During the 6 months that passed the Mahre have taken leaps and bounds from where they started. Already they had worked and completed one of their goals in joining the greater galaxy. They had discovered that their was another planet with a mother much like their own. This knowledge sparked imagination and hope to their people. They weren't alone and more importantly their mother wasn't alone either. Their scientists had a revolution over night and started to take interest in space faring and exploration almost as much as their common workers. The commoners had to get to work and start creating more space faring vessels though they wouldn't be used for warfare but exploration. If their own planet wasn't alone in having its mother then what about others, did they have people much like The Mahre or was it only them that had the rare opportunity to become one with their mother and if so why.

They had one of the speakers go and relay the information to their mother. She was deep in the forests at the center of this world and only one was sent to speak to her for it was all that would be needed. She spoke to the mother and informed her of what they had done so far and to say their mother was proud would be and understatement. The world itself almost shook with laughter as much as the goddess was laughing herself as she seemed so happy to see her children exploring and finding others for her sake. She thanked the messenger and kissed her cheek before she stroked her hair gently with her vine like hands that felt smooth to the touch. She urged her children to explore and learn but to not forget their roots. They were her children and she wanted them to not forget of how they became her children all those years ago and to not make the same mistakes. The speaker understood and left her after they talked more and she informed the collective to keep exploring but to remember that technology was nearly brought them ruin when they first came here and to remember that their power came from their mother and their home. With that they continued to work and help out the different nations that they had already contacted and joining alliances with the other nations so they may continue exploring.

The Mahre took no part in the fight that had occurred during the 6 month period for they had no dog in the fight. To ask them to fight as they are just crawling onto the world stage would be ridiculous however they made note to not make the same mistakes.

A collab between @Timemaster and @SgtEasy
The Meeting Place
The Clergy's Guide to the Galaxy

---

She was not so surprised as she would have been six months ago. A message from a race of human clones which fight with primitive bone weapons? Joan gazed at the Ishtari module she could see in the vacuum of space, a gargantuan structure which rivalled much of the rest of the Meeting Place. No. She could not come close to being any bit surprised anymore.

Well, that was until she read the prisoner list forwarded to her by the One. If she had visible eyebrows, they would be reaching to the back of her skull.

“Sergeant Kingston Marley, you’ve listed here. This one believes that this orangutan had been MIA on New Hollywood, presumed killed in action.” Joan flicked her pages up and down the sheet, scanning for any other names of note she may have missed. The words were starting to float in front of her eyes and she forced herself to stifle a yawn.

Since the… unfortunate loss of her fellow ambassador, the priestess had been loaded with twice as much work as the city-states were still unable to give the Khan a proper replacement. They would squabble and debate, with the Freemen outright snubbing the Khan by announcing they had no candidates to replace Descartes. In the end, she isolated herself from the debates, focusing on the endless work of liaising between countless nations and her own. Truthfully, most of the exhaustion was from her missing her friend.

Joan hummed, glancing at the James? Grant? She could never tell the difference. “Sergeant Marley is an important asset to the Khanate and this one must admit, a highly valuable one.” As well as someone who inadvertently caused the disappearance of her friend. “What sort of demands do you want for this prisoner exchange? The Khan is always open to listen.”

The Grant stood tall, dressed in full battle armor but without a helmet, leaving their scars visible, which they wanted to convey that they understand the strength and the threat that the Khan have and are. They were flanked by two others, Jamess, these as well dressed the same but with their faces covered.

The One long understood that in order to deal with the other nations, it would be easier for one of them to have their faces uncovered while the others wouldn’t have it. Not that they cared about how the others saw them but to calm their minds.

“ Kingston Marley, is still alive in the possession of the One. We have kept him safe, healed the wounds that he suffered in the battle with us. The sergeant was an exemplary foe and we wanted to learn... ” said the Grant then stopped, letting each word soak in then continued “...and learn; we did. The genetic enhancements done to him are something that the One was not able to reproduce in ourselves and your rage was...unpleasant for our mind as it is.

We found a way to adapt to it, as it is our way. Survival at any cost. Sergeant Kingston’s template was combined with that of the One. ” without stopping, the Grant blinked twice and a Hybrid was brought into the room with a group of Williams. Their hands tied to each other, while the Williams had their spears pointed towards their neck.

They were tall, standing at least two heads taller than the Williams with fur covering their head going down towards their backs. Muscles bulging and eyes white like snow. The face was akin to the One’s but with the usual features of a gorilla.

“ This is the result. Stronger, faster and with enhanced regeneration skills. Exactly what the sergeant had but with the added One mind. Even now we feel their strength, the bloodrage in them. They want battle, they want to murder. Only thing that is keeping them from doing so, is our willpower. We need a way to understand the bloodrage and to control it fully, not only at times. ” said the Grant.

The ambassador hummed in thought, eyeing the One representative.It would be a few minutes of silent thinking before she made a decision, pressing a button on the bottom of her desk while warning the One. The room darkened, flashed brightly for a few seconds before coming back to normal.

“Sensors to destroy any listening devices, this one hopes you understand.”

The One looked around and smiled.

“The listening devices might be from the other survivors of Earth, not from the One. We hope that you understand that we have no use for them. We can communicate just fine between ourselves without it. For example, there’s someone coming down the hall, heading towards this very office. He’s going to be here in a few minutes. ” said the Grant, a triumphant smile on their face.

She merely raised an eyebrow at this, before moving on. “As leading ambassador of the Khanate, this one has access to a few secret files within the Khan’s vast intelligence database. Unfortunately, Operative Bloodburn or as you know him, Sergeant Kingston Marley, is largely inaccessible even with my personal clearance codes.” Joan coughed lightly, slightly embarrassed with the little information she had. “However, this one is aware that Bloodburn is part of a program within the Legion to augment Legionnaires to an unknown extent. Again, this one does not have much more information available-”

The door opened abruptly, alerting everyone in the private ambassador’s office. In the doorway was a scarred, elderly gorilla in a gentlemanly suit. Joan stood in a tired protest, gesturing to the One presence. “Colonel! This is not the time to dally into this office-”

“Don’t get yer branches in a twist ma’am, this is Herald business and officially above your pay grade.” The ‘Colonel’ gazed over the room, menacingly staring down at the humans within. As per usual, the One stood their ground with no fear of death.

Sizing up the Colonel, the Grant nodded and then looked at him directly in his eyes. No fear or emotion on their face. They listened quietly to the Colonel talking and they chuckled internally. He reminded them of a Scot’ they knew centuries ago. Crazy Pete. Only person to ever go into battle with a red shirt and brown pants in case they were overwhelmed by the enemy.

Colonel Travis snorted, pointing towards the Terra Supremus floating into the view of the window, escorted by two Mobile Carriers. “Yer gettin’ into that, ya hear? This is KAISer business, Bloodburn belongs to them. If you wanna know how to control yer mutant freaks, you want to talk to them on that ship. The Herald is interested in a deal.”

As the Colonel said “freaks”, a scowl appeared on the Grant’s face.

“ We understand you’re important in your society but if you refer to ourselves as “freaks” in our presence, once more, you are not going to be important for long. ”. The threat was clear in their voice. None may refer to Hybrids or in extension to the One as a freaks of nature.

Out of all humanity, they were the most human. Sure, there were a few others that didn’t upgrade their bodies to a non-human level and ‘thus the reason for the Hybrids but overall, they were human.

“ The Herald wants to talk with us? Agreed but no tricks. We don’t want to fight again but if we have to, we will. We’re pretty sure that we have proven ourselves to be...hard to erase. ” said the Grant, their voice back to their usual calm and composed version.

The One followed the Colonel to the Terra Supremus spaceship. Following him closely with the Hybrid being gently prodded from time to time with the butts of the Wiliams’ spears.


They would be led on to the Terra Supremus through a large shuttle, escorted by the Colonel and an armed guard. There would be little talk between the two groups, walking through a surprisingly silent colony ship. When sound came, it would be from the myriad number of animals littering the jungle biospheres around the ship. Alas, thus far there was not a soul seen yet.

The One’s group followed closely, scanning every part of the ship they laid their eyes on for escape routes, ambushes or any tech that could be potentially stolen if a fight would break out.

They would come to a large room with a steel table and a few chairs, at its head an empty throne adorned with the eagles of the Khan at each post. The only grand gesture in what appeared to be a courtly room, seats lining the walls in a parliamentary fashion, humble in design and utterly empty.

Soldiers at heart, the One minds wondered at every possible way of them being attacked by a fairly-unknown potential enemy. Their fears turned to be for naught alas. If the Khan wished to attack they would’ve at any point during the journey in the almost-empty ship.

It was dark, almost unnerving, until the Herald stepped into the limelight.

Temujin II was as quiet as the room and the occupants within. Nary a sound was made as he sat down aside from the creaking of the chair under the orangutan’s weight. There would be more silence as the guards left, leaving the Colonel, the Herald and the One in the room.

”An interesting creature. Half-ape, half-man. Mutant. Some purists in the Khanate would go crazy while some genetic alterists would go crazy for different reasons.” He finally spoke, with a brevity which surpassed one his age should not possess.

Thus were the necessities in the life of a representative of the Khan. Even as his son, which would be common knowledge to anyone. It was mere willpower that he still kept the youth, mirth and enthusiasm in his voice. The Herald sat back in his chair, eyes still studying the creature. ”I have been told you wish to tame this creature's bloodrage, the ape within him.” It twitched within its bounds at its mentioning, bloodshot eyes darting to and forth around the room. It would take not-so-gentle nudges to put the creature back in line but even now, it still simmered in a dense, unspeakable madness.

[color=cd5c5c]”To control the bloodrage, one must decrease the Supremus within it. Even now, at 50% of each lifeform, it is too much ape running through its veins. To tame it, become more One rather than more Supremus. It will surely decrease the capabilities of your new soldiers but will make it easier for you to control them.”

“As for BLOODBURN and as to why he is an exception, call it one-in-a-billion genetics. Trust me. KAISer tried to recreate it. Kingston Marley just had the right genes, right heritage and right history to tame the ‘beast’ within. Even then, most of the scientists chalked it up to luck that he did not devolve into a shit-slinging baboon with the rage of a million suns. Which is half of what you have now.”

”This information, I give for free.” The Khan paused, eyes darkening and tone lowering. Large figures seemed to loom in the upper shadows of this council-area, larger than even the colonel or the Herald in his high throne. It would be hard to see even as close as they were, as the figures seemed to blend and shift with the light. ”But secrets are kept tightly in the Khanate. We would appreciate your cooperation in keeping this program quiet.”

The mood brightened and the figures vanished, the Herald smiling. ”But with this show of trust, we officially recognise the One as warriors worthy of respect, given how tough a time you gave the E.S.M.G. in its founding days this has been long overdue. So I and KAISer would like to put forward a proposal for greater diplomatic and defensive cooperation, given what the Khan plans to do in the future.”

“A combined super-soldier program with KAISer assets and access to the top geneticists in the Khanate. In exchange, BLOODBURN must be returned. We will even throw in cattle to sweeten the deal, to expand your culinary culture.” The smile turned sinister near the end but returned to normal.

”What say you, One?”

As the Herald finished his speech, the lead Grant nodded respectfully at him. Finally, someone important enough to give them answers to a very important question they had. If the Hybrid was able to be controlled, it would increase the One’s military capabilities by ten-fold.

“Greetings Herald. We are pleased that you’ve agreed to meet us. You’ve proven to be a competent leader in the WFR, even if you disapprove that the Khan had anything to do with that.

Your people have impressed us greatly, otherwise we wouldn’t have tried doing what we’ve done. While a bit primal in combat for our liking, you’ve proven again and again that you’re a good enemy to have. ” said the Grant, their voice full of respect while their eyes were scanning the room. At last, they looked the Herald directly in the eye and continued :

“ But even better allies. We know who and what Bloodburn is Herald. The first step we’ve taken in understanding him was to make him one of us.

Every secret he had is now ours. We won’t disclose these secrets to anyone, so you don’t have to worry about that. They mean nothing to us. What we mean to say with this is that we understand who we’re dealing with.

For example, you’ve said his genetics are one-in-a-billion? The One makes their own chances. Right now, there are a few thousand hybrids on our planet. Those that we managed to control briefly, we send them to fight and die against the Immortalis’s machines. They all have Bloodburn’s abilities.

One-in-a-billion chance has become a 100% chance. That is not our problem and that is not why we are here.” the Grant stopped and let the words sink in.

They knew that it was dangerous to tell the Khan’s brother about their implants and information gathering abilities. Some might view the One’s way as inhuman or worse which would in turn reduced the chances of survival.

“ We can discuss a treaty at a later date but know that we agree for now. We shall return your soldier, his return is long-overdue and we have everything we need from him. You may send us just one cow. The fattest you have. We'll make more of them, not an issue.

As for the training programme…we’ll agree to it as well. Hopefully, it will bear fruit and our hybrid brothers will finally be allowed to join us. ” said the Grant while extending their hand to shake the Herald’s.

The Herald returned the handshake with gusto, obviously pleased with the turnout of events. ”I am sure your trouble with the Hybrids is some nonsense our conditioning will be able to wean out. Now, where is BLOODBURN?”

---

Unknown Location

A previously unknown soldier

---

It was a small room, one could not even call it a cell. A small bed and a nightstand next to it, bare walls and bare floors but with a separate room for a toilet and shower. A chute in the corner from which food and fresh clothing would arrive. It was here that Kingston awoke a mere three days ago by his counting. It was boring yet could have been far, ]far worse. The Khan would not provide as many luxuries to captured prisoners. And so, it was here he stewed, unknowing of what would happen to him, how long he was out for and what happened to the war. There was not even a visible door for him to rip out and the chute was too thin for his bulk.

The large orangutan was simply bored. This was until the far wall shook open abruptly, interrupting him from his three hour nap.

The One received their communications instantly through a link of clones sharing the upgraded implant. The Grant that met with the Herald, sent the information to those on the Meeting Place that passed it to a ship that was orbiting just out of the Gateway which then went into it, came out on the other side and sent it to the others.

Communication made instant. That was the true gift of the One implant.

Hundreds of Jamess gathered at the prison where not ‘till long ago housed two other prisoners from the ECU which were released straight after the WFR ended.
All the James’ were armed to their teeth, spears, bows, swords and a few carried machine guns and other weapons they’ve received or recently constructed from their allies.

A William stepped in the light-less cell and faced Bloodburn.

“ Mr. Kingston. The One has news for you. The war is over and the Khan has paid your ransom and you’re free to leave.

Please follow us and know that outside, we’ve got over a hundred of us watching your every move. Know that we don’t wish to see you harmed in any way but we will defend ourselves if you decide to attack us. ” said the William. Their voice was full of respect for the sergeant. A strong soldier deserved no less.

The orangutan sat up on the bed. His eyes scanned the outside, not to find the One which he sensed was there, but to figure out where he was.

Coming up with nothing, Kingston walked forward on all fours towards the William, stopping a metre away. “I was getting bored human, it’s about time my government decided to care enough to get me home.” He heaved himself to stand on two limbs and one would realise how large the modified soldier was compared to what an ordinary orangutan should best. And how muscular he was.

He strode forward in confidence, as though the soldiers which surrounded him could not stand to his might. Call it ignorance, call it foolhardy, but BLOODBURN could not care for his mind was somewhere else. There was only reason the Khan would pay even a pile of shit for his ransom.

OLYMPIA has come, and it needs a leader.

The advertisement ended with a stunning view of an ocean coast, bathed in sunlight and with white foam forming on the waves around jet black reefs. “So if you’re looking for a fresh start, to be part of a new colony’s founding or just an incredible view, don’t wait any longer! Black Teeth City is waiting for YOU!”

After a short pause, the broadcast showed a blazing blue star with the words ‘Blue Star News Network’ in front of it in shining 3D letters. At the bottom of the screen, a white on red text stated: ‘Special edition: fleet departure for Earth scheduled for tomorrow’. The upbeat music continued in the background as a clean-shaven man in a suit with short blonde hair and a red-haired woman wearing an elegant dress appeared on screen.

“Good evening,” the woman intoned with a bright smile, “I’m Nadzieja Finkel.”

The man beside her nodded, smiling as well. “And I’m Mathias Stachurski. Welcome to this special news edition, here on Blue Star News Network. We’ve had a big announcement today, is that right?”

“That’s the understatement of the year, Mathias!” Nadzieja brought a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “The KDD has officially confirmed earlier today that Task Force Vigrid is scheduled to go through the Gate tomorrow, at thirteen hours. Let’s backtrack on this month of effervescence since the Gate reactivated. A lot happened, didn’t it?”

“Indeed Nadzieja, most of us never imagined that such an event would happen during our lifetime, but the KDD reacted as quickly as usual and announced the creation of a brand new Department, the Department of Foreign Affairs.” The screen split to show a picture of a blonde woman in a Navy black and gold uniform to the right of the two journalists. “The appointed Director is a thirty-nine-year-old colonel by the name of Valka Kirillovna and, this is a piece of exclusive information that we have received just minutes ago, we have the name of our ambassador to anybody who might be out there.”

A second picture appeared under that of the new Director, a man with orange and purple odd-eyes, short black hair, and a similarly black goatee save for a white strip on the left side. “Vona Toman.” Nadzieja joined her hands on the table before her. “Quite the handsome man, if I dare to say. Let’s hope that whoever is out there will be charmed by this brilliant history professor. He will be under a lot of pressure, that’s for certain.”

Mathias nodded. “That’s right. I expect his boss to be breathing down his neck regularly. After all, it’s her career and her life that are on the line!”

-The next day-

Vona was trying his best to stay out of the way of the Navy personnel on the bridge of the New Sun, an Almaz-class cruiser and flagship of Task Force Vigrid. Everyone there always seemed to have something to do, while the Ambassador felt decidedly out of his element. But he would be damned if he spent any more time than he strictly had to in his cabin; he would be part of History now, instead of merely studying it. He nervously tapped his fingers on his cane’s pommel that he leaned on with his left hand. Even after all this time, he still had a slight limp.

It was funny, he thought, even as the ship’s commander was giving out orders for the fleet to make ready to move through the Gate he was still a little bummed that he couldn’t take Fuzz along. Of course, a military spaceship was no place for a shimmerbee, and Vona’s sister assured him that she would take care of her in his absence. But still…

Commander Masur’s stern voice sounded through the ship’s speakers in every section and in the rest of the fleet’s vessels. “To all ships, we have the green light. Move out.”

----------

Seven crafts emerged into the Sol system. The cruiser made the smaller frigates, two Kobalt and four Onyx, look tiny by comparison. To the human eye, there was nothing but the cold void around, but the fleet was already busy making sense of the myriad of information it was receiving.

Masur stood at the center of the bridge, hands on the table that served as a holographic map projector. “What do we have, Gerson?”

An officer turned around on her swivel seat. “There are signs of activity, sir. A lot. I’m getting communications as well as energy signatures concentrated around Earth. It’s hard to tell exactly what they are from this distance, but it’s busy.”

“Earth is our heading. Ahead slow, start broadcasting the Old English message. Shields active, keep all weapons powered down.” Another officer echoed the commander’s order, communicating the exact coordinates to the engine sections with his station’s phone while another did the same with the shields controls and a third contacted the weapon batteries.

As the fleet assumed a defensive formation and burned towards humanity’s cradle, Vona could barely contain his trepidation.

“To all entities, forces, and vessels in this system. We are representatives of the Kamenyan Defense Directorate, investigating the Sol system after the awakening of our Gateway. We are peaceful and wish to establish contact with the rest of humanity. Be advised, these ships are armed and we will use force in the eventuality of any aggressive action towards our detachment.”



“Hey, uh, George, I think you might want to see this.”

“What is it now?”

“Just come up here real quick. This seems kind of important.”

“Fine, Marcel, but this is the last time, do you hear me? Remember that time you said there was a space whale?”

George started climbing up the ladder to the ship’s tiny cockpit. The two men had been running a “package delivery service” in the fringes of the Kudrion system, and it had been rather successful, except for that one time where they nearly got stopped and searched at Baldr station. George pushed Marcel out of the way to get a better view. It was then that he saw the seven ships, one big one and six small ones. Uh oh.

“You’re right. This does seem kind of important. Think it’s some sort of police?”

“Nah, did you hear the transmission they sent out?”

“No, you idiot, I was downstairs. Summarize it for me.”

“Well,” Marcel excitedly said, “they said that they were representatives from a new nation whose gateway was only recently activated! Can you imagine that? If we notify the Ambassador we could be famous! Maybe we can even ask for some money?”

“Notify the authorities? Are you stupid? What do you think they’ll do when they find our cargo? Let me handle this.” George was already coming up with a scheme. Maybe they could profit from this after all.

George tried to send a message to the largest of the seven ships: “Hello, this is the KSS Stormfalcon. Uhh…” George paused for a moment. He had to make sure the lie was at least a little convincing. “We are diplomats from the Kingdom of Kudrion, on our way to the Meeting Place, the big station you see near Earth. However, maybe we could meet on your ship? It is a great honor to meet a nation new to the galactic scene.”

----------

Meanwhile, on the Meeting Place, Emily, the actual Kudrioni Ambassador, had just finished her last important job for the day, and was now relaxing. She had sat back, put her feet on the table (damn, she was gonna need to clean the dirt from her boots later), and was now scrolling through some of the news while enjoying some coffee.

Then she heard the message. And she spat out her coffee.

“Damnit,” she grumbled, “more work.”

----------

“Well what are the chances…” Commander Masur mumbled to himself. Next to him, Vona was practically jumping with joy.

“Hear that? Another colony! And there’s a whole bunch more by the sound of it.” He had a grin from ear to ear, like a kid with a new toy on Founding holidays, while most of the crew on the bridge exchanged smiles. Most Kamenyans hoped that other colonies had survived, but receiving confirmation was something else.

“It comes from a small ship, commander. About the size of a shuttle,” Lieutenant Gerson said.

“Open communications.” The commander did not seem to share his crew’s enthusiasm. “Stormfalcon, this is commander Masur aboard the ship New Sun. You have permission to board, you will receive a fighter escort to guide your ship.” Eyes still on the map, he had his eyes fixated on the small blue dot representing the unknown ship. “Zalewski, get me flight control.” Two seconds passed. “Have two birds take off with orders to scan the unknown vessel for weapons and energy signatures. If they’re clear, escort them to the cargo bay for landing. If not, they are to send a report to the bridge directly.”

“Commander, I don’t mean to overstep but… is this all really necessary?” Vona had enough awareness to speak softly, so as to not appear to be undermining Masur’s authority. “It almost sounds like we’re taking them captive.”

“I understand that you are on a diplomatic mission, Ambassador, but I will not expose my ship to unnecessary risks.” There was no arguing with the commander. “I’ll give you a squad of marines as escort from the cargo bay to your cabin.”

Minutes later, a pair of squat-looking crafts formed up to each side of the small ship. While their sensors scanned it, one of the pilots radioed its crew. “Stormfalcon, we are your escort to the New Sun. Please follow our lead.”

George rubbed his hands together. “See, Marcel? That’s how it’s done.”

Marcel had already started flying the ship towards the fleet when the two craft appeared. “Shit! They’ve sent out two fighters! What do we do? I’d rather not be imprisoned for smuggling on an unknown ship”

“Shut up for once and give me the radio.” George said as he roughly grabbed the speaker from Marcel’s hands. “Thank you, New Sun, we appreciate the escort.”

As the fighters scanned the two ships, they would see that the Stormfalcon only had a small turret on board, but it was currently powered off. The only energy signature that could be detected was the ship’s reactor.

Marcel steered towards the New Sun, following the two escort craft. “So, what do we do when we are inside? Do we pretend we’re gods or something?”

“You should stop watching those ancient movies, they’re not doing you any good. We’ll just pretend we’re diplomats, and try to get something from them.”

“So what does being a diplomat entail, exactly?”

“You know what? I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.”

----------

Vona Toman adjusted his suit and scrubbed the pin bearing the KDD’s symbol on his jacket’s left lapel, even though it was spotless already. The indicator light above the door to the cargo bay switched from red to yellow, then to green, indicating that the bay was pressurized and safe to enter. He took a deep breath and pulled the lever next to the door, which slid open.

The Kudrioni ship was there, held in place by the ship’s artificial gravity that was much higher than what would be normal for humans. Vona started walking towards it, his cane making a distinct metallic sound every time it struck the metal floor. Behind him came eight of the ship’s marines, each of them standing more than a foot taller than the Ambassador in their power armor, even though he was the Kamenyan average of 6’ 7”.

The boarding ramp of the Kudrioni ship opened with a hissing noise and a puff of steam, and two men, clad in an assortment of clothes and pelts, came out of the Stormfalcon. Marcel and George had realized that they didn’t have any official-looking uniforms, so they had quickly gathered a random mix of clothes to make them look a little more like diplomats, hoping that the Kamenyans would think that was just their culture.

George comically stumbled as he walked out of the ship, unused to the gravity that was much higher than their own homeworld, but was caught by Marcel. They walked all the way down the ramp, stopping in front of the Ambassador. Both of them were about as tall as the other man, owing to Kudrion’s own genetic modifications. “Hello,” George said, “We are George and Marcel. We are diplomats from the Kingdom of Kudrion. Once again it is an honor to meet you.”

“Greetings. My name is Vona Toman, Ambassador of the Kamenyan Defense Directorate.” Vona smiled amicably, trying his best to seem friendly despite the squad of heavily armored marines standing behind him. Strange clothes, he thought. But these men claimed to be representatives of a kingdom, of all things. Cultural differences are to be expected in these situations. “Please, follow me. My cabin is not exactly fit for diplomatic receptions, but it’s still better than a cargo bay.”

After a minute of walking, the would-be diplomats and their escort stepped into an elevator that started moving upwards after one of the soldiers pushed a button. “So, this… Meeting Place. Is it an embassy of some sort? We noticed a lot of activity around Earth’s orbit.”

George immediately started following Vona. Marcel, meanwhile, looked around nervously, wary of some sort of trap, before catching up with the two others. Neither of the two Kudrioni was really comfortable with the marines, but it was too late to turn back now. “Yes,” George said, “it is a great station, built by the many different nations that came through the Gateway. I’ve got no idea why, though. It was there when our nation arrived, at least that’s what everyone says.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just taken aback a little by your height. On the meeting place, many are shorter than we are, so it’s a little surprising to see people who are as tall. Also, why do I feel so heavy?” George rubbed his back after asking that last question, clearly in pain.

“Ah, apologies. Gravity on our homeworld is… quite a bit higher than what most humans would be used to. It is indirectly the reason why we Kamenyans are tall. My height is about average, you see.” It didn’t make much sense that higher gravity would make people taller, but the elevator stopping gave Vona an excuse to change the subject. He wasn’t eager to start disclosing too much information right off the bat. “Here we are.” The door to his cabin opened and he walked inside. The soldiers in dark power armor took up stations in the corridor and next to the elevator, and Vona gestured for the two smugglers-turned-diplomats towards a metal desk with two simple but comfortable seats, a swivel chair on the other side of it. The room was not very large without being cramped, just able to accommodate a bookshelf and a few other pieces of furniture. “Please, have a seat. Would you care for a drink? Tea, perhaps? Or, if you would prefer something stronger, I have a bottle of redfruit schnapps for occasions such as this.”

Both men sat down at the table. “I would like some of the schnapps, please,” George responded. “And my friend here does too,” he said, gesturing to Marcel who nodded eagerly. The two smugglers hadn’t had any alcohol for some time, given that it wasn’t safe to drink while operating a spaceship full of very valuable, illegal cargo.

Vona opened a small cabinet and grabbed a bottle containing a clear liquid with a slight reddish hue and three small glasses, pouring one for each of his guests and one for himself before sitting down. “To our meeting, then.” He took a sip, letting the fruity flavor and slight sweetness fade before speaking up again, examining George and Marcel with his orange and purple odd-eyes. “So then, I hope that our arrival did not interrupt some mission of yours. We will do our best to not delay you, we will get to the Meeting Place soon enough.”

George took a sip of the drink. In his opinion, it wasn’t quite on par with the alcohol served in taverns on his home planet, but it would do for the occasion. Only then did he notice Vona’s eyes. They were orange and purple. He found it quite strange, he had seen many eye colors aboard the station, but never something like this. “Ah, yes, we were indeed on a mission. We uhh.” George paused for a moment, trying to think of an acceptable lie. “We are on a mission to bring gifts to the Empire of Newhesh. They are currently on our ship. That’s why we brought a cargo shuttle, see.” Wait, did Vona say the ship was heading to the Meeting Place? That can’t be good… “Actually, if we may, we would like to offer these gifts to you instead.”

That gave Vona pause as he raised an eyebrow. He started to think that these diplomats behaved rather strangely, despite reminding himself that cultural differences may be significant. “To us? I am sorry, but… I believe that you should offer these gifts to whoever they were intended for. I have no wish to interfere with your duties, nor does the Directorate expect to receive gifts.” He leaned back into his chair. “Besides, I can’t think of something we could give in exchange. Since this is a military vessel, we do not have much in the way of trading goods with us.”

Judging from Vona’s reaction, that was apparently the wrong thing to say. Guess they weren’t getting rid of the evidence today. “Of course! I just thought it would be nice to give something to a newly arriving nation,” George said, putting on a bright smile. “ The Empire can wait a little bit more, after all. We would be glad to accompany you to the Meeting Place, though. We could even give you a tour!” George nervously took sips from his glass of schnapps, waiting for the ship to arrive at the station…

While the Kamenyan Ambassador and his two guests made small talk, the New Sun eventually closed the distance with the station, its escort remaining at a respectable range as a show of good will. Actually docking with the Meeting Place took a while, since the dimensions of the airlocks were quite different. Eventually, the cruiser deployed an emergency flexible tube to connect to the gigantic space station, through which Vona and the two smugglers, accompanied by two of the ship’s marines, walked all the way to the Meeting Place. Despite the doubts he had in the back of his mind concerning the so-called Kudrioni diplomats, he couldn’t help being ecstatic at the thought of setting foot in an interstellar embassy.

As Vona stepped into the airlock, the first thing he noticed was how… light he was. Of course, he remembered, the gravity is lower here. That glass of schnapps suddenly seemed like it wasn’t the best idea after all, but just as the Ambassador swallowed in an effort to keep his breakfast down, the airlock opened.

The two ‘diplomats’ followed Vona through the ship’s tube, a little concerned about the sturdiness of the whole thing. If there was somehow a leak, they’d all die. Both men were happy being back at the station, though. Maybe they could try going to a bar somewhere to drink their sorrows away. However, their smiles and optimism faded as soon as the airlock opened and they saw what was on the other side.

Emily Kaldaz, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Kudrion, as well as the highest Kudrioni authority on the Meeting Place, was not amused. Though her blank expression didn’t show it, she was absolutely livid. After the New Sun’s message had been broadcasted throughout the station, she had quickly made preparations for its arrival. Kudrion had no first-contact protocol and she had been forced to improvise, however. It had been when she was choosing guards to accompany her that she heard that there were already diplomats from her nation on the ship. That was preposterous, of course, as Emily knew that King Dishuz had sent only her to act as a diplomat, and she came to the conclusion that they must be impostors.

Surrounded by four soldiers of the Royal Guard, who were clad in their resplendent silvery-white power armor, and holding their rifles, Emily waited for the ship to arrive. As she looked at the opening airlock, arms crossed, the slightest hint of a frown appeared on her face. Her suspicions had been proven correct.

Vona stepped out of the airlock, giving the woman a polite nod. “Greetings. My name is Vona Toman, Ambassador on behalf of Kamenymir. You must be Emily Kaldaz.” He received this information over the phone in his cabin when the commander of the New Sun informed him that a delegation would meet him on the Meeting Place. Vona deliberately withheld this information from George and Marcel, looking to confirm or dispel his doubts for good.

“I am indeed Ambassador Kaldaz. Welcome to the Meeting Place, Ambassador Vona.” The first thing she noticed was that Vona was actually a good bit taller than her, something that she wasn’t used to when meeting with foreigners. The second thing, of course, were the two disheveled men accompanying him. These must be the ‘diplomats’ that she’d heard about. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Who are these two men?”

The Kamenyan raised an eyebrow. “I thought you might know.” He gestured towards the two men. “George, and Marcel. I learned from them that they were on a diplomatic mission to the Empire of Newhesh.” Vona’s tone made it clear now that he had his doubts. Behind them, the two marines moved their thumbs over the safety lever of their rifles.

Well, that confirmed it. “It is with great displeasure that I inform you that this ‘Empire of Newhesh’ does not exist. I believe that you are in the presence of two wanted Kudrioni criminals, smugglers perhaps, Ambassador Vona. I would appreciate it if you would hand them over so that they may be tried according to our laws,” Emily said, her restrained anger apparent to those who paid close attention.

Behind Vona, both ‘diplomats’ became increasingly more panicked as they heard the actual ambassador speak. “She’s lying! We’re the real diplomats and she’s the fake!” Marcel shouted, speaking for the first time since he had come aboard the New Sun. He was then promptly rewarded for this act with a slap to the back of his head from Marcel.

Vona sighed. Well, this was embarrassing. “Sergeant, if you would be so kind.” The two marines each clasped a hand on the smugglers’ shoulders, the strength of their fingers’ grip quite painful as they effortlessly pushed George and Marcel in front of them. “My apologies, Ambassador. I hoped that our first meeting would be more, ah… Prestigious.”

The two smugglers, rubbing their shoulders from the pain, resigned themselves to their fate. There was no running now. George and Marcel walked forward, towards their countrymen, and were eventually intercepted by the Royal Guard, who gripped them equally as painfully as the marines had.

“Now that is dealt with, I suggest we meet some other time, under better circumstances. I would be interested in learning about your country,” the Kudrioni ambassador said, her tone not much friendlier than the one she had before.

“Likewise. I would be glad to meet again… at a time of your choosing.” Vona looked around, tapping his fingers on his cane’s pommel. “Until then, we will work to establish a proper embassy.” And I will work to visit every inch of this place, he thought. How was that for a first day on the job?

About an hour later, a short message was broadcasted on the Meeting place.

“To the attention of all nations represented on this station, we are the Kamenyan Defense Directorate, sole governing body of Kamenymir. We are a peaceful people and look forward to working hand in hand with fellow children of Earth for our mutual benefit. If you wish to contact us, Ambassador Vona Toman is available for any diplomatic purposes.”

Collab with @jorvhik

Kelsie growled, her fingers clutching the tablet so tight the plastic cover creaked. It was all nonsense, gibberish. A migraine was looming in the back of her head again. Weeks, months of going through the absurd attempts at translating the alien source code. It didn't even matter neither she nor David knew anything about programming. Julianna did and she was as clueless as they were.

It seemed that the main problem was the Fritols being so stupidly poetic, to the point it made whatever text they wrote basically indecipherable. Damn, now she was using that stupid name for the aliens as well. Of course Kelsie and the others had no way to know what the original builders of the station they were trapped on called themselves. There were plenty of words without apparent meaning, any of them could have been a name, just as it could have been a swear word. Or pretty much anything else.

For quite a while, they were only referred to as "the aliens", or, due to them being about twice as tall as a normal human, "the freakishly tall aliens". Kelsie was quite sure it was David who first came up with the acronym but it was so damn catchy that "the freakishly tall aliens" soon became the Fritols for the two women as well. At least now Kelsie had a name to curse those bastards properly.

"The stream flows through the grate but the leaf doesn't unless its name is love." Kelsie finished the sentence and stared at the screen, blinking absentmindedly. Seriously? This was a source code. Yes, the whole damn thing was written using natural language programming, a common speech littered with codewords instead of a mess of brackets and nonsensical variables one would expect to see in a source code. But this was so far off it seemed more like a poem than a description of a security system.

"What did you just say?" David looked at her in surprise, brushing a long lock of hair out of his face. It has grown almost up to his shoulders in the six months they've been here and he refused to let Kelsie cut it. At least he still kept shaving, otherwise he'd look like some crazy caveman.

Kelsie shook her head. "Nothing. Just a wrong translation." It must have been.

"Perhaps not. Read it again." His brows furrowed as he swiped over his screen, frantically looking for something.

"No." She rested her head against the wall behind her, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's gibberish, David. Any of these words could mean like two or three different things, this was just the first combination that fell out of the translator." They were slowly building a database with a sophisticated search and translate engine so they wouldn't have to actually remember all the symbol combinations and meanings.

In other parts of the code, they were actually pretty successful in translating them and taking control of the station's systems. Gravity settings, lighting, water purification and circulation, internal and external sensors of all kinds, logs, storage manifests. They even managed to turn on some sort of a cool force field around the docking areas, allowing them to be repressurized which sped up David's work on repairing the Chimera. But the security system controlling the Big Balls, a brutal automated defense mechanism that destroyed any ship that dared to enter through the Gateway, still resisted their attempts.

David obviously found what he was looking for because he stopped moving, narrow eyes watching his screen. “Hey, Julianna?” he spoke into his radio. “Could you stop by for a moment? We need a functioning brain around here.”

“Dave, it’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything, none of it.” It was hard to keep up hope after the long months of having no success understanding the bloody thing.

He sat down next to her and softly punched her shoulder. “Hey, shouldn’t you be the one encouraging us?” His hair tickled Kelsie’s face as he leaned down to kiss her.

“For fuck’s sake, did you call me here to watch you have sex? Again?” Julianna’s annoyed voice sounded from the door.

David chuckled. “No. I might have found something. And you were right, Kelsie, you translated it wrong, you missed a preposition.”

“I didn't miss it, I just chose to ignore it because it made even less sense with it.” Kelsie rolled her eyes and squinted at the screen again. “The stream flows through the grate but the leaf doesn't unless its name is in love.” No, the preposition certainly didn’t make it any better. “Its name is in love? That’s even worse gibberish than before.”

“It isn’t! I’ve seen love before!”

David sounded excited and the women stared at him, speechless. “See, I told you,” Kelsie turned to Julianna, whispering inconspicuously, “space madness. It’s just a matter of time before he starts chasing us around with a pickaxe.”

“I don’t think we have a pickaxe here,” Julianna giggled. “But yes, I agree. He’s lost it.”

A quiet sigh escaped David’s lips. “Seriously, women. Shouldn’t you be the ones who understand metaphors better? It’s not love, it’s LOVE. Look.” He sent them a screen with partially translated text. The heading at the top of the text said LOVE. “I came across this a while ago and gave up after a few lines because it made no sense. I mean look at that list. Whispering Wind? Falling Fury? Crouching Darkness? It sounded like a list of some dumb movie titles.”

Kelsie had to agree. Just as pointless as this whole conversation. But Julianna’s brows furrowed as she watched the symbols. “You don’t mean…”

“Its name is in LOVE.” David nodded. “I mean it’s probably not as simple as a name, but those numbers after them… Couldn’t they be some sort of a unique descriptor?”

Julianna’s eyes widened as she stared at David with an open mouth. Kelsie still had no clue what any of it meant. “Guys? Care to share with the rest of the class?”

“That dimwit actually figured it out.” Julianna gave David an astonished look and turned to Kelsie. “The leaf can go through the grate if its name is in LOVE.” Kelsie groaned, wishing they would stop repeating that nonsense, but the young scientist continued, “The ship can pass through the defence mechanism if it is on this list! All this time we’ve been trying to shut the whole thing down but what if we don’t have to? I mean how did the Fritols actually leave this place if the Balls destroy anything that moves?”

Kelsie blinked, the realization slowly starting to dawn on her. “Their ships were in LOVE?”

“Yes! Gods, I’m so stupid, why didn’t I think of that before? It’s just a simple whitelist. If we manage to add Chimera’s signature there…”

“...we can go home?” Kelsie finished her sentence, not allowing the tiny seed of hope in her mind to take root just yet. “Can you do it?”

Julianna snorted. “If it means getting out of here? I can do anything.”




It worked. Kelsie almost felt dizzy as she held her breath while David carefully maneuvered the roughly patched Chimera out of the docks. They said a quick prayer to the long-lost Old Earth gods none of them believed in and Julianna flipped the switch on the backup generator. The power slowly went online throughout the crippled ship, all screens turning red with countless warnings and errors.

Kelsie stood in the destroyed cargo hold, watching one of the Balls through the huge hole in the side of the hull. If they were going to die, she at least wanted a front-row seat. She drew a shaky breath as the lights went on around her, expecting to see the blue hue around the alien weapon when it started to charge up. But nothing happened. The ball hovered around them for a few moments and then moved away to guard another corner of this dead system.

“I think we’re good.” Her voice was trembling.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” David sounded worried and Kelsie slowly headed to the cockpit, the magnetic boots of her spacesuit making no noise in the vacuum. “The propulsion system was damaged by the explosion and it’s only working on a fraction of a capacity. It’s going to get us to the Gateway but… it’s going to take some time.”

“More time than we have?” Julianna knew what he meant and so did Kelsie. Their suits only had a couple of hours of air supply and there was no way to replenish it after they left the relative safety of the Fritol base.

“It’s going to be very close.”

They gathered in the cockpit, sitting in silence trying to conserve as much air as they could, watching the dark emptiness of space in front of them. David had programmed an autopilot to input coordinates and take them through the Gateway just in case they pass out before reaching it. At the very least, the Chimera will bring their bodies back home. Not a very reassuring thought.

There was not much left to talk about, they’ve spent the past six months together and debated almost every thinkable topic over and over. Except one. “Hey, Kelsie?” Julianna’s voice was quiet and she sounded nervous. “I think it’s time you finally told us why do you hate your mother so much.”

“Fuck off.” That was certainly not something Kelsie would want to waste air on.

David turned his head to her. “No, the little smart one is right. We’ve spent half a year dissecting every bit of each other’s lives but you never told us about that. Don’t I deserve to know why I should hate my mother-in-law?”

“We’re not married, idiot.”

“Hmm, true.” David nodded and reached for Kelsie’s hand. She barely even felt his touch through the thick gloves. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes rolled almost involuntarily. “You are only asking since we are going to die anyway.”

“I’m not! I made a ring but I don’t think it would fit on a spacesuit glove. I mean you have huge hands for a woman but still...”

They both chuckled over the idea until Julianna stopped them. “You’re blabbering. The CO2 levels are getting high and oxygen is running out. Tell us the story before we pass out.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Kelsie wanted to spit on the ground, remembering that she was wearing a spacesuit helmet at the last possible moment. “My mother was a Rejected because she refused to follow orders, always contradicting them, debating over everything. I think the only reason they didn’t put a bullet through her head right away was that she was this young genius. She was never satisfied with how things were, not just with how the Rejected were treated but also with the whole war on the Screechers, how society functioned… Nothing was ever good for her.

She kept whispering into the ears of my father for so long until he disobeyed a direct order. It was at the front, he was supposed to lead an attack on a Screecher village, burn it down, kill everyone. He refused and spoke up against it so loudly and passionately they had him executed on the spot. Pawlowski did it. Our Grand General was just a Major back then, the best friend of my father. And his executioner. I was still at the academy and it was hard, but Pawlowski and Hamonga pulled me through, helped me separate my career from my parents’ actions.

Claire, well… my mother lost it. She became obsessed with revenge. The last thing I knew she attempted to blow up the Citadel using some doomsday device of her own invention. I assumed they killed her. But no, they just locked her up for twenty years and now she’s back to make my life even more miserable.” Kelsie sighed. “You happy now? Was that the last story you wanted to hear before you die?”

“I can’t hate her.” Julianna’s voice was getting weaker. “She made my life better. You did too. I love both of you.”

“I can hate her just fine if you want. I don’t really give a shit.”

Kelsie laughed, feeling dizzy. “Wow, such support you two are. Huh, what is that?” She pointed out of the cockpit window. The Chimera was getting closer to the Gateway but not fast enough. None of them was most likely going to be conscious when they will pass through.

“Was that…” David leaned forward and squinted. “A body?”

There was nobody else on board their ship when they arrived so the body couldn’t have come from Chimera. Yet, it was floating there among some wreckage, blackened and dried by the long exposure to the hard vacuum, clearly human, dressed in some casual clothes. “Oh, shit.” Julianna pointed at a chunk of huge pieces of metal flying around, fortunately off their trajectory. “It’s a colony ship, just like the one our people used to get to Ellara. The Old Earthers sent a ship full of people to colonize this system three hundred years ago.”

“And the Fritol defense mechanism blew it up as it entered.” Kelsie finished the girl’s thought, barely keeping her eyes open anymore. So many lives lost. Breathing got harder and it didn’t bring the usual relief of fresh air filling the lungs. No, now it was like giving a parched person a single drop of water, expecting it to quench their thirst. The wormhole quietly rotated in space.

So close and yet so far.

It needs to be a show. Omar knows that, even as he doesn't like it. He wants to be honest by nature: he wants to step up there and simply say what he has to say. But Bezia is New Hollywood- he hates that Oligarch name- and New Hollywood demands a performance. The director told him: stand just so, wear just this, let this song play and this atmosphere build and give this impression, to make a good impression on the Meeting Place. Don't frown. Use that broad smile. Wear your glasses, don't listen to the feedback chatter. Be a performer.

He feels like a marionette.

Omar has his glasses on, an earwig in his head. Not the biological kind: a metal earwig, a descendent of the headphone, sits buried in his right ear. His curly black hair hides it, that devilish little device, while a cosmetologist-costumer frets and frets over him. She wants to make sure his outfit is just right. Absolutely perfect. She's given him a long, light brown robe, hoodless, loose around the limbs. (He supposes this is her attempt at making him look "religious.") But, funnily, the robe has a little patch in the shape of Earth- sewn right where the heart is. Probably meant to say Look, we still respect Earth too!

"Oh, honey, don't be such a sad guy," the cosmetologist reads his face, and speaks in a near-perfect recreation of a late 20th century Bronx accent. "It's gonna be alright! This gonna be your first time on stage? Just focus on all those words that they made you rehears, you know, and-"

"It's not at all my first time on stage," Omar tries to interrupt, "but it is my first time getting makeu-"

"-if you have to, imagine the audience naked!" His costumer pauses, placing a makeup brush against her chin in a thoughtful way. "Or was it in their underwear? Eh, I can never remember, just do one or the other and you'll be fine, sweetie, absolutely fine, now let's get your little outfit finished- Ah! You're gonna look amaaaazing!"

Will he? Good to know. Omar tries to take it all in stride. He remembers the Ruinist philosophy on situations like this well: recently, he's contributed to some of it. One cannot fully control one's circumstances, they teach, so one must instead readjust one's interior life to accept them. He knows this. Life and Truth will not bow to you; it is your duty to bow to them, drinking the cup that is placed before you. Whatever the situation, one must brace oneself and weather it. This is where peace lies-

"Here you go, honey," Omar's costumer interrupts his attempt at philosophy. She's busy tying golden fabric from his shoulder to his hip, making for a lacy, glittering sash. Huh, he realizes. It's actually unique. A costume worn by a man of New Hollywood- scratch that, Bezia- which isn't an imitation of an Old Earth outfit. Clothes with no connection to the past, made for this particular occasion, by designers working today. It would be a sin under the ECU. That thought does give Omar's heart some hope. Not all that is new has been lost to the old show.

"Get outta there, it's time to go on stage," a man's voice speaks softly and directly into his right ear, and Omar finds himself perfectly in agreement with it, "we've got 120 seconds 'till camera roll." The cosmetologist-costumer makes a face of surprise when big Omar turns, fast, and escapes out of her clutches. She is left with a comb hanging limply in her hands, frozen mid-brush. He realizes she can't hear the director. Now, he thinks, the pomp has gotten all the way into my head.

"Oh, uh, uh- good luck with your debut!," she calls behind him, from her habit of talking to all those fresh young actors, but it makes him cringe inside. This is not a debut. He is a serious Liaison. Truth, I need you to walk onto this with me, and walk off it with me. From a dark, cramped backstage room, he approaches the stage proper.

And by Truth, is it a stage. A newly built section of the Meeting Place, attached at the hip to the White Flower segment, provides a theater-like environment dipped in gold and soaked in the atmosphere of an early 20th century construction. If you were to yell in here, your yell would rise up to balconies, pass bronze railings, climb wood-panel steps and echo right back to you off a far-distant wall. ('We can't let the Zetans or those Ishtari show us up,' someone recently claimed.)

Not that you would ever need to yell. Clever acoustics promise that if you were to whisper from the stage, they could hear you in the thirty-fifth row, and talk back to you from the second balcony. Seating for two thousand. A stage that is, tonight, set for one: Omar.

He steels himself. Any recurring butterflies in his stomach have been firmly squashed. After his success with the Ishtari, maybe he shouldn't be worried?

No, he knows he is capable. Liaison Affan is nothing if not a people person. He can't see them from here, still being behind the stage's curtain, but representatives of several nations are present, each invited by the Flowers for this occasion. All together, they fill up not even a tenth of the available space. The room must be comically empty. But the Flowers know that any second now, holograms will appear to fill up one-thousand-five-hundred seats: all of which were given to a random citizen by lottery. Scattered all over Bezia, those 1500 citizens are sitting in holo-suites, waiting for the show to begin. When it does, their holo-suites shall immediately take the form of the Meeting Place's Flower Theater, and they shall immediately appear as holograms in the real one. They'll watch virtually. Empty seats are ugly.

"Five, four, three..." the director counts down in Omar's ear. He steps out from the back and onto the main floor of the stage, as velvet curtains slowly pull away, "...two, one. Go time. You've got this, Affan."

The currents are drawn. The holograms of Flower citizens have already appeared, shamelessly swiveling and gawking around this huge room. But in the front seats: there sits the nations. So calm and diplomatic. Omar recognizes the patricians, and wonders if any of them recognize him. He spots their Alfonso. A member of the One lurks somewhere further to the back. And, many seats away from either, Omar spots the Isthari- seeing them does make him smile.

Let's go.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Omar speaks like a showman, inspired by his surroundings, "my name is Omar Affan, Liaison of the White Flower Democracy. I would like to thank you all- my countrymen and visitors both- for coming tonight, whether by hologram or in person. I do have announcements to make. But first... I have a story for you."

A chime strikes at his last words. He is no longer the only person on the stage. Ghostly apparitions of holograms slide into being around him, not at all like the ones occupying seats, abstractions representing figures out of Bezia's past. They're human shaped, without detail: silhouettes in color. They are entirely green, or entirely golden, or entirely blue. They're not-quite-perfect in shape, like a splash of watercolor paint.

"In the beginning, there was a tyrant."

Those shadowy beings of color start to move, a watercolor blur trailing each movement. A single, black figure appears, shorter than the rest, whispering in their ears. Every character he speaks to turns a shade darker, until flowingly, in graceful movements, he leaps away from them like a dancer and slides to another. The darkened shades follow him across the stage.

"This was the first Savant..."

As Omar recites his story, the holo-actors flow with him, enacting each scene like a painting. (Later, it will be found that a recording of the event can be paused on any frame, and will lose none of its splendor.) He moves poetically and slowly through history of the ECU, sparring nothing: he talks about the London Assassinations, the Savant's Seventh Principle, the violent suppression of the '38 Beijing Riots, the horror of it all. Many scenes would make their guests grateful that holograms cannot suffer. And that these holograms do not have faces.

He glances pointedly at the Matuvistans more than once, as if to say 'These tyrants were your allies'- without actually saying it.

Eventually, he comes to modern times.

"The protectors," Omar's voice fills the hushed room, "were a lie. They never protected. They were first founded after an Oligarch's violent death. Vengefully, they carried that same violence into everything they did..."

A figure in gold crushes his mace into a figure in white, sending red watercolor blood to float slowly through the air. A drop passes by Omar's face. When he speaks, it seems to blow away at the breath of his word:

"Until."

As he says that magic phrase, the scene behind him shifts dramatically. New figures appear out of thin air, filling the stage, cramming it to absolute bursting with scenes of New Hollywood history. Directly behind and around Omar is a scene of the Revolution, white specters wrestling against golden protectors and red shapes that might be Matuvistans. To the left of him lie the Beijing Riots, to the right the murder of Dr. Yung, to the far left a work camp, and to the far right the rise of the first Savant.

"Until," Omar says again. By microphone and acoustic tricks, the word echoes through the entire theater. The shades hear him.

From behind, the Flowers move out of their scene of Revolution, invading all the others. They jump in front of Dr. Yung just before the bullets crash into her. They free the prisoners of the work camp and aid the Beijing rioters. They drag the first Savant off the stage and into the darkness behind it. It is as if they are pouring backwards into history, dismantling all the tyranny, righting all the wrongs. It is a message: we're not only taking power; we're setting the past right again.

Omar goes on for a moment, painting more scenes of battle, victory, violent-glorious revolution. He, wisely, never mentions those foreigners they fought against by name- but the implication is there. The play ends with a lone silhouette, white and shredded with ghostly cuts taken in battle, standing alone. A crown shaped like a flower is on its head.

Whatever the foreign diplomats feel about it, that audience of Flowers bursts into holographic claps that drown out the room.



As promised, Omar does make some actual announcements.

Eventually, the clapping dies down, and the room slowly returns to sobriety. "Ahem," Omar says. Those few Flowers still celebrating calm themselves to listen.

"Now, I did gather everyone here for some reasons other than a history lesson-" pause for laughter, take a breath, resume- "and in fact, there is some important business to get to." The true delegates and ambassadors in the room prepare themselves.

"In the last six months, the White Flower Democracy has been in formation. Our planet, as many of you know, was in an intense cycle of recovery and repair following recent events. You know the events I'm talking about. We regret that, during that time, we have not always been able to be as active on the intergalactic stage as we would have preferred. But I'm here to reassure you all: that ends tonight. We are reaching out formally, to all nations, to establish true diplomatic and trade relations. This offer does extend to those who may have been former enemies. We are not unforgiving: the WFD understands that the nature of international diplomacy sometimes causes a nation to take one side or the other. We've decided we won't take it personally." In other words, the door is not totally closed to the Khanate and the Matuvistans.

"There," Omar smiles, "that's the boring part out of the way. The more interesting bit is this..." In his soul, the Liaison must admit, he relishes this moment.

"Months ago, during the Revolution, many of your nations received some rather cryptic messages from the terminal of then-Liaison Abadi. A few sentences, reading something like:

'Some say you're for us, some aren't so sure.

Come out the shadows. Fight openly for what your heart knows is right.

And one day,

We'll pay you back,
A Flower That Grows Where Nations Meet.'

You will have realized that they were not from her. No, in fact, they were sent from a Flower who was embedded in the Meeting Place at the time. He had been there since it's opening, since even before the Revolution. Those messages he sent at last were... to poke the bear, so to speak, and see if it lashes out at you. To remind all of you in the intergalactic community 'We are here. We are not only rebels on New Hollywood. We are present with you right now.'

It was me. I am the Flower That Grows Wear Nations Meet, and I am pleased- no, proud- to have been the first citizen to question the Undefeated, to thank the Columbians, to criticize the Khan, and to apologize to the people that were then known as the Zetans and now as the Enlightened."

Pause for reaction.

"If any of you have qualms with what feelings I may have expressed, you may take them up with me. Personally. The White Flower Democracy did not exist at that time that I sent those messages, so naturally, I acted alone. But do not misunderstand: I stand by what I said.

Thank you all for your time."

As Omar turned to walk off the stage- now free of holographic actors and specters- the smooth and low voice of the Director spoke into his ear "Making yourself a martyr, Omar?" Indeed he was, but that word reminded him of something.

"Oh," he said, turning for a moment back towards the audience, and thankful his voice was still echoing properly through the room, "as a final note, I am pleased to announce that Bezia is officially opening her borders to visitors. Please, come see our land. Unlike the ECU, we are not afraid of foreigners, or their ideas. Previous restrictions against religion have been fully lifted. You are all welcome here."

For a moment, as he turns away, Omar accidentally makes eye contact with a Matuvistan priest who came along with his nation's delegation. A tall, imperial man in a black robe with a white collar at the neck. He nods grimly to the Liaison.

Then I suppose we'll see you soon.

The Flower audience flickers out of being.

“Greetings, Emily, it is good to see you.”

“That is Ambassador Kaldaz to you, Chieftain Collins,” Emily snapped at him, “Act professionally, you’re here for business after all.”

Moimir furrowed his brow, confused by her reaction. He’d known Emily for years, given that she used to be part of a clan that worked for his own, and she never spoke to him like that.

“Very well. How are you feeling? I know you’ve had to deal with some sudden changes.”

“How I am feeling is irrelevant, Chieftain Collins, we should get to work.”

“Alright, alright,” Moimir leaned back in his chair and took a swig of his mead. He took some time to study the carvings on the walls, annoying Emily in the process, before he began to speak. “As you know, our King has ordered me to travel here every two months to check up on this whole operation. Could you give me your report of what happened here in these past months?”

Emily grabbed her tablet. She had prepared for this, of course. Moimir’s lack of knowledge, and the King’s apparent lack of trust in her grated her a little, though. “After the signing of our alliance with the Undefeated, a number of things happened here. Firstly, there were the people of ‘New Ishtar’ who brought with them their own, pre-built addition to this station. I hear it’s quite impressive.”

“I’ve seen it from the outside. A bit pompous, don’t you think? All you’d really need is a long hallway, an office, and some places for guards to sleep in,” Moimir snickered at his own sense of humor.

Emily glared at him, but made no comment. “Then there were the Zetans, the cyborgs,” she added quickly after seeing the Chieftain’s confusion, “who announced that they were renaming themselves to the ‘Enlightened Symposium’. Do keep your comments to yourself.”

Moimir, of course, had opened his mouth to say something but chose to remain silent.

“Furthermore, the Khanate of the Apes, a nation made up of genetically modified Old Earth apes, has given a strange gift. My hypothesis is that it is some sort of dog, although it is unlike any dog that can be found on Kudrion, a different strain, perhaps. I’ve tasked Captain Róg with taking care of it, as I have my hands full”

Moimir just nodded silently. Beli Róg, Captain of the Kudrioni Royal Guards on the station, was a good man, and if anyone knew what to do with this creature it was him.

“We have also received a message from the White Flower Democracy,” Emily continued, “ who asked to exchange ideas on our energy-projection technology. I recommend we do not reply. Showing them how our technology works will mean we lose a possible advantage in case of war.”

The Chieftain took some time to ponder what ‘energy-projection’ meant until he realized Emily was talking about the hardlight swords. “That is precisely why we must reply. It is more honorable to fight an opponent that is as strong as you are. Send a message that we accept their offer.”

Of course, she’d forgotten about the stupid code of honor that most on Kudrion still clung on to, even if it resulted in defeat. “Chieftain, I must protest. We shouldn’t give away every secret that the Kingdom has.”

“Ambassador Kaldaz, you will send that message to the WFD, that’s final. Now, was there anything else to include in your report?”

“Yes,” Emily said, resigned, “there was also the incident with the Kamenyans. Two smugglers, operating in the fringes of our home system, managed to enter a Kamenyan ship by pretending they were diplomats. This was only discovered when the Kamenyan ambassador came aboard this station.”

“I’ve heard of that. Don’t you think that you punished those men a little too severely? The law may call for trial by combat, but even the King often takes clemency on those whose crimes were not too severe.”

“No, Chieftain, I do not think that they were punished too severely. I am not only the Kingdom’s representative, but I am also charged with upholding our laws for Kudrioni citizens in this system. You would do well to remember that.”

“And if you were not? Would you still have condemned those men to their probable deaths?”

Emily paused for a moment. For whatever reason, it was not something that she wanted to think about, but she steeled herself and gave her reply: “Yes, I would have.”

---

Adressing @Tortoise

Commander Peter Ross nervously swiped over the messages on his datapad. What was he even doing here? He was a soldier his entire life, a battle-hardened veteran. And, for some reason, Guardian Harlowe thought it was the best qualification for being an important diplomat in this place filled with… you couldn’t even call some of them human anymore, could you? But orders were orders, and while (at least officially) he could have refused, he knew it would be devastating to his career. So, he became a diplomat. And spent every day being drowned by his new responsibilities, making decisions that felt way above his pay grade, worrying he’s made the wrong ones.

It wasn’t all bad, most of the meetings weren’t super important like Peter’s first one where they debated the alliance treaty with the Kudrioni. He still felt bad about remembering how uneasy Emily Kaldaz seemed after recognizing him. It was absolutely understandable, given how their first encounter went by, with all the guns and strike teams and everything. Peter tried to stay out of her way for the next few weeks, not wanting to make her feel even more awkward, but it was remarkably difficult since there were close diplomatic relationships between their nations now and the representatives often met to debate various topics. She was always so glum and frowned at him.

Granted, she seemed to be that way around everyone, but Peter took it personally, believing it was his fault she was this unhappy and wanted to at least apologize to her for how his team invaded the ship she was on, putting them all in danger. He knew that as a Kudrioni, Emily had probably gone through military training as well, she was certainly no damsel in distress, but she was still a woman, and Peter was trying to be a gentleman. Not that he had had any success with it in the past, he seemed to scare every female away, but Emily was an important figure for their allies, so he ought to at least try to set things straight with her.

That’s why he sent her a message, inviting her to a quick meeting over a small misunderstanding in one of the treaties that were signed some time ago. Honestly, the whole thing was absolutely unimportant and could have been solved over messages but it made a good pretense to meet up with Emily. As he was getting ready to go, something licked his hand.

Peter looked down with a sigh. Bony Stark was officially Harlowe’s responsibility, but the Guardian was in some important negotiations that would probably take all day. Which meant Peter would have to bring the dog along to his meeting with Emily. Hopefully, she wasn’t allergic. At least Harlowe did a very good job training Bony and a tiny robot, a generous gift from the New Haven Directorate, followed the furry beast everywhere, cleaning after it because Peter was certainly not going to pick up dog shit.

It had been a few days after Emily’s discussion with Moimir. Those days, Emily had been buried under mountains of work. She didn’t mind it much, though. The work kept her busy, her mind free from troublesome thoughts and questions she didn’t want to think about. Of course, it did also confront her with the failures of Kudrion as a nation, but she had learned to bottle up those thoughts as well. She was just about to write another report to send back home when she got a very interesting notification on her tablet computer.

That was when she received the message from Commander Ross, to her surprise. It was an invitation to a meeting about some minor details in a recent treaty. A meeting in the Ishtari part of the station, of all places. Emily thought it was an odd choice of location for a diplomatic meeting, to say the least. However, it also intrigued her, as she had never been to the Ishtari gardens before and had heard it was quite beautiful. Emily considered it for a moment. Given the odd choice of location and the fact that the topic of the meeting was rather trivial, she suspected that Peter had other reasons for the meeting.

She had, of course, met him multiple times after their second encounter at the alliance negotiations. To her it seemed like Peter had started working as a diplomat full-time. Emily noticed that he didn’t really seem to feel at home working as a diplomat, but admittedly neither did she. He even seemed to be avoiding her after the signing of the alliance treaty, which she was actually quite grateful for. At least someone was scared off by her cold demeanor. Though she would never admit it, the invitation made her feel a little anxious. The circumstances under which they met were not ideal, and had left their mark, although she couldn’t really put the blame on the Commander.

In the end, Emily did decide to accept Commander Ross’ invitation. After all, as the sole Kudrioni diplomat on the station she had little choice in the matter, as any meeting with their allies could be of incredible importance. And so, keeping a quick pace, she set off towards the Ishtari gardens, through the long hallway of the Kingdom’s embassy and through some neutral spaces that belonged to no one nation. When she arrived, she saw that the rumors about the garden’s beauty hadn’t been lying. She also saw that she was alone, and had to wait a bit for Peter to arrive. Seems like she was there first.

The dog wiggled his tail excitedly when he and Peter reached the Ishtari gardens. The Undefeated were practical people, they didn’t waste time and energy on pretty things that served no real purpose. But even with that in mind Peter had to admit the place was beautiful and admire the craftsmanship and effort the strange women put into building it.

He was right on time for the meeting. Should he have come earlier? The thought did cross his mind, but he didn’t want to look too eager. Coming late would probably seem disrespectful and that was definitely not the impression he wanted to make. He was overthinking it, that’s what he usually did when he was nervous about something. Emily was already there, standing under a blossoming cherry tree, and, for once, she didn’t seem to be frowning as she admired the gardens.

Peter watched her for a moment and fortunately Bony’s quiet whining snapped him out of it before she could notice him staring at her. The dog was giving Peter his best puppy eyes. Damn animal. “Free.” Just one word and Bony darted away, chasing some poor colorful insects that were flying over the grass. Peter activated a small drone, a neat invention of a scientist who used to work on the Meeting Place long before he arrived. The drone headed after the dog, hitting the ground a few meters away from the animal, turning into a ball right before impact. Once Bony jumped after it, the thing flew up again and hovered above his head, teasing him for a moment before jolting towards a group of trees. The dog followed it, barking excitedly. A silly thing but at least Peter didn’t have to keep throwing balls for hours.

“Miss Kaldaz,” he bowed his head in her direction upon finally approaching her. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

As Emily waited for Commander Ross to arrive, she took the time to carefully examine the garden. While she had seen many things, especially since becoming her nation’s chief and only diplomat , she had never seen anything quite like it back on her home planet. Ever curious, many questions popped up in her mind. What were these pink trees? Were they native to fallen planet Earth, or were they created by the Ishtari? If so, why and how? She thought of many other such questions, so many in fact that she nearly forgot why she had come there in the first place.

She was snapped out of her thoughts as she spotted movement in the corner of her eye. It was a dog, chasing a strange contraption that seemed to bounce on the ground every now and then. When she turned around, she saw where the dog came from, as it would seem that Peter had arrived at their meeting. She folded her arms and looked at him disapprovingly as he approached. A diplomatic meeting was no place for a dog. Where did he even get a dog? Had the apes given the Undefeated a dog as well?

“Hello, Commander Ross,” she replied in a flat tone after Peter had spoken, “you can just call me Ambassador Kaldaz. I must say, this is quite a strange place for a meeting. You wanted to talk about one of our nations’ recent treaties, correct?” It was probably best to get down to business immediately.

Just as Peter expected, the moment Emily saw him, her relaxed expression swiftly turned into a frown. If he hadn't seen her act that way around everyone else as well, he'd think she hated him personally. But she just seemed perpetually angry and annoyed in general. Peter suspected there was more beneath it, something she was hiding, and she was just doing it to chase people away. Mainly because Emily didn't seem that way when he first met her. No, she was nervous and scared back then but despite that strange situation and the mortal danger they faced, she seemed way more composed being held at gunpoint by a bunch of strangers invading her ship than here in the relative safety of the station.

He wanted to smack himself for forgetting her title. Seriously, how stupid he was? He never had any problems addressing the officers by proper ranks but here at the Meeting Place every nation seemed to have a unique way of calling their representatives and Peter just wasn't able to remember them all. But he should have at least memorized hers when he invited her for a meeting. Some diplomat he was.

"My apologies, Ambassador Kaldaz, I meant no offense." He could add some excuses but she wouldn't appreciate them anyway. "It might be a strange place but I certainly needed a change of scenery and a bit of fresh air, so to speak, after sitting at the desk in my office for weeks. I imagined being the sole representative of your nation here, you'd appreciate taking a break as well.

And yes, there was an error on page four of the most recent treaty. We've already proposed a fixed version but I'm afraid it will have to be signed by the people in question again." It was some sort of a joint research proposal. The project was already ongoing and the paperwork wasn't that important at this point. Emily must have known that better than Peter which meant she was going to get even angrier upon realizing he invited her for no good reason.

As Commander Ross spoke, Emily began to feel a little sorry for him. Despite how it might seem from the outside, she was indeed capable of caring for others, although often in her own way. It was now clear to Emily, whether from how Peter forgot her title, or the fact that they were having a meeting in a garden, that international diplomacy really wasn’t his strong suit, which was something she could sympathize with. The fact that he had apparently thought about her well-being when he invited her made her think that maybe he wasn’t so bad.

She quickly pushed that feeling of pity away when Peter revealed that, in fact, the whole meeting was entirely unnecessary. She had already suspected this, of course, but Emily had been willing to hear him out. Now, she could feel the feelings of anger and frustration well up in her, but she kept them under control, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. She couldn’t risk insulting a representative from one of their closest allies, after all.

Emily stared at him in silence for some time, hoping he’d somehow realize that he’d been wasting her time. She didn’t count on it, though. “Well, Commander Ross,” her tone of voice somehow colder than it was before, “you should not plan entire meetings for small things like this. That would save us all a lot of time. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” Given that she was already there, she might as well try to make the most of her situation.

Peter expected her to scold him and still he winced upon hearing her tone. But she was right. "I'm well aware of that, Ambassador. I actually had another reason to invite you here but I didn't think you'd come if I shared it up front." No, Peter was quite sure she'd just wave him off or ignored him completely. Which she might still do. "Listen, I'm a straightforward man and I'm not very good with these diplomatic word dances everyone around here seems to love. So, I'll just say it as it is."

He paused to gather his thoughts and take a deep breath. "I noticed that you seem very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. I assume it's because of what happened when we first met, the whole 'incident', and I'd like to apologize for the role I played in it. And…" Peter sighed, looking down for a moment before raising his eyes back to her face again, "if my presence here is really making you feel uneasy, I can ask to be reassigned somewhere else. Gods know I'm not a very good diplomat anyway, so it might be for the best for everyone," he chuckled quietly.

Of course there had been another reason. There always was. Peter was right about one thing, though, and that was that Emily wouldn’t have showed up if he had mentioned it beforehand. At least he was honest. Emily considered just leaving, given that the meeting was essentially over, or at least that’s how she saw it, but she didn’t want the King to somehow find out and fire her for leaving early.

Filled with a cold anger, Emily wanted to call Peter an idiot. Tell him that he was right, that he should be reassigned somewhere else, preferably far away from her. Tell him that he’s terrible at his job, and that it was indeed better for everyone if he wasn’t there. But for some reason, she couldn’t do it. Maybe she was afraid of angering an allied representative and screwing up her job. Or maybe, it was the fact that, unlike many others, Peter actually seemed to care, at least enough to apologize for something that wasn’t technically even his fault.

Instead she rolled her eyes and simply said “I do not need your apology, Commander Ross. My thoughts on the ‘incident’ as you refer to it, as well as how I feel about your presence are none of your concern. Guardian Harlowe requested your presence at this station for some reason, however, and I recommend you listen to him.” That was about as subtle as she could be to tell him to stay, although she wasn’t quite sure why she said it.

Damn, this woman was infuriating. Peter had to stop himself from answering something snappy, since that would certainly not help improve the situation. Before he could think of something polite and diplomatic enough to say, a quiet whining sounded from behind him. He turned to see Bony Stark standing there with the toy drone in his mouth. Seriously, the stupid animal almost had an apologetic expression.

"Oh, no, what did you do? Drop!" The dog put the toy on the ground and obediently sat and waited for his human to fix it. Not that Peter knew how. He carefully scooped the mechanism off the ground, grimacing as he noticed it was covered in drool. It was broken, obviously, but Peter was no mechanic, there was no way he could repair it. "Bony, you just played yourself." Peter shook his head and sighed. "You know the lady who made this died six months ago and there's nobody around who knows how to fix things. Bad dog!" Crap, Harlowe was going to be pissed.

Thankful that Peter seemingly had nothing more to say, Emily turned aside from Commander Ross, ignoring him for the moment, not really sure what to do now. Instead, she once more looked at the strange pink trees in the distance, still a little angry that she’d come to the meeting for nothing. That was, until she heard whining, and Peter speaking again, although not to her.

The dog was back, and had managed to catch the thing it was running after, apparently breaking it. Emily considered it for a moment. Before becoming an ambassador, she had worked with small machines like this before, and she could probably fix it. Not out of the kindness of her heart, of course, but because she might as well make herself useful while she was there. Better than wasting time after being invited to a meeting that turned out to be pointless. “I could take a look at it, if you have some tools for me,” she offered the Commander.

Peter almost jumped up upon hearing Emily speak, he had assumed she got angry enough to just storm off without saying another word. Especially since now instead of something at least resembling diplomacy he was scolding a dog. Her offer was even more surprising. Didn’t she just complain that this whole ‘meeting’ was a waste of time? Peter assumed she would yell at him for a while or maybe give him a really cold glare before walking away and most likely filing a complaint about him with Guardian Harlowe. An offer to help a broken dog toy was… well, maybe if she suddenly kissed him, he’d be surprised more, but not by much.

“I…” He hesitated. What was he supposed to say? Did she really mean it or was she just mocking him? Why would she want to do that? She seemed to hate him. And it certainly wasn’t because she found Bony cute and adorable, Peter noticed how she frowned at the dog earlier. “We have a lab full of tools, we don’t even know what most of them do. There used to be a scientist here, a very smart and talented girl, that sadly died in a ship explosion before your people arrived here. And we haven’t found a suitable replacement yet. So it all just sits there, collecting dust. But I would never dare to ask you to do something like that. I’ve wasted enough of your time. Bony here will just have to play with a normal ball like a normal dog.”

Emily did not understand what Peter’s deal was. On her home planet, it was normal to offer one’s help for small things like this. It could mean the difference between life and death. Obviously, this was not such a serious situation, but Emily was deeply rooted in the friendlier aspects of Kudrioni culture, even if she disagreed with some of its more violent parts. Besides, it had been a very long time since she had been in a lab or worked with her hands, and she did not want to pass up the opportunity to do something she actually found interesting.

“Commander Ross,” she said authoritatively, “I had planned several hours for this ‘meeting’ in my schedule. We have been here for less than an hour. I am not offering this out of kindness, but because then I can do something with my time that is actually productive. Now, show me the way to this lab.”

Fixing a broken dog toy certainly didn’t seem like a ‘productive’ way of spending time for such a busy person as Emily. Surely she could fill her time with something more important. What could she be possibly after? Peter never really understood women but this one was like a whole nother level of illogical weirdness. Or maybe, a strange idea popped into his mind as he looked at her strained face, she was really tired of all the work and tinkering with a dog toy while pretending to be strengthening relationships between their nations seemed like a good way to relax for her? Peter remembered she was wearing a lab coat the first time they met, she must have been some sort of a scientist. Maybe this way she could take a break without actually admitting she needed one?

Or maybe it was just Peter’s wild imagination. After all, this woman could technically be considered an alien. He tried to keep his expression serious as he reached that conclusion, fighting to hold back a chuckle. “As you wish, Ambassador.”

Since the Kudrioni were now their allies, nobody really paid attention to Emily as Peter led her through the Undefeated section of the Meeting Place. The lab was a large room filled with various equipment, Peter wouldn’t dare to guess what most of it was for. He did say it sat there for six months collecting dust but it was merely a figure of speech, there wasn’t much dust to go around on a space station, the ever-present air filters took care of that.

Peter never really felt the need to explore this room, it always gave him an eerie, uneasy feeling. The girl who used to work here clearly expected to be back in a couple of days and a lot of her work still laid about, unfinished. Never to be completed. There were some notebooks with (at least to Peter) unintelligible scribbles, notes, and equations.

He put the broken mechanism down on an empty table in the middle of the room. “There should probably be everything necessary to fix it but I honestly have no idea where. Feel free to take a look around, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to make her nervous by staring at her and he also needed to take care of the dog who was patiently waiting at the door. Peter led him to Harlowe’s room and checked the animal had clean water and enough food in the bowls. Bony immediately jumped on Guardian’s bed, completely ignoring the soft mattress in the corner of the room where he was supposed to sleep. Knowing Harlowe allowed him to do that, Peter just rolled his eyes and left the room. Just a few minutes later he had been standing in front of the lab door again, curious about what Emily had been doing.

Emily silently followed Peter through the Undefeated part of the station, grateful that nobody seemed to care that she was there. She was starting to become a little unsure over whether this was a good idea. The Commander was right when he said that he had wasted enough of her time. Besides that, she felt like it was a little selfish of her to do something that she found interesting rather than doing her job, especially given how much work she still had to do today. No. She had told Peter that she was going to fix the drone, and by the gods she was going to do so.

As soon as Peter was gone, she let out a deep sigh, and let down her guard momentarily. Finally, she was alone for a bit. She didn’t really hate Peter, but the fact that he didn’t seem to take his job seriously, what with the whole fake meeting and all, greatly annoyed her. Knowing that the Commander could be back any minute, Emily collected herself so he wouldn’t see her in that state. She had a job to do, after all.

First order of business was to inspect the lab. If she didn’t know what tools she had to work with, she couldn’t fix anything, so she walked around looking at all the different tools and equipment. It all seemed to be fairly standard, though there was a great variety in the different scientific fields they belonged to. Commander Ross had mentioned that there was another scientist who had worked here, who had tragically died, and Emily found what must have been her research notes. She left them alone out of respect. She was cold, but not heartless.

Fortunately for her, the repairs didn’t take very long. Ignoring the dog’s saliva that was still on the toy, Emily looked at it closely, ran some diagnostics, and finally fixed the problem, in the span of a little over ten minutes. Emily almost began enjoying herself in the process, too. She saw that Peter was looking at her work through the lab door’s window, but she pretended not to notice. When the repairs were done, she headed back to the hallway and unceremoniously dropped the drone in Peter’s hands. “There, it is fixed now. Now that that is done, I suggest we put an end to this ‘meeting’, unless you have something else you wanted to discuss.”

Well, be damned, Peter was actually right about something. For the first time he saw Emily relaxed, smiling almost. She was enjoying this, even though she would never admit it, especially not to him. Maybe not even to herself. “Thank you, Ambassador, I really appreciate your help. I apologize for wasting your time, I’ll do my best to make sure it won’t happen again. And…” He hesitated, not sure whether he should continue. But she already didn’t like him and probably considered him incompetent and stupid. How much worse could it get? “There is nobody around here who would use this room, this all,” he waved his hand, pointing to the no doubt expensive equipment around them, “is just sitting here, useless. I’m not sure what kind of a lab you have available at the Kudrioni embassy but umm,... if you ever needed to use any of this, feel free to just drop by. I’ll add your identification to the security clearance list for this room.” Peter took a mental note to pack up Julianna’s notes and unfinished inventions first, just in case any of it was some super secret science project not even their allies should know about.

A little stunned, Emily didn’t really know what to say. It was kind of Peter to offer her to use the lab, despite how hostile she had been. A little too kind, in fact, and she looked at him with suspicion, trying to discern his intentions. Why would Commander Ross do this? She had tried her best to push him away, but it didn’t seem to work. Did he somehow know that she had missed her life before being sent to the Meeting Place? Emily quickly composed herself, unable to understand what just happened. The slightest hint of a smile appeared on her face before it quickly returned to Emily’s usual expression, afraid that the Commander might see. “I will see whether I will use the lab. Farewell, Commander Ross.” With those words, Emily simply left, because she didn’t want him to see her smirk.

Co-Write between Dog and Simga

Real Metal Industries (RMI), another juggernaut within the Ustonian Megacorp sphere, has sent over a representative to one of many buildings within Argus City for discussion of defense contracting. Interestingly enough, the RMI main HQ in Columbia is in Argus City - taking the agent a mere few minutes to travel from his office to the meeting place. Once arrived, the agent takes in the sleek-looking room and takes a sit down on the many tables surrounding an oval table. He waits for a few more guests to show up.

The Chancellor, unfortunately, could not attend this particular meeting, busy with other matters concerning a special project, in his stead was Vice-Chancellor Tigh, alongside him were a few military and government officials. Tigh and his cohorts push through the doors as they took their seats. “Thank you for taking the time for this meeting, I’m sure you’re quite busy at the moment, but we hopefully won’t take much of your time.”

“Well then - let’s get right to business. Our corporation heard that you needed a stable supply of industrial components for the military - along with a selection of light-armored vehicles for local provisional defense forces. Real Metal Industries would be very happy to provide you with such goods for sale,” the agent says with a smile.

“You’ve heard right.” Vice-Chancellor Tigh said. “The past few years have seen some…radical developments in the defense department, certain projects draining more resources than that can be spared to other parts of the military. As you’ve said, provisional defense forces have fallen behind and require a little boost so to speak.”

The agent hands over a yellow folder with the details of the contract inside - divulging every single piece of detail from costs, legal agreements, amount of parts, etc, etc. “Given that you have read the details before - this should be quite painless to sign. Once everything is checked and signed then we can deliver our goods by the end of this week.”
The Vice-Chancellor grabs the folder, giving one last quick look before nodding with a smile and signing the contract. “May this foster better relations between our worlds.”

The Many did not stand idle while the One expanded their military assets with inclusion of the hybrids, their district of the city was similar to a bee hive.

Hundreds of the Many moved around, fortifying their walls, closing off alleyways, cementing the roads and most importantly, building up the embassy. A small-ish building that sat atop a closed off Vault, surrounded on all but one side by houses, workshops etc.

Space was hard to get-by for the Many as their brothers, The One, would expand more and more everyday taking back the city from Immortalis.

At long last the embassy was built. A place where the other nations might join the Many in diplomacy. No longer the Many will be ignored, no longer they would be contempt with just being alive.

The Old One stood in front of the embassy and looked at the Many that stood ahead of him, all dressed in different manner of clothes or haircuts. Anything to make them less “One” and more “Many”.

“ Brothers! Rejoice! I have always dreamt that one day we will be different, the one day, the old days will return! Individuality must prevail!

May this be the first step towards freeing ourselves from the shackles of the One! ” said the Old One, shouting at his brothers. It was dangerous to talk like that when the One could hear as they could always decide it’s time to purge the tumor that the Many are but at the same time, these were the words which the Many needed to hear.

With those words said, the Old One turned around and walked inside the embassy. As he arrived at the communication room, he smiled. This was the first true step towards his dream and the ending of his nightmare turned real.

“ Greetings survivors of humanity! I am the Old One and I represent the Many. A subdivision of the One clones you have seen on the Meeting Place or during the WFR. While my brothers choose to share their every thought/memory and consider themselves in being one person, the Many choose individuality.

The Many and I have worked hard in the past weeks to build an embassy on our home planet and wish to invite dignitaries of all nations to join us here for better relationships or to simply learn from us.

A warning for those that come, our side of the Gateway has hundreds of EMP weapons surrounding it that were left by the Immortalis, the resident aliens of this planet. Neither the Many, nor the One have any way of stopping them.

If you wish to join us, please let us know and we will send a ship to meet you at the Meeting Place and they’ll bring you here or if your ships can handle the EMP, come and contact us.

We are not One but we are Many.

Thank you! ” said the Old One. His voice was different from the usual one that the others had, it was older and kinder. More akin to a grandparent’s voice than that of a hardened soldier.

---

“Sister-Captain Naysibis. Are you sure this is wise?”

“No, no I am not, Yayota. And yet someone needs to do something. You heard those broadcasts clear as day, clear as everyone else on this rust bucket. That’s why you’re here. Because someone needs to pull the Commonality’s head out of its ass and take the initiative. If we have a chance against those One freaks with these Many?”

“Then we cannot forgive ourselves for abandoning them to a Unity Without Self.” Interjected another voice. “You are clever, Yayota. We all trust you. The EMP shield will work.”

aaaand if it doesn’t we’ll only have to regret it for a few minutes until we suffocate, Nayris! Yayota thought to herself with bitter humor as she finished her fifth double-check of the ship’s systems. “All systems are green, Sister-Captain.”

Sister-Captain 72 Naysibis Forges Her Own Path With A Blade Of Flame stood at the bridge of a nearly hundred and seventy year old vessel, apparently downed during the Great Xenocide by planetary antiship defenses erected by the native aliens. Though it had suffered extensive damage on impact and over time, miraculously the vessel’s main structural integrity had not been compromised. Thus, the group of enterprising Ishtari who had descended upon it had been able to, after some time and effort, restore it to some semblance of working function. It was not anywhere near the modern vessels of the Commonality’s navy, or would it stir envy anywhere else.

But it was spaceworthy. And that was what mattered.

“Right. Everybody aboard, listen up. We’re about to make the jump through this Gate into the system of the One. If we survive - which I have full confidence we will - try to avoiding pointing guns at the locals unless they give you a damn good reason. You know as well as I why we’re here, and if we fight I’d far rather it be their fault than piss off the Commonality. Anyone wanting to back out, your last chance was when we left low orbit. Strap in. We’re going to low-power mode. Let’s hope the EMP hardening works. If it doesn’t, ‘least I don’t have to see some of your ugly mugs at the end of this. Mirrors are an awful lot less awkward anyway.”

The ship’s lights flickered and dimmed as the crew braced themselves for their potential deaths as the EMP swept over them. For several minutes in hung in the balance, a network of frayed and vermin-eaten wiring patched over by the careful ministrations of one woman and a team of like-minded assistants the only thing that stood between life and a grim death stranded in space.

And yet it held. A cheer went up amongst the crew as they began to restore full power to the ship, charting a direct course for the planet that lay ahead, and hopefully a meeting with the Many.

As soon as the EMP hit finished, a One frigate and two smaller kamikaze ships approached the Ishtari ship. One of the advantages of having their Gateway close to the planet was the speed at which the One could reply to any potential hostile ships.

" Unidentified vessel. This is the One. We haven’t received any records of your arrival from our brethren from the Meeting Place. Please state your business and let us know if any repairs are required to your ship.

We are more than happy to trade at an exquisite price. ” sent the One frigate captain, a Grant, to the yet-unknown vessel.

The One proved to be very knowledgeable at using whatever tech they could get their hands on and making work for the One. A broken ship could always be used by the One and if whoever decides to come into the One system without answering to any warnings of the EMP then their ships could be traded for safe passage back to their homeworlds.

“Negative. EMP shielding has held. We require no repairs.” Came the reply in thickly accented English. “This is the CCS Bohol. We are not an official delegation, but a group of volunteers from the Commonality of New Ishtar, responding to the broadcast from the Many. Requesting permission to land planetside and establish communications with their embassy staff.”

“ Greetings Bohol! We are pleased to see others being curious about us. We understand we’re more different than most.

The Many, as they like to call themselves, forgot something in their broadcast. They don’t have a spaceport and, unless your ships or yourselves, can survive the weather outside our dome....please follow One-Two-Four-Two, the ship next to yours and they’ll direct you towards a spaceport.

We will make sure the Many are notified they’ve received guests and they’ll come to collect you, unless you wish us to guide you to their side of the city ourselves. We are more than happy to keep you safe.
” the threat, not by the One but of their own city, was clear. While the One managed to almost fully exterminate the remnant machines from their side of the city, the Many couldn’t claim that and the road between the Many compound and the One controlled territory was not short.

A dry laugh came from the other end. “Different indeed. As are we, sir, as are we. We will wait for them to come retrieve us, and we thank you kindly for your hospitality. We’ll have to see about fixing that spaceport problem for them, won’t we?”

The Ishtari vessel followed those of the One without further interaction - barring that required for the docking procedures planetside. The Ishtari, for their part, were resolved to remain on their craft until such time as the representatives of the Many had presented themselves. Giving themselves over fully to a relatively unknown entity - especially one that… unnerved them as much as the One did, was not an idea they relished in the least.

“Everyone has suicide capsules on hand in case they try to take us, right?” Said Sister-Captain Naysibis, looking around to the sizable contingent that had elected to go with her. “Not that I expect we’ll need them, thank heaven, but just as a precaution…”

“And going armed to the teeth is part of that same precaution…?” Said another, looking at the captain with a faint smile.

“No, Nayris, that’s obviously just to look impressive. Now quiet down, we’re leaving soon. Keep the weapons unloaded for now, and if we’re asked to disarm we’ll return them to the ship.”

The assembled group was a ragtag assortment of Ishtari from all walks of life. Considering the mission’s unofficial nature, none of the active duty professional soldiers counted among them - but plenty, such as Sister-Captain Naysibis herself, had extensive prior experience in addition to the universal training all of them received.

“Any big words, Yayota? You were always dreaming about making first contact on your own.”

The engineer paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. Slowly, she grinned. “Fuck it. You only live once.”

The One ship guided them silently to the spaceport. To call it a spaceport was a very big word but still that would be the best word to be used to it. Multiple buildings were sewn together and huge holes were dug in the ceilings, allowing ships of multiple sizes to enter inside.

The inside itself looked, as many of the One buildings, as if you’d enter a different world. Long gone were the destroyed pieces of a long-lost civilization, gone was the always present smell of ash and stale air.

The One gathered around the Ishtari ship in full armor, surrounding it with a few hundred soldiers. If this was a well disguised attack, they’d be ready.

“ Ishtari captain or crew. Please exit the vessel peacefully. If we see any weapon, we will open fire and we assure you, we don’t have a problem if we die.

This is just a precaution, we hope you understand. ” the voices came out all at once then repeated only once but a Grant who walked right up the Ishtari ship. No armor, no weapon.

In turn, after a moment’s delay, Sister-Captain Naysibis exited the ship. No trace of weapon or armor could be seen on her person. She was instead clad in what appeared to be a worn down naval officer’s long coat, insignia replaced with colorful patches with writing in an unusual script in prominent black lettering. Her hands were raised over her head, though an easygoing smile on her face and her relaxed posture made it clear she held no concern - or if she did, that she hid it well. Behind her followed perhaps a half dozen more, and glimpses of more Ishtari on board could be seen in the ship’s open bay.

“Greetings, earthlings!” She called out cheerfully. “I come in peace! Take me to your leader!” She grinned wider, undeterred by the difficulty of pronouncing the language. “No weapons! No weapons or armor, see?”

As Naysibis came out of the ship, spears, bows and a few machine guns got pointed at her straight away, only for a few seconds before the all clear was given by the lead Grant.

In proper military fashion, the Grant stood at attention and nodded respectfully at Naysibis and with a short hand signal, informed her to stand at ease. Anyone, if they did even the most basic military training, would recognize the signal.

“ Earthlings, take me to your leader. Smart. You forgot about the fact that you’re supposed to be little and green or grey. Or the fact that neither of us looks like an earthling. Your companions and yourself, more so than us. ” the Grant’s grin matched Naysibis and with a small wink, they turned around and started walking slowly away from the ship.

“ Follow us, please. Your crew may stay here if they so wish and we’ll bring food and refreshments here or they can follow us to a canteen.

Our…brethren, the Many as they call themselves, will be in with us shortly. We’ve just received word they’ve made it half-way through the Gap.

If you choose to follow us, please stay close to us. We wouldn’t want you to get lost around here. ” said the Grant as they slowly walked away until they stopped shortly, turned to Naysibis and said :

“ If it will make you feel safe, you may bring something to defend yourselves with. ”

In front of them, the One brought forward meat from different animals, water and different juices of plants they’ve bought and cloned.

“I suppose if you really wanted to nitpick, we ought to have been little green men too.” Naysibis quipped, smirking, “But nothing like a little ice breaker to ease the tension, right?

More Ishtari disembarked, following Naysibis closely as she followed their hosts without an apparent care in the world. Those following had brought with them the weapons and body armor shed by Naysibis and the first to leave - though they took care to keep them unloaded and make that fact clear to the One soldiers that surrounded them. Some of them watched the One with the eyes of soldiers, analyzing them as potential enemies if things turned sour. And, they realized, many of the One were doing the same. Others looked around the building in open awe, taking in the sights that surrounded them and drinking in every ounce of fascinating architecture that they could.

Naysibis tapped the One she was following. “This… Gap. What is it, exactly? I assume there’s something dangerous here if you’re allowing foreign visitors to bring weapons off ship.” She frowned, “That said, thank you for that. It’s an alien feeling to many of us, going without one.”

The Grant turned their head ever so slightly and listened to Naysibis as she thanked them.

As Naysibis’s compliment reached the Grant’s ear, they said, with admiration and respect in their voice : “ We understand the feeling very well. We’ve been at war since the days of old Earth. Truly sorry for having to strip you of your weapons, better safe than sorry is needed sometimes ”. They made a small break and then continued :

“ You may call us, Grant if you wish to ask something. There are no other Grants in the room, easier for the others to know who they’re dealing with.

We have also haven’t caught your name and we are sorry for the lack of etiquette. These are trying times for the One and Many alike.

The Gap? It’s what the name implies to be honest. The Immortalis have left presents to any who would claim their city, as you might’ve noticed when your ship got EMPed as soon as it arrived.

These presents are deadly. Very deadly. If one is not prepared for them, one might die. It is one of the many reasons why we have not opened up an embassy on our planet. The Many decided to do so without asking for approval or even thinking it through completely but we allowed it which is why you haven’t been turned around when you arrived but we digress, sorry…

This district and many others have been cleared out almost completely during our exile but not all parts of the city are free of danger. The Many, in their effort to distance themselves from us and our protection have settled two districts away from our current position, roughly 2 hours away. This created the Gap. Part of a destroyed district which we haven’t yet cleared out and which the Many have been trying to for weeks already but with no success. ” answered the Grant, their voice was akin to a teacher’s voice while explaining to a pupil.

“I am Sister-Captain 72 Naysibis Forges Her Own Path With A Blade Of Flame.” She answered, looking at the man with an even expression as she weighed her responses. “Then this city is dangerous from automated weaponry still within it, then? Interesting. Very, very interesting.” She gestured to the Ishtari bringing up the rear. “We’re all military trained. Not all of us have extensive experience. But plenty of us have more than enough experience using these things. We can help neutralize whatever threats present themselves during the crossing.”

“Either way - I’m curious. You’ve been at war since the days of old earth, you say?” She folded her arms, “Well shit, you can’t just drop that little tidbit and expect me not to ask more. War against the city? War against each other? Was there something else living on the planet when you first arrived?”

The One just listened to the very, very long name of the Naysibis and shook their heads and laughed internally. They sure do have long names. They fantasized a medieval ball with someone having to announce every Ishtari coming in, that guy would have to be paid his weight in gold.

“ Please allow us to call you Naysibis. Your names are…different than expected but understandable considering how far we’ve strayed from Earth.

Neutralize the threats? That is a job for the Many as you are guests. They have yet to prove themselves and that is their task. We think of them like children not knowing what they want and as such, we treat them like that. As for the other parts of the city? That’s our duty. The One will inherit what the Immortalis have left behind. We have proven that even since we arrived on this planet.

We have been at war, yes. We don’t know how your…cloning process functions but ours provides us with a total recall of our memories. We remember our first words, the first time we made a step, the first time we killed and the first time we died.

We remember the wars on Earth. We’ve been in a few and then we left Earth with the colony ships, only to arrive here. Only for the wars to continue. Let us answer your questions in order.

Yes, the city was hostile to us from the beginning. Nano-swarms, robots and other mechanical wonders have been houding us at every step in the first days. War against each other? Yes to that as well, starvation makes monsters of all. We’ve seen mothers eating their young. Men raping women, children and elderly for the sake of two minutes of pleasure.

And ultimately, yes. When we arrived there was something alive on this planet, hope. Hope that humanity will not end with our ship. That hope died the moment we crashed and realized nothing can live in this tomb of a city. ” said the Grant, a dark expression on their face when they mentioned the war against each other.

As they walked, they finally reached the cantina. A big room filled with tables made with different bits and pieces of metal and stone.

“ Please, take a seat. Refreshments will be brought to everyone while we wait for the Many to arrive. They should be close to us. ” said Grant as they raised their voice, so that all the Ishtari could hear them.

Naysibis bit her tongue, remaining silent for a time as messages and thoughts flashed silently between the assembled Ishtari, those on the ship, and those within the Commonality who had tuned into what they assumed to be a doomed venture. Debate raged among them for a time. Whether or not to tell these One of their own experiences. Whether to hide them. To lie. Many still insisted they leave the planet immediately, others now regretted not joining them.

Many of them were struck by the similarities they held with these One clones. A soldier from earth, embarked upon one of the great arks that would save humanity only to meet horrific calamity that threatened the survival of everyone aboard, preserving some facsimile of human life through cloning technology.

She gritted her teeth.

“We do understand, actually.” Naysibis said at last. “We, the Ishtari, are mostly composed of clones of a single woman from old earth. We… we don’t remember what her name was. We forgot most of what there was about her to data corruption. But our Ark, too, suffered horribly. We committed atrocities against each other. We warred against each other. And it was only through cloning that we survived. Our progenitor was a woman from a region of old earth called the Philippines. She was an experienced soldier, who later became a well known geneticist. She worked for the corporation responsible for commissioning the ark, Xerico.” She looked to the One beside her with an expression of… if not friendliness, understanding. Strategically omitting details of their time spent in the void, she continued. “Our new world was a hellish place. A place of absolute nightmare. Of the first hundred to make planetfall, three returned alive. The world had an intelligent, and highly advanced, native species too. Our people have only known peace in recent times.” She sighed, “It was worth it in the end. We’ve achieved something none of the other nations seem to have. I think she’d be proud.”

After a moment, she smiled again. “And of course you can. You don’t think we use our full names in normal conversation do you? We’d never get anything useful done.”

The Grant listened closely to their story, their eyes locked with Naysibis’s eyes all the time she talked. Listening to the story and at times, nodding. A collective grasp covered the One, planet-wide when Naysibis mentioned their progenitor. The real identity of the person who they now all share the face.

“ Philippines, we remember them well. We’ve fought there ages ago. We suspected you looked similar to someone we knew and we now know for a fact who you are.

Let’s just say that James William Grant knew your progenitor. Coincidence or destiny, you may call it. What’s that information worth to you and your nation, it’s something we can discuss later, if that’s what you wish and with someone of…a diplomatic trade. ” said the Grant. Their voice was cautious, information was power in the past and even more power in the future.

As they finished their speech, they turned their head to the door farthest away from where they were sitting, where 6 of the Many arrived. To call them clones was wrong at this point. All of the Many were dressed differently, their hair color ranged between the original black to green. Tattoos covered their arms and one of them had letters in a forgotten language from Earth starting from his right cheek spreading all over his face.

Their movements were not synchronized, their eyes moving from a One to another scanning the room for threats seen or otherwise. While they were still “One” they were far from their brethren in everything they did. Fidgeting, hands on the triggers of their weapons and different movements that seemed “off” in comparison to the One.

The Many approached the Ishtari and the lead Grant, nodded to the Grant and made a small bow to Naysibis.

“ Welcome to the Circle of One. My chosen name is Jakob and there are George, Gilmar, William, Sergei and Jullian. ” said Jakob as soon as he finished his bow. As he mentioned the names of the others, he’d point at each of them in part and they’d respond with a grunt, bow or a simple nod.

The Grant stood up from their seat and nodded back to Jakob.

“ James. We are happy that your people haven’t died yet. Do let us know when you wish to cease with your folly and join us. We miss all of your dearly. ” the words themselves were calm and carefully chosen but the look in Grant’s eyes betrayed their anger and pity over the Many. A sentiment shared by all of the One.

“ Yeah, yeah. My companions and I will tell you this. No. The Many are happy now and if you wish to understand our happiness, you and all the others are welcome to join us.

Now, if the Ishtari captain is ready, please follow my crew. The way back is long and getting caught in the dark is never a good idea. ” said Jakob. His voice mimicking to perfection the lead Grant’s one.

Naysibis watched the two for a second, her head shifting subtly as she looked between each one. Her mouth parted slightly in a silent ‘ah…’ as she appraised them. The Ishtari were, already, ill-disposed to the One as a whole, and the dismissive treatment of those who, at least on first impressions, seemed to be much like the Ishtari themselves did little to improve the Commonality’s viewpoint of them.

And then there was this matter of these One, allegedly, knowing the identity of Tiamat herself. Allegedly contemporaries of her. The exact relationship unknown - but perhaps these Many would be more forthcoming. The Commonality was far more inclined to lend aid to them than to the One.

“Yes, indeed…” she said, lips pursed as she cast a final disapproving glance towards the Grant that had accompanied them. Turning to Jakob, she nodded. “My companions and I are military trained and experienced. We can help during this crossing. Either way, let us be off. I have just learned that we have… much more to discuss than any of us imagined. But it can wait until we’re within your territory.”

Jakob nodded to Naysibis, waved the Grant goodbye and took off. The others followed close by, making jokes and occasionally training-punch each other. At times, some made small talk with the Ishtari that were willing to converse with them.
As soon as they left the starport, the sights changed. The One were walking down the streets with diverse materials, some repairing the buildings that surrounded them, others in deep conversation between each other. Jokes were flung around that would make a priest blush between the Williams or Jamess on the street.

Jakob and the group kept silent upon approaching any wandering group of One, just in case. A precaution that didn’t seem to matter at all for the One as they didn’t care much, overall, about the Many’s internal business.

As they approached a massive wall that blocked off a gang between what probably were two skyscrapers, Jakob and his group stopped.

“ Alright, everyone knows the drill. Check your corners, stay close by and if you feel the ground shaking beneath your feet…jump away or say your prayers.

Captain. Naysibis, any help you and your companions can provide is more than welcome but please, don’t interfere if not asked or if you are not attacked directly. It was our duty to secure the Gap and we have failed it. Let us deal with any issues that might appear but, in the rare case, we do need help. Please feel free to ask questions. ” Jakob said.

If the One doesn’t want to acknowledge the Many as a real thing because they’re not playing by their rules, fine. They will play by their rules. They will pass any test the One might put them to. Anything that’s needed will be done in the hope that one day, everyone from the One will understand the Many’s point of view.

Naysibis, and the numerous Ishtari following her, nodded in tacit acknowledgement of his words. At a silent signal, they distributed weapons amongst themselves, each woman loading and readying her weapon with practiced ease. The Many were welcome to prove themselves - but the training and culture of the Ishtari did not allow them to do otherwise. They would avoid combat unless directly threatened - but in a hostile environment such as this they would spare no precaution.

Naysibis looked at the man, frowning. “As you say, we won’t interfere - but give us a quick rundown of the threat in this city. I won’t be losing any of my people to a threat we could have neutralized if we’d known about it in advance.” She jogged up beside him, internally remarking at how easy it was to do on this world. The gravity on New Ishtar was much higher than that of earth, and the Ishtari had developed dense muscle mass to compensate, likewise growing to be shorter than they would otherwise have. Here, on this world without the heavy gravity of New Ishtar, she felt light as a feather, and strong as an ox. Walking alongside Jakob now, she turned to him and spoke. “How long?” Before he could reply, she continued. “How long until we’re there? We’ve learned some damn interesting information, and since you lot are - thankfully - individuals, we’d like to know who’s best to discuss it with. It concerns old Earth.”

Jakob’s group watched silently as the Ishtari group readied themselves for danger with military efficiency. If they’re words might’ve been called lies before, this proved for sure that they were indeed soldiers.

“ I’d say there are 3 or 4 things you need to worry about in the Gap. Classified by danger:

1. We’ve got the auto-turrets as the least dangerous. Their weaponry can cut through armor very fast and unless any of you carries grenades, they can’t be disabled. All that sounds dangerous but they’re imobile and we know where they are. As long as we don’t stray from the path and you follow our instructions, they’re not dangerous.

2. Flyers. Think of them like dog sized ticks. They can fly at moderate speeds and they aren’t armed in a traditional sense but they explode when killed. Their armor can be pierced by our spears, so, no problem in that sense but if one gets onto you…then they become problematic. They latch your body and fills it with whatever makes them explode in the first place, making you the bomb. Recommended tactic is to shoot or take them out before they get on you and if they do, kill the “host”. For whatever reason, their explosives won’t work on dead bodies.

3. Nano-swarms. They can strip you of your flesh in a matter of seconds. Worst part? You can barely see them. Think of it like fighting grains of dust. You can’t shoot them, you can’t stab them. Outrun them or blow them up. Those are the two solutions we’ve found in dealing with them.

And 4…if any of you believe in any Gods or so, pray that we don’t meet those. Hogs. They appear from underground and they’re nigh indestructible. We’ve tried shooting them, blowing them up, stabbing…whatever. Their armor is impenetrable by any means we’ve tried until now. As far as we’re aware, we’ve only seen….6 of these robots since we arrived on the planet. Every time we encountered one they killed thousands of the One before it went underground again.

As for your other question, Naysibis, if we encounter no issues…we’ll be at base camp in about 35 minutes. Give or take. ” explained Jakob. His voice alternating from a drill sergeant’s voice to full on fear at the mention of the Hogs then turned again back to normal at the end of the discussion.

A brief nod ensued as the Ishtari silently relayed the information among themselves. Many of them redoubled their efforts on monitoring the surrounding area for threats, walking with their rifles at the ready, watching carefully for any sign of danger.

“Right. Flesh eating swarms you can’t see.” She said, “Well. Just like home then, little more mechanical is all. We have some grenades - but our heavier weapons were left on the ship.” She paused for a second, “We assumed your counterparts wouldn’t much like us walking into their planet in power armor carrying heavy machine guns.”

The trip passed uneventfully. The Ishtari, unused to being in such unfamiliar surroundings, twitched at every possible threat that caught their eye or made a sound. Naysibis didn’t relax her grip until safely within the part of the city the Many had claimed for themselves.

As soon as they stepped inside the Many compound, cheers were heard. Some of the soldiers approached and relieved the group of their weapons, offered them refreshments and quick snacks.

The Many were an odd bunch group. All types of clothes, new tattoos, fresh scars or simply new haircuts could be seen almost everywhere one would look. The architecture of the buildings they lived in was the same as the One's. Even if built by themselves instead of the Immortalis, nothing truly changed from that point of view.

The embassy was the only building that stood out like a sore thumb. The colors were different, the materials used were of different types. It was as if they tried to replicate the Meeting Place's unique architecture in a small scale.

She walked over to the leader of the Many, extending a hand. “Right. Want a do-over on that, now we’re out of the shark tank?”

Jacob took her hand and shook it but then continued to shake his head." Not a shark tank. The One are just misguided. They aren't wrong but they aren't right...Ask anyone here. Some might have a different opinion but that's the general consensus.
Anyways, I am not the leader here. Merel just volunteered to bring your delegation here.
Our leader. He's watching us from up top. " as he finished the sentence, he pointed upwards to a small figure standing atop a tower. In its golden age, the tower could've been at least 200 meters tall but now, only parts of it stood but enough to provide a perfect vantage point over the district and parts of the outer city.

As Jakob pointed up, the figure waved and made signals with it's spear.

" Captain Naysibis, if you wish to join our leader. Please climb up. Surely someone trained as you are shouldn't have a problem with a small climb. As for your women, they're more than welcome to mingle. " said Jakob after replying with his own signal to the figure above with just a bit of amusement in his voice. A challenge was cast, a challenge had to be answered and if they are who they resemble they were, they’ll take the challenge.

“In this gravity?” Naysibis asked, feigning insult. She smirked. “Back home the gravity is twice as heavy. A child could climb it here.” Passing off her rifle to another Ishtari, she cracked her knuckles, walking up to the tower in question. With a jaunty wave to the figure at the top of it, she grabbed onto the first of its handholds and hoisted herself up. Compared to training courses on New Ishtar, it felt almost like cheating - like someone was pulling on a rope from the top of the tower to help her along. She made far better progress than she expected she would have - though at times she nearly fell as her weight caused handholds to shift or break loose. She jumped from handhold to handhold, monkeying her way up the tower with a speed that surprised her. The cheers of a few of the Ishtari who had stayed to watch wafted up to her, accompanied by a few lurid comments from certain members of the group.

At last, however, she reached the top, pulling herself up beside the figure who’d gestured to her before.

“‘Sup?”

The Old One watched in silence as Naysibis climbed the tower with ease, even if she made a few blunders. The military training was obvious. Conditional training. You name it, these people had it.

Finally Naysibis reached the top and the Old One turned to her, eyes scanning her body for anything that might potentially be used as a weapon.
The Old One looked, well, old. At least 15 years older than the rest of the clones, signs of age were obvious on his face but the look in his eyes betrayed something else. Wisdom. The type that comes with age. His clothes, in comparison to the Many or the One, were as well different. Leather pants and some very old boots were all he wore. His bare chest revealed a great number of scars, more than any of the other clones covered his whole body. Only to be more defined by his muscles and pecs.

He put his spear on the ground, next to him, and gestured to Naysibis to look towards the horizon.

“ Take a look and let me know what you see. Do you see any signs that someone lived here for the past 300 years? Anything that might slightly incline that we’re not living in a tomb? ” his voice was rough, like he wasn’t used to talking at length and if one would be inquisitive enough, might notice that the voice was not the same as the one from the broadcast…even if very similar.

“The city?” Naysibis asked, frowning, and turning to follow his hand. “Beyond your compound, beyond where we landed? No.” She looked out to the city, focusing on individual points of interest. “I see decay. It’s a ruin. I don’t know how many skeletons are out there - human or otherwise - but I shudder to think what the number could be.” She looked some more, her eyes passing over crumbling ruins, collapsed skyscrapers, piles of rubble and detritus. “I see smoke from fighting. Whether its your people or the One, I can’t tell.” She fell silent, listening to the distant sounds carried by the constant winds. “I can hear combat for sure. Gunfire.” She turned to him, “Yet you’re carrying a spear, and wearing leather. You don’t look like the others. I don’t mean… age. You… something about you. You carry yourself differently.”

“ You are correct. There isn’t anything here. Skeletons? I can tell you for sure. Over 10 billion. Mine or the One? That’s bullshit. One…Many…in the end it doesn’t matter what you are. You die the exact same. The One proved it over 10 billion times. There is no difference between them. The ones below chose me as their leader because I was the first they had knowledge of that rejected the One.

They call me the Old One. My age is irrelevant. I no longer look like I did a long time ago and I no longer think as I once did.

Spear, leather. That’s how I learned how to hunt. That’s how I was taught by the Circle to survive. Back home, I thought I could survive anywhere in the world. Who knew it wasn’t only about that world? Sure, the rules of engagement are different when you can’t kill anything but one adapts.

You’re saying I carry myself differently than the others? What makes you say that, Althea-lookalike? The fact that I stopped caring about whatever happens with the ones below a long time ago? Or maybe it is the fact that I’m just bored. I have seen every part of this planet that is livable to man. ” the Old One talked and talked, never stopping for breath and almost never taking his eyes off the horizon. The one time he did look to Naysibis in all his speech was when he called her a lookalike, the look in his eyes betrayed the rage boiling underneath.

Naysibis looked at him curiously. Though her eyes were hidden, her lips were pursed tightly and she watched him in silence for several moments, weighing her words before she spoke. “So that was her name, then?” She said, watching him carefully. “Althea… heh, not what I would have expected.”

The Commonality exploded into a furor within her mind now. Historians screamed at her to ask everything she could about their progenitor. Artists begged to know what she looked like on earth. Others wanted to know who this man was - why he spoke so strangely compared to all those who shared his face. Naysibis remembered the uproar when they had made contact with the Zetans. While this did not exceed it - it was certainly greater than anything she could remember before their arrival.

“Forgive me.” she murmured, after a moment. Her words came confused, uncertain. “I don’t know much about you or the One. Heaven, this isn’t what I’d imagined when I touched down on this rock.” She suppressed a shudder at the rage she saw in his eyes. “You remind me of some of our own elders. The same tiredness. Just how old are you?”

After a moment, she added. “And… so… you knew our progenitor, then?”

The Old One just looked at Naysibis, her color draining from her face for a second when he mentioned Althea.

“ I see you didn’t know who’s face you’re using. Albeit a bit different than the original. Take your time…

I can imagine you didn’t expect this. How old am I? Does it even matter? Let’s just say I’ve plbeen here for a while and I can tell you for sure. This tiredness that comes with age? All it means is that we’ve seen the worst in humankind and not only…

Progenitor? That’s what you call her? Her name is or was…depending on how you see yourself…Althea Reyes. She was a very close friend of mine. There’s a reason why the ones below allowed you to meet me and why they asked you to climb this tower. They knew who you are. I’m assuming that the One wished to barter for the information? ”

“I- yes. We’re clones. Of her. She cloned herself. She needed soldiers to figh- no I mean, the population dropped and there was almost nobody left an-” Naysibis pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, screwing her eyes shut as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She’d been ready for nearly anything on this planet. Combat. Warfare. Danger of any kind. New and exciting discoveries.

But this? This was far beyond her.

Ask him his name.

Naysibis barely noticed the voice at first amidst the tumult of the Commonality’s outcry. Billions of voices called to her, demanding myriad things she had no way to grant.

Ask him his name. The voice was louder, more insistent now. And after a moment, Naysibis realized its signature in the Commonality was no less than one of the Sages assigned to the Meeting Place - Sachiko. Frequently tuned into the Commonality, she had seized upon the furor, and taken charge in a way unlike what many knew of her.

“Y-yes.” She said, after some silence. “Yes, they wanted to barter for the information. Our ship. Our Ark. It met… horrible catastrophe. I- I’m not the best person to tell you about it. Our Sages, they know it better than I. Many of them know it by heart.” She struggled to remain calm now. “We lost so much. We forgot so much. We’ve tried to find her name for centuries. And here I am, sitting next to someone who knows about her on Earth itself.” She looked up at him again, following the instructions of the Sage. “What’s your name? Are you… actually… from Earth?”

The Old One just watched the agony Naysibis was in. Clearly it wasn’t what she expected when she came to meet the Many. Almost as if she had a panic attack. These clones weren’t like the real Althea…not like her but like her at the same time.

“ They’re still doing what I’d do. They haven’t changed a bit. They’re so stuck in their ways…never changing. Never evolving into someone new….

Your ark met horrible catastrophe? Tell me about it…tell me how she died and where she is buried. If that’s a tradition your people still have. I’d like to pay my respects.

My name? James William Grant but that might be the answer of any of the ones below. Yes, I am from Earth. Same as any of those below. ” he then took a deep breath and let out a laugh. A deep laugh from within.

He turned and looked at Naysibis again, a hand on her shoulder.

“ Just ask me what you want, Xerox. ” his voice was now stronger. Hard as steel.

Naysibis’ reaction was initially one of confusion at the term. Much of the Commonality, likewise, had no idea what the word meant. A few Sages, primarily, did recognize it. Understanding snaked its way back to Naysibis after a few seconds, and she visibly winced after its meaning had sunk in.

“We… didn’t want it.” She murmured, almost to herself, then, more forcefully. “She… we, didn’t do it because we wanted to. We did it to survive. You landed on this desolate shithole of a planet. You gonna tell me your story was any different? We were trapped somewhere. No, no, we were trapped Nowhere. Maybe it was… hell, maybe it was Hell as you thought of it on earth. We call it the Void.” She looked at him. “When our ark crossed through the Gateway, it didn’t emerge immediately in its target system. Instead, it was trapped in that bubble of non-existence for something like five hundred and seventy years, by our count. The ship was designed as a generation ship for some reason - and good thing too. Without those resources we wouldn’t have survived. We assumed the same thing had happened to everyone else. That we were all that was left of humanity. So, naturally, we did whatever it took to survive. We fought horrific things there. The archives are shattered from corruption and age. We forgot so much.”

She was silent for a moment, before continuing. “As far as we’ve been able to piece together - we think Tiam- Althea, was killed in action about two centuries in. We, her descendents, eventually pacified the ship. There are other clones, but we make up the vast majority. Something about her DNA being uniquely stable during all of the mutations we suffered.” Naysibis gestured to the bonelike growths covering her face, and to her body as a whole.

“The reason we came here - unofficially, the Commonality is… unnerved by the One - was because we heard your broadcast, and the plight of a people of clones trying to distinguish themselves as individuals stirred something in us. We do not call ourselves One. We may share her face and her body - but in truth we are her descendents, not her copies.”

Another pause.

“There is a memorial to her on New Ishtar, but the world is hazardous for those unlike us. Of the first hundred to set foot on it after we were expelled from the Void, three returned alive - and one of those on the brink of death. The atmosphere is toxic. Parasites fill the air. The planet is a death world if you’ve not adapted to it. You’re welcome to visit - but it’d be in a hazard suit, or you’d die. Or…” Naysibis paused, thinking. “You can hold on to her memory. Maybe she is dead. Some of us think she’s not - that she’s still, somehow, alive. But… what matters most is that she accomplished something I don’t think many people could have ever dreamed of. She helped pave the way to create… she helped create a damn near utopia. It’s thanks to her that the ship’s crew survived one way or another. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe not. I don’t rightly fuckin’ know. Maybe we never will.”

She fell silent, looking down at her hands with a newfound appreciation. Softly, she chuckled to herself as she waited for a reply from the Old On- from James William Grant. “Heh. Althea Reyes. Yayota you mythic bitch, you won the bet. Fuck.”

James listened closely to Naysibis as he did before, clearly enjoying the effect of his revelations to her and probably others who might’ve heard the conversation.

“ Boo. Hoo. You did not want to be clones? Guess what? I didn’t either. The Many didn’t either. No one wants to be clone. Not truly. If you’re still a bit of Althea, you’ll know what I mean. You can always change what you are. If you want to share sob stories, go and speak with the One. They enjoy retelling the stories of times long past.

And if you come to me with these sob stories and expect me to be sad for you? Then better throw yourself off the tower now before I do it, Xerox. ” his voice went up, his anger being briefly released.

Only for it to be subdued almost instantly when he heard about Althea’s death. True death.

“She’s dead? Really? C’mon. Althea’s smarter than that. She couldn’t have created a whole race of clones from scratch and then allowed herself to be killed by space-demons.

If there’s someone who’s going to kill her is me for not getting me a place of her ark in time. She’d always get so stuck in her work. Always focusing, always getting distracted and then what happens? She goes on a different continent and leaves without me? ” sadness crept in his voice only to again be replaced by his steely-voice.

“ If you wish to help the Many, go ahead and help them. They’ll believe you if you say that I agreed with it. If they want to go off world, take them away as well. You can do whatever you please with them. More will appear…they always do. They all want to be different, thinking that’s the way forward. The way to be different from the original as they’re all individuals…

As for the One? Their new implants make them think they’re better than most and they are…in some ways, I’ll give them that but someday they’ll realize their individuality, their unity or whatever they want to call it, it's just bullshit. All trying to copy the original, thinking they are the same.

I look at them both and you know what I see? Same thing I see in you. Xerox copies. Trying to be different from the original while not being different at all. The copy of a copy of a copy…the infinite cycle of cloning. ”

There was no reply for a time. Naysibis watched him silently, her expression totally blank as she processed the shock of the meeting.

Then, without a sound, she slapped him across the face.

“Fuck you, shit for brains.” She snarled. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. If you want so badly to be so different? Jump off the fucking tower. Or order your bunch of clones to do the same. Hell, drag me with you. Put something more than words into it if you hate it so much.” She shook her head. “Heaven above. I had higher hopes for this. Say the word, fuckface. Say it and I’ll leave. I’ll let you stay here and pity-wank yourself dry until this planet drops into its star thinking about a woman who’s been dead for centuries.”

James saw the hit coming and just waited for it. Waited for true rage to wash over Naysibis for all the niceness of diplomacy to go over and...to confirm if there's was anything left of Althea inside her clones.

He watched her for about a minute then laughed and slowly clapped.

"That's better. Finally. No more bullshit. No more niceness for the sake of diplomacy. I was wondering how long it would take until you'd lose it. Not long by the looks of it.

You're strong I'll give you that but you're favoring your right side too much. Saw the hit coming from a mile away. Try to mask it. Look somewhere else than where you want to hit, change your body position accordingly. You would've been dead in a real fight and you know it. Not because of the fighting skill but because you let your anger out.

Anyways...a slap? Althea would've punched, then probably try to throw me from the tower. If all of your race are like you, then, you're not like Althea. Still copying her face, tho'. Pretty sure she devised a way against that. That woman always had failsafes to her failsafes. "

“So what?” Naysibis said, frowning at him. “The fuck do you want? You want her back? Sorry, pal. My magic genie just ran out of wishes. Maybe she’s alive, somewhere. I don’t know. None of us do.” She sighed, looking away from him in disgust. “I was hoping I’d get to learn more about her when I came here, after what I learned from the One. I was hoping I’d get to hear stories about her life on earth. To know more about the woman whose face we’ve all got. And what do I find?” She looked back at the Old One. “An old man living in the past. Little better than those ECU fucks. He can’t let go of what’s gone. He was hoping for some ghost to rise up and give him what he can’t have.”

Naysibis stood, shaking her head. “If this is all you have to offer, I’ll let you stay here until you rot. From what you describe of her? I think she’d be disgusted with what you’ve become. Shit, maybe you’d deserve getting thrown off this tower.” She looked him up and down. “We came here to try and start a friendship with what we thought were kindred spirits. Give me one good reason not to leave you and them here to rot to nothing but dust.”

" Calm down before I make you calm down. I wanted to prove a point and I did. Feelings are non consequential now.

All the ones you'll meet down there will act like me when things go to shit. Althea’s clones, the Ishtari, you, don't. You're not the same as the original which means that maybe, maybe, you'll be able to teach those below to be different as well.

The implants they use make them the same as the original in thinking and memories and while the total recall it provides can be useful, the other parts not so much.

You want stories about Althea? In my first few years on this planet I wrote a diary. Stories about my life, hers and Earth. Everything I remembered of it….Long before I found the cloning machine. I can give you that...I can recite it by heart. You'll find a lot of information about her there. Just keep in mind, those were the memories of a man who thought he would die. "

Naysibis sat back down beside him, watching him silently for a time. After a moment, her composure broke, and she shook her head laughing. “Tch, what a piece of shit you are, James William Grant. I can only hope you weren’t like this back on earth, or I’d be disappointed in her.” She nodded back in the direction they had come from. “You think you can get my people further passage here? We’ve got heavy weapons and tools on board - only really usable by us unfortunately - that we could use to help you clear space… if not a spaceport, a secure landing area. The Commonality would like to help your Many, if we can. We aren’t sure if we’ll be able to, but we’ll give it a try.”

“ Finally. You loosened up a bit. Old age does wonders to a man. If your people somehow managed to extend human life, then…you’ll see how it is after a few hundred years.

If I think I can do that? It’s already done. The fact that you’re standing here and I haven’t thrown you off the tower for hitting me...is proof enough. The Many will accept any assistance they will get, you’ve got my blessing but…and this is an important but no help has to be provided that will make them clash with the One. They’ve got to sort out their differences on their own. Think of them like children, if the adults intervene…will they ever learn?

James took a breath, took his spear and jumped off the tower. He turned midway towards the tower and flashed a grin to Naysibis then just ~10 meters above the ground he pressed a small button on the side of the spear and the head of the spear flew away hitting the tower. A very thin piece of string, similar to metal, extended from the head of the spear to the lower metal part of it. He vaulted a bit in the air and touched the ground a few seconds later.

Pointing towards Naysibis, James waved his spear and shouted :

“ There’s no such thing as unusable technology. Anything can be adapted! Come down! Let’s get this show on the road! ”

“Eh, ‘bout a hundred and forty three if you wanna use earth years as a measurement.” She shot back at him, “Ol’ Scheherazade’s over 350, memory serves. She got into rum and collecting swords. I for one pray I end up at least a bit less… froofy than her.”

A signal went out to the Ishtari on board the ship within One territory, and preparations began immediately for the offloading of equipment and power armor. Though not intended for such a task, the ship’s crew had brought a complement of machinery and tools with them in case they needed to make repairs, or any other potential needs. All they would need would be permission from the One, and from the Many, and the Ishtari would bring in their equipment to clear a small part of the city and erect a primitive spaceport within.

Naysibis watched the Old One as he revealed the secret in his spear, smiling and shaking her head. After a moment, she muttered to herself. “Y’know what, not what I was expecting at all.”

Collab between @Sigma and @Dog

Columbia
Calvard Province
City of Neo Angeles
Greed and ambition are two traits that fuel Ustonian Megacorps, for their thirst for ever-increasing profits and power can never be satisfied - they always want more and more. Anything that presents a threat to these goals will be stomped upon with extreme prejudice. The call for better Union representation and creation greatly threatens Ustonian corporate profit margins in Neo Angeles. No matter what the Megacorp, unionized labor is not a friend to Ustonian Megacorps. Luckily for the corpos, Neo Angeles is home to many politicians willing to work with corporate interests….

“Mayor Dwight Grant, It's good to meet you! My name is Tyler,” says a sleazy man properly dressed in a blue suit and tie. The man sits down on a chair, taking a quick look at Grant’s office before focusing his attention on the mayor.

“From the last time we met, General Business Machines made a very generous donation to your city’s charity fund for orphans - among other things. Of course, I am here again on the behalf of G.B.M to ask about the upcoming bill that is to be voted upon,” Tyler hands over a yellow folder.

In that yellow folder was Bill-41A - legislation filled with pages of legal jargon and terms. If one were to read it in its full and comb its finer details then the bill would effectively limit the abilities of Unions to organize and represent. Likewise, it presented city tax cuts to corporations and limited a few key rights for workers.

“We would like to ask you to support the bill. How does that sound, Mr. Grant?” Tyler folds his arms and waits for an answer.
The Mayor took the folder, giving the bill a cursory look, a worried expression forming. ‘While I am thankful for G.B.M’s donations….this bill seems a bit…risky.” Dwight said. “Election year is coming up…what if this leaks to the public? It’ll look very…problematic for the both of us.”

“We could always bankroll your election, provided by yours truly. After all, almost all the non-incumbents are not as wealthy as us. Support us and we’ll be more than happy to support your political endeavors with plenty of financial backing through our third channels,” Tyler notes.

The proposition was quite…promising, and could very well guarantee quite the political career, but at the same time, this felt like a trap, that may sink the mayor. Despite his doubts, his ambitious side got the better of them, and despite all the warning signs, took the offer. “Very well, support me and we can guarantee a fruitful partnership, and we, of course, keep this little chat between us, yes?”

“My lips are sealed, Mr. Grant. Happy doing business with you,” Tyler extends a hand, offering a handshake.

Dwight gripped Tyler's hand, as they both shook hands. “And to you.” He said with a smirk.

Telescopes and Targeting Sights

Veii, Capital Planet of the Republic of San Vesta
Antevestoran System

---

Outstanding. Simply incredible. Elias fussed over the fine dials of his telescope as he brought into focus a fireworks display the likes of which he had never laid eyes on in his entire life. He shifted where he stood as he watched the most beautiful blossoms of red and orange bloom to life with regularity. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the odd blues and golds punctuated the display taking place above the largest city of the Republic’s moon, Salernum, and strained to follow the tiny streaks of orange and gold crisscrossing the show as the fireworks streaked to their beautiful conclusions.

“Tessa! Tessa come here! You’ve got to see this… It’s… We’ll I can’t describe it, just bring Sebastian too!” Elias called out as he continued to soak in the awe-inspiring presentation taking place silently above Veii.

He heard the rushed footsteps of his siblings first, followed by the soft voice of his younger brother Sebastian as Tessa dragged him from his slumber for one of his older brother's strange interests once again. He smiled to himself as Tessa insisted that whatever it was, Sebastian would enjoy it just like every other time she dragged him out of bed on Elias’ behalf and stepped back from the telescope as he smiled at them both.

With a finger pointed toward the moon he ushered Sebastian to the eyepiece of the telescope, “Look look, Aquileia must be celebrating! They elected a new governor recently so maybe it’s for that…” his younger brother shrugged at the thought of something so boring as politics as he lowered his face to the telescope, “Maybe.” Elias said again, all too aware that Sebastian was only a ten-year-old, and things like elections held no sway or importance in his mind. He shifted his focus to Tessa as Sebastian began to make interested “Oohs” and “Ahs” from where he leaned into the eyepiece as he watched the spectacle.

Tessa’s gaze was up toward the moon, her lips were drawn about her face in a tight frown, and, for a moment, Elias felt he could see her face in far better detail than he should have been able to at night. He watched all around him as stark shadows stretched across their backyard, an eerie blue light seeming to sprout from nothing as he witnessed daylight return to Veii nine hours early.

His mind struggled to comprehend what was happening, though only a fraction of a second after it began the light receded and darkness returned to the night once more. His ruminations on the matter were cut short as Sebastian began to ask why the telescope had gone dark.

Elias turned from Tessa, her stare still held firmly to the moon above them in silence, and moved his brother from the telescope and peered through the lens. He stared in disbelief at the massive cloud that had taken the place of Salernum’s capital city, unsure of what had happened he pulled himself away from the telescope with a shaky smile.

“Maybe they made one of the fireworks with a bit too much bang.” he joked as he turned to Sebastian and noticed with horrifying clarity the vacant look in the boy's eyes as if his brother was simply seeing straight through him.

“Sebastian?” he asked as he turned to Tessa for help, only to notice his sister too, staring vacantly into nothing as tears streamed down her cheeks, “Tessa?” he asked as his sister turned in the direction of his voice.

---

Salernum, First Moon of the planet Veii
Republic of San Vesta
Antevestoran System

---

This had to have been some bad going-away joke, some last-second "Scare the LT shitless before he rotates out.” sort of extravagant prank. Buzzing him into work to join his Company in the field on his last week on Salernum was just straight cruel. His field fatigues were packed away and awaiting shipment up to the orbital stations for his move back to Veii, and he didn’t have nearly enough snacks or dip stuffed into his pockets to last him a full weekend in the field with his tankers.

Yet here he was, standing on the side of some godforsaken backroad on the outskirts of Aquileia waiting for the inevitable text message “Haha, got you good Sir!” or “Joking joking, go back to the bars!” or any other number of lighthearted messages that would send him angrily packing back to the blonde he’d been chatting up Downtown just thirty minutes before.

Instead of a text message, he turned to the rumbling of tank tracks and several dozen sets of headlights turning onto the road, the feeling of a joke all but disappearing from his mind as he became very suddenly sober.

A number of “Goliath” tanks rolled by followed by a couple of the Companies “Ample” armored command vehicles before his own tank, 2-1, or more affectionately named by her crew “Cruel Intentions” came to a rolling stop in front of him. He scrambled up the side of the tank, hooking an arm around the main gun and hoisting himself up onto the turret before he slipped himself into the open tank commander hatch. With practiced ease, he got himself situated and slipped on the crew helmet as he keyed into the tanks onboard communications system.

“Nice of you to join us, Sir.” Lance Corporal Leon, the Cruel Intentions gunner chimed in with a smile as he sized up his Lieutenant’s choice of outfit, “Gray stripes, a bold choice.” he laughed as Lance Corporal Timon, his Loader, joined in with a laugh.

“Gray stripes?” came the voice of Private Flavian, Cruel Intentions driver, from his separated section at the front of the tank, obviously looking for some sort of explanation of what was being talked about in the turret since he couldn’t see for himself.

“Yeah yeah very funny,” Lieutenant Julienne Stavros agreed as he settled himself into his seat, “so what is this all about? Couldn’t survive a weekend of training without me?”

“Think you ought to get up on the net and talk to 6-6, Sir.”

Stavros obliged, flipping a few switches and keying his mic as he spoke, “2-1 Actual checking in, can I get some sort of a reason I’m here and not drinking Downtown, Over?”

There was a short lapse of silence before Lieutenant Colonel Calliene came over the radio, “2-1, 6-6. Nice of you to join us, standby to copy brief.”

Stavros recoiled at the derision in his Commanders voice and obliged as she began to talk.

“HADES is on Salernum, it’s a small contingent, first we’ve seen of em here. A training flight spotted them by accident as they were cutting across the Valestides Plains and flew back fast as they could to let Command know. Best Intelligence can give us is a Company minus, some twelve Taurons and around a hundred Canceron and Picon chassis each.”

Stavros shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he listened to his Company Commanders' brief while the Cruel Intentions rolled on behind the column of armor.

“Entire Battalion is out to stop these Shinies before they break the Plains and make for Aquileia. Alpha and Charlie Companies will take our flanks, while we in good old Bravo will make up the center that these assholes break themselves on. Command was even nice enough to send out some engineers and dig us fighting positions while we mustered back at the motorpool. Maintain radio silence from this point forward until we engage. Stick to standard procedure and we’ll come out on top, easily. Good hunting, 6-6 out.”

The radio fell silent and Stavros sagged into his seat as the implications of HADES’ presence on Salernum set into his mind.

“Can’t be that bad right? Couple hundred Shinies against us? They’ll be smashed to scrap in no time.” Leon quipped as he nervously checked and rechecked his sights calibrations.

“We’ll either kick them back to Halcyon or we won’t have to worry about anything for what could be the short remainder of the rest of our lives, that’s for certain,” Stavros stated as he sat back up in his seat and began to check the Cruel Intentions systems.

“Great.” Leon replied with forced enthusiasm to his tank commander's pessimism.

---

“Contact, two hundred and seventy degrees, HADES chassis!” Leon called out as Stavros slid down into his seat from his place outside the hatch and pushed his face into the commander's sight. He found himself looking at some twenty HADES chassis coming over a small rise in the field before his companies position.

He licked his lips as he traversed the gun from his position, laying in the sights on the chassis at the center of the formation of drones. It was a Tauron chassis, a massive thing, nearly a story and a half tall and propelled on four clambering legs. It sported four guns to the Cruel Intentions one and seemed to sweep the land in front of it with four vicious red eyes. He watched in fascination as it loped along the plain with almost animal-like movements and waited as it neared its doom.

“GUNNER, SABOT, TAURON IN VIEW!” he yelled without keying his mic as he released control of the turret back to Leon.

“IDENTIFIED.” came Leon’s response as the turret smoothly continued tracking the quadrupedal machine.

“UP!” Timon yelled as he cleared himself away from the cannon and slapped the safety off with a gloved hand.

There was a brief period where Stavros felt as though the drones before him had certainly passed into the killzone, that they were being allowed to needlessly close on his tank and his platoon's positions. He itched to let Leon free, to let the Cruel Intentions fulfill her purpose in life, but he held his tongue.

A moment later the radio creaked to life in his ears.

“6-6 all elements. Weapons free.”

“FIRE!”

“ON THE WAAAAAY!”

The Cruel Intentions cannon barked with fury as it fired and Stavros watched as the Tauron in view lurched over and came to a grinding halt belching flame out of the newly created hole in its front.

“TARGET CEASE FIRE!” Stavros yelled as he propped himself up in his open hatch and surveyed the two other tanks in his platoon, 2-2 and 2-3, both of which had fired at nearly the same time 2-1 had. He brought his binoculars to his face and surveyed the killing field a smile growing across his lips as counted six burning Taurons, twice as many Cancerons in similar states, and a number of Picons being chewed apart by the gauss cannons of the battalions Ample’s.

First blood for the good guys, he thought as he breathed a sigh of relief and the tension in his shoulders released just a little.

“Good shooting, keep scanning,” he stated proudly to his crew as he took up his radio to check on 2-2 and 2-3. He was about to key the mic when someone else came over the battalion net.

“Incoming!”

The world around Stavros diffused into a mirage of flashing lights and heat as the invaders answered for the deaths of their own.[/hr]

Cruel Intentions chewed its way down a residential road in reverse, the jolt of vehicles being flattened beneath her treads and pushed aside like toy cars only an afterthought in Stavros’ mind as he scanned the deadzones between the houses as they flashed by in time with Cruel Intentions main gun.

“All 2 elements, reform Vanix Square at best speed, Battalion is forming a new defensive line.”

He listened as the other two tanks under his command responded and turned himself back to the digital map on the screen to his front. He felt his stomach churning as he updated to the newest positions of friend and foe.

Alpha Company was no longer even counted amongst the friendly units, and Charlie Company was fairing only slightly better, having been reduced to just a single platoon and few lone Ample’s running amok in the next neighborhood over. Bravo Company had had it the easiest, by far, he realized as he noticed only two tanks lost to his companies name.

It was a miracle, considering what they’d held against. Sixteen regiments had come at them after the artillery barrage. Seventeen hundred Taurons, and far too many Cancerons to count, not to mention the withering rocket and missile barrage from the Virgon chassis that followed a few minutes after. That the entire battalion hadn’t been completely wiped from the face of Salernum was an act of God as far as Stavros was concerned. Unfortunately, God could only do so much for a single tanker and his crew, and so the Battalion had fought for two and a half hours as rear forces rushed to set a new defensive line. Or at least that had been the plan.

He cursed to himself that this had been allowed to happen as the tank came to a grinding halt on the far side of Vanix Square. He took stock of his surroundings with only the tanks of his own platoon coming to rest on either side of him.

“No one’s fuckin here!” Leon called as he raised himself out of his own hatch and surveyed the empty square. The lights were still on, a number of carnival rides stood idle as their lights flashed happily for someone to come and ride them, and somewhere Stavros couldn’t quite see beyond the rides something was on fire deeper in the square.

He turned to the direction they’d just come in and took in the sight in the distance. The orange glow of fires lit the horizon, punctuated by the acrid black smoke of burning vehicles and structures. The view was interlaced with staccato tracer fire and the flash of explosions near constantly. Had he now known any better, he may have considered himself lucky to be witness to such an awe-inspiring sight.

Instead, he pushed himself back down into his seat and took up the radio, “6-6, 2 Actual, in place at Vanix, over.”

The radio hissed to life in his ear, the return muddled and choppy as the jamming of the HADES drones attempted to cut communications entirely.

“2 Actual, this is 5-5, 6-6 is gone. The Company is scattered, attempting to reform at Vanix with haste. Hold, Out.” the radio crackled off and Stavros simply stared for a while at nothing in particular.

“Where’s the rest of the damn regiment! Those dumb fuckin infantry? Where the fuck is everyone?!” Leon exclaimed to the world outside the tank before Timon pulled him back inside.

“They’re not coming.” Stavros stated as a fact, “The entire city is under siege, everyone is fighting, we’re not getting any help here.” he said as he pushed the screen in front of him around for his gunner and loader to see. Their eyes went wide as the realization set in, only for Timon to push the screen away with a forced smile.

“As long as everyone else is just as fucked as we are, I’m good,” he smirked.

“Same here.” Leon at his side agreed, followed by a simple “yeah” from Flavian upfront.

“As long as we’re all in agreement then.” Stavros stated as he sat up in his seat and keyed his mic to organize his tanks into fighting order.

---

The drones came in at a trickle at first, a Tauron here, a handful of Picons there. A few Virgons that had seemingly lost their escorts even rounded a two-story residential right in the sights of 2-3 at some point, and the resulting detonations had completely leveled half a block of homes.
And though some friendly units managed to slip into the Square, it hadn’t been enough to mount any real concerted defense of the suburbs.

2-2 had been the first hit, a clean volley from a single Tauron tore through the turret and atomized everything within in the ensuing ammunition explosion, 2-3 had returned the gesture in kind a couple of seconds later, leaving the Tauron a burning wreck some 600 meters distant.

Next had been a pair of Ample’s that had taken up positions behind the paltry selection of tanks. They were picked open by a streaking volley of missiles from Virgons somewhere out behind the homes on the other side of the square. Their turrets and roofs came open as if someone had taken a can opener to them, revealing only an inferno within. Stavros didn’t count any crew bailing out, and had turned his attention back to the opposite side of the square as the whining sound of mechanical walkers began to overtake the drone of his own tanks engine.

---

Sixteen minutes. They had held Vanix Square for sixteen minutes.

Stavros slammed his fist into the side of the turret as he was jostled about where he sat. “2-3, Actual, make for Vanix Elementary. Salernum is lost, over.” he radioed to his only other remaining tank with a scowl.

“3, copies.” came the dejected response from Sergeant Trier, commander of 2-3.
Salernum was lost. He read the priority message again, disbelief fighting with the cold reality he had come to know all too well in the fighting of the last four hours, and felt rage and anguish all at once.

The Western and Southern approaches to Aquileia had held well enough, but the Eastern and Northern defenses had crumbled against a near-endless onslaught of drones. And when Command had finally had the thought to order a redeployment of parts of the Western and Southern defensive lines it was already too to make a difference as the forces of HADES filtered into the tight confines of the cities suburbs and outer sprawl.

The choice to evacuate, to abandon all of Salernum, had come quickly. Mercifully, even.

There’d been enough time to organize civilians to freighters and transports, and what little resistance that Stavros and his boys put up had led to thousands saved. But it hadn’t been enough. Leon had reported civilian cars on thermals several times on the opposite side of Vanix Square, out on the other side of Vestan control, out amongst those quadruped horrors. They’d even tried a few times to signal cars as they screamed by with flashlights, but no one ever noticed or cared enough to stop for the terrifying tanks of their own army attempting to save them.

By all accounts, nearly 60% of Aquileia’s population was already bound for Veii aboard ships, but that still left some three million within the city limits, not to mention those in the smaller cities and towns spread across the moon.

Yet here they were, tearing up residential roads in an all-out sprint to an evacuation site that was dangerously close to the advancing drones.

---

Cruel Intentions led the way into the remnants of a grade school playground, pockmarked by artillery fire and a number of burning Taurons as Stavros and his small contingent of survivors raced for the maw of a waiting heavy freighter across the Racket Field. Stavros pulled himself up out of the tank hatch and was immediately assaulted by the heat of the spacecraft's exhaust and the roar of its engines.

He could make out vague outlines of people in the cockpit far above his head, and as he rolled in under the freighter he caught the terrified gaze of a crew member as he waved them forward into the cargo bay.

“All elements load in, make it fit, don’t care how don’t care where.” Stavros radioed to the small convoy of vehicles he had scraped together in the past hour. With a lurch, Flavian gunned the Cruel Intentions up the ramp and into the dimly lit cargo bay with a little too much power.

The tank roared forward and over a number of small shipping crates before coming to an inglorious halt against the far-side wall. Behind them, the rest of the surviving vehicles followed in a similar fashion.

Thirty more minutes they spent in Aquileia, in that dying city. As the freighter's crew, his ragtag group of tankers, and a chewed up platoon of infantry they’d picked up along the way chained down the vehicles and took on more survivors. But once the work was done the freighter crew insisted they had to leave.

Stavros had fought this notion at first, arguing that the longer they stayed the more people would come. But as time went on, and fewer and fewer survivors came clambering up the ramp, Stavros finally gave in.

He’d watched the death of Aquileia. From behind the shielded windows of the freighter’s bridge in orbit above Salernum he’d watched as a small star sprang to life. At one moment there was a city, and the next a boiling inferno. He watched as the light faded and the mushroom cloud grew. And then he could watch no longer as the freighter fell out of view of the cloud and the catastrophe it represented.

Artimis Seu
Ithaka
Mass transit train #09


The mass transit trains of Ithaka were long, sleek machines that cut through the air as they travelled from city to city. Carrying as much as 30 to 40 cars, the entire caravan can stretch for miles.
Inside the passenger cars comfort was the priority, with ample seating and cabins for groups. Dedicated luggage cars kept passenger areas clear of baggage and clutter. Mostly straight track maximized speed and minimized movement, something passengers of longer distance trains take for granted. All things considered, these were comfortable trips, something not uncommon for the Concordant.

Artimis sat in a single seat facing backwards towards the wall of the train, his eyes locked on the window across the car from where he sat. The car was almost deserted, save for a few older men and women sitting silently or talking amongst themselves.
It was the middle of Ithaka’s summer and rainy season making the humidity nearly unbearable. Even the lightest of fabric would be too much clothing as the heat made it more preferable to be naked. Men and women usually wore short tunics and dresses of various lengths and fabrics. This was normally coupled with a heavy mortum fur cloak in the winter with heavy boots made from the fur of some sedentary animal. Women and men usually carried a shawl in all seasons, made from lighter fabrics in the summer and heavy furs during the winter. These were useful for blocking the sun during the summer and added warmth and protection from the cold winter wind.

Artimis’s shawl covered his face as he watched the doors of the train close before the car slowly gained speed. The Window in the car were open, allowing a heavenly breeze to blow into the car. People clutched their clothing as the wind whipped up against them, enjoying the respite from the humid air.
Artimis was glad for the shawl, contrary to his normal behavior. He normally found them annoying and inefficient for their intended use. He preferred the use of more modern polarizing eye shields and caps, but the traditional way of life on the surface was very different to those in the void. He was glad for the anonymity that the shawl offered at this moment, as he was the youngest passenger on the train.

Due to the highly specialized nature of life in the Concordant, you lived and worked with people in the same discipline as you. Entire cities were dedicated to one discipline, grouping similar people in the same urban area. This train was headed to Urbani, the medical urban center on Ithaka. Doctors, because the experience required to be considered a doctor by the state, tend to be older than those in most professions. Artimis was no doctor, and was far too young to be a doctors apprentice. There was nothing barring him from being on this train, free travel to any city was possible. The traditional lifestyle of Ithaka is the main deterrent however, and avoiding the questioning from the other passengers was always preferable.
Artimis was a nano-mechanic by trade and had very little exposure to the medical discipline. His augmentation research was interesting to many within the medical discipline and he was here to discuss the creation of a new discipline, bio-augmentation.
As forward thinking as society may seem in the Concordant, a traditional mindset is still dominant. Many citizens, see the creation of a new discipline as a waste of resources and a strain on government. Many are comfortable with their way of life and fear a return of resource-based conflict. New technologies meant uncertainty and growth, usually a good thing for civilizations but not for the conservative minded Concordant.
Nano tech had recently received a major breakthrough, with the ultra-miniaturization of computing chips and materials, allowing computing devices to be implanted onto organs, within bones even at the cellular level. This meant nothing to Artimis, he could build and program these nano machines but interfacing with human biology was simply outside of his intellect.

The train passed through the urban sprawl before suddenly being shot out into the wild. Trading the smells and sites of open aired squares and apartments for the large expanse of savannah grasslands and forests. The smell of humid grass filled the car as the train picked up speed, quickly leaving the city in the dust.
The terrain was mostly flat, allowing the passengers to see for miles in any direction. Artimis could see a growing thunderstorm in the distance and the beginnings of a funnel cloud. Spending most of his time in sterile rooms, Artimis never had the time to enjoy the wilds of Ithaka. It was beautiful, in a terrifying way, human had been on Ithaka for generations but the planet was still the master of their fate.
The light in the car suddenly dimmed as the train passed crossed into a dense forest, the canopy almost blocking out all the light from the star. Artimis sighed as he mentally prepared himself for the long trip before slowly closing his eyes, drifing off to sleep.

Lieutenant Kaiphas Guant
3rd Reg, 1st Bat ( Sand Sirens)
N 37.98.001, W 01.23.398


Kaiphas looked down at the map attached to the center console of the vehicle as the light truck bounced and pivoted over rough terrain. His eyes struggled to follow his route on the map before his eyes shot out in front of him, eyeing a large dirt crossroad up ahead of him. Kaipahs quickly brought a pair of binoculars up to his face, his fingers working the button display to zoom and sharpen in the image in front of him.
A dust plume could be seen in the distance, silhouetted by the dense forest behind it. Following the plume to the right, Kaiphas could make out a group of vehicles armed to the teeth with active protection systems and machine guns. His eyes narrowed as he counted the vehicles, following the column before an object caught his eye.
Maybe 100 meters in front of the convoy, what looked like the crest of a small hill began moving, seemingly rotating towards his convoy. At first the look of confusion washed across his face before his eyes suddenly widened with sheer terror.
“TANK!!”, Kaiphas yelled before pushing the steering wheel to the right, forcing the occupants of the vehicle to one side as the vehicle spun out. The dull thump of a heavy cannon could be heard followed by the unmistakable whistle of a shell passing close by before a defining explosion was head, indicative on an air burst shell.
“ Everyone out!” he yelled again, his face buried in-between his arms as he tried to make himself as small as possible. His right hand furiously scrambled to find the door handle as another shell screamed overhead followed by another explosion, this time even closer. Small arms fire could be heard pinging off the outside of the truck, adding to the anxiety of the moment as his hands finally found the handle.
The door shot open, spilling the lieutenant out onto the dirt and into a symphony of violence. The sound of staccato sounds of heavy machine guns could be heard over the constant snap of outgoing and incoming small arms fire. Kaiphas was stunned as he laid in the mud wide eyed at the situation, it was just starting to register that this was an ambush. His radio screamed incomprehensibly in his ear as troops called out positions and asked for instructions. It was then that a quick triple thump could be heard, drawing Kaiphas’s attention towards the previous position of the enemy tank. Two more tanks seemingly materialized out of nowhere, similarly camouflaged and positioned, and began advancing towards their position.

The feeling of terror returned, pushing Kaiphas towards his feet as he ran back towards the rear of his vehicle, meeting two other members of his platoon in a similar confused state.

“ Sir! Whats going on!” on soldier yelled, as he pressed his body into the vehicle for safety
“ Ambush” Kaiphas yelled before smacking the rear of the vehicle. “ Grab the launchers and follow me” he said, turning to peer over the threshold of the vehicle towards the advancing tanks. “ All squads, deploy AT teams” he said over the radio before two soldiers shot out behind him, both carrying a large tube and targeting system. As he turned his head towards the other vehicles, he could see a similar sight. Teams of soldiers, running through the fire to reach a nearby berm. Kaiphas smirked as he felt like he was regaining control of the situation before running for the berm himself.
The fire seemed to intensify as he began his run to the berm, the crack of rounds passing over his head at an increased rate as he ducked his head to run the last 30 meters. It was then a round, snuck over the lip of the berm and impacted the armor plate just below his left shoulder. This was followed by another round impacting the center of his faceplate directly. The kenetic energy of the round spun his body while the impact of the round to his helmet knocked him off his feet. Kaiphas spun a complete 180 and landed on his stomach facing away from where he was running.

Kaiphas laid there for a bit before letting out a loud sigh, even under the padded armor plate full powered training rounds still hurt like hell. He was ‘dead’ by training standards and couldn’t move for the remainder of the exercise. Command wanted everyone to stay in the position they fell in, leaving Kaiphas face down in the cold grass. The sounds of battle seemed to die down, probably because Kaiphas’s platoon was getting torn to pieces. Kaiphas sighed again as he realized his predicament, he would certainly get chewed out for this later. He could almost feel the physical training punishment coming his way, followed by the retribution of his platoon as well. This was becoming a well known cycle for Kaiphas, as his tactical failures became more consistent.
Kaiphas Gaunt was young, barely 20 revolutions old and fresh out of the officer academy. He was from a legacy family or military officers, leading back to the first colonists of Ithaka. Kaiphas was a talented engineer in his own right, but his fate was determined by his lineage, he would be a soldier. No matter how bad of a soldier he may be

New Haven
City of New Athenia
Gaian Temple
“A new life awaits you! Brothers and Sisters!” Temple Father Zionus announced, his voice booming through the crowded streets. The New Haven Directorate being kind enough to allow the Gaian Harmony to construct a Temple in their capital city, the temple itself was a work of art, made up of towering spirals, sleek and curved shapes, it was almost maddening to describe the structure in words. Assisting the Temple Father were MK1 Legionary drones and and rather pleasing-looking Temple Sisters as they passed out infopads to curious onlookers, always parting ways with potential converts with “May you find True Paradise.”

“I know that Transcendence can be daunting, even frighting.” The Temple Father said. “But all you need is to take one step! Gaia’s gift to you all, the chip! Such a small device can bring you closer to paradise, to true happiness! No strife, no war, only peace!”

New Haven was still adjusting to having new colonies of mankind suddenly pop up. Not to mention how different each colony was. The visitors this time came from Gaia and now they were preaching their message in New Athenia. One curious scientist named Sheldon came up to them with an assistant nearby, "Salutations! I'm interested in doing this so called transcendence for the sake of scientific discovery! My assistant will be monitoring it for all the fleshy people around us of course."

“Hazzah! A new brother to join our flock.” Temple Father Zionus said, followed by eyeing the assistant with a flash of a glare, subtle, yet bone chilling. “Of course, your companion can witness you for your first step towards true paradise. Follow me.” The Temple Father stepped down from his podium, as he and two Temple Sisters escorted the pair into the interior of the Temple. The Temple itself was dim, yet illuminated, a long tall, golden statue of a feminine figure standing at the end of the walkway.

"PERFECT!" the prospecting researcher exclaimed. "LEROY! READY YOUR EQUIPMENT!"

The man behind him was dragging a whole cart that weighed about a ton. Even with his exoskeleton assistance he was already panting, "I fuckin -huff!- am already!"

"Well chop chop! We're wasting daylight!"

"Why am I the intern?" he whispers under his breath.

As they enter the temple interior the researcher then asks, "What will the process entail?"

“We’re not too far, we’ll gladly show you!” Zionus said as he led the group deeper underneath the Temple, entering a clean lab environment, rows upon rows of inanimate robotic shells lined up on one section of the facility, along with several clear rooms of operating tables of sorts. A glass door slide open in one of the rooms as Zionus was the first to step in. “Please lie down on your stomach, brother.”

"PERFECT! SO INTERESTING! LEROY YOU BETTER GET THIS ON FOOTAGE!"

Leroy, the assisstant, looked at his boss and said with a dry exasperated expression, "Shouldn't you ask first whether we can film this?"

"It'll be fine! We are scientists! We have a moral obligation to record things for posterity and for the betterment of mankind as a whole!"

The researcher then goes over and lies down on his belly, "I AM READY GOOD SIR!"

Zionus turned to Leroy, placing his cold hand over his shoulder. “Do not worry, my son.” He said. “We have nothing to hide….” At least, in first phase of the procedure….
Zionus turned his attention back to the eager scientist. “I would brace yourself if I were you, If I remember correctly, the process will be a bit….painful.”

With that said, several elongated mechanical arms emerged from the celling, all equipped with unique surgical tools for such a delicate procedure. An additional arm emerged, on the tip it carried the Chip implant, ready to inject directly to the brain.

Leroy continued to film and asked to his researcher friend, "Are you sure about this Sheldon?"

"There is no boundary for science Leroy! Be brave! BE BRAVE FOR PROGRESS!" Sheldon braced himself for the procedure

Leroy continued to film, despite the imposing presence of Zionus. For his comrade in science, he must show no fear.

The arms went to work as they begun the surgery, cleanly cutting through meat and bone as a gapping hole was left in Sheldon’s cranium in the aftermath, the arm with the chip slowly lowered itself and in quick succession, inserted the chip deep in his brain in a blink of a eye. Once the process was completed, the arms resumed with resealing the surgical spot. Within moments, the arms retreated into the celling as Zionus was the first to step forward and approached Sheldon. “How do you feel? Sheldon?” He asked.

"I feel... Okay I think?" Sheldon looks around himself before looking back at Leroy, "You got that on footage right? How'd it look?"

Leroy then said, "It looked terrifying... But then again, we do our procedures using nano-surgery which is far less intrusive. This does the same thing but in a more direct way."

"Hmm... Keep recording these notes! I'm interested" Sheldon then returned his attention to Zionus, "What's next then?"

“The final step of Transcendence is choosing your new body.” Zionus replied as he led the group out of the room and towards a wall lined with rows of inactive Gaian shells of varied designs. “Choose whatever suits you, my brother, what speaks to you?”

Sheldon put a hand to his chin and browsed through the selection as if he were picking a suit for a wedding. He looked over one body with a sleek, elegant, yet simple design.

"I think I'll go for this one" he pointed over to it, Leroy of course was close behind filming everything as they went. Then he said, "You're finally getting cyberdized like you always wanted."

"Heh- Well, this isn't exactly what I pictured, but it's close enough right?"

Leroy let out a bit of a chuckle before looking towards Zionus.

“Ahh, a fine choice indeed…” Zionus said. “Come! Greatness awaits!” With that said, the selected shell sank into the wall, the group once more, leaving the floor and ventured deeper into the Temple, right into the Transcendence Chambers. Dozens of glass tubes lined up, ready to be filled with potential “occupants”. Said tubes were all linked to greater machines as they let out low hums that filled the air. The group stopped at one particular tube as the New Sheldon hung over it, tendril-like wires and tubes gripping and connecting the shell with the machine. The glass seal raised up.

“Step in, and your past life will be all behind you.”

"I'll see you on the other side friend" Sheldon shook Leroy's hand before stepping into his glass tube.

"Alright, I'll see ya!" Lucas continues to record Sheldon's transition.

Sheldon’s body was consumed in a blinding light as the Transcendence begun, you could almost hear a hauntingly beautiful hum ringing out during the process, and for a moment, screaming could be heard from Sheldon’s tube, tearing one’s mind apart and reassembling it into code would no doubt be..painful. Zionus looked to the Lucas, who no doubt was alarmed. “Do not fear, my boy.” He reassured him. “This is all part of the process, all part of bettering yourself, all part of Her plan.” The hums soon died down as well as Sheldon’s screams, all was silent as the light dimmed. The tube that carried Sheldon’s new body lowered itself towards the group, the glass door sliding open as a cloud of smoke filled the air.

Electronic-sounding joints whirred up as Sheldon took a step forward, scanning the room with his new eyes, feeling a sense of euphoria as he behold himself to his new form. “It is done.” Zionius said, his pride and accomplishment hard to hide. “Welcome to the fold, Brother Sheldon!”

---

A Collab Between Liotrent & @Sigma

Eta-Theta reached down towards the throat of the creature beneath them, fingers curling in preparation. The sheep turned its head to look at him, eyes slow and silly, and the android's fingers reached their target, scritching at the fluff around the creature's neck. Their other hand came down to reach at the sheep's ear, giving it a few hard rubs, then moving to its forehead to continue the scratches. The sheep let out a pleased noise and slowly sank into the android's hands, before lying in the grass and rolling over.

I never believed I would be surrounded by life like this. Eta-Theta turned to look up at their companion, a tall, mostly unmodified Enlightened wearing loose, rugged clothing and a cowboy hat. Was it like this on Bezia? I didn't tune in much. You were... Slightly scary. She frowned.

No. Eta-Theta shook their head, kneeling down further so as to give the sheep a few firm belly rubs. Bezia is... The android would have frowned too, but their new form didn't have the ability to perform facial expressions. They preferred it that way. The world feels dead. Dry. Dusty. It's not quite that of Zeta-5, but... It is not alive. They turned down, staring at the green grass underfoot. Not like this.

They rose to their feet, turning to look over the ranch. Their former employees had requested that they preserve the planet, and the Enlightened were all too happy to oblige. They were to be the caretakers and guardians of this world as much as its masters. After all- they were to be Enlightened, were they not?

I scared you? Eta-Theta finally asked, cocking their head.

Yes. The war scared me. It all did. She looked away from the android, pointedly fixating on the flock arrayed in front of them. A moment of nothing passed between the pair, and then she continued. But... Thank you nonetheless. For what you did.

You shouldn't. What I did wasn't necessary.

Justice is necessary. Her eyes turned back to meet Eta-Theta's, a spark lingering in the back of them. A creche sibling... Too young for the implants... She glanced away again, hand squeezing into a fist, and then relaxing.

Eta-Theta's hand came up, and rested on the woman's shoulder. She seemed to freeze for a moment, then, slowly, reached her own hand up and placed it atop theirs, warm flesh against chill metal. There was another long moment of silence, and then Eta-Theta drew their hand back. The air here was fresh, clean, and full of life, with a hint of dung. The sheep, now that it was not being scratched, had risen to its feet, bumping against Eta-Theta a few time to try to cajole more pets from them, before giving up and turning away, trotting back towards its brethren with an indignant 'baa.'

War will come again. Soon. The smirk was audible in their tone. But... You should stay as your are. Keep your skin. They began to walk away from the field, vaulting easily over the low fence that seperated the sheep from the rest of the land. The other Enlightened used the gate. You will have metal forever. Appreciate the flesh when you can have it.