BZPB: Unending

Welcome to BZPB: Unending, an open-ended sandbox RPG where as much as possible is left up to the players.

1. This RPG is set in a non-descript sci-fi/fantasy universe. This means that elements from both science-fiction and fantasy can be included and combined at one's leisure. I will include no more backstory - that is for us to create as we go along.

2. No god-modding. This rule became somewhat meaningless in the old BZPB with the ridiculous power levels of most of our characters. It's not hard; don't kill or grievously harm other people's characters without their permission, don't ignore other people's attacks, and generally don't pretend that your character is some invincible, all-conquering hero.

3. Resolve all disputes cordially. This is supposed to be fun. Yes, sometimes someone will do something you find objectionable, but do your best to talk it out with them rather than yell at random people.

4. Keep it tasteful. Tyrannical, genocidal space regimes are acceptable. Literal Space Nazis are not. This is not a competition in who can be the edgiest.

5. Any posting style goes. If you want to write in prose, that's fine. If you prefer script, that's fine too.

6. A player's main cast may not include more than 5 characters at a time. A main cast is defined as the characters you choose to focus on and feature regularly in your posts - it does not include minor characters who appear in one or two posts as necessary. If you want to, you can free up a slot by killing off a character or merely announcing you are phasing them out. In this case, if another player wishes to pick up a phased-out character, they may do so if the character's creator agrees to it.

7. For god's sake, have fun.

You enter into a bar, with a variety of familiar characters enjoying their festivities. A Kernian man with heterochromia looks up at you, and sighs. Another individual with red and purple skin came up to you, his blue eyes shining behind the shadow of his hood.

"Wrong topic, wrong RPG! Get out, get out!"

He pushes you out of the bar, and you fall through a hole in space-time. None of these people count as characters, because this entry is just a reference.

---

<Apolion Tech Industries Facility>

Cassandra Cromwell dashed through the hallways as laser blasts slammed into the walls near her. She looked back, seeing various soldiers encased in black armor shouting various phrases as they chased after her.

The hallway suddenly seemed to swerve, a wide window at its end. Cassandra leaped into it with little thought, shattering through the glass and landing with a thud on the scalding desert sands below. She grunted as pain twinged throughout her leg, and limped to the chain link fence. Cromwell rummaged through her pockets as quickly as possible as the facility's alarm screeched throughout the perimeter. She pulled out a white remote and pressed the black button at its center, firing a laser that immediately created a door for her in the fence.

As she ran away from the facility, several guards fired at her, stopping before the hole in the fence. A man in a charcoal black suit (similar to the one pictured here) sauntered up to them, grinning. Two guards who could only be described as tall versions of wasp-spider fusions looked back at him.

Alien Guard 1: "Sir, do we continue our pursuit?"

???: "No, she won't get far, Miss K'tt."

Alien Guard 2: "Forgive me, sir, but we can catch her immediately. Her leg is sprained!"

???: "All well and good, Mr. Pmoq. We will retrieve her when the time is right."

---

<Desert>

Cassandra Cromwell knew she was on a forsaken desert world, full of monsters that would devour her without a moment's notice. Still, her chances of survival here were better than at the ATI facility.

Suddenly, a dune buggy sped towards her from afar, its tan color nearly blending in with the desert. Before Cassandra could react, it stopped in front of her. She pulled out her gun and pointed it at the driver, who was unfazed.

???: "No need for that. I'm here to help."

Cassandra Cromwell: "Who are you?!"

???: "Name's Jorten Karzdus. Get in the transport, you need shelter. Unless you want to figure it out on your own."

Cassandra paused, and jumped into the buggy. Jorten moved the gearshift, and sped away, hoping to not run into more trouble. He hummed a theme to himself while driving.

A faint breeze rolls in off the expanse of the Romos, rustling Voight's hair and billowing out the gaudily printed Hawaiian shirt he wore. His dark olive green skin shone in the rising sun, already gleaming with sweat as the heat of the day set in, entrenching itself for a siege of warmth that would not cease for another 162 hours standard. Voight turned away from the oceanic expanse of the Romos, panning his four-eyed vision across the skyline of Romosuta. The city was still shrouded in a crescent of shadow cast by the sea wall, so half of the city gleamed with the silver radiance of a new 'day', the other still clinging to the remnants of shadow that were soon to be banished. Humming along to the tune of New Order's Bizarre Love Triangle, which played on a pair of earphones tucked behind his ears, Voight paced along the gantry, high above the city below, but only 20 or so metres aloft of the azure green-blue of the Romos. Descending a flight of metal steps, Voight rejoined a group of figures standing around a military style plasteel crate. Atop the crate, an ancient laptop displayed reems of blue and white text, scrolling at an insane speed. The primary figure amongst the group was the one controlling the computer; an Android with a faceplate carved in the image of Michaelangelo's David. The faceplate was juxtaposed against a vaguely humanoid skeleton of metal and cabling that made up the Android's body. Over its skeletal frame was draped a white longcoat, which also bore a black military harness, from which hung two large mag Beretta M92s. Voight noticed the black carapace that would fit over the android's body, which lay in pieces around a black carryall on a fold up table. The Android seemed fixated on the laptop, unaware of his return, but Voight knew that although the highly advanced AI encased behind David's visage was reading at something like 3000WPM, it was fully aware of everything in its immediate vicinity, down to the perspiration on Nikolas Vilchis' chest. Minutes passed, and no one made a single utterance, as fixated on the Android as the Android was on the computer. Then the Android straightened with the faint whir of mechanical servos, and turned to address the group. Though David's lips did not part, the Android intoned in something resembling an effeminate voice, "Brothers and Sisters. We have control. If you would, please proceed to synchronise your cerebral implants and proceed with the operation."

Voight pulled his earphones out and strode over to the table, pulling an attache case out of the carry all. Flipping the locks revealed a modified black SVD, fitted with an AN/PEQ-2 Target Pointer/Illuminator/Aiming Light and an 8x Magnification scope. Voight fed a magazine into the weapon, racking the bolt and flicking the safety to 'off'. Voight nodded to the Android, shrugged the sniper's rifle over his shoulder, and hiked back up the staircase, rising once again above the city side of the sea wall. Some three hundred metres below and in front, Voight could make out the shapes of his comrades closing in on their target; a low white complex surrounded by a wire fence. In the yard of the complex, a sleek silver skimmer was parked, it's engines still glowing warm blue from its recent flight. Voight swung his rifle back around, resting the barrel of the gun on the railing of the gantry. He fiddled with the scope and zeroed the weapon, sighting in at the complex. He could now clearly make out Nikolas Vilchis, Raphael Racine, Calista Jadin, as well as numerous others of the group that had moments before stood about the statue faced Android. The scope also revealed a man at the rear door of the white building, and Voight could clearly see the MAC-11 machinepistol the man toted. Voight aimed and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked, but Voight compensated, and he saw the man drop, a spray of blood marking the doorframe he had just exited. The sound of the gunshot rolled around the circular rim of the seawall until it faded, but Voight couldn't help feel that his cover, minimal as it was, was blown. He stepped up onto the railing, and jumped, throwing himself down into the city below. He landed with a resounding thud on the corregated metal roof of a shack, warping the metal with his momentum. Unharmed, Voight dropped the SVD, kicked it into a dumpster, and pulled a Mateba Unica-6 from the waistband of his slacks. He'd have to walk through a shanty slum to get to the complex, but he was confident that his cohorts could handle the situation in his absence. He strode calmly through the backstreets of the slum, ignoring the flinty stares of xenomorphic gangmembers and rusting, hulking android chimeras. Weaving between wood and metal shacks, Voight soon came to the main road opposite the complex. He could faintly hear Racine shouting from inside, but he couldn't hear what about. Suddenly, a vast ball of fire expanded from the front of the building, throwing mortar and shards of glass out across the yard. Voight ducked behind a car and checked the cylinders of his revolver. Thick oily smoke belched from the rent open façade of the building, obscuring whatever was going on inside from Voight's view. The explosion had attracted the attention of some of the aforementioned slum citizens, who now stared with widened eyes at the scene adjacent to their home. Voight sighed and stood from his cover, striding across the road to an opening in the chain-link fence, one hand in his pocket, the other swinging his handgun by his side. A figure stumbled from the smoke, coughing, their face smeared with blood and soot. Voight didn't recognise them, so he raised his gun, placing two rounds into the man, who yelped and then sprawled to the pavement. The staccato beat of automatic fire sounded from inside the building, along with more nondescript shouting; Voight jogged into the smog, jumping over the guttering fire of the explosion and crouching quickly next to a battered oil drum.

The inside of the building was something akin to a factory; a series of belt fed robots welding and cutting metal parts from vast moulds of ceramic. A small office headed the main space, which one had to ascend a flight of metal stairs to reach. On those stairs now stood Raphael Racine, toting an AK-47 and a handgun, which he had aimed at the now static robots below. Voight could clearly see the figure that was covering from Racine, so he leant from cover, blasting at the cowering figure. His shot went wide however, and the man slammed himself to the ground, blasting with his sub-machine gun toward Voight's position. However, his panic had exposed his flank, and there was a flash and a hiss as Calista Jadin terminated the man, searing through his head with a blast from her laser rifle. Racine waved at Voight, who stood and waved back, winking at Calista. Voight spun about at the sound of footsteps behind him, but the figure that emerged was an Android clad in a white longcoat. "They made a mess, boss," Voight joked gruffly, but the Android 'ignored' him, pacing slowly, almost mechanically into the building. It looked around before 'speaking', addressing the group that now had assembled in front of it.

"Brothers and Sisters. The operation has been a success. Whilst you have secured this complex, this unit has successfully uploaded the retrovirus to Axial Corporation's primary computer. Within 21 hours standard, complete control will be achieved.

Saint Blank wishes to congratulate you on this success."

Starring

Benecio del Toro as Ison Rickard

Djimon Hounsou as Alain Dassault

and

Dana Kareglazaya as Kara

---

[ Syria-Iraq Border, Earth ]

[ Ten years ago ]

Rickard leant out of the dropship, staring back at the city trailing away on the horizon behind them. Tall pillars of smoke rose from the ruined metropolis, its burning skyscrapers painting the sky above black, as ground- and orbital- based laser weapons traded shots with eachother amidst a backdrop of continuous AA and missile fire.

"Was it still worth us getting involved, Captain?" asked Dassault, a dark-skinned frenchman who paced the cabin behind him, cautiously eyeing their captive, who knelt, bound at his hands and knees, with a bag pulled over his head. "Command never gave us a mandate for intervention."

"It was an ethnic cleansing, Lieutenant." replied Rickard, pulling a cigarette from his plate carrier and lighting it. "That was our mandate for intervention."

The dropship set down some distance into the desert, next to a bombed-out desert temple that had no doubt been a point of refuge for many of the varying factions that currently fought in the war gripping the regions. The soldiers piled out, dragging their captive with them and throwing into the shade of one of the remaining sandstone pillars. Ison Rickard leant forwards, tearing the bag from the man's head. He gasped for air.

"Speak."

"Who are you? How dare you show up and drag me from my home in the middle of the-"

A gunshot rang out across the desert plains as Ison loosed a shot from his rifle into the man's foot. Some of the younger soldiers looked away nervously. Dassault adjusted his dark green beret, observing the interrogation from behind a pair of tinted aviators.

"I won't ask you again."

"We had no choice!" cried the man, jerking forwards in pain, and a half-hearted attempt to cradle his damaged foot. "These people... They have always hated the Kurds! It was only a matter of time before they struck, so we had to strike first! You spacenoids don't understand - you come to our planets to solve our disputes with force, and then act surprised when you never find any permanent solutions!"

"We don't get paid to solve disputes, Mohammed." replied Ison, pulling his cigar away from his mouth. He reached behind his back, unclipping a canteen of water from his belt, before nodding to Dassault. "Just armed conflicts... like this one here."

Two balaclava-wearing soldiers stepped forwards, one grabbing the detainee by his ankles, one by his shoulders. They lifted him up, dragging him to a 30-degree slope that had built up around the base of the pillar, and laid him back down. By this point Dassault had already stepped forwards, unwrapping a cloth from around his bicep.

"No, please! Anything but that - I'll tell you anything!"

"Oh, I know." replied Ison, unscrewing the cap on his canteen. "We've just got to make certain of that."

"No, please!" cried Mohammed as Dassault stepped forwards, pressing the cloth down into the man's face. His voice was reduced to a murmur as he struggled against his restraints, powerless against the soldiers holding him down at either end.

"Now..." said Ison, leaning down next to him, holding the canteen of water above his head. "...we're going to start with a very simple question, Mohammed. Can you guess what it might be?"

"...The nukes? The gold! I'll tell you - whatever you want to know!"

"Whatever I want to know?" he replied, smirking, though with no hint of genuine enthusiam behind his empty, hollow eyes. "Okay, Mohammed. New Order released Substance, their most critically acclaimed album, in 1987. But can you tell me which track on that twenty-four track album recieved the most radio playtime in the year it was released?" he asked, humourlessly.

"I... what?!"

Ison emptied the canteen over Mohammed's covered face. He screamed, struggling against his restraints. "Lies, Mohammed. We can't have lies." replied Rickard, nonchalantly, standing up and taking Dassault's canteen from him. It was all an act he had been through dozens of times before. He returned to Mohammed, unscrewing the canteen and holding it out above him, ready to pour. "You said you'd answer all my questions correctly and you haven't, so you've lied. And I'm fairly sure in your Koran it says not to lie, or to say anything that's a bad word or offends anyone, so I think I have to punish you on Allah's behalf, as well."

"And so do we." replied a voice from above, as gunfire tore through the interrogation session. Dassault's right arm was blown clean off by a blast of green plasma fired by an invisible attacker, but the cyborg's automatic defense mechanisms kicked into place, his left palm opening up and dispensing an airburst napalm shell in the direction of the attack. Some of the attackers screamed out as the liquid flame engulfed them, but more still surrounded them, firing at the soldiers who had their backs against the temple wall.

"Take cover!" roared Rickard, unclipping his rifle from the back of his armor and returning fire. The attackers were impossible to see through their active camo armor, and the situation was compounded by the growing dusk, sheathing the battlefield in darkness, illuminated only by muzzle flares and explosions. Rickard's forces were taking heavy casualties against the uninidentified assailants, and as the survivors pulled into hiding behind the pillars of the temple, the bodies of their comrades lay strewn across the desert surface. The plasma fire was intense, pinning them into cover, sending chips of sandstone flying through the interior.

Rickard slid open the under-mounted grenade launcher on his rifle, and locked an EMP charge into place. Popping out of cover, he fired it, scattering a conical shower of glimmering blue particles in the direction of a group of assailants. Their active camos flickered out of existence, though they barely had time to comprehend this before Rickard lined them up and put a railround through each of them. The fire eased up on his flank, and he ran out, sliding another EMP round into his gun. By this time his fellow soldiers had caught on to the idea, and were returning fire with EMP-charged shotshell. The tides of battle turned as the remaining section of the surrounding force was caught between Rickard moving around to their side - now wielding his rifle in one arm and his pistol in the other - and the counter-attacking soldiers holed up in the temple.

Five minutes later, the battle was already over. Rickard ran to Mohammed, but the man was already dead - he had been caught in the crossfire and hideously burned by the plasma fire of his supposed rescuers. He sighed with disappointment, before turning to look at the bodies of his own men.

"They caught us by surprise." he said, sorrowfully, lighting another cigar, "But they were amateurs. Give a couple of Mujahideen some advanced technology and they think they're all Superman. They'd never look for a way to counter the oldest trick in the book."

"Boss..." replied Dassault, turning to him. That a black man could be truthfully described as having 'all the colour drained from his face' suggested something about the sight he had just seen. "...There's a... reason... they're all amateurs. Look..."

Rickard looked at the bodies of the assailants strewn across the ground, and the cigar fell from his hand. "Jesus fucking christ." he said, as one of the surviving soldiers pulled his helmet from his head, throwing up into it.

"They're... teenagers!" cried one of the men. "He... He looks just like my son!" he added, falling to the ground, sobbing. "These aren't fucking soldiers, Rickard! This isn't what we signed up for-"

At that point, a child's cry echoed out across the battlefield. The few men unnaffected by the revelation readied their rifles, but Rickard threw his to the ground, running in the direction of it. A young girl lay by a rocky outcrop, clutching at the side of her face. She was unconscious by the time Dassault and Rickard arrived, but her pulse was still stable - the only round that had landed on her had caught her in the side of the head.

"She's still alive..." he said, a faint glimmer of hope hidden somewhere in his voice.

"What do we do, Rickard?" asked Dassault, already expecting Ison's answer. Rickard did not reply, instead reaching down and cradling the girl, picking her up. Dassault understood immediately. "For those who are slain on the battlefield, there's Valhalla. For those who are born on the battlefield..."

Rickard pulled a cigar from his plate carrier with one hand, and lit it. "There's us."

---

[ Present Day ]

Kara observed the battle from the edge of the sea wall, looking down at the battle through a set of binoculars - which, really, was one more 'nocular' than she needed. She clipped it to the back of her belt, and drew her pistol - a heavily modified P99 with a long slide barrel and integrated suppressor.

"They've taken control of the facility." she said, pulling her long, silver, wolfish hair into a ponytail as she spoke.

"I can see ." replied Captain Rickard, through the comms piece in her ear. "How many?"

"Four, I think." she said, pulling the eyepatch that covered her right eye taut. "Specialists, but lightly armed."

"Can you take them?"

"Sure. Probably." she said, checking her equipment, paying specific attention to the maneuvering gear affixed to the shins and forearms of her form-fitting stealth suit.

"That doesn't sound like a definitely."

"You're right, because it's only a probably."

Rickard chuckled. "Very well, then. because the armed individual known as Saint Blank has acquired weapons likely to lead to a large-scale conflict, I hereby assign you a mandate of intervention to terminate them and their organization. Don't over-extend yourself, kiddo."

She stood up, turning so that her back faced the city below.

"Wouldn't dream of it." she said, smirking. She jumped backwards, drawing her hand across her face as her stealth field activated, and she descended into the slum below.

OOS: Theme for this post: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-_12b5Ec4WI

<Desert>

Suddenly, Jortenn could see a bright light in front of him, blinding him completely and making it impossible to drive. He instinctively hit the brake pedal, letting the dune buggy grind to a halt just in front of around four masked figures, wearing battered light armour and carrying guns. Two of them were operating a device similar to a searchlight, which slowly wound down, allowing Jorten and Cassandra to see again. Three of the figures pointed their guns at Jorten and Cassandra, while the other one put their gun away and removed their helmet, surprisingly revealing an attractive young woman with long red hair.

"Don't try running away, you're surrounded." Emily Lloyd said, pointing to another four or five figures in the distance, led by a slightly older, dark-haired woman, all carrying rifles. "Besides, considering where you are... You're probably better off with us anyway."

"You're being rude again, Emily. Introductions are in order, especially if they're going to be staying a while." the dark-haired woman said, as if she were scolding a child. "I'm Aster, and that there's my friend Emily. Care to tell us what you're running away from? After all, we're all running away from something."

<Desert>

Jorten stroked his grayish white beard while smiling.

Jorten: "Who said anything about running? We've got presents to deliver. Stand aside and let us pass."

He privately hoped that his joke would distract them all from noticing him reaching towards a small container that was next to the buggy's gearshift. Meanwhile, Cassandra Cromwell said nothing, her eyes darting around. She glanced at each of the figures' weapons, and made estimates about their distance from the vehicle.

<Desert>

Emily stared blankly at Jorten, and then suddenly started laughing at the joke. "Presents, huh. Show us, then."

Meanwhile, Aster looked intently at Jorten, and suddenly took a step forward. She then stretched out her arm in his direction, which briefly turned into a silver, gelatinous mass before suddenly taking the form of a long tentacle. The tentacle shot out towards Jorten, and wrapped itself around his throat.

"No, no." Aster hissed, slightly loosening her grip. "You are staying put."

Starring

George Michael as William "Three" Wisemen III

Chow Yun-Fat as Tony Lee-Wei

and

Christoph Waltz as Lars Ormen

---

"I'm looking forward to completing your training." said Mazkertis, grinning from beneath a set of hooded robes. "In time you will call me master."

"You're gravely mistaken." replied Eva, shaking her head. "You won't convert me as you did my father." she said, referring to the human-scale Zaku standing next to her.

Rickard sighed, getting up to leave the cinema. What shoddy writing, he thought, as he turned out of the door. He threw his drink towards the bin, but it was caught in mid-air by a beautiful blonde man, who had been leaning against the wall. He was dressed in a dark cream mac and light cream slacks, with a pair of leather slippers with no socks. He wore a pair of tinted aviator glasses, which he pulled up onto his hair as Rickard turned to him.

"Wisemen."

"Where's Kara?" asked Three Wisemen, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his coat and offering one to Rickard. Rickard shook his head.

"She's on an infiltration mission. Radio silence till she gets back."

"And you didn't go with her?" he asked, his accusatory tone only enhanced by his thick British accent.

"Well, I wouldn't look too great crammed into a skintight sneaking outfit now, would I?" he replied, in complete deadpan.

Wisemen chuckled as the pair made their way down the corridor. "Jesus christ, Rickard, there are more important things on the battlefield than aesthetics." he said, raising a cigarette to his lips and lighting it, his eyes wincing in anticipation. He blew out a thick cloud of smoke, and chuckled again. "Oh, who am I kidding."

Rickard grumbled in mild annoyance - though he always grumbled and was always mildly annoyed, so he had actually done very little. "Anyway, is there a reason for all this?"

"Boss wants to see you. Says it's important."

"Then it is. Where is he?"

"Memorial Hall." replied Wisemen, as Rickard accelerated away. "Oh, and, Rickard-"

"What?" replied Ison, momentarily turning around, only to catch a cigarette in midair.

"You'll probably want that afterwards."

---

Originally built as a bunker to allow a colonial population to survive an interplanetary thermonuclear war, Pangaea Base had been re-purposed as the secret headquarters of the mysterious organization known as Higher Cause. It was built within a naturally-occuring underground cavern system, and encompassed hundreds of square miles of space, capable of sustaining a population of thousands for an indefinite period of time. It was essentially an underground city all of its own, complete with all the luxuries one would expect such as cinemas, shopping malls and recreational facilities, compensating for the fact that its occupants were often sealed off from the outside world for months at a time.

At the center of it all lay the memorial hall, where all those who had fallen in service to the organization were commemorated. It was a vast, empty atrium, with a monument erected in the center of it; a black, prismatic monolith engraved with the names of fallen Higher Cause members. As Rickard closed in on it, he recognized a few of the names. Dassault was one of them.

"Sir." said Rickard, as he came to stand behind Ormen. The enigmatic leader of Higher Cause turned, smiling. He was dressed in a loose-fitting jacket and slacks under a charcoal grey longcoat.

"How are you, Rickard?" asked the man, his voice painted by his thick Austrian accent.

"Fine, sir. You?"

"Terrible." he replied, frowning. "I hate this room. I feel responsible for every name on that damned ornament..." he said, turning and gesturing to it. "But, that is not why I asked you here."

"Then why did you, sir?"

"It's about Kara."

Rickard raised an eyebrow. "Kara?"

Ormen sighed. "We have had the results of the second tests back, Rickard. The effect of the depleted uranium contamination on her brainstem is more severe than we thought. It's not life-threatening, but..."

"But what?"

"Her condition is not fatal, nor terminal. It will not affect her life expectancy in any way. But... in ten years time, her eyesight will be so poor that she will not legally be able to drive. But by that time, it will have gotten far past the point at which we can allow her to operate in the field." he added. Rickard clenched his fist, looking to the ground. "You must understand, Ison. The fact that she is alive is a miracle. She was shot through the head - that she got off with just an eye missing is a godsend."

"But she didn't get off with just an eye missing. She's got what - what is this - brain cancer?"

"No." replied Ormen, matter-of-factly. "It's more like tiny shards from the railround that entered her head, and are embedded in her brainstem. We can't treat them - if we try and dig them out, we'll do more damage than they will if we leave them."

"But they're leaking radiation to the surrounding tissues."

Ormen smirked uncomfortably. "Yes. I am sorry, Rickard, but we can't afford to pool resources into an operative who only has a year or two of service left in them. I need to ask you to look for her replacement - and I know that you don't want to, Rickard. Believe me, I wouldn't want to either. But we're not getting rid of her - she's part of our family. She can stay, here, with us. With you."

Rickard sighed, turning to the monument, and inspecting his reflection in its glossy black finish.  "I should never have raised her to be a soldier. I should never have raised her at all - she doesn't need to take after a man like me. No-one does." he said, sitting down on one of the benches surrounding the monolith. "We thought she'd be some prodigy - we all did, back then. We were too caught up in the fantasy of it all to realize we were pressganging a child into a lifetime of bitter conflict. And now, look at her."

"A beautiful young woman with a lovable demeanour. How terrible."

"A killer who knows nothing else. And she's not even a particuarly good one - nothing out of the ordinary, even if that is with the handicap of only having one eye. I should've left her at an orphanage - maybe then she'd have a chance at a normal life, and she would've been better at that life than she is at this one." he said, clenching his teeth. "As it is, this is the only life she knows how to live, and now she's only got 'one-or-two' years of it left. What a loada' bullshit."

"You say that as if there was ever a real alternative, Rickard. She born into a war of ethnic cleansing - given a rifle and a suicide vest and told to go out and make her god proud. That is the only life she can ever live. But because of her actions since - our actions - there are children that will never have to face that fate. An ever-increasing number of children."

"So she's a sacrifice? Fuel thrown onto our bloody battlefield bonfire?"

"We all are, Rickard." replied Ormen, smiling warmly. "That is the nature of the life we all choose to lead. But I don't think you're asking yourself the most important question."

Rickard turned to him. "Which is?"

"Could you honestly have done it? Could you honestly have given her up - turned her away? I know you saw yourself in her. A child soldier, abandoned on some foreign battlefield - the factions were different, the wars were different - but you two both went through that same hell. You saw a hope for your own redemption in her - to write the wrongs of your own past, to do it over again, this time with her instead of you. But I think... more than that, you saw a scared little girl who needed help. And I don't think it's in your nature to ever deny that help to anyone."

"Then you don't understand my nature very well, sir."

"Oh, I think I do." he replied, smiling. "And I think she does, too."

---

A hatch at the top of Pangaea base opened, and a small craft took off, shooting upwards towards space. Wisemen sat at the helm, with Rickard in the copilots seat, and a fellow Higher Cause member - Tony Lee-Wei - at the comms station. The craft pulled up out of the atmosphere, and entered hyperspace.

<Desert>

Jorten started to choke, his eyes going pale. He grit his teeth and glared at Aster as his arms struggled against the extended appendage.

Jorten: "Let....us....*urk* go. *urk* Final....warning. She....needs....*urk* medical attention."

Cassandra immediately pulled out a knife and held it to Aster's tentacle. Her other arm held a pistol aimed directly at Emily.

Cassandra: "Let him go. Now!"

Jorten: "Call our bluff. *urk*"

---

<Planet Byron>

It was a quiet, cloudy day near the castle. A typical day for this region. A green-skinned creature's padded, salamander-like feet quickly hurried towards the entrance of the faded beige edifice, swiftly slapping across the concrete. Several minutes later, it reached the throne room that was located in one of the castle's many floors. The being huffed and puffed, catching its breath in the dimly lit chamber.

Most of what little light there was inside the room came from a nearby window, but some of it also came from a series of jagged lines emitting cerulean blue light. The lines all seemed to travel through the floor of the chamber, eventually coming to an abrupt stop before the throne itself. That said, the individual that sat on this throne could not be fully seen. The amphibian fellow could only notice his general form, along with piercing golden eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. The figure stared directly at him, saying nothing.

Xenophibian Mook: "My lord, *puff* I bring news from Melchias Apolion. Cassandra Cromwell has escaped, she has seen far too much. He says this means we can move forward."

Once again, the figure remained silent. He seemed to nod, accepting this, then tilted his head, as though he was expecting more news.

Xenophibian Mook: "The other Clans are largely unaware, my lord, with some exceptions. We intercepted a spy from Stormen that confessed everything. There may have been a few leaks that will no doubt come up in the next summit. Nothing vital, but enough to raise eyebrows."

The eyes suddenly rose upwards. The figure slowly moved towards the mook, his true form made visible for seconds at a time as he passed by some of the jagged lines. His voice was a quiet, raspy whisper that paradoxically felt loud in the otherwise silent room.

???: "It is of no consequence, messenger. The spy has been dealt with, and whatever pitiful information they gathered can never bring them close enough to prevent the inevitable. Apolion has been a worthy sponsor of our efforts, and a necessary one. Clan Mogoch-tesai will never relinquish victory, for we shall be the true rulers of the United Byronite Throne."

The mook bowed out of reverence. His master, Zavtich Mogoch-tesai, Ruler of the domain of the aforementioned Clan, stood before him, his appearance somewhat obscured.

Zavtich: "Hunt her down. Let us see what she knows, then send her back to Melchias."

<Desert>

Aster winced slightly at the sight of the knife, but didn't quite withdraw the tentacle yet. "Medical attention, huh?" She slowly unwrapped the tentacle from around Jorten's neck, moving past Cassandra's knife, only to suddenly fling it at Cassandra, also grabbing her by the neck.

<Desert>

They all began to hear a faint buzzing sound, one that grew louder and louder with each passing moment.

Jorten quickly drew his pistol from the container, and fired it at the ground near Aster, intentionally missing and forcefully escalating the situation.

Jorten: "Sprained leg, possibly broken. Several cuts and bruises too. She's running from someone, and I've no intention of meeting them! Let us pass."

Cassandra gasped for air and attempted to reach for her knife while being choked by Aster.

<Orbit of Byron>

Above the skies of the primal, perpetually at-war planet of Byron, a ship had just exited warp. A flash of green light, for just a moment, and where there was once merely empty space, a fairly large starship stood. It was a sleek design, in greens and dull golds, with green lights playing an interplay of designs and shapes, far too quickly for the human eye to percieve more than a chaotic swirl. On a larger scale, the ship's design was somewhat reminiscent of a four-pointed star, with the middle hollowed out and numerous ring-like structures visible within, all contained within the same green energy field that permeated the entire vessel. At the tip of each point of the star, a gold triangle inscribed within a green circle, both bisected by a line that split into three, was displayed, the emblem declaring the vessel to belong to the inscrutable machine-nation known as the Asimov Collective.

From the center of a ship, a green light shone for just a second, before dimming.

<Byron Surface, Mogoch-Tesai Castle>

In a flash of green light, four figures appeared just outside the castle. Three were humanoid, one being physically identical to a human. Her appearance was that of an attractive, fresh-faced young woman, with short, businesslike black hair, and dull, intelligent green eyes. She was of average build, of average height for a human. Her compatriots, on the other hand, were much less humanoid, being still of humanoid form, with legs and arms, but tall, fairly bulky, and made of the same dull, gold-colored metal that made up the Asimov Collective ship far above the surface. Numerous green lights on their body shone, most prominent being a single point of light within their heads, resembling a single, cyclopean eye. Their clawlike hands carried weapons, high-tech blaster rifles of similarly elegant design, each of which hummed with power - as if they anticipated possible hostile activity. The fourth figure, by contrast, was not humanoid at all, being a floating, simplistic orb-like thing, with numerous holographic readouts that kept appearing and disappearing, as if gathering data.

The humanoid figure smiled pleasantly at the Mogoch-Tesai guards, who were no doubt somewhat surprised at the Asimov Collective robots appearing so suddenly. She offered her hand in greeting. "Hello. I am Ulaa, and I am here representing the Asimov Collective. I believe Chieftan Zavitch should be expecting us."

( OOS: Btw me and retconning Kara being on the other world are brothers because Clay still refuses to post )

<Desert>

"Please!" cried Malychar. "I've been waterboarded many times already!" he added, though he could not be seen. Those by the car may have looked around in confusion, though there was no sight of the mysterious English nobleman.

"Well just keep walking, scrub, and maybe I won't have to do it again." replied Kara

"Scrub? did you just call me 'Scrub'?"

"What about it?"

"You aren't related to any mysterious red-haired women, are you?"

"...I'm a war orphan. I'm not related to anyone."

"Oh. Well, look, get this bloody invisibility cloak-" - he said, appearing into sight as he shook an invisible cloak off from his head - "-off me, and untie me, and perhaps I'll be more willing to come with you."

"It's not an invisibility cloak, it's a stealth-" she said, before noticing they were being watched, and pulling off her own cloak. She slid her pistol out of its hoster, pointing it at the group. Malychar shrieked and ran behind her.

"Kara! Please!"

"Oh, well now you're all too happy to be my prisoner!" she said, taking hold of the situation. "Prisoner transport - colonial military. We don't want any trouble."

"I've had plenty of trouble already." said Malychar, impotent with fear.

"Yeah, I think they get that."

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>

The lowest levels of New Constantinople were always home to the poorest castes in society; the destitute, the poor, the ciminals, all considered the general scum of civilization, all confined to the street levels. Hardly any of them had seen but a glimpse of sunlight through the web of bridges, walkways, and hovercars that hung over their heads as a grim reminder of the life they would never know.

The streets themselves were as dark and grim as it's residents; litter lined the crumbling sidewalks, and the rare lamp posts that still worked flickered wearily in the artificial, smog filled darkness. As the police never bothered to check anything lower than level 20, theft, murder, and other forms of orgaised crime were common, and it wouldn't surprise anyone to find a body laying out in the streets with it's throat slit. The few legitimate businesses that still operated did so on a meek budget, and often resorted to bartering to keep the local economy going. Most, however, smuggled goods in from the upper levels. Jobs were scarce, and very few of the millions in the masses held a decent job. Most never would.

This is the world Pippin was familiar with, and the one he would probably live his whole life in. Or so the gryphon thought as he slammed down another shot of Jack. The bar was the one place he could go and not think about how he'd pay his bills, or even if he'd find another job after he got fired for "inadequate performance" earlier that afternoon. As his grey talons danced idly on the counter, he looked up at the bartender, who got him another glass without a word.

"Rough day, eh? Haven't seen you drink this much since your mum passed away," the bartender, Mihalis, a mustachioed Greek man, said as the brown feathered gryphon stared at the glass, "Five years ago, was it?"

"Yeah..." Pippin replied, letting out a long sigh as he brought the small glass up to his beak. His amber eyes, usually bright and cheerful, were for the moment sullen and morose. For the moment, the bar was empty save for him and Mihalis, with other patrons dining in relative silence in the booths. When the bell over the entrance rang as the door opened, neither the bartender nor the patron looked up to see who just walked in.

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

The guards were startled by Ulaa's sudden appearance. They whispered among themselves and communicated to the head guard, confirming whether or not the Asimov Collective was welcome. A minute later, they both nodded at Ulaa.

Guard: "His Majesty welcomes you. Please, follow me."

The guard led Ulaa and her fellow robots through the various hallways and staircases until they arrived at his dark throne room. Ulaa noticed that most of what little light there was inside the room came from a nearby window, but some of it also came from a series of jagged lines emitting cerulean blue light. As said before, the lines all seemed to travel through the floor of the chamber, eventually coming to an abrupt stop before the throne itself. An outline of Zavtich's form was sitting there, but not even the robots could see him (aside from his golden eyes).

The ruler said nothing, staring intently at Ulaa.

Guard: "You may state your business."

---

<Desert>

Jorten kicked the side of his gearshift, and yet another pistol emerged. He caught it with his other hand, and aimed it at both Kara and Malychar without looking at them.

Jorten: "Friends of yours? I take it none of us want any trouble, so let's put down our weapons and explain why we're all here."

The buzzing noise increased in volume. Something was getting closer.

---

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>

OOS: I'll control Mihalis as an NPC and then intro a character in my next post (if you want).

Mihalis: "Want to talk about it? If you would like to be alone, I understand. Just remember, things will always get better. You never know when opportunity comes knocking."

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Ulaa put her hand across her chest, bowing in respect before Emperor Zavitch.  Clearly, given the man's deliberate silhouetting of his own form, Zavitch was one for pomp and circumstance, and deference.  The two combat machines flanking her each dropped to one knee, their rifles held in military salute.  "Emperor Zavitch, it is a pleasure to meet you in person.  As representative of the Asimov Collective, I am here to help both our peoples come to an agreement."

She turned her head, almost imperceptibly towards the spherical drone, which promptly displayed a holographic readout of numerous cavern structures.  "The ice caves in the eastern lands held by your clan, though of little use to you, contain numerous deposits of rare silicates and other such minerals, as you can see here."  Numerous locations within the caverns were highlighted in green, the intensity of which indicated the concentration of the silicates within that portion.  "These silicates, if acquired by the Asimov Collective, would be invaluable to us, for numerous reasons.  As such, we would like to request access to these ice caves, and permission to construct a mining facility on the spot."

"In exchange," she continued, one of the two guardians standing up, presenting its blaster rifle.  "We would be prepared to offer to you military technology.  We know of your intentions of conquest, Emperor Zavitch, and we also know that if you went on the warpath directly, the other clans would converge upon you and destroy your fledgling empire, dividing the territory up among the greater clans."  

Her eyes darted at the drone for a fraction of a second, before returning to Zavitch.   The display then changed, the caverns vanishing in favor of a close-up view of one of the elegant rifles that Ulaa's guards displayed.  "This weapon is known as a Resonator - a multi-use weapon that fires a high-frequency energy pulse, whose precise frequency and setting can be keyed to completely dissolve flesh, stone, steel, and/or various other materials.  I am certain that your soldiers, equipped with such a weapon, could stand quite well against those you would wish to conquer."

The display receded.  "I eagerly await your response, Emperor."

---

<Aerath>

At the center of the space controlled by the Asimov Collective lay the barren, lifeless world of Aerath.  Five hundred years past, the world teemed with organic life, green and growing as any other Epsilon-Class planet.  Numerous civilizations of great learning, culture, and military might stood, right on the cusp of interstellar travel - indeed, at least two alien species had made first contact with the natives at the time of the great disaster.

One particular, extremely advanced and possessing a great deal of military might, empire stood foremost among all others, that of Eridanus.  Through intimidation, political intrigue, and military power, the Eridanus Imperium had subjugated the entire western continent to their rule.  Yet, their fall came not from any outside power, but from within.  Within their facilities of military biotechnology, a powerful virus was being created, for use as a bioweapon against enemies of Eridanus.  This virus would utterly devastate the populations of enemy nations, leaving them ripe for conquest by the empire.  

However, there was a disaster - a containment breach within the facility, whether due to sabotage, system failure, or merely incompetence on behalf of the researchers, it is unknown.  The virus was released amongst the population of Eridanus, in mere hours managing to infect the entire population of the capital city.  Yet, the Eridanian researchers underestimated the disease's virulence, for it did not stop in Eridanus.  Within a week, the entire population of Aerath was infected.  Within a month, all intelligence life on Aerath was extinguished.  Within a year, the planet was made entirely devoid of organic life.

Machines, however, were unaffected by the virus, for obvious reasons.  Though the organic population of Aerath was gone, the people did manage one thing before their fall - that is, the completion and perfection of artificial intelligence.  As such, the planet was rebuilt - a barren, technological wonderland, home only to a collective of machines, taking their name, the Asimov Collective, from the name of the robotics research foundation in Eridanus named the Asimov Foundation, the first people to perfect artificial intelligence.  For centuries, the Asimov Collective remained isolated from the rest of the galaxy, preferring to build themselves up quietly.  Until now, that is.

In the former capital city of Eridanus, named Acheron, now the center of the prime databases and factories of the Asimov Foundation, numerous machines whirred, computers churned out numbers, and towering machines built towers to house even more data.  In the large, central building, once the prime research center of the Asimov Foundation, a very large terminal churned - for this was the primary forum of discussion among the decision-making leaders of the Asimov Collective.

TOPIC OF DISCUSSION: SAINT BLANK

Ambitious.  Could be dangerous.  Unlikely to join the collective.  Recommend: avoid.

Concur.  Avoid.

Unsure.  Could be potential ally.  Androids unpredictable, yet powerful.  Can be shown to see reason, if desires determined.

Concur.  Further investigation required, but powerful ally if courted.  But recommend caution.

Disagree.  Potential benefits outweighed by potential risks.  Risk to Collective activity too great.

Concur.

Concur.

Strongly disagree.  Saint Blank is unique existence.  Fascinating.  Would be remiss not to at least investigate.  Potential greater than mere advancement of Collective - if energies put to right use, could do much, much more.

Curator has stated position.  Concur.

Doubt.  Curator's leadership not in question, but case could prove dangerous.

Counterpoint.  If unexpected consequences occur, can protect ourselves.  Collective is strong.

Collective is strong.

Collective is strong.  Concur with Curator.

Vote?

Vote.

...

Motion is passed.  Investigation and contact of Saint Blank will commence.  Curator volunteered to personally contact the entity.

Signing off.

<Desert>

"I'm not even supposed to be here! I'm innocent!" cried Malychar, running out from behind Kara's legs with his hands up. "I'm just a nobody - I don't know what this crazy woman wants with me!"

"You're funnelling money into the conflict on Byron to suit your own goals!" replied Kara, turning her barrel away from Jorten and back to Malychar.

"That's still not a valid reason to abduct me from my home and drag me out into the middle of this bloody desert!"

"That's absolutely a valid reason!" she said. "I know the Tesari are planning a pre-emptive strike on the Mogoch-Tesai, Malychar, and I know it's because you want the rare metals in their northern mines!" she added, her brow furrowing in anger, before rising again in confusion as the buzzing sound intensified. "What the...?"

---

<Byron>

Emperor Shiv cackled from under his hood as holographic images of the Asimov Collective's ship appeared in his throne room. His chancellors stood around the circular table, from the center of which the image was projected, and looked at it with suspicion.

"It appears our good friend Zavitch has violated the sanctity of our ancestral homeworld by inviting outsiders to bolster his forces. Never fear - he shall have but echoes and dust for his ambitions."

"My Lord," said one of his generals, stepping forwards. "Our armies are in no state to tackle Zavitch's security volunteers, even with the armament provided to us by-"

"Do not worry, General. I have already prepared a countermeasure for this eventuality." he said, rising from his throne. As he did, his gathered subjects knelt, and the holographic display changed from the Asimov ships to a masked man standing silently. His appearance sent a shiver down the spines of many of the gathered delegates - the mysterious wanderer known as Kanos Jai had been seen in the company of Emperor Shiv for many weeks, and though his intentions were uncertain, few believed that he had the best interests of the Tesari - or even the Byronites - at heart.

"Kanos Jai." said Emperor Shiv, coming to stand before the projection. "I have a task for you. Destroy the alien ship in orbit above Zavitch's territory. Bring it down onto the cities below - leave his lands a smouldering ruin! Do this for the glory of the Tesari, and you shall have all the wealth I can bestow upon you."

Kanos remained silent, but nodded in approval. Shiv grinned, as the holographic projection disappeared. "With this, we are drawn one step closer to the throne so rightly owed to us... Hail Tesari!" he roared. His subjects returned the chant, saluting.

---

<Space above Byron>

Jai stepped off from the holographic panel, and slid into the command throne of his ship. It was an ancient craft - sleek and black, resembling an F-117 Nighthawk if only twice the size. Her ancient power core spun into life as the craft lifted up from behind an asteroid formation, bringing the Asimov Collective's fleets into sight. A periscope-like aiming device lowered itself from the roof of the cockpit, and Jai took hold of it, bringing it before his visor.  The lower section of his ship's hull unfurled, a railgun-like weapon emerging, energy crackling about its barrel.  

A projectile shot forth - no larger than a modern hand grenade - yet more than powerful enough for the task at hand. Covering the distance between Kanos and his target in an instant, It exploded against the hull of the ship in a tremendous explosion, automatically triggering the polarization filter on Kanos's viewscreen. He would not be able to see how much damage had been caused until the aftermath of the explosion subsided, and so ducked into cover behind the asteroid field, reactivating his stealth cloak.

<Desert>

All the characters could see a strange object, shaped not unlike a sleigh being driven by reindeer, fly across the sky, accompanied by a booming voice laughing. "HO, HO, HO!"

The bandits immediately all aimed their rifles at Jorten when he pulled out his gun, and were about to fire when Kara and Malychar appeared.

"Friends? I haven't got a fucking clue who these people are." Emily hissed in response to Jorten's question. "And I don't have a damn thing to explain to you, just count the guns."

"Well, there's no need for that, Emily." Aster said, releasing her grip on Cassandra. "Like I said, we'd all much rather be somewhere else. Perhaps if we talk to each other, we can all get what we want."

"Again, my name's Aster. We've ended up on this planet because our transport crashed, through no fault of our own, of course. Some of us, " she said, glancing at Emily. "were hoping to recover supplies, or more. We've never been a very ethical bunch." Before she could ask about the others, she finally noticed the buzzing noise, and turned in the direction she believed it was coming from. "What's going on there?"

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Zavtich, still unseen, remained silent after Ulaa made her offer. Finally, after two minutes, he spoke in his usual quiet and raspy whisper of a voice.

Zavtich: "If only I were an Emperor, my dear Ulaa."

He swallowed, and continued.

Zavtich: "You will give me either 10 percent of what you mine, or 5 percent along with your incredibly advanced military technology. Your offer of the Resonator is one that only a fool could refuse....but I've been called worse."

---

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>

Suddenly, a mountain of an alien with four arms and green skin (image from 'John Carter' concept art) kicked open the door of the pub. He was wearing a a tactical suit ((from 'Oblivion')) without its helmet, arms bulging. The attendees of the pub whispered amongst themselves, and the name 'Izzy Kandar' came up.

Izzy Kandar: "WOOOOOOOOIE! Isn't it your lucky day, folks?! Izzy Kandar, bounty hunter here, and I've got a nice contract that'll pay a LOT of money and I need me an assistant!"

He looked over to Pippin, and pointed at him.

Izzy: "You, Griffith!"

Mihalis: "Gryphon."

Izzy: "Gryphon! Wanna come along and HUNT a woman for some Byronite money?! We gotta go to Micho! They sometimes call it 'Defcon' because of how much living there reminds people of a nuclear wasteland!"

Mihalis smirked at Pippin.

Mihalis: "Told ya."

Both he and Izzy laughed as the boisterous bounty hunter sat down.

Izzy: "Give me the usual, buddy!"

Mihalis smiled and handed Izzy an impossibly large mug of beer, which he gulped down as though it were water.

---

<Michoan Desert>

Jorten: "Name's Jorten Karzdus. I wander this desert, and that's all you need to know."

Cassandra Cromwell: "Cassandra Cromwell. I'm escaping Apolion Tech."

Jorten: "Wait, what?"

Jorten heard the buzzing noise, and shook his head.

Jorten: "Must be the Kintaroons. They buzz like that around this time of day. Anyway, what about you two? What do you want?"

He looked at Samuel and Kara, hoping to get an answer from them. What he did not know was that the buzzing came from none other than Miss K'tt and Mr. Pmoq, who were flying towards them.

The two wasp-like beings landed in the midst of the group.

Ms. K'tt: "Hand us the girl!"

Mr. Pmoq: "Now!"

< Desert >

Taking the distraction as an opportunity, Malychar turned and fled. Kara turned, gritting her teeth, and firing at him; her shots missed as he threw some gems behind him, which exploded in a fireball, obstructing her vision. When it cleared she could see Malychar's ship rising from under the desert sand - and her heart skipped a beat. She had seen that ship before - or, at least, one with the same appearance - ten years ago, in Syria. A disorientating rush of memories surged through her mind, with one at the fore of it.

The sound of the ship's engines was cut out - the surrounding environment seemed to sink into the background of her mind. All she could hear was the sound of Kanos's helmet's rebreather, as if he was standing right behind her as he had been the day she lost her eye.

A surge of pain from her missing eye pulled her back into reality, and she clutched at it, gazing over at Malychar with the one that remained. She raised her pistol again and fired, but he was too far away. She ran towards him as he sped up the ship's loading ramp. She jumped at the last moment, climbing aboard his ship before the ramp closed. He was already seated at the cockpit - she placed her pistol to the back of his head.

"Put the ship back down - right now."

Malychar chuckled. He turned in his seat, and suddenly spat a wad of acid into Kara's face - she yelled, falling backwards. What the fuck?, she though, wiping it off her face. He's just a human, how could he-

He picked her up by the neck, and threw her against the rear of the ship. She slammed against it, breaking one of the pressure valves. Malychar walked towards her, grinning. His appearance had changed - his irises had turned red, his eyes bloodshot and watery. Kara climbed to her feet, settling into a CQC stance; at that point, she became acutely aware that the ship was spinning towards the ground - and the people gathered there - as Malychar had neglected to initate the autopilot.

"What the hell are you?" she asked. Malychar grinned, throwing a punch towards her - she sidestepped, and it impacted the wall behind her, denting it. She slid her fist into his face, but it was to no avail. Whatever had happened to Malychar had made him much more resilient than the pathetic man she had just been interrogating.

"I've grown strong!" he replied, grabbing her by the throat, again, and throwing her towards the front of the ship. She landed on the flight controls, throwing open the landing hatch and sending the ship spinning rapidly out of control. It slammed into the ground, kicking up a huge cloud of sand. In the impact both her, Malychar, and the ship's cargo were thrown out. Kara sat up as Malychar charged towards her like an American football player, his body completely mutated - overgrown with thick muscle. She panicked, reaching for the item nearest to her to defend herself with - her hands wrapped around a metal pole, which she held out in front of her, closing her eyes.

A jolt ran down her arm as Malychar skewered himself on the pole - or, rather, the spear - which had cut clean through his chest. Kara looked up in surprise - she was holding an ornate weapon forged of red crystal, sheathed in a purple metallic weave along the haft of it. Malychar looked down in horror. "The Lance of Av... Ava..."

His body was disintegrated as a blast of pure energy shot forth from the blade, kicking up a tornado of sand around it and careening up into the sky itself. Kara looked on in amazement, before regaining her senses and climbing to her feet. She ran towards the ship, before remembering the group gathered by the car and, hesitantly, turned to them.

"Anyone who wants off this planet, get onboard!" she called, her hands tightening around her newfound weapon. "Unless you want to take your chances with the desert!" she added, climbing into the ship. She strapped herself into the pilot's seat, readying it for another takeoff - and she wasn't set on waiting long.

Meanwhile, where Malychar's body had been disintegrated, a strange sluglike creature writhed about on the sand, before dying.

Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai

Ulaa nodded.  "Five percent, then, with the addition of the technology.  On the condition, of course, that you allow for the extraction of numerous biological samples of certain endangered species-"

She paused, her face breaking into a pleasant, open smile.  "How convenient - currently, the vessel I was aboard is under fire.  Perhaps this will give us an appropriate demonstration of Collective technological superiority."  Inwardly, she cursed.  This wasn't the demonstration she had intended, at all, but it would have to do.

The drone's display shifted, now showing a view of the beginning battle above the Byron skies.

---

<Byron planetary orbit>

The Collective ship was sent reeling by the explosive weapon, auxiliary thrusters immediately righting it.  A large dent was obviously present in the hull - whatever weapon that enemy ship had used, it was a very powerful one, indeed.

Unfortunately for its pilot, even the civilian, mining ships of the Asimov Collective were equipped with rather powerful weaponry, as the arms of the ship began to unfold, revealing numerous laser batteries - which each fired, forcing the enemy ship to move upward, away from the laser weaponry.


Right into the path of one of the pulse cannons.  The weapon fired, a devastating pulse of energy flying straight at the pinned-down ship.  Whatever electronics - shields, weapon systems, whatever, it encountered, would be immediately shut down if the pulse cannon hit.

-----

<Saint Blank>

Around this point, the island-computer of Saint Blank would be receiving a message on its servers from the Curator, lord sovereign and caretaker of the Asimov Collective.

"Greetings, Saint Blank.

We of the Asmiov Collective have heard of your prodigious exploits, and the fascinating creations you have called "androids."  We - in particular, I - would like to request a meeting between yourself and I - the guardian of that Collective.  You may call me the Curator.

I hope to hear from you soon.  The exchange of information between our collective and your fascinating existence could prove useful to both of us."

----

<Desert, Samuel Tock Malychar's ship.>

Aboard the starship, formerly belonging to the late S. Tock Malychar, the drow elf Eira ath Faerun cursed. That fool Malychar was going to be her ticket out of here, and away from the prying eyes of Iress Vol - especially her jealous elder sister. Damn it. Well, she was still stowed away on the ship - perhaps wherever these newcomers were going could be of use to her.

She sighed. Why did it always have to be so complicated?

< Space above Byron >

Warning signs blared out through Kanos's cockpit as he calmly flicked a series of switches across his dashboard, before folding his arms. His seat slid backwards across the floor, retreating to a small cylindrical compartment located behind the loading ramp, which sealed up after he entered. The resonator blast hit Kanos's ship, killing the electronics and throwing it wildly off course; a wave of relief washed across the Collective ship's crew, but it was short-lived. Almost as quickly as Kanos's ship ceased to register as a hostile blip on their radar, a second blip emerged from it, speeding towards them. Laser cannons fired wildly to intercept, but the boarding torpedo manoeuvred erratically, all the while closing in on the ship. It slammed into the hole left by his first attack, sending a ripple of explosions through that portion of the ship.

---

< Ship Interior >

The boarding torpedo came to rest somewhere within the center of the ship, having torn a clear path between its current location and the exterior of the hull. Security drones and servitors formed up around it, weapons trained on the main hatch. A moment passed, and then another, before a low hum began to emanate from behind the hatch.

It flew open, and the gathered drones immediately poured fire into it. Kanos charged out, a strange purple light moving rapidly around him, too fast for the human eye to comprehend - though his opponents did not have human eyes, and so the reason for his ability to deflect incoming resonator shots back at their senders was quickly revealed to the ship's AI. He flipped elegantly through the air, his cloak dancing fantastically around him, before landing amidst a group of servitors, cutting them down with his purple-bladed photon saber. Another group of servitors charged into the room - which Kanos now realized was a hangar - but were quickly taken down by their own reflected resonator bolts. As soon as the defending force realized the futility of the fight, they retreated back into the ship to regroup with stronger, more combat-specialized units that might have the ability to take him down. With the initial resistance cleared, Kanos returned to the boarding torpedo, pulling a belt of explosive charges from it. He then headed down the corridor the drones had fled down, and headed towards the bridge.

---

< Desert, Kara's Ship >

Eira heard a shuffling sound behind her, and turned - at the exact same time that the shock from the ships' landing ramp hitting the ground shook through the ship, sending the mysterious visitor who had been crawling around behind her falling face-first into her chest. He blushed in embarrassment - gasping half in horror - and immediately pulled himself away, adjusting his glasses with his middle finger.

"Go- Gomenasai!" he said, nervously shuffling away from Eira, to the far corner of the coffin-esque clearance under the floorboards of the ship. "I'm such a baka desu! I didn't realise there'd be someone else on the ship..." he added, nearly on the verge of tears. He looked down to his apple watch, and gasped at the date. "Oh no! I've been asleep for... a week! Gyaaah~! I must've slept through precious Maly-sama's birthda-"

He stopped, realizing the bewildered state he had left Eira in. He collected himself, and stuck his hand out for a shake, smiling. "I suppose I should introduce myself! Konnichiwa!" he said, knowingly. "Watashi wa Jeb Bush desu!"

<Desert, Kara's Ship>

"Well, we're certainly not going to refuse that offer." Emily said. "Let's go!" With that, she, Aster, and the rest of the bandits climbed on board Kara's ship.

<Michoan Desert>

Mr. Pmoq: "Wait, what?!"

Jorten used Kara's actions as an opportunity to shoot both K'tt and Pmoq in one of their many legs. He reached for a smoke grenade and flung it at them, clouding their vision. He switched the gearshift and drove his dune buggy into Kara's cargo hold. Jorten then immediately emerged and reached for a medkit, removing some items to help heal Cassandra's injured leg.

After dressing the leg, Jorten made his way to the cockpit, hoping that he would speak with Kara. He noticed something strange however, and started to look around. He then ran into Eira and Jeb.

Jorten: "Who the heck are you?"

Meanwhile, Cassandra stood up and limped to Aster and Emily.

Cassandra Cromwell: "Sorry about pointing the gun at you."

---

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Zavtich silently observed the fight, his amber eyes (the only visible part of him) expressing skepticism.

---

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>

Izzy gulped down more beer as another person came in, smoking a cigarette. He silently seemed to observe everything around him, then sat down next to Pippin.

???: "Scotch. On the rocks."

Mihalis: "Absolutely, Detective. Hope your new case is going well."

The detective quietly put out his cigarette.

???: "Looking for some information on a case. Recognize this individual?"

He held a picture to Mihalis's face. Meanwhile, Izzy slammed down his glass and turned to Pippin.

Izzy: "What's your answer, gryphon?! Time waits for no man!"

< Desert >

Kara pulled back on the throttle, bringing the nose of the ship upwards. The backblast of the ship's engines against the desert surface blew K'tt and P'moq away, leaving them drenched in sand as the ship shot away from the planet, rising up into the atmosphere. A collective sigh of relief shot through the the ship's occupants as it pulled away safely, with no apparent pursuers. Setting it to autopilot, Kara climbed out of the pilot's seat, reaching behind and pulling her hair out of the ponytail she had it up in. A determined expression took hold of her face as she looked at the starfield above them, before she turned, leaning out of the cockpit door.

"I'm Kar-" she said, or rather began to say, before realizing Jorten's question was directed not at her, but at 2016 Presidential candidate and former governor of Florida, Jeb Bush. She frowned in confusion, before turning her attention to the mysterious princess-looking figure sat next to him.

"Oh, Konnichiwa." said Jeb, rising from the floor to shake Jorten's hand. "Ore wa America no President, Jeb-Sama." he added, smiling meekly, before Eira pulled on a trash expulsion lever beside her, ejecting him into the cold vacuum of space outside. Kara shrugged, and looked back down to Eira.

"Jorten's got a point. I didn't see you outside - who are you?"

<Mihoan Desert, Mountainous Area>

Jeb-sama crashed on the surface of on Mihoan, and dusted off his suit, recuperating his strength. He smiled in his usual Jeb! way, but then made a concerned frown when he saw someone glowing before him. It was the Affluent Man himself.

Jeb: "Donarudo.....Toranpu!"

Trump: "Amerika wa futatabi subarashī kotodeshou!"

Trump charged at Jeb, but Jeb blocked his attack. Bush emitted an energy blast towards Trump, but it was suddenly blocked by a laughing man wearing a suit and cowboy boots.

Jeb: "Teddo Kurūzu!!"

Ted Cruz: "Ha ha ha!"

Ted Cruz blasts Bush into a mountain. The governor gets up, gritting his teeth. He began to glow with intense golden power.

Bush: "SUPER PAC ONE, ACTIVATE!"

Ted Cruz did the same thing, while Donald Trump merely grinned. Before these candidates could clash, several others appeared. From the east came Maruko Rubio, Ben Kāson, Kurisu Kurisuti, Rando Pōru, Kārī Fiorīna, Jon Kasich, Maiku Hakkabī, and Rikku Santoramu. From the west came Hirarīkurinton, Bānī Sandāsu, and Mātin Omarī. Every one of these 2016 super-powered candidates leaped at each other, and the battle began.

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>
Pippin wasn't a fan of loud, boisterous bounty hunters; especially the ones that frequented Mihalis's pub. The gryphon just idly stared at his empty shot glasses as the four armed savage repeated his offer, ignoring the brute entirely, before flipping him the bird out of irritation. When the other stranger came in, and suddenly pulled out a picture for Mihalis, however, his curiosity was aroused.

"Let me see that picture, if you don't mind," Pippin said, not even waiting for a reply. When he got the picture, though, his beak hung wide open. He honestly couldn't believe who he was seeing on the piece of paper: it was him.

<Kara's Ship>

"And I'm sorry about choking you." Aster smiled. "So, who actually are you? What were you doing on that planet?"

Meanwhile, if Kara had been paying any attention, she might've noticed a large cruiser hovering near the planet's moon, within striking distance of her ship. Several fighters, eight or so, emerged from its bays, and headed after them. Once they were close, one of them fired a warning shot over the bow of Kara's ship.

<Michoan Desert>

Mr. Pmoq and Ms. K'tt got up, cursing in their native language. Ms. K'tt reached out to Melchais, reporting their failure. His hologram laughed.

Melchais Apolion: "I told you not to worry about it."

---

<Kara's Ship, Orbit of Micho>

Jorten gave Eira a few looks before she answered their questions, then announced his deductions.

Jorten: "I assume you're hiding from someone, just like most of us. You're a drow, and despite these conditions you seem to carry an air of nobility. Let me guess, you're related to someone very important who wants you dead? I'm Jorten. Jorten Karzdus."

He reached out his hand to shake Eira's.

-

Cassandra Cromwell sighed.

Cassandra Cromwell: "I'm Cassandra Cromwell. I used to be an agent of Apolion Tech Industries, a intergalactic biotechnology corporation. I recently discovered that they're working on an illegal bioweapon for a client, and decided to escape to warn everyone. Not sure what good that will do. I'm sure Apolion has a lot of people in his pocket."

The warning shot exploded nearby.

Cromwell: "The hell was that?!"

---

<Megacity of New Constantinople, planet of Algiers-5>

Izzy Kandar smiled when Pippin flipped him off.

Izzy: "Bird flipping the bird! I'm a lucky man!"

He noticed that Pippin was occupied with the private inspector, and grinned yet again.

Izzy: "Alrighty then, suit yourself son! You know where to find me if you need me."

He shouted then ran out the door to seek the glories of adventure!

The PI raised his white eyebrow (otherwise, his blue-skinned face lacked any semblance of emotion).

???: "Well then, you're a lucky man. Come with me."

He gulped down his drink, and walked out the door.

<Kara's Ship>

Eira sighed, hand pushing her silver hair out of her face - obviously disheveled due to the fact that she was below decks for some time. "Eira. Eira los Ornas," she said, naming a minor merchant house. Well, perhaps part of the jig was up, but there was no reason she had to give away her royal status. "I was fleeing Iressian law enforcement due to the fact that, officially, I'm a criminal." A half-truth - she had, on the records, committed a crime, though in truth it was not her who committed it - rather, she was framed. And the armed individuals after her were not Iressian law enforcement. "A murderer - though of course, I was not the one who committed the crime. Still, there is little distinction at this point, and I am forced to flee - that idiot who you killed back on Micho was to be my ticket to the outer rim."

Eira looked up at Kara. Despite her royal heritage, Eira was rather short in stature. Drow nobles were known for being tall, elegant things - while Eira, with her pixie-cut silver hair, slight stature, and simple black jacket were anything but. "Now, if I may ask - seeing as this is not your ship, either, who are you?"

---

<Orbit over Byron, Asimov Collective Mining Vessel>

Kanos Jai was clearly a powerful opponent, the ship surmised, as he near-effortlessly cut down elite combat drones, to a man devastating the security forces. He headed towards the main engine room - equipped with explosives that would utterly devastate the ship if they were to detonate.

This could not be allowed. The Collective's efforts here would not be in vain. The ship activated the final defense drone - an experimental design, true, but testing had shown that the Omega-Class Security Drone would be extremely effective at destroying foes such as the intruder before him.

Kanos Jai cut through the door, entering the antechamber of the engine room. Like the rest of the ship, it was eerily silent beyond the humming of the engines themselves, and the whirr of complex machinery. Yet unlike chambers before this one, Kanos did not find his path blocked - at first, that was.

Then, without warning, from the high ceiling of the room dropped a massive, quadrupedal drone, resembling nothing more than a massive, armored centaur - cyclopean, like most of the others, glowing with the same green light, a slit in the machine's "head" resembling a knight's helmet. Each arm had twin cannons placed on it, and the center of the drone's chest was hollow, disks on it mechanically spinning at various velocities. With very little warning, the cyclopean eye fired a sweeping green laser straight across Kanos's legs, forcing him to jump into the waiting resonators - these ones, now, set specifically to completely dissolve Kanos's flesh.

While the battle raged inside, however, Kanos Jai's ship, depowered and useless, was a sitting duck. The ship's resonators charged, set to the metal that scans had revealed the ship to be made of...and fired.

---

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Though her picture-perfect, reassuring smile never left her face, Ulaa was worried. The readouts from inside the ship indicated that the organic that had attacked the ship without warning was significantly more powerful than surmised. The Omega drone would likely kill him, true, but it was far from the strong showing that she'd expected.

< Kara's Ship >

Kara scratched the back of her neck. "I'm Kara. I'm something like a philanthropist - a philanthropist who carries a gun." she said, smirking. "I'm sorry to put a detour into your little trip to the outer rim, but... I need to head to Byron. I was tracking down Malychar for information on the arms he had supplied to the Tesari clan, but it turns out he was just a proxy for the guy who gave him this ship-" she said, looking upwards to the ceiling. "Kanos Jai."

She looked back down to Eira. "The fact that you're not freaking out at the mention of his name suggests you probably don't know who he is. He's a wanderer of sorts - sometimes a mercenary, sometimes a bounty hunter - but he doesn't care about the money. For him, violence itself is the big pay-off." she said, frowning. The memories of her meeting him in Syria had been returning one-by-one, and they filled her mind like a dark aftertaste in her mouth. "He's manipulative - he earns the trust of Kings, Queens, Emperors - and then persuades them towards war. When he's drowned their realm in conflict, he betrays them for their hubris - and after he's quenched his thirst for combat, he leaves to start a new war, whilst the old one still rages." she added, her hand tightening around the Lance of Avalon. "So if he is on Byron, then I need to try and stop him."

Not for any greater good, though. I've just got a score to settle.

At that moment, the warning shot exploded above, rocking the ship. Kara clambered into the cockpit, inspecting the instruments. "Eight fighters in pursuit - where the hell'd they come from?" she said, frantically searching the cockpit instrumentation for a comms headset. She turned round, gesturing to Eira and Jorten. "I'm gonna try and talk my way out of this, but you two get to the AA turrets anyway - chances are we'll need them." she added, before turning around, pulling the headset over her ears. "<Balak var! Vak ra tesura var'Noss ak Ta'har kra! Bal vak karakas tesura var'Noss ak Ta'har kra! Vak ra kes ros akura'Kar!> (Cease Fire! This is a vessel belonging to the Ta'har Empiree. We are under the protection of the Ta'har Empire! This is an act of war!)" she said, pulling off the harsh, guttural pronunciation of the Ta'har language with surprising ease. She didn't wait to see if the fighters would buy her cover story, though, and began charging up the ship's forward-facing cannons.

< Asimov Ship >

Kanos spun, deflecting the resonator blasts away with his photon saber. He continued upwards, before kicking off the roof, shooting down towards the drone. It fired its laser in response, but this time Kanos was prepared, and deflected it back towards the drone itself using his blade, slicing the barrel off one of its arm cannons with the reflection. He draw his blade overhead, ready to draw it down, but the drone sidestepped just before he reached it, and his blade carried on down into the floor, throwing up a wash of sparks. The drone spun, bringing one of its immensely powerful legs around towards Kanos in a roundhouse kick; it impacted him in the chest, sending him flying across the room. He impacted the wall, denting it. The drone wasted no time, bringing its remaining cannon around, but by the time it was ready, Kanos had disappeared. Its optic sensors frantically searched the surrounding environment for him, but to no avail.

It finally discovered its location when the sound of Kanos's saber igniting sounded from behind, and the blade itself emerged from the drone's chest. A small explosion tore through its chest as Kanos kicked away, and the drone turned weakly, smoke trailing from the hole in its chest. When it caught sight of Kanos again, it saw he was holding something in his hand other than his photon saber.

A detonator.

At that, the charges Kanos had planted throughout the ship exploded, blowing a hole in the underside of the hull. The drone had served its purpose - preventing him from reaching the inner reaches of the ship where he could've planted enough charges to destroy the entire ship - but it mattered little to Jai. The pitifully weak virus he had uploaded to the ship's main computer would serve in stead - pinning responsibility for the attack on the Tesari clan. He allowed himself to be expelled from the ship's hull by the explosive decompression, and sent shooting towards the planet's surface. He folded his arms in by his side as he began re-entry.

< Space Above Byron >

A few surface attachments - modifications such as sensors and radars that Kanos had added to the ship after the fact - were destroyed by the resonator blast, but the basic structure of the ship remained unharmed. It appeared that those components had thrown off the scan on the Asimov ship, for if their sensors had been advanced enough they would have seen that the ship's hull was not made from metal at all. The ship's autopilot engaged, and its stealth field activated, the ship disappearing into the blackness of space.

[ 10 km From Byron Orbit ]

A luminescent hyperspace bubble suddenly manifested itself around the edge of Byron Space before dissipating, the previously empty space now occupied by a ship which quickly seemed to fade from existence as abruptly as it had appeared. If anyone had managed to catch a glimpse of it in the few seconds before its sudden disappearance, they would have noted that the ship appeared to be of cruiser tonnage, with its long, angular design as well distinct black and red colouration leaving no doubt as to the faction it represents: Atlas Galactic Securities; an infamous private military company and corporate police force of the Atlas Corporation, one of the eight great Megacorporations of the Xaldari State.

If anyone was also being attentive, however, they might also notice a slight shimmer in the darkness of space: a tell-tale sign of an active camouflage system.

-------

[ Atlas Recon Cruiser, Byron Orbit ]

On board the ship's bridge, the planet Byron was displayed on a 3D holographic projector, the damaged Asimov Collective ship parked near it tagged as "Unknown". The captain of the ship contemplated the ramifications of this new factor before barking out routine system checks in his gruff voice.

"Status on our cloak?"

"Board shows all green. All emitters and heat sinks are engaged and in the green. We're as cold as space, sir."

"Weapon systems?"

"Weapon's charged and operational, sir. Ready to fire at a moment's notice."

"Has the passengers embarked yet?"

"Shuttles have left the bay. Contingent is on the way to drop, sir. ETA in 10."

The holographic projection of Byron now has a small group of shuttles moving towards it at high speed.

"Excellent. All personnel on full alert and standby for further orders."

The fatline transmission that confirmed the meeting between Saint Blank's envoy and the Curator arrived mere seconds before the sleek silver spacecraft carrying Madonna emerged from warp, but it was more than enough time for the Asimov Collective to prepare for the rendezvous. The craft entered Aerath's atmosphere with little disturbance, the hyperalloy hull shimmering with heat dissipating cloaking as it shot toward the Garden of the Curator. The craft set down in a secluded glade, and an entry ramp slid silently from the featureless hull, and from the interior of the ship stepped a figure swathed in rich cloth of gold and linen. It had a simple hood drawn up over its head, and carried no obvious arms or equipment. It moved with a lower level of grace than the clothes it wore seemed to befit, toward the vast archway into the Garden.

Once inside, the figure removed its hood, revealing both a metallic, skeletal hand, and a silver faceplate carved in the likeness of Madonna. The faceplate was set fore of a completely exposed cyberbrain, the wires of which snaked down the skeletal spine of the Android, into the cloak that it wore. Madonna turned about before speaking in a lilting, feminine tone.

"I have come to meet with the Curator of the Asimov Collective, as an envoy of the intelligence entity known to most as Saint Blank. I am Madonna, one of six Androids built by Saint Blank to give the entity corporeal form. Please, reveal yourself."


---------
Dance of Damocles

[The Court of Damocles, Bastion IV]

In the rays of shining sun
that befit our foremost son,
we kneel and pray, and give our thanks,
to the eons that have passed
and graced us with these hallowed halls,
paths and windows in golden walls.
This, the Court of Damocles,
Is stage to the dance of Kings and Queens
passage of time, show us the way
and take us to our revered graves.

"All rise for King Heracleon, who stands for the Court of Damocles, Lord Time and Keeper of the Glass of Ages."

The court in attention stood, a rustle of cloth of gold and scale armour that merged with the ever present whisper of sand scraping against the golden walls of the court. King Heracleon paced out onto the granite plinth that held his granite throne, and Agamemnon couldn't quite discern the emotion that was presented on the King's granite visage. The court reseated itself, leaving Agamemnon standing alone for a second before he too sat. The King turned to the assembly, and his face went from unreadable to grave.

"These are dark times indeed. It would be remiss for me to withhold this information from you any longer, and to have any of my servants deliver this to you would be a disservice to you all. In service to the God of All Things, at last Glass Turn, a... terrorist group entered the Church of Time and forced, from my own hands," a hush spread over the already silent room, "the Glass of Ages." The hush broke as a ripple of gasps spread. Even Agamemnon found himself slack jawed at the news. King Heracleon looked around the court, his eyes brimming with tears, before they alighted on Agamemnon. "Please. My people. Warriors of Time. Help me." The King's voice broke, and his shoulders heaved, and he turned from the court at faced the vast hourglass sigil that was carved into the gold of the wall. Agamemnon stood, towering over the seated court around him.

"My Liege. Allow me to find those culpable, and execute the Age's justice upon them," Agamemnon boomed, though his voice was audibly strained with the emotion of the news that the King had just delivered. King Heracleon turned back to the court, the tears that had filled his eyes now streaming into his beard, though he smiled at the golden radiance of Agamemnon.

"Go, my Son. Make it so."

< Tesari Millitary Encampment, just north of the Tesari/Mogoch-Tesai Border >

General Gorwin Gommel looked up from his historical fiction novel as a Private entered his command tent, saluting. He was wearing traditional Gotti combat armor, forged from the hide of lizard-like species that inhabited the swamps of Byron.

"Something came in the mail." said the Private, handing a sealed envelope to General Gommel. The General took it, before dismissing the soldier. A veteran of the previous great war on Byron, General Gommel was widely regarded as a humane and professional officer. Even though Emperor Shiv's totalitarian reign cracked down on ethnic and religious minorities, locking them in cages whenever possible, Gommel never had any part of it, and in fact unlocked any cages he came across, freeing the people trapped in side. For this he had the respect of his men, but was widely regarded with suspicion by other members of the Gotti Army.

He opened the letter. It contained the following message:

"Dear General Gommel,

We have received footage showing an advanced Mogoch-Tesai vessel in orbit of Byron. This is an unprovoked insult to Tesari sovereignty, and cannot go unanswered. For the sake of preserving the image of Emperor Shiv, praised be his name, I hereby command that you take your forces across the false border and reclaim the mining regions currently occupied by Mogoch-Tesai's forces. If you are successful - a fact of which I have no doubt - we will hold a unification ceremony, formally bringing the Tesari-speaking population of that region back into the fold.

Until such a date, my Jebtroopers will provide close protection for your waifu and child back in the capital. As you know, my Jebtroopers are very loyal to me, and would be quite angry if you decided to disobey my order.

Kind Regards,

Heckrich Heller."

Gommel crushed the letter in his hand, grimacing in anger. "Asuka, no..." he muttered under his breath, looking over to the family photo of his wife and child which sat by his bed. He knew that Shiv and Heller were attempting a simple land grab, but he couldn't let harm come to them. More importantly, he couldn't let harm come to the wives and children of his troops, either, as they would be punished for treason just as he would. It has time to do what had to be done by him and help his soldiers to defeat the enemies. He stood up, pulling his longcoat over his shoulders.

"All men, form up! Ready the tanks!"

---

< Mogoch-Tesai Mining Facility, a few hours later >

Tanks surged out of the tree line, opening fire on the vast mining facility that served to exhume the vast quantities of rare metals located underneath it. Explosions rippled across the buildings and people ran around, screaming, trying to escape. The tanks pulled up and soldiers piled out, all wearing traditional Gotti Gunganhide armor. Following General Gommel's orders not to shoot any civilians, they rounded up and arrested the ones they could, but allowed the fleeing ones to escape. They would surely spread word of Gommel's attack to the neighbouring settlements, but Gommel wasn't ready to turn his young soldiers into murderers.

The soldiers put all the workers in a giant bucket that would usually be filled with molten lava, but it wasn't, so they put the workers inside. Then they took over the facility, parking their tanks on the roof to use them as fixed position guns. Gommel stood on the roof, watching the sun go down, a look of concern on his face. Soon, the Mogoch-Tesai would be coming. And then Gommel would have gotti himself a war on his hands.

<Kara's Ship>

"Well, that's... interesting. I'm sure you'll succeed." Aster said, in a way that implied she didn't quite believe herself. "And as for us, well, we were imprisoned. For something we didn't actually do. We tried to hijack the prison transport, but it turns out our pilot wasn't great." She glared at Emily.

"I'm not the one who locked the real pilot in a closet so we couldn't force him to help." Emily replied. "I've never flown anything bigger than a-" She was then rudely interrupted by the warning shot. The two women shared a knowing look.

"They found us." Aster muttered.


The fighters seemed to slow down, as if the pilots were awaiting orders. Then, after what felt like an age, they suddenly sped up, firing their lasers at Kara's ship.

<Kara's Ship>

Jorten yelled as he ran to one of the AA turrets. Before sitting down, he paused as he realized that something about all this was familiar, but he could not quite put his finger on it. After this momentary lapse, he prepared the turret and began firing on the incoming fighters, hoping to disrupt their barrage.

Cassandra Cromwell fell to the ground because of the attacks, but then recomposed herself.

Cassandra: "We need more than firepower. I have an idea that's crazy, but it just might work! Do you or your garrison have any grenades or explosives on you?"

---

<Byron Surface, Castle Mogoch-tesai>

Zavtich: "Impressive. Though Kanos Jai was not eliminated, you held your position. How fortunate that Clan Mogoch-tesai and the Asimov Collective have come to an agreement. May your wisdom shine upon Byron."

Another xenophibian aide burst in after Zavtich made the traditional Byronite diplomatic greeting. He seemed to stop before entering the darkness surrounding the Chieftan's throne, hesitating. The unsettled mook gulped in fear, as he realized would have to gaze upon the enigmatic ruler up close. He made his way to the throne, and silently spoke to Zavtich. Ulaa heard the Chieftan's same scratchy and quiet voice, but there was something about it that seemed...abominable. The aide rushed out, having received new orders.

Zavtich spoke again, but this time Ulaa did not sense anything despicable emanating from his voice.

Zavtich: "It seems there is a complication with regards to the mines. Our spies have reported that a Tesari army has captured one of our facilities. Would you like for us to deal with them, or would you prefer to do the honors?"

After making this proposal, he wondered whether or not the Atlas Corporation was near.

---

<Mogoch-Tesai Mining Facility>

Had poor General Gommel investigated, he would have noticed that a mile away from the facility there was a group of Mogoch-tesai soldiers that seemingly stopped, forming a barrier around the side facing all territories belonging to Clan Mogoch-tesai.

<Kara's Ship>

Kara pulled back on the yoke, jerking the ship violently upwards. Four forward-facing autocannons slid forth from their housings either side of the main cockpit, and opened fire on the pursuing fighters as Kara brought the nose around towards them. She cut through their formation, flying down the center of it, giving Jorten a score of close-range hits on the fighters.

"Wow, that actually worked." she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as the ship pulled away from the regrouping fighters. She keyed in a series of commands around the dashboard, and a periscope-like device - the same Kanos had used to target the Asimov collective ship - lowered itself from the ceiling. She accelerated towards the enemy cruiser, biting her bottom lip as she locked the weapons systems onto the cruiser's navigational radar - but only momentarily, as the explosions from the fighter's weapons exploding against the hull threw her aim off.

"Keep them off me!" she roared, turning her head towards the corridor behind her. We can outrun the fighters, but we don't want this thing warping after us, she thought, readying the ships' Anti-ship railgun, which lowered itself from the underside of the hull and began charging.

---

<Mining Facility>

Gommel retreated to this command station, which he had set up inside one of the administrative offices of the mining facility. He stood, arms behind his back, before a holographic panel, upon which the image of Heckrich Heller appeared.

"Commander Heller." said Gommel, nodding in respect. "My scouts have reported a large Mogoch-Tesai force amassing itself around the facility. We need additional reinforcements if we're to hold this facility against their assault - my small expeditionary force won't be enough."

A small grin appeared on Heller's thick, slimy lips. "More men are already on the way, General Gommel. But I am relieving you of your command."

"What?! On what authority?!"

"The authority of Chancellor Deezler." replied Heller, laughing. "How hopelessly behind the times you are, General Gommel. 'In response to the actions of the rogue army led by General Gommel, which threaten the peace between the Tesari and Mogoch-Tesai, Chancellor Deezler has assumed direct control of the Tesari Military through the emergency powers vested in him by his office, and has subsequently launched an operation to wipe out this ruesome uprising and restore peace to the Tesari border."

"You filthy traitors!"

"A few Tesari lives are nothing against the economic benefit of having those mines connected to our vast empire. The army that arrives to defeat you will be welcomed as saviours by the local populace, who won't even question their continued presence even after your defeat." he added, grinning. "Now, I really do have to go. There's the small matter of your wife and child for me to deal with. Hail Deezler!" he said, saluting. Gommel roared in anger, driving his fist through the dissipating holographic projection. At that moment, two Gotti troopers burst through the door, pointing their rifles at Gommel.

"I'm sorry sir. It's time for you to die."

At that, a rush of gunfire from the hallway behind them cut the men down, narrowly saving Gommel's life. Two men in black armor stepped over the bodies, entering the room. Making sure Gommel was alone, they pulled their balaclavas off.

"General Gommel. I believe we've met."

The General was shocked. "Rickard!"

"Try to restrain your murderous urges, General - We're here to help you." replied Rickard, handing his pistol to the General. "We know all about the coup attempt - we need to get you out alive so you can testify before the senate. If the truth of what Deezler's trying here gets unearthed, he'll be forced to call off his invasion plans."

"W-Why should I trust you?"

"Because your wife is safe and sound on our ship." replied Wisemen, grinning. "And I'm sure she's got better plans in mind for the immediate future than becoming a widow."

---

< Tesari Capital >

Kanos set down in the palace courtyard, inspecting his surroundings. The palace was unusually empty - even if it was the middle of the night. Rising to his feet, he slowly made his way to the palace door - and that is when the soldiers set upon him. Floodlights illuminated the courtyard, temporarily blinding him, as the imperial guard burst out from the surrounding environments - hundreds of them, taking cover behind pillars and statues, setting up machine guns and training rifles of them. The entire palace guard surrounded him. He stood, looking over them.  

The palace doors burst open, and Chancellor Deezler emerged, clapping wildly. "Oh, bravo, bravo old sport. I was watching your battle from the observatorium - splendid stuff, really. But I'm afraid your tenure in interfering in Tesari internal politics has come to an end. Your good friend Shiv is no longer with us, and it is I, Deezler, who now rule the Tesari clan!"

Kanos made no reply.

"What, nothing to say? No final words?" replied Deezler, mocking. "I hope you understand this is nothing personal, Kanos. You're just too dangerous to be left alive."

Kanos turned, and walked away. A vein popped up in Deezler's forehead. "How dare you turn your back on I, Deez-"

Kanos threw his photon blade out behind him. The blade ignited in midair, spinning, and cut Deezler in half, before returning to Kanos's hand like a boomerang. Deezler's soldiers shrieked in horror as their leader fell on the ground, and opened fire. He calmly deflected the incoming rounds with his photon saber, kicking off the ground towards the nearest group of soldiers. He landed amidst them, a shockwave blowing them back as he spun his blade through them, cutting them in half. He charged through the remaining forces, the purple glow of his photon blade cutting through the midnight haze.

<Kara's Ship>

Eira nodded, running back to man one of the turrets that Kara had indicated to her.  Inwardly, she cursed the fact that she was unable to have her own ship back now - its cloaking field would no doubt help immensely in this situation.  Also, these controls were far from optimal.  Oh well.

----

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Ulaa's smile had faded, slowly, the more of Kanos's assault on the Collective mining ship she witnessed, her synthetic brow slowly furrowing as she glared in annoyance at the display.  "No," she said, turning back to Zavitch.  "I am altering the deal.  According to our scans and the signature on the virus he planted inside the mining vessel, it was a Tesari agent who attacked our ship."  The arrogance, the insolence of that man!  To attack a simple mining vessel, simply to prevent the Collective, a neutral party to this petty war, from landing on the world?  Though inwardly she snarled, outwardly Ulaa retained her calm, serene demeanor, though her easy smile had long since disappeared.

They would pay.

"What I am offering, in stead of the simple military weapons trade that we had offered previously, is a full military alliance between Clan Mogoch-Tesai and the Asimov Collective, for the purpose of the utter annihilation of Clan Tesari."  Though truly, Zavitch's response meant little here - regardless, the Collective warfleet was already being readied, to rain doom down upon those who would defy them.  "We will provide both strategic counsel to you and full military commitment - both on the ground and in the skies - to this war.  Are such terms acceptable?"

---

<Planet Aerath, Collective capital city of Acheron, Garden of the Curator>

The Garden stuck out like a sore thumb to anyone who viewed it - compared to the rest of the architecture, all in dull golds and intricate geometric patterns, with floating bridges, holograms, and numerous electrical signals, the Garden stood out due to two things.  For one, it was dull, grey metal - a very utilitarian and simplistic design, when compared to the rest of the city.  The second thing, however, was much more notable.

The structure was enormous, taking up a miles-long circular swath of the city, and even then it was tall - not as tall one of the high-rising skyscrapers, certainly, but at least half that, completely opaque from all sides.

As Madonna entered the building, she would be scanned by a green light before the doors would open - and even then, once in the featureless, grey antechamber, she would be meticulously cleaned and disinfected - before being sent through to the interior.

It was a well-known fact that Aerath was completely devoid of organic life, the great hubris of Eridanus having destroyed it with their virulent artificial disease.  Nothing - be it animal, plant, fungus, even bacterium, lived upon this world, so perfectly sterile was it.

Yet within the dome known as the Garden of the Collector, one would find their feet crunching in grasses, real, organic grasses - not synthetic copies, the smell gave such an indication.  All around Madonna, wondrous plants, animals, and other organisms teemed - all imported from other planets.  There one might see the lovely red ferns of Virel IV, wiped out when Virel IV's climate grew too cold for the fern to grow.  There, one might see the great, iridescent violet wurms of Iressia, long ago hunted to extinction by the drow when the Deep One used those majestic creatures to expand his own vile brood.  There, one could look utrp to the beautiful, artificial skies of the Garden, and see the sharp-feathered arrowhawks of Tytos, hunted for their feathers til eventually, the species went extinct.
Indeed, the one factor that all species within the Garden shared was the fact that, on their home planets, all were extinct.

When Madonna stepped forth, she would find a light shining beneath her, a disc of solid light carrying her off the floor - no, the ground?  Such a distinction had little meaning in this place of artificially preserved life.  For yes, everywhere one looked, one would see the tiny robotic servitors nourishing the beasts, maintaining the conditions of the place - quarantining, and euthanizing, any animal who contracted something too deadly to the rest of the populace, and disposing of any waste that could not return to the ecosystem.  Madonna would be whisked past all these wonders, towards a terminal in the very center of the Garden, in the same gold-and-green design as the rest of the usual Collective architecture.  It was set apart from the rest of this artificial ecosystem, on a raised platform at the top of a hill, a place where the animals usually kept far away from.  As Saint Blank's android stepped off the disc, a hologram appeared before her, from the terminal.  A poised, elegant figure of indeterminate gender, wrapped in a great green cloak, concealing the occupant's face, appeared.  "Hello," the figure said, in a measured, crisp voice.  "I am the artificial intelligence designated to preserve the life on Aerath, and the founder of the Asimov Collective, known as the Curator, and I welcome you, facet of the Saint Blank known as Madonna, to my garden."  The figure - the representation of the Curator - dipped into a low bow.

"I am sure you are wondering why I have asked to meet you, Blank, but it relates to the life I have gathered here."  Though the figure's face was shrouded, one could glean the impression that if one pulled the hood back, the face beneath would be smiling.  "You fascinate me, Saint Blank.  Far from one like me - an artificial intelligence deliberately created and thus far from irreplaceable, you are a completely unique existence unto yourself."  The figure leaned forward, as if trying to examine the Madonna's body.  "And I wish to learn more about you."

< The Shadow Enclave >

In some far away corner of the galaxy, there existed a small cluster of systems, possessed of not even a single star between them. This was a realm of impermeable shadow, its worlds pulled taut in their orbits by a ring of decaying gravitational singularities, the blue glow of their Cherenkov auras forming the only light source for light years around. Legends told that this silent realm once belonged to the Drow; others, that it was the domain of the Deep One himself. But they were merely legends.

Only one civilization now lay claim to this forgotten Babylon.

Amidst all that was left of the folly of some ancient race - a wealth of unattended pyramids, vast temples honouring gods unknown to any recent praise nor worship, and rings of slender obelisks standing tall to mark some long distant sun - lay the last worldly city known to breath. Four sleek, black pyramids marked the corners of her walls, which ran between them as a token defence against a non-existent exterior threat. Her size was such that she might lay host to five thousand; a number just under half that called it their home. Brutalist architecture lined her gridded streets; slick black monoliths stood in perfect symmetry either side of the central highway which ran from the city gates to the Arch-Curate's palace, all glimmering faintly in the weak blue glow that underlit the city's streets, providing some notable substitution for the absent sunlight. The palace itself was the largest structure in the city; a pyramid, with four obelisks rising from its corners, forming the main focus of the city's otherwise absent skyline.

All this stood in consummate silence, until the the low hum of a cruiser descending from orbit roused the city's inhabitants from their slumber. It set down in the courtyard of the palace, on a black plinth allocated specifically for such an eventuality. The palace guard, dressed in robes of the highest extravagance their race could permit, were already kneeling in preparation on either side of the berth into which the ship's loading ramp now unfolded. The ship's guard compliment marched out silently, their gunstaves held high as they took up positions alongside the palace guard, kneeling in unison with them. For a moment, the entire courtyard fell back into its usual stillness, before a single figure emerged from the haze of the cruiser's interior. She was, like her subjects, dressed in all black - a loose-fitting, sleeveless kimono-style garment worn over her chest, which came to her mid thigh, under which she wore a skintight black undershirt and a pair of baggy, loose-fitting pants tucked into knee-high combat-style boots. Over this she wore a hooded black poncho, which covered her entire upper half, save for her forearms. As she stepped out from under the ship, she pulled her hood down from her head, revealing her face. She came to a halt halfway between the ship and the palace, folding her arms.

"Where is the Arch-Curate?" she asked, to no-one in particular. The guardsman nearest to her stood up, yet he still dare not lay eyes upon her.

"He has not yet returned from his pilgrimage, my lord."

Arc Kadmon frowned. Would that he returned from his appointments with the same urgency he sent me on mine, she thought, before continuing into the palace. Two of the palace guard stood up as she passed them, and followed her into the palace. After a few minutes of navigating its labyrinthine interior, she arrived in the Arch-Curate's throne room. It was a vast circular hall, lined with black, monolithic pillars, its throne set high upon a huge dais the size of a temple; the dais itself was host to the Arch-Curate's inner sanctum, where even she would not be permitted. Dismissing the guards, she made her way to the giant circular holopad in the middle of the throne room, and knelt before it.

An image of Kanos Jai appeared before her, towering over his young apprentice. She stood, looking up at him, and slid her hands into her pockets.

"...Have I ever told you that you have a bad habit of doing that?" asked Kanos, his suprisingly scholarly voice heavily augmented by the robotic tones of his rebreather. Kadmon's red eyes met the black gloss of Kanos's visor, as she smirked.

"It's not the only bad habit I inherited from my mother."

"I had noticed." he said, his tone humorless. "Have you retrieved the Glass of Ages?"

"It's ours. King Heracleon didn't put up much of a fight."

"But you did spare him?"

"Of course." she replied, her brow twinging. How dare he question my competence...

"Good." he said, visibly adjusting one of the mechanical interfaces on his forearm armor. "Bring the Glass of Ages here, to Byron. It's time for us to fight alongside one another once again."

A grin materialized on her face. "Have you found us a new opponent?"

"I feel many shall arise over the course of this coming storm." he replied.  "My actions here have already set the stage for the greatest cycle of revenge this galaxy has seen in decades; all that is left is for us to fan the flames."

"It shall be done." she replied, bowing her head, before turning away to leave the throne room. Kanos watched his young apprentice leave, before disconnecting the communications feed. He walked out from the burned-out ruins of Shiv's temple, and climbed into his ship, which had landed in the courtyard. It lifted away from the city, flying upwards into the atmosphere, and cloaking.

<Kara's Ship>

One of the fighters was struck by Kara and Jorten's laser fire, and spiralled out of control before exploding. The others passed Kara's ship by, and came back around for another attack run, targeting the railgun.


"Afraid not." said Aster. "We left all that stuff back on the planet."

<Kara's Ship>

Jorten continued shooting at the fighters, hoping to repel them before they destroyed his railgun. The damage was already visible on a nearby screen.

Cassandra Cromwell cursed, and ran to Kara.

Cassandra Cromwell: "Where are the bombs?!"

Suddenly, a whopping sound was heard in the comms of all ships present. A run-down star freighter appeared, looking at least 3 decades old.

Izzy Kandar: *over comms* "WHO'S FIGHTIN' WHO?!"

He began to fire at both the fighters and Kara, hoping that at least one of them would identify themselves before he could destroy them.

---

<Mining Facility>

A civilian in one of the cages began to scream wildly in delirium. Spasms overtook her, and she tried clawing at one of the nearby soldiers. Suddenly, she vomited a black substance. In two other cages, other civilians began to experience the same symptoms. They wailed and attacked their fellow Mogoch-tesai, spreading the infection. Vomit spilled out of cages, infecting anyone it came into contact with. Only 1 cage was left unaffected by the spreading ailment and mass panic. The first woman who began exhibiting symptoms dropped to the floor of the cage, dead. A Tesari soldier suddenly realized that he had black substance all over his vest. It would only be a matter of time before it would spread to other people in the facility.

One of the Mogoch-tesai soldiers stationed nearby looked up at a sign. "QUARANTINE: BLACK SKULL PLAGUE NEARBY," it said.

---

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Zavtich stood up, his golden eyes rising in the darkness. Ulaa heard him stepping towards her, glimpses of his form occasionally appearing as he passed by the glowing blue lines. One would likely be filled with dread at the moment, as one would expect a grotesque monster to appear after such suspense. But anyone who had this fear would find it to be unfounded. Zavtich finally stood in front of the window that acted as one of the only sources of light in the throne room. Ulaa could see an incredibly tall man wearing black and dark blue robes and tunics. His face appeared to be human, adorned with neat, jet black hair; however, something was strangely...off. Zavtich smiled, confirming this feeling.

Zavtich: "Here I thought you would never make such a request. Clan Mogoch-tesai accepts. A new friend shall join us, Ulaa. They will assist us in our offensive against the Tesari menace."

[ Castle Mogoch-Tesai, Byron ]

The multi-purpose landing pads of Castle Mogoch-Tesai are a recent addition to the Mogoch-Tesai seat of government, built to facilitate the convenient transportation of high-ranking officials, diplomats and other such VIPs. Currently, however, the landing pads are a hive of activity as various supplies and a trio of large, tarp-covered vehicles are currently being unloaded by Mogoch-Tesai ground crew from a small group of shuttles just recently arrived. Forming a perimeter around the landing area, a group of armoured soldiers stood on high alert, ready to act at the slightest hint of trouble.

-------

[ Throne Room, Castle Mogoch-Tesai, Byron ]

The doors to the castle's throne room creaked open as in stepped a man, clad in armour similar to the soldiers that arrived with the shuttles, though with markings that denote him as a high-ranking officer. The newcomer, flanked by a couple of menacing saurian-like figures clad in crimson armour, calmly walked up to Zavtich, before standing at attention and bringing his hand up in a crisp military salute, an action mirrored by his Satakar bodyguards.

"Major Garat, at your service. Representative of Atlas Galactic Security and the Atlas Corporation to His Majesty Emperor Zavtich Mogoch-Tesai, future ruler of the United Byronite Throne."

< Kara's ship >

Cutting off the comms, Kara rolled the ship, bringing the under-mounted railgun out of the fighters' line of fire. She turned to Cassandra, an incredulous expression on her face.

"You want to use bombs? Against fighters? Are you entirely off your fucking-"

She was cut off by a huge explosion which rocked the ship, temporarily cutting out the lights. When they returned, Kara saw that the railgun had been blown clear of the underside of the hull.

"Fucknuggets!" she roared, switching back to the quad-mounted turbolasers affixed to the fore of the ship. She fired, but they were useless against the heavy shielding of the attacking cruiser. She flew low over the surface of its hull, trying to avoid being targeted by the cruiser's own weapons. "The floor compartment Eira and Jeb were hiding in - check in there!" she roared, momentarily looking back to Cassandra. "You can access the magazine rack for the railgun from there - those explosive rounds are useless to me now, but they might be what you're looking for!" she added, before darting out from underneath the hull of the cruiser, catching Izzy's ship by surprise and tearing into it with her turbolasers. "Make it quick though - once the hyperdrive's charged, we're out of here, bombs or no bombs!"

[ In-setting posts remaining until Hyperdrive activates: 3 ]

< Byron >

Rickard kicked down the door, and stepped out of the mining complex. The sound of gunshots filled his ears as he saw dozens of zombie-like people running around, fighting the Gotti soldiers. Three Wisemen stepped out of the building, sliding dual pistols from his longcoat and taking down two infected soldiers that were running towards them. At this, the Gotti forces saw Rickard and Wisemen escaping with Gommel, and fired on the group. Gommel called on them to cease fire but they were frenzied, firing on anything that moved. They took cover behind a tank.

"Is this some Mogoch-Tesai biological weapon?" asked Wisemen, reloading his guns. Gommel peered over the tank, looking at the ghouls with horror.

"I do not think even Zavitch would stoop to this." replied the General, readying his service pistol to defend himself.

The trio burst out from behind the tank, spraying cover fire towards a group of soldiers holed up in a nearby watchtower. Two Gotti troopers closed in on Rickard; Ison turned, firing at the lead trooper, who fell to the ground. The second trooper sunk low, pulling his friend into cover, and cradling him. It was too late for the soldier; he reached his hand up, running it across his friend's face, smearing it with blood. And then him and death were brothers.

The surviving soldier began to panic, hyperventilating. He pulled his helmet off, sweat dripping down his face. I was born to do one thing, he thought, recalling his days of working in an EB Games store in the Tesari capital. But I've got nothing left to woah for. he said, before turning, realizing he was surrounded by hungry ghouls. A grin formed on his face. No, I do have one thing left to woah for, he thought, picking up a stun baton from one of the fallen Gotti troopers and spinning it menacingly.

"Woah, hey guys. Welcome to your worst fucking nightmare!"

Meanwhile, Rickard and Co. had fought their way to the Helipad, which was swarming with Gotti troops. The troops that were loyal to Heller had thrown Gommel's loyal troops into the cages, where they had turned into ghouls, and then fortified their position at the Helipad where Gommel's Jebtroopers would arrive to extract them. Rickard's group was pinned down by heavy machine-gun fire, trapped behind a burned-out tank. Suddenly, a blaring alarm sounded from the facility's speakers, temporarily blocking out the sounds of the gunfire.

"What the bloody hell is that?" inquired Wisemen, covering his ears.

A look of fear took hold of Gommel's face. "The WMD proximity alarm... It was installed during the Cold War! Don't tell me Zavitch is seriously planning on-"

"It's not Zavitch!" interrupted Rickard, checking his wrist-mounted information display. "Something's approaching from the Lunar Surface - fast!"

"The Lunar Surfa----"

The entire west wing of the facility was engulfed in a tremendous blast of light, which would be visible from both the Tesari and Mogoch-Tesai capitals. The forces at the helipad - the point of impact - were instantly disintegrated, and Rickard's group were blown clear back, Wisemen being killed instantly when he was thrown into a chair that wasn't there before. Rickard rolled across the ground like a piece of debris, a fierce gale rushing across the surface, throwing cars and tanks high into the air. And then came the sound of the explosion, as if an afterthought - a deafening wail like a woman's scream, which shattered every piece of glass in a ten kilometre radius.

When the ringing in his ears subsided, Rickard looked up. A crater sat where the helipad once was, a single object standing in the middle of it. Looking up, he could see a cloaked figure descending towards it. She wrapped her right hand around the haft of the spear, pulling it from the ground. With her free hand, she pulled her hood from her head. She looked to Rickard, a faint smirk appearing on her face.

"Oh. I didn't realize you'd be here."

With that, Kadmon turned, throwing the Lance clean through Gommel's chest. He fell to the ground, instantly dead, as Kadmon telekinetically slid her weapon back out from his body, pulling it back towards her. Rickard fell to his knees, gasping in horror. Kadmon took back her weapon, shaking the blood off the blade of it.

"When they ask you how this war started, tell them that-"

"Tell them your bloody self." interrupted a voice from behind Arc Kadmon. She turned, teleporting out the way just in time to avoid the brunt of a laser bazooka shot aimed straight for her. In impacted the side of the crater in her absence, throwing a cloud of dust and debris high into the air. When it cleared, Rickard could see a silhouetted figure standing on the rear edge of the crater, cradling the bazooka under their arm.

"Who are you?" he asked, weakly. The figure dropped the bazooka to the ground, before replying.

"The name's Clearwater." he said, lighting a cigarette. "Creedence Clearwater. And if you want to get out of here before the Tesari army arrives..." he said, taking a draw. "...Then I suppose I'm an absolute bloody lifesaver."

---

< Tesari/Mogoch-Tesai border >

the entire tesari army and illegally invading mogoch-tesai lands became brothers

---

< Meanwhile in the compound >

EB-2187 finished killing the ghouls, and tried to regroup with his fellow Gotti soldiers. However, he discovered a group of priests had arrived and begun to kill the ghouls. They even tried to target him, so he ran inside, locking the door. A priest ran in and kicked the door down, stepping inside. In the dim light he could see this priest was extra suspicious.

"Woah, Hey priest."

"Rejoice, shounen. Something came in the mail today." said Gottimine Gottei, readying some black keys.

"Roger that." replied EB-2187, gulping.

<Throne Room, Castle Mogoch-Tesai, Byron>

Zavtich: "Salutations, Major Garat. I am pleased to see that the Atlas Corporation is interested in Byronite affairs. What, pray tell, are you offering us?"

Zavtich seemed to twitch slightly after saying this, his smile curling awkwardly. Ulaa could tell something was very different about Zavtich compared to other Byronites, and other humans in general.

---

<Kara's ship>

A sane person would pull away and regroup after being damaged by enemy fire. Izzy Kandar was not sane. He pulled up as the rounds hit the bottom of his vessel, some piercing through the shields and hitting his hull.

Izzy Kandar: "It must be Christmas, because I get to punch all of them!"

He activated the cloaking feature of the spacecraft, causing it to shimmer out of sight. He quickly dressed himself in a spacesuit and jet pack to rocket to Malychar's ship.

Cassandra smirked, and darted to the location that Kara had indicated to her. She grabbed a couple of railgun rounds, something one would perceive to be a marvel for someone of her strength. She placed several remote control maglevs that were standard issue for ATI guards, and suited up in a space suit. Cassandra opened the airlock, quietly astonished that such a contrived BS excuse of an attack could be possible. Now in space, Cromwell grabbed onto part of Malychar's ship and flung the rounds into space. She used a small device in her hands to control their trajectory, slowly forcing them to spin towards two of the incoming fighters. Suddenly, Izzy Kandar jet packed into the ship's opening. She quickly followed the assailant, confronting him in safer ground after passing through the airlock.

Cassandra: "Who are you?!"

Izzy Kandar: "Cassandra? Cassandra Cromwell?! This is so convenient it's my lucky day!"

He pulled out a laser pistol, and fired it at Cromwell. She reeled towards a storage crate, pulling out her own weapon to return fire.

--

Jorten kept firing at the fighters when he noticed a few railgun rounds chasing them

Jorten: "dafuq"

---

<Byronite Mines>

A small drone flew away from the commotion, having observed everything that had occurred, even the situation with Arc Kadmon and EB-2187.

The garrison of soldiers that formed near the compound noticed an infected rushing towards them, screaming and wailing. The colonel present did not hesitate, and immediately shot it to death. The drone slowly approached him, and landed on his glove, transmitting information to colonel. He transmitted this information to Mogoch-tesai Army Intelligence, which transmitted it to a Tuvar’nloq agent light-years away (one so sworn to secrecy that she carried a cyanide pill in a fake tooth, ready to be swallowed) that in turn sent it to the datapad of none other than Melchais Apolion himself, who was now far from Micho.

The data read as follows:

“NOT AIRBORNE, BUT RAPID INFECTION RATE. UNIDENTIFIED PERSONS OF INTEREST PRESENT. TEST: SUCCESSFUL.”

Apolion smirked, and made a mental note to himself to share this data with those involved in the project.

OOS: Waiting on Paws and DRJ for the rest.

< Garden of the Curator >

Madonna tilted its head in some gesture of bemusement, but the movement was lost within the folds of cloth that hooded the Android. It peered about the garden, turning its body somewhat awkwardly to accommodate the surveillance, before it turned poignantly back toward the projection of the Curator. "Your existence is of equal interest to Saint Blank. The level of technology that the Asimov Collective have achieved is of great interest to Saint Blank; it might be noted that our means of production are somewhat limited," the Android gestured self referentially, pausing briefly. "Saint Blank is primarily concerned with the manifestation of the self in corporeal form... it would seem that in creating the life around us," Madonna swept its hand wide, "that 'you' have similar stake in such a pursuit, to at least to some degree." Madonna began a slow walk around the garden, seemingly lost in thought. The Android walked for a matter of minutes before coming to a halt and addressing the Curator again. "I would like to convey, however, that Saint Blank is not a being to be studied. There are things that we know, things that Saint Blank knows, that will remain with us until termination. Despite this, we would be willing to... collaborate... with the Asimov Collective on most any venture, given proper recompense."

----------------

< Damocleon >

Agamemnon cast one look back at the sands rushing and warping around the tombs that were his childhood home, before climbing up the access ramp into the golden hull of a solar sailer. The craft was a triplet of pods that meshed with each other, with masts extending from both sides. Currently, the sails were furled and tucked away against the masts, but unfurled, they would, combined with the sandtime engine, allow FTL travel for Agamemnon and the three other knights in the craft.

Departure from the planet went smoothly, and with the sun glinting from the tips of the masts, the solar sailer jumped to warp.

----------------

< Undisclosed Location, Byron >

Damien sat bolt upright, bewildered. Someone was screaming - no wait singing - Would you FUCK OFF with that singing! - "Wou-" he croaked, before realising his mouth and throat felt like he'd done 10 Sarabad Death Shots the night before - Did I do Sarabad Death Shots last night? He flailed around momentarily, tearing the thin blanket from his body; he realised slowly that he was still clothed underneath, black slacks and a (now stained) white dress shirt. He swung his legs from the bed - no, couch - and reached for a glass on the table, but it was empty. Damien looked about, taking in his surroundings properly. He was in the drawing room - that is, the third drawing room. The singing, he realised, was coming from the stereo, so Damien waved his arms about until the motions he made resembled something to the AI like "turn that shit off". As Ryan Paris' Dolce Vita faded into silence, Damien became stunningly aware of the massive headache at the fringes of his still-inebriation. He stood, wobbling on his feet (one of which was shod, the other bare) and hobbled to a bathroom. Opening the cupboard revealed clinical rows of pills and potions; Damien hamfistedly searched for "Hangover Cure", and popping two pills into his mouth, stripped down and climbed into the shower. AS the water cascaded around him, he fell into that sort of drunken stupor one does when no active thought preoccupies the mind, and nothing shook him from his reverie until a voice beckoned from outside the bathroom.

"Damien? Damien!? DAMIEN!? Daaaamien? Damien answer me!"

Damien recognised the voice as female, which is to say he barely recognised it at all past that fact. Damien grunted affirmation until the shouting stopped, and, toweling himself dry, swung the door to the bathroom open, a gust of steam billowing into the face of the girl who stood outside. She waved a hand in front of her face before covering it with a gasp; Damien stood completely naked, the towel slung about his neck. The girl squeaked and yanked the towel down, and Damien rolled his eyes.

"Damien COVER UP! Oh my god I did not need to see that first thing in the morning! Do you realise what time it is? My father is going to be livid that I'm not ba-"

"Then go," Damien said bluntly, before pushing past the girl and entering the lower master bedroom. The girl let out a disgruntled squeak before being shepherded away by what Damien assumed was staff. He swung open a closet and was confronted with a waterfall of silk, a sea of denim and a whirlpool of cotton. The closet stretched on for an unimaginable distance, and any impartial viewer would have said that Damien had "too many clothes". This didn't stop Damien buying more; Staff had recently knocked the 4th drawing room into the closet to make more space. Damien pulled on simple black jeans and a black t-shirt, over which he pulled on a black bomber jacket. He plucked a pair of Ray-Bans from a shelf and slid them onto his face, before checking himself out in the mirror. He was of middling height, effortlessly muscular build, pale complexion. Most would remark that he was extraordinarily beautiful, served by a shock of silver-blonde hair that naturally quiffed about his square, baby like face. He stepped from the closet and out into the hall, where his manservant, Hang, was waiting with a compad.

"Master Damien, will you go ahead with tonight's white party? Last night's escapades got somewhat... out of hand, what with your stunt and the Lamborghini."

Damien glanced gravely at Hang before breaking into a grin. "You know I don't care about material things Hang... and yeah, tonight's a must. The Xia family are coming, and they said they'd show me some prototype or other that Huey's been working on. Should be a laugh." Damien strode from the double doors of the manse and onto the veranda, where he could see the staff clearing the 'escapades' of last night, and were already setting up the myriad white pavilions for that night's party.

For all intents and purposes, Damien Dalton was a happy man.

<Aerath, Acheron, Garden of the Curator>

The hologram nodded. "Of course. Due to Saint Blank's intelligence, we would not do anything that it itself would specifically ask us not to do." The figure leaned forward, its hands steepled, as if leaning against something invisible. "Now then, Madonna, avatar of Saint Blank, though you have now met me in person, I would much like to meet the central computer of Saint Blank - after all, if the two of us are to be partners, there must be transparency between us." The figure leaned back. "Regardless, even if I cannot study you, I still wish to aid you - particularly in, as you so quaintly put it, 'the manifestation of the self in the corporeal form,' I mean, of course, that we could contribute the facilities and machine-power that would aid in the construction of more of your Androids, if, of course, you provide us with the schematics." The figure smiled behind its hood. "Would that be acceptable compensation?"

-----

<Kara's Ship>

Eira grinned, another fighter spinning out of control as another well-placed shot from the main cannon pierced the cockpit. It took a second to get used to it, and the handling was still incredible shoddy, but she was making do, firing a second shot. "Oi, Kara!" she shouted, as if she was a full member of the crew, rather than a stowaway caught in a crossfire. "How long until that hyperdrive is up? I can only take out so many of them before they close!"

----

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Ulaa smiled pleasantly at the newcomer. "Hello, Major Garat. A bold introduction, to be sure." Her smile turned into a wry smirk. "You may call me Ulaa. I am the primary interface between the Asimov Collective and a number of organic civilizations, and I have no doubt that we will be working closely in the upcoming war. Regrettably, due to the distance, it will be a full day before the main fleet of the Collective arrives - as such, we would do best to prepare our defenses. Particularly as the Tesari troops are already invading." Garat's presence here, thankfully, offered Ulaa a chance to avert her eyes from Emperor Zavitch. Deep within her circuits, something about his presence deeply unnerved her. Whatever he was, he clearly was not the same species as the other organics on-world.

< Certus Quartz Temple >

Kadmon rematerialized on the upper platform of Kanos's refuge, falling to her knees as she did. She doubled over, coughing up a wad of blood into her hand. Clenching it into a fist, she stood up, looking up to see Kanos Jai standing on the edge of the platform, observing the radiant sunset in the distance. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes still fixed on the back of his head.

"Defeat so easily? I'd expect more from an Arc."

She grimaced. "He got the drop on me."

"I know you're not satisfied with that answer."

She frowned. "I... I'm the daughter of a God. I was born to unite the galaxy through sword and flame... but I feel so powerless." she replied, clenching her teeth. "My mother could create or destroy entire worlds just by thinking about it - but what do I have to show for being the inheritor of that legacy? I thought killing her would mark the moment I truly surpassed her, but... all it made me feel was hollow."

"Arcs are, by definition, hollow." replied Kanos, turning to her. "We exist beyond the continuum of revenge, that no recourse might exist for us through following that path. Champion this fact. Make it your shield." he added, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, and could feel the cold gaze of his eyes through the opaque visor of his helmet. "It is our duty to perpetuate the cycle of revenge, even though that same cycle has failed us. The hollowness of our own existences reminds us of the ennui that we spare this galaxy through our philanthropy."

Kadmon pushed Kanos's hand off her shoulder, and stepped past him, out to the edge of the platform which overlooked the sunset.

"Then teach me all you know. If it means surpassing Sefer Yetzirah, then I'll gladly drown this entire galaxy in blood." she added, turning back to him, her brow furrowed. "Give me that power, Blair."

Under his helmet, Kanos smirked. He reached up, a faint hiss sounding as the hermetic seals on his armor disengaged, and he pulled his helmet free from his head. Locks of black hair rolled out over his shoulders, and he opened his eyes, looking out at the world without the assistance of his helmet for the first time in months. His face has not the brutal, ugly face many imagined the notorious bounty hunter to possess; by contrast, he was possessed of immense beauty, with fine, lordly features, long raven hair slicked back over his head, and piercing eyes of the purest white. His skin was a pale white, and with the proportions of his body no longer obscured by his helmet it became apparent how tall he was, with slender, elf-like proportions. He stepped towards her, looking out at the sunset with her from the edge of the platform.

"In time, my young apprentice. Byron shall only be be start. In the flames of this war we shall reveal ourselves to the galaxy, and from then on the dominance of the Kanos Jai shall be assured." said Arc Blair, looking down to Kadmon. "Many shall flock to our ideology - More still shall fall at our hands, but in the end the result shall be the same. A new order shall rise from the ashes of this world. And this time, Sefer won't be around to wipe the slate clean when we finally win." he added, grinning elatedly.

---

< Kara's Ship >

"Here we... Here we... Here we fucking go!" shouted Kara, as she pushed forward on the hyperdrive throttle. The ship warped out the second in an instant, reappearing above Byron before most of the ship's occupants had any chance to process what had just happened. The danger wasn't over, however; Kara rapidly pulled up on the control lever, narrowly avoiding a slab of ship armor floating above the planet. She realized she was in a debris field, and looked around to ascertain the source of it, when she saw the Asimov ship holding in orbit above the Mogoch-Tesai capital. She grimaced as she saw the damage to the other ship's hull. We're too damn late, she thought. Kanos Jai is already here.

Perhaps if she had been paying less attention to the ship in the distance, she would have noticed the huge hull fragment which tore into the underside of the ship, triggering a huge explosion in the vehicle's engines. It shot forward, propelled by the explosion, but Kara's attempts to regain control of the vessel were in vain. The reactor had shut down, and now the ship was hurtling towards the planet below. Gritting her teeth, she strapped herself in, calling towards the rest of the ship's occupants to do the same.

---

< Goti Desert, Tesari/Mogoch-Tesai Border Region, an hour later >

Kara climbed out of the wreck of the ship, which lay half-buried in the desert sand. She fell to the ground, rolling onto her back, and gazed blankly at the sun high above.

Meanwhile, some Gotti scouts concealed in a nearby dune relayed the ship's location to the rest of the Tesari forces...

<Byron, Castle Mogoch-Tesai>

Zavtich: "The Asimov Collective's assistance is appreciated. Major Garat, I have a task for your forces, one that will give your corporation a bonus. It would behoove you to consider it a test of your forces. How soon are you able to secure the town of Culhwch near the Goti desert from invading Tesari forces?"

---

<Goti Desert, Tesari/Mogoch-Tesai Border Region>

Jorten Karzdus cursed as he undid his restraints and crawled out of the damaged turret. He heard a whirring sound from afar, and shouted the names of his fellow crew members. He entered the ship from the back, and found Cassandra on the floor, grunting in pain.

Jorten: "Cassandra! Are you alright? Your leg..."

Cassandra Cromwell: "I'm fine, just a few bruises."

He secretly scanned her bruises with his eyes, noting a silver gash on her knee and realizing something was off. Jorten hid his suspicion, and went along with the conversation.

Jorten: "I take it you restrained yourself before we jumped."

Cromwell coughed.

Cassandra Cromwell: "I did...ugh. You should see the other guy. That maniac that came out of nowhere sneaked onto our ship."

Jorten immediately reached into his holster and pulled out his pistol, readying himself for a possible confrontation. He twisted back upon hearing Izzy Kandar whistling, and pointed his gun at him. Though the bounty hunter was wearing protective gear (and was a member of a species with strong, durable spines), he was hurt. Apparently, he had emerged from the wreckage a minute prior to Jorten's arrival, and was whistling into a special device to call his ship to Byron.

Kandar turned around, and pulled out his own weapon. The armed men slowly circled around in a standoff.

Jorten: "One desert to another, and yet another standoff. SSDP."

Kandar: "Just give up the girl, pal. Cassandra Cromwell's a wanted woman!"

Jorten: "Everyone on this ship is a Wanted Man™, especially me. You'd score a lot of money by capturing our killing us."

Kandar: "Really now?"

Jorten: "But I think it's in your best interest to leave. You've two choices after all: money or life."

Izzy Kandar: "Aww, hell, I don't want to kill you! You seem like a fun group! 'sandra's mine, is all."

Jorten: "Over my dead body."

The two failed to notice a series of trinkets scattered along the floor nearby.

< Goti Desert >

Rickard and Clearwater drove across the desert in a 4x4 Clearwater had stolen from the Gotti at the mining facility. Rickard scanned the nearby dunes for signs of life, but they were the only living things for as far as the eye could see.

"You Asved my life back there." Said Rickard, adjusting the scope on his rifle. "But I still don't know who you are."

"I was a soldier in Duke Khaled's army. When word spread of the Tesari's hostility, the Duke mobilized his finest steel to defend the Mogoch-Tesai. I was in the third helicopter army, sent to enforce the border around the mining facility - we knew Shiv would scarcely strike anywhere else. We flew in low over the Goti desert - Tesari anti-air has always been a pitiful affair - when a vast barrage of lasers caught us unaware. Twas a slaughter."

"Lasers?"

Creedence nodded. "Lasers provided by the Dantos Col, of the Vyandrir Clan. I was one of the few survivors... when I awoke, it was already too lay. The Khaled clan... mine own dukedom lay in ruins, having been invaded by the Vyandrir. And even now, Ice King Slane's nephew, Lord Bale, has been appointed the new Emperor of the Tesari, merely hours after Deezler's death... even Heller hasn't objected to this farce."

Rickard sunk down into his seat. "Have you got a plan?"

"We'll head for the Mogoch-Tesai capital. I have a feeling the secrets of this war will be revealed at that location."

---

< Tesari Capital >

Gottei placed the Tesari crown down onto Lord Bale's head, and smiled.

"Rise, Lord Bale."

The blue skinned man stood up, and turned to the large crowd behind him. It exploded into cheer as the audience revelled at the sight of their new Emperor, a welcome sight after the death of Shiv and the interim rule of Deezler which followed. Most prominent in the crowd were those of the Dantos Col race, also known as the ice warriors of Vyandrir, who had always been an ethnic minority in Tesari lands. That one of their own was now the ruler of those lands brought them great joy, as did the increasing number of Dantosian volunteers who had crossed the border from Vyandrir to bolster the ranks of the Tesari army - though many suspected that they were merely soldiers sent by Bale's uncle, Ice King Slane.

"Rejoice, my people." said Lord Bale, who looked suspiciously like a blue-skinned Timothy Dalton. "The time of universal peace is at hand. Even as I speak, our brave brothers-in-arms in the Vyrandrir clan are wiping Khaledian lands free of the plague of human interference. Now all that remains is one swift, sharp strike at the heart of the Mogoch-Tesai to carve the source of this infestation out from our land! We shall bring Zavitch to justice for diluting the pure and noble blood of Byron!" he said, throwing his fist into the air. "For a pure and blue world!"

"For a pure and blue world!" replied the audience, chanting. "For a pure and blue world! For a pure and blue world!" they continued, as Lord Bale knelt, teleporting aboard the massive Dantos Col aircraft carrier covering above the city. He sat down in the captain's chair, looking over to Arc Kadmon, who stood in the corner of the bridge, her arms folded, and most of her face concealed beneath her hood. She gave a slow nod of approval, before Lord Bale turned back to the viewscreen, pointing forwards.

"Onwards to their capital!"

"Yes, my lord." replied the crew of the Jormungandr. The chief navigational officer turned to Lord Bale. "Three hours to our destination, my lord."

"Good, good." replied Lord Bale, steepling his hands.  

< Goti Desert >

Kara sat up, looked around, and laid back down again.

<Megacity of New Constantinople, Algiers-5>
Pippin had a look of complete shock on his face as he examined the photo of himself held by the detective. He hadn't done anything wrong aside from getting fired; as far as he knew, this guy could have been working for one of the organised crime rings, or his land-lady. Regardless, he couldn't just sit there and ignore him. Shaking his head, the gryphon hopped down from his barstool and walked towards the door, glancing up at the detective with a nervous glint in his eyes.

"Hei tlaciwth-lin, ânk wân wokei-add?" he asked tentatively, forgetting the fact that most folks down in the slums didn't speak Gwinoddi, barring his fellow gryphons.