BZPB: Resurgence

[Vonilla orbit, Adriatica Halls]
Swiftly slitting the crewman's throat the spell drops, revealing her form. She snatches up the blade and firearm, donns her hood to obscure her face and turns on the suddenly apparated individual, blade held horizontally and the gun trained on the witness to her covert assassination, she quips quickly.

"Name and affiliation before you wind up like this one," gesturing with her head toward the body on the floor.

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

“Woah, woah,” Bob replied, holding his hands up. “Easy. Name’s Bob. I’m from Malchior, but I’m not part of their military...at least not anymore. I’m a friend of Klak’s, I take it he put you here too?”

Bob glanced at one of the girl’s weapons.

“If so, aren’t you going to share?”

--

[Moon of Vonilla, Space Station]

Klak’s eyes widened as the ships attacked the Vonillan station. He followed Canaan as they tried to get back from the incoming onslaught.

It all happened so quickly that before Klak knew it, Canaan Jones had been slammed into a wall by something called a PsyTrooper.

Klak glared at his incoming enemy.

“When Canaan first told me about the plans for an incredibly powerful psychic trooper, I thought he was exaggerating,” Klak said. “But he was right. You’re an impressive weapon, I’ll admit. But you’re just another toy for Sefer to kill innocents with.”

Klak activated his enhanced speed and blitzed up to the PsyTrooper. He rapidly punched the PsyTrooper at various parts of its body, hoping to destroy it with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, the Malchiorian battlecruiser started firing on the Pacifica. They were assisted by scores of Vonillan fighter ships that had arrived from the other side of the station. The fighter ships flurried around the Pacifica and fired at the ship’s guns, hoping to be lucky enough to destroy the New Order payload before the next volley.

--

[FSA General Assembly, Krieger's Office]

After his resignation as Malchiorian Secretary of State, Krieger was still able to pull some strings to get an office in the vast FSA building under the title of "Special FSA Envoy". This in truth was an excuse for him to remain close to the FSA while he plotted his political ascent to Secretary-General.

Krieger adjusted his collar, then pressed a button, opening the call link with Graff Heyerdahl.

"Graff old buddy, it's so good to talk to you!" Krieger chirped. "I asked our Business Affairs person to forward it over to me on account of our friendship since we were old college buddies and all."

--

[Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven]

“Money?” Hercules scoffed. “If we succeed we won’t need money.”

Hercules stayed silent for a moment, seemingly trapped in an internal debate. He nodded to himself, then glanced up at Dallas.

“I can send you some credits, or offer my services,” he said. “Or both. Either way, I’m asking your help in making this dream possible. I’m asking you to help me create a world where soldiers decide for themselves what to believe and what to fight for.”

--

[Battle of Adorra, Vongola]

Cassandra Cromwell smiled.

“You’re on the right track,” she said, admitting the truth about her gyndroid “form”. The wire-guided missile hit before she could respond to Arwell’s offer.

As the Diamond Dogs rushed to fight back the attackers, Cassandra weakly began speaking to herself.

“Call it off...tell them to call it off,” she coughed. “You heard Arwell...tell the Generalissimo….”

--

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

Kane successfully grabbed Julio and pulled him up into the air. Julio began moving himself so as to swing free from Kane’s grasp. When that was unsuccessful, he pulled out a small sidearm and began firing it at Kane’s chest.

-

The somersaulting soldier’s missiles exploded, blasting away most of the soldiers near the artillery gun. The gunners too were killed, some by the blast and others by the ensuing shrapnel. The explosions damaged the artillery installation as well: one of the installation’s wheels was completely destroyed, while another received some damage. It was not enough to cause the barrel to fall over, but a few more blasts would do the trick.

The rebels had two options: capture the gun and use it on all the other artillery installations, or destroy each one by one.

The installations all used a drone targeting system, a necessity considering how difficult it was to set up targeting satellites. The drone positioned incredibly high in the sky,  provided a 3D real-time map that gave artillery gunners the position of all the targets in a given area.

Meanwhile, the remaining VPR troopers fought like hell, even though most of the soldiers that were next to the gun had been killed. One noticed the explosions and ran towards the artillery installation in a last-ditch effort to save the installation.

-

Elsewhere in the city, Captain Spencer K. Delaney grunted as he ducked behind the wall of a ruined building to avoid enemy fire. He peeked out and fired back, killing one of the VPR soldiers.

Captain Delaney looked at his comrades, his head covered in soot.  

“Push forward! We’ll have this part of the city soon!” he shouted.

A rebel hovertank approached them from the north street corner, laying down suppressive fire. Windows, plasteel, and cement exploded in various buildings as numerous VPR soldiers were cut down. But before the tank could arrive, it was incinerated by a volley of plasma artillery.

--

[Battleship Vengeance, Vykon System]

Caiaphus nodded.

“Perhaps she is one of the more dangerous ones,” he admitted. “And if she is on Liquid Metallicon, she has likely figured out how to get at least some of the pirate lords on her side.”

Caiaphus put a finger on his chin.

“But the other...Aerenvas, was it?” he asked. “He has no doubt made an attempt to get the FSA on his side. It is ultimately a question of which army is more dangerous. The devil we know, or the devil we don’t know.”

Caiaphus looked up at Arc Zyandar, then bowed rather sardonically.

“I shall follow your lead either way.”

--

[Lucky Money Club, Liquid Metallicon]

Many of the Pirate Lords started to laugh, their cackling soaring throughout the room. Meanwhile, Ozar said nothing.

“Very well,” he said, immediately interrupting the laughter and silencing the room. “Baze, figure out how to do that without getting yourself killed. Some of the other pirate lords can go with Veyelan to support her in the fight. But the same roles go to everyone else. Keichi and I will take care of those insolent FSA bastards, and Akzer will be our emissary. Any objections?”

Keichi and Akzer smiled. Fourteen kept his arms crossed.

--

[Fleet Carrier Hermes, Malchiorian local space, Malchior System]

The Malchiorian Officer’s hologram reappeared in all of the ships.

“We on Malchior thank you for your assistance, we are indebted to you,” she extolled. The hologram disappeared.

A few minutes passed in what felt like ages. Finally, the hologram appeared for the third time.

“Crew of the Hermes and fleet, you may land when ready,” she assured. “Secretary of State Russello is expecting you.”

--

[Somewhere on the planet Iotunort]

The planet Iotunort was a snowy world. It had many frozen tundras and icy glaciers, interrupted by pockets of forests. Only select areas of the planet were habitable, with the poles virtually inhospitable to nonnative life. As such, the planet was not as densely populated compared to neighboring worlds in its system. Iotunort’s sapient denizens primarily belonged to three species: the furry Iotun, the moth-like Zrujim, and the human settlers. At the same time, other species would come to the planet for a variety of reasons, including economic opportunities.

Iotunort was prized for its wealth in minerals, lumber, metals, furs, and even blubber. Scientists also flocked to the world to study its climate, fauna, and rare FLora. It also helped that Iotunort was near a trade hub planet in a system that wasn’t far from a prominent FTL route. Iotunort’s strategic value increased once various intergalactic militaries and agencies discovered they could hide bases in the snowier, less populated areas of the planet.

Among these was a group of FSA installations, all answering to Central Command Base Abraham. The installations were allowed on the planet thanks to a joint agreement with Iotun, Zrujim, and Iotunortite humans. The FSA ran numerous secret operations out of the bases, adopting and updating an infrastructure that dated back to the Galactic Government’s war against the Vrai.

Unfortunately, psychic interrogations led to the New Order learning of all about the FSA’s activities on Iotunort as well as the planet’s decision to align itself with the FSA. Arc Jeriko, a pyrokinetic adamah, led a small force to break through the spacial defenses and destroy all FSA installations on the planet; a prelude to a larger scale invasion that would “convince” all of the Iotunorti of the error of their ways.

Arc Jeriko’s forces successfully captured Base Sigma, but found resistance at Base Theta thanks to Commissar Andrea Ashley Hathaway. The Commissar led FSA forces in a battle to defend Theta, with plans to eventually reclaim Sigma.

Commissar Hathaway fired her submachine blaster into incoming New Order forces. Legions of snowflakes falling on her uniform, and she felt the tiny knives of the frigid air pierce her pores. She nonetheless smiled and shouted at her fellow FSA soldiers.

“This planet’s too cold for these bastards,” she declared, haughtily. “Send them someplace warmer!”

Meanwhile, Malchiorian Captain Aristotle Mutinta and Otivyte Sgt. Stokko Kilardeef each took on squadrons of New Order soldiers on their own. Sgt. Stokko pulled out a beam saber and cut down some of his enemies.

“Come on you asteroid munchers,” Commissar shouted at her FSA soldiers as she fired another mag. “You want to live forever?!”

Meanwhile, underneath the surface in the underground caverns that the Zrujim called home, a group of monks anxiously looked above them, hoping that the mysterious artifact that they were protecting would not fall into the hands of either the FSA or the New Order.

Who will win in the campaign for Iotunort? And will some brave adventurer claim the artifact and unlock its mysteries...or die trying?

<Tanari Homeworld, President’s Residence>

“Good, good.” Eachan said. “I will, of course, have my best spies pursue the matter. And I hope you, and in time the rest of the FSA, will do the same. Thank you, Emperor.”

As Silver terminated the call, he took a moment to process the information Ascheron just gave him. Part of him couldn’t help but think he had just kicked off something the consequences he couldn’t possibly predict. He told himself it was Sefer Yetzirah who had kicked it off, not him. He chose to move on, and ask his aide to draft two top-secret communiqués - one to his ambassador to the FSA to instruct him to vote for Ascheron for secretary-general, and another to create a secret task force to investigate the Bendu matter. Perhaps this Sylen Kurze would be a good leader for it, he thought.

-----

<Office on Malchior IV>

The Tanari Confederation’s ambassador to the FSA suddenly looked up from the report he was reading, as an aide barged into his office. “Sir, sorry to interrupt you, but we have a top priority message from the President for you.” she said, handing her boss the print-out. Her boss looked at it for a few seconds, shook his head, and placed the piece of paper in the disintegrator on his desk. Such things shouldn’t hang around - one couldn’t be too careful.

“May the gods forgive us.” David Robert Jones said.

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

As Kane was already swinging Julio around, he released him as soon as he saw him pull out the sidearm, flinging him at a wall. Nevertheless, Julio’s first shot still hit Kane, taking the chest cannon he had previously fired at the K’thaan out of action for some time and ensuring its recharge time would be longer even after the auto-repair system eventually fixed the bulk of the damage.

---

One exosuited soldier ran into the path of the trooper running towards the installation, and fired his kinetic cannon at him. Meanwhile, three others blasted off using their jetpacks, landed by the installation’s controls, and began to aim it towards another cannon.

-----

<Tanari Homeworld, Shifter Hideout>

“Drop your weapons and step out of the hotel. Killing you is the absolute thing we want to do! You are our guests, we need you.” Richard, standing outside the abandoned hotel, yelled through a bullhorn at the escaped prisoners. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” he then said, handing the bullhorn back to his bald, visored aide, who looked distinctly unimpressed with the whole thing.


“He’s dead.” Amanda said, checking the fallen Terugan’s pulse. “The hell do we do now? If we come out all guns blazing through that little door, we’ll get slaughtered, and these shitty little rifles aren’t made for sniping from upstairs.”

“They’ve probably covered the fire exit as well. They’d be stupid not to.” Ashton pointed out.

“We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes.” Pes shrugged in a way that, as all of his friends knew, was basically reflexive for him.

“Yeah, but we need a plan. I don’t have one, do you?”

“I do.” Van Smoot suddenly spoke up.

“You?” Ashton scoffed.

“He is a military commander…” Amanda said. “Hear him out.”

Ashton shook his head and huffed as Van Smoot began to explain. “He says he wants us alive, does he not? In that case, we should threaten the opposite.”

“What, we should threaten to kill ourselves? And that helps us… how?” Ashton laughed.

“Yes, exactly. We rig up an explosion and then hide. If we are as valuable to him as prisoners as he says we are, he will send his men in to save us from the flames.” Van Smoot said calmly. “The exit is a choke point for us if we want out. Thus, we reverse who gets choked.”

“That’s actually quite good. Anyone have anything to rig up an explosion with?” Pes said.

“Ashton’s face?” one of the Terugans said, gesturing to the seething Ashton. The entire party laughed, even Van Smoot, which inevitably only made Ashton angrier.

“Old carpet.” Amanda pointed downwards. “Plasma fire should set it alight.”

And so, the party split into two groups, both of whom went down one of the conveniently located staircases leading to an underground car park located on either side of the lobby which were definitely there before, and each of them began firing upwards at the carpet, which caught fire even quicker than Amanda expected.


Outside, the bald shifter suddenly realised there was smoke coming from the hotel. “What the hell are they doing in there?” he mumbled.

“Nothing good, probably.” Richard said. “Alright, lads, let’s move in. I don’t want them burning down my hotel.”

Richard’s men advanced on the hotel, completely oblivious to what would have appeared from afar to be vast, predatory birds with rifles, somehow, strapped to their backs hovering above the scene. “Are they really boxing themselves in for us?” Aster, who, along with the rest of the shifters, had changed into a winged form, chirped. "Let's descend."

[ Liquid Metallicon ]

Drake stood close behind Baze Ishikawa as Ciro led the little party out onto the darkened streets of Liquid Metallicon’s capital. Baze’s men fell in behind them, a gaggle of men in baggy grey suits, underarm holsters showing under their jackets. The attempted display of power didn’t phase Drake. His armour could stop most rounds from a conventional handheld weapon, and was even rated for some larger artillery, as well as being explosive resistant, thermally rated from -250 to +350c and hermetically sealed against chemical attack. The electrofibre musculature of the under-suit allowed him massively enhanced speed, stamina and strength. His neural implants allowed him to react lightning fast, making snap decisions and calculations. Drake was Ciro’s weapon.

Ciro opened a link to Bol aboard the Gypsy and told him to bring down some more of the crew to meet them at Eastern Seaport, where Baze’s ship was docked. Bol had muttered something about their sensors being disabled, but Ciro trusted him to have it sorted. She then hailed a taxi, a large black saloon with enough space (just) for Drake in his armour, Ciro, Baze and two of his men. The car sped through the neon lit streets, and Ciro began making calls to some of her contacts on the planet. Julian Obress, for a set of micronuclear explosives that would lace Baze’s ship. Naina Hiri, for a souped-up shield generator for the Gypsy. And her old first mate, Swain, who she hoped would join them for this particular endeavour.

“No.”

“Oh come now Swain darling, I know we didn’t part on the best of terms but I’m really in a pinch.”

“You left me for dead!”

“Don’t be daft Swain, you were dead. It’s only through the marvel of modern medicine you can even have this little chat with me right now and I am not a doctor. What was I supposed to do, perform brain surgery there and then?”

Swain merely grunted down the telecomm link.

“And anyway, I haven’t seen the dogs in years, how are my little darlings?” Ciro practically squealed.

“Fine, S’pose. Eat me out of ‘ouse and ‘ome though, bastards.”

“Oh they are dear. I’ll count you in then yes? Eastern Seaport, 30 minutes please darling. And bring some of those new fellows you hang around with. I think we’ll need their services.”



[ Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven ]

“Men like me always need money, Hercules.” Dallas regarded the man across from him for a long time. His handsome features were showing the signs of stress, dark bags under his eyes and the first whispers of wrinkles on his ageless face. Hercules Splendor was a man of conviction and action. That he showed such internal conflict unsettled Dallas somewhat.

“Look,” Dallas said, lighting another cigarette clamped between his thin lips. “The Dogs are the best in the galaxy. It affords us a lot of freedom, but the New Order seeks to end that. At some point, I’m going to have to fight Sefer anyway. But equally, I can’t just throw my lot in with you Hercules, not without details. I need to hear a plan, concrete details. I don’t deal in abstracts.”


[ Battle of Adorra, Vongola ]

Arwell watched as Cassandra’s gyndroid body slipped into unconsciousness, and then nodded to himself, as though making an internal resolution. He climbed back up into the RHINO, clamping the door shut behind him with a hiss. As his VI melded once more with the suits systems, a slight smile began to twitch the corner of his lip. He was beginning to enjoy this, and now he was one step closer to Uteriach.

Arwell leapt the sandbag wall, the hydraulic servos of the suit whining as they fought gravity, pushing him through the air. At the apex of his short flight, Arwell loosed a volley of thermobaric missiles, crimson targeting graphics flashing in his vision. The warheads rocketed out over the shattered landscape, and after a moment of stillness four great explosions blossomed. The VPR tank that Arwell had hit began smoking violently, the crew bailing out. The ammunition inside began cooking off, engulfing the vehicle in purple flame and black, roiling smoke.

“Let’s go,” Arwell radioed to Cai-Wei before saluting Dreis and Holbach. They set off across the battlefield toward Armechius, loping through craters and the ruined cityscape of Adorra.



[ Heyerdahl Corporation Headquarters, New Harpenden, Ordon V ]

A smile spread across Graff’s face as the image of Kreiger appeared on the dataslate. “It’s been a long time Olivio. I hope you and the family are well. I’ll be honest, I was expecting to be on hold for a while with the rep, so it's nice to get to speak to a friendly face.” Heyerdahl and Kreiger had shared classes in Advanced Economic Theory at Terwilliger State College back when they were both young men. Graff remembered Olivio as being driven, motivated and somewhat bookish, always concentrated on his academic efforts. Graff of course had been no slouch himself, but he’d certainly partied harder than his old friend, preferring the football field to the library of a summer afternoon.

The two men shared pleasantries and stories for a while before Graff’s face grew more serious, the conversation steering toward the ongoing war. “I’ll be honest Olivio, the New Order schmucks have been at my door, hounding me to side with them and give them the rights to the VI, as well as use Ordon V as a waypoint for them. I told them in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But your people are hard to get hold of. What's the deal Olivio? Is the FSA faltering? I want to help; no, Heyerdahl Corporation wants to help. Those New Order fascists can stick it.”

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

The arcanely adept woman clicks on the safety of the gun, tucking it within her ruined and passes Bob the sword, cautiously, hilt first.

"Willow. Hoping to court favor with Mr. President for my own mission. He's asked me to take out as many crew as I can, quietly. Then meet him in the bridge."

Willow marches down the hall, looking for her next victim

[ Moon of Vonilla ]

The Pacifica's combat air patrol engaged with the attacking fighters as explosions rocked the ship. Captain Massa roared in anger as the Malchiorian cruiser attacked.

"Pull us back towards the fleet! We can't survive an extended engagement at this close range."

--

Meanwhile on the station, Klak tore apart the PsyTrooper - which, whilst it had made short work of Canaan, was no match for Klak's powers. It stumbled backwards, then collapsed from the massive damage he had inflicted, blood and coolant pooling around its twitching body. Canaan climbed to his feet, wincing in pain, a concerned look on his face. Something's wrong. Even for Klak, that was too easy.

Then it clicked.

"That... that PsyTrooper's consciousness will download into a new body within a few minutes." he stated. "They don't die, Klak. Not really. It'll reincarnate with all the knowledge of your powers that it just observed, and worse still, it'll teach what it knows to the others. It wanted you to kill it." he added, picking up a rifle from a fallen nearby marine. "In a few minutes, every PsyTrooper here will know how to counter your abilities. We need to get off this station before that happens."

--

On the Adriatica, Arc Valorus grinned as the battle unfolded before him.

"Continue main railgun charge sequence. Fire when ready."

<Tanari Homeworld, Shifter Hideout>

The shifters walked into the hotel lobby to find the flames consuming the carpet and much of the room, letting loose plumes of smoke. “What on earth?” Richard managed to get out between fits of coughing. The shifters wanted to back away, out of the lobby, but the bald aide stopped them. “No. We need the prisoners.”

Richard, the aide and another shifter began to shift into a form more suited to the extreme heat, only to be faced with volleys of plasma gunfire coming from an odd angle across the room as Ashton and Amanda, respectively, opened fire from the middle of each staircase, then moved back down to the underground car park, then ran back up to fire again. Two shifters were mowed down by the gunfire, falling backwards into the walls, which were also beginning to catch fire, and another one was hit in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his rifle.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! It’s a trap!” Richard shouted, and gestured at his men to leave the room. They began to do so, only to be suddenly faced with the unexpected sight of Aster and her militia all standing just outside, aiming their rifles at them.

“Well, well, Richard,” Aster said, smiling at the burning building. “Seems like you’ve got this under control.”

“Aster,” Richard hissed. “I thought you weren’t about the whole ‘running about with guns’ life anymore.”

“We protect our own. Even from children playing with fire.” another one of the militia said.

Meanwhile, having realised their opponents were distracted, Van Smoot moved onto the next phase of the plan - having the mercs exit the car park by going up the entry ramp, which would allow them to sneak up on Richard and co. Upon doing so, they were suddenly confronted by another militiaman, this one in the form of a bald man with an unhealthy-looking slight yellow tint to his skin, waiting by the car park entrance and pointing a rifle at anything that might emerge.

“Are you with Richard?” he screamed.

“Who’s Richard?” Ashton shrugged. “We got kidnapped by these bozos. Who the heck are you?”

“Sorry, guys.” the shifter put down his rifle. “We’re with the MRF. The people who kidnapped you were a rogue element. We’re here to neutralise them. We apologise.”

“MRF?” Pes raised his eyebrow.

“Movement for Rights and Freedoms.” Van Smoot said. One could hear the air quotes falling into place. “Communists and traitors.”

“Why, you little-” The shifter began to approach Van Smoot menacingly, only to be interrupted by Aster yelling at him over her shoulder. “Oy! Play nice, Hamish! Bring them over here!” Hamish reluctantly complied, leading the mercs and Van Smoot over to the line of militia members.

“This isn’t over.” Richard said, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t surrounded and outgunned. “Others will follow me.”

“Nah, it’s over.” Aster said. “MRF plays by my rules.”

“Are you so naive as to think that just by handing me over to Eachan you’re going to curry favour with him somehow?” Richard laughed. “Our freedom is more important than your ego, Aster!”

“Yes, our freedom is the thing we want. Hence the clean-up before you end up spilling our blood.”

“I won’t go.” Richard pleaded. Spotting a moment of weakness, he suddenly threw himself at a random militia member, hoping to grab their weapon. Reflexively, Aster fired, shooting him down, and then immediately put it down, stunned into silence by what she had just done.

A commotion erupted around her, as the militia members began to haul away Richard’s few remaining acolytes, and Hamish suddenly found a friend in Ashton by mocking Van Smoot to his face about how it was the ‘commies’ who were going to get him back to his home and family, but Aster seemed hardly aware of it. Her tall, bald aide gently led her away with the others, leaving Richard to bleed out next to the burning hotel.

Likewise, and yet not quite, Richard could barely register what was happening through the agony of bleeding out on the concrete. As everyone left the scene, a smile almost formed on his lips, and then he closed his eyes, awaiting death. And then, a blurry, dark figure materialised in the air just above him, and a strange energy began to engulf him.

-----

<Malchior, Undisclosed Location>

Nadle’s attention was suddenly drawn to an interesting-looking envelope sitting on his desk with an elegant seal stamped on it. If Nadle chose to open it, he would find it contained the following letter:

Spoiler:

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

Bob nodded.

“Great to meet you, Willow,” he whispered as he followed Willow down the hall. He heard a few guards approaching.

“Heads up, I hear two guards,” he warned. “I say use melee to take them out from behind. My gun would make too much noise and spoil the surprise we have for whichever Arc is commanding this can.”

-

[Moon of Vonilla]

The Malchiorian battlecruiser continued firing as the fighters kept trying to swarm the Pacifica.

“Don’t let them get away!” the Malchiorian admiral Peter Kamarov shouted.

-

“Son of a bitch,” Klak sighed. “It will be a war of attrition until they’ve figured out our every move, then we’re doomed. They don’t have some sort of hub? Anything we can take down that will stop them from killing everyone on here?”

Klak picked up a rifle from another fallen marine.

“There has to be some way to lead them away from the station and away from my battlecruiser,” Klak pondered. “At least until Bob and that kid take over the ship. Then I’ll be able to get aboard.”

Klak aimed his rifle around, aiming to see if any PsyTroopers were incoming.

--

[Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven]

“Fair enough,” Hercules replied. He pulled out a cigarette. Dallas inched forward holding a lighter and lit up Hercules’s cigarette. “Thanks.”

Hercules nodded to himself again.

“What if we took a planet for ourselves,” he suggested. “Made a statement.”

“Vongola?” Dallas asked. “You’ll have to get in line for that one.”

“No, too complicated,” Hercules said. “We’ve both had a hand in this war for years. We know what it’s like. Unless we drastically shift the balance of power here, it’ll take us forever to get anywhere. Unless...”

Hercules’s eyes lit up as an idea formed in his mind.

“I was going to suggest a planet that’s much easier to take,” Hercules continued. “But if we found the way to tip the scales here on Vongola, the New Order and the FSA will get the message. There’s some intel that even I’m not allowed to know, but I’ve heard rumors. They say Crimson King is alive. I don’t know where he is, but if we put him back in play, the VPR might win. Or, if we killed him and Pink Devil in front of all of those other commies, the VPR would collapse and Kozin can finally form a government that keeps Kane and the others happy. Either side would owe us a debt too.”

Crimson King was the designation many Malchiorian intelligence agencies had for Uteriach di Armechio. Pink Devil referred to Figlio di Armechio.

“As for money...like I said, I can pay you something. However, I can’t guarantee it’ll cover all of your troubles. I’m afraid I’ll owe you a debt, one paid in service to you...the freest man I’ve ever known.”

-

[Battle of Adorra, Vongola]

Cassandra felt her mind slip. Her gyndroid puppet drifted out of consciousness as its systems began to shut down. The body activated a self-destruct mechanism, and the body exploded.

Cassandra screamed as her mind reeled back to her true body, seeing only a flash of light...

…

[Whispering Willow Base, Somewhere on Vongola]

Cassandra Cromwell grunted as a mechanical arm lifted the neural link headset off of her face. A loud whirring sound preceded a louder whooshing sound as her sensory pod opened. The security restraints that held onto her arms and legs clinked open, and a pair of mechanical arms slowly grabbed onto her and pulled her to her floating wheelchair.

Cassandra had been wounded in the early years of the Vongolan Civil War. However, rather than accept robotic legs, she decided to volunteer for an experimental program developed by a team of Vongolan, Lurian, and even Tanari scientists (back when they were all on the same side anyway). It took lots of experiments, but now she now could command various gyndroid bodies by linking into an advanced neural shunt and sensory pod. Cassandra was now a one woman army set for special missions in the service of the Vongolan People’s Republic--and her Generalissimo.

One of Cassandra’s handlers approached her.

“Well?” the handler asked. “Is it true?”

“I think so,” Cassandra gasped. “And Arwell doesn’t seem to be the type that will wait for an invitation.”

“We better alert Armechius,” the handler replied, nodding.

-

[Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio remained in his office, peering at the distant city square through his window. He saw a crowd gathered around a stage. A VPR officer stood on the stage, with a group of dissidents kneeling in front of him. The VPR officer went one by one, reading the names and crimes of each dissident and summarily executing them by shooting them at point blank range. The crowd cheered at each death, chanting the VPR slogan as the bodies piled up.

--

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

Julio crashed through the wall. He grit his teeth as he landed on the other side with debris all around him. Thankfully, he had gripped his sidearm with the strength of a K’thaanic warrior, and thus still had the weapon in his hands.

Julio lifted himself up. He aimed at Kane, who was still in the air despite his exosuit problems, and fired his gun three times.

-

The Vongolan trooper was instantly crippled by the kinetic cannon, dying instantly. Another trooper swerved and saw the rebels trying to use the artillery cannon.

“Stop them!” he shouted to his comrades. He pulled up his communicator and alerted the other artillery installations.

The VPR soldiers all charged at the rebels in one last attempt to take the cannon back.

Meanwhile, the personnel at the other artillery installations buzzed around, preparing to fire on the installation that the rebels were about to use.

---

[Krieger’s Office, FSA Assembly Building, Malchior]

Krieger smiled throughout their conversations about the past. Although Blake was his first name, he often used his middle name Olivio with friends, and anyone he was trying to win over politically.

When Graff’s face grew serious, Krieger’s became turned grave. He nodded in response to what Graff was saying.

“We’ve had some setbacks, I’ll admit,” he conceded. “Part of the problem is Klak doesn’t know what he wants. He’s off on Vonilla now trying to get the Amun Collective to join! But regardless of the errors of our members, the FSA is strong, and with someone like me as Sec Gen, we’ll be even stronger. If only the FSA didn’t play bullshit games with you so often...I know the Heyerdahl Corporation is a much better ally than those Amun nutjobs, or that lunatic Ascheron, or that sneaky bastard Gaius Malcovus.”

Krieger shook his head then leaned forward.

“The New Order is obviously a threat to all of us,” he continued. “Maybe it’s time for you to face them head on. I want the FSA to vote on officially accepting the Heyerdahl Corporation and the rest of the Ordon V corporations as official members. No more bullshit games. You all do business with all of us, and we protect each other. Also, we give blanket approval of your merger with Nanodyne across every FSA planet, space station, moon, or otherwise, no matter what the others might say. But I need something more from Ordon to sell this to the FSA delegates. And I might need your support during the vote in a few days.”

--

[Gaius Malcovus’s Office, same building]

Gaius Malcovus smiled and nodded.

“Excellent, so we have a bargain,” he declared. “I push forward a proposal to designate the FSA colony on XTR-21 as a haven world for Vykonian dissidents. No need to live in hiding. You will be able to rebuild from this “Neo Vykon” until we are able to restore the Vykonian Ascendancy, after which you transition out of XTR-21.”

“And in return,” Zuln'balec-Aerenvas replied with a slight smile. “We give the FSA a small portion of our fleet and our soldiers. We also support you in your bid for Secretary General.”

“A fair deal, I would say,” Gaius said. “But I would add one more term, a secret term.”

Gaius paused and frowned. His eyes fixed into an unblinking stare into Aerenvas’ almost-doubled pupils.

“You must assure me that you will be absolutely loyal to me from now on,” Gaius uttered, breaking the silence.

Aerenvas shifted in his chair, taken aback by this proposition. He pondered it for a few moments, then quietly swallowed.

“And you to me,” he whispered.  

Gaius nodded and grinned.

“Then it’s agreed,” he said. “We have a deal.”

--

[Undisclosed Location, Malchior]

Nadle’s eyes widened as he read the letter.

“How the hell did he get it here,” he whispered to himself in disbelief. David Robert Jones was always a resourceful one.

Nadle pinched the bridge of his nose, processing all of the information Jones had given him. First, Ross, then Bendu, then Splendor, and now, Tanari was set to vote for Ascheron. Today was full of lousy news.

And who the hell was this “Blackout”? Nadle had heard some chatter about him in various intelligence reports and dismissed him as a ghost story, but now Jones’ letter confirmed that he was real. But why couldn’t any adamah agents detect him? And was he truly the power behind Allman? Was he the true, unseen puppet master whose influence led to a war that destroyed so many lives and set in motion a series of events that led to today’s conflict?

All these things swirled in Nadle’s mind. He nonetheless tried to anchor himself to a more optimistic outlook on the universe than Jones, a nigh impossible task now that Nadle found himself in a cloak-and-dagger world in the middle of war.

Nadle stood up and summoned a holographic display. He typed a few things on it, hoping that it would notify David Robert Jones that they should meet at a secret location sometime soon and continue to share their thoughts.

--

OOS: Theme for the remainder of my post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUY2kJE0AZE

[Tanari Lower Orbit]

The ship transporting Rain halted and ejected a pod over Tanari. The pod thrusted toward the planet as it housed Rain himself.

--


[Otivyte FSA camp, Somewhere on Sojourn V…]

A canopy of fog covered the small encampment. Otivyte soldiers chatted or slept in the various tents and buildings, hoping to get some rest. Their most recent mission was a success after all, so it was well deserved.

But the Otivyte soldiers were caught by surprise. Vast swaths of Liquid Metalliconite bombers suddenly flew above the camp without warning, dropping their payload and devastating half of the base. A legion of other pirates came in on hover bikes and raided what remained. The Otivyte’s barely stood a chance, the element of surprise proving to be their downfall. The fog didn’t help things either. Only one of the Otivyte soldiers was left alive to serve as a witness, one that would tell the FSA about the attack.
The pirates took some loot, then disappeared into the fog.

Meanwhile, back on Liquid Metallicon, Fourteen approached Ozar and Keichi, who were standing on top of a balcony at the Lucky Money club.

“It’s done,” he declared to Ozar. Ozar nodded and sighed.

“Finally,” Ozar said. His face slowly became more radiant as he gazed at the neon lights throughout the city.

Akzer’s part of the plan was set in motion.

-

Meanwhile, Keichi sauntered to an elevator, where the man in jet black hair was waiting for him.

“I take it things went well?” the man, who was named Billy Song but was often called Quick Billy, asked.

“Yes. But it looks like Ozar was already preparing to strike before he even assembled us,” Keichi replied. “I don’t like that, but I suppose I’ll have to live with it for now. I just hope Ciro and Veyelan don’t screw up. Or else we’ll have to take the crew to the other side of the galaxy to avoid what’s coming.”

Quick Billy Song grunted.

“I take it you don’t want to fight the Arcs, huh,” he guessed. “I ran into Zolo after the meeting and he told me enough.”

“Of course not,” Keichi confessed. “But if we can get them to destroy Veyelan and Baze, maybe we’ll buy some more time.”

“You’ll piss off a lot of people that way,” Quick Billy warned.

“Maybe. Or maybe they’ll thank me for it once they realized how I saved their skins,” Keichi argued. He smugly grinned as he sauntered into the elevator, his First Mate Quick Billy following him.

Klak wrote:
[Moon of Vonilla]

...
-

“Son of a bitch,” Klak sighed. “It will be a war of attrition until they’ve figured out our every move, then we’re doomed. They don’t have some sort of hub? Anything we can take down that will stop them from killing everyone on here?”

Klak picked up a rifle from another fallen marine.

“There has to be some way to lead them away from the station and away from my battlecruiser,” Klak pondered. “At least until Bob and that kid take over the ship. Then I’ll be able to get aboard.”

Klak aimed his rifle around, aiming to see if any PsyTroopers were incoming.

--

<The Spirit World>

A long, dolorous sigh escaped Min-Su's lips as the masked fox spirit sips on some tea, looking into the distance as yet another small part of the spirit realm warps into a non-Euclidean distortion of its former self; chunks of floating island turn topsy-turvy, and their trees warp at the trunk so their leaves remain upright. Rivers that once ran into bottomless waterfalls into the clouds below now fall sideways, upwards, or some perverse combination of the two, as the plane slowly contorts, writhes and twists upon itself.

Every spirit and being in the spirit world knew what was going on. Turmoil and strife in the mortal world was leeching over, corrupting the dimension as conflict spread in the other. The universe was out of balance.

Min-Su, although not a leader of any sorts as a trickster spirit, was very much a powerful one, and many of the other spirits in the realm looked up to them... or at least respected them. They concerned themself primarily with cheering up other beings who had been affected by the crisis, but in recent months, things have gotten so bad as to make the kumiho anxious. They felt a need to do something, to seek to improve the situation in the spirit realm.

As the twelve-tailed fox continues to sip on their tea, there a-comes a violent shaking and rumble... followed by a blinding explosion of light that engulfs everything in sight. Min-Su's included, the voices of thousands of startled, surprised spirits echo throughout parts of the realm as the foreign force slams the dimension. As soon as the eruption begins, however, it ends. The light subsides, the shaking stops, and aside from the fox's tea set tipping over, nothing seems to have been harmed.

"Great ones, what... what was that...?" the vulpine being thought... And then it occurred to them: the mortal realm....

---------

<Moon of Vonilla>
It had taken only a few moments for the kumiho to lock onto the power signature of whoever shook up the spirit realm. Unsurprisingly, given the ongoing strife the mortal realm, it lead them right into what looked and sounded like an active raid.

The vulpine spirit materialized from the spirit realm in a rush of leaves, flowers and wind, taking on a more humanoid appearance for the occasion. Instead of the large, lithe fox, in the mortal realm there stood a tail-less being of average size, dressed in purple and green silken robes, with a finely patterned red headscarf covering what parts of their head weren't concealed by their mask with red markings. The spirit found themself on a space station, with its bland, metallic interior with pipes and conduits... It certainly made them already long for the spirit realm, but they would be back soon enough... hopefully.

They were in the right place, but now they began their search for the source of that power surge... Although, with the alarms and chaos going on outside, it doesn't seem like they have a whole lot of time. Thankfully they seemed close... really close. The spirit turned around and made their way around a corner, only to bump right into the barrel of an assault rifle.

"Oh, hello there..." the kumiho says under their mask...

[ Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven ]

Dallas laughed. “I’ve got a man on the ground right now who said the same thing, that Uteriach is alive. I guess the rumours are true after all. I wouldn’t complain at him and his son swinging from a rope, but if we’re going to do this it has to be swift. We need to get my man, Arwell, to acquire the intel he needs from Figlio. He’s a security professional, and he likely has an inkling as to where ‘Crimson King’ is being held. We fly out there, bust the big man out, throw him back into the melee that is Vongola, then kill the both of them there and then.”

Dallas pondered the plan for a long moment, smoking his cigarette to its butt.

“The Dogs aren’t ones to settle, Hercules. You’d have to set up to run this place, we wouldn’t stick around. But we will help you. The Diamond Dogs are yours, Hercules Splendor.”


[ Somewhere between Adorra and Armechius, Vongola ]

The dark landscape surrounding the Armechius suburbs was quiet but for the distant, rolling thunder of artillery. The Vongolan Rebel Front hadn’t got this close to the capital, and the long rows of housing were untouched by the ravages of the civil war. Nonetheless, from their vantage point on a bluff nearby, Arwell and Cai-Wei clad themselves in camouflage tarps, hiding their suits' heat signatures. Cai-Wei was perched atop the TIGER, a pair of long range NV binoculars raised to her eyes. Arwell, sat at the foot of the RHINO, ate from a ration tin, lost in thought.

Cai-Wei could see the long, winding train tracks that led out of the city. They’d seen a military convoy pass along the tracks some hours earlier, a long train of armoured vehicles and powered armour suits moving south to the Adorra frontline. They’d camped on the hill until the cover of darkness, now upon them in full force. Cai-Wei hadn’t seen any VPR activity in an hour.

“Time to go,” she whisper-shouted down to Arwell. The security specialist lumbered to his feet, stretching his back against the cooling night air.

“God damn I can’t wait to sleep in a five-star again,” Arwell muttered. Cai-Wei snorted and climbed into her mecha, clasped the door shut behind her. Her voice came through the radio into Arwell’s ear.

“Fuck a bed, I can’t wait to slit some VPR throats. This close to the pigs my trigger finger’s getting mighty itchy.”

“Well, cool it. I’ve got to get into that city to stand a chance of getting close to Figlio. And then you’ve got to get me back out, otherwise the Di Armechio’s will wreak bloody havoc for a long time more.”

They set off moments later, the suits running on minimal emissions, crunching as quiet as they could through the woodland that led up to the city’s perimeter.


[ Heyerdahl Corporation Headquarters, New Harpenden, Ordon V ]

Graff sighed. “I’ve been watching the broadcasts. It looks like Ascheron is gearing up to try to force the FSA’s hand into letting him run the show. I can’t let that happen Olivio; you’ll have Ordon V’s vote come the election.” He took a long swig from his rapidly cooling coffee, cursing his having forgotten the drink.

“We can gear up to start producing war aid really easy, man. It used to be that a manufacturer would have as much work making the tooling for new production as the actual production of the item itself. But now, with the printing tech we have… We can be pumping out whatever the FSA needs in the week. Obviously, you’ve got to float us, and help us in terms of tax. But Malchior has deep pockets,” Graff grinned. “You’re the richest damn democracy around. And this time the taxpayers have to see that this is necessary.”

“We can edit the VI to make it a valuable tool to soldiers, ship crew, you name it. We’ve already been running tests with a new build, it's designed to improve intelligence at the tactical level in a firefight. Pretty nice stuff, I put it through its paces myself in the wargames. Just let me know what you need, Olivio, we’re with you.”



[ Liquid Metallicon, Eastern Seaport ]

Baze Ishikawa’s ship was a classically styled luxury yacht, with long viewing windows and a sleek, chromed outer hull. The ship sat proud in the water on the Eastern Seaport, the plasteel deck that stretched out to the vessel crowded by support staff, crew and Ishikawa’s men. Ciro and her posse marched up to the gangway, Baze waving down his men, who fell in behind them. Swain stood at the gate, surrounded by the Terugans, Ciro’s dobermans sat at his feet. When the dogs saw her they practically balled Swain over running to her.

“Oh my darlings!” Ciro cooed, swapping down to pay the dogs attention. Swain stepped up to the group. He was changed, mechanical plates covering much of his skull and left side of his face. His left eye had been replaced with a milky white orb, and there was a puckered scar that ran from his crown to his brow.

“Work of this lot,” the old bosun explained, gesturing to a group of three figures off to the side. The three were spindly android forms in white cloaks, servo-arms and mechanical tentacles extending out beyond their robes. They all carried weapons, dark bulky rifles with glowing blue energy cores at their centres.

“Well, it's good to see you, um, well, darling,” Ciro said. She patted the huge man on his muscled forearm. “Let us get Baze aboard and then we can get this nasty business concluded.”

Bol piped up, scratching his head. “What is this business, mistress?”

Ciro laughed, a beautiful, trill sound. “We’re going to kill one of the Arcs of the New Order!”


[ Liquid Metallicon, Orbit ]

The Typa Gypsy fell into formation 300 kilometers off the aft of Cormorant, Baze’s yacht. Ciro sat on a throne at the helm, Swain stood behind her on one side, Drake on the other. Bol and the Terugans manned their stations on the bridge. Tarvias Deep stood in a corner, a figure that stood out no matter how much he tried to blend in. A hologram of Veyelan was projected off to one side, herself sat aboard the Stormbreaker amidst her cloaked fleet.

“You know, I’m rather looking forward to this,” Veyelan’s hologram said.

Ciro smirked. “Oh darling, it’ll be wonderful.”

The ships began their flight toward Lovian local space.

[ Battleship Pacifica, Moon of Vonilla ]

(Theme)

Explosions rocked the ship as the Malchiorian attack intensified, various consoles on the ship's bridge exploding sending Debris flying across it. Di-Jonn Massa stood up from his command throne.

"Execute emergency FTL jump for battlefield egress. Transfer PsyTrooper command codes and authorization to Arc Valorus aboard the Adriatica."

The holographic image of Arc Valorus manifested in front of Di-Jonn as the latter man made his way to leave the bridge.

"What's the meaning of this?" roared Valorus. "Execute your orders and eliminate Klak!"

"Respectfully, sir, that remains my sole intention." he replied, before speaking into a communicator in his wrist armor to address the hangar crew. "Prepare my fighter for immediate takeoff... and load N40 missiles."

--

Moments later, a sleek black fighter emerged from the hangar bay, two N40 missiles mounted under its forward-swept wings. A trio of Vonillan fighters banked round to engage it, but the fighter cut its engines, pitched upwards a full 180 so that its nose was pointing opposite its direction of travel, and neutralized them with three short bursts of its railgun, the exploding fighters' debris flaring against its shield. Di-Jonn gunned the throttle, bringing his fighter up to full speed and shooting off towards the Malchiorian battlecruiser.

Aboard the bridge of the Malchiorian ship, a new siren sounded an an officer turned to address Admiral Kamarov. "Radiological alarm! Nuclear-armed craft inbound!"

The ship's anti-aircraft fire focused on Di-Jonn's fighter as it approached, but he artfully darted around the streams of fire coming towards him, twisting and turning his fighter around in ways that would be impossible for someone not in perfect sync with his vehicle. He flew close to the hull of the battlecruiser, within the blind spot of its anti-aircraft guns as he closed in on the bridge.

"It's no good! Brace for-"

And with that, Di-Jonn's fighter flew straight over the bridge...

... and banked hard, shooting towards his real target, the station itself. He grinned within the cockpit as he activated the master arm of his N40 missiles. He could see the Agathon pulling away from the station, having retrieved its company of marines; the PsyTroopers, for whom death represented more of a learning opportunity rather than any semblance of finality, would remain aboard the station until the bitter end.

[ Vonilla Station ]

As Canaan recovered from the shock of Min-Su's sudden appearance, he noticed with increasing discomfort that the station had fallen rather quiet in the last few moments.

"They've pulled back the marines. They must be about to fire. If we don't get onboard the Adriatica in the next few minutes, everybody on board this station dies." he said, training his rifle on a nearby doorway. He rolled his head in the direction of Min-Su. "You're the second mysterious stranger who's teleported in front of me in the past fifteen minutes. I don't suppose you've got anything in your bag of tricks that can help us-"

Canaan caught the PsyTrooper out of the corner of his eye at the last possible moment, diving down towards Klak from an overhead railing, knife at the ready. He turned and fired; the PsyTrooper skillfully deflected the incoming railgun slugs with rapid motions of its armored forearms, ricocheting the projectiles into the surrounding walls and hardware. Those rounds are hitting it at three kilometers a second. It's not reacting to my shots - it already knows where they're going to land. Klak artfully dodged, levying his superhuman speed to evade the PsyTrooper's attack, but held off from pressing the offensive, knowing it would only copy his movements. The Psytrooper stood back up, drawing its knife out from the floor where Klak had previously been standing.

"Go." said Canaan, throwing his rail-gun to the ground. A pair of high-tech bladed tonfa slid down from within the sleeves of his robes, and he gripped them, their blade edges glowing white hot as he settled into a combat stance. "I'll buy you all the time I can. Stranger - I don't know who you are, or what your intentions are. But if you're an ally of peace and justice, you'll do everything you can to get Klak safely off this station. He's the last, best hope this galaxy has for peace."

The PsyTrooper turned towards Canaan, and charged. It was all Canaan could do to parry the PsyTrooper's attacks, let alone respond in kind; it pushed him backwards, back into the hallway he had first encountered Klak in. Canaan flipped backwards to buy himself some more space, and then threw one of his Tonfa towards the PsyTrooper - which, naturally, dodged it. Canaan's real target was the control panel for the door behind it, though - and the bladed tonfa cut straight through it, causing the door connecting the hallway to the room Klak and Min-Su to slam shut, sealing Canaan and the PsyTrooper off from them.

Canaan grinned. "Just you and me now, buddy."

The PsyTrooper cast a cursory glance towards the destroyed door controls, then looked back to Canaan, and charged.

<Tanari Homeworld, President’s Residence>

Even though she had been an important Senator’s assistant and was now a well-known activist and politician, flanked by the President’s security advisor to boot, Aster nevertheless thought there was something surreal about just being waved through by security into the President’s residence as they had just been, everyone taking their claims of an important meeting at face value even though nothing was on the schedule.

Accompanied by two guards, the two just strolled into Silver Eachan’s office, and was confronted with the similarly odd sight of him having what appeared to be an intense conversation with… also General Van Smoot.

“Aster!” Silver yelled. “What the fuck?”

“Well, this is awkward.” the ‘Van Smoot’ standing by Eachan’s side said.

“You imposter! You filthy communist!” the real Van Smoot said, grabbing one of the guards’ sidearms and pointing it at him. The shifter suddenly morphed into what appeared to be a bird, somehow smashed through a bulletproof window, and flew away in an unknown direction.

“As the President of the Tanari Confederation, I ask again: what the fuck?” said Silver.

“We just saved you from your own limitless capacity to embarrass yourself.” Aster smiled. “Turns out he was spying on you, waiting for you to say something incriminating about one particular, really quite silly mission. And that attack on the secret military prison, where they took the mercs? The same bunch of rogue shifter activists looking for supporting evidence. I dealt with the situation by myself, while you, with the might of the Tanari state at your disposal, didn’t even know where to start.”

“It’s true. I don’t think the situation would have gone nearly as smoothly if…” Van Smoot sighed. “If the MRF had not intervened.”

Silver Eachan was a Tanari politician in the modern era, but even so, it wasn’t very often he felt someone was pulling the rug out from under him this suddenly and this comprehensively.

“So you know it’s Tanari intelligence policy to try to get money for black ops by defrauding insurance companies. Fine. What the hell do you two want?” said a resigned-sounding Silver. “I bet you have a whole laundry list of policy demands I’ve already told you no Tanari politician could possibly grant outside of their post-election honeymoon period.”

“Oh, so many!” Aster was beaming. “But to start with, I actually have a personal one. Tell me about Blackout.”

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

One of Julio’s shots missed, but two others hit a spot on Kane’s shoulder, setting it on fire, interfering with his vision. As the exosuit attempted, rather awkwardly, to put out the fire, Kane fired several missiles in the vague direction of Julio, hoping they would lock onto the target.

---

Those troopers who were not on top of the cannon ran to line up in front of it, putting themselves between it and the VPR charge. Simultaneously, they all fired their kinetic cannons at the incoming troopers.

Meanwhile, the artillery installation’s barrel itself slowly and unsteadily rotated somewhat to face another one of the cannons. It shook as they did so, reminding the exosuited rebels they needed to make every shot count as the installation might not hold out long. They fired twice at the other cannon, while one of them sent out a radio transmission requesting assistance. Within seconds, two bombers appeared in the sky above, and dropped their payload on yet another one of the cannons.

-----

<Malchior, David Robert Jones’ Office>

David Robert Jones did, indeed, receive the message via his own holographic display, which was identical to Nadle’s. Not having anything important on his agenda any time soon, he headed towards the secret location at the speed of plot.

-----

<Tanari Homeworld, Orbital Traffic Control HQ>

“Someone just dropping out of FTL and dumping their trash here?” Colonel Anna Luxon, who was looking at the satellite footage of the ship ejecting the pod containing Rain, said. She turned to a junior comms officer standing behind a console next to her. “Tell Squadron H-1 to bring that ship in. I’m not having this shit. It’s illegal. And just plain rude.”

The officer sent a message via her console. Immediately, around a dozen heavy fighters changed course and headed straight for the ship. “H-1 acknowledges. What about the pod?”

“Keep scanning.” Luxon ordered. “If it’s radioactive or it’s headed for a populated area, tell the planetary defence to shoot it down. If not, just file a report or somewhere, it doesn’t matter as much as the principle. I swear to god, these trashmongers…”

[ Planet Poznań, Federal Republic of Wojtek ]

Gabriel Ascheron sipped away at a glass of wine as, across the table from him, Prime Minister Golec considered his proposal with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Give it all the time you need." offered Ascheron, as servants entered the dining hall of the prime-ministerial residence and cleared away the remnants of the meal the two had enjoyed. He took another sip.

"No, I have made up my mind. I'm sorry, Ascheron. I do appreciate the role your kingdom has played in helping my people get back on their feet since they regained their independence, but I cannot forget that it was the AKD that took that independence from them in the first place. I cannot forget the atrocities your forefathers perpetrated against our people for two hundred years. I am pleased that our two nations can consider ourselves allies, but there is a great deal more to be done before we can call ourselves friends, and even more before I can, in good faith, give you my vote for Secretary-General."

"The actions of my forefathers were inexcusable, Prime Minister Golec. But I can't turn back the clock. All I can do is what's right here and now." he said, imbibing further. "You were telling me that, even now, your mother is still afraid to go to Sunday Mass, because she still thinks Lurian secret police might burst in and detain her for her religion?"

"That's correct."

"Halfway across the galaxy, Sefer Yetzirah is waging a war that, if she wins, will see religion wiped out entirely. My forefathers were wrong to try and destroy the unique cultures of the worlds we encountered, but the reality is we never had the means to ever complete that task - not fully. Not completely." he said, setting his wine glass down on the table. "Sefer does. If she wins, she will. No gods, no kings, only her. And I'm the only one in this race who's taking that threat seriously."

"My culture wasn't the only one your forefathers attempted to destroy." retorted Golec. "Your own culture has been warped beyond recognition by the jingoistic fervor they instilled within it. Your people hate democracy, and they've been taught to hate it for three-hundred years. Do you seriously expect that a single speech, regardless of how motivating or competent, will suddenly convert them to the belief that democracy is now the path forwards for the galaxy?"

Gabriel smirked. "I have some expectation that it will."

"Then I wish you the best of luck, Gabriel Ascheron. But for now, my answer remains unchanged.

Hours later, Gabriel was escorted out of the prime-ministerial residence to a waiting motorcade outside, ready to take him back to the spaceport. Ascheron shook the prime-minister's hand, exchanged pleasantries with some of the other gathered senior government figures, and then climbed into the limousine. And then the limousine exploded, and Gabriel Ascheron died.

---

[ Ascheron Kingdom Demesnes ]

"My father was murdered by Monarchist traitors, who sought to pervert the course of our great nation away from the gleaming destiny He was leading it towards."

Broadcast from the balcony of the Imperial Palace on Aerisgard, Evangelise Ascheron's words were heard across the AKD. And already, the purge was underway.

"A small subsection of the AKD's elite conspired against Him, plotting to retain their iron grip over their positions and their power, fearful of the indomitable spirit of the Lurian people which He was set to unleash."

Across Luria, angry mobs stormed high-rise buildings, dragging investors and businessmen from their offices and introducing them to the hundred-meter freefalls outside their windows. Police officers dragged their chief commissioners out of their stations and offered them up to the ravenous masses beyond, some even joining in with the violence.

"This intelligentsia that enjoyed so much favor and power under my Father is frightened by the potential of democracy. These sad traitors have no love for our country and its people!"

On Ioturnot, Lurian officers fighting as part of the FSA contingent suddenly turned to see their men training their rifles not on the New Order soldiers, but on the officers themselves, gunning them down. In the occupied Republic of Geihmurs, Lurian peacekeepers set fire to the offices of the political police, freed prisoners and detainees en masse, and joined in the celebrations with the native population as the colonial governor's residence was bombed from on high by orbiting ships.

"My Father loved democracy with all His heart, and died believing it was time for the Lurian people to master their own destiny! We must do nothing less than continue His dying wish! The patriotic Lurian people love democracy too, and it is time for their voice to be heard!"

The central university of Aerisgard exploded in a white-hot blaze as student protesters wearing blue armbands cheered around it, traitorous political lecturers shackled in chains and forced to watch. In the skies above Aerisgard, transports carrying fleeing members of Ascheron's inner circle were intercepted and destroyed by fighter squadrons loyal to the new movement, a single blue stripe painted across their right wings.

"We will take our place as the rightful leaders of the FSA! We will not shirk the responsibility entrusted to us by my Father! I will take His place, with great humility, and together we will bring peace and prosperity to Luria and to the galaxy at large. We will never surrender! Sieg Luria! Sieg Ascheron! Sieg Galaxis!"

Evangelise offered a roman salute which was repeated in kind by the thousands of citizens who had gathered in front of the Imperial Palace to hear her speak, each one wearing a blue armband (or some approximation of one) just as Evangelise was. The response was rapturous; ten hundred thousand voices crying out in unison across every world of the AKD: "Sieg Galaxis, Sieg Galaxis, Sieg Galaxis."

Ascheron retreated from the balcony to the study itself, sliding the doors closed behind her, and smirked. God, those people will buy anything you sell them.

"My lord." came the voice of Samuel Malcyar, a grovelling sycophant well aware that any pre-existing loyalty to Gabriel Ascheron now counted for precisely nothing. "The purge was a stunning success."

"Since when were you under the impression..." replied Evangelise, her features warping, her frame and clothes shifting and transforming, "...that the purge was over?"

Gabriel Ascheron now stood where Evangelise had. Malcyar fell to his knees.

"Forgive me, my lord."

Ascheron ignored him, and looked to his right hand, flexing his fingers. The body of Gabriel Ascheron had died on Poznań, but his soul had been immediately transported into the body of a captured shapeshifter here on Luria, who had been snatched away from the chaos of Tanar for just such a purpose. As useful as this body and its powers were - and as essential as they would prove in allowing Ascheron to continue ruling over his empire from 'beyond the grave' - being forced to inhabit a xenos body filled him with equal measures of disgust and discomfort. It was Malcyar's technology and research that had allowed Ascheron to survive past death in this fashion, at it was for that reason alone that Ascheron had granted the scientist a stay of execution.

And now, with the last vestiges of the old anti-democratic order burned away, Ascheron's path to the leadership of the FSA became even clearer.

"There is one more loose end to be addressed." said Ascheron, making his way through the doors at the other end of his study to the meeting room beyond, Malcyar following closely behind. Within the meeting room, various bounty hunters were gathered. Notable were Ra'an Dempsey, legendary swordsman of the now-defunct Assassins Sans Frontières, and Lucy Farr, who Ascheron recognized with some discomfort as the younger sibling of Malak Al-Maut. Yet Ascheron's attention was, for some unknown reason, drawn to an attractive, strongly-built man dressed in a simple white cassock. An agent of Espiritu Santo, a secretive monastic organization that had brokered an alliance of convenience with Ascheron in pursuit of the defeat of the Sefer Yetzirah.

"I will make this simple. There exists, in the employ of the Diamond Dogs mercenary organization, a clone of our new Emperor, Evangelise Ascheron. I will not detail the circumstances by which this clone came to exist, but unfortunately it has been conditioned to believe it is the real Evangelise Ascheron." said Gabriel, who found his new shape-shifting abilities supremely useful in maintaining a straight face whilst spouting such fiction. Still, it served his purposes; it wouldn't do to have the real Evangelise Ascheron running around and exposing him as a fraud. "It must be terminated."

"What's the reward?" replied Dempsey, stroking his chin.

"The gratitude of the future leader of the FSA." retorted Ascheron, dismissively. "Which translates to whatever financial, logistic or legal resources you may require at any point in the future."

"You do realize you're asking us to go up against Dallas Dalton." retorted Lucy, resting a hand on the katana and wakizashi sheathed across her right hip. "I don't know that anyone here has a death wish."

"Which is why I'm speaking to a gathered group of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy, and not to some meager Lurian assassination taskforce."

The Espiritu Santo agent spoke, and in doing so, sent the rest of the room into a stunned silence. "I will take the contract. Alone."

Ascheron stepped up to the man, an amused expression upon his face. "Alone? And why do you have such confidence that you'll be able to accomplish this undertaking alone?"

"Because," replied Shepard, turning his gaze to match Ascheron's, "I know that my redeemer lives."

---

[ Battleship Andromeda, Lovian System ]

Arc Vekhta awoke from her meditation in a panic.

She stormed on to the bridge, taking the crew by surprise, who rushed to salute her. She ignored them, and made her way over a long-range navigation console, looming over the officer present.

"A-Arc Vekhta?" replied the Officer, pulling away from her. "Is there something I can help you with, my lord?"

Arc Vekhta pointed to a trio of green dots on his long-range map.

"What are those ships?"

"Unknown. Likely commercial or private transports heading out from Liquid-Metallicon. They aren't directly approaching the fleet." he said, tapping away at the controls to zoom in on them. "It's not uncommon for such ships to pass through the Lovian system on their way to the core systems. "

By now, Captain Garland had arrived at the bridge and made his way to Vekhta, saluting. "Arc Vekhta, is something the matter?"

Arc Vekhta bit her lip, staring at the the green blips on the long-range display. She had felt the arrival of those ships within the depths of her meditation; the lead ship, the Cormorant, shattering her focus like a vast predatory bird suddenly swooping in and blotting out the sun with its shadow.

Wait, why did I know the lead ship was called the Cormorant?

"Arc Vekhta?" asked Garland again. Beads of sweat dripped down Lena's face.

Him.

"Conduct a tight-band radiological scan of the lead vessel." ordered Vekhta, and the officer manning the console complied. Moments later, a response flashed up on his screen.

"Response confirmed: lead ship has nuclear weapons onboard."

"Set condition two throughout the fleet!" barked Captain Garland, returning to his command chair. The bridge crew flung into action like a well-oiled machine, klaxons sounding throughout the Andromeda. "All ships, maintain defensive posturing from incoming vessels. Bring railguns to pre-fire status and acquire firing solutions for long-range missiles"

"Captain - battleship Antares has its core railgun at standby charge. Requesting orders."

"Arc Vekhta?" asked Captain Garland, immediately passing the question up to Vekhta.

"Do not fire unless those ships cross the boundary into standard engagement range." replied Vekhta, the bridge officer feeding her response to the Antares. "Captain Garland, you have the bridge. I'm going over to that vessel."

"I'll prepare a boarding team, Arc."

"No need." replied Vekhta. "I'll deal with this myself."

[Moon of Vonilla]

Klak jumped in surprise and pulled away the gun.

“Gah,” he gasped, staring at the kumiho. “Citizen, I almost shot you.”

Canaan spoke to Min-Su, then challenged the PsyTrooper. The door connecting the hallway to the room Klak and Min-Su to slam shut, sealing Canaan and the PsyTrooper off from them.

“NO!” Klak shouted, slamming his fist into the door. He turned around to Min-Su, cradling the rifle in his hand. Min-Su could see purple streaks of light flash throughout Klak’s veins as he gritted his teeth. Klak sighed, and the streaks disappeared. He looked into Min-Su’s eyes.

“Whoever you are, stranger,” Klak said to them in a slightly altered voice. “You should take cover. I need to get aboard the Adriatica, but if my friends haven’t finished taking over the ship, they’re going to fire on this station and kill everyone on it. Unless Canaan’s guess is right, and you’ve got some tricks that can help us.”

Klak’s hands began to twitch. He raised his hands up again, and a portal slowly began to open.

-

“SOMEONE STOP THAT FIGHTER!” Admiral Kamarov shouted. The Malchiorian battlecruiser’s guns began firing at Di-Jonn’s ship, but to no avail.
-

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

Two Takemikazuchi crewmen suddenly showed up in the halls. Bob glanced at Willow.

“Like I said, your choice,” he whispered. “Melee, or going all out. We can blitz up to the bridge, but it won’t be easy.”

--

[Tanari Homeworld, Lower Orbit]

Rain glanced at a display and noted that a squadron of heavy fighters were headed for the ship. He flipped a switch, firing flares in an attempt to distract them from going after the main ship. He flipped another switch to activate stronger shields in case any of those ships--or something else for that matter--would try to incinerate him before he could reach the planet’s surface.

--

[Emergency Meeting of Interplanetary Security Council, Presidential Estate, Malchior]

A group of generals and Vell administration figures sat around a large table. Some of them, like Nadle, called in through holograms. The Vice President of Malchior sat at the head of the table. Holographic maps, images, and reports fluttered across a display screen at the center of the table.

The Presidential Estate’s personnel were in a frenzy. First, the news about Bendu. Then, the crisis on Vonilla’s moon, and now the crash above Malchior.

“Sir,” General Custoeux said. “Our fleet is ready on standby, ready to arrive at the Moon of Vonilla if need be. We are awaiting signal from Klak and Admiral Kamarov.”

“They better arrive at a moments notice,” Weir warned. “Or there might not be much to save. Also, do we have any intel that the attacks are related?” Vice President Merlyn Weir asked.

“None,” General Crangler replied. “We are ready to call the crash an accident, despite some sightings of a man on top of a ship. Our intel seems to indicate it’s just a space mirage.”

“Fair,” Weir acknowledged. “How many casualties?”

“The crews of both ships, roughly 400 from that alone,” Secretary of Spacial Disaster Response Fatima Ayad answered. “The remaining debris landed on Fhirn, a village in the Cuthert region. Roughly 10 dead, 100 injured. Regional authorities have launched response mechanisms with our support.”

“It’s a miracle our fighters and those Xazari ships were able to destroy much of the debris, otherwise we’d be looking at a higher number,” Weir replied. “President Vell or I will have to call them to thank them.”

“Yes, sir,” Emily nodded.

“Alright, what else?” Weir continued.

“We’ve just received word that Gabriel Ascheron has been killed,” an intelligence officer lamented.

Vice President Weir’s eyes widened.

“When?” he gulped. Although he never liked Ascheron, he knew the Lurian was a strategic ally.

“Just now, Mr. Vice President.” the intelligence officer continued. “We believe Evangelise Ascheron has taken power, and will likely begin purges soon.”

“Damn,” Weir grunted. “That complicates things even further. I don’t want anyone from the AKD gaining the title of Secretary General, and I know President Vell would agree. At the same time, with the news on Bendu, we need to make sure the AKD will stay as a part of the FSA.”

None of them were aware of Ascheron’s ruse.

The briefing continued for a while longer as various intelligence and military officers presented information on various battles, operations, and initiatives that were part of the Malchiorian war effort. Nadle shut off his hologram once the meeting ended, and continued driving to his secret meeting point with David Robert Jones.

-

[A Park on Malchior]

Nadle parked his car and surveyed his surroundings. Once he realized he wasn’t being watched, he pulled up the hood of his jacket in an attempt to further conceal his identity. Nadle then stepped out and made his way to a park bench that looked over an opal lake. David Robert Jones was already sitting at the other end of the bench.

“Good to see you, David,” Nadle muttered, staring at the vast lake. “We have much to discuss.”

-

[Krieger's Office, FSA General Assembly, Malchior]

“That’s wonderful to hear, Graff,” Krieger marvelled. “Our people will reach out with more specifics on what we need soon. But now with your commitment we can push Ordon’s membership a lot quicker. And I think I can get plenty of planets to commit financially to purchasing from Heyerdahl, not just Malchior. No promises, but I believe it would be more than enough for an FSA-wide purchase. How does that sound?”

--

[Battleship Vengeance, Vykon System]

Arc Zyandar hesitated, then realized how she could kill two birds with one stone.

“Perhaps we can take on the both of them?” she posited. “I pursue Veyelan, and you can pursue Aerenvas. We are bound to destroy at least one of the two.” And I can get you off my back, you dodgy bastard, she thought to herself. “Sound fair?”

Caiaphus put a finger to his chin, then nodded.

“Sounds fair,” Caiaphus affirmed. “But it will take a while to track him. In the meantime, my ship will travel alongside yours.”

Zyandar cursed in her mind.

“Very well, Arc Caiaphus,” she replied, forcing a smile.

The two Arcs left the room and made their way to the bridge to take transports to their respective battleships.

--

[Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven]

Hercules nodded, smiling for the first time in a while.

“A fair deal,” he replied. He dragged his cigarette. “Oh, and one more thing. Ross Palermo sacrificed his life for what I am about to tell you. It’s information that only a handful of people on our side of the Veras Wall know, and I suspect the Lurians will probably know it by the end of the day.”

Hercules dragged his cigarette again as Dallas waited patiently.

“Sefer Yetzirah, the mad emperor herself, is building something on Bendu,” Hercules revealed. “None of us know what it is. But it is something worth killing Long Shortman and Ross over. Make of that what you will. I suspect the rest of the FSA will know soon, and once the lagran’s out of the sack you’ll have job offers from here ‘til the other side Sundowner. Either way, we must destroy it.”

Meanwhile, Hercules’s holographic communicator buzzed with the notification regarding Ascheron. Hercules didn’t read it right then and there, but he would find out soon enough.

-

[City limits of Armechius, Vongola]

Suddenly, an air chariot carrying Figlio and two K’thaan guards (one male, one female) flew to the edge of the city near the woodlands. The chariot landed, and Figlio stepped out, clad in his signature pink armor.

“He’d better arrive soon,” Figlio remarked to the K’thaania guard, unaware of Arwen’s proximity. “I have an important call coming up.” He placed his hand on the handle of a sword that was neatly sheathed in its scabbard.

-

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

Julio darted away from the missiles as fast as he could. Two of them burst upon hitting the ground, dirt and shrapnel flying everywhere. The K’thaanic commander spun around a crashed space fighter, successfully getting one of the missiles to slam into the debris. But Julio was not as fortunate for the two that remained. One blasted the ground underneath him, sending shockwaves that knocked him into the air. The other directly hit his armor, flinging him back down.

Julio coughed and looked at his torso. He was missing a limb and a good half of his chestplate. He cursed in K’thaanit.

-

The VPR troopers screamed as the kinetic cannons destroyed them.

Between the bombers, the rebels’ artillery barrages, and the actions of the mysterious squadron, the VPR lost five artillery installations. Only three remained scattered in a sector to the north of the city of Sards. The personnel at one of these installations targeted the rebels artillery and began charging the cannons.

Suddenly, a series of fighters darted out of the sky and began to pursue the rebel bombers, firing upon them.

Meanwhile, another one of the artillery cannons targeted a platoon of rebels stranded on a street not too far from Sards’ southern edge.

--

[Location of Lurian soldiers, Iotunort]

A group of Malchiorian soldiers rushed to the Lurians in shock. They aimed their weapons at the Lurians.

“Put your weapons down!” one of them yelled. “Why the hell did you shoot at your own men?”

[ Malchior, Malchior System ]

The same kind of luxury shuttle that brought the Xazari representatives to the New Order ship with the other delegates also did the same here, the elegant craft gracefully gliding onto the designated landing spot where they would be ferried to meet with Secretary of State Russello and his own representatives.

After the craft had lowered itself gently via use of its anti-gravity systems, Brianna D'Argent, the Xazari representative for the coming meeting would step out, the woman's figure humanoid yet with soft, rodent-like features and long whip-like tail as she belongs to the Faestir, a race of rodent-like people who claim the Xazari nation as their home.

She would be sandwiched by the diplomatic guards provided by the Schorl Corporation, their pure-white armour shining brightly in the Malchiorian sun as they professionally escorted the delegation. Behind Brianna would follow her aides, about three in total, as they awaited the arrival of their FSA counterparts, or those who would bring them to said counterparts.

-------

[ Battleship Mercurus, Diplomatic Meeting Point, Hokka System ]

"I humbly accept your welcome, honoured delegates." Envoy Kurokawa replied to Representative Sano's greetings, the gryphon beside him nodding along tersely, as the Xazari delegates filed into the conference room, the Xazari honour guards respectfully hanging back outside the room door.

As Sano gave his introductory spiel, Kurokawa Kohei merely seemed thoughtful as he gave his attention, while Executive Ardogan nodded along and seemed to be jotting down some key points on his everpresent holo tablet.

"An interesting approach indeed, Representative Sano. And one it seems that your leader is certain will be the best approach to her charges. I can respect that." Kohei responds a beat after Sano has concluded his piece. "Though unfortunately, not one that may be as compatible with the Xazari as she might think."

"As you know, the Xazari has prospered thus far by being one of the premier hubs of interstellar trade withing the galaxy. Our symbiosis with the private business world, the corporations, ventures, merchants and such, allow us to have a substantial manufacturing and industrial base that is backed by an unmatched economy." Representative Kurokawa elaborates, his voice soft-spoken but firm and warm. "Even if our military may not be as large or powerful as some of the other nations, we have flourished in relative peace due to being a neutral ground of trade, serving friends and foe alike and tying ourselves to their economy."

"How we arrived at that pinnacle, however, is through one simple principle: Free trade. It is by that principle that drove our nation, our companies, our people, forward. Make no mistake, we know about the reverse engineering of technology from our corporations, in fact, we welcome it." Kohei saunters over to the projection of the Lurian Navy gunship, the copy of the Kurokawa Keiretsu's own design. "This design, the Furaribi gunship, was taken and engineered by the Lurians for their own use and they did so without permission, yes, but it was not a moment later that the Kurokawa Keiretsu obtained their blueprints for it, their schematics, and you know what our engineers found? Improvements. Though the Lurian variant is lacking in many areas, their engineers have improved upon some others as well, things that the original designers of the Furaribi would never had imagined. When the Kurokawa Keiretsu took those developments and further upgraded the Furaribi with it, it quickly became one of the most highly-regarded gunships for the market, new models of the line commanding attention even decades after its debut."

"So you see, that is why I believe there may be quite some disagreements on Sefer's proposal from the Xazari. The instability, the unpredicatability of the markets, and yes, even the cutthroat competition within our business sectors, that is what allowed us such rapid growth. Standing for ten-thousand years, devoid of challenges. It would make one complacent, lazy. It would be the death of innovation and progress. Stagnancy." Envory Kurokawa finished, as he gazed at the New Order reperesentative to gauge their responses, partilcularly at the Arcs. "Even the greatest warrior will find his blade dulled from inactivity. As it is in the battlefield, so it is in the markets."

-------

[Somewhere on the planet Iotunort]

There was a loud resounding 'clang' and heaps of snow thrown about as the ship landed somewhere in the remote snow landscape of Iotunort. Though to call it 'landing' would be as accurate as calling the craft a 'ship', that is to say, both words would barely qualify. With the main hull 'donated' by various corvettes and transports, a cockpit compartment from a heavy fighter, wings from some type of unidentifiable light warship, and an overall design harking back to its origins of being welded together in a cheap drydock hidden deep within an asteroid, it is a miracle that the craft is able to fly as effectively as it does, and even more of a miracle that it managed to 'land', or rather crash gently, without spontaneously combusting into a giant fireball.

"Nailed it." The lone occupant and pilot of the craft, a rodent-like faestir, cheered. Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing in her book.

[ Heyerdahl Corporation Headquarters, New Harpenden, Ordon V ]

Graff nodded his affirmation at Kreiger. “Perfect as always. It was great to chat Olivio. My people will be in touch.”

He closed the comm link, and sat for a moment in the now silent board room. He churned over the deal in his mind. Graff was committing everything to the FSA, but he was never one to do things by halves; Ordon V was proof of that. Still, the New Order genuinely made him uneasy; the level of power they had attained so quickly was enough to put the fright on even him.

He sighed, shaking his head. He opened a comm link to his PA. “Pavinder, call the Xazari office in New Harpenden. I’d better meet with them. And mobilise the assets we’ve got throughout the Malchior sector.”


[ City limits of Armechius, Vongola ]

“What the fuck was that!?” Cai-Wei yelped over the radio.

“I don’t know, VPR patrol? We’d better check it out in case they spot us. Shit!” Arwell spat.

The two mecha turned, loping back through the trees 200 or so meters to their southeast. The clearing ahead was lit by the wan light of a half moon above. The suit’s night vision cameras had no trouble discerning the shape of a VPR chariot and the three figures milling about by it.

“You reckon they have a mechanical problem?” Cai-Wei whispered over the commlink. Arwell couldn't help but smile at that - no one could hear them, it was purely reflexive.

“No, they’re not attempting repairs. They’re just fucking... waiting?” Arwell increased the magnification on the camera to maximum. The grainy image took a moment to stabilise, but when it did, Arwell swore.

“FUCK! That’s Figlio!”

“No fucking chance - shit! It is! It’s got to be a clone?!” Cai-Wai began to raise her beam rifle, taking aim at the chariot.

“Wait! Wait, if it’s him that makes my job a hell of a lot easier. Fuck.” Arwell thumbed a button on the controls, the mech’s inertial dampeners going into their most active mode. He crept forward, making as little noise as possible despite the suit’s 2 tonne frame. The figure that looked like Figlio looked toward him, and then turned away, saying something to his guards. As his back was turned, Arwell climbed from the mech, pulling a pistol from a holster on the door.

“What the fuck are you doing!? We can kill him right now!” Cai-Wei hissed through his earpiece.

Arwell ignored her, instead raising the pistol and striding forward through the underbrush.

“Figlio Di Armechio! We need to talk!”



[ Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven ]

Dallas smirked at Hercules' reveal. “Bendu… do you know what's on Bendu Hercules?” Dallas said, standing and walking to the large window that showed the swirling weather patterns of Vongola below them. When Hercules' answer wasn’t forthcoming, Dallas continued.

“Bendu is a dead world, and has been for millennia. Legend has it that the Lithans once held it; or, rather, a Lithan held it. His name was Certus Quartz Arc Blair, and he was the Lithan Empire’s greatest traitor. He was among the earliest “Excellent’s One”. He became entangled with a being known only as Kanos Jai, and Kanos Jai led Arc Blair down a dark path, one that gave answers to many of his unanswerable questions.

Arc Blair overthrew the Lithan Empire, and millions died. In a battle at the centre of the galaxy, the emperor of the Lithans, Luster Amazing Fortune, banished Blair from this reality.” Dallas drew on his cigarette, letting the silence linger like the smoke in the room.

“If Sefer is building something on Bendu, well, then it is very grave news for humanity indeed. It is the home of traitors, those who would sell their own species into ruin. And yes, we must destroy it. ”


[ Lovian System ]

Aboard Herald, Arc Zabaton roared fury. “That witch seeks to undermine my right as Warchief! That ship is my quarry. Ready the fighters; the prey shall yet be mine!”

As the Akkar crew began bustling away with their orders, three splinter shaped vessels detached themselves from the belly of Herald, coming away like ablative splinters of the dark rock. Drive flames ignited, propelling the jagged fighter craft toward the edge of the system at an astonishing acceleration.


Ciro smiled as the New Order fleet began changing position, various vessels changing heading to track the Cormorant. The sensor suite aboard the Gypsy was top of the range, the best commercial package money could buy - but it wasn’t sensitive enough to detect the three Akkar fighters speeding toward them, or the single starfighter that was Arc Vekhta’s.

“Stay Course! We’re the Cormorant’s escort, remember.” And Veyelan better do her part, Ciro thought.  

“Mistress, permission to board the Cormorant?” Drake’s gravelly voice came from over Ciro’s shoulder. The request took her by surprise.

“Why should you want to do that, Drake?”

“I do not trust Ishikawa, and nor do I trust anyone else to do the job that must be done,” Drake said quietly, casting a sideways glance to the hologram of Veyelan’s hologram.

“Very well. But be careful.”

Drake snapped a sharp salute before marching from the bridge, clasping his helmet onto his armour and heading for the hangar. Moments later, his shuttle emerged from the Gypsy, powering forward hard to catch up with the Cormorant, whose small hangar bay was open in anticipation of his arrival.

<Tanari Homeworld, President’s Residence>

Silver Eachan glared angrily at Van Smoot. “Ernest, what the fuck did you tell her?”

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Van Smoot said honestly, as he handed the sidearm he had taken off the guard back to her.

“He didn’t need to tell me anything,” said Aster.

“So, you have seen him then.” Silver reasoned. It was never plausible for the secret to remain solely within their small circle, and a politician, even a shifter, could hopefully be reasoned with. “Very well. But this information does not leave this room.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.”

“On the contrary, Aster, I know you will have to." Silver sat back down behind his desk. He pressed a button on his desk, and a butler immediately arrived holding a plate of drinks, handing them out to the three of them. Van Smoot took his happily, while Aster politely refused. The President then clasped his hands, and began explaining.

-----

<A Park on Malchior>

Jones, who was dressed in an old-fashioned Tanari suit and bowler hat, smiled at his old friend. "Yes, we do. I suspect you will want to start with what I told you about Blackout."

Before Nadle could interrupt, Jones turned back to the lake and continued. "We know very little about Blackout. As far as its origin is concerned, we believe it is part of, or was created by a species called the Voids. After a great war, the Voids were sealed away in a parallel dimension many millennia ago, to keep the universe safe from their evil. Or so the few ancient texts we have found claim, anyway."

Jones stood up, walked over to the lake, took some bread out of his bag and fed it to some ducks before returning to his story. “Blackout was one of them, or a creation of theirs. We don’t know enough about them to know, and thanks to Gabriel Ascheron, we never shall. Remember that mysterious explosion in space during the Battle of Tanari Prime, that took out several Malchiorian battlecruisers? Tanari intelligence believes Allman, or Blackout, tried to open a portal to free the Voids using the Keys to Silence, the artefacts used to seal them away in the first place, but Ascheron, who an addled Allman had given one of the Keys to, must have interfered with the process, causing a feedback loop that would have reverberated through the dimension and wiped out the Voids. Or so I’ve been told, anyway.”

He sat back down next to Nadle, and adjusted his hat slightly. “Either way, Blackout was there as a failsafe, a way to ensure the Voids’ liberation. And now, his purpose in life is gone, his civilisation gone right before his eyes. What do you think that would do to someone? And he is still at large, possibly manipulating others to do his bidding. Now, as for why the Tanari establishment do not reveal this information: first of all, we don’t know for sure. What I just told you is uncertain, based on fragments of information. Why scare people? Second of all, and this is my personal opinion, the Tanari need to come to terms with the suffering they inflicted on the galaxy and themselves during Allmanism. It would not help this process, or any of us, I think, if they came to see themselves as the victims of manipulation by some mysterious outsider.”

“I apologise, my friend. I think I have kept this secret for too long, and it may now be dangerous for you, at least, not to know the truth. What else do we need to talk about?”

-----

<Tanari Prime, Richard’s Former Hideout>

Richard’s mind wandered, the images becoming gradually clearer. He cycled through images of himself being attacked by Tanari police as a young man, being repeatedly turned away from voting stations, and all sorts of other humiliations. He thought back to meeting Aster, and them both going to work for David Robert Jones, that peculiar, secretive conservative who didn’t seem to have much interest in actually-existing conservatism. He remembered their exile to Malchior, meeting Klak, Nadle, and many others, their subsequent return to Tanari Prime, the fall of Allman, and the rise and subsequent stalling of the MRF. And of course, the story ended at Aster shooting him.

The cycle repeated over and over again, his brain always somehow lingering on the experience of being shot for slightly longer every time. And then, suddenly, the cycle ended, and Richard awoke, his body seemingly healed and Blackout standing over him.

“Hello, friend.” Blackout said calmly. “I thought for a second there you wouldn’t make it.”

Richard awkwardly sat up on the concrete, taking his time as he did so as he still felt sore all over and he had no way of telling to what extent he’d, apparently, healed. “Who… who are you? What happened? Where is everyone?”

“They’ve abandoned you. Your oldest friend almost killed you.” Blackout said. “My name is Blackout, and I am but a good citizen.”

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

As Kane’s vision cleared, he recognised he was in a very good position. His exosuit was damaged in several places, but Julio was in a very bad way indeed. He marched towards the wounded K’thaan, wondering if it would be better to take him prisoner and execute him in front of an audience, or to just finish him off there and then.


“Woo-hoo! That’s how VRR plays!” one of the soldiers yelled in joy.

The soldiers repositioned the artillery again, aiming at the remaining cannons. It wobbled worryingly again, and they had to hang onto various bits and pieces so as to not be thrown off. They fired another volley at the three remaining cannons, and then jumped off as the remaining wheel finally caved in, causing the cannon to collapse.


One of the bombers was hit, and crashed in a largely empty sector of the city. The other took evasive maneuvers, and its tail gunners opened fire on the fighters, filling the air with plasma bolts.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit>

The squadron split, with two fighters breaking off to investigate the flares. They sent radio messages to the pod, to see if there was a pilot or AI in control and if they were willing to respond.

-----

[ Cormorant, Lovian System ]

Arc Vekhta stepped out of the cockpit of her fighter, the blade of Avalon ready and ignited in her right hand.

Something was wrong; even a pleasure yacht such as the Cormorant would ordinarily maintain a small personnel presence in the hangar during standard operations, but not a single crewman was in sight. The shuttle parked across from her fighter had only recently arrived, too, judging by the heat shimmer that still radiated from its engine nozzles.

This was a trap; the only question was why. Vekhta had felt a presence onboard this ship; a presence she couldn't quite put a name to, but one that clawed away at her like something from a half-remembered dream. She stepped into the main hallway leading away from the hangar, blade at the ready, and made her way towards the bridge.

---

[ Moon of Vonilla ]

Anti-aircraft fire swept past Di-Jonn's ship, forcing him to break off his attack. He roared in anger, pulling around and turning back towards the Malchiorian battleship.

"Then I guess I will have to deal with you!" he remarked, as he closed in, loosing the two N40 missiles under his wings directly towards the bridge of the ship...

---

[ Battleship Adriatica ]

A concerned look took hold of Arc Valorus's face as he watched Di-Jonn maneuver throughout the fields of fire emanating from the Malchiorian battlecruiser. His train of thought was interrupted by an alert offered up by the bridge's chief weapons officer.

"Railgun at full charge in 60 seconds, sir."

Arc Valorus grinned. The battle was rapidly drawing towards a conclusion, and with Klak soon to be dead, he would no doubt enjoy the full favor of the Emperor herself.

---

[ Ioturnot ]

The Lurian soldiers trained their rifles on the Malchiorians.

"How dare you point your weapons at us, traitors!" roared one of the soldiers. "You have no right to involve yourself with the internal affairs of the Lurian people!"

"Everybody, let's take it down a notch." interrupted a Lurian NCO, cradling a machinegun under one arm, gesturing for everyone to lower their rifles with the other. "It's important, more now than ever, to remember who the true enemies are. To answer your questions," he said, turning to address the Malchiorian soldiers, "Emperor Gabriel Ascheron is dead, having been murdered by a monarchist conspiracy within the AKD. In relation, we've executed a supreme directive to neutralize all designated monarchist elements within the military. The military chain of command has now been restructured and power transferred to Emperor Evangelise on Aerisgard. For you and I, it's business as usual."

He rolled the body of an executed Lurian officer over onto her back with his foot.

"For her? Not so much."

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]
With a wicked grin, Willow summons up a series of glyphs, before finalizing the spell, she replies.

"Dropping a zone of silence on them. No screams, no gunfire. Take them out how you wish."

Once the trying of glyphs finalize, an eerie quiet drops in the area. No sound could penetrate or escape it. That taken care of, her hand catches fire as the guards round the corner, lobbing the bolt of fire into the one on the left's chest

[[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

Bob smiled.

“That’s a hell of a strategy,” he lauded.

Bob charged up to guard on the right and fired his runic pistol at him.

-

[Moon of Vonilla]

The N40 missiles darted towards the Malchiorian battlecruiser. One immediately collided with the ship’s energy shields, obliterating that line of defense. The other missile head straight for the bridge.

Admiral Kamarov muttered a silent prayer. Some of the Malchiorian personnel on the bridge screamed. Others cried. Others gasped. An eternal split second passed. The missile then tore through the bridge, blasting it apart in a nuclear blaze. The battle cruiser tilted back as the shockwave tore throughout its hull. The damaged ship continued to tilt slowly as it moved back from Di-Jonn’s fighter.

Thankfully, Jefferson Bethlehem and many other Malchiorian personnel were on other parts of the battlecruiser when the missiles hit. Nevertheless, everyone on the ship was tossed around as it tilted back. Piercing alarms echoed throughout each quarter and corridor. The lights blinked on and off as emergency power began to be routed throughout the ship. An announcement echoed throughout the ship.

“Bridge hull breached,” a cold AI voice intoned. “Bridge hull breached. Critical systems error. Rerouting emergency power systems and engaging in secondary bridge protocols.”

Jefferson found himself lying on the ground surrounded by shattered equipment. He glanced to the beige corridor outside of his quarters, and saw sparks flying from a series of damaged panels and wires. He pulled himself upward and limped to a nearby comms system, hoping to reach the Malchiorian fleet on standby.

---

[Landing Zone not far from the FSA General Assembly, Malchior]

A group of Malchiorian soldiers enclosed in crimson armor surrounded Secretary Russello as he sauntered up to Brianna. The Secretary wore a black blazer and pants and a white shirt with a stand collar. He bowed in respect, revealing a group of three aides behind him.

“Such a pleasure to finally meet you in person, signora,” Russello purred. “Truly a wondrous occasion. We hope you will find your stay on Malchior to be most enjoyable. And our talks to be incredibly worthwhile.”

-

[A Park on Malchior]

Nadle stared aghast at David Robert Jones. He raised his hands.

“Hang on,” he said. “So Allman could have killed us all by summoning these Void creatures, but Ascheron...of all people in the universe...saved us. Yet in doing so he ended up killing most of the race...save for Blackout, who now is a man with nothing left to lose and a vendetta against our entire galaxy. And let me guess: no one in all of Tanari knows where these Keys of Silence are ”

Nadle dropped his face into his palms.

“We’re going to be dealing with the consequences of Allmanism, Ascheronism, Armechianism, and the New Order until the end of fucking time, aren’t we?” he muttered, then sighed, marvelling at how the actions of a few set the galaxy on a collision course with fate.

“Sefer’s building something on Bendu,” Nadle declared, raising up to look back at David Robert Jones. “Intel reports have been unable to confirm what it is, but she was willing to kill one of our agents and Long Shortman over it. Oh, and Gabriel Ascheron is apparently dead, supposedly due to a car bomb, but something seems off for me. I’ll have my agents look into it.”

Nadle shook his head.

“So add all that to the list. I’m old enough to have fought in both the Vrai Wars and the Tanari-Takemikazuchi War. You and I have both seen how the galaxy, especially Malchior, can pull itself out of hell. All these recent developments though...they make me wonder...if there will be a universe left after Sefer and Klak are done with it.”

David Robert Jones found it peculiar that Nadle would refer to Klak in such a way.

“But we must be optimistic,” Nadle assured himself. “The Vrai, Allman, Uteriach, Caiaphus...we’ve defeated the darkness before. I have to believe that, David. I have to believe it will be the same with Sefer and now this ‘Blackout’.”

OOS: Note: Nadle knows both Caiaphus and Uteriach are alive, but Klak doesn’t know Caiaphus is alive. Not sure how you want it to be with DRJ, DRJ

---

[Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven]

“Damn,” Hercules replied in shock. “If she’s trying to unleash something on that cursed world, she is even more mad than everyone says.”

“Then it’s a plan. Destroy whatever is being built on Bendu, and releasing Crimson King. Wish there were some way to kill two birds with one stone.” Hercules dragged his cigarette as he plotted in his head.

-

[City limits of Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio turned in the direction of Arwell and raised his arms up. The K’thaan guards twirled their spears and pressed buttons that were on them, revealing the “spears” to have been energy harpoon guns all along. They aimed the guns at Arwell.

“Oh, good!” he cheered. “An agent of mine told me you were on your way! She correctly deduced that you would come straight for this city, and I correctly deduced you would use this forest! I admire your gumption and strategic thinking, er...Arwell, is it? Oh, and I doubt a Diamond Dog would come alone, so tell your squadron--wherever they are--to lower their weapons and come out. And you, lower your pistol too. It’s no way to greet your host! Plus, I just polished my armor.”

Figlio lowered a hand and placed it on his scabbard, just in case. He waved his other hand, and the K’thaan stopped aiming at Arwell.

-

[Vongola, Battle of Sards]

Some of the fighters took evasive maneuvers and successfully reeled away from the plasma bolts. Others were not so fortunate and were hit; two of these fighters were torn apart, the flaming debris crashing into the city. The surviving fighters regrouped and started firing on the bombers again.

The three remaining artillery cannons were all consumed flames as the volleys all directly hit them.

Meanwhile, Julio coughed as he feebly turned his head to face Thomas P. Kane.

“Aristocratic...Burjua...scum…” he sputtered in agony. “You’ll never...take me...alive!”

Julio began to move his frail arm to try to reach for a grenade.

---

[Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit]

Rain pressed a button.

“Oh crap,” he whimpered dramatically. “Help me! I don’t know how I got in this pod, please help me! They took my ship! OH HELP ME PLEASE!”

Rain hoped that the pilots would fall for it.

---

[Lurian location, Iotunort]

One of the Malchiorian soldiers shook her head.

“If you say so,” she replied. “That all sounds insane though.”

Another Malchiorian gave a nasty look at the corpse, then at the surviving Lurians.

“Freakin wild,” he whispered to himself.

The Malchiorians turned and began to walk away while cradling their rifles.

Suddenly, the soldiers' communication devices lit up with holograms of a commander reporting recent. The Commissar and her forces had just successfully repelled the invasion of Base Theta! However, Arc Jeriko was likely going to attack again soon.

[ Bendu ]

Sefer closed her eyes and, once again, focused.

She had mastered the physical aspect of the task roughly 21000 cycles ago; mentally alchemizing carbon into gold, then gold into pure valladium, until she was left with a small spheroid of the material roughly half a milimetre in diameter. Next was the process of synchronizing her creation with the para-relativistic properties of the target she was attempting to emulate, a process she was attaining increasing confidence in; she would etch the chronological and psychometric frequencies of the target world onto the object's akashic shadow itself, transforming it into a quantum clone of the world it was attempting to emulate. She felt her lips unconsciously muttering as she placed the world in its proper place and time, a single point of gold taking its place amongst so many hundred thousand others in a vast transquantum orrery suspended high above her, floating of its own accord, slowly rotating and transforming.

And then it exploded. Some half-alchemized molecule, some flaw in her akashic coding; this version of Sefer would never know. Reality folded in on itself, Bendu was destroyed, and then as it had nearly thirty-thousand times beforehand, time reset.

---

[ Bendu ]

Sefer closed her eyes and, once again, focused.

And then, sighing, stood up from her meditative position, stretching her legs.

"Coffee."

She made her way out of the orrery chamber, through the barrier separating the real world from the distortion field she had created to facilitate her work. Bendu's underground caverns were narrow but of seemingly infinite height and depth; walls of purple crystal created a narrow corridor which Sefer made her way down, walking across a translucent hard-light bridge, the true ceiling and floor of the cavern lost to the gloom that engulfed them. Further up ahead, she came to a small cave she had carved out of one of the walls, which benefited from having an actual floor; it contained a small electric stove, a few miscellaneous containers, a sleeping bag and, more importantly, Lilith.

Lilith's eyes shot open as Sefer walked in, and she ran up and jumped onto her, hugging her. They exchanged a brief kiss, then Lilith pulled back, still beaming with excitement.

"How long were you gone for?" she asked. It had been, for Lilith, roughly a week since Sefer entered the time distortion field.

For Sefer, it had been twenty-two years.

"A few months." Sefer replied.

"So, you still remember who I am?" asked Lilith, teasing.

Sefer smirked. "I don't think I have it within me to forget you."

A few minutes later, the two sat around the stove, Sefer cradling her long-awaited coffee. It was cheap, nasty, instant stuff, but in truth Sefer's taste buds had stopped working a long time ago, so as long as it at least visibly passed as coffee she felt satisfied.

"How's the war going?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Arc Kyydan's doing a good job running the show in your stead. Liquid-Metallicon's about to fall, and Valorus thinks he's found Klak. More and more worlds are flocking to our cause. There's even talk of the Xazari joining us."

"Fat chance." retorted Sefer. Lilith shrugged.

"I don't know. Arc Vodoss thinks there's a pretty compelling argument to be made. Also, we, uh, found Shortman. He... he took his own life rather than surrender."

"That's a shame. He was a good man."

"He was a traitor, Sefer."

Sefer took another sip. "The two aren't always mutually exclusive." she replied, before downing the rest of her coffee in a single go, and then standing back up. A a pained expression took hold of Lilith's face.

"Seriously, Sef? Leaving just like that?"

"I can't afford to delay." responded Sefer, reaching down and running her hand through Lilith's hair. Lilith rested her head against Sefer's thigh, closing her eyes, savoring the moment; conscious of a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that suggested there were precious few of these moments left to come. "Once I've assembled the conduit, we win. We bring peace to the galaxy. And then we all go home."

"Just... stand still. For a minute. Give me that. A minute."

Sefer was accutely conscious of the irrationality of prioritizing a momentary marital interaction over the well-being of the entire galaxy. She was also accutely conscious that if Lilith asked her to stop the war, disassemble the conduit, and ride off into the sunset with her, she probably would. The universe had birthed a thousand different Sefer Yetzirahs over the aeons - a thousand different would-be saviors looking to restore peace and justice to a chaotic galaxy - but as far as Sefer was concerned it had only ever birthed one Lilith Heyerdahl. One, and only ever one, and never again.

Sefer smirked. "I'll give you two."

---

[ Cormorant ]

Vekhta burst onto the bridge, the blade of Avalon at the ready. Baze Ishikawa was tied up, gagged on his command throne, his bridge crew absent; besides him stood Drake, clad in an armored EVA suit. Vekhta felt rage surging within her - burning, searing, as Baze stood within her grasp, but she collected herself, focusing on Drake.

Drake was the key to all this. The Cormorant was a trap, Baze its bait, Vekhta its intended target. Drake was the only thing connecting the trap to whoever it was that had set it. Vekhta stepped towards him, the tip of her blade pointed towards him.

"If you want to make it off this ship alive, speak."

---

[ Mercurus ]

Sano smiled gleefully smiled as Kurokawa spoke. Before the Darisian could respond, Arcs Vodoss and Serano stood up in unison.

"I am afraid you are operating under a false assumption, Mister Kurokawa." announced Vodoss.

"We are not offering you a binary choice between the free market and the New Order. We are offering you the choice to continue existing beyond the fall of the Free States." added Serano.

"Every day our Order grows stronger and stronger and the Alliance weaker and weaker. It is only a matter of time before Malchior itself falls."

"You must think very carefully about what place will remain for your people in such a galaxy. The Xazari state will no doubt be transformed by an alliance with the New Order. But it will survive."

"It will adapt, and your people will adapt. And you will find a new place in the galaxy. You are right that it will not be as lucrative as your current position, but it will provide for the continued existence of your people."

"This is not a threat. This is simply... market analysis. Currently, you are betting everything you have on a potentially lucrative, but very risky stock. One that I do not believe will ever pay off."

"We are not proposing that you fall on your knees and pledge allegiance to Emperor Sefer. We are not even proposing that you conclude your existing business with the Free States. Instead, we merely suggest you..."

The two brothers grinned, and spoke in unison:

"...diversify your assets."

<A Park on Malchior>

“The Key in Allman’s possession was rendered unusable. Our scientists believe they were never meant to be used separately at cross-purposes. Presumably, the same happened to Ascheron’s. We can only hope, anyway.”

Jones briefly pulled out an old-looking, ornate pocket watch, looked at it, then put it back in his pocket. “The wheel in the sky keeps on turning, relentlessly. But this one is not fuelled by water, but our blood. Perhaps this is simply in the nature of this peculiar galaxy. One wonders if they have to deal with this beyond the Rim as well.” he noted fatalistically in response to Nadle’s lament. He, too, had seen far too much suffering in his life, and at this point, he expected it.

He nodded repeatedly as the Malchiorian continued rattling off one disaster after the other. Nadle’s comment about Klak and Sefer made him raise an eyebrow, but no more - after all, it was merely confirmation that Nadle shared his intuitions about Klak.

“Let me know what your investigations turn up about Ascheron, I hope not to have to vote for him or any of his crime family. Perhaps it is this potential threat on Bendu that has caused Eachan to hide under his skirt.” Jones wondered. “Not that Eachan needs any reason to make the superficially expedient, but immoral and stupid, choice. You know, I have no illusions that by appointing me Ambassador, he just wanted to get me out of Tanari politics. But I’m fine with that. I’m an old man, Nadle. The more time I get to spend here and the less time I have to spend around him, the better.”

-----

<Tanari Prime, Capital City>

As she left Eachan’s residence and walked, almost aimlessly, through the streets of the Central Business District, Aster felt almost shell shocked. The politician in her - a role she still could not quite believe she had been thrust into - told her this was great. Her leverage against this woeful government had just increased at least tenfold. But unsurprisingly, that wasn’t far from the only thing on her mind. It had been a very heavy few days - not only had she just found out the entire Tanari-Takemikazuchi war had possibly been some kind of failed subterfuge masterminded by another race, of whom they knew nothing, but that the same mastermind had manoeuvred her into having to kill her former best friend for his - their? its? - own purposes.

Oh, and Jones had known all along. That didn’t help. Eachan slipped that one in there like a stiletto - Aster supposed the President needed all the fun he could get - probably figuring it would hurt her to know her other best friend had managed to keep that big a secret, concerning a fight where they had been partners from start to finish, from her. Aster supposed the President needed all the fun he could get.

Aster also now felt the loneliest she ever had in her life. She needed a friend, someone to vent to, and fast.

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

Kane looked down, and noticed Julio reaching for something. He gently put his foot over the grenade, then picked it up and tossed it away. He fired a small flare into the air, signalling to his nearby minions that he might soon need their help. “Such heroic nonsense. I don’t need you alive at all. Your death, however, will be suitably publicised, and will serve as a symbol to the world that the fight for order, for harmony, for tradition continues.” he said, firing a laser at Julio’s head.


The remaining bomber dropped its remaining bombs on what looked like a suitably large grouping of VPR soldiers, then suddenly turned and sped away into the distance as fast as it could, firing off more plasma bolts and flares to make it harder for the fighters to follow.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit>

“Copy that, unidentified.” one of the pilots replied to Rain. “Pod contains one hijacking victim requesting assistance.” he then transmitted to the other fighter, which then maneuvered so as to be above Rain’s pod, and then attempted to grab onto it with a grapple claw.


Back in orbit, several of the fighters fired warning shots across the bow of the larger ship, as all ten of them closed in on it.

-----

<Deep Space, Several Days After Richard’s ‘Death’>

An old-model Tanari shuttle hung in space near the current edge of New Order territory, carrying one occupant. It was broadcasting a signal on all frequencies, in the hopes that a New Order ship would intercept it, perhaps preposterously demanding to speak to someone high-ranking.

[ Cormorant, Lovian System ]

Drake lifted his hand from the back of the command throne where Baze Ishikawa squirmed against his bindings, and stepped toward Arc Vekhta. He turned and ripped the tape from Ishikawa’s mouth, the captive grunting in pain before addressing Vekhta.

“Please, you have to help me! They’ve kidnapped me, I’m a businessman from Liquid Metallicon, I seek sanctum with the New Order! Kill them, free me - please, I’m begging you.”

Vekhta stood statue-still, her face emotionless as she considered the pathetic, blathering man in front of her. Drake reached a gauntleted hand up slowly to Baze’s sweaty face, and clasped it under the chin. Baze struggled against Drake, but the armoured man’s grip was as iron.

“I think you two know each other,” Drake rasped. “Why don’t you get reacquainted? Or perhaps you’d rather go straight to the part where...” Drake snapped his free hand down, a wide purple energy blade fanning out from the gauntlet. It hummed, matching Vehkta’s blade to create a drone that filled the silence of the bridge.


[ Typa Gypsy, Lovian System ]


The bridge was tense with anticipation. Only Ciro, lounging on her command throne, seemed at ease. From the helm, Bol looked back up at the Corsair Queen. “The nuclear devices are primed and armed, Mistress. On your word.”

Veyelan’s hologram writhed with angry movement. “Detonate the bombs! Why do you delay, the bitch is in the trap!”

Ciro smirked. “Veyelan darling,” she said, addressing the hologram. “I have one of the most fearsome men I have ever met aboard that vessel; one that I rely on to execute my enemies. Enemies far more threatening than one of Sefer Yetzirah’s whelps."

A single grainy feed from Drake’s helmet camera showed Vekhta charge onto the Cormorant’s bridge. Ciro smiled as Drake offered the Arc her choice.



[ City limits of Armechius, Vongola ]

Arwell dropped the magazine from the pistol and threw the gun across the clearing. “That gyndroid. I didn’t expect you to come to me, I’ll be honest.”

A slight breeze whispered through the trees, the energy in the air between the two men palpable. The princely Figlio Di Armechio, resplendent in the plate armour of his ancestors, stood mere meters from Arwell, sweaty, shabby in a shirt and slacks.

“Your father. He’s alive, as far as I know, and the Malchiorians have him. I’m the man that can get him out - you just have to get me there, wherever “there” is.”



[ Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven ]

Slumping back into the chair, Dallas regarded Hercules seriously. “If this is going to go ahead, you need to work the Malchiorian side of the deal. From the inside. When Arwell’s back with me, you’re going to have a small window to prepare the site, wherever it is that Arwell tells us that is. Get a man in there, or yourself. Meanwhile, we’ll force the outside, with Arwell as the pry bar. You’d better head off - and be careful Hercules.”

With that, Dallas stood and proffered a hand to his new conspirator.

[ Andromeda, Lovian System ]

Captain Garland bit his lip nervously as he watched the Cormorant on the view screen. It had been a few minutes since Vekhta had boarded when another ship appeared, docking with it; Garland tried to contact her, but to no avail - communications in and out of the Cormorant were completely jammed.

---

[ Cormorant ]

"I... I've waited a long time to see you again, Baze. I've had a lot of time to think about what I'd say if I saw you again. What I'd do. You're a monster."

Baze struggled against his restraints, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as Vekhta approached.

"I've never met you! I've never seen you! I have no-"

"SILENCE!" roared Vekhta as she reached a hand out, telepathically choking the man. "I remember every single thing you did. Every single thing you forced me to do. Everyone you murdered, or maimed, or had us do so in your stead. I was a child, Baze. We all were. And you used us."

Guttural sounds slid of Baze's throat as he struggled for breath, before Vekhta released him, the aging man slumping down in his chair, gasping.

"I... I have no memory of you... Arc Vekhta..." he replied, weakly.

Vekhta's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you remember Zin Bardo. Or Kaito Reeves. Or any of the other rival warlords you had me butcher."

Baze's eyes shot open. "I... I do... I do remember them. But Arc Vekhta... it wasn't you I had kill them." he replied, as the door to the bridge opened behind Vekhta with a faint hiss. "Gods... gods forgive me. It was him."

Vekhta turned. Standing in the doorway behind her, observing the conversation, was a calm, serious-looking man dressed in a white cassock. A vague sense of unreality fell over her as she saw him - the damning realization that despite never having consciously seen him before, his features, his stance, everything about the man seemed uncomfortably familiar. Her memories of Liquid-Metallicon were painted with the colors of his presence, his aura permeated them; yet she couldn't recall a single precise moment where she had actually seen him.

And the truth hit her, like some vast predatory bird that had been lurking on the edge of her consciousness before finally swooping in for the kill. He was not a participant in her memories; he was the author.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" asked Shepard, his tone calm and stoic. "To be used by Sefer, as I once was."

Seizing the opportunity, Drake charged. Vekhta's reactions were lightning-fast - automatic - she drew the Blade of Avalon around, deflecting Drake's blade and thrusting the tip of her own sword towards his chest; the assassin instinctively responded by slinking low, under the blade, tripping Vekhta up with a brutal kick of an armored boot. She fell partway, pushing herself off the ground with a burst of telekinetic energy, drawing the sword around for another thrust; Drake loosed a shotgun-blast of piezoelectric shards from some sleek compartment on his armor which tore through Vekhta's right shoulder, shredding it. She loosed a cry of pain, her arm spasming, the Blade of Avalon flying out of her grasp and embedding itself in Baze's chest, killing him instantly. Drake wasted no time - immediately he set upon his unarmed opponent, and it was all she could do to avoid his calculated thrusts as she waited for her right arm to heal.

And then, Drake noticed - with a fraction of a second to spare - the crackling red energy surrounding her left hand. A bolt of red lightning tore through the air where moments ago Drake had stood, destroying fully the rear half of the bridge, a hundred dozen alarms and klaxons sounding at once as the ship began to tumble through space. Drake stood up, his armor crackling from the near-miss; warning elements appeared within his heads-up-display which he dismissed with a neural motion, before purging the now-fried reactive components of his suit, extraneous panels and components shooting off him like spent booster modules off a space shuttle. Vekhta charged up another bolt of lightning, but Drake wasn't going to give her the opportunity to loose it; he closed the distance between them in an instant, the EVA thrusters of his suit at full output - he slammed into her, breaking her, crushing her between the bulk of his power armor and the bulkhead behind her. He pulled back, readying his blade for the finishing blow, but she reached out with her now-healed right arm, grabbing his forearm with her mechanical right hand and crushing his armor, destroying the emitter of his blade which flickered and sputtered out of existence. She looked up at him, and grinned.

The blade of Avalon slid out of Baze's carcass, telepathically pulled towards Vekhta; Drake jumped backwards as it passed through the spot he had previously occupied, but wasted no time in drawing his Offensive Actions Pistol and emptying it in her direction; she deflected his shots even as she climbed back up to her feet, but he methodically dumped the mag, loaded another, then fired away again. One round got through, then another, cutting clean through her body, before she extended her hand, stopping the bullets in mid-air with a barrier of telekinesis. They fell to the floor as she settled into a swords stance, her composure regained, her wounds already knitting themselves back together. Shepard observed calmly, his arms folded, as the battle played out in front of him.

Sefer has trained her well, he thought. My master... will be pleased.

---

[ Deep Space ]

The Tanari shuttle got its wish, as the Vengeance burst out of FTL space above it, and within moments the shuttle was pulled via tractor beam into one of the assault carrier's many hangar bays. Four PsyTroopers resplendent in the personal colors of Arc Kyydan formed a perimeter around it, supported by marines who trained their rifles on the shuttle, watching for movement. Two further PsyTroopers accompanied Captain Jeremiah Thule as he made his way down from an overhead gantry, approaching the shuttle. He gestured for one of his marines to hot-wire the shuttle's main hatch and force it open.

"Come on, come on." he urged, clasping his hands together. "We haven't got all day."

The PsyTroopers stood motionless as the marine worked to crack open the shuttle. It was a rare honor, even amongst the highest ranked Arcs, to be allowed to maintain a retinue of PsyTroopers; the privilege had only ever been offered to Kyydan and Keylana. Their presence on the hangar floor was a representation of Kyydan's suspicion that this was no mere shuttle, and its appearance on the edge of New Order space... no mere coincidence.

[Vonilla Orbit, Adriatica Halls]

After seeing the two guards fall to the combined assault, Willow signals to Bob to advance forward, pulling the zone of Silence along with the pair. Using hand signals as best she can to coordinate silently with her murder buddy. Pointing out next targets along the way, they take out much of the crew, only really running into issues when more than four of the mooks were in a room at a time.

Eventually kicking in the door to the bridge, dropping silence as they arrive.

[Adriatica Halls, Vonilla Orbit]

Bob followed Willow, taking out various New Order guards using his runic gun. They ran into some trouble when there were more than four mooks at a time, but thankfully their quick wits and teamwork helped them survive...for now.

They burst into the bridge. Bob strafed the room, hoping the zone of Silence would give him enough time to form a strategy to secure the room and hold the Arc hostage. If not...things were about to get complicated for everyone on board.

---

[Vongolan Local Space, Stairway to Heaven

Hercules smiled, tilting his cigarette slightly.

“Sounds like a plan. And I have just the people for the job, myself included.”

He placed the cigarette back in his mouth, then remembered something.

“Fuck,” Hercules muttered. “Malchior knows I’ve defected, but I could come up with a credible story, convince them I’m still on their side.”

Hercules stood up and proffered his hand, clutching the cigarette with his teeth.

“Pleasure to be working with you once more, Mr. Dalton,” he smiled.

-

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

The laser bolt seared through the exposed part of Julio’s helmet, killing him instantly.

Word of Julio’s death and the destruction of the VPR’s artillery installations spread like wildfire amongst the rebels. Many of the rebel fighters throughout Sards began to cheer. The battle was not over just yet, but they just made a significant stride toward victory.

Tulio, Julio’s brother, appeared as a hologram out of a device on the corpse’s arm.

“Brother, we’ve retaken the design district, but the other commanders say we’ve lost our artillery positions!” Tulio gasped, realizing what had happened to his brother. He screamed and sobbed, horrified K’thaanit words streaming out of his mouth. He turned to Thomas P. Kane, tears visible in the eyeholes of his helmet.

“You will pay for this!” he shouted. The hologram disappeared.

-

The VPR soldiers were killed by the bombs. Meanwhile, the fighters swerved in an attempt to dodge plasma bolts and flares. The pilots of each of these fighters cursed as the bombers got away. They regrouped and began to fly around the city, picking off rebel soldiers.

-

[Main Kozinite Base, Tarzia Province, Vongola

Joshua Kozín slammed his fist on a plasteel table. A rebel group had been wiped out trying to disrupt a VPR supply chain on the other side of the planet. He rubbed his eyes and turned to a holographic map that displayed real-time formations from Adorra. At least that was going well.

A rebel officer came in with a mixed expression on his face.

“Sir,” he said, worriedly. “We just received word. Kane just took down the artillery installations on Sards. And he’s killed Julio.”

Kozín’s eyes widened.

“Killed Julio?” he echoed in shock.

Although this was a significant victory for the rebels, it was one fraught with complications. The rebellion was a fragile patchwork of various resistance groups and mercenaries--like the Diamond Dogs--united by one goal: defeat the VPR. But many of them disagreed on what would happen next. Many militias, like Thomas P. Kane’s, had a second vision for a post-VPR Vongola. Kane claimed to want to return to the planet’s monarchist past, a goal he and Kozín once shared. But Kozín, like many other rebel groups, wanted to build a more democratic regime out of the ashes of VPR’s dictatorship and the monarchy it had replaced. At the same time, Kozín suspected Kane secretly planned to form another system altogether. Either way, a subtle competition between Kane, Kozín, and other rebel leaders of differing ideologies began several years ago. They all remained allies, but many knew this alliance was as fragile as ever. As such, although Kane’s victory was a win for the rebellion, it was nevertheless a blow to the Kozínites because it would galvanize the monarchists.

Furthermore, Kozín knew that Julio would become a martyr within the VPR. Sure, they would have Sards, but at the cost of empowering both of Kozín’s enemies.

Two steps forward, one step back.

-

[City limits of Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio frowned.

“So Cromwell was right,” he muttered. “You really are selling us the idea that my father is alive.”

Figlio shook his head. He glanced up at the sky, then back to Arwell.

“I want to believe you, and I think I might.” he continued, louder this time. “A war like this one cannot be sustained by something as flimsy as ideology for long. If I can’t beat the Vongolan People’s Republic into submission, then perhaps my father can. After all, he has a vision for the universe...one that suits us all greatly. We must overcome setbacks like this war and his imprisonment for his revolution. Plus, I miss him!”  

Figlio nodded and forced a smile. He then frowned again.

“Supposedly, you have a talent for dealing with security systems,” he said, rubbing his chin. “If you are telling the truth...then you would be useful as an ally. Indispensable, even.”

Figlio inched closer to Arwell, his face glowering.

“But if you’re lying to me,” he growled. “Then I’ll gut you in front of Dallas Dalton myself.”

Figlio paused, allowing his threat to sink in. But threatening a Diamond Dog was no easy feat, even for a Rider. Figlio then smiled, a rapid change in emotion.

“Do you have any leads as to where the Malchiorians put him?” he asked, peering at Arwell inquisitively. “And why are the Dogs willing to help a humble Dachori like me? I want to work with you, I just want to know what motivates you.”

An ironic question, seeing as how Arwell and Dalton were themselves trying to see what made Figlio tick.  

---

[A Park on Malchior]

Nadle grit his teeth as David Robert Jones elucidated about the symbolic wheel of blood. He then nodded as David Robert Jones spoke about Silver.

“I’ll keep you updated on my investigations on Ascheron, and on everything else,” Nadle assured. “Just keep me updated on this whole ‘Blackout’ business. And see? There’s always a silverlining. You’re far away from Eachan and the Tanari mess.”

Nadle chuckled at his own joke, a strange habit he had developed over the years.

“I just hope Evangelise loses, even if it means Gaius wins,” he remarked, returning to his solemn tone. “We both have to do anything in my power to make sure the FSA stays on the right course. Otherwise, we’re all doomed.”

Nadle stood up, and coughed slightly. He reached into his jacket’s pocket and pulled out a syringe gun. He injected himself, put the gun away, then turned to Jones.

“So, what next?”  

---

[Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit]

The larger ship did a barrel roll in an attempt to dodge the warning shots. A slightly human-sounding robotic voice emanated through the Tanari pilots’ comms.

“Cease your fire,” the voice said. “Or you will face our wrath!”

Meanwhile, the claw successfully grabbed onto Rain’s pod. Rain sweat a little bit as he felt his pod get pulled into the Tanari ship. This approach may be a little messier, but it would still work to his benefit so long as he could reach the planet’s surface.

---

[Near Base Theta, Iotunort]

A group of FSA soldiers wearing white armor (credit to shenfeic) appeared out of nowhere, aiming their guns at the rodent-like faestir. They had quietly made their way to the crash site after the victory at Base Theta.

“State your business!” an Iotun corporal named Bijorn-tar barked. Flurries of snow landed all over the furry titan’s face as he glared sternly at the faestir.

-

Meanwhile, a Zrujim guardian clad in a black cowl quietly traversed the snowy dunes, heading towards Base Theta.

[ Comorant, Lovian System ]

The bridge was silent but for the hum of the void gate integrity field, and Baze Ishikawa’s gurgling as he died. Settling into a low boxing stance, Drake shuffled toward his opponent. Vekhta wheeled her sword about, changing her facing to counter Drake’s, her sword raised to lay parallel to her cheek. She thrust as Drake stepped forward, but Drake gave a short right, punching the blade sideways. With a flick of her wrist, the sword flipped back over Drake’s arm, sliding up to catch him under the armpit. Drake clamped his arm down hard, clasping the blade between his rib and upper arm, the armour rippling quicksilver as it struggled to repel the eldritch energies contained in the sword. Drake lunged forward with a low kick, which Vekhta leapt over, twisting hard and yanking her blade free of Drake’s grip. A slim panel slid open on Drake’s armour, a fan of micromissiles speeding out and exploding around the Arc as she reeled backward. Drake used the opening to step in close, throwing elbows and knees, catching Vekhta in a vicious combination. The Arc spat blood as she grabbed Drake’s outstretched fist, dumping red lighting into the armoured suit once more. This time, it proved effective, with the armour’s more intricate systems fried from the last bout. Drake howled as the electricity course through him, and he dropped to one knee, but as the attack abated he grabbed Vekhta’s leg, yanking up and sending her flipping to the floor.

Both fighters rolled back, exhausted and battered, breathing hard. The armour suit wouldn’t take much more; Drake knew that. He had to finish it, and soon. Activating a chemical warfare suite in his VI, the suit dropped its payload of chlorine gas. Vekhta gagged and coughed, stumbling away from the spreading cloud.

Just as Drake pressed the attack, the Comorant bucked and rocked, and both Vekhta and Drake fell to their knees. Red alarm klaxons began sounding, and a neutral female voice echoed throughout the ship - “Hull Breach Imminent. Seek Immediate Mechanical Assistance.”

The ship rocked again, and then the bridge was chaos, panels along the side rent and spilling into space. As the air was sucked out viciously (along with the chlorine gas) both fighters were sent tumbling. It was all Drake could do to activate the magnets concealed in his boots, clamping him to the decking and bringing him to a screeching stop. Vekhta was not so lucky, hitting the bulkhead as she was sucked from the bridge, the impact setting her spinning wildly.

A close formation of three splinter-like fighter craft made a screeching pass on the ship, twisting in the inky blackness of space that Vekhta now spun through as though a ragdoll.

Drake activated the thrusters on his suit, and followed in close pursuit.


[ City limits of Armechius, Vongola ]

The threat Figlio made fell flat as Arwell’s face hardened. “I’m not a man you can threaten Figlio, because I have a purpose. I am no longer just a man.”

“The Dogs don’t want to help you; in fact, they’re pretty set on seeing you dead. But I want to help you, and I’m not a Dog. I’m Gerry Arwell, and I want your father as much as you - maybe even more. My reasons are my own. But I know that I’m the only person who can get him out of that installation. As for its location…” Arwell sighed and slumped down on a treestump.

“It’s in the Malchior sector, that much I’m certain. I did a deep trawl on the job I was offered working on the installation, but it led to proxy companies and dead ends all round. My only positive lead was a Vongolan defence contractor, Yriel Bergstrom. I was hoping your intelligence agencies might have some level of lead either on Bergstrom or an ongoing investigation into your father’s whereabouts I could poach…” Arwell said exasperatedly.

<The Vengeance>

Before the marine could finish hot-wiring the hatch, it opened by itself, and a smiling, bearded man with short, greying hair and a scar across his face stepped out, his hands up to indicate he posed no threat.

“I am Richard,” he said, as the ugly sound of the hatch grinding back into position drowned out his surname, “former deputy leader of a political party in the Tanari Confederation. I wish to speak with whoever is in charge here.”

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

Kane smiled at Tulio’s hologram. “I look forward to it.” he muttered, as his lackeys arrived and hauled Julio’s corpse away towards a tall tower in the rebel-held part of the city. They hauled it up to almost the top floor, and, using rope, attached it to the outside of the building so it would be visible from afar. They then set up a strange-looking device, which projected an extremely large hologram of Kane’s face into the sky above Sards.

“Attention, citizens of Sards and combatants! I am Thomas Phaedrus Kane, commander of the Vongolan Rapid Response! My forces have just eliminated the artillery installations surrounding the city and I, myself, have killed Julio.” he boomed, as the bomber that had been chased away suddenly became once again visible over the horizon, this time flanked by another bomber and two large jets. “And I promise you, we shall all be free.”

As soon as the transmission ended, Kane and his helpers fled the building as quickly as possible to avoid any potential air strikes.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit>

The two fighters, having recovered the pod, changed course, and landed at a base near the capital city. A number of soldiers were waiting at the landing pad, and began trying to jerry-rig the pod open as soon as it was deposited there. Colonel Anna Luxon was already there, her curiosity piqued by this unusual hijacking.


The fighters ignored the voice, and began firing on the ship’s engines.

-----

<A Park on Malchior>

“I will let you know whatever I can glean.” Jones raised his eyebrow at the syringe gun. “Are you alright, Nadle?” he asked.

[ Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla Orbit ]

Arc Valorus turned in his command throne as the intruders entered, silently cursing himself for having transferred his ship's entire PsyTrooper compliment to the Pacifica, leaving none in reserve aboard the Adriatica. Even surrounded by the field of silence, the telepathic abilities afforded to him as an adamah allowed him to address the intruders, speaking directly into their minds.

"So you've managed to infiltrate my ship without my knowledge. That's some skill. Unfortunately for you it simply won't be enough." he announced, standing up, as the remaining bridge crew began to filter out through the side exits. He clapped his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart; a lightning bolt formed between his palms, writhing as if trying to pull them back together. The lightning condensed into a white-hot bolts of plasma, which surrounded the air around Arc Valorus like fireflies. With a series of rapid hand gestures, he began shooting them off towards the intruders, a machine-gun volley of explosive plasma bolts homing in on them...

---

[ Battleship Vengeance, Deep Space ]

"That... would be me" responded Captain Thule, folding his arms. "I am Captain Jeremiah Thule of the OBS Vengeance. You have made a very strange decision in choosing to surrender to the New Order, Richard, so as a courtesy I will give you the next few minutes to explain yourself before my master-at-arms arrests you."

Meanwhile, within his sanctum at the heart of the ship, Arc Kyydan telepathically observed the conversation, taking in every detail.

---

[ Cormorant, Lovian System ]

A blast of shadow energy tore past Drake, his suit's advanced sensors failing to provide him with even a moment's notice; he turned to see Shepard flying towards him, telekinetically propelling himself through the vaccum of space. Drake loosed a flamethrower-blast of napalm from some extraneous component of his wrist armor, the burning fluid flowering out in the vacuum of space and creating a wall of flame protecting him, Shepard disappearing behind it. Seizing the opportunity, Drake turned to finish Vekhta, but instead found Shepard already behind him; the priest attacked with a barrage of rapid low-strength strikes, targeting Drake's joints, his armor's RCS thrusters barely able to keep him from spinning off into the wall of flame now behind him. Drake went to retaliate... but found that his arms no longer responded to his commands - neither did his legs. As if by instinct, he summoned his suit's diagnostic suite, but they reported no error; instead, Drake now floated like a ragdoll, much the same as Vekhta.

Then with moments to spare, Shepard turned, ignoring Drake and reaching a hand out towards the lead ship of the attacking Akkar fighters. The beast inside writhed about within its command harness as Shepard focused, reprogramming its mind, before it accepted its new task and veered off to engage its former allies.

"That's... some parlour trick you've got there." remarked Drake, weakly. Shepard turned back to him.

"Such abilities would also be open to you... if you possessed faith in even the smallest degree." replied Shepard. "I am letting you live. I have temporarily reprogrammed your body to ignore your neural commands. When you recover, you would be wise to tell your master that Arc Vekhta is dead. From now on she will serve a higher cause."

Shepard's Espiritu Santo gunship, the Sanhedrin, detached from the disintegrating wreckage of the Cormorant and flew towards him, piloted by its onboard AI. It fired a cable towards Shepard which he grabbed with one hand, allowing himself to be pulled along as it flew towards Vekhta's body; he grabbed her, and then the two were pulled towards the ship's troop bay.

You damned fool, thought Drake. I don't need my limbs to kill you. Using his neural link he interfaced with the weapons systems onboard the Typa Gypsy, feeding it targeting information from his helmet; he remotely aimed the ship's forward cannon at the Sandedrin and fired a three-round burst of high-velocity shells towards the gunship. Barely clinging to life, Vekhta noticed the muzzle flashes and summoned the last of her strength into a final bolt of scarlet lightning which cut across the space between the two ships, detonating the shells. Before Drake could fire another salvo, the loading ramp of the Sanhedrin slid closed and the ship jumped to FTL, vanishing.

[Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla Orbit]

Thinking fast, and reacting quicker, the sorceress tosses up a small volley of metal coins into the air, scattering the electricity about them, charging them with energy as she waves a glyph at each of them, bringing them into an animated being.
Pointing back at the Arc, the menagerie of currency assails Valorus, crackling with the electricity he had attempted to assail the pair with.

"You will find my specialty is dealing with issues like this," Willow retorts, signaling to Bob that the Silence field had dropped.

[Moon of Vonilla, Space Station]

The portal finally cracked open. Klak strolled up to it with a stony face. Min-Su silently stepped towards the portal as well; they obfuscated confusion, but planned on observing every detail of what was about to transpire.

--

[Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla Orbit]

Bob leaped out of the way, hoping to avoid the plasma bolts. However, once Willow summoned the currency and deflected the bolts, Bob stood up.

“Hell of a job,” he remarked, astonished. He trained his pistol at Arc Valorus.

Suddenly, a portal opened in the middle of the bridge. Klak emerged with Min-Su quietly following him.

Klak’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Containing it all using currency? That is just brilliant!” Klak commended. “Great work getting up to the bridge too, Bob and er...what was your name again, kid?”

Klak remembered where he was, and turned to face Arc Valorus.

“I’m warning you one last time, Arc,” he cautioned. “Leave this station. You’ve seen what I can get done without an army. Imagine what happens when the Malchiorian fleet gets here. Let us go, I’ll get on my ship, and we all pretend this never happened. Sound fair?”

Klak glanced out into space and suddenly noticed the wrecked Malchiorian battlecruiser from earlier. The bridge had been obliterated, and the ship was likely running on reserve power...assuming anyone had survived the blast.

“No…” Klak whispered in shock. He knelt to the ground, fearing the worst had happened to his friend Jefferson and to Admiral Kamarov.  

--

[Malchiorian Battlecruiser, Vongolan Orbit]

Jefferson Bethlehem dragged himself to the emergency communications array, inching ever so closer. Come on, he urged himself. Just a few more steps and we can call for reinforcements…

---


[Stairway to Heaven]

Hercules Splendor’s stealth ship undocked as he waved goodbye to Dallas Dalton from his cockpit. His ship pivoted downwards. Splendor then pushed the thrust lever forward, quietly hovering away from the Diamond Dog’s flagship.

A holographic HUD display appeared in front of the cockpit window. Hercules flicked his hand, dismissing a window that displayed text from a book on one “Domino Badoiun”. He pursed his lips.
“Open file,” he spoke to the ship’s AI, breaking the silence. “Access Code 070317. File Code Name: ‘Thin White Duke’.”

A window opened displaying an old picture of Dallas Dalton with detailed biographical information...or at least whatever information Dallas allowed the Malchiorians to know.

“If this works,” Hercules whispered to himself. “Maybe I can delete your ledger, Dallas, and clear mine. No states, no masters.”

Hercules waved his hand, dismissing the file. An array of pictures accompanied by code names appeared, listing the MDI’s files on important targets, allies, and persons of interest. “LEVEE” for Emperor Sefer Yetzirah. “YELLOW JESTER” for Arc Caiaphus (one of the few files not even the President could access without Nadle’s approval). “CRIMSON KING” for Generalissimo Uteriach di Armechio. “CAGED LION” for Arc Kyydan. “POSEIDON” for Arc Zyandar. “LUFTBALLON” for Ascheron. “SYRINX” for Silver Eachan. “JANUS” for Aster. To name a few.

Two new files appeared, briefly catching Hercules’s interest. Both lacked images.

The first was called “BLACKOUT”. For some reason, Hercules felt his skin crawl. Must be the artificial gravity jitters, he thought, dismissing the feelings of dread.

The other file was named “MAD HATTER”. No feelings of dread this time, just mild, fleeting curiousity.

Hercules dismissed holographic HUD. He flicked a few switches, then pushed the FTL thruster. The stealth ship whooshed towards Malchior.

-

[City limits of Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio frowned again upon finding that his threat fell flat on its face. He slightly smiled and nodded upon hearing that the Dogs wanted him dead, the smile widening upon hearing about Arwell’s eagerness for breaking Uteriach out.

“Yriel Bergstrom,” Figlio pondered. “Yriel Bergstrom…”

Figlio pressed a button on his wrist, summoning a small keypad. He typed the name and suddenly a hologram of Yriel appeared. Text boxes full of information on Yriel that had been collected by VPR spies appeared.

“Hmm,” Figlio said. “Anything you can get from this, Gerry? I hope it’s thorough enough to get things going. There might even be information here we got from the monarchy after we took over.”

-


[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

The rebels and even some civilians cheered throughout the city, celebrating the news of Thomas Phaedrus Kane’s victory. Many VPR soldiers cursed out loud or internally.

Various VPR units fought harder this time, with some exosuit platoons catching rebels by surprise. A hovertank spotted Kane and his helpers as they left the building, and started firing on them.

The fighter ships from earlier regrouped and headed for the rebel bomber. Meanwhile, a fleet of VPR bombers menacingly crept from the horizon towards Sards.

---

[Tanari Prime, Lower Orbit]

Rain quietly grabbed a pistol at his side. He positioned the pistol out of sight between his legs, angling it upwards just in case. Rain then pushed up against the roof of the pod with his other arm. The roof flipped open, revealing him to the Tanari soldiers.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Rain belied breathlessly. “I thought I was going to be space junk!”

Meanwhile, the Malchiorian ship attempted an evasive maneuver. Although it was able to save its engines, the right tail flat had been blasted away.

The ship dovetailed then twirled upwards, firing a volley of lasers at the Tanari fighters.


---

[A Park on Malchior]

“Ha,” Nadle replied, smiling. “Just some little health problem I’ve been having. I should have told Veras about this, maybe they could have given me some magical miracle cure. Ah, I’ll be fine.”

Nadle put the syringe gun away, then cleared his throat.

“I appreciate all of your help, David,” he said. “You’ve been a good friend all these years. I know I can count on you to see this through.”

< Vesa Qatoria >

Vesa Qatoria was, as far as most of the galaxy was concerned, little more than a standard agricultural world. Which made it, all things considered, a good place to hide.

It was an entire planet terraformed to have a climate and landscape resembling the southwestern United States, encircled by a vast equatorial ring-station connected to the planet's surface by orbital elevators, and had been ruled for centuries by the notorious Breaker dynasty. As Shepard banked around one of the vast equatorial tethers, he could see a huge haulage cart the size of a city block slowly crawling its way up it, emblazoned with the bighorn sigil of the Breaker clan - no doubt carrying tens if not hundreds of thousands of Vesan cattle upwards for offworld processing. He pitched the nose of the Sanhedrin downwards, pulling away from the orbital tether and in for a landing.

A few minutes later, the Sanhedrin splashed down at Fort Onassis Spaceport, making a smooth landing in the vast aquamarine lake the spaceport was built around. He pulled the Sanhedrin into a privately-owned berthing where two Espiritu Santo men, Salem and Juaréz, were waiting for him. The troop door of the Sanhedrin slid down and Shepard stepped out of it, carrying the unconscious body of Arc Vekhta in his arms.

"She needs medical attention." he announced. "Brother Clearwater will need to see to her."

---

A few hours later, Vekhta was awake, the worst of her injuries healed. By then, Shepard had already recounted his experiences to her in great depth. Shepard was a tengu - the very first generation of adamah, and the only to be created by the Takemikazuchi Empire as opposed to the later New Order. He and his brothers and sisters had fought valiantly during the Tanari-Takemikazuchi war, laying down their lives in service to the Emperor - only to find that no place existed for them in the New Order that would arise afterwards.

Then he recounted Krace - one of the first battles of the New Order, and the first real stumbling block of its existence. Once again he and his kind took to the field of battle, but this time were whittled down one-by-one - Shepard recounted how Sefer, again and again, sent them into unwinnable battle after unwinnable battle, impossible odds after impossible odds, until only he remained. Glorious warriors that had once numbered one-thousand reduced to but a man.

It was only when the first Arcs emerged from their cryo-hatcheries on Kharabad that he realized what had happened; the tengu, crafted from exceptionally talented warriors throughout the old Takemikazuchi Empire, were too independent for Sefer's liking. Beings with individual thoughts and feelings - and motivations that could differ from Sefer's own. She had engineered the battle for Krace, a planet with no real tactical value whatsoever, to rid herself of the tengu so the next generation of adamah could take their place.

And it had worked spectacularly. When he finally understood what had taken place, Shepard had tried to kill Sefer - and almost succeeded - but was instead forced to flee, taking up refuge with Espiritu Santo, a militaristic neo-Christian order of battle monks. He had easily slain their leader in single combat, and so as per tradition, became the new leader.

Vekhta considered what Shepard had said. She had little other choice; locked in the basement of an Espiritu Santo warehouse, her neck tied to a metal post by what looked to be a bike lock, her body still barely capable of sustaining life.

"And after you betray her, the Emperor decides to take your memories and implant them into... me?"

Shepard nodded. "Apparently so."

Vekhta chuckled. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to convince me."

"No, I don't." replied Shepard. He was sat down on a crate across from her, staring intently at the wounded Arc. "You know what I'm saying is true. What was your mother's name?"

"Dori" replied Vekhta, confidently.

"And what was that short for?"

Vekhta paused, staring back at Shepard.

"Eight letters." continued Shepard. "You don't know the answer because you never knew. Your memories aren't internally consistent, and you know it. Sefer embedded in you everything she needed to inspire a burning hatred of Liquid-Metallicon... and nothing else. You're an imitation of me. But I can offer you the chance to be so much more."

"No. I'll never betray the Emperor. If she did manipulate my memories, then I trust that her reasons for doing so were entirely valid." she replied, smirking. "What happens to me is of no consequence; my life is hers to do with as she pleases. All that matters is that the Order prevails."

Shepard sighed, standing up, and walking away from her.

"My master... will be here soon." he replied, before pausing, and looking back to her. "He will address your mistaken perception of the universe. And then you, too, shall serve him."

---

< Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla System >

Arc Valorus chuckled. "You think I'm gonna let you go after all the bullshit you've pulled today? You and your little band of terrorists have ruined enough lives - and it ends here - now".

He readied up another wave of plasma bolts - when a railgun round tore through his chest, ending him. Klak looked around, but it wasn't one of his allies that had shot him - it was a PsyTrooper, standing behind Arc Valorus, who came into view as the Arc fell to the floor between them. The PsyTrooper looked dismissively down at the rail rifle in its hands, before tossing it to the floor, and pulling its helmet off.

Sefer. Evidently, under their helmets, the PsyTroopers were perfect Sefer clones with an exact resemblance. And when she offered up her trademark smirk, Klak knew without a shadow of a doubt that this PsyTrooper was being remotely piloted by the Emperor herself. A jolt of panic shot through him. Not here. Not now.

"Long time no see, Klak."

The PsyTrooper walked over to one of the control panels in the bridge, tapped in a few commands, and suddenly a low drone sounded throughout the ship as the Railgun powered down. She looked back to Klak and his friends.

"I've powered down the railgun, and you're free to go. I don't appreciate my Arcs pointing weapons at mass destruction at noncombatants. I also don't tolerate sloppiness; by all accounts you should be dead by now. The next time we meet, you will be. Consider this a gesture of good faith."

She looked over to Willow, Min-Su and Bob, as she sat down in the captain's chair, crossing her legs.

"I'd invite you all to think very carefully about which side you've chosen in this war. Klak's a lost cause but you... I sense potential in all of you. The potential to be something better than this."

[Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla System]
Willow shrugged, non comitally, "I take no sides. I take orders from my covenant. Willow The Gray. Pleasure to meet you. Today's mission is only to court favor with the president. In the future, we may ask for a favor from you as well. The agent you meet may not be I."
Turning back to Klak, raising an eyebrow in recognition of Min-Su, "And with that, my task here is concluded. Shall we discuss business elsewhere. I would rather not have eavesdropping on this conversation. My tower, perhaps?"

<Tanari Prime, Movement for Rights and Freedoms HQ>

For the most part, Aster was tired. Perhaps it would have been advisable to take a leave of absence, as that one party executive member had recently suggested to her, but that wasn’t her style. (And he had probably suggested it for self-serving reasons anyway, the snake, she figured.) Aster always told people that the struggle waited for no one, and she wasn’t going to try and make it wait for her - or so she told herself, anyway. Nevertheless, she would have massively preferred the next few days to be quiet, so as to allow her time to decompress after recent events, but leaders of liberation movements didn’t get quiet days, and so the first item on her agenda the next day was a briefing about a brewing conflict on the Tanari colony of Yari III. Its economy was dominated by mining and a massive spaceport and trading outpost, and so its population was over 40% shifter - maybe even around half, depending on who you asked. The Tanari Confederation sometimes preferred to not have accurate demographic statistics, or preferred to pretend it didn’t, anyway. As one might expect, this led to deeply, deeply polarised local politics and a lot of frustrated shifters.

As she headed into the meeting, Aster very much hoped the executive member who had suggested the leave of absence would not be there. Otherwise, she darkly joked to herself, since she was apparently already on a streak of revolutionary justice, she might just throw him out the window.

-----

<The Vengeance>

Thule’s threat failed to wipe the smug smirk off of Richard’s face. “There’s really no need for that, Captain Thule.” he said, emphasising the last two words in a deliberately aggravating way. “I am here because I want to work with the New Order. I have seen how the Tanari Confederation treats those who are allegedly its own, and I have decided it would benefit from a… fundamental change of systems, so to speak.”

“Is that good enough for you?” he asked, seemingly looking past Thule and into the distance towards, as far as anyone could tell, nothing in particular.

-----

<Vesa Qatoria>

Just as Shepard finished his sentence, Blackout suddenly materialised behind him, now ‘wearing’ his purple outfit. While Shepard was used to it by now, Vekhta’s brain would find it difficult to process his presence and decide whether or not he was, in fact, an odd hallucination.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Complicated business.” he said cheerfully, in fact more cheerfully than Shepard had ever heard him sound before. He looked Vekhta up and down, and walked up to her. “I see you’ve gotten me a gift, Shepard. Ever so thoughtful.”

-----

<A Park on Malchior>

Jones was suspicious, but chose not to say anything - for now, anyway. “As have you.” he said, standing up and tipping his hat. “Farewell, Nadle.” He tossed his remaining bread towards a few nearby ducks, and disappeared off into the distance.

-----

<Tanari Prime>

The several dozen soldiers surrounding the pod instantly readied their weapons, just in case.

“That’s enough.” Luxon barked, her blonde hair blowing in the ‘wind’ created by the still running engines of nearby ships. “Would you like to tell me what your name is and why your ship is, for all intents and purposes, trying to kill Tanari?”


The incoming fighters took evasive maneuvers, but one of the pilots reacted slightly too late, and the lasers tore apart his cockpit and blew off a thruster, wrecking the ship. The other fighters pressed on, continuing to fire at the Malchiorian ship.

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

Several of the helpers were blown away by the hovertank’s fire, but they missed Kane himself. As the other helpers took cover, Kane himself blasted off with his jetpack, and landed on top of the hovertank. He punched down into the turret, and fired lasers in the hopes of hitting the crew.


One of the large jets suddenly pulled away from the bombers and started to fly head-on towards the fighters. As it did so, it began to pulse with a strange sort of energy, and then to emit huge arcs of energy, which swept through the air and extended, seemingly unstoppably, towards the fighters.

-----

[ Battleship Vengeance]

Thule paused for a moment, then let out an exasperated sigh.

"Boy, nothing gets past you, does it?" he replied, before rolling his head towards the master-at-arms. "Come on then, let's not keep the good man waiting."

Moments later, Richard had been escorted to the inner sanctum of Arc Kyydan, the monolithic plasteel doors sliding closed behind him. The red helmet lenses of the PsyTroopers motionlessly standing vigil around the edge of the room were all that served to illuminate it, until Arc Kyydan himself entered from the other end of the hall, suspended as always in the vast life-support vessel that served as his cage. The light level then gradually increased until Richard could clearly make out the outline of the cage, but nothing of the being lurking within.

"Child of Tanar." his voice began, artificial, low, droning. "After the lesson the Emperor inflicted on your people, I could scarcely imagine that one of you might crawl, blackened, out here into the depths of space to stand before me. Yet, here you stand."

His cage slid further forwards, and Richard could observe the faint glow of two red eyes within the viscous fluid of the tank, observing him with laser focus.

"Speak."

---

[ Espiritu Santo Compound, Onassis Spaceport, Vesa Qatoria ]

Shepard bowed his head respectfully as Blackout materialized.

"It is good to see you, my master." he replied before gesturing to Vekhta. "I... believe this young woman is much the same as us. A victim of the machinations of this universe."

"This young woman has a name." retorted Vekhta.

Shepard ignored her. "It would not be unwise for you to... illuminate her, master. Show her the true meaning of power, and of freedom, as you did for me."

---

[ Kanzen Takemikazuchi-style Restaurant, Onassis Spaceport, Vesa Qatoria ]

Or-Lando Williams breathed a sigh of relief. After years of hardship, the restaurant's opening day was going well, and finally things were looking up for him.

The list of difficulties he had had to face were endless. After being convicted of running an illegal restaurant in his own home, he had been forced to flee his homeworld of Malchior, and had taken up life as a cook onboard a Gotti trader vessel. The day then came that the practical jokes and pranks became too much, and he set up shop on Kharabad instead - only for the planet to be soon after conquered by the New Order. The one positive of the occupation was that it had exposed him to the benefits and intricacies of Takemikazuchi cuisine, and when he eventually fled the occupation and arrived at Vesa Qatoria, he knew it was this cuisine he was destined to share with the galaxy.

And the people of Vesa Qatoria were enjoying it - immensely. As Or-Lando surveyed his guests, only one table stood out as less-than-ecstatic - tucked away in the corner, huddled around a small table, were three men. Two of the men were Salem and Juaréz, who Or-Lando knew as enforcers of the local Espiritu Santo Syndiacte. Or-Lando inched closer, observing from behind a pillar - if the men of Espiritu Santo didn't like his food, he could expect the restaurant's opening day to conclude in a firebombing. He focused on the third man - an orange-skinned Darisian, bald, with a short white goatee. Or-Lando watched as he produced a small container of a metallic liquid from his jacket, and slid it across the table to the Espiritu Santo men. He turned his head, hoping to listen in on the conversation.

"New Order poison. Cataxyn. Semi-sentient hunter-killer fluid. Very hard to find this side of the front."

"Your services are appreciated, and you will be compensated accordingly. Are you sure this is undetectable?"

"Well, I haven't tested it myself, if that's what you mean. It'll do the job. Once this is inside Malcovus it'll wire into his nervous system. It'll wait for the perfect moment and then - seize control for just a moment. Make him walk out in front of a car, or open an airlock - whatever it decides is best. No-one will know the difference."

"Whatever it decides?"

"I said what I said. The higher the dose, the more computing power it has to work with. Try and get it all into him, if you can."

Or-Lando pulled away from the pillar, horrified at what he had just heard. At the same time, now that he finally had his restaurant, he wasn't about to start a fight with Espiritu Santo just to save the life of one self-serving politician halfway across the galaxy. He made his way back to the kitchen and began to cook, willing away thoughts of the conspiracy. No, not my place to get involved. This war doesn't concern me. The only thing I need to care about is my restaurant.

[ City Limits, Armechius, Vongola ]

The hologram of Figlio’s file on Yriel Bergstrom played out above the Rider’s wrist. Arwell scrutinised the document closely, instructing his VI to record all he was seeing to commit to memory. There were a few vaguely familiar references throughout the document; companies Arwell had heard of, specialists he’d worked alongside. Then it hit him - there was a pattern. A chain of contacts and companies that all had one thing in common. Arwell was probably one of the only people alive who could recognise that pattern, with his industry knowledge and years in the game. It all centered on one world; Vonilla.

If Arwell’s face gave anything away when the realization hit him, he hoped that Figlio wouldn’t notice it.

“There’s not enough here to say for sure,” Arwell lied. “But if you give me access to your security people remotely, I can work with my people and come up with something - the document is promising, just nothing leaps out.” He hoped his bluff would be enough for Figlio to buy. Arwell had a feeling that he was talking with a desperate man.



[ Lovian System ]

Drake slumped against the airlock door even as it slid open, his armoured bulk spilling into the hangar bay. Swain attended him, stripping off the composite panels that made up the armour suit, peeling away the black rubbery muscle membrane to reveal Drakes skin; blushed angry pink, burnt and filling the chamber with a sickening stench. Swain began to apply analgesics and salves even as Ciro stepped toward her soldier, picking a path through the carnage of Swain’s triage. The Corsair Queen crouched low by Drake, who looked up at his captain fervently. “Sorry mistress. I don’t know who he was, just -” he winced in pain as Swain moved him to better access his battered ribs “ - just he was strong. Took the Arc off in a shuttle.

“I know Drake. No matter - We may yet have hope. Bol managed to get a triangulation of his vector, looks like he was headed to the Outer Rimworlds. Veyelan’s fleet has dropped away back to Liquid Metallicon; I’m not sure she much appreciated my approach. But it was far more exciting no?”

Drake barely managed to nod as he fell unconscious.


Ciro closed the door to her chamber and sighed. She turned and made for the couch, but Deep was sat there already. Ciro laughed at what she assumed was Deep’s serious expression; the crystal man sat with legs and arms crossed.

“Give me a ship.”

“What do you need a ship for? You’re my guest aboard the Gypsy.”

“I’m your prisoner. No, worse, I’m part of your collection,” Deep snapped as he gestured about the room. “If you won’t give me a ship...I’ll… I’ll take yours.”

Ciro laughed again. “You shan’t, but if you’re so desperate for a ship... “ She slinked over to a low drinks cabinet and began making herself a vesper martini. “Then I may be able to get you one. There’s someone who... owes me a favour. Naturally, in return, you’d owe me a favour - a debt even. I brought you back to life.”

“I didn’t much mind being dead. It made quite a nice change really, after 2000 years.”

“Oh, come now. You’re just being petulant.” Ciro plopped down next to Deep on the couch, and rested a lily-white hand on his knee, a stark contrast to the dark blue suit he wore. “Do you want the ship or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” Ciro stood again and pulled what looked like a ouja board from a low marble sideboard. The panel was covered in strange glyphs, ancient symbols that Deep didn’t recognise, even with his vast experience with such matters. Ciro began sliding a finger across the runes, tracing patterns and sigils as arcane as the board itself.

“What are you doing with that?”

“I’m calling a friend. Malak Al-Maut.”


[ Kanzen Takemikazuchi-style Restaurant, Onassis Spaceport, Vesa Qatoria ]

Takemikazuchi cuisine didn’t sit right with Warren W. Willis, but the lady loved it. She’d ordered a platter of cuts of fish - which Willis wasn’t opposed to - but they’d been served on rice, with a variety of pickles and seaweed (who the hell ate seaweed?). He’d really have to insist on the Ranchhand Outback Steak and Grill next time, and Rose-of-Sharon’s delicate tastes be damned. As the latest set of tiny fish-on-rice stacks were trotted out, the proprietor came over, wearing what Willis could only describe as a shit-eating grin.

“Oh Or-Lando! This is just to. die. for. What is this one called?”

Or-Lando’s grin grew, somehow, bigger. “That, M’Lady, is the Or-lando Roll - my own humble take on the Dragon Roll. I use only the freshest electric blue tuna - caught on none other than Nohr Ridge.”

“Oh my, what a delectable flavour!” Rose drawled with southern pomp. Willis rolled his eyes and stood, excusing himself to the bathroom. Willis took the long way round the restaurant, giving himself time away from Or-Lando and the despicable food. The huddled corner table of the restaurant caught Willis’ eye as he performed his lap. The man with the little white goatee locked eyes with Willis - and Willis locked eyes back. He approached the table, and the man didn't break eye contact until it was too late, just as his compatriots made to stand up and leave.

“Hey, uh, do I know you?”

The man with the goatee shook his head. “Nope.”

“Ain’t you Billy’s brother? What, Hank?”

“Nope. Don’t know a hank. Will you please excuse us?”

Willis squinted. He did know him - shit! Back when he ran with Wyatt’s boys, they’d sometimes run drugs out of the system. While that life was far behind Willis, he never forgot a face. Goatee saw the realization spread across Willis’ face even as he reached below the table, bringing up a suppressed submachine gun. Willis dove back across a table, the revolver at his hip in his hand before Goatee had finished raising his weapon. The screams of the restaurant's patrons filled the air before the sounds of gunfire erupted. Willis tipped the table on end, blocking the first burst of submachine gun fire. The two other men at the table dove from the booth, before settling into kung-fu stances. Willis snapped two shots off at Goatee, who ducked into the booth. The restaurant was rapidly emptying as the patrons rushed from their tables to run from the exits. Rose-of-Sharon slid to a crouch next to willis, pulling a silver derringer from her bosom.

“What have you gotten us into now Willis!”

[ Kanzen Restaurant, Onassis Spaceport, Vesa Qatoria ]

Sensing a lull in the gunfight, the orange-skinned chemist made a dash towards the exit, loosing a burst of submachinegun fire towards Willis to keep the latter man's head down. His younger Terugan associate was already waiting for him outside, revving the engine of their dune truck - the chemist jumped in and the two sped away from the restaurant, turning into a nearby street, and disappearing from the plot entirely.

Juaréz and Salem calmly approached Willis even as he fired at them; with swift martial-arts style gestures they deflected the incoming shots away from them, ricocheting them into nearby walls and furniture. The martial art practiced by Espiritu Santo bore a strong resemblance to the Qi-based martial arts practiced across the galaxy, though the warrior-priests instead referred to this inner energy source as holy fire - by focusing this energy into specific points of their body they could protect themselves from even low-calibre rifle rounds, provided their reflexes were up to the task. Put on the full armour of God, Salem thought, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes.

Willis went to reload, but rather than pressing the attack, the two Espiritu Santo men paused; Salem bowed his head in momentary prayer, hoping to refresh the well of holy fire within him; Juaréz calmly extended a palm towards Willis, gesturing for him to halt.

"Warren Willis, and the Madam Rose of Sharon Breaker. No further bloodshed, please."

Or-Lando popped out from the kitchen clutching a sawn-off, pump-action shotgun - Juaréz cast him a dismissive look, and the restaurant owner instead sunk back into the kitchen, defeated. Juaréz then looked to his companion; the two exchanged a silent, knowing glance, before Salem turned and left.

"Madam Breaker, I mean no disrespect, but I do have to remind you that Cally Onassis runs this port." continued Juaréz, turning now to Rose of Sharon. "And as such, you Breaker folk aren't welcome here. Unless you have the means to leave sooner, I'd kindly ask you board the equatorial megatrain when it next passes through - should be in the next hour or so. Next stop is in De Rossi territory, so you'll be safe and sound there."

---

[ Barrett City Spaceport, Malchior IV, some point in the future ]

"Name?"

"Salem."

"Salem...?"

"Just Salem."

"Occupation?"

"Preacher."

"And what's the reason for your visit to Malchior IV?"

Salem smirked.

"To spread the good word. Peace and goodwill."

The customs officer smiled, and stamped Salem's papers.

"Lord knows we could all use a bit more of that nowadays. Welcome to Malchior IV, friend. Enjoy your visit."

Salem slid his papers back into his attaché case, closed it, and made his way out of the spaceport into the city's central plaza... the cataxyn poison stored safely and security inside the wooden cross pendant around his neck.

[Wreck of Malchiorian Battlecruiser, Vonilla Orbit]

Jefferson pulled himself up and slammed the communication device button.

“SOS...SOS…” he croaked. “The Allegiance has fallen. Requesting...reinforcements…”

-

[Battleship Adriatica, Vonilla Orbit]

“No way!” Bob replied, training his runic gun at Sefer’s PsyTrooper avatar. Sefer smirked in response.  

Klak gritted his teeth, the veins popping out of his neck. He seemed to struggle against himself as violet lines of light glowed throughout his body. His rage was palpable, yet he was finally able to contain it. Klak seemingly returned to his normal self, but his internal conflict was nonetheless notable for all those involved. In fact, anyone with any sort of powered attunement, even Blackout, could sense that something strange had happened in the leylines. Min-Su’s eyes, for instance, were fixed on Klak. Although Bob did not have their attunement, he could nonetheless notice something was very wrong with Klak.

Klak forced a smile, and slowly approached Sefer’s PsyTrooper avatar.

“Good to see you too, Sefer, but...the air on Bendu must be affecting your thinking,” he chuckled, still walking towards her. “No one’s falling for your propaganda routine. Willow’s open to working with you but she won’t accept your brainwashing. It looks like you’ll have to get an army to take on all of us next time. Speaking of which…”

Klak’s eyes suddenly began to glow violet, obscuring his sclera. Black and purple flames began to materialize in his right hand, and green runes with Roman numerals appeared in his left hand.

“What makes you think death...will stop me?” he fumed.  

Klak suddenly remembered Canaan’s words regarding the PsyTroopers’ ability to learn. He also remembered one time the Norman told him about restraint. The flames and runes disappeared. Klak’s eyes returned back to normal. He stepped backward, slightly shocked. Klak walked towards Bob, Willow, and Min-Su, and turned to face Sefer.

“I...appreciate the gesture of good will,” Klak said, nodding while adjusting his collar. “In return, I won’t destroy your ship.”

A Malchiorian fleet suddenly arrived from FTL near their location.

“They, on the other hand, might,” Klak taunted. He then sighed, shaking his head. Klak looked at Sefer again, this time with a warm yet concerned visage. “Be seeing you, Emperor Yetzirah. Hopefully in better circumstances. Send my regards to Lilith.”

Klak waved his hands. A portal appeared underneath him, Min-Su, Willow, and Bob. The quartet disappeared.

Klak quickly appeared on board of Malchiorian Battleship Llon. He waved at some startled Malchiorian soldiers, and signaled to them to calm down.

“They’re with me,” he clarified. “Listen, send rescue crews to the wrecked ship. I imagine their backup bridge is online, but they’ll still need help.”

Klak entered another portal, and disappeared. He reappeared near the ruins of the Allegiance, surrounded by a ball of energy. Klak raised his hands and concentrated.

A massive shield began to form above the Allegiance, encasing it in an orb much like Klak’s. The ship’s emergency systems were keeping it afloat, but it was only a matter of time before it would shut down. This ship should give the Malchiorian rescuers enough time to save everyone on board.

Meanwhile, the Vonillan fighters and some of the newly arrived Malchiorian ships started firing at the Adriatica and at Di-Jonn’s ship.

Klak returned to the Llon, sauntering through a portal and up to Willow.

“So, I suppose we should head to your tower, wherever that is,” he said. He then pointed to Min-Su. “The way you looked at them, and the fact that they followed us here...they’re not just a civilian, I take it? They can come too.”

-

[Khafrite, Vonillan Orbit}

Pharaoh Osiris’s eyes widened. His chalice clattered on the ground, wine spilling all over.

“Take us to Qurtmoq,” he stammered. “Then to the capital. Assemble the Council. We have much to discuss.”

-

Servidora, Somewhere in Deep Space

Caiaphus quietly observed the New Order ensigns work while he sat in the Arc chair on the bridge of the Servidora. He began plotting how they would find one of Arc Zyandar’s Vykonian enemies.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden strange feeling. Some strange dark residual interdimensional energy rippled through the cosmos and washed through Caiaphus’s mind. He felt fear, rage, envy, mirth, and even some hints of nostalgia as the energy flourished through his psyche down to his essence. Caiaphus also swore he saw everything freeze for a nanosecond. Yet Caiaphus recognized the source of this bizarre energy: a presence that was nonetheless light years away. And at the same time, elsewhere.

“Klak,” he whispered to himself. Caiaphus’s eyes quickly darted around the room, attempting to see if any of the New Order ensigns sensed anything. Luckily, they were unaware of what just happened.

---

[City Limits, Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio growled.

“That look on your face,” he noted. “I told you not to lie to me, Arwell.”

Figlio clenched his fists.

“Don’t you understand?” he barked. “The Malchiorians hid him somewhere in the galaxy, a place no one else in the FSA knows about! That’s right, I still have spies outside of Vongola Prime. No one in the FSA knows, and rumors are only a handful of people in all of Malchior IV know where my father is! Now why would Klak, the fucking boy scout, hide something from everyone like that, hmm? After the Tanari War, you’d think the whole FSA would cheer about how they imprisoned that evil Dachori! But no, none of them know the truth. Ask yourself, Arwell! Why?! My father has been alive for nearly 2,000 years, Arwell; that’s both of our lifetimes combined, and I’ve been around for over 8 centuries! A man from an ancient time has many secrets. Secrets Klak wants to know.”

Figlio placed one of his hands on his scabbard.

“So please, tell me you’re not lying to me, Arwell,” he growled. “If you know something, anything, tell me the truth. Hate me or adore me, do what you want. But do it honestly.”  

-

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

Some of the tank’s crew members were instantly killed by Kane’s lasers. One of the survivors fired back at Kane, hoping to hit him. Another survivor pulled the pin off of a plasma grenade.

The fighters foolishly began firing at the pulsing ship, hoping to destroy it before it was too late.

Meanwhile, the VPR bombers continued to get closer to Sards.

---

[A Park on Malchior]

Nadle nodded, and made his way to his car. He grabbed his communicator and typed a message to Rain, signalling to him that he was clear to arrive from FTL to Tanari.

---

[Tanari Prime]

“I’m Taloran,” Rain lied in a fake accent. “Taloran Kite. My ship’s AI went haywire! It dumped me in an escape pod and tried to dump me onto your planet!”

The Malchiorian ship spun, successfully dodging some of the other fighters’ lasers. However, it swung directly in the line of fire of another Tanari fighter. The lasers blasted into the Malchiorian ship’s cockpit and blew it open. The ship spun out of control. The Tanari fighters continued firing, and it was blown to smithereens.

[ Deep Space, Eternal Horizon ]

The Eternal Horizon was a sleek chrome tear in the blackness of space. A central fuselage was flanked by two intimidating engine nacelles toward the aft, with the prow of the vessel coming to a dagger-like point. A row of low windows curved along the cockpit of the starship, and Deep stood at those windows, looking out into the nothingness before him.

Malak had taken one look at Deep and decided that giving him a ship was in the interests of “the entertainment this reality afforded him”. Deep resented the implication that he was merely an actor in Malak’s play, but if it meant his release from the Corsair Queen’s clutches, then he would allow the slight. Anyway, the Eternal Horizon was a beautiful ship, like a stealth jet of Old Earth design. Something about the power that the form hinted at struck a chord in Deep.

Now, free and alive once more, Deep wondered where he might go. Closing his outward senses, Deep reached within, attuning himself to the whim of the universe around - and inside - him.

“Computer. Set course for Iontunort.”


[ City Limits of Armechius, Vongola ]


Arwell locked his gaze with Figlio as he finished his tirade, and sighed. “Vonilla. Your father is on Vonilla.”

Silence settled over the glade as Figlio paced back and forward, mulling over Arwell’s revelation.

“Lobodracca maldiblestius!” The rider spat.

Arwell sighed again. “I have the know-how to get him out. But I need personnel. And no doubt, you want someone with me when I get Uteriach out. Perhaps your agent I met - Cassandra? I’m sure I can twist Dallas’ arm for one of his men…Either way, I need full clearance into your security files. I have to know everything I can before I go in. Everything your people know about Bergstrom, everything they have on Uteriach, everything on Vonilla. Is that clear?”



[ Kanzen Restaurant, Onassis Spaceport, Vesa Qatoria ]

Rose of Sharon peeked over the upturned table at the monklike figure addressing her, and squinted. “You sure as God’s grace ain’t one of Cally’s boys… I take it you’re one of these Espiritu Santo gentlemen. Well, I’m not one for stepping on toes…” she said, standing and tucking her derringer back into her bosom. “Come now, Willis. Perhaps we should retire.” Willis stood slowly, placing his antique revolver back in its tooled leather holster. The old diver pulled a wad of notes from the inside pocket of his jacket, and tossed them in the direction of the kitchen, before sidling backwards from the premise, his eyes locked on Juarez the entire time.

Once outside, the dry heat of Onassis Spaceport assailed the couple as they made their way through the bustling streets toward the rail link. Willis sulked silently, and it was Rose of Sharon who broke the silence.

“I don’t much like that Cally is giving host, knowingly or otherwise, to such crooks. Perhaps we should tell Papa…”

Willis gave the blonde woman a sideways glance. “You know he ain’t gonna do shit about it, if you’ll pardon my french. It's his mouthpiece does most the talkin’ about now.”

“Dame Grace is a strong woman. She’s taking the reins.”

“Should be you taking the reins, if you’ll take the mind of an ole’ diver.” Willis had been a Diver for the Breaker family for going on 30 years. Divers would take low ramscoop missions into the upper atmosphere of nearby gas giants to harvest Helium3 - a dangerous job that was heralded as the “New Gold Rush” by some. Willis was one of the best Divers the Breakers had.

“God darn it Willis, I don’t know squat about running the Breaker dynasty. Papa only saw fit to give me schoolin’ on account of your council.”

“Bighorn’s a good man, but shit if he ain’t ole’ fashioned,” Willis said before touching the brim of his hat to Rose of Sharon. “Pardonin’ my french.”

“Then there’s Uncle Buster…”

Willis spat. “Don’t give that lily-livered, good-for-nothing, sanctimonious coot the honour of gracin’ yer tongue. He ain’t worth a damn.”

Rose of Sharon declined to comment on that - and they’d reached the station, anyhow.

The Equatorial Megatrain was a single vast railroad that served the space elevators positioned around the equator of Vesa Qatoria. The “megatrain” was a constantly revolving string of smaller trains that would accelerate and decelerate at astonishingly fast speeds, stabilised by the same technology that operated aboard FTL starships. This meant that trains could be caught from every station, every hour, on the hour - and be at the next station within the hour. Each of the elevators - and by extension, stations - resided in a different baronial family’s territory, and was maintained by the Breaker Dynasty, the largest and most powerful of the old families of the planet. Onassis Spaceport was owned by Cally Onassis, the matriarch of the Onassis shipping corporate family. She had ruled for 22 years - her accomplishments unprecedented. She was well liked and well respected. But Rose of Sharon couldn’t help feel the wool was being pulled over her eyes.

The couple boarded the train a few moments later, and settled into a private first class booth for the three hour journey to Breaker territory.

<Battleship Vengeance>

“The Emperor did not go far enough.” Richard said, knowing it would catch Arc Kyydan’s attention. “There is no such thing as a united Tanari people. I am what is known there as a shifter, and the voices of my people have been suppressed for generations. The Confederation is built on it.”

Richard narrowed his eyes, hoping - probably in vain - to discern some change in Kyydan’s demeanour from his red eyes or even just the stillness (or lack thereof) of the fluid in his tank. “Among my people, my name still carries much weight. At the moment, they believe me dead, but when I return, my stature will only grow. The Emperor, sadly, did not recognise at the time that the dismantling of Allmanism was not enough. The Tanari state is based on upholding spurious hierarchies in the name of irrational, individual fears, and that can produce only evil. The path to building the New Order runs through the oppressed, and I can help you do that.”

A slight chill ran down what passed for Richard’s spine, a mix of fear and excitement, as he realised his gamble had just taken him past the point of no return.

-----

<Vesa Qatoria>

While Blackout could hear Shepard’s speechifying and Vekhta’s indignation, he did not seem very concerned, his mind a million miles away. There was some sort of disturbance in the leylines, a wave of emotion - determination, fear, anger - filling the cosmos. He took it in, recognising a powerful opponent was showing his hand. “Klak Vell of Malchior. Another one of the criminals. You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” he thought.

As the disturbance gradually abated, Blackout’s attention returned to Shepard and Vekhta. At the same time, his appearance seemed to shift slightly - his ‘skin’ becoming more grey and his ‘facial features’ less distinct - in a way that, to anyone who would know what to look for, which thankfully did not include Shepard or Vekhta, would imply a slight loss of control.

“The meaning of power, the meaning of freedom, yes.” he said, almost under his breath. His voice then became louder and deeper - or at least that’s how Vekhta would hear it. “You are an Arc, one of the New Order criminals. You still trust. Tell me why.”

As he said this, Vekhta could feel a powerful force invading her mind, seeking out her memories.

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

Kane suddenly blasted off with his jetpack again, just managing to avoid the laser blast. He fired off several mortars at the tank’s turret as he did, while at the same time, his minions regrouped and pelted the tank with plasma grenades.


The arcs of energy simply incinerated most of the weapons fire as they extended. As they got closer and closer to the fighters, they began scorching them and scrambling their systems.

-----

<Tanari Prime>

The fighters, their target destroyed, retreated back to their base. Once they left, a scavenger ship - a large, semi-automated, mostly hollow ship with a mass of robot arms sticking out of it - arrived on the scene and began to scoop up the remains of the Malchiorian ship into it for analysis.


Anna stared at Rain, her face showing no emotion. A communication device in her pocket chirped, and she wordlessly checked it and put it away again. “Well, Mr. Kite, your ship attacked a Tanari fighter squadron and was destroyed. I’m afraid we’re going to have to hold you in custody until your story can be fully verified.” she said.

“Please step out of the pod.” another soldier barked.

-----

[ Orbit of Geihmurs, Capital world of the Republic of Geihmurs, Azus System ]

Since the ascension of Evangelise Ascheron to the Lurian throne, things had been going well for Adams. His homeworld of Geihmurs had been officially de-occupied, Adams and his maquisard companions had been freed from custody, and there had even been free and fair elections held - a rarity, even before the Lurian invasion. Now, the salvage company he was working for was drawing in a healthy profit breaking down the wreckages of battleships - both Geihmur and Lurian - that had collected in the planet's orbit like so much debris washing up on a beach. He had accrued a sizable debt - over 220,000 galactic credits - purchasing and furnishing a luxury apartment for his wife and daughter, but with just a few more salvage jobs he'd be able to pay it all off.

He edged his salvage mech closer to the hull of a destroyed ship and began to saw through it with his plasma cutter, a white hot line trailing across the surface as he elegantly pulled the servo-arm across it. The hull panel split in half, the two fragments drifting off slowly in opposite directions; Adams was about to launch a pair of tow cables to grab both panels, when he noticed a glowing blue light off in the distance. He thumbed the manual refresh on his mech's hud, thinking it might be a display error - but it was very real, and zooming in on it, he could see it was some kind of spacial distortion - much further away than he had initially guessed, and subsequently far larger. It was a subspace tunnel that had opened above the planet a few hundred kilometres away, facing the planet's surface - in fact, it was so large that Adams could see it was casting a shadow on the southern continent.

And then a flash of cobalt blue with the mass of a small inner belt planetoid, travelling at a measurable percentage of the speed of light, shot out of the tunnel and burst out of the other side of the planet before Adams' eyes even had the chance to register it. The surface of Geihmurs shattered, instantly, the atmosphere burst - the planet ruptured apart, fragmented, blown apart by a shock-wave that swept out from the core of it, and as it rose up to meet Adams only the only thought that served to comfort him in his final moments was the knowledge that his family had been vaporized so instantly that it had spared them any and all suffering.

---

[ Kurosh System, Suspected origin point of the Geihmur attack ]

Two hours after the attack, a unified FSA fleet had arrived at Kurosh, and found absolutely nothing.

Within the briefing room of the Lurian battleship Erwin Messer, Captain Otto Basilisk sat at the head of a long table, his senior command crew gathered around him. To say that the mood was somber was an understatement; even hardened military men like Captain Basilisk found themselves shaken to the core by the sheer violence that had unfolded mere hours ago.

"I need... options." announced Basilisk, addressing his senior staff. "I need analysis."

"They targeted Geihmurs," began Lt Cdr Hans Vython, the ship's tactical officer, "With an interstellar railgun. Something capable of firing a sublight projectile through a stable end-to-end subspace rift."

"A modified Semovente-class?"

Vython shook his head. "Semoventes can't planet-crack. The New Order has never possessed this kind of firepower before. Factoring in the power generation requirements, as well as the sheer size the railgun would need to be to achieve this level of acceleration, I think we're looking at some kind of FTL-equipped battle-station, at the very least."

Basilisk shook his head. "I respect your opinion, Lieutenant Commander, but I don't know that it necessarily lines up with my understanding of Schrader's third law of FTL dynamics. Even with the most efficient superconductors available, that kind of acceleration would produce the equivalent of a small sun in terms of heat. You can't jump to FTL with that much thermal energy - you'll disintegrate as soon as you hit the subspace layer. You're saying they dissipated that much heat in just two hours?"

"Actually, Captain, my suspicion is that they don't need to." replied Vython, bringing up an image of the subspace rift over Geihmurs on the display at the centre of the table. "I suspect they're leveraging Cold FTL technology. It's highly inefficient, but it provides far higher tolerances for thermal ingress into the subspace layer. It's a technology we've always wanted to get out hands on, but until now it's been a closely kept secret... of the Vykonians."

Captain Basilisk slumped back in his chair. "And now the puzzle pieces are all fitting together. Sefer conquers an entire race just to assimilate one single piece of technology - and now she has a planet-killer." he replied, closing his eyes. "God... God help us."

---

[ Battle Fortress Narayanastra, Asukara System, New Order territory ]

"Left blade cooling bank, A3, 98% thermal saturation. A4, 92% thermal saturation. A2, 84% thermal saturation. Extend heat regulation rods AR1 and AR2 to compensate. Right blade cooling bank, 92%-"

Arc Isha paused.

"Danssen, mouth closed when you're chewing."

Daniel Danssen grinned, still noisily chewing on a piece of gum. The fiftysomething business executive was dressed in a charcoal grey suit, a white shirt with a popped collar, and a loose silk scarf hanging over his shoulders. He was built ex-military style, barely fitting in his stylishly cut suit; his salt-and-pepper hair was slicked neatly back over his head. He carried on chewing with his mouth open, hands in his pockets, as he gleefully observed the goings on of the Narayanastra's fire control bridge. Arc Isha - the very image of the Emperor she was cloned from, save for her slightly neater shoulder-length hair and willingness to actually wear correct military uniform, stood at a pair of consoles; the vast expanse of the fire control bridge was spread out before her like an opera house, hundreds of technicians and officers on differing floors attending to every aspect of the post-fire cooldown process.

"Right blade, A4, 102% thermal saturation. We're seeing fragmentation in the ceramic interface layer. A4 control team, address immediately."

"One hell of a weapon you've built." remarked Danssen. "Cooling the damn thing down after firing's a bigger challenge than actually shooting it."

"And, what, you'd rather it was the other way round?" retorted Isha, incredulous. Danssen considered the question.

"Well, nah, s'pose not. Still."

Isha tapped away at her consoles, sending off new orders to some distant corner of the massive bridge.

"I'm still not quite sure why you're here, Danssen."

"My corporation's the one that made the superconductors that make your little planet-buster go pew pew. It's incumbent on me to attend and make sure Monarch ElectroDynamics products perform to specification and as advertised."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure Graff Heyerdahl's going to be overjoyed when he discovers one of his subsidiaries is developing components for the New Order."

"I'm sure he will be. Hopefully so overjoyed he has a heart attack and croaks it. That old man's sat on the throne of the Heyerdahl corporation for too long - but the way I see it is, the throne's there for the taking. And this is how I'm gonna take it. Speaking of which, where's Lilith?"

Isha paused, and slowly turned, a baffled look on her face.

"Lilith?"

"Lilith Heyerdahl. I think her and I might get to being good friends, if you catch my drift." replied Danssen, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Her and I got on like a house on fire last time we met."

Isha scratched her forehead. "I'm sorry, which Lilith are we currently talking about? 'Married to the Emperor' Lilith Heyerdahl? 'Known Homosexual' Lilith Heyerdahl?"

"Try 'Boss's Niece' Lilith Heyerdahl. It's simply the nature of the game I'm playing, Isha. That man's stood on my neck my whole life, and now I'm taking everything from him, piece by piece."

"So - so let me get this straight - you betrayed the Heyerdahl corporation, deserted the Free States themselves, are actively conspiring with the New Order, have helped develop a planet-busting weapon of mass destruction, all because you think Lilith will sleep with you? And the only reason you want to sleep with her is because she's a distant blood relative of your boss, who you hate?"

"That's... that's about it."

"Are you aware you're about the shittest villain I've ever heard of?"

Before Danssen could respond, a tone sounded throughout the bridge. Isha returned to her console, as the voice of a New Order officer played through it.

"My Lord, cooling process has stabilized and we are now dissipating 2-8-5 thermal units per hour. Estimated return to firing capacity within 14 solar cycles. Shall we begin reloading procedures?"

Why bother, thought Arc Isha, smirking. If Danssen's a representative example of the Free States, I can think of a far easier way to win this war.

---

[ Battleship Vengeance ]

Arc Kyydan considered Richard's words carefully.

"You're proposing that the Order lend you assistance in assuming control over the Confederacy, and in exchange, you rule in a manner that is agreeable with our political ideology. An alliance of convenience."

Arc Kyydan edged slightly closer, the glare of his red eyes intensifying.

"I will provide some additional context for these negotiations; the New Order now possesses the ability to destroy entire worlds, and to do so without notice or forewarning. Our intention in developing this capacity was always that Tanar would be the initial test target, but fortunately for your people, your arrival onboard this ship has earned your world a stay of execution. A different target has been selected, and I suspect by now has already been destroyed. But, congratulations are in order; already you have saved more Tanari lives than anyone else in recorded history."

Arc Kyydan paused, observing Richard's reaction.

"Let me be perfectly clear, though: the Emperor does not possesses an optimistic appraisal of the Confederacy's potential to evolve and adapt. We will provide assistance to your cause, but if you are unable to seize control, or unable to govern effectively, I will defer fully to the Emperor's judgment on the matter. And unlike the Emperor... I will go far enough."

---

[ Vesa Qatoria ]

Vekhta screamed as Blackout invaded her mind - and he saw it all - her memories, both the real and the fake, and the final form of the New Order; an entire galaxy united under Sefer, with no war, no suffering, no pain, no loss, no fear.

A galaxy that was everything Blackout wasn't. As incomprehensible to him as light was to the shadow cast by it.

---

[ Battleship Adriatica ]

The PsyTrooper jerked forwards as Sefer left her body, coughing up a wad of blood that splashed out across the floor as she fell face-first into it. She scrambled to her feet, disorientated, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth, looking down at the palms of her mechanical hands.

PsyTroopers lacked individuality, but not because they lacked the potential for it; instead, it was sealed away by psychic blocks - blocks that Sefer had torn away to inhabit this PsyTrooper's body. The PsyTrooper didn't know whether it was intentional or not - all she knew was that it had happened, and how she was a person, and a she, not an it.

She looked down to Arc Valorus's body, and her own helmet which Sefer had tossed to the floor beside it. She picked it up, stared at it, then painted a line of her own blood down one side of it, crossing over the lens like a scar. She slid the helmet back on, sealing it back to the rest of her armor with a hermetic hiss. HUD information flooded back to her; she could see the full schematics of the ship she was on - the Adriatica.

Adriatica. The ship had a name, but not her. Adria. That would be her name.

PsyCommander Adria made her way over to the navigation console, as Captain Di-Jonn's message was broadcast to all New Order ships calling for an immediate retreat. The Pacifica and Agathon shot away into subspace, and as Adria keyed in the appropriate co-ordinates, the Adriatica followed in hot pursuit; and then, something resembling peace returned to the moon of Vonilla.

[Malchiorian Battleship Lion]

As Klak portalled the group to the Lion, and vanished again, Willow took a moment to scribble a few notes in a book tucked away in her robes and appreciate the differences between his form of quick travel and her own. Both had advantages and disadvantages, and she wished to learn a bit more of Klaks magics later. This did not make her nauseous like her own spell did, thankfully, but there was a disorientation. With her spells, she always knew exactly where she was, even if she'd never been, but this had her a bit bewildered. She'd been pulled through with her magics by other members of the Covenant before, and not faced this strange feeling of displacement.

Then she took time to consider the flames and alphabetic numerals the prodigious battle caster had displayed, and wondered what those were about. The young malchiorian was full of mysteries. Terrans, terugans, tanari, z'traanites and their progeny. So many different cultures and abilities. The thought spurred flames of yearning of learning.

As President Klak returned, she took note of the portalling technique from an outside perspective, in hopes of learning how to do so later. Smiling warmly, Willow replied to his acceptance.

"Of course, thank you for your time. I can see you are very busy. A few things before we go. This way I travel is a little different than yours, and I know not how it may affect your constitution, but it tends to make me a little sick, so you will pardon the results on the other side. Secondly, I will be taking us to a place outside conventional space. If you wish to return here, you must know the spells I use, and the specific location, to attempt any other way will be disastrous. I say this to protect you, not threaten. Thirdly the tomes on the shelves there are written in a magically coded cypher, so their knowledge wont be easily taken, not that I suspect you a thief, but precautions and such. Penultimately, when I complete my spell, you will have to run through the circle within a mere six seconds before it disperses. Finally, the young lady's identity is not for me to divulge, but I do see what you are doing there."

That last line was delivered turning her gaze at Min-Su, Willow's eyes glowing mildly purple with an arcane glimmer. With the rules laid out, the wizard takes out a piece of high quality chalk and makes a very intricate circle of runes and glyphs. Upon completing the last one, the chalk flares to a glowing white as Willow steps through and vanishes.

[Tower of Willow the Grey]

Reappearing in a lavish sitting room ringed with floor to ceiling shelves of various books

Shelf Contents:

There are several couches, chairs, and tables to accommodate up to twenty eight people comfortably, or fifty with a bit of discomfort. The walls are dotted periodically with torches of arcane fire in sconces. The flames dance, and yet give off the same light at all time, and dispersing no heat, the room maintained at a very comfortable temperature.

Shortly after, assumedly Klak, Min-Su, and possibly Bob, follow through to the scene, Willow taking up a seat in a high backed chair with a side table, a coffee table with a few thicker books open to pages, book marks placed on the pages.

Open books cliff notes:

"Have a seat and we can begin our talk."

<Tanari Prime, Movement for Rights and Freedoms HQ>

Aster and the other executive members sat down around a long conference table, at the head of which was sat the chair of the committee, a frail-looking man wearing what looked like a monocle named Charles, who reminded Aster of David Robert Jones in some ways. As a well-respected and unambitious member of the executive committee, all the boring administrative tasks fell to him almost naturally. Next to him stood Mett, a tall, thin man with heterochromia and noticeable scarring who worked for one of the MRF-affiliated shifter trade unions on Yari III. Meanwhile, opposite Aster sat two of her staunchest, and pettiest opponents on the executive - Freya, a former trade unionist, and Leonard, the ‘philosopher’ (Aster was familiar with his work and tended to add scare quotes in her head) who had previously suggested the leave of absence.

“I call this extraordinary meeting to order.” Charles mumbled. “There is only one item on the agenda, namely the situation on Yari III. Mett will hereby address the committee.”

Mett coughed. “Thank you, Mr. Chair. As some of you may know, the situation of our people on Yari III is, quite simply, not good.” he said, projecting utmost, almost eerie serenity as he spoke. “The population is split right down the middle between shifters and Stäbils, but the post-Allmanite elements have an iron grip on power. They have gerrymandered themselves into a supermajority in the legislature, locking out both us and the Stäbil liberals, and use the central role of Yari III in the Confederate economy as an excuse to not proceed with crucial democratic and labour rights reforms.”

“There is anger on the ground, for good reason. Radical factions on both sides are gaining support. Our elections are coming in just a few weeks. There’s a real chance of breaking the gerrymander this time round if we can maintain turnout, and I think it would benefit us if a well-respected figure of the movement turned up to drum up support and show people they’re not alone.” he concluded.

“How about Aster? She is the most prominent, and wisest of us, and we must surely put all our resources into maintaining momentum on Yari.” Freya said calmly to a murmur of agreement. “And she, of course, has experience clamping down on the radicals.” she added, a little more snidely.

The ploy was simple, yet elegant, and Aster almost respected it. Everyone figured Mett was probably deliberately over-optimistic about the local MRF’s electoral prospects, and that Yari was, politically speaking, a powderkeg. If that powderkeg didn’t go off, that would be good. But if it did, which was likely, Freya and Leonard figured it would be better if it happened on Aster’s watch, and that there was no easy way for her to refuse.

“Very well.” Aster said after a moment’s hesitation.

-----

<Battleship Vengeance>

“The Emperor will be proven wrong, for my people can overcome all.” Richard said, smirking. He did a slight bow to show respect.

-----

<Vesa Qatoria>

Blackout took in the concept of the New Order. How could a world with no pain, suffering, loss or fear fail to appeal to anyone, at least in theory? Of course, that was but theory. In practice, as far as he was concerned, such a thing was an impossible, incomprehensible delusion - not only did such a thing always have to be built through suffering in the first place, it also did not contain the Voids. Even in such a world, he would have already lost all that had mattered to him. And so, as the tale went, he was happy not just to walk away from Omelas, but to ensure it would not come to exist.

He decided to take a walk through Vekhta’s real memories, looking for any dramatic or traumatic events.

-----

<Bendu System>

At the far edge of the Bendu system, a cloaked Tanari ship had recently parked itself on the dark side of one moon, casually scanning for any anomalies.

“And there is no way to scan through the storm?” said Sylen Kurze, leader of the task force and newly minted captain of the ship.

“No, sir. Definitely not with this ship’s level of tech. Not unless we get much closer to Bendu, and that’s obviously not happening.” replied his science officer, a slight Asian-looking woman, pointing to the rather large number of New Order ships flying back and forth and constructing orbital fortifications they could see on their long-range scan.

“Bloody budget cuts.” Sylen said with the unmistakable tone of a man who had seen everything during his service and was happy to let you know all about it. Some of his task force were probably quite taken aback upon finding out how boring a secret intelligence mission was, and while part of him welcomed the mundaneness of it, another part couldn’t help but think about the days of Allman, when at least money was no object. “Put all our power into scanning the shipyards and docking facilities for now. If we’d gotten here earlier, we might have seen whatever they needed them for leave, but we could still glean something about its specifications.”

-----

<Tanari Prime>

Microphone in hand, Silver Eachan walked onto a stage placed in the centre of a beautiful park to some applause and chanting from the crowd. He stood under several large green and blue banners, each of them featuring either the acronym ‘CUSP’ or a pithy, meaningless slogan. CUSP stood for Confederates United for Solidarity and Prosperity - the political party Eachan formed, which served as a flag of convenience for moderate and 'moderate' defectors from the Allman regime and those simply seeking proximity to power.

“Children of Tanar!” he yelled. “The land is strong. We have recovered strongly from the humiliations dealt to us by Allman and Sefer Yetzirah!”

As he droned on, an aide suddenly ran onto the stage and whispered into Eachan’s ear, informing him of the ‘coup’ against Gabriel Ascheron. The stunned President walked off the stage, much to the shock of the crowd and the glee of the reporters covering the rally, leaving some hapless government minister to salvage the event.

-----

<Tanari News Broadcast>

“Eachan’s rally was supposed to ‘reboot’ his campaign.” The smirking Tanari shock-jock pundit said into the camera. “And yet, he just wanders off his stage, and goes into ‘seclusion’ to ‘deliberate’ about something or other, as we keep hearing. Well, I for one sympathise with President Eachan. Every school kid in the Confederation has had to bullshit their way through a presentation when they haven’t done their homework, and I’m sure the President can at least work his way up to that stage soon.”

As the audience laughed, another pundit began to explain the latest opinion poll carried out across the Confederation. According to it, Eachan would receive 42.2% support if the presidential election were held tomorrow, trailing behind the Liberal candidate with 55.9%. If a hypothetical MRF candidate were included (the party’s decision was to be announced after the elections on Yari III, something Aster had been raked over the coals for by the media), however, they would take a very large amount of votes away from the Liberal and a much smaller amount from Eachan, giving the President a fighting chance.

[ Espiritu Santo Compound, Vesa Qatoria ]

As Blackout dove through her memories, he saw everything.

He saw the Yuzar; a powerful but peaceful people, devoid of any delusions of empire, committed solely to the cause of peace and justice throughout the galaxy. A hundred races and peoples united under the rule of a fair and wise king, ruling from his palace on Bendu. He saw the king's daughters sparring endlessly in the courtyard; the blonde-haired Arkhan and the black-haired Vekhta, exactly matched in every way - each unable to get an advantage over the other. Perfect rivals, and best friends.

And then, he saw Arkhan and Vekhta kneeling before the royal court, accepting their sacred task; as their forefathers had fought back the Dachori, and their forefathers' fathers had battled the Kanos Jai, they too would venture into the unknown to end the rising evil of the New Order. He saw the two sisters - generals - fighting side-by-side, leading an army of thinking machines against the forces of the New Order, cutting a swathe through to the heart of it.

He saw them fight Sefer, dueling in precise unison; each opening the Emperor saw in Vekhta immediately covered by Arkhan, each opening seen in Arkhan immediately covered by Vekhta. They fought with mathematical precision, drawing on years of training and instinct; the orange glow of their sabers clashing with the red glow of the blade of Avalon, again, and again, and again. They pushed Sefer back, the Emperor's trademark smirk nowhere to be seen as she struggled against their onslaught, outmatched, outmaneuvered, outnumbered. They fought valiantly. They fought perfectly. And they lost.

He saw Arkhan drop to the floor, dead. He saw Vekhta, one arm missing, cradling her sister's lifeless body. He saw the Yuzar fall, their own thinking machines turned against them, their cities burned to glass. He saw Gaelia burn. He saw Vortassis burn. He saw Rhaqan burn. He saw the noble king conducting one last spiritual sermon for the well-being of his people before every last trace of civilization on Bendu was washed away in a wave of nuclear fire, the Yuzar disappearing into the night. He saw a once-proud civilization reduced to just a handful of stragglers, and a once-proud dynasty reduced to a reprogrammed, disfigured slave with a mechanical red right hand.

He saw hatred. He saw such perfect hatred.

---

[ New Order holo-meeting ]

"The first test of the Narayanastra was... successful." reported Arc Isha, distracted by the unsightly appearance of Arc Zabaton, and confused as to the reason for his presence at such a high-level discussion. "At current heat dissipation rates, we'll be ready to fire again in two weeks."

"That is certainly good news." replied Di-Jonn Massa, the blue-skinned captain of the Pacifica. Ordinarily, a non-arc such as Di-Jonn would never be granted access to a meeting such as this, but given Arc Valorus's untimely demise, Di-Jonn was now the ranking officer of Battlegroup Adriatica. The battlegroup was one of the most important fleets in the New Order navy - not to mention, one of the few with an attached PsyTrooper regiment. Di-Jonn made no apologies for his presence at the meeting, and stood confidently, his arms folded behind his back. "Given this new weapon and the increasing numbers of PsyTroopers at our disposal, we have the clear upper hand in this war."

"There is no place for overconfidence in the New Order." retorted Arc Jinzo, the single monocular lens of the cyborg's head zooming in on Di-Jonn, who cast a foul look in response.

"Consult your memory banks, machine, and you'll find I asserted no such thing."

"Enough." interrupted Arc Plutus, a silver-skinned syntethic being resembling an android, but who was in truth far closer to a golem than any man-made mechanical construct. "You were not called here to trade blows - you were called here to serve. Captain Massa is right in that we do enjoy an advantage in this war, but it is one that we must work actively to maintain. Arc Isha, I am dissatisfied with the current turnaround time of the Narayanastra weapon. My calculations predict we can improve this."

Arc Isha considered her words carefully. "Please send me your calculations. I'll see what I can do."

Arc Plutus nodded his head respectfully. "And Arc Zabaton... I have a task uniquely suited to your talents. In a few days we will know the outcome of the Free States' election. When we do... I want you to track down whoever it is that the Free States have deemed fit to serve as their leader. I want you to remind the Free States just how vulnerable they are. And I want you to make it as messy as possible."

---

[ Battleship Vengeance ]

"Very well." replied Arc Kyydan, his cage sliding backwards into the gloom. "You shall have... our support."

OOS: Start remembering what you read  

[Somewhere on the Planet Xilnara c. 1756 BR]

The warrior was young, at least for his species. Far too young to be in a situation like this.

He made another attempt to climb out of the pit but found himself falling down again, hitting the muddy ground below him. He grunted and looked to his side, the sunlight revealing the mud that slid down his armor's shoulder pads. The warrior flipped back and punched the ground angrily. How could he be so stupid? Why did he split off from his group? His unit's Primas would be livid, assuming he would even get out of this in one piece.

Suddenly, the ground at the end of the pit began to quake. The warrior screamed as the earth opened, a black abyss swallowing him. Surely, he would meet the gods soon, and be found wanting.

But the warrior's woeful worries were waved away when he realized he wasn't dead. Instead, he found himself in front of glowing lights in a pitch-black room. He limped towards the lights. Suddenly, he began to see images of his unit. He shouted at them, hoping to gain their attention, but realized they could not hear him.

To his side, he saw visions of his homeworld, and everything and everyone on it. He saw countless more worlds, image after image arranged like a gallery. Undistorted. No overlap. No confusion.

Was he staring at the universe itself?

But before the warrior could ascertain what he was looking at, the images all disappeared. He found himself alone again in a grassy field, outside of the jungle. His unit walked up to him.

"Private Uteriach! Where were you?" the Primas shouted in Old Dachori.

"I'm...sorry, I thought I saw something strange," the young Uteriach replied, befuddled. "I apologize, Primas."

"Get back to formation, NOW!" the Primas barked. Uteriach complied, forcing himself not to think about what he just witnessed. The Riders marched in formation back to their nearby camp.

---

[Interrogation Room #????, Undisclosed Location, Malchior IV]

Hercules Splendor rolled his eyes as an agent forced him to sit down in front of a scanner.

“This is so bloody unnecessary,” he groaned. “I told you, I didn’t defect. I just needed a moment to process Ross’s death. I then decided to talk to Dallas Dalton about the Vongolan mission.”

“Sure, we believe you,” Nadle assured as he stepped up to the other side of the scanner. A blue screen shimmered. It displayed a holographic x-ray of Hercules and detailed his vital signs. “But, you know, just to be safe.”

“He was asking about Uteriach,” Hercules revealed. Nadle froze, eyes widened.

“What?” Nadle gasped, stepping away from the scanner.

“He’s convinced Uteriach is alive. I told him it was just bad Vongolan intel, standard disinfo to keep the commies in line,” Hercules explained. “Either way, he’s concerned about what this will do to the war. And with Ascheron’s death…”

“You’re concerned that Uteriach re-appearing will give the VPR a boost, and maybe inspire a few of Gabriel’s loyalists in turn,” Nadle replied. “I can assure you the latter won’t happen. We have reports that Evangelise is starting to purge people. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose. This is why, regardless of whether Uteriach or Figlio is in charge of the VPR, the mission stays the same.”

“Is Uteriach alive, Nadle?” Hercules inquired. “If so, maybe we can use him to take down whatever Sefer’s building on Bendu. Offer the man a deal.”

“Herc,” Nadle sighed, returning to the scanner. “If he were alive, I doubt he’d take the deal. But any more information is on a need-to-know basis, agent. You haven’t the clearance level just yet.”

“And Ross? Did he have the clearance level?” Hercules spat.

“That’s not fair, Agent Splendor,” Nadle chided. Hercules sat back angrily as Nadle and another agent viewed the results of the scan, attempting to figure out if Hercules was lying.

It was clean. Then again, Hercules was trained to lie like a child was trained to speak.

“All clear,’ the agent informed Hercules. Hercules smiled, then stood up, adjusting his coat.

“I’ll be in my office,” he muttered, then walked out. Nadle made a mental note to increase security around Uteriach, just in case.

-

[Outside FSA HQ, Malchior IV, sometime after the Malchiorian meeting with Xazari reps]

A news reporter stood in front of the FSA’s HQ, calmly reciting the latest update.

“It’s a buzz here at the FSA’s Assembly as candidates for Secretary-General work into the 11th hour to obtain all the votes they need to win. Tomorrow’s election will determine who will be one of the FSA’s leader, a position that although highly coveted, comes with tremendous responsibility as the war rages on. Indeed, unconfirmed reports of New Order superweapons, coupled with the recent events in Luria, tell us that the new Secretary-General will have to hit the ground running once they assume office.

But the race is heating up. Recently, Lijzhora of Byron dropped out of the race and endorsed Gaius Malcovus. That leaves Malcovus, Evangelise Ascheron, and Blake Olivo Krieger in the running. Experts are pointing to the likelihood that no one will reach the majority threshold, forcing a second round of voting. Some even believe the race will require a second day of runoffs. Either way, the eyes of the galaxy, maybe even the New Order, are on this building as we wait for the delegates from each FSA world to vote.”

Several blocks away, Gaius Malcovus calmly strolled through the city square (credit to DylanPierpoint). He often liked taking breaks from busy days by taking short walks around the city. It was a good way to decompress, especially after such a packed week.

Gaius was flanked by two hulking Pasajem guards (credit to Naughty Dog) clad in armor and cradling rifles. The guards would have usually been wearing standard military uniforms, but they had to take extra precautions for this week. Gaius hoped that it would be the first of many weeks.

Little did he know that his guards were about to be put to the test.

---

[Tanari Prime]

Rain raised an arm up, noticeably not raising up the other. In fact, he used this unseen arm to angle the pistol, inching his finger close to the trigger. His blinked twice as he glanced at the soldiers around him, calculating his next move. He winced, realizing he was outgunned.

“Come on now! I’m just an innocent spacer!” he decried. “Honest, just please let me go! I’m missing the mining run on Zecco!”

---

[Lovian System, Ciro’s Ship]

Ciro’s ship suddenly received a notification that Pirate Lord Ozar was trying to contact them for a holo-call.

---

[City Limits of Armechius, Vongola]

Figlio sighed, then nodded and smiled.

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “You get access to everything on Bergstrom, Uteriach, and Vonilla. But nothing more. A token of appreciation for your honesty.”

Figlio walked back up to Arwell.

“Cassandra will go with you,” he affirmed. “You can take one of Dallas’s men, but I think we need insurance for the both of us. You know as well as I do that the Malchiorians probably have my father in some sort of fortress. We still have a few off-world accounts. Untraceable. If we hire a few mercenaries, maybe grease the hands of a Pirate Lord, we have enough people as part of our team. I have a few people in mind. They won’t be able to reveal too much information about our plan if they are compromised because we won’t give them all of the details. Hell, the Malchiorians won’t know who hired them in the first place. Cassandra, meanwhile, has a self destruct mechanism in case she’s ever caught. I advise you to prepare accordingly as well.”

Figlio bared a toothy smile.

“You will have a small army, logistical support, and the intelligence you desire. I will have my father. Do we have a deal?”

He reached his arm out towards Arwell to shake it, and perhaps even help him up off the ground (given that he was sitting in front of a tree).

-

[Battle of Sards, Vongola]

The mortars blasted part of the tank’s cannons. The rebels’ plasma grenades all hit their mark and consumed the vehicle--along with all those inside--in a brilliant blue blaze.
The pilots of the fighters yelled in confusion as their systems scrambled and sputtered. One of the fighters spun out of control and crashed into a nearby building. The other pilot screamed as his ship was incinerated by the pulsing energy.

But the bombing run continued to approach unabated, inching closer and closer to Sards.

---

[Battleship Llon/Vonillan Orbit]

The crews of the Malchiorian fleet were able to rescue everyone that was on the remnants of the Allegiance. They assisted the Vonillans in the cleanup. The fleet then sent a status report to the space station along with apologies for the inconvenience. The Admiral informed both the Station Chief, the Vonillan leadership, and the Aloussian ambassador from earlier that President Klak would speak to them again soon.

---

[Tower of Willow the Grey]

Klak and Bob had followed Willow (and hopefully Min-Su did so too if Paws agrees with it), and promptly stepped out of the circle.

Bob read one of the spines of the books, realizing it was written in an ancient tongue he learned about many years ago on an archaeological dig.

“I didn’t think they published books in Nar-Zath’aani anymore, Willow,” he gasped in amazement.

Klak meanwhile reached for the book on interdimensional travel and began to scan its contents.

“Before they left to form their intergalactic wall, Veras taught me a few things,” Klak explained. “Anyway, what did you want to talk about, Willow?”

---

[Battlecruiser Bahar, Somewhere Near the Iotunort System]

A New Order ensign gulped as he approached the quarters of Arc Jeriko. He hesitated at first, then finally pressed the button. The door whooshed open, and the ensign was met with a symphony that reverberated throughout the room. Arc Jeriko stood in front of the speakers, waving his arms as though he were conducting an invisible orchestra.

The ensign stammered out the New Order salute. Arc Jeriko stopped his waving, and the music seemingly paused on its own.

“My Arc,” the ensign continued to stammer. “The FSA has defeated our force at Base Theta”

Arc Jeriko turned around with a glare. The ensign shivered slightly but was shocked when the adamah smiled.

“Minor setback!” the Arc bellowed. “We’ll continue our assault somewhere else! The planet will be taken for the New Order soon. Emperor Yetzirah will be pleased! But I suppose getting the Zrujim’s secrets will require a personal touch.”

The music resumed and began to swell as Arc Jeriko smiled. He began wildly waving his arms to the tune of the music. He stopped, but the music continued, louder this time. Arc Jeriko then burst into sinister laughter that matched the symphony’s intensity.

[ City Square, Malchior IV ]

As Malcovius made his way through the city square, he noticed a small but peaceful rally was being held in support of Evangelise Ascheron. Lurian expats were speaking, as well as some Malchiorian veterans who felt the FSA's stance on the war was too pacifistic and that more direct action was required. In response, a larger counter-protest had been organised, composed of many groups critical of the AKD - including a large number of Wojteki refugees and their descendants who had fled during the Lurian invasion and had come to live on Malchior. One of the protesters stood nervously at the edge of the crowd - a young man, looking over his shoulder as Malcovius walked past. His name was Xawel, a Wojteki citizen who moved to Malchior originally to study the ways of political science, but unfortunately, had instead ended up studying the ways of being a terrorist.

He slid a machine pistol from his parka and fired at Malcovius. Screams rang out throughout the city center. One of Malcovius's guards was hit in the shoulder, but dove onto Gaius to protect him, shielding him with his own armored body. Xawel fired wildly, loosing a salvo of high-speed rounds that sparked off the guard's armor and threw up clouds of vaporized cement as they hit the ground around him, like beads of hail smashing down into a puddle. A police officer emerged from the crowd and grabbed Xawel, throwing him to the ground, struggling with him. Xawel's eyes widened as he realized the police officer was the very same man who, just hours ago, had paid him to kill Malcovius - but that knowledge would do him no good. A small device concealed on the inside of the officer's wrist injected Xawel with a critical dose of cataxyn poison, and within seconds his nervous system had been reprogrammed by the fluid.

Xawel turned his machine pistol on himself and squeezed on the trigger without even taking it off full-auto first.

The 'police officer' recoiled backwards, apparently horrified - then collected himself. He ran over to Malcovius and extended a hand towards him to help him up off the floor - the deadly cataxyn stinger hidden inside the cuff of his shirt.

"Mr Malcovius, we need to get you out of here and to a secure location. Come with me." he said, extending his hand further towards Gaius...

[Tower of Willow the Grey]

As the pair(or trio) take their seats and browse Willows books, she pulls a thick manila folder from the folds of her seat, thumbing through it, looking for a particular document within. Noting the book Bob had picked out, she replies with a distinct shift in accent, tone, and pitch. While previously she may have come off as welcoming, warm, bubbly, she now speaks with a seriousness and even a little sinister panache.

"That's because they don't. I recovered that one from several shell organizations worth of shuffling, estates being foreclosed, and a bloody civil war. It's been quite some time since the language has been used in print. A shame really, it was so artful a language. As for the matter at hand. I need help recovering an item that is currently beyond the reach of my contemporaries grasp. In one of the FSA's aligned partner worlds, Hy'dorel, there is a group of... Well some would call them scientists, others mad men, and most crack pots. They call themselves The Division. They've been toiling away on a device. It's the size of a room. Very glowy, very sparky, very showy, from the information we've gathered. In the center a series of three concentrical rings. The outer most being silver, then gold, and the innermost is platinum. These rings orbit another mass in the center, of what material, we don't know. Our agent was killed before gaining that information. The Division employs a multitude of elite, non magical mercenaries. Each trained to take down anyone with any sort of magical ability on sight. The entire complex is centered in Dead Magic zone, so we can't get in the easy way. No spells, runes, glyphs, or supernatural abilities work while in this five click zone."

Taking a breath, she finds the part of the dossier she'd been thumbing for. An series aerial photographs of the Hy'Dorel. First of an entire continent, then roughly a country, then a city at night glowing with lit streets with an odd blank circle to the north eastern side, another shot of the same area, during the day. The area that was blanked out at night is a single building taking up five kilometers of real estate. Ringed with barbed wire fences, guards on patrol with heavy artillery, and abominations roaming about, amalgamations of teeth, claws and ferocity.

"I am not asking you, personally, to obtain this. We are hoping that someone as well connected as you might know a guy, so to speak. Nor do we have any delusions of this being a stealth mission, should you wish it to be loud. Our desires are as follows. Obtain the device in working order, and not have it traced back to the Covenant. Can you help us, President Klak?"

[Tower of Willow the Grey]

Bob was shocked by how arduous it was to obtain the book. He nodded solemnly at Willow’s remark about Nar-Zath’aani’s artfulness.

After Willow explained the situation with the Division, Klak rubbed his chin and began to pace the room.

“Hy’dorel, that’s insane,” he whispered to himself. He spoke up as he continued to pace around the room, browsing through Willow’s library. “Some of my powers are based on enhancements, so if I took care of this myself, I still might be able to put up a fight. Then again, if I show up blasting away at this Division, there could be a diplomatic incident. Hy’dorel may be a valuable member of the FSA, but they get sensitive about outside involvement in internal security matters...assuming of course their government doesn’t have its own hands in this.”

He glanced up at Willow and nodded.

“We’ll help you, I have just the people in mind,” Klak said.

Bob nodded and smiled.

“I’ve been meaning to visit Hy’dorel, especially its many wonders. A xenoarchaeologist’s trip would be the perfect cover, too. I’m in, Mr. President.”

“I’ve told you to call me Klak, Bob,” Klak chuckled. “Anyway, I think the Covenant will be in good hands with Bob and the other people I have in mind. I don’t suppose you can teleport them here, can you? I’d also be happy to talk about how it’s in the Covenant’s best interest to join the FSA.”

---

[City Square, Malchior IV]

Gaius Malcovus looked up to the officer in confusion, shocked by what was happening.

One of his bodyguards went over and placed his hand on the officer’s shoulder.

“Thank you, officer!” he breathed, panting. “Help me get him out of here!”

The bodyguard lifted Gaius up and placed his hand on Gaius’s back. He motioned for the officer to do the same, unaware of the fact that he was giving the hunter his quarry.

---

OOS: Theme for the rest of this post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3escvQEziag

[Vonilla, Deep Underwater]

Uteriach tossed and turned in his bed, groaning as the nightmares tormented him.

He found himself standing near a cliff in a desert. In front of him were Gabriel Ascheron and Edward Allman. Both smiled and somehow spoke to Uteriach in Old Dachori, a language neither of them knew.

“[Come],” Ascheron said, and pointed with an open palm to the edge of the cliff.

“[And see],” Allman continued, smiling.

Slowly and suspiciously, Uteriach stepped to the cliff. In the distance, he saw two titanic bipedal robots struggling with each other. One had the emblem of the FSA on it, and the other the emblem of the New Order.

Uteriach heard a grunt and spun around. He saw his son, Figlio di Armechio, dueling with Dallas Dalton and Joshua Kozin, their blades meeting and none gaining the upper hand. Thomas Kane watched from a distance and slowly pulled out a sniper rifle.

An explosion rang out throughout the valley. Figlio and the others suddenly stopped. Their heads began to shake rapidly. Uteriach looked back to the titans in horror.

Suddenly, a third being descended from the skies, glowing and smiling. He wore a garish purple outfit and a grey scarf. Despite this man’s human face, Uteriach felt unsettled, as though he were staring at something uncannily eldritch.

The being whispered, and the titans placed their hands on their ears. They keeled over and crashed onto the ground, wailing and dying in pain.

The eldritch man quietly floated over to Uteriach. Uteriach backed away, and started to run. But before he could get very far, Blackout appeared in front of him with a maniacal bare-toothed grin.

Blackout pointed up to the sky, and Uteriach slowly looked up. He saw Sefer dancing wildly, with a series of stars moving with her. The stars began to bleed. The image disappeared as Sefer cackled. Then she too, disappeared.

Suddenly, Klak appeared, his skin full of glowing purple swirls. His hair raised, crackling with violet energy that matched the color of his eyes. He wore a black cowl, and stared at an approaching white mask.

Blackout placed his hand on Uteriach’s shoulder, and the Rider flinched.

He woke up back at the facility in a sweat. He reviewed his dream thoroughly, lost in thought.

Only a myth... he assured himself.

OOS: This post brought to you by this song.

<Tanari Prime, Movement for Rights and Freedoms HQ>

As Aster tried to read through a long, extremely boring report relating to a bill Eachan was trying to pass through the Confederation’s parliament, which the MRF was planning to oppose, her mind was a million miles away. Her mind was still reeling at what she had done - what she had been forced to do - to Richard, but not quite in the way she expected.

Aster had killed people before, of course, back when she, Richard, and Jones had returned to Tanari Prime to join the rebellion there. None of them had ever been her friends, though Richard had done his best to very comprehensively put that history behind them - and she was also acting in self-defence, as she kept reminding herself. Nevertheless, while she did feel some guilt, regret, and shame - as one might expect - she mostly just felt surprised at how easy it had been, and how often she had thought about violence since then. The words ‘revolutionary justice’ had come to her mind just before the executive committee meeting, and that seemed to sum it up. After a few years of false respite and phony war, the galaxy was once again becoming a colder, more lawless place, and current events within the MRF seemed to epitomise that.

Part of her badly wanted to speak to Jones. His advice had gotten Aster through times that were, in theory, much tougher than this. But Jones hadn’t returned a single call in a long time, ever since he had left for Malchior IV, and apparently, if Silver Eachan could be trusted on the issue, there was a reason for that, even if she still wasn’t quite sure what it was.

-----

<Tanari Prime, Military Base>

“Get out of the ship.” one of the soldiers hissed. “Or we start shooting.”

Suddenly, a very loud bang came from a nearby hangar, followed by the sound of engines blasting off. “God fucking damn it! Everyone watch out!” a technician yelled, as everyone turned their heads to see what was happening. A drone, one not too large but easily capable of supporting a person’s weight, had just launched by accident due to a malfunction, and it was about to fly just above Rain’s pod.

-----

<Vongola, Battle of Sards>

Kane smiled at the burning wreck, and sent a brief radio message… somewhere.


As the fighters were destroyed and their pilots perished, the arcs of energy seemed to only grow longer and more agitated. The plane then changed course, and was now heading to meet the VPR bombers.

-----

<Vesa Qatoria>

Blackout practically beamed at what he saw in Vekhta’s memories. Profound, justified hatred - the perfect material from which a perfect weapon could be crafted and launched in the direction of the New Order. It shouldn’t even take much effort.

He pressed his mental attack, trying to force Vekhta’s real memories to the fore, to bring them all rushing back and override the fake ones, as suddenly as possible.

-----

[Tower of Willow the Grey]

With a chuckle, Willow pondered the implications of Klak's suggestions, "It's not an unwise plan. It would play into another agent of ours' strengths. I would recommend rendezvousing with him prior to attempting such a siege. He shrouds himself from remote viewing as a security measure, so I can't get you to him directly. I can teleport Bob here, yes, but if you are having others join him, I would recommend having the group come as a unit, having been briefed on the situation by either of you two. It would look less suspicious if there was a paper trail to support the claim that you've come for archeological reasons. Come in a ship with equipment for excavation, analysis, and recording findings. Contact the consulate, get permission, arrive in skyport and make contact with our man on the ground. He typically frequents..."

She trails off, checking her dossier again before resuming, "right, there's a dive bar in the slums of the city. Faded blue with chipped and similarly faded gold shingles. The Sea Dragon's Nest is it's moniker. He sends his transmissions from there, typically with a pint in hand. He isn't exactly the most cordial, polite, tactful....."

One more check of the folder, "Right, I shouldn't be browbeating him. He's excellent at demolition, mapping, engineering, and.." she squints at the page she's on, lifting her glasses, "general MacGuyvering. I don't know what in the nine hells that means, but it's in his profile. Real cloak and dagger individual. I mean that in the literal sense. Wears a cloak, wields daggers. Of note, feel free to take your time. The Covenant wants it done right, not fast. Do proper reconnaissance if you feel the information we've provided is insufficient. Talk to locals, learn guard patterns, do what you see fit. Only contact me through our man pm the ground. He reports weekly through very specific means. He's stated his displeasure with it, but understands our precautions."

Willow closes the folder, returning it to her side and looks directly at the two in front of her. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she makes a final request, "As our group intends to remain neutral in this pattern of rising action betwixt your factions, we've gone to great lengths not to implicate ourselves or you in this caper. I will not speak of it to anyone outside this room, and i should hope, with the exception of the men you will be looping in on the mission, neither shall you?"