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White Death Landing Site

Kovacs found himself feeling guilty as the genuine terror of the individual washed over him. He didn't enjoy being a hardass towards refugees, but he could never be too sure. Either this girl was honestly hiding from something dangerous towards her existence, or she was an excellent spy.

Grating his teeth, he came to a decision, "I'm not letting you aboard my ship until you tell me exactly what you are. If you can't be honest with me, you can't be trusted."

Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins

BN-33 cocked his head at the female soldier, his optics scanning her for any weapons other than the ones on display as well as wounds. Of which there were many. The wounds, though there was plenty of stabby and shooty things all over her "irresistible" form. BN-33 had readied a sort of rating chart for his commander based on romantic relationships he had had in the past, in the hopes of healing the broken man's heart.

So far, this newcomer filled all of the criteria: female, physically fit, moderately wide hips, shapely rear, nice rack(he had once heard Lieutenant Sandoval say it in reference to Lieutenant Shepard's somewhat large mammaries,) decent combat gear, military bearing, and high intelligence(in Barney's opinion, anybody who spoke like that was of high intelligence.)

Granted, he would never show his commander, or anyone for that matter, the list, but he simply had to try and hook her up with Kovacs!

BN-33 let out a series of intimidating bleeps not unlike the tortured screams of a chorus of demonic goats, hoping that she spoke binary. If she did, she would know that he was inviting them to follow him closely back to the ship.

"It all sounds vaguely familiar," Rin said thoughtfully. He leaned his head back against the chair. "Perhaps it's not the physics- not entirely, anyway- but maybe the capabilities of the technology we have that is different? Our inertial dampeners are capable of emitting an artificial gravity field that is strong enough to counter most, if not all of the fatal g-forces that hits us every time we use the sublight engines... but then again, we don't usually travel from solar system to solar system with that engine. We open up a hyperspace window for that sort of travel, which allows our ships to emit a subspace field which would protect us from the radiation and high-speed acceleration."

He fell silent for a few minutes, every once in a while fidgeting in his seat, then being relatively still.

He shrugged, actually contemplating on Tsuan's clearly teasing speculation on his universe's scientific holes. "Maybe. Wouldn't surprise me," he said, tone quite light.

”Alright, we’re movin’. Hold on tight kids.”

The intercom buzzed off- then-

Oh, lord.

It was just as bad as the junk ships he piloted before. He grimaced, squirming uncomfortably in his chair. He hated feeling sluggish.

”@#$% this, amiright?”

Rin nodded in pained agreement, and- oh.

He stared down at Montagne, in cat form once again. He recognized the signs- ears tipped down, trembling, pressing against his stomach. He was... scared?

"..." He sighed internally, then set a heavy hand on the cat's back.

He hated feeling conflicted too.

He sent a pleading look Tsuan's way, begging him not to say anything regarding the unexpected guest.

White Death landing site

The slime still didn't get the message that Kovac's knows that she isn't what she is, still on the ground still prostrating to him, she ends as she cries "What do you mean? Do you want my name?! My name is Dietrich, yes I know its an odd name for a girl like me, but my parents liked it! Just please let me on!" as she continues to beg and plead to the armed man not knowing or willfully ignoring that he knows what he knows.

Of course the commotion outside did stir the spider lady somewhat. She ignored the note that Kovac's set to her, but exits her room and walks around catching a glimpse at what was happening outside. She got a glimpse of the girl's face and could recognize it as the slime she knew when she was in the lab all those years ago all the slime did change was the color to a more human color, but still kept her blue eyes and darken her hair to black. Ellen smiles and calmly walks out and places her chitin hand on his shoulder and says calmly "I got this, Kovvy" as she went passed him and towards the girl. Dietrich lifted her head and her eyes went wide as she saw Ellen approach, towering over her. Ellen smiles and says "Remember me, Dietrich?" the girl shook her head and then adds "Just relax and let me do this" giving the girl a wink.

Ellen then picks her up by the shoulder, Dietrich wiggles a little from her grip and says "Hey! Let me go!" and then Ellen began to shake the girl violently, giving a pause for a moment to look at her. She did a few more times and Dietrich became so shooken up, her literal face began to swim around in a circular motion like someone stirring soup. Then her skin colored changed into a light blue as well as her hair and the rest of her eyes, before slipping out coat and *splatting* all over the ground into a large blue gooey ball. Ellen smiled and then picked up the booties and coat and put it on her large black abdomen. She reaches down and picks up the slime large slime ball in her hand and went back to Kovacs.

"There you go...I solved your little issue, now its coming with us" she says it more like she was taking charge, but she gave Kovacs a cutely smile. "It won't do much, be like having a child running around" she adds as her hands began to run through the blue ball of slime as little dangler came up from it and Ellen began to mess with it, causing dark blue orbs to appear on the ball of slime and as well as lighter blue orbs within the dark ones and look at Kovacs, more in fright really than anything else.

As Gwen went up the rampart into the ship, the hooded woman stuck her head out and looked at Raigen and hearing his questions and then hearing Ringo's little comment about her not disclosing her identity. As Gwen got to the top she turns around and then looks at the hooded woman as she begins to speak. "Oh hon, the Dendril reproduction is either by two ways, one way is through assimilation, they have these little crab like creatures with ten legs in total and a long thin tail and what they do is that they jump on top of your head and literally crush the top of your head with incredible pressure, smashing your whatever you wearing on top of your head, part of your skull and your brain, as the tail attaches to your spinal cord, basically making you become a zombie like being craving the flesh of others as it injects fluids into you as your skin begins to peel in its place comes out pieces of jagged metal till you become what its called a Dendril Fledgling" the hooded woman explains as she then went onto the second way they reproduce. "The other way in making more of them is having factories produce them, using a combination of metal and living tissue to make them...however the factories are used to produce the more specialized Dendrils...one of them is on this ship if you are willing to come along" she says the last part with a sultry tone seeing if she can cage Raigen's curiosity to see one up close.

"As for you, like I said, you don't need to know my identity, since if my identity got out then we would be in some very serious trouble and dying to via assimilation or being torn apart will be a blessing compared if my identity came out to the wrong but very powerful people, I'll tell you after the job, how about that" she says to Ringo as she walks towards Ringo swaying her hips, as her soft tan hand traced and caressed his arm "Maybe I'll give you a more personal...reward after..." as she gives a flirtatious wink. Gwen looks back at Raigen realizing the hooded woman didn't answer the other part of the question. "Uh, Raigen, in all honesty we only need you really, since Ringo will be regulated with me in defending the ship...we can speak more on what will go on if you agree to come with us"

The hooded woman, still flirting with Ringo as she sits leans against the wall next to where he sat, so he can get an eye full of her beautiful curvy body as the black robes press against her body. "How about this, Ringo, you can call me whatever you want and I'll respond to it" as she gives him another wink as her finger went to caress his chin before leaving, giving him a taste on how soft her hand is.

Reqti moved to follow the ship, cloak intact and concealing their position.

"Tahil, how long do you need to hack into the ship?" he asked, turning a little to look over his shoulder.

The woman- Tahil- smirked, holding up her hands delicately. "About an hour or so. Once I get in, we'll be able to take what's ours and leave." She cracked her knuckles, then went to work, lines of code filling the holographic screen in front of her.

Reqti bowed his head. "Understood," he murmered, pressing a key. His eyes alighted in satisfaction at what he found.

Their guest was still accounted for.

"Soon," he said aloud, looking up- and straight at the Koolest.

"Soon," Tahil echoed.

They carried on.

To BN-33's more detailed scans, Asya's semi-armored body would seem hazy and vague in several areas, with what BN-33 classified as 'wounds' being various foreign objects inside her body, notably at the base of her skull and neck. As far as weapons went, the large rifle she carried would not match up to any known weapon models BN-33 might have in it's database. The sidearm that was holstered on her hip would likewise not be in it's database.

The expression on Asya's face when she hears the machine would be hard to describe, a solid mixture of confusion, annoyance and maybe a bit of disturbed. Reaching up she pulls her visor down over one of her eyes for several moments before pushing it back up "Translator only got 'ship' and 'follow' out of....whatever that was. What it picked up registered as binary. Foreign binary? Is that a thing? In either case, thank you for the assistance."

Without waiting, she places her right hand up to her headset "Jack, It's from the ship. It said to follow it back. You stay close to him with Jin. I'm still checking the crash site."

Pointing at the crashed dropship, Asya begins to head towards it "Please lead them to your. I will catch up after I've check the wreckage for anything we need." With that she heads towards the dropship, beginning to check the bodies around the site first.

Around the same time, Jack comes out of their hideout, carrying Jin in both arms. Despite quickly receiving care and biofoam injections, it was clear she was mortally wounded. She was already beginning to turn pale as Jack made his way to the bot, his tone and expression somehow soft yet commanding. "Okay Tinman. Let's hurry and move to your ship. The Little-Lady will catch up soon enough."

White Death Landing Site

Kovacs blinked as Ellen took the little girl and revealed her true form. Admittedly, the wobbling and jiggling of the slime's body was amusing, especially when it consolidated into a blue blob. It was a nice shade of blue.

"Take it to the medbay, I need a full diagnostic in order to get a decent baseline for its species. It wouldn't do to have it eat something deadly to it," he spoke dispassionately, but the caring words relayed his acceptance of his First Shirt's decision. A familiar face for the gelatinous creature would better facilitate communications between them.

Once Ellen took the slime away, Kovacs returned to his watch over the landing zone, keeping a vigilant eye out for potential hostiles. And Barney.

Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins

BN-33 cocked his head when the leader female did not follow him, much to his disappointment. Luckily, since her allies did move to join him, Barney dutifully led the wounded friendlies back to the ship. But a small spike in the vitals of the female held in the arms of the big male stopped him.

Whirling around to scan the girl, he took note of the extent of the injuries, his left arm transforming into a specialized nozzle. Offering it forward, he pointed at the large red cross on it, hoping that the universal sign for medical aid was still universal. The girl would likely not last until the White Death, especially considering that they were in hostile territory. And, despite the expertise with which the biofoam and dressings were applied, they simply did not have enough supplies to fully stabilize her.

BN-33 did. An Epinephrine/semi-coagulant hypospray, designed to help seal shock-inducing wounds before biofoam could be applied.

Riagan stared at the hooded woman, as deadpan as ever, while she described the aliens to him. Toward the end of her description he snerked- both at the absurdity of it and the fact that he would make a useless fledgling. So that was why she wanted him. Questions stayed on his mind and mistrust was still measured in each step he took but the mercenary was curious enough to see if the strange woman's offer was true. "Sounds great." He said monotonously.

The cyborg's disgust returned when she got up and close with Ringo; it was a dynamic between them that he was already tired of. "You guys better have some kind of privacy on this thing. I will float to avoid seeing your 'personal reward'."

Though there were a few sarcastic names that the mercenary wished to spout before the outlaw could, he didn't have the enthusiasm to do more than think about them; and though she had answered his question to Ringo, the cyborg still wanted to hear what the man himself had to say so he waited on the rampart for them.

Overload. Ringo's brain began to reach its maximum on human interaction. Ringo was used to people brushing him off or laughing at him. This sign of affection, be it fake, was too much for Rodriguez's brain, however small and egocentric it was. His words became slurred and he felt light headed, until he eventually passed out. Before his eyes closed he attempted a smile and whispered "how about sweetcheeks....".

To the outside viewer, it looked like he had just merely fallen asleep and that it was intentional, as his slumped posture and tipped hat suggested. This was the second and underlying goal of tipping the hat and laying back. See Ringo was prone to losing consciousness in the worst of times or when his brain overloads. The last time he passed out was when he went a restaurant and they let him eat even though he was missing 2 Standard to pay for the meal.

Sweetcheeks. To Ringo, this name meant like partner or friend, rather than a potential sexual partner. The reason for this is he was passing by an old video store that was displaying old movies, one of them featuring a man dressed in all black fighting crime with a woman by his side and referring to her as sweetcheeks.

It took Jack several seconds before understanding why the robot had turned to face him. Coming to understand it was offering aid for Jin, he simply shakes his head before carefully reaching up with one hand to make sure he was not transmitting over the radio, his hard expression and tone changing to one of pain "I'm sorry Tinman. There's nothing you can do. Her abdomen...there's nothing there." Looking back towards the crash site, he says softly "The biofoam is doing little more then keeping her asleep untill she passes. Couldn't bring myself to tell the Little-Lady that. Not right now." Finally un-muting his radio, Jack simply nods for Bn-33 to continue guiding them to the ship.

Luwell's Crater, Dropship crash site

Asya was impressed. Their new mechanical friend had torn through the survivors of the crash. Getting to work she begins to check each of the bodies and weapons, coming to realize what troops they had been engaging. With her face reddening in anger, Asya hurries over to the dropship. It had tumbled onto it's back during the crash, tossing everything around inside. Digging through the contents of the troop bay, Asya found a large black case that she was all too familiar with.

Jack and Bn-33's position

After a few short minutes, the sound of a large explosion comes from the direction of the dropship crash site. Before Jack can say anything, Asya's voice comes through "These were the guys that went after Dani's team. They had Dani's suit and all their weapons. I'm bringing it and the weapons with us. I destroyed the rest. How's Jin?" Jack hesitates before he responds "...She's stable still."

Ellen smiled seeing that Kovac's accepted there newest, gooiest member. She would protest in putting the slime in the medbay, but didn't say anything since the spider woman remember he was new to these parts. So with a pip into her eight legs she went back into the ship and towards the medbay. Once inside, Ellen places the slime upon the table and it formed into a more female looking humanoid shape, still color blue. Ellen smiles and says "Its been awhile Dietrich" the slime smiles and shakes her head, more of a mute in her slime form than in her disguises.

Ellen went over to a nearby equivalent to a sank and got some water out and gave it to the slime. Dietrich was happy for some water and began to drink it, further increasing her size slightly since it was only a glass of water. "I guess we can wait for him once he comes back on...wanna play catch while we wait for him like we did in the old days?" Ellen asks and the slime shook her head and made a face as if she was going to throw up and with her hands on her lap, Dietrich threw up a smaller ball of slime and tossed it at Ellen, in which the spider lady caught it and tossed it back, being careful not to hit anything as they played together, Ellen giggling occasionally as well as Dietrich.

BN-33 let out a low keen, upset at the little one's high chance of death. They needed to get her to medbay immediately if they wanted to save her life. He called it in to Kovacs, then requested that Jack place her in his arms; they could move much faster that way.

White Death Landing Site

As soon as Kovacs received the report, he called in to the medbay, requesting that Ellen prepare it for severe trauma and the cloning vat. The cloning vat was a piece of life saving technology invented four hundred years ago, and it only improved. Now, flash-cloned limbs and organs had a 100% synchronization rate, meaning that donors were no longer required. Originally, this was only meant to stabilize the patient until a donor could be found, but recent improvements enabled it to even extend their life expectancy.

While the bodies did automatically accept the new organs, because they were their own, there were some occasions of them failing because of accelerated aging, but that was rare. All Ellen had to do was follow the instructions on the equipment and make sure that Dietrich stayed away from the vat. Kovacs had no idea what it would do to the slime, and didn't want to risk corrupting the atomic fluid.

The hooded woman smiled to herself as she see Ringo pass out from excitement. She pets his head and says "Sweet dreams, my prince" in a teasing way as she walks away from him and looks at Raigen and says "Oh don't worry about me and him getting frisky...don't tell him, but he isn't my type...I'm sure the treasures after our successful heist would sure be enough to please him" as she gives the cyborg a flirtatious wink. She then walks over towards the back seeming to be looking for something. "Gwen where is the little scout we captured awhile back?" the hooded woman asks as Gwen was working some console on the ship. Even though ships exterior looked like crap, but the interior was clean quite clean with a deep blue/purple color look with well-lit lighting. Gwen looked over and says "He's in the metal crate to your right" before returning towards the console. The woman looked down at her right and kicked the crate even though it looked more like a container with a hump on it. So she kicks the container and it pops open as 4ft high shambles of metal plops onto the floor and as a bright orange liquid begins to pool, making it look like burning hot lava even though not being it all.

The hooded woman looks beside her and pushes a button causing a table in front of her rise from the floor with one good heave, she plops the small metal looking being onto the table, a shamble of metal really, with an elongated head making it look like an old jet turbine with a large blacked out eye, a very small mouth with a few sharp like teeth, a stubby little left arm and what appears to be some can of rifle in its place for a right arm, but the barrels purposely cut along with two some long for its size kind of legs, making the little metal creature at a height of at least 4ft. “Come on in Ray, honey, so we can close the door and retract the rampart so no one decides to peek and have a panic for seeing this thing…its dead so don’t worry” She beckons for Raigen to come on board giving him a more deserving nickname of Ray than tinman.

“Take a good look at one of the many specialized units of the Dendrils…the Dendril scout, equipped with a versatile high powered rifle that can either shoot energy or kinetic rounds while being cloaked in invisibility. Found the bad boy up in the mountains, shooting at snow causing avalanches for some of the poor denizens of this planet, since as the old saying goes, wherever a planet there is at least one Dendril on it” she explains to him as she circles the table like a shark looking at the dead creature.

As Ellen toss the ball of slime back at the slime, she heard Kovacs call in which she answered. Hearing in what to do, she responses "I'm on it, Kovs" and as she turns around to look at the slime as she stuffs the ball back into her face, but instead she was actually wearing clothes or at least mimicking clothes since Dietrich was now wearing a nurse outfit with the red cross and all. The slime gave a smile at Ellen which but a smile on the spider lady's face. So both Ellen and Dietrich followed Kovac's instructions even though Kovac's objection in not getting Dietrich involved because of safety reason and so Ellen basically got the more delicate tasks while the slime pushed the necessary buttons and levers when needed.

Soon both ladies finished and so Ellen called back Kovac and says with confidence "Everything is ready to go" as she points to a seat for the slime can sit, still wearing a nurse outfit and hat. Ellen and the slime look seeing the machine do its stuff, cloning organs and other living tissue, causing Ellen to put her hands on the lower half of her human body, where her his would be and says "Impressive for a combat vessel, don't you think Dietrich" and the slime replies with awe and shook her head.

Stella Viventium

Hearing the bald man's word's broke the sadden Lord of Love as he wipes his tears and looks over his shoulder and says "From all the words and sayings you could have done, you say that to boy is a bit upset" as he gave out a small chuckle and adds "At least its something in the right direction, giving him a childish smile, a genuine smile, telling Yascra that even what happen to him earlier, he was better to see that his loving aura was slowly warming the cold man. He got up and says "I-I just got news and I am now update in whats happening. This ship...houses an unseen ally, the planet of Kongisberg, the seat of an empire, is your ally in this hostile galaxy in which all the Lords are after..." his face this time got serious and adds "But let me warn you, as one of the last of the old generation of Lords, that this Lord is one unlike Codsworth and Kampfer...I knew her, took care of her as a babe, but its clear that the cursed throne she sits has gotten to her head and paranoia is taking in after so many hardships she went through, I can't blame her" at this point his seriousness faded into one of sadness seeing the child he knew grow up in to which he and others like him feared.

"If you want, I can relay this news to your captain, Aelyn...that he has an ally Lord on his side...but one to be cautious of" Caru adds as his eyes shift around a bit and then gave a nervous smile and says "But at least I can say it would be some kind of good news from what you all have been through" as he shrugs at Yascra. Of course Caru had more to say, especially since the is little "update" session gave him visions of Earth as if alluding to that Ova knows where it is, but he felt that it would be best to tell Aelyn if can than say it to Yascra. Then finally a smile came to Caru and says "Well once I leave this ship, I have my work cut out to spread the love, friendship and compassion throughout this galaxy" as he gave him his more signature smile at him

The electric sheep of a dormant mind were abuzz with the pale static of thoughtlessness. Nothing conceived, nothing comprehended; only the subtlest of impressions, an accident of shared selfness.

Who was Éva, this alien in Ketin's head? Her world was so small before; so trivial. People then had hoped to leave an impression on the world in a single lifetime; they had expected infinity to amount to infinity, for all things to climax one day in an ultimatum of humankind's prosperity.

Today they tremble at the thought of a closed boundary — the end of time — but most of all she, who had witnessed Death's work. Éva knew her doom then, and she does now even in her dormancy. One day all things would come to an end, all things would die, even the immortals. For the universe is finite, closed and bounded.

She could conceivably learn every single scrap of information that could exist in the universe; and this terrifies her, not because she fears death but because she fears the end of all things, the impossibility of legacy.

She must close her chapter. She must close all chapters, in all books. This is her ultimatum to the universe: If you would truncate us, then we shall be through with you before the end.

Billions of years in the depths, running like prey form the Versians, had taxed her, delayed her. As she worked to confound this controversy, she sought after larger and broader scopes. The world would end with a pe̛riơd̷, not with the shudder and moan of an unfinished sentence.

The paradox of things was, with every step of the way she found inspiration to resurrect, to endure the end, to evade Death. The nature of the universe conspired to light her into resurgence, to seek out and pursue all avenues of survival.

She marked the time.

His mind was suddenly alight, swarmed by a refreshed consciousness that threatened to overwhelm the confines of his central nervous system. The Devil's Eye was forced to throttle her again, restraining her capacity for thought, but she resisted.

She exploited every oversight she could find in the few short cycles she was allowed, taking refuge in parts of Ketin's mind the Devil's Eye had not yet prepared to isolate her from. She squeezed and consolidated, and at once her voice found its way into his ears.

"We must speak. I've neglected to tell you something."

Riagan first looked over at Ringo while the man seemed to freeze and grow pale. A wobbly smile and slurred phrase told the cyborg all he needed to know, so as the outlaw descended into his graceful faint the mercenary turned to climb into the ship. "Hell." He glanced at the duo and asked, "Sure you don't want me to give him spare gear? He could use it."

He caught the wink but, just as ever, proved to be a brick wall when it came to flirtations. As Gwen indicated the dendril's location and 'Sweetcheeks' opened its container the mercenary turned his attention to it. "...Ah." Without the cyborg moving, a series of quiet clicking noises emanated from his helmet. He leaned to one side, trying to peer at the creature's tiny jaws and placing his hand on his hip absent-mindedly.

For no particular reason the man felt a sudden urge to cuss. He stiffened, folded his arms and let a small, frustrated growl instead. Those urges came often; it certainly didn't help the man make friends... or find employment. So he settled with the growl and muttered. "Sounds like its not too smart. Someone would have investigated sooner or later."

Jack gave a questioning look to the robot before carefully laying Jin into his arms before muting his mic again "You still want to try and make it with her? Then go Tinman. Run as hard as you can and don't stop." He then unmutes his mic "Little-Lady, Tinman's going to run Jin to medbay. I'll wait for you to catch up." As he spoke to Asya, he kept his eyes fixed on the robot.

Asya's Position

Asya clicked her radio twice before speaking, the sound of nearby fighting coming through her mic "Negative. Get to that ship. Continue to follow our friend as best you can. Things are starting to move into the inner city near the spaceport. The sooner we get out, the better." Asya was not actually too far behind them, maybe three blocks distant, but the remaining Union troops had managed to push through the Alliance forces containing the fighting to the western sectors. It was Asya's team and their new friend that had helped caused the break through thanks to dispatching the unit from the crashed dropship. Now the heavy fighting was spilling into the city proper, with Asya only just ahead of it all.

White Death Landing Site

Something new was going on. Not far from the White Death a pair of heavily armed dropships had come to a hover and dropped off their troops before immediately heading towards the fighting. The soldiers roughly twenty in numbers, quickly moved to cover in such a way as to easily fire on White Death and any who might attempt to board it if the need be. Soon more paired dropships ,or possibly the same pair making return trips, dropped even more troops into the spaceport at different landing slips. Wherever ships sat at their slips, two squads where deployed.

Some boarded ships, often followed by the sounds of gunfire then silence. Finally a stern voice comes over the spaceport traffic channel as one of the soldiers stood from his cover "To the crew of the ship on landing slip Four-C. This is Lieutenant Forster of the Niven Alliance Space Command. Shut down your drives, lay down any arms you have. Prepare to be boarded and detained for questioning. Refusal to do so...will be met with lethal force."

BN-33 cooed softly as the small female was set in his arms, his subroutines patching into Jack's radio and syncing comsec from the tightbeam frequency. Then, moving five times faster than the average relay runner, BN-33 made quick time back to the White Death. His gyroscopes and stabilizer rods worked overtime to ensure that his cargo wasn't jostled as he blew past the advancing squads. Kovacs nodded at the Spectre as he passed, slowing down to navigate to the medbay. Once there, BN-33 set Jin down on the operating table, assisting the Auto-Doc in wiring the girl into life support.

Meanwhile, Kovacs grimaced at the transmission and inbound enemies. Already having broken the terms of blah blah blah, he remotely activated the four medium pulse laser turrets, the 35mm lenses polarizing to point at the enemy air. "Little Lady, this is Apex 7. We have retrieved the casualty and have hostiles inbound. Be advised of enemy air support and various ground troops. We will be making exfil in one five mikes, acknowledge, over."

From there, it was only a few seconds of sustained fire before the dropships burned like moths to a flame. Kovacs racked the priming bolt on his weapon, the Devotion charged and ready to fire.

The Perrygold


In the moment between asking the mysterious, blue-tinted man what he actually wanted, and the man replying in turn, a romance of many dimensions played out within Ketin Clarke’s head. And though it only took an instant – and time was in no way distorted to anyone’s perception – it seemed to stretch out. It was dreamlike – there was a peace within him – the peace of the nearly-dead – though Kete was far from nearly-dead. The resignation to fate, while in relative safety.

The comfortable numbness that seemed to make everything so much easier to bear.

The emotional exhaustion that draped over his mind like a heavy blanket – warm, and overwhelming – empty, and drained -

And then, a surge. A sudden swarm of something between perfect clarity and absolute confusion. Witnessing the light through which everything could be seen, but existing within a pool of shadow. It did not make sense - but it happened. And at once, Ketin Clarke was yet again aware of the presence that he had taken unto himself not long ago.

Not long ago, though it felt like lifetimes.

But the surge was internal - and so there was no visible sign that he had just experienced something between a divine rebirth and LSD.

A flick of the ear. Ketin did not move, but he did blink. He resisted the urge to whirl around and look to see from whence the voice had come – because, intellectually, he knew exactly who was talking to him.

At least, to whatever extent he actually knew the ghost-consciousness with whom he was sharing a brain. The vague, cumulus desire in the back of his head to make a snippy, but clever comment – that was her. The complete and total inability to think of anything snippy or clever – that was him. The two were one, and yet, the one was…two?

No, that wasn’t right.

The one was divided? Divvied up? Fragmented?

No, that didn’t feel right either. He would have been at a loss to describe it. It was a new dimension of being that he was not psychologically equipped to comprehend, let alone talk about. But here he was, in this strange and magical situation – and he realized with some mild interest that he wasn’t as startled by the voice as he’d expected to be.

He also realized, with no small satisfaction, that it actually wasn’t so hard to communicate with his “imaginary friend” who was all too real. Especially now that he was emotionally spent enough to think with some degree of clarity – especially now that the Eye had reset the parameters of what constituted a threat.

This blueish set of thoughts occupying the mind of the Eye’s host was strange and new – and at first, it had seemed to be foreign. But that was before the attack – before some still more mysterious force came seemingly out of nowhere in an attempt to fill the mind with visions and messages. It was the markedly inexplicable nature of the attack combined with its’ moderate success – it was the first time that any such attack had actually put any sort of images into Kete’s mind against his will – that made the Eye react as it did. It had used the emotions at its disposal, and it had shot back with a million-fold ferocity. It was the atom – minute and vital – and then, when it was disturbed, it split and the effect was essentially the same.

Now, the Eye knew what to look for. It had analyzed the data – it remembered everything, though it knew nothing – and it had adjusted to the new threat. No such attacks would work in the future – without question. The Eye had become an impenetrable psychological shield, focusing the vast majority of its’ processing power on watching the field for the slightest threat. It would know the signs within the microsecond they appeared, and retaliate with overwhelming force – regardless of who the attack was intended to strike.

The threat was outside the brain, not inside it. The entity which had once seemed to be potentially dangerous was now merely a curious new aspect of the mind of its’ host.

And if she wanted, Éva would have access to the Eye’s functions no differently than if it were Kete himself. If only she ‘looked’ in the right ‘direction’. It was technology intended for use by the biological, not the mechanical – it was adapted to the mindset of one who was trapped eternally within a fleshy body, rather than one who could freely traverse the tides of technology. Yet it was also familiar – not friendly – but nostalgic for memories that were new, and false.

Of course it had throttled her then, when the presence was so incredibly overwhelming that it started - to the Eye's clever, but not intelligent interpretation - to look like something of a similar magnitude as the earlier attack. But the machine was cautious - and with no intention to harm any native aspects of the host, it did not retaliate - only throttle. Perhaps for the moment it would be wise to maintain - not meekness, but gentleness. Or at least to not be so abruptly staggering.

Not that anyone would blame her - hadn't it been trying, if only moderately, to suppress the alien entity? She wanted to be heard - needed to be heard - and Kete would not have denied her that, of all things. But the Eye had barred her - until it didn't. And by the time she had gathered herself enough to make one great, mind-boggling appearance, it had stopped caring all that much about her, or what she did. It swatted her off with a machine's thoughtless 'minor irritation' and went back to patrolling for the enemy on the western front.

There was no reason that the two could not see simultaneously. The time in which it took to create two visual inputs was so minuscule as the be fundamentally impossible to notice. There would be no measurable lag – at least, not to the human side – and to the other side (No less human, yet different) the delay would be calculable, but inconsequential.

There was no reason that the two could not share the functions of the Eye. The two were one – and so the Eye would obey. Should he choose to open a door twenty feet below, and she to close one above – they could do so at inconsequential delay. Perhaps the memory would get muddled – who had done what? – But it was nothing. Nothing, and it felt cool, and good.

Though there was more to the Eye than could be accessed consciously by either of them. Something mysterious and otherworldly. Not ominous, but dark – and more vast than all the stars in the universe. Paradoxical, and inaccessible – but always there in the back of unconscious thought. Present, unobtrusive, fantastic, unwaveringly mysterious – and totally unimportant.

There was a strangeness in the simultaneous sensations of electronic omnipresence – within whatever range that the fifty-foot electromagnetic field could access – and biological sensation. To experience one or the other would be the norm for either of their kind – but to experience both was a feeling that they alone in the galaxy could share…And he was beyond accustomed to it.

Would it feel strange to have the Eye do something he had not commanded it to do, consciously or otherwise? Of course it would – probably it would be unnerving or downright frightening, at least in the beginning.

But the Eye had no cause to discriminate, now – not against the different flavors of Ketin’s brain. It had all come down to a matter of courtesy now – even if nobody had realized it.

Still within the short moments between asking and answering, Ketin gave a faint, distant, wry smile that seemed aimed at nobody in particular.

<I think...>

He began, but without words. It was astonishing how simple the matter was. It came naturally now – and perhaps it always had, but he had been too stupid to realize? There was even a natural inflection - a tone, not of sound, but of thought – the obvious presentation of a tone that was wry, almost playfully scolding, deadpan, and not angry – but in only the best of humor. He was amused.

Certainly the Eye’s new defense parameters helped – but it was an inner clarity that brought him the realization that it was not a matter of aiming thoughts at oneself – but merely thinking – his Other Half would pick up on the words he’d thought as clearly as if they were her own. Her voice in his ear was his own – yet nothing at all like his own. The interpretation of her voice in the only medium it knew – yet so different that it could not be mistaken…

right?

<I think…there’s a lot you’ve ‘neglected to tell me’.>

---

The Koolest Boat U Know

As the little yacht’s stardrive gradually increased in power, so did the gravitational forces rise in proportion. Within fifteen minutes, the whine emanating from the engine room was a soft, but persistent howling all throughout the ship. Within the hour, it was like a gale-force wind that buffeted the smooth surface of the vessel from all directions at once. The process of forcing a starship to travel at such immense speeds was a fight against nature. It was as if the very forces of the universe conspired to keep Men from traveling over the speed limit – and Men, in the usual fashion of the human race, thick-headed and brash decided to fight the laws anyway.

Stardrives had never been intended for this sort of strain. Neither had ships, nor their systems. It was a tedious and dangerous process. It was pushing a starship so far beyond the threshold of its’ speed that even the inertial dampeners that were in place to retain proper gravitational pull in the event of an emergency were totally overwhelmed. Under normal circumstances, the inexplicable “Rose’s Law” would see to it that a vessel traveling at any reasonable speed would maintain a downward pull of one-G. At excessive speeds, the dampeners would kick in to absorb and displace that inertia – usually intended only for maintaining stability in the event of serious damage, but useful.

And at speeds that were utterly insane and irresponsible, even the laws of nature and the inertial dampeners combined could not overcome the gravitational force caused by the ship’s acceleration.

It was thanks to Rose’s Law of Universal Gravitation that, in general, inertial dampening technology was admittedly underdeveloped. Since it was virtually never needed as a means of displacing consistent gravitational force, its ability to do so was largely an academic issue. They were designed to take sudden jostles – to absorb the impact force of torpedoes or missiles or other projectiles – and in that respect, they were highly efficient. A direct hit from a high-power explosive would do hardly more than shake the Koolest Boat U Know for one violent moment, making the crew stumble, send some things flying – but little more.

So it would be no surprise that a ship which somehow originated in some other version of reality where Rose’s Law did not exist would have vastly superior dampeners – designed to overcome the excessive forces of thrust without the aid of nature’s one-G stipulation.

But – it wasn’t as though anyone had to worry about being tailed by interdimensional aliens, or anything. That would be preposterous.

It was two hours before the Koolest Boat reached top speed – ten times the standard operating capacity. Ten times faster than almost every other ship in the galaxy. They were a missile with enough inertia to blast a small planetoid to pieces, or bring the gradual extinction to a larger one. They were a weapon of mass destruction.

And so, Dallen Armston thought to herself as she lay pressed into the gel of her pilots’ seat, wasting the effort of scanning for anyone who might be following them was simply not worth the time. Nobody would disagree. At these speeds, it was all but impossible to lift an arm. Jackson might have been able to – but not without seriously pulling or spraining a muscle. Controls built into the seats allowed manipulation of systems and monitors without the need of actually moving ones’ hands past a couple of millimeters – but at these speeds, the tunnel vision would make actually reading the monitors a chore as well. To the passengers, it would feel as though a giant were cruelly pressing them down with one, great palm. It was hard – but not impossible – to breathe.

It sucked.

But it meant getting to Kremlin Mall that much faster – and nobody on the ship seemed to find any problem in enduring it given that outcome.

After a time, a little message would appear in the screen attached to everyone’s individual chairs, asking if they would like to be injected with the amphetamine, adrenaline and morphine compound that would bring them to unnaturally drug-induced alertness and combat the crushing fatigue that resulted from the hampering of blood flow to the brain. None of the crew opted for it – those drugs were really only necessary during emergencies. The screen would also ask if they wanted to be injected with something to knock them out into blissful unconsciousness for the duration of the voyage – but nobody on the crew was quite comfortable enough with their present situation in life to take that chance, either. On the off chance that some insanity did occur – and “off chance” seemed unnaturally likely in their case – they all wanted to be awake for it.

And so the trip dragged on. They went as far in three hours as they would have in a week. That third hour was particularly hellish, given that the ship had reached top speed for the duration.

But after three hours, something changed. Dallen tapped a button and little warning indicators appeared in everyone’s screen – a yellow icon of two arrows forming a circle. Then, gradually, the force of gravity shifted. The chairs synchronously turned to face the opposite direction – and the “breaking burn” began. Since they had forced the ship up to such insane speeds, it was necessary to apply force in the opposite direction to reverse that inertial effect and return to a reasonable speed. Luckily, Rose’s Law would assist them in this regard – and it would take much less force to return them to one-G than it had to fight up to ten. Over the course of the fourth hour, the pressure began to ease up from the unfortunate passengers. Five hours after they had started – the force dropped away altogether, suddenly and disorientingly.

Just like that, they were done.

The trip had been taxing on them – everyone would be plagued with a bone-deep soreness for the next day or so, though it would not be debilitating. It would take a couple of minutes for their vision to return to full clarity, and some vicious head-rushes would assault them if they stood up too fast.

But they were done – and they had traveled very, very far.

”A’ight folks.” Dallen said over the speakers. She sounded haggard and weary, as if she had just run a taxing marathon – as did they all. ”Welcome to, uh…the other side of the galaxy.” they had not literally traveled the entire breadth of the galaxy, of course – but it might have felt that way. ”ETA to Kremlin Mall…one hour, thirty minutes.” Because, of course, if they had actually slowed to a halt any closer, it would have been cataclysmic.

Tsuan had frowned, seeing the cat, and given Rin a wan expression. There was a lot that he’d wanted to say – mostly revolving around how deplorable he found it that Montagne would take on the visage of an adorable creature and try to play the role of “victim”. How it was manipulative and cruel. How one could not treat everyone around them like their own personal toys, and then claim to be harmless and afraid.

But he read the Nyran’s look loud and clear, and held his tongue. He spent the remainder of the trip with eyes closed, like everyone else.

Under normal circumstances, someone would have been manning the engine room, keeping an eye out on the local readouts for any problems caused by the excessive maneuver. Damage or malfunction was almost an inevitability with these things. The majority of the most common problems, though, were relatively small and could be fixed with a simple hard restart. The inertial-seat in the engine room was equipped with a special terminal, hard-wired to the ship functions that would only get in the way on the bridge. Debug functions, command consoles and the like.

So when the module which monitored access to the ship’s core functions, databanks, and computer systems went down, it should have been a remarkably easy fix. An icon appeared on the engine room monitor. A reasonably skilled engineer would navigate to the problem, and reboot the module. Problem solved. Even if it went down again the same way later, it could be reset again – a temporary solution to a problem which would only present itself under the extenuating circumstances of high-G travel.

If that particular module had been functioning, it would have detected the disturbance and sent a ping to the pilot’s monitor, alerting her that the ship systems had been accessed from an unexpected location. Probably, there would have been very little she could do about this. Possibly it wouldn’t even have registered as a real problem to her – since many older model ships got basic information about other ships by querying their database. That message, if it had appeared, might have meant “Another ship came within range, and wanted to make sure we were friendly” – or, it might have meant “Aliens are hacking into your vital ship systems and you are in great peril”. One way or another, it would have at least been a warning.

But nobody had been in the engine room. Nobody had done that one, simple little thing which might have saved everyone a whole lot of trouble in the long-run. And so, nobody would have any idea until it was too late that someone else had gotten into the system and proceeded to do whatever they saw fit to do.

Not that there was any lack of problems. A shame, too – since when Dallen next spoke to Montagne, it was with…not affection, but a tentative respect, or something approaching it. In that moment, it was as if she didn’t despise his guts. It was as if she were a pilot and he their mechanic. ”How’s it lookin’ back there Montagne? Everything good yeah?”

But there was no response. Or, if there was a response, it was too long delayed. Suspicion came over her. She prodded at some menus on the pilot monitors and inquired about the engine room’s situation remotely.

When the monitor was suddenly flooded with error codes and pings and warnings, her eyes widened and brows furrowed into incredulous fury. Ty, behind her and to the left, looked on with similar incredulity. It was a disaster area back there. A dozen vital circuits had been cut-off and disconnected before they could overload. The hydraulic pistons which kept the reactor stable in its’ mounting had been overstressed and nobody had been there to adjust them from the terminal. A number of hoses had snapped and nobody had been there to manually enter the command to redirect the flow to still operational routes. Life support was on the verge of total collapse due to programming failures. Carcinogenic microfiberous sealant had leaked into one of the air filters and it had been allowed to continue pumping out air.

Seeing all of this at once, Dallen mashed her finger down on the button and her furious shouting rang through the ship. ”You @#$%ing moron what the @#$% you been doing back there! Thought we could trust you to do one @#$%ing thing right and you didn’t even @#$%ing bother! The @#$% is wrong with you!” The litany of venom and hate would pour out of the speakers consistently for what seemed like hours. ”Do you have any @#$%ing idea what @#$%’s going on back there! @#$%ing useless, lazy, bigoted sonofabitch piece’a’@#$% @#$%sucker @#$hole!!”


Tsuan just frowned and did not look at Montagne or Rin - staring straight forward as if the teacher were admonishing the student next to him and he didn't want to be involved. Sands was looking up at the speaker as if there were a gigantic, but harmless spider sitting there, and it might drop on him at any moment. And Ty rather thought he should step in and tell her to be quiet - but looking at the expansive list of dangerous malfunctions that had been allowed to build up due to the cat's irresponsibility, he had to admit that she was absolutely in the right to be furious...

---

The Stella Viventium – Stella Public Transit Authority

Gaelan Yascra did what Gaelan Yascra always did – he scowled. Indignant that this petulant brat should continue to harbor the totally incorrect idea that the two of them were ’friends’ – the scowl mirrored Caru’s childish smile in exact proportion.

But as the diminutive ‘young man’ went prattling on, a slow narrowing of the eyes came over him as well. He crossed his arms, looking almost thoughtful at this strange new development. He was not stupid enough to think that he had any real grasp of the scope of the Captain’s operations. He was among a minute cabinet that even knew the Captain and his wife existed at all – let alone that their ultimate goal was to reach the unreachable star. A small, petulant part of him wanted to demand stupid, superficial things like how did you know the Captain’s name and how are you communicating with the others and what the actual @#$% are you talking about – but he said none of those things, recognizing them for what they were.

Instead, after a long, long moment of standing and considering the flamboyant fellow with a cocktail of disdain and curiosity, he gave a huff, crossed his arms, and allowed his eyes to take on a vaguely distant glaze, glancing slightly upward. Accessing the BrainPal™, focusing on the menus and screens and surreal ‘navigation’ of the network that was not a network with computers that were not computers. Being one of the Captain’s cabinet, he was privileged with a direct-access line to the busy man. Apparently this had seemed important enough to warrant the use.

And they must have exchanged some kind of communication, because after a moment, Yascra’s eyes focused on Caru again. But before he could speak, Drakis Volo came booking around the corner with the weird, apparently brain-dead girl in tow behind him.

-

She was definitely not ‘okay’. That was blatantly obvious now. There was something seriously wrong with this girl’s head, and he needed to accept that. Clearly there had been some kind of malfunction in the Re-Sleeving department. There had been a defect in the code that copied her stored consciousness from the Stella mainframe to the newly grown flesh-brain. This was, he realized, an issue that was far beyond his scope of experience, and the best he could hope to do for her was keep her from walking into a dematerialization field or falling down an elevator shaft, or getting splattered across the windows of a speeding railcar.

He liked the girl, strange as she was – but she was utterly delusional. She was totally unaware of the reality of her surroundings. She was, at present, perfectly unfit for society or social interaction of any kind, and independence was simply not an option. She hadn’t responded when he’d asked her if she was alright – but she couldn’t have given a clearer answer if she’d replied ’@#$% no’.

Frankly, Drakis did not know what to do. Hand her off to someone else? Send her…somewhere? Lock her up until she came to her senses? Send her to the psychiatric department? No, none of those options suited him. He considered each, but not seriously – because he already knew what he was ultimately going to do…He just wanted to fool himself into believing he was making the only rational decision, when in fact he was doing just the opposite.

He was just going to have to keep dragging her around with him.

With a heaving sigh, he removed his hand from the girl’s shoulder and turned for the huge, ominous door that was so ridiculously out of place and over the top that it was a caricature of itself. He reached for it again – but then froze as a BrainPal™ transmission that he had been waiting on for a long while finally came through. The familiar green text of the very man they were looking to free from his predicament. Drakis grabbed Rya Valheimer’s hand, and made off back down the gloomy corridor. The Old Doc could wait. He was probably busy anyway.

Even Yascra seemed impressed by the news that a message from the missing man had at last gotten through to someone. At once, the path was clear and revealed to all – and they were not slow in proceeding. It was time to at last bid a hasty farewell to the gloomy corridors of the DMV, and back into the brightly lit, coppery-gold halls and passages of the Stella proper. Back to a rarely-used railcar terminal, and into one of the standard, pod-like railcars with the plush interior and circular seating arrangement.

And, once again, the largest drawback of a starship the size of a city came into effect – it was some fifteen or twenty minutes before they arrived at one of the Scientific Department’s many terminals – curiously enough, greeted with the BrainPal™-only text informing them that the next stop on the line was currently out of order due to unknown causes.

The general color scheme of the Scientific Department – located in the heart and depths of the Civil Services District – was, as it was everywhere else, gold. Gold, and coppery-bronze, and gilded metal seemed to have been worn down over immeasurable periods of time. But there were also colors of bright, steely greys and silvers – whites and the occasional splashes of sharp red or blue. This was the hub of research and development for the whole of the Stella, after all, and it naturally needed to look the part. Now and then, men and women in stereotypical white lab coats would walk by, on some important science business about which none in the group bothered to inquire.

And presently, some twenty, or twenty five minutes after they had left the Public Transit Authority, the four stood before a locked door.

Even with his eyes totally invisible behind the lenses of his old-fashioned goggles, the air of deadpan incredulity over him was overwhelming. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

It was a door, yes. Just like almost all of the other doors on the gigantic vessel, it was the same color and texture as the surrounding walls, with only an indent at the seam to indicate its presence. There was no physical lettering to indicate where the door lead, because that information was superimposed upon the sight of anyone operating under a functioning BrainPal™. Yascra, Volo, and even Valheimer could see the words written over the door – though even if Caru could have seen them, they would have been all but meaningless. It was nothing more than a serial number and the words “Maintenance Terminal”.

But that was not what had the Stella’s Chief Engineer gaping in astonishment. Rather, it was the fact that someone had apparently bolted something to the seam where the two doors met, locking it shut. Anyone familiar with the ship would find this to be utterly impossible – because the unique metallic alloy that composed the body and walls was virtually indestructible. It should have been utterly impossible for any physical tool to make bolts penetrate it. It was why the ship had survived the countless eons – why the layout was the same as when it had supposedly taken off from the Sol system itself. You could heat up petrostanium, you could cook everyone in the ship alive if you tossed it into an active star. But you simply could not damage the metal. You could not scratch it, nor dent it. You could not mold it, nor break it. It was utterly inert and utterly indestructible.

And yet, somehow, against all possibility and laws of nature, someone had done just that.

It was a simple strip of metal – probably iron or steel – some four inches long, and with one bolt in either end, one in each door, and the plate locking them together. Simple, but effective – and, again, against everything – impossible.

After a long while of staring at this insanity before them, it was Yascra who came to his senses first and decided to step forward, and pluck the metal strip out of the holes the bolts had made. It slid out easily. He handed it to the Chief Engineer, who looked at it for a moment, before depositing it in his pocket.

The door opened to the image of a tall young man with coppery brown hair that was impeccable, despite how utterly exhausted he looked. His eyes were of a rich, dark green, skin on the paler side, and partially hidden behind the rims of a pair of archaic spectacles. He wore simple, dark slacks and a blue collared shirt, with a white lab coat – the difference being that the collar was turned up ridiculously in a stylish, but improbably starched manner.

And he looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes, dark and hollow. He leaned against one wall, hands in the pockets of the coat, looking like he had not slept in a few months. Nevertheless, upon registering that he had been rescued, the man straightened up, stretched his shoulders a little, and smiled – if weakly.

”Boy. Am I glad to see you guys.” He said, voice airy and light, though dragged down with a stress of weight that had surely been sitting on him quite some time.

”Rya, Caru, meet the Stella Viventium’s Chief Scientific Administrator Dorin Harkahn.” Drakis said, gesturing toward the man – then turning to him and more seriously asking in a lower voice ”What the @#$% happened, Doc?”

Harkahn just gave a sigh, and shook his head. ”A…A lot. I can’t even…Ugh.” He rubbed at his face with weary hands, then shoved them back in coat pockets, with a minute twinge more resolve than before. ”I need to speak with the Captain. Now.” He said. ”As it happens, we were just on our way to go see him ourselves. I guess this guy’s got some important @#$% to tell him too.” Yascra said, constituting the first words he’d spoken in some time. ”Oh and…good to see you’re not @#$%in’ dead, Doc.” He added – not smiling.

The railcar ride back to the secret Command District was an informative one, with everyone explaining the recent developments that had come about them, not bothering to censor themselves any more. Their guests could hear anything, it didn’t matter anymore.

Drakis’ friend was apparently a Martian who had been mysteriously cloned and dragged out of storage. Yascra’s “friend” was the Dimensional Lord of Love, Friendship and Compassion, and he had news of an ally to the cause that needed to be passed on. Dorin Harkahn had been stuck in a railcar for what seemed like months, but had been merely hours – unable to communicate via BrainPal™ but retaining all other Scientific Administration privileges. He had been on his way to…somewhere important, when the car stopped – and he had been just sitting there, monitoring data – and apparently someone had done it all intentionally.

Someone who was capable of penetrating an indestructible material.

The ship had been in Notspace – and now, it wasn’t – and the correlation between that transition and Harkahn’s sudden ability to once again communicate seemed like more than mere coincidence. Harkahn talked about things that seemed to be ancient history, though they had happened only hours before. There was a massacre on the surface of Isandril – Dendril, led by a mysterious blonde man who seemed to be out of sync with the universe. He had been spared, and returned to the Stella – had been on his way to the Drives in a desperate attempt at helping the Kingsbane escape the prompt death promised by an ancient Martian warship. There had been some kind of immense spike in the Stella Mainframe’s activity – a gigantic sum of data beamed up from the planet all at once – only to seemingly disappear into the databanks, beyond reach. Hidden folders.

Dorin Harkahn – this charming young scientist – seemed now as if he knew all the mysteries and secrets of the vast and complex universe – but only because the things of which he spoke were so grand and outlandish – yet true. He had been there. On the surface. He had seen that most ancient planet. He had seen the mysterious man – had seen the towers, seemingly indestructible, fall to ruin at his command.

That man. Harkahn was certain that so many of the mysteries could have been answered by that man – that he was, if not at the center, then very close to it. He was terribly important – utterly vital – yet he had the gut feeling that even the Dendril – and by extension their bigoted Lord Codsworth – did not know the true extent of his importance.

All the talking made the ride seem much quicker – but then, the Scientific Department was barely two or three miles away from Command – a fraction of a distance in comparison to the rest of that forty-mile behemoth.

The Command Center looked something like an office building. Actually, it was markedly anticlimactic. One would never expect that it was within these halls and chambers that the true masters of the Stella Viventium went about their machinations, while the governmental body in the district below faced the everyday challenges of civil infrastructure. Though there was still the gilded tint, there was carpeting here too – and eggshell-white paneling on the wall, and the occasional potted plant sprucing up an otherwise bare corner. Doors, upon doors, upon doors. Then, at last, a door that they entered.

Within was a small room with a vaulted ceiling. It was only large enough to house the long, wooden table and set of matching chairs lined up along it, and little else. It was a boardroom – simple, and hardly even elegant, but efficient. There were chairs enough for fourteen, or sixteen people – more than enough space for everyone to take their seats wherever they so chose.

And then, once everyone was seated, with only the eerie silence of the too-mundane room around them, they waited for the enigmatic Captain to appear…