[hr][color=slategray][b]A Monastery[/b][/color][hr]Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. It was a mantra. They needed to repeat it in their thoughts in every second of every waking hour. They were not allowed to stop until their breaths were as uniform as their life. In their youth, it was their first thoughts in the morning and often their last thought before restful sleep. The Good Doctor said this was “the most optimised breathing form a human can have to ensure maximum oxidative phosphorylation efficiency while preventing accelerated decay of the bronchi.” A cold, terrifying chimp that one was. This was unlike Mother, who would always smile at their questions about the mantra and called it the Breath of Life. “Little ones,” she would start, sweeping her grey index across our brows as one sat in her rust-coloured fur “the Breath of Life gives you strength. It gives you energy. It gives you life. And most importantly, it gives me plenty more time to coddle and spoil you.” Her smile would always stretch across her face, in a way that never felt unnatural to them. Her fur felt soft against their hairless skin. Those large appendages for fingers were never feared, always so gentle and quick to caress them. It was because of her that they could breathe like this in their sleep, encouraged to stretch their fragile lives beyond the natural means. All through breathing techniques. Mother was always like that. Through the training regimens they were put through to walk for the first time, she was there to lend a guiding hand. From learning the tones of Mandarin to the alphabet of Cyrillic, she was always quick to correct their bumbling mouths through the teething. She would hold their hands through the operations and vaccines, the constant check-ups, questioning and prodding the Good Doctor would conduct. With barely large enough fists, she taught them all the ways we could suffocate a fully grown human in case for self-defence, something even she felt was unnecessary. Yet she did it, like all of her chores and tasks, with due diligence and utmost care for them all. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sato himself owed a lot to her. Even his own life, or at least he suspects he does. When he started to stumble and stutter over the most basic of Swahili, the Good Doctor had almost repositioned him into therapy. No one ever came back from therapy. Mother stepped in with fury on her lips in a way he had never seen before, forcing the smaller chimpanzee into backing out. She tutored him every night from then on until he was as fluent as the rest of his class. His life near came to an end in his fifth year but she was there to help him, even sweeping the tears from his trembling cheeks and caressing his midnight hair. They could all recount a similar story of Mother helping them, in both significant and insignificant ways. Even when they were old enough to understand that biology came in the way of her being their true mother, she would always be Mother to them. And here she was, their Mother, their sweet and special Mother, so kind and gentle, lying with flowers in her fur and stones on her eyes. Sato knew what death was. He knew of the process of the body shutting down, organs coming to a stop as the homeostasis which kept them alive was disrupted. He knew of every detail of the process, as any self-respecting human should, from animals to plants, from Supremus to humans like himself. He knew death clinically, scientifically and what he thought to be [i]wholly[/i]. But he never knew grief. He knew [i]of[/i] it and maybe he experienced things that nearly made him grieve. The kinder guards would be assigned to other places as their fur grew silver beyond their back. Teachers would be replaced as the limits to their knowledge were reached. And sure, friends would disappear at times to never come back again. But he could always deal with this with his Breath of Life. It gave him strength. It gave him energy. It gave him life. It would make everything disappear and it felt like he could repeat his mantra and everything would be ok. Breathe in. Breathe out. It refused to work this time. It failed to work when Mother had first collapsed in the middle of an impromptu teaching lesson, one of the few escapes from their daily timetable. It failed to work when, after just a few hours, they were informed of her passing from a random brain bleed. It failed to work now, as he stood among many others, staring at her corpse. They stood in the small classroom, one they had used for countless lectures, with her body in an open casket for them to grieve. Each of them had been given a flower to place on her carefully trimmed fur as prayers to the spirits above were uttered on too-small lips. Sato had been staring at her from the back of the line and now, he was at the front. His feet had shuffled automatically, following the orders of what he knew were to be his betters. His caretakers. The ones who taught him the Breath of Life. Yet none of these [i]betters[/i] had saved Mother. From what? A random act? A trip in her genetic build which led her brain to drown in its own blood? The boy of fourteen trembled and shook, unable to control his breath. The Good Doctor, who had been leading them to the open casket, glanced at him wearily as he held an expecting paw out to him. Breathe in. Breathe out [i]Breathe in. Breathe out.[/i] The diminutive human, who was ever so quiet, always by the side of his Mother, clutched the flower in a tight fist. Why? Why was it like this? Why were they afforded everything, every medical expense made to make sure they were healthy, perfect, [i]living[/i], when the one who gave him everything he had would just drop dead like this? Where was the fairness in this? The Good Doctor was speaking to him now, hushed and gentle like he had never been before. Sato could not hear him. [i]Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.[/i] Why? Why was it like this? Why did [i]she[/i] have to die? Why couldn’t she have taken his place in this world, when she had done so much for him? Sato began to shake all over, breath quickly losing its sharp control. Hyperventilating, he noted in a distant part of his mind. This was not healthy at all. But he could not bring himself to care. [i]Breatheinbreatheoutbreatheinbreatheout.[/i] Before the Good Doctor could snatch his arm, Sato about turned and sprinted away from the obvious lie. Mother could not be the one laying there. She would be staying at the observatory as she always did, as she did when she marked all of the constellations personally for him to remember. He sprinted past the bewildered guards, ignoring the shouts of the Good Doctor behind him. He navigated the labyrinth of his home, turning corridor after corridor like he knew them like the back of his hand. He slid under many a primate, escaping their clutches with the deft precision only years of training could give him. Apprehension grew within him. He was [i]disobeying[/i]. He near stumbled out of shock of what he was doing, the shock of disobeying his betters like he was a petulant child. But Sato refused to believe it, he [i]refused[/i]. [b][i]Breatheinbreatheoutbreatheinbreatheout.[/i][/b] This could not be real, Sato repeated like a mantra. This could not be real. He ascended the steps to one of the few open-air venues of the Monastery. He frantically searched for anything, anything at all that would suggest that Mother was here, playing a cruel game of hide and seek with him. Nothing. Not a single fur on the console. Not a single breath filling this space aside from his own. And even his feverous panting was interrupted by a sudden glint in the sky. His eyes darted towards the position of New Gift’s sun and around the blue sky above. It did not match any of the known stars he knew. And what star could shine so bright in daylight. He stared blankly, distantly aware of the thuds behind him. “Mother?” The boy whispered quietly, staring at that shining glint in an otherwise featureless sky. “Mother? Is that you? Are you there?” Nothing. Nothing but the blazing light on a blue canvas. Nothing but the tears rolling down his cheeks. Breathe in. Breathe out. The rough paws around his arms and the sharp [i]jab[/i] he felt was miles away from him now. He could only smile at his Mother, twinkling ever so brightly in the sky, giving him warmth and the tingling in his fingers he only felt with her. The last thing he knew was a glimpse of the Good Doctor in his blurring vision, disappointment evident behind those curious spectacles of his. “I knew this one was defective. Send him to rehabilitation.” And Sato knew no more. The opening of the Gateway continued undisturbed by the life stopped.[hr][color=slategray]Tellus[/color][hr]Where there was peace for some, chaos was life for others. The frontier continent of Tellus, known for its vast amount of resources was also the site of many a “small” conflict between roving warbands of raiders and the city-states which eked out an existence from the smaller landmass. It was a constant struggle for survival here and death could come at any time. Why do simians come from all around to come here? The riches and glory of course. It was constant. The staccato rhythm of gunfire, the stamping feet around her. The blood staining her surroundings, the rubble of homes she trampled around. Even the night sky and the shadows it cast did not hide the destruction surrounding her. Corellia checked her rifle, a militia standard Kalashnikov Type IIA in a metallic grey, before peeking out of her corner and sending short bursts down range. Grenade-like rounds spewed forth, mini-rockets which slammed into marked combatant positions a hundred meters from her. She kept her fire up until the ammunition counter on her AR screen went to zero and she was forced back to her cover, scorching plasma slinging itself to her previous position, the residual heat tingling her exposed arms. “[i]Putos![/i] Where’s the fuckin’ Legion when you need them?!” Her number two, a burly gorilla called Titus, merely grunted in bemusement as he swapped with her as she reloaded, shoulder cannon peeking past the melting concrete to spew hell at whatever poor bastard breathed there. Corellia’s fire team had been making headway in Neo Brasilia as part of an offensive to wrestle control from the Caesar wannabes that dared to pick on a Khanate sanctioned city. It had been door to door fighting for every inch of the way but they had gotten separated from the rest of her detachment by a surprise counterattack. They were now isolated, cut off from the rest of the militia deep in enemy territory. Their former target was a mere hundred meters away, the former mayoral office of a now-dead Brasilian government. “Titus.” She remarked as the bulky cannoneer displaced himself from the firing line. “Battlenet’s reporting you only have five cannon shot left. That true or is the system glitching?” Titus backed away from the smouldering street corner and glanced back at her. “Tis true Battle-Sergeant, I have exhausted much of my ammunition on the way here.” Holding back a curse, Corellia glanced back at the rest of her mishmash squad. Two local chimpanzee recruits nervously clutching rifles like hers and a single shield-brother. They had been cut down ape by ape by this damned counterattack. INFOWAR chimed in her headset. >Warning: Ten hostiles inbound from the northwest corridor from OBJECTIVE MONEYGRAB >Warning: Fireteam designated CARNIVAL outnumbered, recommend immediate extraction >No friendly units in a two-hundred-meter radius “[i]Mierda![/i] Where’s our air support?” >Drone support unavailable, recommend immediate extraction. They were so damn close! There was an extra ten thousand pot to choose from for the first fireteam into that damnable building. She felt expectant eyes bore themselves into her. Well, they were already in it deep, and so a plan took shape in Corellia’s head. The raiders were whooping and hollering as they blasted plasma on the militia’s position. With their enemy cut off and running low on supplies, the scum felt exhilarated enough to begin an advance towards their enemy’s untenable position where they were cowering. Near a dozen of them advanced on orders to kill the baboons. Instead, they were met by a sudden charge led by an albino gorilla with a massive bulky shield at least his width and height. A cannon peaked over the side and started spewing thunder at the unsuspecting raiders. A pair of raiders were cut apart in two by a shell, smeared into red paste as the militiamen charged with wordless screams. >Eight hostiles inbound. Thirty hostiles within OBJECTIVE MONEYGRAB. The plasma made deep marks in the shield as they continued on, rifle fire coming into play with explosive bursts making short work of unsuspecting raiders. >Five hostiles in immediate proximity. Thirty hostiles within OBJECTIVE MONEYGRAB. They remained in cover, peeking out to return fire as they continued a headlong charge into a wall of enemy fire. One of the locals was cut down when he peeked from cover at an unfortunate time, head burned off by the opposing barrage. The cannon barked twice in retaliation. >Four hostiles, DANGER CLOSE. “Charge faster, you [i]putos![/i] The shield is going to fall!” Titus’ cannon remarked twice more before clicking dry, killing the remaining clusters of raiders in front of them. Just as they reached ten meters from doorstep of the mayoral house, the shield melted apart in the albino shield-brother’s hands from the plasma sent from their objective, a pained shriek echoing in the streets as metal burned into unsuspecting paws. The other local leaped out of the way of the falling shield-brother but was clipped once in the shoulder and once in the chest, crumpling to the ground. >Thirty hostiles within OBJECTIVE MONEYGRAB After dragging the albino to the doorway, Corellia and Titus broke into the mayoral house with reckless abandon. The ground level was split between a bar and a mezzanine of all things. The Battle-Sergeant laid down suppressive fire on the raiders situated on the mezzanine as her trusty number two laid into raiders unfortunate enough to be near him. Limbs flew, apes were blown apart and the perfectly replicated Latin-inspired bar underwent a sudden makeover. >Fifteen hostiles within OBJECTIVE MONEYGRAB >Ammunition: EMPTY Dispatching the upper raiders quickly enough, Corellia leaped and climbed up one of the myriad poles unto the mezzanine. “Titus you monkey! I’ll see you upstairs!” With another bemused grunt below and a following screech from another amputated raider, the Battle-Sergeant found the emergency climbing corridor and followed through. She climbed like her life depended on it (which, with how deep in the shit they were, it probably was) till she reached the upper level door. Grabbing unto the climbing steps with her lower appendages, she withdrew her militia-issued hand club in her free hand while grabbing her rifle by its steaming barrel and with a quick pump of her legs, she crashed into upper level. >Six hostiles, DANGER CLOSE Corellia slammed her hand club into the first hostile she met, the orangutan’s head bursting like a watermelon from the enhanced swing. The emergency corridor had led her to a presumed secretary’s room. Weaving under a scorching plasma bolt, she used her rifle as another makeshift blunt object to send the neck of another orangutan twisting like in a physically impossible way. The other two bastards in the secretary room withdrew their crude two sided blades and charged at her together. Corellia let one slide with a metallic screech against her club as she sent the butt of her rifle into the face of the other raider, smashing his face in so bloody that it became unrecognisable with the brains oozing out of his skull. Unfortunately, she had put too much into that jab and her rifle became a useless clump in her paw. “Die, Khan-slave!” The chimp left alive, snarling with anger, sent a thrust to her abdomen. Corellia parried, spinning her club by its string to deflect the blade. She sent a jabbing riposte to her opponent’s skull but the crazy bastard opened his jaw to reveal serrated metal teeth which chewed into her titanium club. The spat out remains of her club sent to her eye startled her enough that she nearly missed the following stab to her stomach. Pushing the bastard away and scrambling from the crazed raider in front of her, Corellia felt bile rising from her throat. Alright, time for her backup. With an unceremonious splat, she covered her opponent’s face with a precise spit ball of her own. The raider blinked once, then another, before he started screaming in agony as skin blistered and fur melted away. “You fuckin’ Legion freak-!” Corellia flashed her teeth at the now-melting face of her adversary, his eyeballs sliding to the ground as she casually picked up his discarded weapon. Acidic bile was a beloved enhancement among former Legionnaires like herself after all. The raider scum fell to the ground in a pile of whimpers and curses. She spun the blade in her hand to feel its balance before steeling herself, gazing upon the ornate double doors leading to the mayor’s office ahead. >Two hostiles, DANGER CLOSE “Third times the charm huh? Spirits bless my [i]culo[/i].” The Battle-Sergeant muttered before barging through the doors, blade in hand and splinters flying. The chaos, the fighting, the blood spilt. It masked the explosion which shone bright in the sky. One that would change the course of history itself. One that would make these petty conflicts, and the lives lost within, feel so insignificant in comparison. The opening of the Gateway continued undisturbed by the lives ongoing.[hr][color=slategray][i]Terra Supremus[/i][/color][hr]The aging gorilla scratched his arse, picking a tick out of his silver fur and inspecting it before crushing it in his paw. Perhaps one should have more emotion to such a momentous occasion but he grumbled more about the utter unfairness of it all. This was supposed to be his retirement post. Who thought the colony ship would be [i]needed[/i] at any point in his lifetime? It was a museum piece which sat stationary over the Khan’s capital on New Gift, occasionally making the rounds to take the Khan around the system in their flights of fancy. At least his extensive drills were proven to be effective in a real-life mission. The bridge crew were dutiful as ever, tending to their many tasks over the command bridge. Everything had been set in place as it should be, every system checked thrice, every inch of this museum ship cleaned. Despite the fear of flight the primates held in their hearts, the entire crew had been hard at work in getting this, ancestors forgive him, pile of buckets and scraps spaceborne. He swore under his breath at the mountain of paperwork awaiting him at his desk. He did [i]not[/i] want to be here. “Must you be so crass, Admiral?” A soft voice spoke behind him, taking him out of his revelry at the cosmos stretched in front of his floor-to-ceiling monitor. Admiral Sun-sin snorted, nostrils flaring in playful annoyance. He took a glance at the one furless being on the ship, now standing next to him on the bridge. A long red-fur carpet lay under her bare feet, preventing any of the cold metal of the ship to touch her. Not a single thing could come to harm her on this trip, not even the subtle temperature change of metal on furless skin. A handful of simians came up from their stations to look at her in awe before Sun-sin glared them back into submissive duty. He could not blame them. She was likely the first human they had ever seen. “Forgive me Princess Ndongo but I am no admiral. What is an admiral without a fleet?” “A poor one?” She smirked at him, eyes filled with mirth. Sun-sin snorted again. “The Khan may be changing that soon enough.” As soon as word came of the Gateway opening, the Khan had come to swift action. He opened the treasuries for plans to future shipyards and a diversion of Khanate spending sent towards the Legion. He sent for ambassadors far and wide from each city state, for delegates must be present in case of contact with other beings beyond the system. He sent a detachment of his own children, most significantly a Herald and his one human daughter, to lead the Khanate into the stars. [color=cd5c5c]”Let no expense be too much, no detail too little. We will set forth into the stars with a swiftness that no other can rival. To be proper inheritors of mankind, we must be [i]first[/i]. to see our home. If we are not first, then we must be second. If not second, then third. We must take fast action lest we embarrass the spirits.”[/color] And so it was, that they now blasted towards the Gateways at sub-light speeds greater than any ape has ever gone since the first exodus. Though the [i]Terra Supremus[/i] was unarmed beyond a detachment of void-drones magnetically clamped to its hull, it was built with great engines that spanned near the entirety of its length. She was a swift ship, despite her age. “Indeed, Admiral. Our father has spared no expense in making sure we get to Earth as soon as possible.” Sun-sin flicked his eyes to the other voice, an orangutan held aloft in an ornate wooden palanquin coming to his other side. The Herald was always a stickler to traditions and thus, his feet never touched uncleansed floors. Unbecoming of a Khan’s son after all, to bump shoulders with the rabble. “I assume that all precautions have been made for my sister’s safety?” “Of course, my Herald. Beyond being first to Old Earth, the Khan has decreed your sister’s safety to be of utmost importance. Our Legion attaches and their modified void-drones will be enough to ensure swift escape if we encounter hostile forces.” It was strange for the Khan to let a human, let alone his most precious Orator, out of his sight. He likely trusted that Sun-sin, her old bodyguard from the Monastery, and her closest playmate in Herald Temuujin, would keep her safe enough. Oh, that and the Legionnaires in the hundreds sworn to protecting her like their lives depended on it. Which it most likely did. “Good good. Let us enter the Gateway then Admiral. We must follow our father’s orders to be there first after all.” The orangutan’s palanquin turned to face his sister, worry evident in his otherwise listless blinded eyes. “Perhaps you should return to your quarters, sister? It may be unsafe.” In that sing-song voice of hers, Ndongo declined. “My fathers and mothers of before came to this system through the Gateways. I would do them no disservice by cowering away from what they bravely set forth into.” Great was the power she wielded, Sun-sin noted, for her to openly deny a request from her brother. Setting this aside, Sun-sin lifted himself off his knuckles and spread his great arms wide. “Let us set forth into the dark cosmos! Helmsmen, lead us to Old Earth!” And thus the ship blinked out of New Gift’s cradle. “Corny old ape.” “Yes, that was quite embarrassing Admiral.” Bloody youth, they never appreciated the beauty of grand gestures. They would soon end up in a system no Supremus had ever stepped forth into. Into an eight-planet system none of them had laid their eyes on. Into the pages of history they went, naïve of the troubles which laid ahead. The Gateway blazed “behind” them, undisturbed by history in the making.