BZPB: Resurgence

[ ONV Ban Seed, Asukara system ]

The bridge shook violently as the Malchiorian corvette's attacks landed, jerking the crew about in their acceleration seats. Captain Clarissa Kayode tightly gripped the arm rests of her command chair as the Ban Seed's quad engines readjusted the ship's centre of thrust to account for the damage it had just sustained.

"Main railgun offline!" barked one of the bridge crew; Captain Kayode's eye twitched. A Semovente only had one railgun; specifying that the main railgun was offline was superfluous. She was about to respond with a series of orders when another crewman from the other side of the bridge spoke out. "New radar contact - directly behind us. It's a New Order drive signature, but it's not registering as a friendly."

"Heading?" responded Captain Kayode, confused by the announcement. The crewman turned to face her.

"Directly towards us, Ma'am."

---

[ Unaffiliated Warship Akathama Kimaris (formerly New Order stealth corvette ONV Raptor), Asukara system ]

The bridge of the Kimaris was very much still a work in progress. The majority of the original New Order bridge interface had been stripped out since the ship's capture, replaced with whatever had been on hand at the New Harpenden shipyards; pilot seats that had once been served by panoramic monitors and touch-screen controls were now surrounded by an array of individual flat-screen monitors suspended from the seat's rotating grav-gimbals by mechanical arms; gel interface pools had been replaced by a pair of tactile joysticks serving each seat, as well an array of mechanical keyboards with a single touch-screen interface located between the pilot's legs. Cabling snaked across the floor of the bridge, bolted down to stop it whipping about during high-G maneuvers, facilitating the interface between the aftermarket control suites and the underlying New Order space-frame.

All of this was much more to Magnus Nilmeister's taste than what had been there before. He smirked confidently as he applied gentle pressure to the throttle, guiding the Kimmy in on its terminal burn towards the enemy fleet, and the Narayanastra superweapon behind it. Karl Lindstrom sat beside him in the recessed navigation pit at the fore of the bridge, occupying the co-pilot's seat, and appeared significantly less pleased than his co-worker. He tapped away at his touch-screen interface, designating the Semoventes as hostile targets.

"Captain," began Karl, angling his head to look backwards over his shoulder, "I must again point out the absurdity of charging three enemy battlecruisers at the same time."

"Three enemy battlecruisers with their railguns pointed away from us." came Magnus's correction, before Evangelise had the chance to respond. Captain Ascheron ignored the comment. She sat behind the two men on a semi-raised command dais, with two multi-function control interfaces at either side of her. Around here were four gunnery pits, occupied by Heyerdahl contractors, each of whom managed a specific weapon aboard the ship. With a tap at one of the mechanical keyboards surrounding them, one of these contractors transferred fire control for the ship's railgun to Magnus, who acknowledged it with a thumbs up gesture. A warning klaxon sounded as a swarm of torpedoes manifested on Karl's navigation interface.

"Torpedo launch confirmed - six high yields inbound. I hope you know what you're doing, Magnus."

Magnus grinned. "So do I."

The Kimaris cut its thrusters, turned, and kicked into a full burn, pulling a right angle in space. Out-maneuvering a torpedo is effecitvely impossible; any given torpedo will always have a superior thrust-to-weight ratio than any manned vessel, but at the cost of carrying significantly less fuel. The Kimaris burned hard, angling slightly to force the pursuing torpedoes to burn as much reaction mass as possible; the two torpedoes launched by the Ban Mora flickered out, but the four remaining torpedoes closed in, fanning out to attack the Kimaris from as many angles as possible. Magnus cut the engine, spun, and fired. The Kimaris's railgun lit up the space around it as three mid-velocity rounds shot out of it in quick succession; cobalt streams of light coursed towards two of the pursuing torpedoes, exploding just before them and consuming them in a wave of interceptor scattershot. The remaining torpedoes accelerated to terminal velocity, but by then the Kimaris's side panels had unfurled to reveal its 40mm interceptor point-defense cannons. Streams of tracer fire spun out of them, whipping across the path of the approaching torpedoes and detonating them a harmless distance away from the ship. Without missing a beat, Magnus gunned the throttle, throwing the Kimaris back towards the battle.

"See, Karl, wasn't that fun?" remarked Magnus, grinning. Karl wiped away at his mouth with the back of his hand; the intense acceleration had burst one of the blood vessels in his nose.

"Yes, real fun."

Magnus chuckled. "Come on now - you musn't be afraid to live a little."

The Kimaris launched a salvo of Thunderbolt torpedoes from its rear-facing torpedo tube; they fell behind the rapidly accelerating corvette, before igniting their own motors and almost instantly outpacing the vessel. Streams of interceptor fire shot out from the flotilla of Semoventes - but each stream that was targeting one of the Kimaris's torpedoes, wasn't targeting the Kimaris itself. Magnus cut the engine and spun as the Kimmy passed between the three ships, drifting sideways, firing its railgun directly down the barrel of the Ban Mora's own railgun. The latter ship exploded almost instantly, the explosion rocking the Kimaris, knocking one of Magnus's monitors loose. He accelerated towards the Narayanstra, even as the Kimaris's gunnery crew sent volleys of Thunderbolt torpedoes back towards the remaining Semoventes.

Evangelise wasted no time in opening a comms channel to the mercenary fleet. "All mercenary ships, this is the captain of the independent warship Akathama Kimaris. We are here to render aid and assistance to the effort... and to rescue the prisoner Canaan Jones."

---

[ Narayanastra ]

As the mercenary assault intensified, a Kracian sergeant pulled up a holo-communicator from his vest, crouching behind a bulkhead for cover. The image of Admiral Di-Jonn Massa appeared on it.

"Admiral, the assaulting forces have already captured most of the hangar. We require immediate reinforcement."

Di-Jonn shook his head. "If they've captured that much of the hangar, then I'm afraid that's no longer an option. You know... what to do."

"Admiral!"

He ignored the sergeant's protest. "Long. Live. The New Order."

The holographic projection disappeared. The sergeant took a moment to collect himself, then returned the holo-communicator to its pouch on his vest, before yelling orders to his troops.

"Vent the hangar! Vent the hangar!"

The Kracian warriors made a surge towards the hangar's central control tower, mounted to the back wall, which had already been captured by mercenary forces. Using their jet-packs, they surrounded the tower, threatening to overwhelm it and vent the entire hangar into space.

---

Shepard and Vekhta fought their way through the Kracian resistance, following Blackout's instructions. Two of Blackout's most loyal adherents - a pair of twins named Astra and Zeneca - fought alongside them, using their supernatural powers to possess the bodies of Kracian warriors and New Order marines, turning them against their former comrades. Shepard and Vekhta made their way to an access hatch, which slid open before they got there - PsyCommander Adria stood behind it.

"Leave her to us." instructed Astra, abandoning the body of a New Order marine which crumbled to dust as he left it. Zeneca jumped into the body of a brutish Kracian warrior - a Jomoli clad in crimson plate - and turned the being's machine gun on his own colleagues, before turning to face Adria. Shepard and Vekhta stepped cautiously around Adria as they made their way into the corridor behind her, making their way deeper into the station. Astra licked his blade as he stepped closer to Adria, sizing her up.

"I've never known a PsyTrooper to have a flair for the dramatic."

"There are many things about me that might surprise you, then." retorted Adria, as she drew the Blade of Avalon from around her waist, ignited it, and charged.

---

Aboard the Blacksword, Ben Kovacs tapped into the station's network, working to extract schematics which he then forwarded on to Willis as well as Colonel Hawkes. He watched from his console as Willis worked his way down the access corridor.

---

[ DNS Afternoon News, Tanari Holo-net ]

"...and what he have now is a startling reveal from the Eachan camp, it's a photograph - and I have to preface by saying it hasn't yet been verified - from Morgan Peres's last presidential campaign, which if you'll remember, he was running against Eachan a few years ago. It's from a speech he gave at Karl Clinton University, and he's shaking hands with a young man who does... who does appear to be Khum Williams, who is in prison awaiting trial for the attempted attack on William Douglas Reed's life last week. Now we have to preface by saying - there were hundreds of students in attendance, and this doesn't suggest Khum Williams was working with or for Peres, but you have to admit this looks bad - Agatha, am I right?"

"Absolutely, Dennis, I mean especially given Peres's recent comments saying it was staged or set up. The optics here look really bad. It's obvious Khum Williams was radicalized at some point since the last election but already online posts are claiming Peres had a hand in this - perhaps this meeting, this handshake was a watershed moment for Khum."

"Do we have the transcript of the speech he gave, Agatha?"

"We've reached out to the Jones camp for that, Dennis, and for comment, but nothing yet. This photo is spreading like wildfire - no doubt some blogger or some super-hacker found it and it's circulating all across the web. If this real, it looks really bad. And I bet Jones is - I bet part of him's going to regret getting Peres on the ticket now. After this. And if it's not real then some are saying the damage is already done."

"Thank you, Agatha, and for all those listening at home we'll be bringing you more updates as and when we get them."

<Merc Rendezvous Point>
Yenot sat silently through the meeting, was about to ask about payment before Onyx clarified. Agreeing with the premise that this would both be sufficient pay, and a chance to stick it to the New Order pretty hard. Taking a moment to get the appropriate contracts filled out and signed before embarking on the mission.

----

Hours later, as the assault began, and seeing as he had no ship himself after the events of a sideways contract a few years back, he had ascertained the coordinates required for his entrance. The gem around his neck, though very useful, had limits and requirements. The most important being either first-hand experience with a location, or coordinates for it. Brazenly, he folded himself directly into the bridge of The Narayanastra, kabuki style mask over face and dressed in a black bodysuit of unknown material. Apparently having this on beneath his typical attire and having stripped such away prior. His wicked and curved blade ready in one hand, and assault rifle in the other, he sprayed the area on entrance.

"The Boogie man of the Free Man would like a word with the commander of this station," he declared with his entrance.

-----
<Hy'Dorel, Airspace control tower 42>

"Codes received and confirmed, please proceed and dock at terminal thirteen. Customs will be aboard to inspect yourselves and cargo on arrival. Your compliance is appreciated," the control tower operated droned back, having said a similar sentence fifty times in the last hour alone, and dreading another six on his shift.

<Tanari Prime, Convention Hall>

In a small room backstage, Silver Eachan was scribbling furiously with a red pen on several sheets of paper covered with hand-written notes. He was scheduled to speak once General Van Smoot was done, and Eachan - always inexplicably fond of improvising his speeches with just some basic notes to help him despite that approach going wrong many, many times before - was working out the kinks on the speech that would officially launch his re-election campaign. Once done, he passed them to William Douglas Reed, who was sitting across from him.

“What do you think? I think I’m hitting all the right themes - scary scary Sefer, cooperation with our FSA allies instead of opportunistic xenophobia, that mad Shifter who snuck into the school in Esposito City with a gun, Jones wanting quotas for Shifters and pushing down wages, radicals like Peres and the guy who ‘shot’ at you undermining us from within, some jokes at Jones’ and Aster’s expense, a tip of the hat to Von Budberg fighting the good fight on Yari III… Anything else you think I should add?”


Shae Eachan looked on from backstage as her husband’s new running mate, General Van Smoot, gave his usual bellicose speech on the threat posed by Sefer Yetzirah, and warning of all sorts of enemies within that were just waiting to sabotage their efforts to defend themselves. It was funny - she had suggested Van Smoot as the new running mate, as a way of appeasing the bitter Allmanite remnant, but she did not anticipate her husband deciding to become politically indistinguishable. The lineup and general tone of the speeches had, naturally, been arranged by Reed.

“Hell of a ride, isn’t it?” A voice suddenly came from behind her, scaring her half to death and making her jump. She slowly turned to find it was Vice-President North himself. “Fuck me, Pete. You startled me…”

“Sorry. Although I think that’s what you’re meant to be feeling, watching that.”

“I’m sorry too. It should be you up there. Maybe if it still were, we wouldn’t be heading in this direction.”

“Actually, I think I’m pretty happy not having my name on this slow-motion trainwreck. So really, I suppose I should thank you for providing me with an exit strategy. We all need an exit strategy sometimes. Or even fifty-two of them.”

“Fifty-two?” Shae said, obviously confused.

Peter looked her right in the eyes, so as to make it clear he was being deadly serious about whatever it was he was trying to imply. He surreptitiously handed her a small piece of paper. “Yes. Fifty-two. Remember that, for the future.” Shae nodded, and hid the paper just in time for Silver Eachan to show up, flanked by Reed.

-----

<Tanari Colony>

“I maintain what I said before, I have no connection to that man.” Morgan Peres said as the reporter shoved a mic in his face. “It’s possible I’ve met him, I’ve addressed many crowds. I have the biggest crowds, the best crowds.. And it’s awfully convenient that so much information on this man is already making it to the media, isn’t it? Almost as if it was a setup from the very beginning.” That statement would be aired widely on the holo-net, alongside commentary on a new poll that showed the Jones/Peres ticket losing some support following the controversy, but still retaining a clear lead.


Elsewhere, in front of a large crowd of supporters and many holo-cameras, David Robert Jones stepped up to the podium to give a speech he hoped very much would take some attention away from his running mate.

“My fellow Tanari, today we stand at a crossroads. Sefer Yetzirah’s New Order stands poised to try and erase our culture, our civilisation. The occasion calls for this generation of Tanari to show the best in ourselves. And yet, today we have a government that is unwilling to do what must be done, sells out basic state functions to alien dictators because it is easier, ignores the talents of a solid fifth of our citizens for no reason. This is a time for change. I have always tried to serve our people, as a Senator, as the Voice of the Resistance under the dictatorship, working with this administration to set it right until it became impossible. Now, I want to offer that change.

If I am elected, I will order a review of the Confederation’s defence budget to eliminate waste. Any efficiency savings, as well as the funds raised by raising taxes on those who grew rich under Allman’s regime and who the President protects above all else, will be put, among others, towards an immediate order of three new dreadnoughts from the Yari III shipyards to protect the Confederation against anything the New Order throws at us. I will throw money at our best scientists to invest cutting-edge technology to fight off the New Order threat, and I will increase funding for education so that we never lose that edge. I will also invest in internal security, hiring new police officers and counter-intelligence agents so we are never again put in a position where the Ascheron crime family are quicker to respond to possible threats to our safety than we are.

Within six months of my inauguration, I will introduce a draft bill that will ensure the equal treatment of Shifters throughout the Confederation. So many of them have sacrificed, fighting against the Vrai and Takemikazuchi, keeping our economy going, and yet, through no fault of their own, they are denied the freedoms the rest of us enjoy. All citizens must be treated equally, must be treated well, within our Confederation. The New Order claims to offer perfect equality. But we all know, thanks to those brave few who have managed to escape their tyranny, that their claims ring hollow. It’s time to show Sefer Yetzirah what a people that is truly free can do. And for that matter, I will also raise the cap on the number of refugees the Confederation can accept every year. As members of the FSA, we have obligations to our allies. And what message do we, masters of a score of worlds and countless moons and stations, send out to the rest of the galaxy when we claim to stand opposed to the New Order but make it as hard as we can for those who know better than any of us hopefully ever will what that New Order truly means to live a good life?

Readiness shall be our watchword, readiness to respond to the dangers that await us. Silver Eachan has been sloppy, is becoming sloppier by the day, and Sefer Yetzirah stands at the ready to punish our sloppiness if we don’t clean up our act fast by strengthening our armed forces, our economy, our society and our moral standing.“

-----

<Yari III Orbit>

The ship descending into Yari III’s atmosphere was sleek and angular, its hull painted a deep purple, as was traditional for the species of its owners. Inside, the lights were switched off, with the main sources of light being the faint glow of the controls and the shining, bright orange eyes of the pilot.

The ship’s radio crackled into life. “V-shuttle 45, please proceed along the transmitted flight path. May we ask your purpose of visit?”

“Affirmative, flight control.” The pilot responded slowly, as if he were having to translate his sentences in his head before speaking them aloud. “My purpose is... research.”

“...I see. Thank you, V-shuttle 45.”

The pilot reached forward with his long, six-fingered arm and adjusted the controls, changing the frequency the subspace radio was transmitting on. He began to speak again, this time in his native language. “This is Inquisitor Three to the Office. Repeat, Inquisitor Three to the Office. I have reached Yari. Over.”

“Acknowledged. Good luck, Inquisitor Three. Over.”

-----

[ Malchior, Malchior System ]

Brianna nods politely towards Rusello, exiting the cab to presumably be escorted to her living arrangements during her stay in Malchior, her guards falling into step beside her. Though her face betrayed no emotion save diplomatic serenity, the Xazari envoy is inwardly pleased with the brief interaction, satisfied that her duty for now has been accomplished.

Were Rusello to later scan what presumably appears to be a data storage device as a security measure, he would find hidden in the metadata, encrypted by a variation of the caesar shift cypher, requests for a remote holo meeting tonight with the President Klak himself, the device appearing to act as a secure transmitter back to presumably Xazari space.

-------

[Base Theta, Iotunort]

Blizz just kinds of tilts her head to the side a bit in an incredulous manner at Amzi’x, her mouth opening for second as she starts to say something but snapping it shut as she thinks better of it and merely shrug.

"Sure...whatever your say."

With nothing else to do currently, the faestir gets herself comfortable sat ontop her backpack, occasionally giving glances to Tarvias and Hathaway, looking all but disinterested yet the fact that her ears swiveled towards them shows that she is merely giving the illusion of apathy.

-------

[ The Narayanastra ]

OOC: Post Theme

Hostiles emerging from right corridor. Only frontmost three needed to be taken out, the rest will be neutralised by allies.

With brutal precision, 404 dispatches said enemies with accurate three-round bursts from her XM-15 rail-assisted rifle. She advances, keeping close to the rest of her current allies as she scanned the area methodically with each step, taking out threats with ruthless efficiency. Quickly putting a burst into the head of a large Kracian that tried to ambush her from behind an alcove, a part of 404's thoughts go towards her mission. Her goal right now was to find either the reactor room or the control room of the station, in order of importance. To that end, 404 had flown in with the Amelia, probability indicating that the experienced group crewing said ship would have been one of the safest paths of insertion with a high degree of survivability.

Large group of hostiles. High explosive fragmentation grenade projected to neutralize 40%, the rest disoriented to varying degrees.

The only issue however, 404 muses as she lobs one of the grenades on her belt underhanded towards a door a second before it opens up, is that it seems that one of said crew could present an unforseen complication in her calculations. The one called Pes seems to disrupt any attempts by 404 to calculate any probabilities around her, and the small nudges made by 404 with her own psionics confirm that the former seems to have mind-based powers of her own. Using more forceful methods could lead to her cover being blown and her current allies turning on her, something that is not yet ideal, so 404 merely keeps a close watch on Pes for now, personal mindshield raised so that to Pes, there is a conspicuous lack of anything from 404 were she to utilise her empath abilities.

-------

[ Exoda Galactic HQ, Reiksburg ]

"They refused." The agent said simply, facing as he stood at attention a short distance in front of the ornately carved marble desk.

"Of course they did." Markus Amoux snorted in amusement. "The New Order sent sledgehammers, when they should have sent scalpels."

Rising up from his high-backed leather chair, the CEO of Exoda galactic turned to the window behind him, a contemplative look as his sight wandered over the Reiksburg expanse, the city and planet representing the capital if the Exoda Galactic megacorporation.

"This is a great opportunity, however. If the Xazari State as a whole had somehow came to an agreement with the New Order, however unlikely that might be, then it would not have changed anything about our position. But now, with uncertainty looming and conflict inevitable, it may be time for a rotation in management. Perhaps under a New Order."

Smirking at his own joke, Markus swivels back to the agent.

"Make sure our assets are moved to position. Contact the rest. There's much preparation that needs to be done. And present an invitation to Vitalik. Being an established contact with the New Order means that it is imperative we get him on our side. For now."

<Hy'Dorel>

The pilot sighed after hearing the control tower operator’s words.

“Well, we’re through the hardest part,” a Malchiorian soldier said.

“Who are you kidding?” Jorten scoffed. “It only gets worse from here.”

The ship landed at Terminal 13, and the group emerged, trying to maintain their cover as well as they could.

---

<Base Theta, Iotunort>

Commissar Hathaway was taken aback by Tarvias’s words. What exactly was this man, having claimed to have been dead for thousands of years? She shook her head, marveling at the mysteries of the galaxy.

Once everyone was assembled, Bijorn-tar crossed his arms.

“Apparently the storm died down,” he said incredulously and glanced at Amzi’x. The Zrujim nodded cryptically.

“Then I suppose you should get moving,” Commissar Hathaway replied. “Ari, Stokko, and Bijorn-tar, you take everyone there and let Amzi’x guide you. Take some additional soldiers too. If there are New Orders and rogue Gosnosticons crawling around down there, we don’t know what we’ll run into.”

“We’ll be ready either way,” Aristotle Mutinta said, cocking his pulse rifle.

“Either way, we’ll be on standby,” Commissar Hathaway nodded.

“Let’s move out!” Bijorn-tar ordered.

The group (hopefully with Blizz and Tarvias) left the base and loaded up into a truck. They drove to a snowy cave miles away, and parked in front of it.

“Here,” Amzi’x explained. “This should be our best route.”

The group emerged from the truck and began to preapre to enter. Suddenly, a platoon of New Order soldiers ran out of the cave, firing their weapons.

“CONTACT, CONTACT!” Aristotle Mutinta yelled, firing his pulse rifle at the incoming enemies.

---

<Vonilla Staging Post, Stairway to Heaven>

Hercules Splendor stood up and nodded at Cassius, tapping the cockpit’s roof. He grabbed a plasteel suitcase, made his way to the exit, and jumped towards the submarine hatch. Gather Round kissed her fingers and placed them on her tech gear before grabbing her blaster and jumping as well. Astrophel took a swig from a flask before slinging his pulse rifle over his shoulder. Cassandra Cromwell rolled her eyes. They then both dropped down to the hatch.

Once everyone was inside, Gather started tapping at a device on her wrist. Holograms showing some of the base’s blueprints.

“So how exactly are we making our approach?” she asked. “This place looks...weird.”

"What have you got in there, Zero?" Astro inquired. Hercules nodded under his helmet.

"Everything I need," he replied, smiling underneath his helmet.

Meanwhile, deep down, something stirred. A tentacled submarine slowly rose from the depths, patrolling the sea.

---

<Malchior IV, DRJ’s Ship>

“I’m with The Witz,” Treveya Q claimed. The Witz was a Malchiorian holo-net news outlet, notorious on the planet and in other areas of the FSA for its reporting. Many have accused it of secretly being a New Order propaganda publication, while others took it to be a VPR outfit after perusing a few opinion articles that spoke highly of Uteriach. A nearby reporter from a different publication secretly thought to herself that Treveya’s questioning meant that The Witz was actually an Eachanite paper all along.

Regardless of the publication’s true affiliation (if it had any at all), it had recently been seen as a org vehemently opposed to Klak’s presidency.

“Oh of course,” Klak dismissed.

“Just asking questions, sir,” Treveya replied, raising her arms defensively.

---

<Malchior, Malchior System>

The Malchiorian Department of State luckily analyzed the contents of the drive that Brianna gave to Russello. They intended to have Klak contact the mysterious coder, but the events of Vonilla and the attack on the FSA headquarters delayed his message.

Finally, after a few days and sometime after Klak left his meeting with David Robert Jones, he patched into the remote transmitter in an attempt to begin this holo meeting.

“Who is this?” Klak asked. “If you’re Xazari, rest assured Ms. D’Argent is safe. Negotiations will resume soon.”

-

<Malchior IV, Anh-Dante Cemetery>

The plasma shots slammed into the turret, blowing it up and sending the guard flying. A pair of missiles flew from the lower ends of the car’s chassis towards the enemy agent.

Meanwhile, Dr. Vell gasped in confusion and fear, uncertain about what was going on. A guard in another seat shouted for backup into his communicator.

---

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

Wareshu noticed Sally’s correction and cold demeanor and decided not to poke at the matter any further. When Praxter made his comment, he scoffed and raised his hands defensively.

“Hold on now,” he cried. Tayne started laughing as Wareshu smiled. “How was I supposed to know the Botori word for ‘faster’?”

“I just don’t know how you lose a betting race and a simple card game in under an hour,” Tayne smirked. He winced, then put down five blue holo-chips. “Not to mention everything else that happened then!”

“Oh shut up,” Wareshu chuckled. “You were too drunk to remember anything!”

“No, no,” Tayne retorted. “I was perfectly fine until after you made the bet with that Byronite that Praxter would lose! You had to have been drunk after that one.”

The two started laughing.

---

<Aerisgard>

Figlio’s hologram chuckled. He nodded and pursed his lips.

“Yes, at first,” he acknowledged. “But I think we could help each other. I heard you’re running for Secretary-General of the Free States Alliance! And facing some tough competitors...or rather, competitor. Someone named Lijzhora, from Byron, dropped out. Krieger is gone...may he rest in peace...and now you’re facing someone from...Pasajem, is it? Gaius Malcovus. The few spies I have in the FSA have told me many things. They say one of Krieger’s last acts was to broker a deal with the Heyerdahl Corporation. They also say Malcovus is getting a bigger commitment from the Vykonian government-in-exile. Meanwhile, the Malcs apparently are trying to find friends in Xazari. Krieger may be gone, but it looks like everyone has something to bring to the table! Save for you. All you have is your name, a name that frightens a lot of people. I’m not sure what kind of government you plan on making, but we all remember your father’s attitude towards us filthy xenos. Thankfully, us Dachori were a little higher on his list of approval, but still!”

Figlio sipped his drink to leave his point hanging, then continued speaking.

“You need something to support your candidacy,” he added. “A proposal that will blow everyone out of the water...something no one in the entire FSA has been able to do for as long as it has existed.”

Another sip.

“Something only I and a few other people can offer. An armistice, dividing my planet in two for the time being, while we send a small unified garrison to fight the New Order. Peace on Vongola.”

---

<Vongola, City of Sards>

Joshua Kozín sighed.

“Here and there,” he replied dejectedly. “Adorra has been going well, thanks in part to the Diamond Dogs, but we took heavy losses all the way in Taurus. But thankfully, we’re safe here in Tarzia...save for something strange I found...”

---

<Merc Rendezvous Point>

As the meeting wrapped up, Lalli and Regina passed by Pirate Lord Akzer and some of his group.

“Think Fourteen’s here?” Lalli whispered to Regina.

“Don’t count on it,” Fourteen quipped telepathically, startling both Lalli and Regina. They looked around and saw him grinning at them from afar, waving.

“How many times have we told you not to startle us like that?” Regina shouted.

“Not enough!” Fourteen replied. “Besides, we all need a good laugh! Didn’t you hear? We’re flying into hell!”

-

<New Order Battlestation Narayanastra, Asukara System>

Among the flotilla was a small fleet, composed of ships belonging to members of the crews of Pirate Lords Akzer, Ozar, Keichi, and Veyelan. They had been called as reinforcements after Colonel Hawkes and Commander Onyx’s briefing. The ships were of varied architecture: some retrofitted Vykonian gunships, some Liquid Metalliconite assault ships, others of different origin. Many of them bore the insignias of their respective lords, the serpent symbol of those loyal to Veyelan gleaming in the light of a nearby star. At the head of the fleet was the battlecruiser Akzer and the others had come in on, known as the Missing M (a name that sounds better in Liquid Metalliconite and is a reference to [REDACTED]).

The Pirate fleet began to engage the Semovente battlecruisers, fighting valiantly even as some of their brigand comrades were torn apart by the railguns. Swarms of fighter ships emerged from the Pirate fleet and charged at the New Order’s fleet, attempting to pick at their nacelles.

Explosions rocked the Missing M as it swooped towards the Narayanastra. Despite the war with the Kracians happening inside of the bay, the ship landed neatly relative to some of the others.

Fourteen suggested forming a telepathic link with Azker and the others, but Akzer decided it would be best to do so after they finished establishing the beachhead.

Squads of buccaneers of various species loyal to the Pirate Lords rushed out of the Missing M’s landing. Some of them opened fire on the Kracians, while others used their various melee weapons against their enemies. Fourteen came out and flung four Kracians away with his telekinesis, then fired his rifle at a dozen others near him. Akzer swung his colossal broadsword, pulverizing a nearby enemy. Meanwhile, Quick Billy fired his twin laser pistols at breakneck speeds, dispatching numerous Kracians in seconds.

The battle was chaotic, just as Quick Billy had hoped. Keichi had ordered him to figure out a way to have an...accident...happen to Akzer on this mission, one that would either injure the pirate or kill him if need me. It was jealousy that motivated Keichi; he had long been jealous of Akzer’s position in the Pirate Lord hierarchy, but his recent accomplishments and coziness with the FSA meant he needed to be taken out before he would be too powerful to handle. And a chaotic battle would be the perfect cover-up; Quick Billy could just blame the New Order or a stray bolt or bullet. It also helped that Fourteen was too busy fighting some New Order troopers that had just killed some of his crewmen.

He dashed back near the ship for cover, then waited for the right moment where Azker would put himself in a position that would expose one of his unarmored weak spots. Akzer, unaware of his impending doom, twirled his blade, staring at a nearby squadron of Kracians charging towards him. Quick Billy aimed and fired.

A spurt of teal blood flew into the air and splattered onto the ground before the bolt cauterized the wound. Akzer’s eyes grew pale. He kneeled to the ground and looked around, noticing Quick Billy smiling at him from afar. Akzer’s mind swirled with feelings of betrayal and rage. Sure, the pirate’s life was treacherous, but not like this. He tried to crawl over to Quick Billy and gritted his sharp teeth, growling. However, it was far too late. Akzer slumped over, his mind flickering, yet his rage palpable. Fourteen only noticed when it was too late.

Fourteen spun and saw the dying Akzer.

“Shit, they got Azker!” he cursed aloud. Suddenly, a bolt hit him, his armor successfully deflecting the shot. Fourteen cursed again and returned fire at the Kracian.

Someone else noticed Azker’s rage. Someone who had the advantage of being an outside observer.

Meanwhile, outside of the station, Lalli’s ship spun around in an attempt to avoid fire and make it to the bay. Regina manned the guns, firing at the New Order defenses.

“Almost there…” Lalli enunciated as he gritted his teeth. “Get ready for a rough landing!”

His ship darted into the hangar bay, crashing into a group of Kracians that had been firing at it. The landing gears were blown off, and the bottom part of the ship’s chassis screeched as it slowed to a halt.

Lalli Cain and Regina Faral quickly jumped out, firing their weapons at the Kracians. They advanced with the rest of the group as they moved forward.

“Let’s hope everyone aside is taking care of business, especially those Malcs and that Akathama Kimaris ship,” Lalli thought aloud.

When the Kracians began to climb onto the control tower, Lalli began to lay suppressive fire from afar. Simultaneously, Regina loaded a scope onto her rifle and aimed at the Kracians in an attempt to pick them off.

Meanwhile, as the battle raged, a Malchiorian corvette landed in the bay. Herd Stir emerged from it and made their way to a platoon of Kracians. Herd separated themself into smaller blobs which leaped onto the Kracian soldiers in an attempt to smother them.

The Kracians climbing the tower suddenly began to feel a sense of dread, as though something incredibly fearsome was stalking them.

---

<Mayor Lundby’s Office, Yari III>

On the flight to Yari III, Rain did his best to answer questions, using the knowledge he had gained to help develop this cover identity.

Rain noticed the suspicious-looking man from earlier. Meanwhile, at the mayor’s office, Rain smiled and bowed.

“Such a pleasure, Mayor Lundby,” he greeted warmly. “I’m Taloran Kite. I’m a Malchiorian holo-filmmaker. Just asked to follow Aster around for a few days for a movie I’m making if you don’t mind. I won’t get in anyone’s way! I just want to take some notes, develop the story a bit.”

He shot a knowing glance at Aster.

“You never you know who might be watching,” he said with a smile.

-

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

Raven replied to Von Budberg’s greeting with a nod.

“Mmm, excellent,” Raven replied to the second piece of news in a raspy voice. He sat down and pulled out a cigarette. “I suppose we’ll be moving in on her soon? I have a few ideas on how to approach that.”

He placed the cigarette in his lips and lit up.

[ Agresia Orbit, Xazari Expanse ]

The exodus of Allmanite loyalists from the Confederacy in the immediate postwar era was, to put it lightly, poorly documented. Partly, this was intentional; on Armistice Day, bonfires had raged in practically every settlement across the Confederacy as complicit governors and government officials raced to dispose of as much evidence and documentation as possible. More often though, this was simply to the nature of the war itself; it was difficult to determine whether companies of infantry truly had fled rimwards to join some Neo-Allmanite resurgent state, or if they'd instead met their end at the hands of a Takemikazuchi neutron bomb - both options left comparable levels of evidence.

Persistent were the rumors of super-ships and super-weapons disappearing into thin air; a prototype dreadnought here, a genetically engineered virus there - according to one rumor an entire shipyard facility had defected, outfitting itself with a single-use long-range FTL drive and fleeing from Tanari space entirely.

The latter, of course, was completely true. The ink on the armistice documents scarcely had time to dry before Admiral Timothy Morgan Veidt took command of the Sedona orbital shipyards and executed an emergency FTL jump to Xazari space. In the following years, Admiral Veidt's faction would operate in secrecy under the guise of the Madrigal Orbital Engineering corporation - a subsidiary of Agresian Chartered Engineering. Veidt's fleet had traded military uniforms for MOE corporate jumpsuits and officer's pips for supervisor's badges, but their hatred of the backstabbing career politicians of the Confederacy had never subsided.

Timothy Morgan Veidt relaxed comfortably in the observation lounge of the Sedona orbital shipyards, dressed in a slim black turtleneck and dress slacks under a matching neoprene longcoat. A capped glass of elderflower cordial sat in his hand; the necessity of diligence had served to intensify military discipline within Veidt's remnant faction, and consumption of alcohol was punishable by airlocking. Even within the privacy of his own office, Veidt would not think to hold himself to a different standard than that which he expected of his men.

The door slid open and Vitalik slithered in; the Agresian moved comfortably through the ultra-low gravity of the shipyards, his four sets of limbs working in unison to propel him through the air. He came to a halt, casting a glance out of the window; fusion torch flares illuminated the skeletal framework beyond as Veidt's men worked tirelessly to upgrade a flotilla of the New Order's Gideon-class patrol destroyers to the new stealth specification Arc Vodoss had requested. Vitalik hissed.

"Thisss isss too much...  New Order ssshipsss sitting jussst above my planet... More trouble than it isss worth..."

Veidt took a sip of the cordial, before placing it down on the table next to him, the glass magnetically sealing to the surface.

"The New Order simply doesn't possess the level of stealth technology that's available to us as participants of the Xazari Free Market. We're being paid handsomely for bridging that technological disparity on their behalf."

"You forget - the corpsss will have my head if they find out what you are doing here."

"It's not that I forget." responded TMV. "It's just that that's more of a you problem."

Vitalik hissed, baring his teeth. Veidt stared him down. The lizard relented, looking away and kicking himself off the window, floating through the center of the room.

"Vodossss is sending another patrol destroyer to replace the Raptor - the one you lossst."

"I didn't lose it. I sold it - to Daniel Danssen."

"An incredibly ssstupid decisssion."

"An incredibly profitable one." responded Veidt, retrieving his glass. "And we were all on the same side, anyway. I can hardly be blamed if he hides the thing so poorly that Graff Heyerdahl finds it and repaints it in FSA colors. Stupid bastard."

Vitalik shook his head. This wasn't a conversation topic he wanted to dawdle on - Danssen's fate was an ill omen for all New Order collaborators. The Agresian produced a small datastick from his harness and threw it in the direction of Veidt; the Admiral caught it between his fingers.

"Markusss Amoux wants to talk. He wantsss in."

"Do you trust him?" responded Veidt, taking a sip of his drink.

"No. Not yet, at least." reponded Vitalik, before a grin formed on his reptilian face. "But... I do trussst his money."

---

[ Tanari Convention Hall ]

Reed leaned forwards, kissing Shae on the cheek.

"Shae, so lovely to see you as always. Your husband was just telling me the most wonderful joke. What do you call twenty-eight Shifters up to their necks in cement? Not enough cement!"

---

[ ONV Ban Hama ]

Captain Odenkirk was thrown from his command chair as the pirate ships targeted the fleet, explosions rocking the ship. He climbed to his feet, blood trickling down his forehead from where he'd slammed into the cold metal floor beneath him.

"Sir!" came the panicked voice of an ensign. "They're targeting the nacelles!"

"Oh, geez." replied Captain Odenkirk. "Geez, not the nacelles - we need those!"

---

[ ONV Ban Seed ]

Captain Kayode watched in horror as the Ban Hama exploded on her viewscreen, overwhelmed by the pirate attacks. The Ban Seed's own PDCs were struggling to cope with the waves of missiles and fighters headed in its direction; multiple guns across the ship were reporting mechanical failures or feed issues. Kayode gave command of the bridge to her XO and retreated to the communications lounge adjoining it, kneeling before a holo-projector. The menacing form of Arc Judmon - a seven foot tall apelike humanoid of arboreal origin, clad in the crimson armor of his Kracian faction - flickered into life above her.

"My Lord, the Ban Mora and the Ban Hama have been destroyed. We have nearly exhausted our own supply of PDC ammunition and are being overwhelmed."

"Your fleet has bought us more than enough time, Captain Kayode. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten." responded Arc Judmon, affording Captain Kayode the genuine respect owed to an inheritor of the Kracian warrior tradition. "Die well".

"Yes, my lord."

Moments later, the Ban Seed turned, accelerated hard into the centre of the attacking fleet and, deliberately overcharging its own FTL core to destroy as many of the attacking ships as possible, exploded.

---

[ Narayanastra, Hangar Bay ]

Magnus guided the Akathama Kimaris into the hangar; like nearly all New Order ships it landed vertically, with its engine pointing downwards, like some kind of SpaceX rocket. Without a gantry to connect to, the crew instead abseiled down from an egress hatch located near the bottom of the ship, rapidly disembarking and taking up positions around the ship - but by then, the Kracian resistance within the hangar had been all but defeated. Captain Evangelise Ascheron racked the pump of an autoshotgun as she surveyed the area, before pulling up a map of the Narayanastra's internal layout on a wrist-mounted display; it was being freely broadcast by Ben Kovacs about the Blacksword.

"Prison compound's this way - let's go."

---

[ Narayanastra, Bridge ]

Admiral Di-Jonn Massa smiled wryly as Yenot appeared, and calmly turned towards him. The rest of the bridge crew retreated to cover, drawing their service weapons and aiming them at the intruder. Massa raised a hand, gesturing for them to hold their fire.

"Most curious. You have the technological means to teleport into the center of the most heavily fortified battle station in the galaxy, yet not the foresight to realize how foolish a decision that would be? This will be over in moments."

Massa stepped forwards, grinning.

"Activate the Psy-."

"No." interrupted Arc Judmon, stepping onto the bridge. Massa paused, watching as the Arc walked forwards, a double-handed Kracian maul gripped tightly in his gargantuan hands. "I will deal with the intruder myself."

With that, Judmon charged towards Yenot, thundering towards the intruder.

---

[ Narayanstra, Reactor Chamber ]

Shepard and Vekhta burst into the reactor chamber. Lilith looked up as they entered, training their weapons on her.

"Arc Vekhta. I haven't seen you in a while."

"It's just Vekhta, now, actually." responded Vekhta, throwing her rifle to the ground and pulling the hilt of a beam saber from her belt, igniting it. It was no Blade of Avalon - but it'd do. "I know everything, Lilith. I know about the Yuzari. I know what you did to me. I know what you took from me."

Lilith paused. "And?"

Vekhta's eyelid twitched. "And I know this war is wrong. It's hubris. Sefer thinks she can do something no-one in galactic history has been able to do before - unify the galaxy under one rule. It can't be done."

"You're right."

"I-" Vekhta paused, confused. "What?"

"It's not possible to unify the galaxy under one rule. It can't be done. On that count, you're completely correct. But if you think that's what Sefer's after here, then you're entirely mistaken - and evidently, you were never paying enough attention back when you had the opportunity to."

"E-enough of this sophistry. I'm here to kill you."

Lilith extended her arms outwards. "If you want to kill me, you're welcome to try. We can skip the discussion and get straight into the violence, if you'd like. Shepard knows what I'm talking about, though." she replied, looking over to the former New Order supersoldier who had served so faithfully at Sefer's side. "See, Shepard's always had a pretty good grasp of the what the end goal is - he just never had the stomach for the means. I'd be... well, lying if I said I couldn't empathize with that position"

"You used my brothers as cannon fodder." responded Shepard, anger evident in the voice of a man who ordinarily spoke with monastic composure. "Wiped us out when we had outlived your use for us."

"And I'm truly sorry for that." retorted Lilith, with no hint of sarcasm in her tone. "I don't share Sefer's indifference towards bloodshed. And I won't insult your intelligence by pretending that I can see some hidden wisdom or meaning in each and every one of her actions; I can't, and I don't."

"What is Sefer's plan?" interrupted Vekhta, hand gripped tightly around the hilt of her beam saber. Neither Shepard nor Lilith spoke. Vekhta stepped away from Shepard, pointing her blade towards him. "Shepard, I have had enough deception and lies for a lifetime - what the hell aren't you telling me?"

"Go on." offered Lilith, folding her arms. "I'll let you two finish. Vekhta deserves to know."

Shepard sighed.

"Sefer's plan... is something called BZP."

<The Narayanastra>

As Ashton, Amelia and Pes advanced through the hangar bay behind 404, shooting down Kracians as they went, Pes thought something was wrong, and not in the usual way, as the question wasn’t so much what he could feel, as what he couldn’t feel. 404 appeared to be taking active measures to prevent him from sensing her emotions, indicating she was either a very private person by nature, or that she was very keen to hide something in particular, and that wasn’t a chance one could take lightly on a mission like this.

The Terugan was so preoccupied with this that he completely failed to notice the Kracian trooper who had just landed behind him and was about to shoot him in the back - thankfully, Ashton gunned him down before anything of the sort could happen.

“Pes, what the hell, man?” he yelled. “Stay focused! What’s wrong?”

“Shit, sorry, Ash.” Pes said, glancing at 404 briefly. “I’ll tell you later.”



Blackout, still invisible, saw Vekhta and Shepard heading off towards the reactor room, and was about to follow them at the speed of thought, when he suddenly saw Akzer fall, shot in the back by someone he believed to be, if not a friend, then at least above such obvious treachery. The rage - such rage - burned bright like fire in his dying mind. Blackout smiled, sensing an opportunity. He approached Akzer, and began to charge up a blast of healing energy, to be used on him if he decided the dying pirate was acceptable for his purposes, and at the same time, used his psychic powers to enter the dying pirate’s mind. The entire attempt would only take a few minutes, though from Akzer’s perspective, it could appear as though hours were passing.

He appeared amid a scene from his past (OOS: Klak, up to you what it is), albeit one proceeding at a strangely slowed down pace and with Akzer himself feeling completely detached from what was supposedly happening around him. He smiled at the confused pirate.

“Where are you going?” he asked.



Colonel Hawkes spotted the Kracians climbing up the tower, and fired a few rounds at them. They made a very satisfying thump when they hit the floor, he noted. A light flashed on his bionic arm, indicating that he’d received a message from Ben Kovacs, namely the schematics of the station. He saved them within the memory storage of his cybernetic implants for future reference, and then surveyed the scene. The New Order resistance had been thoroughly subdued - and a fair few mercenaries had either perished during the assault or apparently gone off to do their own thing. This was annoying, but to be expected - so long as they didn’t get in the way, they would serve as a useful distraction.

As he did so, Lieutenant Ed Buckner, a Malchiorian explosives expert who had come along with Hawkes and September Dawn, emerged from the corvette holding a gun and several boxes filled with explosives.

Hawkes then projected a very large hologram into the centre of the bay, with flashing red dots indicating key areas - CIC, the primary reactors, the chamber holding the PsyTroopers, and the chamber where the Narayanastra’s railgun was charged and reloaded.

The mercenaries, he announced, would be split into four teams, each led by an FSA operative, whose job would be to fight their way to and take over those key areas. They were to hold their positions until Hawkes was able to take over CIC and figure out if the station itself could be moved, and await instructions.

Team Alpha: The Shadow Operative, 404, Pes, Fourteen and Shao are to take over the reactors.
Team Beta: Onyx, Amanda Warren, Regina Faral, I.C. and Taggar are to cover the railgun chamber.
Team Gamma: Herd Stir is to take Lieutenant Buckner, Quick Billy, and Amalgamud to the PsyTrooper chamber, to plant explosives there in the hopes of destroying the PsyTroopers while they’re still in stasis.
Team Delta: Finally, Hawkes himself, Ashton Carney, Lalli Cain and Yuaj would infiltrate and take over CIC.
OOS: Any characters I may have missed, or who you guys may decide to add last-minute, can just join whichever team you like.


Before Lilith could proceed any further with her explanation, she, along with Vekhta and Shepard, suddenly heard Blackout’s booming voice in their minds.

“Yes, yes. You and your paramour have plans. They are vast and complex and will shake the galaxy to its very core. Maybe they are even good plans. But you are not worthy to shake the galaxy to its very core.”

He suddenly appeared, floating in the air over the three, looking down on them with his curiously dead eyes. Vekhta and Shepard had no problem perceiving him, but Lilith’s brain could not quite accept that he was, in fact, there and not a figment of her imagination.

“Lilith Heyerdahl, we meet at last. And believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” he said, as every word he spoke seemed to echo hundreds of times in her ears.

-----

<Yari III, Mayor Lundby’s Office>

Aster noticed Rain’s knowing glance, and made a mental note to ask him a few questions when they were done here.

“Uh-huh.” Mayor Lundby was clearly either unconvinced, or not overly enthusiastic, or both. She eyed Aster. “And you’ve agreed to this, I take it?”

“Yes.” Aster said reluctantly. “Mr. Kite comes... highly recommended. And as you know, I’ve always believed in documenting our struggle.” This she was more pleased with - she’d finally found an acceptable line to deflect questioning about ‘Taloran’, at least from a certain sort of person.

“That is true.” Lundby muttered. “Anyway, you know why you’re here. My late predecessor officially put an end to voter suppression in the largest city on this planet, and now, with any luck, we can beat Von Budberg. We just need a good turnout. And that’s where you come in, Aster. I was worried your executive would send someone else, who cares about the colonies after all, but thankfully, they made the right decision.”

“Yes, I’m sure they think so too.” There was a hint of bitterness in Aster’s voice for Rain to pick up on and Kirsten to nod along to.

“Everyone here listened to the Voice of the Resistance during Allmanism. They will remember you well. We’ve prepared a schedule of stump speeches in key constituencies for you. Mett here has it. He’ll be accompanying you for the rest of the trip, and he’ll be able to answer any other questions.” As Mayor Lundby spoke, Mett waved a sheaf of papers at the group.

“I’m sure you’d like to freshen up and get something to eat, it’s been a long trip. Your hotel is just two blocks down the street.” Mett advised. “I’ll visit you in a few hours to give you the schedule.”

“I’ve been asked to check in with the local Liberals first.” Kirsten said.

“That’s alright, I’ll take you there.” René muttered, seemingly annoyed with Kirsten’s very existence. He left the office to go to his hover car, and Kirsten could do nothing but shrug and follow him.

-----

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

Von Budberg nodded as Raven lit up his cigarette and opened his drawer, taking out a cigar. He cut off one end with what looked like an old Tanari army knife, and lit it up. He offered another one to Paul, who refused it with a polite smile and a slight hand gesture.

“That’s right, Raven. I like your enthusiasm.” Paul said. “We’ll move in a few days, closer to the election. My associate Siper is working on finding her schedule. And at the same time…” He suddenly eyed Von Budberg. “We’ll try to kill you, Prime Minister.”

Von Budberg, surprised mid-puff by Paul, suddenly started coughing. “Excuse me, Mr. Fisser?” he finally managed to stammer out after a moment, as he poured himself a glass of water.

“Oh, we’ll fail, naturally. But it will look like the opening act of a revolution, which you will, of course, easily put down. As we’ve already established, soft Liberal voters will eat it up. The Shifters will lose their figurehead… And you win another term.” Paul Fisser then turned to Raven. “Oh, I doubt the Prime Minister wants to hear the gory details. Igor might have some interesting toys for you to try out though, make sure to ask him next time we see him.”

Von Budberg took another puff of his cigar, and smiled. “No, no, please, go on, Mr. Forsythe. I served in Unit 709 during the Vrai invasion, alongside Allman himself. I’m certainly not squeamish. I’m curious, in fact.”

-----

<Yari III, Richard’s Forest Camp>

After a short-ish drive, the truck carrying the New Order weapons arrived at a reasonably large camp in the middle of the forest, centered on some ruins and a group of tents where weapons and supplies were being stored. Off to the side, a number of Shifters were practicing fighting with New Order rifles and blades.

Richard and Vlad got out, and were greeted by a white man with blond dreadlocks wearing a black turtleneck and jeans. “I did not know we were bringing more people in on this.” he said, his odd accent not overwhelming but noticeable regardless.

“It is necessary.” Richard said. “This is Vladimir Terrón, my right-hand man back on Tanari Prime, Vlad, meet Cédric Av-Kartin of the Shinsengumi, our primary liaison with the New Order.”

“My pleasure.” Vlad said in his usual emotionless tone, shaking Cédric’s hand.

“There will be one more weapon shipment.” Cédric was clearly not in the mood for pleasantries. “It should arrive tomorrow. After that, we may proceed at our leisure.”

“Proceed with what?” Vlad asked. “I haven’t been quite briefed on the entirety of our plan yet.”

“When I give the order,” Richard chuckled darkly. “Aster and Von Budberg will die. The agents we have been planting in key areas will kick in.

“You’re going to kill Aster? I thought you guys were-” Vlad couldn’t hide his surprise this time.

“Well, she killed me. It’s only fair. The entire colony will be in shock, our agents will take over key positions, and then...” He chuckled darkly again. “And then, our boys hit the streets.”

-----

<Tanari Convention Hall>

Shae found herself incapable of hiding her total disgust - not that she was trying very hard.

“Reed,” she whispered, as her husband obliviously walked onto the stage. “I’m married to the President of the Tanari Confederation. I’ve known many men like you. They always end up the same way. You, however, have wormed your way higher up than most. One way or another, I’m going to live just long enough to see you thoroughly humiliated. I only hope you don’t take the rest of us down with you.”

Without waiting for Reed’s reply, she stormed off to join her husband on stage, as Vice-President North chuckled slightly at the scene. “Her hunches are good, Reed.”


As Silver Eachan took the stage, he kissed his wife for the cameras, something his advisors had suggested he do to make a clear contrast with Jones, who was well-known to be single - and sometimes subject to unsavoury rumours involving Aster. Once the carefully stage-managed applause had died down, he launched into his speech.

-----

<Vongola, City of Sards>

“To the fallen of Taurus, then.” Kane raised his glass. “So, tell me about what you found.”

-----

<Malchior IV, Anh-Dante Cemetery>

The agent tried to fly out of the way of the missiles, but one nevertheless exploded next to him, blasting him into a nearby building. When the smoke cleared, he was visibly bruised and bleeding in a few places, but mostly, he was just obviously angry. He flew off at an even higher speed than before, and broke into the limo using the hole the now-destroyed turret had left.

“Good morning, Mr. Vell. How’s your wife?” he said in a sing-song voice, reloading his rifle.

-----

<Malchior IV, DRJ’s Ship>

“Is that so?” Jones smiled slightly. “You may print this: politics is about people’s lives. Silver Eachan has left us undefended, and I will actually invest in ways to detect… and destroy planet killers. Will that be all?” He gave Klak a knowing glance, wishing he could make a joke about message discipline.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

“You could always have used the phrasebook I gave you.” Ezzie said, putting down a single blue chip. “Except, oh wait, you gambled that away too!” The entire table burst out laughing.

Praxter raised an eyebrow - apparently Tayne was hoping to call his bluff. He took a single one of his cards out of his hand and put it on the table face-down, and was followed by the other players in this.

-----

<The Viper King>

Sylen Kurze sat at his desk at his quarters, surrounded by empty bottles of varying but nevertheless very clear odours, feverishly typing away to finish what would surely be his final report on Bendu. The report was as honest as it could plausibly be under the circumstances - it described the significant military presence they had detected, including the shipyards and docking facilities in the area, the computer failure that had led to their detection (this section contained suitably strong words directed at the Tanari finance and defence ministers), and their welcome by Sefer Yetzirah herself. The one dishonest part of the report was that it didn’t mention the mission she had left them with, but then, how could it? Instead it ended on a woolly note implying that her powers, already known to be impressive, had grown so much, and whatever was being constructed on Bendu was so powerful, that Sefer felt secure enough to simply let them go. It would probably raise eyebrows on Tanari Prime and the FSA, but at this point, that wasn’t Sylen or his crew’s problem anymore.

Having completed the conclusion of his report, Sylen finally hit ‘send’. He was glad enough to finally be done with the whole affair that he didn’t bother to check it for typos, as he probably should have done. The document would be transmitted via a secret channel to both Silver Eachan and the FSA headquarters on Malchior IV, who would undoubtedly circulate it amongst the various heads of state, including Klak.

Sylen reached for a half-full bottle of alcohol, and took a big gulp. At their last stop on a neutral world after making it away from Bendu alive, they had purchased a significant quantity of alcohol and drugs - with Tanari military intelligence picking up the tab, of course. Again, that wasn’t their problem anymore. This was their final mission - one way or the other, none of them were ever going to see their loved ones again. They were damn well going to try to cope with what was coming by doing as they pleased in the time they still had left. That wasn’t - couldn’t be - enough for some of the crew - since the ship left Bendu, two crewmen had committed suicide. Sylen wasn’t surprised - none of them had intended to sign up for this. He had signed them up for it against their will. On some level, he envied Reed Palermo and Halen Karsso. If he had died instead of one or both of them, this situation would not have arisen.

He began to get up, only to be knocked to the floor by the ship juddering to a sudden halt. “What the fuck?” he slurred, as he tried to pick himself up off the ground and head to the bridge… or to engineering… or somewhere vaguely useful.

-----

OOS: Waiting on Clay, Red, and Lib for the rest, and waiting on JS for Figlio & “Evangelise”

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

“Unit 709?” he replied in a slightly more cheerful tone. “We were already studying you when I started at the academy. An inspiration to us all.”

Raven dragged the cigarette then nodded, glancing at the smoke.

“Right. Give my thanks to Igor, old man. I’ve dealt with Shifters before, but I have a feeling Aster will be different. I’d love to experiment with new interrogation methods with her. The findings could be useful. And of course...depending on your wishes, Herr Prime Minister, we can either kill her or inject her with cataxyn. An old mate of mine seems to have suddenly come across a supply...an odd fellow, the years weren’t kind to him it seems. Anyway, he sent some to me. We could pull Aster’s strings like a puppet with it, have her speak out and recant her beliefs and...take care of herself.”

Raven then peered into Von Budberg’s eyes in a cold stare. He picked his cigarette out of his mouth then began to wave his hands as if illustrating his point while staring off into the distance.

“I suggest that we drag out our assassination attempt charade,” he proposed. “After the attempt, you get your decoy--if you have any--to spend some time in the hospital. Meanwhile, you secretly spend time at any vacation houses you might have. Meanwhile, we purge any disloyal party members...or any other thorns in your side. We will take care of everything and make it look like it was the work of the same people who tried to kill you. Madness and turmoil fill the air as blood is spilled all throughout the planet. Suddenly, the knight returns, having recovered from his wounds. He strikes down the rebellion and restores order to Yari III. The Liberals, scared out of their wits, either flock to you because you’re the new center or because they want to save their own hides. Then, the entire Confederation will be cheering the name of Von Budberg. Your second term will only be the beginning, Herr Prime Minister.”

Seemingly satisfied with his point, Raven slightly smiled then dragged his cigarette again.

“Of course, we’ll need a purge list,” he added.

-

<Yari III, Mayor Lundby’s Office>

Rain nodded at Aster’s comment. The hint of bitterness in her voice meant that he would have questions for her too afterward.

“Seems like you all have a busy day coming up. What’s the Voice of the Resistance?” Rain asked, obfuscating ignorance.

---

<City of Sards, Vongola>

“Hear, hear,” Joshua replied, then raised his glass before taking a sip.

He quietly placed his glass down, then hesitated, uncertain of whether he should tell Kane about what he found. He seemed to sigh, as though he lost the mental debate with himself.

“We found a dead rebel soldier at the northern border of our territory,” he described. “It appears the soldier was stabbed to death…and the killer left a note. The note said ‘Pandemonium Regnat’. I’ve never heard anyone in the entire VPR use that phrase.”

---

<DRJ’s Ship, Malchior IV>

Klak nodded at Jones in approval. Treveya Q forced a smile.

“Well said, sir,” she replied in a whisper. “Thank you.”

Treveya turned around and walked away. Nadle glared at her before turning to Jones and smiling.  

“Well, whatever the hell that was,” Klak chuckled. “I’ve got to be going. It was good to see you, Jones. Best of luck in your campaign!”

Meanwhile, the Presidential Palace received the information that Sylen transmitted to them. Klak would see it upon arrival.

-

<Anh-Dante Cemetery, Malchior IV>

Dr. Vell reeled in shock. He attempted to reach for a weapon hidden behind a panel in the middle seat.

"It's Dr. Vell!" he shouted as he pulled the panel and grabbed the beam knife.

At the front of the vehicle, one Presidential Guard desperately barked into his communicator, calling for backup. The driver pulled out a small laser pistol and pointed it at the agent.

---

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

Tayne looked at his cards, then at Praxter. He slammed his fists on the table.

“Every fucking time!” he shouted in defeat. Wareshu keeled over in laughter.

“How do you do it, man?” Tayne groaned. “I fold.”

---

<Asukara System>

Countless pirate frigates and fighters were obliterated by the Ban Seed’s kamikazi maneuver.

The remaining members of the fleet pushed forward, attempting to create a defensive wall against any incoming New Order ships.

-

<Narayanastra>

Akzer blinked in confusion. He noticed he was onboard the bridge of an airship, about to pilot it for the first time. He noticed his parents nearby, glanced at Blackout, then at the cerulean skies of an older Liquid Metallicon.

“Hah!” Akzer scoffed. “Just a dream! New Order, Quick Billy, planet-killers...ridiculous! Guess I fell asleep…I’m just flying for the first time!”

Akzer chuckled awkwardly, then noticed his parents did not react. He looked back to Blackout and gulped.

“I suppose you’re only a dream too? Or is this the afterlife? I suppose you’re the undertaker...though I expected you to be Liquid Metalliconite….”

-

Fourteen cursed to himself as he dragged Akzer to a nearby corner. He attempted to comfort Akzer but saw that Akzer was drifting away. Fourteen cursed again, in Liquid Metalliconite this time.

“Somebody get a medic to him!” he cried. After a moment, Fourteen decided to press on in Akzer’s honor and joined the rest of the group.

Lalli groaned, then dabbed at the sweat and dirt on his face.

“Of course I get stuck with Ashton and an Orphan Maker,” he whispered. “I don’t know which is worse.”

Regina glanced at Onyx, Amanda, I.C., and Taggar, nodding at each one of them. She approached Onyx.

“Any of you good with sabotage?” Onyx asked. “I’d rather disrupt the railgun systems than destroy them.”

The Shadow Operative said nothing as he leaned up against a wall. Fourteen raised an eyebrow at 404, recognizing her mental shield. He smiled when he saw Pes.

“Oi, Pes, what’s with mental shield over there?” he asked aloud.

Herd Stir reformed themself next to Lt. Buckner and Quick Billy.

“PsyTroopers, eh?” Quick Billy asked, smiling. “What could those be?”

“Quick Billy, is it? You don’t want to know,” Herd Stir forewarned. “You had best hope you’re as fast with bombs as you are with guns.”

[ Narayanastra, Hangar ]

PsyCommander Adria fell to the ground, dead.

Astra and Zeneca stood around her, watching as her glowing blue blood spilled from her various wounds and pooled around her body. They breathed a sigh of relief; they had been forced to hop into thirteen different bodies in order to defeat her, including some that they had been forced to "borrow" from their mercenary allies. They abandoned the bodies they were currently in - a Vrai assassin and a Malchiorian bounty hunter - which immediately died, falling face-first into the pool of PsyTrooper blood in front of them.

"We found her difficult." remarked Astra.

"Yes, we did." responded Zeneca, as the two turned to leave.

As they left, the bodies of the assassin and bounty hunter they had been inhabiting began to twitch and convulse, before gradually, slowly stumbling to their feet. It wasn't just those bodies - a plethora of corpses littered the area near where Adria had fallen, and these too began to writhe and convulse. Marshall Mathers stepped towards the bizarre scene to get a better look.

"What in tarnation-"

They charged. Mathers wasted no time, quickdrawing both revolvers - gunshots rang out as the heads of the Vrai and the Malchiorian exploded in clouds of blue blood, revealing the extent to which their own physiologies had been rapidly altered and metabolized by the substance. He back-pedalled, noticing that headshots weren't doing the job - he aimed for joints, hoping to render the host bodies outright useless. Ben Kovacs noticed the commotion through the bridge window of the Blacksword, and grabbed a flamethrower from a rack of weapons within the ship before disembarking. The ghoul that had been the Vrai assassin clawed at Mathers, shredding through his armor and infecting him - Mathers could feel the substance spreading throughout his body as his muscles began to spasm, and the last thing he saw was Kovacs stepping towards him, a flamethrower held between his hands.

"Do... it!"

Kovacs didn't hesitate, dousing Mathers and the ghouls in a jet of blue perma-flame that near-instantly converted them into so much carbon and hot smoke. More mercenaries had arrived, but by now other bodies had been infected and were convulsing, rising from the ground.

"All forces, this is Ben Kovacs. We have a problem."

---

[ Narayanastra, Corridor ]

Admiral Di-Jonn Massa smirked as he watched the events unfold in the hangar, projected from a holo-pad he held in his hands. Tapping a button, the feed disappeared, replaced instead with the image of Arc Isha aboard the ONV Pegasus.

"Admiral Massa. I'm surprised to see you aren't on the bridge."

"I'm afraid there's been a change of plans - the so-called boogie man of the free man decided to teleport into the middle of it. Arc Judmon is dealing with him - I am making my way to my command ship now."

"Fleeing?" chided Isha.

"Nothing of the sort." responded Massa. "Everything so far is proceeding according to my plan."

"If your plan involves hundreds of your own troops getting slaughtered in a one-sided battle, you might want to think about adopting better plans."

Massa grinned. "You fail to see the bigger picture. Once the security of this station is assured... the Free States shall be forced to submit to the supremacy of the New Order. Additionally-"

An alert tone sounded on Massa's device, showing a diagram of the ship, and Herd Stir's strike team approaching the PsyTrooper chamber. He grinned.

"It is nearly time to spring our trap. Isha... prepare to activate the PsyTroopers."

---

[ Narayanastra, Reactor Chamber ]

"So, the puppet master reveals himself at last." retorted Lilith, turning her eyes towards the optical glitch that was Blackout's physical form. "I knew Klak couldn't offer anything up that would cause Vekhta to turn. Go on - say your piece."

Energy began to crackle around the chamber, sparking between the walls and control rods. Lilith clenched her fist.

"And when you're done, I'm going to kill all three of you."

<Narayanastra, Reactor Battle>

Blackout’s chuckle echoed across the reactor chamber. “Miss Heyerdahl, please. You’re only embarrassing yourself.” He floated downwards, landing between her and Vekhta and Shepard, and a sort of bubble - visible only to himself and Lilith - appeared in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t intend for anyone in this room to die today, Miss Heyerdahl.” he said, as multiple other Blackouts began to appear around him, all holding similar bubbles. The illusions continued to multiply, and soon Blackouts filled Lilith’s field of vision - though Vekhta and Shepard were unable to see them either.

“Your death on this station would distress Sefer Yetzirah to no good effect, and I doubt you’d want that. You would be well-advised to come quietly.” All the Blackouts seemed to speak in unison, creating a distracting cacophony. The bubbles then floated away from their owner(s), forming into a sphere around Lilith, and then, all at once, became filled with a pulsating, almost impossibly bright light.

---

<Narayanastra, Team Delta>

“This is what I’m supposed to work with?” Ashton jerked his thumb at Lalli.

“As long as we’re here, you’ll both work how I tell you to work.” Colonel Hawkes hissed. “Or I can always space you. Let’s head out. Maybe we’ll find that Tanari guy who was supposed to turn up but never did. Ynot or something.”

As Team Alpha headed out towards CIC, Ashton sidled up to Lalli. “This time, I probably won’t try to kill you. Out of character, I know.” he whispered. “This job’s too important.”

---

<Narayanastra, Team Gamma>

“Let’s just say that if we don’t get this done quickly, we could all be fucking slaughtered.” Lt. Buckner said, adjusting his backpack. He then knelt down, and used a laser tool to open a large hatch on the floor. “This maintenance tunnel should get us to the chamber faster. Come on.” he said, dropping down into the large duct.

---

<Narayanastra, Team Beta>

“I once got the entire security system at the Alpha Centauri Defense Tech Laboratory to burn itself out.“ Amanda looked at Regina, and winked. “I think I can handle one big gun.”

---

<Narayanastra, Team Alpha>

“Keep it down!” Pes hissed. “I don’t know yet. And I don’t like it either. Let’s just… keep an eye out.”

---

<Narayanastra, Hangar>

As the other mercenaries left the hangar, those who stayed behind to guard the hangar came to Kovacs’ rescue, armed with laser and plasma weapons and a few flamethrowers.

---

<Narayanastra, Akzer’s Mind>

“My name, in your tongue anyway, is Blackout. I’m the last of a race that ruled the stars when Liquid-Metalliconites were just lazing about in the sun, but I can be the undertaker if you want me to.” Blackout smiled. “I want to offer you a choice, Akzer. I ask again: where are you going? If you survived this, what would you do? Where do you see yourself? And remember...”

Akzer suddenly experienced a flashback to being shot by Quick Billy.

“If I don’t like your answer, that’s all that awaits.”

-----

<Yari III, Mayor Lundby’s Office>

Aster silently noted ‘Taloran’s’ apparent ignorance. Either he was lying about one thing or another, or his mission briefing had been sorely inadequate - and as far as she was concerned, after how the Malchiorians had unceremoniously abandoned the Tanari opposition as soon as it became clear just what Sefer’s New Order meant in practice, one couldn’t rule out that they just didn’t care.

Mayor Lundby, meanwhile, thought little of it. “It was a secret broadcast back in the Allman days. David Robert Jones ran it. Kept us up to date on what was really happening in the Confederation and outside, the war and all that…” She pointedly looked at Aster. “And what the resistance was up to.”

At that moment, the Mayor’s intercom chirped into life. “Ma’am, there’s someone who wants to speak to you urgently.”

“Tell them I’m in a meeting.”

“It’s... Blair Morrison, ma’am.” Mayor Lundby and Aster rolled their eyes almost in unison in response. The CEO of the Morrison Group was one of the richest men in the Tanari Confederation, either owned many of Yari III’s industries outright or held stakes in them, and had long supported first Allman and then Eachan.

“Tell him I’ll be done soon.” Lundby switched off the intercom. “Very sorry about this. Mett will be along with all the other information in a few hours anyway. You can get settled in in the meantime.”

“Shall we?” Aster began to head towards the exit. “Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

-----

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

“Aye. We did a great deal. The Confederation will never see our like again. Quite literally, they banned the gene therapy after the war. I wonder if they still teach us at the academy now, or if they made Eachan take us out of the curriculum...” Von Budberg began to reminisce, but snapped out of it just in time to hear out Raven’s plan.

“Impressive work, Raven.” Paul smiled. “Very interesting. What do you think, Prime Minister?”

“Risky is more like it.” The Prime Minister frowned as he tipped some ash from his cigar into an ashtray. “I like most of your plan, but no cataxyn. We only get one shot at this, and we can’t waste it on trying to convince people the woman who led the raid on Cardena camp became an Allmanite and then shot herself. Everyone will know to look for cataxyn, and then people much more bothersome than the MRF might start asking questions of me, of my donors… No. Too controlled a substance. But apart from that, I like your plan.”

He reached into one of his drawers, and pulled out a sheet of paper. “You’re lucky I’m a man who holds grudges.”

-----

<Yari III, René Lasalle’s Car>

René drove off in the direction of the local Liberal HQ, Kirsten sitting next to him. The two sat in silence and glowered, until the brunette finally decided to break the silence.

“You don’t like me, do you, René?”

“Whatever would give you that impression?”

“I don’t know, everything you’ve done in the last few hours?”

René sighed. “I don’t know you. It’s Tanari I don’t like.”

Kirsten’s eyes widened slightly. “But… you are…”

“No, I’m Yarish. Born and raised here, never left. My only connection to Tanari Prime is that my tax money keeps going there, and no one ever asked me about that. I get why Aster’s here. The Shifters like her. I don’t know why you’re here.”

-----

<Tanari Convention Hall>

Eachan’s speech had gone pretty much according to plan - and that was the problem. After a brief reminder that the New Order was just waiting to strike again and finish the job, he pivoted to thanking his friends in the FSA, especially the Lurians, and condemned the Jones campaign for attacking allies at a time of crisis. After rattling off a few planned investments into the military, he began to discuss the ‘enemy within’ - dangerous radicals, just waiting to undermine the Confederation at the worst possible moment for the sake of their twisted agendas. He condemned the ‘assassination attempt’ on his campaign manager, and attacked Peres and Jones for their ‘support’ of it. Then, he moved onto the Shifters. After a few nasty jokes about Jones and Aster, he accused Jones of wanting to give Shifters priority for jobs, and allow them to go after the children of ordinary Tanari out of political correctness. And finally, he announced that if he were re-elected, he would immediately create an agency tasked with investigating claims that unqualified people were being hired for political reasons, and could terminate such employment contracts at its leisure, that Shifters would henceforth be banned from working in schools and from purchasing weapons, with any Shifters enrolled in the military subject to regular background checks.

Pleased with himself, the President returned backstage, and immediately poured himself a glass of a liquid that, if not inspected too closely, could have passed for water. Still beaming, he made his way over to General Van Smoot, Shae, and William Douglas Reed. The first two seemed to be looking particularly sour, which was, unfortunately, perhaps to be expected from Shae at this point, but not necessarily from Van Smoot.

“How did I do?” he asked.

“That last policy.” Van Smoot said angrily. “What the fuck was that? Regular background checks for Shifters in the military? Do you have any idea how many there are?”

Eachan was not ready for follow-up questions. “Didn’t peg you for a fan of them. Maybe you really have been hanging out with Aster and Richard a bit too much.”

Van Smoot continued. “Thousands, Silver, thousands! Those… disgusting things may have crawled out of the forests one day and just decided to be like us, but they shape-shift and we can’t. They make good cannon fodder. Allman got that.” The fact that Allman’s policy was to send the families and friends of any Shifters who didn’t think they made for good soldiers to camps from which few emerged alive wasn't something Van Smoot was particularly interested in.

The General turned to Reed. “You put him up to this, didn’t you? This… ill-thought-out bureaucratic monstrosity.”

-----


<Malchior IV, Anh-Dante Cemetery>

“Good to know your priorities are in order at this critical moment.” The agent laughed, then dropped a small metallic object on the floor and flew out as quickly as he’d flown in. The object appeared to be some sort of alien grenade, with an increasingly rapidly pulsating red light on top.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

Smiling, Praxter gathered up all the chips the others had bet, moving them into his own pile. He then put his cards down on the table, revealing that they were, in fact, quite weak, and Tayne could have won had he not folded.

“I’m the captain, Tayne. I have to act in cold blood at all times - even now.” he said, clearly trying not to laugh.

Prush’s communicator chirped as he received a text message. “Well, nice as this has been, I need to go down to Section B10.” he said. “Those fucking Coridan kids at it again.”

“I’ll come with.” Ezzie stood up too. “I’m out of chips anyway, and I told Jon I’d send him that preliminary report by the morning.”

“Shall we get a few more drinks?” Sally said to the others as Prush and Ezzie left the bar.

-----

<Vongola, City of Sards>

“Interesting. Nor have I.” Kane sipped his drink. “Is there anything of value in that area?”

-----

<Malchior IV, DRJ’s Ship>

“Bloody journalists.” Jones turned to Nadle and Peres, thinking Treveya was now out of earshot. “Always hated them. In a just world, a lot of them would be sweeping the streets. But then, in a world where people really did get their just desserts, a lot of us Stäbils would be up against the wall, frankly. So maybe we should be thankful for journalists.”

-----

<Malchior IV, Presidential Palace>

The Vrai ambassador to Malchior IV sat in the reception area, waiting. He looked much like Tekhe Ra, but he was slightly shorter, his eyes were green rather than orange, and he didn’t wear a necklace. He was rarely seen here - the Vrai had not even considered joining the FSA, and were generally mostly only interested in trade - but the High Representative had ordered him to seek a meeting with the Malchiorian President, Vice President, or Secretary of State as soon as possible regarding an urgent matter, and he wasn’t going to leave until he got it.

-----

Klak wrote:OOS: Waiting on Red for the Russello plot and for the rest of Iotunort.

[Bar on Iotunort]

“Hmm,” the man said. He stood up and sauntered towards Lib, his features becoming more apparent.  

“If we play our cards right, maybe our Iotun bartender friend won’t need to do any of that. And yes, I’m after the same thing. I suppose considering the war we should probably work together,” he offered. “While the FSA, the New Order, and the rogue Gosnoticans kill each other, we sneak in, keep an eye out for each other, and take as much as we can. We split it 50-50, go our separate ways. I enjoy the Iotunorti cold as much as the next guy, but a change of scenery would be nice after all this time spent searching.”

The man turned to the Iotun bartender and raised a hand defensively.

“Or 33% each?” he clarified.

“No way,” the Iotun said, dismissing the offer. “I learned not to mess with the Zrujim’s secrets long ago.”

“Fair enough, I’ll slip you a finder’s fee,” the man replied before turning back to Lib. “Anyway, friend, what do you think? Oh, where are my manners!”

He smiled and extended a hand for a handshake.

“Name’s Lake, Kristoffer Lake.”

---

"Call me Lib. As for the offer? Depends on who we will be picking up and what they're looking for. I presume you the only one around these places or am I expecting your friends to join in beyond this door?"

He introduced himself to the guy, might as well open up while they're in a safe place with no prying eyes. He was not new to the job, but he wasn't experienced enough to get away with treasures on his lootpad. Nevertheless, he never cared of the war as long as it didn't come to them. After all, who would be mad enough to attack an unarmed craft, saved for the occasional rouge A.I.

"Did you bought your vehicle with ya? Because I'm afraid this one's a one-seater for the time being. Unless if you wana live in the cargo bay."

[ Narayanastra, Reactor ]

Lilith flinched as the orb of light surrounded her, covering her face with her eyes to stop the light from blinding her. She went to cast a bolt of lightning to destroy it - but found herself unable to manifest any of her usual powers within the sphere.

"What the hell-"

---

[ Narayanastra, Hangar ]

Kovacs fired into the horde of PsyGhouls as a hatch at the rear of the hangar opened, and more came pouring through. He realized with horror that these were mercenaries who had departed the hangar just minutes ago - and had somehow been converted whilst traversing the labyrinth of corridors leading into other areas of the Narayanastra station. No doubt the fire suppression system had been re-worked to deploy this substance instead.

"My god, it's a set-up. All forces, fall back!" he shouted, whilst hosing down a pair of attacking ghouls with his flamethrower. "All forces, abort, abort!"

He began making his way back to the area of the hangar in which most of the ships had landed, but noticed a group of mercenaries refusing to retreat - instead, they pressed the offensive, flying over the horde with jetpacks and deploying countless advanced weapons into it. At first Kovacs thought they may have been a warband of Kracian hunters, but as one landed near him, he noticed the sigil of Geihmurs upon the warrior's armor, and a crown-like crest fused into the warrior's helmet.

"Fall back to your ships!" barked the Geihmur, gesturing towards the Blacksword with one of his pistols. "We'll buy you all the time we can."

"Don't be so stupid!" responded Kovacs. "You'll die!"

"We are already dead. These demons destroyed our homeland." replied the Geimhur, holstering his pistols and pulling a pump-action shotgun from his back. "And now we will destroy them." he added, racking the pump. Kovacs nodded in understanding as the warrior shot off on his jetpack, firing into the horde, roaring at the top of his lungs:

"GEIHMURS! RISE UP!"

Kovacs made his way into the Blacksword, sealing the entrance hatch behind him. He ran over to the communications console.

"All forces, this is Ben Kovacs. Narayanastra is a trap - the Order's using a biological weapon to turn our own people against us. If you cannot achieve your mission objectives in the next few minutes, you must abort. We are being overwhelmed in the hangar and cannot hold out much longer! I repeat-"

---

[ Tanari, Convention Hall ]

Reed shook his head, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his suit jacket.

"Shut up, Smoot. You seriously think that because we pledge something during the election, we have to deliver on it afterwards? We can invent half a dozen reasons not to follow through with it, if need be. What matters is that it's a policy point that does well with our focus groups - extremely well. And unless we win this election, there won't be a military - Jones'll turn it into some kind of tree-planting organization or some shit like that."

<Narayanastra, Reactor>

Blackout - the only Blackout that actually existed - smiled as he observed Lilith’s flailing in the face of a bizarre predicament that only existed in her head. He wondered what Shepard and Vekhta were making of this amusing display. He could reach into their minds and see, of course, but he wasn't that interested - what he was doing now was more fun and more important.

“I believe I heard something about you wanting to kill the three of us. Well, I’m waiting.”

The Void chuckled slightly at this half-hearted taunt. As he continued to mock Lilith, the ‘light’ making up the ‘orb’ suddenly turned into flame which certainly felt real in every relevant aspect, and the ‘orb’ itself began to shrink, the ‘flame’ seemingly threatening to engulf Lilith and burn her alive. “Scream, Miss Heyerdahl! Scream! Maybe it will set you free, maybe it won’t, but not doing so certainly won’t get you anywhere!” he yelled.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Delta>

“Roger that, Kovacs. We’re closing in on CIC. We should be able to find a solution from there. Over.” Colonel Hawkes replied quietly over the radio from Team Delta’s hiding spot at one end of a long corridor, at the other end of which lay one of the entrances to CIC. He then switched channels to contact the members of September Dawn exclusively. “SD, this is Hawkes. Did you hear that? Sounds like the New Order have another trick up their sleeve. They must be pumping something through the life support or fire suppression systems. Continue with your mission objectives. We’re in too deep to back out now, and CIC is probably key to this anyway. If they’re pumping this throughout the station, we may be able to pump in something else or something, and if we can't we're just falling back into a deathtrap anyway. Over.”

He put away his radio, and gestured to the rest of the team to open fire on the guards awaiting by the entrance, filling the air with laser blasts. Ashton joined in, and threw a small black disc in the direction of the guards, which landed on the floor behind them and suddenly began shocking them with very powerful lightning bolts.

-----

<Tanari Convention Hall>

Van Smoot scoffed. “That’s some pointy-headed bullshit, Reed! Maybe that’s all it is in dickless wonder land, where people are reducible to opinion poll results, but out in the real fucking world, people talk to each other. Now that you’ve announced this, it’ll be all over the news and every call to their families back home will mention it, whether we actually go ahead with it in the end or not. Do you want to see what happens when troops whose morale is at an all-time low start wondering if the commie agitators maybe actually had a point, and what might happen if the New Order finds out about that? Because I don’t. My job has always been to put down threats to Confederation security, not create them.”

“That’s enough, both of you!” Silver Eachan snapped. “The party and I are committed to a manifesto. The election is in just a few weeks. Once the votes are in, we can find ways to keep the military sweet one way or the other. But until then, this is what I’m fucking planning on doing. End of. Anyone who mentions a U-turn again can look forward to being Ambassador to the fucking Vrai or something. Have I made myself clear?”

-----

<Yari System, Tanari Frigate>

The Tanari frigate Agatha Clinton Reeves was passing by the desolate world of Yari V on a routine patrol. The scheduling of the patrol was no coincidence though - the Agatha Clinton Reeves’ crew, officers aside, was mostly Shifter, something that was unavoidable given recent recruitment policies, the demographics of Yari III and the typical range of opportunities a young Shifter had there. As authority over day-to-day operations of the ships defending Yari lay with the local government, a plan had been hatched by Von Budberg and his defence minister to grant predominantly Stäbil crews shore leave ahead of the election, while patrol duties would be reassigned to ships crewed by Shifters, making it harder for those who were from Yari III to vote.

In his quarters, Lieutenant Smigiel stared intently at his friend, Lieutenant Zaharov. The two Shifters had been hanging out for the last few hours now that they were both off-duty, mostly chatting about innocuous topics, but now Smigiel had turned the conversation to politics, and he wanted to be very sure that Zaharov was sympathetic before making his offer.

Not that Zaharov seemed to feel much restraint himself. “And this fucking officer asks me out of nowhere if I’m voting Eachan, says it’s the smart thing to do for a navy man... Can you believe the cheek of fucking guy? Eachan’s promising to fire my girl back home from her teaching job. Wants to run regular ‘background checks’ on us too, apparently. Might as well go all the way and order regular anal probes. Well, the joke’s on him, I don’t actually have an asshole.”

“Yeah, I feel you.” Smigiel smiled slightly. “How’d you like to be free of them forever? Eachan, Von Budberg, those fucking officers, everyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s gonna go down soon back home, mate. Something big. Apparently Von Budberg is going to seize power before he can lose his election. Some friends of mine are planning to stop him and set up a new government. But they need navy cover. They need people like you and I, mate.”

“A revolution? Man, I don’t know. I don’t want to get involved in that shit.”

“Think about it. No more putting up with these cunts. We don’t need much. All my friends need is to know that the crew will be willing to lock the Stäbils here in a cargo bay when the time is right.”

“Alright, man, I’ll think about it. But no more than that. If you were someone else, I’d consider turning you in.”

-----

<Yari III, Church Somewhere in Horba City>

The priest, an older Asian man with unruly, long grey hair, slowly poured two glasses of a clear liquid with his back turned to the door. He looked up at the two images on his wall - one of the Coldest Story Ever Told, and the other a looping hologram of a sphere of light splitting into innumerous others.

“I’ve been expecting you, Inquisitor Karol.” the priest said, still looking away as a tall Vrai, his orange eyes almost luminous, entered the vestry. He turned around, offering his guest one of the glasses. The Vrai, clearly slightly taken aback, accepted the drink.

“Good morning, Father Hirata.” Karol said, taking a sip. “Did the High Representative’s office call ahead?”

“Homecoming teaches us that everything, and everyone is interconnected. If one pays close enough attention, one can gain a sense of their next encounter... among other things."

Karol, ever the rationalist, couldn’t help but suspect Hirata was deliberately not telling the truth in order to make an impression, but he decided it would be more diplomatic not to say anything, especially in case he was wrong. “Right. Do you also know why I’m here, then?”

“About the Coldest Story Ever Told, I imagine. Yes, some of my brethren are on that ship, preaching the gospel, and I and a few others are in regular contact with them. But we have no more influence over the ship than the crew and their leaders allow us, and nor do we wish to have it.”

“I assure you, we wish for nothing more than to be allowed to speak to the leaders. The Vrai Empire would simply like to make them an offer, and they may take it or leave it as they wish. The values of the Coldest Story’s crew and your church and those of the Vrai Empire align like few others in this galaxy. I am here to make you the same offer, for that matter.”

“I cannot be sure what your values are, for you hide behind fleets and borders and defence systems. You choose to cut yourself off from the universe and so much of what it has to offer. I think I speak for us all when I say that is nobody’s idea of Homecoming.”

Karol thought back to what Tekhe Ra had supposedly said at a cabinet meeting. Our time of isolation must end now. We have safeguarded our values for decades, but what good is that if we are surrounded by evil? “We have hidden away for a long time, yes. Partly out of fear of what we could inflict, for whatever that is worth. But now we understand that protecting values means more than that. Hear me out, Father, please.“

-----

[ Blacksword, Narayanastra Hangar ]

As Ben Kovacs fed information through to the various strike teams, a warning tone sounded on another console - then another. He ran over and saw multiple LIDAR pings appearing on a three-dimensional display of the Asukara system; quickly, he tapped in to the shared mercenary battlenet and brought up a visual image of the approaching ships on another display. It was a New Order assault carrier - with a sizable escort.

A panicked voice sounded over the mercenary comm channel. "That's the Laconia - the flagship of the Tygenian fleet."

"No." corrected Kovacs, sighing. "That is the Tygenian fleet."

---

[ ONV Laconia, Asukara System ]

Battlegroup Laconia emerged from FTL, her component ships making the micro-adjustments necessary to slot them back into formation following the thousand light-year jump from Tygenia. The flagship of the fleet was the assault carrier Laconia, lead ship of the newly laid-down Laconia-class; she was accompanied by the Semovente-class battlecruisers Chrysaor and Geryon, the Gideon-class patrol destroyers Miranda, Assassin, Intercessor and Venator, the Warlock-class corvettes Prophet, Spectre and Bishop, and the Solomon-class torpedo destroyer Aden.

On the bridge of the Laconia, Admiral Hans "Domino" Baudouin cast his gaze upon the viewscreen and its harrowing projection of the three destroyed Semovente-class warships that had gone down in defense of the Narayanastra station. If any crewmen had been turned in his direction they might have noticed him gritting his teeth in anger - but even then, given the cybernetic domino mask-style implant that replaced the top half of his face, it was difficult to truly determine which emotion Baudouin was experiencing at any given time.

Arc Isha, however, experienced no such difficulty in reading the admiral. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leant down towards him, and whispered in his ear: "Give the order."

He did, and within seconds, the fleet engaged. Railgun tracers like beams of white light shot out from the Chrysaor and Geryon, targeting priority targets within the mercenary fleet; the smaller Gideon-class patrol destroyers closed in, intercepting any merc ships that tried to make a dash for the more vulnerable Semoventes holding position near the Laconia. The Aden deployed a full volley of multiple-launch torpedos - large projectiles the size of a small ship in their own right, which shot off in various directions before splitting into multiple individual torpedoes and engaging. Streams of interceptor fire shot out from the mercenary fleet as the swarm of ordinance closed in - allowing, amidst all the chaos, the Laconia's own payload to slip through.

The boarding torpedoes whipped through the fleet at breakneck speed, accelerated by the electromagnetic launch tunnel on the Laconia that was ordinarily used to launch fighters. Merc ships steered hard to avoid them - but it wasn't the ships they were targeting. As the boarding torpedoes approached the Narayanstra, they decelerated hard, flipping one-eighty and using their superheated drive plumes as to cut through the hull of the station...

---

[ Narayanastra, Reactor Chamber ]

The station rocked and alarms sounded as the reinforcements from the Tygenian fleet boarded the station, destroying countless systems in the process - albeit, nonessential ones. Amidst the searing pain, Lilith focused on the droning alarm siren, using it to ground herself back in reality - and counterattack. A column of electricity surged up the length of the control rod she stood atop and surrounded both her and the illusory sphere surrounding her - shattering the latter, vastly empowering the former. She cast the gaze of her bloodshot eyes around the chamber as lightning crackled around her forearms.

"I don't know who you are, or what you are - but you're dead."

---

[ Narayanastra, Corridor ]

As the alarms sounded throughout the station, Admiral Massa smirked. The advance PsyTrooper reinforcements from the Laconia had arrived; all that was left for him to do was activate his own garrison. He made his way towards the PsyTrooper chamber, and, tapping away at his wrist armor, gave the order for the command crew to close the blast shutters on the Narayanastra's hangars - trapping the mercenaries inside, and allowing the station to fulfill it's true purpose.

Narayanastra. According to Hindu mythology, it was an ancient Vedic weapon consisting of millions of missiles that rose in power and intensity to match any level of resistance offered, becoming stronger and stronger as their opponents did. A poor namesake for a railgun that exhibited none of those qualities - but a perfect namesake for a battlefield in which hundreds of PsyTroopers would have the opportunity to learn from the best killers and mercenaries in the galaxy, all drawn there by the lure of the station's supposed planet-busting capabilities. After today, the PsyTrooper corps would go from a deadly novelty to an unstoppable, invincible military resource.

Admiral Massa grinned. "Long live the New Order."

---

[ Narayanastra, CIC ]

A control panel displayed the instruction from Admiral Massa, but the crewman manning it was dead - caught in the crossfire as Team Delta forced their way into the command center and took control of it.

<Narayanastra Reactor Chamber>

“You don’t like following simple instructions, do you, Miss Heyerdahl?”

Blackout flickered out of sight for a minute, then reappeared behind Lilith. “I suppose I should treat this as a tutorial of sorts for when I do, eventually, have the privilege of meeting Sefer Yetzirah once I’m done with you. And so far, what I am hearing is posturing. Slogans. Ambitions far above your station. I doubt I will enjoy it. It will be as annoying as this.” As he continued speaking, his voice appeared to shift, gradually becoming identical to Lilith’s own, and as he taunted her, the chamber began filling rapidly with billows of a thick maroon mist, which seemed to engulf and corrode whatever it touched, and all of which seemed to be headed for Lilith.

-----

<Galactic Channel Alpha-47-Blue, News Broadcast>

“...the candidates for FSA Secretary-General were unavailable for comment. In other news, the Tanari Confederation’s election season continues to heat up, as incumbent president Silver Eachan pledged to introduce a series of measures designed to strengthen that empire’s notorious caste system if re-elected. The opposition candidate, former Ambassador to the Free Systems Alliance David Robert Jones, hit out at the plan, saying Eachan was now, quote, ‘a threat to our national security, our economic security and your family’s security’. At the same time, the complete results of the election on the Tanari colony of Yorak were announced yesterday evening. The incumbent Prime Minister of the colony, Neil Donovan, an opponent of President Eachan, emerged with an increased majority. He claimed his victory was a rejection of the President’s ‘divisive’ campaign, and warned that the President secretly planned to implement policies unpopular with many inhabitants of outlying Tanari worlds, such as the reintroduction of conscription, restrictions on movement between colonies, or economic sanctions on colonies that introduce regulations on certain industries. A spokesman for President Eachan strongly denied the existence of any such plans. And that’s the way it is. Now, time for sports with my friend Kranxx the Third.”

"Thank you, John. The first match of the Corrantia Cup took place today, and boy, was it a hell of a show! The Malchior II Panthers beat the Terugan D-Squad 56 to 48..."

-----

[ Church, Malchior IV ]

(Theme)

Salem sat alone, praying before the altar. He was praying for the soul of his brother, Juaréz, as well as the countless of lives that had been lost on that fateful day; even that of Krieger, who he and his brother had been ordered to kill. He was praying for guidance, having betrayed the instructions of Espiritu Santo and let Gaius Malcovus live. He was praying for protection, because men with plasma pistols were on their way to kill him.

Pasajem assassins in black business suits entered the church silently, making their way towards the altar, which Salem sat before, his silver suit glimmering in the torchlight. They surrounded him, aiming compact assassination pistols at his back.

"Gaius Malcovus sends his regards."

They fired into him - and immediately regretted it. Salem jerked forwards as some amount of the kinetic force of the plasma bolts transferred into his body - but the bolts themselves bounced off, reflected by the thermal weave of his suit. One of the Pasajem assassins went down, slain by his own plasma shot; before the others could quite comprehend what had happened, Salem sprung into action. The portion of Blackout's power that had been instilled within him was present - but he could no longer safely draw on it, and feared it would consume his soul if he tried, once it recognized his intentions no longer aligned with his former master's. In place of supernatural powers, Salem would instead need to turn to something far more reliable; a Colt 1911. In one swift motion he slid the pistol out of its underarm holster and fired once, twice, into one of assassin's chests and then a third time into his forehead, finishing him - Salem suspected Gaius's men would be stimmed up on combat drugs, and didn't trust that a single shot would do the job. A second assassin raised his pistol, aiming for Salem's head, but was quickly felled by a triple salvo of shots.  The final assassin produced a glimmering yellow energy blade from his wrist and swung towards Salem; Salem rolled forwards, under the assassin's swing, and then kicked the assassin from behind, throwing him forwards towards the altar. The assassin's neck landed on the sharp upper corner of the stone altar, crushing his windpipe; as he lay gasping, Salem finished him with the last round in the magazine.

He took a moment to collect himself, reloading his magazine, then made the sign of the cross towards his fallen enemies. They were victims in all this, just the same as he had been; pawns of vicious men with ill intent. As he did, more gunshots echoed out - not from within the church, but beyond. More violence, more chaos.

"No more."

He made his way towards the doors to the church, gun in hand. As he stepped outside, he saw a presidential-style limousine being attacked by a mysterious being, a guard and a terrified civilian cowering within it. He calmly stepped towards the carnage; not with ignorance to the danger posed, but with deliberate refusal to stand by in the face of further evil. An alien grenade had landed in the limousine; Salem reached out, his hand hovering inches from it. He took a breath.

Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.

He grabbed it, and with all his strength, threw it back towards the Espiritu Santo assassin.

---

[ Narayanastra, Reactor Chamber ]

A smirk formed on Shepard's face as he saw Lilith collapse, unconscious, defeated. From his perspective it looked farcical - like some kind of mime show, as the young woman was attacked and assailed by invisible illusory powers, but Shepard knew the powers his master held were very, very real.

It was still (pretty) funny to watch.

His amusement subsided as he turned, his attention shifting to rapid, metallic footsteps ringing out from the corridor behind him.

"Master - PsyTroopers. We should leave."

Shepard brought his submachinegun up and fired, loosing quick, controlled bursts down the corridor. Sparks illuminated the Psytroopers as they approached at full sprint, each flash like a still image of the ever-approaching killing machines. Futile. He instead flicked the safety on his undermounted grenade launcher and loosed a forty-millimetre high explosive shell towards them - and ran. He jumped off the walkway he was stood on, falling down into the cavernous pit at the bottom, before he flew upwards on faith alone, landing next to Lilith's unconscious body. He picked her up.

"I'll carry her, master. Vekhta, let's g-"

Fool.

Vekhta charged towards the corridor Shepard had just been standing at, beam saber in hand - just as a badly damaged PsyTrooper emerged. Its helmet had been blown off, and the left of half its face was missing - revealing flesh over a charred and blackened metallic skull. Its one remaining eye focused on Vekhta as she approached, and at that point, Shepard realized his new apprentice didn't stand a chance.

Vekhta had been a Warmaster of the Yuzari Order - a master swordsman who practiced a form of sword art so refined that it transcended the realm of utility and became an exercise in higher-level mathematics. In an instant, she had calculated the perfect, unavoidable, unblockable swing to bisect the PsyTrooper - but the problem was, the PsyTrooper knew she had already done that, and as such had a simple victory condition - change the maths in a way Vekhta couldn't account for. Vekhta swung down towards the PsyTrooper's centre of mass; the PsyTrooper turned to dodge, and at the last moment, detonated an explosive bolt located in its own left shoulder joint - severing its arm, reducing its mass, and propelling itself sideways. Vekhta's beam saber carried on downwards through the empty space where the Trooper's shoulder had been milliseconds ago; through a point in time and space that she had been mathematically certain the Trooper's shoulder had to be.

Shepard held out his hand, willing, focusing - offering up a dark trade to the void power residing within his body. The Psytrooper slowed, a dark shadow surrounding it, freezing it in place milliseconds before it decapitated Vekhta; a small sample of the power that came so brilliantly easily to Blackout, yet for Shepard represented a sacrifice of no less than ten years of his life expectancy. He fell to his knees, his body practically withering, yet retained his focus; all Vekhta needed was a single second. She took the advantage - driving her beam saber through the time-locked PsyTrooper's torso, bisecting it. Even as the two halves of it fell to the floor, she back-pedalled, half certain it would reanimate and kill her.

Shepard gasped for breath, then stood up, still cradling Lilith's unconscious body in his arms; with his strength withered to such an extent, she felt twice as heavy now as she had mere seconds ago. Vekhta leapfrogged across the control rods towards him and Blackout. She was scared. Good. That was the appropriate response to seeing a PsyTrooper. She had made a mistake, and it would teach her a lesson she would never forget.

"Let's waste no more time."

---

[ Tanari holo-net political broadcast ]

A scruffy-looked high school student strolled onto screen, a skateboard hung over his back.

"I was hoping to help my dad with his small business this summer, but President Jones says we all have to attend summer school to learn about civic values. His firm went bust - but at least I know the correct pronouns for the Shifters who bought him out at a rock-bottom price!"

Star wipe - a different colored background. The high school student was replaced by a depressed looking police officer.

"All I ever wanted to do was protect and serve, but I lost my job to some community engagement officer who's not even allowed to arrest anyone without their verbal consent. The syndicates are toasting President Jones - no-one's done more for the modern-day criminal than he has!"

Star wipe - again - and a new background. Now on screen was a homeless woman.

"My boy was sharing a classroom with a forty-year old shifter disguised as a kid - and when I tried to raise my concerns with his headteacher, I was called a bigot, and fired from my job! Cancel culture!"

Another star wipe - an elderly veteran was struggling to stand upright, leaning on his walking stick.

"We fought so hard for this great nation, but the Tiktaks needn't have bothered trying to invade us! Now that President Jones is in charge, he's accomplished exactly what Sefer was trying to do all those years ago. What did our boys in uniform lay down their lives for?"

A final star wipe. This time, it was just a man screaming into the camera, distraught. The image froze, and went greyscale; William Douglas Reed emerged onto the screen - revealing the previous image to have been projected onto a greenscreen curtain, which Reed parted.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I'm William Douglas Reed, host of TV's The Nation Continues. What you've just seen isn't the future - but it could be, if we let an un-Tanari traitor like David Robert Jones get into office. David Robert Jones is a socialist, who hates the hard-working, get-up-and-go attitude of the Tanari people that I've come to admire so much. His opponent, Silver Eachan, is a devoted servant of the people who knows exactly what it means to pull himself up by his own bootstrings. He knows better than anyone else that it's not for the government to tell you how to live your life-" he said, making an exaggerated pointing gesture towards the camera, "that's for you to decide. Vote Eachan - and the nation continues!"

<Hy'Dorel>

As the pair disembark, they are greeted by a firing squad, and a pair of men in suits with clipboards and white latex gloves.

The second of the two speaks up first, scribbling on his clipboard, not making eye contact.
"Greetings, and welcome to our planet! We've had a myriad of issues with spies, thieves, and mercenaries lately, so I do apology for the..." he motions behind him to the roughly three dozen heavily armed rent-a-cops, still not looking up from his paperwork, "ah, brutish salutation. Ideally this will only take a few minutes of your time before you can enjoy the splendor of our lands history Mr...." He flips pages twice, looking for something, "Stone, is it? Quite the fortuitous superlative for your field."
He then enters the ship to inspect it.

The first of the pair, who's been staring down Jorten the entire time, approaches with a stack of paperwork, indicating both verbally and physically where to sign, and a brief description of each signature's purpose. Ranging from declaration of stay length intention, proof of income, references to be called if something unfortunate should happen, proof of insurance, renouncement of all belongings in case of untimely demise in the ruins, declaration that all finds will be documented and presented to the local authorities before being removed from within. Standard stuff.

About three quarters of the way through such, the second of the two emerges, seemingly satisfied with his findings, "all in order and as expected."

-------

<Narayanastra, Reactor Chamber>

“No. There are still a few things to do, if we want to get out of here alive.” said Blackout, whose voice still sounded exactly like Lilith’s even though the fight was over, as he picked up the communicator the unconscious Lilith had on her person. “Attention, all units, this is Lilith Heyerdahl. Fall back to the PsyTrooper chamber at once and await further instructions from me. Over.”

“Hopefully that will clear our path for just long enough for us to leave.” he continued, as he cast two spells - the first of which made Lilith’s unconscious body float in the air and follow the three, and the second cloaked it from anyone other than them and changed Blackout’s own appearance to resemble Lilith.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Briscolaville CUSP Campaign Office>

The city of Briscolaville, traditionally dominated by finance capital, had been notorious for its support of Allmanism and had given two-thirds of its votes to Eachan in the last presidential election. Keeping turnout high, as well as banking donations from there was crucial if the election turned out to be close, making it a natural next stop for Eachan, Van Smoot, and Reed. They had stopped off at the local CUSP office to see Reed’s latest campaign ad (Van Smoot tried not to show that Reed putting himself front and centre in it irritated him), when they received an urgent call from a civil servant working in the President’s office, one Giorgio Camminatore Cespuglio.

“Donovan has got what?” Eachan yelled at the hologram of the mustachioed civil servant in front of him.

“It seems someone leaked him a copy of a joint memo by the Finance and Defence Ministries regarding potential emergency policies.” replied Giorgio. “He just waved it around at a press conference.”

“We can’t have this sort of bullshit going around.” Eachan turned to Reed. “What kind of defence can we put up in the media?”

“It’ll be hard. His people posted it on the holo-net soon afterwards. It has annotations in the margins. Looks like it, er, somehow came from your desk, Mr. President.”

“Oh, did it now?” Van Smoot suddenly piped up.

-----

[ Tanari Prime ]

Reed smirked.

"Mr. President, this is a fairly by-the-numbers campaign smear job. I can list half a dozen AI toolkits which could've been used to fake those 'handwritten annotations', most of which I've used myself. What's more concerning..." he said, looking to Van Smoot, "...is that we appear to have an impostor among us. We should vett your entire campaign staff; we can't have papers disappearing from your desk. As for this so-called leak - don't worry. The Jones campaign will soon be on the back foot again."

---

[ Trial of Khum Williams, Wilson City Supreme Court, Tanari Prime ]

"Your honour, my client would like to present his testimony."

"He may proceed".

Khum Williams stood up, clad in an orange jumpsuit, his wrists and ankles shackled. He was charged with attempted murder for the assassination attempt on William Douglas Reed; a charge his lawyers had been unsuccessfully arguing should be lowered to manslaughter, on the grounds that Mr. William's mental capacity was diminished by overt political messaging.

"Your honour, it has been speculated by both the media at large as well as many witnesses brought in to testify before this very court that I was unduly manipulated by the left-wing establishment into committing this act. That's not a determination for me to make; that is a decision for the jury to decide. The only decision I have left is whether to speak the truth or not, and I will now speak it."

He paused.

"Morgan Peres pursued a regime of blackmail and bribery to bend me to his will - to turn me from an unrefined student activist into a killer for his cause. I was seduced by the power and authority this man held, and by the cause him and I both believed in. It is a cause I still believe in. But once this man allowed me into his inner circle - and contrary to his protests, I was indeed a key component of his inner circle - I became subject to tortures no Tanari citizen ever should. He took control of my finances, and used his position to threaten harm on my friends and family should I ever act out against him. The reason for these-"

Counsel for the prosecution stood up. "This is absurd! This is unsubstantiated"

The judge overruled him (having been paid off by Reed), and allowed Peres to continue.

"The reason for these extreme measures was the extreme risk I posed to Peres if I ever went public with the information I knew, about the things I'd done for him. I have only agreed to speak because my counsel has successfully arranged for my friends and family to be relocated to a secure off-world location with mercenary protection. The time for the truth has come."

He paused.

"Morgan Peres used me as a go-between, to permit for clandestine communication between himself and his brother, Juan Peres... A New Order officer, and captain of the warship Geryon."

The gallery exploded into uproar; counsel for the prosecution burst from his seat, slamming his table. Williams's lawyer produced a laminated document showing a blurry picture of the supposed Captain Juan Peres; he handed it to the judge, and then produced another copy which he held aloft, allowing the gathered media to get a good look at it; within seconds the image was being shown across the holo-net. The judge slammed her gavel, calling for order, but she had lost control of the courtroom - Khum Williams turned to address the gallery. This was no longer a court case - this was a political hit.

"Morgan Peres co-ordinated with the New Order to provide weapons to radical Shifter rebels! Morgan Peres is a terrorist!"

Khum Williams was dragged to the ground by bailiffs, kicked and beaten, and then dragged away and out of the court room; his lawyer was arrested too. At the back of the gallery, a tall, thin man who had remained still and silent up until now produced a phone from his suit jacket, and with a smile slowly forming on his face, made a call to William Douglas Reed. William Douglas Reed, who hosted a late night talk show and produced goofy, tacky campaign commercials - and who certainly could never have arranged something like this.

<Bar on Iotunort>

Kristoffer Lake smiled and chuckled.

“No, my friends won’t be joining me for this one,” he clarified. “And yes! We can take my snow buggy, plenty of room. We can drive to a Zrujim entrance cave a few hours away from here. It might be a good place to start. Meet me outside once you’re packed and ready.”

Kristoffer finished his drink, rubbed his hands, then put his coat and mask back on. He nodded at the bartender, then went outside.

[If Lib decides to meet Kristoffer outside]

The two got into the buggy and set off. They drove for quite some time until they could see a snowy white cave in the distance.

Suddenly, Kristoffer cursed aloud and the vehicle halted. The staccato of lasers and guns filled the air as they could see the conflict between Aristotle Mutinta, Bijorn-Tar, Blizz, Tarvias Deep, and a group of New Order forces from afar.

“Damn it,” Kristoffer breathed. He reached for a rifle nearly tucked in a container in front of one of the back seats of his buggy. “Looks like we’ve run into the war after all. We either sit on the sidelines and hope none of them see us, or we pick a side...go in guns blazing. Pretend we’re their friends until we get into the caves, then find a way to lose them. What do you think, Lib?”

---

<Hy’Dorel>

The Malchiorian troops accompanying Bob and Jorten raised their arms up defensively, playing the parts of scholars and students quite well. They complied with any of the squad’s requirements.

Bob nodded at the second man’s inquiries.

“Thank you,” he replied with a slight smile. He nervously watched the man enter the ship to inspect it. He seemed to slightly sigh once he emerged from the ship.

Jorten filled out the form and smiled.

“I can give you my shirt size if you need it,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Nah, I’m just giving ya a hard time.”

Bob’s eyes slightly widened at Jorten, his body language trying to indicate to him to cut it out. He turned back to the guard that had inspected the ship and smiled.

“Thanks so much,” he replied. “Where should we head to from here?”

---

<Asukara System>

Many of the Pirates’ fighters and frigates were demolished by the Chrysaor and Geryon’s railguns. Some of the larger ships crashed on the surface of the Narayanstra, looking like flickering cigarettes.

The remaining ships returned fire on the Tygenian fleet. A small group of Liquid Metalliconite fighters made an attempt to hit the bridge of the Laconia.

Suddenly, three dreadnoughts that looked like massive red solar disks attached to golden wings rocketed in from hyperspace. It was an Amun Collective fleet.

After the meeting that planned the initial assault, Klak secretly sent information to the Amun Collective regarding the Naryanastra and their plans to either take it or destroy it. Klak offered the possibility of a joint assault as a way to mend their relations after their falling out at Vonilla. Pharaoh Osiris agreed, but not out of any newfound loyalty to the FSA. In truth, he wanted to use it to re-adjust the balance of power between the FSA and the New Order while the Collective could still decide its role in the galaxy, a position the Pharaoh planned to clarify to both the FSA and the New Order in future diplomatic meetings by using the talents of Abneris, one of the empire’s best emissaries.

General Ba-ta Khefru, an ape-headed alien, stood on the bridge of the central ship, known as the Ever Ra. He crossed his arms.

“All ships,” he said in a communication to the mercenary fleet. “The Anta Fleet has arrived. Glory to the Amun Collective and its Pharaoh.”

The Amun Collective ships all began to fire their solar-powered weaponry. A few fleets of fighter ships began to emerge from the Ever Ra’s hangers.  

One particular cruiser broke away from this fleet and flew up to the Naryanastra’s hangers. Out from it came a squadron of Amun Collective soldiers carrying laser sickles and rifles. They darted down the corridor in an attempt to find the other teams and provide support.


---

<Team Delta, Naryanastra>

Lalli grinned.

“Oh look, all it took for us to get along was a planet-destroying superweapon!” he quipped sarcastically. “I can feel the love already!”

When the group fought against the guards near the entrance, Lalli joined in as well, taking down several guards with his rifle. They then breached the command center.

“What exactly is the plan here, Hawkes?” Lalli shouted over the laser fire. He flung a thermal detonator grenade at a group of New Order ensigns nearby.

-

<Team Gamma, Narayanastra>

Quick Billy followed Herd Stir, Buckner, and the others into the large hatch. As they crawled through the tunnels, Quick Billy gritted his teeth.

“Freaking mind control gas?” he spat.

“Nothing for me to worry about,” Herd Stir replied, cheerily. “Sucks for those of you who have lungs though...sorry about that.”

Suddenly, a PsyTrooper screeched in front of them, charging through the tunnels. Herd Stir quickly pounced, their gelatinous body fully encasing the PsyTrooper in a blob. Sickening noises followed, and the PsyTrooper was soon crushed beneath its armor. Herd Stir reformed and formed a gooey tendril that pointed to their waypoint.

“Come on, keep going!” they whispered hurriedly.

-

<Team Beta, Narayanastra>

Onyx led the team to the railgun chamber. When the news about something being pumped through the life support or fire suppression chambers spread, she quietly reached for a suicide tooth inside of her pocket. If she were captured or somehow reached a point where she would inevitably be turned into a PsyGhoul, she would simply try to bite onto it, and...well, there would be quite the mess. But if the tooth malfunctioned, then her mind, full of secrets, would belong to the New Order...a ghastly fate she would fight to the death to avoid.

“Shit, I hope Hawkes and Kovacs are alright,” she muttered. “Look alive, ladies. Forget trying to keep it together, let’s blow this gun to hell and show those New Order Taks we mean business!”

A platoon of New Order soldiers stationed outside of the railgun chamber suddenly came rushing at them. Regina retreated to the back of the group and started taking out many of them one by one using her sniper rifle. Onyx did the opposite, charging headfirst into the group. She grabbed an enemy, stabbed him twice, then used him as a body shield as she fired at the others.


-

<Team Alpha, Narayanastra>

“Yeesh, alright,” Fourteen whispered.

The Shadow Operative pressed a button on the side of his helmet which activated a filtration system, just in case Kovacs and Hawkes were right.

“What’s this about Tygenians?” a Malchiorian trooper asked. “Whose side are they supposed to be on?”

“Nevermind that,” The Shadow Operative hissed. “We’ll discuss Domino later. Let’s get through this tunnel, it’ll lead us straight to the reactors.

Some time passed, and the team suddenly found themselves in a corridor full of the PsyTroopers Shepard had just obliterated.

“What the bloody hell…” Fourteen breathed as the team strafed the room. They would soon find Vekhta and the others.

-

<Akzer’s Mind, Narayanastra>

Akzer strained as he mentally experienced the pain of being shot once again. He turned to Blackout and stared, his mind racing.

“I want power, Blackout,” he replied succinctly. “Ozar has grown fat off the riches that we have toiled to win. Ozar is too busy keeping greatness down and keeping the best to himself...His ambivalence cost him, and it took the combined efforts of myself, Ciro, and Veyelan to even hope of fending the New Order and the Liquid-Metalliconite government off...and we got lucky…. Ozar lacks vision...I’d use our new deal with the FSA to expand. We can go everywhere, like Breaker space! Who gives a damn about our treaty anyway? I’ll expand the Pirate Lords’ reach everywhere...even the Amun Collective! The Pirate Lords will get a new Golden Age...and I’ll be in charge of it all. The criminal underworld in the galaxy will be mine. And any Pirate Lord who would rather stand aside will be taken care of. Like Keichi…”

Akzer kneeled down and slammed his fist into the ground, cursing in Liquid-Metalliconite.

“[That rotten bastard]! He knows he’ll never be the head, so he’s content with cutting down anyone who gets on his nerves,” Akzer spat. “That’s another thing I want, Blackout. Revenge.”

He gazed up at Blackout, still uncertain whether any of this was real.

“Whether you’re what you say you are...or if you’re secretly the undertaker, or the Qrelas’itz, or some other kind of god…why are you so interested, anyway?”

---

<Mayor Lundby’s Office, Yari III>

“Absolutely!” ‘Taloran’ replied cheerily. “Let’s do lunch. I’d also love to go over some things in my notes with you. Mayor Lundby, truly a pleasure!”

Rain stood up and began to follow Aster out the door. He reached his hand into his pocket, preparing to prime a small communication jamming device for the upcoming conversation.

-

<Von Budberg’s Office, Yari III>

Raven nodded.

“Very well, sir,” he affirmed. “No cataxyn.”

A slight smile flickered across Raven’s face as he watched Von Budberg complete the list.

“Thank you, Herr Prime Minister. Please, do let us know if there is anything else you might need.”

---

<Near Anh-Dante Cemetery, Malchior IV>

Dr. Vell stared at Salem, eyes widened in shock at the grenade and the sudden appearance of his hero.

-

<Presidential Palace, Malchior IV>

Emily, the President’s Chief of Staff, sauntered up to the Vrai Ambassador.

“Mr. Ambassador, such a pleasure. Please, join me in my office! The Vice President will be with us shortly,” she greeted.

-

<DRJ’s Ship, Malchior IV>

Treveya’s device quickly picked up Jones’ statement. The Fauld’him New Order commander smiled to herself as she left. Jones had given her a golden egg. In truth, it was not her primary reason for coming to the campaign announcement, but it was a great bonus in addition to her current mission. The New Order was no friend of Eachan, but a Jones victory could lead to a stronger Tanari, and a stronger FSA, so Treveya believed that a Jones loss would be in the Emperor's best interest.

As her transport cruiser undocked, she pressed a few buttons on her communication device and sent a message to both Silver Eachan and William Douglas Reed that contained the recording. She also included a text message that stated:

“Mr. Eachan and Mr. Reed. You do not know me, but at the moment our interests are aligned. Call this the start of a new relationship. I may send more gifts, and one day, you will give me something in return. Your Friend, T.Q..”

-

<Holo-News Broadcast, Malchior IV>

As crews work to clear the rubble and plans begin to make repairs, the Free Systems Alliance prepares to meet soon for its Secretary-General vote. Pundits and commentators were surprised as a remote vote declared that the elections would resume inside of the FSA assembly chambers despite the attack on the FSA, with retired Secretary-General Heller Heckardeen and Acting Secretary-General Vanna M'orv stated that persevering is what Krieger and the other victims of the attack would have wanted. Delegates have come far and wide from Member Worlds, including the Vykonian government-in-exile. No word yet on who the Tanari ambassador will be, and whether Jones will visit the chambers regardless.
Meanwhile, observer states and entities have also sent delegates of their own. Rumors are that there will be observers from the Heyerdahl Corporation of Ordon V, as well as delegates from some of the corporations of the Xazari State will be present. Some also say that the Vongolan People’s Republic, which is currently at war with the FSA-aligned Vongolan rebellion, will also send an observer. Now over to Peter O'Hanraha'harahan for more coverage.

-

A rock-like alien man stood on the rooftop of a hotel in Sixrings Dunjon City. He wore a grey hat, matching trench coat, and black pants. The winds blew through, ruffling the coat’s edges as he gazed into the distance, watching the crews working to clear the rubble at the FSA HQ.

The man originally had a name from his native language, but many years ago, he took on the name “Bourbon” as an appreciation for Earth’s French culture. It was fate perhaps that a Francophile like Bourbon would wind up working with Melchias Apolion, the CEO of Apolion Industries (a Xazari State corporation) who traced his lineage to France. Bourbon worked in the company’s public affairs department, having previously acted as a “fixer” for Apolion. He had been tasked with observing and reporting on the FSA Secretary-General election to further Apolion’s own shadowy goals.

He reached for a holo-communicator, and the hologram of Melchias Apolion shimmered to life.

“Monsieur Apolion,” Bourbon spoke with a deep voice. “I have arrived on Malchior.”

“Good, Bourbon, good,” Melchias Apolion replied, grinning. “Glad to hear it. Looking forward to your report. The vote should be interesting.”

“Just to clarify, sir,” Bourbon replied. “Are we endorsing anyone in particular?”

“I’m not sure what the position of the Xazari State is,” Apolion sighed. “But you remember our official statement.”

“We, like our Xazari partners, stand behind the democratic process while remaining neutral, and look forward to working with the victor to further business opportunities in FSA space.” Bourbon recited.

“In case anything changes, you’ll know what to do,” Melchias enunciated, referring to Brianna’s meeting with Russello. “Whoever wins will help us determine what phase to move into in our plan.”

Melchias’s visage darkened.

“It’s time for a change in Xazari, and I need to know who is an ally...and who is an enemy.”

Melchias suddenly smiled and pointed at Bourbon.

“For now, keep on keeping on, alright?” Melchias pointed with a smile. “Great speaking to you!”

“You as well, Monsieur Bourbon. I will see to it,” Bourbon pledged.

The hologram disappeared, and Bourbon turned around. He made his way to the door, where a waiter carrying a tray and some champagne was waiting for him.

---

<City of Sards, Vongola>

A puzzled look spread across Joshua’s face.

“That’s the thing,” he mused. “Our scans say that there’s no place anywhere on the entire planet with that name. At least...no place on our network or in the VPR’s networks. It’s either off-world, or we’re dealing with a new player. Probably a new VPR squadron, unless….”

Joshua paused, briefly considering the possibility. He shook his head, seeming to dismiss it.

“No, no, it can’t be.”

-

<Neres, VPR, Vongola>

A large screen displaying the governor’s face stood behind a statue of Uteriach that stood in the city square. The governor’s voice blared as rain dripped throughout the city.

“...And for this reason, you must be vigilant! Those who stand against our revolution are hungry for blood, and they will twist the minds of anyone to get it. To keep all of us safe, and to keep the revolution alive, you must report any suspicious behavior to your local Ministry of Unity and Revolution office. We can stop any dissident attacks on Neres in their tracks, but we must all do our part. We Stand United!”

A Neres City Police Department detective trudged along the edge of the square, nodding at the propaganda screen. She adjusted her jacket as she walked past the holographic police tape that surrounded a nearby building. The detective nodded at each officer as she entered the building.

She surveyed the scene of the brutal massacre. Bodies of VPR partisans everywhere. Written in their blood was a message on the wall. Once upon a time, she would have recoiled at such a grisly sight. But now she was too hardened.  

“What the hell happened here?” she inquired.

An officer walked up to her and cleared his throat.

“Detective, good to see you,” he greeted. “Seems like a raid. Our scans seem to indicate anyone who wasn’t killed in the battle was executed shortly thereafter. We think it might be a political hit; the victims were all part of the local chapter of the Young Partisans for Vongola.”

“A rebel hit this far beyond the battlefields?” the detective mused. “Seems strange.”

“Maybe so, or it’s some sick twisted monster,” the officer posited.

The detective stared at the inscription on the wall.

“Make sure to get pictures of all this…” she ordered. “We need to investigate further. Could be a huge clue.”

The detective continued to stare, puzzled at the inscription.

“Pandemonium regnat,” she read aloud.

[ OBS Laconia, Asukara System ]

What the Laconia-class lacked in offensive capability, it more than made up for by possessing one of the most advanced defensive systems ever fitted to an active duty warship. Like all New Order vessels it lacked an AI core - instead possessing a quad-linked 'Biological CPU'; four 'reject' PsyTroopers were permanently hardwired into a computational array, supported by various 'dumb' virtual intelligences possessed of no inherent learning capability, and were tasked with the administration and oversight of every area of ship functionality ordinarily delegated to AI control on a more conventional vessel.

On a standard New Order vessel, the Biological CPU might control a defensive armament consisting of multiple point defence cannons as well as various electronic countermeasures; on a Laconia-class, this defensive armament consisted of no less than forty-eight point defense cannons, a networked suite of four low-yield turreted railguns firing stealth-coated tungsten projectiles, a full complement of guided interceptor missiles and a hypercomplex electronic warfare suite. As the Liquid Metalliconite fighters approached, the Biological CPU immediately allocated targets to the various defensive armaments and within seconds these fighters were destroyed - all without necessitating the involvement or acknowledgement of the ship's crew, who were busy re-orienting the fleet into a new defensive posture as the Amun fleet approached.

Admiral Baudouin broadcast a message to the Amun fleet, his masked face appearing on their viewscreens.

"Amun fleet, this is Admiral Hans Baudouin of the New Order warship Laconia. Your presence here constitutes an act of war against the New Order. You are instructed to immediately withdraw, or you will be destroyed."

With a gesture, Admiral Baudouin signalled for the patrol destroyer Assassin and the corvettes Prophet and Bishop to pull back from the engagement with the mercenary fleet, repositioning to engage the Amun fleet instead.

---

[ Narayanastra, Hangar ]

Ben Kovacs watched as the PsyGhouls paused, before staging a retreat from the hangar, leaving a small number of their kind to draw fire so the others could escape. A sickening realization occurred to him - these monstrosities weren't mindless creatures, but somehow co-coordinating their actions and responding to some chain of command.

---

[ Narayanastra, Corridor ]

Admiral Di-Jonn Massa turned the corner and came face to face with the notorious Herd Stir and the rest of Team Gamma. Quickly realizing he was outnumbered, he raised his hands in surrender... before dozens of PsyTroopers emerged into the corridor, making their way to the PsyTrooper chamber as per the orders of "Lilith". He grinned.

"Your lives... will be over shortly. Long live... the New Order."

---

[ Hacienda Gerrerra, Sukhonia, Tanari Conferederacy ]

Don Saul Gerrerra sat comfortably at his poolside table, his gaze loosely fixated on the rippling water as it glistened in the afternoon sun. The downwash of an approaching dropship stirred up the surface of pool, and Don Saul grinned as he saw it touch down in the courtyard of his estate. William Douglas Reed emerged, flanked by his bodyguard, a mysterious Tanari known only as 'Le Shark'. Reed made his way to the poolside table, and reached out to shake Saul Gerrerra's hand.

"Don Saul."

"William Douglas Reed. It is about time one of you fancy politicians from the inner worlds came to speak to me out here, face-to-face, man-to-man."

Reed unbuttoned his jacket, and sat down across from Don Saul. Saul was not what Reed expected - rather than looking like a hardened crime boss, Saul instead had an almost comical appearance - never seen without his sunglasses, his face fixed in a seemingly permanent grin. Still; appearance mattered little when it came to Shifters, and Don Saul most certainly was a hardened crime boss. In the time before Allman's premiership, Gerrerra had been a Shifter freedom fighter, leading an extremist organization known as the Front for Armed Resistance and Shifter Independence - an organization responsible for a campaign of bombings and assassinations throughout the confederacy. After a crushing defeat during a skirmish with the droid forces of the Tanari central government, Saul was widely believed to have suffered a mental breakdown, or to quote Allman at the time, "simply stopped giving a heck".

The Front for Armed Resistance and Shifter Independence morphed, seemingly overnight, into the notorious Gerrerra cartel, no longer concerned with creating a better situation for Shifters - but instead with milking the existing situation for all it was worth. The restrictions on Shifters created a bountiful black market for medicine, drugs, and trafficking services, and Don Saul quickly cornered the market on all three - offering his opponents a choice of silver or lead. Most, unsurprisingly, chose the former. Disorganized gangbangers and poorly-motivated mercenaries were no match for the trained sicarios of the Gerrerra cartel who had honed their skills fighting against the professional forces of the Tanari central government.

And all that had led to the current situation, in all its bizarreness; Reed was sat across from the one Shifter in the confederacy who stood to lose out if Jones got into power, and subsequently improved living conditions for Shifters.

"Let's talk business."

Don Saul took a puff of a cigar, then spoke in response.

"I want your candidate to commit to no reduction in restrictions for manufacture and supply of drugs, and no change in freedom of movement rules."

"Drugs, but not medicine. The limitations on legitimate Shifter medicine are proving increasingly unpopular. I can't tie down Eachan's legislative agenda moving forwards."

"Then no deal."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a third candidate in this race that I'm unaware of? Either Eachan wins, in which case you might lose your stranglehold on Shifter medicine, or Jones wins, in which case you definitely lose all your strangleholds."

Don Saul grinned. "Just testing you, compa."

Reed sighed. "What else?"

"My business associates on Liquid Metallicon and Vesa Qatoria are having increasing difficulty getting their product through to Sukhonia. I want a reduction in border patrols."

"That's something you'll have to take up with the Sukhondese government - it's not a federal matter."

"The funding of it is. The regional government's got it in for me, anyway."

"I can't imagine why."

Saul chuckled. "You speak so boldly in my presence. It's refreshing."

"And as for your end of the bargain - you tell me your sicarios are the best?"

"You be the judge."

The surface of the pool stirred again - but this time, there was no gust of wind to motivate it. It rippled and rose, a column of water climbing out of the pool and standing upright by the poolside, morphing into a humanoid shape - within seconds it had adopted the appearance a blonde human woman. Reed looked aghast at the pool as more Shifters emerged from it - Shifters who had perfectly disguised themselves as water itself, contrary to his understanding of the limitations of their abilities. Reed fell backwards on his chair as the table he had been sitting at began to morph - then the chair itself. He crawled backwards, Le Shark helping him to his feet, his face pale. Don Saul grinned.

"Will they do, Don Will?"

Reed collected himself, then, taking in the sight of the elite Shifter sicarios surrounding him, began to grin.

"Yes, Don Saul. I suspect that they will."

<Naranayastra, Team Delta>

Ashton threw another electric disc at the last remaining few New Order troops in the room, electrocuting them to death. As he did so, he pondered on the fact that it wouldn’t have been too hard to throw it in a way that would have gotten Lalli as well, and it would have just looked like an unfortunate accident. Hawkes didn’t look like the sort of military man who gave a damn about mercenaries. But no - Ashton was a man of his word. And Amanda, Pes, or Regina presumably wouldn’t like it very much either.

Satisfied that they were now in control, he pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Team Delta to strike force. CIC looks secure. Over.” He pulled a lever by the entrance, closing the blast doors and hopefully keeping any reinforcements at bay for a while.

Colonel Hawkes tipped the dead crewman who had been instructed to close the blast shutters out of his chair and sat down. He laughed at the instruction from Massa still displayed on the screen, realising just how close they had come to total failure. “First of all, find the environmental controls! Let’s see if we can turn off whatever’s generating their zombies.” He began to scroll through the menu and type in various commands to see if they would work, and as he did so, his bionic arm actually began to glow slightly, the technology contained within interfacing with the Narayanastra’s systems and downloading information from them.

Ashton walked up to a random panel, which turned out to be controlling the internal sensors. “Looks like a big crowd at the PsyTrooper chamber all of a sudden. The hell is going on there?” he said.

CIC having particularly thick walls, none of them seemed to be aware of the battle between Yenot and Arc Judmon raging behind one of the blast doors.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Beta>

Amanda joined Regina at the back, using her own rifle to harass their foes. “So, how have you been?” she suddenly asked her, while at the same time crippling several New Order troopers by shooting them in both legs one after the other, leaving them sitting ducks.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Alpha>

“I sense others coming…” Blackout suddenly said to Vekhta and Shepard. “Time to proceed with the next step of my little PsyTrooper experiment. I’ll be back in a moment, I trust you two can handle yourselves.”

He vanished, leaving Vekhta, Shepard and Lilith just as Team Alpha came round the corner. “Oh, you two.” one Malchiorian trooper who vaguely recognised them from the rendezvous point said to them. “Is the coast clear?”

Pes thought he could sense a slight presence in the area that didn’t seem to be any of Vekhta, Shepard, or Team Alpha, but as it was at a low ebb and he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary (Lilith being unconscious and invisible), he decided it could just be the echo of a dying soldier or something. “Alright, people, let’s secure the reactor!” he yelled.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Gamma>

Hoping that the appearance of that one PsyTrooper didn’t mean they were already too late, Lt. Buckner ran, until the team reached what appeared to be a dead end. He glanced down at his small holographic map of the tunnels, and surmised that they had reached their destination. He opened the hatch above him, allowing Team Gamma to exit into the PsyTrooper chamber, but as soon as they stuck their heads out, they came face-to-face with Di-Jonn Massa and a large number of very much active PsyTroopers.

“Oh shit.” he muttered. He reached into his bag in the hopes of quickly wiring all the explosives in his bag to blow so he could throw it at their enemies and Team Gamma could escape back into the tunnels, but stopped when he saw Lilith Heyerdahl enter the room.

“Hold your fire!” “Lilith”/Blackout said. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, Admiral?”

-----

<Narayanastra, Akzer’s Mind>

“I care because the lonely rage of one who has been denied something important is one of the most powerful forces in the universe.” Blackout said. “I have been denied a great deal, Akzer. The men and women behind the war that has brought you to this place are complicit in the extinction of my race. When I, one day, go, the last memories of everyone I’ve ever loved, and the last memories of a civilization that spanned a million years will all go with me. I will drag them down into chaos and force them to stand among the burning rubble of their dreams even if it’s the last thing I do. But for men like you, chaos is an opportunity. We could work well together. I have the power to save you from the brink of death, even allow you to return stronger than ever before, seek vengeance against your rivals and expand the Pirate Lords’ power in accordance with your vision, and all I ask in exchange is an occasional favour.”

-----

<Yari III, Andromeda Hotel>

A short walk brought Aster and Rain to the Andromeda Hotel, where they - or, well, Aster and Kirsten - were meant to be staying the night. “Hi, my name is Aster, and this is Taloran Kite. I think a reservation has been made in my name and Kirsten Bluth’s?” Aster said to the receptionist.

The receptionist typed at her computer a bit. “Errrr, yes, there is a booking, but only for two, Aster...” A loud noise coming from the restaurant right behind the reception drowned out Aster’s surname. “And Miss Bluth. Has there been a change?”

“No, no, Miss Bluth is still coming too. There must have been a mix-up at the office, there are three of us.”

“Right.” The receptionist was visibly confused. She typed some more. “We’re actually quite short on rooms at the moment, but I could upgrade you and Mr. Kite to the honeymoon suite.”

Aster’s internal monologue began vomiting swearwords. “Is there absolutely no other option?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. We will need to tidy it a bit first though.”

“Very well.” Aster tried not to visibly grit her teeth. She turned to Rain. “Shall we get lunch while they sort this out?” She walked through the door next to the reception desk and into the hotel’s alfresco restaurant, wherein the two were led to a free table. Aster began perusing the menu, which Rain could note was split into two sections, one of which was labeled ‘For Shifters’ and contained a very similar selection of dishes to the other section, except the Shifter dishes were uniformly much spicier.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” Aster said. “Actually, no, I have one question to ask you first. Allman fell years ago and Malchior has only become less and less interested in Tanari internal affairs since then, not that you were particularly interested in the first place after the New Order appeared, which is how we got a rushed mess of a constitution and Silver Eachan. So we can discount a sudden surge of interest in the Shifter cause on Klak and Nadle’s part. That, and a few other things that have happened to me recently, leave one other possibility. What does the word ‘Blackout’ mean to you?”

-----

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

“I will.” Von Budberg also nodded. “Good day, gentlemen.”

“Good day, Prime Minister,” said Paul. “Come, Raven. Siper and Igor have some things to show us.”

-----

<Just Outside the Yari System>

Richard and Vlad sat at the back of the ship, grumbling. They had been travelling for what felt like a full day, cloaked and at sunlight speeds to avoid being noticed by any of the Tanari ships or defence systems around Yari, and whenever they asked Cedric Av-Kartin what was so important as to justify dragging them all the way out there he only told them to ‘wait and see’.

Finally, they arrived near an asteroid sitting at the edge of the nebula near the Yari system. Its location was both a blessing and a curse - it made navigation for any unsuspecting attackers much more difficult, but also disrupted Tanari sensors to some extent and could provide a hiding place for a more prepared adversary. “We’ve arrived. Come.” Cedric said to the two annoyed Shifters.

Right in front of them, two New Order Gideon-class patrol destroyers parked on the asteroid briefly decloaked for just long enough that they could see them, then recloaked again.

“Mr. Branley, Mr. Sobchak,” he addressed Richard and Vladimir respectively. “This is our pièce de résistance. Once we have freed this system, these Gideon-class ships will help prevent a Tanari incursion from crushing your beachhead.”

“I did tell you this was something worth waiting for, gentlemen.”

-----

<City of Sards, Vongola>

“What, Joshua? Who do you think it could be?” Kane pressed on.

-----

<Malchior IV, Near Anh-Dante Cemetery>

The assassin’s eyes widened as the grenade flew back at him, almost paralysed by the sudden reversal of the situation. The very last thing he would do before the grenade exploded and ripped him to pieces would be to look at Salem and begin to curse.

Before they could celebrate their victory, however, a portal opened in front of the limo, and Blackout, still indistinguishable from Lilith Heyerdahl, stepped out. On the way back from the Narayanastra, he’d been alerted to the destruction of the small portion of Void Magic he’d instilled within the assassin, and decided to immediately investigate - and finish the job himself, if necessary.

He quickly surveyed the scene. “Well, well, well. I see it’s true that if you want something to do right, you should do it yourself.” ‘Lilith’ said.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Briscolaville>

“What the hell?” Silver Eachan thought to himself upon listening to the recording. A recording of Jones talking about Tanari society in such terms - and even using the word ‘Stäbil’, widely considered a slur among Stäbils themselves, would make great fodder for his base, whether it was real or merely convincing enough to sound real. He’d have to discuss with Reed what the best way to leak this would be. He tried to call the device that had sent him this recording, hoping to ask them who they were.

-----

<Yari III, Inquisitor Karol’s Ship>

The results of Inquisitor Karol’s meeting with Father Hirana were rather mixed, all told. As far as his offer to the Homecoming Church was concerned, he’d extracted nothing more than a promise from Hirana to put his proposal to the rest of the Church and let him know what they decided. He had, however, obtained the frequency the Church used to contact the Coldest Story Ever Told, and was now beginning to record the message he would send to them.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

A random crewman approached Praxter, Sally, Wareshu, and Tayne in the bar. “I’m very sorry, Captain, but you’re really going to want to see this. We got this message on the Church frequency, of all things.” He handed Praxter a small holo-disc and walked away.

Praxter sighed. More moralising from one of the priests back in the Tanari Confederacy, no doubt. He didn’t really buy into the Homecoming religion - he always felt that the only meaning in life was what you made of it yourself - but they had enough of a presence on-board that he cooperated with them. He placed the disc down on the table, and activated it. It projected a small hologram of Inquisitor Karol.

“This is Inquisitor Karol of the Vrai Empire to Captain Praxter of the Coldest Story Ever Told. I have been allowed by Father Hirana to contact you through this frequency to make you an offer…”

“What the hell?” he muttered, as the message continued.

“...the Empire wishes to create a new bloc, separate from the senseless violence and self-serving power struggles that dominate the galaxy today. A well-defended bloc which will allow ordinary people to live in peace. A coalition for order and progress throughout the galaxy. We have heard of what you have achieved and admire it very much. While we respect your desire to remain independent should you maintain it, we would like to ask you if you would wish to become one of the founding members of that bloc.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sally said. “Where the fuck does this guy get off? Trying to turn us into an extension of the Vrai Empire? Since when do they care what happens outside their borders, anyway?”

-----

<Malchior IV, Presidential Palace>

The Vrai Ambassador followed Emily into her office. As he did so, he slightly adjusted the brass ring on one of his long, bony fingers. He wore many rings on almost all his fingers, and all of them looked innocuous enough, but all of them had a special power of some sort  - in the case of the one he had just activated, it would disrupt any attempt to record the conversations he was about to have, should there be one. In his head, he went through the sales pitch he was about to give the Malchiorian Vice President, which was much like the one, unbeknownst to the Ambassador, Karol had just given the Coldest Story Ever Told, but put much more emphasis on the dysfunction of the FSA, which was not only now facing a choice between Evangelise Ascheron, the inheritor of the Lurian fascist regime who didn’t appear to have much of an interest in reforms, and Gaius Malcovus, who was half-Dachori - and, of course, any student of history knew how dangerous the Dachori were - but also forced the Malchiorians to pin their hopes mostly on the Lurians and the Tanari, who were themselves rarely more than a few steps from descending back into authoritarianism.

-----

<Xazari Space>

At the same time, somewhere in Xazari space, yet another Vrai inquisitor was making much the same pitch to a Xazari corporation, except his pitch was even more specific - it proposed a joint business venture between the Vrai and the Xazari - a vast shell company which would funnel weapons, supplies, and capital to those who wished to join their Order and Progress Coalition but either faced problems of a military nature in doing so or urgently required investment to build up their economies.

-----

<Yorak, Beachfront>

Morgan Peres was tired. As soon as he and Jones had landed on Yorak to visit Prime Minister Donovan, he had been besieged by journalists asking about the latest development in the insane Khum Williams saga, and forced to repeat the pre-agreed line (which had the benefit of being accurate) that he was innocent of all these charges, that his only sibling had been shot down piloting a bomber during the war with the Takemikazuchi and that he was happy to publish his original long-form birth certificate to prove this, and that he ‘hoped that President Eachan’s crooked administration had not yet corrupted Tanari institutions to the point where such an obviously politically motivated set-up could be given credence’.

Morgan could respect a good old-fashioned ratfucking, some of the stuff Eachan had thrown at him last election was quite clever and he’d even used it as inspiration for some of his lines of attack this time round, but at the end of the day, he was mostly just confused as to why Reed had decided to go with such a convoluted and seemingly transparently ridiculous story. It wasn’t as though the words ‘crooked’ or ‘ruthless’ came up that often in the focus groups to describe Peres up until now, at least not more so than for any other career politician. Surely it couldn’t work.

Taking advantage of a gap in his schedule, Morgan decided to go on a short walk along a nearby beach to clear his head. He refused to allow bodyguards to accompany him, which caused an almighty row with the head of security, but a compromise was eventually found where a small, armed drone would fly overhead instead.

As he stopped to look at the sea and take in the sound of the crashing waves, a hooded figure approached him. “Hello, old friend.” it said. “Don’t turn around. I’ve changed my appearance since the last time we saw each other. I’d rather you weren’t able to describe me before we’ve concluded our business.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Z-Zaragoza? I thought you’d decided to never return to the Confederation.”

“That’s ancient history. The Pirate Lords operate semi-legally within the FSA now. I couldn’t possibly leave that much money on the table.”

“I paid off my debt to you years ago, Desmond. Long before the war, even. We have no business together. Fuck off, now.”

“Ah, but I am now legitimate, a treaty ally even, and you are about to be Vice President. Consider the possibilities.”

“I said, no.”

“When you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“When you change your mind, call New Dawn Amalgamated on Tanari Prime and ask for Mr. Black. Friends don’t leave friends behind.” Desmond Zaragoza smiled and walked away.

Yes, thus far, the word ‘crooked’ didn’t come up that often in the focus groups to describe Morgan Peres.

-----

<Yari III, Old Saskana Town>

Peter North sat on the patio of his villa on the outskirts of the town of Old Saskana, taking in the air, the peculiar tint of the sky due to the presence of the nearby nebula, the view of his garden - all the things he missed back on Tanari Prime. As soon as he’d found out Eachan was dropping him from the ticket in favour of that murderous relic Van Smoot, he’d thrown his hat into the ring for the nomination contest for the vacant seat in Parliament that covered the part of the town neighbouring Old Saskana where the Stäbil landowners (as opposed to their Shifter and poorer Stäbil workers) lived in order to have a job that allowed him to be home with his husband much more often while also retaining some political influence, and thanks to his profile, was waved through.

Peter had never really been a natural politician. He’d spent most of his career in business and voted Progressive on the few occasions when he even bothered voting, and during the war, he organised relief efforts for civilians displaced by the Takemikazuchi armies. This latter activity massively boosted his profile, and when Eachan was putting together his first presidential campaign, he asked Peter, now a well-liked non-partisan figure, to be his running mate, promising him sweeping influence over diplomacy and interstellar aid policy. It hadn’t really worked out as well as he’d hoped, and, as soon as Reed had joined Eachan’s campaign and began steering it towards hard-right populism, he regretted not just retiring outright. Spite being a powerful motivator, however, he did set up a few ways to get revenge on Eachan, including giving his wife a sorely-needed escape route (one he’d figured out the existence of essentially by accident) and leaking a few documents to Neil Donovan just before going back to Yari III, where he hoped he could fade into the background - as he’d managed to do during his entire, sad, political career.

He began to wonder what more he could possibly do now that he’d seemingly unwittingly shackled himself to the CUSP ship just as it was going down, but once he saw his husband emerging from their house with a bottle of wine, he decided there’d be time to think about that later.

-----

<Yari III, Mayor Lundby’s Office>

“Good afternoon, Mrs Lundby.” Blair Morrison said, sitting down across from the Mayor. His peculiar accent was somehow even thicker than Anna Lundby had heard.

“Mr. Morrison.” Lundby said coldly. “What exactly brings you here? I started to get the impression being seen with an MRF mayor was somewhat frowned upon in Yari high society.”

“It’s not popular, perhaps.” Blair replied. “But business is business. And I am a progressive businessman. I adapt to changing circumstances. And right now, ma’am, you are the changing circumstances.”

“So you’re covering all the bases in case I become Prime Minister, is that it?”

“I’m pretty sure you will, ma’am. Which is why I’m here. I understand you will want to introduce many reforms to labour law and all that sort of thing...”

“Yes, of course.” Anna’s voice was withering. “To tackle the sort of abuses that occur in your companies, among others.”

“Ma’am, the Bristol Corporation provides some of the best working environments on this planet.”

“I’ve worked for Bristol. That’s certainly not my experience.”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I’m actually here to meet you halfway. I wanted to make a very generous offer.”

Anna sat back in her chair. “I’m listening.”

“A working group. Me and a few other representatives of the Yari business community on the one side, you and a few other MRF and Liberal representatives and trade unionists or whatever on the other. We can talk about sanding off any... rough edges, so to speak, and in exchange, we’ll be the first ones to implement it. A good example to the rest of the business world.”

“Mr. Morrison, my party believes in equality before the law. A belief I happen to share. I’m not going to pick winners, especially not when they’re as unethical and as unpopular with my constituents as you and Bristol are… and when I suspect we have a very different understanding of what ‘rough edges’ means.”

Blair Morrison was not a man used to hearing the word ‘no’. “Don’t make a hasty decision you might regret, Mrs. Lundby. I’m not someone you’d like to go to war with… especially when we could sort this out over dinner instead.” he said.

“While I’m sure the mental image of that would just amuse my husband more than anything else… My answer is still no.” Anna said sternly. “This meeting is over, Mr. Morrison.”

“Very well.” Blair stood up and began to leave. “I guess I’ll just have to sort this out some other way.” He headed out of the building and into his limo, wherein he sent a few texts and then proceeded to make a call to one William Douglas Reed.

-----

[ Malchior, Malchior System ]

"President Klak." The dark-feathered female gryphon, clad in an elegant designer business suit, greets the man as the holoview depicts her among a small group of other richly-dressed individuals, each projecting a certain air of authirty as they attend the meeting individually from different locations. "A pleasure to meet the acquaintance of the man who leads the galaxy's last hope for freedom and prosperity.

"While normally I would express my sincerest wishes of luck to the coming negotiations, I'm afraid the current circumstances do not warrant that." The gryphon continues smoothly, a tone of regret carefully injected into her rhetoric as she delivers to Klak the next bit of information. "You see, President Klak, there never was any accords planned with the FSA to begin with."

-------

[Base Theta, Iotunort]

Blizz was already diving for cover even before Mutinta had opened his mouth in warning, the faestir's survival instinct honed by a life of close calls and near-death experiences typical of her space scavenger lifestyle.

As rounds pinged onto the rock she is taking cover behind, the freelancer rummaged into one of her many utility pouches, muttering frantically to herself before triumphantly producing two random grenades, one possibly being incendiary while the other perhaps a high explosive of some design, which she wasted no time arming and lobbing in the general direction of the enemies.

-------

[ The Narayanastra, Team Alpha ]

Two now.

404 didn't miss the suspicious looks Fourteen had sent her way. She again runs the mental calculations on the chances she would succeed in dispatching the two without the rest of the team becoming hostile.

12 - 31%. Odds too low.

One was bad enough, but the presence of two unknown quantities within the team that seems to be immune to her psionic powers, and possibly detect them, could become a serious threat to her mission. The agent resolves to keep a wary eye on them, outwardly nodding and following along with orders. As the team advances to the reactor, a rather fortuitous path that would lead her closer to her goal, 404 subconsciouly pats a waist bag containing one of the tools she would use to achieve said objectives.

-------

[Unknown]

OOC: Post Theme

"Kohei Kurokawa is still alive." One of the holo screens showed a masked man, a faestir by the looks of it, his voice steady and solemn. "The assassination attempt failed."

"Did it?" Replied the man in the other end, far away from the light of the holo screen that it is all but impossible to make out any discerning features in the darkened room, save that this one is human. "The attack happened right after the envoy's meeting with the New Order representatives. No doubt distrust will soon start to further fester against the New Order and groups aligned with them. This is a desirable outcome."

"For now, contact Melchias Apolion. Extend to him the offer we have made to the others. The man is driven and ambitious. He will need to be watched, but he will make a valuable addition." The masked faestir nodded his acquiescence before the feed cut off and the shadowed man turns his attention to another holo screen, this one portraying a man clad in a gold-accented business suit with flowing geometric designs. "Executive Fields. Has Chivalric Arms made successful contact with the Vrai?"

[ Malchior IV ]

Salem felt a surge of panic run through him as Blackout appeared. He was a fool to think Blackout wouldn't notice his betrayal, and he had nothing in his arsenal with which to combat him.

No - not nothing. That wasn't quite true. He looked to Vell, cowering inside the limo, then back to Blackout.

He drew on the power Blackout had embedded in him, and as expected, it immediately began clawing at his soul, warping his mind, corroding his body. He screamed, but focused his mind, trying to persevere as dark flame burst from his body, corrupting him, tearing him apart. He felt his mind shatter into a thousand pieces, his body crumble to so much dust, his soul wither and wither and wither and wither and-

And then, he was a child, many years ago on some cool Vesa Qatorian evening, sat on a farmhouse porch with his brother Juaréz and his father, Juan Castillo. His father had recounted, as he often would, a story from the Bible - that of the Good Samaritan, a man of noble conscience who stopped to rescue a traveler who had been assailed on a lonesome road, on a dark and stormy night. A man who had acted not for any want of personal gain, but for the love of his fellow man. Salem had often wondered if he was anything like the Samaritan in that story - if anyone truly was, or, rather, if anyone would ever admit that they weren't. Surely, most people were more akin to the passersby from the story - who acted with no ill will, but remained concerned with their own safety and well-being above all else.

But now, Salem realized, he had his answer. He wasn't in the story at all; his chapter was yet to be written. He was not the Samaritan, not the traveler, not a passerby. He was the watchman; the sentinel who, taking up arms and armor, ventured down that lonesome road to drag whatever evil lurked there back into the dark and shadowy pit from which it never should've emerged.

And then Blackout felt, for quite possibly the first time ever, not the destruction of his power but the absolute severance of it. The portion of his power stored within Salem's body was cut off from him entirely, transformed, transmuted into pure cosmic energy which radiated from Salem's healed and restored body. Salem collected himself, and focused. Even with this overwhelming power, he could not stop Blackout - but he did not need to. All he needed to do was save the life of one innocent man.

"Dr. Vell, run, and get as far away from here as you can."

With that, Salem placed his fore and middle fingers to his forehead, then rapidly expended his arm and pointed them towards Blackout, firing a single beam of golden cosmic energy towards him.

---

[ Narayanstra, Team Gamma ]

"Empress Lilith, it's good that you're here." responded Admiral Massa, missing the subtext entirely. "You're about to see our fine PsyTroopers eliminate these terrorists. PsyTroopers - kill them."

---

[ Luxury Shuttle Juan Peres ]

Reed was relaxing in his luxury shuttle, which he had renamed as a jab at Morgan Peres following on from the latest development in the Khum Williams saga. It was a move that had been well received in the more low-brow channels of the holonet - cementing his reputation as a 'Chad', not that he quite knew what that term meant. He was returning to Tanari core space, when the call from Blair Morrison came in.

"Blair Morrison, I don't believe we've met. To what do I owe the pleasure?

<Narayanastra, Team Gamma>

“Our fine PsyTroopers are the problem, Admiral.” ‘Lilith’/Blackout said. “I’ve received an urgent message from Sefer. It seems that while we've been setting our trap, the FSA has been setting one of their own."

He created an illusion of a hologram of Sefer, which began to explain that the mercenaries hired by the FSA were surreptitiously spreading a prototype psychic weapon around the Narayanastra, one that could come to impact the entire PsyTrooper network if it were given enough time.

"And so I'm afraid there's only one solution," the hologram concluded. "All assembled PsyTroopers must self-terminate immediately."

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Alpha>

The FSA troopers and mercs began to set up defensive positions around the entrance to the reactor in preparation for any attempt to retake the area, while a few began examining it.

At the other end of the group from 404, Pes tapped Fourteen on the shoulder and tried to indicate with a nod that he should keep an eye on 404's bag.

-----

<Malchior IV, Near Anh-Dante Cemetery>

Much to his own surprise, Blackout was launched backwards by Salem's attack, slamming into a nearby parked car. His concentration slipped, and for a second, his real form was visible.

Blackout rose, again taking the form of Lilith. A cold wind blew down the street as a swirling vortex of energy formed around him, deadly waves of Void Magic radiating outwards and heading for both Vell and Salem.

-----

<Yari III, Blair Morrison’s Limo>

“I’ve been following the campaign you’re running for Silver Eachan. It’s impressive. Very creative, and you have to get creative considering the sort of people we’re up against.” Blair said, sipping a gin and tonic. “Here on Yari III, the enemy is at the gate, and much as CUSP here might like to delude themselves, they’re going to lose and all I can do is find ways to mitigate the damage the left is going to do when they get in. And maybe that’s the case across the Confederacy. But, whatever happens in the next few weeks, you strike me as someone well-placed to forge a new settlement. I’d like to offer you a deal. I'm a very rich man and I know a lot about many politicians. CUSP in particular. How much they can be bought for, all the things they like a little too much. You don't last long doing what I do without that sort of information, and I've lasted a very long time. And I can put some of those resources at your disposal.”

“But I don’t do anything for free, Reed. I understand federalism is a political third rail. That Donovan report has caused an uproar. Hell, the stock market’s been all over the place ever since it leaked. But if Yari III or any other colony starts coming after the interests of Bristol Corporation in a way I can’t handle myself, and you’re in a position to do something about it, I’ll expect you to put the screws on them using every bit of power the federal government has… or I’ll see to it that you go down with me."

-----

<Xazari Space, Chivalric Arms HQ>

"The Vrai and the Xazari disagree on many issues, but a business-oriented culture like yours can surely understand the value of freedom and stability. The New Order would crush your way of life out of existence as soon as they got the chance. While the FSA contains some sympathetic states like Malchior, it is full of unstable, authoritarian regimes that simply cannot be relied on to protect your investments long-term. Just look at who the election for Secretary-General has come down to. A dictator and the secret representative of a race of warlords." the Vrai Inquisitor explained to the assembled Xazari. "Rest assured that we don't intend for the Order and Progress Coalition to be a tool for standardisation of economic policy, perhaps outside of the few basics necessary for an internal market. But such things can be agreed in detail when the project has taken shape and more members have agreed to join, and by coming in on the ground floor you will have much power to shape any such future arrangements."

"What we would like to propose as a starting point is, essentially, a development corporation. As the bloc expands, it may be the case that potential member-states of the OPC require urgent investment to prevent economic problems that could have knock-on effects elsewhere. Other worlds may aspire to join, but be prevented from doing so by their neighbours or their mother empires. These worlds may require us to provide sympathetic elements with military aid on the down-low. Our Development Corporation could be used as a cover for this. The potential upside ought to be clear: as well as, obviously, a fair share of the profits from all such investments, Chivalric Arms and affiliated corporations could gain a foothold and massive goodwill in hitherto-untapped markets, and an advantage through technological exchanges with us and any other future members. I don't know about you, but I'd call that a bargain."

-----

[ Luxury Yacht Juan Peres ]

"I agree to your proposal, Morrison. You see, enterprising Tanari corporations such as Bristol must also play their part... if this great nation of ours is to continue."

---

[ Trent-on-Side, Tanari Prime ]

The Right Honorable Tony Dalton MP woke up, put on his business suit, and drove to work.

Today would be a tiring day. A local teacher's union, NATA, had fallen of an Allman-era educational by-law that required differing perspectives on sexual orientation to be presented in a 'fair and balanced' manner; in Allman-speak, this meant that the ancient theory of 'contagious homosexuality' had to be taught to students. Whilst widely discredited and disregarded by most of the modern Tanari population, the view had once been predominant across the confederation, and there had been a time where teachers who refused to teach it would've been beaten publicly. Instead, these teachers had provoked the ire of a right-wing holonet group, and it was Dalton's job to defuse the situation.

Dalton was centre-right politically, and probably the leftmost member of the CUSP party. He enjoyed a positive reputation with the left-wing members of the Tanari parliament, who saw him as an open-minded politician with whom deals could be struck; his own partly thought far less of him, seeing him instead as a bleeding-heart liberal who had stumbled, by pure accident, into a successful business career before running for MP. It was an open secret that Eachan wasn't a fan of the up-and-coming young politician, and were it not for the risk of losing the follow-up by-election, he likely would've expelled Dalton from the party altogether.

As he came to the bridge connecting Trent-on-Side to the mainland, his car suddenly started swerving out of control. He tried to steer straight but found his hands gliding over the steering wheel as if it were coated in oil - or more accurate, as if it were made of oil. The steering wheel began to shift and morph, a terrifying face appearing in the middle of it, revealing it wasn't a steering wheel at all. The steering wheel had somehow been removed from Dalton's car without his knowledge and replaced with a Shifter assassin who was now in control of his car. He tried to wrestle with the assassin to no avail - his hands simply passed through the being's liquid form.

The car drove off the bridge, straight into the river, plummeting to the bottom. The Shifter assassin made his escape, turning into a string of quicksilver which swam out of the car, leaving Dalton alone to drown. When police officers would later arrive at the MP's home to investigate his disappearance, they would find it damaged and destroyed, covered with graffiti which read:

THE LIES MUST END - EACHAN'S TIME IS OVER

---

[ Narayanastra ]

(Theme)

Admiral Massa turned to Lilith, a horrified look on his face.

"Do you have any idea what you've just d-"

Each PsyTrooper had a microfusion reactor built into the back section of their armor, and in obeying Lilith's order, each PsyTrooper detonated it. The corridor was consumed in a micronuclear explosion, and throughout the station, one after another, each and every PsyTrooper exploded, taking out the surrounding environment in a cacophony of heat and fire. A staccato rhythm of dull thuds sounded throughout every part of the station as each Trooper relayed the command to the next trooper then executed it themselves; a group of New Order dignitaries attempting to flee aboard a Gideon-class patrol destroyer were wiped out by their own escort, the wreckage of the burning ship crashing into its hangar's fuel depot, detonating it and sending explosions rippling across the surface of Narayanastra, blowing armored panels the size of cities off into the vacuum of space. Explosions rocked every area of the ship as various component failures began cascading throughout the station; moments before the station's biological CPU core was wiped out it activated the station's 'last-ditch' protocol, spooling up the railgun and targeting Malchior. This didn't last long - as soon as the capacitors in the station's rail arms had begun to charge, they were blown apart by the very PsyTrooper garrison sent specifically to reinforce them.

Admiral Baudouin looked on in horror from the bridge of the Laconia as explosions rippled across the Narayanastra, chunks of it blowing apart - there were so many radiological alarms flashing up on the ship's main viewscreen that an ensign had temporarily disabled them. In the hangar bay, the ceiling began to collapse, a structural pillar falling down and narrowly missing the Akathama Kimaris, crushing a Gotti vessel instead. The CIC swung wildly from side to side, the main viewscreen cutting out as the main power conduits failed - resuming momentarily as the auxiliary conduits kicked in, before failing again as they, too exploded. Aboard the warship Geryon, the Captain - who in fairness to Khum Williams really was named Juan Peres, albeit of absolutely no relation to Morgan Peres - looked aghast as the Narayanastra seemed to disintegrate before his very eyes.

"Status report - What happened?!"

Peres's first officer replied. "Looks like somebody ordered a mandatory self-destruct of all PsyTrooper assets. It's a good thing we kept our complement onboard, just in case."

Juan Peres turned to his first officer, a look of absolute disappointment on his face as the Geryon's PsyTrooper complement obeyed the order that had been relayed to them, vaporizing the warship in an instant; mercifully, the Laconia and Chrysaor had already disembarked their garrisons during the initial assault. Back on the hangar on the Narayanstra, Evangelise Ascheron's strike team - the recently liberated Canaan Jones amongst them - made a dash towards the Akathama Kimaris, dodging falling debris. Astra and Zeneca flew through a corridor, desperate to reach Blackout and ensure his safety, when a blast of fire appeared around a corner ahead of them and consumed them, undoing the astral warriors on an atomic level. New Order soldiers began to desert their stations, throwing down their weapons and running to escape pods, shuttles, fighters - anything that would get them off the crumbling station. Alarms sounded throughout the station in the areas that still had access to both power and the central computer mainframe. Throughout the station, wall panels opened up to reveal escape pods - enough for the entire crew complement, though the internal structure of the station was now so badly damaged that any given escape tube had probably collapsed in on itself or melted entirely.

Admiral Massa had intended for the Narayanastra incident to serve as a demonstration of the PsyTroopers' destructive potential. And, in a roundabout way, he had gotten what he asked for.

<Narayanastra, Team Gamma>

Blackout looked on as a fireball engulfed the PsyTroopers and the chamber as a whole from behind a temporary force field he generated, which also protected Di-Jonn Massa and Team Gamma. He had not quite anticipated this specific outcome, but it would certainly send a message to Sefer Yetzirah, which was all that mattered to him at this stage.

“What can I say, Admiral? It seems that what the Empress wants, the Empress gets.” ‘Lilith’/Blackout said to Massa. He walked up to the Admiral and firmly grasped his hand, then teleported both of them to the Darkmount.

"What the fuck just happened?" Lt. Buckner said to the rest of Team Gamma.

-----

<The Darkmount>

"Lock him up. Far away from anyone else." Blackout said to a few Espiritu Santo agents he and Di-Jonn Massa had materialised in front of, who proceeded to drag the bewildered Admiral away. As he awaited Vekhta and Shepard’s arrival with Lilith in tow, he began to faintly sense a disturbance, as though, somewhere very far away, one of his acolytes, within whom he’d instilled a tiny portion of his power, was having a deeply unfortunate change of heart.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Beta>

Amanda looked on in shock as the PsyTroopers they were about to fight, for all intents and purposes, simply disintegrated - and so did the railgun they were supposed to secure. As the floor ahead caved in, taking the few New Order troopers still alive with it, she turned to the rest of the group. “Ladies, shall we get the hell out of here while we still can?” she said.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Delta>

Colonel Hawkes and Ashton Carney were both thrown to the floor as the CIC was rocked from side to side by the explosions and the lights switched off. Hawkes had managed to download a substantial amount of information from the Narayanastra’s computer, concerning both the design of the station itself and the New Order’s military capabilities more broadly. When - if they got back home in one piece, FSA intelligence would pore over it, and hopefully some of it would prove useful.

“Computer, damage report.” Hawkes choked out, and was unsurprisingly met with no reply. “Lalli? Ashton? Are we all okay?”

“I’m fine.” Ashton said as he tried to rise to his feet and looked around for Lalli Cain, whom he could no longer see in the dark. “Lalli?”

-----

<Yari III>

Blair Morrison smiled as he ended the call and stepped out of the limo and into his villa on the outskirts of Horba City. He walked into his office and activated a computer terminal on his desk. Apparently Reed liked to carefully maintain a certain persona, even in conversation. Well, he could do that if he wanted to, but just in case, Blair was going to make sure he would have the ability to rip it apart, whatever it took.

"Access files. Sigma, infrared, fourteen. Triple cipher. Ruth, Beth, Lyta." he said.

"Password acknowledged. Voice signature acknowledged. Access granted." a robotic voice replied.

"Keyword search. Reed, William Douglas."

-----

<Orbit of Tanari Prime>

High above the Tanari homeworld, two men in space suits inserted a long, glowing green tube into an open panel on one communications satellite. They were supposed to be on a routine maintenance mission, but at the last minute some officer had stopped them and told them they were to install one new component, without explaining what it was. It seemed very fishy to them - the device he'd given them didn’t seem to be related to communications in any immediately obvious way - but they weren’t about to disregard an order that had apparently come straight from the President’s office.

------

<Tanari Prime, Wilson City>

Freya Jackson stepped out of the holo-net studio, having just finished recording an episode of a chat show where she and some obnoxious no-mark from CUSP had been discussing the recent sad death of Tony Dalton. As much as she usually hated such things, it had been quite amusing to see the CUSP MP forced to grit his teeth and nod along as she gave an uncharacteristically genuine eulogy for a man, who, unlike most of his political ilk, could actually be reasoned with. Though they were still rather to her right, Freya had to respect the contribution Shae Eachan had made to the cause of Tanari liberalism by convincing random politically moderate business and media figures she’d met at boring parties to run for political office. She couldn’t help but find Dalton’s death suspicious - though she wouldn’t put anything past the Radicals, they certainly weren’t the only ones who might have an interest in creating tension ahead of the election.

She tried to shape-shift out of the pantsuit she’d chosen for her holo-net appearance, only to find she couldn’t. As she realised she was experiencing one of the scariest things that could possibly happen to a Shifter, she began to panic, but was brought back to reality by a sudden phone call.

"F-F-Freya? It's Jack from the factory.” said the voice on the other end of the call, which belonged to one of the striking workers from the factory where Ken had accosted her a few days earlier. “None of us here can shift! Must… must be some new thing the company’s trying on us.”

Freya gulped. “I can’t either. Can’t be just the factory.”

“Freya…” Jack’s tone grew darker still. “We’d just started setting up the feckin’ roadblock again. I’ve got four men stuck like this.”

“Shit! I’ll try to get some transport to the hospital sorted.” All around Freya, random Shifters walking down the street were suddenly realising they, too, were trapped in their current forms. Though none of the ones she could see seemed to be experiencing any problems more serious than the obvious extreme discomfort resulting from suddenly no longer being able to perform a basic bodily function, she knew all too well that, for many Shifters currently working rather dangerous jobs, that might not be the case. No, she thought, this was too serious and probably beyond the capabilities of just a single factory owner desperate to put an end to a local strike. There were several groups that could be responsible for this, but top of the list, especially considering recent events, had to be the federal government.

-----

<Yorak, DRJ’s Ship>

One thing that constantly came up in focus groups run by the Tanari Liberal Party was that David Robert Jones was seen as ‘aloof’ and ‘unapproachable’ by the public, even by people willing to vote for him. Jones, of course, was perfectly fine with being perceived that way if the alternative was, as he saw it, to take attention away from the issues, but after days of nagging by the Liberal spin doctors, who insisted it could be a drag on his polling numbers, he finally agreed to one long interview to be conducted by a friendly journalist and broadcast over the holo-net before the election. During the interview, it was agreed, Jones would speak honestly about his life - as honestly as he would ever willingly speak to a journalist, anyway. In the end, he found it easier to stick to the deal than he expected.

He spoke about his early life as the scion of the wealthy Jones family, which owned one of the corporations that had been involved in the project to create genetically modified supersoldiers during the Vrai invasion decades ago.

He spoke about his horror at seeing the power-hungry, often unstable individuals the project created, including one Edward Allman, and at the unethical experiments the company had conducted on Shifters, all of which led him to simply wind it up as soon as he inherited control from his father, who, like his father before him, was also named David Robert Jones.

He spoke of his determination to prevent such abuses from happening again, which led him to enter politics by taking the easiest avenue available for a man of his station - running for the Confederation Senate as a Unionist candidate in a safe Unionist seat, and ultimately led him to devote so much time to public service that his marriage collapsed. He never remarried and never had children, leaving him, in all likelihood, the last David Robert Jones.

He spoke of politics in the years before Allman’s rise, which at this point seemed like simpler, halcyon days to some. He paid tribute to friends who had not survived the Allmanite purges, and went into detail on a few carefully selected incidents, such as a few of the more infamous and amusing corruption and sex scandals, all ones he had had absolutely no involvement in, and the FARSI/Saw Gerrera Affair, which he had decided would make for a good way of reminding voters he had no truck with Shifter extremism.

He spoke of his brief exile on Malchior IV, and his warm friendship with President Klak Vell and Nadle, followed by his return to the Confederation along with Aria Nashton to lay the groundwork for the resistance movement against Allman, culminating in the creation of the Voice of the Resistance, a regular secret holo-net broadcast hosted by Jones which, despite regular attempts by Allmanite forces to jam it or kill Jones himself, never faltered in its mission to provide Tanari everywhere with the most accurate information possible on how the war with the Takemikazuchi was proceeding, on domestic and galactic affairs more broadly, and on Resistance activities.

He spoke of his relationship with Aster and Richard Branley, who he considered his two closest friends, though he was rather circumspect about the fact that ties with both were now strained to varying degrees (Jones had not been seen in public with Aster or Richard since he had taken the job as Ambassador to the FSA, and Richard had not only become a very politically extreme figure, but also not been seen in public at all for a fair few months). His reaction when the recurring accusation that he had used his work at the Voice of the Resistance to exaggerate their accomplishments in the armed wing of the resistance out of personal considerations or to position them for political careers ahead of other Shifters for ideological reasons came up was - as it always had been - one of flat denial. He could not have possibly made up the things they did, he insisted.

He spoke of the controversial compromises he and other anti-Allmanites had made after the war, including a constitution often criticised by the Tanari left for its conservatism on matters such as social rights, Shifter rights, colonial autonomy, gender equality, LGBT rights, the electoral system, or the power of the presidency, the lack of prosecution for all but the most egregious surviving war criminals, and ultimately, Jones’ joining Silver Eachan’s administration as Ambassador to the FSA - insisting that, while he was not at all happy with all that had occurred, which was why he was now running for President, he insisted that he had been correct to believe, as he did at the time, that the threat posed by the New Order required achieving national unity as quickly and painlessly as possible.

He finished the interview by speaking about his passion for, of all things, old Earth poetry, and his belief that the Tanari had made a mistake by simply turning their back on much of Earth culture. And he quoted one particular poem which, he felt, summed up the predicament the Confederation could find itself in if it did not quickly renew itself on a moral level.

Spoiler:

-----

<Asukara System>

General Khefru uncrossed his arms upon hearing Domino’s warning.

“All due respect, Great and Honored Domino,” Khefru replied. “But the New Order declared war once they built this abomination. Once the installation is gone, we will urge for peace and send diplomatic missions to soothe tensions. Until then, guns away.”

The General signaled, and the fleet began to fire on New Order ships as the Amun Collective fighters locked their foils in attack position. One of the Collective’s ships appeared as a vast predatory bird that menacingly approached the Tygenian fleet.

Suddenly, the Narayanastra began to explode. General Khefru’s brow raised in surprise.

“Well, then,” he muttered. “All ships, prepare countermeasures, no doubt the FSA will want to retreat.”

The General wondered whether they would all go to the staging post, or whether the fleet would scatter to prevent the New Order from tracking them all.  

Meanwhile, the remaining pirate ships continued to shoot back at the NO and Tygenian fleet, attempting to lay cover fire to help the mercenaries, FSA, September Dawn, and others return to space. Other cruisers were already primed for a hyperspace jump, hoping to escape sooner rather than later.

-

<Akzer’s Mind, Narayanastra>

Akzer blinked and flickered his tongue as he pondered Blackout’s offer.

“Maybe we’ll both find what we seek,” he affirmed. “I accept your terms, Blackout. Together, we’ll make all worlds ours...or burn them like the stars.”

A malicious grin formed on his face, and he reached out to shake Blackout’s hand.

-

OOS: Theme for the remaining Narayanastra sections: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3hHsVtqNFQ

<Team Gamma, Narayanastra>

“Not a clue,” Quick Billy replied, with a confused look on his face. He glanced at Amalgamud and shrugged.

“There’ll be time to figure that out later, right now we need to evac!” Herd Stir shouted. Quick Billy nodded, and followed Herd Stir into a corridor. An explosion rocked the hallway, and Billy staggered before continuing to run.

They (hopefully) made their way to the hangar, having fought various New Order troops along the way.

“Damn it,” Herd Stir cursed as they saw the destruction in the hangar. They rolled over to the corvette the September Dawn agents had arrived in, passing the corpse of the Aloussian soldier from earlier who had been crushed underneath debris. Herd Stir sighed morosely.

“Anyone who doesn’t have a ship can ride in our own,” they said over the radio.

Quick Billy pushed away various beams and pipes and slammed his fist onto a button on the Liquid Metalliconite cruiser. Thankfully, the doors whooshed open as a platform emerged. He, along with a group of other pirates that had recently arrived, ran into the ship.

-

<Team Beta, Narayanastra>

Onyx nodded at Amanda while Regina stared at the dead PsyTroopers with widened eyes.

“All units, evacuate now!” Onyx barked into the radio. “Taggar, I.C., help us clear a path forward!”

The team (hopefully) escaped out of the railgun room and made their way across the base.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Regina muttered as she trained her rifle on a group of incoming New Order troopers. These troopers had given up on any possibilities of escape, and were determined to take the mercs down with them.

Regina (and hopefully I.C. and Taggar) dispatched them quickly.

Suddenly, the hallways appeared to turn as the lights flickered all around them. The floor ahead of them seemed to break away from the rest of the ship.

“The hallway is falling apart!” Onyx observed.

“Grab on!” Regina shouted, pulling out a grappling gun. Hopefully, everyone grabbed onto her as she shot the hook forward and pulled the trigger, reeling her and anyone on her forward onto the rest of the ship. The group landed in another room and Regina desperately slammed the door shut, restoring gravity and life support systems in their section of the ship.

“Keep moving!” Onyx breathed as she stood up and made her way down the hall. Moments later, the team arrived at the hangar. Onyx darted towards the September Dawn corvette. Regina glanced at Amanda.

“If your ship is gone, get to our ship, somehow it’s only slightly damaged!” she urged as she ran to her own ship.

“Lalli, please be alright,” she quietly hoped.

Meanwhile, the Amun Collective troops from earlier retreated into their damaged ship, and left without a word.

-

<Team Delta, Narayanastra>

Lalli groaned in the darkness.

“I’m here,” he coughed. “Just a little shaken up.”

Lalli pulled out a glow rod from one of his pockets, and cracked it open. Ashton and the others could see a piece of debris had lodged itself in Lalli’s shoulder, the blood shining bright in the light.

“I’m alright, let’s get the hell out of here!” Lalli croaked as he helped himself up and limped down the corridor, holding the glow rod in front of him.  
-

<Team Alpha, Narayanastra>

Fourteen noticed the slight presence as well, but dismissed it as some sort of energy field emanating from the reactors. He nodded at Pes and trained his rifle at 404’s bag.

“What have you got there?” he asked suspiciously.

“We should probably figure out a way to overload these things, just in case,” The Shadow Operative suggested to the FSA troopers, Vekhta, Shepard, and Lilith.

Suddenly, an explosion knocked him back into a wall. Fourteen himself was jerked back, nearly smashing into one of the reactors.

He stood up as the lights flickered and glanced at Shao and Pes.

“What the bloody ‘ell is going on?!” he bellowed.

“Evacuate, now!” The Shadow Operative ordered. The team (hopefully) began to rush out of the reactor area as The Shadow Operative urged everyone to evacuate through the radio. Explosions rocked the area and smoldering metallic debris rained all around them as they rushed forward.

A flaming metal platform slammed onto some FSA soldiers near them.

“Keep going!” Fourteen shouted, praying he would reach the hangar in time.

OOS: you can take it from here gentlemen.  

---

<Base Theta, Iotunort>

One of Blizz’s grenades exploded and two New Order soldiers were flung away by the impact. Luckily for them, their nanomesh allowed them to get back up, albeit with some injuries. The incendiary grenade burst into flame, engulfing another soldier who screamed and rolled onto the ground in an attempt to extinguish the fire that threatened to burn into his nanomesh. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.

Bijorn-tar knocked out a New Order soldier with a single punch. Stokko Kilardeef took cover next to Blizz and fired his rifle at two others that were firing back at him.

Ari Mutinta shot down one of the soldiers that had gotten up after getting blasted with the grenade. He turned around and noticed a snow buggy nearby. Rounds pelted the snow underneath him, and he quickly took cover next to Tarvias Deep.

“We’re being watched,” he shouted to Tarvias.

---

<Andromeda Hotel, Yari III>

Rain rolled his eyes and groaned upon hearing about the honeymoon suite. Once they sat down, he frowned at the menu and glared at the labels in disgust. Such conduct would be unacceptable on Malchior.

“Funny you should mention that name,” Rain replied in his regular voice. “Though perhaps an introduction is in order before we get to that.”

He reached for his pocket and took out a different scrambling device, one more suited to their public location. He quietly placed the device under the table.

“Just a precaution,” he clarified, smiling. Rain pointed to his forearm. He dabbed his fingers on the condensation on his glass of water, then rubbed them against his skin, revealing his its true greyish hue. He removed both of his cybernetic contact lenses, revealing his red eye and his pale eye. He quickly placed his cybernetic lenses back and blinked.

“My name obviously isn’t Taloran Kite,” Rain explained. “I’m Rain Sulrai, adamah by birth, Malchiorian by choice. My eye’s injury was a parting gift courtesy of Mother’s New Order. Nadle and Klak send their apologies for the delay, things have been complicated lately. If Mother gains control of the galaxy, then there will be no ‘rights’ left for shifters to fight for, or anyone else for that matter.”

Rain cleared his throat.

“As you know, I’m a Malchiorian agent,” he continued. “I have two missions in the Tanari Confederation. First, I’m to assist you, Aster. Protection, politics, the works. I’m sure you can handle things fairly well, but Malchior wants to help, Aster. I could go through an entire list of factions, Tanari or otherwise, that see you as a threat...and some of them are keen on making their threats disappear. Spies, bounty hunters, assassins..they could be anywhere, really. Back at Mayor Lundby’s office, we were being watched. And I’ve counted at least 4 suspicious people in this hotel, two of which happen to be the only patrons of this restaurant’s bar at this hour.”

Rain glanced at the bar and blinked at two stern-looking men who seemed to be sipping a clear liquid.

“My second mission is to investigate this ‘Blackout’ you mentioned. Nadle and Jones are convinced its a person, but some of our other intel suspects it may be an organization. I’m supposed to find out more, regardless of what he, she, or it is.”

Rain sipped his water, eyeing Aster suspiciously.

“What does the name ‘Blackout’ mean to you, then?” he asked.  

-

<Von Budberg’s Office, Yari III>

“Very well,” Raven replied.

Moments later, when they were away from Von Budberg’s office and on their way to meet with Siper and Igor, Raven spoke up.

“Do you trust Von Budberg?” he asked matter of factly. "I love his record, but...."

---

<Near Anh-Dante Cemetery, Malchior IV>

“He didn’t fly so good!” Dr. Pa Vell shouted as the assassin was blown apart. The two surviving Presidential Guard members pulled him away from the car and took cover behind a nearby tree. One of the Guardsmen described the situation to his command, while the other aimed his gun at “Lilith”/Blackout, who was now charging at Salem.

“I didn’t know you’d bring friends!” the guard asked Dr. Vell. “Just what the hell is going on? We’re being attacked by Lurians AND Yetzirah’s wife?”

“He is not my friend!” Dr. Pa Vell shouted. “And I have no idea, but he saved us, so we must return the favor!”

The guard started firing his laser pistol at Blackout in vain.

-

<Presidential Palace, Malchior IV>

As they sat down, Emily wistfully wished that Jefferson Bethlehem could have joined them as well, and privately hoped for his speedy recovery.

The meeting commenced, and the Vrai Ambassador said his spiel.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ambassador,” Vice President Merlyn Weir replied, perplexed. “You want Malchior to abandon the coalition we helped create?”

“That could shatter the FSA into a million pieces,” Emily added. “Or push it into the hands of another power, and there is no guarantee they will be a republic like us.”

“Furthermore, I think you are underestimating the FSA,” Weir continued. “We are forging new alliances, and our coalition is growing. After the elections, we are also set to grow economically and militarily. And Malchior will be leading the way. Certainly, your concerns about the Lurians and Tanari Confederation are well-founded. My wife is a shifter herself, I don’t want anyone like Eachan or any Ascheron to continue having influence in the FSA. Frankly, I’d wish Klak would back Malcovus now that Krieger is dead, may he rest in peace.”

“I want to remind you, Mr. Ambassador, that the official position of the Malchiorian government is that we do not endorse anyone in the FSA race and we look forward to seeing democracy in action,” Emily cautioned.

“Absolutely, Emily,” Weir acknowledged. “That was my personal opinion, Mr. Ambassador. Regardless, I don’t think you should let rivalries from thousands of years ago stop you from becoming a part of the FSA. We’re the ones fighting the Armechios after all. Plus, a counterbalance to the Lurians and Tanari is another strong state joining the FSA, not some separate...independent...non-aligned coalition! All due respect...”

“We need a stronger FSA to stop the New Order, which is the true threat against all of us, after all,” Emily remarked.

“Exactly,” the Vice President echoed, nodding. “Perhaps your coalition can become a part of the FSA itself, expanding the reach of our shared values across the galaxy.”

-

<New Order Safehouse, Malchior IV>

OOS: Theme for this part of the post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-C2wCcuKmLI

The transport landed at a local spaceport. Treveya Q emerged, still playing the part of a journalist as she made her way to the parking lot. The Fauld’him got onto her speeder bike and pushed the lever, hovering out of the lot and into the city.

Moments later, she darted down the highway until the city was nothing but a memory. Now, a bright orange desert surrounded her as she approached a rocky plateau. Suddenly, Treveya swerved off road and continued to hover over the dirt. She slowed down at a random rock formation then turned into the plateau, seeming to disappear.

The hologram shimmered. Treveya slowly parked her bike and got off. She removed her 1940s journalist outfit and put her armor back on before making her way down a darkened corridor. She finally stopped in front of what appeared to be a mundane white door guarded by a toothy, snowy-skinned alien with small black eyes, red tendrils for hair, and four arms. He wore khaki pants and a navy blue bomber jacket with a shirt underneath bearing the inscription of some sort of Malchiorian sports team. The alien seemed occupied reading something on his holo-device.  

“Afternoon, Trikolais,” Treveya greeted. “Long live the New Order.”

Trikolais nodded without looking up to Treveya, his mind transfixed on whatever he was reading.

Treveya opened the door, which led to an elevator. She stepped in and pressed one of two buttons that were available. The elevator whooshed upwards until it reached its destination, the doors opening and revealing a decently-sized New Order base of operations.

The New Order had built the base as a safe house for its intelligence operations this side of Malchior. The base was part of a larger network of safe houses across the planet for New Order spies. However, recent counterintelligence crackdowns whittled the safe house network down to only a handful.

Nevertheless, the base was still quite functional. Dozens of agents buzzed around the charcoal grey metallic floors. Some carried chain code cylinders full of data, while others repaired weapons and gadgets at the workstations that were collected on the western side of the garage.

Treveya sauntered up to Rahn, a human New Order operative who seemed to frown at her as she approached him.

“You made yourself obvious, Commander,” he chided. “I saw the footage from your lapel pin.”

“Great to see you too, Rahn,” Treveya snickered.

“You literally walked up to the target and announced yourself!” Rahn groaned. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to spy on a President without your little stunt?”

“Mind your tongue, Rahn,” Treveya warned. “The ‘stunt’ was a test. Plus, I now have something that can help throw a wrench into the Tanari elections.”

Rahn raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Treveya smiled as she noticed Silver Eachan was calling her. “My plan worked.”

She answered the call, but flicked a scrambling switch. Silver would only see a glitchy humanoid form as the hologram in front of him.

“Silver Eachan,” Treveya beamed. “I presume you saw my message?”

-

<Klak’s Holo-Call with the Xazari>

Klak smiled at the female gryphon’s greeting.

“A pleasure to be speaking with you as well,” he replied diplomatically.

His eyes later narrowed upon hearing about the accords.

“What do you mean?” he inquired in a bewildered voice. “I had been under the impression that Ms. D’Argent’s meeting with Secretary Russello was in regards to accords with the Xazari.”

---

<City of Sards, Vongola>

Joshua chuckled.

“Sorry, just randomly wondered if it was the New Order, but that’s impossible.” Joshua dismissed as he drank from his cup. “Why would they even get involved now? Silly idea.”

---

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

“Damn Vrai,” Wareshu spat, still angry at memories of the Vrai Wars. “It took them a few decades, but they’re back to their scheming ways.”

“Hang on, maybe this is good for us,” Tayne suggested. “More protection, better jobs, more cash. This ship could use an upgrade. And...maybe all of us--and my other friends--can finally get a better life.”

“What could be better than this?” Wareshu laughed nervously. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tayne. You know the rules of this place.”
“Ehh, sorry, maybe the drinks are getting to me,” Tayne buzzed morosely.

<Unknown Location>

No matter how hard he tried to ignore them, the gears just kept turning.

An endless cacophony of grinding metal permeated Kakamu's mind as he fell into an infinite abyss. Glimpses of titanic gears entered the corners of his vision, slowly sliding out of the darkness that surrounded him. He closed his mechanical eyes and focused, hoping to determine the direction of gravity so that he could position himself upright and get a better grasp of his surroundings, but there was nothing he could do to stop his descent. The grinding sound continued, now accompanied by an ever-increasing heat that threatened to boil him alive. Remembering the powers that the Fruit of Life had afforded him, Kakamu grasped his chest and attempted to absorb the heat in his environment into his core, but it did nothing.

His core was dead, after all. His heart, a delicate organ of flesh and blood which once sat at the center of his alien ribcage, had long since been replaced by an arcane device shaped by the hands of the Emperor herself with arcane magicks he could only speculate as to the nature of. It was a poor replacement for a heart. In fact, it was no heart at all.

"You're heartless," spoke an unfamiliar voice.

Kakamu instantly opened his eyes and looked around, but his environment was unchanged. He felt the air around him begin to burn. He would suffocate soon, but that had never been a problem for him. Not permanently.

There was another option, of course. He had been told that the device in his chest contained enough elemental energy to power him for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years. But it need not be contained forever. If he was ever faced with the prospect of isolation for the rest of his life, like the years he had spent frozen in the orbit of Nil'nara, or if the Emperor decided that it was time for him to give his life for the cause, she had made sure that he could give it. The energy in his 'heart' could be released in a blast that would obliterate everything around him for hundreds of miles, and also, probably himself. But this was not guaranteed. There was a chance that, due to the nature of his being, he would survive the detonation, severely weakened but alive. It was a hell of a gamble to take, but if he had to, he would take it. And now was a good a time as any.

Perhaps it is time, Kakamu thought. He had always known that there would come a day where he would have to pay for the sins he had committed in pursuit of the alien race that kidnapped his child. Thanks to him, Nil'nara had surrendered to the New Order without bloodshed, but there were other victories that had not come so clean. Images of the bodies on the Kracian front flashed across his eyes, followed by the clear blue seas of Vassilan turning black with the poison Arc Judmon had deployed from orbit while Kakamu had stood on the bridge and watched. A judgement that Kakamu was, in part, responsible for bringing upon the once-peaceful world. A world that had aligned with his enemies, for better or worse.

For whatever reason, his thoughts turned to Niita, the Vassila officer who had helped guide his hand - or his spear - in the subjugation of that ocean world. Images of her rose to the forefront of his mind, her youthful appearance and cheerful demeanour belying the extensive experience she had with war as part of Vassilan's skirmishes against the New Order before she defected to the winning team.

"I swear to you, Kakamu, we will find these monsters and bring them to justice," Niita had once said to him after hearing the tales of the Arokazek, placing her webbed blue hand on the armor of his shoulder and flashing him that signature cheerful white smile of hers. "For you. For your son. For the Emperor, and for the New Order!"

For the first time since he arrived in this place, Kakamu decided to talk, projecting his voice above the grating of metal as the gears kept turning, inching closer and closer from all sides, threatening to crush him. "Whoever you are... I'm not afraid. I've survived worse than this and I will escape. I am Arc Kakamu."

The unfamiliar voice from before replied. Kakamu couldn't match it to any species he had encountered, but it sounded old. Ancient.

"Are you?"

Before Kakamu could reply, another voice interrupted the sound of grinding metal, but this one, he recognized. The response it gave was in perfect Nil'naran Tekkui. It was the voice of his father, a man who had risen to the rank of "Savant" in his village long before Kakamu was born due to his bravery of his actions in protecting their village. It was said that Kaulan had done more than any other to repel the rogue beasts that had plagued their village before the arrival of the Arokazek had crippled him beyond repair.

"Kakamu... why are you here?" asked the Savant.

"What?" Kakamu replied, dumbfounded. "I don't see anything, I just-"

Kakamu tried to remember the events of the previous day, the events that had brought him here. He remembered that it was the first time he had set foot on the surface of Nil'nara since the Arokazek had torn him from that world all those years ago. It was an unusually emotional mission for him, but one like any other for the White Torches, the soldiers posted under his command by Arc Keylana, the daughter of the Emperor who had succeeded the potential of the Emperor's work by teaching Kakamu everything he knew. But there was someone else with them on Nil'nara that day. A woman whose legends throughout the New Order succeeded his own. He remembered that her name was... Arc Vekhta.

The ancient, unfamiliar voice broke through his memories. "Her. It can't be..."

As the grinding sound returned, more images memories flooded into Kakamu's mind, but these were not ones he remembered. He looked down at his hands and saw the hands of a human grasping a crudely-engineered blaster pistol. The chamber of darkness and gears melted away, replaced with a vision of a vast industrial cityscape with fumes spewing from chimneys into the sky. He heard alien voices haggle for parts as spacecraft soared overhead that bore the insignias of the Pirate Lords of Liquid-Metallicon. Kakamu supposed that this was their world, though he had never visited it in person.

"NO," The ancient voice rumbled, unmistakable anger seeping into its tone. "This is not her. Who is she?"

Liquid-Metallicon vanished as quickly as it arrived, its skies of smoke rolling back to reveal white clouds beneath a burnt orange sky. The city receded into the ground, and in its place rose a new one, boasting architecture that was indescribably ancient yet shone as new as day. In front of Kakamu, a column burst out of the ground that carried two beautiful women, one with blonde hair and one with black, clad in golden armor that seemed to reflect every ray of light from the two suns overhead. The women held hands, looked at the skies above, and smiled.

One by one, dozens of columns burst out of the ground behind them, each one carrying a humanoid figure clad in white. Kakamu could barely make out the details of their forms from where he was standing - or floating - but from what he could see, they wore garments of pure white that intersected with thinner, silver armor, and wore masks that obscured their true features.

Suddenly, Kakamu was launched forwards towards the column with the two women, landing roughly in front of them. Kakamu realized he was in a kneeling position in front of the woman with black hair. He looked up and recognized her face, though she did not seem to notice him at all.

Arc Vekhta.

"That is her," the ancient voice deduced.

And with that, Kakamu awoke.

He found himself lying on his back, surrounded by a small clearing of green grass that was encircled by trees. Birds circled overhead, and beyond that, a fleet of ships could be made out just beyond the atmosphere, innocently hanging in the sky like they had no less right to be there than the sun and moon. Realizing that he had awoken in unfamiliar territory, Kakamu immediately jumped to his feet and inspected his armor. There were scorch marks all across the right side of his chestplate, obscuring the New Order symbol that had once occupied that spot, and scars all over his arms and legs. He removed his mask and turned it around, but it was no different - the same dull gold color it always was.

A rustling nearby caught his attention. He instinctually reached around his back and grasped the Guardian Fire Spear, relieved to find that it was still there. As the rustling got closer, Kakamu brought it out and channeled some of his elemental energy into the spear, setting its tip alight. "Who goes there?"

"I could ask you the same question," replied the gentle voice of a male human. An elderly bald man emerged from behind one of the trees and approached him casually, ignoring Kakamu's spear. "It's not often I get to see one of you in this stretch of the woods."

"And where is here, exactly?" Kakamu asked, still holding the spear alight.

"This is Alcanta Valley, stranger. Malchior IV. And from the looks of it, you're a long way from home."

[ Luxury Shuttle Juan Peres ]

Reed's shuttle entered the atmosphere and touched down on a tropical ocean, its catamaran configuration rendering it as suitable for aquatic navigation as for space travel. The upper hull unfolded, creating a flat, open-air deck space which Reed stepped out onto, taking in the first breaths of fresh sea air after multiple days in space. Having grown up in Shangri-La, where the vast majority of the population lived in space colonies with recycled atmospheres, life on an actual living, breathing planet still felt quite novel to the exiled Tiktak.

A tone sounded, indicating an incoming message. Rather than return to the lounge, Reed summoned a small Roomba-looking robot which wheeled silently along the deck towards him, before producing a life-size holographic projection of Oriel Matthieu Saint from its top surface. The man had a worried expression on his face.

"Are you responsible for this?"

Before Reed could respond, Oriel gestured up display screens showing chaos in Wilson City; riots had broken out as Shifters and their Stabil allies had taken to the streets, accusing the government of employing some kind of biological weapon to prevent Shifters using their abilities. The police station had been bombed, and gunfights were taking place all over the city - both those between the police and rioters, as well as those between the opportunistic Gerrerra cartel and their syndicate rivals. In the latter case, Gerrerra sicarios had arrived from orbit, pre-shifted into ideal combat forms, poised to take advantage of the situation by attacking their Shifter rivals when they were unable to effectively defend themselves. To all this, Reed feigned a look of horror.

"My gods. I'd heard whispers on the holo-net before I made my landing burn, but I didn't envisage anything like this. I'll speak to Eachan right away."

"Don't bullshit me, Reed. I taught you everything you know."

Reed looked shocked, and this time, there was no feigning involved.

"What?"

"The insane Khum Williams saga was one thing, Reed, but if you've caused this madness in pursuit of political gain, then I'm seriously questioning your mental state."

Reed chuckled, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender.

"You got me."

"What's the angle here? We're supposed to be on the same side, yet I don't see what Eachan stands to gain from all this chaos."

"Chaos?" responded Reed, smirking. "Chaos is an asset, Oriel. Chaos I can work with. I'm less afraid of the chaos, than I am of the thought that anyone other than us might have the power to stop it. Chaos means everyone has to look to us for a way out of it. You think I don't know what I'm doing, Oriel? You really think so little of me - that I'm playing with fire? I am fucking Prometheus. I bring the fire. I bring the flame."

Oriel Matthieu Saint appeared stunned, shifting backwards slightly on his holo-projector. Before he could respond, Reed continued.

"Eachan does not know, because he cannot know. This will be his victory, and the Shifters will have him as their savior, not Jones, not Morgan Peres, not the Movement for Rights and Freedoms."

"And who's the fall guy, here? This has all the makings of being a Tanari military op. How the hell are you going to pass the blame on?"

"By giving the people what they want. It is a Tanari military op - perpetrated by a rogue faction that the Shifters have plenty of reason to hate far more than they hate Eachan. The man found responsible for this devastating attack... will be Timothy Morgan Veidt."

Oriel stumbled backwards. "TMV? Is... Is he truly still alive?"

---

[ Narayanstra, Hangar ]

Vekhta and Shepard climbed into the Darkmount, bringing Lilith's unconscious body with them. Shepard gasped for breath, falling to his knees almost as soon as he cleared the ship's embarkation ramp; he willed himself upwards, limping over to a first-aid kit mounted to the wall and hurriedly injecting himself with a stimulant canister.

At this point, it was easier to list the things Vekhta hadn't taken from him, than had. She had his memories - admittedly, through no fault of her own, as Sefer had decided to recreate him by implanting his skills and knowledge in her, reforging a defeated foe into (a replica of) a valuable ally. She had, seemingly, the trust and respect of Blackout - something she had acquired in mere hours. Shepard was an orphan from Liquid Metallicon who had been reforged by science and indoctrination into an elite Shinsengumi supersoldier - and was in many ways was the template for the later PsyTrooper program - but he couldn't compete with what Vekhta brought to the table; Vekhta was Blackout incarnate, both were survivors of all-but-extinct peoples, each burning with hatred and fury. And now, Vekhta had literal decades of his life - which he had given in an instant, and without hesitation, to protect her from her own foolish mistake.

Yet try as he might, he couldn't muster the hate for her that he expected himself to. Even now, in the cargo bay of the Darkmount, she was tending to wounded Espiritu Santo members - and it was almost embarrassing watching her go through the motions, as if trying to convince herself that she was still a good person in the company of good people. There was some idealistic core to her that neither Sefer nor Blackout had been able to corrode; some sense of justice, of fighting the good fight. She had come to Narayanstra not to seek power or glory, not for profit, not for duty or the love of any nation - but alone amongst seemingly all others who had come, purely to stand in opposition to evil.

And that, then, led Shepard to a very simple, reassuring conclusion; at some point she was going to realize the true nature of what Blackout was, and at that point she would invariably turn on him, too. And then Shepard would put her down - as one does to a dog that bites the hand of every master it has ever had - and then his position at Blackout's right-hand side would be restored.

And all would be right with the world.

---

[ Malchior ]

Salem was hit by the blast and went flying backwards, slamming into the facade of the Anh-Dante church which came tumbling down onto him. For a moment it seemed he was buried under the pile of rubble - until the debris exploded in a glow of golden energy and Salem emerged, surrounded by an aura of cosmic power. He held his hands out and pulled the shards of stone and masonry back towards him, clenching his fists as he used his abilities to compress and condense the shards into superdense projectiles, which orbited him in a ring. He calmly stepped forwards, making a series of sharp jabs in Blackout's direction - each of which sent one of these cosmically-charged bullets flying off towards him.

<Narayanastra, Team Delta>

Ashton released the lock on the door, only to immediately have to take cover as several New Order soldiers, armed to the teeth with weapons they’d gathered off other dead troopers and waiting at the end of the corridor, opened fire on them. Much like the ones Team Beta had encountered, the men had also given up on any hope of escape, and were intent on taking Delta down with him.

Ashton began to reach for one of his electro-discs, then heard a soft thump coming from the corridor, followed by a giant fireball that engulfed the men and half the corridor, melting the walls near the now non-existent New Order soldiers. Out of the resulting cloud of smoke stepped Lt. Buckner.

“Come on, people, we’ve cleared a path!” he yelled, beckoning on Team Delta to follow him, Quick Billy and Herd Stir down another corridor. Colonel Hawkes ran out of CIC and followed Team Gamma, and Ashton began to do the same, only to pause as he suddenly became lost in thought.

Lalli was limping behind next to Ashton, both of them now well behind the others, the corridor around them lit by little more than Lalli’s single glow-stick. In the distance, one could hear the muffled screams of dying New Order troopers and mercenaries, and metal creaking as the Narayanastra simply fell apart around them. If he moved fast and attacked him now, he’d stand a good chance of getting the drop on Lalli and killing him, and he could blame the death on any number of things that had nothing to do with him. He had, of course, promised not to do that, but it would hardly be the first time a mercenary ever broke a promise. Lalli would surely do the same to him if the roles were reversed. He moved slightly closer to Lalli and looked him right in the eye. The glow stick illuminated little more than the top half of his head, and under the cover of darkness, Ashton moved his hand slightly as he considered reaching for a weapon.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Gamma>

As they made their way to the hangar, Lt. Buckner suddenly turned to Colonel Hawkes. “Sir, we need to talk.”

“It can wait, Lieutenant!” Hawkes snapped, as a fragment of a metal beam fell from the ceiling next to them. “This station is falling apart!”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, sir.” Buckner said. “But, sir, I mean the reason the station is falling apart... when we got to the chamber, it looked like every single PsyTrooper on this station was waiting for us along with an Admiral. I was pretty sure we were going to die, and then Lilith Heyerdahl turned up. Said we’d sabotaged them somehow, even though we hadn’t. Then she told them to self-destruct. We only survived because she used some sort of force field to save us. Then she just left with the Admiral.”

For once, Colonel Hawkes was left speechless. He attempted to process the implications of the unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented sequence of events his subordinate had just described to him, but his mind came up perfectly blank.

-----

<Narayanastra, Akzer’s Mind>

Blackout smiled, and accepted Akzer’s handshake. “Then we have a deal, Akzer. Welcome back to the real world.” he said, and then vanished just before white light filled the Pirate Lord’s field of vision completely.

And then he came to. He was still lying on the floor of the Narayanastra’s hangar. Blackout was nowhere to be seen, and the only indications that the entire sequence had not merely been a dream were such trifling things as Akzer’s wounds now being fully healed and an odd bubbling sensation briefly making its way throughout his veins as the new power Blackout had promised, filled his body. Whatever its precise nature, it was dark and alien; whispering in Akzer’s ear, demanding to be used, and simultaneously calling out to his now distant benefactor.

-----

<The Darkmount>

The Darkmount left the hangar and jumped to FTL practically as soon as it could in order to get their valuable cargo to the Espiritu Santo base in the Vesa Qatorian system as soon as possible.

After sending a telepathic message to one particular Espiritu Santo agent who had stayed behind at the base, ordering him to prepare for Lilith and Di-Jonn Massa’s arrival, Blackout vanished again, intending to resolve the problem he appeared to be having on Malchior IV.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Alpha>

Pes narrowly avoided being crushed by the same metal platform. “Shitshitshitshit!” he quietly repeated to himself as he ran alongside Fourteen towards the hangar. Once he’d finally reached the hangar, he stopped dead in his tracks, as he realised that the Amelia had been crushed by a falling pillar… and that he’d completely lost track of 404 during the escape.

-----

<Narayanastra, Team Beta>

Amanda was not quite sure how Regina had managed to support everyone’s weight while pulling them across the gap, but she was impressed. She arrived at the hangar to find Pes already there, staring at the wreckage of the Amelia, and ran over to him and hugged him briefly.

“Man, Ash really cursed that ship, didn’t he?” she joked. “Come on. Regina says we can ride in her ship.”

“Have you seen Ashton?” Pes said in a rather distressed tone.

“No.” Amanda replied. She was now standing next to Regina. “Or Cain, for that matter.”

“Fuck!” the Terugan yelled.

“Hello to you too, Pes.” a hoarse, clearly tired voice replied. Pes and Amanda looked up. There, implausibly dragging his feet across the collapsing hangar, was Ashton, who was helping the wounded, and most certainly not murdered, Lalli Cain get to the hangar quicker. “You’re a heavy bastard, you know that, Lalli?”

“Ash!” Amanda yelled back. “Our ship’s wrecked. We’re car-pooling with these guys.”

“Oh, great.”

-----

<Yari III, Andromeda Hotel>

As Aster silently listened to Rain explain his mission, she felt a variety of emotions in quick succession, though her poker face was good enough that she revealed none of them. The first was mild amusement at the scrambling device Rain had deployed, which was of a type the Malchiorians had provided the Tanari Resistance during Allmanism. It temporarily generated what they had taken to calling a Somebody Else’s Problem Field - essentially, for at least a few minutes, people in their vicinity would feel no reason to pay attention to what they were doing.

Next came mild annoyance that Rain had lied about his name, even if she understood that it was potentially necessary, then a faint sense of revulsion as she was forced to admit to herself that Rain wasn’t bad-looking. Then a more strongly felt anger, as despite being adamah, Rain proceeded to be almost every bit as condescending as almost every Malchiorian she’d spoken to in the last few years, only ending up in the upper tier of that list because he, so far, seemed to be fine with allowing people to finish their sentences. The condescension Aster perceived was almost certainly unintentional, which somehow only made it feel worse that they were the closest thing she had to friends beyond the Confederation. And finally, a bit of respect, as Rain revealed a suspicion of the world beyond the little corner he could feel certain he could control which, although essentially justified, seemed to match hers.

“Right, Rain. I definitely like that name better. An aster is a flower, by the way.” Aster said, before seamlessly moving on to a long, calculated, and much less friendly monologue. “Blackout is a person. If you believe Silver Eachan - although, why would you - he’s the last of some ancient race called the Voids, who worked with, or maybe manipulated Allman. Not a comforting thought, if you ask me. I’ve actually met him. He provided some information I needed to try and resolve a serious problem I was having with a radical faction of the Shifter movement. He insisted he was just doing it out of the kindness of his heart, but that was an obvious lie. I still have no idea what he wanted. The main reason you’re here is that I was hoping you’d know something.” The last sentence also served the purpose of reminding Rain that his mission relied solely on her cooperation.

“Anyway, can we be clear about a few things?” She suddenly glanced down at the menu again, leaving Rain in suspense for a few seconds as she silently made her choice of order, but soon picking up again, lest it occur to him to try and so much as get a word in edgeways. “First of all, I’m in Tanari politics, I’ve been in an armed resistance cell, and I even managed two years of law school. I’ve spent my entire life going from one snake den to another, so I know how to handle myself.” She held up one finger to mark the end of her sentence, and briefly glanced at another stern-looking man walking out of the restroom. “Say, by keeping track of the five suspicious people in this hotel.”

“Second of all, both of us know damn well what a dictatorship is. But I learned the hard way, and one day you will too, that your bosses have no idea. Like it or not, Sefer Yetzirah beat the Allmanites and Malchior invited them right back in through the front door.” This time, Aster held up two fingers. “Sure, Klak and Nadle may mean well, but as we speak, there's some Arc or admiral running around. He probably has the blood of a few million ordinary people on his hands, maybe even more. And after your Mother has fallen, some piece of shit in the State Department who won't let even Klak hold him to account will decide he should be in charge of what’s left. Some new threat will come along, and that'll be the new go-to reason for why freedom has to remain an empty word. Malchior pissed away its best chance to help. Klak and Nadle finally remembered I exist and are very sorry for the delay? I’m flattered, Rain, but I’m also really not that special.” She had definitely come a long way from the twenty-something who, once Allman had risen to power, had immediately suggested to David Robert Jones and Richard that they should make for Malchior IV, that well-known beacon of freedom.

“And finally,” She held up three fingers, as if to emphasise the point, and suddenly smiled at him for perhaps the first time since they’d met. It was a sight for sore eyes - while, if you thought about it for a second, there was nothing unusual about members of a race capable of shape-shifting taking up unusually attractive forms, a smile was a smile no matter what. “I saw how you reacted to the menu. The labels are, frankly, petty, but it’s true that our sense of taste isn’t quite as strong as Stäbils. The only ones who ever order from that side of the menu are weirdos or people who want to make a point. Consider yourself warned.”

-----

<Yari III, Von Budberg’s Office>

“Of course I don’t trust him. He wants to succeed Eachan as President. ‘Trust’ is a contradiction.” Paul shrugged. “But if our plan works out, and he wins by a landslide, not only will we make a lot of money, but for the next 30 years every ambitious right-wing politician and CEO in the Confederacy will be willing to sign over their firstborn in exchange for our help. Even aliens might start queuing up. We’ll have the empire by the balls… I can live with having to look over my shoulder if that’s the reward."

The two soon arrived at the building where Siper and Igor were renting a flat as a temporary hideout. Paul punched in the access code, allowing them to walk up the stairs and to the flat.

-----

<Yari System, Cédric Av-Kartin’s Ship>

With Richard and Vladimir satisfied that the New Order was continuing to keep its promises, Cédric Av-Kartin turned their ship around and began to return to Yari III. The journey was long, and most of it passed in silence. Eventually, though, Cédric decided to ask Richard a question he hadn’t really cared to ask before - after all, this was just another assignment to him, and he wasn’t particularly interested in Yari III or the politics of the Tanari Confederation in themselves.

“Mr. Branley,” Cédric said. “When you succeed, and Yari is under your control… what will you actually do? What happens to the non-Shifters, the, er, Stables?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Richard said, his words dripping with a venom that had never really been there before his near-death experience and subsequent recruitment by Blackout. Were Aster there to witness it, she would have found the hate and the bluntness in his words unrecognisable, even compared to his already radical self. “We’ll need them for a while, at least some of them. Weapons don’t build themselves. But once we’ve put an end to the Confederation, once we’re free, well… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Perhaps Sefer will have some tips to offer.”

-----

<Malchior IV, Near Anh-Dante Cemetery>

The guard’s laser fire simply bounced off the rapidly spinning field of Void Magic around “Lilith”/Blackout. He leaped high into the air, and started to fly towards Vell and the guards when he noticed the projectiles Salem had launched at him. In a shockingly, though still not sufficiently quick reaction, he used his power to essentially hijack one of the projectiles and send it back at Salem, and then do the same with another and redirect it at his Malchiorian targets, but was finally struck by the third, which pounded him into the ground and kicked a thick cloud of debris and smoke up into the air, obscuring Salem and the Malchiorians’ view of him.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

Praxter sighed and took a long sip of his drink. Part of him told him that maybe this wasn’t the best time and place to be considering as important a decision as this. But on the other hand, the cat was already out of the bag.

“Actually, Tayne makes a valid point. If they’re sincere, it could end up being really good for us. And the Vrai are probably the only big galactic villain who have even really tried to seriously clean up their act.” he said.

“Hang on, you can’t seriously be considering this.” a shocked Sally replied. “The whole point of this place has always been to get away from galactic politics.”

“I know. But I’d be surprised if Tayne were alone in his thoughts.” Praxter finished his drink. “This is too big a deal for me to just reject it outright. I’ll have to put it to the crew. Let them all have their say.”

“You’re the captain, Praxter. You have to actually make a decision every once in a while.” Sally said, obviously irritated but also unsurprised.

“We’re not in CIC and this isn’t the sort of decision I have the authority to make on my own.” Praxter sounded a bit more sure of himself this time. “I’ll make the announcement in the morning. See what the reaction is. And we’ll go from there.”

-----

<Malchior IV, Presidential Palace>

“Mr. Vice President, please understand that the Dachori are not just some rivals of ours. They are the only race in recorded history to have ever ruled over most of this galaxy for even a short period. So many have tried, or are trying. Sefer Yetzirah, yes, but also the Voids, the Nephilim, the Amun Collective, Edward Allman, or the military-industrial complex that, for a time, sadly dominated our proud empire. All of them could only dream of what the Dachori accomplished.” said the Ambassador. “Their ambitions know no bounds. Their warlords butchered trillions throughout the stars. Eventually a coalition led by us and the Phantom Lords defeated them and scattered their race to the four winds. But they have never ceased to be a threat. Even now, the Di Armechios plot on Vongola, and at the same time Malcovus has put himself in a position where he’s on the cusp of leading the FSA. They are utterly consistent. You cannot trust them. Wherever they go, they seek power at all costs. We have learned that, and in time, so will you.”

“We are fighting the Di Armechios too, though our methods are currently under review in the wake of our election, with a view to their intensification. We must all find the optimal method of protecting ourselves. The New Order is a disturbing threat, and we are duty-bound to oppose it in the correct fashion, but your chosen method is not sustainable. You present foregone conclusions as hypotheticals. It is not possible for the FSA to survive when it includes so many unstable states and authoritarians who are only looking out for themselves. One secretary-general election alone threatens to unravel it. We have ambassadors and Inquisitors throughout the galaxy, including in FSA member-states. Many of those states believe that, in the wake of Geihmurs, the FSA cannot protect them. They could attempt neutrality to save themselves from the New Order, but without another protector, Sefer could simply ignore that. And the new Secretary-General could choose to punish them. Yes, I fear the last hope for the FSA was your Krieger. Now that he is gone, the FSA stands on the verge of being reshaped into something terrible, and adding more members at the last minute cannot meaningfully alter its course. We - Vrai and Malchiorian - can only decide how to mitigate the damage. Mr. Vice President, I am trying to help you.”

-----

<Vongola, City of Sards>

“We should discount nothing, Joshua. We live in strange times.” Kane said. “I can send one of my best agents to help you investigate, if you like.” His mind began to try and join dots. ‘Pandemonium regnat’. ‘Chaos reigns’. And possible New Order involvement. No, he thought. Surely it couldn’t be. What business could he have here?

Before he could pursue that train of thought any further, Kane noticed out of the corner of his eye a light flashing on a small device lying on the table next to him. “Anyway, I’m afraid I have a few other pressing matters to attend to. Good luck, Joshua. Speak to you soon!” He ended the call, and pressed a button on the device. Within a few seconds, another holographic projection appeared in front of him, this one of a Vrai.

“Nehal, it’s you. I was worried.” the startled Kane said. “You weren’t responding to my messages.”

“My apologies, Tom.” Inquisitor Nehal’s voice was deep, yet quite monotone. He was visibly thinking about each word he used, the language being foreign to him. “There is… much to deal with back home now. What did you need?”

“I feared the Trailblazer would not be enough to stop a VPR bombing run. I was hoping you would be able to provide additional air support. It worked in the end… just. It overloaded just as it had eliminated their bombers.”

“Good, good. You were fortunate it worked, then. We… would not have been able to provide air support. Not now.”

Kane was aghast. “That’s not what we agreed to, Nehal!”

“Circumstances have changed. There is a new government back home. They want to be more aggressive against Di Armechio, but they would prefer if Kozin and his faction took over Vongola. You are not liberal enough for them.”

“So is that it? It’s over?” Kane looked down at the ground, not wanting to even look his old friend in the eye. His greatest moment of triumph in the fight against the VPR seemed to have turned to ashes within seconds.

Thomas and Nehal had been friends since their youth, both of them being scions of some of the wealthiest families on their respective homeworlds. They had been business partners once upon a time, but their joint venture faded away due to the increasingly isolationist and socialist policies of Vrai governments from Gheor Klar’s Quiet Revolution onwards making it increasingly untenable, and Nehal moved on to diplomatic service out of a sense of patriotic duty to the Vrai Empire. Once the Vongolan Civil War broke out, and Kane became one of the leaders of the Rebel Front, Nehal was named Inquisitor by the Vrai government, his task being to determine the best way to pursue their age-old objective of keeping the Dachori from re-establishing themselves as a power.

The Vrai interrupted by raising his hand. He then stroked his chin with his six-fingered hand as he replied. “They have not yet even approached Kozin. I can stall for time for now, and maybe convince them it’s wiser to stick with you whatever he says. But I will need results.”

“I have results. Sards is under my control now. And Figlio’s running dog, Julio, is dead, his death now a symbol. Kozin has lost face. The balance of power within the Rebel Front will hopefully start to shift.”

“Good, good. I will inform the government. Have your technicians send me the incident report on the Trailblazer as soon as possible. Good luck, Thomas.”

-----

<Vongola, Near Joshua Kozin’s Camp>

Within minutes of Kane ending the call, guards near Joshua Kozin’s location found, much to their surprise, a Vrai at their perimeter. She was seemingly unarmed, and proclaimed herself to be an emissary from the Vrai Empire interested in speaking to Kozin immediately.

-----

<Silver Eachan’s Call with Treveya>

“That’s right.” Silver Eachan said flatly. “While I appreciate your support, why should I trust that the recording you’ve sent me is genuine? If I get caught releasing forgeries from so-called anonymous sources, it’ll muddy the waters at best, and at worst, backfire on me.”

-----

<Tanari Prime Capital City>

As she walked along the beach, Freya Jackson took one look at the flyer the eager young man had handed her and frowned. The flyer was official campaign material from the Jones/Peres campaign, and it was filled with all sorts of buzzwords and pablum, beginning with the inspiring Morgan Peres quote, ‘The shape of our democracy is the issue that affects every other issue’. Who is this shit for? Why are the Liberals always like this?, she thought as she crumpled the flyer and tossed it in the bin.

As soon as Freya had ensured the striking workers from the factory who had trapped themselves in roadblock form would receive care - while she was now personally able to confirm that the effect of whatever was causing the mode-lock did not extend beyond Wilson City itself, safely moving what were temporarily, for all intents and purposes, conscious blocks of superdense metal was a tricky affair - she immediately travelled to the capital city, planning to start her efforts by using her status as a member of Parliament to demand some sort of answer from the federal government. After having, somewhat inevitably, failed to obtain one through official channels, her next step was to head to a seaside bar, where she had arranged to meet a disgruntled civil servant from the Ministry of Defence. As she waited for her source, she sat at an outdoors table and ordered a pint of Giancarlo cider.

Within a few minutes, Freya’s phone buzzed. It was a text message from the civil servant, who had apparently gotten caught up in a meeting and would be ‘very late’. Freya cursed and began trying to figure out what her next move should be, when potential salvation suddenly arrived in the most unlikely source possible, a man whose ship had just docked in the nearby harbour. She practically shot out of her seat, her chestnut brown hair briefly flying up as she did so, to block the man’s path.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t William Douglas Reed.” Freya briefly flashed an ID card. “Freya Jackson, MP for Wilson City East. I think you and I have a lot to talk about.”

-----

<Malchior IV, Diplomatic Function>

“Name your price, Lisbet.” the Pasajem whispered. “Your vote could be crucial, and you and I both know this Evangelise Ascheron is totally untested. She could lead the FSA to ruin!”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.” replied the Ambassador to the FSA of the Most Serene Republic of Alpha Centauri, shaking her head and sipping some sort of translucent green alcoholic drink. “We are a long-lived race. Some of the Supreme Council lived through the wars. They’ll never accept a Rider sec-gen. Unless something changes, Ascheron it’ll have to be.”

As their ill-fated negotiation continued, a very muscular, bald man wearing sunglasses, a black T-shirt, and jeans hung around the two diplomats for a bit before eventually moving on to another spot. The two noticed, but decided to ignore him. The man was probably just a security guard, and he certainly wasn’t showing much interest in their conversation, nor - they cruelly agreed - did he seem bright enough to understand the implications.

Turel, however, understood the implications all too well. A loyalist of the di Armechios and the ideals of the Vongolan People’s Republic, he’d recently been sent to Malchior IV as Figlio’s ambassador - of sorts - to the FSA. For now, very few worlds officially recognised the VPR, although in practice some contact existed, so for now, Turel mostly spent his time exploiting his somewhat unconventional, given his function, appearance and dress sense to gather information to feed back to Figlio. In this particular case, given Figlio’s most recent alliance, the information did not particularly please him.

He was now milling about another group of diplomats, eavesdropping on their conversation while giving the appearance of not giving a heck. Once again, one look at him ‘confirmed’ to the diplomats that they were safe to continue their discussion. An argument seemed to be breaking out between the ambassadors from Alaine and Harentho Prime on the one hand, and Corrantia on the other - the first two were seemingly committed to Ascheron, the first on similar grounds to Alpha Centauri and the second due to his conviction that Evangelise Ascheron was the candidate most likely to pose a threat to the New Order, while their Corrantian counterpart felt threatened by the recent alliance between Ascheron and Silver Eachan. At the table next to them, the aides of the ambassadors from FT-530 and Cold Ground were discussing their governments’ plan to sell their planets’ votes to the candidate who could offer the bigger bribe, and trying to convince their counterpart from another, neighbouring world to join them, although she insisted her government was committed to Ascheron.

Figlio will be pleased, Turel thought, as he silently noted all the information that was just falling into his lap.

-----

<Alcanta Valley, Malchior IV>

After the stranger's response, Kakamu quickly placed his mask back onto his face, feeling it connect magnetically to the metal that was intertwined with his skin. It wasn't that the mask would do much to conceal his identity here - nobody would ever mistake a thickly-armored, red-skinned, elemental biomechanoid for a Malchiorian, after all - but the mask was more than just another layer of metal atop his body. Created by the Emperor herself as part of the process that had transformed him from a lowly tribesman into a divine being, Kakamu's mask seemed to have been gifted a mind of its own. Wherever he went, it seemed to afford him clarity by interfacing with his thoughts, never allowing him to lose sight of his objectives. On the battlefield, this mask optimized his battle techniques and enabled him to hone into targets of strategic value, like a simpler, more instinctual version of the Virtual Interface many modern warriors employed on the battlefield. These abilities quickly earned Kakamu a reputation as a fearsome warrior whose skills seemed to excel those of his peers who had received just as much, if not even more, combat experience than he.

Conversely, the Emperor had warned him not to remove the mask for longer than necessary, as doing so would cause him to become disorientated and confused. He had experienced these effects firsthand on the occasions that the mask had been removed from his face, either purposefully or accidentally, he became more confused and disoriented the longer the mask was separated from him, but his clarity would return almost instantly upon placing it back on his face. Thus, he had taken to calling it the 'Mask of Clarity', though there were few who knew of its nature. Kakamu could not allow his allies, and especially not his enemies, to know that some of his skills originated from an entity separate from himself, for his allies would think that he had earned his title of Arc through an unfair advantage, and his enemies would see it as a weakness to be exploited.

Yet there was one thing Kakamu didn't understand. The mask was also supposed to protect him from unwanted telepathic intrusions, but what he had just experienced could only have been a telepathic intrusion. He had seen his own memories plucked out of his mind and presented to him like images from a picture book. It seemed that whatever entity he had encountered possessed abilities far more powerful than what his mask could defend him from, perhaps even powerful enough to transport him halfway across the galaxy if what this stranger claimed was true...

...which brought him back to the stranger. With the mask safely back on his face, Kakamu examined the man in front of him. He appeared to be a human dressed in a plain, faded yellow shirt and khaki jeans, leaning on a shovel. The man smiled like he knew something Kakamu didn't. Kakamu didn't like that.

"Malchior IV?" Kakamu replied incredulously as he stepped towards the stranger, his grip tightening on the still-lit Guardian Fire Spear. "Is that where we are right now?"

"Yep," the man said, still smiling. "At least, it was the last time I checked."

"And would you like to explain how I ended up here?"

"If I had to venture a guess, probably the same way I did."

The man then freed a hand from the shovel to gesture around the clearing Kakamu was standing in, drawing a circle around the area with his finger. As Kakamu followed its motion, he noticed that he had been standing in the center of a large circular ring that occupied almost the entire space of the clearing. The ring was made of a rusted, bronze-like metal and was divided into metre-long segments which each bore a symbol that Kakamu did not recognize, with each segment partially obscured by the grass that grew around them.

"What is-"

"It's an exit point," the stranger answered, returning to leaning on his shovel with both hands. "Or an entry point. Probably both. That's why there's no trees where you're standing, if they grow too large it just sends them away."

Kakamu immediately kneeled down and launched himself across the clearing, landing outside the ring a few feet away from the human. He didn't know whether to believe him, but he wasn't about to risk being whisked somewhere else now that he was about to get a handle on his bearings - especially not if there was a chance the ring would send him to the hellish, machinist landscape he had been trapped in a few minutes ago.

"Yeah. An entry and an exit point. It's how I got here, after all," the stranger continued.

"And who exactly are you?" Kakamu pointed the Guardian Fire Spear at the man's chest, letting the flame at its tip continue to burn. "You don't look like one of the missing colonists from Nil'nara. You've been here for a while."

"Very astute. In fact, I've been here for so long, my dinner's getting cold. Please excuse me," the man replied. With that, the man nonchalantly let go of the shovel and began to walk away into the forest.

Kakamu chuckled in disbelief for a moment, lamenting the man's foolishness. Fortunately, he knew exactly what he needed to do to get his attention. Channelling more of his elemental power into the spear, Kakamu charged an intense blast of fire that he then launched at a tree close to the man, causing a large section of its bark to explode and setting the surrounding area alight with burning embers. The man instantly threw his arms up in self-defense, but lowered them when he realized the attack was not targeted at him directly. Instead, he looked back to Kakamu and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You can come along. Just please watch what you're doing. I don't think the Malchiorian authorities would appreciate you burning this forest to the ground. In fact, neither of us would."

"Then it's time to start making a little more sense," Kakamu demanded, raising his spear for another blast. "Who are you and how did I get here?"

The man frowned. "I can answer one of those questions, but like I said, dinner's getting cold. Perhaps you'd better come with me. Just put out the fire on the way. I know you can."

The stranger then turned and began to walk away again. Kakamu was tired, lost, and frustrated, but he decided that he could humor the man for a little while - he was in unfamiliar territory, after all. He absorbed the heat from the area to extinguish the lingering fires and followed in the man's footsteps, proceeding deeper into the forest.

---

Eventually, Kakamu and the human arrived at a large steel door which served as the entrance to a large metal complex that was buried underground deep within the forest. Upon entering the complex, the door slammed shut behind them and rows of electrical lights activated to illuminate the interior, revealing a network of wide metal corridors filled with industrial machines and equipment. Saying nothing, the man led Kakamu to another room that contained a makeshift kitchen of sorts, complete with a fridge, an oven, and a small table with two steel chairs. The man offered Kakamu a seat, and he accepted, attaching the Guardian Fire Spear to his back before sitting down.

"Your home?" Kakamu asked.

"For now, yes," the man replied, leaning down to take something out of the deactivated oven. He stood back up with a small, cooked animal in his hands that he then placed onto some kind of metal disk, which was obviously not originally intended to be used as dining equipment, on the table. Before Kakamu could ask what it was, the man had already sat down and begun to eat, using what looked like a combat knife to slice and eat his meal.

Now, Kakamu was even more bewildered. He had assumed that 'dinner' had been a codeword for something, but it seemed like this man really was talking about his food all along. Kakamu watched curiously as the man tucked in, seeming to savor every bite.

"So..." Kakamu interrupted, putting his hands together and leaning on the table.

"Mm?" the man responded, glancing up from his meal while licking his fingers.

"Got any answers?"

The man chuckled. "Alright, son. What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with names. You are?"

The man shook his head. "No can do. I told you earlier I can answer one of those questions. 'Who are you' or 'How did I get here'."

Kakamu groaned and placed one of his hands over his mask.

"So, that leaves us with 'How did I get here'," the man continued. "Like I said, that ring outside, the ring you appeared from, is an entry and exit point. The device itself was built by an ancient civilization... I suspect a precursor civilization... that existed long before any of the empires that currently occupy the great expanse. This precursor civilization, from what I gather, used these rings to quickly travel between the planets they visited, or occupied. That would explain how I was able to use the ring on my world to get to the ring on this one."

"Your world," Kakamu interjected, pointing a finger at the man. "So you're not from Malchior."

"No, not exactly," the man smiled. As he gave his response, his eyes seemed to flash with a golden light before returning to normal. "I could blend in if I wanted, but I'd prefer not to be found. It's safer this way."

"And yet I found you without even trying."

"No you didn't. I found you. I revealed myself to you because you seemed different than the kind of people who usually emerge from that ring. Like I said earlier, it's not every day I meet someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Kakamu asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A child of the Arokazek."

Kakamu fell silent, the metal plates of his mask contorting with his face to form a threatening grimace. "You're familiar with them?"

"They've been a scourge on this galaxy for far too long," the man continued, taking another bite out of his meal. "I know one of their creations when I see them. I mean, you look... improved... advanced, somehow, but I recognize their handiwork all the same."

"You seem to know a lot about me," Kakamu deduced. "You seemed to know that I could put out those fires I started, too. How?"

"Call it a hunch. You threatened me with that flaming spear of yours before you turned it towards the forest. The Arokazek wouldn't bestow one of their creations with destructive powers that they couldn't reverse the consequences of. That's not their style. They build just as much as they destroy."

"Except that's bullshit. I didn't get these powers from the Arokazek. I got them from Emperor Sefer Yetzirah of the New Order."

Now it was the human's turn to fall silent. He gulped and slowly reached under the table, presumably for a weapon, but Kakamu grabbed his arm and twisted it back before he could produce anything against him. The man winced in pain, but did not struggle against Kakamu's grasp. Kakamu lit a small fire in the palm of his other hand and held it close to the man's face, threatening to burn him.

"I think it's time for some honesty out of you," Kakamu snarled. "Are you behind all this? Did you take me from Nil'nara to mess with my head? It didn't go so well for the last couple of fools who tried."

"Alright, I'm telepathic, so shoot me!" the man pleaded, starting to wriggle in his grasp. "I looked inside your mind when you took your mask off after arriving through the ring, saw some of your powers and recent history... that's all, I swear!"

"Convince me," Kakamu growled, bringing the fire closer to his face.

"I'm a Dachori. I have telepathic powers, but nothing like the creature that was inside your mind earlier... I would have stayed longer in those memories, but... I got scared. I haven't felt that kind of power since..."

"Since what?"

"Since... the fall of my world."

"Continue," Kakamu said, extending a single finger to touch the man's cheek to intimidate him further.

Suddenly, the ground shook and a loud, metallic banging sound interrupted the interrogation. Crumbs of soil that leaked through the gaps of the metal ceiling fell onto their shoulders.

"Oh god," the stranger spluttered.

"What? What is that?" Kakamu demanded, snuffing out the fire in his hand and grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.

"Well... I didn't choose to stay here just because it was close to the ring. Alcanta Valley has a sort of... legendary reputation. They say that it's a perfect hiding place for those who don't want to be found by the outside world, but... it doesn't offer that same protection from those who are already here. You see, we were far from the first ones to emerge from the ring into this place. And we... are not alone."

<Yorak, Restroom>

“How the fuck did you do it?”

Morgan Peres awkwardly looked Neil Donovan in the eye. Even though they were alone in the restroom, Neil had chosen the one urinal right next to his, and apparently, he wasn’t done making him uncomfortable. “I don’t follow.” he finally said.

“You fucked it. You had the easiest job in history, running against Silver Eachan, and you fucked it. And somehow, you’re on the ticket again. How?”

Morgan looked up at the ceiling. “The party didn’t know what to do. I provided a solution. That’s all.”

“Anyone could have done that.”

“Yeah, but you fucking didn’t, did you?”

“I don’t need to be Vice President.” Neil began to zip up his trousers. “I already have the best job in the Confederation.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ve also heard the follow-up.” Morgan smiled smugly as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands, soon followed by Neil. “‘Why do no big-name politicians ever make it out of the Trilateral? Why doesn’t Homeworld care about us?’” he said in a funny voice.

“Fuck Homeworld.” Neil said, turning on the tap and squeezing a bit of soap onto his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before too. You’re all the fucking same, out here...”

“You sure have heard a lot of stuff.” Neil said tersely as he began to dry his hands.

“Well, we’ve lived through interesting times. It teaches you things about human nature.”

“No,” Neil said as he moved towards the exit. “You cooled your heels on Malchior while I lived through interesting times. If that’s who Homeworld wants, then, as I said; fuck Homeworld.”

-----

<Yorak, Meeting Room>

Morgan entered the room soon after Neil. Waiting for them were David Robert Jones as well as two holograms, one of which was of Anna Lundby, and the other of an older, slightly grey-haired woman. All of them seemed to be eyeing Morgan slightly suspiciously, but he thought nothing of it.

“I see everyone’s here.” Jones finally said. “Mr. Donovan, I understand you had a proposal for us?”

“Yes. Since you’re already here, on Yorak, I wanted to propose a grand campaign tour of the Trilateral. We already know the inner worlds will split roughly down the middle. If you’re going to win the election, ideally by a landslide, you need high turnout on all three of our colonies. Anna here winning on Yari will help with that, but you can never be too careful.” Neil explained.

“Can I have him last? No disrespect, but a few big events just before our own election would be a big show of strength for both of us.” Anna turned to the older woman. “If that’s okay with you, Beatriz.”

“Security arrangements will be a bit of a pain, but I’ll manage. I certainly hope no one here wants to see ‘Sukhondese Syndicates Assassinate Presidential Candidate’ on the holo-net news, though.” replied Beatriz, drawing mild laughter from everyone, even Morgan Peres, on whom the joke was seemingly lost. “People around here will love the attention, though. Good idea, Neil.”

Morgan cut in. “That would be a big change to our schedule. And the inner worlds might notice...”

“Our schedule has already gone to hell just from us diverting here.” Jones shrugged. “Anyone on the inner worlds who would care was never voting for me anyway. And there are almost as many votes to be won in the Trilateral as there are there.”

Jones looked around the room, recalling each person’s biography in turn. There was Beatriz Saavedra, the new PM of Sukhonia, elected on a pledge to finally smash the cartels the previous CUSP government had, depending on who you asked, failed to tackle or allowed to prosper, and prior to that, had led the armed insurgency that eventually led to Sukhonia being the first world of the Tanari Confederation to liberate itself from Allmanism before the Takemikazuchi or Malchiorians could do so. Likewise, Neil had led the general strike on Yorak that, combined with the actions of the armed resistance there, had forced the Allmanite colonial governors there to surrender, and Anna had helped put together a similar effort on Yari III, although there the authorities managed to hold out until the armistice (and indeed brought forward said armistice, due to the rebellions in the Trilateral leading to forces being diverted and allowing Sefer to reach the homeworld more quickly). They were making sensible suggestions for how to shake up his campaign. And then there was Morgan Peres, who was merely nitpicking, and whose fly was open. Jones knew he wasn’t exactly making a choice based purely on competence, but he nevertheless couldn’t help but wonder if he could have done better. Not that there was much he could do about that for now.

“I’ve made my decision. A few days each on Yorak, then Sukhonia, then Yari to coincide with their election day. Then we head to the inner worlds as planned.”

-----

OOS: Waiting on Red, Ynot, Clay, and Lib for the rest.

<Team Gamma, Narayanastra>

Quick Billy entered into the Missing M. A few surviving buccaneers started to rush in, as Quick Billy walked across the bay and towards the hangar. Suddenly, he swerved in shock to find Akzer, alive, standing smugly at the other end of the corridor.

“H-how,” Quick Billy croaked.

“Not sure, but earlier there were great medics out there. Miracles of modern Malchiorian medicine, I suppose!” Akzer said gleefully.

It took every ounce of willpower in his body to ignore the whispers in his mind that urged him to use Blackout’s power for revenge on Quick Billy. Akzer decided it would be better to let him live for now, as he knew there would be a better opportunity for revenge later. Besides, he wouldn't want to risk a war with Keichi...yet.

“Oh, that’s…” Quick Billy breathed. “That’s good news!”

Quick Billy preferred not to address the matter any further. Something about Akzer’s devilish grin and the strange feeling he was getting seemed to indicate that Akzer knew about Quick Billy’s betrayal. He did seem to indicate as such after Quick Billy had shot him earlier in the mission anyway. But the fact that Akzer did not address the matter gave Billy some hope; perhaps the near-death experience made everything a blur for Akzer, meaning that he would fail to remember who tried to kill him.

“Right, let’s get the hell out of here!” Quick Billy shouted as both of them rushed to the bridge.

-

<Teams Alpha and Beta, Narayanastra>

A group of Kracians began to open fire on The Shadow Operative, damaging his exo-suit. He grimaced underneath his mask, then raised his hands.

Suddenly, the Kracians began to scream. They dropped their weapons as their minds, their minds assaulted by horrific visions. They were impotent with fear. The Shadow Operative turned around and quietly darted to the September Dawn corvette.  

“You ain’t exactly a featherweight yourself, Ash!” Lalli spat.

“Where the hell’s Miss Mental Shield?” Fourteen spat as he rushed towards his own ship. He glanced at the Amelia and frowned. He seemed as though he would offer to help the group, but hesitated, then stopped himself. Instead, he rushed towards the Missing M with other pirates. Fourteen looked around, mind filled with unease as he hoped to find 404. He attempted to scan the minds of everyone entering to see if they had spotted her nearby.

“Gotta love Fourteen,” Lalli coughed. “You never know when he’s going to help or when he’s going to screw you over.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, get on board!” Regina shouted. She jogged up to Ashton and Lalli and started to help him to the ship.

The group (including any other character who wants to tag along) entered into Lalli’s ship. Lalli limped to a nearby lounge chair near the storage bay, clutching his wound. He looked up at Ashton and closed his eyes, catching his breath.

“Helps to have a girlfriend with enhanced strength,” Lalli cackled, then coughed. He waved his hand, then a lampshade that wasn’t there before landed right next to Ashton for some reason. Lalli opened his eyes, a pained but grateful expression forming on his face.

“Thank you, Ash,” he wheezed. “Seriously, thank you.”

Regina sat on the captain’s chair and flipped a series of switches. A loud creaking noise echoed through the Narayanastra’s hangar as Lalli’s ship began to rise.

“Hold onto your butts!” she warned everyone aboard. The ship turned and flew towards the edge of the hangar.

-

<September Dawn, Narayanastra>

Onyx nodded at Herd Stir and The Shadow Operative as she strapped into her seat.

“Colonel Hawkes, Lt. Buckner, all Malchiorian and FSA units, do you copy? What is your location?” Onyx asked through her radio.

No response.

“I’ll check it out!” Herd Stir offered as they oozed out of the restraints and tumbled out of the corvette. Herd Stir then headed towards Buckner and Hawkes.

“Soldiers, let’s move out!” they yelled at the duo. Suddenly, a group of about a dozen New Order troopers making an escape attempt came upon the trio and trained their weapons at them.

One of the troopers pulled out a frost grenade and flung it at the group. Herd Stir, believing it was a regular grenade, quickly enveloped it to protect Hawkes and Buckner. The grenade exploded. An icy layer began to form over Herd's body. They looked to Hawkes and Buckner in agony.

"Save yourselves," they ordered weakly before they froze entirely.

Two of the New Order troopers started to fire their weapons at the frozen Herd Stir, beginning to shatter them. The others began to fire at Hawkes and Buckner, hoping to kill the other Malchiorians as well.


-

<Outside the Narayanastra, Asukara System>

The remaining ships in the fleet, pirate and FSA alike, either maintained fire on the New Order fleet or jumped to hyperspace. It was going to be a close one.

A squadron of fighters engaged in evasive maneuvers as debris from the Narayanastra floated around them. One fighter, piloted by ace Squadron Leader Casra Ramos, barrel-rolled its way out of the debris and fired its torpedoes at a larger piece, providing a pathway for the remaining fighters to escape.

“Squadron Leader Ramos,” one of the other pilots, Jeremiah “Jerry” Solemn, said through the radio, “We have some debris near the hangar doors!”

“Roger, Jerry,” Casra replied. “Kaori!”

“Way ahead of you!” September Dawn pilot Kaori Aizawa replied. Both Aizawa and Ramos accelerated their fighters and fired torpedoes, clearing away the largest chunk of rubble. The squadron destroyed the rest of it using their lasers.

-

<Malchior IV, Near Anh-Dante Cemetery>

“Shit!” one of the Malchiorian guards shouted. The group ushered Dr. Vell away, but the missile tore into the ground. The explosion flung them forwards. Dr. Vell crawled towards the sidewalk.

-

<Presidential Palace, Malchior IV>

Everything was quiet after the Vrai Ambassador spoke. Emily finally raised up a point to break the silence.

“Mr. Vice President, not to endorse or agree with anything the Ambassador is saying,” she disclaimed. “...but the threat of the Dachori only seems ancient to us. There are plenty of Dachori alive today who are old enough to remember the Rider-Vrai War, not to mention all the other species with long life spans.”

“Correct,” Weir conceded. “But in my lifespan, I got to see what the Vrai were once like too, with all due respect. I served in the Vrai Wars, Mr. Ambassador. I also know that after your war with the Riders, you, the Phantom Lords, and the Dantos Cal engaged in multiple atrocities yourselves, even when all the warlords were gone decades later. Nevertheless, 30 years in politics has given me insight as to what true change looks like, and I know your society has changed for the better. However, I can’t guarantee everyone will see it that way. So what then? Your coalition ends up being smaller than you would have hoped, and before you know it, the Emperor’s knocking at your door with her brainwashed legions.”

Weir paused, then shook his head.

“You are right, you are trying to help us. As we are trying to help you. We’re both fighting for the same thing,” he said. “We just have disagreements on who we need to have on our team. Krieger hated the idea of ex-Allmanite and the Lurians being a part of the FSA, but President Vell and I know it’s a necessary evil. You mentioned the unease everyone is feeling, but I think there’s a silver lining to all of this. First, David Robert Jones, the great reformer, is running to be President of the Confederation. Second, we have no record of any contact between Gaius Malcovus and the di Armechios, meaning there’s no conspiracy or collusion going on between them. Third, Uteriach’s whereabouts may be unknown, but not everyone in the VPR is necessarily a fan of his son. Fourth, both the Tanari War and Vongolan Civil War have dealt a death blow to Uteriach’s ideology, keeping it contained to a few systems. That means, no Dachori is going to get close to ruling the universe anytime soon. Fifth, we are currently undertaking an operation to take care of the weapon the New Order used to destroy Geihmurs.”

“It’s true,” Emily agreed. “The stars are aligning. If Evangelise Ascheron loses, then we just have to figure out how to rein in Malcovus while we take on the New Order, and we’re set. We could use someone like you to accomplish that, Mr. Ambassador.”

Vice President Weir smiled, allowing the pair’s statements to sink in. Weir was the ideal choice for VP due to his deft political and diplomatic acumen accrued through his many years of experience in Malchiorian politics. A good balance against Klak’s youth and relative inexperience. The war hero and the all-star senator: a match made in heaven...at least, that’s what the Malchiorian voters thought.

Emily herself was a well-established policy professional and lawyer with many years of experience under her belt. The President-Elect Committee unanimously approved of her hiring as Chief of Staff.

Suddenly, Weir frowned, pondering something that the Ambassador had told him.

“Nonetheless...I will speak to President Klak about your proposal,” he offered. Weir chuckled. “He always goes to me for my thoughts on executive action, like that whole Malchior VI riot debacle. We’re a good team.”

“I agree,” Emily affirmed, nodding with a neutral expression on her face. “We should coordinate our message soon, and hear Jefferson Bethlehem's thoughts on it as well. Mr. Ambassador, what are your thoughts?”

-

<Silver Eachan’s Call with Treveya>

Treveya grinned. The hologram seemed to clear up around her face, revealing a visage covered by a white mask that seemed to swirl around a single eyehole. But the rest of her body was scrambled.

“We both work in a business where trust is in short supply,” she replied. “So, I’ll send you a longer recording, one that provides context and includes things that Jones and President Vell said to my source earlier. It proves that it took place after Jones’ campaign announcement on board his ship earlier today. That is, of course, if you are willing to work together.”

-

<FSA General Parliamentary Assembly, Malchior IV>

The delegates were all assembled in the titanic chamber which seemed to stretch into eternity. They sat at their designated pods that had holo-placards labeling each delegation. At a far corner was a sitting area for observers, which included Bourbon and many others, including Turel and an agent for the Pirate Lords of Liquid Metallicon. Next to Turel was an empty seat for a mystery guest. At the other end of the titanic chamber was a seating area for inter-galactic journalists, which was now standing room only.

Silence fell over the room after the invocation, and Acting Secretary-General Vanna M’orv stood up at a podium at the center of her pod. The pod floated to the center of the room. The green-skinned humanoid diplomat smiled.

“Honored chair, fellow delegates,” she boomed. “We are gathered here today in spite of all odds to exercise one of our most important functions. The New Order attacked a Vonillan station. They also destroyed the planet Geihmurs. And then, vile forces struck at the very heart of the Free Systems Alliance. But our resolve has never been stronger!”

Countless delegates cheered and applauded, others chanting the celebratory noises of their own species.

“Already, we are turning the tide! A brave FSA squadron, including many volunteer forces, have destroyed the Narayanastra, the New Order super-weapon that destroyed Geihmurs!”

The crowd cheered even louder, many of them unaware of the fact that the “volunteers” she mentioned were, in fact, pirates and mercenaries.

“We will honor all those we lost, including our cherished friend, Special FSA Envoy Blake Olivio Krieger. Among the items on the docket is a vote to fund the rebuilding of the areas that were attacked a few days ago, along with the creation of a memorial park honoring those who died in the recent attacks, including the FSA attack, the attack on Vonilla, and the destruction of Geihmurs. Furthermore, under this draft resolution, the reconstructed wing of our headquarters will be renamed as the Krieger Building!”

The crowd cheered again. What Vanna omitted, of course, was that the monument would contain a plaque honoring Gabriel Ascheron. The Lurians initially pressed for a statue honoring their ‘deceased’ leader after he was killed in a car bombing, but numerous delegations objected to this proposal due to the dictator’s history. A last-minute deal negotiated the creation of a plaque in Ascheron’s honor, so long as the memorial also contained an informational hologram detailing the Lurian’s...colorful history in the war and beyond.

What none of them knew, of course, was that Gabriel Ascheron was still alive, just inhabiting a Shifter body. A body that was now running for Secretary-General.  

“I urge the passage of this draft resolution to honor those who sacrificed their lives bravely for the Free Systems Alliance, for our democracy, for freedom throughout the galaxy!”

More cheers.

“I also urge that you all keep a close look at the proposals regarding the Vykonian Ascendancy, the Heyerdahl Corporation, Ordon V, and Faul’d.”

Fewer claps this time. Vanna cleared her throat.

“But first...this august body must make a crucial choice: whether Ambassador Gaius Malcovus or Emperor Evangelise Ascheron should be the next Secretary-General. I have no doubt that, regardless of your choice, our new leadership will rise to the occasion. Together, with our new Secretary-General at the helm, we will stand against whatever Sefer Yetzirah is building on Bendu or anything else the New Order has planned against our beloved, united peoples. We will stop the terrorists who attacked us days ago! We will continue to bring peace, freedom, and justice to the galaxy, and protect the rights of all sapients, now and forever!”

The crowd erupted once more.

“Though my tenure as Acting Secretary-General ends today, I intend to work with the victor, and with all of you. We, honored Free Systems Alliance, will progress towards Pax Galactica!”

And so began a caucus to discuss who to vote for.

---

<Somewhere on the planet Xilnara, Present Day>

The ground quaked but the robot was calm. He waited for a moment, then seemed to fall into a dark abyss. Seconds later, he found himself in front of glowing lights in a pitch-black realm. The robot stepped towards the lights and saw images from all over the universe arranged like a gallery before him. Undistorted. No overlap. No confusion.

The robot remained for roughly ten minutes then seemed to shimmer out of existence, landing in a grassy clearing.

“Base,” the robot reported into a communicator. “I was in for about 10 minutes, that’s four minutes longer than the last time. The Aleph Point seems to be stabilizing around my presence.”

“Good work, BI01,” a Malchiorian replied cheerily on the other side of the communicator. “Tremendous progress! After a few more tests, we’ll try with an organic. President wants to eventually go in himself. Project Eckleburg is working out after all!”

Behind BI01 appeared a metal behemoth wearing a hooded cowl. BI01’s sensors went haywire, but before he could react, the behemoth slammed his fist on his head. The robot collapsed and his systems began to go haywire. The behemoth picked up the communicator.

“Inform your President that Coro has a message for him,” Coro whispered in a raspy, voice that nonetheless seemed synthetic. “He is meddling in forces he cannot possibly comprehend, and he risks summoning something worse within...to destroy something without.”

Coro dropped the communicator and disappeared as the Malchiorian shouted, bewildered at the bizarre and cryptic warning.  

---

<Apartment, Yari III, The Previous Night>

Former Wing Commander Dahl Taldaka placed his palm on the scanner’s glowing blue screen. A second later, the scanner chimed and glowed green. The door whooshed open, and the lights of the foyer shimmered to life. Taldaka stepped into his apartment and flicked a few switches on the wall to his right. The kitchen flourished to life upon illumination as Taldaka walked towards it.

He reached over to a cylindrical machine on the counter and pressed a few buttons on it. He then grabbed a glass and placed it in a compartment near the base of the machine. The machine whirred and poured a Yari marinno into the cup. The local rum-like cocktail was Taldaka’s idea of the perfect nightcap.

Suddenly, Taldaka spun around to the living room south of the kitchen, eyes widened and staring at a figure sitting in the sofa chair near an open window.

The man was barely visible, only apparent through the kitchen’s light and through the light of Yari’s moon(s). The latter shone across the surface of the man’s gun.

“Who’s there?” Taldaka shouted into the ether.

“Wing Commander Dahl Taldaka,” the mysterious man enunciated spitefully. “It has been a long time.”

“Who the bloody hell….” Taldaka spat. “How did you get in here?”

“Hacking your lock system was the easiest part of this whole process,” the man boasted.

Taldaka seemed to reach for a button near one of his counters, but the man made a shushing noise and raised his pistol.

“Do not bother calling for help, Commander Taldaka,” he uttered. “I also took care of your alarm systems and got rid of your weapons before you arrived.”

Taldaka sighed. He grabbed his drink and walked unfettered over to the living room. He slowly sat on the couch in front of the man and sipped.

“Years ago, in the Tanari-Takemikazuchi War, you were part of a joint regiment between Tanari, Lurian, and Vongolan forces,” the mysterious man explained. “You and your crew were stationed in the Merengi system, specifically the planet Caida. Small population, used mostly for resources.”

“Yes,” he affirmed. “It was a year after Sundowner. I was part of the 10th Regiment. We were aboard the battle cruiser Hecate in the Merengi system. That system lies near the gsouth border of the Confederation...so Command predicted that the Malchiorians or the Tiktaks were going to invade it.”

Taldaka drank again. The man said nothing, the grip on his pistol unwavering as he continued to aim it at Taldaka.

“What we didn’t realize...” he continued.  “...was that the Malc bastards would attack Caida. They saw it as the least vulnerable planet and focused all our forces elsewhere. We thought the Malcs wanted to create a beachhead on Caida to invade the rest of the system. Thankfully, we were part of the fleet that took down their first wave. The 10th Regiment remained with some others to guard the planet from any more attacks.”

“But according to your sources, a Malchiorian force already made it to the planet’s surface,” the mysterious man added. “A force that was allegedly welcomed by traitors in Ultwood, a Shifter worker’s village on one of the planet’s deserts.”

Taldaka scoffed.

“So that’s what this is about….” he muttered.

“Rather than investigating, you and the 10th Regiment decided it was best to take a different approach. Orbital bombardment,” the mysterious man accused. “And yet, none of you were content with that...because moments later, you sent a bomber spacecraft to scout the area and kill any remaining survivors.”

“How the bloody hell do you know so much?” Taldaka barked.

“I was from that village, Commander,” the mysterious man revealed. “My name is Brian Alfons Terra. I was one of the lucky ones...a group that had left the village for business elsewhere on the planet days before the attack. We returned to find our village, our families, and everything we’ve loved...reduced to craters and smolders. Then the bomber came and killed the remaining survivors...save for me. I was the only one who was able to hide in the desert for days until I knew I was safe from the craft. The pilot who killed the others...was you, Commander Taldaka.”

“I was pardoned for any and all actions taken during the war,” Taldaka recited.

“Yes indeed,” Terra agreed, nodding with a straight face. “You weren’t even punished before the pardon. In fact, during the war, they even promoted you to Wing Commander. Now you have a wonderful position here on Yari III. Yet, here I am.”

Taldaka gritted his teeth and shook his head.

“Our commander was a Lurian, did they ever tell you that?!” Taldaka protested. “Those traitorous bastards! And there were Vongolans there too, at least those were loyal!”

“Correct,” Terra affirmed again. “But as you know, the Lurian commander died at the Second Battle of Corrantia when the Hecate was destroyed a month later. As for the Vongolans, I will deal with them soon enough.”

“You couldn’t possibly kill everyone who was on board that ship,” Taldaka scoffed. He took another sip.

“No,” Terra replied. “Only those in command...who either agreed with the order or did nothing to stop it...along with the gunners...and a certain bomber.”

Before Taldaka could respond, Terra stood up and fired at him twice. The glass fell out of Taldaka’s hand, spilling its liquid onto the carpet below.

Terra counted on Taldaka’s neighbors hearing the shots, as it was his plan that they discover the body quickly. He broke open a window, then quickly shifted into a bat-like creature native to Yari, and fluttered out of the room.

-

<Holo-News, The Following Day>

“...and that’s the news from the Pantheon. Meanwhile, on Yari III, Former Wing Commander Dahl Taldaka was found killed in his apartment last night. He was shot twice, once in the chest and another time in the neck. Police are calling this a politically motivated assassination, given that Commander Taldaka was part of the controversial 10th Regiment during the Tanari-Takemikazuchi War. The killing marks the second related incident this month, as last week, Lieutenant Sargon Veriukkii, another former 10th Regiment member, was also killed in a similar fashion. Former Commodore Jones Skydda, who is standing for a parliamentary seat, condemned the killings as 'attacks on the very foundation of Yari III by Shifter radicals.'”

-

<Hideout Flat, Yari III>

Raven smiled at Paul.

“You always loved your credits, old bean,” he remarked. “Reason I ask is if Von Budberg becomes more of a liability than an asset...well. Staged assassination attempts are accident-prone, anyway, aren’t they?”

When they arrived, Raven sauntered into the apartment and nodded at everyone there. He removed his coat and placed it on a nearby chair that was most likely there before. One of the flaps faced outward, revealing nano-mesh that had been sewn into the lining. A precautionary measure.

A nearby holo-device was broadcasting the news about Dahl Taldaka. Raven turned towards it and pursed his lips.

“Hmm,” he reacted, betraying no other emotion aside from mild interest. “Never met them, but still a damned shame. Didn't that Skydda fellow that's running for Yari's parliament used to belong to that regiment?”

-

<Andromeda Hotel, Yari III>

Rain smirked. He pondered all that Aster had said. On one hand, he was impressed that she noticed the other man leaving the bathroom. On the other hand, he irked by her jabs at Malchior. Nevertheless, something about her speech captivated him.

“In that case,” he enunciated. Rain turned his body towards the waiter but continued to stare into Aster’s eyes. He ordered something bizarre off of the side of the menu that Aster had warned him about, continuing to stare and smirk at Aster in a brief display of pettiness.

When the waiter left, Rain shook his head.

“You know, you’re vexed at us for not helping, but then say you don’t need our help, you are just….” Rain fumed, then gritted his teeth as he restrained himself.

“I understand what you said about our timing,” Rain acknowledged. “Only way I can respond to that is by being here and being of service. As for Blackout...I’m afraid Eachan might be right because Nadle has the same theory. I was hoping it’d be an organization for a change. Worse is, Nadle believes Ascheron had something to do with the Voids’ extinction. Anyway, the fact that you have actually met him, although troubling, is the perfect start. What I also know is that Nadle somehow believes he’s behind a series of ‘accidents’ and attacks on Malchior too, including the assault on the FSA HQ...though I’m mystified as to why any of the groups the authorities are investigating as suspects would work with Blackout…. Oh, and some of our intel chatter in the New Order says they had a suspiciously similar ‘accident’ a few days ago within their borders. The question is why. Why would an ancient alien who supported Allman help the Shifters while attacking both sides of the war? How does that get him revenge? Perhaps there’s something hidden in the historical record of the Voids if such a thing even exists.”

Nadle glanced around the dining room as though the answer was hidden somewhere on its tables. He then peered back at Aster.

“And where does that leave your movement?” he appealed. “I suppose he could be an asset for now, but there’s no telling if he’ll show up again. Either way, we should probably carry on with the cause. I have contacts who can get you interviews, op-eds, anything you need. Again, I’m here to support you. All I’m saying is...flowers and rain always make a good team. So, truce?”

---

<Joshua Kozín’s Camp, Vongola>

The Rebel Front soldiers escorted the Vrai emissary to the center of the rebel camp, where Joshua Kozín stood with a smile. He bowed in respect.

“Madame, what a pleasure,” he greeted. “My name is Joshua Kozín. It truly is an honor that you would meet with us. We had honestly hoped you would arrive sooner. The FSA has been incredibly helpful for our cause, but with the Vrai on our side, we can win this war.”

---

<The Coldest Story Ever Told>

“Aye, aye, captain,” Wareshu grumbled. Tayne nodded and stared into his cards. Wareshu walked away from the table, annoyed and lost in thought.

“I just want to live my life without worrying about this damn war,” Tayne lamented. “I hope everyone in CIC will agree.”

[ Malchior ]

A gunshot rang out, a projectile ricocheting harmlessly off Blackout's spectral form. Then another. Salem turned in confusion as a young boy stood near the body of a downed presidential guard, holding the guard's pistol in his own hands. He fired again - Salem couldn't understand what he was seeing. The boy was short - Human - with a South Asian appearance. Then Salem noticed the cosmic energy radiating from the boy's eyes and body.

In that moment, Salem realized that just as beings like Sefer and Blackout could 'indocrinate' weak-willed individuals simply by being in proximity to them, the same was now true of him. The cosmic energy Salem had liberated from Blackout was just as manipulative and coercive, only now it was imbuing those around him with feelings of justice and bravery, not fear and contempt.

And then, Salem realized he could no longer protect Pa Vell. The boy was his priority; an innocent boy who had been drawn into a fight he had no chance of surviving. As Blackout went to retaliate, Salem shot forwards, his body shielded with cosmic energy as he grabbed the boy and ran, travelling at superhuman speeds, leaving the church and cemetery far behind. He felt guilt for abandoning Pa Vell. He felt guilt for indoctrinating, even if unintentionally, this boy. He felt little else.

He made his way to a police station and sat the boy down. The boy had, to surprise, a strong English accent.

"Are you alright?" asked Salem, checking the boy for injuries.

"You saved me! You saved me from destruction."

"What's your name, kid?"

"Arty, sir. Arty Veidt. What's yours?"

"Salem. Do you have family I can take you too?"

Arty shook his head. "My brother works in space. But I don't live with him. I haven't seen him in a while. I live at the home."

A pair of police officers called Johnson and Johnson emerged from the station. Salem's powers quickly indoctrinated them, and he was able to ask them to escort the young boy home, something the police officers would apparently not have done without being indoctrinated. He turned and left the station, and ran off into the city, hoping to get a head start in case Blackout decided to pursue him further.

---

[ Tanari Prime, Capital City ]

William Douglas Reed turned.

"I don't wanna talk." he replied, curtly. "About things we've gone through. Though it's hurting me - now it's history."

It was about now Freya Jackson MP realized Reed was bullshitting her - The Winner Takes It All by ABBA had somehow become an anthem of Reed and his growing 'NatCon' following - a social movement born on the holonet, comprised primarily of young men who idolized Reed's unconventional approach to politics and 'straight talking' attitude.

"Go on, shoot. Not literally, mind you - I don't want to be the next Tony Dalton, thank you very much."

<Malchior IV, Near Anh-Dante Cemetery>

The smoke slowly cleared, and Blackout finally emerged from the impact crater. He looked around, and could not see Salem, or sense his presence anywhere in the area. Hopefully, his attack had killed him. Such a fool, he thought. Salem was but a small-time crook, Blackout had graciously opened up so many opportunities for him, and he just threw them away.

Still in the form of Lilith, he leaped up. He landed right in front of Dr. Vell, and created a spherical force field around both of them, cutting them off from the Malchiorian guards. “Please believe me, Doctor, it’s nothing personal.” ‘she’ said, preparing another attack.

-----

<Narayanastra, Regina’s Ship>

“Don’t mention it.” Ashton said. Pes could sense he felt oddly bitter and conflicted about something, not that he needed his empath powers to do so - his tone said it all, and Amanda noticed too. Both of them looked at Ashton suspiciously.

-----

<Narayanastra, September Dawn>

Hawkes looked at Herd Stir and nodded grimly. He had seen what was about to happen to them happen to too many already. He charged up and fired a powerful energy pulse out of his robotic arm, which, coupled with some covering fire from the corvette, created enough of an opening in the enemy line to allow Hawkes and Buckner to make a mad dash for their ship.

“Let’s get out of here.” Hawkes said as he strapped himself in alongside Onyx and the Shadow Operative. “I want to put this mess behind us. We accomplished almost nothing.”

-----

<Yari III, Andromeda Hotel>

"That's one of my favourites, actually." Aster proceeded to order a spicier variant of the same thing he just had, looking Rain right in the eye as she did so, much to the confusion of the waiter. She ignored Rain’s faltering attempt to continue the argument. As far as she was concerned, she had reduced him to spluttering, and thus had won Round One of god knows how many. “Gabriel Ascheron and possible genocide? Why am I not surprised?” she muttered as Rain brought up his involvement.

“‘I am chaos. I am Caiaphus.’” she suddenly said, throwing Rain off completely. “That’s how he introduced himself to me, Klak, Nadle, and Richard. Why would he help someone like me while attacking governments on both sides? For whatever reason, he wants chaos.”

Aster paused as the waiter arrived with two bowls of oddly-coloured noodles, then continued. “Anyone can be an asset under the right circumstances, even him, but if we’re right about him, he’s also a security threat. We’ll have to find some way to deal with him. But first, I have to see this through.” She picked up the titanium chopsticks provided and began eating, then furrowed her brow, and poured a few drops of some sort of pitch-black liquid seasoning on the noodles..

“The next few weeks will be crucial. Yari is one of the largest Tanari colonies, and it has the highest Shifter population. It’s the only place we’re actually challenging for the PM spot, and not just propping up the Liberals.” she explained, at first somewhat less enthusiastically than Rain may have expected. Then she brightened. “Victory here helps millions at a stroke. And it helps the MRF put pressure on the federal government and the inner worlds, whether Jones or Eachan win. Just a shame I’m apparently the only one who believes Lundby can win.”

“Fuck it. Truce.” she said. “Let’s make history together.”

Aster had plenty of questions to ask Rain, but spotting the familiar figures of Kirsten Bluth and Mett, who had apparently arrived at the same time, speaking to the receptionist behind the glass door of the restaurant out of the corner of her eye, she decided she’d better wait. “Our friends are almost back. What shall I call you around them?”

-----

<Yari III, Hideout Flat>

“Well, that’s what our job's all about, isn’t it? Allman had the right idea, but it'll be a long time before we can do that again. Someone has to lay the groundwork, but in the meantime, we might as well make sure everyone has the freedom to earn credits without the libs getting in the way.” Paul replied. “I don't want to get into the habit of executing my clients unless I absolutely have to, Raven."

They walked into the flat's kitchen to find Igor sitting at the dining table with a black box in front of him, while Siper laid out bowls of snacks and a bottle of Alpha Centauri rum.

"He's not wrong, you know," said Siper. "Individuals can fail. Whoever holds the purse strings can change. The cause is what matters."

“The 10th, yeah.” Igor said to Raven. “I think he’s from my old man’s constituency.”

-----

<Silver Eachan’s Call with Treveya>

“If you were doing this merely in the hope of me returning the favour down the line, you would let me know exactly who I should be grateful to.” Silver Eachan shook his head and poured himself a drink. “Instead, you’re clearly afraid of me knowing who you or your employer are. Which can only indicate one thing.” He took a sip and smiled.

“Tell Sefer Yetzirah I said ‘no deal’.” He ended the call.

-----

<Malchior IV, Presidential Palace>

The mention of the Vrai Empire’s past led the ambassador to show visible annoyance for the first time during this conversation. “We fought to reform ourselves. Build a more moral empire. And we won. Many others have not.”

He changed the subject. “Come what may, we will not be overrun. That I can say for sure.”

“It is not my job to share my thoughts,” he concluded. “I will inform my government of what you have told me today. You will have their position soon. Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

-----

<Malchior IV, FSA General Parliamentary Assembly>

Turel mostly ignored Vanna M’orv’s speechifying, as he called it, in favour of intermittently chatting to the Pirate Lord agent about sports and one-night stands. He perked up only twice, once when M’orv mentioned the destruction of the Narayanastra, and then when she finally began to discuss the candidates for secretary-general.

“So, which one of the freaks are you hoping for?” he suddenly casually said to the Pirate Lord.


Far away from Turel, Lisbet, the ambassador from the Most Serene Republic of Alpha Centauri, leaned over to a figure clad from head to toe in thick, pitch black armour that completely concealed their appearance, sitting in a neighbouring pod labelled ‘PHANTOM LORD DELEGATION’. Both races were major exporters of weapons and energy technology, and their voices carried some weight in the FSA.

“I’ve thought over your suggestion. My government sees the merits and so do I.” she whispered. “But it depends on what happens today.” The Phantom Lord simply nodded, then scribbled a note on a piece of paper and passed it down to the Corrantian ambassador, who looked up and shook his head yes.

-----

<Vongola, Kozin’s Camp>

The Vrai emissary returned the bow. “I am honoured to meet you too. My name is Inquisidora Kora. I’m afraid I do not bring as clear-cut a message as that, though.”

“It is the policy of the Vrai Empire, as it has always been, that the Dachori can never be allowed to regain their power. That includes putting an end to the rule of the Di Armechio clan here.” she continued. “To this end, our previous government committed its support… to Thomas Phaedrus Kane.”

She raised a hand to stop Kozin interrupting. “However, there is now a new government in place. We would rather not see Kane in charge if we can avoid it. However, we understand that in the wake of Sards, the balance of power may be changing, and the priority must be to overthrow Figlio. I’m sure you understand.”

“Despite that, we are willing to consider switching our support to you. But we have three conditions. The first is that you pledge to restore democratic government across Vongola. The second is that you publicly pledge the Rebel Front, and the future sovereign Vongola, to the Order and Progress Coalition we are building, not the FSA. This does not preclude cooperation with the FSA towards our common goals. The last, and most important, is that you explain to me how you hope to outmaneuver Kane and Figlio.”

-----

<Tanari Prime, Capital City>

“Cut the crap, Reed.” Freya rolled her eyes. “We both know exactly who stood to gain from Dalton’s assassination. Doesn’t really matter whether you or Branley’s lunatics did it. For all intents and purposes, you’re on the same side.”

She sat back down and began to sip her cider again. “Though I wouldn’t be celebrating his death too much if I were you. He was a nice man, but he was window dressing for the greedy buffoons and failsons who’ve always actually run this empire. The one you’re working for now decided he needed to change his tone, so Dalton became useless to him. Now you’re the window dressing. Maybe you’ll get further than he did, maybe not. Lucky you, you get to find out. Or not, since despite everything you’ve done, Eachan is still, hmmm, was it nine or ten points behind?”

Now that she hopefully had Reed’s attention, she began to change the subject. “I’m sure you have a whole list of reasons why you’re different, or a speech about how you already realise what I’ve told you and are prepared, or something along those lines. I don’t give a fuck about any of that.” She took a longer sip of her cider. “Whatever sick little experiment the government is running in Wilson City has gone on long enough. I want it shut down immediately. Don’t worry, I know you don’t do anything for free, especially not for a Shifter, so once Wilson hospital is no longer trying to figure out how to feed giant metal bricks, and whatever you’re using to do it has been handed over to me, I can arrange for you to get the one thing you love most; controversy. For a few days, the only thing anyone on the holo-net will be able to talk about is David Robert Jones and the one woman your fans love to hate more than anyone else in the Confederation being fucking weird. But only for a few days. You know how… fleeting everything on the holo-net is, and, well, I’m not actually insane.”

-----

<Yari III, Liberal HQ, a bit before Aster and Rain’s conversation>

Kirsten spent the rest of the drive in silence, looking at her phone and smiling at something or other. Upon arriving, she was ushered into a spacious office, and came face to face with one Andy Hasler, a former ship captain who had spent the war smuggling supplies from Malchior and the Takemikazuchi Empire to the Tanari resistance. Reports that supplies entrusted to him regularly went missing, or that he had paid for upgrades to his ship, which he infamously insisted was the fastest in the Trilateral, with money from bounties earned by turning in other resistance members to the Allmanites, were widely circulated but never proven, and for reasons unclear to the Tanari Prime branch of the party, Hasler had somehow become leader of the Yari Liberals. Kirsten was about to get a hint as to how.

“Mr. Hasler?” she said. Her smile was gone; now she would be the picture of professionalism.

Hasler turned off the holo-vid of William Douglas Reed he’d been watching and slowly spun around in his chair. “Yes, darling?” he said, though he seemed rather obviously more interested in her body than what she was about to say.

She took a laminated sheet of paper out of her bag and placed it down on his desk. “I’m here to inform you that under Article 15, the federal executive...”

“I know what Article 15 means.” Hasler hissed. “You Homeworlders are all the same. This shit just before our election? You’re out of your tiny minds.”

“I’m only the messenger.” Kirsten said drily. “But off the record, we both know nobody on Yari votes based on who the Liberal leader is.”

“Oh, please…”


A few minutes of pointless back-and-forth later, Kirsten stepped out of the office and onto the street to find René already there, smoking a cigarette. “Did you have fun kicking out our party leader?” he said.

“Hey, I’m just doing my job.” Kirsten smiled. “He’s the one having fun at your party’s expense. And you can still vote him back in, even though you know you’d be insane to...”

René took a drag of his cigarette. “Everyone here knows. All our candidates are handpicked by him, he has connections you homeworlders don’t even want to know about.”

“So why don’t you care?”

“Because people like you care. He’s not a good guy but he did things for us under Allman. What have you ever done?”

Kirsten’s smile vanished again, but this time, she wasn’t just being professional - her mood darkened visibly. She turned without a word and got into the bus that had just arrived, making for the Andromeda Hotel.

-----

[ Tanari Prime ]

"Not insane? That's exactly what you are." responded Reed, incredulous. "I mean, are you listening to yourself? You're sounding a little whacky, Jackson. A little crazy. I assassinated Tony Dalton? Is this what Liberalism does to people - contorts your minds to make you this desperate, to invent these insane conspiracy theories? And you have the gall to sit there downing drink after drink whilst our President works to get to the bottom of this disaster in Wilson City - you have the gall to turn around and blame this on us?"

Reed reached forwards, grabbed Freya's cider, turned, and threw it. The glass coursed through the air, landing in a nearby river with a splash.

"It's obvious the drink's interfering with whatever meds you're on. Next time you want to have one of your schizo rants, find someone else."

Before Reed had even finished the conversation, he had posted on Xwitter, a popular social media site on the Tanari holo-net. His cybernetic irises had captured video of the conversation, and a cloud-based VI fine-tuned to his tastes had automatically constructed a fifteen-second video, comparing the slovenly, day-drinking Freya Jackson MP and her insane babbling, to the hardworking soldiers of the Tanari special forces who were currently conducting electronic warfare flights over Wilson City to try and isolate the source of the anti-shifter field. The caption read: Whilst our brave soldiers fight to protect the safety and dignity of ALL Tanari citizens, failing leftist MP Freya Jackson has nothing better to do than get drunk in public. The radical left loves inventing problems but hates the thought that people might actually solve them. Already, the VI had purchased footage of Reed grabbing the cider from a local CCTV camera and was busy creating a meme labeling Reed as 'THE WINNER' and the cider as 'IT ALL'.

---

[ Nightclub 'Le Club', Malchior Orbit ]

Le Club was a famous and popular nightclub, located in orbit of Malchior - purportedly because the music played was so loud that there were nowhere on the planet's surface it could exist without causing both noise complaints and structural damage to surrounding buildings. It appeared like a great glass roulette wheel in space, served by concentric rings where the shuttles and ships of the rich and famous could dock; the nightclub was so popular that it had its own parking orbit, where would-be guests could wait for their chance to embark.

Salem strode in, making his way to the central area of Le Club; an elevated level which overlooked all others, where only the most important guests were permitted to visit. Two bouncers tried to stop him, but with a wave of his hand, he was able to use his newfound powers and convince him to let them through.

Malak Al-Maut sat, reclined on a couch, being fed grapes by two beautiful men of Arabic descent. Members of his social circle sat around him; the notorious crime lord Saul Gerrerra, the 'Xazari entrepreneur' Timothy Morgan Veidt, the Tanari celebrity Oriel Matthieu Saint, the Malchiorian Geneticist Mohammed 'Mo' Derna, and finally an unknown, blonde-haired man in a sleeveless red jumpsuit, his eyes hidden behind black sunglasses, who sat with a confident smirk on his face. Salem had no idea who these men were - but he knew who Malak was. Every Espiritu Santo member did.

"I need an audience with Klak."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're in the wrong place." responded Malak. "This isn't really his type of establishment. Now - if you'd be so kind as to excuse me, I was discussing some very important business with my companions here."

Salem paused. "Looked like you were eating grapes."

"Looked like you were talking shit." responded TMV, as two of his henchmen, Arturo and Veldt, pulled their handguns on Salem. Salem held his hands up here in a defensive gesture.

"God damn it, I'm not here to fight. I know who you are, Malak. I know what you are. I know Klak gave you this nightclub so he could keep you close to home - and make best use of the information you're able to provide him with. I need you to provide him with information - now. It's about Gaius Malcovus. The FSA is about to make a terrible mistake."

Malak leaned forwards, grinning, steepling his hands.

"Ah. Problem is, Salem, you shouldn't have phrased it like that. The thing with terrible mistakes is... I really like seeing people make them."

A group of men in loose-fitting cream suits crested the stairway behind Salem, coming to stand in a semicircle behind him. Their leader was an Asian man wearing sunglasses, standing half a head shorter than his companions. A wry grin formed on Malak's lips.

"Like the mistake you made by coming here. Hate to say it - but they got here well before you."

Salem turned, clenching his fists. The Espiritu Santo assassins surrounding him settled into martial arts stances; Salem responded in kind.

"Juan Castillo Jr. Or should I say - Salem." said Oh Gabriel, leader of the men sent to kill him.

"Oh Gabriel." responded Salem. "This doesn't have to end with violence."

"It doesn't." responded Oh Gabriel. "But it will."

Malak grinned, leaning forwards as the melee erupted in front of him, gesturing for the DJ to turn the music up louder. Two Espiritu Santo men stepped forwards, unleashing flurries of rapid punches towards Salem; Salem had still not recovered from his brawl with Blackout, and had to resort to dodging and ducking between the attacks, timing his own counterattacks; as they over-extended to try and hit him, he slid through their defenses, defeating each man with a single punch. There was no pause - the other assassins pressed the attack, forcing Salem back down the stairs and into a crowd of dancers at the base of it. One Espiritu Santo man pulled out a submachinegun and fired into the crowd, but Salem extended a wall of energy to protect them - holding the bullets in place - he then reversed the attack, sending the bullets back at the attacker, and they shredded him like shotgun pellets. The crowd screamed and began to flee, and as they ran away from Salem, two men stepped closer with knives and tried to stab him; Salem let them, then used the cosmic energy in his body to superheat the knives, forcing the assassins to let go of them. He pulled the knives out, the cosmic energy instantly healing his wounds; he threw the knives with superhuman strength at the attackers, each knife piercing a man through the chest and sending them flying off the platform. Now only Oh Gabriel remained; he and Salem began circling eachother.

"What's wrong, Salem? Did losing Juaréz break you? Did you truly have such little faith?"

Collecting himself, Salem settled back down into a martial arts stance.

"I have nothing but faith. Try me."

<Vesa Qatoria>

Before returning to its usual berth elsewhere in the system, the Darkmount made an unusual detour, stopping at Vesa Qatoria itself. It landed in a seemingly random wilderness and dropped off a number of passengers (OOS: including Vekhta and Shepard if JS so wishes) as well as two jet-black spheres made of a superdense alloy capable of withstanding - or containing - short-range attack, both of which contained a chair with manacles built into the armrests and an IV drip. Upon landing, Lilith and Di-Jonn Massa were strapped into the spheres, which were then sealed and loaded into a waiting lorry which took them and the Espiritu Santo agents to a nearby village.

Blackout’s doctrine was that, in so far as resources permitted, the Espiritu Santo should be a decentralised organisation, with multiple concealed bases of operations serving different purposes. This particular base took that to the next level - while the bulk of the compound was located underground, it also included an above-ground camp disguised as an ordinary village, which was inhabited, with the exception of a few local idiots who had wandered into the area and simply began doing odd jobs for the villagers to get by without ever realising where they were, almost entirely by armed Espiritu Santo agents ready to defend the compound if necessary. This disguise deterred suspicion from outsiders, but also had the unexpected benefit of allowing the Espiritu Santo to fraudulently seek humanitarian aid on behalf of the ‘impoverished village’, which accounted for the base’s most unusual feature.

In the centre of the ‘village’, where the lorry was headed, was located a giant bust of one Daniel Danssen, which easily dwarfed the vehicle. While Danssen was still alive, he often donated money to several impoverished communities throughout the galaxy, and he specified in his will that, upon his death, his assets should be liquidated and transferred to those communities - on the condition that they used part of the money to construct giant busts of Danssen. The Espiritu Santo jumped at this unusual opportunity to obtain additional funds, and went on to construct one in the centre of their newest base, adding several modifications of their own to make the statue that would otherwise be simply offensive to good taste useful to them; as soon as the lorry got close enough to the bust, its mouth opened, revealing a ramp the lorry could use to drive down into the vast, underground bunker. Danssen would no doubt have been amused to learn that, for all intents and purposes, Lilith Heyerdahl would now be imprisoned inside him, but the Espiritu Santo had no idea about his attraction to Lilith, and the joke was lost on them - not that there was any guarantee they'd find it particularly funny as opposed to uncomfortable.

The lorry stopped, allowing the Espiritu Santo agents on board to get off, and two forklifts queued up to remove the spheres containing Lilith and Di-Jonn Massa from the lorry as a ginger Malchiorian woman in a lab coat supervised them.

“Careful, careful… Excellent!” Sinead Pharris-Vaccari called out to the forklift drivers. “Take the first one to number 17 and the other one to 20. I’ll take care of them in a minute.”

-----

<Teruga Prime, Presidential Building>

An orange-skinned, middle-aged Terugan woman leaned on the railing of a balcony of the presidential building, soberly overlooking the land that had now become her responsibility. She could see it all from the sixtieth floor - vehicles both grounded and hovering flittered across the maze-like streets of the futuristic city below her, hurriedly attending to their business, with the odd transport breaking away from the traffic to float above the city and venture off to parts unknown. Looking up, lights of all colors twinkled among the vast cosmic clouds and gases that decorated the burnt orange sky, serving as a constant reminder that the Terugans were not alone in the universe. A colossal eye-shaped nebula occupied the heavens, its gaze facing the planet like the eye of a divine being. Although the Terugans knew it - or her - as Cillia, most of the galactic community stuck to calling it the Helix Nebula.

According to Monoculism, the national religion of Teruga Prime, Cillia was a lonely, ancient god who had travelled the universe in search of a companion. When her search turned up empty, she gathered up rocks and dust and shaped Teruga Prime, creating the planet's oceans with a single tear and prompting the emergence of life. Wanting to continue her search, but not wanting to abandon her creations, Cillia removed one of her eyes and left it to watch over the world as well as provide it with the cosmic energies that it needed to survive while she continued her celestial travels. This explanation - while not scientific in the slightest - remained one of the most widely accepted explanations as to how the planet of Teruga Prime continued to exist. As a rogue planet separate from any star, Teruga Prime should have frozen up and died aeons ago - yet the planet continued to be sustained by light, warmth, and cosmic energy that seemed to emanate from the Helix Nebula itself. All attempts to study the source of this energy had proven fruitless, making it one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.

However, that didn't mean the planet was perfectly habitable. The first Terugans had evolved underground in a damp network of caves, adapted to breathing trapped pockets of air that circulated through the caves and were replenished through an unknown geological process. When the Terugans eventually migrated onto the planet's surface, they found that the air there was thin due to the planet's weak atmosphere, making it an unsuitable environment for living. However, the Terugans pushed onwards, wanting to expand the limits of their existence, and constructed colossal artificial domes on the surface that would allow them to breathe properly as well as protect them from the excesses of cosmic radiation that battered the planet. Shielded and sustained, the Terugans evolved into a proud race across the millennia, developing a unique culture and colonizing the planet's moons of Zin, Kel and Vix, all while never leaving the gaze of Cillia.

Eventually, Teruga Prime was visited by the Tanari Confederation (or whatever it was called back then), who not only saw great scientific potential in learning how to harvest the cosmic energy that sustained Teruga Prime, but also in the planet's natural resources and able workforce. A mutually beneficial arrangement was made where the Tanari would provide the Terugans with technology that was far beyond the primitive spacecraft they had invented while the Terugans provided workers and natural resources to help sustain the Confederation's off-world colonies. Although few Terugans made it back to Tanari Prime, they quickly spread across the galaxy due to this exchange, becoming a frequent sight in many multicultural societies. However, the presence of the Tanari on Teruga Prime was controversial among the Terugans, with many considering the Tanari exploitative and tyrannical as they seemed to gain more control over Terugan affairs. During the term of the last president, a militaristic hardass called Vok Kronac, the Tanari seemed to gain more and more control over the planet, leaving the Terugans to fear for their sovereignty. Most Terugans abhored the idea of being drawn into the Confederation, especially not while a war with the Takemikazuchi Empire seemed to be brewing on the horizon. The solution was clear: Vok had to be stopped. But only one Terugan had the gall to try to overthrow the president.

That Terugan's name was Yon.

Yon was a small-time thief who had left Teruga Prime in his early adulthood, dreaming of finding fortune among the stars. Although nobody actually believed that he could - with the exception of the other small-time crooks he had taken with him - Yon successfully executed a series of well-publicized thefts and hijackings that made him notorious across the decades, and eventually even earned him a seat at the table of the Pirate Lords of Liquid-Metallicon. Believing that the actions of Yon and his crew were tarnishing Teruga Prime's reputation, Vok pursued him relentlessly across the cosmos, but Yon always remained one step ahead. Despite this, Vok never thought that Yon would return home. Why would he when he got what he wanted?

As it turned out, Yon wanted one more thing: Vok's head on a platter. Apparently, the two of them had beef that extended back further than Vok's pursuit of him, all the way back to Yon's childhood, but the details surrounding this had never really been made clear to the public. All that is known is that, one day, in the aftermath of the Tanari-Takemikazuchi War that had caused most of the Tanari to withdraw from Teruga Prime, Yon boarded Dong Li station, home to some of the most dangerous vagrants in the universe, and made them an offer they couldn't refuse. Yon's 'Dong Squad' emerged and attacked Teruga Prime with power and ferocity the likes of which had never been seen on the planet before or since, effortlessly obliterating a Tanari blockade and fighting their way to the Spire of Conquest, the former presidential building which stood at the heart of the underground city of Ipomal and pierced through the roof of the ancient cave to touch the heavens. An hour after the city was evacuated by the Terugan authorities, the foundations of the Spire exploded, destroying Ipomal completely, and the Dong Squad left the planet aboard the same singular ship they had arrived in. Vok's body was one of hundreds, Terugan, Stäbil, and Shifter alike, that were excavated from the wreckage. Vok, however, had suffered a gunshot wound straight through the eye.

In the chaotic weeks that followed, the lingering Tanari forces quietly withdrew from the planet, leaving the Terugans to clean up the mess. A tense diplomatic election was called for the first time in centuries, putting an end to the Kronac dynasty and ushering in a new era. Although loyalists to Vok's regime in the form of the Continued Collaboration Party did get some support from the public, the winner was Ear Lornus of the Terugan Sovereignty Party, who won the election on assurances that she would bolster Terugan industry to make them a powerful independent force in their part of the galaxy which would not need to rely on other powers such as the Tanari Confederation for support. Anti-Tanari sentiment was at an all-time high on Teruga Prime, not just because of their local actions, but also because of the massacre on Atuar Sadiares, a space station close to Teruga Prime that had been owned by a Terugan. However, as the prospect of war between the New Order and the Free System Alliance seemed to become an inevitability, Ear was forced to abandon her dream of sovereignty for her world to align Teruga Prime with the Free Systems Alliance - a decision that was controversial at best considering the Tanari Confederation's membership.

Now, in the present, Ear sighed with frustration as she gazed at the Terugan skies from the balcony of the new presidential building. As a girl, she had often gazed at the stars with awe, wondering what mysteries and adventures lay beyond, but in her adulthood - and especially during her time in the Terugan government - she had become ever so slightly more cynical about the intentions of their celestial neighbours. Although Teruga Prime was under the protection of the Free Systems Alliance, at least for now, there were some on the planet who were convinced certain territories in the FSA posed just as much of a threat to Teruga - and she admitted she had her own suspicions. Terugans, as precious as they were in their own way, did not exactly fit in Gabriel Ascheron's model of a perfect universe - and she wasn't sure how different his successor really was. She had yet to meet Evangelise Ascheron, but it wasn't exactly something she had on her bucket list. Ear was just glad she didn't have to attend the FSA secretary general vote herself.

Flicking a small ball of fluff off the blue padded shoulders of her uniform, Ear turned around and proceeded back into the palace, passing between secretaries, interns, and guards all rushing about to attend to their jobs. Upon reaching her office, she locked the double doors behind her and stepped over to a holoprojector, typing in a passcode. A few moments later, a life-size blue hologram of another Terugan appeared. He was a thin-looking man, approximately analogous to a human in his late thirties or early forties, with a long, striped, almost comically large tie worn loosely around his neck and over his suit.

"Oh, uh, hello Ear," the Terugan said awkwardly, struggling to adjust his tie. "How do you get these damn things to work?"

"Take a hold of the outermost part, then grab the part closest to your chest with your other hand and pull it up." Ear sighed, irritated that she had to teach the Terugan ambassador how to use an item of clothing that was fairly normal in the galactic community. Ties were not traditional Terugan wear, but that was no excuse. In fact, hadn't she seen him leave the building wearing it properly this morning? "Hey, how did you even-"

"Like this?" the Terugan responded, pulling it up with much more force than necessary, causing it to become restricted around his neck. "Ack!"

Ear sighed and rubbed the ever-increasing lines in her brow in frustration. "Fod?"

Fod struggled and fiddled some more until he eventually managed to loosen it enough to breathe again. "Yes?"

"What's going on? Has the vote happened yet?"

"No, not yet. I think it's just about to start, actually," Fod replied, looking off somewhere in the distance. "We're just being given the opportunity to discuss who we want to vote for. It was... Gabriel Malcovus, wasn't it?"

"Gaius Malcovus," Ear asserted.

"Oh, right," Fod chuckled. "Sorry, I just have Ascherons on the brain right now with everything that's going on here at the assembly. Are you sure about him? I mean, he seems like a nice guy and all, but the Ascherons mean serious business. I could definitely see Evangelise kicking Sefer's ass. Malcovus? I'm not so sure."

"It's a good thing you're not the one in charge then," Ear snarled. "Gabriel Ascheron was a lunatic, and I have no reason to believe his daughter will be any different. The Cabinet was unanimous, our vote is going to Gaius Malcovus."

"Fine, fine... you know. I was president once. Perhaps you should show a little more respect, ma'am," Fod replied with a smug grin.

"Acting president. Vok never made preparations for his death, so you were basically chosen from a lottery. And considering one of your first actions in office was to try to send a message to Yon to negotiate our surrender after the attack on Ipomal, no, I don't think I will. In fact, you're lucky you're not doing time for treason. The only reason I've kept you in my cabinet is because these archaic laws of ours have forced me to."

Fod grimaced, apparently offended. "Yon didn't agree, did he?" he said, as if that made it any better. "In fact, he didn't even respond. What happened to him, anyway?"

"Don't you ever read the memos? He's gone. He just straight up left the galaxy altogether, apparently in search of some new sort of treasure. Even our contact in the Pirate Lords has no idea what happened beyond that. Anyway, we're getting off topic. There's still time for you to earn my trust, Fod. If you try anything - and I mean anything - that I wouldn't approve of, the aides there with you have been given orders to arrest you."

"Thanks," Fod rolled his eye. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Report back as soon as the vote is over... and don't screw this up," Ear replied, pushing a button to end the transmission.

[ Malchiorian Navy Early Warning Ship Gladius, Neutral Space ]

The crew of the Gladius was on edge. Rumors were circulating of a major military victory in the Asukara system - and in the history of the conflict with the New Order, any gains made by the Free States had immediately been met with a decisive military response. The role of early warning ships like the Gladius was to monitor communications, news channels, fleet movements - anything that could give Fleet Command a heads up.

Complicating matters were reports that Lilith Heyerdahl, consort of Emperor Sefer, had been on the station. Even in the midst of the current conflict, Malchiorian intelligence generally believed that Lilith was 'off-limits' - capturing or even assassinating her would be of little tactical value, and would also risk angering Sefer to the extent that a diplomatic resolution to the current conflict would become impossible. It was an open secret that the New Order forces currently committed to the current conflict were simply the tip of the spear - the full military might of the Free States' enemy lay in wait, waiting for the moment to strike.

July 23, AR 7 would be that moment.

Reports came in first as a trickle, then as a flood. Communications officers across the bridge began barking out reports, as emergency transmissions and news reports played out of the loudspeaker. Pure pandemonium ensued.

"Captain, reports of unknown alien aggressors in Amun space - they've captured-"

"Nuclear detonations across the Lurian surface! Aerisgard's been hit! Aerisgard's been-"

"-Vesa Qatorian home fleet is under fire! The Tucumcari's going-"

"-We've lost all communication with the Super Vatican Empire - long range scans-"

"-Defense grid's been taken down from the inside - we're wide open-!"

An explosion rocked the ship. Then another. The flood of communications was silenced in an instant as the ship rocked violently forwards, the bridge filling with smoke as many of the crew were literally thrown from their seats. The Captain forced himself back upright, barking orders.

"Status report! What the hell just happened?"

The chief mechanical officer responded, hurriedly tapping his way through a holographic interface listing hundreds of structural and system warnings.

"My god. Somebody planted a bomb aboard the ship."

Sleeper agents, thought the Captain. Of course. How could we have possibly been so naive? How could we not have expe-

"Long range communications are jammed. No, wait - we're receiving a single long-range communication signal." interrupted the communications officer. "New Order frequencies."

"Put it on the main viewscreen."

The main viewscreen flickered into life, and the menacing appearance of Arc PLUTUS appeared. Having now achieved true sentience through the gifts of the Arokazek gene-smiths on Kharabad, the former synth now sported a new appearance; the same trademark silver, sculpted features, but with a plume of long, silver hair that hung directly upwards, as if willfully disobeying gravity. Rather than the uniform of a New Order officer, he wore a purple cloak that floated around him, held in place by a single hand.

"It's - it's you!" exclaimed the Captain.

"How are you, gentlemen?" responded PLUTUS, coyly. "I'm afraid all of your forward operating bases are now under New Order control. Your ship and its crew will... soon be joining your fallen comrades."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"What I'm saying," continued PLUTUS, "is that you should treasure whatever remaining time you have left."

PLUTUS laughed, savoring his newfound emotions, as he cut the transmission. The bridge crew sat in silence as the ship slowly collapsed around them, before the communications officer spoke up.

"Captain, what are your orders?"

He didn't respond.

"Captain?"

"Launch... launch all fighters. Every single one. We need to warn Malchior. We need to warn Klak."

Within the hangar bay of the Gladius, pilots ran to their fighters, skipping any and all pre-flight checks. The deck crew remained behind to ensure the fighters were fully fueled for the flight to Malchior, foregoing any chance of making it to their escape pods to ensure the pilots, and their message, got through. The captain's voice played out over the hangar's loudspeaker as the fighters were moved to their launch catapults.

"You all know what you need to do. Let justice be done... though the heavens fall."

Seconds later, the fighters were accelerated out of the launch ramps of the Gladius at a measurable fraction of the speed of light, as their mothership crumbled and collapsed behind them, before finally exploding as its reactor went critical. The fighters banked hard, orienting for the jump to Malchior, and shot off at FTL speed to warn of the sleeper agent threat and the coming bloodshed.

---

[ Outer Amun space ]

"My master. Our forces... have made considerable inroads into the solar heretics' domain."

"As our Gods demand, so shall it be done."

Fleetmaster Xnopyt dismissed the communication from his general, turning his attention back to the hardlight battle-map suspended in the air before him. Such arcane technology still baffled him. Xnopyt had been born thirty solar cycles ago, to a primitive world that had not yet mastered agriculture, let along begun to develop an understanding of its place in the universe. Their gods had been kind to them, and had uplifted them, and had given them that place. The primitive Vnx species had been imbued with language, technology, science - each man was now a nation, composed of a hundred different cybernetic implants built around a biological frame, which told him what to think, what to feel, what to do; truly, their nameless Gods were charitable Gods.

Indeed, their Gods had no name which they gave to themselves; to the Yuzari they had been the 'Star Vampires' and to the Amun they were simply 'The Eclipse'. Each God was a mass of mechanical tendrils about as long as a Malchiorian dreadnought, generally anchored within the fractured hull of an ancient vessel which they claimed like a hermit crap choosing a shell. The Gods reached out, added new technology and material to themselves, grew larger and stronger until they reached a critical mass of intelligence and split into two distinct beings, beginning the cycle anew. They fed off stars - consuming them in a matter of years, dimming the night sky. It was this which had made their existence intolerable to the Amun collective in centuries past, and the Eclipse had therefore been all but wiped out by the solar heretics.

There were theories, which Xnopyt's shackled consciousness was not able to interpret, that purported the Eclipse was an extragalactic nanite plague that was engaged in a cycle of endless assimilation and reproduction. It possessed intelligence, but was not known to have personality - no true self-awareness. Arguably, it assimilated technology in the same way a fire consumes oxygen. What had prompted it to make the jump from synthetic to organic life, and assimilate the Vnx, was completely unknown. What was more confusing was how it was able to agree to an alliance of convenience with the New Order to target its ancient enemies, the Amun Collective - or how it even possessed the cognitive capacity to recognize the Amun as enemies.

It was good that Xnopyt did not have to concern himself with such thoughts. His purpose as a being was laid out before him; he had no need to wander from the path.

A holographic transmission appeared in Xnopyt's chamber - buried deep within the hull of M4, the Eclipse God that had spearheaded the invasion of the Amun outer colonies, deploying millions of tank-bred Vnx to lay waste to them and seize their technology and science. The holographic projection was that of Advent Joshua, one of the leaders of the New Order collective that the Eclipse had aligned themselves with; Advent was a cyborg being with a humanoid appearance, with pitch-black skin broken up with circuit-board like patterns of gold, and golden irises glowing against black sclera. Xnopyt understood that despite being blended - an organic consciousness inside a synthetic shell - Advent retained his free will. To think for oneself - what a terrible burden. Sefer Yeztirah was a cruel god to allow her subjects to exist in such a chaotic state.

"What is the status of the invasion?"

"We have made significant progress. The sky will darken."

"See that it does."

The transmission disappeared nearly as soon as it had arrived, and Xnopyt was left in silence. He turned back to the hardlight battlemap, a childhood memory of sitting around a fire surfacing in his mind - and quickly being deleted.

---

[ Luria Orbit, AKD ]

The Lurians had not expected, even in their worst nightmares, to ever lose Luria itself.

Ascheron stood in the airlock of the warship Hugo Gernsbacher, watching the ancient homeworld of the Lurian people drift further and further away. Even now, bright white flashes lit up the surface every few seconds as the invading Akkar flotilla dropped nuke after nuke onto the planet's surface, scouring it. The New Order invaders had long since given up pursuit of the refugee fleet - a few hundred civillian ships escorted by what was left of the Luria home guard - instead focusing their efforts on reducing their newly-claimed territory into a smoldering atomic ruin. Ascheron clenched his first, the ceramic joints of his EVA suit's glove cracking in the palm of his hand. He turned and made his way back in.

The mood within the ship was despondent. The Hugo Gernsbacher had been in drydock at the time of the attack, and had only been mobilized at the last moment to flee the doomed planet, carrying as many civilians as possible. The ship wasn't made to carry so many people; they milled around in the corridor, finding whatever quiet corner they could, and already work was underway to transform the ship's hangar into a makeshift barracks. Lurian citizens normally worshipped the ground Ascheron stood on, now, they paid him (or given that his appearance was that of Evangelise Ascheron, her) no notice. Perhaps the personality cult of the Ascheron bloodline had finally been dealt a death blow. Perhaps, Ascheron thought, that was for the best.

The bridge of the Hugo Gernsbacher had not yet been constructed, owing to budgetary constraints, and so command of the ship was being co-ordinated from a makeshift CIC set up in the ship's mess hall; navigation of the ship was being controlled by a laptop plugged in down in the ship's engineering level, with navigation commands relayed verbally from the CIC to the engine room. Admiral Burn Gorman saluted as Ascheron entered; so did the remaining members of his honor guard. Evidently, the rest of the crew had forgotten how to do so.

"What are your orders, my Emperor?"

Ascheron paused.

"Open a communications channel. All frequencies. Forward it to our long-range comm stations in Alradia and Odinia."

---

[ Nephthys Colony, Amun Outer Rim ]

A group of jackal-headed soldiers sunk into cover behind the ruins of a destroyed building as a cybernetic tripod crossed the street in front of them. Piloted by a Vnx who had been fused into the mechanical construct, it loosed a molten-hot beam of ferromagnetic fluid at a nearby building, cutting it in half. An Amun tank with a squashed pyramid shape rounded the corner, its hull unfurling to reveal a solar cannon which it fired at the tripod, destroying it. The soldiers emerged from cover as a voice began playing on their radios.

"The New Order has launched a full-scale assault on the Free States Alliance. Multiple nations along the front-lines have suffered massive casualties as a result of this despicable, unprovoked surprise attack."

---

[ Impel Down Prison, Tanari Prime ]

Khum Williams made his way to the gates of his prison cell, peering out beyond - both the prisoners and guards were seemingly frozen, huddled around a radio, listening to both updates about the attacks and the speech being made by Evangelise Ascheron.

"Many of us have lost loved ones. Many of us will lose loved ones. The violence we are seeing now is just the beginning of Sefer's vision for the galaxy. It is a vision... we cannot allow to come to fruition."

---

[ Ioturnot, Front Lines ]

A group of Lurian soldiers huddled in a trench, listening to the speech with horrified expressions, even as artillery shells flew overhead.

"Our purpose and our duty as sapient beings has never been clearer. We are facing an enemy with whom no peace can be brokered, no deal can be made, no surrender can be offered. Against such evil, we must fight. We must fight with every fibre of our being. We will fight them in space, we will fight them on land, we will fight them in the asteroid belts and in the liminal fringes of dark space."

---

[ Malchiorian Space ]

The Gladius's fighter compliment emerged from FTL, plotting a course towards the nearest naval base. Their radios picked up the speech, broadcast on all frequencies.

"We cannot rest until every bomb has been dropped, every bullet has been fired, every measure exhausted in pursuit of the defeat of this enemy. The lives and freedoms of countless generations yet to be born depend on us rising to what destiny demands of us - to stand, unified, in this moment and say with one voice: No further."

---

[ Bendu ]

"We will never give in. We will never concede. We will never surrender! Sieg Luria!"

The transmission cut out, and Sefer sat in silence. There was no smirk, no reaction - no nothing. She took no joy in this war. There existed a cold arithmetic that told her that the untold billions that were about to die would be sacrifices - sacrificed to pave the way for ten-thousand years of peace in the new order that would follow their demise. She took no comfort in this knowledge. She doubted those untold billions would, either.

"The fleet is ready on your command, Emperor." announced PsyCommander Adria. Adria had brought her news of the downfall of Narayanstra - she had been on Kharabad when the first PsyTroopers began reincarnating, and the scale of Klak's deception was revealed. Klak had used unknowable power to appear as Lilith and deceive the PsyTroopers; already, this flaw in the PsyTrooper psyche had been addressed, but the fact remained that Klak had acquired dark capabilities that were beyond Sefer's perception.

This, understandably, was a state of affairs that could not be allowed to continue.

A few hours later, Sefer and her fleet departed Bendu.

<Vesa Qatoria, ‘Danssen’ Underground Base>

Sinead Pharris-Vaccari stood in front of the black pod, holding some sort of remote control. The pod was open, and within sat Di-Jonn Massa, tightly restrained and with an IV drip hooked into his arm. Blackout wanted to take care of Lilith Heyerdahl personally once he returned, but he wasn’t as interested in Massa, who nevertheless still potentially had valuable information, especially in the context of the New Order offensive. And so it fell to Sinead.

“Good morning, Admiral.” she said cheerfully. “Are you sitting comfortably?”

-----

<David Robert Jones’ Diary>

July 23.

Escalation was inevitable from the day Sefer proclaimed the New Order, but I had hoped we could avoid it for a while longer, that we could all have just a little more time to prepare our forces. The destruction of the Narayanastra has driven her mad. Lilith Heyerdahl seemed like a nice woman, and by all accounts they genuinely loved each other. I suppose we must all have at least one genuine emotion, but she has no one but herself to blame. No one forced her to build a planet killer.

It doesn’t feel right to think about the election at a time like this. Though it could decide how we respond and if we even survive as a species, part of me tells me that mere politics feels inconsequential at a time like this. Peres and I were supposed to hold another rally today, but we cancelled it as soon as we heard about the offensive. Didn’t seem right. All eyes were on Evangelise Ascheron today anyway. I didn’t think she had it in her.

Eachan was nowhere to be seen either. He doesn’t need to do anything himself, people usually naturally rally to incumbents at times like this, even if their policies have objectively made things worse. Right now, it doesn’t feel like I’m running against Eachan. It feels like I’m running against William Douglas Reed’s jingoism and taunts, Evangelise Ascheron’s speech, and the images of FSA fleets under fire from Yetzirah’s goons. He’s a better shape-shifter than most Shifters. I’m sure that I can still win, but it will probably be a much closer race now. I begin to realise now that this is what happened last time. Peres ran not against a man with a name and a record, but against the desire of the people to put Allmanism behind them and lead a quiet life. I think, just before I went back to Malchior IV, Aster called it the anesthetizing of society.

At the time, I disagreed, which is why I took Eachan’s job offer. This is how our political arguments usually go - she comes at me from the left, I defend myself, and then find myself having to grudgingly admit years later that she was right. Inevitable when you have a Shifter who goes to Free Teruga marches working for a Unionist. (The pattern with Richard was different - he would also come at me from the hard left, but increasingly also from the far-right, and I would, of course, admit no such thing.) I would ask her for advice on what to do next, but I doubt she’ll want to speak to me just now. Besides, Lundby tells me she’s doing GOTV for her on Yari, and that seems more useful to the cause right now. I hope our friendship is not permanently over. If I win, someone will have to run the home front, and while Peres will surely complain, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have doing that than her.

I pray that we make it through this coming apocalypse in one piece. Maybe someone will find Lilith Heyerdahl alive and well in some escape pod. In principle, I have no problem with dying while facing fearful odds, for the ashes of my fathers and the temples of my gods, but frankly, I’d much rather prefer to die peacefully in my sleep after an evening of reminiscing about the time I faced fearful odds and lived to tell the tale.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told, Homecoming Chapel>

Sally walked up the stairs and into the chapel, which despite the Homecomers’ best efforts still looked very much like a storage room full of chairs with some art hastily thrown onto the walls. Not that they minded - Homecoming was not exactly a religion that cared much for opulence. She’d had years to get used to it, but for her the whole setup fell between two proverbial stools - as a pure product of modern, increasingly nihilistic Tanari society, to her religion was either an ever-shrinking set of ancient Stäbils clinging onto grandiose ceremonies in beautiful but decaying churches, or the occasional Shifter fleeing into the wilderness to rejoin the nature they insisted their people had originally emerged from.

“Ah, Sally.” said the chaplain sitting at the front of the room. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I imagine you’ve come to ask me how we could possibly suggest abandoning the purpose of the Coldest Story. I’m sure you already have a whole rant prepared about how the Vrai are not to be trusted, and how we risk putting ourselves in danger for the sake of a mirage.”

“Wow, I thought I was the psychic here.”

“You’re the third person today to come here because of this. All I can tell you, Sally, is look outside.” The chaplain walked over to the window, which overlooked a plaza of sorts, and opened it. The plaza was usually bustling and full of life, a hub of the Coldest Story Ever Told’s peculiar miniature economy, but not today - instead, a crowd was pressed together in front of a large holo-projector, watching the broadcast of Ascheron’s speech in stunned shock.

“We are entering a dangerous time, Sally. We all came here to build a better life away from all that.”

“And for five years, we succeeded.” she replied sadly. “People look up to us for what we’ve done here.”

“Yes, and they’re right to do so. We must preserve what we’ve built here. It’s just that some of us think the best way to preserve it may be to, well, scale up.”

-----

<Yari III, Radical Camp>

Death. Death. Death.

Richard was getting restless. He had planned out his revolution down to the smallest detail, and now all he had to do was wait for the final pieces of the puzzle - Aster and Von Budberg - to fall into place. Why, he’d had a very productive conversation with Vlad the other day. Vlad had asked him some stupid questions about how he planned to hold Yari for long enough to build up an army to take over the rest of the Confederation, and how he would run his future state. Richard’s answers, he thought, were very cogent and intelligent, and his right-hand man had no further questions.

Blood. Blood. Blood. The Void Magic Blackout had used to revive him remained within him even now, even though he was very much alive and well, and it called out to its new host. It wanted to be used, it made demands. There were moments when it was hard to hear what was happening around him over the noise it seemed to make. It was embarrassing in its way, but Richard managed. It hadn’t led to any real problems yet as far as he could tell. Blood. Blood. Death.

The waiting was relentless, and he was close to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. Richard’s mind and heart both felt like they were racing at a million miles an hour. Blood. Death. Despair. He paced around his camp, inspecting his troops yet again. Yes, he had created an army. The disaffected youth and lonely, bitter veterans flocked to his cause. Those who had no one to miss them lived in the camp now and trained, and the others would only join them under the cover of night and return home afterwards. There were several other camps like this across Yari, all waiting for his signal to strike.

Right now, a few of his ‘soldiers’ were huddled around the only holo-projector in the camp, watching a broadcast of FSA and New Order ships fighting over some random planet, interspersed with clips from Ascheron’s speech. Others seemed to be watching the same broadcast using Virtual Interface Headsets. Shifters were not capable of using normal VIs - for obvious reasons it was not possible to install a brain implant in the head of someone who didn’t have a brain as humanoids understood the term, and VIs tended to be expensive anyway, and so someone eventually came up with the idea of creating headsets that could perform some of the same functions at a slightly lower speed when worn and marketing them as a cheap substitute.

Richard could tell that the kids were stunned by the sheer ferocity of the New Order’s attack, and how the FSA had been caught by surprise. He had not told them that their revolution was backed by the New Order. While they had been equipped with many Takemikazuchi weapons, those curious enough to ask were told that they had been stolen, and the handful who continued to ask questions afterwards could simply be ‘sent home’. They would find out in time, but it was not yet time. They were not ready yet. Richard knew rebelling against the powers that be was a gradual process. For now, his children only dreamed of striking a blow against their society - once they had actually struck that blow, they might be ready to make the next step, but not yet. Soon, he thought. Soon

Death. Death. Despair.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Presidential Mansion>

Shae Eachan paced anxiously around Room 52 of the Presidential mansion, debating if she was really about to go ahead with this. Once she did, she would be past the point of no return. She had turned on the holo-projector in the room to cover up any noise she might make, though with her husband, Van Smoot, Reed, and much of the staff all away campaigning (she had feigned illness to stay behind) there was much less chance of discovery anyway. It was a sign of how long she had been in the room that she had finally reached a rare break in the wall-to-wall (and understandably so) coverage of the New Order offensive against the FSA, and two pundits were now breathlessly discussing the latest developments regarding Wilson City and the Tanari military’s attempts to find the source of the anti-shifter field. One of them mentioned Freya Jackson MP, who had apparently been suspended from the MRF pending investigation of allegations of ‘bringing the party into disrepute’ by trying to conspire with Reed to undermine the leadership of the party in the middle of an election campaign, and both pundits had a brief argument about the implications of that, as if it mattered in the grand scheme of things. Anyway, Shae had met Jackson once, and thought she was an annoying woman. She couldn’t really sympathise.

Shae took a deep breath, and whispered the phrase from the note Peter North had slipped her. At first, she couldn’t tell anything had changed, until she noticed that the wall behind the little bookcase at one end of the room had shifted very slightly, revealing a secret passageway. She looked down the little crack apprehensively. Though she still had to prepare, there was, at least, a way out, she thought. She carefully closed the door, turned off the projector, and left.

-----

<A Distant Planet in the Middle of Nowhere, At Some Point During the Vrai War>

Visibly wincing against the unrelenting heat of the dead planet, Alfred Ernst von Budberg carefully uncorked his water flask, and took a long gulp. Around him was barren wilderness as far as the eye could see. Somehow, Jones Enterprises had convinced the government there might be something on this planet that could help the Confederation against the Vrai, something worth dispatching the elite genetically-modified soldiers of Unit 709 to protect them. Having spent the last few days doing nothing but watching the xenoarchaeologists sent by the corporation bicker over a hole in the ground, he wasn’t so sure. At least he would come back home with a tan.

“Edward, this is insane.” he moaned at his friend, who was standing next to him. “Go check on them. They have to have made some progress since yesterday.”

“I think it’s your turn.” Lieutenant Edward Allman replied flatly.

“Last time they just fobbed me off with gobbledegook. I think they just make stuff up to mess with me, but the lead one seems to be scared of you.”

“Fine.” Allman walked up to the hole and began to speak to the scientists, only for all of them - including Allman - to be suddenly blown away by a plasma mortar that struck them almost directly. Three, no, four Vrai now appeared in the distance, and opened fire on him. They hadn’t appeared to be there before - they must have perfected their stealth tech since their last encounter, Von Budberg thought. With superhuman speed, the Tanari ran for cover and began to return fire with his sidearm, but it did little. He sent a radio message desperately requesting backup, and prayed that it would arrive soon. Meanwhile, as they exchanged fire, completely uninterested in it, a dark shimmer emerged from the smoking crater that had once been the hole in the ground the xenoarchaeologists had been so interested in, and slowly moved towards the bodies of the fallen Tanari.

And then, just as Von Budberg was about to run out of ammo and the Vrai troopers were coming closer, a sudden blast of some sort of dark energy burned all of them to a crisp. Edward Allman now stood next to him, seemingly none worse for the wear despite having seemingly just taken a direct hit from a mortar, and smiled as he helped him up.

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<Cardena Detention Camp, Moon of Yari V, At Some Point During the Tanari War>

“Aster! There you are!” Richard barked. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Aster turned around, clearly slightly startled at having her private moment interrupted. She had been standing near the very edge of the atmospheric dome that contained Cardena detention camp, looking out into space and lost in thought. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just pretending to myself that I can see Old Saskana from here. This is technically the closest I’ve been to being back home since before the coup.”

“How can you think… at a time like this…” Richard swore under his breath. “Have you seen what happened here?”

Aster’s mildly bashful expression now turned into a flash of anger as she walked right up to her friend. “Yes, of course I fucking have. What does that have to do with me looking at the sky?”

Cardena was but one of many detention camps that were now peppered throughout Allman’s Tanari Confederation. It was full of dissidents and attempted draft dodgers, Shifter and Stäbil alike, which was evil enough if unsurprising in a way, but also their families and known close friends, as well as those of people who had swallowed any qualms they may have had and served the regime, but had nevertheless been deemed ‘unreliable elements’ - a completely arbitrary designation - by some anonymous bureaucrat. All of them, of course, were mixed freely with common criminals, just in case. Few emerged alive from these places - until now. In a daring raid, Aster and Richard’s resistance unit had hijacked a Tanari freighter bound for the moon of Yari V, and used it to, effectively, walk right up to Cardena and attack it in such a way that the Allmanite troops manning the camp had no idea what hit them and could not call for reinforcements. As far as they could tell, every single one of them was now dead, and the freighter was now being filled with prisoners, who would be ferried to Malchiorian space as quickly as possible.

“This is pure evil. When I look around me, the only thing I can think about is wanting to murder every single Allmanite.” Richard hissed. “I can’t think about home right now. Apparently you can.”

“We saved hundreds and hundreds of innocent people. They’re going to be safe, they’re going to stand a chance of going home one day. I think we can allow ourselves this.” Aster hissed right back. “Maybe you’ve scooped out your normal emotions with a spoon to make more room for righteous fury, but I’m not quite there yet.” Having no intention of continuing the conversation, she stormed off back towards their ship, passing an admittedly creative poster of Allman performing an anatomically impossible act on himself made in advance of the raid by a member of their unit and pinned on one of the barracks once the attack was over as she did so.

Richard shook his head. “I don’t think I’m the only one suppressing emotions here.” he muttered to himself.

-----

<The Coldest Story Ever Told, Cargo Storage 3>

“Guillaume? Guillaume?” Prush called out as he walked among the crates. A Terugan smuggler had recently stopped by the city-ship and dropped off a few things people had ordered, most notably Guillaume’s infamous shipment of Takemikazuchi coffee - ‘Sefer Yetzirah’s favourite brand’, as the rumour went - and Prush had been told it had been left in Cargo Storage 3 and that Guillaume had just gone to pick it up now. The security chief followed him in the hopes of surprising his friend, and maybe wrangling a cup of the good stuff out of the deal, but now he was nowhere to be found. And on top of that, something smelled funny.

Eventually, he came across a large crate, easily big enough to fit a grown man, with what looked like a New Order emblem stamped on it, and which seemed to be open. As he walked over to it, the odd smell intensified. He looked inside, and found no coffee - but did find Guillaume, lying in a pool of his own blood mixed with some other, dark blue liquid.

Prush activated his VI, and sent out a voice message. “Prush to Security. We have a problem in Storage 3. Looks like murder… and a possible intruder on board.”

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