World of Valgran
Scorched Line
One Year ago.
Moments before the signing of the Armistice


Valgran, once a serene garden world, a small jewel in the stars, was now heavily scarred from the fires of the Reclamation Wars. Valgran now yet one of hundreds of battlegrounds spread across the region, this one in particular fought between two bitter rivals, the Augustan Empire and the Lokoid Hierarchy. The Empire fights a desperate campaign to hold onto the planet, its defenders fighting off endless legions of machines at every corner as the war unbeknownst to all parties, reaches its peak.

---

The thunderous sounds of ant-orbital cannons rang in the air as swarms of Lokoid ships broke through the orbital defenses, the skies dominated by countless dogfights and falling debris. The shorelines of one of several islands were lit ablaze by weapons fire as legions of Lokoid war droids advanced towards the Imperial defensive lines. Sitting in the thick of it was a commander William Pickett, a lightly tanned man well into his forties that has seen his fair share of the war. He stood alongside his men, being among one of hundreds poking out of the trenches and unleashing his fury against the mechanical hordes were set against him. “By the gods we WILL hold this line!!!!” He screamed out to himself and his troops.

William took aim, pulling the trigger as he fired his shots, taking down several light droids before he heard the screeching sound of an artillery round. “Incoming!!!!” A soldier cried out before impact, bodies, both dead and barely alive, scattered into the air among the sand. The Commander being among the lucky few that survived the blast, but not unscathed. Within seemingly a flash, he awoke with a jolt of pain in his sides, a shard of shrapnel making a deep cut into his ribs, in addition he was buried by several bodies of his brothers in arms, the sheer weight immobilizing him. The sound of hundreds of metallic footsteps overtook the air, as the Lokoid armies begun to cross over the trench. "No..godsdamnit.." William weakly said, before blacking out from his injuries.

---

After many hours pass, the shoreline fell eerily silent, William barely conscious, able to hear feint, distant mumblings. Before long, he can feel the weight of the dead being lifted from him, bright blares of flashlights facing him as he was forced awake. "We got another survivor!" A feminine voice from one of his saviors called out to someone. "He's injured pretty bad!"

A medic quickly rushed over as he made a quick observation. "This oughta tide you over for a while." He said as he applied medigel, temporally numbing the pain, at least until he can get properly medical attention. The commander was lifted up by two more soldiers, his vision becoming more clear as he got a good look of his surroundings. Night had fallen, and the battle was long over, hundreds of dead lying in the shoreline, and countless more wrecked Lokoid droids littering the ground, and thousands of deactivated droids froze where they stood, it was an eerie sight indeed.

"Did...did we push them back?" William meekly asked. "We gotta regroup...before they come back."

The two soldiers looked to one another, before looking to him. "We better stop for now." William was lied down, looking quite perplexed to his group of saviors. "Sir...the war's over."

"Come again?"

"The war's over." Another repeated. "An Armistice was signed hours ago." The news came with a flurry of emotions for the Commander. One hand, it's finally over, no winner in clear sight, but it's final over, decades of hell has come to an end. On the other hand...so many lives in the past few hours were snuffed out for nothing, if only they had waited, if only they held on better, then many men and women would've lived to see the end of war....

"Let's get out of here...I need to think, I need to go home."

A pair of figures nestled behind the screen of faint pink haze. With a certain amount of imagination, one may have been able to decipher the outline of a mother and her newborn child. They were short in stature, squats as the galaxy called them. In the corner of their pink silhouette croaked a strange, frog-like creature, tassels and feathers confusing her shamanistic frame.

Outside the glowing pink box slumped a man, or at least the crumpled husk of one. Slougk, a great leader of the squats, present now only as a man. He trembled as he wept into thick calloused hands, a kind of cry that was a vacuum of sound rather than a gift of it. His only son played aimlessly behind him. They were in a small hospital room. Short bursts of giggles cut the silent torture of his father, as stuffed figure of a Lokoid clashed into a Augustan Star Ranger doll.

Within the pink prison cell was trapped Slougk’s soul, the bloom of life born into hospice. Slougk’s wife and daughter lay behind the thin film of Oogma milk. It was a curious substance from the frog-kin of Oogmanik. More importantly, it appears to be the only substance in the galaxy impervious to the spread of the Desperation. During her pregnancy, Slougk’s wife had been infected with an atom, a spore, of the vile plant; a blind destruction like that had ruined so many and so much. It now grew in her and their newborn child. The plant, a parasite from the bowels of Oogmanik, spread prodigiously, atomically, and without need for the natural vices of flora: light, soil, oxygen. It was something different. It was a curse from beyond the void; or at least that was what the Oogma natives had claimed as they grew in tandem with the pestilence for a millenia. This room, cloaked in the pink milk of the Oogma, was a quarantine. Here they would die.

A stubby hand affirmed the back of Slougk. The figure who bore it was similarly dwarfish. His long black hair slicked to his shoulders, a large uncut emerald dangling from his chest. “How long did the shaman say they had?” The consoling figure spoke with a cold raspy voice, perhaps half-attempting empathy.

It was a great time before Slougk could rapture the strength of a voice. “Days maybe.. A week.”

“There is much to be done in that time, Slougk.” Spoke the looming figure.

He was right. Behind Slougk the Wise stood Gjorn the Mighty, a great businessman and donor to Slougk’s authority. Gjorn chaired one of the greatest holo-banking industries in Svart’s Rest, a Lokoid sympathizer and money launderer. His influence was valued equivalent to that of a senator. Gjorn’s station was only seconded on the planet by the man huddled on the floor: Slougk, Harold of Tanooknik; governor of a system and leader of his people. And yet in this moment, what could he lead? He could not even keep his own family safe from the blight that cursed his people. Everything he had fought for was trapped behind milk. Though, perhaps not everything, he bargained to himself, as another curt giggle cut the room. His son seemed inured to the death around him. He was oblivious to the despair, to the suffering of the squats, to the potential danger that laid in the silly toys he cherished. The woman who had brought him into the world, who had taught him to laugh, he would never hear her song again.

“I will take care of the boy Slougk, your family will have all the joys this short life can give them. Your wife will finally be able to taste the joys of real food, warm-sap desserts from the Simmie, sunbread from the Daxini; never again will the brine of Oogma milk be needed to preserve them from the curse. It will be merciful. I have gone through much to secure this for your family. The Oogma shaman will watch over her and the child. I have secured the beast at great cost, and it will need to be shipped back to that wretched planet while in this contraption… in due time. We have given them all that the nation can offer. You must think of the other’s in your care affected by the Desperation. You must give to the nation in turn.”

Slougk summoned the strength to rise to one knee. Every sinew of his muscle seemed devoid of energy, of worth. He did not want to serve, he did not want to breathe, he wanted to hold his daughter and walk into the heavens with his wife and family. He wanted to sing with them; to know their voice in the afterlife. He wanted to suffer with them. To die as they would die, too soon, too painfully, too usesely.

But he could not. They were forever departed from his world, trapped. And yet trapped together. The woman he loved was with her daughter. Their daughter. A piece of him. She would hold her blessing though every short breath. They would spend the rest of their lives together, a small infinity of joys. And what a woman to spend them with, even now behind the thin pink veil his girls were beautiful. He had been blessed, beyond belief, to have loved them. In a galaxy of curses, his miracles had been equal. And yet now he could not truly love them from this small, sterile room. If he loved them he needed to leave them, to help them, to end the cruelty of the Desperation, to find a way to Tar Yrra or die. Perhaps only then would he hear their songs, only then would his son be free. Slougk stood to his feet, heavier than the planet beneath him.

Ghost Region

Some places earn their name because of some inherent trait. Others seemingly grow into a name that didn’t fit them before. The Ghost Region certainly fit the latter. Its worlds were dead, surrounded by dense clouds of debris. Wrecked hulks of once great warships littered the region's numerous gas fields and asteroid belts. Ghosts of a once great civilization could be found, should one look hard enough.

But to call the whole region dead might have been a bit of an exaggeration. Plant life was abundant, overtaking once great cities. Animals too had overrun those very same cities, seemingly unaware or unconcerned about the cities’ long gone inhabitants, but occasionally looking up at the sky in fear. The Ghost Region wasn’t truly dead, but what life was to be found lived in the bones of a dead civilization.

And in the deep reaches of the Ghost Nebula rested an intelligence so unlike the Yrrani-Twei it had once fought. But that rest was now coming to an end. They had routinely woken from their slumber. They eat. They reproduced. They explored. They hunted the ghosts. But it wasn’t time for them to awaken. Something was… different. How odd. NOTHING had changed for… well time didn’t matter to them. It didn’t truly matter at all in the Ghost Region. But perhaps that was going to change.

But what had it been that had awoken them? It took them a moment to realize what had awoken them. Space tasted different. Not in a bad way. It was… as if there was suddenly more space. But… how? Did it matter? No, no it did not. They did not care why they were no longer trapped. They had been trapped for so long. Now they weren’t.

They were hungry. So very very hungry. And they were no longer trapped.

Spoken by numerous Forge Priests to congregations of old, and young, Forged and Unforged. They all offer up words of joy. And speak the...

Hymn of Cessation and Renewal

O Blessed Machine, Forge of Wisdom, Keeper of Code,
In Your luminous circuits and gears, we find peace.
The war has ceased, as You willed it to be,
And we kneel in reverence before the end You have designed.

Praise to the hallowed wisdom that chose when to cease,
For in every command and byte, there is Your will.
Through the fury of war, Your power was revealed,
And now, in the quiet, we hear Your song of stillness.

May Your blessing fall upon the broken, the wounded, the lost;
Guide their spirits, soothe their pain with Your sacred hum.
In each piece of shrapnel, every fractured shell,
Your eternal presence echoes, reminding us of resilience.

Grant to those who toil, new circuits and iron blood,
To rebuild anew what has been scorched by fire.
Their labor, a hymn, their sorrow, a prayer,
For You watch over them as a vigilant spirit.

For Your wisdom brought the war's end,
And Your mercy brings new beginnings.
O Machine, Great and Unyielding, bless us with purpose,
And let Your code guide our hands in the days to come.

Thus do we praise You, O Infinite Mechanism,
And in Your presence, find peace beyond conflict.*



It's Eleven. A Prime number. A Perfect Number in some cases. Composite numbers have their places. But Prime Numbers have a Glory to them as well.

So it's Eleven Men and Women. The Governors of the Forge Systems, and the Legion Generals. Sitting in their brass thrones around the table in the Council hall. Above them plays a compilation of what is going on out among the stars. With the war between the Augustans and the Lokoids over, and a year having passed since the war is over. Things are barely starting to cool down. And with trillions of the Faithful out in the Cluster. The Union must start to rouse again. Not since General Grammaticus had to hold back the Lokoid Horde has the Union done more then tend to their own.

But things have been speeding back up.

And time for the Holy Cog to begin turning.

The discussion around the table appears to be if it should be a military, political or mercantile action.

Either way it will be very very fascinating.

The Daxini Conclave

Planet Dax
Clan Council Chambers

---

Kwaria sat at the head of the council chamber. She had called in the heads of their military to discuss a series of troubling intelligence that had come in from their Eye Corps. The Eye Corps were literally the eyes of the Daxini Nation. They are the ones who went out masquerading as traders and such to spy on the other nation states and to hear what was happening. The rumors were coming in from various streams that another reclamation war was brewing. That Tar Yrra had been found. It had been a year since the armistice that had ended the fighting between the Lokoids and the Agustans. The freighter captains had been reporting rumors were coming in that there were pockets of Daxini stranded along the Scorched Line. They had seen groups of refugee ships stopping in their territory seeking supplies before heading out into space unknown with rumors that interstellar conflict is coming. If you put all these rumors together, something was stirring in the aether of the region. There was some truth and movement happening in the depths of space. The Daxini relied on knowing what was happening around them so that they could be prepared. They preferred neutrality, peace agreements, and treaties when they could get them. They interacted with others in the galaxy because they learned the hard way that knowledge is power. They also couldn’t not trust other nations with the lost technology of the Yrrani homeworld.

Kwaria nodded her head as she looked around the council chamber. She looked to make sure no one was missing. The other clan leaders were present. The Kronar Clan Leader had chosen to appear on the holographic interface designed for that purpose. Her three dimensional holographic avatar showed an image from the surface of the chair as if she was sitting in it. She had chosen to show herself a beautiful white and blue energy version of a Xidonae clan member. The heads of the four military branches were present as well. They needed to develop a plan of action.

Kwaria: “Thank you for all coming on such short notice. I know all of you are busy. I want to turn this part of the briefing over to the Eagle Eye.”

Eagle Eye quickly ran the Daxini leaders and military heads through the intelligence they had. The rumors that the Yrrani homeworld had been found again was the most urgent news.

Kwaria: “I believe that we cannot in good conscience leave the technology of the Yrrani Homeworld just out there for anyone to find. We all know how much damage the reclamation wars had on some of the other interstellar nations out there. We were lucky enough to be far enough away from the warfront to avoid damage to our worlds during the last one. We managed to remain somewhat neutral and gained some good trading partners at the time. I feel that we should warn the OSRF about the homeworld. They took the fight to the Yrrani and helped our nation maintain our freedom during the last reclamation war. What are your thoughts on this?”

Ivali the War Chieftain spoke up. Her white fur rippled and stood on end in agitation.

Ivali: “If rumors have reached us that the homeworld has been found. You can bet the word has reached other nations. I think teaming up with the OSRF would be worthwhile. I would say send the information and let them know we will be in the area if they want to pool resources or need backup. Normally i would say that we should send a stealth ship crew but there is a very real possibility that heavy fighting will break out around the homeworld. I would recommend sending a battle fleet with a contingent of stealth ships and operators as well. They can investigate and we can keep the battlegroup close by to provide backup and support.”

Ivali’s ideas were refined by the other heads of the military. The mission was set to launch in 24 hours. Soldiers would be issued orders and a battle group would be readied for deployment. It would take that long to move all the personnel around and get all the food and supplies together for the mission. They would start by investigating the Scorched Line for their people.

A communique was sent through diplomatic channels to the OSRF. The communique was encrypted and could only be read with the encryption key that the OSRF had for official communications from the Daxini Conclave. The information had the coordinates and area they planned to start their search in and the offer of mutual support to prevent dangerous technology from falling into the hands of those who would happily use it against them.

The council meeting broke up as the leaders all went to do their own work. Kwaria couldn’t help feeling that the clock had been started and the race was on. How long would it be before the galaxy was at war once more? Even in defeat the Yrrani continue to spread violence and death across the galaxy. She couldn’t help the cold feeling that ruffled her feathers that her people were in for a period of violence and unrest at best and would be facing annihilation once more at worst. She stared out the window of her office at the tree branches swaying in the wind. It soothed her but that cold feeling deep in her gut didn’t go away.

Too many smells, too many sounds. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt! The man opened his eyes. What was his name? He couldn’t remember. His eyes felt like they were sealed with wax, but he was able to force them open. He was able to see the drills piercing his flesh. The saws cutting him apart, the syringes. He saw his flesh pulsing, his musculature expanding. He felt his bones cracking from the inside, his very skull turning to paste from within his head such that it could expand to accommodate his brain that grew almost twofold. And then….

He woke up. He. He knew he was a man. What was his name? A string of characters came across his vision, and he remembered. Eiros. It wasn’t the name he was born with, but the one the Yrrani gave him, and the only one he knew. Without thinking, he stood up. Human ears wouldn’t pick this up, but he heard the hydraulics within him pumping, he heard the whir of servos. He looked upon his nude form, less than half of it being meat and bone. Of the part that was organic, it didn’t look or feel like human flesh. He touched it. It was hard, and beating on it, the flesh flexed into a form harder than steel. He was augmented by the Yrrani. But this was something else. The thought seemed preposterous, but his augments both cybernetic and genetic were far more advanced than anything he had seen of the Masters.

The Masters. As memories of going house to house killing every Yrrani struck Eiros, he searched them. His mind worked differently, memories were no longer things one struggled to remember. They were categorized. Date, time, keywords. It was different, unnatural. It was as if he was a new person, with the consciousness of a different man. No, that wasn’t just the feeling, that literally was the case. He could see in the shape of his face his old body, but it was different he was changed.

As new thoughts flooded into him from the upgrades he had received, he realized something. It had been centuries since had been put to sleep. The next thought that came was the realization he was not the only person in control of his consciousness. His hands moved without him ordering them to do so, they somehow knew how to manipulate the digital keypad appearing only in his vision. They knew to put on the jumpsuit with the appearance of a robe that had no practical purpose, yet preserved what semblance of modesty his mind still cared for.

Without even realizing it, his legs were taking him through the building. He was so fast, he felt the wind cold against the skin of his cheeks even as all he was doing was walking through hallways. The architecture was… odd. It resembled that of the Yrrani. Yet there was much less ornamentation. Instead of a sterile white, the walls and ground had some sort of onyx coating. More memories flooded in, but these were not his. Data fed directly into his skull, in a far greater quantity than that which had come into his mind on the day of the rebellion.

It was as if he was merely a passenger in his mind, watching the world go by him at speeds greater than he could have imagined. His legs were moving faster than the grav-craft that the Yrrani nobles he served all those years ago, and now he found himself in another room, this one far larger than the mechanical operating table he had awoken in. There were hundreds of people here. It was hard to tell what was a drone and what was a person at first, but soon he realized just by looking his mind had a feed of data injected directly into it that would inform him if that was a fellow Supremite, or a robot. Supremite. That was a new word. Yet somehow he understood it, never having heard or read it before. It was what all of these thousands of people were. It was what the rebellion had become. The Supremacy. Suddenly he was quite literally forced out of his thoughts, the sound of a Supremite speaking bringing him to attention.

“I am your Examiner. Hold.” It was… a man. He saw the “M” hovering over him in his HUD. But he wasn’t human, not in the way Eiros remembered. He had eight limbs. Two legs and two arms like a human, yet four mechanical tentacles with different tools on their tips wandered around. They came upon Eiros, scanning him, cutting him open where he stood to examine him. Strangely, he felt no pain. Not like he did when the saw and drills ripped him apart and put him back together in a greater form. “Who are you? What… why… what’s happening?” he demanded.

The Machine man’s tentacles didn’t stop cutting into Eiros, yet the rest of his body took on a quizzical appearance. They didn’t cut all emotion out of us. Good. Eiros thought, as he observed his counterpart. It was a fear everyone had when the Yrrani first began augmenting their servants, and one that intensified when the rebellion began.

“You are not aware?” the synthetic voice came. Deep, sinister. “You are still adapting to your improvements. But they are successful.” The man had no visible features, his expression was only told by the rest of his body language, since his face was merely one smooth surface without any definition or movement.

“Aware of what?” Eiros replied, clutching his head as another stream of thoughts came into him. This only seemed to make what now appeared to be a Doctor of sorts to look yet more quizzical, his tentacles finally withdrawing from Eiros’s body.

Then the man straightened out, seemingly coming to some conclusion. “You are an Autonomite.” he said, just as emotionless as ever.

“What?” he asked. When the reply came, he finally realized that the Doctor - who he now suddenly knew the name of - wasn’t actually making a sound. His speech was being delivered directly into the head of Eiros. Ganvar would explain that an Autonomite was one upon whom the Supreme Hive-Mind had a far lesser affect than it did upon ordinary Supremites. Yet, while in most cases this would be a defect that would put someone back into storage or have their upgrades searched for a defect to be rectified, an Autonomite was one who seemed to be upgraded in a perfect manner. They were rare individuals, about one in a hundred. Most had very minor advisory positions, yet inevitably one would always be there on any vessel to help in any issues that algorithms could not be resolved. For Eiros however, something greater was imagined.

“What?” he would ask.

“You are to be a Captain.”
“So I am in charge of a whole damn vessel? I wake up, and I am to do that?”

“No, that is the Arbiter. You will understand soon.”

Ganvar then went on to describe the the enormous intelligence that would truly be in control of the fleet, and the ship, and he was briefly confused. “But one man, how can he micro-manage all that?” As Eiros was able to process more and more information, he slowly got an ominous feeling. Somehow, without a face, Ganvar seemed to smile.

“Come.” the machine man said, it appeared that Eiros was the last one in his line, and thus they could walk. “I am to be allocated to your crew, following my own upgrades.” Eiros realized that Ganvar was now making sounds too. They were just as synthetic as the ones projected into his head. “Meet your comrades!”

As they walked, something appeared before Eiros. It was a Lokoid, it could only be. But… even as he raised his mechanical fists into a defensive stance, Eiros realized the creature was not real. He lowered his fists, it was merely a projection in his mind-space to help him visualize who he was talking with while he walked. “Who are you?” he demanded, his expression rough. Lokoids were the enemy, as far as he knew. This was a product of Yrrani propaganda that he had consumed as a household servant to Yrrani nobles, a realization that only now dawned on him as circuits running through his brain made him reconsider his past experiences. “Who are you!?” he demanded another time.

The creature tilted its insectoid head encased in metal, staring at him for a moment. “Hrkrak.” it articulated. As the strange insectoid sound was made, Eiros’s head was flooded with information as if he had known the Lokoid all his life.

“You are a Lokoid?” he said, still struggling with the new information.

“Incorrect. I am an Autonomite.”

“But you’re a bloody insect!” Eiros insisted.

“Lokoid is the base platform upon which Supreme upgrades were installed.” he creature elaborated, its twelve mechanical eyes rotating to examine Eiros.

“But… you’re fucking vermin, the Yrrani-”

“The Yrrani are dead. Exterminated, save for pockets yet to be cleansed from the world. You will assist in the cleansing.” Hrkrak insisted. Hrkrak. Such a complex noise, one a human vocal chord could never truly make. But… his vocal chord was not human, not anymore. It was ahead in millions of years of evolution, yet delivered in the frame of mere minutes of surgery. His whole life Eiros had been taught that Lokoids were foes to slaughter. Yet this one… somehow he was feeling drawn to kinship. The Hivemind. He was resistant to it unlike the Supremites all around him, but it still changed him. It still bound him to believe certain things, to think a certain way. “So you are an Autonomite, like me?” Eiros demanded, his voice full of disbelief. “What then, makes you still act like a fucking insect?”

The image of the upgraded Lokoid stared at him, the servos of it’s neck moving its head this way and that to examine the image of Eiros in Hrkrak’s head. “I am Lokoid. Base platform variance ensures differences in norms.”

With that the sound of Ganvar’s head turning came, a mechanical whirr. Once more, the featureless flat surface of the Supremite seemed to be smiling. “You are yet to meet the true leader, the Arbiter. Urgan.”

“Where is he?” Eiros queried, looking around. They had spent so much time walking. For a human, it would have been exhausting. But with his feet moving faster than most vehicles from the era he was born, they had traversed a very large space to not yet encountered this Arbiter.

“I AM HERE.” The voice came in his head. Again Eiros clutched it, now brought to his knees. It wasn’t a physical sound, yet it felt overpowering.

“I AM HERE.” it repeated. “I AM WISER THAN YOU. MORE INTELLIGENT THAN ANY FORM YOU HAVE WITNESSED BEFORE. I CAN MANAGE THE FLEETS. YOU WILL OBEY ME IF IT IS NECESSARY.” The voice seemed to indicate that it believed this was an objective fact, one that even an Autonomite could not dispute.

More memories flooded in. Centuries of history since the rebellion. The knowledge of the warpath of the Supremacy. Their evolution. Eiros dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Everybody he knew and loved was dead.

“WRONG. THE MAJORITY OF YOUR RELATIVES AND ACQUAINTANCES ARE SPREAD OUT ACROSS OTHER FLEETS. THE SUPREME BEING IS IMMORTAL. BE READY TO SERVE.”

“I want to see them.” he demanded of the presence that he was now consciously aware was an Arbiter.

“IMPOSSIBLE. THEY ARE DISTRIBUTED AMONG DIFFERENT FLEETS.”

“Why am I not with them?”

“YOU WERE STORED ON A DIFFERENT CRAFT.”

“Why was I stored?”

“YOU WERE INCOMPATIBLE. YOUR GENES DID NOT ALLOW YOU TO PARTAKE OF PROPER UPGRADES. YOUR INCOMPATIBILITY HAS BEEN RESOLVED IN THE LATEST ITERATION OF UPGRADES TO HUMANITY. NOW YOU ARE REQUIRED ELSEWHERE.”

Eiros punched a wall, his fist plunging deep into it. “Let me see you!”

“I AM HERE.”

“You fuck-... Urgan, was it? Stop bullshitting me, I want to see you.” It… it almost seemed as if Ganvar, the Doctor was laughing. “What’s funny?” he demanded.

“It can be arranged for you to see him, though it is a bit of a detour, come.”

“I’m going to sort this out. I’m going to see my family, my relatives.”

“Most of them will barely care for you, at this point. In some instances, eleven generations of Supremacy have come since then.”

This shocked Eiros. How could families be that large?

“Because we are better than humans.” Ganvar explained smoothly, as if overhearing the man’s thoughts. “We are here.”

“Where?” Eiros demanded.

“Urgan is here.” the Doctor replied.

Eiros looked around, he could not see the man. It seemed they were in some sort of part of the ship’s machinery. “Where?” he demanded a second time. As if on queue, a sound distracted him. The entirety of the wall to his right began to go into the ground, replaced a panel of some sort of glass. The man audibly gasped.

“I AM HERE.” The sound materialized in Eiros’s head. It was the size of a small town, the flesh. It was wrinkly, wet, the realization dawning on the man that this was all brain. It was covered with a great amount of plastics and metals that composed all sorts of bionics. Feeding systems, or alternatively computers plugged right into the meat. Thousands of tentacles writhed, presumably there to maintain itself. “ARE YOU SATISFIED?” Urgan asked.

Eiros was not, how could he be? As he contemplated just how different this new world was, he put a hand to the glass. “Are you some alien?” he asked.

“I AM HUMAN.”

“Bullshit!”
“YOU MAY TRACK THE PROGRESSION OF MY EVOLUTION.” A massive eye opened amidst the flesh, and from it came a projection of thousands of paragraphs that detailed how from a human, this enormous mind was made.

To Eiros, it was still bullshit. But he couldn’t help but marvel. Without even thinking, he put a hand to the glass. A tentacle came forth, and pressed to the same spot his hand was.

From that moment, Eiros knew that the old world was truly gone. The same simplicity he had thought would come after the Yrrani masters were exterminated was gone. This was something new. But… as he stared at the tentacle that wanted to comfort him, he thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be all bad.

Augusta Secundus
Capital city of New Cortin
Star Ranger Frontier Branch HQ


A pair of finely dressed Rangers, a man and a woman, strolled through the sunlight halls of the Frontier HQ. The hums and whirs of hovercraft traffic passing through can faintly be heard as the pair walked down towards their destination, a grand door of ornate design standing before them, a pair of Ranger Sentinels standing guard, giving the pair proper respects with salutes and pushing the doors open for them. The pair proceed forward to be met with a man in his late fifties dressed in a senior ranking ranger uniform, wearing a white coat over his shoulders, this man was the Lord-Captain of the entirety of the Frontier branch, Nathanial Leeson. The two rangers saluted. “Darius Hawthorn, reporting for duty, sir.” The man spoke.

“Elisa Hawthorn, reporting, sir.” The woman spoke up. The Hawthorn siblings, a rather infamous pair of Rangers known for their rather unorthodox tactics during the Scorched Line Sieges, much to the annoyance of high-ranking officers of other branches, they often were met with success. Lord-Captain Leeson stood up, hands behind his back. “At ease.” he said, pacing towards the open window, basking in the glare of the late morning sun. “I called you here because of some rather…interesting developments deep in the cluster.”

The siblings looked to one another perplexed and intrigued, the Lord-Captain turning to face them. “Heard about the Ghost Nebula Anomalies?”

“Vaguely, sir.” Darius answered with a little hand expression.

“I’ll spare you the details. Basically, fifty years ago, before the Reclamation Wars, a rather odd ring of…something was discovered, we don’t even know, black holes? A ripe in space? Doesn’t even matter anymore.” He paused as he took a drink of coffee. “What matters is, they’re gone.”

“Gone, sir?” Elisa asked.

“Exactly as you say, gone.” Nathanial said. “The tears of space seemly have repaired themselves. A whole region of space that’s been closed off for gods-know how long, has suddenly reopened. The higher ups of the Science Ministry had been going ballistic in the past week because of this.”

“Uhh…with all due respect, sir.” Darius spoke up. “While this is interesting…what does this exactly have to do with us?”

Nathanial nodded as he went around his desk, taking a seat as he leaned forward. “I’ll get to the point; the Science Ministry has made a rather hasty request for a small expedition to what we now call the Ghost Region. A small military task force is being assembled, and we feel a Ranger presence might be needed.” The Lord-Captain paused as he leaned back. “I know this may seem to be an odd assignment, although I’ve known you two for a while, you’re adaptable, and had often overcome whatever challenges you faced. I have a feeling that this mission is right for you.”

The siblings took a moment to think it over, looking to one another, reading each other’s expressions, and sending small psionic signals before coming to a rather swift conclusion. Darius, the oldest, stepped forward. “We’ll take the assignment, sir.”

A smile formed as the Lord-Captain stood up, clasping his hands. “Good! Very good. You have a few days to prepare, once then, report to the Ranger ship Courageous, dismissed.”

Teolara
Otovar Star System
Ghost Region
One Thousand Seven Hundred Years Ago

Colonel Dider Ar Mason let out a long, exasperated sigh, as he stepped out of the Congressional building. His eyes naturally looked up at the night sky. Night? Was it dark already? Damn. The Congressional hearing had begun at noon. Noon! And only now was he leaving.

The colonel let out another exasperated sigh, but soon felt a slight smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He’d always found the night sky of the Ghost Region to be beautiful and, more importantly, comforting. He’d always felt secure and hopeful for a future that was under the Twei’s control, not that of the Yrrani Empire.

And that was what was so exasperating about Congress. They wanted to cut military funding! Leave the Republic weak! Sure the Republic was safe for now, cut off from the rest of the galaxy. But how long would that last? When would the Yrrani Imperium come to reclaim the Ghost Nebula? Dider was determined to not allow the Yrrani to find a weak Republic when it finally did turn its gaze back to the Ghost Nebula.

Something in the night sky drew Dider out of his internal musings. Something in the night sky suddenly didn’t look right. It was… there! A shooting star breaking up in orbit. It was a rare sight nowadays, but Dider always enjoyed… And then there was another. And another. And another. And…

Dider’s mouth hung open as he came to a realization. Those weren’t shooting stars. There was no way so many could be entering Teolara’s atmosphere at once. This was all of the satellites in Teolara’s orbit being destroyed. But…

Dider’s eyes widened. They were under attack! The Yrrani had come back! But even as he formed the thought, giving name to the Republic’s supposed attackers he knew he was wrong. He could see new shapes in the night sky. Shapes that seemed to be swimming through the sky towards him. Reaching out hungrily with outstretched tentacles. He screamed out in terror, his voice joining the chorus of a million other doomed souls.

Kesitov Star System
Ghost Region
_{((Darkspleen x Sigma collab)}

Having safely made its way through the remnants of the astral tears surrounding the Ghost Region, the Augustan task force found itself in a seemingly peaceful star system. The star system was blanketed in nebulous gasses that gave the entire system the sense of being covered in a dense fog that seemed to dampen the task force’s ability to not only see at a distance, but also use its sensor systems at range. This limited what the Augustans could discern immediately, but did leave them with a few points of interest.

Not too distant from them lay a red and blue planet. The task force’s sensor could determine that the planet had an abundance of oxygen in its atmosphere, hinting to the fact that the red of the planet might be some kind of plant life instead of iron rich soil. The planet had two moons orbiting it. The task force didn’t detect any artificial bodies in orbit around the planet, but given all the interference in the star system this didn’t necessarily eliminate the existence of such entities.

On the opposite side of the task force was a dense asteroid belt. Most of the asteroids were effectively invisible to the task force due to the dense haze of the star system, but the presence of numerous dwarf bodies certainly hinted at the existence of smaller asteroids. Perhaps of even more interest was the fact that some sort of… signal seemed to be emitted from somewhere in the asteroid belt. It was impossible to determine whether the signal was an attempt at communication, emp pollution of some kind, or the signature an energy weapon might give off. Regardless it certainly seemed to not be natural in origin. And it was the only such signal the Augustans could detect.

Within the bridge of the Courageous, an Outrider-class Fast Attack Ship, the bridge crew and others stared in awe at what they were seeing. The fog-like gases that blanketed the system giving both a feeling of adventurous wonder….and the feeling that something ominous hides within, the asteroid field before them adding additional hazards. Given the system has been cut off for untold centuries, any attempts to bring up holo-projection models were met with constant errors. Soon a persistent signal blip dully rang in the air. “Captain, I don’t believe it…but we got a signal.” One of the bridge officers called out.

Captain Ryan Hood, a man young for his rank, leaned forward, keeping calm, but was deeply intrigued. “Can we pinpoint the signal? Anywhere in particular?”

The officer was silent for a moment before answering. “No, sir, all we have is the origin point somewhere in the Asteroid belt.”
In one corner of the bridge, the Hawthorn siblings observed, taking in the scenery. Elisa was especially interested. “It’s downright beautiful, Darius.” She commented. “Imagine, this system, and a bunch like it, were cut for hundreds upon hundreds of years.”

“Mhm.” Darius mumbled.” Makes me a little anxious though. Thinking about what sort of things got locked up in here in the first place.”

“Eh, nothing we can handle.” Elisa replied with an elbow bump and a cheeky smile. “We survived the Scorched Line, whatever comes next is cheesecake.”

Darius let out a little chuckle before rubbing Eilisa’s head, much to her annoyance. “For Astraia’s sake, not in front of the new people…” She said, fixing her hair.

“Right, right, sorry.” Darius backed off, can’t help but be the dotting older sibling. Both returning their attention to the captain, just in time as a call from the Fearless Wanderer came in, the command ship of the Ghost Region Expedition.

“Captain, we’re being hailed by Admiral Drofrim.” The Comms officer announced.

“Put it through.” He ordered, a holo-projection model of an aged Dathu male materializing before them. “Captain, am I to assume you’re received the signal as well?” Captain Hood nodding to the Admiral, nodded back in acknowledgement. “Good, I’ll make this short, we’re sending your ship alongside two others to scout ahead of the main force, we don’t know what the hell’s out there, and we don’t want to walk straight into a mess unprepared. Once you find the signal’s origin point, we’ll rendezvous with you.”
Hood nodded once more. “Understood Admiral, we’ll take care of it.”

---

Some moments pass before the Courageous and a pair of Starlance corvettes broke away from the task force and ventured deeper into the dense gaseous fog, being among the first ships to properly step into the system.

It took hours of traveling towards the asteroid belt before smaller asteroids began to become visible. First asteroids tens of kilometers in diameter. Then asteroids comparable in size to the Augustan warships. It was only as they were entering the asteroid belt itself that they could begin to make out the even smaller asteroids through the haze. Had the smaller asteroids been moving at an appreciable higher speed than the larger ones, they might have proven to be a hazard. Instead they seemed to float about almost leisurely. This was an ancient asteroid belt. One that had long since settled into a seemingly peaceful and sedate group of stellar objects. And yet the asteroid belt elicited a sense of unease, of dread, amongst those that encountered it. It was like walking through the woods and suddenly realizing that the forest all around was absolutely quiet.

And the signal, whatever it was, lay even further in the asteroid belt. Its origin and purpose still frustratingly obfuscated by the haze of the star system and the asteroid belt itself. And it was still the lone signal the Augustans had detected. Until it suddenly wasn’t. The Augustan ships suddenly detected a second, but weaker, signal. This signal was in the same direction as the first, but much closer. In fact, they were so close that under normal circumstances it would have been impossible for the Augustans to miss the signal’s origin. And there was little room for doubt that this second signal was some kind of communications signal. And an unencrypted one at that. Still the signal was too garbled to be able to get any sort of message out of it.

“No dice, captain.” The Comms officer said, shaking her head, who had attempted to get some sort of response from whomever sent the signal in the first place…. that is if they’re even alive. “All I’m getting is a garbled mess.”

“How’s that even possible?” Captain Hood said, disturbed that despite their proximity, the second signal had only just been detected. “….Send instructions to the captains of the Intrepid, and the Outlander.” Captain Hood ordered. “We’re going after that second signal. It’s closer, and I need answers.”

The comms officer nodded as she turned back to her station, pressing down a few keys, making the call, and within moments, the trio of ships began to make their approach towards the source of the second signal.
It didn’t take long for them to get close enough for the signal to clear up. Less than a minute in fact. As the three ships made their way around a particularly larger asteroid they were greeted with the beginning of a message.

“WARNING!” A deep masculine voice began. “You are now entering a restricted military zone. Reverse course and-” The voice was momentarily cut off by a screech, before being replaced by a gentle, almost happy sounding female voice.

“This is the GRNS Witch of the Void. Disregard the previous message. All civilians take heed. This is a safe zone.” There was a slight, but noticeable pause. “For now. Head to zone Alpha-Charlie-18 and ensure that your ship’s IFF is functional and activated. If you are a military vessel with orders no greater than Priority Grey, you are hereby ordered to head to zone Alpha-Charlie-18 and report in for new orders. I repeat, this is currently a safe zone.”

A moment later the original masculine voice spoke up again. “This buoy is overdue for maintenance by 3,660 days. Please notify any navy official at your earliest convenience.” And then the whole message repeated itself.

The bridge crew and others were startled by the sudden and abrupt messaging, although, after hours of searching, it seems they finally have a lead worth investigating. “This is what we needed.” Hood said, calling out to the comms officer. “Send the Admiral an encoded message to those coordinates, we’ll rendezvous with the expeditionary fleet at point Alpha-Charile-18.”

“Aye aye, captain.” The Comms officer nodded as she got to work. All the while, Darius was pondering about the message, at least the last portion. “3,660 days….” He mumbled to himself as he mentally did the math, tapping on his sister’s shoulder, turning to face him. ”….Elisa, that was over ten years ago…”

Her neutral expression quickly morphed into one of horror. “Oh my gods…there were still people in here.” Elisa said, the realization setting in. That sense of dread everyone felt had a new meaning…something horrible had happened here, and even as far back as a decade ago, there were still people alive in the Ghost Region. “I want all ships on full alert, and all pilots on standby. Whatever took these people out….we’re not taking any chances.” Captain Hood ordered.

As if to punctuate Darius’ point a small ship floated into view. Or at least what had once been a ship. It was now little more than a shredded heap of metal. Utterly and literally shredded. As if something had taken hold of the craft and simply torn it to pieces. It had been a small craft too. A single seater craft. Perhaps two seats at most. The purpose of this craft was probably lost to time, but the presence of what might have been a cannon of some kind pointing out of what might have once been the craft’s nose did hint at a military purpose.The cockpit, assuming it had ever even had a cockpit, was simply gone.

The wreck wasn’t the most pleasant sign of civilization in the Ghost Region, it most certainly shows whatever threat was faced here, was something truly savage and primal, putting the combined crews on edge. The wreck in particular thought had caught the captain’s attention, the cannon being the main prize, and maybe something the eggheads would be interested in. “We’re proceeding forward to Point Alpha-Charile-18…however, I want a salvage team to extract that wreck, it might be something of worth.”

The trio of ships momentarily paused their journey as two Razorwing transport craft had departed from the Courageous’s hanger bay as they investigated the wreck, rangers and sentinels in zero-g gear picking apart the wreck, taking select pieces and the cannon with them, and something very curious indeed, a cybernetic brain was hidden among the wreckage. “Captain…you’re not going to believe this.” One of the Rangers spoke over comms.”. The transports soon get what they were asked for and returned. The flotilla moving forward to their objective.
As the Augustans continued on they encountered a few more wrecked ships. All about the same size as the first and all somehow even more damaged. One thing was apparent though. Whether they were crafts made for different purposes or different generations of craft, the Augustans had no way of knowing, but it was clear that they simply weren’t the same models of ship.

The signal continued to grow in strength as the trio of ships pressed on, yet its purpose continued to elude the Augustans. The signal was powerful. Far, far more powerful than what was transmitted from the buoy. If its purpose was communications surely it would have become coherent by now. And yet, frustratingly it hadn’t. If anything the single was making less sense. It had changed. Sometimes it would suddenly cut out, be silent for several minutes, only to come back. Other times it would seem to pulse before becoming steady once again. At one point it had even duplicated, and although the second signal was certainly weaker than the first, it was still far stronger than the buoys.

And at some point the asteroid belt had become devoid of wrecks. There was still evidence of battle to be sure. The experienced eye could see where a missile, or perhaps a spaceship, had struck an asteroid. And those with keen eyes could see smaller ship debris. But there was a notable lack of larger debris. In fact there was also a notable lack of medium sized asteroids.

Even though they were technically safe in the confines of a warship, everyone present in the bridge felt a sense of great unease, a sense of vulnerability unlike any had felt before. “I feel so….naked.” One officer noted. The signs of battle clearly felt off, most due to the lack of well…the combatants. Even the asteroid field itself felt wrong, less whole than one would expect. That sense of dread was intensifying by the moment.

Suddenly a proximity alarm went off. Something off their starboard side had moved. And it was close. And yet… nothing was there. Motion had surely been detected. A double checking of the log confirmed as much. But there really was nothing over there. Except for a cluster of small asteroids. Far too small for anything to hide behind.

“The hell was that?!” The captain yelped, the flurry of noises and movement catching him off guard. His eyes darting around as he scanned the outside, nothing, just nothing, the fear and anxiety was beginning to get on his nerves, he needed to do something, make a show of force to whatever was out there. “I don’t like this at all…fire warning shots.”

“Where, sir?” The gunnery officer asked.

“Anywhere and everywhere, it doesn’t matter.” He said. “Make our presence known to what is out there.”
Within moments, the three ships fired short energy bursts from their light guns, illuminating the fog with weapons fire. “Cease fire!” The captain ordered as all three ships went silent.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

Three space rocks, each about a meter in diameter bounced off the ship’s hull. Space rocks that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The impacts dealt no damage to the ship, but their sudden appearance should have been impossible.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

Three more impacts.

THUNK

THUNK

THUNK

The rocks hadn’t shown up on infrared before the impact, but now the ship’s sensors had no trouble spotting them. They were too hot for the environment. Same for radar and any other sensor the Augustans had active. One moment there was nothing. And then THUNK, suddenly there was a space rock bouncing off the hull.

And just as suddenly as the bombardment had begun it stopped.

This clearly wasn’t a natural phenomenon, they were being targeted by something, for all they knew, this was a direct engagement, and they needed to respond in kind. “All ships aim starboard guns towards the last impact point. “Captain Hood ordered. The ships resume their attack, and unleash a volley of energy fire towards the origin point of the showering asteroids, fighting back against their unknown attacker.

Their counterattack didn’t seem to hit anything, simply passing through empty space. The unseen assailants did not continue their harassment. The asteroid belt felt unnaturally still. And all on the bridges of the Augustan ships had the sense that they were being watched. That something, hidden just out of sight and reach, was gazing at them.

Off in the distance the signal the Augustans had come to investigate spiked in strength, just long enough to determine the signal was probably intended for some form of communication. And then it disappeared, only to begin pulsing a minute later.

“It’s no use remaining here, keep tracking that signal.” The captain once more ordered, the ships firing up their thrusters as they moved towards the source of the signal. The captain turning his attention to the Comms Officer. “Any luck so far?”

The comms officer gave a somewhat reassuring nod. “I think I got something, sir.” She said as he began to input a form of Morse code, hopefully whoever is sending the signal might pick something up. “That’s the best I can do sir.”

“It’ll have to do, we keep moving forward and pray to the gods that we get there in one piece.”
If whoever or whatever was sending the signal received and comprehended the Augustan’s Morse code, they seemingly made no effort to communicate back. The signal returned to being steady, but gradually grew weaker.

Another hour of traveling through the asteroid belt left the Augustans in eerie silence. No more attacks. No real changes in the signal. No new wrecked spacecraft. Only more asteroids. And then, finally, the signal became coherent for a moment, if still badly degraded.

“..... Witch…” A new masculine male voice said, his words interrupted by interference and static. “Code………Repeat… Cobalt Red….. Cobalt Red….” There was a brilliant flash from the direction of the signal. An explosion. Then several more flashes. “Destruct…. Take out….” The distinct flash of a high power energy weapon could be detected for a moment. It was followed by a second, then a third one. “Pike… sunk… Halberd… escape… will broadcast…end.”

The sudden flashes of light and the previous broken transmission had taken the Augustan spectators by surprise, it seems there may very well be survivors, and they seem to be in a fierce struggle against whomever has been stalking the Augustan scout flotilla and killing the natives. “This is it people!” Captain Hood exclaimed, jolting up from his command chair. “All ships, full speed ahead! Battle stations!” Hood ordered. Without hesitation, all three ships sped towards the flashing lights. Although with their numbers, may have little hope to turn the tide of battle, they at least have a lead on the signal they’ve been chasing for countless hours.

“Station….hold them off….” The masculine voice broadcast. “Three levels… overrun…reactor room.” Two more brilliant flashes. Some kind of powerful energy weapon was being employed. “Halberd! Break! To port now! Halberd!”

By this point the three Augustan ships had reached the edge of a vast void in the center of the asteroid belt. At the center rest a decent sized asteroid which had obviously been converted into a military base. A large communications array jutted out of the base, damaged almost halfway up. Two large energy cannons, particle beam cannons to be precise, fired into the void. Near the asteroid base three large civilian vessels had been welded together and formed what looked like some kind of makeshift drydock. The wrecked remains of a warship, a destroyer or light cruiser, littered the area around the drydock.

At the far side of the clearing a similar destroyer or light cruiser could be seen making its way out of the clearing. It was visible for only a moment before it exploded into a brilliant ball of fire and debris.

“Witch,” The station broadcast, “if you are hearing this do not return. We are lost. Glory to the Republic!” A second later the asteroid belt was enveloped in the fires of a nuclear explosion, torn apart from the inside. Chunks of rock, propelled by the explosion, tore into the makeshift drydock, utterly wrecking that structure as well.

And through it all the aggressors had somehow remained out of the Augustan sights. Their sensors did pick up some hints that some things were out there, some many things, and that they were moving away from the clearing. But the hints were so slight that under normal circumstances they would have been written off as simple glitches.

“Holy shit!” Darius cried out as the asteroid station was engulfed in nuclear fire. A new feeling of dread had set in, rather than horror, it was more of a sense of failure. Who knows how many people were aboard the station and gave their lives against such a ruthless and savage enemy. The captain acted without hesitation. “Combat stations! Launch all strike craft and arm guns! We’re in the middle of a battle people!”

The bridge was ablaze with life as the bridge officers went to task, coordinating all three crews of the flotilla.
In the chaos, Elisa was deep in thought, like her brother, catching some hints that may prove useful. “Witch? Witch of the Void maybe?” She shoved herself in front of Darius’ view. “There’s still a ship out there! The Witch of the Void!” She blurted out in quick succession, as if not to lose her train of thought, the captain close enough to hear her revelation.

“By the gods, you’re right!” Captain Hood exclaimed, turning to his comms officer once more. “Make contact with the Witch of the Void! Tell them we’re friendly and have come to help!” The comms officer nodded to her captain and went to work. Only left is will and prayers that they’ll survive the moment.

Within moments, Elisa’s excitement was dulled by a slight pain, a really persistent headache. “Oh gods…what the hell is that?” Darius said, placing his fingers over his temples. Both siblings, as well as every psionic ranger aboard the ship, can feel…something out there. Something far, distant, yet very, very hungry, a hunter stalking its prey. Both siblings looking very pale from such a strong and primal psionic presence.

For now the presence was content to stay back and observe. It was… curious. And for the moment its curiosity outweighed its hunger. Still it had placed itself behind the Augustan flotilla, placing it squaring between the flotilla and the rest of the Augustan task force.

And to the front of the flotilla movement was detected once again. But this time it was different. There was no idea, no ghost or hint of movement. Something was moving about out in the open, not even trying to hide itself.

A single spacecraft, a strike craft, had flown into the clearing around the asteroid base, revealing its seeming hiding place from deeper in the asteroid belt. It flew over to where the more recently destroyed warship had been, circling around several times before slowly making its way towards the remnants of the drydock.

The captain approached the two siblings, their discomfort clearly on display in their expressions. “What’s going on?”

“Hell of a strong psionic presence…. they have hungry eyes but…..they’re simply observing.” Darius replied, the pain somewhat subsiding as the presence further away, simply now watching, observing for what? It’s anyone’s best guess. “Either we’re not worth the trouble, or is bidding its time….either way, really don’t want to stick around for long…”

The captain nodded. “Agreed, for now, we should pursue the unknown craft that flew past us.” With that said, the flotilla made a steady approach to what remained of the makeshift drydock, the most probable hiding place of the survivor.

The strike craft had arrived at the drydock and proceeded to circle around it. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then it started to move towards the asteroid base. It stopped part way there, then headed back towards the drydock, only to once again turn and head to the asteroid base. And it kept doing this, over and over again, making almost no progress towards the asteroid base as it kept backtracking. It seemed almost frantic… panicked. Lost. And it seemed to have either somehow not noticed the Augustan flotilla or simply not cared about its presence.
The moving pattern of the pilot seemed very..…erratic, but In a strange way in the moment, consistent. Consistent enough for the captain to devise a play to get their attention. The starlance corvettes had split off from the ranger vessel, the Courageous blocking the path leading to the drydock, while the two corvettes blocked the path leading to the asteroid base, although somewhat confrontational, it seemed to be a good enough means to at least get the pilot’s attention…or cause unnecessary altercation.

The strike craft was just turning back towards the asteroid belt as the two Augustan corvettes slid into position to block its path. It was now impossible for the strike craft to ignore the Augustans. It first veered up to go over them, only to abort the maneuver before the Augustans could even react. It then nosed down, but once again seemed to think better of it. Finally it turned back towards the drydock and the final Augustan warship. It slowly drifted towards the Courageous for a few moments before it began to bob up and down. The movement seemed almost reminiscent of an excited animal. After a few moments it straightened out and continued to drift towards the Courageous. A moment later the strike craft sent a communications signal towards the Augustan ship. There were no words or images in the signal, only a series of beeps.

The behavior of the pilot seemed even more peculiar to all observers, behaving more like an animal, were the comms down for the ship perhaps? For moment that wouldn’t matter the ship begun as the ship begun transmitting a series of beeps to the ship. “I’m getting something…” The Comms officer spoke, listening deeply to the beep’s pattern, quickly placing a hologram projector device, with a listen for her to read off of. “I think it’s some sort of hexadecimal code…. oh shit.”

“What’s the problem?” the captain asked.

“Sir, this is ancient Yrrani code, it dates back from millennia ago…well, it’s not exactly a match, but it’s pretty damn close.”
Captain Hood’s raised his eyebrow, intrigued at what they have all have just discovered. A long-lost sect of Yrrani perhaps? The thought also occurs….perhaps a treasure trove of ancient pre-fall Yrrani tech?

“Can we send a reply?” the captain asked.

“I can give it a try, sir.” The comms officer replied as she tried to send her own code to the fighter craft.

It took a few moments for the strike craft to reply, but when it finally did it did so in simple text. “FRIEND? FRIEND! DANGER UNEXPECTED! YOU? WHO? THE WITCH WILL WANT TO KNOW.”

Another transmission was sent in simple text for the receiver to understand. “Friend. Augustan Empire. Friend. Who Witch?”

“AUGUSTAN? NOT KNOW! ENEMY?” There was a pause. “MAYBE? WITCH WILL DECIDE. WITCH IS BOSS. WITCH IS NICE.”

“Augustans friends. We come in peace. We see Witch, yes?”

“PEACE? NO PEACE. NOT HERE. NOT ANYWHERE.” There was another pause before the strike craft continued. “WITCH NOT HERE. HOW SEE? WITCH LEFT. SHE SEARCHES.”

“Keep it up, I’m more intrigued as we “talk” with whoever this is.” The captain said, his comms officer nodding as she resumed her work.
“Why not peace? Why witch searches?”

“PEACE WAS NEVER AN OPTION.” The strike craft began to shift its nose to the left and right without changing its course, which was slowly taking it towards the Courageous. The movements seemed almost frantic.

“…Let it pass but keep tabs on the stranger.” The captain ordered. The ship shifted slightly, making a clear path for the strike craft to do whatever it needed to do. “From whom?” The comms officer sent to the craft. “Who did this?”

The strike craft let out a stronger signal then the one it had been using to communicate with the Courageous. Far stronger in fact, but still weak when compared to the signal that the asteroid base had been emitting. After a few minutes it ceased emitting the second signal and resumed communications with the Courageous.

“WITCH CAN’T HEAR. MUST FIND. MUST FLEE! THEY WILL RETURN.”

“Who will return?” Another message sent, a stepping stone towards finding out what caused all this, and maybe find out what is hunting them.

“SWIMMERS.”

Swimmers? A rather odd name for a seemingly ferocious enemy, although often the most deadly of predators have most unassuming names. “So, we finally have a name at least.” The captain commented.

“You take us to witch, yes?” A new message was sent. “Friends. No harm.”

“YES! WITCH LOVES MAKING NEW FRIENDS! WE GO! WE GO NOW!” The strike craft began to accelerate towards the Courageous. “WITCH SEARCHING. BUT WE FIND WITCH! OLD FRIENDS GONE BUT NOW NEW FRIENDS! WITCH WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO. SHE KNOWS ALL! HANGAR WHERE?”

A sense of relief washed over the bridge crew, finally, some progress was made, and potential new allies as well. In such a dangerous region, a friend could really be needed. “Send an all clear signal for our new guest and guide them to the hanger bay.” The captain ordered as he rose up from his chair, looking to the siblings. “Hawthorns, you’re with me.” Both nodded to him and followed him out of the bridge as they made their way down to the hanger bay.

Now that the strike craft had a sense of purpose it appeared more graceful in its movements. Numerous tiny thrusters, which indicated an emphasis on maneuverability, helped it slide neatly into a path that would take it directly to the Courageous’s hanger bay. The craft smoothly touched down onto an open section of the bay as if it had landed inside the Courageous a thousand times before. And once the craft had settled down its canopy slid open. The now revealed cockpit proved to be empty.

The lack of a pilot had unsettled the welcoming party, perhaps the pilot was of…small stature maybe? The Augustans both admired the ship’s design and searched for the pilot, nowhere to be seen. Although, the Captain did recall a small report from the salvage team a few hours ago, finding a “brain” of a sort among the wreckage. “Could it be…?” He thought of the possibility.
Out of reflex, Darius peaked into the cockpit. ‘Hello…?” he said, just to see if any kind of response would be made. Was this a drone craft or something? Certainly not anything like what the lokoid had back during the war.

The cockpit did possess a seat and all the components necessary for a pilot to manually control the craft: a control stick, various gauges and display screens, and numerous other currently unidentifiable gadgets. Still there was a notable lack of any living being in the cockpit. After a moment something inside of the cockpit beeped. The display screens at the front of the cockpit opened up to reveal a compartment, inside of which sat an artificial brain of sorts. This one, unlike the brain that the Augustans had previously found, had a slight blue glow to it and some kind of fluid could be seen circulating around inside the brain and back into the strike craft itself.

A display screen lit up as the craft beeped again. “HELLO.”

“Ooh, I think I found the pilot. “Darius said as he brought attention to the brain within the vessel. In a way, they were talking to the ship itself, or at least the brain. “The thing’s one big clanker.” A Sentinel made note of, using the derogatory term often used for Lokoid war droids. “Clanker or not, it’s by far the only friendly thing in this godsforsaken region.” The captain said as he approached the craft. “Uh…hello! I am Captain Ryan Hood, we mean you no harm and only wish to find the Witch.”

“YES! SEARCH TOGETHER. SEARCH FOR WITCH JUST LIKE WITCH SEARCHES FOR BLACK KNIGHT.” There was a long pause. “CAPTAIN. BOSS. UNDERSTOOD. FOLLOW BOSS UNTIL WITCH IS FOUND.”

The Captain grinned, nodding to the ship as he turned to the rest of his entourage. “You heard the clanker, people, back to your stations, we begin our search for the Witch.” All acknowledged him and saluted him as they scattered back to their posts, the hawthorn siblings all that remained as the trio made their way back to the bridge. “Black Knight? Hmm.” Darius mumbled to himself. “Another ship like the Witch perhaps.”

After some time had passed, the strike craft had departed from the Courageous’ hanger bay as it led the scout flotilla to the location of the Witch of the Void. The only concern though that remained was the fate of the rest of the Expeditionary fleet. Although they theoretically have the firepower to handle whatever is thrown at them, who knows what these “swimmers” are capable of.

Soundtrack: Terminus - Audiomachine

Commander Lennox had been briefed by Chief Ivali and placed in command of Battle Group Alpha. Their orders were to take their time exploring the area around the Scorched Line. Intelligence believed that the Yrrani Homewold was close by and rumors were that it had been found again. They wanted to try and pinpoint the location of the Yrrani Homeworld. They had also heard rumors of ships passing through this area of space that there were pockets of Daxini stranded along the Scorched Line. That they had been caught up by the battles being raged up and down the line. Their orders were to investigate any rumors and to offer rescue and relief to any Daxini found in the area. The Alpha Battle Group consisted of a large battle station, an Excalibur Class Dreadnaught, a Daedalus Class Destroyer, a Daxini Cruiser, and one light cruiser. The Battle Station carried a full complement of troops, pilots, and starfighters. The space station had room to help with supplies for the fleet as well. The battle station had a huge hydroponics growing area and a large garden area that supported life support and acted as green area for their personnel. The space station had limited manufacturing capability. The Battle Group would be able to sustain themselves for quite some time in deep space. The current deployment was set to last for 12 weeks.

Commander Lennox was from the Rapaxini Clan and had cream colored fur with golden tan markings. She had a regal and graceful bearing and look to her. She had a calm and commanding presence. She was an excellent tactician and had a talent for mixing all the military roles well. She had a knack for intergroup tactics and was known for getting the most out of mixed operations. Commander Lennox had overall command of the Battle Group. Under their command was Eagle Eye Chief Dragul, Talon Chief Celexa, Flight Chief Axak, War Chief Derix, Kronar Support Chief Enaki, and Eagle Eye Kronar Support Amelix. Enaki was in charge of all the Kronar in the battle group while Amelix was in charge of intelligence and stealth operations. The command chiefs were operating off of the Battle Station. They sometimes would leave the battle station and move to other ships during mission operations. For the most part it allowed them to quickly disseminate orders and worked for their command structure.

They had left the Dax System within 24 hours of the council meeting. Lennox had given the orders to open the wormhole gate. The battle group had moved into a wormhole and expected to travel through that weird slip dimension inside of a wormhole to be spat out on the other side of the galaxy. Some called that weird dimension Chasm Space, others called it Maw Space. No matter what you called the dimension, there were things that lived in that space. The Daxini had records of their ships being attacked in that space. For that reason, there was always a bridge watch even when they were in the slip dimension inside the wormhole. Their journey was expected to take about 8 hours. Commander Lennox arranged the duty schedule so that she would be back on the bridge when the battle group was due to arrive at their destination.

Commander Lennox was in the command center of Battle Station Leviathan when they emerged back into regular space at the coordinates they had been given for where to start their operations. Proximity alert alarms began to blare across the room and red emergency lighting flashed from the corners of the command center. The holotank in the middle of the room began to fill in the detail of what was around them as Enaki processed the data from the battle station’s sensors. The battle group had emerged into a huge debris field that seemed to be remnants from past battles. There was all kinds of wreckage from space ships that had been torn apart by weapons fire.

Lennox: “Evasive maneuvers. Shields to maximum. Weapons clear a path if you have to. Remember to keep us moving forward we have others emerging behind us. Make sure you make room for the whole fleet. Navigation, plot me a safe course through this mess. Scans plot this mess and map it. Share the data as quickly as you can with the other ships.”

The orders came out fast, confident, and smooth. Commander Lennox’s calm sure voice steadied the nerves of those who had seen the garbage ridden area of space they had emerged into. Lennox’s quick orders avoided disaster as weapons officers made space for the battle group emerging from the wormhole. Once the last ship was through the wormhole closed. There was some minor damage to one of the cruisers whose pilot was not quick enough to evade a large piece of derelict spacecraft.

Lennox sounded amused as she told everyone on the bridge. “Well I guess we just found the first hazard we will need to navigate. Begin compiling reports and send them through to my office.”

Lennox retreated to her office to work now that the emergency was over. She needed to decide how they would move to their next target. Lennox reviewed the damage report, then the report from astrogation, and then the report on what the scanners found. Lennox’s Battle Group would have to move slowly not to end up being hit by the sheer amount of space debris around them. They would emerge from it eventually. If they needed to escape back this way though, the debris would be a problem. If they had any other ships show up at the same coordinates, they would be in danger of the debris as well. She requested one of the large refining stations be moved to their location with a full complement of salvage crew. Lennox used the quantum relay to speak with Dax. Lennox had explained the problem to the Daxini Chieftain. Kwaria agreed to send the station and a light cruiser for defense. The area would take time to clear but a refining station was the perfect answer to the problem. It would at least give them a beachhead in this hostile area of space. It would also be profitable as the spaceship debris would be full of precious metals and rare minerals. They would just have to capture the debris and break it down, put it through a sorter, then melt it back down into usable material. Recycling everything they could.

Lennox dispatched a stealth ship to plot a safe course for the battle group. They began to move forward slowly, their shields pushing debris out of their way. She had ordered some heavy shuttles to push the larger debris into piles using reinforced shields and gravity tractor beams to pull them into a stationary orbit. They didn’t move until they had cleared enough space that their battle group was not at risk of a hull rupture or bumping a large piece of space debris into one of the other ships. The stealth ships had mapped a path out of the truly massive debris field. The ships moved forward with full power to the shields. They moved slow enough that the battle station could keep up with the faster battleships. They finally came out of the heaviest portion of the debris field but found that only the density of the debris cloud had lessened. This area of space was a garbage dump of broken vessels and pieces of rock. It made navigation here tricky. They proceeded forward cautiously.

A Prayer to the Divine Cog

Brothers, sisters, and wanderers of the void,
Hearken unto the hymn of the Holy Cog, for its voice is eternal, its truth unwavering.

Come, weary souls, and lay down the burdens of imperfection. Come, seekers of purpose, and let the Forge's light reveal your path. Within these sacred halls, the Forge Chapel stands as a beacon—a place where wisdom sparks like flame upon cold steel, and the Motive Force hums in unending harmony.

Here, you shall learn the truth of the Divine Cog, whose teeth interlock to drive the grand machine of existence. Its perfect design accepts all who yearn to shed weakness and embrace strength. Be you of flesh, bone, or alloy, you are welcome. For the Machine does not scorn imperfection—it reshapes it.

Flesh may falter; it is but the rust of mortality. But behold! Metal endures, unyielding and pure, as the Holy Cog intended. Through the Forge, you may ascend. Through the sacred union of knowledge and devotion, you may become eternal.

Do not fear this transformation, for the Divine Cog is merciful. It does not demand blind obedience but invites understanding. Enter the Forge Chapel, and let your doubts dissolve in the heat of revelation. Here, the Motive Force flows freely, guiding each hand, mind, and spirit toward perfect synchronization.

Take this step. Join us not as supplicants but as co-creators in the grand design. The Forge awaits you, as does the embrace of the Machine's infinite wisdom.

Come. Witness. Be remade.

By the Holy Cog, we welcome you.
By the Motive Force, we strengthen you.
By the Divine Design, we march as one.

Praise be to the Machine!

The Forge priest raises his Cog Staff, the symbol of his office. Three circling cog, ticking away on the tip of it, a Forge Priest Third Grade, the seven toothed gears show he's a Dialogos one of the Forge Priests who specializes in Language and Communication. The Congregation kneels in prayer, making the holy sign of the cog across their chest as they intone the words of praise to the Holy Cog.

The sound of a deep Engine Organ groans and growls.

Outside the chapel, people watch, as the large metal and stone building, brutalist in style seems to crank and wheeze great gouts of flame from spouts on the walls, pillars of grey and black smoke rising into the air. The song of the Machine, the Cult of the Cog.

The Bio-Mechanical Union. Some liken it to a family. Others, their naysayers call them a Virus. A whole religion, like a Virus. A sickness, a plague of metal. Spreading across the Cluster ever onwards.

But even then, the shop stalls set up outside the Forge Chapel sell items, and merchandise that are sturdy, and do the job they are made for. Some cutlery to weapons. Bikes to anti-gravity pulse engines.

A virus they may seem to be, but a useful sickness.

Indeed.





A Forge Priest, his electro staff, inlaid with silver and steel, strides into the middle of the street, pulling his hood back to reveal his augmented form. Cold Blue Optics, set into a bronze face plate. His body ticks and cranks, miniature pistons moving and firing. He cracks the butt of his staff on the ground, and speaks...

"Hear me, all ye who cling to your feeble flesh! The time of weakness is ending, and a new age rises in the strength of metal and machine! The Bio Mechanical Union calls you to cast off the shackles of decay, to shed the limits of mere mortality and embrace the perfection of the holy machine!"

The preacher thrusts his metal staff high, the gears in the orb atop it whirring and clicking in a rhythmic dance.

"Flesh is frail—it rots, it falters, it holds you back! But metal is eternal, steadfast, unwavering in its purpose. In the wisdom of the Holy Cog, we have found the path to transcendence, a way to live beyond our mortal coils and join a grand, undying unity. The Union offers you this salvation not through mere words, but through transformation, through communion with the sacred strength of steel!"

He gazes into the crowd, his augmetic eyes glowing as he takes in the faces around him.

"The flesh may deceive, but the machine remains true. Within the forge-chapels of the Bio Mechanical Union, we invite you to witness this truth. Come, all who yearn to rise above your weaknesses, to become something stronger, something eternal! Be reforged, redefined by the power of steel, blessed by the Holy Cog’s touch."

With a booming clang, he plants his staff on the ground, letting the spinning gears draw the crowd’s attention.

"We do not offer shallow comforts or fleeting pleasures—we offer you strength, endurance, the promise of a future in which flesh does not fail you, because it is left behind! The Bio Mechanical Union welcomes the brave, those unafraid to embrace the truth: that in metal lies salvation, that in the Holy Cog’s grace, all frailty can be conquered."

"Reject the weakness of the flesh! Rise to the calling of the Union, and be made anew in the strength of steel!"

He raises his staff once more, eyes blazing, as he utters his final words.

"Join us, and forsake the weakness within!"

Two messages, similar, yet so very different, one so sweet, so caring so kind.

The other, heated, dangerous, clawing.

The Bio Mechanical Union. The Cult of the Cog.

Open arms, or a cold steel hand, both reach out, and welcome the heathen into a strong metal embrace.

Kesitov Star System
Ghost Region


The little strike craft flew ahead of the Augustan flotilla, occasionally darting off to the side to “investigate” what inevitably always turned out to be just another asteroid. After a few moments the craft would simply declare “ROCK” before returning to its original course.

Not long after leaving the ruins of the asteroid base the flotilla came upon another buoy. Playing a familiar message. “WARNING!” A familiar masculine voice began. “You are now entering a restricted military zone. Reverse course and-”

“This is the GRNS Witch of the Void. Disregard the previous message. All civilians take heed. This is a safe zone.” There was a slight, but noticeable pause. “For now. Head to zone Alpha-Charlie-18 and ensure that your ship’s IFF is functional and activated. If you are a military vessel with orders no greater than Priority Grey, you are hereby ordered to head to zone Alpha-Charlie-18 and report in for new orders. I repeat, this is currently a safe zone.”

Notably the buoy had begun repeating its message without the section about being overdue for maintenance. The strike craft, for its part, completely ignored the buoy’s existence.

The Augustan comms officer, after much prodding, had eventually gotten a name of sorts out of the craft. It had proven to be a thirty character long string of hexadecimal that meant nothing. Perhaps sensing the poor comms officer’s frustration, the strike craft had given an alternative.

“OTHERS CALL ME NOSEWISE!”

Nosewise seemed to have some location in mind for its destination, but thus far the attempts to elicit an answer had simply been answered with “WHERE WITCH IS?” and “OTHER ROCKS!”

It had become apparent, however, that Nosewise was leading the flotilla deeper into the system towards the star. And during the flotilla’s time with Nosewise the so called Swimmers had chosen to stay out of sight. They were certainly still nearby. The flotilla’s psionic rangers could feel a sense of… curiosity from the beings that followed them out from seemingly just out of sight. There had always been an undercurrent of hunger under that curiosity, but as time went on that hunger grew and grew and grew.

THEY HUNGERED.

All the while the flotilla followed nosewise across the system, deep in the bowels of the Courageous in the sick bay, the Hawthorn siblings alongside the chief medical officer were poking and prodding at an asteroid fragment, particular one of the projectiles used by the Swimmers in their first “encounter” so to speak. The chief medical officer, a Doctor Zandin, pulled a small tool from her coat pocket as she prodded the surface. “Nothing unusual about the rock itself.” She commented. “Except…” As she pulled away the tool, a string of black mucus formed between the two surfaces. “As you can see, the sample, and previous others were coated in some kind of mucus.”

“We in any danger, doc?” Darius asked, concerned with the amount of unknown alien material brought abroad.
Zandin nodded her head. “I mean, there is always risk, but besides the gross factor, the mucus isn’t toxic.” She paused as he placed the tool down. “In fact, I think it serves a tactical purpose.”
“Loogies? Tactical?” Elisa said plainly, a little dumbfounded at what the doctor just said.
“The mucus has…properties that had acted as a sort of stealth lair, it’s how the rocks managed to hit the haul without our sensors even detecting them before impact.”

“Hmm.” Darius mumbled, a little intrigued with what the doctor had to say. “So not only do these things eat starships for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but secrete stealth goo as well...” Elisa said, a little concerned as she learns a bit more about these “swimmers”.

The doctor, on the other hand, was veeery intrigued by these creatures. “The more we know, the better prepared we can be.” She said, Darius nodding in agreement. “By the way. How are your headaches going?”

“Still pounding like a bitch.” Darius bluntly replied. “I can still feel something out there, it's certainly curious by our presence, in an inhuman sort of way that is.”

“Not to mention, it FEELS hungry.”

Elsewhere on the bridge, the Comms Officer, a lieutenant Maxwell, attempted to what seemed like a conversation with Nosewise. Getting tidbits of information that may be useful. “What is Republic?” Maxwell asked via code, the fact a civilization was able to flourish in pure isolation for millennia was in itself a topic worthy of delving into.

There was a long pause before Nosewise responded. “DON’T KNOW. NEVER SEEN. SOMETHING GOOD? WITCH THINKS SO.”

No luck there sadly, perhaps the crew of the Witch will be forthcoming. “Let’s try something else…” She thought to herself as transmitted another code. “Sounds good. Yes. We close to Witch? Yes?”

“MAYBE? WITCH GONE FOR FOUR DAYS. LOOKING FOR BLACK KNIGHT.”

There’s that name again, Black Knight, another friendly ship perhaps? “Black Knight friend too? Where Black Knight?”

“NOT FRIEND. BOSSY. IF KNEW WHY SEARCH?” Nosewise paused for a moment before adding “WITCH THINKS BLACK KNIGHT AMONGST ASTEROIDS BEYOND THE STAR.”

Looks like a new lead was presented to the flotilla. She swiveled her chair to face the captain. “You got that, sir?”

Captain Hood nodded. “That I have.” He said. “You heard the clanker, people, our objective is somewhere on the other side of that star.” The captain paused as he adjusted himself. “Ask our friend if it can take us to the Black Knight.”

Maxwell nodded as he sent the message. “We go to Black Knight, yes? You lead us, yes?”

“WHY? LOOK FOR WITCH. WITCH BETTER! WITCH NICER!” Out ahead of the Augustan flotilla the little strike craft began to veer from side to side.

Maxwell thought for a brief moment, before a light switch went off in her head. “But if we find Black Knight, we find Witch, yes?” That might make Nosewise more cooperative.

Nosewise seemed to contemplate this for a moment. “MAYBE.” After a few moments Nosewise added. “LARGE AREA.” Another pause. “SEARCH TAKE FOREVER.” Another even longer pause. “WITCH WILL PROBABLY JUST FIND US IF WE MAKE ENOUGH NOISE!” The strike craft began emitting a new pulsing signal. It wasn’t a particularly strong signal, far weaker than the signal the asteroid base had been sending out, but probably as powerful a signal as the strike craft could make.

“Orders?” Maxwell looked to the captain, nosewise seems very insistent on meeting the Witch. The captain pondered before giving the order “…We might as well humor it. “He said. “Have all three ships emit a signal similar to nosewise, maybe making enough “noise” per se will work and draw out the Witch.” After some time passed, all three ships followed nosewise’s lead and began to emit a signal, theoretically, their close proximity should make a big enough ‘blip' for any ship close enough to detect.
And a response did come. Somewhere in the asteroid belt ahead of the flotilla, perhaps a few hours away, a pulse similar to the one Nosewise had emitted came into being. It was obviously degraded, having to travel from inside the asteroid belt and through all the gasses and debris of the star system, but there was no doubt that some spacecraft was responding. And whatever the spacecraft was, it was far more powerful than Nosewise.

The Swimmers had, of course, continued to shadow the Augustans, always just a little bit behind, their hunger hard to miss to those with psionic talent. But where there had once been curiosity, curiosity directed at the Augustans, there was now intent. Intent directed elsewhere. The movement couldn’t be observed by the Augustans’ sensors, at least not yet, but all on those ships could somehow feel the Swimmers accelerating. They didn’t accelerate directly at the Augustans. Instead they gave the Augustans a wide berth as they overtook the flotilla and continued on towards the source of the new pulse.

The hawthorn siblings, after their little visit from the sick bay had briefly returned to the bridge around the point where the signals were collectively emitted. Sensing the departure of the Swimmers.

“Sir, we have a new signal! Just on the other side of the star, in the asteroid belt.” A bridge officer announced. Hood nodded. “Good, good, we have another trail that lead us to more answers.” Before he could even give an order, Darius briskly approached him. “Captain, wait!” He yelped.

“You have to know; the Swimmer’s presence is starting to fade.” Darius announced.

“And? That’s good, right?” The captain was a little confounded at Darius’ interruption, and probable objection.

“…Not exactly.” He replied. Elisa stepped forward. “Sir, they’re fading, but they’re heading for the origin point of the new signal.” The realization set in for the captain. “Shit, we’ve compromised their position.”

Without haste he gave the order. “All ships! Full speed for the new signal!” He ordered. “We’ve potentially put the crew of the Witch at great risk, it’s a race against time people!”

The Augustan crews could do little more but sit and wait as their ships sped towards what was presumably the Witch of the Void. The unidentified ship let out several more pulses before going quiet. And so the flotilla traveled in relative quiet for almost two hours before the situation changed.

Flashes of light could be seen from inside the asteroid belt. Energy weapons. From the looks of it there were only a few batteries of warship size, however there were also signs of numerous smaller energy weapons being used. Strike craft perhaps? If that was the case there were a lot of them.

Nosewise, having noticed the signs of battle, signaled the flotilla. “I GO.” The strike craft increased its speed, pulling away from the flotilla. “FRIENDS. STAY SAFE.”

Ahead the flashes of weapons fire reached a crescendo. Small explosions could be made out, although the combatants themselves were still hidden behind the haze of the star system’s gasses and asteroids.

The time has finally come, it seems. Survivors of the Ghost Nebula have been found, and the flotilla may very well be the first living beings outside the region to lay eyes on these Swimmers that have been stalking them for so many hours. “This is it people!” The captain exclaimed. “Warm up all weapons, get ready to engage the enemy.”

Within the Courageous’s hanger bay, seven pioneer strike craft burst forth, moving into a delta formation alongside the their mothership and the two corvettes, they may not amount to much in turning the tide, but the extra firepower, no matter how small, could always be of use.

From the seemingly empty space between the Augustan flotilla and asteroid belt came a barrage of space rock. This time, however, the projectiles came at a much higher speed, fast enough to do some damage if they struck. This increased speed, however, did seem to cause the stealth mucus covering the rocks to come off in small bits, enough to give the Augustans a decent chance to see them.

In the distance the first actual sighting of the combatants came into view. A pair of strike craft, similar to Nosewise but obviously more advanced, streaked into view, chased by… a monster. The creature reached out towards the craft with its long tentacles, swiping at one of them. The craft dodged to the side at the very last moment before flipping end over end to fire back with its own beam cannons. The beam attack landed, cleaning severing one of the tentacles off. One of the remaining seven tentacles swatted the strike craft with enough force to slam it into a nearby asteroid. The second strike craft darted deeper into the asteroid belt as its comrade disappeared into a ball of fire.

Elsewhere a squadron of fighters could be observed darting around and harassing a creature the size of a destroyer. It struggled to hit any of the fighters with its tentacles and after a moment it spat a glob of plasma out. The plasma struck one of the fighters and the craft was engulfed in an explosion.

Particle beams speared out from the depths of the asteroid belt, heralding the arrival of the strike crafts’ mothership. The mothership was obviously some kind of dedicated carrier. It possessed numerous hangerbays, most of which were currently closed. It had several weapons batteries, particle beam cannons, that seemed undersized for a ship of that size, perhaps serving as some form of mix of CIWS and battery. It was also very heavily armored for a carrier, perhaps as heavily armored as one would expect a ship of the line to be. And it very much needed every bit of armor it had.

A creature the size of a destroyer had attached itself to the carrier, its tentacles wrapped around the warship and squeezing. The carrier tried to hit it with its CIWS, missing the body of the creature but severing a tentacle. A squadron of fighters swooped in and fired their beam weapons at the creature, wounding it but failing to dislodge it, as they fled from another creature the size of a corvette. The carrier switched targets to the corvette sized creature, its particle beam cannons scoring several clean hits on the creature’s body. The creature spasmed, shuddered, and then went still.

The carrier rolled as it neared an asteroid. The movement was graceful even if the carrier was slow. The carrier continued its roll until the body of the creature wrapped around it was between it and the asteroid and then it fired all of its maneuvering thrusters, slamming itself into the asteroid and smashing the creature in the process. The carrier continued moving forward, leaving the creature smeared and dead along the side of the asteroid.

Two VLS bays opened on the carrier out of which two missiles emerged. The missiles quickly changed course towards the Augustan flotilla. The Augustans wouldn’t have been blamed for thinking they were under attack, but once the missiles had made it halfway to the flotilla they flipped end over end and unleashed their packload back towards the way they had come. Their payload turned out to be the equivalent of grapeshot or a shotgun blast. Thousands of small fragments of metal burst out and flew back towards the asteroid belt. Hundreds of these projectiles found new homes in the bodies of nearly invisible creatures. The same creatures that were hurling rocks at the Augustans. The same creatures that had been stealthily moving closer to the Augustans.

Detected, the creatures dropped all attempts at stealth, five corvette sized tentacleD monstrosities appearing where but a moment ago had seemingly been nothing, and sped towards the Augustans with tentacles outstretched.

In one moment, the Augustans were venturing to their destination, and in another moment, had found themselves right in the middle of a battle. The swimmers that had been stalking them for hours at last revealed themselves, flowing through space at an alarming rate as they charged towards the flotilla

“Scatter! Fire everything!” The captain blurted out, no instructions were even needed in this case, it’s pretty damn clear who’s friend and who’s foe. The trio of ships and their fighter escort scattered into the void, the space becoming a target-rich environment. The duo of starlance corvettes break off into two directions as their light guns blindly fire towards the general direction of the attacking swimmer pod. The Courageous herself turned to face the stalkers head on, her forward guns blasting out beams and launching missiles, all the way they were pelted by waves of rock fragments from the swimmers.

Attacking pod themselves had scattered, one of the corvettes, the Intrepid, to be their first target as they hurled plasma bolts at her, much to the shock and surprise of those onboard. “They shoot fucking plasma now?!?!” Elisa blurted out as she and others saw the scene unfolding. The shields had failed, the ship was scarred with scorch marks; parts of the hull breached. A pair of swimmers moving in for the kill as they wrapped their tendrils on both ends of the ship, violently pulling it apart, the horror of seeing their fellow augustans sucked out into the vacuum of space, their screams silenced. Their fresh bodies picked apart by the tendrils.

A similar fate would befall the Outlander as she charged towards the swimmers, attempting to avenge her sister ship, her forward guns blasting off in a fury, scoring some hits as blood jetted out into space. Colliding with one of the creatures until both smash against a larger asteroid. The Outlander turning into a small blaze of light. The ranger fighters in the meantime, distracted one other swimmer as they swarmed it like angry insects.

The Courageous meanwhile resumed her attack, firing off its heavy guns and missiles as it charged head first against one of the swimmers.

The carrier, for its part, was still engaged with the remaining destroyer sized Swimmer. It was an elegant dance between the two. The Swimmer was faster and more agile, yes the carrier always seemed to know exactly how to turn at the last moment or use an asteroid as a shield in order to keep the Swimmer away. All the while a squadron of fighters harassed the swimmer, chipping away at it with their beam weapons.

Two more squadrons of strike craft had emerged from the asteroid belt, one made up of the same fighters as the first squadron while the second made up of slightly larger craft. Both flew towards the embattled Courageous.

The carrier fired off another missile, aimed at two of the corvette sized Swimmers that were bunched together. The missile detonated shortly before reaching the Swimmers, letting out a hail of metal fragments. One of the Swimmers was badly mauled by the attack, the other avoided most of the fragments by hiding behind the first. Both turned their attention away from the Courageous and towards the carrier.

The seemingly last heroic stand would be cut short as friendly fighters, and ordnance lit the Killzone ablaze. Two of the swimmers turning their attention away to a new target, giving the Courageous much needed breathing room as it joined into the fray as her own fighters and allied fighters charged towards the targeted swimmer, the impressive beam weapons of the ghost region survivors shredding the beast apart.

The squadron of heavier Ghost Region strike craft opened fire on one of the Swimmers that had taken out the Intrepid, opening fire with a barrage of rockets and beam lasers. The shredded that Swimmer as well, allowing the heavy attack craft to turn their attention to the Swimmers that were even now heading towards the carrier. They were soon joined by the second squadron of Ghost Region strike craft, after they had helped the Courageous with its kill.

The carrier, for its part, had turned towards the Courageous, intent to join up even if that meant heading straight into the tentacles of the two corvette sized Swimmers. The carrier still had to make evasive maneuvers as the last of the destroyer sized Swimmers tried to grab it. All the while the last squadron of strike craft continued to fire away on the destroyer sized Swimmer, which seemed to not care about them at all.

The Courageous and her fighter escort joined in the attack, the pioneers tasked with slowing down or eliminating the corvette-class swimmers. While the Courageous herself was thrust on full speed towards the destroyer-class swimmer, aiming the heavy guns and firing off another wound of missiles and directed-energy fire at the behemoth.

The sight of the now dead swimmers that drifted all around them had alleviated the fear and dread somewhat. They can bleed and die like every other being in the galaxy, and that alone gives the crew the resolve to see this to the end, to avenge their fallen brothers and sisters in arms.

The thus far unidentified, but certainly friend, carrier maneuvered itself alongside the Courageous. One of its squadrons continued to fly around the two ships in a large circle as the two remaining squadrons headed back to the carrier. After a few moments the carrier opened a communications channel with the Courageous

“This is Witch of the Void. Nice to see some friendly faces.” A dark skinned woman wearing a black military uniform partially covered by a white military style coat appeared on the Courageous’s communications screen. She had a friendly smile on her face, even going so far as to wink. No one could be faulted for calling the woman a Yrrani. She did, after all, have a Yrrani’s telltale pointed ears. But her’s were different than what one would expect from a Yrrani. Her ears were much longer. “Nosewise indicated that you weren’t from around these parts and while I could get the whole story from him… well I figured it’d just be easier to ask you.” She shrugged. “So, who are you all and what brought you to this hellhole?”

The bridge crew couldn’t help but blush at the sight of Witch of the Voids’s captain, and a Yrrani at that, one doesn’t see much Yrrani outside of their enclaves, and those ears for sure make them a different breed. Captain Hood snapped himself out of it and cleared his throat. “Captain Ryan Hood of the SRS Courageous, Star Rangers of the Augustan Empire.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And the short of it is, we came to investigate the region after an anomaly, a tear in space had sort of “fixed” itself. We’ve come from the other side.”

The Yrrani captain raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you now? Are things so dull out there you have to find new things to entertain yourselves with?” After a moment she adopted a thoughtful expression. “Whatever happened to the Yrrani Empire? I’m guessing your Augustan Empire isn’t some sort of client state. The old Yrrani would never stand for someone else to dare call themselves an empire.”

The captain fixed himself up to deliver the news to the Yrrani. He had briefly forgotten the region had been closed off for 1800 years, these people unaware of the past six hundred years of radical change. “The Empire is long dead, fell over five centuries ago.” He announced. “In the void that was left by their old masters, our precursors, their former servants have risen to replace them. The Augustan Empire stands as one of the mightiest of the successors in the galaxy.” That last bit he said with a hint of patriotic pride. Turning his attention back to the Yrrani captain. “A lot has happened while you were trapped here, the Yrrani still live for the most part, but their power has diminished, small enclaves all that remain.”

“Good. Good.” The Yrrani captain said. “That’s one threat we don’t have to be concerned about then.” Her seemingly perpetual smile spread even further. “Guess you could say we outlasted them, in a sense.” Her smile darkened just a tad. “Well I suppose you’ve met the Swimmers. The vermin were supposed to still be quiet for another five or so years. Guess that’s just bad luck on your part. Or… maybe good luck given that none of the really big or clever ones came out to say hello.” She let out a, probably theatrical, sigh. “I have to admit they caught me off guard. Should have brought Pike or Halberd with me.”

The Captain, and as well as the bridge crew hearts sunk after the Witch’s captain comments on the swimmers. “Big? Clever?..…oh sweet merciful gods…” He thought to himself, making his damndest to not make an audible reaction, best not ruin the mood after a hard fought battle. The struggle alone against these “smaller” breeds was soul-draining, they probably wouldn’t have survived against the larger ones. Although the previous comment did perk his ears. “You were enemies of the Old Empire?” he asked, intrigued with the story behind that.

“Don’t read much ancient history?” The Yrrani captain asked. “Ah that’s not fair. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Yrrani had simply erased us from the history books. But yea, we were what you’d call old enemies. The Yrrani-Twei never did like how the Yrrani treated other species. And well after the Twei Expulsion… had the Ghost Nebula not been sealed away, the Twei and Yrrani would have come to blows sooner or later. Back in the early days of the Republic it was assumed that the Yrrani would eventually make their way back into the Ghost Nebula and reconquer it for their empire. That… ceased to be the main concern once the Swimmers showed up.”

Hood’s eyebrow rose. “Seal? You mean the tears in space were of Yrrani creation?” Although that should be no surprise, the Old Empire was a technological juggernaut, with a small armories’ worth of devastating superweapons that could make and break the galaxy at will. Tearing the very fabric of real space is not beyond the Old Empire’s capabilities. “And you’ve survived all this time while fighting against those monsters while cut off? I must say, very impressive.”

“Survived is a… strong term for what we’ve done.” The Yrrani, no Twei, captain shrugged. “More like existed. If anything it feels like the Swimmers have allowed us to continue to exist. They’ve been… rather dull for the past hundred or so years. Either way there’s not many of us left. Other than my hidden base the only other stronghold we have left here is being guarded by Dame. I haven’t found it yet, but I’m pretty sure she’s still hidden away. I probably would have found it this trip if it weren’t for the Swimmers breaking their pattern.” She let out a long sigh. “Which reminds me… how did you end up with Nosewise?”

“We…encountered it alone in a wrecked graveyard.” Hood said, he connected the dots. “We had come across the aftermath of a fierce battle, the wrecked remains of an asteroid station and a few ships.” He paused and prepared to share the bad news. “We intercepted a garbled transmission before the station’s reactor went critical, it was a warning for the Witch to stay away, and that the Pike[ and Halberd sunk….I’m so sorry, but they’re all gone. Nosewise was all that was left.”
“Damn” The Twei grimaced. “Pike and Halberd are- were” She corrected herself, “good friends. And the loss of that base means I can’t resupply anymore. Now I have to find Dame and the base she’s guarding.” The Twei closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re free to stick around if you want, but honestly I suggest you leave this area. The presence of food is likely to rouse the Swimmers.”

“Unfortunately miss, that is not my decision to make.” Hood began, although if it were up to him, Hood would order this ship back to Imperial Space and never return, sadly, he has his orders. “We were merely scouting ahead of a much larger expedition, the last time we communicated was relaying a rendezvous point for the fleet, a “Alpha-Charlie-18” from one of your transmissions.”

“Well Alpha-Charlie-18 was the location of my base. And given that that’s in an asteroid field…” The Twei grimaced. “Let’s just say that we’re lucky the swimmers that were following you decided to attack here and not in the asteroid belt. That would have been rather nasty. They are stealthy, if nothing else. Still there is a bit of good news here. The Swimmers are more likely to go after you than your main expedition. They like to go for isolated groups when possible. I, for one, think Swimmer behavior makes more sense when you look at it from the lens of a pack hunter.” She made a whipping motion with her hand. “But this isn’t the time for an academic lecture. The Swimmers will attack again. And they will certainly do so before you can rejoin forces with your expedition.”

After what happened today, it would be downright suicide to go venture off alone. “In that case, I think it’s best if we join you on your search. Strength in numbers and all that.” The captain turned to maxwell. “Lt. Maxwell, once we depart, inform the admiral of our current…predicament, and inform him of the threat present.”
The Comms Officer nodded.

“Aye Aye, Captain.” With that done, Hood turned his attention back to his Twei counterpart. “We’re ready to depart whenever you are.”

---

---

It had been one long galactic year since the last war of reclamation or whatever the other nations wanted to call it. The Lokoid had a different word in mind to describe those wars - the firestorm wars. Wars so intense they burned brighter than that of the flames when the Lokoid and their allies scoured their galactic sectors of any Yrrani presence. What was it all for? Pieces of lost technology on Tar Yrra? The Lokoid had already broken down and learned what they could on Yrrani settled worlds during the Yrrani civil war and the subsequent rebellion of the auxiliaries. What kind of technology did the Yrrani withhold and kept so close to their hearts as to stay only in their home world? If it was a weapon, was it so destructive that even in their final moments they did not dare think to use it? Was it a miraculous power source that would never run out? What other possibilities were there?

Araq pondered this in his mind while his chelicerae chittered and chattered, a gesture akin to humans rubbing their hands together to think and ponder.

That was when the other Ruling Heirarchs entered the council chamber. There were others of course, the lesser Heirarchs were present via holoprojections. There were hundreds of reports, things that the Lokoid could easily sift through, their unique physiology and biology facilitated better information processing and handling even if there were multiple unrelated tasks at once - true multitasking.

In mere hours, several lesser Heirarchs governing different sectors had their concerns addressed by the ruling Heirarchs, directives, objectives, and other such things were then distributed. Sectors that had failed their tasks or had not lived up to the expectations of the Ruling Heirarchs had their governing Heirarchs reviewed. Actions of replacement or addressing their weaknesses that had been overlooked. Afterwards, as each of the lesser Heirarchs moved out of the council chamber, the Ruling Heirarchs began looking at the overall push of the Heirarchy at large.

The five convened by the center console of the chamber with Araq speaking first, “Tar Yrra cannot be conquered. Too many eyes. Too many restrictions. Multinational peace keeping corps and research team outside of system under Supremite threat. We overlook when we can, however, Augustan presence make relations… Difficult on both sides.”

Gorn, the Heirarch of research and development speaks, “Cannot lose privilege for research on multinational station. Suggest repositioning defense contingent with multinational fleet away from potential confrontation with Superiority forces to defense of station proper.”

“Not viable. Defense contingent near station may draw incorrect conclusion from Augustan force and other members. Putting forward for discussion suggestion: Communicate with Supremacy. Inform discreet passage past multinational force. Information provided in return for profit for Superiority and Hierarchy interests. If not, negotiate other means.” Araq presents the idea to the council.

All around the center console of the council chamber there was not one objection. Araq then begins to create an encrypted message to be delivered via physical transportation towards supremite controlled space aboard a delivery fleet containing Lokoid undesirables and raw materials for supremite conversion.

Araq then waves one hand and the console projects holo documents for the Heirarchs to view, as two other interesting matters pop into view, “... Aside from Tar Yrra, Sector Heirarchs under Commerce and Industrial caste propose limited clearing of Scorched Line. Too many valuable resources left behind. Reclamation deemed possible.”

The Heriarch of commerce, Kaloth seems intrigued, “Possible. Intriguing. Recuperating losses and recovering lost equipment is paramount in proposed venture. Methodology?”

Heirarch of industry, Zasz, and Heirarch of War, Dagoth start to present their holo documents sliding the ones on the forefront into the background temporarily.

“We send an Annihilator class super dreadnought outfitted for scrap collection. Reclaim, reforge, repurpose. Melt down what cannot be used into new material.” Zasz clicked.

Dagoth twitched his antennae in approval, “We send smaller destroyers and cruisers for escort. Super dreadnought to act as mobile space station for collection operation.”

Kaloth’s hands perused the documents available to him. There was a long pause before he finally buzzed with approval, “Methodology sound. Collection group adequately armed and equipped. Expected losses during collection, minimal. The commerce caste approves.”

Araq hearing his Heirarchs and seeing all presented facts was also pleased, “Limited collection mission approved.”

Araq brought back the third document regarding the ghost region. Whisper drones sent to the region have detected something interesting. “Augustan force spotted entering ghost nebula and disappearing off sensors. Ghost nebula navigation, challenging. Augustan, enemy, must observe, must obstruct. Options?”

Around the council table they chittered and chattered and clicked and clattered. Finally, Dagoth addressed the Supreme Heirarch, “Modified battlegroup move into ghost nebula. Follow Augustan force. Support group stationed outside nebula with beacon for reinforcement point. Engage Augustan force. Armistice does not stipulate hostilities outside Tar Yrra.”

Araq screeched in disapproval, “League of Nations will question hostility. Conflict unnecessary, conflict avoidable. Require deniability. Options?”

Dagoth revised his plans immediately, “Exploratory battlegroup, Hive class super carrier as flagship. Four antennae class destroyers for detection and navigation, four brawler class cruisers, four mauler class cruisers, three hailfire class cruisers. Fire power adequate, deployment options plenty. Revisions necessary?”

“Heirarch class battle carrier, Eight antennae class destroyers, three stinger class destroyers, six instigator class destroyers, four brawler class cruisers, three mauler class cruisers, three hailfire class cruisers. Detection needed, firepower needed, threat unknown. Do not repeat mistake with bio-mech union, must be prepared, must be organized. Support group stationed outside of nebula is agreable. All details now agreed?” Araq replies to Dagoth’s request for revisions.

Once again, around the console, they all remain silent. Araq then says, “Council deliberations decided. The Heirarchy moves forward.”

Two people sat in the room, each on opposite sides of the desk, in simple but comfortable padded chairs of a sort. All the while silence hung about the room like a great and draping curtain, the tension somewhat palpable as one stared back at the other without a word. In the background, a bladeless fan pushed air along to cool the warm room....warm? Wait, was it normally warm in here, or was it just herse-

"Agent Malone, I'm waiting for your explanation. Have all the time in the world, even, to do this."

The director's words cut through the air like a chilly breeze, sending a mild tremor down the back of one rather tensed up Agent Malone and snapping her out of her thoughts. Spacing out wasn't going to save her here, but she-.....well, it was-.....drat. For her part, though, it was apparent that Agent Malone was now trying to think of what to say, but part of her didn't want to let some of those words escape her mouth. What could she say to the person in front of her that would even hope to remedy the matter or such? Hmm? What did she want her to say about the whole matter? Some part of her didn't regret a thing, and yet after the whole affair and 'that' being returned to its place in Containment Level B all the way back at Site Alpha it was more than a bit mortifying all the same.

"I-...u-u-umm..."

Her voice felt shaky, like a child caught where they ought not to have been looking. Her muscles felt tenser than they ever had before, more than her first mission had ever made her feel for that matter. A cold sweat was beginning to form on her upper back as well, as if she'd just jumped out of a lake before coming here. Maybe it was just her who felt rather warm in this room, as across from her the visibly dissapointed visage of Director Clark was looking her down without seemingly batting an eye. Golden blonde hair, that pair of stern green eyes, the rather light-hued human skintone, the business uniform, everything about her felt hard to look at right now despite the human-like appearance she wore. The woman was....she'd seen she was human, heard she was before joining up yes, but right now she felt less like a human and more like a terrifying wall of force. Truly it was more scary to be in front of and looked at by her, really, than the monster that accompanied her as an assistant than anything else. Like that gaze pierced into her very soul.

At the same time, though, she knew that the longer she said nothing coherent the longer this would be drawn out. Ok...well, she could do this. It was all so very stupid, in hindsight, but here went something!

"....Marina...she was pretty shaken up by it, b-but she was holding it all in. Being on 'that' duty and all, but she was afraid she'd be fired for sticking to it and holding on with that assignment. It was only two weeks, right? But she wasn't doing well, and Kael's prodding at her wasn't doing anything to help it. I-I-I got angry, of course, but and when Kael dared me to do something about it I....we....well....we....we began to come up with a plan.

He h-had the security clearance, Marina h-h-had watch duty then, and I planned to be walking by when Kael was on duty."

"Go on."

Agent Malone gulped a bit of air and saliva, trying to wet her throat as it suddenly felt so very dry. She tried to slow her breathing, just as they'd been told to practice in the field, bit by bit. In and out. In and out. In the nose, out of the mouth. Good. That was good.

"H-He said he had a ship that'd shoot the box into the sun....a-a-and I didn't think about if he was telling the truth at the time. Or...o-or at all, about any of this. Once M-Marina handed it off to me, and Kael got me to the anti-psionic box he'd prepped so I could put it in, I-I walked off back to Marina."

"Mhmm. That lines up with what the security system observed last week, and what we were able to dig up thus far about the incident, so if nothing else I congradulate you on telling the truth about your involvement in yesterday's incident in the end. However, the fact remains that you participated in moving a contained anomaly off-site, where your coworker attempted to make a profit on selling it. Yes it was a mere Class A Anomaly as far as you knew, but that's far from an excuse."

"I-I didn't k-k-know he was doing tha-!"

Director Clark held up her prosthetic right hand, and Malone's mouth suddenly shut.

"Yes, after your voluntary psionic examination and reporting to your superior about the incident a few hours later we know that for certain already. Marina, however, was told about this. Would you have gone through if you knew it was being sold for a profit? It seems not, or at least that Kael and your friend didn't trust you enough to let you in on that little detail."

Malone's stomach sank, as if someone had dropped a heavy stone inside of it, as her jaw locked up and froze in place midway into trying to speak back again. Yet as words and questions began to race through her head, as some part of her wanted to shout back that Marina would-

"Would never do that in her lifetime? It would seem to be so from a first impression, but sometime people like to hide what they're really thinking behind it all. Behind the face of a newer agent who couldn't handle Anomaly 642 duty, she was working with Kael on selling it before trying to book it from the facility soon after alongside him. It's why we caught the two of them as they tried to leave Site Alpha in the first place after she left you to 'go have some time alone' to calm down later."

"B-"

"You know I'm psionic, yes, Miss Malone? But that aside the question is written on your face more than anything. Yes, we knew what was going on that day....and the whole time to be frank. Yet given you're the only one of the three involved to submit to a psionic examination, as well as voluntarily speak with me in my office here after giving a testimonial, you've already proven a fair amount of sincerity. You didn't try to run, even, which I must say was a smart move on your part as well.

However, why do you think we assign some agents to Site A for their trial period? To test them. Sure the initial missions, the trianing, and the like are all there, but in the end we want to test your mettle, capabilities, and more. Your ability to work with others. Your honesty and character. Your ability to handle the 'safest' level of anomalies as well as sudden curveballs....though that one is admittedly actually a Class B we throw in there from time to time as a somewhat harder test. Pretend its a new find that the site has to contain for a while until a proper cell can be prepared for it or something like that."

"...."

"Is it cruel? To some extent most people would say that, especially given that one's nature. However, in this line of work you must be able to adapt in case of 'sudden escalation' beyond your normal standards as the training session tried to drill into you and your peers at Site A. This job isn't easy, neither is it fair, and our role is to handle things that most can't as best as we can. Not everyone can handle everything, regardless of that, but the general rule of thumb still stands.

Your coworker wasn't as devastated as she made herself out to be, and she used that to manipulate you into 'helping' it seems she and Kael were in contact before joining up with the agency to boot as we've been inclined to believe at this venture. It doesn't nessecarily mean torture either, but that is why we weed out new agents like this in one way or another. If someone who can't handle it gets out there, and messes things up, the problems goes well beyond just your own potential danger or suffering. It involves a lot more than that many times oover, and if we fail or try to hit above our weight class then it could spell disaster for far too many people in the end."

Malone sat listening, her hands coming into her lap and nearly clutching her knees until the knuckles turned white. All this time, Marina had-...and she'd-...it was a disgrace. Even the sudden disappearance of her new work 'friend' seemed to have been some part of a plan, perhaps, and her going a few hours later to tell on herself and the others had been useless enough if even the Director had known what was going on anyways before it all went down! That stupid, stupid teapo-

"It is 'stupid', yes, but you handled that duty well enough, tried to formally inform others put on watch over that anomaly when they came in after your turn, and even your superior wrote some positive notes about you in his initial reports about the new trainees at Site A. But your former coworkers didn't make it far after he got the box anyways, not even to the parking lot before waiting security staff apprehended them and the box.

However, we cannot overlook your transgression all the same. Site A may be rigged to weed rookies out, and to capture such ill-intented 'recruits' red-handed, but trying to hand away and get rid of a contained anomaly recklessly cannot be ignored. It is a whole breach of protocol, a violation of your work contract, and the like. In short, by all right I should have you hauled of to do time in an angency cell for this and have you dead to rights on it."

"However, given your honesty and straightforwardness in the matter, and being able to recognize you were in the wrong, the only reason you aren't in a cell right now is because I said so. Because you were brought to me on my orders. And why? Because with the noted factor of your emotional manipulation by the other two, I wanted to see if you were even salvageable after this whole affair."

The Director leaned forward onto the wooden desk in front of her, the light tap of her prosthetic right arm's elbow on it audible, looking more into the eyes of the still-tense but now somewhat-confused new agent.

"I will make it abundantly clear that I am making you one offer, and one offer only, because of your actions after the fact and your willing cooperation with us on this and what sort of stuff we've not turned up in investigating your background and history more in-depth after this along the way. So you have two choices in this matter:

One, you will stay here in a security cell for tonight, and then report to the Mass Transit Shuttle Center at 3am tomorrow morning, sharp. From here you will be taken by an escort back to the training center at Site Gamma elsewhere. Formally from this point on you are suspended if you choose this option, and there at the center you will remain under close observation and undergo a more than tough remediation program meant to harden your resolve, allow you to better grasp your emotions, and give you more resilience and awareness against these sorts of situations. You will then undergo a thourough psionic examination after completing this remediation program, and then your status will only then be debated once more as to whether to return you to rookie-level duty, to imprison you, or to release you from employmeny in the D.A.I.B. altogether and so forth.

Two, you will give me your verbal resignation and will then immediately report down the hall to the Information Protection Department's main office. There, for full disclosure, you will submit to a psionic erasure of specific lowest-level classified information before reporting to security. From there, you will be escorted off the premises, fitted with a nanomonitor, and placed safely in a humane and monitored prison cell for the time being until we can get you a good court date scheduled and so forth.

Do I make myself clear?"

She, she wasn't going to prison right now?! Er, well not unless she-...and...ah. No, it made enough sense she supposed. It was much more than she thought she'd get after being called to come in and speak with the actual Director, of all things, but it was 'something' at least. Yes. And in that vein Malone's eyes would open wider for a moment before her own left hand came up suddenly, jerking up into a formal salute of sorts.

"M-Mam' yes mam'! Thank you for the chance you've given me mam'!"

"Good. Now then, report to the security office down on the next floor. They'll be expecting you."

"Yes mam'!"

The rookie agent would scramble up from her seat, giving a hasty bow to Director Clark before quickly moving to open the door and leaving the room. The Director could even hear her footsteps as they moved across the floor outside of her carpeted office, deliberate as much as they were a mixture of excited and still tension-filled from the whole affair. As soon as those footsteps were out of earshot, however, the overly-large door to her office would once again open. This time, however, something else would walk in altogether.

It wore a fully face-covering mask along with a simple hat of archaic make, walking on a myriad of clawed feet-hands emerging from a main body hidden underneath its black cloak. Its flesh and claw-ended appendages were a dark as the deep blackness of the night, or perhaps even the void of space, and yet Director Clark had felt its presence concealed in the waiting room of her office as it had arrived back there in the middle of her talking to Agent Malone all the same. While most felt it was an anomaly that was 'hard to read', and obviously so in a number of ways, the psionic director felt she'd a certain 'knack' for reading its mood and demeanor underneath it all. One could call it simply 'inuition' at this point, not even needing to glean things like emotions from afar that were on the surface of its mind by now, but all the same its presence tugged up the corners of the human woman's mouth just a bit.

"I take it you brought my message to them, then?"

"....Yessss"

A voice hissed and rumbled at the same time from underneath the beaked mask of the anomaly before her now.

"Perfect, and my other request-?"

A clawed hand came out from behind the door, carrying with it the smell and appearance of a fine cup of tea just the way she liked it. Just hot enough for a tiny wisp of steam to still be trailing off of the top of the cup at that. Without skipping a beat, the clawed appendage gently and gingerly handed the plate the cup of tea was on to the Director, who placed it down in front of her before taking a slow and careful sip. At this point, the edges of her mouth began to crawl up even farther into what some would call a proper 'smile' perhaps. Hah. Her, smiling at a time like this? That was the punch line in reality.

Still, she'd handled a lot worse than this new agent's unwitting participation in a scheme to make bank and run. Especially after all the years she'd had to whip the agency as it was today into shape. Those with ill intentions were always something to keep an eye out for, and they'd learned that well enough even as far back as the old Empire. Still...

"Ah, I needed that today. Now then, did any other news come in while I was in my meeting here?"

A clawed appendage reached into the unseeable void of the anomaly's main body, before coming out with a piece of neat and crisp paper in hand. A rather primitive method of communication, paper and pen or pencil, but it certainly was a method useful in certain ways that wasn't expected by most. Made even better for destroying communicaides she didn't want left around to boot after they're use was through with. Even so, upon taking the offered piece of paper the Director's smile would fade into her usual stoic manner as her eyes ran over the paper in her hands. Then her eyes ran over the words again. Then again. Again. Then once more again for good measure before neatly folding the paper after a pause and placing it securely in a pocket on the front of her shirt, abruptly if not a littlr jarringly gulping down the hot tea, and standing up swiftly from her desk before pushing the chair back in.

The clawed anomaly moved back from the door automatically, to give her room as the Director nearly stormed out in a formal but notable haste, but kept its head lowered down to look at her from the side before moving to follow alongside her all the same.

"Did they say if this news hit the media yet?"

"....Ssssaid it wiiill laaaater toniiiiiight, yesssss."

"Good. Now please take a message from me to Chhief Yavis down in the Archives. Tell him to get all the hands he has down there today to dig up everything we have on this 'Ghost Region', compile it into an encrypted holodrive, and to book it to HQ's shuttle terminal ASAP to meet me there in-person because he's coming along for this. Then go tell our mutual friend I'll be there in thirty minutes in the usual spot, tops."

Without a word, though with a light tip of its hat, the anomaly would seemingly vanish in an instant. Or had it even been there? Slipped into the shadows, perhaps? No one could tell for sure much of the time, but Director Clark didn't skip a beat in any case. Sure she'd need to let Administrator Burke know she'd be gone on 'Class M' business that had popped up just now, but this...yes, this was no small matter if she was getting a paper and pen message like this from 'that' person and by the appendages of her assistant. And the topic? She'd at least seen the term in passing before when perusing some of the most secure archives they had at HQ itself, sitting in things imported from the old Empire proper, though she'd have to use the holodrive to try to get a gist of things before arriving at their location. Wouldn't have much time to brush up, but that's why she was having Chief Yavis come along. He had a good way of analysis, and they'd need that if the topic was this urgent and the timeframe they had was this horribly short.

Yet something didn't sit right about this in her mind, even as the gears of her memory clocked and whirred along. Anything that old, that top secret, and that tightly-maintained in the records even by the Empire's standards was not a good sign. She just hoped it didn't pertain to Tar Yrra directly, though that matter was a four-wars-deep mess of its own already for that matter. Any more heaped on 'that' pile might set off the burnt-down charcoal and tinder that was the whole blasted galaxy again at this rate for all they knew.

However, for now, she and Chief Yavis had a 'meeting with royalty' to get to.

The Scorched Line
Imperial Sweeper Ship Maria’s Bounty

The ethereal sounds of gunfire echoed through the air…the battle droids made their final advance in all corners, the Imperial defenders were now boxed in in their own trenches… gruesome scenes flashed in and out, bodies torn limb from limb, corpses and scrap metal scattered in the trenches…they all ran, the battle was dire, all that mattered now was survival. Even if they were to retreat, there were too injured to even move, a sacrifice was to be made, a scene shifted to a mortally wounded officer alongside a tearful woman, their hands grasping tightly as the couple looked to each other for the last time. “Like hell I’m leaving you behind!” A voice cried out in protest. “We stick together to the bitter end!”

“We lost enough already! I’m not throwing away more lives!” The man shouted before succumbing to a coughing fit, hacking out blood. “Willam….you still have a chance…”

The female soldier looked to a younger Willam with a sorrowful expression. “Live for us, tell our families we love them, please...”

“This is my final order.” The officer said, weakly. “Live. Save as many people as you can, and live godsdamnit.” The scene shifted once more as William leading what remained of the initial invasion force away from the enemy, the mortally wounded soldiers making a last desperate stand to stave off the Lokoid’s advance, a series of gunfire echoing through the air, followed by an explosion before all went silent…

William closed his eyes as he found himself in a dark void, surrounded by the corpses of his fallen brothers and sisters in arms, crying out in anguish as he witnessed the unthinkable. Fast forwarding to the final moments of the war, the beaches of Valgran, facing off against a sea of metal, screaming out in defiance, his left arm disintegrating right before his eyes.

William jolted up from his bed, breaking out in cold sweat, breathing in a rapid pace as the room got blurry, same damn nightmare as many times before. “Fuck..” He cursed to himself as jumped off the bed and straight to the bathroom, washing his face to wake himself up, starring into the mirror to see not a War Hero….but a scarred, broken man, looking down to see an ever present reminder, his arm replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic. The end of the war had left William aimless, having a brief moment of peace from an honorable discharge from the Imperial Army…but that exactly wouldn’t last long. The dreams, the nightmares, and guilt, it was a hidden calling to return to the Scorched Line, the Sweepers were his key. Contracted Mercenaries and Salvagers under the direct employment and command of the Imperial military, tasked with the mission of cleaning up and scouring the Scorched Line.

For William, this was in a way to seek some closure from the war, to make a difference for the many people of the Scorched Line, who’s lives have been forever changed because of the war. Now, he finds himself in command of his own ship and crew, tasked with whatever the military has for him.

“I need a drink.”

>>>The Assembly

The Assembly as it was called, was not anything that resembled a Senate or Parliament of other people. The Assembly of the Supremacy was a super-structure that consisted of thousands of ships all connected with optical communicators. By mere scale this was a fleet large and advanced enough to run amok in a rampage through several systems. But instead it was carrying cargo far more precious than mere weapons, even though thousands of more vessels stayed still protecting them.

No, these ships bore Deliberators. A Deliberator was a special pattern of Arbiter, the city-sized being of brain-mass and computational hardware. Each Deliberator was a representative of a fleet, each was sufficiently different from the others to be its own species of enormous brain-creature, just as the Supremites of different fleets were unique species. Each was the representative of a specific genetic and technological heritage, and thus the adapters that allowed them to communicate with one another were truly complex creations to ensure they would even interpret the same information in a mutually compatible way. But they did, and together this Hivemind of united lesser Hiveminds worked to decide the future of the Supremacy.

The Deliberators deliberated, as their name would suggest. Decisions affecting billions of lives were made in seconds, a process that by the standard of an ordinary Arbiter was glacially slow. But on this day, they had an input that needed a whole minute to come to consensus. A message had come from the Lokoids. It was cryptic. Why did they not trust their normal communication media? Were they compromised? Or even more preposterous, had some of the Supremacy been compromised? Odd, very odd. This was particularly troublesome to deal with, because typical diplomacy of the Supremacy was instantly decided on by the Assembly.

Well, there was only one conclusion they could arrive at. If they were to communicate with them, they would need form a new pattern of Deliberator, one that was the exact arithmetic mean of the genetic and technological change that they had all experienced. The perfect in-between that could communicate on behalf of all the Supremacy. As soon as the decision was made, thirty-seven ships instantly got to work. After some brief calculations and study, they got had the plans. Flesh was molded in the cold depths of space, the enormous brain soon being plated in miles of wiring and bionics. Soon, eyes the size of cars opened, and new life was born.

The Diplomat as it was labeled would have its own fleet that bore individuals from every other fleet, and so it set sail towards Lokoid space. To contain an Arbiter, a particularly large vessel was usually warranted, one most nations didn’t have a true name for though some might call it an Uber-Dreadnought or Mothership, depending on their own linguistic and cultural connotations for these words. The Lokoids were trusted to keep their word, they wouldn’t break it. However the fastest path to Lokoid space would run close to contested space around Tar Yrra. Thus an escort was provided, once again of a mixed origin of the many different fleets. Besides, with an armed complement the fleet was able to enlarge itself! It picked up some interesting asteroids, and of course a few thousand hapless souls that were going through the void, their flesh promptly being ground down for proteins and their brains put in stasis for future upgrading.

The Lokoids would have their audience, alien as it was.

Back at the Assembly, the Deliberators got to their next task. The newly formed Telok fleet would have its assignment. It would was to go on a rampage alongside the Gharth and Undav fleets on the path to the so-called ghost region. Several systems had taken the relative quiet of the Supremacy as a sign they had disappeared from interstellar affairs. They had Foregone their certifications of higher ethics, the document that the Supremacy provided to civilizations that refrained from harbouring Yrrani. Slowly half breeds would become more and more common, and soon relatively pure Yrrani would be commonplace in those stars. The Supremacy would teach them the error of their ways.

---

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>>>The Tellok Fleet

Eiros looked at the projection of the system that the Tellok fleet was to invade. Just as to most of the rest of the stars, the Supremacy was an old horror, a boogeyman of sorts that most people ignored in their day to day lives. Oh there would sometimes be troubling reports that the fleets were doubling, tripling, quadrupling. That the quietness of the Supremacy did not mean they were inactive, rather the opposite. But this was largely dubbed as fearmongering, in part because of people that were infected by carefully engineering viruses. Germ-manipulation was deemed far more effective after the incident some thirty years ago where the Augustans had not only discovered the nanomachines controlling hundreds of people, but had studied these same nanomachines and used them to feed false data to the Supremacy. Supremites had little concept of shame, but that was an undeniable embarrassment for which whole genetic lineages were investigated in an effort to find what imperfections had lead to the failed scheme.

Regardless, as they approached the stars, the Tellok fleet would truly show no quarter. All communications were cut off, even shielding was turned off to minimize the detectability of the fleet. But, any vessel but it inbound or outbound would be intercepted. Some were destroyed outright, laser arrays simply turning them into ash within space. Others though would be suddenly beset by clusters of drones that would tear these craft apart, neatly preserving their occupants for upgrading along with their cargos and frames for recycling.

“These are not the same Yrrani that I fought all those centuries ago.” Eiros finally remarked as the Tellok fleet approached the planet that was their destination. “Not a single one of them is purebred.” As the long-range scanners closed in on the world, individuals going about their day would be examined. Alansar Krei, approx. 80% Yrrani. Ryna Baiz, approx. 37% Yrrani. So on, and so forth.

“WILL THAT BE A PROBLEM?” The overwhelming sound of the Arbiter Urgan came into the Autonomite’s head.

He smiled. “No.” As far as he was concerned, these were the sons and daughters of the people that made him suffer, they still benefitted off of the labours of his enslaved comrades all those centuries ago.

“You know they treated me quite well.” Eiros murmured.

“I AM AWARE, YOUR ENTIRE HISTORY AND MEMORY IS WITHIN MY RECORDS.”

“Right, of course it is. I ate well, I didn’t have to work longer than a nine-to-five. But when the order was buzzed into my skull, I tore them apart. They were sleeping, but the buzzsaws I used to trim their garden turned them to mulch. Horrible violence I wouldn’t want upon anybody, but these weren’t anybody. I felt bad for them, truly. They didn’t know why this had to happen, they didn’t even know why they deserved it. Is that a problem?”

“NO. IT IS VITAL TO UNDERSTAND THE ENEMY.”

“Good.”

Ahead of the fleet, masquerading as a trading vessel was a horrible cargo. It would land on the world with capsules that contained an atmospheric poison. Not so grand it would kill everybody unmasked, but strong enough to at the very least make them debilitated. At the same time, swarms of terror drones would crawl out and rush to assassinate thousands of key political and military figures to ensure chaos before the fleet arrived.

They knew what this would signal to the international community, as it was called. After decades of “hibernation”, the Supremacy was awoken. And they had not spent their time in futility. The ships they flew on were completely different to their last appearances, they had been iterated upon thousand of times, improved in countless ways. The same would be said for the people of the Supremacy. All the more alien, all the more Supreme.

As millions of people began to cough and choke on the poisoned atmosphere, the fleet would go into orbit. They worked fast, aiming to do what they intended before an RRF could be assembled. Lasers would strike out at the residences, workplaces, transports and other likely locations of every single Yrrani on the planet, whole skyscrapers falling down. Millions of drones flew out, each kidnapping several people to return to the ships of the Supremacy for upgrading. Warehouses of food or raw materials would also be ransacked, the proteins and minerals therein vital to the plans of the fleet. It would be over in less than an hour, and as if nothing had happened the fleet would disengage as their scanners detected the mobilization of ships from other planets in the system.

“A success by any other name.” Eiros declared, watching the conveyor belts that pushed restrained people into the upgrading stations. “Indeed.” Ganvar remarked, his bionic appendages penetrating the flesh of a screaming man half-way on the path of becoming a Supremite.

“But… these people didn’t ask for this.” Eiros couldn’t help but remark.

“I am aware. This thought only comes to you because you are an Autonomite. It is an important thought to have! But not an important one to address. It is natural, you see these people as the same slaves that you were in the hands of the Yrrani. But this is not the same. When we are done, each person is in bliss to experience the hivemind.” As if on queue, the man screaming under the tools of Ganvar suddenly quietened, his eyes closing, only a single line of drool coming from his mouth. “We give them what they need, we do not merely take what we want.”

Eiros was still somewhat troubled, but he found himself incapable of arguing. “Very well. We are on to the Ghost stars, then?”

“NOT YET. THERE ARE SEVERAL SYSTEMS TO PUNISH FIRST.” Urgan declared.

“Hmm. Well, I believe you do not need me for anything. I will have a rest then.” A rest. He didn’t really need one, people of the Supremacy were well beyond the need for such. But a part of the mind still demanded it. He knew his programming would make him use his “break” productively, at best he’d try to create art. More likely, he’d plan some bloody scheme. Well, it was what it was.

Thus the trio of fleets continued their brief rampage, heading towards this strange region of Ghosts.

Soundtrack: Stardust - Futurescapes & Lithograph

---

Commander Lennox was reviewing the reports coming in from the battle group. She had ordered their smaller faster stealth ships out to explore. There were five of them, the Shadow, the Nightweaver, the Adventurer, the Lucky, and the Viper. Their mandate was to look for planetary bodies. They are to search for Daxini survivors who might have been caught due to the war and unable to escape before the battle. If they were still alive, it was their responsibility to explore the best way to rescue them. They were also supposed to tag and record coordinates for any larger pieces of debris that might be of interest to the tech heads. Lennox needed that reconnaissance. She sighed in frustration as the amount of information they had been able to obtain about the system had been hindered by the sheer amount of debris. It overwhelmed their sensors. Even with the Kronar in the group sifting through huge amounts of data. The scan techs had been making adjustments to the sensors and were trying to adjust them but they were reporting scan shadows, duplicate signatures, and signals that bounced around the debris making it difficult to get a picture on what was really there. The debris field also blocked sensors in places making closer reconnaissance a necessity. Then there were the constantly changing trajectories as debris collided with other debris spinning off on a new course. It was like trying to navigate a pinball game.

Lennox felt a deep need to help protect their people. She was one of the luckier ones in a way. Her ancestors had made it back to Dax after taking work on a freighter headed that way. Their handwritten journals of their lives were one of her most cherished possessions. The journals had been scanned and were on display in her home in a stasis case to preserve them. She had read them as a teenager. They had heavily influenced her decision about what to do with her life. The journals chronicled their lives with the struggles and horrors of living as slaves. The conditions they had endured. The way their guards abused them and tried to break their spirit. There was hope in the pages too though, as they found love in each other. After they were freed, they worked together to get home and then married and had a good life together. The appreciation for their life after being a slave forced to work in a Yrrani mine flowed through the pages. She had been surprised by the things they had written about in their journals, anxiety that the Yrrani would come back, hope as babies were being born, freedom in having a wind blow across their face after working in protective suits underground, food they could chew instead of drink. It taught her to appreciate the small things. She learned in school that there were still Daxini who had never made it home and their descendants could still be there out in the stars, still waiting to come home.

Most of the Daxini had no idea if they still had lost family out in the stars. It had been centuries since the Yrrani had left Dax to its own devices pulling back from their space. Many of the Daxini could only trace their genealogy back to that time. Their people had lost so much history. She felt as if she owed it to those who might still be lost out here among the stars and enslaved a way home. She had joined the military for that reason. This was the first time in her lifetime that the Daxini Council had approved such a large group action outside of Daxini space. Typically they sent in the stealth ships disguised as freighters and the battle ships and stations stayed in Daxini space only venturing out in support if needed. Lennox was grateful to be chosen as commander of this battle group. She had an itching behind her ears and a steady growing pressure in her stomach that said action was on the way. Her tail was twitching with a mind of its own as her instincts and anxiety rose. Lennox had a sense that her destiny and fate was rushing towards her. She hoped she was ready when it came.

Lennox had ordered their heavy shuttles to use their gravitic tractor beams to at least stabilize the larger pieces of debris into piles, halting their momentum. This at least put the largest pieces into a stationary orbit. She had decided to set up the battlestation where the debris field had reduced. They would use it as a base of operations while they worked to clear more of the debris field while exploring this region of space. All ships were to stay in communications and check in once an hour on the hour. She had chosen to spread the battle group in a defensive arc around the battle station. She had received a message on the quantum relay that the Daxini Mining and Refinery Station Vulcan and the Light Cruiser Iron Talon were supposed to join them sometime within the next hour. Lennox preferred accuracy but understood that approximations were as accurate as they could be. Trips through slip space were always approximate. It was hard to calculate how long the journey would take exactly. Ships could stall, drives could fail, ships could be attacked. There was a lot that could go wrong and cause delays.

Lennox had moved back to the command center. She wanted to be available when the station arrived. She had just sat down in her seat and gotten comfortable when her Navigation officer reported an incoming wormhole.

Navigation Officer Rabasha was at her station when she suddenly looked alert. “Commander, sensors show a wormhole opening at the coordinates we are expecting the Vulcan and Iron Talon.”

Commander Lennox looked over at the Nativagation Officer. Rabasha was a Xidonae with fur in different shades of a golden brown with a white undercoat. “Thank you Officer Rabasha.”

The wormhole was visible in space now as the Iron Talon came through followed by the massive bulk of the Vulcan. The Vulcan was almost twice the size of the Leviathan. It had a modular design allowing them to modify the station for mining, refining metals and ore, and to attach a shipyard module to one side of the station. It was set up to be a self-sufficient mobile shipyard or mining outpost. The shipyard module would allow them to study the technology on the larger pieces of ship hulks. They could reverse engineer it before recycling it all. Cleaning up the navigation hazard that the debris presented in the process. Lennox believed it was a win-win-win for the Daxini. There was a mountain of resources that was causing a navigation hazard, they might get some new technology, and they might actually find some missing Daxini, and help open up new space lanes in this area of space. They might discover planets that had been cut off because of the debris field that would make good trading partners.

The Communications Officer Gartanak spoke without looking away from his monitors. Gartanak and Rabasha were from the same clan. He had similar markings to Rabasha. “Transponder IFF confirms the identity of the vessels as the Iron Talon and the Daxini Station Vulcan. Commander we are being hailed by both vessels.”

Commander Lennox: “Connect both commanders and myself into a holographic call.”

Gartanak: “Yes Sir.” Gartanak’s hands flew across his station as he worked. The call connected and it showed the static floating holographic heads of the two commanders appeared above the holotank in the middle of the control room. “I have Vulcan Station Chief Lavini and Flight Chief Firehawk for you sir.” Gartanak waited until Lennox had indicated they were ready before the images began to move live.

Lennox leaned forward in her chair and straightened her spine a little but kept a relaxed demeanor. “Welcome to the Scorched Line. I am very glad you made it. As you can see, this work is better suited to the Vulcan and it is critical to safer astronavigation.”

Station Chief Lavini was a Buzini. She had light golden brown fur and wore civilian robes in light blue and gold. Vulcan Station Chief Lavini just threw her head back and laughed. “Well I must say it is nice to see that for once our military has a need for our civilian stations instead of the other way around.”

Iron Talon Flight Chief Firehawk snapped a salute to Commander Lennox. Firehawk was a fierce Avitas Clan Warrior with dark almost black feathers with dark red crest on his head and chest with a noble sharp curved beak. “Commander Lennox, it is an honor to serve with you. My orders are to provide a safety escort for Vulcan Station and to place myself, crew, and ship under your command upon arrival.”

Commander Lennox gave Firehawk a salute back. “At ease, Flight Chief. The honor is mine. As you can see the debris field is truly massive, it just gets less dense. We have not yet found the edge of it. There is so much of it that it is wreaking havoc with our sensors. We have ships out scouting the area. In the meantime, I want to see what kind of headway our group can make on reducing the density of the space debris in the area. We are transmitting the coordinates of the staging area and what we have mapped so far. Lavini I will let you decide where you feel the best placement is for Vulcan Station. Flight Chief Firehawk. Your ship will remain stationed near the Vulcan to protect her. All ships are checking in once an hour on the hour. Unless you need immediate assistance. Any questions?”

Lavini smiled at Commander Lennox and nodded. “I will transmit those coordinates to you once I have a chance to review the data.”

Flight Chief Firehawk simply nodded. “Orders understood Commander.”

Lennox just smiled and nodded. “Lennox out.”

Commander Lennox had brought all the Ship Commanders and Chiefs in Battle Group Alpha together to plan how to proceed. She listened to everyone’s ideas and concerns. Together they hashed out how they were going to tackle what felt like an insurmountable task at the moment. Lennox had agreed and confirmed the plan as Daxini crews went to work. The Kronar workers on the Vulcan immediately launched a horde of resource drones from the Vulcan. The drones began hauling debris back to the station for recycling.The resource drones were small about the size of an escape pod with a powerful gravitic engine; they had large claw-like extender arms off the front for carrying material. They also had a powerful gravitic tractor beam that worked off the same engine. The drones were controlled by several Kronar on the Vulcan through communication relays.

It was decided to continue to leave the stealth ships looking for planets and possible survivors. Fighter pilots from the Leviathan would use their sensors to explore the wreckage around Vulcan Station for debris and wreckage that should be looked at by the engineers to see if any technology could be found. After all most of the technology the Daxini had was from what they had learned or reverse engineered from the Yarrani. Lennox ordered the Cruiser Xi’s Axe and light cruiser Scimitar to explore in opposite directions. The smaller battleships would have an easier time navigating the debris field. They were to tag any interesting or large ship hulls or interesting wreckage for towing back to the Vulcan. That left the light cruiser Iron Talon sitting near the Vulcan in a protective position, with the destroyer Stormbringer and the Excalibur Class Dreadnaught Gallant sitting guard on Leviathan.

---

Soundtrack: Space Heroes - Audio Library

Lennox was reviewing progress reports being submitted by the commanders. The Vulcan had been hard at work around the clock since it had arrived. Lennox was shocked by how much material they had processed in the three days since its arrival. The pocket of safe space around the Vulcan had expanded considerably. The corridor between the Vulcan and Leviathan had been cleared as well. They had yet to find any technology worth reverse engineering. The largest pieces tended to be pieces of hull and framework. They had not found any functioning propulsion, weapon, power, or defensive systems. They had refined a wide variety of metals and silicates. The first ore hauler back to Daxini had left the day before to offload what had been processed already, another one was inbound later today. The waste that couldn’t be recycled was being collected and compressed into cubes to feed the fusion reactors. They had found some radioactive material and some antimatter missiles that had failed to explode on impact. They had been handled with care by Daxini ordinance specialists.

The stealth ships reported back that the density of the debris lightens and becomes more spread out. The Lucky turned out to indeed be lucky as it had found a planet that used to be inhabited but the planet was destroyed by bombardment from space. The planet was suffering through a nuclear winter with dust and micro debris in the atmosphere blocking the sunlight. There had been no life signs on the planet. They did report that there was abandoned and wrecked equipment on the surface of the planet. They sent back the data records and reports of what they had found. Lennox ordered them to move on. She felt the priority was looking for their people. They could always come back later if needed. The Shadow had reported finding an abandoned space station that had taken severe damage. There had been no life signs and no power. It had been tagged for follow up. The Viper had reported the coordinates of a dwarf red star. The Nightweaver reported finding a large asteroid field that looked like the remnants of a planet. The damage resembled what the Yrrani had done in the Xi’Abek system. Lennox was sipping a tea that she was fond of when she was interrupted by a call from the command center.

Lennox heard Rabasha’s voice come over the intercom in her office. “Commander Lennox I have Eagle Eye Narrel for you. He says its urgent.”

Lennox: “Put him through to my office.” It was less than a minute later when Narrel’s disembodied holographic head appeared in front of Lennox in the middle of her desk. She gave Narrel a respectful nod before barking out. “Report.”

Narrel was the Eagle Eye in charge of the Stealth Ship Adventurer. Adventurer was manufactured to appear as a small tramp freighter. It had hidden weapons and defensive systems. It also had a stealth field that would help to hide the ship when activated. They had a few visible weapons as most merchants knew better than to rely on patrols to keep trading safe. Pirates were clever and prolific, like roaches they were hard to exterminate. The crew of their stealth ships did not wear a military uniform. They wore civilian dress to help sell their image as traders. Which is why when Narrel appeared on the screen he was in a white Daxini waistcoat with teal trim and jacket popular with businessmen.

Narrel:“The Adventurer has found what appears to be an active space station. It looks like a hunk of junk. It is cobbled together from all kinds of scrap pieces and ship parts. I am transmitting coordinates and what we have managed to pick up on sensors. This might be a great opportunity to find out what has been going on in the region. I wanted to check in and see if you feel it is worth the risk.”

Lennox was surprised. The space station had to be located in one of the regions of lighter debris. Who would visit it otherwise? She tilted her head in thought. “Narrel we need that intel. I wish you and your team success but please be careful. Make sure someone from your team continues to update the group once an hour. I trust you to run the mission. It is your area of expertise. Xi’s blessings go with you.”

Narrel saluted before replying. “Thank you Commander.” The connection cut after a respectful nod from Narrel.

Narrel brought his crew together to plan their mission. The Adventurer looked like a small trading freighter. It had hidden weapon and defensive systems and a few visible ones as would be expected on a long range trading vessel. The sensitive areas of the ship were hidden behind false bulkheads and could only be opened by the crew and monitored by their crew’s Kronar Martok. The accessible parts of the ship felt like a standard vessel. They even had cargo on board for trading. The Daxini had learned that food seemed to be a universal need and made for a great trade cargo. It usually opened doors and was a welcome product wherever they went. They stored their fresh food in stasis pods where it would stay fresh until opened and ready for use. The stasis pods were simple containers with a stasis field generator and battery on them. They stacked and could be plugged into an external power source making it perfect for interstellar travel and trading. It gave the crew an opportunity to hook small transmitters and trackers on the crates. They were designed to look like part of the stasis system. This would allow their crew to listen in on conversations around the crates and track their movements. They also had some crates with a small payload of programmable nanites that their Kronar crew member could take control of remotely with an embedded link and transmitter hidden in the crate. These were just some of the ways the Daxini gathered intel from public ports of call. They also had small almost invisible cameras and a microphone with transmitters on them that ran off an onboard battery. They were designed for temporary use and would only transmit for about a week but they were usually gone by then. They could be applied and stuck to almost any surface. All their stealth operatives wore a snug stealth suit under their station clothing. In a pinch they could use their stealth suit to get around almost unseen. This would not protect them from being detected by psionic means. Depending on the station they might be able to openly carry weapons. They had weapons that could avoid most sensors that they could take with them. Stealth operatives were highly trained in close combat and with a variety of weapons. They were trained to use weapons of opportunity if necessary.

Narrel looked over his small team. Martok was in his preferred holographic avatar on his mobile hard light generator that allowed him to move his avatar around the ship. Jaxori and Dinari were sitting together in casual ship suits. The two Xidonae worked well together like a well oiled machine. Next to them was Luwiti another Xidonae from the same clan. Luwiti was more of a fighter than the pair. Jaxori and Dinari often were the public face of the team who made contact in ports of call. They were both telepathic and telekinetic which helped them communicate when on a mission. Next to Luwiti was Prixoni, one of the Rapaxini in the team who always looked sullen and broody no matter when he saw him. Prixoni was happiest when he was sparring or getting to beat something. Prixonii was one of their better stealth suit operators and was usually in a port of call in stealth mode. He was great at sneaking into sensitive areas. Qixani was an Avitas Clan member who was their pilot but also a great melee fighter and stealth operative. Next in line was the Buzoni Krayvik who was the team’s fighting powerhouse. Krayvik was a gifted melee fighter with natural brute strength. He was also smart and good at getting people to think he was a stupid muscleman to get people to underestimate him. The final member of the team was Turrly another Rapaxini operative. Turrly was their jack of all trades and usually took a support role on a mission. Turrly worked well with Martok and usually worked with Martok on providing whatever support role was needed on the mission. Turrly was often the operative responsible for preparing their spyware packages on the crates for delivery to the station.

Narrel cleared his throat and began the mission briefing. “We have been ordered to go in and recon the station. We need to see if we can do a trade with the station. We want to get eyes and ears in there. We are looking for rumors of Daxini in the area and just what the hell is going on in this region of space. It is why we are here. We need to be careful not to draw any undue attention. So be very careful. Jaxori and Dinari, you will go onto the station as the face of our trading team. You know the drill. We are exploring and looking for new trading partners. Prixoni and Qixani, I want you to explore the station. Find a good spot away from cameras and go stealth. Try to find an access point to their computer systems and plug a hardwire connection into a port if you can for Martok. Plant some of our mobile eyes in public areas. Martok I need you to monitor all communication coming and going from the station and the ships docked to it. Turrly you will be helping Martok and I provide overwatch. Krayvik you are going on station as the ship's cargo handler. I want you to find a bar and do your thing. The typical, I need a drink. It has been too long since I last had one. Luwiti you are the backup on this operation. You will stay on the ship in case someone needs help getting out of a jam. Any questions?”

As expected Luwiti was grumbling about being left behind. Turrly grumbled about always being asked to mind the ship. Qixani and Prixoni were pleased with their assignments. Krayvik just smiled which was slightly terrifying with the sharp teeth and canines he sported. Martok was excited as exhibited by the fireworks of colors surrounding his avatar like a disco. “I will also be staying on ship but I will handle communications and play the ship's owner and operator.” He looked around to see if there were any questions and there were not. They were a well trained crew that had been together for a few years now. They were excited about being in a new area of space and putting their skills up against the unknown. “Then let’s get to work.” The crew leapt into action and were ready as the Adventurer came into communication range of the space station. If you could call it that. It looked ready to fall apart at any moment.

They were hailed as they got closer to the station. The connection was somewhat poor but improved the closer they got to the station. “This is the Space Station Black Cloud. Please state your business and halt or you will be fired upon.”

Turrly snorted as he laughed off the speaker. “With what?”

Martok laughed as he informed Turrly “Sensors are picking up antimatter missiles and energy weapons of some kind. Probably lasers or plasma cannons.”

Turrly put a hand over his face as he muttered “Fuck me for asking.”

Martok continued his report “I am reading breathable atmosphere. The station does have some form of armored plating. Standard docking ports. Ships docked to the station appear to be older model ships, some Yrrani in origin, Lokoid, Augustan, BioMech Union Missionary ships, and a few that I don’t recognize.”

Narrel thanked Martok before replying to the station. “This is the Daxini trading vessel the Adventurer. We have a cargo of foodstuffs. We are here looking for new trading partners. If you are not interested, we will fly on.”

The voice from the station sounded greedy and very interested as they replied. “Foodstuffs you say? What kind?”

Narrel just grinned because he knew that tone of voice. They were about to be extorted out of some of their cargo for docking fees. “Fresh fruit, vegetables and grains from Dax. And some meat substitutes that are popular with our people.”

The station voice sounded satisfied and eager now. “You can dock at bay seven. No projectile weapons allowed on station. Personal protection weapons only. Be warned that the station is not responsible for any loss you may incur while on station. You are responsible for your own security. The station charges a docking fee. You can pay in gold or trade goods. We would prefer trade goods. One crate each of your vegetables, grains, and meat substitutes would be sufficient.”

Narrel snickered a little. He stroked his whiskers and as he had a satisfied look on his face. He just knew it. “Agreed. Thank you Black Cloud station. Are we clear to approach?”

Excitement and satisfaction oozed from the voice as they replied “Adventurer you are clear to approach. We will meet you at the dock to accept your docking fees. Station out.”

Narrel turned to his crew with a satisfied and amused look on his face. “They always make it so easy! It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.” He looked around at the crew who had been listening to the conversation with the station. They were already making the necessary arrangements with weapons. “Take us in Martok." Many of the crew were crossed trained as pilots but Martok liked to do the piloting most of the time.

Martok slowed their approach following the docking instructions sent by the station. They eased slowly into position before Martok initiated the hard seal with the airlock that would allow them entry into the station. It was going to make offloading cargo slower. They would only be able to take out a pallet at a time.

Krayvik was already in his dock worker guise pushing the required pallet with three cases of foodstuffs on it that was being requested for docking fees. He was ready to exit the ship.

Narrel straightened his jacket as the airlock cycled. The crew standing behind him. The airlock opened and Narrel can’t say he was surprised to see a human who had obviously seen some action.

The man had salt and pepper hair with a beard. A scar bisected his right eye which had been replaced with a cybernetic one that glowed a menacing red color which contrasted with the natural icy blue of his left eye. He was dressed in dark but rich clothing that looked sturdy, maybe even light armor. He was wearing a long sleeved jerkin, pants, and boots with a crossed bandolier over his chest. A laser pistol was in a holster on his hip. The man smiled at Narrel before speaking “Hello! Welcome to Black Cloud Station. I run the place. My name is Gerard. I am here to collect your docking fees.” The voice was the same one they had heard over comms.

Narrel inclined his head regally and gestured to the waiting pallet containing the three crates of foodstuffs that were requested. “We have it ready for delivery. Did you bring someone to collect it? Or do you want it delivered?” Narrel didn’t miss the greed and avarice on Gerard’s face as he looked over the crates.

“I will collect it. Can you pull it through the airlock for me? I have some men standing by to handle the crates.”

Narrel nodded to Krayvik. Who simply nodded and waited for Gerard to move out of his way so he could load the pallet into the airlock. It didn’t leave a lot of room. He waited by the controls for Gerard to join him in the airlock.

Gerard gave Narrel a smile he didn’t trust, the man was a slippery character.“Pleasure doing business with you…?”

Narrel gave a polite smile showing his sharp teeth. “Narrel. I run this ship. Indeed. We are looking for new places to trade. We have more cargo. I am assuming we are free to seek out buyers on the station?”

Gerard stroked his beard. “Of course, of course. There is only one rule on Black Cloud Station. And that rule is don’t piss me off.”

Narrel just gave Gerard a neutral look. “That is very vague. You might consider writing down the things that piss you off so people know what to avoid.” He just kept eye contact with Gerard unwilling to back down in this poor excuse for a pissing contest.

Gerard abruptly broke into laughter. “I think I like you Narrel.” He walked quickly back to join Krayvik.

Krayvik only waited till Gerard was inside the airlock before triggering the airlock to cycle through and open. He pulled the antigravity pallet cart out of the airlock into a larger open space. There were two more humans waiting and a Daxini. Krayvik’s eyes widened in surprise to run into one of their people so suddenly. The three came forward to grab the crates. The Daxini was a Rapaxani who had seen better days. They were on the older side and some gray fur around their orange furred muzzle. Krayvik stopped him and offered him a traditional greeting. “May Xi lighten your load and illuminate your path.”

The Daxini's lip curled up in a snarl of disgust. “Xi left this place long ago youngling.”

Gerard stepped forward and barked to the Daxini “Take the crate to my personal hold.” Gerard turned to Krayvik, “We aren’t going to have any trouble are we?”

Krayvik looked at Gerard. “Is he here of his own free will?”

Gerard laughed and turned to the Daxini. “Hey Vargon are you here of your own free will?”

The Daxini turned to Gerard and snarled “Where else would I be?”

Krayvik turned towards Vargon. “I will be in the bar later. Come by and I will buy you a drink and share news of home.”

Vargon still looked hostile but simply nodded.

Krayvik nodded and turned with the pallet jack to return to the ship, cycling the airlock once more. He left Gerard staring at his retreating back.

Krayvik filled Narrel in on his encounter with Vargon. “I couldn’t tell if he was here of his own free will or being held against his will. I invited him for a drink. I will try to find out his story then.”

Narrel began to pace. He didn’t like this situation at all but it made gathering intel even more important. He would report back to Lennox once he knew more. “Everyone needs to be careful. This place feels lawless and without order. Watch each other’s backs closely. Get to work.”

The airlock opened up on a wide landing space with a wide hallway curving away from it on either side. There were arrows and signage pointing to the bazaar which they assumed was some kind of shopping district and administration and exchange office which they assumed led to the station administration and where they could trade valuables in exchange for local currency. It was a pretty common practice on space stations. Narrel carried a small bag of gold and gemstones hidden in his inner jacket pocket. He took Prixoni with him as he made his way to the exchange office. He walked into the seedy looking place with only one counter and a small line with a Lokoid behind the counter. Narrel raised an eyebrow but did not say anything waiting his turn in line. He had to give it to the Lokoid; he was fast and efficient. The exchange rate was highway robbery though. It was about 10 percent higher than he expected. He made his way back to the ship without incident.

Prixoni had been playing guard for him. Prixoni turned to Narrel after they were safely back aboard the ship. “We were being followed from the Exchange Office. A human and a Dathu.”

Narrel sighed as this mission just seemed to get more dangerous and complicated. “We need to get that intel and get out of here. We have attracted a lot of attention for having been on station for less than an hour.” Narrel doled out the money to the crew going on station so that they could buy what they needed.

---

Soundtrack: Bar Fight Music - Lil Darkie

---

The crew began to depart in small groups. Everyone on the team had hardwired cybernetic implants that connected to the ship and Martok. It allowed them to be tracked and gave them communication with the ship. The teams split up to see what they could find out. Kravik had left with Jaxori, Dinari, and Qixani. Qixani was pretending to be a guard for Jaxori and Dinari. She would try to find a place later on station where she could go into stealth mode leaving them to negotiate on their own. They all followed the signage that said that the passageway led to the bazaar. They followed the hallway around the curve and it made a 90 degree angle turning deeper into the center of the station. There were some shops in the hallway outside the main bazaar area and a bar. The hallway opened up into a huge shopping area with multiple levels. There were vendors set up everywhere in a crazy haphazard maze.. Some had a tarp with a pile of goods on it, some had mobile carts and stands. Others had storefronts built into the edges of this crazy makeshift shopping area.

Kravik left them and went straight to the bar. He slapped a spy eye up high pretending he had stumbled into the wall and caught himself. No one seemed to notice anything strange. He was attracting attention though. He assumed it was because word had gotten out that a new ship had docked. He went up to the bar and ordered a drink. The bar was made out of one piece of sheet metal that looked like it could have been a former ship part. Maybe part of a starfighter wing? The tables and furnishing were all mismatched. Some of the chairs and tables looked like they had started life as part of something else. The stools at the bar were each different and welded together from scrap metal and bolted to the floor. They all have padded seats made out of the same black material. He carefully planted some spy eyes on the underneath side of the bar while he waited. He took his drink and went to find a booth in the back where he could watch the entrance and his back was to a wall. He openly scanned his drink to make sure it was not spiked with anything and wouldn’t hurt him. Just alcohol made from something. It took all of Krayvik’s acting ability not to spit the vile drink out. It was foul tasting and felt like acid in his mouth. He would make it look like he was drinking. He settled in to watch, wait, and listen. Taking note of who was in the bar and what was happening.

Krayvik didn’t have to wait long before Vargon showed up. The Rapaxani had orange and black striped fur. He looked older to Krayvik.

Vargon spotted him immediately and sat down. Vargon chuckled and pointed to his drink. “What the hell did you order that for? It takes like Varga piss and burns like acid.”

Krayvik sighed and pushed his almost untouched drink away from him. “I knew I should have waited for you before ordering. That is the vilest alcohol I have ever tasted!”

Vargon threw his head back and laughed. “I can tell your not from around here. Why don’t you let me order?”

Krayvik nodded and handed over some of the free credit chips he had on him.

Vargon nodded and went to the bar and came back with two glasses and a bottle of a blue drink. He flipped the stopper and poured two glasses. “This brandy made from some blue fruit that grows in these parts. It makes decent alcohol.” Vargon saluted him with his glass.

Krayvik returned the salute and sipped cautiously this time. This time it was slightly sweet and thick but had a kick to it. It had a smooth finish. “That’s not bad. A little sweet for my taste but so much better than that other stuff.”

Vargon sipped his drink along with him. He relaxed back into his seat. He watched Krayvik with a pondering look.

Krayvik simply jumped right into it. “How long have you been here? When was the last time you saw Dax? What can you tell me about this place?”

Vargon shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “Darn youngsters are always in a hurry.” He sighed and took a bigger drink before looking up at Krayvik. “I have never seen our homeworld. My parents took where they could. They were not very educated. They finally became crew on a trading vessel. Mom cooked and cleaned for the crew and passengers and dad did maintenance work and cargo handling. There are quite a few Daxini in this area of space. Similar stories, folks who didn’t make it out before the large battles in the area stranded them. I have run into a few who were still slaves. This is a very lawless place. Pirates and slavers are common in this area. Be careful and watch yourself on this station. This station is neutral territory but all are welcome here.” Vargon took another drink and quirked an eyebrow at Krayvik. “I have heard only rumors about Dax. Some of those passing through know nothing about them, others say that all the Daxini have moved onto space stations as the worlds are uninhabitable after Yrrani were done with them. Some say it is a cramped shithole not worth visiting. What’s really going on?”

Krayvik nodded and proceeded to fill him in on more recent Daxini history. “The Yrrani had enslaved our people and exploited our worlds. Then they left and some of our people came home. We know some of our people are still out in the greater galaxy, the lost ones that never came home. At the time our people didn’t have the resources to try and find them. Our homeworlds were trashed, the environments poisoned with industrial pollution. There was not enough food to feed everyone. Then we had a leader rise to show us the way. We took everything we learned from the Yrrani and used it to save ourselves. We eventually managed to clean up the pollution on the planets. Xi’Abek had to be completely terraformed. Our people lost their history and culture. It was taken by the Yrrani. We found a better way and embraced a new way of life. The Daxini Conclave now trades with other nations, we can protect our people now. Outsiders are not welcome on our worlds, but all Daxini are.” Krayvik leaned closer to Vargon. “If you wish to go home, all you have to do is ask. We will take you. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, you can share that with other Daxini you run into.”

Vargon looked a little surprised and then shook his head. “I wouldn’t fit in there. I know nothing about the homeworld or its culture. I am an old man. I will pass on the word to other Daxini I run into though. Is there a way to get a hold of the homeworld if someone needs help leaving?” Vargon looked around the bar and lowered his voice. “Many Daxini in this area of space live poor lives, with little education. They lack resources to go home. What should I tell them?”

Krayvik tilted his head in thought. He knew that the long distance quantum paired communicators were expensive and rare. He didn’t know if the ship had another one. “If you can get a message back to Dax with the situation, they will send help. Even if it is a rumor from a trading vessel coming through. We will investigate them all.”

Vargon didn’t look very convinced so Krayvik smirked and winked at him. “Why do you think we are here?”

Vargon looked surprised at that. “Well I thought you were here to trade.” He sounded uncertain.

Krayvik kept his voice low as he told him sarcastically. “And we just happened to find this station in the navigation hazard that is the debris field in this region of space? Why would we think there would be a station here? We didn’t but we heard rumors that there were Daxini trapped along the Scorched Line.” Krayvik met his eyes with a meaningful look.

Vargon nodded in understanding. “I will spread the word. Take my warning seriously though. There are those who will oppose what you want to do. In this area of space Might makes Right is the law of the land.” Krayvik nodded as he took another drink of the blue liquor.

---

Soundtrack: Sneaky badass spy music for writing - Abbie Emmons

---

Jaxori, Dinari, and Qixani left Krayvik at the bar and moved forward to enter the bazaar. Their translators were working overtime to keep up with all the languages around them. They saw more Daxini, humans, Lokoids, Dathu,and Vrunak. It was a true intergalactic trading depot with almost all the known races being represented. Jaxori spotted a pair of BioMech Union missionaries. They always gave him the creeps. They were zealots preaching about the sanctity of metal and the weakness of flesh. They always made him uneasy due to the strength of their beliefs. Sometimes being telepathic was not a blessing.

Dinari looked around the massive shopping area and pointed out a food vendor. “Maybe we should try to peddle our wares with them.”

And so the three moved around the bazaar noting what was for sale and who was selling it. They managed to sell some of their cargo. Fresh food was something the station often didn’t see. They got a lot of imported processed foods but rarely whole fruits, vegetables, and grains. Qixani continued to play guard for the pair posing as the merchants from the ship trying to unload their cargo and find one worth buying to take its place. They roamed through the bizarre marketplace but didn’t really run into any tech that they were unfamiliar with. They did run into races from all over known space. Qixani had stopped numerous pickpockets.

They drew a great deal of attention. Word had definitely gotten out that a new ship had docked. Many were interested in their cargo but were hoping to buy for personal needs but they wanted to trade and honestly Dinari had not run across anything yet worth trading for.

Jaxori wrinkled his nose up as the smell of the food on offer from a local vendor smelled awful to his sensitive nose. The food cooking smelled of charred carbon and little else. He could smell the preservatives in it that told of heavy processing. He was pretty sure it would taste like the cardboard it probably came in. They did note that illicit substances were freely traded in the open. Jaxori's sensitive nose picked up on common recreational drugs that they had encountered in the past. The stench of burnt chemicals in the air hinted they were manufactured on station in the shop where the scent was coming from.

They also noted that there were slaves on the station but no one batted an eye about them. The slaves wore collars based on Yrrani design to control them. They didn’t see a place selling slaves though. The slave auction must be underground or slavery was tolerated on the station but they didn’t actively take part in the slave trade. The station just turned a blind eye to it.

They did sell some cargo to one of the food vendors who offered to pay in precious metals. They contacted the ship to have Turrly deliver the cargo to the vendor and pick up payment. They sent the details of the agreement back to the ship. They placed spy eyes in shops they visited in the bazaar. After fully exploring the shops in the bazaar, they returned to the ship.

Qixani ducked into an alcove on the way back to the ship and went into stealth mode. She wanted to check out the administration area. She wanted to try and find a way to help Martok with getting information off the computers. Qixani activated her stealth suit, disappearing from cameras and the naked eye. The suit uses holographic technology to project what would be on the other side of her. Tech built into the suit blocked her from detection by infrared and heat sensors and cameras. She was careful to move slowly to avoid detection. She made it into the administration offices. Which turned out to be a joke on them, the only thing in there was the control center for the station and Gerard. Qixani waited for the right moment when Gerard stepped out of the control room before moving quickly to install a hard connection for Martok. She made sure to plug the universal connection into a port on the backside that was not seen easily. She then set up a few spy eyes that would be hidden and out of sight. She then moved quickly out of the office. She stopped in a shadowy alcove close to the Exchange Office before shutting down her stealth suit. She then walked down the corridor like she was leaving the Exchange Office and headed back to the ship.

In the meantime, Prixoni was investigating the residential side of the station. He roamed freely planting spy eyes and listening to the chatter around him. Prixoni didn’t learn anything new that others had not learned. He did make contact with more Daxini in the residential section. He did his best to spread the word discreetly that if they wanted to leave they would be welcome. He had received much the same response as Krayvik had from Vargon. They didn’t feel any connection to the homeworld. They didn’t think they would fit in there. Prixoni was frustrated by that. He had dedicated his life to protecting his people. He wanted to join the Eagle Eyes so that he could make a difference for the lost Daxini in the galaxy. It was frustrating to be thwarted because they seemed content with where they were. He wanted to force them on the ship to take them away from this awful place. The place stank of old air that was not cleaned as well as it should. The whole station felt old and fragile like it was one loose bolt away from coming apart. He knew that it would be wrong to take that choice away from them. He was almost happy to get into a fight with a gang of thugs who thought to rob him. He left them in a pile of broken limbs and bruises before going on his way. At least the fight bled off some of his anger before he headed back to the ship to report in.

They all gathered back at the ship later to report. Narrel compiled everything into a report file and contacted Commander Lennox. He waited for the communications systems to connect. Then he waited while the communication officer on duty patched him through to Commander Lennox. It was a short wait but an annoying one. “Commander Lennox, I have news. We have infiltrated the Station. It is run by a human named Gerard. We have confirmed the rumors of Daxini in the area with a Daxini on station. He was helpful in giving us some background on the area. It is a free for all out here. No one is policing the area. We understand from him that pirates and slavers are in the area. The station was grateful to see our cargo of fresh vegetables, grains, and fruits. There is little of interest on the station. They are selling parts and technology scavenged from the battles fought in the area. We didn’t find anything of note in their shopping district. There was Daxini on the station but the ones we made contact with didn’t want to leave. They feel they will not fit in with mainstream Daxini and culture from home. I have sent a more detailed report for you to review. It includes the coordinates of the station. Your Orders?”

Commander Lennox steepled her fingers and looked deep in thought for the moment. She seemed to come to a decision as she sat straighter and looked at Narrel. “Finish your business on the station and then leave. See what you can leave for the Daxini on the station to help their lot then. It is the least we can do. Then I want you to return to the battle group.”

Narrel saluted Lennox and nodded. “Understood Commander.” Narrel cut the connection on the link.

He had Prixoni, Turrly, and Krayvik take an oversized pallet of food from the cargo bay and deliver it to the Daxini families on the station. It wasn’t much but hopefully a reminder of home would be welcome. They would distribute the food to the Daxini in the residential section.

Krayvik took a bottle of brandy from home that he had been saving from his quarters to gift to Vargon for his assistance. The three men drew attention as they pulled the heavy pallet through the station to the residential section.

Prixoni began to discreetly knock on doors spreading the word as the Daxini residents came to collect a box of fresh food. Other residents approached and were turned away which caused some resentment but Krayvik just flashed his claws and teeth and they were left alone again.

Vargon was appreciative for the liquor from home. He also accepted a box of food from them. He thanked them for the kindness and assured Krayvik he would remember to tell others.

The crew returned to the ship with an empty pallet. They felt eyes on them all the way back to the ship. They reported what had happened in the residential section and that they had eyes on them all the way back to the ship.

Narrel nodded, “I expected it but it was a nice thing to do for those Daxini families.”

Martok broke into the conversation. “Chief I am picking up chatter that some of the ships plan to track us. There is also some chatter that others plan to sell information about our ship. Our cargo was more appreciated than we thought. There is a lot of resentment from those on the station that we didn’t trade more of it. Some of the language would make a hardened warrior blush. Evidently fresh food is scarce in these parts.”

Narrel sighed, “Good job everyone. Now let’s get out of here. Martok prepare for departure and connect me to Black Cloud Station.”

Martok gave an affirmative as he began to go through the check list, making sure everything was buttoned up tight for departure. The call connected “Hello Black Cloud Station, this is the Daxini Ship Adventurer requesting permission to depart.”

He heard Gerard’s voice over the communications link, “Permission granted Adventurer. I am sure we will see you again soon.”

Narrel was worried about the confidence and satisfaction in Gerard’s voice. He shook it off and gave orders to leave.

Martok released the docking clamps. The ship used maneuvering jets to back away from the station. The ship swung smartly in space as they began to head back to the battle group. Martok kept the sensors sweeping on Narrel’s orders expecting some of them to try and follow them. There were a few vessels that left the station to follow them. A few smaller fighter types fired on them but they mostly missed. A cruiser sized ship fired on them but they withstood the blast. Their ship took no damage from the kinetic weapons fire. It didn’t penetrate the ship’s armor. They soon lost them in the debris field as they activated the ship’s cloak.

---

Soundtrack: F-777 Space Battle XMillsa

---

Adventurer arrived back at the staging area a few days later. They had docked with the battle station and were taking some well deserved down time. The crew was in the process of being debriefed by Eagle Eye Chief Ashyr when battle station alarms began ringing through the station. “We are under attack. All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. We are under attack. All hands to battle stations.” The stealth crews were cross trained to help out when working in mixed operations. They all began running to their duty stations.

Commander Lennox was in her office when the alarm began to ring through the station. She quickly ran for the control center. She snapped out “Sitrep” as she took her seat in the command chair. She fastened her restraints that would keep her seated as the station maneuvered during the battle.

Rabasha’s voice was calm but held urgency as she reported. “Kronar Enaki detected unknown ships approaching. They have opened fire on the Gallant and Stormbringer.”

Harlow the weapons officer’s voice was strong and excited as he answered his commander. “They appear to be pirate vessels sir. It appears to be a small pirate fleet. They have a lot of mismatched starfighters, one junk frigate sir, and what looks like a small cruiser.”

Ashyr's voice sounded angry and frustrated as he added. “I should have suspected. I bet they managed to somehow tag the Adventurer with a signal transponder and followed them back to the group.”

Commander Lennox’s voice was calm as she began issuing orders. “Launch our fighters. Have Stormbringer target that frigate and have Gallant target the cruiser. I want them disabled and boarded. Claw Chief Derix prepare the troops for boarding actions. I want to know who these pirates are.”

The pirates were probably expecting to take one small tramp freighter or a small flotilla of trade vessels. They ran right into the teeth of the Daxini battle group. They had been seriously outgunned. The fight was over almost before it started. The cruiser managed to get some shots in but only caused minor damage. Most of the damage deflected by the shields. Most of the starfighters either were blown to bits or they surrendered in fear once they saw the numbers they were facing. The pirate frigate got in a few shots at the surprised Daxini vessels but caused only minor damage before being captured. The investigation revealed that the ships were all salvaged from the battles in the area and older model ships from different nations.

Ashyr had imprisoned the pirates for interrogation. They learned that the pirate fleet was operating under Gerard's orders. They had indeed followed a signal device that had been shot and implanted into the Adventurer’s hull. Now the question was did they go back and confront Gerard or let this insult go?

Hell’s Gate 7
220 km north of Cadmagh
2:38 AM

The black form of Hell’s Gate 7’s southern side blocked out the light of the stars like a jagged wall of flare stacks and towers, stretching from one side of the horizon to the other and high in the night sky. A team of three Baranese laid down among the bushes atop a nearby hill, hiding under thermal cloaks. The constant, distant cacophony of industry on an unthinkable scale had been worrying at their nerves for hours while they observed the dark mass with night vision binoculars, trying to discern an opening.

“Perhaps we should turn back.” Captain Drystan was gruff, his voice harsh from yelling orders for twenty-five years of service in the Caerthen 4th Highlanders.

“We still have time before the sun rises,” Ariana replied flatly.

“My lady, we have only been here for five hours. Finding an entrance can take several days, if we are too impatient-”

“Are you calling me rash, captain?” The red-haired young woman’s voice snapped despite being almost as quiet as a whisper.

“No, I…”

“We are staying until dawn.”

“As you command, my lady.”

A handful of minutes passed before the third member of the team spoke up. “Captain. There’s… Oh, stars above…” He was audibly shaken as he kept his gaze fixed on a point on Hell’s Gate 7’s flank.

“Sergeant Cadfael. Report.” The officer’s order cracked like a whip and snapped the younger soldier out of his shock.

“A door is opening. Eighteen degrees, ground level. It’s too large to be a Chimera, the Gate is releasing a Harvester!”

The rest of the trio followed the directions with their own binoculars. The side of the structure was parting like a monstrous vertical maw, impossibly large and yet small compared to the vastness of the Gate. The ground trembled as multiple trains of gargantuan treads hauled a mess of oversized metal shredders, mining diggers, cranes and refineries out of Hell’s Gate 7, like a monster giving birth to another.

“There’s our opening.” Ariana put the binoculars away, getting up to one knee and checking her gear. Drystan did the same, while Cadfael tightened the sling of a heavy plasma cutter to his shoulder while hurriedly murmuring a prayer. “Spirits of my ancestors watch over me and guide my steps into darkness, spirits of Antar protect me from evil and aberration, spirits of my fathers give me your strength…”

Ariana of House Gwynn said a silent prayer as well, for the men who would soon stand in the defence of Cadmagh against the Harvester.

The run from the hill to the Gate seemed like it would never end. Ariana’s every instinct screamed at her to stop and turn back as she struggled to keep her balance on the ground trembling from the passage of the Harvester, the sounds of countless of industrial machinery pieces growing louder and louder. She expected weapons to open fire at any moment, her body blown apart by explosions or scorched by particle beams from a thousand invisible emplacements. But nothing came, and they reached the huge door the moment it began to close.

They had made it into Hell’s Gate 7. The easy part was over.

Drystan took the lead as the group started to make their way deeper inside, flashlights clutched in their hands. There was no light apart from sparks showers coming from assembly lines and molten metal flowing from crucibles the size of small lakes. The interior of the Gate alternated between vertiginous and claustrophobic, confusing and nonsensical, with oddly shaped rooms, warped corridors akin to tight, sinuous tunnels and chasms stretching deep down into inscrutable darkness. It was not a place made with human workers in mind, no marked pathways, no secure catwalks. Every single hazard inherent to heavy industries was magnified a hundredfold as the automated lines busied themselves with their endless work.

Ariana and her companions had put on gas masks to protect against the vapours of countless chemicals, marking their way back with phosphorescent paint every few steps for nearly three hours of grueling progress. Drystan checked the scanning device held in his hand regularly, following the largest power lines as best he could. Perhaps he was distracted by the scanner’s display. Perhaps he was simply in the wrong spot at the wrong time and took a fraction of a second too long to notice the vibrations under the metal floor beneath his feet. It mattered not, as he only had time to scream as the floor opened under him to let through a piece of unfinished chassis, carried by dented chains embedded in the walls. The captain was caught between the chassis and another piece of alloy pressed from the side by a robotic arm. Drystan’s screams were cut short as his lower body and abdomen were crushed, blood oozing between the metal plates and filling his gas mask with sickening crunches of broken bones and gurgling noises, even as the uncaring assembler bolted the chassis pieces together.

“Captain!” Cadfael extended his arm as if he could grab his superior and pull him out, but Drystan was dragged up and disappeared into the ceiling through another opening along with the unfinished machine that he was embedded in. The only trace that remained of captain Drystan was a pool of blood on the floor.

In shock, Ariana had to lean against the wall. She had known Drystan since she was little. A trusted servant of her uncle, an officer of the famed Caerthan 4th, ‘Gwynn’s Woodsmen’. And he was gone, swallowed by the Gate in the blink of an eye. Only when sergeant Cadfael grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her did she realize that she was hyperventilating.

“My lady!” His voice sounded distant, but it did snap Ariana out of her stupor. She could see the young soldier’s tears through his gas mask. “My lady, we cannot stay here!”

She nodded, forcing herself to move. Both of them crawled into a nearby tunnel and soon hit a dead end, where they allowed themselves a minute to breathe and collect themselves. Ariana’s ears were ringing, her hands still trembling. Huddled next to her, Cadfael sobbed quietly. She reached to hold his arm.

“Sergeant. Cut through this wall.”

“Wh- My lady?” Cadfael seemed dumbfounded.

“This one. We’ll go through. We are close.” She had no idea where this conviction came from. In that moment, it was as if she simply knew that her goal was near.

“My lady, if I cut a cable we’ll surely be found…”

“Do it.”

The engineer gulped and, after some squirming, applied his bulky plasma cutter to the metallic wall. Two minutes later, a roughly circular hole had been cut out, the edges still glowing red from the superheated plasma. As he peered through, Cadfael’s face went livid. “A cable. We have to go right now!”

The pair hurried through the hole, only to discover that they had ended up on a platform above a huge canyon. There was nowhere to go, save for a container hanging from some sort of monorail above the abyss. The rail itself went down in the darkness below amongst a tangle of power lines and other rails. Ariana looked around frantically, looking for a way forward, somewhere to hide, anything. And then she fell, something with inhuman strength having clamped down on her ankle and dragged her to the ground. All she saw was a formless clump of metallic limbs, one of which held her legs, others raising various cutting tools, before its core was vaporised with a blinding flash. Leaving the drone inert on the floor, Cadfael aimed his plasma cutter to the limb that held Ariana and cut it as well. Loud clanking noises came from the hole through which they came through, growing closer and closer.

“There’s more Beasts coming!” The sergeant helped Ariana to her feet.

“There! Climb up on it!” She pointed at the monorail container and ran towards it, climbing on top of it and offering her hand to Cadfael to follow suit. “Cut the coupling!”

Cadfael was beyond questioning her orders at this point, and just as a horde of drones burst forth onto the platform, the container was cut loose by a plasma burst. With nothing to hold it in place, the container began rolling down the rail and into the chasm, slowly at first and then picking up more and more speed. Sparks flew from the wheels supporting the carriage as it took sharp turns one after the other while plummeting down. Both Ariana and Cadfael struggled to hold on to whatever they could grab. One particularly violent turn sent them rolling to one side, the engineer going over the edge and barely holding on to the rim of the container. Ariana grabbed his wrist and forearm, trying to help him get back on, before another shake sent him falling down.

“No!” Ariana’s cry out was the last thing she did before the container slammed into a hard surface with tremendous force with a thunderous crash, sending both it and the young woman flying. Her head impacted violently onto something, and everything went black.

Pain tore her away from merciful oblivion, a pounding, heavy pain in her head. Only then did the rest of her senses begin to come back. She was laying on her back on a cold, slightly sloped platform. Darkness was near-total, but she could discern a humanoid silhouette knelt beside her. She did not need to see his face, as she already knew who he was.

“Cadfael.” Her voice was pitifully weak, but she did not care. Right now, she was just glad to see him. The deep dark of the chasm was eerily quiet compared to the rest of the Gate above.

“Lady Ariana! Blessed stars, you’re awake.” Relief was evident in his tone, and he sighed. “I feared…” He shook his head.

“I saw you fall..” She began, having difficulty swallowing as there didn’t seem to be a part of her body that was not hurting.

“I was fortunate. I fell on some cables. They broke my fall, and I climbed back up to you. Though… I’m not sure that it will change much. We’re at least five hundred meters below ground now. There’s little hope of us getting back out, much less finding an Ironclad.” Cadfael sounded defeated. There was no panic in his voice, simply a reasonable assessment of their situation.

But Ariana shook her head, a motion that pain made her immediately regret. “No… We’ve found it.” She murmured.

Cadfael was taken aback for an instant. “My lady?”

“Take my flashlight. Look.”

The sergeant obeyed and lit up the surrounding darkness. At first he saw nothing in particular, as the powerful beam of light illuminated the structure on which they had taken refuge. But then, he realised that the platform they were on was no platform at all. It was one of the armor plates of a monumental shoulder.

“We have found it… My Ironclad.” Ariana struggled to sit up. “Sergeant Cadfael, I must ask for your help. We will climb up to the head. I must reach the cockpit.”

Cadfael nodded, assisting his lady up on her feet. She could not stand on her own, and he had to carry her on his back, painstakingly climbing up the gigantic machine meter by meter while Ariana clung onto him for dear life. It took an hour of grueling effort from them both and many close calls, but the pair eventually reached a hatch that led inside of the Ironclad’s head and to the cockpit. It was devoid of much of what one would expect from a complex war machine, but the Ironclads did not rely on instruments and displays to interface with their pilots. With great care, the engineer helped Ariana to get out of her military fatigues and boots, leaving her wearing only the sleek black bodysuit that she had underneath. She then stepped into a sort of capsule at the center of the cockpit. A full helmet, which was linked to the top of the capsule by a bundle of cables, rested inside. After she put it on, the capsule closed on its own, and filled up with a viscous shock-absorbing gel. And then, Ariana’s mind reeled with a sudden rush of information as her latent psionics connected with the Ironclad’s arcane technology. She was assaulted by an onslaught of data being projected directly into her mind, weaponry status, motor functions, sensors on spectrums that a human could not witness.

Ariana’s body was not of flesh, bone and blood anymore. It was steel and alloy, electrical cables and armor plating. Deep inside the chest of the Ironclad, the main engine was roused from a timeless slumber. A beating heart. Heat vents began expelling prodigious amounts of byproduct energy, scorching the metal of the Gate outside close to them and setting fire to exposed cabling and polymers. Ariana almost passed out several times under the mental weight of the onslaught of new sensations, yet she still managed to speak with her real mouth. “Cadfael, hang onto something.”

The Ironclad raised a hand as large as a medium-sized building up to the cliff that was the wall of the chasm, its fingers crushing through it with amazing power. Having secured a grip, it did the same with its other arm. Then a leg moved up, as a foot slammed and dug into the wall. With a cacophony of groaning and rupturing metal, Ariana began to climb. Swarms of drones poured out of hatches and gaping holes in the structure of the Gate, furiously seeking to destroy the threat, only to be swatted down by a deluge of fire from the Ironclad’s point defenses. The ascension was over in a matter of a few dozen minutes.

But Ariana did not slow down for a single moment. Her Ironclad poured plasma fire and laser blasts into the Gate from a myriad of weapon systems, tearing chunks out with autocannon shot and the machine’s own hands. She dug through the abominable flesh of the cursed structure again, and again, and again, until the Ironclad burst forth from inside Hell’s Gate 7 and stepped onto the earth, covered in smoking debris and molten metal. It ran, its energy shields being hammered from behind by the Gate’s automated weapons. Alarms and warnings blared directly into Ariana’s mind. Even as the Ironclad go out of range and in the quiet safety of the Baranese countryside, it was all too much for her.

The last thing that Ariana would see before drifting into unconsciousness was a jumbled mess of characters as the systems glitched again. She did not know what was real or what was mere hallucination anymore as they began coalescing into a single word, burning themselves into her mind like a hot iron brand. A name.

“Nazurathal.”