asked in a low voice.

“We're clearing out now. All the important work was finished, and it's time to get the crew back in.”

“Great, wait for the all clear.”

“Roger.”

As time passed a message flashed on the crewman's terminal. Looking over the alien's shoulders Aswan read the message. The cable was detached and the ship was empty. “Begin activating it.” he gave the order.

“Destination?” the crewman asked.

“This.” Aswan said, taking out his tablet. Swiping and tapping through a few things he produced an orbital image and a planet. Around it was a station. “Can we hit that.” Aswan said, pointing to the orbital station. At the size it was at, it looked to be orbiting a distance from the planet below it, a way station between it and the moon, or itself acting as the sole satellite.

The crew member looked at it. “I can see what I can do.” he said. He took the tablet and began tapping away at his terminal. He began swiping through the tablet, looking for what data he could before finally becoming confident. The situation sized up, he entered the command and sent it.

Outside the command deck, the other space vessel began to move. Its thrusters boiling up to a start and it was on its way through cold space. As the thrusters burned, the ship slowly picked up speed.

“There's a recording on that.” Aswan said, leaning over the shoulder of the crewman, “I would like you to broad cast the latest audio file in the direction that ship is going. Loop it two or three times. By the time we leave it'll arrive, and that'll hit.”

“As you say.”

Wrath of God
North Galactic District, Volkadia
Late 5800 CE

In the rocky moments after the explosion rocked the market square in the Wildpark Outdoor Market, there was a great deal of panic followed by a quick response by local police forces which rushed to the scene. Yet, the explosion had released a highly toxic chemical into the air which formed into a cloud which dispersed slowly, making any who were still alive by injured in the explosion a fatality. To make matters worse, the police had arrived from all across the sector, but the chaos caused by a sudden assault on the police station, leaving the local Colonel dead and his office vacant, caused the chain of command in the area to utterly collapse. Not knowing who held sway, the police elected one of their most known and brightest to lead them, who formed a quarantine area around the poison smoke and led a team to secure the police barracks. This temporary leader contacted larger authorities and called in the military to secure his station and re-establish control.

The entire planet of Nauroma was soon hailed by a small fleet of over 12 ships, including the battleship The Revenge, which deployed a security force of 500,000 to the planet's surface from across the NGD. Military officers relieved their police counter parts and placed direct control over the administration, despite the protests of it's administrators and governors. Security forces began to retain order and began immediate investigations. They reviewed bodies, holotapes, and a vast array of messages in and from the planet and eventually found their culprit. The fanatic Sofiumist terrorist, Metod Bartoš was identified by investigators and was reported across Volkadian media. His companions, some believed killed by the fanatic, were also quickly found outside the city, with investigators still debating if the suicide bomber who initiated the bombing was Metod or not. The scene was still under severe suspicion, as it was undecided if the police station was the main source of the attack, or the merchant quarter, neither of which was apart of the terrorist's known MO.

Metod had been an outcast of the church since his first series of murders against social liberal deists and 'moderate theologians', or theologians who didn't argue for theocracy but rather interpreted their faith in civil morality. Metod's early career had earned him spite by the Sofiumist church for the past 20 years, but the man's efficiency had both impressed and terrified the church. Preachers watched in horror as the news was revealed that the highly publicized slaughter was caused by a fanatic of their own. Across Volkadia, the preachers warned against the tide of atheism amongst their congregations and faith healers hollered to the stars, asking for the voice of Spiritus to squash those who warped and corrupted his will. Yet despite the universal condemnation, some more radical preachers in far off colonies and poorer districts praised the terrorist attack, calling the government's current administration as unholy and unjust, and that Metod had performed a pious act by destroying the unfaithful and bringing clarity where their was not. One Theocrat running for governor once even remarked at a conference that Metod had not killed enough, dooming his campaign and causing embarrassment for the political faction.

In the great church in Mesto na Kopci, the great garden city of the Sofiumist faith, over 7,000 preachers joined in the Conference of Radicals, a call for action amongst the clergy to discuss the issue of rising extremists like Metod. In attendance, over 200 radicals had come to argue for Metod's cause. The preacher discussed, prayed, sang, and launched volleys of insults at one another. It was eventually decided that the church would not longer openly support radical and fringe elements in the faith to secure the face of the church, and banished the radical preachers from the conference. Formally, the church also gave it's formal (and powerless) blessing to the government to utterly destroy the terrorist cell, and promoted it as saving the church. Yet, despite this show of moderation, it had also caused great controversy in the church. Several populist preachers were banished due to their radical beliefs and authoritarian views on theology, and returned to their pulpits screaming about the corruption on the church. Political divides which had not normally effected the Sofiumist faith now began to creep in.

The terrorist acts were universally condemned across all political sectors, brining temporary relief to the growing political instability. Theocrats sided with the church above the radicals, and nearly every major politician condemned the attacks on social media accounts or through speeches. The Vodca made the terrorist act a prime target for his speech, condemning the men responsible for the attack and vowing action against further extremism, remarking the eerie similarities between the radicals and the Zuukist Faith. The poor taste of the terrorist attacks even united traditional enemies such as the Isolationists and the Social Liberals, with two rival organizations such as the Nauroma Liberal Legion and the National Peace Group of Nauroma having formed a unity protest against radicals on Nauroma. Both social liberals and isolationists talked to each other and agreed on certain issues, creating a small amount of unity where there was seemingly none.

While Metod's terror cell was relatively unknown, with no name or demands made on it's part, more formal radical organizations and Theocrat militias with obvious ties to the organization could have a face. Famed Theocrat leader and militia officer Gregor Suchý was arrested in connection to the terror group, causing many radical militias associated with theocracy idealism into hiding. These leaders and their families were placed on terror watch lists in Volkadia, with some fleeing the civilization to distant colonies or unknown star systems as powerless hermits. Some bounties ranged from 150,000,000 to 400,000,000 credits for the capture or death of 7 religious radicals. One was collected by a prospective Colonel who found one terror leader hiding in a woodland cabin on a temperate colony, with sixteen zealots trying to defend their leader from capture. The Hunt was on, but the biggest reward was saved for the famed terrorist Metod himself, with the government outright granting 2,000,000,000 Credits for his capture or proof of death.

The biggest winner in all this however were the atheistic elements of the progressive liberals. Several proniment and generally disliked Volkadian atheists accused the church of promoting and even ignoring the zealotry of Metod and the Sofiumist terror cells and radicalized militias. One Volkadian pop scientist named Aurel Tichý had a large scale debate with a church leader, humiliating him in front of a audience of young students. Unknown to most of the populace was that Aurel had purposefully chosen a weak and generally unfit theologian to debate, but had promoted him to be the 'top dog' of the church, and filled his cheering audience with many of his own students and liked minded biased intellectuals. The ruse had worked, with many who watched debate having begun to doubt their faith or reacted poorly to the church's accusations against Aurel and his followers. Many new faces had come into the camp of the progressive liberals, who have consumed a vast majority of Volkadia's atheist and deist members.

---

The Little Ones
Estate Galactic District, Volkadia
Late 5800 CE

The Estate District, the former empire of the Oturan civilization which was consumed by the Volkadian leadership, had generally been without trouble for generations. Oturan were fanatically dedicated to peace and learning, a society so engrained with loyalty to the benevolent noble caste and to co-existance that open warfare is incomprehensible to them. Yet, many Oturan feared war so much, that violence or unrest was not entirely unknown. Many Otrok governments had begun to see reports of protests and secret meetings between Oturan factory workers and farming hamlets, especially congregating on the Oturan homeworld of Oakus. Many Oturan were still rather upset they were considered slaves by the government, and programs which tore young adults from their families still rocked Oturan society. Unrest in the Volkadian homeworlds, along with a great deal of fear mongering by the Isolationists who saw a base to exploit amongst the pacifist Oturan, made the small and peaceful people become upset. Throughout a two month long period, several sit ins and flash protests were soon followed by the formation of several rogue militias and illegal gatherings in the grand halls.

In order to restore order, the local governors of the Estate district, mostly admiral governors who ruled their worlds with iron fists, began a massive crack down of their own planets. Traditionally, Oturan were allowed a great deal of autonomy with certain restrictions on religion and movement, but were still legally slaves of the government while in the Estate District. It came as a surprise when police rolled up in large vans, replacing Janissary defensive guard and kicking out many Oturan media hosts and replaced them with humans. A number of informal political groups and charity organizations connected to abolitionists, conservatives, and social liberals were raided by police in the night and were dismantled. This predictably caused a greater deal of unrest then before, but the Oturan often just grumbled in their traditional farmsteads rather then take direct action. These governors also began to restrict a number of rights illegally, skirting around the CCL and began to forcefully conscript Oturan into the armed forces as a separate slave army known as the Otrok Guard, which instead of it being a slave army under the Otrok feudalistic governments, it was a core of enslaved military conscripts and engineers to aid in policing and garrisons. The idea had been that the Oturan would think less of revolt if they had to face their own, and a newer generation of militarized Oturan would grow up to appreciate Volkadian military culture.

Rather predictiably, this had the near opposite impact that the governor admirals had wanted. Oturan armies came from very specific warrior castes which originated from a very rare militarized monarchy which peacefully incorporated into a larger one as a vassal, becoming the elite caste of police, city guards, and armed forces. By conscripting every day Oturan, the admirals had essentially broken a number of CCLs which forbade non-Waterspear clansmen from getting their hands on guns and military equipment. The Otrok governments soon brought huge lawsuits against three admiral governors which could swiftly bloom into a massive scandal. Several local overseers on Oakus complained to the government officials about the situation. It had gotten so bad, that one Overseer had burst into the office of one admiral and pointed a gun at his head, demanding he reversed things. It was by pure luck that both the overseer and admiral were able to handle their differences in a kindly matter, but tensions still ran high with these feuds between the admiral governors and Otrok governments.

In a rather brash move, one admiral appeared above the planet of Luva, a smaller Oturan core world. Luva is a rather decently sized and well seeded planet, cultivated by Oturan into a feudal farming world. The admiral, Vlado Mráz landed with 250,000 troops and marched it into Luva's capital, placing the Luva's nobles under his direct care and dissolving the Otrok government in formal display. The same had been done to several Oturan colonies, who's governments were suddenly forced to dissolve. While the process had been legal, to all involved it was obvious this was a political move. The Otrok governments which had been dissolve had been publicly building a case against Vlado and other governors for ignorning the CCL, and this action had caught the attention of the Media. While normal Volkadian media only reported it as progress for which the Estate District was 'normalized' into the republic, Oturan and Abolitionist media called it scandal, coup, and corruption. The noble familes which had once ruled these planets were banished to Oakus, with demands of new Admiral Governors to be placed on these planets, but not before hundreds of tapes filled with collected evidence of abuse had been destroyed.

The take over of these governments came with a new slew of problems and scandals which broke out within the month, shifting public attention and causing anger. None of which had been so infuriating with the blatant corruption of Governor Admiral Judita Tesárová, a conservative, had been implicated in a huge slavery scandal. Judita was accused by a number of Oturan who complained to a higher up Overseer that the new governor admiral had been selling their kinsmen to mining companies. While it would later be discovered that these kinsmen were just grown up children, and were used by the companies as space engineers and repairmen, Judita had used poor channels and back end dealings, and even was paid in a outright bribe by several companies for exclusive rights to steal away more competent slaves from the planet's enclaves. The scandal was exposed by Oturan journalists and it later exploded on social media in Volkadia, causing Judita to step down from her position as Admiral to avoid being brought fatal charges by a Overseer on the planet.

Things only got worse, as the new admiral governor's and their incompetence lead to new problems. One of these problems was the replacement of local overseers with far less qualified and more brutal ones. Many local Overseers tended to bond with the Oturan, and sided with them on a number of issues, and such as in the case of Admiral Judita, could lead to huge problems for the careers of the recently placed admirals. In order to fix this problem, the new admirals reassigned many of the local Overseers to other positions, and replaced them with their own military officers. These new overseers were abusive and never really read the CCLs, which wasn't helped that they had illegal licenses and had little training. These new officers ran their enclaves like military labor camps, and generally were more then willing to active the Oturan's electric collars. While they could theoretically held peace in the camps through fear, it was often unnecessary, and many of these officers ran their enclaves into the ground. Within a week, two enclaves were stripped of resources due to bribery, and another had somehow exploded due to poor management. These acts became increasingly known amongst the Volkadian elite who watched in utter amazement of the strange incompetence of these officers trying to run a single small enclave.

What had been a long time coming eventually came out in full force, as a huge abolitionist call to action was formed. Various Abolitionist leaders created the 'Freedom Flotilla', a large civilian convoy ship which had been specially designed for supply and comfort, was to be used to travel many famous activists and civil rights leaders to the Luva. Over 20,000 protesters arrived and broadcasted annoying messages to the ships and Oturan radio waves, planning not to leave until the Oturan were granted their rights back and the CCLs were restored. Activists met with more sympathetic governor admirals, and a number of slave guild representatives to discuss the issues, with many agreeing to the surprisingly reasonable demands. The Abolitionists had wanted restoration of the previous overseers, new Otrok governments to be restored to the worlds, and in return the entire charade would be dropped by the Abolitionists and would work more closely with the admiral governors by providing new ideas and ways to clear up Oturan culture without resorting to violence or abuse. Yet, as they were talking, a warning salvo was launched across the side of the flotilla, with warnings from Admiral Vlado demanding they leave. When the Flotilla refused, Vlado launched fighters which began to circle the ship. Despite heavy protests, especially from two other admirals on board, the Flotilla was forced to leave and made it's way to Oakus, where it docked. The Abolitionists returned home, having nothing else planned to stop the government take over of Oturan worlds.

Yet, luck was given to them in the form of the Volkadian Slave Guilds. Slave Guilds often handled a number of things, such as paying overseers, managing enclaves, and general transport of slaves across Volkadian space. They had been normally opposed to the abolitionists who wanted to steal away government property which they alone handled, but the negative press worried the guilds greatly. Militarists, like the reactionaries and conservatives, sided with the admirals, but a surprising number of social liberals and reformers simply had not cared in the slightest. The Estate Slave Guild, one of the larger slaver guilds in Volkadia, wrote a long and angry letter to the Vodca, demanding that he involve himself in the affair and put a end to the problems, promising that there would be problems in the future if the government did not step in. The slave guilds made it clear that they would protest the government and even support their enemies if they sat by and did nothing, with a number of Volkadian slave guild representatives preparing to leave for Aurolia to perhaps test the waters of their own political power and force the government to action.

When one of the Reactionaries read the letters aloud to the room of politicians, the governor admirals declared treason, but the letters had been worded in a way to not be implicating. The Vodca sighed in annoyance at the proceedings, and in a attempt to regain support amongst the abolitionists who had been sliding from his grasp, he began to declare his support for the guilds to send a new territory governor to smooth things over, appeasing also the admiral governors and slave guilds. Yet, the reactionaries began to open up, with one declaring that only a Blackguard would make things right. The governor admirals were reluctant to agree, but considering that every recent Blackguard had been one of their own, they began to voice their agreement with the reactionaries. Vodca Maximilián Pokorny disagreed strongly, being a social liberal he despised even the name 'Blackguard' and thought of them as a archaic and useless part of the government. after a long dispute with the reactionaries, Max declared "I will rather die on this pulpet before god then elect a Blackguard'.

What was decided upon was that two military administrators would be given permission to restructure the colonies and create new posts for Volkadian government or restore Otrok governments. One of these governors was a weak and sniveling progressive liberal who had been forced into the position by Governor Zuzana Jillemničková, but the other governor was a good friend and idealistic man named Timotej Bača. These two administrators focused mostly on replacing the swiftly placed military governors with a more formal government, made up of human colonists on the Oturan worlds. Yet, Timotej was not the same man Max had known years ago, having become a devious and corrupt man. Through subtle and awkward proposals, Timotej began to invite hundreds of industrialists and rich friends to fill the positions of Luva's colonies, forcing many Oturan to switch their jobs as engineers to service industries, organizing Luva as a business colony in which he gained a nice percentage of luxury profits. He bribed many governors and military officials to look the other way, as his new found government took great pleasure in forcing the Oturan into rather humiliating tasks and jobs to appease overly rich celebrities and business moguls, which again went against many CCLs.

---

Battle of Oveland Pass
Eastern Galactic District, Volkadia
Late 5800 CE

Two groups had become drastic and popular rivals in the EGD, the Union for Eastern Worker's Rights (UEWR) and the Black Nauserian Party (BNP). Culturally, the BNP are Nauserian which had been the traditional loyalist group made up of middle class and low class families who had supported the Leadership when they annexed their country. the BNP, as loyalists, were not overly popular and had begun to have a deep rivalry with the UEWR, which were Nauserian in name only and often were mostly immigrant workers from the Northern Galactic District looking for work, and were disgusted with the poor workman laws in the EGD. In order to keep the peace, BNP allowed UEWR supporters the 'gift to live' in their state, so long as they did not infringe on the rights of their corporations or disrupt the fragile stability, an agreement reluctantly made by UEWR leadership. This truce had remained very uneasy for several years, with small political skirmishes and current trends having exploded heavy handed debates. Social liberals such as the worker's union had essentially helped elect a number of social liberals to positions of power in the EGN, which had been mostly conservative, which angered many party hardliners.

On the biodome mining colony of Dusterar, the mining company giant known as Iffegerad Industries had been abusing workers with rather subtle tactics. The company often underpaid it's workers and often worked them in 14 hours shifts, and had extremely lax age restrictions on both employment and mining equipment. Problems such as vacuum collapses led to the deaths of 4 miners in a single day due to poor insolation. The populace and media were often kept in line on the colony by the company's fear mongering, often using specialized employees to spread rumors that if the workers complained, the Oturan would replace them in the mines. When one miner was severely injured by a poisoned air from malfunctioning life support equipment, he complained to the UEWR, who sent a representative to the mine to investigate. When the conditions of mine became well known, the union formed a two prong approach, public and private, setting up a private lawsuit for the worker and a public protest in the colony in order to hide a union building operation amongst the traditionally reactionary workers.

The protest however had been a utter disaster, for as soon as UEWR unionists arrived, they were booed at by the miners who didn't want them to stay in the colony. One less informed man even set off a shotgun which broke up the procession and the Unionists were escorted in armored cars to their 'hotel', a small run down inn with just bare minimum life support and no media outlets. The protest however did go as planned and despite jeers from the miners, the corporate boss of the local mine had read the situation poorly. The local boss hired six rogues from the colony to use metal tools to beat up the protesters, which worked wonders in forcing them back. Yet, in doing so, the thugs had also beat up counter protesters who were utterly shocked and confused their mining boss would turn to local thugs to beat them up. One elderly man confronted his boss when he found his son had come home with a split head, in which the boss fired the boy and the elderly miner, saying he would just hire a Oturan instead in a rather cruel mood. This incompetence lead to many very reactionary and often very violent miners and construction workers who worked in the colony to become disillusioned very fast, and soon found themselves joining the Unionists instead.

One of the disillusioned miners was a veteran of the Astrana-Aurolian war and a highly violent reactionary named Havel Holič who had a very dramatic conversion to social liberalist ideals within less then a week of the incident. Havel was a horrifically violent man, with a long standing history of starting fights, beating up fellow miners, and had been on several watch lists of social liberals as a possible terrorists. It was utter surprise that this reactionary instead found himself agreeing with the social liberal union and even offering his help, but in his own way. He and his 'boys' would lend the social liberals his aid as guards against thugs and possible retaliation from the BNP which he was still a formal member of, and had heard they would be coming to the colony to start a equally violent reaction protest to push them out of their 'turf'. While reluctant at first, the unionists agreed to Havel's aid. Havel spent the next sixteen days forging a small militant group, baring brown bandanas and dark green armbands to symbolize their new loyalties, arming themselves with small legal firearms, but not so legal Molotovs. This new militia was made up of radicalized and angry unionists who had been harmed by the corporate thugs, trained by the disgruntled soldier.

In the following day, several civilian ships arrived and loaded off several angry BNP protesters, but also a number of very well armed thugs, a professional 'union buster' group and radical reactionary militia known as The Tilboat Breakers, named after breaking the legs of a EGD union representative named Tilboat several years ago. These thugs had been hired by the local mine boss to counter the protest but again disbursing it, but had brought unwanted attention by media and the local police from the control planet, who's governor had become annoyed by the violence. The Unionists protested near the miner's entrance, with a large railway overpass above it for resource transport. The social liberal militia forged a small barricade for themselves, but the two groups began to get rowdy. As the protest continued, several miners surprisingly joined the unionists much to the jeers of the BNP supporters who called them traitors. As the protest continued, several Tilboat Breakers snuck around the barricade with the help of a mine overseer who wanted his workers back in the mines and wished the protest to end, and surprise jumped the protesters on the pass. A shot rang out when one Tilboat Breaker tried to throw a protester from the pass, but he grasped his chest and fell himself and hit the rock floor with a sickening crunch. Their was a very momentary and dark silence.

The battle between the reactionaries and Havel's militia lasted for hours, but it was clearly one sided. Havel, in his bloodlust, fired into the crowd of BNP and chased them through the mine and civilian housing. Several Tilboat Breakers tried to fight back, but were either shot or beaten to a pulp by the much better armed, and a lot more angry, miners. The miners tore into their enemies with new found vengeance and chased them into a office. Soon, the militia squared off against police who were just barely able to hold them in a fire fight which allowed the retreating BNP counter protesters to enter their station. The Police and Havel's militia didn't really intend to kill one another, but in the heat of the moment, the two were firing on one another. Havel did eventually realize what he was doing and order a general retreat back to the mine, but he and several others retreated to the ship bay, stealing a ship and leaving the colony in haste. His Militia did not sit ideally by forever, and soon were ransacking parts of the colony or just went home to rest. The UEWR, rather disturbed by the violence, quietly surrendered to police and explained the situation, who arrested them and formed a temporary command post in the middle of the city.

Within hours, 1,000 military conscripts were brought from the near by planet and were sent to restore order in the colony, which handed rather quickly. The Militia, being leaderless now, had either surrendered or dispersed. A police chief of the colony resigned rather then deal with the issue, granting his office to a military officer and the local colonel. The colonel, disappointed with the situation, ordered a investigation. Rather ironically, it had been the colonel who fixed the issues the UEWR had sought to fix. The colonel charged the local mine boss with starting mob violence, and placed him under arrest, and took over the mine until the company could deal with his administrator. Once order was restored, the Colonel chastised the unionists of dealing with veteran radicals like Havel, and ordered them off the colony. The unionists complied and in a defeated mood had not even made a formal statement on the violence. The colony was swiftly restored to full functions in less then day with direct control, a testament to the boundless efficiency of the Volkadians. Many of the Miners who had participated were given pardons, under agreements they would not complain to the media or political parties, and took all future concerns directly to the Colonel himself, re-establishing their reactionary roots.

The fragile truce between UEWR and BNP was broken, with their political charades now covering a great deal of Volkadian political scenes in the EGD. Yet, Havel had escaped to the EGD planet of Futela, and came in contact with a number of social liberals there. He again participated in local protests, and again formed a small militia. His idealism and radicalism was unwelcome, but yet popular amongst young and disappointed youths. A radical social liberal union had formed, calling itself Zväz Pracovných Vojakov, or the Union of Working Soldiers. The ZPV as it was known in Volkadian (or UWS to everyone else who didn't speak the local language) became a regular nuisance to the BNP. Mostly made up of violent young youths, led by personalities like Havel who had become their paragon for his former radical Reactionary beliefs, and now was a radical social liberal, he had promised to bring social order and reform to the EGD by force if need be. The ZPV often joined many UEWR protests as violent radicals, smashing store front windows, tipping over service robots, and just being a general nuisance under Havel's wing.

This militia however had begun to become a social pariah amongst social liberals, and a indomitable curse upon the UEWR. Corporations such as Iffegerad Industries pointed out the violence at the 'Battle of the Overpass' was caused by social liberals, and through money and support at reactionary leaders. Efforts of social liberals in the EGD had slowed to a halt, as political strife turned to cultural hate. Rumors spread that Havel was a Oakus agent sent to spread discord, while another popular theory was that the ZPV was a political tool of the NGD governors, and the UEWR were their handlers. These fears only exploded when a violent protests eventually did kill a man in the later year. A reactionary protester had been killed when a ZPV supporter rammed their hovercar into a crowd, killing one and injuring several others. While progressive liberal governor Zuzana Jillemničková had supported the group, the social liberal Vodca Maximilián Pokorny sighed in relief when he was able to remove this political cancer, swiftly calling for action and deeming the group terrorists. Their presence has caused a social stir in Volkadian politics, especially with the rise of religious radicalism.

Anaria, a small system located at the outskirts of the Aurolian Republic. A fringe world with not even a hundred years of history. Undeveloped and too far for the government to comfortably reach Anaria is considered a dangerous place most attractive to adventurous and poor people. Anaria had their fair share of pirate attacks and once even had a foreign fleet passing nearby. While insignificant compared to the riches of the core worlds the natives all loved this place and kept the peace in their own way. The place had its charm, unlike the usual hellholes you might find at the edges of the Republic. After a while this sorts of reputation turned into one of Anaria's main source of capital, foreign trade. Those who had traveled for the core worlds first had to pass through the wilds of the Fringes and among them Anaria was considered one of the safer places. Space ports, spaceship services, entertainment, you name it. Anaria had you covered. Consequently the travelers who passed through the system also enriched Anaria which the local government wisely spent on further ensuring the safety of their people. The cycle continued and many expected that one day Anaria would become a honorary member of the core worlds with all its benefits.

Those hopes and dreams are about to be crushed under the might of a new foe. Sensors picked up the sign of strange capital ships passing through the asteroid belt at warp speed. Like many star systems Anaria was surrounded by a cloud of asteroids, in this case about 200AU away. Well-prepared the Anarian Defense Fleet (ADF) long planted sensors in the asteroid field yet those should've detected the opponent from nearly a lightyear away, forget 200AU. What was going on? Admiral Deacon immediately ordered high alert, gathering all ships to intercept. Anaria's defenses were formidable, dozens of escorts, several cruisers, two heavy cruisers and even a Victory-class battleship titled ASS Endurance were all ready to protect their home. Meanwhile the enemy was beelining for Anaria Prima, the only habitable place in the system. A few AU away, near the moon of Anaria Secunda, the hostile fleet ceased warp travel in preparation of the upcoming combat. For some reason though all sensors and communications experienced a strange noise, as if all their equipment were calibrated wrongly. Yet what surprised them the most were the appearance of the ships.


They were big, about the size of light cruisers. All shaped like thin metal needles. Sensors were a mess so maybe it's just an error but the mass readings of each ship measured above a million tons! What was going on? Encapsulated by these appeared to be a large capital vessel in the excess of 500 meters, most likely their lead ship. Does that make the rest mere escorts? The thought terrified Deacon only to be shaken by an even weirder discovery. Like rose petals the sides of the large red ship opened, revealing a containment space filled with smaller warships. Starships carrying fighters and other smallcraft was a standard sight but a warship which carried other warships? Like bees these smaller vessels spread out, screening for the rest of the fleet. The two fleets were now roughly even in numbers.

" Launch all fighters! "
Admiral Deacon ordered the two light carriers to empty out their complement of 500 fighters, most of them are the old TSA-5 Talon Strike Fighters. Yet while outdated their munitions are still deadly and combined with just enough bombers they could be a threat to even battleships. Although it would take a while before they reach the battle line. Meanwhile the enemy was about to enter weapons range. Given they have yet to fire a single shot it is plausible the unknown fleet has shorter effective range than them. Capitalizing on this Deacon ordered to fire and suddenly hundreds of particle ripper bursts flew into the other direction... only to veer off their intended course.

Deflector shields? Something else? The fact sensory data got suddenly scrambled suggests near full spectrum coverage. Anyways, the enemy's defense field is troublesome. Most likely it could be only effected from shorter ranges. And given the nature of the engagement the opponent is most likely focusing most of their power on the frontal shields. Focus fire and/or re-routing power to the weapons could be viable counters. Unfortunately their sensors are unreliable right now and re-routing power would leave them too vulnerable. He had a third option, issuing that immediately. Rather than regrouping with the fleet the fighters spread out and prepared for flanking maneuvers. A few minutes later Deacon received reports concerning missile launches. At first Deacon thought it might be intended for the fleet but further reports confirm the missiles were sent against the fighters. Isn't that a bit too early? Even if outdated the Talon fighters are fast enough to evade long range missile fire. Even more mystifying was the fact when the sensor staff told him that all missiles suddenly self-destructed. Was that a diversion or...

" Recall all fighters! Cancel attack! "
But he was too late. Reports indicate nearly 80% loses. All fighters were hit by hyperdense debris fields. Or were they? Kinetic submunitions warheads on a degree of speed, finesse and density previously unheard of. What little scattered data they had implies kinetic impactors too small for the naked eye to see punching through the hulls at near-relativistic velocities. Meanwhile the enemy flagship's energy levels were spiking. Soon enough a vibrant red beam came forth, hitting one of the heavy cruisers dead-on. As if self-destructing the great ship exploded from the center, leaving nothing but scattered debris. Deacon used to serve in the Aurolian Navy and saw dreadnoughts in combat but never experienced firepower such as this. Correction, in terms of energy levels beam didn't even approach that of the main guns of dreadnoughts. Yet as if by sorcery the beam effortlessly passed through the cruiser's defenses and detonated right in its center. Following that the small ships on the enemy side opened fire, unleashing similar red beams. Unlike before the shield systems were sufficient to weather this sorts of firepower although at the cost of focusing them to one direction. In contrast the large vessels didn't bother to fire. As suspected they concentrate on shield energy in order to cover for the rest of their fleet. Somehow disconcertingly they didn't slow down, either. The enemy flagship fired for the second time, annihilating the other heavy cruiser. Panic spread through the ADF as many people contemplated on their chances of survival. At the same time Deacon began to wonder, the enemy appeared to have accurate sensor data to pinpoint their ship positions. The ADF also struggles with random errors considering their sensory signals. Is it plausible they've missed something? Does the enemy have an infiltrator group close by messing with their sensors while also marking targets? Given strangeness of the enemy's technology it is plausible. If that's so the battle was already lost before it could've started. Then there's only one question, why spare him? Why shoot the heavy cruisers and ignore the lead ship? Why don't just shoo-
A quintuplet of blinding white lights pierced the hull of the ASS Endurance, starting a fatal chain of explosions. It didn't come from the Asterian fleet but another direction much closer by. Under the cover of gravitational waves existed a strange mech, roughly 15m tall. It sported four cannons, two overhead and another two replacing its lower arms. The name was Kriemhild, once the priced heirloom of the Berthold family now in the possession of the Schwarzwulf knightly order in the service of Her Royal Majesty Wilhelmina Adelheim. In spite of being smaller than any warship the mech held incedible power and an appearance which almost made it unearthly. Of course, Kriemhild was something beyond even the science of the Drachenreich, a machine built around a piece of alien technology. The true function of this mighty device is unknown but it allows gravity control beyond the limits of even the Asterians. One of these effects include gravity waves that bend all rays, effectively jamming communications and sensors. The effect relies on distances, the effect grows weaker with proximity between the object and sensor while the jamming effect also being the strongest at the source, making the Kriemhild hard to detect. In addition the gravity control can be harnessed into weaponry, achieving material compression unheard of. The product are the four Neutronium Cannons or N-Cannons that shoot nanometers thick streams of matter compressed close to the density of neutron stars. This effectively make them a superior variant to macro particle cannons. Although at the cost of even shorter effective range.

" Got their flagship. Leaving the cleanup to you. Returning to the Schwarzseele. Good hunting! "
A subtle laser comm with the above message reached the Asterian fleet. The voice belonged to Siegward Guntram von Kriemhild, exalted ace pilot and the greatest knight in service of Her Majesty. With his wish to defeat the enemy leader by his own hands fulfilled the great knight has nothing else to excite his thirst for battle. Meanwhile the Asterian fleet is pushing closer, only a few minutes away from direct collision. In that moment they disperse a swarm of smallcrafts, Ritterpanzers. The agile mechs and their powerful M-Rifles do a short work of the fleeing ADF and proceed forward to destroy the remainder of the orbital assets. At the same time the ten Degen-class castles begin planetfall, targeting population centers and other places of military importance. Like giant meteorites hitting the surface the castles crash down with effects akin to nuclear devices.

Destruction reigned and without waiting for the craters to cool the Order of the Black Wolves began their invasion. Missiles and artillery fire rained down, followed by the massed launch of atmospheric fighters. Soon entire divisions emerged from the castles, ready to take this planet and its resources all for themselves. Meanwhile the castles stood firm, their appearance resembling ominous steel flowers.

The first indication of the approaching stockpile was the glistening light far in the distance. It began dim, little more than a dust mote illuminated by the light of the millions of stars around it and alien sun it orbited, a soft blue bulb dangling in the ethereal void. But as the Starship drew nearer, passing frigid gas giants and their frozen still moons the stockpile grew more prominent against the dark bands of light and shadow in the cloud that enveloped the blue star. Here and there asteroids shimmering with crystalline sheets of ice and raw minerals passed the windows of the Starship Liberty and pruning over their surface like polite bees swarms of small robotic drones carrying away in a thin thread the material they farmed away slowly.

Seated at a small cafe at the outermost edge of one of Liberty's mid-decks Marcus Xhu watched as a held a hot chocolate in his hands as the mote in the distance grew larger with each passing moment. He attempted to calculate the starship's speed, he knew Posada's size well by heart. He had been born there. At a diameter of just shy of 1,500 miles, roughly 2,400 kilometers it was an impressive planetoid of artificial design. Adhoc, built over time, layered over and over as a sphere and spiked with thousands of landing towers bristling its outer surface and hundreds of larger decks that orbited it, ready to take on passengers and material to and from the stockpile. It hardly needed the star it orbited, but it was unlikely it could do anything if much was on the outside.

As the faint mote moved across the window, its orientation in its frame changing with the orientation of Liberty to it, and where Marcus was within its circling it grew larger. The faint glow it emanated changing in character, regions of light and dark becoming more defined as it became like the old moon in old Earth's sky and the antenna that shot off of it like the spurs on a sea mine becoming more pronounced. The vast formless regions that glowed across it became more defined, turning into defined outlines, structures, individual specks of light across a darkened surface. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are.” Sal said. The two had been seated next to each other in silence, simply watching as Liberty drew near to Posada. Her thick curly hair tied into a bun behind her head, making her face look thinner without it all framing her head. She raised a coffee to her lips and drank as the flashing lights covering Posada flashed and glistened. Where the blue light of the alien star touched the surface the presence of large defensive guns glistened. As well as in silhouette the numerous large platforms adrift in the celestial medium waiting to connect with the voyaging space craft. Many others had found a partner, and the numerous forms and silhouettes of docked starships loomed between them and Posada.

“Approaching Posada Landing 10-105.” a voice said over the intercom, “Cutting axial rotation in fifteen minutes. Please pack loose items into an enclosed space and finish your meals or drinks.”

Marcus and Sal looked at each other, and quickly downed their drinks. “I don't know about you but I have everything packed away.” Sal commented, handing over her cup to a passing waiter.

“You always do.” said Marcus.

“You're not going to get hurt by anything in your quarters, are you?” Sal asked, concerned.

“I should be fine. It's not like a table becomes any more dangerous if it's not locked down. We'll be in zero gravity.”

They remained seated, watching as Liberty came into orbit around Posada. The minutes passed by. Muffled and distant, a soft clang rang through the hull of the Liberty and there was a tactile jolt under them. The motors that kept the starship turning had been cut off, and the decks continued to spin. But slowly. As time continued to pass there came a clear sensation of weightlessness throughout. At their seats Marcus and Sal felt as the pressure on the seat underneath lessened. As it did so, they felt the gradual momentum of the once moving room weigh gently on them and they began to lean to the side. As the room lost its gravity, this was translated into a floating sensation and then they were airborne. Sal giggled uncomfortably as she stuffed her shirt down her pants. The bun of her hair lifted and bobbed with each movement. And it was over, the decks finally stopped.

“Docking procedures initiating.” the intercom spoke again as the cessation of the starship's movement was confirmed.

“We should get ready.” Sal said, reaching about for something to grab onto and move herself along. Others were doing likewise as the people who manned the small cafe attempted to collect wayward garbage.

Passing through the ship, weightless with the others was a controlled chaos. The passengers, its crew all knew what was happening, and orderly they assembled themselves without orders to the sides and made their respective ways to where they needed to be. Like traffic along a terrestrial road, the halls became lanes of separate directions on each wall. In this situation, with so many, there need not be but little direct confrontation to move and control the crowds.

That which were not controlled were the small animals that lived aboard, the birds and the like which soon found themselves moving with weightless ease. A flap of the wing brought them to the discovery of the deregulated resistance brought by little gravity and they'd drift off with naught but air resistance to slow them. At a point, they would clutch for the plants and chirp anxiously as everything else moved around them.

Over the loud speakers a voice issued updates on the current procedure. Liberty was in line. Liberty was being served. The service ferry was locked and awaiting passengers. At this update Marcus and Sal were on their way to engineering with a stream of others down the mighty and wide center axis. The long chamber echoed with the many thousands of voices. In the winding engineering halls, much more so. But aboard the ferry, seats were found and the vehicle began to fill. As it reached capacity, and the request was granted, it detached from Liberty's side and headed down to the spires of Posada below.

Landing with a thud, the ferry came to settle at one of the spires. Frilled with numerous platforms, the spire was home to many ferries like it. And many options. Procedures went under way. The ferry was locked down, a bridge extended, and everything re-pressurized to normal. At the the chime of an alarm, and the flash of a blue light everything was go, and unstrapping themselves from the sea of their space bus everyone was released from their seats and went to the doors.

Unlike the Starship Liberty, gravity in Posada was produced centrally. A sensation Marcus was quick to feel as they descended the landing spire in an elevator. Long windows passed regularly by, he watched as they went down through the miles. The outside universe speedily passing, unnervingly slow. But as the whole carriage came lower and lower the outer structures of Posada began to flower and bloom upwards, the thickly cabled antennas. The outward facing forests of solar cells. The automated hives of the billions of drones delivering in raw material to be refined into usable industrial honey: steel, titanium, gold, and much more.

The windows went dark as the elevator passed through the metal crust of Posada, and for a while there was nothing but the eerily constant glow of the lighting. And then with a flash it broke through, and with a blinding brilliance the world lit up and they were drifting down into an ethereal, enclosed world enveloped by a silver white sky. They could feel the heat of the sky lamps, the soft UV warmth, the infrared, that made for a calibrated environment. Nothing was too hot, and nothing was too cold. The eyes, needing to adjust were blind for a moment as everything came into focus. Far below a landscape appeared, miniature as if a landscape of toys. But all the same alive. Towering ware house structures, massive factories. But large open parks, clusters of homes and communities like villages dotted the landscape like a picturesque story retelling of an Earth that was not.

A sonorous and relieved sigh came over the cabin as the tension that had existed coming down out of space relieved itself and they all began to chatter happily. Many pushed themselves to the side where they could watch their progress to the surface. Distantly, herds of horses and animals move about grazing. On roads cars and trolleys rolled by as heavier trains worked along gentle slopping hillsides between warehouse and manufacturing depots.

“How does this place work?” someone asked, their voice high in excitement. They had clearly never been to Posada.

“On nuclear energy!” someone exclaimed, laughing, “They have a whole core at the heart, a massive one. So much so it produces enough gravity to be like a planet in its own right. Almost a star in its output. A Super Heavy Reactor.”

One of three, Marcus knew. He leaned relaxed against the glass and watched the familiar landscape of Posada draw closer. It was a fairly consistent world. Pressed flat enough to be pleasant, but rolling enough to still be interesting. The only thing that marred it were the cables.

Here and there hanging down like thick vines ran immense lengths of cables as wide as a house. Their charcoal black surface matte against the lights that shone against them. They ran into the ground, where they connected to broad silver couplings and disappeared into the depths below. They were blackened beanstalks, coursing with energy fed to the outer shell. They were so large it was hard to tell as well: were they supports to keep the outside from falling in, or to keep the two independent platforms from drifting apart?

The elevator stopped. A gentle shake rocked through the cabin and the unready swayed unsteadily as they looked up and about from whatever they were doing. The cabin, a great round chamber sat silent for a moment before its doors slid open and everyone could leave. The fresh air was immediate, as were the sounds. The song of birds and the gentle rush of the wind. The passing hum of automobiles and the distant cry of a train. Hauntingly, it recalled memories of a world gone. Even to Marcus, who had grown up here, seen other worlds and other cities, and known nothing of Earth but was written and artificially constructed in the apparitions of simulation felt the unsettled sensation in his gut, in his heart, of a memory not remembered.

“So, should we find them?” Sal asked as they stepped out, away from the elevators. They stood in the middle of a square. Already the newcomers were mixing in with the locals and the crowd was dispersing and mingling. Soon it would be unrecognizable as the atomic parts mixed with the atmospheric noise of the Posada community, “Or should we get a drink?”

Marcus had on him a small thumb drive with the compiled data and a mirror of the hard-drive of the beacon they had found. On Posada there were many who could decrypt it all and translate it into something usable. In the intervening days the navigator's inner files had been decrypted, but the data wasn't in an unrecognizable format. The who, what, or where it had come from was hidden away in an added layer of abstract data. As was the story of the beacon itself, all of which was beyond the independent or loosely collective abilities of Liberty's analysts. Beyond finding or organizing an adventure to seek out the origin, there were those who would finalize the evidence. And who might identify the first steps.

“Or perhaps you could go see your parents.” Sal said with a smile.

Marcus laughed weakly and kicked the ground with his shoe, “They can wait.” he laughed, “Besides, I don't know how much a difference in time we're on now. I don't want to spoil anything.”

Sal nodded, smiling concerning. It wasn't an unusual concern. “Alright, you take the lead then.”