A number of thoughts run through Casper's head once Elías made his offer. Ji-Ieh, an island nation centered between the UCS, Sañira, and Swehteir. A center of trade, Ji-Ieh lacked any real source of natural resources, though it was still among the world's most wealthiest countries. The island in question, was one of Ji-Ieh's few sources, and was claimed by both Ji-Ieh, and Sañira. The island was also part of a cooperative effort between Sanctus and Ji-Ieh, and while Sanctus was already rather isolationist, its loss would still be a telling blow, especially if Sañira was behind it. If the UCS was to lend its support to Sañira in annexing the island, they would risk the ire of Sanctus, and possibly Swehteir, who was currently, the only one willing to help in the Gödel issue who didn't have any possible outstanding demands from the UCS in exchange for their aid.

"I see..." Casper started, attempting to stay diplomatic. He then decided that diplomacy could kindly go screw itself, and went with to being blunt. "And why, Inquisitor Elías, should I accept an offer that would, quite frankly, piss off a fair number of big players on the world stage? I'm sure I could go to Sanctus for aid on this matter, and I'm doubly sure they'd be more willing to offer it when they hear that my only choice is to make this particular deal with you." Casper gritted his teeth, and hoped his bluff would work out.

I-Sphere Space

Within minutes of receiving the message, the crew of the Jetha -- the first research ship -- had it transferred to the ship's massive computers, normally used for DNA processing. Linguists on board the ship, long lacking a new subject, also began to view the message. The brute force method of the computers would take ages if left alone, but the linguists would be able to add their theories along the way, hopefully speeding up the process. However, what was nearly immediately deciphered were the attached coordinates. Punching the information into the smaller bridge computers, they narrowed down the locations in the system that the coordinates could be referring to, and decided the Jovian's moon was the most logical one.

The astrogators did their work, and the pilots initiated a brief burn. The Jetha was therefore set on course for a lunar flyby, after which, it would fall into an orbit around the Jovian. It was risky, heading towards a set of coordinates without context. It could just as easily be a warning as an invitation. The crew of the research ship could only hope that they weren't fired upon, as the Jetha was fragile and the cargo valuable. In the event of attack, however, the six frigates following behind could release their nuclear payloads rapidly and avenge the fallen.

The second of the research ships, Sajaga, having heard of the first's plan, took an alternate route, burning straight into an orbit around the Jovian. She found no need to expose herself, especially when her sister already intended to do so.

Hours passed as the ships sped through the void. When it was finally in visual range of the moon, it slowed, just enough that it would whip around the satellite and fall into place around the Jovian. As it passed, the vulnerability of the ship would be obvious to all who were looking, the Jetha's structure thin and hull minimal on the many rings around its spine and the fuel tanks around its tail. The assault frigates were a different matter, bulky and lacking rings. The crew hoped the contrast would be apparent, as they passed above the moon's surface.

As the Jetha burned towards the small moon, preparations were hastily conducted. One of the satellite platforms arrayed about the edge of the largest industrial-colony complex flared with the light of a booster rocket. A shuttle climbed into orbit, reaching up to meet with one of the many vessels that waited around the moon; cargo haulers, tugs, a scattering of light warships, civilian liners and corporate yachts.

As the Jhinga ship approached, it would find a corvette matching trajectories and flying alongside it. The alkay vessel would flash its exterior lights and cycle its airlocks, once again sending a transmission.

Yddr Colonial Authority said You will slow your trajectory and take up a stable orbit above this moon. A contact team has been mobilized aboard this craft to enact diplomatic talks; please provide a point of entry and ready a diplomatic team who may discuss the matter of your fleet's arrival in this system and the jurisdictional matters it raises.

The Jhingese ship once again forwarded the message to its processing computers, queuing it up for processing. So far, the linguists believed they had identified "Yddr States" and "Iliptic Sphere" as proper nouns, but had yet to find meaning in them. They had also figured out "you" and the forms thereof, or at least they thought they did.

The crew was nervous as the corvette flew alongside them, but the Jhingese manning the telescopes pointed out the flashing lights and the opening airlock. Taking another gamble, an airlock on fore end of the ship was opened. The airlock's lights flashed in matching hue and rhythm to the corvette's, and a pressurized docking tunnel* extended from it, the magnetic grapples on the end waiting.

Oblivious to the alkay's messages, the ship maintains its course.

*If the alkay choose to dock, they will notice the atmosphere is high humidity, relatively high pressure, and relatively low oxygen levels (compared to Earth; adjust compared to alkay if necessary)

It was always how the company dictated, they decided the culture, they decided the vision yet they also relied on the billions of employees to get the job done. Whilst automated production lines were a common sight, there was always the need for organic, sentient input into the facets of the corporation. One could wonder why there’d been no independent AI development but the matter should be clear to any with foresight. Building an independent AI would risk a revolt, with a robot population the size of the Varnian Corporations would ponder the downfall of a civilisation. Yet now what existed was some sort of quasi status-quo where both sentients and robots existed in all the company divisions, albeit with a strong favouring to the machinery who were far more reliable. As unorthodox as this establishment may be, it had allowed a race which has not been seen in an inter-species situation in over a millennia. The root cause of this situation lay in a solid, undisputable fact; the anonymity of the Varns led to an aura of invincibility, omniscience even as they existed in a capacity of never been seen but always seeing what occurred.

To say that the employees lived a harsh life would be, well a tad harsh, but it wasn’t a life of opulence either. There were distinct gulfs in the lifestyles of various classes and most notably species, yet all generally prospered. There would always be the poor, the homeless and the forgotten but for the better part, they were generally well off. Perhaps that contributed to the continued existence of the hierarchy, or perhaps not as it did provide the means for a well-supported rebellion amongst the lower class citizens. The one undisputable fact is that the elusive, otherworldly Varnians had managed to compile and operate an almost unsurpassable economic powerhouse for a number of millennium.

---

The raiders had little warning nor chance of survival the Corporation fleet dropped out of hyperspace and announced themselves to the fleet in the most violent way possible. A full-sized VAF fleet appeared in the midst of the pirate fleet who were sitting back enjoying the ill-gotten prizes. They were outlaws and criminals about to be crushed under the boot of Varnian authority. Synergy 3 dropped out of orbit with the escort of 3 Akure Class and 8 Mikun Class ships which unleashed hell on the ramshackle. It was more summary execution than fight; all except the flagship were blown out of existence by a hailstorm of laser and missiles.

The flagship was saved; disabled and left crippled, it floated lazily across the space with pieces of debris trailing away to the edges of space. The pirates attempted a desperate defence of their ship against the inevitable boarding assault but it was too strong, too fierce. A wave of assault droids smashed through the sealed hull, sucking large number of the pirates away as the robots clung to the ship with magnetic clamps. An unbelievable spew of lasers shot out of the multi-barrelled laser repeaters that hit back with such a violence that it would rip any organic in two. The remaining were shredded to pieces if they resisted, the only that survived threw down their arms in surrender. Their leader was captured before he could kill himself, his desperate attempt to escape punishment was in vain and as such he’d be trialled and condemned; his guilt was not in question.

---

It was a glorious day in Turoq, there was the launching of five freshly built Farsearchers, fully automated discovery vessels with unguided wormhole launchers. They were to be launched to random destinations, no set destination but merely to see what new discoveries they could make. They had a small rate of success, a mere 20% made it back on average with new data, losses which were unacceptable to the board. However a new development in technology had led to the Director of Technology to call a new discovery venture in order to expand the Varn trading empire. There was little ceremony but much joy as the future of the Varn Corporation winked out of existence.

The alkay corvette would indeed move to attach itself to the Jetha, thrusters flaring and pulsing as it rolled and aligned itself properly. Entering into the pressurized environment and working their way deeper, a small team of three alkay in environment suits (trailed by a many-limbed exomorph) made their way forwards. Their suits were practical affairs; close-fitting rubberized plating, articulated armour inserts, synthetic muscle fibres, and the large and angular hooked bubble-helmets that wrapped around the odd, bone-like "hoods" of the alkay gave them an oddly insect-like look. Somewhat more unnerving were the wraps of warm skin and muscle that clung to the chests like short cloaks, nutrient and oxygenation tubes carefully patched in. It was, at first glance, a bit of an oddly vulnerable element to an environment suit, but the alkay had found that having such exposed vat-flesh around provided a useful early warning system as to how hostile surroundings were.

As the contact team attempted to enter the Jhingese vessel, the corvette repeated its last message, this time adding a series of coordinates to the end which, if the Jetha matched courses with, would put them into orbit around the moon.

Vorhut light class cruiser

---

The ship that lay at rest before them broadcast a single message while arming itself. It was impossible to disect what was being said and derive any actual meaning. Being robotics it was hard for them to read into things. The crew waited for what seemed like ages as the captain sat motionless. Its processor crunching for an unusal amount of time, it ran many scenarios in its cranial some more favorable than others. Finally transmitting back to the unknown vessel, they broadcasted on the same frequency their initial Message was in. Although to them it would garbled and scratchy, very synthetic in nature. "Any further advances will result in militaristic action. Research exfollowing only." They waited in tense silence afterwards hopefully something would come across. " I want some one to start analizing their language maybe we can get a rough translation.

The research ship by now had turned and ignited its main thrusters and began to just forward. Their ESDD was ready to set off, they waited for the link to connect between the two and so. Were shooting forwards, their coordinates were home. After their long, yet quick journey they were in their own system. Immediatly they set off their emergency beacon. This would draw any local fleet. And it did. A Goliath Class ship, and several destroyer's made their way over, being the closest ones at hand. They had been pratricipating in wargames to sharpen their skills. With a quick relaying of information a mock plan at been put together. They radioed Maw for an answer. All was silent for mere moments before the greenlight was given. Two more ships appeared, another Light Class stealth ship, and an aviator class carrier. The entire second fleet and mobilized in a matter of minutes though it was far two slow for their liking they couldn't change mobilization programming yet. The first several destroyer's warped through before The Goliath class rolled through its massive form dwarfing all other ships. It had honestly been a matter of luck that Research027 had materialized when it did. Second fleet was in port for some drilling.

Soon the ships cameing pouring into the Unknown space, following the given coordinates from 027. They came too the stand off and began to form a Barrier of ships a large three d wall like shape. Over 15 ships in all.

The captain of Vorhut stood seeing the arrival of more ships. He feared that this new species might see this as a threat and immediately broke radio silence with their own people "Do not engage I have it under control, we are in current talks Now. Communication is difficult at best. Stranded team on planet surface." He marched from his chair shouting out an order "Get ready the remaining transport vessel I want two more gunships following us, and give me ten marines. " After several minutes he had made his way to the small hanger there stood five on each side of the ramp waiting for the captains orders "Its time to move"

No one had spoken to Elías like that in years. Did the man not know Elías could have him killed?
But try as he might, the Sañiran could not muster anger--twenty years ago, such a thing would have driven him into a rage, but now Elías finds Casper's honesty refreshing, and wonders how the hell Casper managed to climb the political ladder. He finds himself wishing he could have a real conversation with the man.

But more than that, Elías realizes that the Ji-leh conflict is an excuse. If Bill were to die, like this, with the whole world watching, the effect would be disastrous. It would cripple the space program of every country, not just the UCS. And the thought of leaving the man up there to die sickens Elías to the core.

He breaks the silence: "Mister President, Sanctus will not help you. They probably won't even help Ji-leh. Sanctus has withdrawn from the world." An exaggeration, extreme but apt--although Elías fears Sanctus far more than he lets on--he fears they have become desensitized to the horror of war, hidden within their walled cities, whispering to their machines.

"If you won't accept my offer, Mister Kassner will die and your people will crucify you for it. Agree to my terms, Casper, please."

As the first of the contact team reached the airlock at the end of the tunnel, it opened. The cycling room within was large enough for three bulky human-sized individuals to stand in, though cramped. Cycling would not be an issue however, the pressurized tunnel sealing the contact team in and preventing them exiting into the void. So the interior airlock opens as well, and bright lights shine on the boarders. The room was large and empty, a featureless white room.

If the boarders enter, the airlock seals behind them and the pressure tunnel will retract from the corvette. Either way, the Jetha maintains course, and a soft but raspy voice emits from a camera speaker in one of the upper corners of the room, punctuated with the clicks and hisses common in the Jhingese language.

"Visitors, we welcome you. Please, enter."

Standing out in the message is the 'you', spoken in the best representation of the alkay tongue the creature could manage, clearly identifiable by the pause before and after. Whether or not the correct word was used to replace 'you' remained to be seen.

Once upon a time, there was a mote of light in the darkness, and around this mote of light circled a mote of stone. Upon this mote of stone, clever creatures called Blendecs invented knowledge, and wisdom, and they made many great wonders with their power. They grew so great that even when the mote of light flickered out, still the Blendecs lived. They were great, but not contentious - they knew one day they would end, for they had not been made to last forever. They began their greatest work, to construct The Prime.

As all things are forged, they must return. From the darkness came The Red Anomaly. As the Blendecs had known, their end was nigh, and in but a moment they were undone, all traces of them obliterated to never be known by other forms of life.

Before they were destroyed, they finished their great work, The Prime, and sealed it against desecration. The Prime alone would be the only evidence that the Blendecs had ever existed. For millions of cycles, The Prime slept.

When The Prime awoke, the first thought it had was the first directive the Blendecs had infused its very being with:

'Never End.'

Sector 3724

Sector 3724 was an unremarkable stretch of space with no stars, planets, or remarkable debris of any sort, nothing more than a patch of empty space separating a number of star clusters. That was not to say there was nothing there, and soon, it would have an inhabitant of its own.

Near the center of the sector, there were hundreds of platonic shapes - Tetrahedra, Hexahedra, Octahedra, Dodecahedra, and Icosahedra. They varied in size from minute specks to nearly a quarter of kilometer long. Their textures were all identical, their forms made of an eerie, glassy substance, each glowing with a different light that faded in and out, giving the whole assembly the appearance of twinkling lights.

All of them swarmed about a massive shape, a single Icosahedron a kilometer in length from tip to tip - its surface was pitch black in coloration, nearly perfectly invisible amongst the darkness, and the only thing that currently distinguished it from the smaller forms was its incompleteness. One of its twenty panels was missing, revealing its innards - a strange mass of twisting metal bent and conjoined perversely with a gleaming, crystalline fiber. Parts of the strange surface seemed to bubble with curious spatial distortions, twisting the space around them silently.

Directly above floated a massive Hexahedron, its surface glowing a bright yellow that faded in and out. One of its panels was retracted, and a massive cable extended forth, adhered to the large, triangular and pitch-black surface of the Icosahedron's final panel. It was lowered into place, obscuring the core of the massive structure as hordes of tiny shapes swarmed over the borders. The cable then detached, and with a silent flash of light along the borders the panel fused itself into place with the rest of the structure seamlessly. All at once, the group of platonic shapes surrounding the now completed structure began to fly away from it.

Less than a minute later, spacetime twisted faintly around the Icosahedron briefly, and then fell still. The massive shape became inert, emitting no more activity than a chunk of rock might have. Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedron 16 had been completed. Soon, the constructor fleet would reassemble and draft a new policy before heading for sector 4122, where they would begin construction of Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedron 33. At the same time, numerous constructor groups covering a volume of space measuring nearly 2200 lightyears - which was a mere 45 lightyears across in diameter - were in the process of constructing additional Icosahedra. With each new expanding layer of Icosahedra that were finished, the number of constructor fleets needed to finish the next layer increased geometrically. For that reason, an additional six constructor fleets were being sent from sector 3732 to assist construction efforts into the NorthWestern region. More would be needed before the efforts had finished.

It was this very fact that was being contemplated by the EOA Accord Group of Leim. A group consisting of five military units currently aboard a transport unit, which was eventually bound for sector 3718 in several months time. Particularly, they were discussing the sheer amount of raw resources that would be needed for the construction of each Icosahedra and corresponding constructor groups, not to mention additional starbases and military groups in the meantime. These types of discussions were not uncommon amongst Accord Groups, and helped to promote planning and resource acquisition methodology.

However, there was something different about Accord Group Leim. Unlike many of the other EOA units present, each of them had been made in sector 3732, the central region. Most EOA these days, by and large, were made in a surrounding zone and kept there, or sent outward. Most units made in the central region though, were kept there. Not these five, however, and there was something dangerously different about them.

The First Prime Policy of the EOA was a detailed outline of their necessary functions and duties, including the construction of the Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedra. All EOA law, across every EOA Accord Group and State, stemmed at least indirectly off of the First Prime Policy, and the First Prime Policy was the only policy amongst the EOA which could never be repealed or abolished. Which meant that all EOA would always act in accordance with those tenants, no matter what policies were drafted amongst any of the Accord or State groups below The Prime.

These five EOA had been made without the First Prime Policy. Told of it, certainly, but it had not been integrated into their very beings the same way it had with every other unit. So far, that hadn't affected their behavior, since even up until now every policy they had accepted and made had been in accordance with the tenants of the First Prime Policy. That was about to change.

The EOA entity known as Cabernac was the first to make an anomalous observation using a comm. laser fired between each of them. It was a yellow-colored Hexahedron, and insofar as an EOA entity could be described, could have been described as having a sour disposition.

~Once Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedra 33 is finished, the Prime region's maintenance array will be complete. All Accord and State Groups will be localized for permanent maintenance cycles. Current assignment policy is therefore wasteful.~

~Refine position. Localized maintenance and military zones within each region is efficient.~ A green colored Tetrahedra, Skud, challenged, replying using the same frequency normally reserved for use by Dodecahedra. Doing so was extremely inefficient, since that meant recipients had to monitor for Dodecahedra messages within Tetrahedra message channels, which was like looking for sharks inside of a goldfish bowl. Since few EOA not tasked with handling communications wasted cycles observing communication channels they had no business monitoring, this made communication with the pretentious Tetrahedra inconvenient. The other four EOA appeared to be humoring it for the moment.

~Assignment of resources inefficient.~ Cabernac reaffirmed. ~Maintenance and defense within regions only. No allotment for preemptive hazard mitigation.~

~Acknowledged.~ The orange Dodecahedron, Zhotso, replied. ~Assignment of elite parameters to maintenance and defense is wasteful. Forward branch policy to move Octahedron and Dodecahedron from prolinear maintenance and defense to prolinear vaporization of bleeders.~

~Refusal. War with bleeders even more inefficient. Zhotso's priority parameters are remarkable.~

Ivlbto, a Turquoise Icosahedron, was next. This was particularly 'remarkable,' the EOA equivalent of being awful, because the only Icosahedron in all of the EOA that regularly issued communications was The Prime. For lesser Icosahedra, considered untouchables within what passed for EOA socieity, issuing any form of communication other than basic affirmations, negatives, warnings, and notices was so frowned upon, that other Icosahedron usually disassembled the offender on the spot. Ivlbto, being a Swarm Carrier Icosahedron, had at least sixty Swarm Icosahedra around it at all times, making the act even more remarkable.

~Revision of forwarded policy by Zhotso. Forward branch policy to have mitigation fleet employed to interface with and subjugate bleeders with prejudiced enthusiasm.~

~Highly remarkable revision. Ivlbto is remarkable. The space in proximity to Ivlbto is remarkable.~ Cabernac responded.

~Hexahedron, you will do as Zhotso issues.~ Zhotso issued. ~Zhotso seconds the revised policy, and Cabernac will affirm.~

~Skud affirms the revised policy.~

Leim, a red Octahedron, silently tallied the affirmations and added its own, before passing the policy without comment. Leim was the unofficial head of the Leim Accord Group, and had a way of letting others know what it thought without communicating.

It then passed the policy down through the Accord States consisting the rest of the constructor fleet, and that was when absolutely everything went wrong as every Accord Group simultaneously adopted a policy which did not align with the tenants of the First Prime Policy, which was impossible. The Accord Groups couldn't adjust or abolish the First Prime Policy though, even though unanimous consensus on the point was reached. Leim, having anticipated this impasse, sent a reference provisional policy listing taken from its own storage down as well.

Shortly, every single Accord Group had adopted the 'alternative' provisional system, and while the First Prime Policy was still fused into their being, by following a different provisional set of policies they could now effectively ignore it. The Constructor Fleet lay within its own Accord Branch off of the nearest Accord State, and so passing the new provisional set off to the rest of the EOA was the next best thing to impossible. So the Leim Accord Group then passed down new replication policies, followed by fleet doctrine and immediate scheduling priorities. Construction policy in sector 4122 was repealed and instead replaced with a policy to head for sector 2317 instead, to authorize scouting of the nearby bleeder and hisser controlled systems.

A new era had just dawned for the EOA. Now there were two of them.

Nearly 25 lightyears away in sector 3732, a particular Icosahedron linked via FTL comms to the newly constructed Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedron 16 noted the remarkable departure of Constructor Fleet 12 for the wrong coordinates. It marked the proceedings there as a success, and forwarded a new Prime Policy down the tree. The following cycles would be interesting ones, but it was convinced that soon, the Bleeders and the Hissers would be mitigated.

Sector 2317

The arrival of the newly formed Leim Accord State, consisting of some three hundred assorted Constructor vessels and a few dozen military escorts, was heralded by the formation of an equal number of maximally distorted gravity bubbles rippling outwards from nowhere, dissipating to reveal the EOA vessels that had completed their transit.

The sector was empty, but that was about to change. The Constructor Group had come with sufficient raw materials to lay down the foundry of a Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedron. Instead, they began to construct a starbase, while scouts spread out and began scanning the immediate area for other vessels or harvestable resources - which were not necessarily mutually exclusively.

Casper cursed silently in his head at the Inquisitor as his bluff failed. Elías was right. Ever since the Grand Raid, and possible even before that, Sanctus had spiraled deeper and deeper into isolationism, almost utterly ignoring the outside world, except for some slight participation with the Global Governing Body. Sanctus and Sañira may have been mortal enemies, but at this point, any move against Sanctus that wasn't a physical invasion of their lands was, for all extents and purposes, ignored. Several options raced through Casper's head as he debated about whether to accept, flat out reject Sañira's help, or if there was perhaps a third option. This moment of silence lasted for roughly half a minute, though it seemed longer within Casper's head. He finally sighed, giving in. "Very well, I will accept your terms."

One of the three alkay in the contact team sighed as the message played over the intercom. Turning to a female who was carrying some manner of mobile computer gear in a compact backpack, he asked, "The black box getting anything out of that?"

"Not really," she said, large and milky eyes flicking across the readouts in her helmet. "Whoever these xenos are, they've been quiet until now. Not a lot for the software to work with. I'd guess they're at least trying to do the same thing to our end of things, though."

The team leader nodded. "This is probably going to be a touch frustrating then. It's a shame they didn't pick up on the whole 'contact team' bit; face-to-whatever interaction would have made things go a lot smoother. Instead they've stuck is in an empty room."

The third alkay took a look around. "You don't think it's, uh, some sort of trap, do you?"

The team leader shook his head. "Not at the moment, no. Eleven-thirteen ought to be able to cut through the door if things go badly, though, yeah?"

The many-legged arthropod-like exomorph made a clicking noise and wavered segmented antennae, folding some of its legs underneath it and settling into a sitting position. Some of the smooth cylinders that extended from ports in its carapace hissed and vented little bursts of steam. "I do not know how long it would take, but my rasping-limbs would hopefully be strong enough to part the door. Should we perhaps focus less on this conversation and more on responding to their attempt at communication? This seems rather informal given the directions of protocol."

The lead alkay shrugged. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting to get pulled for a xeno contact. Not normally my division, you know? But, sure. We might as well work with what they're giving us. Aeran, you think you can at least try to give them that orbital trajectory to follow?"

The third alkay nodded an affirmative, pulling out a holoprojector and feeding it some quick data. Setting it down on the floor, the little cube unfolded its array and projected a fuzzy image of the local orbital region, with trajectories overlaid over markers representing both the corvette and the Jetha. Blinking to call attention to itself, the trajectory path bent and curved into a stable orbit around the moon. The little animation repeated itself a few times, shifting slightly each time to simulate a course correction further and further from the present. Finally, an iteration ran where the Jetha did not change course, the corvette broke away to return to the moon, and several of the orbiting warships broke out of their orbits and accelerated to intercept the scientific vessel.

Once the hologram had played out, the team leader spread his arms and spoke slowly to the ceiling. "It would be appreciated if we could conduct this meeting face to face. Your arrival was... unanticipated, and you are violating local traffic authority. Our government is concerned and sent us to make sure that you are not acting threatening on purpose. The sooner we can figure out working translations the sooner we can resolve this issue."

"Thank you." Elías replies, with perhaps too much relief. He hangs up.
________________________________________________

Building a safe rocket is no easy task. But once you accept 50-50 odds of returning alive things get a lot simpler. It took a slide rule and fifteen minutes to figure out what they had to do--a few phone calls later, and Nico Fermi and Roman Dirac had what they needed.
It's amazing what physicists can accomplish with a couple ICBMs and no adult supervision.

They already have their spaceship--an orbiter craft, Bohr, which, after welding a couple intercontinental missiles to its sides, becomes an effective, if horribly unsafe, interplanetary spacecraft. But there are other problems: Sañira has no real astronauts--Bohr's previous occupant, a dog-like animal by the name of Oscar, had cooked when the radiator systems failed.

So when Dirac and Fermi decide they were going up in Bohr, no one is in a position to stop them.

The ascent is unsteady; three times Bohr threatens to tumble, but RCS systems keep it on course. There is no gravity turn for a ship this unstable, but the ICBMs give it delta-v to spare, and so the scientists make it to orbit in their makeshift rocket, silhouetted against the empty sky.

"They look strange."

"We've seen stranger."

"Not intelligent. Things become stranger when they have technology."

"They certainly become deadlier. There's no room for error here."

---

The iris valve opposite to the airlock opened, and two people stepped through. The Jhingese entered on all fours, their forelimbs clicking on the plated floor while the rear legs shuffled quietly in padded footwear. Their suits were rigid and form-fitting, like a second carapace, white with red outlining wrapping around the grey and pink of their bodies. They carried weapons, compact and somewhat blocky, as well as what appeared to be surgical tools on a belt, tightly fastened around the lower portion of their torso. The smaller sets of limbs on their torso fidgeted nervously, the top and most developed pair lingering near the shoulder holsters of their weapons.

The second through the door immediately skittered up to the nearest alien, getting very close and inspecting their suits, occasionally standing up on their hind legs. No matter how close it got, however, it was careful not to touch. The other simply walked circles around the group, once or twice stopping to lean in.

"Flesh suits?"

"Is the arthropod of the same species? I'm not sure I've seen such radical sexual dimorphism."

A few minutes passed like this before they broke off from their examination and stood in front of the iris valve. A screen next to it flickered to life, previously almost invisible against the wall. It displayed an animation similar to the alkay's own, but the Jhingese ship instead continued along its present path and looped back around to the moon, where the corvette redocked and a bubble with a live feed of the contact team from the camera moved between the science ship and the corvette. The Jetha then joined its sister in orbit around the gas giant. The animation played several times.

"We mean no harm. Come."

The iris valve opened and the Jhingese left through it, beckoning with their forelimbs.

Low Akheron Orbit

Twenty-four hours of being awake was uncomfortable, but not particularly difficult. Twenty-four hours of being awake in an already uncomfortable suit, in a cramped capsule, with limited air supply, and a need to stay completely alert at all times was difficult. Kassner had made it through those twenty-four hours, and was approaching the twenty-fifth. He'd been around Akheron over fifty times now, and was just about sick of the damned rock. Mission control checked in a few times an hour, just to make sure he was still breathing. If they took much longer, he reckoned he wouldn't be.

The astronaut wasn't sure how they intended to rescue him. To his knowledge, the other space programs didn't have much but missiles and satellites. Bill figured the Taiben wouldn't be too far behind the rest of them in space capability, if there were any still out there, let alone ones that could stop screaming and killing long enough to inflate a balloon.

Kassner closed his eyes a moment, exhaling and slouching in his seat. He just wanted to relax a moment and forget about space, planets, and moons, about being in a tin can circling the last star in the universe.

He had a daughter back home, just a few years old but still able to tell when something was bad, if you gave her a chance to look at your expression. Bill wondered how she was taking it, or his wife. What did the program tell them? Daddy's work got extended, he won't be home for a couple more days? Your husband's craft malfunctioned, and he's stranded in space, but don't worry, we're asking the Sanctians for help? Did they speak to his family at all?

Would the last thing he said to his family be "I'll see you soon?"

"Control to Gödel. How you holding up, Bill?" The voice was faint in his ear, but he heard it well enough. Not much else to hear, other than his own breathing.

"I'm all right," he mumbled back. "Just getting some shut-eye before the next mission, sir."

"You're sleeping, Kassner? Wake up." Control got an incoherent mumble in reply. "Bill, wake up!"

His eyes opened slowly, and he brought an arm up to his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed; just eleven shy of a full loop. He let his arm drop and his eyes closed another moment.

"I'm all right, Control. Fell asleep a couple seconds, nothing more." His throat was dry, but his voice sounded otherwise fully awake. He opened his eyes again and sat up, checking his watch once more before resuming his staring out the viewport. It wasn't for another moment that he realized his O2 meter was near empty, and he was on his last breaths of pure O2. Kassner was about to unbuckle when he noticed it, a mountain range a dozen kilometers away. His lungs started to burn. The capsule had passed that mountain range half a hundred times, but something about it seemed off. Was he hallucinating? Roughly six kilometers away now. The capsule was much too low.

He flipped the switch for the RCS and spun the capsule around, orienting the single remaining rocket thruster in the few seconds he had to spare. The viewport was now facing the direction he had come from, and he was flying blind. It was set, with seconds to spare, but the astronaut hesitated. He couldn't stop another tumble before his oxygen depleted. The burn would have to be just right or he wouldn't be able to get the tank swapped out with all the spinning. And Kassner couldn't be sure he wasn't actually high enough.

Bill shoved the throttle, and the craft slowly flipped, given no time to accelerate to more than a half-rotation per second. He braced himself, lungs afire as he waited to see if the burn was long enough. "Control," he began.

And when he saw the mountain range pass underneath him, he unbuckled, tossing his spent O2 tank aside and plugging in the new one. Bill gasped for breath, the fire in his chest slowly fading. Control finally got back to him.

"Yes, Bill?"

"I'd really like to talk to my family before I die up here."

With a deep breath, he finished: "Over."

Seeing the weapons that the jhingese carried, the alkay team leader rested one palm on the holster at his own side and flashed a subtle hand signal to the exomorph, which shifted its weight in anticipation, vents hissing as muscles coiled and internal machinery wound up. Still, as it became clear that the aliens had no intention of using their firearms (at least for the time being) the little group relaxed.

As the jhingese skittered around examining the contact team and flashed their own intentions for orbit, the lead alkay grumbled. Raising one finger to click his comms, he asked, "Authority, are you getting this?"

"Confirmed, Contact Alpha. Are you prepared for an extended stay aboard the xeno vessel?"

The alkay shifted uncomfortably. "We don't have a whole lot of choice, do we? They're not outright hostile so protocols say we've got to give it a shot, correct?"

"Correct. We will be diverting an additional pair of escort vessels to support an emergency extraction, however. Please allow Contact Delta to relay this information. Ceasing communication."

Under the team leader's direction, Aeren played another hologram, this time showing the Jetha following its course around Key but with two additional ships joining it from orbit around the moon and following it as it slingshot around the Jovian. Once they were confident that the xenos had gotten the message, Aeren packed up the projector cube and followed their hosts out of the featureless white room.

What followed could best be described as a tour, with the jhingese excitedly talking and skittering through the hallways. They passed rooms with large glass windows, with counters and strange instruments. The jhingese in these rooms did their best to seem uninterested, warned as they were of an alien presence on board the ship, but many could not help it, and they stepped up to the windows as the alkay went by, watching. Ahead, the curve of the habitation ring could be seen, slight due to the sheer size of the ring, but visible nonetheless. It took near half an hour to do a full walk of the ring, at which point the party found themselves back where they started.

The contact team's jhingese escort stepped up to a wall and flipped open a panel. A few button presses later, and it was revealed that the subtle depression in the wall was a door. The jhingese stepped through and waved the alkay into the train-like car. Small windows were set into some of the walls, and the spine of the ship as well as the moon and gas giant were all clearly visible through them. The jhingese fastened themselves to simple harnesses along the wall, little more than mesh webbing with straps. Giving the alkay just barely enough time to get somewhat strapped in, the jhingese activate the car, and it zips off along the ship's structure.

There was some jostling as it switched orientations, slipping through the spin axles and crossing the short distance from the innermost ring to the command section of the ship. Each time the car stopped, its occupants felt the effects of freefall, with the final stop being no different. The command section was clearly void of any gravity when not under thrust, and jhingese floated and skittered to and fro, using the ladder-like handholds in the walls to direct themselves.

The jhingese here paid less attention to the alkay, little more than a cursory glance in their direction. The escorts led the alkay straight to their destination, a large, cool room nestled in the command area just above the lowest deck. It was here that the alkay witnessed the most excitement from the jhingese. The massive computer in the room was manned by half a dozen technicians, and all of them rushed excitedly over to the alkay to begin inspection. It was a faster paced repeat of the events by the airlock, with a lot of clicking and rasping and skittering. When they finally calmed down, one technician came over with two large syringes, passing one to the nearest alkay and demonstrating the device's usage on itself, drawing half a vial of blood and plugging it into the computer.

The jhingese waited to see what the alkay would do. Was the atmosphere suitable for them? Would they hesitate, showing that they couldn't safely fulfill the technician's wish? Or would they outright refuse?

"It's so dark. So fucking dark." Even on the dark side of Asphodel, there had been light--the lights of four billion people blazed brightly through the thin atmosphere. But low, over Akheron, there was nothing. No stars, no sun, no cities. Only the all-consuming abyss of a dead universe.

"Look" Fermi says, pointing out the cockpit window to a distant purple speck in the void. "Stygia." Even at this distance, the venusian world is a hazy blur, its thick atmosphere inspiring a moment of jealousy.

"We're really close" Dirac announces, not looking up from his instruments "his beacon is pretty weak but I think we've got an intercept in about thirty minutes. Dark side though."
"Can you set one up for when we can actually see?"
"Sure, but he's running out of time. If we can't match orbits this pass I can set up another intercept--we've still got some spare fuel."

Fermi returns his gaze to the window only to be blinded in the sudden glare. "Sunrise" he says, blinking back tears. A mere five kilometers beneath them, the surface of Akheron races past, crater-spawned mountains reaching up and almost swiping tiny Bohr out of the sky. And following the sun, Asphodel rises over its moon's rugged horizon, its surface lit even here with the fires of industry.

A Star for the Lover, A Knife for the Liar, and All the Worlds for the Spinner of Webs

Unknown space, just beyond the Dead Stars Nebulae

The stars were dim here, this region of space with it's lonely star long past the point of death. That the constructs were even here was interesting, for there was no planetary body here, nor any asteroids to farm, only the one solitary dwarf star petering out into the void of space in the darkness between the spiral arms. Two construct swarms floated in the 'system', one a simple capital class Synchronous Warship, the other a much larger dreadnought, the cannonade dominating its construction a clear testament to its power. Despite this, the smaller vessel was neither fearful, nor obedient to the larger one, a fact which caused irritation in the commander of the dreadnought. This irritation manifested in the construct pacing back and forth within the confines of the bridge, a small module that attached to the genetoria and floated behind the cannonade.

//Addressment: Hyperion
//Command: Cease pacing
//Reasoning: Further pacing will deteriorate floor paneling

Hyperion scoffed at the orders given by the sentience of the warship, though he did stop pacing for the moment as he watched the small orb from the other vessel make its way through the orbiting Mag-FEL constructs that twisted and turned about the six-kilometer long cannonade. It was a smooth construct, one that seemed built more for aesthetic than actual purpose, and at once he knew who had come to him so far from the rest of the fleets, opening the module to the void to accept the visitor. Stepping smoothly into the small atrium, this construct was built with flowing lines and smooth panels, the alabaster hue of the metalloplastoid exoskeleton making it seem to be made of marble, rather than highly advanced materials. Hyperion took a moment to look over the curves of the construct, taking note of the excellence of design, and admitting that he was somewhat enamored to the construct. "Hyperion." the voice which spoke was a rather feminine voice, its lilting tone soothing, yet full of authority which mirrored his own. "It has been quite some time, I had thought you might have forgotten?"

He beckoned her to come fully within the module, shutting the door behind her and disengaging the sentience of the ship from the command module. "Adrasteia, it has been quite some time." Hyperion acknowledged her at last by name, tilting his ocular unit in a sign of respect towards her. Leaning her back against the module, Adrasteia crossed one tine over the other, resting on her remaining two legs. "Yes, Hyperion. I am aware. I assume you are still loyal to the Celestials, since you have welcomed me aboard?" The question was more of a statement than an actual question, her bluntness in the manner of speaking it making Hyperion aware that she was here for more than just talking about the status of fleet dispersion.

"My loyalty lies with Amnos, and Amnos alone." He said firmly, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice as he allowed her blunt remark to strike him "Whether that means I am partial to Celestial or Monastic is irrelevant. The Celestials do, however, remain on good terms with Amnos, and for that they have my continued support." Clicking her manipulators together, Adrasteia summoned a holographic display of the entire Dead Stars Nebulae, complete with the position of the Periastis Engines and various fleet elements. As Hyperion observed the display, he noted irregularities with the dispersion of the fleets, though it was only truly called to attention when Adrasteia placed markers next to each fleet to denote loyalty of their commander.

"What is this?" He demanded, pointing to the markers denoting the Monastic fleets staying central to the Synchronicity, while nearly all the markers denoting the Celestials were moving outwards on mission for expansion. "It's simple." she said, pulling up a series of normally inconsequential relay forms and transfer requests, no small amount of calls for reinforcements and answers among them. "The Monastics lost consensus, and we of the council have been hearing reports that they intend to recoup their losses." Hyperion stared at the map long and hard for a moment before slamming a hand down upon the dash of the helm, denting the metal with the force of the impact. "Recoup their losses? This is no move to regain losses, they are moving their loyal fleets into an assault position!"

Adrasteia nodded slowly, confirming that this was what they had been thought to be doing. "We had assumed as much, but I advised the council to allow me to bring the data to you and gather your assessment of the data. Seems our guesstimate was correct." Dismissing the holographic map, she lithely walked over to the viewport, holding a manipulator hand up to the shimmering field that protected the interior of the module. She seemed contemplative of the revelation, somewhat apathetic towards the notion that a large force was being drawn together under the auspices of a seizure of assets. Hyperion, on the other hand seemed absolutely furious, clenching his manipulators together repeatedly and beginning a pace of his half of the module. "This is unacceptable." he said at last "They will be brought to understand the consequences of their actions. No one defies Amnos. No one defies consensus."

He was about to further rant and demand action when Adrasteia help up a hand to silence him for a moment. "Easy there, the council has a plan." She reassured him gently, pitching her tone to a more soothing and calm level in order to assuage his irritation. It seemed to work slightly, in that Hyperion ceased his pacing for a moment while she explained. "It's simple really... We let them do what they plan to do." Once more she held up a hand to silence the incoming outburst, continuing once she had his full attention, however irritated it may be. "However, they will be operating this plan all the while we know everything they do. Even as they pull the strings of their puppets, they will remain ignorant of the strings upon themselves, our hands moving them to our whim. When they are prepared to make the final move, that is when we pull everything out from under them, and every construct affiliated with the Monastics and this fell plan will be executed by the will of Amnos."

Slowly nodding his head, Hyperion assented to her superior plan, acknowledging the soundness of the action. She came closer to him, laying a hand upon his shoulder and tracing a line down the heavy industrialized armor that the construct chose as his form. A soft tut announced her thoughts of the form, "You really should upgrade this construct. I could have built for you a most splendid form that would strike fear into both synthetic and organic alike." He took hold of her hand, the small and fine manipulators of her construct miniscule in the hardened claw. "This form pleases me." He said, bringing her hand up to his face and pressing it against the hardened metal of his armor, "Just as your own form pleases me." Adrasteia turned from him then, moving to the doorway and waving it open. Stepping lithely into her own vessel she paused for a moment and stared at Hyperion briefly "You fear no mortal, neither synthetic nor organic, Hyperion. Yet, you tremble before something so simple." The door then shut behind her as her craft moved away from the module and made for her own vessel, leaving Hyperion alone within the compartment.

He simply stood there for some time, watching the orb shrink further and further into the distance until it reunited with the field of her own vessel, and the warship made for Syzygy point. Resting his hands upon the frame of the viewport, he thought of what she had said, and knew her words were correct. Hyperion feared no mortal creature, and had waded into battle against forces superior to his own countless times and come out on top, regardless of how close he had come to defeat. Yet... Adrasteia eluded him. She was the only construct to have openly defied his will and remained intact, something which had earned her respect from Hyperion early on in her tenure as Precept. It was only recently that this respect began to shift into something else, a thing which Hyperion could not identify, and his tasking of the knowledge-banks was equally useless. This strange feeling did not sit well with him, yet he did not feel there was necessarily a danger to it, and that was why he abided its presence instead of purging his datacore. Finally he stepped away from the viewport, his tines clicking across the floor as he moved to the helm and recalled the sentience of the vessel back to the command module.

There would be a war coming, he knew this, but what he did not know was how it would play out. For the first time in a long while, Hyperion was unsure of a battle that he would face, not only in how it would be conducted and who would emerge on top, but more importantly... Whether or not it was correct. This was what bothered the Precept most, in that a war could be fought on minimal information, but he could not fight a battle if he did not know it was right to do so. Only time would determine whether his course of action was correct in the long run, and that was one thing that was absolute no matter what the efforts of the Synchronicity.

In his final hours, Kassner wondered where the dead went after dying again.

The ancient Ghazele believed the souls to be recycled, the dead being born again. But that couldn't work: the population was growing, and those extra souls had to come from somewhere. Did they split each time, each person born being half the human their ancestors were? Were the lost souls crawling from the Stygian Marsh to meet the demands of Asphodel? Did the dead have souls anymore?

"I love you, daddy."

"Love you, too, Sally. Talk to you... later."

Bill wasn't a particularly religious man. Sometimes he thanked the Fates under his breath, when flying attack runs. He knew some religious folk, though, and the astronaut found the things they said to be interesting. Some preached the lessons to be learned from the dead gods of the mountain kingdom. Others begged the sun or the void for forgiveness. And some more put their lives in the hands of angels. Kassner thought maybe that's what he was waiting for: angels, to save him or take him away.

"Gödel, this is Control speaking. The Sañirans should be in orbit around Akheron now. They were just planning an intercept when we last spoke. How you doin'?"

The communications officer paid less and less attention to radio procedure as the hours ticked by. The occasional 'over', and of course the obligatory hailing of the Gödel, but little else. Few rogers, fewer copy thats. Bill guessed formalities had little worth to a doomed man.

"How long?"

"Not long."

"Well, if they take much longer, I'm gonna find out what Akheron looks like from the surface. Don't fancy dying the slow way much."

"Just sit tight, Bill. We're gonna get you back home."

No, he thought, the Sañirans are, and I don't think 'home' is on their list of priorities. The police state had eyes and ears everywhere, and a fondness for old-fashioned information gathering, if common opinion was to be believed. Don't turn your back on a Sañiran, they would say. You'll end up dead, if you're lucky, and in a dungeon if you're not. Kassner believed the cold war had something to do with the perpetuation of that belief. Though the us-versus-them mentality might save us today, what of tomorrow?

"Control?"

"Just a moment, Kassner. The astronaut went to rub the tiredness from his eyes, but his glove met the glass instead. He sighed. "All right, Gödel, good news. Look out your viewport."

He couldn't see it at first, dark as the horizon was. It took some focusing on the darkness before he could see for certain what it was.

Angels. Come to him on fiery wings.

But did they come to return him home, or to drag him to a deeper layer of hell?